Dead to the World (Sookie Stackhouse #4)(59)
Author: Charlaine Harris

Since the same thought had occurred to me, though I’d discarded it pretty quickly, I couldn’t protest; but I could feel myself turning red.

"We need to get in the car," I told Eric, turning to catch a glimpse of his face. It was rock hard and expressionless, which usually signaled he was in a dangerous state of mind. But he came with me when I moved toward the door, and the whole house slowly emptied its inhabitants into the narrow suburban street. I wondered what the neighbors thought. Of course, they knew the house was inhabited by vampires – no one around during the day, all the yard work done by human hirelings, the people who came and went at night being so very pale. This sudden activity had to invite neighborhood attention.

I drove in silence, Eric beside me on the front seat. Every now and then he reached over to touch me. I don’t know who Bill had caught a ride with, but I was glad it wasn’t me. The testosterone level would have been too high in the car, and I might have smothered.

Bubba was sitting in the backseat, humming to himself. It sounded like "Love Me Tender."

"This is a crappy car," Eric said, out of the blue, as far as I was concerned.

"Yes," I agreed.

"Are you afraid?"

"I am."

"If this whole thing works, will you still see me?"

"Sure," I said, to make him happy. I was convinced that after this confrontation, nothing would be the same. But without the true Eric’s conviction of his own prowess and intelligence and ruthlessness, this Eric was pretty shaky. He’d be up for the actual battle, but right now he needed a boost.

Pam had plotted out where everyone should park, to prevent Hallow’s coven from becoming alarmed by the sudden appearance of a lot of cars. We had a map with our spot marked on it. That turned out to be an E-Z Mart on the corner of a couple of larger roads in a down-sliding area that was changing over from residential to commercial. We parked in the most out-of-the-way corner the E-Z Mart afforded. Without further discussion, we set out to our appointed locations.

About half the houses on the quiet street had real-estate signs in the front lawn, and the ones that remained in private hands were not well maintained. Cars were as battered as mine, and big bare patches indicated that the grass wasn’t fertilized or watered in the summer. Every lighted window seemed to show the flickering of a television screen.

I was glad it was winter so the people who lived here were all inside. Two white vampires and a blond woman would excite comment, if not aggression, in this neighborhood. Plus, one of the vampires was pretty recognizable, despite the rigors of his changeover – which was why Bubba was almost always kept out of sight.

Soon we were at the corner where Eric was supposed to part from us so he could rendezvous with the other vampires. I would have continued on to my appointed post without a word; by now I was keyed up to such a pitch of tension I felt I could vibrate if you tapped me with a finger. But Eric wasn’t content with a silent separation. He gripped my arms and kissed me for all he was worth, and believe me, that was plenty.

Bubba made a sound of disapproval. "You’re not supposed to be kissing on anybody else, Miss Sookie," he said. "Bill said it was okay, but I don’t like it."

After one more second, Eric released me. "I’m sorry if we offended you," he said coldly. He looked back down at me. "I’ll see you later, my lover," he said very quietly.

I laid my hand against his cheek. "Later," I said, and I turned and walked away with Bubba at my heels.

"You ain’t mad at me, are you, Miss Sookie?" he asked anxiously.

"No," I said. I made myself smile at him, since I knew he could see me far more clearly than I could see him. It was a cold night, and though I was wearing my coat, it didn’t seem to be as warm as it used to be. My bare hands were quivering with cold, and my nose felt numb. I could just detect a whiff of wood smoke from a fireplace, and automobile exhaust, and gasoline, and oil, and all the other car odors that combine to make City Smell.

But there was another smell permeating the neighborhood, an aroma that indicated this neighborhood was contaminated by more than urban blight. I sniffed, and the odor curled through the air in almost visible flourishes. After a moment’s thought, I realized this must be the smell of magic, thick and stomach-clenching. Magic smells like I imagine a bazaar in some exotic foreign country might. It reeks of the strange, the different. The scent of a lot of magic can be quite overwhelming. Why weren’t the residents complaining to the police about it? Couldn’t everyone pick up on that odor?

"Bubba, do you smell something unusual?" I asked in a very low voice. A dog or two barked as we walked past in the black night, but they quickly quieted when they caught the scent of vampire. (To them, I guess, Bubba was the something unusual.) Dogs are almost always frightened of vampires, though their reaction to Weres and shifters is more unpredictable.

I found myself convinced I wanted nothing more than to go back to the car and leave. It was a conscious effort to make my feet move in the correct direction.

"Yeah, I sure do," he whispered back. "Someone’s been laying some spells. Stay-away magic." I didn’t know if the Wiccans on our side, or the witches on Hallow’s, had been responsible for this pervasive piece of craft, but it was effective.

The night seemed almost unnaturally silent. Maybe three cars passed us as we walked the maze of suburban streets. Bubba and I saw no other pedestrians, and the sense of ominous isolation grew. The stay-away intensified as we came closer to what we were supposed to stay away from.

The darkness between the pools of light below the street-lamps seemed darker, and the light didn’t seem to reach as far. When Bubba took my hand, I didn’t pull away. My feet seemed to drag at each step.

I’d caught a whiff of this smell before, at Fangtasia. Maybe the Were tracker had had an easier job than I’d thought.

"We’re there, Miss Sookie," Bubba said, his voice just a quiet thread in the night. We’d come around a corner. Since I knew there was a spell, and I knew I could keep walking, I did; but if I’d been a resident of the area, I would have found an alternative route, and I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. The impulse to avoid this spot was so strong that I wondered if the people who lived on this block had been able to come home from their jobs. Maybe they were eating out, going to movies, drinking in bars – anything to avoid returning to their homes. Every house on the street looked suspiciously dark and untenanted.

Across the road, and at the opposite end of the block, was the center of the magic.

Hallow’s coven had found a good place to hole up: a business up for lease, a large building that had held a combination florist shop-bakery. Minnie’s Flowers and Cakes stood in a lonely position, the largest store in a strip of three that had, one by one, faded and gone out like flames on a candelabra. The building had apparently been empty for years. The big plate-glass windows were plastered with posters for events long past and political candidates long since defeated. Plywood nailed over the glass doors was proof that vandals had broken in more than once.