Well great thanks for everyone's patience as I worked on some of my other ideas, (and published my other little thing, Fang girls know what I'm talking about). Its time to get back to Eric and Sookie, and those witches. I hope you all like the direction we are going to be working in. As always, I love your reviews and comments and suggestions.

And I thank CH for these wonderful characters.

Part 36

I did not ask any questions, there really were not any to ask right then. We travelled to Bon Temps at my speed and went immediately to seek out Jason, he had been the one to send the message to Sookie. He gave us what details he had, and a call to Andy Bellefleur added little else, possibly because it was very late, though he answered as best he could, and as politely as he could considering he was half asleep. I wanted to tell Sookie to go back to the house, but I did not. The determination and grief in her eyes did not need to be furthered by my attempts to calm her. She insisted on going to Merlotte's, the place where they had found Sam, two days earlier, on the floor of his office, blood around his ears, nose and mouth, but otherwise unmolested. She had a key, I did not know exactly what she hoped to find by going there, but she needed to do it, and she needed me to be with her when she did. She had been so strong, ever since we had left the airport. The few tears that had threatened then had been the last ones I had seen until the moment she walked into his office. Nothing about it was different as far as I could tell, but of course I had not spent years of my life coming in and out of it. I stood in the doorway, unsure if I should join her or not. I waited for some signal from her, and it came in the form of a deep sob and so I rushed to gather her in my arms and hold her as she finally let herself fall apart. She cried for a good while, and I simply stroked her hair and held her close to my chest. I did not whisper platitudes, or tell her how much I loved her; it was not what she needed. She needed me to be her rock, and so I was.

I managed to get her home, to her home, with a minimum of fuss; she was exhausted, mentally and physically. I lay with her on the bed until she fell asleep and then I left her in peace hoping she would be able to sleep for a good many hours, she needed it. I did not dare leave her alone in the house, even with our bond to alert me to any danger or distress she might find herself in, for despite the relative peace of the last six months I could not delude myself into thinking that evil would not find her again, it was drawn to her it seemed, and I did not exclude myself from that group. If it did come that night, or even the next day I would be at her side in milliseconds, and so I made my way around the house, drawing all the curtains and closing the shutters so that if I did need to rise from my daytime slumber I would have a few more moments of safe ability before the sun began to burn me.

Precautions in place I sat myself on the couch to review in my head what little details we had, and what little I had been able to discover myself as Sookie had slumped in my arms in Sam's former office, crying for her lost friend.

It had been Holly who had found Sam, when she had arrived for her shift two days prior. The doors had been unlocked in the back, as Sam always left them after he arrived, and nothing about the bar had seemed out of place until she went to stow her purse in Sam's desk. Andy had described the scene as if he had simply dropped there. And his descriptions were borne out in what I had observed. Nothing was overturned; there was very little blood on the floor or on Sam for that matter, and no signs of a struggle. Nothing had been taken, at least nothing that Holly had noticed missing, and the safe had not been touched. It looked more as if Sam's body had simply materialized there where it fell. Sadly I knew that something like that was easily possible. And if that was what had happened then it would not be an easy crime to solve, if it was in fact a crime. It could have been a simple heart attack for all any of us knew, the county coroner had not come back with his report yet. I really was hoping for that answer, because then, even though it would still be an unhappy occurrence for my Beauty, it would not be sinister. But of course none of the denizens of Bon Temps ever seemed to pass in a benign fashion, did they?

Andy, who for some reason was beginning to see me as some kind of colleague, perhaps the sheriff title, had offered me a copy of the reports as they came in. Perhaps he just understood that I was going to get copies anyways in my own fashion. He did not believe it was just a heart attack, I could tell that without even being telepathic, I did not know if Sookie had investigated his thoughts, though I suspected she had not, it had been a very difficult night for her. I looked forward to the reports to see what they would add.

I had my own observations of the bar that the police would never have noticed, unless they were supernatural, and while nothing physical had been disturbed the energy of the place had been. It was subtle, but it was off, as if some fabric had been torn, the feeling was familiar to me, but after a thousand years so many were, it would take me awhile to place it in a proper context, and I knew it would likely be the occupation of my mind during the day sleep, something that was fast approaching. I checked in on Sookie for a last time, and adjusted the blankets over her, ones she had torn away in her sleep. She was not resting well; I could feel that through our bond, I tried to impose some calm over her, to lend her the strength I was able to keep about myself. I would like to believe that it worked, as she seemed to settle somewhat. I leaned in to kiss her, still loving the scent of her hair, and the feel of her velvet skin against my lips. Just that touch brought me the peace to sleep on my own as I would that day, just as I kept the sheets she slept against on my bed in my home until her return, I felt unsettled without her now, and I pushed away the thoughts of my loss, because she had said she wished to come live with me finally, and I saw that possibility fading quickly, something that tore at my dead heart. It was selfish, and perhaps unnecessary, to worry as I was doing, but as I have said before, nothing in Bon Temps is ever simple it seems.

I went to the safe resting place that Sookie had originally made for Bill Compton. But I did not let that fact bother me. It was a hole in the earth, a convenient shelter whomever it had first been meant for. If I had superstitions about such crypts and their occupants I would never have spent time in the catacombs of Rome or France, and I would have missed a great deal. Though I would have preferred spending my day with her, I knew she would need the time to do her own investigating, and I knew I could not stop her. I only prayed that whatever things that did go bump in the night in Bon Temps would stay abed during the day. I closed up the trap door and let my mind wander.

I heard her rise, in my half-dream state, and it was late, which I was pleased at. She had listened to her body finally and allowed it what it needed, proper rest. I felt our bond spring to a more conscious life, though it had always been there, in the back of my mind. She showered, and made coffee, even in my sleep I could smell it, and it wove its way into the thoughts I was having, returning my mind to meetings I had held when I passed for a human in Europe, when I had used my talents to build up, I would like to call it my empire, but it is far from that. My holdings shall we say? Humans have always used the brew to keep themselves awake, which they needed to do to meet with me. That and cigarettes, I was very happy that Sookie did not smoke, the burning tobacco, processed as it is into the sticks of the day smells vile and reminds me of garbage more than a sweet herb. But the images of the smoke and the stained coffee mugs awakened more than just memories to me, they put me on the cusp of something important, and I strained for it, even semi conscious.

The scent, the scent of coffee, there was something about that. Or was it something about a meeting? Damn, I could not admonish my semi-conscious self too much, for obvious reasons. I let the waves carry me where they would, hoping that the answer would reveal itself to me, even as I listened to my lover above me. She went out, but not for long, and when I did wake fully she was home, sitting at the kitchen table, a few papers in front of her, her cell phone temporarily quiet, and a pencil and pad. She looked up to see me, forcing a smile onto a peaked face that hardly looked rested. She had pulled her hair back into her efficient ponytail, which I hated, and done minimal make-up, not that she looked any the worse for wear without it.

"How was your day my beauty?" I walked to her at a sedate pace, as much as I simply wanted to sweep her up in my arms and kiss all of her pain away.

"Andy gave me a few things for you, and I went over to Sam's trailer to see if there was anything there."

"What did you find?" I sat down beside her and took the papers she offered.

"Nothing." She sobbed, and let her head fall into her hands.

"My darling." I wrapped my arms around her collapsed shoulders and drew her to my chest. "You cannot take on the whole responsibility for solving this mystery yourself."

"Andy is out of his league, you know that Eric."

I did.

"This isn't a normal crime Eric, just read the reports." I did that as well. To give the coroner credit, he had done a very thorough job, though I wished Sookie had not read the autopsy reports, the imagery of that could not have helped her mindset any. He reported no obvious signs of external trauma, no bruising, no petechiae in the conjunctivae, or anywhere else for that matter, so he hadn't been asphyxiated or beaten. His heart was in perfect shape, his lungs as well, no signs of drowning. The blood on his face had not been explained, but I saw no mention of any examination of his ears, and I made a note to ask Andy about it, though it was probably nothing. The only thing they were waiting on were toxicology reports, those took a few weeks as I understood, especially coming from a low profile rural setting such as Bon Temps. I could have made some calls, had things sped up, but it would not have changed the fact that Sam was still gone, and Sookie was still suffering.

"I will see what I can do Sookie." I offered, still not certain exactly what that might be, but needing to say something to reassure her.

"Would you Eric?"

"Of course I will. Let me wash up," I was a little dusty from my day in the ground, "and we will start making calls together."

That seemed to liven her up just a little, and I felt it would be all right to have a quick shower. I encouraged her to try to eat something as well because I could feel her hunger. My beauty did neglect herself when she was concerned with others. She was on the phone when I returned, her home phone, twisting the ancient black cord into ringlets on her finger as she spoke, though she was not the one doing most of the talking, as her portion of the conversation was limited to yes's and no's. I refrained from listening in on the other speaker, and instead collected and warmed a bottle of Tru Blood for myself, I had not fed in more than a day, and while that was normally not a problem for me, I too was feeling hungry. Or perhaps it was just the bond?

"That was Terry." She told me as she joined me in the living room. I was surprised, I had not known the man to engage in long conversations before, he had been crippled by his PTSD, and while not immovable given the right stimulation, he was not one for chatting.

"Yes?"

"He says that the funeral will be the day after next. Andy has told him that the coroner is releasing the body to the funeral home in the morning. He wants to arrange it. I think I should help him."

"Of course you should. He could use the support."

Terry Bellefleur had one friend, besides his cousin, Andy, and that was Sam. Sam had given him a job, and a purpose. I could understand why he wanted to be the one to do this for him. But he would get overwhelmed, and I knew Sookie, as fragile as she was, would keep him on an even keel. In some ways Terry reminded me of another broken man with a locked up memory. I had not seen Bubba in a great while, and sentimentally I wondered if he was fairing well. It seemed it was a day and a night for memories, and perhaps that is as it should have been.

"I'll meet him tomorrow afternoon then, we can get it sorted."

"What would you like to do tonight?"

"You finish with the police report and then maybe we can go and see Holly, I'll bet she's still a mess about everything."

"And you will eat something?"

"I promise."

I held her to that promise, even though it was just a bowl of breakfast cereal with milk. It was something, and it helped calm my anxiety as well. The police report offered nothing Andy had not already disclosed, and coupled with the coroner's observations I knew that the mainstream policing was not going to figure it out. I did call Andy about my concerns with the autopsy, and while he seemed to dismiss my concerns about Sam's ears, he appreciated that the blood in them should have been investigated, likely an omission on the part of the new coroner. Mike Spence's replacement was another older man, set in his methods Andy related. I still marveled at the familiarity he was giving me. But even with his reassurances, the disturbance I had sensed weighed on my mind, and whatever its connection was to something in my past. I waited for my mind to sort it out as I tidied up after Sookie as she put on some makeup, and we went out to speak with Holly.

Sookie was right, she was a mess.