A Touch of Dead by Charlaine Harris Read Free Book Online Page A

doubted his own powers, I got away with it.
    “Master, how did you escape from your tomb at Târgoviste?” I asked, doing my best to sound admiring and dreamy. I kept my hands down by my sides so the folds of rosy chiffon would conceal them.
    “Many have asked me that,” the Dark Prince said, inclining his head graciously as Eric’s own head jerked up, his brows drawn together. “But that story must wait. My beautiful one, I am so glad you left your neck bare tonight. Come closer to me . . . ERRRK! ”
    “ That’s for the bad dialogue!” I said, my voice trembling as I tried to shove the stake in even harder.
    “And that’s for the embarrassment,” Eric said, giving the end a tap with his fist, just to help, as the “Prince”
stared at us in horror. The stake obligingly disappeared into his chest.
    “You dare . . . you dare,” the short vampire croaked. “You shall be executed.”
    “I don’t think so,” I said. His face went blank, and his eyes were empty. Flakes began to drift from his skin as he crumpled.
    But as the self-proclaimed Dracula sank to the floor and I looked around me, I wasn’t so sure. Only the presence of Eric at my side kept the assemblage from falling on me and taking care of business. The vampires from out of town were the most dangerous; the vampires that knew me would hesitate.
    “He wasn’t Dracula,” I said as clearly and loudly as I could. “He was an impostor.”
    “Kill her!” said a thin female vamp with short brown hair. “Kill the murderess!” She had a heavy accent, I thought Russian. I was about tired of the new wave of vamps.
    Pot calling the kettle black , I thought briefly. I said, “You-all really think this goober was the Prince of Darkness?” I pointed to the flaking mess on the floor, held together by the spangled jumpsuit.
    “He is dead. Anyone who kills Dracula must die,”
said Indira quietly, but not like she was going to rush over and rip my throat out.
    “Any vampire who kills Dracula must die,” Pam corrected. “But Sookie is not a vampire, and this was not Dracula.”
    “She killed one impersonating our founder,” Eric said, making sure he could be heard throughout the club. “Milos was not the real Dracula. I would have staked him myself if I had had my wits about me.” But I was standing right by Eric, my hand on his arm, and I knew he was shaking.
    “How do you know that? How could she tell, a human who had only a few moments in his presence? He looked just like the woodcuts!” This from a tall, heavy man with a French accent.
    “Vlad Tepes was buried at the monastery on Snagov,” Pam said calmly, and everyone turned to her. “Sookie asked him how he’d escaped from his tomb at Târgoviste.”
    Well, that hushed them up, at least temporarily. I began to think I might live through this night.
    “Recompense must be made to his maker,” pointed out the tall, heavy vampire. He’d calmed down quite a bit in the last few minutes.

    “If we can determine his maker,” Eric said, “certainly.”
    “I’ll search my database,” Bill offered. He was standing in the shadows, where he’d lurked all evening. Now he took a step forward, and his dark eyes sought me out like a police helicopter searchlight catches the fleeing felon on Cops. “I’ll find out his real name, if no one here has met him before.”
    All the vamps present glanced around. No one stepped forward to claim Milos/Dracula’s acquaintance.
    “In the meantime,” Eric said smoothly, “let’s not forget that this event should be a secret amongst us until we can find out more details.” He smiled with a great show of fang, making his point quite nicely. “What happens in Shreveport, stays in Shreveport.”
    There was a murmur of assent.
    “What do you say, guests?” Eric asked the non-vamp attendees.
    Colonel Flood said, “Vampire business is not pack business. We don’t care if you kill each other. We won’t meddle in your affairs.”
    Calvin shrugged.