Charlaine Harris - Dead in the Family

Of all the ideas I had, calling the Renard Parish’s sheriff’s office was the one that got almost zero brain time. There was no way I could tell them why I was worried. The Weres were out, and there was nothing illegal about letting them hunt on my land. But I couldn’t picture myself telling Sheriff Dearborn that a Were had told me fairies had been crossing my property.

Here’s the thing. As far as I’d known until this moment, all the fairies except my cousin Claude had been barred from the human world. At least, all the fairies in America. I’d never wondered about those in other countries, and now I closed my eyes and winced at my own stupidity. My great-grandfather Niall had closed all the portals between the fae world and ours. At least, that was what he’d told me he was going to do. And I’d assumed they were all gone, except for Claude, who’d lived among humans as long as I’d known him. So how come there’d been a fairy tromping through my woods?

And who could I ask for advice on the situation? I couldn’t just sit on my hands and do nothing. My great-grandfather had been looking for the self-loathing half-human renegade Dermot until the moment he closed the portal. I needed to face the possibility that Dermot, who was simply insane, had been left in the human world. However it had come about, I had to believe that fae proximity to my house couldn’t be a good thing. I needed to talk to someone about this.

I might confide in Eric, since he was my lover, or in Sam, because he was my friend, or even in Bill, because his land shared a boundary with mine and he would also be concerned. Or I could talk to Claude, see if he’d give me any insight into the situation. I sat at the table with my coffee and my hunk of applesauce bread, too distracted to read or turn on the radio to catch the news. I finished one cup of coffee and started another. I showered, in an automatic sort of way, and made my bed and did all my usual morning tasks.

Finally, I sat down at the computer I’d brought home from my cousin Hadley’s New Orleans apartment, and I checked my e-mail. I’m not methodical about doing this. I know very few people who might send me e-mail, and I simply haven’t gotten into the habit of looking at my computer every day.

I had several messages. I didn’t recognize the return address on the first one. I moved the mouse to click on it.

A knock at the back door made me jump like a frog.

I pushed back my chair. After a second’s hesitation, I got the shotgun from the closet in the front room. Then I went to the back door and peeked through the new peephole. “Speak of the devil,” I muttered.

This day was just full of surprises, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock.

I put down the shotgun and opened the door. “Claude,” I said. “Come in. You want a drink? I’ve got Coke and coffee and orange juice.”

I noticed that Claude had the strap of a big tote bag slung over his shoulder. From its solid appearance, the bag was jammed with clothes. I didn’t remember inviting him to a slumber party.

He came in, looking serious and somehow unhappy. Claude had been in the house before, but not often, and he looked around at my kitchen. The kitchen happened to be new because the old kitchen had burned down, so I had shiny appliances and everything still looked squared away and level.

“Sookie, I can’t stay in our house by myself any longer. Can I bunk with you for a while, Cousin?”

I tried to pick my jaw up off the floor before he noticed how shocked I was—first, that Claude had confessed he needed help; second, that he confessed it to me; and third, that Claude would stay in the same house with me when he normally thought of me as about on the same level as a beetle. I’m a human and I’m a woman, so I’ve got two strikes against me as far as Claude’s concerned. Plus, of course, there was the whole issue of Claudine dying in my defense.

“Claude,” I said, trying to sound only sympathetic, “have a seat. What’s wrong?” I glanced at the shotgun, unaccountably glad it was within reach.

Claude gave it only a casual glance. After a moment, he put down his bag and simply stood there, as if he couldn’t figure out what to do next.

It seemed surreal to be in my kitchen alone with my fairy cousin. Though he had apparently made the choice to continue living among humans, he was far from warm and fuzzy about them. Claude, albeit physically beautiful, was an indiscriminate jerk, as far as I’d observed. But he’d gotten his ears surgically altered to look human, so he wouldn’t have to expend his energy perpetuating a human appearance. And as far as I knew, Claude’s sexual connections had always been with human males.

“You’re still living in the house you shared with your sisters?” It was a prosaic three-bedroom ranch in Monroe.

“Yes.”

Okay. I was looking for a little expansion on the theme here. “The bars aren’t keeping you occupied?” Between owning and operating two strip clubs—Hooligans and a new place he’d just taken over—and performing at Hooligans at least once a week, I’d imagined Claude to be both busy and well-to-do. Since he was handsome to the nth degree, he made a lot of money in tips, and the occasional modeling job boosted his income. Claude could make even the most staid grandmother drool. Being in the same room with someone so gorgeous gave women a contact high. until he opened his mouth. Plus, he no longer had to share the club income with his sister.

“I’m busy. And I don’t lack for money. But without the company of my own kind. I feel I’m starving.”

“Are you serious ?” I said without thinking, and then I could have kicked myself. But Claude needing me (or anyone, for that matter) seemed so unlikely. His request to stay with me was wholly unexpected and unwelcome.

But my gran chided me mentally. I was looking at a member of my family, one of the few still living and/or accessible to me. My relationship with my great-grandfather Niall had ended when he’d retreated into Faery and pulled the door shut behind him. Though Jason and I had mended our fences, my brother very much led his own life. My mom, my dad, and my grandmother were dead, my aunt Linda and my cousin Hadley were dead, and I rarely saw Hadley’s little son.

I had depressed the hell out of myself in the space of a minute.

“Do I have enough fairy in me to be any help to you?” That was all I could think of to say.

“Yes,” he said very simply. “I already feel better.” This seemed a weird echo of my conversation with Bill. Claude halfway smiled. If Claude looked incredible when he was unhappy, he looked divine when he smiled. “Since you’ve been in the company of fairies, it’s accentuated your streak of fairy essence. By the way, I have a letter for you.”

“Who from?”

“Niall.”

“How’s that possible? I understood the fae world was shut off now.”

“He has his ways,” Claude said evasively. “He’s the only prince now, and very powerful.”

He has his ways. “Humph,” I said. “Okay, let’s see it.”

Claude pulled an envelope out of his overnight bag. It was buff-colored and sealed with a blue blob of wax. In the wax was imprinted a bird, its wings spread in flight.

“So there’s a fairy mailbox,” I said. “And you can send and receive letters?”

“This letter, anyway.”

Fae were very good at evasion. I huffed out a breath of exasperation.

I got a knife and slid it under the seal. The paper I extracted from the envelope had a very curious texture.

“Dearest great-granddaughter,” it began. “There are things I didn’t get to say to you and many things I didn’t get to do for you before my plans collapsed in the war.”

Okay.