Шарлин Харрис - From Dead To Worse

Bill said, "Yes. I've met him." But he didn't add any details and stood lost in an inner debate. I've never wanted more intensely to know what someone was thinking than I did at that moment. The silence was getting to me.

"Friend or foe?" I called.

Victor laughed. It was a real good laugh—genial, an "I'm laughing with you, not at you" kind of chortle. "That's an excellent question," he said, "and one only you can answer. Do I have the honor of talking to Sookie Stackhouse, famed telepath?"

"You have the honor of talking to Sookie Stackhouse, barmaid," I said frostily. And I heard a sort of throaty ruffling noise, a vocalization of an animal. A large animal.

My heart sank into my bare feet.

"The wards will hold," Amelia was saying to herself in a rapid whisper. "The wards will hold; the wards will hold." Bill was gazing at me with his dark eyes, thoughts flickering across his face in rapid succession. Frannie was looking vague and detached, but her eyes were fixed on the door. She'd heard the sound, too.

"Quinn's out there with them," I whispered to Amelia, since she was the only one in the room who hadn't figured that out.

Amelia said, "He's on their side?"

"They've got his mom," I reminded her. But I felt sick inside.

"But we've got his sister," Amelia said.

Eric looked as thoughtful as Bill. In fact, they were looking at each other now, and I could believe they were having a whole dialogue without speaking a word.

All this thoughtfulness wasn't good. It meant they hadn't decided which way they were going to jump.

"May we come in?" asked the charming voice. "Or may we treat with one of you face-to-face? You seem to have quite a few safeguards on the house."

Amelia pumped her arm and said, "Yes!" She grinned at me.

Nothing wrong with a little deserved self-congratulation, though the timing of it might be a bit off. I smiled back at her, though I felt my cheeks would crack.

Eric seemed to gather himself, and after one long last look at each other, he and Bill relaxed. Eric turned to me, kissed me on the lips very lightly, and looked at my face for a long moment. "He'll spare you," Eric said, and I understood he wasn't really talking to me but to himself. "You're too unique to waste."

And then he opened the door.

Since the lights were still off in the living room and the security light was on outside, from inside the house we could see pretty well. The vampire standing by himself in the front yard was not particularly tall, but he was a striking man. He was wearing a business suit. His hair was short and curly, and though the light wasn't good for making such a determination, I thought it was black. He stood with an attitude, like a GQ model.

Eric was pretty much blocking the doorway, so that was all I could tell. It seemed tacky to go to the window and stare.

"Eric Northman," said Victor Madden. "I haven't seen you in a few decades."

"You've been working hard in the desert," Eric said neutrally.

"Yes, business has been booming. There are some things I want to discuss with you—rather urgent things, I'm afraid. May I come in?"

"How many are with you?" Eric asked.

"Ten," I whispered at Eric's back. "Nine vamps and Quinn." If a human brain left a buzzing hole in my inner consciousness, a vampire brain left an empty one. All I had to do was count the holes.

"Four companions are with me," Victor said, sounding absolutely truthful and frank.

"I think you've lost your counting ability," Eric said. "I believe there are nine vampires there, and one shifter."

Victor's silhouette realigned as his hand twitched. "No use trying to pull the wool over your eyes, old sport."

"Old sport?" muttered Amelia.

"Let them step out of the woods so I can see," Eric called.

Amelia and Bill and I abandoned being discreet and went to the windows to watch. One by one, the vampires of Las Vegas came out of the trees. Since they were at the edges of the darkness I couldn't see most of them very well, but I noticed a statuesque woman with lots of brown hair and a man no taller than me who sported a neat beard and an earring.

The last to emerge from the woods was the tiger. I was sure Quinn had shifted into his animal form because he didn't want to look at me face-to-face. I felt horribly sorry for him. I figured that however ripped up inside I was, his insides had to be like hamburger meat.

"I see a few familiar faces," Eric said. "Are they all under your charge?"

This had a meaning that I didn't understand.

"Yes," Victor said very firmly.

This meant something to Eric. He stood back from the doorway, and the the rest of us turned to look at him. "Sookie," Eric said, "it's not for me to invite him in. This is your house." Eric turned to Amelia. "Is your ward specific?" he asked. "Will the ward let in him only?"

"Yes," she said. I wished she sounded more certain. "He has to be invited in by someone the ward accepts, like Sookie."

Bob the cat strolled to the open doorway. He sat in the exact middle of the threshold, his tail wrapped around his paws, and surveyed the newcomer steadily. Victor laughed a little when Bob first appeared, but that died away after a second.

"This is not just a cat," Victor said.

"No," I said, loud enough for Victor to hear me. "Neither is the one out there." The tiger made a chuffing sound, which I'd read was supposed to be friendly. I guess it was as close as Quinn could come to telling me he was sorry about the whole damn thing. Or maybe not. I came to stand right behind Bob. He raised his head to look at me, and then strolled off with as much indifference as he'd arrived. Cats.

Victor Madden approached the front porch. Evidently the wards would not let him cross the boards, and he waited at the foot of the steps. Amelia flipped on the front porch lights, and Victor blinked in the sudden glare. He was a very attractive man, if not exactly handsome. His eyes were big and brown, and his jaw was decided. He had beautiful teeth displayed in a jaw-cracking smile. He looked at me very carefully.

"Reports of your attractions were not exaggerated," he said, which took me a minute to decipher. I was too scared to be at my most intelligent. I made out Jonathan the spy among the vampires in the yard.

"Uh-huh," I said, unimpressed. "You alone can come in."

"I'm delighted," he said, bowing. He took a cautious step up and looked relieved. After that he crossed the porch so smoothly that all of a sudden he was right in front of me, his pocket handkerchief—I swear to God, a snowy white pocket handkerchief—almost touching my white T-shirt. It was all I could do to keep from flinching, but I managed to hold very still. I met his eyes and felt the pressure behind them. He was trying his mind tricks to see what might work on me.

Not much would, in my experience. After I'd let him establish that, I moved back to give him room to enter.

Victor stood quite still just inside the door. He gave everyone in the room a very cautious look, though his smile never faded. When he spotted Bill, the smile actually brightened. "Ah, Compton," he said, and though I expected he'd follow up with a more illuminating remark, that didn't happen. He gave Amelia a thorough scrutiny. "The source of the magic," he muttered, and inclined his head to her. Frannie got a quicker evaluation. When Victor recognized her, he looked, for one second, severely displeased.

I should have hidden her. I simply hadn't thought about it. Now the Las Vegas group knew that Quinn had sent his sister ahead to warn us. I wondered if we'd survive this.

If we lived until daytime, we three humans could leave in a car, and if the cars were disabled, well, we had cell phones and could call for a pickup. But there was no telling what other day-walking helpers the vampires of Las Vegas had . . . besides Quinn. And as far as Eric and Bill being able to fight their way through the line of vampires outside: they could try. I didn't know how far they'd get.