Then Bill stood at my shoulder, staring at Eric’s mouth on my throat. His expression was complex: rage, resentment, longing.

I was ready for something simple, and I was ready for the pain to stop. My eyes met Bill’s.

“Sheriff,” Bill said. His voice had never been smoother. Eric twitched, and I knew he’d heard Bill, knew Eric realized he should stop. But he didn’t.

I shook myself free of the lethargy and self-loathing, grabbed hold of Eric’s earlobe, and pinched as hard as I could.

He detached with a gasp. His mouth was bloody.

“Bill’s gonna take me home,” I said. “We’ll talk tomorrow night. Maybe.”

Eric bent down to kiss me, but I flinched. Not with that bloody mouth.

“Tomorrow,” Eric said, his eyes searching my face. He turned away and called, “Listen up, people! We have to start cleaning the club.”

They groaned like kids told to pick up their toys. Immanuel went to Colton and helped him up. “You can stay at my place,” Immanuel said. “It’s not too far.”

“I won’t sleep,” Colton answered. “Audrina’s dead.”

“We’ll get through the night,” Immanuel told him.

The two human men left Fangtasia, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion and grief. I wondered how they felt about their vengeance now that it had been accomplished, but I knew I’d never ask them. I might never see them again.

Bill put his arm around me as I stumbled a little, and I found myself glad he was there to help me. I knew I couldn’t have driven myself. I found my purse, still with a couple of stakes inside, and I pulled my keys out of an inside pocket.

“Where did Bubba go?” I asked.

“He likes to go hang around the old Civic Auditorium,” Bill said. “He used to perform there. He’ll dig a hole, sleep in the ground.”

I nodded. I was too tired to say anything.

Bill didn’t speak again the whole way home, which was a blessing. I stared through the windshield into the black night, wondering how I’d feel tomorrow. That had been a lot of killing, and it had been so fast and bloody—like watching one of those violence-porn movies. I’d seen a few seconds of one of the Saw movies when I was at Jason’s house. That had been enough for me.

I fully believed that Victor had set this in motion with his own intransigence. If Felipe had put someone else in charge of Louisiana, the whole catastrophe wouldn’t have occurred. Maybe I could blame Felipe? No, the buck had to stop here.

“What are you thinking of?” Bill said as we were going down my driveway.

“I’m thinking about blame and guilt and assassination,” I said.

He simply nodded. “Me, too. Sookie, you know that Victor did his best to provoke Eric.”