“No problem,” I said. “I’m glad my softball training came in handy.”
Sam went to the doorway. “I’m down there, in my old room,” he said, jerking his head toward a door on the other side of the hall and down a bit. “Craig’s in there with me. Mom’s at the end of the hall.”
I started to ask him why he’d told me, but then I realized I did indeed feel better knowing where he’d be in the night.
“You going to call Eric?” he said, almost inaudibly.
“I may try,” I said. “He’d probably appreciate it.”
“Tell him . . . Nah, don’t tell him anything.” Sam was not a big fan of the Northman. “I was going to say, ‘Tell him thanks for letting you come,’ but you can go where you damn well want to.”
I smiled at Sam. “Yes, I can, and I’m glad you know that.” Over his shoulder, I saw the door at the end of the hall open just a crack, and I could see Bernie’s eyes peering at us. Sam gave me a little grin, and I knew he could tell we were being observed. I winked at Sam with the eye away from Bernie, and I kissed him. It wasn’t long, but it was warm. There was a look in Sam’s eyes when we let go of each other, a look that let me know he might’ve enjoyed putting on a much longer show for his mom, but I laughed and stepped back.
“Night,” I said, and shut the door. I heard Sam’s steps move away, and I fished my cell phone out of my purse. “Hey, you,” I said quietly when Eric answered. Bernie would surely have the sharp shifter hearing.
“Are you well?” he asked. I could hear some noise in the background. It didn’t sound like the familiar bar noises.
“I’m fine,” I said. “There seems to be a lot of hostility here in this town against Sam and his mom, and I’m a little bit worried about that. Maybe the hater is just their cranky old neighbor, but I got a feeling there’s more to worry about.” This was what I hadn’t discussed with Sam, so I was glad to pour it out to Eric.
“That’s worrisome,” he said, but he didn’t sound too worried. “Can you handle it, or do you need help? What’s the name of the town?”
“I’m in Wright, Texas,” I said, and I may have said it a little sharply. After all, you expect your boyfriend to listen when you tell him stuff, and I knew I’d told him about the wedding. “It’s west and a little south of Dallas.”
“How far?”
I described the route we’d taken to Wright, and Eric said, “That would still be in Joseph Velasquez’s territory. When Stan became king, he gave Joseph the sheriffdom.”
“Your point?”
“I’d have to ask Joseph for permission to send someone to help you.”
“Well, I appreciate the thought.” Though I noticed that Eric hadn’t actually said he’d do it. “But the wedding will be tomorrow afternoon in the daytime, so I don’t think a vampire would be a big help.”
“If you’re really worried, you could call Alcide,” Eric said reluctantly. “Maybe he knows the leader of the nearest pack down there, and it’s possible the packleader would be willing to come to make sure things go well. Though surely Sam and his mother know the other two-natured in the area.”
I didn’t know how seriously to take one man’s malice, but I did know from the shadow of his thoughts that there were more people in the town who believed the way he did. Maybe sending out a request for help would be a good idea. On the other hand, that was hardly my call to make.
“What’s going on with you?” I asked, trying to sound completely focused. Eric had his own political problems, and the representative of the Bureau of Vampire Affairs was breathing down his neck about a violation of one of the rules for operating a vampire-owned business. A barmaid had promised a female customer that she (the barmaid, Cyndee) could bribe one of Eric’s vamps to bite the woman. Cyndee’d been blowing smoke, but the BVA had to investigate the allegation. Plus, there was a tense situation with Eric’s boss, Victor Madden.
“I think the BVA investigation is going to exonerate us,” he said, “but Victor was here today with his own accountant, going through my books. This is well-nigh intolerable. I can fire Cyndee, and I have. I understand that’s all I can do to her.”
“Don’t worry about things down here, then,” I said. “You’ve got your hands full.”
We talked a little longer, but Eric was preoccupied, and so was I. It wasn’t a very satisfactory conversation.
I’d unfolded the couch to find it was already made up, and I discovered a folded bedspread and a pillow lying on the sewing machine. The evening was warm and the windows open, so I didn’t exactly need the bedspread, but the pillow was nice and fluffy. I turned off the overhead light and stretched out on the lumpy mattress. As I adjusted my spine, I wondered if there was any foldout couch in the world that was as comfortable as a bed. I reminded myself to be glad I wasn’t sleeping on the floor.
I could hear a muffled conversation coming from the room Sam was sharing with Craig. The brothers laughed. Their voices died away gradually. Through the open window, I heard a small animal outside, and the hoot of an owl. The breeze coming in didn’t even smell like the wind at home.
I considered the possibility of calling Alcide Herveaux, the Were pack-leader in Shreveport. He was the werewolf I knew the best, and he might have some insight for me about the situation in neighboring Texas. But not only was I harboring a great resentment toward Alcide since he’d pressured me into taking hallucinogenic drugs so I could solve a pack dispute; I knew he was feeling resultant guilt himself. People who felt guilty lashed out, in my experience. It would be just my luck if he sent Jannalynn to provide backup.
Awkward.
Geez Louise, I’d be on the chopping block in no time flat. I wondered what kind of conversation Sam had had with her before we’d left. (“Yes, I’m going to my brother’s wedding, but I’m taking Sookie because she’s more presentable.” I thought not.) And truly, it was another thing that was none of my business.
Then I fell to wondering if there were any other two-natured in Wright or its environs. If there were, maybe Sam could ask them to help when—if—trouble arose. The two-natured didn’t always stick together. Of course, neither did any other minority group I’d ever heard of.... The owl hooted again.
I woke the next morning to the welcome smell of coffee and pancakes with a side of bacon. Oh, yeah. I could hear a couple of voices in the kitchen, and the water was running in the bathroom. The household was up early. This was the day of the rehearsal and the wedding. I smiled up at the ceiling in anticipation. My room looked over the front yard, and I got up and padded over to the window to see what kind of day it was.
It was a bad day.
I pulled on shorts and a T–shirt, and hurried out into the kitchen. Sam and his mother looked up as I appeared in the doorway. They’d been smiling, and Sam was raising his coffee cup to his lips while Bernie was flipping the bacon in the frying pan. Sam put down his cup hastily and jumped to his feet.
“What?” he said.
“Go look in the front yard,” I said, and stood aside while they hurried from the kitchen.
Someone had stuck a big sign in the yard, facing the house. The message was definitely for Bernie. DOGS BELONG IN THE POUND, it said. I’d already jumped to a conclusion about its meaning.
“Where is it?” I asked Sam. “The pound? I hope I’m wrong, but I have to check.”
“If you go back to the highway, head south,” he said. There was a ring of white around his mouth. “It’s on Hall Road, to the right. I’m coming.”
“No. Give me your keys. This is your brother’s wedding day. You have to take care of your mother.”
“It’s not safe.”
“Whatever’s happened there, if anything has . . . it’s already done.”
He handed me his keys without another word. I hurried out to the truck, noticing along the way that not a soul was outside in any of the yards, though Saturday mornings are good for washing cars, yard work, garage sales, shooting hoops. Maybe Bernie’s neighbors had already seen that trouble was brewing and wanted no part of it.