Charlaine Harris - Deadlocked

Eric stepped back into the bedroom, drying his face with a towel. He looked more alert, more present. He hesitated when he saw I was by myself. Eric was pretty much a stranger to relationship problems. From little clues and reminiscences he’d let drop, I’d gotten the picture that during literal y centuries of sexual adventures he’d cal ed the shots and the women had said, “Whatever you want, you big handsome Viking.” He’d had a fling or two with other vampires. Those had been more balanced connections, but brief. That was al I knew. Eric was not one to brag; he simply took sexual relationships for granted.

I was already feeling calmer. That was al to the good, since I was alone in a room with a man I’d wanted to shoot a few minutes before. Though we weren’t bonded anymore, Eric knew me wel enough to realize that he could now speak.

“It was only blood,” he said. “I was anxious and hungry, you were late, and I didn’t want to just bite into you the moment I saw you. She came in while I was waiting, and I thought I’d have a quick drink. She smel ed so intoxicating.”

“So you were trying to spare me,” I said, letting sarcasm drip off my words. “I see.” Then I made myself shut up.

“I acted impulsively.” And his mouth compressed into a straight line.

I considered him. I acted on impulse sometimes, myself. For example, the few previous times I’d been this angry or this hurt, I’d walked out of the situation—not because I wanted the last word or because I wanted to make a dramatic statement, but because I needed alone time to cool off. I took a deep breath. I looked Eric in the eye. I realized we both had to make a huge effort to move past this, at least for tonight. Without conscious thought, I had identified the subtle scent that must have screamed out at Eric’s senses.

“She’s already part Were, and she was doused in the scent of fairy blood to make you want her more,” I said. “I believe you’d have had better sense, if not for that. She was a trap. She came here because she expected to make a lot of money if you fed from her, and maybe to flirt with her death wish.”

“Can you manage to carry on with the evening as if we were in harmony?” Eric asked.

“I’l do my best,” I said, trying not to sound bitter.

“That’s al I can ask.”

“You don’t seem to have any doubt that you can cope,” I observed. But then I closed my eyes for a moment, and I used every bit of my self-control to pul myself together into a coherent person. “So if I’m here to official y greet Felipe and he’s supposed to be talking to us about the

‘disappearance’ of Victor, when’s al the whoopee out in the great room going to stop? And just so you know, I’m seriously mad about the table.”

“Me, too,” he said, with unmistakable relief. “I’l tel Felipe that we must talk tonight. Now.” He looked down at me. “My lover, don’t let your pride get the better of you.”

“Wel , me and my pride would be delighted to get back in my car and go home,” I said, struggling to keep my voice quiet. “But I guess me and my pride wil make the effort to stay here and get through this evening, if you could get everyone to stop screwing around long enough to get down to business. Or you can kiss me and my pride good-bye.”

With that, I went into the bathroom and shut the door, very quietly and deliberately. I locked it. I was through talking, at least for a while. I had to have a few seconds when no one was looking at me.

From outside the door, there was silence. I sat down on the toilet lid. I felt so ful of conflicting emotions that it was like walking through a minefield in my high-heeled black sandals with the sil y flowers on them. I looked down at my bright toenails.

“Okay,” I said to those toes. “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “You knew he took blood from other people. And you knew ‘other people’ might mean other women. And you knew that some women are younger and prettier and skinnier than you.” If I kept repeating that, it would sink in.

Good God—are “knowing” and “seeing” ever two different things!

“You also know,” I continued, “that he loves you. And you love him.” When I don’t want to yank off one of these heels and stick it … “You love him,”

I repeated sternly. “You’ve been through so much with him, and he’s proved over and over that he’l go the extra mile for you.”

He had. He had!

I told myself that about twenty times.

“So,” I said in a very reasonable voice, “Here’s a chance to rise above circumstances, to prove what you’re made of, and to help save both our lives. And that’s what I’l do, because Gran raised me right. But when this is over …” I’ll rip his damn head off. “No, I won’t,” I admonished myself.

“We’l talk about it.”

THEN I’ll rip his head off.

“Maybe,” I said, and I could feel myself smiling.

“Sookie,” Pam said from the other side of the door, “I can hear you talking to yourself. Are you ready to do this thing?”

“I am,” I said sweetly. I stood, shook myself, and practiced a smile in the mirror. It was ghastly. I unlocked the door. I tried the smile out on Pam.

Eric was standing right behind her, I guess thinking Pam would absorb the first blast if I came out shooting. “Is Felipe ready to talk?” I said.

For the first time since I’d met her, Pam looked a little uneasy as she looked at me. “Uh, yes,” she said. “He is ready for our discussion.”

“Great, let’s get going.” I maintained the smile.

Eric eyed me cautiously but didn’t say anything. Good.

“The king and his aide are out here,” Pam said. “The others have moved the party into the room across the hal .” Sure enough, I could hear squeals coming from behind the closed door.

Felipe and the square-jawed vamp—the one I’d last seen drinking from a woman—were sitting together on the couch. Eric and I took the (stained) loveseat arranged at right angles to the couch, and Pam took an armchair. The large, low coffee table (freshly gouged) that normal y held only a few objets d’art was cluttered with bottles of synthetic blood and glasses of mixed drinks, an ashtray, a cel phone, some crumpled napkins.

Instead of its normal y attractive and orderly formality, the living room looked more like it belonged in a low dive.

I’d been conditioned for so many years that it was al I could do not to spring up, tie on an apron, and fetch a tray to clear away the clutter.

“Sookie, I don’t believe you’ve met Horst Friedman,” Felipe said.

I yanked my eyes away from the mess to look at the visiting vampire. Horst had narrow eyes, and he was tal and angular. His short hair was a light brown and closely cut. He did not look as if he knew how to smile. His lips were pink and his eyes pale blue; so his coloring was oddly dainty, while his features were anything but.

“Pleased to meet you, Horst,” I said, making a huge effort to pronounce his name clearly. Horst’s nod was barely perceptible. After al , I was a human.

“Eric, I have come to your territory to discuss the disappearance of Victor, my regent,” Felipe said briskly. “He was last seen in this city, if you can cal Shreveport a city. I suspect that you had something to do with his disappearance. He was never seen after he left for a private party at your club.”

So much for any elaborate story Eric had thought of spinning for Felipe.

“I admit nothing,” Eric said calmly.

Felipe looked mildly surprised. “But you don’t deny the charge, either.”

“If I did kil him, Your Majesty,” Eric said, as if he were admitting to swatting a mosquito, “there would be not a trace of evidence against me. I regret that several of Victor’s entourage also vanished when the regent did.”