A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews, alerts and favorites for this. I know canon stories can be a tough thing for us Sooric 'shippers, so I appreciate the willingness to read and review. I also appreciate all the other stories I'm learning about through all of your profiles! I'm going to have SO much reading to do when I get done writing the sequel to this. (This one is a shorty, so we are in the home stretch.) XOXOXO
Chapter 4: The Keys to the Kingdom
When I called on Jason Stackhouse the next night, he initially thought I was there to kill him.
"Uh, it's only been 24 hours since you were here. I haven't had time to get that window fixed that fast. Can you at least give me to the end of the week –" he began nervously.
"Jason," I murmured, catching his gaze. His eyes instantly lost their focus and went dreamy. I found it strange that Sookie's brother could be so easily glamoured while she was immune, but that was a mystery to be solved some other day. "Don't worry about the window. You are selling your sister's house. It won't be your problem any longer."
"How can I sell Sook's house? Gran left it only to her, not to me." Jason wrinkled his brows in lethargic befuddlement.
Good point.
"Do you have a family lawyer, Jason?"
"Sid Matt Lancaster," he replied automatically.
"Sid Matt will take care of that part of things," I said soothingly. After I took care of Sid Matt, that is. "I want you to call Sid Matt tomorrow and tell him you want to sell the house as soon as possible. It's been nearly a year since your sister went missing. You can't stand seeing it stand empty like that anymore. You've lost too many people there."
Jason Stackhouse looked genuinely sad as he nodded obediently at me. "I should sell that house," he said slowly. "All my family's gone from there. It hurts me."
I nodded understandingly before directing his compliant mind to forget I had ever been there and to go back to watching whatever sport game he'd had on his TV.
Sid Matt Lancaster was easy to find, and easier to glamour. By the time I left the frail old lawyer, I knew the paperwork on Sookie's house would be altered to my advantage and that Sid Matt would never remember he had done it.
By Labor Day, the house was mine.
~*E&S*~
Of course, outside of Pam, no one knew the house was mine and I intended to keep it that way. As far as Jason Stackhouse knew, a real estate company had purchased his sister's house in order to make a quick flip of the house and had paid more than he asked for the selling price in order to expedite things. He hadn't even had to empty the house out, although he had asked if he could pack up his sister's personal belongings and store them until he could pick them up.
The night that the house keys were delivered, I opened the package in my office at Fangtasia. I had just pulled the ring set out when Pam came into the room.
"Ahhh, the keys to the kingdom?" She raised an eyebrow at me. "So now Sookie will be yours if she does return."
I shrugged noncommittally. "Only the house is mine." For the moment.
"Oh, please." Pam rolled her eyes at me. "If you own the house, you own the human in the house. Now you will simply be able to take her if you wish. It's very efficient."
That was the vampire way to think of it. It wasn't entirely the way I was thinking of it, but pointing that out to Pam would just start another argument. And maybe it was the way I should be thinking about it; I wasn't exactly comfortable with the feelings percolating through me.
At least I now had the knowledge that Sookie was part fairy to make those feelings slightly more excusable. If she had been fully human, I would have had to stake myself as a lost cause for a vampire.
I tossed the keys in my hand. "Think I'll go check out my new property," I said lightly. I felt better already.
~*E&S*~
The new locks tumbled smoothly; probably the only mechanical thing in the house that was working correctly after nearly a year of neglect. The air inside seemed stale when I opened the door, but I still stopped in the front hallway and inhaled: I could still smell Sookie. It was faint now, but I closed my eyes and concentrated. The one thing I hated about what I was about to do was that her odor would be lost to dozens of new smells, except, perhaps, for whatever items Jason had boxed up.
I found them in the attic: a handful of boxes filled mostly with clothes and "Sookie Stackhouse" scrawled on the outside. I picked up a cotton nightgown with some kind of artwork on it and buried my nose in it. Sookie. It had been months since I felt even a tingle of arousal, but as I inhaled the remainder of Sookie's intoxicating scent, my body responded. I rubbed the cotton against my cheek and found myself nearly purring with the pleasure of it. Reluctantly I let the cloth fall back into the box and adjusted my jeans slightly. This was not the time to linger.
Another box in the attic was full of photos and scrapbooks. I flipped through the pictures and paused when I came to a snapshot of Sookie. In the picture she was grinning happily at the camera, her arms tanned and bare against a white summer top while sunlight lit her blonde hair like a halo. I ran my thumb across the image of her face before I slipped the picture into my pocket.
The scrapbooks had what I was hoping for. I flipped through the pages and ultimately selected two of the volumes as what I would need.
Leaving the scrapbooks on a table in the upstairs hallway, I explored the top floor. I dallied the most in what was obviously Sookie's bedroom based on the concentration of her scent even after such a long time. It was clear something violent had happened there; a dresser near the doorway was broken, and the tri-fold mirror over the vanity had been shattered. A dollhouse by the window appeared to have been … blasted by a shotgun. I raised an eyebrow. My Sookie – I delicately tried the phrase out in my mind – routinely got into a lot of trouble already; it was only going to get worse once others knew what she was.
She was going to need protection when she got back, especially now that she was no longer Bill's. If other vampires realized she was part fairy, her desirability as prey would escalate exponentially. And now it appeared she wasn't even safe from her own kind. Between her telepathy, her intoxicating blood and her other fae powers, Sookie had the potential to be an attractive target to just about every supernatural creature known.
I sighed. I had told her at Russell's home that she meant nothing to me. If only it had been true, my life would have been so much simpler.
I had originally wanted her to be mine just because I wanted her (let's not think about how desperately I wanted her), but now I found that I also wanted her to be mine for her own safety. I was the strongest vampire remaining in Louisiana; I could defeat most vampires, most weres and eat any fucking fairies that would come after her. She needed me, even if she didn't realize it yet. And I needed to protect her.
That said, I wasn't willing to force her to be mine, even for her own good, although Pam was right: I was strong enough to just take her. But it was important to me that she desired to be mine in return. Not only would it simply be less trouble if she was a willing participant in that relationship, but the truth was that I wanted her to want me as much as I wanted her. I wanted that fiery nature to choose me.
Looking grimly at Sookie's wrecked bedroom, I realized I was going to have to entice her as quickly as I could whenever she returned if I wanted to keep her safe.
As I explored the rest of the house, I took careful note of what remained under the thick coat of grime everywhere. While it would have been easiest to simply gut the house and redecorate, I wanted Sookie to return to something she recognized as her house. In some ways, it would probably cost more to have everything cleaned and restored than simply replaced, but it would be worth it if Sookie was pleased.
One thing surprised – and gratified me – as I searched through the bottom floor of the house. There was no hidden resting place for a vampire; no hidey holes in the closets, under the floorboards, or concealed beneath the staircase.
No vampire, including Bill Compton, had ever had the opportunity to go to ground in this house.
If I had my way, I would be the first vampire – and preferably the only one, ever – to spend the day at rest under Sookie's roof.
~*E&S*~
During the weeks that the laborers were working on the house, I would stop by late at night to see how things were progressing, careful to avoid being seen by anyone, especially Bill's security forces. With thoughtful, thorough cleaning and some well-done repairs and painting, not as much had had to be completely replaced as I had originally thought. As the house's interior was restored to a homey splendor it probably had not enjoyed in decades, I was convinced that Sookie would be satisfied with the respect I had shown her home's original décor.
I was hoping that would counteract what was sure to be her ire over the light-tight room I had had built beneath the house.
From the human workers' perspective, it was a "panic room," its access carefully hidden in the sturdily crafted faux armoire to one side of the small sewing room. In a "post-Russell Edgington world," even the humans had a deeper appreciation for higher security measures and if any of them suspected it was a room for a vampire, they kept their speculation to themselves.
I could count on Sookie being outraged at this one major change I had made, but I also believed that eventually she would see reason. For all her sometimes impetuous passions, Sookie was a smart woman and ultimately, I trusted that she would agree that I was her best option for defense. And the most sensible way for me to keep her safe was for me to have somewhere to stay with her during daylight hours. If she were ever to be in danger, I had already circumvented the weeks it would have taken to set up appropriate accommodations for me. That I had conveniently created an alternative to her seeking shelter in Bill's newly refurbished mansion was something I acknowledged but chose not to dwell on.
"My room," as I thought of it, was ready by the end of September. The furnishings were simple: a single-width bed with a quilted leather surface, to which I'd added some faux fur pillows and a throw; an area rug for the cement floor; and a couple of bedside tables. It looked comfortable and masculine but, importantly, didn't look like a chamber intended for seduction. I suspected that if Sookie discovered a lush double bed (blatantly selected with sex in mind) in my hideaway, she'd attempt to stake me before I could even begin persuading her to choose my protection.
Over the course of a couple of nights, I also brought to my new little nook several books, principally those about the fairy realm that I had spent the last few months studying so intently. I'd also begun investigating another topic of interest – blood bonds, particularly between vampires and humans – and added the few books written on that subject to my bedside table.
In the year she had been gone, Sookie was never far from my mind, but spending time surrounded by her things made my imagination dwell on her more than ever. Sometimes I would mentally rehearse what I planned to say to convince her to be mine – and perversely enjoy daydreaming about the likelihood that, Sookie being Sookie, she would argue with me about it. Of course, she would agree in the end since I was obviously coaxing her to do the most logical thing, but I missed our verbal fencing and I was looking forward to doing it again.
The rest of the time, I fantasized about what it would be like if she was finally mine.
The kiss we had shared in my office before everything went to hell in a hand basket with Russell Edgington fueled those fantasies. I had imagined many times before then what it would be like to kiss her, but the reality had surpassed my dreams in the same way a firestorm transcends a mere spark.
As I was making my final goodbyes to her that night, I had told her that if I did not at least kiss her, I would have no bigger regret as I faced the true death. She had resisted at first when I pulled her to me, but as I desperately plundered her lips with my own and buried my hands in her silky hair, she had finally begun to respond. I had been overwhelmed by not only her intoxicating scent and the feel of her body (her warm lips, her hair tangled in my fingers, her delicate jawline), but by my own feelings, which surged like a tsunami as soon as we touched. When she had finally pulled away from me, I had been disoriented and stunned. For those few moments, everything else had fallen away and nothing existed but Sookie, and it had taken me a few seconds to reorient myself to reality again.
Now, remembering the power of that kiss, all I could think of was what it might be like to make love to her. I don't know if it was having had her fairy blood or just an indicator of how obsessed I was with her, but even after a year, I could close my eyes and picture her body – a body I had never even seen fully unclothed – in exquisite detail, from the swell of her breasts to the lush curve of her hips.
Whenever my mind went there, my fangs weren't the only thing that sprang to attention.
The most unexpected thing about my fantasies was that even though I had had Sookie's blood and found it the most delectable I had ever tasted, it didn't feature hugely in my daydreams about her. I wanted it, I couldn't deny that, but I wanted her trust more and I knew that treating her like an exotic food would not endear me to her. If one of the conditions of her being mine was to live on blood other than hers, I was willing to comply.
If I ever had the opportunity to claim Sookie Stackhouse as mine, I knew that I would not be satisfied with a short fling. In fact, if I could ever persuade her to agree, I already knew that I'd happily turn her in order to have her around for a long, long time.
~*E&S*~
On the one-year anniversary of Sookie's disappearance, I spent the entire night at the house for the first time. It wasn't merely my own sentimentality drawing me there – although I was acutely mindful of the date – but the knowledge that fairy-abducted humans sometimes reappeared at specific times following their disappearances. I kept vigil in Sookie's house, listening for any unexpected sounds in the dark and reading to keep my mind occupied.
She didn't come.
I hadn't realized how much I had hoped she would until I could feel the impending dawn and had to swallow down unexpectedly intense disappointment before flying back to Shreveport. With laborers still working on finishing touches on both the interior and exterior of the house, it wasn't yet safe to stay there during the daylight hours.
The magically significant "year and a day" the next night didn't bring Sookie with it, either.
I spent one more full night at the house (the 'mystical rule of threes' theory was also a bust) before deciding I would have to go back to patiently waiting for Sookie to return in her own time. I still believed with my whole heart that she would. And I would be ready, even if it did take a century.
~*E&S*~
Pam had been relieved that my mood had improved since I had begun renovating the house, but I could tell she was still uneasy at the amount of time I was spending on the project. Apparently, she was not the only one keeping tabs on my work habits. Word must have gotten back to Bill that I was not in Fangtasia as much the last few weeks because my king called me to his home several days after the anniversary of Sookie's disappearance.
I had avoided visiting Bill Compton as much as possible since the search for Sookie was officially ended, and whenever I was ordered to make an official appearance at the royal residence, I made an effort to keep our interactions brief. I also sometimes conveniently (or inconveniently, from Bill's perspective) avoided answering my cell phone until it was inescapable. I know he found it annoying, but I didn't care. Not having to go through the motions of respect for him when I was feeling irritable, especially during my darkest period earlier in the year, had been the smartest thing I could do politically. I hadn't trusted myself not to lose my temper (and consequently my head if he wished to ask for it) if he had requested something ludicrous of me.
Fortunately, my attitude had improved along with the progress of the work on my newest property. My recovered ability to control myself around Bill in the last few weeks turned out to be necessary when he finally called me to his office. Very necessary.
"Eric." Bill nodded at me curtly when I arrived. He gestured at one of the large leather chairs opposite his desk and silently gave me permission to sit.
"No thank you, your majesty." I preferred to stand. It tended to make our visits shorter; maybe because Bill had to crane his neck up to look at me if I stood too close to his desk.
My king steepled his fingers together and leaned back in his chair. "I hear that you have been spending time away from Fangtasia the last few weeks. I have to wonder, Eric, since you are no longer working on anything for me, exactly what you have been up to that draws you away from your duties?" Bill smiled at me with false cordiality.
After a moment of silence, I replied imperturbably, "I've been … redecorating my house."
Bill raised a skeptical eyebrow at me. But he didn't ask me which property I was referring to.
"It was Pam's idea," I offered. I looked appropriately abashed at being progeny-whipped. "She was inspired by your own renovation efforts and thought I should…try something new." Channeling my frustrations into something potentially useful, instead of taking them out on her and on Jason Stackhouse, was the way she had put it.
"I see." Bill's eyes narrowed at me. "And this has nothing to do with Sookie?"
"Well, when she returns, I do hope she'll like what I've done with the place if she ever gets to see it. And I hope she will," I drawled.
It's amazing how sometimes the truth can sound like a lie if said in the right tone of voice.
Bill snorted in disgust at what he obviously thought was my warped sense of humor.
"It's been over a year, Eric. Have you nothing better to do than to try to—to yank my chain about her?" He looked at me with contempt.
"I still hope she will return," I said with a shrug. "If that is 'yanking your chain,' then I guess, no, I do not have anything better to do."
My king shook his head at me wearily. "Eric, I expect you to quit whatever – frivolity – you have been pursuing and resume your duties at Fangtasia with more enthusiasm."
I said nothing but lowered my eyes to the floor in a pretense of submission. Fangtasia was open every night until 6 a.m., but even Bill couldn't demand I spend all night, every night there. And what was he going to do to force me to obey? Sic his humans on me? Perhaps report my failure to hang out in the bar all night to the Authority, who wouldn't give a fuck?
"How are the new technology policies working out?" Bill briskly changed the subject. "Any problems with enforcement in the bar?"
Bill had introduced several "innovative" policies designed to present humans with the most positive view of vampires after Russell Edgington: no filming of vampires feeding or fighting, or the vampires so filmed would face the true death. There had been a brief attempt to ban filming of vampires fucking as well, but vampire porn was in as much demand as ever, so that effort had died a quick death. So to speak.
"No. We confiscate all phones and cameras at the door as requested. The tourists aren't especially happy about it, but so far, we've only had to destroy a handful of smuggled-in items. There have also been a couple of 'misunderstandings' when humans have retrieved property other than their own when leaving, but we've handled it." Off Bill's look, I added drily, "Retrieval of the stolen property and glamouring of victim and perpetrator. No maiming or death."
Bill nodded in approval. "Good." He moved some papers on his desk. "By the way, you should expect Nan Flanagan to drop by sometime in the next few nights, along with a camera crew."
My turn to raise an eyebrow.
"Public service announcements to feature our kind's friendly intentions towards humans. Since your business is one of the better known vampire-owned enterprises in the state, it would be helpful if you participated."
"I'm sure Pam is going to love that," I murmured.
"See that she does," Bill responded. I must have still looked doubtful, as he added with a grimace, "Well, at least have her try. And since there will be cameras, you should both follow the new grooming protocols. A modest suit should do for Pam. Something other than her usual bar wear. And you should get your hair cut. You look more like one of the fangbangers than a business owner."
And, ah, yes, one of the other policies of the new regime: when on camera, be cognizant of the need to look as non-threateningly human as possible. Clean cut was in. And I had to admit that in the depths of my black mood of the last few months, I hadn't given a shit about how my hair looked. It had gotten noticeably longer, although not so long as before the unfortunate incident with the blood that had necessitated its cutting the year before. I was slicking it back with more product than ever, but that was just to keep it out of my way.
"Do I need to wear a suit?" I inquired flatly.
"No. Just keep it professional, but in keeping with your occupation as barkeep." Barkeep who someday was going to have your barmaid, motherfucker, I thought grimly. Bill shot me one more pointed look as he dismissed me. "And I mean that in all senses, Sheriff. You can go. And I do mean go straight back to Fangtasia. You have work to do."
"Your majesty." I nodded minimally as I exited. And although I glanced down at my new house as I took off into the night, I did not stop to visit but went straight to back to my bar.
~*E&S*~
I made a point of being more visible the next few nights at Fangtasia. The house was very close to done in any case; the painters were finishing with a sunny coat of yellow paint on the exterior and landscapers had put in not only a riot of yellow and purple flowers around the edge of the porch, but filled in window boxes as well. The house actually looked lived in, like it was as ready and eager for Sookie to come back to it as I was.
The night before we were scheduled to have Nan Flanagan and her media hounds descend on us, I was able to sneak away for a little while and spend some time at the farmhouse, relaxing in my new room with one of the older books. Unfortunately, that respite was short-lived when Pam called me to say that we had an emergency – some idiot vampire in our area had been filmed feeding, the video had already gone viral on YouTube, and Bill was insisting the "video star" be picked up and brought to the royal mansion ASAP.
It didn't take me too long that night to locate our new "celebrity," as he had simply returned to his home, apparently thinking that what he had done was "not a big deal." I had to agree with his whining that he was just "doing what vampires do, man," but my job as Sheriff was to enforce the law, not make it. Bill could explain to him why he deserved to be staked for having a willing back-alley snack.
Of course, I also had to explain to Bill why I hadn't bothered to answer several calls and messages until Pam contacted me. I blithely claimed poor basement reception on my cell, and while I could tell he knew it was bullshit, he didn't call me on it. Following an imperial lecture on my obligation to answer my phone (as well as another reminder about my hair), I was free, but it was already getting close to dawn. I reluctantly bypassed my bed at Sookie's house and headed back to Shreveport for the day. Once the workmen were finally done, I planned on sleeping over now and again to keep an eye on things.
As I settled onto my pallet in Shreveport, I realized I had not fed and was about to go to sleep hungry. Rolling onto my side, I found myself thinking pragmatically that if I did end up sleeping at the new house regularly, I should invest in a microwave. I wasn't going to have the access to willing donors the way I did at Fangtasia, and I wasn't a fan of animal blood, so I would have to acclimate to the occasional Tru-Blood. I grimaced at the thought, but if drinking swill brought me closer to having Sookie, it was worth it.
I made a mental note to order a microwave when I woke up – but when sunset came, it was already too late.
Sookie was back.
A/N: Before anyone freaks out over Eric glamouring Jason, I have to confess: in the show, I would be surprised if Eric actually glamoured Jason into selling the house. But "Jason put the house on the market after a year and Eric snapped it up and renovated it in two weeks" is not only less interesting to write about, but is also harder to work out logistically because it still doesn't explain how Jason managed to sell something he didn't own unless Sookie was legally dead. So I made our Sheriff just a little bit badder than he probably really was in canon. We love him anyway, right?
