Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [798]
“It’s very much your business.”
“Then tell me. I’m not up to guessing.”
“Isaiah caught a Fellowship spy in his entourage a month ago.”
I stopped dead, and Clovache did, too. I processed her words. “That’s really bad,” I said, knowing the words were inadequate.
“Bad for the spy, of course. But she gave up some information before she went to the vale of shadows.”
“Wow, that’s a pretty way to put it.”
“It’s a load of crap. She died, and it wasn’t pretty. Isaiah is an old-fashioned guy. Modern on the surface, a traditional vampire underneath. He had a wonderful time with the poor bitch before she gave it up.”
“You think you can trust what she said?”
“Good point. I’d confess to anything if I thought it would spare me some of the things his cronies did to her.”
I wasn’t sure that was true. Clovache was made of pretty stern stuff.
“But I think she told him the truth. Her story was, a splinter group in the Fellowship got wind of this summit and decided it would be a golden opportunity to come out in the open with their fight against the vampires. Not simply protests and sermons against the vamps, but out-and-out warfare. This isn’t the main body of the Fellowship . . . the leaders are always careful to say, ‘Oh, gosh, no, we don’t condone violence against anyone. We’re only cautioning people to be aware that if they consort with vampires, they’re consorting with the devil.’ ”
“You know a lot about things in this world,” I said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I do a lot of research before we take a job.”
I wanted to ask her what her world was like, how she got from one to the other, how much she charged, if all the warriors on (in?) her world were women or could the guys kick butt, too; and if so, what they looked like in the wonderful pants. But this wasn’t the time or the place.
“So, what’s the bottom line on this?” I asked.
“I think maybe the Fellowship is trying to mount some major offensive here.”
“The bomb in the soda can?”
“Actually, that baffles me. But it was outside Louisiana’s room, and the Fellowship has to know by now that their operative didn’t succeed, if it was their work.”
“And there are also the three murdered vampires in the Arkansas suite,” I pointed out.
“Like I say, baffled,” Clovache said.
“Would they have killed Jennifer Cater and the others?”
“Certainly, if they had a chance. But to tip their hand in such a small way when according to the spy they have planned something really big—that seems very unlikely. Also, how could a human get into the suite and kill three vampires?”
“So, what was the result of the Dr Pepper bomb?” I asked, trying hard to figure out the thinking behind it. We’d resumed walking, and now we were right outside the ceremonies room. I could hear the orchestra.
“Well, it gave you a few new white hairs,” Clovache said, smiling.
“I can’t think that was the goal,” I said. “I’m not that egocentric.”
Clovache had made up her mind. “You’re right,” she said, “because the Fellowship wouldn’t have planted it. They wouldn’t want to draw attention to their larger plan with the little bomb.”
“So it was there for some other purpose.”
“And what was that purpose?”
“The end result of the bomb, if it had gone off, would have been that the queen got a big scare,” I said slowly.
Clovache looked startled. “Not killed?”
“She wasn’t even in the room.”
“It should have gone off earlier than it did,” Clovache said.
“How do you know that?”
“Security guy. Donati. That’s what the police told him. Donati sees us as fellow professionals.” Clovache grinned. “He likes women in armor.”
“Hey, who doesn’t?” I grinned back.
“And it was a weak bomb, if any bomb can be called weak. I’m not saying there wouldn’t have been damage. There would have. Maybe even someone killed, like you could have been. But the episode seems to be ineffective and ill-planned.”
“Unless it was designed only to scare. Designed to be spotted. Designed to be disarmed.”
Clovache shrugged.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “If not the Fellowship, who? What does the Fellowship plan to do? Charge the lobby armed with sharpened baseball