Dead Reckoning: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel

parts.
    “Sometimes,” she said, shrugging. “Since Thalia is so old, there’s a chance. It’s less painful and time-consuming than regeneration.”
    “Thalia, can I get you some blood?” I didn’t think I’d ever been brave enough to address Thalia directly, but I could sure bring her some bottled blood and be glad to do it. She looked up at me, her eyes full of involuntary tears. It was obvious she was forcing herself to hold still. “Not unless you want to donate yourself,” she said in her heavily accented English. “But Eric wouldn’t be pleased if I drank from you. Immanuel, give me a mouthful?”
    “All right,” he said. The skinny hairdresser looked more than a little dazed.
    “You sure?” I asked. “You don’t quite seem yourself.”
    “Hell, yes,” Immanuel said unconvincingly. “The guy who killed my sister is dead. I’m feeling good.”
    He didn’t look it, but I was sure I didn’t, either. I’d said as much as I could, so I sat by while Immanuel crouched awkwardly before Thalia’s chair. The height differential was not in their favor. Thalia wrapped her good arm around Immanuel’s neck and sank her fangs in without any further discussion. The expression on Immanuel’s face went from bleak to blissful.
    Thalia was a noisy eater.
    Indira squatted beside her in her blood-drenched sari, patiently holding the severed limb to its source. As Thalia drank, I noticed that the arm looked more and more natural. The fingers flexed. I was astonished, but it was only one more extreme event during an evening of them.
    Pam looked a little put out once her victory celebration with Eric was over and she saw that Immanuel was offering his blood to someone else. She asked Mustapha if he’d give her a drink, and he shrugged. “Comes with the job,” he said, pulling down the neck of his black T-shirt. Pam looked incredibly white against Mustapha, and Mustapha’s teeth bared in a grimace when she bit in. He, too, looked happier after a second.
    Eric came over to me, beaming. I had never been more undilutedly glad that our bond was broken, because I didn’t want to feel what he was feeling, even a little bit. He put his arms around me, kissed me with enthusiasm, and all I could smell was blood. He was wet with it. It was getting all over my dress and my arms and my chest.
    After a minute he drew back, frowning. “Sookie?” he said. “You’re not rejoicing?”
    I tried to think of what to say. I felt like a big fat hypocrite. “Eric, I’m glad we don’t have to worry about Victor anymore. And I know this was what we planned. But surrounded by dead people and body parts is not my idea of a good place for a celebration, and I’ve never been less horny in my life.”
    His eyes narrowed. He didn’t like my raining on his parade. Understandable.
    And that was the thing, wasn’t it? I found all of this understandable . But I still hated it, hated myself, wasn’t too fond of anyone else. “You need some blood,” I said. “I really am sorry you were wounded, and you go ahead and take some.”
    “You are being a hypocrite, and I will take blood,” he said, and he struck.
    It hurt. He didn’t make it feel good, an action almost automatic for a vampire. Tears ran down my face without my wanting them to. In an odd way, I felt the pain was merited, justified—but I also understood this was a turning point in our relationship.
    Our relationship had been marked by a thousand turning points, seemed like.
    Then Bill stood at my shoulder, staring at Eric’s mouth on my throat. His expression was complex: rage, resentment, longing.
    I was ready for something simple, and I was ready for the pain to stop. My eyes met Bill’s.
    “Sheriff,” Bill said. His voice had never been smoother. Eric twitched, and I knew he’d heard Bill, knew Eric realized he should stop. But he didn’t.
    I shook myself free of the lethargy and self-loathing, grabbed hold of Eric’s earlobe, and pinched as hard as I could.
    He detached with a gasp. His mouth was bloody.
    “Bill’s gonna take me home,” I said. “We’ll talk tomorrow night. Maybe.”
    Eric bent down to kiss me, but I flinched. Not with that bloody mouth.
    “Tomorrow,” Eric said, his eyes searching my face. He turned away and called, “Listen up, people! We have to start cleaning the club.”
    They groaned like kids told to pick up their toys. Immanuel went to Colton and helped him up. “You can stay at my place,” Immanuel said. “It’s