Living Dead in Dallas

of my eyes.
    “This is my companion and coworker, Sookie Stackhouse,” Bill said.
    After a moment, she nodded to show she was picking up the hint. “I am Isabel Beaumont,” she said, “and after you take your luggage to your room and take care of your needs, you are to come with me.”
    Bill said, “I have to feed.”
    Isabel swiveled an eye toward me thoughtfully, no doubt wondering why I wasn’t supplying blood for my escort, but it was none of her business. She said, “Just punch the telephone button for room service.”
     
    M EASLY OLD MORTAL me would just have to order from the menu. But as I considered the time frame, I realized I’d feel much better if I waited to eat after this evening’s business was finished.
    After our bags had been put in the bedroom (big enough for the coffin and a bed), the silence in the little living room became uncomfortable. There was a little refrigerator well stocked with PureBlood, but this evening Bill would want the real thing.
    “I have to call, Sookie,” Bill said. We’d gone over this before the trip.
    “Of course.” Without looking at him, I retreated into the bedroom and shut the door. He might have to feed off someone else so I could keep my strength up for coming events, but I didn’t have to watch it or like it. After a few minutes, I heard a knock on the corridor door and I heard Bill admit someone—his Meal onWheels. There was a little murmur of voices and then a low moan.
    Unfortunately for my tension level, I had too much common sense to do something like throw my hairbrush or one of the damn high heels across the room. Maybe retaining some dignity figured in there, too; and a healthy sense of how much temperament Bill would put up with. So I unpacked my suitcase and laid my makeup out in the bathroom, using the facility even though I didn’t feel especially needy. Toilets were optional in the vampire world, I’d learned, and even if a functional facility was available in a house occupied by vampires, occasionally they forgot to stock toilet paper.
    Soon I heard the outer door open and close again, and Bill knocked lightly before coming into the bedroom. He looked rosy and his face was fuller.
    “Are you ready?” he asked. Suddenly, the fact that I was going out on my first real job for the vampires hit me, and I felt scared all over again. If I wasn’t a success, my life would become out-and-out perilous, and Bill might become even deader than he was now. I nodded, my throat dry with fear.
    “Don’t bring your purse.”
    “Why not?” I stared down at it, astonished. Who could object?
    “Things can be hidden in purses.” Things like stakes, I assumed. “Just slip a room key into . . . does that skirt have a pocket?”
    “No.”
    “Well, slip the key into your underthings.”
    I raised my hem so Bill could see exactly what underthings I had to tuck something into. I enjoyed the expression on his face more than I can say.
    “Those are . . . would that be a . . . thong?” Bill seemed a little preoccupied all of a sudden.
    “It would. I didn’t see the need to be professional down to the skin.”
    “And what skin it is,” Bill murmured. “So tan, so . . . smooth.”
    “Yep, I figured I didn’t need to wear any hose.” I tucked the plastic rectangle—the “key”—under one of the side straps.
    “Oh, I don’t think it’ll stay there,” he said, his eyes large and luminous. “We might get separated, so you definitely need to take it with you. Try another spot.”
    I moved it somewhere else.
    “Oh, Sookie. You’ll never get at it in a hurry there. We have . . . ah, we have to go.” Bill seemed to shake himself out of his trance.
    “All right, if you insist,” I said, smoothing the skirt of the suit over my “underthings.”
    He gave me a dark look, patted his pockets like men do, just to make sure they got everything. It was an oddly human gesture, and it touched me in a way I couldn’t even describe to myself. We gave each other a sharp nod and walked down the corridor to the elevator. Isabel Beaumont would be waiting, and I had a distinct feeling she wasn’t used to that.
    The ancient vampire, who looked no more than thirty-five, was standing exactly where we’d left her. Here at the Silent Shore Hotel, Isabel felt free to be her vampire self, which included immobile downtime. People fidget. They are compelled to look engaged in an activity, or purposeful. Vampires can just occupy space without