Marnie didn't have a shovel, but she did own salad servers. I held a Maglite while Eric used her oversized fork to uproot the Beggarticks.

To this day, I don't know if the flowers were Marnie's way of binding the curse to Louisiana, or simply her way of marking the spot where she'd buried the talisman.

Because that's what we found in her yard.

Eric's hand cramped when he'd got a foot under the surface, so we switched off. I hacked at the dirt while he held the Maglite. After a few minutes, the sun started to rise in earnest, so he switched the flashlight off.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd stayed up for the sunrise. Godfrey, probably. Eric turned to watch and I didn't grudge him the moment.

After a minute, he grabbed the salad spoon and helped me dig.

The sun was past the horizon when my fork scraped something hard. I scraped again. Dirt flaked away, revealing cloth.

Eric dropped to his knees and put his hands in the mud. I let him take the lead. Huge as this could be for me, it was even more important to him. His anticipation, and a healthy amount of fear, pressed on my shields.

Eric drew a lump of muddy canvas from the earth. He unwrapped the top layer, revealing a what seemed to be an old window curtain. Written on it, in a dried brown substance that could only be blood, were three sets of initials. M.S., M.S., and A.L.

The M.S.'s were undoubtedly the Stonebrooks. I'd bet Irma's sister's initials had been A.L.

If I hadn't been sure before, I was now.

Under the cloth was a lacquered container – the Valentine's chocolates box I'd seen in Irma's mind.

What did you know? She'd pulled one over on me.

Eric made to open the box and hesitated. "It could be a trap," he said.

"Yes." But we'd come too far to backtrack. I took the box from him and cracked the lid, revealing something small and white. It couldn't be anything but a bone. A rib, maybe. I wasn't an expert and didn't care to be.

It couldn't be anything but the talisman.

"Thank god," I said.

If Octavia were to be believed, all we had to do was break it.

It was over. They were safe—Eric, Pam, all of them.

Relief washed over me.

I put the lid on the box and offered it to Eric. "You better keep it, don't you think?" If I were him, I'd want it close. When night fell, he could break the curse.

Eric looked from the box to me. I couldn't puzzle out his expression. It was like he was trying to memorize my features.

"What?" I said.

He set the box aside. In one motion, he wrapped his hands in my hair and kissed me. "You're so beautiful," he said, when we broke apart. "You don't even know it."

My heart was beating fast. My face prickled from his stubble. It felt different from the last time I'd kissed Eric, in Jackson. The way he looked at me felt different.

It felt good.

So I kissed him back.


We stumbled to the trailer. I couldn't disentangle myself from his lips long enough to open the door. I fumbled with the lock blind, one-handed. If I turned away for one second I could have made it work. But I didn't want to. I kept kissing him. I felt like a stupid teenager, and I didn't even care.

Eric scooped me in his arms like I weighed nothing, and shouldered the door open. He took a few lurching steps. The unsteadiness probably had to do with the fact that I was peeling off his shirt. Oh god, those abs. I let my hand rest on his stomach.

I wanted him so much he made me shiver. I knew we shouldn't be doing this here, in Marnie's home, but I shoved the thought aside. I wanted to live in this relief. It was over. We were going to be all right. We'd make it out alive.

We flopped onto the couch. The bedroom was a trailer away, and too far. Eric tried to take off my shirt while I worked on his belt. Our arms kept bumping each other.

"One at a time," he said.

I put my hands over my head. He pulled off my top, looked me up, then down. It made me feel beautiful. "I've missed these," he said, to my breasts. I had to laugh. How could he miss them? He'd hardly met them in the first place.

Eric slid his hands around me. He pulled me onto his lap. Drew a ragged breath. I could feel him, through his jeans. He was ready. So was I.

I fumbled with his belt, fly—worried the jeans over his hips. He kicked them off. I've never been so glad to see someone go commando.

He ran his hand up my bare leg, under my skirt, and stroked me through my panties. When I made an encouraging noise, he slipped a finger into me. One, then two. I wrapped my hand around his length. He groaned, and dropped his head onto my shoulder.

His breath was hot against my skin.

He was breathing.

He was warm.

The world rushed back. "You have a condom?"

Eric stopped moving his fingers. "Is this a bad time?" It took me a second to realize what he was talking about.

He hadn't had to think about birth control for 1000 years.

The timing wasn't terrible, but "I'm not having sex without a condom." Imagine if I got pregnant. That would be—well, not good, to put it mildly. Disastrous to be frank. It wasn't a risk I'd take. No matter how much I wanted him.

Eric kissed my jaw. "I'll pull out."

Too risky. "No."

He'd had six children with his wife. I caught it from his thoughts.

I stilled. I'd never imagined him as a husband. Let alone a father.

"Would it be so terrible?" he murmured, between kisses.

Lust had made him stupid. We'd found the talisman. He was hours from turning back. I felt a chill.

"You're not thinking," I said.

Neither of us were.

Eric looked at me. He knew what I meant. But he said, "Not yet."

I let him lean me back against the sofa. He kissed his way down my stomach and slid me out of my skirt. He tucked a finger under the band of my panties and peeled them off. I shivered as he kissed the crook of my hip, the inside of my thigh. He looked at me for permission.

I nodded, and he proved again why I consider him a world-class kisser. Afterward, I helped him to his own good moment.

When we finished, we lay on the sofa. His legs dangled off the edge. I couldn't believe that the bed had been so close and we hadn't made it.

"I still want you," he said, with admiration and a little extra.

I wanted him too.


I woke up first.

Sunlight cut the blinds, striping Eric's face. His breath was even, slow.

In sleep, he looked untroubled, almost like a different person. He could be a friend of Sam's or my brother's. We'd met at Merlotte's. We'd met at the library.

I ran my hand down his back. He put an arm around me. Reflex, I think.

I relaxed into him. He felt warm and solid. I knew I had to think about what we'd done. But I didn't want to spoil this feeling.


The second time I woke up, I was alone.

Panic rushed through me, recrimination close behind.

I sat up, scanning for my clothes. My eyes landed on Eric's shoes, in the middle of the carpet, right where he'd kicked them off.

He hadn't gone far.

I let out a long breath. Relief.

I knew I should regret what we'd done. But the glow of the moment hadn't worn off. He'd called me beautiful, and more. I'd felt shy telling him how much I appreciated his body.

"You're gorgeous," I'd said, after about his tenth compliment.

"Which parts?"

Everything about him was heart stopping, but I appreciated the rear view in particular. I squeezed his butt.

"Not this?" he'd pressed, pressing himself against me.

I had to smile. I'd taken him in my hand. He was larger than I'd imagined, and that was saying something. "The only thing bigger than this is your ego."

He laughed.

"But, yes," I'd said, "this too." After all, he'd promised honesty. The least I could do was return the favor.

I found him on the stoop, cell to his ear, broad shoulders hunched. I could see the lines of his back through that Cowboy's t-shirt. He ran his bare toes in the grass.

I let the screen door slam. He glanced over his shoulder. His eyes lingered on me.

"See you tonight," he said, and hung up.

"The Queen?"

"Message for Bill." There was an edge in his voice, as if the mention of my ex would somehow spoil our moment.

I wanted to dispel those fears. "Scooch." I sat beside him. Tucked my hand into the band of his jeans.

He relaxed.

"We have all day, don't we?" I asked. We couldn't break the talisman until night, unless the ex-vamps wanted to end up as cinders. I wasn't in any hurry to head back to Andre. I knew Eric felt the same.

"They'll expect us after sundown."

That left the day to spend as we wanted. And I didn't want to spend it with the specter of Bill. Or Sophie-Anne. Or any of the problems we couldn't avoid once night fell.

I knew I had to think about Eric. About us. But that could wait till sundown too. I'd earned a breath.

"Have you ever had coffee?" I asked.

He hadn't, but he wasn't interested.

I was halfway through making a pot when the shower turned on. He left the bathroom door ajar. The shower was barely big enough for him, let alone both of us, but we are nothing if not creative problem solvers.

Afterwards, we squeezed into the bed. I'd never gotten to appreciate him up close, in full light. His body was crisscrossed by scars – souvenirs of a human life spent fighting. I traced them.

He took my hand, and moved it to a scar on his torso. It looked like a backward C.

"This one's lucky," he said. "An inch to the left, and I'd be dead."

Dead, a thousand years ago.

I shivered.


We stopped for gas on our way out of Memphis.

I wandered through the convenience store while Eric filled up. I thought about getting a soda, but my feet led me to personal care.

I sidled up to Eric as he topped off the tank, angling my shopping bag so he could see what I'd bought.

"How much did you spend?" he asked.

That wasn't the response I expected or, honestly, hoped for. "Three ninety-nine."

He reached into his pocket, and flashed a foil pack. "Twenty-five cents," he said, sure in his victory. "There's a machine in the men's room."

I laughed. It was like a sexy gift of the magi.

We took every wrong turn we could find, chasing dirt roads and overgrown fields.

We parked at the end of what could barely be called a trail. Just cicadas, kudzu and us.

We were playing hooky. And if any part of me felt guilty, I told myself we'd earned our time out of time.


Eric lay on my chest in the afternoon sun.

I liked daytime sex. I tucked that away to think about later.

"If I didn't turn back—" he said.

I sat up.

If he didn't turn back, he'd be killed.

"If didn't have to turn back—" Eric corrected, but even that wasn't right. "If I didn't know any more than this," he finally said, "I'd be happy."

I didn't know if that were true, but I could tell he wanted it to be.

I drew him back to my chest. His skin was rough and warm. I wondered how different he would feel tomorrow.

"You're quiet," he said, suddenly unsure.

"If it were just this," I said, "I'd be happy too."