Chapter 18

Eric was waiting outside in an idling SUV. Its windows were tinted so dark that I was shocked anyone, even a vampire, could see well enough through the glass to safely drive. Thalia took the passenger seat, and I hopped in the back, pulling my duffel bag in beside me.

"What happened?" I asked Eric.

"Don't have the details yet, but I feel her call."

He was in a terrible mood. I didn't even have to see his face in the dim light of the car to know this. He radiated it like a black cloud.

"And how is she… feeling?" I couldn't think of a more tactful way to put it.

"Frustrated, hungry, and extremely vengeful."

"Better than scared, I guess." I said it more for myself than anyone else. I'd spent time in jail when the Bon Temps sheriff's office had thought I'd been responsible for Arlene's murder. The entire time there I'd swung wildly from panic and fear through to mentally trying to solve the murder myself.

Once we hit the freeway, I phoned Mr. C's cell. It went straight to voicemail. He sent a text message through a few minutes later instructing me to find some suitable accommodation for him and myself in Shreveport for at least two nights. At Eric's suggestion, I booked two rooms at the Marriot as it had recently been refurbished. It was apparently one of the only hotels that would accept late night bookings. I briefly considered calling Jason to see if I could stay at the farmhouse instead, but it seemed like too much of an imposition to phone him at ten-thirty at night and ask to stay when they had a sleeping toddler at home. They were still packing to get ready to move back to his old place, so things were likely in disarray, anyway. I sent the accommodation details through to Mr. C via text message and laid down on the back seat. I managed to sleep. I'd hardly slept the night before and the movement of the car quickly lulled me.

I woke to a gentle shake on the arm. I opened my eyes to see Eric leaning over between the driver's and front passenger seat, his hand on my arm.

"Are we there?" I asked.

"I've stopped for gas. We're about an hour away. If you want to use the facilities or buy anything from the convenience store, now's your opportunity."

As my vision slowly adjusted, the dome light behind Eric's head appeared like a glowing halo.

"You look like an angel." Sleep loosened my tongue, and I spoke without really thinking.

"I assure you, only in looks."

He tucked some loose strands of my hair behind my ear. I caught his hand to stop him but somehow his hand molded against my cheek instead. Time slowed to a stop.

A sort of scoffing sound emanated from Thalia's direction. The passenger door slammed as she departed. Eric's hand left my cheek, and I was suddenly extremely aware of where I was and what was happening.

I used the restroom at the side of the gas station. The mirror above the sink was streaked and cracked, and the woman looking back at me had seen better days. I clasped the edge of the cold basin. I gave myself a long, stern look. Then splashed my face with cold water.

Once I'd seen to my needs, I went into the convenience store to buy a bottle of water. Eric placed a six pack of True Blood on the counter next to my bottle. From a stand on the counter, he picked up an air freshener in the shape of a gray alien and let it swing back and forth in front of me.

"What do you think, Skully?"

"I think there are enough supes in this world, I don't need to start worrying about aliens too," I replied. I placed a few bills on the counter for the clerk.

"This case does have all the markers for an X-file," he said thoughtfully. "Unexplained phenomena. A paranormal element."

"Do you think a department like that exists in the FBI?" I asked. We walked together back to the car.

"No."

"How would you know?"

"I glamoured Weiss and asked her."

"You did not!"

He grinned caddishly.

"They do have a department that deals with crime perpetrated by supes," he said, "but no shadow government conspiracies, unfortunately."

"That she knows of," I quipped.

I uncapped my bottle and took a swig. I'd been privy to the ways in which supernatural groups engaged in covert practices within their organizational structures. I wouldn't put it past the human government to do the same.

"Do you think this thing with Pam is related to the other killings?"

"Possibly. Likely," he said. The good humor evaporated from his tone. "I shall reserve judgement until I've met with my child."

We got back in the car and then headed out onto the highway. Soon we were speeding through the dark, past acre upon acre of flat farmland, heading north toward Shreveport.

"I was thinking," Eric said, "maybe we've been approaching this investigation the wrong way."

"Why do you say that?" I asked, leaning between the seats.

"We've been too focused on the clues. Our approach is too limiting, too straight forward."

"It's felt anything other than straight forward," I said, thinking over the efforts we went to in order to get into the Lachuza ritual in Dallas, thinking back even further to watching Thalia behead Lydia's vampire husband Floyd with her enormous sword.

"Depends on what you define as straight forward," he said.

"My investigative work for the firm is straight forward. A lot of freedom of information requests, some surveillance—"

"Listening in on human's thoughts," Eric interrupted.

"It's not like that," I said.

"So you don't extract the secrets from the minds of the opposition?"

"Not in the way you're thinking. It's not legal subterfuge. I use my discretion in what info I pass along."

"However you justify it, it sounds awfully gray to me."

"We're getting off track," I snapped.

"He has a point," said Thalia. I could've sworn I detected a faint waft of amusement in her tone.

"I've never claimed to be a moral saint," I said. My voice rose as I spoke.

"Yet always quick to point the finger at vampires for having no moral compass." Eric said.

"Life has no moral compass, Eric," I said. "And if I've learned anything from listening to humans, that when it suits them, they don't either. But I try my best. I work hard to be kind and make the world around me better if I can. So if I can use my ability within the firm to assist with balancing the scales, then I do so." I crossed my arms and muttered, "I can't believe I'm debating moral philosophy with two vampires," under my breath.

"Very well," he said. "Getting back to my original point, Thalia mentioned you seemed quite sold on the theory of the perpetrator being an ancient creature."

"I wouldn't say sold, but I think we need to count it as a possibility."

"I admit, it has merit. More than anything else we've considered. But I think your idea for its motive is off."

"What do you think the motive of the killings could be, then?"

"Consider our run-in with the maenad. Look at what efforts she went to, and how angered she became all because she wanted a tribute in her name."

"And you think the killer has similar motives?" I felt a ghostly tingle run along the scar on my back; the scar from that little 'run-in' with the maenad those years ago.

"I think you're applying a human notion of accepted motives for murder onto a creature whose motives could range from the inexplicable to the trivial."

"The God Hermes turned the nymph Chelone into a tortoise because she stayed home the night of Zeus and Hera's wedding," Thalia said. "Dionysus ordered Orpheus be ripped to shreds for worshiping another god near a shrine dedicated to him."

"I don't know, guys," I said uncertainly. I got what they were saying, but I couldn't climb aboard that theory the way they were. I stared out the window to the moon-lit patchwork landscape of farm fields. I thought of the night of the ritual after Veronica had gleefully confessed, and the thing that not-Veronica had said to me:

'Isn't that sweet? A vampire looking out for little old mortal you? It's not love. It's unnatural.'

•───── ─────•

The Shreveport police department was a large utilitarian building made of red brick and, despite the late hour, the lights were still on and the parking lot still lit. Mr. C emerged from the double glass entrance doors and met us in the lot.

"There's a bail hearing set for first dark tomorrow," he said after formally greeting both Thalia and Eric. "She is understandably unhappy, but comfortable with her accommodations for the following day. She is expecting your arrival, Mr. Northman."

Eric nodded tersely and followed Thalia into the station with the six pack of True Blood tucked under his arm.

"What happened tonight?" I asked Mr. C.

"Ms. Ravenscroft's suitor was very nearly drained this evening by a woman she claims is Ms. Ravenscroft."

"But it wasn't Pam?"

"No."

"Where was Pam at the time?"

"She was arriving at the young lady's residence just as the attack occurred. Ms. Ravenscroft fought the attacker off and the attacker fled."

"Then how was Pam arrested?"

"According to Ms. Ravenscroft, the victim, Chloe, was barely conscious and didn't understand what had occurred other than the fact she'd been attacked. Chloe's neighbor, who works in law enforcement, heard screaming and arrived in time to arrest Ms. Ravenscroft."

I let out a shaky breath.

"Yes, Sookie, it is rather inexplicable." There was that damn word again. Inexplicable. I was getting mighty sick of inexplicable.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Get some sleep. I need you to go to the hospital first thing in the morning to see if Chloe will speak with you."

"In an investigative capacity?"

"I know I don't need to understate the delicate nature of this situation, Sookie."

"I understand," I said soberly. Integrity of testimonial evidence. I'd gone over this aspect of law carefully before I was able to start investigating for the firm.

We couldn't be seen to be intimidating a witness or trying to get her to change her mind. Particularly in a case where a vampire was accused of wrongdoing – a lot of effort would occur on prosecutor's behalf in making sure no one had been glamoured. Testimonial integrity would be a big focus if this went to trial.

"Excellent," he said with a pleased smile. "Don't talk to her about anything that occurred earlier tonight with Pam. I don't want it to be seen as a breach of conduct on our part… But you may wish to check on her well being, and then perhaps reveal your personal connection to Pamela and any other information you may feel pertinent."

He flipped open the top of his leather case and handed me a manila envelope thick with files. I peeked inside.

"You mean the nature of my investigations these past weeks?"

"Yes, if you think it wise. I'll leave it in your capable hands to make that call." It's a given that you won't wear your necklace, he thought. I nodded. That wouldn't be a problem. I'd left it on my nightstand back in New Orleans.

By the time I checked us both into the Marriot and I got into my hotel room, it was four a.m. I showered and set my alarm for nine. I lay staring out the window, the curtains partially opened. I could only see a small patch of sky from above the neighboring building, and it was a murky gray-black thanks to the low cloud cover.

Funny how I could be so close to home yet still feel so out of place.

My phone chimed and I checked it. A message from Eric: Thalia can feel your worry. Pam is well. Mr. C is confident this will be resolved.

Yes, it would, but only in one of two ways. Either I somehow carefully convinced Pam's girlfriend that Pam didn't do it, and convince her in a way that couldn't be construed as ethical misconduct… or this went to trial. And I'd heard of several vampire cases when it came to near-drainings. The judge rarely sided with the vampire. So, it came down to me.

With pressure mounting on my shoulders, I forced myself to close my eyes and tried to sleep.

•───── ─────•

One fitful sleep, two lousy coffees, and a unimpressive breakfast pastry later, I was making my way through the halls of Willis-Knighton hospital with a large bouquet of flowers in my hand. I hated hospitals. The suffering and stress pressed in on me in a way that was suffocating, and it took nearly all my strength to hold the tidal wave of thoughts at bay.

I tried to shake away my morbid musings as I left the elevator on the third floor and made my way to Chloe van Buren's room. I got past the nurse's station by convincing them I was Chloe's friend.

They directed me to room 8 and on my way down the corridor, I paused and regarded the flowers. On second thoughts, I left the flowers in the room before Chloe's. I didn't want the flowers to be misconstrued as an apology or an attempt to curry favor. The elderly man who I gave the flower to was quite happy to receive them, at least.

I paused outside Chloe's door and lowered my shields a fraction to check her mental state before entering. She was asleep. Not surprising, really. I remembered how I much I'd slept in the days after Bill had attacked me in the trunk of that car.

I knocked softly and opened the door. Chloe stirred in bed.

"Hello," I said.

"Aloha," she croaked. Chloe was not at all what I was expecting. She was a nymph of a girl, with wavy pastel blue hair chopped at her shoulders and a short, bluntly cut fringe. A smattering of freckles covered the dainty features of her face that were juxtaposed by a tiny gold ring piercing tucked under her nose like a bull's ring.

"Chloe?"

"That's me," she said. "Now you don't look like you're here to check my obs. And I've already had my breakfast this morning. So that must mean you're here to wipe my ass."

A soft laugh burst from me in surprise.

"Actually, I'm here for neither reason. I heard about what happened last night."

Her smile faltered, and her petite form deflated back into her bed. "Who are you?"

"Sookie Stackhouse."

"I've heard about you."

"I'm not going to ask whether what you've heard is good or bad," I said. I sat on the seat beside her bed.

"Because you can take the answer directly from my skull?"

"I'm not listening right now." I smiled in what I hoped would be seen as friendly and non-threatening.

"You can turn your brain power off?" she asked.

"I can't turn it off, but I can wind the volume down all the way down. I wouldn't want people knowing what goes on in my head, so I feel like I ought to extend the same respect to others when I can."

"Fine," she said. She turned her gaze toward the window, where the misty morning light issued. The gray skies of the previous night had culminated in a steady drizzle. "Did she send you here?"

"No," I said. "I haven't seen her or spoken to her."

Chloe didn't respond.

"Look, I'm not going to ask you about what happened last night either," I said. I struggled for the right words. "Just know that I know what a violation it is, and I respect that it's your story to tell." The words felt scrambled as they left my mouth.

"Right. Then why are you here?"

"I wanted to check you were okay and tell you a little bit about what I've been doing for the last few weeks."

Chloe turned her head from the window's vista to look at me once more. "Okay. What have you been doing?"

The folder Mr. C had given me the night was before was jutting out of my purse, and from it, I withdrew a photo of Lydia Ryker. It was attached by a paper clip to a news clipping reporting on her murder. I handed it Chloe.

"I've been assisting in the investigation of Lydia Ryker's murder."

"That daughter of that werewolf president?"

"Uh-huh. Have you been following it in the news?"

"Not really, no. I meant it's been all over the news. Pam mentioned it a little. Said it was causing a headache for her maker."

"Lydia was found drained in her apartment. There's forensic evidence, backed up by were trackers, proving that her husband did it. But I'm sure you already know that. That was reported in the papers. What you might not know is that he claimed he was innocent. And footage on a security camera of him nowhere near his wife at the time of the murder."

"Okay…"

The next news clipping I removed from the file was that of Rosa Pieldeloba's murder in the Dallas Observer.

"This woman, a were fox, died recently in Dallas. A stabbing. Her partner was a witch who holds a lot of clout in her area. There is substantial evidence linking her to the crime, in fact, police have her in custody right now. Yet multiple witnesses, including police officers, place her on the other side of Dallas at the time of the murder. There are other murders too. Partner-on-partner violence in cross-species relationships. All with similar confounding circumstances. The FBI have a file." That was stretch, I knew. It was more like a rookie FBI agent had a file.

"What exactly are you telling me?"

I collected the clippings and returned them to the folder.

"I'm telling you that I believe someone is somehow physically impersonating people in an incredibly realistic fashion in order to frame them for the murder of their loved ones."

"Impersonating? You mean like a shape shifter?"

"Yes. Like how shifter can embody to shape of any animal. We think this individual or individuals can embody the shape of humans, weres, witches, vampires."

"You think Pam didn't…?"

"I can't answer that. I wasn't there last night. It's not my place to comment. But I thought the information I had was something you ought to know." I opened my purse again and took out a small paper bag from the pharmacy and placed it on her overbed table. "I got you some iron supplements and vitamin B tablets."

"This really has happened to you before, huh?" Chloe asked. Her hand crept up to her neck where a thick white bandage covered most of the area exposed above her hospital gown.

"Yes, and recovery can be a bitch," I said. I stood and collected my things. "Can I get you anything before I go?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks for the…" She gestured to the table where the bottles sat.

"I hope you feel better soon."

"Sookie," she called as I made my way out. I turned from the doorway. "The person who violated you—was it, was it Pam's maker?"

"No." I shook my head.

"I wanted to check it wasn't something that ran in the family." She smiled faintly.

"He would never do that. It's not in his nature."

"It's not in a vampire's nature to drain a human?"

"Sometimes it's easier to think of the person and not the vampire. Eric wouldn't do that, especially not to someone he cared about. From my experience, neither would Pam." I lowered my shields then, partly because the effort to hold them so firmly in place was draining, but also to get a sense of how Chloe was feeling.

"I really liked her, you know," she said. She was confused about what to believe, but mostly bone tired.

"Pam's a friend of mine. I like her too."

"I think she cares for me." She was replaying last night's events over in her head.

"How did you meet?" I asked out of curiosity.

"She commissioned some art from me. She's seen some of my work in this gallery I was showing in and contacted me. We met and I didn't really think much of it, honestly. She seemed so straight-laced. I mean, those pastel twin sets!" Chloe and I shared a smile.

"Her style is something else," I said.

"We met a few times to discuss exactly what she was after; she wanted to show me the space she intended to hang the paintings. And I became kind of obsessed with winding her up."

"What do you mean?"

"When someone is so tightly wound, it doesn't take much to make them lose their mind. I told her I planned on using glitter paint for the pieces she commissioned. You should've seen her face. I'd put my glass down beside the coaster, refuse to sit down for longer than a few seconds, trail off without finishing sentences when we talked. Just little stuff that would make her eye twitch. Then one day she grabbed me by the shoulders, and for a second I thought she was going to bite me. But you know what she said to me?"

"What?"

"She said if someone mixed chaos with cotton candy, it would look just like me. And then she kissed me." Chloe rapidly blinked away the tears that filled her eyes. "I just don't know what to believe anymore. If she attacked, was it all a lie? Was her love for me a lie? How do I know she didn't just glamour me into making me doubt what actually happened?"

"I can tell when someone's been glamoured," I said. "With my ability."

"Have I been?" Chloe asked, her round eyes mournful and doe-like.

"I can't detect a trace of glamour in you. Not one."