IX.
"So how about the fidelity issue?"
Eric was talking about his terms for 'our committed relationship'.
I looked at him and shrugged. It was really almost unbearably hot in here. I'd never been in a sauna before but it was intense. It was different from the Turkish hammam that I went to sometimes with Alla. It was hotter right away, no slow warm up. The heat was much drier at times, too. And because it was a much smaller space, it just felt overwhelming. He'd been thrilled that they'd completed the installation. It was in a separate room right across the hall from his rooms, complete with a separate shower for cooling off. Evidently he'd had a sauna in Shreveport and had been missing it. He had explained they were really Finnish, not Swedish, but they were very popular all throughout Scandinavia. Basically, I was thinking this proved that Scandinavia was either far too cold, or that Scandinavians were a seriously troubled people. It was almost unbearable and I was born and raised in a hot and humid state with bayous.
"What about it? We talked about all that before. You know, I really don't know how much more of this I can take…"
"Of what? The conversation, being faithful to me, the relationship?" he said with a smirk on his face.
"No, Eric, the sauna. Geeeeez. I feel like I'm just going to melt."
He poured more water on the rocks and the room filled with steam again. I really wasn't sure that was an improvement. Plus, it made it harder to see him, which seemed kind of relevant if you were having a serious conversation. But it was probably better than the dry heat. I was glad I had taken my contact lenses out earlier. Eric didn't say much about that but I could tell he really liked it better when it was just my natural eye color. I was sure that if I went back to being blonde he'd be even happier, although he'd been very careful about not saying anything about my hair. But he glared at Pam whenever she said I looked great as a redhead, which she did at least once a night within his earshot. I had decided she must be doing it deliberately to needle him.
"What about it, Lover? Fidelity."
"Eric, we already discussed that long ago. If you still have any questions on the matter, I'm referring you back to the mental transcript you have of our conversation three and a half years ago. Just edit out the part about "if the bond is the only thing," okay? Get rid of that and keep the rest because this sauna thing is going to take every last ounce of energy I have left, which is really sad because I've only been up for a little over an hour."
"It's good for you. Saunas are really good for you. So that's it? That's all you have to say on the subject?"
"When do we get to the cold part? Soon? I thought vampires didn't like heat? You guys always go around in t-shirts when it's snowing. How can you take this? I personally think I'm going to have heat exhaustion. Can I please get out?"
He shook his head disapprovingly and sighed. But he stood up, pulling me to my feet.
"Do you want me to shower with you or stay warm?"
I was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Do you want me to be warm? I'll retain the heat for a bit. Maybe you'd like that?"
I still didn't get it. Then suddenly I got it.
"You mean warm, like for sex?" I gave him an odd look. What the heck? "Really you're fine the way you are, Eric. Besides, you'll be warm for what, like about two minutes? What's the point? And I'd be afraid to leave you in here, frankly. I feel like I'll come out of the shower and find that you melted or something."
He laughed out loud at me, shaking his head. Okay, he thought I was really a complainer. I thought I was being entirely reasonable after almost ten minutes in the thing.
We got out of the sauna (and what a relief just regular air was) and he turned it off while I ran the water for the shower. I checked to make sure my hair was still firmly clipped up.
"So that's still all you have to say on the subject then?" he asked, following me into the shower and putting his arms around me.
The shock of the cold water was incredible. After a couple of seconds my teeth were chattering. I wasn't sure why this was much more intense than going to a hammam, but it really was.
I looked up at him. "What more do you want?" I said, shivering.
"The other half of the conversation. You seem to have absolutely no interest or questions about whether I'd be faithful to you."
"What I don't ask about, I don't get upset about."
He bent his head down toward me and shook it disapprovingly.
"Sookie, you're supposed to be jumping up and down insisting that I be faithful to you. Really."
"Well, my insisting won't make it so, Eric. I'm sure you're going to do whatever you want to do no matter what I insist on or say, so there's really no reason to discuss it."
"So you don't care if I am faithful to you?"
"I didn't say that. I said that I don't think what I want is going to be the deciding factor there."
"Why not? Are you really suggesting that your feelings on the matter would be of no importance to me? That I'd expect you to be faithful to me even if I was unfaithful to you, if we are in a relationship?"
"Okay, now I'm getting really cold. And I think that your attitude is just amazing for a Viking. Did you think this way a thousand years ago?"
He reached around me and turned off the shower.
"Those were different times with different social mores. I'm trying to be modern, Lover. If you want me to act like a Viking, I'm really not so sure you'll enjoy it."
Eric grabbed me at the waist and pulled me to him, grinning down at me in a rather scary fashion. But then he made a silly face, laughed and opened the glass door to the shower. He stepped out offering me his hand. I was shivering and my teeth were still chattering. Amazingly, the sauna now looked somewhat more inviting. I took his hand and stepped out. He picked up a big white towel and toweled me dry. Then he opened the sauna and took out the now warm robe he'd loaned me. He wrapped me in it and hugged me.
I stood there with my head against his damp, silent chest, his arms around me and said,
"Okay, how about this Eric. Follow your heart. With the exception of the few times that I can think of that you've been a sneaky bullshitter with me, I think you're a good person. You say you love me? So just… follow your heart. I haven't agreed to any greater commitment than what we have right now, anyway. You're so into the mine thing. But I'm definitely not deluding myself into thinking the reverse holds true. You choose what you do. I'm not interested in telling you how to be. It seems to me like it might be a mistake given your long life experience for me to start telling you how to live anyway. Just do what your heart tells you is right, okay?"
He pulled away from me and looked at me as if somehow very surprised. Finally, after a full minute of looking at me as if I was utterly inscrutable to him he said with an almost puzzled smile,
"I'll be faithful to you. I just want you to visit regularly, Lover. Maybe every other week? Your living here would be ideal, if they would let you work from here. Perhaps if we get mar…"
I cut him off before he could get any farther carried away.
"Oh no. No you don't. Not that discussion. Not again. I'm not talking anymore about moving anywhere right now, Eric. We already covered that earlier. And the second thing, just… you really need to chill on that one. I've still got 24 days of paid time off. That's one week a month for a few months. Assuming I still have a job when I go back, I can come once a month for a week."
I couldn't even believe this conversation. He had been badgering me about how we were going to make this work for real since the moment the sun set. Probably close to an hour of incessant talk about 'us', about my 'trust issues,' about when I might be able to ask if it was possible to live outside of Virginia for my work, about fidelity. After many years of hearing about all the men in the world who didn't want to talk about anything serious in a relationship sense, it was my good fortune, and I said that to myself rather sarcastically, to have fallen for a guy who not only wanted to talk about our relationship, but wasn't going to quit talking until he had it exactly the way he wanted it.
"What about when you run out of vacation days? That's only three months."
I rolled my eyes and pulled away from him. Geez, the man was so damn relentless! How the hell did I know what I'd do when I ran out of vacation days? Perhaps a downside of loving someone who was practically immortal was that to them, three months was evidently little more than the blink of an eye? Maybe he'd be tired of 'us' by then. Or maybe it was irrelevant if I didn't even really have a job anymore. Just thinking about that possibility started stressing me further. Which was more likely? They'd decide I was too big a risk and fire me? Or they'd piss me off about Eric and I'd have to quit? And what an unbelievable problem it might be to extricate myself from the Bureau if I realized I did have to quit and they didn't want me to quit. After several days of thinking about it I had come to the conclusion that it was most likely that I was simply not the type of asset that they were going to want to let go of unless I was just plain unmanageable. This whole topic was just getting me upset.
"I'm getting stressed out. Cut it out," I said with a definite edge of warning. "Just… quit badgering me already."
He looked down at me. He was so still he looked like he'd been carved in stone. He was totally cool and calm across the bond but it felt totally artificial as if he was forcing himself to be so, purely for the sake of cajoling me into agreeing to everything he wanted. Sometimes I felt as if I had peeled back that layer of cool calm I'd find molten steel that would just harden into whatever tool was needed to get what Eric wanted. I couldn't believe there was ever a time when I hadn't been sure what my feelings were versus what his feelings were. Right now they could be summed up neatly. Me, getting totally stressed out and pissed off. Him, hell-bent on massaging every fiber of the situation into the exact position he wanted it and thinking that he'd just sweet talk me into it. I felt like I was on the verge. And not the verge of giving in.
"We do not have to talk about every fucking detail of everything right now, do we? You said that you would give me time, Eric. You said you could be patient. That was what, all of about twenty minutes ago? I don't even know what I'm going to be doing in two weeks. I may be out of a job, or have problems if the FBI gets all weirded out about us and tries to stash me somewhere to convince me to give you up to stay with the Bureau on their terms. They're going to be sure that you're glamouring the hell out of me to get information or some stupid shit like that. You can't even begin to imagine how these people think, especially my boss's boss. It's going to take my convincing them that I can't be glamoured and that I'm not a big risk and that neither are you. And in the meantime I get to worry that they're going to get all nasty with you and that you'll get all kinds of IRS or Homeland Security shit thrown at you because you made the major mistake of thinking you had some prior claim on me or my life." I buried my face in my hands and took a deep breath. I looked up at him, shaking my head. "Let me just try to deal with it all my way, okay? And please, just let me have some peace right now. Peace, with you. A simple concept, Eric."
I was kidding myself if I thought that was going to happen. He was like a dog with a bone. His jaw was tense, his eyes were starting up with that angry glow and he pursed his lips.
"I know what you do is important, Sookie. You have every right to be proud of your work. I know it's important work and that you are probably quite good at it. But I wish you were still a barmaid. I hate your job, I hate its risks. I hate it that they may pressure you not to be involved with me. I hate the whole thing."
His voice practically vibrated inside me as his eyes just bored into me like lasers. He was rapidly losing his grip on the calm façade. At least he was being totally honest instead of giving me the phony calm bullshit when I could see full well that he was getting mad that I wasn't agreeing to what he wanted exactly as he wanted it. But his honest opinion still pissed me off.
"Gee, really? Yeah, I think I've noticed that, Eric. It's my job, though. And I'm not quitting it just because you have qualms. I'm sorry if my job is an impediment to your plans. No matter what goes on between us, or what your plans are, I'm going to continue to work. At this job or at whatever the hell job I want to work at. Period, end of story. And I hope you can sense that I am getting totally and completely pissed off with your attitude about my desire to work. If you think I don't know what you really think or what you'd really like, you're kidding yourself. You're not sweet talking me into a damn thing or fooling me with the oh, so calm and cool, relentless discussion. And for the record, pissing me off about my work is not a good plan if you want me visiting you or if you want any serious relationship with me at all. So you had better cut it out. This is not a negotiation. My decision is already made." At this point, I was really totally in his face, glaring up at him.
He looked sort of frozen at my words. I felt like I was on a rollercoaster ride, careening from happiness when we first got up to being utterly infuriated at the moment. He, on the other hand, was looking a lot like he'd fallen off the ride after that last part of my take on my work. Not being able to control me was clearly a double-edged sword. He seemed to be almost palpably struggling with the fact that I was not swayed one bit by his displeasure with my job. His face looked like a rapidly changing series of emotions, not so calm and controlled now.
"And if they pressure you to make a choice, what will you do?" he asked quietly. He looked remote as he asked me this.
I looked at him, surprised by the change in the tone of his voice and the sudden remoteness. What was the deal? He'd gone from angry to remote in no time. Then, finally, I could see that under the remains of his calm façade, he was actually looking… and feeling… worried? But like me, he was far too proud to admit it. Maybe he was pushing for more commitment because he was worried I'd leave and it would all be unresolved, just like before? Before had been a disaster. Worried, perhaps, that the job meant more to me than he'd realized… I flashed on the thought that three years before, when the chips were down, I had meant more to him that his job as Sheriff, possibly risking even his life considering what Felipe might have done to him. What a surprising realization that was to me. It simply wasn't how I envisioned Eric at all, even if I was sure he had had some backup plan in case Felipe really fired him. But that was the choice he had made, the risk he'd taken. Maybe he was worried I didn't feel the same? I shivered because I wasn't sure that I wasn't actually reading Eric's thoughts. Maybe it was just simply getting to know him better? I couldn't tell- it was all mingled with feelings and strong emotions. I realized that in some ways, Eric and I were not too different after all. We were both so proud. He was right when he'd said that the other day. Most of all, it finally began to occur to me that maybe he really did love me. Because he was genuinely worried about what I'd choose to do if pressed to choose. It really mattered to him. A lot. Well, it was an easy enough thing to allay whatever worries he had with the simple truth.
"What would I do? Let's just say that if they are intrusive into my private life, I'm not going to be very receptive to the idea, okay? But it's more than that. You already know how I'd react to the idea of your asking me to quit my job. Think about how I'd feel about them asking me to give up someone I love just because they say so, Eric. It's kind of a no-brainer, if you ask me. If that were the deal, you have nothing to worry about, okay? I promise you."
He didn't reply and his eyes still glowed as he looked down at me. But something almost imperceptible in his face relaxed. He didn't say anything but I felt him gradually relax. I kept hanging on the thought that maybe he really meant it. Could he really actually love me? The thought just kind of stunned me.
He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist and picked up his jeans. We crossed from the sauna room back to his rooms. After padding through the library I climbed up on the bed still wrapped in the huge robe.
He dropped the towel and just stood leaning with his hands on the footboard, looking at me.
"What?" I asked softly, meeting his eyes. I swallowed hard and seriously hoped there was no new avenue of stress to explore because I'd had enough and was now lost in my pondering what this powerful man could actually see in me.
He just shook his head. His eyes glowed still as he looked at me.
"What?" I asked again, almost in a whisper.
"You continue to surprise me. I do know you well. Quite well. But you still surprise me. I've never known anyone like you." He looked away for a moment and shook his head and then laughed softly. "I will never be able to thank Bill Compton sufficiently for bringing you into my bar. And for being such a damn fool." He smiled mischievously at those words.
Then he vaulted over the footboard and onto bed and did some playful pillaging.
"Okay, just for the sake of clarity, pretend I'm an idiot and explain this to me again, Mr. C."
I was really sure I was misunderstanding things. What he was telling me just seemed impossible.
"My dear, it's so simple. Everything. He left it to you lock, stock and barrel as they say. All his assets. I really don't know how else to explain it. All of it."
This was the third time going over the details of my great grandfather's wishes. He had left me all his assets before returning to Faery and sealing it off. In Faery they didn't need money. They just used magic. Their magic was weaker in our world. Money supplied many of the things that they couldn't magic into existence here. But if he wasn't going to live here any longer, he didn't need his money, and so he left everything to me. Claude had sold Hooligans and pooled the funds into Niall's accounts, too.
I looked through the papers again. Then I looked up at him and said,
"Well, why?"
Mr. Cataliades simply shrugged.
"He wanted to provide for you. He had to do something with it. It was of no use to him, as he said, and could be of great use to you."
"But, surely he left half to Jason, or…" Eric sank his head into his hand and then rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. Then he glanced over at Mr. Cataliades and shook his head.
"What?" I asked Eric.
"Sookie," Eric said firmly, finally taking over to explain what the half-demon lawyer seemed reluctant to express in bald-faced terms, "Your grandfather didn't leave Jason a dime. He didn't like Jason. Jason reminded him of Dermot. In more ways than one. So he left it all to you. He didn't wish Jason any harm but he wasn't doing him any favors. He liked you. He loved you. He left it all to you. End of story."
I looked at the papers again and blinked at the eight figure total at the end.
"That's a serious hunk of change." I looked over at Mr. Cataliades again. "You're for real? He really left all this money to me?"
Mr. C. just nodded.
"Well, I think that's just plain stupid," I said with a snort.
Eric looked at me with an eyebrow raised. Mr. C., however, looked like he was beginning to think he concurred with me, but probably not for the same reason.
"Seriously. No one person really needs that kind of money, in my opinion. I guess he left in too big a hurry to think about that the fact that no amount of money would make up for what had happened to me and that the money would be better off left to benefit of a greater number of people. Which is exactly where most of it is going to be going."
"But Lover, he wanted to allow you to have the financial freedom not to work and to be truly independent."
Not to work? Did he actually say that? I turned slowly to look at him with my chin jutting out a bit and let out a long slow breath instead of speaking my mind in front of Mr. C. I was seriously starting to think that, on the subject of my working, Eric was thicker than a two by four. He picked up on my immense annoyance.
"Of course, I mean if you don't wish to work," he said correcting himself. "Financial independence was what he had in mind." He smiled a very wry smile. Now he was just having fun with the whole work thing, I could see. Pushing my buttons.
Mr. C. then looked askance at Eric, who nodded. He drew out another file folder from his briefcase and presented me with a document, which I looked over.
"What is this? A prenuptial agreement?" I chortled. "Well, nice idea Mr. C. but it's either too late or too early, depending upon what kind of marriage you'd be looking at, right?"
"It would be prudent to have an agreement for the present degree of attachment."
"Well, I'm not signing anything, sorry. Do I have to pay inheritance tax on this or…" I looked at the account records notes that he'd given me. "Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea. You're telling me that this is after the tax came out of the inheritance? How much did he have originally? Well, considering the entire amount is going to be reduced by about say, ninety percent, I still really don't see the need for any agreement."
Mr. C. looked at me with both eyebrows raised. "What are you going to do with the funds?" he asked apprehensively.
"Well, after I give some of it to Jason to pay off his mortgage and set aside a portion so he'll have some savings… I think it's just plain mean that he'd treat me so differently from Jason- no wonder there were so many problems between Dermot, Dillon and Fintan, right? Jason can't help what he looks like and those were Niall's genes that made him look that way, after all." I said looking at Eric. "Actually, I guess I'll need help doing this because Jason's not supposed to know where I am right now… I'm also going to help Sam pay off whatever loan he still has for his bar, set up a trust for Hadley's son, set aside a portion for myself and then the rest is going to go to non-profit aid organizations. I'll have to look into which ones, but a healthy chunk is going to Amnesty International. And there are several groups building schools and clinics in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Plus, women's groups. Maybe some microloan agencies. Doctors Without Borders. This stuff should be put to good use. It's a lot of money. And it's enough to really make a difference in some places."
Mr. C. looked appalled and glanced at Eric.
Eric just threw up his hands and said, "It's her money."
"Do you have a will? Eric says that your work now involves some risk?" asked Mr. Cataliades.
Like working for Sophie-Anne wasn't risky? I thought to myself.
"I don't but I guess I will try to pursue getting one." I looked at Eric and squinted a bit. "If anything happens to me, can Eric access the money?"
Eric turned to me looking shocked. I reached out under the table and took his hand to reassure him and waited to hear Mr. C.'s answer.
"Legally, as things stand right now, it would be difficult. It would be possible with the proper account information but there might be tax issues involved because of the lack of formal legal status."
"Then I'll send you an email with what I'd like to do for a will and for the trust for Hadley's son. If you can have something before I leave New Orleans on the 26th it would be great."
Mr. Cataliades had me sign the account signature cards and told me the accounts would just be accessed by number and not by name so whichever name I was going by wouldn't matter. The bank was Swiss. He rose to leave a short time later, shaking my hand and giving me a look that showed he clearly thought I was off my rocker.
After he was out the door, Eric turned to me and said sharply,
"What was that about, Sookie? Can I get the money if something happens to you? What was that?" He looked very upset. Offended even.
"Because I have to make sure that Hadley's son gets some of that money, Eric. Mr. C. is right. I..." I stopped and hesitated. Maybe admitting that my job had even a remote potential to get me killed was probably not a wise thing where Eric was concerned after the discussion in the sauna room. I had to be careful in how I explained it... "I just know that if something happened to me that you'd make sure what I wanted was done, that's all. I'd trust you to make sure that Hunter got the money I wanted him to get. I'm not so sure, frankly, that I'd trust Jason to do that. He's not a bad person but sometimes he just doesn't do the right thing. I'll have to trust someone to do it so I'd rather trust you. I hope you don't mind? I'm not planning to have anything happen to me anytime soon, but just in case, I hope you'd be okay with that?"
I'd clearly caught him totally off-guard with my reply. He got an odd look on his face. Then I got the feeling he was quite touched, actually.
"Of course, Lover. Of course."
I collected all the papers and put them back into the envelope Mr. C. had left me and looked at his business card with his contact info. I'd have to think of what I wanted to put in a will, and what to do for the trust for Hunter, how much to set aside for Jason, and for myself. I'd have to think about how to contact Sam about his business loan. I didn't want it to seem like it was my apology for taking off without saying goodbye. It was more like a thank you for more than five years of working for him and being able to give something back.
After several moments of being seemingly lost in thought himself, Eric rose and said,
"I have work to do, Lover. You know your way around. I assume you are fine amusing yourself? Pam will be back in a while. Please remember to eat. You're already too thin." He bent down and kissed me, then went off toward his office.
I went off to the sitting room and called Ahmed. Ahmed contributed to a couple of organizations in Waziristan, including the Revolutionary Association of Women of Afghanistan which was operating out of Waziristan. But I knew there were other organizations that he followed. He was out for a late dinner with friends, in Adams Morgan, at an Ethiopian place we'd been to several times, Meskerem. He excused himself to his friends and walked outside on 18th Street while talking to me for a few minutes. We had a brief, humorous conversation in which he made me laugh about how truly dismal things were at work without Alla and me and said he'd call me back later to make me feel really guilty about it. I told him I'd wait for him to call me back.
I read for a while and then went downstairs to the kitchen on the ground floor and managed to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich. Tonight the kitchen was empty, but I found my way around, made my sandwich and cleaned up. I really wasn't eating much these days. Between the odd hours and the fact that there was no one to eat with, it was easy to skip meals, which wasn't a very good idea if you were supplying blood to a vampire, even an old one. I saw a stack of protein bars on the counter and pocketed two. I went back upstairs and worked on finishing Crime and Punishment. I had reframed Raskolnikov in my mind. He was me. He was… anyone and everyone, really. He was an allegory for anyone who could do bad things and claim it was for the right reason or that they were above the law because they were special. Justifying choices and claiming to be righteous. It was so easy to do wrong and say you felt bad about it later, too. He was my everyday work life in terms of so many people I met, in all the different facets of my world. I tried to reflect on whether his immense inner turmoil over his crimes was really punishment at all. Because he kept on thinking that what he had done wasn't all that bad because he was a special person. He was… delusional, at least in my mind. But maybe we are all deluded in some way about why we make the choices we do. I played it all against my own self-torment over the deaths of Tray, Clancy and Claudine. I hadn't harmed them, but I felt as guilty as if I had. It had certainly felt like punishment at times, I had to admit. It felt very ironic to be reading a book in which one ended up debating one's capacity for self-delusion, considering a lot of questions I had internally about my present situation. When Ahmed texted me around 2:15 am to see if I was awake, I had just finished the book.
I called him back and asked him if he'd read Crime and Punishment. I figured he must have, since Ahmed was pretty much the best read person I'd ever met other than maybe a few of my vampire friends like Eric and Pam, and they'd had a lot more reading time on their hands than Ahmed, who was my same age.
"Sasha, tell me you are not reading depressing shite on holiday. You have to go for humor. Vacation read, not mind fuck? Why read Dostoyevsky on holiday when you can read Wilde or Twain or something light? Rereading Austen or even Bridget Jones would suit you better for holiday. Light, happy, diverting. I hate thinking about you reading something depressing when many days are so depressing at work."
I was stretched out on the couch in the sitting room, looking at the ceiling. I closed my eyes.
"Um, it's a long story as to how I started reading it. My… friend gave it me to read. Now I'm kind of seeing a Raskolnikov in everyone. Everyone justifies their decisions and choices that way, really, at least to some extent. Everyone fears the repercussions of their bad choices. Even when we make honorable choices, they can torment us when the turn out badly, right? But is the torment he feels his worst punishment? Because he isn't really sorry that he did it. To me, he's sorry that he's going to be judged for doing it. And I don't understand the end. I still think he doesn't even understand Sonya. He doesn't see that she is so much better than he is, that she's still a good person in spite of what she had to do and that he isn't, not even when he confesses and at least says he is sorry for what he did. Not even when he realizes he loves her. Do you think he can really be redeemed? The epilogue makes it sound like he is. I just don't see it. Although I don't know, maybe he really was mentally ill. I just can't decide."
Ahmed paused for a moment on the other end.
"Tell your friend I dislike him, or her, intensely for giving you depressing books on holiday, okay? You were supposed to relax. So… Yes and no. I guess I think he is redeemed by Sonya's love, made more human by accepting the love and returning that love, but he is never really absolved of what he has done. There are some things for which you can never have absolution and I guess killing the sisters is an example. Maybe that's what you see that bothers you. That's part of the whole schism. You know 'raskolnik' means schismatic in Russian. I guess you can look at him as a symbolic representation of the dichotomy of good versus evil in all of us. And in the end, I guess you could say he's improved by Sonya but not absolved of the sins of what he's done."
"No, I didn't know about the 'raskolnik' thing. It wasn't the annotated version," I said snidely. "Hmmmm. I'll have to think on that one. Redemption versus absolution. Love redeeming you but not really absolving you. On another note," I said with a sigh, "you still give to RAWA, right?"
"Sure," he said.
"When I get back I need to talk to you about that. They seem a bit militant these days. But they have done a lot of good things. I'm looking into different non-profits to support."
"If you are casting about, you should look into Central Asia Institute, Sasha. They're very much your mindset. They build schools and clinics. I support them, too. I can't believe you're thinking of this stuff on holiday. You're really a mess, you know? So, are you having a pleasant vacation, even if you won't disengage yourself from our charming work atmosphere?"
"Yes. Yes, I am." I sighed. I held my Blackberry to my ear with my shoulder and rubbed my closed eyelids. "Quite pleasant. It's good thing I left Rosie, or you might not even get me back."
"Between you and Alla being gone, it's serious drag at work. I've got a load of shite on my desk from some wiretap of these Pakistani guys in the Bronx. Hours and hours and hours of tape of practically illiterate speakers of Urdu. It hurts my mind to listen. I have to keep my espresso machine running so I don't fall asleep and miss some heinous plot. You know, Manny is acting odd. Quite odd. He asked me yesterday if I knew where you'd gone as if I was in on some secret. I told him ClubMed. He seemed hacked off. Chuck is on some weird rampage, acting like a real wanker. But you're having fun wherever, yes? Just... don't tell me where... in case you're in trouble with them. I prefer to think of you having fun. Tell me you're having fun, Sasha, darling."
I laughed at the ClubMed comment. Yeah, I was sure Manny was 'hacked off' at that one. Chuck always complained that Ahmed was too flippant and Ahmed had never done a thing to change Chuck's viewpoint.
"MmmmHmmm. Having fun. Really. Lots actually. I promise. You know, I saw Nnenna Freelon perform live last night. She was fabulous. I wish you could have seen her, too." I paused wondering if he'd figure out that I was in New Orleans. No doubt he could, but Ahmed was the master of compartmentalization, so if he didn't want to know where I was, he wouldn't check on that. "If you go see Alla, Mercan and the baby, tell them I send my love. I'm afraid to call and wake them, even during the day." I yawned.
"Love to them. Right. Not my thing, babies. But I suppose I have to go. As long as you don't expect me to learn Farsi or Pashto, I'll do your bidding. Oh, don't yawn! Listen, I should get some sleep. It's terribly late. I really don't know what I was thinking…" I could hear him yawning now. "Cheerio, then."
"Good night, sweet prince," I said with a chuckle.
"Gag me, Sasha."
"Oh, you'll have to get someone else to do that," I said with another yawn of my own. "Sounds kinky, and I'm not even your type."
He laughed.
"Good night for real," I said.
"Ciao, Bella."
I ended the call and just lay there on the couch for several minutes, smiling with my eyes still closed. I missed Ahmed and his abundant sarcasm. I missed Alla's fiery arguments with him. I missed going to sleep at a reasonable hour. Like, by now, for instance. Finally, I decided if I didn't sit up and do something that I'd really fall asleep. I opened my eyes and started to sit up, only to find Eric staring down at me, all of about two inches away from my face. I jerked and gasped and said,
"Shit, Eric! You really scared me!" My heart just about came out of my chest. "Geez. You know I get freaked when you sneak up on me. How long were you there like that?" It had been quite a while since I'd had the preternatural stealth of a vampire freak me out.
"Sasha, darling? Good night, sweet prince? Ciao bella? Who the hell was that?"
I squeezed away from him, sat up and looked at him with a grimace, my hand still pressed to my chest and my still pounding heart. "Ahmed. You know, Ahmed? I work with him? He's an interpreter and analyst? Arabic, Urdu, Turkish, Kurdish, etc. It's an inside joke, that's all. Geez, you really scared me, Eric."
I wasn't going to get into the whole thing that Ahmed was a somewhat disgraced member of the Saudi royal family both because of what they thought of as his 'lifestyle choice' and because he'd become a US citizen, in part to get away from the social constraints of his family and their elitist lifestyle. And to top it all off, he'd been working for the FBI for the past three years. He really was a prince, but there were literally hundreds in the Saudi royal family.
"Well, you seem awfully cozy with him. And I'm just a friend, eh?"
His eyes looked quite fiery and there was a not so subtle edge to Eric's voice. It was obvious that he had been listening for quite a while and he didn't like the fact that I was clearly very fond of Ahmed, let alone my demoting his status to that of friend when talking to Ahmed.
"I don't know how to explain you to him. I have to consider it carefully, since he's from an entirely different culture, Eric. One that isn't exactly well known for tolerance of vampires. I'll tell him about you. Ahmed is pretty much my closest friend in Virginia. But what am I supposed to come up with on the spur of the moment to explain us? I can barely explain 'us' to me. But I am cozy with him. Ahmed's managed the incredible feat of never making me feel like a stupid American freak in spite of the fact that he's so much smarter and better educated than I am and in spite of the fact that you could say he comes from a culture not exactly renowned for holding independent women in high regard. I enjoy his company. Just like I enjoy Alla's company. Ahmed and I just spend more time together than Alla and I do because he's single. We go sailing, with Alla and her husband, remember? It's Ahmed's boat. Very cozy. But certainly no threat to you. Besides, remember that we have that no office romance policy at the Bureau? You'd never have a reason to ever worry about anyone I work with."
Eric put his arms on either side of me and leaned toward me and softly began to nuzzle my neck. He spoke as if he was completely disinterested in my explanation.
"I'm almost done for the night. And I'm… hungry for you," he said with a voice that seemed to pull at me almost physically. I felt as if something was pulling softly on my mind. Mine, I felt echoing inside me. What the hell? I shook my head slightly. He was jealous. Really jealous. Jealous enough to somehow have slipped into a mode where he was, consciously or not, trying to control me. I could feel it. It was almost as if... I could hear it. You're mine. I pressed my hand to my temple. This was more than a little freaky I thought to myself. It was really like I was hearing him. I pushed it all away. I didn't want to hear Eric. It was one of the things I liked. Not hearing Eric. And he was jealous of Ahmed? Clearly, Bill hadn't told him some rather pertinent information. But that wasn't even the point. I had been on my own for three years and not even looked at another man. Jealous of Ahmed? Jealous of anyone was incredible to me.
I leaned forward slightly into him while he was still at my neck and put my hands on his broad shoulders and said in a sultry voice near his ear,
"Eric, cut the glamour crap. I hate it when you do that. And it's totally pointless because it just pisses me off. So," I kissed his neck, and nibbled on his earlobe, "stop it already."
He made a soft sound and then pushed me against the back of the couch and kissed me hard, while kneeling over me on the couch.
Cadel and someone else started to enter the room and pulled back after seeing us,
"Sorry!"
I jumped because I was startled yet again and one of Eric's fangs cut my lip, by accident. I hissed softly as I tasted the blood in my mouth and winced with the discomfort of the cut.
Pam peered around the door and shook her head but backed away and quietly closed the door to the room.
Eric pulled my hand away from my lip and looked at it with a sigh. He sat down on the couch next to me and punctured his fingertip and put a drop of blood on my lip, which felt like it sealed up almost immediately. He sat silently, not moving, with his finger still touching my lip, looking at me. I took his hand.
"Eric," I said softly, "I'm not interested in anyone else. I am not going to sleep with anyone else. I think it's amazing if you'd even think otherwise considering what you already know about my life for the past three years. But I give you my word. You have no reason to feel jealous of anyone, okay?"
He looked me in the eyes and was silent, as if absorbing my words. The words made him... satisfied.
"Neither do you. I give you my word," he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine with intensity.
After another few minutes of silence, where he almost seemed as if he was on the brink of saying something else, he rose and said,
"I should speak with Cadel. It won't take long." He leaned down and kissed my forehead.
I looked up at him and it was if he had transformed himself back into that serious vampire king in a flash. I shivered slightly. Eric's ability to go from vulnerable to seemingly invulnerable took my breath away.
"I'm going to go let Pam tease me for a while," I said with a smile. I rose, pocketed my phone and picked up the book and my papers to go off to Pam's office.
She was pleased to have the opportunity to tease me, and tease she did. 'Rent a room, oh wait a minute, you two already have one.' and all the usual fare. Later she told me she had made plans for us to go to a shooting range on Thursday evening. She hoped that Eric would 'release me' by 8:30 pm so that we could get to the range before 9 pm, since they closed at 10:30 pm, she said. I asked if I was his captive and she replied that it was probably an accurate way of looking at my reality, but not to tell Eric she said so. When Eric joined us, she struck up a wonderful conversation about how well my sea green top complimented my auburn hair and that now, of course, I really couldn't wear reds at all.