I was as comfortable as I'd ever been in a vehicle. I had the rear-facing seat all to myself, while Bill and the lawyer sat opposite me. The limo was the last word in automotive luxury, at least in my eyes. Upholstered in leather and padded to the nth degree, the limo boasted lots of leg room, bottles of water and synthetic blood, and a little basket of snacks. Mr. Cataliades was real fond of Cheetos.
I closed my eyes and thought for a while. Bill's brain, naturally, was a null to me, and Mr. Cataliades's brain was very nearly so. His brain emitted a low-level buzz that was almost soothing, while the same emanation, from Diantha's brain, vibrated at a higher pitch. I'd been on the edge of a thought when I'd been talking with Sam, and I wanted to pursue it while I could still catch hold of its tail. Once I'd worked it through, I decided to share it.
"Mr. Cataliades," I said, and the big man opened his eyes. Bill was already looking at me. Something was going on in Bill's head, something weird. "You know that Wednesday, the night your girl was supposed to appear on my doorstep, I heard something in the woods."
The lawyer nodded. Bill nodded.
"So we assume that was the night she was killed."
Again with the double nods.
"But why? Whoever did it had to know that sooner or later you would contact me, or come to see me, to find out what had happened. Even if the killer didn't know the message Gladiola was bringing, they'd figure that she'd be missed sooner rather than later."
"That's reasonable," Mr. Cataliades said.
"But on Friday night, I was attacked in a parking lot in Shreveport."
I got my money's worth out of that statement, I can tell you. If I'd hooked both the men up to electroshock machines and given them a jolt, the reaction couldn't have been more dynamic.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Bill demanded. His eyes were glowing with anger, and his fangs were out.
"Why should I? We don't date any more. We don't see each other regularly."
"So this is your punishment for my dating someone else, keeping something so serious from me?"
Even in my wildest fantasies (which had included such scenes as Bill breaking up with Selah in Merlotte's, and his subsequent public confession to me that Selah had never measured up to my charms), I'd never envisioned such a reaction. Though it was very dark in the car's interior, I thought I saw Mr. Cataliades roll his eyes. Maybe he thought that was over the top, too.
"Bill, I never set out to punish you," I said. At least I didn't think I had. "We just don't share details of our lives any more. Actually, I was out on a date when the attack occurred. I believe I'm used to us not being part of the scenery."
"Who was your date?"
"Not that it's actually your business, but it is pertinent to the rest of the story. I'm dating Quinn." We'd had one date and planned another. That counted as "dating," right?
"Quinn the tiger," Bill said expressionlessly.
"Hats off to you, young lady!" Mr. Cataliades said. "You are courageous and discerning."
"I'm not really asking for approval," I said as neutrally as I could manage. "Or disapproval, for that matter." I waved my hand to show that topic was off the table. "Here's what I want you to know. The attackers were very young Weres."
"Weres," Mr. Cataliades said. As we sped through the darkness, I couldn't decipher his expression or his voice. "What kind of Weres?"
Good question. The lawyer was on the ball. "Bitten Weres," I said. "And I believe they were on drugs, as well." That gave them pause.
"What happened during the attack and afterward?" Bill said, breaking a long silence.
I described the attack and its aftermath.
"So Quinn took you to the Hair of the Dog," Bill said. "He thought that was an appropriate response?"
I could tell Bill was furious, but as usual, I didn't know why.
"It may have worked," Cataliades said. "Consider. Nothing else has happened to her, so apparently Quinn's threat took root."
I tried not to say "Huh?" but I guess Bill's vampire eyes could see it on my face.
"He challenged them," Bill said, sounding even colder than usual. "He told them you were under his protection, and that they harmed you at their peril. He accused them of being behind the attack, but at the same time reminded them that even if they didn't know of it, they were responsible for bringing the one who planned it to justice."
"I got all that on the spot," I said patiently. "And I think Quinn was warning them, not challenging them. Big difference. What I didn't get was… nothing should happen in the pack without Patrick Furnan's knowledge, right? Since he's the grand high poobah now. So why not go straight to Patrick? Why go to the local watering hole?"
"What a very interesting question," Cataliades said. "What would your answer be, Compton?"
"The one that springs to mind… Quinn might know there's a rebellion fomenting against Furnan already. He's added fuel to it by letting the rebels know that Furnan is trying to kill a friend of the pack."
We're not talking armies here. There might be thirty-five members of the pack, maybe a little more with servicemen from Barksdale Air Force Base added in. It would take only five people to make a rebellion.
"Why don't they just take him out?" I asked. I'm not politically minded, as I guess you can tell.
Mr. Cataliades was smiling at me. It was dark in the car, but I just knew it. "So direct, so classic," he said. "So American. Well, Miss Stackhouse, it's like this. The Weres can be savage, oh yes! But they do have rules. The penalty for killing the packleader, except by open challenge, is death."
"But who would, ah, enact that penalty, if the pack kept the killing secret?"
"Unless the pack is willing to kill the whole Furnan family, I think the Furnan family would be delighted to inform the Were hierarchy of Patrick's murder. Now maybe you know the Shreveport Weres better than most. Are there ruthless killers among them who wouldn't mind slaughtering Furnan's wife and children?"
I thought about Amanda, Alcide, and Maria-Star. "That's a whole different kettle offish. I see that."
"Now vampires, you'd find many more who were up for that kind of treachery," the lawyer said. "Don't you think so, Mr. Compton?"
There was a curious silence. "Vampires have to pay a price if they kill another vampire," Bill said stiffly.
"If they're affiliated with a clan," Mr. Cataliades said mildly.
"I didn't know vampires had clans," I said. Learning something new all the time, that was me.
"It's a fairly new concept. It's an attempt to regularize the vampire world so it looks more palatable to humans. If the American model catches on, the vampire world will resemble a huge multinational corporation more than a loosely ruled collection of vicious bloodsuckers."
"Lose some of the color and tradition, gain some of the profits," I murmured. "Like Wal-Mart versus Dad's Downtown Hardware." Mr. Cataliades laughed.
"You're right, Miss Stackhouse. Exactly. There are those in both camps, and the summit we'll attend in a few weeks will have this item high on the agenda."
"To get from what's going to take place weeks from now and get back to something a little more on topic, why would Patrick Furnan try to kill me? He doesn't like me, and he knows I'd stand with Alcide if I had to make a choice between 'em, but so what? I'm not important. Why would he plan all this—find the two boys who would do it, bite them, send them out to get me and Quinn—if there wasn't some big payoff?"
"You have a knack for asking good questions, Miss Stackhouse. I wish my answers were as good."