Club Dead

younger than Mr. O’Malley, and she was the most groomed person I’d ever seen. I was betting she brushed her eyebrows a hundred strokes a night.
    He shook his head. I had no clear picture of what he was thinking. “What about me, you read me?”
    Aha. “Shape-shifters are not so easy,” I said. “I can’t pick out a clear line of thought, more a general mood, intentions, sort of. I guess if you thought directly at me, I’d get it. You want to try? Think something at me.”
    The dishes I use at the apartment have a border of yellow roses .
    “I wouldn’t call them roses,” I said doubtfully. “More like zinnias, if you ask me.”
    I could feel his withdrawal, his wariness. I sighed. Same old, same old. It sort of hurt, since I liked him. “But just to pick your own thoughts out of your head, that’s a murky area,” I said. “I can’t consistently do that, with Weres and shifters.” (A few Supes were fairly easy to read, but I saw no need to bring that up at this point in time.)
    “Thank God.”
    “Oh?” I said archly, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “What are you afraid I’ll read?”
    Alcide actually grinned at me before he turned off the dome light and we pulled out of our parking space. “Never mind,” he said, almost absently. “Never mind. So what you’re going to be doing tonight is reading minds, to try to pick up clues about your vampire’s whereabouts?”
    “That’s right. I can’t read vampires; they don’t seem to put out any brainwaves. That’s just how I put it. I don’t know how I do this, or if there’s a scientific way to phrase it.” I wasn’t exactly lying: Undead minds really were unreadable—except for a little split second’s glimpse every now and then (which hardly counted, and no one could know about). If vampires thought I could read their minds, not even Bill could save me. If he would.
    Every time I forgot for a second that our relationship had radically changed, it hurt all over again to be reminded.
    “So what’s your plan?”
    “I’m aiming for humans dating or serving local vampires. Humans were the actual abductors. He was snatched in daytime. At least, that’s what they told Eric.”
    “I should have asked you about this earlier,” he said, mostly to himself. “Just in case I hear something the regular way—through my ears—maybe you should tell me the circumstances.”
    As we drove by what Alcide said was the old train station, I gave him a quick summary. I caught a glimpse of a street sign reading “Amite” as we pulled up to an awning that stretched over a deserted length of sidewalk in the outskirts of downtown Jackson. The area directly under the awning was lit with a brilliant and cold light. Somehow that length of sidewalk seemed creepily ominous, especially since the rest of the street was dark. Uneasiness crawled down my back. I felt a deep reluctance to stop at that bit of sidewalk.
    It was a stupid feeling, I told myself. It was just a stretch of cement. No beasts were in sight. After the businesses closed at five, downtown Jackson was not exactly teeming, even under ordinary circumstances. I was willing to bet that most of the sidewalks in the whole state of Mississippi were bare on this cold December night.
    But there was something ominous in the air, a watch-fulness laced with a charge of malice. The eyes observing us were invisible; but they were observing us, nonetheless. When Alcide climbed out of the truck and came around to help me down, I noticed that he left the keys in the ignition. I swung my legs outward and put my hands on his shoulders, my long silk stole wound firmly around me and trailing behind, fringe trembling in a gust of chilled air. I pushed off as he lifted, and then I was on the sidewalk.
    The truck drove away.
    I looked at Alcide sideways, to see if this was startling to him, but he looked quite matter-of-fact. “Vehicles parked in front would attract attention from the general public,” he told me, his voice hushed in the vast silence of that coldly lit bit of pavement.
    “They can come in? Regular people?” I asked, nodding toward the single metal door. It looked as uninviting as a door can look. There was no name anywhere on it, or on the building, for that matter. No Christmas decorations, either. (Of course, vampires don’t observe holidays, except for Halloween. It’s the ancient festival of Samhain dressed up in trappings that the vamps find delightful. So Halloween’s a great