Dead Reckoning(98)

That seemed like such a fabulous idea. I was delighted for all of thirty seconds. Then, of course, doubt set in. Was it right to change someone’s life that much simply because I could? On the other hand, was it right to let Hunter suffer his way through a difficult childhood?

I could change myself.

That was so shocking an idea that it almost made me black out. I simply couldn’t think about it just now. I had to prepare for Operation Victor.

After thirty minutes, I was ready to go.

I drove to Fangtasia, trying to keep my mind empty and my spirit fierce. (Emptying my mind was maybe too easy. I’d learned so much in the past few days that I hardly knew who I was anymore. And that made me pretty angry, so fierce was easy, too.) I sang along with every song on the radio, and because I have an awful voice I was glad I was alone. Pam can’t sing, either. I was thinking about her a lot as I drove, wondering if her Miriam was alive or dead, feeling sorry for my best vampire friend. Pam was so tough and so strong and so ruthless that I hadn’t ever considered her more delicate emotions until the past few days. Maybe that was why Eric had chosen Pam when he’d wanted a child; he’d sensed they were kindred spirits.

I didn’t doubt Eric loved me, just as I knew Pam loved her ailing Miriam. But I didn’t know if Eric loved me enough to defy all his maker’s arrangements, enough to forgo the leap in power and status and income he’d gain as consort of the Queen of Oklahoma. Would Eric enjoy being a Sooner? As I navigated through Shreveport, I wondered if Oklahoma vampires wore cowboy boots and knew all the songs from the musical. I wondered why I was thinking such idiotic thoughts when I should be preparing for a very grim evening, an evening I might not survive.

Judging from the parking lot, Fangtasia was jam-packed. I went to the employee entrance and knocked, using a special pattern. Maxwell opened the door, looking positively suave in a beautiful summer-weight tan suit. Dark-skinned vampires undergo an interesting change a few decades after they’re turned. If they were a very dark shade in life, they become a light brown, sort of a milk chocolate. Those who were lighter skinned become a sort of creamy ecru. Maxwell Lee hadn’t been dead long enough for that, though. He was still one of the darkest men I had ever seen, the color of ebony, and his mustache was as precise as if he’d shaved with a ruler at hand. We’d never been especially fond of each other, but this evening his smile was almost manic in its cheerfulness.

“Miss Stackhouse, we’re so glad you stopped by tonight,” he said loudly. “Eric will be pleased to see you looking so — so tasty.”

I take my compliments where I can get them, and “tasty” wasn’t bad. I was wearing a strapless dress in sky blue with a broad white belt and white sandals. (I know white shoes are supposed to make your feet look big, but mine aren’t, so I didn’t care.) My hair was down. I felt pretty damn good. I held out a foot so Maxwell could admire my self-administered pedicure. Spicy Pink Carnation.

“Fresh as a daisy,” Maxwell said. He pulled aside his jacket to show me that he was carrying a gun. I gave him big eyes of admiration. Carrying a firearm was not a vampire norm, and it might be a bit unexpected. Colton and Audrina came in on my heels. Audrina had put up her hair with what looked like chopsticks, and she was carrying a large purse, almost as large as mine. Colton was armed, too, because he was wearing a jacket, and on a sultry evening like this one, humans just didn’t wear jackets if they could help it. I introduced them to Maxwell, and after a polite exchange they sauntered down the hall to go out into the club.

I found Eric in his office sitting behind the desk. Pam was sitting on it, and Thalia was on the couch. Oh, boy! I felt more confident when I saw the tiny ancient Greek vampire. Thalia had been turned so long ago that no trace of humanity remained. She was simply a cold killing machine. She’d reluctantly joined the vampires that came out, but she despised humans with a thoroughness and ferocity that had made her a sort of cult figure. One website had offered five thousand dollars to the man or woman who could get a picture of Thalia smiling. No one had ever collected, but they could have tonight. She was smiling now. It was creepy as hell.

“He accepted the invitation,” Eric said without preamble. “He was uneasy, but he couldn’t resist. I told him he was welcome to bring as many of his own people as he wished so that they could share the experience.”

“That was the only way to do it,” I said.

“I think you’re right,” Pam said. “I think he’ll bring only a few, because he’ll want to show us how confident he is.”