From Dead to Worse (Sookie Stackhouse #8)(13)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"And how long has it been since you’ve seen him?"

"Since Rhodes."

"How long has it been since you heard from him?"

"Since Rhodes." My voice was wooden. I was unwilling to talk to Eric about this, but we had shared blood often enough to have a much stronger tie than I liked. In fact, I loathed our bond, one we’d been compelled to forge. But when I heard his voice, I felt content. When I was with him, I felt beautiful and happy. And there was nothing I could do about it.

"I think you can give me one evening," Eric said. "It doesn’t sound as though Quinn has you booked."

"That was mean."

"It’s Quinn who’s cruel, promising you he’d be here and then not keeping his word." There was a dark element in Eric’s voice, an undertone of anger.

"Do you know what’s happened to him?" I asked. "Do you know where he is?"

There was a significant silence. "No," Eric said very gently. "I don’t know. But there is someone in town who wants to meet you. I promised I would arrange it. I’d like to take you to Shreveport myself."

So this wasn’t a date date.

"You mean that guy Jonathan? He came to the wedding and introduced himself. I’ve got to say, I didn’t much care for the guy. No offense, if he’s a friend of yours."

"Jonathan? What Jonathan?"

"I’m talking about the Asian guy; he’s maybe Thai? He was at the Bellefleur wedding last night. He said he wanted to see me because he was staying in Shreveport and he’d heard a lot about me. He said he’d checked in with you, like a good little visiting vampire."

"I don’t know him," Eric said. His voice was much sharper. "I’ll ask here at Fangtasia to see if anyone has seen him. And I’ll prompt the queen about your money, though she is… not herself. Now, will you please do what I’m asking you to do?"

I made a face at the telephone. "I guess," I said. "Who’m I meeting? And where?"

"I’ll have to let the ‘who’ remain a mystery," Eric said. "As to where, we’ll go to dinner at a nice restaurant. The kind you’d call casual dressy."

"You don’t eat. What will you do?"

"I’ll introduce you and stay as long as you need me to."

A crowded restaurant should be all right. "Okay," I said, not very graciously. "I’ll get off work about six or six thirty."

"I’ll be there to pick you up at seven."

"Give me till seven thirty. I need to change." I knew I sounded grumpy, and that was exactly how I felt. I hated the big mystery around this meeting.

"You’ll feel better when you see me," he said. Dammit, he was absolutely right.

Chapter 4

I checked my Word of the Day calendar while I was waiting for my hair-straightening iron to heat up. "Epicene." Huh.

Since I didn’t know what restaurant we were going to, and I didn’t know who we’d meet there, I picked my most comfortable option and wore a sky blue silk T-shirt that Amelia had said was too big for her, and some black dress slacks with black heels. I don’t wear a lot of jewelry, so a gold chain and some little gold earrings did the decorating for me. I’d had a tough day at work, but I was too curious about the evening ahead to feel tired.

Eric was on time, and I felt (surprise) a rush of pleasure when I saw him. I don’t think that was entirely due to the blood bond between us. I think any heterosexual woman would feel a rush of pleasure at the sight of Eric. He was a tall man and must have been seen as a giant in his time. He was built to swing a heavy sword to hew down his enemies. Eric’s golden blond hair sprang back like a lion’s mane from a bold forehead. There was nothing epicene about Eric, nothing ethereally beautiful, either. He was all male.

Eric bent to kiss me on the cheek. I felt warm and safe. This was the effect Eric had on me now that we’d swapped blood more than three times. The blood sharing hadn’t been for pleasure but a necessity – at least I’d thought so – every time, but the price I paid was steep. We were bonded now, and when he was near, I was absurdly happy. I tried to enjoy the sensation, but knowing it wasn’t completely natural made that hard to do.

Since Eric had come in his Corvette, I was extra glad I’d worn pants. Getting into and out of a Corvette modestly was a very difficult procedure if you were wearing a dress. I made small talk on the way to Shreveport, but Eric was uncharacteristically silent. I tried to question him about Jonathan, the mysterious vampire at the wedding, but Eric said, "We’ll talk about that later. You haven’t seen him again, have you?"

"No," I said. "Should I expect to?"

Eric shook his head. There was an uncomfortable pause. From the way he was gripping the wheel, I could tell that Eric was building up to saying something he didn’t want to say.

"I’m glad for your sake that it appears Andre didn’t survive the bombing," he said.

The queen’s dearest child, Andre, had died in the bombing in Rhodes. But it hadn’t been the bomb that had killed him. Quinn and I knew what had done the deed: a big splinter of wood that Quinn had driven into Andre’s heart while the vampire lay disabled. Quinn had killed Andre for my sake, because he knew Andre had plans for me that made me sick with fear.

"I’m sure the queen will miss him," I said carefully.

Eric shot me a sharp glance. "The queen is distraught," he said. "And her healing will take months more. What I was beginning to say…" His voice trailed off.

This wasn’t like Eric. "What?" I demanded.

"You saved my life," he said. I’d turned to look at him, but he was looking straight ahead at the road. "You saved my life, and Pam’s, too."

I shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well." Miss Articulate. The silence lengthened until I felt I had to say something else. "We do have the blood tie thing going."

Eric didn’t respond for a stretch of time. "That’s not why you came to wake me, first of all, the day the hotel blew up," he said. "But we won’t talk further about this now. You have a big evening ahead."

Yes, boss, I said snippily, but only to myself.

We were in a part of Shreveport I didn’t know too well. It was definitely out of the main shopping area, with which I was fairly familiar. We were in a neighborhood where the houses were large and the lawns were groomed. The businesses were small and pricey… what retailers called "boutiques." We pulled into a group of such shops. It was arranged in an L, and the restaurant was at the rear of the L. It was called Les Deux Poissons. There were maybe eight cars parked there, and each one of them represented my yearly income. I looked down at my clothes, feeling suddenly uneasy.