Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.

Thank you so much for your reviews! A huge thanks to Wandersfar for cleaning up this chapter as well. I'll be in Québec for awhile so I don't know how much I'll be able to upload or write. Have a good week!

Chapter 21

"You're scaring the customers." Bernard Stackhouse commented offhandedly.

It was Saturday night and Merlotte's was full of patrons; half of them were vampires, Eric's entourage he guessed. None of them appeared too friendly, though they did order TrueBloods every once in a while. He didn't think too much of it when Tim and Mr. Compton arrived. They were sort of living with him now, after all. He wasn't happy with the situation, but he owed Mr. Compton for explaining things to his supposed father. As for Tim, well, at least now he didn't have to worry about getting TrueBlood. Errand boy appeared to be the only thing he was good at.

"It's not my fault they can't handle," the blond monarch gestured to his body dramatically, "all of this." He winked at a table of college-age girls.

Bo could feel a migraine forming.

He couldn't be any more different from his father. Whereas Mr. Northman wore black jeans and a dark blue wife beater (sans Viking helmet, thankfully), Bernard was dressed in the restaurant's uniform, the white shirt stained with grease from helping out in the kitchen earlier. The vampire king of Louisiana braided his hair into an intricate design which, compared to Bo's sloppy hairdo, exaggerated their differences even further. Rest didn't come easy to the teen that night and it showed. Life just wasn't going his way lately.

Nor was the air conditioning, which apparently thought this night would be the best to stop working. Summer had yet to end in Bon Temps. Sweat clung to Bo's hands and face, making him look like he just ran a marathon. Hell, he felt like he just ran a marathon.

Bo rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Are you trying to make me lose my job, Mr. Northman?"

"Mr. Northman is too formal. Call me father."

"Yeah. Thanks. No." Bo said quickly. "How 'bout we simply stick to Eric for now. Does that work for you?"

The undead king looked displeased, but didn't press the matter. "Okay, my son."

"If you two are done flirting, I'd like to order." The Chanel queen in all her glory interrupted, irritation exuding from her pores. "Two TrueBloods, boy. O negative, no straws."

"Of course." He used that time to escape posthaste. Anything to have a breather.

It didn't matter where he moved; they could see everything from their seat in the middle of the room. The layout of undead and living were separated by an invisible line, the frightened humans close to the door, and Eric's entourage near the kitchen. Mr. Compton and Tim were perched in stools by the bar. The undead computer expert raised his hand, motioning Bo to come. Sighing, he dragged himself over.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. I've been working since noon and it's now nine. I haven't had a break since dinner." The supernatural teen grumbled. "I need a drink. Can you order me some beer?"

"You're too young." Mr. Compton frowned.

Bo huffed. "Mom let me drink."

Mr. Compton stared at him blankly. He lifted one of his dark eyebrows. "Oh, really? I specifically remember her telling me how you were grounded for almost a year when you tried to sneak home a Budweiser in middle school."

"I really, really dislike you." It sucked when the only person to keep in contact with his mom after she left knew so much about him. He pulled his shirt out of his pants. "I'm going on break."

"Not for another ten minutes," Mr. Merlotte chided him from behind the bar. He brought out the TrueBloods from the microwave. "Tuck your shirt back in and give these to our customers." He stared the teen down. "And after this shift you and I are going to have a talk."

"You and everyone else." Bo muttered, taking the drinks. "Can you get Sheriff Andy to stop glaring at me? He's been doing that all night."

"No one can stop Andy when he's in one of those moods. Whatever you did certainly got him into a fuss." Merlotte observed. "When you are done serving drinks I want you to clean the bathrooms."

Bo nodded absentmindedly. "Sure thing, Mr. Merlotte."

He handed out the orders as fast as he could, nearly spilling one or two along the way. A lack of available waitresses made for a difficult night. Holly was out for dinner with her children, Melody was at the movies with her boyfriend, and Janice had the flu; the list went on and on. It wasn't something he couldn't handle, but when there were only three waitresses and a busboy to serve for a full house, things easily got out of control.

The bathroom smelled of urine and vomit. A gaggle of frat-boys back from summer vacation probably did the deed. Bo got out the mop and bucket from the closet then filled up the bucket with water and soap. Alas, his mop barely touched the floor before a familiar woman entered.

"You may be Eric's son, but don't think for a second I will let you get away with ruining my favorite outfit." Pam remarked disdainfully.

He laid the mop against the wall. "Oh Jesus, not you." Bo moaned. "Can't you get another one?"

"It was limited edition."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Bo's shoulders slumped. "I'm poor. I can't exactly pay for it."

She scanned him over with zero enthusiasm. "You're right, you can't. But, you can do something else."

Dread sunk into his skin, drenching it with foreboding suspicion. "And what is that?"

"Eric has been… depressed, so to speak. Sookie's disappearance was a major blow. Now knowing she was alive for all these years, and only recently died has made him much more vulnerable than usual. He wants something substantial, something he can relate to her with."

"And that's me."

"Who else? She made him happy. You can make him happy. It's that simple."

"I don't think it works like that."

"I beg to differ. He has already bought two plane tickets to Sweden for Christmas. He grinned like a fool when he told me." Pam remarked, heels clicking against the floor as she drew closer.

"Holy shit." Bo's mouth formed the shape of an 'O'. "Wait, he didn't even ask me if I wanted to go or not."

"Oh, you will be going, there is no argument there. In fact, everything he has planned from here on out you will be doing."

"What about my rights?" He crossed his arms, goosebumps prickling his skin. Eric might be his father, but to plan in advance without telling him? Bo wanted to take things slowly. Despite everything that happened over the past month, this new relationship was possibly the most confusing. He'd never had a father. As a kid, sure, he wanted one, what child didn't? Presently however, the notion carried too many complexities he wasn't certain of how to deal with. Besides, Sweden was cold as hell in the winter.

Pam's expression didn't change in response to his question.

She flicked a speck of lint off his shoulder. "Your head would look rather lovely on my mantle."

"Okay. Hang out with Eric. Got it." The muscles in his legs were beginning to go stiff from fear and anxiety. Thankfully, his facial control did not fail him. "Is there anything else you want me to do, to make us even?"

"Ah yes, I almost forgot." She examined her nails. "My pool boy met an unfortunate end several weeks ago. He used to mow my lawn as well. You wouldn't mind giving up your Friday nights to do his job, would you? I didn't think so."

"You're such a bitch."

She smiled, fangs out. "I know."

He finished cleaning the bathroom and retreated to the staff room, body stiff and full of thoughts. His phone buzzed. It was Rose. The lovesick teen answered immediately.

"Hey, hi, hello. Um, wow, sorry about last night." He stammered.

"There's been another spontaneous combustion."

"Where?" Bo asked, alarmed. "What do you know?"

"It was one of the du Rone boys. He wasn't much older than us. I think he was a grade above me at school. Jesus Christ."

Bo held his head. He had met Tara, the mother, at the funeral. The boy likely attended as well. "This doesn't make any sense. Why is the killer attacking all these people? What do they have in common?"

"Well, Peter worked part-time at a magic shop in New Orleans, under the supervision of a woman named Amelia Broadway."

The name rang a bell in his mind. It was the name Mr. Compton mentioned not too long ago. Someone in connection to his mom. "What about the other victims? Did they have any ties to her?"

"The first victim was a part of a coven near Sherveport. The one you found had a sister who was a Wiccan, but that's all I've found out about him. I don't know if he was a practitioner or not."

"Where did you find all this info?"

"Dad's a cop, remember? I go through his files all the time."

"Why would a witch kill other witches? I thought she, or he, was after me?"

"Maybe we should call this Broadway lady. She's the owner of the shop and could possibly know the others."

"Do you have her number?"

"No… I was hoping we could visit her store, together." She mumbled the last bit into the phone. Bo's face flushed.

"Together?"

"Yeah, my mom is taking me to New Orleans tomorrow. She has a few errands to run. I'm sure she won't mind taking another passenger."

"Doesn't she hate me?"

"Only dad hates you. He thinks you're some freak and a menace to society."

"Well, he wasn't too far from the truth on the first one."

"Bo, you're not a freak. Don't beat yourself up about what you are. Honestly, it's kind of cool."

"Being part dead is cool? I have a near unquenchable thirst and I get terrible sunburns. How is that cool?"

"You've got super-strength, and you can run really fast."

"I guess," Bo sighed. "It doesn't change the fact that there are a lot of things I can't do on both sides. I wish I could have been born into a normal family."

"Don't say that. You wouldn't be who you are right now. I like the way you are. It makes you unique."

Bo's lips gently lifted upwards. "Thanks. That's nice of you to say."

"I mean it."

There was a knock at the door. He could tell from the scent Mr. Compton and Sam were outside. Great. "I've gotta go. I'll talk with you soon. Bye."

Sure enough, the two men were waiting patiently by the door frame. Mr. Merlotte's wrinkles were more prominent than usual. Bill looked the same as ever. It was apparent both of them were on the same page regarding Bo's special condition, if the caution and uncertainty on Mr. Merlotte's face was anything to go by.

"Half-vampire?"

"Half-human." Bo corrected, looking at Mr. Compton. "So are you just going to start telling everyone now? Because I can easily put a target sign on my back and get the deed done far more quickly."

"Don't be cheeky. Sam is a trustworthy individual. It's not as though Eric hasn't done the same."

His shoulders slumped. "I thought we were trying to keep me from getting killed?"

"We've changed tactics. It is better to have every supe know you exist than simply a select few and those who wish to do you harm. Sookie had her enemies, but her allies outnumbered them. It is, at the moment, the best course of action."

"So, who knows?"

"Right now it is only a few trusted groups in the State of Louisiana, including your Uncle's pack."

"Uncle Jason is a supe?" Bo said in surprise.

"He was bitten by a werepanther several years ago." Mr. Merlotte supplied.

Bo closed his eyes, processing this new information. His smell was only slightly better than a human's. Of course he wouldn't have noticed. "How did he take it?"

"He suspected something was different about you. I'm sure you'll hear from him on Monday. He has been off fishing with his buddies for the weekend." Mr. Merlotte changed the subject. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"I didn't find out until a few weeks ago." Bo stepped back, pushing against the office chair. "I was also afraid you would fire me."

"I'm not gong to fire you, Bo. You're the most reliable busboy I have."

"I'm the only busboy you have." He said, a half-hearted grin emerging on his tired face. "And you're the best damn employer I've ever had, sir."

Mr. Merlotte smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. "If you need breaks to drink TrueBlood, tell me. I will not discriminate against my employees."

"Thank you, Mr. Merlotte. If you ever need anything, I'll be there. I promise."

"I wouldn't doubt it." The shifter's face became more serious. "Now, what's this about a murder?"

"A murder? Keeping secrets from me already?" The king of Louisiana walked into the room like he owned the place.

"Employees only." Mr. Merlotte said, his annoyance showing. "Can't you read?"

"I have the right to know everything that happens under my jurisdiction."

"Murders. It's plural." Bo mumbled. "Another person died today. Rose thinks a few other dead bodies might be linked in as well."

"A serial killer?" Mr. Compton said, contemplating the words. "Was it a vampire? A demon?"

"Everyone involved had something to do with magic." Bo sat down. "This is all happening so fast. I mean, witches? What is this, Harry Potter?"

"There are far scarier things than witches out there." Bill said ominously. The two other men in the room stared at him, their disapproval apparent. "What?"

Mr. Merlotte shook his head. "Don't go scaring the kid. Look, he's as pale as a—"

"Vampire?" Eric supplied, his eyebrows moving up and down comically.

Bernard slumped in his chair. This was a lot to take in. "People are getting killed because of me."

"Don't blame yourself, Bernard. No one had any idea this person would follow you all the way here to seek revenge." Mr. Compton remarked, his shoulders as heavy as the boy's. "I blame myself for not being there when I should have been."

"Bill. Please explain what all this has to do with my son." The king commanded, his expression somewhat heated. Being out of the loop was driving the vampire up the wall.

Mr. Compton explained in full detail, Bo joining the conversation several times to share the information he'd gathered. So far they knew a witch (or wizard, Bo wasn't entirely sure) was out to get him. A powerful one. Someone was supplying him or her with information. (Mr. Compton came up with that one. Cia's held no actual address and his contacts didn't know anything about it either.) In short, sooner or later someone was going to come for him, again. The shifter was a fluke; Bo had help. There would be another attack. It was only a matter of when and whether they could prevent it beforehand.

"It would be safer at my house. I don't want what happened to Sookie to happen to you." His father said after a second of deliberation post-convo. "I will take care of this."

"That's nice, Eric, but I'm not leaving my home. Mr. Compton and Tim can help me against any attacks. I'm not weak. I can fight." He wasn't Muhammad Ali by any stretch of the imagination, but he could still knock down grown men if he needed to. He fought like a New Yorker. There was nothing scarier than that.

"And what about in the daytime? What will you do then?"

"I'll fight." Bo stated, holding his ground against the man who helped give him life. "I have a shotgun."

The muscles in Eric's neck contracted. "Taking on witches isn't easy. You've never had any experience with them. We'll discuss it tomorrow, at my home."

"You can't just decide things for me like that. I'm an adult."

"No, you're seventeen. That gives me plenty of parental rights over you." The king stated. "We will discuss this later."

"I have the right to live in my own house. You're not my—" Bo shut his mouth, his cheeks burning.

Eric smirked. He waggled his eyebrows again. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Bo threw up his hands. Teenage hormones overruled his thoughts. "I'm going back to work!" He nearly slammed the door on his way out.

Mr. Compton rubbed his temples. In his mind, the boy was more than a piece of work; he was a catalyst of trouble. Sookie's stubborn streak and Eric's independence made for an irritating combination. He certainly had his life cut out for him. A thought arose. "Don't you have a coronation party tomorrow night? At your own house?"

Eric shrugged. "Shouldn't matter to you, Bill. You're not invited."

"So, you're putting the boy in a house full of vampires. I'm sure that will go well."

"I'm the king of Louisiana. I can handle it."

The owner of the establishment gave the two a deadpanned look. "Why are you two still here? Out. Both of you."

Mr. Merlotte and Bo had a beer after everyone left that night. They drank in sweet silence.