“Some of them would whip me if they could. But that’s not how we witches roll.” Amelia tried to laugh, but it wasn’t convincing. “As a penalty, I’ve got to do, like, community service.”

“Like picking up litter or tutoring kids?”

“Well. mixing potions and making up bags of common ingredients so they’re ready to hand. Working extra hours in the magic store, and killing chickens for rituals every now and then. Doing a lot of legwork. Without pay.”

“That sucks,” I said, because money is almost always a touchy subject with me. Amelia had grown up rich, but I had not. If someone deprives me of income, I get pissed off. I had a fleeting moment of wondering how much Claudine’s bank account might have had in it, and I blessed her for thinking of me.

“Yeah, well, Katrina wiped the New Orleans covens out. We lost some members who’ll never come back, so we don’t get their contributions anymore, and I never use my dad’s money for the coven.”

“So, the bottom line?” I said.

“I’ve gotta stay down here. I don’t know if I’ll ever make it back to Bon Temps. And I’m really sorry about that, because I really liked living with you.”

“Same here.” I took a deep breath, determined not to sound forlorn. “What about your stuff? Not that there’s that much here, but still.”

“I’ll leave it there for now. I’ve got everything here I need, and the rest is yours to use as you see fit till I can make arrangements to get it.”

We talked a bit more, but we’d said everything important. I forgot to ask her if Octavia had found a way to dissolve Eric’s blood bond with me. Possibly I wasn’t very interested in an answer. I hung up, feeling both sad and glad: glad that Amelia was working off her debt to her coven and that she was happier than she’d been in Bon Temps after Tray’s death, and sad because I understood she didn’t expect to return. After a moment of silent farewell to her, I went to the kitchen to tell Claude that the upstairs was all his.