Living Dead in Dallas

would never have asked me because he doesn’t like me. Though I’ve never been anything but nice to him his whole life! But now, it’s okay to ask me for help, because he really needs me.”
    Portia’s fair complexion was turning a deep unbecoming red. I knew it wasn’t very pleasant of me to take out her brother’s problems on her, but she had, after all, agreed to be the messenger. You know what happens to messengers. That made me think of my own messenger role the night before, and I wondered if I should be feeling lucky today.
    “I wasn’t for this,” she muttered. It hurt her pride, to ask a favor of a barmaid; a Stackhouse, to boot.
    Nobody liked me having a “gift.” No one wanted me to use it on her. But everyone wanted me to find out something to her advantage, no matter how I felt about sifting through the thoughts (mostly unpleasant and irrelevant) of bar patrons to glean pertinent information.
    “You’d probably forgotten that just recently Andy arrested my brother for murder?” Of course he’d had to let Jason go, but still.
    If Portia had turned any redder she’d have lit a fire. “Just forget it, then,” she said, scraping together all her dignity. “We don’t need help from a freak like you, anyway.”
    I had touched her at the quick, because Portia had always been courteous, if not warm.
    “Listen to me, Portia Bellefleur. I’ll listen a little. Not for you or your brother, but because I liked Lafayette. He was a friend of mine, and he was always sweeter to me than you or Andy.”
    “I don’t like you.”
    “I don’t care.”
    “Darling, is there a problem?” asked a cool voice from behind me.
    Bill. I reached with my mind, and felt the relaxing empty space right behind me. Other minds just buzzed like bees in a jar, but Bill’s was like a globe filled with air. It was wonderful. Portia stood up so abruptly that her chair almost went over backwards. She was frightened of even being close to Bill, like he was a venomous snake or something.
    “Portia was just asking me for a favor,” I said slowly, aware for the first time that our little trio was attracting a certain amount of attention from the crowd.
    “In return for the many kind things the Bellefleurs have done for you?” Bill asked. Portia snapped. She whirled around to stalk out of the bar. Bill watched her leave with the oddest expression of satisfaction.
    “Now I have to find out what that was about,” I said, and leaned back against him. His arms circled me and drew me back closer to him. It was like being cuddled by a tree.
    “The vampires in Dallas have made their arrangements,” Bill said. “Can you leave tomorrow evening?”
    “What about you?”
    “I can travel in my coffin, if you’re willing to make sure I’m unloaded at the airport. Then we’ll have all night to find out what it is the Dallas vampires want us to do.”
    “So I’ll have to take you to the airport in a hearse?”
    “No, sweetheart. Just get yourself there. There’s a transportation service that does that kind of thing.”
    “Just takes vampires places in daytime?”
    “Yes, they’re licensed and bonded.”
    I’d have to think about that for a while. “Want a bottle? Sam has some on the heater.”
    “Yes, please, I’d like some O positive.”
    My blood type. How sweet. I smiled at Bill, not my strained normal grin, but a true smile from my heart. I was so lucky to have him, no matter how many problems we had as a couple. I couldn’t believe I’d kissed someone else, and I blotted out that idea as soon as it skittered across my mind.
    Bill smiled back, maybe not the most reassuring sight, since he was happy to see me. “How soon can you get off?” he asked, leaning closer.
    I glanced down at my watch. “Thirty minutes,” I promised.
    “I’ll be waiting for you.” He sat at the table Portia had vacated, and I brought him the blood, tout de suite.
    Kevin drifted over to talk to him, ended up sitting down at the table. I was near enough only twice to catch fragments of the conversation; they were talking about the types of crimes we had in our small town, and theprice of gas, and who would win the next sheriff’s election. It was so normal! I beamed with pride. When Bill had first started coming into Merlotte’s, the atmosphere had been on the strained side. Now, people came and went casually, speaking to Bill or only nodding, but not making a big issue of it either way. There were enough legal issues facing