Dead to the World

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
     
Copyright © 2004 by Charlaine Harris Schulz.
     
    All rights reserved.
    No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. ACE and the “A” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
     
     
    eISBN : 978-1-101-13403-0
     
     
    Harris, Charlaine.
    p. cm.
    eISBN : 978-1-101-13403-0
    1. Vampires—Fiction. 2. Louisiana—Fiction. 3. Telepathy—Fiction. 4. Waitresses—Fiction. 5. City and town life—Fiction. I. Title.
     
    PS3558.A6427D435 2004
    813’.54—dc22
    2003063593

     
     

    http://us.penguingroup.com

Though they’ll probably never read it, this book is dedicated to all the coaches—baseball, football, volleyball, soccer—who’ve worked through so many years, often for no monetary reward, to coax athletic performances out of my children and to instill in them an understanding of The Game. God bless you all, and thanks from one of the moms who crowds the stands through rain, cold, heat, and mosquitoes.
     
    However, this mom always wonders who else might be watching the night games.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
    My thanks to Wiccans who answered my call for knowledge with more information than I could use—Maria Lima, Sandilee Lloyd, Holly Nelson, Jean Hontz, and M. R. “Murv” Sellars. I owe further thanks to other experts in different fields: Kevin Ryer, who knows more about feral hogs than most people do about their own pets; Dr. D. P. Lyle, who is so gracious about answering medical questions; and, of course, Doris Ann Norris, reference librarian to the stars.
     
    If I have made mistakes in the use of the knowledge these kind people imparted, I’ll do my best to somehow blame it on them.

I FOUND THE NOTE TAPED TO MY DOOR WHEN I GOT home from work. I’d had the lunch-to-early-evening shift at Merlotte’s, but since we were at the tail end of December, the day darkened early. So Bill, my former boyfriend—that’s Bill Compton, or Vampire Bill, as most of the regulars at Merlotte’s call him—must have left his message within the previous hour. He can’t get up until dark.
    I hadn’t seen Bill in over a week, and our parting hadn’t been a happy one. But touching the envelope with my name written on it made me feel miserable. You’d think—though I’m twenty-six—I’d never had, and lost, a boyfriend before.
    You’d be right.
    Normal guys don’t want to date someone as strange as I am. People have been saying I’m messed up in the head since I started school.
    They’re right.
    That’s not to say I don’t get groped at the bar occasionally. Guys get drunk. I look good. They forget their misgivings about my reputation for strangeness and my ever-present smile.
    But only Bill has ever gotten close to me in an intimate way. Parting from him had hurt me bad.
    I waited to open the envelope until I was sitting at the old, scarred kitchen table. I still had my coat on, though I’d shucked my gloves.
    Dearest