Dead Reckoning

by Harris, Charlaine

  “What a strange thing to say, my lover.” Eric took a swallow of his drink, set it down on the old coffee table. “Are you saying that if I didn’t know you needed me, I wouldn’t need you?”

  Was that what I was saying? “I don’t think so. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you’d want me to live with you unless you felt like people were out to get me.” Was that the same thing? Geez Louise, I hated conversations like this. Not that I’d ever had one before.

  “What difference does that make?” he said, more than a trace of impatience in his voice. “If I want you with me, I want you. The circumstances don’t matter.”

  “But they do matter. And we’re so different.”

  “What?”

  “Well, there are so many things you take for granted that I don’t.”

  Eric rolled his eyes. A total guy. “Like what?”

  I groped around for an example. “Well, like Appius having sex with Alexei. It was not a big deal for you, even though Alexei was thirteen.” Eric’s maker, Appius Livius Ocella, had become a vampire during the time when Romans ruled much of the world.

  “Sookie, it was what you call a done deal long before I even knew I had a brother. In Ocella’s time, people were reckoned practically grown at thirteen. They were even married that young. Ocella never understood some of the changes in society that came with the centuries. And Alexei and Ocella are both dead now.” Eric shrugged. “There was another side of that coin, you remember? Alexei used his youth, his childlike looks, to disarm all the vampires and humans around him. Even Pam was loath to put him down, though she knew how destructive he was, how insane. And she’s the most ruthless vampire I know. He was a drain on all of us, sucking the will and force from us with the depth of his need.”

  And with that unexpectedly poetic sentence, Eric was done talking about Alexei and Ocella. His whole face turned stony. I recalled my main point: our irreconcilable differences. “What about the fact that you’re going to outlive me for, like, forever?”

  “We can take care of that easily enough.”

  I just stared at him.

  “What?” Eric said, almost genuinely amazed. “You don’t want to live forever? With me?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, finally. I tried to imagine it. The night, forever. Endless. But with Eric!

  I said, “You know, Eric, I can’t . . .” And then I stopped dead. I’d almost insulted him unforgivably. I knew he felt the wave of doubt emanating from me.

  I’d almost said, “I just can’t imagine you sticking around after I start to look old.”

  Though there were a few more topics I had hoped we’d cover in our rare tête-à-tête, I felt the conversation was teetering on the edge of Disaster Canyon. Maybe it was lucky there was knocking at the back door. I’d heard the car coming, but my attention had been so focused on my companion that I hadn’t really registered its meaning.

  Amelia Broadway and Bob Jessup were at the back door. Amelia looked the same as ever: healthy and fresh faced, her short brown hair tousled and her skin and eyes clear. Bob, not much taller than Amelia and equally lean, was a small-boned guy who looked kind of like a sexy Mormon missionary. His black-framed glasses managed to look retro instead of geeky. He was wearing jeans, a black-and-white plaid shirt, and tasseled loafers. He’d been a very cute cat, but his attraction as a guy escaped me—or rather it showed itself to me only now and then.

  I beamed at them. It felt great to see Amelia, and I felt relieved that my conversation with Eric had been interrupted. We did have to talk about our future, but I had a creepy feeling that finishing that conversation would make both of us unhappy. Postponing it probably wouldn’t change that outcome, but both Eric and I had enough on our plates of problems. “Come on in!” I said. “Eric’s here, and he’ll be glad to see you both.”

  Of course, that wasn’t true. Eric was completely indifferent about ever seeing Amelia again in his life—his long, long life—and Bob didn’t even register on Eric’s radar.

  But Eric smiled (though not a large smile) and told them how glad he was they’d come to visit me—though there was a bit of a question in his voice, since he didn’t know why they were here. No matter how long a talk Eric and I had, we never seemed to cover enough ground.

  With a huge effort, Amelia repressed a frown. She was not a fan of the Viking. And she was a very clear broadcaster, so I got that with as much volume as if she’d yelled out loud. Bob eyed Eric with caution, and as soon as I’d explained the bedroom situation to Amelia (of course, she’d assumed they’d be upstairs), Bob vanished into the room across from mine with their bags. After a few minutes fiddling around in there, he ducked into the hall bathroom. Bob had gotten good at evasiveness while he was a cat.

  “Eric,” Amelia said, stretching unself-consciously. “How are things going at Fangtasia? How’s the new management?” She couldn’t know she’d hit a nerve. And when Eric’s eyes narrowed—I suspected that he thought she’d said that on purpose to rile him—Amelia was staring at her toes as she touched them with the palms of her hands. I wondered if I could do that, and then my mind snapped back to the current moment.

  “Business is going all right,” Eric said. “Victor has opened some new clubs close by.”

  Amelia understood immediately that this was a bad development, but she was smart enough not to say anything. Honestly, it was like being in the room with someone who was shouting her inmost thoughts. “Victor’s the smiley guy who was out in the yard the night of the takeover, right?” she said, straightening and rotating her head from side to side.

  “Yes,” Eric said, one corner of his mouth going up in a sardonic look. “The smiley guy.”

  “So, Sook, what troubles do you have now?” Amelia asked me, evidently considering that she’d been polite enough to Eric. She was ready to plunge into whatever problem I described.

  “Yes,” Eric said, looking at me with hard eyes. “What troubles do you have now?”

  “I was just going to get Amelia to reinforce the wards around the house,” I said casually. “Since so much stuff has happened at Merlotte’s I was feeling kind of insecure.”

  “So she called me,” Amelia said pointedly.

  Eric looked from me to Amelia. He looked mighty displeased. “But now that the bitch has been cornered, Sookie, surely the threat’s been removed?”

  “What?” Amelia asked. It was her turn to look from face to face. “What happened tonight, Sookie?”

  I told her, briefly. “I’d still feel better if you made sure the wards were in place, though.”

  “That’s one of the things I’ve come to do, Sookie.” For some reason, she smiled broadly at Eric.

  Bob sidled in then and took up a position beside Amelia but slightly behind her. “Those weren’t my kittens,” he told me, and Eric gaped. I’d seldom seen him genuinely startled. It was all I could do to keep from laughing. “I mean, weres can’t breed with the animal they turn into. So I don’t think those were my kittens. Especially since—think about it!—I was only a cat by magic, not a genetic were.”

  Amelia said, “Honey, we’ve talked about this. You don’t need to be embarrassed. It was a perfectly natural thing to do. I admit I got a little snitty about it, but, you know . . . the whole thing was my fault, anyway.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Bob. Sam already spoke up in your defense.” I smiled at Bob, who looked relieved.

  Eric decided to ignore this exchange. “Sookie, I need to get back to Fangtasia.”

  We would never have a chance to say the things we needed to say, at this rate. “Okay, Eric. Tell Pam I said hello, if you two are back to speaking.”

  “She’s a better friend to you than you know,” Eric said darkly.

  I didn’t know how to respond to that, and he turned so quickly my eyes couldn’t track him. I heard his car door slam outside, and then he was driving down the driveway. No matter how many times I saw it, I still found it amazing that vamps could move so fast.

&n
bsp; I’d hoped to have a chance to talk more to Amelia that night, but she and Bob were ready to turn in after their drive. They’d left New Orleans after a full day’s work, Amelia at the Genuine Magic Shop and Bob at the Happy Cutter. After fifteen minutes or so of going to and fro between the bathroom and the kitchen and the car, they became silent in the room across the hall. I’d taken off my shoes, and I padded into the kitchen to lock up.

  I was just expelling a sigh of relief at the end of the day when there was a very quiet knock at the back door. I jumped like a frog. Who could be there at this time of night? I looked out across the back porch very cautiously.

  Bill. I hadn’t seen him since his “sister” Judith had come to see him. I debated for a second, then decided to slip outside to talk to him. Bill was a lot of things to me: neighbor, friend, first lover. I did not fear him.

  “Sookie,” he said, his cool, smooth voice as relaxing as a massage. “You have guests?”

  “Amelia and Bob,” I explained. “They just got here from New Orleans. The fairies aren’t here tonight. They stay in Monroe most nights, lately.”

  “Shall we stay out here, so we won’t wake your friends?”

  It was news to me that our conversation was going to last that long. Apparently, Bill hadn’t come over just to borrow a cup of blood. I waved my hand toward the lawn furniture, and we sat in the chairs, already placed at a companionable angle. The warm night with its myriad small sounds closed around us like an envelope. The security light gave the backyard strange patterns of dark and brightness.

  When the silence had lasted long enough for me to realize I was sleepy, I said, “How’s things going at your house, Bill? Is Judith still staying with you?”

  “I’m fully healed from the silver poisoning,” he said.

  “I, ah, I noticed you looked good,” I said. His skin had regained its pale clarity, and even his hair looked more lustrous. “Much better. So Judith’s blood worked.”

  “Yes. But now . . .” He looked off into the night forest.

  Uh-oh. “She wants to keep on living with you?”

  “Yes,” he said, sounding relieved he hadn’t had to spell it out. “She does.”

  “I thought you admired her because she looked so much like your first wife. Judith told me that’s why crazy Lorena changed Judith over, to keep you with her. I mean, sorry to bring up bad stuff.”

  “It’s true. Judith does look like my first wife, in many respects. Her face is the same shape, her voice very like my wife’s. Her hair is the same color my wife’s was when she was a child. And Judith was raised very gently, like my wife.”

  “So, I would have predicted that would make you happy with Judith,” I said.

  “But not.” He sounded rueful, and he kept his eyes on the trees, carefully averting his gaze from my face. “And in fact, that’s why I didn’t call Judith when I realized how sick I was. I had to part with her the last time we were together because of her overwhelming obsession with me.”

  “Oh,” I said, my voice very small.

  “But you did the right thing, Sookie. She came to me and freely offered her blood. Since you invited her here without my knowledge, I’m at least not guilty of using her. My fault lies in letting her stay after . . . after I healed.”

  “And why’d you do that?”

  “Because I hoped somehow my feelings for her had changed, that I could have a genuine love for her. That would have freed me from . . .” His voice trailed off.

  He might have finished the sentence, “loving you.” Or maybe, “freed me from the debt I owed her for healing me.”

  I did feel a little better now that I knew he was glad to be well, even though the price was that he had to deal with Judith. And I could understand how awkward and unpleasant it would be to be saddled with a houseguest who adored you when you didn’t return the emotion. Who was the one who’d saddled him? Well, that would be me. Of course, I hadn’t known any of the emotional background. Distressed by Bill’s condition, I’d reasoned that someone of Bill’s bloodline could heal him, and I’d found that there was such a person and tracked her down. I’d further assumed Bill hadn’t done that himself from some perverse pride or perhaps even from a suicidal depression. I’d underestimated Bill’s desire to live.

  “What do you plan to do about Judith?” I asked anxiously, scared to hear his answer.

  “He need not do anything,” a quiet voice said from the trees.

  I came up out of my chair like someone had just shot a few volts through it, and Bill had a big reaction. He turned his head and his eyes widened. That was it, but for a vampire, that indicates major surprise.

  “Judith?” I said.

  She stepped out of the tree line, far enough for me to recognize her. The security light in the backyard didn’t extend that far, and I could only just be sure it was her.

  “You keep breaking my heart, Bill,” she said.

  I eased away from the chair. Maybe I could slink back into the house. Maybe I could avoid witnessing another major scene—because honestly, the day had been chock-full of them.

  “No, stay, Miss Stackhouse,” Judith said. She was a short, round woman with a sweet face and an abundance of hair, and she carried herself as if she were six feet tall.

  Dammit. “You two obviously need to talk,” I said cravenly.

  “Any conversation with Bill about love has to include you,” she said.

  Oh . . . poop. I so did not want to be present for this. I stared down at my feet.

  “Judith, stop,” Bill said, his voice as calm as ever. “I came over to talk to my friend, whom I haven’t seen for weeks.”

  “I heard your conversation,” Judith said simply. “I followed you here for the express purpose of listening to whatever you had to say to her. I know that you’re not making love to this woman. I know that she’s claimed by another. And I also know that you want her more than you ever wanted me. I will not have sex with a man who pities me. I will not live with a man who doesn’t want me. I’m worth more than that. I’ll stop loving you if it takes me the rest of my existence. If you’ll remain here a few moments, I’ll return to your house and pack my things and be gone.”

  I was impressed. That was a damn fine speech, and I hoped she meant every word. Even as I had the thought, Judith was gone—whoosh!—and Bill and I were alone together.

  Suddenly he was right in front of me, and he put his cold arms around me. It didn’t seem like a betrayal of Eric to let Bill simply hold me for a moment.

  “You had sex with her?” I said, trying to sound neutral.

  “She had saved me. She seemed to expect it. I felt it was the right thing to do,” he said.

  As if Judith had sneezed so he’d lent her a handkerchief. I really couldn’t think of what to say. Men! Dead or alive, they could be exactly the same.

  I stepped back, and he dropped his arms instantly.

  “Do you really love me?” I said, out of either insanity or sheer curiosity. “Or have we just been through so much that you think you ought to?”

  He smiled. “Only you would say that. I love you. I think you’re beautiful and kind and good, and yet you stand up for yourself. You have a lot of understanding and compassion, but you’re not a pushover. And to descend a few levels to the carnal, you have a pair of breasts that should win the Miss America Tit Competition, if there were such a thing.”

  “That’s an unusual bunch of compliments.” I had a hard time suppressing my own smile.

  “You’re an unusual woman.”

  “Good night, Bill,” I said. Just then my cell phone rang. I jumped a mile. I’d forgotten it was in my pocket. When I looked at the number, it was a local one I didn’t recognize. No call at this hour of the night was a good one. I held up a finger to ask Bill to wait for a moment, and I answered it with a cautious “Hello?”

  “Sookie,” said Sheriff Dearborn, “I thought you oughta know that Sandra Pelt escaped from the hospital. She snuck out the window while Kenya was talking t
o Dr. Tonnesen. I don’t want you to be worried. If you need us to send a car out to your house, we will. You got someone with you?”

  I was so shocked I couldn’t reply for a second. Then I said, “Yes, I have someone with me.”

  Bill’s dark eyes were serious now. He stepped closer and put one hand on my shoulder.

  “You want me to send a patrol car? I don’t think that crazy woman will head out to find you. I think she’ll find somewhere to hole up and recover. But it seemed like the right thing, telling you, even though it’s the middle of the night.”

  “Definitely the right thing to do, Sheriff. I don’t think I need more help out here. I’ve got friends here. Good friends.” And I met Bill’s eyes.

  Bud Dearborn said the same things all over again several times, but eventually I got to hang up and think about the implications. I’d thought one line of troubles was closed, but I’d been wrong. While I was explaining to Bill, the weariness that had manifested itself earlier began to sweep over me like a blanket of gray. By the time I’d finished answering his questions, I could barely put two words together.

  “Don’t worry,” Bill said. “Go to bed. I’ll watch tonight. I’ve already fed, and I wasn’t busy. It doesn’t feel like a good night for work, anyway.” Bill had created and maintained a CD called The Vampire Directory, which was a catalog of all “living” vampires. It was in popular demand not only among the undead but also among the living, particularly marketing groups. However, the version sold to the public was limited to vampires who’d given their permission to be included, a much shorter list. There were still vampires who didn’t want to be known as vampires, odd as that seemed to me. It was easy to forget, in today’s vampire-saturated culture, that there were still holdouts, vampires who didn’t want to be known to the public in general, vampires who preferred to sleep in the earth or in abandoned buildings rather than in a house or apartment.

  And why I was thinking of this . . . Well, it was better than thinking about Sandra Pelt.

  “Thanks, Bill,” I said gratefully. “I warn you, she’s vicious to the nth degree.”