Warnings: Angst, slash, bloodplay, violence, torture. If you're mature enough to watch True Blood, I think you'll be fine reading this.
Disclaimer: True Blood belongs to Alan Ball and the SVM books belong to Charlaine Harris. Only the original characters are mine.
In front of Fangtasia, a paint covered Ginger was busy cleaning up plastic sheets, rolling them into neat balls before putting them in the trash. Eric rolled his eyes. Evidently, Pam was too cheap to just hire some humans to repaint the place.
She smiled brightly when she saw him. "Evening, Mr. Northman!"
"Hello, Ginger," he said, flashing her a charming smile and saw the fresh bite marks on her neck. As irritating as Ginger was and despite Pam's derision, working in sleazy clubs since she was fourteen had left Ginger knowing more about running a nightclub that anyone else currently working for him. Some of her ideas surprised him with how well they worked.
"Doesn't the paint look great?" she said admiringly. She had a spot of black paint on her nose. "You wouldn't know that some nasty people had tried to rough it up."
He held the door open for her as she carried the rest of the gear inside. As she went past him, he put his arm on her shoulder, stopping her. When she looked at him, her eyes were full of fear, but when he wiped the spot of paint off her nose, she smiled again, albeit nervously.
"It looks very nice," he said sincerely, noting that her heartbeat slowed a little as her fright eased. He was hungry.
The brilliant red interior looked nice too, though a little at odds with a corner that was decorated with bright rainbow print balloons and streamers. A banner declared "Congratulations!" A hen's night, perhaps? Someone had ever so kindly hung a few of the balloons around the chair on the platform were he usually sat, multicoloured ribbons entwined the pole beside it.
She beamed at him, thrilled with his politeness and the attention. "It's a good thing you're in tonight. It's Ladies Night." She giggled furiously, snuck what she no doubt thought was a furtive look at him, and then giggled even harder.
"Well, as long as they have money," Eric said. Eric didn't bother to think on Ginger's silliness, he simply headed to his office, pausing to grab a True Blood. Not nearly as delicious as the real thing, but it would take the edge off his hunger. He couldn't concentrate properly on an empty stomach.
Eric looked at the large pile of paperwork that had accumulated in his in-tray. An assortment of envelopes to open, things to sign, bills to pay, more junk mail... all such boring, human things. Someone, probably Chow, had left a series of Disney Princess Post-It notes on his desk, reminding him to call suppliers, potential employees and his advertising team. One note written on a Princess Jasmine Post-It caught his attention – a request to guest lecture at a local university about Viking culture.
Staring at the paperwork, he considered which problem to tackle first. Human or vampire? Pay the bills or think about Godric?
He chose human.
Eric absorbed himself with club matters, determined to keep his mind off Godric. He flicked through papers, signing where needed, writing out cheques. His computer froze in the middle of saving a spreadsheet.
How is it that last night I bested a vampire three times my age and tonight I can't even master Windows XP, he wondered, thoroughly baffled as he watched the mocking hourglass rotate. Verbal threats against his PC didn't work and he knew better than to hit his computer - he'd lost more than a few in the early days of Windows 95 due to smacking them. Sullenly, he redid the spreadsheet.
He considered the request of the university and decided he would do it. He'd invite the class to Fangtasia afterwards. Pam would love that, especially since he would make her help clean up after a night of boisterous college kids. He grinned at the thought. Of course, it didn't hurt that college girls tended to be... experimental.
Unfortunately, the distraction ended too soon. All he could see was Godric, gazing towards the rising sun. His throat felt tight.
The door to his office swung open with a bang and Pam stood in the doorway, frowning at him. "You were meant to be up on the stage half an hour ago," she said sternly, swinging a whip in her hands. Seeing his expression and the tiredness in his face, she became wary.
"What now?" When he didn't answer, she grew impatient, slamming the door shut behind her. "Eric?"
When she was in a good mood, Pam dressed in a dominatrix style outfit for work. Right now, she was wearing a pair of boots that and travelled practically all the way up her legs and had had heels that had to be at least four inches tall. The rest of her outfit looked much like a leather bikini covered in studs. If her clothes tonight were any indication of how she was feeling, she was practically over the moon with delight.
He hated to ruin her chipper mood.
"It's ridiculous," he said slowly, remembering how hurt she'd been that he'd never told her about his murdered human family. Looking at her uneasy face, he suddenly realised that Pam was his only 'family' now.
"If it's regarding Sookie Stackhouse, then yes, it is ridiculous."
When he didn't even acknowledge her snippiness, Pam grew more attentive. "What is it?"
"I've seen Godric."
Pam drew back, startled. "Where?" she demanded. Her blue eyes, heavily lined in kohl, flickered around the room as if expecting to see him standing in the corner.
"In the parking lot when I was out in the sun. When I buried Russell." He looked up at her. "In my bedroom."
"Well, vampires can't come back as ghosts." Pam sat down across from him, frowning. "Did he – it -say anything?"
"Last night, he said 'I'm sorry'." He didn't want to tell her about the rest, not yet. It was too ridiculous.
"Sorry? For what?"
"I honestly don't know."
Pam had met Godric a few nights after Eric had turned her and in her youth, had made the mistake of thinking of him as a young boy. Godric had not liked that and had let her know it. She'd learned how fast her body could heal that night too.
She didn't care much for Godric.
After thinking about it for a few minutes, she eyed him suspiciously. "You aren't feeling guilty about anything, are you?"
"No. Why?"
He watched as she focused intently, trying to sense his emotions to see if he was telling the truth. That bond between them had always been a little weak – the complete opposite of himself and Godric – but Eric liked it better that way and so did Pam. But going by the look on her face, she was getting nothing off him now.
"Well, maybe he's a representation of your conscience." She smirked. "You would make the almighty Godric your moral compass."
He gave her a sharp look, but she was unapologetic. She'd probably been watching reruns of Dr Phil.
When she started studying her nails, he had to hide a smile. If she was inspecting her nails, she was either pretending to be ignorant, or thinking hard.
"So it can't be a ghost," she said, mostly to herself. She glanced at him. "Maybe you're just going crazy."
He snorted. "After this week, I wouldn't be surprised."
"Could it be a side effect of the fairy blood?" she wondered, and it caught him by surprise.
Well, don't I feel stupid. He hadn't even thought of that.
"I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe."
"So our options are a ghost, mental illness, a come down, or you've decided that Godric now represents your conscience."
"Any other great ideas?" he said sarcastically, irked by the last one.
"I think it's the fairy blood," she said decisively.
A ghost, mental illness, a come down, or a conscience. The first impossible, the second... well, possible, but very unlikely, the third was plausible, and the fourth, well, he already had one. I'm merely selective in what it's applied to.
He went back to the third idea. It made sense. He hadn't seen visions of Godric until he'd ingested the fairy blood. The more he thought about it, the more sensible it seemed.
He relaxed, glad he'd asked for her opinion. Pam might be blunt to the point of aggravation, but she was almost always practical.
"I think you're right," he said and then grinned. "Although, maybe I feel bad for tricking Sookie..."
She rolled her eyes and poked him in the chest with her whip. "You're not half as funny as you think you are."
"You know I am," he smirked, and stood up, feeling more reassured about the whole matter.
She continued to give him a withering look as he stripped off his clothes and pulled on the black leather vest and pants he wore on Ladies Night. Hopefully there would be some buxom beauty in the crowd that would capture his interest and he'd be able to slake both his thirsts at the same time. A redhead tonight perhaps...
Now eager to get into the club to find a redhead to fuck and feed on, he looked at Pam impatiently. She was reapplying her dark purple lipstick, using the small mirror on the back of the door. Satisfied with her gothic appearance, she clicked the cap on.
She licked her lips, studying her reflection closely. "You'll tell me if it happens again, right?"
"Of course."
"Good." She checked him over. "Lose the vest."
He raised an eyebrow at the order, but complied. Just the leather pants.
Pam smiled broadly and withdrew something from between her breasts and held it out to him. "I have something for you."
His phone.
"I broke into Bill's house and found it. Last call on it is to Ruben," she said distastefully, then added sulkily, "You should have killed him."
Proof that Bill had rung Ruben then. But it raised some interesting questions. How would Bill know that Ruben was Eric's assassin? Everyone knew that most Sheriffs and Royals kept assassins; Eric had always been careful not to let anyone know that Ruben did work 'on the side' for him. No one but Pam and Sophie-Anne knew.
The Queen must have told Bill at some point. He scowled. Her stealth was admirable, bugging his office, probably using both Bill and Ruben to spy on him. Extremely clever, but it also revealed the depths of her paranoia and her fear of him.
One thing still puzzled him. Ruben should have known better than to think that Eric would want Pam dead. He'd been awfully quick to try completing the task.
Chow can investigate Ruben's house, he decided, but it will have to wait until Ruben is missed.Even Chow would be irritated that Ruben hadn't come in for his shifts at Fangtasia.
He had time to think about it while out flaunting his good looks in the club. He followed Pam out of the office. He couldn't help admiring her ability to walk in ridiculously tall heels. Still, if she buys those Chanel boots, I'm making her a dancer.
He stopped dead as humans began squealing in excitement at the sight of him. Lots of men actually, standing in the corner decorated with the rainbow balloons. Right by his chair.
"Oh, by the way, you were the winner of the Hottest Gay Vampire in Louisiana competition," Pam said with a great deal of satisfaction. She was so pleased with herself that her fangs were showing. The racy outfit explained.
"Really. Whose idea was that?" A man was holding a dildo shaped trophy up to him, smiling bashfully. It had his name on it. Eric Northman. Hottest Gay Vampire in Louisiana.
"I'm going to blame Ginger." She pushed him towards the throng of excited men. "Now hurry up. Your public needs you."
Fangs on display, he smiled as politely as he could as he accepted the tawdry trophy. It's going to take more than college kids to pay her back for this, he thought, struggling to keep his smile on as two men pressed up against him to have their photo taken with him. He was glad to have his cell back. At least now he could play Tetris while having dozens of men fawn all over him.