A/N: The Sookie Stackhouse universe is owned by Charlaine Harris. FiniteAnarchy is beta'ing this story. She's just amazing.

I like these new pics we can add to stories now!

This chapter title is truncated for length in the heading. I love this expression. I read it in Foghorn Leghorn's voice.

Chapter 6 - As Shy of Brains as a Terrapin is of Vampires

"What do you mean there's been a break-in? Upstairs?" I demanded. I could hear a swarm of chattering in the background from where ever she was calling.

"Downstairs."

"The vault?" I asked incredulously.

"It seems so, Sookie. You need to come down here. All employees need to speak to the police."

"What was taken?"

"We're not sure yet, I've given them the inventory lists, but they don't even know what they're looking at or for. I'm going to need you for that once they permit us to go inside."

"Alright Brenda, I'll be there as soon as I can."

I hung up with her and turned around to Eric standing right behind me. I flinched away with a shriek and my phone went clattering to the ground.

"Jesus Christ!" I cried out. "Do you have to sneak up on people? Have you got a hold on yourself now? I have to go."

"You must finish with the witch," he told me. He bent down and picked up my phone and handed it to me.

"No."

Clearly this is not a word he hears very often.

"Look, just take me home. Or take me to Splendide. I'll get a ride back with someone else. I'll come back after I talk to the police." When he said nothing I said, "Fine, I'll just call for a taxi."

I flipped open my phone and began scrolling. How convenient that the number was still listed in my recently made calls. I was going to have to send this vamp a bill for all this car service. He plucked the phone out of my hands again and I wheeled on him with an exasperated huff.

"Give me my phone back."

"This is the more important matter," he said, gesturing to the living room, where Jack Mason still sat in his stupor.

"To you. To me, this," and here I stomped over to the unresponsive man and waved my hands in a sweeping gesture in front of him to emphasize that fact, "will keep for a couple of hours while I go tend to my own emergency. Although you need to do something about the man's jaw." I finished quickly.

"The man's jaw?" Eric stared at me in disbelief.

"Yes, you giant a-hole. How exactly is he going to un-spell Pam now if he can't speak? You didn't even let me explain before you hit him right before you tried to eat me. Now again, give me my phone!"

Playing with fire? Yes, I surely was. But being nice and compliant had equally almost gotten me killed a few minutes ago, so what, exactly, did I have to lose here?

He didn't hand me my phone, but after a moment he did move over to the couch and adjust Jack's jaw. I winced as I imagined his bones being shifted back into place. The glamour had probably been done to stop his thrashing and muffled screaming but at this point it was the greatest mercy. After roughly pressing his fingers over Jack's face to ensure the bones were in their right positions, the vampire took the length of cloth that had previously been used to blindfold Jack and tied it under his chin and around and around his head, in the old-fashioned style of treating such an injury, before the advents of jaw wiring or proper medical braces.

He stalked over to me with an expression that read, "Happy now?" and he grabbed for my wrist and started to pull me toward the door.

"Two hours," he said.

I pulled my hand free of his grip, which surprised both of us. He reached for it again but I stepped back. I turned and went to the kitchen and heated up another bottle of blood. If I was getting into another enclosed space with him, he was going to be well fed first. As it turned in the microwave he came in to the kitchen to inform me that we were on my two hours. He took his time about drinking it once I'd handed it over. I watched in silence.

As we drove to Splendide I tried to explain to him about Jack and Diane's warped view of vampires, how they saw them as creatures in sorrowful agony. He scoffed openly but I told him it was his own fault, well, the vampires' own fault.

"You told the world a lie. You have no right to be mad if some people believed it," I shrugged.

"This thing he would do to her, make her human again. It can really be done? I have never heard of this."

"He seemed to think there was a chance."

He stewed again in stony silence after that. When we arrived at Splendide he pulled in to park, rather than just dropping me off. I sighed. There were officers waiting at the entrance to the parking lot, one on either side. I lowered my window to speak to the one nearest to me.

"Hi, I'm Sookie Stackhouse. My boss Brenda Hesterman called me down. I work here."

Eric had also lowered his window, in response to the opposite officer's tapping on it.

"And you are?" the other officer spoke to Eric.

"Eric Northman."

"And are you also an employee here?"

"I am escorting Miss Stackhouse this evening," he said.

The officers exchanged looks and one nodded to the other and they waved us past. They hadn't registered the fact that Eric is a vampire, but as soon as we drove past and they caught the BLDSKR vanity plate on the back of the Corvette, they'd know. Sure enough when we passed the officers again, heading back toward the front of the building on foot, they were both viewing me in an entirely different and speculative air. I shuddered.

"You shouldn't be here," I frowned. Not that he'd exactly given me the option of leaving him behind. "Now those cops think I'm some kind of suspicious fangbanger."

"Why should they think that?" he asked curiously. I treated him to a withering look.

"Spend a lot of your evenings just palling around with your human friends, do you?" I asked.

"No, but they are not to know that."

"Eric, everyone knows that. The only reason humans hang around with vampires is for kinky sex," I said, rolling my eyes.

Brenda was standing in front of the building talking on her cell phone. There were a slew of people here, coming or going or just standing around. I saw Donald and Wilson and one of the other brokers each chatting with police detectives. A couple of our security guys were standing together. I saw Dan standing off to the side talking to another officer. It'd be a great night to pull off a horrible crime elsewhere. The entire Shreveport P.D. seemed to be here at Splendide.

I made my way over to Brenda. She scowled at me as she recognized the presence of Eric. She had ended her call by the time I reached her.

"Sookie, thank you for coming."

"I only have a couple of hours," I told her, flicking my eyes quickly to the vampire so she'd take my meaning.

"I see," she said stiffly.

An officer strode over to us then and introduced himself to me as Detective Coughlin. He greeted Eric with some recognition, and Eric stuck to his 'escorting Miss Stackhouse' line when asked what he was doing here. The Detective seemed indifferent to it, for which I was grateful.

"You're employed here as a specialist in antiquities, Miss Stackhouse?" Detective Coughlin referred to his little notepad and then looked up at me for confirmation.

"Yes sir."

"And that's your lab downstairs, across from the vault?"

"Yes sir. Was there any indication that they'd gotten into the lab?"

"Our team is still investigating the building," he non-answered. "You left work at five this evening?"

"A few minutes after, I think. I got held up talking to one of our other brokers, Wilson Bellows. He'd just got back from a trip to Mississippi."

"Yes," the Detective agreed. He's obviously already spoken to Mr. Bellows. "And after that, what did you do this evening?"

"After that I went home, I spoke to my grandmother on the telephone, I...took a nap, and then I ate some dinner, and then around nine o'clock I went out. Then Brenda called, and we came right over," I recounted, omitting wildly.

"Ms. Hesterman said she had to call you several times before getting a hold of you."

"My phone was in the other room, I'm sorry about that," I said, looking to Brenda apologetically.

"And where were you?" the Detective asked.

"At Eric's friend Pam's house."

"So you were alone at home between say, five-thirty and nine?"

"Well no, Eric came by at dusk and just hung out in my kitchen while I slept," I explained.

Brenda was staring at me wide eyed.

"Mr. Northman, you've been with Miss Stackhouse all evening?" the detective asked the vampire.

"Yes," Eric answered promptly, offering the man not a syllable more than was required to satisfy his question. There was a moment of eying up between Detective and (unbeknown) Sheriff.

"Er, am I suspect?" I interrupted their male posturing and let my disbelief tinge my voice.

"We're asking everyone with access to the property to recount their whereabouts this evening," he informed me.

"Do we know how they got in?" I asked.

"I don't think we can draw any firm conclusions at this point in time," Coughlin said evasively. He turned his attention back to his notebook then and we stood there waiting for several minutes as he completely ignored us.

In part, this was a skill of his trade; making people wait around tended to make them nervous if they were guilty. In another part, he was simply putting all the ducks he'd gathered in a row, going through the notes he'd taken and trying to get a clear picture of everyone's alibis and whereabouts. Brenda and I glanced back and forth between each other and everything going on around us. She had a bunch of things she wanted to ask me, and at the top of the list was why the vampire was here with me. More immediately, she was worried about what was taken, and underneath that, she was wondering how long this was all going to take, not only tonight, but tomorrow. Eric was standing aloof, his eyes impassively scanning the scene before him. He practically had a bird's eye view, after all.

"Detective Coughlin? How long will you need us to stay tonight?" I asked.

"You got somewhere to be, Miss Stackhouse?" He was a suspicious man by nature, and I tried not to take offense.

"Only if I'm not needed," I smiled faintly. "But if I can be of use here, I'd be glad to get started." I did my very best to sound eager and willing to help. I certainly didn't want to stand around all night as so many people out here seemed content to be doing.

"I'll see if they're ready for you inside," he said gruffly, before shuffling off.

I turned to Brenda, demanding all the details. She pulled me a few feet away from Eric and explained in a hushed voice that about forty-five minutes after everyone was out of the building, just after seven, there was a failed attempt at entry to the vault, at which point the vault security company alerted her. Whenever there is an issue with the vault or the alarms overnight, the standard procedure is that she needs to come down here and meet a police officer to ensure nothing is amiss. It had only happened once since I'd been working here, where a potted plant had toppled over mysteriously, triggering the motion sensors. That had been months ago, though, just a fluke thing.

Just after the first call, she'd gotten a second call that there had been a power surge in the building, but at that point she was already on her way. When she arrived here, she found the police officer attending to the night guard, Chip Young, who was found unconscious on the sidewalk. He'd been taken to the hospital. When backup arrived, they searched the building and found the vault had been broken into. She hadn't seen it herself, she'd only been allowed into her office to retrieve a summary of the contents of the vault for the detectives. She'd been questioned, and she'd spent the rest of the evening standing around out here on the phone.

When she finished telling it all, we'd gone back to standing around staring and lip-biting. "Shit," she said, as she looked up.

I whipped around to see what she was looking at, and a staid looking man in his early sixties was striding towards us. He was powerfully built, let alone for a man of his age, and he radiated calm authority. It wasn't a uniformed officer. Had he been in his uniform he would have outranked everyone here. Well, except maybe Eric.

"Brenda," he greeted, coming to her side and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Colonel Flood, thank you for coming," she responded automatically, though I knew she'd had no idea he was going to show up. Despite her initial surprise to see him, she found a tremendous comfort in the Were's presence beside her.

"Parnell called and told me what happened here tonight," he said. Though he spoke to Brenda, his eyes were now trained on Eric. It was no surprise he'd been informed; there are a few Weres on the police force. Just like private security or the military, it's a line of work to which the two-natured are well suited. Naturally any Were on duty here tonight would inform their Packmaster of what had happened.

Brenda is the daughter and the sister of pack members, but technically she is of no significance to the Shreveport Were pack herself. Only firstborn children tend to be acknowledged by the Pack (as only they are potential members), but I suppose her position here merits a little more recognition than the norm. This was certainly a matter of supernatural interest. I also couldn't help but assume that the Sheriff's presence among the throng had hastened the Packmaster's arrival tonight. I watched as either nodded to the other, the modicum of courtesy.

Colonel Flood hadn't acknowledged me with any more than a passing glance and perhaps another slight nod. I could sense that he wanted to speak privately to Brenda, so I excused myself and moved away from them. The retired Air Force Colonel too, knew me only as the god-daughter of Mr. Cataliades. When we were introduced, he'd accepted without another thought that I was kind of similar to Brenda; just a fond relation from a family with supernatural ties, but nothing special myself. It had been the same sort of formal meet and greet as I'd had with the vampire Sheriff, when I'd first moved up to Shreveport.

I headed towards the building; not the entrance, but just the front wall. I needed to clear my head. There were so many voices, so many minds buzzing with activity. It was different from the crowd at the nightclub. While that had been large, the thoughts were all pretty similar, and slightly dulled by alcohol or whatever other substances had been at work numbing the clientèle. This was a mess of sharp, speculative minds going in a hundred different directions. I pushed my shields up and focused my attention on the silent vampire mind moving closer to me.

"Are you feeling ill again?"

"No," I said, through closed eyes. "Just taking a breather. A moment to collect myself," I clarified.

"I know what a 'breather' is. What is the Shreveport Packmaster doing here?"

"He's wondering the same about you," I told Eric. "Stay put for a minute, that big empty head of yours is lovely to focus on."

I could only imagine the expression on his face, but I couldn't help a small grin at my own joke. I felt him move beside me. I could understand why that was more desirable to him, not having his back to a bunch of strangers. It was probably instinctual.

"You are no longer frightened," he observed.

"Not at the moment, no. I figure you're not fool enough to try to harm me in front of the whole Shreveport P.D."

He didn't acknowledge that. After a moment, he curled his hand around mine. My eyes shot open and I quickly turned my head towards him, my eyebrows up.

"You have said touch amplifies the connection to your mind. Does it enhance the quiet of my void as well?" Seemed he preferred my earlier explanation to the insinuation of empty-headedness.

I considered a moment before I answered, "Yes."

He nodded at that, and made a little shooing motion at me, indicating I should get back to taking my little rest.

"Thanks," I said, relaxing back against the wall again. He gave a slight twitch of his fingers around mine. I didn't know if this was his idea of an apology, or if he was just keeping his tool properly oiled, so to speak, the same way he'd remembered to stop for my coffee break. Either way, I appreciated it for the few minutes it lasted.

He gave my fingers a squeeze and then released my hand and I opened my eyes again to see the owner of the mind I'd felt approaching and focused on me.

"Sookie Stackhouse?" The police officer who appeared before me was young and keen. He had bright blue eyes and short cropped black hair. I bet he got it trimmed every week. Even at this hour of the night he didn't have a hint of five o'clock shadow, which only enhanced his conscientiously neat appearance. This was the most interesting case he'd seen since he joined the force, and he was eager and excited to be involved in any small way. The embroidered patch above his left breast informed me that his name was Marks.

"Yes officer," I nodded, stepping off the wall.

"They're ready for you inside," he told me, with no further explanation. He didn't have any to offer, he'd just been sent to retrieve me by Detective Coughlin.

I moved to follow the policeman, and so did Eric.

"Just Miss Stackhouse, sir," Officer Marks said, holding up a hand to halt the vampire. It was an inoffensive gesture. Marks had either registered or been informed that Eric was vampire, but bore him no particular hostility. This was a crime scene, and Eric was just a person who wasn't cleared to enter it.

"I'll be out as soon as I can," I told him, before allowing the officer to lead me inside.

It was odd to be escorted through a place that I inhabited practically every day as if I were the guest in this establishment, but I let myself follow downstairs without complaint. The short hallway that stretched between my lab and the vault seemed like tight quarters with the four officers already crowding it before our arrival. Two were uniformed like Officer Marks. One was Detective Coughlin, and that last, I was informed, was Detective Givens, who worked in forensics. With relief, I saw that my lab was still dark and closed. The door to the vault however, was flung open, and the bright fluorescent light from inside flooded the hallway already spotlit by the emergency lights. There was a backup generator for the rest of the building, but the vault, its light, and its climate control, were separated from the main power source. They were all evidently still functioning.

I frowned. "That door can't stay open like that; the humidity and temperature in there are meant to stay constant." I was addressing no one in particular, but I couldn't help but voice my concerns. I saw that the forensics guy at least was wearing gloves. Latex, but it was better than nothing.

"I understand Ms. Hesterman has been in touch with the vault company. As soon as we've finished down here, she can bring them in and put your system back on line," said a woman as she emerged from the vault's interior.

She scanned the hall briefly as she joined us. "Marks, Vasquez, it's getting a little crowded down here." My escort and another of the uniforms immediately retreated up the stairs.

"Ms. Stackhouse?" she addressed me again, and I nodded. "I'm Detective Cara Ambroselli. Ms. Hesterman tells us you'll be able to help us confirm what should be in here." She'd given me the once over and was drawing no apparent conclusions from my appearance, unlike Givens, who was thinking that I was both a little too young and a little too pretty to be an authority on anything.

"Er, yes," I agreed. "Well, not from memory. I can confirm against our records."

"Yes," she agreed, and flipped open a folder she'd had tucked under her arm. "I've got that list here," she said, holding it out to me. I took it, but hesitated to follow her inside.

"May I step into my lab for a moment? I need to wash and glove my hands," I explained.

Ambroselli nodded and then followed me across the hall. I tried to ignore the way she watched me like a hawk as I flipped on one of the lights, scrubbed and dried my hands and grabbed a set of my gloves. I grabbed a marker from my workbench as we left, holding it out so she could see what I'd picked up. I gestured to her that I was done and we exited once again and I locked the door behind me.

"Why cloth gloves?" she asked, with passing interest.

"They absorb oils," I answered. Clients ask all the time. "Less chance of transference. They also don't make your hands sweat like rubber or latex."

It took me about forty-five minutes to go through the room while the detective stood by. I went shelf to shelf and just scanned down the list and marked everything as I found it. The list wasn't collated to reflect the position of items down here, so I could easily see why they were having me do it. It would have taken them four or five times as long to identify everything themselves, if it were even possible. There was some disarray, some items had been knocked to the ground. With the Detective's permission, I straightened up, as I could. She informed me that the area had already been photographed.

I frowned when I started to see the pattern of what was missing. Gold and silver, precious items. I knew where the Byzantine jewelry should have been, and it wasn't there. That made me wince. My stomach was in knots as I moved closer to the Herbahz lot.

"Oh thank God," I said, when I shifted the foam coverings and saw that the set appeared to be intact.

"Special, this stuff?" Ambroselli's voice came from over my shoulder. She was quiet, but I knew she was there, so it didn't startle me.

"Yes," I sighed, breathing out my relief.

"What are they?" she obviously hadn't noted the stake.

"Fine-work tools from the pre-Christian era," I said automatically. "Precious metals. Very rare examples." It was a true statement that was simultaneously completely misleading.

"They must have been missed. Good that they were covered up."

"Very," I agreed.

I finished going down my list, and the detective supplied me with a highlighter to note the missing items. It wasn't a whole lot in quantity. Value was a different kettle of fish.

"Most of the gold and silver then," Ambroselli observed, once I'd returned the papers to her and she'd had a chance to scan it. Most of the silver Wilson had brought in hours before had been taken, too.

"Right," I said dully. It bothered me, though, and I wasn't the only one.

"What's special on this list?" she asked me.

"Some of the jewelry, maybe. The pre-Columbian pendant, maybe the Turkish gold. It's hard to say, ma'am. Those are the rarer items, the older ones, definitely valuable, but," I started to say.

"But perhaps not worth all this trouble," she summarized.

She summoned Brenda then, who appeared and went over the list. I heard as she registered what had and hadn't been taken, and felt an echo of my same relief. She looked smooth and professional, but I could tell that inside she was deeply shaken by the events of the evening.

"Sookie, we'll be closed tomorrow. I've already let everyone else know." She had a dozen thoughts streaming through her brain and by the sound of her voice she'd just picked one tether at random and let it drag her along. "I need you to take your laptop home and work on that analysis from today." She looked up and directed her next comment to the Detective. "That's okay right? She can remove her laptop from the property?"

Once again Detective Ambroselli followed me into my lab while I retrieved my laptop. After that, I was escorted from the building by Detective Coughlin.

"You can head home now, Ms. Stackhouse. Please keep your cell phone on in case we need to get in touch with you again tonight or tomorrow."

"Sure, Detective, thank you."

He left my side after that, and I saw that the crowd out front had dwindled slightly. Eric wasn't where I'd left him, but he appeared beside me as I headed back around to the parking lot. We walked in silence to his car, and he was back to being the gentlemanly vamp as he got the door for me and held my computer while I got inside, handing it back before he closed me in.

"What was taken?" he asked.

"Nothing particularly unique," I shrugged. "Human things."

"A human crime, then," he surmised.

"I've no idea. I suppose it could just as easily be a supe crime meant to look like a human crime. I mean if it was humans, why not just rob a bank or something?"

I wasn't really looking for an answer and he didn't have one.

We arrived back at Pam's and I was surprised to realize that I'd only barely exceeded my two hour time limit. I frowned as I watched him moving swiftly towards the front door again, and hung back in the driveway. He was standing before me again the instant he realized I wasn't just behind him. I flinched as he appeared, and withdrew a couple of steps.

"You must..." he began.

"Yeah, I know," I interrupted. "Believe me Sheriff, you've been clear about what I must. You'll forgive me if I'm reluctant to hurry along behind you while you're leading my hand back to the stove."

As we stood there I tried to pull together some kind of game plan. The first order of business would be figuring out exactly what they'd done to Pam and how to undo it, the second would be why, and the third would be convincing the Sheriff that Jack Mason didn't deserve the death penalty. That last bit would have to be done first, because once he had his answers, Jack's life was forfeit unless the vampire was convinced otherwise.

"Are you going to kill him once Pam is restored?"

He didn't answer.

"I'm having a real hard time walking back in there and facing that man when I already know how it will end for him. If he needs others to undo the spell, like I think he does, then that's their lives too. It's different from those blood drainers. This guy... he took care of her. He genuinely thought he would be helping her..."

"Why would he think that?" was his only quiet response.

"I don't know. I could find out, but," I frowned up at the vampire. "It's the same. Once you have all your answers, he's dead meat, so why should I even try?"

I turned to stare into the neighbor's yard as the hissing of their sprinkler system started up. Arcs of fine mist fanned out across the deep green turf. It was a suitable distraction.

"You wish to decide his fate?"

"No!" I practically shouted. Even he cocked his head as if listening hard for any indication that someone else could have heard me.

"Maybe you're comfortable with that thumbs up thumbs down, live or die, sort of power, but I'm not, and I don't ever want to be. I just..." I looked away from him again, and bit down on my lip while I thought of what I could say to express what I was feeling. If it was even worth trying to explain at all.

"Knowing that you're more than ready to throw his life away the second he's no longer of use to you, or that you're so willing to put his life into someone else's hands... what am I to make of that, when it comes to my life?"

"You believe that after you help me, I will rescind the protection I have granted you," he concluded.

"Won't you? I'm sure my end won't be as immediate as Mr. Mason's in there. I'm sure there'll be another emergency or two that I'll be compelled to help you with first, but in the end... You've been paid for your silence, Sheriff, but we both know that only applies so long as you're never asked to speak."

He wouldn't expose me, but he wouldn't help hide me.

He raised his hand and I turned my head away, ready to deflect a blow. I knew I'd been insulting. The truth hurts, and I'd expected a literal response to my figurative slap. Instead, his large hand came to my shoulder and he steered me toward the house. I let myself be led this time, feeling deflated. Once inside, he pushed me somewhat gently down on to the couch next to Jack Mason.

I clasped Jack's hand in mine and gestured for the vampire to release him. When he did, the moans started again immediately. Jack's face was swollen and bruised. His pain radiated through me and I paled with even the shadow of it. Clasping his hands, I moved to kneel in front of him, placing myself in his field of vision. I spoke softly to him, luring him in to the same sort of trance I'd used to calm Daphne. It's not glamour. I can only compel a temporary calm, while I'm actively trying. When my great grandfather embraces me, I am overcome with a sense of love and wellbeing that would be so easy to lose myself in. This is only the faintest echo of that, this fleeting comfort I can give when I concentrate with all my might.

I spoke to him softly, my voice and my words gentle, coaxing him along the threads of his plans.

"It's a stasis spell, on Pam specifically. It's usually for things, places; it worked because she's dead. There's a man, Parton, and a woman, no, a girl, Chelsea. They can lift it, while she's restrained. It's what they had to do to keep her fed."

I provided what I could to the Sheriff in a dull, flat voice. The appearances and locations of the coven members Jack would need to correct Pam. I pressed forward, answering the vampire's demands to know more.

"They found a spell to sever blood bonds between humans and vampires. They adapted it. They meant to use that first, to sever her from you. They didn't know you could still feel her at all, they..." I paused, listening, wanting to be sure I'd gotten it right. "Those spells they had in place around the shed where they were keeping her, were intended to suppress your bond entirely. You were meant to think she was already finally dead. They never expected you to come looking."

I took a moment to refocus on Jack, my thumbs moving across his palms in rhythmic circles. His pain was present, but it wasn't at the fore.

"Why Pam?" I whispered to the man.

His thoughts were sad, as they turned to his sister. In his mind she was tanned and laughing, healthy and joyful. A shiver of fear ran through me, and I couldn't even tell if it was his or mine. This wasn't Diane, but another woman that he pictured.

"Was she turned vampire?" I asked him, drawing him from the hazy memories.

My question startled him, but then he answered.

Not yet. Not ever.

He thought of someone else then, gaunt and ashen, suffering for love. It was love, as he saw it, and he approved of love. He'd been trying to help them.

"Oh Jack," I said sadly. I reached up and stroked his hair on the good side of his face. He leaned into my hand very slightly, and it made my heart hurt. He really did have the best intentions.

I turned to the vampire then, and motioned to Jack, indicating he should put the glamour back on. It would prevent him from feeling the pain of his jaw.

Once he was immersed in the familiar static, I turned and stood.

"You have everything you need now. I would like to go home please."

He'd said very little since I'd cut him to the quick out on the driveway. He'd get over it. He was a vampire, and he wouldn't care what a human thought of him. He didn't care about humans at all.

"I will glamour the man to forget he took Pam, to forget all of this," he said, breaking the silence as we drove back to my house.

"That's an awfully big hole."

"The injury will substantiate some memory loss." He sounded satisfied.

"He has a dirt bike," I offered impassively. Might as well make it believable. "It's in his garage. He used to go riding all the time with his sisters."

"Thank you, that is useful to know."

"How's Daphne holding up?" I asked him. He didn't answer. He didn't know. "She'll be real happy to get Pam back too, I'm sure."

"I'm sure."

"Hey, what's her last name?" I asked, as though the thought had just occurred to me.

"I don't know," the vampire answered.

I had my laptop ready when we pulled up to my house. I got out of the car and strode toward the door. He caught up by the time I'd reached the door, and he followed me inside. I didn't bother to ask why. I produced my phone and called Mr. Cataliades.

"Miss Stackhouse," his warm voice came. "Am I to presume you are home and safe for the evening?"

"Yes sir," I answered. "Home and safe, and my present business with the Sheriff is now concluded." I lifted an eyebrow at the towering vampire, as if challenging him to refute this statement. He merely nodded in agreement.

"I understand there was some trouble at your place of work this evening," the demon said.

"Yes sir," I confirmed. News just travels like wildfire in the supe world. "But we can talk about that tomorrow. I'm very tired now."

"Of course, Miss Stackhouse. Good night."

I hung up my phone and waited for the vampire to leave. When he didn't, I moved past him and held open the door he'd shut behind him.

"It would be nice to hear when Pam is fully recovered. You can have your day guy call me. Vague message is fine, I'd just... like to know."

He nodded. "Of course. Thank you for your assistance."

"No need to thank me, Sheriff." It's not like you're actually grateful.

"It's Mason, by the way," I told him.

He looked at me questioningly.

"Daphne's last name. It's Mason. Her family couldn't bear to watch her wasting away to be with Pam, you see. She loves your child. They were trying to find a way for them to be together. She didn't know, if that's your next question."

"I see."

"I'm sure you don't. Goodbye, Sheriff Northman," I said, gesturing him out the door. He walked outside and turned around on my porch. Maybe he'd been about to say goodnight in kind, but I didn't wait for that. I closed the door and shot the deadbolt.

A/N: I did not have a chance to reply individually to reviews after the last update - sorry about that. It's getting hard to reply to some of you without spoiling, as well. I did wish to say thank you, both to those of you who I consistently hear from and to those who just take time now and then to drop a line when something particularly sparks. Also for those who have made this story a favorite or subscribed to updates already, it's so flattering. Thanks all around.