Firstly, I own nothing to do with True Blood, or SVM. I just love Eric and Sookie, like most I'm sure. I like them way more than Bill and Sookie- and that's not to discredit Bill at all. But, I'm sure... in this story, I've painted him out to be the bad guy. But it's fun for me to do so, and hopefully fun for you all as well!

Thank you all so so much for your continued interest! It inspired me greatly! Hoping you will enjoy this one! Feel free to let me know, your thoughts are much welcome! xx

Chapter Thirteen

The man came to sit by me on the side of my bed. The springs squeaked and lurched underneath his substantial weight, when he shifted over a fraction to run his dark eyes over me.

Everything was so darn... confusing. And, not to mention, too much for my mind to absorb all at once.

He gave me a stiff, toothy smile. Even then, I couldn't understand what his intentions were. He held himself as such a self-restrained, cordial person, even to me. There was nothing hostile about him at all. I just couldn't tell whether he was purposefully hamming it up, or not.

"Do you know who I am, girl?"

I shook my head violently, eyeing him with cautious, widened eyes.

"Well, let me make it clear on you then. My name is Russell Edgington." He seemed royally pissed over, when I just stared at him blankly. Was that supposed to mean something to me? Considering the way he said it, like it was such an announcement, it seemed it should have meant something. Only, it didn't. Not even a single damn thing. "I am the vampire King of Louisiana!" he pressed a moment later, a note of frustration evident in his high-pitched voice. I felt something simmer and burn within; Flaring hatred for the man. So, here he was, the King. The very man who wanted my blood. "And you, I know to be as one Miss. Sookie Stackhouse."

"Yes," I breathed, uncertainly.

"Well, judging by your less-than-thrilled demeanour, I assume it is safe to recognize that you don't know a single thing about me." He shook his head, looking stunned out of his wits. "Has no one told you about me? Do you... even know why I am here?"

Yes, you're here for my blood, I had a thought about retorting snarkily, but kept myself in check. I decided to play for dumb and unsuspecting instead. "No, I have no idea why you're here," I answered him stiffly. "Or what you'd even want from a girl like myself, no less. There's... nothing about me at all."

He threw his head back and laughed, loud and clear. There was a hard edge to it; A spooky, malicious edge that had my bones quaking.

"Now, do you mean to tell me... that there isn't any Faerie blood that runs within you whatsoever?" He eyed me coldly with doubt.

Again, I played for dumb. I leaned a bit closer, as if to hear him more clearly. "What blood? What did you just say 'bout little, old me?"

"Faerie blood, my girl." I blinked at him heavily, and it turned out I was quite the great actress. He tapped a bony set of purplish-fingers against his chin, contemplating me intently. "So... do you mean to tell me that you're highly unaware that you are the last living, breathing Faerie descendant on earth? Do you honestly... expect me to believe that?"

"I'm no... Faerie, or whatever it is that you just said I was." I laughed quietly to myself, only I was unsuccessful at making it all sound carefree and unperturbed. "Whoever told you that, they are sorely mistaken. I mean... I... I'm just your average fifteen-year-old girl. I'm no... Faerie."

"Interesting," he murmured musingly. "You have no idea, just what courses through your entire system, as we speak? Very intriguing. How-" Suddenly, a loud commotion from downstairs cut through his words.

There was a lot of talking going on downstairs. Jovial laughter. I think I about turned my head to my open bedroom door curiously at the same instance this Russell Edgington did. When I turned to eye him again nervously, I saw his eyes were glazed over. Distracted, even. And then, knocking the wind out of me, he sent an elbow knocking into mine. I think it was meant to be out of playful gaiety, really.

"Ooh, Mr. Compton has installed the Wii in the living room, I hear. How truly... delightful."

I gaped at him, startled. "He- he- What?"

This King vampire winked at me and leaned in to mutter into my ear confidentially, like we were the greatest of friends, "My dear Talbot is quite fond of playing the Wii. His mind is easily distracted, you see. Thankfully, the Wii takes his mind off me while I am gone on my duties, and keeps him satisfied in our marriage." Suddenly, there was a ripple of light-hearted cheers from downstairs. This bewildering Mr. Edgington cackled fondly to himself, then started muttering to me yet again underneath his breath, "Oh, that Mr. Northman. He's quite the character, isn't he?" Wistful fondness flickered in his eyes, and he tossed his head, full of benign astonishment. "How... accommodating he is, to play with my dear boy."

It took me a moment to swallow that down. Even then, I could feel the bile rising in my throat. What? Eric Northman was downstairs playing Wii with the King's other half? All the more reason to believe in how much of a rotten, stinking traitor he is. I could not believe him. At all!

"Say, Faerie Girl. Are you fond of playing the Wii?"

Now that was hardest of all to come to terms with. I stared at him, disbelieving. There was mischievousness in his eyes, blaring excitement burning in them. He's asking me, of all things, whether I like to play the Wii?

I decided then, maybe it wasn't so bad to play along with him. Instantly, Eric's words came to mind. He said he was trying to bide his time until the King's wishes fully came to fruition. Was this his way of doing that? I wondered. Well, fine then.

"Oh, yes." I forced a smile. "I love playing it."

"Ah. Then, play it, we shall." He rose to his feet and, alarming the heck outta me even more, he extended an arm out to me. I eyed him warily, before climbing to my feet and accepting. My head was whirling relentlessly. But just as I was hopelessly believing that just perhaps my cause wasn't so dire after all, he broke me out of that train of thought an instance later. "We will deal with you later," he said, with a clear note of quiet warning, steering me along with him. "What harm would there be done in engaging in a little frivolous activity, before the grand finale?"

My stomach bubbled with uneasiness, as we stepped down the winding staircase together. Soon as we rounded the corner, I was left flabbergasted by what I saw.

Eric Northman splayed out on the carpet of Gran's living room, Wii console in his hands, shirtless and looking out-of-place as all hell. This Talbot man was sitting on the couch, cross-legged with a console of his own, next to Mr. Compton, was who watching on between the pair like a willing spectator to a football match, smiling good-naturedly all the while.

I stiffened and unconsciously let loose a daunted gulp, when his beady eyes flickered to me once Mr. Edgington and I made our entrance. Eric's eyes flew up to me next, before turning back quickly to the small television screen of Gran's ancient T.V.

I felt my stomach clench up in anger over his carelessness. Did he even care at all? Well, clearly not, considering how invested he was in the game.

"Who is winning? My dear Talbot, or Mr. Northman?" Russell asked, his voice quivering in unrestrained exhilaration.

Geeze. Vampires sure did love their Wii games, that's for sure.

"No one as yet, good Sir," Mr. Compton said, with a hearty laugh that made my skin all prickly. "But I can assure you, I am keeping close eye on the pair of them. We don't want anyone cheating now, do we?" At that, his eyes flickered up to me again. He threw in a sickening, devious wink and a smirk at me for playful effect. "It would be... most unfair. Not to mention... unwise." Those eyes ran down my body very slowly, and obviously. I swallowed dryly.

God. He was too creepy for his own good! And poor, good-seeking Gran- she actually fell for it? Speaking of which- -

I forced myself to stare into Mr. Compton's eyes. "Where... where is my Gran?" I asked, unsteadily.

"Oh, I am sure you will find her around here somewhere if you truly look close enough, Sookie, sweetheart." That didn't make any sense to me one bit, and he sure had to know it right then.

I opened my mouth, near and fired to raise my voice at him for at least some comprehensible answer into where my Gran was at present, only Mr. Edgington bet me to it. "Quiet, girl. Can't you see that I am tryin' to watch my man's game?"

I fell silent after that, part of my own sense of self-preservation. Clearly, this Russell Edgington was not a man to be taken without heed.

I could feel Mr. Compton's eyes on me, digging holes into my face mercilessly. I felt like I so wanted to scream then. I wanted to yell for him to quit looking at me, like I was no more than a piece of art to look at, or... a piece of meat for him to feast his fangs on. Only, I couldn't. My eyes shifted over nervously to where he saw sitting comfortable on Gran's couch again and, sure enough, I was right. The fangs were out, sinking into his lower lip. Fang-boner, anyone? Nasty. Just downright nasty.

I was reduced to hanging by aimlessly like an obedient animal, while Talbot and Eric battled it out. Turned out Talbot had just the short-fused temper as his lover, because every time Eric got in a shot at the tennis match they were playing, he would rise up from his seat, shouting off foreign words from his tongue in another language I could not understand. All Eric did when he was subjected to a trail of muddled words that sounded oddly rude, was chuckle softly in amusement, like it bothered him no bit. At least Eric was fine with everything.

I wasn't. Not one bit.

Maybe he sensed that, because hardly a second later, he turned from the television screen to shoot a fleeting look into my direction. I didn't know how he knew, or sensed how restless I was feeling over everything, but somehow... I got the feeling he did.

"Revoke," he murmured a moment later casually 'neath his breath, completely out of the blue. It flew out of nowhere. It was like it was itching to escape his tongue all along and, when it did, I knew instantly it was directed at me, somehow.

I couldn't grasp any logical sense into that word at all. Until it instantly clicked in my mind, a moment later.

Oh, my god! Revoke! Revoke the invitation!

When it burst out from my lips, it was a forceful, desperate scream:

"I revoke the invitation to allow any vampires into my home!"

Almost at once, the game paused. Four shocked eyes glanced up at me. And then, staggeringly, everything seemed to move, fast-paced like a movie playing on fast-forward before my very own eyes.

Consoles dropped from fingers, and Mr. Compton looked like he was being dragged off the couch by an invisible force.

I recollected myself a moment later to finish it, soon as this Russell Edgington's arm unfurled from out of mine, as though I was a wasp that had just stung him brutally.

"Every single damn one of you! Now, all of you... get the fuck outta my Gran's house!" I saw the exasperation written all over Eric's face, when so suddenly, the tables were turned at an alarming rate.

The front door blew wide open, smacking a cold gust of air right into my overheated face, sending everything in the room rustling; The lace curtains by the window, Gran's page of her crossword book leafing around with the heavy breeze. Witnessing what happened for the vamps, was a hard one to absorb in; Suddenly, it was like they were metal being pulled to an unseen magnet- a magnet standing right outside the front porch.

Mr. Compton's pasty face was contorted in sheer anguish, when he staggered forwards. Mr Edgington's white-as-sheet face was twisted into mind-blowing rage, in direct contrast. Talbot was blowing out of the door like a mere sheet of weightless paper.

It was quite empowering, considering.

"I will get you, girl," he screamed at the top of his lungs, "Mark my words... I will-"

Eric was staring me down with those pitiful big eyes, and I knew then, what he was hinting at.

"My invitation stands for everyone but Eric Northman," I mumbled out shrilly in a breathless mouthful.

Those word's were everyone's undoing, the key to everything. I didn't know why it even took me so long to think of it, as the only solution to get these malicious vamps out of Gran's house. And, it was one not to be disregarded easily, especially not by any vampires.

Eric was calm as a summer's day, when he walked around me and slammed the door shut in the face of those three defeated vamps. Instantly, along with it, the room sliced into a calm, still silence. The Wii was left still plugged to the television and on-screen, unattended to.

Everything was fine. For now.

Until they chose to come for me again, that is. I didn't know how long a time I had until they would choose to come for me again, but at least... for now, I was free, and unharmed.

And Eric, well. He was much the same. Turned out, he was acting to protect me. He was honouring his pledge to me, and that felt a mighty lot to be thankful for.

Everything almost felt near to normal again. Aside from the fact my Gran was nowhere to be seen in the house.

Something was just not right. There had to be something funny going on here, a reason into why Gran was absent. She hardly ever left the house, usually. At least, not without reason.

And, once I returned inside after Eric left me to go deal with that naked Were, it was Mr. Compton who showed up first, not Gran.

It just didn't make any sense. Unless, Mr. Compton- - But no, I shook my head fiercely and deliberately pushed that notion aside. It hurt to even think such a thing.

Still, I had a bad feeling- a granddaughter's intuition perhaps- that shook and rattled me to the core.

Something was just not right in the realm of my grandmother. I could feel it in my bones.

Eric joined me a moment later, lingering at my side. And then, he sniffed loudly through his nostrils. I knew then that something wasn't right over my Gran's sudden and uncharacteristic disappearance, for real.

"Tiny." His voice came out deep and raspy, with hunger. "Why is it that I smell blood?"

"Well, it's not comin' from me," I whispered, in a disgracefully quivering, small voice.

"No shit. I've grown accustomed to the scent of your blood. And that... is definitely..." He let the sentence slip and die off his tongue, preoccupied.

I turned to glance over at him anxiously; He well and truly reminded me of a sniffer dog, with the way he held his head erect, his neck straining left to right, loudly sniffing out the odor around us once more.

It bothered me something shocking, I wasn't gonna lie. It made the whole situation over Gran's disappearance all the more foreboding in outcome.

"It's definitely coming from one of the other rooms."

With a firm chant of encouragement inside my head for myself to get myself together, I pushed gently forward on the soles of my feet, ready to start investigating. By the time I had reached the entrance of the hallway, one of Eric's large hands reached out to slide over mine, so that we were holding hands together. His long, cold fingers interlaced with mine, and I felt such bubbling shock then over it. I tried not to think too much of it. If anything, it relieved me, the small gesture alone. It made me mighty thankful to know then, either way, that we would be in this together, regardless of what the outcome with my Gran was. I pushed through the narrow hallway, dragging him along with me, neither one of us even daring to so much as speak a single word about anything.

I peeked through the kitchen to find the light was still on.

Something was definitely wrong, no if's or buts about it.

And, Eric confirmed my suspicions a second later, when he murmured underneath his breath, "Warmer."

Suddenly, soon as I stuck my head in through the entrance of the kitchen reluctantly, my nose was hit with a ghastly smell. I could even hear flies buzzing around. Something was definitely... dead in there.

I coughed and spluttered loudly into my free hand. I tried to make the feeble attempt at plugging my nose with my fingers, only it was no use. I felt vomit rise in my throat.

"Look for me, will you?" I murmured uneasily, not even daring to look up at Eric who was standing behind me, still as anything. "If it is her... I don't think I can much bear to see it."

He didn't answer; He simply squeezed my hand as if to reassure me, before brushing past me cautiously. I saw the way his head tilted to the side, and the way his eyes widened at the source of the foul smell, and then he released my hand slowly and turned back to look down at me.

There was something about the way he was looking at me, that didn't sit very well with me. There was a hard bleakness in his eyes, and I could tell he was gnashing his teeth together restlessly, in the ways the sides of his jaw twitched.

"Well?" I pressed forcefully, even though it wasn't really something I wanted to know. "Is it her? Is that why it smells so badly like rotting garbage in there?"

He just stared down at me in dead-silence, that expression never-changing.

"Eric." I pleaded with him mutely.

Still, he said nothing. His lips pressed together. Then, his hands slipped up to clutch me by the shoulders, holding me tightly. It seemed like he was comforting me, and I think I knew... I think I gathered as much, right then. He didn't even have to say a single, damn thing.

"How? Did he... did Mr. Compton-?" Oh, boy. I couldn't even bring myself to say it, let alone think such an unutterable thing!

He was reluctant to speak then. He sighed loudly, and shook me by the shoulders, I think with a little more vigour than he had intended for me, sending my teeth clattering loudly together. "You'd have to be truly naïve to think otherwise, Tiny." Unconditional despair cracked over his features. He was eyeing me carefully, both a bit afraid of how I would react to the news, as well as wary. "She's leaked... everywhere on the floor. Fuck, she even has two gaping bites in the side of her neck!"

Those words held enough detail in them, that it made the ordeal a girl's worst nightmare. Before I knew it, I was crying for Gran, louder and louder by the second.

"Tiny," he whispered apologetically.

He reached out to touch my face with those big hands of his and, without really meaning to, I recoiled right away from them, bursting into even more tears. Suffocating me, he embraced me into a super-tight hug, rubbing his hands all over my back. I surrendered into his arms at once, just because it felt good having someone hold me in times of need like this, and soon, I was weeping all over his shirt. I couldn't say I liked crying in front of him really, but it was the least of my concerns.

Gran. Dead. Mr. Compton had killed her, the creepy son of a bitch!

I think all dignity long since abandoned me, once his arms held me tightly to his hard chest. My cries turned into little, strangled animal-wails, and my tears turned into full-blown slobber drenching into the fabric of his shirt. He didn't seem disgusted or put-off by that one bit- my childish, unrestrained emotion- and, if he even had, he simply pushed it aside for the sake of comforting me. I took appreciative refuge by wrapping my arms in earnest around his waist, basking into his tight embrace, for what seemed hours and hours, until soon it almost felt as if my body was sticking permanently to his, like adhesive glue.

I didn't know how long we had stood there in the hallway, while he held me. But after what seemed a lifetime, his frantic shushes for me died down into an awkward silence, and then he was separating himself from me.

I was too out-of-it to even register properly what he was doing, when he grabbed me by the back of my thighs and hoisted me up into the air millimeters off the floor. I felt like such a little girl, when I flung my arms 'round his neck and let him carry me back out into the living room. I heard the loud plunk of Gran's crossword puzzle book and her ballpoint pen hitting the ground at his feet, when he shifted down and sat with me awkwardly on Gran's sofa. I tried to sit up, but clearly he didn't feel I was quite ready enough for that; He pushed my head down gently onto the side of his shoulder, and hushed me some more, going at it again with his hands rubbing all over my back and trembling shoulders soothingly. He stroked the side of my hair with his fingers and palms, he rested his chin on the top of my scalp.

I was thankful for it anyway. It gave me the chance to shield my face from him, and I was sure, right then in my frazzled, inconsolable state that I would have looked the lousy mess to him; My nose all running and most likely thick with bogey, and with my eyes feeling all puffy and definitely rimmed-red.

He held me on the sofa, and I never believed anything to be ever the more consoling and stress-less right about then.

It was nice, however long it had lasted. Because soon enough, an orange glow was beaming out through the lace curtains into the room. Quickly, it'd turned morning. And, when I stirred to look up at him with my wet eyes, he was already well and truly passed out, like a drunken man on Gran's sofa.

His eyes were pressed tightly shut and, if I hadn't known any better, I would have automatically assumed he were dead over how still he was, and how dead-to-the-world he appeared to be. If it were anyone other than him, I might have been thrown into a panic, when I took in the fact that not even a single breath was heard coming from him. Much less, not a single rapid undulation of his chest, while he breathed.

He was all ready dead. It wasn't really all the necessary for him to be breathing all that much. Still, it staggered me.

I stretched out my arms, extricated myself carefully from his arms, and flung myself off the sofa and onto the pads of my feet. I staggered a bit, until I slowly recovered feeling in my limbs, then started my way over to the bedding closet. I felt stiff all over, due to the awkward position he had held me in, for Lord knows how many hours, and when I reached up on my tippy-toes to clutch at four or five afghan blankets, my back cracked something horrible.

I shook the blankets out arduously, then returned to Eric's motionless, composed body, while he slept. I still couldn't get used to how quiet he was, how immobile, like a limp, dead corpse while he lay there. He had somehow drawn his arms up over his chest, as if protecting himself over an impending attack had it mysteriously occurred to him. His long legs were sprawled out against the floorboards, one ankle resting on top of the other.

I couldn't help the small, thankful smile that gathered across the corners of my mouth for him, while I stood there, innocently observing him. God, he looked so serene, so much younger, while he slept. Hell, if someone so happened to come across him here right then, while he slept, they wouldn't even have the slightest inkling whatsoever that he was a vamp. He looked almost... human. Alarmingly, steam started wafting from his ear lobes, like he was food starting to fry. I gasped, and then gathering my sense of urgency, I tossed the blankets over his head. With the last two, I took more caution to drape them over the entirety of his long legs and lap.

I stepped back a step to scrutinize my work carefully. There was no limb or piece of him out of hiding, so with a mental pat on my back for my efforts, I turned and left him there.

I hesitated by the kitchen, unsure of what I was going to see in there. Somehow, last night... I had forgotten all about Gran and, in some morbid sense, I felt this compulsion to head on in and check her body myself, just for my sense of well-needed closure that it were, in fact, her.

That she were well and truly dead, like Eric had said so.

Steeling myself with resolve, I entered cautiously through the opening. I was flabbergasted by what I saw, because... what I saw there, on the floor, was...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

No smear of blood, no Gran's dead body. Nothing. Not even a whiff of unpleasant, decaying smell. All that was there, was this lingering scent of bleach and cleaning product. I think I realized then, what had happened, and what the due cause of it all was.

Eric.

Perhaps while I fell into an exhausted sleep after crying my heart out on him, he found the moment to return back into the kitchen and clean up the mess for me?

If so, that was a real kind, and thoughtful thing of him to do. A completely unexpected thing, but appreciated, none the less.

And then, I felt the aching sadness cripple me yet again, along with the knowledge. Gran. Dead!

I knew if I got to crying again, it would have been even loud enough to wake the living dead, sending them wriggling over in their graves over the screeching sound of my sobs. Or, more aptly... the living dead in the other room sleeping soundless just at this minute.

Luckily, I felt too drained, both mentally and physically. So that ceased the cries in their wake at the back of my throat.

I felt dead on my toes. I felt all icky, and sweaty. I decided then to have a nice and long soothing shower. Or a bath, maybe. A bath seemed the more appealing idea I was grasping for, so I trod laboriously up the winding staircase towards the bathroom.

Everything about the house was unsettling at this early in the morning. There was no sounds to be heard of waking to Gran, while she slaved over the stove, cooking Jason and I a hearty breakfast. There was... nothing at all.

That hurt most of all.

I had taken Gran for granted, in more ways than one.

I plugged the bathtub and switched on the hot water. I turned back to close the bathroom door, then decided against it; It felt too lonely, too... scary. It brought me a bit of relief to know Eric was still downstairs. So, unrealistic as it was to happen, if someone so happened to grab me in the bathtub and pull me under, surely he would hear my sloshings in the water and screams first thing and come to my aid. It was way better to keep the door wide open, I decided stoutly.

I tore off my day-old, sticky clothes, then flung off my bra. I stepped out of my underwear, and turned to the running water in the bathtub. I stepped in casually, submerging my ankles in, and found it was just hot enough to bite at and redden my shins.

As I climbed in, I dipped my head under the running water, submerging my hair. I watched as it floated around my shoulder blades and breasts like a long, white blond nest. The warm water was doing wonders for the tension and heaviness weighing down my heart. Hours, was how long I decided I would stay huddled in the tub.

And, turned out, hours... it was. Soon enough, the water was chilly on my bare skin and I was shivering all over. I did not care, though. A dim, blue darkness soon slipped into the bathroom, but I couldn't even be bothered hopping out of the mild water to switch on the light. I just wanted to stay in there, forever and ever, and never have to resurface.

Only, like all wishful thoughts, they never turn out the way you'd expected them to.

A flash of color rippled past the door, rendering me unable to breathe and as stiff as a rock in caution. It took a bit for my eyesight to adjust, and when it did, I was left feeling as if I had been socked in the stomach and winded.

I screamed at the top of my lungs- an ear-splitting shriek in alarm- and hurried to cover my hands over my breasts, splashing water around the bathroom onto the tiled flooring. I squeezed my thighs tightly together, and prayed to God then that nothing indecent could be seen of me through the cool water.

Eric had somehow materialized at the side of the old tub. "Well, now. Isn't this the welcoming surprise to wake up to? A Tiny Stackhouse in a bathtub... utterly naked. And what a vision it is."

I gulped audibly. Then, somehow, had managed to regain use of my voice.

"Eric, excuse you!" My voice came out so high-pitched and flustered, it made the unthinkable situation ten million times more unbearable to endure. "Haven't you ever heard of privacy? Geeze!" I was too frightened to even make a move.

Turned out it dawned onto him a second later, just how inappropriate his behaviour was, because he had the heart to look a little bit flustered himself.

"Excuse me, you're right." He brought his bright and excited eyes away from my dripping-wet face, and then cleared his throat loudly. He raised his hands to rub at the sides of his temples, visibly anxious. It was... a little endearing, I must say. Hell, even Eric Northman got flustered. That was a surprise within itself. "That was incredibly rude, wasn't it? I'll just... wait outside for you to redress."

All I could manage, was a half-hearted "Thank you," before he did what he said at once. I slipped out of the bathtub, feeling extra strung-out with nerves over the full-blown awareness that he was standing just on the opposite side of the wall.

As I turned to pluck my bathrobe off the rack Gran had put it, I swear I heard him mumbling to himself; Something about Tiny not being as Tiny as he had first anticipated.

What the hell?