Dead as a doornail - By Charlaine Harris Page 0,40
go around telling everyone the details of our former relationship. I would expect the same of any gentleman.”
To my gratification, Charles glared at Bill, raising one eyebrow in a very superior and irritating way.
“So this one is sharing your bed now?” Bill jerked his head toward the smaller vampire.
If he’d said anything else, I could’ve held on to my temper. I don’t lose it a lot, but when I do, it’s well and truly lost. “Is that any of your business?” I asked, biting off each word. “If I sleep with a hundred men, or a hundred sheep, it’s not any of your business! Why are you creeping around my house in the middle of the night? You scared me halfway to death.”
Bill didn’t look remotely repentant. “I’m sorry you wakened and were frightened,” he said insincerely. “I was checking on your safety.”
“You were roaming around the woods and smelled another vampire,” I said. He’d always had an extremely acute sense of smell. “So you came over here to see who it was.”
“I wanted to be sure you weren’t being attacked,” Bill said. “I thought I caught a sniff of human, too. Did you have a human visitor today?”
I didn’t believe for a minute Bill was only concerned with my safety, but I didn’t want to believe jealousy brought him to my window, or some kind of prurient curiosity. I just breathed in and out for a minute, calming down and considering.
“Charles is not attacking me,” I said, proud I was speaking so levelly.
Bill sneered. “Charles,” he repeated in tones of great scorn.
“Charles Twining,” said my companion, bowing—if you could call a slight inclination of his curly brown head a bow.
“Where did you come up with this one?” Bill’s voice had regained its calm.
“Actually, he works for Eric, like you do.”
“Eric’s provided you with a bodyguard? You need a bodyguard?”
“Listen, bozo,” I said through clenched jaws, “my life goes on while you’re gone. So does the town. People are getting shot around here, among them Sam. We needed a substitute bartender, and Charles was volunteered to help us out.” That may not have been entirely accurate, but I was not in the accuracy business at the moment. I was in the Make My Point business.
At least Bill was appropriately taken aback by the information.
“Sam. Who else?”
I was shivering, since it wasn’t nylon pajama weather. But I didn’t want Bill in the house. “Calvin Norris and Heather Kinman.”
“Shot dead?”
“Heather was. Calvin was pretty badly wounded.”
“Have the police arrested anyone?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“No.”
“You’re worried about your brother.”
“Yes.”
“He turned at the full moon.”
“Yes.”
Bill looked at me with what might have been pity. “I’m sorry, Sookie,” he said, and he meant it.
“No point telling me about it,” I snapped. “Tell Jason—it’s him who turns fuzzy.”
Bill’s face went cold and stiff. “Excuse my intrusion,” he said. “I’ll go.” He melted into the woods.
I don’t know how Charles reacted to the episode, because I turned and stalked back into the house, turning off the outside light as I went. I threw myself back in bed and lay there, fuming and fussing silently. I pulled the covers up over my head so the vampire would take the hint that I didn’t want to discuss the incident. He moved so quietly, I couldn’t be sure where he was in the house; I think he paused in the doorway for a second, and then moved on.
I lay awake for at least forty-five minutes, and then I found myself settling back into sleep.
Then someone shook me by the shoulder. I smelled sweet perfume, and I smelled something else, something awful. I was terribly groggy.
“Sookie, your house is on fire,” a voice said.
“Couldn’t be,” I said. “I didn’t leave anything on.”
“You have to get out now,” the voice insisted. A persistent shriek reminded me of fire drills at the elementary school.
“Okay,” I said, my head thick with sleep and (I saw when I opened my eyes) smoke. The shriek in the background, I slowly realized, was my smoke detector. Thick gray plumes were drifting through my yellow and white bedroom like evil genies. I wasn’t moving fast enough for Claudine, who yanked me out of bed and carried me out the front door. A woman had never lifted me, but, of course, Claudine was no ordinary woman. She set me on my feet in the chilly grass of the front yard. The cold feel of it suddenly woke me up. This was not a nightmare.