Fangtasia. I’ve been myself,” Jason said. This was news to me, and I gave him a narrow-eyed glare. He shrugged and looked just a tad embarrassed. “So what’s gonna happen when someone tries to claim the reward? When they call the number on the poster?”
Chow decided to contribute more to the conversation. “Of course, the ‘close friend’ who answers will come right away to talk to the informant firsthand. If the caller can convince the ‘close friend’ that he saw Eric after the whore witch worked her spell on him, the witches will begin looking in a specific area. They’re sure to find him. They’ll try to contact the local witches, too, get them working on it.”
“No witches in Bon Temps,” Jason said, looking amazed that Chow would even suggest the idea. There my brother went again, making assumptions.
“Oh, I’ll bet there are,” I said. “Why not? Remember what I told you?” Though I’d been thinking of Weres and shifters when I’d warned him there were things in the world he wouldn’t want to see.
My poor brother was getting overloaded with information this evening. “Why not?” he repeated weakly. “Who would they be?”
“Some women, some men,” Pam said, dusting her hands together as if she were talking about some infectious pest. “They are like everyone else who has a secret life-most of them are quite pleasant, fairly harmless.” Though Pam didn’t sound too positive when she said that. “But the bad ones tend to contaminate the good.”
“However,” Chow said, staring thoughtfully at Pam, “this is such a backwater that there may well be very few witches in the area. Not all of them are in covens, and getting an unattached witch to cooperate will be very difficult for Hallow and her followers.”
“Why can’t the Shreveport witches just cast a spell to find Eric?” I asked.
“They can’t find anything of his to use to cast such a spell,” Pam said, and she sounded as if she knew what she was talking about. “They can’t get into his daytime resting place to find a hair or clothes that bear his scent. And there’s no one around who’s got Eric’s blood in her.”
Ah-oh. Eric and I looked at each other very briefly. There was me; and I was hoping devoutly that no one knew that but Eric.
“Besides,” Chow said, shifting from foot to foot, “in my opinion, since we are dead, such things would not work to cast a spell.”
Pam’s eyes latched on to Chow’s. They were exchanging ideas again, and I didn’t like it. Eric, the cause of all this message swapping, was looking back and forth between his two fellow vamps. Even to me he looked clueless.
Pam turned to me. “Eric should stay here, where he is. Moving him will expose him to more danger. With him out of the way and in safety, we can take countermeasures against the witches.”
“Going to the mattresses,” Jason muttered in my ear, still stuck on theGodfatherterminology.
Now that Pam had said it out loud, I could see clearly why I should have become concerned when Jason began emphasizing how impossible it was that anyone should associate Eric with me. No one would believe that a vampire of Eric’s power and importance would be parked with a human barmaid.
My amnesiac guest looked bewildered. I leaned forward, gave in briefly to my impulse to stroke his hair, and then I held my hands over his ears. He permitted this, even putting his own hands on top of mine. I was going to pretend he couldn’t hear what I was going to say.
“Listen, Chow, Pam. This is the worst idea of all time. I’ll tell you why.” I could hardly get the words out fast enough, emphatically enough. “How am I supposed to protect him? You know how this will end! I’ll get beaten up. Or maybe even killed.”
Pam and Chow looked at me with twin blank expressions. They might as well have said, “Your point being?”
“If my sister does this,” Jason said, disregarding me completely, “she deserves to get paid for
Chow decided to contribute more to the conversation. “Of course, the ‘close friend’ who answers will come right away to talk to the informant firsthand. If the caller can convince the ‘close friend’ that he saw Eric after the whore witch worked her spell on him, the witches will begin looking in a specific area. They’re sure to find him. They’ll try to contact the local witches, too, get them working on it.”
“No witches in Bon Temps,” Jason said, looking amazed that Chow would even suggest the idea. There my brother went again, making assumptions.
“Oh, I’ll bet there are,” I said. “Why not? Remember what I told you?” Though I’d been thinking of Weres and shifters when I’d warned him there were things in the world he wouldn’t want to see.
My poor brother was getting overloaded with information this evening. “Why not?” he repeated weakly. “Who would they be?”
“Some women, some men,” Pam said, dusting her hands together as if she were talking about some infectious pest. “They are like everyone else who has a secret life-most of them are quite pleasant, fairly harmless.” Though Pam didn’t sound too positive when she said that. “But the bad ones tend to contaminate the good.”
“However,” Chow said, staring thoughtfully at Pam, “this is such a backwater that there may well be very few witches in the area. Not all of them are in covens, and getting an unattached witch to cooperate will be very difficult for Hallow and her followers.”
“Why can’t the Shreveport witches just cast a spell to find Eric?” I asked.
“They can’t find anything of his to use to cast such a spell,” Pam said, and she sounded as if she knew what she was talking about. “They can’t get into his daytime resting place to find a hair or clothes that bear his scent. And there’s no one around who’s got Eric’s blood in her.”
Ah-oh. Eric and I looked at each other very briefly. There was me; and I was hoping devoutly that no one knew that but Eric.
“Besides,” Chow said, shifting from foot to foot, “in my opinion, since we are dead, such things would not work to cast a spell.”
Pam’s eyes latched on to Chow’s. They were exchanging ideas again, and I didn’t like it. Eric, the cause of all this message swapping, was looking back and forth between his two fellow vamps. Even to me he looked clueless.
Pam turned to me. “Eric should stay here, where he is. Moving him will expose him to more danger. With him out of the way and in safety, we can take countermeasures against the witches.”
“Going to the mattresses,” Jason muttered in my ear, still stuck on theGodfatherterminology.
Now that Pam had said it out loud, I could see clearly why I should have become concerned when Jason began emphasizing how impossible it was that anyone should associate Eric with me. No one would believe that a vampire of Eric’s power and importance would be parked with a human barmaid.
My amnesiac guest looked bewildered. I leaned forward, gave in briefly to my impulse to stroke his hair, and then I held my hands over his ears. He permitted this, even putting his own hands on top of mine. I was going to pretend he couldn’t hear what I was going to say.
“Listen, Chow, Pam. This is the worst idea of all time. I’ll tell you why.” I could hardly get the words out fast enough, emphatically enough. “How am I supposed to protect him? You know how this will end! I’ll get beaten up. Or maybe even killed.”
Pam and Chow looked at me with twin blank expressions. They might as well have said, “Your point being?”
“If my sister does this,” Jason said, disregarding me completely, “she deserves to get paid for
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