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Living Dead in Dallas

Poche - 26/03/2002 - Ace

4.0

(756)

  • Living Dead in Dallas

Le Pitch

Présentation de l'éditeur The second novel in #1 New York Times bestselling author Charlaine Harris’s “addictively entertaining” (Locus) Sookie Stackhouse series—the inspiration for the HBO® original series True Blood.Even though Sookie has her own vampire to look out for her—her red-hot, cold-blooded boyfriend, Bill Compton—she has to admit that the bloodsuckers did save her life. So when one of the local Undead asks the cocktail waitress for a favor, she feels like she owes them. Soon, Sookie’s in Dallas using her telepathic skills to search for a missing vampire. She’s supposed to interview certain humans involved. There’s just one condition: The vampires must promise to behave—and let the humans go unharmed. Easier said than done. All it takes is one delicious blonde and one small mistake for things to turn deadly... Extrait Andy Bellefleur was as drunk as a skunk. This wasn't normal for Andy believe me, I know all the drunks in Bon Temps. Working at Sam Merlotte's bar for several years has pretty much introduced me to all of them. But Andy Bellefleur, native son and detective on Bon Temps's small police force, had never been drunk in Merlotte's before. I was mighty curious as to why tonight was an exception. Andy and I aren't friends by any stretch of the imag-ination, so I couldn't ask him outright. But other means were open to me, and I decided to use them. Though I try to limit employing my disability, or gift, or whatever you want to call it, to find out things that might have an effect on me or mine, sometimes sheer curiosity wins out. I let down my mental guard and read Andy's mind. I was sorry. Andy had had to arrest a man that morning for kid-napping. He'd taken his ten-year-old neighbor to a place in the woods and raped her. The girl was in the hospital, and the man was in jail, but the damage that had been dealt was irreparable. I felt weepy and sad. It was a crime that touched too closely on my own past. I liked Andy a little better for his depression. "Andy Bellefleur, give me your keys," I said. His broad face turned up to me, showing very little compre-hension. After a long pause while my meaning filtered through to his addled brain, Andy fumbled in the pocket of his khakis and handed me his heavy key ring. I put another bourbon-and-Coke on the bar in front of him. "My treat," I said, and went to the phone at the end of the bar to call Portia, Andy's sister. The Bellefleur sib-lings lived in a decaying large white two-story antebel-lum, formerly quite a showplace, on the prettiest street in the nicest area of Bon Temps. On Magnolia Creek Road, all the homes faced the strip of park through which ran the stream, crossed here and there by deco-rative bridges for foot traffic only; a road ran on both sides. There were a few other old homes on Magnolia Creek Road, but they were all in better repair than the Bellefleur place, Belle Rive. Belle Rive was just too much for Portia, a lawyer, and Andy, a cop, to maintain, since the money to support such a home and its grounds was long since gone. But their grandmother, Caroline, stubbornly refused to sell. Portia answered on the second ring. "Portia, this is Sookie Stackhouse," I said, having to raise my voice over the background noise in the bar. "You must be at work." "Yes. Andy's here, and he's three sheets to the wind. I took his keys. Can you come get him?" "Andy had too much to drink? That's rare. Sure, I'll be there in ten minutes," she promised, and hung up. "You're a sweet girl, Sookie," Andy volunteered un-expectedly. He'd finished the drink I'd poured for him. I swept the glass out of sight and hoped he wouldn't ask for more. "Thanks, Andy," I said. "You're okay, yourself." "Where'sboyfriend?" "Right here," said a cool voice, and Bill Compton appeared just behind Andy. I smiled at him over Andy's drooping head. Bill was about five foot ten, with dark brown hair and eyes. He had the broad shoulders and hard muscular arms of a man wh Afficher moins Afficher plus
Détails du livre

Découvrir 5 autres formats et éditions

Living Dead in Dallas

Poche - 26/03/2002 - Ace

4.0

(756)

 
6,98 € -43 %
3,97 €
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Livré entre : 26 mars - 29 mars
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Le Pitch

Présentation de l'éditeur The second novel in #1 New York Times bestselling author Charlaine Harris’s “addictively entertaining” (Locus) Sookie Stackhouse series—the inspiration for the HBO® original series True Blood.Even though Sookie has her own vampire to look out for her—her red-hot, cold-blooded boyfriend, Bill Compton—she has to admit that the bloodsuckers did save her life. So when one of the local Undead asks the cocktail waitress for a favor, she feels like she owes them. Soon, Sookie’s in Dallas using her telepathic skills to search for a missing vampire. She’s supposed to interview certain humans involved. There’s just one condition: The vampires must promise to behave—and let the humans go unharmed. Easier said than done. All it takes is one delicious blonde and one small mistake for things to turn deadly... Extrait Andy Bellefleur was as drunk as a skunk. This wasn't normal for Andy believe me, I know all the drunks in Bon Temps. Working at Sam Merlotte's bar for several years has pretty much introduced me to all of them. But Andy Bellefleur, native son and detective on Bon Temps's small police force, had never been drunk in Merlotte's before. I was mighty curious as to why tonight was an exception. Andy and I aren't friends by any stretch of the imag-ination, so I couldn't ask him outright. But other means were open to me, and I decided to use them. Though I try to limit employing my disability, or gift, or whatever you want to call it, to find out things that might have an effect on me or mine, sometimes sheer curiosity wins out. I let down my mental guard and read Andy's mind. I was sorry. Andy had had to arrest a man that morning for kid-napping. He'd taken his ten-year-old neighbor to a place in the woods and raped her. The girl was in the hospital, and the man was in jail, but the damage that had been dealt was irreparable. I felt weepy and sad. It was a crime that touched too closely on my own past. I liked Andy a little better for his depression. "Andy Bellefleur, give me your keys," I said. His broad face turned up to me, showing very little compre-hension. After a long pause while my meaning filtered through to his addled brain, Andy fumbled in the pocket of his khakis and handed me his heavy key ring. I put another bourbon-and-Coke on the bar in front of him. "My treat," I said, and went to the phone at the end of the bar to call Portia, Andy's sister. The Bellefleur sib-lings lived in a decaying large white two-story antebel-lum, formerly quite a showplace, on the prettiest street in the nicest area of Bon Temps. On Magnolia Creek Road, all the homes faced the strip of park through which ran the stream, crossed here and there by deco-rative bridges for foot traffic only; a road ran on both sides. There were a few other old homes on Magnolia Creek Road, but they were all in better repair than the Bellefleur place, Belle Rive. Belle Rive was just too much for Portia, a lawyer, and Andy, a cop, to maintain, since the money to support such a home and its grounds was long since gone. But their grandmother, Caroline, stubbornly refused to sell. Portia answered on the second ring. "Portia, this is Sookie Stackhouse," I said, having to raise my voice over the background noise in the bar. "You must be at work." "Yes. Andy's here, and he's three sheets to the wind. I took his keys. Can you come get him?" "Andy had too much to drink? That's rare. Sure, I'll be there in ten minutes," she promised, and hung up. "You're a sweet girl, Sookie," Andy volunteered un-expectedly. He'd finished the drink I'd poured for him. I swept the glass out of sight and hoped he wouldn't ask for more. "Thanks, Andy," I said. "You're okay, yourself." "Where'sboyfriend?" "Right here," said a cool voice, and Bill Compton appeared just behind Andy. I smiled at him over Andy's drooping head. Bill was about five foot ten, with dark brown hair and eyes. He had the broad shoulders and hard muscular arms of a man wh Afficher moins Afficher plus
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