Sookie Stackhouse 8-copy Boxed Set (87 page)

Ray Don gave me a dubious look, and I realized I’d just shot out of his comfort zone, conversationally. Maybe I could give Ray Don a Word of the Day calendar, like Arlene gave me every Christmas.

“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, Sookie,” Eric said. “You know, when we start to feed and our fangs come out, they release a little anticoagulant?”

“Um-hum.”

“And when we are ready to finish feeding, the fangs release a little coagulant and a little trace of the, the—”

“Stuff that helps you all heal so fast?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“So, Ray Don is going to what?”

“Ray Don, his nest mates say, has an extra supply of all these chemicals in his body. This is his talent.”

Ray Don beamed at me. He was proud of that.

“So he will start the process on a volunteer, and when he has fed, he will begin cleaning your wound and healing it.”

What Eric had left out of this narrative was that at some point during this process, the stake was going to have to come out, and that no drug in the world could keep that from hurting like a son of a bitch. I realized that in one of my few moments of clarity.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get the show on the road.”

The volunteer turned out to be a thin blond human teenager, who was no taller than me and probably no wider in the shoulders. He seemed to be quite willing. Ray Don gave him a big kiss before he bit him, which I could have done without, since I’m not into public displays of carnal affection. (When I say “big,” I don’t mean a loud smack, but the intense, moaning, tonsil-sucking kind.) When that was done, to both their satisfactions, Blondie inclined his head to one side, and the taller Ray Don sank his fangs in. There was much cleaving, and much panting—and even to drug-addled me, Ray Don’s vinyl pants didn’t leave enough to the imagination.

Eric watched without apparent reaction. Vampires seem, as a whole, to be extremely tolerant of any sexual preference; I guess there aren’t that many taboos when you’ve been alive a few hundred years.

When Ray Don drew back from Blondie and turned to face the bed, he had a bloody mouth. My euphoria evaporated as Eric instantly sat on the bed and pinned my shoulders. The Big Bad Thing was coming.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “Look at me, Sookie.”

I felt the bed indent, and I assumed Ray Don was kneeling beside it and leaning over to my wound.

There was a jar in the torn flesh of my side that jolted me down to the marrow of my bones. I felt the blood leave my face and felt hysteria bubbling up my throat like my blood was leaving the wound.

“Don’t, Sookie! Look at me!” Eric said urgently.

I looked down to see that Ray Don had grabbed the stake.

Next he would . . .

I screamed over and over, until I didn’t have the energy. I met Eric’s eyes as I felt Ray Don’s mouth sucking at the wound. Eric was holding my hands, and I was digging my nails into him like we were doing something else. He won’t mind, I thought, as I realized I’d drawn blood.

And sure enough, he didn’t. “Let go,” he advised me, and I loosened my grip on his hands. “No, not of me,” he said, smiling. “You can hold on to me as long as you want. Let go of the pain, Sookie. Let go. You need to drift away.”

It was the first time I had relinquished my will to someone else. As I looked at him, it became easy, and I retreated from the suffering and uncertainty of this strange place.

The next thing I knew, I was awake. I was tucked in the bed, lying on my back, my formerly beautiful dress removed. I was still wearing my beige lace underwear, which was good. Eric was in the bed with me, which was not. He was really making a habit of this. He was lying on his side, his arm draped over me, one leg thrown over mine. His hair was tangled with my hair, and the strands were almost indistinguishable, the color was so similar. I contemplated that for a while, in a sort of misty, drifting state.

Eric was having downtime. He was in that absolutely immobile state into which vampires retreat when they have nothing else to do. It refreshes them, I think, reduces the wear and tear of the world that ceaselessly passes them by, year after year, full of war and famine and inventions that they must learn how to master, changing mores and conventions and styles that they must adopt in order to fit in. I pulled down the covers to check out my side. I was still in pain, but it was greatly reduced. There was a large circle of scar tissue on the site of the wound. It was hot and shiny and red and somehow glossy.

“It’s much better,” Eric said, and I gasped. I hadn’t felt him rouse from his suspended animation.

Eric was wearing silk boxers. I would have figured him for a Jockey man.

“Thank you, Eric.” I didn’t care for how shaky I sounded, but an obligation is an obligation.

“For what?” His hand gently stroked my stomach.

“For standing by me in the club. For coming here with me. For not leaving me alone with all these people.”

“How grateful are you?” he whispered, his mouth hovering over mine. His eyes were very alert now, and his gaze was boring into mine.

“That kind of ruins it, when you say something like that,” I said, trying to keep my voice gentle. “You shouldn’t want me to have sex with you just because I owe you.”

“I don’t really care why you have sex with me, as long as you do it,” he said, equally gently. His mouth was on mine then. Try as I might to stay detached, I wasn’t too successful. For one thing, Eric had had hundreds of years to practice his kissing technique, and he’d used them to good advantage. I snuck my hands up to his shoulders, and I am ashamed to say I responded. As sore and tired as my body was, it wanted what it wanted, and my mind and will were running far behind. Eric seemed to have six hands, and they were everywhere, encouraging my body to have its way. A finger slid under the elastic of my (minimal) panties, and glided right into me.

I made a noise, and it was not a noise of rejection. The finger began moving in a wonderful rhythm. Eric’s mouth seemed bent on sucking my tongue down his throat. My hands were enjoying the smooth skin and the muscles that worked underneath it.

Then the window flew open, and Bubba crawled in.

“Miss Sookie! Mr. Eric! I tracked you down!” Bubba was proud.

“Oh, good for you, Bubba,” Eric said, ending the kiss. I clamped my hand on his wrist, and pulled his hand away. He allowed me to do it. I am nowhere near as strong as the weakest vampire.

“Bubba, have you been here the whole time? Here in Jackson?” I asked, once I had some wits in my head. It was a good thing Bubba had come in, though Eric didn’t think so.

“Mr. Eric told me to stick with you,” Bubba said simply. He settled into a low chair tastefully upholstered in flowered material. He had a dark lock of hair falling over his forehead, and he was wearing a gold ring on every finger. “You get hurt bad at that club, Miss Sookie?”

“It’s a lot better now,” I said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do my job, but that little critter guarding the door wouldn’t let me in. He didn’t seem to know who I was, if you can believe that.”

Since Bubba himself hardly remembered who he was, and had a real fit when he did, maybe it wasn’t too surprising that a goblin wouldn’t be current on American popular music.

“But I saw Mr. Eric carrying you out, so I followed you.”

“Thank you, Bubba. That was real smart.”

He smiled, in a slack and dim sort of way. “Miss Sookie, what you doing in bed with Mr. Eric if Bill is your boyfriend?”

“That’s a real good question, Bubba,” I said. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t do it. I made a little pain sound, and Eric cursed in another language.

“I am going to give her blood, Bubba,” Eric said. “Let me tell you what I need you to do.”

“Sure,” Bubba said agreeably.

“Since you got over the wall and into the house without being caught, I need you to search this estate. We think Bill is here somewhere. They are keeping him prisoner. Don’t try to free him. This is an order. Come back here and tell us when you have found him. If they see you, don’t run. Just don’t say anything. Nothing. Not about me, or Sookie, or Bill. Nothing more than, ‘Hi, my name is Bubba.’ ”

“Hi, my name is Bubba.”

“Right.”

“Hi, my name is Bubba.”

“Yes. That’s fine. Now, you sneak, and you be quiet and invisible.”

Bubba smiled at us. “Yes, Mr. Eric. But after that, I gotta go find me some food. I’m mighty hungry.”

“Okay, Bubba. Go search now.”

Bubba scrambled back out the window, which was on the second story. I wondered how he was going to get to the ground, but if he’d gotten into the window, I was sure he could get out of it.

“Sookie,” Eric said, right in my ear. “We could have a long argument about you taking my blood, and I know everything you would say. But the fact is, dawn is coming. I don’t know if you will be allowed to stay the day here or not. I will have to find shelter, here or elsewhere. I want you strong and able to defend yourself; at least able to move quickly.”

“I know Bill is here,” I said, after I’d thought this over for a moment. “And no matter what we almost just did—thank God for Bubba—I need to find Bill. The best time to get him out of here would be while all you vampires are asleep. Can he move at all during the daytime?”

“If he knows he is in great danger, he may be able to stagger,” Eric said, slowly and thoughtfully. “Now I am even more sure you will need my blood, because you need strength. He will need to be covered thoroughly. You will need to take the blanket off this bed; it’s thick. How will you get him out of here?”

“That’s where you come in,” I said. “After we do this blood thing, you need to go get me a car—a car with a great big trunk, like a Lincoln or a Caddy. And you need to get the keys to me. And you’ll need to sleep somewhere else. You don’t want to be here when they wake up and find their prisoner is gone.” Eric’s hand was resting quietly on my stomach, and we were still wrapped up together in the bedding. But the situation felt completely different.

“Sookie, where will you take him?”

“An underground place,” I said uncertainly. “Hey, maybe Alcide’s parking garage! That’s better than being out in the open.”

Eric sat up against the headboard. The silk boxers were royal blue. He spread his legs and I could see up the leg hole. Oh, Lord. I had to close my eyes. He laughed.

“Sit up with your back against my chest, Sookie. That will make you more comfortable.”

He carefully eased me up against him, my back to his chest, and wrapped his arms around me. It was like leaning against a firm, cool, pillow. His right arm vanished, and I heard a little crunch sound. Then his wrist appeared in front of my face, blood running from the two wounds in his skin.

“This will cure you of everything,” Eric said.

I hesitated, then derided myself for my foolish hesitation. I knew that the more of Eric’s blood I had in me, the more he would know me. I knew that it would give him some kind of power over me. I knew that I would be stronger for a long time, and given how old Eric was, I would be very strong. I would heal, and I would feel wonderful. I would be more attractive. This was why vampires were preyed upon by Drainers, humans who worked in teams to capture vamps, chain them with silver, and drain their blood into vials, which sold for varying sums on the black market. Two hundred dollars had been the going price for one vial last year; God knows what Eric’s blood would bring, since he was so old. Proving that provenance would definitely be a problem for the Drainer. Draining was an extremely hazardous occupation, and it was also extremely illegal.

Eric was giving me a great gift.

I have never been what you would call squeamish, thank goodness. I closed my mouth over the little wounds, and I sucked.

Eric moaned, and I could tell quickly that he was once again pleased to be in such close contact. He began to move a little, and there wasn’t a lot I could do about it. His left arm was keeping me firmly clamped against him, and his right arm was, after all, feeding me. It was still hard not to be icked out by the process. But Eric was definitely having a good time, and since with every pull I felt better, it was hard to argue with myself that this was a bad thing to be doing. I tried not to think, and I tried not to move myself in response. I remembered the time I’d taken Bill’s blood because I needed extra strength, and I remembered Bill’s reaction.

Eric pressed against me even harder, and suddenly he said, “Ohhhhh,” and relaxed all over. I felt wetness against my back, and I took one deep, last draw. Eric groaned again, a deep and guttural sound, and his mouth trailed down the side of my neck.

“Don’t bite me,” I said. I was holding on to the remnants of my sanity with difficulty. What had excited me, I told myself, was my memory of Bill; his reaction when I’d bitten him, his intense arousal. Eric just happened to be here. I couldn’t have sex with a vampire, especially Eric, just because I found him attractive—not when there would be such dire consequences. I was just too strung out to enumerate those consequences to myself. I was an adult, I told myself sternly; true adults don’t have sex just because the other person is skilled and pretty.

Eric’s fangs scraped my shoulder.

I launched myself out of that bed like a rocket. Intending to locate a bathroom, I flung open the door to find the short brunette vampire, the one with the curly hair, standing just outside, his left arm draped with clothes, his right raised to knock.

“Well, look at you,” he said, smiling. And he certainly was looking. He burned his candle at both ends, apparently.

“You needed to talk to me?” I leaned against the door frame, doing my best to look wan and frail.

“Yes, after we cut your beautiful dress off, Russell figured you’d need some clothes. I happened to have these in my closet, and since we’re the same height . . .”