tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38494037227218625582011-07-28T22:01:41.075-07:00Homework.geeknoreply@blogger.comBlogger191100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3849403722721862558.post-26991242437670130122009-08-19T21:41:00.001-07:002009-08-19T21:41:31.727-07:00<object width="410" height="341" id="veohFlashPlayer" name="veohFlashPlayer"><param name="movie" value="http://www.veoh.com/static/swf/webplayer/WebPlayer.swf?version=AFrontend.5.4.2.23.1011&permalinkId=v18572812q2HAbmg6&player=videodetailsembedded&videoAutoPlay=0&id=anonymous"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.veoh.com/static/swf/webplayer/WebPlayer.swf?version=AFrontend.5.4.2.23.1011&permalinkId=v18572812q2HAbmg6&player=videodetailsembedded&videoAutoPlay=0&id=anonymous" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="410" height="341" id="veohFlashPlayerEmbed" name="veohFlashPlayerEmbed"></embed></object><br /><font size="1">Watch <a href="http://www.veoh.com/browse/videos/category/sports/watch/v18572812q2HAbmg6">Prince of Tennis 1 (subbed)</a> in <a href="http://www.veoh.com/browse/videos/category/sports">Sports</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;|&nbsp;&nbsp;View More <a href="http://www.veoh.com">Free Videos Online at Veoh.com</a></font><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3849403722721862558-2699124243767013012?l=khannh1995.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Homework.geeknoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3849403722721862558.post-20224498921582650902009-08-14T05:15:00.000-07:002009-08-14T05:16:26.446-07:00Charlaine Harris<br />Dead until Dark<br />Scanned by Ginevra September 29th2002<br />If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It<br />was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has<br />received any payment for this "stripped book."<br />This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's<br />imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business<br />establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.<br />DEAD UNTIL DARK An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author<br />PRINTING HISTORY<br />Ace mass-market edition / May 2001<br />All rights reserved.<br />Copyright © 2001 by Charlaine Harris Schulz Cover art by Lisa Desimini<br />This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. For information<br />address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New<br />York, New York 10014.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is http://www.penguinputnam.com<br />Check out the Ace Science Fiction & Fantasy newsletter and much more on the Internet at Club PPI!<br />ISBN: 0-441-00853-4<br />ACE® Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,<br />a division of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.<br />ACE and the "A" design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.<br />PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA<br />10 987654321<br />My thanks and appreciation go to the people who thought this book<br />was a good idea—Dean James, Toni L. P. Kelner<br />and Gary and Susan Nowlin<br />Chapter 1<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />i'd beenWAITING for the vampire for years when he walked into the bar.<br />Ever since vampires came out of the coffin (as they laughingly<br />put it) four years ago, I'd hoped one<br />would come to Bon Temps. We had all the other minorities in our little town—why not the newest, the<br />legally recognized undead? But rural northern Louisiana wasn't too tempting to vampires,<br />apparently; on<br />the other hand, New Orleans was a real center for them—the whole Anne Rice thing, right?<br />It's not that long a drive from Bon Temps to New Orleans, and everyone who came into the bar said<br />that if you threw a rock on a street comer you'd hit one. Though you better not.<br />But I was waiting for my own vampire.<br />You can tell I don't get out much. And it's not because I'm not pretty. I am. I'm blond and blue-eyed and<br />twenty-five, and my legs are strong and my bosom is substantial, and I have a waspy waistline. I look<br />good in the warm-weather waitress outfit Sam picked for us: black shorts, white T, white socks, black<br />Nikes.<br />But I have a disability. That's how I try to think of it.<br />The bar patrons just say I'm crazy.<br />Either way, the result is that I almost never have a date. So little treats count a lot with me.<br />And he sat at one of my tables—the vampire.<br />I knew immediately what he was. It amazed me when no one else turned around to stare. They couldn't<br />tell! But to me, his skin had a little glow, and I just knew.<br />I could have danced with joy, and in fact I did do a little step right there by the bar. Sam Merlotte, my<br />boss, looked up from the drink he was mixing and gave me a tiny smile. I grabbed my tray and pad and<br />went over to the vampire's table. I hoped that my lipstick was still even and my ponytail was still neat. I'm<br />kind of tense, and I could feel my smile yanking the corners of my mouth up.<br />He seemed lost in thought, and I had a chance to give him a good once-over before he looked up. He<br />was a little under six feet, I estimated. He had thick brown hair, combed straight back and brushing his<br />collar, and his long sideburns seemed curiously old-fashioned. He was pale, of course; hey, he was dead,<br />if you believed the old tales. The politically correct theory, the one the vamps themselves publicly<br />backed, had it that this guy was the victim of a virus that left him apparently dead for a couple of days<br />and thereafter allergic<br />to sunlight, silver, and garlic. The details depended on which newspaper you read.<br />They were all full of vampire stuff these days.<br />Anyway, his lips were lovely, sharply sculpted, and he had arched dark brows. His nose swooped down<br />right out of that arch, like a prince's in a Byzantine mosaic. When he finally looked up, I saw his eyes<br />were even darker than his hair, and the whites were incredibly white.<br />"What can I get you?" I asked, happy almost beyond words.<br />He raised his eyebrows. "Do you have the bottled synthetic blood?" he asked.<br />"No, I'm so sorry! Sam's got some on order. Should be in next week."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Then red wine, please," he said, and his voice was cool and clear, like a stream over smooth stones. I<br />laughed out loud. It was too perfect.<br />"Don't mind, Sookie, mister, she's crazy," came a familiarvoice from the booth against the wall. All my<br />happiness deflated,<br />though I could feel the smile still straining my lips. The vampire was staring at me,<br />watching the life go out of my face.<br />"I'll get your wine right away," I said, and strode off, not even looking at Mack Rattray's smug face. He<br />was there almost every night, he and his wife Denise. I called them the Rat Couple. They'd done their<br />best to make me miserable since they'd moved into the rent trailer at Four Tracks Corner.<br />I had hoped<br />that they'd blow out of Bon Temps as suddenly<br />as they'd blown in.<br />When they'd first come into Merlotte's, I'd very rudely listened in to their thoughts—I know, pretty<br />low-class of me. But I get bored like everyone else, and though I spend most of my time blocking out the<br />thoughts of other people that try to pass through my brain, sometimes I just give in. So I knew some<br />things about the Rattrays that maybe no one else did. For one thing, I knew they'd been in jail, though I<br />didn't know why. For another, I'd read the nasty thoughts Mack Rattray had entertained about yours<br />truly. And then I'd heard in Denise's thoughts that she'd abandoned a baby she'd had two years before, a<br />baby that wasn't Mack's.<br />And they didn't tip, either.<br />Sam poured a glass of the house red wine, looking over at the vampire's table as he put it on my tray.<br />When Sam looked back at me, I could tell he too knew our new customer was undead. Sam's eyes are<br />Paul Newman blue, as opposed to my own hazy blue gray. Sam is blond, too, but his hair is wiry and his<br />blond is almost a sort of hot red gold. He is always a little sunburned, and though he looks slight in his<br />clothes, I have seen him unload trucks with his shirt off, and he has plenty of upper body strength. I never<br />listen to Sam's thoughts. He's my boss. I've had to quit jobs before because I found out things I didn't<br />want to know about my boss.<br />But Sam didn't comment, he just gave me the wine. I checked the glass to make sure it was sparkly<br />clean and made my way back to the vampire's table.<br />"Your wine, sir," I said ceremoniously and placed it carefully<br />on the table exactly in front of him. He<br />looked at me again, and I stared into his lovely eyes while I had the chance. "Enjoy," I said proudly.<br />Behind me, Mack Rattray yelled, "Hey, Sookie! We need another pitcher of beer here!" I sighed and<br />turned to take the empty pitcher from the Rats' table. Denise was in fine form tonight, I noticed, wearing<br />a halter top and short shorts, her mess of brown hair floofing around her head in fashionable tangles.<br />Denise wasn't truly pretty, but she was so flashy and confident that it took awhile to figure that out.<br />A little while later, to my dismay, I saw the Rattrays had moved over to the vampire's table. They were<br />talking at him. I couldn't see that he was responding a lot, but he wasn't leaving either.<br />"Look at that!" I said disgustedly to Arlene, my fellow waitress. Arlene is redheaded and freckled and<br />ten years older than me, and she's been married four times. She has two kids, and from time to time, I<br />think she considers me her third.<br />"New guy, huh?" she said with small interest. Arlene is currently dating Rene Lenier, and though I can't<br />see the attraction,<br />she seems pretty satisfied. I think Rene was her second<br />husband.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Oh, he's a vampire," I said, just having to share my delight with someone.<br />"Really? Here? Well, just think," she said, smiling a little to show she appreciated my pleasure. "He can't<br />be too bright, though, honey, if he's with the Rats. On the other hand, Denise is giving him quite a show."<br />I figured it out after Arlene made it plain to me; she's much better at sizing up sexual situations than I am<br />due to her experience and my lack.<br />The vampire was hungry. I'd always heard that the synthetic<br />blood the Japanese had developed kept<br />vampires up to par as far as nutrition, but didn't really satisfy their hunger, which was why there were<br />"Unfortunate Incidents" from time to time. (That was the vampire euphemism for the bloody slaying of a<br />human.) And here was Denise Rattray, stroking her throat, turning her neck from side to side... what a<br />bitch.<br />My brother, Jason, came into the bar, then, and saunteredover to give me a hug. He knows that women<br />like a man who's good to his family and also kind to the disabled, so hugging me is a double whammy of<br />recommendation. Not that Jason needs many more points than he has just by being himself. He's<br />handsome. He can sure be mean, too, but most women seem quite willing to overlook that.<br />"Hey, sis, how's Gran?"<br />"She's okay, about the same. Come by to see."<br />"I will. Who's loose tonight?"<br />"Look for yourself." I noticed that when Jason began to glance around there was a flutter of female<br />hands to hair, blouses, lips.<br />"Hey. I see DeeAnne. She free?"<br />"She's here with a trucker from Hammond. He's in the bathroom. Watch it."<br />Jason grinned at me, and I marvelled that other women could not see the selfishness of that smile. Even<br />Arlene tucked in her T-shirt when Jason came in, and after four husbands she should have known a little<br />about evaluating men. The other waitress I worked with, Dawn, tossed her hair and straightened her<br />back to make her boobs stand out. Jason gave her an amiable wave. She pretended to sneer. She's on<br />the outs with Jason, but she still wants him to notice her.<br />I got really busy—everyone came to Merlotte's on Saturday<br />night for some portion of the evening—so<br />I lost track of my vampire for a while. When I next had a moment to check on him, he was talking to<br />Denise. Mack was looking at him with an expression so avid that I became worried.<br />I went closer to the table, staring at Mack. Finally, I let down my guard and listened.<br />Mack and Denise had been in jail for vampire draining.<br />Deeply upset, I nevertheless automatically carried a pitcher of beer and some glasses to a raucous table<br />of four. Since vampire blood was supposed to temporarily relieve symptoms<br />of illness and increase<br />sexual potency, kind of like pred-nisone and Viagra rolled into one, there was a huge black market for<br />genuine, undiluted vampire blood. Where there's a market there are suppliers; in this case, I'd just<br />learned, the scummy Rat Couple. They'd formerly trapped vampires anddrained them, selling the little<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />vials of blood for as much as $200 apiece. It had been the drug of choice for at least two years now.<br />Some buyers went crazy after drinking pure vampire<br />blood, but that didn't slow the market any.<br />The drained vampire didn't last long, as a rule. The drainers<br />left the vampires staked or simply dumped<br />them out in the open. When the sun came up, that was all she wrote. From time to time, you read about<br />the tables being turned when the vampire managed to get free. Then you got your dead drainers.<br />Now my vampire was getting up and leaving with the Rats. Mack met my eyes, and I saw him looking<br />distinctly startled at the expression on my face. He turned away, shrugging me off like everyone else.<br />That made me mad. Really mad.<br />What should I do? While I struggled with myself, they were out the door. Would the vampire believe me<br />if I ran after them, told him? No one else did. Or if by chance they did, they hated and feared me for<br />reading the thoughts concealed<br />in people's brains. Arlene had begged me to read her fourth husband's<br />mind when he'd come in to pick her up one night because she was pretty certain he was thinking of<br />leaving her and the kids, but I wouldn't because I wanted to keep the one friend I had. And even Arlene<br />hadn't been able to ask me directly because that would be admitting I had this gift, this curse. People<br />couldn't admit it. They had to think I was crazy. Which sometimes I almost was!<br />So I dithered, confused and frightened and angry, and then I knew I just had to act. I was goaded by the<br />look Mack had given me—as if I was negligible.<br />I slid down the bar to Jason, where he was sweeping DeeAnne off her feet. She didn't take much<br />sweeping, popular<br />opinion had it. The trucker from Hammond was glowering<br />from her other side.<br />"Jason," I said urgently. He turned to give me a warning glare. "Listen, is that chain still in the back of the<br />pickup?"<br />"Never leave home without it," he said lazily, his eyes scanning my face for signs of trouble. "You going<br />to fight, Sookie?"<br />I smiled at him, so used to grinning that it was easy. "I sure hope not," I said cheerfully.<br />"Hey, you need help?" After all, he was my brother.<br />"No, thanks," I said, trying to sound reassuring. And I slipped over to Arlene. "Listen, I got to leave a<br />little early. My tables are pretty thin, can you cover for me?" I didn't think I'd ever asked Arlene such a<br />thing, though I'd covered for her many times. She, too, offered me help. "That's okay," I said. "I'll be<br />back in if I can. If you clean my area, I'll do your trailer."<br />Arlene nodded her red mane enthusiastically.<br />I pointed to the employee door, to myself, and made my fingers walk, to tell Sam where I was going.<br />He nodded. He didn't look happy.<br />So out the back door I went, trying to make my feet quiet on the gravel. The employee parking lot is at<br />the rear of the bar, through a door leading into the storeroom. The cook's car was there, and Arlene's,<br />Dawn's, and mine. To my right, the east, Sam's pickup was sitting in front of his trailer.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />I went out of the gravelled employee parking area onto the blacktop that surfaced the much larger<br />customer lot to the west of the bar. Woods surrounded the clearing in which Merlotte's stood, and the<br />edges of the parking lot were mostly gravel. Sam kept it well lit, and the surrealistic glare of the high,<br />parking lot lights made everything look strange.<br />I saw the Rat Couple's dented red sports car, so I knew they were close.<br />I found Jason's truck at last. It was black with custom aqua and pink swirls on the sides. He sure did<br />love to be noticed. I pulled myself up by the tailgate and rummaged around in the bed for his chain, a<br />thick length of links that he carried in case of a fight. I looped it and carried it pressed to my body so it<br />wouldn't chink.<br />I thought a second. The only halfway private spot to which the Rattrays could have lured the vampire<br />was the end of the parking lot where the trees actually overhung the cars. So I crept in that direction,<br />trying to move fast and low.<br />I paused every few seconds and listened. Soon I heard a groan and the faint sounds of voices. I snaked<br />between the cars, and I spotted them right where I'd figured they'd be.<br />The vampire was down on the ground on his back, his face contorted in agony, and the gleam of chains<br />crisscrossed his wrists and ran down to his ankles. Silver. There were two little vials of blood already on<br />the ground beside Denise's feet, and as I watched, she fixed a new Vacutainer to the needle. The<br />tourniquet above his elbow dug cruelly into his arm.<br />Their backs were to me, and the vampire hadn't seen me yet I loosened the coiled chain so a good three<br />feet of it swung free. Who to attack first? They were both small and vicious.<br />I remembered Mack's contemptuous dismissal and the fact that he never left me a tip. Mack first.<br />I'd never actually been in a fight before. Somehow I was positively looking forward to it.<br />I leapt out from behind a pickup and swung the chain. It thwacked across Mack's back as he knelt<br />beside his victim. He screamed and jumped up. After a glance, Denise set about getting the third<br />Vacutainer plugged. Mack's hand dipped down to his boot and came up shining. I gulped. He had a<br />knife in his hand.<br />"Uh-oh," I said, and grinned at him.<br />"You crazy bitch!" he screamed. He sounded like he was looking forward to using the knife. I was too<br />involved to keep my mental guard up, and I had a clear flash of what Mack wanted to do to me. It drove<br />me really crazy. I went for him with every intention of hurting him as badly as I could. But he was ready<br />for me and jumped forward with the knife while I was swinging the chain. He sliced at my arm and just<br />missed it. The chain, on its recoil, wrapped around his skinny neck like a lover. Mack's yell of triumph<br />turned into a gurgle. He dropped the knife and clawed at the links with both hands. Losing air, he<br />dropped to his knees on the rough pavement, yanking the chain from my hand.<br />Well, there went Jason's chain. I swooped down and scooped up Mack's knife, holding it like I knew<br />how to use it. Denise had been lunging forward, looking like a redneck witch in the lines and shadows of<br />the security lights.<br />She stopped in her tracks when she saw I had Mack'sknife. She cursed and railed and said terrible<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />things. I waited till she'd run down to say, "Get. Out. Now."<br />Denise stared holes of hate in my head. She tried to scoop up the vials of blood, but I hissed at her to<br />leave them alone. So she pulled Mack to his feet. He was still making choking, gurgling sounds and<br />holding the chain. Denise kind of dragged him along to their car and shoved him in through the<br />passenger's side. Yanking some keys from her pocket, Denise threw herself in the driver's seat.<br />As I heard the engine roar into life, suddenly I realized that the Rats now had another weapon. Faster<br />than I've ever moved, I ran to the vampire's head and panted, "Push with your feet!" I grabbed him under<br />the arms and yanked back with all my might, and he caught on and braced his feet and shoved. We were<br />just inside the tree line when the red car came roaring down at us. Denise missed us by less than a yard<br />when she had to swerve to avoid hitting a pine. Then I heard the big motor of the Rats' car receding in<br />the distance.<br />"Oh, wow," I breathed, and knelt by the vampire because my knees wouldn't hold me up any more. I<br />breathed heavily for just a minute, trying to get hold of myself. The vampire moved a little, and I looked<br />over. To my horror, I saw wisps of smoke coming up from his wrists where the silver touched them.<br />"Oh, you poor thing," I said, angry at myself for not caring for him instantly. Still trying to catch my<br />breath, I began to unwind the thin bands of silver, which all seemed to be part of one very long chain.<br />"Poor baby," I whispered, never thinking until later how incongruous that sounded. I have agile fingers,<br />and I released his wrists pretty quickly. I wondered<br />how the Rats had distracted him while they got into<br />position to put them on, and I could feel myself reddening as I pictured it.<br />The vampire cradled his arms to his chest while I worked on the silver wrapped around his legs. His<br />ankles had fared better since the drainers hadn't troubled to pull up his jeans legs and put the silver<br />against his bare skin.<br />"I'm sorry I didn't get here faster," I said apologetically. "You'll feel better in a minute, right? Do you<br />want me to leave?"<br />That made me feel pretty good until he added, "They might come back, and I can't fight yet." His cool<br />voice was uneven, but I couldn't exactly say I'd heard him panting.<br />I made a sour face at him, and while he was recovering, I took a few precautions. I sat with my back to<br />him, giving him some privacy. I know how unpleasant it is to be stared at when you're hurting. I hunkered<br />down on the pavement, keeping watch on the parking lot. Several cars left, and others came in, but none<br />came down to our end by the woods. By the movement of the air around me, I knew when the vampire<br />had sat up.<br />He didn't speak right away. I turned my head to the left to look at him. He was closer than I'd thought.<br />His big dark eyes looked into mine. His fangs had retracted; I was a little disappointed about that.<br />"Thank you," he said stiffly.<br />So he wasn't thrilled about being rescued by a woman. Typical guy.<br />Since he was being so ungracious, I felt I could do something<br />rude, too, and I listened to him, opening<br />my mind completely.<br />And I heard ... nothing.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Oh," I said, hearing the shock in my own voice, hardly knowing what I was saying. "Ican't hear you."<br />"Thank you!" the vampire said, moving his lips exaggeratedly.<br />"No, no ... I can hear you speak, but..." and in my excitement,<br />I did something I ordinarily would never<br />do, because<br />it was pushy, and personal, and revealed I was disabled. I turned fully to him and put my<br />hands on both sides of his white face, and I looked at him intently. I focused with all my energy.Nothing.<br />It was like having to listen to the radio all the time, to stations you didn't get to select, and then suddenly<br />tuning in to a wavelength you couldn't receive.<br />It was heaven.<br />His eyes were getting wider and darker, though he was holding absolutely still.<br />"Oh, excuse me," I said with a gasp of embarrassment. I snatched my hands away and resumed staring<br />at the parkinglot. I began babbling about Mack and Denise, all the time thinking how marvelous it would<br />be to have a companion I could not hear unless he chose to speak out loud. How beautiful<br />his silence<br />was.<br />"... so I figured I better come out here to see how you were," I concluded, and had no idea what I'd<br />been saying.<br />"You came out here to rescue me. It was brave," he said in a voice so seductive it would have shivered<br />DeeAnne right out of her red nylon panties.<br />"Now you cut that out," I said tartly, coming right down to earth with a thud.<br />He looked astonished for a whole second before his face returned to its white smoothness.<br />"Aren't you afraid to be alone with a hungry vampire?" he asked, something arch and yet dangerous<br />running beneath the words.<br />"Nope."<br />"Are you assuming that since you came to my rescue that you're safe, that I harbor an ounce of<br />sentimental feeling after all these years? Vampires often turn on those who trust them. We don't have<br />human values, you know."<br />"A lot of humans turn on those who trust them," I pointed out. I can be practical. "I'm not a total fool." I<br />held out my arm and turned my neck. While he'd been recovering, I'd been wrapping the Rats' chains<br />around my neck and arms.<br />He shivered visibly.<br />"But there's a juicy artery in your groin," he said after a pause to regroup, his voice as slithery as a snake<br />on a slide.<br />"Don't you talk dirty," I told him. "I won't listen to that."<br />Once again we looked at each other in silence. I was afraid I'd never see him again; after all, his first visit<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />to Merlotte's hadn't exactly been a success. So I was trying to absorb every detail I could; I would<br />treasure this encounter and rehash<br />it for a long, long time. It was rare, a prize. I wanted to touch his skin<br />again. I couldn't remember how it felt. But that would be going beyond some boundary of manners, and<br />also maybe start him going on the seductive crap again.<br />"Would you like to drink the blood they collected?" he asked unexpectedly. "It would be a way for me<br />to show my gratitude." He gestured at the stoppered vials lying on theblacktop. "My blood is supposed<br />to improve your sex life and your health."<br />"I'm healthy as a horse," I told him honestly. "And I have no sex life to speak of. You do what you want<br />with it."<br />"You could sell it," he suggested, but I thought he was just waiting to see what I'd say about that.<br />"I wouldn't touch it," I said, insulted.<br />"You're different," he said. "What are you?" He seemed to be going through a list of possibilities in his<br />head from the way he was looking at me. To my pleasure, I could not hear a one of them.<br />"Well. I'm Sookie Stackhouse, and I'm a waitress," I told him. "What's your name?" I thought I could at<br />least ask that without being presuming.<br />"Bill," he said.<br />Before I could stop myself, I rocked back onto my butt with laughter. "The vampire Bill!" I said. "I<br />thought it might be Antoine, or Basil, or Langford! Bill!" I hadn't laughed so hard in a long time. "Well,<br />see ya, Bill. I got to get back to work." I could feel the tense grin snap back into place when I thought of<br />Merlotte's. I put my hand on Bill's shoulder and pushed up. It was rock hard, and I was on my feet so<br />fast I had to stop myself from stumbling. I examined my socks to make sure their cuffs were exactly even,<br />and I looked up and down my outfit to check for wear and tear during the fight with the Rats. I dusted off<br />my bottom since I'd been sitting on the dirty pavement and gave Bill a wave as I started off across the<br />parking lot.<br />It had been a stimulating evening, one with a lot of food for thought. I felt almost as cheerful as my smile<br />when I considered it.<br />But Jason was going to be mighty angry about the chain.<br />after work thatnight, I drove home, which is only about four miles south from the bar. Jason had been<br />gone (and so had DeeAnne) when I got back to work, and that had been another good thing. I was<br />reviewing the evening as I drove to my grandmother's house, where I lived. It's right before Tall Pines<br />cemetery, which lies off a narrow two-lane parish road. My great-great-great grandfather had started the<br />house, and he'd had ideas about privacy, so to reach it you had to turn off the parish road into the<br />driveway, go through some woods, and then you arrived at the clearing in which the house stood.<br />It's sure not any historic landmark, since most of the oldest parts have been ripped down and replaced<br />over the years, and of course it's got electricity and plumbing and insulation, all that good modern stuff.<br />But it still has a tin roof that gleams blindingly on sunny days. When the roof needed to be replaced, I<br />wanted to put regular roofing tiles on it, but my grandmother said no. Though I was paying, it's her house;<br />so naturally, tin it was.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Historical or not, I'd lived in this house since I was about seven, and I'd visited it often before then, so I<br />loved it. It was just a big old family home, too big for Granny and me, I guess. It had a broad front<br />covered by a screened-in porch, and it was painted white, Granny being a traditionalist all the way. I<br />went through the big living room, strewn with battered furniture arranged to suit us, and down the hall to<br />the first bedroom on the left, the biggest.<br />Adele Hale Stackhouse, my grandmother, was propped up in her high bed, about a million pillows<br />padding her skinny shoulders. She was wearing a long-sleeved cotton nightgown even in the warmth of<br />this spring night, and her bedside lamp was still on. There was a book propped in her lap.<br />"Hey," I said.<br />"Hi, honey."<br />My grandmother is very small and very old, but her hair is still thick, and so white it almost has the very<br />faintest of green tinges. She wears it kind of rolled against her neck during the day, but at night it's loose<br />or braided. I looked at the cover of her book.<br />"You reading Danielle Steele again?"<br />"Oh, that woman can sure tell a story." My grandmother's great pleasures were reading Danielle Steele,<br />watching her soap operas (which she called her "stories") and attending meetings of the myriad clubs<br />she'd belonged to all her adult life, it seemed. Her favorites were the Descendants of the Glorious Dead<br />and the Bon Temps Gardening Society.<br />"Guess what happened tonight?" I asked her.<br />"What? You got a date?"<br />"No," I said, working to keep a smile on my face. "A vampire came into the bar."<br />"Ooh, did he have fangs?"<br />I'd seen them glisten in the parking lot lights when the Rats were draining him, but there was no need to<br />describe that to Gran. "Sure, but they were retracted."<br />"A vampire right here in Bon Temps." Granny was as pleased as punch. "Did he bite anybody in the<br />bar?"<br />"Oh, no, Gran! He just sat and had a glass of red wine. Well, he ordered it, but he didn't drink it. I think<br />he just wanted some company."<br />"Wonder where he stays."<br />"He wouldn't be too likely to tell anyone that."<br />"No," Gran said, thinking about it a moment. "I guess not. Did you like him?"<br />Now that was kind of a hard question. I mulled it over. "I don't know. He was real interesting," I said<br />cautiously.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"I'd surely love to meet him." I wasn't surprised Gran said this because she enjoyed new things almost as<br />much as I did. She wasn't one of those reactionaries who'd decided vampires<br />were damned right off the<br />bat. "But I better go to sleep now. I was just waiting for you to come home before I turned out my light."<br />I bent over to give Gran a kiss, and said, "Night night."<br />I half-closed her door on my way out and heard the click of the lamp as she turned it off. My cat, Tina,<br />came from wherever she'd been sleeping to rub against my legs, and I picked her up and cuddled her for<br />a while before putting her out for the night. I glanced at the clock. It was almost two o'clock, and my bed<br />was calling me.<br />My room was right across the hall from Gran's. When I first used this room, after my folks had died,<br />Gran had moved my bedroom furniture from their house so I'd feel more homey. And here it was still, the<br />single bed and vanity in white-painted wood, the small chest of drawers.<br />I turned on my own light and shut the door and began taking off my clothes. I had at least five pair of<br />black shorts and many, many white T-shirts, since those tended to getstained so easily. No telling how<br />many pairs of white socks were rolled up in my drawer. So I didn't have to do the wash tonight. I was<br />too tired for a shower. I did brush my teeth and wash the makeup off my face, slap on some moisturizer,<br />and take the band out of my hair.<br />I crawled into bed in my favorite Mickey Mouse sleep T-shirt, which came almost to my knees. I turned<br />on my side, like I always do, and I relished the silence of the room. Almost<br />everyone's brain is turned off<br />in the wee hours of the night, and the vibrations are gone, the intrusions do not have to be repelled. With<br />such peace, I only had time to think of the vampire's dark eyes, and then I fell into the deep sleep of<br />exhaustion.<br />BYLUNCHTIME THE next day I was in my folding aluminum<br />chaise out in the front yard, getting<br />browner by the second. I was in my favorite white strapless two-piece, and it was a little roomier than<br />last summer, so I was pleased as punch.<br />Then I heard a vehicle coming down the drive, and Jason's black truck with its pink and aqua blazons<br />pulled up to within a yard of my feet.<br />Jason climbed down—did I mention the truck sports those high tires?—to stalk toward me. He was<br />wearing his usual work clothes, a khaki shirt and pants, and he had his sheathed knife clipped to his belt,<br />like most of the county road workers did. Just by the way he walked, I knew he was in a huff.<br />I put my dark glasses on.<br />"Why didn't you tell me you beat up the Rattrays last night?" My brother threw himself into the aluminum<br />yard chair by my chaise. "Where's Gran?" he asked belatedly.<br />"Hanging out the laundry," I said. Gran used the dryer in a pinch, but she really liked hanging the wet<br />clothes out in the sun. Of course the clothesline was in the backyard, where clotheslines should be. "She's<br />fixing country-fried steak and sweet potatoes and green beans she put up last year, for lunch," I added,<br />knowing that would distract Jason a little bit. I hoped Gran stayed out back. I didn't want her to hear this<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />conversation. "Keep your voice low," I reminded him.<br />"Rene Lenier couldn't wait till I got to work this morning to tell me all about it. He was over to the<br />Rattrays' trailer last night to buy him some weed, and Denise drove up like she wanted to kill someone.<br />Rene said he liked to have gotten killed, she was so mad. It took both Rene and Denise to get Mack into<br />the trailer, and then they took him to the hospital in Monroe." Jason glared at me accusingly.<br />"Did Rene tell you that Mack came after me with a knife?" I asked, deciding attacking was the best way<br />of handling this. I could tell Jason's pique was due in large part to the fact that he had heard about this<br />from someone else.<br />"If Denise told Rene, he didn't mention it to me," Jason said slowly, and I saw his handsome face darken<br />with rage. "He came after you with a knife?"<br />"So I had to defend myself," I said, as if it were matter-of-fact. "And he took your chain." This was all<br />true, if a little skewed.<br />"I came in to tell you," I continued, "but by the time I got back in the bar, you were gone with DeeAnne,<br />and since I was fine, it just didn't seem worth tracking you down. I knew you'd feel obliged to go after<br />him if I told you about the knife," I added diplomatically. There was a lot more truth in that, since Jason<br />dearly loves a fight.<br />"What the hell were you doing out there anyway?" he asked, but he had relaxed, and I knew he was<br />accepting this.<br />"Did you know that, in addition to selling drugs, the Rats are vampire drainers?"<br />Now he was fascinated. "No... so?"<br />"Well, one of my customers last night was a vampire, and they were draining him out in Merlotte's<br />parking lot! I couldn't have that."<br />"There's a vampire here in Bon Temps?"<br />"Yep. Even if you don't want a vampire for your best friend, you can't let trash like the Rats drain them.<br />It's not like siphoning gas out of a car. And they would have left him out in the woods to die." Though the<br />Rats hadn't told me their intentions, that was my bet. Even if they'd put him under cover so he could<br />survive the day, a drained vampire took at least twenty years to recover, at least that's what onehad said<br />onOprah. And that's if another vampire took care of him.<br />"The vampire was in the bar when I was there?" Jason asked, dazzled.<br />"Uh-huh. The dark-haired guy sitting with the Rats."<br />Jason grinned at my epithet for the Rattrays. But he hadn't let go of the night before, yet. "How'd you<br />know he was a vampire?" he asked, but when he looked at me, I could tell he was wishing he had bitten<br />his tongue.<br />"I just knew," I said in my flattest voice.<br />"Right." And we shared a whole unspoken conversation.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Homulka doesn't have a vampire," Jason said thoughtfully.<br />He tilted his face back to catch the sun, and<br />I knew we were off dangerous ground.<br />"True," I agreed. Homulka was the town Bon Temps loved to hate. We'd been rivals in football,<br />basketball, and historical<br />significance for generations.<br />"Neither does Roedale," Gran said from behind us, and Jason and I both jumped. I give Jason credit, he<br />jumps up and gives Gran a hug everytime he sees her.<br />"Gran, you got enough food in the oven for me?"<br />"You and two others," Gran said. Our grandmother smiled up at Jason. She was not blind to his faults<br />(or mine), but she loved him. "I just got a phone call from Everlee Mason. She was telling me you<br />hooked up with DeeAnne last night."<br />"Boy oh boy, can't do anything in this town without getting<br />caught," Jason said, but he wasn't really<br />angry.<br />'That DeeAnne," Gran said warningly as we all started into the house, "she's been pregnant one time I<br />know of. You just take care she doesn't have one of yours, you'll be paying the rest of your life. Course,<br />that may be the only way I get great-grandchildren!"<br />Gran had the food ready on the table, so after Jason hung up his hat we sat down and said grace. Then<br />Gran and Jason began gossiping with each other (though they called it "catching up") about people in our<br />little town and parish. My brother worked for the state, supervising road crews. It seemed to me like<br />Jason's day consisted of driving around in a state pickup, clocking off work, and then driving aroundall<br />night in his own pickup. Rene was on one of the work crews Jason oversaw, and they'd been to high<br />school together.<br />They hung around with Hoyt Fortenberry a lot.<br />"Sookie, I had to replace the hot water heater in the house," Jason said suddenly. He lives in my parents'<br />old house, the one we'd been living in when they died in a flash flood. We lived with Gran after that, but<br />when Jason got through his two years of college and went to work for the state, he moved back into the<br />house, which on paper is half mine.<br />"You need any money on that?" I asked.<br />"Naw, I got it."<br />We both make salaries, but we also have a little income from a fund established when an oil well was<br />sunk on my parents' property. It played out in a few years, but my parents and then Gran made sure the<br />money was invested. It saved Jason and me a lot of struggle, that padding. I don't know how Gran could<br />have raised us if it hadn't been for that money. She was determined not to sell any land, but her own<br />income is not much more than social security. That's one reason I don't get an apartment. If I get<br />groceries when I'm living with her, that's reasonable, to her; but if I buy groceries<br />and bring them to her<br />house and leave them on her table and go home to my house, that's charity and that makes her mad.<br />"What kind did you get?" I asked, just to show interest.<br />He was dying to tell me; Jason's an appliance freak, and he wanted to describe his comparison shopping<br />for a new water heater in detail. I listened with as much attention as I could muster.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />And then he interrupted himself. "Hey Sook, you remember<br />Maudette Pickens?"<br />"Sure," I said, surprised. "We graduated in the same class."<br />"Somebody killed Maudette in her apartment last night."<br />Gran and I were riveted. "When?" Grand asked, puzzled that she hadn't heard already.<br />"They just found her this very morning in her bedroom. Her boss tried to call her to find out why she<br />hadn't shown up for work yesterday and today and got no answer, so he rode over and got the manager<br />up, and they unlocked the place. You know she had the apartment across from Dee-Anne's?" Bon<br />Temps had only one bona fide apartment complex,<br />a three-building, two-story U-shaped grouping, so<br />we knew exactly where he meant.<br />"She got killed there?" I felt ill. I remembered Maudette clearly. Maudette had had a heavy jaw and a<br />square bottom, pretty black hair and husky shoulders. Maudette had been a plodder, never bright or<br />ambitious. I thought I recalled her working at the Grabbit Kwik, a gas station/convenience store.<br />"Yeah, she'd been working there for at least a year, I guess," Jason confirmed.<br />"How was it done?" My grandmother had that squnched, give-it-to-me-quick look with which nice<br />people ask for bad news.<br />"She had some vampire bites on her—uh—inner thighs," my brother said, looking down at his plate.<br />"But that wasn't what killed her. She was strangled. DeeAnne told me Maudette<br />liked to go to that<br />vampire bar in Shreveport when she had a couple of days off, so maybe that's where she got the bites.<br />Might not have beenSookie's vampire."<br />"Maudette was a fang-banger?" I felt queasy, imagining slow, chunky Maudette draped in the exotic<br />black dresses fang-bangers affected.<br />"What's that?" asked Gran. She must have missedSally-Jessy the day the phenomenon was explored.<br />"Men and women that hang around with vampires and enjoy being bitten. Vampire groupies. They don't<br />last too long, I think, because they want to be bitten too much, and sooner or later they get that one bite<br />too many."<br />"But a bite didn't kill Maudette." Gran wanted to be sure she had it straight.<br />"Nope, strangling." Jason had begun finishing his lunch.<br />"Don't you always get gas at the Grabbit?" I asked.<br />"Sure. So do a lot of people."<br />"And didn't you hang around with Maudette some?" Gran asked.<br />"Well, in a way of speaking," Jason said cautiously.<br />I took that to mean he'd bedded Maudette when he couldn't find anyone else.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"I hope the sheriff doesn't want to talk to you," Gran said, shaking her head as if indicating "no" would<br />make it less likely.<br />"What?" Jason was turning red, looking defensive.<br />"You see Maudette in the store all the time when you get your gas, you so-to-speak date her, then she<br />winds up dead in an apartment you're familiar with," I summarized. It wasn't much, but it was something,<br />and there were so few mysterious homicides in Bon Temps that I thought every stone would be turned in<br />its investigation.<br />"I ain't the only one who fills the bill. Plenty of other guys get their gas there, and all of them know<br />Maudette."<br />"Yeah, but in what sense?" Gran asked bluntly. "She wasn't a prostitute, was she? So she will have<br />talked about who she saw."<br />"She just liked to have a good time, she wasn't a pro." It was good of Jason to defend Maudette,<br />considering what I knew of his selfish character. I began to think a little better of my big brother. "She<br />was kinda lonely, I guess," he added.<br />Jason looked at both of us, then, and saw we were surprised<br />and touched.<br />"Speaking of prostitutes," he said hastily, "there's one in Monroe specializes in vampires. She keeps a<br />guy standing by with a stake in case one gets carried away. She drinks synthetic blood to keep her blood<br />supply up."<br />That was a pretty definite change of subject, so Gran and I tried to think of a question we could ask<br />without being indecent.<br />"Wonder how much she charges?" I ventured, and when Jason told us the figure he'd heard, we both<br />gasped.<br />Once we got off the topic of Maudette's murder, lunch went about as usual, with Jason looking at his<br />watch and exclaiming that he had to leave just when it was time to do the dishes.<br />But Gran's mind was still running on vampires, I found out. She came into my room later, when I was<br />putting on my makeup to go to work.<br />"How old you reckon the vampire is, the one you met?"<br />"I have no idea, Gran." I was putting on my mascara, looking wide-eyed and trying to hold still so I<br />wouldn't poke myself in the eye, so my voice came out funny, as if I was trying out for a horror movie.<br />"Do you suppose ... he might remember the War?"<br />I didn't need to ask which war. After all, Gran was a charter member of the Descendants of the Glorious<br />Dead.<br />"Could be," I said, turning my face from side to side to make sure my blush was even.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"You think he might come to talk to us about it? We could have a special meeting."<br />"At night," I reminded her.<br />"Oh. Yes, it'd have to be." The Descendants usually met at noon at the library and brought a bag lunch.<br />I thought about it. It would be plain rude to suggest to the vampire that he ought to speak to Gran's club<br />because I'd saved his blood from Drainers, but maybe he would offer if I gave a little hint? I didn't like to,<br />but I'd do it for Gran. "I'll ask him the next time he comes in," I promised.<br />"At least he could come talk to me and maybe I could tape his recollections?" Gran said. I could hear<br />her mind clicking as she thought of what a coup that would be for her. "It would be so interesting to the<br />other club members," she said piously.<br />I stifled an impulse to laugh. "I'll suggest it to him," I said. "We'll see."<br />When I left, Gran was clearly counting her chickens.<br />Ihadn't thought of Rene Lenier going to Sam with the story of the parking lot fight. Rene'd been a busy<br />bee, though. When I got to work that afternoon, I assumed the agitation I felt in the air was due to<br />Maudette's murder. I found out different.<br />Sam hustled me into the storeroom the minute I came in. He was hopping with anger. He reamed me up<br />one side and down the other.<br />Sam had never been mad with me before, and soon I was on the edge of tears.<br />"And if you think a customer isn't safe, you tell me, andI'll deal with it, not you," he was saying for the<br />sixth time, when I finally realized that Sam had been scared for me.<br />I caught that rolling off him before I clamped down firmly on "hearing" Sam. Listening in to your boss led<br />to disaster.<br />It had never occurred to me to ask Sam—or anyone else— for help.<br />"And if you think someone is being harmed in our parking lot, your next move is to call the police, not<br />step out there yourself like a vigilante," Sam huffed. His fair complection, always ruddy, was redder than<br />ever, and his wiry golden hair looked as if he hadn't combed it.<br />"Okay," I said, trying to keep my voice even and my eyes wide open so the tears wouldn't roll out. "Are<br />you gonna fire me?"<br />"No! No!" he exclaimed, apparently even angrier. "I don't want to lose you!" He gripped my shoulders<br />and gave me a little shake. Then he stood looking at me with wide, crackling blue eyes, and I felt a surge<br />of heat rushing out from him. Touching accelerates my disability, makes it imperative that I hear the<br />person touching. I stared right into his eyes for a long moment, then I remembered myself, and I jumped<br />back as his hands dropped away.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />I whirled and left the storeroom, spooked.<br />I'd learned a couple of disconcerting things. Sam desired me; and I couldn't hear his thoughts as clearly<br />as I could other people's. I'd had waves of impressions of how he was feeling, but not thoughts. More<br />like wearing a mood ring than getting a fax.<br />So, what did I do about either piece of information?<br />Absolutely nothing.<br />I'd never looked on Sam as a beddable man before—or at least not beddable by me—for a lot of<br />reasons. But the simplest<br />one was that I never looked at anyone that way, not because I don't have<br />hormones—boy, do I have hormones— but they are constantly tamped down because sex, for me, is a<br />disaster. Can you imagine knowing everything your sex partner is thinking? Right. Along the order of<br />"Gosh, look at that mole ... her butt is a little big ... wish she'd move to the right a little ... why doesn't she<br />take the hint and ... ?" You get the idea. It's chilling to the emotions, believe me.<br />And during sex, there is simply no way to keep a mental guard up.<br />Another reason is that I like Sam for a boss, and I like my job, which gets me out and keeps me active<br />and earning so I won't turn into the recluse my grandmother fears I'll become.<br />Working in an office is<br />hard for me, and college was simply impossible because of the grim concentration necessary.<br />It just<br />drained me.<br />So, right now, I wanted to mull over the rush of desire I'd felt from him. It wasn't like he'd made me a<br />verbal proposition<br />or thrown me down on the storeroom floor. I'd felt his feelings, and I could ignore<br />them if I chose. I appreciated the delicacy of this, and wondered if Sam had touched me on purpose, if<br />he actually knew what I was.<br />I took care not be alone with him, but I have to admit I was pretty shaken that night.<br />THE NEXT TWO nights were better. We fell back into our comfortable relationship. I was relieved. I<br />was disappointed.<br />I was also run off my feet since Maudette's murder sparked a business boom at<br />Merlotte's. All sorts of rumors were buzzing around Bon Temps, and the Shreveport news team did a<br />little piece on Maudette Picken's grisly death. Though I didn't attend her funeral, my grandmother did,<br />and she said the church was jam-packed. Poor lumpy Maudette, with her bitten thighs, was more<br />interesting in death than she'd ever been in life.<br />I was about to have two days off, and I was worried I'd miss connecting with the vampire, Bill. I needed<br />to relay my grandmother's request. He hadn't returned to the bar, and I began to wonder if he would.<br />Mack and Denise hadn't been back in Merlotte's either, but Rene Lenier and Hoyt Fortenberry made<br />sure I knew they'd threatened me with horrible things. I can't say I was seriously alarmed. Criminal trash<br />like the Rats roamed the highways and trailer parks of America, not smart enough or moral enough to<br />settle down to productive living. They never made a positive mark on the world, or amounted to a hill of<br />beans, to my way of thinking. I shrugged off Rene's warnings.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />But he sure enjoyed relaying them. Rene Lenier was small like Sam, but where Sam was ruddy and<br />blond, Rene was swarthy and had a bushy headful of rough, black hair threaded with gray. Rene often<br />came by the bar to drink a beer and visit with Arlene because (as he was fond of telling anyone in the<br />bar) she was his favorite ex-wife. He had three. Hoyt Fortenbeny was more of a cipher than Rene. He<br />was neither dark nor fair, neither big nor little. He always seemed cheerful and always tipped decent. He<br />admired my brother Jason far beyond what Jason deserved, in my opinion.<br />I was glad Rene and Hoyt weren't there the night the vampire<br />returned.<br />He sat at the same table.<br />Now that the vampire was actually in front of me, I felt a little shy. I found I'd forgotten the almost<br />imperceptible glow of his skin. I'd exaggerated his height and the clear-cut lines of his mouth.<br />"What can I get you?" I asked.<br />He looked up at me. I had forgotten, too, the depth of his eyes. He didn't smile or blink; he was so<br />immobile. For the second time, I relaxed into his silence. When I let down my guard, I could feel my face<br />relax. It was as good as getting a massage (I am guessing).<br />"What are you?" he asked me. It was the second time he'd wanted to know.<br />"I'm a waitress," I said, again deliberately misunderstanding<br />him. I could feel my smile snap back into<br />place again. My little bit of peace vanished.<br />"Red wine," he ordered, and if he was disappointed I couldn't tell by his voice.<br />"Sure," I said. "The synthetic blood should come in on the truck tomorrow. Listen, could I talk to you<br />after work? I have a favor to ask you."<br />"Of course. I'm in your debt." And he sure didn't sound happy about it.<br />"Not a favor for me!" I was getting miffed myself. "For my grandmother. If you'll be up—well, I guess<br />you will be— when I get off work at one-thirty, would you very much mindmeeting me at the employee<br />door at the back of the bar?" I nodded toward it, and my ponytail bounced around my shoulders. His<br />eyes followed the movement of my hair.<br />"I'd be delighted."<br />I didn't know if he was displaying the courtesy Gran insisted<br />was the standard in bygone times, or if he<br />was plain old mocking me.<br />I resisted the temptation to stick out my tongue at him or blow a raspberry. I spun on my heel and<br />marched back to the bar. When I brought him his wine, he tipped me 20 percent.<br />Soon after that, I<br />looked over at his table only to realize he'd vanished. I wondered if he'd keep his word.<br />Arlene and Dawn left before I was ready to go, for one reason and another; mostly because all the<br />napkin holders in my area proved to be half-empty. As I retrieved my purse from the locked cabinet in<br />Sam's office, where I stow it while I work, I called good-bye to my boss. I could hear him clanking<br />around in the men's room, probably trying to fix the leaky toilet. I stepped into the ladies' room for a<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />second to check my hair and makeup.<br />When I stepped outside I noticed that Sam had already switched off the customer parking lot lights.<br />Only the security<br />light on the electricity pole in front of his trailer illuminated<br />the employee parking lot.<br />To the amusement of Arlene and Dawn, Sam had put in a yard and planted boxwood<br />in front of his<br />trailer, and they were constantly teasing him about the neat line of his hedge.<br />I thought it was pretty.<br />As usual, Sam's truck was parked in front of his trailer, so my car was the only one left in the lot.<br />I stretched, looking from side to side. No Bill. I was surprised<br />at how disappointed I was. I had really<br />expected him to be courteous, even if his heart (did he have one?) wasn't in it.<br />Maybe, I thought with a smile, he'd jump out of a tree, or appear with a poof! in front of me draped in a<br />red-lined black cape. But nothing happened. So I trudged over to my car.<br />I'd hoped for a surprise, but not the one I got.<br />Mack Rattray jumped out from behind my car and in one stride got close enough to clip me in the jaw.<br />He didn't holdback one little bit, and I went down onto the gravel like a sack of cement. I let out a yell<br />when I went down, but the ground knocked all the air out of me and some skin off of me, and I was<br />silent and breathless and helpless. Then I saw Denise, saw her swing back her heavy boot, had just<br />enough warning to roll into a ball before the Rattrays began kicking me.<br />The pain was immediate, intense, and unrelenting. I threw my arms over my face instinctively, taking the<br />beating on my forearms, legs, and my back.<br />I think I was sure, during the first few blows, that they'd stop and hiss warnings and curses at me and<br />leave. But I remember the exact moment I realized that they intended to kill me.<br />I could lie there passively and take a beating, but I would not lie there and be killed.<br />The next time a leg came close I lunged and grabbed it and held on for my life. I was trying to bite, trying<br />to at least mark one of them. I wasn't even sure whose leg I had.<br />Then, from behind me, I heard a growl. Oh, no, they've brought a dog, I thought. The growl was<br />definitely hostile. If I'd had any leeway with my emotions, the hair would have stood up on my scalp.<br />I took one more kick to the spine, and then the beating stopped.<br />The last kick had done something dreadful to me. I could hear my own breathing, stertorous, and a<br />strange bubbling sound that seemed to be coming from my own lungs.<br />"What the hell is that?" Mack Rattray asked, and he sounded absolutely terrified.<br />I heard the growl again, closer, right behind me. And from another direction, I heard a sort of snarl.<br />Denise began wailing,<br />Mack was cursing. Denise yanked her leg from my grasp, which had grown very<br />weak. My arms flopped to the ground. They seemed to be beyond my control. Though my vision was<br />cloudy, I could see that my right arm was broken. My face felt wet. I was scared to continue evaluating<br />my injuries.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Mack began screaming, and then Denise, and there seemed to be all kinds of activity going on around<br />me, but I couldn'tmove. My only view was my broken arm and my battered knees and the darkness<br />under my car.<br />Some time later there was silence. Behind me, the dog whined. A cold nose poked my ear, and a warm<br />tongue licked it. I tried to raise my hand to pet the dog that had undoubtedly saved my life, but I couldn't.<br />I could hear myself<br />sigh. It seemed to come from a long way away.<br />Facing the fact, I said, "I'm dying." It began to seem more and more real to me. The toads and crickets<br />that had been making the most of the night had fallen silent at all the activity<br />and noise in the parking lot,<br />so my little voice came out clearly and fell into the darkness. Oddly enough, soon after that I heard two<br />voices.<br />Then a pair of knees covered in bloody blue jeans came into my view. The vampire Bill leaned over so I<br />could look into his face. There was blood smeared on his mouth, and his fangs were out, glistening white<br />against his lower lip. I tried to smile at him, but my face wasn't working right.<br />"I'm going to pick you up," Bill said. He sounded calm.<br />"I'll die if you do," I whispered.<br />He looked me over carefully. "Not just yet," he said, after this evaluation. Oddly enough, this made me<br />feel better; no telling how many injuries he'd seen in his lifetime, I figured.<br />"This will hurt," he warned me.<br />It was hard to imagine anything that wouldn't.<br />His arms slid under me before I had time to get afraid. I screamed, but it was a weak effort.<br />"Quick," said a voice urgently.<br />"We're going back in the woods out of sight," Bill said, cradling my body to him as if it weighed nothing.<br />Was he going to bury me back there, out of sight? After he'd just rescued me from the Rats? I almost<br />didn't care.<br />It was only a small relief when he laid me down on a carpet of pine needles in the darkness of the<br />woods. In the distance, I could see the glow of the light in the parking lot. I felt my hair trickling blood,<br />and I felt the pain of my broken arm and the agony of deep bruises, but what was most frightening<br />was<br />what I didn't feel.<br />I didn't feel my legs.<br />My abdomen felt full, heavy. The phrase "internal bleeding" lodged in my thoughts, such as they were.<br />"You will die unless you do as I say," Bill told me.<br />"Sorry, don't want to be a vampire," I said, and my voice was weak and thready.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"No, you won't be," he said more gently. "You'll heal. Quickly. I have a cure. But you have to be<br />willing."<br />"Then trot out the cure," I whispered. "I'm going." I could feel the pull the grayness was exerting on me.<br />In the little part of my mind that was still receiving signals from the world, I heard Bill grunt as if he'd<br />been hurt. Then something was pressed up against my mouth.<br />"Drink," he said.<br />I tried to stick out my tongue, managed. He was bleeding, squeezing to encourage the flow of blood<br />from his wrist into my mouth. I gagged. But I wanted to live. I forced myself to swallow. And swallow<br />again.<br />Suddenly the blood tasted good, salty, the stuff of life. My unbroken arm rose, my hand clamped the<br />vampire's wrist to my mouth. I felt better with every swallow. And after a minute,<br />I drifted off to sleep.<br />When I woke up, I was still in the woods, still lying on the ground. Someone was stretched out beside<br />me; it was the vampire. I could see his glow. I could feel his tongue moving on my head. He was licking<br />my head wound. I could hardly begrudge him.<br />"Do I taste different from other people?" Iasked.<br />"Yes," he said in a thick voice. "What are you?"<br />It was the third time he'd asked. Third time's the charm, Gran always said.<br />"Hey, I'm not dead," I said. I suddenly remembered I'd expected to check out for good. I wiggled my<br />arm, the one that had been broken. It was weak, but it wasn't flopping any longer. I could feel my legs,<br />and I wiggled them, too. I breathed in and out experimentally and was pleased with the resulting mild<br />ache. I struggled to sit up. That proved to be quite an effort, but not an impossibility. It was like my first<br />fever-free day after I'd had pneumonia as a kid. Feeble but blissful. I was aware I'd survived something<br />awful.<br />Before I finished straightening, he'd put his arms under me and cradled me to him. He leaned back<br />against a tree. Ifelt very comfortable sitting on his lap, my head against his chest.<br />"What I am, is telepathic," I said. "I can hear people's thoughts."<br />"Even mine?" He sounded merely curious.<br />"No. That's why I like you so much," I said, floating on a sea of pinkish well-being. I couldn't seem to be<br />bothered with camouflaging my thoughts.<br />I felt his chest rumble as he laughed. The laugh was a little rusty.<br />"I can't hear you at all," I blathered on, my voice dreamy. "You have no idea how peaceful that is. After<br />a lifetime of blah, blah, blah, to hear ... nothing."<br />"How do you manage going out with men? With men your age, their only thought is still surely how to get<br />you into bed."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Well, I don't. Manage. And frankly, at any age, I think their goal is get a woman in bed. I don't date.<br />Everyone thinks I'm crazy, you know, because I can't tell them the truth; which is, that I'm driven crazy<br />by all these thoughts, all these heads. I had a few dates when I started working at the bar, guys who<br />hadn't heard about me. But it was the same as always. You can't concentrate on being comfortable with<br />a guy, or getting a head of steam up, when you can hear they're wondering if you dye your hair, or<br />thinking that your butt's not pretty, or imagining what your boobs look like."<br />Suddenly I felt more alert, and I realized how much of myself I was revealing to this creature.<br />"Excuse me," I said. "I didn't mean to burden you with my problems. Thank you for saving me from the<br />Rats."<br />"It was my fault they had a chance to get you at all," he said. I could tell there was rage just under the<br />calm surface of his voice. "If I had had the courtesy to be on time, it would not have happened. So I<br />owed you some of my blood. I owed you the healing."<br />"Are they dead?" To my embarrassment, my voice sounded squeaky.<br />"Oh, yes."<br />I gulped. I couldn't regret that the world was rid of theRats. But I had to look this straight in the face, I<br />couldn't dodge the realization that I was sitting in the lap of a murderer.<br />Yet I was quite happy to sit<br />there, his arms around me.<br />"I should worry about this, but I'm not," I said, before I knew what I was going to say. I felt that rusty<br />laugh again.<br />"Sookie, why did you want to talk to me tonight?"<br />I had to think back hard. Though I was miraculously recovered<br />from the beating physically, I felt a little<br />hazy mentally.<br />"My grandmother is real anxious to know how old you are," I said hesitantly. I didn't know how<br />personal a question that was to a vampire. The vampire in question was stroking my back as though he<br />were soothing a kitten.<br />"I was made vampire in 1870, when I was thirty human years old." I looked up; his glowing face was<br />expressionless, his eyes pits of blackness in the dark woods.<br />"Did you fight in the War?"<br />"Yes."<br />"I have the feeling you're gonna get mad. But it would make her and her club so happy if you'd tell them<br />a little bit about the War, about what it was really like."<br />"Club?"<br />"She belongs to Descendants of the Glorious Dead."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Glorious dead." The vampire's voice was unreadable, but I could tell, sure enough, he wasn't happy.<br />"Listen, you wouldn't have to tell them about the maggots and the infections and the starvation," I said.<br />"They have their own picture of the War, and though they're not stupid people—they've lived through<br />other wars—they would like to know more about the way people lived then, and uniforms and troop<br />movements."<br />"Clean things."<br />I took a deep breath. "Yep."<br />"Would it make you happy if I did this?"<br />"What difference does that make? It would make Gran happy, and since you're in Bon Temps and seem<br />to want to live around here, it would be a good public relations move for you,"<br />"Would it make you happy?"<br />He was not a guy you could evade. "Well, yes."<br />"Then I'll do it."<br />"Gran says to please eat before you come," I said.<br />Again I heard the rumbling laugh, deeper this time.<br />"I'm looking forward to meeting her now. Can I call on you some night?"<br />"Ah. Sure. I work my last night tomorrow night, and the day after I'm off for two days, so Thursday<br />would be a good night." I lifted my arm to look at my watch. It was running, but the glass was covered<br />with dried blood. "Oh, yuck," I said, wetting my finger in my mouth and cleaning the watch face off with<br />spit. I pressed the button that illuminated the hands, and gasped when I saw what time it was.<br />"Oh, gosh, I got to get home. I hope Gran went to sleep."<br />"She must worry about you being out so late at night by yourself," Bill observed. He sounded<br />disapproving. Maybe he was thinking of Maudette? I had a moment of deep unease,<br />wondering if in fact<br />Bill had known her, if she'd invited him to come home with her. But I rejected the idea because I was<br />stubbornly unwilling to dwell on the odd, awful, nature of Maudette's life and death; I didn't want that<br />horror to cast a shadow on my little bit of happiness.<br />"It's part of my job," I said tartly. "Can't be helped. I don't work nights all the time, anyway. But when I<br />can, I do."<br />"Why?" The vampire gave me a shove up to my feet, and then he rose easily from the ground.<br />"Better tips. Harder work. No time to think."<br />"But night is more dangerous," he said disapprovingly.<br />He ought to know. "Now don't you go sounding like my grandmother," I chided him mildly. We had<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />almost reached the parking lot.<br />"I'm older than your grandmother," he reminded me. That brought the conversation up short.<br />After I stepped out of the woods, I stood staring. The parking lot was as serene and untouched as if<br />nothing had ever happened there, as if I hadn't been nearly beaten to death on that patch of gravel only<br />an hour before, as if the Rats hadn't met their bloody end.<br />The lights in the bar and in Sam's trailer were off.<br />The gravel was wet, but not bloody.<br />My purse was sitting on the hood of my car.<br />"And what about the dog?" I said.<br />I turned to look at my savior.<br />He wasn't there.<br />Chapter 2<br />I GOT UP very late the next morning, which was not too surprising. Gran had been asleep when I got<br />home, to my relief, and I was able to climb into my bed without waking her.<br />1 WAS DRINKING a cup of coffee at the kitchen table and Gran was cleaning out the pantry when the<br />phone rang. Gran eased her bottom up onto the stool by the counter, her normal chatting perch, to<br />answer it.<br />"Hel-lo,"she said. For some reason, she always sounded put out, as if a phone call were the last thing on<br />earth she wanted. I knew for a fact that wasn't the case.<br />"Hey, Everlee. No, sitting here talking to Sookie, she just got up. No, I haven't heard any news today.<br />No, no one called me yet. What? What tornado? Last night was clear. Four Tracks Corner? It did? No!<br />No, it did not! Really? Both of 'em? Um, um, um. What did Mike Spencer say?"<br />Mike Spencer was our parish coroner. I began to have a creepy feeling. I finished my coffee and poured<br />myself another<br />cup. I thought I was going to need it.<br />Gran hung up a minute later. "Sookie, you are not going to believe what has happened!"<br />I was willing to bet I would believe it.<br />"What?" I asked, trying not to look guilty.<br />"No matter how smooth the weather looked last night, a tornado must have touched down at Four<br />Tracks Corner! It turned over that rent trailer in the clearing there. The couple that was staying in it, they<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />both got killed, trapped under the trailer somehow and crushed to a pulp. Mike says he hasn't seen<br />anything like it."<br />"Is he sending the bodies for autopsy?"<br />"Well, I think he has to, though the cause of death seems clear enough, according to Stella. The trailer is<br />over on its side, their car is halfway on top of it, and trees are pulled up in the yard."<br />"My God," I whispered, thinking of the strength necessary to accomplish the staging of that scene.<br />"Honey, you didn't tell me if your friend the vampire came in last night?"<br />I jumped in a guilty way until I realized that in Gran's mind, she'd changed subjects. She'd been asking<br />me if I'd seen Bill every day, and now, at last, I could tell her yes— but not with a light heart.<br />Predictably, Gran was excited out of her gourd. She fluttered<br />around the kitchen as if Prince Charles<br />were the expected<br />guest.<br />"Tomorrow night. Now what time's he coming?" she asked.<br />"After dark. That's as close as I can get."<br />"We're on daylight saving time, so that'll be pretty late." Gran considered. "Good, we'll have time to eat<br />supper and clear it away beforehand. And we'll have all day tomorrow to clean the house. I haven't<br />cleaned that area rug in a year, I bet!"<br />"Gran, we're talking about a guy who sleeps in the ground all day," I reminded her. "I don't think he'd<br />ever look at the rug."<br />"Well, if I'm not doing it for him, then I'm doing it for me, so I can feel proud," Gran said unanswerably.<br />"Besides, young lady, how do you know where he sleeps?"<br />"Good question, Gran. I don't. But he has to keep out of the light and he has to keep safe, so that's my<br />guess."<br />Nothing would prevent my grandmother from going into a house-proud frenzy, I realized very shortly.<br />While I was getting ready for work, she went to the grocery and rented a rug cleaner and set to cleaning.<br />On my way to Merlotte's, I detoured north a bit and drove by the Four Tracks Corner. It was a<br />crossroads as old as human habitation of the area. Now formalized by road signs and pavement, local<br />lore said it was the intersection of two hunting trails. Sooner or later, there would be ranch-style houses<br />and strip malls lining the roads, I guessed, but for now it was woods and the hunting was still good,<br />according to Jason.<br />Since there was nothing to prevent me, I drove down the rutted path that led to the clearing where the<br />Rattrays' rented trailer had stood. I stopped my car and stared out the windshield,<br />appalled. The trailer,<br />a very small and old one, lay crushed ten feet behind its original location. The Rattrays' dented red car<br />was still resting on one end of the accordian-pleated mobile home. Bushes and debris were littered<br />around the clearing, and the woods behind the trailer showed signs of a great force passing through;<br />branches snapped off, the top of one pine hanging down by a thread of bark. There were clothes up in<br />the branches, and even a roast pan.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />I got out slowly and looked around me. The damage was simply incredible, especially since I knew it<br />hadn't been caused by a tornado; Bill the vampire had staged this scene to account for the deaths of the<br />Rattrays.<br />An old Jeep bumped its way down the ruts to come to a stop by me.<br />"Well, Sookie Stackhouse!" called Mike Spencer, "What you doing here, girl? Ain't you got work to go<br />to?"<br />"Yes, sir. I knew the Rat—the Rattrays. This is just an awful thing." I thought that was sufficiently<br />ambiguous. I could see now that the sheriff was with Mike.<br />"An awful thing. Yes, well. I did hear," Sheriff Bud Dearborn<br />said as climbed down out of the Jeep,<br />"that you and Mack and Denise didn't exactly see eye to eye in the parking lot of Merlotte's, last week."<br />I felt a cold chill somewhere around the region of my liver as the two men ranged themselves in front of<br />me.<br />Mike Spencer was the funeral director of one of Bon Temps' two funeral homes. As Mike was always<br />quick and definite in pointing out, anyone who wanted could be buried by Spencer and Sons Funeral<br />Home; but only white people seemed to want to. Likewise, only people of color chose to be buried at<br />Sweet Rest. Mike himself was a heavy middle-aged man with hair and mustache the color of weak tea,<br />and a fondness for cowboy boots and string ties that he could not wear when he was on duty at Spencer<br />and Sons. He was wearing them now.<br />Sheriff Dearborn, who had the reputation of being a good man, was a little older than Mike, but fit and<br />tough from his thick gray hair to his heavy shoes. The sheriff had a mashed-in face and quick brown eyes.<br />He had been a good friend of my father's.<br />"Yes, sir, we had us a disagreement," I said frankly in my down-homiest voice.<br />"You want to tell me about it?" The sheriff pulled out a Marlboro and lit it with a plain, metal lighter.<br />And I made a mistake. I should have just told him. I was supposed to be crazy, and some thought me<br />simple, too. But for the life of me, I could see no reason to explain myself to Bud Dearborn. No reason,<br />except good sense.<br />"Why?" I asked.<br />His small brown eyes were suddenly sharp, and the amiable<br />air vanished.<br />"Sookie," he said, with a world of disappointment in his voice. I didn't believe in it for a minute.<br />"I didn't do this," I said, waving my hand at the destruction.<br />"No, you didn't," he agreed. "But just the same, they die the week after they have a fight with someone, I<br />feel I should ask questions."<br />I was reconsidering staring him down. It would feel good, but I didn't think feeling good was worth it. It<br />was becoming apparent to me that a reputation for simplicity could be handy.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />I may be uneducated and unworldly, but I'm not stupid or unread.<br />"Well, they were hurting my friend," I confessed, hanging my head and eyeing my shoes.<br />"Would that be this vampire that's living at the old Comp-ton house?" Mike Spencer and Bud Dearborn<br />exchanged glances.<br />"Yes, sir." I was surprised to hear where Bill was living, but they didn't know that. From years of<br />deliberately not reacting to things I heard that I didn't want to know, I have good facial control. The old<br />Compton house was right across the fields from us, on the same side of the road. Between our houses<br />lay only the woods and the cemetery. How handy for Bill, I thought, and smiled.<br />"Sookie Stackhouse, your granny is letting you associate with that vampire?" Spencer said unwisely.<br />"You can sure talk to her about that," I suggested maliciously,<br />hardly able to wait to hear what Gran<br />would say when someone suggested she wasn't taking care of me. "You know, the Rattrays were trying<br />to drain Bill."<br />"So the vampire was being drained by the Rattrays? And you stopped them?" interrupted the sheriff.<br />"Yes," I said and tried to look resolute.<br />"Vampire drainingis illegal," he mused.<br />"Isn't it murder, to kill a vampire that hasn't attacked you?" I asked.<br />I may have pushed the naivete a little too hard.<br />"You know damn good and well it is, though I don't agree with that law. It is a law, and I will uphold it,"<br />the sheriff said stiffly.<br />"So the vampire just let them leave, without threatening vengeance? Saying anything like he wished they<br />were dead?" Mike Spencer was being stupid.<br />"That's right." I smiled at both of them and then looked at my watch. I remembered the blood on its face,<br />my blood, beaten out of me by the Rattrays. I had to look through that blood to read the time.<br />"Excuse me, I have to get to work," I said. "Good-bye, Mr. Spencer, Sheriff."<br />"Good-bye, Sookie," Sheriff Dearborn said. He looked like he had more to ask me, but couldn't think of<br />how to put it. I could tell he wasn't totally happy with the look of the scene,and I doubted any tornado<br />had shown up on radar anywhere. Nonetheless, there was the trailer, there was the car, there were the<br />trees, and the Rattrays had been dead under them. What could you decide but that the tornado had killed<br />them? I guessed the bodies had been sent for an autopsy, and I wondered how much could be told by<br />such a procedure under the circumstances.<br />The human mind is an amazing thing. Sheriff Dearborn must have known that vampires are very strong.<br />But he just couldn't imagine how strong one could be: strong enough to turn over a trailor, crush it. It was<br />even hard for me to comprehend,<br />and I knew good and well that no tornado had touched down at Four<br />Corners.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />The whole bar was humming with the news of the deaths. Maudette's murder had taken a backseat to<br />Denise and Mack's demises. I caught Sam eyeing me a couple of times, and I thought about the night<br />before and wondered how much he knew. But I was scared to ask in case he hadn't seen anything. I<br />knew there were things that had happened the night before that I hadn't yet explained to my own<br />satisfaction,<br />but I was so grateful to be alive that I put off thinking of them.<br />I'd never smiled so hard while I toted drinks, I'd never made change so briskly, I'd never gotten orders<br />so exactly. Even ol' bushy-haired Rene didn't slow me down, though he insisted on dragging me into his<br />long-winded conversations every time I came near the table he was sharing with Hoyt and a couple of<br />other cronies.<br />Rene played the role of crazy Cajun some of the time, though any Cajun accent he might assume was<br />faked. His folks had let their heritage fade. Every woman he'd married had been hard-living and wild. His<br />brief hitch with Arlene had been whenshe was young and childless, and she'd told me that from time to<br />time she'd done things then that curled her hair to think about now. She'd grown up since then, but Rene<br />hadn't. Arlene was sure fond of him, to my amazement.<br />Everyone in the bar was excited that night because of the unusual happenings in Bon Temps. A woman<br />had been murdered,<br />and it was a mystery; usually murders in Bon Temps are easily solved. And a<br />couple had died violently by a freakof nature. I attributed what happened next to that excitement. This is<br />a neighborhood bar, with a few out of towners who pass through on a regular basis, and I've never had<br />much problem with unwanted attention. But that night one of the men at a table next to Rene and Hoyt's,<br />a heavy blond man with a broad, red face, slid his hand up the leg of my shorts when I was bringing their<br />beer.<br />That doesn't fly at Merlotte's.<br />I thought of bringing the tray down on his head when I felt the hand removed. I felt someone standing<br />right behind me. I turned my head and saw Rene, who had left his chair without my even realizing it. I<br />followed his arm down and saw that his hand was gripping the blond's and squeezing. The blond's red<br />face was turning a mottled mixture.<br />"Hey, man, let go!" the blond protested. "I didn't mean nothing."<br />"You don't touch anyone who works here. That's the rule." Rene might be short and slim, but anyone<br />there would have put his money on our local boy over the beefier visitor.<br />"Okay, okay."<br />"Apologize to the lady."<br />"To Crazy Sookie?" His voice was incredulous. He must have been here before.<br />Rene's hand must have tightened. I saw tears spring into the blond's eyes.<br />"I'm sorry, Sookie, okay?"<br />I nodded as regally as I could. Rene let go of the man's hand abruptly and jerked his thumb to tell the<br />guy to take a hike. The blond lost no time throwing himself out the door. His companion followed.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Rene, you should have let me handle that myself," I said to him very quietly when it seemed the patrons<br />had resumed their conversations. We'd given the gossip mill enough grist for at least a couple of days.<br />"But I appreciate you standing up for me."<br />"I don't want no one messing with Arlene's friend," Rene said matter-of-factly. "Merlotte's is a nice<br />place, we all want to keep it nice. 'Sides, sometimes you remind me of Cindy, you know?"<br />Cindy was Rene's sister. She'd moved to Baton Rouge ayear or two ago. Cindy was blond and<br />blue-eyed: beyond that I couldn't think of a similarity. But it didn't seem polite to say so. "You see Cindy<br />much?" I asked. Hoyt and the other man at the table were exchanging Shreveport Captains scores and<br />statistics.<br />"Every so now and then," Rene said, shaking his head as if to say he'd like it to be more often. "She<br />works in a hospital cafeteria."<br />I patted him on the shoulder. "I gotta go work."<br />When I reached the bar to get my next order, Sam raised his eyebrows at me. I widened my eyes to<br />show how amazed I was at Rene's intervention, and Sam shrugged slightly, as if to say there was no<br />accounting for human behavior.<br />But when I went behind the bar to get some more napkins, I noticed he'd pulled out the baseball bat he<br />kept below the till for emergencies.<br />GRAN KEPT ME busy all the next day. She dusted and vacuumed and mopped, and I scrubbed the<br />bathrooms—did vampires even need to use the bathroom? I wondered, as I chugged the toilet brush<br />around the bowl. Gran had me vacuum<br />the cat hair off the sofa. I emptied all the trash cans. I polished<br />all the tables. I wiped down the washer and the dryer, for goodness's sake.<br />When Gran urged me to get in the shower and change my clothes, I realized that she regarded Bill the<br />vampire as my date. That made me feel a little odd. One, Gran was so desperate<br />for me to have a social<br />life that even a vampire was eligible for my attention; two, that I had some feelings that backed up that<br />idea; three, that Bill might accurately read all this; four, could vampires even do it like humans?<br />I showered and put on my makeup and wore a dress, since I knew Gran would have a fit if I didn't. It<br />was a little blue cotton-knit dress with tiny daisies all over it, and it was tighter than Gran liked and<br />shorter than Jason deemed proper in his sister. I'd heard that the first time I'd worn it. I put my little<br />yellow ball earrings in and wore my hair pulled up and back with a yellow banana clip holding it loosely.<br />Gran gave me one odd look, which I was at a loss tointerpret. I could have found out easily enough by<br />listening in, but that was a terrible thing to do to the person you lived with, so I was careful not to. She<br />herself was wearing a skirt and blouse that she often wore to the Descendants of the Glorious Dead<br />meetings, not quite good enough for church, but not plain enough for everyday wear.<br />I was sweeping the front porch, which we'd forgotten, when he came. He made a vampire entrance; one<br />minute he wasn't there, and the next he was, standing at the bottom of the steps and looking up at me.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />I grinned. "Didn't scare me," I said.<br />He looked a little embarrassed. "It's just a habit," he said, "appearing like that. I don't make much noise."<br />I opened the door. "Come on in," I invited, and he came up the steps, looking around.<br />"I remember this," he said. "It wasn't so big, though."<br />"You remember this house? Gran's gonna love it." I preceded<br />him into the living room, calling Gran as I<br />went.<br />She came into the living room very much on her dignity, and I realized for the first time she'd taken great<br />pains with her thick white hair, which was smooth and orderly for a change, wrapped around her head in<br />a complicated coil. She had on lipstick, too.<br />Bill proved as adept at social tactics as my grandmother. They greeted, thanked each other,<br />complimented, and finally Bill ended up sitting on the couch and, after carrying out a tray with three<br />glasses of peach tea, my Gran sat in the easy chair, making it clear I was to perch by Bill. There was no<br />way to get out of this without being even more obvious, so I sat by him, but scooted forward to the edge,<br />as if I might hop up at any moment to get him a refill on his, the ritual glass of iced tea.<br />He politely touched his lips to the edge of the glass and then set it down. Gran and I took big nervous<br />swallows of ours.<br />Gran picked an unfortunate opening topic. She said, "I guess you heard about the strange tornado."<br />'Tell me," Bill said, his cool voice as smooth as silk. I didn't dare look at him, but sat with my hands<br />folded and my eyes fixed to them.<br />So Gran told him about the freak tornado and the deaths of the Rats. She told him the whole thing<br />seemed pretty awful, but cut-and-dried, and at that I thought Bill relaxed just a millimeter.<br />"I went by yesterday on my way to work," I said, without raising my gaze. "By the trailer."<br />"Did you find it looked as you expected?" Bill asked, only curiosity in his voice.<br />"No," I said. "It wasn't anything I could have expected. I was really ... amazed."<br />"Sookie, you've seen tornado damage before," Gran said, surprised.<br />I changed the subject. "Bill, where'd you get your shirt? It looks nice." He was wearing khaki Dockers<br />and a green-and-brown striped golfing shirt, polished loafers, and thin, brown socks.<br />"Dillard's," he said, and I tried to imagine him at the mall in Monroe, perhaps, other people turning to<br />look at this exotic<br />creature with his glowing skin and beautiful eyes. Where would he get the money to<br />pay with? How did he wash his clothes? Did he go into his coffin naked? Did he have a car or did he just<br />float wherever he wanted to go?<br />Gran was pleased with the normality of Bill's shopping habits. It gave me another pang of pain, observing<br />how glad she was to see my supposed suitor in her living room, even if (according to popular literature)<br />he was a victim of a virus that made him seem dead.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Gran plunged into questioning Bill. He answered her with courtesy and apparent goodwill. Okay, he was<br />apolite dead man.<br />"And your people were from this area?" Gran inquired.<br />"My father's people were Comptons, my mother's people Loudermilks," Bill said readily. He seemed<br />quite relaxed.<br />"There are lots of Loudermilks left," Gran said happily. "But I'm afraid old Mr. Jessie Compton died last<br />year."<br />"I know," Bill said easily. "That's why I came back. The land reverted to me, and since things have<br />changed in our culture toward people of my particular persuasion, I decided to claim it."<br />"Did you know the Stackhouses? Sookie says you have along history." I thought Gran had put it well. I<br />smiled at my hands.<br />"I remember Jonas Stackhouse," Bill said, to Gran's delight. "My folks were here when Bon Temps was<br />just a hole in the road at the edge of the frontier. Jonas Stackhouse moved here with his wife and his four<br />children when I was a young man of sixteen. Isn't this the house he built, at least in part?"<br />I noticed that when Bill was thinking of the past, his voice took on a different cadence and vocabulary. I<br />wondered how many changes in slang and tone his English had taken on through the past century.<br />Of course, Gran was in genealogical hog heaven. She wanted to know all about Jonas, her husband's<br />great-great-great-great-grandfather. "Did he own slaves?" she asked.<br />"Ma'am, if I remember correctly, he had a house slave and a yard slave. The house slave was a woman<br />of middle age and the yard slave a very big young man, very strong, named Minas. But the Stackhouses<br />mostly worked their own fields, as did my folks."<br />"Oh, that is exactly the kind of thing my little group would love to hear! Did Sookie tell you..." Gran and<br />Bill, after much polite do-si-doing, set a date for Bill to address a night meeting of the Descendants.<br />"And now, if you'll excuse Sookie and me, maybe we'll take a walk. It's a lovely night." Slowly, so I<br />could see it coming, he reached over and took my hand, rising and pulling<br />me to my feet, too. His hand<br />was cold and hard and smooth. Bill wasn't quite asking Gran's permission, but not quite not, either.<br />"Oh, you two go on," my grandmother said, fluttering with happiness. "I have so many things to look up.<br />You'll have to tell me all the local names you remember from when you were ..." and here Gran ran<br />down, not wanting to say something<br />wounding.<br />"Resident here in Bon Temps," I supplied helpfully.<br />"Of course," the vampire said, and I could tell from the compression of his lips that he was trying not to<br />smile.<br />Somehow we were at the door, and I knew that Bill hadlifted me and moved me quickly. I smiled,<br />genuinely. I like the unexpected.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"We'll be back in a while," I said to Gran. I didn't think she'd noticed my odd transition, since she was<br />gathering up our tea glasses.<br />"Oh, you two don't hurry on my account," she said. "I'll be just fine."<br />Outside, the frogs and toads and bugs were singing their nightly rural opera. Bill kept my hand as we<br />strolled out into the yard, full of the smell of new-mown grass and budding things. My cat, Tina, came out<br />of the shadows and asked to be tickled, and I bent over and scratched her head. To my surprise, the cat<br />rubbed against Bill's legs, an activity he did nothing to discourage.<br />"You like this animal?" he asked, his voice neutral.<br />"It's my cat," I said. "Her name is Tina, and I like her a lot."<br />Without comment, Bill stood still, waiting until Tina went on her way into the darkness outside the porch<br />light.<br />"Would you like to sit in the swing or the lawn chairs, or would you like to walk?" I asked, since I felt I<br />was now the hostess.<br />"Oh, let's walk for a while. I need to stretch my legs."<br />Somehow this statement unsettled me a little, but I began moving down the long driveway in the direction<br />of the two-lane parish road that ran in front of both our homes.<br />"Did the trailer upset you?"<br />I tried to think how to put it.<br />"I feel very ... hmmm. Fragile. When I think about the trailer."<br />"You knew I was strong."<br />I tilted my head from side to side, considering. "Yes, but I didn't realize the full extent of your strength," I<br />told him. "Or your imagination."<br />"Over the years, we get good at hiding what we've done."<br />"So. I guess you've killed a bunch of people."<br />"Some." Deal with it, his voice implied.<br />I clasped both hands behind my back. "Were you hungrier right after you became a vampire? How did<br />that happen?"<br />He hadn't expected that. He looked at me. I could feel hiseyes on me even though we were now in the<br />dark. The woods were close around us. Our feet crunched on the gravel.<br />"As to how I became a vampire, that's too long a story for now," he said. "But yes, when I was<br />younger—a few times—I killed by accident. I was never sure when I'd get to eat again, you understand?<br />We were always hunted, naturally,<br />and there was no such thing as artificial blood. And there were not as<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />many people then. But I had been a good man when I was alive—I mean, before I caught the virus. So I<br />tried to be civilized about it, select bad people as my victims, never feed on children. I managed never to<br />kill a child, at least. It's so different now. I can go to the all-night clinic in any city and get some synthetic<br />blood, though it's disgusting. Or I can pay a whore and get enough blood to keep going for a couple of<br />days. Or I can glamor someone, so they'll let me bite them for love and then forget all about it. And I<br />don't need so much now."<br />"Or you can meet a girl who gets head injuries," I said.<br />"Oh, you were the dessert. The Rattrays were the meal."<br />Deal with it.<br />"Whoa," I said, feeling breathless. "Give me a minute."<br />And he did. Not one man in a million would have allowed me that time without speaking. I opened my<br />mind, let my guards down completely, relaxed. His silence washed over me. I stood, closed my eyes,<br />breathed out the relief that was too profound for words.<br />"Are you happy now?" he asked, just as if he could tell.<br />"Yes," I breathed. At that moment I felt that no matter what this creature beside me had done, this peace<br />was priceless<br />after a lifetime of the yammering of other minds inside my own.<br />"You feel good to me, too," he said, surprising me.<br />"How so?" I asked, dreamy and slow.<br />"No fear, no hurry, no condemnation. I don't have to use my glamor to make you hold still, to have a<br />conversation with you."<br />"Glamor?"<br />"Like hypnotism," he explained. "All vampires use it, to some extent or another. Because to feed, until<br />the new synthetic<br />blood was developed, we had to persuade people wewere harmless ... or assure them<br />they hadn't seen us at all ... or delude them into thinking they'd seen something else."<br />"Does it work on me?"<br />"Of course," he said, sounding shocked.<br />"Okay, do it."<br />"Look at me."<br />"It's dark."<br />"No matter. Look at my face." And he stepped in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders,<br />and looked down at me. I could see the faint shine of his skin and eyes, and I peered up at him,<br />wondering if I'd begin to squawk like a chicken or take my clothes off.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />But what happened was ... nothing. I felt only the nearly druglike relaxation of being with him.<br />"Can you feel my influence?" he asked. He sounded a little breathless.<br />"Not a bit, I'm sorry," I said humbly. "I just see you glow."<br />"You can see that?" I'd surprised him again.<br />"Sure. Can't everyone?"<br />"No. This is strange, Sookie."<br />"If you say so. Can I see you levitate?"<br />"Right here?" Bill sounded amused.<br />"Sure, why not? Unless there's a reason?"<br />"No, none at all." And he let go of my arms and began to rise.<br />I breathed a sigh of pure rapture. He floated up in the dark, gleaming like white marble in the moonlight.<br />When he was about two feet off the ground, he began hovering. I thought he was smiling down at me.<br />"Can all of you do that?" I asked.<br />"Can you sing?"<br />"Nope, can't carry a tune."<br />"Well, we can't all do the same things, either." Bill came down slowly and landed on the ground without<br />a thump. "Most humans are squeamish about vampires. You don't seem to be," he commented.<br />I shrugged. Who was I to be squeamish about something out of the ordinary? He seemed to understand<br />because, aftera pause, during which we'd resumed walking, Bill said, "Has it always been hard for you?"<br />"Yes, always." I couldn't say otherwise, though I didn't want to whine. "When I was very small, that was<br />worst, because I didn't know how to put up my guard, and I heard thoughts I wasn't supposed to hear,<br />of course, and I repeated them like a child will. My parents didn't know what to do about me. It<br />embarrassed my father, in particular. My mother finally took me to a child psychologist, who knew<br />exactly what I was, but she just couldn't accept it and kept trying to tell my folks I was reading their body<br />language and was very observant, so I had good reason to imagine I heard people's thoughts. Of course,<br />she couldn't admit I was literallyhearing<br />people's thoughts because that just didn't fit into her world.<br />"And I did poorly in school because it was so hard for me to concentrate when so few others were. But<br />when there was testing, I would test very high because the other kids were concentrating on their own<br />papers ... that gave me a little leeway. Sometimes my folks thought I was lazy for not doing well on<br />everyday work. Sometimes the teachers thought I had a learning disability; oh, you wouldn't believe the<br />theories.<br />I must have had my eyes and ears tested every two months, seemed like, and brain scans ...<br />gosh. My poor folks paid through the nose. But they never could accept the simple truth. At least<br />outwardly, you know?"<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"But they knew inside."<br />"Yes. Once, when my dad was trying to decide whether to back a man who wanted to open an auto<br />parts store, he asked me to sit with him when the man came to the house. After the man left, my dad<br />took me outside and looked away and said, 'Sookie, is he telling the truth?' It was the strangest moment."<br />"How old were you?"<br />"I must've been less than seven 'cause they died when I was in the second grade."<br />"How?"<br />"Flash flood. Caught them on the bridge west of here."<br />Bill didn't comment. Of course, he'd seen deaths piled upon deaths.<br />"Was the man lying?" he asked after a few seconds had gone by.<br />"Oh, yes. He planned to take Daddy's money and run."<br />"You have a gift."<br />"Gift. Right." I could feel the corners of my mouth pull down.<br />"It makes you different from other humans."<br />"You're telling me." We walked for a moment in silence. "So you don't consider yourself human at all?"<br />"I haven't for a long time."<br />"Do you really believe you've lost your soul?" That was what the Catholic Church was preaching about<br />vampires.<br />"I have no way of knowing," Bill said, almost casually. It was apparent that he'd brooded over it so often<br />it was quite a commonplace thought to him. "Personally, I think not. There is something in me that isn't<br />cruel, not murderous, even after all these years. Though I can be both."<br />"It's not your fault you were infected with a virus."<br />Bill snorted, even managing to sound elegant doing that. "There have been theories as long as there have<br />been vampires.<br />Maybe that one is true." Then he looked as if he was sorry he'd said that. "If what<br />makes a vampire is a virus," he went on in a more offhand manner, "it's a selective one."<br />"How do you become a vampire?" I'd read all kinds of stuff, but this would be straight from the horse's<br />mouth.<br />"I would have to drain you, at one sitting or over two or three days, to the point of your death, then give<br />you my blood. You would lie like a corpse for about forty-eight hours, sometimes as long as three days,<br />then rise and walk at night. And you would be hungry."<br />The way he said "hungry" made me shiver.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"No other way?"<br />"Other vampires have told me humans they habitually bite, day after day, can become vampires quite<br />unexpectedly. But that requires consecutive, deep, feedings. Others, under the same conditions, merely<br />become anemic. Then again, when people are near to death for some other reason, a car accident or a<br />drug overdose, perhaps, the process can go... badly wrong."<br />I was getting the creepies. 'Time to change the subject.<br />What do you plan on doing with the Compton land?"<br />"I plan on living there, as long as I can. I'm tired of drifting<br />from city to city. I grew up in the country.<br />Now that I have a legal right to exist, and I can go to Monroe or Shreve-port or New Orleans for<br />synthetic blood or prostitutes who specialize in our kind, I want to stay here. At least see if it's possible.<br />I've been roaming for decades."<br />"What kind of shape is the house in?"<br />"Pretty bad," he admitted. "I've been trying to clean it out. That I can do at night. But I need workmen to<br />get some repairs done. I'm not bad at carpentry, but I don't know a thing about electricity."<br />Of course, he wouldn't.<br />"It seems to me the house may need rewiring," Bill continued,<br />sounding for all the world like any other<br />anxious homeowner.<br />"Do you have a phone?"<br />"Sure," he said, surprised.<br />"So what's the problem with the workmen?"<br />"It's hard to get in touch with them at night, hard to get them to meet with me so I can explain what<br />needs doing. They're scared, or they think it's a prank call." Frustration was evident in Bill's voice, though<br />his face was turned away from me.<br />I laughed. "If you want, I'll call them," I offered. "They know me. Even though everyone thinks I'm crazy,<br />they know I'm honest."<br />"That would be a great favor," Bill said, after some hesitation.<br />"They could work during the day, after<br />I'd met with them to discuss the job and the cost."<br />"What an inconvenience, not being able to get out in the day," I said thoughtlessly. I'd never really<br />considered it before.<br />Bill's voice was dry. "It certainly is."<br />"And having to hide your resting place," I blundered on.<br />When I felt the quality of Bill's silence, I apologized.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"I'm sorry," I said. If it hadn't been so dark, he would have seen me turn red.<br />"A vampire's daytime resting place is his most closely guarded secret," Bill said stiffly.<br />"I apologize."<br />"I accept," he said, after a bad little moment. We reached the road and looked up and down it as if we<br />expected a taxi. I could see him clearly by the moonlight, now that we were out of the trees. He could<br />see me, too. He looked me up and down.<br />"Your dress is the color of your eyes."<br />'Thank you." I sure couldn't see himthat clearly.<br />"Not a lot of it, though."<br />"Excuse me?"<br />"It's hard for me to get used to young ladies with so few clothes on," Bill said.<br />"You've had a few decades to get used to it," I said tartly. "Come on, Bill! Dresses have been short for<br />forty years now!"<br />"I liked long skirts," he said nostalgically. "I liked the underthings women wore. The petticoats."<br />I made a rude noise.<br />"Do you even have a petticoat?" he asked.<br />"I have a very pretty beige nylon slip with lace," I said indignantly. "If you were a human guy, I'd say you<br />were angling for me to talk about my underwear!"<br />He laughed, that deep, unused chuckle that affected me so strongly. "Do you have that slip on, Sookie?"<br />I stuck out my tongue at him because I knew he could see me. I edged the skirt of my dress up,<br />revealing the lace of the slip and a couple more inches of tanned me.<br />"Happy?" I asked.<br />"You have pretty legs, but I still like long dresses better."<br />"You're stubborn," I told him.<br />"That's what my wife always told me."<br />"You were married."<br />"Yes, I became a vampire when I was thirty. I had a wife, and I had five living children. My sister,<br />Sarah, lived with us. She never wed. Her young man was killed in the war."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"The Civil War."<br />"Yes. I came back from the battlefield. I was one of the lucky ones. At least I thought so at the time."<br />"You fought for the Confederacy," I said wonderingly. "Ifyou still had your uniform and wore it to the<br />club, the ladies would faint with joy."<br />"I hadn't much of a uniform by the end of the war," he said grimly. "We were in rags and starving." He<br />seemed to shake himself. "It had no meaning for me after I became vampire," Bill said, his voice once<br />again chilly and remote.<br />"I've brought up something that upset you," I said. "I am sorry. What should we talk about?" We turned<br />and began to stroll back down the driveway toward the house.<br />"Your life," he said. "Tell me what you do when you get up in the morning."<br />"I get out of bed. Then I make it up right away. I eat breakfast. Toast, sometimes cereal, sometimes<br />eggs, and coffee—<br />and I brush my teeth and shower and dress. Sometimes I shave my legs, you know.<br />If it's a workday, I go in to work. If I don't go in until night, I might go shopping, or take Gran to the<br />store, or rent a movie to watch, or sunbathe. And I read a lot. I'm lucky Gran is still spry. She does the<br />wash and the ironing and most of the cooking."<br />"What about young men?"<br />"Oh, I told you about that. It's just impossible."<br />"So what will you do, Sookie?" he asked gently.<br />"Grow old and die." My voice was short. He'd touched on my sensitive area once too often.<br />To my surprise, Bill reached over and took my hand. Now that we'd made each other a little angry,<br />touched some sore spots, the air seemed somehow clearer. In the quiet night, a breeze wafted my hair<br />around my face.<br />'Take the clip out?" Bill asked.<br />No reason not to. I reclaimed my hand and reached up to open the clip. I shook my head to loosen my<br />hair. I stuck the clip in his pocket, since I hadn't any. As if it was the most normal thing in the world, Bill<br />began running his fingers<br />through my hair, spreading it out on my shoulders.<br />I touched his sideburns, since apparently touching was okay. "They're long," I observed.<br />"That was the fashion," he said. "It's lucky for me I didn't wear a beard as so many men did, or I'd have<br />it for eternity."<br />"You never have to shave?"<br />"No, luckily I had just shaven." He seemed fascinated withmy hair. "In the moonlight, it looks silver," he<br />said very quietly.<br />"Ah. What do you like to do?"<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />I could see a shadow of a smile in the darkness.<br />"I like to read, too." He thought. "I like the movies ... of course, I've followed their whole inception. I<br />like the company<br />of people who lead ordinary lives. Sometimes I crave the company of other vampires,<br />though most of them lead very different lives from mine."<br />We walked in silence for a moment.<br />"Do you like television?"<br />"Sometimes," he confessed. "For a while I taped soap operas<br />and watched them at night when I<br />thought I might be forgetting what it was like to be human. After a while I stopped, because from the<br />examples I saw on those shows, forgetting humanity was a good thing." I laughed.<br />We walked into the circle of light around the house. I had half-expected Gran to be on the porch swing<br />waiting for us, but she wasn't. And only one dim bulb glowed in the living room. Really, Gran, I thought,<br />exasperated. This was just like being brought home from a first date by a new man. I actually caught<br />myself wondering if Bill would try to kiss me or not. With his views on long dresses, he would probably<br />think it was out of line. But as stupid as kissing a vampire might seem, I realized that was what I really<br />wanted to do, more than anything.<br />I got a tight feeling in my chest, a bitterness, at another thing I was denied. And I thought, Why not?<br />I stopped him by pulling gently on his hand. I stretched up and lay my lips on his shining cheek. I inhaled<br />the scent of him, ordinary but faintly salty. He was wearing a trace of cologne.<br />I felt him shudder. He turned his head so his lips touched mine. After a moment, I reached to circle his<br />neck with my arms. His kiss deepened, and I parted my lips. I'd never been kissed like this. It went on<br />and on until I thought the whole world was involved in this kiss in the vampire's mouth on mine. I could<br />feel my breathing speeding up, and I began to want other things to happen.<br />Suddenly Bill pulled back. He looked shaken, whichpleased me no end. "Good night, Sookie," he said,<br />stroking my hair one last time.<br />"Good night, Bill," I said. I sounded pretty quavery myself.<br />"I'll try to call some electricians tomorrow.<br />I'll let you know what they say."<br />"Come by the house tomorrow night—if you're off work?"<br />"Yes," I said. I was still trying to gather myself.<br />"See you then. Thanks, Sookie." And he turned away to walk through the woods back over to his place.<br />Once he reached the darkness, he was invisible.<br />I stood staring like a fool, until I shook myself and went inside to go to bed.<br />I spent an indecent amount of time lying awake in bed wondering if the undead could actually do—it.<br />Also, I wondered<br />if it would be possible to have a frank discussion with Bill about that. Sometimes he<br />seemed very old-fashioned, sometimes he seemed as normal as the guy next door. Well, not really, but<br />pretty normal.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />It seemed both wonderful and pathetic to me that the one creature I'd met in years that I'd want to have<br />sex with was actually not human. My telepathy limited my options severely.<br />I could have had sex just to<br />have it, sure; but I had waited to have sex I could actually enjoy.<br />What if we did it, and after all these years I discovered I had no talent for it? Or maybe it wouldn't feel<br />good. Maybe all the books and movies exaggerated. Arlene, too, who never seemed to understand that<br />her sex life was not something I wanted to hear about.<br />I finally got to sleep, to have long, dark dreams.<br />The next morning, between fielding Gran's questions about my walk with Bill and our future plans, I<br />made some phone calls. I found two electricians, a plumber, and some other service people who gave<br />me phone numbers where they could be reached at night and made sure they understood that a phone<br />call from Bill Compton was not a prank.<br />Finally, I was lying out in the sun turning toasty when Gran carried the phone out to me.<br />"It's your boss," she said. Gran liked Sam, and he musthave said something to make her happy because<br />she was grinning like a Cheshire cat.<br />"Hi, Sam," I said, maybe not sounding too glad because I knew something had gone wrong at work.<br />"Dawn didn't make it in, cher," he said.<br />"Oh...hell," I said, knowing I'd have to go in. "I kind of have plans, Sam." That was a first. "When do<br />you need me?"<br />"Could you just come in from five to nine? That would help out a lot."<br />"Am I gonna get another full day off?"<br />"What about Dawn splitting a shift with you another night?"<br />I made a rude noise, and Gran stood there with a stern face. I knew I'd get a lecture later. "Oh, all right,"<br />I said grudgingly. "See you at five."<br />"Thanks, Sookie," he said. "I knew I could count on you."<br />I tried to feel good about that. It seemed like a boring virtue. You can always count on Sookie to step in<br />and help because she doesn't have a life!<br />Of course, it would be fine to get to Bill's after nine. He'd be up all night, anyway.<br />Work had never seemed so slow. I had trouble concentrating<br />enough to keep my guard intact because<br />I was always thinking about Bill. It was lucky there weren't many customers,<br />or I would have heard<br />unwanted thoughts galore. As it was, I found out Arlene's period was late, and she was scared she was<br />pregnant, and before I could stop myself I gave her a hug. She stared at me searchingly and then turned<br />red in the face.<br />"Did you read my mind, Sookie?" she asked, warning written in her voice. Arlene was one of the few<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />people who simply acknowledged my ability without trying to explain it or categorizing me as a freak for<br />possessing such an ability. She also didn't talk about it often or in any normal voice, I'd noticed.<br />"Sorry, I didn't mean to," I apologized. "I'm just not focused<br />today."<br />"All right, then. You stay out from now on, though." AndArlene, her naming curls bobbing around her<br />cheeks, shook her finger in my face.<br />I felt like crying. "Sorry," I said again and strode off into the storeroom to collect myself. I had to pull my<br />face straight and hold in those tears.<br />I heard the door open behind me.<br />"Hey, I said I was sorry, Arlene!" I snapped, wanting to be left alone. Sometimes Arlene confused<br />telepathy with psychic<br />talent. I was scared she'd ask me if she wasreally pregnant.<br />She'd be better off<br />buying an early home pregnancy kit.<br />"Sookie." It was Sam. He turned me around with a hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong?"<br />His voice was gentle and pushed me much closer to tears.<br />"You should sound mean so I won't cry!" I said.<br />He laughed, not a big laugh, a small one. He put an arm around me.<br />"What's the matter?" He wasn't going to give up and go away.<br />"Oh, I..." and I stopped dead. I'd never, ever explicitly discussed my problem (that's how I thought of it)<br />with Sam or anyone else. Everyone in Bon Temps knew the rumors about why I was strange, but no one<br />seemed to realize that I had to listen to their mental clatter nonstop, whether I wanted to or not—every<br />day, the yammer yammer yammer<br />...<br />"Did you hear something that bothered you?" His voice was quiet and matter-of-fact. He touched the<br />middle of my forhead, to indicate he knew exactly how I could "hear."<br />"Yes."<br />"Can't help it, can you?"<br />"Nope."<br />"Hate it, don't you, cher?"<br />"Oh, yes."<br />"Not your fault then, is it?"<br />"I try not to listen, but I can't always keep my guard up." I felt a tear I hadn't been able to quell start<br />trickling down my cheek.<br />"Is that how you do it? How do you keep your guard up, Sookie?"<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />He sounded really interested, not as though he thought I was a basket case. I looked up, not very far,<br />into Sam's prominent, brilliant blue eyes.<br />"I just... it's hard to describe unless you can do it... I pull up a fence—no, not a fence, it's like I'm<br />snapping together<br />steel plates—between my brain and all others."<br />"You have to hold the plates up?"<br />"Yes. It takes a lot of concentration. It's like dividing my mind all the time. That's why people think I'm<br />crazy. Half my brain is trying to keep the steel plates up, and die other half might be taking drink orders,<br />so sometimes there's not a lot left over for coherent conversation." What a gush of relief I was feeling,<br />just being able to talk about it.<br />"Do you hear words or just get impressions?"<br />"Depends on who I'm listening to. And their state. If they're drunk, or really disturbed, it's just pictures,<br />impressions,<br />intentions. If they're sober and sane it's words and some pictures."<br />"The vampire says you can't hear him."<br />The idea of Bill and Sam having a conversation about me made me feel very peculiar. "That's true," I<br />admitted.<br />"Is that relaxing to you?"<br />"Oh,yes." I meant it from my heart.<br />"Can you hear me, Sookie?"<br />"I don't want to try!" I said hastily. I moved to the door of the storeroom and stood with my hand on the<br />knob. I pulled a tissue from my shorts pocket and patted the tear track off my cheek. "I'll have to quit if I<br />read your mind, Sam! I like you, I like it here."<br />"Just try it sometime, Sookie," he said casually, turning to open a carton of whiskey with the razor-edged<br />box cutter he kept in his pocket. "Don't worry about me. You have a job as long as you want one."<br />I wiped down a table Jason had spilled salt on. He'd been in earlier to eat a hamburger and fries and<br />down a couple of beers.<br />I was turning over Sam's offer in my mind.<br />I wouldn't try to listen to him today. He was ready for me. I'd wait when he was busy doing something<br />else. I'djust sort of slip in and give him a listen. He'd invited me, which was absolutely unique.<br />It was kind of nice to be invited.<br />I repaired my makeup and brushed my hair. I'd worn it loose, since Bill had seemed to like that, and a<br />darn nuisance it had been all evening. It was just about time to go, so I retrieved my purse from its<br />drawer in Sam's office.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />THE COMPTON HOUSE, like Gran's, was set back from the road. It was a bit more visible from the<br />parish road than hers, and it had a view of the cemetery, which her house didn't. This was due (at least in<br />part) to the Compton house's higher setting. It was on top of a knoll and it was fully two-storied. Gran's<br />house had a couple of spare bedrooms upstairs,<br />and an attic, but it was more like half a top story.<br />At one point in the family's long history, the Comptons had had a very nice house. Even in the dark, it<br />had a certain graciousness. But I knew in the daylight you could see the pillars were peeling, the wood<br />siding was Crooked, and the yard was simply a jungle. In the humid warmth of Louisiana, yard growth<br />could get out of hand mighty quick, and old Mr. Compton had not been one to hire someone to do his<br />yard work. When he'd gotten too feeble, it had simply gone undone.<br />The circular drive hadn't gotten fresh gravel in many years, and my car lurched to the front door. I saw<br />that the house was all lit up, and I began to realize that the evening would not go like last evening. There<br />was another car parked in front of the house, a Lincoln Continental, white with a dark blue top. A<br />blue-on-white bumper sticker readvampires<br />suck. A red and yellow one statedhonk if you're a blood<br />donor! The vanity plate read, simply,fangs 1.<br />If Bill already had company, maybe I should just go on home.<br />But I had been invited and was expected. Hesitantly, I raised my hand and knocked.<br />The door was opened by a female vampire.<br />She glowed like crazy. She was at least five feet eleven and black. She was wearing spandex. An<br />exercise bra inflamingo pink and matching calf-length leggings, with a man's white dress shirt flung on<br />unbuttoned, constituted the vampire's ensemble.<br />I thought she looked cheap as hell and most likely absolutely<br />mouthwatering from a male point of view.<br />"Hey, little human chick," the vampire purred.<br />And all of a sudden I realized I was in danger. Bill had warned me repeatedly that not all vampires were<br />like him, and he had moments when he was not so nice, himself. I couldn't read this creature's mind, but I<br />could hear cruelty in her voice.<br />Maybe she had hurt Bill. Maybe she was his lover.<br />All of this passed through my mind in a rush, but none of it showed on my face. I've had years of<br />experience in controlling<br />my face. I could feel my bright smile snap on protectively,<br />my spine<br />straightened, and I said cheerfully, "Hi! I was supposed to drop by tonight and give Bill some<br />information.<br />Is he available?"<br />The female vampire laughed at me, which was nothing I wasn't used to. My smile notched up a degree<br />brighter. This critter radiated danger the way a light bulb gives off heat.<br />"This little human gal here says she has some information for you, Bill!" she yelled over her (slim, brown,<br />beautiful) shoulder.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />I tried not to let relief show in any way.<br />"You wanna see this little thing? Or shall I just give her a love bite?"<br />Over my dead body, I thought furiously, and then realized it might be just that.<br />I didn't hear Bill speak, but the vampire stood back, and I stepped into the old house. Running wouldn't<br />do any good; this vamp could undoubtedly bring me down before I'd gone five steps. And I hadn't laid<br />eyes on Bill, and I couldn't be sure he was all right until I saw him. I'd brave this out and hope for the<br />best. I'm pretty good at doing that.<br />The big front room was crammed with dark old furniture and people. No, not people, I realized after I'd<br />looked carefully;<br />two people, and two more strange vampires.<br />The two vampires were both male and white. One had a buzz cut and tattoos on every visible inch of his<br />skin. Theother was even taller than the woman, maybe six foot four, with a head of long rippling dark hair<br />and a magnificent build.<br />The humans were less impressive. The woman was blond and plump, thirty-five or older. She was<br />wearing maybe a pound too much makeup. She looked as worn as an old boot. The man was another<br />story. He was lovely, the prettiest man I'd ever seen. He couldn't have been more than twenty-one. He<br />was swarthy, maybe Hispanic, small and fine-boned. He wore denim cut-offs and nothing else. Except<br />for makeup. I took that in my stride, but I didn't find it appealing.<br />Then Bill moved and I saw him, standing in the shadows of the dark hall leading from the living room to<br />the back of the house. I looked at him, trying to get my bearings in this unexpected situation. To my<br />dismay, he didn't look at all reassuring. His face was very still, absolutely impenetrable. Though I couldn't<br />believe I was even thinking it, it would have been great at that point to have had a peek into his mind.<br />"Well, we can have a wonderful evening now," the longhaired<br />male vampire said. He sounded<br />delighted. "Is this a little friend of yours, Bill? She's so fresh."<br />I thought of a few choice words I'd learned from Jason.<br />"If you'll just excuse me and Bill a minute," I said very politely, as if this was a perfectly normal evening,<br />"I've been arranging for workmen for the house." I tried to sound businesslike<br />and impersonal, though<br />wearing shorts and a T-shirt and Nikes does not inspire professional respect. But I hoped I conveyed the<br />impression that nice people I encountered in the course of my working day could not possibly hold any<br />threat of danger.<br />"And we heard Bill was on a diet of synthetic blood only," said the tattooed vampire. "Guess we heard<br />wrong, Diane."<br />The female vampire cocked her head and gave me a long look. "I'm not so sure. She looks like a virgin<br />to me."<br />I didn't think Diane was talking hymens.<br />I took a few casual steps toward Bill, hoping like hell he would defend me if worst came to worst, but<br />finding myself not absolutely sure. I was still smiling, hoping he would speak, would move.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />And then he did. "Sookie is mine," he said, and his voice was so cold and smooth it wouldn't have made<br />a ripple in the water if it had been a stone.<br />I looked at him sharply, but I had enough brains to keep my mouth shut.<br />"How good you been taking care of our Bill?" Diane asked.<br />"None of your fucking business," I answered, using one of Jason's words and still smiling. I said I had a<br />temper.<br />There was a sharp little pause. Everyone, human and vampire,<br />seemed to examine me closely enough to<br />count the hairs on my arms. Then the tall male began to rock with laughter and the others followed suit.<br />While they were yukking it up, I moved a few feet closer to Bill. His dark eyes were fixed on me—he<br />wasn't laughing—and I got the distinct feeling he wished, just as much as I did, that I could read his mind.<br />He was in some danger, I could tell. And if he was, then I was.<br />"You have a funny smile," said the tall male thoughtfully. I'd liked him better when he was laughing.<br />"Oh, Malcolm," said Diane. "All human women look funny to you."<br />Malcolm pulled the human male to him and gave him a long kiss. I began to feel a little sick. That kind of<br />stuff is private. "This is true," Malcolm said, pulling away after a moment, to the small man's apparent<br />disappointment. "But there is something rare about this one. Maybe she has rich blood."<br />"Aw," said the blond woman, in a voice that could blister paint, "That's just crazy Sookie Stackhouse."<br />I looked at the woman with more attention. I recognized her at last, when I mentally erased a few miles<br />of hard road and half the makeup. Janella Lennox had worked at Merlotte's<br />for two weeks until Sam<br />had fired her. She'd moved to Monroe, Arlene had told me.<br />The male vampire with the tattoos put his arm around Janella<br />and rubbed her breasts. I could feel the<br />blood drain out of my face. I was disgusted. It got worse. Janella, as lost to decency as the vampire, put<br />her hand on his crotch and massaged.<br />At least I saw clearly that vampires can sure have sex. I was less than excited about that knowledge at<br />the moment.<br />Malcolm was watching me, and I'd showed my distaste. "She's innocent," he said to Bill, with a smile full<br />of anticipation.<br />"She's mine," Bill said again. This time his voice was more intense. If he'd been a rattlesnake his warning<br />could not have been clearer.<br />"Now, Bill, you can't tell me you've been getting everything<br />you need from that little thing," Diane said.<br />"You look pale and droopy. She ain't been taking good care of you." I inched a little closer to Bill.<br />"Here," offered Diane, whom I was beginning to hate, "have a taste of Liam's woman or Malcolm's<br />pretty boy, Jerry."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Janella didn't react to being offered around, maybe because<br />she was too busy unzipping Liam's jeans,<br />but Malcolm's<br />beautiful boyfriend, Jerry, slithered willingly over to Bill. I smiled as though my jaws were<br />going to crack as he wrapped his arms around Bill, nuzzled Bill's neck, rubbed his chest against Bill's<br />shirt.<br />The strain in my vampire's face was terrible to see. His fangs slid out. I saw them fully extended for the<br />first time. The synthetic blood was not answering all Bill's needs, all right.<br />Jerry began licking a spot at the base of Bill's neck. Keeping<br />my guard up was proving to be more than<br />I could handle. Since three present were vampires, whose thoughts I couldn't hear, and Janella was fully<br />occupied, that left Jerry. I listened and gagged.<br />Bill, shaking with temptation, was actually bending to sink his fangs into Jerry's neck when I said, "No!<br />He has the Sino-virus!"<br />As if released from a spell, Bill looked at me over Jerry's shoulder. He was breathing heavily, but his<br />fangs retracted. I took advantage of the moment by taking more steps. I was within a yard of Bill, now.<br />"Sino-AIDS," I said.<br />Alcoholic and heavily drugged victims affected vampirestemporarily, and some of them were said to<br />enjoy that buzz; but the blood of a human with full-blown AIDS didn't, nor did sexually transmitted<br />diseases, or any other bugs that plagued humans.<br />Except Sino-AIDS. Even Sino-AIDS didn't kill vampires as surely as the AIDS virus killed humans, but<br />it left the undead very weak for nearly a month, during which time it was comparatively easy to catch and<br />stake them. And every now and then, if a vampire fed from an infected human more than once, the<br />vampire actually died—redied?—without being<br />staked. Still rare in the United States, Sino-AIDS was<br />gaining a foothold around ports like New Orleans, with sailors<br />and other travelers from many countries<br />passing through the city in a partying mood.<br />All the vampires were frozen, staring at Jerry as if he were death in disguise; and for them, perhaps, he<br />was.<br />The beautiful young man took me completely by surprise. He turned and leapt on me. He was no<br />vampire, but he was strong, evidently only in the earliest stages of the virus, and he knocked me against<br />the wall to my left. He circled my throat with one hand and rifted the other to punch me in the face. My<br />arms were still coming up to defend myself when Jerry's hand was seized, and his body froze.<br />"Let go of her throat," Bill said in such a terrifying voice that I was scared myself. By now, the scares<br />were just piling up so quickly I didn't think I'd ever feel safe again. But Jerry's fingers didn't relax, and I<br />made a little whimpering sound without wanting to at all. I slewed my eyes sideways, and when I looked<br />at Jerry's gray face, I realized that Bill was holding his hand, Malcolm was gripping his legs, and Jerry<br />was so frightened he couldn't grasp what was wanted of him.<br />The room began to get fuzzy, and voices buzzed in and out. Jerry's mind was beating against mine. I was<br />helpless to hold him out. His mind was clouded with visions of the lover who had passed the virus to<br />Jerry, a lover who had left him for a vampire, a lover Jerry himself had murdered in a fit of jealous rage.<br />Jerry was seeing his death coming from the vampires he had wanted to kill, and he was not satisfied that<br />he had extracted enough vengeance with the vampires he had already infected.I could see Diane's face<br />over Jerry's shoulder, and she was smiling.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Bill broke Jerry's wrist.<br />He screamed and collapsed on the floor. The blood began surging into my head again, and I almost<br />fainted. Malcolm picked Jerry up and carried him over to the couch as casually as if Jerry were a<br />rolled-up rug. But Malcolm's face was not as casual. I knew Jerry would be lucky if he died quickly.<br />Bill stepped in front of me, taking Jerry's place. His fingers,<br />the fingers that had just broken Jerry's<br />wrist, massaged my neck as gently as my grandmother's would have done. He put a finger across my lips<br />to make sure I knew to keep silent.<br />Then, his arm around me, he turned to face the other vampires.<br />"This has all been very entertaining," Liam said. His voice was as cool as if Janella wasn't giving him a<br />truly intimate massage there on the couch. He hadn't troubled himself to budge during the whole incident.<br />He had newly visible tattoos<br />I could never in this world have imagined. I was sick to my stomach. "But I<br />think we should be driving back to Monroe. We have to have a little talk with Jerry when he wakes up,<br />right, Malcolm?"<br />Malcolm heaved the unconscious Jerry over his shoulder and nodded at Liam. Diane looked<br />disappointed.<br />"But fellas," she protested. "We haven't found out how this little gal knew."<br />The two male vampires simultaneously switched their gaze to me. Quite casually, Liam took a second off<br />to reach a climax. Yep, vampires could do it, all right. After a little sigh of completion, he said, "Thanks,<br />Janella. That's a good question,<br />Malcolm. As usual, our Diane has cut to the quick." And the three<br />visiting vampires laughed as if that was a very good joke, but I thought it was a scary one.<br />"You can't speak yet, can you, sweetheart?" Bill gave my shoulder a squeeze as he asked, as if I couldn't<br />get the hint.<br />I shook my head.<br />"I could probably make her talk," Diane offered.<br />"Diane, you forget," Bill said gently.<br />"Oh, yeah. She's yours," Diane said. But she didn't sound cowed or convinced.<br />"We'll have to visit some other time," Bill said, and his voice made it clear the others had to leave or fight<br />him.<br />Liam stood, zipped up his pants, gestured to his human woman. "Out, Janella, we're being evicted." The<br />tattoos rippled<br />across his heavy arms as he stretched. Janella ran her hands along his ribs as if she just<br />couldn't get enough of him, and he swatted her away as lightly as if she'd been a fly. She looked vexed,<br />but not mortified as I would have been. This was not new treatment for Janella.<br />Malcolm picked up Jerry and carried him out the front door without a word. If drinking from Jerry had<br />given him the virus, Malcolm was not yet impaired. Diane went last, slinging a purse over her shoulder<br />and casting a bright-eyed glance behind her.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"I'll leave you two lovebirds on your own, then. It's been fun, honey," she said lightly, and she slammed<br />the door behind<br />her.<br />The minute I heard the car start up outside, I fainted.<br />I'd never done so in my life, and I hoped never to again, but I felt I had some excuse.<br />I seemed to spend a lot of time around Bill unconscious. That was a crucial thought, and I knew it<br />deserved a lot of pondering, but not just at that moment. When I came to, everything I'd seen and heard<br />rushed back, and I gagged for real. Immediately Bill bent me over the edge of the couch. But I managed<br />to keep my food down, maybe because there wasn't much in my stomach.<br />"Do vampires act like that?" I whispered. My throat was sore and bruised where Jerry had squeezed it.<br />"They were horrible."<br />"I tried to catch you at the bar when I found out you weren't at home," Bill said. His voice was empty.<br />"But you'd left."<br />Though I knew it wouldn't help a thing, I began crying. I was sure Jerry was dead by now, and I felt I<br />should have done something about that, but I couldn't have kept silent when he was about to infect Bill.<br />So many things about this short episode had upset me so deeply that I didn't knowwhere to begin being<br />upset. In maybe fifteen minutes I'd been in fear of my life, in fear for Bill's life (well—existence),<br />made to<br />witness sex acts that should be strictly private,<br />seen my potential sweetie in the throes of blood lust<br />(emphasis on lust), and nearly been choked to death by a diseased hustler.<br />On second thought, I gave myself full permission to cry. I sat up and wept and mopped my face with a<br />handkerchief Bill handed me. My curiosity about why a vampire would need a handkerchief was just a<br />little flicker of normality, drenched by the flood of my nervous tears.<br />Bill had enough sense not to put his arms around me. He sat on the floor, and had the grace to keep his<br />eyes averted while I mopped myself dry.<br />"When vampires live in nests," he said suddenly, "they often become more cruel because they egg each<br />other on. They see others like themselves constantly, and so they are reminded of how far from being<br />human they are. They become<br />laws unto themselves. Vampires like me, who live alone, are a little better<br />reminded of their former humanity."<br />I listened to his soft voice, going slowly through his thoughts as he made an attempt to explain the<br />unexplainable to me.<br />"Sookie, our life is seducing and taking and has been for centuries, for some of us. Synthetic blood and<br />grudging human<br />acceptance isn't going to change that overnight—or over a decade. Diane and Liam and<br />Malcolm have been together<br />for fifty years."<br />"How sweet," I said, and my voice held something I'd never heard from myself before: bitterness. "Their<br />golden wedding anniversary."<br />"Can you forget about this?" Bill asked. His huge dark eyes came closer and closer. His mouth was<br />about two inches from mine.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"I don't know." The words jerked out of me. "Do you know, I didn't know if you could do it?"<br />His eyebrows rose interrogatively. "Do ... ?"<br />"Get—" and I stopped, trying to think of a pleasant way to put it. I'd seen more crudity this evening than<br />I'd seen inmy lifetime, and I didn't want to add to it. "An erection," I said, avoiding his eyes.<br />"You know better now." He sounded like he was trying not to be amused. "We can have sex, but we<br />can't make children or have them. Doesn't it make you feel better, that Diane can't have a baby?"<br />My fuses blew. I opened my eyes and looked at him steadily.<br />"Don't—you—laugh—at—me."<br />"Oh, Sookie," he said, and his hand rose to touch my cheek.<br />I dodged his hand and struggled to my feet. He didn't help me, which was a good thing, but he sat on the<br />floor watching me with a still, unreadable face. Bill's fangs had retracted, but I knew he was still suffering<br />from hunger. Too bad.<br />My purse was on the floor by the front door. I wasn't walking very steadily, but I was walking. I pulled<br />the list of electricians out of a pocket and lay it on a table.<br />"I have to go."<br />He was in front of me suddenly. He'd done one of those vampire things again. "Can I kiss you<br />good-bye?" he asked, his hands down at his sides, making it so obvious he wouldn't touch me until I said<br />green light.<br />"No," I said vehemently. "I can't stand it after them."<br />"I'll come see you."<br />"Yes. Maybe."<br />He reached past me to open the door, but I thought he was reaching for me, and I flinched.<br />I spun on my heel and almost ran to my car, tears blurring my vision again. I was glad the drive home<br />was so short.<br />Chapter3<br />THE PHONE WAS ringing. I pulled my pillow over my head. Surely Gran would get it? As the irritating<br />noise persisted,<br />I realized Gran must be gone shopping or outside working in the yard. I began<br />squirming to the bed table, not happy but resigned. With the headache and regrets of someone<br />who has<br />a terrible hangover (though mine was emotional rather than alcohol induced) I stretched out a shaky hand<br />and grabbed the receiver.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Yes?" I asked. It didn't come out quite right. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Hello?" "Sookie?"<br />"Urn-hum. Sam?"<br />"Yeah. Listen, cher, do me a favor?" "What?" I was due to work today anyway, and I didn't want to<br />hold down Dawn's shift and mine, too.<br />"Go by Dawn's place, and see what she's up to, would you? She won't answer her phone, and she<br />hasn't come in. The delivery truck just pulled up, and I got to tell these guys where to put stuff."<br />"Now? You want me to go now?" My old bed had never held on to me harder.<br />"Could you?" For the first time, he seemed to grasp my unusual mood. I had never refused Sam<br />anything.<br />"I guess so," I said, feeling tired all over again at the very idea. I wasn't too crazy about Dawn, and she<br />wasn't too crazy about me. She was convinced I'd read her mind and told Jason something she'd been<br />thinking about him, which had cause him to break up with her. If I took that kind of interest in Jason's<br />romances, I'd never have time to eat or sleep.<br />I showered and pulled on my work clothes, moving sluggishly.<br />All my bounce had gone flat, like soda<br />with the top left off. I ate cereal and brushed my teeth and told Gran where I was going when I tracked<br />her down; she'd been outside planting petunias in a tub by the back door. She didn't seem to understand<br />exactly what I meant, but smiled and waved anyway. Gran was getting a little more deaf every week, but<br />I realized that was no great wonder since she was seventy-eight. It was marvelous that she was so strong<br />and healthy, and her brain was sound as a bell.<br />As I went on my unwelcome errand, I thought about how hard it must have been for Gran to raise two<br />more children after she'd already raised her own. My father, her son, had died when I was seven and<br />Jason ten. When I'd been twenty-three, Gran's daughter, my Aunt Linda, had died of uterine cancer.<br />Aunt Linda's girl, Hadley, had vanished into the same subculture that had spawned the Rattrays even<br />before Aunt Linda had passed away, and to this day we didn't know if Hadley realizes her mother is<br />dead. That was a lot of grief to get through, yet Gran had always been strong for us.<br />I peered through my windshield at the three small duplexes on one side of Berry Street, a run-down<br />block or two that ran behind the oldest part of downtown Bon Temps. Dawn lived in one of them. I<br />spotted her car, a green compact, in the driveway of one of the better-kept houses, and pulled in behind<br />it. Dawn had already put a hanging basket of begonias by her front door, but they looked dry. I<br />knocked.<br />I waited for a minute or two. I knocked again.<br />"Sookie, you need some help?" The voice sounded familiar.<br />I turned around and shielded my eyes from<br />the morning sun. Rene Lenier was standing by his pickup, parked across the street at one of the small<br />frame houses that populated the rest of the neighborhood.<br />"Well," I began, not sure if I needed help or not, or if I did that Rene could supply it. "Have you seen<br />Dawn? She didn't come to work today, and she never called in yesterday. Sam asked me to stop by."<br />"Sam should come do his own dirty work," Rene said, which perversely made me defend my boss.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Truck came in, had to be unloaded." I turned and knocked again. "Dawn," I yelled. "Come let me in." I<br />looked down at the concrete porch. The pine pollen had begun falling two days ago. Dawn's porch was<br />solid yellow. Mine were the only footprints. My scalp began to prickle.<br />I barely registered the fact that Rene stood awkwardly by the door to his pickup, unsure whether to stay<br />or go.<br />Dawn's duplex was a one-story, quite small, and the door to the other half was just feet away from<br />Dawn's. Its little driveway was empty, and there were no curtains at the windows.<br />It looked as though<br />Dawn was temporarily out of a neighbor. Dawn had been proud enough to hang curtains, white with dark<br />gold flowers. They were drawn, but the fabric<br />was thin and unlined, and Dawn hadn't shut the cheap<br />one-inch aluminum blinds. I peered in and discovered the living room held only some flea-market<br />furniture. A coffee mug sat on the table by a lumpy recliner and an old couch covered with a<br />hand-crocheted afghan was pushed against the wall.<br />"I think I'll go around back," I called to Rene. He started across the street as though I'd given him a<br />signal, and I stepped off the front porch. My feet brushed the dusty grass, yellow with pine pollen, and I<br />knew I'd have to dust off my shoes and maybe change my socks before work. During pine pollen<br />season, everything turns yellow. Cars, plants, roofs, windows, all are powdered with a golden haze. The<br />ponds and pools of rainwater have yellow scum around the edges.<br />Dawn's bathroom window was so discreetly high that I couldn't see in. She'd lowered the blinds in the<br />bedroom, but hadn't closed them tightly. I could see a little through the slats. Dawn was in bed on her<br />back. The bedclothes were tossed around wildly. Her legs were spraddled. Her face was swollen and<br />discolored, and her tongue protruded from her mouth. There were flies crawling on it.<br />I could hear Rene coming up behind me.<br />"Go call the police," I said.<br />"What you say, Sookie? You see her?"<br />"Gocall the police!"<br />"Okay, okay!" Rene beat a hasty retreat.<br />Some female solidarity had made me not want Rene to see Dawn like that, without Dawn's consent.<br />And my fellow waitress was far beyond consenting.<br />I stood with my back to the window, horribly tempted to look again in the futile hope I'd made a mistake<br />the first time. Staring at the duplex next door to Dawn's, maybe a scant six feet away, I wondered how<br />its tenants could have avoided hearing Dawn's death, which had been violent.<br />Here came Rene again. His weatherbeaten face was puckered<br />into an expression of deep concern, and<br />his bright brown eyes looked suspiciously shiney.<br />"Would you call Sam, too?" I asked. Without a word, he turned and trudged back to his place. He was<br />being mighty good. Despite his tendency to gossip, Rene had always been one to help where he saw a<br />need. I remembered him coming out to the house to help Jason hang Gran's porch swing, a random<br />memory of a day far different from this.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />The duplex next door was just like Dawn's, so I was looking<br />directly at its bedroom window. Now a<br />face appeared, and the window was raised. A tousled head poked out. "What you doing, Sookie<br />Stackhouse?" asked a slow, deep, male voice. I peered at him for a minute, finally placing the face, while<br />trying not to look too closely at the fine, bare chest underneath.<br />"JB?"<br />"Sure thing."<br />I'd gone to high school with JB du Rone. In fact, some of my few dates had been with JB, who was<br />lovely but so simple<br />that he didn't care if I read his mind or not. Even under today's circumstances, I<br />could appreciate JB's beauty. When your hormones have been held in check as long as mine, it doesn't<br />take much to set them off. I heaved a sigh at the sight of JB's muscular arms and pectorals.<br />"What you doing out here?" he asked again.<br />"Something bad seems to have happened to Dawn," I said,not knowing if I should tell him or not. "My<br />boss sent me here to look for her when she didn't come to work."<br />"She in there?" JB simply scrambled out of the window. He had some shorts on, cut-offs.<br />"Please don't look," I asked, holding up my hand and without warning I began crying. I was doing that a<br />lot lately, too. "She looks so awful, JB."<br />"Aw, honey," he said, and bless his country heart, he put an arm around me and patted me on the<br />shoulder. If there was a female around who needed comforting, by God, that was a priority to JB du<br />Rone.<br />"Dawn liked 'em rough," he said consolingly, as if that would explain everything.<br />It might to some people, but not to unworldly me. "What, rough?" I asked, hoping I hada tissue in my<br />shorts pocket.<br />I looked up at JB to see him turn a little red. "Honey, she liked ... aw, Sookie, you don't need to hear<br />this."<br />I had a widespread reputation for virtue, which I found somewhat ironic. At the moment, it was<br />inconvenient.<br />"You can tell me, I worked with her," I said, and JB nodded<br />solemnly, as if that made sense.<br />"Well, honey, she liked men to—like, bite and hit her." JB looked weirded out by this preference of<br />Dawn's. I must have made a face because he said, "I know, I can't understand<br />why some people like<br />that, either." JB, never one to ignore an opportunity to make hay, put both arms around me and kept up<br />the patting, but it seemed to concentrate on the middle of my back (checking to see if I was wearing a<br />bra) and then quite a bit lower (JB liked firm rear ends, I remembered.)<br />A lot of questions hovered on the edge of my tongue, but they remained shut inside my mouth. The<br />police got there, in the persons of Kenya Jones and Kevin Prior. When the town police chief had<br />partnered Kenya and Kevin, he'd been indulging his sense of humor, the town figured, for Kenya was at<br />least five foot eleven, the color of bitter chocolate, and built to weather hurricanes. Kevin possibly made<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />it up to five foot eight, had freckles over every visible inch of hispale body, and had the narrow, fatless<br />build of a runner. Oddly enough, the two K's got along very well, though they'd had some memorable<br />quarrels.<br />Now they both looked like cops.<br />"What's this about, Miss Stackhouse?" Kenya asked. "Rene says something happened to Dawn Green?"<br />She'd scanned JB while she talked, and Kevin was looking at the ground all around us. I had no idea<br />why, but I was sure there was a good police reason.<br />"My boss sent me here to find out why Dawn missed work yesterday and hadn't shown up today," I<br />said. "I knocked on her door, and she didn't answer, but her car was here. I was worried about her, so I<br />started around the house looking in the windows, and she's in there." I pointed behind them, and the two<br />officers turned to look at the window. Then they looked at each other and nodded as if they'd had a<br />whole conversation. While Kenya went over to the window, Kevin went around to the back door.<br />JB had forgotten to pat while he watched the officers work. In fact, his mouth was a little open, revealing<br />perfect teeth. He wanted to go look through the window more than anything,<br />but he couldn't shoulder<br />past Kenya, who pretty much took up whatever space was available.<br />I didn't want my own thoughts any more. I relaxed, dropping<br />my guard, and listened to the thoughts of<br />others. Out of the clamor, I picked one thread and concentrated on it.<br />Kenya Jones turned back to stare through us without seeing<br />us. She was thinking of everything she and<br />Kevin needed to do to keep the investigation as textbook perfect as Bon Temps patrol officers could.<br />She was thinking she'd heard bad things about Dawn and her liking for rough sex. She was thinking that it<br />was no surprise Dawn had met a bad end, though she felt sorry for anyone who ended up with flies<br />crawling on her face. Kenya was thinking she was sorry she'd eaten that extra doughnut that morning at<br />the Nut Hut because it might come back up and that would shame her as a black woman police officer.<br />I tuned in to another channel.<br />JB was thinking about Dawn getting killed during rough sex just a few feet away from him, and while it<br />was awfulit was also a little exciting and Sookie was still built wonderful.<br />He wished he could screw her<br />right now. She was so sweet and nice. He was pushing away the humiliation he'd felt when Dawn had<br />wanted him to hit her, and he couldn't, and it was an old humiliation. I switched.<br />Kevin came around the corner thinking that he and Kenya better not botch any evidence and that he was<br />glad no one knew he'd ever slept with Dawn Green. He was furious that someone had killed a woman he<br />knew, and he was hoping it wasn't a black man because that would make his relationship<br />with Kenya<br />even more tense. I switched.<br />Rene Lenier was wishing someone would come and get the body out of the house. He was hoping no<br />one knew he'd slept with Dawn Green. I couldn't spell out his thoughts exactly,<br />they were very black<br />and snarled. Some people I can't get a clear reading on. He was very agitated.<br />Sam came hurrying toward me, slowing down when he saw JB was touching me. I could not read Sam's<br />thoughts. I could feel his emotions (right now a mix of worry, concern, and anger) but I could not spell<br />out one single thought. This was so fascinating and unexpected that I stepped out of JB's embrace,<br />wanting to go up to Sam and grab his arms and look into his eyes and really probe around in his head. I<br />remembered when he'd touched me, and I'd shied away. Now hefelt me in his head and though he kept<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />on walking toward me, his mind flinched back. Despite his invitation to me, he hadn't known I would see<br />he was different from others:<br />I picked up on that until he shut me down.<br />I'd never felt anything like it. It was like an iron door slamming. In my face.<br />I'd been on the point of reaching out to him instinctively, but my hand dropped to my side. Sam<br />deliberately looked at Kevin, not at me.<br />"What's happening, Officer?" Sam asked. "We're going to break into this house, Mr. Merlotte, unless<br />you have a master key." Why would Sam have a key? "He's my landlord," JB said in my ear, and I<br />jumped.<br />"He is?" I asked stupidly.<br />"He owns all three duplexes."<br />Sam had been fishing in his pocket, and now he came up with a bunch of keys. He flipped through them<br />expertly, stopping<br />at one and singling it out, getting it off the ring and handing it to Kevin.<br />'This fits front and back?" Kevin asked. Sam nodded. He still wasn't looking at me.<br />Kevin went to the back door of the duplex, out of sight, and we were all so quiet we could hear the key<br />turn in the lock. Then he was in the bedroom with the dead woman, and we could see his face twist when<br />the smell hit him. Holding one hand across his mouth and nose, he bent over the body and put his fingers<br />on her neck. He looked out the window then and shook his head at his partner. Kenya nodded and<br />headed out to the street to use the radio in the patrol car.<br />"Listen, Sookie, how about going to dinner with me tonight?"<br />JB asked. "This has been tough on you,<br />and you need some fun to make up for it."<br />"Thanks, JB." I was very conscious of Sam listening. "It's really nice of you to ask. But I have a feeling<br />I'm going to be working extra hours today."<br />For just a second, JB's handsome face was blank. Then comprehension filtered in. "Yeah, Sam's gotta<br />hire someone else," he observed. "I got a cousin in Springhill needs a job. Maybe I'll give her a call. We<br />could live right next door to each other, now."<br />I smiled at him, though I am sure it was a very weak smile, as I stood shoulder to shoulder with the man<br />I'd worked with for two years.<br />"I'm sorry, Sookie," he said quietly.<br />"For what?" My own voice was just as low. Was he going to acknowledge what had passed between<br />us—or rather, failed to pass?<br />"For sending you to check on Dawn. I should have come myself. I was sure she was just shacked up<br />with someone new and needed a reminder that she was supposed to be working. The last time I had to<br />come get her, she yelled at me so much I just didn't want to deal with it again. So like a coward, I sent<br />you, and you had to find her like that."<br />"You're full of surprises, Sam."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />He didn't turn to look at me or make any reply. But his fingers folded around mine. For a long moment,<br />we stood in the sun with people buzzing around us, holding hands. His palm was hot and dry, and his<br />fingers were strong. I felt I had truly connected with another human. But then his grip loosened, and Sam<br />stepped over to talk with the detective, who was emerging from his car, and JB began asking me how<br />Dawn had looked, and the world fell back into its same old groove.<br />The contrast was cruel. I felt tired all over again, and remembered<br />the night before in more detail than I<br />wanted to. The world seemed a bad and terrible place, all its denizens suspect, and I the lamb wandering<br />through the valley of death with a bell around my neck. I stomped over to my car and opened the door,<br />sank sideways into the seat. I'd be standing plenty today; I'd sit while I could.<br />JB followed me. Now that he'd rediscovered me, he could not be detached. I remembered when Gran<br />had had high hopes for some permanent relationship between us, when I'd been in high school. But<br />talking to JB, even reading his mind, was as interesting as a kindergarten primer was to an adult reader. It<br />was one of God's jokes that such a dumb mind had been put in such an eloquent body.<br />He knelt before me and took my hand. I found myself hoping that some smart rich lady would come<br />along and marry JB and take care of him and enjoy what he had to offer. She would be getting a bargain.<br />"Where are you working now?" I asked him, just to distract<br />myself.<br />"My dad's warehouse," he said.<br />That was the job of last resort, the one JB always returned to when he got fired from other jobs for<br />doing something lamebrained, or for not showing up, or for offending some supervisor mortally. JB's dad<br />ran an auto parts store.<br />"How are your folks doing?"<br />"Oh, fine. Sookie, we should do something together."<br />Don't tempt me, I thought.<br />Someday my hormones were going to get the better of me and I'd do something I'd regret; and I could<br />do worse thando it with JB. But I would hold out and hope for something better. "Thanks, honey," I said.<br />"Maybe we will. But I'm kind of upset right now."<br />"Are you in love with that vampire?" he asked directly.<br />"Where did you hear that?"<br />"Dawn said so." JB's face clouded as he remembered Dawn was dead. What Dawn had said, I found<br />on scanning JB's mind, was "That new vampire is interested in Sookie Stackhouse. I'd be better for him.<br />He needs a woman who can take some rough treatment. Sookie would scream if he touched her."<br />It was pointless being mad at a dead person, but briefly I indulged myself by doing just that.<br />Then the detective was walking toward us, and JB got to his feet and moved away.<br />The detective took JB's position, squatting on the ground in front of me. I must look in bad shape.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Miss Stackhouse?" he asked. He was using that quiet intense<br />voice many professionals adopt in a<br />crisis. "I'm Andy Bellefleur." The Bellefleurs had been around Bon Temps as long as there'd been a Bon<br />Temps, so I wasn't amused at a man being "beautiful flower." In fact, I felt sorry for whoever thought it<br />was amusing as I looked down at the block of muscle that was Detective Bellefleur. This particular family<br />member had graduated before Jason, and I'd been one class behind his sister Portia.<br />He'd been placing me, too. "Your brother doing okay?" he asked, his voice still quiet, not quite as<br />neutral. It sounded like he'd had a run-in or two with Jason.<br />"The little I see of him, he's doing fine," I answered.<br />"And your grandmother?"<br />I smiled. "She's out planting flowers this morning."<br />"That's wonderful," he said, doing that sincere head shake that's supposed to indicate admiring<br />amazement. "Now, I understand that you work at Merlotte's?"<br />"Yes."<br />"And so did Dawn Green?"<br />"Yes."<br />"When was the last time you saw Dawn?"<br />"Two days ago. At work." I already felt exhausted. Without shifting my feet from the ground or my arm<br />from the steering wheel, I lay my head sideways on the headrest of the driver's seat.<br />"Did you talk to her then?"<br />I tried to remember. "I don't think so."<br />"Were you close to Miss Green?"<br />"No."<br />"And why did you come here today?"<br />I explained about working for Dawn yesterday, about Sam's phone call this morning.<br />"Did Mr. Merlotte tell you why he didn't want to come here himself?"<br />"Yes, a truck was there to unload. Sam has to show the guys where to put the boxes." Sam also did a<br />lot of the unloading himself, half the time, to speed up the process.<br />"Do you think Mr. Merlotte had any relationship with Dawn?"<br />"He was her boss."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"No, outside work."<br />"Nope."<br />"You sound pretty positive."<br />"I am."<br />"Do you have a relationship with Sam?"<br />"No."<br />"Then how are you so sure?"<br />Good question. Because from time to time I'd heard thoughts that indicated that if she didn't hate Sam,<br />Dawn sure as hell wasn't real fond of him? Not too smart a thing to tell the detective.<br />"Sam keeps everything real professional at the bar," I said. It sounded lame, even to me. It just<br />happened to be the truth.<br />"Did you know anything about Dawn's personal life?"<br />"No."<br />"You weren't friendly?"<br />"Not particularly." My thoughts drifted as the detective bent his head in thought. At least that was what it<br />looked like.<br />"Why is that?"<br />"I guess we didn't have anything in common."<br />"Like what? Give me an example."<br />I sighed heavily, blowing my lips out in exasperation. If we didn't have anything in common, how could I<br />give him an example?<br />"Okay," I said slowly. "Dawn had a real active social life, and she liked to be with men. She wasn't so<br />crazy about spending time with women. Her family is from Monroe, so she didn't have family ties here.<br />She drank, and I don't. I read a lot, and she didn't. That enough?"<br />Andy Bellefleur scanned my face to see if I was giving him attitude. He must have been reassured by<br />what he saw.<br />"So, you two didn't ever see each other after working hours?"<br />"That's correct."<br />"Doesn't it seem strange to you that Sam Merlotte asked you to check on Dawn, then?"<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"No, not at all," I said stoutly. At least, it didn't seem strange now, after Sam's description of Dawn's<br />tantrum. "This is on my way to the bar, and I don't have children like Arlene, the other waitress on our<br />shift. So it would be easier for me." That was pretty sound, I thought. If I said Dawn had screamed at<br />Sam the last time he'd been here, that would give exactly the wrong impression.<br />"What did you do after work two days ago, Sookie?"<br />"I didn't come to work. I had the day off."<br />"And your plan for that day was—?"<br />"I sunbathed and helped Gran clean house, and we had company."<br />"Who would that be?"<br />"That would be Bill Compton."<br />"The vampire."<br />"Right."<br />"How late was Mr. Compton at your house?"<br />"I don't know. Maybe midnight or one."<br />"How did he seem to you?"<br />"He seemed fine."<br />"Edgy? Irritated?"<br />"No."<br />"Miss Stackhouse, we need to talk to you more at the station house. This is going to take awhile, here,<br />as you can see."<br />"Okay, I guess."<br />"Can you come in a couple of hours?"<br />I looked at my wristwatch. "If Sam doesn't need me to work."<br />"You know, Miss Stackhouse, this really takes precedence over working at a bar."<br />Okay, I was pissed off. Not because he thought murder investigations were more important than getting<br />to work on time; I agreed with him, there. It was his unspoken prejudice against my particular job.<br />"You may not think my job amounts to much, but it's one I'm good at, and I like it. I am as worthy of<br />respect as your sister, the lawyer, Andy Bellefleur, and don't you forget it. I am not stupid, and I am not a<br />slut."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />The detective turned red, slowly and unattractively. "I apologize," Andy said stiffly. He was still trying to<br />deny the old connection, the shared high school, the knowledge of each other's family. He was thinking<br />he should have been a detective in another town, where he could treat people the way he thought a<br />police officer should.<br />"No, you'll be a better detective here if you can get over that attitude," I told him. His gray eyes flared<br />wide in shock, and I was childishly glad I'd rocked him, though I was sure I would pay for it sooner or<br />later. I always did when I gave people a peek at my disability.<br />Mostly, people couldn't get away from me fast enough when I'd given them a taste of mind reading, but<br />Andy Bellefleur<br />was fascinated. "It's true, then," he breathed, as if we were somewhere alone instead of<br />sitting in the driveway of a rundown duplex in rural Louisiana.<br />"No, forget it," I said quickly. "I can just tell sometimes by the way people look what they're thinking."<br />He deliberately thought about unbuttoning my blouse. But I was wary now, back to my normal state of<br />barricaded seige, and I did no more than smile brightly. I could tell I wasn't fooling him, though.<br />"When you're ready for me, you come to the bar. We can talk in the storeroom or Sam's office," I said<br />firmly and swung my legs into the car.<br />The bar was buzzing when I got there. Sam had calledTerry Bellefleur, Andy's second cousin if I<br />recalled correctly, in to watch the bar while he talked to the police at Dawn's place. Terry had had a bad<br />war in Vietnam, and he existed narrowly on government disability of some kind. He'd been wounded,<br />captured, held prisoner for two years, and now his thoughts were most often so scary that I was extra<br />special careful when I was around him. Terry had a hard life, and acting normal was even harder for him<br />than it was for me. Terry didn't drink, thank God.<br />Today I gave him a light kiss on the cheek while I got my tray and scrubbed my hands. Through the<br />window into the little kitchen I could see Lafayette Reynold, the cook, flipping<br />burgers and sinking a<br />basket of fries into hot oil. Merlotte's<br />serves a few sandwiches, and that's all. Sam doesn't want to run a<br />restaurant, but a bar with some food available.<br />"What was that for, not that I'm not honored," Terry said. He'd raised his eyebrows. Terry was<br />redhaired, though when he needed a shave, I could tell his whiskers were gray. Terry spent a lot of time<br />outside, but his skin never exactly tanned. It got a rough, reddened look, which made the scars on his left<br />cheek stand out more clearly. That didn't seem to bother Terry. Arlene had been to bed with Terry one<br />night when she'd been drinking, and she'd confided in me that Terry had many scars even worse than the<br />one on his cheek.<br />"Just for being here," I said.<br />"It true about Dawn?"<br />Lafayette put two plates on the serving hatch. He winked at me with a sweep of his thick, false lashes.<br />Lafayette wears a lot of makeup. I was so used to him I never thought of it any more, but now his eye<br />shadow brought the boy, Jerry, to my mind. I'd let him go with the three vampires without protest. That<br />had probably been wrong, but realistic. I couldn't have stopped them from taking him. I couldn't have<br />gotten the police to catch up with them in time. He was dying anyway, and he was taking as many<br />vampires and humans with him as he could; and he was already a killer himself. I told my conscience this<br />would be the last talk we'd have about Jerry.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Arlene, burgers up," Terry called, jerking me back into the here and how. Arlene came over to grab the<br />plates. Shegave me a look that said she was going to pump me dry at the first chance she got. Charlsie<br />Tooten was working, too. She filled in when one of the regular women got sick or just didn't show. I<br />hoped Charlsie would take Dawn's place full-time. I'd always liked her.<br />"Yeah, Dawn's dead," I told Terry. He didn't seem to mind my long pause.<br />"What happened to her?"<br />"I don't know, but it wasn't peaceful." I'd seen blood on the sheets, not a lot, but some.<br />"Maudette," Terry said, and I instantly understood.<br />"Maybe," I said. It sure was possible that whoever had done in Dawn was the same person who'd killed<br />Maudette.<br />Of course, everyone in Renard Parish came in that day, if not for lunch, then for an afternoon cup of<br />coffee or a beer. If they couldn't make their work schedule bend around that, they waited until they<br />clocked out and came in on their way home. Two young women in our town murdered in one month?<br />You bet people wanted to talk.<br />Sam returned about two, with heat radiating off his body and sweat trickling down his face from standing<br />out in the shadeless yard at the crime scene. He told me that Andy Bellefleur had said he was coming to<br />talk to me again soon.<br />"I don't know why," I said, maybe a tad sullenly. "I never hung around with Dawn. What happened to<br />her, did they tell you?"<br />"Someone strangled her after beating on her a little," Sam said. "But she had some old tooth marks, too.<br />Like Maudette."<br />"There are lots of vampires, Sam," I said, answering his unspoken comment.<br />"Sookie." His voice was so serious and quiet. It made me remember how he'd held my hand at Dawn's<br />house, and then I remembered how he'd shut me out of his mind, known I was probing, known how to<br />keep me out. "Honey, Bill is a good guy, for a vampire, but he's just not human."<br />"Honey, neither are you," I said, very quietly but very sharply. And I turned my back on Sam, not<br />exactly wanting to admit why I was so angry with him, but wanting him to know it nonetheless.<br />I worked like a demon. Whatever her faults, Dawn had been efficient, and Charlsie just couldn't keep up<br />with the pace. She was willing, and I was sure she'd catch up with the rhythm of the bar, but for tonight,<br />Arlene and I had to take up the slack.<br />I earned a ton of money in tips that evening and on into the night when people found out I'd actually<br />discovered the body. I just kept my face solemn and got through it, not wanting to offend customers who<br />just wanted to know what everyone else in town wanted to know.<br />On my way home, I allowed myself to relax a little. I was exhausted. The last thing I expected to see,<br />after I turned into the little drive through the woods that led to our house, was Bill Compton. He was<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />leaning against a pine tree waiting for me. I drove past him a little, almost deciding to ignore him. But then<br />I stopped.<br />He opened my door. Without looking him in the eyes, I got out. He seemed comfortable in the night, in a<br />way I never could be. There were too many childhood taboos about the night and the darkness and<br />things that went bump.<br />Come to think of it, Bill was one of those things. No wonder<br />he felt at ease.<br />"Are you going to look at your feet all night, or are you going to talk to me?" he asked in a voice that<br />was just above a whisper.<br />"Something happened you should know about."<br />"Tell me." He was trying to do something to me: I could feel his power hovering around me, but I batted<br />it away. He sighed.<br />"I can't stand up," I said wearily. "Let's sit on the ground or something. My feet are tired."<br />In answer, he picked me up and set me on the hood of the car. Then he stood in front of me, his arms<br />crossed, very obviously waiting.<br />"Tell me."<br />"Dawn was murdered. Just like Maudette Pickens."<br />"Dawn?"<br />Suddenly I felt a little better. "The other waitress at the bar."<br />"The redheaded one, the one who's been married so often?"<br />I felt a lot better. "No, the dark-haired one, the one who kept bumping into your chair with her hips to<br />get you to notice her."<br />"Oh, that one. She came to my house."<br />"Dawn? When?"<br />"After you left the other night. The night the other vampires<br />were there. She's lucky she missed them.<br />She was very confident of her ability to handle anything."<br />I looked up at him. "Why is she so lucky? Wouldn't you have protected her?"<br />Bill's eyes were totally dark in the moonlight. "I don't think so," he said.<br />"You are ..."<br />"I'm a vampire, Sookie. I don't think like you. I don't care about people automatically."<br />"You protected me."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"You're different."<br />"Yeah? I'm a waitress, like Dawn. I come from a plain family, like Maudette. What's so different?"<br />I was in a sudden rage. I knew what was coming.<br />His cool finger touched the middle of my forehead. "Different,"<br />he said. "You're not like us. But you're<br />not like them, either."<br />I felt a flare of rage so intense it was almost divine. I hauled off and hit him, an insane thing to do. It was<br />like hitting a Brink's armored truck. In a flash, he had me off the car and pinned to him, my arms bound<br />to my sides by one of his arms.<br />"No!" I screamed. I kicked and fought, but I might as well have saved the energy. Finally I sagged<br />against him.<br />My breathing was ragged, and so was his. But I didn't think it was for the same reason.<br />"Why did you think I needed to know about Dawn?" He sounded so reasonable, you'd think the struggle<br />hadn't happened.<br />"Well, Mr. Lord of Darkness," I said furiously, "Maudette had old bite marks on her thighs, and the<br />police told Sam that Dawn had bite marks, too."<br />If silence can be characterized, his was thoughtful. While he was mulling, or whatever vampires do, his<br />embrace loosened.<br />One hand began rubbing my back absently, as if I was a puppy who had<br />whimpered.<br />"You imply they didn't die from these bites."<br />"No. From strangulation."<br />"Not a vampire, then." His tone put it beyond question.<br />"Why not?"<br />"If a vampire had been feeding from these women, they would have been drained instead of strangled.<br />They wouldn't have been wasted like that."<br />Just when I was beginning to be comfortable with Bill, he'd say something so cold, so vampirey, I had to<br />start all over again.<br />"Then," I said wearily, "either you have a crafty vampire with great self-control, or you have someone<br />who's determined<br />to kill women who've been with vampires."<br />"Hmmm."<br />I didn't feel very good about either of those choices.<br />"Do you think I'd do that?" he asked.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />The question was unexpected. I wriggled in his pinioning embrace to look up at him.<br />"You've taken great care to point out how heartless you are," I reminded him. "What do you really want<br />me to believe?"<br />And it was so wonderful not to know. I almost smiled.<br />"I could have killed them, but I wouldn't do it here, or now," Bill said. He had no color in the moonlight<br />except for the dark pools of his eyes and the dark arches of his brows. "This is where I want to stay. I<br />want a home."<br />A vampire, yearning for home.<br />Bill read my face. "Don't pity me, Sookie. That would be a mistake." He seemed willing me to stare into<br />his eyes.<br />"Bill, you can't glamor me, or whatever you do. You can't enchant me into pulling my T-shirt down for<br />you to bite me, you can't convince me you weren't ever here, you can't do any of your usual stuff. You<br />have to be regular with me, or just force me."<br />"No," he said, his mouth almost on mine. "I won't force you."<br />I fought the urge to kiss him. But at least I knew it was my very own urge, not a manufactured one.<br />"So, if it wasn't you," I said, struggling to keep on course, "then Maudette and Dawn knew another<br />vampire. Maudette went to the vampire bar in Shreveport. Maybe Dawn did, too. Will you take me<br />there?"<br />"Why?" he asked, sounding no more than curious.<br />I just couldn't explain being in danger to someone who was so used to being beyond it. At least at night.<br />"I'm not sure Andy Bellefleur will go to the trouble," I lied.<br />'There are still Bellefleurs here," he said, and there was something different in his voice. His arms<br />hardened around me to the point of pain.<br />"Yes," I said. "Lots of them. Andy is a police detective. His sister, Portia, is a lawyer. His cousin Terry is<br />a veteran and a bartender. He substitutes for Sam. There are lots of others."<br />"Bellefleur..."<br />I was getting crushed.<br />"Bill," I said, my voice squeaky with panic.<br />He loosened his grip immediately. "Excuse me," he said formally.<br />"I have to go to bed," I said. "I'm really tired, Bill."<br />He set me down on the gravel with scarcely a bump. He looked down at me.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"You told those other vampires that I belonged to you," I said.<br />"Yes."<br />"What exactly did that mean?"<br />"That means that if they try to feed on you, I'll kill them," he said. "It means you are my human."<br />"I have to say I'm glad you did that, but I'm not really sure what being your human entails," I said<br />cautiously. "And I don't recall being asked if that was okay with me."<br />"Whatever it is, it's probably better than partying with Malcolm, Liam, and Diane."<br />He wasn't going to answer me directly.<br />"Are you going to take me to the bar?"<br />"What's your next night off?"<br />"Two nights from now."<br />"Then, at sunset. I'll drive."<br />"You have a car?"<br />"How do you think I get places?" There might have been a smile on his shining face. He turned to melt<br />into the woods. Over his shoulder he said, "Sookie. Do me proud."<br />I was left standing with my mouth open.<br />Do him proud indeed.<br />Chapter 4<br />HALFTHE PATRONS of Merlotte's thought Bill had had a hand in the markings on the women's<br />bodies. The other 50 percent thought that some of the vampires from bigger towns or cities had bitten<br />Maudette and Dawn when they were out barhopping, and they deserved what they got if they wanted to<br />go to bed with vampires. Some thought the girls had been strangled by a vampire, some thought they had<br />just continued their promiscuous ways into disaster.<br />But everyone who came into Merlotte's was worried that some other woman would be killed, too. I<br />couldn't count the times I was told to be careful, told to watch my friend Bill Compton, told to lock my<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />doors and not let anyone in my house.... As if those were things I wouldn't do, normally.<br />Jason came in for both commiseration and suspicion as a man who'd "dated" both women. He came by<br />the house one day and held forth for a whole hour, while Gran and I tried to encourage him to keep going<br />with his work like an innocent<br />man would. But for the first time in my memory, my handsome brother<br />was really worried. I wasn't exactly glad he was in trouble, but I wasn't exactly sorry, either. I know that<br />was small and petty of me.<br />I am not perfect.<br />I am so not-perfect that despite the deaths of two womenI knew, I spent a substantial amount of time<br />wondering what Bill meant about doing him proud. I had no idea what constituted<br />appropriate dress for<br />visiting a vampire bar. I wasn't about to dress in some kind of stupid costume, as I'd heard some bar<br />visitors did.<br />I sure didn't know anyone to ask.<br />I wasn't tall enough or bony enough to dress in the sort of spandex outfit the vampire Diane had worn.<br />Finally I pulled a dress from the back of my closet, one I'd had little occasion to wear. It was a Nice<br />Date dress, if you wanted the personal interest of whoever was your escort. It was cut square and low in<br />the neck and it was sleeveless. It was tight and white. The fabric was thinly scattered with bright red<br />flowers with long green stems. My tan glowed and my boobs showed. I wore red enamel earrings and<br />red high-heeled screw-me shoes. I had a little red straw purse. I put on light makeup and wore my wavy<br />hair loose down my back.<br />Gran's eyes opened wide when I came out of my room.<br />"Honey, you look beautiful," she said. "Aren't you going to be a little cold in that dress?"<br />I grinned. "No, ma'am, I don't think so. It's pretty warm outside."<br />"Wouldn't you like to wear a nice white sweater over that?"<br />"No, I don't think so." I laughed. I had pushed the other vampires far enough back in my mind to where<br />looking sexy was okay again. I was pretty excited about having a date, though I had kind of asked Bill<br />myself and it was more of a fact-finding mission. That, too, I tried to forget, so I could just enjoy myself.<br />Sam called me to tell me my paycheck was ready. He asked if I'd come in and pick it up, which I usually<br />did if I wasn't going to work the next day.<br />I drove to Merlotte's feeling a little anxious at walking in dressed up.<br />But when I came in the door, I got the tribute of a moment of stunned silence. Sam's back was to me,<br />but Lafayette was looking through the hatch and Rene and JB were at the bar. Unfortunately, so was my<br />brother, Jason, whose eyes openedwide when he turned to see what Rene was staring at.<br />"You lookin' good, girl!" called Lafayette enthusiastically. "Where you get that dress?"<br />"Oh, I've had this old thing forever," I said mockingly, and he laughed.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Sam turned to see what Lafayette was gawking at, and his eyes got wide, too.<br />"God almighty," he breathed. I walked over to ask for my check, feeling very self-conscious.<br />"Come in the office, Sookie," he said, and I followed him to his small cubicle by the storeroom. Rene<br />gave me a half-hug on my way by him, and JB kissed my cheek.<br />Sam rummaged through the piles of paper on top of his desk, and finally came up with my check. He<br />didn't hand it to me, though.<br />"Are you going somewhere special?" Sam asked, almost unwillingly.<br />"I have a date," I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.<br />"You look great," Sam said, and I saw him swallow. His eyes were hot.<br />"Thank you. Urn, Sam, can I have my check?"<br />"Sure." He handed it to me, and I popped it in my purse.<br />"Good-bye, then."<br />"Good-bye." But instead of indicating I should leave, Sam stepped over and smelled me. He put his face<br />close to my neck and inhaled. His brilliant blue eyes closed briefly, as if to evaluate my odor. He exhaled<br />gently, his breath hot on my bare skin.<br />I stepped out of the door and left the bar, puzzled and interested in Sam's behavior.<br />When I got home a strange car was parked in front of the house. It was a black Cadillac, and it shone<br />like glass. Bill's. Where did they get the money to buy these cars? Shaking my head, I went up the steps<br />to the porch and walked in. Bill turned to the door expectantly; he was sitting on the couch talking to<br />Gran, who was perched on one arm of an old overstuffed chair.<br />When he saw me, I was sure I'd overdone it, and he was really angry. His face went quite still. His eyes<br />flared. Hisfingers curved as if he were scooping something up with them.<br />"Is this all right?" I asked anxiously. I felt the blood surge up into my cheeks.<br />"Yes," he said finally. But his pause had been long enough to anger my grandmother.<br />"Anyone with a brain in his head has got to admit that Sookie is one of the prettiest girls around," she<br />said, her voice friendly on the surface but steel underneath.<br />"Oh, yes," he agreed, but there was a curious lack of inflection<br />in his voice.<br />Well, screw him. I'd tried my best. I stiffened my back, and said, "Shall we go, then?"<br />"Yes," he said again, and stood. "Good-bye, Mrs. Stackhouse.<br />It was a pleasure seeing you again."<br />"Well, you two have a good time," she said, mollified. "Drive careful, Bill, and don't drink too much."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />He raised an eyebrow. "No, ma'am."<br />Gran let that sail right on past.<br />Bill held my car door open as I got in, a carefully calculated<br />series of maneuvers to keep as much of me<br />as possible in the dress. He shut the door and got in on the driver's side. I wondered who had taught him<br />to drive a car. Henry Ford, probably.<br />"I'm sorry I'm not dressed correctly," I said, looking straight ahead of me.<br />We'd been going slowly on the bumpy driveway through the woods. The car lurched to a halt.<br />"Who said that?" Bill asked, his voice very gentle.<br />"You looked at me as though I'd done something wrong," I snapped.<br />"I'm just doubting my ability to get you in and out without having to kill someone who wants you."<br />"You're being sarcastic." I still wouldn't look.<br />His hand gripped the back of my neck, forced me to turn to him.<br />"Do I look like I am?" he asked.<br />His dark eyes were wide and unblinking.<br />"Ah ... no," I admitted.<br />"Then accept what I say."<br />The ride to Shreveport was mostly silent, but not uncomfortably<br />so. Bill played tapes most of the way.<br />He was partial to Kenny G.<br />Fangtasia, the vampire bar, was located in a suburban shopping area of Shreveport, close to a Sam's<br />and a Toys 'R' Us. It was in a shopping strip, which was all closed down at this hour except for the bar.<br />The name of the place was spelled out in jazzy red neon above the door, and the facade was painted<br />steel gray, a red door providing color contrast. Whoever owned the place must have thought gray was<br />less obvious than black because the interior was decorated in the same colors.<br />I was carded at the door by a vampire. Of course, she recognized Bill as one of her own kind and<br />acknowledged him with a cool nod, but she scanned me intently. Chalky pale, as all Caucasian vampires<br />are, she was eerily striking in her long black dress with its trailing sleeves. I wondered if the overdone<br />"vampire" look was her own inclination, or if she'd just adopted it because the human patrons thought it<br />appropriate.<br />"I haven't been carded in years," I said, fishing in my red purse for my driver's license. We were standing<br />in a little boxy entrance hall.<br />"I can no longer tell human ages, and we must be very careful we serve no minors. In any capacity," she<br />said with what was probably meant to be a genial smile. She cast a sideways look at Bill, her eyes<br />flicking up and down him with an offensive interest. Offensive to me, at least.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"I haven't seen you in a few months," she said to him, her voice as cool and sweet as his could be.<br />"I'm mainstreaming," he explained, and she nodded.<br />what wereYOU telling her?" I whispered as we walked down the short hall and through the red double<br />doors into the main room.<br />"That I'm trying to live among humans."<br />I wanted to hear more, but then I got my first comprehensive<br />look at Fangtasia's interior. Everything<br />was in gray, black, and red. The walls were lined with framed pictures ofevery movie vampire who had<br />shown fangs on the silver screen, from Bela Lugosi to George Hamilton to Gary Old-man, from famous<br />to obscure. The lighting was dim, of course, nothing unusual about that; what was unusual was the<br />clientele. And the posted signs.<br />The bar was full. The human clients were divided among vampire groupies and tourists. The groupies<br />(fang-bangers, they were called) were dressed in their best finery. It ranged from the traditional capes<br />and tuxes for the men to many Morticia Adams ripoffs among the females. The clothes ranged from<br />reproductions of those worn by Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise inInterview with the Vampire to some<br />modern outfits that I thought were influenced byThe Hunger. Some of the fang-bangers were wearing<br />false fangs, some had painted trickles of blood from the corners of their mouths or puncture marks on<br />their necks. They were extraordinary, and extraordinarily pathetic.<br />The tourists looked like tourists anywhere, maybe more adventurous than most. But to enter into the<br />spirit of the bar, they were nearly all dressed in black like the fang-bangers. Maybe it was part of a tour<br />package? "Bring some black for your exciting visit to a real vampire bar! Follow the rules, and you'll be<br />fine, catching a glimpse of this exotic underworld."<br />Strewn among this human assortment, like real jewels in a bin of rhinestones, were the vampires,<br />perhaps fifteen of them. They mostly favored dark clothes, too.<br />I stood in the middle of the floor, looking around me with interest and amazement and some distaste, and<br />Bill whispered,<br />"You look like a white candle in a coal mine."<br />I laughed, and we strolled through the scattered tables to the bar. It was the only bar I'd ever seen that<br />had a case of warmed bottled blood on display. Bill, naturally, ordered one, and I took a deep breath<br />and ordered a gin and tonic. The bartender smiled at me, showing me that his fangs had shot out a little at<br />the pleasure of serving me. I tried to smile back and look modest at the same time. He was an American<br />Indian, with long coal black straight hair and a craggy nose, a straight line of a mouth, and a whippy build.<br />"How's it going, Bill?" the bartender asked. "Long time,no see. This your meal for the night?" He nodded<br />toward me as he put our drinks on the bar before us.<br />"This is my friend Sookie. She has some questions to ask."<br />"Anything, beautiful woman," said the bartender, smiling once again. I liked him better when his mouth<br />was the straight line.<br />"Have you seen this woman, or this one, in the bar?" I asked, drawing the newspaper photos of<br />Maudette and Dawn from my purse. "Or this man?" With a jolt of misgiving, I pulled out my brother's<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />picture.<br />"Yes to the women, no to the man, though he looks delicious,"<br />said the bartender, smiling at me again.<br />"Your brother, perhaps?"<br />"Yes."<br />"What possibilities," he whispered.<br />It was lucky I'd had extensive practice in face control. "Do you remember who the women hung around<br />with?"<br />"That's something I wouldn't know," he replied quickly, his face closing down. "That's something we<br />don't notice, here. You won't, either."<br />"Thank you," I said politely, realizing I'd broken a bar rule. It was dangerous to ask who left with whom,<br />evidently. "I appreciate your taking the time."<br />He looked at me consideringly. "That one," he said, poking<br />a finger at Dawn's picture, "she wanted to<br />die."<br />"How do you know?"<br />"Everyone who comes here does, to one extent or another,"<br />he said so matter-of-factly I could tell he<br />took that for granted. "That is what we are. Death."<br />I shuddered. Bill's hand on my arm drew me away to a just-vacated booth. Underscoring the Indian's<br />pronouncement,<br />at regular intervals wall placards proclaimed, "No biting on premises." "No lingering in<br />the parking lot." "Conduct<br />your personal business elsewhere." "Your patronage is appreciated. Proceed<br />at your own risk."<br />Bill took the top off the bottle with one finger and took a sip. I tried not to look, failed. Of course he saw<br />my face, and he shook his head.<br />"This is the reality, Sookie," he said. "I need it to live."<br />There were red stains between his teeth.<br />"Of course," I said, trying to match the matter-of-fact tone of the bartender, I took a deep breath. "Do<br />you suppose I want to die, since I came here with you?"<br />"I think you want to find out why other people are dying," he said. But I wasn't sure that was what he<br />really believed.<br />I didn't think Bill had yet realized that his personal position<br />was precarious. I sipped my drink, felt the<br />blossoming warmth of the gin spread through me.<br />A fang-banger approached the booth. I was half-hidden by Bill, but still, they'd all seen me enter with<br />him. She was frizzy-haired and boney, with glasses that she stuffed in a purse as she walked over. She<br />bent across the table to get her mouth about two inches from Bill.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Hi, dangerous," she said in what she hoped was a seductive<br />voice. She tapped Bill's bottled blood with<br />a fingernail painted scarlet. "I have the real stuff." She stroked her neck to make sure he got the point.<br />I took a deep breath to control my temper. I had invited Bill to this place; he hadn't invited me. I could<br />not comment on what he chose to do here, though I had a surprisingly vivid mental image of leaving a<br />slap mark on this hussy's pale, freckled cheek. I held absolutely still so I wouldn't give Bill any cues about<br />what I wanted.<br />"I have a companion," Bill said gently.<br />"She doesn't have any puncture marks on her neck," the girl observed, acknowledging my presence with<br />a contemptuous<br />look. She might as well have said "Chicken!" and flapped her arms like wings. I<br />wondered if steam was visibly coming out of my ears.<br />"I have a companion," Bill said again, his voice not so gentle this time.<br />"You don't know what you're missing," she said, her big pale eyes flashing with offense.<br />"Yes, I do," he said.<br />She recoiled as if I'd actually done the slapping, and stomped off to her table.<br />To my disgust, she was only the first of four. These people, men and women, wanted to be intimate with<br />a vampire, and they weren't shy about it.<br />Bill handled all of them with calm aplomb.<br />"You're not talking," he said, after a man of forty had left, his eyes actually tearing up at Bill's rejection.<br />"There's nothing for me to say," I replied, with great self-control.<br />"You could have sent them on their way. Do you want me to leave you? Is there someone else here who<br />catches your fancy? Long Shadow, there at the bar, would love to spend time with you, I can tell."<br />"Oh, for God's sake, no!" I wouldn't have felt safe with any of the other vampires in the bar, would have<br />been terrified<br />they were like Liam or Diane. Bill had turned his dark eyes to me and seemed to be<br />waiting for me to say something else. "I do have to ask them if they've seen Dawn and Maudette<br />in here,<br />though."<br />"Do you want me with you?"<br />"Please," I said, and sounded more frightened than I'd wanted to. I'd meant to ask like it would be a<br />casual pleasure to have his company.<br />"The vampire over there is handsome; he has scanned you twice," he said. I almost wondered if he was<br />doing a little tongue biting himself.<br />"You're teasing me," I said uncertainly after a moment.<br />The vampire he'd indicated was handsome, in fact, radiant; blond and blue-eyed, tall and broad<br />shouldered. He was wearing boots, jeans, and a vest. Period. Kind of like the guys on the cover of<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />romance books. He scared me to death.<br />"His name is Eric," said Bill.<br />"How old is he?"<br />"Very. He's the oldest thing in this bar."<br />"Is he mean?"<br />"We're all mean, Sookie. We're all very strong and very violent."<br />"Not you," I said. I saw his face close in on itself. "You want to live mainstream. You're not gonna do<br />antisocial stuff."<br />"Just when I think you're too naive to walk around alone, you say something shrewd," he said, with a<br />short laugh. "All right, we'll go talk to Eric."<br />Eric, who, it was true, had glanced my way once or twice, was sitting with a female vampire who was<br />just as lovely ashe. They'd already repelled several advances by humans. In fact, one lovelorn young man<br />had already crawled across the floor and kissed the female's boot. She'd stared down at him and kicked<br />him in the shoulder. You could tell it had been an effort for her not to kick him in the face. Tourists<br />flinched, and a couple got up and left hurriedly, but the fang-bangers seemed to take this scene for<br />granted.<br />At our approach, Eric looked up and scowled until he realized<br />who the intruders were.<br />"Bill," he said, nodding. Vampires didn't seem to shake hands.<br />Instead of walking right up to the table, Bill stood a careful distance away, and since he was gripping my<br />arm above my elbow, I had to stop, too. This seemed to be the courteous distance with this set.<br />"Who's your friend?" asked the female. Though Eric had a slight accent, this woman talked pure<br />American, and her round face and sweet features would have done credit to a milkmaid. She smiled, and<br />her fangs ran out, kind of ruining the image.<br />"Hi, I'm Sookie Stackhouse," I said politely.<br />"Aren't you sweet," Eric observed, and I hoped he was thinking of my character.<br />"Not especially," I said.<br />Eric stared at me in surprise for a moment. Then he laughed, and the female did, too.<br />"Sookie, this is Pam and I am Eric," the blond vampire said. Bill and Pam gave each other the vampire<br />nod.<br />There was a pause. I would have spoken, but Bill squeezed my arm.<br />"My friend Sookie would like to ask a couple of questions,"<br />Bill said.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />The seated vampires exchanged bored glances.<br />Pam said, "Like how long are our fangs, and what kind of coffin do we sleep in?" Her voice was laced<br />with contempt,<br />and you could tell those were tourist questions that she hated.<br />"No, ma'am," I said. I hoped Bill wouldn't pinch my arm off. I thought I was being calm and courteous.<br />She stared at me with amazement.<br />What the hell was so startling? I was getting a little tired of this. Before Bill could give me any more<br />painful hints, I opened my purse and took out the pictures. "I'd like to know if you've seen either of these<br />women in this bar." I wasn't getting Jason's picture out in front of this female. It would've been like putting<br />a bowl of milk in front of a cat.<br />They looked at the pictures. Bill's face was blank. Eric looked up. "I have been with this one," he said<br />coolly, tapping<br />Dawn's picture. "She liked pain."<br />Pam was surprised Eric had answered me, I could tell by her eyebrows. She seemed somehow<br />obligated to follow his example. "I have seen both of them. I have never been with them. This one," she<br />flicked her finger at Maudette's picture, "was a pathetic creature."<br />"Thank you very much, that's all of your time I need to take," I said, and tried to turn to leave. But Bill<br />still held my arm imprisoned.<br />"Bill, are you quite attached to your friend?" Eric asked.<br />It took a second for the meaning to sink in. Eric the Hunk was asking if I could be borrowed.<br />"She is mine," Bill said, but he wasn't roaring it as he had to the nasty vampires from Monroe.<br />Nonetheless, he sounded pretty darn firm.<br />Eric inclined his golden head, but he gave me the onceover<br />again. At least he started with my face.<br />Bill seemed to relax. He bowed to Eric, somehow including<br />Pam in the gesture, backed away for two<br />steps, finally permitting me to turn my back to the couple.<br />"Gee whiz, what was that about?" I asked in a furious whisper. I'd have a big bruise the next day.<br />"They're older than I am by centuries," Bill said, looking very vampirey.<br />"Is that the pecking order? By age?"<br />"Pecking order," Bill said thoughtfully. "That's not a bad way to put it." He almost laughed. I could tell by<br />the way his lip twitched.<br />"If you had been interested, I would have been obliged to let you go with Eric," he said, after we'd<br />resumed our seats and had a belt from our drinks.<br />"No," I said sharply.<br />"Why didn't you say anything when the fang-bangers came to our table trying to seduce me away from<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />you?"<br />We weren't operating on the same wave level. Maybe social<br />nuances weren't something vampires<br />cared about. I was going to have to explain something that couldn't really bear much explaining.<br />I made a very unladylike sound out of sheer exasperation.<br />"Okay," I said sharply. "Listen up, Bill! When you came to my house, I had to invite you. When you<br />came here with me, I had to invite you. You haven't asked me out. Lurking in my driveway doesn't count,<br />and asking me to stop by your house and leave a list of contractors doesn't count. So it's always been me<br />asking you. How can I tell you that you have to stay with me, if you want to go? If those girls will let you<br />suck their blood—or that guy, for that matter—then I don't feel I have a right to stand in your way!"<br />"Eric is much better looking than I am," Bill said. "He is more powerful, and I understand sex with him is<br />unforgettable.<br />He is so old he only needs to take a sip to maintain his strength. He almost never kills any<br />more. So, as vampires go, he's a good guy. You could still go with him. He is still looking at you. He<br />would try his glamor on you if you were not with me."<br />"I don't want to go with Eric," I said stubbornly.<br />"I don't want to go with any of the fang-bangers," he said.<br />We sat in silence for a minute or two.<br />"So we're all right," I said obscurely.<br />"Yes."<br />We took a few moments more, thinking this over.<br />"Want another drink?" he asked.<br />"Yes, unless you need to get back."<br />"No, this is fine."<br />He went to the bar. Eric's friend Pam left, and Eric appeared<br />to be counting my eyelashes. I tried to<br />keep my gaze on my hands, to indicate modesty. I felt power tweaks kind of flow over me and had an<br />uneasy feeling Eric was trying to influence me. I risked a quick peek, and sure enough he was looking at<br />me expectantly. Was I supposed to pull off my dress? Bark like a dog? Kick Bill in the shins? Shit.<br />Bill came back with our drinks.<br />"He's gonna know I'm not normal," I said grimly. Bill didn't seem to need an explanation.<br />"He's breaking the rules just attempting to glamorize you after I've told him you're mine," Bill said. He<br />sounded pretty pissed off. His voice didn't get hotter and hotter like mine would have, but colder and<br />colder.<br />"You seem to be telling everyone that," I muttered. Without<br />doing anything about it, I added silently.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"It's vampire tradition," Bill explained again. "If I pronounce<br />you mine, no one else can try to feed on<br />you."<br />"Feed on me, that's a delightful phrase," I said sharply, and Bill actually had an expression of<br />exasperation for all of two seconds.<br />"I'm protecting you," he said, his voice not quite as neutral as usual.<br />"Had it occurred to you that I—" And I stopped short. I closed my eyes. I counted to ten. When I<br />ventured a look at Bill, his eyes were fixed on my face, unblinking. I could practically hear the gears<br />mesh.<br />"You—don't need protection?" he guessed softly. "You are protecting—me?" I didn't say anything. I can<br />do that. But he took the back of my skull in his hand. He turned my head to him as though I were a<br />puppet. (This was getting to be an annoying habit of his.) He looked so hard into my eyes that I thought I<br />had tunnels burned into my brain.<br />I pursed my lips and blew into his face. "Boo," I said. I was very uncomfortable. I glanced at the people<br />in the bar, letting my guard down, listening.<br />"Boring," I told him. "These people are boring." "Are they, Sookie? What are they thinking?" It was a<br />relief to hear his voice, no matter that his voice was a little odd.<br />"Sex, sex, sex." And that was true. Every single person in that bar had sex on the brain. Even the<br />tourists, who mostly weren't thinking about having sex with the vampires themselves,<br />but were thinking<br />about the fang-bangers having sex with the vampires.<br />"What are you thinking about, Sookie?" "Not sex," I answered promptly and truthfully. I'd just gotten an<br />unpleasant shock.<br />"Is that so?"<br />"I was thinking about the chances of us getting out of here without any trouble."<br />"Why were you thinking about that?"<br />"Because one of the tourists is a cop in disguise, and he just went to the bathroom, and he knows that a<br />vampire is in there, sucking on the neck of a fang-banger. He's already called the police on his little<br />radio."<br />"Out," he said smoothly, and we were out of the booth swiftly and moving for the door. Pam had<br />vanished, but as we passed Eric's table, Bill gave him some sign. Just as smoothly, Eric eased from his<br />seat and rose to his magnificent<br />height, his stride so much longer than ours that he passed out the door<br />first, taking the arm of the bouncer and propelling her outside with us.<br />As we were about to go out the door, I remembered the bartender, Long Shadow, had answered my<br />questions willingly,<br />so I turned and jabbed my finger in the direction of the door, unmistakably telling him<br />to leave. He looked as alarmed as a vampire can look, and as Bill yanked me through the double doors,<br />he was throwing down his towel.<br />Outside, Eric was waiting outside by his car—a Corvette, naturally.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"There's going to be a raid," Bill said.<br />"How do you know?"<br />Bill stuck on that one.<br />"Me," I said, getting him off the hook.<br />Eric's wide blue eyes shone even in the gloom of the parking<br />lot. I was going to have to explain.<br />"I read a policeman's mind," I muttered. I snuck a look to see how Eric was taking this, and he was<br />staring at me the same way the Monroe vampires had. Thoughtful. Hungry.<br />"That's interesting," he said. "I had a psychic once. It was incredible."<br />"Did the psychic think so?" My voice was tarter than I'd meant it to be.<br />I could hear Bill's indrawn breath.<br />Eric laughed. "For a while," he answered ambiguously.<br />We heard sirens in the distance, and without further words Eric and the bouncer slid into his car and<br />were gone into thenight, the car seeming quieter than others' cars, somehow. Bill and I buckled up hastily,<br />and we were leaving the parking<br />lot by one exit just as the police were coming in by another. They had<br />their vampire van with them, a special prisoner transport with silver bars. It was driven by two cops who<br />were of the fanged persuasion, and they sprang out of their van and reached the club door with a speed<br />that rendered<br />them just blurs on my human vision.<br />We had driven a few blocks when suddenly Bill pulled into the parking lot of yet another darkened strip<br />mall.<br />"What—?" I began, but got no further. Bill had undipped my seat belt, moved the seat back, and<br />grabbed me before I had finished my sentence. Frightened that he was angry, I pushed against him at<br />first, but I might as well have been heaving against a tree. Then his mouth located mine, and I knew what<br />he was.<br />Oh, boy, could he kiss. We might have problems communicating<br />on some levels, but this wasn't one of<br />them. We had a great time for maybe five minutes. I felt all the right things moving through my body in<br />waves. Despite the awkwardness<br />of being in the front seat of a car, I managed to be comfortable,<br />mostly because he was so strong and considerate.<br />I nipped his skin with my teeth. He made a sound like<br />a growl.<br />"Sookie!" His voice was ragged. I moved away from him, maybe half an inch. "If you do that any more<br />I'll have you whether you want to be had or not," he said, and I could tell he meant it.<br />"You don't want to," I said finally, trying not to make it a question.<br />"Oh, yes, I want to." and he grabbed my hand and showed me.<br />Suddenly, there was a bright rotating light beside us. "The police," I said. I could see a figure get out of<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />the patrol car and start toward Bill's window. "Don't let him know you're a vampire, Bill," I said hastily,<br />fearing fallout from the Fangtasia raid. Though most police forces loved having vampires join them on the<br />job, there was a lot of prejudice against vampires on the street, especially as part of a mixed couple.<br />The policeman's heavy hand rapped on the window.<br />Bill turned on the motor, hit the button that lowered the window. But he was silent, and I realized his<br />fangs had not retracted. If he opened his mouth, it would be really obvious he was a vampire.<br />"Hello, officer," I said.<br />"Good evening," the man said, politely enough. He bent to look in the window. "You two know all the<br />shops here are closed, right?"<br />"Yes, sir."<br />"Now, I can tell you been messing around a little, and I got nothing against that, but you two need to go<br />home and do this kind of thing."<br />"We will." I nodded eagerly, and Bill managed a stiff inclination<br />of his head.<br />"We're raiding a bar a few blocks back," the patrolman said casually. I could see only a little of his face,<br />but he seemed burly and middle-aged. "You two coming from there, by any chance?"<br />"No," I said.<br />"Vampire bar," the cop remarked.<br />"Nope. Not us."<br />"Let me just shine this light on your neck, miss, if you don't mind."<br />"Not at all."<br />And by golly, he shone that old flashlight on my neck and then on Bill's.<br />"Okay, just checking. You two move on now."<br />"Yes, we will."<br />Bill's nod was even more curt. While the patrolman waited, I slid back over to my side and clipped my<br />seat belt, and Bill put the car in gear and backed up.<br />Bill was just infuriated. All the way home he kept a sullen (I guess) silence, whereas I was inclined to<br />view the whole thing as funny.<br />I was cheerful at finding Bill wasn't indifferent to my personal<br />attractions, such as they were. I began to<br />hope that someday he would want to kiss me again, maybe longer and harder, and maybe even—we<br />could go further? I was trying not to get my hopes up. Actually, there was a thing or two<br />that Bill didn't know about me, that no one knew, and I was very careful to try to keep my expectations<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />modest.<br />When he got me back to Gran's, he came around and opened my door, which made me raise my<br />eyebrows; but I am not one to stop a courteous act. I assumed Bill did realize I had functioning arms and<br />the mental ability to figure out the door-opening mechanism. When I stepped out, he backed up.<br />I was hurt. He didn't want to kiss me again; he was regretting<br />our earlier episode. Probably pining after<br />that damn Pam. Or maybe even Long Shadow. I was beginning to see that the ability to have sex for<br />several centuries leaves room for lots of experimentation. Would a telepath be so bad to add to his list?<br />I kind of hunched my shoulders together and wrapped my arms across my chest.<br />"Are you cold?" Bill asked instantly, putting his arm around me. But it was the physical equivalent of a<br />coat, he seemed to be trying to stay as far away from me as the arm made possible.<br />"I am sorry I have pestered you. I won't ask you for any more," I said, keeping my voice even. Even as I<br />spoke I realized that Gran hadn't set up a date for Bill to speak to the Descendants, but she and Bill<br />would just have to work that out.<br />He stood still. Finally he said, "You—are—incredibly— naive." And he didn't even add that codicil<br />about shrewdness,<br />like he had earlier.<br />"Well," I said blankly. "I am?"<br />"Or maybe one of God's fools," he said, and that sounded a lot less pleasant, like Quasimodo or<br />something.<br />"I guess," I said tartly, "you'll just have to find out."<br />"It had better be me that finds out," he said darkly, which I didn't understand at all. He walked me up to<br />the door, and I was sure hoping for another kiss, but he gave me a little peck on the forehead. "Good<br />night, Sookie," he whispered.<br />I rested my cheek against his for a moment. "Thanks for taking me," I said, and moved away quickly<br />before he thought I was asking for something else. ."I'm not calling you again." And before I could lose<br />my determination, I slipped into the dark house and shut the door in Bill's face.<br />Chapter5<br />I CERTAINLY HAD a lot to think about the next couple of days. For someone who was always<br />hoarding new things to keep from being bored, I'd stored enough up to last me for weeks. The people in<br />Fangtasia, alone, were food for examination, to say nothing of the vampires. From longing to meet one<br />vampire, now I'd met more than I cared to know.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />A lot of men from Bon Temps and the surrounding area had been called in to the police station to<br />answer a few questions<br />about Dawn Green and her habits. Embarrassingly enough, Detective Bellefleur<br />took to hanging around the bar on his off-hours, never drinking more alcohol than one beer, but<br />observing everything that took place around him. Since Merlotte's was not exactly a hotbed of illegal<br />activity, no one minded too much once they got used to Andy being there.<br />He always seemed to pick a table in my section. And he began to play a silent game with me. When I<br />came to his table, he'd be thinking something provocative, trying to get me to say something. He didn't<br />seem to understand how indecent that was. The provocation was the point, not the insult. He just wanted<br />me to read his mind again. I couldn't figure out why.<br />Then, maybe the fifth or sixth time I had to get him something,<br />I guess it was a Diet Coke, he pictured me cavorting with my brother. I was so nervous when I<br />went to the table (knowing to expect something, but not knowing exactly what) that I was beyond getting<br />angry and into the realm of tears. It reminded me of the less sophisticated tormenting I'd taken when I<br />was in grade school.<br />Andy had looked up with an expectant face, and when he saw tears an amazing range of things ran<br />across his face in quick succession: triumph, chagrin, then scalding shame. I poured the damn coke down<br />his shirt. I walked right past the bar and out the back door. "What's the matter?" Sam asked sharply. He<br />was right on my heels.<br />I shook my head, not wanting to explain, and pulled an aging tissue out of my shorts pocket to mop my<br />eyes with. "Has he been saying ugly things to you?" Sam asked, his voice lower and angrier.<br />"He's been thinking them," I said helplessly, "to get a rise out of me. He knows."<br />"Son of a bitch," Sam said, which almost shocked me back to normal. Sam didn't curse.<br />Once I started crying, it seemed like I couldn't stop. I was getting my crying time done for a number of<br />little unhappinesses.<br />"Just go on back in," I said, embarrassed at my waterworks.<br />"I'll be okay in just a minute."<br />I heard the back door of the bar open and shut. I figured Sam had taken me at my word. But instead,<br />Andy Bellefleur said, "I apologize, Sookie."<br />"That's Miss Stackhouse to you, Andy Bellefleur," I said. "It seems to me like you better be out finding<br />who killed Maudette and Dawn instead of playing nasty mind games with me."<br />I turned around and looked at the policeman. He was looking<br />horribly embarrassed. I thought he was<br />sincere in his shame.<br />Sam was swinging his arms, full of the energy of anger. "Bellefleur, sit in someone else's area if you come<br />back," he said, but his voice held a lot of suppressed violence. Andy looked at Sam. He was twice as<br />thick in the body,<br />taller by two inches. But I would have put my money on Sam at that moment, and it seemed Andy didn't<br />want to risk the challenge either, if only from good sense. He just nodded and walked across the parking<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />lot to his car. The sun glinted on the blond highlights in his brown hair.<br />"Sookie, I'm sorry," Sam said.<br />"Not your fault."<br />"Do you want to take some time off? We're not so busy today."<br />"Nope. I'll finish my shift." Charlsie Tooten was getting into the swing of things, but I wouldn't feel good<br />about leaving.<br />It was Arlene's day off.<br />We went back into the bar, and though several people looked at us curiously as we entered, no one<br />asked us what had happened. There was only one couple sitting in my area, and they were busy eating<br />and had glasses full of liquid, so they wouldn't be needing me. I began putting up wineglasses.<br />Sam<br />leaned against the workspace beside me.<br />"Is it true that Bill Compton is going to speak to the Descendants<br />of the Glorious Dead tonight?"<br />"According to my grandmother."<br />"Are you going?"<br />"I hadn't planned on it." I didn't want to see Bill until he called me and made an appointment to see me.<br />Sam didn't say anything else then, but later in the afternoon,<br />as I was retrieving my purse from his office,<br />he came in and fiddled with some papers on his desk. I'd pulled out my brush and was trying to get a<br />tangle out of my ponytail. From the way Sam dithered around, it seemed apparent that he wanted to talk<br />to me, and I felt a wave of exasperation at the indirection men seemed to take.<br />Like Andy Bellefleur. He could just have asked me about my disability, instead of playing games with<br />me.<br />Like Bill. He could just have stated his intentions, instead of this strange hot-cold thing.<br />"So?" I said, more sharply than I'd intended.<br />He flushed under my gaze.<br />"I wondered if you'd like to go to the Descendants meeting with me and have a cup of coffee afterward."<br />I was flabbergasted. My brush stopped in mid swoop. Anumber of things ran through my mind, the feel<br />of his hand when I'd held it in front of Dawn Green's duplex, the wall I'd met in his mind, the unwisdom of<br />dating your boss.<br />"Sure," I said, after a notable pause.<br />He seemed to exhale. "Good. Then I'll pick you up at your house at seven-twenty or so. The meeting<br />starts at seven-thirty."<br />"Okay. I'll see you then."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Afraid I'd do something peculiar if I stayed longer, I grabbed my purse and strode out to my car. I<br />couldn't decide whether to giggle with glee or groan at my own idiocy.<br />It was five-forty-five by the time I got home. Gran already had supper on the table since she had to<br />leave early to carry refreshments to the Descendants meeting, which was held at the Community Building.<br />"Wonder if he could have come if we'd had it in the fellowship<br />hall of Good Faith Baptist?" Gran said<br />out of the blue. But I didn't have a problem latching on to her train of thought.<br />"Oh, I think so," I said. "I think that idea about vampires being scared of religious items isn't true. But I<br />haven't asked him."<br />"They do have a big cross hung up in there," Gran went on.<br />"I'll be at the meeting after all," I said. "I'm going with Sam Merlotte."<br />"Your boss, Sam?" Gran was very surprised.<br />"Yes, ma'am."<br />"Hmmm. Well, well." Gran began smiling while she put the plates on the table. I was trying to think of<br />what to wear while we ate our sandwiches and fruit salad. Gran was excited<br />about the meeting, about<br />listening to Bill and introducing<br />him to her friends, and now she was in outer space somewhere<br />(probably around Venus) since I actually had a date. With a human.<br />"We'll be going out afterward," I said, "so I guess I'll get home maybe an hour after the meeting's over."<br />There weren't that many places to have coffee in Bon Temps. And those restaurants weren't exactly<br />places you'd want to linger.<br />"Okay, honey. You just take your time." Gran was already<br />dressed, and after supper I helped her load up the cookie trays and the big coffee urn she'd bought for<br />just such events. Gran had pulled her car around to the back door, which saved us a lot of steps. She<br />was happy as she could be and fussed and chattered the whole time we were loading. This was her kind<br />of night.<br />I shed my waitress clothes and got into the shower lickety-split. While I soaped up, I tried to think of<br />what to wear. Nothing black and white, that was for sure; I had gotten pretty sick of the Merlotte's<br />waitress colors. I shaved my legs again, didn't have time to wash my hair and dry it, but I'd done it the<br />night before. I flung open my closet and stared. Sam had seen the white flowered dress. The denim<br />jumper wasn't nice enough for Gran's friends. Finally I yanked out some khaki slacks and a bronze silk<br />blouse with short sleeves. I had brown leather sandals and a brown leather belt that would look good. I<br />hung a chain around my neck, stuck in some big gold earrings, and I was ready. As if he'd timed it, Sam<br />rang the doorbell.<br />There was a moment of awkwardness- as I opened the door.<br />"You're welcome to come in, but I think we just have time—"<br />"I'd like to sit and visit, but I think we just have time—"<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />We both laughed.<br />I locked the door and pulled it to, and Sam hurried to open the door of his pickup. I was glad I'd worn<br />pants, as I pictured<br />trying to get up in the high cab in one of my shorter skirts.<br />"Need a boost?" he asked hopefully.<br />"I think I got it," I said, trying not to smile.<br />We were silent on the way to the Community Building, which was in the older part of Bon Temps; the<br />part that predated the War. The structure was not antebellum, but there had actually been a building on<br />that site that had gotten destroyed<br />during the War, though no one seemed to have a record of what it<br />had been.<br />The Descendants of the Glorious Dead were a mixed bunch. There were some very old, very fragile<br />members, and some not quite so old and very lively members, and there were even a scattering of<br />middle-aged men and women. Butthere were no young members, which Gran had often lamented,<br />with<br />many significant glances at me.<br />Mr. Sterling Norris, a longtime friend of my grandmother's<br />and the mayor of Bon Temps, was the<br />greeter that night, and he stood at the door shaking hands and having a little conversation with everyone<br />who entered.<br />"Miss Sookie, you look prettier every day," Mr. Norris said. "And Sam, we haven't seen you in a coon's<br />age! Sookie, is it true this vampire is a friend of yours?" "Yes, sir."<br />"Can you say for sure that we're all safe?" "Yes, I'm sure you are. He's a very nice ... person." Being?<br />Entity? If you like the living dead, he's pretty neat?<br />"If you say so," Mr. Norris said dubiously. "In my time, such a thing was just a fairy tale."<br />"Oh, Mr. Norris, it's still your time," I said with the cheerful<br />smile expected of me, and he laughed and<br />motioned us on in, which was what was expected of him. Sam took my hand and sort of steered me to<br />the next to last row of metal chairs, and I waved at my grandmother as we took our seats. It was just<br />time for the meeting to start, and the room held maybe forty people, quite a gathering for Bon Temps.<br />But Bill wasn't there.<br />Just then the president of Descendants, a massive, solid woman by the name of Maxine Fortenberry,<br />came to the podium.<br />"Good evening! Good evening!" she boomed. "Our guest of honor has just called to say he's having car<br />trouble and will be a few minutes late. So let's go on and have our business meeting while we're waiting<br />for him."<br />The group settled down, and we got through all the boring stuff, Sam sitting beside me with his arms<br />crossed over his chest, his right leg crossed over the left at the ankle. I was being especially careful to<br />keep my mind guarded and face smiling, and I was a little deflated when Sam leaned slightly to me and<br />whispered, "It's okay to relax." "I thought I was," I whispered back. "I don't think you know how."<br />I raised my eyebrows at him. I was going to have a few things to say to Mr. Merlotte after the meeting.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Just then Bill came in, and there was a moment of sheer silence as those who hadn't seen him before<br />adjusted to his presence. If you've never been in the company of a vampire before, it's a thing you really<br />have to get used to. Under the flourescent lighting, Bill really looked much more unhuman than he did<br />under the dim lighting in Merlotte's, or the equally dim lighting in his own home. There was no way he<br />could pass for a regular guy. His pallor was very marked, of course, and the deep pools of his eyes<br />looked darker and colder. He was wearing a lightweight medium-blue suit, and I was willing to bet that<br />had been Gran's advice. He looked great. The dominant line of the arch of his eyebrow, the curve of his<br />bold nose, the chiseled lips, the white hands with their long fingers and carefully trimmed nails ... He was<br />having an exchange with the president, and she was charmed out of her support hose by Bill's<br />close-lipped smile.<br />I didn't know if Bill was casting a glamor over the whole room, or if these people were just predisposed<br />to be interested,<br />but the whole group hushed expectantly.<br />Then Bill saw me. I swear his eyebrows twitched. He gave me a little bow, and I nodded back, finding<br />no smile in me to give him. Even in the crowd, I stood at the edge of the deep pool of his silence.<br />Mrs. Fortenberry introduced Bill, but I don't remember what she said or how she skirted the fact that<br />Bill was a different kind of creature.<br />Then Bill began speaking. He had notes, I saw with some surprise. Beside me, Sam leaned forward, his<br />eyes fixed on Bill's face.<br />"... we didn't have any blankets and very little food," Bill was saying calmly. "There were many<br />deserters."<br />That was not a favorite fact of the Descendants, but a few of them were nodding in agreement. This<br />account must match what they'd learned in their studies.<br />An ancient man in the first row raised his hand.<br />"Sir, did you by chance know my great-grandfather, Tolliver<br />Humphries?"<br />"Yes," Bill said, after a moment. His face was unreadable. "Tolliver was my friend."<br />And just for a moment, there was something so tragic in his voice that I had to close my eyes.<br />"What was he like?" quavered the old man.<br />"Well, he was foolhardy, which led to his death," said Bill with a wry smile. "He was brave. He never<br />made a cent in his life that he didn't waste."<br />"How did he die? Were you there?"<br />"Yes, I was there," said Bill wearily. "I saw him get shot by a Northern sniper in the woods about twenty<br />miles from here. He was slow because he was starved. We all were. About the middle of the morning, a<br />cold morning, Tolliver saw a boy in our troop get shot as he lay in poor cover in the middle of a field. The<br />boy was not dead, but painfully wounded. But he could call to us, and he did, all morning. He called to us<br />to help him. He knew he would die if someone<br />didn't."<br />The whole room had grown so silent you could hear a pin drop.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"He screamed and he moaned. I almost shot him myself, to shut him up, because I knew to venture out<br />to rescue him was suicide. But I could not quite bring myself to kill him. That would be murder, not war, I<br />told myself. But later I wished I had shot him, for Tolliver was less able than I to withstand the boy's<br />pleading. After two hours of it, he told me he planned to try to rescue the boy. I argued with him. But<br />Tolliver told me that God wanted him to attempt it. He had been praying as we lay in the woods.<br />"Though I told Tolliver that God did not wish him to waste his life foolishly—that he had a wife and<br />children praying for his safe return at home—Tolliver asked me to divert the enemy while he attempted<br />the boy's rescue. He ran out into the field like it was a spring day and he was well rested. And he got as<br />far as the wounded boy. But then a shot rang out, and Tolliver fell dead. And, after a time, the boy began<br />screaming for help again."<br />"What happened to him?" asked Mrs. Fortenberry, her voice as quiet as she could manage to make it.<br />"He lived," Bill said, and there was tone to his voice that sent shivers down my spine. "He survived the<br />day, and we were able to retrieve him that night."<br />Somehow those people had come alive again as Bill spoke, and for the old man in the front row there<br />was a memory to cherish, a memory that said much about his ancestor's character.<br />I don't think anyone who'd come to the meeting that night was prepared for the impact of hearing about<br />the Civil War from a survivor. They were enthralled; they were shattered.<br />When Bill had answered the last question, there was thunderous<br />applause, or at least it was as<br />thunderous as forty people could make it. Even Sam, not Bill's biggest fan, managed<br />to put his hands<br />together.<br />Everyone wanted to have a personal word with Bill afterward<br />except me and Sam. While the reluctant<br />guest speaker was surrounded by Descendants, Sam and I sneaked out to Sam's pickup. We went to<br />the Crawdad Diner, a real dive that happened to have very good food. I wasn't hungry, but Sam had key<br />lime pie with his coffee.<br />"That was interesting," Sam said cautiously.<br />"Bill's speech? Yes," I said, just as cautiously.<br />"Do you have feelings for him?"<br />After all the indirection, Sam had decided to storm the main gate.<br />"Yes," I said.<br />"Sookie," Sam said, "You have no future with him."<br />"On the other hand, he's been around a while. I expect he'll be around for a another few hundred years."<br />"You never know what's going to happen to a vampire."<br />I couldn't argue with that. But, as I pointed out to Sam, I couldn't know what was going to happen to<br />me, a human, either.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />We wrangled back and forth like this for too long. Finally, exasperated, I said, "What's it to you, Sam?"<br />His ruddy skin flushed. His bright blue eyes met mine. "I like you, Sookie. As friend or maybe something<br />else sometime<br />..."<br />Huh?<br />"I just hate to see you take a wrong turn."<br />I looked at him. I could feel my skeptical face forming, eyebrows drawn together, the corner of my<br />mouth tugging up.<br />"Sure," I said, my voice matching my face. "I've always liked you."<br />"So much that you had to wait till someone else showed an interest, before you mentioned it to me?"<br />"I deserve that." He seemed to be turning something over in his mind, something he wanted to say, but<br />hadn't the resolution.<br />Whatever it was, he couldn't come out with it, apparently. "Let's go," I suggested. It would be hard to<br />turn the conversation<br />back to neutral ground, I figured. I might as well go home.<br />It was a funny ride back. Sam always seemed on the verge of speaking, and then he'd shake his head<br />and keep silent. I was so aggravated I wanted to swat him.<br />We got home later than I'd thought. Gran's light was on, but the rest of the house was dark. I didn't see<br />her car, so I figured she'd parked in back to unload the leftovers right into the kitchen. The porch light<br />was on for me.<br />Sam walked around and opened the pickup door, and I stepped down. But in the shadow, my foot<br />missed the running<br />board, and I just sort of tumbled out. Sam caught me. First his hands gripped my<br />arms to steady me, then they just slid around me. And he kissed me.<br />I assumed it was going to be a little good-night peck, but his mouth just kind of lingered. It was really<br />more than pleasant,<br />but suddenly my inner censor said, "This is the boss."<br />I gently disengaged. He was immediately aware that I was backing off, and gently slid his hands down<br />my arms until he was just holding hands with me. We went to the door, not speaking.<br />"I had a good time," I said, softly. I didn't want to wake Gran, and I didn't want to sound bouncy.<br />"I did, too. Again sometime?"<br />"We'll see," I said. I really didn't know how I felt about Sam.<br />I waited to hear his truck turn around before I switched off the porch light and went into the house. I<br />was unbuttoning my blouse as I walked, tired and ready for bed.<br />Something was wrong.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />I stopped in the middle of the living room. I looked around me.<br />Everything looked all right, didn't it?<br />Yes. Everything was in its proper place.<br />It was the smell.<br />It was a sort of penny smell.<br />A coppery smell, sharp and salty.<br />The smell of blood.<br />It was down here with me, not upstairs where the guest bedrooms sat in neat solitude.<br />"Gran?" I called. I hated the quavering in my voice.<br />I made myself move, I made myself go to the door of her room. It was pristine. I began switching on<br />lights as I went through the house.<br />My room was just as I'd left it.<br />The bathroom was empty.<br />The washroom was empty.<br />I switched on the last light. The kitchen was ...<br />I screamed, over and over. My hands were fluttering uselessly<br />in the air, trembling more with each<br />scream. I heard a crash behind me, but couldn't be concerned. Then big hands gripped me and moved<br />me, and a big body was between me and what I'd seen on the kitchen floor. I didn't recognize Bill, but he<br />picked me up and moved me to the living room where I couldn't see any more.<br />"Sookie," he said harshly, "Shut up! This isn't any good!"<br />If he'd been kind to me, I'd have kept on shrieking.<br />"Sorry," I said, still out of my mind. "I am acting like that boy."<br />He stared at me blankly.<br />"The one in your story," I said numbly.<br />"We have to call the police."<br />"Sure."<br />"We have to dial the phone."<br />"Wait. How did you come here?"<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Your grandmother gave me a ride home, but I insisted on coming with her first and helping her unload<br />the car."<br />"So why are you still here?"<br />"I was waiting for you."<br />"So, did you see who killed her?"<br />"No. I went home, across the cemetery, to change."<br />He was wearing blue jeans and Grateful Dead T-shirt, and suddenly I began to giggle.<br />"That's priceless," I said, doubling over with the laughter.<br />And I was crying, just as suddenly. I picked up the phone and dialled 911.<br />Andy Bellefleur was there in five minutes.<br />JASON CAME AS soon as I reached him. I tried to call him at four or five different places, and finally<br />reached him at Merlotte's. Terry Bellefleur was bartending for Sam that night, and when he'd gotten back<br />from telling Jason to come to his grandmother's house, I asked Terry if he'd call Sam and tell him I had<br />troubles and couldn't work for a few days.<br />Terry must have called Sam right away because Sam was at my house within thirty minutes, still wearing<br />the clothes he'd worn to the meeting that night. At the sight of him I looked down, remembering<br />unbuttoning my blouse as I walked through the living room, a fact I'd completely lost track of; but I was<br />decent. It dawned on me that Bill must have set me to rights. I might find that embarrassing later, but at<br />the moment I was just grateful.<br />So Jason came in, and when I told him Gran was dead, and dead by violence, he just looked at me.<br />There seemed to be nothing going on behind his eyes. It was as if someone had erased his capacity for<br />absorbing new facts. Then what I'd said sank in, and my brother sank to his knees right where he stood,<br />and I knelt in front of him. He put his arms around me and lay his head on my shoulder, and we just<br />stayed there for a while. We were all that was left.<br />Bill and Sam were out in the front yard sitting in lawn chairs, out of the way of the police. Soon Jason<br />and I were asked to go out on the porch, at least, and we opted to sit outside, too. It was a mild evening,<br />and I sat facing the house, all lit up like a birthday cake, and the people that came and went from it like<br />ants who'd been allowed at the party. All this industry surrounding the tissue that had been my<br />grandmother.<br />"What happened?" Jason asked finally.<br />"I came in from the meeting," I said very slowly. "After Sam pulled off in his truck. I knew something<br />was wrong. I looked in every room." This was the story of How I Found Grandmother Dead, the official<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />version. "And when I got to the kitchen I saw her."<br />Jason turned his head very slowly so his eyes met mine.<br />"Tell me."<br />I shook my head silently. But it was his right to know. "She was beaten up, but she had tried to fight<br />back, I think. Whoever did this cut her up some. And then strangled her, it looked like."<br />I could not even look at my brother's face. "It was my fault." My voice was nothing more than a whisper.<br />"How do you figure that?" Jason said, sounding nothing more than dull and sluggish.<br />"I figure someone came to kill me like they killed Maudette<br />and Dawn, but Gran was here instead."<br />I could see the idea percolate in Jason's brain.<br />"I was supposed to be home tonight while she was at the meeting, but Sam asked me to go at the last<br />minute. My car was here like it would be normally because we went in Sam's truck. Gran had parked her<br />ear around back while she was unloading, so it wouldn't look like she was here, just me. She had given<br />Bill a ride home, but he helped her unload and went to change clothes. After he left, whoever it was ...<br />got her."<br />"How do we know it wasn't Bill?" Jason asked, as though Bill wasn't sitting right there beside him.<br />"How do we know it wasn't anyone?" I said, exasperated at my brother's slow wits. "It could be<br />anyone, anyone we know. I don't think it was Bill. I don't think Bill killed Maudette<br />and Dawn. And I<br />do think whoever killed Maudette and Dawn killed Grandmother."<br />"Did you know," Jason said, his voice too loud, "that Grandmother left you this house all by yourself?"<br />It was like he'd thrown a bucket of cold water in my face. I saw Sam wince, too. Bill's eyes got darker<br />and chillier.<br />"No. I just always assumed you and I would share like we did on the other one." Our parents' house, the<br />one Jason lived in now.<br />"She left you all the land, too."<br />"Why are you saying this?" I was going to cry again, just when I'd been sure I was dry of tears now.<br />"She wasn't fair!" he was yelling. "It wasn't fair, and now she can't set it right!"<br />I began to shake. Bill pulled me out of the chair and began walking with me up and down the yard. Sam<br />sat in front of Jason and began talking to him earnestly, his voice low and intense.<br />Bill's arm was around me, but I couldn't stop shaking. "Did he mean that?" I asked, not expecting Bill to<br />answer.<br />"No," he said. I looked up, surprised.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"No, he couldn't help your grandmother, and he couldn't handle the idea of someone lying in wait for you<br />and killing her instead. So he had to get angry about something. And instead of getting angry with you for<br />not getting killed, he's angry about things. I wouldn't let it worry me."<br />"I think it's pretty amazing that you're saying this," I told him bluntly.<br />"Oh, I took some night school courses in psychology," said Bill Compton, vampire.<br />And, I couldn't help thinking, hunters always study their prey. "Why would Gran leave me all this, and<br />not Jason?"<br />"Maybe you'll find out later," he said, and that seemed fine to me.<br />Then Andy Bellefleur came out of the house and stood on the steps, looking up at the sky as if there<br />were clues written on it.<br />"Compton," he called sharply.<br />"No," I said, and my voice came out as a growl.<br />I could feel Bill look down at me with the slight surprise that was a big reaction, coming from him.<br />"Now it's gonna happen," I said furiously.<br />"You-were protecting me," he said. "You thought the police<br />would suspect me of killing those two<br />women. That's why you wanted to be sure they were accessible to other vampires. Now you think this<br />Bellefleur will try to blame your grandmother's death on me."<br />"Yes."<br />He took a deep breath. We were in the dark, by the trees that lined the yard. Andy bellowed Bill's name<br />again.<br />"Sookie," Bill said gently, "I am sure you were the intended<br />victim, as sure as you are."<br />It was kind of a shock to hear someone else say it.<br />"And I didn't kill them. So if the killer was the same as their killer, then I didn't do it, and he will see that.<br />Even if he is a Bellefleur."<br />We began walking back into the light. I wanted none of this to be. I wanted the lights and the people to<br />vanish, all of them, Bill, too. I wanted to be alone in the house with my grandmother, and I wanted her to<br />look happy, as she had the last time I'd seen her.<br />It was futile and childish, but I could wish it nonetheless. I was lost in that dream, so lost I didn't see<br />harm coming until it was too late.<br />My brother, Jason, stepped in front of me and slapped me in the face.<br />It was so unexpected and so painful that I lost my balance and staggered to the side, landing hard on one<br />knee.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Jason seemed to be coming after me again, but Bill was suddenly in front of me, crouched, and his fangs<br />were out and he was scary as hell. Sam tackled Jason and brought him down, and he may have whacked<br />Jason's face against the ground once for good measure.<br />Andy Bellefleur was stunned at this unexpected display of violence. But after a second he stepped in<br />between our two little groups on the lawn. He looked at Bill and swallowed, but he said in a steady<br />voice, "Compton, back off. He won't hit her again."<br />Bill was taking deep breaths, trying to control his hunger for Jason's blood. I couldn't read his thoughts,<br />but I could read his body language.<br />I couldn't exactly read Sam's thoughts, but I could tell he was very angry.<br />Jason was sobbing. His thoughts were a confused and tangled<br />blue mess.<br />And Andy Bellefleur didn't like any of us and wished he could lock every freaking one of us up for some<br />reason or another.<br />I pushed myself wearily to my feet and touched the painful spot of my cheek, using that to distract me<br />from the pain inmy heart, the dreadful grief that rolled over me. I thought this night would never end.<br />THE FUNERAL WAS the largest ever held in Renard Parish.<br />The minister said so. Under a brilliant<br />early summer sky, my grandmother was buried beside my mother and father in our family plot in the<br />ancient cemetery between the Comptons'<br />house and Gran's house.<br />Jason had been right. It was my house, now. The house and the twenty acres surrounding it were mine,<br />as were the mineral rights. Gran's money, what there was, had been divided<br />fairly between us, and Gran<br />had stipulated that I give Jason my half of the home our parents had lived in, if I wanted to retain full<br />rights to her house. That was easy to do, and I didn't want any money from Jason for that half, though my<br />lawyer looked dubious when I told him that. Jason<br />would just blow his top if I mentioned paying me for<br />my half; the fact that I was part-owner had never been more than a fantasy to him. Yet Gran leaving her<br />house to me outright had come as a big shock. She had understood him better than I had.<br />It was lucky I had income other than from the bar, I thought heavily, trying to concentrate on something<br />besides her loss. Paying taxes on the land and house, plus the upkeep of the house, which Gran had<br />assumed at least partially, would really stretch my income.<br />"I guess you'll want to move," Maxine Fortenberry said when she was cleaning the kitchen. Maxine had<br />brought over devilled eggs and ham salad, and she was trying to be extra helpful by scrubbing.<br />"No," I said, surprised.<br />"But honey, with it happening right here..." Maxine's heavy face creased with concern.<br />"I have far more good memories of this kitchen than bad ones," I explained.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Oh, what a good way to look at it," she said, surprised. "Sookie, you really are smarter than anyone<br />gives you credit for being."<br />"Gosh, thanks, Mrs. Fortenberry," I said, and if she heardthe dry tone in my voice she didn't react.<br />Maybe that was wise.<br />"Is your friend coming to the funeral?" The kitchen was very warm. Bulky, square Maxine was blotting<br />her face with a dishtowel. The spot where Gran had fallen had been scrubbed by her friends, God bless<br />them.<br />"My friend. Oh, Bill? No, he can't."<br />She looked at me blankly.<br />"We're having it in the daytime, of course."<br />She still didn't comprehend.<br />"He can't come out."<br />"Oh, of course!" She gave herself a light tap on the temple to indicate she was knocking sense into her<br />head. "Silly me. Would he really fry?"<br />"Well, he says he would."<br />"You know, I'm so glad he gave that talk at the club, that has really made such a difference in making<br />him part of the community."<br />I nodded, abstracted.<br />"There's really a lot of feeling about the murders, Sookie. There's really a lot of talk about vampires,<br />about how they're responsible for these deaths."<br />I looked at her with narrowed eyes.<br />"Don't you go all mad on me, Sookie Stackhouse! Since Bill was so sweet about telling those fascinating<br />stories at the Descendants meeting, most people don't think he could do those awful things that were<br />done to those women." I wondered what stories were making the rounds, and I shuddered<br />to think.<br />"But he's had some visitors that people didn't much like the looks of."<br />I wondered if she meant Malcolm, Liam, and Diane. I hadn't much liked their looks either, and I resisted<br />the automatic<br />impulse to defend them.<br />"Vampires are just as different among themselves as humans<br />are," I said.<br />"That's what I told Andy Bellefleur," she said, nodding vehemently. "I said to Andy, you should go after<br />some of those others, the ones that don't want to learn how to live with us, not like Bill Compton, who's<br />really making an effortto settle in. He was telling me at the funeral home that he'd gotten his kitchen<br />finished, finally."<br />I could only stare at her. I tried to think of what Bill might make in his kitchen. Why would he need one?<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />But none of the distractions worked, and finally I just realized<br />that for a while I was going to be crying<br />every whipstitch.<br />And I did.<br />At the funeral Jason stood beside me, apparently over his surge of anger at me, apparently back in his<br />right mind. He didn't touch me or talk to me, but he didn't hit me, either. I felt very alone. But then I<br />realized as I looked out over the hillside that the whole town was grieving with me. There were cars as<br />far as I could see on the narrow drives through the cemetery, there were hundreds of dark-clad folks<br />around the funeral-home tent. Sam was there in a suit (looking quite unlike himself), and Arlene, standing<br />by Rene, was wearing a flowered Sunday dress. Lafayette stood at the very back of the crowd, along<br />with Terry Bellefleur and Charlsie Tooten; the bar must be closed! And all Gran's friends, all, the ones<br />who could still walk. Mr. Norris wept openly, a snowy white handkerchief held up to his eyes. Maxine's<br />heavy face was set in graven lines'of sadness. While the minister said what he had to, while Jason and I<br />sat alone in family area in the uneven folding chairs, I felt something in me detach and fly up, up into the<br />blue brilliance: and I knew that whatever had happened to my grandmother, now she was at home.<br />The rest of the day went by in a blur, thank God. I didn't want to remember it, didn't want to even know<br />it was happening.<br />But one moment stood out.<br />Jason and I were standing by the dining room table in Gran's house, some temporary truce between us.<br />We greeted the mourners, most of whom did their best not to stare at the bruise on my cheek.<br />We glided through it, Jason thinking that he would go home and have a drink after, and he wouldn't have<br />to see me for a while and then it would be all right, and me thinking almost exactly the same thing. Except<br />for the drink.<br />A well-meaning woman came up to us, the sort of woman who has thought over every ramification of a<br />situation that was none of her business to start with.<br />"I am so sorry for you kids," she said, and I looked at her; for the life of me I couldn't remember her<br />name. She was a Methodist. She had three grown children. But her name ran right out the other side of<br />my head.<br />"You know it was so sad seeing you two there alone today, it made me remember your mother and<br />father so much," she said, her face creasing into a mask of sympathy that I knew was automatic. I<br />glanced at Jason, looked back to the woman, nodded.<br />"Yes," I said. But I heard her thought before she spoke, and I began to blanch.<br />"But where was Adele's brother today, your great uncle? Surely he's still living?"<br />"We're not in touch," I said, and my tone would have discouraged anyone more sensitive than this lady.<br />"But her only brother! Surely you ..." and her voice died away as our combined stare finally sank home.<br />Several other people had commented briefly on our Uncle Bartlett's absence, but we had given the "this<br />is family business"<br />signals that cut them right off. This woman—what was her name?—just hadn't been<br />as quick to read them. She'd brought a taco salad, and I planned to throw it right into the garbage when<br />she'd left.<br />"We do have to tell him," Jason said quietly after she left. I put my guard up; I had no desire to know<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />what he was thinking.<br />"You call him," I said.<br />"All right."<br />And that was all we said to each other for the rest of the day.<br />Chapter 6<br />I STAYED AT home for three days after the funeral. It was too long; I needed to go back to work. But<br />I kept thinking of things I just had to do, or so I told myself. I cleaned out Gran's room. Arlene happened<br />to drop by, and I asked her for help, because I just couldn't be in there alone with my grandmother's<br />things, all so familiar and imbued with her personal odor of Johnson's baby powder and<br />Campho-Phenique.<br />So my friend Arlene helped me pack everything up to take to the disaster relief agency. There'd been<br />tornadoes in northern<br />Arkansas the past few days, and surely some person who had lost everything<br />could use all the clothes. Gran had been smaller and thinner than I, and besides that her tastes were very<br />different, so I wanted nothing of hers except the jewelry. She'd never worn much, but what she wore was<br />real and precious to me.<br />It was amazing what Gran had managed to pack into her room. I didn't even want to think about what<br />she'd stored in the attic: that would be dealt with later, in the fall, when the attic was bearably cool and I'd<br />time to think.<br />I probably threw away more than I should have, but it made me feel efficient and strong to be doing this,<br />and I did a drastic job of it. Arlene folded and packed, only putting<br />aside papers and photographs, letters and bills and cancelled checks. My grandmother had never used a<br />credit card in her life and never bought anything on time, God bless her, which made the winding-up<br />much easier.<br />Arlene asked about Gran's car. It was five years old and had very little mileage. "Will you sell yours and<br />keep hers?" she asked. "Yours is newer, but it's small."<br />"I hadn't thought," I said. And I found I couldn't think of it, that cleaning out the bedroom was the extent<br />of what I could do that day.<br />At the end of the afternoon, the bedroom was empty of Gran. Arlene and I turned the mattress and I<br />remade the bed out of habit. It was an old four-poster in the rice pattern. I had always thought her<br />bedroom set was beautiful, and it occurred to me that now it was mine. I could move into the bigger<br />bedroom and have a private bath instead of using the one in the hall.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Suddenly, that was exactly what I wanted to do. The furniture<br />I'd been using in my bedroom had been<br />moved over here from my parents' house when they'd died, and it was kid's furniture; overly feminine,<br />sort of reminiscent of Barbies<br />and sleepovers.<br />Not that I'd ever had many sleepovers, or been to many.<br />Nope, nope, nope, I wasn't going to fall into that old pit. I was what I was, and I had a life, and I could<br />enjoy things; the little treats that kept me going.<br />"I might move in here," I told Arlene as she taped a box shut.<br />"Isn't that a little soon?" she asked. She flushed red when she realized she'd sounded critical.<br />"It would be easier to be in here than be across the hall thinking about the room being empty," I said.<br />Arlene thought that through, crouched beside the cardboard box with the roll of tape in her hand.<br />"I can see that," she agreed, with a nod of her flaming red head.<br />We loaded the cardboard boxes into Arlene's car. She had kindly agreed to drop them by the collection<br />center on her way home, and I gratefully accepted the offer. I didn't want anyone to look at me<br />knowingly, with pity, when I gaveaway my grandmother's clothes and shoes and nightgowns.<br />When Arlene left, I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, and she stared at me. That was outside<br />the bounds our friendship had had up till now. She bent her head to mine and we very gently bumped<br />foreheads.<br />"You crazy girl," she said, affection in her voice. "You come see us, now. Lisa's been wanting you to<br />baby-sit again."<br />"You tell her Aunt Sookie said hi to her, and to Coby, too."<br />"I will." And Arlene sauntered off to her car, her flaming hair puffing in a waving mass above her head,<br />her full body making her waitress outfit look like one big promise.<br />All my energy drained away as Arlene's car bumped down the driveway through the trees. I felt a million<br />years old, alone and lonely. This was the way it was going to be from now on.<br />I didn't feel hungry, but the clock told me it was time to eat. I went into the kitchen and pulled one of the<br />many Tup-perware containers from the refrigerator. It held turkey and grape salad, and I liked it, but I<br />sat there at the table just picking at it with a fork. I gave up, returning it to the icebox and going to the<br />bathroom for a much-needed shower. The corners of closets are always dusty, and even a housekeeper<br />as good as my grandmother had been had not been able to defeat that dust.<br />The shower felt wonderful. The hot water seemed to steam out some of my misery, and I shampooed<br />my hair and scrubbed every inch of skin, shaving my legs and armpits. After I climbed out, I plucked my<br />eyebrows and put on skin lotion and deodorant and a spray to untangle my hair and anything else I could<br />lay my hands on. With my hair trailing down my back in a cascade of wet snarls, I pulled on my<br />nightshirt, a white one with Tweety Bird on the front, and I got my comb. I'd sit in front of the television<br />to have something<br />to watch while I got my hair combed out, always a tedious process.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />My little burst of purpose expired, and I felt almost numb.<br />The doorbell rang just as I was trailing into the living room with my comb in one hand and a towel in the<br />other.<br />I looked through the peephole. Bill was waiting patiently on the porch.<br />I let him in without feeling either glad or sorry to see him.<br />He took me in with some surprise: the nightshirt, the wet hair, the bare feet. No makeup.<br />"Come in," I said.<br />"Are you sure?"<br />"Yes."<br />And he came in, looking around him as he always did. "What are you doing?" he asked, seeing the pile<br />of things I'd put to one side because I thought friends of Gran's might want them: Mr. Norris might be<br />pleased to get the framed picture of his mother and Gran's mother together, for example.<br />"I cleaned out the bedroom today," I said. "I think I'll move into it." Then I couldn't think of anything else<br />to say. He turned to look at me carefully.<br />"Let me comb out your hair," he said.<br />I nodded indifferently. Bill sat on the flowered couch and indicated the old ottoman positioned in front of<br />it. I sat down obediently, and he scooted forward a little, framing me with his thighs. Starting at the crown<br />of my head, he began teasing the tangles out of my hair.<br />As always, his mental silence was a treat. Each time, it was like putting the first foot into a cool pool of<br />water when I'd been on a long, dusty hike on a hot day.<br />As a bonus, Bill's long fingers seemed adept at dealing with the thick mane of my hair. I sat with my eyes<br />closed, gradually becoming tranquil. I could feel the slight movements<br />of his body behind me as he<br />worked with the comb. I could almost hear his heart beating, I thought, and then realized how strange an<br />idea that was. His heart, after all, didn't.<br />"I used to do this for my sister, Sarah," he murmured quietly,<br />as if he knew how peaceful I'd gotten and<br />was trying not to break my mood. "She had hair darker than yours, even longer. She'd never cut it. When<br />we were children, and my mother was busy, she'd have me work on Sarah's hair."<br />"Was Sarah younger than you, or older?" 1 asked in a slow, drugged voice.<br />"She was younger. She was three years younger." "Did you have other brothers or sisters?" "My mother<br />lost two in childbirth," he said slowly, as if he could barely remember. "I lost my brother, Robert, when<br />he was twelve and I was eleven. He caught a fever, and it killed him. Now they would pump him full of<br />penicillin, and he would be all right. But they couldn't then. Sarah survived the war, she and my mother,<br />though my father died while I was soldiering; he had what I've learned since was a stroke. My wife was<br />living with my family then, and my children<br />..."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Oh, Bill," I said sadly, almost in a whisper, for he had lost so much.<br />"Don't, Sookie," he said, and his voice had regained its cold clarity.<br />He worked on in silence for a while, until I could tell the comb was running free through my hair. He<br />picked up the white towel I'd tossed on the arm of the couch and began to pat my hair dry, and as it<br />dried he ran his fingers through it to give it body.<br />"Mmmm," I said, and as I heard it, it was no longer the sound of someone being soothed.<br />I could feel his cool fingers lifting the hair away from my neck and then I felt his mouth just at the nape. I<br />couldn't speak or move. I exhaled slowly, trying not to make another sound. His lips moved to my ear,<br />and he caught the lobe of it between his teeth. Then his tongue darted in. His arms came around me,<br />crossing over my chest, pulling me back against him.<br />And for a miracle I only heard what his body was saying, not those niggling things from minds that only<br />foul up moments<br />like this. His body was saying something very simple. He lifted me as easily as I'd<br />rotate an infant. He turned me so I was facing him on his lap, my legs on either side of his. I put my arms<br />around him and bent a little to kiss him. It went on and on, but after a while Bill settled into a rhythm with<br />his tongue, a rhythm even someone as inexperienced as I could identify. The nightshirt slid up to the tops<br />of my thighs. My hands began to rub his arms helplessly. Strangely, I thought of a pan of caramels my<br />grandmother had put on<br />the stove for a candy recipe, and I thought of the melted, warm sweet goldenness of them.<br />He stood up with me still wrapped around him. "Where?" he asked.<br />And I pointed to my grandmother's former room. He carried<br />me in as we were, my legs locked around<br />him, my head on his shoulder, and he lay me on the clean bed. He stood by the bed and in the moonlight<br />coming in the unshaded windows, I saw him undress, quickly and neatly. Though I was getting great<br />pleasure from watching him, I knew I had to do the same; but still a little embarrassed, I just drew off the<br />nightshirt and tossed it onto the floor.<br />I stared at him. I'd never seen anything so beautiful or so scary in my life.<br />"Oh, Bill," I said anxiously, when he was beside me in the bed, "I don't want to disappoint you."<br />"That's not possible," he whispered. His eyes looked at my body as if it were a drink of water on a<br />desert dune.<br />"I don't know much," I confessed, my voice barely audible.<br />"Don't worry. I know a lot." His hands began drifting over me, touching me in places I'd never been<br />touched. I jerked with surprise, then opened myself to him.<br />"Will this be different from doing it with a regular guy?" I asked.<br />"Oh, yes."<br />I looked up at him questioningly.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"It'll be better," he said in my ear, and I felt a twinge of pure excitement.<br />A little shyly, I reached down to touch him, and he made a very human sound. After a moment, the<br />sound became deeper.<br />"Now?" I asked, my voice ragged and shaking.<br />"Oh, yes," he said, and then he was on top of me.<br />A moment later he found out the true extent of my inexperience.<br />"You should have told me," he said, but very gently. He held himself still with an almost palpable effort.<br />"Oh, please don't stop!" I begged, thinking that the top .<br />would fly off my head, something drastic would happen, if he didn't go on with it.<br />"I have no intention of stopping," he promised a little grimly. "Sookie ... this will hurt."<br />In answer, I raised myself. He made an incoherent noise and pushed into me.<br />I held my breath. I bit my lip. Ow, ow, ow.<br />"Darling," Bill said. No one had ever called me that. "How are you?" Vampire or not, he was trembling<br />with the effort of holding back.<br />"Okay," I said inadequately. I was over the sting, and I'd lose my courage if we didn't proceed. "Now," I<br />said, and I bit him hard on the shoulder.<br />He gasped, and jerked, and he began moving in earnest. At first I was dazed, but I began to catch on<br />and keep up. He found my response very exciting, and I began to feel that something was just around the<br />corner, so to speak—something<br />very big and good. I said, "Oh, please, Bill, please!" and dug my nails<br />in his hips, almost there, almost there, and then a small shift in our alignment allowed him to press even<br />more directly against me and almost before I could gather myself I was flying, flying, seeing white with<br />gold streaks. I felt Bill's teeth against my neck, and I said, "Yes!" I felt his fangs penetrate, but it was a<br />small pain, an exciting pain, and as he came inside me I felt him draw on the little wound.<br />We lay there for a long time, from time to time trembling with little aftershocks. I would never forget his<br />taste and smell as long as I lived, I would never forget the feel of him inside me this first time—my first<br />time, ever—I would never forget the pleasure.<br />Finally Bill moved to lie beside me, propped on one elbow,<br />and he put his hand over my stomach. "I<br />am the first." "Yes."<br />"Oh, Sookie." He bent to kiss me, his lips tracing the line of my throat.<br />"You could tell I don't know much," I said shyly. "But was that all right for you? I mean, about on a par<br />with other women at least? I'll get better."<br />"You can get more skilled, Sookie, but you can't get anybetter." He kissed me on the cheek. "You're<br />wonderful."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Will I be sore?"<br />"I know you'll think this is odd, but I don't remember. The only virgin I was ever with was my wife, and<br />that was a century and a half ago ... yes, I recall, you will be very sore. We won't be able to make love<br />again, for a day or two."<br />"Your blood heals," I observed after a little pause, feeling my cheeks redden.<br />In the moonlight, I could see him shift, to look at me more directly. "So it does," he said. "Would you<br />like that?"<br />"Sure. Wouldn't you?"<br />"Yes," he breathed, and bit his own arm.<br />It was so sudden that I cried out, but he casually rubbed a finger in his own blood, and then before I<br />could tense up he slid that finger up inside me. He began moving it very gently, and in a moment, sure<br />enough, the pain was gone.<br />'Thanks," I said. "I'm better now."<br />But he didn't remove his finger.<br />"Oh," I said. "Would you like to do it again so soon? Can you do that?" And as his finger kept up its<br />motion, I began to hope so.<br />"Look and see," he offered, a hint of amusement in his sweet dark voice.<br />I whispered, hardly recognizing myself, "Tell me what you want me to do."<br />And he did.<br />I WENT BACK to work the next day. No matter what Bill's healing powers were, I was a little<br />uncomfortable, but boy, did I feel powerful. It was a totally new feeling for me. It was hard not to<br />feel—well, cocky is surely the wrong word— maybe incredibly smug is closer.<br />Of course, there were the same old problems at the bar— the cacophony of voices, the buzzing of them,<br />the persistence.<br />But somehow I seemed better able to tone them down, to tamp them into a pocket. It<br />was easier to keep my guard up, and I felt consequently more relaxed. Or maybe since I was more<br />relaxed—boy, was I more relaxed—it was easier<br />to guard? I don't know. But I felt better, and I was able to accept the condolences of the patrons with<br />calm instead of tears.<br />Jason came in at lunch and had a couple of beers with his hamburger, which wasn't his normal regimen.<br />He usually didn't drink during the work day. I knew he'd get mad if I said anything directly, so I just<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />asked him if everything was okay.<br />"The chief had me in again today," he said in a low voice. He looked around to make sure no one else<br />was listening, but the bar was sparsely filled that day since the Rotary Club was meeting at the<br />Community Building.<br />"What is he asking you?" My voice was equally low. "How often I'd seen Maudette, did I always get my<br />gas at the place she worked.... Over and over and over, like I hadn't answered those questions<br />seventy-five times. My boss is at the end of his patience, Sookie, and I don't blame him. I been gone<br />from work at least two days, maybe three, with all the trips I been making down to the police station."<br />"Maybe you better get a lawyer," I said uneasily. "That's what Rene said." Then Rene Lenier and I saw<br />eye to eye. "What about Sid Matt Lancaster?" Sidney Matthew Lancaster,<br />native son and a whiskey<br />sour drinker, had the reputation<br />of being the most aggressive trial lawyer in the parish. I liked him<br />because he always treated me with respect when I served him in the bar.<br />"He might be my best bet." Jason looked as petulant and grim as a lovely person can. We exchanged a<br />glance. We both knew Gran's lawyer was too old to handle the case if Jason was ever, God forbid,<br />arrested.<br />Jason was far too self-absorbed to notice anything different about me, but I'd worn a white golf shirt<br />(instead of my usual round-necked T-shirt) for the protection of its collar. Arlene was not as unaware as<br />my brother. She'd been eyeing me all morning, and by the time the three o'clock lull hit, she was pretty<br />sure she'd got me figured out. "Girl," she said, "you been having fun?" I turned red as a beet. "Having fun"<br />made my relationship with Bill lighter than it was, but it was accurate as far as itwent. I didn't know<br />whether to take the high road and say, "No, making love," or keep my mouth shut, or tell Arlene it was<br />none of her business, or just shout, "Yes!"<br />"Oh, Sookie, who is the man?"<br />Uh-oh. "Urn, well, he's not..."<br />"Not local? You dating one of those servicemen from Bossier<br />City?"<br />"No," I said hesitantly.<br />"Sam? I've seen him looking at you."<br />"No."<br />"Who, then?"<br />I was acting like I was ashamed. Straighten your spine, Sookie Stackhouse, I told myself sternly. Pay<br />the piper.<br />"Bill," I said, hoping against hope that she'd just say, "Oh, yeah."<br />"Bill," Arlene said blankly. I noticed Sam had drifted up and was listening. So was Charlsie Tooten.<br />Even Lafayette stuck his head through the hatch.<br />"Bill," I said, trying to sound firm. "You know. Bill."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Bill Auberjunois?"<br />"No."<br />"Bill... ?"<br />"Bill Compton," Sam said flatly, just as I opened my mouth to say the same thing. "Vampire Bill."<br />Arlene was flabbergasted, Charlsie Tooten immediately gave a little shriek, and Lafayette about dropped<br />his bottom jaw.<br />"Honey, couldn't you just date a regular human fella?" Arlene asked when she got her voice back.<br />"A regular human fella didn't ask me out." I could feel the color fix in my cheeks. I stood there with my<br />back straight, feeling defiant and looking it, I'm sure.<br />"But, sweetie," Charlsie Tooten fluted in her babyish voice, "honey ... Bill's, ah, got that virus."<br />"I know that," I said, hearing the distinct edge in my voice.<br />"I thought you were going to say you were dating a black, but you've gone one better, ain't you, girl?"<br />Lafayette said, picking at his fingernail polish.<br />Sam didn't say anything. He just stood leaning against thebar, and there was a white line around his<br />mouth as if he were biting his cheek inside.<br />I stared at them all in turn, forcing them to either swallow this or spit it out.<br />Arlene got through it first. "All right, then. He better treat you good, or we'll get our stakes out!"<br />They were all able to laugh at that, albeit weakly.<br />"And you'll save a lot on groceries!" Lafayette pointed out.<br />But then in one step Sam ruined it all, that tentative acceptance,<br />by suddenly moving to stand beside me<br />and pull the collar of my shirt down.<br />You could have cut the silence of my friends with a knife. "Oh, shit," Lafayette said, very softly. I looked<br />right into Sam's eyes, thinking I'd never forgive him for doing this to me.<br />"Don't you touch my clothes," I told him, stepping away from him and pulling the collar back straight.<br />"Don't tend to my personal life."<br />"I'm scared for you, I'm worried about you," he said, as Arlene and Charlsie hastily found other things to<br />do.<br />"No you're not, or not entirely. You're mad as hell. Well listen, buddy. Younever got in line."<br />And I stalked away to wipe down the formica on one of the tables. Then I collected all the salt shakers<br />and refilled them. Then I checked the pepper shakers and the bottles of hot peppers on each table and<br />booth, the Tabasco sauce, too. I just kept working and kept my eyes in front of me, and gradually, the<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />atmosphere cooled down.<br />Sam was back in his office doing paperwork or something, I didn't care what, as long as he kept his<br />opinions to himself. I still felt like he'd ripped the curtain off a private area of my life when he'd exposed<br />my neck, and I hadn't forgiven him. But Arlene and Charlsie had found make-work, as I'd done, and by<br />the time the after-work crowd began trickling in, we were once again fairly comfortable with one another.<br />Arlene came into the women's room with me. "Listen, Sookie, I got to ask. Are vampires all everyone<br />says they are, in the lover department?" I just smiled.<br />Bill came into the bar that evening, just after dark. I'd worked late since one of the evening waitresses<br />had had car trouble. One minute he wasn't there, and the next minute he was, slowing down so I could<br />see him coming. If Bill had any doubts about making our relationship public, he didn't show them. He<br />lifted my hand and kissed it in a gesture that performed by anyone else would have seemed phony as hell.<br />I felt the touch of his lips on the back of my hand all the way down to my toes, and I knew he could tell<br />that.<br />"How are you this evening?" he whispered, and I shivered.<br />"A little ..." I found I couldn't get the words out.<br />"You can tell me later," he suggested. "When are you through?"<br />"Just as soon as Susie gets here."<br />"Come to my house."<br />"Okay." I smiled up at him, feeling radiant and lightheaded.<br />And Bill smiled back, though since my nearness had affected<br />him, his fangs were showing, and maybe<br />to anyone else but me the effect was a little—unsettling.<br />He bent to kiss me, just a light touch on the cheek, and he turned to leave. But just at that moment, the<br />evening went all to hell.<br />Malcolm and Diane came in, flinging the door open as if they were making a grand entrance, and of<br />course, they were. I wondered where Liam was. Probably parking the car. It was too much to hope<br />they'd left him at home.<br />Folks in Bon Temps were getting accustomed to Bill, but the flamboyant Malcolm and the equally<br />flamboyant Diane caused quite a stir. My first thought was that this wasn't going to help people get used<br />to Bill and me.<br />Malcolm was wearing leather pants and a kind of chain-mail shirt. He looked like something on the<br />cover of a rock album. Diane was wearing a one-piece lime green bodysuit spun out of Lycra or some<br />other very thin, stretchy cloth. I was sure I could count her pubic hairs if I so desired. Blacks didn't come<br />into Merlotte's much, but if any black was absolutely<br />safe there, it was Diane. I saw Lafayette goggling<br />through the hatch in open admiration, spiced by a dollop of fear.<br />The two vampires shrieked with feigned surprise when they saw Bill, like demented drunks. As far as I<br />could tell, Bill was not happy about their presence, but he seemed to handle their invasion calmly, as he<br />did almost everything.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Malcolm kissed Bill on the mouth, and so did Diane. It was hard to tell which greeting was more<br />offensive to the customers in the bar. Bill had better show distaste, and quick, I thought, if he wanted to<br />stay in good with the human inhabitants<br />of Bon Temps.<br />Bill, who was no fool, took a step back and put his arm around me, dissociating himself from the<br />vampires and aligning<br />himself with the humans.<br />"So your little waitress is still alive," Diane said, and her clear voice was audible through the whole bar.<br />"Isn't that amazing."<br />"Her grandmother was murdered last week," Bill said quietly,<br />trying to subdue Diane's desire to make a<br />scene.<br />Her gorgeous lunatic brown eyes fixed on me, and I felt cold.<br />"Is that right?" she said and laughed.<br />That was it. No one would forgive her now. If Bill had been trying to find a way to entrench himself, this<br />would be the scenario I would write. On the other hand, the disgust I could feel massing from the humans<br />in the bar could backlash<br />and wash over Bill as well as the renegades.<br />Of course ... to Diane and her friends, Bill was the renegade.<br />"When's someone going to kill you, baby?" She ran a fingernail under my chin, and I knocked her hand<br />away.<br />She would have been on me if Malcolm hadn't grabbed her hand, lazily, almost effortlessly. But I saw<br />the strain show in the way he was standing.<br />"Bill," he said conversationally, as if he wasn't exerting every muscle he had to keep Diane still, "I hear<br />this town is losing its unskilled service personnel at a terrible rate. And a little bird in Shreveport tells me<br />you and your friend here were at Fangtasia asking questions about what vampire the murdered<br />fang-bangers might have been with."<br />"You know that's for us to know, no one else," Malcolm continued, and all of a sudden his face was so<br />serious it was<br />truly terrifying. "Some of us don't want to go to—baseball— games and ..." (here he was searching his<br />memory for something<br />disgustingly human, I could tell) "barbecues! We are Vampire!" He invested the<br />word with majesty, with glamor, and I could tell a lot of the people in the bar were falling under his spell.<br />Malcolm was intelligent enough to want to erase the bad impression he knew Diane had made, all the<br />while showering contempt on those of us it had been madeon.<br />I stomped on his instep with every ounce of weight I could muster. He showed his fangs at me. The<br />people in the bar blinked and shook themselves.<br />"Why don't you just get outta here, mister," Rene said. He was slouched at the bar with his elbows<br />flanking a beer.<br />There was moment when things hung in the balance, when the bar could have turned into a bloodbath.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />None of my fellow<br />humans seemed to quite comprehend how strong vampires<br />were, or how ruthless.<br />Bill had moved in front of me, a fact registered by every citizen in Merlotte's.<br />"Well, if we're not wanted..." Malcolm said. His thick-muscled masculinity warred with the fluting voice<br />he suddenly<br />affected. "These good people would like to eat meat, Diane, and do human things. By<br />themselves. Or with our former friend Bill."<br />"I think the little waitress would like to do a very human thing with Bill," Diane began, when Malcolm<br />caught her by the arm and propelled her from the room before she could cause more damage.<br />The entire bar seemed to shudder collectively when they were out the door, and I thought I better leave,<br />even though Susie hadn't shown up yet. Bill waited for me outside; when I asked him why, he said he<br />wanted to be sure they'd really left.<br />I followed Bill to his house, thinking we'd gotten off relatively<br />lightly from the vampire visitation. I<br />wondered why Diane and Malcolm had come; it seemed odd to me that they would be cruising so far<br />from home and decide, on a whim, to drop in Merlotte's. Since they were making no real effort at<br />assimilation, maybe they wanted to scotch Bill's prospects.<br />The Compton house was visibly different from the lasttime I'd been in, the sickening evening I'd met the<br />other vampires.<br />The contractors were really coming through for Bill, whether because they were scared not to or<br />because he was paying well, I didn't know. Maybe both. The living room was getting a new ceiling and<br />the new wallpaper was white with a delicate flowered pattern. The hardwood floors had been cleaned,<br />and they shone as they must have originally. Bill led me to the kitchen. It was sparse, naturally, but bright<br />and cheerful and had a brand-new refrigerator full of bottled synthetic blood (yuck).<br />The downstairs bathroom was opulent.<br />As far as I knew, Bill never used the bathroom; at least for the primary human function. I stared around<br />me in amazement.<br />The space for this grand bathroom had been achieved by including what had formerly been the pantry<br />and about half the old kitchen.<br />"I like to shower," he said, pointing to a clear shower stall in one corner. It was big enough for two<br />grownups and maybe a dwarf or two. "And I like to lie in warm water." He indicated the centerpiece of<br />the room, a huge sort of tub surrounded by an indoor deck of cedar, with steps on two sides. There<br />were potted plants arranged all around it. The room was as close to being in the middle of a very<br />luxurious jungle as you could get in northern Louisiana. "What is that?" I asked, awed.<br />"It's a portable spa," Bill said proudly. "It has jets you can adjust individually so each person can get the<br />right force of water. It's a hot tub," he simplified.<br />"It has seats," I said, looking in. The interior was decorated around the top with green and blue tiles.<br />There were fancy controls on the outside. Bill turned them, and water began to surge. "Maybe we can<br />bathe together?" Bill suggested. I felt my cheeks flame, and my heart began to pound a little faster.<br />"Maybe now?" Bill's fingers tugging at my shirt where it was tucked into my black shorts. "Oh, well...<br />maybe." I couldn't seem to look at himstraight when I thought of how this—okay, man—had seen more<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />of me than I'd ever let anyone see, including my doctor.<br />"Have you missed me?" he asked, his hands unbuttoning my shorts and peeling them down.<br />"Yes," I said promptly because I knew that to be true.<br />He laughed, even as he knelt to untie my Nikes. "What did you miss most, Sookie?"<br />"I missed your silence," I said without thinking at all.<br />He looked up. His fingers paused in the act of pulling the end of the bow to loosen it.<br />"My silence," he said.<br />"Not being able to hear your thoughts. You just can't imagine, Bill, how wonderful that is."<br />"I was thinking you'd say something else."<br />"Well, I missed that, too."<br />"Tell me about it," he invited, pulling my socks off and running his fingers up my thigh, tugging off the<br />panties and shorts.<br />"Bill! I'm embarrassed," I protested.<br />"Sookie, don't be embarrassed with me. Least of anyone, with me." He was standing now, divesting me<br />of my shirt and reaching behind me to unsnap my bra, running his hands over the marks the straps had<br />made on my skin, turning his attention to my breasts. He toed off his sandals at some point.<br />"I'll try," I said, looking at my own toes.<br />"Undress me."<br />Now that I could do. I unbuttoned his shirt briskly and eased it out of his pants and off his shoulders. I<br />unbuckled his belt and began to work on the waist button of his slacks. It was stiff, and I had quite a job.<br />I thought I was going to cry if the button didn't cooperate more. I felt clumsy and inept.<br />He took my hands and led them up to his chest. "Slow, Sookie, slow," he said, and his voice had gone<br />soft and shivery.<br />I could feel myself relaxing almost inch by inch, and I began to stroke his chest as he'd<br />stroked mine, twining the curly hair around my fingers and gently pinching his flat nipples. His hand went<br />behind my head and pressed gently. I hadn't known men liked that, but Bill sure did, so I paid equal<br />attention to the other one. While I was doing that, myhands resumed work on the damn button, and this<br />time it came undone with ease. I began pushing down his pants, sliding my fingers inside his Jockeys.<br />He helped me down into the spa, the water frothing around our legs.<br />"Shall I bathe you first?" he asked.<br />"No," I said breathlessly. "Give me the soap."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Chapter7<br />THE NEXT NIGHT BILL and I had an unsettling conversation.<br />We were in his bed, his huge bed with<br />the carved headboard and a brand-new Restonic mattress. His sheets were flowered like his wallpaper,<br />and I remember wondering if he liked flowers printed on his possessions because he couldn't see the real<br />thing, at least as they were meant to be seen ... in the daylight.<br />Bill was lying on his side, looking down at me. We'd been to the movies; Bill was crazy about movies<br />with aliens, maybe having some kindred feeling for space creatures. It had been a real shoot-em-up, with<br />almost all the aliens being ugly, creepy, bent on killing. He'd fumed about that while he'd taken me out to<br />eat, and then back to his place. I'd been glad when he'd suggested testing the new bed.<br />I was the first to he on it with him.<br />He was looking at me, as he liked to do, I was learning. Maybe he was listening to my heart pounding,<br />since he could hear things I couldn't, or maybe he was watching my pulse throb, because he could see<br />things I couldn't, too. Our conversation<br />had strayed from the movie we'd seen to the near-ing parish<br />elections (Bill was going to try to register to vote, absentee ballot), and then to our childhoods. I was<br />realizingthat Bill was trying desperately to remember what it had been like to be a regular person.<br />"Did you ever play 'show me yours' with your brother?" he asked. "They now say that's normal, but I<br />will never forget my mother beating the tarnation out of my brother Robert after she found him in the<br />bushes with Sarah."<br />"No," I said, trying to sound casual, but my face tightened, and I could feel the clenching of fear in my<br />stomach. "You're not telling the truth."<br />"Yes, I am." I kept my eyes fixed on his chin, hoping to think of some way to change the topic. But Bill<br />was nothing if not persistent.<br />"Not your brother, then. Who?"<br />"I don't want to talk about this." My hands contracted into fists, and I could feel myself begin to shut<br />down.<br />But Bill hated being evaded. He was used to people telling him whatever he wanted to know because he<br />was used to using his glamor to get his way.<br />"Tell me, Sookie." His voice was coaxing, his eyes big pools of curiosity. He ran his thumbnail down my<br />stomach, and I shivered.<br />"I had a ... funny uncle," I said, feeling the familiar tight smile stretch my lips.<br />He raised his dark arched brows. He hadn't heard the phrase.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />I said as distantly as I could manage, "That's an adult male relative who molests his ... the children in the<br />family."<br />His eyes began to burn. He swallowed; I could see his Adam's apple move. I grinned at him. My hands<br />were pulling my hair back from my face. I couldn't stop it.<br />"And someone did this to you? How old were you?"<br />"Oh, it started when I was real little," and I could feel my breathing begin to speed up, my heart beat<br />faster, the panicky traits that always came back when I remembered. My knees drew up and pressed<br />together. "I guess I was five," I babbled, talking faster and faster, "I know you can tell, he never actually,<br />ah, screwed me, but he did other stuff," and now my hands were shaking in front of my eyes where I held<br />them to shield them from Bill's gaze. "And the worst thing, Bill, the worst thing," I went on, just unable to<br />stop, "is that everytime he came to visit, I always knew what he was going to do because I could read his<br />mind! And there wasn't anything I could do to stop it!" I clamped my hands over my mouth to make<br />myself shut up. I wasn't supposed to talk about it. I rolled over onto my stomach to conceal myself, and<br />held my body absolutely rigid.<br />After a long time, I felt Bill's cool hand on my shoulder. It lay there, comforting.<br />"This was before your parents died?" he said in his usual calm voice. I still couldn't look at him.<br />"Yes."<br />"You told your mama? She did nothing?"<br />"No. She thought I was dirty minded, or that I'd found some book at the library that taught me<br />something she didn't feel I was ready to know." I could remember her face, framed in hair about two<br />shades darker than my medium blond. Her face pinched with distaste. She had come from a very<br />conservative<br />family, and any public display of affection or any mention of a subject she thought indecent<br />was flatly discouraged.<br />"I wonder that she and my father seemed happy," I told my vampire. "They were so different." Then I<br />saw how ludicrous<br />my saying that was. I rolled over to my side. "As if we aren't," I told Bill, and tried to<br />smile. Bill's face was quite still, but I could see a muscle in his neck jumping.<br />"Did you tell your father?"<br />"Yes, right before he died. I was too embarrassed to talk to him about it when I was younger; and<br />Mother didn't believe<br />me. But I couldn't stand it anymore, knowing I was going to see my great-uncle<br />Bartlett at least two weekends out of every month when he drove up to visit."<br />"He still lives?"<br />"Uncle Bartlett? Oh, sure. He's Gran's brother, and Gran was my dad's mother. My uncle lives in<br />Shreveport. But when Jason and I went to live with Gran, after my parents died, the first time Uncle<br />Bartlett came to her house I hid. When she found me and asked me why, I told her. And she believed<br />me." I felt the relief of that day all over again, the beautiful sound of my grandmother's voice promising me<br />I'dnever have to see her brother again, that he would never never come to the house.<br />And he hadn't. She had cut off her own brother to protect me. He'd tried with Gran's daughter, Linda,<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />too, when she was a small girl, but my grandmother had buried the incident in her own mind, dismissed it<br />as something misunderstood. She had told me that she'd never left her brother alone with Linda at any<br />time after that, had almost quit inviting him to her home, while not quite letting herself believe that he'd<br />touched her little girl's privates.<br />"So he's a Stackhouse, too?"<br />"Oh, no. See, Gran became a Stackhouse when she married,<br />but she was a Hale before." I wondered<br />at having to spell this out for Bill. He was sure Southern enough, even if he was a vampire, to keep track<br />of a simple family relationship<br />like that.<br />Bill looked distant, miles away. I had put him off with my grim nasty little story, and I had chilled my own<br />blood, that was for sure.<br />"Here, I'll leave," I said and slid out of bed, bending to retrieve my clothes. Quicker than I could see, he<br />was off the bed and taking the clothes from my hands.<br />"Don't leave me now," he said. "Stay."<br />"I'm a weepy ol' thing tonight." Two tears trickled down my cheeks, and I smiled at him.<br />His fingers wiped the tears from my face, and his tongue traced their marks.<br />"Stay with me till dawn," he said.<br />"But you have to get in your hidey hole by then." .,<br />"My what?"<br />"Wherever you spend the day. I don't want to know where it is!" I held up my hands to emphasize that.<br />"But don't you have to get in there before it's even a little light?"<br />"Oh," he said, "I'll know. I can feel it coming."<br />"So you can't oversleep?"<br />"No."<br />"All right. Will you let me get some sleep?"<br />"Of course I will," he said with a gentlemanly bow, only a little off mark because he was naked. "In a<br />little while."<br />Then, as I lay down on the bed and held out my arms to him, he said, "Eventually."<br />SURE ENOUGH, IN the morning I was in the bed by myself. I lay there for a little, thinking. I'd had<br />little niggling thoughts from time to time, but for the first time the flaws in my relationship with the vampire<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />hopped out of their own hidey hole and took over my brain.<br />I would never see Bill in the sunlight. I would never fix his breakfast, never meet him for lunch. (He could<br />bear to watch me eat food, though he wasn't thrilled by the process, and I always had to brush my teeth<br />afterward very thoroughly,<br />which was a good habit anyway.)<br />I could never have a child by Bill, which was nice at least when you thought of not having to practice<br />birth control, but...<br />I'd never call Bill at the office to ask him to stop on the way home for some milk. He'd never join the<br />Rotary, or give a career speech at the high school, or coach Little League Baseball.<br />He'd never go to church with me.<br />And I knew that now, while I lay here awake—listening to the birds chirping their morning sounds and<br />the trucks beginning to rumble down the road while all over Bon Temps people were getting up and<br />putting on the coffee and fetching their papers and planning their day—that the creature I loved was lying<br />somewhere in a hole underground, to all intents and purposes dead until dark.<br />I was so down by then that I had to think of an upside, while I cleaned up a little in the bathroom and<br />dressed.<br />He seemed to genuinely care for me. It was kind of nice, but unsettling, not to know exactly how much.<br />Sex with him was absolutely great. I had never dreamed it would be that wonderful.<br />No one would mess with me while I was Bill's girlfriend. Any hands that had patted me in unwanted<br />caresses were kept in their owner's laps, now. And if the person who'd killed my grandmother had killed<br />her because she'd walkedin on him while he was waiting for me, he wouldn't get another try at me.<br />And I could relax with Bill, a luxury so precious I could not put a value on it. My mind could range at<br />will, and I would not learn anything he didn't tell me.<br />There was that.<br />It was in this kind of contemplative mood that I came down Bill's steps to my car.<br />To my amazement, Jason was there sitting in his pickup.<br />This was not exactly a happy moment. I trudged over to his window.<br />"I see it's true," he said. He handed me a Styrofoam cup of coffee from the Grabbit Quik. "Get in the<br />truck with me." I climbed in, pleased by the coffee but cautious overall. I put my guard up immediately. It<br />slipped back into place slowly and painfully, like wiggling back into a girdle that was too tight in the first<br />place.<br />"I can't say nothing," he told me. "Not after the way I lived my life these past few years. As near as I can<br />tell, he's your first, isn't he?" I nodded.<br />"He treat you good?" I nodded again. "I got something to tell you." "Okay."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Uncle Bartlett got killed last night." I stared at him, the steam from the coffee rising between us as I<br />pried the lid off the cup. "He's dead," I said, trying to understand it. I'd worked hard never to think of<br />him, and here I thought of him, and the next thing I heard, he was dead. "Yep."<br />"Wow." I looked out the window at the rosy light on the horizon. I felt a surge of—freedom. The only<br />one who remembered<br />besides me, the only one who'd enjoyed it, who insisted to the end that I had<br />initiated and continued the sick activities he thought were so gratifying... he wasdead. I took a deep<br />breath. "I hope he's in hell," I said. "I hope every time he thinksof what he did to me, a demon pokes him<br />in the butt with a pitchfork."<br />"God, Sookie!"<br />"He never messed with you."<br />"Damn straight!"<br />"Implying what?"<br />"Nothing, Sookie! But he never bothered anyone but you that I know of!"<br />"Bullshit. He molested Aunt Linda, too."<br />Jason's face went blank with shock. I'd finally gotten through to my brother. "Gran told you that?"<br />"Yes."<br />"She never said anything to me."<br />"Gran knew it was hard for you, not seeing him again when she could tell you loved him. But she couldn't<br />let you be alone with him, because she couldn't be a hundred percent sure girls were all he wanted."<br />"I've seen him the past couple of years."<br />"You have?" This was news to me. It would have been news to Gran, too.<br />"Sookie, he was an old man. He was so sick. He had prostate trouble, and he was feeble, and he had to<br />use a walker."<br />"That probably slowed him down chasing the five-year-olds."<br />"Get over it!"<br />"Right! Like I could!"<br />We glared at each other over the width of the truck seat.<br />"So what happened to him?" I asked finally, reluctantly.<br />"A burglar broke into his house last night."<br />"Yeah? And?"<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"And broke his neck. Threw him down the stairs."<br />"Okay. So I know. Now I'm going home. I gotta shower and get ready for work."<br />"That's all you're saying?"<br />"What else is there to say?"<br />"Don't want to know about the funeral?"<br />"No."<br />"Don't want to know about his will?"<br />"No."<br />He threw up his hands. "All right," he said, as if he'd been arguing a point very hard with me and realized<br />that I was intractable.<br />"What else? Anything?" I asked.<br />"No. Just your great-uncle dying. I thought that was enough."<br />"Actually, you're right," I said, opening the truck door and sliding out. "That was enough." I raised my<br />cup to him. "Thanks for the coffee, brother."<br />itwasn't tillI got to work that it clicked.<br />I was drying a glass and really not thinking about Uncle Bartlett, and suddenly my fingers lost all strength.<br />"Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea," I said, looking down at the broken slivers of glass at my feet. "Bill<br />had him killed."<br />1don't KNOW why I was so sure I was right; but I was, the minute the idea crossed my mind. Maybe I<br />had heard Bill dialing the phone when I was half-asleep. Maybe the expression on Bill's face when I'd<br />finished telling him about Uncle Bartlett had rung a silent warning bell.<br />I wondered if Bill would pay the other vampire in money, or if he'd repay him in kind.<br />I got through work in a frozen state. I couldn't talk to anyone about what I was thinking, couldn't even<br />say I was sick without someone asking me what was wrong. So I didn't speak at all, I just worked. I<br />tuned out everything except the next order I had to fill. I drove home trying to feel just as frozen, but I<br />had to face facts when I was alone. I freaked out.<br />I had known, really I had, that Bill certainly had killed a human or two in his long, long, life. When he'd<br />been a young vampire, when he'd needed lots of blood, before he'd gained control of his needs<br />sufficiently to exist on a gulp here, a mouthful there, without actually killing anyone he drank from ... he'd<br />told me himself there'd been a death or two along the way. And he'd killed the Rattrays. But they'd have<br />done me in that night in back of Merlotte's, without a doubt,if Bill hadn't intervened. I was naturally<br />inclined to excuse him those deaths.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />How was the murder of Uncle Bartlett different? He'd harmed me, too, dreadfully, made my already<br />difficult childhood<br />a true nightmare. Hadn't I been relieved, even pleased, to hear he'd been found dead?<br />Didn't my horror at Bill's intervention reek of hypocrisy of the worst sort?<br />Yes. No?<br />Tired and incredibly confused, I sat on my front steps and waited in the darkness, my arms wrapped<br />around my knees. The crickets were singing in the tall grass when he came, arriving so quietly and quickly<br />I didn't hear him. One minute 1 was alone with the night, and the next, Bill was sitting on the steps beside<br />me.<br />"What do you want to do tonight, Sookie?" His arm went around me.<br />"Oh, Bill." My voice was heavy with despair.<br />His arm dropped. I didn't look up at his face, couldn't have seen it through the darkness, anyway.<br />"You should not have done it."<br />He didn't bother with denying it at least.<br />"I am glad he's dead, Bill. But I can't..."<br />"Do you think I would ever hurt you, Sookie?" His voice was quiet and rustling, like feet through dry<br />grass.<br />"No. Oddly enough, I don't think you would hurt me, even if you were really mad at me."<br />"Then...?"<br />"It's like dating the Godfather, Bill. I'm scared to say anything<br />around you now. I'm not used to my<br />problems being solved that way."<br />"I love you."<br />He'd never said it before, and I might almost have imagined<br />it now, his voice was so low and whispery.<br />"Do you, Bill?" I didn't raise my face, kept my forehead pressed against my knees.<br />"Yes, I do."<br />"Then you have to let my life get lived, Bill, you can't alter it for me."<br />"You wanted me to alter it when the Rattrays were beating you."<br />"Point taken. But I can't have you trying to fine-tune my day-to-day life. I'm gonna get mad at people,<br />people are gonna get mad at me. I can't worry about them being killed. I can't live like that, honey. You<br />see what I'm saying?"<br />"Honey?" he repeated.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"I love you," I said. "I don't know why, but I do. I want to call you all those gooshy words you use when<br />you love someone, no matter how stupid it sounds since you're a vampire.<br />I want to tell you you're my<br />baby, that I'll love you till we're old and gray—though that's not gonna happen. That I know you'll always<br />be true to me—hey, that's not gonna happen either. I keep running up against a brick wall when I try to<br />tell you I love you, Bill." I fell silent. I was all cried out.<br />"This crisis came sooner than I thought it would,"Bill said from the darkness. The crickets had resumed<br />their chorus, and I listened to them for a long moment.<br />"Yeah."<br />"What now, Sookie?"<br />"I have to have a little time."<br />"Before ... ?"<br />"Before I decide if the love is worth the misery."<br />"Sookie, if you knew how different you taste, how much I want to protect you ..."<br />I could tell from Bill's voice that these were very tender feelings he was sharing with me. "Oddly<br />enough," I said, "that's what I feel about you. But I have to live here, and I have to live with myself, and I<br />have to think about some rales we gotta get clear between us."<br />"So what do we do now?"<br />"I think. You go do whatever you were doing before we met."<br />"Trying to figure out if I could live mainstream. Trying to think of who I'd feed on, if I could stop drinking<br />that damn synthetic blood."<br />"I know you'll—feed on someone else besides me." I was trying very hard to keep my voice level.<br />"Please, not anyone here, not anyone I have to see. I couldn't bear it. It's not fair of me to ask, but I'm<br />asking."<br />"If you won't date anyone else, won't bed anyone else."<br />"I won't." That seemed an easy enough promise to make.<br />"Will you mind if I come into the bar?"<br />"No. I'm not telling anyone we're apart. I'm not talking about it."<br />He leaned over, I could feel the pressure on my arm as his body pressed against it.<br />"Kiss me," he said.<br />I lifted my head and turned, and our lips met. It was blue fire, not orange-and-red flames, not that kind<br />of heat: blue fire. After a second, his arms went around me. After another, my arms went around him. I<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />began to feel boneless, limp. With a gasp, I pulled away.<br />"Oh, we can't, Bill."<br />I heard his breath draw in. "Of course not, if we're separating,"<br />he said quietly, but he didn't sound like<br />he thought I meant it. "We should definitely not be kissing. Still less should I want to throw you back on<br />the porch and fuck you till you faint."<br />My knees were actually shaking. His deliberately crude language, coming out in that cold sweet voice,<br />made the longing inside me surge even higher. It took everything I had, every little scrap of self-control,<br />to push myself up and go in the house.<br />But I did it.<br />IN THE FOLLOWING week, I began to craft a life without Gran and without Bill. I worked nights and<br />worked hard. I was extra careful, for the first time in my life, about locks and security. There was a<br />murderer out there, and I no longer had my powerful protector. I considered getting a dog, but couldn't<br />decide what kind I wanted. My cat, Tina, was only protection in the sense that she always reacted when<br />someone came very near the house.<br />I got calls from Gran's lawyer from time to time, informing<br />me about the progress of winding up her<br />estate. I got calls from Bartlett's lawyer. My great-uncle had left me twenty thousand dollars, a great sum<br />for him. I almost turned down the legacy. But I thought again. I gave the money to the local mental health<br />center, earmarking it for the treatmentof children who were victims of molestation and rape.<br />They were glad to get it.<br />I took vitamins, loads of them, because I was a little anemic.<br />I drank lots of fluids and ate lots of<br />protein.<br />And I ate as much garlic as I wanted, something Bill hadn't been able to tolerate. He said it came out<br />through my pores, even, when I had garlic bread with spaghetti and meat sauce one night.<br />I slept and slept and slept. Staying up nights after a work shift had me rest-deprived.<br />After three days I felt restored, physically. In fact, it seemed to me that I was a little stronger than I had<br />been. I began to take in what was happening around me. The first thing I noticed was that local folks<br />were really pissed off at the vampires who nested in Monroe. Diane, Liam, and Malcolm had been<br />touring bars in the area, apparently<br />trying to make it impossible for other vampires who wanted to<br />mainstream. They'd been behaving outrageously, offensively. The three vampires made the escapades of<br />the Louisiana Tech students look bland.<br />They didn't seem to ever imagine they were endangering themselves. The freedom of being out of the<br />coffin had gone to their heads. The right to legally exist had withdrawn all their constraints, all their<br />prudence and caution. Malcolm nipped at a bartender in Bogaloosas. Diane danced naked in<br />Farmerville. Liam dated an underage girl in Shongaloo, and her mother, too. He took blood from both.<br />He didn't erase the memory of either.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Rene was talking to Mike Spencer, the funeral director, in Merlotte's one Thursday night, and they<br />hushed when I got near. Naturally, that caught my attention. So I read Mike's mind. A group of local men<br />were thinking of burning out the Monroe vampires.<br />I didn't know what to do. The three were, if not exactly friends of Bill, at least sort of coreligionists. But I<br />loathed Malcolm, Diane, and Liam just as much as anyone else. On the other hand; and boy—there<br />always was- another hand, wasn't there?—it just went against my grain to know ahead of the fact about<br />premeditated murders and just sit on my hands.<br />Maybe this was all liquor talking. Just to check, I dipped into the minds of the people around me. To my<br />dismay, many of them were thinking about torching the vampire's nest. But I couldn't track down the<br />origin of the idea. It felt as though the poison had flowed from one mind and infected others.<br />There wasn't any proof, any proof at all, that Maudette and Dawn and my grandmother had been killed<br />by a vampire.<br />In fact, rumor had it that the coroner's report might show evidence against that. But the<br />three vampires were behaving<br />in such a way that people wanted to blame them for something, wanted to<br />get rid of them, and since Maudette and Dawn were both vampire-bitten and habitues of vampire bars,<br />well, folks just cobbled that together to pound out a conviction.<br />Bill came in the seventh night I'd been alone. He appeared at his table quite suddenly. He wasn't by<br />himself. There was a boy with him, a boy who looked maybe fifteen. He was a vampire, too.<br />"Sookie, this is Harlen Ives from Minneapolis," Bill said, as if this were an ordinary introduction.<br />"Harlen," I said, and nodded. "Pleased to meet you."<br />"Sookie." He bobbed his head at me, too.<br />"Harlen is in transit from Minnesota to New Orleans," Bill said, sounding positively chatty.<br />"I'm going on vacation," Harlen said. "I've been wanting to visit New Orleans for years. It's just a mecca<br />for us, you know."<br />"Oh ... right," I said, trying to sound matter of fact.<br />"There's this number you can call," Harlen informed me. "You can stay with an actual resident, or you<br />can rent a ..."<br />"Coffin?" I asked brightly.<br />"Well, yes."<br />"How nice for you," I said, smiling for all I was worth. "What can I get you? I believe Sam has restocked<br />the blood, Bill, if you'd like some? It's flavored A neg, or we've got the O positive."<br />"Oh, A negative, I think," Bill said, after he and Harlen had a silent communication.<br />"Coming right up!" I stomped back to the cooler behind the bar and pulled out two A neg's, popped the<br />tops, and<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />carted them back on a tray, I smiled the whole time, just like I used to.<br />"Are you all right, Sookie?" Bill asked in a more natural voice after I'd plonked their drinks down in front<br />of them.<br />"Of course, Bill," I said cheerily. I wanted to break the bottle over Bill's head. Harlen, indeed. Overnight<br />stay. Right.<br />"Harlen would like to drive over to visit Malcolm, later," Bill said, when I came to take the empties and<br />ask if they wanted a refill.<br />"I'm sure Malcolm would love to meet Harlen," I said, trying not to sound as bitchy as I felt.<br />"Oh, meeting Bill has just been super," Harlen said, smiling<br />at me, showing fangs. Harlen knew how to<br />do bitch, all right. "But Malcolm is absolutely a legend."<br />"Watch out," I said to Bill. I wanted to tell him how much peril the three nesting vampires had put<br />themselves into, but I didn't think it'd come to a head just yet. And I didn't want to spell it out because<br />Harlen was sitting there, batting his baby blues at me and looking like a teen sex symbol. "Nobody's<br />too<br />happy with those three, right now," I added, after a moment. It was not an effectual warning.<br />Bill just looked at me, puzzled, and I spun on my heel and walked away.<br />I came to regret that moment, regret it bitterly.<br />AFTER BILL AND Harlen had left, the bar buzzed even harder with the kind of talk I'd heard from<br />Rene and Mike Spencer. It seemed to me like someone had been lighting fire, keeping the anger level<br />stoked up. But for the life of me I couldn't discover who it was, though I did some random listening, both<br />mental and physical. Jason came into the bar, and we said hello, but not much more. He hadn't forgiven<br />me for my reaction to Uncle Bartlett's death.<br />He'd get over it. At least he wasn't thinking about burning anything, except maybe creating some heat in<br />Liz Barrett's bed. Liz, even younger than me, had curly short brown hair and big brown eyes and an<br />unexpectedly no-nonsense air about her that made me think Jason might have met his match. After I'd<br />said good-bye to them after their pitcher ofbeer was empty, I realized that the anger level in the bar had<br />escalated, that the men were really serious about doing something.<br />I began to be more than anxious.<br />As the evening wore on, the activity in the bar grew more and more frenetic. Less women, more men.<br />More table-hopping. More drinking. Men were standing, instead of sitting.<br />It was hard to pin down,<br />since there wasn't any big meeting, really. It was by word-of-mouth, whispered from ear to ear. No one<br />jumped on the bar and screamed, "Whatta ya say, boys? Are we gonna put up with those monsters in<br />our midst? To the castle!" or anything like that. It was just that, after a time, they all began drifting out,<br />standing in huddled groups out in the parking lot. I looked out one of the windows at them, shaking my<br />head. This wasn't good.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Sam was uneasy, too.<br />"What do you think?" I asked him, and I realized this was the first time I'd spoken to him all evening,<br />other than "Pass the pitcher," or "Give me another margarita."<br />"I think we've got a mob," he said. "But they'll hardly go over to Monroe now. The vampires'll be up and<br />about until dawn."<br />"Where is their house, Sam?"<br />"I understand it's on the outskirts of Monroe on the west side—in other words, closest to us," he told<br />me. "I don't know for sure."<br />I drove home after closing, half hoping I'd see Bill lurking in my driveway so I could tell him what was<br />afoot.<br />But I didn't see him, and I wouldn't go to his house. After a long hesitation, I dialed his number, but got<br />only his answering<br />machine. I left a message. I had no idea what the three nesting vampires' phone was<br />listed under, if they had a phone at all.<br />As I pulled off my shoes and removed my jewelry—all silver, take that, Bill!—I remember worrying, but<br />I wasn't worrying enough. I went to bed and quickly to sleep in the bedroom that was now mine. The<br />moonlight streamed in the open shades, making strange shadows on the floor. But I only stared at them<br />for a few minutes. Bill didn't wake me that night, returning my call.<br />BUTTHE PHONE did ring, early in the morning, after daylight.<br />"What?" I asked, dazed, the receiver pressed to my ear. I peered at the clock. It was seven-thirty.<br />"They burned the vampires' house," Jason said. "I hope yours wasn't in it."<br />"What?" I asked again, but my voice was panicked now.<br />"They burned the vampires' house outside of Monroe. After<br />sunrise. It's on Callista Street, west of<br />Archer."<br />I remembered Bill saying he might take Harlen over there. Had he stayed?<br />"No." I said it definitely.<br />"Yes."<br />"I have to go," I said, hanging up the phone.<br />itsmolderedIN the bright sunlight. Wisps of smoke trailed up into the blue sky. Charred wood looked<br />like alligator<br />skin. Fire trucks and law enforcement cars were parked helter-skelter on the lawn of the<br />two-story house. A group of the curious stood behind yellow tape.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />The remains of four coffins sat side by side on the scorched grass. There was a body bag, too. I began<br />to walk toward them, but for the longest time they seemed to be no closer; it was like one of those<br />dreams where you can never reach your goal.<br />Someone grabbed my arm and tried to stop me. I can't remember what I said, but I remember a<br />horrified face. I trudged on through the debris, inhaling the smell of burned things, wet charred things, a<br />smell that wouldn't leave me the rest of my life.<br />I reached the first coffin and looked in. What was left of the lid was open to the light. The sun was<br />coming up; any moment now it would kiss the dreadful thing resting on soggy, white silk lining.<br />Was it Bill? There was no way to tell. The corpse was disintegrating bit by bit even as I watched. Tiny<br />fragments flaked off and blew into the breeze, or disappeared in a tinypuff of smoke where the sun's rays<br />began to touch the body.<br />Each coffin held a similar horror.<br />Sam was standing by me.<br />"Can you call this murder, Sam?"<br />He shook his head. "I just don't know, Sookie. Legally, killing the vampires is murder. But you'd have to<br />prove arson first, though I don't think that'd be very hard." We could both smell gasoline. There were<br />men buzzing around the house, climbing here and there, yelling to each other. It didn't appear to me that<br />these men were conducting any serious crime-scene investigation.<br />"But this body here, Sookie." Sam pointed to the body bag on the grass. "This was a real human, and<br />they have to investigate.<br />I don't think any member of that mob ever realized there might be a human in<br />there, ever considered anything besides what they did."<br />"So why are you here, Sam?"<br />"For you," he said simply.<br />"I won't know if it's Bill all day, Sam."<br />"Yes, I know."<br />"What am I supposed to do all day? How can I wait?"<br />"Maybe some drugs," he suggested. "What about sleeping pills or something?"<br />"I don't have anything like that," I said. "I've never had trouble sleeping."<br />This conversation was getting odder and odder, but I don't think I could have said anything else.<br />A big man was in front of me, the local law. He was sweating in the morning heat, and he looked like<br />he'd been up for hours. Maybe he'd been on the night shift and had to stay on when the fire started.<br />When men I knew had started the fire.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Did you know these people, miss?"<br />"Yes, I did. I'd met them."<br />"Can you identify the remains?"<br />"Who could identify that?" I asked incredulously.<br />The bodies were almost gone now, featureless and disintegrating.<br />He looked sick. "Yes, ma'am. But the person."<br />"I'll look," I said before I had time to think. The habit of being helpful was mighty hard to break.<br />As if he could tell I was about to change my mind, the big man knelt on the singed grass and unzipped<br />the bag. The sooty face inside was that of a girl I'd never met. I thanked God.<br />"I don't know her," I said, and felt my knees give. Sam caught me before I was on the ground, and I had<br />to lean against him.<br />"Poor girl," I whispered. "Sam, I don't know what to do." . The law took part of my time that day. They<br />wanted to know everything I knew about the vampires who had owned the house, and I told them, but it<br />didn't amount to much. Malcolm, Diane, Liam. Where they'd come from, their age, why they'd settled in<br />Monroe, who their lawyers were; how would I know anything like that? I'd never even been to their<br />house before.<br />When my questioner, whoever he was, found out that I'd met them through Bill, he wanted to know<br />where Bill was, how he could contact him.<br />"He may be right there," I said, pointing to the fourth coffin. "I won't know till dark." My hand rose of its<br />own volition and covered my mouth.<br />Just then one of the firemen started to laugh, and his companion,<br />too. "Southern fried vampires!" the<br />shorter one hooted to the man who was questioning me. "We got us some Southern fried vampires here!"<br />He didn't think it was so damn funny when I kicked him. Sam pulled me off and the man who'd been<br />questioning me grabbed the fireman I'd attacked. I was screaming like a banshee<br />and would have gone<br />for him again if Sam had let go. But he didn't. He dragged me toward my car, his hands just as strong as<br />bands of iron. I had a sudden vision of how ashamed my grandmother would have been to see me<br />screaming at a public servant, to see me physically attack someone. The idea pricked my crazy hostility<br />like a needle puncturing a balloon. I let Sam shove me into the passenger's seat, and when he started the<br />car and began backing away, I let him drive me home while I sat in utter silence. We got to my house all<br />too soon. It was only ten o'clockin the morning. Since it was daylight savings time I had at least ten plus<br />hours to wait.<br />Sam made some phone calls while I sat on the couch staring<br />ahead of me. Five minutes had passed<br />when he came back into the living room.<br />"Come on, Sookie," he said briskly. "These blinds are filthy."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"What?"<br />"The blinds. How could you have let them go like this?"<br />"What?"<br />"We're going to clean. Get a bucket and some ammonia and some rags. Make some coffee."<br />Moving slowly and cautiously, afraid I might dry up and blow away like the bodies in the coffins, I did as<br />he bid me.<br />Sam had the curtains down on the living-room windows by the time I got back with the bucket and rags.<br />"Where's the washing machine?"<br />"Back there, off the kitchen," I said, pointing.<br />Sam went back to the washroom with an armful of curtains.<br />Gran had washed those not a month ago,<br />for Bill's visit. I didn't say a word.<br />I lowered one of the blinds, closed it, and began washing. When the blinds were clean, we polished the<br />windows themselves.<br />It began raining about the middle of the morning. We couldn't get the outside. Sam<br />got the long-handled dust mop and got the spider webs out of the corners of the high ceiling, and I wiped<br />down the baseboards. He took down the mirror over the mantel, dusted the parts that we couldn't<br />normally reach, and then we cleaned the mirror and rehung it. I cleaned the old marble fireplace till there<br />wasn't a trace of winter's fire left. I got a pretty screen and put it over the fireplace, one painted with<br />magnolia blossoms. I cleaned the television screen and had Sam lift it so I could dust underneath. I put all<br />the movies back in their own boxes and labeled what I'd taped. I took all the cushions off the couch and<br />vacuumed up the debris that had collected beneath them, finding a dollar and five cents in change. I<br />vacuumed the carpet and used the dust mop on the wood floors.<br />We moved into the dining room and polished everything that could be polished. When the wood of the<br />table and chairswas gleaming, Sam asked me how long it'd been since I'd done Gran's silver.<br />I hadn't ever polished Gran's silver. We opened the buffet to find that, yes, it certainly needed it. So into<br />the kitchen we carried it, and we found the silver polish, and we polished away. The radio was on, but I<br />gradually realized that Sam was turning it off every time the news began.<br />We cleaned all day. It rained all day. Sam only spoke to me to direct me to the next task.<br />I worked very hard. So did he.<br />By the time the light was growing dim, I had the cleanest house in Renard Parish.<br />Sam said, "I'm going now, Sookie. I think you want to be alone."<br />"Yes," I said. "I want to thank you some time, but I can't thank you now. You saved me today."<br />I felt his lips on my forehead and then a minute later I heard the door slam. I sat at the table while the<br />darkness began to fill the kitchen. When I almost could not see, I went outside. I took my big flashlight.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />It didn't matter that it was still raining. I had on a sleeveless<br />denim dress and a pair of sandals, what I'd<br />pulled on that morning after Jason had called me.<br />I stood in the pouring warm rain, my hair plastered to my skull and my dress clinging wetly to my skin. I<br />turned left to the woods and began to make my way through them, slowly and carefully at first. As Sam's<br />calming influence began<br />to evaporate, I began to run, tearing my cheeks on branches, scratching my legs<br />on thorny vines. I came out of the woods and began to dash through the cemetery, the beam of the<br />flashlight bobbing before me. I had thought I was going to the house on the other side, the Compton<br />house: but then I knew Bill must be here, somewhere in this six acres of bones and stones. I stood in the<br />center of the oldest part of the graveyard, surrounded by monuments and modest tombstones, in the<br />company of the dead.<br />I screamed, "Bill Compton! Come out now!"<br />I turned in circles, looking around in the near-blackness, knowing even if I couldn't see him, Bill would<br />be able to see me, if he could see anything—if he wasn't one of thoseblackened, flaking atrocities I'd<br />seen in the front yard of the house outside Monroe.<br />No sound. No movement except the falling of the gentle drenching rain.<br />"Bill! Bill! Come out!"<br />I felt, rather than heard, movement to my right. I turned the beam of the flashlight in that direction. The<br />ground was buckling. As I watched, a white hand shot up from the red soil. The dirt began to heave and<br />crumble. A figure climbed out of the ground.<br />"Bill?"<br />It moved toward me. Covered with red streaks, his hair full of dirt, Bill took a hesitant step in my<br />direction.<br />I couldn't even go to him.<br />"Sookie," he said, very close to me, "why are you here?" For once, he sounded disoriented and<br />uncertain.<br />I had to tell him, but I couldn't open my mouth.<br />"Sweetheart?"<br />I went down like a stone. I was abruptly on my knees in the sodden grass.<br />"What happened while I slept?" He was kneeling by me, bare and streaming with rain.<br />"You don't have clothes oh," I murmured.<br />"They'd just get dirty," he said sensibly. "When I'm going to sleep in the soil. I take them off."<br />"Oh. Sure."<br />"Now you have to tell me."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"You have to not hate me."<br />"What have you done?"<br />"Oh my God, it wasn't me! But I could have warned you more, I could have grabbed you and made you<br />listen. I tried to call you, Bill!"<br />"What has happened?"<br />I put one hand on either side of his face, touching his skin, realizing how much I would have lost, how<br />much I might yet lose.<br />"They're dead, Bill, the vampires from Monroe. And someone else with them."<br />"Harlen," he said tonelessly. "Harlen stayed over lastnight, he and Diane really hit if off." He waited for<br />me to finish, his eyes fixed on mine.<br />"They were burned."<br />"On purpose."<br />"Yes."<br />He squatted beside me in the rain, in the dark, his face not visible to me. The flashlight was gripped in my<br />hand, and all my strength had ebbed away. I could feel his anger.<br />I could feel his cruelty.<br />I could feel his hunger.<br />He had never been more completely vampire. There wasn't anything human in him.<br />He turned his face to the sky and howled.<br />I thought he might kill someone, the rage rolling off him was so great. And the nearest person was me.<br />As I comprehended my own danger, Bill gripped my upper arms. He pulled me to him, slowly. There<br />was no point in struggling, in fact I sensed that would only excite Bill more. Bill held me about an inch<br />from him, I could almost smell his skin, and I could feel the turmoil in him, I could taste his rage.<br />Directing that energy in another way might save me. I leaned that inch, put my mouth on his chest. I<br />licked the rain off, rubbed my cheek against his nipple, pressed myself against him.<br />The next moment his teeth grazed my shoulder, and his body, hard and rigid and ready, shoved me so<br />forcefully I was suddenly on my back in the mud. He slid directly into me as if he were trying to reach<br />through me to the soil. I shrieked, and he growled in response, as though we were truly mud people,<br />primitives from caves. My hands, gripping the flesh of his back, felt the rain pelting down and the blood<br />under my nails, and his relentless movement. I thought I would be plowed into this mud, into my grave.<br />His fangs sank into my neck.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Suddenly I came. Bill howled as he reached his own completion,<br />and he collapsed on me, his fangs<br />pulling out and his tongue cleaning the puncture marks. I had thought he might kill me without even<br />meaning to. My muscles would not obey me, even if I had known whatI wanted to do. Bill scooped me<br />up. He took me to his house, pushing open the door and carrying me straight through into the large<br />bathroom. Laying me gently on the carpet, where I spread mud and rainwater and a little streak of blood,<br />Bill turned on the warm water in the spa, and when it was full he put me in and then got in himself. We sat<br />on the seats, our legs trailing out in the warm frothing water that became discolored quickly.<br />Bill's eyes were staring miles away.<br />"All dead?" he said, his voice nearly inaudible.<br />"All dead, and a human girl, too," I said quietly.<br />"What have you been doing all day?"<br />"Cleaning. Sam made me clean my house."<br />"Sam," Bill said thoughtfully. "Tell me, Sookie. Can you read Sam's mind?"<br />"No," I confessed, suddenly exhausted. I submerged my head, and when I came up, Bill had gotten the<br />shampoo bottle. He soaped my hair and rinsed it, combed it as he had the first time we'd made love.<br />"Bill, I'm sorry about your friends," I said, so exhausted I could hardly get the words out. "And I am so<br />glad you are alive." I slid my arms around his neck and lay my head on his shoulder. It was hard as a<br />rock. I remember Bill drying me off with a big white towel, and I remember thinking how soft the pillow<br />was, and I remember him sliding into bed beside me and putting his arm around me. Then I fell into sleep.<br />In the small hours of the morning, I woke halfway to hear someone moving around the room. I must<br />have been dreaming,<br />and it must have been bad, because I woke with my heart racing. "Bill?" I asked,<br />and I could hear the fear in my voice.<br />"What's wrong?" he asked, and I felt the bed indent as he sat on the edge.<br />"Are you all right?"<br />"Yes, I was just out walking."<br />"No one's out there?"<br />"No, sweetheart." I could hear the sound of cloth moving over skin, and then he was under the sheets<br />with me.<br />"Oh, Bill, that could have been you in one of those coffins," I said, the agony still fresh in my mind.<br />"Sookie, did you ever think that could have been you in the body bag? What if they come here, to burn<br />this house, at dawn?"<br />"You have to come to my house! They won't burn my house. You can be safe with me," I said earnestly.<br />"Sookie, listen: because of me you could die."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"What would I lose?" I asked, hearing the passion in my voice. "I've had the best time since I met you,<br />the best time of my life!"<br />"If I die, go to Sam."<br />"Passing me along already?"<br />"Never," he said, and his smooth voice was cold. "Never." I felt his hands grip my shoulders; he was on<br />one elbow beside me. He scooted a little closer, and I could feel the cool length of his body.<br />"Listen, Bill," I said. "I'm not educated, but I'm not stupid. I'm not real experienced or worldly, either,<br />but I don't think I'm naive." I hoped he wasn't smiling in the dark. "I can make them accept you. I can."<br />"If anyone can, you will," he said. "I want to enter you again."<br />"You mean—? Oh, yeah. I see what you mean." He'd taken my hand and guided it down to him. "I'd<br />like that, too." And I sure would, if I could survive it after the pounding<br />I'd taken in the graveyard. Bill<br />had been so angry that now I felt battered. But I could also feel that liquidy warm feeling running through<br />me, that restless excitement to which Bill had addicted me. "Honey," I said, caressing him up and down<br />his length, "honey." I kissed him, felt his tongue in my mouth. I touched his fangs with my own tongue.<br />"Can you do it without biting?" I whispered.<br />"Yes. It's just like a grand finale when I taste your blood."<br />"Would it be almost as good without?"<br />"It can never be as good without, but I don't want to weaken you."<br />"If you wouldn't mind," I said tentatively. "It took me a few days to feel up to par." "I've been selfish ...<br />you're just so good." "If I'm strong, it'll be even better," I suggested.<br />"Show me how strong you are," he said teasingly.<br />"Lie on your back. I'm not real sure how this works, but I know other people do it." I straddled him,<br />heard his breathing quicken. I was glad the room was dark and outside the rain was still pouring. A flash<br />of lightening showed me his eyes, glowing. I carefully maneuvered into what I hoped was the correct<br />position, and guided him inside me. I had great faith in instinct, and sure enough it didn't play me false.<br />Chapter 8<br />TOGETHER AGAIN, MY doubts at least temporarily drenched by the fear I'd felt when I'd thought I<br />might have lost him, Bill and I settled into an uneasy routine.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />If I worked nights, I would go over to Bill's house when I finished, and usually I spent the rest of the<br />night there. If I worked days, Bill would come to my house after sunset, and we would watch TV, or go<br />to the movies, or play Scrabble.<br />I had to have every third night off, or Bill had to refrain from biting<br />those nights; otherwise I began to feel weak and draggy. And there was the danger, if Bill fed on me too<br />much ... I kept chugging vitamins and iron until Bill complained about the flavor. Then I cut back on the<br />iron.<br />When I slept at night, Bill would go do other stuff. Sometimes<br />he read, sometimes he wandered the<br />night; sometimes he'd go out and do my yard work under the illumination of the security lights.<br />If he ever took blood from anyone else, he kept it secret, and he did it far from Bon Temps, which was<br />what I had asked.<br />I say this routine was uneasy because it seemed to me that we were waiting. The burning of the Monroe<br />nest had enraged<br />Bill and (I think) frightened him. To be so powerful when awake and so helpless when<br />asleep had to be galling.<br />Both of us were wondering if public feeling against vampires<br />would abate now that the worst<br />troublemakers in the area were dead.<br />Though Bill didn't say anything directly, I knew from the course our conversation took from time to time<br />that he was worried about my safety with the murderer of Dawn, Maudette,<br />and my grandmother still at<br />large.<br />If the men of Bon Temps and the surrounding towns thought burning out the Monroe vampires would set<br />their minds at ease about the murders, they were wrong. Autopsy reports from the three victims finally<br />proved they had their full complement of blood when they were killed. Furthermore,<br />the bite marks on<br />Maudette and Dawn had not only looked old, they were proved to be old. The cause of their deaths was<br />strangulation. Maudette and Dawn had had sex before they'd died. And afterward.<br />Arlene and Charlsie and I were cautious about things like going out into the parking lot by ourselves,<br />making sure our homes were still locked tight before we entered them, trying to notice what cars were<br />around us as we drove. But it's hard to keep careful that way, a real strain on the nerves, and I am sure<br />we all lapsed back into our sloppy ways. Maybe it was more excusable for Arlene and Charlsie, since<br />they lived with other people, unlike the first two victims; Arlene with her kids (and Rene Lenier, off and<br />on), and Charlsie with her husband, Ralph.<br />I was the only one who lived alone.<br />Jason came into the bar almost every night, and he made a point of talking to me every time. I realized<br />he was trying to heal whatever breach lay between us, and I responded as much as I could. But Jason<br />was drinking more, too, and his bed had as many occupants as a public toilet, though he seemed to have<br />real feelings for Liz Barrett. We worked cautiously together on settling the business of Gran's estate and<br />Uncle Bartlett's, though he had more to do with that than I. Uncle Bartlett had left Jason everything but<br />my legacy.<br />Jason told me one night when he'd had an extra beer that he'd been back to the police station twice<br />more, and it was driving him crazy. He'd talked to Sid Matt Lancaster, finally,and Sid Matt had advised<br />Jason not to go to the police station any more unless Sid Matt went with him.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"How come they keep hauling you in?" I asked Jason. "There must be something you haven't told me.<br />Andy Bellefleur<br />hasn't kept after anybody else, and I know Dawn and Maudette both weren't too picky<br />about who came home with them."<br />Jason looked mortified. I'd never seen my beautiful older brother look as embarrassed.<br />"Movies," he mumbled.<br />I bent closer to be sure I'd heard him right. "Movies?" I said, incredulously.<br />"Shhh," he hissed, looking guilty as hell. "We made movies."<br />I guess I was just as embarrassed as Jason. Sisters and brothers don't need to know everything about<br />each other. "And you gave them a copy," I said tentatively, trying to figure out just how dumb Jason had<br />been.<br />He looked off in another direction, his hazy blue eyes romantically<br />shiny with tears.<br />"Moron," I said. "Even allowing for the fact that you couldn't know how this was gonna come to public<br />light, what's gonna happen when you decide to get married? What if one of your ex-flames mails a copy<br />of your little tango to your bride-to-be?"<br />"Thanks for kicking me when I'm down, Sis."<br />I took a deep breath. "Okay, okay. You've quit making these little videos, right?"<br />He nodded emphatically. I didn't believe him.<br />"And you told Sid Matt all about it, right?"<br />He nodded less firmly.<br />"And you think that's why Andy is on your case so much?"<br />"Yeah," Jason said morosely.<br />"So, if they test your semen and it isn't a match for what was inside Maudette and Dawn, you're clear."<br />By now, I was as shifty-faced as my brother. We had never talked about semen samples before.<br />"That's what Sid Matt says. I just don't trust that stuff."<br />My brother didn't trust the most reliable scientific evidence that could be presented in a court. "You think<br />Andy's going to fake the results?"<br />"No, Andy's okay. He's just doing his job. I just don't know about that DNA stuff."<br />"Moron," I said, and turned away to get another pitcher of beer for four guys from Ruston, college<br />students on a big night out in the boonies. I could only hope Sid Matt Lancaster<br />was good at<br />persuasion.<br />I spoke to Jason once more before he left Merlotte's. "Can you help me?" he asked, turning up to me a<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />face I hardly recognized. I was standing by his table, and his date for the night had gone to the ladies'<br />room.<br />My brother had never asked me for help before.<br />"How?"<br />"Can't you just read the minds of the men who come in here and find out if one of them did it?"<br />"That's not as easy as it sounds, Jason," I said slowly, thinking as I went along. "For one thing, the man<br />would have to be thinking of his crime while he sat here, at the exact moment I listened in. For another<br />thing, I can't always read clear thoughts. Some people, it's just like listening to a radio, I can hear every<br />little thing. Other people, I just get a mass of feelings, not spelled out; it's like hearing someone talk in<br />their sleep, see? You can hear they're talking, you can tell if they're upset or happy, but you can't hear the<br />exact words. And then other times, I can hear a thought, but I can't trace it to its source if the room is<br />crowded."<br />Jason was staring at me. It was the first time we had talked openly about my disability.<br />"How do you stop from going crazy?" he asked, shaking his head in amazement.<br />I was about to try to explain putting up my guard, but Liz Barrett returned to the table, newly lipsticked<br />and fluffed. I watched Jason resume his woman-hunting persona like shrugging on a heavy coat, and I<br />regretted not getting to talk to him more when he was by himself.<br />That night, as the staff got ready to leave, Arlene asked me if I could baby-sit for her the next evening. It<br />would be an off-day for both of us, and she wanted to go to Shreveport with Rene to see a movie and go<br />out to eat.<br />"Sure!" I said. "I haven't kept the kids in a while." Suddenly Arlene's face froze. She half-turned to me,<br />opened her mouth, thought the better of speaking, then thought again. "Will... ah ... will Bill be there?"<br />"Yes, we'd planned on watching a movie. I was going to stop by the video rental place, tomorrow<br />morning. But I'll get something for the kids to watch instead." Abruptly, I caught her meaning. "Whoa.<br />You mean you don't want to leave the kids with me if Bill's gonna be there?" I could feel my eyes narrow<br />to slits and my voice drop down to its angry register.<br />"Sookie," she began helplessly, "honey, I love you. But you can't understand, you're not a mother. I can't<br />leave my kids with a vampire. I just can't."<br />"No matter that I'm there, and I love your kids, too? No matter that Bill would never in a million years<br />harm a child." I slung my purse over my shoulder and stalked out the back door, leaving Arlene standing<br />there looking torn. By golly, she ought to be upset!<br />I was a little calmer by the time I turned onto the road to go home, but I was still riled up. I was worried<br />about Jason, miffed at Arlene, and almost permanently frosted at Sam, who was pretending these days<br />that I was a mere acquaintance.<br />I debated whether to just go home rather than going to Bill's; decided<br />that was a good idea.<br />It was a measure of how much he worried about me that Bill was at my house about fifteen minutes after<br />I should have been at his.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"You didn't come, you didn't call," he said quietly when I answered the door. "I'm in a temper," I said.<br />"A bad one." Wisely he kept his distance.<br />"I apologize for making you worry," I said after a moment. "I won't do that again." I strode away from<br />him, toward the . kitchen. He followed behind, or at least I presumed he did. Bill was so quiet you never<br />knew until you looked.<br />He leaned against the door frame as I stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, wondering why I'd come<br />in the room, feeling a rising tide of anger. I was getting pissed off all over again. I really wanted to throw<br />something, damage something. This was not the way I'd been brought up, to give way to destructive<br />impulses like that. I contained it, screwing my eyes shut, clenching my fists.<br />"I'm gonna dig a hole," I said, and I marched out the back door. I opened the door to the tool shed,<br />removed the shovel, and stomped to the back of the yard. There was a patch back there where nothing<br />ever grew, I don't know why. I sunk the shovel in, pushed it with my foot, came up with a hunk of soil. I<br />kept on going. The pile of dirt grew as the hole deepened.<br />"I have excellent arm and shoulder muscles," I said, resting<br />against the shovel and panting.<br />Bill was sitting in a lawn chair watching. He didn't say anything.<br />I resumed digging.<br />Finally, I had a really nice hole.<br />"Were you going to bury anything?" Bill asked, when he could tell I was done.<br />"No." I looked down at the cavity in the ground. "I'm going to plant a tree."<br />"What kind?"<br />"A live oak," I said off the top of my head.<br />"Where can you get one?"<br />"At the Garden Center. I'll go sometime this week."<br />"They take a long time to grow."<br />"What difference would that make to you?" I snapped. I put the shovel up in the shed, then leaned<br />against it, suddenly exhausted.<br />Bill made as if to pick me up.<br />"I am agrown woman," I snarled. "I can walk into the house on my own."<br />"Have I done something to you?" Bill asked. There was very little loving in his voice, and I was brought<br />up short. I had indulged myself enough.<br />"I apologize," I said. "Again."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"What has made you so angry?"<br />I just couldn't tell him about Arlene.<br />"What do you do when you get mad, Bill?"<br />"I tear up a tree," he said. "Sometimes I hurt someone."<br />Digging a hole didn't seem so bad. It had been sort of<br />constructive. But I was still wired—it was just more of a subdued buzz than a high-frequency whine. I<br />cast around restlessly for something to affect.<br />Bill seemed adept at reading the symptoms. "Make love," he suggested. "Make love with me."<br />"I'm not in the right mood for love."<br />"Let me try to persuade you."<br />It turned out he could.<br />At least it wore off the excess energy of anger, but I still had a residue of sadness that sex couldn't cure.<br />Arlene had hurt my feelings. I stared into space while Bill braided my hair, a pastime that he apparently<br />found soothing.<br />Every now and then I felt like I was Bill's doll.<br />"Jason was in the bar tonight," I said.<br />"What did he want?"<br />Bill was too clever by far, sometimes, at reading people.<br />"He appealed to my mind-reading powers. He wanted me to scan the minds of the men who came into<br />the bar until I found out who the murderer was."<br />"Except for a few dozen flaws, that's not a bad idea."<br />"You think?"<br />"Both your brother and I will be regarded with less suspicion<br />if the murderer is in jail. And you'll be<br />safe."<br />"That's true, but I don't know how to go about it. It would be hard, and painful, and boring, to wade<br />through all that stuff trying to find a little bit of information, a flash of thought."<br />"Not any more painful or hard than being suspected of murder. You're just accustomed to keeping your<br />gift locked up."<br />"Do you think so?" I began to turn to look at his face, but he held me still so he could finish braiding. I'd<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />never seen keeping out of people's minds as selfish, but in this case I supposed it was. I would have to<br />invade a lot of privacy. "A detective," I murmured, trying to see myself in a better light than just nosey.<br />"Sookie," Bill said, and something in his voice made me take notice. "Eric has told me to bring you to<br />Shreveport again."<br />It took me a second to remember who Eric was. "Oh, the big Viking vampire?"<br />"The very old vampire," Bill said precisely.<br />"You mean, he ordered you to bring me there?" I didn't like the sound of this at all. I'd been sitting on the<br />side of the bed, Bill behind me, and now I turned to look in his face. This time he didn't stop me. I stared<br />at Bill, seeing something in his face that I'd never seen before. "Youhave to do this," I said, appalled. I<br />could not imagine someone giving Bill an order. "But honey, I don't want to go see Eric."<br />I could see that made no difference.<br />"What is he, the Godfather of vampires?" I asked, angry and incredulous. "Did he give you an offer you<br />couldn't refuse?"<br />"He is older than me. More to the point, he is stronger."<br />"Nobody's stronger than you," I said stoutly.<br />"I wish you were right."<br />"So is he the head of Vampire Region Ten, or something?"<br />"Yes. Something like that."<br />Bill was always closemouthed about how vampires controlled<br />their own affairs. That had been fine with<br />me, until now.<br />"What does he want? What will happen if I don't go?"<br />Bill just sidestepped the first question. "He'll send someone—<br />several someones—to get you."<br />"Other vampires."<br />"Yes." Bill's eyes were opaque, shining with his difference,<br />brown and rich.<br />I tried to think this through. I wasn't used to being ordered around. I wasn't used to no choices at all. It<br />took my thick skull several minutes to evaluate the situation.<br />"So, you'd feel obliged to fight them?"<br />"Of course. You are mine."<br />There was that "mine" again. It seemed he really meant it. I sure felt like whining, but I knew it wouldn't<br />do any good.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"I guess I have to go," I said, trying not to sound bitter. "This is just plain old blackmail."<br />"Sookie, vampiresaren't like humans. Eric is using the best means to achieve his goal, which is getting<br />you to Shreveport. He didn't have to spell all this out; I understood it."<br />"Well, I understand it now, but I hate it. I'm between a rock and hard place! What does he want me for,<br />anyway?" An obvious answer popped right into my mind, and I looked at Bill, horrified. "Oh, no, I won't<br />do that!"<br />"He won't have sex with you or bite you, not without killing me." Bill's glowing face lost all vestiges of<br />familiarity and became utterly alien.<br />"And he knows that," I said tentatively, "so there must be another reason he wants me in Shreveport."<br />"Yes," Bill agreed, "but I don't know what it is." "Well, if it doesn't have to do with my physical charms,<br />or the unusual quality of my blood, it must have to do with my ... little quirk." "Your gift."<br />"Right," I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "My precious<br />gift." All the anger I thought I'd eased off<br />my shoulders came back to sit like a four-hundred-pound gorilla. And I was scared to death. I wondered<br />how Bill felt. I was even scared to ask that. "When?" I asked instead. "Tomorrow night."<br />"I guess this is the downside of nontraditional dating." I stared over Bill's shoulder at the pattern of the<br />wallpaper my grandmother had chosen ten years ago. I promised myself that if I got through this, I would<br />repaper. "I love you." His voice was just a whisper. This wasn't Bill's fault. "I love you, too," I said. I had<br />to stop myself from begging, Please don't let the bad vampire hurt me, please don't let the vampire rape<br />me. If I was between<br />a rock and a hard place, Bill was doubly so. I couldn't even begin to estimate the<br />self-control he was employing. Unless he really was calm? Could a vampire face pain and this form of<br />helplessness without some inner turmoil?<br />I searched his face, the familiar clear lines and white matte complexion, the dark arches of his brows and<br />proud line of his nose. I observed that Bill's fangs were only slightly extended,<br />and rage and lust ran<br />them full out.<br />"Tonight," he said. "Sookie..." His hands began urging me to lie beside him.<br />"What?"<br />"Tonight, I think, you should drink from me."<br />I made a face. "Ick! Don't you need all your strength for tomorrow night? I'm not hurt."<br />"How have you felt since you drank from me? Since I put my blood inside you?"<br />I mulled it over. "Good," I admitted.<br />"Have you been sick?"<br />"No, but then I almost never am."<br />"Have you had more energy?"<br />"When you weren't taking it back!" I said tartly, but I could feel my lips curve up in a little smile.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Have you been stronger?"<br />"I—yes, I guess I have." I realized for the first time how extraordinary it was that I'd carried in a new<br />chair, by myself,<br />the week before.<br />"Has it been easier to control your power?"<br />"Yes, I did notice that." I'd written it off to increased relaxation.<br />"If you drink from me tonight, tomorrow night you will have more resources."<br />"But you'll be weaker."<br />"If you don't take much, I'll recoup during the day when I sleep. And I may have to find someone else to<br />drink from tomorrow night before we go."<br />My face filled with hurt. Suspecting he was doing it and knowing were sure two different things.<br />"Sookie, this is for us. No sex with anyone else, I promise you."<br />"You really think all this is necessary."<br />"Maybe necessary. At least helpful. And we need all the help we can get."<br />"Oh, all right. How do we do this?" I had only the haziest recollection of the night of the beating, and I<br />was glad of it.<br />He looked at me quizzically. I had the impression he was amused, "Aren't you excited, Sookie?"<br />"At drinking blood from you? Excuse me, that's not my turn-on."<br />He shook his head, as if that was beyond his understanding.<br />"I forget," he said simply. "I forget how it is<br />to be otherwise. Would you prefer neck, wrist, groin?"<br />"Not groin," I said hastily. "I don't know, Bill. Yuck. Whichever."<br />"Neck," he said. "Lie on top of me, Sookie."<br />"That's like sex."<br />"It's the easiest way."<br />So I straddled him and gently let myself down. This felt very peculiar. This was a position we used for<br />lovemaking and nothing else.<br />"Bite, Sookie," he whispered.<br />"I can't do that!" I protested.<br />"Bite, or I'll have to use a knife."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"My teeth aren't sharp like yours."<br />"They're sharp enough."<br />"I'll hurt you."<br />He laughed silently. I could feel his chest moving beneath me.<br />"Damn." I breathed, and steeling myself, I bit his neck. I did a good job because there was no sense<br />prolonging this. I tasted the metallic blood in my mouth. Bill groaned softly, and his hands brushed my<br />back and continued down. His fingers found me.<br />I gave a gasp of shock.<br />"Drink," he said raggedly, and I sucked hard. He groaned, louder, deeper, and I felt him pressing against<br />me. A little ripple of madness went through me, and I attached myself to him like a barnacle, and he<br />entered me, began moving, his hands now gripping my hip bones. I drank and saw visions, visions all with<br />a background of darkness, of white things coming up from the ground and going hunting, the thrill of the<br />run through the woods, the prey panting ahead and the excitement of its fear; pursuit, legs pumping,<br />hearing the thrumming of blood through the veins of the pursued . ..<br />Bill made a noise deep in his chest and convulsed inside me. I raised my head from his neck, and a wave<br />of dark delight carried me out to sea.<br />This was pretty exotic stuff for a telepathic barmaid from northern Louisiana.<br />Chapter<br />I WAS GETTING ready by sunset the next day. Bill had said he was going to feed somewhere before<br />we went, and as upset as the idea made me, I had to agree it made sense. He was right about how I'd<br />feel after my little informal vitamin<br />supplement the night before, too. I felt super. I felt very strong, very<br />alert, very quick-witted, and oddly enough, I also felt very pretty.<br />What would I wear for my own little interview with a vampire? I didn't want to look like I was trying to<br />be sexy, but I didn't want to make a fool of myself by wearing a shapeless gunnysack, either. Blue jeans<br />seemed to be the answer,<br />as they so often are. I put on white sandals and a pale blue scoop-neck tee. I<br />hadn't worn it since I'd started seeing Bill because it exposed his fang marks. But Bill's "ownership"<br />of<br />me, I figured, could not be too strongly reinforced tonight. Remembering the cop last time checking my<br />neck, I tucked a scarf in my purse. I thought again and added a silver necklace. I brushed my hair, which<br />seemed at least three shades lighter, and let it ripple down my back.<br />Just when I was really having to struggle with picturing Bill with somebody else, he knocked. I opened<br />the door and we stood looking at each other for a minute. His lips had<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />more color than normal, so he'd done it. I bit my own lips to keep from saying anything.<br />"You did change," he said first.<br />"You think anyone else'll be able to tell?" I hoped not.<br />"I don't know." He held out his hand, and we walked to his car. He opened my door, and I brushed by<br />him to climb in. I stiffened.<br />"What's wrong?" he asked, after a moment.<br />"Nothing," I said, trying to keep my voice even, and I sat in the passenger's seat and stared straight<br />ahead of me.<br />I told myself I might as well be mad at the cow who had given him his hamburger. But somehow the<br />simile just didn't work.<br />"You smell different," I said after we'd been on the highway<br />for a few minutes. We drove for a few<br />minutes in silence.<br />"Now you know how I will feel if Eric touches you," he told me. "But I think I'll feel worse because Eric<br />will enjoy touching you, and I didn't much enjoy my feeding."<br />I figured that wasn't totally, strictly, true: I know I always enjoy eating even if I'm not served my favorite<br />food. But I appreciated the sentiment.<br />We didn't talk much. We were both worried about what was ahead of us. All too soon, we were<br />parking at Fangtasia again, but this time in the back. As Bill held open the car door, I had to fight an<br />impulse to cling to the seat and refuse to get out. Once I made myself emerge, I had another struggle<br />involving my intense desire to hide behind Bill. I gave a kind of gasp, took his arm, and we walked to the<br />door like we were going to a party we were anticipating with pleasure.<br />Bill looked down at me with approval.<br />I fought an urge to scowl at him.<br />He knocked on the metal door withfangtasia stencilled on it. We were in a service and delivery alley that<br />ran behind all the stores in the little strip mall. There were several other cars parked back there, Eric's<br />sporty red convertible among them. All the vehicles were high-priced.<br />You won't find a vampire in a Ford Fiesta.<br />Bill knocked, three quick, two spaced apart. The SecretVampire Knock, I guess. Maybe I'd get to<br />learn the Secret Handshake.<br />The beautiful blond vampire opened the door, the female who'd been at the table with Eric when I'd<br />been to the bar before. She stood back without speaking to let us enter.<br />If Bill had been human, he would have protested at how tightly I was holding his hand.<br />The female was in front of us more quickly than my eyes could follow, and I started. Bill wasn't surprised<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />at all, naturally.<br />She led us through a storeroom disconcertingly similar to Merlotte's and into a little<br />corridor. We went through the door on our right.<br />Eric was in the small room, his presence dominating it. Bill didn't exactly kneel to kiss his ring, but he did<br />nod kind of deep. There was another vampire in the room, the bartender,<br />Long Shadow; he was in fine<br />form tonight, in a skinny-strap tee and weight-lifting pants, all in deep green.<br />"Bill, Sookie," Eric greeted us. "Bill, you and Sookie know Long Shadow. Sookie, you remember Pam."<br />Pam was the blond female. "And this is Bruce."<br />Bruce was a human, the most frightened human I'd ever seen. I had considerable sympathy with that.<br />Middle-aged and paunchy, Bruce had thinning dark hair that curved in stiff waves across his scalp. He<br />was jowly and small-mouthed. He was wearing a nice suit, beige, with a white shirt and a<br />brown-and-navy patterned tie. He was sweating heavily. He was in a straight chair across the desk from<br />Eric. Naturally, Eric was in the power chair. Pam and Long Shadow were standing against the wall<br />across from Eric, by the door. Bill took his place beside them, but as I moved to join him, Eric spoke<br />again.<br />"Sookie, listen to Bruce."<br />I stood staring at Bruce for a second, waiting for him to speak, until I understood what Eric meant.<br />"What exactly am I listening for?" I asked, knowing my voice was sharp.<br />"Someone has embezzled about sixty thousand dollars from us," Eric explained.<br />Boy, somebody had a death wish.<br />"And rather than put all our human employees to death ortorture, we thought perhaps you would look<br />into their minds and tell us who it was."<br />He said "death or torture" as calmly as I said, "Bud or Old Milwaukee."<br />"And then what will you do?" I asked. Eric seemed surprised.<br />"Whoever it is will give our money back," he said simply. "And then?"<br />His big blue eyes narrowed as he stared at me. "Why, if we can produce proof of the crime, we'll turn<br />the culprit over to the police," he said smoothly.<br />Liar, liar, pants on fire. "I'll make a deal, Eric," I said, not bothering to smile. Winsome did not count<br />with Eric, and he was far from any desire to jump my bones. At the moment. He smiled, indulgently.<br />"What would that be, Sookie?" "If you really do turn the guilty person over to the police, I'll do this for<br />you again, whenever you want." Eric cocked an eyebrow.<br />"Yeah, I know I'd probably have to anyway. But isn't it better if I come willing, if we have good faith<br />with each other?" I broke into a sweat. I could not believe I was bargaining<br />with a vampire.<br />Eric actually seemed to be thinking that over. And suddenly,<br />I was in his thoughts. He was thinking he<br />could make me do what he wanted, anywhere, anytime, just by threatening<br />Bill or some human I loved.<br />But he wanted to mainstream,<br />to keep as legal as he could, to keep his relations with humans<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />aboveboard, or at least as aboveboard as vampire-human dealings could be. He didn't want to kill<br />anyone if he didn't have to.<br />It was like suddenly being plunged into a pit of snakes, cold snakes, lethal snakes. It was only a flash, a<br />slice of his mind, sort of, but it left me facing a whole new reality.<br />"Besides," I said quickly, before he could see I'd beeninside his head, "how sure are you that the thief is<br />a human?"<br />Pam and Long Shadow both moved suddenly, but Ericflooded the room with his presence, commanding<br />them to bestill.<br />"That's an interesting idea," he said. "Pam and Long Shadow are my partners in this bar, and if none of<br />the humans<br />is guilty, I guess we'll have to look at them."<br />"Just a thought," I said meekly, and Eric looked at me with the glacial blue eyes of a being who hardly<br />remembers what humanity was like.<br />"Start now, with this man," he commanded.<br />I knelt by Bruce's chair, trying to decide how to proceed. I'd never tried to formalize something that was<br />pretty chancy. Touching would help; direct contact clarified the transmission,<br />so to speak. I took<br />Bruce's hand, found that too personal<br />(and too sweaty) and pushed back his coat cuff. I took hold of his<br />wrist. I looked into his small eyes.<br />Ididn't take the money, who took it, what crazy fool would put us in danger like this, what will<br />Lillian do if they kill me, and Bobby and Heather, why did I work for vampires anyway,<br />it's sheer<br />greed, and I'm paying for it, God I'll never work for these things again how can this crazy woman<br />find out who took the fucking money why doesn't she let go of me what is she is she a vampire,<br />too, or some kind of demon her eyes are so strange I should have found out earlier that the money<br />was missing and found out who took it before I even said anything to Eric . . .<br />"Did you take the money?" I breathed, though I was sure I already knew the answer.<br />"No," Bruce groaned, sweat running down his face, and his thoughts, his reaction to the question,<br />confirmed what I'd heard already.<br />"Do you know who did?"<br />"I wish."<br />I stood, turned to Eric, shook my head. "Not this guy," I said.<br />Pam escorted poor Bruce out, brought the next interrogee.<br />My subject was a barmaid, dressed in trailing black with lots of cleavage on display, her ragged<br />strawberry blond hair straggling down her back. Of course, working at Fangtasia would be a dream job<br />for a fang-banger, and this gal had the scars to prove she enjoyed her perks. She was confident enough<br />to grin at Eric, foolish enough to take the wooden chair with some confidence, even crossing her legs like<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Sharon Stone—she hoped. She was surprised to see a strange vampire and a new woman in the room,<br />and not pleased by<br />my presence, though Bill made her lick her lips.<br />"Hey, sweetie," she said to Eric, and I decided she must have no imagination at all.<br />"Ginger, answer this woman's questions," Eric said. His voice was like a stone wall, flat and implacable.<br />Ginger seemed to understand for the first time that this was a time to be serious. She crossed her ankles<br />this time, sat with her hands on the tops of her thighs, and assumed a stern face. "Yes, master," she said,<br />and I thought I was going to barf.<br />She waved an imperious hand at me, as if to say, "Begin, fellow vampire server." I reached down for her<br />wrist, and she flung my hand away. "Don't touch me," she said, almost hissing.<br />It was such an extreme reaction that the vampires tensed up, and I could feel that crackling the air in the<br />room.<br />"Pam, hold Ginger still," Eric commanded, and Pam appeared<br />silently behind Ginger's chair, leaning<br />over and putting<br />her hands on Ginger's upper arms. You could tell Ginger struggled some because her<br />head moved around, but Pam held her upper body in a grip that kept the girl's body absolutely<br />immobile.<br />My fingers circled her wrist. "Did you take the money?" I asked, staring into Ginger's flat brown eyes.<br />She screamed, then, long and loud. She began to curse me. I listened to the chaos in the girl's tiny brain.<br />It was like trying to walk over a bombed site.<br />"She knows who did," I said to Eric. Ginger fell silent then, though she was sobbing. "She can't say the<br />name," I told the blond vampire. "He has bitten her." I touched the scars on Ginger's neck as if that<br />needed more illustration. "It's some kind of compulsion," I reported, after I'd tried again. "She can't even<br />picture him."<br />"Hypnosis," Pam commented. Her proximity to the frightened<br />girl had made Pam's fangs run out. "A<br />strong vampire." "Bring in her closest friend," I suggested. Ginger was shaking like a leaf by then with<br />thoughts she was compelled not to think pressing her from their locked closet. "Should she stay, or go?"<br />Pam asked me directly.<br />"She should go. It'll only scare someone else."<br />I was so into this, so into openly using my strange ability, that I didn't look at Bill. I felt that somehow if I<br />looked at him, it would weaken me. I knew where he was, that he and Long Shadow had not moved<br />since the questioning had begun.<br />Pam hauled the trembling Ginger away. I don't know what she did with the barmaid, but she came<br />returned with another waitress in the same kind of clothes. This woman's name was Belinda, and she was<br />older and wiser. Belinda had brown hair, glasses, and the sexiest pouting mouth I'd ever seen.<br />"Belinda, what vampire has Ginger been seeing?" Eric asked smoothly once Belinda was seated, and I<br />was touching her. The waitress had enough sense to accept the process quietly, enough intelligence to<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />realize she had to be honest.<br />"Anyone that would have her," Belinda said bluntly.<br />I saw an image in Belinda's mind, but she had to think the name.<br />"Which one from here?" I asked suddenly, and then I had the name. My eyes sought his corner before I<br />could open my mouth, and then he was on me, Long Shadow, vaulting over the chair holding Belinda to<br />land on top of me as I crouched in front of her. I was bowled over backward into Eric's desk, and only<br />my upflung arms saved me from his teeth sinking into my throat and ripping it out. He bit my forearm<br />savagely, and I screamed; at least I tried to, but with so little air left from the impact it was more like an<br />alarmed choking noise.<br />I was only conscious of the heavy figure on top of me and the pain of my arm, my own fear. I hadn't<br />been frightened that the Rats were going to kill me until almost too late, but I understood that to keep his<br />name from leaving my lips, Long Shadow was ready to kill me instantly, and when I heard the awful noise<br />and felt his body press even harder on me I didn't have any idea what it meant. I'd been able to see his<br />eyes over the top of my arm. They were wide, brown, crazed, icy. Suddenly they dulled and seemed to<br />almost flatten.<br />Blood gushed out of Long Shadow's mouth, bathing my arm. It flowed into my open<br />mouth, and I gagged. His teeth relaxed, and his face fell in on itself. It began to wrinkle. Hiseyes turned<br />into gelatinous pools. Handfuls of his thick black hair fell on my face.<br />I was shocked beyond moving. Hands gripped my shoulders<br />and began pulling me out from under the<br />decaying corpse. I pushed with my feet to scrabble back faster.<br />There wasn't an odor,bat there was gunk, black and streaky, and the absolute horror and disgust of<br />watching Long Shadow deconstruct with incredible speed. There was a stake sticking out of his back.<br />Eric stood watching, as we all were, but he had a mallet in his hand. Bill was behind me, having pulled me<br />out from under Long Shadow. Pam was standing by the door, her hand gripping Belinda's arm. The<br />waitress looked as rocky as I must have.<br />Even the gunk began to vanish in smoke. We all stood frozen until the last wisp was gone. The carpet<br />had a kind of scorched mark on it.<br />"You'll have to get you an area rug," I said, completely out of the blue. Honest to God, I couldn't stand<br />the silence any more.<br />"Your mouth is bloody," Eric said. All the vampires had fully extended fangs. They'd gotten pretty<br />excited. "He bled onto me." "Did any go down your throat?" "Probably. What does that mean?" 'That<br />remains to be seen," Pam said. Her voice was dark and husky. She was eyeing Belinda in a way that<br />would have made me distinctly nervous, but Belinda seemed to be preening,<br />incredibly. "Usually," Pam<br />went on, her eyes on Belinda's<br />pouty lips, "we drink from humans, not the other way around."<br />Eric was looking at me with interest, the same kind of interest that Pam had in Belinda. "How do things<br />look to you now, Sookie?" he asked in such a smooth voice you'd never think he'd just executed an old<br />friend.<br />Howdid things look to me now? Brighter. Sounds were clearer, and I could hear better. I wanted to turn<br />and look at Bill, but I was scared to take my eyes off Eric.<br />"Well, I guess Bill and me'll go now," I said, as if no other process was possible. "I did that for you, Eric,<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />and now we get to go. No retaliation for Ginger and Belinda andBruce, okay? We agreed." I started<br />toward the door with an assurance I was far from feeling. "I'll just bet you need to go see how the bar is<br />doing, huh? Who's mixing the drinks, tonight?"<br />"We got a substitute," Eric said absently, his eyes never leaving my neck. "You smell different, Sookie,"<br />he murmured,<br />taking a step closer.<br />"Well, remember now, Eric, we had a deal," I reminded him, my smile broad and tense, my voice<br />snapping with good cheer. "Bill and I are going home now, aren't we?" I risked a glance behind me at<br />Bill. My heart sank. His eyes were open wide, unblinking, his lips drawn back in a silent snarl to expose<br />his extended fangs. His pupils were dilated enormously.<br />He was staring at Eric.<br />"Pam, get out of the way," I said, quietly but sharply. Once Pam was distracted from her own blood lust,<br />she evaluated the situation in one glance. She swung open the office door and propelled Belinda through<br />it, stood beside it to usher us out. "Call Ginger," I suggested, and the sense of what I was saying<br />penetrated Pam's fog of desire. "Ginger," she called hoarsely, and the blond girl stumbled from a door<br />down the hall. "Eric wants you," Pam told her. Ginger's face lit up like she had a date with David<br />Duchovny, and she was in the room and rubbing against Eric almost as fast as a vampire could have. As<br />if he'd woken from a spell, Eric looked down at Ginger when she ran her hands up his chest. As he bent<br />to kiss her, Eric looked at me over her head. "I'll see you again," he said, and I pulled Bill out the door as<br />quick as a wink. Bill didn't want to go. It was like trying to tow a log. But once we were out in the hall he<br />seemed to be a little more aware of the need to get out of there, and we hurried from Fangtasia and got<br />into Bill's car.<br />I looked down at myself. I was bloodstained and wrinkled, and I smelled funny. Yuck. I looked over at<br />Bill to share my disgust with him, but he was looking at me in an unmistakable<br />way.<br />"No," I said forcefully. "You start this car and get out of here before anything else happens, Bill<br />Compton. I tell you flat, I'm not in the mood."<br />He scooted across the seat toward me, his arms scoopingme up before I could say anything else. Then<br />his mouth was on mine, and after a second his tongue began licking the blood from my face.<br />I was really scared. I was also really angry. I grabbed his ears and pulled his head away from mine using<br />every ounce of strength I possessed, which happened to be more than I thought I had.<br />His eyes were still like caves with ghosts dwelling in their depths.<br />"Bill!" I shrieked. I shook him. "Snap out of it!"<br />Slowly, his personality seeped back into his eyes. He drew a shuddering sigh. He kissed me lightly on<br />the lips.<br />"Okay, can we go home now?" I asked, ashamed that my voice was so quavery.<br />"Sure," he said, sounding none too steady himself.<br />"Was that like sharks scenting blood?" I asked, after a fifteen-minute silent drive that almost had us out<br />of Shreveport.<br />"Good analogy."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />He didn't need to apologize. He'd been doing what nature dictated, as least as natural as vampires got.<br />He didn't bother to. I would kind of liked to have heard an apology.<br />"So, am I in trouble?" I asked finally. It was two in the morning, and I found the question didn't bother<br />me as much as it should have.<br />"Eric will hold you to your word," Bill said. "As to whether he will leave you alone personally, 1 don't<br />know. I wish..." but his voice trailed off. It was the first time I'd heard Bill wish for anything.<br />"Sixty thousand dollars isn't a lot of money to a vampire, surely," I observed. "You all seem to have<br />plenty of money." "Vampires rob their victims, of course," Bill said matter-of-factly. "Early on, we take<br />the money from the corpse. Later, when we're more experienced, we can exert enough control to<br />persuade a human to give us money willingly, then forget it's been done. Some of us hire money<br />managers, some of us go into real estate, some of us live on the interest from our investments. Eric and<br />Pam went in together on the bar. Eric put up most of the money, Pam the rest. They hadknown Long<br />Shadow for a hundred years, and they hired him to be bartender. He betrayed them."<br />"Why would he steal from them?"<br />"He must have had some venture he needed the capital for," Bill said absently. "And he was in a<br />mainstreaming position. He couldn't just go out and kill a bank manager after hypnotizing him and<br />persuading the man to give him the money. So he took it from Eric."<br />"Wouldn't Eric have loaned it to him?"<br />"If Long Shadow hadn't been too proud to ask, yes," Bill said.<br />We had another long silence. Finally I said, "I always think of vampires as smarter than humans, but<br />they're not, huh?"<br />"Not always," he agreed.<br />When we reached the outskirts of Bon Temps, I asked Bill to drop me off at home. He looked sideways<br />at me, but didn't say anything. Maybe vampires were smarter than humans, after all.<br />Chapter 10<br />THE NEXT DAY, when I was getting ready for work, I realized I was definitely off vampires for a<br />while. Even Bill.<br />I was ready to remind myself I was a human.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />The trouble was, I had to notice that I was a changed human.<br />It wasn't anything major. After the first infusion of Bill's blood on the night the Rats had beaten me, I'd<br />felt healed, healthy, stronger. But not markedly different. Maybe more— well, sexier.<br />After my second draft of Bill's blood, I'd felt really strong, and I'd been braver because I'd had more<br />confidence. I felt more secure in my sexuality and its power. It seemed apparent<br />I was handling my<br />disability with more aplomb and capability.<br />I'd had Long Shadow's blood by accident. The next morning,<br />looking in the mirror, my teeth were<br />whiter and sharper. My hair looked lighter and livelier, and my eyes were brighter. I looked like a poster<br />girl for good hygiene, or some healthy cause like taking vitamins or drinking milk. The savage<br />bite on my<br />arm (Long Shadow's last bite on this earth, I realized) was not completely healed, but it was well on its<br />way.<br />Then my purse spilled as I picked it up, and my changerolled under the couch. I held up the end of the<br />couch with one hand while with the other I retrieved the coins.<br />Whoa.<br />I straightened and took a deep breath. At least the sunlight didn't hurt my eyes, and I didn't want to bite<br />everyone I saw. I'd enjoyed my breakfast toast, rather than longing for tomato juice. I wasn't turning into<br />a vampire. Maybe I was sort of an enhanced human?<br />Life had sure been simpler when I hadn't dated.<br />When I got to Merlotte's, everything was ready except for slicing the lemons and limes. We served the<br />fruit both with mixed drinks and with tea, and I got out the cutting board and a sharp knife. Lafayette was<br />tying on his apron as I got the lemons from the big refrigerator.<br />"You highlighted your hair, Sookie?"<br />I shook my head. Under the enveloping white apron, Lafayette<br />was a symphony of color; he was<br />wearing a fuschia thin-strap tee, dark purple jeans, red thong sandals, and he had sort of raspberry eye<br />shadow on.<br />"It sure looks lighter," he said skeptically, raising his own plucked brows.<br />"I've been out in the sun a lot," I assured him. Dawn had never gotten along with Lafayette, whether<br />because he was black or because he was gay, I didn't know ... maybe both. Arlene and Charlsie just<br />accepted the cook, but didn't go out of their ways to be friendly. But I'd always kind of liked Lafayette<br />because he conducted what had to be a tough life with verve and grace.<br />I looked down at the cutting board. All the lemons had been quartered. All the limes had been sliced.<br />My hand was holding the knife, and it was wet with juices. I had done it without knowing it. In about<br />thirty seconds. I closed my eyes. My God.<br />When I opened them, Lafayette was staring from my face to my hands.<br />"Tell me I didn't just see that, girlfriend," he suggested.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"You didn't," I said. My voice was cool and level, I was surprised to note. "Excuse me, I got to put<br />these away." I put the fruit in separate containers in the big cooler behind the bar where Sam kept the<br />beer. When I shut the door, Samwas standing there, his arms crossed across his chest. He didn't look<br />happy.<br />"Are you all right?" he asked. His bright blue eyes scanned me up and down. "You do something to your<br />hair?" he said uncertainly.<br />I laughed. I realized that my guard had slid into place easily, that it didn't have to be a painful process.<br />"Been out in the sun," I said. "What happened to your arm?"<br />I looked down at my right forearm. I'd covered the bite with a bandage. "Dog bit me." "Had it had its<br />shots?" "Sure."<br />I looked up at Sam, not too far, and it seemed to me his wiry, curly, red-blond hair snapped with<br />energy. It seemed to me I could hear his heart beating. I could feel his uncertainly,<br />his desire. My body<br />responded instantly. I focussed on his thin lips, and the rich smell of his aftershave filled my lungs. He<br />moved two inches closer. I could feel the breath going in and out of his lungs. I knew his penis was<br />stiffening. Then Charlsie Tooten came in the front door and slammed it behind her. We both took a step<br />away from each other. Thank God for Charlsie, I thought. Plump, dumb, good-natured, and<br />hardworking, Charlsie was a dream employee. Married to Ralph, her high school sweetheart, who<br />worked at one of the chicken processing plants, Charlsie had a girl in the eleventh grade and a married<br />daughter. Charlsie loved to work at the bar so she could get out and see people, and she had a knack for<br />dealing with drunks that got them out the door without a fight.<br />"Hi, you two!" she called cheerfully. Her dark brown hair (L'Oreal, Lafayette said) was pulled back<br />dramatically to hang from the crown of her head in a cascade of ringlets. Her blouse was spotless and the<br />pockets of her shorts gaped since the contents were too packed. Charlsie was wearing sheer black<br />support hose and Keds, and her artificial nails were a sort of burgundy red.<br />"That girl of mine is expecting. Just call me Grandma!" she said, and I could tell Charlsie was happy as a<br />clam. I<br />gave her the expected hug, and Sam patted her on the shoulder.<br />We were both glad to see her.<br />"When is the baby due?" I asked, and Charlsie was off and running. I didn't have to say anything for the<br />next five minutes. Then Arlene trailed in, makeup inexpertly covering the hickeys on her neck, and she<br />listened to everything all over again. Once my eyes met Sam's, and after a little moment,<br />we looked<br />away simultaneously.<br />Then we began serving the lunchtime crowd, and the incident<br />was over.<br />Most people didn't drink much at lunchtime, maybe a beer or a glass of wine. A hefty proportion just<br />had iced tea or water. The lunch crowd consisted of people who happened to be close to Merlotte's<br />when the lunch hour came, people who were regulars and thought of it naturally, and the local alcoholics<br />for whom their lunchtime drink was maybe the third or fourth. As I began to take orders, I remembered<br />my brother's plea.<br />I listened in all day, and it was gruelling. I'd never spent the day listening; I'd never let my guard down for<br />so long. Maybe it wasn't as painful as it had been; maybe I felt cooler about what I was hearing. Sheriff<br />Bud Dearborn was sitting at a table with the mayor, my grandmother's friend Sterling Norris. Mr. Norris<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />patted me on the shoulder, standing up to do so, and I realized it was the first time I'd seen him since<br />Gran's funeral.<br />"How are you doing, Sookie?" he asked in a sympathetic voice. He was looking poorly, himself.<br />"Just great, Mr. Norris. Yourself?"<br />"I'm an old man, Sookie," he said with an uncertain smile. He didn't even wait for me to protest. "These<br />murders are wearing me down. We haven't had a murder in Bon Temps since Darryl Mayhew shot Sue<br />Mayhew. And there wasn't no mystery about that."<br />'That was ... what? Six years ago?" I asked the sheriff, just to keep standing there. Mr. Norris was<br />feeling so sad at seeing me because he was thinking my brother was going to be arrested for murder, for<br />killing Maudette Pickens, and the mayor reckoned that meant Jason had most likely also killed Gran. I<br />ducked my head to hide my eyes.<br />"I guess so. Let's see, I remember we were dressed up for Jean-Anne's dance recital... so that was ...<br />yes, you're right, Sookie, six years ago." The sheriff nodded at me with approval. "Jason been in today?"<br />he asked casually, as if it were a mere afterthought.<br />"No, haven't seen him," I said. The sheriff told me he wanted iced tea and a hamburger; and he was<br />thinking of the time he'd caught Jason with his Jean-Anne, making out like crazy in the bed of Jason's<br />pickup truck.<br />Oh, Lord. He was thinking Jean-Anne was lucky she hadn't been strangled. And then he had a clear<br />thought that cut me to the quick: Sheriff Dearborn thought, These girls are all bottom-feeders, anyway.<br />I could read his thought in its context because the sheriff happened to be an easy scan. I could feel the<br />nuances of the idea. He was thinking, "Low-skill jobs, no college, screwing vampires ... bottom of the<br />barrel."<br />Hurt and angry didn't begin to describe how I felt at this assessment.<br />I went from table to table automatically, fetching drinks and sandwiches and clearing up the remainders,<br />working as hard as I usually did, with that awful smile stretching my face. I talked to twenty people I<br />knew, most of whom had thoughts as innocent as the day is long. Most customers were thinking of work,<br />or tasks they had to get done at home, or some little problem they needed to solve, like getting the Sears<br />repairman to come work on the dishwasher or getting the house clean for weekend company.<br />Arlene was relieved her period had started.<br />Charlsie was immersed in pink glowing reflections on her shot at immortality, her grandchild. She was<br />praying earnestly<br />for an easy pregnancy and safe delivery for her daughter.<br />Lafayette was thinking that working with me was getting spooky.<br />Policeman Kevin Pryor was wondering what his partner Kenya was doing on her day off. He himself<br />was helping his mother clean out the tool shed and hating every minute of it.<br />I heard many comments, both aloud and unspoken, aboutmy hair and complexion and the bandage on<br />my arm. I seemed more desirable to more men, and one woman: Some of the guys who'd gone on the<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />vampire burning expedition were thinking they didn't have a chance with me because of my vampire<br />sympathies, and they were regretting their impulsive<br />act. I marked their identities in my mind. I wasn't<br />going to forget they could have killed my Bill, even though at the moment the rest of the vampire<br />community was low on my list of favorite things.<br />Andy Bellefleur and his sister, Portia, were having lunch together, something they did at least once every<br />week. Portia was a female version of Andy: medium height, blocky build, determined mouth and jaw.<br />The resemblance between brother and sister favored Andy, not Portia. She was a very competent<br />lawyer, I'd heard. I might have suggested her to Jason when he was thinking he'd need an attorney, if<br />she'd not been female ... and I'd been thinking about Portia's welfare more than Jason's.<br />Today the lawyer was feeling inwardly depressed because she was educated and made good money,<br />but never had a date. That was her inner preoccupation.<br />Andy was disgusted with my continued association with Bill Compton, interested in my improved<br />appearance, and curious about how vampires had sex. He also was feeling sorry he was probably going<br />to arrest Jason. He was thinking that the case against Jason was not much stronger than that against<br />several other men, but Jason was the one who looked the most scared, which meant he had something to<br />hide. And there were the videos, which showed Jason having sex— not exactly regular, garden-variety<br />sex—with Maudette and Dawn.<br />I stared at Andy while I processed his thoughts, which made him uneasy. Andy really did know what I<br />was capable of. "Sookie, you going to get that beer?" he asked finally, waving a broad hand in the air to<br />make sure he had my attention.<br />"Sure, Andy," I said absently, and got one out of the cooler. "You need any more tea, Portia?"<br />"No, thanks, Sookie," Portia said politely, patting her mouth with her paper napkin. Portia was<br />remembering highschool, when she would have sold her soul for a date with the gorgeous Jason<br />Stackhouse. She was wondering what Jason<br />was doing now, if he had a thought in his head that would<br />interest her—maybe his body would be worth the sacrifice<br />of intellectual companionship? So Portia<br />hadn't seen the tapes, didn't know of their existence; Andy was being a good cop.<br />I tried to picture Portia with Jason, and I couldn't help smiling. That would be an experience for both of<br />them. I wished, not for the first time, that I could plant ideas as well as reap them.<br />By the end of my shift, I'd learned—nothing. Except that the videos my brother had so unwisely made<br />featured mild bondage, which caused Andy to think of the ligature marks around the victims' necks.<br />So, taken as a whole, letting my head open for my brother had been a futile exercise. All I'd heard<br />tended to make me worry more and didn't supply any additional information that might help his cause.<br />A different crowd would come in tonight. I had never come to Merlotte's just for fun. Should I come in<br />tonight? What would Bill do? Did I want to see him?<br />I felt friendless. There was no one I could talk to about Bill, no one who wouldn't be halfway shocked I<br />was seeing him in the first place. How could I tell Arlene I was blue because Bill's vampire buddies were<br />terrifying and ruthless, that one of them had bitten me the night before, bled into my mouth, been staked<br />on top of me? This was not the kind of problem Arlene was equipped to handle. I couldn't think of<br />anyone who was. I couldn't recall anyone dating a vampire who wasn't an indiscriminate vampire groupie,<br />a fang-banger who would go with just any bloodsucker.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />By the time I left work, my enhanced physical appearance no longer had the power to make me<br />confident. I felt like a freak.<br />I puttered around the house, took a short nap, watered Gran's flowers. Toward dusk, I ate something<br />I'd nuked in the microwave. Wavering up until the last moment aboutgoing out, I finally put on a red shirt<br />and white slacks and some jewelry and drove back to Merlotte's.<br />It felt very strange entering as a customer. Sam was back behind the bar, and his eyebrows went up as<br />he marked my entrance. Three waitresses I knew by sight were working tonight, and a different cook<br />was grilling hamburgers, I saw through the serving hatch.<br />Jason was at the bar. For a wonder, the stool next to him was empty, and I eased onto it.<br />He turned to me with his face set for a new woman: mouth loose and smiling, eyes bright and wide.<br />When he saw it was me, his expression underwent a comical change. "What the hell are you doing here,<br />Sookie?" he asked, his voice indignant.<br />"You'd think you weren't glad to see me," I remarked. When Sam paused in front of me, I asked him for<br />a bourbon and coke, without meeting his eyes. "I did what you told me to do, and so far nothing," I<br />whispered to my brother. "I came in here tonight to try some more people."<br />"Thanks, Sookie," he said, after a long pause. "I guess I didn't realize what I was asking. Hey, is<br />something different about your hair?"<br />He even paid for my drink when Sam slid it in front of me.<br />We didn't seem to have much to talk about, which was actually okay, since I was trying to listen to the<br />other customers.<br />There were a few strangers, and I scanned them first, to see if they were possible<br />suspects. It didn't seem they were, I decided reluctantly. One was thinking hard about how much he<br />missed his wife, and the subtext was that he was faithful to her. One was thinking about it being his first<br />time here, and the drinks were good. Another was just concentrating<br />on sitting up straight and hoping he<br />could drive back to the motel.<br />I'd had another drink.<br />Jason and I had been swapping conjectures about how much the lawyer's fees would be when Gran's<br />estate was settled. He glanced at the doorway and said, "Uh-oh."<br />"What?" I asked, not turning to see what he was looking at.<br />"Sis, the boyfriend's here. And he's not alone." My first idea was that Bill had brought one of his fellow<br />vampires with him, which would have been upsetting and unwise. But when I turned, I realized why Jason<br />had sounded so angry. Bill was with a human girl. He had a grip on her arm, she was coming on to him<br />like a whore, and his eyes were scanning the crowd. I decided he was looking for my reaction.<br />I got off the barstool and decided another thing. I was drunk. I seldom drank at all, and two bourbon<br />and cokes consumed within minutes had made me, if not knee-walking drunk, at least tipsy.<br />Bill's eyes met mine. He hadn't really expected to find me here. I couldn't read his mind as I had Eric' for<br />an awful' moment, but I could read his body language.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Hey, Vampire Bill!" Jason's friend Hoyt called. Bill nodded<br />politely in Hoyt's direction, but began to<br />steer the girl— tiny, dark—in my direction. I had no idea what to do.<br />"Sis, what's his game?" Jason said. He was working up a head of steam. "That gal's a fang-banger from<br />Monroe. I knew her when she liked humans."<br />I still had no idea what to do. My hurt was overwhelming, but my pride kept trying to contain it. I had to<br />add a dash of guilt to that emotional stew. I hadn't been where Bill had expected me to be, and I hadn't<br />left him a note. Then again— on the other hand (my fifth or sixth)—I'd had a lot of shocks the night<br />before at the command performance in Shreveport; and only my association with him had obliged me to<br />go tothat shindig.<br />My warring impulses held me still. I wanted to pitch myself<br />on her and beat the shit out of her, but I<br />hadn't been brought up to brawl in barrooms. (I also wanted to beat the shit out of Bill, but I might as<br />well go bang my head on the wall for the all the damage it would do him.) Then, too, I wanted to burst<br />into tears because my feelings were hurt— but that would be weak. The best option was not to show<br />anything because Jason was ready to launch into Bill, and all it needed was some action from me to<br />squeeze his trigger.<br />Too much conflict on top of too much alcohol.<br />While I was enumerating all these options, Bill had approached,<br />wending his way through the tables,<br />with the woman in tow. I noticed the room was quieter. Instead of watching, I was being watched.<br />I could feel my eyes well with tears while my hands fisted. Great. The worst of both responses.<br />"Sookie," Bill said, "this is what Eric dropped off at my doorstep."<br />I could hardly understand what he was saying.<br />"So?" I said furiously. I looked right into the girl's eyes. They were big and dark and excited. I kept my<br />own lids wide apart, knowing if I blinked the tears would flow.<br />"As a reward," Bill said. I couldn't understand how he felt about this.<br />"Freebeverage?" I said, and couldn't believe how venomous<br />my voice sounded.<br />Jason put his hand on my shoulder. "Steady, girl," he said, his voice as low and mean as mine. "He ain't<br />worth it."<br />I didn't know what Bill wasn't worth, but I was about to find out. It was almost exhilarating to have no<br />idea what I was about to do, after a lifetime of control.<br />Bill was regarding me with sharp attention. Under the flou-rescents over the bar, he looked remarkably<br />white. He hadn't fed from her. And his fangs were retracted.<br />"Come outside and talk," he said.<br />"With her?" I was almost growling.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"No," he said. "With me. I have to send her back."<br />The distaste in his voice influenced me, and I followed Bill outside, keeping my head up and not meeting<br />any eyes. He kept ahold of the girl's arm, and she was practically walking<br />on her toes to keep up. I<br />didn't know Jason was coming with us until I turned to see him behind me as we passed into the parking<br />lot. Outside, people were coming and going, but it was marginally better than the crowded bar.<br />"Hi," the girl said chattily. "My name's Desiree. I think I've met you before, Jason."<br />"What are you doing here, Desiree?" Jason asked, his voice quiet. You could almost believe he was<br />calm.<br />"Eric sent me over here to Bon Temps as a reward for Bill," she said coyly, looking at Bill from the<br />corners of hereyes. "But he seems less than thrilled. I don't know why.<br />I'm practically a special vintage." "Eric?" Jason asked me.<br />"A vampire from Shreveport. Bar owner. Head honcho." "He left her on my doorstep," Bill told me. "I<br />didn't ask<br />for her."<br />"What are you going to do?"<br />"Send her back," he said impatiently. "You and I have to talk."<br />I gulped. I felt my fingers uncurl.<br />"She needs a ride back to Monroe?" Jason asked.<br />Bill looked surprised. "Yes. Are you offering? I need to talk to your sister."<br />"Sure," Jason said, all geniality. I was instantly suspicious.<br />"I can't believe you're refusing me," Desiree said, looking up at Bill and pouting. "No one has ever turned<br />me down before."<br />"Of course I am grateful, and I'm sure you are, as you put it, a special vintage," Bill said politely. "But I<br />have my own wine cellar."<br />Little Desiree stared at him blankly for a second before comprehension slowly lit her brown eyes. "This<br />woman yours?" she asked, jerking her head at me. "She is."<br />Jason shifted nervously at Bill's flat statement. Desiree gave me a good looking over. "She's got funny<br />eyes," she finally pronounced. "She's my sister," Jason said.<br />"Oh. I'm sorry. You're much more ... normal." Desiree gave Jason the up-and-down, and seemed more<br />pleased with what she saw. "Hey, what's your last name?"<br />Jason took her hand and began leading her toward his pickup. "Stackhouse," he was saying, giving her<br />the full eye treatment, as they walked away. "Maybe on the way home, you can tell me a little about what<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />you do ..."<br />I turned back to Bill, wondering what Jason's motive was for this generous act, and met Bill's gaze. It<br />was like walking into a brick wall.<br />"So, you want to talk?" I asked harshly. "Not here. Come home with me."<br />I scuffed the gravel with my shoe. "Not your house."<br />"Then yours."<br />"No."<br />He raised his arched brows. "Where then?"<br />Good question.<br />"My folks' pond." Since Jason was going to be giving Miss Dark and Tiny a ride home, he wouldn't be<br />there.<br />"I'll follow you," he said briefly, and we parted to go to our respective cars.<br />The property where I'd spent my first few years was to the west of Bon Temps. I turned down the<br />familiar gravel driveway and parked at the house, a modest ranch that Jason kept up pretty well. Bill<br />emerged from his car as I slid from mine, and I motioned him to follow me. We went around the house<br />and down the slope, following a path set with big paving stones. In a minute we were at the pond,<br />man-made, that my dad had put in our backyard and stocked, anticipating fishing with his son in that<br />water for years.<br />There was a kind of patio overlooking the water, and on one of the metal chairs was a folded blanket.<br />Without asking me, Bill picked it up and shook it out, spreading it on the grass downslope from the patio.<br />I sat on it reluctantly, thinking<br />the blanket wasn't safe for the same reasons meeting him in either home<br />wasn't safe. When I was close to Bill, what I thought about was being even closer to him.<br />I hugged my knees to me and stared off across the water. There was a security light on the other side of<br />the pond, and I could see it reflected in the still water. Bill lay on his back next to me. I could feel his eyes<br />on my face. He laced his fingers together across his ribs, ostentatiously keeping his hands to himself.<br />"Last night frightened you," he said neutrally.<br />"Weren't you just a little scared?" I asked, more quietly than I'd thought I would.<br />"For you. A little for myself."<br />I wanted to lie on my stomach but worried about getting that close to him. When I saw his skin glow in<br />the moonlight, I yearned to touch him.<br />"It scared me that Eric can control our lives while we're a couple."<br />"Do you not want to be a couple anymore?"<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />The pain in my chest was so bad I put my hand over it, pressing the area above my breast.<br />"Sookie?" He was kneeling by me, an arm around me.<br />I couldn't answer. I had no breath.<br />"Do you love me?" he asked.<br />I nodded.<br />"Why do you talk of leaving me?"<br />The pain made its way out through my eyes in the form of tears.<br />"I'm too scared of the other vampires and the way they are. What will he ask me to do next? He'll try to<br />make me do something else. He'll tell me he'll kill you otherwise. Or he'll threaten Jason. And he can do<br />it."<br />Bill's voice was as quiet as the sound of a cricket in the grass. A month ago, I might not have been able<br />to hear it. "Don't cry," he told me. "Sookie, I have to tell you unwelcome<br />facts."<br />The only welcome thing he could have told me at that point was that Eric was dead.<br />"Eric is intrigued by you now. He can tell you have mental powers that most humans don't have, or<br />ignore if they know they possess them. He anticipates your blood is rich and sweet." Bill's voice got<br />hoarse when he said that, and I shivered.<br />"And you're beautiful. You're even more beautiful now. He<br />doesn't realize you have had our blood three times." "You know that Long Shadow bled onto me?" "Yes.<br />I saw."<br />"Is there anything magic about three times?" He laughed, that low, nimbly, rusty laugh. "No. But the more<br />vampire blood you drink, the more desirable you become<br />to our kind, and actually, more desirable to<br />anyone. And Desiree thought she was a vintage! I wonder what vampire<br />said that to her."<br />"One that wanted to get in her pants," I said flatly, and he laughed again. I loved to hear him laugh.<br />"With all this telling me how lovely I am, are you saying that Eric, like, lusts for me?" "Yes."<br />"What's to stop him from taking me? You say he's stronger than you."<br />"Courtesy and custom, first of all."<br />I didn't snort, but I came close.<br />"Don't discount that. We're all observant of custom, we vampires. We have to live together for<br />centuries."<br />"Anything else?"<br />"I am not as strong as Eric, but I'm not a new vampire. He might get badly hurt in a fight with me, or I<br />might even win if I got lucky."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Anything else?"<br />"Maybe," Bill said carefully, "you yourself."<br />"How so?"<br />"If you can be valuable to him otherwise, he may leave you alone if he knows that is your sincere wish."<br />"But I don't want to be valuable to him! I don't want to ever see him again!"<br />"You promised Eric you'd help him again," Bill reminded me.<br />"If he turned the thief over to the police," I said. "And what did Eric do? He staked him!"<br />"Possibly saving your life in the process."<br />"Well, I found his thief!"<br />"Sookie, you don't know much about the world."<br />I stared at him, surprised. "I guess that's so."<br />"Things don't turn out... even." Bill stared out into the darkness. "Even I think sometimes I don't know<br />much, anymore."<br />Another gloomy pause. "I have only once before seen one vampire stake another. Eric<br />is going beyond the limits of our world."<br />"So, he's not too likely to take much notice of that custom and courtesy you were bragging about<br />earlier."<br />"Pam may keep him to the old ways."<br />"What is she to him?"<br />"He made her. That is, he made her vampire, centuries ago. She comes back to him from time to time<br />and helps him do whatever he is doing at the moment. Eric's always been something of a rogue, and the<br />older he gets the more willful he gets." Calling Eric willful seemed a huge understatement to me.<br />"So, have we talked our way around in circles?" I asked.<br />Bill seemed to be considering. "Yes," he confirmed, a tinge of regret in his voice. "You don't like<br />associating with vampires other than myself, and I have told you we have no choice."<br />"How about this Desiree thing?"<br />"He had someone drop her off on my doorstep, hoping I would be pleased he'd sent me a pretty gift.<br />Also, it would test my devotion to you if I drank from her. Perhaps he poisoned her blood somehow, and<br />her blood would have weakened me. Maybe she would just have been a crack in my armor." He<br />shrugged. "Did you think I had a date?"<br />"Yes." I felt my face harden, thinking about Bill walking in with the girl.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"You weren't at home. I had to come find you." His tone wasn't accusatory, but it wasn't happy, either.<br />"I was trying to help Jason out by listening. And I was still upset from last night." "Are we all right now?"<br />"No, but we're as all right as we can get," I said. "I guess no matter who I cared for, it wouldn't always<br />go smooth. But I hadn't counted on obstacles this drastic. There's no way you can ever outrank Eric, I<br />guess, since age is the criterion?"<br />"No," said Bill. "Not outrank..." and he suddenly looked thoughtful. "Though there may be something I<br />can do along those lines. I don't want to—it goes against my nature—but we would be more secure." I<br />let him think.<br />"Yes," he concluded, ending his long brood. He didn't offer to explain, and I didn't ask.<br />"I love you," he said, as if that was the bottom line to whatever course of action he was considering. His<br />face loomed over me, luminous and beautiful in the half-darkness. "I feel the same about you," I said, and<br />put my hands against his chest so he wouldn't tempt me. "But we have too much against us right now. If<br />we can pry Eric off our backs, that would help. And another thing, we have to stop this murder<br />investigation. That would be a second big piece of trouble off our backs. This murderer has the deaths of<br />yourfriends to answer for, and the deaths of Maudette and Dawn to answer for." I paused, took a deep<br />breath. "And the death of my grandmother." I blinked back tears. I'd gotten adjusted to Gran not being in<br />the house when I came home, and I was getting used to not talking to her and sharing my day with her,<br />but every now and then I had a stab of grief so acute it robbed me of breath.<br />"Why do you think the same killer is responsible for the Monroe vampires being burned?"<br />"I think it was the murderer who planted this idea, this vigilante thing, in the men in the bar that night. I<br />think it was the murderer who went from group to group, egging the guys on. I've lived here all my life,<br />and I've never seen people around here act that way. There's got to be a reason they did this time."<br />"He agitated them? Fomented the burning?"<br />"Yes."<br />"Listening hasn't turned up anything?"<br />"No," I admitted glumly. "But that's not to say tomorrow will be the same."<br />"You're an optimist, Sookie."<br />"Yes, I am. I have to be." I patted his cheek, thinking how my optimism had been justified since he had<br />entered my life.<br />"You keep on listening, since you think it may be fruitful," he said. "I'll work on something else, for now.<br />I'll see you tomorrow evening at your place, okay? I may... no, let me explain then."<br />"All right." I was curious, but Bill obviously wasn't ready to talk.<br />On my way home, following the taillights of Bill's car as far as my driveway, I thought of how much more<br />frightening the past few weeks would have been if I hadn't had the security of Bill's presence. As I went<br />cautiously down the driveway, I found myself wishing Bill hadn't felt he had to go home to make some<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />necessary phone calls. The few nights we'd spent apart, I wouldn't say I'd been exactly writhing with fear,<br />but I'd been very jumpy and anxious. At the house by myself, I spent lots of time going from locked<br />window to locked door, and I wasn't used to living that way. I felt disheartened at the thought of the night<br />ahead.<br />Before I got out of my car, I scanned the yard, glad I'd remembered to turn on the security lights before<br />I left for the bar. Nothing was moving. Usually Tina came running when I'd been gone, anxious to get in<br />the house for some cat kibble, but tonight she must be hunting in the woods.<br />I separated my house key from the bunch on my key ring. I dashed from the car to the front door,<br />inserted and twisted the key in record time, and slammed and locked the door behind me. This was no<br />way to live, I thought, shaking my head in dismay; and just as I completed that idea, something hit the<br />front door with a thud. I shrieked before I could stop myself.<br />I ran for the portable phone by the couch. I punched in Bill's number as I went around the room pulling<br />down the shades. What if the line was busy? He'd said he was going home to use the phone!<br />But I caught him just as he walked in the door. He sounded breathless as he picked up the receiver.<br />"Yes?" he said. He always sounded suspicious. "Bill," I gasped, "there's someone outside!" He crashed<br />the phone down. A vampire of action. He was there in two minutes. Looking out into the yard from a<br />slightly lifted blind, I glimpsed him coming into the yard from the woods, moving with a speed and silence<br />a human could never equal. The relief of seeing him was overwhelming.<br />For a second I felt ashamed at<br />calling Bill to rescue me: I should have handled the situation myself. Then I thought, Why? When you<br />know a practically invincible being who professes to adore you, someone so hard to kill it's next to<br />impossible, someone preternaturally strong, that's who you're gonna call.<br />Bill investigated the yard and the woods, moving with a sure, silent grace. Finally he came lightly up the<br />steps. He bent over something on the front porch. The angle was too acute, and I couldn't tell what it<br />was. When he straightened, he had something in his hands, and he looked absolutely ... expressionless.<br />This was very bad.<br />I went reluctantly to the front door and unlocked it I pushed out the screen door.<br />Bill was holding the body of my cat.<br />"Tina?" I said, hearing my voice quaver and not caring at all. "Is she dead?"<br />Bill nodded, one little jerk of his head.<br />"What—how?"<br />"Strangled, I think."<br />I could feel my face crumple. Bill had to stand there holding<br />the corpse while I cried my eyes out.<br />"I never got that live oak," I said, having calmed a little. I didn't sound very steady. "We can put her in<br />that hole." So around to the backyard we went, poor Bill holding Tina, trying to look comfortable about<br />it, and me trying not to dissolve again. Bill knelt and lay the little bundle of black fur at the bottom of my<br />excavation. I fetched the shovel and began to fill it in, but the sight of the first dirt hitting Tina's fur undid<br />me all over again. Silently, Bill took the shovel from my hands. I turned my back, and he finished the<br />awful job.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Come inside," he said gently when it was finished.<br />We went in the house, having to walk around to the front because I hadn't yet unlocked the back.<br />Bill patted me and comforted me, though I knew he hadn't ever been crazy about Tina. "God bless you,<br />Bill," I whispered.<br />I tightened my arms around him ferociously, in a sudden<br />convulsion of fear that he,<br />too, would be taken from me. When I'd gotten the sobs reduced to hiccups, I looked up, hoping I hadn't<br />made him uncomfortable with my flood of emotion.<br />Bill was furious. He was staring at the wall over my shoulder,<br />and his eyes were glowing. He was the<br />most frightening thing I'd ever seen in my life.<br />"Did you find anything out in the yard?" I asked.<br />"No. I found traces of his presence. Some footprints, a lingering scent. Nothing you could bring into<br />court as proof," he went on, reading my mind.<br />"Would you mind staying here until you have to go to ... get away from the sun?"<br />"Of course." He stared at me. He'd fully intended to do that whether or not I agreed, I could tell.<br />"If you still need to make phone calls, just make themhere. I don't care." I meant if they were on my<br />phone bill.<br />"I have a calling card," he said, once again astonishing me. Who would have thought?<br />I washed my face and took a Tylenol before I put on my nightgown, sadder than I'd been since Gran<br />had been killed, and sadder in different way. The death of a pet is naturally not in the same category as<br />the death of a family member, I chided myself, but it didn't seem to affect my misery. I went through all<br />the reasoning I was capable of and came no closer to any truth except the fact that I'd fed and brushed<br />and loved Tina for four years, and I would miss her.<br />Chapter 11<br />MY NERVES WERE raw the next day. When I got to work and told Arlene what had happened, she<br />gave me a hard hug, and said, "I'd like to kill the bastard that did that to poor Tina!" Somehow, that<br />made me feel a lot better. Charlsie was just as sympathetic, if more concerned with the shock to me<br />rather than the agonized demise of my cat. Sam just looked grim. He thought I should call the sheriff, or<br />Andy Bellefleur, and tell one of them what had happened. I finally did call Bud Dearborn.<br />"Usually these things go in cycles," Bud rumbled. "Ain't nobody else reported a pet missing or dead,<br />though. I'm afraid it sounds like some kind a personal thing, Sookie. That vampire friend of yours, he like<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />cats?"<br />I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I was using the phone in Sam's office, and he was sitting behind<br />the desk figuring out his next liquor order.<br />"Bill was at home when whoever killed Tina threw her on my porch," I said as calmly as I could. "I<br />called him directly afterward, and he answered the phone." Sam looked up quizzically,<br />and I rolled my<br />eyes to let him know my opinion of the sheriff's suspicions.<br />"And he told you the cat was strangled," Bud went onponderously.<br />"Yes."<br />"Do you have the ligature?"<br />"No. I didn't even see what it was."<br />"What did you do with the kitty?"<br />"We buried her."<br />"Was that your idea or Mr. Compton's?"<br />"Mine." What else would we have done with Tina?<br />"We may come dig your kitty up. If we had had the ligature<br />and the cat, maybe we could see if the<br />method of strangulation<br />matched the method used in killing Dawn and Maudette," Bud explained<br />ponderously.<br />"I'm sorry. I didn't think about that."<br />"Well, it don't matter much. Without the ligature."<br />"Okay, good-bye." I hung up, probably applying a little more pressure than the receiver required. Sam's<br />eyebrows lifted.<br />"Bud is a jerk," I told him.<br />"Bud's not a bad policeman," Sam said quietly. "None of us here are used to murders that are this sick."<br />"You're right," I admitted, after a moment. "I wasn't being fair. He just kept saying 'ligature' like he was<br />proud he'd learned a new word. I'm sorry I got mad at him."<br />"You don't have to be perfect, Sookie."<br />"You mean I get to screw up and be less than understanding<br />and forgiving, from time to time? Thanks,<br />boss." I smiled at him, feeling the wry twist to my lips, and got up off the edge of his desk where I'd been<br />propped to make my phone call. I stretched. It wasn't until I saw the way Sam's eyes drank in that<br />stretch that I became self-conscious again. "Back to work!" I said briskly and strode out of the room,<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />trying to make sure there wasn't a hint of sway to my hips.<br />"Would you keep the kids for a couple of hours this evening?"<br />Arlene asked, a little shyly. I<br />remembered the last time we'd talked about my keeping her kids, and I remembered<br />the offense I'd<br />taken at her reluctance to leave her kids with a vampire. I hadn't been thinking like a mother would think.<br />Now, Arlene was trying to apologize.<br />"I'd be glad to." I waited to see if Arlene would mention Bill again, but she didn't. "When to when?"<br />"Well, Rene and I are gonna go to the movies in Monroe," she said. "Say, six-thirty?"<br />"Sure. Will they have had supper?"<br />"Oh, yeah, I'll feed 'em. They'll be excited to see their aunt Sookie."<br />"I look forward to it."<br />'Thanks," Arlene said. She paused, almost said something else, then appeared to think again. "See you at<br />six-thirty."<br />I got home about five, most of the way driving against the sun, which was glaring like it was staring me<br />down. I changed to a blue-and-green knit short set, brushed my hair and secured it with a banana clip. I<br />had a sandwich, sitting uneasily by myself at the kitchen table. The house felt big and empty, and I was<br />glad to see Rene drive up with Coby and Lisa.<br />"Arlene's having trouble with one of her artificial nails," he explained, looking embarrassed at having to<br />relay this feminine problem. "And Coby and Lisa were raring to get over here." I noticed Rene was still in<br />his work clothes— heavy boots, knife, hat, and all. Arlene wasn't going to let him take her anywhere until<br />he showered and changed.<br />Coby was eight and Lisa was five, and they were hanging all over me like big earrings when Rene bent<br />to kiss them good-bye. His affection for the kids gave Rene a big gold star in my book, and I smiled at<br />him approvingly. I took the kids' hands to lead them back to the kitchen for some icecream.<br />"We'll see you about ten-thirty, eleven," he said. "If that's all right." He put his hand on the doorknob.<br />"Sure," I agreed. I opened my mouth to offer to keep the kids for the night, as I'd done on previous<br />occasions, but then I thought of Tina's limp body. I decided that tonight they'd better not stay. I raced the<br />kids to the kitchen, and a minute or two later I heard Rene's old pickup rattling downthe driveway.<br />I picked up Lisa. "I can hardly lift you anymore, girl, you're getting so big! And you, Coby, you shaving<br />yet?" We sat at the table for a good thirty minutes while the children ate ice cream and rattled off their list<br />of achievements since we'd last visited.<br />Then Lisa wanted to read to me, so I got out a coloring book with the color and number words printed<br />inside, and she read those to me with some pride. Coby, of course, had to prove he could read much<br />better, and then they wanted to watch a favorite show. Before I knew it, it was dark.<br />"My friend is coming over tonight," I told them. "His name is Bill."<br />"Mama told us you had a special friend," Coby said. "I better like him. He better be nice to you."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Oh, he is," I assured the boy, who had straightened and thrust out his chest, ready to defend me if my<br />special friend wasn't nice enough in Coby's estimation.<br />"Does he send you flowers?" Lisa asked romantically.<br />"No, not yet. Maybe you can kind of hint I'd like some?"<br />"Ooo. Yeah, I can do that."<br />"Has he asked you to marry him?<br />"Well, no. But I haven't asked him, either."<br />Naturally, Bill picked that moment to knock.<br />"I have company," I said, smiling, when I answered the door.<br />"I can hear," he said.<br />I took his hand and led him into the kitchen.<br />"Bill, this is Coby and this young woman is Lisa," I said formally.<br />"Good, I've been wanting to meet you," Bill said, to my surprise. "Lisa and Coby, is it all right with you if<br />I keep company with your aunt Sookie?"<br />They eyed him thoughtfully. "She isn't really our aunt," Coby said, testing the waters. "She's our mom's<br />good friend."<br />"Is that right?"<br />"Yes, and she says you don't send her flowers," Lisa said. For once, her little voice was crystal clear. I<br />was so glad to realize that Lisa had gotten over her little problem with herr's. Really.<br />Bill looked sideways at me. I shrugged. "Well, they asked me," I said helplessly.<br />"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully. "I'll have to mend my ways, Lisa. Thank you for pointing that out to me.<br />When is Aunt Sookie's birthday, do you know?" ,<br />I could feel my face flushing. "Bill," I said sharply. "Cut it out."<br />"Do you know, Coby?" Bill asked the boy.<br />Coby shook his head, regretfully. "But I know it's in the summer because the last time Mama took<br />Sookie to lunch in Shreveport for her birthday, it was summertime. We stayed with Rene."<br />"You're smart to remember that, Coby," Bill told him.<br />"I'm smarter than that! Guess what I learned in school the other day." And Coby was off and running.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Lisa eyed Bill with great attention the whole time Coby spoke, and when Coby was finished, she said,<br />"You look real white. Bill."<br />"Yes," he said, "that's my normal complexion."<br />The kids exchanged glances. I could tell they were deciding<br />that "normal complexion" was an illness,<br />and it wouldn't be too polite to ask more questions. Every now and then children show a certain<br />tactfulness.<br />Bill, initially a little stiff, began to get more and more flexible as the evening wore on. I was ready to<br />admit I was tired by nine, but he was still going strong with the kids when Arlene and Rene came by to<br />pick them up at eleven.<br />I'd just introduced my friends to Bill, who shook their hands in an absolutely normal way, when another<br />caller arrived.<br />A handsome vampire with thick black hair combed into an improbable wavy style strolled up out of the<br />woods as Arlene was bundling the kids into the truck, and Rene and Bill were chatting. Bill waved a<br />casual hand at the vampire, and he raised one in return, joining Bill and Rene as if he'd been expected.<br />From the front porch swing, I watched Bill introduce the two, and the vampire and Rene shook hands.<br />Rene was gaping<br />at the newcomer, and I could tell he felt he'd recognized him. Bill looked meaningfully<br />at Rene and shook his head, and Rene's mouth closed on whatever comment he'd been going to make.<br />The newcomer was husky, taller than Bill, and he wore old jeans and an "I Visited Graceland" T-shirt.<br />His heavy boots were worn at the heel. He carried a squirt bottle ofsynthetic blood in one hand and took<br />a swig from time to time. Mr. Social Skills.<br />Maybe I'd been cued by Rene's reaction, but the more I looked at the vampire, the more familiar he<br />seemed. I tried mentally warming up the skin tone, adding a few lines, making<br />him stand straighter and<br />investing his face with some liveliness.<br />Oh my God.<br />It was the man from Memphis.<br />Rene turned to go, and Bill began steering the newcomer up to me. From ten feet away, the vampire<br />called, "Hey, Bill tells me someone killed your cat!" He had a heavy Southern accent.<br />Bill closed his eyes for a second, and I just nodded speechlessly.<br />I said"Well, I'm sorry about that. I like cats," the tall vampire id, and I clearly got the idea he didn't mean<br />he liked to stroke their fur. I hoped the kids weren't picking up on that, but Arlene's horrified face<br />appeared in the truck window. All the good will Bill had established had probably just gone down the<br />drain.<br />Rene shook his head behind the vampire's back and climbed into the driver's seat, calling a good-bye as<br />he started up the engine. He stuck his head out the window for a long last look at the newcomer. He<br />must have said something<br />to Arlene because she appeared at her window again, staring for all she was<br />worth. I saw her mouth drop open in shock as she looked harder at the creature standing beside Bill. Her<br />head disappeared into the truck, and I heard a screech as the truck pulled away. "Sookie," Bill said<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />warningly, "this isBubba." "Bubba," I repeated, not quite trusting my ears. "Yep, Bubba," the vampire<br />said cheerfully, goodwill radiating<br />from his fearsome smile. "That's me. Pleased to meetcha."<br />I shook hands with him, making myself smile back. Good God Almighty, I never thought I'd be shaking<br />hands withHim. But he'd sure changed for the worse.<br />"Bubba, would you mind waiting here on the porch? Let me explain our arrangement to Sookie."<br />"That's all right with me," Bubba said casually. He settled on the swing, as happy and brainless as a clam.<br />We went into the living room, but not before I'd noticed that when Bubba had made his appearance,<br />much of the night noise—bugs, frogs—had simply stopped. "I had hoped to explain this to you before<br />Bubba got here," Bill whispered. "But I couldn't."<br />I said, "Is that who I think it is?"<br />"Yes. So now you know at least some of the sighting stories<br />are true. Butdon't call him by his name.<br />Call him Bubba! Something went wrong when he came over—from human to vampire—maybe it was all<br />the chemicals in his blood." "But he was really dead, wasn't he?" "Not... quite. One of us was a morgue<br />attendant and a big fan, and he could detect the tiny spark still left, so he brought him over, in a hurried<br />manner." "Brought him over?"<br />"Made him vampire," Bill explained. "But that was a mistake.<br />He's never been the same from what my<br />friends tell me. He's as smart as a tree trunk, so to make a living he does odd jobs for the rest of us. We<br />can't have him out in public, you can see that."<br />I nodded, my mouth hanging open. Of course not. "Geez," I murmured, stunned at the royalty in my<br />yard.<br />"So remember how stupid he is, and how impulsive ... don't spend time alone with him, and don't ever<br />call him anything but Bubba. Also, he likes pets, as he told you, and a diet of their blood hasn't made him<br />any the more reliable. Now, as to why I brought him here ..."<br />I stood with my arms across my chest, waiting for Bill's explanation with some interest.<br />"Sweetheart, I have to go out of town for a while," Billsaid.<br />The unexpectedness of this completely disconcerted me.<br />"What... why? No, wait. I don't need to know." I waved my hands in front of me, shooing away any<br />implication that Bill was obligated to tell me his business.<br />"I'll tell you when I get back," he said firmly.<br />"So where does your friend—Bubba—come in?" Though I had a nasty feeling I already knew.<br />"Bubba is going to watch you while I'm gone," Bill said stiffly.<br />I raised my eyebrows.<br />"All right. He's not long on..." Bill cast around. "... anything," he finally admitted. "But he's strong, and<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />he'll do what I tell him, and he'll make sure no one breaks into your house."<br />"He'll stay out in the woods?"<br />"Oh, yes," Bill said emphatically. "He's not even supposed to come up and speak to you. At dark, he'll<br />just find a place from which he can see the house, and he'll watch all night."<br />I'd have to remember to close my blinds. The idea of the dim vampire peering in my windows was not<br />edifying.<br />"You really think this is necessary?" I asked helplessly. "You know, I don't remember you asking me."<br />Bill sort of heaved, his version of taking a deep breath. "Sweetheart," he began in an overly patient<br />voice, "I am trying very hard to get used to the way women want to be treated now. But it isn't natural to<br />me, especially when I fear you are in danger. I'm trying to give myself peace of mind while I'm gone. I<br />wish I didn't have to go, and it isn't what I want to do, but what I have to do, for us."<br />I eyed him. "I hear you," I said finally. "I'm not crazy about this, but I am afraid at night, and I guess ...<br />well, okay."<br />Frankly, I don't think it mattered a damn whether I consented<br />or not. After all, how could I make<br />Bubba leave if he didn't want to go? Even the law enforcement people in our little town didn't have the<br />equipment to deal with vampires, and if they were faced with this particular vampire, they'd just stand and<br />gape for long enough for him to tear them apart. I appreciated Bill's concern, and I figured I better have<br />the good grace to thank him. I gave him a little hug.<br />"Well, if you have to go off, you just be careful while you're gone," I said, trying not to sound forlorn.<br />"Do you have a place to stay?"<br />"Yes. I'll be in New Orleans. There was a room open at the Blood in the Quarter."<br />I'd read an article about this hotel, the first in the world that catered exclusively to vampires. It promised<br />complete security, and so far it had delivered. It was right smack dab in the middle of the French<br />Quarter, too. And at dusk it was absolutely surrounded by fang-bangers and tourists waiting<br />for the<br />vampires to come out.<br />I began to feel envious. Trying not to look like a wistful puppy who's being pushed back in the door<br />when its owners leave, I yanked my smile back into place. "Well, you have a good time," I said brightly.<br />"Got your packing done? The drive should take a few hours, and it's already dark."<br />"The car is ready." I understood for the first time that he had delayed leaving to spend time with me and<br />Arlene's kids. "I had better leave." He hesitated, seemed to be searching for the right words. Then he<br />held out his hands to me. I took them, and he pulled a little, just exerted a tiny pressure. I moved into his<br />embrace. I rubbed my face against his shirt. My arms circled him, pressed him into me.<br />"I'll miss you," he said. His voice was just a breath in the air, but I heard him. I felt him kiss the top of my<br />head, and then he stepped away from me and out the front door. I heard his voice on the front porch as<br />he gave Bubba some last minute directions, and I heard the squeak of the swing as Bubba got up.<br />I didn't look out the window until I heard Bill's car going down the driveway. Then I saw Bubba<br />sauntering into the woods. I told myself, as I took my shower, that Bill must trust Bubba since he'd left<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />him guarding me. But I still wasn't sure who I was more afraid of: the murderer Bubba was watching for,<br />or Bubba himself.<br />WORK THE next day, Arlene asked me why the vampire<br />had been at my house. I wasn't surprised<br />that she'd brought it up.<br />"Well, Bill had to go out of town, and he worries, you know ..." I was hoping to let it drop at that. But<br />Charlsie had drifted up (we weren't at all busy: the Chamber of Commerce<br />was having a lunch and<br />speaker at Fins and Hooves, and the Ladies' Prayers and Potatoes group were topping their baked<br />potatoes at old Mrs. Bellefleur's huge house).<br />"You mean," Charlsie said with starry eyes, "that your man got you a personal bodyguard?" I nodded<br />reluctantly. You could put it that way. "That's so romantic," Charlsie sighed. You could look at it that<br />way.<br />"But you should see him," Arlene told Charlsie, havingheld her tongue as long as she could. "He's exactly<br />like—!"<br />"Oh, no, not when you talk to him," I interrupted. "He's<br />not at all the same." That was true. "And he really doesn'tlike it when he hears that name."<br />"Oh," said Arlene in a hushed voice, as if Bubba could be listening in the broad daylight.<br />"I do feel safer with Bubba in the woods," I said, which was more or less true.<br />"Oh, he doesn't stay in the house?" Charlsie asked, clearly a little disappointed.<br />"God, no!" I said, then mentally apologized to God for taking his name in vain. I was having to do that a<br />lot lately. "No, Bubba stays in the woods at night, watching the house." "Was that true about the cats?"<br />Arlene looked squeamish. "He was just joking. Not a great sense of humor, huh?" I was lying through my<br />teeth. I certainly believed Bubba enjoyed<br />a snack of cat blood.<br />Arlene shook her head, unconvinced. It was time to change the subject. "Did you and Rene have fun on<br />your evening out?" I asked.<br />"Rene was so good last night, wasn't he?" she said, her cheeks pink.<br />A much-married woman, blushing. "You tell me." Arlene enjoyed a little ribald teasing.<br />"Oh, you! What I mean, he was real polite to Bill and even that Bubba."<br />"Any reason why he wouldn't be?"<br />"He has kind of a problem with vampires, Sookie." Arlene shook her head. "I know, I do, too," she<br />confessed when I looked at her with raised eyebrows. "But Rene really has some, prejudice. Cindy<br />dated a vampire for a while, and that just made Rene awful upset."<br />"Cindy okay?" I had a great interest in the health of someone<br />who'd dated a vamp.<br />"I haven't seen her," Arlene admitted, "but Rene goes to visit every other week or so. She's doing well,<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />she's back on the right track. She has a job in a hospital cafeteria."<br />Sam, who'd been standing behind the bar loading the refrigerator<br />with bottled blood, said, "Maybe<br />Cindy would like to move back home. Lindsey Krause quit the other shift because<br />she's moving to Little<br />Rock."<br />That certainly focussed our attention. Merlotte's was becoming<br />seriously understaffed. For some<br />reason, low-level service jobs had dropped in popularity in the last couple of months.<br />"You interviewed anyone else?" Arlene asked. "I'll have to go through the files," Sam said wearily. I<br />knew that Arlene and I were the only barmaids, waitresses, servers, whatever you wanted to call us, that<br />Sam had hung on to for more then two years. No, that wasn't true; there was Susanne Mitchell, on the<br />other shift. Sam spent lots of time hiring and occasionally firing. "Sookie, would you have a look through<br />the file, see if there's anyone there you know has moved, anyone already got a job, anyone you really<br />recommend?<br />That would save me some time."<br />"Sure," I said. I remembered Arlene doing the same thing a couple of years ago when Dawn had been<br />hired. We had more ties to the community than Sam, who never seemed to join anything. Sam had been<br />in Bon Temps for six years now, and I had never met anyone who seemed to know about Sam's life<br />prior to his buying the bar here.<br />I settled down at Sam's desk with the thick file of applications.<br />After a few minutes, I could tell I was<br />really making a difference. I had three piles: moved, employed elsewhere, good material. Then I added a<br />fourth and fifth stack: a pile for people I couldn't work with because I couldn't stand them, and a pile for<br />the dead. The first form on the fifth pile had been filled out by a girl who'd died in a car accident last<br />Christmas, and I felt sorry for her folks all over again when I saw her name at the top of the form. The<br />other application was headed "Maudette Pickens."<br />Maudette had applied for a job with Sam three months before her death. I guess working at Grabbit<br />Kwik was pretty uninspiring. When I glanced over the filled-in blanks and noticed how poor Maudette's<br />handwriting and spelling had been, it made me feel pitiful all over again. I tried to imagine my brother<br />thinking of having sex with this woman—and filming it—was a worthwhile way to spend his time, and I<br />marvelled at Jason's strange mentality. I hadn't seen him since he'd driven off with Desiree. I hoped he'd<br />gotten home in one piece. That gal was a real handful. I wished he'd settle down with Liz Barrett: she had<br />enough backbone to hold him up, too.<br />Whenever I thought about my brother lately, it was to worry. If only he hadn't known Maudette and<br />Dawn so well! Lots of men knew them both, apparently, both casually and carnally. They'd both been<br />vampire bitten. Dawn had liked rough sex, and I didn't know Maudette's proclivities. Lots of men got gas<br />and coffee at the Grabbit Kwik, and lots of men came in to get a drink here, too. But only my stupid<br />brother had recorded sex with Dawn and Maudette on film.<br />I stared at the big plastic cup on Sam's desk, which had been full of iced tea. "The Big Kwencher from<br />Grabbit Kwik" was written in neon orange on the side of the green cup. Sam knew them both, too.<br />Dawn had worked for him, Maudette had applied for a job here.<br />Sam sure didn't likeme dating a vampire. Maybe he didn't likeanyone dating a vampire.<br />Sam walked in just then, and I jumped like I'd been doing something bad. And I had, in my book.<br />Thinking evil of a friend was a bad thing to do.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Which is the good pile?" he asked, but he gave me a puzzled look.<br />I handed him a short stack of maybe ten applications. "This gal, Amy Burley," I said, indicating the one<br />on top, "has experience, she's only subbing at the Good Times Bar, and Charlsie used to work with her<br />there. So you could check with Charlsie first."<br />"Thanks, Sookie. This'll save me some trouble."<br />I nodded curtly in acknowledgment.<br />"Are you all right?" he asked. "You seem kind of distant today."<br />I looked at him closely. He looked just like he always did. But his mind was closed to me. How could<br />he do that? Theonly other mind completely closed to me was Bill's, because of his vampire state. But<br />Sam was sure no vampire.<br />"Just missing Bill," I said deliberately. Would he lecture me about the evils of dating a vampire?<br />Sam said, "It's daytime. He couldn't very well be here."<br />"Of course not," I said stiffly, and was about to add, "He's out of town." Then I asked myself if that was<br />a smart thing to do when I had even a hint of suspicion in my heart about my boss. I left the office so<br />abruptly that Sam stared after me in astonishment.<br />When I saw Arlene and Sam having a long conversation later that day, their sidelong glances told me<br />clearly that I was the topic. Sam went back to his office looking more worried than ever. But we didn't<br />have any more chitchat the rest of the day.<br />Going home that evening was hard because I knew I'd be alone until morning. When I'd been alone<br />other evenings, I'd had the reassurance that Bill was just a phone call away. Now he wasn't. I tried to feel<br />good about being guarded once it was dark and Bubba crawled out of whatever hole he'd slept in, but I<br />didn't manage it.<br />I called Jason, but he wasn't home. I called Merlotte's, thinking he might be there, but Terry Bellefleur<br />answered the phone and said Jason hadn't been in.<br />I wondered what Sam was doing tonight. I wondered why he never seemed to date much. It wasn't for<br />want of offers, I'd been able to observe many times.<br />Dawn had been especially aggressive.<br />That evening I couldn't think of anything that pleased me.<br />I began wondering if Bubba was the hitman—hitvam-pire?—Bill had called when he wanted Uncle<br />Bartlett bumped off. I wondered why Bill had chosen such a dim-witted creature to guard me.<br />Every book I picked up seemed wrong, somehow. Every television show I tried to watch seemed<br />completely ridiculous.<br />I tried to read myTime and became incensed at the determination to commit<br />suicide that possessed so many nations. I pitched the magazine across the room.<br />My mind scrabbled around like a squirrel trying to get outof a cage. It couldn't light on anything or be<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />comfortable anywhere.<br />When the phone rang, I jumped a foot. "Hello?" I said harshly.<br />"Jason's here now," Terry Bellefleur said. "He wants to buy you a drink."<br />I thought uneasily about going out to the car, now that it was dark; about coming home to an empty<br />house, at least a house I would have to hope was empty. Then I scolded myself<br />because, after all, there<br />would be someone watching the house, someone very strong, if very brainless.<br />"Okay, I'll be there in a minute," I said.<br />Terry simply hung up. Mr. Chatterbox.<br />I pulled on a denim skirt and a yellow T-shirt and, looking both ways, crossed the yard to my car. I'd<br />left on every outside light, and I unlocked my car and scooted inside quick as a wink. Once inside the<br />car, I relocked my door.<br />This was sure no way to live.<br />I AUTOMATICALLY PARKED in the employee lot when I got to Merlotte's. There was a dog<br />pawing around the Dumpster, and I patted him on the head when I went in. We had to call the pound<br />about once a week to come get some stray or dumped dogs, so many of them pregnant it just made me<br />sick.<br />Terry was behind the bar. "Hey," I said, looking around. "Where's Jason?" "He ain't here," Terry said. "I<br />haven't seen him this evening.<br />I told you so on the phone."<br />I gaped at him. "But you called me after that and said he had come in."<br />"No, I didn't."<br />We stared at each other. Terry was having one of his bad nights, I could tell. His head was writhing<br />around on the inside with the snakes of his army service and his battle with alcohol and drugs. On the<br />outside, you could see he was flushed and sweating despite the air conditioning, and his movements were<br />jerky and clumsy. Poor Terry.<br />"You really didn't?" I asked, in as neutral a tone as possible.<br />"Said so, didn't I?" His voice was belligerent.<br />I hoped none of the bar patrons gave Terry trouble tonight.<br />I backed out with a conciliatory smile.<br />The dog was still at the back door. He whined when he saw me.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Are you hungry, fella?" I asked. He came right up to me, without the cringing I'd come to expect from<br />strays. As he moved more into the light, I saw that this dog had been recently abandoned, if his glossy<br />coat was any indicator. He was a collie, at least mostly. I started to step into the kitchen to ask whoever<br />was cooking if they had any scraps for this guy, but then I had a better idea.<br />"I know bad ol' Bubba is at the house, but maybe you could come in the house with me," I said in that<br />baby voice I use with animals when I think nobody's listening. "Can you pee outside, so we don't make a<br />mess in the house? Hmmm, boy?"<br />As if he'd understood me, the collie marked the corner of the Dumpster.<br />"Good fella! Come for a ride?" I opened my car door, hoping he wouldn't get the seats too dirty. The<br />dog hesitated. "Come on, sugar, I'll give you something good to eat when we get to my place, okay?"<br />Bribery was not necessarily a bad thing.<br />After a couple more looks and a thorough sniffing of my hands, the dog jumped onto the passenger seat<br />and sat looking<br />out the windshield like he'd committed himself to this adventure.<br />I told him I appreciated it, and I tickled his ears. We set off, and the dog made it clear he was used to<br />riding.<br />"Now, when we get to the house, buddy," I told the collie firmly, "we're gonna make tracks for the front<br />door, okay? There's an ogre in the woods who'd just love to eat you up."<br />The dog gave an excited yip.<br />"Well, he's not gonna get a chance," I soothed him. It sure was nice to have something to talk to. It was<br />even nice he couldn't talk back, at least for the moment. And I didn't haveto keep my guard up because<br />he wasn't human. Relaxing. "We're gonna hurry."<br />"Woof," agreed my companion.<br />"I got to call you something," I said. "How about... Buffy?"<br />The dog growled.<br />"Okay. Rover?"<br />Whine.<br />"Don't like that either. Hmmm." We turned into my driveway.<br />"Maybe you already have a name?" I asked. "Let me check your neck." After I turned off the engine, I<br />ran my fingers through the thick hair. Not even a flea collar. "Someone's<br />been taking bad care of you,<br />sweetie," I said. "But not anymore. I'll be a good mama." With that last inanity, I got my house key ready<br />and opened my door. In a flash, the dog pushed past me and stood in the yard, looking around him<br />alertly. He sniffed the air, and a growl rose in his throat.<br />"It's just the good vampire, sugar, the one that's guarding the house. You come on inside." With some<br />constant coaxing,<br />I got the dog to come into the house. I locked the door behind us instantly.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />The dog padded all around the living room, sniffing and peering. After watching him for a minute to be<br />sure he wasn't going to chew on anything or lift his leg, I went to the kitchen to find something for him to<br />eat. I filled a big bowl with water. I got another plastic bowl Gran had kept lettuce in, and I put the<br />remains of Tina's cat food and some leftover taco meat in it. I figured if you'd been starving, that would<br />be acceptable. The dog finally worked his back to the kitchen and headed for the bowls. He sniffed at<br />the food and raised his head to give me a long look.<br />"I'm sorry. I don't have any dog food. That's the best I could come up with. If you want to stay with me,<br />I'll get some Kibbles 'N Bits." The dog stared at me for a few more seconds, then bent his head to the<br />bowl. He ate a little meat, took a drink, and looked up at me expectantly. "Can I call you Rex?" A little<br />growl. "What about Dean?" I asked. "Dean's a nice name." Apleasant guy who helped me at a<br />Shreveport bookstore was named Dean. His eyes looked kind of like this collie's, observant<br />and<br />intelligent. And Dean was a little different; I'd never met a dog named Dean. "I'll bet you're smarter than<br />Bubba," I said thoughtfully, and the dog gave his short, sharp bark.<br />"Well, come on, Dean, let's get ready for bed," I said, quite enjoying having something to talk to. The<br />dog padded after me into the bedroom, checking out all the furniture very thoroughly. I pulled off the skirt<br />and tee, put them away, and stepped out of my panties and unhooked my bra. The dog watched me with<br />great attention while I pulled out a clean nightgown and went into the bathroom to shower. When I<br />stepped out, clean and soothed, Dean was sitting in the doorway,<br />his head cocked to one side.<br />"That's to get clean, people like to have showers," I told him. "I know dogs don't. I guess it's a human<br />thing." I brushed my teeth and pulled on my nightgown. "You ready for sleep, Dean?"<br />In answer, he jumped up on the bed, turned in a circle, and lay down.<br />"Hey! Wait a minute!" I'd certainly talked myself into that one. Gran would have a fit if she could know a<br />dog was on her bed. Gran had believed animals were fine as long as they spent the night outside. Humans<br />inside, animals outside, had been her rule. Well, now I had a vampire outside and a collie on my bed.<br />I said, "You get down!" and pointed at the rug.<br />The collie, slowly, reluctantly, descended from the bed. He eyed me reproachfully as he sat on the rug.<br />"You stay there," I said sternly and got in the bed. I was very tired, and not nearly so nervous now that<br />the dog was here; though what help I expected him to be in case of an intruder, I didn't know, since he<br />didn't know me well enough to be loyal to me. But I would accept any comfort I could find, and I began<br />to relax into sleep. Just as I was drifting off, I felt the bed indent under the weight of the collie. A narrow<br />tongue gave my cheek a swipe. The dog settled close to me. I turned over and patted him. It was sort of<br />nice having him here.<br />The next thing I knew, it was dawn. I could hear the birds going to town outside, chirping up a storm,<br />and it felt wonderful<br />to be snuggled in bed. I could feel the warmth of the dog through my nightgown; I<br />must have gotten hot during the night and thrown off the sheet. I drowsily patted the animal's head and<br />began to stroke his fur, my fingers running idly through the thick hair. He wriggled even closer, sniffed my<br />face, put his arm around me. Hisarm?<br />Iwas off the bed and shrieking in one move.<br />In my bed, Sam propped himself on his elbows, sunny side up, and looked at me with some amusement.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"Oh, ohmyGod! Sam, how'd you get here? What are you doing? Where's Dean?" I covered my face<br />with my hands and turned my back, but I'd certainly seen all there was to see of Sam.<br />"Woof," said Sam, from a human throat, and the truth stomped over me in combat boots.<br />I whirled back to face him, so angry I felt like I was going to blow a gasket.<br />"You watched me undress last night, you ... you ... damn dog!"<br />"Sookie," he said, persuasively. "Listen to me." Another thought struck me. "Oh, Sam. Bill will kill you."<br />I sat on the slipper chair in the corner by the bathroom door.<br />I put my elbows on my knees and hung my head. "Oh, no," I<br />said. "No, no, no."<br />He was kneeling in front of me. The wirey red-gold hair of his head was duplicated on his chest and<br />trailed in a line down to ... I shut my eyes again.<br />"Sookie, I was worried when Arlene told me you were going to be alone," Sam began.<br />"Didn't she tell you about Bubba?"<br />"Bubba?"<br />"This vampire Bill left watching the house."<br />"Oh. Yeah, she said he reminded her of some singer."<br />"Well, his name is Bubba. He likes to drain animals for fun."<br />I had the satisfaction of seeing (through my fingers) Sam turn pale.<br />"Well, isn't it lucky you let me in, then," he said finally.<br />Suddenly recalled to his guise of the night before, I said, "What are you, Sam?"<br />"I'm a shapeshifter. I thought it was time you knew."<br />"Did you have to do it quite like that?"<br />"Actually," he said, embarrassed, "I had planned on waking<br />up and getting out before you opened your<br />eyes. I just overslept. Running around on all fours kind of tires you out."<br />"I thought people just changed into wolves."<br />"Nope. I can change into anything."<br />I was so interested I dropped my hands and tried to just stare at his face. "How often?" I asked. "Do<br />you get to pick?"<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />"I have to at the full moon," he explained. "Other times, I have to will it; it's harder and it takes longer. I<br />turn into whatever animal I saw before I changed. So I keep a dog book open to a picture of a collie on<br />my coffee table. Collies are big, but nonthreatening."<br />"So, you could be a bird?"<br />"Yeah, but flying is hard. I'm always scared I'm going to get fried on a power line, or fly into a window."<br />"Why? Why did you want me to know?"<br />"You seemed to handle Bill being a vampire really well. In fact, you seemed to enjoy it. So I thought I<br />would see if you could handle my... condition."<br />"But what you are," I said abruptly, off on a mental tangent,<br />"can't be explained by a virus! I mean, you<br />utterly change!"<br />He didn't say anything. He just looked at me, the eyes now blue, but just as intelligent and observant.<br />"Being a shapeshifter is definitely supernatural. If that is, then other things can be. So..." I said, slowly,<br />carefully, "Bill hasn't got a virus at all. Being a vampire, it really can't be explained by an allergy to silver<br />or garlic or sunlight... that's just so much bullshit the vampires are spreading around, propaganda, you<br />might say ... so they can be more easily accepted, as sufferers from a terrible disease. But really<br />they're<br />... they're really ..."<br />I dashed into the bathroom and threw up. Luckily, I made it to the toilet.<br />"Yeah," Sam said from the doorway, his voice sad. "I'msorry, Sookie. But Bill doesn't just have a virus.<br />He's really, really dead."<br />I WASHED MY face and brushed my teeth twice. I sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling too tired<br />to go further. Sam sat beside me. He put his arm around me comfortingly, and after a moment I nestled<br />closer, laying my cheek in the hollow of his neck.<br />"You know, once I was listening to NPR," I said, completely<br />at random. "They were broadcasting a<br />piece about cryogenics, about how lots of people are opting to just freeze their head because it's so much<br />cheaper than getting your whole body frozen." "Ummm?"<br />"Guess what song they played for the closing?"<br />"What, Sookie?"<br />" 'Put Your Head on My Shoulder.' "<br />Sam made a choking noise, then doubled over with laughter.<br />"Listen, Sam," I said, when he'd calmed down. "I hear what you're telling me, but I have to work this out<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />with Bill. I love Bill. I am loyal to him. And he isn't here to give his point of view."<br />"Oh, this isn't about me trying to woo you away from Bill. Though that would be great." And Sam smiled<br />his rare and brilliant smile. He seemed much more relaxed with me now that I knew his secret.<br />"Then what is it about?"<br />"This is about keeping you alive until the murderer is caught."<br />"So that's why you woke up naked in my bed? For my protection?"<br />He had the grace to look ashamed. "Well, maybe I could have planned it better. But I did think you<br />needed someone with you, since Arlene told me Bill was out of town. I knew you wouldn't let me spend<br />the night here as a human."<br />"Will you rest easy now that you know Bubba is watching the house at night?"<br />"Vampires are strong, and ferocious," Sam conceded. "Iguess this Bubba owes Bill something, or he<br />wouldn't be doing him a favor. Vampires aren't big on doing each other favors. They have a lot of<br />structure in their world."<br />I should have paid more attention to what Sam was saying, but I was thinking I'd better not explain<br />about Bubba's origins.<br />"If there's you, and Bill, I guess there must be lots of other things outside of nature," I said, realizing what<br />a treasure trove of thought awaited me. Since I'd met Bill, I hadn't felt so much need to hoard neat things<br />up for future contemplation,<br />but it never hurt to be prepared. "You'll have to tell me sometime." Big<br />Foot? The Loch Ness Monster?I'd always believed in the Loch Ness monster.<br />"Well, I guess I better be getting back home," Sam said. He looked at me hopefully. He was still naked.<br />"Yes, I think you better. But—oh, dang it—you... oh, hell." I stomped upstairs to look for some clothes.<br />It seemed to me Jason had a couple of things in an upstairs closet he kept here for some emergency.<br />Sure enough, there was a pair of blue jeans and a work shirt in the first upstairs bedroom. It was already<br />hot up there, under the tin roof, because the upstairs was on a separate thermostat. I came back down,<br />grateful to feel the cool conditioned<br />air.<br />"Here," I said, handing Sam the clothes. "I hope they fit well enough." He looked as though he wanted to<br />start our conversation back up, but I was too aware now that I was clad in a thin nylon nightgown and he<br />was clad in nothing at all.<br />"On with the clothes," I said firmly. "And you get dressed out in the living room." I shooed him out and<br />shut the door behind him. I thought it would be insulting to lock the door, so I didn't. I did get dressed in<br />record time, pulling on clean underwear and the denim skirt and yellow shirt I'd had on the night before. I<br />dabbed on my makeup, put on some earrings,<br />and brushed my hair up into a ponytail, putting a yellow<br />squnchy over the elastic band. My morale rose as I looked in the mirror. My smile turned into a frown<br />when I thought I heard a truck pulling into the front yard.<br />I came out of the bedroom like I'd been fired from a cannon, hoping like hell Sam was dressed and<br />hiding. He'd done one better. He'd changed back into a dog. The clothes were scattered on the floor,<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />and I swept them up and stuffed them into the closet in the hall.<br />"Good boy!" I said enthusiastically and scratched behind his ears. Dean responded by sticking his cold<br />black nose up my skirt. "Now you cut that out," I said, and looked through the front window. "It's Andy<br />Bellefleur," I told the dog.<br />Andy jumped out of his Dodge Ram, stretched for a long second, and headed for my front door. I<br />opened it, Dean by my side.<br />I eyed Andy quizzically. "You look like you been up all night long, Andy. Can I make you some coffee?"<br />The dog stirred restlessly beside me.<br />'That would begreat," he said. "Can I come in?"<br />"Sure." I stood aside. Dean growled.<br />"You got a good guard dog, there. Here, fella. Come here." Andy squatted to hold out a hand to the<br />collie, whom I simply<br />could not think of as Sam. Dean sniffed Andy's hand, but wouldn't give it a lick.<br />Instead, he kept between me and Andy.<br />"Come on back to the kitchen," I said, and Andy stood and followed me. I had the coffee on in a jiffy<br />and put some bread in the toaster. Assembling the cream and sugar and spoons and mugs took a few<br />more minutes, but then I had to face why Andy was here. His face was drawn; he looked ten years older<br />than I knew him to be. This was no courtesy call.<br />"Sookie, were you here last night? You didn't work?" "No, I didn't. I was here except for a quick trip in<br />to<br />Merlotte's."<br />"Was Bill here any of that time?" "No, he's in New Orleans. He's staying in that new hotel in the French<br />Quarter, the one just for vampires." "You're sure that's where he is."<br />"Yes." I could feel my face tighten. The bad thing was coming.<br />"I've been up all night," Andy said. "Yes."<br />"I've just come from another crime scene."<br />"Yes." I went into his mind. "Amy Burley?" I stared at his eyes, trying to make sure. "Amy who worked<br />at the Good Times Bar?" The name at the top of yesterday's pile of prospective<br />barmaids, the name I'd<br />left for Sam. I looked down at the dog. He lay on the floor with his muzzle between his paws, looking as<br />sad and stunned as I felt. He whined pathetically.<br />Andy's brown eyes were boring a hole in me. "How'd youknow?"<br />"Cut the crap, Andy, you know I can read minds. I feelawful. Poor Amy. Was it like the others?"<br />"Yes," he said. "Yes, it was like the others. But the puncture<br />marks were fresher."<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />1 thought of the night Bill and I had had to go to Shreveport<br />to answer Eric's summons. Had Amy given<br />Bill blood that night? I couldn't even count how many days ago that had been, my schedule had been so<br />thrown off by all the strange and terrible events of the past few weeks.<br />I sat down heavily in a wooden kitchen chair, shaking my head absently for a few minutes, amazed at the<br />turn my lifehad taken.<br />Amy Burley's life had no more turns to take. I shook the odd spell of apathy off, rose and poured the<br />coffee.<br />"Bill hasn't been here since night before last," I said.<br />"And you were here all night?"<br />"Yes, I was. My dog can tell you," and I smiled down at Dean, who whined at being noticed. He came<br />over to lay his fuzzy head on my knees while I drank my coffee. I smoothed<br />his ears.<br />"Did you hear from your brother?"<br />"No, but I got a funny phone call, from someone who said he was at Merlotte's." After the words left my<br />mouth I realized<br />the caller must have been Sam, luring me over to Merlotte's so he could maneuver<br />himself into accompanying me home. Dean yawned, a big jaw-cracking yawn that let us see every one of<br />his white sharp teeth.<br />I wished I'd kept my mouth shut.<br />But now I had to explain the whole thing to Andy, who was slumped only half-awake in my kitchen<br />chair, his plaid shirt wrinkled and blotched with coffee stains, his khakisshapeless through long wear.<br />Andy was longing for bed the way a horse longs for his own stall.<br />"You need to get some rest," I said gently. There was something sad about Andy Bellefleur, something<br />daunted.<br />"It's these murders," he said, his voice unsteady from exhaustion.<br />"These poor women. And they were<br />all the same in so many ways."<br />"Uneducated, blue-collar women who worked in bars? Didn't mind having a vampire lover from time to<br />time?"<br />He nodded, his eyes drooping shut.<br />"Women just like me, in other words."<br />His eyes opened then. He was aghast at his error. "Sookie..."<br />"I understand, Andy," I said. "In some respects, we are all alike, and if you accept the attack on my<br />grandmother as intended for me, well, I guess then I'm the only survivor." I wondered who the murderer<br />had left to kill. Was Ithe only one alive who met his criteria? That was the scariest thought I'd had all day.<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />Andy was practically nodding over his coffee cup. "Why don't you go lie down in the other bedroom?" I<br />suggested quietly. "You have to have some sleep. You're not safe to drive, I wouldn't think."<br />'That's kind of you," Andy said, his voice dragging. He sounded a little surprised, like kindness wasn't<br />something he expected from me. "But I have to get home, set my alarm. I can sleep for maybe three<br />hours."<br />"I promise I'll wake you up," I said. I didn't want Andy sleeping in my house, but I didn't want him to<br />have a wreck on die way to his house, either. Old Mrs. Bellefleur would never forgive me, and probably<br />Portia wouldn't either. "You come lie down in this room." I led him to my old bedroom. My single bed<br />was neatly made up. "You just lie down on top of the bed, and I'll set the alarm." I did, while he watched.<br />"Now, get a little sleep. I have one errand to run, and I'll be right back." Andy didn't offer any more<br />resistance,<br />but sat heavily on the bed even as I shut the door.<br />The dog had been padding after me while I got Andy situated, and now I said to him, in a quite different<br />tone, "You go get dressed rightnow!"<br />Andy stuck his head out the bedroom door. "Sookie, whoare you talking to?"<br />"The dog," I answered instantly. "He always gets his collar,<br />and I put it on every day."<br />"Why do you ever take it off?"<br />"It jingles at night, keeps me up. You go to bed, now."<br />"All right." Looking satisfied at my explanation, Andy<br />shut the door again.<br />I retrieved Jason's clothes from the closet, put them on the couch in front of the dog, and sat with my<br />back turned. But I realized I could see in the mirror over the mantel.<br />The air grew hazy around the collie, seemed to hum and vibrate with energy, and then the form began to<br />change within that electric concentration. When the haze cleared, there was Sam kneeling on the floor,<br />buck-naked. Wow, what a bottom. I had to make myself close my eyes, tell myself repeatedly that I had<br />not been unfaithful to Bill. Bill's butt, I told myself staunchly, was every bit as neat.<br />"I'm ready," Sam's voice said, so close behind me that I jumped. I stood up quickly and turned to face<br />him, and found his face about six inches from mine.<br />"Sookie," he said hopefully, his hand landing on my shoulder,<br />rubbing and caressing it.<br />I was angry because half of me wanted to respond. "Listen here, buddy, you could have told me about<br />yourself<br />any time in the past few years. We've known each other what, four years? Or even more! And<br />yet, Sam, despite the fact that I see you almost daily, you wait until Bill is interested<br />in me, before you<br />even..." and unable to think how to finish, I threw my hands up in the air. Sam drew back, which was a<br />good thing. "I didn't see what was in front of me until I thought it might be taken away," he said, his voice<br />quiet.<br />I had nothing to say to that. 'Time to go home," I told him. "And we better get you there without anyone<br />seeing<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />you. I mean it."<br />This was chancy enough without some mischievous person like Rene seeing Sam in my car in the early<br />morning and drawing wrong conclusions. And passing them on to Bill.<br />So off we went, Sam hunched down in the backseat. Ipulled cautiously behind Merlotte's. There was a<br />truck there; black, with pink and aqua flames down the sides. Jason's. "Uh-oh," I said.<br />"What?" Sam's voice was somewhat muffled by his position.<br />"Let me go look," I said, beginning to be anxious. Why would Jason park over here in the employees'<br />parking area? And it seemed to me there was a shape in the truck.<br />I opened my door. I waited for the sound to alert the figure in the truck. I watched for evidence of<br />movement. When nothing happened, I began to walk across the gravel, as frightened as I'd ever been in<br />the light of day.<br />When I got closer to the window, I could see that the figure inside was Jason. He was slumped behind<br />the wheel. I could see that his shirt was stained, that his chin was resting on his chest, that his hands were<br />limp on the seat on either side of him, that the mark on his handsome face was a long red scratch. I could<br />see a videotape resting on the truck dashboard,<br />unlabelled.<br />"Sam," I said, hating the fear in my voice. "Please come here."<br />Quicker than I could believe, Sam was beside me, then teaching past me to unlatch the truck door.<br />Since the truck had apparently been sitting there for several hours—there was dew on its hood—with the<br />windows closed, in the early summer, the smell that rolled out was pretty strong and compounded<br />of at<br />least three elements: blood, sex, and liquor.<br />"Call the ambulance!" I said urgently as Sam reached in to feel for Jason's pulse. Sam looked at me<br />doubtfully. "Are you sure you want to do that?" he asked.<br />"Of course! He's unconscious!"<br />"Wait, Sookie. Think about this."<br />And I might have reconsidered m just a minute, but at that moment Arlene pulled up in her beat-up blue<br />Ford, and Sam sighed and went into his trailer to phone.<br />I was so naive. That's what comes of being a law-abiding citizen for nearly every day of my life.<br />I rode with Jason to the tiny local hospital, oblivious to the police looking very carefully at Jason's truck,<br />blind to the squad car following the ambulance, totally trusting whenthe emergency room doctor sent me<br />home, telling me he'd call me when Jason regained consciousness. The doctor told me, eyeing me<br />curiously, that Jason was apparently sleeping off the effects of alcohol or drugs. But Jason had never<br />drunk that much before, and Jason didn't use drugs: our cousin Hadley's descent into the life of the streets<br />had made a profound<br />impression on both of us. I told the doctor all that, and he listened, and he shooed<br />me off.<br />Not knowing what to think, I went home to find that Andy Bellefleur had been roused by his pager. He'd<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />left me a note telling me that, and nothing else. Later on, I found that he'd actually been in the hospital<br />while I was there, and waited until I was gone out of consideration for me before he'd handcuffed Jason<br />to the bed.<br />Chapter 12<br />SAM CAME TO give me the news about eleven o'clock. "They're going to arrest Jason as soon as he<br />comes to, Sookie, which looks like being soon." Sam didn't tell me how he came to know this, and I<br />didn't ask.<br />I stared at him, tears running down my face. Any other day, I might have thought of how plain I look<br />when I cry, but today was not a day I cared about my outsides. I was all in a knot, frightened for Jason,<br />sad about Amy Burley, full of anger the police were making such a stupid mistake, and underneath it all,<br />missing my Bill.<br />"They think it looks like Amy Burley put up a fight. They think he got drunk after he killed her."<br />"Thanks, Sam, for warning me." My voice came from way faraway. "You better go to work, now."<br />After Sam had seen that I needed to be alone, I called information and got the number of Blood in the<br />Quarter. I punched in the numbers, feeling somehow I was doing a bad thing, but I couldn't think how or<br />why.<br />"Bloooooood ... in the Quarter," announced a deep voice dramatically. "Your coffin away from home."<br />Geez. "Good morning. This is Sookie Stackhouse calling from Bon Temps," I said politely. "I need to<br />leave a message for Bill Compton. He's a guest there."<br />"Fang or human?" "Ah ... fang." "Just one minute, please."<br />The deep voice came back on the line after a moment "What is the message, madam?" That gave me<br />pause.<br />"Please tell Mr. Compton that... my brother has been arrested,<br />and I would appreciate it if he could<br />come home as soon as his business is completed."<br />"I have that down." The sound of scribbling. "And your name again?"<br />"Stackhouse. Sookie Stackhouse." "All right, miss. I'll see to it that he gets your message." "Thanks."<br />And that was the only action I could think of to take, until I realized it would be much more practical to<br />call Sid Matt Lancaster. He did his best to sound appalled to hear Jason was going to be arrested, said<br />he'd hurry over to the hospital as soon as he got out of court that afternoon, and that he'd report back to<br />Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />me.<br />I drove back to the hospital to see if they'd let me sit with Jason until he became conscious. They<br />wouldn't. I wondered if he was already conscious, and they weren't telling me. I saw Andy Bellefleur at<br />the other end of the hall, and he turned and walked the other way. Damn coward.<br />I went home because I couldn't think of anything to do. I realized it wasn't a workday for me anyway,<br />and that was a good thing, though I didn't really care too much at that point. It occurred to me that I<br />wasn't handling this as well as I ought, that I had been much steadier when Gran had died.<br />But that had been a finite situation. We would bury Gran, her killer would be arrested, we would go on.<br />If the police seriously believed that Jason had killed Gran in addition to the other women, then the world<br />was such a bad and chancy place that I wanted no part of it.<br />But I realized, as I sat and looked in front of me that long, long afternoon, that it was naivete like that<br />that had led to Jason's arrest. If I'd just