All Together Dead by Charlaine Harris Page A

this late in September. I wore a sleeveless white dress with red flowers on it, one I’d worn before when I had a date with Bill (whom I wouldn’t think about). Out of sheer vanity, I put on my high-heeled red sandals, though they were hardly practical footwear for a wedding on a roughly paved road. I put on some makeup while Quinn was showering, and I wasn’t displeased with my reflection. There’s nothing like great sex to give you a glow. I came out of my room and glanced at the clock. We needed to leave pretty quickly.
    Amelia was wearing a short-sleeved dress, beige with a tiny navy pattern. Amelia loved to buy clothes and considered herself a snappy dresser, but her taste was strictly suburban young matron. She wore little navy sandals with flowers on the straps, much more appropriate than my heels.
    Just when I was beginning to worry, Quinn came out of my room wearing a brown silk dress shirt and khakis.
    “What about a tie?” he asked. “I’ve got some in my bag.”
    I thought of the rural setting and vast lack of sophistication in the little community of Hotshot. “I don’t think a tie will be necessary,” I said, and Quinn looked relieved.
    We piled into my car and drove west and then south. On the drive, I had a chance to explain to my out-of-town guests about the isolated band of werepanthers and their small cluster of houses grouped together in rural Renard Parish. I was driving, since that was just simplest. Once out of sight of the old railroad tracks, the country became increasingly unpopulated until for two or three miles we saw no lights of any kind. Then we saw cars and lights at a crossroads ahead. We were there.
    Hotshot was out in the middle of nowhere, set in a long depression in the middle of gently rolling land, swells that were too ill-defined to be called hills. Formed around an ancient crossroads, the lonely community had a powerful vibration of magic. I could tell that Amelia was feeling that power. Her face became sharper and wiser as we got closer. Even Quinn inhaled deeply. As for me, I could detect the presence of magic, but it didn’t affect non-supernatural me.
    I pulled over to the side of the road behind Hoyt Fortenberry’s truck. Hoyt was Jason’s best friend and lifelong shadow. I spied him right ahead of us, trudging down the road to a well-lit area. I’d handed Amelia and Quinn a flashlight, and I kept one aimed at my feet.
    “Hoyt,” I called. I hurried to catch up with him, at least as much as was practical in the red heels. “Hey, are you okay?” I asked when I saw his downcast face. Hoyt was not a very good-looking guy, or very bright, but he was steady and tended to see past the moment to its consequences, something my brother had never mastered.
    “Sook,” Hoyt said. “I can’t believe he’s getting hitched. I guess I thought me and Jason would be bachelors forever.” He attempted to smile.
    I gave him a pat on the shoulder. Life would’ve been neat ’n’ tidy if I could have fallen in love with Hoyt, thus attaching him to my brother forever, but Hoyt and I had never had the slightest interest in each other.
    Hoyt’s mind was radiating a dull misery. He was certain that his life was changing forever this night. He expected Jason to mend his ways completely, to stay in with his wife like a husband should, and to forsake all others.
    I sure hoped Hoyt’s expectations were right on the money.
    On the edges of the crowd, Hoyt met up with Catfish Hennessy, and they began making loud jokes about Jason’s breaking down and marrying.
    I hoped the male bonding would help Hoyt get through the ceremony. I didn’t know if Crystal truly loved my brother—but Hoyt did.
    Quinn took my hand, and with Amelia in our wake we forged through the little crowd until we reached the center.
    Jason was wearing a new suit, and the blue of it was only a bit darker than the blue of his eyes. He looked great, and he was smiling to beat the band. Crystal was wearing a