Club Dead (Sookie Stackhouse #3)(52)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"I’ll bet some vampires still do."

"Of course. There are some who still hide in the shadows and sleep in crypts every night."

(This from a guy who slept in the soil of the cemetery from time to time.)

"And other vampires helped you with this?"

"Yes," he said, sounding surprised. "Yes, a few did. Some enjoyed the exercise of memory … some used it as a reason to search for old acquaintances, travel to old haunts. I am sure that I don’t have all the vampires in America, especially the recent immigrants, but I think I have probably eighty percent of them."

"Okay, so why is the queen so anxious to have this program? Why would the other vampires want it, once they learned about it? They could assemble all the same information, right?"

"Yes," he said. "But it would be far easier to take it from me. And as for why it’s so desirable to have this program … wouldn’t you like to have a booklet that listed all the other telepaths in the United States?"

"Oh, sure," I said. "I could get lots of tips on how to handle my problem, or maybe how to use it better."

"So, wouldn’t it be good to have a directory of vampires in the United States, what they’re good at, where their gifts lie?"

"But surely some vampires really wouldn’t want to be in such a book," I said. "You’ve told me that some vamps don’t want to come out, that they want to stay in the darkness and hunt secretly."

"Exactly."

"Those vamps are in there, too?"

Bill nodded.

"Do you want to get yourself staked?"

"I never realized how tempting this project would be to anyone else. I never thought of how much power it would give to the one who owned it, until others began trying to steal it."

Bill looked glum.

The sound of shouting in the apartment next door drew our attention.

Alcide and Debbie were at it again. They were really bad for each other. But some mutual attraction kept them ricocheting back to each other. Maybe, away from Alcide, Debbie was a nice person.

Nah, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that. But maybe she was at least tolerable when Alcide’s affections weren’t an issue.

Of course they should separate. They should never be in the same room again.

And I had to take this to heart.

Look at me. Mangled, drained, staked, battered. Lying in a cold apartment in a strange city with a vampire who had betrayed me.

A big decision was standing right in front of my face, waiting to be recognized and enacted.

I shoved Bill away, and wobbled to my feet. I pulled on my stolen jacket. With his silence heavy at my back, I opened the door to the living room. Eric was listening with some amusement to the battle going on in the next apartment.

"Take me home," I said.

"Of course," he said. "Now?"

"Yes. Alcide can drop my things by when he goes back to Baton Rouge."

"Is the Lincoln drivable?"

"Oh, yes." I pulled the keys out of my pocket. "Here."

We walked out of the empty apartment and took the elevator down to the garage.

Bill didn’t follow.

Chapter Thirteen

Eric caught up with me as I was climbing into the Lincoln.

"I had to give Bill a few instructions about cleaning up the mess he caused," he said, though I didn’t ask.

Eric was used to driving sports cars, and he had a few issues with the Lincoln.

"Had it occurred to you," he said, after we’d rolled out of the city’s center, "that you tend to walk away when things between you and Bill become rocky? Not that I mind, necessarily, since I would be glad for you two to sever your association. But if this is the pattern you follow in your romantic attachments, I want to know now."

I thought of several things to say, discarded the first few, which would have blistered my grandmother’s ears, and drew a deep breath.

"Firstly, Eric, what happens between Bill and me is just none of your damn business." I let that sink in for a few seconds. "Second, my relationship with Bill is the only one I’ve ever had, so I’ve never had any idea what I’m going to do even from day to day, much less establishing a policy." I paused to work on phrasing my next idea. "Third, I’m through with you all. I’m tired of seeing all this sick stuff. I’m tired of having to be brave, and having to do things that scare me, and having to hang out with the bizarre and the supernatural. I am just a regular person, and I just want to date regular people. Or at least people who are breathing."

Eric waited to see if I’d finished. I cast a quick glance over at him, and the streetlights illuminated his strong profile with its knife-edge nose. At least he wasn’t laughing at me. He wasn’t even smiling.

He glanced at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. "I’m listening to what you say. I can tell you mean it. I’ve had your blood: I know your feelings."

A mile of darkness went by. I was pleased Eric was taking me seriously. Sometimes he didn’t; and sometimes he didn’t seem to care what he said to me.

"You are spoiled for humans," Eric said. His slight foreign accent was more apparent.

"Maybe I am. Though I don’t see that as much of a loss, since I didn’t have any luck with guys before." Hard to date, when you know exactly what your date is thinking. So much of the time, knowing a man’s exact thoughts can erase desire and even liking. "But I’d be happier with no one than I am now."

I’d been considering the old Ann Landers rule of thumb: Would I be better off with him, or without him? My grandmother and Jason and I had read Ann Landers every day when Jason and I had been growing up. We’d discussed all Ann’s responses to reader questions. A lot of the advice she’d ladled out had been intended to help women deal with guys like Jason, so he certainly brought perspective to the conversations.

Right at this moment, I was pretty darn sure I was better off without Bill. He’d used me and abused me, betrayed me and drained me.

He’d also defended me, avenged me, worshiped me with his body, and provided hours of uncritical companionship, a very major blessing.

Well, I just didn’t have my scales handy. What I had was a heart full of hurt and a way to go home. We flew through the black night, wrapped in our own thoughts. Traffic was light, but this was an interstate, so of course there were cars around us from time to time.

I had no idea what Eric was thinking about, a wonderful feeling. He might be debating pulling over to the shoulder and breaking my neck, or he might be wondering what tonight’s take at Fangtasia would add up to. I wanted him to talk to me. I wished he would tell me about his life before he became a vampire, but that’s a real touchy subject with lots of vamps, and I wasn’t about to bring it up tonight of all nights.