Sookie Stackhouse 8-copy Boxed Set

by Charlaine Harris

  I heard the apartment door close. Moments later, there was a knock at my door. As I let Alcide in, I hoped I didn’t have those funny creases on my face.

  “Alcide, I heard most of that,” I said. “I’m sorry I eavesdropped, but it did seem like it concerned me. Um, Eric is here.”

  “So I see,” Alcide said unenthusiastically. “I guess I’d better let him in. Enter, Eric,” he said, as he slid open the window.

  Eric entered as smoothly as a tall man can enter a small window. He was wearing a suit, complete with vest and tie. His hair was slicked back into a ponytail. He was also wearing glasses.

  “Are you in disguise?” I asked. I could hardly believe it.

  “Yes, I am.” He looked down at himself proudly. “Don’t I look different?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “You look just like Eric, dressed up for once.”

  “Do you like the suit?”

  “Sure,” I said. I have limited knowledge of men’s clothes, but I was willing to bet this sort of olive-brown three-piece ensemble had cost more than I made in two weeks. Or four. I might not have picked this out for a guy with blue eyes, but I had to admit he looked spectacular. If they put out a vampire issue of GQ, he’d definitely be in the running for a photo shoot. “Who did your hair?” I asked, noticing for the first time that it had been braided in an intricate pattern.

  “Oooh, jealous?”

  “No, I thought maybe they could teach me how to do that to mine.”

  Alcide had had enough of fashion commentary. He said belligerently, “What do you mean by leaving the dead man in my closet?”

  I have seldom seen Eric at a loss for words, but he was definitely speechless—for all of thirty seconds.

  “It wasn’t Bubba in the closet, was it?” he asked.

  It was our turn to stand with mouths open, Alcide because he didn’t know who the hell Bubba was, and me because I couldn’t imagine what could have happened to the dazed vampire.

  I hastily filled Alcide in on Bubba.

  “So that explains all the sightings,” he said, shaking his head from side to side. “Damn—they were all for real!”

  “The Memphis group wanted to keep him, but it was just impossible,” Eric explained. “He kept wanting to go home, and then there’d be incidents. So we started passing him around.”

  “And now you’ve lost him,” Alcide observed, not too chagrined by Eric’s problem.

  “It’s possible that the people who were trying to get to Sookie in Bon Temps got Bubba instead,” Eric said. He tugged on his vest and looked down with some satisfaction. “So, who was in the closet?”

  “The biker who marked Sookie last night,” Alcide said. “He made a pretty rough pass at her while I was in the men’s room.”

  “Marked her?”

  “Yes, blood offense,” Alcide said significantly.

  “You didn’t say anything about this last night.” Eric raised an eyebrow at me.

  “I didn’t want to talk about it,” I said. I didn’t like the way that came out, kind of forlorn. “Besides, it wasn’t much blood.”

  “Let me see.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I knew darn good and well that Eric wouldn’t give up. I pulled my sweatshirt off my shoulder, along with my bra strap. Luckily, the sweatshirt was so old, the neck had lost its elasticity, and it afforded enough room. The fingernail gouges on my shoulder were crusted half-moons, puffy and red, though I’d scrubbed the area carefully the night before. I know how many germs are under fingernails. “See,” I said. “No big deal. I was more mad than scared or hurt.”

  Eric kept his eyes on the little nasty wounds until I shrugged my clothes back into order. Then he switched his eyes to Alcide. “And he was dead in the closet?”

  “Yes,” Alcide said. “Had been dead for hours.”

  “What killed him?”

  “He hadn’t been bitten,” I said. “He looked as though his neck might have been broken. We didn’t feel like looking that closely. You’re saying you aren’t the guilty party?”

  “No, though it would have been a pleasure to have done it.”

  I shrugged, not willing to explore that dark thought. “So, who put him there?” I asked, to get the discussion going again.

  “And why?” Alcide asked.

  “Would it be too much to ask where he is now?” Eric managed to look as if he were indulging two rowdy children.

  Alcide and I shot each other glances. “Um, well, he’s . . .” My voice trailed away.

  Eric inhaled, sampling the apartment’s atmosphere. “The body’s not here. You called the police?”

  “Well, no,” I muttered. “Actually, we, ah . . .”

  “We dumped him out in the country,” Alcide said. There just wasn’t a nice way to say it.

  We had surprised Eric a second time. “Well,” he said blankly. “Aren’t you two enterprising?”

  “We worked it all out,” I said, maybe sounding a tad defensive.

  Eric smiled. It was not a happy sight. “Yes, I’ll bet you did.”

  “The packmaster came to see me today,” Alcide said. “Just now, in fact. And he didn’t know that Jerry was missing. In fact, Jerry went complaining to Terence after he left the bar last night, telling Terence he had a grievance against me. So he was seen and heard after the incident at Josephine’s.”

  “So you may have gotten away with it.”

  “I think we did.”

  “You should have burned him,” Eric said. “It would have killed any trace of your smell on him.”

  “I don’t think anyone could pick out our smell,” I told him. “Really and truly. I don’t think we ever touched him with our bare skin.”

  Eric looked at Alcide, and Alcide nodded. “I agree,” he said. “And I’m one of the two-natured.”

  Eric shrugged. “I have no idea who would have killed him and put him in the apartment. Obviously, someone wanted his death blamed on you.”

  “Then why not call the police from a pay phone and tell them there’s a dead body in 504?”

  “A good question, Sookie, and one I can’t answer right now.” Eric seemed to lose interest all of a sudden. “I will be at the club tonight. If I need to talk to you, Alcide, tell Russell that I am your friend from out of town, and I’ve been invited to meet Sookie, your new girlfriend.”

  “Okay,” said Alcide. “But I don’t understand why you want to be there. It’s asking for trouble. What if one of the vamps recognizes you?”

  “I don’t know any of them.”

  “Why are you taking this chance?” I asked. “Why go there at all?”

  “There may be something I can pick up on that you won’t hear of, or that Alcide won’t know because he is not a vampire,” Eric said reasonably. “Excuse us for a minute, Alcide. Sookie and I have some business to discuss.”

  Alcide looked at me to make sure I was okay with this, before he nodded grudgingly and went out to the living room.

  Eric said abruptly, “Do you want me to heal the marks on your shoulder?”

  I thought of the ugly, crusty crescents, and I thought about the thin shoulder straps on the dress I’d brought to wear. I almost said yes, but then I had a second thought. “How would I explain that, Eric? The whole bar saw him grab me.”

  “You’re right.” Eric shook his head, his eyes closed, as if he were angry with himself. “Of course. You’re not Were, you’re not undead. How would you have healed so quickly?”

  Then he did something else unexpected. Eric took my right hand with both of his and gripped it. He looked directly into my face. “I have searched Jackson. I have looked in warehouses, cemeteries, farmhouses, and anyplace that had a trace of vampire scent about it: every property Edgington owns, and some his followers own. I haven’t found a trace of Bill. I am very afraid, Sookie, that it is becoming most likely that Bill is dead. Finally dead.”

  I felt like he’d smacked me in the middle of the forehead with a sledgehammer. My knees just folded, and if he hadn’t mov
ed quick as lightning, I’d have been on the floor. Eric sat on a chair that was in the corner of the room, and he gathered me up into a bundle in his lap. He said, “I’ve upset you too much. I was trying to be practical, and instead I was . . .”

  “Brutal.” I felt a tear trickle out of each eye.

  Eric’s tongue darted out, and I felt a tiny trace of moisture as he licked up my tears. Vampires just seem to like any body fluid, if they can’t get blood, and that didn’t particularly bother me. I felt glad someone was holding me in a comforting way, even if it was Eric. I sunk deeper into misery while Eric spent a few moments thinking.

  “The only place I haven’t checked is Russell Edgington’s compound—his mansion, with its outbuildings. It would be amazing if Russell were rash enough to keep another vampire prisoner in his own home. But he’s been king for a hundred years. It could be that he is that confident. Maybe I could sneak in over the wall, but I wouldn’t come out again. The grounds are patrolled by Weres. It’s very unlikely we’ll get access to such a secure place, and he won’t invite us in except in very unusual circumstances.” Eric let all this sink in. “I think you must tell me what you know about Bill’s project.”

  “Is that what all this holding and niceness is about?” I was furious. “You want to get some information out of me?” I leaped up, revitalized with wrath.

  Eric jumped up himself and did his best to loom over me. “I think Bill is dead,” he said. “And I’m trying to save my own life, and yours, you stupid woman.” Eric sounded just as angry as I was.

  “I will find Bill,” I said, enunciating each world carefully. I wasn’t sure how I was going to accomplish this, but I’d just do some very good spying tonight, and something would turn up. I am no Pollyanna, but I have always been optimistic.

  “You can’t make eyes at Edgington, Sookie. He’s not interested in women. And if I flirted with him, he would be suspicious. A vampire mating with another—that’s unusual. Edgington hasn’t gotten where he is by being gullible. Maybe his second, Betty Joe, would be interested in me, but she is a vampire, too, and the same rule applies. I can’t tell you how unusual Bill’s fascination with Lorena is. In fact, we disapprove of vampires loving others of our kind.”

  I ignored his last two sentences. “How’d you find all this out?”

  “I met up with a young female vampire last night, and her boyfriend also went to parties at Edgington’s place.”

  “Oh, he’s bi?”

  Eric shrugged. “He’s a werewolf, so I guess he’s two-natured in more ways than one.”

  “I thought vamps didn’t date werewolves, either.”

  “She is being perverse. The young ones like to experiment.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So, what you’re saying is that I need to concentrate on getting an invitation into Edgington’s compound, since there’s nowhere else in Jackson that Bill can be hidden?”

  “He could be somewhere else in the city,” Eric said cautiously. “But I don’t think so. The possibility is faint. Remember, Sookie, they’ve had him for days now.” When Eric looked at me, what I saw in his face was pity.

  That frightened me more than anything.

  Chapter Nine

  I HAD THE shivery, shaky feeling that precedes walking into danger. This was the last night that Alcide could go to Club Dead: Terence had warned him away, very definitely. After this, I would be on my own, if I were even allowed into the club when Alcide did not escort me.

  As I dressed, I found myself wishing I were going to an ordinary vampire bar, the kind where regular humans came to gape at the undead. Fangtasia, Eric’s bar in Shreveport, was such a place. People would actually come through on tours, make an evening of wearing all black, maybe pouring on a little fake blood or inserting some cheesy fake fangs. They’d stare at the vampires carefully planted throughout the bar, and they’d thrill at their own daring. Every now and then, one of these tourists would step across the line that kept them safe. Maybe he’d make a pass at one of the vamps, or maybe he’d disrespect Chow, the bartender. Then, perhaps, that tourist would find out what he’d been messing with.

  At a bar like Club Dead, all the cards were out on the table. Humans were the adornments, the frills. The supernaturals were the necessity.

  I’d been excited this time the night before. Now I just felt a detached sort of determination, like I was on a powerful drug that divorced me from all my more ordinary emotions. I pulled on my hose and some pretty black garters that Arlene had given me for my birthday. I smiled as I thought of my red-haired friend and her incredible optimism about men, even after four marriages. Arlene would tell me to enjoy the minute, the second, with every bit of zest I could summon up. She would tell me I never knew what man I might meet, maybe tonight would be the magic night. Maybe wearing garters would change the course of my life, Arlene would tell me.

  I can’t say I exactly summoned up a smile, but I felt a little less grim as I pulled my dress over my head. It was the color of champagne. There wasn’t much of it. I had on black heels and jet earrings, and I was trying to decide if my old coat would look too horrible, or if I should just freeze my butt off out of vanity. Looking at the very worn blue cloth coat, I sighed. I carried it into the living room over my arm. Alcide was ready, and he was standing in the middle of the room waiting for me. Just as I registered the fact that he was looking distinctly nervous, Alcide pulled one of the wrapped boxes out of the pile he’d collected during his morning shopping. He got that self-conscious look on his face, the one he’d been wearing when I’d returned to the apartment.

  “I think I owe you this,” he said. And handed me the large box.

  “Oh, Alcide! You got me a present?” I know, I know, I was standing there holding the box. But you have to understand, this is not something that happens to me very often.

  “Open it,” he said gruffly.

  I tossed the coat onto the nearest chair and I unwrapped the gift awkwardly—I wasn’t used to my fake nails. After a little maneuvering, I opened the white cardboard box to find that Alcide had replaced my evening wrap. I pulled out the long rectangle slowly, savoring every moment. It was beautiful; a black velvet wrap with beading on the ends. I couldn’t help but realize that it cost five times what I’d spent on the one that had been damaged.

  I was speechless. That hardly ever happens to me. But I don’t get too many presents, and I don’t take them lightly. I wrapped the velvet around me, luxuriating in the feel of it. I rubbed my cheek against it.

  “Thank you,” I said, my voice wobbling.

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “God, don’t cry, Sookie. I meant you to be happy.”

  “I’m real happy,” I said. “I’m not going to cry.” I choked back the tears, and went to look at myself in the mirror in my bathroom. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” I said, my heart in my voice.

  “Good, glad you like it,” Alcide said brusquely. “I thought it was the least I could do.” He arranged the wrap so that the material covered the red, scabbed marks on my left shoulder.

  “You didn’t owe me a thing,” I said. “It’s me that owes you.” I could tell that my being serious worried Alcide just as much as my crying. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go to Club Dead. We’ll learn everything, tonight, and no one will get hurt.”

  Which just goes to prove I don’t have second sight.

  ALCIDE WAS WEARING a different suit and I a different dress, but Josephine’s seemed just the same. Deserted sidewalk, atmosphere of doom. It was even colder tonight, cold enough for me to see my breath on the air, cold enough to make me pathetically grateful for the warmth of the velvet wrap. Tonight, Alcide practically leaped from the truck to the cover of the awning, not even helping me down, and then stood under it waiting for me.

  “Full moon,” he explained tersely. “It’ll be a tense night.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling helpless. “This must be awfully hard on you.” If he hadn’t been obliged to accompany me, he could have been off bounding
through the woods after deer and bunnies. He shrugged my apology off. “There’ll always be tomorrow night,” he said. “That’s almost as good.” But he was humming with tension.

  Tonight I didn’t jump quite so much when the truck rolled away, apparently on its own, and I didn’t even quiver when Mr. Hob opened the door. I can’t say the goblin looked pleased to see us, but I couldn’t tell you what his ordinary facial expression really meant. So he could have been doing emotional cartwheels of joy, and I wouldn’t have known it.

  Somehow, I doubted he was that excited about my second appearance in his club. Or was he the owner? It was hard to imagine Mr. Hob naming a club “Josephine’s.” “Dead Rotten Dog,” maybe, or “Flaming Maggots,” but not “Josephine’s.”

  “We won’t have trouble tonight,” Mr. Hob told us grimly. His voice was bumpy and rusty, as if he didn’t talk much, and didn’t enjoy it when he did.

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Alcide said.

  “Nonetheless,” Hob said, and left it at that. He probably felt he didn’t need to say anything else, and he was right. The short, lumpy goblin jerked his head at a group of tables that had been pushed together. “The king is waiting for you.”

  The men stood as I reached the table. Russell Edgington and his special friend Talbot were facing the dance floor; and across from them were an older (well, he’d become undead when he was older) vampire, and a woman, who of course stayed seated. My gaze trailed over her, came back, and I shrieked with delight.