Chapter Twelve

Carly drove to the house Anna shared with two roommates-other art students at the university. It was on a quiet street on the outskirts of downtown Shreveport that looked like most other gentrifying southern neighborhoods. Bohemians and students coexisted with older African-American families and more recent Latin-American immigrants. After finding a space that accommodated the moving truck a few houses down from Anna's, Carly walked the short distance and knocked on the door.

"Oh my god, Carly," Anna embraced her suddenly, and Carly patted her arm and strained against the unexpected closeness. "Is everything okay? Were you frightened? This is a horrible way to meet Shreveport."

"I'm fine, Anna," Carly tried to avoid eye contact, because she didn't really need any window into what Anna was thinking. It was clear enough. "I didn't even hear or see anything."

"That's good. It's been on the news already. They said it was 'completely horrific'." Anna seemed to expect a story, but Carly didn't want to indulge her.

"Well, one person's horror is another person's..." Carly lost control of the analogy as she surveyed the living room of the bungalow style house. "The woman who found it didn't seem too upset. She just said, 'People are crazy.'"

"I'm just glad you're okay. I have muffins in the kitchen and coffee. Do you want some? I have to call everybody else. My roommates are going to help too."

"That's great. Thanks for everything, Anna." Carly came in and availed herself of the light breakfast and discovered she was hungrier than she expected she would be.

Anna rushed around the house, summoning her roommates and their partners. As she moved around, Carly noticed that Anna seemed much thinner and paler than she'd been in early May. She had bags under her eyes, and her hair seemed flat and wan. She looked like she'd dealt with a major illness recently, and Carly felt horribly guilty for imposing on her.

"So, Anna, how was your summer? Everything go okay? Have you felt well?'

Anna smiled, almost dreamily, "I haven't gotten a lot of sleep the last month or so."

"Oh, is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything's wonderful." Her smile brightened up suddenly. "I've got a new man in my life, and I've been keeping a different schedule than I'm used to."

Carly resisted the temptation to extract more information from her new friend, successfully, although she'd rarely been more tempted. "Well, you have to remember to take care of yourself."

"Oh, I will. I guess it's just all so new." Anna didn't seem inclined to volunteer a lot of information.

Carly thought she might be able to get a few more details with well-placed questions between sips of coffee and bites of muffin. "Where did you meet him?"

"At the studio!" Anna was very excited. "He's an artist. His work is sublime." Anna got dreamy again.

"I'm excited to see it."

"I'll make sure you know when he shows."

"Great."

Four other people joined them in the kitchen, a young woman and three young men, all Carly's age or younger. The young woman was very thin and bony, with tattoos around both wrists, and the man who appeared to belong to her had a two-tone haircut, a nose ring, and disks in his ear-lobes. He wasn't quite as thin as his girlfriend, but he seemed exhausted. The other two men were self-consciously clean-cut, and very attached to each other. After a quick introduction, the two young men who were partnered up with one another struck up a conversation with Carly, while the others moped around the kitchen, sipping their black coffee tentatively.

"Anna tells us you grew up in New York." They both had gorgeous southern accents that would have done beautifully in the film "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil."

"When I was little. But I spent most of my childhood outside Flemington, New Jersey, on a farm." Anna loved New York, but she usually couldn't recreate the enthusiasm for its frenzied life that most people wanted when they met 'real New Yorkers.' "And then I went to the University of New Mexico and then the University of Tennessee. I had a post-doc in Memphis last year. My family still lives in New York City."

The taller of the two—the not-roommate-whose name was, unfortunately for him, Jethro, suggested, "The south won't frighten you away then. You're not a completely uninitiated Yankee."

His partner, Alex, nodded. "We usually get one or two Yankee students who float down the river and then fly back home, just horrified!" Alex punctuated each utterance with a wink and wild hand gestures. They made Carly feel at home, and she was excited that Anna seemed to have found at least two healthy, strong hands who could help move her things.

The group caravanned over to the converted industrial building—a former light industry factory and warehouse. Carly didn't know if it would be where she'd stay if the position became permanent, but it would do until the lease run out. Anna followed the van in Carly's Subaru, which had been parked under their car-port all summer, and four others friends met them there. The three young women and one man all looked strong, healthy, and well-rested, so Carly began to have hope that this wouldn't be a terribly difficult experience.

Carly pulled to a back entrance of the complex—a high metal gate that led to a loading bay and a huge industrial elevator. The building was supposed to be very secure, accessible only by residents with access codes. Visitors could call from a phone on the front gate and get buzzed in by residents. Carly wouldn't be able to use this feature until she got her phone service hooked up, but she didn't expect any visitors. Until her apartment was presentable, she'd meet anyone she needed to—she thought of Eric and Sookie—on their territory, not hers.

The elevator had four huge flat-bed dollies, so it only took two trips to unload the van. After all the boxes and small pieces of furniture were in the loft, Anna and Carly returned the U-Haul and picked up some necessary items and pizza and drinks. None of them wanted any beer that early in the day, so Carly reneged on that part of the bargain. With the short work of the move finished, Carly had an impromptu pizza party and they all got a chance to know each other a little bit more. All of the students were happy to share their favorite stories about Shreveport with the new resident.

Greta, Anna's emaciated roommate, extolled the wonders of the Red River as a place to paint. "It really shows how nature just doesn't want people around." But Jethro contributed, "Shreveport's really becoming somewhere great. And there's the Louisiana Boardwalk across the river in Bossier. A lot of people just say 'Shreveport-Bossier,' but it's a mouthful."

Carly also learned that she should call the area Ark-La-Tex, but decided she couldn't say that with a straight face and would rely on the tried and true "Tri-State Area" if she ever needed to talk about the intersection of the three southern states.

Greta's boyfriend, Brian, chimed in, "What's really gonna be cool is the vampire club that's going in downtown."

"Really?" Carly already guessed what it would be called. "What's it's name? 'Dracula's Den'?"

"It's goin' in an old strip joint called Fantasia, so they're gonna call it 'Fangtasia.' Fucking cool, right?"

Jethro and Alex, and a few of the other latecomers groaned. "I don't like puns. They're demeaning," Jethro offered.

''It's still gonna be cool to hang out with vamps." Brian looked over his shoulder at Anna, who was sending off the other non-roommate helpers, who had other commitments. He leaned toward Carly and said "You heard about 'V'?

Jethro and Alex got visibly uncomfortable, and Jethro said disapprovingly, "I'm sorry. I don't have these kinds of conversations. Alex, let's go, we've got to get cleaned up for tonight." They got up to leave, and offered a parting shot, "Carly, I'm ecstatic to know you and hope that you don't wind up being a person I wouldn't like to know." Alex looked meaningfully at Brian on his partner's behalf.

"I really hope not," Carly was sorry, because she would have preferred to hang out with Jethro and Alex rather than humoring someone who offended almost all her sensibilities. At the same time, she wanted to know as much about human reactions to vampires as she could, since she'd missed the opening salvo of the "new normal." Even though she wasn't going into a faculty track, academia had programmed her to look at "research problems." Human responses to vampires would make a great anthropological study. Thank you so much, "Jethro and Alex. I really would like to hang out with you two again."

After their exit, Anna returned to the group, and Brian clammed up, so Carly never found out from him what 'V' was all about. As ill-mannered and ill-healthed as he seemed to be, Carly didn't really want to poke around inside his brain to figure out what he wanted to share with her.

Finally, Anna gave Carly a packet with her lease, her apartment key, a card with the access codes for both gates, and said farewell. Anna showed herself out with Greta and Brian.

Carly had an air mattress, pillows, linens, and towels in a box she'd set aside, so she blew it up. Even if she got herself to go shopping for a bed and couch, it wouldn't be delivered, probably until the next week, so she might as well get comfortable. She was also very, very tired.

Even though Anna had sent her pictures over email, Carly really didn't have any particular feel for her apartment, which looked like a typical loft, with huge windows along the external, north wall. It also had one skylight that opened and closed by means of a switch—an unexpected benefit, since Carly wasn't expecting a top floor apartment. Nearly square, except for an enclosed closet and the bathroom, the apartment would need some kind of dividers to make it feel like a livable space. The architect had designed bookshelves and a desk that stood along the same wall as the closet. They jutted out into the room slightly. Carly opened the closet, which provided extensive storage space. It had a really cool rotating coat bar that operated with a small electric motor. As a result, she didn't need to rummage in the closet to get clothes or anything else out of it.

But when Carly moved back into the main room, she was bothered by the proportions of the closet and desk-bookcase combo. It looked to her as if the closet should extend all the way behind the desk to the external wall, but, instead, it ended where the first bookcase began.

"Probably plumbing or electrical." Even if they were just the bones of buildings, the internal architecture and mechanical elements of houses fascinated her almost as much as human bones. She went back into the closet and looked for an entrance to the unexplained area. After knocking around for quite a long time, she discovered a spring-activated panel that, when pressed, released an otherwise invisible door into the remainder of the closet. Instead of a water heater, or huge group of water pipes or electrical conduits, the floor space was comparatively open: effectively, it was square foot area without any lights or windows. Carly thought for a few minutes about what she might put there. Her dig equipment—really camping gear—wasn't pretty and took up a lot of space, so this might be a good place for it. But she'd have to get a battery-operated light. It was just too dark in there to operate, and Carly always hated dark closets, because they made retrieving stored items so difficult.

Before she started unpacking, she called the phone company to set up her telephone and internet service, which came together pretty quickly, although she had trouble securing an appointment to get it set up.

Carly also mustered the courage to call and leave Eric a message to let him know that she was in town. She'd thought of him, and of Sookie, often that day, especially when the grad student helpers started joking or flirting with each other. But her desire to see Eric was much stronger. Carly really needed to figure out what had actually happened the other night when he was in his room, what her assumptions meant about how she felt about him, and why on earth it was okay for Jean-Jacques to blab to perfect strangers that Eric was a 1000 year old Viking when he'd tried to glamour her into silence. She had too many questions to sit alone and ponder without getting even more neurotic than she already felt. She also needed to quiz him about decent hotels, because her crowd of graduate students hadn't given her any meaningful suggestions, just cautionary tales.

She plugged her cellphone into the wall to charge and dialed Eric Northman's cellphone number.

"You've reached Eric Northman's voice mail. I'm indisposed, currently. Please leave a message."

"Hi, Eric. This is Carly Michael. Sorry that I didn't call you last night to let you know that I was here. I had to call my mom and forgot you'd probably like to know that I'd arrived. I'm in my new apartment, the Industrial Lofts, and they seem nice. Anyway, could you give me a call-you should have the number on your caller ID. I'd like talk to you or maybe see if we could meet up somewhere."

Carly was fairly certain that the voice mail cut her off after "talk to you." What the hell am I doing? I should just let this rest. He's going to think I'm pursuing him, which I probably am. If this isn't a recipe for an abusive relationship, I don't know what the hell is. I'm a fool.

Maybe the supervisors at the lab know a good therapist or two who could do sessions on the phone.

She had a plan of action for the first time. She'd get some references from local folks, and call the therapists to tell them that she had issues talking about her problems, and would like to start therapy over the phone, so she didn't have to worry about letting down her guard or getting upset. Carly felt ridiculously proud of herself for this simple idea.

Since Anna had also insisted that they stop for necessary items—coffee, milk, paper towels, toilet tissue—before they got pizza, Carly was in for the night, so she focused all her energy on setting up her stereo and unpacking her kitchen. She put her spartan kitchen supplies away quickly and moved on to the books, accompanied by the strains of her Cleaning Mix CD, a wacky combination of the Go-Gos, Cyndi Lauper, Oasis, New York Dolls, and odd dribs and drabs of heavy metal and country music.

Carly felt she was making good progress. She stooped to examine the inside of the low bathroom cabinet, so she could find places for the few bathroom items she'd kept from her Memphis apartment, towels, and other necessary items, when her stereo cut out and she heard, "Carly, this place isn't safe for you."

When Eric Northman spoke those words in his ominous, unexpected baritone, Carly startled, violently banging the back of her head against the latch of the cabinet. Not only did she hit herself so hard she was incoherent, but she knew she was also bleeding heavily from the impact.

Before she really understood what was happening, she was lying on her air mattress, Eric's wrist to her mouth, and she was sucking again on his blood, so sweet and savory, full of unwholesome, but delectable flavor. After three big swallows, she was coherent, aware, and out of pain. "Eric, what the hell. Why did you startle me like that?"

"I'm really sorry, Carly. I never meant to do that. I just got overwrought when I came in your apartment. Your door was open, and I just walked in." Eric was looking around, crouched in a position that made Carly think he was expecting attackers from every direction. He was on alert.

"I guess I didn't lock it when everybody left. I don't know why it was ajar. Probably one of the neighbors looked in—the music was on pretty loud. It also might have just been the wind." Carly had opened a window and the sky-light earlier. The pressure difference might have popped the door.

Eric looked at her seriously, "Carly, you don't understand. I just walked in."

Carly disengaged and became suddenly aware of her bloodied hair, shirt, floor, and mattress, and said "No, I don't understand, but I'm a mess. I've got to clean this up."

"You shouldn't move. Let me do it." With that, Eric moved around the room in a blur for a few moments. When he stopped in front of her again, Carly thought she needed to get an MRI or a CAT scan, because she was certain she was hallucinating from a concussion or other brain damage.

"You need to wash off and put on something clean. Where are your clothes?" Carly pointed absently at her suitcase, duffel bag, and a few boxes marked "clothes."

A few more blurs, accompanied by the sound of ripping and tearing, and Eric was back with a full set of clothes, one of her nicest casual outfits, underwear, bra, and shoes, and was helping her into the bathroom. "While I'd happily undress you, you probably wouldn't be happy with me." He started the water. "But let me know when you're in the shower. I want to be at hand if you get dizzy."

He left the room and closed the bathroom door. Carly felt fine, but was incredibly confused, and was absolutely horrified by her reflection. She looked like Carrie at the prom.

Once in the shower, Carly called out, "Okay, I'm in. You can come back. Just no peeking."

Eric's subtly humming mind, now that she was paying attention and not caught up in her music, was just on the other side of the curtain. "Do you need anything?"

"Just a towel, but they might have blood on them too. There are more in a box outside the door. Can you put one on the toilet?"

"I'll hand it to you when you're done. You can dry off and then I'll help you out. I don't want you to fall."

His concern was touching, but Carly really felt fine. She felt strong, pretty focused, and had no pain whatsoever from her gruesome injury. The only thing that really upset her was the glimpse she got of Eric from the bathroom mirror, visible through a small gap in the shower curtain that she was trying to close. Eric was holding her shirt and was ringing out the blood into his mouth. That sight shook her, and she slipped suddenly, although she recovered herself and didn't fall.

"You okay?" Eric reached through the shower curtain and grabbed hold of her arm, the plastic blocking their skin-to-skin contact.

"I'm fine, really. Let me wash up."

Carly dried, wrapped herself up, and Eric monitored her exit from the bathtub.

"Get dressed, and we'll talk," Eric instructed.

Once out of the shower, healed and cleaned, Carly walked back into the main room and found Eric perched on top of a box of books that sat next to the only armchair she had ever owned.

"Carly, please sit down." Eric gestured next to him at the armchair.

"Don't worry, I know where to sit. I've never given myself too many choices in any of my places." Carly smiled, proud that she could make a joke at her own expense in such a stressful situation.

Eric began, "Vampires haven't told humans about many of our limitations. So, again, please don't share this with anyone, because if it came back that I released the information, I'd probably have someone on my case."

Carly responded, "Okay."

"Vampires can't enter a human home—house, apartment, even a hotel room—without a direct invitation from someone who lives there. Carly, I need to see your lease and figure out if there's been some kind of alteration to a typical contract that allowed me to come inside."

"Wait a minute, what do you mean 'you can't enter a human home.' You came into the trailer in Sweden..."

"On my own property."

"Oh...right. So, what, your manners are so good you die of guilt?" Carly understood cultural taboos, and knew that, at their core, any taboo was breakable, even one that was universally repellent.

"No. It's not just cultural practice. We cannot enter the home—there's a barrier there that we cannot penetrate. We feel it, and we can't move through it. If we've been invited into a home and that welcome is rescinded, we're cast out. The barrier moves us from the human's presence all the way out of the structure."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously." Eric shook his head. "I know you won't believe me until I show you. It's really not pleasant to get cast out, but if it will make you believe the barrier exists, I'll let it happen so you'll know."

"So you're saying I should have had to invite you inside the building for you to get here?" Carly was still trying to process the rules.

"Not the building, since there are common spaces, but I should have been blocked from entering your apartment itself."

"How did you get in the building?"

"When I buzzed and didn't hear from you, but felt you there, I glamoured a resident to let me in."

"You really shouldn't do that, Eric."

"I was worried. When the apartment door was open, I was frightened for you and came straight in, terrified that you'd been killed and I just didn't know it yet for some reason..."

"Killed? What?"

"The barrier dissolves with the death of the resident. I was so thankful when I saw you, I didn't think that you'd be frightened and hurt yourself." Eric touched her head gently. "The last thing I want to do is to harm you or see you wounded."

It popped into her head without warning or filter, "You sucked my blood from my shirt, Eric."

He smiled, "I would have preferred to suck it from your leg." He winked.

For once, she didn't blush or run away. Perhaps this is progress. "Isn't that gross?"

"Was it gross to take my blood?"

Carly thought for a moment. "No. It wasn't. But I just don't think it can be good for me to do it." And then another question occurred to her. "How did you know where my apartment was?"

"First, I could feel vaguely where you were, although it's not a strong sense. Second, and most significantly, your name was listed on the buzzer, along with your apartment number. Take that off, if you stay here. You shouldn't have both—one or the other, but not both."

"I didn't do that. My friend Anna did it for me."

"Well, fix it if you stay. Can I see your lease now?"

Eric examined the lease, saw Anna's signature on the line and said, "Here's the..." and then saw the limited power of attorney that Carly had signed in May that gave her authorization to sign as Carly's proxy for the lease and for insurance purposes. "No. That's not it."

He read over it again and said, "This is it."

"What's the problem?"

"Your lease grants the building owners and their designees the right to enter the property without prior 'lessee permission or invitation for good cause'. It also says you do not have to be notified of that access."

"Oh, my god, Anna signed that! That's creepy."

"That also means that someone plans to use this building as a safe-house, or a place to shelter vampires." Eric shook his head violently, "We have to get you out of here. You won't be safe here, even for one night."

Carly thought of the closet immediately. "Eric, can I show you something?"

Even though it was a tight fit for the two of them under the rotating clothes-bar, Eric and Carly squeezed into the closet, and Carly released the hidden latch. "Could a vampire hide in here?"

Eric sighed, "Not only could a vampire hide here, its installation was probably ordered by a vampire. Do you remember the closet door in my hotel suite?"

"Sure. You made me laugh until I snorted." Carly smiled at the memory.

"That latch, and this one, was manufactured, and likely installed, by the same company, which is owned by a vampire in Mississippi."

Once they got out, Eric said, "Please pack up a bag. We need to find you somewhere safe to stay. And you're not allowed to stay with the woman who found this place for you. I don't trust her."

Although Carly bristled that Eric thought he could allow or disallow anything in her life, she acquiesced, and thoroughly agreed with his judgment about Anna.

Capture

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