"Did you get an invitation for the Fangtasia Halloween party this year?" he asked.
"No. After the last party they invited me to, they might not want me to come back," I said. "Besides, with all the recent losses, I don't know if Eric'll feel like celebrating."
"You think we ought to have a Halloween party at Merlotte's?" he asked.
"Maybe not with candy and stuff like that," I said, thinking hard. "Maybe a goodie bag for each customer, with dry roasted peanuts? Or a bowl of orange popcorn on each table? And some decorations?"
Sam looked in the direction of the bar as if he could see through the walls. "That sounds good. Make a thing of it." Ordinarily we only decorated for Christmas, and that only after Thanksgiving, at Sam's insistence.
I waved good night and left the bar, leaving Sam to check that everything was locked tight.
The night had a cold bite to it. This would be one of the Halloweens that really felt like the Halloweens I'd seen in children's books.
In the center of the parking lot, his face turned up to the sliver of moon, his eyes closed, stood my great-grandfather. His pale hair hung down his back like a thick curtain. His myriad of fine creases were invisible in the moonlight, or else he'd divested himself of them. He was carrying his cane, and once again he was wearing a suit, a black suit. There was a heavy ring on his right hand, the hand gripping the cane.
He was the most beautiful being I'd ever seen.
He didn't look remotely like a human grandfather. Human grandfathers wore gimme caps from the John Deere place and overalls. They took you fishing. They let you ride on their tractors. They groused at you for being too pampered and then they bought you candy. As for human great-grandfathers, most of us hardly got to know ours.
I became aware of Sam standing by my side.
"Who is that?" he breathed.
"That's my, ah, my great-granddad," I said. He was right there in front of me. I had to explain.
"Oh," he said, his voice was full of amazement.
"I just found out," I said apologetically.
Niall stopped soaking up the moonlight and his eyes opened. "My great-granddaughter," he said, as if my presence in the Merlotte's parking lot was a pleasant surprise. "Who is your friend?"
"Niall, this is Sam Merlotte, who owns this bar," I said.
Sam extended his hand cautiously, and after a good look at it, Niall touched it with his own. I could feel Sam give a slight jerk, as if my great-grandfather had had a buzzer in his hand.
"Great-granddaughter," Niall said, "I hear you were in danger in the fracas between the werewolves."
"Yes, but Sam was with me, and then Claudine came," I said, feeling oddly defensive. "I didn't know there was going to be a fracas, as you put it, when I went. I was trying to be a peacemaker. We were ambushed."
"Yes, that's what Claudine reported," he said. "I understand the bitch is dead?"
By which he meant Priscilla. "Yes, sir," I said. "The bitch is dead."
"And then you were in danger again one night later?"
I was beginning to feel definitely guilty of something. "Well, that's not actually my norm," I said. "It just happened that the vampires of Louisiana got overrun by the vampires of Nevada."
Niall seemed only mildly interested. "But you went as far as dialing the number I left you."
"Ah, yes, sir, I was pretty scared. But then Eric knocked the phone out of my hand because he thought if you came into the equation, there'd be an out-and-out war. As it turned out, I guess that was for the best, because he surrendered to Victor Madden." I was still a little angry about it, though, even after Eric's gift of the replacement phone.
"Ahhh."
I couldn't make head nor tail of that noncommittal sound. This might be the downside of having a great-grandfather on site. I'd been called on the carpet. It was a feeling I hadn't had since I was a young teen and Gran had found out I'd skipped taking out the trash and folding the laundry. I didn't like the feeling now any more than I'd liked it then.
"I love your courage," Niall said unexpectedly. "But you are very frail—mortal, breakable, and short-lived. I don't want to lose you just when I finally became able to speak to you."
"I don't know what to say," I muttered.
"You don't want me to stop you from doing anything. You won't change. How can I protect you?"
"I don't think you can, not a hundred percent."
"Then what use am I to you?"
"You don't have to be of use to me," I said, surprised. He didn't seem to have the emotional set I had. I didn't know how to explain it to him. "It's enough for me—it's wonderful—just knowing you exist. That you care about me. That I have living family, no matter how distant and different. And you don't think I'm weird or crazy or embarrassing."
"Embarrassing?" He looked puzzled. "You're far more interesting than most humans."
"Thank you for not thinking I'm defective," I said.
"Other humans think you'redefective?" Niall sounded genuinely outraged.
"They can't be comfortable sometimes," Sam said unexpectedly. "Knowing she can read their minds."
"But you, shapeshifter?"
"I think she's great," Sam said. And I could tell he was absolutely sincere.
My back straightened. I felt a flush of pride. In the emotional warmth of the moment, I almost told my great-grandfather about the big problem I'd uncovered today, to prove I could share. But I had a pretty good feeling that his solution to the Sandra Pelt-Tanya Grissom Axis of Evil would be to cause their deaths in a macabre way. My sort-of cousin Claudine might be trying to become an angel, a being I associated with Christianity, but Niall Brigant was definitely from another ethos entirely. I suspected his outlook was, "I'll take your eye ahead of time, just in case you want mine." Well, maybe not that preemptive, but close.
"There is nothing I can do for you?" He sounded almost plaintive.
"I'd really like it if you'd just come spend some time with me at the house, when you have some to spare. I'd like to cook you supper. If you want to do that?" It made me feel shy, offering him something I wasn't sure he'd value.
He looked at me with glowing eyes. I could not read his face, and though his body was shaped like a human body, he was not. He was a complete puzzle to me. Maybe he was exasperated or bored or repulsed by my suggestion.
Finally Niall said, "Yes. I'll do that. I'll tell you ahead of time, of course. In the meantime, if you need anything of me, call the number. Don't let anyone dissuade you if you think I can be of help. I will have words with Eric. He's been useful to me in the past, but he can't second-guess me with you."
"Has he known I was your kin for very long?" I held my breath, waiting for the answer.
Niall had turned to go. Now he turned back a little, so I saw his face in profile. "No," he said. "I had to know him better, first. I told him only before he brought you to meet me. He wouldn't help me until I told him why I wanted you."
And then he was gone. It was like he'd walked through a door we couldn't see, and for all I knew, that was exactly what he'd done.
"Okay," Sam said after a long moment. "Okay, that was really . . . different."
"Are you all right with all this?" I waved a hand toward the spot where Niall had been standing. Probably. Unless what we'd seen had been some astral projection or something.