I own nothing to do with True Blood. I am just a victim of True Blood/Eric Northman/Alexander Skarsgard addiction.

I want to thank you all so much for your reviews. Every alert, and review means so much to me! I absolutely loved reading your thoughts, and I am hoping you will enjoy this chapter! I am trying to keep chapters a more consistent length, I realize they haven't been very long. So sorry if you see any errors, or mistakes.

Hope you enjoy, please let me know ;)

What Lurks Beneath

Chapter Five

Gran kept Jason and I busy all through the next day cleaning the house, being a Saturday and we didn't have school and all. Gran had a date tonight- well, she refused to consider it that, like it was the most absurd thing- with Mr. Compton, our new fangy nextdoor neighbour visiting.

Gran had Jason vaccuming around the house, even though he would have preffered heading off to the gym first thing to train, while Gran scrubbed and bleached the bathroom tiles.

Gran was anal when it came to keeping her house clean. She worked like a frantic woman on a mission, without even breaking out in the lightest sheen of sweat, despite going at the scrubbing for hours.

I, on the other hand, was left with the kitchen duties; wiping down the chopper where Gran cut all her vegetables, and tying up the garbage bags to take them out to the trash.

She even had me emptying her cat's litter tray, which made me dry-heave like nothing ever before. The smell was overpowering and pungent and, to make matters a whole lot worse, there were flies buzzing around incessantly near the cats tray. While working at it, I couldn't help wondering whether vamps kept animals as pets, or not. Did they find companionship and comfort in the little critters, like we did?

"Sookie," Gran brought me out of my indulgent thoughts instantly, and I looked up at her from the plastic trash bags I was tying and looping together. "It's six o'clock, right on the dot. Mr. Compton will be here soon, dear. I think you should go change into something pretty."

I could tell Gran was ecstatic about having the vampire into her home for the evening. He intrigued her mightily, I could tell. Not because he was a vampire- well, maybe it had a little to do with that- but because he was bound to have some insightful tales from before Gran's time. Gran absolutely loved watching television historical documentaries on the World War and she'd soak it all up like a sponge greedily, whenever she did.

I did what she said at once, leaving the bundle of garbage bags right there on the kitchen floor. I would take them out, afterwards.

I chose to wear my favorite dress. It brought out my tanned legs and arms something lovely.

It was a nice and comfortable bright yellow dress, with white floral patterns on the fabric. Heck, it even showed a lot of my cleavage, which Gran was not keen on at the start, but I think she just gave in and let me wear it for the sake of it. I had even put in the little silver cross earrings Gran had given me last Christmas to compliment the look.

Gran had raised me as a conservative young woman, and I hadn't even had a proper boyfriend yet. While Tara had told me one time, that she had gone so far as to sleep with an older boy at age fourteen, I was still a boring innocent little virgin- in Gran's eyes, anyway.

I finished the look off by tying back my blonde hair up into a loose bun. At least, then, you could see the earrings, dangling and glinting there from my earlobes.

When I entered Gran's room to do a little swirl, showing it off to her, I found her sitting on her bed, attaching her clip-on pearl earrings.

She asked for me to help her apply her powder, which I did, patting her skin with the matte ivory foundation. She kept her white thick hair loosely curled- like she rarely did, only on special occassions. Clearly, she considered this one of them. I wondered if she'd count this evening with Mr. Compton as some special kind of date.

Once finished, Gran turned to her bedside mirror to inspect the end result. Then, with a satisfied hum in my direction, she got started on smearing a daub of her mauve lipstick. I grinned widely to myself. Gran was always so pretty whenever she took pride and effort into her appearance and tonight, even more so.

I found myself feeling both a little worried for her and suspicious, as it all sunk in. Gran hardly ever made all that big of a fuss on her appearance- so why should she start now? All we were doing, was inviting Mr. Compton over... that's all.

As the realization immediately dawned onto me, just why Gran was being more fussy than usual tonight, my eyes widened.

"Oh my God, Gran," I giggled, struggling tiresomely to breathe.

Gran's reflection gave me an odd look through the mirror, like she was suspicious over why I was exploding with laughter loudly the way I was, and I had to clutch a hand over my mouth to stifle the bout of giggles overcoming me childishly.

"What is it, Sookie?" She whispered, a little put-off, as she turned fully to meet my gaze. She patted her neck, self-consciously. "Is it too much? Should I lose the lipstick?"

"Gran's got herself a crush!" I shrieked excitedly, a little louder than I had intended. I found it kind of sweet. Dear little Gran Stackhouse... having dibs on our vampire nextdoor neighbour!

"Oh, Sookie," she groaned in disapproval, frowning deeply. "Hush. I am an old lady, and old ladies do not have schoolgirl crushes, like you seem to presume!"

Now I was laughing even harder by the over-defensive lilt to her voice, clutching at my ribs. "Oh, Gran, just admit it: You want to be the 'Bang', to his 'Fang'!" I giggled even louder at my witty, little pun. Only Gran did not join me; she looked on, unimpressed.

"Sookie, I'm a little old to be tied up into that fangbanging nonsense, don't you think?"

I was unable to answer her question, because the giggles just would not go away, no matter how hard I willed them to. I was getting dangerously close to tearing up throughout the hysterical feelings inside. My eyes were brimming over with tears at the corners.

"That is it, young lady," Gran sighed in a final, deadly tone. "Out of my room. Now!" She didn't have to say it twice.

After managing to recollect myself, I apologized, then quickly got back to work in the kitchen, collecting all the garbage bags to dump out into the trash can outside on the porch, which I had almost forgotten about.

"Compton, you need to man up and grow a pair," a very familiar voice to my ears was saying from a while away into the next yard. Deep, baritone. This Eric Northman.

"I beg your pardon?" Another voice I recognized easily as Mr. Compton's hissed lowly.

"Becoming a Maker can be very satisfying when done right. I must ask, how old is she?"

Just as I was struggling to lug three bags full of trash, all at once, the sight of them appeared over by the opening of Mr. Compton's peeling large weatherboard house. I paused with what I was doing, leering over the fence with all the quietness in my feet I could muster. I was more than just a little curious, frankly.

"Seventeen," Mr. Compton answered reluctantly, "but I have been her Maker for ten."

"Then, it stands to reason, you need to man up."

This Eric Northman gave Mr. Compton several loud echoing thumps on the back. It seemed more belittling, than encouraging though, and from what little I could tell, Mr. Compton did not like Eric Northman embracing him one bit with those large hands. I noticed him stiffen.

"Show her who's in charge here, Bill," Eric Northman said, like it was as easy as learning how to tie your shoelace. Which, having met this Jessica girl briefly, it probably would be not. "Pull the reigns. How difficult can it be?"

Mr. Compton blinked at his words, then started pacing back and forth restlessly on his porch. Then, with a defeated sigh, he buried his face into a pair of splayed hands hopelessly. My heart broke just a little. I felt awfully sorry for him. "I have tried, time and time again," he howled, in frustration. "But Jessica does not obey me! She will not comply to my commands!"

They were silent for what felt like a lifetime. I could almost hear crickets chirping in the damp grass outside Gran's yard from afar.

Then, this Eric Northman was talking again.

"I must add, forgive me for acting in defense and throwing your child into a tree," he was telling Mr. Compton, though in a tone that would suggest he would have rathered otherwise than to admit it out in the open. "I am finding myself..."- He fell eerily silent for a moment, as if searching for the correct words- "...regrettably and abnormally attached to this little Stackhouse human. Therefore, I am not entirely responsible for my actions. In the meantime, allow me to show you just how efficacious taking control in your Maker-Progeny bonding can be..." His voice trailed off from earshot, until it was gone completely. I felt disatisfied, and left longing to overhear more.

Then, with a quick crackle of the leaves in Gran's garden, he was there...

I was starting to learn that this was a common thing for vampires.

One moment they weren't there, then in the next, they were.

Although I had time to prepare myself in advance, I still gave out what sounded an audible gulp, when I realized Mr. Compton was standing there a length's away from the porch steps to Gran's house. His face was white as a ghost and still, as he looked up at me, and it seemed to be floating disconcertedly against the black background of the night.

I took in what he was wearing with wide-eyed appreciation; Gran would be beside herself. He truly looked as if he had made some effort for her, wearing a crisp clean white button-up shirt, and less-tighter jeans than before. His hair even looked combed and neater. It was nice Gran hadn't been the only one making herself look especially nice tonight.

I wouldn't forgive myself, had I forgotten the manners Gran still expected of me.

I forced on a big old inviting grin, beckoning him forward with a whisk of my hand. "Come on up," I said, quietly. "Gran has been expecting you. She's just inside."

He hesitated for a moment, before heading up the steps to meet me by the screen door.

He looked nervous, just like before. "I must say it now before I forget later on," he said, and I noticed his voice was a little quivery. How unexpected. "I apologize profusely for Jessica's irratic behaviour. It was most... unpleasant."

"Yes, it was," I agreed, stiffly. I wasn't going to start pretending it wasn't, just for the sake of making him feel comfortable and better about himself.

"I truly am regretful," he said slowly, looking me deeply in the eyes, like he meant it with complete and total honesty. "I have kept Jessica away from human contact for quite some time. She is not accustomed to... the behaviour that is expected of her, when we co-mingle with humans like yourself."

"What did your daughter do to me exactly?" I asked finally, the question that had been bugging the hell out of me ever since last night's crazy events outside Mr. Compton's large house near the porch. "For the briefest of a second there, I felt as if I was having some kind of... out-of-body experience." I struggled to find the proper words to explain and kindly, he waited on me in patience. "Like my soul had left my body."

"Ah, yes." He cleared his throat, wincing in discomfort. "Jessica was attempting to glamour you."

"Glamour me?" I repeated, both miffed at the notion, and yet, the slightest hint intrigued. "What is that?"

"It is a natural instict that us vampires rely on, though... it is usually unpleasant for you mortals," he explained, readily. "It's like we hypnotize you from your senses, and can use it effectively to lure you in." I could tell by the tight compression on his stiff lips, that he was trying to fight a proud smile. "It is very rare for any human to be immune from our influence."

"Lordy," I whispered breathlessly. It took me a few seconds to absorb that. "So, even you could try glamour me... whenever you felt like it?"

"It's very likely to work," he warned, sounding a little scared.

"Then, try it on me and see," I demanded, eagerly. There was no harm in seeing, right? I knew and trusted Mr. Compton wouldn't dare hurt me unlike his clearly uncontrollable daughter, especially considering he was trying to go to great lengths to impress Gran so much.

"I... I do not care for using it," he protested, a little shakily.

"Just try. Go ahead," I beckoned. I felt excited. The adrenaline was rushing. "There's no harm done in seeing, right?"

He gave me a reluctant, tiny smile. "Well, all right." He choked out a laugh nervously. "But, you must look me directly in the eyes."

"Sure," I agreed, and I did look into his wary eyes without a moment of hesitation.

He stepped directly in front of me, which I was not expecting in the least.

The light on Gran's porch bathed his face generously into a yellow glow. As I stared patiently, willing myself not to break contact, I was ready and waiting for the calm to come, soaking through my pores. Only it didn't come. I did not feel a soothing relaxation overcoming. It was quite... disappointing, yet exhilarating, all at the same time.

"Miss. Stackhouse, can you feel anything?" he whispered, an intense, concentrated look coming across his face.

Truthfully, all I felt was all the little hairs on the nape of my neck stick on end, due to the apprehension of being in such close quarters with this man that unnerved me a little.

"No, sorry," I admitted a second later, stepping further away from him to create a nice distance between us. He looked a little put-out, I could tell. "How funny. How come it works with Jessica, but... not with you?" I wondered, out loud.

But Mr. Compton looked just as confused as I felt. "I do not know why," he said, his voice coming out hoarser than usual. "This is very unusual. If it works for Jessica and you are not immune, then it should work for me..." He trailed off, stunned.

I breathed out a long sigh, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. Did that mean there was something wrong with me, if this glamouring only worked with a girl of the same-sex? Frantically, I hoped it didn't mean I was a lesbian, or something... Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course.

I felt a little shaken-up. I just couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.

But, with a firm chant for reassurance inside my mind, I forced myself to press on to more concerning issues. "Are you close friends with this Eric Northman?" I asked.

"No, thankfully I am not," he said, showing his pure disgust at the mere thought by scrunching up his pasty face. "However, I am aware he is the oldest in Louisiana of a thousand years, second to the King." He paused for a moment, regarding me very seriously. "Though, very powerful, he is nothing more than pretentious swine. Has he offered you his blood?"

"God, no." I shuddered visably. I felt ill at the thought. "Ugh. Gross!" I couldn't believe he had the nerve to ask such a thing.

While the coming out of vampires had been nothing short of a miraculous discovery- in my eyes, anyhow- others used their existence negatively to their advantage.

I've heard of many V addicts existing throughout Louisiana and that it was so easy to get addicted. Like it was an oncoming train that you couldn't see coming from a mile away... then out of nowhere, it hits you and ruins your life. I was against drugs or anything remotely close to it, thanks to my Gran's strict Christian-like upbringing

V blood was apparently as potent as heroin, or cocaine, in the system. Not that I would know from experience. I wouldn't dare touch the stuff, not in a million years.

"Then, I suspect he has fed from you?"

"Again, no," I protested, short of a shriek. It was a struggle to keep my voice neutral. "I would rather get hit by a train, than let a vampire do all that nasty stuff to me!"

"But... but he says you are his human?" He reminded me of this Eric Northman's bewildering declaration yesterday evening with nothing else but pure curiosity in his voice.

Of course, he hadn't really needed to. I could remember his words, clear as day. I could hardly sleep last night, because of them. How confident and determined he had said the statement... like it were bound to be fact.

"He has claimed you, as his. I suspect, somewhere... you have come to mutual agreement on the matter?"

"Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but it sounds an awful lot like you're accusing me of all these things I have absolutely no understanding of?" I concluded, stiffly. "Sure, I heard him say that I was his, but... I... I don't even know him! I've only seen him once before in my entire life- and that was only a few evenings ago!"

"Still, knowing the old Eric Northman, there cannot be anything good coming out of it. I do not know his intentions, but... years ago, whilst briefly in his acquaint-" He fell silent dramatically, the minute Gran had poked her lovely head out through the fly screen door.

"Mr. Compton, you're here at last," she said, ever so politely. She flushed underneath her make-up, as Mr. Compton returned her greeting with a cheesy smile. "Please, come in. I am dying to hear all about you!"

"Yes, ma'am," Mr. Compton said, immediately adopting a gentlemanly attitude. "I would be delighted."

Without another word or telling glance behind his shoulder at me, he slowly followed her in. I heard Gran chuckle, as he complimented her outfit amiably in further greeting.

Darn it.

I felt a deep pang of frustration from within. I, myself, was dying to hear more about this Eric Northman frankly. Mostly, I wanted to know where he initially came from. Well, I'd heard through their curt conversations, something about Shreveport and progeny. Whatever that had meant...

Sleepily, I rushed inside and threw open the bedding closet. I found one of Gran's thick brown afghans- one she was bound not to notice absent, and returned back outside hastily. After intervening on something unpleasant that had been destined to happen to me last night, underneath Jessica's so-called glamour spell, I felt I owed him something. What better than this?

While I sat out there in Gran's cane chair, I waited. Why or whom I was waiting for, I wasn't entirely sure. Well, really, I had a few hunches... Eric Northman. I was positive I had waited a little over half an hour and every minute that passed by, my stomach sank.

My eyelids gradually became heavier by the minute, but I would not let myself head inside, while Mr. Compton was still in there talking with Gran. I refused to.

I felt my eyelids flicker and, just as I was starting to relent into a sleep-riddled darkness, something large and white flashed into my vision.

I gasped and jolted right awake from my sleepiness, feeling suddenly sick with overwhelming anticipation.

His eyes were fixated on my own, as I clutched blindly for Gran's old afghan without daring to break the unblinking eye contact. "Human," he greeted, so softly, with a grim nod in acknowledgement that for a moment I was uncertain, wondering whether I had imagined him speaking, or not.

But then, automatically my eyes had taken in the way his sculpted lips moved. Nope, he definitely said something just then. No if's or but's about it.

Wordlessly, I leaned forward cautiously and held out the blanket in the air towards him. Purposely slow, just so he'd know I wasn't any threat... Not that I would have been any match for him physically, no more than Jason would have been.

Every time I saw him I couldn't seem to get passed how pitiful and big he looked.

Letting my eyes run over his looming form casually, I saw that he was shoeless again. The cuffs of his tight jeans were very filthy and torn. I felt such powerful motherly stirrings of compassion at the sight of him. For some surprising reason, I actually desired nothing more than to take him inside and give him a good old clean. It was crazy of me, not to mention downright risky.

I still didn't know whether I ought to have considered him a danger to me. Even with Mr. Compton's quick words outside before Gran had invited him in, it still hadn't offered me any inclination to trust him and let my guard down...

He stood there, completely still, like a stunned rabbit underneath my eyes. Perhaps he didn't know what I meant in offering him the afghan, so I tried again. "Come on now," I started, cooing at him just like he was Gran's cat. I hoped it wouldn't have offended him. "This is for you, little darling. It'll keep yourself warm if it rains and thunders outside again."

It seemed my little coos of encouragement worked and I had him coaxed very quickly.

With a rude sniffle from him, the fangs ran out to sink into his bottom lip while he took a slow, cautious step onto the porch. His strong, large hands were dangling, fisted, at his sides. His blue eyes were widened and wary. But I wasn't scared. In a way, I trusted him- no matter how irresponsible it was, or how fleeting his moment of benign behaviour might last...

"Come on now," I called again gently, shaking out Gran's long afghan into the air. Almost like I was calling to nothing more than a frightened stray little dog. "Take the blanket, that way you won't be left feeling cold- if vamps do feel the cold, that is."

He sniffled again loudly while he made another full step in progress, his nose twitching.

Without warning, he stretched out a long limbed arm to accept the blanket. Snatching it between his hands and pulling it from my grip roughly with a violent tug, more like it. I leaned back in fear, far away as possible in Gran's chair, stunned. My pulse felt it was racing, while my breathing spiked up.

Then with a grateful incline of his blonde head, he made a funny bowing gesture. He brought those chilling shining eyes back up to meet mine, and his harsh expression softened noticably. "My sincerest gratitude, little girl," he rumbled smoothly through the pointed fangs. "But... a warm cloth would hardly be necessary, when I could have you instead."