The sound of the phone being put back in the cradle. The click that heralded the next message, which came in two minutes after the first.
"Thinking of that," Pam said, as if she'd never hung up, "there is the idea that your unusual ability can help us in our fight, and we want to explore that. Isn't that the right buzzword now? Explore? So get here as close to first dark as possible." She hung up again.
Click. "'Here' is 714 Parchman Avenue," Pam said. Hung up.
"How can I do that, with Jason still missing?" I asked, when it became clear Pam hadn't called again.
"You're going to sleep now," Sam said. "Come on." He pulled me to my feet, led me to my room. "You're going to take off your boots and jeans, crawl back in the bed, and take a long nap. When you get up, you'll feel better. You leave Pam's number so I can reach you. Tell the cops to call the bar if they learn anything, and I'll phone you if I hear from Bud Dearborn."
"So you think I should do this?" I was bewildered.
"No, I'd give anything if you wouldn't. But I think you have to. It's not my fight; I wasn't invited." Sam gave me a kiss on the forehead and left to go back to Merlotte's.
His attitude was kind of interesting, after all the vampire insistence (both Bill's and Eric's) that I was a possession to be guarded. I felt pretty empowered and gung-ho for about thirty seconds, until I remembered my New Year's resolution: no getting beaten up. If I went to Shreveport with Eric, then I was sure to see things I didn't want to see, learn things I didn't want to know, and get my ass whipped, too.
On the other hand, my brother Jason had made a deal with the vampires, and I had to uphold it. Sometimes I felt that my whole life had been spent stuck between a rock and a hard place. But then, lots of people had complicated lives.
I thought of Eric, a powerful vampire whose mind had been stripped clean of his identity. I thought of the carnage I'd seen in the bridal shop, the white lace and brocade speckled with dried blood and matter. I thought of poor Maria-Star, in the hospital in Shreveport. These witches were bad, and bad should be stopped; bad should be overcome. That's the American model.
It seemed kind of strange to think that I was on the side of vampires and werewolves, and that was the good side. That made me laugh a little, all to myself. Oh, yes, we good guys would save the day.
11
Amazingly, I did sleep. I woke with Eric on the bed beside me. He was smelling me.
"Sookie, what is this?" he asked in a very quiet voice. He knew, of course, when I woke. "You smell of the woods, and you smell of shifter. And something even wilder."
I supposed the shifter he smelled was Sam. "And Were," I prompted, not wanting him to miss out on anything.
"No, not Were," he said.
I was puzzled. Calvin had lifted me over the brambles, and his scent should still have been on me.
"More than one kind of shifter," Eric said in the near-dark of my room. "What have you been doing, my lover?"
He didn't exactly sound angry, but he didn't sound happy, either. Vampires. They wrote the book on possessive.
"I was in the search party for my brother, in the woods behind his home," I said.
Eric was still for a minute. Then he wrapped his arms around me and hauled me up against him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know you are worried."
"Let me ask you something," I said, willing to test a theory of mine.
"Of course."
"Look inside yourself, Eric. Are you really, really sorry? Worried about Jason?" Because the real Eric, in his right mind, would not have cared one little bit.
"Of course," he protested. Then, after a long moment—I wished I could see his face—he said, "Not really." He sounded surprised. "I know I should be. I should be concerned about your brother, because I love having sex with you, and I should want you to think well of me so you'll want sex, too."
You just had to like the honesty. This was the closest to the real Eric I'd seen in days.
"But you'll listen, right? If I need to talk? For the same reason?"
"Of course, my lover."
"Because you want to have sex with me."
"That, of course. But also because I find I really do . . ." He paused, as if he were about to say something outrageous. "I find I have feelings for you."
"Oh," I said into his chest, sounding as astonished as Eric had. His chest was bare, as I suspected the rest of him was. I felt the light sprinkling of curly blond hair against my cheek.
"Eric," I said, after a long pause, "I almost hate to say this, but I have feelings for you, too." There was a lot I needed to tell Eric, and we should be in the car on our way to Shreveport already. But I was taking this moment to savor this little bit of happiness.
"Not love, exactly," he said. His fingers were busy trying to find out how best to get my clothes off.
"No, but something close." I helped him. "We don't have much time, Eric," I said, reaching down, touching him, making him gasp. "Let's make it good."
"Kiss me," he said, and he wasn't talking about his mouth. "Turn this way," he whispered. "I want to kiss you, too."
It didn't take long, after all, for us to be holding each other, sated and happy.
"What's happened?" he asked. "I can tell something is frightening you."
"We have to go to Shreveport now," I said. "We're already past the time Pam said on the phone. Tonight's the night we face off against Hallow and her witches."
"Then you must stay here," he said immediately.
"No," I said gently, putting my hand on his cheek. "No, baby, I have to go with you." I didn't tell him Pam thought using me in the battle would be a good idea. I didn't tell him he was going to be used as a fighting machine. I didn't tell him I was sure someone was going to die tonight; maybe quite a few someones, human and Were and vampire. It was probably the last time I would use an endearment when I addressed Eric. It was perhaps the last time Eric would wake up in my house. One of us might not survive this night, and if we did, there was no way to know how we'd be changed.
The drive to Shreveport was silent. We'd washed up and dressed without talking much, either. At least seven times, I thought of heading back to Bon Temps, with or without Eric.
But I didn't.
Eric's skills did not include map reading, so I had to pull over to check my Shreveport map to plot our course to 714 Parchman, something I hadn't foreseen before we got to the city. (I'd somehow expected Eric to remember the directions, but of course, he didn't.)
"Your word of the day was 'annihilate,'" he told me cheerfully.
"Oh. Thanks for checking." I probably didn't sound very thankful. "You're sounding pretty excited about all this."
"Sookie, there's nothing like a good fight," he said defensively.
"That depends on who wins, I would think."
That kept him quiet for a few minutes, which was fine. I was having trouble negotiating the strange streets in the darkness, with so much on my mind. But we finally got to the right street, and the right house on that street. I had always pictured Pam and Chow living in a mansion, but the vampires had a large ranch-style house in an upper-middle-class suburb. It was a trimmed-lawn, bike-riding, lawn-sprinkling street, from what I could tell.