Dead Until Dark (Sookie Stackhouse #1)(53)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"Pam, get out of the way," I said, quietly but sharply. Once Pam was distracted from her own blood lust, she evaluated the situation in one glance. She swung open the office door and propelled Belinda through it, stood beside it to usher us out. "Call Ginger," I suggested, and the sense of what I was saying penetrated Pam’s fog of desire. "Ginger," she called hoarsely, and the blond girl stumbled from a door down the hall. "Eric wants you," Pam told her. Ginger’s face lit up like she had a date with David Duchovny, and she was in the room and rubbing against Eric almost as fast as a vampire could have. As if he’d woken from a spell, Eric looked down at Ginger when she ran her hands up his chest. As he bent to kiss her, Eric looked at me over her head. "I’ll see you again," he said, and I pulled Bill out the door as quick as a wink. Bill didn’t want to go. It was like trying to tow a log. But once we were out in the hall he seemed to be a little more aware of the need to get out of there, and we hurried from Fangtasia and got into Bill’s car.

I looked down at myself. I was bloodstained and wrinkled, and I smelled funny. Yuck. I looked over at Bill to share my disgust with him, but he was looking at me in an unmistakable way.

"No," I said forcefully. "You start this car and get out of here before anything else happens, Bill Compton. I tell you flat, I’m not in the mood."

He scooted across the seat toward me, his arms scooping me up before I could say anything else. Then his mouth was on mine, and after a second his tongue began licking the blood from my face.

I was really scared. I was also really angry. I grabbed his ears and pulled his head away from mine using every ounce of strength I possessed, which happened to be more than I thought I had.

His eyes were still like caves with ghosts dwelling in their depths.

"Bill!" I shrieked. I shook him. "Snap out of it!"

Slowly, his personality seeped back into his eyes. He drew a shuddering sigh. He kissed me lightly on the lips.

"Okay, can we go home now?" I asked, ashamed that my voice was so quavery.

"Sure," he said, sounding none too steady himself.

"Was that like sharks scenting blood?" I asked, after a fifteen-minute silent drive that almost had us out of Shreveport.

"Good analogy."

He didn’t need to apologize. He’d been doing what nature dictated, as least as natural as vampires got. He didn’t bother to. I would kind of liked to have heard an apology.

"So, am I in trouble?" I asked finally. It was two in the morning, and I found the question didn’t bother me as much as it should have.

"Eric will hold you to your word," Bill said. "As to whether he will leave you alone personally, I don’t know. I wish…" but his voice trailed off. It was the first time I’d heard Bill wish for anything.

"Sixty thousand dollars isn’t a lot of money to a vampire, surely," I observed. "You all seem to have plenty of money."

"Vampires rob their victims, of course," Bill said matter-of-factly. "Early on, we take the money from the corpse. Later, when we’re more experienced, we can exert enough control to persuade a human to give us money willingly, then forget it’s been done. Some of us hire money managers, some of us go into real estate, some of us live on the interest from our investments. Eric and Pam went in together on the bar. Eric put up most of the money, Pam the rest. They had known Long Shadow for a hundred years, and they hired him to be bartender. He betrayed them."

"Why would he steal from them?"

"He must have had some venture he needed the capital for," Bill said absently. "And he was in a mainstreaming position. He couldn’t just go out and kill a bank manager after hypnotizing him and persuading the man to give him the money. So he took it from Eric."

"Wouldn’t Eric have loaned it to him?"

"If Long Shadow hadn’t been too proud to ask, yes," Bill said.

We had another long silence. Finally I said, "I always think of vampires as smarter than humans, but they’re not, huh?"

"Not always," he agreed.

When we reached the outskirts of Bon Temps, I asked Bill to drop me off at home. He looked sideways at me, but didn’t say anything. Maybe vampires were smarter than humans, after all.

Chapter 10

T HE NEXT DAY, when I was getting ready for work, I realized I was definitely off vampires for a while. Even Bill.

I was ready to remind myself I was a human.

The trouble was, I had to notice that I was a changed human.

It wasn’t anything major. After the first infusion of Bill’s blood on the night the Rats had beaten me, I’d felt healed, healthy, stronger. But not markedly different. Maybe more – well, sexier.

After my second draft of Bill’s blood, I’d felt really strong, and I’d been braver because I’d had more confidence. I felt more secure in my sexuality and its power. It seemed apparent I was handling my disability with more aplomb and capability.

I’d had Long Shadow’s blood by accident. The next morning, looking in the mirror, my teeth were whiter and sharper. My hair looked lighter and livelier, and my eyes were brighter. I looked like a poster girl for good hygiene, or some healthy cause like taking vitamins or drinking milk. The savage bite on my arm (Long Shadow’s last bite on this earth, I realized) was not completely healed, but it was well on its way.

Then my purse spilled as I picked it up, and my change rolled under the couch. I held up the end of the couch with one hand while with the other I retrieved the coins.

Whoa.

I straightened and took a deep breath. At least the sunlight didn’t hurt my eyes, and I didn’t want to bite everyone I saw. I’d enjoyed my breakfast toast, rather than longing for tomato juice. I wasn’t turning into a vampire. Maybe I was sort of an enhanced human?

Life had sure been simpler when I hadn’t dated.

When I got to Merlotte’s, everything was ready except for slicing the lemons and limes. We served the fruit both with mixed drinks and with tea, and I got out the cutting board and a sharp knife. Lafayette was tying on his apron as I got the lemons from the big refrigerator.

"You highlighted your hair, Sookie?"

I shook my head. Under the enveloping white apron, Lafayette was a symphony of color; he was wearing a fuschia thin-strap tee, dark purple jeans, red thong sandals, and he had sort of raspberry eye shadow on.

"It sure looks lighter," he said skeptically, raising his own plucked brows.

"I’ve been out in the sun a lot," I assured him. Dawn had never gotten along with Lafayette, whether because he was black or because he was g*y, I didn’t know … maybe both. Arlene and Charlsie just accepted the cook, but didn’t go out of their ways to be friendly. But I’d always kind of liked Lafayette because he conducted what had to be a tough life with verve and grace.