"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."

Well, I might as well keep my thoughts to myself if I wasn't going to get any information out of my companions.

The only reason to kill Gladiola, at least the only reason that this direct human could see, was to delay my getting the message that I needed to be ready to leave for New Orleans. Also, Gladiola would have provided some buffer between me and anything that came after me, or at the least she would have been more alert to the attack.

As it was, she'd been lying dead in the woods when I'd gone on my date with Quinn. Whoa. How had the young wolves known where to find me? Shreveport isn't that big, but you couldn't guard every road into town on the off chance I'd show up. On the other hand, if a Were had spotted Quinn and me going into the theater, they'd have known I'd be there for a couple of hours, and that was time enough to arrange something.

If this mastermind had known even earlier, it would have been even easier… if someone, say, had known beforehand that Quinn had asked me to go the theater. Who'd known I had a date with Quinn? Well, Tara: I'd told her when I bought my outfit. And I'd mentioned it to Jason, I thought, when I'd called him to inquire after Crystal. I'd told Pam I had a date, but I didn't remember telling her where I was going.

And then there was Quinn himself.

I was so grieved by this idea that I had to suppress tears. It was not like I knew Quinn that well or could judge his character based on the time I'd spent with him… I'd learned over the past few months that you couldn't really know someone that quickly, that learning a person's true character might take years. It had shaken me profoundly, since I'm used to knowing people very well, very quickly. I know them better than they ever suspect. But making mistakes about the character of a few supernaturals had caught me flatfooted, emotionally. Used to the quick assessment my telepathy made possible, I'd been naive and careless.

Now I was surrounded by such creatures.