Sookie Stackhouse 8-copy Boxed Set (207 page)

“What will happen to Jake now?” Amelia looked troubled. “I liked him. He was a nice guy.”

“He still may be. He’s just a vampire nice guy.”

“I’m not sure there’s such a thing,” my companion said quietly.

“Some days, I’m not sure either.” We rode for a while in silence.

“Well, tell me about Bon Temps,” Amelia said, to get us out of our conversational doldrums.

I began to tell her about the town, and the bar where I worked, and the wedding shower I’d been invited to attend, and all the upcoming weddings.

“Sounds pretty good,” Amelia said. “Hey, I know I kind of asked myself along. Do you mind, I mean, really?”

“No,” I said, with a speed that surprised even me. “No, it’ll be nice to have company . . . for a while,” I added cautiously. “What will you do about your house in New Orleans while you’re gone?”

“Everett said he wouldn’t mind living in the upper apartment, because his mom was getting kind of hard to take. Since he’s got such a good job with Cataliades, he can afford it. He’ll watch my plants and stuff until I get back. He can always e-mail me.” Amelia had a laptop in her trunk, so for the first time there’d be a computer in the Stackhouse home. There was a pause, and then she said, her voice tentative, “How are you feeling now? I mean, with the ex and all?”

I considered. “I have a big hole in my heart,” I said. “But it’ll close over.”

“I don’t want to sound all Dr. Phil,” she said. “But don’t let the scab seal the pain in, okay?”

“That’s good advice,” I said. “I hope I can manage it.”

I’d been gone a few days, and they’d been eventful ones. As we drew closer to Bon Temps, I wondered if Tanya had succeeded in getting Sam to ask her out. I wondered if I’d have to tell Sam about Tanya’s role as spy. Eric didn’t have to be confused about me any more, since our big secret was out. He didn’t have a hold on me. Would the Pelts stick to their word? Maybe Bill would go on a long trip. Maybe a stake would accidentally fall on his chest while he was gone.

I hadn’t heard from Jason while I was in New Orleans. I wondered if he was still planning on getting married. I hoped Crystal had recovered. I wondered if Dr. Ludwig accepted insurance payments. And the Bellefleur double wedding should be an interesting event, even if I was working while I was there.

I took a deep breath. My life was not so bad, I told myself, and I began to believe that was true. I had a new boyfriend, maybe; I had a new friend, surely; and I had events to look forward to. This was all good, and I should be grateful.

So what if I was obliged to attend a vampire conference as part of the queen’s entourage? We’d stay in a fancy hotel, dress up a lot, attend long boring meetings, if everything other people had told me about conferences was true.

Gosh, how bad could that be?

Better not to think about it.

Dear Readers,

 

If you’ve enjoyed Sookie’s adventures, you might be interested in reading other works of mine. In 2005, Berkley published
Grave Sight
, the first book in a series about a young woman named Harper Connelly. Harper was struck by lightning when she was fifteen years old, and since then she’s been able to find dead people. Now in her twenties, Harper and her stepbrother, Tolliver, conduct their unique business on the road.

As the two travel from job to job, they encounter all kinds of clients along the way. Sometimes, the body Harper finds has met a foul death . . . and sometimes, the people who pay her think Harper knows more than she does about who committed the murder.

If you think you might like reading about Harper and Tolliver,
Grave Surprise
, the second book about their investigations, will be on the shelves in hardcover in November of 2006. The same month,
Grave Sight
will be released in paperback.

I hope you enjoy the change of pace.

 

CHARLAINE HARRIS

 

DEAD UNTIL DARK
LIVING DEAD IN DALLAS
CLUB DEAD
DEAD TO THE WORLD
DEAD AS A DOORNAIL
DEFINITELY DEAD
ALL TOGETHER DEAD

 

 

SHAKESPEARE’S LANDLORD
SHAKESPEARE’S CHAMPION
SHAKESPEARE’S TROLLOP
SHAKESPEARE’S COUNSELOR

 

GRAVE SIGHT
GRAVE SURPRISE

 

SWEET AND DEADLY

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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South Africa

 

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

Copyright © 2007 by Charlaine Harris Schulz.

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

ACE is an imprint of The Berkley Publishing Group. ACE and the “A” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

First edition: May 2007

 

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Harris, Charlaine.

All together dead / Charlaine Harris.—1st ed. p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-441-01494-1

1. Vampires—Fiction. 2. Louisiana—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3558.A6427A78 2007

813’.54—dc22

2006103253

 

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

 

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

 

There are a few people I’ve thanked before and need to thank again: Robin Burcell, former cop and present writer, and FBI Agent George Fong, who were great about answering my questions about security and bomb disposal. I appreciate the input of Sam Saucedo, the former newscaster and now writer, who explained a few things about border politics to me. I also need to thank S. J. Rozan, who was happy to answer my questions about architecture, though the vampire part was a distinct shock. I may have misused the information given me, but it was in a good cause. As always, I owe a great debt to my friend Toni L. P. Kelner, who read my first draft without laughing in my face. And my new continuity person, Debi Murray, gets a tip of the hat; from now on if I make mistakes, I have someone to blame. I owe a lot to the many wonderful readers who visit my website (
www.charlaineharris.com
) and leave messages of encouragement and interest. Beverly Batillo, my fan club president, has given me a boost many a time when I was down in the dumps.

T
HE SHREVEPORT VAMPIRE BAR WOULD BE OPENING late tonight. I was running behind, and I’d automatically gone to the front door, the public door, only to be halted by a neatly lettered sign, red Gothic script on white cardboard: WE’LL BE READY TO GREET YOU WITH A BITE TONIGHT, AT EIGHT O’CLOCK. PLEASE EXCUSE OUR DELAYED OPENING. It was signed “The Staff of Fangtasia.”

It was the third week in September, so the red neon FANGTASIA sign was already on. The sky was almost pitch-black. I stood with one foot inside my car for a minute, enjoying the mild evening and the faint, dry smell of vampire that lingered around the club. Then I drove around to the back and parked beside several other cars lined up at the employee entrance. I was only five minutes late, but it looked like everyone else had beaten me to the meeting. I rapped on the door. I waited.

I’d raised my hand to knock again when Pam, Eric’s second-in-command, opened the door. Pam was based at the bar, but she had other duties in Eric’s various business dealings. Though vampires had gone public five years ago and turned their best face to the world, they were still pretty secretive about their moneymaking methods, and sometimes I wondered how much of America the undead actually owned. Eric, the owner of Fangtasia, was a true vampire in the keeping-things-to-himself department. Of course, in his long, long existence he’d had to be.

“Come in, my telepathic friend,” Pam said, gesturing dramatically. She was wearing her work outfit: the filmy, trailing black gown that all the tourists who came into the bar seemed to expect from female vampires. (When Pam got to pick her own clothing, she was a pastels-and-twinset kind of woman.) Pam had the palest, straightest blond hair you ever saw; in fact, she was ethereally lovely, with a kind of deadly edge. The deadly edge was what a person shouldn’t forget.

“How you doing?” I asked politely.

“I am doing exceptionally well,” she said. “Eric is full of happiness.”

Eric Northman, the vampire sheriff of Area Five, had made Pam a vampire, and she was both obliged and compelled to do his bidding. That was part of the deal of becoming undead: you were always in sway to your maker. But Pam had told me more than once that Eric was a good boss to have, and that he would let her go her own way if and when she desired to do so. In fact, she’d been living in Minnesota until Eric had purchased Fangtasia and called her to help him run it.

Area Five was most of northwestern Louisiana, which until a month ago had been the economically weaker half of the state. Since Hurricane Katrina, the balance of power in Louisiana had shifted dramatically, especially in the vampire community.

“How is that delicious brother of yours, Sookie? And your shape-shifting boss?” Pam said.

“My delicious brother is making noises about getting married, like everyone else in Bon Temps,” I said.

“You sound a bit depressed.” Pam cocked her head to one side and regarded me like a sparrow eyeing a worm.

“Well, maybe a tad wee bit,” I said.

“You must keep busy,” Pam said. “Then you won’t have time to mope.”

Pam
loved
“Dear Abby.” Lots of vampires scrutinized the column daily. Their solutions to some of the writers’ problems would just make you scream. Literally. Pam had already advised me that I could only be imposed on if I permitted it, and that I needed to be more selective in picking my friends. I was getting emotional-health counseling from a vampire.

“I am,” I said. “Keeping busy, that is. I’m working, I’ve still got my roommate from New Orleans, and I’m going to a wedding shower tomorrow. Not for Jason and Crystal. Another couple.”

Pam had paused, her hand on the doorknob of Eric’s office. She considered my statement, her brows drawn together. “I am not remembering what a wedding shower is, though I’ve heard of it,” she said. She brightened. “They’ll get married in a bathroom? No, I’ve heard the term before, surely. A woman wrote to Abby that she hadn’t gotten a thank-you note for a large shower gift. They get . . . presents?”

“You got it,” I said. “A shower is a party for someone who’s about to get married. Sometimes the shower is for the couple, and they’re both there. But usually only the bride is the honoree, and all the other people at the party are women. Everyone brings a gift. The theory is that this way the couple can start life with everything they need. We do the same thing when a couple’s expecting a baby. Course, then it’s a baby shower.”

“Baby shower,” Pam repeated. She smiled in a chilly way. lt was enough to put frost on your pumpkin, seeing that up-curve of the lips. “I like the term,” she said. She knocked on Eric’s office door and then opened it. “Eric,” she said, “maybe someday one of the waitresses will get pregnant, and we can go to a
baby shower
!”