Bubba had gotten impatient.
"Now, I asked you - " I began, starting to turn, but never got further. A hand grasped my shoulder and whirled me around. I was facing a man I'd never seen before. He was cocking his fist to punch me in the head.
Though the vampire blood I had ingested a few months ago (to save my life, let me point out) has mostly worn off - I barely glow in the dark at all now - I'm still quicker than most people. I dropped and rolled into the man's legs, which made him stagger, which made it easier for Bubba to grab him and crush his throat.
I scrambled to my feet and Sam rushed out of his office. We stared at each other, Bubba, and the dead man.
Well, now we were really in a pickle.
"I've kilt him," Bubba said proudly. "I saved you, Miss Sookie."
Having the Man from Memphis appear in your bar, realizing he's become a vampire, and watching him kill a would-be assailant - well, that was a lot to absorb in a couple of minutes, even for Sam, though he himself was more than he appeared.
"Well, so you have," Sam said to Bubba in a soothing voice. "Do you know who he was?"
I had never seen a dead man - outside of visitation at the local funeral home - until I'd started dating Bill (who of course was technically dead, but I mean human dead people).
It seems I run across them now quite often. Lucky I'm not too squeamish.
This particular dead man had been in his forties, and every year of that had been hard. He had tattoos all over his arms, mostly of the poor quality you get in jail, and he was missing some crucial teeth. He was dressed in what I thought of as biker clothes: greasy blue jeans and a leather vest, with an obscene T-shirt underneath.
"What's on the back of the vest?" Sam asked, as if that would have significance for him.
Bubba obligingly squatted and rolled the man to his side. The way the man's hand flopped at the end of his arm made me feel pretty queasy. But I forced myself to look at the vest. The back was decorated with a wolf's head insignia. The wolf was in profile, and seemed to be howling. The head was silhouetted against a white circle, which I decided was supposed to be the moon. Sam looked even more worried when he saw the insignia. "Werewolf," he said tersely. That explained a lot.
The weather was too chilly for a man wearing only a vest, if he wasn't a vampire. Weres ran a little hotter than regular people, but mostly they were careful to wear coats in cold weather, since Were society was still secret from the human race (except for lucky, lucky me, and probably a few hundred others). I wondered if the dead man had left a coat out in the bar hanging on the hooks by the main entrance; in which case, he'd been back here hiding in the men's room, waiting for me to appear. Or maybe he'd come through the back door right after me. Maybe his coat was in his vehicle.
"You see him come in?" I asked Bubba. I was maybe just a little light-headed.
"Yes, ma'am. He must have been waiting in the big parking lot for you. He drove around the corner, got out of his car, and went in the back just a minute after you did. You hightailed it through the door, and then he went in. And I followed him. You mighty lucky you had me with you."
"Thank you, Bubba. You're right; I'm lucky to have you. I wonder what he planned to do with me." I felt cold all over as I thought about it. Had he just been looking for a lone woman to grab, or did he plan on grabbing me specifically? Then I realized that was dumb thinking. If Eric had been alarmed enough to send a bodyguard, he must have known there was a threat, which pretty much ruled out me being targeted at random. Without comment, Bubba strode out the back door. He returned in just a minute.
"He's got him some duct tape and gags on the front seat of his car," Bubba said. "That's where his coat is. I brought it to put under his head." He bent to arrange the heavily padded camouflage jacket around the dead man's face and neck. Wrapping the