Шарлин Харрис - Dead to the World

"Why can't the Shreveport witches just cast a spell to find Eric?" I asked.

"They can't find anything of his to use to cast such a spell," Pam said, and she sounded as if she knew what she was talking about. "They can't get into his daytime resting place to find a hair or clothes that bear his scent. And there's no one around who's got Eric's blood in her."

Ah-oh. Eric and I looked at each other very briefly. There was me; and I was hoping devoutly that no one knew that but Eric.

"Besides," Chow said, shifting from foot to foot, "in my opinion, since we are dead, such things would not work to cast a spell."

Pam's eyes latched on to Chow's. They were exchanging ideas again, and I didn't like it. Eric, the cause of all this message swapping, was looking back and forth between his two fellow vamps. Even to me he looked clueless.

Pam turned to me. "Eric should stay here, where he is. Moving him will expose him to more danger. With him out of the way and in safety, we can take countermeasures against the witches."

"Going to the mattresses," Jason muttered in my ear, still stuck on the Godfather terminology.

Now that Pam had said it out loud, I could see clearly why I should have become concerned when Jason began emphasizing how impossible it was that anyone should associate Eric with me. No one would believe that a vampire of Eric's power and importance would be parked with a human barmaid.

My amnesiac guest looked bewildered. I leaned forward, gave in briefly to my impulse to stroke his hair, and then I held my hands over his ears. He permitted this, even putting his own hands on top of mine. I was going to pretend he couldn't hear what I was going to say.

"Listen, Chow, Pam. This is the worst idea of all time. I'll tell you why." I could hardly get the words out fast enough, emphatically enough. "How am I supposed to protect him? You know how this will end! I'll get beaten up. Or maybe even killed."

Pam and Chow looked at me with twin blank expressions. They might as well have said, "Your point being?"

"If my sister does this," Jason said, disregarding me completely, "she deserves to get paid for it."

There was what you call a pregnant silence. I gaped at him.

Simultaneously, Pam and Chow nodded.

"At least as much as an informer would get if he called the phone number on the poster," Jason said, his bright blue eyes going from one pale face to another. "Fifty thousand."

"Jason!" I finally found my voice, and I clamped my hands down even tighter over Eric's ears. I was embarrassed and humiliated, without being able to figure out exactly why. For one thing, my brother was arranging my business as though it were his.

"Ten," Chow said.

"Forty-five," Jason countered.

"Twenty."

"Thirty-five."

"Done."

"Sookie, I'll bring you my shotgun," Jason said.

"How did this happen?" I asked the fire, when they were all gone.

All except for the big Viking vampire I was supposed to preserve and protect.

I was sitting on the rug in front of the fire. I'd just thrown in another piece of wood, and the flames were really lovely. I needed to think about something pleasant and comforting.

I saw a big bare foot out of the corner of my eye. Eric sank down to join me on the hearth rug. "I think this happened because you have a greedy brother, and because you are the kind of woman who would stop for me even though she was afraid," Eric said accurately.

"How are you feeling about all this?" I never would have asked the compos mentis Eric this question, but he still seemed so different; maybe not the completely terrified mess he'd been the night before, but still very un-Eric. "I mean—it's like you're a package that they put in a storage locker, me being the locker."

"I am glad they are afraid enough of me to take good care of me."

"Huh," I said intelligently. Not the answer I'd expected.

"I must be a frightening person, when I am myself. Or do I inspire so much loyalty through my good works and kind ways?"

I sniggered.

"I thought not."

"You're okay," I said reassuringly, though come to think of it, Eric didn't look like he needed much reassurance. However, now I was responsible for him. "Aren't your feet cold?"

"No," he said. But now I was in the business of taking care of Eric, who so didn't need taking care of. And I was being paid a staggering amount of money to do just that, I reminded myself sternly. I got the old quilt from the back of the couch and covered his legs and feet in green, blue, and yellow squares. I collapsed back onto the rug beside him.

"That's truly hideous," Eric said.

"That's what Bill said." I rolled over on my stomach and caught myself smiling.

"Where is this Bill?"

"He's in Peru."

"Did he tell you he was going?"

"Yes."

"Am I to assume that your relationship with him has waned?"

That was a pretty nice way to put it. "We've been on the outs. It's beginning to look permanent," I said, my voice even.

He was on his stomach beside me now, propped up on his elbows so we could talk. He was a little closer than I was comfortable with, but I didn't want to make a big issue out of scooting over. He half turned to toss the quilt over both of us.

"Tell me about him," Eric said unexpectedly. He and Pam and Chow had all had a glass of TrueBlood before the other vampires left, and he was looking pinker.

"You know Bill," I told him. "He's worked for you for quite a while. I guess you can't remember, but Bill's—well, he's kind of cool and calm, and he's really protective, and he can't seem to get some things through his head." I never thought I'd be rehashing my relationship with Bill with Eric, of all people.

"He loves you?"

I sighed, and my eyes watered, as they so often did when I thought of Bill—Weeping Willa, that was me. "Well, he said he did," I muttered dismally. "But then when this vampire ho contacted him somehow, he went a-running." For all I knew, she'd emailed him. "He'd had an affair with her before, and she turned out to be his, I don't know what you call 'em, the one who turned him into a vampire. Brought him over, he said. So Bill took back up with her. He says he had to. And then he found out"—I looked sideways at Eric with a significant raise of the eyebrows, and Eric looked fascinated—"that she was just trying to lure him over to the even-darker side."

"Pardon?"

"She was trying to get him to come over to another vampire group in Mississippi and bring with him the really valuable computer database he'd put together for your people, the Louisiana vamps," I said, simplifying a little bit for the sake of brevity.

"What happened?"

This was as much fun as talking to Arlene. Maybe even more, because I'd never been able to tell her the whole story. "Well, Lorena, that's her name, she tortured him," I said, and Eric's eyes widened. "Can you believe that? She could torture someone she'd made love with? Someone she'd lived with for years?" Eric shook his head disbelievingly. "Anyway, you told me to go to Jackson and find him, and I sort of picked up clues at this nightclub for Supes only." Eric nodded. Evidently, I didn't have to explain that Supes meant supernatural beings. "Its real name is Josephine's, but the Weres call it Club Dead. You told me to go there with this really nice Were who owed you a big favor, and I stayed at his place." Alcide Herveaux still figured in my daydreams. "But I ended up getting hurt pretty bad," I concluded. Hurt pretty bad, as always.

"How?"

"I got staked, believe it or not."

Eric looked properly impressed. "Is there a scar?"

"Yeah, even though—" And here I stopped dead.

He gave every indication he was hanging on my words. "What?"

"You got one of the Jackson vampires to work on the wound, so I'd survive for sure . . . and then you gave me blood to heal me quick, so I could look for Bill at daylight." Remembering how Eric had given me blood made my cheeks turn red, and I could only hope Eric would attribute my flush to the heat of the fire.