Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [891]
She had a touch of the poet in her, did Holly. And she was quite a visionary, in a doom-ridden way. I’d had no idea Holly was that deep, and I was again ashamed of myself. Mind readers shouldn’t be taken by surprise like that. I’d tried so hard to stay out of people’s minds that I was missing important cues.
“All of that, or none of that,” I said. “Maybe people will just accept it. Not in every country. I mean, when you think of what happened to the vampires in eastern Europe and some of South America . . .”
“The pope never sorted that one out,” Holly commented.
I nodded. “Kind of hard to know what to say, I guess.” Most churches had had (excuse me) a hell of a time deciding on a scriptural and theological policy toward the undead. The Were announcement would sure add another wrinkle to that. They were definitely alive, no doubt about it. . . . But they had almost too much life, as opposed to already having died once.
I shifted my feet. I hadn’t intended on standing out here and solving the world’s problems and speculating on the future. I was still tired from the night before. “I’ll see you, Holly. Maybe you and me and Amelia can go to the movies in Clarice some night?”
“Sure,” she said, a little surprised. “That Amelia, she doesn’t think much of my craft, but at least we can talk the talk a little.”
Too late, I had a conviction the threesome wouldn’t work out, but what the hell. We could give it a try.
I drove home wondering if anyone would be there waiting for me. The answer came when I parked beside Pam’s car at the back door. Pam drove a conservative car, of course, a Toyota with a Fangtasia bumper sticker. I was only surprised it wasn’t a minivan.
Pam and Amelia were watching a DVD in the living room. They were sitting on the couch but not exactly twined around each other. Bob was curled up in my recliner. There was a bowl of popcorn on Amelia’s lap and a bottle of TrueBlood in Pam’s hand. I stepped around so I could see what they were watching. Underworld. Hmmm.
“Kate Beckinsale is hot,” Amelia said. “Hey, how was work?”
“Okay,” I said. “Pam, how come you have two evenings off in a row?”
“I deserve it,” Pam said. “I haven’t had time off in two years. Eric agreed I was due. How do you think I would look in that black outfit?”
“Oh, as good as Beckinsale,” Amelia said, and turned her head to smile at Pam. They were at the ooey-gooey stage. Considering my own complete lack of ooey, I didn’t want to be around.
“Did Eric find out any more about that Jonathan guy?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you call him yourself?” Pam said with a complete lack of concern.
“Right, you’re off duty,” I muttered, and stomped back to my room, grumpy and a little ashamed of myself. I punched in the number for Fangtasia without even having to look it up. So not good. And it was on speed dial on my cell phone. Geez. Not something I wanted to ponder just at the moment.
The phone rang, and I put my dreary musing aside. You had to be on your game when you talked to Eric.
“Fangtasia, the bar with a bite. This is Lizbet.” One of the fangbangers. I scrounged around my mental closet, trying to put a face with the name. Okay—tall, very round and proud of it, moon face, gorgeous brown hair.
“Lizbet, this is Sookie Stackhouse,” I said.
“Oh, hi,” she said, sounding startled and impressed.
“Um . . . hi. Listen, could I speak to Eric, please?”
“I’ll see if the master is available,” Lizbet breathed, trying to sound reverent and all mysterious.
“Master,” my ass.
The fangbangers were men and women who loved vampires so much they wanted to be around them every minute the vampires were awake. Jobs at places like Fangtasia were bread and butter to these people, and the opportunity to get