Chapter 17
"Watch out," Aubrey said, as I sidled past office reception Monday afternoon. "Someone you had a run in with is in the mediation room. You might want to avoid."
For a long blank moment, I thought she meant Eric. And then the witch Veronica. I gave myself a mental shake. Both options were equally preposterous. The sleep deprivation didn't help. I'd landed at NoLa International in the early hours and didn't get to bed until around 4am.
"Who?" I asked just as Audrey picked up a call on the reception phone. I shrugged and made my way through the bullpen, waving off the candy she offered me from her jar. I toyed with my hummingbird necklace, tempted to remove it as I passed by the mediation meeting room. I detoured past Jonathan's desk on my way to my own instead.
"Who's in there?" I asked the young associate, nodding toward the meeting room.
"Latour and some clients," he said, not looking up from his screen. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason." I went upstairs and got myself settled for the day. Hannah was already working away with a look on her face that suggested it was best I leave her alone, so I began my day by tackling my email inbox. I'd quickly learned that it was best to start my day going through every unread email and putting out any spot fires I could before tackling bigger jobs. Those spot fires had a tendency to spread if left ignored. (I guess it showed just how far I'd come since the arson at my old bar that I could make analogies about fire.)
"Ready for me to go over this pleading with you?" Hannah asked from her desk. I was in the middle of scheduling some upcoming meetings in my shared calendar with Mr. C.
"Sure, why not." I abandoned my task on my laptop and scooted my chair over to her. She got me to take over writing the court document. I was still very, very green when it came to drafting documents. To start with, legal writing was a damn near art form that seemed to me couldn't be taught and only learned through trial and error. Mostly error. Certain documents I could now comfortably draft with Mr. C's guidance, like general correspondence to opposing counsel and complaints, but most of the time I felt like an idiot. Hannah assured me this was normal for a first- and second-year paralegals. Sometimes I wondered if it would be easier to just transition into investigative work for the firm on a full time basis. And then I remembered what the last three days in Dallas had been like and popped that thought like a balloon.
Ms. Latour emerged from the elevator on our floor and made a beeline toward Hannah's desk. She was the only female partner in the firm and, while not as severe looking as Mr. Lucretius or as stately as Mr. C, she was formidable in her own right. Stout and small, I had rarely seen her dressed in anything other than a tailored power suit with her short greying blonde hair blow dried perfectly to frame her face. And she always, always, wore the same strand of pearls with a diamond clasp around her neck. One of the associates told me once that a mobster had given it to her in her early days as a lawyer when she'd successfully got him off a murder charge. It was apparently worth a mint. Who knew it if were true.
"Good afternoon, Miss Stackhouse."
"Good to see you, Ms. Latour."
"I thought you may want to know that I just concluded an interesting meeting with Walt Buhler and his wife," she said. I dragged my eyes up from the sparkling necklace.
"Really?" I said. "With the both of them?"
"It seems that his wife has had a change of heart."
"She's not pursuing divorce?"
"At this stage, it would appear not. Mr. Buhler is concerned that he may be investigated by the IRS and he and his wife are concerned with protecting their assets in the upcoming months. I wanted you to be aware that you may cross paths with him in the office on occasion."
"He held a gun to me," I said. She knew all about my run-in with Walt the other day, but I felt in this instance that fact warranted reminding.
"Will you approach the authorities about pressing charges?" she replied.
Her question surprised me.
"His security guard did assault you," she prompted. Her face revealed no reaction or opinion, and my impression was that she didn't care either way. She just wanted to know what she was working with when it came to Walt the philandering fraudster.
"It hadn't occurred to me," I said, which was God's honest truth. Was I really so used to throwing myself in the way of danger and dragging myself out of trouble that the idea of seeking judicial retribution hadn't even occurred to me? Because it really hadn't.
"You'd be perfectly within your rights to do so," she said.
I looked at Hannah, and she just shrugged. My chase through the city and subsequent car ride with Walt Buhler hadn't particularly traumatized me. It had just annoyed the heck out of me. In fact, the more I thought on it, the more I wanted to return the favor. Walt had been an ass. He'd dumped me in the warehouse district and left me to find my own way home on foot.
"He needs to cover the cost of replacing my cell phone," I said. "I expect a new iPhone 4. And my shoes got ruined that day thanks to him too, so those need to be replaced. He can also compensate me for the billable hours I missed logging while walking back across town. If he does that, I won't go to the police."
"Excellent." Ms. Latour flashed me one of her signature icy smiles. "What would be the replacement value of your footwear?"
"Two hundred and fifty," Hannah said cutting me off before I could speak.
"Noted," Ms. Latour said, not skipping a beat. The wedge heels I'd worn that day were only cheapies from Payless, and Hannah was very aware of my spendthrift habits when it came to fashion. But who was I to correct her?
"New iPhone. $250 for footwear, and let's say... payment equivalent to four billable hours. Anything else?" Ms. LaTour asked.
"I expect a handwritten note of apology from him," I said.
"Very well," she said. She lapsed into silence then, her fingers drumming against the edge of Hannah's desk. "I think, in regard to his dealings with our firm, as a show of good faith on his part, you also wish for Mr. Buhler to donate a meaningful sum to a local women's domestic violence shelter."
"Yes. Why, yes, I do." And now I was smiling also. The sum she then suggested was indeed meaningful.
"I can't believe that," Hannah muttered after Ms. Latour left.
"You think I should see about getting charges pressed against him?" I chewed my bottom lip.
"No. I can't believe that his wife is back by his side. She was desperate to leave before, but now that Old Walt's fortune is under threat, they're suddenly a united force?" Hannah's top lip curled, and she made a sound of disgust.
"Oh." I hadn't thought of that. "Maybe she only wanted the divorce if she got money out of it? Or, more likely, she'll divorce him once they have their assets squared away."
"I hope so," Hannah said, logging back onto her computer, "for the sake of women everywhere."
After I'd finished working with Hannah, I brought Mr. C in a pot of tea and selection of cakes and slices that he'd sent over from the local bakery. He didn't often phone in an order for so much cake, but when he did it was certainly a sign that he was stressed or couldn't cope with his current workload.
"Anything I can help you with in particular?" I asked him, after clearing some space on his desk to place down the tray.
His waved his hand dismissively. "Don't concern yourself. Things are busy, so no complaints from me. I just need an afternoon pick-me-up." As he spoke transferred a slice of strawberry gateau onto his plate and picked it up. He motioned for me to sit. "Would you like some tea and cake?"
I eyed off the slice of devil's food cake. I thought of how tight my skirt had felt zipping it up that day, and just how much I'd indulged in Dallas's fine fare all weekend. I hadn't eaten wisely.
"No, thank you," I said.
"Very well. I want to hear about your weekend."
I filled Mr. C in on my weekend's events, though leaving out my disagreements with Eric.
"The three of us just don't understand how she could first tell me she was innocent and then guilty when I was able to listen to her thoughts on both occasions and hear both statements as true," I said. "Not unless it's someone masquerading as her. In fact, I am positive someone was."
"You think this will be key to solving Lydia's murder?" He'd finished his gateau, then reached for the devil's food cake, before thinking better of it and taking a slice of hummingbird cake instead.
"I think it will be key to working out if and how Lydia's husband was in two places at once at the time of her murder. Maybe it's the same individual or maybe it's a group of them."
"Interesting. Taking on a human-like form is not a common ability for the supernatural."
"Amelia said the magic was incredibly difficult to forge and maintain for witches."
"Yes. And two-natured individuals do not possess this ability to take on human form."
"Right. President Ryker said the same thing. Eric mentioned maybe some ancient creatures…?"
"Devils can't, if that's what you're thinking," he said. It wasn't, but it was a relief to hear, nonetheless, particularly given our shared history with that variety of supernatural creature. "It could very well be something ancient. You know, Sookie, you have some ancient contacts that could help you."
"Well, Eric was clueless."
"More than just Mr. Northman." He took a bite of cake and watched me expectantly, waiting to for me to catch on. Contacting my grandfather in faerie was out of the question, so that just left…
"Thalia."
He smiled. "Goodness these cakes are delicious. Are you sure you don't want some?"
"Quite certain, thank you." I needn't have spoke because he was already helping himself to more.
I worked till nine o'clock that night. I didn't particularly want to, but my hours had taken a hit since doing all this extra work for Ryker. Given my hybrid work role, I thankfully didn't have the pressure that most paralegals had when it came to keeping up billable hours, but I'd heard enough chitchat around the watercooler to know that they were a priority for everyone. I also had my studies to factor into it all. I worked through my dinner break (and deeply regretted not saying yes to that devil's food cake). I did take five minutes to eat a Clif bar from the box I kept in the bottom drawer of my desk, and I phoned Thalia's cell, leaving a voicemail for her to call me when she could.
Right on 9 o'clock, Danny picked me up from outside work in his car with a bottle of wine and a large pizza that smelled promisingly of pepperoni and sausage. I could've wept.
"Nice to see you too," he said after I laid a lingering kiss on him, reveling in the pleasure of having someone's arms to greet me at the end of a long day.
"I'm so ready to sit on the couch and not think about anything to do with work for the rest of the night," I said and buckled up.
"One of those Mondays?" he said.
"Is it still only Monday? It feels like next week already."
We sat on the sofa and shared the wine and pizza while watching episodes of House Hunters I'd saved on the TiVo. It was delightfully domestic. No death. No murder. No crazy witches or stern werewolves or galling vampires. Just me and my beau spending some regular old crisis-free time together. Until a stern knock sounded at the door. I sighed. I got up checked the peephole. Was one night without interruption really too much to ask?
"You could've just called me back," I said when I opened the door. Thalia swept past me and into the living room.
"Who's this?" She lifted her nose and sniffed in Danny's direction.
"Thalia, this is Danny. Danny this is Thalia, she's—"
"The vampire Queen of Louisiana," he said. He had sat up straight on the couch and straightened his shirt. The rosy wine-induced tinge in his cheeks had rapidly paled. "Wow. I didn't realize you were on… such familiar terms with one another."
"Sookie is my friend," Thalia said. She made it sound like she was staking claim, like an explorer stabbing a flag into a Sookie-shaped hill.
"Friend," Danny repeated. He sounded as skeptical as I still felt about Thalia's casual use of the moniker.
"Uh, yeah," I said, my tone and smile a little too bright. "I knew Thalia back when she lived in Shreveport."
"Is this your date to the coronation?" she asked.
"Sure is," I said and put an arm across Thalia's shoulders to try and usher her to the kitchen and away from my terrified boyfriend. Instead, Thalia sat down on the armchair. She turned herself and the chair so that she faced Danny directly. The corners of her lips turned down in displeasure.
"Maybe I should go," Danny said, leaping to his feet. "I do have work in the morning. Big day."
"No, please stay," I said but I could see it was a lost cause. It was like the big bad wolf had decided to crash our date. I glared at Thalia.
"You are less than I expected," Thalia said to him.
"A pleasure to meet you," said Danny, not at all convincing. He brushed a quick kiss to my cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sookie."
"You hurt her, and I'll eviscerate you," Thalia said as Danny passed her. I could practically see the dust left behind as Danny tore out of my apartment.
"Was that necessary?" I said. I picked up the wine glasses and took them to the kitchen.
"Yes," she said, following me. "Men must know their place. What did you want to ask me?"
With a sigh, I dumped the wine down the sink and began washing the glasses. I explained to Thalia my conclusions given the events of the weekend in Dallas and asked if she knew of any ancient beings that could take on human form at will.
"Some of the old gods could assume human form," she said.
"Old gods." I tried to not let it shock me, I really did. I mean I knew devils existed. As in more than just one. But gods? As in multiple—causing mischief in in the modern world?
"Yes, those from Greek pantheon," she said. She frowned. "Have you asked why someone would go to these lengths?"
"To shapeshift?"
"And assume the form of someone's loved one to kill them."
"I think it's someone who has something against cross-species relationships. Trying to stir up political tension."
Why else target the President Alpha's daughter? Or the partner of a powerful witch in Dallas? Or even a vampire in New York's court? There were commonalities between all three. I had looked at the list that Agent Ray had provided us of cases he thought were related, and while they weren't involving such notable figures it certainly fit the bill. They were in relationships with people of a different species and at least one person in those relationships had links to noteworthy people or positions of power. They were all notable deaths for various groups of supernatural people, almost like these victims were specifically chosen to create tensions between the groups.
"Did you talk to the King of New York?" I set the glasses in the dish drainer to dry.
"King Sebastian had the murdered vampire's human mate executed."
"Wasn't his mate a human?"
"Apparently so." Thalia shrugged with disinterest.
"Was his partner even guilty? How could they just kill her like that!"
"Sebastian said likely not guilty. He glamoured her before delivering his judgement; she claimed innocence. There were witnesses to the murder, so his hand was forced."
"Yeah, right," I said bitterly. This was the world of vampires, I shouldn't be surprised. I remembered Eric saying the King of New York didn't approve of human-vampire relationships beyond that of pet and master. Knowing vampires like him, he'd relished in 'executing' her in whatever grisly way he saw fit.
"Could very well be a rare supernatural creature," she said, her usual steely expression relaxing in thought. "With an agenda."
"Exactly. But are there many? I don't even know where to begin when it comes to researching this stuff."
"You are in luck, breather. I have a library of rare books from antiquity. One in my collection, as I recall, details various supernatural creatures."
I forgot that I was mad at Thalia and went to hug her. She held me firmly at arm's length.
"Your hands are wet," she said. "And the book is in my residence in Shreveport."
"Oh…" That piece of knowledge deflated my excitement somewhat. "Could we arrange for it to be couriered here?"
"I don't permit anyone to touch my collection," Thalia said frostily. "But it just so happens we need to go Shreveport."
"We? What do you mean we need to go to Shreveport?"
"Go and pack your bags," she said to me. "One of my Sheriffs has been arrested and charged with attempted murder. I require your assistance."
"One of your Sheriffs?" And then it hit me. "Wait—do you mean Pam?"
"Go pack."
"Hang on, I've work tomorrow. I can't go anywhere."
Thalia looked at me as if I were truly stupid. "And which lawyer do you think is representing Pam?"
"Then why isn't Desmond telling me all this?"
"He's there already. He awaits your arrival."
"Fine. Give me a few minutes." I still hadn't unpacked from Dallas. I guess I'd just swap out the dirty clothes in my luggage with clean ones and I'd be ready. "Would've been nicer if you'd just asked," I grumbled under my breath as I stomped slowly up the stairs.
"No point asking when I already know you'll say yes," Thalia called. I stomped louder. Petty?
Not even ten minutes ago I'd been canoodling on the couch with my boyfriend, and now here I was being sent across the state at the whim of another supernatural creature. I hadn't even been home for twenty-four hours.
I then pictured Pam, pacing in a jail cell somewhere in Shreveport waiting for someone to make things right. Who had died? Was this related to what was going on? Was it someone she cared for? Worry abruptly drowned out everything else.
I hurried to my room to repack my bag.