Шарлин Харрис: Dead to the World

"Good," he said, when he saw the fire. He stood squarely in front of it to warm his hands, incidentally blocking the warmth from me. "What time did you get home last night?" he said over his shoulder.

"I guess I got to bed about three."

"What did you think of that girl I was with?"

"I think you better not date her anymore."

That wasn't what he'd expected to hear. His eyes slid sideways to meet mine. "What did you get off her?" he asked in a subdued voice. My brother knows I am telepathic, but he would never discuss it with me, or anyone else. I've seen him get into fights with some man who accused me of being abnormal, but he knows I'm different. Everyone else does, too. They just choose not to believe it, or they believe I couldn't possibly read their thoughts—just someone else's. God knows, I try to act and talk like I'm not receiving an unwanted spate of ideas and emotions and regrets and accusations, but sometimes it just seeps through.

"She's not your kind," I said, looking into the fire.

"She surely ain't a vamp," he protested.

"No, not a vamp."

"Well, then." He glared at me belligerently.

"Jason, when the vampires came out—when we found out they were real after all those decades of thinking they were just a scary legend—didn't you ever wonder if there were other tall tales that were real?"

My brother struggled with that concept for a minute. I knew (because I could "hear" him) that Jason wanted to deny any such idea absolutely and call me a crazy woman—but he just couldn't. "You know for a fact," he said. It wasn't quite a question.

I made sure he was looking me in the eyes, and I nodded emphatically.

"Well, shit," he said, disgusted. "I really liked that girl, and she was a tiger in the sack."

"Really?" I asked, absolutely stunned that she had changed in front of him when it wasn't the full moon. "Are you okay?" The next second, I was chastising myself for my stupidity. Of course she hadn't.

He gaped at me for a second, before busting out laughing. "Sookie, you are one weird woman! You looked just like you thought she really could—" And his face froze. I could feel the idea bore a hole through the protective bubble most people inflate around their brain, the bubble that repels sights and ideas that don't jibe with their expectation of the everyday. Jason sat down heavily in Gran's recliner. "I wish I didn't know that," he said in a small voice.

"That may not be specifically what happens to her—the tiger thing—but believe me, something happens."

It took a minute for his face to settle back into more familiar lines, but it did. Typical Jason behavior: There was nothing he could do about his new knowledge, so he pushed it to the back of his mind. "Listen, did you see Hoyt's date last night? After they left the bar, Hoyt got stuck in a ditch over to Arcadia, and they had to walk two miles to get to a phone because he'd let his cell run down."

"He did not!" I exclaimed, in a comforting and gossipy way. "And her in those heels." Jason's equilibrium was restored. He told me the town gossip for a few minutes, he accepted my offer of a Coke, and he asked me if I needed anything from town.

"Yes, I do." I'd been thinking while he was talking. Most of his news I'd heard from other brains the nights before, in unguarded moments.

"Ah-oh," he said, looking mock-frightened. "What am I in for now?"

"I need ten bottles of synthetic blood and clothes for big man," I said, and I'd startled him again. Poor Jason, he deserved a silly vixen of a sister who bore nieces and nephews who called him Uncle Jase and held on to his legs. Instead, he got me.

"How big is the man, and where is he?"

"He's about six foot four or five, and he's asleep," I said. "I'd guess a thirty-four waist, and he's got long legs and broad shoulders." I reminded myself to check the size label on Eric's jeans, which were still in the dryer out on the back porch.

"What kind of clothes?"

"Work clothes."

"Anybody I know?"

"Me," said a much deeper voice.

Jason whipped around as if he was expecting an attack, which shows his instincts aren't so bad, after all. But Eric looked as unthreatening as a vampire his size can look. And he'd obligingly put on the brown velour bathrobe that I'd left in the second bedroom. It was one I'd kept here for Bill, and it gave me a pang to see it on someone else. But I had to be practical; Eric couldn't wander around in red bikini underwear—at least, not with Jason in the house.

Jason goggled at Eric and cast a shocked glance at me. "This is your newest man, Sookie? You didn't let any grass grow under your feet." He didn't know whether to sound admiring or indignant. Jason still didn't realize Eric was dead. It's amazing to me that lots of people can't tell for a few minutes. "And I need to get him clothes?"

"Yes. His shirt got torn last night, and his blue jeans are still dirty."

"You going to introduce me?"

I took a deep breath. It would have been so much better if Jason hadn't seen Eric. "Better not," I said.

They both took that badly. Jason looked wounded, and the vampire looked offended.

"Eric," he said, and stuck out a hand to Jason.

"Jason Stackhouse, this rude lady's brother," Jason said.

They shook, and I felt like wringing both their necks.

"I'm assuming there's a reason why you two can't go out to buy him more clothes," Jason said.

"There's a good reason," I said. "And there's about twenty good reasons you should forget you ever saw this guy."

"Are you in danger?" Jason asked me directly.

"Not yet," I said.

"If you do something that gets my sister hurt, you'll be in a world of trouble," Jason told Eric the vampire.

"I would expect nothing less," Eric said. "But since you are being blunt with me, I'll be blunt with you. I think you should support her and take her into your household, so she would be better protected."

Jason's mouth fell open again, and I had to cover my own so I wouldn't laugh out loud. This was even better than I'd imagined.

"Ten bottles of blood and a change of clothes?" Jason asked me, and I knew by the change in his voice that he'd finally cottoned on to Eric's state.

"Right. Liquor store'll have the blood. You can get the clothes at WalMart." Eric had mostly been a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy, which was all I could afford, anyway. "Oh, he needs some shoes, too."

Jason went to stand by Eric and put his foot parallel to the vampire's. He whistled, which made Eric jump.

"Big feet," Jason commented, and flashed me a look. "Is the old saying true?"

I smiled at him. He was trying to lighten the atmosphere. "You may not believe me, but I don't know."

"Kind of hard to swallow . . . no joke intended. Well, I'm gone," Jason said, nodding to Eric. In a few seconds, I heard his truck speeding around the curves in the driveway, through the dark woods. Night had fallen completely.

"I'm sorry I came out while he was here," Eric said tentatively. "You didn't want me to meet him, I think." He came over to the fire and seemed to be enjoying the warmth as I had been doing.

"It's not that I'm embarrassed to have you here," I said. "It's that I have a feeling you're in a heap of trouble, and I don't want my brother drawn in."

"He is your only brother?"

"Yes. And my parents are gone, my grandmother, too. He's all I have, except for a cousin who's been on drugs for years. She's lost, I guess."

"Don't be so sad," he said, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine." I made my voice brisk and matter-of-fact.

"You've had my blood," he said.

Ah-oh. I stood absolutely still.

"I wouldn't be able to tell how you feel if you hadn't had my blood," he said. "Are we—have we been—lovers?"

That was certainly a nice way to put it. Eric was usually pretty Anglo-Saxon about sex.