Dead until Dark

The humans were less impressive. The woman was blond and plump, thirty-five or older. She was wearing maybe a pound too much makeup. She looked as worn as an old boot. The man was another story. He was lovely, the prettiest man I'd ever seen. He couldn't have been more than twenty-one. He was swarthy, maybe Hispanic, small and fine-boned. He wore denim cut-offs and nothing else. Except for makeup. I took that in my stride, but I didn't find it appealing.

Then Bill moved and I saw him, standing in the shadows of the dark hall leading from the living room to the back of the house. I looked at him, trying to get my bearings in this unexpected situation. To my dismay, he didn't look at all reassuring. His face was very still, absolutely impenetrable. Though I couldn't believe I was even thinking it, it would have been great at that point to have had a peek into his mind.

"Well, we can have a wonderful evening now," the long­haired male vampire said. He sounded delighted. "Is this a little friend of yours, Bill? She's so fresh."

I thought of a few choice words I'd learned from Jason.

"If you'll just excuse me and Bill a minute," I said very politely, as if this was a perfectly normal evening, "I've been arranging for workmen for the house." I tried to sound busi­nesslike and impersonal, though wearing shorts and a T-shirt and Nikes does not inspire professional respect. But I hoped I conveyed the impression that nice people I encountered in the course of my working day could not possibly hold any threat of danger.

"And we heard Bill was on a diet of synthetic blood only," said the tattooed vampire. "Guess we heard wrong, Diane."

The female vampire cocked her head and gave me a long look. "I'm not so sure. She looks like a virgin to me."

I didn't think Diane was talking hymens.

I took a few casual steps toward Bill, hoping like hell he would defend me if worst came to worst, but finding myself not absolutely sure. I was still smiling, hoping he would speak, would move.

And then he did. "Sookie is mine," he said, and his voice was so cold and smooth it wouldn't have made a ripple in the water if it had been a stone.

I looked at him sharply, but I had enough brains to keep my mouth shut.

"How good you been taking care of our Bill?" Diane asked.

"None of your fucking business," I answered, using one of Jason's words and still smiling. I said I had a temper.

There was a sharp little pause. Everyone, human and vam­pire, seemed to examine me closely enough to count the hairs on my arms. Then the tall male began to rock with laughter and the others followed suit. While they were yukking it up, I moved a few feet closer to Bill. His dark eyes were fixed on me—he wasn't laughing—and I got the distinct feeling he wished, just as much as I did, that I could read his mind.

He was in some danger, I could tell. And if he was, then I was.

"You have a funny smile," said the tall male thoughtfully. I'd liked him better when he was laughing.

"Oh, Malcolm," said Diane. "All human women look funny to you."

Malcolm pulled the human male to him and gave him a long kiss. I began to feel a little sick. That kind of stuff is private. "This is true," Malcolm said, pulling away after a moment, to the small man's apparent disappointment. "But there is something rare about this one. Maybe she has rich blood."

"Aw," said the blond woman, in a voice that could blister paint, "That's just crazy Sookie Stackhouse."

I looked at the woman with more attention. I recognized her at last, when I mentally erased a few miles of hard road and half the makeup. Janella Lennox had worked at Mer­lotte's for two weeks until Sam had fired her. She'd moved to Monroe, Arlene had told me.

The male vampire with the tattoos put his arm around Ja­nella and rubbed her breasts. I could feel the blood drain out of my face. I was disgusted. It got worse. Janella, as lost to decency as the vampire, put her hand on his crotch and mas­saged.

At least I saw clearly that vampires can sure have sex. I was less than excited about that knowledge at the mo­ment.

Malcolm was watching me, and I'd showed my distaste. "She's innocent," he said to Bill, with a smile full of an­ticipation.

"She's mine," Bill said again. This time his voice was more intense. If he'd been a rattlesnake his warning could not have been clearer.

"Now, Bill, you can't tell me you've been getting every­thing you need from that little thing," Diane said. "You look pale and droopy. She ain't been taking good care of you." I inched a little closer to Bill.

"Here," offered Diane, whom I was beginning to hate, "have a taste of Liam's woman or Malcolm's pretty boy, Jerry."

Janella didn't react to being offered around, maybe be­cause she was too busy unzipping Liam's jeans, but Mal­colm's beautiful boyfriend, Jerry, slithered willingly over to Bill. I smiled as though my jaws were going to crack as he wrapped his arms around Bill, nuzzled Bill's neck, rubbed his chest against Bill's shirt.