Dead Until Dark

after a moment.
    “Nothing,” I said, trying to keep my voice even, and I sat in the passenger’s seat and stared straight ahead of me.
    I told myself I might as well be mad at the cow who had given him his hamburger. But somehow the simile just didn’t work.
    “You smell different,” I said after we’d been on the highway for a few minutes. We drove for a few minutes in silence.
    “Now you know how I will feel if Eric touches you,” he told me. “But I think I’ll feel worse because Eric will enjoy touching you, and I didn’t much enjoy my feeding.”
    I figured that wasn’t totally, strictly true: I know I always enjoy eating even if I’m not served my favorite food. But I appreciated the sentiment.
    We didn’t talk much. We were both worried about what was ahead of us. All too soon, we were parking at Fangtasia again, but this time in the back. As Bill held open the car door, I had to fight an impulse to cling to the seat and refuse to get out. Once I made myself emerge, I had another struggle involving my intense desire to hide behind Bill. I gave a kind of gasp, took his arm, and we walked to the door like we were going to a party we were anticipating with pleasure.
    Bill looked down at me with approval.
    I fought an urge to scowl at him.
    He knocked on the metal door with FANGTASIA stencilled on it. We were in a service and delivery alley that ran behind all the stores in the little strip mall. There were several other cars parked back there, Eric’s sporty red convertible among them. All the vehicles were high-priced.
    You won’t find a vampire in a Ford Fiesta.
    Bill knocked, three quick, two spaced apart. The Secret Vampire Knock, I guess. Maybe I’d get to learn the Secret Handshake.
    The beautiful blond vampire opened the door, the female who’d been at the table with Eric when I’d been to the bar before. She stood back without speaking to let us enter.
    If Bill had been human, he would have protested at how tightly I was holding his hand.
    The female was in front of us more quickly than my eyes could follow, and I started. Bill wasn’t surprised at all, naturally. She led us through a storeroom disconcertingly similar to Merlotte’s and into a little corridor. We went through the door on our right.
    Eric was in the small room, his presence dominating it. Bill didn’t exactly kneel to kiss his ring, but he did nod kind of deep. There was another vampire in the room, the bartender, Long Shadow; he was in fine form tonight, in a skinny-strap tee and weight-lifting pants, all in deep green.
    “Bill, Sookie,” Eric greeted us. “Bill, you and Sookie know Long Shadow. Sookie, you remember Pam.” Pam was the blond female. “And this is Bruce.”
    Bruce was a human, the most frightened human I’d ever seen. I had considerable sympathy with that. Middle-aged and paunchy, Bruce had thinning dark hair that curved in stiff waves across his scalp. He was jowly and small-mouthed. He was wearing a nice suit, beige, with a white shirt and a brown and navy patterned tie. He was sweating heavily. He was in a straight chair across the desk from Eric. Naturally, Eric was in the power chair. Pam and Long Shadow were standing against the wall across from Eric, by the door. Bill took his place beside them, but as I moved to join him, Eric spoke again.
    “Sookie, listen to Bruce.”
    I stood staring at Bruce for a second, waiting for him to speak, until I understood what Eric meant.
    “What exactly am I listening for?” I asked, knowing my voice was sharp.
    “Someone has embezzled about sixty thousand dollars from us,” Eric explained.
    Boy, somebody had a death wish.
    “And rather than put all our human employees to death or torture, we thought perhaps you would look into their minds and tell us who it was.”
    He said “death or torture” as calmly as I said, “Bud or Old Milwaukee.”
    “And then what will you do?” I asked.
    Eric seemed surprised.
    “Whoever it is will give our money back,” he said simply.
    “And then?”
    His big blue eyes narrowed as he stared at me.
    “Why, if we can produce proof of the crime, we’ll turn the culprit over to the police,” he said smoothly.
    Liar, liar, pants on fire. “I’ll make a deal, Eric,” I said, not bothering to smile. Winsome did not count with Eric, and he was far from any desire to jump my bones. At the moment.
    He smiled, indulgently. “What would that be, Sookie?”
    “If you really do turn the guilty person over to the