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Back and Forth


I found Daisy and the bear sitting at a table out back. With a large wolf who surged to his feet when he saw me.

"Dead man's with us," Daisy said sharply. The wolf settled his bulk back into his seat as I came up onto the deck. "Tracked us down, Northman?"

"Yes." I didn't elaborate. The wolf's eyes widened at my name. As he was still twitchy, I kept my distance and lounged nonchalantly against a railing. Upwind, of course. No need to suffer his scent. "Any progress?"

"Nope," said the bear, scowling. "Military guy turned out to be a bust."

Sookie and Carter's widow joined us, taking seats at the table. Sookie's face was swept clean and guessing her thoughts was impossible. She was hard to read when she wanted to be, but from her behaviour in the lobby she wasn't thrilled I was here. Liz Carter was as Stan had described her: not easily intimidated. She was even less thrilled with my presence than Sookie, and was not hiding it at all. I preferred that. Better an enemy in the open than a hidden one.

"Where's Thalia?" Sookie asked me.

"Around." Reporting to Stan, so I wasn't bogged down with that task myself. "Any leads on Hector?"

The wolf answered. "Haven't heard hide nor hair of him since last summer."

"We are at a dead-end," I said.

"You might be, vampire," Daisy said, her eyes gleaming with the pun, "but there's other people to ask than Digger."

Digger? That must be the wolf-mountain. The names Weres went by got more bizarre by the decade. Pam had a running bet that she'd be first to find one called Rover.

"Let's try the bar," Pete suggested to his sister. "Folks know you there. Might talk, long as we don't bring the vamps. And if they won't talk…" He nodded at Sookie.

"The bar y'all used to meet at," Sookie said doubtfully. "They welcome humans?"

"Go as Pete's girl," Daisy said dismissively. "It'll be fine."

Sookie did not look pleased at the prospect. I said lightly, "Is the bear not pretty enough for you?"

"Oh sure," she said sarcastically, "that's what I'm worried about. Not getting hurt. Because fake dates are a real laugh a minute. You remember Club Dead."

Yes, I did. Particularly Alcide abandoning her. It would be a poor tactic to suggest the bear might do the same in his hearing, but reminding Sookie how unreliable the two-natured were would not go amiss. Much as I was loathe to bring Quinn up...

"Ah, of course. You've been to the Hair of the Dog. Wasn't there an incident there with the tiger?"

"No, there wasn't," she snapped. "And if you're implying the places Weres hang out are dangerous to my health, maybe we should take a moment to tally up how many times I've come to harm in your bar."

I raised my hands in surrender; a good general knew when to retreat. Pity, I was enjoying the fire in her eyes.

"Well," Liz said, looking curiously between me and Sookie. "Seems you're done here."

The wolf, Digger, cleared his throat. "Just a minute, Liz."

Sookie leaned forward. "You got something for us?"

"Might be another false trail, but this vamp sending photos to the Jackson press" — he cast an apologetic look at the Carter woman — "might be buddies with Velásquez."

"Joseph?" Sookie turned to me. "He's dead and dusted, right?"

"Yes. In February, in the fight for Arkansas," I said carefully. Stan did not want Joseph's near-successful attempt at treason widely known, least of all by the local Weres. A look of understanding passed between me and Sookie.

She turned back to the wolf. "You think Joseph was mixed up in what Hector's doing?"

"Nah, not the killings. But if your vamp was out to make twoeys look bad, he ain't the only one."

"You think Joseph was of the same mind," I put in.

"Oh, that fucker talked the talk, but he didn't walk the walk. Two-faced bastard," he said, turning away to spit on the ground with deliberation. He leaned back in his seat and eye-balled me. "But you put your money where your mouth is, way I hear it. Treated the packs fairly in Oklahoma City."

"So does Texas," I said, careful not to look at Sookie now Oklahoma had been mentioned. That was a can of worms I did not want opened. I looked at the widow instead, dipping my head slightly to her. "If Joseph killed your husband, I doubt he acted with Stan's approval."

"Probably not," she admitted. "Texas has been … generous."

"You were shadowing him," Sookie interrupted, still focused on the mountainous wolf. "Joseph, I mean, and you saw—"

"You in my head, girl?" Digger chided. "Let a man tell his own story."

"Sorry," she said, smiling sheepishly. So it was okay for him to tease her, was it?

Liz spoke up. "You followed him, Digger?"

"I tailed the bastard for a few weeks. This was after Scott died. Last January." The wolf took a pull of his beer, relishing his rapt audience. Sookie wore that distant expression that meant she was inside his head. "One night Velasquez almost gave me the slip. Criss-crossed all over town like a jack-rabbit with a coyote on its tail. Figured something important was going down. Caught up with him at a little place out on I59, near the airport. He met two people there. Couldn't get close enough to see or hear, but I hung around outside and saw a vamp leaving."

Sookie's eyes had closed. When he finished speaking they snapped open and fixed on me.

"Did you get a good look at him?" I asked. They both answered yes. Sookie blushed when Digger turned to look at her in surprise. Ignoring him, I waved her on.

"Digger didn't see the third guy clearly…" She wrinkled her nose, frowned, then shook her head. "The place was dark. But he saw the vamp alright."

"Could it be our friend from Jackson?" I pressed.

"It's possible," she said uncertainly. "He had the right colouring. But he didn't look like any of those mugshots from last night."

"Hm." Not on the databases at all, perhaps. That gave me an idea, a way to identify our mystery vampire and get Sookie alone. If I could persuade her to come with me. "You would recognise this vampire again?" I asked her.

"I'd like another peek, if Digger doesn't mind." She held her hand out to him. "May I? Contact gives me a clearer image."

"No hardship holdin' your hand, darling," he said, smiling at her and enveloping her hand in his meaty paws.

"Hush, you," she said with a giggle and I had to stop my lip from curling. "Close your eyes and think back to that night. Where you were standing, what the weather was like, the scents." She closed her eyes too, her brow wrinkling in concentration as she directed him smoothly. "Now, the door is opening, the vamp is coming out... That's it. Hold it right there."

A few seconds later, she nodded and opened her eyes. "I got it."

"Good," I said, infusing the word with praise. "We have a lead to investigate. Let's leave this woman and her household in peace."

To my irritation, Sookie disappeared into the house I couldn't enter, promising she'd only be a moment. I followed Daisy and her brother to the drive. They got into the car. I waited outside, near the house. I could hear Sookie exercising those Southern manners of hers, thanking the wolf for his help and the widow for her hospitality.

Time and breath I wouldn't waste in her shoes.

But she wasn't me, and the delay gave me time to call Texas. Stan agreed chasing down the most solid lead we had took priority over chaperoning Daisy. He passed the phone to his sheriff, and barked at him to get me whatever I needed. The hapless sheriff asked a few questions and put me on hold. I paced the drive until he came back on the line.

Arrangements made, all I had to do was charm the pants off Sookie. Smirking to myself at that image, I looked round. What was taking the woman? I moved back towards the door.

Sookie's voice was low."…seven, both at once. I understand."

"Yeah, right," a voice sneered. The sullen young woman. "Did you get orphaned and then run out of town?"

"No. But I never had many friends. Folks called me Crazy Sookie and steered clear of me. Even my brother had a hard time with my … difference. Gran was the only one who didn't."

Not a trace of bitterness or anger sounded in Sookie's voice. I was proud of her strength.

"Yeah, yeah," the girl said, irritated. "Be grateful, Brandy. Don't give Aunt Lizzie any trouble. Heard it a hundred times already."

"Uh-huh. I know what it's like to feel you don't belong, Brandy. No boy can fix that."

"What boy? There isn't any boy." The girl answered too quickly; she was lying.

"All I'm saying is don't be so eager to look for love when you have plenty here. You gotta carve out your own life before you can share it with a man."

"That what you did?"

Sookie chuckled ruefully. "Nope. I learnt the hard way."

"Yeah? How long you been with Quinn?"

Outside in the dark where no-one could see me, I pulled a face.

"Oh, not long. I didn't date until I was much older than you. Threw myself into it, made a lot of mistakes. Don't you do the same, Brandy."

"I'll try," the girl said, grudgingly.

"Good. Y'all take care of yourself, you hear." The faint rustle of clothing told me they were hugging, and I moved away before the door opened.

"What took you? Petting the wildlife?" I said, falling into step beside Sookie as she came out.

She looked up from fastening her coat. "Sorry. Just talking to Brandy. That girl has been through a lot."

"Ah. Very noble. A waste, though. The young rarely listen."

She stopped walking and said lightly, "Why don't you let me do things my way, and I'll let you do things yours."

"My way?" I asked, nonplussed. I wasn't in the habit of giving teenage Weres dating advice.

She gave me an uncomfortably shrewd look. "That 'man of the house' stuff."

I blinked and shrugged. "A boy stepping into his father's shoes was common in my time."

"Mm-mm." The corner of her mouth lifted. "For someone who considers all Weres are scum, you were real patient with that kid. And you aren't exactly long on patience. Something hit close to home?"

"No," I said. "He was protecting his womenfolk. I respect that."

"And so you made allowances. Like I just did for Brandy. We all have our little foibles."

"Touché," I conceded, stepping in front of her to open the car door. "After you."

"Baton Rouge? With you?" Sookie nodded towards the witch in the front seat. "What happened to keeping an eye on Daisy for Stan?"

"Thalia can do that. Take the next right," I told the bear, who grunted in acknowledgement. We were almost at the airport.

Sookie folded her arms, irritated and suspicious. "And there's no other way?"

"No."

"Fine," she muttered. "This better not be a trick to get me into Louisiana, Eric. Or so help me, I'll nail your damn coffin shut with you inside it."

Daisy made a choked sound and the bear snickered openly. I ignored them: "That will be difficult. I rest in a bed."

"Then how about I come into your room and—"

"Angling for an invitation to my room, Sookie? You only have to ask."

She huffed at me, and I smirked at her. Before she could hurl another insult the car came to halt. "We're here," said the bear unnecessarily.

Sookie peered at the five-seater Learjet waiting outside the hangar. Her eyes went wide. "Is that our plane?"

"Yes," I said. "Charter flight. So we will be back before dawn."

"Oh," she said quietly. "Fancy. I guess kings don't fly coach."

Of course. She wasn't used to fancy. She'd likely only travelled commercial. Sometimes I forgot how young she was.

One of the pilots met us. Boarding was a simple matter, and soon Sookie and I were seated either side of the narrow aisle, in plush leather seats. The pilot joined his colleague in the cockpit, shutting the door firmly, and we were alone. Finally.

Sookie's dress was giving me ideas I couldn't act on, sadly. Shrugging out of my jacket, I tossed it onto an empty chair and stretched in a way that usually drew admiring looks. Sookie turned away sharply, towards the tiny oval window beside her. I leaned back and began to relax.

Sookie did not. She was sitting stiffly upright, and her heartbeat was raised.

Much as I would like to believe I was the cause of that, I realised something else was bothering her. I asked quietly, "Did you hear something alarming from the pilot?"

She shook her head and whispered, "No. Everything's fine."

It was not. She was sweating slightly, and her scent was souring with the tang of adrenaline. The engines revved, and her hands clenched on the arms of her chair. Ah. What I'd taken for an awe of luxury was fear. This was probably the smallest plane she'd been in.

What she needed was a distraction. When I got to my feet she hissed, "Eric, you shouldn't be walking around."

"Vampire reflexes, remember." I searched the storage lockers and soon found what I needed – the plane was well equipped. Sookie eyed the pad of paper in my hand curiously as I sat back down. "Let's make the most of the flight," I said, opening it and resting it on my knee, pencil at the ready. "The vampire Joseph met with. Describe him."

"Oh." She shook off her surprise. "He was boyish-looking. Round in the face."

I began sketching, holding the pad so she couldn't see it. She strained forward and didn't reacted when the plane began to taxi, the hangar sliding slowly backwards past the windows. "No peeking," I said firmly. "It will muddy your memory. What else?"

"His chin, it had… No, not a cleft. Just a dimple."

We went on that way and I kept the pencil moving slowly over the page, deliberately teasing the process out so I could enjoy the way she bit her lip when she closed her eyes to fish her memory for details, and the way her eyes darted to my bare arms when they were open. When it was about to become obvious I was killing time, I turned the sketch round and admired the certainty with which she corrected it, telling me this detail or that was wrong.

A few adjustments and I showed her it again. "There. A match?"

"Yep, that's our guy." She opened her mouth to say something else, but stopped herself and looked away again. "Oh. Is that Houston down there?"

I leaned over as if to peer out, and discretely sampled her scent. No trace of fear, much sweeter. I settled back in my chair, satisfied. "Lake Charles. Halfway."

"Already? Gosh, time flies." She stared at the sketch on my lap. Not raising her eyes she asked softly, "When did you learn to do that?"

I kept my voice low to match hers. "Before the camera came along. It was the only way to make a likeness."

"Right. I forget sometimes," she said under her breath, and shook her head. The action broke her contemplative mood, and she sat straighter, a frown pinching her eyebrows together. "We could've done this back in Houston. You didn't need to drag me all the way to Baton Rouge."

Her tone was on the edge of accusing. "Your memory is better than a sketch," I said smoothly.

Her eyes narrowed. "It's Digger's memory. I got it second-hand."

"That makes this" — I tapped the drawing — "third-hand. You will be more reliable."

"So why bother to—" She cut herself off, and her face softened. "Oh. You were distracting me."

"I do not like to smell your fear."

She looked down at her feet, and sighed softly. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

"It was nothing." I closed the pad and tossed it on top of my jacket.

Her shoulders lifted again with a bigger sigh, one she let out slowly as if that meant I wouldn't notice it. She put her shoulders back and lifted her head.

"What you did for me when you left … the protection, the guards. I never thanked you." Blue eyes locked on mine, clear and light, the colour of waves under a sun I had almost forgotten. "So I'm doing it now. Thank you, Eric. For everything."

She had spoken those words once before, as we parted on her front porch. I hadn't understood what she meant then. "You already thanked me."

"What? When?" she stuttered.

"The night I found you in Blue."

"Oh." A shutter came down between us and I wished I'd held my tongue. She said briskly, "Well, I needed to say it sober. I appreciate the end result, Eric, whatever your motives were. Seein' as I like bein' alive, and all." She gave me a sharp look. "But I didn't ask you to do it, and I don't owe you for it."

I stiffened. "Did I ask for payment?"

"No," she conceded and then spoilt it by adding grimly, "not yet."

Infuriating woman. I wanted to shake her, but I restricted myself to an icy: "I will not."

"Good. I just want to be clear on that. Because Lord knows, y'all never forget a favour owed."

She was reducing our history to trading favours. My reply was clipped with irritation. "Nor do we forget those we owe favours to, Sookie."

Her eyes widened briefly, and then she nodded in a firm way that told me I'd made yet another error. "I saved your butt enough times, so of course you'd feel obliged to… What about telling Niall I was in Memphis? Do I owe you for that?"

That fucking ring pulsed with heat and I gritted my teeth. Losing my temper in a metal tube thousands of feet in the air was not advisable. I tamped my annoyance down and managed to answer evenly. "No. That one is on the house."

"For real?" She looked sceptical. "Why? Were you watching over me for Niall again? I wouldn't put that past the old goat."

I cracked an almost painful smile. At least she distrusted the 'old goat' as much as she did me. "For real. I had no deal with Niall. "

"So we're even."

"Yes. Even." Once I was calm I said, "You understand how the supernatural world operates better than you did. This is good."

She shrugged and fell silent. After a minute she asked, "Is there anything to drink on this thing?"

I got up to look. "Water, soda, or iced tea."

"Iced tea, please."

I brought it to her, complete with ice and a napkin. After she took a few mouthfuls she noticed I was watching her. "Not joining me?"

"No blood." I deepened my voice and wiggled my eyebrows. "Unless you're offering."

She laughed, and just like that the tension vanished. "Definitely not, Eric."

Time to talk about the summit. I doubted she would admit running to save me like an avenging Valkyrie, but perhaps I could work up to it. I stretched my legs out and linked my hands behind my head. "You handled the Pythoness well in Louisville. Your telepathy is much improved."

She hesitated and shrugged. "Practise makes perfect, I guess."

"Neb was impressed with the way you read Finch too," I said, testing the waters and watching her closely from the corner of my eye.

She shifted before she replied, "Just doing my job."

"One you are good at. But you went beyond what you were hired for." She stiffened. No, now was not the time mention her frantic dash to protect me. I added smoothly, "I am grateful you did."

"You're welcome," she said automatically.

Searching for another compliment, I remembered what she said to the Were girl. "You are earning quite reputation for efficiency. That will carve you a place in our world."

"Well," she drawled, "someone said I should make my life my own." She dropped the playful tone. "And you, buster, were eavesdropping on me and Brandy."

"Perhaps," I admitted, realising I had inadvertently given myself away by echoing her phrasing. She was too sharp to miss that.

"Never let an opportunity pass you by, huh?" Her eyes were still amused, although her tone was dry. "Speaking of opportunities, I wanted to ask you something. Joseph killed Scott Carter, right?"

"Probably. There was no proof, but I believe Stan compensated his widow."

"So Liz said." She wrinkled her nose. "Stan never struck me as the compassionate type. That part of a campaign to win the twoeys over?"

"Yes. Stan believes it is to our benefit."

"Uh-huh. So why did Joseph ask Scott to lay off the Chosen?"

"Ah." I weighed up how much to say. "Stan wanted order. Joseph was to negotiate a truce."

"What was Joseph really up to?" she asked astutely.

"That, as they say, is the million-dollar question."

"Stan doesn't know? Oh." She rolled her eyes. "Guess that's why Joseph got his severance papers."

"If you wish to call it that," I said, smirking. "His neck was certainly severed." The note of the engines changed. "Ah. We are coming in to land."

Sookie tensed and reached for her seatbelt, and I regretted her change in mood.

Marie greeted me with a bow; she was on door duty. "Good evening, your majesty."

"Marie," I replied, nodding.

Sookie looked around the lobby and raised her eyebrows. Again.

She'd done that when we got off the plane and found Goro waiting besides the Brick. When I'd asked if she had a problem with my second, she explained it was the limo that threw her. Not my style, she said. Ruefully, I admitted that practicality limited my choice of vehicle.

In more ways than one. I would have flown her to the house in my arms if there was no chance of being seen.

When Goro eyed my t-shirt and jeans and asked, "Slumming it tonight, dono?" Sookie's eyebrows had flicked up again. Goro winked at her as he held the limo door open. She gave him a gracious thank you nonetheless, missing the glare I gave him over her head.

Her eyebrows had risen again when the house came into view. Grinning, she asked if Russell minded me copycatting his style. Goro had laughed at that. I'd pointed out that a house with walled grounds had more to do with security than a shared taste for antebellum architecture.

This time Sookie was looking askance at the couches in the lobby.

"Pam," I said.

"That explains it. They're…"

"Ostentatious? Old-fashioned? Easily stained?" Those had been my objections.

"Too short for your giant legs," she said, laughing.

Smiling too, I gestured towards the stairs. "Shall we?"

Sanjay was alone in the outer office. He pressed his hands together and bowed deeply. "Your majesty."

When he reached for a stack of letters I warned, "Sanjay, this is a flying visit."

"There are only a dozen, highness."

He held them out. There was a note on top in Geraldine's handwriting. Payback for telling her to absent herself, no doubt. Geraldine understood more of what she witnessed here than she let on, and I hadn't wanted Sookie hearing anything … prejudicial from her mind.

Grimacing, I took the papers from Sanjay, flicking through them as I punched the code into my office door. Waving Sookie towards the couches, I said, "Make yourself comfortable while I deal with these."

"Sure." She took off her coat and slung it over the back of a chair, but when I signed the last letter she was still on her feet, examining the books on the bookcase.

Taking it as a good omen that she was at ease and curious about me, I sat back and appreciated the view. That dress reminded me of the night we met. White and red suited her. She wandered towards the couches, trailing a finger along the edge of a cabinet, those wayward eyebrows twitching when she came to the decanters of alcohol I kept for breathing visitors. She got to the shelves of ornaments that Emmett had insisted I put on display, and stopped by a silver bowl. "I remember this. It used to be in your lounge."

"Yes," I said.

"I like it," she said, as she came over to stand in front of my desk. She waved vaguely at the room. "All of this, I mean. It's modern. Clean, light. Very you."

"My designer will be thrilled."

"Designer?" Her grin was crooked. "Haven't you gone up in the world."

"Oh, yes." I tapped the pile of letters on the desk. "Red carpet treatment wherever I go."

"You poor baby," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. I reached for my laptop and she added, "It's very quiet. For a big house. You don't keep donors here?"

I glanced at her, but her face, like her tone, gave nothing away. "They do not stay past midnight," I answered truthfully.

"Oh. Like Cinderella, huh?" She smiled.

I did not. Talk of donors put me on edge.

Another blonde came uninvited into my mind: the donor who was a pale imitation of the woman before me. The donor who'd stripped off her Halloween costume in the exact spot where Sookie was standing. And I was sitting at the scene of that particular crime, the desk where we'd—

An urgent desire to be elsewhere had me uncoiling from the chair and on my feet in a split second. Fortunately, I had an excuse for the abrupt motion: I needed something from the safe. I strode across the room, halting in front of a small, innocuous painting hanging on the blank wall opposite the seating area. My back to Sookie, I slid the painting aside.

I heard her moving behind me and her voice was closer when it came again. "No twoeys around either? I can't hear any."

"They work the day." Some of the wolves slept here, but I had warned Jephson we were coming. It seemed prudent to have them gone too. I leaned in to present my eye to the scanner.

"Wow," she breathed. "Very James Bond."

Relieved by the change of topic, I flashed her a grin over my shoulder as the safe swung open. "It is, isn't it?"

"I'll say. What's with all the bells and whistles?"

I grabbed what I wanted and nudged the safe closed. Turning, I showed her the flash-drive in my palm and warned: "This is a secret. A dangerous one."

She looked doubtfully at the tiny thing, but nodded firmly enough that I trusted she understood the importance of keeping quiet. "Secret. Gotcha."

Taking my laptop off the desk I had no intention of sitting at, I gestured to the couches. "Let's do this in comfort."

To prove to myself I still had fangs, I deliberately sat on the one I used to drink from Emmett. Guilt over feeding had no place in any vampire's heart. Removing my jacket, I patted the seat beside me. Sookie joined me, leaving a clear space between us.

She was close enough. For now.

I dropped fang, pierced a fingertip and let a single drop of blood fall onto the flash-drive. If anyone used it without my blood, its contents would appear scrambled and meaningless.

Sookie murmured, "Now there's something you don't see James Bond do."

"Oh, I expect Q will catch up with Poppy," I said, snapping my fangs up and the drive open. "Eventually."

"Poppy?" she asked as I plugged the drive into the laptop. "Is that a person or a cat?"

"Pam's witch."

"The one who likes jewellery." Her lips pursed as my fingers blurred over the keyboard. "Your man Jephson had one of those damn necklaces at the summit."

I refrained from smiling at her irritation and said mildly, "He is entitled to some privacy."

"I rather thought it was your privacy he was protecting," she said archly.

"That too." The program opened, and she leaned closer to see it. Her scent surrounded me and her heat radiated against my bare arm. I basked in the simple sensations as I typed in search terms. "This may take a few minutes. The search is glitchy."

She frowned. "It does look a little clunky. Is it some special royal edition?"

"No. Bill's, ah, personal directory." She stared at me, waiting for an explanation. Fuck. I could see where this was going. Discussing Bill was not what I had in mind now we were alone, but I relented. Give a little, gain a little. "Some vampires did not wish to be included in the public version. They offered to pay. Bill built something of a business around that."

"Enterprising of him," she said dryly. "You sound admiring."

"I am. It was enterprising. But risky."

"Fortune favours the bold, I guess." She mused, "That explains all those improvements to his house. Bet he charges premium for a copy."

"There are no copies." I braced myself for the inevitable moment when she worked it out. It didn't take long.

"But you have—" She narrowed her eyes and asked accusingly: "How did you get this?"

My jaw tightened. "I am his king."

"You stole it," she said, disgusted. "And Bill can't do a thing about it."

"I did him a favour," I said sharply. "When I said risky I meant it, Sookie. This" — I gestured at the list that was gradually filling the screen — "is a gallery of rogues, assassins and thugs. Sooner or later one of them would have discovered its existence and taken it from him."

"Over his finally dead body."

"Yes."

"So you took it first." She sighed. "If it's so dangerous, how did you even know about it? No way Bill would've told you."

"Karin."

"Oh." She pulled a face and stared into space for a moment. Then she cursed under her breath and nodded at the laptop. "If any of them find out you've got this, they'll blame Bill for selling them out. And by blame, I mean hunt him down and end him."

"Very good," I said. "You think like a vampire."

"That's not the compliment you think it is," she said darkly. "Did you even pay Bill for it?"

"We made a deal. I get this, he gets to survive."

"How generous," she said, snorting. "What if one of these fine, upstanding vampire citizens comes after him?"

"He swore fealty. I owe him protection if he asks it."

"What if he doesn't ask in time? Bon Temps is not exactly vamp central."

I shrugged. "He would be safer in Shreveport or New Orleans. He opted to stay put."

"I wonder why," she said sarcastically. I suspected we both knew the answer: Bill would rather not be under my scrutiny.

"I wonder too," I said lightly, leaning back against the couch. "I wonder why Bill is so attached to such a one-horse town."

We both knew that too: Sookie.

"One stop-light," she corrected. Her tone turned teasing. "Geez, Eric, get with this century. Even a backwater like Bon Temps has cars."

I smirked. "I wouldn't call that piece of scrap you used to drive a car."

"Oh, hush. It ran just fine." She nudged my arm with hers, and I held still as a bolt of lust out of all proportion to the slight contact flooded my blood. It left my fangs tingling when it ebbed.

Sookie, perhaps sensing something from my stillness, cleared her throat and gestured at the screen. "C'mon. Let's cherchez le vamp."

"Oh dear," she said, staring at the face on the screen. "Well, Gilbert Boucher isn't our guy."

"No," I said, smirking. "He isn't."

Boucher had a nose like a squashed turnip.

His photo may have been unflattering, but at least his entry had one. These vampires were, for obvious reasons, camera-shy. The few photos we'd come across appeared to be taken from security footage. Grainy black-and-white stills shot at awkward angles. As much use as a trapdoor in a canoe, as Sookie put it.

Boucher's was the eleventh entry we'd looked at, and Sookie had inched closer as we scoured the possible matches. Tilting her head to contemplate his nose, she inadvertently brushed her arm against mine. I shivered imperceptibly as a delightful frisson ran from her touch up to my shoulder.

"Shouldn't that be listed under distinguishing features?" she murmured.

"Maybe it is," I said, scrolling down to the relevant section and purposely letting my elbow rub against hers. Another thrill tingled its way up my arm. She didn't break the contact as I skimmed Bill's painstakingly coded description.

"Ah. The unfortunate Gilbert only has one arm. Bill thought that was more noteworthy." I scrolled back to the photo. "Hm. I find I do not agree."

"Me either," she squeaked, pressing her lips together to stifle a giggle.

It was good to hear her laugh. I was hard pressed to say which I enjoyed more: the casual touches or her giggles.

The next entry didn't have a photo. It had a sketch. Sookie squinted at it and groaned, the vibration echoing through me. "When I find out who in the hell told Bill he could draw," she drawled, "I'm gonna introduce them to the business end of a shotgun."

I kept my face straight with an effort. "Cameras were around when he turned. He has not had the need or the centuries to practise that I have."

"Please," she said indignantly, waving at the screen. "If the police used Picasso here as an artist they'd never arrest anyone."

"He's not that bad. He has some artistic talent," I said, starting to laugh.

"What for — making copies?" She slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Of course. That's it," I got out between chuckles. "He's the next Andy Warhol."

Sookie batted at my arm with her free hand and bent over, her shoulders shaking with muffled laughter and her hair tumbling around her face. My fingers itched to brush it aside. Her thigh pressed against mine, and when I pressed back, again she didn't withdraw. I put the laptop to one side, my own laughter dying.

Mirth was a welcome distraction, but not enough of one. I let my fangs drop.

Sookie's laughter subsided and she sat up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. Snake fast, I shot out a hand and caught her wrist, pulling it out of the way. I wanted to see her eyes. She gasped as I swept her hair back with my other hand.

Her eyes were that translucent sea blue again, wide and still shining with laughter as they locked on mine. My fingers lingered over her ear, then slid cautiously down her neck and under the softness of her hair, to curl around her nape. The heat of her soaked into my hand and I tugged her gently but insistently forwards. I leaned in, the pulse in her trapped wrist pounding against my fingertips. My lips parted, almost touching hers, and I tasted her breath on my tongue.

A hand pressed hard against my chest.

"No."

I froze, stunned, the quiet word more piercing than any stake.

In disbelief, I pulled back, her hair slipping through my fingers as my hand fell away from her neck. I let go of her wrist when she tugged at my grip. As soon as she was free, she scrambled to her feet and stood there poised to bolt, both hands clenched.

It was an effort to lean back against the couch, to relax the hands that ached to snatch her back, to wait for her to speak. The storm in her eyes calmed and became determination. She took a deep breath.

"Look Eric, I'm not here to fool around."

I opened my mouth to argue, but she held up her hand.

"I know we were laughing and all." Her eyes darted to the couch and back to me. "I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea, but it's not happening. Not while I'm with someone else."

Disbelief became confusion. I had kissed her several times when she was with another, and not once had she stopped me before our lips even met. As neutrally as only a vampire could I said, "That has never stopped you kissing me before."

"No kissing. No anything." she said firmly.

A voice too like Ocella's whispered: You think it was just you? She kissed the shifter while you were together. You are just one of many. The tiger is the exception.

"Why now? Is what you have with Quinn that different?" That was less neutral, and I may have sneered.

"No," she said firmly. "I'm different."

"Explain."

Her smile was crooked. "I grew up, Eric. Plain and simple."

She ran a hand through her hair and sat down, leaving an arm's length between us. I wanted to growl at the distance. My fortunes with this woman reversed more quickly than the tide of battle. Advance two steps, retreat three.

"Getting married, making those vows before God," she continued slowly, "it taught me to think about commitment. Really think, get my priorities straight. I went three years without kissing anyone but Sam. I'm proud of that."

"You want that commitment again." With Quinn. The throb of heat from the signet ring warned me to leave his name unsaid if I wanted to keep any dignity. It would come out as a growl.

"Yes. That … loyalty. You value loyalty, don't you?" I nodded, stiff and unwilling. She looked at me soberly. "You value that about me. So do I. If I'm loyal, it can't just disappear when it's to your advantage, Eric."

I couldn't summon a rebuttal that made sense. "I … see."

She smiled wryly. "I don't think you do. I'm not the same girl I was, Eric. The way I behaved in the past around y'all was … immature. Too immature for a woman in her twenties." Her eyes became distant and she whispered, "I see that now."

"Now?" I asked, curiosity overriding sense.

The question made her hesitate. She looked down at her hands, swallowing before she answered. "Brandy. Losing her father tore her up. She has a hole inside her, and a hunger to fill it, any which way she can. It'll drive her into the arms of the first man to pay her any mind. Then the next, and the next. Until she wakes up to what she's doing." She looked up. "I recognise that."

"Ah."

"You don't," she said shrewdly. "Guess you never had to step into your father's shoes."

Other boys in the village lost fathers, but I was spared that, and Ocella was never quite the father figure he wished to be. "No," I confirmed. "Only my brother's."

"Not the same," she said softly.

"It is not," I agreed, searching her face for a pain I had missed. Not the pain of Bill's crimes, not the pain Neave and Lochlan inflicted, those I had seen. One hidden deep, under her strength.

One corner of her mouth hitched up, and she said self-depreciatingly, "Better to know yourself, right?"

"Yes. Know the enemy but not yourself, and every battle ends in defeat," I said, paraphrasing the Art of War.

I reached out cautiously, and when she held still, I laid my hand over hers. In the silence, I ruthlessly buried the bitter taste of rejection and all the questions forming about what she had revealed. I would examine that later. When I was alone.

Finally, Sookie cleared her throat and patted my hand. I withdrew. "We're … good?"

I nodded.

She indicated the discarded laptop. "So… We should finish up. Many more?"

Hating her hesitation, I retrieved it and examined the list. "Another dozen. I'll narrow it down."

That way I could avoid the lingering awkwardness.

Sookie waited silently while I flicked through the entries at vampire speed. I stopped at the seventh, a free-lance assassin and thief. No photo, or even a sketch, but the height, build, hair, and eye colour all fitted. And he was described as 'baby-faced'. I went through the last five to be sure, but he was the best match. Unfortunately, the entry gave no age, country of origin, or full name. All Bill had was an alias, Lance, and last known location, California.

A cautious vampire, then. That fit. Our brown-eyed friend from Jackson had been careful to cover his tracks. And California… I smelt a caped rat at the heart of this conspiracy.

Leaving de Castro out of it, I explained what I'd found.

"Great," Sookie said, sighing. "We can't be sure it's the same guy without a photo. Where do we go from here?"

I went to the jacket I'd left by the desk and retrieved the sketch I'd made on the plane. "Time to phone a friend."

"Miss Stackhouse. What a pleasure to see you at Eric's side."

The first words out of Bartlett's mouth when he appeared on the screen caught Sookie off-guard and she stammered, blushing. A brief conversation and one fax later, and Bartlett was sending my sketch westwards, to his contacts in Narayana. Tezcatlipoca included, given Bartlett had some connection with the king of New Mexico. With technology and time zones on our side, he hoped to have a positive identification by tomorrow night.

"I'll keep Stan and Russell in the loop," Bartlett said as we ended the call, "as you'll be tied up travelling back to Houston." From the glance he gave Sookie, he was imagining a far more convivial flight than I was.

Sookie managed a few strained smiles in the limo, but she hardly spoke. By the time we got on the plane, she was yawning repeatedly. She asked for water and a blanket, and fell asleep not long after take-off. I turned the lights down. Her scent filled the cabin, and listening to her soft breathing was both comforting and bittersweet. I alternated between staring at her and the ceiling, thinking. My phone rang, inside the jacket I hadn't bothered to take off. It was Pam.

If she had told me Sookie was calling my name in that bar a year ago, I would have beaten the tiger to the punch and—

I hissed in annoyance when the signet ring pulsed with heat. Sookie stirred in her sleep. Fuck. The last thing I needed was her waking up and asking why I still had my cell on me. The way my luck was going, she would work out I'd bullshitted her over that just so she would carry the phone I gave her and leave the one Quinn knew about behind.

She might do worse than nail me inside a coffin if she worked that out.

I answered the phone tersely. "What news on the crime scene photos?"

"Fuck all," Pam said immediately. "Heidi drew a blank, but that means nothing as our pastor was knocking at heaven's door begging to be let in three months ago. Anyone with a half a brain could have got those photos any time since then, and their scent would be long gone."

"Maxwell?"

"The opposite problem. At least a dozen of Shreveport's finest wouldn't piss on our furry friends if they were on fire. Any of one of them could have leaked those photos for the price of a doughnut."

I cursed softly.

"Quite. Maxwell is pissed I forbade him from messing with them. He wanted to glamour them to guzzle laxatives, but it's fortunate he didn't. The FBI have turned up. They're asking the local cops a lot of astute questions."

"They were bound to get involved as soon as the murders were linked. How is the press coverage?"

"Indira has it covered." She chuckled. "She made an ally of Alcide's wife, and between the two of them they persuaded him to give a TV interview."

"That is amusing?"

"Yes. He hates wearing a suit. Check your email, I sent you a copy. I'll keep you informed." She hung up.

As I slipped my phone away I looked over at Sookie. The signet ring began to warm steadily. Fuck. It wasn't Pam I was furious with. I could have approached Sookie a year ago. Why had I been so determined to walk away from her?

I was a fucking idiot, and now it was too late. She would marry the tiger. Have his cubs.

The ring glowed dull red, searing my finger. With a growl, I pulled it off and tossed it into Sookie's glass of water, which began to steam. Something fell over with a thud and the plane juddered violently, the fixtures rattling. The smell of burnt flesh hit me as an alarm went off in the cockpit.

Shit. I snatched up the glass, fished the ring out, and rammed it back on as the pilot announced a patch of turbulence. As the rattling died away, Sookie stirred and rubbed her eyes.

"What's going on?" she mumbled. "Why do I smell barbecue?"

I hushed her, tucking the blanket around her shoulders. Her eyes drifted closed, and I looked around. Everything was quiet except the pilots, who were puzzling over what had happened.

I spent the rest of the flight keeping ruthlessly calm by playing mindless games on my cell.

Sookie fished a key-card out of her coat and unlocked her door. She stood awkwardly in front of it, pale and tired and hunting for something to say.

I spared her the effort. "Goodnight, Sookie."

"Night, Eric," she said quietly and slipped inside.

A short time later, Thalia arrived at my room. I raised an eyebrow at her ruddy face and she shrugged. Apparently, Stan had tasty donors. She reported that Daisy had struck out at the bar, and she and her brother had turned in hours ago. Thalia had done some investigating of her own since then, but she came back empty-handed. No leads on Hector's whereabouts.

After she left, I checked email to kill time, including the drop-box Yasmin used. One sentence stood out amongst the chatter: Next door's tomcat is spraying the garden again, and uncle is planning revenge.

Bardulf was after Quinn.

To warn Sookie, or not? That was the question. Unless Quinn had been a very stupid kitty, I was sure Bardulf was removing him to get to her. So I should warn her. Fuck. I rubbed my face. I really did not want to be responsible for saving the tiger's neck, but it looked like I might have to. Even the Pythoness thought he deserved whatever he had coming.

The Pythoness, her words… Don't fight the tide. A wise man waits for it to turn.

Fuck. I was an idiot. The tide turning against Quinn was too enticing. I had focused on that and missed the warning meant for me.

A wise man waits. He waits.

I had seen that video of Sookie and, like a fool, I had rushed in.


...

A/N: So... Yeah. That happened. Throw as many tomatoes as you want!

Ages ago, a reviewer said how much they didn't like Sookie letting everybody kiss her in the books. I almost spoilt this chapter by telling them how much I agreed, and that I had this planned. So, whoever it was, hope you like Sookie being less passive and more committed to the relationship she's in - even if it is with Quinn.