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What Lurks Beneath

Chapter Four

You could totally tell Mr. Compton was a vamp, if his skin was anything to go by.

He was pale as a sheet, and his eyes were a very dark blue. Darker, than normal anyhow. His eyelids were even rimmed red, like he'd been up all night and into the early morning hours.

But I could tell Gran definitely couldn't; She hadn't ever met a vampire in Bon Temps before, so she could be forgiven. But had she known right away, as soon as she had merely taken a fleeting look at him, I was worried she'd fall into a deep fright.

He was a little shorter than the dirty vampire we had come across on our walk a lengths away from Gran's yard, and he had thick brown hair, a long angular nose, and dimples, depending on the way he smiled.

Unlike the other dirty vamp, his fangs were completely concealed, and it made him look benign. What made him all the more endearing, was the clothes he was wearing. An old ratty blue flannel shirt and excruciatingly tight acid-washed jeans. Like he couldn't afford to care for fashion.

Gran had made me swear to be nice to our new neighbours, so I planted on a big fake smile and held out my hand for him to shake.

"Sookie Stackhouse," I said politely, and he took my hand. Well, groped it, more like it anyhow. After a few seconds passed, I wriggled my hand free, then turned to Gran who was staring on between us inquisitively. "This here, is my lovely Gran."

When he finally looked over at Gran, his expression irked me a little. There was a calm possessiveness in his hazy dark eyes that bugged the hell out of me, and for the life of me, I couldn't understand why in the Lord's name, the vampire was looking at my Gran in such an intensely thoughtful way.

"Now, you must be Adele Stackhouse," he said pleasantly, extending a hand, much to Gran's delight. I didn't know how he knew Gran's name, but he did. Something about him honestly gave me the creeps. He made my stomach churn.

Gran accepted his extended hand at once, only it didn't stop at a mere handshake. Before I knew it, he had pressed his mouth to Gran's wrinkled knuckles, and she was downright flustered, wriggling around and glowing underneath his heated gaze. She even gave out a giddy chuckle.

I tried my mighty hardest not to gag over this Mr. Compton's attempts in winning over Gran. It was just too much for my mind to take in all at once.

"We've only just moved into the Compton residence next door," Mr. Compton was saying, but I wasn't really paying much attention. I kept my eyes to my hands while I bit the inside of my cheeks, playing with my fingers. "And I must say, I am delighted to be living next door from such a fine citizen as yourself, Mrs. Stackhouse."

Gran gave out another shaky laugh, totally falling for his little kiss-ass tricks. But not me. I wasn't fooled one bit. Something about Mr. Compton gave me the spooks. I didn't know why that was, exactly.

Batting away his compliments half-heartedly, Gran plunged into a different turn of conversation. "Did you happen to know the old man who used to live next door? He died of a heart-attack, I believe."

It turned out Mr. Compton did.

He looked a little nervous by the subject. "In fact, I did," he said, after a beat's worth of uncomfortable hesitation. "He was a good man, a very hard worker. It was very unfortunate that he passed the way he did..."

"Indeed, it was," Gran agreed, sadly. "I never met the man myself, but by what I've heard... he lived quite a lonely, secluded life up until the end." She paused uncertainly for a moment, glancing briefly up over to his house. "May I ask where your young daughter is? I must tell you, gossip spreads in this town like a wild fire, and I have been hearing a lot about this daughter of yours. Jessica, was it?"

I never thought it possible, but Mr. Compton looked even more nervous by the second. I wondered if he was deliberately trying to be discreet about a lot of things on purpose. "Ma'am, the gossip-mongers of Bon Temps were indeed right. I do have a daughter, adopted in fact. She is seventeen years of age."

"Oh, seventeen!" Gran was pleased as pie. "How delightful! Can we meet her?"

"Oh, ah..." Mr. Compton laughed, a little hoarsely. I believed that if he could have blushed, he would have been, by the abashed look on his face. "Perhaps not right now, Mrs. Stackhouse. I have grounded her, you see. She is not fit to see visitors. It is part of her punishment."

Gran's face fell in disappointment. I knew she was really looking forward to meeting his young daughter.

And he seemed to pick up on it, too. To express his regret, he patted her on the hand with a set of bony, purple fingers. His fingers looked so uncomfortably cold to the touch, that I shivered even just looking at them.

"Perhaps at a later date, ma'am," he said gently, to placate her. "In fact, Jessica's most likely inside playing the Wii." He flashed me a wide smile, as he said that. Like it would impress me. Which it did not, for that matter. "We just had it installed and it is very addicting, I must say..."

"Wii?" Gran laughed out, confused. Gran was not up to date with modern technology.

"Gran, it's like a game console," I said, quick to explain. Mr. Compton beamed over at me in appreciation, then stiffened noticably.

Perhaps he'd sensed it, the moment she was there. A girl was lingering by the entrance in our yard, looking bored out of her brain.

"Uh, excuse me for a moment, ladies," Mr. Compton said, working a little to keep the pleasant smile on his face. He turned to the young girl, who was staring at us like we were from another planet. "Jessica," I could faintly hear him arguing with her in a hushed, controlled voice.

She reminded me of a teenager, even though she looked a few years older than me in age.

In a very childish gesture, she stomped her bare feet at the grass underneath Mr. Compton's stern words, whining. A moment later, it looked like she had won with whatever it was they were arguing over, because Mr. Compton shot both Gran and I a reluctant smile before towing her over towards us by the elbow.

She wrenched herself free from his grip on her arm; whipping her frizzy, unkempt long hair behind her shoulder.

You'd have to be blind not to appreciate how pretty she was, in like a wild, hippy sort of way. She was wearing a very short floral pink dress that fell just above her knees, showing off her pale slender legs. Her eyes were a bright hazy blue, and she had the most loveliest pink shade of lips I'd ever seen in all the ladies of Bon Temps.

"Why, hello there," I said, trying my very hardest to act politely towards the young girl. I extended my hand slowly out to her, which she glanced down at with wide eyes. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse, and this is my Gran. We live next-"

"Forget all the pleasantries," she groaned, very rudely.

She got up close to me, to the point where she was invading my personal space. She even gave out a loud sniff, which Gran was bound to hear from right where she was standing next to me.

She moaned through a set of glistening white teeth loudly, "Can I taste you? I'm really hungry, and you smell so good!"

Gran was downright disgusted. She gave out a funny noise, while Mr. Compton looked equally as disgusted.

He gave Gran a tired, apologetic look. "Please forgive my child," he laughed it off weakly, but underneath the tone, he looked hard as steel. His dark eyes flashed, and his nostrils flared. If I had been his daughter, I would have felt scared at the sight of him and wouldn't have dared disobey him.

Only, his daughter wasn't listening to a word he was saying. The fangs popped out, white and long and glistening.

And then, Gran screamed in shock. A long, frightening, piercing scream that had her frail, tiny hands flailing to cover her neck.

It was like I was overcome with some sort of trance-like state.

I just simply stood there, looking deeply into her bright eyes, while she prepared herself to make a meal out of me. I couldn't possess the capability within me to move. I was numb from the neck downwards. Then, this strangest sense of calm overtook me, while I stood there still as a deer frozen in a set of headlights, surrendering to become easy kill.

That sense of calm hadn't lasted long, though.

My blood was boiling. "You, are a nasty piece of-" I began loudly, but was quickly interrupted.

"Jessica, as your Maker, I command you to-" This Mr. Compton was yelling.

But before he could managed to finish his sentence, I heard dry leaves crackling underneath someone's footsteps, and a pained moan, as this Jessica girl was being knocked flying into the air. There was a very loud thump and a crash where she must have collided into a tree trunk, but I couldn't be concerned.

I couldn't believe where such strength had come from but, really... I ought to have already known.

He must have made a quick vampire entrance; whizzing out through the trees with such speed to intervene, because one moment I was staring this crazy vampire girl down, ready to dish it out to her cold and then in the next, he was right there in my vision looming over me protectively, his large hands and fingers splayed out like claws.

He wasn't wearing a shirt this time around, nor was he wearing shoes. He was still wearing those dark jeans though, so he wasn't completely naked, thank goodness.

He turned to look down at me with those wide pitiful eyes of his, and my eyes were suddenly at a level to his bare chest. Now I had seen many boys half-naked with their shirts off at school, but he was quite a nice sight to be seen. Unlike many other boys, who were so puny, he had big broad shoulders and was so so muscular. The dream I had last night of the two of us sitting there in the tub, didn't really do him justice. Somehow, he looked bigger than I'd ever imagined.

A moment later, I realized he looked wet.

His fair hair was damp and flattened to his forehead, and his skin was dripping like he was a huge drowned rat. He wasn't covered in dirt anymore, neither. Plus, he didn't smell anymore. I figured he must have taken a shower somewhere to clean himself up, thank riddence. It was as if he had just come right from a nudist colony and even while being half-naked, he looked so unperturbed, like it was the most natural thing on earth to be shirtless in front of other people.

"My human," he panted hoarsely, in what sounded an off-handed greeting, surprising even me. He looked relieved, for whatever reason that was.

"Eric Northman?" Mr. Compton drawled out, sounding so shocked. The big vamp took his eyes slowly from me to drag them over to Mr. Compton, who's dark eyes widened, as he took in the big dripping vamp. "I see time has made you weather something dreadful."

They started eyeballing each other; sizing each other up and growling through their fangs in disgust, doing all kinds of nasty.

"Always a pleasure to see you too, Bill. And, fuck you!" This Eric Northman- finally, I knew his damned name!- spat out, looking all sorts of impassive and cool. I was impressed with how calm he kept himself. It was admirable.

But this Mr. Compton looked as if he was about to blow a gasket of extreme proportions. He was staring this Eric Northman down like he was a bad piece of art, breathing strenuously. With a gentle click of his fangs, he hissed out, "Well, fuck you t-"

"Hey!" Gran was suddenly shrieking, having visably recovered from her little screaming match minutes ago.

Of course, the old Gran Stackhouse was back in full swing and both the big dirty vamp and Mr. Compton glanced over at her, shocked, like they had forgotten all about us ladies standing there.

"Now that is not the way to talk in front of a young lady!"

Mr. Compton exchanged an apologetic glance with us. Then, he slowly turned back to this shirtless Eric Northman. "Why are you here?" he asked, in a low voice. "Why are you not in Shreveport with your progeny, where you rightfully belong?" You would have to be deaf not to hear the unwelcoming tone in Mr. Compton's voice.

"I do not belong in Shreveport," Eric Northman remarked casually. "I have not heard from my progeny in over thirteen years. She has not summoned me, and because she has failed to do so... I consider her safe and well. I have not felt the need to call on her."

"Thirteen years, is how long you have been absent?" Mr. Compton sounded stunned out of his wits. "What have you been doing with yourself all these years?"

"Taking late night hikes. Bathing naked in the river East from here. The usual." Eric Northman's voice was dry. "Keeping in touch with whatever seance of humanity I have left..."

"And this young girl," Mr. Compton began stiffly, looking me up and down. "You say she is your human."

This Eric Northman gave me a tiny stiff smile, with those fangs still in place. I did not like the look at all. Frankly, it made my skin feel all prickly. "Not yet, Bill," he said, rather nostalgically. "But she will be... in due time."