Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize; it all belongs to Marvel, 20th Century Fox, Charlaine Harris and HBO.
Chapter 11: Worlds Collide
Logan pulled Eric aside as soon as Stan Davis and his retinue had disembarked. "Listen, bub," he said. "I don't appreciate you claimin' that we belong to you, coz we don't, got it?" Sookie held her breath, wondering what the Sheriff would do. From what she knew, Eric did not tolerate this sort of disrespect, although, strangely enough, he brushed it off when she was the one who disrespected him. There was a niggling suspicion at the back of her mind that he was giving her preferential treatment, and she was quite sure that it wasn't just her telepathic ability that was making him treat her thus.
Eric, to his credit, did not lose his temper, although he did forcefully remove Logan's hands from the front of his completely ruined shirt. "I had no other choice," he said. "He would have tried to claim you, otherwise, and I certainly did not want that, although..." Here, he paused and smirked. "I would have liked to see how Davis would have dealt with you." That was directed specifically at Logan.
"I would have cut his head off, like I said I would," said Logan. "It's very simple, really."
"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, have you?" asked Eric, shaking his head. He wasn't sure, but he felt he liked having a completely clueless nephilim as an ally, or rather, a potential ally. It made him so much easier to control. Of course, other troubles were sure to arise in the future. Howlett had made it very clear the only predictable thing about him was unpredictability and the smell of cheap cigar smoke.
The intercom crackled to life again. "Logan!" called Mystique. "Storm's on. She wants to talk to you."
Storm? He hadn't heard that name before. Was she another mutant? Either way, any acquaintance of the nephilim was of interest to him. Who knew what sort of networks the man had? Perhaps he was linked to things that Eric hadn't even heard of before. Howlett unstrapped himself and went into the cockpit, shutting the door behind him. The door was soundproof, supposedly, but he could hear the Wolverine's colourful swearing and the words 'Italy' and 'American Consulate', and he was intrigued. Europe might have taken the Great Revelation with much less apparent grace than the then liberal government of the United States, but vampires were still powerful there. After all, most of the elders had been born in the Old World as opposed to the New. Some of them had refused to leave their ancestral homelands and their well-established underground powerbases in search of fresher pastures. As far as he knew, they were doing as well as ever. Complicated European politics meant that the governments had a lot to distract them from the issue of vampires.
When Howlett re-emerged, Eric could sense the anger and frustration rolling off him in waves. Did it have anything to do with the blood he had consumed? At any rate, even if he had not been able to feel it, he would have been able to see it. The nephilim was no expert when it came to hiding his emotions.
"Storm and the others are being denied their right to exit the country because their damn papers and considered to be fucking legitimate anymore," growled Howlett. His words were meant for Marie, obviously, but he hadn't bothered to hide them from anyone. Perhaps he thought that it wasn't worth keeping secret.
"So what's going to happen?" asked Marie.
"I dunno," said Howlett. He sat down again in his seat, rubbing both his temples. "Hank's tried contacting the Consulate, apparently, but they're brushin' him off as well. They're not even botherin' to process the new papers. Probably think it's best if they can keep mutants out of their own damn country that they were born in."
Eric would have liked to know more about this problem that some of Howlett and Marie's acquaintances were having in Europe; it wasn't that he was feeling particularly altruistic, but he was interested in lending a helping hand, if only to convince these mutants that he was the one vampire who would treat them decently. He needed to win them over. His brother had always believed in diplomacy over violence and terror; it appeared that he had been right, considering he was now nigh untouchable by every other vampire. Even the Magister treated him at least respectfully. The Viking didn't see why he couldn't try the same thing with these humans with powers.
The plane landed just outside of Shreveport at three in the morning. It was a very fast jet. Eric wouldn't have minded having one of those at his disposal. Unfortunately, his income, although substantial, did not allow him to afford such luxuries. "Will you make it back to Bon Temps on time, Compton?" he asked. It was only polite, and while courtesy usually wasn't a virtue of his, he felt that it was necessary after everything that had happened tonight. Besides, he needed Compton's loyalty if his plan was going to work out. The last thing he needed was for that vampire to leak the news that Howlett was one of the nephilim.
"We will if you would be so kind to lend us a car," said Bill reluctantly. Eric smirked. He knew how much Compton disliked having to ask him for favours. It stung the former confederate soldier's pride.
"One will be made available to you," he said. He turned to the haggard looking humans, noting how tired they seemed. There was something to be said about being 'undead'; enough blood in a vampire's system always made him feel better, whereas humans needed sleep, and food and medicine, sometimes, to recover. "I will be seeing you again very soon."
"Why?" asked Howlett.
"Because you want an alliance with vampires, and if one is to be made, then people of higher rank than I must be involved, and in this case, it means the Queen of Louisiana, my liege. You've just insulted the King of Texas, Mutant; you need the friendship of other royals if you want to work with us."
Logan parked the borrowed car in Sookie's driveway. Mystique had elected to fly back to New York with Magneto, saying that the mansion should not be left alone for too long. They had more forces to mobilize. If they were to have an alliance with the vampires, then they would at least match them in numbers, or try to. It would not be an uneven alliance, where on side relied entirely on the other, and mutants, in this case, would need to get organized. The Wolverine himself was going to return the next day. Since he'd been the one who had suggested this alliance, it was only fair that he did some of the work to make it happen.
It was good to be home. Everything had become a bit dusty in their absence, but otherwise, the house had remained untouched, which was exactly the way they had wanted to find it. The remainder of the night passed uneventfully, which was a welcome change from the turbulence of the past few nights. By the time Marie woke, it was noon, and she was starving. The scent of bacon wafted from the kitchen. Slipping on a thin robe and reminding herself that she needed to get new gloves, she padded out to the kitchen. Logan was sitting there, drinking his coffee and reading the sports section of the paper. "Hey, kid," he said when he saw her.
"I thought you'd have left," she said as she went to pour herself a glass of orange juice.
"Can't wait to see the last of me, can you?" asked the Wolverine, raising his eyebrow mischievously.
"I do tend to get into more trouble with you around, and you can't deny it," said Marie. "Do you really have to be the mutant representative? Can't Dr. McCoy do it?"
"I thought they'd have him be the representative, to be honest, but you heard Northman," said Logan. "I think he's got somethin' up his sleeve, but we gotta rely on him to get the other vampires to even listen to us. He's a real piece of work, that one, even for a bloodsucker."
"No worse than Stan Davis," said Marie. She took a sip of her juice. "Where's Sookie?"
"She went out to get some groceries," said Logan. "Listen, kid; you sure you don't wanna come back to New York with me?"
"I'm not sure I don't want to go back with you, Logan, but I think I still need some more time just to figure things out," said Marie. "It's been a hectic few days and I really didn't get much thinking done."
"I don't like the idea of leavin' you here all by yourself," said Logan.
"I'm not completely alone," said Marie. "I've got my cousin, and Bill lives next door."
"And Northman is just three hours' drive away," said the Wolverine. "I don't like the way he looks at you."
"I don't either," said Marie, "but he can't touch me."
"I guess the cloud does have a silver lining, eh?"
"I guess so," said Marie.
"Do you need anythin'? Money?"
"Thanks, but I'm good, Logan," said Marie with a smile. He was always trying to look after her, as if he were her guardian angel. "Although, perhaps you could send me some of my stuff once you get back?"
Marie had been looking forward to a normal day. It was one of her nights off, although Sookie had to return to work. She had planned on lounging around and doing nothing in particular, perhaps watch a movie or something. Her cousin really needed a DVD player; some of the new movies that she wanted to see simply didn't come out in VCR form anymore. She popped in the Phantom of the Opera. Logan liked to sing along to the Phantom's parts when he thought no one was listening. He had a good voice; even better than the actor who played the Phantom. She smiled as she remembered how she and the other girls had giggled —and some of them had almost swooned— when they'd heard him sing. The Wolverine liked Broadway. There was no other way to put it. He wanted people to think that the only thing he watched were sports, but he had a secret love of musicals. Granted, his favourite was Sweeney Todd, a musical about cutting people's throats, mincing the corpses and making them into pies, and he also liked Phantom because it had a sadistic murdering torturer in it to spice things up, but still.
She was just humming along to one of the songs when there was a knock on the door. She glanced out the window. Sunlight was peeping in through the gaps between the curtains, illuminating the motes of dust floating in the air. Uncurling her legs from beneath her, she went to the front door. A man was standing on the porch, looking distinctly annoyed and aghast. He was in a pinstripe suit, which seemed to be an odd choice of attire given the warm weather lately. She opened the door cautiously. His hands were bare, so even if he tried to hurt her, he wouldn't have been able to. "Can I help you?" she asked.
"Are you Miss D'Ancanto?" asked the man.
"Yes," said the girl slowly. How did he know who she was?
"I was asked to give this to you," he said, holding out a flat rectangular box. There was a gold ribbon tied around it, and she could see that someone had slipped an envelope beneath the ribbon.
"Thank you," she said. Who would send her such a fancily wrapped gift? She thought about asking the messenger, but he was already back in his car. Well, that was rude. The box was light. She set it down on the coffee table, muted the television and opened the envelope. There was no greeting card, just a simple note folded in half, written in a strong elegant script that harkened back to a bygone age. People didn't write like that anymore. She found herself admiring the handwriting before she realized that she was really supposed to read the note. There was just one line.
You do not want to be killing anyone again so soon.
What the hell? Who wrote that as a note accompanying a gift? She untied the ribbon and lifted the lid —with 'Dior' printed on the top— off the box. Inside was a pair of elbow length gloves of forest green; her favourite colour. They were satin—not the cheap polyester satin that most chain-stores sold, but satin woven from silk. And they fit her like a second skin. She had never owned such a beautiful pair of gloves before, and she had no idea who could have sent it. It wasn't Logan, because he wouldn't know Dior from 'door', and he would never have written something like that on a note to her. It couldn't have been Sookie —her cousin was surviving on a barmaid's salary and bonuses from Eric— and no one else had any reason to give her anything.
One part of her mind told her that she ought not to wear them until she figured out their providence, but the more practical side took over. They were gloves, and unless they could poison her the way a poisoned comb did Snow White —highly unlikely— there was no harm in wearing them. Besides, she needed the gloves, which gave her much better coverage than the riding gloves that she'd gotten from the shops. Whoever had written the note had been right. She didn't want to kill anyone anytime soon.
She pondered the note further, tracing a fingertip over the beautiful writing. Who had written it? Would Sookie know? She decided to ask her cousin when she came back from her shift; that was, if she didn't go over to Bill's. The couple hadn't been able to have much time to themselves lately, and if she were in Sookie's place, she would have wanted to make up for it.
The world slipped into the gentle darkness of evening. Instead of making dinner, Marie opted for chips and cookies and all sorts of other sinful snacks that were full of processed sugars, artificial flavouring, sodium and saturated fat. After everything that had happened, she was allowed to indulge herself. She'd taken off her gloves since she didn't want to dirty them with grease and salt and sugar. She was licking her fingers clean of cheese flavoured powder from her Doritos when someone rapped on the door sharply. She wiped her hands and left them bare; she would put the gloves back on after she'd washed off the grease properly. As long as she didn't touch anyone, nothing could possibly go wrong, right?
She peeked through the curtains. A tall blond figure was standing on the porch, illuminated by the dim light from the sliver of moon hanging in the sky. What was Eric Northman doing here? Cautiously, she opened the door. Vampires couldn't enter unless invited in, so at least she was safe whilst she was in the house. And no one could actually physically touch her skin without getting hurt. At the moment, that was a bonus.
"Miss D'Ancanto," said the vampire with his characteristic smug smirk. What, no more 'little Marie'?
"What are you doing here?" asked Marie. "Sookie's at work."
"Just as well I wasn't looking for her," said Eric. "Are you going to invite me in, or are you going to come out to sit on the porch with me? Either way, it is awfully awkward to talk when you look as if you're going to slam the door in my face at any moment." Marie didn't move. Eric shook his head. "Like I said before, you don't have to be afraid of me yet, little Marie. At present, I have no intention of hurting you. You are too...valuable, shall we say, and frankly, I am curious. Now, are we simply going to stand here all night?"
"Sookie said vampires could hypnotize humans to make them do things that they wouldn't normally do," said Marie.
"That is correct, although I am not doing it to you now, am I?" asked Eric. "Trust me. If I had wanted to hurt you, it wouldn't be difficult for me." Marie considered this. He was right, she supposed, and since they were supposed to be negotiating an alliance between their two races, she really ought to be polite to him.
"Come in," she said reluctantly. Eric stepped over the threshold. "I'll just go wash my hands first." She took her time in soaping her hands and rinsing them off under the mildly cold water. Her thoughts churned furiously inside her head. What did Eric want? If he wanted to talk about the alliance, then he really ought to be talking to Dr. McCoy, or Mystique, or even Logan. She was just a nineteen-year-old who'd somehow been dragged into this. When she emerged from the bathroom, she found the vampire sitting comfortably on one of the faded sofas, with his long denim-clad legs stretched out before him. Without speaking, she slid on the satin gloves that she'd carefully draped over the back of a chair.
"I see you received my gift," said Eric, watching her as she put on her gloves. She stopped. He didn't seem to care, and he continued. "They suit you."
"You gave me these?" she asked. "Why?"
"Consider them a token of goodwill," said the vampire. He sat up and leaned forward. "And also as...as thanks for what you did in Dallas. I am...grateful."
"You've already paid us for that," said Marie.
"I paid Sookie and your friend. I didn't pay you," said Eric. "At any rate, you are now officially my human —one of them— and you will know that I always treat my employees well."
"I thought that was just something you said to stop Stan Davis from getting me," she said.
"It was, but it also means that you officially belong to me now," said Eric. "Words simply do not cut it with vampires. We need to see action being taken. But this is not what I came to talk about."
"What did you come to talk about, then?" asked Marie. She would also liked to have asked how he knew that forest green was her favourite colour, and the size of her hands, but she refrained from doing so because that would make her seem much too interested. She would simply have to be satisfied by the idea that he was merely a very observant man.
"I came to make you an offer," said Eric.
"What sort of offer?" Marie narrowed her eyes. This did not bode well. Eric must have sensed what she was thinking, because he laughed.
"You don't need to be alarmed," he said. "It's a job opportunity, and yes, it is perfectly respectable work for a young lady."
"I have a job," said Marie.
"One that does not pay nearly enough, and it is certainly not well suited to someone with your talents," said Eric. "If you agree to work for me, you will be paid a decent salary, with bonuses."
"And what exactly do you want me to do?" asked Marie.
"I need someone to man the souvenir booth," said Eric. "Someone who won't bite customers, kick them, or otherwise discourage them from spending inordinate amounts of money on whatever merchandise we happen to offer, but to also make sure no one makes off with things that they have not paid for."
"And you thought of me?"
"The usual cashier doesn't want to work at a place like Fangtasia, and the usual fangbanger is often too distracted to take much notice of the merchandise, unless they're the ones taking it," said Eric. "You seem like an intelligent young woman, Marie D'Ancanto. Why shouldn't I have thought of you?"
"That is all I'll have to do?" asked the girl. It seemed too good to be true. Yes, she needed the money; she felt guilty about not paying her for her food and board whilst staying at Sookie's. Her cousin wasn't well off and she was well aware of that, despite what Sookie might say. She wanted to help out; perhaps pay the electrical bills or the phone bills or get internet connection for the house or even just get her a DVD player. Eric's offer was sounding very attractive. "You're going to hire me to watch your souvenir booth and that's it?"
"Well, I need someone to help me run my antivirus program," said the vampire.
A/N: Sorry there wasn't much action going on in this chapter. I'll go back to it soon enough. I will also be talking about vampires in Europe and Asia in the future, because I am obsessed with those two continents as well as medieval history. Watch out for crusader vampires in bulk!
