A knock at the door catches my attention, and my eyes snap open, my gaze sliding over to the door. I slowly sit up and run my fingers through my hair. I glance at the clock sitting on top of the chest of drawers and see that it's just after half past three in the morning.
"Jesse, do you want a drink? I've got some of that synthetic stuff if you want some," Sookie says softly from the other side of the door.
"Yeah, sure," I say. "I'll be out in a minute."
I stand and unlace my boots, slipping them off and sitting them at the foot of the bed. I twist the doorknob, noting that it sticks just before it opens, and head out to the lounge room. Sookie's just coming out of the kitchen as I walk in and tosses me an unopened bottle. To humans, it would be blurry and unfocussed, but I can see everything clearly, completely in focus as it spins towards me. The bottle lands in my hand, despite the throw coming towards my knee, and I smile.
"You wanna sit down?" she asks, settling down in an armchair with a glass of wine. She turns on the TV, but leaves the volume low, the screen flickering conspicuously in the background.
I unscrew the lid of the bottle and toss it into the bin by the door, before sitting down on the couch on the other side of the room. I glance around the room as we sit in silence, until I feel her watching me. I glance at her and she looks away quickly.
"You know I'm not going to hurt you, don't you?" I ask, my eyes never wavering.
"I heard what Eric said," she says, bringing her eyes back to meet mine.
"I made more than one promise about your safety," I say softly, looking down at my bottle intently, not wanting my eyes to give away all my secrets.
"Bill?" she asks quietly, her tone a mixture of anger, curiosity, and possibly pride or maybe happiness.
I nod. "He loved you. More than you'll ever know," I whisper, finally looking up at her again.
"I think he loves you, too," she says with a small smile. "The way he held you back there, he did that with me, once. He's a gentleman, and he knows how to treat a woman right."
"He certainly does," I remark, looking into my bottle again.
"Jesse, how old are you?" Sookie asks after a minute.
"I died when I was fifteen," I whisper, not looking at her for fear of unwillingly letting it all out. "That was nine years ago. I'd say it feels like a lifetime ago, but it already is."
"So that makes you twenty-four. That's almost as old as me," she comments. "It must be strange."
"Yeah, it is pretty weird."
"Hey," Sookie says after a few minutes of relative silence, "what were you saying earlier about Eric leaving you? If he left you, surely he can't control you?"
"Oh, you know about that," I say, taking a long drink from my bottle, grimacing at the taste, and placing it carefully on the table in front of me. After almost ten years of human blood, this synthetic stuff's disgusting.
"In case you haven't noticed, I keep some pretty strange company," she says with a smile. "I do know what goes on with you vampires."
"I guess I can't really just give you part of the story, can I?"
"You're catching on," she remarks.
I sigh. I haven't had to tell the story for a while, but I will never forget any tiny detail.
"Eric found me after a friend's party had gotten out of control. Most of the people there were drunk, and I was one of them. I was trying to get home when I ran into him. I was alone on a quiet road, drunk, and dressed like a slut. He grabbed me from behind and dragged me into the bush. I think he just wanted me for my blood. Or to rape me. Probably both. In fact, he probably did. I was so drunk I can't even remember most of it. I don't know why he decided to change me. I'm not special, or remarkable. Why did it have to be me, of all people?" My head is in my hands, trying to block out things I'm forced to see.
"You are special," Sookie says quietly. "I've known you for a couple of hours and I can already tell that there's something in you that's different to the others."
"You're part Faery," I say nonchalantly. "You can read my thoughts."
She shakes her head. "I can't read a vampire's thoughts. That's why I don't mind their company. I can feel sane again."
"So you're saying you prefer the company of an undead bloodsucker to a warm, living human?" I ask amusedly, taking a long drink from my bottle, grimacing at the taste. Unfortunately, Sookie notices.
"Not a fan?" she asks, looking slightly concerned.
I smile to myself. "I've spent eight years drinking from humans. It's not an easy habit to break, but I had my incentives."
"I won't ask," she says, glancing up at the TV. "So what exactly were you doing with Bill?"
"I found him last year while I was looking for Eric. I'd managed to get around the world looking for him, but Bill convinced me he'd probably be around here, and that I could stay with him. It was a lot easier to stay out of the sun that way, too. When I eventually found him, I decided to stay with Bill."
"How did you stay covered before?"
"I'd find an abandoned building and stay there, or else bury myself during the day."
"So why did you stay with Bill?"
"He made me feel like a little kid again. He looked after me and kept me safe. I let him down so many times, just snapping and running away, killing so many people, but I always came back. He was disappointed in me, and angry, but that's why I wanted to stop. I wanted to be perfect for him. He made me happy."
"When was the last time you killed a human?" she asks a little worriedly.
"About two months ago. I'm still young, I can't control myself well. And I'm doomed to be a perpetually teenage girl."
"How did he make you happy?" she asks, a bit of a motherly expression crossing her attractive face.
"I think you can guess how," I reply, maybe with a little shame in my voice. She frowns, but I continue. "He didn't force me into it, and I didn't force him. It just sort of, happened."
"I know teenage urges," she says with a smirk.
"I've had them for almost ten years," I point out with a wry smile. "It's quite an unfortunate age to be stuck at."
"I can imagine," she replies.
We sit and watch TV for a few minutes, but it doesn't interest me. It's showing the news, but it never really interested me. I absentmindedly watch the shadows dancing off Sookie's face until a familiar name has my head snapping up in alarm.
"Hannah Everson has been found dead in her Louisiana home. The twenty-six year old was found to have drowned in her own blood, but the cause of such injuries is, as yet, unknown. Investigators are on the scene trying to piece together what happened, but further details aren't expected to be released until next week at the earliest."
"Jesse, are you alright?" Sookie asks, leaning forward a little.
"H-H-Hannah is-was my sister," I stammer, my tongue fumbling over the words in shock. "I haven't seen her since the night he got me. She was there, and I never got to say goodbye. Not even now."
"Honey, I don't know what to say to you," she says apologetically. "Some of my closest friends have died, but I just don't know what to do for you."
"You don't have to do anything. What's the time?" I say, closing my eyes and running a hand through my hair.
"Just after four in the morning, why?" she asks, eyeing me closely.
"I won't have enough time," I murmur to myself. "Have you got a computer I could use?"
"Yeah, I'll go and bring it out. You want another?" she asks, nodding at my now empty bottle.
"No, I hate the stuff," I say, wrinkling my nose.
She takes my bottle and looks at me sternly. "Just because you're not living with Bill anymore doesn't mean you stop drinking this. I don't want you killing people while you're living under my roof."
"Yes ma'am," I reply respectfully.
"Now, do you want another?"
"No, I'll be fine, thank you."
She disappears around the corner and reappears a minute later with a laptop tucked under her arm. She places it on the table in front of me and eyes me closely as I open it and turn it on. I'm puzzled for a second when I realise it's a Mac, and I don't normally use them, but I manage to find the Wi-Fi tab and choose 'Sookie's wifi'. It flashes a password tab and I spin it around.
"Password?" I ask as innocently as I can manage.
She stands and types it in, raising an eyebrow when she sits back down. "What are you doing, Jesse?"
"Don't worry, I'm not looking at porn or anything like that. It's just something I need to do myself."
"You know I can just look up what you've been doing? I'm not that good with computers, but I can do that."
"Then I can just delete the history. Trust me, it's nothing illegal."
"What is it then?" she asks, leaning forwards.
"Just a little research. Nothing you need to concern yourself with," I say, opening Chrome and typing in the most obvious thing I can think of: Hannah Everson.
It comes up with a few results, and the first one I open is the most helpful. Turns out she ended up a writer, publishing just one book, a children's book. I delve a little deeper and find her address, scribbling it down in a notepad sitting on the table. I write down the name of the book, too, and the name of her husband: Mark Lyall. I can't find anything much about him, but there is one article from a newspaper about his arrest for assault dating back a few years. It makes me a little uneasy, but I can't do anything now, not with sunrise so close.
I rip the page from the notepad and shove it in my pocket, closing Sookie's laptop after deleting the browsing history and the search history from Google. She frowns as I hand it back to her, but shakes her head and takes it back into the other room.
"The sun's rising in a few minutes, I'd get back into your room if I were you," she says as she walks back in. "You can have a shower when you get up if you want to."
"Sure thing. Thanks for the laptop," I call over my shoulder as I traipse back to my room. I shut the door behind myself and lay down on the bed, hoping I can sleep for all or most of the day.
When I wake up, the clock says it's just before nine at night. The sun will be down by now, so I get up and have a quick shower before wandering out into the lounge room. Sookie's not in the room, but I can hear her out in the kitchen, so I head out there. She starts when she hears me, but I'm behind her by then.
"I wasn't aiming to scare you," I point out.
"That's alright, I'm just a little jumpy around strangers," she says, turning back to her cooking.
"Especially those of the vampiric nature," I add.
She laughs, and it's one of the happiest things I've heard in a while. "You've got a good nose," she says. "Does this smell alright?"
I laugh to myself, but do it anyway. I take a sniff and whatever she's cooking smells good, but I can smell her blood through it, and that smells amazing.
"It smells good," I say.
"But?" she says, her eyes scanning my face.
"Your blood smells better," I admit sheepishly.
"Ah, I see," she says, turning back to the pot, but seeming a little confused.
"Human blood, as a rule, smells good. Faery blood, on the other hand, smells divine," I say. "And since you're part Faery, and I've never met a full Faery, your blood is the most amazing thing I've ever smelled. In fact, it's driving me crazy right now."
She smiles, albeit a little confusedly. "I'm not sure if I should consider that a compliment or a threat," she says.
"Not a threat. I couldn't do that to Bill. Eric, maybe, but not Bill," I say shaking my head. "Consider yourself lucky that I've got him."
She looks shocked, but only for a second. "He really cared about you, didn't he?"
"Yeah. I've lived with him for a year, and woken up with him beside me for about eight months."
"You miss him, simple as that," she says, glancing back at me.
"And you didn't even need to read my mind."
She laughs again, shaking her head. "You know, I've got some clothes if you want some," she says. "We're about the same size." She is right, I'm just a little shorter than her.
"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks," I say.
"The only thing I can't help you out with is shoes."
She's right again. "Yeah, I've got pretty small feet."
She hands me the spoon. "Make sure this doesn't burn, and I'll be back with some clothes for you."
I stir the pot absentmindedly, looking around the kitchen. It's remarkably unremarkable, but I like it. It's homey. I can hear Sookie's footsteps, and drawers and doors opening and shutting, and her footsteps making their way back to me.
"Some shirts, some pants, and I'm afraid that's about it," she says, handing me the stack.
I hand her the spoon, and she turns back to her cooking. "I've got some stuff back at Bill's," I say. "But I doubt Eric would let me go and get anything."
"You're right there," she says, pulling a bowl from the cupboard. "I could try and talk him round. He might listen to me."
"I know he's not going to let me go alone."
"He's coming back sometime tonight, and he said it would be soon; I'll talk to him then. In the meantime, I'm going to eat, and your drinks are up in the corner cupboard."
I go back to my room and put the clothes Sookie gave me in the little cupboard in the corner of the room, and go back out to the kitchen.
I reach up into the cupboard and pull out a bottle, twisting off the cap and tossing it in the bin. I follow her into the lounge room and sit down where I did last night. I have a drink, draining half the bottle in one go, and sit it down on the table. My head lifts almost automatically as I hear Eric's voice, relatively quietly, outside.
"He's back," I mutter sourly. A few seconds after I say it, he opens the door and strides into the lounge room. The moment he walks into the room I stand and confront him. "I need to go back to Bill's."
He laughs like he can't believe what I've just said. "You're kidding," he says, folding his arms across his chest. "No. I'm not letting you go back there. I got you out of there for a reason, and I'm not going to risk letting you go again."
"I don't have to go on my own," I point out.
"I'm not going with you," he says. "I'm more likely to let you go on your own than going with you."
"I will," Sookie says.
Eric looks at her incredulously, but turns back to me. "And why, exactly, do you need to go back to Bill's?"
"I need clothes. I can't wear the same thing for the rest of my life, or until you release me," I point out.
"Release you?" he says. "Who said I was ever going to release you?"
I take a step back, and Sookie narrows her eyes. "So I'm what? A slave? The little kid that runs around doing your shit for you because I have no choice?" I'm yelling by now, and I can tell he's had enough.
"Sookie, take her to Bill's. Stay with her the entire time, and be as quick as you can," he says. He turns to me and jabs a finger at my chest. "I'm only doing this so you shut up. And yes. I think slave works nicely."
I'm tempted to hit him, but he's stronger than me, and I'm not only doing as he says because I have no choice. I'm doing it because I'm scared of him.
