Chapter 18

The daily commuters between Bon Temps and Shreveport had dwindled by the time I caught the rail, leaving more empty space and fewer empty distractions. The ramblings of the random rail passengers failed to occupy my brain, too banal or drowsy to lock in my focus. Especially the sixty-year-old or so man who kept sniffing in my direction, cursing the flowers I transported. "Don't she know some of us got allergies? These young people today ain't got no respect." I was sorely tempted to set him straight. I had at least twenty years' life experience on him. Child. But that would be childish of me. Cruel possibly. But perhaps I needed to be a harder person. Is that what Alex had implied?

But why should I care a hillbilly's heap what Alex thought? I can be willfully naive

at times, but not since my first encounter with Bill had I been this near suicidal. Three times now I had put myself within a finger's length of his fangs. Maybe I did trust his Maker not to harm me—physically that is—more than any other vampire, but that faith could not be grandfathered in like a line in a legal document to his son. No, it was something more. For a few minutes I racked my jumbled head and came up with my best guess. As far as I could recall, Alex was the newest vampire I had ever encountered. There was a spark of humanness about him unseen in others of his kind. A strange reality to accept as he was also the most alien-looking creature I had ever beheld.

I leaned my head against the cool of the window, watching the twilight stream past. For my entire life I had believed that kindness and mercy were the most important traits to seek after. I had used them as the building blocks of my life when my whirlwind of years with vampires had crashed to an end; they had been the means of reconstructing a human existence. Or mostly human. There had always been magic there below the surface; the supernatural beneath the natural. Literally. Sam had been a shifter, I was a telepath, and my fairy Great-grandfather sent me letters via flower bushes.

I could see my reflection in the darkened glass of the rail. My young, unwrinkled skin. My thick, yellow hair. An ethereal glimmer within both. What had my Great-grandfather said about the gift that had come to me? That I had earned it from my sacrifices, from the magical blood spilled on my land? The blood that I had spilled? Did that mean that the extension of my life was because of the lives I had ended? My young reflection frowned back at me at the idea. What would that say about the years I had dedicated to cultivating a happy human life? What would that say about me? That I had in someway added to my own years by the years I had stolen from other living beings—like some thief, like some monster, like some vampire?

"No. No way," I said aloud. Mr. Hay Fever scowled at me like I was a crazy person. I blessed him with my kindest, widest, craziest smile. Because maybe after all these decades of people thinking I was crazy—I finally was.

I flipped away from the window. This gift was meant to protect those I loved, to make me strong. And it had made me strong. I had healed. I had broken through a spell. I had even done something to Eric. I didn't understand my powers—I didn't like that I seemed most powerful when angry. But I knew as certainly as I knew I loved my children that there must be a way to save my humanity and embrace—what had Alex called it—the forgotten song of the Fae? I may not be able to carry a tune if it was strapped to my back, but I would learn to sing this fairy melody.

I thought of my kids and grandkids. So far, my gift in their eyes had terrified them, and I couldn't deny that it had invited danger back into our world. Or had the danger never left? I stared down at the red roses, whose card I had yet to read. Perfection in a plant. Intoxicating. Intriguing. Intentional. Maybe the danger in my life had been like these roses, ignoring the calling card, though unable to reject the bloom.

Apparently something big was coming my way in a couple days. Apparently I couldn't trust my granddaughter—that knife was stuck inside deep, jammed right between my shoulder blades, out of my reach to extract it. Apparently lives depended on me, in a way I had yet to understand. And I'd be damned—maybe literally—if I didn't use everything available to me—all that instinctive, impetuous compassion of my very frail human heart, and this new, barely tapped power of my fairy kin.

"What in Sam Hill's name is wrong with that lady? She radioactive?" Hay Fever man was staring at me again, and this time I couldn't blame him—I'd started to glow. I smiled, small-like at him, suddenly said, "Boo!" and glanced away giggling, as he startled and sneezed in response.

Yep. I'd finally gone crazy.

Fortunately my stop was next and I hightailed it out of there. My pace was still at a slight jog as I hurried into my driveway. I paused to catch my breath and readjust my load, hitching up the box in my hands and my purse which had slipped into the crook of my elbow. My sloppy bun was just plain, old sloppy now. I hefted the flower box a little higher against my chest once more, flipped my unruly hair out of my face, and yelped. I guess it was my turn to startle—ain't karma grand?

The vampire stood two feet away, his skin incandescent in the moonlight, his tailored black suit blending into the cool night, contrasting sharply with the paleness of his complexion. I had actually been expecting this one or the other one to be waiting for me outside of Gile's clinic, and might have clicked my heels when neither of them were there, if I hadn't been carrying so much extra weight.

I said nothing, as he had said nothing, and started heading right for my house. He started walking alongside me, a glistening, twilight shadow—in Armani.

"Can we talk about this?" Bill asked when we reached the front porch.

"Nope," I said, grunting slightly.

The box was getting heavier and heavier. And then poof, it was gone, as were my purse and clothes bag. I stared down at my empty arms and then up at Bill, who had already placed the box and bags beside the door next to the potted shrubs. I blinked and he was a foot above me and inches before me on the bottom porch step.

"Please, Sookie."

I waved my arms and let fall my hands onto my thighs, slapping them slightly in frustration. "What is it you want to talk about?"

He stared at me with those depthless, dark eyes. I wondered how long it had been since anyone—vampire or human—had said no to Bill. He was not only King, according to Fanged Forbes, he was the wealthiest vampire in North America, and the sixth wealthiest in the world. Sure it was a new age with our new gizmos and new appreciation for climate conservation—but money still talked, and Bill and his tech empire were the slickest, richest conversationalists in the Western Hemisphere. Ironic, really, since in terms of personality, Bill was one of the least talkative individuals I knew. Doubly ironic, that he was asking me to do just that—chat.

"Ten minutes is all I ask," he said.

"Fine," I growled, and brushed past him, flinging myself onto the porch swing and crossing my arms. "You can talk—for five minutes—and I'll listen. I've got nothing to say, myself."

He was still facing the yard. He lowered his head and said to the ground, in that soft, southern way of his: "I was neither attempting to make you jealous or make me a new you when I shared relations with Grace. She is beautiful and enticing. I surrendered." He turned to me now. "I did not feed from her, however. I want you to know I did not taste her blood."

I cocked both my eye brows up at him. When he realized that was all I had by way of reply, he moved on and moved forward. "Eric informed me that you had rescued his progeny from my home. I had no knowledge of his imprisonment there. I have not visited my home since Thanksgiving. Eric believes me—which I hope means that you will too. I went there today, and have decided to upgrade my security system. I never minded the ease with which your grandkids broke into my home, but I now see the dangers of not properly securing what is mine."

This admission, spoken so lightly, did pull a response from me. I was too well-mannered not to say something. "I apologize for their disrespect. I only learned of their past antics this week."

"Think nothing of it." He strode forward, blocking the moon and standing less than a foot away. I had to tilt my head up to see his eyes. "For truly, I think of nothing but you."

That was my exit cue. My eyes locked on his as I slowly stood up, feeling the cool of his body slide down me as I rose. I enjoyed the sensation, even if I couldn't appreciate the source of the excitement.

"Time's up, Bill," I said, my lips inches from his mouth. The heat in his eyes was perceptible even in the dark. I didn't wait another second, and scooted sideways past him, taking the two steps to my door. I bent down and picked up my purse and clothes bag. The flowers could wait. All I wanted was a hot shower, hot supper, and my soft sheets. I might actually be able to sleep in my bed alone tonight without reaching out in sad futility for the warm body of Sam.

I dug my keys out of my purse. The inside lights were mostly out—a relief, really. It meant no one was home. I wouldn't have to explain things to Jennings, pretend happiness with Riley, or face Grace. I didn't know what I might do if I saw her. I needed time to process. Those southern manners got the better of me.

"Evening, Bill. Thank you for the flowers."

I put my key in the deadbolt.

"Eric wants you Sookie."

I unlocked the door.

"What's new? So do you—and any other vampire within a twenty mile radius of me."

I turned the handle.

"He ripped Heidi's hands off."

My purse and bag slipped from my shoulder and I turned around. Bill stood, arms at his side, expression bland, rooted to the same spot on my porch as moments ago. It didn't look like he'd gone crazy. So yep. I must have.

"I think I heard you wrong."

"Heidi is a procurer of—"

"I know what she sometimes does. She wanted to procure me, or my blood."

"Precisely. She approached Eric with a business plan for marketing you. He responded by ripping off her hands."

Overreaction much, I wanted to yell. Instead I gaped at the King in shock and horror. "What did Pam do?"

"What could Pam do? She'd warned her wife not to stir the pot. Heidi thought there wasn't anything wrong with proposing an idea to family."

"And Eric—"

"Eric spared her because she is Pam's, in my opinion. Her hands will regrow. Eventually."

"Right." I could only imagine what the next Northman family supper would look like. I wouldn't want to be there. Pass the TrueBlood, Heidi—oh wait, you can't!

"He nearly killed his new day man Chuck, draining him within a liter of his life." Well that explained his new day worker Cookie—if anything could explain Cookie. I didn't see what that had to do with me, until Bill continued, in that gentle, bland voice, "I had loaned Chuck out to Eric while he searched for Alex. He had been in my service only a few weeks prior, but yesterday when you told Chuck that you had found Alex in my home, he panicked, displaying a foolish and unnecessary amount of loyalty to me. He lied to Eric and said that you had called and finally confessed to kidnapping Alex yourself. The young man is, apparently besotted by me, and hoped to gain my affection and a return to my services by protecting me from Eric's wrath."

Chills were rippling up and down my spine now. I knew how Eric had "replenished" himself for me last night—a bit of poetic justice, really. "Eric blames Chuck for my injuries, I take it."

"The ones you are no longer afflicted by, I notice." Bill roved his gaze sharply over my body, as if scraping my skin with his razor fangs.

I wound my arms across my chest, wishing I was in anything but these painted on clothes from Grace. They didn't leave anything to the imagination, and I could tell Bill was imagining all sorts of anythings right now. "Yeah well, they hurt like the dickens last night." I guess I partially blamed Chuck, too. I doubt Eric would have given much credence to the creep's words if he hadn't found me in that precarious position, though. Oh the tangled webs...blame him or not, the lying idiot had not deserved a draining.

"Okay, so you think Eric is unhinged or something?" I was tired. I was done.

"How has Eric been with you?"

"He's been Eric, Bill—and as much as I don't like that he's gone on a war path, apparently, to defend me or avenge wrongs against me—it sounds like Eric just being Eric."

"He offered you two million for your blood."

My arms wound tighter, so did my nerves. "How do you know that?"

"I'm the King, Sookie. I hear things."

The balcony door had been ajar, I recalled. But a nosy vampire didn't need anything more than focus to have eavesdropped on that conversation. It had only been three days ago. Might as well have been a million. My stomach wrung together as a wet, dirty towel. I figured where Mr. Moneybags—or King Moneybags—was headed. I was wrong.

"He doesn't know you if he believed you would be influenced by money."

"I don't think he actually—"

"I once told you I would give anything to lie with you again."

Bill's eyes were drinking me in once more, with the same fierce precision. I vaguely remembered that day he was mentioning. I think it had been during a wedding.

"I know I could give away my entire fortune, my crown, and you would refuse me, but I must ask—would you lie with me if it meant you could see your husband again?"

The porch beneath me vanished. And I was stripped of space and sound. "What are you talking about Bill?" Lost, I searched his face for some semblance of truth. "Sam is dead."

"Yes, he is, and his return would not be for long, but I have heard things. I want you to come to me willingly, but I am beyond desperation. I understand Eric. I want you, too, Sookie. I have loved you always. You know this. If not for Sam, I would have approached you. You were always beautiful. If you choose this, if you choose me—you will want for nothing ever again. Your children and grandchildren will want for nothing. I can send them to the moon. I can give you the moon. I can give you your husband."

Tears fogged my vision; my lungs blew with an airy nothing. I backed away, the doorknob and keys digging into my hip. My feet tripped on the bags. I picked them up, curling them against one arm. My trembling hand latched onto the knob.

"I think you need to leave, Bill."

"You have two days to decide, my dear."

The words almost caught in my throat, slipping out as a whisper, "The Winter Solstice."

Bill nodded, a small wrinkle in his brow. "Yes—how did you know?"

"I didn't."

Bill opened his mouth but I couldn't hear one more thing tonight. Not one more word. Alex first. Bill second. No more. I leaned against my door, unlatching it, and spun inside. My breath sped out of my lungs. My purse and bags dropped to the floor and I slumped down with them, my hair snagging painfully on the wooden grooves of the door. I sat on my entryway floor, legs sprawled and back curved, unmoving, unthinking, unknowing.

I had lied to Alex. If Bill came knocking in forty-eight hours, I couldn't guarantee I wouldn't answer the door.

Note- I love your theories. And Sookie maybe should skedaddle. If she didn't really love all the intrigue, she just may. Not many Bill fans—I suppose especially now. Have a Happy Tuesday. Thanks so much for the reviews. Their like little hellos that pop up in my email all day.