dead until dark | Page 7

million pillows
padding her skinny shoulders. She was wearing a long-sleeved cotton nightgown even in the warmth of
this spring night, and her bedside lamp was still on. There was a book propped in her lap.
"Hey," I said.
"Hi, honey."
My grandmother is very small and very old, but her hair is still thick, and so white it almost has the very
faintest of green tinges. She wears it kind of rolled against her neck during the day, but at night it's loose
or braided. I looked at the cover of her book.
"You reading Danielle Steele again?"
"Oh, that woman can sure tell a story." My grandmother's great pleasures were reading Danielle Steele,
watching her soap operas (which she called her "stories") and attending meetings of the myriad clubs
she'd belonged to all her adult life, it seemed. Her favorites were the Descendants of the Glorious Dead
and the Bon Temps Gardening Society.
"Guess what happened tonight?" I asked her.
"What? You got a date?"
"No," I said, working to keep a smile on my face. "A vampire came into the bar."
"Ooh, did he have fangs?"
I'd seen them glisten in the parking lot lights when the Rats were draining him, but there was no need to
describe that to Gran. "Sure, but they were retracted."
"A vampire right here in Bon Temps." Granny was as pleased as punch. "Did he bite anybody in the
bar?"
"Oh, no, Gran! He just sat and had a glass of red wine. Well, he ordered it, but he didn't drink it. I think
he just wanted some company."
"Wonder where he stays."
"He wouldn't be too likely to tell anyone that."
"No," Gran said, thinking about it a moment. "I guess not. Did you like him?"
Now that was kind of a hard question. I mulled it over. "I don't know. He was real interesting," I said
cautiously.

"I'd surely love to meet him." I wasn't surprised Gran said this because she enjoyed new things almost as
much as I did. She wasn't one of those reactionaries who'd decided vam­pires were damned right off the
bat. "But I better go to sleep now. I was just waiting for you to come home before I turned out my light."
I bent over to give Gran a kiss, and said, "Night night."
I half-closed her door on my way out and heard the click of the lamp as she turned it off. My cat, Tina,
came from wherever she'd been sleeping to rub against my legs, and I picked her up and cuddled her for
a while before putting her out for the night. I glanced at the clock. It was almost two o'clock, and my bed
was calling me.
My room was right across the hall from Gran's. When I first used this room, after my folks had died,
Gran had moved my bedroom furniture from their house so I'd feel more homey. And here it was still, the
single bed and vanity in white-painted wood, the small chest of drawers.
I turned on my own light and shut the door and began taking off my clothes. I had at least five pair of
black shorts and many, many white T-shirts, since those tended to getstained so easily. No telling how
many pairs of white socks were rolled up in my drawer. So I didn't have to do the wash tonight. I was
too tired for a shower. I did brush my teeth and wash the makeup off my face, slap on some moisturizer,
and take the band out of my hair.
I crawled into bed in my favorite Mickey Mouse sleep T-shirt, which came almost to my knees. I turned
on my side, like I always do, and I relished the silence of the room. Al­most everyone's brain is turned off
in the wee hours of the night, and the vibrations are gone, the intrusions do not have to be repelled. With
such peace, I only had time to think of the vampire's dark eyes, and then I fell into the deep sleep of
exhaustion.
 
 
BYLUNCHTIME THE next day I was in my folding alu­minum chaise out in the front yard, getting
browner by the second. I was in my favorite white strapless two-piece, and it was a little roomier than
last summer, so I was pleased as punch.
Then I heard a vehicle coming down the drive, and Jason's black truck with its pink and aqua blazons
pulled up to within a yard of my feet.
Jason climbed down—did I mention the truck sports those high tires?—to stalk toward me. He was
wearing his usual work clothes, a khaki shirt and pants, and he had his sheathed knife clipped to his belt,
like most of the county road workers did. Just by the way he walked, I knew he was in a huff.
I put my dark glasses on.
"Why didn't you tell me you beat up the Rattrays