Chapter 9: New Friends, Old Enemies
Eric's hands slipped into the pockets of his black jeans as he watched Sasha's red Camaro disappear down the road. A part of him wondered if it had been prudent allowing her behind the wheel; she might have been trying put up a strong front for the newborn's sake, but she was very clearly shaken. She had been just as unprepared for Peter's horrific revelation as he had been.
"Kid shoulda done it," drawled Pam. Eric looked her way. She stood tall next to him, her gently curling fair hair fluttering a bit in in the night breeze. "I woulda staked you in a heartbeat—no pun intended—if you'd pulled that shit on me,"
Eric nodded. He wasn't stupid, nor did he have particularly romantic notions of vampirism. There were some makers who truly loved their progenies, just as he loved Pam and Godric had loved him. Then there were those that presided over their progenies like lords, or those who turned humans vampire and then went their separate ways. Regardless of the relationship, it had always been an unspoken rule that a vampire assumed responsibility for the new life he or she raised. This regard for new life was one of the few commonalities vampires shared with humans. Peter had, at the very least, owed Jack an explanation, simply guidance. Instead he had fled. That had already been a grave offense.
But, as it turned out, Peter had committed an even more despicable act. He had abused Jack as a human, had taken advantage of him only to make him forget, and then he had done it again and again. As a vampire, Eric didn't think that he had changed so vastly from his days as a breather. Certainly he had evolved into something more, something better, but there were certain principles that he had stood by then and he stood by now. Children were off limits, and rape was the act of a coward.
"He's repressing those memories now, but Peter was right. Death will annul the glamors that he placed upon human Jack. He will start to remember now that he knows, and if he lets them, those memories will torture him, change him," murmured Eric. "I should have simply staked Peter, then he could have been spared all of this,"
"No, it's better this way," said Pam. Her usual smirk and air of disinterest vanished, and she kicked a bit of loose gravel with the toe of her loafers. It broke up as it skidded across the parking lot dangerously fast and sharp. "Those memories are going to be with him forever, what his maker did to him. They would have surfaced sooner or later; it's best he gets over it now. If he's strong, he will,"
He supposed she was right, and he trusted she spoke from a modicum of experience. Once he'd turned her she'd never dawdled on her past as a human, and had embraced life as a vampire with a zest he still had yet to encounter. It was one of the greatest qualities she possessed that he admired. Still, Eric was certain that her human life as a madam had been fraught with unsavoriness when it came to cruelty by the male sex.
But Eric thought Jack might need a lot more than just strength to overcome this. Turning vampire was difficult enough; he had been extremely unprepared, and he had also been so young. At his core, he would always be a seventeen-year-old boy, and his maturity and mentality would reflect that. Experience would only season him so far.
"Perhaps allowing Sasha to take him was unwise," said Eric, doubting himself now. If Jack was overcome by his emotions, if he lost control, that idiot girl would certainly put herself in harms way to try to help the newborn. And, if she got herself hurt or worse, she would do Jack more harm than good by placing her blood on his conscious.
"Worried about her, are you?"
"Prudent as she comes across, she's also shown a propensity for succumbing to her emotions very easily, like a—"
"Human?" drawled Pam. Eric glanced at her.
"Yes, like a human," said Eric, refusing to be baited by his progeny. Instead he thought back to earlier in the night, when that vampire had accosted Sasha. What was it that he'd said? "You smell like sugar and roses." Though there was something sweet to her scent, Eric didn't think it as sugar, and he certainly hadn't detected any rose in her scent. He didn't find it particularly floral at all.
"Pam, you were close to her. What did she smell like?"
"You," Pam said with a definite smirk. "It wasn't overpowering, but I'd know your scent anywhere, and it was definitely on her. How, exactly, did you reprimand her for her insolence? Spare no detail, please, sire,"
"Pamela," he said, losing patience. She rolled her eyes.
"She smelled like…I don't know. Flowery, I guess," she decided.
"Roses?" pressed Eric. Pam's eyes narrowed in concentration.
"No. Well, maybe a hint of rose, a little jasmine, fresh laundry—" Pam broke off, frowning now. "I guess she smelled like what Chanel No. 5 used to smell like, in its early days. I might have thought she was wearing the damn perfume if it wasn't so unmistakably laced with the metallicquality of blood. Why?"
"Curious," said Eric by way of both reply and explanation. He gave one last look down the road Sasha and Jack had disappeared down. "There's still quite a bit of clean up to do downstairs,"
"Fuck, you're right. You didn't send Ginger home by any chance, did you?"
Eric flashed her a winning smirk, and then he propelled himself up into the air, soaring above Fangtasia.
It wouldn't hurt to tail the girl and the newborn home. Just in case.
After Sam Merlotte left, Sasha went into the kitchen to sift through the fridge. Other than Tru Blood, it was mostly empty, as she'd been mostly eating at Merlotte's for the week she'd been in town.
A week, thought Sasha in disbelief, you've been around this goddam town and all of this shit's happened. What the fuck?
With a disgruntled sigh, Sasha grabbed the carton of orange in the refrigerator door and poured herself a tall glass. When she'd been home in Californiashe'd had pretty healthy habits, and it helped having a health-oriented cook at the other humans that were around for meals were the humans of vampires, and if they weren't bonded to their vampire, they at the very least allowed their vampires to feed on them. With this in mind, the chefs were very careful about providing healthy, nourishing meals to replenish the energy lost and negative consequences of blood loss. Sasha had been one of the few humans not to share blood, but it had been easy to pick up on the healthy habits. Since being on the road, she hadn't had a descent meal in a while. Merlotte's food was certainly delicious, but the mouthwatering greasy food was still restaurant food, and she was starting to think she just might kill for a salad.
Despite her craving for a home cooked meal, she had no motivation to go grocery shopping; such a mundane activity in light of everything that she had faced was unsettling. And so she leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped on her orange juice, wondering how everything had gotten so fucked were still so many pressing questions about Montgomery Manor—could she go back and face her ghostly grandmother? Did she want to?—but mostly she fretted over Jack. She knew of vampire therapists, but therapists for vampires? Most of them could probably do with some degree of therapy, especially as the centuries piled on, but it just wasn't done. Jack would need to talk about what he'd gone through, and she just wasn't equipped for that. She could hardly bring him to just any vampire therapist.
Finding her phone, Sasha picked it up and fumbled with it for a long time. Finally she dialed Eoin, waiting for the voicemail to pick up. He was in his dead sleep now, but he'd see her message when he woke up.
"Dia dhuit, Eoin," she greeted. She paused for a moment. "Okay, so I know I said everything was fine, but we both know that you didn't believe me. I'm fine, so no need to worry about me, but I, uh," she paused again, glancing at the door to Jack's bedroom. "I…kind of picked up a stray. And he needs what I needed back when—fuck, he's going to need a lot more than that. The thing is, the stay I picked up is vampire, so…yeah," she chewed on her bottom lop for a moment. "I'm in so much fucking trouble, I know. But this newborn, he's good, and he needs guidance. He needs Malachi. So just, just call me back some time. Labhairim leat go luath. Go raibh maith agat,"
Hanging up, Sasha stared at her phone for a long time. She was tired still, but she was also weary of going to sleep and dreaming. She knew she'd have nightmares about Peter, and the darkness that his confession had trudged up for her, all the nightmares she hadn't had in months. She was also weary of her grandmother trying to contact her through her dreams. Whatever decision she came to about that, it would be on her own time.
Dressed in an old Republic of Ireland jersey she'd pilfered from Eoin some years ago, Sasha stood in the bungalow's little kitchen, glasses on the bridge of her nose as she tried to focus on yesterday's paper. She'd taken it yesterday from Merlotte's to get a sense of what was going in the world, isolated as she was feeling in strange and little ole Bon Temps, and she used it now to distract herself as she waited for her coffee to brew.
Black and white and grainy, Senator Andrews and Nan Flanagan were shaking hands. She scanned the article—though not exactly pro-vampire rights, its author acquiesced that the AVL had certainly maintained its promises and brought Russell Edgington to swift justice. The author posited that, had he been human, Russell Edgington would have faced capital punishment for his atrocity on national television, and he was pleased that as a vampire he faced the same lethal punishment. The article went on to quote both the senator and the AVL rep, praising the Good Senator for keeping the AVL accountable and putting the rights and needs of his state before the vampires.
The paper didn't exactly distract her, and so Sasha threw it in the trash bin, claiming a coffee and taking it out to the front porch with a book she'd found lying around the bungalow. When she sat down in the white rocker out front, legs curled under her, the book remained in her lap unopened, mug cupped in her hands.
In this early hour, with a merciful cool breeze and the first light of day, Bon Temps didn't look so awful. The grass was green and the houses cute, air fresh and the world deceptively serene.
How much longer was she willing to stay? Peter was dealt with and, as soon as Jack gave her the go ahead, she was ready to put him on a plane straight to Los Angeles. Once she was free of responsibility, she could continue on to New York just as she planned. Then she could make up her mind. Would she lie low? Would she go back to school, go for a PH.D? Going back to school certainly appealed to her. She liked being a student, and it was certainly a welcome reprieve from the recent tragedies and craziness that had found its way into her life. She could go back to school, then maybe return to California.
Try as she might to avoid it, Montgomery Manor wormed its way into her head, and she wondered if this was truly something she could run away from. She had questions; why had her mother lied about where she was from? Had Sasha been to Bon Temps before, when she was a baby? Did her father know that her mother was a Louisiana native, or had he been kept in the dark? Why would either of them lie?
And there was her grandmother's ghost. She'd been so long without her biological family that the idea of a grandmother—even a ghostly one—sounded too strange, too foreign a concept. Had she ever even met her grandmother as a baby? Had this been fate all along? Had her luck with that ring just held out for long enough to get her to her grandmother, someone who could teach her how to harness the power inside of her safely? Sasha didn't want power, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she lost control again.
Sasha parked the car in the shadow of Merlotte's. He'd been quiet since he'd risen, and though she wouldn't go as far as calling him withdrawn, Jack certainly hadn't been as animated as she had known him to be. She didn't expect him to magically be okay after witnessing his maker's execution, and with Peter's revelation, she was somewhat surprised he wasn't spiraling now. But sitting around at home and allowing him to stew in his thoughts hadn't seemed like a good idea, and when she mentioned going to Merlotte's, he'd expressed interest. So here they were.
"Jack—"
"I'm fine,"
Sasha eyed him quizzically. She put the car into park and flicked off the ignition and turned to face Jack bodily. "If you're fine, then I'm seriously worried, Jack,"
Jack sighed, fumbling with the sleeves of his grey shirt. "I'm not…fine, no, but I just…I don't want to talk about it. I don't even want to think about that now. I can't. And it's weird, because if I tell myself not to think about it… I don't. If I was still human, I know I'd be a fucking mess, but as a vampire… I don't know. I guess I have a lid on it,"
It was true that controlling emotions was a lot different for vampires than it was for humans. Once they exerted that control, it was much more resolute than it was for humans; if vampires decided not to think about something, they wouldn't. Most humans couldn't stop thinking about the very thing they wanted to repress. But vampires were also subject to far greater—and deadlier—consequences if they lost control of those tightly grasped emotions.
"Okay," said Sasha. "We'll stay as long or as little as you want. Fair?"
Jack nodded, and then he was out of the car, eager to be inside the diner. She couldn't blame him; since death, he'd spent his time buried in a grave, in the cramped bungalow, or Fangtasia. She followed suit, tugging up her jeans a little further up her hips as stepped out of the car.
Merlotte's was busy with the usual evening rush, but they were quickly greeted by Jessica Hamby. The pretty young vampire flashed them welcoming smiles.
"Hi, Sasha. Who's your friend?" asked Jessica.
"Jessica, this is—"
"Jack," Jack said quickly. Sasha glanced his way in surprise. Though a bit shy, he thrust his hand out for Jessica to shake. Jessica smiled and shook his hand.
"Nice to meet you, Jack," said Jessica. She flashed another bright smile, then turned back to Sasha.
"Just you two?"
Jessica led them to a booth, taking down their orders. As she left Sasha caught Jack staring after her with obvious interest. She withheld a frown; she didn't want to say anything, but after seeing how withdrawn he'd been with the store clerk the other day when they'd gone shopping, the one that had been unabashedly flirting with him, it was a little strange to see him making heart eyes over Jessica. Jessica was very cute, but after the events of last night…it seemed a bit soon.
"So, Jack," said Sasha after Jessica had dropped off a tall glass of sweet iced tea for her and a Tru Blood for Jack. She waited until Jack's eyes had returned to her rather than their waitress's legs before continuing. "I know it doesn't sound very appealing at the moment, but there's some stuff we have to talk about,"
Immediately the small smile on Jack's lips dropped. His lips curled into a scowl as he leaned forward across the table. "I told you, I don't want to talk about—"
"Not that," assured Sasha. "But we have to talk about what happens to you now,"
"Oh," said Jack. He didn't look particularly pleased by this subject either. Sasha took a sip of her tea, then moved it off to the side. "You know I'm not staying here permanently," she told him. Jack nodded. "And…well, Eric's right. I'm not a vampire. I've helped you as much as I can, but I'm not your maker. You need a good, vampire guide, someone who knows what this is like because they experienced it, not because they studied it."
"You've done a hell of a lot more for me than anyone has in… well, ever," said Jack. "Even Eric, scary as he is, he's been great. You two have made this…bearable."
Sasha nodded. "Yeah, but, I'm not in any position to take care of you, not when I have my own…thing to figure out," said Sasha. She fluttered her ring finger at him, and he nodded in understanding.
"So if you want to stay here, then that can be arranged. Between Eric and I, we can come up with something," she promised him. "Or, if you want it, you have a place in California,"
"With your nest?" Jack asked curiously. Then, a little vulnerably, "They'd, they'd want me?"
"They have a thing for strays," Sasha told him with a wink. She knew it would be impossible for him to take her word completely—even though she'd been true to her word so far, he barely knew her, and he definitely didn't know her nest. It would take time, but Sasha knew that eventually Jack would overcome all of this. She had faith in him.
"What would that be like? Living with a nest?" asked Jack. "I mean, not all vampires do it, right?"
"No, of course not. There's a lot of vampires that live solitarily, or with their mates, human or vampire. As far as nests go, it depends," Sasha explained. "Some nests are born of geography and title. Sheriff Northman, for example, is the leader of his nest. In his case, his nest covers all of his territory. There are other nests within his territory, but ultimately they all answer to him because of his title as Sheriff. These nests are formal in the sense that the vampires within it are duty-bound to their Sheriff, but it's not necessarily a strong, familial bond. Other nests are formed when vampires come together to live like families, and these are usually comprised of bloodlines—a maker and their progeny,"
"And your nest?" asked Jack.
"My nest is a bit of a mixture. Some vampires are there out of necessity, because they're just passing through, and there are benefits of being in a nest. Protection, shelter, that kind of thing. But at it's core, it's a family," she said with a smile. There was a pang in her gut; she missed them so much more than she'd guessed she would.
"Most of the nest lives together on the compound. Everyone leads their own lives, but we're all always somehow involved with each other. It's nice."
"That does sound kind of nice, but also kind of like a cult," said Jack, brows furrowing skeptically. "A compound? And you're doing that thing where you think you're saying a lot, but you're being king of vague, Sasha,"
Sasha smiled ruefully at him, nose wrinkling. He was right, she was still keeping her secrets.
"I'm a human, Jack," she told him. "In a very weird position. I have to keep my secrets so I can stay afloat,"
"I don't get that either," said Jack.
"Secrets…knowledge… they make or break humans, but in the supernatural world, they're currency. The more you know about someone else, the more power you have over them. Even the smallest detail, something that might seem harmless or inconsequential, it says a lot," said Sasha. "Vampires especially. With the longs lives you lead…there's a lot to accumulate,"
"Or maybe, by being secretive you just give those secrets power," muttered Jack. Then he glanced up at her and smiled apologetically. "I guess it's different in your case, what with the…"
He trailed off and nodded to her ruby-less ring.
"Exactly," she told him.
"If I joined the nest, I'd be able to leave though, right?"
"You wouldn't be a prisoner, Jack," she grinned. "Again, I promise it's not a cult,"
Jack drank his Tru Blood. Then he asked, "And what do they get in return? They'll house me, they'll feed me—you know I don't have any money. I don't have anything to give,"
"Knowing Malachi—he's the…he's the soul of our nest, I'd say. Well, knowing him, the first thing he'd want to get you is a tutor. You were a senior in high school, right?" she asked. When he nodded she smiled. "Yeah, he'd want you to get your education sorted—education is a big thing for him. He'd insist you continue with school. The choice would ultimately be up to you of course. Then he'd help you figure out what it is you'd like, and help set you up with a job,"
"That's what he did for you?" asked Jack. "Is he the one that taught you French?"
Sasha nodded. "He hired tutors for me. I had a natural aptitude for languages, so I focused on that for a while, and I realized I really liked art history and history in general,"
"That doesn't sound so bad," said Jack. Then he admitted. "I hate school,"
Sasha laughed. "I hated school too, which is why I was all too happy when I was given the choice between going and having tutors. I chose tutors, and it was really nice to focus on actual learning instead of everything else that comes with school,"
Curiosity overcoming him, he asked, "Were your tutors vampire?"
"A few,"
"That explains a lot," muttered Jack. Sasha laughed a bit. Jack seemed genuinely relaxed—or at least, as relaxed as he could be, considering.
Jessica reappeared at their table, dropping off a plate of French fries. Sasha didn't remember ordering them on the side of her salad. "Here you go, Sasha. Sorry, but Lafayette said he doesn't make salad,"
Sasha snorted, pulling the plate of fries closer.
"I'm going off for the night. Mind join you guys?" asked Jessica, gesturing to their table. Sam must have put her up to the friendliness, Sasha thought, and sure enough, when she checked the bar, she found Sam Merlotte eyeing their table. When he caught her looking he tipped a pretend hat toward her and winked.
"Uh—no—go ahead, make yourself comfortable," stammered Jack. Jessica smiled, sliding into the booth next to him.
"So you're a newborn, huh?" Jessica asked conversationally. Jack nodded.
"Um, yeah. How old are you? Shit—is that okay to ask?" he added nervously. Jessica laughed.
"I'm still technically a newborn, I guess. I'm still under a year," she said with a shrug. "And my maker insists of treating me like a baby half the time, so I think I'm going to be considered a newborn for a while,"
As the two vampires settled into conversation, Sasha excused herself on the pretense of going to the bathroom. She did, then dropped by the bar, hopping up on a barstool.
"Thanks," she told Sam, nodding back at her booth. When she looked back, Jack was actually grinning ear to ear at something Jessica said.
"No problem," said Sam. "Can I get you a refill?"
"Yes please. What the hell is in the sweet tea that makes it so good?" she asked as he filled up another cup.
"Ain't the tea, hookah, its them hands that mix it,"
Sasha glanced to her left to see who had spoken. A dark-skinned and muscular man was slipping behind the bar. He was immediately quite the character, reminiscent of some of her human acquaintances from Los Angeles. His head was covered by a purple camo-print durag, and his eyes framed by an incredibly fluttery set of false eyelashes. His eyeliner was sharp and precise, enough that it made her want to run into the bathroom and fix the half-assed attempt at make up she'd tried earlier in the evening to hide her exhaustion. He topped off his look with a heavily sequined jersey tank top.
"This is Lafayette Reynolds. He's our cook," introduced Sam.
"He's also on break right now," said Lafayette, reaching for a bottle of tequila.
"So you're responsible for the two pounds I put on since getting into town a week ago," said Sasha.
"Guilty as charged," said Lafayette, toasting her with the bottle of tequila. He moved to the blender, tossing in ingredients for a margarita. "Y'all want?" he added. Sasha stifled a giggle when Sam looked on in exasperation as one of his employees, without waiting for an answer proceeded to mix his drink.
"And you're also the one that won't make me a salad?" continued Sasha. Lafayette snorted.
"Whos the fuck goes out to eat and orders a damn salad? Miss me with that shit," he said.
"Come on, Lafayette," groaned Sam. He glanced at Sasha apologetically, but she waved away his concern. "You hear from Tara lateley?"
"To tell me she was safe and that I could fuck off," said Lafayette. His dark eyes fluttered to his boss. "You?"
"Pretty much the same," admitted Sam. "You sure she didn't say anything? About me?" pressed Sam. Sasha pretended to be very interested in the drink menu in front of her as the conversation took on a decidedly personal tone.
"Shit, Sam, d'you fuck my baby cousin again?"
Sam turned red, glancing at Sasha uncomfortably. "J-just if you hear from her, let me know," said Sam. Red as a cherry tomato, Sam moved out from behind the counter, muttering excuses about checking stock out back, leaving Sasha with the sassy short order cook.
"Well fuck," said Lafayette to know one in particular. She watched as he procured two glasses and added salted the rim. He set them on the counter and poured out the margarita mixture into both. "Yous tryin' to get with Sam? Yous got good chances; he all over a colored sista's pussy these days,"
Sasha choked on her spit. "Um, no, I'm not,"
Lafayette shrugged as if to say, 'your loss' and then handed her the second margarita. "We'll put it on my runnin' tab," he said with a wink. Sasha laughed, taking the drink. Her fingers brushed the smooth skin of his hand, and he started, dropping the glass. It broke as the stem hit the counter, spilling margarita and salt across the counter and floor.
"Shit," he hissed, backing away from her. Sasha frowned. She stared at her hand; she'd felt an odd spark. Looking up, she saw that Lafayette was staring at her like he'd just seen a ghost.
"Fuck, I'm outta here," he muttered. He fled from behind the bar, leaving his drink and all.
"Okay," frowned Sasha. She turned and watched the man flee out of Merlotte's. "Weird." Definitely so.
After shaking off the strange encounter, Sasha returned to her booth to find that it had filled some since she'd left it. Sitting next to Jessica was Hoyt Fortenberry, his arm thrown over the back of her seat as he chatted with Jason Stackhouse. Jason sat next to Jack, shrugging off Hoyt's attempts to debate a football match that had aired that weekend.
"Look, man, I didn't really watch it," Jason was saying.
"What you mean, J-Man? You love college ball," said Hoyt.
"Just wasn't feelin' it," shrugged Jason. A moment of tension settled over the table, and Jessica deftly elbowed Hoyt in the side, shooting him a look of warning. Hoyt glared back at her defensively; Jack looked on in confusion. Sasha was willing to draw the conclusion that Hoyt was trying to lift Jason's spirits.
"I really should have ordered more than ice tea. I'm starving," announced Sasha, flopping into the available seat next to Jason. He shot her a grateful look.
"Arelene just got our drink orders, you can order something from her when she comes back," he told her. Then he glanced at Jack and back to her. "No offense, but how did this happen?"
"We're not together or anything," Jack said quickly, eyes shooting to Jessica. Noticing this, Hoyt's eyebrow rose. "She's my, uh, she's like my mentor. Like my caretaker,"
"Somehow that makes me feel like the old one," muttered Sasha. "I'm just helping Jack out with some stuff,"
"Yeah, I'm new," supplied Jack.
If a little suspiciously, Jason asked, "How new, exactly? You ever lost control feeding?"
"Hey, knock it off," snapped Jessica, shooting him a meaningful look. Jack began to look a little uncomfortable, his eyes straying for a moment to Sasha's neck.
"Just once," he admitted, voice small. The good humor that had been present in him was quickly vanishing.
"Not that it's any of your business," stressed Sasha. "But he's fine, and he hasn't killed or hurt anyone."
They were saved by the appearance of Arlene, the skinny waitress with the shock of bottle-red hair. She dropped drinks off, and Sasha put in an order. While delicious, the fries hadn't been filling, and she resigned herself to a burger since she wouldn't be getting her salad it seemed.
"Comin' right up," said Arelene. But just as she turned to leave she turned back to their table, looking down at Sasha knowingly. "You know, I just wanted to thank you,"
"Thank me?" asked Sasha, puzzled. Arlene nodded vigorously.
"I wasn't gonna say nothing, but," Arelene made a show of looking around. Then she leaned in. "The other day, you were in here askin' 'bout were my ex, René was buried? Well I could have sworn he was hauntin' me and mine. Then you came in, askin' 'bout him, and I haven't seen him around town since,"
"Oh. Um—"
"So thanks. Your voodoo, or whatever it is you people do, it worked. So thank you from the bottom of my heart, from me and mine,"
Arlene flounced off, looking like she might cry in relief. Sasha was left stunned, the rest of the table looking at her with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
"I know she was thanking me," said Sasha. "But I swear she was a little…"
"Racist?" offered Jessica.
"Yeah and really casually," said Sasha.
It was silent for a moment, then—
Jack was the first to erupt into laughter. He laughed hard, managing to choke out, "'v-voodoo or whatever y-you people do?' My God!"
Then Sasha was giggling and, soon enough, the rest of the table. They teased Arlene for thinking Sasha had banished a ghost. Sasha glanced Jack's way, watching the way he laughed, the way his deep blue eyes lit up. Yeah, it would be tough, but he was going to be okay eventually. She was certain of it.
They hung around a bit more, at least until Jessica declared that she had to go.
"Yeah, I'm kind of excited to get home. My maker's been gone for a while, and he came back earlier this evenin'. He had some excitin' news," said Jessica.
"Wait—Bill's back?" asked Jason.
"Vampire Bill was gone?" added Hoyt, confused.
Sasha exchanged a look with Jack, mouthing, 'Vampire Bill? Really?'
"Yeah, he uh, with the whole Sookie thing…I guess he just needed some time," Jessica said with an apologetic look towards Jason. "But he's back now, and I'm happy to see him,"
"You need a ride? I'll drive you. Since he's been gone I haven't been able to ask him any questions about Sook,"
Hoyt also called it a night, saying he had work early in the morning. The three left, leaving Sasha and Jack with the remains of their drinks.
"Who the heck is Vampire Bill?"
After overseeing that the basement had been cleaned to his Virgo specifications, Eric Northman retreated to his office. It was a slow night, and he felt no desire to sit on the throne tonight. He had a few receipts to look over—he was especially careful to manage the accounting himself or let Pam do it ever since Longshadow—and he also had his paperwork as Sheriff to manage. For all this talk about advancing, the AVL was still stuck in the fucking Stone Age. Would it kill them to allow reports to be completed electronically? He wasn't necessarily a techy, but even he could see the advantages of having everything electronic. With all the fucking taxes he paid, he was also certain the AVL could afford the necessary firewalls and virtual security such a thing would require.
In the midst of his mental brooding, his phone went off. It was Kimberly Smith, his on-call PI.
"Miss Smith," he greeted. "I hope you have information for me,"
"I do, Sheriff Northman. And you're not going to like all of it," Kimberly Smith said flatly.
"Of course there's bad news," muttered Eric. "Go ahead,"
"As far as the girl goes, I didn't turn up much more than I had before, just two more things, but they are interesting. I reviewed what your human PI turned up, about her adoption. He didn't dig deep enough; the orphanage and adoption papers, are a little off. This Rita Zapata woman, there's no evidence that she ever expressed any interest in having or adopting a child until the same week Sasha Buckley's papers show her up for adoption. As far as I can tell the divorce papers and the money she inherited from a divorce are made up. Someone went though a lot of trouble to make this girl appear normal. Whoever did the forging was good; there's no true paper trail,"
"Interesting," said Eric, turning a pen over in his hands. What was so special about Sasha Buckley that someone would go through so much trouble—legal and financial—to erase her background? This was as good of proof as any that he was right to suspect there was more about her than what she appeared. "And the other thing?"
"The other thing is an organization. I'm faxing you several documents. LA based non-profit, and Buckley seems to have worked for it. Its aim was to shelter and improve the lives of runaway children," said Kimberly.
That certainly fit the bill of what he knew of Sasha Buckley. She certainly had a soft spot for orphans, and it was confirmed she was one herself.
"It was a big deal over there, too, because it received some vampire funding. The AVL was pumping it for all the good PR it could get. Apparently vampires helping needy miniature human blood bags makes for good press,"
That had Nan Flanagan written all over it.
"Was?" asked Eric.
"It was shut down last year after an investigation. Seven children connected to the Haven Foundation went missing. Even the AVL had a hand in covering it all up, because suddenly good press had the potential to become a PR nightmare. That's it on the Buckley case."
Eric filed the information away for later, his mind already running away with different scenarios. "And the Queen?"
"That's what you're not going to like, Sheriff," said Kimberly Smith. "I tracked where she and her team last went. She was in Bon Temps, sir,"
"Bon Temps?" repeated Eric. "Seeing who?"
"Sir, the last known person to have seen Queen Sophie-Anne was Bill Compton."
Eric hung up after a quick thanks, feeling somewhat dazed as he dropped his phone onto his desk. Bill Compton? What had the Queen gone to see Bill about? And now Bill was mysteriously absent? He summoned Pam, quickly filling her in on the second portion of his conversation with Kimberly Smith. He saw the same dread he felt cross her features.
"Eric, you don't think…" she trailed off. "Because we'd be seriously fucked if…"
"She was nearly three times his age," said Eric, shaking his head. "And quite fierce when she wanted to be,"
"Fucking hell, Eric. If Bill Compton killed the Queen, then who's monarch? Certainly not Bill! And if he was, where the hell has he been? The AVL wouldn't have allowed tiny little vampire apologist—"
"Unless they facilitated this whole thing," said Eric. "There was no way they would have allowed Sophie-Anna to remain unscathed after the whole fiasco with the V. They would have had my head if I hadn't been useful to them. No, they know that Bill can be manipulated, perhaps they struck some sort of deal. It's why I would do, if I were in their place,"
"Why the hell would he even agree to such a thing?" asked Pam. "Since when has the little fry been a power hungry jackass?"
"He would have gone after Sophie-Anne for the same reason he came after us," said Eric, running a hand through his hair. "She knew what Sookie is. And although his motives with Sookie were initially questionable, I know he loves her. He would go to any length to save her,"
"Sookie fucking Stackhouse. Should have fucking known. I can always blame her, can't I?" Pam swore loudly. "Eric, you know what this means. If Compton is King, you and I are fucked,"
CHAPTER TRANSLATIONS: (Irish Gaelic) Dia dhuit= hello; Leat go luath. Go raibh maith agat= I will see you soon. Thank you.
Hi guys! Thanks to the new followers/favorites, got a lot of those last chapter. It's crazy to see how many hits this story has gotten this month alone-I really hope you guys are enjoying the story! This chapter was a bit of a filler, but necessary to the events of the next two or three chapters, so that's why it's here. I will probably post chapter 10 tomorrow because of that fact!
to guest reviewer Liza: I know poor Jack! And I really do think that Eric is a good maker and it's important for him to be one, which was why that whole Willa mess in season 7 didn't really convince me all that much. That and how he didn't really seem to care about Tara dying and her being Pam's progeny just didn't feel true to his character. Oh well. Thanks for reviewing!
