Life with Eric had sort of fallen into a pattern over my first few weeks as a vampire. Wake up a couple minutes after dark, find Eric downstairs on a call or texting, have a drink with Eric, head to Fangtasia and hang out with Pam or go to Merlotte's to hang out with Sam, head back home, find Eric there and enjoy the pants off each other for whatever time remained before dawn. It was a strange life, so far from the one I had envisioned for myself, but I found myself loving the consistency. Eric was always going to be there for me, and I for him. Sam and most everyone else at the bar had gotten used to vampire-Sookie, and I had even spoken with Sam about picking up a shift a couple nights a week since I could do everything so much faster now. It was the first thing on my mind when I woke up today, eager to see Sam again and continue our chats about his mom, Arlene's prison cell, and business in general. As usual, I was alone in the bed when I woke, and I rolled over and inhaled Eric's scent off of his pillow. That smell would never get old. Throwing on an itsy-bitsy robe, I sleepily followed that scent downstairs, and with three stairs remaining, I was struck with panic. Eric wasn't here. His shoes, his phone, and his car were here, but not Eric. Something was terribly wrong. I dashed around the house, through the living room, the laundry room, into the kitchen, and back upstairs. Nowhere. Down the stairs again and through the backdoor, and I picked up a fresh scent. And a broken door handle. I sprinted barefoot into the cemetery behind the house, following his scent the best I could, but found that it had stopped somewhere between the back door and the tool shed. I heard the phone ring from inside the house and sprinted in, picking it up on the third ring.
"Hello?" I asked, hoping to God it was Eric.
"Sookie? Sookie?" Pam was whispering into the phone, not giving me a second to respond. "Get out of the house, now!"