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Chapter 37: All the King's Men

A succubus? She wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but now wasn't the right time. Her priority was Eric and his missing memory. Marie wracked her mind for ideas as Chow pressed the gas pedal to the floor and practically flew his van to Bon Temps, whilst Pam and Theodora were both making phone calls to various people. Pam was speaking to Queen Sybille at the moment, ignoring Eric's desire to not bring her into it, and Theodora fired a line of Italian into her phone before ending that call and pressing yet another series of buttons. "Bloody time zones," she muttered.

In amidst this activity, Eric looked horribly lost, although he remained stoic and silent. The only sign of his inner confusion and fear was the fact that his jaw was clenched. Marie reached out and brushed his hand with her un-gloved fingers. He glanced at her, surprised at the contact, and possibly the emotion he felt through it. For a moment, she even imagined she detected a slight sense of familiarity. Was it possible that everything was still in his subconscious? After all, Logan dreamed about his past all the time.

Yes, Logan. That was who she should call. Even if he couldn't give any advice on regaining memories, it would be good to talk to someone supportive. It wouldn't hurt to have Oh, and the Professor, of course. No one knew more about amnesia than those two. Hallow and Yvetta were dangerous, and doubtless they could use some help at a time like this. Marie squeezed Eric's hand. He seemed to find some comfort in the contact, because he returned the gesture and then refused to let go of her, not that she wanted him to. Pam caught sight of them, and she raised an eyebrow.

In no time, they were outside the farmhouse. Marie invited them all in and went to the kitchen to heat up some blood —and to see if Sookie had any rum; Jack had been looking increasingly miserable in the past fifteen minutes. Unfortunately for the pirate-lawyer, Sookie wasn't much of a drinker, and she only had some gin for gin and tonics, as well as a couple of beers for Jason. Jack opted for the gin, even if he claimed it was a poor substitute for the sweet 'elixir of life' that was rum. By then, Theodora had set up a satellite dish —she didn't want to use the wireless broadband connection that Bill had installed and that Sookie still hadn't uninstalled because she didn't want anyone to tap the conversations that they were going to have— and was setting up the computers.

They were talking to two parties at once; Sybille in her office and Logan and the Professor in the Professor's office. Eric seemed startled to see people in the computer screens, and he peered behind the screens to see if they protruded from behind. He'd forgotten all about modern technology too.

They were arranging for Logan and the Professor to come down. The Professor, apparently, was more than capable of reading vampire minds and killing them with telepathy if necessary, and he felt that he might be able to help if he could delve into Eric's subconscious. Pam didn't look very sure about it, but Marie was able to convince her that the Professor merely meant to help.

Originally, Pam and Marie wanted to take Eric to New York to keep him safe, but both Eric and Sybille thought it was a bad idea. One, Eric didn't want to run away from a threat and from his responsibilities—it was good to know that amnesia couldn't change the core of his personality— and Sybille thought that would only tell everyone in the world that something was rotten in Louisiana, and thus attract a lot of unwanted attention from ambitious vampire monarchs who wanted to expand their territories.

"Eric, Hallow and Yvetta will come for you," said Pam.

"I am not afraid of them," said Eric. "They took something of mine, and I want it back."

"Besides, don't we need them to undo this spell?" asked Jack.

"Yes, but I don't see how that's related," said Pam. "We can still search for Yvetta and her bitch sister while Eric weathers out the storm in New York."

"That is not happening," said Eric.

"Aye," said Jack. "It's easier, innit, if we lure them out to a battlefield of our choosin', instead o' searchin' everywhere for 'em? Not that it would be too difficult, I mean, wiv me compass an' all, but we won't have the home turf advantage. Who doesn't want an advantage, eh?"

"Why do I get the feeling that we're only seeing a corner of the picture?" Marie murmured. All eyes turned to her in surprise. Being the youngest one there, no one had expected her to say anything on the matter. "I mean, why attack a vampire with such high profile? Isn't she scared of incurring the wrath of all vampires, or at least all vampires in Louisiana?"

"Vampires aren't known for being united, Miss D'Ancanto," said Sybille.

"But if this Hallow can threaten a vampire regent, then it means she's a threat to all vampires, and therefore, logically speaking, wouldn't vampires unite temporarily to rid themselves of this threat before going back to biting one another's throats out?"

"She's got a point," said Theodora. "I'd imagine that if the Fellowship of the Sun took out Felipe De Castro, all vampires would retaliate, even if no one likes De Castro."

"So you think there's someone behind this Hallow character," Sybille mused. "That's entirely possible. Vampires have been known to form alliances with other forces to fight other vampires. Present company is a prime example of this."

"Or maybe it's just a larger group of witches, or maybe even weres," added Theodora. "Marie's right. We have to know what this bigger plan is."

"Obviously the first step of it was to take me out," said Eric. He might have lost his memories, but he was still Eric. Well, maybe Eric Lite. "I do not think they will make any further moves without achieving that first."

"So if we make it seem as if the spell failed completely, that will lure the bitches out, as well as prevent the others behind them from doin' a thing, and then we can question them or dig through their heads to find out what's goin' on, and then we know everythin'," Logan finished.

"That sounds like a plan," said Pam. "But what if they get to Eric first?"

"That's where the succubus comes in," said Theodora.

"What succubus?" asked Logan, Sybille and the Professor at the same time. It was eerie, really, how they all thought the same thing. Marie slowly raised her hand.

"That's me, apparently," she said nervously. Many pairs of incredulous eyes turned to her, and she grew embarrassed. Really, she didn't even know what being an undeveloped succubus entailed. This was all too new to her.

"God definitely has a sense of humour," said the Queen of New York. She gave Marie a quick knowing smile. And then she winked in a mischievous manner. Obviously, she knew more about Marie, at least in this respect, than Marie did. "On a related note, I think you should know this. Do not trust the were-tiger. He is working for the King of Nevada."

"He was," said Pam. "Eric paid off his debts."

"Not all of them," said Sybille. "De Castro was careful to hide it, but my people are very good. If you don't believe me, ask him."

Sookie searched Quinn's face, hoping and praying that Jack's declaration wasn't true. "Are you?" she asked. "Are you a double agent?" In her turmoil and desperation, her shields wavered, and she heard him. Not clearly, as he was a were, but she could make out snatches of his thoughts. Mostly, they sounded something like 'shit'. Sookie felt like saying that out loud. This was twice in a row. Twice! Was she really that bad at choosing who to fall for? "So what is it then? Did someone want their own personal telepath? Let me guess, you were sent to 'procure' me?" It seemed that she wasn't as over Bill as she'd thought she was. The telepath was projecting her feelings about him onto Quinn, and she knew she was being a little unfair, but what the hell. She'd had enough of being double-crossed by men she'd trusted.

And speaking of double-crossing men...

There was a knock on the door, and she realized that she hadn't closed it. Standing in the doorway was Bill, luggage in hand and hair mussed from travel. Sookie's breath hitched in her throat. No, this couldn't be happening to her. Not right now. She felt a tingle in her fingers. The warm spread up and through her body, gathering behind her eyes. No, no, no. She had to get herself under control. The telepath swallowed and forced herself to detach from her emotions. "What are you doing here, Bill?"

"Queen Sybille requested that I return to Louisiana immediately," said the vampire, as humourless as ever. Sookie had no idea why she'd ever been attracted to him, apart from his silence. Had she really been that desperate? He caught her looking at him, and she quickly looked away before he could hold her gaze for too long. Something in his dark eyes had captivated her on that first night. "Sookie, I—"

"Stop acting like an infatuated tween and sit down, Compton," Pam snapped. "You can save your pathetic sappy explanations for later."

"I have not been invited into the house," said Bill, keeping his eyes focused on the telepath.

"Sookie, it's your call," said Pam. At least she had the sense to ask her. Maybe Pam wasn't so bad, after all. Male vampires, however...

"You can come in," said Sookie curtly. "But if you try anything, I'm sending you right back out." Bill inclined his head, accepting her conditions and the fact that he was still in the metaphorical doghouse and would probably never get out. She turned right back to Quinn. She could sense his panic. Well, of course he was panicking. He was trapped in a house full of hostile vampires and God knew what, and they'd just outed him as a double-agent. This was not Quinn's night.

His phone was confiscated, and he was more or less strip-searched by Pam and Theodora. They recovered a few Post-its with phone numbers written on them, a marked map, and a couple of disposable cell phones. The evidence was making him look increasingly worse. "Well, Tiger," said Theodora after they'd finished. Quinn was standing just in his boxers now. Purple boxers. They matched his eyes, Sookie supposed. It was not a good colour on him. "I believe in judging people fairly, no matter how much I dislike them personally. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"You don't understand," said Quinn.

"You're right, we don't," said Pam.

"I bet there's somethin' in it for you, eh?" said Jack, lifting his leg and then resting his ankle on his knee.

"There's nothing in it for me, Sparrow," growled Quinn. "Felipe De Castro has my family."

He told them of how his mother, another were-tiger, had gone on a rampage, and how the Nevada vampires had helped to clean up the scene and dispose of the evidence. In return, Quinn had to work for them for seven years. In effect, he was their serf, and they could make him do whatever they wanted. He'd been anything from an assassin to a gladiator.

"Eric bought your services," said Pam.

"He thought he did," said Quinn. "This is my fifth year, and De Castro agreed to release me from his service early if I did this for him."

"And what exactly is this?" asked Theodora.

"He wanted me to spy on Louisiana and report back to him. In particular, he was interested in the vampire-mutant alliance, and he was curious about Northman's telepath, but I swear, Sookie, I haven't said anything about you."

"And the vampire-mutant alliance?" said Marie.

"You and Howlett are the only mutants I know, and I don't even know what your mutations are," said Quinn. "I never meant to hurt either of you."

"But you were ready to harm my master, who paid to free you from De Castro," said Pam. Her voice was so hard and sharp it could have cut glass. If not for the fact that they needed to get information out of Quinn, she probably would have ripped him to shreds right there and then, champion of the arena or not.

"One slave master is not so different from another," said Quinn. "Vamps are vamps. You're all the same. It just happens so that one of them has my family, and if De Castro finds out what I've told you, he'll deliver their heads to me on silver platters." He looked so dejected that it was almost possible to feel sorry for him.

"Luckily for you, we're not a bunch of traitorous backstabbing bastards," said Theodora. "Besides, it wouldn't benefit us to hurt you." She held out Quinn's phone on the palm of her hand and offered it to him. He looked at her in confusion. "I want you to continue to feed De Castro bullshit," she said. "If you want your family to get out alive, you will do as I say. Felipe De Castro is not the only one who can harm them."

"I don't see how you can get them out of his grasp," said Quinn, snatching the phone off her palm.

"I have connections," said Theodora. "What, you think I'm only good for watching telepaths, drinking martinis and wearing sparkly pants?"

Sookie looked everywhere; at the ceiling, at Pam, at the computer screen, at the clock—anywhere, but at Bill. Seeing him opened old wounds that had barely started to heal. He was probably going to be an asset, she knew, but still, she couldn't just cut off the sentimental part of herself. This was the man she'd loved, and this was the man who'd let two pieces of white trash beat her half to death so that he could feed her his blood and secure her attachment to him because she was a mission, nothing more. It didn't matter whether he'd fallen in love with her later or not. Someone who could stand by and watch someone get killed without interfering was not someone she could forgive. It didn't help that a voice in the back of her mind kept telling her it wasn't because he was a vampire. That might have helped her feel a little better, because it wouldn't have meant that out of all vampires, she had to select the one who was devious and manipulative and one who lied to everyone about his humanity. However, that was the truth of it. She'd been so stupid.

The arrival of Charles, Logan, Mystique and Sabretooth was a welcome distraction. "Welcome to the Amnesia Club, bub," Logan said the Eric as soon as he walked through the door. No one ever said he was subtle or sensitive.

"Thank you," said Eric solemnly. "I think." His brow was furrowed with a frown as he took in the sight of the Wolverine with his strange twin-peaked hair, and of course, naked blue Mystique. There was no for him to ask questions, however, as they had to plan his guard detail. An Eric without his memories was a vulnerable Eric. After much suspicion from the vampires, they allowed Charles to attempt to read his mind to see if he could bring back any memories. The older telepath, unlike Sookie, wasn't afraid to let the vampires know what he could do. He was, after all, powerful enough to kill with a thought. That made him very dangerous. Luckily, there was hardly a bigger philanthropist in the world than Charles Xavier, unless she was making a drastic mistake yet again. Still, both Marie and Logan trusted him, and Sookie, in turn, trusted their judgement most of the time. That, and Gabriel Van Helsing had spoken well of the telepath.

Apparently, it wasn't all that helpful. It made Eric swear —well, it sounded like swearing; technically, Sookie didn't understand what was being said as it was in some foreign language that probably went extinct a couple of centuries ago— but that was about it. "I do not understand," he said. "What does it all mean? I saw images, but they did not make sense. There was so much death."

"The mind is not a box to be opened or closed at will," said Charles gently as he lowered his hands. "You must be patient and let the memories resurface on their own."

"What if they do not?" asked the Nordic vampire.

"You just gotta keep on livin'," said Logan with a shrug. "It don't get much easier, but you learn to live with it, bub. Granted, I only have...what, one hundred, maybe two hundred years worth missing, compared to your thousand years, but the principle's gotta be the same, right?"

"You know, Jimmy," drawled the Sabretooth, flashing a grin at his amnesiac younger brother. "You could just ask me. I could tell you most of what happened."

"Is there anyone who can tell me about...me?" asked Eric.

"I suppose there are various people who know bits of your history, darling," said Sybille. "But there are few who know you well enough to tell you everything, and they are probably all truly dead."

Fangtasia was empty, even though there were a few cars in the parking lot. Yvetta recognized Eric's corvette. She'd so wanted him to fuck her on the hood, but the last time she'd suggested it, he'd said that the studs on her costume would scratch the paint. It was petty, and it was ineffectual, but she grabbed her keys and strode over to the car anyway. That vampire loved his car more than anything. She left seven parallel scratches on the driver's door, not knowing if he would ever see them, but it made her feel slightly better that she'd somehow managed to hurt him. She wanted to make him pay for the humiliation she'd suffered. Him choosing another woman —that woman— over her was unthinkable. She was every man's dream! She'd gone under the knife enough times to make sure of that. Her proportions were absolutely fucking perfect.

Her focus shifted. Yes, she would get that bitch. Somehow, she would get her. Most likely, the vampires would have kept records of all their employees. She remembered seeing filing cabinets in Eric's office when he'd once taken her on the desk. The witch focused her power on the lock on the employee's entrance. The lock began to smoke and melt. She kicked open the door. Eric's filing cabinets were well-organized. Big bad vampire sheriff obviously liked being in total control. She wondered what had happened to him. Hallow's spell had gone wrong, so there was not knowing what he'd ended up as. Perhaps he'd been changed into a slug? She could only hope.

There. Marie Anna D'Ancanto; currently living in Bon Temps, just over an hour's drive from Shreveport. Her species was listed as human, but Yvetta knew better. Everyone working at Fangtasia was aware that the bitch was a mutant. Maybe that was the reason why Northman was so into her. Perhaps she tasted different, or maybe he just wanted an exotic pet. "Hallow, look at this," she said. "I think I know where he might be."

The King of Arkansas was getting impatient. Hallow had promised him that she would hand him Louisiana on a platter —preferably not silver— so that they could split it down the middle. However, things had not gone according to plan. Some magical force or another had disrupted her spell, but so subtly that she had no idea what it was. She hadn't even felt it.

The older witch followed Yvetta inside the club. It was empty. The door of the Viking's office was half open, and she could hear her sister rummaging inside, tossing folders onto the floor in search of something, most likely an address of some sort. Hallow wasn't as interested in the address as the magical signature of whatever had disrupted her spell. She hadn't had a failed spell ever since she'd been sixteen.

Traces of the magic still remained in the office, even though the carrier of the spell —Holly— had long since been removed. Vampires were excellent at hiding murders. Still, human law enforcement was catching up. The new forensic technology was quite impressive. However, magic still stumped those scientists in their clean metallic labs and white lab coats. Magic needed no rationale. It didn't need formulae or set theories. It didn't have to justify its existence with facts and strict guidelines about what should or should not be. Science was dead and set in stone. Magic was alive and ever changing. That was the beauty of it. One could never predict what would happen when one used magic. If it went wrong, then it went horribly wrong. Hallow liked the danger, not just in magic, but in everything else in life. That was probably one of the factors driving her to even considering bargaining with the Vampire King of Arkansas and threatening the Regent of Louisiana. That, and she could never be satisfied with what she had. The most powerful coven in North America wasn't enough for her. Millions of dollars worth of shares in casinos wasn't enough of her. She wanted to be more than just a rich woman. She wanted to be a queen. She'd always thought that she was meant to rule. More than that, she always felt she had something to prove to the world. She might not have been beautiful, or even passably attractive, but she had power. That was something no one could ever take from her.

Her magic lingered in the empty office, of course, but there was also something else she couldn't place. There was something old and subtle, like the woody scents that formed the barely detectable base of a perfume, and also something dark, perhaps darker than her own spell. Hallow cast out her sixth sense. It wasn't as honed as some. Some people were born with the ability to feel magic like tasting a soup and identifying all the ingredients, or hearing a symphony and deciphering all the chords, the cadences, whether they were in major keys or minor keys, and all that. However, what she did feel alarmed her. The magic that had disrupted her spell read like a void; a black hole. Something had absorbed the force of the spell.

At that moment, her cell phone rang. It was Peter Threadgill, King of Arkansas. He was a slimy bastard, but he was a useful slimy bastard. He was willing to lend her an army of vampires if she would only take out the Regent of Louisiana for him. It worked to both their advantages. Threadgill knew he couldn't deal with Northman at his full strength. He'd coordinated with some of the other sheriffs in Louisiana —after having paid them handsome sums of money, of course, which was probably more than a poor kingdom like Arkansas could afford. Once Northman was eliminated, Hallow's coven and Threadgill's army, as well as the cooperative sheriffs, would sweep through Louisiana, eliminating all opposition. Half of Louisiana would be absorbed into the Kingdom of Arkansas, whilst the other half was to become Hallow's own personal fiefdom. She already had the tax laws all planned out. All the supes in the area would pay her tribute.

"Do you have him?" demanded Threadgill without bothering with any niceties.

"Not yet," said Hallow. She wasn't about to tell him that her spell had malfunctioned. That would be signing her own death warrant. "Some things cannot be rushed. When I have him, I will tell you."

"You had better not make me wait too long, witch," snarled the vampire. "My patience has limits." He hung up on her. Hallow snapped her phone shut. Oh, yes, she would get him very soon. Yvetta had found the fangbanger's address. It was unlikely that if he was there, Northman would move anywhere else, with dawn approaching so soon. She didn't mean to kill him, as Threadgill intended, of course. She had much better uses for a vampire of the Viking's age and prowess. Taking a vampire during the day would be easy.

They were staying at the farmhouse until nightfall, when they would make alternative arrangements. Eric couldn't stay in Bon Temps. He'd pretty much shown everyone who cared to look that he was tied to this town. Both his telepath and his woman lived here, and Marie was sure that if Hallow was powerful enough to cast a spell like this on the vampire, she wouldn't have problems connecting the dots.

The Regent's guard detail was to remain with him at all times, not that Marie had any intention of leaving him whilst he was at his most vulnerable. He'd held onto her as if she was a protective amulet. Perhaps it was the familiarity of her touch and the flow of emotions that came with it. Somewhere, deep in his subconscious, he remembered. It was as if the witches' spell had locked away all the history and experience that had shaped the Eric Northman they all knew, and left behind simply the essence of Eric. He was still a leader, still brave and still proud, but gone was the overinflated ego —he didn't have a thousand years worth of memories to convince him that he was superior to ninety nine point nine percent of living creatures on earth— and the self-assuredness. He hid his doubts well, but she could sense his emotions whenever she touched him, and she couldn't blame him for being uncertain. After all, part of the plan was teaching him how to be his former self. Teaching Eric to be Eric; this was going to be interesting, to say the least.

She was just clearing out the floor of Sookie's other closet; the one that housed Bill's old hidey hole. Bill wouldn't be staying here, of course. He wasn't welcome in this house, and if not for the fact that they needed a slightly older vampire who was compiling a database on all vampires in the world, and was therefore knowledgeable about pretty much every other vampire, Sookie would probably have kicked him out without a second thought. Even if she didn't, Marie might have, or maybe Logan. Oh yeah. Logan would definitely have planted his boot on Bill's ass, to put it delicately. The Wolverine didn't take well to others maltreating people who were close to him.

During the entire war council, Logan had been shooting the Civil War vampire angry glares. If looks could kill, Bill would have been ash by now. Quinn had been on the receiving end of those looks too, since he was a double agent. Marie felt a little sorry for the were-tiger, actually. Not only had he not been given back his clothes, and therefore had to attend the war council dressed in his purple boxers and nothing else —that Theodora might have been almost eight centuries old, but she could be so immature sometimes— but he was also stuck between a rock and a concrete slab. Either way, he could easily get himself and his family killed.

Eric stood behind her. His mask of strength and control was mostly gone, now that he was alone in a room with her. Wordlessly, he took the piles of towels and empty shoe boxes she took out of the closet and set them aside neatly in a corner. Even though he'd forgotten who he was, he still liked to be organized. "I know it's a little small," she said as she opened the trapdoor to show him the hidey hole. "But it's safe, for now."

The Viking sniffed. "It smells of that other vampire. William?" he said.

"That's because he used to stay the night here sometimes," said Marie. Eric looked dejected.

"Were you...his?" he asked.

"Me?" Marie almost snorted. "Oh, no. He's not my type. My cousin, Sookie?" He nodded. He remembered being reintroduced to Sookie. "She was with him for a little while, but they broke up."

"Broke up?" The modern lexicon stumped him.

"She decided she didn't want to be his anymore."

"Oh," said Eric. "That makes sense. You smell of me."

"I guess I do."

"Are you mine?"

"We have a sort of relationship." It was complicated.

"What sort of relationship?"

"An intimate one."

"So you are my woman." He seemed to brighten up at the idea. "I think my other self has good taste."

"I think you're still you, just without your memories," Marie pointed out with a little smile. That much was true. He still had all his usual characteristics, just without a thousand years of experience to enhance certain traits or subdue them.

"I find that very inconvenient," said the vampire. He made an irritated sound to show just how inconvenient he thought it was. "My child tells me I am over a thousand years old. There is a lot to learn."

"There is, but we'll get your memories back, I promise, and you won't have to learn anything."

"But until then, I will still have to learn something about myself. I must pretend there is nothing wrong with me, no? Therefore, there are things I must know." He reached out to cup her face gently. "I feel as if I know you," he whispered, "even though I do not. It is strange. Some part of me remembers, but I do not know what I remember, or why."

"I can't tell you anything," she said, wishing that she could. She had feelings for this man, vampire, whatever, but she realized, now more than ever, that she knew practically nothing about him apart from the fact that he was a wily politician and a Viking. Oh, he was a sex god, and he also loved the colour red. Was it wise to have feelings for someone who she hardly knew? Or were they all fools in love? Wait...love? Did she love him? She was certainly upset that part of her Eric had been stripped away—her Eric? God, she was becoming as bad as a vampire with the possessive pronouns.

"Stay with me until dawn, please?" he implored. Eric Northman imploring; that just wasn't right.

"Of course," she said. And then she sneezed. Oh dear. On top of this entire mess, she just had to catch a cold. In an instant, Eric was looming in front of her, genuine worry written all over his face.

"Are you ill?" He placed a hand on her forehead to feel her temperature. All in all, it sounded as if he thought she was dying, or something.

"Oh, it's just a cold," she assured him. "It's nothing big."

"You must rest if you are ill," he stated with much concern. "Perhaps I could stay with you in your bedchamber, until dawn, if that is all right with you?"

"I guess..." she said. He would smell himself in her room, and perhaps, maybe...well, it couldn't help to provide something to trigger his memories, could it? She was a little shy about it. Perhaps there was the feeling that this wasn't the man who had shown her the meaning of making love. Sure, he had the same body, and the same personality traits, but how much of one person was composed of their genetic disposition, and how much of a person was formed by their experiences. Would this Eric, stripped of all his memories, still be her Eric? Or was he merely Eric Lite? And if he was the latter, would being with him be a sort of betrayal to the real Eric? Then again, real Eric, memories and all, was locked in there somewhere, so in essence, he was the same man. "Of course," she said. "But you'll know when dawn is coming, right?"

"I believe so," said Eric. "It is instinct." He trailed her to her bedroom. Luckily, everyone else was still downstairs. The other vampires were debating over resting places. Pam had commandeered Bill's resting place in his house, so Bill could either sleep in the ground or in his travel coffin. That Pam. Her determination, confidence and her complete belief in her own importance had to be admired. Bill Compton didn't stand a chance against her, even though she was younger. Eric informed her that Logan was threatening Quinn with decapitation or worse, such as Jack's suggestion of 'snip snip', if he ever tried to betray them.

Eric made a face when he relayed the 'snip snip' part to Marie. Apparently, the meaning was universally understood, even by vampires who didn't know any modern lexicon. "I would not like to be enemies with your friends," the vampire informed her, referring to Logan and Jack. "They can be quite diabolical."

"It's a good thing that you're not their enemies, then," said Marie as she opened the door. "They're your allies." She ducked into the bathroom to get changed and when she came back into the bedroom, she found that Eric had removed his shoes, lined them up neatly beside her bed, and was lying half beneath the covers, with his hands behind his head. He patted the spot beside him with a seductive grin. Some things never changed.

"I think I remember doing this," he said once she'd crawled into bed beside him. It felt so natural just to snuggle up against his room temperature body. Unfortunately, room temperature wasn't all that warm at the moment, but that was all right. She was just glad he was with her, instead of spirited off to wherever those bitches were. "I remember doing this too." He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

"What else do you remember?" she murmured.

"I will gladly show you, if you will allow me, milady," he whispered in a husky voice. It turned out that there were some parts of his psyche that the witches' amnesia spell hadn't managed to touch at all. It was too bad that it was so close to dawn.

A/N: And so things get messier and messier.