A/N: I got into the writing mood, which is why I want to post at least two more chapters today! :) Please review if you like it! :D x
- Chapter Six –
Wicked Ways
"Really, Nero, do try to look as if you're having fun."
Without looking away from his amused eyes, I viciously stabbed my fork into my spaghetti and gave him a wide, beaming smile. He took a sip of his TruBlood, watching the group of people that bustled past us as they grabbed the table behind us. They glanced at us with disapproving looks, because I was in a leather scruffy jacket and I had pink hair – one woman didn't seem to think it was possible for hair to ever be that colour - and he was wearing a simple wife-beater, black pants and large black boots. We looked as if we had won some kind of competition to get to eat in a place as nice as this, because they were all wearing gorgeous, expensive dresses and jewellery. This was not the case, as you and I both know. Eric was just a very wealthy kind of guy.
"Do you think a man taking an attractive woman out to dinner is some form of torture, Nero?" Eric asked, and I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh.
"Of course not." I smiled, merely because he called me attractive. He knew exactly how to get me on his side, and that was complimenting my already inflated ego. Ugh, I am so vain sometimes. Too much for my own good. "Sorry, Eric. So what will you do about Fangtasia?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well it was raided."
"They probably found nothing. This is not the first time it's happened, Nero."
"I guessed as much," I shrugged. "How is your Maker? Alliyah was talking about him the other night."
Eric's gaze became distant, before he focused on me once more. He cleared his throat. "Good. He was quite surprised to hear you were in Shreveport."
"What were you doing, the night I met you Germany? When both of you were posing as Nazi officials. Seems dangerous to me. You must have been after something important," I said carefully. He grinned, swirling his TruBlood around in its bottle.
"That, Nero, is none of your concern."
"Rats. You got me, I'm a nosey kind of gal. I was hoping you would have a moment of madness and tell me all your deepest, darkest secrets Mr Northman," I replied lazily, stretching in my seat. A woman in the table across from us took one look at my hair and scowled, huffing about how they'd 'let anyone in here these days'. I grinned at her. "You're right, sweetheart, with that outfit on you'd look much better in a brothel."
She looked positively outraged, looking at her husband and waiting for him to say something. He opened his mouth and turned to face me, only to spot Eric. Needless to say he slithered back into his seat much to his wife's disapproval. I smiled, knowing he was in for a rough night with his wife because he hadn't said anything to defend her. Woopsie, there I go again, destroying marriages. Can't say I felt much guilt about it. I sighed and looked up at Eric, who was smiling. Not smirking, smiling.
"What?"
"Nothing. I just find you amusing, is all. You have a lot of courage."
"What? To openly admit that that woman looks as if she found a trash bag and decided it was good enough to wear on a night out? Just look at her dress Eric, doesn't it make you want to vomit?"
He chuckled. "I see your point. It's hideous. You, on the other hand, look marvelous tonight Nero."
"If you are trying to get in my pants, you are doing a bloody wonderful job of it," I replied sarcastically. I took a sip of the drink on my table, eying it. I had had it many times before, but I couldn't recall the name. It was a dark liquid, fizzing on top. Eric seemed to read my mind.
"It's Coca-Cola, Nero. I haven't tried to poison you or get you drunk."
"Alcohol has no effect on me. If you tried to drug me, then you might have a chance, but I don't think it would last long."
"Are you really giving me advice on how to drug you?"
I shrugged carelessly. "If you're gonna do something, you might as well do it right."
He shook his head. "You are strange, Nero, even for a Reaper."
The group that had walked in earlier were now ordering. One woman had very nice hair, which I admired while Eric began talking about the raid at Fangtasia. It was a dirty blonde, much like Sookie's brother's. It looked a lot like my natural colour. I have the same hair colour Jason does, but I just want my hair to be pink. It stands out more. This woman sitting across from us had a nice red streak through her hair though. I should probably get one like that. Not with pink though, that would be bad.
"Do you think they will raid your bar again soon?" I asked once I realized he was talking about said raid.
He shrugged. "I do nothing illegal at my bar. I did not realize there was a human being fed on in the bathrooms. I will make sure it does not happen again."
From the small trace of a threat in that, I was certain he wouldn't. "Alright-y then. I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?"
"Bathroom. And no, you can't tag along. Try not to miss me too much Northman."
"It's practically tearing me apart," he replied sarcastically, raising a hand to catch the attention of the waiter to order a new TruBlood.
Even the bathrooms were fancy in this place. The name of the restaurant was carved into the pretty little soap bars. Ooh. Eric sure knew how to treat the Reaper women in his life, didn't he? After a quick trip to the loo, I began to fix my hair in the mirror, when I smelled something. My skin prickled, and I think you know what that means – witches. The horrid smell of perfume mixed with something similar to spices. I closed my eyes briefly.
"Hey sweetie, you don't have any eyeliner on you, do you? I seem to have forgotten mine. I must have left it in the hotel. We're only staying for the night, you see."
I spun on my heels, on my guard, backing up against the sink. The woman in front of me looked baffled for a moment, and I carefully hid the scar that Marked me on my wrist by twisting the sleeves of my jacket over it. Witches still had human senses, of course, which gave me an advantage. As long as she did not see the Mark she could not know what I was, right? I desperately hoped so. I gave her a beaming smile, realizing it was the woman I had seen earlier, the dirty blonde-haired woman with the red streak in her hair.
"Sorry, I'm fresh out," I said, keeping my voice strong. I deserve an Oscar. Bow to me Angelina Jolie, because I am doing a fantastic job of acting. She didn't even bat an eyelash.
"Ah, darn. Thanks anyway sweetheart. Hey, do you smell something funny?"
I pretended to sniff the air. She must be a very young witch. An older, experienced witch would realize that that was the scent of a Reaper. I was once told by a witch that I smelled like sweet honey. I wanted to reply to this woman and say something like, 'Yeah, it's the smell of your flesh burning while I tie you to a stake, you crazy witch!' but that would be blowing my cover. My hands were shaking. Yes, I know, it's pathetic, but what would you do if the one thing that could really kill you stood in front of you, asking if they could borrow your eyeliner? I wasn't even wearing any eyeliner to begin with.
"No. Just the soap," I said, giggling breathlessly, edging toward the door. She took my spot and began putting on some mascara in the mirror. "Well, gotta go."
"Thanks again!"
For what? I did nothing you damn witch. "Oh, sure, no problem."
I marched past the group she was with on my way to Eric as quickly as possible, grabbing his hand as I did so and pulling him from his seat. He almost sloshed his TruBlood all over the table, but with his vampire reflexes, managed to stop himself in time. He looked at me, his brows furrowing in anger. "What are you doing Nero?"
"We need to go," I babbled. "Right now, we need to leave, come on!"
The witch appeared, re-joining the table. They were laughing and joking, and I didn't know if they were all witches. I doubted it, because she was the only one who smelled of magic. Eric took one look at the nervousness in my eyes and nodded, signalling the waiter to bring his check. He didn't even wait for his change, just pulled us out of the restaurant without asking questions. I was grateful. Once we were in the car, I let out a deep breath. He waited patiently, watching me. We were still in the parking lot, with only a distant street-light to see with.
"Witch," I stated bluntly, and he raised an eyebrow. "In the bathroom. Asked for eyeliner."
"Have you had too much Coca-Cola or something-…" he began.
"No, let me explain," I snapped. "That woman, with the red streak in her hair. Did you see her?"
He shook his head. "I was more engrossed in our conversation, unlike you Nero."
"Hey, I'm a woman, we can multi-task better than you guys can," I muttered, not entirely truthfully. "Anyway, I went into the bathroom, and I could smell the scent of a witch. Next thing I knew, she was asking if I had any eyeliner. She said she was only staying for the night in Shreveport, so that's good enough for me. She didn't realize what I was."
"You look frightened," he observed. "I've never seen you show any fear before. Not once."
"Whoop-de-doo, Eric," I laughed. "I hate witches. If she had seen my Mark…"
"Mark?" he repeated.
I showed him the crescent shape on my wrist, and he stared at it for a few moments before I covered it up, as if I expected to turn around and find a witch peering in my window. Nope, no witches there. "Older witches know us by our scent, things like that, and our Mark. That's how they got Alliyah. But this witch, she must be extremely inexperienced not to realize she was chatting with a Reaper. What if she had figured me out?"
"I would have saved you, of course," he grinned cockily.
"Sure you would," I replied, smiling despite myself. Even though Eric's calmness was reassuring, I still a little freaked out. Running into witches was not a common thing. I had had a lucky escape.
"You really are frightened," he noted. "You are paler than usual."
"That could be because I'm dead, you know."
He started the car up, and soon we were driving. "Godric was correct."
"Huh?"
"Reapers have never been entirely honest as to why they dislike Reapers so much, yet Godric had a theory that it was because witches can use magic to evade Death himself. Not forever, of course. No one lives forever," he said as simply as if describing a recent change in weather. "But they can mess with him nonetheless. Like necromancy."
"He sees it as stealing what is his. Do they not know all the complicated work that goes with someone dying?" I muttered furiously. "They go to the Underworld, but a witch will drag them right back. And, they can kill us."
He turned to face me then, surprise evident on his face. "Kill you? But I thought-…"
"Like you said Eric, no one lives forever. Not even those on Death's side."
He remained silent, clearly thinking this over. When we arrived outside our apartments, I gave him a smile. "Thank you Eric. It was a really nice night. Despite the witches."
"Despite the witches," he repeated. "This witch said she was leaving Shreveport tonight?"
"Yup. Count our blessings. Night Eric. I'll try and come to Fangtasia tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Nero."
