Dead to the World (Sookie Stackhouse #4)(48)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"We need to know what they plan to do, if they’ll share that with us," Colonel Flood said. "If they’re not with us, they can at least stay out of the way."

"So, we’re going to war?" This was from an older man, who seemed to be a pair with the red-haired woman.

"It was the vampires that started it," the redheaded woman said.

"That is so untrue," I said indignantly.

"Vamp humper," she said.

I’d had worse things said about me, but not to my face, and not from people who intended me to hear them.

Eric had left the floor before I could decide if I was more hurt or more enraged. He had instantly opted for enraged, and it made him very effective. She was on the ground on her back and he was on top of her with fangs extended before anyone could even be alarmed. It was lucky for the red-haired woman that Pam and Gerald were equally swift, though it took both of them to lift Eric off the redheaded Were. She was bleeding only a little, but she was yelping nonstop.

For a long second, I thought the whole room was going to erupt into battle, but Colonel Flood roared, "SILENCE!" and you didn’t disobey that voice.

"Amanda," he said to the red-haired woman, who was whimpering as though Eric had removed a limb, and whose companion was busy checking out her injuries in a wholly unnecessary panic, "you will be polite to our allies, and you will keep your damn opinions to yourself. Your offense cancels out the blood he spilled. No retaliation, Parnell!" The male Were snarled at the colonel, but finally gave a grudging nod.

"Miss Stackhouse, I apologize for the poor manners of the pack," Colonel Flood said to me. Though I was still upset, I made myself nod. I couldn’t help but notice that Alcide was looking from me to Eric, and he looked – well, he looked appalled. Sam had the sense to be quite expressionless. My back stiffened, and I ran a quick hand over my eyes to dash away the tears.

Eric was calming down, but it was with an effort. Pam was murmuring in his ear, and Gerald was keeping a good grip on his arm.

To make my evening perfect, the back door to Merlotte’s opened once again, and Debbie Pelt walked in.

"Y’all are having a party without me." She looked at the odd assemblage and raised her eyebrows. "Hey, baby," she said directly to Alcide, and ran a possessive hand down his arm, twining her fingers with his. Alcide had an odd expression on his face. It was as though he was simultaneously happy and miserable.

Debbie was a striking woman, tall and lean, with a long face. She had black hair, but it wasn’t curly and disheveled like Alcide’s. It was cut in asymmetrical tiny clumps, and it was straight and swung with her movement. It was the dumbest haircut I’d ever seen, and it had undoubtedly cost an arm and a leg. Somehow, men didn’t seem to be interested in her haircut.

It would have been hypocritical of me to greet her. Debbie and I were beyond that. She’d tried to kill me, a fact that Alcide knew; and yet she still seemed to exercise some fascination for him, though he’d thrown her out when he first learned of it. For a smart and practical and hardworking man, he had a great big blind spot, and here it was, in tight Cruel Girl jeans and a thin orange sweater that hugged every inch of skin. What was she doing here, so far from her own stomping grounds?

I felt a sudden impulse to turn to Eric and tell him that Debbie had made a serious attempt on my life, just to see what would happen. But I restrained myself yet again. All this restraint was plain painful. My fingers were curled under, transforming my hands into tight fists.

"We’ll call you if anything more happens in this meeting," Gerald said. It took me a minute to understand I was being dismissed, and that it was because I had to take Eric back to my house lest he erupt again. From the look on his face, it wouldn’t take much. His eyes were glowing blue, and his fangs were at least half extended. I was more than ever tempted to… no, I was not. I would leave.

"Bye, bitch," Debbie said, as I went out the door. I caught a glimpse of Alcide turning to her, his expression appalled, but Pam grabbed me by the arm and hustled me out into the parking lot. Gerald had a hold of Eric, which was a good thing, too.

As the two vampires handed us out to Chow, I was seething.

Chow thrust Eric into the passenger’s seat, so it appeared I was the designated driver. The Asian vamp said, "We’ll call you later, go home," and I was about to snap back at him. But I glanced over at my passenger and decided to be smart instead and get out of there quickly. Eric’s belligerence was dissolving into a muddle. He looked confused and lost, as unlike the hair-trigger avenger he’d been only a few minutes before as you can imagine.

We were halfway home before Eric said anything. "Why are vampires so hated by Weres?" he asked.

"I don’t know," I answered, slowing down because two deer bounded across the road. You see the first one, you always wait: There’ll be another one, most often. "Vamps feel the same about Weres and shifters. The supernatural community seems to band together against humans, but other than that, you guys squabble a lot, at least as far as I can tell." I took a deep breath and considered phraseology. "Um, Eric, I appreciate your taking my part, when that Amanda called me a name. But I’m pretty used to speaking up for myself when I think it’s called for. If I were a vampire, you wouldn’t feel you had to hit people on my behalf, right?"

"But you’re not as strong as a vampire, not even as strong as a Were," Eric objected.

"No argument there, honey. But I also wouldn’t have even thought of hitting her, because that would give her a reason to hit me back."

"You’re saying I made it come to blows when I didn’t need to."

"That’s exactly what I’m saying."

"I embarrassed you."

"No," I said instantly. Then I wondered if that wasn’t exactly the case. "No," I repeated with more conviction, "you didn’t embarrass me. Actually, it made me feel good, that you felt, ah, fond enough of me to be angry when Amanda acted like I was something stuck to her shoe. But I’m used to that treatment, and I can handle it. Though Debbie’s taking it to a whole different level."

The new, thoughtful Eric gave that a mental chewing over.

"Why are you used to that?" he asked.

It wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. By that time we were at the house, and I checked out the surrounding clearing before I got out of the car to unlock the back door. When we were safely inside with the dead bolt shot, I said, "Because I’m used to people not thinking much of barmaids. Uneducated barmaids. Uneducated telepathic barmaids. I’m used to people thinking I’m crazy, or at least off mentally. I’m not trying to sound like I think I’m Poor Pitiful Pearl, but I don’t have a lot of fans, and I’m used to that."