in the bar looked alarmed and upset. Half of them were fascinated with the drama. That left a quarter on the fence. Sam whined like a sad dog and put his nose between his paws. After that got a big laugh, the discomfort of the moment passed. I watched Whit and his buddy ease out the front door, and I relaxed when they were gone.
Just on the off chance Whit might be fetching a rifle from his truck, I glanced over at Bill, who glided out the door after him. In a moment he was back, nodding at me to indicate the FotS guys had driven away.
Once the back door thunked closed behind Arlene, the rest of the evening went pretty well. Sam and Tray retired to Sam’s office to change back and get dressed. Sam returned to his place behind the bar afterward as if nothing had happened, and Tray went to sit at the table with Amelia, who kissed him. For a while, people steered a little clear of them, and there were lots of surreptitious glances; but after an hour, the atmosphere of Merlotte’s seemed just about back to normal. I pitched in to serve Arlene’s tables, and I made sure to be especially nice to the people still undecided about the night’s events.
People seemed to drink heartily that night. Maybe they had misgivings about Sam’s other persona, but they didn’t have any problem adding to his profits. Bill caught my eye and raised his hand in good-bye. He and Clancy drifted out of the bar.
Jason tried to get my attention once or twice, and his buddy Mel sent big smiles my way. Mel was taller and thinner than my brother, but they both had that bright, eager look of unthinking men who operate on their instincts. In his favor, Mel didn’t seem to agree with everything Jason said, not the way Hoyt always had. Mel seemed to be an okay guy, at least from our brief acquaintance; that he was one of the few werepanthers who didn’t live in Hotshot was also a fact in his favor, and it may even have been why he and Jason were such big buddies. They were like other werepanthers, but separate, too.
If I ever began speaking to Jason again, I had a question for him. On this major evening for all Weres and shifters, how come he hadn’t taken the chance to grab a little of the spotlight for himself? Jason was very full of his altered status as a werepanther. He’d been bitten, not born. That is, he’d contracted the virus (or whatever it was) by being bitten by another werepanther, rather than being born with the ability to change as Mel had been. Jason’s changed form was manlike, with hair all over and a pantherish face and claws: really scary, he’d told me. But he wasn’t a beautiful animal, and that griped my brother. Mel was a purebred, and he would be gorgeous and frightening when he transformed.
Maybe the werepanthers had been asked to lie low because panthers were simply too scary. If something as big and lethal as a panther had appeared in the bar, the reaction of the patrons almost certainly would have been a lot more hysterical. Though wereanimal brains are very difficult to read, I could sense the disappointment the two panthers were sharing. I was sure the decision had been Calvin Norris’s, as the panther leader. Good move, Calvin, I thought.
After I’d helped close down the bar, I gave Sam a hug when I stopped by his office to pick up my purse. He was looking tired but happy.
“You feeling as good as you look?” I asked.
“Yep. My true nature’s out in the open now. It’s liberating. My mom swore she was going to tell my stepdad tonight. I’m waiting to hear from her.”
Right on cue, the phone rang. Sam picked it up, still smiling. “Mom?” he said. Then his face changed as if a hand had wiped off the previous expression. “Don? What have you done?”
I sank into the chair by the desk and waited. Tray had come to have a last word with Sam, and Amelia was with him. They both stood stiffly in the doorway, anxious to hear what had happened.
“Oh, my God,” Sam said. “I’ll come as soon as I can. I’ll get on the road tonight.” He hung up the phone very gently. “Don shot my mom,” he said. “When she changed, he shot her.” I’d never