I didn’t know what to do. The three were, if not exactly friends of Bill, at least sort of coreligionists. But I loathed Malcolm, Diane, and Liam just as much as anyone else. On the other hand; and boy—there always was another hand, wasn’t there?—it just went against my grain to know ahead of the fact about premeditated murders and just sit on my hands.
Maybe this was all liquor talking. Just to check, I dipped into the minds of the people around me. To my dismay, many of them were thinking about torching the vampire’s nest. But I couldn’t track down the origin of the idea. It felt as though the poison had flowed from one mind and infected others.
There wasn’t any proof, any proof at all, that Maudette and Dawn and my grandmother had been killed by a vampire. In fact, rumor had it that the coroner’s report might show evidence against that. But the three vampires were behaving in such a way that people wanted to blame them for something, wanted to get rid of them, and since Maudette and Dawn were both vampire-bitten and habitues of vampire bars, well, folks just cobbled that together to pound out a conviction.
Bill came in the seventh night I’d been alone. He appeared at his table quite suddenly. He wasn’t by himself. There was a boy with him, a boy who looked maybe fifteen. He was a vampire, too.
“Sookie, this is Harlen Ives from Minneapolis,” Bill said, as if this were an ordinary introduction.
“Harlen,” I said, and nodded. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Sookie.” He bobbed his head at me, too.
“Harlen is in transit from Minnesota to New Orleans,” Bill said, sounding positively chatty.
“I’m going on vacation,” Harlen said. “I’ve been wanting to visit New Orleans for years. It’s just a mecca for us, you know.”
“Oh . . . right,” I said, trying to sound matter of fact.
“There’s this number you can call,” Harlen informed me. “You can stay with an actual resident, or you can rent a . . .”
“Coffin?” I asked brightly.
“Well, yes.”
“How nice for you,” I said, smiling for all I was worth. “What can I get you? I believe Sam has restocked the blood, Bill, if you’d like some? It’s flavored A neg, or we’ve got the O positive.”
“Oh, A negative, I think,” Bill said, after he and Harlen had a silent communication.
“Coming right up!” I stomped back to the cooler behind the bar and pulled out two A neg’s, popped the tops, and carted them back on a tray. I smiled the whole time, just like I used to.
“Are you all right, Sookie?” Bill asked in a more natural voice after I’d plonked their drinks down in front of them.
“Of course, Bill,” I said cheerily. I wanted to break the bottle over Bill’s head. Harlen, indeed. Overnight stay. Right.
“Harlen would like to drive over to visit Malcolm, later,” Bill said, when I came to take the empties and ask if they wanted a refill.
“I’m sure Malcolm would love to meet Harlen,” I said, trying not to sound as bitchy as I felt.
“Oh, meeting Bill has just been super,” Harlen said, smiling at me, showing fangs. Harlen knew how to do bitch, all right. “But Malcolm is absolutely a legend.”
“Watch out,” I said to Bill. I wanted to tell him how much peril the three nesting vampires had put themselves into, but I didn’t think it’d come to a head just yet. And I didn’t want to spell it out because Harlen was sitting there, batting his baby blues at me and looking like a teen sex symbol. “Nobody’s too happy with those three, right now,” I added, after a moment. It was not an effectual warning.
Bill just looked at me, puzzled, and I spun on my heel and walked away.
I came to regret that moment, regret it bitterly.
AFTER BILL AND Harlen had left, the bar buzzed even harder with the kind of talk I’d heard from Rene and Mike Spencer. It seemed to me like someone had been lighting fire, keeping the anger level stoked up. But for the life of me I couldn’t discover who it was, though I did some random listening, both mental and physical. Jason came into the bar, and we said hello, but not much more. He hadn’t forgiven me for my reaction to Uncle Bartlett’s death.
He’d get over it. At least he wasn’t thinking about burning anything, except maybe creating some heat in Liz Barrett’s bed. Liz, even younger than me, had curly short brown hair and big brown eyes and an unexpectedly no-nonsense air about her that made me think Jason might have met his match. After I’d said good-bye to them after their pitcher of beer was empty, I realized that the anger level in the bar had escalated, that the men were really serious about doing something.