how good a bite can be, and there was going to be more than biting going on, no matter what.”
“You ever get the same person twice?”
“Not yet. I’m sure they keep a list, trying to keep the vampires and the humans apart after they’ve met at the bureau.”
While we talked, Bill had taken a seat on my own couch, and I tucked my legs under me in the big old armchair that had been Gran’s favorite. It was curiously comfortable to have my first real boyfriend as a casual visitor. We’d both been through a few relationships since we’d broken up. Though Bill had told me (often) that he would be very glad to resume our intimacy, tonight that topic was not on his mind. Not that I could read Bill’s thoughts; since vampires are dead, their brains just don’t spark like human brains. But a man’s body language usually lets me know when he’s considering my womanly attributes. It was really great, really comforting, to have a friendship with Bill.
I had switched on the overhead light, and Bill looked white as a sheet beneath its glare. His glossy dark brown hair looked even darker, his eyes almost black. He was hesitating over his next topic, and I was not as relaxed and comfortable all of a sudden.
“Karin is in town,” he said, and looked at me solemnly.
I could tell I was supposed to be smacked in the face with this information, but I was utterly at sea. “Who would that be?”
“Karin is Eric’s other child,” he said, shocked. “You hadn’t ever heard her name?”
“Why would I? And why should I be excited that she’s in town?”
“Karin is called the Slaughterer.”
“Well, that’s silly. ‘The Slaughterer’ is just . . . cumbersome. ‘Karin the Killer’ would be way better.”
If Bill had been prone to such gestures, he would have rolled his eyes. “Sookie . . .”
“Look at what a great fighter Pam is,” I said, diverted. “Eric must really like strong women who can defend themselves.”
Bill looked at me pointedly. “Yes, he does.”
Okay, I was going to take that as a compliment . . . maybe kind of a sad one. I hadn’t set out to kill people (or vampires or werewolves or fairies) or to conspire to kill them or even to feel like killing them . . . but I had done all those things in the course of the past two years. Since Bill had walked into Merlotte’s and I had seen him—my first vampire—I had learned more about myself and the world around me than I’d ever wanted to know. And now here we were, Bill and me, sitting in my living room like old buddies, talking about a killer vamp.
“You think Karin might be here to hurt me?” I said. I gripped my ankle with my hand and squeezed. Just what I needed, another psycho bitch after me. Hadn’t the Weres pretty much cornered that market?
“That’s not the feeling I get,” Bill said.
“She’s not out to get me?” Your life was not right when you were actually surprised that someone didn’t want to kill you.
“No. She asked me many, many questions about you, about Bon Temps, about the strong people and the weak people in your circle. She would have told me if her intent had been to harm you. Karin is not as complex as Pam . . . or Eric, for that matter.”
I had about four instant responses to Bill’s information, but I wisely shut my mouth on all of them. “I wonder why she didn’t come right to my door to ask, if she wanted to know all that,” I contented myself with saying.
“I believe she was gathering information for some purpose of her own.”
Sometimes I just didn’t get vampires.
“There are a few things you need to understand about Karin,” Bill said briskly, when I didn’t respond out loud. “She takes . . . umbrage . . . at any perceived slight to Eric, any disparagement. She was with him for many years. She was his guard dog.”
I was glad I always had a Word of the Day calendar on the kitchen counter. Otherwise, I’d have had to whip out a dictionary to get through that sentence. I started to ask Bill, if Karin was so hung up on Eric, why hadn’t I met her before? But I skipped that in favor of telling him, “I don’t go around disparaging Eric. I love Eric. It’s not my fault he’s upset with me. Or