Living Dead in Dallas by Charlaine Harris Page B

thong?” Bill seemed a little preoccupied all of a sudden.
    “It would. I didn’t see the need to be professional down to the skin.”
    “And what skin it is,” Bill murmured. “So tan, so . . . smooth.”
    “Yep, I figured I didn’t need to wear any hose.” I tucked the plastic rectangle—the “key”—under one of the side straps.
    “Oh, I don’t think it’ll stay there,” he said, his eyes large and luminous. “We might get separated, so you definitely need to take it with you. Try another spot.”
    I moved it somewhere else.
    “Oh, Sookie. You’ll never get at it in a hurry there. We have . . . ah, we have to go.” Bill seemed to shake himself out of his trance.
    “All right, if you insist,” I said, smoothing the skirt of the suit over my “underthings.”
    He gave me a dark look, patted his pockets like men do, just to make sure they got everything. It was an oddly human gesture, and it touched me in a way I couldn’t even describe to myself. We gave each other a sharp nod and walked down the corridor to the elevator. Isabel Beaumont would be waiting, and I had a distinct feeling she wasn’t used to that.
    The ancient vampire, who looked no more than thirty-five, was standing exactly where we’d left her. Here at the Silent Shore Hotel, Isabel felt free to be her vampire self, which included immobile downtime. People fidget. They are compelled to look engaged in an activity, or purposeful. Vampires can just occupy space without feeling obliged to justify it. As we came out of the elevator, Isabel looked exactly like a statue. You could have hung your hat on her, though you’d have been sorry.
    Some early warning system kicked in when we were within six feet of the vamp. Isabel’s eyes flicked in our direction and her right hand moved, as though someonehad thrown her “on” switch. “Come with me,” she said, and glided out the main door. Barry could hardly open it for her fast enough. I noticed he had enough training to cast his eyes down as she passed. Everything you’ve heard about meeting vampires’ eyes is true.
    Predictably, Isabel’s car was a black Lexus loaded with options. Vampires won’t go around in any Geo. Isabel waited until I’d buckled my seat belt (she and Bill didn’t bother to use them) before pulling away from the curb, which surprised me. Then we were driving through Dallas, down a main thoroughfare. Isabel seemed to be the strong silent type, but after we’d been in the car for maybe five minutes, she seemed to shake herself, as if she had been reminded she had orders.
    We began a curve to the left. I could see some sort of grassy area, and a vague shape that would be some kind of historical marker, maybe. Isabel pointed to her right with a long bony finger. “The Texas School Book Depository,” she said, and I understood she felt obliged to inform me. That meant she had been ordered to do so, which was very interesting. I followed her finger eagerly, taking in as much of the brick building as I could see. I was surprised it didn’t look more notable.
    “That’s the grassy knoll?” I breathed, excited and impressed. It was like I’d happened upon the Hindenburg or some other fabled artifact.
    Isabel nodded, a barely perceptible movement that I only caught because her braid jerked. “There is a museum in the old depository,” she said.
    Now, that was something I’d like to see in the daytime. If we were here long enough, I’d walk or maybe find out how to catch a cab while Bill was in his coffin.
    Bill smiled over his shoulder at me. He could pick up on my slightest mood, which was wonderful about eighty percent of the time.
    We drove for at least twenty more minutes, leavingbusiness areas and entering residential. At first the structures were modest and boxy; but gradually, though the lots didn’t seem that much larger, the houses began to grow as if they’d taken steroids. Our final destination was a huge house shoehorned onto a small lot.