Sookie Stackhouse 8-copy Boxed Set (230 page)

Maybe he’d hired the wrong people. Maybe he’d omitted some vital step in protecting the guests of the hotel. Maybe—I was distracted by a wave of warmth.

Eric was coming.

I’d never had such a clear sense of his presence, and my heart sank as I knew the blood exchange had been an important one. If my memory was clear, it was the third time I’d taken Eric’s blood, and three is always a significant number. I felt a constant awareness of his presence when he was anywhere near me, and I had to believe it was the same for him. There might be even more to the tie now, more that I just hadn’t experienced yet. I closed my eyes and leaned over to rest my forehead on my knees.

There was a knock at the door, and Sigebert answered it after a careful look through the peephole. He admitted Eric. I could scarcely bring myself to look at him or to give him a casual greeting. I should be grateful to Eric, and I knew it; and on one level I was. Sucking blood from Andre would have been intolerable. Scratch that: I would’ve had to tolerate it. It would have been disgusting. But exchanging blood at all had not been a choice I got to make, and I wasn’t going to forget it.

Eric sat on the couch beside me. I jumped up as if I’d been poked by a cattle prod and went across the room to the bar to pour myself a glass of water. No matter where I went, I could feel Eric’s presence; to make that even more unsettling, I found his nearness was somehow comforting, as if it made me more secure.

Oh, just
great.

There wasn’t anywhere else for me to sit. I settled miserably by the Viking, who now owned a piece of me. Before this night, when I’d seen Eric, I’d felt simply a casual pleasure—though I had thought of him perhaps more often than a woman ought to think about a man who would outlive her for centuries.

I reminded myself that this was not Eric’s fault. Eric might be political, and he might be focused on looking out for number one (which was spelled E-R-I-C), but I didn’t see how he could have surmised Andre’s purpose and caught up with us to reason with Andre, with any degree of premeditation. So I owed Eric a big thank-you, no matter how you looked at it, but that wasn’t going to be a conversation we had anywhere in the vicinity of the queen and the aforesaid Andre.

“Bill is still selling his little computer disk downstairs,” Eric remarked to me.

“So?”

“I thought perhaps you were wondering why I showed up when you were in dire straits, and he didn’t.”

“It never crossed my mind,” I said, wondering why Eric was bringing this up.

“I made him stay downstairs,” Eric said. “After all, I’m his area sheriff.”

I shrugged.

“He wanted to hit me,” Eric said with only the hint of a smile on his lips. “He wanted to take the bomb from you and be your hero. Quinn would have done that, too.”

“I remember that Quinn offered,” I said.

“I did, too,” Eric said. He seemed a bit shocked at the fact.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, and I hoped my tone made it clear I was serious. It was getting close to dawn, and I’d had a stressful night (which was the mildest way I could put it). I managed to catch Andre’s eye and give him the tiny nod toward Todd Donati. I was trying to clue him in that Donati was not entirely okay. In fact, he was as gray as a snow sky.

“If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Donati. . . . We’ve enjoyed your company, but we have much to discuss about our plans for tomorrow night,” Andre said smoothly, and Donati tensed, since he knew quite well he’d been dismissed.

“Of course, Mr. Andre,” the security chief said. “I hope all of you sleep well this day, and I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He rose to his feet with a lot more effort than it should have taken, and he suppressed a flinch at the pain. “Miss Stackhouse, I hope you get over your bad experience real soon.”

“Thank you,” I said, and Sigebert opened the door for Donati to leave.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said the minute he was gone, “I’ll just go to my room now.”

The queen gave me a sharp look. “Are you unhappy about something, Sookie?” she said, though she sounded like she didn’t really want to hear my answer.

“Oh, why would I be unhappy? I
love
having things done to me without my will,” I said. The pressure had built up and up, and the words came out like lava erupting from a volcano, even though my more intelligent self kept telling me to put a plug in it. “And then,” I said very loudly, not listening to myself one little bit, “I like hanging around the ones responsible. That’s
even better
!” I was losing coherence and gaining momentum.

There was no telling what I would have said next if Sophie-Anne hadn’t held up one little white hand. She seemed a weensy bit perturbed, as my grandmother would have put it.

“You are assuming I know what you are talking about, and that I want to hear a human yelling at me,” Sophie-Anne said.

Eric’s eyes were glowing as if a candle burned behind them, and he was so lovely I could have drowned in him. God help me. I made myself look at Andre, who was examining me as if he was deciding where the best cut of meat was. Gervaise and Cleo just looked interested.

“Excuse me,” I said, returning to the world of reality with a thud. It was so late, and I was so tired, and the night had been filled with so many incidents that I thought for a split second that I might actually faint. But the Stackhouses don’t produce fainters, and neither do the fairies, I guess. It was time I gave a nod to that little percentage of my heritage. “I’m very tired.” I had no fight left in me all of a sudden. I really wanted to go to bed. Not a word was spoken as I trudged to the door, which was almost a miracle. Though, as I closed it behind me, I heard the queen say, “Explain, Andre.”

Quinn was waiting by the door to my room. I didn’t know if I even had the energy to be glad or sad to see him. I got out the plastic rectangle and opened the door, and after I’d scanned the interior and seen that my roommate was gone (though I wondered where, since Gervaise had been by himself ), I jerked my head to tell Quinn he could come in.

“I have an idea,” he said quietly.

I raised my eyebrows, too exhausted to speak.

“Let’s just climb in the bed and sleep.”

I finally managed to smile at him. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day,” I said. At that second, I saw how I could come to love Quinn. While he visited the bathroom, I pulled off my clothes, folded them, and slipped into my pajamas, short and pink and silky to the touch.

Quinn came out of the bathroom in his briefs, but I was just too worn out to appreciate the view. He got into the bed while I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I slid in beside him. He turned on his side and his arms opened, and I just kept on sliding right into them. We hadn’t showered, but he smelled good to me: he smelled alive and vital.

“Good ceremony tonight,” I remembered to say after I’d switched off the bedside lamp.

“Thanks.”

“Got any more coming up?”

“Yeah, if your queen goes on trial. Now that Cater was killed, who knows if that’s still on. And tomorrow night is the ball, after the trial.”

“Oh, I get to wear my pretty dress.” A little pleasure stirred in me at the prospect. “You got to work?”

“No, the ball’s being run by the hotel,” he said. “You gonna dance with me or the blond vampire?”

“Oh, hell,” I said, wishing Quinn hadn’t reminded me.

And right on cue, he said, “Forget it now, babe. We’re here, now, in bed together like we ought to be.”

Like we ought to be. That sounded good.

“You heard about me tonight, right?” he asked.

The night had contained so many incidents it took me a moment to remember that I’d learned about the things he’d had to do to survive.

And that he had a half sister. A troublesome, nutty, dependent half sister who hated me on sight.

He was a little tense, waiting for my reaction. I could feel it in his head, in his body. I tried to think of a sweet, wonderful way to put how I felt. I was too tired.

“Quinn, I’ve got no problem with you,” I said. I kissed his cheek, kissed his mouth. “No problem at all. And I’ll try to like Frannie.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding simply relieved. “Well, then.” He kissed my forehead, and we fell asleep.

I slept like a vampire. I didn’t wake to make a trip to the bathroom, even, or to turn over. I swam almost up to consciousness once to hear Quinn was snoring, just a faint ruffle of sound, and I snuggled closer to him. He stopped, murmured, and fell silent.

I looked at the bedside clock when I finally, really, woke up. It was four in the afternoon; I’d slept for twelve hours. Quinn was gone, but he’d drawn a big pair of lips (with my lipstick) on a piece of hotel stationery and laid it on his pillow. I smiled. My roommate hadn’t come in. Maybe she was spending the day in Gervaise’s coffin. I shuddered. “He leaves
me
cold,” I said out loud, wishing Amelia was there to respond. Speaking of Amelia . . . I fished my cell phone out of my purse and called her.

“Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing?” I asked, trying not to feel home-sick.

“Brushing Bob,” she said. “He had a hair ball.”

“Aside from that?”

“Oh, I worked at the bar a little,” Amelia said, trying to sound casual.

I was dumbfounded. “Doing what?”

“Well, serving drinks. What else is there to do?”

“How come Sam needed you?”

“The Fellowship is having a big rally in Dallas, and Arlene wanted time off to go with that asshole she’s dating. Then Danielle’s kid got pneumonia. So Sam was really worried, and since I happened to be in the bar, he asked me if I knew how to do the job. I said, ‘Hey, how hard could it be?’ ”

“Thanks, Amelia.”

“Oh, okay, I guess that sounded pretty disrespectful.” Amelia laughed. “So, it is a little tricky. Everyone wants to talk to you, but you have to hurry, and you can’t spill their drinks on ’em, and you have to remember what everyone was drinking, and who’s paying for the round, and who’s on a tab. And you have to stand up for hours and hours.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“So, how’s Mr. Stripes?”

I realized she was talking about Quinn. “We’re okay,” I said, pretty sure that was true. “He did one big ceremony last night; it was so cool. A vampire wedding. You would’ve loved it.”

“What’s on for tonight?”

“Well, maybe a trial.” I didn’t feel like explaining, especially over a cell phone. “And a ball.”

“Wow, like Cinderella.”

“Remains to be seen.”

“How’s the business part of it going?”

“I’ll have to tell you about that when I get back,” I said, suddenly not so cheerful. “I’m glad you’re busy and I’m glad everything’s going okay.”

“Oh, Terry Bellefleur called to ask if you wanted a puppy. You remember when Annie got out?”

Annie was Terry’s very expensive and much-loved Catahoula. He’d come out to my place looking for Annie when she’d roamed away, and by the time he’d found her, she had had some close encounters.

“What do the puppies look like?”

“He said you had to see them to believe them. I told him you’d come by next week, maybe. I didn’t commit you to anything.”

“Okay, good.”

We chatted a minute more but since I’d been gone from Bon Temps less than forty-eight hours, there really wasn’t that much to say.

“So,” she said in closing, “I miss you, Stackhouse.”

“Yeah? I miss you, too, Broadway.”

“Bye. Don’t get any strange fangs on you.”

Too late for that. “Bye. Don’t spill any beer on the sheriff.”

“If I do, it’ll be on purpose.”

I laughed, because I’d felt like dousing Bud Dearborn, too. I hung up feeling pretty good. I ordered room service, very tentatively. That was not something I got to do every day; even every year. Or ever. I was a little nervous about letting the waiter into my room, but Carla wandered in at just the same moment. She was decorated with hickeys and wearing last night’s dress.

“That smells good,” she said, and I handed her a croissant. She drank my orange juice while I had the coffee. It worked out okay. Carla did the talking for both of us, telling me all about the things I’d experienced. She didn’t seem to realize I’d been with the queen when the slaughter of Jennifer Cater’s group was discovered, and though she’d heard I’d found the Dr Pepper bomb, she told me all about it anyway, as though I hadn’t been there. Maybe Gervaise made her keep silent, and the words just built up.

“What are you wearing to the ball tonight?” I asked, feeling impossibly hokey to even be asking such a question. She showed me her dress, which was black, spangled, and almost nonexistent above the waist, like all her other evening wear. Carla definitely believed in emphasizing her assets.

She asked to see my dress, and we both made insincere noises about what good taste the other had.

We had to take turns in the bathroom, of course, which I wasn’t used to doing. I was pretty exasperated by the time Carla emerged. I hoped the entire city hadn’t run out of hot water. Of course, there was plenty left, and despite the scattering of her cosmetics on the bathroom counter, I managed to get clean and get made-up on time. In honor of my beautiful dress, I tried to put my hair up, but I’m no good with anything more complex than a ponytail. The hair would be down. I went a little heavier on the makeup than I do in the daytime, and I had some big earrings that Tara had told me were just right. I turned my head experimentally and watched them swing and glitter. They were silvery and white, just like the beading on the bodice of my evening dress.
Which it is now time to put on,
I told myself with a little jolt of anticipation.

Oh, boy. My dress was ice blue, and had silver and white beads, and was cut just the right depth in the front and back. It had a built-in bra so I didn’t have to wear one, and I pulled on some blue panties that would never leave a line on me. Then thigh-high hose. Then my shoes, which were high heeled and silvery.