Dead to the World

Alcide to call the cops in Bon Temps from his cell phone, and he’d gotten another negative message. No, they hadn’t heard any more on Jason, and no one had called to say they’d seen him. So I didn’t stop by the police station on my way home, but I did have to go to the grocery to buy some margarine and bread, and I did have to go in the liquor store to pick up some blood.
    The first thing I saw when I pushed open the door of Super Save-A-Bunch was a little display of bottled blood, which saved me a stop at the liquor store. The second thing I saw was the poster with the headshot of Eric. I assumed it was the photo Eric had had made when he opened Fangtasia, because it was a very nonthreatening picture. He was projecting winsome worldliness; any person in this universe would know that he’d never, ever bite. It was headed, “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS VAMPIRE?”
    I read the text carefully. Everything Jason had said about it was true. Fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money. That Hallow must be really nuts about Eric to pay that much, if all she wanted was a hump. It was hard to believe gaining control of Fangtasia (and having the bed services of Eric) would afford her a profit after paying out a reward that large. I was increasingly doubtful that I knew the whole story, and I was increasingly sure I was sticking my neck out and might get it bitten off.
    Hoyt Fortenberry, Jason’s big buddy, was loading pizzas into his buggy in the frozen food aisle. “Hey, Sookie, where you think ole Jason got to?” he called as soon as he saw me. Hoyt, big and beefy and no rocket scientist, looked genuinely concerned.
    “I wish I knew,” I said, coming closer so we could talk without everyone in the store recording every word. “I’m pretty worried.”
    “You don’t think he’s just gone off with some girl he met? That girl he was with New Year’s Eve was pretty cute.”
    “What was her name?”
    “Crystal. Crystal Norris.”
    “Where’s she from?”
    “From round Hotshot, out thataway.” He nodded south.
    Hotshot was even smaller than Bon Temps. It was about ten miles away and had a reputation for being a strange little community. The Hotshot kids who attended the Bon Temps school always stuck together, and they were all a smidge . . . different. It didn’t surprise me at all that Crystal lived in Hotshot.
    “So,” Hoyt said, persisting in making his point, “Crystal might have asked him to come stay with her.” But his brain was saying he didn’t believe it, he was only trying to comfort me and himself. We both knew that Jason would have phoned by now, no matter how good a time he was having with any woman.
    But I decided I’d give Crystal a call when I had a clear ten minutes, which might not be any time tonight. I asked Hoyt to pass on Crystal’s name to the sheriff’s department, and he said he would. He didn’t seem too happy about the idea. I could tell that if the missing man had been anyone but Jason, Hoyt would have refused. But Jason had always been Hoyt’s source of recreation and general amusement, since Jason was far more clever and inventive than the slow-moving, slow-thinking Hoyt: If Jason never reappeared, Hoyt would have a dull life.
    We parted in the Super Save-A-Bunch parking lot, and I felt relieved that Hoyt hadn’t asked me about the TrueBlood I’d purchased. Neither had the cashier, though she’d handled the bottles with distaste. As I’d paid for it, I’d thought about how much I was in the hole from hosting Eric already. Clothes and blood mounted up.
    It was just dark when I got to my house and pulled the plastic grocery bags out of the car. I unlocked my back door and went in, calling to Eric as I switched on the kitchen light. I didn’t hear an answer, so I put the groceries away, leaving a bottle of TrueBlood out of the refrigerator so he could have it to hand when he got hungry. I got the shotgun out of my trunk and loaded it, sticking it in the shadow of the water heater. I took a minute to call the sheriff’s department again. No news of Jason, said the dispatcher.
    I slumped against the kitchen wall for a long moment, feeling dejected. It wasn’t a good thing to just sit around, being depressed. Maybe I’d go out to the living room and pop a movie into the VCR, as entertainment for Eric. He’d gone through all my Buffy tapes, and I didn’t have Angel . I wondered if he’d like Gone with the Wind . (For all I knew, he’d been around when they were filming