A/N: Thank you for the love last chapter. Of course now you've spoiled me with your reviews, and are obligated to keep it up. ;) I really do appreciate those who take the time to let me know you like the story though. The Sookie Stackhouse universe is owned by Ms. Charlaine "I sure do like to kill people!" Harris, who is just lovely. This story is being beta'd by peachy keen and remarkable FiniteAnarchy.

Chapter 5 - Ruffled Vampires

I said hello to Dan Shelley, the guard on the door today as I arrived at Splendide. I liked Dan a lot. He was particularly conscientious. I'd managed to make it in before Brenda, but Holly was back in the lounge fixing the coffee. I pulled my box of breakfast bars down out of the cabinet. Normally I eat at home, but I just didn't feel like cooking today.

"Good morning," I tried to sound cheerful.

"Hey Sookie," she smiled at me. Holly seemed like a genuinely nice person. I was always glad to chat with her. "You're in early," she observed.

"I've got a lot to do today. Those guys we met with yesterday brought some good stuff."

"Rare?" she asked, with polite interest. Holly is mainly just the receptionist, though she's also a bit of the office mom. She waters the plants and does the coffee in the mornings, and makes sure the bathroom is in order. I think Brenda has started delegating the supply ordering to her as well. Holly doesn't have a particular interest in history or anthropology, though she's learned about the antiques business a little bit. She didn't go to college. She had a little boy, instead, which I'm sure was an education unto itself. She liked working here. The hours were set and steady, and she liked to dress professionally. She always looked pretty at work.

"Very," I agreed. "Actually, that Kenneth guy might be back today, they forgot to pack up one piece of the set."

"Ooo, the blue-eyed guy? I wouldn't mind seeing him again," she said with a mischievous smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"He sure was handsome," I agreed, grinning. I didn't bother mentioning that he'd hinted at interest in Gladiola, who wasn't known around here as Mr. Cataliades was. Gladiola and Diantha can only pass for human at a glance, and neither made much of an effort to blend in. It might have been some kind of reverse camouflage in the case of Diantha. She could easily be mistaken for a punk rocker for all the crazy outfits she wore, and so dismissed as just another weirdo human. Neither sister had ever visited me at Splendide as their uncle sometimes did.

"Did you have to go see the vamps last night?"

"Huh?" I asked. Her question startled me. No part of what I'd gotten up to the night before was water cooler chat.

"That guy who came in yesterday? Mr. Burnham? You said he worked for a vampire?"

"Oh, yeah," I said. "He had something at his warehouse he wanted me to look at. Turned out to be pretty worthless though."

"Too bad," she said. "I bet a lot of them have picked up all kinds of stuff over the years."

I nodded. "Definitely."

"You okay Sookie? No offense really, but you look a little ragged."

On cue, I yawned again. "I'm just feeling worn out. I can't wait for this weekend, I'm going to sleep and do nothing for two days." I sincerely hoped that was true.

"All done with your Christmas shopping?" she asked.

"Mostly. I have a couple more things to pick up I guess, but my list isn't very long." I had my Gran, my brother Jason, Niall, and Mr. Cataliades, and a few small things for the people here at work. Niall and Mr. C wouldn't really care if I got them presents, not being celebrants of the human holiday themselves. It made me happy to give gifts to my loved ones though, and this was my only chance. They didn't exactly have birthdays. I don't think either really measured the passage of time in solar days.

"Good morning ladies," said Donald Callaway as he entered.

"Morning Don, looking sharp today!" beamed Holly, and Donald popped is thumbs under his lapels and did a quick turnaround, showing off his brown tweed suit.

I smiled pleasantly and excused myself. Donald's an okay guy. He certainly knows his antiques. He's always struck me as a little bit mercenary though. I know it's the job of brokers to try to maximize profits and their commissions, but I don't like aggressive businessmen in any context. I knew from reading his mind that he tended to undervalue things when dealing with people who weren't sure what they had, and that in general he drove a hard bargain. He's probably good for Splendide, but something about him just doesn't sit well with me. I don't have to be great friends with everyone I work with.

I went downstairs and fired up my equipment first thing, because it takes a little while to calibrate. Then I went back to the vault to retrieve my day's work. The vault setup is pretty high tech, 'Mission Impossible' kind of stuff. There's a retinal scan and a ten character access code. It can only be opened between certain hours of the day, and there are cameras inside and out. This might sound a little over the top, but the insurance for a business like this practically requires these measures. The things we store in here can be worth anywhere from a few thousand to a million dollars, or even more sometimes. This vampire adjudicator's set will be in the "even more" category. Some people would say that kind of thing was "priceless," but I knew for a certainty that there was no such thing in this world.

Reentering my authorization a second time to leave the vault, I thought again about the conversation I'd had with Brenda about our security guards. Despite the jokes about Greg, I knew that most of our guys weren't pushovers. A lot of them had served on active duty in the military, and even though they'd retired to this cushy civilian gig, that training hadn't evaporated. The problem was that if it came down to an altercation between any human and a supe, the human was always the long shot, by leagues.

The various supernatural creatures don't mix with each other. That's a huge generalization of course. There are scads of exceptions on an individual basis, like the Were bodyguards who work for Eric the vampire, just to give an example. There's no annual All Supernatural Summer Barbeque where they all come together for camaraderie and potato sack races, is the point I'm getting at. They don't socialize. There's not a lot of neutral turf. Splendide is one of the few places that would qualify. We provide the supernatural community with valuable services; services that they couldn't provide for themselves, precisely because they don't have the contacts among all the various factions, nor the impartiality, that would make it feasible.

This is our main measure of security from supes, this "don't poo where you eat," scenario. It's my protection as well. I'm hiding in plain sight here, but I'm better off than if I'd stayed in Bon Temps. Maybe I could still be living with my Gran in the tiny town where I was raised even now, but sooner or later someone would come along and realize I was different, and try to find out why.

I settled down to my day's work. It doesn't take that long to test the actual mass-to-charge ratio (which is how we determine the age of inorganic things), but the preparation and analysis are pretty time consuming.

How'd you spend your morning Sookie? Vaporizing fae-forged silver, you?

Once I got my first sample in the cooker, I was able to make quick work of preparing the others. The brazier was particularly interesting, because there was trace ash therein. If I was lucky, I'd be able able to ballpark not only the date of creation, but the date of acquisition, well, presuming Mr. Herbahz had never used it himself.

I was hunched over my laptop, knee-deep in tiny, tiny numbers when I felt my boss approaching. Glancing down I saw it was already a bit after one in the afternoon. I realized I was very hungry.

"Time for lunch?" I asked brightly as Brenda entered.

"Sure," she agreed. "I wanted to check on progress."

I locked my computer and stood up stretching. "So far, so good," I said. "The quill is looking like twenty-two hundred years old and the gold knife is coming in right around the same age. I'm not done with the full specs that'll go to the buyer, but I can finish those up next week. I'll get you enough that you can start making calls before the weekend."

"I'm already making calls," she grinned. "Come on, you look like you could use a break. Holly said you got in right after her this morning."

"Well, my boss said she wanted me here at the crack of dawn, ruthless taskmistress that she is," I teased.

I followed her upstairs and after a little debate, we headed over to the local bar and grill. She let me chatter on about the radiometric dating and when the waiter came by to take our order I got an iced coffee instead of my usual sweet tea.

"Another late night then?" she asked, taking care to lower her voice.

"Yeah," I sighed, matching her volume. "And tonight again too."

"I told you..." she started. I put my hand up to stop her. Are you really entitled to say "I told you so," when no one ever disagreed with you? I don't think so.

"We made progress at least. I think this is the end of it."

"Good."

We talked a little more about the work on hand and some incoming pieces. One of our brokers would be returning from a trip to Biloxi late this afternoon. I let her know that I planned to be out by five since the vampire had graciously scheduled me a nap time and I fully intended on taking advantage of it. She had rolled her eyes at that but agreed I looked like I could use the sleep. Thanks Bren. She let me know she had her sister putting out feelers for some additional security after dark. I ate my hamburger and fries with so much gusto that I was left feeling a little queasy afterwards, but the walk back to Splendide helped to settle my stomach.

Someone was waiting around outside the lab when I went back downstairs and I was pleased to see it was Kenneth Glassport, bringing me a fine iron mail glove. I was absolutely delighted with it. If it dated to the rest of the set, it would be one of the earliest intact specimens of chainmail anywhere, in either the supe or the human world. The rings were so tiny, it must have taken ages to make. It was small, and though I dared not try it on, it seemed like it might even fit me.

It's something of a common misunderstanding that humans have greatly increased in size in the last few hundred years. They have, but only after first shrinking down a lot. Vast migration into disease-ridden cities and the shift from heartier lifestyles into ones of mere subsistence, with more limited availability of dietary proteins accounted for the growth stunt. Modern prosperity has now corrected that, and we're more or less back on track. Ignoring the fluctuations in the middle, average human height in the last thousand years has only increased by about an inch. A great Goliath like the vampire Sheriff might still have been considered large for his time, but no more so than if he'd been born in the modern era. Ugh. Why am I even thinking about him?

I carefully laid the glove in its temporary bin. Perhaps this set had belonged to a woman. I just couldn't picture a vampire like the primly posed Alice I'd encountered last night wielding these instruments of justice. Maybe that other one I'd seen through Dirk's eyes at the bar though. I needed to rein it in. Too great an interest in vampires is hazardous to anyone's health.

"I can't believe Mr. Herbahz is parting with all this," I said to Kenneth, once I'd finished gushing and exclaiming over the glove.

"He believes that such items should be enjoyed until they are not, and then passed along for the enjoyment of others," Kenneth said.

"That's a lovely outlook," I smiled. "I'll share privately that in this line of work, we see a heck of a lot of selfishness and covetousness."

"Oh, I have no doubt," he chuckled.

"Do you know if he's ever had the objects appraised before? Or when he acquired them?"

"No, to the acquisition. I can try to find out about the past appraisals, but I tend to doubt it. We will be traveling north for a few days, but I can visit next week, if I discover anything?"

"That would be lovely. I'd be done my work by then, and would love to compare the notes."

He said goodbye after that and refused my offer to walk him out, but I followed his mind up the stairs anyway. I buzzed up to Brenda on the intercom to let her know we'd gotten the glove and boy oh boy was it something. I plowed through the rest of my day without a single interruption, and finished with a fat stack of data to analyze tomorrow. Just before five I headed back to the storage vault and the door was just swinging shut when I heard someone call out, "Sookie? Hold the vault!"

It was too late for me to catch the door though. I cringed, just like you do when someone calls for you to hold an elevator and you're not quick enough to hit the button that makes the doors stay open. I set my things back on their proper shelf and made to leave just as I heard the mechanical locks release again. Wilson Bellows, the broker returning from Mississippi, came in, struggling with a large crate.

"It's lead-ware, not silverware, I'll swear it," he chuckled, hefting his load into the room with effort.

"Did you have good luck in Biloxi?" I asked. Wilson's one of our regional people, meaning he's based here in Shreveport, but he does a lot of traveling around the southeast to meet with those clients who can't conveniently come here.

"I think the truck's about half an hour behind me," he said. "Huge estate." He was giddy and glad about the results from his trip.

"Brenda will be thrilled," I said.

"What've you been up to?"

"Ah you know, same old. Stone tools and pottery. I got a piece of nice old chainmail today," I grinned.

"Really? Medieval?" Wilson specializes in antiques from the last three centuries, but he's a huge history buff. Everyone's got a deep dark secret, right? I happen to be privy to many people's whether I want to be or not. Wilson's is that he goes to Renaissance Faires. In full costume. Since that's the worst he's got, I find I like him quite a bit.

I shook my head. "A bit earlier. I don't think it's armor, but for handling dangerous tools."

"Wow!" he said, sounding duly impressed. "Show me tomorrow? I'll be down here cataloging."

I agreed that I would. The idea of revealing some while concealing most is not only effective for hiding part-fairy telepaths. It would raise eyebrows among our uninitiated coworkers if either Brenda or I were too secretive about some of the objects that come in and out of here. Instead, we share what we can. An early example of a chainmail glove is perfectly okay to talk about. Paired with the silver knife and the word vampire, not so much.

I said goodnight to Wilson, locked up the lab, and headed for home.

My house phone rang just as I got in the door and I made a quick dash into the kitchen to grab it.

"Hello?"

"Sookie, it's your Gran."

"Hey Gran, I was just..."

"Now, I'm not going to scold you for not calling me last night..." Shoot. Oh, she was. She so was. "But if you say you're going to call a person, that person stays up late and worries when you don't call."

"I'm so sorry Gran. Something came up here, and I completely forgot."

"Something with work?" she asked curiously.

"No, Gran. With the other thing."

For many reasons, my grandmother and I do not discuss either my ability or the supernatural world. She knows, of course. Well, maybe not about the two-natured, though I doubt she'll be shocked when they finally do come out. She knows about me; after all, she raised me. She knows about the fairies, because she cheated on her husband with one to conceive my father and my aunt. Sore subject? You betcha. She knows about demons, sort of, because she knew Mr. Cataliades from the time when Jason and I were born. And she knew all this for eighteen years while I was growing up, and never said a word. I love my grandmother more than I have ever loved another person in my life, but... no. No but's there. I'm not going to qualify that. She's human, and we just don't talk about it. Everything is complicated, and a lot of it is painful.

"Hmmm," she murmured.

"I'm sorry, Gran. I didn't mean to make you worry."

"You're alright?"

"I'm alright," I assured her, pushing all my sincerity into those two words.

"You still coming around for supper on Sunday?"

I laughed, "Do I ever miss your country fried steak?" Not if I can help it!

"Well I know you're real busy up there," she started to say.

"Oh Gran," I smiled. "Of course I'm coming to visit on Sunday. Now, do you want to tell me the news, or do you want to save it up?" I asked, inviting her to clue me in to all the Bon Temps gossip.

We talked for about twenty minutes while I carried the cordless phone around, putting some dry dishes from the rack away, getting a load of laundry going, and going out to get the mail from the cute little box at the end of my walkway. It's white with ladybugs painted on it, on a white post. The post had been in place when I moved in, but I had to buy my own mailbox. I sat down on the wicker bench which was the only piece of furniture that my small porch could accommodate. Granny told me about the latest young vixen in town to turn up pregnant, and I agreed with her wholeheartedly when she said what a relief it was that the girl wasn't one of Jason's. It was a little chilly outside, but I didn't mind. Sometimes I just needed some fresh air.

The sun was setting fast and I watched a few lights flicker on in some houses down the street. I gave a little wave to my around-the-corner neighbor as he walked by with his little dog. I didn't know his name, but I saw him walking all the time. There was a man sitting in his car a few houses up. I reached out for his mind, and it was a struggle to keep up the appropriate stream of "Really? Oh no! Did she? My goodness!" that constituted my part of the conversation with my grandmother.

He wasn't a regular human. I was pretty sure he was a were of some kind, since his brain had that sort of snarly feel to it. Even from this distance I should be getting something if he were regular. I was extra unnerved when I realized what he was, since I don't have any supe neighbors. As I stared at him, I was almost certain that he was staring right back at me. I promised Gran once again that I'd be seeing her on Sunday and then hung up, setting the phone down beside me.

I had a bit of protection, here on the porch. My property is warded against those who would do me harm, so it's not like he could run up here and attack me. He could probably shoot me, but supes rarely carry guns. They just don't need them. That's not to say never though. After a few more minutes of my staring contest with the stranger, I remembered why I'd hurried home as my eyes started stinging and a huge yawn overtook me. I stood up off the bench and just like two nights ago, I was struck with a wave of intense dizziness. I staggered, but there was no vampire around to catch me. My vision started to fade out and I had a split second to panic about that before the darkness overtook me.

I woke up staring into the anxious face of a man I didn't know. A Were I didn't know, I registered a moment after. I scrambled to push myself back but my hands and arms weren't working as I wanted them to.

"Whoa there. Calm down."

"Who are you?" I rasped, my eyes darting around. I swung my head from side to side and that was a terrible idea. Oh, hands were working again. Elbows bending. I held my head steady.

"Dawson. Tray Dawson." Why do I know that name?

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm supposed to be watching you until nine."

"Watching for whom?"

"Eric Northman. He's on his way."

"What? Why?" I demanded.

"You fainted, and I wasn't sure how quickly you'd wake up." I'd meant, "Why is Eric Northman having me watched?" I hadn't even registered the second part of his statement, and it took me a few seconds to work it out.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, you sure look it," he chuckled.

I struggled to lift myself up from...my porch. I was still on my porch. It was definitely dark out now.

"Why are you watching me?"

"Can't say I asked," he shrugged. I managed to get myself sitting and leaned against my front door. He stayed in his same crouch at the edge of my steps, neither advancing nor retreating. "But I reckon it's to do with whatever went down last night," he surmised.

"Dawson," I said, the name finally clicking as the one I'd heard the vampire address on the phone. "You work for Eric."

"Sometimes. Technically I work for Caddo Security."

"You're the one who got Pam," I said, waiting for him to confirm it.

"Yes ma'am. You're the one who was passed out in the vamp's car." He didn't know who I was or what I was or what I was doing there last night, and he didn't particularly care.

I relaxed a little bit as I let myself acknowledge that this guy was, to some extent or another, a trusted associate of the Sheriff's. That wasn't a huge comfort in the scheme of things, but it was many degrees improvement on "unknown Were stalker." I started to gather my feet under me and took a firm grip on the door frame, ready to try to push myself up. He tried to suggest that I stay down for a minute, but I got insistent about going inside.

Tray Dawson pulled up easily to his feet and the hulking man leaned down and hooked an arm under my bent knees and another behind my back. Before I could protest that this was unnecessary, he'd picked me up as though I weighed no more than a bundle of feathers. That's saying a lot, because I'm not exactly a Skinny Minnie. He managed the door, somehow, and kicked it closed behind him as he carried me in to my house and over to my couch. Once he'd set me down he backed over to the entryway, and I pulled my old afghan down and scrunched it under my head for a pillow.

"You don't have to stay. I'm sure I was just hungry or something," I told him. Actually, I wasn't sure about that at all. I realized that I've been feeling lousy for the past couple of days beyond some missed sleep, though I knew that certainly hadn't helped.

"I'm to wait here with you. And you ate only four hours ago or so, I doubt it's just that." He folded his arms, looking stern. I could definitely see why he was a security guy. He got the forbidding stance exactly right.

"You've been watching me all day?"

"Since dawn."

I gaped at him. "Aren't you tired?"

He shrugged. I couldn't tell if that was a Were thing or just male machismo or what. There was a perfunctory knock at the door before Eric entered my home and I gave an exasperated sigh as I remembered far too late that I hadn't ever rescinded his invitation once he'd dropped me off last night. He gave me a hard look as though to indicate that he was not at all impressed by my frail humanity.

"What happened?" Eric asked Tray.

Tray Dawson gave a basic and thorough summary of the last hour or so, in which the only things I learned were that he'd followed me home from work, and that I'd been unconscious for about twenty minutes. The Sheriff dismissed the Were when he was through with his telling, and treated him to a steely glare as Tray told me, "Goodnight ma'am, feel better," as he left, closing my front door behind him.

"Is this," Eric was standing in front of me now, gesturing to my prone form in general, "typical of your condition?"

"No," I answered flatly.

"Are you being adversely affected by the magic from yesterday?"

"I have no idea what's wrong with me, but this," I returned the sweeping gesture at myself, "isn't normal. I've never been sick a day in my life." That was true. There was some more hard staring from him. I couldn't even believe that he had the nerve to be annoyed with me for feeling under the weather, so I glared right back at him.

"Why were you having me followed?"

"For your safety. Until the rest of the witches are discovered."

"Until your child is back to normal," I corrected.

"Yes."

I pulled myself to my feet then, holding the edge of the couch so I could be sure I was steady on my legs before I tried to walk. I was.

"You promised I could have until nine, right?" He gave me a nod, and I was glad he didn't argue the word "promised."

"Well I'm going to tend to my human needs until then as planned."

He didn't make to leave. Instead, he took out his phone and started typing into it. I waited him out, and eventually he glanced up at me again with a questioning look.

"You can come back later," I said, abandoning the subtle hints.

"I have just sent the guard away. I have business I can do from here. I will stay."

"You expect me to be able to sleep with a vampire in my living room?"

"You had no problem doing so last night for almost forty minutes," he reminded me.

I narrowed my eyes. He answered an incoming message. I scowled.

"Please respect my privacy," I said with resignation as I moved down the hall and into my bedroom.

I closed my door and turned the little lock in the handle, which was absolutely pointless since even a newborn vamp could push the door clear off its hinges if he had any mind to, and this guy was probably a thousand times as strong. I went in my bathroom and flipped the faucet on, full bore. Leaning over the sink I called my great grandfather. He wasn't there of course.

"Hello?" a man, or more likely the fairy, answered immediately.

I hoped the running water would obscure what I said from vampire hearing, but I still spoke softly, and guardedly. "Hello. I need to leave a message. Please tell him that Sookie called, and while it's not an emergency, it would be really good if he could get in touch with me soon. I may be out tonight, but I'll be home by dawn at the latest."

"I'll give him the message," the dulcet voice murmured back at me.

"I would appreciate that, good night," I said, and hung up.

As soon as I hung up I felt foolish, wondering if I'd overreacted. A few dizzy spells and some weariness and a bruised finger didn't add up to a lot for a normal human. It was probably just an infection, but I'd never had one of those before, and I didn't know how to treat it. I guessed the worst case scenario, at least from the perspective of calling him away from Faery needlessly, was that he'd say nothing was unusual, and I'd feel sheepish, but still have had a visit from Niall. I love his visits. The actual worst case scenario was probably a whole lot more worse, involving me dying painfully as a result of some unrealized exposure to something dastardly. It didn't do any good to let myself dwell on that thought.

I switched off the water and walked back to the bed, pushing off my shoes but otherwise just falling into it. I strained to hear Eric moving around, but there was just the looming void of his mind standing still out in the entryway. At least it wasn't full of distracting thoughts. It was actually almost peaceful. Oh Lord. Save me from false senses of security. I had just enough clear thought to be annoyed that he'd been right; I fell asleep quite easily.

I woke up suddenly at five minutes to nine without the aid of an alarm. I pushed my mind throughout my house and found the vampire in my kitchen. Sorry buddy, I don't keep any bottles of Life Force in my fridge. Some of the names they come up with for the synthetic blood were hilarious. I'd read an article last week saying that PepsiCo would be launching its own blood drink, Hema: Code Red, this summer. I'm sure it would be extreme. Spare me.

I washed up and changed my clothes and realized that I was feeling considerably better for the rest. I went out to the kitchen to get myself something to eat. The vampire acknowledged me as I entered but otherwise didn't say a word while I ate. Once I'd finished and cleared my plate to the sink I stood at the counter and asked what he needed me for tonight.

"We will need the witch to restore Pam, firstly. He has refused to be compelled so far."

"Meaning attempts to glamour him into doing so have failed," I answered, and Eric nodded.

"I am inclined to believe that he is unable to do so by himself," Eric observed, and it was my turn to nod. "I am also very interested to know what his goal was and by what means he put her in this state, but this can come later, if necessary."

"Sure," I agreed dully. "And then after this, we're done, right?"

"Pardon?"

"After I help you tonight, I'm not going to have to help you again, right?"

"I don't think I can promise that. You've proven to be very useful."

I was outraged, and I'm sure it showed on my face for a moment before I smoothed my countenance.

"I've done everything you've asked," I said.

"And I've done everything I promised. Your secret remains safe. You remain safe. Care has been taken that you are not overtaxed in your efforts. You remain in my protection."

"At your whim."

"I am not a whimsical vampire, Sookie."

"But a vampire," I said softly, though no doubt he heard me perfectly.

He was a big one for the penetrative stares and I got another one before he stood and crossed to me. "Come. We will leave now," he directed, and he took my hand and pulled me toward the door. His grip on me was firm but not forceful, as if to emphasize that while I was being forced, I was not being mistreated. I was relieved to see that his car was in my driveway. He guided me in to the passenger seat and we set off. I didn't bother asking where we were headed, but I was pretty sure it was to Pam's house, somewhere he could be seen freely coming and going. When we arrived he handled me out of the car as well, still alert to my reluctance to be here. I shrugged him off of me, capitulating as I followed him inside.

I felt the live and vibrant brain of Jack Mason buzzing away upstairs, but once again there were no others around. The vampire told me to wait in the great room as he went to retrieve the witchy captive and I had a moment or two to glance around at Pam's elegant furnishings. I figured they were hers, anyway. I knew two other vampires were said to live here, but everything in home seemed to have a woman's touch. There was tasteful artwork on the walls, in particular a painting of the three Graces, handmaidens of the goddess Aphrodite.

Eric returned, carrying the terrorized witch who was bound, gagged, and blindfolded, but otherwise ostensibly uninjured. I turned around as he was set back on the couch.

"I would suggest not removing the tape that binds his mouth, as he's likely to try casting spells," Eric commented. "Maybe more than he already has, if he is the cause of your illness."

"You think the shed was booby-trapped?" I asked, making the connection.

"I did not see the shed, so I cannot say for sure." He sounded careful. "And evidently you are more adept than I at detecting such magics, as I did not sense it on the property when we exited the car, as you did."

"Possibly you just didn't recognize it," I excused, though believing full well that he hadn't sensed it. If he had, and he'd still charged in like that... well, people with that kind of recklessness don't live a thousand years.

"Possibly," he agreed. "Begin with what is done to Pam and what is required to undo it," he said, gesturing to the mute and still figure that internally was anything but.

Fear was rolling off Jack Mason in waves, and that was to be expected. Right beneath it there were equal parts confusion, frustration, and... disappointment? The same as with the drainers, there was no guilt at all. In sharp contrast to them however, there was also no anger, no rage. That was pretty remarkable, considering his current situation.

"He doesn't hate you," I told Eric, with genuine surprise.

Eric looked nonplussed.

I turned back to Jack and sat down next to him on the couch, my hand clutching his shoulder. I had the familiar jolt of clarity when the connection was made, like a wavering screen tuned abruptly into sharp focus.

"Jack, what do you think of vampires?" I asked.

It was just like his sister Diane. He pitied vampires their terrible affliction. Through his eyes, they were woeful, sickly creatures. He weighed their strength and their longevity, and thought it was no fair trade off for daytime and life. I pulled his blindfold off and let him blink and adjust himself to the low light of the room. Then, he focused on Eric, and to Jack the ancient vampire with his golden mane looked sallow and pale, crowned in ashen straw. I found myself glancing back at the towering creature just to be certain that my own eyes hadn't tricked me. Eric certainly did not strike a piteous figure. He was handsome and powerful. He radiated might and potency, but Jack saw only a man who had been murdered in his prime, and a man who had been compelled to life a half life-full of sorrow and death. A man who he could help, if he would only let him.

"Jesus Christ," I whispered.

"What?" demanded Eric. I hadn't bothered to control my face and felt how wide my eyes were as I stared in wonder at the witch.

"He was trying to... unmake her," I said, with awe.

"Why go to this trouble?" he asked dubiously. "Why not just use a stake, or the sun?"

"No, Eric," I interrupted. "He thought he, they, his coven...they were trying to turn her human again."

I pulled away from Jack for a moment, who was still gazing with Eric with pleading eyes, as if trying to communicate something to the vampire. The truth of my words, perhaps. His good, if horrendously warped and misguided intentions maybe. Eric took three gigantic strides forward and backhanded Jack so hard across the face that if I hadn't been able to reach for his mind, I would have been certain I'd heard his neck snap, rather than his jaw.

I sprang from the couch, not caring about hiding my own fear and I scrambled across the room, well out of the way. There was absolute menace radiating from the vampire whose fangs had run out and he stood seething above the bound man, who I felt certain was about to die.

"Pam," I breathed, and gulped as his eyes snapped to me. "Pam," I said more surely. "You need him for Pam."

My phone started to ring, and I ignored it while we stayed locked on each other. I was too afraid to look away.

Finally he nodded and he grabbed Jack Mason by his broken jaw and wrenched his head upward. I heard the man's moaning cries of pain, stifled by the tape across his face. Abruptly he went silent as Eric dragged him under his hypnosis and I backed out of the room and down the hall towards the kitchen. I fumbled with one of the bottles of blood in Pam's refrigerator, scanning it quickly for the heating instructions and then I put it into the microwave. He appeared at the entry before the timer was up and he held me in his predator's gaze. When the timer sounded I followed the instruction to "shake well before serving," and leaned forward to put it near him on the counter, nudging it toward him with the tips of my fingers before retreating again. I had no weapons. He was in lurid anger, and I'd just reminded him that he couldn't kill the other human in the house.

"Please drink that," I said. It was an effort to keep my voice even, but I managed it. For long moments he looked at me and then the bottle, before he finally took it, and drank it down in one.

When he lowered it back to the counter, the terrifying glint had faded from his eyes, but I felt little relieved. I was trembling, and he stepped closer.

"Stay back now," I don't know where I'd found the steel for my voice, but it was in there. Not that he listened. I had the impulse to move away, to put the kitchen island between us, but I resisted that urge, clenching my fists to do it. That would be cat and mouse, and I was so far from being the cat in this scenario I should have been nibbling a tiny wedge of cheese.

I held up a hand to halt him and it met the contours of his chest as he pressed in closer to me. He dipped his head beside mine and I heard him inhale.

"You smell so good, Sookie." His voice was low and dark in my ear.

"Sheriff Northman," I said sternly. The title resonated with him. He snapped his head up, eyes locked on mine again. "You're not allowed to hurt me," I reminded him, praying to God that this was actually true.

"It wouldn't have to hurt."

"No."

He finally straightened up after a long minute. Maybe the longest minute of my life.

"Go and answer your phone, Sookie," he told me, stepping back to let me pass him. I breathed out and nodded, inching past him, moving much quicker when I got back to the hall.

It had stopped ringing by the time I reached it. I checked and saw that I had five missed calls from Brenda Hesterman. Before I could dial her back, it was ringing again.

"Brenda? What's wrong?" I asked.

"You need to come down to Splendide, Sookie."

"Why? What happened?"

"There's been a break-in."

A/N: The three Graces, also called the Charites, were Aglaea (splendor), Euphrosyne (mirth), and Thalia (good cheer). Pam's got quite the ironic sense of humor, and so does Charlaine Harris.