13 - Sookie Stackhouse and Eric Northman Look to the Future - Part Two

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Chapter Thirteen

I slowly punched in the numbers, asking myself if this was a good idea.

I answered myself.

Yes.

I had forced down that third bag of donor blood just to be extra sure I wasn't tempted by all the warm bloods out there.

Warm bloods?

Where did that come from?

I had never referred to humans as Warm Bloods before. Of course I hadn't realized how hot and wonderful human blood was. Still, I frowned at the thought. Was I developing Vampire Brains?

I would need to stay vigilant and not dehumanize people. No nicknames for them like Blood Bags, Warm Bloods, Breathers, Sun Bunnies, Pulse Ponies. I would think of them as people and treat them accordingly.

I brushed my teeth and got ready to leave. I had wanted to look as cute and non-threatening as possible. When I exited our apartment I was wearing a ruffled rose pink silk blouse, designer navy blue slacks and low dark blue heels. A navy blue jacket topped it off. Dressy, but not overly so.

I didn't need any light in the tunnel. The natural greenish yellowish light given off by the fizzing atoms that comprised everything was enough. When I got to the cement door at the end of the tunnel I realized that Eric had used a clicker thingy to open it, a clicker thingy I didn't have. I could probably force the door open using my new vampire strength but that would compromise our safety. Eric wouldn't have time to repair the heavy concrete door tonight. Defeated I went back to our apartment, punched in the numbers on the keypad and let myself back in.

Eric had multiple clickers for other things like the garage. He never had just one in case it went missing, a habit left over from the days when our three rambunctious daughters could be counted on to move everything and anything and not return it.

Maybe he had a spare clicker squirreled away here somewhere. I began to search over, under and in everything in the rooms. If I was Eric where would I hide the clicker?

I concentrated with all my might and saw my hand, no, not my hand, Eric's hand, placing the clicker in a sock and rolling it up. I saw him place the sock/clicker ball in his suitcase with several other pairs. Bingo!

This must be one of the features of our blood bond, my ability to access his memories. Sure enough I found the clicker in with his socks.

Clicker in hand I again went out into the tunnel and to the cement wall which opened smoothly and silently for me. I stepped into the garage and remembered not to inhale so I didn't barf up all the blood I had just eaten.

Quick as a flash I was out of the parking garage and into the perfectly wonderful glorious night air. My new senses automatically dialed back the otherwise chaotic and deafening sounds of the insects, traffic and hotel room conversations. I could hear each of them clearly if I wanted to, I preferred to keep them in the background. I went beyond the area of the light poles to the farthest edges of the lot where the employees parked in near darkness and lack of safety. No one was being attacked tonight.

The panorama of stars lit the sky like a billion brilliant shimmering candles. The blue loveliness of infinity glowed above me like a heavenly dome. Every molecule gave off its own particular magical kind of illumination. A sweet faint sound of mystical music seemed to come from everywhere.

There was no darkness anywhere, no silence, no coldness, no stillness, no death. I was truly one of the Undead. I spun around, my arms open, embracing all the beauty and joy the night brought to my quiet heart.

Thank you, Eric, I thought gratefully. Thank you for the gift of being able to see and experience all this.

I had smoothed on some moisturizer that gave me the appearance of a light tan. I looked a little orangey, not too bad if I stayed out of bright light. I retraced my steps and walked around the parking lot.

Taking little sips of air I could tell a lot about the owners of the different cars. The Ford truck owner had two rottweilers that rode in the cab with him, the Chrysler sedan owner wore Channel Number 5 perfume, took antacids and had some kind of a fungus infection. She liked pepperoni on her pizza.

Being vampire was kind of like being telepathic. I had the ability to know all kinds of minutia about people, yet why should I bother my head with it? Unless it affected my ability to protect myself or my loved ones it wasn't important to know who smoked pot, who washed their clothes in Woolite or who took cough syrup recreationally. My years as a telepath had satisfied my curiosity about people. There was a remarkable sameness in their seeming diversity.

I stopped checking out the cars and dashed into the mowed grassy area way behind the lot just to get away from the human smells. I wondered how Mr. Van was doing. The thought crossed my mind to go check up on him. I knew his home address.

No, I didn't want to stray that far from the hotel.

A sputtering neon light down the road caught my eye. I flashed over to it, a small dingy bar about half a mile from the hotel. The buzzing crackling bug-specked sign read "THE B R". Obviously there was a short somewhere in the wiring, a fire hazard I would think. The whole place looked like a fire trap, held together by force of habit.

The Bar, I supposed it had said. Not a very creative name. Since it was only an hour before closing the rutted gravel lot was mostly empty. I decided to go inside and see if I could pass for human. I did an inner check to see if I felt hungry. Not a bit. Maybe I should say 'not a bite'. I smiled to myself at my little joke then went in the bar.

Country music blasted my sensitive ears then my hearing adjusted and the music became background noise. Tammy Wynette's "Stand by Your Man" played from an old fashioned bubble trimmed jukebox that played real 45 rpm records. That was a blast from the past.

The usual expected line of baggy old men in baggy old clothes sat near the door and a few young men in similar work uniforms lined the wooden bar towards the back. It didn't look like this bar had been renovated since the early 1960's. Neither had most of the patrons.

At a small table way in back a big blowsy blond sat with a thin man missing all his teeth. He wore a leather vest without a shirt under it - a good look for Eric, a bad look for this guy with his sunken chest decorated with a few straggly grey hairs and a tattoo too old and faded to make out its design.

His lady friend glanced at me then went back to her conversation, something about the water table and her trailer. I took a sip of air. The smells - beer, body odor, blood, whiskey - just about knocked me over. Wouldn't do that again.

I tuned in telepathically and got mostly things like "Whoa! Holy Cow! Son of a Blankety Blank! Look at the hot blond. She must be lost."

Several of the older patrons were three sheets to the wind, their thoughts were practically unreadable. Bars were the same everywhere I guess.

The bartender, a small skinny sober man with protruding eyes and a pronounced Adam's apple looked at me and thought, "Uh oh, she looks like trouble."

No one, as far as I could tell, thought, "Look, there's a vampire!"

Good. I liked the idea of being able to pass as human.

"Can I do you for something?" the bartender asked me amiably, wiping down a clean spot on the bar. He had a high thready voice, hard to hear over the music. Of course with my vampire senses I heard him perfectly.

Tammy ended her song and Johnny Cash came on with "Ring of Fire". They must have stocked the jukebox with oldies but goodies back in the day.

"Yes please, I'll take a Lone Star," I asked demurely. I saw another patron drinking it.

"Glass or bottle?" he asked, holding the bottle with the opener hovering over the cap.

"For Chrysler's sake, Albert," a grizzled old timer growled, "She look like she'd drink from a bottle to you? Get her a glass."

"A glass would be fine," I agreed. It would be easier to pretend to sip from a glass.

"That'll be a buck fifty," Albert said, setting the glass on a coaster and the icy bottle next to it.

That was when I realized I didn't have a penny on me. I couldn't pay for the beer or leave a tip. Yikes. I would have blushed if I was still human.

"Gosh, I just realized, I came out without any money," I said to Albert. "Sorry about that."

The grizzled old timer said chivalrously, "Put it on my tab, Albert."

He patted the empty stool next to him. The pleather was repaired with a crisscross of smeared dirty duct tape. I was concerned it would mess up my good slacks yet I didn't want to insult the generous old timer by refusing his offer. I stood there undecided.

"Oh here we go," the boozy blonde said loudly to her toothless companion. "She must be trying to drum up a little business." She nodded knowingly.

The woman thought I was a hustler! The nerve of her! I felt a wave of irritation pass over me. I turned and glared at her. She pointedly ignored me.

I turned back to smile at the old timer and thank him when the woman jeered at me under her breath. "Whore."

Rage momentarily clouded my vision. My fangs snicked down all on their own.


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more to come .....(Greetings All! Glad to see you had a chance to stop by! It means more than I can say to know you visit when you can.

Z - I was so glad to hear from you, hope your recovery is speedy and you are here to share your wonderful wit and wisdom real soon. Bless all your hearts!)


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