Dead as a Doornail

was in fighting trim yet, but I could not watch Tara being choked. “Not yet,” Eric said urgently, but I had already told Mickey to come in.
    “Oops,” I said, and then Mickey slithered through the window in an oddly boneless movement. He knocked the broken glass out of the way carelessly, like it didn’t hurt him to get cut. He dragged Tara through after him, though at least he’d switched his grip from her neck to her arm. Then he dropped her on the floor, and the rain coming in the window pelted down on her, though she couldn’t be any wetter than she already was. I wasn’t even sure she was conscious. Her eyes were closed in her bloody face, and her bruises were turning dark. I stood, swaying with the blood loss, but keeping my wrist concealed by resting it on the back of the armchair. I’d felt Eric lick it, but it would take a few minutes to heal.
    “What do you want?” I asked Mickey. As if I didn’t know.
    “Your head, bitch,” he said, his narrow features twisted with hatred, his fangs completely out. They were white and glistening and sharp in the bright overhead light. “Get down on your knees to your betters!” Before I could react in any way—in fact before I could blink—the vampire backhanded me, and I stumbled across the small room, landing half on the couch before I slid to the floor. The air went out of me in a big whoosh, and I simply couldn’t move, couldn’t even gasp for air, for an agonizingly long minute. In the meantime, Mickey was on top of me, his intentions completely clear when he reached down to unzip his pants. “This is all you’re good for!” he said, contempt making him even uglier. He tried to push his way into my head, too, forcing the fear of him into my brain to cow me.
    And my lungs inflated. The relief of breathing was exquisite, even under the circumstances. With air came rage, as if I’d inhaled it along with oxygen. This was the trump card male bullies played, always. I was sick of it—sick of being scared of the bogeyman’s dick.
    “No!” I screamed up at him. “No!” And finally I could think again; finally the fear let loose of me. “Your invitation is rescinded !” I yelled, and it was his turn to panic. He reared up off of me, looking ridiculous with his pants open, and he went backward out of the window, stepping on poor Tara as he went. He tried to bend, to grip her so he could yank her with him, but I lunged across the little room to grab her ankles, and her arms were too slick with rain to give him purchase, and the magic that had hold of him was too strong. In a second, he was outside looking in, screaming with rage. Then he looked east, as if he heard someone calling, and he vanished into the darkness.
    Eric pushed himself to his feat, looking almost as startledas Mickey. “That was clearer thinking than most humans can manage,” he said mildly into the sudden silence. “How are you, Sookie?” He reached down a hand and pulled me to my feet. “I myself am feeling much better. I’ve had your blood without having to talk you into it, and I didn’t have to fight Mickey. You did all the work.”
    “You got hit in the head with a rock,” I pointed out, content just to stand for a minute, though I knew I had to call an ambulance for Tara. I was feeling a little on the weak side myself.
    “A small price to pay,” Eric told me. He brought out his cell phone, flipped it open, and pressed the REDIAL button. “Salome,” Eric said, “glad you answered the phone. He’s trying to run. . . .”
    I heard the gleeful laughter coming from the other end of the phone. It was chilling. I couldn’t feel the least bit sorry for Mickey, but I was glad I wouldn’t have to witness his punishment.
    “Salome’ll catch him?” I asked.
    Eric nodded happily as he returned his phone to his pocket. “And she can do things to him more painful than anything I could imagine,” he said. “Though I can imagine plenty right now.”
    “She’s that, ah, creative?”
    “He’s hers. She’s his sire. She can do with him what she wishes. He can’t disobey her and go unpunished. He has to go to her when she calls him, and she’s calling.”
    “Not on the phone, I take it,” I ventured.
    His eyes glinted down at me. “No, she won’t need a phone. He’s trying to run away, but he’ll go to her eventually. The longer he holds out, the more severe his torture will be. Of course,” he added, in case I missed the point, “that’s as it