Chapter 35: P.S: Hell

Eric felt he was stepping out from a dream and back into his strange and dark reality upon returning to Fangtasia. After dropping Olivia off at her house, he ordered Chow to send everyone early which instantly cued Pamela to call him - she was back and waiting for him at the office.

Even as he walked up the stairs behind the bar, it was faintly like watching a movie. Spending Olivia somehow warped his reality. He had sat at the edge of that lake and watched the moon hundreds of times, but never he felt things to be so bright and clear. Her aura was made of a light he had never seen before, and he wasn't entirely sure it had anything to do with her nature either.

When he walked into his office, Pam was sitting on his chair, dressed much like himself - all black topped with a leather jacket. She had gotten her hair done, with extra highlights and lowlights, which layered nicely with her blowout.

"Eric, what the fuck did you do?" Pamela confronted him.

He didn't know if this was about him getting arrested, or if it was bailing the entire staff costing them a few grand, or if she had found Burrell's daughter in the basement. It had been a turbulent 24 hours, and his progeny had chosen - let's not forget - not be here for it. So whatever wrath she was about to unleash on him, he was ready to tell her to fuck right off. Leaving him was allowed, but it certainly cost certain privileges.

But she told him something… unexpected?

"Ginger quit."

He blinked a couple of times, confused. This was supposed to phase him because…? "Okay."

"Okay?" She stood up angrily. "Who's gonna be the head bartender? Who's gonna receive liquor deliveries in the middle of the day? Who's gonna go to the bank for extra change for the till, or blow the health and safety inspector?"

"Literally anyone else," he said sharply, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Earth to Eric! This is a fuckin' problem! What the hell is going on with you?"

"You wanna know what's a problem, Pamela? It's the DEA sponsoring large-scale raids. It's the Shreveport PD building silver-coated cells for vampires at the county jail, it's the future Governor of Louisiana trying to use his daughter as bait, and it's his apparent lack of care when I fucking lock her in the basement. Those are fucking problems Pamela, so excuse me if I don't think losing that petri dish of STI's falls under my definition of a problem."

"I… I didn't... You-" her shoulders slumped and her mouth lingered open for a moment, trying to find the words. "You did what? Eric, tell me you did not put Willa downstairs."

"She's at the house. I had to shove her somewhere."

"No! No you did not have to shove her anywhere! Why didn't you let her go out the back the second the cops burst through the door?!"

"They surrounded the building. If they caught a 19-year-old inside a strip club we would have been ticketed and fined into fucking oblivion, not to mention the newspapers would do a 180 on me and accuse me of being a perverted creep who's corrupting Louisiana's next princess and I'd have Nan fucking Flanagan all over my ass for all the wrong reasons. I can't give them any ammunition."

Like walking the tightrope. Lose your footing once and you'll freefall. Eric knew he would always catch Pam if she fell. But every so often he doubted if she would do the same. The thought made him cold.

"Well, what are you gonna do to her?"

Eric told himself it was best to keep her out of it, for her own protection. But he wasn't so sure if that was real or not. "For legal reasons, it's best for you not to know."

"You are starting to sound a hell lot like her."

He knew she meant Olivia, and for whatever reason, it really pissed him off. She was one of the ones who stayed. Despite only being human, she was the one who had fought tooth and nail to get him out of these deep shit swamps they seemed to be falling into these days. They weren't blood bound, they didn't even have sexual attachments, she could have quit and worked for any other drug dealer in this country to achieve her goals, but she stayed here no matter how hard things got. Olivia seemed to be the only one here to catch him if he fell.

Before Eric had the chance of eviscerating his progeny with some hard pills to swallow, his phone rang. Private number. He knew who before he answered it.

"Good evening Governor," he said loudly and with the chest full. No more half measures. "I believe I have something that belongs to you."

Olivia drove slowly into the gravel lot leading to the abandoned textile factory. It was a wide building, three floors high. It belonged to the Vampire Crown land, purchased shortly after Hurricane Katrina. The basement of this old dwelling was light-tight, and it was used as emergency day shelters for vampires who lost their homes, graves, cubbies and other underground hidey-holes in the NOLA area. Eric had called in the dead of night, hours after she had gone to sleep. She was dreaming of dancing under the moonlight, surrounded by stars and water lilies.

"Am I gonna die?" Willa whimpered from the backseat.

She glanced at the girl from the rearview mirror, the reality could not be any further than her sweet dreams. Willa was white as a sheet of paper, making her hair look almost black. She was cleaner than the last time they met. Eric clearly let the girl take a shower, and then he gave her one of his black button-ups to wear as a dress. It was oversized, but it was kind of a cool look with her ugly white chunky mary janes.

"Of course not, unless you do something stupid."

"Like sneaking into a vampire nightclub?" Her lips quivered, full of regret.

"See, you get it. I will throw you a goddamn 2st1 birthday bash at Fangtasia if you want, but until then, you have to stay away. You're young, go party with college frat boys like God intended."

With the car parked by the loading dock, she waited, listening to her surroundings according to Eric's instructions. Other than Willa's whiny mind, she didn't pick up anything. The industrial complex was deserted. According to Eric's plan, he was scouting the place to make sure Truman was a good little boy and came alone as instructed.

"But frat guys are so…" She made a repulsed face.

Her eyes scanned the dark alleys and corners of this forgotten place looking for some hint of trouble in the shadows - or Eric. Same difference. "Right, because Eric has been so kind to you."

"He's not entirely-"

"No, no no, stop!" She turned around to face Willa, scared of her own voice. Olivia was not going to accept this weak-ass Stockholm syndrome bullshit. "Stop making excuses for him! Are you nuts?!"

The poor girl looked back confused. "What are you talking about? Eric is like, a real man, and you want me to give that up for frat guys?"

Naturally, you can guess what Olivia found in her mind next. Swiss damn cheese - full of holes. But they were patched in with memories that did not belong. The recollection she had of this weekend did not include any kinky basement shit. Not even close. Sigh. "Eric's bad, Willa. He's not the enchanted prince charming you think he is."

Suddenly the Queen's warning made a hell of a lot more sense.

"Then what is he, if not a gentleman?"

She thought hard about what the truth would be, and it all came down to a one-word answer. "He's a vampire."

Her cell phone pinged: Bring her up. Freight elevator, then stairs. Alright, it's showtime.

Olivia motioned for Willa to get out of the car and follow her. She had no idea how late it was, but judging by the chilly wind, she'd say it was well past midnight. Around the abandoned streets, it was quiet, and all you could hear were the rats making their errands in and out of buildings. The loading dock's door was unlocked, as Eric said it would be. It opened quietly despite its old hinges. Inside the old textile building, there were only emergency lights that lit very little but revealed the wide-open gutted inside. The freight elevator was ten feet down the wide receiving area. Olivia pushed the button, and she could hear machines humming up above.

"In Brooklyn, this would have been turned into luxury lofts in a heartbeat."

"You lived in New York?" Willa asked, full of wonder. "What was it like?"

The elevator made its way down: it was more like a big room, about 15 by 15 feet with a manual gate for a door. Olivia pulled it open and the two women stepped inside. She hit the top level button, did a tiny prayer for this old thing not to drop to their imminent death, and closed the gate. With a big clunk sound, the elevator started moving up. Her stomach filled with butterflies. Riding this old, decommissioned elevator wasn't even the scariest part of the evening - of her life, even. Even if Truman agreed and delivered, and that was a BIG if, there was so much wrong with her life. It would not solve her Fangtasia problems, her Queen problem, her nothing. Olivia could have been a lawyer, or worked for an insurance company, or been a homemaker to a rich husband. Why? Why this?

She looked at Willa, who stared back so intently, still. "Ah, err. New York was fine I guess. Expensive, loud, full of people, but it was good."

"Like the movies?"

"Sure."

"Does it really have the best pizza in America?"

"Woah, woah!" Olivia stopped her in her tracks for a moment. The disrespect. "That is a bit of a stretch. New Jersey definitely has the best pizza, no contest."

Willa Burrel seemed disappointed by the answer. "I wish I could go, you know?"

"... To New Jersey?" Liv asked, astonished. No one ever said that.

"Anywhere. My dad dictates everything in my life. What schools I went to, who my friends were, extracurriculars, what summer jobs I had, the college "I" picked, my major and all my classes; he let me live on campus but only if it was in the all-girls dorm. He got my volunteering positions, and my summer internships all set up. It feels like a prison, sometimes."

Do you know what also feels like prison? Eric's basement. If only she fucking remembered. "It won't always be like this. One day you'll have both New York and New Jersey pizza and find out for yourself which one is best."

They reached the top floor which was equally as dark as the first one. Olivia looked around and back at her phone. They were supposed to take the stairs up. Up where? The roof? Quietly the two wandered the empty level, looking for stairs. In an empty place, they should be easy to find, right?

Olivia felt more awake than she had ever been. Her veins had more adrenaline than blood cells at this point. She started to think back on the Gala, and all the research she did on the Burrells and their rich asshole friends. There had to be something stored away in her brain that she could use if this guy tried to play hard right?

She found an old emergency set of stairs on the southeast corner of the building. It was the only path that led upwards, so off they went. They found a dead-end fire door exit. Behind it, she could hear voices - male voices - talking in a normal tone. Her heartbeat was ringing in her ear, and the last time she felt this electric, she was going 190 mph. Deep breath.

Pushing the door open, the duo encountered exactly what they expected. Truman Burrell was standing in the middle of the building, wearing a navy blue business suit and brown shiny shoes as if he were on his way to another Gala. He was a short man, especially compared to Eric, who stood off to the side, near the borders. Olivia did not have to wonder if Eric took the elevator up. She knew damn well he did not.

"Willa! Oh my goodness, are you alright?" The man's voice cracked, showing all his cards. So he had a heart after all.

Eric interjected, sitting against the roof's guardrail at the very edge and waved at them. "Come here love, come take a seat with me."

And he was not talking to Olivia. The girl looked at both men, hesitating. Liv whispered in her ear. "Go to Eric, you'll be fine."

Willa nodded and walked over to the vampire. It was like sending a lamb to the slaughter. Olivia stood in place: rule number 5, always know your exits. Olivia stayed put by the only human way in and out of this roof. Eric threw his arm around Willa's shoulder and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Go to sleep."

She fell limp in his arms, and if it weren't for Eric's embrace, the girl would have fallen off this building. Olivia let out a little gasp, where Turman thundered in rage.

"What is it that you people want?! Do you want me to drop out? Is that it? I will, I'll forfeit my candidacy to Governor-"

"Don't be an idiot Truman, that's the only redeeming quality in you," Eric said, lovingly caressing Willa's chocolate hair.

"What do you want then, you monster?"

"I want you, dearest Governor, to call the DEA office in New Orleans and get file 6412009-3 closed."

He shook his head and scoffed. "I can't do that, I'm not even Governor yet."

"But you will be."

"How do you know?"

"Because the AVL wants you to be Governor, so you will be."

He stomped his feet. "Well, I believe in democracy."

Eric smiled. "Now I know where Willa gets her sweet innocence from."

"You dead fucking weasels the bunch of you! I knew I shouldn't have taken your damned dirty money!"

If only he knew how dirty it really was.

"Aah, come on. I imagine Nan Flannagan wouldn't be too happy to hear her money isn't good enough for your little PAC. But would really get her panties in a bunch, is if she hears what our good Governor did to their favorite Sheriff, not a week after cashing her cheque."

His lips formed a hard flat line and he said nothing at this. Olivia could read his mind clearly - he had betrayed the vampire allegiance. He had put a tail on his daughter knowing full well where she was going and why all so the cops and feds could set off a raid as an aggressive fishing expedition on Eric. He had taken his daughter home and turned Willa into a national joke and he wanted to put the vampire away. Plus, Truman figured he had more to gain politically by being more anti-vampire than vampire-neutral like he had been during the campaign trail.

Truman paced slightly side to side. "DEA runs on federal jurisdiction, I don't have that kind of power, even if I win."

But to Eric there are no impasses, only moves to be made. This was 4D chess, and Eric was well versed in how to play. "Should I wake up your sweet daughter so she can tell you all about how I was her daddy this weekend?"

She knew Eric was lying, but her father hated Eric so much he couldn't see it past the schoolyard provocation. The man was human, but the guttural sound that came from his body was not.

"Relax Truman, it was consensual. I'm not a monster," Eric laughed, giving Willa's sleeping body another squeeze.

The Governor's fists were white, his teeth were grinding, and he glared at Eric Northman with such rage, she had never seen it in a man. Truman was close to breaking. They were really going to do it-

"Oh God, that's worse for you, isn't it?" Eric looked disgusted. "You sick fuck - you rather your daughter be raped than enjoy a lay with a vampire. That is truly deplorable, even for a politician."

Ashamed, Truman reconsidered. "If I do this, will you leave my daughter alone?"

"Cross my unbeating heart."

A cold wind blew across the rooftop. Olivia saw a rare opportunity. It was time to make her move. "No, no. That deal is far too easy," she finally spoke up. "You're not even sweating."

"Do you have any idea what you're asking me to do? You are asking me to intervene in a federal investigation and make the law look the other way-"

"It's only a federal investigation because you white-collar assholes are horny to catch a vampire breaking the law because you're dying to make us villains, and not because I did anything," Eric spoke up in a much more serious tone that filled Olivia's veins with adrenaline. While he was correct, they didn't have anything that they could prove. He had done plenty, and Olivia had helped. "The DEA has nothing to reasonably warrant a file of that calibre to begin with unless you count prejudice, which last I checked, it's unconstitutional in this country."

It was time to shoot. "So you're going to swallow that, and wash it down with this: once Governor, you are going to approve Eric Northman for a Casino license."

A casino is the golden fucking goose egg, the promised land, the Mecca of money laundering. They answer to the gambling commission which is purposefully underfunded, not the cops. Casinos attract tourists like a flame to moths, employ a shitload of people and bring a lot of revenue for the whole town - not to say, more money in the city's bank account from taxes. They would be too valued to be shut down on a whim. It would take a fucking giant to catch them, and giants are hard to come by - especially when you have a whole decaying, desperate city as a political shield.

He squinted. "How do you even know about that? That license is spoken for." It's promised to Patrick Furman, I can't give it away much less to a vampire, he thought.

She picked up the Casino license negotiation from the Shreveport's Mayor's mind at the Gala, but Patrick Furman… Now, where had she heard that name before?

Eric watched Olivia while holding the biggest grin. He knew a Casino would be the answer to all their prayers. They could launder millions a week, raid-free. It would be the closest anyone could get to actually printing money. "You heard her."

Truman was cornered. Patrick Furman, Patrick Furman… Jackson Hervaux's golf buddy? Wait, that must mean he's a-

"They'll never agree to give one to a vampire."

"The person it's currently promised to isn't exactly human either." He's a werewolf.

"And neither will your daughter be if you keep pussyfooting this deal. Wake up Willa," The girl woke up in a gentle gasp as if she woke up from a bad dream. "So what's it gonna be, Governor?"

They could ask him for his bank password at this point and he would have to comply. They the Governor by the balls.

"What planet do y'all come from?!" Truman adjusted his glasses. "The gaming commission would never give a licence to someone like you."

"Daddy? What's going on?"

Eric told her. "You're fine, love-"

"Men are talking sweetie, you'll-" Truman pressed his lips in rage, furious that Eric replied to his daughter by the same name - daddy.

This pissing contest, while hilarious, was wasting their time. Olivia pressed on. "Half of the Vegas strip is owned by vampires, I'm sure you can explain the precedent to the board."

"Okay, what about the other obvious problem? Licenses can only be granted to American citizens, now you're gonna tell me this guy is just another dude from California?"

"Eric has-"

"A really good fake ID, I'm sure. Just like Willa's," Truman nodded, and his daughter looked straight down at her shoes. "The board does an extremely throughout background check, vampire or not-"

"Pamela," Eric said, looking at Olivia. "Give it to Pamela."

He threw his hands in the air. "Now who the hell is Pamela?"

"Pam Swynford De Beaufort," Liv told him. Pamela? Now that could work.

Truman objected. "Sounds French."

"It's Pamela Ravenscroft, and she was born in San Francisco, 1866. A lot of us change names after, you know..."

But to get such a license, you can't just apply for it at the city hall. Things like these contracts are granted behind closed doors, and if Olivia had learned one thing, it is that this is where the best things happen. She just assumed the place would be less breezy.

"It's political suicide. I do any of what you're asking, I'm useless for the rest of the term. Look, I already agreed on the other thing, okay? I'll speak with the DEA director, and you'll leave Willa alone."

If Olivia was tired of dancing with this guy, Eric was kicking his shoes off entirely. Truman Burrell thought he could negotiate with them and he was about to learn he could not.

The vampire looked at Truman's daughter. "Willa, have you ever seen Peter Pan? Is that still a thing?"

"Uhm, yeah?"

Eric slid his hand from her shoulders to her waist, and when he shot up she let out a blood-curdling scream. Yeah, Olivia wasn't a fan of flying either. He kept going up, and up, and up, and Willa's scream became a thin blanket over the entire compound. Truman's mind was pure, unadulterated fear. He couldn't even form words at the thought of watching his only daughter fall out of the sky and die splattered on the pavement. This is the part where Olivia should feel bad.

She didn't. "We agreed to leave her alone, not alive."

"Fi-fine, I…" And he trailed off, so frozen by fear he couldn't articulate.

"Oh, don't worry about it, he'll wipe her mind later."

"He- what?! He'll do what?!"

"So, do we have our deal, Mr. Burrell?"

The Governor was half crying, half stuttering nonsense while staring at the sky, completely petrified. Olivia didn't want to look up to see what the Viking was doing to the girl up there, but judging by the on and off screams it wasn't pleasant. Liv was just happy he left her down here to do what she did best.

"TRUMAN!" She repeated firmly. "Do we have our deal?!"

"Y-yes! Yes! I'll do it! DEA and Casino, just please don't hurt my daughter!"

"Good." Without looking up, Olivia whistled loudly to get Eric's attention. "Also, word of advice? If you are going to strike against a 1000-year-old vampire Sheriff after taking his boss's money - don't half-ass it, okay? He's far better at this than you."

The vampire landed softly with a trembling Willa. Her hair was all tousled up, and she had black streaks of mascara running down her pale face. She stumbled, unable to get her legs working. Before she could run away, he looked deeply into her eyes. Something stirred inside Olivia.

"Eric, don't -" she told him with a smile she hadn't felt on her face before. "She should remember this one."

He smirked back at her and simply walked away from the girl. He had no use for her anymore. Just like Liv knew all along, she never meant anything to him. Willa dashed to her father's arms - a simple pawn off the board, swallowed by the white King.

It may not feel like it right now, but she just did Willa Burrell a huge favor. Eric walked past Olivia and opened the fire exit door. It was over. They had won - the battle and the war. The whole damn thing. That was the beauty that happened when Olivia and Eric worked together. There was nothing they couldn't do. No Gods, no Kings, no Governors, no enemy too big they couldn't outplay. Truth be told, playing this wicked game together was far more fun than playing alone.

"You people are monsters," the Governor cried with his daughter's face smushed into his chest.

She looked at the pathetic little man one last time. "We know."

The pair walked back into the building, Eric leading her down the dark stairway. It looked less dark now, somehow. Her feet also barely touched the floor. If jumping out of a plane or almost getting hit by a train were an adrenaline rush, this was more like an overdose. She felt light like she floated just like Eric could. The ringing in her ears had stopped. It was silent now. The kind of quiet that happens when there's something powerful and sinister watching you in the woods. The kind that makes bugs and wildlife go quiet in its presence. There was something watching her alright.

From the second he closed those freight elevator doors, his eyes did not leave her. He viewed every inch of her, his ocean blue eyes leaving a trail of goosebumps on her skin. Olivia could imagine a lot, but she never could imagine him looking at her like this. The tremble of the elevator vibrated every cell on her body, but it wasn't what made her knees weak. Eric Northman hoovered two inches away, but it felt too far. His whole body, all of it, was pulling her like a magnet.

Heat rose inside her again, starting in her lower belly and spreading like hellfire, swallowing her whole. Her mouth salivated with the memory of his kiss. His lips on her? She wanted more and more of it. She wanted it everywhere. The darkness that flourished within her whenever he was close, she knew what it was now. And she craved it, just like she craved power, money and… lust. Eric was the vampire embodiment of everything she deeply wanted.

"Cross it," her lips barely parted in a whisper. "Cross the line."

A.N

UGH I AM GOING TO FAINT

All of you have waited so patiently for ALMOST A YEAR, and yes, this IS IT! SOUND THE FUCKING ALARM! IT'S HAPPENINGGGG