A Southern Story
By Cigarette
Chapter Four: Some Trouble to Come
My article lacks substance. I'm not ashamed to admit this. I'm disappointed, but it is what it is. Though of course it's mostly due to my own laziness, I'm directing all annoyance to Eric for being so evasive. Since I had so little to go on, I filled most of my space with promises of what's to come. Vampire Opinion on Turtle Necks, Vampire Opinion on Human-Vampire Marriage, Vampire Opinion on Kittens, Vampire Opinion on Your Favorite Movies.
Okay, so it's trés silly. I'm fine with that.
I email it in while waiting for Eric at the airport in Dallas. I fear the wi-fi charges are going to be horrendous, and I'm trying not to think about it. Eric strolls by as I close my laptop, all gloom and gorgeous doom, and beckons me along. I frown, but like a sad little puppy I follow. I stare at him the whole car ride, because when I asked about what we were doing he looked at me like I was an annoying fly and refused to answer. Unfortunately he's unaffected by my seething gaze, but it gives me a nice excuse to admire his face.
Hotel Carmilla is brilliant. I want to meet whoever thought of this. Human or vampire? Either way, what a fabulous idea. There aren't many vampire friendly hotels around, and one in such a large city as Dallas has got to make a ton of money. At the check-in desk I pick up a pamphlet and for a few seconds just stare at it, completely confused. Asian female, 19, straight, A+. Caucasian male, 22, straight, B-. Caucasian female, 21, lesbian, the hell?
"That's the menu," I hear Eric say. I raise my head, mouth slightly agape, to see him watching me with a sly smile.
My mouth forms a quiet "O" and I put the menu back where I found it. Eric steers me toward the elevator, and I'm trying to ignore the feeling of his touch against the small of my back as we step in and he punches the floor button in. I distract myself by noticing we're fairly close to the roof, this hotel actually has a 13th floor, and my hair sort of has streaks of silver in it under this light … but not really. No one would ever notice anyway.
Eric's closeness is starting to bother me. I try not to think about it, but it's making me nervous. Why the hell is he standing this close to me? As casually as possible, I glance up at him. He's gazing ahead, entirely unconcerned with his surroundings. I almost think he's forgotten I'm here, but that's absurd. He couldn't not know. I'm like one inch from him.
The elevator ride doesn't end soon enough, but as we step out onto the floor into the fancy corridor of Hotel Carmilla, my heart suddenly skips a beat and my stomach plummets. I think back to our time at the check-in desk — although I hadn't really been paying attention, I'm sure he paid for only one room. I want to stop and say something, but I feel like I can't. I don't want to have to pay for another room. This place looks pricey.
Some rules will just have to be established. This will be fine.
Inside the room is spacious. All grays and blacks and whites. Grim but sophisticated and tasteful. Unlike Fangtasia ….
I drop my duffel bag on the sofa and straighten my dress out. I'm about to ask Eric what we're doing now (and am kind of dreading the answer) when he says, "Get your notepad. We're going down to the bar."
"Uhhn," I say intelligently. I expected a little more time to settle in and perhaps primp before setting to work, so I can't be blamed for being a little thrown off.
"Now." Eric doesn't wait for me. He turns around and walks right back out the door.
"Damn it," I hiss to myself. Hastily I grab my pen and notepad and rush out after him. Eric is knocking on the door across from ours.
"It's Eric," he says. "You wanted to talk." No response from inside. "Meet me in the bar."
"Who was that?" I ask, following him back to the elevator.
"An acquaintance," he responds vaguely.
Curiosity is nagging at me. "Okay, I have to know. No more evading questions. Why are we here and why did you want me here?"
Not even looking at me, he says, "You'll find out."
Irritation sparks in my veins, crawling up the back of my neck. Patience is not in my nature, and the fact that the only reason he's not telling me right now is he's an asshole is making me bristle. The fear is still there, but I can't be pushed around. It's times like these that I summon up my lineage and force out the inner arrogant bitch I was raised to be.
I speed up and zigzag in front of him. I'm practically on my tiptoes in an attempt to level with him. His eyes still go over my head, but he acknowledges me at least. My hands are on my hips, and my best "are you serious right now?" face is on. "Eric," I say, and wait.
He watches me with a sort of calm irritation. I'm dismayed to think I might have to repeat myself. That would completely kill the bitch affect because I'd get embarrassed and it'd quickly turn into an oh-god-I'm-getting-ignored affect.
I raise my eyebrow, click my tongue. The epitome of impatience. Eric relents. "Yes?"
"I didn't come here to follow you around silently. I came here for a story, and I want to know why you brought me."
The elevator arrives ahead of us. Eric suddenly grabs hold of my wrist and tugs me around with him, pulling me into the elevator. Inside I see his eyes and the next thing I know the doors are sliding open. Eric brushes past me. What. the. hell.
I stomp after him, my heels clicking on the marble floor. I hate being confused. I hate being ignored.
"Eric, did you just glamour me? I am not going to tolerate this treatment. If you think that I'm just going —"
"Hush." Eric turns so quickly I stomp right into him. My face is practically level with his chest. Holy shit, he's tall. My lips are suddenly glued shut and I can't breathe. In a low voice he says, "You are here on an impulse. It's a decision you don't want to make me regret." His fangs slink out. I gasp. His grin of satisfaction is enough to make me ashamed of my reaction, but I can't help fearing him, especially after missing time …
The conversation ends there, but after two minutes I wish I'd stood up for myself. It's just too late to say anything now. He grabs me by the arm and leads me into the lounge area of the bar, where he sits me down and looks at me. "You're here to take a biography of sorts. Not," he holds up a silencing finger as I open my mouth, "to keep me company. In other words, I don't want to hear you talking. You will write, and that's all you'll do." Eric settles himself into a lounge chair across from me and before I have a chance to fucking kill him for glamouring me a pale dark-haired man comes up and nods at Eric.
"Eric," he says.
"Bill. Have a seat." Eric gestures to the seat beside his.
I assume Bill is a vampire. The way he seems to know Eric and is yet not terrified of him suggests as much. It vaguely occurs to me he might be Sookie's Bill, but that'd be way too much of a coincidence. He notices me. "Who's this?"
Eric sighs and introduces us. "Bill, Marguerite Meyer; Marguerite, Bill Compton. Marguerite is my assistant in Pam's absence."
Well holy shit. Eric's warning is at the back of my head, but my mouth is open all the sudden and words are coming. "Wait, Bill Compton? Sookie's Bill?"
Bill smiles uncertainly. "You know Sookie?"
"Yes!" I straighten up in my seat. "I met her the other day. She was going to introduce me to you. I'm Daisy. Uh, Daisy's my nickname anyway."
His smile turns genuine. "Oh, yes, Daisy. Sookie did mention you —" and then a frown. "What are you doing with Eric?"
"I —"
"Enough. We have important matters to discuss."
With a look from Eric Bill and I are silenced, and the important discussion commences, which seems to consist largely of them subtly insulting each other. In any case, the focal point is the disappearance of a vampire named Godric. I believe Bill is right when he tells Eric, "This is personal for you," and while Eric provides a perfectly reasonable rationale for his interest, I sense there's more to it. I can see it. His eyes flick up toward mine for an instant, and I realize I've been staring at him. I quickly turn back to my notepad. It becomes apparent soon that this could be a huge human-vampire relations issue. The Texas Cowboy Vamps ain't gonna be happy if they don't get Godric back.
They decide they'll meat at Godric's tomorrow night, to discuss the plan of action.
That covered, Bill stands up to leave. I inch forward, anxious to say something but shamefully afraid Eric has had enough of me. But I was good throughout their conversation. I didn't interrupt a single time. So I smile at Bill and tell him, "Tell Sookie I say hi, will you?"
"Certainly. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear from you … even considering the circumstances."
The second he turns hi back Eric is beside me. I start as that smooth ancient voice suddenly speaks into my ear, "You know Sookie Stackhouse?"
Apparently this is significant to him. "Um, yes."
"And you have meaning to her?"
I'm caught off guard by that question. Do I have meaning to her? Uhhh … "I believe she considers me a friend."
Eric hums softly. "This certainly complicates our relationship."
I want to ask him what he means, but he leaves the bar. He says nothing more, doesn't even beckon me, but just strolls out. I'm not sure whether he expects me to follow, or if he even wants me to. And suddenly I'm in the bar of a vampire hotel all by myself.
Cigarette: I'm alive and oh so sorry. My world has really changed. I went from loads of free time, to some free time every now and then, to like 10 minutes of free time a day. It's very strange. Anyway I'm sick and off work right now, so yay free time! I'm sorry this is kind of a filler, but I wanted to see if my audience is even interested anymore. Let me know y'all. :)