A/N: My local grocery has a refrigerator/freezer section in the pet food aisle, but maybe these are not as ubiquitous as I assumed. Frosty Paws Ice Cream for Dogs is a real (and to me, hilarious) product.

The Sookie Stackhouse universe is owned by Charlaine Harris. I am incredibly lucky to have FiniteAnarchy to beta this story. She's just fabulous. Thank you.

Chapter 7 - Tarred and Vampired

I woke up in misery with my head pounding once again. Though I was obviously unhappy about the circumstances surrounding it, I was pleased to have a work-from-home day as a means of kick-starting my recuperation. I glanced at my clock and saw it was already a few minutes after ten. I grasped for my phone, and when I saw I had no missed calls, I let myself doze off for another half hour. It was rest badly needed.

By noon I was up and dressed in jeans and a big bulky sweater. I booted up my laptop and made some coffee, and found only after it had started brewing that I was out of milk and low on cereal, eggs, and a bunch of other things. I knew I was supposed to be working today, but as I had absolutely no intention of being out after dark tonight, nor even of leaving my house again until Sunday, I figured that my extra late start could be excused. I wasn't being irresponsible - I would absolutely get my work done, but I'd had a hell of a week, and darn it, I needed groceries.

The little thermometer by my kitchen window informed me that it was forty-two degrees outside. It was gray and overcast. I dug into my closet and emerged with a hat and scarf and gloves, preparing to greet the arctic wasteland that lay just beyond my front door. It had been a while since I had gone food shopping. I'd meant to go earlier this week, but obviously that hadn't happened.

Since I decided along the way it would be a big trip, I went over to the Walmart Super Center, rather than the Kroger's, which is nearer. It turned out to be a pretty decent time to shop. It wasn't very crowded, which is always nice. There was a man out front dressed up like Santa Claus ringing a bell for charity, and I added a couple of dollars to his collection.

I've heard that you're not supposed to shop when you're hungry. I was blissfully ignoring that sage advice. Though I had my list, I wandered between the shelves and just grabbed what looked good.

After I ran through the food section, I pushed the laden trolley around the rest of the store. It was all decorated for the holiday with big displays on the ends of the aisles, full of convenient, impersonal gifts. I found a pair of shearling house slippers for Gran, and a car detailing kit for Jason. These weren't their main presents, just little extras. I found a wonderful cozy blanket, and when I couldn't think of anyone to give it to as a gift, I decided it would be coming home with me.

Absurdly, at the end of the aisle containing pet supplies, there was a huge refrigerated case containing Cool Kitty Cutlets, Frosty Paws Ice Cream, and all sorts of fancy fresh foods for animals that require cold storage. Adjacent to all this was a huge stock of synthetic blood. I snorted my amusement at so obvious an insult. Way to make your politics known, Walmart. On the other hand, this stuff had proven itself to be pretty useful for fending off an agitated vampire. I grabbed a six pack of TruBlood in type O-negative and popped it into the wagon. O-negative blood, I remembered from high school health class, is the universal donor type. Based on that logic, it would have universal appeal to vampires. I pulled that one right from my rear end, but it sounded reasonable to me. The next display featured decorated holiday tins filled with different kinds of butter cookies. I grabbed one of those, too.

I don't see a lot of point in decorating my house for Christmas. We celebrate the day down on Bon Temps. I don't have a lot of guests who would appreciate the festive ornaments. I don't have a lot of guests, period. I stopped at one of the three giant, open rows of frippery and falderal and debated getting a little light-up tree or something. It just seemed pointless. With a sigh I turned away from the shelf and selected a box of cards and a roll of wrapping paper. That was about all I needed. I considered doubling back for some ice cream, but didn't feel like going for lap 2 around the enormous store. Thoughts of the holidays left me feeling a little melancholy.

Bobby Burnham was parked in front of my house when I returned. He sat in his car until I'd completed each of the three over-burdened trips it took me to unload my trunk. Not that it was his job to help me or anything, but I feel like most people would have offered a hand. I mean, he was plainly here to see me. When he still didn't approach after I'd gotten the last of it inside, I rolled my eyes in his general direction and started putting things away. He finally did knock a few minutes later, and he had a couple of minutes to wait in the cold while I got the last of my purchases into cabinets. Two can play at that game.

I opened the door and he held out a thick, cream-colored envelope.

"Mr. Northman asked that this be delivered to you today," he informed me.

"Thanks," I said, taking it and turning it over in my hands. It was addressed simply to Miss Sookie Stackhouse.

I was about to make a snippy remark about how he could have just left it in the mailbox when I read from his mind that he'd been specifically ordered to present this to me in person. I think Eric might troll his day guy, a little bit. I just love that expression. Real trolls are so rare as to be practically extinct. I've never met one, but Niall has told me stories.

Mr. Burnham had been waiting a little over half an hour for me to return. It was clear that he was very curious about the contents of the missive and so I obliged him and opened it. The folded note inside simply read:

She is well.

-E

The signature was scrawled a lot larger than the short sentence that preceded it.

Since I am a person who is exposed to an awful lot of extraneous information on a near perpetual basis, I could appreciate the vampire's brevity. I took this to mean that Pam was restored to her formal self with no appreciable complications.

I smiled. Though I'd been fairly certain when we parted last night that she would be, I found it immeasurably reassuring to have this confirmed. So much can go wrong when you're dealing with magic, and what the witches had been attempting to do to Pam was wholly untested, as far as I knew, making it all the more risky.

"Thanks," I said again. "Please tell him thank you for letting me know."

Bobby frowned at that. He was immediately haughty about being tasked by me to do anything, even something as simple as passing along a message. Beyond that, he was annoyed that said message was so vague. He was very curious about why he'd been instructed to carry me messages personally twice now. He wanted very much to know exactly what his boss had to tell me, what I was grateful to learn. He was terribly nosy, this guy! But, he was also too afraid of Eric to try to read the letter or ask himself. At least he's not stupid.

Once Eric's day guy departed, I got to work on my analysis. Without some of the references I would have at work it was slow going initially, but once I hit my stride I got a lot done. Maybe even more than I would have gotten done at Splendide, since my coffee was so much more conveniently nearby and I had no interruptions. By seven in the evening my stomach was grumbling so I emailed what I'd done to Brenda so she could have information to start forwarding to potential buyers. She called me back within minutes.

"Sookie, thanks for getting a start on that today," she began.

"Sure thing Brenda. Though I need to confess, I got a very late start this afternoon."

"That's alright. We all had a late night last night."

"How did things go after I left?"

"We didn't get the vault sealed until four this morning," she informed me, and I groaned right along with her.

"Were you there all day?"

"I got a few hours of sleep before going back. Someone from Upper Management is coming tomorrow to assess the situation here."

"Oh." My voice was dull. I could picture her nodding her agreement.

Splendide is an international enterprise, but it's small compared to some of the better known auctioneers. It's been around for as long as those esteemed houses, maybe longer, but under many different names. Upper Management is how Brenda and I refer to the owner of Splendide, or his agents. Mintah is a very intimidating guy. Well, he's a very intimidating mostly-demon. He has almost nothing to do with the operation of the company. That's all left to humans for the most part, and it runs like a regular human business.

Demons, at least part-demons, fit very well into the few in-between places in the supe world and the human world as well. They have a good reputation for neutrality, here. They have no appeal to vampires, blood-wise. I'm not even sure vamps can ingest demon blood. Demons and fairies have always gotten along well in general, because of the distant relation between the two races. Since the two-natured tend to only object to things that directly interfere with them, and demons don't, they are largely indifferent.

It's a pretty small population of demons that frequent this world. There are far fewer of them around than fairies, even. I happen to know a several demons and part-demons, but they're not like the two-natured or the vampires, who tend to turn up all over the place. It's a relatively small community. Not tight-knit, just narrow in scope.

Mintah is ancient. I don't think you can survive to be that old without being incredibly crafty or incredibly dangerous, and most likely both. He is also in exile from Hell. The Underworld. Their own world.

It's not really anything to do with Christianity. Nor is it like what Dante Alighieri imagined either, from what I've been told. It's still nowhere I'd want to visit, not that I could. A creature with enough enemies to put him on the outs with Hell though, that's what Mintah is. It's definitely not because he's an angel. Angels are... oh anyway.

If Upper Management is coming here, it means he's taking this robbery personally. You do not want a creature like Mintah pissed off at you. He's not mean. He's not even rude, when you meet him, though he's quite serious. The word "exacting" comes to mind. As in severe or captious. As in exacting punishment.

Yes. Exacting.

"Are you okay?" I asked Brenda tremulously. Brenda couldn't be blamed for the robbery. She'd been the last person out of the building. The vault had been secure, the guard had been in place, and the alarms had been set. It was routine. There'd been no slips, no oversights, no carelessness. I wasn't nervous for her on that score, but I would still completely understand her if she was freaking out a little bit.

"Yes," she said, though I heard her gulp.

"What did the police say?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Well they're still waiting for Chip to wake up," she began.

"Really? He was that injured?"

"I think they were, or are, keeping him out. Whatever hit him... well, they're concerned about his brain swelling or something. He's the only potential eye-witness."

"Who is guarding him?" I asked immediately.

"The police."

"Do we know how they got in?"

"They were able to override the timer and somehow force through one of the electronic locks. That was the power surges I guess."

"So quickly..." I began. Cracking a ten digit combination, even if you have the software to run through the permutations, still takes a lot of time.

"I don't know. More to the point I don't know why," she said.

I caught myself nodding, though she couldn't see it. "Nor I," I agreed vehemently. "Nothing missing was particularly singular."

"We'll have to see what They say tomorrow." I could hear her capitalizing the "They."

"Call me and let me know?" I ask her.

"I may have to call you to come down, depending on what they ask," Brenda warns me.

"Sure," I agree. So much for my weekend at home.

"Get some sleep tonight then," she says. "Or are you being allowed to?"

"I'm allowed to and I plan to. I concluded my obligation last night, for now anyway."

I heard her draw a breath as though she were going to say another something cautioning about my unwilling dealings with the vampires. I just didn't want to hear it.

"Sleep actually sounds like a really good idea, Brenda. I think I'm going to curl up on the couch for a little while."

"Alright Sook," she sighed. "I'll talk to you soon then."

We said goodnight then. We needed to talk a lot more, but there's only so much you can say on a cell phone.

I closed my laptop and tucked away the notes I'd been working with. I put a frozen pizza in the oven, set a timer on it, and while it was cooking I flipped on the television searching for a movie or something to watch. I suppose I must have been more tired than I realized because the next thing I knew there was a high keening sound and it was incredibly hot and something was burning? I leapt out of bed but of course I wasn't in bed, so I wasn't expecting the coffee table and I tripped and went down hard landing on my chin. I let out a low whimper as pain flashed through me, and had a moment to identify my smoke alarm, intermingled with the incessant beeping of the microwave timer I'd set. Who knows how long that had been going off.

I struggled to my feet and stumbled into the kitchen, remembering at least to pull an oven mitt on before I wrenched the pan containing the charred remains of what would have been my dinner out and into the sink, flipping on the cold water. I hit the button on the microwave to stop that and then flung open the nearest window to the cold night. I dragged a chair over to the smoke alarm and tried to pry it open, my aim set on disconnecting its battery. After a moment or two of pawing ineffectually at the impenetrable plastic casing, I climbed down and went for a notebook to fan away the smoky air.

Where's a six and a half foot tall flying vampire when you actually need him, huh?

The blaring alarm had finally subsided when a quick rapping came at my door. Oh hell, I prayed someone hadn't called the fire department. There were no flashing lights outside though, and the brain outside wasn't one I could read. A peep through the front window showed me a not unwelcome visitor. I opened the door.

"Hey," I greeted. I sounded weary.

Diantha was sniffing at the air with a wry smirk on her face. "Playingwithfire?" she asked, in her quick manner of speech.

"All done for now. Sorry you missed the fun," I said, stepping back to let her in. She flicked her fingers in a wave hello as she entered and a thin tendril of smoke curled up. She wore a wicked smile, teal blue leggings, purple shorts, and a loose, sleeveless t-shirt with artful cutouts, knotted together in some kind of pattern.

"Looking good," I observed. She looked like she was headed to a wild rave or a rock concert, but in that context, she looked great.

"Thanks," she said, looking me over in kind. "Youlooklikeshit."

"Thanks," I returned sardonically.

I swung the door back and forth a few times, helping to pull some fresh air in and push some more of the foul air out before I closed it more securely. I opened the front windows and switched on the ceiling fan to help with that before heading back into the kitchen.

"Have a seat," I offered, and Diantha pulled the chair I'd tried to scramble up on back over to the table and sat down in it. "Can I offer you a drink?" I asked, and poured some tea out for both of us when she accepted. I drank mine down and started puttering around the kitchen, flipping on the fans and soaking the charred pizza pan. I assumed correctly that the burnt smell in the air wouldn't bother Diantha at all.

"Unclesentme" she told me. "He'sworriedaboutyou."

"I appreciate that," I said. "But I'm mostly fine."

"Mintah'scominghere."

"Brenda told me," I confirmed, though not that it was Mintah himself.

"Hesaidyouhadtoworkforthevamps."

"Just the one," I agreed. "But that's done now."

"Why'dyouburnyourfood?" she asked me.

"I didn't mean to," I frowned at her. "I fell asleep while it was cooking."

"Shouldn'tdothat," she informed me.

"Thanks for the tip," I smirked.

"Noproblem," she said offhandedly. "I'msupposedtogiveyouthis," she said, producing a small box and sliding it to me, across the table. Who knows where she'd had it tucked away? Her shorts didn't exactly accommodate a lot of pocket space.

"What is it?" I asked. She just stared at me blankly, before looking at the box, then back to me. I took her meaning. What are you asking me for? Just open it.

Nestled in some cotton was a small pendant on a silver chain.

"It'sforprotection."

"I've already got silver jewelry though," I frowned.

"Itsforillintent. Causeyoucan'theareveryone. Givesaspark."

"What?"

"It's a charm against ill intent. Because you can't hear," and here she tapped her head, "everyone." Diantha has two speeds; normal fast, and so slow it's like she's explaining to a foreign person who is also very stupid. This was spoken in the latter.

"So it's a charm against ill-intentioned vampires?"

She nodded.

"And it gives a spark when they are?"

She nodded again.

"Okay then," I said, shrugging. "What do you mean by a spark?" I said distractedly, as I lifted the necklace out of its box and reached behind my neck to fasten it.

She leaned over and pressed a fingertip underneath my arm and gave me a little jolt.

"Yowch!" I shrieked, my hands immediately shooting down. She leaned out of the way with a devilish grin that showed off the sharpened points of her teeth.

"Littlespark."

"Please don't ever feel compelled to show me a big spark," I muttered, rubbing my arm. She grinned wider. "So how's life in the Big Easy?" I asked.

"TheQueen'sgetttingmarried."

"Yeah? To whom?"

"MaybeArkansas. MaybeMississippi."

"She hasn't decided yet?" I chuckled. "Some gals have all the luck, eh?"

She gave me a curious look, but I waved her off. Instead I asked about both the Arkansas and Mississippi vamps she'd met. Diantha works for her uncle as a messenger, or a runner, which means that she's often employed carrying messages for the Queen. That's a literal carry, and a literal run. I knew without being told that she had run here from New Orleans, which is several hours away by car. She's very fast. I suppose Eric is not the only person who hasn't embraced email for important communiques.

We chatted for a while longer until she had to go. Diantha is not a hugger. You wouldn't want her to be. She's way stronger than she looks, first of all, but when you do hug her you can feel how wrong and weird her body is. Despite her lithe frame, or maybe because of it, she's bumpy and muscled where no muscles should be. She's very hard and there's a tension in her, like a spring coiled as tightly as it can go before it must unwind. It's just not a particularly comforting experience. Instead, she pressed her hand to my shoulder and let a comfortable warmth radiate through me as she departed. It was a nice little visit.

I sprayed some air freshener around in the front rooms and finished tidying up. Back in my bedroom, I could barely smell the evidence of the oven disaster, which was a relief. I cracked my window anyway and snuggled down into bed.

Saturday I got my wish of having nothing to do after all, so I tended to some things around the house in the morning and spent the afternoon intermittently napping on the couch and watching old movies. I waited for Brenda to call, but she never did, and I hoped that Niall would visit, but he never did either. Around four o'clock I finally got up and took a shower. I'd once read in an advice column that if you feel lousy, you can try to make yourself look nice, and it'll pep you up. A little psychosomatic healing, I guess. It couldn't hurt, and frankly, I didn't want any more visitors showing up and telling me how like shit I looked. That's no good feeling.

So I scrubbed, and shaved, and washed and conditioned. After I got out of the shower I dried and styled my hair and slathered myself in lotion. Stupid winter. Darn. I should have tried to go to the tanning salon today. My pedicure was holding up well, but I stripped the polish off my fingernails. As I did so, I couldn't ignore the fact that my injury was looking worse and worse.

Maybe I really should have taken Eric up on the offer of healing. I didn't know if he'd meant that he would just seal the wound with his coagulant, or rub some of his blood on it, or what. It sounds gross, but thinking of it like a balm or a salve helps. I'd never tried it personally, but it must work. They leave all kinds of puncture marks in their "food," and normally wounds like that would continue bleeding after the vampire was done drinking. Since most donors don't walk around dripping blood, what the vampires do to seal the wounds and facilitate healing must be very effective.

There's also the possibility that he intended me to ingest some of his blood, which would heal from the inside out. That's a lot more effective, but then there's the litany of side-effects. May cause sex appeal, horniness, and the loss of free will. Talk to your Master about taking vampire blood...

Nah. It's not actually as cut and dry as that.

I'd read a study recently run by a group of doctors in a drug rehabilitation center about the lingering effects of vampire blood ingestion. They tended to fade within a few weeks. The scope of that study had been very limited, and hadn't even mentioned the influence that the vampire can have on the human, but I figured it was a decent guideline.

Hopefully I won't have to give it any more thought. With any luck my great grandfather would find me tomorrow at Gran's house, and be able to sort me out. It's pretty convenient to the nearest fairy portal. It technically is the nearest fairy portal, out in her woods anyway.

I re-bandaged the one finger and polished the other nine with a pretty pink that was a near match to the color on my toes. It was like I was getting ready for a hot date or something, though of course I wasn't. The thought made me sigh. Well, the Queen of Louisiana has waited what, eleven, twelve hundred years to get married? I could stave off my own panic until I was at least thirty or so.

The problem for me is the telepathy plain and simple. Even though I've gotten a lot better with it since my high school days, I still can't quite keep everything out, and I wouldn't want to have to. At home, I like to be able to relax. When I first met Weres I was real excited about that prospect, but I've found, to my great disappointment, that the more I'm exposed to them, the easier they are to read; and then of course some things come through loud and clear regardless. Some of the other two-natured are a little fuzzier, but I worry that it'll be more of the same, once I get to know them. Plus, shifters and weres have got all sorts of breeding obligations, and I'm just not a sharer when it comes to men in my life. Even without the actual experience, I know I'm just not that kind of girl. Fairies are also kind of out for now, with the whole, "Half-breeds are an abomination," sentiment that many fairies hold. I'm just un-date-able.

With another sigh, I tested my freshly applied polish and found it dry. I padded out to the kitchen and set to making some dinner, determined to actually prepare and consume something more substantial than microwave popcorn before passing out again. My brow furrowed as I took in all the crap I'd purchased the day before. It seemed I'd picked up the supplies to bake Christmas cookies. Maybe I'd do that one night this week. I pulled a jar of spaghetti sauce and some pasta out of the cabinets and set the water to boiling.

Just as I sat down to my dinner there was a knock at my door. Vampire. My hand flew up to my collar and I felt the new pendant. Time for a test run, I guess. It wasn't the Sheriff, it was his child. I opened the door with a smile.

"Pam," I greeted warmly. "I'm so glad you're feeling better." It was a little odd to know her without having met her before, but it seemed the most polite thing to say. She was dressed in a daring black velvet ensemble; tight bodice, skirt slit up to her thigh, tall shoes. They made her only an inch or so taller than me. She was a tiny little thing, and my smile may have faltered as I took her in. This certainly wasn't the kind of getup I'd pictured the vampiress in, though it was the kind of outfit that most humans might expect of a vampire.

"Miss Stackhouse?" she questioned.

"That's me," I agreed.

"My Master has bid me come to pay my respects to you and to thank you for the service you have done for he and I," she told me, in a quick, dispassionate tone.

"You're welcome," I smiled. This was a pleasant surprise. Even though I could see she was here out of obligation, it was a courtesy call I hadn't anticipated.

She stood there for a long moment, taking me in.

"He has also bid me to inquire after your health."

"I'm fine," I lied easily. I bit my lip for a moment before making a quick decision. "I'm just about to sit down to dinner. Would you like to come in for a moment? I can offer you a TruBlood?"

I was curious about her, plain and simple. I was curious about the fates of Daphne and her family as well. She would be bound to the same obligations as her maker concerning my security. It wasn't any more dangerous than what I'd already invited in, really.

"That would be...welcome," she agreed.

I stepped back to allow her inside. It was interesting to watch as she took in the layout of my little house in the same way Eric had done, her interested expression a mirror of his. I led her to the kitchen, and gestured to the table while I got a bottle of the blood out of the refrigerator.

"Would you like a glass?" I asked her, as it heated. "I'm afraid I don't know the etiquette."

"That is unnecessary. The detergents can leave a fine residue that is unpalatable." Good to know.

I folded a paper towel and set her drink down on top of it, then sat down again beside her and helped myself to my dinner while it was still warm.

"I am told it was you who discovered me in the witch's lair."

I snorted. Very attractive while eating. "It wasn't much of a lair. I take it you do not remember anything at all?"

"Bright light, and synthetic blood."

"They had you in kind of an underground bedroom. There were... soft sheets and pillows. I think they thought they were tending to you."

"She was very different from the others, when I met her," Pam said, after a long moment.

"Daphne?" I asked.

"Yes. She is not like the women at the club. I was not a... spectacle to her."

"She seemed very sweet-natured," I said.

"Yes, she was."

"Was?" I frowned.

"Is," Pam corrected. "But we have parted ways."

"That's probably for the best," I agreed.

"Yes. It is a lesson well learned."

"What lesson is that?" She'll probably miss the point, just like her maker.

"One of the many dangers of attaching oneself to any particular human," she said levelly. She must have been waiting for me to take offense.

I smirked. Yup. Just like her maker. "I think the mistake was failing to treat her like a person. I mean it's kind of obvious that you didn't know her very well, despite your attachment."

She raised her eyebrows at that, and I just shrugged.

"If I was dating somebody, I think I'd probably take the time to find out if their brother was a witch. I think I would want my dad to know their last name, too. I mean I know Daphne must have been out of touch with her family for a while. She didn't even know Diane had opened Lux Nails."

I twirled my fork around some more of my pasta and took a big bite, washing it down with some milk.

"It seems to me that if she was living a normal life, and you were having a normal relationship, none of this would have happened," I concluded.

"Normal for humans, you mean," she finally said.

"Isn't that what you guys claim to want? Normal lives, by human standards? I mean why bother coming out of the coffin if you're just going to keep up with all your old ways."

"Not everyone wants that."

"Do you?" I asked. This was the most interesting conversation I'd had in ages.

"I want to be myself," she said, flicking down her fangs and flashing me a startling smile. Not threatening, just off-putting. "I like not having to hide what I am."

"But you do," I argued. "Or else Daphne wouldn't have been under whatever misapprehensions she was about you guys. And even right now," I said, gesturing to her. "I mean for goodness sake, a velvet corset?"

"I am working tonight," she said defensively. "It is what is expected."

"Uh-huh," I said. Sheesh. You'd think she would merit another night off after what she'd been through!

"We all hide some parts of our nature, don't we, Miss Stackhouse?" She said it very pointedly, and I had to wonder if she was trying to get at more than just my telepathy.

"I suppose that's true. And it's Sookie, by the way."

"Sookie, then," she agreed. "I'm to ask you if you are suffering any bad effects from the magic you were exposed to. We have come to an agreement with the coven."

"Oh?" I asked, surprised. I stood up to bring my plate over to the sink and went ahead washing it. A familiar lightheaded feeling washed over me, and I gripped the countertop as I steadied myself.

"Yes. They have been reeducated about the nature of vampires."

I let out a bark of laughter, my head rush leaving me giddy. "I'll just bet they have!"

"They have been made to know that vampires like being vampires," she said dismissively. "I take it you are not suffering then?" The tone of her voice told me she did not care for my laughter in this situation, and I had to agree it was inappropriate, but I just couldn't seem to stop myself.

"If I am, I'll do better than a crazy coven to correct it," I giggled. Why was I giggling? "I think I need to excuse myself Pam. I'm not feeling quite myself tonight."

A sharp spike of pain shot through my hand, radiating up my arm. I dropped the plate which tumbled from the edge of the sink and smashed on the floor. "I think I need to sit down," I slurred.

I woke up in my bed and two vampires, no, one vampire was pacing at the edge of my bed, talking low into a cell phone. My breath caught as I blinked, trying to focus. Suddenly, he was directly above me, and I flinched, making me cry out in pain. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"You hit your head on the counter," Eric informed me. "And you fell in the broken crockery."

"Why are you here?"

"Pam called me. She was unsure what to do with you."

"What did you do with me?"

"I stopped your bleeding." So he'd had my blood. Damn damn damn!

"Thank you for that. I am fine now, you don't have to stay."

He looked at me skeptically.

"Really," I said. "You can go."

"I think not. You were obviously more damaged in your efforts to retrieve Pam than you let on. The wound you sustained on the road in front of the witch's house has worsened. You should have let me tend to it earlier. I will not be held responsible by your Sponsor for returning you in less than pristine condition."

"I'm not some freaking garden tool you borrowed," I gasped. I'd made to voice my indignation sitting up, but the pain across my back as I clenched my muscles had stopped me before I'd gotten started.

"Stop talking about me like I'm some object you need to 'return in pristine condition', I'm a human being." If I could have been yelling, I probably would have been. Instead, it came out low and strained.

"Yes. The human daughter Corbett and Michelle. Orphaned at age seven. Raised by Adele Stackhouse, and the God-daughter of the demon lawyer Desmond Cataliades."

"Um. Yes," I stammered. Someone had definitely done his homework.

"And as a human being, you are less durable than your many supernatural friends."

I didn't bother to argue the many supernatural friends part. I didn't think I had many, but if he did, all the better. That's right buddy, many people will be ticked off if you mess with me. Many.

He stepped nearer to the bed, crouching so we were on a level. He looked over at me with a long, pondering gaze that I returned with one equally searching.

"I would like you to take some of my blood," he said at last.

"Why?"

"It will heal your physical injuries and provide you with increased vigor as you recover from the stresses to your body."

"And it will let you feel my emotions and be able to track me down."

"If you know this, then you know it can also be to your benefit. If you were in danger, for example..."

"The only thing I'm in danger from is you!"

"That is unlikely. You are in danger from anyone opportunistic and mercenary who learns of your ability. You hardly live a cloistered life. I offer this as an extension of my protection."

"I have no desire to be one of your blood thralls, Sheriff."

He got right in my face then, and there was no doubt he was angry. I lifted my hand to clench at the silver pendant. C'mon sparky, give the signal and this guy's invite is rescinded. He glanced down and noted the silver. He moved back, very slightly.

"I do not keep thralls. I do not so freely share my blood with humans."

"Then why?"

"I have just explained to you why."

"You explained the benefit to me. What's the benefit to you?"

"Arguably your protection is of benefit to me. A telepath in good health is infinitely more useful than one who has a fainting spell every other day. It would be equally beneficial to me to know what you are feeling. Your speech and behavior make little sense. Beyond that, you would be inclined to think... more kindly of me."

"I'd be more sexually attracted to you, don't mince words," I huffed out.

"More? That is good to know. But yes."

"And?" I prompted.

"And it will mark you as belonging to me to any vampires who happen across your path."

"I don't want to belong to you."

"You are being belligerent."

"I am expressing reasonable concerns," I shot back.

"It is an appearance. It justifies my interest in you to any who look. It gives my child the right to defend you."

"You'll use it to influence my decisions and how I feel."

He raised his eyebrows at that, for some reason. "I admit I am curious to try, particularly as you cannot be glamoured." I was curious too, and for the same reasons, but that alone surely was no reason to go ahead with it. Gran reminded me often as a child about curiosity and the cat.

"But," he continued. "I have no intention of attempting to control you through any blood tie, even if it proves possible."

"And I just have to trust your word on that."

"As I will be trusting you with my blood," he answered.

His saying it like that reminded me that this was a big deal to them. To vampires. Especially this week, when he'd been so recently reminded that there are witches abroad. That kind of blood magic is rare, but this is Louisiana after all. It would take me a lot more effort to search out a voodoo priestess than it would take him to exert his will on me, but technically, he didn't need magic of any sort to control me if he wanted to. He was giving me something.

"Fine," I agreed.

"Fine?"

"I will take a little bit of your blood to heal and protect and invigorate me, but you are not to use it to try to manipulate or influence me in any way without my say-so, do you agree?"

"I will agree to this," he nodded. I nodded back, accepting his word.

He was the first to break the solemn moment.

"Is there anything else? Dawn is not for another five hours or so, if you wish to continue arguing with me." He had the hint of a smirk. It was the closest thing to good humor I could recall seeing in his face.

"Funny," I said. It was not very funny. Exchanging blood with a vampire is not a funny business. "How do we do this then?"

He stood up, raising his wrist to his mouth. It put his groin right above my eye level, and I did manage to pull myself into a sitting position then, if only to give myself a little distance. There was a tiny puncture noise before he dropped his hand, holding the interior of his wrist in front of me. When I didn't move in right away, he reminded me to drink. I leaned forward and lapped tentatively at the drips. I shuddered in revulsion as the thick, cool, coppery liquid spread across my tongue, but he pushed his wrist to my mouth and after a moment I latched on. As I swallowed the taste changed to something fresh and salty, and as I drew on the little wound I felt his other hand come up to stroke my hair and the back of my head. I lifted my hand to hold him to me and tried desperately to ignore the way his hips rocked forward slightly, in time with my every pull. When he let out a long, low moan, I decided that was enough. I smoothed my own hand over my head, brushing him away, and laid back again enjoying the hot, effervescent sensation of his blood now coursing through me. No wonder people get addicted to this stuff.

He'd turned away from me and as I stretched my arms and legs. I assumed he was making some adjustments of his own. I knew I was supposed to find him more tantalizing now, but my taking his blood had apparently raised a much more immediate response in that vein for him. I smirked. I felt myself feeling better with every breath I took. I held up my hand in front of my face. It seemed to be shimmering in the light.

"Do I look glow-y to you?" I flicked my wrist back and forth, mesmerized. Yeah, I was a little high.

"Glow-y?" He managed to sound like he was questioning both the word itself and my use of it.

I reached over and flicked off the light on my bedside table. Definitely glowing.

"Like you guys, just a little."

"You can see our glow," he stated.

"Sure," I agreed. Oh. Probably shouldn't have said that.

"And you saw a shed that was not there."

"Pardon?"

"Where Pam was held. I could not see it. Tray Dawson could not see it. He had to follow the feel of the magic to reach it. It took him a long time. And you could not be woken."

"Oh."

"What are you?"

"Human," I said softly. "Just a human with telepathy."

"No."

I forced myself to be calm. He got right in my face again, staring hard at me.

"You will tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

He stood back then. I'll admit that I was a little breathless.

"For now, I must go," he said, and moved toward my bedroom door. "I will come tomorrow night. We have more to discuss," he informed. Great.

"Um, alright."

"You will tell me," was the last thing he said, before he was gone.

Well. Thanks?