Dead to the World (Original MM Art) (Sookie StackhouseTrue Blood) by Charlaine Harris

Author:Charlaine Harris
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Cocktail servers, Waitresses, Fantasy - Dark, Women Sleuths, Horror fiction, Louisiana, Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, American Science Fiction And Fantasy, Horror, City and town life, Telepathy, Stackhouse, Fiction - Fantasy, Occult fiction, Fiction, Sookie (Fictitious character), Vampires, Mystery & Detective, Fantasy fiction, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Contemporary, General, Fantasy, Occult & Supernatural, Fantasy - Contemporary
ISBN: 9780441019342
Publisher: Ace Trade
Published: 2010-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

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I looked down at him, my face expressionless. Liar, I thought. After a second, Andy's eyes darted uneasily away from mine to light on the saltshaker, which seemed to have become peculiarly fascinating.

"Have you seen Bill lately?" Portia asked, patting her mouth with a napkin. She was trying to break the uneasy silence with a pleasant query, but I just got angrier.

"No," I said. "Can I get you all anything else?"

"No, thanks, we're just fine," she said quickly. I spun on my heel and walked away. Then my mouth puckered in a smile. Just as I was thinking, Bitch, Portia was thinking, What a bitch.

Her ass is hot,Andy chimed in. Gosh, telepathy. What a blast. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I envied people who only heard with their ears.

Kevin and Kenya came in, too, very carefully not drinking. Theirs was a partnership that had given the people of Bon Temps much hilarity. Lily white Kevin was thin and reedy, a long-distance runner; all the equipment he had to wear on his uniform belt seemed almost too much for him to carry. His partner, Kenya, was two inches taller, pounds heavier, and fifteen shades darker. The men at the bar had been putting bets down for two years on whether or not they'd become lovers—of course, the guys at the bar didn't put it as nicely as that.

I was unwillingly aware that Kenya (and her handcuffs and nightstick) featured in all too many patrons'

daydreams, and I also knew that the men who teased and derided Kevin the most mercilessly were the ones who had the most lurid fantasies. As I carried hamburger baskets over to Kevin and Kenya's table, I could tell that Kenya was wondering whether she should suggest to Bud Dearborn that he call in the tracking dogs from a neighboring parish in the search for Jason, while Kevin was worried about his mother's heart, which had been acting up more than usual lately.

"Sookie," Kevin said, after I'd brought them a bottle of ketchup, "I meant to tell you, some people came by the police department today putting out posters about a vampire."

"I saw one at the grocery," I said.

"I realize that just because you were dating a vampire, you aren't an expert," Kevin said carefully, because Kevin always did his best to be nice to me, "but I wondered if you'd seen this vamp. Before he disappeared, I mean."

Kenya was looking up at me, too, her dark eyes examining me with great interest. Kenya was thinking I always seemed to be on the fringes of bad things that happened in Bon Temps, without being bad myself (thanks, Kenya). She was hoping for my sake that Jason was alive. Kevin was thinking I'd always been nice to him and Kenya; and he was thinking he wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole. I sighed, I hoped imperceptibly. They were waiting for an answer. I hesitated, wondering what my best choice was.

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