Sookie Stackhouse 8-copy Boxed Set (2 page)

BOOK: Sookie Stackhouse 8-copy Boxed Set
10.04Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
When Sam looked back at me, I could tell he too knew our new customer was undead. Sam’s eyes are Paul Newman blue, as opposed to my own hazy blue gray. Sam is blond, too, but his hair is wiry and his blond is almost a sort of hot red gold. He is always a little sunburned, and though he looks slight in his clothes, I have seen him unload trucks with his shirt off, and he has plenty of upper body strength. I never listen to Sam’s thoughts. He’s my boss. I’ve had to quit jobs before because I found out things I didn’t want to know about my boss.
But Sam didn’t comment, he just gave me the wine. I checked the glass to make sure it was sparkly clean and made my way back to the vampire’s table.
“Your wine, sir,” I said ceremoniously and placed it carefully on the table exactly in front of him. He looked at me again, and I stared into his lovely eyes while I had the chance. “Enjoy,” I said proudly. Behind me, Mack Rattray yelled, “Hey, Sookie! We need another pitcher of beer here!” I sighed and turned to take the empty pitcher from the Rats’ table. Denise was in fine form tonight, I noticed, wearing a halter top and short shorts, her mess of brown hair floofing around her head in fashionable tangles. Denise wasn’t truly pretty, but she was so flashy and confident that it took awhile to figure that out.
A little while later, to my dismay, I saw the Rattrays had moved over to the vampire’s table. They were talking at him. I couldn’t see that he was responding a lot, but he wasn’t leaving either.
“Look at that!” I said disgustedly to Arlene, my fellow waitress. Arlene is redheaded and freckled and ten years older than me, and she’s been married four times. She has two kids, and from time to time, I think she considers me her third.
“New guy, huh?” she said with small interest. Arlene is currently dating Rene Lenier, and though I can’t see the attraction, she seems pretty satisfied. I think Rene was her second husband.
“Oh, he’s a vampire,” I said, just having to share my delight with someone.
“Really? Here? Well, just think,” she said, smiling a little to show she appreciated my pleasure. “He can’t be too bright, though, honey, if he’s with the Rats. On the other hand, Denise is giving him quite a show.”
I figured it out after Arlene made it plain to me; she’s much better at sizing up sexual situations than I am due to her experience and my lack.
The vampire was hungry. I’d always heard that the synthetic blood the Japanese had developed kept vampires up to par as far as nutrition, but didn’t really satisfy their hunger, which was why there were “Unfortunate Incidents” from time to time. (That was the vampire euphemism for the bloody slaying of a human.) And here was Denise Rattray, stroking her throat, turning her neck from side to side . . . what a
bitch
.
My brother, Jason, came into the bar, then, and sauntered over to give me a hug. He knows that women like a man who’s good to his family and also kind to the disabled, so hugging me is a double whammy of recommendation. Not that Jason needs many more points than he has just by being himself. He’s handsome. He can sure be mean, too, but most women seem quite willing to overlook that.
“Hey, sis, how’s Gran?”
“She’s okay, about the same. Come by to see.”
“I will. Who’s loose tonight?”
“Look for yourself.” I noticed that when Jason began to glance around there was a flutter of female hands to hair, blouses, lips.
“Hey. I see DeeAnne. She free?”
“She’s here with a trucker from Hammond. He’s in the bathroom. Watch it.”
Jason grinned at me, and I marvelled that other women could not see the selfishness of that smile. Even Arlene tucked in her T-shirt when Jason came in, and after four husbands she should have known a little about evaluating men. The other waitress I worked with, Dawn, tossed her hair and straightened her back to make her boobs stand out. Jason gave her an amiable wave. She pretended to sneer. She’s on the outs with Jason, but she still wants him to notice her.
I got really busy—everyone came to Merlotte’s on Saturday night for some portion of the evening—so I lost track of my vampire for a while. When I next had a moment to check on him, he was talking to Denise. Mack was looking at him with an expression so avid that I became worried.
I went closer to the table, staring at Mack. Finally, I let down my guard and listened.
Mack and Denise had been in jail for vampire draining.
Deeply upset, I nevertheless automatically carried a pitcher of beer and some glasses to a raucous table of four. Since vampire blood was supposed to temporarily relieve symptoms of illness and increase sexual potency, kind of like prednisone and Viagra rolled into one, there was a huge black market for genuine, undiluted vampire blood. Where there’s a market there are suppliers; in this case, I’d just learned, the scummy Rat Couple. They’d formerly trapped vampires and drained them, selling the little vials of blood for as much as $200 apiece. It had been the drug of choice for at least two years now. Some buyers went crazy after drinking pure vampire blood, but that didn’t slow the market any.
The drained vampire didn’t last long, as a rule. The drainers left the vampires staked or simply dumped them out in the open. When the sun came up, that was all she wrote. From time to time, you read about the tables being turned when the vampire managed to get free. Then you got your dead drainers.
Now my vampire was getting up and leaving with the Rats. Mack met my eyes, and I saw him looking distinctly startled at the expression on my face. He turned away, shrugging me off like everyone else.
That made me mad. Really mad.
What should I do? While I struggled with myself, they were out the door. Would the vampire believe me if I ran after them, told him? No one else did. Or if by chance they did, they hated and feared me for reading the thoughts concealed in people’s brains. Arlene had begged me to read her fourth husband’s mind when he’d come in to pick her up one night because she was pretty certain he was thinking of leaving her and the kids, but I wouldn’t because I wanted to keep the one friend I had. And even Arlene hadn’t been able to ask me directly because that would be admitting I had this gift, this curse. People couldn’t admit it. They had to think I was crazy. Which sometimes I almost was!
So I dithered, confused and frightened and angry, and then I knew I just had to act. I was goaded by the look Mack had given me—as if I was negligible.
I slid down the bar to Jason, where he was sweeping DeeAnne off her feet. She didn’t take much sweeping, popular opinion had it. The trucker from Hammond was glowering from her other side.
“Jason,” I said urgently. He turned to give me a warning glare. “Listen, is that chain still in the back of the pickup?”
“Never leave home without it,” he said lazily, his eyes scanning my face for signs of trouble. “You going to fight, Sookie?”
I smiled at him, so used to grinning that it was easy. “I sure hope not,” I said cheerfully.
“Hey, you need help?” After all, he was my brother.
“No, thanks,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. And I slipped over to Arlene. “Listen, I got to leave a little early. My tables are pretty thin, can you cover for me?” I didn’t think I’d ever asked Arlene such a thing, though I’d covered for her many times. She, too, offered me help. “That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll be back in if I can. If you clean my area, I’ll do your trailer.”
Arlene nodded her red mane enthusiastically.
I pointed to the employee door, to myself, and made my fingers walk, to tell Sam where I was going.
He nodded. He didn’t look happy.
So out the back door I went, trying to make my feet quiet on the gravel. The employee parking lot is at the rear of the bar, through a door leading into the storeroom. The cook’s car was there, and Arlene’s, Dawn’s, and mine. To my right, the east, Sam’s pickup was sitting in front of his trailer.
I went out of the gravelled employee parking area onto the blacktop that surfaced the much larger customer lot to the west of the bar. Woods surrounded the clearing in which Merlotte’s stood, and the edges of the parking lot were mostly gravel. Sam kept it well lit, and the surrealistic glare of the high, parking lot lights made everything look strange.
I saw the Rat Couple’s dented red sports car, so I knew they were close.
I found Jason’s truck at last. It was black with custom aqua and pink swirls on the sides. He sure did love to be noticed. I pulled myself up by the tailgate and rummaged around in the bed for his chain, a thick length of links that he carried in case of a fight. I looped it and carried it pressed to my body so it wouldn’t chink.
I thought a second. The only halfway private spot to which the Rattrays could have lured the vampire was the end of the parking lot where the trees actually overhung the cars. So I crept in that direction, trying to move fast and low.
I paused every few seconds and listened. Soon I heard a groan and the faint sounds of voices. I snaked between the cars, and I spotted them right where I’d figured they’d be. The vampire was down on the ground on his back, his face contorted in agony, and the gleam of chains crisscrossed his wrists and ran down to his ankles. Silver. There were two little vials of blood already on the ground beside Denise’s feet, and as I watched, she fixed a new Vacutainer to the needle. The tourniquet above his elbow dug cruelly into his arm.
Their backs were to me, and the vampire hadn’t seen me yet. I loosened the coiled chain so a good three feet of it swung free. Who to attack first? They were both small and vicious.
I remembered Mack’s contemptuous dismissal and the fact that he never left me a tip. Mack first.
I’d never actually been in a fight before. Somehow I was positively looking forward to it.
I leapt out from behind a pickup and swung the chain. It thwacked across Mack’s back as he knelt beside his victim. He screamed and jumped up. After a glance, Denise set about getting the third Vacutainer plugged. Mack’s hand dipped down to his boot and came up shining. I gulped. He had a knife in his hand.
“Uh-oh,” I said, and grinned at him.
“You crazy bitch!” he screamed. He sounded like he was looking forward to using the knife. I was too involved to keep my mental guard up, and I had a clear flash of what Mack wanted to do to me. It drove me really crazy. I went for him with every intention of hurting him as badly as I could. But he was ready for me and jumped forward with the knife while I was swinging the chain. He sliced at my arm and just missed it. The chain, on its recoil, wrapped around his skinny neck like a lover. Mack’s yell of triumph turned into a gurgle. He dropped the knife and clawed at the links with both hands. Losing air, he dropped to his knees on the rough pavement, yanking the chain from my hand.
Well, there went Jason’s chain. I swooped down and scooped up Mack’s knife, holding it like I knew how to use it. Denise had been lunging forward, looking like a redneck witch in the lines and shadows of the security lights.
She stopped in her tracks when she saw I had Mack’s knife. She cursed and railed and said terrible things. I waited till she’d run down to say, “Get. Out. Now.”
Denise stared holes of hate in my head. She tried to scoop up the vials of blood, but I hissed at her to leave them alone. So she pulled Mack to his feet. He was still making choking, gurgling sounds and holding the chain. Denise kind of dragged him along to their car and shoved him in through the passenger’s side. Yanking some keys from her pocket, Denise threw herself in the driver’s seat.
As I heard the engine roar into life, suddenly I realized that the Rats now had another weapon. Faster than I’ve ever moved, I ran to the vampire’s head and panted, “Push with your feet!” I grabbed him under the arms and yanked back with all my might, and he caught on and braced his feet and shoved. We were just inside the tree line when the red car came roaring down at us. Denise missed us by less than a yard when she had to swerve to avoid hitting a pine. Then I heard the big motor of the Rats’ car receding in the distance.
“Oh, wow,” I breathed, and knelt by the vampire because my knees wouldn’t hold me up any more. I breathed heavily for just a minute, trying to get hold of myself. The vampire moved a little, and I looked over. To my horror, I saw wisps of smoke coming up from his wrists where the silver touched them.
“Oh, you poor thing,” I said, angry at myself for not caring for him instantly. Still trying to catch my breath, I began to unwind the thin bands of silver, which all seemed to be part of one very long chain. “Poor baby,” I whispered, never thinking until later how incongruous that sounded. I have agile fingers, and I released his wrists pretty quickly. I wondered how the Rats had distracted him while they got into position to put them on, and I could feel myself reddening as I pictured it.
The vampire cradled his arms to his chest while I worked on the silver wrapped around his legs. His ankles had fared better since the drainers hadn’t troubled to pull up his jeans legs and put the silver against his bare skin.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here faster,” I said apologetically. “You’ll feel better in a minute, right? Do you want me to leave?”
“No.”
That made me feel pretty good until he added, “They might come back, and I can’t fight yet.” His cool voice was uneven, but I couldn’t exactly say I’d heard him panting.
I made a sour face at him, and while he was recovering, I took a few precautions. I sat with my back to him, giving him some privacy. I know how unpleasant it is to be stared at when you’re hurting. I hunkered down on the pavement, keeping watch on the parking lot. Several cars left, and others came in, but none came down to our end by the woods. By the movement of the air around me, I knew when the vampire had sat up.
He didn’t speak right away. I turned my head to the left to look at him. He was closer than I’d thought. His big dark eyes looked into mine. His fangs had retracted; I was a little disappointed about that.

Other books

Hater 1: Hater by David Moody
Vintage Soul by David Niall Wilson
The Newman Resident by Swift, Charles
A Summer In Europe by Marilyn Brant
The Best Intentions by Ingmar Bergman
The Mayan Resurrection by Steve Alten