Dead as a Doornail

out of my voice.
    “Believe me, I tried,” Tara said bitterly. She wasn’t blaming me for my question, which was a relief. “I told him I wouldn’t. I told him I wasn’t a whore, that I’d been dating him because I liked him.” Her shoulders collapsed. “But you know, Sookie, I wasn’t telling the whole truth, and he knew it. I took all the presents he gave me. They were expensive things. But they were freely given, and he didn’t tell me there were strings attached! I never asked for anything!”
    “So he was saying that because you’d accepted his gifts, you were bound to do as he said?”
    “He said—” Tara began weeping, and her sobs made everything come out in little jerks. “He said that I was acting like a mistress, and he’d paid for everything I had, and that I might as well be of more use to him. I said I wouldn’t, that I’d give him back everything, and he said he didn’t want it. He told me this vamp named Mickey had seen me out with him, that Franklin owed Mickey a big favor.”
    “But this is America,” I protested. “How can they do that?”
    “Vampires are awful,” Tara said dismally. “I don’t know how you can stand hanging out with them. I thought I was so cool, having a vamp boyfriend. Okay, he was more like a sugar daddy, I guess.” Tara sighed at the admission. “It was just so nice being, you know, treated so well. I’m not used to that. I really thought he liked me, too. I wasn’t just being greedy.”
    “Did he take blood from you?” I asked.
    “Don’t they always?” she asked, surprised. “During sex?”
    “As far as I know,” I said. “Yeah. But you know, after he had your blood, he could tell how you felt about him.”
    “He could?”
    “After they’ve had your blood, they’re tuned in to your feelings.” I was quite sure that Tara hadn’t been as fond of Franklin Mott as she’d been saying, that she was much more interested in his lavish gifts and courteous treatment than in him. Of course, he’d known that. He might not have much cared if Tara liked him for himself or not, but that had surely made him more inclined to trade her off. “So how’d it happen?”
    “Well, it wasn’t so abrupt as I’ve made it sound,” she said. She stared down at her hands. “First Franklin said he couldn’t go somewhere with me, so would it be okay if this other guy took me instead? I thought he was thinking of me, of how disappointed I’d be if I didn’t get to go—it was a concert—so I really didn’t brood over it. Mickey was on his best behavior, and it wasn’t a bad evening. He left me at the door, like a gentleman.”
    I tried not to raise my eyebrows in disbelief. The snakelike Mickey, whose every pore breathed “bad to the bone,” had persuaded Tara he was a gentleman? “Okay, so then what?”
    “Then Franklin had to go out of town, so Mickey came by to see if I had everything I needed, and he brought me a present, which I thought was from Franklin.”
    Tara was lying to me, and halfway lying to herself. She had surely known the present, a bracelet, was from Mickey. She had persuaded herself it was kind of a vassal’s tribute to his lord’s lady, but she had known it wasn’t from Franklin.
    “So I took it, and we went out, and then when we came back that night, he started making advances. And I broke that off.” She gave me a calm and regal face.
    She may have repulsed his advances that night, but she hadn’t done it instantly and decisively.
    Even Tara forgot I could read her mind.
    “So that time he left,” she said. She took a deep breath. “The next time, he didn’t.”
    He’d given plenty of advance warning of his intentions.
    I looked at her. She flinched. “I know,” she wailed. “I know, I did wrong!”
    “So, is he living at your place?”
    “He’s got a day place somewhere close,” she said, limp with misery. “He shows up at dark, and we’re together the whole night. He takes me to meetings, he takes me out, and he . . .”
    “Okay, okay.” I patted her hand. That didn’t seem like enough, and I hugged her closer. Tara was taller than I, so it wasn’t a very maternal hug, but I just wanted my friend to know I was on her side.
    “He’s real rough,” Tara said very quietly. “He’s going to kill me some day.”
    “Not if we kill him first.”
    “Oh, we can’t.”
    “You think he’s too strong?”
    “I think I can’t kill someone, even him.”
    “Oh.” I had thought Tara had more grit