I groped around for an example. “Well, like Appius having sex with Alexei. It was not a big deal for you, even though Alexei was thirteen.” Eric’s maker, Appius Livius Ocella, had become a vampire during the time when Romans ruled much of the world.

“Sookie, it was what you call a done deal long before I even knew I had a brother. In Ocella’s time, people were reckoned practically grown at thirteen. They were even married that young. Ocella never understood some of the changes in society that came with the centuries. And Alexei and Ocella are both dead now.” Eric shrugged. “There was another side of that coin, you remember? Alexei used his youth, his childlike looks, to disarm all the vampires and humans around him. Even Pam was loath to put him down, though she knew how destructive he was, how insane. And she’s the most ruthless vampire I know. He was a drain on all of us, sucking the will and force from us with the depth of his need.”

And with that unexpectedly poetic sentence, Eric was done talking about Alexei and Ocella. His whole face turned stony. I recalled my main point: our irreconcilable differences. “What about the fact that you’re going to outlive me for, like, forever?”

“We can take care of that easily enough.”

I just stared at him.

“What?” Eric said, almost genuinely amazed. “You don’t want to live forever? With me?”

“I don’t know,” I said, finally. I tried to imagine it. The night, forever. Endless. But with Eric!

I said, “You know, Eric, I can’t . . .” And then I stopped dead. I’d almost insulted him unforgivably. I knew he felt the wave of doubt emanating from me.

I’d almost said, “I just can’t imagine you sticking around after I start to look old.”

Though there were a few more topics I had hoped we’d cover in our rare tête-à-tête, I felt the conversation was teetering on the edge of Disaster Canyon. Maybe it was lucky there was knocking at the back door. I’d heard the car coming, but my attention had been so focused on my companion that I hadn’t really registered its meaning.

Amelia Broadway and Bob Jessup were at the back door. Amelia looked the same as ever: healthy and fresh faced, her short brown hair tousled and her skin and eyes clear. Bob, not much taller than Amelia and equally lean, was a small-boned guy who looked kind of like a sexy Mormon missionary. His black-framed glasses managed to look retro instead of geeky. He was wearing jeans, a black-and-white plaid shirt, and tasseled loafers. He’d been a very cute cat, but his attraction as a guy escaped me—or rather it showed itself to me only now and then.