Dead to the World 4 by Charlaine Harris

Author:Charlaine Harris [Harris, Charlaine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The woman coming in was tall and so slim and broad-shouldered that I checked her chest, just to be sure I'd

registered her gender correctly. Her hair was short and thick and brown, and she was wearing absolutely no

makeup. There was a man with her, but I didn't see him until she stepped to one side. He was no slouch in the

size department himself, and his tight T-shirt revealed arms more developed than any I'd ever seen. Hours in

the gym; no, years in the gym. His chestnut hair trailed down to his shoulders in tight curls, and his beard and

mustache were perceptibly redder. Neither of the two wore coats, though it was definitely coat weather. The

newcomers walked over to me.

"Where's the owner?" the woman asked.

"Sam. He's behind the bar," I said, looking down as soon as I could and wiping the table all over again. The man had looked at me curiously; that was normal. As they brushed past me, I saw that he carried some posters

under his arm and a staple gun. He'd stuck his hand through a roll of masking tape, so it bounced on his left

wrist.

I glanced over at Holly. She'd frozen, the cup of coffee in her hand halfway down on its way to Sid Matt

Lancaster's placemat. The old lawyer looked up at her, followed her stare to the couple making their way

between the tables to the bar. Merlotte's, which had been on the quiet and peaceful side, was suddenly awash in

tension. Holly set down the cup without burning Mr. Lancaster and spun on her heel, going through the

swinging door to the kitchen at warp speed.

I didn't need any more confirmation on the identity of the woman.

The two reached Sam and began a low-voiced conversation with him, with Andy listening in just because he

was in the vicinity. I passed by on my way to take the dirty dishes to the hatch, and I heard the woman say (in a deep, alto voice) "… put up these posters in town, just in case anyone spots him."

This was Hallow, the witch whose pursuit of Eric had caused such an upset. She, or a member of her coven,

was probably the murderer of Adabelle Yancy. This was the woman who might have taken my brother, Jason.

My head began pounding as if there were a little demon inside trying to break out with a hammer.

No wonder Holly was in such a state and didn't want Hallow to glimpse her. She'd been to Hallow's little

meeting in Shreveport, and her coven had rejected Hallow's invitation.

"Of course," Sam said. "Put up one on this wall." He indicated a blank spot by the door that led back to the bathrooms and his office.

Holly stuck her head out the kitchen door, glimpsed Hallow, ducked back in. Hallow's eyes flicked over to the

door, but not in time to glimpse Holly, I hoped.

I thought of jumping Hallow, beating on her until she told me what I wanted to know about my brother. That

was what the pounding in my head was urging me to do—initiate action, any action.

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