Dead Reckoning (Sookie Stackhouse #11)(18)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"I understand that. And I know if fangbangers don’t come to Fangtasia, they’ll go somewhere else they can hang around with vampires. But I don’t think I’d like the ambience on a day-to-day basis." I was kind of proud of myself for working in "ambience."

"What would you do, then? If Merlotte’s closed?"

That was a good question, and one I was going to have to consider seriously. I said, "I’d try to get another waitressing job, maybe at the Crawdad Diner. The tips wouldn’t be as good as at a bar, but the aggravation would be less. And maybe I’d try to take some online classes and get some kind of degree. That would be nice, to have more education."

There was a moment’s silence. "You didn’t mention contacting your great-grandfather," Eric said. "He could make sure you never wanted for anything."

"I’m not sure I could," I said, surprised. "Contact him, that is. I guess Claude would know how. In fact, I’m sure he would. But Niall made it pretty clear he thought staying in touch wouldn’t be a good idea." It was my turn to think for a second. "Eric, do you think Claude has an ulterior motive for coming to live with me?"

"Of course he does; Dermot, too," Eric said, without missing a beat. "I only wonder that you need to ask."

Not for the first time, I felt inadequate for the task of coping with my life. I fought a wave of self-pity, of bitterness, while I forced myself to examine Eric’s words. I’d suspected as much, of course, and that was why I’d asked Sam if people really changed. Claude had always been the master of selfishness, the duke of disinterest. Why would he change? Oh, sure, he missed being around other fairies, especially now that his sisters were dead. But why would he come live with someone who had as little fairy blood as I did (especially when I’d been indirectly responsible for Claudine’s death) unless he had something else on his mind?

Dermot’s motivation was just as opaque. It would be easy to assume Dermot’s character was like Jason’s because they looked so much alike, but I had learned (from bitter experience) what happened when I made assumptions. Dermot had been under a spell for a long time, a spell that had rendered him crazed, but even through the mental haze of the magic worked on him, Dermot had tried to do the right thing. At least, that was what he’d told me, and I had a little evidence that that was true.

I was still brooding over my gullibility when we took an exit ramp in the middle of nowhere. You could see the shine of the lights of Vampire’s Kiss, which of course was the point.

"Aren’t you afraid that people who would have driven on into Shreveport to go to Fangtasia are just going to pull off when they see this club?" I said.

"Yes."

I’d asked a dumb question, so I gave him some slack for being short with me. Eric must have been brooding over his financial downturn ever since Victor had bought the building. But I wasn’t prepared to give Eric any more free passes. We were a couple, and he should either share his life completely with me or let me worry about my own concerns. It wasn’t easy, being yoked to Eric. I glanced over at him, realizing how stupid that would sound to one of the Fangtasia fangbangers. Eric was certainly one of the handsomest males I’d ever seen. He was strong, intelligent, and fantastic in bed.

Right now, there lay a frosty silence between that strong, intelligent, lusty man and me, and that silence lasted until we parked. It was hard to find a spot, which made Eric even more pissed off. That wasn’t hard to tell.

Since Eric had been summoned, it would have been polite to have reserved him a parking spot by the front door . . . or given him the green light to come in by the back entrance. There was also the unavoidable lesson in pictures that Vampire’s Kiss was so busy it was hard to find a parking spot.

Ouch.

I struggled to push aside my own worries. I needed to concentrate on the troubles we were about to face. Victor didn’t like or trust Eric, and the feeling was mutual. Since Victor had been put in charge of Louisiana, Eric’s position as the only holdover from the Sophie-Anne era had become increasingly precarious. I was pretty sure I’d gotten to continue my life unmolested only because Eric had hoodwinked me into marrying him in the eyes of the vampires.

Eric, his mouth pressed into a thin line, came around to open my door. I could tell he was using the maneuver as a way to scan the parking lot for danger. He stood in such a way that his body was between me and the club, and as I swung my legs out of the Town Car, he asked, "Who’s in the parking lot, lover?"

I stood, slowly and carefully, my eyes closed to concentrate. I put my hand over his where it rested on the door frame. In the warm night, with a light wind gently riffling my hair, I sent my extra sense out. "A couple having sex in a car two rows away," I whispered. "A man throwing up behind the black pickup on the other side of the parking lot. Two couples just pulling in, in an Escalade. One vampire by the door to the club. Another vampire closing fast."

When vamps go on alert, there’s no mistaking it. Eric’s fangs ran out, his body tensed, and he whirled to look outward.

Pam said, "Master." She stepped out of the shadow of a big SUV. Eric relaxed; and so, gradually, did I. Whatever had made the two fight at my house, it had been put aside for the evening.

"I came ahead as you bid me," she murmured, the night wind picking up her voice and tossing it. Her face looked oddly dark.

"Pam, step into the light," I said.

She did, though certainly she was not obliged to obey me.

The darkness under Pam’s white skin was the result of a beating. Vampires don’t bruise exactly like we do, and they heal quickly–but when they’ve been hit hard, you can tell it for a little while. "What happened to you?" Eric asked. His voice was completely empty, which I knew was an awfully bad thing.

"I told the door guards that I needed to come in to make sure Victor knew you were arriving. An excuse to make sure that the interior was secure."

"They prevented you."

"Yes."

A little breeze had sprung up, dancing the night air across the smelly parking lot. The breeze picked up my hair and blew it around my face. Eric had his tied at the nape of his neck, but Pam reached up to hold hers back. Eric had wished Victor dead for months, and I was sorry to say I felt the same. It wasn’t only Eric’s worry and anger that I was channeling; I myself understood how much better life would be for us if Victor was gone.

I’d come so far from what I’d been. At moments like this I was both sad and relieved that I could think about Victor’s death not only without qualms, but with positive zeal. My determination to survive, and to ensure the survival of those I loved, was stronger than the religion I’d always held so dear.