Шарлин Харрис - Dead until Dark

Just when I was really having to struggle with picturing Bill with somebody else, he knocked. I opened the door and we stood looking at each other for a minute. His lips had more color than normal, so he'd done it. I bit my own lips to keep from saying anything.

"You did change," he said first.

"You think anyone else'll be able to tell?" I hoped not.

"I don't know." He held out his hand, and we walked to his car. He opened my door, and I brushed by him to climb in. I stiffened.

"What's wrong?" he asked, after a moment.

"Nothing," I said, trying to keep my voice even, and I sat in the passenger's seat and stared straight ahead of me.

I told myself I might as well be mad at the cow who had given him his hamburger. But somehow the simile just didn't work.

"You smell different," I said after we'd been on the high­way for a few minutes. We drove for a few minutes in si­lence.

"Now you know how I will feel if Eric touches you," he told me. "But I think I'll feel worse because Eric will enjoy touching you, and I didn't much enjoy my feeding."

I figured that wasn't totally, strictly, true: I know I always enjoy eating even if I'm not served my favorite food. But I appreciated the sentiment.

We didn't talk much. We were both worried about what was ahead of us. All too soon, we were parking at Fangtasia again, but this time in the back. As Bill held open the car door, I had to fight an impulse to cling to the seat and refuse to get out. Once I made myself emerge, I had another strug­gle involving my intense desire to hide behind Bill. I gave a kind of gasp, took his arm, and we walked to the door like we were going to a party we were anticipating with pleasure.

Bill looked down at me with approval.

I fought an urge to scowl at him.

He knocked on the metal door with 'fangtasia' stencilled on it. We were in a service and delivery alley that ran behind all the stores in the little strip mall. There were several other cars parked back there, Eric's sporty red convertible among them. All the vehicles were high-priced.

You won't find a vampire in a Ford Fiesta.

Bill knocked, three quick, two spaced apart. The Secret Vampire Knock, I guess. Maybe I'd get to learn the Secret Handshake.

The beautiful blond vampire opened the door, the female who'd been at the table with Eric when I'd been to the bar before. She stood back without speaking to let us enter.

If Bill had been human, he would have protested at how tightly I was holding his hand.

The female was in front of us more quickly than my eyes could follow, and I started. Bill wasn't surprised at all, nat­urally. She led us through a storeroom disconcertingly similar to Merlotte's and into a little corridor. We went through the door on our right.

Eric was in the small room, his presence dominating it. Bill didn't exactly kneel to kiss his ring, but he did nod kind of deep. There was another vampire in the room, the barten­der, Long Shadow; he was in fine form tonight, in a skinny-strap tee and weight-lifting pants, all in deep green.

"Bill, Sookie," Eric greeted us. "Bill, you and Sookie know Long Shadow. Sookie, you remember Pam." Pam was the blond female. "And this is Bruce."

Bruce was a human, the most frightened human I'd ever seen. I had considerable sympathy with that. Middle-aged and paunchy, Bruce had thinning dark hair that curved in stiff waves across his scalp. He was jowly and small-mouthed. He was wearing a nice suit, beige, with a white shirt and a brown-and-navy patterned tie. He was sweating heavily. He was in a straight chair across the desk from Eric. Naturally, Eric was in the power chair. Pam and Long Shadow were standing against the wall across from Eric, by the door. Bill took his place beside them, but as I moved to join him, Eric spoke again.

"Sookie, listen to Bruce."

I stood staring at Bruce for a second, waiting for him to speak, until I understood what Eric meant.

"What exactly am I listening for?" I asked, knowing my voice was sharp.

"Someone has embezzled about sixty thousand dollars from us," Eric explained.

Boy, somebody had a death wish.

"And rather than put all our human employees to death or torture, we thought perhaps you would look into their minds and tell us who it was."

He said "death or torture" as calmly as I said, "Bud or Old Milwaukee."

"And then what will you do?" I asked. Eric seemed surprised.

"Whoever it is will give our money back," he said simply.

"And then?"

His big blue eyes narrowed as he stared at me. "Why, if we can produce proof of the crime, we'll turn the culprit over to the police," he said smoothly.

Liar, liar, pants on fire. "I'll make a deal, Eric," I said, not bothering to smile. Winsome did not count with Eric, and he was far from any desire to jump my bones. At the moment. He smiled, indulgently. "What would that be, Sookie?"

"If you really do turn the guilty person over to the police, I'll do this for you again, whenever you want." Eric cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know I'd probably have to anyway. But isn't it better if I come willing, if we have good faith with each other?" I broke into a sweat. I could not believe I was bar­gaining with a vampire.

Eric actually seemed to be thinking that over. And sud­denly, I was in his thoughts. He was thinking he could make me do what he wanted, anywhere, anytime, just by threat­ening Bill or some human I loved. But he wanted to main­stream, to keep as legal as he could, to keep his relations with humans aboveboard, or at least as aboveboard as vampire-human dealings could be. He didn't want to kill anyone if he didn't have to.

It was like suddenly being plunged into a pit of snakes, cold snakes, lethal snakes. It was only a flash, a slice of his mind, sort of, but it left me facing a whole new reality.

"Besides," I said quickly, before he could see I'd been inside his head, "how sure are you that the thief is a human?"

Pam and Long Shadow both moved suddenly, but Eric flooded the room with his presence, commanding them to be still.

"That's an interesting idea," he said. "Pam and Long Shadow are my partners in this bar, and if none of the humans is guilty, I guess we'll have to look at them."

"Just a thought," I said meekly, and Eric looked at me with the glacial blue eyes of a being who hardly remembers what humanity was like.

"Start now, with this man," he commanded.

I knelt by Bruce's chair, trying to decide how to proceed. I'd never tried to formalize something that was pretty chancy. Touching would help; direct contact clarified the transmis­sion, so to speak. I took Bruce's hand, found that too per­sonal (and too sweaty) and pushed back his coat cuff. I took hold of his wrist. I looked into his small eyes.

I didn't take the money, who took it, what crazy fool would put us in danger like this, what will Lillian do if they kill me, and Bobby and Heather, why did I work for vampires any­way, it's sheer greed, and I'm paying for it, God I'll never work for these things again how can this crazy woman find out who took the fucking money why doesn't she let go of me what is she is she a vampire, too, or some kind of demon her eyes are so strange I should have found out earlier that the money was missing and found out who took it before I even said anything to Eric . . .

"Did you take the money?" I breathed, though I was sure I already knew the answer.

"No," Bruce groaned, sweat running down his face, and his thoughts, his reaction to the question, confirmed what I'd heard already.

"Do you know who did?"

"I wish."

I stood, turned to Eric, shook my head. "Not this guy," I said.

Pam escorted poor Bruce out, brought the next interrogee.

My subject was a barmaid, dressed in trailing black with lots of cleavage on display, her ragged strawberry blond hair straggling down her back. Of course, working at Fangtasia would be a dream job for a fang-banger, and this gal had the scars to prove she enjoyed her perks. She was confident enough to grin at Eric, foolish enough to take the wooden chair with some confidence, even crossing her legs like Sharon Stone—she hoped. She was surprised to see a strange vampire and a new woman in the room, and not pleased by my presence, though Bill made her lick her lips.