Jason and I gaped at each other. Actually, there was no connection between Jason and Eric. It just hadn't occurred to me how strange that would look.
"What vampire?" Jason asked. It was so good, I almost believed him myself.
"Let's leave, Alcee," Andy said. He slapped his notebook shut. He put his pen back in his shirt pocket with such an emphatic thrust that I was surprised he had a pocket left. "This bastard won't even tell us the truth."
"Don't you think I'd tell you if I could?" Jason said. "Don't you think I'd like to lay hands on whoever did this to me?" He sounded absolutely, one hundred percent sincere, because he was. The two detectives were shaken in their disbelief, especially Alcee Beck. But they still left unhappy with the two of us. I felt sorry for it, but there was nothing I could do.
Later that day, Arlene picked me up so I could fetch my car from Merlotte's. She was happy to see Jason, and she gave him a big hug. "You had your sister some kind of worried, you rascal," she said, with mock ferocity. "Don't you ever scare Sookie like that again."
"I'll do my best," Jason said, with a good approximation of his old roguish smile. "She's been a good sister to me."
"Now, that's God's truth," I said, a little sourly. "When I bring my car back, I think I might just run you home, big brother."
Jason looked scared for a minute. Being alone had never been his favorite thing, and after hours by himself in the cold of the shed, it might be even harder.
"I bet girls all over Bon Temps are making food to bring to your place now that they heard you're back," Arlene said, and Jason brightened perceptibly. "'Specially since I've been telling everyone what an invalid you are."
"Thanks, Arlene," Jason said, looking much more like himself.
I echoed that on the way into town. "I really appreciate you cheering him up. I don't know what all he went through, but he's going to have a rough time getting over it, I think."
"Honey, you don't need to worry about Jason. He's the original survivor. I don't know why he didn't try out for the show."
We laughed all the way into town at the idea of staging a Survivor episode in Bon Temps.
"What with the razorbacks in the woods, and that panther print, they might have an exciting time of it if we had Survivor: Bon Temps," Arlene said. "Tack and me would just sit back and laugh at them."
That gave me a nice opening to tease her about Tack, which she enjoyed, and altogether she cheered up me just as much as Jason. Arlene was good about stuff like that. I had a brief conversation with Sam in the storeroom of Merlotte's, and he told me Andy and Alcee had already been by to see if his story meshed with mine.
He hushed me before I could thank him again.
I took Jason home, though he hinted broadly he'd like to stay with me one more night. I took the Benelli with us, and I told him to clean it that evening. He promised he would, and when he looked at me, I could tell he wanted to ask me again why I'd had to use it. But he didn't. Jason had learned some things in the past few days, himself.
I was working the late shift again, so I would have a little time on my hands when I got home before I had to go in to work. The prospect felt good. I didn't see any running men on my way back to my house, and no one phoned or popped in with a crisis for a whole two hours. I was able to change the sheets on both beds, wash them, and sweep the kitchen and straighten up the closet concealing the hidey-hole, before the knock came at the front door.
I knew who it would be. It was full dark outside, and sure enough, Eric stood on my front porch.
He looked down at me with no very happy face. "I find myself troubled," he said without preamble.
"Then I've got to drop everything so I can help you out," I said, going instantly on the offensive.
He cocked an eyebrow. "I'll be polite and ask if I can come in." I hadn't rescinded his invitation, but he didn't want to just stroll into my house. Tactful.
"Yes, you can." I stepped back.
"Hallow is dead, having been forced to counter the curse on me, obviously."
"Pam did a good job."
He nodded. "It was Hallow or me," he said. "I like me better."
"Why'd she pick Shreveport?"
"Her parents were jailed in Shreveport. They were witches, too, but they also ran confidence games of some kind, using their craft to make their victims more convinced of their sincerity. In Shreveport, their luck ran out. The supernatural community refused to make any effort to get the older Stonebrooks out of jail. The woman ran afoul of a voodoo priestess while she was incarcerated, and the man ran afoul of a knife in some bathroom brawl."
"Pretty good reason to have it in for the supernaturals of Shreveport."
"They say I was here for several nights." Eric had decided to change the subject.
"Yes," I said. I tried to look agreeably interested in what he had to say.
"And in that time, we never . . . ?"
I didn't pretend to misunderstand him.
"Eric, does that seem likely?" I asked.
He hadn't sat down, and he moved closer to me, as if looking at me hard would reveal the truth. It would have been easy to take a step, be even closer.
"I just don't know," he said. "And it's making me a little aggravated."
I smiled. "Are you enjoying being back at work?"
"Yes. But Pam ran everything well during my absence. I'm sending lots of flowers to the hospital. Belinda, and a wolf named Maria-Comet or something."
"Maria-Star Cooper. You didn't send any to me," I pointed out tartly.
"No, but I left you something more meaningful under the saltshaker," he said, with much the same edge. "You'll have to pay taxes on it. If I know you, you'll give your brother some of it. I hear you got him back."
"I did," I said briefly. I knew I was getting closer to bursting out with something, and I knew he should leave soon. I'd given Jason such good advice about being quiet, but it was hard to follow it myself. "And your point is?"
"It won't last for long."
I don't think Eric realized how much money fifty thousand dollars was, by my standards. "What's your point? I can tell you have one, but I don't have an idea what it might be."
"Was there a reason I found brain tissue on my coat sleeve?"
I felt all the blood drain from my face, the way it does when you're on the edge of passing out. The next thing I knew, I was on the couch and Eric was beside me.
"I think there are some things you're not telling me, Sookie, my dear," he said. His voice was gentler, though.
The temptation was almost overwhelming.
But I thought of the power Eric would have over me, even more power than he had now; he would know I had slept with him, and he would know that I had killed a woman and he was the only one who'd witnessed it. He would know that not only did he owe me his life (most likely), I certainly owed him mine.
"I liked you a lot better when you didn't remember who you were," I said, and with that truth forefront in my mind, I knew I had to keep quiet.
"Harsh words," he said, and I almost believed he was really hurt.
Luckily for me, someone else came to my door. The knock was loud and peremptory, and I felt a jolt of alarm.
The caller was Amanda, the insulting redheaded female Were from Shreveport. "I'm on official business today," she said, "so I'll be polite."
That would be a nice change.
She nodded to Eric and said, "Glad to have you back in your right mind, vampire," in a completely unconcerned tone. I could see that the Weres and vampires of Shreveport had reverted to their old relationship.
"And good to see you, too, Amanda." I said.
"Sure," she said, but hardly as if she cared. "Miss Stackhouse, we're making inquiries for the shifters of Jackson."
Oh, no. "Really? Won't you please sit down? Eric was just leaving."
"No, I'd love to stay and hear Amanda's questions," Eric said, beaming.
Amanda looked at me, eyebrows raised.
There wasn't a hell
of a lot I could do about it.
"Oh, by all means, stay," I said. "Please sit down, both of you. I'm sorry, but I don't have a lot of time before I'm due at work."
"Then I'll get right to the point," Amanda said. "Two nights ago, the woman that Alcide abjured—the shifter from Jackson, the one with the weird haircut?"
I nodded, to show I was on the same page. Eric looked pleasantly blank. He wouldn't in a minute.
"Debbie," the Were recalled. "Debbie Pelt."
Eric's eyes widened. Now, that name he did know. He began to smile.
"Alcide abjured her?" he said.
"You were sitting right there," snapped Amanda. "Oh, wait, I forgot. That was while you were under a curse."
She enjoyed the hell out of saying that.
"Anyway, Debbie didn't make it back to Jackson. Her family is worried about her, especially since they heard that Alcide abjured her, and they're afraid something might have happened to her."
"Why do you think she would have said anything to me?"
Amanda made a face. "Well, actually, I think she would rather have eaten glass than talked to you again. But we're obliged to check with everyone who was there."
So this was just routine. I wasn't being singled out. I could feel myself relax. Unfortunately, so could Eric. I'd had his blood; he could tell things about me. He got up and wandered back to the kitchen. I wondered what he was doing.
"I haven't seen her since that night," I said, which was true, since I didn't specify what time. "I have no idea where she is now." That was even truer.
Amanda told me, "No one admits to having seen Debbie after she left the area of the battle. She drove off in her own car."
Eric strolled back into the living room. I glanced at him, worried about what he was up to.
"Has her car been seen?" Eric asked.
He didn't know he'd been the one who'd hidden it.
"No, neither hide nor hair," Amanda said, which was a strange image to use for a car. "I'm sure she just ran off somewhere to get over her rage and humiliation. Being abjured; that's pretty awful. It's been years since I've heard the words said."
"Her family doesn't think that's the case? That's she's gone somewhere to, ah, think things over?"
"They're afraid she's done something to herself." Amanda snorted. We exchanged glances, showing we agreed perfectly about the likelihood of Debbie committing suicide. "She wouldn't do anything that convenient," Amanda said, since she had the nerve to say it out loud and I didn't.
"How's Alcide taking this?" I asked anxiously.
"He can hardly join in the search," she pointed out, "since he's the one who abjured her. He acts like he doesn't care, but I notice the colonel calls him to let him know what's happening. Which, so far, is nothing." Amanda heaved herself to her feet, and I got up to walk her to the door. "This sure has been a bad season for people going missing," she said. "But I hear through the grapevine that you got your brother back, and Eric's returned to his normal self, looks like." She cast him a glance to make sure he knew how little she liked that normal self. "Now Debbie has gone missing, but maybe she'll turn up, too. Sorry I had to bother you."
"That's all right. Good luck," I said, which was meaningless under the circumstances. The door closed behind her, and I wished desperately that I could just walk out and get in my car and drive to work.
I made myself turn around. Eric was standing.
"You're going?" I said, unable to keep from sounding startled and relieved.
"Yes, you said you had to get to work," he said blandly.
"I do."
"I suggest you wear that jacket, the one that's too light for the weather," he said. "Since your coat is still in bad shape."
I'd run it through the washer on cold water wash, but I guess I hadn't checked it well enough to be sure everything had come off. That's where he'd been, searching for my coat. He'd found it on its hanger on the back porch, and examined it.
"In fact," Eric said, as he went to the front door, "I'd throw it away entirely. Maybe burn it."
He left, closing the door behind him very quietly.
I knew, as sure as I knew my name, that tomorrow he would send me another coat, in a big fancy box, with a big bow on it. It would be the right size, it would be a top brand, and it would be warm.
It was cranberry red, with a removable liner, a detachable hood, and tortoiseshell buttons.
Afterword
Dear Reader,
In case you haven't met me before, my name is Sookie Stackhouse. I've been working at Merlotte's Bar for four years now. For the first three, things were quiet. Then, one night, Bill the Vampire walked in, and my life changed forever. While we've followed the familiar pattern (vampire meets girl, vampire gets girl, vampire loses girl), I have a feeling our association has more twists and turns yet to come.
In the first month I knew Bill, there was a serial killer in the area hunting down barmaids with vampire boyfriends—and the main suspect was my brother Jason (Dead Until Dark).
Then, at the beginning of fall, the vampires of Dallas asked the vampires of Shreveport if they could borrow me for a little investigation into a missing nestmate of theirs (Living Dead in Dallas). At the same time, the short-order cook at Merlotte's was murdered, and since I counted myself his friend, I felt I should do everything I could to solve the mystery of his death. Bill's boss, Eric, had a lot to do with my trip to Big D, and he developed an interest in me that hasn't flagged.
Right before Christmas, I began to think Bill was engaged in some hanky-panky. He left town, and vanished in Mississippi. Eric talked me into going to Jackson to search for him. As my cover, I was escorted by the Werewolf Alcide Herveaux. While searching for Bill, I met some of the state's less reputable citizens at the supernatural hangout in Jackson, called Club Dead.
That brings me up to the start of Dead to the World.
And now that I'm pretty much mad at everyone, and Jason might be a Shifter at the next full moon, what's going to happen next?
The way my life's been going since Bill Compton came into Merlotte's, there just no telling.
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Document ID: 1acfee0e-03ad-422d-9a26-0eff568b568c
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1.0 – scanned, formatted, and spell-checked from the hardcover.
2.0 – July 14, 2004 – The_Ghiti – proofed in detail against deadtree format. Yes, Charlaine Harris really combines two words into one word — all the time (toolshed, stepdad, overinquire & etc.). I left these "as is." And yes, the first couple of pages of the book really just start without any chapter headings or "Prologue" or anything similar. If you find errors, please increment by 0.1 and re-post.
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