The Sookie Stackhouse Companion (36 page)

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Authors: Charlaine Harris

BOOK: The Sookie Stackhouse Companion
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Of course, since there are humans who live off preying on vampires, there are humans who live to be preyed on
by
vampires—fangbangers. They get off sexually from letting vampires feed on them. I’ve heard that some of them get off erotically from just being in the same room as a vampire. But loving to have your own blood taken is just as dangerous as taking vampire blood yourself. Even if you’re in a committed relationship, like I was with Bill and am now with Eric, the vampire has to be very, very careful about how much blood he takes.
The big problem with the fangbangers is that they can get really addicted to the bite and will keep coming back for more and more frequent feedings with any vamp they can attract. If the vampire isn’t careful, and some of them aren’t, the fangbanger ends up being accidentally drained or even turned.
You can’t be born a vampire. There’s only one way to become one. A human being has to be “turned” by a vampire, the way Bill was by that bitch Lorena.
Bill told me it isn’t easy to make a new vampire. The victim has to be drained of blood at a single sitting or over a period of no more than three days, till he’s almost at the point of the true death. Then the sire has to donate most of his or her own blood to the prospective vampire. After that, it can take up to three days in the dark for the whole change to occur, and it doesn’t always turn out right. Sometimes the vampire-to-be doesn’t make it. Sometimes they have to be destroyed, they’re so damaged. If the baby vampire survives, it’s the obligation of the sire to teach the child how to be a good vampire.
Just like a newborn child, the newborn vampire is hungry and doesn’t have a lot of control over his or her baser instincts. Amelia and I had firsthand experience with this when a shapeshifter named Jake Purifoy turned into a vampire and rose in a closet in my cousin Hadley’s apartment. We got lucky. We were able to call the vampire cops, who could control him during his hunger pangs.
That’s another reason the accidentally flipped fangbangers usually don’t survive. Not many older vampires are willing to take responsibility for controlling and educating the new vamp.
I’m always astonished when I read about someone who wants to become a vampire. There are actually people who are willing to give up the daylight for the night, who have no problem with the idea of watching all their loved ones wither and grow old. I guess they want the enhanced speed and strength and the glamour ability more than they want their human life. Are they just scared of dying? I don’t understand it. A wooden stake through the heart will take them out in a jiffy. They’re not stake-proof, and a beheading will end anyone’s existence, vamp or human.
It’s true that a vampire cannot cross the threshold of a private home uninvited—the resident has to say the express words to allow the vamp to enter. Even more interesting, that permission can be revoked, rendering a home safe from vampire intrusion. I’ve had a little fun with that rule myself in the past, and it’s good to know that it works.
All in all, there are times that I regret ever setting eyes on a vampire, or even seeing a six-pack of TrueBlood at the convenience store, but in the end you have to adapt to the world around you. I’ve become pretty good at adapting.
THE TWO-NATURED
 
When the vampires let people know that they were real, everyone thought that the world had been turned upside down. Heck, the first time I met an actual vampire, my universe
did
turn upside down. Of course, I fell in love with him. If I hadn’t, my life might have stayed on more of a predictable path.
Finding out shortly thereafter that some people can change themselves into other creatures was another serious shock. My favorite boss, Sam Merlotte, was the first person I saw in both forms.
There are apparently two kinds of the two-natured: shifters, who can change into any type of animal, and weres, who change into only one animal. By far the most numerous clan is the werewolves, and they’re so proud of that that they just refer to themselves as Weres, with a capital
W
. Of course, in the strictest sense, they’re all shapeshifters. They can change their physical form. But you wouldn’t ever hear a Were refer to himself as a shapeshifter, and Sam would never call himself a were-anything.
Within those two big divisions, there’s a caste. You’re either bitten or born. If you’re born, you’re the child of two pure-blooded two-natured humans. And you’re the first child of that particular pair. Your little brother or sister won’t be able to change. If you’re bitten, you had an unfortunate encounter with a two-natured individual when he or she was in animal form, and you got (of course) bitten. Most often, that won’t take, and you’ll be fine. But if it does take, you’ll start feeling weird at the full moon. You’ll assume a half-human, half-animal form when the moon is up. (Think Lon Chaney Jr. in
The Wolf Man
.) You’ll maintain your health and vitality longer than your regular human buddies, but sad to say you probably won’t live as long.
Sam’s a pureblood shifter, so he can change into any kind of animal form, though he prefers that of a dog. Most shifters tend to stick to a form they’ve become comfortable with, like a favorite shirt or a pair of shoes that fits just right. But Sam makes a great lion, let me tell you.
The wolves are a lot more secretive than the vampires. Let’s face it—not having to sleep in a coffin and remain unseen during the day lets them blend in a lot easier. I know a lot of Weres, and I’m still finding out things about them. If someone had told me there is a hidden shapeshifter bar in Shreveport, I would have thought they were nuts, which is probably the pot calling the kettle black, if you stop and think about it. Quinn took me to a drinking establishment called the Hair of the Dog, and it’s not a place for the fainthearted.
Most wolves group together in packs, with the strongest taking the role of packleader, a position that must be defended against challengers. I’ve been around Shreveport’s Long Tooth pack mostly, and it certainly isn’t a democracy. What the packmaster says goes. And if the packmaster needs backing up, the pack enforcer steps in.
There are some negatives to dating one of the two-natured, though the facts that they can go out in the sun and are physically warm are
huge
plusses as far as I’m concerned. But the icky part is that the necessity to keep breeding true can dominate mating choices. And if you’re a rare breed, like a weretiger or a werepanther, you’re kind of obliged to seek out a same-breed mate of the opposite sex and try to have a baby. Take Hotshot, for example. It’s a tiny enclave way out in the boondocks, and the werepanthers who live there form a nearly closed society.
Breeding true is all the more important because the two-natured have a high mortality rate. So the leader of a pack is required to have children with as many of the pureblood women in his group as possible. I found this out from Calvin Norris when we were semiromantically involved for a while. As much as I thought I might care for him, this secret breeding program was something I couldn’t handle. I’m the sort of woman who wants her husband home in bed with her, not out having kids with the nice lady down the street.
The two-natured young start manifesting their abilities when they hit puberty, as if teenagers don’t have enough problems already. According to what I’ve been told, the kids are mentored and taught how to handle both the physical and emotional changes that their condition entails.
Sometimes, though, shapeshifters will find that they have to mentor a nonchild. That’s what happened with my brother, Jason, though there are times when (with the way he acts) you’d think he was a prepubescent kid. After he got involved with Calvin’s niece Crystal, one of her werepanther ex-boyfriends took it into his head that the only thing that attracted her to Jason was that he was a full human. So he decided to turn Jason into a werepanther and win Crystal back that way—which, by the way, didn’t work. This transformation is not an easy thing to go through, but my big brother survived. In fact, after the first time he changed, Jason described it as “the most incredible experience” of his life.
Go figure.
THE FAIRIES
 
Just when I thought I had things figured out, with the vampires and the shapeshifters and all, I ended up having everything turned upside down again.
I found out that fairies are real; and no, I’m not talking trash about gay guys. I am talking about fairies—you know, those guys with the pointed ears? They’re actually a lot like the elves in
The Lord of the Rings
. I’m sorry, but Tolkien got them wrong. You don’t want to meet a real elf. They can take off your hand with one bite.
Unlike vampires and shapeshifters, fairies aren’t actually from the world we know. They come from a world that is pretty darn close to ours but is separated by some kind of magical barrier; at least, that’s the way I understand it. This world is called Faery, and all the . . . well, the creatures that live in it are the fae. Fairies are only one branch of the fae, but they’re the most populous and the most humanlike in form.
I’ve met elves, demons, and goblins. You don’t want to know them, though Mr. Cataliades, the mostly demon lawyer, is an okay guy.
Why am I interested in the fairies? I found out that my brother and I are part fairy. Out of nowhere my great-grandfather Niall Brigant invited me to dinner in Shreveport. He explained that his half-human son had been my grandfather and that he wanted to get to know me better; after all, we were family. Now I’m pretty sure that explains my being able to read minds.
He wasn’t the first fairy I met. That was Claudine Crane, six feet tall and drop-dead gorgeous, who turned out to be my fairy godmother. She definitely was not one of those fairies in a kid’s story; you know the kind I’m talking about, small, winged things that giggle and dart around like a demented firefly? No, Claudine wasn’t one of those; she knew magic, but she knew sex appeal as well and didn’t hesitate to use it. There wasn’t an eye, male or female, that didn’t look up and notice her when she walked into the room. Though she didn’t tell me so, Niall had sent her. Claudine was a full fairy, and she was also my cousin.
Magic is part of the very nature of the fae, and although they might all have the ability, it can manifest differently in each branch. Kind of like the way we humans have the same basic bodies but wildly different talents and capacities. I wonder if I should even be saying “we” anymore. Can I include myself with humans, since I’m part fairy? That’s something I’ve got to give some thought to.
Claudine said that the fae live a very long time, but they’re not immortal; they just don’t age at the same rate that humans do. I don’t think that fact really sank in until I met my great-grandfather. He doesn’t look much older than late fifties or early sixties, and he’s been alive for centuries, maybe even millennia. The fairies don’t keep track of time very well.
Not all that many of the fae actually live in our world for any extended period. Most of them prefer to stay away because of iron. That stuff is to them like Kryptonite is to Superman; oddly enough, so is lemon juice. I’m not a scientist, but that allergy seems a little weird to me. However, I went to school with people who were allergic to things like eggs and peanuts, so why not? Of course, that also means that a squirt gun full of lemon juice is an effective weapon against them.
I wonder if I could go to the world of the fae for a visit? I doubt I would be very well received. Most of those who reside in Faery look at humans as if we were an insult to their own wonderfulness. But a few fae choose to live on earth because humans are full of energy and emotions of a type that they can’t enjoy anywhere else. Claudine’s twin Claude lives among us, and Claudine did until her death.
Some fairies enjoy finding humans to mate with. Though these unions seldom result in a pregnancy, some do. The resultant kids have a compelling quality and sometimes strange abilities. Though it makes me squeamish to think of Gran and a fairy, I’m glad she was able to have my father and my aunt Linda.
The gateways, or portals, into Faery are hidden away in a number of places around the world, and those locations are guarded jealously. I can take a few guesses on general locations based on things that my great-grandfather and Claudine have said. The fae don’t like extremes in temperature, so I doubt that there will be any portals off in Siberia or down in Central America somewhere.
I know there’s a portal in the woods in back of my house.
The biggest danger for fairies who choose to reside in the human world—beyond even iron or lemon juice—is vampires. They find the very presence of a fairy intoxicating, and if they have the chance to drink the blood of a fairy, it’s an orgy of sensation for the vamp. So it’s not always fun to see them in the same room together. Thankfully, I’ve never been pushed into having to choose between the vampires I know and my cousins who are fae.
God willing, I never will be.
 
SOOKIE’S FAMILY TREE

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