They examined my car over and over, and finally they stood under one of the big lights, making notes on clipboards.

Not too long after that, the doctor came out to find me. She pulled her mask down and rubbed the back of her neck with a long, thin hand. "Miss Cooper is doing better. She's stable," she said.

I nodded, and then I closed my eyes for a moment with sheer relief. "Thank you," I croaked.

"We're going to airlift her to Schumpert in Shreveport. The helicopter'll be here any second."

I blinked, trying to decide if that were a good thing or a bad thing. No matter what my opinion was, the Were had to go to the best and closest hospital. When she became able to talk, she'd have to tell them something. How could I ensure that her story jibed with mine?

"Is she conscious?" I asked.

"Just barely," the doctor said, almost angrily, as if such injuries were an insult to her personally. "You can speak to her briefly, but I can't guarantee she'll remember, or understand. I have to go talk to the cops." The two officers were striding back into the hospital, I saw from my place at the window.

"Thank you," I said, and followed her gesture to her left. I pushed open the door into the grim glaring room where they'd been working on the girl.

It was a mess. There were a couple of nurses in there even now, chatting about this or that and packing away some of the unused packages of bandages and tubes. A man with a bucket and mop stood waiting in a corner. He would clean the room when the Were—the girl—had been wheeled out to the helicopter. I went to the side of the narrow bed and took her hand.

I bent down close.

"Maria-Star, you know my voice?" I asked quietly. Her face was swollen from its impact with the ground, and it was covered with scratches and scrapes. These were the smallest of her injuries, but they looked very painful to me.

"Yes," she breathed.

"I'm the one that found you by the side of the road," I said. "On the way to my house, south of Bon Temps. You were lying by the parish road."

"Understand," she murmured.

"I guess," I continued carefully, "that someone made you get out of his car, and that someone then hit you with the car. But you know how it is after a trauma, sometimes people don't remember anything." One of the nurses turned to me, her face curious. She'd caught the last part of my sentence. "So don't worry if you don't remember."

"I'll try," she said ambiguously, still in that hushed, faraway voice.

There was nothing more I could do here, and a lot more that could go wrong, so I whispered "Good-bye," told the nurses I appreciated them, and went out to my car. Thanks to the blankets (which I supposed I'd have to replace for Bill), my backseat wasn't messed up too bad.

I was glad to find something to be pleased about.

I wondered about the blankets. Did the police have them? Would the hospital call me about them? Or had they been pitched in the garbage? I shrugged. There was no point worrying about two rectangles of material anymore, when I had so much else crammed on my worry list. For one thing, I didn't like the Weres congregating at Merlotte's. That pulled Sam way too far into Were concerns. He was a shifter, after all, and shifters were much more loosely involved with the supernatural world. Shifters tended to be more "every shifter for himself," while the Weres were always organized. Now they were using Merlotte's for a meeting place, after hours.

And then there was Eric. Oh, Lord, Eric would be waiting for me at the house.

I found myself wondering what time it was in Peru. Bill had to be having more fun than I was. It seemed like I'd gotten worn out on New Year's Eve and never caught up; I'd never felt this exhausted.

I was just past the intersection where I'd turned left, the road that eventually passed Merlotte's. The headlights illuminated flashes of trees and bushes. At least there were no more vampires running down the side . . .

"Wake up," said the woman sitting by me on the front seat.

"What?" My eyelids popped open. The car swerved violently.

"You were falling asleep."

By this time, I wouldn't have been surprised if a beached whale had lain across the road.

"You're who?" I asked, when I felt my voice might be under my control.

"Claudine."

It was hard to recognize her in the dashboard light, but sure enough, it seemed to be the tall and beautiful woman who'd been in Merlotte's New Year's Eve, who'd been with Tara the previous morning. "How did you get in my car? Why are you here?"

"Because there's been an unusual amount of supernatural activity in this area in the past week or two. I'm the go-between."

"Go between what?"

"Between the two worlds. Or, more accurately, between the three worlds."

Sometimes life just hands you more than you take. Then you just accept.

"So, you're like an angel? That's how come you woke me up when I was falling asleep at the wheel?"

"No, I haven't gotten that far yet. You're too tired to take this in. You have to ignore the mythology and just accept me for what I am."

I felt a funny jolt in my chest.

"Look," Claudine pointed out. "That man's waving to you."

Sure enough, in Merlotte's parking lot there stood a semaphoring vampire. It was Chow.

"Oh, just great," I said, in the grumpiest voice I could manage. "Well, I hope you don't mind us stopping, Claudine. I need to go in."

"Sure, I wouldn't miss it."

Chow waved me to the rear of the bar, and I was astonished to find the employee parking area jam-packed with cars that had been invisible from the road.

"Oh, boy!" Claudine said. "A party!" She got out of my car as if she could hardly restrain her glee, and I had the satisfaction of seeing that Chow was absolutely stupefied when he took in all six feet of her. It's hard to surprise a vampire.

"Let's go in," Claudine said gaily, and took my hand.

Every supe I'd ever met was in Merlotte's. Or maybe it just seemed like that, since I was dead tired and wanted to be by myself. The Were pack was there, all in human form and all more or less dressed, to my relief.

Alcide was in khakis and an unbuttoned shirt in green and blue plaid. It was hard to believe he could run on four legs. The Weres were drinking coffee or soft drinks, and Eric (looking happy and healthy) was having some TrueBlood. Pam was sitting on a barstool, wearing an ash green tracksuit, which she managed to make prim-but-sexy. She had a bow in her hair and beaded sneakers on her feet. She'd brought Gerald with her, a vampire I'd met once or twice at Fangtasia. Gerald looked about thirty, but I'd heard him refer to Prohibition once as if he'd lived through it. What little I knew of Gerald didn't predispose me to getting closer to him.

Even in such a company, my entrance with Claudine was nothing short of sensational. In the improved lighting of the bar, I could see that Claudine's strategically rounded body was packed into an orange knit dress, and her long legs ended in the highest of high heels. She looked like a scrumptious slut, super-sized.

Nope, she couldn't be an angel—at least, as I understood angels.

Looking from Claudine to Pam, I decided it was massively unfair that they looked so clean and appealing. Like I needed to feel unattractive, in addition to being worn out and scared and confused! Doesn't every gal want to walk into a room side by side with a gorgeous woman who practically has "I want to fuck" tattooed on her forehead? If I hadn't caught a glimpse of Sam, whom I'd dragged into this whole thing, I would've turned around and walked right out.

"Claudine," said Colonel Flood. "What brings you here?"

Pam and Gerald were both staring at the woman in orange intently, as if they expected her to take off her clothes any second.