No title, working

by frozenfeet

A different take on what could have happened at the fellowship, set far in the future. Come and take a look.

1. Chapter 1

Of course he just has to make a big entrance. Swaggering around the place like he owns it, flashing fang and name in a blatant attempt to cow the younger members of my retinue.

The clothes he wears are nearly identical in style to when I last saw him but the man that lies beneath them has subtly changed, though you'd have to have known him well to see it. His walk is less cock-sure, and that trademark smirk of his has gained a harder edge and lost its sparkle. The little power plays he was so fond of are aggravatingly, still there. This is going to fuck with everything if he's here to stay.

He's arrogantly assuming he is the oldest thing those children have ever seen as continues his act. A gamble which is backfiring. His standing is not what it was, and my subjects… are unusual. (my second vehemently, and ridiculously blames the water supply). He has yet to realise that under my rule the younger ones live and work with older vampires as par of the course. Some of whom have fearsome reputations that exceed his own. Needless to say Eric is not fond of being treated to such familiarity by those he considers to be beneath him.

The restrained intimidation tactics he deploys don't have the effect he's use to. The younger ones responded with bold curiosity, rather than fawning reverence he expects, forcing him to resort to less subtle hints of violence that can not be mistaken.

Oh he's managed to disperse the young ones that chattered around him like he was aiming to with such tactics, and he looks far to please with himself for it. It's true they've dispersed on mass, but they don't flee through fear as he assumes they do. They have scattered to fetch backup, and it will be here in moments. With any luck he'll meet a few familiar faces shortly, but not me. He won't see this face if I can help it.

Only a fool would be overconfident enough to think Eric won't know me if he catches sight of my features. So I sit and observe, knowing my helpers will have followed protocol and vanished as soon as trouble was spotted on the horizon. I continue to do what I do best as he attempts to assert his dominance over the situation, I lurk in the dark smoke.

The air is growing tense as he carries on throwing his weight around, despite how none of the vampires will confirm or deny my presence, more out of irritation than allegiance. They do not rise to his baits , denying him the fight he so obviously wants, but even the most composed of our kind are visibly bristling at Eric's attempts to push them around. Watching Eric, silently allowing these disrespectful actions to continue, tests my will power considerably. Even Penelope's vast reserves of patience are wearing thin with his antics.

As the potential for violence brews the humans instinctively move to another room. Sticking to the shadows as this happens isn't difficult, my retinue can handle themselves, and will protect those that can't.

One way or another I'm going to have to deal with him, with it , soon, not that I want to. Irritated as I am still In a strange way I'm content to observe to see what other changes time has wrought.

As Eric becomes more erratic with each rebuff from Wren , I mark how plain for all to see, the discipline his maker instilled in him has eroded away

What else hasn't changed is glaringly obvious. That insufferable conceit of his isn't gone. Why would it be, I sigh to myself, he was taught that long before he met me, and he's been walking around for a thousand years with the strength to back it up.

We on the other hand ran, and kept on running through the years so far and so fast I thought nothing could catch us. Not even those feelings I buried in the rubble of that place where a life was based on lies told by other people .

Through my running I saw the world as it changed, content to bury my former lives and flee. Careful that no one saw me. It wasn't hard, all anybody anyone saw when the looked at me was a girl, with an umbrella .

Years later I figured it was time to pick up a few things from my past lives that no one would miss and be on my way. Given the circumstances I could sneak around unseen in the confusion. Where was the harm? I had asked myself. Jason abandoned the house, and left it derelict when no one would buy it. The others things…They were hidden away securely, in places only known to me.

I found the harm in my venture quickly enough.

Wind and rain had done damage enough on their own, but the elements couldn't account for all the wreckage. Furniture and glass was smashed, walls were punctured… Some one had beaten me to the punch. The house must have been ransacked the moment I left it. They'd turned the whole place over, and destroyed what they didn't take as though none of it mattered to anyone. Numbly picking my way through the shards I found a few things that could be saved, but little of what I had actually come for.

Hadley's tell tail perfume was a surprise I could have done without. The scent wasn't recent but that didn't matter. I'd been far too shocked to realise I knew it was hers, and that she'd been a vampire. I could put together what had happened all too easily. She'd led them here to me, perhaps to claim the telepath and she along with the others with her, who ever they were, had mutilated my home when I didn't return.

Curious what they had been searching for I tried to discover what had been taken and in a turn of events I discovered things I never knew of. Things that should have been given to me, but had laid undiscovered in old trick draws.

Mission accomplished I packed the car and just stood there for what felt like hours, trembling. A book of matches in hand. The fear of being revealed didn't seem so bad. I wanted it, all of it, to be over.

Who knew it would be Eric that broke through my mental breakdown then. I was only dimly aware of my surroundings until he joined the fray. When his rage coursed through me I could sense the fighting was getting closer, too close. It was time to go. I couldn't be seen by anyone, let alone…

I could dwell on my misery just as well from a distance.

It took me a moment to break through the melancholy completely (a hang over from my maker) but I did it. I focused so hard on dredging up whatever I could from my mind to make myself move my hair hurt … 'A woman does what she has to', 'control your emotions', 'detach do what you have to do'. With one last look at my childhood home I laid my former lives to rest.

Walking away broke my heart, but what I have done. If I interfered, or set the place alight it would leave a great big I'm not really dead sign, and neither of us planned on coming back.

I did dwell on my misery just as well from a distance. That letter… I must have read and re-read it thousand times, each word tore me apart, the other objects… I kept it close by for a time. In spite of how it tore at my soul, I couldn't bare to throw it away. My new reality was troubling, but not as terrible as when that letter was a revealed to be a forgery, when it came to light that that-

-The clatter of chairs ends my down time. From the looks of things I had been running down memory lane a little too long, but as much as I wished to intercede my plans couldn't change. I restrained myself to sending a signal for Thalia to step in before anyone else was seriously harmed. The former Sherriff of Area Five really had fallen if he let his temper rule him that much. The state he was in I doubted that this new Eric would give a damn about collateral damage.

Quite the reversal lay before my eyes, Thalia calm and collected, while Eric teetered on the edge of control. Given everything he and Sophie Anne planned to put me through it is so very tempting to shove him off that cliff edge into the abyss. Uncontrolled bloodlust would force my hand, and as sheriff I could kill him with impunity. Neatly ending the slew of mounting problems...

It wasn't to be, even if he had attempted to do the same the first time he summoned her to that dive of his, I didn't have the stomach for something so crude.

Sometimes I dislike my position, the responsibility of it makes murderous impulses for revenge easier to control, except with nameless. I won't delude myself that justice was the reason behind the sentence handed down for him.

Meanwhile the air in the club is virtually crackling with tension as Thalia and her companions squared off against the Viking, itching for an excuse to prove their mettle. All it would take is one move for the blood bath to begin…

For a moment I wasn't sure if Eric would back down, despite being out numbered and out gunned. His eyes were too wild to hold any rational thought behind them as he scanned the club.

To everyone's relief he does back down, reluctantly taking slow steps back, replacing fangs with an usual sneer. My second suggests he leaves to take advantage of the hospitality lodgings , until the sheriff is available.

He agrees to leave, asking for directions as he turns to be escorted to one of our safe houses. Not that I imagine for one minute that he will stay there. Thalia for the meantime is watching Eric like a hawk . One signal from me, a wave, a nod, and she'll see to it her former sheriff really will loose his head.

I do very well out of knowing a scary vampire who takes her vow of fealty with an extreme seriousness. It's a pity she never made it to Dallas, she might have liked it there.

I don't know what I'd do without Thalia. She was one of the first to join me and I've never had cause to regret it. The rumour mill has it that I'm her maker, sister or child depending who you talk to. I haven't decided if I like the irony of that yet. She would if she knew the full story. Her sense of humour is complex, fascinating, as many things about her are, and her famed temper is very different now she isn't pressured to parade around like a side show.

Thalia and I we understand each other, which is more than she had with any other sheriff. I know she can handle the rest of this commotion so I leave her to it, and resume business as usual until the clock chimes out.

Two A.M finally. I'm about to leave the floor as Wren sidles up to me. He is too brave for his own good. My Wren, the first to confront Eric when it all kicked off. To the casual eye he's not in terrible shape but my Wren has always been a master at hiding pain.

It's a testament to how hurt he really is that my pouting child is willing to follow me into the back room, and forgo watching his favourite act. Someone else will have to close up to night so he can feed.

As we leave Thalia recruits other bouncers to ensure our troublesome guest is out of the area. Even if he isn't, I know they won't find him, but for the next hour I refuse to give a shit. Everything else is slowly winding down before the front of house closes up at four.

This time of the night is most precious to me. Most of our remaining clientele are couples, staying for the romantic ambiance of our star act. These fans have patiently waited since dusk for the moment Rachel will take centre stage and lounge across the grand piano in a clichéd fashion to sing for our late night clientele. I've given her their own private dressing rooms here just so the fans have a place to send the roses. It's in my best interests to spoil her sweet.

Her brother, Mark , is last of the trio and the older child. He's a private man, trustworthy, loyal, sociable but keeps few in his confidence. His personal life and his work is separated with a razor wire for the most part. The only time he calls on me is when it is a matter of dire urgency, generally if he has any issues he deals with them himself. I hardly see him except on the rare occasion he's goofing off work to listen to his maker and sister performances.

As always Mark has not come alone as he takes up his regular table. He's surrounded by his flock and happily spinning those infernal keys round his fingers like an old western gunslinger. He and Thalia alternate being head of security when it suits them, as though they think I don't notice. Personally I approve of their little system, it makes sure Thalia doesn't burn out, but she still remains in charge due to his tendency to bunk off to his flock on the rack for a high speed jaunt or four when he gets the itch. Patrolling he calls it, ha, we all know he does it because he still loves being a cabbie. To the terror of any traffic warden, and any sup foolish enough to break our rules where they can be seen.

Keeping our own in line with the laws is everything to me. We need to blend in with this new world order and we have. The trick nowadays is a ploy I picked up early on without meaning to , do not advertise as 'vampires' and you become rich. Clichéd as the idea of a vampire owning a bar is, most creatures simply come in for the retro music and excellent service. Once some one figured out we're there as well…. Would be conspiracy theorists worm their way in nightly hoping to catch a glimpse of secret vampire dealings, and pay us handsomely for the privilege. I charge them triple on holy days as a pre-emptive fine for them being a nuisance.

Those conspiracy nuts are the only reason our taxi service is in the black some months. Mark and his flocks speeding fines delivered through the letter box every morning now, I will have to get around to a having quiet word with my second about his child's driving one of these nights it's really starting to eat into the profits. It wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't posing in every mug shot the speed cameras take.

Aside from scarily fast taxis (which have there own horde of adrenaline junkies) our normality adds another layer of mystery for the thrill seekers who congregate in the hope of catching their own conspiracy theories in action. We get more of them in their ridiculous costumes around Halloween, not realising they're a laughing stock to everyone else who comes through the doors. Who see us as ordinary folk paying the bills.

Which in a matter of speaking, is vaguely accurate. If you ignore that the whole entertainment block is my own personal hub to keep track of my area. I flit from venue to venue a week at the art gallery, a night or three at the restaurants, the following at the opera. The random schedule keeps everyone on their toes and no one dares slack off just in case I arrive. Except between two am and three am, that's my time off the clock, fires, fights, tornados and Vikings be damned.

I am taking my evening nap, just like I do every night. Leaving the door to my office open so the soft music filters through…bliss. Down time is ok, but nothing can beat a real break. Kicking my shoes off and reclining across on the couch for half an hour is my only indulgence on a work night. Gods help anyone who disturbs me without a catastrophe of epic proportions.

Wren joins me on the couch and snuggles in to open my shirt. Wrapping himself round me like a python he steals nips of my blood from my neck and torso.

I threaten to spank him, if he doesn't behave, as he playfully pops the buttons off my shirt and rips my skirt so he can entwine himself between my legs more freely. Wren only chortles into my breast about promises as he sloppily bites again, letting blood ooze over my skin for later, ruining yet another silk bra with his messy eating habits. I know I shouldn't encourage this behaviour where someone could see but his impish demeanour stops me getting too morose or cantankerous. These quiet moments when it's just the two of us, when I'm not anyone's sheriff, have become my vice of choice, and I don't let anyone take it from me. I never knew how much I needed him until the night he rose.

I love to lavish affection on my baby. Wren plays the monster as well as any of my retinue, only in our nest does he act like an over grown brat, loving every second of attention it brings.

Pulling him closer and lacing my hands in his hair realises a peaceful sigh from us both as he finally latches on to my neck. He nurses slowly, prolonging the excuse for contact.

Not yet twenty past the hour and I sense a void at my door. He strides in to my office like he owns it. Samuel, one of the newer check ins is demanding more information about how I run things. Puffed up on his own sense of power he's not terribly bright, his maker must have seen something in him but I haven't a clue what that could have been.

Short and deceptively harmless in appearance, Samuel and his brown eyes see what he wants to see. An attractive woman clad only in the remains of a sinfully short skirt, dishevelled with the barest hint of a blood trickle in all the right places. He mistakes me for a human at first and leers unashamedly. The fact that I'm his superior is slipping his overly taxed mind as I drop my fangs.

The reminder or my ire doesn't stop his insubordinate stare at my chest. Apparently he left his manners and IQ back in the states with his belongings if my position commands more respect than he is capable of showing.

"Are there some aspects of a straightforward contract that require clarification, or do you just not own a dictionary". He deserves a sharper edge of my tongue than I give but a snappish tone isn't appropriate. Outwardly Samuel is pleasant, well pleasant enough for a vampire born and raised in the renegade territories.

Although he's not an older vampire, for now, I should watch my step. With the Viking prowling my area it's going to be too long a night to play infantile games over a contract I will not amend. It's a small matter, a test of sorts when I am deciding if a new comer should stay, and keeping an ear out usually does the job to nip illicit behaviour in the bud.

I gesture for Wren to summarise, as I lean back, arching my chest out and watch Samuels reactions carefully, disinterred in the proceedings to the casual observer.

My subjects are well aware I hold all of them to an exceptionally high standard and expect them to live up to my standards as much as possible. I'm proud of this place, and too possessive of it to let an infiltrator threaten it. My check in contract routinely roots out undesirables, but little domain's laws are hardly unique.

If people don't like how Thaddeus and I run things they can freely leave on their own reconnaissance. If I don't like their conduct, and they choose to test my patience they may leave in a variety of wooden boxes. Brutal, but it works I keep to the older way of doing things, for simplicities sake, it makes some of the older visitors more comfortable to feel that another 'elder' is in charge which adds to the mystic of my makers little parting gift.

To those young enough, those who have to rely on rumour, the laws and Thalia respecting me as an equal speaks volumes, and those volumes sums up neatly enough for anyone to understand. The heart of my system can fit on to post it. The blood is sacred, and don't shit where we eat. In essence that's it, so the price has to be high.

It's the subsections that take up the space. The binding charter each of them signs is more than a hundred pages long, and few actually do more than skim it, but really I'm not asking much from the new arrivals. Everyday things, like the treatment of donors and pets ( healthy and willing, that doesn't mean glamoured to the hilt). Prospective children, (investigated fully and brought before me) and how I fully expect them to at least attempt to be respectful and pleasant to everyone within the community we live. The last one is hard task, but in return for doing so they can get a reduced tribute and mediators for disputes.

All of the community must obey the laws I've set out in stone, and scattered though out the area. There's no excuse for ignorance when they're carved in every language spoken here.

There is one unofficial rule I have obeyed, one I've torn out a few tongues over …don't piss me off.

I might tear out Samuels tongue before the night is out if he continues to prattle on needlessly quibbling over non issues in a plodding fashion. Exasperated and too fed up with the bullshit to pander to it any longer I order him to be silent. My patience is as far from infinite as his mind is from complexity.

Informing him I know he's a spy has him worried, telling him that I don't care, invokes confusion. That I will continue not to care, so long as it is just a precautionary eye with no intent to harm any of my subjects, has him in a state of panic.

"any information you pass along is cleared by me, personally before you report in, and I want the name of your contacts. Do this and you can walk around freely, and count on my protection; until you leave". And you will be leaving, Samuel. How many bits you leave in is up to you my eyes add silently.

Wren shifts down the other end of the couch the perfect picture of a submissive child as he turns his back on Samuel and massages my feet. When my fangs drop again Samuel at long last remembers to address his questions to me, instead of my shapely legs as I ask a few questions of my own.

The direct approach gives me all the information I could want and more. This vampire is a defector in all but name. Contrary to my earlier assumptions, the coercion has little to do with his presence here. He came because life is believed to be very sweet under my rule.

I can't argue with that fact, but I still need to know what he is here for though. Time to go deep sea fishing

"Your master is not an easy one to serve, I've heard"

Heard ha , I've seen it played out a hundred times. The leaders amongst the renegades delight in keeping their people subjugated, tethered and terrified, human and supe alike. It's not surprising we have a steady stream of people seeking asylum.

If Samuel's overlord is looking this way, keeping up with the Joneses this spy is defiantly not. No matter what he's been told. I push further and within a few seconds I know this mans levers, his maker is one. That bastard Madden is using him to ensure his progenies cooperation, and return.

"I know about your situation… with Isaac" The incredulous look on Samuel's face is amusing

"I do have my own spies, Samuel, and I will see what I can do to help." A promise I feel fully justified in giving freely as I never say who I'm helping.

"So then, what do you want?" I enquire, expecting a slew of the usual selfish drivel that question brings.

A single gaze at Wren set his brain spinning with thoughts of trading one master for another. Impressed with the extent of my influence, he doesn't care if I prove to be a monster, as long as he can reap the rewards I secure.

I can see what he wants from me in my minds eye, what he yearns to bargain for but the ungrateful wretch won't dare voice the evil little desire. I might turn him over to the magister for simply speaking the words, and that truly scares him. A few well placed judgements have worked in my favour. I can still see it though… After centauries of obedience Samuel wants a more permanent freedom. Craves it so badly he's willing to do anything sell out anyone, including me.

If I remember his maker rightly, Samuel is correct in thinking he isn't ever going to gain his release from his conscientious maker. Isaac will know only too well a child like this will run riot once he has it. Isaac would rather stake them both before he lets that happen. I float deeper into the recesses of his memories for the cause of this divide between them. My search reveals that Samuel has been starved of more than just his freedom, he can't even be trusted to feed without killing. A cause of deep shame for his maker , yet perfect for me. We won't have to wait long for Samuel to violate my rules.

"I'll give you're your grace period to think it over in suitable accommodation. I like to see people content... Oh, and, Samuel… Please remove your devices from my area before the end of the night.

I hit jackpot, the mere mention of bugs set his mind on exactly what and where they were and one… Naughty boy. The one he just placed in my office wasn't so much for spying as seeing what Wren would look like writhing under me. He's not even aware Wren's mine.

"When your done reading your contract, you'll be given access to one of our willing AB donors for tonight, free and non gratis" That makes his greedy eyes light up. His gluttonous appetite fills his mind with possibilities and temptation. He's sure to sign his life away, without a glance. Trapping him into signing his own death warrant was too easy to even be called a plan.

It's well known that here plump well groomed companions can be legally arranged, for a hefty asking price. You don't find scabby over used fang bangers in any of my establishments. Supes and humans yes..but not the fang-bangers I remember from a certain club. Vampires looking for a quick fuck and feed can go else where. I'm not running a take out.

I wait for a moment unblinking but Samuel hasn't moved to remove the bugs. He's either a moron, or testing to see how far he can push me. That indecision buys me a few moments. Using the element of surprise I pin him face down on the floor, and break his spine before resuming my seat.

"I was being polite,"

Foolish man, he is trying to get to his feet, even as he heals (causing more damage to himself). I don't think he's foolhadry enough to attack me,

"because your new here, and this is a private audience. In future I expect my edicts to be followed immediately" Reaching under the table I pull out the bug just to see his eyes widen as I crush it between my fingers.

"and to the letter."

He starts to crawl towards me , planning to use the element of surprise to attack when he can finally stand. Standing over his prone form, I pin him again by his neck, my foot increasing the pressure on his vertebrae steadily. The violence is warranted, I need this animal to develop some manners, fast. Flicking the contents of my hand in the direction of the recycling gives me chance to dive deeper into his head and soon I'm deep enough inside his mind to plant a few ideas… He can only hear what comes from my lips.

To his maker that small subtle swell of worry and paranoia will feel perfectly natural for someone under constant surveillance.

"Remove all the devices before dawn, Samuel; and if any more are found you will be force fed them, and your fangs. Until you agree to be one of us, you are an out law. Remember that, and sign the contract. While you still can.."

And with that, I kick him across the floor and I return to my seat, letting my version of glamour take a steady hold in his mind. Leaving him petrified by me, this place, and how much I might know. If Samuel were human I'd have a puddle on my carpet right about now.

" Your current resting place is unsafe now you'd been compromised . Mark will take you to a safe house… You're finished here." The finality of those three words is echoing around his head. Aside from this being more of a power trip than is good for me, before he leaves I aim to send one last surgical shot of terror into his system.

"One last thing, Samuel, try not to disturb me between two and three thirty in future, or you may not have one. Run along now," I dismiss him with a flick of my hand "I doubt you were raised in a barn, Samuel. So this time, close the door behind you"

His head spins around fast enough to blur. Samuel had left it open hoping that my subject would hear me being intimidated. He presumed it would be easy, I was weak enough to hide behind my subjects from the Viking…

My careless spy has finally understood how hasty his plan to undermine me has been, even if I was a weak sheriff who allowed my subjects to dictate their own terms he wouldn't be popular for upsetting the apple cart, and as it turned out I wasn't weak at all.

In his mind the nights excitement was suddenly turned on it's head, and now Samuel believes he's been played like a fiddle. Eric's theatrics and my disinterest, as irrational they appeared, were a trap, bluff to flush out spies and power hungry upstarts… I won't correct his suspicion.

There will be a lot of intrigue floating about on the radio chatter tonight. Not that there isn't always. Hearsay had been plentiful since I took over. All of which is currently occupying Samuels brain fighting for attention and importance in his planned report. I find myself unwittingly in possession of quite the persona. Thaddeus is responsible for most of it I'd bet and soon those over inflated stories will make their way across the Atlantic.

If Samuel mentions that Eric is one of my double agents some good will come out of tonight's fiasco at least, though I doubt he'll let his masters find out he's been rumbled the second he set foot through the door. The other spies will in due course give themselves away too at the mention of me having my own informants, fearful that they like Samuel have also been compromised. In time they'll come to me on there own begging for mercy, assuming that Eric or someone else has sold them down the river as well. Sadly poor Samuel may not be here to see that. His every word has floated across the threshold to my retinues waiting ears, and three pairs of those ears are waiting for Samuel outside my office.

He can see them looming now by the shadows crossing the threshold, and is too scared to move past the door frame as if hiding in here will prevent what's coming. I give him a gentle shove in to their waiting hands. All they would like is the chance to inform the new boy how they'd feel about someone trying to ruin their playground.

He looks to me wide eyed and frightened hoping I'll call them off before they begin. Silly boy thinks a beating is the worst thing that could happen tonight. He hasn't quite understood what being an outlaw means I suppose the true term is too early for his experiences. I'm sure one of his new friends will take the time clear that matter up.

If Samuel has any sense of self preservation in that head of his, he'll tell those three his maker being held a captive and attempt to garner sympathy, before those hot headed youngsters decide to take the matter of a potential turncoat into their own hands. Doing so won't buy him any trust in my area, but it may save his life. Come nightfall, this would be spy should be scared enough to sell out his own monarch.

I wait until the sound proof door is closed before turning to my own child

"Anything I missed?" Telepaths working in tandem is a powerful thing.

Wren filters through the information and shakes his head. Speaking in code is safest. Wren knows how careful we have to be to keep our little secrets.

"If I had to do… the stuff he has" I ease myself onto the couch, and my foot rub returns for the last five minutes of my break.

"Past eras are like a different planet, Wren. Brutality is acceptably more common place there. Save your pity and stay away from him, baby. There is a very good reason Isaac has kept him on such a tight leash."

Running my fingers through his soft hair is a joy that makes his eyes sparkle. Sometimes I forget how sheltered he is here. In spite of what he went through our baby's still so tender hearted, a result of Thaddeus's influence more than my own. My second is adamant in his quest to shield our child from the worst of our kind. His relationship with Wren doesn't make me jealous, I can feel how deeply he loves me, and my baby would stay by my side all night if I let him.

"Go get yourself someone to eat, and Thaddeus when he has a minute"

Instead of calling for a donor my child snatches one of the bottles of blood from my hidden stash with impish glee, and speeds of to run amuck... Another thing Thaddeus is responsible for.

Wren's exit prompts me to start making myself presentable for the hour of paper work and nonsense, no-one said being in charge was painless.. It took me a year to get everything ticking over nicely, with the odd speed bump.

being dead forced me to become tech savvy out of shear necessity. I spent most of my nights on video phones and such like. Kingdoms need to stay in touch these days, so we can put out any wild fires before they spread. I'm loathed to admit computers make my night now we have the technology again They let me deal with the nightly grind in half the time it use to take, better still I can record and back up every conversation for future reference.

The lyrical rapping on my door could only be one person interrupting me when I'm working , my second Thaddeus. He's letting me know they're about to take the stage, so wretchedly he can't come in to help with the paper work… odd that when by my watch he's not due back on stage for another half an hour. Despite my annoyance my lips curve upwards in a smile.

Thaddeus hates administration with a passion his method of dealing with it is to pass it on to a willing horse, and failing that lighting a match. On top of that he is infuriating, and a compulsive liar by nature, or as he puts it a true thespian. With some dogged perseverance and insider knowledge you can trace his history back at least 700 hundred years before the physical evidence dries up. Which is interesting, on the books Thaddeus is listed as a belonging to a completely different era.

The official misinformation he spread is to hide his true age. Which works very well for him, people always assume he's younger than the nine hundred and fifty years old he lays claim to . It makes perfect sense to them, what vampire in their right mind wouldn't want to be known as an ancient?

Thaddeus, that's who. He's always been crafty.

Oh I know roughly how old he really is of course. My maker knew him, and clearly remembered smashing a statue over his pretentious head during the archaic period. Treasured the memory of rubbing his smug, self-righteous face in his own fresco during a brawl in the renaissance, and sought recompense in the fourteen sixties, after Thaddeus took a pair of scissors and…They could never play nice when they were younger, or middle aged, or….My maker didn't exactly take the high road. As soon as the two of them crossed paths their composure would crumble and they'd squabble like the teens they appeared to be. A case in point being last time they ran into each other my oh so mature maker fully blamed Thaddeus for starting the feud in the first place, and then filled his resting place full of ferrets and other foul smelling creatures the night he left the area.

His version of who started it might have a grain of truth to it, my second has always took up the mantle of the radical aiming to infuriate the maximum amount of people possible. In many ways Thaddeus is an over grown child, contrary and playful by nature. Craving the attention his subversive ideas brought. He needs the world to look at him, and because I make sure it does, he's content to do my bidding. I just ignore the theatrics and give him free rein to play the rebel within the politics he can't stand, and pretend to be unaware of what he's up to for convenience sake.

In return he is my own personal spin doctor. He does so love this version of the status quo, and is dead set on making sure nothing threatens it. In his own histrionic ways of course, the over exaggerated stories he tells about me being one of them.

Thaddeus, swears blind that shortly after we first met, he and I fucked like animals on top of an alter, after draining a few priests. He claims I was passing myself off under a different name of course. Apparently during spectacular sex I tied him up, had my way with him, a few acolytes and escaped in his clothes as the soldiers arrived. That story is a personal favourite of his, and gets wilder every time he tells it. The only time I was able to stop him wildly inflating my crimes was an accidental slip of the tongue…

"You attracted their attention by tossing my burning clothes out the window." That crabby remark slipped out before I realised I'd said it. He paused and just for a second, it could have been a trick of the light, but I could swear I saw his lips twitch to repress a sly smile before he pretended to be affronted. Thaddeus hasn't told that story when I'm in earshot since, but I keep catching hints of the versions he tells when the younger vampires ask me about the truth of that night. I just smile dreamily, and say Rachel is a very lucky woman. Unfortunately for me the curious ones aren't put off that easily, and they go and ask Thaddeus any questions evade and will not answer. He gets a lot of entertainment from that.

He's successfully muddied the facts about our history no one is sure who I am, what my name really is, or where we're from. They dare not ask me (on Thaddeus's recommendation) and have to turn to bootleg copy of a certain program.

That damn database is a piece of crap. Thaddeus is erroneously listed as four hundred, and I supposedly existed long before Christ was born. Oddly enough a few other people murmur that I'm older than it claims, and they have a faint recollection of glimpsing me through the centuries as well. So much for vampires 'perfect' memories.

I tend not to put much stock in the vampiric phone book, it really is shoddy work. It's so inaccurate, it even lists Thaddeus as having no gift. Which demonstrates the laziness of it's author and the lack of valid research that went into that piece of twaddle. All vampires are gifted to some extent, I might write a paper on it one day. Some vampires gifts are just sneaky.

Thinking of sneaky, I'm unsure what gifts my seconds progenies posses. Elusive as Thaddeus's is I may just have to ask them. Until I find a legitimate reason to ask I can watch and wait. Rachel's will be the easiest to uncover with her streak of vanity.

Like her maker she obsessively needs to be adored, I have to admit she works hard at that goal and her charming smile with a singular determination. She is quiet the chameleon when it comes to making sure she is loved by everyone. The club never reached these heights of popularity in the days before she took the stage. Thanks to her efforts there is crowd out front of the building an hour before we open every night, and a fair few of them are there hoping to be in her bed before morning light. Considering Thaddeus's own temperament he can hardly complain about her competitive love of the lime light. The rift between them is healing, slowly, and her put on airs with me have yet to cause further friction.

She is more secure in her life here of late, and less temperamental. Most likely because her maker is no longer sharing my bed on a regular basis , than her accepting Thaddeus's stonewalling when she questions our bond.

Gradually the piano and saxophone horns fade away and my two favourite men strolled in

"Has he brought you up to speed?" Wren gently pushes to door closed, it's all go tonight but no need for the others to hear what I'm about to say

"I'd like Mark to keep an eye on our new best friend. We've worked too long and hard to create peace for Victor to shatter it"

If I still had a pulse watching Thaddeus fangs shoot out at that name would make it race.

"Another plot..." It amazes me how much Wren mimics him, even down to that petulant twang in his voice when he's asked to do something he'd rather not.

"Three heads are better than one. We'll all watch him Sherriff" Thaddeus is many things but above all he is smart, devoted and dependable . All of that is wrapped in a delicious tuxedo covered package. I'd call him Gods gift to women where sex is concerned, if it wouldn't over inflate his ego.

"Brilliant bullshit won't cut it Thaddeus .Tread carefully; I'm not sure what his mission is yet"

That expression of his is a way of telling me I could at least take a guess,

"Victor has sent a dog to make a mess on my nice clean floor…That is if the incompetent spying isn't just an act. There may be a competent saboteur waiting in the wings while we're distracted"

" I'll put the word out, sheriff."

He might despise the ambitious political manoeuvring but Thaddeus would make a fine Sherriff and an even better King. The regal presence he extrudes screams authority. For now he's comfortable resting his head somewhere soft, and spending a century or two tinkering with his toys. I can understand that.

" Since I've been ordered to duty tonight-" that devious tone of his really can puddle a nun, worked well enough back in the day.

"-you're going to the museum for Ashley " .

He's already making ready to bolt through the door. "Hold it!" Leave it to Thaddeus to use threat of invasion to wriggle out of that . Might as well see what I'm in for.

"Is the crisis priceless , or a national treasure"

A sunny smile is my only answer as my second rounded and shut the door, with my child following close behind.

I'd bet a fair amount that the curator of our singular museum had found another yet another student he would very much like to be convinced to stay in the country, possibly the here after

Becoming a maker to solve his staffing problems was not the brightest idea Ashley has ever had, and he has had some regrettable ones. By God I hope it's not another prospective child, we really can not sustain a growing population yet. Then again, when he is happily preoccupied I don't get my ear talked off about the importance of preserving history. His funding occasionally crops up, and the mad cap notion to raid Venice as it is slowly sinking. (I've made certain he no has a passport, and unless a certain someone goes behind my back and acquires a small aircraft for him, again... After what happened with the Vatican archives if I have my way he never will have the means of leaving the country. )

The screech of tires breaks my train of thought and lets me know to expect another flurry of tickets tomorrow. Wren comes back to kiss me, and activate the wards as he takes off. I'll see him later at the cottage. Knowing the danger tonight might bring I almost call him back to me, but because I want him to feel that I trust him, I let him go and it breaks my heart.

I try to work but it's too quiet when there's no music or people, I know I won't settle here. I dislike the feeling of standing in an empty nest too much. So much for contacting Elliott, another day shouldn't hurt. I'm finishing up anything that can't wait and then Thalia can close up. By tomorrow night she'll have seen to it the cleaning staff have the place gleaming as per usual, I can invite the magister to come then. Would it be rude if I asked a few of the staff to work their magic on my little car to? Probably. I should scrap it really, my car's seen better days but it knows me and it's mine. The yellow submarine (as Thaddeus calls it) knows the route to the best piece of inspiration I'd ever had so well it can drive itself there.

When I invested in property this wasn't what I had imagined using it for. I'd just thought why not when I could buy them at a steal. They were laying derelict and it was a shame such beautiful old buildings were going to waste. Restoring them became a hobby, a habit. A lack of local storage facilities in the area started something I'd never considered doing.

I arranged a few of the vampires from around my area to store some of their collected items in an old church I had converted a few years prior to free up light proof spaces. Humans were curious about the medieval church being used as a glorified warehouse, so I let them poke around to allay any suspicions.

They started to come back to look again, and brought their friends to get a closer look at the strange artefacts they'd never seen before. All free of charge of course. It was an instant hit with the local humans.

It was perfect, the vampires got to display a little vanity and suitably impress the world with their wonders and remind the humans what the world had once been like, it was a passing novelty at best I thought, but it couldn't go on as it was. It needed organising beyond the vampires who lived there. The humans didn't object to our use of a holy building when they understood it could mean well paid jobs for the community. Once word of it spread it became quite a popular novelty, and people from further afield came to poke around.

It got away from me a bit as our nocturnal population increased. Vampires were beginning to camp outside in the church graveyard with their own collections and give lengthy explanations of the more obscure items (for a nominal fee of course), hoping it would gain them access to one of my safe houses as I had done for the first set. Then a few humans took it upon themselves to provide refreshments to make a quick buck, providing games for the children was another popular venture. It was turning into a three ringed circus.

The little village church rapidly needed to become two, and an old town house , a barn , a stately home hadn't even finished restoring... In the end I gave into the tantrums bought exorbitant amounts of land to build from the ground up and house it all.

Not being a fan of the media I asked a suitably tactful vampire to front it publically as I sat back and watched the fun. The opening was spectacular, everyone wanted a piece of it.

Soon it wasn't just my area, Russell paid us a visit and not to be out classed after seeing it for himself he practically forced me to include his vast array of interesting nick-nacks .To show all of us armatures how collecting was done. He charges a small fortune for the privilege of displaying his collection, and occasionally pieces of our own are 'borrowed', in the name of inter kingdom relations but Russell's seal of approval ensured others clamoured for their place in the public eye.

I had hoped to move everything into the museum and get my houses back but I've had to keep the village outlets as they are when protesters chained themselves to the gates. It didn't get more than a paragraph in the papers until embarrassingly it got around that a vampire (Ashley) was joining them nightly, and supplying the protesters with tea and biscuits.

That hilarious little gem of publicity got even more attention, suspicion and eventually money thrown our way until we could afford to keep the historic buildings running as well. (I'm sixty percent sure that is what Ashley was up to in the first place, well maybe thirty percent no twenty. It's best not to speculate what goes on in that head of his)

As a set up it's faultless, Ashley is kept too busy to cause trouble, and visitors (alive and undead) flock world wide to see the monster museum filled with ever changing private collections. All of it gets government subsidies and legal protection.

Nan Flanagan (may she rest in peace) can eat her heart out. I managed to get good will and pr all round, and none of the yahoos can say a word without pissing off the national heritage and conservation societies world wide.

The only rub it's never big enough according to Ashley. Last week he was muttering about needing interactive technology and more shelving space in the library.(I disagree, eight stories, not including the three levels of underground storage, is enough. That tiny library is bigger than the stately homes I own, and I refuse to extend it again). Interactive technology is a job I'm delegating to our resident pack-master, he charges a small fortune for the work nevertheless, Ashley and electrics in the same sentence worries me. Ashley isn't the only manic that my museum is the ideal distraction for though.

You wouldn't know I'd had to order my thespian away from what he considers to be his shiny new toy with the way he goes on .

"I will not talk about that time again. I did not like it, periods with indoor plumbing are my favourite by far" Outrageous liar. A case of sour grapes I think since he's banned from the museum until certain items are returned. (So he's contained himself there every moment he can spare to prove a point. I honestly can't think of a better way to funnel his mischief).

It took me a week to find out what Thaddeus had been doing after we opened, and it was confirmed when Ashley stormed into my office insisting incoherently that I let someone else have a turn. I heard of Thaddeus's contributions second hand through the pictures and thank you notes. Ashley's rant merely gave me the fine details. A twisted tale involving pokers, pork, melons, siege weapons( Gods knows why but pomegranates and bananas cropped up) and an enthusiastic retelling of a revolution .

Thaddeus had revelled in his contribution. A stage, a 'requisitioned' (stolen) throne badly disguised as a comfy chair and a mini fridge full of the finest blood (from my private stash) which any vampire could go to if they wanted a snack .The catch was they would tell a story about what it was like living in the times before and since they were turned. This idea was a stroke of genius it turned out, the humans loved it .Ashley however was less amused by the mayhem.

"Museums are supposed to be a place of reverence, and he breaks the locks on the cases …and lets them… touch things." Ashley added, as though history being handled might bring about the end of the world.

Further more he demanded of me that Thaddeus was not allowed to tell any more plague stories, adding a please to the end of that order as an after thought. The smell of vomit lingered apparently and two axes had yet to be found. Found by Ashley that is, I from the letters I received later on I knew that at least one of them went home with a school group, and is currently hanging in pride of place in the hall.

Not an appropriate for a primary school but the poor woman who brought the children had no idea how to give it back to the maniac that declared it the sole property of Year Three, to be used in case of roman invasion, and if he happened to remember where he left the shield they could have that too, once he had the beautiful ladies home address …..I should have had a warning label tattooed on my second decades ago.

Needless to say every boy who heard about Thaddeus wanted to come after they heard about that incident. Free weapons, we were the coolest thing ever. When certain groups started to kick up a fuss about children coming our popularity spun out of control.

I had thought about putting a stop to it all when some of the natives got restless and demanded an audience. Surprisingly they were vampires from the other end of said dust ups Thaddeus had been enthusiastically retelling, and they protested complaints of favouritism. Claiming they had a few stories to tell as well, and demanded to do just that. Showing just how long our kind can hold a petty grudge.( I've learned not the ask about sports matches.) Some nights the doors on our museum don't close but it gives some of the more pessimistic vampires something positive to do.

I've had to hire four witches eight vampires and six film students and gods know how many other humans to deal with all the requests about our wonderful monster this week alone. On the surface everything is rosy. Anyone who actually works there knows it is a health and safety nightmare of course, but considering we heal from just about anything I turn a blind eye to the chaos that erupts when ever Thaddeus gets involved. He encouraged other vampires to volunteer, our charter states they could half their tribute if they contribute to public services like for example, education…

Historical education my round ass, it's nightly proof that nothing really changes when we're turned. Boys and their toys. I had to put my foot down when some of the more enthusiastic volunteers started showing kids how to make homemade gunpowder, for fireworks…I should have guessed he was leading up to showing them how to fire the cannons . The oddly shaped window in the wall is a reminder why things like that should be done outside in future, and that catching a canon ball is not like catching a football. Not that being blasted though a wall has stopped his fun.

When I get round to it I'll just have to have the place warded against breakages, it'll cost less. Another excellent reason for warding the place is Talbot designed that new wing free of cost for us last year. Russell and he visit his triumphant creation occasionally. I'll freely confess that the place looks magnificent, and oddly temple like in the centre of our huge wild life park. I can just see it as I pull up, and from the voices I hear in the night air, I'm not alone.

The commotion I've been summoned for is easy to spot really with the large crowd of on lookers near the new building.

The moons not full yet but I can tell most of them are the local packs. They must be camping in the territory surrounding our museum. I'm tempted offer accommodation for the runs being here, it keeps the deer population down.

Sadly our curator Ashley was also present in the throng, with bared fangs and several detainees on a decidedly damp patch of the marble paving, a selection of 'early campers' were enjoying the show.

It didn't take long to find out that the crisis was about the roof. The recurring damage problem that had been deeply upsetting our usually amiable professor to the point of one of his 'moods' wasn't so much down to over eager enthusiasm, as it was literal daylight robbery. The gang had been harvesting valuable materials for scrap, until they were spotted.

Ashley passed into a rage long before I arrived. His mood was not improved upon learning that

"No; you're not allowed to drain the heathens who dared steal the copper wire".

"Or behead the one who chipped your beloved Hathor statue during the attempted getaway",

And that making use of the exhibits loaned from York was completely out of the question.

"By the way, Ashley. They did ask for those back… sometime last February. Without blood on them."

He could however notify the police that this was a malicious act. Maybe cause trouble for the group of annoyances with a class action lawsuit for the damage, but that would mean returning the items he'd borrowed from other museums so they could independently verify...

It was a complete non starter, and Ashley still wanted a literal pound of flesh for each item damaged. It is like arguing with a toddler when he gets in one of those moods. If I left Ashley to his own devices there would be another set of bodies in the peat bog .

I was beginning to suspect I'd be calming him down till past dawn.

The shifters mercifully offered to bounce the captives down to the police station, so that my new favourite human could 'discuss her dissertation' with the professor before they turned in. An offer I was grateful for, Kelly would *ahem* handle him so I could handle my other concerns.

A few brief visitations, pick ups and check ins later and my night was almost done, or it would have been if my second hadn't cheerfully informed me we had another problem child to deal with. As much as I loathed to push Thaddeus to take a more active role than he wants to, I offloaded the setback to his in box. I had enough to deal with already.

As soon as I ended the call I regretted the way I barked at him, a belly full of irritation with the latest string of spies had me ready to lash out at the first opportunity, and I'd done it to the person who deserved it the least. I needed to feed , soon. Eric was sure to strike quickly, capitalising on my shock and the element of surprise. Keeping calm would be the best weapon at my disposal,

When I felt my child's alarm and pain I forced myself to feed and continue as normal before trundling off. Our counter attack depended on it. This Eric was unstable if predictable, he wouldn't kill my child, he'd ransom him to me first then use him against me, and I was too on edge to maintain any level of control over my emotions.

I could sense Wren was alone in the day chamber as I approached, restrained but largely unharmed at the moment, imparting my sense of calm was the best option, and a little pleasure along side it to dull the aches. My child sent back caution, a hint of smugness was concealed inside his telepathic message. Eric chose his own special way to vent his feelings on the scents in our bed. He destroyed it, and most of the upper levels of the house. Tearing apart my garden, smashing windows and leaving boot prints and mud all up the path for good measure.

According to my child the Viking was livid, and just a tad jealous.

It made my fangs itch that I let Eric violate my cottage in this way, and that, that ass who had haphazardly trampled on my sanctuary was still here. I could feel him lurking downwind for my reaction. He wasn't getting the one he wanted from me. I put the anger on the back burner and let it simmer for later.

"I haven't been tackled yet, so I can only guess he went straight to trying to con you into his bed, Eric." It felt odd talking to him with a different voice but hearing the good old Louisiana drawl creeping through it will make him bolder, and far less cautious.

As if on cue the cock sure Viking emerged from the enclave he lurked in

"You really should hide your resting places better"

I do, not that it was any of his concern. No one knows where I rest, some of my subjects titter that I must be a day walker since I've been known to work well past dawns light and rise in places I should never have been able to get to. The answer to how that trick is preformed is blindingly easy, so no one has guessed it yet, but everyone knows one crumb of information. This is where I secluded my nest after Wren was made. Eric hasn't acknowledged that this known only because I wish it to be.

I scent the air , and smell a blend of blood, sex and death wafting from Eric on the stiff breeze. He'd find out why Wren and I lured him to Spider Cottage for this little rendezvous soon enough.

"How long have you been here, Eric"

It's not a question; my nose tells me he's been here long enough to fuck and drain the decoys I left. Long enough to trash the place, and eat his way through the fridge while he made himself cosy. Assuming it really is was my resting place Eric doesn't realise he's spent the last few hours gorging himself on tainted blood.

That infantile smirk of his makes a reappearance as I right my apple tree before it falls over.

"A while" he snort impatiently. As if I had been discourteous for making him wait all night to kill me. God, I've seen pack-masters with less bravado than Eric. Dealing with this on a full stomach was a sensible idea. If I hadn't gorged myself before coming the scent of Wren's blood on Eric's hands would have pushed me over the edge of sanity and into bloodlust. This place is mine. Wren. Is. Mine, and he… they can't have them. I crave to strike back, but I can hold my iron clad control long enough to collect my thoughts. Rationally I know the former sheriff of area five could have done a lot worse to me and mine tonight.

This whole act of his is a set up, it has to be. Eric wants me off balance, emotional, hurt; it's his tried and tested way to gain the upper hand, and to do that he's poking at my weak spots. That alone is cause to keep a cool head, though it doesn't stop me wanting to make him scream for every second he harmed my child..

I can fake a pleasant smile to conceal my intent, Lord knows my face has enough practice over the years. That inaudible snort wasn't needed to tell me how much my casually cool demeanour was getting to Eric.

"Is my house going to need new cleaners as well, Eric?" My voice doesn't give my emotions away now either, though it enrages me further to even contemplate that Eric's death would merely be a substitute for who I really want to kill.

With a pointed look at his muddy boots I deliberately let his posturing pass me by. Tempting as it is to strike back immediately I need to play for time. If he wants to talk first (because a vampire a fraction of his age should be no threat to him) I should encourage it, and a tiny part of me wants to give Eric a second chance. To let him prove himself to be better man than the one she knew so long ago.

I'll take the time and gladly let him get what ever it is off his chest before I end this farce. Who knows what might come of it? In all the time we knew each other I don't think he and I ever have had a proper conversation as equals.

I doubt that's what Eric has in mind tonight. The only reason he hasn't attacked me yet is he wants to see me afraid of him. Walking away from him is a dangerous gambit, but also the best chance of getting him back inside. He'd feel foolishly secure having been in twice already without feeling ill effect.

If Eric's infinite knowledge no longer included the word trap, it would soon as he follows behind me like a dog. Oblivious to how he's already lost this fight long before I arrived.

Drugs that affect vampires are few and far between but they do exist. My maker wouldn't have used them, but I have my favourites, and two of them are swimming in Eric's blood system now. It's a cocktail of my own making and virtually undetectable, as the effect of both drugs together mimics our blood lust perfectly. The trick is to keep the victims brains active enough to ignore the symptoms and then... The progress of my concoction is slow, subtle, and by the time it takes strong enough hold for the victim to notice often it's too late for them to do anything. It's more of an equaliser than a weapon really.

I don't need to provide any distraction this time, Eric's wound himself tight all by his lonesome. Just to be on the safe side though I plan to get under Eric's skin a little, to make sure he doesn't smell a rat...

"Did you lock up after you snuck out the bar, Eric" I ask in my best approximation of a southern belle lilt. I can almost see him relaxing upon hearing it. Damn it was too easy to slip back into that way of talking, he won't know it's a deliberate ploy, rather than a reaction to being caught. Let him think he's dealing with the woman he always underestimated, the end result will be far more satisfying that way, and yeah that same part of me that quells my instincts wants to see the man from those memories is still in their somewhere.

"Spending the night hiding. I never took you for a coward" His fangs drop and his stance shifts he's expecting a me to run, not fight, and my hope for congenial conversation went out the window. The second I show any reaction he'll seize upon it looking for a way to justify whatever it is he winds up doing to me.

So I starve him of that logic, and nonchalantly walk rather than run to what had once been my sanctuary. There was no need for me to retrieve the key out the bird box, the had bastard smashed my front door to splinters and is gallingly proud of his handy work. The self-indulgent smirk of his sees me determined to wipe that look off his face if it's the last thing I do.

"You could see I was attending to someone else, and as you were told, repeatedly, the sheriff was busy and would see you another night. We didn't want you around to make a scene. Can't have you ruining all our plans" I'll make sure he can't screw them up more than he already has, just him being here paints a target on my ass.

"And what pretty plans they are." Prick… he knows nothing of my plans, and all of what he would do with the resources I weald.

" There are those who are very interested in how you get all of your information Sherriff Carter" He purrs with a knowing glint in his eye. "and how useful it could be under their command…"

Staying calm, remembering that Eric is only trying to get a rise out of me is getting harder. That jerk thought he had me on the run, that I'd bow down and plead for him not to reveal my secret. I ignore him and shove the splintered remains of my door out of my path.

The inside of the cottage is virtually unsalvageable. Broken debris and boot prints litter the house, and the light proofing hangs loosely from the hinges. I laugh at his strategy, it's so juvenile, so one dimensional, so…conspicuous. As succumb to my day death, he would unearth my hiding place to the morning sun and attempt to push his way through the ranks by the vacuum of power my death would create. Though now he is salivating over the notion of simply dragging me off to be a play thing, greedily anticipate the rich rewards that could bring when he uses my talents for his own ends. Hmm he must have day walkers at is beck and call for that plan, of that there is no doubt. The only question is if they were willing or coerced.

I throw my purse into the corner to free my arms and retort

"have you ever heard of using greed?"

Under Eric's scrutiny I hang up my jacket perforated with the stench of mud and blood unnecessarily arching my back as I remove the pins from my hair letting it tumble around me . I forgo removing my shoes as I answer his stare with a flat one of my own and in a breathy voice that peaks his attention I whisper

"Lust perhaps Eric?" trail my fingers daintily over the ribbon that conceals my neck, and teasingly along the severely modest shoulder of my dress.

"Corruption is also a firm favourite . I'm sure those can't be new techniques, Eric" Just a statement, not a lie.

I strut further inside to investigate what remains of my fridge and he watches every muscle that moves, other motivations are unwilling sparking behind his eyes due to his building bloodlust.

As I toss the remaining empty bottles behind me into the recycling I find there is nothing left. Eric has drank my house dry which wouldn't have surprised me if he'd arrived earlier that night.

Did he simply indulge his gluttonous tendencies, two bottles of that quantity would satisfy even a child like Wren's hunger. Still, for Eric to devour all ten bottles in one sitting and to drain all the humans that had been here… did the one long forgotten vial of fae blood push him to in a frenzy? Unlikely, the blood in that vial was decades old. Spoiled and dead, but the possibility is there. Gluttony is most likely the reason though, the cocktail the bottles were laced with won't have affected until much later.

"Even without certain assets, information's easy to acquire, Eric. Dangle the right carrot weight and a little bird sings you all the rest" when he's not tied up that is. I send reassurance through our bond and in turn am called to ignore the Viking. To come to bed and play. Thaddeus is a terrible influence. Sometimes I wonder why I love him so much. I can hear him chuckling away at my exasperation through our bond. All I can do is let out a sigh, and hush my baby though our bond as I gauge my opponent.

Eric didn't need to drain the humans he found here, the way he's staged them around my home in a macabre puppet show. That cruel twist more than demonstrates that he has been in sound enough mind to realise that the human could have been glamoured to forget his face, but he instead chose to murder them. If I wish it that malicious act could be his undoing tonight. The penitents I keep here are booby trapped deliberately with a different kind of concoction, a lethal one. It prevents the locals from draining V dealers before they've finished paying their debt to society. Each one of those lives had value, though not the kind of value he assigned to them.

In all these years he hasn't changed in the way his maker hoped he would, and he proved it tonight. Eric murdered everyone in the cottage but Wren. Assuming they meant something to me when he found them here. Thankfully Thadeus shared a greater quantity of blood with Wren than I did tonight, and Eric was convinced by my child's pleas that he belongs to my second. Eric has no doubt kept him alive, as a source of information. A fall back plan in case he should he be discovered.

"Since you didn't have manners, Eric; and already ate me out of house and home…"

Pushing the corpse out of Thaddeus's arm chair to sit primly, and gesture for Eric to sit also, he snarls in response. I'm certain if Eric had known for beyond a shadow of a doubt that Wren was mine, he would have ended him to spite me for how he lost Pam.

"What do I owe the dubious pleasure of your company to"

Translation why are you here Eric.

I poked around in his head when he refuses to answer.

Had he come to usurp the area I query. Yes: It was a tempting target, and Sheriff Carter was rumoured to be a soft touch by his employers and their accomplices. They're no doubt aiming to have a slew of backstabbers do their dirty work for them.

Sheriff Carter has made the area profitable enough to peak Eric's interest, but the second that blood thirsty Viking sees this body he changes his plans from employment, to cold blooded murder instead, nice.

I wait for a verbal answer, the longer he messes me about the less chance he has. The drugs should kick in fully soon an then…But until that moment I need to stay in control of this conversation, keep him talking without letting slip my little secret. Eric might have learned to place his own listening devices

"Dallas" he snaps

That topic ended my suspicion of being overheard, seriously? One word out of his mouth and want to kick him, hard. Pride is only thing keeping my tongue in check. He blames me for that debacle? It was his fault, and his schemes. Eric should have never have interfered.

He looks ready to shake apart, fuck his pity party and this I'm not talking until you do game. I want to set a few things straight and why not, soon Eric should start to loose feeling in his extremities. The drugs I loaded the donors with make us burn up fuel faster, it's a gradual build up so innocuous vampires don't register it , unless they've felt it before.

"You make it sound like humans had a choice in Dallas, Eric"

"You abandoned him" and I hear the other under lying cry in his mind. You abandoned me, just like Godric abandoned him without a word…

"You made certain she had no choice but to volunteer to walk into that viper pit with an armed traitor at her back. Abandoned! Bragging about your new asset sold the human out to Newlin before she even left Louisiana."

He glowered long enough to show he didn't believe me "You got a message out."

Yeah for all the good it did me. Barry hung himself at the first opportunity. My fault, I was too terrified to be alone so I left the link open… and then I couldn't shut it. He saw and felt every disgusting thing they did to me as though it was his own body, and chose the only way he could think of to escape what was happening.

"Beaten to within an inch of her life and trapped in that cell she didn't have a choice but to try. Bill was the back up, and for some strange reason, Eric… He couldn't call in the cavalry. Ironically I'd been counting on the idea a lover would have gave a damn that their human was in trouble. What the fellowship did to her went on long enough for me to see my mistake, and how little either of you cared for the wellbeing of humans, no matter how useful they could be."

Eric didn't care enough about his asset's well being not to destroy my safety net. He went out of his way to ensure that when Sookie Stackhouse needed saving, no-one would be there.

"Something did bother her in that filthy cell, Eric. She fretted that the whole careless situation had been planned for a darker purpose, when a sheriff himself deliberately informed the fellowship a telepath was coming"

Did I just see what I thought I saw? It was gone almost instantly but the look on his face made me question if something finally reached through that thick skull. Even if it hadn't Eric's skin looks like paper now the spell is activated. The oversized idiot doesn't realise that my presence in the cottage is the trigger for the spell. I scrutinise him closely to distract myself from the memories that plague me Just a little more time and I can take him down.

"With armed traitors watching there wasn't much else Godric and I could do. No one was coming for her or the vampires held captive, and then she reached out and somehow found another head she could talk to. Life or death situations tend to make humans desperate" I'm actually anxious to dig in Eric's head and find out what he thought he was doing bringing that bitch Lorena to Dallas even though I should thank him for it, if Bill had come it would have turned into a blood bath.

"She never abandoned him. You left us all to die, but there was someone there at the end. She was too far gone to care why or how she was found. She assumed vampires were attracted to the blood, or heard her screaming. Imagine her surprise, a vampire of all things gave a damn that a human paid the price for your little scheme . Tried to heal her after they had… "

Swallowing heavily and straightening my shoulders, I glared. I wouldn't give Eric the satisfaction of watching me relive the horror of my last night as a human.

Lingering on how much my death benefited me washes away some of the trauma of that night but not the resentment. I don't have the same capacity to detach from my emotions as my maker did, although truthfully I wouldn't want to live my life half alive, but such an ability would come in handy for moments like these.

"There wasn't enough left of her to give consent to it after Newlin's little gang had finished. They'd had their fill of torturing the fang-banging traitor long before Stan rode in to save the day. How is he by the way? The invitation is still open to him should he want to stay"

My mood is threatening to boil over with this topic of conversation. If Eric so much as tries to exuviate away his part in that massacre I may loose what control I have and take my chances here and now with a kitchen knife.

" At least she wasn't burnt alive like Newlin insisted upon seeing, instead she got something she never asked for" I didn't need to ask, he was trying to heal me, not turn me. To this day we still don't know how I wound up six feet under.

"After she was rose the girl couldn't reach her contact, or hear, well anything at all" both true; Barry had been dead for a full day when I rose, and the area had been abandoned pending the police investigation, coupled with the fall out from my unique turning.

"and was given the revelation that she couldn't keep the scraps cloth she had left on her back anymore."

They were found by the cadaver dogs the police set loose of course. Evidence of my human blood in the cell but no corpse had the media blame the vampires, until someone found by chance that cell was peppered with human semen. Out in the grounds the dogs zeroed in on the burnt earth of my grave and the remaining scraps of cloth drenched in yet more evidence…

Abduction torture, rape…The suggestions made the police investigation very interesting. Especially when some of the men in question tried to negotiate their way out of trouble, claimed that they weren't responsible. That they had been hypnotised into committing those acts….

"No-one heard from the girl after that night "

Hugo and Jason's turned on the fellowship when it got serious, and Flanagan got her hotshot lawyers to crucify Newlin with their testimony. The sob story she told of the pretty little blonde's abduction sealed the V.R.A. with a kiss. No justice for Sookie's rape and murder though, Gabe and friends still walked on those charges.

It was too late to take revenge on them when I found out a stacked jury helped them escape justice, but the man who knowingly hid the truth about Bill from me. The man who'd dragged me into that mess and sent me to my death. He was sitting less the four feet away attempting to hide how light headed he is.

I can mentally hear Eric running through the list of faces at the Dallas. Which one of them could have beaten him to the punch. So many vampires stormed the church that night, but Bill wasn't amongst them, he claimed I was already dead. Thinking straight was pretty hard for him by this point. He's swaying slightly but he doesn't notice that, still too preoccupied with the hallucinogenic flash backs to see his hand are becoming skeletal. From the colour of his eyes the drugs have started to establish momentum.

"You could have called me when you were released…I should have" How sweet … he finally managed to look remorseful. If Eric's face is a picture, I'm tempted to think of it as a forgery. From experience I'm well aware he's an exceptional actor when he wants to be. I could be mollified that there was a trace of guilt for his actions in Eric's mind, or by how his queen had expressed her displeasure at his 'misplacement' of the only known telepath in existence, as only a disgruntled monarch knows how.

The open look of regret is marred by the self pity, and antipathy in his head.

Expectations that I should have come begging to him were unrealistic; he never knew Sookie and he didn't care to and she never bothered to look back at the shattered remains of her life. I doubt he held respect for any human at that time and place.

"You should have been honest with her about the procurers mission from the start." Not that it would have change anything for the better. I'd still have been just another human toy to him. The room feel back into silence, it was an old trick for humans. They try to fill up the void with life.

The accent and the disguise of the matronly little church dress I thrown on was working, all he could focus on was sweet little human Sookie. Mentally he'd pigeon holed me as a figure head. Perfect, he'd dropped his guard just enough for me to slip in and have a good old rummage while he played the waiting game , prodding the odd thought and memory along to keep him wound tight.

There was nothing useful in his mind that I didn't already know about the renegades. My poker face got a good work out when I saw exactly how he fell in with them. Who'd have thunk it, my laid back second is actually capable of being vengeful and jealous. He'd forced Eric out into the cold

Eric had fallen into down time while I mucked on. The tiny bit lament I unearthed for his behaviour in Dallas wasn't enough of an apology. I was still furious that Eric dared lay a finger on my child, and thought he could still make demands of me like I was worthless. Blaming my disappearing act for the shit hole he made his life. He was lucky, if it had been anyone else involved I'd have staked them on principal instead of vanishing for the face of the earth. To rub salt in my wounds he was regretting that he hadn't got the chance to fuck the telepath before I was turned.

He didn't think he needed to make amends for what he'd done to me now or then, because fate had been just as unkind to him. This behaviour was inexcusable I couldn't listen to it anymore.

I sent a mental kick to his early memories of Pam in petty revenge, and slapped my telepathy back in it's box before I did something to ruin what was left of the carpet.

The pain those memories brought slaked some of need for retribution, some. He couldn't fathom why I'd run from him tonight. He's completely clueless, or so I hope.

"Why would I seek you out. America held nothing for me except a faithless brother."

I snatch sly glace at the man who toyed with me in my human life as he looks around in disbelief that his limbs have withered as though he'd been drained and that his strength has almost left him. Gotcha, I was gloating unprofessionally but who the hell cares

I doubt Eric Northman has ever felt truly powerless before, and I'm going to enjoy having the upper hand for a while. The question is should I chain him downstairs before I go home, or chuck him in the sea. Hmm I haven't lived here for nearly a decade but I still don't want him here in my place and the coast is too far to drive before dawn. I want him dead but… the thought of it is disturbingly, unpleasant…Damn.

I rail against the waves of emotion that echo through me. I want justice, I want him sorry, I wanted him to pay…I'm fighting and loosing I have to remain calm...

The murderous wrath drains from me, I want… I want Eric to stop looking so lost. I want to walk away again, his very presence brings back my makers memories and emotions as well as hers. I'd rather not give into them, one way or another Eric has to go.

"I built a new life here and didn't want you in it, Eric." Fuck, I said his name in the old way. No matter just one slip, it will pass him by. So long as I avoid his name from now on.

"I've worked too long and hard to let incompetence hurt the people who look to me. Here's my offer. Forgetting the past will buy you a week, and not a day more than that for your attack on Wren. I want you gone, from my area and my sight, perpetually ."

He lunges forward to fall dramatically to the carpet. The charm on the cottage prevents him causing our nest harm, unless remove it by willingly feeding him my blood (which isn't going to happen).

In a matter of minutes the drugs will have him weak as a kitten. The first two would have weakened him only to give me a fighting chance at containing him; but the one he was never meant to imbibe…That one will drain the last of his life force until he's dead.

A quick kick knocks him out cold, habit makes me check his head for confirmation. There's no sense in letting him get up too soon. Despite how dangerous he is to us I can't force myself to end Eric while he lies there at my mercy. I can't kill him, but he needs to realise that soft southern Sookie has left the building or he will try to over power me again as soon as he wakes.

Harming my child to get to me is something I will not let go unpunished. If he had taken his temper out on me alone I would have pardoned this. Instead he will learn never to lay a hand on Wren again the hard way. I break bones like so many matchsticks, and his jaw for good measure as I bind him. Silver laced bindings will keep any vampire contained not that I need them. He's wasting away before my eyes as his blood consumes itself.

Dragging him out of the charms range, I then roll him onto his back. Pushing the antidote past his swollen lips is futile, he's to weak to swallow it. I have to hold his head in my lap and rub his throat like an animal to ease the foul smelling liquid down his gullet before throwing him into the car like I would a sack of dirty laundry. With Eric under control I have a more important person to see.

Call it prudence, paranoia or me being needy, but even with the Viking neutralised I want my Wren in arms reach of me. He buries himself in a corner of my mind as I free and feed him. I hold him tight, as though I'd never let him go. Satisfied by the love he feels from me, my imp races off toward the car before I order him to safety of our nest. I have no intention of it, doing so would be futile. He'd refuse to leave my side, needing my presence as much as I crave his, but no power on this earth will compel me to let him behind the wheel of a car. Not considering who taught him to drive.

Wren in the front seat, and a passed out Viking crammed on the back seat, was not how I'd pictured my this ending, and for the second time tonight I traipse off to the museum.

Ashley had been happy to see me again when I brought him a life size doll to play with. He practically danced the lifeless Eric down his my little dungeon set in the basement. Rambling about my general wiles, and how this treat must have been why he wasn't allow to keep the riffraff… I was so good to him. Ashley is hardly one of the strangest vampires you could meet here, but he is the one who's happiness is closest to my heart. As is customary after a gift, Ashley is too preoccupied setting up his new exhibit to listen to a word that is said I often find when a topic doesn't concern his obsession, Ashley's general rule of thumb is it is unimportant.

Our curator is an easy one to please. Getting him to return the items he's 'borrowed' in his endless quest to document the whole of sentient history on the other hand… A night with him is seldom boring, though at times he causes the havoc on a grandest scale. Thankfully no one has realised that most of Europe's crown jewels are excellent forgeries constructed over the centuries. who knows how long he has had the real ones for. Ashley does return them for state occasions, when he remembers.

Ashley is an easy sell because of his loyalty to me but it was a bit of work convincing Kelly that the poor man (Eric) had been a bad boy deserving of a time out. she was shocked when I said outright I respect her more for arguing with me, and tell her part of Eric's actions tonight. She lost all sympathy for the pitiable figure on finding he had choose to hurt and kill those who couldn't fight back , and cried when I gave her and Ashley my blessing.

I let her blink away her tears by pressing on asking her to remind her 'colleague' that the Viking was for display purposes only, not demonstration. My firm tone was lost in her soft looks towards her potential maker. With any luck I'll have a permanent supervisor for him who can run this place without forgetting the little things; such as the how the bank accounts I set up are not a petty cash box for his interns to dip into when they please. She's good for Ashley, even the supes who like him want her to stick around to keep an eye on him. The night she rises I am I'm tripling her salary, cause that poor woman has no idea what she's taking on and I plan to revoke her passport before she finds out.

"Kelly, please bolt the door and get back to bed, so at least one of us gets some sleep today. He'll have died and risen again before he notices we've gone. "

The indulgent smile says she already knows. Kelly will take to the life well enough, and she will care for Ashley regardless of if he is the one who turns her. A gruelling duty I'll never be able to repay her for. He needs someone to care for him. With dawn less then an hour away I want to lie in my own bed with a painful longing and I know that it's not possible. Why do I never get to rest in my own bed on a work night. I make one last attempt to see that Ashley joins us upstairs.

"Ashley, I shouldn't have to remind you"

Wrong person; while positioning Eric's face in the most aesthetically pleasing way he'd gone to his happy place. I might as well be talking to the wall. This is my cue to escape before he notices Kelly and I are still here and tries to get us to help.

I adore Ashley, I really do, the compliant version wouldn't contradict me if I said the sky was purple; the problem lies in getting information into his head in the first place. (I'm tempted to ask Kelly to investigate if you can medicate a vampire).

"Yes Sherriff, goodnight"

Ahh finally That's what I've wanted to hear.

I can't resist kissing Kelly on the cheek as I make my escape, and recommending that she try living with Ashley here before she lets him rush her into anything. That bipolar personality of his is difficult enough to handle on it's own, but his gift makes him a danger to himself. I've fixed of the doors and shutters with locks so we can secure a resting place when he gets fixated. Placing signs warning visitors of the exhibits closed for refurnishing.

So long as he is out of the light, Ashley can ignore the pull without ill effects but the second he slips into downtime it's lights out for Ashley. He dies immediately where ever he is, whatever he was doing. Such an inconvenience when your busy cataloguing.

The other volunteers have made some additions to the sign I wrote for the doors.

(Sleeping crazy vampire, for your own safety sanity do not disturb).

Upstairs I see Wren's already beaten me to the stone sarcophagus padding it with the bedding I keep in the car. He looks like any other sleeping teen. I slip my phones next to my sleeping boy and close the heavy lid.

I'd rather not die where someone could wake me to deal with yet another minor crisis so I go to use the bog. Not a prospect I relish. The marshland is always teaming with life but it was a place where I never felt deader, but with only this set of clothes on me I can't go to ground. Not that I enjoy doing that any better. Uhgh, I hate waking up covered in insects, give me a nice airtight coffin any night.

In the wet lands I'd kept a water tight one which I could sink into the peat. The out side is filthy and the inside stinks but at least I go to my day death relatively safe and dry. Humans aren't suppose to venture this far into the marsh. Some do even though we'd declared it too dangerous. Often we find them years later when Ashley goes diving for more artefacts.

As I latched the heavy lid shut I hear the swell of the water around me. It is tranquil on the bottom The light sensors and hidden cables would drag me up again at sunset. Until then my resting place is invisible, and heavily warded.

It might be light out by the time I'd settled in, but my mind was too full of memories to sleep.

Dallas.

That one word had uprooted a torrent of discarded emotions, from all of my memories. Eric had wanted me to call him. That was rich, and impossible, for the first years of my life I'd forgotten my own name.