Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OCs, and most of them are heavily inspired by mythology.


"There are times to stay put, and what you want will come to you, and there are times to go out into the world and find such a thing for yourself."

Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid, Lemony Snicket


The Plantation house had been left mercifully un-vandalized, and Loki had bounded inside (after promising to call Sookie soon) with her bag of luggage. Pulling on some jeans – much better suited for fighting than a skirt – and grabbing a book on Greek Mythology, she snatched her car keys up from the kitchen table and practically vaulted into her Mustang.

Now, Loki pulls up in Lafayette's driveway with a screech of tires over asphalt. It's only a matter of moments before her friend is stepping out onto his porch, shot-gun in hand – the fry-cook relaxes visibly at seeing her.

'Lafayette!' She bounds over, wrapping him into a brief, warm embrace.

'Shit, hooka,' he breathes, pulling back to look her in the eye, 'I ain't never been so happy to see a woman before.'

The crack makes her grin. 'Too much information, Lala.'

'Lafayette!' The call breaks up the moment of light-heartedness, and the pair turn to see Tara's mother stumbling over. It's the first time Loki's ever seen Mrs Thornton sober, but the woman looks ready to collapse in exhaustion and stress. 'Who's 'dat?'

Lafayette rolls his eyes – he's introduced the two women at least twice before – but he throws a muscled arm over Loki's shoulder. 'This is the only bitch who has a hope in all hell of fixing this shit-storm.'

It's a little heart-warming for someone to have so much faith in her, but still: 'Why don't you tell me what the fuck is actually happening first.'

Sat on the rickety lawn chairs of the porch, Lafayette tells her about Maryann: about the bruises that Tara had come into Merlotte's covered in and her crazy party lifestyle; about how, when he and Lettie-Mae had gone to confront her, Tara and her boyfriend's eyes had turned black.

'She keeps chantin' some shit – sounds like Greek or something – and she talks 'bout some God who'll come and kill us all.' Lafayette tells her looking uneasy at the admission.

'It's my fault,' Lettie-Mae interjects, teary-eyed, 'if I hadn't left such a hole in this girl, maybe whatever's in there wouldn't have crawled in.'

On the whole, people like Tara who have stubborn, angry dispositions are actually harder to manipulate with magic – but Loki doesn't voice the thought. 'Can I see her?'

Lafayette nods warily, leading her into the living room of his bungalow where Tara is tied to a chair in the centre of the room. The bartender is tense, jaw clenched and eyes the colour of tar. Loki moves over slowly and kneels before her, placing her hands on the woman's temples.

'Tara, can you hear me?'

'Fuck you, you fuckin' cunt. Get your bitch hands off'fa me.' The words tumble out in a rush – Loki ignores the profanity, narrowing her eyes in concentration. The weight on Tara's consciousness is similar to that which will hang off a glamoured human, suffocating the personality under the pressure to do as ordered. But it's much more than that, too – it's such a complete thrall that the aspects that make her "Tara" are completely suppressed.

'I can fix it,' Loki announces evenly, ignoring Lettie-Mae's emphatic "thank you, Jesus", 'but it'll take a while. And…' She wavers, eyes flicking between aunt and nephew. 'You can't tell anyone that I had a part in this.'

'As long as my cousin comes back you can take over the fuckin' house.' Lafayette tells her, his relief palpable in his voice. His voice softens as he continues. 'And we won't tell no-one, a'aight?'

The black-haired woman breathes out a sigh of relief.

But Tara, seemingly at least aware enough to protest, thrashes in her seat. Only when the Æsir mage guides their foreheads together with a firm hand does she still, and Loki tumbles into Tara's mind.

It's so dark that, for a moment, Loki thinks she's gone blind, but then she registers the echoing chant ringing about the void like a church organ. She shivers at the haunting sound, but settles cross-legged in the darkness. It would be simple to simply get rid of the foreign influence – a matter of merely purging the mind with Loki's magic – but that would surely erase the memories of the possession entirely. Lafayette had described the black-outs that people all over town had been complaining of for the past few days, and the way Loki saw it Tara at least deserved to know what she had been doing with herself under the thrall.

So the Æsir mage builds her power in her chest, filling herself with magic until the air around her lights up and chases back the shadows in Tara's head. Inch by reluctant inch Loki expands the sphere of magic, forcing everything "Maryann" to retreat. It's a long and careful process – if she falters just once the chaos will flood back in like water pushing through a broken dam – but Loki remains steadfast, and when the last of the darkness is pushed out she dismisses her magic and finds herself sitting on the floor of a room so glaringly white it burns to look at.

Tara is huddled in the corner, naked and shaking as she presses her forehead to her bent knees, and the bartender glances up shakily. 'Vick?'

'It's okay, Tara,' she assures gently, 'you can rest now.'

Loki blinks back into the waking world and tumbles back onto her backside, a little dizzy after the prolonged expenditure of power. Lettie-Mae and Lafayette both leap to their feet, obviously anxious, and the Æsir mage notes that sunlight is no longer streaming through the windows.

'She's fine,' she tells them, a little out of breath, 'just let her sleep awhile – it'll give her mind time to organise itself.'

Tara's mother begins to cry softly, murmuring a prayer between gasps, and Lafayette bounds over to scoop her into a hug – despite her fatigue, Loki laughs at being lifted and spun like a doll. 'Thanks, Tori.'

'Anytime, Lala.' She takes a moment to relish in the comfort of the hug, because the past five days have been a bit of a rollercoaster, but by the time her friend sets her back on her feet she is back to her old self. 'Did I miss anything?'

'Sook called,' he informs her, moving towards the kitchen and wordlessly pouring her a glass of water, 'she an' her boyfriend are comin' over to see Tara.'

'Right.' No doubt the silly fairy has gotten herself into some sort of trouble in the time we've been apart – the thought can't be called cynical when it's so realistic.

Loki collapses onto Lafayette's couch, watching as the fry-cook unties his cousin from her bonds and gently carries her to his bedroom to lie down. Through the beaded curtain that separates the room from the lounge, she can see her friend and Lettie-Mae tucking the bartender tenderly under the quilt.

'What's the girl's name?' Mrs. Thornton's voice carries clear as day through the little house. 'I should pray for her.'

'Victoria Storm. But I don't think she Christian.'

Loki wants to giggle at the awkward silence that rings through the house at the declaration. 'Oh.' Lettie-Mae hesitates. 'Then I'll pray for her immortal soul.'

When Lafayette rejoins her in the living room, the pair share supremely bemused looks.

xXx

It's an hour to sunrise when there is a knock on the door, and Loki's head snaps round sharply, jumping to her feet with such speed that it makes Lafayette freeze in his step towards it.

'That's not Sookie.' She informs him gravely, and he pales dramatically. Very carefully, the Æsir mage approaches the door with her friend at her back, ready to lash out against a possible attack. The knock sounds again and she immediately snaps the door wide open... but her blank mask falls into a frown aimed at the plain-Jane brunette standing before her.

The girl offers her a peppy grin. 'Hey. How's it going?'

It's not an exaggeration to say that Loki is rather baffled by the casual greeting – did the girl not notice that the whole town is post-Apocalyptic? – but, behind her, the fry-cook huffs in exasperation.

'Never been better in my whole goddamn life.' He answers dryly. 'Come back later.' But when he goes to slam the door, she halts it with a palm – Loki's eyebrows shoot up.

'There's no such thing as later during finals week. Calc so blows.'

'What the fuck?' Is the Æsir mage's contribution. Shoulder's tense, Lafayette hustles the two of them out onto the porch before rounding on the teenager with his arms crossed sternly.

'I ain't selling tonight, Cream Cheese. Okay?'

'Selling?' A cold feeling settles in Loki's gut.

'Come on,' "Cream Cheese" whines, ignoring the byplay completely, 'I'll pay extra.'

'You ain't hearing me.' He says, aggravated, and the girl scowls heavily.

'Well, I ain't leaving till I get the V.'

Her jaw locks before she can grind her teeth in rage, but Bill's sudden appearance behind the girl makes both humans on the porch jolt in shock. The brunette stares at the vampire's fangs in utter terror, and he puts on a show of looking as menacing as possible.

'Oh, you are leaving.'

She leaves running. And Bill turns his steely gaze on Lafayette before taking a threatening step closer – Loki brings a hand to the vampire's chest.

'I suggest you step back, Mr Compton.' He sneers down at her, unmoving, and after a moment she takes it as an invitation to make him move. An average human being trying such a thing wouldn't even make him falter, but Loki is not average (or human at all) so he stumbles back a few feet.

'This is vampire business, Mage.' Well, Mr Compton is very clear in his opinion of her after certain revelations, at least. It's a bit of a surprise that a 200-year-old vampire even knows of mortal mages considering how rare they are, but he is clearly not as learned as he thinks he is.

Vampires are wary of mages for good reason.

But Lafayette buts in before it can descend into an episode of Asshole Smackdown™ - Vampire Edition. 'Cool your jets. Talk to your boy, Eric. He the one got me pushing the shit.'

'What?' Vampire and Æsir mage snarl in perfect unison, pinning the fry-cook in place with their eyes – one pair angry, the other shocked. Loki's head reels in surprise, because a Sheriff selling V? That is a big no-no in the vamp community. But then Loki shakes her head because why the fuck is she worrying about Eric when he is making her friend sell drugs – the reason he locked Lafayette in a basement for two weeks. Just because they have some sort of weird connection over the Viking's maker doesn't mean that she'll just overlook all his wrong-doings, and this must be some sort of side-effect of their unfortunate blood-bond, and...

'Vick!'

...Loki is steamrolled by a tiny blonde telepath. Huh. She really should pay more attention to her surroundings. 'Hey, Sookie.'

'Where's Tara? Is she okay? Are you okay?' Oblivious to the previous tension in the air, the part-fae babbles on. 'Maryann is the thing that attacked me before! And the bitch took over my house, and she's the one behind this whole mess, and Bill tried to bite her but it just made him sick. Hey, Lafayette!'

The fry-cook looks bemusedly down at his life-long friend. 'Hey Sook. You can come on in.'

The blonde bustles into Lafayette's house, still rapidly firing questions this way and that, but Loki and Bill remain on the porch, caught in a deadlock stare.

'I don't like you.' She informs him after a long moment, and he sniffs haughtily.

'The sentiment is mutual.'

'And if you ever threaten my friend again I will drag you into the midday sun.'

'Fine. But I will get to the bottom of why he is sellin' V.'

'Fine. Man, Sookie could do so much better than you.'

'And you and Eric deserve each other.' Is the venomous reply.

'...Touché.'

And thus, a reluctant, unspoken truce is born. They both relax marginally.

'Maryann is a maenad.' Loki figures it's best to just throw it out there (especially when with someone who, she suspects, has a rather extensive knowledge of the supernatural) and Bill stiffens. She can see him processing her words, weighing them, and the truth lights a fire in his eyes.

'A maenad.' He breathes, obviously not have even considered it. 'Well...'

'Yeah,' the Æsir mage smirks minutely, 'no wonder you look like shit. Can't imagine the bitch was tasty.'

And the death-glare has returned. But Bill shakes off his annoyance with all the mastery of a politician. 'I will need to speak with the Queen about it.'

Yuck. Loki has heard nothing altogether kind about Sophie-Anne. But she merely quirks a brow and turns to go inside the house. 'Well, good luck with that.'

Just as she steps over the threshold Tara's voice rings out from the bedroom, and Loki hums in anticipation. This whole "settling down" malarkey is more exciting than the last decade of her life put together, and she can't say she doesn't enjoy it.

xXx

'She okay?' Loki questions a tired-looking Lafayette as he joins her on the porch. Tara had woken to mild hysteria in the revelation of her memories, and had started freaking out because her boyfriend was still under Maryann's control. It's taking the combined efforts of Sookie, Lafayette and Lettie-Mae to stop the bartender from running straight back into the maenad's hands, and, as someone who barely knows Tara, the Æsir mage has taken to hiding out on the front porch to avoid interfering.

'She the same.' Lafayette draws a cigarette from behind his ear and lights it, clearly agitated by the idea of his cousin going back into danger so willingly. 'Wants to go back to the man who beats her.'

'To be fair, I'm pretty sure he did that when under Maryann's thrall.' Loki comments, missing the irritated look her friend shoots her in response. Then, after a moment, she straightens from her position leant against the house. 'I think I'm gonna go.'

'What the fuck?' The fry-cook blurts, tossing the butt aside. 'Why?'

'Lafayette,' she keeps her tone soothing, 'I'm the only person in this town who has a leg-up on Maryann – I've never even met her – and we know she's looking for Sam.'

'Well, maybe he left town like he was plannin'.' He pushes stubbornly. Grabbing her keys from the rickety lawn table, Loki scoffs.

'He wouldn't – Bon Temps is his home; y'all are his family. No way would he leave you to deal with this mess by himself.' Lafayette's face softens at the sentiment, and the black-haired woman knows he sees where she's coming from, so she reaches up to press a kiss to the apple of his cheek. 'I don't want him to think he's alone in this, Lala – but I'll see you again before this is over.'

Loki bounds towards her car, but halts at her friends voice. 'We're gonna beat this thing, right?'

'Course we are,' she calls without looking at him as the engine starts with a purr, 'this is my home too, and I'm not gonna let her take it!'

The Mustang spins out of the drive in a cloud of dust from the dirt road, and Loki allows herself to glance back at her friend – her best friend – just once before her brain shifts gears. It has been decades since she has had such a large circle of people to care about, and protecting them all is not easy, but she knows that she has to try.

This is home, now. (It's been a long, long time since she's had one of those either.) Serial killers and hate crime are the authority of the humans – maenads and vampires and telepaths? This is what Loki knows.

And as her car navigates the familiar roads of Bon Temps, she knows where she needs to go – even if she didn't have the trace of her own magic from the bracelet she'd gifted to Sam tugging her in the right direction – because of course he's at Merlotte's. Her boss, if nothing else, tends to be a creature of habit.

The bar is looking a little worse for wear, trash littering the otherwise empty parking lot and one or two signs of damage to the exterior of the building. Loki hopes that nothing is permanently broken – because she really does enjoy working here – but from the corner of her eye she spots Jason's distinctive truck parked in the bushes and knows that the older Stackhouse will have at least protected Sam.

'Seriously?' Jason's voice greets her as she steps silently into Merlotte's, full of interest. 'You can become any animal anytime?'

Well, it seems the dog is out of the bag on that one.

'Yeah, as long as I've imprinted on it.' Sam responds nervously, but the blonde man huffs in excitement.

'That is fuckin' cool, man.'

'Yeah, well, as cool as that may be,' Andy Bellefleur cuts in gruffly – and seriously, when did he get involved? For the moment, Loki shrugs it off as a question for another time and waits for someone to notice her presence in the bar. 'We still got a maenad we gotta deal with before it takes our wholes town out.'

'Listen, you can't deal with it.' Sam tells them impatiently. 'All right, your best bet's to leave while you still can.'

'Sam's right.' The Æsir mage cuts in, ignoring the way all three of them jump into defensive positions and spin to face her, wide-eyed. 'You should head to Lafayette's – that's where Sookie and Tara and her mother are hiding out.'

'Vick, what the fuck?'

'When the hell did you get here?'

Jason's the one who recovers first, though, jutting his chin out stubbornly. 'I ain't just hidin'. Shouldn't we think about getting the law involved?'

Andy scowls at the younger man. 'I am involved.'

'Well, I meant Sheriff Dearborne, Kenya, that other guy, the squirrelly one.'

'Sheriff's station was wide open and empty.' The alcoholic cop informs them. 'They ain't gonna help.'

'Seriously,' Loki moves to stand at her boss's side, 'you guys should lay low.'

'No, we have got to be the law.' The black-haired woman rolls her eyes. 'Guys, I read a book about this. This is Armageddon. This is the Oral History of the Zombie War. We need weapons, lots of them.'

'This is not Armageddon.'

'Vick's right.' Sam nods his head – finally! Someone's talking sense! 'I hate to break it to you, but guns aren't gonna do jack shit to Maryann. And you can't shoot anybody else – these are our friends, this is our town.'

'Well, sometimes you need to destroy somethin' to save it.' Jason tells them, and Loki starts a little because that is almost... wise. 'That's in the Bible. Or the Constitution.' And he ruined it. Jason Stackhouse is a mess of highs and lows in her eyes – it's dizzying.

They all tense when there is an audible whisper outside, and they snap about to see the retreating forms of two children running away from one of the frosted windows of the bar. Sam bolts off after them, and Andy moves to grab his gun from his holster, but she halts him with a hand on his arm.

'It's just Arlene's kids.' Loki tells him, and he relaxes marginally, then squints at her.

'Who are you, again?'

Jason answers before she can, absentmindedly checking around the bar for weapons. 'Vick's cool. Was in Dallas with me an' Sook.' The blonde grabs a nail-gun from the bar-top, jerking his head towards the door. 'Come on, Andy, we gotta move.'

'We are?' Andy interjects.

'We gotta raid the Sheriff's office.'

'Stackhouse, you've got to think about this,' the Æsir mage steps closer with a frown, 'Maryann is easily ten-thousand years old. This is... way beyond you.' She is marginally satisfied when Andy blanches a little at the estimate, but Jason's face is fixed with determination.

'I can't just do nothin',' he declares, 'I gotta try.'

If it were anyone else, Loki would likely roll her eyes and declare him a complete fool – but a glance into his brain reveals a different truth. He feels guilty for joining the Fellowship (there is a flicker of Luke McDonalds face that sends churns through Loki's own gut); feels like he has done nothing but screw up recently. This fight – saving Bon Temps – is Jason's atonement, and because she respects that (because she understands guilt so well herself) she backs down.

'Be careful.' Is her input on the matter, and both men nod at her before racing out the doors of the bar, and Loki only has a second or two to herself before Sam and the children bustle back in and the bar-owner hustles them into a booth.

'Right kids,' Sam announces with a forcibly calm smile, 'I'm gonna make y'all some lunch – behave for Ms Storm, ya hear?' He beckons the Æsir mage over. 'She works with your momma. Vick,' he leans closer to add a quiet: 'just watch 'em while I sort of some food.'

Uneasily, Loki seats herself opposite the children with a stiff nod. Despite hearing a lot about them from Arlene, she has never met Coby and Lisa before – in fact, she kind of goes out of her way to avoid young kids these days.

But she pushes down the boiling memories of Fenrir and favours them with a wavering smile. The children are admittedly cute, still gangly in their youth and looking ruffled in the adorably messy way only kids can be. But little, freckled Lisa is trembling softly in her hunger, and Coby looks ready to throw himself over his sister to protect her at any moment – acting cold now will only frighten them more.

'Hey.' Loki gives a lame little wave. 'I'm Victoria – you must be Coby and Lisa.'

The boy narrows his eyes. 'How'd you know our names?' There is suspicion on his young face, but Loki can hardly blame him for it, so she doesn't even blink.

'Oh, Arlene never stops talking about you guys,' they exchange surprised looks she pretends not to see, 'and your Aunt Sookie was gushing about all the times you spent with her.'

'You sure are pretty, Ms Storm.' Lisa pipes up softly and the tiny smile on the girls face melts any of Loki's remaining wariness into a genuine grin.

'Oh, well, thank you, Lisa. You're beautiful yourself – just like your mother.' She winks at the freckled girl, before reaching out a hand with an exaggerated look of concentration and brushing it gently through riotous red curls. With a tiny surge of magic, Loki conjures a daisy into her fingers and produces it with a faked gasp of surprise. 'Look – even this flower seems to be jealous of your lovely face, with the way it was clinging to you.'

The look of delight and awe on the children's faces is immensely satisfying. Before Fenrir was born and when Loki was in the youth of her first millennia (comparatively a young teenager), she would often be hounded around Asgard by younger Æsir of noble and peasant birth alike, all of them begging for their Princess to show them some magic. Unlike their parents and most of their elders, the children of Asgard saw her power as something truly wondrous rather than a potential weapon – the memory of their bright little faces and screaming giggles is kept in a fragile, guarded corner of Loki's heart, but it's a truly happy recollection.

It's only when a wide-eyed Cody speaks up that she shakes free of nostalgia. 'How'd you do that?'

'Do what?' Loki gives the boy an innocent wink. 'Oh, it seems there's something in your hair too, young man.' She reaches behind his ear and produces a shiny new quarter which she presses into a gaping Coby's hand. 'I reckon you could hold onto this.'

'Are there any more flowers in my hair, Ms Storm?' Lisa leans forward, shyness temporarily forgotten in the face of magic tricks.

'Hm, no more flowers, but, what's this?' Loki leans closer in mock-solemnity, tapping the girl's nose gently with a finger and abruptly clasping both hands before her as if holding something precious. She peeks between them, looking up at Coby and Lisa with wide-eyed excitement. 'It seems something was hiding in your freckles.'

'In her freckles? What?'

'What was it?'

Rather than tell them, the Æsir mage merely opens her hands, and her avid audience "ooh" and "ahh" excitedly as a collection of white and brown-speckled butterflies take off from her palm, flying languid paths through the air around the booth. It's a very basic illusion, really, but both kids look to her once the insects have all flown out the window as though she has just proven the existence of Santa Claus. But a slight intake of breath makes her turn and peer at her boss, who is looking a little pole-axed.

'Hey, Sam.' She greets, and her casual tone is taken as the cue it is meant to be as he shakes off his curiosity over the blatant display of magic and plops two sandwiches before the kids and joining her on the bench.

'Here you go.' Coby and Lisa dig in ravenously – Sam smiles at the sight. 'And more where that came from.'

As they eat, the two adults converse in rapid whispers. The shifter asks about Dallas; he inquires after Tara and Sookie; he laments over Jason and Andy's decision to fight. Loki listens intently and answers most questions fired her way concisely. Sam has just asked where (and why) Bill has gone when Lisa speaks up.

'What's wrong with our mama?'

Loki and Sam share an uncertain look – they both know that Arlene is possessed, but they are not explaining that. 'I think she's sick.' Sam says gently.

'Is she blind?'

'Well, she might be sometimes,' Loki's lips quirk at the unintended double-meaning in his words, 'but not always.'

'...Is she gonna die?'

'No. Not anytime soon.' The bar-owner shifts a little uncomfortably in the face of a child's bluntness. 'Now listen, has she… has she been sick in front of you a lot?'

The freckled little girl contemplates this with a frown. 'She doesn't seem sick.'

'She seems crazy.' Coby interjects – they both nod.

'Is she crazy?'

'Everybody gets a little crazy every now and then.' Is Sam's rejoinder and the Æsir mage can't help but admire his calm, carefully worded manner of speaking to both children. It reminds her a little of how Thor treats Astrid – as though she is entirely his equal despite being so young.

'She's always kissin' Terry and doin' other gross stuff when her eyes get weird.' Lisa continues with an adorable wrinkle of her nose.

'Can we get her a doctor?'

'Or someone to make her like she used to be?'

'Like a vampire.' Coby announces, excited at the very thought of the un-dead. 'I bet a vampire would know what to do.'

'Where's vampire Bill?'

'Mr Compton is out looking for a way to fix everybody, actually,' Loki answers, 'but I'm not sure when he'll be back.' The last is directed at Sam, who grimaces. They both know that time is of the essence if they don't want the whole town going up in smoke.

Coby and Lisa fall silent, apparently sensing that "vampire Bill" may not be their saviour. The blonde boy looks between the adults with a furrowed brow. 'Don't you know any other vampires?'

Something lights behind Sam's eyes as realization overcomes him, and a peek into his head (broad shoulders, blonde hair, a familiar pale face and eye the colour of the ocean) makes Loki shove her boss from the booth and drag him out of earshot of the curious children.

'Really?' She asks seriously. 'You really wanna go to Eric for help?'

Sam sighs deeply, looking to the floor and away from her frank stare. 'I don't want to,' he tells her firmly, 'but what other choice do we have?'

Loki doesn't want to admit out loud that he may have a point. Even in all her years of living on Midgard, the Æsir mage has never killed a maenad; she's never even heard of anyone doing so. Mythology says that they can't die at all until they have successfully summoned Dionysus (or Bacchus, or Satan, or whatever you'd like to call the damn thing) and as something as an authority on "gods", Loki can't say she's ever encountered any evidence of such a deity existing. As far as she can tell, a maenad is another perfect example of faith becoming power, but whether or not the "raving ones" are actually fuelled by an actual godlike being? Loki doubts it.

(There is a definite irony in the fact that Loki doesn't believe in gods, she knows, but she is all too aware of how easily something "other" can be classified as something "godly". And the only way her own prayers have ever been answered is through her own actions.)

The fact is that Loki has spent the majority of her time on Midgard since her banishment playing the part of a human, a mortal mage or a complete nonentity, and therefore had very few opportunities to get into duels with relics of Ancient Greece. In contrast, vampires – especially the older ones – would have likely come into contact with a maenad at some point and been fully capable of fighting one all out, so the chance that there is a vampire somewhere that knows how to kill one is high. Distantly, Loki wonders whether Godric would know – but she can hardly intrude on his fresh start just to ask.

If you go to see the Viking, the voice of reason in her head points out, you can find out why Lafayette is selling V. The thought is enough to make her cave and give Sam a nod of approval, but Eric's blood itches under her skin, stirring at the impending visit with the vampire. The Norns (1) seem to just keep throwing her into the path of the Sheriff of Area 5 – Loki doesn't know how to feel about it.

xXx

Sam, Coby and Lisa are almost hilariously out of place sitting on the black leather chairs inside of a closed Fangtasia, watching Ginger scurry about the room nervously. Truthfully, Loki probably stands out just as badly in her casual jeans-and-tee outfit, but she learned long ago that "fitting in" isn't as much about appearance as it is about confidence – so the Æsir mage perches on a bar stall as though she sits there every night and keeps a sharp eye on the children.

'Hello, doll.' A voice from her left purrs, and Loki turns to shoot the vampire a grin.

'Hey, Pam,' she studies the permanently polished vampire, quirking a brow at the latex-dress/corset combo that she's squeezed into, 'you look... nice?'

'Save it,' Pam commands with an unnecessary sigh, brushing off the insincere compliment and giving her own outfit a disdainful glance, 'if only the vermin appreciated couture.'

Loki laughs at the muttered comment. 'Well, if it makes you feel any better, you can certainly pull off "dominatrix".'

'Oh, you have no idea.' The vampire shoots her a smouldering, suggestive look that has the black-haired woman grinning a little naughtily. Pam's painted lips twitch upwards, but when she catches sight of Sam, her face falls completely. 'Oh, you bought a guard dog. Lovely.'

'I don't need a guard dog.'

'Ah, that's right Ms Mage.' Loki is suddenly being surveyed with a new degree of interest. 'You're the first I've met.'

'Ah, well, always happy to pop the mage cherry,' Pam snorts at the dry rebuttal, 'I'll have to show off to you sometime.'

'Oh, please do.' The bouncer drawls, drawing closer. 'Your place or mine?'

'Mine.' She fires back, completely at ease with the sexual banter and a little amused that Pam is trying so hard to make her uncomfortable. 'We could have a sleepover.'

'Doll, you shouldn't tempt me so,' Pam sighs in faux-heartbreak, 'we both you're claimed now.'

Eugh. Don't remind me. The Æsir mage hides her annoyance at being classified as belonging to anyone expertly. 'That doesn't mean we can't talk – there's a killer vintage store in Monroe that has more Chanel than a 50's starlette's wardrobe.'

'Interesting proposition. But why?'

'Maybe I crave your wonderful company and warm attitude?' Pam's raised eyebrow screams "yeah, right", and Loki cuts the bullshit. 'I am not pleased with your maker.'

'Oh?'

'Yes. And I thought to myself "what's the one thing a man dreads?" and the answer was obvious. So,' Loki winks at the vampire conspiratorially, 'we have to become the very best of friends, dear Pam.'

She can see the bouncer processing this, weighing the pros and cons carefully, and when a fierce smirk overcomes her lips Loki knows she has won. Obviously, the prospect of irritating her maker is too good to pass up. 'Very well. May I ask why we are punishing my dear maker?'

'You can ask.'

'So angry and yet refusing to admit why, huh?' Pam quirks a brow.

'My dearest Pam: isn't that a woman's prerogative?'

The look that Eric's progeny throws her is borderline approving – it's probably the highest form of flattery she'll ever receive from Pam. They share a conspiratorial smirk, and the doors to the club comes open, Pam's eyes light with intrigue.

'Seems my Master has arrived,' she pulls Loki to her feet, 'let's go see about getting rid of the dog – he's stinking up the place.'