Charlaine Harris - Deadlocked

learned I had this amazing object, I would be in even more danger than my normal al otment.

I opened the drawer and looked at my grandmother’s love gift. The cluviel dor was a creamy green and looked not unlike a slightly thick powder compact, which was why I kept it in my makeup drawer. The lid was circled with a band of gold. It would not open; it had never opened. I didn’t know how to trigger it. In my hand, the cluviel dor radiated the same warmth I felt when I was close to Nial … the same warmth times a hundred.

I was so tempted to put it in my purse. My hand hovered over it.

I took it out of the drawer and turned it over and over in my hands. As I held the smooth object, feeling intense pleasure in its nearness, I weighed the value of taking it with me against the risk.

In the end, I put it back in the drawer with a powder puff on top of it.

The phone rang.

Pam said, “Our meeting is at Eric’s house at nine o’clock.”

“I thought I’d be coming to Fangtasia,” I said, a little surprised. “Okay, I’l be on my way in a jiffy.”

Without answering, Pam hung up. Vampires are not experts on phone manners. I leaned over to look in the mirror while I applied my lipstick.

In two minutes, the phone rang again.

“Hel o?”

“Sookie,” said Mustapha’s gruff voice. “You don’t need to be here til ten.”

“Oh? Wel … okay.” That would give me a more reasonable amount of time; I wouldn’t have to risk getting a ticket, and there were a few more little things I’d wanted to do before I left.

I said a prayer, and I turned down my bed as a sign of faith that I would return home to sleep in it. I watered my plants, just in case. I quickly checked my e-mail, found nothing of interest. After looking at myself one more time in the ful -length mirror on the bathroom door, I decided to leave.

I had a comfortable amount of time.

I listened to dance music on the way over to Shreveport, and I sang along with songs from Saturday Night Fever . I loved to watch the young John Travolta dance, and that was something I was good at. I could sing only when I was by myself. I belted out “Stayin’ Alive,” aware that might be my own theme song. By the time I stopped at the guardhouse at the entrance to Eric’s gated community, I was a fraction less worried about the evening.

I wondered where Dan Shel ey was. The new night guard, a muscular human whose nametag read “Vince,” waved me through without getting up.

“Enjoy the party,” he cal ed.

A little surprised, I smiled and waved back at him. I’d thought I was going to a serious council, but evidently this visit by the Grand Poobah was starting off on a social note.

Though Eric’s fancy neighbors on the circle raised their eyebrows at cars parked on the street, I did just that because I didn’t want to be blocked in. The broad driveway to the left of the yard, running slightly uphil to Eric’s garage, was packed solid. I’d never seen so many cars there. I could hear music coming from the house, though it was faint. Vampires didn’t need to turn the volume up like humans did; they could hear al too wel .

I turned off the motor and sat behind the wheel, trying to get my head together before walking into the lion’s den. Why hadn’t I just said no when Mustapha told me to come? Until this moment, I literal y hadn’t considered the option of staying home. Was I here because I loved Eric? Or because I was in so deep in the vampire world that it hadn’t occurred to me to refuse?

Maybe a little of both.

I turned to open the Malibu door, and Bil was standing right there . I gave a little yip of shock. “You know better than to do that!” I snarled, glad to vent some of my fear in the guise of anger. I shot out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door behind me.

“Turn around and go back to Bon Temps, sweetheart,” Bil said. In the harsh streetlight, my first vampire lover looked horribly white except for his eyes, which were shadowed pits. His dark thick hair and his dark clothing provided even more contrast, so much so that he looked as though he were enameled with luminescent paint, like a house sign.

“I’ve been sitting in my car thinking about it,” I admitted. “But it’s too late.”

“You should go.” He meant it.

“Ah … that would be kind of leaving Eric in the lurch,” I said, and there might have been a bit of a question in my voice.

“He can manage without you tonight. Please, go home.” Bil ’s cool hand took mine, and he applied very gentle pressure.

“You’d better tel me what’s happening.”

“Felipe has brought some of his vampires with him. They swept through a bar or two to pick up some humans to drink with—and from. Their behavior is … wel , you remember how much Diane, Liam, and Malcolm disgusted you?”

The three vampires, now final y dead, had not had any qualms about having sex with humans in front of me, and it hadn’t ended there.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Felipe’s ordinarily more discreet than that, but he’s in a party mood tonight.”

I swal owed. “I told Eric I’d come,” I said. “Felipe might take it bad if I’m not here, since I’m Eric’s human wife.” Eric had coerced me into the title because it gave me a certain amount of protection.

“Eric wil survive your absence,” Bil said. If he’d extended that sentence, I was pretty sure the ending would have been, “But you may not survive your presence.” He continued, “I’m stuck out here on guard duty. I’m not al owed inside. I can’t protect you.”

Leaving the cluviel dor at home had been a mistake.

“Bil , I do pretty good taking care of myself,” I said. “You wish me wel , you hear?”

“Sookie …”

“I have to go in.”

“Then I do wish you wel .” His voice was wooden, but his eyes were not.

I had a choice. I could be formal and go to the front door; a path of stepping stones branched off from the driveway and meandered up the yard to the massive front door. This path was prettily bordered by crepe myrtles, now in ful bloom. My other option was to continue up the driveway, swing right into the garage, and enter through the kitchen. That was the one I chose. After al , I was more at home here than any of the Nevada visitors. I strode briskly up the driveway, my heels making a tittup sound in the quiet night.

The kitchen door was unlocked, which was also unusual. I looked around the large and useless kitchen. Someone should be guarding this door, surely, with guests in the house.

I final y realized Mustapha Khan was standing at the French windows at the back of the kitchen, past the breakfast table where no one ever ate breakfast. He was looking out into the night.

“Mustapha?” I said.

The daytime man swung around. His very posture was tense. He jerked his chin at me by way of greeting. Despite the hour, Mustapha was wearing his dark glasses.

I looked around for his shadow, but there was no Warren in sight.

For the first time, I wished I knew what Mustapha was thinking—but his thoughts were as opaque as those of any Were I’d ever encountered.

My skin crawled, but I didn’t know why.

“How’s it going out there?” I asked, keeping my voice quiet.

After a pause he answered me, his own voice just as hushed. “Maybe I shoulda gotten a job with some freakin’ goblins. Or joined the pack and let Alcide boss me around. That would have been better than this. If I was you, I’d get my ass back in the car and go home. If Eric wasn’t paying me so good, that’s what I’d do.”

This was beginning to sound more and more like the beginning of a fairy tale:

FIRST MAN:Don’t cross the bridge; it’s perilous.