"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 ofbeer was empty, I realized that the anger level in the bar had escalated, that the men were really serious about doing something.
I began to be more than anxious.
As the evening wore on, the activity in the bar grew more and more frenetic. Less women, more men. More table-hopping. More drinking. Men were standing, instead of sitting. It was hard to pin down, since there wasn't any big meeting, really. It was by word-of-mouth, whispered from ear to ear. No one jumped on the bar and screamed, "Whatta ya say, boys? Are we gonna put up with those monsters in our midst? To the castle!" or anything like that. It was just that, after a time, they all began drifting out, standing in huddled groups out in the parking lot. I looked out one of the windows at them, shaking my head. This wasn't good.
Sam was uneasy, too.
"What do you think?" I asked him, and I realized this was the first time I'd spoken to him all evening, other than "Pass the pitcher," or "Give me another margarita."
"I think we've got a mob," he said. "But they'll hardly go over to Monroe now. The vampires'll be up and about until dawn."
"Where is their house, Sam?"
"I understand it's on the outskirts of Monroe on the west side—in other words, closest to us," he told me. "I don't know for sure."
I drove home after closing, half hoping I'd see Bill lurking in my driveway so I could tell him what was afoot.
But I didn't see him, and I wouldn't go to his house. After a long hesitation, I dialed his number, but got only his answering machine. I left a message. I had no idea what the three nesting vampires' phone was listed under, if they had a phone at all.
As I pulled off my shoes and removed my jewelry—all silver, take that, Bill!—I remember worrying, but I wasn't worrying enough. I went to bed and quickly to sleep in the bedroom that was now mine. The moonlight streamed in the open shades, making strange shadows on the floor. But I only stared at them for a few minutes. Bill didn't wake me that night, returning my call.
BUT THE PHONE did ring, early in the morning, after daylight.
"What?" I asked, dazed, the receiver pressed to my ear. I peered at the clock. It was seven-thirty.
"They burned the vampires' house," Jason said. "I hope yours wasn't in it."
"What?" I asked again, but my voice was panicked now.
"They burned the vampires' house outside of Monroe. After sunrise. It's on Callista Street, west of Archer."
I remembered Bill saying he might take Harlen over there. Had he stayed?
"No." I said it definitely.
"Yes."
"I have to go," I said, hanging up the phone.
it Smoldered IN the bright sunlight. Wisps of smoke trailed up into the blue sky. Charred wood looked like alligator skin. Fire trucks and law enforcement cars were parked helter-skelter on the lawn of the two-story house. A group of the curious stood behind yellow tape.
The remains of four coffins sat side by side on the scorched grass. There was a body bag, too. I began to walk toward them, but for the longest time they seemed to be no closer; it was like one of those dreams where you can never reach your goal.
Someone grabbed my arm and tried to stop me. I can't remember what I said, but I remember a horrified face. I trudged on through the debris, inhaling the smell of burned things, wet charred things, a smell that wouldn't leave me the rest of my life.
I reached the first coffin and looked in. What was left of the lid was open to the light. The sun was coming up; any moment now it would kiss the dreadful thing resting on soggy, white silk lining.
Was it Bill? There was no way to tell. The corpse was disintegrating bit by bit even as I watched. Tiny fragments flaked off and blew into the breeze, or disappeared in a tinypuff of smoke where the sun's rays began to touch the body.
Each coffin held a similar horror.
Sam was standing by me.
"Can you call this murder, Sam?"
He shook his head. "I just don't know, Sookie. Legally, killing the vampires is murder. But you'd have to prove arson first, though I don't think that'd be very hard." We could both smell gasoline. There were men buzzing around the house, climbing here and there, yelling to each other. It didn't appear to me that these men were conducting any serious crime-scene investigation.
"But this body here, Sookie." Sam pointed to the body bag on the grass. "This was a real human, and they have to investigate. I don't think any member of that mob ever realized there might be a human in there, ever considered anything besides what they did."
"So why are you here, Sam?"
"For you," he said simply.
"I won't know if it's Bill all day, Sam."
"Yes, I know."
"What am I supposed to do all day? How can I wait?"
"Maybe some drugs," he suggested. "What about sleeping pills or something?"
"I don't have anything like that," I said. "I've never had trouble sleeping."
This conversation was getting odder and odder, but I don't think I could have said anything else.
A big man was in front of me, the local law. He was sweating in the morning heat, and he looked like he'd been up for hours. Maybe he'd been on the night shift and had to stay on when the fire started.
When men I knew had started the fire.
"Did you know these people, miss?"
"Yes, I did. I'd met them."
"Can you identify the remains?"
"Who could identify that?" I asked incredulously.
The bodies were almost gone now, featureless and disintegrating.
He looked sick. "Yes, ma'am. But the person."
"I'll look," I said before I had time to think. The habit of being helpful was mighty hard to break.
As if he could tell I was about to change my mind, the big man knelt on the singed grass and unzipped the bag. The sooty face inside was that of a girl I'd never met. I thanked God.
"I don't know her," I said, and felt my knees give. Sam caught me before I was on the ground, and I had to lean against him.
"Poor girl," I whispered. "Sam, I don't know what to do." . The law took part of my time that day. They wanted to know everything I knew about the vampires who had owned the house, and I told them, but it didn't amount to much. Malcolm, Diane, Liam. Where they'd come from, their age, why they'd settled in Monroe, who their lawyers were; how would I know anything like that? I'd never even been to their house before.