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Dead Until Dark
by
Charlaine Harris
My thanks and appreciation goes to the people who thought this book was a good idea—
Dean James, Toni L. P. Kelner and Gary and Susan Nowlin
CONTENTS
Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5
6 7 8 9 10
11 12
Chapter 1
I'd been waiting for the vampire for years when he walked into the bar.
Ever since vampires came out of the coffin (as they laughingly put it) four yearsago,
I'd hoped one would come to Bon Temps. We had all the other minorities in our little
town—why not the newest, the legally recognized undead? But rural northern Louisiana
wasn't too tempting to vampires, apparently; on the other hand, New Orleans was a real
center for them—the whole Anne Rice thing, right?
It's not that long a drive from Bon Temps to New Orleans, and everyone who came
intothe bar said that if you threw a rock on a street corner you'd hit one. Though you
better not.
But I was waiting for my own vampire.
You can tell I don't get out much. And it's not because I'm not pretty. I am. I'm blond
and blue-eyed and twenty-five, and my legs are strong and my bosom is substantial, and I
have a waspy waistline. I look good in the warm-weather waitress outfit Sam pickedfor
us: black shorts, white T, white socks, black Nikes.
But I have a disability. That's how I try to think of it.
The bar patrons just say I'm crazy.
Either way, the result is that I almost never have a date. So little treats count a lot with
me.
And he sat at one of my tables—the vampire.
I knew immediately what he was. It amazed me when no one else turned around to
stare. They couldn'ttell! But to me, his skin had a little glow, and I just knew.
I could have danced with joy, and in fact I did do a little step right there by the bar.
Sam Merlotte, my boss, looked up from the drink he was mixing and gave me a tiny
smile. I grabbed my tray and pad and went over to the vampire's table. I hoped that my
lipstick was still even and my ponytail was still neat. I'm kind of tense, andI could feel
my smile yanking the corners of my mouth up.
He seemed lost in thought, and I had a chance to give him a good once-over before he
looked up. He was a little under six feet, I estimated. He had thick brown hair, combed
straight back and brushing his collar, and his long sideburns seemed curiously oldfashioned.
He was pale, of course; hey, he was dead, if you believed the oldtales. The
politically correct theory, the one the vamps themselves publicly backed, had it that this
guy was the victim of a virus that left him apparently dead for a couple of days and
thereafter allergic to sunlight, silver, and garlic. The details depended on which
newspaper you read. They were all full of vampire stuff these days.
Anyway, his lips were lovely, sharply sculpted, and he hadarched dark brows. His
nose swooped down right out of that arch, like a prince's in a Byzantine mosaic. When he
finally looked up, I saw his eyes were even darker than his hair, and the whites were
incredibly white.
"What can I get you?" I asked, happy almost beyond words.
He raised his eyebrows. "Do you have the bottled synthetic blood?" he asked.
"No, I'm so sorry! Sam's got some on order.Should be in next week."
"Then red wine, please," he said, and his voice was cool and clear, like a stream over
smooth stones. I laughed out loud. It was too perfect.
"Don't mind, Sookie, mister, she's crazy," came a familiar voice from the booth against
the wall. All my happiness deflated, though I could feel the smile still straining my lips.
The vampire was staring at me, watching the lifego out of my face.
"I'll get your wine right away," I said, and strode off, not even looking at Mack
Rattray's smug face. He was there almost every night, he and his wife Denise. I called
them the Rat Couple. They'd done their best to make me miserable since they'd moved
into the rent trailer at Four Tracks Corner. I had hoped that they'd blow out of Bon Temps
as suddenly as they'd blown...