A/N: Thanks sooooo much for all of the pm's and reviews. It's hard for me to answer all of them and keep up with the writing, but please believe me when I say it makes my day every single time I get a message or a favorite alert. I guess I'm a pat on the back type of gal at heart. It's nice to be loved!

Anyhoo, now we're really getting into the heart of the story. They're hot on Eric's trail, but who will they find at the end of it?

Another dream sequence anyone? (This tune is so much easier to name than the other two.)

Chapter Ten

I was on a boat, a big one this time.

It was a yacht, like the kind I'd seen on the Travel Channel but never imagined setting foot on myself. Everything was white and chrome and made of polished dark wood. The shiny decks stretched out for a long way in either direction and I could barely feel the sway of the waves under my feet. I knew the boat was moving, because I could hear the quiet whir of an engine and my hair was whipping around in the breeze.

There was a clear night sky. Stars sprinkled the blackness like silver glitter. I could just make out the black image of an island off the stern. We were moving away from it, where ever we were.

I heard the faint sound of music toward the front of the ship, so I turned left and slowly walked toward it. I took a few steps and noticed my attire. Was I actually wearing high healed dancing shoes? And a long, wispy, white chiffon dress? I was dripping in diamonds - at my wrists, on my fingers, and hanging from my ears - I felt so marvelous, yet vulnerable. Like I was a character out of an Agatha Christie novel.

As I walked along at a leisurely pace, I peeked through the windows of the cabins that I passed, each one more luxurious than the next. There was a parlor with a chandelier and a grand piano. A billiards room, complete with a bar and lots of leather and green upholstery. The control room was in the front. Is that what they called it? The wheelhouse maybe? A pleasant looking older man in a white uniform stood at command, staring out the enormous windows. He turned to me and smiled, tipping his hat.

The music was louder now. I peaked around the corner as I stepped onto the forward deck, and let out an audible gasp of wonderment. There were scores of candles, all captured under hurricane lamps and safe from the wind. Everything before me sparkled and gleamed in the moonlight. Plush white couches rested along the perimeter of the bow. Tables were placed all around, piled high with flowers and decadent looking treats.

And then there was Eric.

Posed like he'd been waiting for the exact moment of my arrival, he popped a bottle of champagne. He was wearing a white tuxedo jacket that was made for him and him alone. His hair was trimmed short and slicked back, his face was smooth and unmarred. He looked like a blonde Cary Grant as he poured us both tall flutes of champagne, and I couldn't take my eyes off him.

"Hello, lover," he said with a striking smile. I could hear the longing in his voice already.

"Eric." I think I blushed. He handed me a glass and I gingerly took a sip. It was the best champagne I'd ever tasted, not sweet and thick like the stuff Sam kept at Merlotte's. It was light and tart and made my nose tickle.

"You look stunning," he drawled, leaning down and landing a gentle kiss on my cheek.

"You look pretty good yourself. You've cleaned up well," I said, a bit warily.

This was the funniest thing I could've possibly said, because Eric flashed another killer smile and laughed out loud. "I was having a bit of a moment back there," he admitted, motioning with his head behind us. The island? "It's much easier not to fight this anymore, so I've decided to have a little fun before I go."

"Go where?" I asked.

Maybe he didn't hear me, but I would've laid odds on him just plain old-fashioned ignoring me. The music seemed to swell and Eric hummed along with it as he sipped from his own glass. I knew the song, I realized. It had been one of Gran's favorites.

"Shall we dance?" he asked. Placing our glasses down on a nearby table, he twirled me into his arms in a flourish of sparkles and billowing fabric. I giggled, despite myself, taken in by the scene laid out before me. He sang the words softly as he stared down fondly at me, and I couldn't help joining in.

"Somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me, my lover stands on golden sands and watches the ships that go sailing. Somewhere beyond the sea, she's there watching for me. If I could fly like birds on high then go straight to her arms, I'd go sailing."

We were spinning around and swaying like Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, but I was distracted. I slowly stopped singing, and listened to the words more carefully. We'll meet beyond the shore, we'll kiss just as before. Happy we'll be beyond the sea and never again go sailing.

If it was all a dream, then how could I be aware of that fact while I was in the middle of it? The other dreams had been abstract, like a painting of real life. But this moment was real life. I was aware, I was thinking. Leaning my head on his broad chest, my mind was trying to wrap around something. But it was too dark, too far away to grab onto yet.

"Sookie?"

"Hum?" I looked up and saw the content disillusionment crumbling from his face.

"You're not happy."

"Oh, Eric," I sighed. "I wanna be. I just wanna be swept away right now, but none of this is real."

"But it is!" he insisted. "This is my boat and my crew and my money. Look," he said, pointing to a decorative round life preserver mounted under the windows of the control room. It said The Valkyrie - New Orleans, LA in big black letters. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"For what?" In general, I was no longer fond of surprises.

"For you, as a - "

My eyes flicked up and I could see the words catching on his tongue. For me as a what?

"For us," he corrected with a kiss on my wrist. "To sail around the world in, to see all the places you've never been to."

"I haven't been anywhere."

"Then it'll be a long vacation."

I was closer to his face in those shoes, but he still towered over me. He ran his fingers through my hair and then slowly caressed my cheek. He held my face between his enormous hands and sweetly kissed my forehead. Then he captured my lips with his own and just couldn't help it. I kissed him back with all I was worth. I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck, feeling his naked skin and trimmed hair. It was different and exciting and drove me crazy. I smelled the cologne behind his ear and it sent a pang right down to the center of my body. He pressed himself against me - he was just as ready as I was.

And I would've done it, right there on the deck of the boat, or on one of the couches, or bent over the railing, or leaning against the window as the captain tipped his hat to me again. But...

But...

It took every ounce of will power I had within me to break away from him. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"What?" He kissed my cheek, my neck.

"Where are we going, Eric?" I asked again. If I was aware of what was happening, maybe he was too.

He looked up from my cleavage, frustrated. "I don't know, it's your dream."

"No," I said, and I took a step back. "It's not mine."

"Don't you like it?"

"Of course I do," I said quickly. "It's all beautiful. But none of this is from my head."

"Okay, so maybe it's my dream." he replied with a childish smile, pushing his mussed hair back into place. "This is my boat, I had it brought over for me a few months back. But the rest," he said with a humble gesture, "Well, I guess I'm indulging a little."

"Why?"

He ignored me again. "I have a gift for you," he said, and I could hear the effort in his voice. "I was going to give it to you later, but ..." He reached down onto one of the tiny tables and picked up a flat, rectangular box. Inside it was a delicate necklace of dangling diamonds and pearls. In the center, hung a teardrop shaped diamond that looked like it could have been a crowned jewel.

I gasped, my hands covering my mouth. (I am a girl, after all.) Even if it was just a dream, my heart still skipped a beat. He spun his finger in the air and I obediently turned around. Lifting my hair, he clasped the treasure around my neck. I reached up and felt the center jewel, felt the weight of it pressed against my skin.

"This belonged to a Swedish queen named Margareta a very long time ago. She gave it to me as a token a few months before her death," he explained.

I looked over my shoulder. "Where you her lover?"

He blinked. "I would never give you something used like that."

Oh.

"I served in her court for a time, while it amused me to be a nobleman." I raised my eyebrows and he chuckled. "Trust me, it didn't last long. But she had a fondness for old Viking tales, and I always seemed to have one to share."

"It's breathtaking," I smiled weakly, that blank thought creeping into the back of my head again.

"It's yours now."

I sighed, still touching the jewel. Finally, I turned away from him. "No, not really."

"Just take it," he grumbled.

"I can't."

"Of course you can! Why must you be so damn stubborn?"

"I can't because this isn't real," I exclaimed. "Eric, why are we here? Why are you thinking these things? Are you putting them into my head, or am I it dreaming too?"

He stomped away from me, anger etched on his face. "You can't just leave it alone, can you?"

"No," I replied simply.

We both stood on opposite side the deck, our backs turned to each other. I crossed my arms and stared up at the starry night. What the hell sky was I looking at anyway? Was it just some made-up picture for my benefit, or maybe an image captured somewhere in the recesses of Eric's mind from a hundred years ago?

After a long, quiet moment, I heard him let out a heavy sigh. "I don't have a lot of time. Thinking about you is all I have left."

"But we can find you," I said adamantly, turning to him. "We're so close, I can feel you."

He shook his head. "No, that's what they want you think."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I cried. "You're physically hurt, Pam can feel it too. You're not thinking straight."

He quickly strode over to me and made a shushing noise. He looked over both shoulders, like he was making sure no one was listening, then he hunched close to me and whispered, "What you're feeling isn't real."

"I know that, dummy."

"Woman, listen to me," he growled between his teeth. "They're making me say things, making me feel things to confuse you."

"Well, I know I'm feeling real pain," I exclaimed. "I'm passed out in the back of Sorren 's SUV right now because I hurt so bad-"

"Sorren is with you?" he hissed excitedly.

"Yeah, and Pam and Bill too. I told you, we're not leaving without you, Eric."

He was suddenly very close, grabbing both my arms and holding me still. "Tell him that he needs to get you the hell out of the country."

"I don't understand-"

"They don't want me anymore, Sookie! They want -"

His words were silenced by a strange sound, like a slicing through the air. He grunted and fell forward against me. I looked down and my eyes popped in sheer horror. A silver stake was firmly planted into Eric's abdomen. He put his hands around it and tried to pull, but his skin began to burn at the touch of it. He stumbled backwards onto a couch, barely propping himself up.

"No, oh Gods," he murmured.

I realized he was staring at my dress, just as I felt a trickling down my stomach, onto my legs and feet. I looked down. The white chiffon was stained crimson, my crystal shoes were swimming in a puddle of blood. I reached up and felt a ragged hole in the fabric. I felt my own blood, slick and warm, covering my fingers.

"Now do you see?" I whimpered. Then the pain hit me and I fell onto the deck in a heap.

I woke up, gasping for air like I'd been trapped under water. I was screaming and then Pam was screaming. The car swerved dangerously around for a few long seconds before it came to a screeching halt. I was laying on my back, with Bill hovering over me. I wrenched up my jacket and sweater, expecting to see blood and ripped flesh, but all I saw was my own trembling stomach. My muscles clenched as the pain rippled through me and I got on my knees, curling into a ball on the backseat. I felt like I was pushing the stake out like a ten pound baby.

"What in God's name-" Bill exclaimed. Sorren was silent, his arms still locked at ten and two on the steering wheel, staring ahead and breathing raggedly.

Then the pain stopped, and I collapsed onto Bill. This was, obviously, a more significant moment for him than for me. He tried to rub my hair, and I swatted his hand away. Pam was gripping the dashboard, her head dropped between her shoulders.

"Mother fuckers," she slowly growled, like she was planning the deaths of first born children. Then the real anger settled in. "Mother fuckers!" she shrieked, her voice shaking the glass in the windows. She turned around in the seat and looked down at me, her hair sticking to the sides of her face in bloody/sweaty clumps. "This is bullshit! They know we're getting close and they're fucking with us."

Bill scoffed, and Pam shot him a look of pure venom. "Pam," he said, trying to use his most reasonable and condescending voice, "Unless those vamps up in the cave get a cell signal, there's no way anyone could know we're -"

"She's right," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "They staked him with silver again."

"Sookie, just rest," he said soothingly. "You've had a long night. We'll start again tomorrow, later tonight even."

I grunted, sitting up with much effort. "I'm sorry, did you become the blood-bonded telepath while I was unconscious?" I snapped at him and he looked at me like I was spitting lava. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to screw this up right now."

His chest puffed like a gorilla's. "Eric is my sheriff -"

"Shut the fuck up, Bill," Pam interrupted. She turned to Sorren and asked, "Where are we?"

"About ten miles out of the city. A fishing village called Tillflyktsort," he replied, putting the car in park and relaxing his body.

Pam locked eyes with me, and somehow she knew.

"We need to talk," she said. I just nodded.

She took a pack of moist wipes out of the glove compartment and wiped down her face. They were the kind Tara that used to wipe the twins' butts with. "Sookie and I are going for a little walk," she announced. Bill sat forward, words of protest on the tip of his tongue, but Pam cut him off as she reapplied some lipstick and powered her face with a Channel compact. "We are going whether you want us to or not, William, so I suggest you just sit back and take five." She threw a glance over her shoulder to Sorren, though her tone was considerably softer when she spoke to him. "You too, Thor."

We both climbed out of the SUV and crossed the street. We walked in silence for a few minutes, heading for what looked like the center of a tiny town. I could smell the sea air, and saw the piers and boats just off to the side of the main street. The buildings were all made of wooden planks, the windows were small and dark. It was a very old place, like progress had skipped over it a few hundred years ago. It had an old soul. There were no lights on, aside from a few street lights here or there. No one seemed to be at home, aside from a few cats and dogs wandering the empty streets.

"Anyone around?" she asked.

I concentrated for a moment, then shook my head. "Just a bunch of people sleeping."

"Good, now do you wanna tell me what the hell is going on?"

I sighed, zipping my jacket up. It was cold and foggy, and taking a stroll in the dark with a pissed off vampire had my little neck hairs standing on end. I was about to reveal a lot of very important information to her, or admit that I was officially ready for a white padded room.

"Did Eric buy a boat a few months back?" I decided to ask.

Pam's eyebrow arched. She paused for a moment, but continued walking. "Possibly."

"And register it in New Orleans?"

"Maybe."

I kept going. "Okay. Did he know a Queen Margareta?"

She stopped in her tracks. "I remember him mentioning her."

"She gave him a pearl and diamond necklace."

Her eyes widened. "How the hell do you know about that?"

"Because Eric just put it on me, on the deck of The Valkyrie, Pam," I exclaimed. "And I saw that stake being shoved right through him."

"By who?" she demanded.

"I don't know, he won't tell me. But he's upset we're here. He said that whoever has him is luring us, that he's just waiting to die."

"Hold the line - he's communicating with you through your dreams?" she asked, astonished, if not a bit put out.

"That's what I thought it was at first, because of our bond, or because I was missing him so much. But then he stared telling me things that just don't make sense. And the last one was so real."

So we kept walking, and I told her everything about the dreams I'd been having. I told her about the songs, the injuries, the different boats, how his moods seemed to change. That he'd all but implied it was a trap we were walking right into.

"It doesn't matter, Sookie. We're going anyway."

"Of course we are," I scoffed. "But if they know we're coming, then we need to be better prepared. We need more people with us."

"That we can handle," she sighed. "Sorren's weres will come."

"And Greger would want to help."

"Sure," she shrugged. "As long as he doesn't mind becoming a Happy Meal."

"Pam," I sighed, "He's Eric's friend."

"I know that, Sookie. Look, whether you believe it or not, part of my job is keeping all of your mortal asses alive." She looked at me with the faintest of smiles. "Especially yours."

I smiled back at her, even if it was a tiny, sad one. "I'm sorry if you've been mad at me."

She sighed, waving her hand. "Ah, it's not your fault."

"He loves you in a way I'll never get."

"Damn right." She squared her shoulders proudly, but it was a moment of pride that I allowed her to have with no judgment. We looked at each other, and I knew my good 'ol Pam was back.

Both caught up in our own thoughts, we walked closer to the water's edge. I looked over the side of the walkway and saw many small fishing boats and skiffs. I could hear the water lapping on the ancient seawall and the sounds of the boats rubbing against the wooden piers. I'd been to the harbor in New Orleans, but this was completely different. New Orleans was huge and dirty and overwhelming. This place smelled of seaweed and old wood and fish and history. It made my body feel comfortable and relaxed. I felt like I was at home.

Because part of my body was home. A very small part of me that flowed through my very heart.

I looked out into the harbor, and the light bulb finally blinked on. I shook my head, damning myself. I was such an idiot. He'd been sending me messages about the water the whole time. Why had it taken me so long to figure out?

"Oh my God, Pam," I whispered. "They have him on the boat." She didn't answer me and I turned to her, my eyes blazing. "Pam!"

She wasn't even paying attention to me. She was turned around, staring up at a statue we'd walked right by. Her mouth was hanging open, and bloody tears were brimming on her bottom lashes. I turned around to look, and felt the air catch in my throat.

It was a monument. A bronze statue, blackened with age, stood atop a beautifully carved piece of granite. The statue was of an adolescent girl with long braids and yearning eyes, wearing a nightdress and holding her hand out the sea. There was a plaque at her feet.

"What does it say?" I asked, my voice trembling.

She cleared her throat, and then replied in a hoarse whisper, "Evigt vila för vår lite Freyja." She looked to me and translated. "Eternal rest for our little lost Freyja."

A chill went down my spine. Pam and I stared at each other for a few seconds, then I looked back up to the girl's face. She had Eric's eyes.