Eric looked away. "I think not," he said reluctantly. "Sookie ... it's not just a straightforward decision, you over Freyda. If it were only one woman over another ... it's you I love. That's a given, not a choice at all. But it's not that simple."

"It's not that simple?" I repeated. I felt too many things to select one emotion, to say, That's the way I feel; I'm in dread. Or I'm angry. Or I'm numb with fear. I had all those feelings, and more. Since I couldn't bear to look at Eric's face any more than he could bear to look at mine, I looked up at the starlit sky. After another moment's silence, I said, "But it is, isn't it. That simple."

The night swelled with magic; not the beneficent kind of love-magic that sweeps couples away, but the kind of magic that rips and tears, the enchantment that creeps out of the woods and pounces.

"My maker gave this to me as his last order," Eric said.

"I would never have believed you'd try this argument," I said. "'I'm just obeying orders.' Come on! You can't hide behind Appius's wishes, Eric. He's gone."

"He signed a contract, and it's legally binding," Eric said, still keeping his composure.

"You're giving yourself an excuse for doing something painful and wrong," I said.

"I'm locked into it," he said, his expression savage.

I looked down at my feet for a minute. I was wearing my happy sandals again, high-heeled and with little flowers on the strap across my toes. They looked ridiculously frivolous, appropriate for a single woman's twenty-eighth birthday. They weren't kiss-your-lover-good-bye shoes.

"Eric, you're a strong vampire," I said. I took his cool hand. "You've always been the boldest, baddest guy around. If your maker were alive, I'd believe you couldn't help this. But I watched Appius die, right here in my yard. So here's my bottom line; here's what I really believe. I think you could get out of this if you hated Freyda. But you don't. She's beautiful. She's rich. She's powerful. She needs you to watch her back, and the reward will be lots of the stuff you love." I took a deep, shuddering breath. "All I got is me. And I guess that's not enough." I waited, praying to hear a rebuttal. I looked up at him. I saw no shame. I saw no weakness. I saw instead a laserlike intensity in his blue eyes, so like my own.

He said, "Sookie, if I turn down this opportunity, Felipe will punish both of us. Our lives will not be worth living."

"Then we'll leave," I said quietly. "We'll go somewhere else. You'll work for some other king or queen. I'll find a job."

But even as I spoke the words, I knew he would not opt for this. In fact, I found myself wondering if I would have said it if I'd believed there was any chance he'd say yes. On the whole, I thought I would, though it would have meant leaving everything I found dear.

"If only there were some way to prevent this," Eric said. "But I don't know of any way, and I can't tear you away from your life."

I didn't know whether my heart was ripped in two, whether I felt anguish or relief. I'd been sure he'd say that.

But he didn't say anything else.

He was waiting for me to speak.

The apprehension was so strong in me that I felt my eyebrows draw together in a question. "What?" I asked. "What?" I couldn't imagine where he wanted me to go in this terrible conversation.

Eric seemed almost angry, as if I weren't picking up my cue.

I continued to be bewildered; he continued to try to force some statement from me.

When he was sure I genuinely didn't have a clue, Eric said, "You could stop this if you chose." Each word came clear and distinct.

"How?" I dropped his hands, spread my own to show my ignorance. "Tell me how." I rummaged through my mind as fast as I could, trying frantically to understand what Eric could mean.

"You say you love me," he said angrily. "You could stop this."

He turned to walk away.

"Just tell me how," I asked, hearing and hating the desperation in my voice. "Goddammit, just TELL ME HOW."

He cast a look over his shoulder. I hadn't seen that expression on his face since we'd met, when he'd regarded me as just another disposable human.

And then he was in the air. And then he was lost in the night sky.

I stood staring up for a minute or two. Maybe I expected blazing letters to appear in the sky to explain his words. Maybe I thought Bill would pop out of the woods like a deus ex machina to tell me what Eric had been so sure I would understand.

I went back into the house and automatically locked the door behind me. I stood in the middle of the kitchen, cudgeling my tired brain into activity.

Okay, I said. Let's figure this out. Eric said I could stop him from leaving with Freyda. "But it can't be just that I love him, because I told him that, and he knows it," I whispered. "So, it's not how I feel, it's some act I need to perform."

What act? How could I prevent their marriage?

I could kill Freyda; however, not only would that be a horrible thing to do, since she'd done nothing more than desire the man I loved, but any attempt to kill the powerful vampire would be simply suicidal.

And killing Eric would hardly produce a happy ending, and that was the only other way I could imagine stopping him.

I guess I could go to Felipe and beg him to keep Eric, I thought. Though Eric had said Felipe would punish both of us if Eric remained in Louisiana, disobliging Freyda, I seriously considered how I would go about appealing to the king. What response would he have? He knew I'd saved his life once upon a time, but though he'd made me big promises, he hadn't exactly come through with them. No, Felipe would laugh when I went down on my knees. And then he'd tell me he thought he ought to honor Appius's wishes and let Appius's child make such an advantageous match.

In return, I was sure Felipe would be favored in any subsequent dealings between Oklahoma and Nevada or Arkansas or Louisiana.

All in all, I really couldn't see any chance at all that Felipe would agree to let Eric remain in Shreveport. Eric's worth as a sheriff couldn't equal the huge plus of having him at Freyda's side, murmuring things into Freyda's ear.

Okay, begging Felipe was out. I can't say I wasn't relieved.

I was still poking at my brain, trying to get it to spit out an idea, while I showered and put on my nightshirt. Eric had been so sure I could stop the Freyda-Felipe deal. How? It was like Eric thought I had a magic wish, something tucked up my sleeve.

Oh.

I froze, one arm through an armhole, the rest of the nightshirt bunched around my neck. I didn't breathe for a long moment.

Eric knew about the cluviel dor.

Chapter 15.

I sat up all night.

My brain ran through the same old paces like a chipmunk in a cage. I always ended with the same conclusion.

Eric was trying to get me to admit I had the cluviel dor. What would have happened if I'd understood him last night, if I'd admitted it? Would he have taken it from me? I didn't know if he simply sought it for himself, or if Freyda would barter the cluviel dor in return for Eric's services, or if Eric simply wanted me to use it to stop him from going to Oklahoma.

And here's what happens when you have too much time to think: I actually considered the idea that Eric might have engineered this whole episode with Freyda to get me to reveal the location of the cluviel dor. That was a sickening possibility. If I hadn't experienced past betrayals, such an idea would never have crossed my mind. Even though I had accepted the world as it was, it made me sad that I was sure such a long-term and planned deception was possible.

Every new thought seemed to be worse than the previous one.

I lay in the dark watching the clock change.

I tried to think of things I could do, something besides lie in this bed. I could run across the cemetery to talk to Bill, who was surely up. That was a terrible idea, and I discarded it the first ten times it occurred to me. The eleventh time, I actually got out of bed and walked to the back door before I made myself turn away. I knew if I went over to talk to Bill right now, something might happen that I would surely regret-and that wasn't fair to me or Eric. Not until I knew for sure.

(I really knew for sure.) I opened my purse and took the cluviel dor into my hand. Its warm, smooth surface relieved my pain, calmed me. I didn't know if I could trust this feeling or not, but it was far preferable to my previous misery. I heard Dermot come in and walk very quietly through the house. I couldn't bear the idea of explaining the situation, so I didn't let him know I was awake.

When he was safely upstairs, I moved into my dark living room and waited for the dawn. I fell asleep just as the night was lightening gradually into day. I slept sitting up on the couch until I woke four hours later, a cramp in my neck and stiffness in all my joints. I got up, feeling like I imagined an old woman felt first thing in the morning. I unlocked the front door and stepped out onto the porch. I heard birds singing, and the heat of the day was well advanced. Life was trudging onward.

Since I couldn't think what else to do, I went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. At least I didn't have to go to work today, since Merlotte's was closed on Sunday.

The night before, I had tossed our weekly local newspaper on the table unread, so while I sipped the coffee I took off the rubber band and spread it out. It was only a few pages, a little tube compared to the Shreveport daily paper, which I also read. Often the Bon Temps paper had news that was more interesting, though. That was the case today. Bear in Local Woods? read the headline. I skimmed the article hastily, and my heart sank, if there were any lower depths to hold it.

Two deer carcasses found by local men had led to some excited speculation. "Some large predator did this," said Terry Bellefleur, who happened upon one of the killing sites while training his dog. "It didn't exactly look like a bear or panther kill, but this deer was killed by something big."

Dammit. I'd warned Bellenos to stick to my woods.

"Oh, I didn't have quite enough to worry about," I said, rising to pour some more coffee. "I needed something else."

"What are you worried about?" Claude asked.

I screamed, and my coffee mug went flying.

When I could speak, I said, "You. Do. Not. Do. That. To. Me." He must have come in through the unlocked front door. He had keys, anyway, but I would have heard them in the lock and had some warning.

"Cousin, I'm sorry," he said contritely, but I could see the amusement in his eyes.

Oh, shit. Where had I put the cluviel dor?

I'd left it on the coffee table in the living room. It took every bit of self-control I had not to break and run for the living room.

"Claude," I said, "things haven't been going well while you were gone." I struggled to make my voice level. "Some of your fae workers have been taking little vacations." I pointed to the paper. "I guess Dermot spent the night at Hooligans. You should read this." If he hadn't come through the backyard, he might not have seen Dermot's car.

Claude poured himself a cup of coffee and obediently pulled out a chair.

His actions weren't threatening, but I was looking at the man who'd sent Kym Rowe to her death; for all I knew, he was the one who'd killed her when she hadn't gotten Eric to do the job. Claude's sudden reappearance-without Niall-would have been enough to raise the hair on my arms even if I hadn't known about his collusion with Jannalynn.

Why had Claude returned by himself? There was something in his face that hadn't been there before. I was willing him to sit down, willing him to give me the time to walk into the living room and retrieve the magical object.

"Where is Niall?" I asked, picking up my mug, which (amazingly) hadn't broken. After I put it by the sink, I got a wad of paper towels to mop up the spilled coffee.

"Still in Faery," Claude said, ostensibly concentrating on the paper. "Oh, did you like your friend's act at Hooligans? Your human friend?"

"JB. Well, his wife and I were sure surprised. Him being the only human, and her not knowing he was doing it and all."

"He needed a job, and I remembered the pretty lady who was with child," Claude said. "See, I did a good thing. I'm not so bad."

"I never said you were."

"You look at me, though, from time to time, as if you can't understand why I get to breathe the same air you do."

I was genuinely staggered. "Claude, I'm so sorry if I've ever given the impression I thought you were worthless. Certainly I don't feel that way." Or did I? No, I didn't. I thought he was selfish and charmless and maybe guilty of murder, but that was different.

"You don't want to have sex with me. If you had more fae blood, you certainly would want it."

"But I don't. You're gay. I'm in love with someone else. I don't believe in having sex with relatives. We've had this conversation before. I really, really don't want to have it again."

The feeling of wrongness and badness kept growing; especially after my experience with the rogue Weres, I knew better than to ignore it. I also knew Claude was stronger than I was, and I assumed he had skills I'd never seen.

"Okay," he said. "You're trying to let me know that my kith and kin are hunting at night? Is that the point of giving me this newspaper?"

"Yes, Claude. That's the point. Dermot's about been nuts, trying to keep them in line. Did Niall get the letter I sent?"

"I don't know," Claude said.

I was bewildered. "I thought you went back with Niall to investigate who'd cast the crazy spell on Dermot," I said. "He's been spending lots of nights at the club and trying real hard to keep things running." I was frightened for myself, of course, but I was frightened for Dermot, too. I hoped Dermot was awake by now; Claude wouldn't take my word for it that Dermot wasn't there. He'd go up to check.

"So what have you been doing in Faery? Did you ever find out who cast the spell?"

"Niall and I have had some disagreements," Claude said, his beautiful dark eyes flashing up to meet mine. "I'm sorry to say that Niall believes it was me who cursed Dermot."

I was left with no response, since I was by now pretty sure myself that Claude was the culprit. "I think that's awful," I said, with absolute sincerity. He could take it as he chose. "I'm gonna go open the shades in the living room. Have some more coffee. I think I've got some Toaster Strudels in the freezer if you're hungry." I walked down the hall to the living room, trying not to hurry, trying to make my footsteps regular and nonchalant. I even went directly to one of the front windows and raised the blind. "It's gonna be a pretty day," I called, turned, and in one gesture swept up the cluviel dor and put it in my nightshirt pocket. Dermot was halfway down the stairs.

He said, "Did I hear Claude's voice?" and made as if to hurry past me. Apparently, he hadn't even looked at what I'd picked up, which was a relief-but not at the top of my list of problems just at the moment.

"Yes, he's home," I said, in what I hoped was a natural voice, but I gripped Dermot's arm as he went by me. I looked at him with as much warning as I could pack into my eyes.

Dermot's blue eyes, so like Jason's, widened in shock. There was no gesture I could make that would clearly translate as "I think he wants to do something awful to us! He killed Kym Rowe for some reason I can't fathom, and I think he cursed you!" but at least Dermot understood that caution was called for.

"I told him you weren't here," I whispered. He nodded.

"Claude," he called. "Where have you been? Sookie didn't hear me come in last night, she says. The other fae are champing at the bit to hear your news." He started toward the kitchen.

But he met Claude coming into the living room. I didn't think Claude had witnessed our silent colloquy, but at this point I wouldn't put money on anything good. Yesterday had been my good day, apparently, even though it had ended as badly as I thought it could have. I'd been wrong! Claude could have returned last night. Yep, that would have been worse.

"Dermot," said Claude. His voice was so cold it stopped Dermot dead. I went on and opened the other blind.

"What's wrong? Why have you returned without Father?" Dermot said.

"Grandfather has issues he must deal with," Claude snarled. "In Faery."

"What did you do?" Dermot asked. He was brave. I was trying to unobtrusively creep into my room to retrieve my cell phone. I didn't know whom I would call; I didn't know who could deal with a fairy. "What did you do, Claude?"

"I thought that when I went back with him, I would find support for our program," Claude said.

Uh-oh. I didn't like the sound of that. I took two more steps to my left. Hooligans! I'd call the fae at Hooligans! Wait. Unless they were backing Claude in whatever the hell his program was. Shit. What should I do? Dermot wasn't armed. He was wearing sleep pants and no shirt.

My shotgun was in the closet by the front door. Maybe the closet should be my goal, instead of the cell phone. Did I have Hooligans on speed dial? How long would it take the police to get out here if I hit 911? Would Claude kill them?

"And you didn't?" Dermot said. "I'm not sure what program you mean, Claude?"