Sookie Stackhouse 8-copy Boxed Set (9 page)

What if we did it, and after all these years I discovered I had no talent for it? Or maybe it wouldn’t feel good. Maybe all the books and movies exaggerated. Arlene, too, who never seemed to understand that her sex life was not something I wanted to hear about.

I finally got to sleep, to have long, dark dreams.

The next morning, between fielding Gran’s questions about my walk with Bill and our future plans, I made some phone calls. I found two electricians, a plumber, and some other service people who gave me phone numbers where they could be reached at night and made sure they understood that a phone call from Bill Compton was not a prank.

Finally, I was lying out in the sun turning toasty when Gran carried the phone out to me.

“It’s your boss,” she said. Gran liked Sam, and he must have said something to make her happy because she was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Hi, Sam,” I said, maybe not sounding too glad because I knew something had gone wrong at work.

“Dawn didn’t make it in, cher,” he said.

“Oh . . .
hell
,” I said, knowing I’d have to go in. “I kind of have plans, Sam.” That was a first. “When do you need me?”

“Could you just come in from five to nine? That would help out a lot.”

“Am I gonna get another full day off?”

“What about Dawn splitting a shift with you another night?”

I made a rude noise, and Gran stood there with a stern face. I knew I’d get a lecture later. “Oh, all right,” I said grudgingly. “See you at five.”

“Thanks, Sookie,” he said. “I knew I could count on you.”

I tried to feel good about that. It seemed like a boring virtue. You can always count on Sookie to step in and help because she doesn’t have a life!

Of course, it would be fine to get to Bill’s after nine. He’d be up all night, anyway.

Work had never seemed so slow. I had trouble concentrating enough to keep my guard intact because I was always thinking about Bill. It was lucky there weren’t many customers, or I would have heard unwanted thoughts galore. As it was, I found out Arlene’s period was late, and she was scared she was pregnant, and before I could stop myself I gave her a hug. She stared at me searchingly and then turned red in the face.

“Did you read my mind, Sookie?” she asked, warning written in her voice. Arlene was one of the few people who simply acknowledged my ability without trying to explain it or categorizing me as a freak for possessing such an ability. She also didn’t talk about it often or in any normal voice, I’d noticed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” I apologized. “I’m just not focused today.”

“All right, then. You stay out from now on, though.” And Arlene, her flaming curls bobbing around her cheeks, shook her finger in my face.

I felt like crying. “Sorry,” I said again and strode off into the storeroom to collect myself. I had to pull my face straight and hold in those tears.

I heard the door open behind me.

“Hey, I said I was sorry, Arlene!” I snapped, wanting to be left alone. Sometimes Arlene confused telepathy with psychic talent. I was scared she’d ask me if she was really pregnant. She’d be better off buying an early home pregnancy kit.

“Sookie.” It was Sam. He turned me around with a hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

His voice was gentle and pushed me much closer to tears.

“You should sound mean so I won’t cry!” I said.

He laughed, not a big laugh, a small one. He put an arm around me.

“What’s the matter?” He wasn’t going to give up and go away.

“Oh, I . . .” and I stopped dead. I’d never, ever explicitly discussed my problem (that’s how I thought of it) with Sam or anyone else. Everyone in Bon Temps knew the rumors about why I was strange, but no one seemed to realize that I had to listen to their mental clatter nonstop, whether I wanted to or not—every day, the yammer yammer yammer . . .

“Did you hear something that bothered you?” His voice was quiet and matter-of-fact. He touched the middle of my forhead, to indicate he knew exactly how I could “hear.”

“Yes.”

“Can’t help it, can you?”

“Nope.”

“Hate it, don’t you, cher?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Not your fault then, is it?”

“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 trickling down my cheek.

“Is that how you do it? How do you keep your guard up, Sookie?”

He sounded really interested, not as though he thought I was a basket case. I looked up, not very far, into Sam’s prominent, brilliant blue eyes.

“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 snapping together steel plates—between my brain and all others.”

“You have to hold the plates up?”

“Yes. It takes a lot of concentration. It’s like dividing my mind all the time. That’s why people think I’m crazy. Half my brain is trying to keep the steel plates up, and the other half might be taking drink orders, so sometimes there’s not a lot left over for coherent conversation.” What a gush of relief I was feeling, just being able to talk about it.

“Do you hear words or just get impressions?”

“Depends on who I’m listening to. And their state. If they’re drunk, or really disturbed, it’s just pictures, impressions, intentions. If they’re sober and sane it’s words and some pictures.”

“The vampire says you can’t hear him.”

The idea of Bill and Sam having a conversation about me made me feel very peculiar. “That’s true,” I admitted.

“Is that relaxing to you?”

“Oh,
yes
.” I meant it from my heart.

“Can you hear me, Sookie?”

“I don’t want to try!” I said hastily. I moved to the door of the storeroom and stood with my hand on the knob. I pulled a tissue from my shorts pocket and patted the tear track off my cheek. “I’ll have to quit if I read your mind, Sam! I like you, I like it here.”

“Just try it sometime, Sookie,” he said casually, turning to open a carton of whiskey with the razor-edged box cutter he kept in his pocket. “Don’t worry about me. You have a job as long as you want one.”

I wiped down a table Jason had spilled salt on. He’d been in earlier to eat a hamburger and fries and down a couple of beers.

I was turning over Sam’s offer in my mind.

I wouldn’t try to listen to him today. He was ready for me. I’d wait when he was busy doing something else. I’d just sort of slip in and give him a listen. He’d invited me, which was absolutely unique.

It was kind of nice to be invited.

I repaired my makeup and brushed my hair. I’d worn it loose, since Bill had seemed to like that, and a darn nuisance it had been all evening. It was just about time to go, so I retrieved my purse from its drawer in Sam’s office.

 

T
HE COMPTON HOUSE, like Gran’s, was set back from the road. It was a bit more visible from the parish road than hers, and it had a view of the cemetery, which her house didn’t. This was due (at least in part) to the Compton house’s higher setting. It was on top of a knoll and it was fully twostoried. Gran’s house had a couple of spare bedrooms upstairs, and an attic, but it was more like half a top story.

At one point in the family’s long history, the Comptons had had a very nice house. Even in the dark, it had a certain graciousness. But I knew in the daylight you could see the pillars were peeling, the wood siding was crooked, and the yard was simply a jungle. In the humid warmth of Louisiana, yard growth could get out of hand mighty quick, and old Mr. Compton had not been one to hire someone to do his yard work. When he’d gotten too feeble, it had simply gone undone.

The circular drive hadn’t gotten fresh gravel in many years, and my car lurched to the front door. I saw that the house was all lit up, and I began to realize that the evening would not go like last evening. There was another car parked in front of the house, a Lincoln Continental, white with a dark blue top. A blue-on-white bumper sticker read VAMPIRES SUCK. A red and yellow one stated HONK IF YOU’RE A BLOOD DONOR! The vanity plate read, simply, FANGS 1.

If Bill already had company, maybe I should just go on home.

But I had been invited and was expected. Hesitantly, I raised my hand and knocked.

The door was opened by a female vampire.

She glowed like crazy. She was at least five feet eleven and black. She was wearing spandex. An exercise bra in flamingo pink and matching calf-length leggings, with a man’s white dress shirt flung on unbuttoned, constituted the vampire’s ensemble.

I thought she looked cheap as hell and most likely absolutely mouthwatering from a male point of view.

“Hey, little human chick,” the vampire purred.

And all of a sudden I realized I was in danger. Bill had warned me repeatedly that not all vampires were like him, and he had moments when he was not so nice, himself. I couldn’t read this creature’s mind, but I could hear cruelty in her voice.

Maybe she had hurt Bill. Maybe she was his lover.

All of this passed through my mind in a rush, but none of it showed on my face. I’ve had years of experience in controlling my face. I could feel my bright smile snap on protectively, my spine straightened, and I said cheerfully, “Hi! I was supposed to drop by tonight and give Bill some information. Is he available?”

The female vampire laughed at me, which was nothing I wasn’t used to. My smile notched up a degree brighter. This critter radiated danger the way a light bulb gives off heat.

“This little human gal here says she has some information for you, Bill!” she yelled over her (slim, brown, beautiful) shoulder.

I tried not to let relief show in any way.

“You wanna see this little thing? Or shall I just give her a love bite?”

Over my dead body, I thought furiously, and then realized it might be just that.

I didn’t hear Bill speak, but the vampire stood back, and I stepped into the old house. Running wouldn’t do any good; this vamp could undoubtedly bring me down before I’d gone five steps. And I hadn’t laid 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 best. I’m pretty good at doing that.

The big front room was crammed with dark old furniture and people. No, not people, I realized after I’d looked carefully; two people, and two more strange vampires.

The two vampires were both male and white. One had a buzz cut and tattoos on every visible inch of his skin. The other was even taller than the woman, maybe six foot four, with a head of long rippling dark hair and a magnificent build.

The humans were less impressive. The woman was blond and plump, thirty-five or older. She was wearing maybe a pound too much makeup. She looked as worn as an old boot. The man was another story. He was lovely, the prettiest man I’d ever seen. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-one. He was swarthy, maybe Hispanic, small and fine-boned. He wore denim cut-offs and nothing else. Except for makeup. I took that in my stride, but I didn’t find it appealing.

Then Bill moved and I saw him, standing in the shadows of the dark hall leading from the living room to the back of the house. I looked at him, trying to get my bearings in this unexpected situation. To my dismay, he didn’t look at all reassuring. His face was very still, absolutely impenetrable. Though I couldn’t believe I was even thinking it, it would have been great at that point to have had a peek into his mind.

“Well, we can have a wonderful evening now,” the long-haired male vampire said. He sounded delighted. “Is this a little friend of yours, Bill? She’s so fresh.”

I thought of a few choice words I’d learned from Jason.

“If you’ll just excuse me and Bill a minute,” I said very politely, as if this was a perfectly normal evening, “I’ve been arranging for workmen for the house.” I tried to sound businesslike and impersonal, though wearing shorts and a T-shirt and Nikes does not inspire professional respect. But I hoped I conveyed the impression that nice people I encountered in the course of my working day could not possibly hold any threat of danger.

“And we heard Bill was on a diet of synthetic blood only,” said the tattooed vampire. “Guess we heard wrong, Diane.”

The female vampire cocked her head and gave me a long look. “I’m not so sure. She looks like a virgin to me.”

I didn’t think Diane was talking hymens.

I took a few casual steps toward Bill, hoping like hell he would defend me if worst came to worst, but finding myself not absolutely sure. I was still smiling, hoping he would speak, would move.

And then he did. “Sookie is mine,” he said, and his voice was so cold and smooth it wouldn’t have made a ripple in the water if it had been a stone.

I looked at him sharply, but I had enough brains to keep my mouth shut.

“How good you been taking care of our Bill?” Diane asked.

“None of your fucking business,” I answered, using one of Jason’s words and still smiling. I said I had a temper.

There was a sharp little pause. Everyone, human and vampire, seemed to examine me closely enough to count the hairs on my arms. Then the tall male began to rock with laughter and the others followed suit. While they were yukking it up, I moved a few feet closer to Bill. His dark eyes were fixed on me—
he
wasn’t laughing—and I got the distinct feeling he wished, just as much as I did, that I could read his mind.

He was in some danger, I could tell. And if he was, then I was.

“You have a funny smile,” said the tall male thoughtfully. I’d liked him better when he was laughing.

“Oh, Malcolm,” said Diane. “All human women look funny to you.”

Malcolm pulled the human male to him and gave him a long kiss. I began to feel a little sick. That kind of stuff is private. “This is true,” Malcolm said, pulling away after a moment, to the small man’s apparent disappointment. “But there is something rare about this one. Maybe she has rich blood.”