Dead as a doornail - By Charlaine Harris Page 0,39

nodded and took the key.

It was usually a mistake to feel sympathy for a vampire, but I couldn’t help but think there was something sad about Charles. He struck me as lonely, and there’s always something pathetic about loneliness. I’d experienced it myself. I would ferociously deny I was pathetic, but when I viewed loneliness in someone else, I could feel the tug of pity.

I scrubbed my face and pulled on some pink nylon pajamas. I was already half-asleep as I brushed my teeth and crawled into the high old bed my grandmother had slept in until she died. My great-grandmother had made the quilt I pulled over me, and my great-aunt Julia had embroidered the pattern on the edges of the bedspread. Though I might actually be alone in the world—with the exception of my brother, Jason—I went to sleep surrounded by my family.

My deepest sleep is around three a.m., and sometime during that period I was awakened by the grip of a hand on my shoulder.

I was shocked into total awareness, like a person being thrown into a cold pool. To fight off the shock that was close to paralyzing me, I swung my fist. It was caught in a chilly grip.

“No, no, no, ssshhh” came a piercing whisper out of the darkness. English accent. Charles. “Someone’s creeping around outside your house, Sookie.”

My breath was as wheezy as an accordion. I wondered if I was going to have a heart attack. I put a hand over my heart, as if I could hold it in when it seemed determined to pound its way out of my chest.

“Lie down!” he said right into my ear, and then I felt him crouch beside my bed in the shadows. I lay down and closed my eyes almost all the way. The headboard of the bed was situated between the two windows in the room, so whoever was creeping around my house couldn’t really get a good look at my face. I made sure I was lying still and as relaxed as I could get. I tried to think, but I was just too scared. If the creeper was a vampire, he or she couldn’t come in—unless it was Eric. Had I rescinded Eric’s invitation to enter? I couldn’t remember. That’s the kind of thing I need to keep track of, I babbled to myself.

“He’s passed on,” Charles said in a voice so faint it was almost the ghost of a voice.

“What is it?” I asked in a voice I hoped was nearly as soundless.

“It’s too dark outside to tell.” If a vampire couldn’t see what was out there, it must be really dark. “I’ll slip outside and find out.”

“No,” I said urgently, but it was too late.

Jesus Christ, shepherd of Judea! What if the prowler was Mickey? He’d kill Charles—I just knew it.

“Sookie!” The last thing I expected—though frankly, I was way beyond consciously expecting anything—was for Charles to call to me. “Come out here, if you please!”

I slid my feet into my pink fuzzy slippers and hurried down the hall to the back door; that was where the voice had been coming from, I thought.

“I’m turning on the outside light,” I yelled. Didn’t want anyone to be blinded by the sudden electricity. “You sure it’s safe out there?”

“Yes,” said two voices almost simultaneously.

I flipped the switch with my eyes shut. After a second, I opened them and stepped to the door of the screened-in back porch, in my pink jammies and slippers. I crossed my arms over my chest. Though it wasn’t cold tonight, it was cool.

I absorbed the scene in front of me. “Okay,” I said slowly. Charles was in the graveled area where I parked, and he had an elbow around the neck of Bill Compton, my neighbor. Bill is a vampire, has been since right after the Civil War. We have a history. It’s probably just a pebble of a history in Bill’s long life, but in mine, it’s a boulder.

“Sookie,” Bill said between clenched teeth. “I don’t want to cause this foreigner harm. Tell him to get his hands off me.”

I mulled that over at an accelerated rate. “Charles, I think you can let him go,” I said, and as fast as I could snap my fingers, Charles was standing beside me.

“You know this man?” Charles’s voice was steely.

Just as coldly, Bill said, “She does know me, intimately.”

Oh, gack.

“Now, is that polite?” I may have had a little cold steel in my own voice. “I don’t