The night air had a bit of a chill to it, and I wore only a thin tank top and shorts. I went completely cold, though, when I saw who stood in front of me.
Eric.
My mind flung expletives together in complex chains that wouldn't ever be carried through my vocal chords, but I enjoyed their presence just the same. What was he doing here? What could he possibly want from me now? Though I felt nauseous at the sight of him, my body's reaction was entirely the opposite. His presence was calming, sent a soothing rush of serenity and pleasure through me, putting to rest the odd apathetic mood that had been hanging around me like a second skin. The schism inside me deepened when he came closer, looked down at me like he had the first night we kissed. The silent internal battle froze my body, kept me static in the doorframe, unable to react.
"Going to let me in? Eric asked as he pulled me out of the way, turned me to the side so he could angle past me, like mist on the wind, its fingers brushing past my cheek, through my hair, against my scalp so I shivered, feeling the effect of him down my back, a strange mix of need and anger. I turned back to the night once he was inside, looked at the sky and the building across from me until I couldn't distinguish one shape from another, until they formed a murky pool of nothing before my eyes. They regained their outline, their textures when Eric grabbed my elbow, shaking everything back into focus. The clarity in front of me gave little comfort; I'd become myopic, focused solely on his touch. But I wrenched away from him as if he'd burnt me, though he would never hold enough heat to do so.
"Let's talk." Eric said, motioning me back into the house. His voice wasn't the giving one I'd come to know. These words were empty, bored.
"Now you want to talk?" I said quietly, slamming the door behind me, satisfied with the loud thud it made. "Well, you already fucked me. What else could you possibly need?"
"Charming."
"Were you expecting a welcoming party?"
"It would have been a nice touch." Eric took my arm again, led me into my own living room, where we sat on the couch, facing one another. I scooted back until I was up against the soft cloth of the arm, the farthest away I could get from him without sitting on the floor.
"What do you want, Eric?"
"How have you been, Elliot?" He crossed his leg, letting his foot rest on his knee so it was parallel to the floor, and went still, which made me itch to move; to lick my lips, scratch at my collarbone, to fidget like a child. Instead, I folded my hands in my lap, tilted my head and raised my eyebrows, forming the most condescending facial expression I could make.
"I've been well, thank you. And you?" If he was going to start this game, I could play with the best of them. Women are the masters of mind games, anyway. I was annoyed, though, that he wasn't reading clearly to me. His body was languid, relaxed, as was his face. Either he'd been brilliant at acting vulnerable the first time we'd met, or he was actively denying me any visible clues now.
"Bored." He replied. That same hardness in his voice solidified the truth his words.
"That's a shame." I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was early; Eric had all night to do whatever it was he wanted with me. He surveyed the room as I spoke, taking in the boxes and labels.
"Going somewhere?"
"Home. I'm taking the bar back there." Why was I telling him this? Why was he asking?
"Convenient," he murmured, almost as an afterthought, speaking to himself.
"What do you mean?" I was getting angry now; he was playing with me, a cat circling its prey. I couldn't let myself get backed into a corner.
"Going to live with your parents while you study for the bar?"
"They're dead," I lied, holding back a wince.
"Not bad, for a human." he smirked, the corners of his mouth jumping up. He knew he was winning, that I was bluffing. I decided to play dumb.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Really? Because I'm sure Lynn and Kevin Hunt would be surprised to hear their daughter say that."
Shit. This was bad. How did he find out about them? I used a pseudonym at work and got paid under the table so no trace of the hotel could ever be associated with me.
"But, I guess they'd also be surprised to find out that their little darling was a whore to vampires, parading around as Miss Elliot Smith. Nice name choice, by the way." I wanted to slap the self-satisfaction off his face, out of his voice. He'd violated me, and then did the same to my privacy.
"Leave my parents out of this," I snarled, over-enunciating each word. "Doing what I did, being a whore--your whore, I might add, was the only way I could put myself through law school."
"Touching. I wonder though, what kind of job opportunities you'd have if people found out what you've been doing down here."
"You--" I stuttered, choking on anger and hate, "You fucking monster." He was threatening my livelihood and the reputation of my parents--but for what? He wanted me for something, badly enough to go after my family for it. For me. "Don't you have any honor?"
"It's overrated," He said, looking bored. "I have a proposition for you. Take it, and no one will ever know what you did down here."
"And if I don't?" He leaned forward, toward me, invading my personal space to show that he was the one with the power and that I was backed into a corner, literally and figuratively. The soft light from my overhead lamp shadowed his strong features so they were softer, almost delicate, and cast a glow that made his skin look warm. His hard eyes were the sole indicator of the malignance under his angelic exterior. His mouth opened, just a sliver, but I saw that his fangs were out. Again, I realized that this was the true version of Eric: the ruthless predator. His human appearance was merely a façade used to lure the unsuspected in. I'd fallen for it. Hook, line and sinker.
"I will ruin your life, and that of everyone you care about."
"What do you want?" My body shook, but my voice was steady, if a bit soft.
"Work for me fore one year, and I will let you go with no further stipulations."
"Doing what? I was getting hoarse, fighting back an ache in my throat that squeezed at my esophagus and tightened my chest. I wouldn't give into it. I wouldn't cry.
"I need a more competent day coordinator. I own a bar. You'd be arranging our live bands, overseeing deliveries, and hiring new staff. And some nights, you'll work or just be present to gauge the atmosphere, see who might be there for the wrong reasons."
"Why do you want me there? What's the point?"
"You're good with people. I can see that. And no one who interviewed for the job had anything approaching common sense."
"What do I tell my parents? Hey, I was coming home, but now I think I'll stay in a state I've complained about for three years?"
"I don't care what you tell them. It's not my problem." He leaned back, made himself comfortable on the couch. "So. What's your answer?"
The room was spinning out of control and I was being looped around, faster and faster until I pulled apart, emotions and thoughts collapsing into a jumbled mess. I had to protect my parents, couldn't break their hearts about my job--but my life was slipping away in front of me. Eric would absorb me, spit me out and never think twice. I had to do it, had to protect my future, my dreams.
"I'll do it," I said. Eric started to stand, but I put a finger up and remained seated. "I have a few terms."
"Oh?" He spoke to me like a child. Patronizing bastard.
"What's the name of the bar?"
"Fangtasia." I snorted. How kitschy.
"You need to make sure when I get paid, it won't be traced back to you or the bar. Ever. And do you have a law firm that represents you in…" I realized I had no idea where Eric was from. "Where do you live?"
"Shreveport, Louisiana. And yes, I have a lawyer."
"You're going to call that lawyer and have me put on the payroll, as well as the directory. If one of my parents calls the office, you need to make sure everyone in the staff knows who I am, even if every time they call, I'm busy or not there. I can't be found out."
"Done." He stood, and this time I didn't stop him. "Let's go." He motioned for me to follow him, but I didn't move.
"Go where?"
"Louisiana. We have a flight to catch." His calm demeanor only stoked the fire of my aggression. I hated him so deeply in that second that looking at him, at his perfect body and face, knowing that he'd been inside of me, tasted me (and I, him) tied my stomach in knots, allowing the acid there to seep out until it coated everything in my body.
"What about my apartment? My car?"
"I've already called associates to pack up your apartment and drive your car down. But we must go. I suggest you change," he said, taking in my skimpy outfit of pajama shorts and a tank top with almost cartoonish disgust.
"Sorry," I fumed. "I didn't expect to be forced into servitude today. Had I known, I would have dressed appropriately. Then again, chains are hard to find on such short notice." Eric just stared at me, the way one does when examining a bug.
"Fuck you," I muttered as I strode past him to change in my room.
"What was that?" he called to my retreating back.
"Sorry," I said, then yelled back, louder, "Fuck you!" With that, I slammed my bedroom door and pulled jeans and a very light sweater out of an open suitcase. They were only slightly wrinkled, and I could have cared less right then about making any sort of impression on anyone. I snatched my ipod from where it had been charging on its dock, stuffed it into my purse and went back to the living room.
"Ready?" I nodded. "Leave your keys in the mailbox." I walked out the door, took a last look into the apartment, my home, and started when I saw a limo waiting in the driveway. Eric, seeing that I hadn't followed his orders, snatched the key lanyard that had been hanging limply from my wrist and put it in the mailbox at the end of the driveway before opening the door to the limo and motioning for me to get in. My steps were slow and stiff, like I'd forgotten how to walk. Internally, I was screaming, shouting as loudly as I could that this was not right, this was not fair. I'd been had, then enslaved. My breath started to come quicker and before I could touch the car door, steady myself with its stable metal, spots obscured my vision and the blood that ran through me pounded in my ears. I faltered, then my knees buckled. I hit the ground hard, scraping my palms, jeans and knees against the rough asphalt. For a moment, or an hour, I stared a the ground beneath me until I was yanked up by my arm and gracelessly shoved into the limo.
"Ow," I grimaced, dazed, looking at my hands. Some skin had been torn off entirely, showing the shiny pink layer underneath. Blood bubbled to the surface while I watched, and Eric, who had gotten in on the other side so he face me, reached out to take my hand.
"No," I hissed, pulling it back into my body. Not me. Ever again. He just sat back and studied me for a long moment.
"We'll see."
The ride to the airport was short--I only lived 10 minutes away, but we pulled into a private terminal, one I hadn't seen before. A few Cesna planes were parked outside, but we pulled directly into the hangar, where a banner greeted us: Welcome to Anubis Air.
It didn't take long to load Eric's coffin into the puddle-jumper that would be taking s to Louisiana, and I had no baggage, so the flight was prepping for take-off fifteen minutes after we got on. The inside held only four passenger seats; the rest had been ripped out, furnished with coffin holders in their stead. Eric didn't climb into his light-tight box, as I expected, but I remembered it was still night. Fantastic. I'd have the pleasure of his company during the flight. After the pilot came out and delivered the usual flying spiel, I went into my purse for my ipod, but found something else first; allergy medication I 'd stopped taking because it knocked me out so thoroughly I'd once slept for thirteen hours under its influence. I opened the bottle, spilled four pills into my palm (two more than the recommended dose. Oops.) and knocked them back with a dry swallow. My purse was gone from my lap by the time my hand left my mouth.
"What did you take?" Eric rifled through my bag before finding the prescription bottle. "What is this for?"
"The label's right there--" I pointed to the directions. He frowned at them, unsure of what they did, the medication they contained.
"Oh, yeah. You've probably never been around pharmaceuticals, huh? Pills outsmart the big, bad vampire." He gave my purse back to me, jaw tight.
"Don't push me, Elliot." His words were laced with quiet fury.
"Gonna fire me?" Sarcasm rolled off my own words. If he gave it, he could take it.
"This can be a mildly pleasant year, or the worst one you've ever had. You choose."
He ignored me after that, faced forward and became still. Ten minutes passed and the pills hit my system, bringing me down a few notches so I almost melted into the chair. The plane shifted on its axis, though I knew it was really my inner ear sending me for a ride. I nodded a few times, teasing around the perimeter of sleep while my eyelids fluttered toward my cheeks. I let them fall, let myself give in to the chemicals that spread through me like a warm drink.
"Elliot," Eric shook my shoulder a little too hard so my head bobbed on my neck. With one eye opened into a slit, I peered out at him, his furrowed brow, then let go entirely into the blackness.
When I came back to reality, I was being shaken again, though this time the hands that gripped my shoulders were much smaller, though just as cold as Eric's.
"Wha?" I was groggy, unsure of where I was, or who with. I tried to open my eyes, but it proved difficult--they were stuck shut, filled with what felt like silt. I used my fingers to pry them open and rub them clear of debris; my sight was blurry, but there. The arms holding me were attached to a petite woman who was looking at me intently, almost amusedly. Her hair was long, blonde. She wore a crisp light blue polo and a pearl necklace, the very archetype of a second-grade teacher.
"Who are you?" I asked, trying to jerk away, out of her grasp, but it did little more than leave fingertip-shaped bruises on my shoulders.
"Sit still," a voice beside me said. Eric. The events of the night came back to me, and I sagged under the woman's hands, back into the supportive leather behind me. She loosened her grip, slid her fingers through my hair, lifted a lock to her nose and inhaled deeply.
"She has nice hair," the woman commented, taking her hands off me entirely. I felt my eyes widen, then narrow, and my mouth pulled up into a sneer. What was I, a puppy she was inspecting to be bred?
"Careful, Goldilocks. I bite too." God, when my mouth opened, it went big. But I hid behind the bluff, squared my jaw and kept my gaze level on her flawless face.
"Feisty," she said, appraising me again with what could almost pass for a smile. "I may have to borrow you from Eric sometime."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," I retorted. I wasn't going to show fear while in a tank filled with sharks. They wouldn't have the satisfaction of my blood in their water. Eric turned to me, then the woman.
"Behave, Pam." It was a gentle rebuke, one made not for her sake, but mine. Now he was protecting me? The guy had more settings than a blender.
"You'll be staying at my house tonight, Elliot, until I can get you an apartment. I said nothing, ignored his voice completely.
"We're going to Fangtasia first," Pam purred, her voice like honey in he heat; languid, rich, though something told me she wasn't quite so sweet.
"I'm so thoroughly prepared to go clubbing," I grumbled, sounding like a six-year-old who'd been denied a cookie.
"I think I may have something in the back that would fit you." Pam's eyes raked over my body, making sure to take in the few curves I had.
"Great." I rolled my eyes. "Going to help me to put it on, too?"
"If you want." She moved her gaze to Eric. "And here I thought you were going to bring back a southern belle."
"Hardly," I said, my words stiff. "And you're not exactly the purest of English roses." Pam concentrated on me again, intrigued. She cocked her head, got closer to me so slowly she almost slithered.
"How did you know I'm English?"
"I lived there for a year. You hold out your 'r's and pronounce your 't's. We swallow the t sound in the north, and neither is a trait of the south."
"Huh." Pam said, a noncommittal noise that belied nothing. Her mask was good. She spoke again, in a language I didn't understand but assumed was Swedish. Assholes. Eric smirked, and I was beginning to suspect it was his favorite expression. I closed my eyes to keep from screaming, but didn't know how long I could go before I erupted. Luckily, the car stopped in front of a building that cast a red glow into the street. Written in gaudy script, a neon sign glared above the front doors: Fangtasia.
"Lovely." My words were dry as the Sahara; both vampires caught my tone.
"Come," Eric said, pushing me toward the door. I fumbled with the handle until I finally connected with the handle and spilled out into the night. I breathed in large gulps, pulled the air in and held my hands to my side, glad to be out of confined spaces. Before I could help myself, tears started falling. I pivoted on my heel, away from the car and jumped when my back pocket buzzed. I pulled my ringing phone out and saw it was my mom.
Could the night get worse?
"Hey mom," I said, trying to muffle the tears in my voice.
"Hey sweetie. You alright?"
"Yeah, mom." I scraped my hand across my eyes. "You'll never guess what happened!"
"What, Elliot?"
"I got a job offer as a clerk until I pass the bar!" My mom gasped, excited for my nonexistent job opportunity.
"What firm?" I turned around, ashamed of the wetness on my face as I mouthed to Eric 'what firm?' He was at my side in a second, whispering in my ear.
"Pierce and Heed," he said, before licking my ear. My arm shot out, pushed him away and fresh tears formed in my eyes. I repeated the name into the phone and my mom congratulated me.
"It's in Louisiana," I said, biting my lip so hard it throbbed, warm and sharp.
"Wow." She was disappointed. "So you're not coming home?"
"I wish I could, mom, but this job could do so much for me."
"I know, Elliot. I just miss you is all." I choked, and it was a few seconds before I could speak again.
"I'll visit, mom. I promise. But I have to go, Jess and I are going out for a celebration drink."
"Alright, honey. I love you. Cal me in the morning?"
"I will. Love you too, mom. Goodbye." I ended the call and sank to my knees for the second time that day, in the middle of the parking lot. My hands went to my head, clawed at the hair above my ears. I dug my nails into my scalp, unable to focus on anything because the world had just fallen away, leaving me alone with my tormenters. Two sets of hands pulled me up, and with their support, I stagger walked to the back door, then through what I assumed were offices at the back of the club. We came into a larger room that had a couch and a desk with various bottles of True Blood on it. They sat me down, let me go and I unfurled, laid sideways and stared at nothing, tears forming and falling from the corners of my eyes. I didn't hear them leave, but when I looked up, focused on the rather bare room, full of plain shelves, I saw that they were gone. I sat up on the couch and saw assorted alcohol paraphernalia; shirts, posters, boxes.
Pam clicked back into the room, her dramatic pumps announcing her arrival twenty paces before she actually got there. She held a green dress that shimmered softly, made of silk so expensive the material puddle, liquid in her hands. She stopped in front of me.
"Get up." I didn't move, tested the waters of her words instead.
"Get up, or I get you up. And dress you." She wasn't kidding.
"That's what you want? To play with your new human?" I stood up on shaking legs, pulling clothes off as I went. The sweater was lost first, balled up, then thrown across the room. Next came the tank top underneath; I reached for my belt, but she beat me to it, sliding it out of the loops on my pants. She shucked my jeans down, away from my skin. I stepped out of them and turned in a circle.
"Here are the goods, Pam." She took I my scantily-clad body and licked her lips. Her fangs were out slightly. I cupped my bra-clad breasts. "36 B," I said, then moved my hands to my hips. "Size six." I held my arms out straight. "A positive. Anything else you need to know?"
"No," She murmured, tracing a finger up my arm, over the long vein under my skin. "I think that will do it. Now, put this on." I took the hanger, unzipped the dress and pulled it over my legs.
"I'm a goddamn paper doll." The words were mumbled under my breath, but she heard them.
"Yeah," she deadpanned. "Now I have my very own Barbie. Wrong hair color, though."
I rolled my eyes, secured the halter strap behind my neck and allowed Pam to zip me up. The dress was slightly loose, but its exquisite design was forgiving. The black flats I had on matched closely enough, and after fluffing my hair a bit and putting on eyeliner, cat's-eye style, Pam deemed me acceptable enough to go out into the club. I followed her lead, taking her hand so I wouldn't get lost as we passed through the back into the actual bar and weaved through a sea of people. She glanced back at me, but said nothing. We arrived at the bar, where a female bartender was looking at a couple of tourists, bored to tears with their ignorant questions and interests. I frowned at them, but they only had eyes for her. When they asked where she'd been turned, she excused herself and came over to where Pam and I stood.
"This is Elliot," Pam explained, speaking normally, though the music was so loud and bass-heavy I would have had to shout to be understood. "The new day manager." The bartender nodded at me, and I got a closer look at her. She was pretty, had olive skin and liquid black eyes. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, but still almost made its way to her butt.
"Tonight," Pam continued, "She has whatever she wants, on the house." I narrowed my eyes, started to ask Pam why, but she was gone, and I was left surrounded by strangers.
"Fantastic," I muttered to myself. The place was packed, and I was in no mood for a crowd. I leaned over the bar and smiled at the woman.
"Can I have a double vodka and cranberry, please? She nodded, swishing her ponytail. Its shine was intense; she had the kind of hair I'd always dreamed of, smooth as silk. I was stuck with wavy hair that did whatever it pleased. She handed me the drink a minute later, her hands as cold as the glass. I tipped it back and gulped continuously until it was gone, then repeated with a fresh drink. I turned around, pushed away from the bar and felt the effects of the alcohol almost immediately--I'd forgotten that I hadn't eaten anything all day. Someone must have spilled their drink earlier, because I stepped into something wet; the drinks didn't help my balance, and after a split second of 'Oh, shit, I'm actually going to fall' realization, I was hurtling toward the floor. Hands caught me around the waist, and I looked up into the friendly face of an attractive, California-looking blonde man.
"Thanks," I said, gratefully. "Falling would have been tremendously annoying."
"Glad to save you the frustration," he smiled, still holding onto me. His temperature told me he wasn't a member of the living.
"I'm Josh," he said, and let me go as I found my footing and stood up straight. He stuck his hand out. Funny, I'd never seen a vampire shake anyone's hand before.
"Elliot." I took his hand, though, and he brought it to his lips, laying a light kiss on the skin.
"You're not local," he observed, inching a bit closer.
Fuck.
"No, I'm from New York," It was sort of close, regionally. "The city."
"What brings you down here?" He asked, and I went blank. What was I supposed to say? Well, Josh, I'm here, being held against my will because a psycho vampire has gone to the trouble of blackmailing me for no apparent reason?
Probably not.
"Just…looking around," I covered, lamely. I needed a distraction, something that would keep him from latching onto my vague, shifty explanation.
"Want to dance?" I asked, saying the first thing that popped into my head.
His eyes gleamed; my ruse worked.
"Yeah." He offered his arm; I took it and led him too the dance floor, scanning the room as I went, taking in a plethora of sights. Humans in barely-there clothes, vampires intoxicated by the living's pounding hearts, their pulsing blood. Both fed their various addictions; danger, excitement for the humans, who sought the supernatural tales they'd learned as children, and the vampires with their insatiable lusts for blood and sex. Josh and I found a free patch on the dance floor, and he moved with me, back and forth to the tempo. I lifted my arms, rolled my hips like I'd learned from the belly-dancing class I'd taken, and let him get closer so he could brush my hair from my shoulders, trace down my back and run his hands up my arms. He danced behind me, hands on my hips, and we flowed together rhythmically, until I felt him pull away. I turned to see what the problem was, and took a step back. Eric was there. He took a step closer, offered his hand and addressed both of us.
"Mind if I cut in?"