Dead and Gone

one-on-one, the bar sounds had seemed muted, far-away. Now they came back with a rush.
    “The police and the werepanthers, they’ll track whoever did it,” he said. “I’m more concerned about these FBI agents. What is their goal? Do they want to take you away? Can they do that in this country?”
    “They wanted to identify Barry. Then they wanted to find out what Barry and I could do, and how we could do it. Maybe they were supposed to ask if we’d work for them, and Crystal’s death interrupted our conversation before they could say anything.”
    “And you don’t want to work for them.” Eric’s bright blue eyes were intent on my face. “You don’t want to leave.”
    I pulled my hand out from under his. I watched my hands clasp each other, twist. “I don’t want people to die because I wouldn’t help them,” I said. I felt my eyes brim with tears. “But I’m selfish enough that I don’t want to go wherever they send me, trying to find dying people. I couldn’t stand the wear and tear of seeing disaster every day. I don’t want to leave home. I’ve been trying to imagine what it would be like, what they might have me do. And it scares me to death.”
    “You want to own your own life,” Eric said.
    “As much as anyone can.”
    “Just when I think you’re very simple, you say something complex,” Eric said.
    “Are you complaining?” I tried to smile, failed.
    “No.”
    A heavy girl with a big jaw came up and thrust an autograph book in front of Eric. “Could you please sign this?” she said. Eric gave her a blinding smile and scribbled on the blank page. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly, and went back to her table. Her friends, all women just old enough to be in the bar, were exclaiming at her courage, and she leaned forward, telling them all about her encounter with the vampire. As she finished, one of the human waitresses drifted up to their table and took another order for drinks. The staff here was well-trained.
    “What was she thinking?” Eric asked me.
    “Oh, she was very nervous and she thought you were lovely, but . . .” I struggled to put it into words. “Not handsome in a way that was very real to her, because she would never think she would actually get to have you. She’s very . . . she doesn’t think much of herself.”
    I had one of those flashes of fantasy. Eric would walk over to her, bow to her, give her a reverent kiss on the cheek, ignore her prettier friends. This gesture would make every man in the bar wonder what the vampire saw in her that they couldn’t see. Suddenly the plain girl would be overwhelmed with attention from the men who’d witnessed the interchange. Her friends would give her respect because Eric had. Her life would change .
    But none of that happened, of course. Eric forgot about the girl as soon as I’d finished speaking. I didn’t think it would work out like my fantasy, even if he did approach her. I felt a flash of disappointment that fairy tales didn’t come true. I wondered if my fairy great-grandfather had ever heard one of what we thought of as a fairy tale. Did fairy parents tell fairy children human tales? I was willing to bet they didn’t.
    I felt a moment of disconnect, as if I were standing back from my own life and viewing it from afar. The vampires owed me money and favors for my services to them. The Weres had declared me a friend of the pack for my help during the just-completed war. I was pledged to Eric, which seemed to mean I was engaged or even married. My brother was a werepanther. My great-grandfather was a fairy. It took me a moment to pull myself back into my own skin. My life was too weird. I had that out-of-control feeling again, as if I were spinning too fast to stop.
    “Don’t talk to the FBI people alone,” Eric was saying. “Call me if it’s at night. Call Bobby Burnham if they come in the day.”
    “But he hates me!” I said, dragged back into reality and thus not too cautious. “Why would I call him?”
    “What?”
    “Bobby hates me,” I said. “He’d love it if the feds carted me off to some underground bunker in Nevada for the rest of my life.”
    Eric’s face looked frozen. “He said this?”
    “He didn’t have to. I can tell when someone thinks I’m slime.”
    “I’ll have a talk with Bobby.”
    “Eric, it’s not against the law for someone to dislike me,” I said, remembering how dangerous it could be to complain to a vampire.
    He laughed. “Maybe I’ll make it