Dead Until Dark - By Charlaine Harris Page 0,90

old ways.”

“What is she to him?”

“He made her. That is, he made her vampire, centuries ago. She comes back to him from time to time and helps him do whatever he is doing at the moment. Eric’s always been something of a rogue, and the older he gets the more willful he gets.” Calling Eric willful seemed a huge understatement to me.

“So, have we talked our way around in circles?” I asked.

Bill seemed to be considering. “Yes,” he confirmed, a tinge of regret in his voice. “You don’t like associating with vampires other than myself, and I have told you we have no choice.”

“How about this Desiree thing?”

“He had someone drop her off on my doorstep, hoping I would be pleased he’d sent me a pretty gift. Also, it would test my devotion to you if I drank from her. Perhaps he poisoned her blood somehow, and her blood would have weakened me. Maybe she would just have been a crack in my armor.” He shrugged. “Did you think I had a date?”

“Yes.” I felt my face harden, thinking about Bill walking in with the girl.

“You weren’t at home. I had to come find you.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but it wasn’t happy, either.

“I was trying to help Jason out by listening. And I was still upset from last night.”

“Are we all right now?”

“No, but we’re as all right as we can get,” I said. “I guess no matter who I cared for, it wouldn’t always go smooth. But I hadn’t counted on obstacles this drastic. There’s no way you can ever outrank Eric, I guess, since age is the criterion?”

“No,” said Bill. “Not outrank . . .” and he suddenly looked thoughtful. “Though there may be something I can do along those lines. I don’t want to—it goes against my nature—but we would be more secure.”

I let him think.

“Yes,” he concluded, ending his long brood. He didn’t offer to explain, and I didn’t ask.

“I love you,” he said, as if that was the bottom line to whatever course of action he was considering. His face loomed over me, luminous and beautiful in the half-darkness.

“I feel the same about you,” I said, and put my hands against his chest so he wouldn’t tempt me. “But we have too much against us right now. If we can pry Eric off our backs, that would help. And another thing, we have to stop this murder investigation. That would be a second big piece of trouble off our backs. This murderer has the deaths of your friends to answer for, and the deaths of Maudette and Dawn to answer for.” I paused, took a deep breath. “And the death of my grandmother.” I blinked back tears. I’d gotten adjusted to Gran not being in the house when I came home, and I was getting used to not talking to her and sharing my day with her, but every now and then I had a stab of grief so acute it robbed me of breath.

“Why do you think the same killer is responsible for the Monroe vampires being burned?”

“I think it was the murderer who planted this idea, this vigilante thing, in the men in the bar that night. I think it was the murderer who went from group to group, egging the guys on. I’ve lived here all my life, and I’ve never seen people around here act that way. There’s got to be a reason they did this time.”

“He agitated them? Fomented the burning?”

“Yes.”

“Listening hasn’t turned up anything?”

“No,” I admitted glumly. “But that’s not to say tomorrow will be the same.”

“You’re an optimist, Sookie.”

“Yes, I am. I have to be.” I patted his cheek, thinking how my optimism had been justified since he had entered my life.

“You keep on listening, since you think it may be fruitful,” he said. “I’ll work on something else, for now. I’ll see you tomorrow evening at your place, okay? I may . . . no, let me explain then.”

“All right.” I was curious, but Bill obviously wasn’t ready to talk.

On my way home, following the taillights of Bill’s car as far as my driveway, I thought of how much more frightening the past few weeks would have been if I hadn’t had the security of Bill’s presence. As I went cautiously down the driveway, I found myself wishing Bill hadn’t felt he had to go home to make some necessary phone calls. The few nights we’d spent apart, I wouldn’t say I’d been exactly writhing with

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