Amelia dashed in first, rain spots all over her blouse, and her boyfriend, Bob, was right on her heels. Bob particularly hated getting wet. I didn’t know if that was because he’d spent time as a cat, or if it was because he simply liked dryness. Diantha danced inside, her small bony figure outlined with tight clothes in bright colors. Mr. Cataliades, in his usual black suit, pounded up the steps after her, moving swiftly despite his bulk.
The last person into the house was Barry Bellboy, formerly known as Barry Horowitz.
Years younger than me, Barry was the first telepath I met. Mr. Cataliades was Barry’s great-great-grandfather, though I didn’t know if Barry had been made aware of that or not.
Like Amelia and me, Barry and I hadn’t parted on perfect terms. But we’d gone through a great ordeal together, and that made a bond between us that nothing could break, especially considering the fact that we shared the same disability. The last I’d heard, he’d been working for Stan, the King of Texas . . . though since Stan had been badly injured in the explosion in Rhodes, I had figured Barry’d really been working for Stan’s lieutenant, Joseph Velasquez, since then.
Since I’d last seen Barry at a hotel in Rhodes, he had aged and his body had matured. He’d completely lost his endearing gawkiness. Now he seemed more . . . intense and spidery. I handed him a towel to dry his face, which he did with vigor.
How are you? I asked him.
It’s a long story, he said. Later.
“Okay,” I said out loud. I turned away to greet my other guests. Amelia and I hugged rather awkwardly, inevitably reminded of our final quarrel the last time she’d been here, when she’d totally crossed the line into my personal life. Amelia had rounded out.
“Okay,” she began. “Listen, just getting this out of the way. I’ve said this before, but I want to say it again. I’m sorry. Being such a good witch gave me inflated ideas of running your life, and I’m aware I overshot my boundaries. I won’t do it again. I’ve been trying to mend my fences everywhere. I’ve been trying to create a relationship with my father, though he turned out to be nothing like I thought he was, and I’m learning some impulse control.”
I looked at her carefully, a little confused about the reading I was getting. Amelia had always been an exceptional broadcaster, and she still was. She was sending off waves of sincerity and fear that I’d reject her apology. (However, she still thought very highly of herself, with some justification.) But there was an extra vibe from her. “We’ll give starting over a shot,” I said, and we smiled at each other in a tentative way. “Bob, how you doing?” I turned to her companion. Bob was not a big man. If I had to pick two adjectives for Bob, they would be “dark” and “nerdy.” But I could see that Bob, like Barry, had changed. He was carrying more weight, which looked good. Gauntness had not become him. And Amelia had been smartening up his wardrobe, including his glasses, which now looked sort of European and sophisticated.
“Dang, Bob, you clean up good,” I told him, and his thin lips parted in a surprisingly charming smile.
“Thanks, Sookie, you’re looking good yourself.” He glanced down at his clothes. “Amelia thought I ought to update.”
I still couldn’t imagine how Bob had forgiven Amelia for turning him into a cat when she didn’t know how to turn him back, but after his initial spasm of loathing sent him running to find his remaining family when he’d been returned to human form, he’d come back to her.
“Dear Sookie,” said the nearly-all-demon Desmond Cataliades, and I embraced him. It was an effort, but that was what you did with friends. He didn’t feel human to the touch, though he looked human enough, with his circular body and scanty dark hair, his dark eyes and jowly face. But there was a certain rubbery feel to his flesh that was not standard. He inhaled deeply while his arms were around me, and I had to fight to keep myself from flinching. Of course, he knew that. He was very skilled at keeping it secret that he could read minds like I could—but he was the one who’d made me what I was, and Barry, too.
“HeySookie,” Diantha said. “Igottapee. Bathroom?”
“Of course, down the hall,” I said, and off she sped, her hair and clothes dark with rain.
I made sure everyone had a towel, and there was a lot of milling around as I assigned rooms: Bob and Amelia downstairs across from me, Mr. C and Diantha in Claude’s bedroom and sitting room upstairs, and Barry got the air mattress in the former attic/unfinished bedroom. My house was full of voices and activity. Feet went up and down the stairs, the bathroom door opened and shut repeatedly, and there was life around me. It felt good. Though Claude and Dermot had been less-than-stellar houseguests (especially the traitorous Claude), I’d missed the sound of them in the house, and most of all I’d missed Dermot’s smile and willingness to help. I hadn’t admitted that to myself until now.
“You could have put us upstairs, put the lawyer down here,” Amelia protested.
“Yeah, but you need to save all of your energy for the baby.”
“What?”
“The baby,” I said impatiently. “I thought you might not like to hike up and down those stairs several times a day, plus you need to be close to a bathroom at night. At least, that’s the way Tara was.”
When she didn’t reply, I turned away from the coffeepot to see that Amelia was staring at me very oddly. Bob, too.
“Are you telling me,” Amelia said very quietly, “that I’m pregnant?”
I’d stepped right in it and gotten stuck. “Yeah,” I said weakly. “I can feel the brain waves. You got a little one on board. I’ve never sensed a baby before. Maybe I was wrong? Barry?” He’d come in to hear the last part of our exchange.
“Sure. I thought you knew,” he told Bob, who looked pretty much as if someone had socked him in the stomach. “I mean . . .” He looked from Bob to Amelia. “I thought you both knew. You’re witches, right? I figured that was why we could sense the baby early. I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it yet. Not publicly. I was trying to be tactful.”
“Come on, Barry,” I said. “I think we need to give them the room.” I’d always wanted to say that. I took his hand and pulled him out to the living room, giving the parents-to-be the kitchen. I could hear the rumble of my godfather talking to his niece upstairs. For the moment, it was just me and Barry.
“What have you been doing?” I asked my fellow telepath. “Last time I saw you, you were pretty unhappy with me. But now you’re here.”
He looked unhappy and a little embarrassed. “I went back to Texas,” he said. “Stan was pretty slow recovering, so I was under Joseph Velasquez. Joseph was struggling to keep control, threatening everyone with what would happen when Stan was back at full strength. Like a mom threatening her kids that their dad’s going to come home and whip their butts. Finally, a vamp named Brady Burke sneaked into the recovery crypt—don’t ask—and staked Stan. Brady’s people came after Joseph, too, but Joseph beat them down and put Brady and his vamps out in the sun, and then killed Brady’s human buddies.”
“Joseph thought you should have warned him.”
Barry nodded. “Of course, and he was right. I knew something was up, but I didn’t know what. I was friends with a gal named Erica, one of Brady’s donors.”
“Friends with?”
“Okay, I was sleeping with Erica. So Joseph felt I should have known.”