Dead Until Dark (Sookie Stackhouse #1)(93)

“Turn to the light, darling,” Bill said, his voice very light and casual.

I’be been sleeping with my back to the light the nurse had left on, the one in the bathroom. Now I rolled obediently to my back and looked up at my vampire.

Bill hissed.

“I’ll kill him,” he said, with a simple certainty that chilled me to the bone.

There was enough tension in the room to send a fleet of the nervous running for their tranquilizers.

“Hi, Bill,” I croaked. “Glad to see you, too. Where you been so long? Thanks for returning all my calls.”

That brought him up short. He blinked. I could feel him making an effort to calm himself.

“Sookie,” he said. “I didn’t call because I wanted to tell you in person what has happened.” I couldn’t read the expression on his face. If I’d had to take a shot, I would’ve said he looked proud of himself.

He paused, scanned all visible portions of me.

“This doesn’t hurt,” I croaked obligingly, extending my hand to him. He kissed that, lingered over it in a way that sent a faint tingle through my body. Believe me, a faint tingle was more than I’d thought I was capable of.

“Tell me what has been done to you,” he commanded.

“Then lean down so I can whisper. This really hurts.”

He pulled a chair close to the bed, lowered the bed rail, and lay his chin on his folded arms. His face was maybe four inches from mine.

“Your nose is broken,” he observed.

I rolled my eyes. “Glad you spotted that,” I whispered. “I’ll tell the doctor when she comes in.”

His gaze narrowed. “Stop trying to deflect me.”

“Okay. Nose broken, two ribs, a collarbone.”

But Bill wanted to examine me all over, and he pulled the sheet down. My mortification was complete. Of course, I was wearing an awful hospital gown, in itself a downer, and I hadn’t bathed properly, and my face was several different shades, and my hair hadn’t been brushed.

“I want to take you home,” he announced, after he’d run his hands all over and minutely examined each scrape and cut. The Vampire Physician.

I motioned with my hand to make him bend down. “No,” I breathed. I pointed to the drip bag. He eyed it with some suspicion, but of course he had to know what one was.

“I can take it out,” he said.

I shook my head vehemently.

“You don’t want me to take care of you?”

I puffed out my breath in exasperation, which hurt like hell.

I made a writing motion with my hand, and Bill searched the drawers until he found a notepad. Oddly enough, he had a pen. I wrote, “They’ll let me out of the hospital tomorrow if my fever doesn’t go high.”

“Who’ll take you home?” he asked. He was standing by the bed again, and looking down at me with stern disapproval, like a teacher whose best pupil happens to be chronically tardy.

“I’ll get them to call Jason, or Charlsie Tooten,” I wrote. If things had been different, I would have written Arlene’s name automatically.

“I’ll be there at dark,” he said.

I looked up into his pale face, the clear whites of his eyes almost shining in the gloomy room.

“I’ll heal you,” he offered. “Let me give you some blood.”

I remembered the way my hair had lightened, remembered that I was almost twice as strong as I’d ever been. I shook my head.

“Why not?” he said, as if he’d offered me a drink of water when I was thirsty and I’d said no. I thought maybe I’d hurt his feelings.

I took his hand and guided it to my mouth. I kissed the palm gently. I held the hand to my better cheek.

“People notice I am changing,” I wrote, after a moment. “I notice I am changing.”

He bowed his head for a moment, and then looked at me sadly.

“You know what happened?” I wrote.

“Bubba told me part of it,” he said, and his face grew scary as he mentioned the half-witted vampire. “Sam told me the rest, and I went to the police department and read the police reports.”

“Andy let you do that?” I scribbled.

“No one knew I was there,” he said carelessly.

I tried to imagine that, and it gave me the creeps.

I gave him a disapproving look.

“Tell me what happened in New Orleans,” I wrote. I was beginning to feel sleepy again.

“You will have to know a little about us,” he said hesitantly.

“Woo woo, secret vampire stuff!!” I croaked.

It was his turn to give me disapproving.

“We’re a little organized,” he told me. “I was trying to think of ways to keep us safe from Eric.” Involuntarily, I looked at the red flower arrangement.

“I knew if I were an official, like Eric, it would be much more difficult for him to interfere with my private life.”

I looked encouraging, or at least I tried to.

“So I attended the regional meeting, and though I have never been involved in our politics, I ran for an office. And, through some concentrated lobbying, I won!”

This was absolutely amazing. Bill was a union rep? I wondered about the concentrated lobbying, too. Did that mean Bill had killed all the opposition? Or that he’d bought the voters a bottle of A positive apiece?