Definitely Dead (Sookie Stackhouse #6)(10)
Author: Charlaine Harris

She was frozen for a long moment. "There’s a box in my food," she said, finally, keeping her voice very low because she thought she’d upset Sam if she made a fuss.

"I know," he said. "It’s from me."

She knew then; everything in her brain began to accelerate, and the thoughts practically tripped over themselves in their eagerness.

"Oh, Andy," she whispered. She must have opened the box. It was all I could do not to turn around and look right along with her.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes, it’s beautiful."

"Will you wear it?"

There was a silence. Her head was so confused. Half of it was going "Yippee!" and half of it was troubled.

"Yes, with one stipulation," she said slowly.

I could feel his shock. Whatever Andy had expected, it wasn’t this.

"And that would be?" he asked, suddenly sounding much more like a cop than a lover.

"We have to live in our own place."

"What?" Again, she’d surprised Andy.

"I’ve always gotten the idea that you assumed you’d stay in the family home, with your grandmother and your sister, even after you got married. It’s a wonderful old house, and your grandmother and Portia are great women."

That was tactful. Good for Halleigh.

"But I’d like to have a home of my own," she said gently, earning my admiration.

And then I really had to haul ass; I had tables to tend to. But as I refilled beer mugs, cleared empty plates, and took more money to Sam at the cash register, I was filled with awe at Halleigh’s stand, since the Bellefleur mansion was Bon Temps’s premier residence. Most young women would give a finger or two to live there, especially since the big old house had been extensively remodeled and freshened with the influx of money from a mysterious stranger. That stranger was actually Bill, who’d discovered that the Bellefleurs were descendants of his. He’d known they wouldn’t accept money from a vampire, so he’d arranged the whole "mysterious legacy" ruse, and Caroline Bellefleur had jumped into spending it on the mansion with as much relish as Andy ate a cheeseburger.

Andy caught up with me a few minutes later. He snagged me on the way to Sid Matt Lancaster’s table, so the aged lawyer had to wait a bit extra for his hamburger and fries.

"Sookie, I have to know," he said urgently, but in a very low tone.

"What, Andy?" I was alarmed at his intensity.

"Does she love me?" There were edges of humiliation in his head, that he’d actually asked me. Andy was proud, and he wanted some kind of assurance that Halleigh didn’t want his family name or his family home as he’d found other women had. Well, he’d found out about the home. Halleigh didn’t want it, and he would move into some humble, small house with her, if she really loved him.

No one had ever demanded this of me before. After all the years of wanting people to believe in me, understand my freakish talent, I found I didn’t enjoy being taken seriously, after all. But Andy was waiting for an answer, and I couldn’t refuse. He was one of the most dogged men I’d ever met.

"She loves you as much as you love her," I said, and he let go of my arm. I continued on my way to Sid Matt’s table. When I glanced back at him, he was staring at me.

Chew on that, Andy Bellefleur, I thought. Then I felt a little ashamed of myself. But he shouldn’t have asked, if he didn’t want to know the answer.

There was something in the woods around my house.

I’d gotten ready for bed as soon as I’d come home, because one of my favorite moments in every twenty-four hours is when I get to put on my nightgown. It was warm enough that I didn’t need a bathrobe, so I was roaming around in my old blue knee-length sleep tee. I was just thinking of shutting the kitchen window, since the March night was getting a little chilly. I’d been listening to the sounds of the night while I washed dishes; the frogs and the bugs had been filling the air with their chorus.

Suddenly, the noises that had made the night seem as friendly and busy as the day had come to a stop, cut off in midcry.

I paused, my hands immersed in the hot soapy water. Peering out into the darkness didn’t help a bit, and I realized how visible I must be, standing at an open window with its curtains flung wide apart. The yard was lit up with the security light, but beyond the trees that ringed the clearing, the woods lay dark and still.

Something was out there. I closed my eyes and tried to reach out with my brain, and I found some kind of activity. But it wasn’t clear enough to define.

I thought about phoning Bill, but I’d called him before when I’d been worried about my safety. I couldn’t let it become a habit. Hey, maybe the watcher in the woods was Bill himself? He sometimes roamed around at night, and he came to check on me from time to time. I looked longingly over at the telephone on the wall at the end of the counter. (Well, where the counter would be when it was all put together.) My new telephone was portable. I could grab it, retreat to my bedroom, and call Bill in a snap of the fingers, since he was on my speed dial. If he answered the phone, I’d know whatever was out in the woods was something I needed to worry about.

But if he was home, he’d come racing over here. He’d hear my call like this: "Oh, Bill, please come save me! I can’t think of anything to do but call a big, strong vampire to come to my rescue!"

I made myself admit that I really knew that whatever was in the woods, it wasn’t Bill. I’d gotten a brain signal of some kind. If the lurker had been a vampire, I would have sensed nothing. Only twice had I gotten a flicker of a signal from a vampire brain, and it had been like a flash of electricity in an outage.

And right by that telephone was the back door – which wasn’t locked.

Nothing on earth could keep me at the sink after the fact of the open door had occurred to me. I simply ran for it. I stepped out onto the back porch, nipped the latch on the glass door there, and jumped back into the kitchen proper and locked the big wooden door, which I’d had outfitted with a thumb latch and a deadbolt.

I leaned against the door after it was safely locked. Better than anyone I could think of, I knew the futility of doors and locks. To a vampire, the physical barrier was nothing – but a vampire had to be invited in. To a Were, doors were of more consequence, but still not much of a problem; with their incredible strength, Weres could go wherever they damn well chose. The same held true of other shifters.

Why didn’t I just hold an open house?

However, I felt wonderfully better with two locked doors between me and whatever was in the woods. I knew the front door was locked and bolted, since it hadn’t been opened in days. I didn’t get that many visitors, and I normally entered and departed through the back.