Dead as a Doornail

lent me. I explained.
    Sam sounded resigned. “There’s a place in the bar the vamp can sleep. All right. Room and board, and a favor. When can he come?”
    I relayed the question to Eric.
    “Right now.” Eric beckoned to a human waitress, who was wearing the low-cut long black dress all the female human employees wore. (I’ll tell you something about vampires: They don’t like to wait tables. And they’re pretty poorat it, too. You won’t catch a vamp bussing tables, either. The vamps almost always hire humans to do the grubbier work at their establishments.) Eric told her to fetch Charles from behind the bar. She bowed, fist to her opposite shoulder, and said, “Yes, Master.”
    Honestly, it just about made you sick.
    Anyway, Charles leapt over the bar theatrically, and while patrons applauded, he made his way to Eric’s booth.
    Bowing to me, he turned to Eric with an air of attentiveness that should have seemed subservient but instead seemed simply matter-of-fact.
    “This woman will tell you what to do. As long as she needs you, she is your master.” I just couldn’t decipher Charles Twining’s expression as he heard Eric’s directive. Lots of vampires simply wouldn’t agree to being at a human’s beck and call, no matter what their head honcho said.
    “No, Eric!” I was shocked. “If you make him answerable to anyone, it should be Sam.”
    “Sam sent you. I’m entrusting Charles’s direction to you.” Eric’s face closed down. I knew from experience that once Eric got that expression, there was no arguing with him.
    I couldn’t see where this was going, but I knew it wasn’t good.
    “Let me get my coat, and I’ll be ready anytime it pleases you to leave,” Charles Twining said, bowing in a courtly and gracious way that made me feel like an idiot. I made a strangled noise in acknowledgment, and though he was still in the down position, his patch-free eye rolled up to give me a wink. I smiled involuntarily and felt much better.
    Over the music system, Connie the Corpse said, “Hey, you night listeners. Continuing ten in a row for us genuine deadheads, here’s a favorite.” Connie began playing “Here Comes the Night,” and Eric said, “Will you dance?”
    I looked over at the little dance floor. It was empty.However, Eric had arranged for a bartender and bouncer for Sam as Sam had asked. I should be gracious. “Thank you,” I said politely, and slid out of the booth. Eric offered me his hand, I took it, and he put his other hand on my waist.
    Despite the difference in our heights, we managed quite well. I pretended I didn’t know everyone in the bar was looking at us, and we glided along as if we knew what we were doing. I focused on Eric’s throat so I wouldn’t be looking up into his eyes.
    When the dance was over, he said, “Holding you seems very familiar, Sookie.”
    With a tremendous effort, I kept my eyes fixed on his Adam’s apple. I had a dreadful impulse to say, “You told me you loved me and would stay with me forever.”
    “You wish,” I said briskly instead. I let go of his hand as quickly as I could and stepped away from his embrace. “By the way, have you ever run across a kind of mean-looking vampire named Mickey?”
    Eric grabbed my hand again and squeezed it. I said, “Ow!” and he eased up.
    “He was in here last week. Where have you seen Mickey?” he demanded.
    “In Merlotte’s.” I was astonished at the effect my last-minute question had had on Eric. “What’s the deal?”
    “What was he doing?”
    “Drinking Red Stuff and sitting at a table with my friend Tara. You know, you saw her? At Club Dead, in Jackson?”
    “When I saw her she was under the protection of Franklin Mott.”
    “Well, they were dating. I can’t understand why he’d let her go out with Mickey. I hoped maybe Mickey was just there as her bodyguard or something.” I retrieved my coat from the booth. “So, what’s the bottom line on this guy?” I asked.
    “Stay away from him. Don’t talk to him, don’t cross him, and don’t try to help your friend Tara. When he was here, Mickey talked mostly to Charles. Charles tells me he is a rogue. He’s capable of . . . things that are barbarous. Don’t go around Tara.”
    I opened my hands, asking Eric to explain.
    “He’ll do things the rest of us won’t,” Eric said.
    I stared up at Eric, shocked and deeply worried. “I can’t just ignore her situation. I don’t have so many friends that I can afford to let