In the end, he has to glamor Lancaster before he agrees to arrange a meeting with the girl. Eric had expected this, and all in all it is just as well that the man is reluctant to provide vampires with access to his client.
She has a cell to herself in the tiny Bon Temps jailhouse, and out of deference to her status as guilty till proven innocent, she's been allowed to make the room over into something homier than she must have found it at first. The bed is made up with a quilt and some fluffy pillows. There's a calender taped to the wall, and several stacks of library books in neat piles on the floor.
She's standing with her hands folded in front of her when Eric rounds the corner in the company of the guard. She must have received some advance warning of his visit, because she doesn't look surprised, or wary. She's smiling politely, as though welcoming him into her home. He finds himself wondering what her home looks like. In her bearing there is a curious mixture of dignity and humility, an air of pride and confidence that jars with her obvious lack of wealth or advantage. He finds himself conjuring an image of a gracious home in disrepair, haunted by history and memory, of the girl serving biscuits and sweat tea around a scrubbed wooden table worn satin-smooth by generations of her forebears.
"This is Mr Northman, Sookie," says the guard. "Sid Matt sent him along. You need anything, just holler."
"Thank you, Andy," she says.
There's a scraping noise against the floor behind him. The guard has placed a chair outside the cell for him. The guard walks off, and Eric watches him go before turning back to the girl.
"My name is Eric Northman," he tells her.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr Northman. I'm Sookie Stackhouse. Please have a seat."
She perches on the edge of the bed and crosses her ankles. Eric lowers himself slowly into the chair, adjusting the jacket of his suit. He's glad he wore it, suddenly. Pam says the light grey color brings out his eyes.
"You're a vampire," says the girl after they've looked at each other for a moment.
"How do you know that?" says Eric.
"I can just tell," she says. "Vampires-glow, a little bit. Like an old nightlight with a rundown battery."
Eric laughs. "You can see that? That's extraordinary."
"It is? I don't understand why everyone doesn't see it."
"I'm sure you don't," says Eric. "Miss Stackhouse, I am the Sheriff of Area Five. Do you know what that means?"
"No," she says, "I'm afraid not."
"It means that under normal circumstances-if the American Vampire League had not interfered-I would be responsible for investigating Bill Compton's death."
"Oh," says the girl. Her eyes widen. "You're like a vampire detective."
"Essentially." Eric smiles, and is rewarded with the girl's blush. His smile widens.
"Did you come here to try and glamor me into making a confession?" she says.
Eric arches an eyebrow. "That's an idea."
"It won't work. I can't be glamored."
The other eyebrow flies up to join its mate. "Really. You know this for a fact?"
"Bill tried."
"I'll bet he did." Eric surveys the girl for a long moment, then smiles again. "It doesn't matter. I don't want your confession. I know you didn't kill Bill Compton."
"I didn't, as a matter of fact," says Sookie. "But why are you so sure?"
"I am over a thousand years old, Miss Stackhouse." He watches her eyes widen with satisfaction. "You will rarely find a better judge of human nature than a vampire, especially an old one."
"Then what in the world am I doing here?"
"You're a scapegoat," he tells her. "Most vampires don't care whether you're guilty or not. This trial is nothing more than a public relations stunt for the benefit of the AVL."
"Not just them," says the girl, in a calm voice that surprises him. "I'm surrounded by vultures."
"That you are." Eric smiles. "I'm here to see if I can help."
"Why?" Sookie's expression is unimpressed. Eric finds this irritating, but he can't help respecting her for it.
"Because the real murderer is still at large, and as Sheriff of the area in which Bill Compton resided, I am duty bound to find him."
"What makes you think it's a man?"
"Experience," says Eric. "Why? Do you know who did it?"
"No." She says the word without hesitation, but there's an undercurrent to her tone that Eric picks up on immediately.
"You're sure about that?"
Sookie blinks at him. Her mouth twists. She stares at him for a long moment, then seems to come to a decision.
"Do vampires ever-ever commit suicide?"
It is Eric's turn to blink. "Such a thing is-rare. But not unheard of."
"He wrote me a letter, after I saw him the last time."
"Where is it?"
"Sid Matt has it. He's going to bring it up in the trial tomorrow."
"What does it say?"
"That if I couldn't forgive him and take him back, he was going to go away for good. At the time I didn't think anything of, but ever since then I've-wondered."
There are tears in the girl's eyes. If they were for herself, Eric would find them merely discomfiting, but as they are for her former lover, he recoils from the sight of them.
"Did you love him?" Eric asks her.
"I thought I did," says the girl.
"You sound uncertain."
"It all happened so fast," she says. "I think love-real love-is something you have to grow into, over time." Her face twists. "I don't guess I'll ever find out now."
"What do you mean?"
She gives him a look of frank and bitter amusement. "Just about every vampire in America thinks I'm guilty. What's to stop them coming after me as soon as the trial's over?"
Eric doesn't say what he's thinking, which is that he, and any other vampire, is perfectly capable of tearing the iron bars between them out of the wall and killing her now. Better to let her sleep peacefully while she still can. He makes a mental note to have a word with the human sheriff regarding the girl's security.
"I am glad that your devotion to Compton's memory is not absolute," he says.
"Why?" Sookie wipes at her eyes. "What difference does it make?"
"None, for the trial." He leans forward in his chair and looks into her eyes. "I was looking beyond that. When this is over, I want you to be mine."
He expects her to be shocked. He expects her to sit back in her chair and look at him with wide, fluttering eyes. He expects the delicious blush that spreads over her neck and breast.
He does not expect her to throw her head back and give a full-throated laugh that rings off the walls of the prison.
He frowns. "Did I say something amusing?" he inquires in a cold voice.
"I'm sorry," she says. She clears her throat and assumes a more sober expression. "That makes forty-seven."
"Forty-seven what?"
"Marriage proposals. And offers of protection from vampires. I figure they basically add up to the same thing. They come in the mail every day. I reckon there are lots of folks who want to marry anyone famous, no matter how they got that way."
Eric blinks at her, stunned. He feels, abruptly, ridiculous, and this makes him irritable. "I assure you, Miss Stackhouse, your notoriety holds no particular appeal for me."
The girl seems to realize, from the stiffness of his tone, that he has taken exception to being grouped with the other forty-six imbeciles pestering her for attention. "I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to offend you. This whole thing is just so surreal to me."
"I can imagine," says Eric, relaxing slightly. "If you have better offers-"
"It's not like I take the letters seriously," she says. "Um-why would you want to-? If you don't mind my asking."
"You caught my attention," he says, still feeling out of sorts. This interview isn't going at all the way he'd planned. He's never attempted to articulate his preference for a particular human before. "In the courtroom today, you were very brave. You sat there before a crowd of hostile fools and told the truth without regard to what it would cost you." He forces a blinding smile to his lips, an attempt to conceal the degree to which he is stunned by his own frankness. "And of course, you are extremely attractive. You smell delicious."
He is pleased to find that the girl looks no less stunned. "Well, thank you," she says. "You're not so bad yourself."
"Do you like the suit? Pam says it brings out my eyes."
"It's a nice suit," she agrees. "Um, who's Pam?"
Eric grins. "My progeny. And my partner in several of my businesses. You'd like her, she's very...droll."
"I'm sure I would," says the girl. "Well, I thank you for the honor of your proposal, Mr Northman, but I have to tell you, I don't think it's very likely that I'll live to take you up on it."
"I will see that you do," says Eric, in a serious voice that drops into the bantering tone of their conversation like a stone into water.
"You can't promise that," says the girl, a little wistfully. "Though it's nice of you to say so."
"I can promise it," he says. "I am very old, and very powerful. There are few who would deny me, and they can be got around. If you were mine, no other vampire would touch you, and no human would get the chance."
"You said you wanted to help me," says the girl. "Is this what you meant? You'll help me by staking a claim, so the other vampires back off?"
"I intend to uncover the truth about Bill Compton's murder," he says. "I will do that regardless of whether you choose to yield to me. It is my duty."
"I see. I'll keep that in mind."
"Please do. Perhaps it will give me an advantage over my forty-six rivals."
The girl smiles. Eric decides to end the interview before he says anything he will end up regretting. He stands; the girl rises with him.
"Take care of yourself, Miss Stackhouse," he says. "I will see you again soon."
"You'll let me know? If you find out anything about Bill."
"I will."
He runs from the building, faster than her human eyes can follow. He has matters to attend to, and there isn't a second to waste.