Eric's eyes stood out the most. They burned: a fire, a hunger, an ecstasy of power. She felt the echoes of his endorphins in her own body, how they whirled inside him, how every muscle of his body felt lit up. Alive. She'd seen this look before, but it was rare, fleeting. A barely there imprint as her mouth sucked his blood. Him, gazing down at her: loving but terrifying. It was the same exultant hunger. The thrill of a captured hunt. It was foreign. Inhuman. How both tenderness and evil lived within him, two sides of the same coin. How she didn't know which side landed up. Heads? Or tails?
Bill's blood dripped down Eric's jeans and boots as he crouched before Jason's body, turning him on his back, leaning forward and sniffing the congealing wound on his neck. Jason was limp and pale, but his chest rose and fell with life. He was struggling, but he was still there. Eric glanced first at Sookie, making eye contact while he tore a bite into his own forearm, placing it above Jason's mouth. Sookie crawled over, grasping Jason's hand in both of hers as he instantly latched himself to Eric's skin. Eric leaned over a bit with a grunt, allowing him to drink for only a few moments before pushing him back.
"Eric, he needs more," Sookie said, Jason still delirious at her feet. It was barely a taste in comparison to what he fed Sookie on a near nightly basis.
"No," Eric disagreed. "That is enough." Jason's eyes flickered open as if proving Eric's point on command. He looked around wildly, then threw his hand up to his neck where the wound was healing. Before Jason could even say anything, Eric wrapped both his palms around Jason's face and leaned in close, until there was but a hair's breadth of space between them. He tilted his head slightly, pupils dilating to huge, black saucers, his voice transforming to gentle and soft.
"You had a nice, uneventful night. You enjoyed the sunset, fixed your truck, and spent time with your sister. You met me and now you know that I do no harm. The day was long; you are desperately tired," he crooned, a warped, tasteless warmth as he smoothed Jason's hair back like a mother to a sick child.
Jason blinked, looking back and forth between Eric and Sookie, vacant and stripped raw.
"Man, I'm tired," he said, "Think I might hit the hay, if y'all don't mind."
"Jason!" Gran cried out, nearly forgotten in the corner of the porch. "You might need the hospital, we should call the police!"
Eric's eyes flashed and he turned his attention to her, repeating the calm, soothing eye contact until she melted before him, convinced whole-heartedly of her rewritten evening. Baking apple pie, spending time outside, watching the fireflies. The moon was bright. The night was warm. All was well, all was well. Gran and Jason left together, stumbling up the stairs in a trance without a care in the world. Only Sookie saw the true remnants: Jason's blood on the porch, the wooden stake, Bill's remains, if one could even call the puddle of sludge 'remains.'
Eric swallowed, turning his attention to Sookie. She watched his Adam's apple bob, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. The endorphins were gone. The triumphant glee from the kill, gone. She felt only faint tremors within him, fleeting feelings that whispered and dissolved. Then a cold, steel wall dropped into place and she felt nothing. Nothing at all.
"Sit with me?" he asked, pulling her to the porch swing. She eyed it, then him, warily. He sensed her unease, of course, and moved with delicate caution. Yet another whiplash in his outward expression. She started to question his truths, remembering Sam's warning against Eric's manipulation. Was it all a mask? Was he nothing but a cold-blooded killer mimicking a lover? They sat together and when his fingertips ran gently down her face, the action felt as pure and genuine as when those same hands thrust a stake into Bill's chest without even a hint of remorse.
"You're safe now," he said, moving closer until she was nearly in his lap, tucking himself around her.
"Do you want to leave, then?" she asked into his shirt, her voice attempting monotone, an act at war with her inner tumult. He tilted her head up with his hands to make eye contact, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Why would I want that?"
"Well, you no longer owe me," she said, as if it were obvious, "There is no longer a debt."
"I don't want that," he scoffed. "Never think it."
She began to shake though it was not cold out. Little tremors, her body finding release from shock. He held her close to him, a tight grip, attempting to restrain her physical reaction, forcing obedience. Instead she shook more as if in defiance, staring out into the night, the stars blinking impassively back, impartial to everything that happened beneath them.
"Jason almost died," Sookie whispered.
"Almost," Eric agreed, palm on her back. She wondered how this tallied up in all the death he'd seen in his long existence. Probably but a blip on the radar. To her, it was everything. He shuffled beneath her, then spoke with command: "Look at me."
She arched her neck to find his gaze wide and imploring, pupils encompassing the blue. She felt his void reach out. Hard, forceful. It made her lips purse, her own mind pushing back. He tucked her hair behind her ears before he spoke in the soothing, dulcet tones he'd just used on Jason and Gran.
"You had a nice night until I arrived, nothing of note—"
"Eric Northman are you trying to glamour me?" she interrupted angrily, pushing back from his chest. He blinked, his pupils shrinking to their normal width, lips open in surprise. "How fuckin' dare you?" She couldn't remember a time in her life in which she felt angrier. Profane anger at that. She stood up, leaving him sitting on the porch swing while he stared up at her in barely concealed shock. "I have half a mind to rescind your invitation."
That moved him to action, standing to tower over her, holding his hands up in surrender. His fangs dropped at the same time, negating the passive action. His involuntary response was to force her not to rescind, that much was clear.
"I..." he started, then trailed off. In a thousand years of vampirism, this was one situation he had never encountered. No humans were immune to glamour. But no humans were telepaths, either.
"I don't want to forget," she shot back, acidic and raw. "Any of it."
"I wanted to take the pain away," he replied as if it were the obvious, natural thing to do.
"Pain is a part of life. It's a part of my life. Without the bad there's no good," she said, her voice losing most of its power by the end.
"Good, bad… These are human inventions. They are simply ideas." He was dismissive, like he'd heard this argument many times before.
"Well, I'm human, if you remember," she said, moving away to open the front door. Though it was still early, she was exhausted.
"I remember," he replied quietly, his eyes flickering to the side for a moment before searching out her face once more.
"I'm going to go to bed," she said, glancing down at Jason's blood one last time. She felt torn inside, longing for the tranquility of before, but at the same time no longer being able to imagine a life without Eric's presence.
"I will stay," Eric announced, forceful as always. She met his eyes with hers, gazing into the blue. Though he hadn't asked a question, she could tell he was awaiting her decision, waiting to see if she would turn him away. "I will stay," he repeated, softer, when she didn't. "I will stay."
They climbed the stairs together and he helped her change into sweatpants and a T-shirt, moving her to her bed when she looked as though she was unsure about the next step of the process. He tucked the blankets up to her chin, then sat propped up beside her on top of the covers. He rested his palm against her face and left it there, cupping her jaw, blessing her with silence. She curled up on her side, staring at the notch in his belt, the amount of holes until the buckle, counting them, forward, backward, and forward again until she fell asleep.
x
Eric drifted after the incident with Bill. He arrived sparingly and often later in the evenings. She recognized the familiar orbit, the push and the pull. She could feel the tension under his skin, his uncertainty. After all, there was no one on their side. The humans didn't like vampires hanging around-Jason was still a bit hesitant about the whole thing even after the glamour-and vampires weren't exactly notorious for sticking with one person, especially if that person was human. Both Eric and Sookie were fighting their better instincts, and the more time they spent apart the more concrete it began to feel.
When he didn't come for the third night in a row, she knew he'd made his decision. She could feel the finality in her bones, echoing back from his own. They were too different. They were worlds apart. There was too much risk. It wasn't going to work. These were her reasons, and she assumed his were the same. She spent her day stewing in anger at his cowardice, at his inability to come to her and tell her that it was over. After the sun set, she decided to take matters into her own hands, driving straight to Fangtasia.
She underestimated how many people would be there on a Friday night. There were humans and vampires everywhere, spilling out into the parking lot and the road. She parked her car, her eye catching a glint of fang near a distant street lamp just before it sunk into the willing victim beneath it. She approached Pam at the front, immediately getting the usual verbal abuse about distracting Eric from his job.
"Pam," Sookie said, holding up her hand, "Save it. Please."
Pam looked at her quizzically, trying to deduce Sookie's expresion.
"What are you doing here, Sookie?" she asked without the usual vehemence. She was suspicious.
"I'm here to see Eric."
"What else is new," she rolled her eyes skyward, "but for what purpose?"
The door to the club opened from the inside, Eric standing ominously, his form filling the threshold in his usual all-black attire. A few of the humans waiting in line looked up, starstruck.
"Oroa dig inte, min dotter," he said to Pam, leaving space for Sookie to pass him. Out of habit, she hooked her pinky finger into his pointer in order to drive out the excess noise of the club. He looked down at her without expression, letting his hand stay. She could feel his confusion mixed with a bitter tang of fear. She'd never felt fear from him before. She didn't like the taste; it made her shiver. He followed her lead to his back office, the crowd parting before them like the Red Sea. Something in their faces must've clued the other clubgoers into giving them a wide berth. Once they'd entered the office, Sookie removed her finger. He stared at his own empty hand, then moved his eyes to her face.
"I wish you would just do it," she said, perching against his desk. "And stop drawin' it out like this."
"I don't know what you mean," he replied in his carefully affected monotone.
"I can feel you," she spat, "I can feel that you're pullin' away from me."
"To give you space."
"Space from you? Or space for you?"
"Space from me."
She could see his chest begin to rise and fall more rapidly, the anger tamped down inside him trying to fight its way out. His war fueled her own, and she pushed herself up into his space, recklessly determined to force his hand. He'd had centuries of guarding his emotions but that wasn't going to stop her from trying. Not now at least.
"What do you want, Eric Northman?" she asked, her head craning up to face him. His eyes flickered uneasily, but he maintained contact. "I don't think you know. Do you?"
He swallowed, his fangs dropping, jaw clenching.
"Don't push me," he warned.
"Or what?"
He dipped his head to her at vampire speed, bypassing her lips and sinking his fangs into her neck, clutching her to him. She felt the floodgates of emotion within him open, suddenly awash over the both of them. The fear was sharper, it dipped into desperation. Lust. Anger. Affection. Back to fear. She pushed at his chest until he backed up, his fangs dripping. He'd never bitten her without express permission. He growled like he was trying to prove something, but there was no fire in his eyes. Only emptiness. Before she could think, she reached up and slapped him across the face. He took the blow, looking back at her impassively, the wall up once more. For the first time ever, he didn't heal her wound, her neck slowly continuing to drip blood.
"If you won't say it," Sookie said, her eyes brimming, her cheeks flushed, "I will. Goodbye." She turned on her heel to leave but he caught her at the door, suddenly in her path.
"Wait," he said. She wondered then if he was going to convince her to stay. If he was going to tell her that her assumptions were wrong, that she was misunderstanding his feelings, that things were fine, that they were fine. Instead, he pricked his pointer finger with his fang, gently rubbing circles to close the wound on her neck. "It's not safe out there, bleeding."
Sookie pushed past him, diving into the waiting crowd of the club. The music was loud and the thoughts were louder. Even still, over all of that, she could hear a roar followed by the sound of physical harm, of objects breaking, of glass shattering. Pam darted past her toward the destruction as Sookie exited, not even sparing a final glance. She got in her car, her hand hovering over the keys without turning the ignition. She felt a surge of nausea, followed by a righteous anger mixed with desperate sorrow.
She couldn't tell if it was hers or his.
x
Two weeks and still no change. She felt him every day and every night. It was never less. It started affecting her work at Merlotte's, especially the late shifts when he, too, was awake. She'd be taking an order and experience an entirely irrational surge of anger, so volatile she felt it all the way to her fingertips. Then there were the spikes of lust, during which she assumed he was feeding or… well, she didn't want to think about that. But most common, and perhaps most devastating of all, was the apathy. The boredom. It was a constant presence at the back of her mind, threading through all of her other thoughts, worming its way to the foreground, overpowering. Her mind had always been a host for others' thoughts and opinions, but now it felt she no longer had any room for herself left in there at all.
Sookie was on her second hour of a busy lunch shift. The tables were packed and she was covering two sections instead of one, using the constant busyness to push Eric's passive, sleeping thrum to the background. She dropped off a few burgers then spun around, nearly colliding with Sam in the process.
"Sorry, Sook," he said, dodging her with two pints of beer. "Hard to keep up today."
"Did Arlene even call in?" Sookie asked, peeved. She was meant to be waitressing today, too, but she'd never bothered to show up. Sookie could see customers staring daggers at her from across the bar, clearly impatient for their food.
"No, but I'm about to give her another call," he said, then looked at the entrance. "Well, speak of the Devil."
Arlene stood at the door, no uniform, looking wide-eyed and confused. Like she wasn't sure how she'd gotten to Merlotte's at all. Her hair was disheveled and her makeup was not done. She was wearing a ratty pair of jeans and a t-shirt, all very unlike her. Sookie looked at her from across the crowds, watching as Arlene's eyes whirled in their sockets, spinning and spinning until they landed on Sookie. She locked in then, moving with determination to where Sookie stood, stock still in the middle of the restaurant.
"Thank goodness you're here," Sookie said when she was within earshot, grasping her arm and pulling her away from the prying ears and eyes. "My feet feel like they're about to fall off with all this runnin' about."
"Sookie," Arlene said solemnly, leaning in so she was only inches from Sookie's face. "I have a message for Sookie."
"Well, you found me," Sookie laughed uneasily, attempting to back up but finding herself pressed into the wall separating the bar from the kitchen. She could feel the heat from the fryer on the back of her neck, the sizzle as food dropped into the hot oil.
"The death of Bill Compton does not matter. The death of Bill Compton does not matter. The murders will keep coming. The murders will keep coming." She spoke slowly, deliberately, with deadly accuracy. Each sentence said twice, like an automated message in the voicemail box. "Sookie will go to New Orleans. Sookie will go to New Orleans. Sookie will not tell. Sookie will not tell. Whoever she tells, will die. They will die. They will die."
"Arlene," Sookie said urgently, grasping both her arms, "Snap out of it, would you?"
"Do you understand?" Arlene asked with the same consistent, terrifying tenor. "Jason will die. Sam will die. Your gran will die. No one will be left. No one will be left. We will keep coming. The longer you wait, we will keep coming. Everyone you love will die. Do you understand?"
"That's enough," Sookie scolded, pushing into her mind with force. It was thick, foggy, difficult to wade through. Like Ginger's. Like Jason's. Like a hundred others' at Fangtasia. This was the work of a vampire. This was glamour. Her heart clenched, worried she would find Eric here as she found him everywhere, in everything. Still, she pushed onwards, searching for the source. She didn't recognize it when she found it. She was a vampire, that much was obvious. Shocking red hair, indescribable beauty, lips painted red and jewelry coated in diamonds. She was speaking very slowly, her face hazy up close, smooth yet grainy, like watching an old movie in cinemascope. It was mesmerizing; nearly impossible to look away.
"Do you understand?" Arlene's voice asked again, interrupting the woman's instructions and forcing Sookie from the vision.
"I understand," Sookie said quietly, letting go of Arlene's forearms and severing the connection between them. Arlene nodded gravely and reached into her pocket, removing a sharpened kitchen knife and slowly raising it to her own throat. "Arlene, wait," Sookie protested, lunging. But it was too late. Arlene dragged the sharpened blade across her skin, blood spurting as she slumped to the ground, bleeding out. Sookie backed up, pressing herself into the wall, paralyzed with shock, with fear. The back of her mind warbled, a void's push, questioning, but she ignored it.
A customer came back to use the restroom, her scream breaking Sookie from her frozen position. Sam came running, cataloguing the scene before him, grabbing Sookie and depositing her in the back office.
"Sam, she slit her throat," Sookie said urgently as if he hadn't seen Arlene's body on the floor, knife in hand. "She reached up and-"
"Clean yourself up, I'll be back," Sam said, throwing her a dish towel. She was covered in Arlene's blood; she hadn't even realized. Instead of wiping it off, she clutched the dish towel tightly in both hands until her knuckles turned red then white. They will keep coming. They will die. Tell no one. Do you understand? She didn't know how long she sat there before Sam came back, stress in the corner of his eyes. "Hey, I've gotta go with the police to the station. I called Jason to pick you up. Stay here, okay?"
Sookie nodded slowly. They will keep coming. Do you understand?
She didn't wait for Jason. Instead, she drove straight to Fangtasia for one last night.
The sun was still up when she got there, the place deserted. Fangtasia in the daytime was almost laughable. It could be any other strip mall club, nondescript, a bit rundown. Even the door was less vibrant in the daytime, the sheen on the handle muted. She pushed on it but it didn't budge, locked down until night. She settled herself down to wait, resting her back against the door, watching the cars zip past on the highway, the consistent woosh then quiet. She let her eyes drift closed as the sun fell before her, setting over the western trees.
She dreamt of Jason. He was alive and in love.
They will keep coming. Everyone you love will die.
"Sookie?"
The voice jolted her awake, Pam's feet before her in three-inch stilettos. She knelt down to eye level, leaning in to sniff her clothing.
"You know you're covered in blood."
Sookie looked down at her Merlotte's uniform, bleary-eyed, the speckles of Arlene's blood now dry on the white t-shirt.
"It's not mine," Sookie said, her throat rough.
"Obviously," Pam drawled, reaching out her hand to Sookie. "Let's get you cleaned up." She took Sookie through the empty club to Eric's office, sitting her down on the chair. She grimaced, remembering her last visit, reliving the moments she'd rather forget. Even though she knew Eric didn't want her, she just needed to see him one last time. And then she would have the courage. He would give her the courage. Pam left and returned moments later with a black robe and a warm, damp cloth. She'd never pictured Pam as the tender type, this moment of compassion surprising her.
"Thanks," Sookie said, wiping the blood from her arms.
"Don't mention it," Pam said. "And that's an order. Never mention it. To anyone."
Sookie nearly smiled at that. Pam left her alone again to change, knocking on the door a few minutes later.
"I'm changed now, Pam," Sookie said. But it wasn't Pam who opened the door; it was Eric. They looked at each other from across the room, the silence so loud it roared in her ears like waves on a stormy surf. He betrayed no emotion, but his body was angled toward hers just slightly, wanting to move but held back by some invisible force. She felt her own face start to crack, breaking its impassive, stony veneer. That was all he needed, crouched before her so suddenly she had to blink to refocus. She grabbed his jacket, the familiar leather soft in her hands. His blue eyes burned as he reached out, pulling her to him, pressing the side of his face to hers, exhaling slowly. She wrapped herself around him, reveling in this moment, bittersweet in its finality.
"You're coming with me," he said, picking her up, moving faster than she could comprehend, first out of the club and then up into the air. His arms locked her to him as she clutched his neck, tucking in close, unwilling to look around but feeling the cool wind push against her. They stopped with a jolt, Eric's feet on the ground outside of a modern though relatively nondescript home. He placed her down gingerly next to him, gauging her stability before digging into his pocket for a set of jangling keys.
"You live here?" she asked when he opened the door. He nodded, pressing her forward with a hand on her lower back. She was all mixed up, not intending to experience a first on her night of lasts. The space was made up of dark woods and deep colors, immaculate and entirely Eric in personality and style. He took her to a sitting room, placing her on a dark green velvet couch as he started a fire in the hearth, zipping around quickly but throwing constant glances in her direction as if afraid she would run. She did the opposite, resting her head on the back of the couch, watching his movements until he stilled before her once more. He kneeled on the ground, gazing up, looking for all the world like he didn't know the next move to make. She reached out, grasping the back of his neck, her fingers weaving into his hair, pulling his head down into her lap. He followed her lead, resting his cheek against her thigh, wrapping his arms around her lower back as she stroked his hair, gentle and soothing.
He let out a small noise, his eyes drifting closed, her own following when his peace leaked straight into her. The flames flickered as they stayed set in their positions, her on the couch and him curled around her legs, his knees still on the floor.
"I love you," he whispered into the silence. Her hands stilled, chest tightening. This wasn't part of the script. He was meant to pity her, allow her some borrowed time. Then say goodbye.
"What?"
He didn't look up, but clutched her to him tighter, the top of his head digging into her belly.
"I understand if you don't love me. I treated you badly. I was scared of it, of the power you had over me, of how much I… wanted. From you. All the time. It was dangerous. It is dangerous. The last time with a human didn't… I didn't… it couldn't…" He stopped speaking then. Abrupt. Choked. He was locked up, both physically and mentally. She restarted her gentle ministrations in his hair, giving him the time to reset, to relax into her. He exhaled, long and slow. "It can be different this time." She felt his doubt, his hope. "It has to be."
She reached down beneath his chin and tugged, revealing his face to her. There was a single trail of blood from his left bloodshot eye down his cheek. She licked her thumb, wiping it away, then popping it in her mouth to taste him. He tracked her movements, pulling her thumb out of her mouth, kissing her instead. She hadn't forgotten the feel of his lips, cool and smooth, yet needy. Wanting. Unmatched strength locked behind steel bars of caution. A predator sympathetic toward its prey. She felt the love in him then, pouring outwards through each touch, his fingertips feather light down her face, his lips barely allowing her much-needed air. She gasped for it, pushing back on his shoulder, overwhelmed by the impossibility of the moment.
Everyone you love will die.
"You feel sadness," he said against her lips, brow pursed.
"I just missed you, is all," she lied, grabbing him tighter, yanking to the point of distraction. He didn't question it, perhaps due to his own desperation, his own desire to feel any type of reciprocation to his admission. An unknowing accomplice to her fiction.
He joined her on the couch and she climbed atop him, gazing down into his eyes. He held her hair back, reaching toward her with his entire body, with his whole being. When she met him in the middle he sighed, wrapping his hand around the knot of her robe and pulling her in. She bit his lip roughly, causing his fangs to drop with a snarl, heavy breathing and eyes flashing. He gripped her neck, holding her in place, unzipping his pants, using his fangs to pierce his own lip, thick blood oozing down his chin. She licked it up and stayed, sucking his lip into her mouth, feeling his blood slide down her throat, silky and smooth and forever.
She cried out when he sunk into her, so familiar and right and the culmination of blind faith. She understood, now. The hardest part wouldn't be dying. It would be leaving him to do it. It would be lying to him, loving him, and leaving him. His eyes rolled up, searching for her, wanting the connection she was too overwhelmed to give, instead tucking her face into his neck before giving into her emotions, desperately grasping him, the only solid thing in the storm.
"Tell me what's wrong," he said, gasps between his movements, "I will fix it. I can fix it."
He was cutting up pieces of himself before he even knew what he was offering, delivering them to her on the silver platter that burned his skin.
She kissed him while he came, brushing away the tear that fell before he'd notice it. He gathered her to him, stroking her back and arms, nuzzling his face into hers, giving into his inner animal. She held onto him tightly, wrapping his shirt around her fists, digging into him, burying herself in his skin. He didn't speak, but he did hum. Something ancient and soothing. A mournful melody, a thousand years old, lost to time.
x
When she awoke the next morning he was gone. She was wrapped in a blanket, still wearing the robe from Fangtasia, her hair wild, her cheek creased from the pillow. She gazed around Eric's house in the daylight, a story of dichotomies. The gentle light filtering in seemed to invade his space like a foreign enemy, the bright fighting the dark. The coals in the fire still glowed red from the night before, though the flames were gone. Her eyes landed on a piece of paper resting on the coffee table, a sloping "S" on the front. She opened it to read his handwriting, short but sweet.
Stay here today. Buy whatever you need from the store. The keys to the Corvette are near the door. I'll see you tonight. E x
She stalled. First by using his shower, then by wandering his home. She could feel his presence beneath her, likely in some light proof room to spend the day. His house was simple and functional. The kitchen had no food, of course. There were no photos, no personal touches. There was a bedroom, though she knew it wasn't used for sleeping. In the dresser, she found a black t-shirt and jeans she was able to cuff several times, a belt holding it to her waist. She didn't have any other choice given that her bloodied Merlotte's uniform still sat on the floor of Eric's office back at Fangtasia. His clothes smelled like him: crisp and cool. She breathed it in.
Sure enough, the keys and a heavy, black credit card sat on a small table by the front door. She eyed them both, picking up the keys but leaving the card. She wouldn't need that where she was going. She settled into the Corvette, moving the seat forward a foot just to reach the wheel. The drive to New Orleans was a long one. She didn't know what awaited her, but she was pretty sure she would find out before sundown.
She arrived downtown just as the sun was setting, the lights of the city glowing all around her in replacement. It was boisterous here, loud, so different from what she was used to in Bon Temps. She parked the car in a side alley and stepped out into the crowd of the French Quarter, dripping with hanging plants, sweethearts smiling, the distant wail of jazz. She hadn't been here since she was a young girl with her parents, with Jason. Everything felt foreign, now. The uniformed happiness of the streets mocking her as she wandered them alone, waiting for the unknown to approach her. She was staring at the moon-bright, full, wanting-when it did. Not a vampire, but a human.
"Sookie Stackhouse?" he asked her. A bodyguard type, burly, a pistol tucked into his belt. "I'm here to take you to the Queen."
She nodded once, following him to a Jeep parked a few blocks down the road. They drove together in silence, though his eyes kept darting to her passive expression when he thought she wouldn't notice. They pulled up to a grand estate, a home so big she'd only seen the type in movies. White marble, manicured gardens, candles flickering. A manufactured, tailored ambiance that matched the vampire awaiting her arrival in the arched entryway. Sookie got out of the car in Eric's oversized clothes, her hair down and limp, and stared at the woman almost wanting to laugh. All of this effort, for her? For this? All of the death, the destruction? The vampire seemed to think the same, smiling cruelly at her as she approached.
"Well I'll be damned," she said, "I never thought this moment would come. I'm Sophie-Anne, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Her voice had a Southern lilt but also something deeper, huskier, nearing French.
"Sookie," she replied, tentatively shaking Sophie-Anne's cool hand.
Sophie-Anne used the opportunity to pull her closer, Sookie stumbling a few steps toward the woman. She inhaled deeply, smiling further.
"Ah, yes," she said. "Now that's the smell I was hoping for."
"You know my smell?" Sookie asked, confused. Sophie-Anne waved her off.
"Come, come. This is all too formal. Let's go to the sunroom."
Sophie-Anne's shoes clacked against the marble, echoing down the hallway lined with statues, grand palms, and floor-to-ceiling windows. A bit ironic, given that her entire existence took place at night, but Sookie wasn't about to question it. Armed guards also stood at most corners of the rooms, though she noted with surprise that they were human, not vampire. Across their chests they held semi-automatics as well as rows and rows of wooden stakes. There were also baskets of them all around, presumably for easy access for the humans. No wonder Sophie-Anne didn't have any vampire guards. She clearly didn't trust them.
They approached a crystalline indoor pool with lounge chairs all along the sides. She gestured to one for Sookie to sit.
"I'm so happy you've decided to come," she said, sitting down beside her like two girls at a sleepover party. She made no mention of Arlene nor her methods. "Had to go to an awful lot of trouble, but I can smell that it was worth it."
Sookie grimaced, leaning away from Sophie-Anne without responding to her bait.
"He really claimed you, didn't he?" she asked, eying her up and down. "Driving in his car, wearing his clothes… consuming his blood. It's all a bit much if you ask me."
Everyone you love will die.
"Eric means nothin' to me," Sookie said vehemently. "I needed him to get here. That's all."
Sophie-Anne laughed, her teeth as bleached white as her clothing, as her home.
"That may be true," she said, "But I'm not sure that feeling is mutual, if you catch my drift." She reached out for a few tendrils of Sookie's hair, rubbing it between her fingertips thoughtfully. Her nails were lacquered, long. "He was supposed to bring you to me ages ago. I suppose I see why he failed to follow my orders. But let me taste the merchandise, just to make sure."
Sophie-Anne grabbed Sookie's wrist, dropping her fangs and biting down in one fluid motion. Sookie gasped, the unfamiliar fangs sinking deep into the thin skin. She clutched the lounge chair with her other hand, waiting for Sophie-Anne to finish. Her vision began to spot before Sophie-Anne finally pulled away, wrenching her teeth out and dropping Sookie's wrist. She licked her lips gratuitously, smiling at Sookie.
"You taste like sunlight," she said hungrily.
Sookie's voice was shaking now.
"I'm here, so no one back home dies, right? That was the deal, right?"
Sophie-Anne smiled indulgently, patting her knee.
"Of course, Sweetheart. You're my pet now. That's what matters." Sophie-Anne looked at her with longing. "Just one more taste," she said, latching onto Sookie's neck. She exhaled, dropping back onto the lounge chair. It wasn't long before she passed out.
She came to gradually. It was still night outside so she must not have been out for long. There was blood on her wrist, her neck. She tried to push herself up on her elbow, feeling weak. Drained.
"I'll confess," Sophie-Anne said, drinking a bloody cocktail across the pool, watching her. "I went a little overboard." Sookie looked at the basket of wooden stakes, only ten feet from her. Sophie-Anne was much farther away, but vampire speed negated all distance. There was no shot. "Don't worry," Sophie-Anne crooned, "I'll take good care of you."
A sudden commotion at the front caused them both to look over.
"Seems we have company," she clucked, standing up and walking over to Sookie. She leaned down conspiratorially. "I have a good guess on who it might be."
Eric was already bleeding when he was walked into the room, surrounded by the human guards. They had guns pointed at him from all angles, his wrists shackled with silver. Sophie-Anne gave him a long look, sitting down beside Sookie and pulling her onto her lap, petting her hair like a child. Sookie's blood dripped onto Sophie-Anne's clothing, her black jeans scraping over her perfectly white slacks. She didn't seem to mind, her eyes tracking Eric menacingly, her fangs already dropped. Sookie noticed then that her hand seemed to be strategically placed just under Sookie's jawline, just a quick movement away from snapping her neck.
"Kneel," Sophie-Anne ordered calmly once Eric was within a few feet. Eric, his eyes also on Sophie-Anne's hand, dropped to his knees before them, breathing heavily. He looked at Sookie, his void pushing on her, trying to communicate something though Sookie didn't know what. "Eyes on me," Sophie-Anne said, snapping her fingers to get his attention.
"Your Majesty," Eric spoke slowly, bowing his head then lifting it again. She could see several bullet holes in his shoulders, chest, legs each sporting a red bloom of blood.
"Eric, Eric, Eric," she sighed. "Why did you have to make this so difficult on all of us? It would've been so simple, had you just brought her to me like I'd asked two years ago. I know we've both lived an awfully long time, but I'm not a patient vampire."
Eric said nothing, his gaze again drifting from Sophie-Anne to Sookie as though he couldn't even hear her. Sookie shook her head, not understanding. Two years ago? She hadn't known him then, she hadn't even heard of him.
"Instead, you tried to outwit me. A shame. As if guarding that filthy excuse for a restaurant in Bon Temps would work in the long run. You may be the strongest, oldest vampire in my Queendom, but it is still to me that you report, Viking." Sookie began to put the puzzle pieces together in her mind as Sophie-Anne's fangs drew closer to her skin. Eric had been there before she even knew. The reason Eric was in the woods at all the night she found him was because of her. Eric had already been protecting her, well before he pledged to in order to absolve his debt. It was always Eric. Her eyes welled up at the realization; if it weren't for her, none of this would've happened at all.
"I'm sorry," Sookie spoke to Eric as if Sophie-Anne weren't there. "For all of it."
"I'm not," Eric smiled sadly. She felt his emotions press out toward her, concentration moving the feelings in a steady pulse. Courage. Bravery. Trepidation. Understanding. And love. Most importantly, love. He didn't regret a single moment.
"Enough of this shit," Sophie-Anne snapped, turning to Sookie. Sookie pulled away, tensing for another bite, worried it would kill her. Instead, she placed her palms on Sookie's cheeks, cradling her, tilting her head slightly to the side. Sophie-Anne's pupils dilated wide, her painted lips exhaling slow breaths. "Sookie," she said softly. Sophie-Anne's void pushed. Immediately, Sookie relaxed her face, gazing back into Sophie-Anne's eyes with the abstract expression she'd come to know in the glamoured.
"Yes," Sookie breathed, loosening her muscles.
"I'm going to kill your lover now. And you're going to sit here politely. You're going to watch and you're going to enjoy it." Sophie-Anne smiled generously, petting her hair as Sookie nodded absently, slumping against the side of the lounge chair.
"I'm going to enjoy it," Sookie agreed, wispy and detached.
Confident in her work, Sophie-Anne turned to Eric who still kneeled, shackled, before her. She waved for the humans to retreat, approaching Eric as he struggled against the silver. Sophie-Anne knelt in front of him, caressing his cheek. He nipped at her with a fang and she pulled her hand back.
"You know what?" she said thoughtfully. "I blame myself. But how was I to know that the human I wanted was going to castrate my best, most ruthless Sheriff. You can't predict these things, you know?"
Eric threw himself against her, but without the use of his hands and weakened by the silver bullets, he was no match for the younger vampire. Sophie-Anne flipped him on his back, crouched over his prostrate form, a puddle of black splayed on clean, white marble. She knelt in close, finding a bullet hole, pressing down with her pointer finger through his shirt. Eric cried out as the silver nestled deeper into his chest, thrashing beneath Sophie-Anne's laughter.
"A pity," Sophie-Anne remarked, moving in for the killing blow.
It was then that Sookie thrust the stake into her back, feeling the wood slide between her ribs. Sophie-Anne flailed, stumbling backward toward her.
"Run!" Eric roared, lunging toward Sophie-Anne, slicing at her with his teeth. Sookie ran to the basket of stakes as Eric's body collided with Sophie-Anne's, throwing her to the ground. He ripped his shackles through a statue's sculpted sword, slicing them both in two. Sookie grabbed another stake as Sophie-Anne flew toward her, Eric suddenly throwing her sideways off her path, slamming her into the marble by her neck.
"Eric!" Sookie cried out, throwing him the stake. He wasted no time, shoving the second stake directly into her heart. He leaned back, falling slightly then catching himself to the sizzling sound of silver. Sophie-Anne's blood grew around them, surprisingly thick and slow. A deep, dark red. Sookie ran over to Eric, helping him to his feet, Eric's arm draped over her shoulder as he tried his best to support himself. "C'mon, we gotta get out of here," she said, stumbling as she dragged them both.
A few of the humans peeked back in to assess the damage, looking at the duo warily.
"Your Queen is dead," Sookie declared. "Leave."
They didn't hesitate, disappearing from the mansion without a sound. Sookie found the Jeep she was driven in earlier that evening, pushing Eric into the passenger's seat. She drove then, without direction. She kept driving until the lines of the roads began to warble, until the straight became curved. She pulled over on a deserted road, unable to go farther. Eric was conscious beside her, though barely. She could smell the sizzle of the cuffs as they bit into his skin but she had no way to remove them. He smiled at her anyway, reaching up to rub his thumb gently across her cheek.
"Sleep," he said softly. "You lost a lot of blood."
"Are you crazy?" she asked, pulling back out onto the road.
She would get to Bon Temps if it killed her.
Thankfully, she didn't have to go as far as she'd anticipated. Pam met them, summoned by Eric at some point on the drive. With gloves at the ready, she helped him remove the shackles and most of the silver bullets. Some were already on their way out, the vampiric healing ability doing its job. Eric wanted to give Sookie some of his blood but she denied him, already weakened from the silver and lack of feeding himself.
"I'll recover," Sookie said, tucking herself into Eric's arms in the backseat of Pam's car. Eric leaned down and kissed her softly. First her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, then, finally, her lips. Pam glanced back at them in the rearview mirror, rolling her eyes.
"Jesus Christ, you two. Get a room."
x
Gran officially met Eric. It actually went pretty well, too. He was polite, cordial, and only once did he nearly curse in her presence. He valiantly sipped a Tru Blood while Gran told him stories about Sookie's childhood; he even pretended they were interesting. He was particularly pleased with himself when Gran called him a 'nice, young man.'
"See?" Eric said playfully later, once they were in bed. "She knows how to compliment a man's age."
Sookie laughed, rolling toward him.
"You're right," Sookie said, "It's not your fault you're so old."
"I prefer to look at it as experience," he retorted, picking up her palm and kissing it chastely.
"You know," Sookie said, "I think you still owe me a debt."
"How's that?" he asked.
"You offered to protect me to even up the score, but you were already doin' that. You played me for a fool, Mr. Northman," she scolded, licking his lips with her tongue.
He grunted. "I told you I've learned to hedge my bets," he smiled. "Plus, I will forever be indebted to you anyway."
"Forever's an awful long time," she replied.
"I'll give it if you'll take it, min ängel," he answered with a wicked grin.
"You know I'm no angel," she said.
He smiled, capturing her lips in his own briefly.
"Agree to disagree."
x
the end!
thank you so much for reading xoxo
music really plays into what i write, so if you're interested, here are the four big ones (reflected in the chapter titles):
-the sound of silence, simon & garfunkel
-the long ride home, patty griffin
-the man comes around, johnny cash
-the only thing, sufjan stevens