God, how many names did they need? Mitchell knew reporters had a tendency to milk a good story to its last drop and show off their supposed cleverness, but one article had made him hope this would have been a smaller reporting affair. Clearly not. What had he been thinking?

"I said that 'cause I hadn't even heard of it," Mitchell shot back. Flimsy, but true. He had never heard it called anything back home. Only because no one had had a chance to report on it before Mitchell left for the island. The blood had still been on his hands. And his clothes. "Not until a couple months ago. There was an article in that paper. You know, the one with the notice of George's dad's death? I read about it there."

Was his voice tight? Was that tell-tale panic of weaseling out of a lie or could it be annoyance, confusion, the panic of an innocent who was running out of ways to prove his innocence? Didn't matter. His voice changed as he continued, darkening to a low rumble, his gaze fixing on Sookie, the hurt of a sore subject kicked at making him defensive and angry, a simmering, quiet thing. "And yeah, you know what happened to all the vampires in Bristol," he said. "Every single one of them innocently killed, and you're still gonna try and pin this on them?"