
By Charlaine Harris
It’s vampire politics as traditional round the city of Bon Temps, yet by no means sooner than have they hit so with regards to Sookie’s heart…
Growing up with telepathic skills, Sookie Stackhouse learned early on there have been issues she’d quite no longer comprehend. And now that she’s an grownup, she additionally realizes that a few issues she understands approximately, she’d quite now not see—like Eric Northman feeding off one other lady. A more youthful one.
There’s something or she’d prefer to say approximately that, yet she has to maintain quiet—Felipe de Castro, the Vampire King of Louisiana (and Arkansas and Nevada), is on the town. It’s the worst attainable time for a human physique to teach up in Eric’s entrance yard—especially the physique of the girl whose blood he simply drank.
Now, it’s as much as Sookie and invoice, the legitimate region 5 investigator, to resolve the homicide. Sookie thinks that, a minimum of this time, the useless girl’s destiny has not anything to do together with her. yet she is incorrect. She has an enemy, one way more devious than she may ever suspect, who’s got down to make Sookie’s global come crashing down.
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Extra info for Deadlocked (Southern Vampire Mysteries, Book 12)
Sample text
Perhaps, through their apparent telepathy, they had been warned away by the deaths of the hundreds of fellow creatures that Eph, Fet, and Setrakian had slain. Fet used his steel rod to poke at the mound of discarded mobile phones, piled up like a cairn. A desultory monument to human futility—as though vampires had sucked the life out of people, and all that was left were their gadgets. Fet said, quietly, “I’ve been thinking about something he said. He was talking about myths from different cultures and ages revealing similar basic human fears.
Blood and residue had once been collected there, but now, after a thorough cleaning in advance of the Master’s residency, the structure resembled most closely a small industrial chapel. The pulsating slash on the Master’s back had started healing almost instantly. He never feared any permanent damage from the wound—he never feared anything—and yet the slash would form into a scar, defacing his body like an affront. The old fool and the humans by his side would regret the day they crossed the Master.
Over here,” said Fet. ” A splashed-out swirl of colors at the base of the side wall, given life by the rays of Fet’s lamp wand, indicated a fresh spray of vampire urine. Then Fet illuminated the entire wall with a normal flashlight. A graffiti mural of wild designs, random in arrangement, covered the stone expanse. Closer, Eph discerned that the vast majority of the figures were variations on a six-pointed motif, ranging from rudimentary to abstract to simply bewildering. Here was something starlike in appearance; there a more amoeba-like pattern.