Chapter 42: Crimson and Clover

It felt like she was living a surreal dream, and quite frankly she wanted to wake the fuck up. She bound herself to a fucking vampire. What did Chow expect from owning her? Jesus fucking Christ. She had spent so much of her time and energy avoiding catastrophes - the IRS, DEA, FBI, the Vampire Authority, the Queen, Eric - that she forgot the one person who was an absolute master at wrecking everything on sight: herself. When it came to shattering her own life, no one could quite do it like her.

Olivia wasn't naturally an impulsive person. She calculated, planned, adjusted, and studied every possibility. She liked control, she needed it. It's why she made rules, it's why she kept so many walls around herself - so she could keep focus and control over her own life in order to achieve all her goals. At least it's what she told herself. But Liv wasn't used to being lied to; she wasn't familiar with being deceived and manipulated. That's what she did to other people when circumstances called for it, and when others tried to do it to her she could always see it coming a mile away. But not this time, no. This time she was goddamn fooled.

Olivia wasn't also stupid. She knew she was only so hurt by Eric because she thought - she hoped - she meant more to him, or at least that he thought a bit more of her. And there lied the fundamental flaw: Olivia had hopes. That was on her.

Another scary outcome of tonight was that Olivia was mentally ready to give herself away to Pamela. She had no idea who she was bringing into the office, she didn't think 3 seconds ahead. Olivia was ready to die tonight, at the hands of her own failures. But for better or worse, she was still kicking - and kicking herself for now having to deal with consequences of her damned unhinged decision.

Chow pulled up the Escalade by her house, and Olivia wasn't so sure how to proceed. What happened now? Was he going to use her as his personal blood fountain? Would he demand sex? Would he care about what she wanted at all? He couldn't hurt her, could he? Would he?

She wondered if Chow would have to face Eric later. Would the Viking even say anything? Would he punish Chow? Kill him? What happened to the edict of protection now? Could Eric buy Olivia from him? She wondered what the price on her own head would be. The Sheriff had bought an entire apartment building just so he could sneak up on her whenever he wanted, so buying her off him would not be that far of a stretch.

The vampire turned and looked at her, dark eyes gleaming in the night. "I have to go back to work now."

It took her a moment to realize this was her cue to get out of the car. "Oh, okay."

"I don't work tomorrow, can I come see you then?" He asked, hopeful.

Olivia hadn't really thought much of life after tonight. Even the flights she had booked earlier now seemed completely absurd. As if she could go to her cousin's stupid birthday party. Was she nuts?! Also what grown adult even threw birthday parties anymore?

No, no, no. It was near the end of the third quarter, she had financial statements to prepare for the end-of-year Curia Regis. That, and she had to deal with the bullshit pile of papers in her lap. "I have to do some off-site work tomorrow night, but you can tag along if you like."

Olivia decided it would be best to avoid being alone with him behind closed doors for as long as she could, or at least until she knew him better. He nodded in agreement. Also, having Chow there while she paid Anthony Grey a visit could be very useful. Grabbing her stuff, she stepped out of the Escalade, minding the huge drop. This car was excessively large. But before she let her vampire go, she had just one more question. He was the head of security of the Northman enterprises after all.

"Chow, why does Eric have me under constant surveillance?"

He dodged. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Because all he does is lie to me," that came out real sour. "Who watches me at night? And from where?"

Chow hesitated to answer. Her mind followed the natural instinct to listen to his thoughts, but what she got wasn't a brainwave or the usual vampirical void. She could feel him; she could feel his tension. He didn't want to confront Eric. It was strange having access to a vampire. Olivia wondered if Chow could also feel what she felt, which was fear sprinkled with regret. Maybe a bit more than a sprinkle.

"We take turns. I like sitting on your neighbor's magnolia tree," he said simply.

"Who's we?"

His neck stiffened. He wasn't allowed to say. "I must go."

She nodded, disappointed. She may be Chow's, but he was very much Eric's. Before Liv closed the door, Chow had one more parting word. "Am I going to regret this?"

"Probably."

There was no doubt in her mind he was. She just hoped it wouldn't be with his life.

You'd think that a thousand years on Earth would make a person know everything. Eric had certainly seen a lot, learned a lot, done a lot, fucked plenty, and felt both more pain and more pleasure than most creatures that have ever lived and died. He now sat alone on the rooftop of her garage, as he had done dozens of nights by now, quietly observing the night. He watched the dark window of the room where she slept while deep in thought. He was trying to put the puzzle together the broken pieces of tonight in a way that felt ever so slightly enlightening, and perhaps a little less heartbreaking as to why she did what she did.

He had gotten so close to actually getting her, and he lost everything. They had had awesome and wild sex, but any two idiots can do that. Having a blood bond was actually meaningful and significant, and even Olivia seemed to know that. She was right there, right at his fingertips.

Even though she lied asleep 20 feet away, she was furthest she had ever been.

He was so unbelievably fucking angry, and he had nowhere to put it. He had nothing to destroy, nothing to lash out on, no one to punish but himself. Sure he could do the mental gymnastics to blame her, or Chow, or Pamela, or even Sophie-Anne but the truth was a horse-sized, overwhelmingly bitter pill to swallow: it had been his fault. He drove her to do it.

Olivia made it clear he had to earn not only her blood but her heart - and he thought he could cheat it. He pushed her buttons like a toy, played her like a fun sexy game, and lost. Now they were both hurt and broken.

Eric wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, see anybody and certainly not fight with anyone else for a long time. Protecting Olivia was the littlest shred of joyful purpose he found in the past few months and he wasn't quite ready to give that up. Not yet. So he remained perched on the little roof of her garage like a dark gargoyle; her house was his cathedral.

The small building sat on the very corner of her small lot which took about a third of her backyard. There was the driveway leading from the garage door all the way to the street, a sizable deck a small patch of plain grass. All her next-door neighbors had old large trees growing right next to her tall wooden fence, their massive branches overhanging. From above, you could barely make out where their yards started and ended.

The world around him had grown too, much louder and decidedly less kind since he became Sheriff. He could hear the AC of her house running, police and ambulance sirens in the distance, drunken voices shouting a few blocks over, and mufflers of cars racing through the vast empty streets of Shreveport. Just another usual late summer Friday night.

From here he could look into Olivia's kitchen and bedroom. All the lights were off, her bedroom curtains were drawn shut. He could also see the small attic vent of his own little secret daytime bedroom peeking from under the roof. The whole house was dark and silent, other than the air conditioning humming.

He wondered if she was even here. Had he been staring at an empty house? If she was inside, was she with the vampire who owned her? Did he sleep in his bed or hers?

Eric tried to distract himself with something else, not bearing going down that rabbit hole much further. The news that Godric had come should have lifted his spirits, but in the past few centuries (and certainly in the past few months) any interaction with his Maker had been filled with resentment and unspoken regrets. Until sunrise, Eric just wanted peace.

He had really fucked this. He thought he was doing the right thing, protecting her at all costs, keeping her alive. It's what she had wanted, wasn't it? Why couldn't she see that? Why did the truth matter so much?

Because she wasn't a fucking idiot, that's why. She wasn't a young doe-eyed girl who was dying to have his attention and affection in order to feel special and validated. Olivia was a grown, successful, intelligent, and remarkable woman. She was a hell of a lot more than he had bargained for.

Because the world seemed to enjoy pestering Eric, he suddenly found himself no longer alone. A shadow moved closer, interrupting his peaceful misery. A shadow he would never be able to escape; a shadow that had renounced him, but it still ran in his veins; a shadow that would forever be part of his flesh and blood.

"Pamela told me you'd be here," his Maker's voice interrupted the Shreveport nighttime orchestra.

Eric said nothing at this. He knew he could never turn Godric away, not after longing for his presence for centuries. He crouched next to him, his short legs merely dangling over the garage door.

"It seems that a lot has happened since last I've seen you."

He wasn't buying this small talk. "A lot always happens between every time I see you."

"True," Godric nodded. "But I would like to think the discovery of a fairy is always a special occasion."

Eric stared at the boy who had shaped him into a man. He knew Pamela wouldn't have told him; her allegiance did not lie with Godric, and she would never betray him like this. Godric seemed to (ironically) have read his mind.

"I knew the second she came to my cell at the Fellowship," his Maker explained. "If you ever tasted a fae, their scent is not something you forget."

"You've had a fairy?"

"I've had many."

They had spent 700 years together and not once had Godric ever mentioned ever drinking from a fairy. Sometimes he swore it was as if he loved a complete stranger. "When?"

"Far before I met you. I'm afraid vampires like me were taken into consideration when Niall Brigant decided to leave and seal the portals."

Eric had always heard it was humans who drove them away. The fairy prince decided the influence of the fae was bad for humanity - or the opposite, who's to say? He recalled every fae creature back to the old country and locked the doors behind them.

"Well, he clearly didn't care for the halflings they left behind."

"No, he did not," Godric agreed. "Most of the ones left were hunted and drained to the last drop. The smart few fled North."

A long silence followed. Vampires very seldom lived in the Northern regions. Food was scarce, and it was too difficult to integrate into the small villages without being immediately discovered, hunted, and killed. When the Inuit people and other Arctic aboriginal nations learned how to spot a vampire from a mile away, everyone knew better to stay away. If that's where the last fairies went, they were smart to do so.

"Have you discovered her fairy talent?"

"I suspect she can read minds. Human ones, at least."

"Ah," Godric raised his brows. "That must be awful."

Eric had never really thought about it. Olivia could read minds. It must be exhausting knowing every shitty little thought everyone around you always had. Hearing every secret, every insecurity, and every impulse of everyone you've ever met. What people thought of you; what people thought of everyone and everything. He could understand why Olivia would want to be around vampires. A little slice of silence was probably heaven for her - and he had spent so long making it hell.

He waited for his Maker to remind him that he did not need to be here, keeping watch of the human who now belonged to someone else. He wanted Godric to tell him to let her go, to command him to leave, to ease his mind and heart from suffering, even if for a little bit. He did not.

"Back when the portals were open, I've spent countless nights hunting them for sport," Godric continued suddenly. "They are tricky creatures to catch which only made the thrill of the chase more addicting. Then, one night I finally found my match. I think her name was Claudette. She was stunning, intelligent, feisty, you'd have liked her," Eric had no idea where this story was going, all he knew was this was the longest conversation they had in 300 years. "She was tall, with deep chocolate brown hair and ocean blue eyes, like yours. I spent almost a year chasing her across the Tang Empire."

He could only have imagined such a creature who was able to escape his Maker's hunger for so long.

"I grew so obsessed with having her that I decided to keep her," Godric did not blink once while telling this story. But he could tell from the tone of his voice that this tale did not have the happy ending he was hoping for. "When I caught her, I proudly took her blood and gave her mine, and I said the words that bound us together full of pride. I remember being so ecstatic about my own accomplishments. I, Godric, was the first vampire who not only had the self-restraint to not immediately drain a fairy, but I bound her. I became her master."

It is true that all ancient and powerful vampires have heard of the great Godric. He was known for his incredible speed, strength, and wisdom, but not for this. Not even his own child knew of his most successful bounty. It gave him a bad feeling.

"Do you know what happens when you trap a fairy, my childe?" His Maker asked, changing tones. The sparkle in his eyes was gone.

Eric waited for his answer with great anticipation. It is all he ever wanted to know.

"She dies," he said simply. "In a matter of days Claudette lost her powers, then her spark faded, her blood turned sour and before either of us knew what was going on, her heartbeat stopped. I tried healing her, I even tried turning her. She did not rise."

The pain inside him turned darker, heavier. The point of this tale was to be a cautionary one. He scoffed, irritated. Out of all the bullshit he had to endure this whole fucking week, one of Godric life lessons was the last fucking thing he wanted. His Maker may think he knows a lot, but he did not know everything. And he certainly didn't know shit about Olivia. How could he? He wasn't here. He hadn't been by his side for a very long fucking time, so who was he to judge how Eric handled her?

"Don't be so dramatic, the doctor told me she's so watered down she's barely fae."

"I think she's fae enough to have the instinct to preserve her freedom."

"Okay," he agreed defensively. "And how do you explain her belonging to Chow Lin? She gave herself away like it meant fucking nothing."

Eric shook his head. He refused to believe it was impossible to own her when he watched Olivia give herself away so easily. She even made him watch. The memory would haunt him forever.

Deep down he knew the moral of the story was that Olivia would only be his if she wanted to be. But that would require him to admit that she didn't want to, even after everything they've been through; that she would rather be a complete stranger's than to belong to him; that he could not ever earn her, that he was and always would be undeserving of her and her love. And that truth was far too excruciating to hold on to.

He did not have it in him to explain all of that to someone who honestly, did not seem to care too much about him these days. And he certainly did not have it in him to have another fight with Godric. "What are you even doing here? The King of Texas sent you to buy more cattle?"

"I have come to say goodbye," Godric looked up at the moon. "I'm leaving Area 9 becoming a Chancellor at the Authority."

He took a good fucking look at his Maker, looking completely appalled at the absurdity of the words that came out of his mouth. To be a Chancellor at the Authority is to have a seat at the biggest table in the world. They steered and shaped the world in the image they wanted. The corrupted government, incited coups, encouraged militias, manipulated elections. Only ancient and powerful vampires with no living Makers could be offered a seat at the table, and Godric had killed his sadistic fuck of a Maker long, long ago. It also meant renouncing all ties with all their progenies due to "conflict of interest". Godric had already released Eric centuries ago, but this meant he could not even acknowledge knowing him at all. A thousand years existing on this Earth together, and it was now reduced to nothing.

He felt sick to his stomach. "You despise the Authority-"

"No, you despise the Authority."

"I cannot fucking believe this," Eric snarled. So much for not fighting. "After everything they have done, you are going to join them?! There are more dignified ways of cutting your own balls off."

Eric grew angrier by the second, reaching unprecedented levels of rage. It's like the world was finding out new methods to torment him tonight. They were all working.

"I disapprove of their methods as much as you do, Eric. But I believe I can make a significant change to the organization from the inside, I can make them better-"

"Yeah, and the road to hell is paved with good intentions," Eric said, slipping down the roof and hovering mid-air. He could not take this anymore. "Everyone who joins the Authority 'wants to make things better' but they only make it better for themselves."

"You don't think I can do it?" Godric asked, surprised. "You don't think I can make them better?"

"The Authority making anything better would be a first. I mean look at me, doomed to be Sheriff to this backwater swamp for fucking eternity just because my crime was to love someone they couldn't use."

And they tried to pull this again just recently. If it hadn't been for Olivia's Casino deal, he would have been forced to date, propose and marry Willa Burell just to secure a future pro-vampire Senate seat. Who the fuck was anyone to tell him who he could or could not have?

"Eric, you've been treated unfairly-"

No. He refused to be pitied. "Just go, Godric," he growled at his Maker. "And don't come back this time."

Eric focused on the bedroom window as if it were the last thing on earth. As if her beautiful face would appear between the curtains, as if her hands would open the panels and her voice would call out his name. He just wanted her to say his name without hating him. At that very moment, it was a dream as far-fetched as them exchanging vows on a beach.

His Maker stood up quietly, but Eric refused to look at him again, knowing it would be the last time they would see each other for good. It would make it real. Godric would become just like those disgusting weasels that had put him here. Their heads were so far up their asses that they thought bastardizing blood would make vampires vegan, or that Nan Flanagan was palatable and insightful to the masses. When his Maker became a shadow for its final time, Eric buried his face into his knees so the moon wouldn't see him cry.

He stayed there alone, crimson tears running on his white face on that little roof until the horizon started to brighten. He felt the sunrise in his bones, the wrongness of the day awakening warning him. It was time to fly home and let the day crew take over the watch.

Eric knew this should be the last time he ever watched her house. He knew Chow's request was an impossible suicide mission that would start Vampire World War Six. He had no option but to let her go.

But how do you let go of someone you never had?

In the dark loneliness of her bedroom, Olivia cried again. It was as if her body had remembered how to do it, now it was all it wanted to do. After her pillow absorbed all her pain, and her walls contained all her sadness, she drifted into a turbulent and restless sleep. She had terrible nightmares about her father. In her dreams, he had come to visit her in this very house, and he was so, so mad at her. He stitched her hand and bandaged it tightly giving her the sermon of a lifetime out loud. Growing up that's when she knew she majorly really fucked up - when her father scolded her with real words and not thoughts. In a strange bout of luck, she could not remember what he was mad at her for and she was for sure grateful for it.

When she got up at 11 AM she was just about as tired as when she went to bed. She looked at herself in the mirror and almost panicked - she looked like absolute shit. Mascara smeared everywhere, her hair was dull and matted and her face looked like it had an allergic reaction to tears. Olivia had to get a bag of frozen peas for her puffy face. Crying was not a good look on her. Twelve years without it and she could only hope to be good for the next twelve.

The cut on her hand hurt, but it hurt more looking at it. To numb the pain, she sulked into her office and started work right away. It was the one thing she had always been good at, and she needed to feel good, useful, and in control right now. Luckily, she had plenty to do to keep her busy today. As she was dissecting the Grey portfolio, she realized she had her work cut out for her. To say the whole thing was a fucking mess would be an understatement. Incomplete forms, bullshit contracts, incorrect documents, nothing was notarized properly - just the thought of tainting her perfect work with this fucking vile set of acquisitions was disheartening.

Here was the cost of failing at her job: having to manipulate fucking massage parlor receipts. Massage parlor receipts! With these prices, everyone was getting a happy ending. Jesus fuck- she might as well send the IRS e-vites. It would take a fucking miracle if they didn't get audited. Even a hungover summer intern could spot the red flags on these forms.

Her phone rang, an unusual thing for a Saturday. "Hello?"

"Olivia Carson?" Asked a feminine voice she did not recognize, from a number she did not know.

"Yes?"

"Hold for the Governor of Louisiana." Then there was a loud click.

The Governor? Her jaw fucking dropped. She had spoken with Truman Burrell before, twice by now, but it didn't hit her until now the heaviness of who and what he was until she heard those little words on the phone.

"Olivia Carson?" The familiar voice asked. It was Burrell alright.

"Good morning Governor," she said, a bit too smug. She knew what this call was about. "How are you liking the new office?"

"It's fine," he snapped. "I want our deal to be done and our relationship to be over as soon as possible."

But we were having so much fun - "I'm glad to hear that."

"I spoke with my contact at the DEA, and I will send the gaming commissioner down to Shreveport on Monday morning."

"Make it Monday evening," she reminded him. "I'll send you the address."

"And he will leave my Willa alone?" She could tell this was a call done alone behind closed doors. The desperation in his voice made her stomach sunk.

"I'll do you one better. She will never be courted, harassed, bitten, kidnapped, killed, or turned by any vampire in Area 5."

"Area five?"

Right, common people didn't know vampire geography or politics. "Northern Louisiana, anywhere north of Mansfield."

There was a long heavy pause on the line. "How do you sleep at night having the power of making these kinds of promises?"

Why was everyone so worried about the quality of her sleep lately? She had slept like shit, but that was... Mostly unrelated.

She knew what he was getting at. Yes, blackmailing a father using the livelihood and well-being of his only daughter was a shitty and evil thing to do. But he was a politician for fuck's sake, are we really going to waste air defending these self-serving pricks? Burrell wasn't an idiot, he knew damn well what it meant to take vampire money for his campaign. He whored himself out to the interests of the highest bidder, just like they all do. But instead of it being oil corporations, telecommunication lobbyists, or scummy millionaire CEOs, vampires put him on the ticket and he now acted the blameless victim.

"How do you sleep at night knowing it wasn't the American people who put you in office?"

Boom! Right in the democracy. Her stomach went right back where it belonged. There was another click on the line and his receptionist took over the call. Guess Burrell had nothing else to say.

They arranged for the gaming commissioner to come by Monday evening at the Northman residence at 8 PM, while Eric would be busy doing Sherriff things at Fangtasia. Olivia sent Pam a text right away, telling her they should meet beforehand and go over the business plan she had outlined. A meeting she hoped did not include Eric, but she would have to be emotionally ready for him to be there. At that thought, she dove into work some more.

As the sun was setting, and Olivia was still buried 11 feet deep in a pile of work, an unusual ringing sound came from a box under her desk. It took her a moment to realize it was her burner phone - the one she used to contact Lafayette Reynolds and him only. It was a day for strange phone calls apparently.

"Hello?" She scrambled quickly, her heart already racing.

"Do you gots any hoe outfits?" He asked bluntly.

Her shoulders relaxed. She had told him to call her for business only, but she was grateful this wasn't more work or more problems. Just a fashion emergency? "Why? Do you want to borrow some?"

"Bitch don't sass me, ya gots a hoe outfit or nah?"

"Uh… Yes? I guess?" Doesn't everyone?

"Perfect! Get yo fine ass down here tonight. I'm throwin' a party and it's goin' to be litty like a titty."

Olivia had about 47 reasons why she should not be going to a party tonight. About 23 were under the category of going to a party at one of Louisiana's biggest drug dealer's house, 13 of them were spread around the huge pile of work on her desk, 8 reasons would probably be at the party, and 3 were just common fucking sense. However-

"I'll be there."

What was the point of being alive, if she can't fucking enjoy it? Plus if last night had gone according to plan, she would have been 15 shades of hungover right now after drinking the entire bourbon street. She owed the universe one night of messy fun for being fucking alive! Plus Lafayette was just fucking fun, okay? He had that infectious energy that just made you feel good. And Olivia was due to feeling something just plain good since the last thing that made her feel good came at a costly, costly price.

Look at her life. What's the worst that could happen?

She stared at the two outfits splayed out on the bed. It was Sophie's choice: a dress for her business meeting with Anthony Grey, or the after-party in a drug dealer's den in the middle of the woods where the dress code was only defined as "hoe casual". A below-knee chocolate satin strappy dress versus denim booty shorts and a white tube top with a chunky heel and hoop earrings. How to choose?

Was there a third option that was a happy medium? Maybe in Pamela's 300 square foot closet which was borderline a clothing archive, but not in this one. So Olivia opted for a mid-evening outfit change. She would hopefully get to Lafayette's early enough in the night that she could discreetly slip into his bathroom and get changed without sticking out like a fancy and polished thumb in her Roberto Cavalli slip dress.

She did her make-up - a soft smokey eye, peach blush, and matching lip gloss and curled her hair on the floor of her living room while watching reruns of the second season of The Ashlee Simpson Show. In her humble opinion, this was the peak of American television.

Sometime long after her pinned curls cooled down, she got a text. It was from a number she didn't recognize, but all it said was "here". Stretching her neck, she spied the absolute unit of an Escalade parked out front. Devastated she didn't have a PVR to record the rest of the episode, she turned the TV off. She grabbed her large purse (which contained her second outfit and her business papers), put her shoes on, and took all the bobby pins out of her hair as quickly as possible, tossing them in the catch-all dish on top of the entryway sideboard, though she dropped about a third of them all over the floor. A problem for later!

Liv locked the door and scurried to the idle car in the middle of the street, where she could see Chow on the driver's seat. Was it still polite to sit in the backseat? He wasn't just her chauffeur anymore… Trying not to overthink this, she opened the backdoor and slipped inside, tossing her huge purse in next to her. She was going to keep her plan of maintaining her distance for as long as possible until she knew these waters better (while also preparing for these waters to get to know her whether she wanted to or not).

"Where to?" Chow asked, not seeming to mind role-playing her taxi driver.

"Soap Opera Dry Cleaners," she told him, buckling her seatbelt.

His face went blank, but she could tell he was glaring through the rearview mirror. "Anthony Grey?"

"Not my choice of business partner either."

Chow stared at her for a moment longer and then his eyes went back to the road and didn't look back once. They drove in awkward heavy silence all the way, passing Fangtasia which was just about to open. There were already cars parked out front, but Olivia didn't want to think about the club, or Eric tonight. It made her heart heavy still.

So instead, Olivia tried to get a read on Chow's… Not mind, but whatever it was that she could read. It felt dark and uncomfortable like she was catching glimpses of something not meant for her to see. She wanted to ask him why he fought Pamela at the office, and what exactly he wanted with her. Was it sex? Because it was hard to imagine someone this good-looking having such an awkward pick-up game.

Was it just blood? The only game he needed for that was to get her alone and pin her down. Olivia gulped. She hoped he would at least ask. Unless he… You know… Enjoyed the struggle. Her heart started beating faster - she really regretted not buying that wooden stake now.

"Anthony Grey is all bark and no bite," Chow said out of the blue. "You don't have to worry about him."

She got caught off-guard for a moment. Olivia didn't know if he could tell she was afraid due to her body language, heartbeat or their blood bond, but she kind of liked that he tried to soothe her worries. It was also sweet that Chow thought she was afraid of Anthony and not him. Only someone who meant you no harm would think that. On the other hand, she wasn't used to being read like a book. That was her thing.

"And I'll be there," he added. "He's cocky but not insane."

Olivia nodded, showing she understood, but actually she really didn't want to know what he meant by that. Regardless, she was reassured by his words. Out of all the vampires in that club that could have been with Pamela, she could have done a lot worse.

Chow parked in the small alleyway behind the dry cleaners. He seemed to have a thing for inconspicuous entrances. The only other car back here was a bright red Dodge Viper with the tacky white racing stripes with a novelty plate that read F4NGS. Dear Lord, Anthony Grey was a douchebag.

Olivia took out the dust bag with her change of clothes out of the purse and left it in the back seat, so she would just bring the business folders inside with her. Chow opened the car door and extended his hand to help her exit. He was wearing an all-black ensemble: (sadly) a crew neck tee, cotton jacket, denim jeans, and boots. His hair was half tied in a low bun, and the only color on him were the tattoos on his neck and hands - small accents of red, green, and blue. She took his cold soft hand and stepped out of the car, feeling butterflies everywhere.

He looked dangerous, yet delicious. In terms of bringing a guy home to meet the family, Chow was the worst nightmare for all suburban white mothers everywhere. He also opened the back door of Soap Opera Dry Cleaners (what a terrible, terrible name) and let her inside. All this chivalry was making her feel expensive and spoiled.

Inside the dry cleaners looked like a movie set where criminals conducted… Well, crimes. The fluorescent lighting was almost green, it was so unnatural. The floor was painted concrete, all worn in the middle of the passageways. The bits and pieces of furniture were dated, maybe from the 80s; some industrial sewing machines, a cabinet filled with a multitude of different colored spools, and jars of buttons, rolls of zippers. Hanging from the ceiling was of course the classic carousel of plastic-encased clothing, going from the back all the way to the front, snaking back and forth. The whole place smelled like chemical soap, vampires were lucky they didn't have to breathe it in.

There was no one in the back, but they could hear TV faintly playing near the front of the store where Olivia could pick up a very bored human brain signal. Just around the corner, she could see a man in a small fishbowl office, watching a baseball game on an old tiny tube television. There were posters of baseball players hanging on the wall too. It reminded her of Longshadow - what was up with vampires and baseball?

Chow nodded to the office indicating that the man was indeed Anthony Grey. Olivia wasn't going to go undercover for this one. Eric made all vampires spend time at Fangtasia back when it was a tourist attraction (hard to sell the vampire bar experience if there are no vampires present), so the chances that Grey had seen Olivia around were way more than zero. First impressions were very important, and she needed to establish the rules now that Anthony had now joined Team Northman.

She knocked on the door's glass window politely before entering, and when Anthony swiveled his chair around he looked at her head to toe with great distaste. He already didn't like her. He then nodded at Chow who stood quietly in the corner of the room, holding his hands in front of his hips, not touching anything. When Chow didn't speak, he turned to Olivia who stood right in front of him, across his messy desk. The whole office was stuffed with more memorabilia worth far more than dusty paper in this place.

"What do you want?" He gruffed. Anthony had the voice of a man in his 70s, even though he looked to be no older than 40.

"Good evening, Mr. Grey. I'm the accountant," Olivia spoke loud and clear, head high, confidence higher.

"So you can fuck off then."

Anthony turned back around to watch his stupid baseball game, which judging by the video quality of it it was from the 90s, it wasn't even a live game. Olivia stared the man down, taking a deep breath. He looked like any greasy Joe Blow in New Jersey, actually. Over gelled dark hair, gold chain necklace, cheap polyester ill-fitting white button-up, and pressed dark slacks. If it wasn't for the corpse-tinted skin, he would have looked like a guest at an Italian wedding or something.

"I'm Eric Northman's accountant, Olivia Carson."

He gave her the side-eye. "Okay, and?"

"I need you to sign these release papers," she reached into her purse and pulled out stack number 1 of 4.

"Release of what?" He grumbled.

"Fiduciary power," she loved that word. "It means I am your accountant now, and I can make financial decisions on your behalf during the daytime."

Anthony looked at her as if she had called his mother a whore. "I don't fuckin' think so, I've always done my own books. Plus I ain't handing anything over to a breather, little lady."

Excuse me-

"It's Olivia Carson to you," she said, trying not to clench her jaw. "And the amount of money now moving through your account is eight times your best fiscal year, and to be quite frank I've seen your work."

"And?"

"It's not up to my standards." And that was being polite.

"Oh, you think you're better than me?" He stood up now. He was not a tall man. "You got any idea how old I am? I've been doing this shit longer than your grandma's been wearing diapers the first time around."

Olivia opened the folder on his desk and aggressively put a pen over it, motioning him to sign on the bottom line. This had gone much easier with Eric. "My grandma can launder money better than you, and she's fucking illiterate. Now sign please."

It's true, her father's mother never went to school - rest in peace grand mudder Mary. Anthony growled at her, but Olivia did not move or budge. All bark no bite. There was a small click in the corner of the room where Chow was standing. Olivia didn't have to turn and look to know his fangs were out and immediately caused Grey to reconsider. She waved the pen in front of his face and he begrudgingly signed. Okay, that was the easy part.

Olivia pulled out stacks 2 through 4 from her bag and tossed them on his desk. "Non-disclosure agreement, your payout contract, and acquisitions."

"Non-disclosure? You think I'm a fuckin' snitch? Eric tells me to do something, I do it."

She was losing her patience which was very little to begin with. "This is me telling you to do something, Mr. Grey, and I highly suggest you do it."

He ruffled the papers as if they were literally painful to touch. Olivia never really knew if vampires were fast readers or just didn't care enough to actually read documents. "I'm not signing this shit, it says 1.5% payout when we agreed on 5. You think I'm fucking stupid? I'm not getting my hands dirty for that kind of payment."

Olivia obviously wasn't there when they made this insanely dirty deal, but Eric had drafted this contract himself. So she could only assume this asshole was trying to pull the wool over her fucking eyes and getting a bigger cut. Hell to the fucking no. Eric may be a lot of things, but being careless wasn't one of them.

She smiled over-sweetly as she twisted the knife. "If your hands are clean whatsoever Mr. Grey, it is only because your whorehouse does manicures."

"Who the fuck do you think you are, you fucking cunt?" He raised his voice.

Olivia felt like screaming, but she had to push her wrath down into a deep place. Alright, alright. So he wants to be nasty? That's fine. Olivia remained cool and calm. It was time to end this nonsense. "Okay, let's try this again."

She wandered quietly around the room, studying his wall of knick-knacks, ignoring him completely. Anthony Grey kept skimming the pages of the contract, scoffing at it.

"No fucken' way. Are you retarded? No one in their right fucking head would ever sign this bullshit. Change it to what we've agreed and I'll do it. Call the Sheriff if you want, but tell him I won't get out of my coffin for less than 4% of what I clean."

Olivia however, was long done negotiating with this asshole. "Big baseball fan, huh?"

Anthony frowned at her and then went back to the papers. Yes, this was an incredibly ludicrous and completely one-sided business deal, and Grey was getting the very end short of the stick by assuming a ton of risk for very little reward. But this was not Olivia's deal, it was Eric's - which meant the Viking had something on Anthony to make him agree to do this in the first place. She did not know or care what it was, but she may have to remind Anthony that she was here on behalf of the Louisiana Sheriff of Area 5, and an offense to her… Was an offense to him. And even though he was the last person she wanted to see right now, he was still her client and she was still loyal to him.

On a shorter display cabinet, propped up on custom bases were a collection of 6 or 7 baseball bats. She took a black one, thinking of her short softball career in the summers during college, Olivia played left outfield and was terrible at it, she just joined to get the Tuesday night chicken wing discount at her favorite diner. She could feel Grey's eyes boring holes on her, unhappy her warm and greasy human hands were touching his precious collectibles.

"I always wondered what the difference between wood and aluminum bats was. I mean, the aluminum is lighter for sure and the barrel is definitely bigger, but only ever used wooden ones-"

But there were bigger things bothering him. "Are you even listening, sugar tits? I am not signing any of this shit until you change these numbers."

In a completely unhinged smile, she asked. "Let's try it out shall we?"

Olivia walked out of the office, an empty purse in one hand and a bat in the other. She headed straight out the back emergency exit and into the alley. She didn't have to look back to know that Anthony and Chow were at her heel. She gently put her purse on the hood of the Escalade and walked around to the Dodge Viper parked right in front of it. Swinging the bat, she took out his left side mirror which came off satisfyingly easily.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Anthony hissed through his fangs, ready to lunge.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Grey," Chow reminded him, not moving an inch.

When Olivia looked at the scummy little vampire again, she wasn't smiling anymore.

"You cannot be serious!" Anthony cried.

"Sign the fucking papers," Olivia said firmly.

"Cleaning that much money is like cutting my legs off at the knees! I have no room to expand profits or clean my own shit-"

Olivia put the end of the bat through the driver's window, making glass rain all over the leather seats. Anthony Grey threw his hands up in desperation as if he were watching her beat his child. Again, she had yet to meet a man who wasn't hurt through his wallet.

"Okay! Okay! Make it a full 2% then, I'll take-"

He still didn't get it. Olivia took a deep breath and two steps forward trying to avoid rolling her high heels over the broken glass. She planted her right foot firmly on the hood of the car and stood up on it, then stepped over onto the roof. Her heels screeched against the metal as she climbed. Luckily this car wasn't a tall SUV.

"Nooo!" Grey cried out, cringing at her heels scratching the paint.

She then let all hell break loose - she started swinging down as if she was chopping wood with an axe - windshield, passenger window, the roof itself, the A-frame, the top of the trunk. The body of the car crumpled, cracked, and crushed loudly under the impact of her rage - and she had a lot of it pent up inside. The car alarm started screaming and the lights flashing as if it were begging for mercy, but she did not stop. Destroying this fucking car was cathartic and its cry for help was music to her ears. It was like destroying all her failures, all her disappointments, all her heartaches.

"Fucking stop her!" Anthony ordered Chow.

"Hmm… No." He answered amused. Chow stood still holding hands in front of his hips, watching the shitshow.

Grey stormed inside, running as if there were a fire and he had the only extinguisher. But Olivia didn't stop - she took out some repressed feelings on this tacky-ass car. She was pissed at Eric, she was pissed at the Queen, she was pissed at herself. No one was going to fool her ever again. No one was going to question her authority or disrespect her without regretting it.

Glass cracked and broke out like small explosions of crystals, like fireworks ricocheting off the bat. The car became increasingly more distorted with each blow. She gently crouched down and hopped onto the ground with care. One misstep and she would cut herself on the shards of glass covering the pavement and then - she'd be toast for sure. But it was a fleeting worry; once she stuck the landing she resumed destroying and smashing, leaving no corner unharmed. The tire rims, the bumpers, headlights, taillights, door handles, the side skirt on the driver's side actually came right off. Had she known destroying stuff was so fucking fun, she would have beaten the shit out of everyone's car a long time ago.

Anthony came back waving the folders. "It's done! It's fucking done! Please stop killing hitting my car!"

Chow snatched the folders off his hand and walked away, towards the Escalade. Olivia never felt so fucking alive - though she was now sweatier than she'd like. As a final fuck you to Anthony Grey, she stuck the bat through the steering wheel pushed forward with a final burst of rage, levering the whole piece off the dashboard.

She took a good look at the car and felt a good 40 pounds lighter. Olivia took the bat out of the car - it was completely scratched, and now a bit bent.

"I'm keeping the bat and calling your insurance, by the way. So don't bother trying to get the payout on the car." She said, recuperating her breath.

He would be lucky to get insurance ever again once she was done with the insurance reps. They were going to hear a phenomenal story of how he destroyed the car himself for the payout to help his drowning business.

He looked at her with his angry soulless eyes, face scrunched in anger. "The second Northman is done with you, you better watch your fucking back."

His words were menacing but Olivia wasn't scared. She felt a dark vast emptiness at the thought of Eric turning her away; of him disposing of her, of him being done with her as if she meant nothing. The thought of not being his accountant not, feeding off his power, or never annihilating their enemies together again; Not having his eyes on her, his lips on her skin, never again being in his arms. That thought scared her far more than Anthony Grey's words ever would.

A.N:

This chapter is officially the longest one! I haven't broken the 8k mark since chapter 17 lol

And hey - I said Godric was back briefly, I didn't say it would feel good! But him going off to the Authority is a very important piece of the puzzle.

Having said all that, maaaan what a sad chapter to write. The world goes on, but both of them are hurting :(

Not sure if I'll have time to edit and post another chapter before the holidays, but if I can't I'll make sure to write tons on my phone so you'll tons of updates in the new year!

xoxo love u all