hear something the regular way—through my ears—maybe you should tell me the circumstances.”

As we drove by what Alcide said was the old train station, I gave him a quick summary. I caught a glimpse of a street sign reading “Amite” as we pulled up to an awning that stretched over a deserted length of sidewalk in the outskirts of downtown Jackson. The area directly under the awning was lit with a brilliant and cold light. Somehow that length of sidewalk seemed creepily ominous, especially since the rest of the street was dark. Uneasiness crawled down my back. I felt a deep reluctance to stop at that bit of sidewalk.

It was a stupid feeling, I told myself. It was just a stretch of cement. No beasts were in sight. After the businesses closed at five, downtown Jackson was not exactly teeming, even under ordinary circumstances. I was willing to bet that most of the sidewalks in the whole state of Mississippi were bare on this cold December night.

But there was something ominous in the air, a watchfulness laced with a charge of malice. The eyes observing us were invisible; but they were observing us, nonetheless. When Alcide climbed out of the truck and came around to help me down, I noticed that he left the keys in the ignition. I swung my legs outward and put my hands on his shoulders, my long silk stole wound firmly around me and trailing behind, fringe trembling in a gust of chilled air. I pushed off as he lifted, and then I was on the sidewalk.

The truck drove away.

I looked at Alcide sideways, to see if this was startling to him, but he looked quite matter-of-fact. “Vehicles parked in front would attract attention from the general public,” he told me, his voice hushed in the vast silence of that coldly lit bit of pavement.

“They can come in? Regular people?” I asked, nodding toward the single metal door. It looked as uninviting as a door can look. There was no name anywhere on it, or on the building, for that matter. No Christmas decorations, either. (Of course, vampires don’t observe holidays, except for Halloween. It’s the ancient festival of Samhain dressed up in trappings that the vamps find delightful. So Halloween’s a great favorite, and it’s celebrated worldwide in the vamp community.)

“Sure, if they want to pay a twenty-dollar cover charge to drink the worst drinks in five states. Served by the rudest waiters. Very slowly.”

I tried to smother my smile. This was not a smiley kind of place. “And if they stick that out?”

“There’s no floor show, no one speaks to them, and if they last much longer, they find themselves out on the sidewalk getting into their car with no memory of how they got there.”

He grasped the handle of the door and pulled it open. The dread that soaked the air did not seem to affect Alcide.

We stepped into a tiny hall that was blocked by another door after about four feet. There, again, I knew we were being watched, though I couldn’t see a camera or a peephole anywhere.

“What’s the name of this place?” I whispered.

“The vamp that owns it calls it Josephine’s,” he said, just as quietly. “But Weres call it Club Dead.”

I thought about laughing, but the inner door opened just then.

The doorman was a goblin.

I had never seen one before, but the word “goblin” popped into my mind as if I had a supernatural dictionary printed on the inside of my eyeballs. He was very short and very cranky-looking, with a knobby face and broad hands. His eyes were full of fire and malignance. He glared up at us as if customers were the last things he needed.

Why any ordinary person would walk into Josephine’s after the cumulative effect of the haunted sidewalk, the vanishing vehicle, and the goblin at the door . . . well, some people are just born asking to be killed, I guess.

“Mr. Herveaux,” the goblin said slowly, in a deep, growly voice. “Good to have you back. Your companion is. . . ?”

“Miss Stackhouse,” Alcide said. “Sookie, this is Mr. Hob.” The goblin examined me with glowing eyes. He looked faintly troubled, as if he couldn’t quite fit me into a slot; but after a second, he stood aside to let us pass.

Josephine’s was not very crowded. Of course, it was somewhat early for its patrons. After the eerie build-up, the large room looked almost disappointingly like any other bar. The serving area