Deadlocked: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel by Charlaine Harris Page B

than you.” If I kept repeating that, it would sink in.
    Good God—are “knowing” and “seeing” ever two different things!
    “You also know,” I continued, “that he loves you. And you love him.” When I don’t want to yank off one of these heels and stick it … “You love him,” I repeated sternly. “You’ve been through so much with him, and he’s proved over and over that he’ll go the extra mile for you.”
    He had. He had!
    I told myself that about twenty times.
    “So,” I said in a very reasonable voice, “Here’s a chance to rise above circumstances, to prove what you’re made of, and to help save both our lives. And that’s what I’ll do, because Gran raised me right. But when this is over …” I’ll rip his damn head off. “No, I won’t,” I admonished myself. “We’ll talk about it.”
    THEN I’ll rip his head off.
    “Maybe,” I said, and I could feel myself smiling.
    “Sookie,” Pam said from the other side of the door, “I can hear you talking to yourself. Are you ready to do this thing?”
    “I am,” I said sweetly. I stood, shook myself, and practiced a smilein the mirror. It was ghastly. I unlocked the door. I tried the smile out on Pam. Eric was standing right behind her, I guess thinking Pam would absorb the first blast if I came out shooting. “Is Felipe ready to talk?” I said.
    For the first time since I’d met her, Pam looked a little uneasy as she looked at me. “Uh, yes,” she said. “He is ready for our discussion.”
    “Great, let’s get going.” I maintained the smile.
    Eric eyed me cautiously but didn’t say anything. Good.
    “The king and his aide are out here,” Pam said. “The others have moved the party into the room across the hall.” Sure enough, I could hear squeals coming from behind the closed door.
    Felipe and the square-jawed vamp—the one I’d last seen drinking from a woman—were sitting together on the couch. Eric and I took the (stained) loveseat arranged at right angles to the couch, and Pam took an armchair. The large, low coffee table (freshly gouged) that normally held only a few objets d’art was cluttered with bottles of synthetic blood and glasses of mixed drinks, an ashtray, a cell phone, some crumpled napkins. Instead of its normally attractive and orderly formality, the living room looked more like it belonged in a low dive.
    I’d been conditioned for so many years that it was all I could do not to spring up, tie on an apron, and fetch a tray to clear away the clutter.
    “Sookie, I don’t believe you’ve met Horst Friedman,” Felipe said.
    I yanked my eyes away from the mess to look at the visiting vampire. Horst had narrow eyes, and he was tall and angular. His short hair was a light brown and closely cut. He did not look as if he knew how to smile. His lips were pink and his eyes pale blue; so his coloring was oddly dainty, while his features were anything but.
    “Pleased to meet you, Horst,” I said, making a huge effort topronounce his name clearly. Horst’s nod was barely perceptible. After all, I was a human.
    “Eric, I have come to your territory to discuss the disappearance of Victor, my regent,” Felipe said briskly. “He was last seen in this city, if you can call Shreveport a city. I suspect that you had something to do with his disappearance. He was never seen after he left for a private party at your club.”
    So much for any elaborate story Eric had thought of spinning for Felipe.
    “I admit nothing,” Eric said calmly.
    Felipe looked mildly surprised. “But you don’t deny the charge, either.”
    “If I did kill him, Your Majesty,” Eric said, as if he were admitting to swatting a mosquito, “there would be not a trace of evidence against me. I regret that several of Victor’s entourage also vanished when the regent did.”
    Not that Eric had given Victor and his cohorts any opportunity to surrender. The only one who’d been offered the chance to escape death was Victor’s new