Eric should have been enjoying this.
Bill was saying his goodbyes to Sookie, not even trying to pretend that the Viking's silent presence didn't inconvenience him. Every lovesick caress was accented by a dirty look in Eric's direction. He made no secret of his disagreement with his Sheriff. He was angry, and he wanted his superior to know it.
This was such a grave tactical error it would have appealed to Eric's sense of humor if he was at all himself. Bill was a transparent casing to his own illogical passions- a young vampire in so many ways.
"You're gonna be drivin' all night," Sookie said in a gentle, sympathetic voice Eric never heard before, "What'll you do if the sun beats you back?"
Bill was holding her face in his hands.
"I will be forced to pull over, and take refuge in the ground."
"That's so…gross. You don't worry about worms, or bugs crawlin' on you?"
"They couldn't care less about us," Eric informed her, seizing an opportunity to be intrusive, "We're too dead."
He was immediately assaulted by the same narrowed, resentful eyes that seemed to be reserved for him at Godric's nest.
"No one is talkin' to you," his constituent said, just incase the menace in his face didn't relay the message well enough.
Eric glanced at the clock mounted on the opposite wall of the hotel suite, his weight shifting forward, and back, and forward again.
The display of impatience was against his will, and he put a stop to it the instant he noticed. He had little tolerance for anxiety. It didn't sit well on him for even brief periods of time, let alone multiple nights. Trying to rid himself of it by hunting down his Maker, and confessing the shameful truth of what he'd let become of their bond, had only made it worse.
Godric's scream was ringing in his ears tonight before life had the opportunity to rouse him.
A human woman, a human woman, put a knife through his Maker. She'd knocked him in to the dirt –had beaten him with her human thrashes and her human blows- and he had taken it.
Like a spineless worm, Godric, Godric, rolled over for her. The ancient boy whom Eric had fought more times than any foe he'd battled in over a thousand years, and whom he could never defeat regardless of how fierce or unexpected the effort, laid down before a powerless, human girl.
It was more than enough to send Eric over the edge. Especially as the night wore on, and Godric repeatedly dodged his attempts to make sense of the surrender. His Maker all but flat out ignored his probing questions; sidestepping his purposely bald statements while avoiding eye contact like the plague.
Godric treated him as if he was the one who had folded to the punches of a lesser being. As if Eric had disappointed him.
And, Eric couldn't help but ask himself, had he? Were Godric's actions a test? Was his Maker using the human woman as a tool to assess his child's loyalty? Did the Viking fail the moment the blade of her weapon tore through his creator's skin?
"I hate leavin' you here," Bill crooned to Sookie, replanting himself firmly into his moment.
She gazed at him, "I hate stayin' without you. But you gotta take care of Jessica. I won't have her murderin' what's left of my family."
"I will return to you as soon as I possibly can."
"I'll be waitin'."
"I love you."
"I know you do."
After Godric's stern rejection of Eric's offering to share his room, he had returned to the Camilla in great need of a distraction. He hoped Bill and Sookie might be able to provide him with something trivial to get his mind off all of the disturbing shit his Maker ceremoniously dumped on him in the Texas woods.
But Bill and Sookie had their own mess to add to the pile instead… Now the darling couple was about to kiss.
Eric did not want to see this, "Chop-chop, Bill."
They ignored him, just like he knew they would. Bill pulled Sookie's face on his and their mouths smashed together. The impact was blunt, like vehicles ramming into each other on a highway. An uncoordinated accident followed immediately by a rough fusion that made Sookie try to mold herself into her boyfriend, even as Bill's grip on her face kept her a prudish distance away.
Godric's gift of unrelenting anxiety had Eric itching to get out of the hotel and on to more important things as it was. But watching the spectacle before him felt like tossing a handful of needles into the burden. Pin pricks of another cursed emotion poked into him at the sight.
Eric didn't care what it was. He detested caring, and he had too much to care about already.
"Did you want to reach Bon Temps while the residents were still living?" he asked, "…or were you just planning on organizing pine boxes? Perhaps the Magister will force you to create a new vampire for every human casualty of Jessica's."
The harsh words jumped between the lovebirds beautifully. Sookie was terrified by the possibility of her community taking up house in the town cemetery. Bill was equally horrified by the idea of winding up on the silver end of the Magister's staff for the second time in a matter of weeks. Even he had to know the repercussions would be deadly.
Nevertheless, Eric was not proud of them. He could feel the acid in his chest eating through his composure; he could hear it leaking into his voice. He was ridiculously tense- coiled to spring at the slightest provocation. If Bill were to overstep his bounds again, would he have the discipline not to kill him?
He needed to see Godric.
Bill finally stepped away from Sookie.
"You've made your point," he glowered at the Viking, "I request to speak to you outside."
"Bill…" Sookie complained, more than likely envisioning a similar scenario to the one she'd witnessed the night before.
The circumstances were worrisome. For, without her indomitable interference, who would referee?
The boyfriend wasn't having it, "Sookie."
Bill walked over toward the door. Eric gave a nod of agreement, and then proceeded into the hall. He traveled a few short steps into the corridor, standing in wait as Bill shut Sookie out of their conversation. The click of the seal annoyed Eric immensely.
Bill turned around, craning his neck up a bit to speak. He wasn't as short as the ancient boy, but the height difference was notable. It usually was where Eric was concerned; he looked down on the world.
"If anything happens to her, I swear..." he began.
"Please," Eric scoffed, "We both know she's safer with me than she ever was with you."
"I find that hard to believe since you were so willin' to put her in harm's way. My Maker, the vampire you so selfishly summoned here to detain me, would've ripped Sookie apart if the opportunity presented itself. She still could."
"Actually, Ms. Krasiki appears to have left Dallas."
"I suppose you should know. You were coverin' all of her expenses."
Eric could tell how disgusted Bill was by his decision to invite Lorena to Texas. He saw it as a low blow, a hit below the belt to steal Sookie away from him. But Eric's motivation for inviting Lorena- his primary motivation, anyway- had nothing to do with Sookie. It was to ensure that Godric was rescued, and Bill and his relationship would not interfere with any possibility of that happening.
It was funny, really, how quick Bill was to assume that everyone was as intensely enamored by the telepathic waitress as he was.
"Just as you should know I'm no longer covering all of yours. The gas you burn on this trip is coming out of your own wallet. Do we understand each other?"
Bill leveled Eric with a stare he probably meant to be threatening. Eric looked back, his face totally lax.
"We do," Bill finally agreed.
"Excellent."
Bill padded down the hall without anything further. He stopped when he reached the elevator, pressing the down arrow to take him to the lobby. As he watched him wait, Eric realized he was heading to Bon Temps empty handed. Bill hadn't bothered to re-pack a suitcase, or even stock a grocery bag for his departure.
He wasn't planning on this taking very long.
The elevator arrived, Bill stepped inside, and Eric reentered Sookie's room.
He found her standing somewhere between the doorway and the couch, her eyes breaking away easily from the television show she must have been half-watching in her distress. She looked at him with a bated suspension in her dark eyes that he knew too well.
The Viking gave his most empathetic expression.
"What happened to Bill?" Sookie blurted, staring straight through him.
"Nothing," he said, sharper than he'd intended, "He left…And now we're leaving."
"Leavin'? No, I'm not goin' anywhere with you."
Of course she would have to be difficult. Eric didn't have the time or patience to deal with her pitiful mortal attempts at resistance. He was late as it was. Without warning, he advanced on her, using her arms to steer her in front of him and then pushing her along out of the room with the continual motion of his own body.
Sookie yelped at him like an angry puppy every step of the way out of the Camilla. She called for help on the ground floor, but, after one glance at Eric, any onlookers she'd managed to attract quickly lost interest.
"Okay, okay!" she yelled at last as they progressed outdoors, "Get your giant hands off me! I can walk on my own!"
Eric complied, swinging her easily over to the side and releasing her. She fumed in huffy silence a step behind him as they moved down the sidewalk. His forearm was cold.
Sookie's fury soon morphed into curiosity, "Where're we goin'?"
"To see the Vampire King of Texas."
That threw her. Her steps faltered on the cement, and she tilted her head in puzzlement. Her face was highly skeptical.
"There's a…Vampire King of Texas?" she asked…
The buffoon with the outrageous earring was the only semi-living thing in sight.
He was stationed just outside the front entrance of Godric's nest, scanning the grounds lazily at his own convenience. A phone was pressed against his ear. He was mumbling into it enthusiastically as Eric approached with Sookie. Clad in fashionably abused jeans and gel-hardened hair, any passerby would easily mistake him for a loitering college student.
If it was a front, Eric was impressed.
Otherwise, it was appalling.
The Viking kept his eyes trained on the doorman, evaluating. They were only a few yards away. If he was listening, really listening, he should have heard them. He didn't even twitch.
Sookie squinted, "Is that…?"
"Security," Eric explained, the word more than slightly mocking, "We'll see how reliable he is."
"We're not supposed to be here, are we?"
"I'm not."
Eric placed a hand on Sookie's back as they neared the building. He was becoming increasingly agitated by the buffoon's apparent obliviousness. It was no wonder the Solider of the Sun had reached Godric so effortlessly.
The buffoon continued his conversation as if they didn't exist. Eric listened to his uninterrupted mumblings while Sookie passed through the door, noting with some disbelief that the voice pouring into the phone wasn't of the same rusty tenor he remembered.
It sounded nothing like it.
Eric scanned him with brutal scrutiny, hesitating just barely for a second look. There was no doubt it was the same imbecile who'd been causing trouble two nights before- the same irritated idiot who had been sitting across from his Maker in the chamber for conferences. But it was not the same voice.
Suddenly, the buffoon's eyes flashed up to his.
It was immediately clear that he'd been aware of their advance all along. There was no alarm in his expression. He kept on talking into the receiver in the alien voice that admittedly fit his appearance much better than the gruff one had. And then he smiled at the Viking as if they were sharing a private joke, and turned his back.
Eric was at a loss as to what the buffoon thought he was doing, but he knew he didn't like it. He would mention it to Godric the next time they were alone.
Once inside, Eric immediately began to search the entryway for obstacles. He prepared for ambush, sure that the pathetic waste of space by the door couldn't possibly be the only form of security the Dallas vampires employed to keep unwelcome visitors out of the nest.
He found himself walking into another petty argument instead.
"…Highness has a perfectly reasonable excuse."
"Excuses ain't never reasonable. Bunch of garbage made up by lazy bastards that can't deal with their own problems."
"He is a King."
"Then he oughta start actin' like it. Third time this year he's left us high and dry. Everybody and their neighbor knows we got these fanatics leavin' tanin' beds on our doorstep."
"That was a mistake."
"That wasn't a mistake. That was harassment."
"You are the most paranoid vampire I have ever-"
Isabel cut off as Eric and Sookie rounded the corner into the front room. Godric's lieutenants materialized in their path instantly, baring their fangs. The immediate defensive response might have been reassuring if it had happened before the ancient boy was within sight. As it was, there was nothing stopping Eric from barreling through them to get to their Sheriff. And that knowledge weighed heavily on him.
"It certainly took you long enough," he criticized, peering over Isabel's head as she retracted her fangs.
His Maker was seated on the near end of a couch behind them. It was turned sideways- leaving only the right half of Godric visible from where Eric was standing. He was draped in bland, loose-fitting clothes that blended almost perfectly with the furniture; his profile partially hidden by the hump of the armrest. His eyes were directed straight forward, staring at nothing, glazed over with a distance that made the blood in Eric's veins surge without the encouragement of a pulse.
This wasn't Godric: this hallow capsule; this inanimate wallflower.
However, most unsettling of all was that the ancient boy's nestmates didn't seem to find anything strange about this behavior. Eric knew Godric to be a deep thinker, but this was…something else. This couldn't be normal.
"How'd you get in here?" Stan rumbled from between clenched teeth, unwilling to back down.
"We walked," Sookie said harmlessly, "The man outside didn't say anything to us."
The cowboy sneered at her. He looked to Eric, refusing to acknowledge the human.
"He should have. King don't want an audience."
"I don't see any king here," Sookie fired back, indignant.
"Maybe you got bad eyesight."
"I have 20 20 vision, thank you very much. What are you? Legally blind?"
Stan growled, making an attempt to lunge at Sookie. Isabel restrained him, revealing that she was clearly the elder of the two. Eric had to restrain himself from lashing out at all of them. He'd have been better off interrogating a slab of concrete for answers.
"So His Majesty hasn't arrived," he surmised, "Why?"
He spoke louder than necessary. His eyes were diverted over Isabel's head again, burning holes in Godric's temple.
The ancient boy showed no sign of being aware of any of it.
"You shouldn't have known we were expecting him in the first place," Isabel informed him, but it was no news to Eric, "How did you learn this?"
The Viking's focus didn't waver from the immobile form on the couch. He realized his true reason for coming to the nest had nothing to do with political justifications, or even testing the Dallas vampires' sorely lacking security personnel.
"Godric mentioned it," Eric said, implicating his Maker, moving through Isabel and Stan, approaching the couch, "He told me not to get involved…but I came anyway."
He spoke slowly, deliberately. He let the dare of a challenge saturate his breath- his stance tall and confrontational as he situated himself before Godric. In the past, these actions would have surely signed his death warrant. He was hoping they still would.
Eric needed to see the old spark of condemnation in his Maker's eye; the one that could force him into surrender when an army of over 300,000 men could not. He needed to watch his mouth twist in understated outrage, and sense the burn of it searing through his skin. He needed to feel the iron will of a vampire more than twice his age pressing in on him, reminding him what he was supposed to be.
He would gladly submit to all of it- so long as it was still there.
The Viking stood motionless, waiting for some indication that the ancient boy was listening to him or at least knew of his presence. But the only reaction he received was his Maker's unseeing gaze falling away further to scrutinize his own lap in…it looked like…defeat.
"I disobeyed you," Eric ground out when he could not stand it any longer.
Did you not hear me?
A quiet murmur, "I heard you."
And nothing more.
Eric blinked. He had an incredible urge to seize Godric by the shoulders and shake him.
That was when the phone in his pants' pocket began to vibrate. The accompanying melody was nauseating. It was the kind of music that made him wish he was deaf in the early 1900s, and he didn't have to check to see who was bothering him. She programmed in her own ringtone, and she never failed to select something that would aggravate him.
He turned his back on Godric without apology, glaring at the picture-less walls of the den with disinterest as he lifted the cellular device to his ear.
"I told you not to call."
"There are zombies mating on your desk," Pam said overtop of what sounded like an especially rowdy night in Fangtasia, "I thought you might want to know."
"I see. How did they get into my office?"
"I was too busy putting out the fire behind the cash register to notice them taking an axe to the door."
Eric shut his eyes, massaging his brow in an attempt to rub away the train wreck she'd just described.
"I asked you to look after things until I got back. It's been five nights."
"Five nights in zombie hell. Those things ran Bon Temps into the dump, and now they're turning Shreveport into a mutilated, black-eyed orgy. Come home."
"No."
In Swedish, "Damn it, Eric. They found the Queen's stash. There's blood covering the floor."
He stopped massaging. He had to be cautious not to miss a beat in the conversation. He wasn't alone. He couldn't say anything in font of other vampires that could be used to link him or Sophie-Anne to the V later. He didn't know what languages Isabel and Stan had picked up over their however many centuries, but he wasn't taking any chances.
"Then give Ginger a mop."
"She has bottomless pits where her eyes should be."
"Make Chow do it. Or clean it yourself, and experience the joys of manual labor for the first time in a hundred years."
"Fuck off. I can't run this place alone. It's a pigsty."
"Close up if you have to."
"What about the money? The Queen-"
"I'll handle it."
Eric thought of the possessed women in the woods. There was a very good chance they were connected with whatever Pam was dealing with on a larger scale in Louisiana. Maybe they were stragglers of the main movement who wandered too far off and stumbled across the state border without realizing it.
Godric's scream rang in his ears again. The horrifying image of his Maker lying face down in the dirt with a knife handle sticking out of him haunted Eric mercilessly. If anything happened to Pam…
"Be careful," he added against his better judgment, a dead giveaway that something was wrong.
He ended the call before she could ask questions. She didn't need to know about any of this.
The Viking held the silent phone for an extra moment, allowing himself time to prioritize. The pull to grab Sookie and head directly to the airport was almost overpowering. His progeny, his business, and his Area were all in need of attention, and he couldn't do anything from Dallas.
On the other hand, Godric obviously needed his attention too. And Godric was his Maker.
The Maker came first. Godric would always come first.
Eric shoved the phone back into his pocket, resolute. Isabel and Stan were at it again. He glanced at them as he pivoted around, marveling at their uselessness. It was possible that Godric's behavior was a byproduct of living in the midst of their endless bickering. If Eric was forced to spend his waking hours trapped inside their personal fighting ring, he would mentally disengage too.
But that didn't explain why the ancient boy was willing to take a beating from a possessed blood bag. No matter how hard Eric tried to find a logical reasoning, nothing could explain that.
Sookie was waiting for him when he turned around.
"Is somethin' happenin' in Shreveport?" she asked.
If he didn't want to answer Pam's questions, he most definitely didn't want to answer hers.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?"
"I've got a right to know. It's my home too."
A fair point.
"Technically, it's not. But it does sound as if the problems started in your quaint little village…"
She gasped, "Jessica?"
"Most likely no," he pictured the black-eyed women again, "It seems more like possession."
"…Of drugs?"
They found the Queen's stash. There's blood covering the floor.
Pam's voice ripped through Eric's head without warning. It tore its way out of his skull and down his throat, shredding past his lips like something forced out of him by an exceptionally creative torturer.
"No," he replied, firm and immediate.
Sookie flinched backward. She gave him a look that clearly said he'd overreacted and, worse, wondered why.
Eric cursed himself in silence, then amended more naturally, "Not that kind of possession."
"Okay…" she hedged, hesitating, "Possession like…a demon?"
He used his Maker's words, his voice paling in comparison to Godric's:
"An evil energy."
"Somethin' evil is takin' over my friends and my family and your bar, and you're not makin' any plans to leave? You're a Sheriff. I thought you were supposed to take care of stuff like that."
"My duty as Sheriff is strictly to the vampires which reside in my territory. Widespread human insanity, regardless of where it's happening, is a human's problem. If you want it taken care of, send a letter to the President."
The division between Vampire and human government wasn't nearly as clean cut as Eric attempted to make it sound. The issues of one race bled into the other on a regular basis. There were at least twice as many human perpetrators rotting away in Fangtasia's basement two weeks ago than vampires he'd brought before the Magister in the last year. He didn't even know for sure whether vampires could be possessed by this 'evil energy' or not.
"Go," Godric said.
Eric looked to the couch, startled to find his Maker's head up, alert, and staring at him.
He met the steadiness of his gaze in disbelief. Now he had his attention?
"What?"
"There's no reason for you to stay here. Go."
He fumbled for words, "You…"
"I am no longer your concern."
Eric blinked three times in rapid succession. The statement was completely contradictory to everything he'd been taught. It was impossible to follow. For over eight hundred years, Godric had been his only concern.
"You're my Maker."
Godric closed his eyes as he nodded, "I know. And, as your Maker, I…am telling you…to leave."
It was almost a command. Eric felt the old awakening of Godric's will –dormant in his veins- preparing to override his system. But the direct order was aborted, and his blood calmed, and his body remained his.
"I don't want to leave."
"I don't recall asking what you wanted."
Godric sat up straighter, raising his chin a fraction. Eric observed the subtle change with a familiar sense of dread. He recognized this, and it was in no way a good sign. The almost-command had been a reminder that he was not formally released from his Maker; that his free will was still a privilege.
"Louisiana, Fangtasia, Pam…These are the things that matter," the ancient boy said, and for a moment Eric was in Godric's bed on the first night, discussing happiness.
Why hadn't he mentioned Godric's name then?
"I will not abandon you for them," he vowed.
"No… You abandoned them for me."
Eric didn't understand what was wrong about that. He pushed everything aside to come to his Maker's aid, and now Godric was angry with him for it? He gawked at him openly, uncomprehending.
Condemnation sparked in Godric's eyes as his mouth twisted in understated outrage.
"You are weak," he told Eric in clipped, unforgiving speech, "I am ashamed of you."
The wind whooshed out of the Viking's lungs and spots dotted his vision, as if he'd taken a blow to the gut and the head at the same time. Failure slammed down on him like a ton of cinderblocks dropped from the sky on to his shoulders with no forewarning.
His legs began to buckle beneath the weight.
"Godric, ple-"
That was when the silence interrupted him.
Suddenly Eric became all too aware of the harsh quiet hanging over them. Sookie, Isabel, and Stan existed again. The pressure of their unwelcome presence kept him standing even though all he wanted was to fall to his knees. His pride cut off his pathetic groveling as soon as he realized it was being heard by someone other than Godric.
He looked away from his Maker, breaking the spell of their imagined privacy to glance at the audience. Sookie was staring at him, and Stan. Isabel was focused on Godric, but took notice the instant his eyes breezed past her.
When he returned to the waiting gaze of the ancient boy, Eric felt all the more pitiful. Godric hadn't looked away from him at all.
The Viking clenched his jaw. He tried to make himself kneel, but he was frozen. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again without any sound escaping. The humiliation constricted him, and he fought against it, all the while knowing he was shaming Godric.
Finally, he hung his head.
"Go," Godric instructed once more, mercifully, "You've embarrassed yourself enough."
This time, Eric obeyed without resistance…
"He didn't mean it," Sookie offered unhelpfully.
Eric was walking with her back to the hotel, regretting his decision not to rent a car more and more with every step. The distance was short. But it was not short enough to avoid her unwanted, inadequate sympathies.
He hoped if he remained unresponsive, the telepath would take the hint and shut up. Of course he couldn't be that fortunate.
"I remember when my Gran would get mad at me, I mean real mad, she would holler all sorts of nasty things to get the steam out. And afterwards, I'd feel so terrible for lettin' her down that I'd go up to my room and slam the door on the world. But she wouldn't let me sit up there ten minutes before she'd come find me with a slice of pie and a smile, and I always knew everything was gonna be alright between us."
Eric wished he had a stake currently in his possession. He'd settle for earplugs. Or duct tape.
"Godric is not your grandmother."
"I just mean I understand what it's like –to disappoint somebody you look up to?"
Eric whirled on her, his fangs spiking along with his temper, "You don't understand anything. Do not insult me by pretending that you do."
How dare she? She had no idea what it was to be a vampire. She couldn't begin to comprehend how it felt to have a Maker, or be one for that matter. She didn't know Godric... Then again, did Eric even know Godric anymore? And if Eric didn't know Godric, who did he know?
Sookie didn't say anything else. She moved alongside him, undoubtedly offended. Eric was surprised she didn't find the lack of conversation in the elevator uncomfortable. Perhaps she did, and was waiting for him to break the silence. But Eric didn't want to talk. To anyone.
His Maker said he was weak, and so he was.
They exited the lift only to be met by a strangely enthusiastic woman with long, brown hair halfway up the hall.
"Sookie!" she exclaimed without a southern accent, "There you are! I've been waiting for you all evening."
"Excuse me?" Sookie asked.
"It's me, Maryann Forrester. We met at Merlotte's a couple of days ago. I'm here with Tara. She wanted to come visit you."
"…What?"
"Oh, she left you a message this morning. Haven't you checked your voicemail?"
A/N: I just wanted to throw a quick thank you out there to TheSematary'sProgeny for your amazing feedback and putting up with all of my inane babbling. I pulled her on the TB wagon about two months ago, and you should definitely check out her writing if you have a chance.