House of Cards

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize. They belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball.

Chapter 14: Remember Me

Eric climbs to his feet and helps me to mine. His body is already ejecting the bullets. I catch one as it falls out; it would be useful if someone could trace the weapon. Such evidence is viable in a court of law, unlike information garnered through telepathy, and if we can trace the weapon, then the weapon can be linked to the Fellowship. At least, that's the way I role. Vampires obviously think in a different way, because we make haste to evacuate the building and head for the Hotel Carmilla. Vampires don't want to deal with human authorities, period.

A few police cars pass us by as we drive to the hotel. The Fellowship has long since fled, which was smart of them. It wouldn't look good if they got caught pointing guns at a civilian house. Well, it's a civilian house as far as the human authorities are concerned. They don't know anything about the vampire hierarchy.

I don't see much of Eric after our arrival at the hotel. That's understandable. He's facing the equivalent of a suicidal parent and trying to talk him out of it. I wish I could help him, but what can I do? I've never met a suicidal person until Godric, and he's not just any suicidal guy. He's a two thousand year old immortal who wants to die.

"Why would you be so cruel to keep me here against my wishes, Eric?" I hear Godric say during one of the brief moments when they revert to English. They're certainly not keeping their discussion a secret. Both of them must know that I'm right next door. "There is nothing more for me here."

"This is madness, Godric! It's irrational!"

"The entire existence of vampires is irrational. By rights, we shouldn't exist."

"And yet we do!" Eric pauses. "Godric, do not do this. I beg of you. I…I need you." Eric must be very desperate if he is admitting that he needs anything. I'd wanted to interrupt, but it just seems wrong to. This is a private moment between Eric and his maker. I understand what he must be feeling. I would have done anything to make Gran stay with me for one more day. The thought of death isn't half as daunting as the thought of losing someone you love.

The two vampires revert back to some ancient language that's probably extinct these days. I might not understand the words, but I understand the emotion behind those words. Godric is determined to die, and no matter how much Eric wants to persuade him to decide otherwise, my Viking is powerless in this matter. His pleas fall on deaf ears. I get teary-eyed myself. It's like…I dunno, losing Gran all over again, in a way. Godric to Eric is obviously what Gran was to me, and since I love Eric…you get the gist. At least Gran didn't have a choice. She didn't want to leave me. Godric is choosing to die even though he knows that Eric loves and needs him.

It's four in the morning, and soon it will be dawn. Eric doesn't have long left to convince Godric. I don't have a choice. If I care about Eric, I'll have to put in my two cents.

I knock on the door between the rooms before opening it. "Godric?" I ask. "Can I speak with you in private?" I suppose I could have done it with Eric there as well, but I don't want to bruise his pride. I know how proud he is; he is unwilling to show weakness to anyone, not even me. Maybe especially not me.

Eric is reluctant to leave, but he trusts that I'm only trying to help, and he seems…well, exhausted. He's run out of things to say, apart from plead, and that's not working. His face is streaked with red, and it takes me a while to realize that he hasn't been injured; he's been crying.

"He really needs you, Godric," I say once Eric has left. Yeah, that's my best strategy; repeating what Eric has said in the hopes that it might make more of an impact. Because, let's face it, I'm human, and Godric has the greatest respect for humanity. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. And if a human thinks that he belongs here, then maybe he might change his mind. Hopefully. Maybe. Fingers crossed.

"No," says Godric. "You're the one he needs."

"Wait, what? No. He doesn't need me. I need him and he needs you. It's a big messy cycle, and without you, the rest of us are going to topple like dominos." Okay, I don't really know what I'm saying here. It made more sense in my head. "Please, Godric. The world needs people like you."

"Do you really think so?" he asks. He seems surprised.

"Of course!" I insist.

"But I do not belong here. My kind are…not right."

"Believe me, there is no cruelty that vampires are capable of that humans aren't. Violence is not exclusive to the race of vampires. There's too much bad in the world and we need people like you to make things right. You've got to be able to see that."

"You have a great deal of faith in me, Miss Stackhouse," says Godric. "Perhaps more than you should."

"I don't presume to know you at all, Godric, but I know Eric, and he loves you. Plus, he's got to have gotten his nobility from somewhere."

"Eric is inherently noble."

"Maybe, but you're up there with him. You didn't need to save me from Mono-brow —"

"Mono-brow?" Godric seems amused by my nickname for Gabe. Well, that's a start. I'm glad to have been entertaining.

"Gabe. You didn't need to save me from him, but you did."

"I killed a man in the process. Perhaps I should not have."

"Believe me, if you hadn't killed him, he'd have killed me."

"You do not understand. I have lived for two millennia and seen all the darkness in the world. It is enough for me."

"But how are things going to change for the better when people who want to see things change end up killing themselves because all the bad things have made them too depressed?"

"You do not pull punches, do you, Miss Stackhouse? You make me sound so selfish."

"Well, I do think you're a bit selfish to just leave all these problems for other people to figure out. Are you going to be angry with me now?"

"Anger is such a tiring emotion, and I do not think I have that sort of energy anymore. But yes, I concede that I am being a little selfish."

"So…?" Uh huh, I'm very eloquent.

"You believe I should stay and fight for what I believe in."

"I do."

"But vampires should not exist."

"Says who?"

"We are not natural."

"If God didn't mean for you to exist, wouldn't He have smote you down already? I mean, He's omnipotent and omnipresent, right?"

"And if there is no God?"

"Then evolution would have done away with you and you'd have gone the way of the Woolly Mammoth. Believe me, if you're here, then you're meant to be here, for whatever purpose."

"What if it does not work? What if goodness cannot triumph over evil?"

"Then there's probably still time to kill yourself afterwards."

Godric chuckled. "You have the answer to everything, don't you?" he asks.

"I think I'm just too young to realize that I don't know anything."

"Come on, girl! You gotta give the details! All of 'em! Tara Thornton ain't a believer of censorship for whatever the reason."

I would have thought that Tara ought to be the one to tell me what's going on. I mean, I found her in bed with Barisan as soon as I walked in the door of my apartment. Actually, they were on the sofa, but that's just beside the point. The point is that my best friend was sleeping with the best friend of the guy I'm sleeping with. And isn't Barisan supposed to be watching Hunter, not wooing Tara?

No, I'm not really buying his claim of being able to multi-task. That's just wrong, at any rate.

Tara and I are having our traditional Sunday breakfast in my living room. The low coffee table is covered with cups of Starbucks, bowls of Norma Jean's special French hot chocolate, plates of pastries as well as cute little jars of jam and a tiny little tub of soft butter. I know it's bad, but I love my croissants with butter. I dunk my croissant into my bowl of hot chocolate and take a bite. Heaven.

"Fine," I say. "But you've got to tell me everything first. What the fuck are you doing with Barisan?"

"Face it, Sook, he's hot," says Tara. "And he's funny and smart and he's got class. What's not to like?"

"You know he has thirty plus children all around the world, don't you?" I ask.

"He told me," says Tara. "And he also told me that he can't have a steady relationship, ever. It's forbidden by his order for some reason or another. Anyway, I'm not going to try and hold down a guy like him. That would be like trying to catch moonlight in a jar. I'm just happy to have him for however long I'll have him. Not all of us have a handsome Viking waiting, Sook."

"Eric is not waiting for me or for anyone," I say.

"I'd comment on that if I knew anything about what's going on between you two," says Tara. "Well, spill. I told you everything, or do you want to know the sordid details too? God knows I'm not shy enough to not share them."

I know I can trust Tara with anything. She's like a sister to me. We've known each other since grade school. I remember I was being picked on by one of the popular girls, and Tara stepped in, all guns blazing —we were six, but my friend knew a great deal of words that a girl of her age shouldn't have known— and got into a fight with the girl. Tara got detention for it, and since then, we were nigh inseparable.

I tell her about what happened at the Fellowship of the Sun church. I tell her about Fintan, about the friendship between the half-faerie prince, the Viking vampire, and the French-Greek-Middle-Eastern warlock. I tell her about the night Eric and I spent at the hotel and I tell her about Godric.

I'm actually surprised that my intervention worked. I mean, what I said sounded like something out of a self-help book. Perhaps a little bit of commercial psychotherapy was what Godric needed, although I would never have expected it. Vampires and psychotherapy don't seem to go together.

Except Pam, who swears by 'Dear Abby' and is a big fan of said commercial psychotherapy.

Maybe it's hereditary?

At any rate, Godric agrees to not meet the sun at present —I barely keep from jumping up and down and pumping my fist in the air because there are no words to describe how it feels to convince someone that there is something worth living for.

He and Eric decide that it's best if he comes back to New York with us since there is nothing left for him here in Texas. I don't really know the details of that arrangement, but that's because it's none of my business.

Tara listens, wide-eyed. She doesn't interrupt me even once, which is unlike her. Watching movies with her is like having the running commentary on.

"Shit, Sook," she says when I finish my convoluting narrative. "That's serious. I knew he liked you, but I didn't know he liked you that much. Jesus! He's a keeper, that one."

"We're not in a committed relationship, Tara," I say. "I mean, I don't intend to have multiple partners at a time, coz that's just not me, but I don't expect him to stick to me only either. He's got his reputation and his needs and I get that."

"So…you're…friends with benefits?"

"I guess."

"That's not like you, Sookie. You're all about commitment and romance. What happened to all that?"

"Life's too short to waste on fantasies. What if there is no Mr. Right? I…I guess I just didn't want to die a virgin. I'm fond of Eric, and there's no one else I'd rather have as my first."

"Can you see yourself being in love with him?"

"Yes…but I'm not."

"You like him, right?"

"Very much."

"And the sexual chemistry is obviously there, so in all essence, you're pretty much in love with him anyway."

"Even if I do fall in love with him, which I'm totally not going to, the sentiment will probably be one-sided. I'm not going to set myself up for that sort of heartbreak."

"Aw, I wouldn't say that. I mean, what guy would give his life for you if he didn't love you?"

"That's because he's a responsible and genuinely good person who really cares about me and loves me in his own way, but he's not in love with me. There's a difference."

"How do you know that? I thought you couldn't read his mind."

"I can't, but I know him well enough to know that he won't fall in love with anybody. That sort of attachment is just too irrational for him."

"Sweetie, have you even spoken to him since you got back?"

The truth is, I haven't. We've both just been so busy; me with board meetings and dealing with nervous shareholders, and him with vampire administration as well as bar stuff. I haven't even had time to turn on the TV or go on Facebook. If not for multiple newspaper articles in the business section, one might have thought I'd disappeared off the face of the earth. I haven't even managed to have lunch with Hunter and Remy, and after seeing his —rather nice— arse out of my apartment, I haven't seen Barisan either even though he's living in the same building as me right now.

Hale Industries isn't doing as well as it ought to. Granted, we are in a recession and everyone is suffering, but our shareholders are getting nervous anyway. I don't know much about economics, but I do know that if people start selling our shares in bulk, the company will crash. It's either that, or another company will snap it up and partition it or something, and our employees will be unemployed. I'm not opposed to the idea of a merger, but it will have to be one which benefits the employees the most. They can't afford to lose their jobs.

As for Eric, rumour has it that there's a new critter in town. I bumped into Alcide the other day when taking a wee break from CEO duties and perusing the bookshop, and he told me that a woman called Hallow Stonebrook was threatening all the supe-owned businesses in NYC for protection money. At first, I wondered what manner of idiot would dare to threaten Eric, but then Alcide clarified for me. Hallow Stonebrook was the leader of a coven of witches, and witches, apparently, could "make your life hell." His words, not mine.

"Then we're going tonight," says Tara.

"What?" I gape at her. She's already envisioning a huge wedding, for God's sake! And not her own, I might add. There are several things wrong with that picture. One, vampire-human marriages are not legal in anywhere except Vermont, and two, it's a daytime wedding that she's imagining.

"You heard me. The key to maintaining and developing a relationship is communication."

"You've been reading far too many self-help books!"

"Actually, I learnt that from watching Bridget Jones' Diary, but whatever. The only reason her relationship with Colin Firth deteriorated was because they didn't communicate properly, leading to misunderstandings."

"One, Tara, Bridget Jones and I don't have anything in common, apart from being blonde and single —and I happen to be brunette at the moment— and two, Eric and I are not in a relationship of any sort!"

"Keep telling yourself that, darling," says my friend. "Well, if you're not going to go and see Eric, at least come with me to see Pam. You've got no objection to her now, do you? Tonight's her night off; we could go shopping!"

Wait, what happened? I knew Pam and Tara got along, but all of a sudden, did they become best friends whilst I was off gallivanting with Eric? Tara the Stylist and Pam the Fashionista Vampire; they would make a force to be reckoned with. Fashion criminals had better watch out.

Sunday is Fangtasia's least busy night. The queue isn't very long, although there is still a queue. Pam is delighted to see us, or rather, me. "Good, you're here," she says without so much as a 'hello'. Vampire etiquette is quite different from human etiquette. "Perhaps you can talk some sense into him."

"What?" I say. Yeah, that's a really smart response, but what else am I supposed to do?

"Come in," says Pam as she practically pulls me through the club towards the back. "Godric and that goddamned warlock refuse to interfere, and he won't listen to Chow or me." I presume she's talking about Eric. I'm suddenly cautious. If both Godric and Barisan don't want to get involved, then perhaps I shouldn't get involved either. I mean, they've both known Eric for much longer than I have.

"Pam, what's going on?" I ask. I mean, she hasn't even ogled my breasts or my outfit. That's slightly worrying.

"Sookie, as part of the supernatural community, you should keep up with the news," says Pam. "There's a new gang in town."

"You mean the witches?" I ask.

"What witches?" asks Tara. "You mean there are such things as witches? Wait, don't answer that. I slept with a warlock."

"So you do know," says Pam. "Well, they've tried to get us to pay protection money. Fifty percent of profits from all of Eric's businesses."

"And what did Eric say?" I ask.

"To put it simply, he said no, but not so politely," says Pam. "However, they've come back with another proposal, and if Eric sleeps with the head witch for five nights a week, they'll cut it down to twenty five percent."

"And…?"

"I want you to get Eric to agree. He is not being cooperative."

"You want me to convince him to pimp himself out?" No way in the world was I doing that. One, Pam ought to know better, and two, there is no way I'm going to try and get the guy I'm sleeping with to sleep with other women. Turning a blind eye —as long as he's discreet— is one thing. Actively encouraging it is another thing entirely.

"Can't Barisan do something about those witches?" asks Tara. "I thought he was some sort of supernatural peacekeeper or somethin'."

"Until they threaten humans, not really," says Pam. "Warlocks can't interfere with any business. Besides, I don't think one warlock is enough to deal with those witches. They're powerful, and fuelled by vampire blood."

"Great," I mutter. How are we going to get out of this one? Wait…we? Well, I suppose Eric is my friend and fuck-buddy, so it is kinda my business too.

"So?"

"I don't think acquiescing is the way to go," I say.

"Hah, so there is something going on between you two! I knew it!"

"Wait...what? Where did that come from?"

"You're probably the reason he won't cooperate!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Pam. Eric doesn't have that sort of irrational attachment. You know that."

"A couple of months ago, that might be true, but now, I'm not so sure."

We're standing in front of Eric's closed office door. I can hear voices coming from within. A female voice, probably the junior witch that I'm detecting, and Eric's icy tones. Pam opens the door without knocking. I suppose that being Eric's child means that she can be as rude as he is.

I guess I don't look like I belong in Fangtasia. Again. Nothing new there, really. I guess I should take the stare as a compliment. It means I'm far too classy to be mistaken for a donor.

The witch is staring at me in surprise. I'm surprised by her appearance too. She looks so young, like she ought to be in college instead of threatening thousand year old vampires who can snap her neck with two fingers. Actually, I'm wondering why Eric hasn't done anything to her yet. I don't think it's his diplomatic nature. In her mind, I see a tall and imposing woman who probably could use a makeover, because she looks more like a football quarterback and her clothes looks like they're from the eighties, all shoulder pads and sequins and black.

"So?" she asks Eric.

"I have given your mistress my answer," says Eric. "And it's no. The day I fuck her is the day I cease to Eric Northman."

"You will regret it," says the young witch. "My mistress will make sure you will lose everything that you hold dear. You will have nothing left."

"Bring it on," snarls Eric.

The witch turns on her heel and pushes past Pam, bumping me with her shoulder as she strides out of the door.

"Milord," Chow begins. "I know you are not amenable to the idea, but perhaps you should—"

"Chow, I said no and I mean no and no matter how many times you ask me to reconsider my answer will still be no," says Eric.

"I mean no offence, milord, but I am worried—"

"You are worried that the witches will take over my principality and you will lose your job, or perhaps your life."

"I am only thinking of your position, milord," says Chow. "I have very little to lose. With no power, no one will target me, but you are vulnerable." He does his three steps backwards and then leaves to return to the bar.

"See?" Pam hisses into my ear. "Talk to him, and get him to drink something other than that bottled piss. It's messing with his mind and I'm convinced they put preservatives in it, no matter what they say." Her stiletto heels click on the vinyl floor as she stalks out of Eric's office.

Tara turns to leave as well, but I grab onto her arm. No way is she leaving me in this awkward situation all alone. "Nuh uh, Sook," she whispers. "I'm not getting' involved. This is way over my head." Then she leaves me too. Some friend.

Eric regards me from beneath heavy brows. He is not smiling, not that he has a lot to smile about at the moment. "I'm surprised that you're here," he says. Not discussing the witches? I suppose I don't know anything about witches, but still. That's gotta be at the forefront of his thoughts at the moment.

"I'm surprised too," I say. "If Tara hadn't dragged me down here, believe me, I'd be at home."

"You didn't want to come?" he asks. He sounds...disappointed?

"No…yes…I...Eric, look," I begin. "I've just been really busy, what with all the shareholders getting jittery …you know how it is, and I—"

I never get to finish my pathetic excuse, because at that moment, the lights go out for me.

She just drops for no reason whatsoever. If he didn't catch her, she'd have hit her head on the floor and it wouldn't have been pretty. That floor's pretty hard. "Sookie!" he says, shaking her, hoping to wake her up. What is wrong with her? She's breathing, and her pulse seems normal. She doesn't smell as if there's anything wrong with her either.

Her eyes open, and he is relieved, although not for long. "What the fuck, Eric?" she snaps, startling him completely. What did he do? She pushes herself out of his arms. "What do you think you're doing? I told you. I'm Bill's!"

This is Loki's doing. It has to be.

I have no idea why I'm in Eric Northman's office, and why I'm wearing this tiny dress that's almost obscene. I mean, it looks like it's made out of bandages. And the shoes. Oh God, the shoes! I can't even walk in them. When I push Eric away, I topple over again and fall against the sofa in his office. "Is this your idea of a joke? Because, believe me, it's not funny."

"It's not a joke, Sookie," he says. "You came to me."

"As if," I say. I kick off the shoes, and for the first time, I notice the red soles. I don't remember a lot about clothes, but don't the red soles mean that these are the expensive shoes designed by that French guy? Pam must be in on this. I'm a barista working at Merlotte's. I can't afford designer clothes.

Eric curses under his breath and takes out his phone to make a call. Moments later, Pam zooms in, with Tara hot on her heels. Tara. What's Tara doing here?

"Sook?" says Tara. "What's wrong?" She sees the shoes on the floor. 'Mistreating Louboutins?' she thinks. 'Something's really fucked up.'

"I'm here, that's what's wrong," I say.

"Where else are you supposed to be?"

"Anywhere else but here. Where's Bill?"

"Bill who?" Tara gives me a blank look.

"Bill Compton, the guy I've been dating for the past two months." I put my hands on my hips and notice the gold watch on my wrist. It looks expensive. Where did I get it?

"Uh…no he's not," says Tara. "You haven't been 'dating' anyone in the past two months, and you've never dated Bill Compton."

"I'm pretty sure I know who I slept with, Tara." A lady usually doesn't kiss and tell, but this is an extraordinary time. They're all looking at me as if I'm crazy; as if I don't know who I am, which I totally do.

"I'm…pretty sure you don't."

I glance around for confirmation. Eric is being awfully quiet, and he's on the phone again, this time talking in something that sounds like French. Then again, it could be Greek.

"Sookie, Compton kidnapped you," says Tara gently.

"No, he didn't," I say.

"Yes, he did. It was on national news and America's Most Wanted. I can show you if you want."

Now I'm completely confused. How come I don't remember any of it? Tara asks to borrow Eric's computer. I'm surprised that they even know each other. She taps furiously on the keys and comes up with the video on YouTube. I see Jason in a tux, Tara in some outrageous top and beautiful skinny jeans with high heels that look more like stilts.

And then there's a picture of Bill in the corner of a screen. He's with me and I'm in some ruffled confection of a dress.

All of a sudden, it falls into place. I turn around to glare at Eric.

"You!" I scream. "You set it all up so that Bill would look guilty!"

Eric looks like I just slapped him. Just then, a man appears in the doorway of Eric's office, and if I weren't so mad, I'd have noticed how good-looking the guy is.

"Thank Odin and Thor and all the gods above!" says Eric. "What took you so long, you dastardly Frenchman?"

"There was a late night seminar on Crusader culture at the Met," says the newcomer. "And I'm half Greek."

"What do you remember about yourself, Sookie?" Barisan asks gently.

"I'm a barista at Merlotte's, my grandmother died of a brain tumour a while ago, and my only remaining family is my brother," says Sookie.

"Where do you live?" asks Barisan.

"In Queens," says the girl.

Barisan gives Eric a nod. The Viking quickly takes note of the address that Sookie gives to the warlock and then he sends Chow there to investigate. A few moments later, Chow texts back that there is indeed an empty flat there, but he can't see inside because the curtains are drawn, but he can smell the scent of the were-bitch who tried to extort money out of him, even if the scent is old. Eric punches his thigh, feeling very helpless.

"There's nothing I can do right now," Barisan tells him in French. "Her memory's been replaced the spell used is very complicated."

"Can't you reverse it?" Eric demands.

"If I try, I might damage her mind forever," says Barisan. "The mind is a very fragile thing."

"You're a warlock," says Eric.

"Yes, but I am not a neurosurgeon," says the man. "Nor am I a miracle worker. She doesn't even remember Hunter and Remy. It's going to be difficult not letting the entire world know that there's something wrong with her."

Oh, shit. With the paparazzi stalking her, it's going to be nigh impossible. Eric rubs his temples. For the first time in a thousand years, he thinks he has a headache coming on. He never thought he'd lose Sookie like this. And Finn entrusted her safety to him! He is doing such a great job. If it weren't for him, Sookie wouldn't be like this. Of course, the witches had a big part to play, and for that they will pay.

He'll do whatever it takes to help Sookie get herself back, short of acquiescing to the witches' requests. There is an emptiness inside him that he never knew he had. Wait…is he getting sentimental? That's just fucking brilliant. Too bad he can't get drunk anymore. Getting drunk might have helped him to clear his head. Ever since he met Sookie, he's been feeling…a little strange.

"Eric?" says another voice. A welcome one.

"Who's the cutie?" asks Tara.

"I do not believe I've ever been called cute before, madam," says Godric, "but I shall take it as a compliment. Eric, what is going on? I came down here as soon as I sensed something."

"Who are you?" asks Sookie. "Are you in on this too? This whole framing Bill for kidnapping thing?" Godric raises his eyebrow at Sookie. Every vampire knows about the 'Bill Compton Case'. Vampires are very much aware of current affairs, both in the supe world and in the human world. In this case, it's an incident that spans both worlds.

"I don't know, Godric," says Eric. It's one of the few times that he's admitted he's not certain about what's going on around him. Usually, he's completely in control, no matter what happens. However, now? He has no idea what to do, only that he must do something to remedy this.

"You sure know a helluva lot more than I do," says Tara. "Would anyone mind explaining this to me? Why does Sookie think she's a fucking barmaid who's developed Stockholm Syndrome?"

I think they're telling the truth. At least, about the kidnapping. Bill really did kidnap me, kill a doorman in the process, and then he took me to Louisiana to be Queen Sophie-Ann's pet. It was Eric who rescued me from a lifetime of servitude, along with the hot French guy. I mean, someone had to have kidnapped me in order for there to be a story about it, right? I'm unlikely to have faked my own kidnapping, and I don't remember being kidnapped. According to them, I'm just a bloodbag to Bill. It comes as a shock. I can't really accept it. I love Bill, and I thought he loved me too. Apparently not. And Eric? Rescuing me? Unlikely. Yet, someone had to have rescued me, and he's the only one who has that kind of power.

I find out that I'm actually a rich woman who owns a large company called Hale Industries, which Gran left to me. Jesus, Shepherd of Judea! They say that I'm under a spell, which is why I think I'm a barmaid when I'm actually a rich socialite. I have no clue. I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know who my friends are anymore, apart from Tara. I don't know what's the truth. What they tell me clashes completely with what I remember. Although, granted, my memory is faulty at the moment.

"So let's assume that you're telling me the truth about me," I say to them. I don't trust Eric. He's a slimy ruthless manipulative bastard…except maybe I'm wrong about him too and those witches have really done a number on my mind. I can't even trust myself anymore! God, I'm so confused! "What do we do next?"

"We find the location of those responsible and then we're going to fix it," says Eric. "I swear to you, Sookie. You will remember who you are."