is what Eric dropped off at my doorstep.”

I could hardly understand what he was saying.

“So?” I said furiously. I looked right into the girl’s eyes. They were big and dark and excited. I kept my own lids wide apart, knowing if I blinked the tears would flow.

“As a reward,” Bill said. I couldn’t understand how he felt about this.

“Free beverage?” I said, and couldn’t believe how venomous my voice sounded.

Jason put his hand on my shoulder. “Steady, girl,” he said, his voice as low and mean as mine. “He ain’t worth it.”

I didn’t know what Bill wasn’t worth, but I was about to find out. It was almost exhilarating to have no idea what I was about to do, after a lifetime of control.

Bill was regarding me with sharp attention. Under the flourescents over the bar, he looked remarkably white. He hadn’t fed from her. And his fangs were retracted.

“Come outside and talk,” he said.

“With her?” I was almost growling.

“No,” he said. “With me. I have to send her back.”

The distaste in his voice influenced me, and I followed Bill outside, keeping my head up and not meeting any eyes. He kept ahold of the girl’s arm, and she was practically walking on her toes to keep up. I didn’t know Jason was coming with us until I turned to see him behind me as we passed into the parking lot. Outside, people were coming and going, but it was marginally better than the crowded bar.

“Hi,” the girl said chattily. “My name’s Desiree. I think I’ve met you before, Jason.”

“What are you doing here, Desiree?” Jason asked, his voice quiet. You could almost believe he was calm.

“Eric sent me over here to Bon Temps as a reward for Bill,” she said coyly, looking at Bill from the corners of her eyes. “But he seems less than thrilled. I don’t know why. I’m practically a special vintage.”

“Eric?” Jason asked me.

“A vampire from Shreveport. Bar owner. Head honcho.”

“He left her on my doorstep,” Bill told me. “I didn’t ask for her.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Send her back,” he said impatiently. “You and I have to talk.”

I gulped. I felt my fingers uncurl.

“She needs a ride back to Monroe?” Jason asked.

Bill looked surprised. “Yes. Are you offering? I need to talk to your sister.”

“Sure,” Jason said, all geniality. I was instantly suspicious.

“I can’t believe you’re refusing me,” Desiree said, looking up at Bill and pouting. “No one has ever turned me down before.”

“Of course I am grateful, and I’m sure you are, as you put it, a special vintage,” Bill said politely. “But I have my own wine cellar.”

Little Desiree stared at him blankly for a second before comprehension slowly lit her brown eyes. “This woman yours?” she asked, jerking her head at me.

“She is.”

Jason shifted nervously at Bill’s flat statement.

Desiree gave me a good looking over. “She’s got funny eyes,” she finally pronounced.

“She’s my sister,” Jason said.

“Oh. I’m sorry. You’re much more . . . normal.” Desiree gave Jason the up-and-down, and seemed more pleased with what she saw. “Hey, what’s your last name?”

Jason took her hand and began leading her toward his pickup. “Stackhouse,” he was saying, giving her the full eye treatment, as they walked away. “Maybe on the way home, you can tell me a little about what you do . . .”

I turned back to Bill, wondering what Jason’s motive was for this generous act, and met Bill’s gaze. It was like walking into a brick wall.

“So, you want to talk?” I asked harshly.

“Not here. Come home with me.”

I scuffed the gravel with my shoe. “Not your house.”

“Then yours.”

“No.”

He raised his arched brows. “Where then?”

Good question.

“My folks’ pond.” Since Jason was going to be giving Miss Dark and Tiny a ride home, he wouldn’t be there.

“I’ll follow you,” he said briefly, and we parted to go to our respective cars.

The property where I’d spent my first few years was to the west of Bon Temps. I turned down the familiar gravel driveway and parked at the house, a modest ranch that Jason kept up pretty well. Bill emerged from his car as I slid from mine, and I motioned him to follow me. We went around the house and down the slope, following a path set with big paving stones. In a minute we were at the pond, man-made, that my dad had put in our backyard and stocked, anticipating fishing with his son in that water for years.

There was a kind of patio overlooking the water,