A/N: I apologize for the delay, guys, but I really did need a bit of a break. Now please, keep the pitchforks down, ha ha. (Runs away and hides in anticipation of the lynch mob). Love you guys, honest!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or stories from The Southern Vampire series. I can only hope that Ms. Harris does not mind me taking them out to play with.

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The two nights and two plane switches required to make his way to Venice convinced Eric he needed to purchase a more substantial private aircraft, one capable of crossing the Atlantic. These trips to Europe had become more frequent now that he was King, and he refused to fly during daylight hours unless absolutely necessary. Many in his position had no problem hiring shifter bodyguards for these sorts of occasions, but Eric had seen enough vampires fall prey to their enemies due to placing their security in the wrong hands.

Now that the shifters were out of the proverbial 'supernatural closet' as well, tensions with humanity had grown significantly. Eric knew it was only a matter of time before things would begin to come to a head, most likely when the next species decided to make their presence known. The once radical ideas of groups like the Fellowship had morphed into more legitimate political organizations, but there were still plenty of fringe militia groups. The religious and political divides that once separated humanity, leading to acts of terrorism and war, were slowly transitioning and bearing down on their new target. As Phemonoe predicted, it was becoming more clear as the years passed that the undercurrents of war had already begun. Humanity would unite against a perceived common threat. The question was whether the 'supes' would be able to put aside their ancient rivalries and do the same. Only time would tell that tale. Opening moves were only just beginning; the path to checkmate would be a long one with many pieces captured along the way.

Eric arrived at Hotel Danieli shortly before dawn after his second night of travel. Being a King certainly had its perks, as he was immediately greeted by the concierge, and taken straight to his suite. It was one of only two rooms in the luxury hotel that had been made safe for his kind. The hotel was actually three separate castles, from the 14th, 19th, and 20th century, that had been joined together by spectacular covered bridges. It was situated right in the heart of Venice, steps away from the Piazza San Marco, home to the Basilica, and offered sweeping views of the Grand Canal, lagoon and surrounding islands. Eric's suite was located in the oldest building, once the palace of Doge Dandolo, with all the grandeur one would expect of a Gothic castle. The lobby was an architectural masterpiece of pink marble, stained glass, columns covered in gold leaf, and massive Murano glass chandeliers. Every suite in this building was unique, furnished with a perfect blend of antique pieces and modern comforts. Since this was an unexpected trip, Pam had overnighted all the clothing and provisions he would need from his compound in New Orleans, and everything was already unpacked and waiting for him in his suite.

Having checked his e-mail shortly after rising the next night, Eric knew he was to meet Bill in the hotel lobby in an hour for a briefing, and they would meet with King Bianchi a couple hours after. Stepping into the shower, Eric pondered whether or not he would take a real meal this evening. For the first six months or so of Sookie's absence he'd subsisted entirely on synthetic, but his nature and hunger eventually got the better of him. While True Blood was still the main stay of his diet, he would partake of the real thing about once a month. Generally he stuck with the high-priced whores, which were good for a feed and a fuck without any of the fangbanger bullshit. His days of enthralling the vermin were long behind him. He still owned Fangtasia, but hadn't stepped foot inside since moving to New Orleans, having left Clancy (who was also the new Sheriff of Area 5) and Indira to run the bar. It was not near as profitable as it once was, but enough that Eric hung onto it.

Eric considered that after meeting with Antonio, he and Bill would undoubtedly take in the atmosphere of Venice. Bill would encourage him to find some amusement (and dinner) with a local, and Eric would probably relent. It was all well and good to expound the virtues of chivalry and honor, but he is vampire, not an altruistic knight. The notion of abstaining from feeding and sex for a prolonged period of time were as absurd as the idea of a human purposely ceasing to breathe. It was his nature, his instinct, part of the very make-up of his kind. He honored his bonded as he should, never allowing her memory to fade, and certainly never forming attachment to another.

Finishing his shower, Eric toweled off and ran a comb through his hair. He dressed himself in a maroon, ultra-suede button down, black dress slacks and shoes, and his Ouroboros belt. He would leave his hair loose this evening. He slipped on a tailored leather jacket, grabbed his cell phone and room key, and he was soon headed down to the lobby.

Eric made his way to a small seating group in the corner of the lobby where he spotted Bill, who immediately rose and bowed in greeting.

"Your Majesty."

Eric nodded, "It is good to see you, Compton."

The two vampires strolled toward the main doors. "I trust your trip was pleasant?" Bill inquired.

"Hardly," Eric laughed as they made their way outside. "I have already sent instruction to Pam to purchase a new private aircraft."

Bill chuckled, pausing in front of the hotel, "I am surprised it took you so long." He gestured off to his right, "There is an outdoor café off the Piazza suitable for some discussion."

Eric nodded his assent, and they continued their walk in comfortable silence, allowing him to take in the sights of the square. He hadn't been to Italy in many decades, but always enjoyed returning to the old world. There was a crassness about America he was always reminded of when he came to Europe. Sometimes he missed being surrounded by its history and tradition. There was something different in the air here, as if it were charged with energy from ancient mysteries and secrets, long forgotten by most.

They made their way past the Basilica and continued down an older road into the back streets of Venice. Tourists rarely ventured down these paths, especially after dark. The old stucco homes and small stores loomed over the narrow cobblestone streets, lines for laundry strung overhead. The smells of fresh bread and pastries, baked during the night hours by local artisans, hung gently in the cool night air. Since Venice was in the extreme Northern part of the country, the cuisine here was more Germanic than Italian, which thankfully meant the stink of garlic was not prevalent.

They arrived at the small café, an out of the way establishment probably family owned and operated, which clearly catered to the locals, rather than the tourist scene. It was basic in its appointments, and one would barely notice it if they didn't know it was there. Upon entering, Eric realized immediately why Bill had chosen this place. The man behind the bar nodded deeply toward him as they made their way through the building to the patio out back. Eric's quick count of the occupants revealed four vampires (including the bartender), three shifters, and a few human companions.

"The owner is Romani," Bill remarked as they seated themselves at the far end of the patio.

Eric arched a brow, and Bill gave a subtle nod in answer to his silent question. While the term Romani generally referred to the scattered ethnic group, it had more significant meaning in the supernatural world. Most of the Romani were humans just like any other, but their lines were rich in the blood of the mystical Gypsies of old. Very few who still possessed those gifts were left, their numbers having been all but depleted throughout centuries of persecution. They were human, but revered among most of the supes for their psychic abilities and ancient wisdoms.

It did not take a genius to put two and two together, and Eric was rapidly becoming annoyed. He'd already known his trip here had little or nothing to do with the database. Compton was more than capable of negotiating an amicable agreement, even with one as irritating as Antonio. Certainly any small trivialities could have been handled over the phone. However, Eric expected there was some darker political purpose to this meeting, one that required his presence. Now he was questioning whether this trip had anything to do with Bianchi at all.

"Bill," he said, a hint of warning in his voice. "Why have you brought me here under false pretenses?"

Eric noticed Bill's eyes flick to his watch, seeming discontent with the time it read. That subtle look told Eric this conversation was beginning before Bill had intended, increasing his own agitation. He did not appreciate being 'handled', especially by his subordinate and friend.

"Out with it, Bill. Is there even a meeting with Bianchi?" Eric's tone had taken on that low yet commanding tone.

"No," Bill answered flatly, taking a sip of the True Blood a waitress had brought out to them.

Eric locked his eyes onto Bill, giving him the silent 'I'm waiting' look. For the moment he'd give Bill the benefit of the doubt that he hadn't duped Eric into flying here just to have some old fortune teller read his cards. He knew Bill was desperate to find Sookie, but Eric would seriously begin to question the young vampire's sanity if that's what this was about.

Bill looked up then, and Eric became slightly alarmed by the fleeting shadow of pain that momentarily crossed his face. "I came to Venice to track down a vampire I was lead to believe may have information on Elana's Maker."

Eric nodded, acknowledging the logic of that path. Elana had clearly been one of Avel's lackeys, though not a terribly adept one. She'd hoped to prey on Bill's desire for Sookie to manipulate him into a plot to kill Eric, or at least that was how it appeared. There were many things that had yet to add up in Eric's mind about Avel's intentions. If he truly wanted Eric dead, the daemon could easily have accomplished that on his own. Eric also found it impossible to believe Niall and Fintan could have hidden Sookie from Avel if he really wanted to find her. The daemon might not be a god, but he may as well be in relation to the powers of a vampire or fairy. Eric's mind was often plagued by trying to see the truth of Avel's game, but contradictions abounded, and his endgame remained elusive.

"Go on," Eric said coolly, though his patience was wearing thin.

"The lead was a dead end," Bill replied, taking another sip of True Blood, then adding, "At least, as far as it concerned Elana."

Eric growled a bit, "Are you purposely trying my patience, Bill?"

Compton rose from his chair, turning his back to Eric, and leaning his arms on the low wall that surrounded the patio. Eric watched him intently, trying to discern what was weighing so heavily on Bill's mind. He felt his jaw tightening a bit, realizing that whatever he was about to hear, he was probably not going to like.

"Eric..." Bill spoke softly, not turning to face him.

Eric fought the feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach.

Bill's voice was barely a whisper on the wind. "She's here, Eric. Here in Venice. She works as a waitress in this very café. Her shift starts at ten."

Eric stared, wide-eyed, at Bill's back. "Who does, Bill?" Eric knew exactly who the 'she' was, but he had to hear it. Hear it out loud.

Bill finally turned around, leveling is pained gaze at Eric. "Sookie."

While his face remained stone still, Eric's insides were churning. "Tell me the rest."

Bill returned wearily to his seat and began to tell what he knew. "Giovanna; she is the Romani, tells me Sookie wandered into the café about five years ago looking for work. She told Giovanna that her name was Bella, and that she came from a small town in the mountains of Abruzzo. She'd moved to Venice in the hopes of an apprenticeship at the Murano glass factory, saying her family had fallen on hard times. Apparently she was not granted the apprenticeship and eventually wound up here. Giovanna appreciated her calm demeanor around the vampires and gave her a job, as well as boarding Sookie in her home."

It was now Eric's turn to get up, and he began to pace the length of the small patio. His mind was swimming, having no idea what to make of this. Sookie had been here, on the earthly plane, for at least five years. He could no more sense her through the bond now than he could prior to arriving in Italy. He stopped pacing, looking at Bill with a demand for him to continue.

Bill sighed, "She did not recognize me, Eric. She greeted me as a stranger."

Eric arched a brow, finally speaking. "She has amnesia?" The irony of that possibility was not lost to him.

"Not exactly," Bill said quietly. "She has not aged a day... she speaks fluent Italian... she has knowledge of an entire history of life that never occurred. I sense no deception from her, she truly believes the things she says. When I attempted to convince her we knew each other she got incredibly upset. I eventually was forced to say I'd made a mistake in order to prevent her from fleeing."

Eric slumped down into his chair, trying to wrap his mind around all of this. Was it possible his bonded would not know him either? How could she have been here all this time and he never knew?

"There's one more thing," Bill said hesitantly, with a tone that sent a jolt of deep concern through Eric.

Eric looked at him, knowing he did not want to hear what was coming. All he cared about in this moment was that his bonded would soon walk through the door. He could reach her shattered mind, that much he felt sure of. He might need to have her drink from him to help the process along, but any complications could be dealt with. She would soon be back in his arms.

"Eric..." Bill's voice nearly hitched in his throat.

"Spit it out, Compton," Eric said sharply, not in the mood for more games.

"Sookie's engaged."

TBC