- Shopping Bag ( 0 items )
“[Harris’s] mash-up of genres is delightful, taking elements from mysteries, horror stories, and romances.”—Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
"You got your cell phone in your pocket?" I asked, knowing I'd already asked him as soon as the words left my mouth. But Jason just nodded instead of snapping at me. It was still afternoon, but at the end of January the dark comes early.
Tonight would be the first full moon of the New Year.
When I stopped the car, Jason turned to look at me, and even in the dim light I saw the change in his eyes. They weren't blue like mine anymore. They were yellowish. The shape of them had changed.
"My face feels funny," he said. But he still hadn't put two and two together. Tiny Hotshot was silent and still in the waning light. A cold wind was blowing across the bare fields, and the pines and oaks were shivering in the gusts of frigid air. Only one man was visible. He was standing outside one of the little houses, the one that was freshly painted. This man's eyes were closed, and his bearded face was raised to the darkening sky. Calvin Norris waited until Jason was climbing out the passenger's door of my old Nova before he walked over and bent to my window. I rolled it down.
His golden-green eyes were as startling as I'd remembered, and the rest of him was just as unremarkable. Stocky, graying, sturdy, he looked like a hundred other men I'd seen in Merlotte's Bar, except for those eyes.
"I'll take good care of him," Calvin Norris said. Behind him, Jason stood with his back to me. The air around my brother had a peculiar quality; it seemed to be vibrating. None of this was Calvin Norris's fault. He hadn't been the one who'd bitten my brother and changed him forever. Calvin, a werepanther, had been born what he was; it was his nature. I made myself say, "Thank you."
"I'll bring him home in the morning."
"To my house, please. His truck is at my place."
"All right, then. Have a good night." He raised his face to the wind again, and I felt the whole community was waiting, behind their windows and doors, for me to leave.
So I did.
Jason knocked on my door at seven the next morning. He still had his little Wal-Mart bag, but he hadn't used anything in it. His face was bruised, and his hands were covered with scratches. He didn't say a word. He just stared at me when I asked him how he was, and walked past me through the living room and down the hall. He closed the door to the hall bathroom with a decisive click. I heard the water running after a second, and I heaved a weary sigh all to myself. Though I'd gone to work and come home tired at about two a.m., I hadn't gotten much sleep.
By the time Jason emerged, I'd fixed him some bacon and eggs. He sat down at the old kitchen table with an air of pleasure: a man doing a familiar and pleasant thing. But after a second of staring down at the plate, he leaped to his feet and ran back into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him. I listened to him throw up, over and over.
I stood outside the door helplessly, knowing he wouldn't want me to come in. After a moment, I went back to the kitchen to dump the food into the trash can, ashamed of the waste but utterly unable to force myself to eat.
When Jason returned, he said only, "Coffee?" He looked green around the gills, and he walked like he was sore.
"Are you okay?" I asked, not sure if he would be able to answer or not. I poured the coffee into a mug.
"Yes," he said after a moment, as though he'd had to think about it. "That was the most incredible experience of my life."
For a second, I thought he meant throwing up in my bathroom, but that was sure no new experience for Jason. He'd been quite a drinker in his teens, until he'd figured out that there was nothing glamorous or attractive about hanging over a toilet bowl, heaving your guts out.
"Shifting," I said tentatively.
He nodded, cradling his coffee mug in his hands. He held his face over the steam rising from the hot, strong blackness. He met my eyes. His own were once again their ordinary blue. "It's the most incredible rush," he said. "Since I was bitten, not born, I don't get to be a true panther like the others."
I could hear envy in his voice.
"But even what I become is amazing. You feel the magic inside you, and you feel your bones moving around and adapting, and your vision changes. Then you're lower to the ground and you walk in a whole different way, and as for running, damn, you can run.
You can chase...." And his voice died away.
I would just as soon not know that part, anyway.
"So it's not so bad?" I asked, my hands clasped together. Jason was all the family I had, except for a cousin who'd drifted away into the underworld of drugs years before.
"It's not so bad," Jason agreed, scraping up a smile to give me. "It's great while you're actually the animal. Everything's so simple. It's when you're back to being human that you start to worry about stuff."
He wasn't suicidal. He wasn't even despondent. I wasn't aware I'd been holding my breath until I let it out. Jason was going to be able to live with the hand he'd been dealt.
He was going to be okay.
The relief was incredible, like I'd removed something jammed painfully between my teeth or shaken a sharp rock out of my shoe. For days, weeks even, I'd been worried, and now that anxiety was gone. That didn't mean Jason's life as a shape-shifter would be worry-free, at least from my point of view. If he married a regular human woman, their kids would be normal. But if he married into the shifter community at Hotshot, I'd have nieces or nephews who turned into animals once a month. At least, they would after puberty; that would give them, and their auntie Sook, some preparation time.
Luckily for Jason, he had plenty of vacation days, so he wasn't due at the parish road department. But I had to work tonight. As soon as Jason left in his flashy pickup truck, I crawled back into bed, jeans and all, and in about five minutes I was fast asleep. The relief acted as a kind of sedative.
When I woke up, it was nearly three o'clock and time for me to get ready for my shift at Merlotte's. The sun outside was bright and clear, and the temperature was fifty-two, said my indoor-outdoor thermometer. This isn't too unusual in north Louisiana in January. The temperature would drop after the sun went down, and Jason would shift. But he'd have some fur-not a full coat, since he turned into half-man, half-cat-and he'd be with other panthers. They'd go hunting. The woods around Hotshot, which lay in a remote corner of Renard Parish, would be dangerous again tonight.
As I went about eating, showering, folding laundry, I thought of a dozen things I'd like to know. I wondered if the shifters would kill a human being if they came upon one in the woods. I wondered how much of their human consciousness they retained in their animal form. If they mated in panther form, would they have a kitten or a baby? What happened when a pregnant werepanther saw the full moon? I wondered if Jason knew the answer to all these questions yet, if Calvin had given him some kind of briefing. But I was glad I hadn't questioned Jason this morning while everything was still so new to him. I'd have plenty of chances to ask him later.
For the first time since New Year's Day, I was thinking about the future. The full moon symbol on my calendar no longer seemed to be a period marking the end of something, but just another way of counting time. As I pulled on my waitress outfit (black pants and a white boat-neck T-shirt and black Reeboks), I felt almost giddy with cheer. For once, I left my hair down instead of pulling it back and up into a ponytail. I put in some bright red dot earrings and matched my lipstick to the color. A little eye makeup and some blush, and I was good to go.
I'd parked at the rear of the house last night, and I checked the back porch carefully to make sure there weren't any lurking vampires before I shut and locked the back door behind me. I'd been surprised before, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling. Though it was barely dark, there might be some early risers around. Probably the last thing the Japanese had expected when they'd developed synthetic blood was that its availability would bring vampires out of the realm of legend and into the light of fact. The Japanese had just been trying to make a few bucks hawking the blood substitute to ambulance companies and hospital emergency rooms. Instead, the way we looked at the world had changed forever. Speaking of vampires (if only to myself), I wondered if Bill Compton was home.
Vampire Bill had been my first love, and he lived right across the cemetery from me. Our houses lay on a parish road outside the little town of Bon Temps and south of the bar where I worked. Lately, Bill had been traveling a lot. I only found out he was home if he happened to come into Merlotte's, which he did every now and then to mix with the natives and have some warm O-positive. He preferred TrueBlood, the most expensive Japanese synthetic. He'd told me it almost completely satisfied his cravings for blood fresh from the source. Since I'd witnessed Bill going into a bloodlust fit, I could only thank God for TrueBlood. Sometimes I missed Bill an awful lot.
I gave myself a mental shake. Snapping out of a slump, that was what today was all about. No more worry! No more fear! Free and twenty-six! Working! House paid for! Money in the bank! These were all good, positive things.
The parking lot was full when I got to the bar. I could see I'd be busy tonight. I drove around back to the employees' entrance. Sam Merlotte, the owner and my boss, lived back there in a very nice double-wide that even had a little yard surrounded by a hedge, Sam's equivalent of a white picket fence. I locked my car and went in the employees' back door, which opened into the hallway off of which lay the men's and the ladies', a large stock room, and Sam's office. I stowed my purse and coat in an empty desk drawer, pulled up my red socks, shook my head to make my hair hang right, and went through the doorway (this door was almost always propped open) that led to the big room of the bar/restaurant. Not that the kitchen produced anything but the most basic stuff: hamburgers, chicken strips, fries and onion rings, salads in the summer and chili in the winter.
Sam was the bartender, the bouncer, and on occasion the cook, but lately we'd been lucky in getting our positions filled: Sam's seasonal allergies had hit hard, making him less than ideal as a food handler. The new cook had shown up in answer to Sam's ad just the week before. Cooks didn't seem to stay long at Merlotte's, but I was hoping that Sweetie Des Arts would stick around a while. She showed up on time, did her job well, and never gave the rest of the staff any trouble. Really, that was all you could ask for. Our last cook, a guy, had given my friend Arlene a big rush of hope that he was The One-in this case, he'd have been her fourth or fifth One-before he'd decamped overnight with her plates and forks and a CD player. Her kids had been devastated; not because they'd loved the guy, but because they missed their CD player. I walked into a wall of noise and cigarette smoke that made it seem like I was passing into another universe. Smokers all sit on the west side of the room, but the smoke doesn't seem to know it should stay there. I put a smile on my face and stepped behind the bar to give Sam a pat on the arm. After he expertly filled a glass with beer and slid it to a patron, he put another glass under the tap and began the process all over again.
"How are things?" Sam asked carefully. He knew all about Jason's problems, since he'd been with me the night I'd found Jason being held prisoner in a toolshed in Hotshot. But we had to be roundabout in our speech; vampires had gone public, but shape-shifters and Weres were still cloaked in secrecy. The underground world of supernatural beings was waiting to see how vampires fared before they followed the vampire example by going public.
"Better than I expected." I smiled up at him, though not too far up, since Sam's not a big man. He's built lean, but he's much stronger than he looks. Sam is in his thirties-at least, I think he is-and he has reddish gold hair that halos his head. He's a good man, and a great boss. He's also a shape-shifter, so he can change into any animal. Most often, Sam turns into a very cute collie with a gorgeous coat. Sometimes he comes over to my place and I let him sleep on the rug in the living room.
"He's gonna be fine."
"I'm glad," he said. I can't read shifter minds as easily as I read human minds, but I can tell if a mood is true or not. Sam was happy because I was happy.
"When are you taking off?" I asked. He had that faraway look in his eyes, the look that said he was mentally running through the woods, tracking possums.
"As soon as Terry gets here." He smiled at me again, but this time the smile was a bit strained. Sam was getting antsy.
The door to the kitchen was just outside the bar area at the west end, and I stuck my head in the door to say hi to Sweetie. Sweetie was bony and brunette and fortyish, and she wore a lot of makeup for someone who was going to be out of sight in the kitchen all evening. She also seemed a little sharper, perhaps better educated, than any of Merlotte's previous short-order cooks.
"You doing okay, Sookie?" she called, flipping a hamburger as she spoke. Sweetie was in constant motion in the kitchen, and she didn't like anyone getting in her way. The teenager who assisted her and bussed tables was terrified of Sweetie, and he took care to dodge her as she moved from griddle to fryer. This teenage boy got the plates ready, made the salads, and went to the window to tell the barmaids which order was up. Out on the floor, Holly Cleary and her best friend, Danielle, were working hard. They'd both looked relieved when they'd seen me come in. Danielle worked the smoking section to the west, Holly usually worked the middle area in front of the bar, and I worked the east when three of us were on duty.
"It looks like I better get moving," I told Sweetie. She gave me a quick smile and turned back to the griddle. The cowed teenager, whose name I had yet to catch, gave me a ducked-head nod and went back to loading the dishwasher.
I wished Sam had called me before things had gotten so busy; I wouldn't have minded coming in a little earlier. Of course, he wasn't exactly himself tonight.
Excerpted from Dead as a Doornail by Charlaine Harris Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Posted August 2, 2010
I don't know if Ms. Harris was a little tired after all the effort she put into the first 4 books but book 5 in the Stackhouse series reads like a drawn out afterthought; a little nonsensical and very often dull. In Doornail there is a sniper on the loose taking out members of the supernatural world. Sookie endures the usual litany of sticky situations and mortal injuries but this time around the story is extremely diluted with pointless commentary and insufferable podunk metaphors ("my face burned like a pack of fire ants"). Cue the banjo.
Furthermore, this book is somewhat hard to follow. Many of the pivotal characters are people/things that have never before been referenced and there are times when the dialogue is completely without context; "I turned to Maryelizabeth and her daughter and thanked them for the glass of water. Maryelizabeth gave me a hostile look and said to her daughter 'We should've never sent you to school'". What? What does that have to do with anything? I very often read after I've had a couple (six) glasses of wine but I have a pretty good recollection of the major action items in this story and Maryelizabeth's daughter's education had nothing to do with anything and while we're at it, who the hell is Maryelizabeth?
I mean, I'm going to continue reading the series (if anything it makes the HBO series more fun to watch) but I sincerely hope later stories have a little more umph.
3 out of 4 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Wow, I am surprised that this series just gets better and better as you read it. This book makes a shift to focus more on werewolfes and shapeshifters and of course, most of them accept her. We also see a little more from the fairies.<BR/><BR/>The book picks up on the storyline that was laid in book 4. Eric has his memory back, but doesn't remember. Jason has been bitten by a werepanther and is waiting for the first full moon.<BR/><BR/>Someone is trying to kill werewolfs and shifters, the search for Debbie Pelt continues and there are attempts made on Sookie's life. While I would have liked to have seen more with the vampires in this book, we got to see enough of them and the storyline with Eric and Sookie is further developed. (love that) Lots of great and well developed plot in this book.<BR/><BR/>Definetly a page turner and a worthwhile read in this series.
3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted November 2, 2012
Posted September 26, 2012
Every book is great, just great, im not sure wich one is better the books or the tv series, anyway now im going to enjoy the next
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted May 2, 2012
Posted April 2, 2012
Posted December 15, 2011
Posted May 8, 2013
Posted February 9, 2013
Posted December 25, 2012
Posted September 24, 2012
I am enjoying this series. Some parts and books more than others. One request is that those of you writing reviews quit giving away major plot points. Say whether you like the book, give vague details and then be done! A review is not a book report where you have to list all the details!Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted September 21, 2012
5th book in the Sookie Stackhouse series. I loved it. I'm intrigued by the new character Quinn, and also to see what Eric is going to do now that Sookie has told him what really happened when he was under the witches spell. I look forward to book 6. BTW... Bill is a bit of a douche in this book.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted August 30, 2012
I really enjoyed this book but I was confused at some point in the story when she started describing Claude and Claudine. How did she find out about fairies, and how did she know what weakens them? It threw me off the momentum of the story but still enjoyable. Just certain parts leave you wondering, " Wait, what did I miss?" Which made me backtrack.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted July 29, 2012
Johanna Parker is great when reading this book and all the series. Very talented at what she does...and the novels are amazing. Just love the Sookie Stackhouse series!Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 23, 2012
Posted June 17, 2012
Posted May 26, 2012
Posted March 10, 2012
There is somanny ways that i can explain it but realy you have to read it if you have read the other ones before it. Full of sexy studs, lusting vamps, and alot of wierd thing that are so unexpectdd i could not even pay attention ti any thing else and i couldnt put it down. I loved it and you will too!!!!!!!!Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted March 1, 2012
Posted February 16, 2012