Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize.

Chapter 25: High Treason

Last night had been a bit of a disaster, although Eric had managed to salvage something out of it. Things were definitely not going to plan; the last thing he'd expected was to find out that Bill Compton was a guest in Russell Edgington's house. That moment was almost cringe-worthy, come to think of it, although Eric Northman never cringed. He'd been trying to tell Russell Edgington and his Greek consort that Bill Compton had been working with the Fellowship of the Sun and selling V because he loathed his vampire state, and then Bill himself had walked in. It had turned out that Compton had known all along who was behind the sale of V. Perhaps it had been a good thing, then, that he'd been dragged off by Russell Edgington's wolves.

The most important thing was that he was now in the enemy's lair, and was working his way towards gaining the enemy's trust. He'd just about begged Russell Edgington to help him rescue Pam, feigning ignorance when Russell had told him about Sophie Ann's raid on Fangtasia after he'd left. Edgington was getting rather interested in the mutants too, which was not such a good thing, but he could hardly poach them, at least not whilst they were based primarily in Sibylla's territory. He'd rather let Sibylla have those mutants than Edgington.

The mansion was half empty tonight. Edgington had said that he had business to attend to. Eric hadn't asked about it. It would not do to seem too interested in the king's affairs yet. He had to bide his time, get close to him, and then he could avenge what was done to his family a thousand years before. After that, who knew? It was a crime punishable by final death to kill a king, but it was for this very purpose that he had lived for so long, relentlessly searching for the one responsible for the murders. Even if he did meet the final death for killing Edgington, he would have no regret. Of course, he would prefer it if he could live on.

Sookie was more than impatient to find out more about this Russell Edgington. However, a search on the internet turned up very little, and he wasn't listed in the phone book. The telepath ran a hand through her tousled hair. How were they supposed to find a vampire who didn't want to be found? The only thing they knew about him was that he owned a club, hired a lot of werewolves and gave them his blood.

"It's too bad I didn't catch his scent," said Logan. "I could have followed him."

"Jackson's a big city," said Alcide. "It would be pretty difficult to find someone based on scent." He'd recovered somewhat from the disastrous evening at Josephine's, even though he still looked a bit haggard and haunted. Apparently, the collective energy of all those werewolves shifting almost made him shift too.

"Yeah, well, at least it would have been something," said Logan darkly.

"Well, there is someone we can call who will definitely know something," said Van Helsing.

"Who?" demanded Sookie. Why hadn't he mentioned it earlier?

"Sybille Royale, Queen of New York," said Van Helsing. "The Sicilian vampires recommended her as an advisor." New York again? She really did seem to be all over everything. What made this queen in particular so powerful and influential? It couldn't just be her money.

"You work with vampires?" asked Logan.

"Occasionally we help one another," said Van Helsing. "When there is a mutual advantage, for instance. American vampires generally don't appreciate the interference of European vampires, and whilst most European vampires aren't interested in events in the New World, they do occasionally have a personal stake in the affairs of American vampires. After all, some of their siblings or progeny have crossed the Atlantic. They're a nepotistic bunch, those European vamps."

"So...they think that they're helping a member of their clique by telling you about these werewolves in Mississippi?" said Alcide.

"That's what I suspect," said Van Helsing. "But that's none of my business, really. I'm only interested in stopping this Russell Edgington and whatever he's doing with those werewolves of his."

"Well, call her now," said Logan. "The sooner we figure this out, the sooner we can get Compton and the sooner we can all go home."

The call to New York was brief and precise. It took all of three minutes. Russell Edgington was the King of Mississippi. He was dangerous. And he lived on the outskirts of Jackson. Van Helsing thanked her, not as a queen, but as an equal, and then ended the call. Sookie was beginning to get really suspicious of this man, not because she believed he would hurt them, but because, despite appearances, he just didn't seem natural. In fact, sometimes, she got a feeling that he was more supernatural than most supes. For one, she just couldn't detect his mental signature. There wasn't even a void. And then there was the fact that he knew so much about supes.

"Well?" said Logan. "So what do we do?"

"I'll scope out the place tomorrow morning. It's best to know the battlefield before you do anything," said Van Helsing

"So you're convinced that there will be a fight," said Alcide, who didn't look as if he liked that notion.

"There's always going to be violence, if my experience has told me anything," said Van Helsing. "Maybe I just have bad luck." He glanced at his watch. His very expensive-looking vintage Rolex. "It's getting late," he said, and then he turned his full attention to Logan. "There's someone I need to meet, and I think you should come with me."

"Why?" asked the Wolverine suspiciously.

"You'll know when you meet him," said Van Helsing. "That's what he said, at any rate. He is an old friend of yours, I believe."

Logan narrowed his eyes at his doppelganger. Did he trust the man? There was something odd about him, but they already knew that. If there was danger, then he didn't sense it, but even his instincts had been wrong sometimes. "Who is he?" he asked.

"An old friend who knows you better than you know you," said Van Helsing. The hell? The Wolverine glanced at the others. They knew that he had amnesia, and they knew that he wanted to find out about himself, but did he really want to leave the others behind so he could meet with whoever this was?

"Logan, if he knows about you, then you should go and see him," said Marie. "We'll be fine on our own for a couple of hours."

"You sure?" said Logan. He wasn't so sure.

"I'll keep an eye on things until you get back," said Alcide. "You go on."

Seeing as he had little reason not to go —and every reason to go— Logan decided to chance it. After all, what could happen in a couple of hours?

As it turned out, a lot.

Russell Edgington planned to take over Louisiana through marrying Sophie Ann. He was going to use the information about V sales as leverage against the incompetent queen. Eric wasn't feeling particularly sympathetic towards Sophie Ann at the moment. That V that the Magister had found in Fangtasia had definitely not been part of his stock. Someone had framed him, and he knew just who. Betrayal did not inspire loyalty at all.

He followed the royal consort, Talbot, as the younger vampire led him on a tour through the mansion. Russell Edgington's residence wasn't as magnificent as Sophie-Ann's, but his collections of artefacts defied belief. His house was better stocked than the museums in New York. Medieval tapestries and stained glass windows were displayed everywhere. The glass panels were stained with a blue that could not be replicated anymore, for its secret was lost. Well, not entirely lost. There were a few vampires who probably knew how to make it. There was a suit of armour from China's Warring Period, a robe worn by the druids of Ancient Britain before the Romans invaded, and...

Everything else faded. The crown. He only saw the crown. The woven golden pattern, the sigils, the runes, the insignia; it was as familiar to him as the lines on his own palm. It sat on a display stand amongst thirty other crowns, but the other ones, although they were more opulent and bejewelled, did not matter to him. Not one bit.

He opened the door of the display cabinet, unaware that Edgington's consort had stopped talking and was watching him. This was the crown his father had worn, and his father before him. It had been supposed to come to Eric after Ulfric died, but instead, it had been snatched from the king's head by the jaws of a wolf. The hatred, which had awoken as soon as he'd seen the mark and found out about the vampire who controlled them, flared, and it took him all his willpower to not show it on his face. His father had always called him rash. Years of being a vampire had tempered him somewhat, but the old Eric was still there, quick to anger, and slow to forgive.

"It's quite beautiful, isn't it?" asked Talbot.

"Indeed," whispered Eric as he took the crown in his hands. He knew every bit of it, down to the very last rune. This should have been his, and his son's after him, and so on, until the end of his line. He really had to struggle to control himself when he thought about his son, his firstborn, the cheerful ten year old child with wheaten hair and blue eyes whose throat had been ripped out by the fangs of a wolf.

He remembered cradling his child's cooling body in his arms, his hands covered in blood, staring into those glassy dead eyes, and vowing that he would have revenge and justice, even if it meant giving up his own life. Feelings that he'd thought had died long ago came back to life again. He swallowed, remembering what his maker had always told him. He needed to be calm. He thought about how satisfied he would be after avenging his family. He thought about the advantage that he had, with a nephilim on his side. He thought about how he would avenge his family.

Yes, that was a huge question. How was he going to harm a vampire, who was not only three times his age, but also had an army of V-addicted werewolves and only Thor knew how much money, not to mention a huge following of vampires.

Mississippi was not the richest kingdom, but Russell Edgington was a powerful king. Not only was he the oldest vampire in North America, rumour had it that he'd once been a high priest, or even a druid, with intimate knowledge of the old magics. That made Edgington extremely dangerous indeed.

Drained by tonight's activities and revelations, Marie headed off to bed after Logan left with Van Helsing. She felt safe in the apartment. Really, what could happen? No one except the other mutants, as well as Eric and Pam, knew that they were in Jackson, and the latter had no reason to reveal their location to anyone. Vampires might not be entirely trustworthy —they had a very warped idea of morality, if they had any idea of morality at all— but they were very pragmatic most of the time.

The pillows were plump and the cotton sheets were crisp and cool, which felt great against her skin. She felt a little bit guilty about taking up the only other bedroom in the apartment —Sookie had one and she had one— but Alcide had insisted. It wasn't right for a lady to be sleeping on a couch or on a blow up mattress, he'd said. She really had to send him a nice thank you card and gift when she went back to Bon Temps.

Last night, she'd been plagued by vivid dreams; dreams that made her blush violently to remember them. Eric had warned her about them, but she hadn't imagined that they would be so...intense, not to mention graphic.

She shivered as she remembered Dream-Eric's hands on places where they definitely should not be. Her reaction had been...equally embarrassing, now that she thought about it. But she'd liked it at the time, and he'd been so sweet in her dreams, although, well, she had seen Fangtasia's security tapes and she knew what sort of man —err, vampire— her boss was. He'd been through just about every dancer in the club, not to mention the best looking patrons, and then some. She hadn't been able to look one of the dancers, Yvetta, in the eye for two weeks after she'd glimpsed footage of her in Eric's office, christening the desk. She wouldn't touch that desk without disinfecting it first. Vampires might not carry too many germs, but human strippers were an entirely different matter. Besides, watching one's boss have sex was...disturbing. She was only a minor, after all.

Her eyes grew heavy and her thoughts wandered, back to that spine-tingling kiss that had set her on fire. No. She really shouldn't be thinking about her boss. There were more important matters at hand, like how to tell Remy that she'd cheated on him. Was there a nice way to do it? She needed relationship advice, and it seemed that no one could give it to her. With these thoughts on her mind, she drifted off into sleep.

He was there, lying next to her. She felt his cool skin against hers, his fingers tracing patterns on her arm in the most creative ways, making her shiver. He was touching her, he was kissing her, and he definitely wasn't having a seizure or falling into a coma. "You know this isn't right," she said as they broke off the kiss. Truth be told, she hadn't wanted to break it off, for it was the sweetest and most tender kiss, sending liquid fire down to the soles of her feet and the tips of her fingers. And the feeling, the sensations, the intimacy. It was good to be able to touch someone and not kill them.

"Isn't it?" said Eric with a devilish grin. His hand did not stop moving. He was now drawing something on her bare back lazily. "It feels right."

"That doesn't make it right," she said. "I have a boyfriend, and he's a good guy."

"You're trying to convince yourself, little Marie," he said in that deliciously seductive and husky voice of his, whilst seriously distracting her with what magic his hands were working on her body, making her feel sensations in parts of herself that she hadn't even known she had until now. His unblinking blue eyes bored into hers. She could stare at them forever. "You and I both know he's not right for you. You just won't admit it."

"I'm dispensable to you," she said. "Just one of billions of others."

"You overestimate me," said Eric with a laugh, not the least bit put off. Well, this was a dream. Nothing had to make sense. "I think they only number in the thousands."

"Still, I'm not going to become a statistic," said Marie, all the while succumbing to his touch. She pressed herself closer to him. Actual skin contact. No sheer silk, no nothing. Just her skin and his skin, and his fangs. She brushed her fingers against the pointed tips. "You ever go to the dentist?" she asked. Now, why would she ask that? Ah, well. This was her dream. She could ask whatever the hell she liked. Maybe she could ask about the clothes he wore during the various historical eras as well. She imagined that he would look good in chainmail. She did like a man in chainmail.

"You say the most confounding things, my little mutant," he said as he pulled her closer to him. She heard voices outside. It was easy to ignore them at first, but they grew louder. Someone was shouting. She heard Sookie shouting Bill's name, and then Bill's voice. What were Bill and Sookie doing here? This was her dream, not Sookie's, and as far as she knew, Sookie couldn't project thoughts yet. It might not be real, but she was not ready to have a foursome, not even a dream-foursome. Wait, they sounded rather desperate, and frightened...

Marie opened her eyes. She had not been dreaming about Sookie and Bill's voices. That sweet Eric, unfortunately, had been a figment of her imagination. Ignoring the fact that she was rather hot and bothered, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was only three in the morning; she'd been asleep for less than two hours. The girl padded to the door of the room, pausing only to put on her satin gloves. It had become a habit. She opened the door just a little, enough to see Sookie clinging to Bill for all she was worth one moment, and then slapping him the next.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, Bill Compton," said the telepath.

"And I will explain if I ever get the chance," said the vampire, "but now is not the time. You have to leave, now, or it will be too late."

"Not until you tell me why," said Sookie stubbornly.

"There is no time!" said Bill. He was pleading with her. "Please, Sookie, trust me."

"You haven't exactly given me a very good reason to, Bill," said Sookie. "Why were you keeping a file on—" She didn't get to finish the sentence. Someone kicked down the door, splintering the doorframe.

"Come on in!" the intruder shouted before anyone had the chance to react. Immediately, two vampires and three leather clad thugs sprang into action. The two vampires grabbed Bill and pinned him against the wall. He struggled, but to no avail. They were too strong for him. Alcide was grappling with one of the thugs —probably a werewolf hyped up on V— and losing. The other two were going for Sookie.

Marie pulled off her glove. She spent her entire existence being afraid of killing someone by accident, and she didn't like killing at all, but when it came down to protecting her family, she would do anything. She leapt for one of the werewolves, glad that Logan had pushed her and trained her until she passed Danger Room Training. The vampire blood she had ingested made her strong. The momentum of her leap knocked the biker over, and before he could recover and throw her off, which would be pretty easy, considering his size, she placed her bare hand on his throat and squeezed.

Energy flowed through her. She felt heat surrounding her body, and she wanted to kill, to taste salty blood, to howl at the moon. She wanted to feel the wind through her fur as she raced across the tundra, chasing caribou.

Someone grabbed her by the back of her shirt and lifted her up as if she weighed nothing more than a paper bag, pulling her off the werewolf, who was now having a seizure. Before she knew it, a manacle-like hand had wrapped itself around her other wrist, which still had its glove, and her arm was being twisted behind her back. She gave a cry of pain as she felt her tendons and ligaments being strained to their limit.

"Well, well, well," said an unfamiliar voice. She risked glancing back at her captor. He gave her a toothy smile in return. "Aren't you an exotic little something? I only came for Miss Stackhouse and her wayward beau, but you're too interesting to leave behind." Really, she should be flattered. She'd caught the attention of none other than the King of Mississippi himself.

"You're the king, aren't you?" she said, even though she knew who he was. She didn't know why she said that. Maybe it was the Logan part of her talking. That bit of her always had to have the last word. "I can see why the French guillotined their royalty."

A/N: Russell Edgington, in my story, will be a bit different from the Russell Edgington in the books and on the show. Since I'm throwing in this very powerful Queen of New York, it's only right that there are other powerful monarchs to balance her out. Russell Edgington, in my opinion, has the potential to rival Sybille Royale, both in terms of wealth and influence in the American vampire community. Internationally...well, I'm getting ahead of myself.