Dead as a doornail - By Charlaine Harris Page 0,73

not been a vampire, though all the shootings had taken place at dusk or full dark. I’d heard the shooter’s brain in the second before the shot, and that had saved my life.

Bill looked up the instant I moved. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

I pushed the button to raise the head of the bed. “Like hell warmed over,” I said frankly after evaluating my shoulder. “My pain stuff has lapsed, and my shoulder aches like it’s going to fall off. My mouth feels like an army has marched through it, and I need to go to the bathroom in the worst way.”

“I can help you take care of that,” he said, and before I could get embarrassed, he’d moved the IV pole around the bed and helped me up. I stood cautiously, gauging how steady my legs were. He said, “I won’t let you fall.”

“I know,” I said, and we started across the floor to the bathroom. When he got me settled on the toilet, he tactfully stepped out, but left the door cracked while he waited just outside. I managed everything awkwardly, but I became profoundly aware I was lucky I’d been shot in my left shoulder instead of my right. Of course, the shooter must have been aiming for my heart.

Bill got me back into the bed as deftly as if he’d been nursing people all his life. He’d already smoothed the bed and shaken the pillows, and I felt much more comfortable. But the shoulder continued to nag me, and I pressed the pain button. My mouth was dry, and I asked Bill if there was water in the plastic pitcher. Bill pressed the Nurse button. When her tinny voice came over the intercom, Bill said, “Some water for Miss Stackhouse,” and the voice squawked back that she’d be right down. She was, too. Bill’s presence might have had something to do with her speed. People might have accepted the reality of vampires, but that didn’t meant they liked undead Americans. Lots of middle-class Americans just couldn’t relax around vamps. Which was smart of them, I thought.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Grainger,” he said. “I get to sit with you in a different hospital this time.” Last time, I’d been in Renard Parish Hospital in Clarice.

“You can go down the hall and visit Calvin.”

“If I had any interest in doing so.”

He sat on the bed. Something about the deadness of the hour, the strangeness of the night, made me feel like being frank. Maybe it was just the drugs.

“I never was in a hospital till I knew you,” I said.

“Do you blame me?”

“Sometimes.” I watched his face glow. Other people didn’t always know a vamp when they saw one; that was hard for me to understand.

“When I met you, that first night I came into Merlotte’s, I didn’t know what to think of you,” he said. “You were so pretty, so full of vitality. And I could tell there was something different about you. You were interesting.”

“My curse,” I said.

“Or your blessing.” He put one of his cool hands on my cheek. “No fever,” he said to himself. “You’ll heal.” Then he sat up straighter. “You slept with Eric while he was staying with you.”

“Why are you asking, if you already know?” There was such a thing as too much honesty.

“I’m not asking. I knew when I saw you together. I smelled him all over you; I could tell how you felt about him. We’ve had each other’s blood. It’s hard to resist Eric,” Bill went on in a detached way. “He’s as vital as you are, and you share a zest for life. But I’m sure you know that . . .” He paused, seemed to be trying to think how to frame what he wanted to say.

“I know that you’d be happy if I never slept with anyone else in my life,” I said, putting his thoughts into words for him.

“And how do you feel about me?”

“The same. Oh, but wait, you already did sleep with someone else. Before we even broke up.” Bill looked away, the line of his jaw like granite. “Okay, that’s water under the bridge. No, I don’t want to think about you with Selah, or with anyone. But my head knows that’s unreasonable.”

“Is it unreasonable to hope that we’ll be together again?”

I considered the circumstances that had turned me against Bill. I thought of his infidelity with Lorena; but she had been his maker, and he had had to obey