Pam and I took the tube to Harrods' this time in efforts to be a little more conspicuous. It was still early- just past 9 o'clock but the crowds were starting to die out on the underground. Pam led us to a nearly empty car where we sat in a corner, conversing quietly about what would be happening at the meeting we were certainly not attending. This would be Pam's fourth meeting and ball, but Eric had given her a much longer leash for this trip. She had pulled it even further in the name of shopping and glamour. We jumped off at the Knightsbridge stop and headed straight to the third floor salon. I don't know about Pam, but I was still feeling slightly sore and a little weak after the past few days' events. Within minutes we were both on the massage table, and I found myself in that wonderful standby mode that we have where we are aware of our surroundings, just not involved in them. My masseuse's hands were strong but soft, and his warmth was surprisingly wonderful. Maybe this was why Eric had liked being with me so much while I was still human. While Eric was wonderful and warm to me, nothing compared to have Sven's warm hands working in circles on my bare skin. At first he was a little weirded out by the coldness of mine, but he grew to appreciate that it was easier on his hands. Pam's brain was quiet for nearly the first time she had been here, and if I didn't know any better I'd almost say that she seemed happy, which made me ecstatic. Pam spent so much time holding up her guard to be the big bad vampire that she wanted everyone to see; I frequently wondered if there was anything softer on the inside. With her massage-induced peace, I'd say there was something softer on the inside, it just needed a tall, blonde Swedish masseuse to surface.
I was thoroughly enjoying my warm-handed massage (maybe a little too much, a growing sensation was happening between my legs that would later require Eric's uhh….growing sensation) I thought about whether I really should have bailed on Eric for tonight's meeting. No humans were attending tonight's meeting and I can't read vampire minds, only the feelings of those to whom I am bonded through blood. I'm not old enough or influential enough to have any say on what happens or doesn't happen, and I soon talked myself into thinking that getting a massage with Pam was the absolutely right thing to do. And had I stayed at the meeting, I wouldn't have been able to duck over to Harrods for a naughty little nightgown and a trench coat to wear for my return to the hotel. Which was exactly what would be happening next after Pam began wandering around the store to see all the things she may have missed the other day when we were strictly evening gown/shoes/accessory shopping. After paying for the massage and tipping Sven generously, I gave Pam a very English 'too-de-loo!' and headed up to the sixth floor where I had seen the naughty things. Luckily I had worn a short-ish coat tonight, so I could skip over that and get back to Eric a little bit faster. I was sifting through a small pile of black lacey panties (Eric had said numerous times he liked the contrast between the pale of my skin and the darkness of black, especially when lace allowed a sneak peek of the skin underneath.) But then again, Valentine's Day was tomorrow night, and perhaps red would be more fitting? And then again, Pam had suggested I wear the silver gown for tomorrow night, and we can't have red or black naughty things showing through that, right? I was mulling over my decisions when a sales woman snuck up behind me.
"May I suggest something pink? With rhinestones? They are very popular this time of year."
Sure. Why the hell not. "Absolutely. And I'm going to need something red and black too."
"Is there a particular style, Miss?" Her accent was so posh and exquisite, I wanted to drop my panties- the ones in my hand- and have tea and crumpets with her.
"I'm going to need the naughtiest thing you have." With a sheepish grin, she took my arm and led me to a different part of the lingerie section where they must have picked out the wardrobes for the Rocky Horror Picture Show. "Oh my God these are hot. I'll take a set in every color."
She raised one eyebrow in surprise. That was easy she thought. 34…D?
"36 actually. And you can leave out the green set on second thoughts. But I'm going to need the black, the red, both pinks and the blue. And I'm going to need some shoes to go with the black set." She looked at me, totally astonished. I'd read her mind and accidentally answered- actually corrected her. "I'm sorry," I blurted out, "I do that sometimes. I'm working on it." She grabbed the matching sets and wrapped them individually while I wandered over to the shoes across the floor, forcing herself to think of anything but vampires and telepaths, but failing miserably. Puppies, vampires, flowers, telepaths, chocolates, me wearing the red lace (damn I look good in her mind. Wish I looked that good in real life!) but anyhoo, her attempts that thinking about nice things failed and watching her brain crash and burn into the places she tried hardest to avoid was positively hilarious. After deciding against the shoes, I handed over my credit card to her and after I signed my name very clearly, I turned on my heel with my bags in hand and felt her sigh of relief as I walked away. My own thoughts were drifting to this evening's plans, and I tried to figure out where I would change into my little lacy surprise for Eric tonight.
I spent the rest of the journey back on my beautiful auto-pilot, a vampire's extreme daydream. I sort of followed Pam and became more and more aware of her thoughts as they grew angrier as we grew closer to the hotel. She checked her blackberry quickly and kept walking through the lobby, which was starting to resume its normal splendor of London's best- Vampires or not. "Sookie, why don't you come with me to my room. Eric's going to be a while." She glanced back at me and my little Harrods bag full of pricey unmentionables. "You can show me those pink ones if you like." Pam had always taken "bi-curious" a little further than most, so I was never entirely sure if she was serious or not. She must have picked up on my hesitation to join her in her suite. "I'm fucking with you, Sook. Eric wants us and Barry to have a little chat about…things." After she mentioned it, I could hear Barry's fear buzzing like a bee- his mind moving too quickly to put emotions in to thoughts.
Pam's room was a few doors down from the one I shared with Eric, and passing by I could feel his fear. I had grown to love fear, or at least different people's interpretations of fear. Barry feared physical pain above all else, and his deepest fears are based on memories, on which he has elaborated over time. People do this all the time- add to memories, convince themselves it went differently than it actually did. Eric's fears were deeper. He knew that unlike Barry, he would heal quickly. I had never known him to fear physical pain, and his worries were targeted towards loss. Above Fangtasia, above his Sheriff position, above his loyalties to the queen he once had, and above all of his worldly possessions (and there were more than a few) he treasured his prodigies, Pam and myself. It was a beautiful fear that made me love and respect him more each time I felt it with him. He felt me walking by, and a smile crept on to my lips as I felt his momentary peace. He was preparing for battle.
Pam's door was slightly ajar and we walked inside without the key. Barry sat at the desk that had previously been covered in make-up and perfumes and Vanna White-d his contribution to the search for Malia. Four large computers sat on the desk, each of them showing 12 different feeds from security cameras around the room. As Pam's jaw dropped a fraction of a millimeter in what he had accomplished, I felt his fear subside into smugness. We watched as weres chatted on screen two, one of them leaning against the brick wall and looking out across the Thames, not caring what his friends were discussing. On screen one the Pharaoh and his mistresses sat at a table in the dining room, no doubt talking about Malia. A couple bottles of blood sat at the tables, but they were untouched. And on the fourth screen, a tall blonde vampire with long, slicked back hair carried a machine gun down our hallway. He turned to the camera and gave us wink. Eric was on the hunt.
Before I even realized what I was doing, I had run down the hallway and wrapped my arms around him. "Please don't go. It will be morning soon and you can't fight her off if you've got the bleeds."
He laughed something evil. "Oh Sookie, my lover, this isn't for Malia."