Southern Vampire

Chapter 2

We cleaned up as quietly and unobtrusively as we could, since a few guests still lingered.

“Speaking of dates… what happened with Quinn?” he asked. I didn’t stop working. “Ever since you got back from Rhodes, you’ve barely stopped moving for a second.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you. He was badly hurt in the explosion.” Quinn worked for E Company, running special events for the supernatural community — vampire weddings, werewolf coming-of-age ceremonies, pack leader elections, things like that. That was why he’d been inside the pyramid at Giza when the Fellowship did their dirty work.

The Fellowship of the Sun was anti-vampire, but they didn’t know vampires were only the visible, public face of the supernatural world. No one did — or at least, very few people did, like me. Though more and more were starting to figure it out. I was certain the Fellowship fanatics would hate shifters like Sam just as much as they hated vampires… if they knew they existed. That day was probably coming soon.

“Yeah, but I thought…”

“I know. I thought Quinn and I were… together,” I said, my voice flat and heavy, the way it always got when I thought of my missing weretiger. “I figured I’d hear something. But nothing. Not a word.”

“You still have his sister’s car, right?” Fran Quinn had lent it to me after the Rhodes disaster, when I needed a way home.

“Gone. It disappeared while Amelia and I were at work. I left a message on Quinn’s voicemail saying it had been taken, but he never called back.”

“Sookie, I’m sorry,” Sam said. He probably realized it was a bad time to bring it up, but what else could he say?

“Yeah, me too,” I said, trying to sound less defeated. It took effort not to go down that mental road again. I knew Quinn didn’t blame me for his injuries. Before I left Rhodes, I’d visited him in the hospital; his sister Fran had been taking care of him. Even Fran hadn’t hated me then, no blame, no anger — so why the silence?

It was like the earth had swallowed him whole. I gave up and forced myself to think about something else. Keeping busy was good medicine when I was worried. We loaded the bar supplies into Sam’s truck, parked a block away. He carried all the heavy stuff. Sam wasn’t big, but he was strong — pretty much all shifters were.

By half past ten, we were almost finished. From the cheers out front of the mansion, I could tell the brides had come downstairs in their honeymoon outfits, tossed the bouquets, and left. Portia and Glen were headed to San Francisco; Halleigh and Andy to some resort in Jamaica. There was nothing more I could do to help.

Sam told me I could leave. “I can get Dawson Bang to help unload at the bar,” he said. Dawson was covering Sam’s shift that night, and I agreed it was a good plan.

Then we split the tips. I made three hundred dollars. Not a bad night. I stuffed the cash in my pocket — a bulky lump, mostly small bills. I was glad we were in Bon Temps, not a big city, or I’d have worried about getting mugged before I reached my car.

“Good night, Sam,” I said, digging for my keys. I hadn’t bothered bringing my purse. As I walked down the backyard slope toward the sidewalk, I touched my hair self-consciously. I hadn’t let the woman in pink pile it on top of my head, so she’d styled it big and curly, Farrah Fawcett-style. I felt silly.

A lot of cars were passing by, most of them wedding guests leaving. There was also the usual Saturday-night traffic. A long line of vehicles was parked along the curb, so everything moved slowly. I’d parked illegally, but that was no big deal in our small town.

I bent to unlock my door when I heard a voice behind me. I clenched my keys in my fist, spun around sharply, and kicked hard. The keys dug into my palm. The man behind me stumbled back onto the grassy slope and sat down hard.

“I mean you no harm,” Jonathan said.

It’s hard to look nonthreatening and dignified when you’re on the ground with blood at the corner of your mouth. But this Thai vampire managed it.

“You scared me,” I said lightly.

“I can see that,” he said, standing up easily. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his lip.

I wasn’t about to apologize. Anyone sneaking up on me alone after dark deserved to get hit. Then again, vampires naturally moved silently. “I’m sorry. I assumed the worst,” I conceded. “I should have recognized you.”

“No, it is too late for that,” Jonathan said. “A woman should defend herself.”

“Thank you for understanding,” I said carefully. I watched him from the corner of my eye, trying not to show everything I was thinking — a habit I’d picked up after listening to so many shocking thoughts. I looked Jonathan straight in the face. “Why… why were you approaching me?”

“I am passing through Louisiana, and attended the wedding as a guest of Hamilton Tharp,” he said. “I live in Area Five, with permission from Eric Northman.”

I had no idea who Hamilton Tharp was — probably a friend of the Bellefleurs. But I knew Eric Northman very well. In fact, I once known every inch of him. Eric was the Sheriff of Area Five, a large territory covering northern Louisiana. We’d been bound together in complicated ways, during days I preferred to forget.

“Actually, I meant — why did you come up to me just now?” I waited, keys still tight in my hand.

“I was curious,” Jonathan said. He folded his arms across his chest. I liked him less and less.

“Why?”

“I heard things at Fangtasia about the blonde woman Eric speaks so highly of. Eric is very discerning; it seemed impossible any human woman would catch his interest.”

“And how did you know I’d be here tonight, at the wedding?”

He blinked. He hadn’t expected the rapid-fire questions. He probably thought he could calm me down, maybe even glamour me. But that never worked on me. “The young woman who works for Eric — his child, Pam — mentioned it.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire, I thought. I hadn’t spoken to Pam in ages, and our last conversation had hardly been girl talk about social events. She’d been recovering since she was injured at Rhodes. Her recovery, Eric’s recovery, the Queen’s recovery — that had been the only subject.

“Of course,” I said. “Good night. I’m leaving.” I opened my door, slid in carefully, my eyes still on Jonathan, ready to peel out. He stood motionless like a statue, and nodded slightly as I drove away. At the next red light, I finally fastened my seatbelt. I didn’t want to be restrained while he was near. I locked the doors and glanced around — no vampires in sight. Something about this felt off. Honestly, I should call Eric and tell him.

You know the strangest part? That gaunt, pale-haired man had been standing right in Jonathan’s shadow. Our eyes had even met. His beautiful face was unreadable. But I knew he hadn’t wanted me to notice him. I couldn’t read his mind — I never could with strangers like him — but I just knew.

And the weirdest thing of all? Jonathan hadn’t known he was there. All vampires had sharp senses. For Jonathan not to pick up on him was highly unusual.

I replayed the strange scene in my head as I turned onto Hummingbird Road and up the driveway through the woods to my house. The place was over a hundred and sixty years old, though little of the original structure remained. It had been expanded, remodeled, and re-roofed so many times over the decades. Once a two-room farmhouse, it was much larger now, but still plain and modest.

Tonight it looked peaceful under the porch light my roommate Amelia Broadway had left on. Amelia’s car was parked in the back, so I pulled in beside it. I kept a key outside just in case she’d already gone upstairs. She hadn’t locked the screen door, so I locked it behind me. I unlocked the back door, stepped in, and locked it again. Amelia and I took security very seriously, especially at night.

I was a little surprised to find her sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me. We’d been living together for a few weeks, and by this hour she was usually upstairs. She had her own TV, phone, and laptop up there, plus a library card and plenty of books. She also had witchcraft work, which I never poked into. Amelia was a witch.

“How was the wedding?” she asked, stirring her tea like she was trying to make a whirlpool.

“They got married. Glen’s vampire guests behaved themselves. Miss Caroline was sweet to everyone all night. But I had to fill in as a bridesmaid.”

“Oh, wow — tell me everything.”

I gave her the quick version, and we laughed a few times. I almost told her about the beautiful, pale man, but I didn’t.

What could I say? “He stared at me”? I did tell her about Jonathan from Nevada, though.

“What do you think he really wants?” Amelia asked.

“No idea.” I shrugged. “You never can tell. Especially when you don’t even know who he claims to be a guest of.”

“I’d call Eric — if not tonight, then tomorrow night.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t buy a copy of that database Bill’s putting together. I saw an ad for it online yesterday, on the vampire websites.” It felt like a sudden change of subject. Bill’s database held photos and information on vampires all over the world, many he’d only heard of. But only a vampire could buy a copy; they had ways to test.

“Since Bill’s charging five hundred dollars a copy, and pretending to be a vampire is way too risky… yeah, no,” I said.

Amelia waved a hand. “It’d be worth it.”

Amelia was much more experienced than me… in some ways, anyway. She’d grown up in New Orleans and lived there most of her life. She was staying with me because she’d made a huge mistake. After a botched spell caused by inexperience, she’d had to leave town. Luckily, she’d run right before Katrina hit. Her tenant had been living in the top floor of her house ever since the hurricane. Amelia’s own place was on the ground floor, so it had some damage. She wasn’t charging him rent because he oversaw the repairs.

Here was the real reason Amelia wouldn’t be going back to New Orleans anytime soon: Bob padded softly into the kitchen and said hello, rubbing hard against my leg.

“Hey, my sweet bunny,” I said, picking up the long-haired black-and-white cat. “How’s my darling? I love him!”

“I’m gonna puke,” Amelia said. But I knew she cooed at Bob just the same when I wasn’t around.

“Any progress?” I asked, lifting my head from his fur. He’d had a bath that afternoon — I could tell from his fluffy coat.

“No,” she said, her voice flat. “I cast for an hour today, and all I managed was a lizard tail. I’d give anything to turn him back.”

Bob was actually a person — a man. Nerdy, black hair, glasses. Amelia insisted he had hidden charms that didn’t show on the street. She really shouldn’t have been practicing shape-shifting spells at that particular moment — turning Bob into a cat while they were having s*x. It must have been adventurous, to say the least. I never dared ask exactly what she’d been going for. Definitely something exotic.

“I need to tell you something,” Amelia said suddenly, and I tensed. The real reason she’d stayed up late was about to come out. Amelia was a mental chatterbox, so I could easily pluck the thought from her head. But I let her speak anyway; people hated it when you cut them off when they’re trying to talk.

“My dad’s coming from Shreveport tomorrow. He wants to visit me in Bon Temps,” she rushed out. “He’s coming with his driver, Marley. He wants to have dinner here.”

Tomorrow was Sunday. The bar only opened in the afternoon, and I wasn’t on the schedule. I glanced at the calendar. “I can go out,” I said. “Visit JB and Tara. No big deal.”

“Please stay,” she said, her face pleading. She didn’t say why, but I could read it easily enough. Amelia had a complicated relationship with her father. In fact, she used her mother’s last name, Broadway, partly because her father was so well-known. Copley Carmichael had major political pull and was extremely wealthy — though I had no idea how Katrina had affected his fortune. He’d been a builder with large lumberyards; the storm might have ruined his business. On the other hand, the area needed wood and rebuilding.

“What time’s he coming?”

“Five.”

“Is the driver eating with us at the table?” I’d never hosted staff before. We only had one table in the kitchen. I certainly wasn’t about to make the man sit on the back steps.

“Oh, God,” she said. She hadn’t thought about that at all. “What are we going to do about Marley?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.” Maybe my voice sounded too patient.

“Look,” Amelia said. “You don’t know my dad. You don’t understand what he’s like.”

I could tell from her thoughts that her feelings toward him were tangled — a messy mix of love, fear, and anxiety. I didn’t know many rich people, let alone ones with full-time drivers.

This was going to be interesting.

I said goodnight to Amelia and headed to bed. Even with everything on my mind, my body was exhausted, and I fell asleep quickly.

Sunday turned out bright and sunny again. I thought about the newlyweds, safely starting their new lives, and about old Miss Caroline, enjoying her cousins’ company — the youngest of whom was in their sixties — as a caretaker and companion. When Portia and Glen returned, the cousins would go back to their own humbler homes, probably a little relieved. Halleigh and Andy would move into their little house.

I still felt uneasy about Jonathan and that beautiful, gaunt man.

I reminded myself to call Eric when he woke up the next night.

I turned over Bill’s unexpected words in my head.

And a million times, I wondered at Quinn’s silence.

But before I could spiral too far, I thought of Amelia.

I was growing to like Amelia, more and more. She was straightforward, warm, and talented. She knew all about the supernatural world, including me. She thought my weird “gift” was cool. I could talk to her about anything, and she never reacted with disgust or fear. She was impulsive and stubborn, too, but you had to take people as they were. I was really glad she was living with me.

Practically speaking, she was also a great cook, careful about keeping our things separate, and God knew she was clean. Cleaning was Amelia’s go-to. She cleaned when she was bored, nervous, or guilty. I wasn’t lazy about housework, but Amelia was world-class. The day she’d almost wrecked her car, she’d dusted every piece of furniture and decor in my living room — everything. When her tenant called to say her roof needed replacing, she’d gone to E-Z Rent and brought home a machine to buff the hardwood floors upstairs and down.

When I got up at nine, Amelia was already deep-cleaning in preparation for her father’s visit. By quarter to eleven, when I was leaving for church, she was busy scrubbing the downstairs bathroom — which I admitted was outdated. It had black-and-white octagonal tile and a huge claw-foot tub, but thanks to my brother Jason, there was a relatively modern toilet. That bathroom was Amelia’s, since there wasn’t one upstairs. I had a small, attached bathroom next to my bedroom, added in the fifties. In my house, you could see several decades’ worth of renovation trends all at once.

“Do you really think it’s that dirty?” I asked, standing in the doorway. I was talking to the back of her head. She looked up and pushed hair off her forehead with a gloved hand.

“No, it’s not *that* dirty. But I want it to be nice.”

“My house is old, Amelia. I don’t think it’s ever going to be ‘nice’.” I wasn’t the least bit apologetic about the age, the look, or the furniture. I’d done the best I could, and I liked it.

“It’s a lovely old house, Sookie,” Amelia said. “But I have to keep busy.”

“Fine.” I said. “I’m going to church. I’ll be back by twelve-thirty.”

“Can you stop by the store after church? There’s a list on the counter.”

I agreed, glad to have an errand to keep me out longer.

The morning felt more like March than October — Southern March. I got out of the car at the Methodist church and lifted my face to the soft breeze. There was a hint of winter in the air. The church windows were open. As we sang, our harmonies drifted over the grass and trees. But during the sermon, I watched leaves blowing down.

Honestly, I didn’t listen the whole time. Sometimes the hour in church was just thinking time, a chance to wonder where my life was going. But at least those thoughts were in a peaceful space. When you watch leaves fall, that peace narrows.

Today I listened… mostly.

I smiled at Reverend Collins as I walked out. He always looked a little confused when he saw me.

I said hello to Maxine Fortenberry and her husband Ed before I reached the parking lot. Maxine was heavy and tough; Ed was shy and quiet, almost invisible. Their son Hoyt was Jason’s best friend, and he stood behind his mother. He wore a sharp suit, his hair neatly trimmed. Interesting signs.

“Sugar, give me a hug!” Maxine said, and I did. Maxine was a friend of my grandmother’s, even though she wasn’t much older than my dad. I smiled at Ed and waved at Hoyt.

“You look handsome,” I told him, and he smiled. I’d never seen Hoyt smile like that, and I glanced at Maxine, who was grinning ear to ear.

“Hoyt’s been seeing Holly from work,” Maxine said. “She has a kid, so that’s something to think about, but Hoyt loves children.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said. I’d been out of the gossip loop lately. “That’s wonderful, Hoyt. Holly’s a great girl.”

I wasn’t sure I’d have said that if I’d had time to think, so maybe it was lucky I didn’t. Holly had several big things going for her — devotion to her son Cody, loyalty to her friends, a hardworking employee. She’d been divorced for years, so Hoyt wasn’t a rebound. I wondered if Holly had told Hoyt she was a witch. No, she hadn’t — otherwise Maxine wouldn’t be smiling so wide.

“We’re meeting her for lunch at Sizzler,” she said, referring to the steakhouse by the interstate. “Holly doesn’t come to church much, but we’re gonna talk her into coming with Cody sometime. We better go if we wanna be on time.”

“Have fun,” I said, patting his arm as he stepped forward. He gave me a happy look.

Everyone was getting married or dating. I was happy for them. Happy, happy, happy. I forced a smile and headed to the grocery store. I pulled Amelia’s list out of my purse. It was long, but I figured there’d be extras. I called her on my phone, and she’d already thought of three more things, so I had plenty to hunt for.

I struggled up the back steps with heavy grocery bags. Amelia rushed out to get the rest. “Where have you been?” she asked, like she’d been standing by the door tapping her toes.

I checked my watch. “I went to church and then the store,” I said defensively.

The rest of the afternoon passed normally, even with Amelia gearing up for the biggest dinner date of her life.

I could cook okay, but Amelia only let me help with prep while she made dinner. I peeled onions and potatoes. Oh, and she made me wash the dishes we’d be using. I always wondered if she’d wave a wand like the fairy godmother in Sleeping Beauty, but she just grunted when I handed them over.

The house was spotless. Even though I tried not to care, I noticed Amelia had vaguely vacuumed my bedroom floor too. We were supposed to stay out of each other’s private spaces.

“I’m sorry I went into your room,” Amelia said suddenly, and I jumped — me, the telepath. Amelia had beaten me at my own game. “I just had that crazy urge. I was vacuuming the hallway, and I thought I should do yours too. Before I could overthink it, I was done. I put your slippers under the bed.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to sound normal.

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

I nodded and went back to drying and putting away dishes. The menu, as Amelia had decided, included potato salad, green salad, lasagna, hot garlic bread, and steamed fresh vegetables. I knew nothing about steaming veggies, but I prepped all the ingredients — squash, bell peppers, mushrooms, broccoli. Later in the afternoon, I was trusted to toss the salad. Then I covered the table with a cloth, set out a small bouquet of flowers, and arranged the silverware. Four places.

I suggested Mr. Marley sit with me in the living room and eat off the TV tray, but Amelia looked horrified, like I’d offered to wash his feet.

“No. You’re staying with me,” she said.

“You need to talk to your dad,” I said. “At some point, I have to get out of the room.”

She took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, I’m an adult,” she muttered.

“Scared kitten,” I said.

“You haven’t met him.”

At a quarter past four, Amelia rushed upstairs to get ready. I was sitting in the living room reading a library book when I heard a car crunch up the gravel driveway. I glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It was four forty-eight. I bounded up the stairs and looked out the window. The afternoon was winding down, but since we hadn’t switched to daylight saving time yet, I could easily see a Lincoln parked out front. A man with neatly trimmed dark hair and a business suit got out of the driver’s seat. That must be Marley. I was a little disappointed he wasn’t wearing a chauffeur’s cap. He opened the back door, and Copley Carmichael stepped out.

Amelia’s father wasn’t tall. He had thick white hair, like a nice rug, dense and smooth, styled neatly. His skin was tanned, his eyebrows still dark. No glasses. No lips. Well, he had lips, but they were so thin his mouth looked like a trap.

Mr. Carmichael looked around the yard like he was doing a tax assessment.

As I watched the man in my yard finish his inspection, I heard Amelia hurrying down the stairs behind me. Driver Marley was looking at the house, and he saw my face through the window.

“Marley’s new,” Amelia said. “He’s only been with my dad two years.”

“Has your dad always had a driver?”

“Yeah. Marley doubles as a bodyguard,” Amelia said casually, like everyone’s father had security.

They were now walking up the gravel path, not even glancing at the neatly trimmed holly bushes. Up the wooden steps. Across the front porch. Knocking.

I thought of all the terrifying creatures that had ever stood at my door: werewolves, shifters, vampires, even a demon or two. Why was I nervous about this man? I straightened my spine, calmed my anxious thoughts, and walked to the front door, smiling before I opened it.

“Come in,” I said. Marley held the screen door for Mr. Carmichael, who stepped inside, hugged his daughter, and scanned the living room. He was a mental chatterbox, just like his daughter.

*My beautiful Amelia is living in such a shabby, run-down place… with this… are she and this girl involved?… The girl is certainly nothing special… no police record, but she dated a vampire, and has a rough brother…*

Of course a rich, powerful man like Copley Carmichael would have his daughter’s roommate investigated. That was a procedure I’d never experienced, like so many rich-people things.

I took a breath. “I’m Sookie Stackhouse,” I said politely. “You must be Mr. Carmichael. And this is…?” After shaking Mr. Carmichael’s hand, I held mine out to Marley.

For a second, I thought I’d caught the father off guard. But he recovered quickly.

The driver shook my hand politely, like he had no intention of crushing my bones, then nodded to Amelia. “Miss Amelia,” he said. Amelia looked annoyed, like she wanted to tell him not to call her that, but she thought better of it. All these thoughts colliding… it was enough to unnerve me.

Tyrese Marley was a light-skinned Black man. His skin was not dark at all; it was the color of aged ivory. His eyes were hazel. Even though his hair was black, it curled and glinted with red. Marley was the kind of man you couldn’t help but look at twice.

“I’ll take the car into town for gas,” he told his employer. “While you’re with Miss Amelia. When would you like me back?”

Mr. Carmichael checked his watch. “In a few hours.”

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. I wanted everyone to feel comfortable.

“I have errands to run,” Tyrese Marley said, no inflection in his voice. “Thank you for the invitation. I’ll see you later.” He left.

Well, my attempt at democracy was over.

Tyrese had no idea how badly I wanted to be out in town instead of stuck here. I pulled myself together and got back to social duties. “Would you like some wine, Mr. Carmichael? Or something else to drink? Amelia?”

“Call me Cope,” he said, smiling. It was like a shark grinning to warm my heart. “Certainly, whatever you’re having. Dear?”

“I’ll have white,” she said. As I headed to the kitchen, I heard her telling her father to sit down.

I opened a red wine and set out snacks: crackers, warm brie spread with apricot jam and a dash of hot pepper, all on a tray. We had some cute little knives that matched it, and Amelia had set out cocktail napkins.

Cope had a good appetite and seemed to enjoy the brie. He took a small sip of the Arkansas-labeled red wine and nodded politely. At least he didn’t spit it out. I rarely drank wine and knew nothing about it. In fact, I wasn’t an expert at anything. But I sipped mine and enjoyed it.

“Amelia, tell me what you’ve been doing while waiting for your house to be rebuilt,” Cope said. I thought it was a reasonable opening question.

I wanted to say, first of all, she wasn’t fooling around with me, but decided that might be too blunt. I tried not to listen to his thoughts, but I swear, with him and his daughter in the same room, it was like listening to a television.

“I do some filing for a local insurance agency. And I work part-time at Merlotte’s bar,” Amelia said. “I pour beer and sometimes run baskets of chicken wings.”

“Interesting work at a bar?” Cope didn’t sound sarcastic, I thought. Though I was sure Sam had been vetted too.

“It’s not bad,” she said, smiling. Amelia was holding back so much I read her thoughts to fill in the gaps. “I make good tips.”

Her father nodded. “And you, Miss Stackhouse?” Cope asked politely.

He knew everything about me except my current nail polish color, and I was certain he’d add that to his file if he could. “I work full-time at Merlotte’s,” I said, like he didn’t know. “I’ve been there for years.”