"To the Dark Side?" I asked, and then I bit my lip. This was no subject for levity.
"Yes," Bill agreed seriously. "And we were together after that, as lovers, which is not always the case."
"But you had broken up..."
"Yes, about eighty years ago, we came to the point where we couldn't tolerate each other any longer. I hadn't seen Lorena since, though I'd heard of her doings, of course."
"Oh, sure," I said expressionlessly.
"But I had to obey her summons. This is absolutely imperative. When your maker calls, you must respond." His voice was urgent.
I nodded, trying to look understanding. I guess I didn't do too good a job.
"She ordered me to leave you," he said. His dark eyes were peering into mine. "She said she would kill you if I didn't."
I was losing my temper. I bit the inside of my cheek, real hard, to make myself focus. "So, without explanation or discussion with me, you decided what was best for me and for you."
"I had to," he said. "I had to do her bidding. And I knew she was capable of harming you."
"Well, you got that right." In fact, Lorena had done her dead level best to harm me right into the grave. But I'd gotten her first - okay, by a fluke, but it had worked.
"And now you no longer love me," Bill said, with the slightest of questions in his voice.
I didn't have any clear answer.
"I don't know," I said. "I wouldn't think you'd want to come back to me. After all, I killed your mom." And there was the slightest of questions in my voice, too, but mostly I was bitter.
"Then we need more time apart. When I return, if you consent, we'll talk again. A kiss good-bye?"
To my shame, I would love to kiss Bill again. But it was such a bad idea, even wanting it seemed wrong. We stood, and I gave him a quick brush of lips to the cheek. His white skin shone with a little glow that distinguished vampires from humans. It had surprised me to learn that not everyone saw them like I did.
"Are you seeing the Were?" he asked, when he was nearly out the door. He sounded as though the words had been pulled out of him by their roots.
"Which one?" I asked, resisting the temptation to bat my eyelashes. He deserved no answer, and he knew it. "How long will you be gone?" I asked more briskly, and he looked at me with some speculation.
"It's not a sure thing. Maybe two weeks," he answered.
"We might talk then," I said, turning my face away. "Let me return your key." I fished my keys out of my purse.
"No, please, keep it on your key ring," he said. "You might need it while I am gone. Go in the house as you will. My mail's getting held at the post office until I give them notice, and I think all my other loose ends are taken care of."
So I was his last loose end. I damned up the trickle of anger that was all too ready to bubble out these days.
"I hope you have a safe trip," I said coldly, and shut the door behind him. I headed back to my bedroom. I had a robe to put on and some television to watch. By golly, I was sticking to my plan.
But while I was putting my pizza in the oven, I had to blot my cheeks a few times.
Chapter 1
1
The New Year's Eve party at Merlotte's Bar and Grill was finally, finally, over. Though the bar owner, Sam Merlotte, had asked all his staff to work that night, Holly, Arlene, and I were the only ones who'd responded. Charlsie Tooten had said she was too old to put up with the mess we had to endure on New Year's Eve, Danielle had long-standing plans to attend a fancy party with her steady boyfriend, and a new woman couldn't start for two days. I guess Arlene and Holly and I needed the money more than we needed a good time.
And I hadn't had any invitations to do anything else. At least when I'm working at Merlotte's, I'm a part of the scenery. That's a kind of acceptance.
I was sweeping up the shredded paper, and I reminded myself again not to comment to Sam on what a poor idea the bags of confetti had been. We'd all made ourselves pretty clear about that, and even good-natured Sam was showing signs of wear and tear. It didn't seem fair to leave it all for Terry Bellefleur to clean, though sweeping and mopping the floors was his job.
Sam was counting the till money and bagging it up so he could go by the night deposit at the bank. He was looking tired but pleased.
He flicked open his cell phone. "Kenya? You ready to take me to the bank? Okay, see you in a minute at the back door." Kenya, a police officer, often escorted Sam to the night deposit, especially after a big take like tonight's.
I was pleased with my money take, too. I had earned a lot in tips. I thought I might have gotten three hundred dollars or more - and I needed every penny. I would have enjoyed the prospect of totting up the money when I got home, if I'd been sure I had enough brains left to do it. The noise and chaos of the party, the constant runs to and from the bar and the serving hatch, the tremendous mess we'd had to clean up, the steady cacophony of all those brains... it had combined to exhaust me. Toward the end I'd been too tired to keep my poor mind protected, and lots of thoughts had leaked through.
It's not easy being telepathic. Most often, it's not fun.
This evening had been worse than most. Not only had the bar patrons, almost all known to me for many years, been in uninhibited moods, but there'd been some news that lots of people were just dying to tell me.
"I hear yore boyfriend done gone to South America," a car salesman, Chuck Beecham, had said, malice gleaming in his eyes. "You gonna get mighty lonely out to your place without him."
"You offering to take his place, Chuck?" the man beside him at the bar had asked, and they both had a we're-men-together guffaw.
"Naw, Terrell," said the salesman. "I don't care for vampire leavings."
"You be polite, or you go out the door," I said steadily. I felt warmth at my back, and I knew my boss, Sam Merlotte, was looking at them over my shoulder.
"Trouble?" he asked.
"They were just about to apologize," I said, looking Chuck and Terrell in the eyes. They looked down at their beers.
"Sorry, Sookie," Chuck mumbled, and Terrell bobbed his head in agreement. I nodded and turned to take care of another order. But they'd succeeded in hurting me.
Which was their goal.
I had an ache around my heart.
I was sure the general populace of Bon Temps, Louisiana, didn't know about our estrangement. Bill sure wasn't in the habit of blabbing his personal business around, and neither was I. Arlene and Tara knew a little about it, of course, since you have to tell your best friends when you've broken up with your guy, even if you have to leave out all the interesting details. (Like the fact that you'd killed the woman he left you for. Which I couldn't help. Really.) So anyone who told me Bill had gone out of the country, assuming I didn't know it yet, was just being malicious.