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“You still got his sister’s car?” Frannie Quinn had loaned me her car so I could get home after the Rhodes disaster.

“No, it vanished one night when Amelia and I were both at work. I called and left a voice mail on his cell to say it had been taken, but I never heard back.”

“Sookie, I’m sorry,” Sam said. He knew that was inadequate, but what could he say?

“Yeah, me, too,” I said, trying not to sound too depressed. It was an effort to keep from retreading tired mental ground. I knew Quinn didn’t blame me in any way for his injuries. I’d seen him in the hospital in Rhodes before I’d left, and he’d been in the care of his sister, Fran, who didn’t seem to hate me at that point. No blame, no hate—why no communication?

It was like the ground had opened to swallow him up. I threw up my hands and tried to think of something else. Keeping busy was the best remedy when I was worried. We began to shift some of our things to Sam’s truck, parked about a block away. He carried most of the heavier stuff. Sam is not a big guy, but he’s really strong, as all shifters are.

By ten thirty we were almost finished. From the cheers at the front of the house, I knew that the brides had descended the staircase in their honeymoon clothes, thrown their bouquets, and departed. Portia and Glen were going to San Francisco, and Halleigh and Andy were going to Jamaica to some resort. I couldn’t help but know.

Sam told me I could leave. “I’ll get Dawson to help me unload at the bar,” he said. Since Dawson, who’d been standing in for Sam at Merlotte’s Bar tonight, was built like a boulder, I agreed that was a good plan.

When we divided the tips, I got about three hundred dollars. It had been a lucrative evening. I tucked the money in my pants pocket. It made a big roll, since it was mostly ones. I was glad we were in Bon Temps instead of a big city, or I’d worry that someone would hit me on the head before I got to my car.

“Well, night, Sam,” I said, and checked my pocket for my car keys. I hadn’t bothered with bringing a purse. As I went down the slope of the backyard to the sidewalk, I patted my hair self-consciously. I’d been able to stop the pink smock lady from putting it on top of my head, so she’d done it puffy and curly and sort of Farrah Fawcett. I felt silly.

There were cars going by, most of them wedding guests taking their departure. There was some regular Saturday night traffic. The line of vehicles parked against the curb stretched for a very long way down the street, so all traffic was moving slowly. I’d illegally parked with the driver’s side against the curb, not usually a big deal in our little town.

I bent to unlock my car door, and I heard a noise behind me. In a single movement, I palmed my keys and clenched my fist, wheeled, and hit as hard as I could. The keys gave my fist quite a core, and the man behind me staggered across the sidewalk to land on his butt on the slope of the lawn.

“I mean you no harm,” said Jonathan.

It isn’t easy to look dignified and nonthreatening when you have blood running from one corner of your mouth and you’re sitting on your ass, but the Asian vampire managed it.

“You surprised me,” I said, which was a gross understatement.

“I can see that,” he said, and got easily to his feet. He brought out a handkerchief and patted his mouth.

I wasn’t going to apologize. People who sneak up on me when I’m alone at night, well, they deserve what they get. But I reconsidered. Vampires move quietly. “I’m sorry I assumed the worst,” I said, which was sort of a compromise. “I should have identified you.”

“No, it would have been too late by then,” Jonathan said. “A woman alone must defend herself.”

“I appreciate your understanding,” I said carefully. I glanced behind him, tried not to register anything on my face. Since I hear so many startling things from people’s brains, I’m used to doing that. I looked directly at Jonathan. “Did you . . . Why were you here?”

“I’m passing through Louisiana, and I came to the wedding as a guest of Hamilton Tharp,” he said. “I’m staying in Area Five,