By Charlaine Harris
Bon Temps’s psychic waitress takes a perilous highway journey within the 3rd novel within the no 1 New York Times bestselling Sookie Stackhouse series...
There’s just one vampire Sookie Stackhouse is concerned with (at least voluntarily) and it’s invoice Compton. yet lately he’s been a bit distant—in one other kingdom, far-off. Then his sinister and horny boss Eric Northman tells Sookie the place she may locate him. subsequent factor she is aware, she’s off to Jackson, Mississippi, to mingle with the under-underworld at membership useless, a perilous little hang-out the place the elite of vampire society can visit sit back and suck down a few Type-O. but if Sookie ultimately unearths Bill—caught in an act of significant betrayal—she’s uncertain even if to save lots of him...or sharpen a few stakes.
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Additional info for Club Dead (Sookie Stackhouse Southern Vampire Series #3)
Or at least I thought I was. Subsequent revelations would prove me wrong. I stomped inside my house and locked the door behind me. A lock wouldn't keep the vampire out, of course, but lack of an invitation to enter would. The vampire could definitely keep any humans out, at least until dawn. I put on my old long-sleeved blue nylon gown, and I sat at my kitchen table staring blankly at my hands. I wondered where Bill was now. Was he even walking the earth; or was he a pile of ashes in some barbecue pit?
I'd stayed here, with Gran, in this much-altered, much-renovated house; and she'd left it to me in her will. The living room had been the total original house. Other additions, like the modern kitchen and the bathrooms, were relatively new. The next floor, which was much smaller than the ground level, had been added in the early 1900s to accommodate a generation of children who all survived. I rarely went up there these days. It was awfully hot upstairs in the summer, even with the window air conditioners.
But the process doesn't always go right, you know. Since then, he's been passed around like idiot royalty. Louisiana had been hosting him for the past year. " His accent was still thick and his face still handsome, in a jowly kind of way. The dark hair tumbled over his forehead in a carefully careless style. The heavy sideburns were brushed. Some undead fan had groomed him for the evening. "I'm just fine, thank you," I said politely, grinning from ear to ear. I do that when I'm nervous. "I was just fixing to go to work," I added, wondering if it was possible I would be able to simply get in my car and drive away.