“Hi, Arlene,” I said, stepping out of my cover.

She shrieked and jumped. “Jesus Christ, Sookie, what are you doing in my backyard?” She made an elaborate fuss of collecting herself. Her head was a snarled tangle of anger and fear and guilt. And regret. There was some, I swear.

“I’ve been waiting to see you,” I said. I had no idea what to do now, but I’d slowed her down a little. I might have to physically tackle her. The men inside hadn’t noticed my abrupt appearance, but that wouldn’t last long unless I got extremely lucky. And I hadn’t had a run of luck, much less extreme luck, lately.

Arlene was standing still, keys in hand. It was easy to get inside her head and rummage around, reading the awful story in there.

“What you doing, getting ready to go, Arlene?” I asked, keeping my voice very quiet. “You’re supposed to be inside, waiting for me to get here.”

She saw everything, and her eyes closed. Guilty, guilty, guilty. She had tried to construct a bubble to keep the men’s intent hidden from herself, to keep it from touching her heart. That hadn’t worked—but it hadn’t stopped her treachery today, either. Arlene stood exposed to herself.

I said, “You got in too deep.” My own voice sounded detached and level. “No one will understand that or forgive it.” Her eyes went wide with the knowledge that what I was saying was true.

But I was in for my own kind of shock. I knew, suddenly and surely, that she had not killed Crystal and neither had these men; they’d planned to crucify me in emulation of Crystal’s death because it seemed like such a great idea, such an open statement of their opinion of the shapeshifters’ announcement. I’d been selected as the sacrificial lamb, despite the fact that they knew for sure I wasn’t a shapeshifter; in fact, they thought I wouldn’t put up as much of a fight since I was only a shapeshifter sympathizer, not one of the two-natured. I wouldn’t be as strong, in their opinion. I found this incredible.