Dead Ever After: A True Blood Novel

girlfriend, I really enjoyed our road trip. I’m wearing the shorts right now, lol. We have to do something about the babies’ room, I can hardly get my fat ass in there. I thought it was big enuf before I had twins! I’m hiring a babysitter so I can get back to work part time. Here are some more pictures of the babies.
    They didn’t look much different from the way they had in the pictures she had yesterday. Nonetheless, I sent her an admiring message. I know what a friend should do. I wondered how Tara and JB could increase the size of the babies’ little room. Sam was pretty handy with carpentry. Maybe they’d rope him in, too.
    I’d gotten a text from Jason. “U working 2morrow?” I assured him I was. He probably needed to drop in to talk about some detail of the wedding, which was going to be about as casual as a wedding could be.
    I thought of turning on the television, but it was summer, so there wasn’t much point. I’d read instead. I got the top book off the library stack on my bedside table and was pleased to discover it was the latest Dana Stabenow. It’s really a treat to read about Alaska when it’s a summer day that peaked at 104 degrees. I hoped that maybe someday I’d get up there. I wanted to see a grizzly bear, and I wanted to see a glacier, and I wanted to eat fresh salmon.
    I found I was holding the book in both hands and imagining. Since I couldn’t concentrate on the page, I might as well throw supper together. It was getting late. While I made a salad with cherry tomatoes and dried cranberries and chopped chicken, I tried to picture how big a grizzly might be. I’d never seen any kind of bear in the wild, though twice I’d found prints in the woods I was pretty sure were a black bear’s.
    I was in a better mood altogether as I ate and read, two of my favorite activities.
    It had been a long day, what with one thing and another, and by the time I crawled into my bed, I was ready to sleep. A peaceful night with no dreams; that was what I wanted. And for a while, I got it.
    “Sookie.”
    “Mmmh?”
    “Wake up, Sookie. I need to talk to you.”
    My bedroom was quite dark. Even the little night-light I left on in the bathroom was out. But I knew, even before I caught his familiar scent, that Eric was in my room.
    “I’m awake,” I said, still struggling to clear the sleep out of my head. The jolt of fear I’d gotten had gone far toward that end. “Why are you sneaking in like this? I gave you a key for emergencies, not for surprise night visits.”
    “Sookie, listen to me.”
    “I’m listening.” Not happy about this approach to conversation, though.
    “I had to be curt on the phone. There are ears all around me. No matter what happens in public—no matter what—don’t doubt that I love you and care about your welfare . . . as much as I am able.”
    Not good.
    “And you’re telling me this because you’re going to do something bad to me in public,” I said, sadly unsurprised.
    “I hope it won’t come to that,” he said, and he put his arms around me. In happier times, I’d found that being close to Eric in the summer was very pleasant because his body temp was so low, but I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy the sensation just at the moment. “I have to go,” he said. “I had only an hour when I wouldn’t be missed. I was angry when you saved Sam. But I can’t just dismiss you as if I didn’t care. And I can’t leave you unprotected tonight. My guard will be here if you consent.”
    “What guard? Okay,” I said dazedly. He was leaving someone in the yard?
    I felt him get off the bed, and after a second I heard the back door open.
    What the hell?
    I collapsed back onto the bed, and I spent a few minutes wondering if it was even possible I’d get some more sleep. I looked at the clock. Eleven forty-five p.m.
    “Sure, wander in and get in bed with me. I don’t mind,” I said. “Please, wake me up and scare me to death. I love it!”
    “Is that an invitation?” said a voice from the dark.
    I did scream then.

Chapter 6
    “Who the hell are you?” I asked, fighting the paralysis in my throat.
    “Sorry!” said an accented voice. “I’m Karin.”
    I couldn’t place the accent—not Cajun or Spanish or English. . . . “How’d you get in?”
    “Eric let me in. You said you consented to be guarded.”
    “I thought he meant someone would be outside.”
    “He said, ‘here.’ ”
    I thought back over the conversation I’d just had, which I