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Dead Ever After

Charlaine Harris

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Beschreibung

THE FINAL NOVEL IN THE #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING SOOKIE STACKHOUSE SERIES—the inspiration for the HBO® original series True Blood.

When a shocking murder rocks the small town of Bon Temps, Louisiana, psychic cocktail waitress Sookie Stackhouse learns that she has more than one enemy waiting to get vengeance for the past. Beacuse nothing is ever clear-cut in Bon Temps. What passes for truth is only a convenient lie. What passes for justice is more spilled blood. And what passes for love is never enough...

Praise for #1 New York Times bestselling author Charlaine Harris's Sookie Stackhouse novels

"It's the kind of book you look forward to reading before you go to bed, thinking you're only going to read one chapter, and then you end up reading seven."-Alan Ball, executive producer of True Blood

"Vivid, subtle, and funny in her portrayal of southern life."-Entertainment Weekly

"Charlaine Harris has vividly imagined telepathic barmaid Sookie Stackhouse and her small-town Louisiana milieu, where humans, vampires, shapeshifters, and other sentient critters live...Her mash-up of genres is delightful, taking elements from mysteries, horror stories, and romances."-Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

"The series continues to be inventive and funny with an engaging, smart, and sexy heroine."-The Denver Post

"Blending action, romance, and comedy, Harris has created a fully functioning world so very close to our own, except, of course, for the vamps and other supernatural creatures."-The Toronto Star

Charlaine Harris is the #1
New York Times bestselling author of the Sookie Stackhouse and Midnight, Texas, fantasy/mystery series and the Aurora Teagarden, Harper Connelly, and Lily Bard mystery series. Her books have inspired HBO’s
True Blood, NBC’s
Midnight, Texas, and the Aurora Teagarden movies for Hallmark Movies & Mysteries. She has lived in the South her entire life.

Produktdetails

Einband Taschenbuch
Seitenzahl 368
Erscheinungsdatum 01.03.2014
Sprache Englisch
ISBN 978-0-425-25639-8
Verlag Penguin LCC US
Maße (L/B/H) 17.2/10.8/3.2 cm
Gewicht 177 g

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  • Prologue

    JANUARY

    The New Orleans businessman, whose gray hair put him in his fifties, was accompanied by his much younger and taller bodyguard/ chauffeur on the night he met the devil in the French Quarter. The meeting was by prearrangement.

    "This is really the Devil we're going to see?" asked the bodyguard. He was tense-but then, that wasn't too surprising.

    "Not the Devil, but a devil." The businessman was cool and collected on the outside, but maybe not so much on the inside. "Since he came up to me at the Chamber of Commerce banquet, I've learned a lot of things I didn't know before." He looked around him, trying to spot the creature he'd agreed to meet. He told his bodyguard, "He convinced me that he was what he said he was. I always thought my daughter was simply deluded. I thought she imagined she had power because she wanted to have something . . . of her own. Now I'm willing to admit she has a certain talent, though nowhere near what she thinks."

    It was cold and damp, even in New Orleans, in the January night. The businessman shifted from foot to foot to keep warm. He told the bodyguard, "Evidently, meeting at a crossroads is traditional." The street was not as busy as it would be in the summer, but there were still drinkers and tourists and natives going about their night's entertainment. He wasn't afraid, he told himself. "Ah, here he comes," the businessman said.

    The devil was a well- dressed man, much like the businessman. His tie was by Hermes. His suit was Italian. His shoes were custom made. His eyes were abnormally clear, the whites gleaming, the irises a purplish brown; they looked almost red from certain angles.

    "What have you got for me?" the devil asked, in a voice that indicated he was only faintly interested.

    "Two souls," said the businessman. "Tyrese has agreed to go in with me."

    The devil shifted his gaze to the bodyguard. After a moment, the bodyguard nodded. He was a big man, a light-skinned African American with bright hazel eyes.

    "Your own free will?" the devil asked neutrally. "Both of you?"

    "My own free will," said the businessman.

    "My own free will," affirmed the bodyguard.

    The devil said, "Then let's get down to business."

    "Business" was a word that made the older man comfortable. He smiled. "Wonderful. I've got the documents right here, and they're signed." Tyrese opened a thin leather folder and withdrew two pieces of paper: not parchment or human skin, nothing that dramatic or exotic-computer paper that the businessman's office secretary had bought at Office Max. Tyrese offered the papers to the devil, who gave them a quick glance.

    "You have to sign them again," the devil said. "For this signature, ink is not satisfactory."

    "I thought you were joking about that." The businessman frowned.

    "I never joke," the devil said. "I do have a sense of humor, oh, believe me, I do. But not about contracts."

    "We actually have to . . . ?"

    "Sign in blood? Yes, absolutely. It's traditional. And you'll do it now." He read the businessman's sideways glance correctly. "I promise you no one will see what you are doing," he said. As the devil spoke, a sudden hush enveloped the three men, and a thick film fell between them and the rest of the street scene.

    The businessman sighed elaborately, to show how melodramatic he thought this tradition was. "Tyrese, your knife?" he said, looking up to the chauffeur.

    Tyrese's knife appeared with shocking suddenness, probably from his coat sleeve; the blade was obviously sharp, and it gleamed in the streetlight. The businessman shucked off his coat and handed it to his companion. He unbuttoned his cuff and rolled up his sleeve. Perhaps to let the devil know how tough he was, he jabbed himself in the left arm with the knife. A sluggish trickle of blood rewarded his effort, and he looked the devil directly in the face as he accepted th