The Sookie Stackhouse Companion (9 page)

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Authors: Charlaine Harris

BOOK: The Sookie Stackhouse Companion
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The newly arrived Weres, both the Suburban wolves and the Biker Babes—I didn’t make that up; that’s what their jackets said—reinforced our picket around the church. A couple of trucks drove by, but if the men in them had pictured themselves stopping, they changed their minds when they saw the assortment of people waiting.
I introduced myself to a Biker Babe named Brenda Sue, who told me she was a trauma nurse at a hospital about fifty miles away. This was her afternoon off. I told her about the four o’clock wedding, and she looked as if she was working something out in her head. “We’ll be here,” she said.
At the moment, I thought that Trish, when she’d posted that call to arms on the twoey website, had done us a good deed. And maybe Jim Collins had actually given us a present by killing those poor animals. He might as well have shot a flaming arrow into the sky.
I heard the traditional music a couple more times, and I could hear the voice of an older woman giving some quick instructions. The rehearsal was over much more quickly than I’d anticipated. I didn’t know if that was because Brother Arrowsmith was hurrying it up or if forty-five minutes was normal for the rehearsal for a small family ceremony.
The wedding party came out of the church. They were obviously shocked to see the increased number of watchmen in the yard. Sam and Bernie grinned, and though the regular humans held back a little, all the two-natured had a great meet-and-greet. After some conversation all the way around, Jared Lisle shook my hand and got in a car with his brother and his sisters. No one wanted to linger in this exposed space. Trish and Togo had volunteered to feed the out-of-town visitors an impromptu lunch out at Trish’s ranch, and they led the little procession south out of town. Sam’s mom and Craig got into their car to go home, leaving Sam and me in front of the church.
“You and I are going to the police department,” he said briefly, and I scrambled up into the truck. Sam was silent on the short drive—everything in Wright was a short drive—and by the time we parked in front of the small brick structure labeled LOS COLMILLOS POLICE DEPT, I understood that Sam was angry, stressed, and feeling responsible for a certain amount of this persecution.
“I’m sorry,” he said to me abruptly.
“What?”
“I’m sorry I bring you here and this all happens. You have enough on your plate without having this added to it. I know you wish you’d stayed home in Bon Temps.”
“What I was wishing was that I were more use,” I said, trying to smile. “Maybe you should have brought Jannalynn, was what I was thinking.”
“She would have broken each of Jim Collins’s fingers and laughed while she did it.”
Oh. Well, in that case. “But at least she would have accomplished something,” I said ruefully. What had I done that morning? Did
not killing the neighbor
count as a positive?
We were out of the truck and walking into the police department as we had this exchange. After we passed through the scarred door, it seemed like a good time to stop talking about finger breaking.
“Sam,” said the middle-aged man behind the desk. “When did you get back?”
He had thin lips and a square jaw that came to a point, and a pair of eyebrows that were straight and bushy. He was smiling, but he was not happy. I wasn’t sure what the cause of his unhappiness was. I suspected it was us.
“Hey, Porter. We got in yesterday. This is my girl friend, Sookie.”
“If you’re going out with Sam, you’ve got a high bullshit tolerance,” Porter said. He was trying to smile, but it wasn’t reaching his eyes.
“I put up with him somehow,” I said.
“I guess you aren’t here just to say hi?” The name on his tag read “Carpenter.” Was his name Porter Carpenter? Almost as challenging as Sister Mendoza.
“I wish,” Sam said, and I realized that his speech had slowed down a bit and his body had relaxed. He even looked a little younger. He was
home
. Funny I hadn’t noticed that until now. “I’m afraid we had some trouble this morning.”
“I been out to the animal shelter,” Porter said. “Your problem related to that?”
I let Sam tell Officer Carpenter all about it, and he did a quick job of it.
“So you think this was at least partly Jim Collins’s doing?” Carpenter asked. “Jim wasn’t too bad until the vampires came out, but that tipped him over the line because that was about when Della died.”
Della had been Jim’s wife. I filled that in from Sam’s brain.
“Then the weres . . . Well, it just made him nuts. Especially when Don shot your mom. He and Don were big buddies.”
“So it was okay for his big buddy to shoot his own wife?” Sam asked bitterly.
“Sam, I’m just saying.” Porter shrugged.
“I didn’t see any evidence Jim Collins put the sign on Sam’s mom’s lawn or that he killed the dogs at the animal shelter,” I said, trying to get the conversation back on track. “At least, none that you could take to court. Maybe you found something?”
Carpenter shook his head. I knew he hadn’t looked. I was getting a whole lot from his head that scared me.
Sam said, “The dogs are dead, and nothing’s gonna change that. I’d like whoever did that to go to jail. But right now, I’m more worried that someone’s going to disrupt the wedding.”
“Do you think they’d do that?” Porter Carpenter asked, genuinely taken aback. “Ruin your brother’s wedding day?” He answered his own question. “Yes, I reckon there are a few people who would.” He thought for a moment. “Don’t worry about it, Sam. I’ll be there in my uniform, right outside the church. I’ll have another deputy with me, too. We’d have traffic duty anyway. Where’s the reception going to be? Church hall?”
Sam nodded.
Good. Close and quick to get to, not much exposure,
I thought.
Though Sam and Porter talked a little more, there wasn’t much else the cop was willing to do until the anti-two-natured took a more drastic step. He was only being as helpful as he was because he’d known Sam and his mom and dad a long time. If it hadn’t been for that bond, he would have given us a much cooler reception. A deputy came in while Sam and Carpenter were talking, and he regarded us with the same reserve.
When we left the police station, I thought Sam was more worried than when he’d gone in. The cops who were on our side were already at the Merlotte home, and they weren’t in uniform.
We arrived at Bernie’s house to see at least ten cars parked up and down the street and in the driveway. I was filled with dismay, thinking these were people who were showing up to give the family some more grief; but then I saw that the new arrivals were positioning themselves all around the little lot. They were facing outward. They were there to protect the Merlotte family.
Unexpectedly, tears welled up in my eyes. I groped for Sam’s hand, felt it grip mine. “Hey, Leonard,” Sam said to the nearest man, a gray-haired guy wearing a khaki shirt and khaki pants.
“Sam,” Leonard said, bobbing his head.
Sister nodded at us. “We’ll get this done,” she assured Sam. “Day’s half over. Bring Sookie to the next class reunion, you hear?”
Though I knew Sam had a real girlfriend and I was only standing in for the weekend, I had a giddy little tingle of warmth at the welcome I’d received from his family and friends. I had to stop in amazement when we went in the front door. The little house was a beehive of activity inside as well as out.
There were some bouquets of carnations on the occasional tables in the living room. One had balloons attached, which made the atmosphere weirdly cheerful. While we’d been gone, not only had the florist van stopped by, but someone had delivered a platter of cold cuts and cheese, and bread. Sliced tomatoes and everything else that might conceivably go on a sandwich were set out beside the platter, along with some “wedding” paper plates. Sam and I helped ourselves, as everyone else had done. Mindy’s children were running around in high excitement.
The house felt very small, very full of life, and all the brains were buzzing with excitement and happiness.
While Sam and I ate in the living room, sitting side by side on the couch, Mason brought me a glass of sweet tea, carrying it very carefully. “Here, Aunt Sookie,” he said proudly, and though I opened my mouth to correct the title, I just said, “Thank you, darlin’.” Mason grinned, looked instantly bashful, and dashed away.
Sam put his arm around me and kissed me on the cheek.
I took a sip of the tea because I didn’t know what else to do. I thought Sam was getting a little
too
into his role-playing.
“After all, you are my girlfriend this weekend,” he said close to my ear, and I stifled a laugh because it tickled.
“Uh-huh,” I said, infusing the words with a little hint of warning.
He didn’t remove his arm until he needed it to pick up his sandwich, and I shook my head at him . . . but I was smiling. I couldn’t help it. I was so uplifted at the community rallying around the Merlottes and the Lisles. I hadn’t felt this hopeful in . . . forever.
That lasted about five more minutes. The brains outside grew jangled with agitation. It began about the same time that I noticed an increased number of vehicles passing in front of the house. Given the general turmoil, I didn’t think much of it. However, I glimpsed movement out the front window, and I half stood to look through Bernie’s sheers. There were four cars parked across the street and at least twenty newcomers standing around, blocking the cars of the volunteers, and the family cars, too.
Sister was yelling, poking her finger at the chest of a man three times as big around as she was. He was yelling back. And finally, he shoved her and she went sprawling.
Sam had jumped to his feet to look out the window. When he saw his friend fall, he yelled and shot out of the house, Doke and Craig following him. Bernie zipped through the living room soon after, pelting out the front door like the strong woman she was.
There was lots of shouting, lots of commotion, and I wondered if I should join them, if I could be of any help. Then I thought twice. There was something contrived about the whole incident. Why would a confrontation be staged in front of the house?
So something could happen at the back.
Mindy and her children were standing in the hall, and I understood that Mindy didn’t want the kids to see any violence through the front or back windows. I nodded at her, held my finger over my lips, and eased into the kitchen. The small wooden bat the men had been using to lob balls to Mason the day before was by the back door, and I picked it up and hefted it. I was glad it was wood and not plastic. I looked out the window cautiously. Yes, someone was creeping through the backyard. A teenage boy, lean and lanky and angry. He had something in his hand.
My heart was pounding a mile a minute, and I had to make myself calm down so I could read his thoughts. He had some kind of a bomb, and he was planning on opening the back door and tossing it in and running like hell. I had no idea what kind of device it was. It might be a stink bomb or a smoke bomb . . . or a firebomb.
I felt a movement behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Mindy creeping into the room. She’d made the kids lie down on the hall floor, and had come in to provide backup. I felt an unexpected surge of emotion. My resolve got a shot of adrenaline.
So here’s where I may have overreacted.
When the teenager opened the back door, so very cautiously, and stuck his hand in, I shoved the door all the way open, took a half step, and swung the bat as hard as I could.
CHAPTER THREE
 
I
broke his arm. And here’s the thing: Though what he was holding turned out to be a stink bomb, not something that would actually physically harm Sam’s family, I never did feel bad about it afterward. In fact, in a savage kind of way I was glad I’d broken a bone.
This was the new me. Though I could regret I’d changed, it was a done deal. I couldn’t regenerate the tenderhearted me. I didn’t know how much of this alteration in my character was due to the blood bond I shared with a big, unscrupulous Viking and how much of it was due to the torture I’d undergone . . . but I wasn’t exactly the same nice person, as this boy had just found out.
He screamed in pain, and people came running from all over, both his buddies and the Merlotte family and their friends, and then the police, both in and out of uniform, and it was all chaos for a good forty minutes.
Since Mindy had been standing there while the boy came in the back door—and when he was blubbering in pain, he himself admitted it—I was in the clear.
In fact, his hastily summoned parents were absolutely horrified, didn’t try to dodge the facts or excuse his actions. They were stand-up people, which was a huge relief, because the boy was Nathan Arrowsmith, the only child of the Reverend and Mrs. Bart Arrowsmith. Talk about your touchy situation.
What did Sam’s family do? Sam’s family had a prayer meeting.
My gran had been a religious woman, and I liked to think of myself as a striving Christian. (Lately, I’d been more striving than Christian.) But we’d never had a family prayer circle. So I felt a little self-conscious about standing in the living room holding hands with Doke and Sam while all of us bowed our heads and prayed out loud, one by one.

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