Sookie Stackhouse 8-copy Boxed Set

by Charlaine Harris

Or maybe Hugo was as expendable to them as he was to me. And he certainly would be to the vampires; I could hardly wait to tell Isabel that her boy toy was a traitor.

  That sobered up my bloodlust. When I realized what Isabel would do to Hugo, I realized that I would take no real satisfaction in it if I witnessed it. In fact, it would terrify me and sicken me.

  But part of me thought he richly deserved it.

  To whom did this conflicted lawyer owe fealty?

  One way to find out.

  I sat up painfully, pressed my back against the wall. I would heal pretty fast—the vampire blood, again—but I was still a human, and I still felt awful. I knew my face was badly bruised, and I was willing to believe my cheekbone was fractured. The left side of my face was swelling something fierce. But my legs weren’t broken, and I could still run, given the chance; that was the main thing.

  Once I was braced and as comfortable as I was going to get, I said, “Hugo, how long have you been a traitor?”

  He flushed an incredible red. “To whom? To Isabel, or to the human race?”

  “Take your pick.”

  “I betrayed the human race when I took the side of the vampires in court. If I’d had any idea of what they were . . . I took the case sight unseen, because I thought it would be an interesting legal challenge. I have always been a civil rights lawyer, and I was convinced vampires had the same civil rights as other people.”

  Mr. Floodgates. “Sure,” I said.

  “To deny them the right to live anywhere they wanted to, that was un-American, I thought,” Hugo continued. He sounded bitter and world-weary.

  He hadn’t seen bitter, yet.

  “But you know what, Sookie? Vampires aren’t American. They aren’t even black or Asian or Indian. They aren’t Rotarians or Baptists. They’re all just plain vampires. That’s their color and their religion and their nationality.”

  Well, that was what happened when a minority went underground for thousands of years. Duh.

  “At the time, I thought if Stan Davis wanted to live on Green Valley Road, or in the Hundred-Acre Wood, that was his right as an American. So I defended him against the neighborhood association, and I won. I was real proud of myself. Then I got to know Isabel, and I took her to bed one night, feeling real daring, really the big man, the emancipated thinker.”

  I stared at him, not blinking or saying a word.

  “As you know, the sex is great, the best. I was in thrall to her, couldn’t get enough. My practice suffered. I started seeing clients only in the afternoon, because I couldn’t get up in the morning. I couldn’t make my court dates in the morning. I couldn’t leave Isabel after dark.”

  This sounded like an alcoholic’s tale, to me. Hugo had become addicted to vampiric sex. I found the concept fascinating and repellent.

  “I started doing little jobs she found for me. This past month, I’ve been going over there and doing the housekeeping chores, just so I can hang around Isabel. When she wanted me to bring the bowl of water into the dining room, I was excited. Not at doing such a menial task—I’m a lawyer, for God’s sake! But because the Fellowship had called me, asked me if I could give them any insight into what the vampires of Dallas intended to do. At the time they called, I was mad at Isabel. We’d had a fight about the way she treated me. So I was open to listening to them. I’d heard your name pass between Stan and Isabel, so I passed it on to the Fellowship. They have a guy who works for Anubis Air. He found out when Bill’s plane was coming in, and they tried to grab you at the airport so they could find out what the vamps wanted with you. What they’d do to get you back. When I came in with the bowl of water, I heard Stan or Bill call you by name, so I knew they’d missed you at the airport. I felt like I had something to tell them, to make up for losing the bug I’d put in the conference room.”

  “You betrayed Isabel,” I said. “And you betrayed me, though I’m human, like you.”

  “Yes,” he said. He didn’t look me in the eyes.

  “What about Bethany Rogers?”

  “The waitress?”

  He was stalling. “The dead waitress,” I said.

  “They took her,” he said, shaking his head from side to side, as if he were actually saying, No, they couldn’t have done what they did. “They took her, and I didn’t know what they were going to do. I knew she was the only one who’d seen Farrell with Godfrey, and I’d told them that. When I got up today and I heard she’d been found dead, I just couldn’t believe it.”

  “They abducted her after you told them she’d been at Stan’s. After you told them she was the only true witness.”

  “Yes, they must have.”

  “You called them last night.”

  “Yes, I have a cell phone. I went out in the backyard and I called. I was really taking a chance, because you know how well the vamps can hear, but I called.” He was trying to convince himself that had been a brave, bold thing to do. Place a phone call from vamp headquarters to lay the finger on poor, pathetic Bethany, who’d ended up shot in an alley.

  “She was shot after you betrayed her.”

  “Yes, I . . . I heard that on the news.”

  “Guess who did that, Hugo.”

  “I . . . just don’t know.”

  “Sure you do, Hugo. She’d been an eyewitness. And she was a lesson, a lesson to the vampires. ‘This is what we’ll do to people who work for you or make their living from you, if they go against the Fellowship.’ What do you think they’re going to do with you, Hugo?”

  “I’ve been helping them,” he said, surprised.

  “Who else knows that?”

  “No one.”

  “So who would die? The lawyer that helped Stan Davis live where he wanted.”

  Hugo was speechless.

  “If you’re so all-fired important to them, how come you’re in this room with me?”

  “Because up until now, you didn’t know what I’d done,” he pointed out. “Up until now, it was possible you would give me other information we could use against them.”

  “So now, now that I know what you are, they’ll let you out. Right? Why don’t you try it and see? I’d much rather be alone.”

  Just then a small aperture in the door opened. I hadn’t even known it was there, having been preoccupied while I was out in the hall. A face appeared at the opening, which measured perhaps ten inches by ten inches.

  It was a familiar face. Gabe, grinning. “How you doing in there, you two?”

  “Sookie needs a doctor,” Hugo said. “She’s not complaining, but I think her cheekbone is broken.” He sounded reproachful. “And she knows about my alliance with the Fellowship, so you might as well let me out.”

  I didn’t know what Hugo thought he was doing, but I tried to look as beaten as possible. That was pretty easy.

  “I have me an idea,” Gabe said. “I’ve gotten kind of bored down here, and I don’t expect Steve or Sarah—or even old Polly—will be coming back down here any time soon. We got another prisoner over here, Hugo, might be glad to see you. Farrell? You meet him over at the headquarters of the Evil Ones?”

  “Yes,” said Hugo. He looked very unhappy about this turn of the conversation.

  “You know how fond Farrell’s gonna be of you? And he’s gay, too, a queer bloodsucker. We’re so deep underground that he’s been waking up early. So I thought I might just put you in there with him, while I have me a little fun with the female traitor, here.” And Gabe smiled at me in a way that made my stomach lurch.

  Hugo’s face was a picture. A real picture. Several things crossed my mind, pertinent things to say. I forewent the doubtful pleasure. I needed to save my energy.

  One of my Gran’s favorite adages popped into my mind irresistibly as I looked at Gabe’s handsome face. “Pretty is as pretty does,” I muttered, and began the painful process of getting to my feet to defend myself. My legs might not be broken, but my left knee was surely in bad shape. It was already badly discolored and swollen.

  I wondered if
Hugo and I together could take Gabe down when he opened the door, but as soon as it swung outward, I saw he’d armed himself with a gun and a black, menacing-looking object I decided might be a stun gun.

  “Farrell!” I called. If he were awake, he’d hear me; he was a vampire.

  Gabe jumped, looked at me suspiciously.

  “Yes?” came a deep voice from the room farther down the hall. I heard chains clink as the vampire moved. Of course, they’d have to chain him with silver. Otherwise he could rip the door off its hinges.

  “Stan sent us!” I yelled, and then Gabe backhanded me with the hand that held the gun. Since I was against the wall, my head bounced off it. I made an awful noise, not quite a scream but too loud for a moan.

  “Shut up, bitch!” Gabe screamed. He was pointing the gun at Hugo and had the stun gun held at the ready a few inches from me. “Now, Lawyer, you get out here in the hall. Keep away from me, you hear?”

  Hugo, sweat pouring down his face, edged past Gabe and into the hall. I was having a hard time tracking what was happening, but I noticed that in the narrow width Gabe had to maneuver, he came very close to Hugo on his way to open Farrell’s cell. Just when I thought he was far enough down the hall for me to make it, he told Hugo to close my cell door, and though I frantically shook my head at Hugo, he did so.

  I don’t think Hugo even saw me. He was turned completely inward. Everything inside him was collapsing, his thoughts were in chaos. I’d done my best for him by telling Farrell we were from Stan, which in Hugo’s case was stretching it considerably, but Hugo was too frightened or disillusioned or ashamed to show any backbone. Considering his deep betrayal, I was very surprised I’d bothered. If I hadn’t held his hand and seen the images of his children, I wouldn’t have.

  “There’s nothing to you, Hugo,” I said. His face reappeared at the still-open window momentarily, his face white with distress of all kinds, but then he vanished. I heard a door open, I heard the clink of chains, and I heard a door close.

  Gabe had forced Hugo into Farrell’s cell. I took deep breaths, one right after another, until I felt I might hyperventilate. I picked up one of the chairs, a plastic one with four metal legs, the kind you’ve sat on a million times in churches and meetings and classrooms. I held it lion-tamer style, with the legs facing outward. It was all I could think of to do. I thought of Bill, but that was too painful. I thought of my brother, Jason, and I wished he were there with me. It had been a long time since I’d wished that about Jason.

  The door opened. Gabe was already smiling as he came in. It was a nasty smile, letting all the ugliness leak out of his soul through his mouth and eyes. This really was his idea of a good time.

  “You think that little chair is going to keep you safe?” he asked.

  I wasn’t in the mood for talking, and I didn’t want to listen to the snakes in his mind. I closed myself off, contained myself tightly, bracing myself.

  He’d holstered the gun, but kept the stun gun in his hand. Now, such was his confidence, he put it in a little leather pouch on his belt, on the left side. He seized the legs of the chair and began to yank the chair from side to side.

  I charged.

  I almost had him out the door, so unexpected was my strong counterattack, but at the last minute he managed to twist the legs sideways, so that they couldn’t pass through the narrow doorway. He stood against the wall on the other side of the hall, panting, his face red.

  “Bitch,” he hissed, and came at me again, and this time he tried to pull the chair out of my hands altogether. But as I’ve said before, I’ve had vampire blood, and I didn’t let him have it. And I didn’t let him have me.

  Without my seeing it, he’d drawn the stun gun and, quick as a snake, he reached over the chair and touched it to my shoulder.

  I didn’t collapse, which he expected, but I went down on my knees, still holding the chair. While I was still trying to figure out what had happened to me, he yanked the chair from my hands, and knocked me backwards.

  I could hardly move, but I could scream and lock my legs together, and I did.

  “Shut up!” he yelled, and since he was touching me, I could tell that he really wanted me unconscious, he would enjoy raping me while I was unconscious; in fact, that was his ideal.

  “Don’t like your women awake,” I panted, “do you?” He stuck a hand between us and yanked open my blouse.

  I heard Hugo’s voice, yelling, as if that would do any good. I bit at Gabe’s shoulder.

  He called me a bitch again, which was getting old. He’d opened his own pants, now he was trying to pull up my skirt. I was fleetingly glad I’d bought a long one.

  “You afraid they’ll complain, if they’re awake?” I yelled. “Let me go, get off me! Get off, get off, get off!” Finally, I’d unpinned my arms. In a moment, they’d recovered enough from the electric jolt to function. I formed two cups with my hands. As I screamed at him, I clapped my hands over his ears.

  He roared, and reared back, his own hands going to his head. He was so full of rage it escaped him and washed over me; it felt like bathing in fury. I knew then that he would kill me if he could, no matter what reprisals he faced. I tried to roll to one side, but he had me pinned with his legs. I watched as his right hand formed a fist, which seemed as big as a boulder to me. And with a sense of doom, I watched the arc of that fist as it descended to my face, knowing this one would knock me out and it would be all over. . . .

  And it didn’t happen.

  Up in the air Gabe went, pants open and dick hanging out, his fist landing on air, his shoes kicking at my legs.

  A short man was holding Gabe up in the air; not a man, I realized at second glance, a teenager. An ancient teenager.

  He was blond and shirtless, and his arms and chest were covered with blue tattoos. Gabe was yelling and flailing, but the boy stood calmly, his face expressionless, until Gabe ran down. By the time Gabe was silent, the boy had transferred his grip to a kind of bear hug encircling Gabe’s waist, and Gabe was hanging forward.

  The boy looked down at me dispassionately. My blouse had been torn open, and my bra was ripped down the middle.

  “Are you badly hurt?” the boy asked, almost reluctantly.

  I had a savior, but not an enthusiastic one.

  I stood up, which was more of a feat than it sounds. It took me quite a while. I was trembling violently from the emotional shock. When I was upright, I was on an eye level with the boy. In human years, he would’ve been about sixteen when he’d been made vampire. There was no telling how many years ago that had been. He must be older than Stan, older than Isabel. His English was clear, but heavily accented. I had no idea what kind of accent it was. Maybe his original language was not even spoken anymore. What a lonely feeling that would be.

  “I’ll mend,” I said. “Thank you.” I tried to rebutton my blouse—there were a few remaining buttons—but my hands were shaking too badly. He wasn’t interested in seeing my skin, anyway. It didn’t do a thing for him. His eyes were quite dispassionate.

  “Godfrey,” Gabe said. His voice was thready. “Godfrey, she was trying to escape.”

  Godfrey shook him, and Gabe shut up.

  So, Godfrey was the vampire I’d seen through Bethany’s eyes—the only eyes that could remember seeing him at the Bat’s Wing that evening. The eyes that were no longer seeing anything.

  “What do you intend to do?” I asked him, keeping my voice quiet and even.

  Godfrey’s pale blue eyes flickered. He didn’t know.

  He’d gotten the tattoos while he was alive, and they were very strange, symbols whose meaning had been lost centuries ago, I was willing to bet. Probably some scholar would give his eyeteeth to have a look at those tattoos. Lucky me, I was getting to see them for nothing.

  “Please let me out,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster. “They’ll kill me.”

  “But you consort with vampires,” he said.

  My eyes darted from one side to another, as I tried
to figure this one out.

  “Ah,” I said hesitantly. “You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

  “Tomorrow I atone for my sin publicly,” Godfrey said. “Tomorrow I greet the dawn. For the first time in a thousand years, I will see the sun. Then I will see the face of God.”

  Okay. “You chose,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “But I didn’t. I don’t want to die.” I spared a glance for Gabe’s face, which was quite blue. In his agitation, Godfrey was squeezing Gabe much tighter than he ought to. I wondered if I should say something.

  “You do consort with vampires,” Godfrey accused, and I switched my gaze back to his face. I knew I’d better not let my concentration wander again.

  “I’m in love,” I said.

  “With a vampire.”

  “Yes. Bill Compton.”

  “All vampires are damned, and should all meet the sun. We’re a taint, a blot on the face of the earth.”

  “And these people”—I pointed upward to indicate I meant the Fellowship—“these people are better, Godfrey?”

  The vampire looked uneasy and unhappy. He was starving, I noticed; his cheeks were almost concave, and they were as white as paper. His blond hair almost floated around his head, it was so electric, and his eyes looked like blue marbles against his pallor. “They, at least, are human, part of God’s plan,” he said quietly. “Vampires are an abomination.”

  “Yet you’ve been nicer to me than this human.” Who was dead, I realized, as I glanced down at his face. I tried not to flinch, and refocused on Godfrey, who was much more important to my future.

  “But we take the blood of the innocents.” Godfrey’s pale blue eyes fixed on mine.

  “Who is innocent?” I asked rhetorically, hoping I didn’t sound too much like Pontius Pilate asking, What is truth? when he knew damn well.

  “Well, children,” Godfrey said.

  “Oh, you . . . fed on children?” I put my hand over my mouth.

  “I killed children.”

  I couldn’t think of a thing to say for a long time. Godfrey stood there, looking at me sadly, holding Gabe’s body in his arms, forgotten.

  “What stopped you?” I asked.