Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [532]
“No, he didn’t,” I said with absolute clarity. “Let me think.” I mulled it over, feeling the terrible pressure of Tara’s eyes. “Who’s Mickey’s boss?” I asked. “Or his sire?”
“I think it’s a woman,” Tara said. “At least, Mickey’s taken me to a place in Baton Rouge a couple of times, a casino, where he’s met with a female vamp. Her name is Salome.”
“Like in the Bible?”
“Yeah. Imagine naming your kid that.”
“So, is this Salome a sheriff?”
“What?”
“Is she a regional boss?”
“I don’t know. Mickey and Franklin never talked about that stuff.”
I tried not to look as exasperated as I felt. “What’s the name of the casino?”
“Seven Veils.”
Hmmm. “Okay, did he treat her with deference?” That was a good Word of the Day entry from my calendar, which I hadn’t seen since the fire.
“Well, he kind of bowed to her.”
“Just his head, or from the waist?”
“From the waist. Well, more than the head. I mean, he bent over.”
“Okay. What did he call her?”
“Mistress.”
“Okay.” I hesitated, and then asked again, “You’re sure we can’t kill him?”
“Maybe you can,” she said morosely. “I stood over him with an ice pick for fifteen minutes one night when he went to sleep after, you know, sex. But I was too scared. If he finds out I’ve been here to see you, he’ll get mad. He doesn’t like you at all. He thinks you’re a bad influence.”
“He got that right,” I said with a confidence I was far from feeling. “Let me see what I can think of.”
Tara left after another hug. She even managed a little smile, but I didn’t know how justified her flash of optimism might be.
There was only one thing I could do.
The next night I’d be working. It was full dark by now, and he’d be up.
I had to call Eric.
13
“FANGTASIA,” SAID A BORED FEMININE VOICE. “Where all your bloody dreams come true.”
“Pam, it’s Sookie.”
“Oh, hello,” she said more cheerfully. “I hear you’re in even more trouble. Got your house burned. You won’t live much longer if you keep that up.”
“No, maybe not,” I agreed. “Listen, is Eric there?”
“Yes, he’s in his office.”
“Can you transfer me to him?”
“I don’t know how,” she said disdainfully.
“Could you take the phone to him, please, ma’am?”
“Of course. Something always happens around here after you call. It’s quite the break in routine.” Pam was carrying the phone through the bar; I could tell by the change in the ambient noise. There was music in the background. KDED again: “The Night Has a Thousand Eyes” this time. “What’s happening in Bon Temps, Sookie?” Pam asked, saying in a clear aside to some bar patron, “Step aside, you son of a misbegotten whore!
“They like that kind of talk,” she said to me conversationally. “Now, what’s up?”
“I got shot.”
“Oh, too bad,” she said. “Eric, do you know what Sookie is telling me? Someone shot her.”
“Don’t get so emotional, Pam,” I said. “Someone might think you care.”
She laughed. “Here is the man,” she said.
Sounding just as matter-of-fact as Pam had, Eric said, “It can’t be critical or you wouldn’t be talking to me.”
This was true, though I would have enjoyed a more horrified reaction. But this was no time to think of little issues. I took a deep breath. I knew, sure as shooting, what was coming, but I had to help Tara. “Eric,” I said with a feeling of doom, “I need a favor.”
“Really?” he said. Then, after a notable pause, “Really?”
He began to laugh.
“Gotcha,” he said.
He arrived at the duplex an hour later and paused on the doorsill after I’d responded to his knock. “New building,” he reminded me.
“You are welcome to come in,” I said insincerely, and he stepped in, his white face practically blazing with—triumph? Excitement? Eric’s hair was wet with rain and straggled over his shoulders in rattails. He was wearing a golden brown silk T-shirt and brown pleated trousers with a magnificent belt that was just barbaric: lots of leather, and gold, and dangling tassels. You can take the man out of the Viking era, but you can’t take the Viking out of the man.
“Can I get you a drink?” I said. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any TrueBlood, and I’m not supposed to drive,