• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“You know me? Who am I?”

Well, that knocked me for a loop. He sure didn’t sound like he was joking. I said cautiously, “Of course I know you, Eric. Unless you have an identical twin. You don’t, right?”

“I don’t know.” His arms dropped, his fangs seemed to be retracting, and he straightened from his crouch, so I felt there’d been a definite improvement in the atmosphere of our encounter.

“You don’t know if you have a brother?” I was pretty much at sea.

“No. I don’t know. Eric is my name?” In the glare of my headlights, he looked just plain pitiful.

“Wow.” I couldn’t think of anything more helpful to say. “Eric Northman is the name you go by these days. Why are you out here?”

“I don’t know that, either.”

I was sensing a theme here. “For real? You don’t remember anything?” I tried to get past being sure that at any second he’d grin down at me and explain everything and laugh, embroiling me in some trouble that would end in me . . . getting beaten up.

“For real.” He took a step closer, and his bare white chest made me shiver with sympathetic goose bumps. I also realized (now that I wasn’t terrified) how forlorn he looked. It was an expression I’d never seen on the confident Eric’s face before, and it made me feel unaccountably sad.

“You know you’re a vampire, right?”

“Yes.” He seemed surprised that I asked. “And you are not.”

“No, I’m real human, and I have to know you won’t hurt me. Though you could have by now. But believe me, even if you don’t remember it, we’re sort of friends.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

I reminded myself that probably hundreds and thousands of people had heard those very words before Eric ripped their throats out. But the fact is, vampires don’t have to kill once they’re past their first year. A sip here, a sip there, that’s the norm. When he looked so lost, it was hard to remember he could dismember me with his bare hands.

I’d told Bill one time that the smart thing for aliens to do (when they invaded Earth) would be to arrive in the guise of lop-eared bunnies.

“Come get in my car before you freeze,” I said. I was having that I’m-getting-sucked-in feeling again, but I didn’t know what else to do.

“I do know you?” he said, as though he were hesitant about getting in a car with someone as formidable as a woman ten inches shorter, many pounds lighter, and a few centuries younger.

“Yes,” I said, not able to restrain an edge of impatience. I wasn’t too happy with myself, because I still half suspected I was being tricked for some unfathomable reason. “Now come on, Eric. I’m freezing, and so are you.” Not that vampires seemed to feel temperature extremes, as a rule; but even Eric’s skin looked goosey. The dead can freeze, of course. They’ll survive it—they survive almost everything—but I understand it’s pretty painful. “Oh my God, Eric, you’re barefoot.” I’d just noticed.

I took his hand; he let me get close enough for that. He let me lead him back to the car and stow him in the passenger seat. I told him to roll up the window as I went around to my side, and after a long minute of studying the mechanism, he did.

I reached in the backseat for an old afghan I keep there in the winter (for football games, etc.) and wrapped it around him. He wasn’t shivering, of course, because he was a vampire, but I just couldn’t stand to look at all that bare flesh in this temperature. I turned the heater on full blast (which, in my old car, isn’t saying much).

Eric’s exposed skin had never made me feel cold before—when I’d seen this much of Eric before, I’d felt anything but. I was giddy enough by now to laugh out loud before I could censor my own thoughts.

He was startled, and looked at me sideways.

“You’re the last person I expected to see,” I said. “Were you coming out this way to see Bill? Because he’s gone.”

“Bill?”

“The vampire who lives out here? My ex-boyfriend?”

He shook his head. He was back to being absolutely terrified.

“You don’t know how you came to be here?”

He shook his head again.

I was making a big effort to think hard; but