Free Living Dead in Dallas by Charlaine Harris Page B

to stroll to the terminal.
    “Send the coffin to the address on the lid,” Bill called back over his shoulder. “The Silent Shore Hotel.” The Silent Shore was the only hotel in the Dallas area that had undergone the extensive renovation necessary to accommodate vampire patrons. It was one of the grand old downtown hotels, the brochure had said, not that I’d ever seen downtown Dallas or any of its grand old hotels before.
    We stopped in the stairwell of a grubby little flight leading up to the main passenger concourse. “Now, tell me,” he demanded. I glanced up at him while I related the odd little incident from start to finish. He was very white. I knew he must be hungry. His eyebrows looked black against the pallor of his skin, and his eyes looked an even darker brown than they really were.
    He help open a door and I passed through into the bustle and confusion of one of the biggest airports in the world.
    “You didn’t listen to him?” I could tell Bill didn’t mean with my ears.
    “I was still pretty heavily shielded from the plane,” I said. “And by the time I got concerned, began to try to read him, you came out of your coffin and he took off.I had the funniest feeling, before he ran . . .” I hesitated, knowing this was far-fetched.
    Bill just waited. He’s not one to waste words. He lets me finish what I’m saying. We stopped walking for a second, edged over to the wall.
    “I felt like he was there to kidnap me,” I said. “I know that sounds nuts. Who would know who I am, here in Dallas? Who would know to be meeting the plane? But that’s definitely the impression I got.” Bill took my warm hands in his cool ones.
    I looked up into Bill’s eyes. I’m not that short, and he’s not that tall, but I still have to look up at him. And it’s a little pride issue with me, that I can meet his eyes and not get glamoured. Sometimes I wish Bill could give me a different set of memories—for example, I wouldn’t mind forgetting about the maenad—but he can’t.
    Bill was thinking over what I’d said, filing it away for future reference. “So the flight itself was boring?” he asked.
    “Actually, it was pretty exciting,” I admitted. “After I made sure the Anubis people had stowed you on their plane, and I was boarded on mine, the woman showed us what to do when we crashed. I was sitting on the row with the emergency exit. She said to switch if we didn’t think we could handle that. But I think I could, don’t you? Handle an emergency? She brought me a drink and a magazine.” I seldom got waited on myself, being a barmaid by profession, you might say, so I really enjoyed being served.
    “I’m sure you can handle just about anything, Sookie. Were you frightened when the plane took off?”
    “No. I was just a little worried about this evening. Aside from that, it went fine.”
    “Sorry I couldn’t be with you,” he murmured, his cool and liquid voice flowing around me. He pressed me against his chest.
    “That’s okay,” I said into his shirt, mostly meaning it. “First time flying, you know, it’s kind of nerve-wracking. But it went all right. Until we landed.”
    I might grouse and I might moan, but I was truly glad Bill had risen in time to steer me through the airport. I was feeling more and more like the poor country cousin.
    We didn’t talk any more about the priest, but I knew Bill hadn’t forgotten. He walked me through collecting our luggage and finding transportation. He would’ve parked me somewhere and arranged it all, except, as he reminded me frequently, I’d have to do this on my own sometime, if our business demanded we land somewhere in full daylight.
    Despite the fact that the airport seemed incredibly crowded, full of people who all appeared heavily burdened and unhappy, I managed to follow the signs with a little nudge from Bill, after reinforcing my mental shields. It was bad enough, getting washed with the weary misery of the travelers, without