Dead as a Doornail (Sookie Stackhouse #5)(51)
Author: Charlaine Harris

Tara left after another hug. She even managed a little smile, but I didn’t know how justified her flash of optimism might be.

There was only one thing I could do.

The next night I’d be working. It was full dark by now, and he’d be up.

I had to call Eric.

Chapter 13

"FANGTASIA,"SAID A bored feminine voice. "Where all your bloody dreams come true."

"Pam, it’s Sookie."

"Oh, hello," she said more cheerfully. "I hear you’re in even more trouble. Got your house burned. You won’t live much longer if you keep that up."

"No, maybe not," I agreed. "Listen, is Eric there?"

"Yes, he’s in his office."

"Can you transfer me to him?"

"I don’t know how," she said disdainfully.

"Could you take the phone to him, please, ma’am?"

"Of course. Something always happens around here after you call. It’s quite the break in routine." Pam was carrying the phone through the bar; I could tell by the change in the ambient noise. There was music in the background. KDED again: "The Night Has a Thousand Eyes" this time. "What’s happening in Bon Temps, Sookie?" Pam asked, saying in a clear aside to some bar patron, "Step aside, you son of a misbegotten whore!

"They like that kind of talk," she said to me conversationally. "Now, what’s up?"

"I got shot."

"Oh, too bad," she said. "Eric, do you know what Sookie is telling me? Someone shot her."

"Don’t get so emotional, Pam," I said. "Someone might think you care."

She laughed. "Here is the man," she said.

Sounding just as matter-of-fact as Pam had, Eric said, "It can’t be critical or you wouldn’t be talking to me."

This was true, though I would have enjoyed a more horrified reaction. But this was no time to think of little issues. I took a deep breath. I knew, sure as shooting, what was coming, but I had to help Tara. "Eric," I said with a feeling of doom, "I need a favor."

"Really?" he said. Then, after a notable pause, "Really?"

He began to laugh.

"Gotcha," he said.

He arrived at the duplex an hour later and paused on the doorsill after I’d responded to his knock. "New building," he reminded me.

"You are welcome to come in," I said insincerely, and he stepped in, his white face practically blazing with – triumph? Excitement? Eric’s hair was wet with rain and straggled over his shoulders in rattails. He was wearing a golden brown silk T-shirt and brown pleated trousers with a magnificent belt that was just barbaric: lots of leather, and gold, and dangling tassels. You can take the man out of the Viking era, but you can’t take the Viking out of the man.

"Can I get you a drink?" I said. "I’m sorry, I don’t have any TrueBlood, and I’m not supposed to drive, so I couldn’t go get any." I knew that was a big breach of hospitality, but there was nothing I could do about it. I hadn’t been about to ask anyone to bring me blood for Eric.

"Not important," he said smoothly, looking around the small room.

"Please sit down."

Eric said onto the couch, his right ankle on the knee of his left leg. His big hands were restless. "What’s the favor you need, Sookie?" He was openly gleeful.

I sighed. At least I was pretty sure he’d help, since he could practically taste the leverage he’d have over me.

I perched on the edge of the lumpy armchair. I explained about Tara, about Franklin, about Mickey. Eric got serious in a hurry. "She could leave during the day and she doesn’t," he pointed out.

"Why should she leave her business and her home? He’s the one should leave," I argued. (Though I have to confess, I’d wondered to myself why Tara didn’t just take a vacation. Surely Mickey wouldn’t stick around too long if his free ride was gone?) "Tara would be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life if she tried to shake him loose by running," I said firmly.

"I’ve learned more about Franklin since I met him in Mississippi," Eric said. I wondered if Eric had learned this from Bill’s database. "Franklin has an outdated mind-set."

This was rich, coming from a Viking warrior whose happiest days had been spent pillaging and raping and laying waste.

"Vampires used to pass willing humans around," Eric explained. "When our existence was secret, it was convenient to have a human lover, to maintain that person… that is, not to take too much blood… and then, when there was no one left who wanted her – or him," Eric added hastily, so my feminist side would not be offended, "that person would be, ah, completely used."

I was disgusted and showed it. "You mean drained," I said.

"Sookie, you have to understand that for hundreds, thousands, of years we have considered ourselves better than humans, separate from humans." He thought for a second. "Very much in the same relationship to humans as humans have to, say, cows. Edible like cows, but cute, too."

I was knocked speechless. I had sensed this, of course, but to have it spelled out was just… nauseating. Food that walked and talked, that was us. McPeople.

"I’ll just go to Bill. He knows Tara, and she rents her business premises from him, so I bet he’ll feel obliged to help her," I said furiously.

"Yes. He’d be obliged to try to kill Salome’s underling. Bill doesn’t rank any higher than Mickey, so he can’t order him to leave. Who do you think would survive the fight?"

The idea paralyzed me for a minute. I shuddered. What if Mickey won?

"No, I’m afraid I’m your best hope here, Sookie." Eric gave me a brilliant smile. "I’ll talk to Salome and ask her to call her dog off. Franklin is not her child, but Mickey is. Since he’s been poaching in my area, she’ll be obliged to recall him."

He raised a blond eyebrow. "And since you’re asking me to do this for you, of course, you owe me."

"Gosh, I wonder what you want in return?" I asked, maybe a little on the dry and sarcastic side.

He grinned at me broadly, giving me a flash of fang. "Tell me what happened while I was staying with you. Tell me completely, leaving out nothing. After that, I’ll do what you want." He put both feet on the floor and leaned forward, focused on me.

"All right." Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. I looked down at my hands clasped in my lap.

"Did we have sex?" he asked directly.

For about two minutes, this might actually be fun. "Eric," I said, "we had sex in every position I could imagine, and some I couldn’t. We had sex in every room in my house, and we had sex outdoors. You told me it was the best you’d ever had." (At the time he couldn’t recall all the sex he’d ever had. But he’d paid me a compliment.) "Too bad you can’t remember it," I concluded with a modest smile.