Dead Ever After Book Thirteen

Dead Ever After
Book Summary
Prologue

The prologue begins with Copely Carmichael and his chauffeur Tyrese meeting with a devil in New Orleans to make a deal. In short, Copely wants the Cluviel Dor so he can use it to bring his witch daughter closer to him so he can use her power. Somehow or other he heard Amelia (also known as the Voice of America) talk about the Cluviel Dor.

Then the devil meets with Rev. Steve Newlin in Baja and he complains about a girl who ruined his church and put his wife in prison.

The devil then meets with Copely and tell him the Cluviel Dor has been spent. Now Copely wants Sookie Stackhouse to have extremely bad luck.

After Sookie resurrected Sam, she finds him sitting in her yard. He tells her he has been feeling kind of weird so his mom has come out to help him out. He sort of remembers what it was like when he was dead and what it felt like to be resurrected and he says he notices stuff much clearer and points out the fact her yard is absolutely blooming like crazy.

Meanwhile, Arlene is being released from jail by Johan Glassport, the prostitute murdering lawyer who got Sophie Anne out of her legal problems. He says he wants Arlene to talk to Sookie Stackhouse.
The second day after Sookie saved Sam, she decides she has to go to see Eric and she is met by Pam who tells her that she is not welcome at Fangtasia and she should wait for Eric to contact her.

Tara comes over the next day and takes Sookie shopping. Sookie sort of tells about the show down at Alcide’s house and how Jannalynn betrayed Alcide and Sam and how Mustapha Khan executed ger and how she saved Sam’s life and Eric is mad and Sam has not spoken since. While Sookie is shopping, she runs into Roseanne, a rogue werewolf who joined Alcide’s pack. Roseanne thinks Sookie is some sort of super witch because she resurrected Sam.

Bill calls on Sookie that night, after she comes home from her shopping and he informs her Karin, Eric’s other child is in town. He tells her she has a reputation as a real killer, her nickname is the Slaughterer. He also tells her the area five vampires know about what happened at Alcide’s. Sookie tells Bill about the Cluviel Dor and how it ended up to be a great big test for the both of them and apparently both of them failed the test.

Sookie goes to work the next day and tries to see Sam. Sam is still a little foggy about what happened to Jannalynn and Sookie has to break down and tell him. Arlene then comes in and asks Sookie if she can have her job back. Sookie says no.

Sam’s mom comes over and talks to Sookie to find out what her relationship is to Sam.
Arlene meets with Johan Glassport and tells him that Sookie would not hire her back. The he asks if she knows how to get into Sookie’s house so she can steal a scarf.

Sookie sees Terry Bellefleur at the Grabbit Kwik and they have a chat about the Sam and Terry’s girlfriend who Terry slipped off and got married to. Sookie decides to call Eric and try to talk to him and he tells her that he can’t really talk to her right now, but he can see her tomorrow night.

She goes home and looks at her email. She has one from Desmond Cataliades. He tells her he is back in New Orleans and had done some detective work and he has some information for her. He hears rumours that bother him.

Eric visits Sookie’s house unannounced in her room and he explains he may have to divorce her in public (vampire public) and that though he is mad at her about the Cluviel Dor, he still cares enough about her to keep her safe and gives her a guard in the form of Karin.

Sookie meets Karin, the elder child of Eric. Sookie does the twenty questions with Karin about his attitude and Karin says she can’t really expand on Eric’s situation and asks Sookie how Sam is doing after his resurrection.

The next morning, Sookie comes to work and she and Sam discover Arlene dead in the dumpster. They discuss what they should do and in the end they call the police. She tells Andy that Arlene was at the bar the day before and she asked for her job back and Sookie turned her away. She said she had an alibi for where she was last night in the form of Karin Slaughter, the vampire. Sookie says the scarf used to strangle her looked like one of her scarves.

The Sookie does some business and discovers all her Claudine money was tied up and she could not get to it. The she tells Sam she has to go and meet Eric to do something unpleasant.

Jason and Michele come into Merlottes’s when they open at three and Sookie talks to them and Maxine Fortenberry. Jane Bodehouse came in to everyone’s surprise because she was suing Sam for her injuries she got when the bar was fire bombed. They hammer out a deal that Sam will pay her hospital bills as soon as drops the case.

Karin comes to pick Sookie up from work and she appears before Eric and De Castro and Freyda to do the divorce.

Bill is sitting in Sookie’s yard when she gets home and Bill is quiet as is Sookie. Eric arrives and tells her he has no intention of letting her go that he will set her up as his mistress and she says no, that he told her that he said he would love as much as possible and this was just not enough and he says she should have known that he would try his best to keep her, that she never took their marriage seriously and he should have turned her or made Pam turn her so he could keep her forever even though she didn’t want to be a vampire. Sookie gets mad and asks how he could consider making her something she despised (hypocrite) and then she says the marriage was not real because it was not a real church wedding and then she rescinds Eric’s invitation.

The next morning, Sookie is arrested for murder.

Alcee Beck arrests Sookie for murder and Sookie could tell there was something wrong with him, like he was under some sort of spell. Andy really doesn’t think Sookie did it and Sookie tells him that he needs to search Alcee’s car. Jason comes to see her and she has him call her lawyer and Desmond Cataliades. Jane is sleeping off a bender but when she wakes up she tells Sookie she remembered seeing Arlene talking to two men behind Tray Dawson’s old place.

Sookie’s lawyer appears for the hearing and Sookie is given bail and Eric (through Mustapha Khan) pays for the bail. She goes home and finds a threatening message on her answering machine. She calls Andy and before she hangs up she tells Andy he has to go through Alcee’s car.

Sam does not want Sookie to come into work but she does anyway. Andy listens to the message and takes the tape with him. Sookie knows he has not done anything about Alcee. Sam’s behavior puzzles Sookie. He acts like he can barely stand to be around her but he assures her he is her friend and he will be behind her all the way. Sookie is confused but as she leaves, she sees someone behind Merlotte’s as she leaves and she asks Kenya to see her home. Andy left a message on her phone that the threatening call traces back to a house in New Orleans that is empty.

Sookie calls Mr. Cataliades and Diantha answers the phone. She tells Sookie they were going to see her, that something is going on. Then Sookie tells her good, that she is being accused of murder of Arlene and Diantha said they knew something was bad according to Amelia.

Bill then calls and asks if he can speak to her and brings Harp Powell out to speak to her. He is writing the book about the girl who was murdered at Eric’s house. Bill tells her he tried to reach her and couldn’t and Sookie tells Bill she was in jail accused of murdering Arlene.

Sookie is told to stay home again by Sam which bothers her. Amelia calls and tells her they are on their way and Mr. Cataliades said she should call.

Sookie gets ready for her guests and changes sheets and all that. She ruminates about Dermot and Claude a little. She thinks about going to the grocery store when Amelia drives up with Bob and Barry Bellboy. Then Mr. Cataliades and Diantha pull up. Sookie tells Amelia she is pregnant.

Barry then tells Sookie about a coup down in Texas. Stan Davis was staked and Joseph Valesquez managed to pull out and win. The Barry said he saw Johan Glassport in New Orleans. He said there was something wrong with his head because Barry could not read his mind. Amelia said her dad was acting weird too then Cataliades calls the meeting to order and Sookie tells everything she knows.

After Sookie tells her story, Amelia is interested in finding out who Arlene was talking to and Bob says he wants to bring in a psychic. Barry wants to talk to Arlene’s Kids. Diantha wants to steal the scarf and search Alcee Beck’s car. Sookie asserts her belief has been spelled.

Then they went to luch at Lucky’s BBQ. Bob says that Copely Carmichael has been having some sort of trouble in the paper. Suddenly Quinn walks in. Tijgerin is still doing great and she is getting big, revealing that two natured moms have more advanced pregnancies. He then tells her he is there to help that Sam put it up on the two natured board on line that she was in trouble. Alcide is also on her side because she is a friend of the pack.

After lunch they went shopping for groceries and stock Sookie’s house for visitors. They get home and put everything away and Mr. Cataliades tells Sookie that a devil has been seen around New Orleans and was seen with Copely Carmichael. Apparently they struck a deal with the devil. Mr. Cataliades explains that once you sell your soul to the devil you don’t have a soul. Sookie asks if Copely is the one who is trying to put her in jail and Cataliades says no, that he did ask for the Cluviel Dor. Amelia (Voice of America) Broadway has to admit she spilled the beans to Copely.

Sookie and Quinn take a walk around the property and Quinn says he scents a fairy.

Diantha and Mr. Cataliades are out on a mission for most of the evening and came home after dark. Sookie mulls over Eric and she decides that Eric is not really ungenerous or uncaring, he is just a Vampire who is practical and sort of a social climber in his world after all but maybe he had done some things to secure her safety. Still, Sam’s attitude is puzzling to Sookie so she sends him an email.

Mr. Cataliades has been joining forces with her lawyer and Barry went out to quiz Arlene’s kids about what they knew and Bob has contacted the psychic. Sookie goes to work and eyeballs Sam and demands he tell her what is going on but Sam says he can’t talk about it. After work, Sookie goes home and Alcide shows up to sniff around and tells her that Arlene has been in her house.

Quinn calls and tells her that Johan Glassport has been scented around and then he can’t come back right away because he has Eric’s wedding to take care of.

Over supper, Diantha tells Sookie she stole back the scarf and Amelia thought that Arlene was using some sort of charm to get past her wards and then Mr Cataliades tells her that he has been helping Niall liquidate all of Claude and Claudine’s property and she is getting the money from it. Three thousand dollars a month for the rest of her life. Amelia and Bob redo the wards around her house.

At midnight the wards go off and it was Horst Friedman, De Castro’s right hand man. He was there to make sure Sookie didn’t do anything to try and keep Eric from getting married. Bill takes him away. The next morning Bill left a message and he said Eric asked if Sam was staying at her house and she should not worry about Horst, that De Castro’s people came and took him away.

Bob tells Sookie the psychic is coming and she informs Sookie that whoever killed Arlene liked killing women, so this could only mean it was Johan Glassport. Sookie goes to work with Diantha as a body guard and tells Sam about what has happened and how worried she is about him and he tells her he wished he could be there but he can’t tell her why he can’t. Mustapha Khan stops by Merlotte’s while Sookie is at work and tells her Eric wants the stuff he left at her house. So they go to her house and they find Tyrese is at her house and he has shot Bob. He wants to kill Sookie so at least someone will get something out of the deal they made with the devil. He tells them he has AIDS and Gypsy the woman he traded his soul for gave it to him and then she killed herself. When Tyrese goes to kill Sookie, Warren, Mustapha’s boyfriend, shoots him but not before Sookie gets shot in the shoulder.

Sookie is taken to the hospital with Bob and she is okay and Bob is sort of serious. Andy comes to see Sookie but she isn’t any shape to give a statement but she does tell him to clean out Alcee Beck;s car for the third time. Barry comes to see Sookie and tells her what in all happened and how souless people are immune to most magik.

Sam comes by and Sookie knows there is something going on and she asks him about it but he says he can’t tell her. Then Eric comes in and offers blood but she refuses and Eric is not happy Sam is there and he tells Sam, “I will not release you.”

Amelia comes to see Sookie the next day and she tells her that Bob is being moved to Shreveport and then maybe to New Orleans later be she has to go to Shreveport with him.

Bill left Sookie a note and he tells her that De Castro sends his apologies to her and that he considers Eric’s promises to be still good and to make sure that they stay way, Eric is leaving Louisiana tonight. Bill also tells her he has something to tell her when the sun goes down.

Jason picks her up from the hospital and brings her home. Michele has been cleaning her house up and Diantha and Mr. Cataliades are off on a hunt and Kennedy Keyes calls and tells Sookie she and Danny are moving into one of Sam’s rentals.

Bill comes over and tells her about Eric.

After Bill left, Sookie called Sam and told him to get his butt to her house pronto, that she knows what Eric did. Apparently Eric paid Sookie’s bail if Sam promised not to court Sookie. Sookie tells him that she was just informed that her Claudine money was free and she could pay her own bail money and give Eric’s back so he did not have to keep the promise he made to Eric.

Sam tells Sookie he has wanted her a long time and he wants the chance to make her his and she says that she thinks that the Cluviel Dor and using it sort of broke the spell that was over her relationship with Eric and her feelings have changed. Sam gets Sookie a pain pill and brings her a note she overlooked. It was from Diantha and she told her they had something in her Vampire hidey hole. Sookie goes and looks and it is Copely Carmichael. She gets in bed and Sam joins her to sleep, saying he is guarding her.

Tara comes up the next day and sees Sam in bed with Sookie

The next day, Diantha and Mr. Cataliades go to see Alcee Beck and Diantha finds the hex bag in his car and that snaps him out of it. Sookie shows Mr, Cataliades and Diantha Copely Carmichael in her hidey hole and asks them about Barry. They say Barry is hunting for Glassport.

Pam and Karin come at sundown and Karin tells Sookie that she is the one who caught Copely and put him in the hidey hole.Pam announces that she is now the sheriff of Area Five and then tells Sookie Eric’s wish list and that is no Vampires would ever trouble her again and Karin would watch over Sookie for a year and he would have no contact with her or Pam or Karin so he could get used to the new Vampires in Oklahoma. Pam assures Sookie she is still her friend and they both leave.

Diantha and Mr. Cataliades take Copely away.

The next day, Sookie is all alone in her house and she decides to lay in the sun but she left her iPod at work so she goes to get it and sees Sam working on his hedges and decides to take him to bed. But she tells him afterward that she wants to take it slow on the emotional part because she doesn’t want him to be the rebound guy.

After an afternoon of hot seal sex, Sookie goes home and bathes and shaves her legs (rut roh shaggy) and gets ready for her date with Sam. They are double dating at a Country and Western Dance Hall with Jason and Michele. While she is dancing, she gets taken by Steve Newlin and Johan Glassport and Claude.
Claude had been kicked out of fairy after he had been tortured and he looks terrible. He hired Johan Glassport and Steve Newlin to get her into trouble and to finally snatch her for their final revenge. Sookie mentions that Claude is gay and this really steams up Glassport and Newlin and they precede to get into a fight and Sookie escapes. But, Sam and them realized she had been kidnapped and they and the whole bar more or less have been following Sookie and as Sookie is running toward them, a dude comes out and tells Sookie to duck and he shoots Glassport and then Steve Newlin comes out and he gets hit on the head and he later dies. They grab Claude and Sookie whispers “Human Jail” to him and he goes into a rage and the guy shoots Claude.

Sookie goes to work the next day and when she gets home, Diantha and Mr. Cataliades are there with Barry, who has been beaten all to hell by Claude and Glassport and Newlin. He tells Sookie they were after Hunter and she is relieved that Hunter is still safe but worried about Barry who needs to heal somewhere away from here and she suggests he goes to Texas with Sam’s mom to recuperate.

Bob is transferred to New Orleans and Amelia swears she is going to find the witch that gave the hex and the spell to keep her wards from keeping Arlene out of the house. Jason and Michele get married and Sookie and Sam are signing on to help Tara and JB with some home improvement stuff. Niall left Sookie a note in a rose telling her about how he had allowed Claude to get broken out of fairy jail and exiled into the human world for some sort of convoluted scheme to get him to betray other traitors to him. Sam is still trying to nail down the relationship but Sookie is just trying to keep him cool…at least till Christmas.

Thank you Minnie, I was just looking for that

Unofficial Synopsis:

Sookie finds it easy to turn down the request of former barmaid Arlene when she wants her job back at Merlotte’s. After all, Arlene tried to have Sookie killed. But her relationship with Eric Northman is not so clearcut. He and his vampires are keeping their distance… and a cold silence. And when Sookie learns the reason why, she is devastated.

Then a shocking murder rocks Bon Temps, and Sookie is arrested for the crime But the evidence against Sookie is weak, and she makes bail. Investigating the killing, she’ll learn that what passes for truth in Bon Temps is only a convenient lie. What passes for justice is more spilled blood. And what passes for love is never enough… for love is never enough…


This is just some stuff that has been floating around the web about the book...Nothing is substantiated yet...so we will see what we shall see....

I just pre-odered my copy. It will be here May 7th(the release date). I'm looking forward to reading it.

I preordered mine as well, a couple of months ago....I am looking forward to seeing how she ends the series

Found this today..

http://shelf-life.ew.com/2013/03/12/sookie-stackhouse-charlaine-harris-dead-ever-after-trailer/

Renee

Thanks Renee, a great find, especially since she has not given a a chapter yet

About time seeing as it's just two weeks away from release.

http://www.us.penguingroup.com/nf/Book/BookDisplay/0,,9781937007881,00.html?sym=EXC

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Dead Ever After
A Sookie Stackhouse Novel
Charlaine Harris


directory
Prologue

JANUARY

The New Orleans businessman, whose gray hair put him in his fif¬ties, was accompanied by his much younger and taller bodyguard/ chauffeur on the night he met the devil in the French Quarter. The meeting was by prearrangement.

“This is really the Devil we’re going to see?” asked the bodyguard. He was tense—but then, that wasn’t too surprising.

“Not the Devil, but a devil.” The businessman was cool and col¬lected on the outside, but maybe not so much on the inside. “Since he came up to me at the Chamber of Commerce banquet, I’ve learned a lot of things I didn’t know before.” He looked around him, trying to spot the creature he’d agreed to meet. He told his bodyguard, “He convinced me that he was what he said he was. I always thought my daughter was simply deluded. I thought she imagined she had power because she wanted to have something . . . of her own. Now I’m willing to admit she has a certain talent, though nowhere near what she thinks.”

It was cold and damp, even in New Orleans, in the January night. The businessman shifted from foot to foot to keep warm. He told the bodyguard, “Evidently, meeting at a crossroads is traditional.” The street was not as busy as it would be in the summer, but there were still drink¬ers and tourists and natives going about their night’s entertainment. He wasn’t afraid, he told himself. “Ah, here he comes,” the businessman said.

The devil was a well– dressed man, much like the businessman. His tie was by Hermes. His suit was Italian. His shoes were custom made. His eyes were abnormally clear, the whites gleaming, the irises a pur¬plish brown; they looked almost red from certain angles.

“What have you got for me?” the devil asked, in a voice that indi¬cated he was only faintly interested.

“Two souls,” said the businessman. “Tyrese has agreed to go in with me.”

The devil shifted his gaze to the bodyguard. After a moment, the bodyguard nodded. He was a big man, a light–skinned African Amer¬ican with bright hazel eyes.

“Your own free will?” the devil asked neutrally. “Both of you?”

“My own free will,” said the businessman.

“My own free will,” affirmed the bodyguard.

The devil said, “Then let’s get down to business.”

“Business” was a word that made the older man comfortable. He smiled. “Wonderful. I’ve got the documents right here, and they’re signed.” Tyrese opened a thin leather folder and withdrew two pieces of paper: not parchment or human skin, nothing that dramatic or exotic—computer paper that the businessman’s office secretary had bought at Office Max. Tyrese offered the papers to the devil, who gave them a quick glance.

“You have to sign them again,” the devil said. “For this signature, ink is not satisfactory.”

“I thought you were joking about that.” The businessman frowned.

“I never joke,” the devil said. “I do have a sense of humor, oh, believe me, I do. But not about contracts.”

“We actually have to . . . ?”

“Sign in blood? Yes, absolutely. It’s traditional. And you’ll do it now.” He read the businessman’s sideways glance correctly. “I promise you no one will see what you are doing,” he said. As the devil spoke, a sudden hush enveloped the three men, and a thick film fell between them and the rest of the street scene.

The businessman sighed elaborately, to show how melodramatic he thought this tradition was. “Tyrese, your knife?” he said, looking up to the chauffeur.

Tyrese’s knife appeared with shocking suddenness, probably from his coat sleeve; the blade was obviously sharp, and it gleamed in the streetlight. The businessman shucked off his coat and handed it to his companion. He unbuttoned his cuff and rolled up his sleeve. Perhaps to let the devil know how tough he was, he jabbed himself in the left arm with the knife. A sluggish trickle of blood rewarded his effort, and he looked the devil directly in the face as he accepted the quill that the devil had somehow supplied . . . even more smoothly than Tyrese had produced the knife. Dipping the quill into the trail of blood, the busi¬nessman signed his name to the top document, which the chauffeur held pressed against the leather folder.

After he’d signed, the businessman returned the knife to the chauf¬feur and donned his coat. The chauffeur followed the same procedure as his employer. When he’d signed his own contract, he blew on it to dry the blood as if he’d signed with a Sharpie and the ink might smear.

The devil smiled when the signatures were complete. The moment he did, he didn’t look quite so much like a prosperous man of affairs.

He looked too damn happy.

“You get a signing bonus,” he told the businessman. “Since you brought me another soul. By the way, how do you feel?”

“Just like I always did,” said the businessman. He shrugged his coat back over his shoulders. “Maybe a little angry.” He smiled suddenly, his teeth looking as sharp and gleaming as the knife had. “How are you, Tyrese? ” he asked his employee.

“A little antsy,” Tyrese admitted. “But I’ll be okay.”

“You were both bad people to begin with,” the devil said, without any judgment in his voice. “The souls of the innocent are sweeter. But I delight in having you. I suppose you’re sticking with the usual wish list? Prosperity? The defeat of your enemies?”

“Yes, I want those things,” the businessman said with passionate sincerity. “And I have a few more requests, since I get a signing bonus. Or could I take that in cash?”

“Oh,” the devil said, smiling gently, “I don’t deal in cash. I deal in favors.”

“Can I get back to you on that?” the businessman asked after some thought. “Take a rain check?”

The devil looked faintly interested. “You don’t want an Alfa Romeo, or a night with Nicole Kidman, or the biggest house in the French Quarter?”

The businessman shook his head decisively. “I’m sure something will come up that I do want, and then I’d like to have a very good chance of getting it. I was a successful man until Katrina. And after

Katrina I thought I would be rich, because I own a lumber business. Everyone needed lumber.” He took a deep breath. He kept on telling his story, despite the fact that the devil looked bored. “But getting a supply line reestablished was hard. So many people didn’t have money to spend because they were ruined, and there was the wait for the insurance money, for the rest. I made some mistakes, believing the fly–by–night builders would pay me on time. . . . It all ended up with my business too extended, everyone owing me, my credit stretched as thin as a condom on an elephant. Knowledge of this is getting around.” He looked down. “I’m losing the influence I had in this city.”

Possibly the devil had known all those things, and that was why he’d approached the businessman. Clearly he was not interested in the businessman’s litany of woes. “Prosperity it is, then,” he said briskly. “And I look forward to your special request. Tyrese, what do you want? I have your soul, too.”

“I don’t believe in souls,” Tyrese said flatly. “I don’t think my boss does, either. We don’t mind giving you what we don’t believe we have.” He grinned at the devil, man to man, which was a mistake. The devil was no man.

The devil smiled back. Tyrese’s grin vanished at the sight. “What do you want?” the devil repeated. “I won’t ask again.”

“I want Gypsy Kidd. Her real name is Katy Sherboni, if you need that. She work at Bourbon Street Babes. I want her to love me the way I love her.”

The businessman looked disappointed in his employee. “Tyrese, I wish you’d asked for something more lasting. Sex is everywhere you look in New Orleans, and girls like Gypsy are a dime a dozen.”

“You wrong,” Tyrese said. “I don’t think I have a soul, but I know love is once in a lifetime. I love Gypsy. If she loves me back, I’ll be a happy man. And if you make money, boss, I’ll make money. I’ll have enough. I’m not greedy.”

“I’m all about the greed,” said the devil, almost gently. “You may end up wishing you’d asked for some government bonds, Tyrese.”

The chauffeur shook his head. “I’m happy with my bargain. You give me Gypsy, the rest will be all right. I know it.”

The devil looked at him with what seemed very much like pity, if that emotion was possible for a devil.

“Enjoy yourselves, you hear?” he said to both of the newly soulless men. They could not tell if he was mocking them or if he was sincere. “Tyrese, you will not see me again until our final meeting.” He faced the businessman. “Sir, you and I will meet at some date in the future. Just give me a call when you’re ready for your signing bonus. Here’s my card.”

The businessman took the plain white card. The only writing on it was a phone number. It was not the same number he’d called to set up the first rendezvous. “But what if it’s years from now?” he said.

“It won’t be,” said the devil, but his voice was farther away. The businessman looked up to see that the devil was half a block away. After seven more steps he seemed to melt into the dirty sidewalk, leav¬ing only an impression in the cold damp air.

The businessman and the chauffeur turned and walked hastily in the opposite direction. The chauffeur never saw the devil again. The businessman didn’t see the devil until June.

JUNE

Far away—thousands of miles away—a tall, thin man lay on a beach in Baja. He was not in one of the tourist spots where he might encoun¬ter lots of other gringos, who might recognize him. He was patronizing a dilapidated bar, really more of a hut. For a small cash payment, the proprietor would rent patrons a large towel and a beach umbrella and send his son out to refresh your drink from time to time. As long as you kept drinking.

Though the tall man was only sipping Coca–Cola, he was paying through the nose for it—though he didn’t seem to realize that, or per¬haps he didn’t care. He sat on the towel, crouched in the umbrella’s shade, wearing a hat and sunglasses and swim trunks. Close to him was an ancient backpack, and his flip–flops were set on the sand beside it, casting off a faint smell of hot rubber. The tall man was listening to an iPod, and his smile indicated he was very pleased with what he heard. He lifted his hat to run his fingers through his hair. It was golden blond, but there was a bit of root showing that hinted his natural color was nearly gray. Judging from his body, he was in his forties. He had a small head in relation to his broad shoulders, and he did not look like a man who was used to manual labor. He didn’t look rich, either; his entire ensemble, the flip–flops and the swim trunks, the hat and the dark glasses, had come from a Wal–Mart or some even cheaper dollar store.

It didn’t pay to look affluent in Baja, not with the way things were these days. It wasn’t safe, gringos weren’t exempt from the violence, and most tourists stayed in the established resorts, flying in and out with¬out driving through the countryside. There were a few other expats around, most unattached men with an air of desperation . . . or secrecy. Their reasons for choosing such a hazardous place to live were better not discovered. Asking questions could be unhealthy.

One of these expats, a recent arrival, came to sit close to the tall man, too close for such proximity to be an accident on a thinly popu¬lated beach. The tall man gave the unwelcome newcomer a sideways look from behind his dark glasses, which were obviously prescrip¬tion. The newcomer was a man in his thirties, not tall or short, not handsome or ugly, not reedy or muscular. He was medium in all aspects, physically. This medium man had been watching the tall man for a few days, and the tall man had been sure he’d approach him sooner or later.

The medium man had carefully selected the optimum moment. The two were sitting in a place on the beach where no one else could hear them or approach them unseen, and even with satellites in the atmosphere it was probable that no one could see them without being spotted, either. The taller man was mostly hidden under the beach umbrella. He noticed that his visitor was sitting in its shadow.

“What are you listening to?” asked the medium man, pointing to the earbuds inserted in the tall man’s ears.

He had a faint accent, maybe a German one? From one of those European countries, anyway, thought the tall man, who was not well traveled. And the newcomer also had a remarkably unpleasant smile. It looked okay, with the upturned lips and the bared teeth, but somehow the effect was more as if an animal were exposing its teeth preparatory to biting you.

“You a homo? I’m not interested,” the tall man said. “In fact, you’ll be judged with hellfire.”

The medium man said, “I like women. Very much. Sometimes more than they want.” His smile became quite feral. And he asked again, “What are you listening to?”

The tall man debated, staring angrily at his companion. But it had been days since he’d talked to anyone. At last, he opted for the truth. “I’m listening to a sermon,” he said.

The medium man exhibited only mild surprise. “Really? A sermon? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a man of the cloth.” But his smile said otherwise. The tall man began to feel uneasy. He began to think of the gun in his backpack, less than an arm’s length away. At least he’d opened the buckles when he’d put it down.

“You’re wrong, but God won’t punish you for it,” the tall man said calmly, his own smile genial. “I’m listening to one of my own old ser¬mons. I spoke God’s truth to the multitudes.”

“Did no one believe you?” The medium man cocked his head curi¬ously.

“Many believed me. Many. I was attracting quite a following. But a girl named . . . a girl brought about my downfall. And put my wife in jail, too, in a way.”

“Would that girl’s name have been Sookie Stackhouse?” asked the medium man, removing his sunglasses to reveal remarkably pale eyes.

The taller man’s head snapped in his direction. “How’d you know? ” he said.

JUNE

The devil was eating beignets, fastidiously, when the businessman walked up to the outside table. The devil noticed the spring in Copley Carmichael’s step. He looked even more prosperous than he had when he was broke. Carmichael was in the business section of the newspaper frequently these days. An infusion of capital had reestablished him very quickly as an economic force in New Orleans, and his political clout had expanded along with the money he pumped into New Orleans’s sputtering economy, which had been dealt a crippling blow by

Katrina. Which, the devil pointed out quickly to anyone who asked, he’d had simply nothing to do with.

Today Carmichael looked healthy and vigorous, ten years younger than he actually was. He sat at the devil’s table without any greeting.

“Where’s your man, Mr. Carmichael?” asked the devil, after a sip of his coffee.

Carmichael was busy placing a drink order with the waiter, but when the young man was gone he said, “Tyrese has trouble these days, and I gave him some time off.”

“The young woman? Gypsy?”

“Of course,” said Carmichael, not quite sneering. “I knew if he asked for her, he wouldn’t be pleased with the results, but he was so sure that true love would win in the end.”

“And it hasn’t?”

“Oh, yes, she’s crazy about him. She loves him so much she has sex with him all the time. She couldn’t stop herself, even though she knew she was HIV positive . . . a fact she didn’t share with Tyrese.”

“Ah,” the devil said. “Not my work, that virus. So how is Tyrese faring?”

“He’s HIV positive, too,” Carmichael said, shrugging. “He’s getting treatment, and it’s not the instant death sentence it used to be. But he’s very emotional about it.” Carmichael shook his head. “I always thought he had better sense.”

“I understand you wish to ask for your signing bonus,” the devil said. Carmichael saw no connection between the two ideas.

“Yes,” Copley Carmichael said. He grinned at the devil and leaned forward confidentially. In a barely audible whisper he said, “I know exactly what I want. I want you to find me a cluviel dor.”

The devil looked genuinely surprised. “How did you learn of the existence of such a rare item?”

“My daughter brought it up in conversation,” Carmichael said, with¬out a hint of shame. “It sounded interesting, but she stopped talking before she told me the name of the person who supposedly has one. So I had a man I know hack into her e–mail. I should have done that earlier. It’s been illuminating. She’s living with a fellow I don’t trust. After our last conversation, she got so angry with me that she’s refused to see me. Now I can keep tabs on her without her knowing, so I can protect her from her own bad judgment.”

He was absolutely sincere when he made this statement. The devil saw that Carmichael believed that he loved his daughter, that he knew what was best for her under any circumstance.

“So Amelia had been talking to someone about a cluviel dor,” the devil said. “That led her to bring it up with you. How interesting. No one’s had one for . . . well, in my memory. A cluviel dor would have been made by the fae . . . and you understand, they are not tiny, cute creatures with wings.”

Carmichael nodded. “I’m astounded to discover what exists out there,” he said. “I have to believe in fairies now. And I have to consider that maybe my daughter isn’t such a screwball after all. Though I think she’s deluded about her own power.”

The devil raised his perfect eyebrows. There seemed to be more than one deluded person in the Carmichael family. “About the cluviel dor . . . the fae used them all. I don’t believe there are any left on earth, and I can’t go into Faery since the upheaval. A thing or two has been expelled out of Faery . . . but nothing goes in.” He looked mildly regretful.

“There is one cluviel dor available, and from what I can tell, it’s being concealed by a friend of my daughter’s,” Copley Carmichael said. “I know you can find it.”

“Fascinating,” the devil said, quite sincerely. “And what do you want it for? After I find it?”

“I want my daughter back,” Carmichael said. His intensity was almost palpable. “I want the power to change her life. So I know what I’ll wish for, when you track it down for me. The woman who knows where it is . . . she’s not likely to give it up. It was a legacy from her grandmother, and she’s not a big fan of mine.”

The devil turned his face to the morning sun, and his eyes glowed red briefly. “Imagine that. I’ll set things in motion. The name of your daughter’s friend, the one who may know the whereabouts of the clu¬viel dor?”

“She’s in Bon Temps. It’s up north, not too far from Shreveport. Sookie Stackhouse.”

The devil nodded slowly. “I’ve heard the name.”

JULY

The next time the devil met with Copley Carmichael, three days after their conversation at Café du Monde, he dropped by Carmichael’s table at Commander’s Palace. Carmichael was waiting for his dinner, and busy on his cell phone with a contractor who wanted to extend his credit line. Carmichael was unwilling, and he explained why in no uncertain terms. When he looked up, the devil was standing there in the same suit he’d worn when they’d met the first time. He looked cool and impeccable.

As Carmichael put the phone down, the devil slid into the chair across from his.

Carmichael had jumped when he recognized the devil. And since he hated being surprised, he was unwise. He snarled, “What the hell do you mean coming here? I didn’t ask you to visit!”

“What the hell, indeed,” said the devil, who didn’t seem to take offense. He ordered a single malt whiskey from the waiter who’d mate¬rialized at his elbow. “I assumed you’d want to hear the news of your cluviel dor.”

Carmichael’s expression changed instantly. “You found it! You have it!”

“Sadly, Mr. Carmichael, I do not,” said the devil. (He did not sound sad.) “Something rather unexpected has thwarted our plans.” The waiter deposited the whiskey with some ceremony, and the devil took a sip and nodded.

“What?” Carmichael said, almost unable to speak for anger.

“Miss Stackhouse used the cluviel dor, and its magic has been expended.”

There was a moment of silence fraught with all the emotions the devil enjoyed.

“I’ll see her ruined,” said Copley Carmichael venomously, keeping his voice down with a supreme effort. “You’ll help me. That’s what I’ll take instead of the cluviel dor.”

“Oh my goodness. You’ve used your signing bonus, Mr. Carmichael. Mustn’t get greedy.”

“But you didn’t get me the cluviel dor!” Even though he was an experienced businessman, Carmichael was astonished and outraged.

“I found it and was ready to take it from her pocket,” said the devil.

“I entered the body of someone standing next to her. But she used it before I could extract it. Finding it was the favor you requested. You used those words twice, and ’locate it’ once. Our dealings are concluded.” He tossed back his drink.

“At least help me get back at her,” Carmichael said, his face red with rage. “She crossed us both.”

“Not me,” said the devil. “I’ve seen Miss Stackhouse up close and talked to many people who know her. She seems like an interesting woman. I have no cause to do her harm.” He stood up. “In fact, if I may advise you, walk away from this. She has some powerful friends, among them your daughter.”

“My daughter is a woman who runs around with witches,” Carmi¬chael said. “She’s never been able to make her own living, not com¬pletely. I’ve been researching her ’friends,’ very discreetly.” He sighed, sounding both angry and exasperated. “I understand their powers exist. I believe that now. Reluctantly. But what have they done with those powers? The strongest among them lives in a shack.” Carmichael’s knuckles rapped against the table. “My daughter could be a force in society in this town. She could work for me, and do all kinds of charity stuff, but instead she lives in her own little world with her loser boy¬friend. Like her friend Sookie. But I’ll even the score there. How many powerful friends could a waitress have?”

The devil glanced over to his left. Two tables away sat a very round man with dark hair, who was by himself at a table laden with food. The very round man met the devil’s eyes without blinking or looking away, which few men could do. After a long moment, the two nodded at each other.

Carmichael was glaring at the devil.

“I owe you nothing for Tyrese any longer,” said the devil. “And you are mine forever. Given your present course, I may have you sooner than I’d expected.” He smiled, a chilling expression on his smooth face, and he rose from the table and left.

Carmichael was even angrier when he had to pay for the devil’s whiskey. He never even noticed the very round man. But the very round man noticed him.

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Seriously, what in the name of crispy eff is she thinking???????? I don't need coffee this morning after reading this, I need fricking tequila!!!!!

Renee

Yeah, I can tell already this is a two valium alarm

Review of Dead Ever After MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

Okay, so I was not surprised Sookie ended up with Sam…

Was I disappointed though? I sure was.

But what disappointed me more is how Charlaine Harris made Eric a sneak every bit as devious as Bill and then made him disappear forever to Oklahoma…I guess Eric did not mind being a Sooner after all.
Then the general tangle of the mystery of who killed Arlene and then the tangle gut of sneakiness with Claude and Johan Glassport and Rev Steve Newlin….meh…It still makes no sense…

I am just embarrassed for Charlaine Harris. Several of her Sookie Books were actually pretty good and fun to read and sexy but in the last four books or so, you could tell she cared less and less about the stories, her readers and most of all, her characters.

She has taken complex characters and made them greedy, over reaching, mean spirited and reactionary and even cold hearted. After divorcing her, Eric was just going to keep her on the side or make Pam turn her though he knew she would never want to be vampire. Then Sookie finally confessed she didn’t know if vampires had a soul or if they were damned so that is why she never wanted to be one of them… fucking them was okay, just don’t want to be one of them because your soul may be imperiled… Hypocrite…

Bill becomes a…what is it Pam called him? A Tween? When he gets to tell Sookie that Eric bailed Sookie out at Sam’s request if he promised to have nothing to do with her…Which made both vampires suddenly “mean girls”….give me a small break…

And the book was a mess…She should have dispensed with chapters and just prefaced each shift in story with the words “And then…” like you would if you were telling someone the short version of some long winded piece of gossip. As I told Ani in a chat…It was like Charlaine Harris wrote the bits on note cards and then put them in the order she liked them, typed them up and gave them to her publisher and said….”Here…take it…this is the last of Sookie….”

The only thing I liked about the book besides the quality of paper and choice of font is that she didn’t hurt our vampires…I was willing to bet that one or both were going to meet the true death…

So thank god for fan fiction….

Perez Hilton has reposted a little tid that has been floating around, thought you would like to read it once more.

http://perezhilton.com/2013-05-08-true-blood-author-charlaine-harris-threatened-over-series-ending/#comments

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2013/may/10/charlaine-harris-sookie-stackhouse-true-blood

The author makes a few more comments

"She [Harris] said she didn't want to go on tour for this book because she didn't want to be face to face with that ... She was prepared for it, she knew people would be unhappy."

and

On Amazon, Dead Ever After has received 366 one-star reviews, compared with 124 five-star reviews. One reader described the "extreme disappointment" they felt with the novel by pointing to a blog post claiming that "if Charlaine Harris had written the Harry Potter series, the end of Deathly Hallows would have Harry sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs with the spiders and no magic. While Voldemort would move in across the street, taunt him daily, and dispense life advice."

and


I'm going with the love
Do you think someone has their head in the sand and refuses to see reality much?

Sigh, I just wished she hadn't gone with the soft option on Sam and I wished she had not made every other man in her life a spineless coward.

http://www.shreveporttimes.com/article/20130613/ENT/306130024/Author-Charlaine-Harris-chats-world-Sookie-Stackhouse-True-Blood-?gcheck=1

Charlaine says the readers have to get over it and get a life...Sure CH...whatever you say

I think she would have more room to grouse if she hadn't spent 13 books to get to the HEA and make every third man in her life a shit heel. I mean, come on, she spent the first 3 books making Bill this reincarnation of Ashley Wilkes and then she made him the most disgusting boyfriend ever. Then she made Eric this god's gift to women with fangs who loves Sookie and does everything he can to make her his and makes Sookie the biggest ingrate in literature...I mean she is right up there with Katherine from Wuthering Heights who loves her poor boy but decided to marry the rich guy because she didn't want to be poor. Then she makes Eric this nine day wonder in Vampire Social Climbing and he just leaves everything, even his children....

If the books had been a trilogy with Bill at the beginning, Eric in the middle and Sam at the end...you could totally understand it, but this was a long term series that forced people to pick a side and then ended up with the soft option...Of course she would piss off a bunch of people...And as Aolani pointed out...Look at it from a financial stand point...If you bought all the books, even in soft bound, and paid like...8 bucks per title...times that by 13....That is 104 bucks you have spent on the series...If you bought it hardbound, with was 12 bucks a pop that was 156 dollars to buy the entire collection....So, there you are, sports fans...This is proof that she really has to own up to the fact that she owed something to the readers.

I understand they are her books and she can write whatever she wants to write, I get that, but she has to be true to the characters, the readers and to herself and she is really honest, I think she ended the books the way she did to get revenge on her readers for being so passionate, her characters for being her and whatever thing she is trying to exorcise out of her system and for some reason, a little bit of revenge on HBO and True Blood for being more successful and for changing her storyline so dramatically.

But that is just my

And if I may....Fan fiction is biggest thing going...I mean, let's just talk about it a moment...I had never heard of fan fic before I began to write it myself. The fact that I created adventures for us to go on for the hiatus and try to encourage others to do the same shows how much we loved her characters. It is a shame that fans care more about the characters than the original writer does. I mean, I would never think about writing fan fic of Gone With the Wind or really any other genre. And I think writers have to have to take heed of this. I can never get my fan fic published but this shows there is a community of writers who want to write and sometimes even write better than the original author. I am not saying that is true about my writing...because I know there is a lot of fan fic out there that is as good or better than mine...The point is, writers can no longer really say... I am the final word on anything I write, because that simply is not true. Anyone can pick up where you leave off and change things up and make the stories the way they want it.

So, writers beware. If you make people care about your characters, and we did, and you make them feel like they need to know what happened, you have to cater to them to a certain extent. You have to take their pulse. You have to know what they are thinking...That does not mean you can't write what you want, it just means that you have to be true and honest with everything and everyone reading you story or being characters in the story...You are the Maker, you are responsible what happens to the lives to the characters. I think CH has shot herself in the foot, she can never be trusted and no one will invest in the stories and care about the characters because we know you will do something to let us down....