"What kind?"
"A live oak," I said off the top of my head.
"Where can you get one?"
"At the Garden Center. I'll go sometime this week."
"They take a long time to grow."
"What difference would that make to you?" I snapped. I put the shovel up in the shed, then leaned against it, suddenly exhausted.
Bill made as if to pick me up.
"I am a grown woman," I snarled. "I can walk into the house on my own."
"Have I done something to you?" Bill asked. There was very little loving in his voice, and I was brought up short. I had indulged myself enough.
"I apologize," I said. "Again."
"What has made you so angry?"
I just couldn't tell him about Arlene.
"What do you do when you get mad, Bill?"
"I tear up a tree," he said. "Sometimes I hurt someone."
Digging a hole didn't seem so bad. It had been sort of constructive. But I was still wired - it was just more of a subdued buzz than a high-frequency whine. I cast around restlessly for something to affect.
Bill seemed adept at reading the symptoms. "Make love," he suggested. "Make love with me."
"I'm not in the right mood for love."
"Let me try to persuade you."
It turned out he could.
At least it wore off the excess energy of anger, but I still had a residue of sadness that sex couldn't cure. Arlene had hurt my feelings. I stared into space while Bill braided my hair, a pastime that he apparently found soothing.
Every now and then I felt like I was Bill's doll.
"Jason was in the bar tonight," I said.
"What did he want?"
Bill was too clever by far, sometimes, at reading people.
"He appealed to my mind-reading powers. He wanted me to scan the minds of the men who came into the bar until I found out who the murderer was."
"Except for a few dozen flaws, that's not a bad idea."
"You think?"
"Both your brother and I will be regarded with less suspicion if the murderer is in jail. And you'll be safe."
"That's true, but I don't know how to go about it. It would be hard, and painful, and boring, to wade through all that stuff trying to find a little bit of information, a flash of thought."
"Not any more painful or hard than being suspected of murder. You're just accustomed to keeping your gift locked up."
"Do you think so?" I began to turn to look at his face, but he held me still so he could finish braiding. I'd never seen keeping out of people's minds as selfish, but in this case I supposed it was. I would have to invade a lot of privacy. "A detective," I murmured, trying to see myself in a better light than just nosey.
"Sookie," Bill said, and something in his voice made me take notice. "Eric has told me to bring you to Shreveport again."
It took me a second to remember who Eric was. "Oh, the big Viking vampire?"
"The very old vampire," Bill said precisely.
"You mean, he ordered you to bring me there?" I didn't like the sound of this at all. I'd been sitting on the side of the bed, Bill behind me, and now I turned to look in his face. This time he didn't stop me. I stared at Bill, seeing something in his face that I'd never seen before. "You have to do this," I said, appalled. I could not imagine someone giving Bill an order. "But honey, I don't want to go see Eric."
I could see that made no difference.
"What is he, the Godfather of vampires?" I asked, angry and incredulous. "Did he give you an offer you couldn't refuse?"
"He is older than me. More to the point, he is stronger."
"Nobody's stronger than you," I said stoutly.
"I wish you were right."
"So is he the head of Vampire Region Ten, or something?"
"Yes. Something like that."
Bill was always closemouthed about how vampires controlled their own affairs. That had been fine with me, until now.
"What does he want? What will happen if I don't go?"
Bill just sidestepped the first question. "He'll send someone - several someones - to get you."
"Other vampires."
"Yes." Bill's eyes were opaque, shining with his difference, brown and rich.
I tried to think this through. I wasn't used to being ordered around. I wasn't used to no choices at all. It took my thick skull several minutes to evaluate the situation.
"So, you'd feel obliged to fight them?"
"Of course. You are mine."
There was that "mine" again. It seemed he really meant it. I sure felt like whining, but I knew it wouldn't do any good.
"I guess I have to go," I said, trying not to sound bitter. "This is just plain old blackmail."
"Sookie, vampires aren't like humans. Eric is using the best means to achieve his goal, which is getting you to Shreveport. He didn't have to spell all this out; I understood it."
"Well, I understand it now, but I hate it. I'm between a rock and hard place! What does he want me for, anyway?" An obvious answer popped right into my mind, and I looked at Bill, horrified. "Oh, no, I won't do that!"
"He won't have sex with you or bite you, not without killing me." Bill's glowing face lost all vestiges of familiarity and became utterly alien.
"And he knows that," I said tentatively, "so there must be another reason he wants me in Shreveport."
"Yes," Bill agreed, "but I don't know what it is."
"Well, if it doesn't have to do with my physical charms, or the unusual quality of my blood, it must have to do with my ... little quirk."
"Your gift."
"Right," I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "My precious gift." All the anger I thought I'd eased off my shoulders came back to sit like a four-hundred-pound gorilla. And I was scared to death. I wondered how Bill felt. I was even scared to ask that.
"When?" I asked instead.
"Tomorrow night."
"I guess this is the downside of nontraditional dating." I stared over Bill's shoulder at the pattern of the wallpaper my grandmother had chosen ten years ago. I promised myself that if I got through this, I would repaper.
"I love you." His voice was just a whisper.
This wasn't Bill's fault. "I love you, too," I said. I had to stop myself from begging, Please don't let the bad vampire hurt me, please don't let the vampire rape me. If I was between a rock and a hard place, Bill was doubly so. I couldn't even begin to estimate the self-control he was employing. Unless he really was calm? Could a vampire face pain and this form of helplessness without some inner turmoil?