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that happen?"
He hadn't expected that. He looked at me. I could feel his eyes on me even though we were now in the
dark. The woods were close around us. Our feet crunched on the gravel.
"As to how I became a vampire, that's too long a story for now," he said. "But yes, when I was
younger a few times I killed by accident. I was never sure when I'd get to eat again, you understand?
We were always hunted, naturally, and there was no such thing as artificial blood. And there were not as
many people then. But I had been a good man when I was alive I mean, before I caught the virus. So I
tried to be civilized about it, select bad people as my victims, never feed on children. I managed never to
kill a child, at least. It's so different now. I can go to the all-night clinic in any city and get some synthetic
blood, though it's disgusting. Or I can pay a whore and get enough blood to keep going for a couple of
days. Or I can glamor someone, so they'll let me bite them for love and then forget all about it. And I
don't need so much now."
"Or you can meet a girl who gets head injuries," I said.
"Oh, you were the dessert. The Rattrays were the meal."
Deal with it.
"Whoa," I said, feeling breathless. "Give me a minute."
And he did. Not one man in a million would have allowed me that time without speaking. I opened my
mind, let my guards down completely, relaxed. His silence washed over me. I stood, closed my eyes,
breathed out the relief that was too profound for words.
"Are you happy now?" he asked, just as if he could tell.
"Yes," I breathed. At that moment I felt that no matter what this creature beside me had done, this peace
was priceless after a lifetime of the yammering of other minds inside my own.
"You feel good to me, too," he said, surprising me.
"How so?" I asked, dreamy and slow.
"No fear, no hurry, no condemnation. I don't have to use my glamor to make you hold still, to have a
conversation with you."
"Glamor?"
"Like hypnotism," he explained. "All vampires use it, to some extent or another. Because to feed, until
the new synthetic blood was developed, we had to persuade people we were harmless ... or assure them
they hadn't seen us at all ... or delude them into thinking they'd seen something else."
"Does it work on me?"
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"Of course," he said, sounding shocked.
"Okay, do it."
"Look at me."
"It's dark."
"No matter. Look at my face." And he stepped in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders,
and looked down at me. I could see the faint shine of his skin and eyes, and I peered up at him,
wondering if I'd begin to squawk like a chicken or take my clothes off.
But what happened was ... nothing. I felt only the nearly druglike relaxation of being with him.
"Can you feel my influence?" he asked. He sounded a little breathless.
"Not a bit, I'm sorry," I said humbly. "I just see you glow."
"You can see that?" I'd surprised him again.
"Sure. Can't everyone?"
"No. This is strange, Sookie."
"If you say so. Can I see you levitate?"
"Right here?" Bill sounded amused.
"Sure, why not? Unless there's a reason?"
"No, none at all." And he let go of my arms and began to rise.
I breathed a sigh of pure rapture. He floated up in the dark, gleaming like white marble in the moonlight.
When he was about two feet off the ground, he began hovering. I thought he was smiling down at me.
"Can all of you do that?" I asked.
"Can you sing?"
"Nope, can't carry a tune."
"Well, we can't all do the same things, either." Bill came down slowly and landed on the ground without
a thump. "Most humans are squeamish about vampires. You don't seem to be," he commented.
I shrugged. Who was I to be squeamish about something out of the ordinary? He seemed to understand
because, after a pause, during which we'd resumed walking, Bill said, "Has it always been hard for you?"
"Yes, always." I couldn't say otherwise, though I didn't want to whine. "When I was very small, that was
worst, because I didn't know how to put up my guard, and I heard thoughts I wasn't supposed to hear,
of course, and I repeated them like a child will. My parents didn't know what to do about me. It
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embarrassed my father, in particular. My mother finally took me to a child psychologist, who knew
exactly what I was, but she just couldn't accept it and kept trying to tell my folks I was reading their body
language and was very observant, so I had good reason to imagine I heard people's thoughts. Of course,
she couldn't admit I was literally hearing people's thoughts because that just didn't fit into her world.
"And I did poorly in school because it was so hard for me to concentrate when so few others were. But [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]