Dead Until Dark (Sookie Stackhouse #1)(76)

A handsome vampire with thick black hair combed into an improbable wavy style strolled up out of the woods as Arlene was bundling the kids into the truck, and Rene and Bill were chatting. Bill waved a casual hand at the vampire, and he raised one in return, joining Bill and Rene as if he’d been expected.

From the front porch swing, I watched Bill introduce the two, and the vampire and Rene shook hands. Rene was gaping at the newcomer, and I could tell he felt he’d recognized him. Bill looked meaningfully at Rene and shook his head, and Rene’s mouth closed on whatever comment he’d been going to make.

The newcomer was husky, taller than Bill, and he wore old jeans and an “I Visited Graceland” T-shirt. His heavy boots were worn at the heel. He carried a squirt bottle of synthetic blood in one hand and took a swig from time to time. Mr. Social Skills.

Maybe I’d been cued by Rene’s reaction, but the more I looked at the vampire, the more familiar he seemed. I tried mentally warming up the skin tone, adding a few lines, making him stand straighter and investing his face with some liveliness.

Oh my God.

It was the man from Memphis.

Rene turned to go, and Bill began steering the newcomer up to me. From ten feet away, the vampire called, “Hey, Bill tells me someone killed your cat!” He had a heavy Southern accent.

Bill closed his eyes for a second, and I just nodded speechlessly.

“Well, I’m sorry about that. I like cats,” the tall vampire said, and I clearly got the idea he didn’t mean he liked to stroke their fur. I hoped the kids weren’t picking up on that, but Arlene’s horrified face appeared in the truck window. All the good will Bill had established had probably just gone down the drain.

Rene shook his head behind the vampire’s back and climbed into the driver’s seat, calling a good-bye as he started up the engine. He stuck his head out the window for a long last look at the newcomer. He must have said something to Arlene because she appeared at her window again, staring for all she was worth. I saw her mouth drop open in shock as she looked harder at the creature standing beside Bill. Her head disappeared into the truck, and I heard a screech as the truck pulled away.

“Sookie,” Bill said warningly, “this is Bubba.”

“Bubba,” I repeated, not quite trusting my ears.

“Yep, Bubba,” the vampire said cheerfully, goodwill radiating from his fearsome smile. “That’s me. Pleased to meetcha.”

I shook hands with him, making myself smile back. Good God Almighty, I never thought I’d be shaking hands with him. But he’d sure changed for the worse.

“Bubba, would you mind waiting here on the porch? Let me explain our arrangement to Sookie.”

“That’s all right with me,” Bubba said casually. He settled on the swing, as happy and brainless as a clam.

We went into the living room, but not before I’d noticed that when Bubba had made his appearance, much of the night noise—bugs, frogs—had simply stopped. “I had hoped to explain this to you before Bubba got here,” Bill whispered. “But I couldn’t.”

I said, “Is that who I think it is?”

“Yes. So now you know at least some of the sighting stories are true. But don’t call him by his name. Call him Bubba! Something went wrong when he came over—from human to vampire—maybe it was all the chemicals in his blood.”

“But he was really dead, wasn’t he?”

“Not . . . quite. One of us was a morgue attendant and a big fan, and he could detect the tiny spark still left, so he brought him over, in a hurried manner.”

“Brought him over?”

“Made him vampire,” Bill explained. “But that was a mistake. He’s never been the same from what my friends tell me. He’s as smart as a tree trunk, so to make a living he does odd jobs for the rest of us. We can’t have him out in public, you can see that.”

I nodded, my mouth hanging open. Of course not. “Geez,” I murmured, stunned at the royalty in my yard.

“So remember how stupid he is, and how impulsive . . . don’t spend time alone with him, and don’t ever call him anything but Bubba. Also, he likes pets, as he told you, and a diet of their blood hasn’t made him any the more reliable. Now, as to why I brought him here . . .”

I stood with my arms across my chest, waiting for Bill’s explanation with some interest.

“Sweetheart, I have to go out of town for a while,” Bill said.

The unexpectedness of this completely disconcerted me.

“What . . . why? No, wait. I don’t need to know.” I waved my hands in front of me, shooing away any implication that Bill was obligated to tell me his business.

“I’ll tell you when I get back,” he said firmly.

“So where does your friend—Bubba—come in?” Though I had a nasty feeling I already knew.

“Bubba is going to watch you while I’m gone,” Bill said stiffly.

I raised my eyebrows.

“All right. He’s not long on . . .” Bill cast around. “. . . anything,” he finally admitted. “But he’s strong, and he’ll do what I tell him, and he’ll make sure no one breaks into your house.”

“He’ll stay out in the woods?”

“Oh, yes,” Bill said emphatically. “He’s not even supposed to come up and speak to you. At dark, he’ll just find a place from which he can see the house, and he’ll watch all night.”