A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. Today's story is brought to you by the letter V, the number 1, and the beta FiniteAnarchy (who is stupendous).

Chapter 14 - A Vampire for Each Wind That Blows

I awoke with a groan. I'd gone to bed with wet hair; too weary to bother with the drier, but too unwilling to leave a square inch of me unwashed after the night before. I was soaking wet now. It was not the refreshing dampness of having just bathed, either, but the disgusting clamminess of a cold sweat. I stumbled from my bed, lurching toward the bathroom. I palmed at the door handle, realizing with sudden alarm that my fingers were numb. I shook my hands, using one to press the fingers of the other around the handle until I made it turn. I was already headed to my knees so I managed to aim myself in the direction of the toilet. I hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before so there was nothing to throw up. My body wasn't convinced of that, and I hunched, heaving dryly for a long while. How is it possible to wake up feeling more wrecked than before you went to sleep?

I crawled into my bathtub. Yes, crawled. It was a fight getting out of the damned flannel nightdress, one I almost gave up. It was only the thought of how much worse it would be trying to get out of it wet that forced me to rid myself of the thing. I turned the water on as hot as I could bear it and I slumped back against the wall, letting it hit my legs and my belly. There was no hope of standing up. My shoulders and back quickly rebelled against the cold tile wall. I inched forward, shivering under the hot spray. I stayed like that until the hot water ran out. It was a frantic scramble to push the taps off once I realized that was coming. I lay there huddled for a time. I fell back to sleep for a few minutes.

I awoke shivering and struggled to lift myself. I felt so weak. My old robe, shabby but warm, hung on the back of the door. I got into it. I fastened a towel over my head like a turban but it was painfully tight. I loosened it, and it wouldn't stay in place. I whimpered in frustration. I dried my hair as best I could with the towel then glared at the wide-toothed comb that sat on my counter. It took an agonizing half hour to work through the nest of tangles I'd created, but by the end, it was almost dry, as was the rest of me.

Compared to the steamy bathroom the rest of my house was an icebox. I dressed as quickly as I was able in sweat pants and a sweat shirt and two pairs of socks. The thermostat said it was seventy-five degrees in the house. On top of everything else, that was malfunctioning too. I turned it up to eighty-five. I wanted to get back into bed but my bed was disgusting and still damp, not to mention smelly, with sweat. I pulled the sheets off and dragged the whole pile of my bedding down the hall towards the laundry closet, but suddenly it felt like too much effort. I just left everything in a pile on the kitchen floor.

I drank three glasses of lukewarm water. I got fresh sheets out of the linen closet. My phone was making its annoying, intermittent crying to let me know that I had missed calls. Cataliades, Splendide. I pushed the button that would connect me to Niall.

"It's Sookie again," I said. I registered how weak my voice sounded. "I'm sick. Please tell him it's urgent."

"I'll give him the message."

"Tha-"

I'd almost broken a cardinal rule in my stupor. I hung up on the fairy answering service. I called Splendide.

"Good morning, Splendide International, Shreveport. My name is Holly. How can I help you?"

"Holly?" I croaked.

"Yes, this is Holly speaking, how can I help you?" She sounded slightly uncertain.

"It's Sookie. I can't come in today. Tell Brenda okay?"

"Sookie?"

"I'm really sick. I don't know what is wrong with me."

"There's a mandatory staff meeting at three..."

"I won't be in," I said. "Tell Brenda please."

"Okay, I'll tell her," Holly told me.

"Thanks Holly," I mumbled, hanging up.

I couldn't remember ever feeling like this. I was sure I was going to die. I have heard people say this when they're sick with the flu, but the fairy component in my blood had almost always protected me from these kinds of human maladies. I hadn't been sick since I was very young. It was one of the few things about the supernatural part of me that I understood, and could be grateful for. I had collapsed on the couch beside the table upon which I'd thrown my keys the night before. I pulled my afghan around me feeling cold and alone and suddenly I thought of one thing that could help me. I was still clutching my phone, so I pushed and held the "1" on the number pad.

"Hello?"

"Gran? It's Sookie," I said feebly.

"Sookie, honey, what's wrong?"

"I'm real sick," I told her. "Gran? Do you think you could, would it be too much to ask for you to come here? If you're not busy?"

"I'll leave right now," she said, immediately. "Hold tight, honey."

The best part, was that she didn't sound panicked, just decided.

Gran doesn't visit me very often. When she does, it's almost always in the company of Jason, with him driving. It's not because she doesn't like to, but it is quite a long trip for her these days. In her normal course, she doesn't have to travel any farther from Bon Temps than Ruston, and only occasionally that, to do her shopping. I should have felt guilty for asking her to come. I was a grown woman. I should be able to take care of myself. Instead of truly feeling guilty, I only felt relieved.

An hour and fifteen minutes later she let herself in the front door. She has my spare set of keys at her house, of course. Like I would leave them with Jason.

I heard her clicking her tongue as she peered in the kitchen to see the mess I'd left with the bedsheets.

"Sookie?" she called out.

"In here," I said weakly. I flapped my arm out in some attempt at a wave, not like she could see it.

When she did see me, I saw her eyes go wide for a moment before she set her mouth in a rigid line and got down to the business of tending to me. The first order of business was apparently re-situating me on the couch. She took both my arms and pulled me up and spread one blanket out for me to lay on and then pulled the second one down to cover me. Then she left and returned with two of my pillows. She stripped the cases off and redressed them from the linens I'd toted in here, then lifted my shoulders and stuffed them under me. Once I was satisfactorily tucked in, she stood over me with her hands at her hips.

"What happened on your face, baby?"

Oh. I guess that promised bruise had bloomed. I hadn't yet managed to check a mirror.

"My cheek got hit. It looks worse than it feels I'm sure. That's not the trouble."

She rubbed her hands together and then pressed her palm to my forehead. I winced as she did so. Her hands were ice cold.

"You're running a fever," she informed me. I nodded weakly.

"When's the last time you ate some real food?" she asked.

Real food? Probably Sunday, at your house, or the leftovers with Mr. C when I got home.

"Yesterday morning," I answered.

There was more disapproving clicking.

"How long have you been like this?" she asked.

"I was fine last night... A few days ago, I was sick. I fainted, twice. It was a day or two coming on, but I also was not getting enough sleep, and then, I..." I trailed off.

'Then I drank the blood of a thousand year old vampire and felt terrific. Incidentally, that's why I looked so great when you saw me a couple days ago,' was the true answer, but it wasn't the one I wanted to give. I also didn't want to lie to her.

"Then, um. Well, then I felt better for a couple of days, but then this morning I woke up and felt like death."

"There are holes in that story young lady, but we'll get back to that in a little while. I'm going to go clean up and fix a lunch. You stay here."

Like I was going anywhere.

I nodded my compliance.

She flipped on the television and brought the volume down very low.

"Try to get some sleep," she ordered.

"Yes ma'am," I said meekly.

She walked around the room closing all the blinds and drawing all the curtains. I did sleep. I woke up a couple of hours later when my bladder demanded it. My house smelled like clean laundry and pot roast. I struggled to my feet and made it halfway to the bathroom before I slumped against the wall. Gran appeared at my side and guided me silently into the front bathroom. She waited outside while I peed. When I'd finished, she brought me out and sat me down at the kitchen table. I pressed my uninjured cheek against the cool table, watching from that awkward position as she worked busily in front of the stove.

"Your phone's been ringing," she informed me.

"I called work," I said helplessly.

"It came up as Splendide three times, and once as Brenda, and once as Mr. Cataliades."

"If it rings again, just answer and say I'm sick."

"Alright."

I closed my eyes and just listened to her bustle back and forth, opening the refrigerator and various cabinets, stirring, flipping. I had no idea what she was making. I could register that it smelled nice, but it was totally unappetizing. A few minutes later, she was standing over me, nudging my elbows off the table.

"Sit up," she ordered, and I did so.

She set a grilled cheese sandwich and a small bowl of what I knew to be Campbell's Tomato Soup down in front of me. I made myself eat almost half the sandwich, dunking it in the soup.

Gran woke me up on the bathroom floor where I'd passed out after having thrown up my lunch. She cleaned my face like I was a child and brought me mouthwash to rinse and spit. She brought me back to the couch so she could sit with me while I slept.

"Have you called Mr. Brigant?" She sounded stiff as she asked.

I must have her really worried. We don't talk about Niall much. When we do, she certainly doesn't refer to him as my great grandfather. His presence in my life was a reminder of her shame. That wasn't something we had ever spoken about in blunt terms, but she could hardly hide her feelings from me. I wished she could.

"I left an urgent message this morning. Third call this week. Something is wrong."

She huffed.

"That's for sure. I'm calling the doctor."

"Gran, I..."

"I'm calling the doctor," she said again, firmly.

I stayed silent, mentally cringing as I heard her thoughts. I couldn't really help it. My shields were practically nonexistent at that point. Maintaining them is a constant effort that I just didn't have the energy to expend. She'd been given a contact by Mr. Cataliades, in the case of a true emergency.

That wasn't the part that bothered me, really.

Now and then, on these rare occasions that my otherness came to the fore, I'd pick up on these sorts of thoughts in her. Little things that she knew. When things that should have surprised her, didn't. Memories of the stories Fintan, the half-fairy who had been her lover and the father of her children, had told her. These remembrances had an ethereal quality in her mind, like whispers in a dream. He hadn't told her all of everything, but he'd told her plenty. It was only in rare moments like these that she allowed any of it to be real.

There was a touch of bitterness along with her great sorrow.

It hadn't been all that long ago that my Aunt Linda had died. I'd been away at school. Jason had been little help to her. Our cousin Hadley, Linda's daughter, was long gone by then. Gran had watched Linda wither and die, more or less on her own. It had not been easy for her. She had nursed, and comforted, and prayed, but in the end, none of it was enough.

Deep below all of that loss was the tiny part of her, a very real and human part, that resented the fact that our fairy kin had not done more for Linda. Had not done anything at all, actually.

Linda did not have the spark, just as Jason and our father and Hadley did not have it. Only me, in our line. It was what made me special, in Niall's eyes. Worthy of acknowledging. Worthy of his protection and love. It was an indefinable thing, really. What it boiled down to was the fact that I had a place of my own in the other world, while the rest of my family did not.

Niall said it shouldn't have happened. Linda's cancer. He'd blamed the iron and the toxins in the world for weakening her, for leaving her susceptible.

When Gran looked at me, I could feel her disquiet. She was seeing me, and I looked terrible in her mind's eye. She was also seeing her daughter, on the worst days of treatment. Before, there had been nothing more that she could do.

So my Aunt Linda had stayed sick, and died.

But I had a lifeline.

I said nothing as she looked up the number. She had to put on the lamp so she could see. It was late in the afternoon, by now, and the shades did an adequate job of keeping out the waning sunlight.

She'd brought her old phone book along with her. Such things are all computerized these days, but Gran was an old dog and computers were a new trick. She'd never owned one, and never would. Instead, there was the small binder, about half the size of a standard piece of paper and two inches thick. There were dozens of smaller pieces of paper, business cards, and the ripped corners of envelopes tucked in to it. It was patterned on the front with fades flowers. The book normally resided in the writing table that sat in the corner of her living room. It was an object that, as children, Jason and I had never been allowed to touch, nor even look at. It was a complete record of my grandmother's entire lifelong acquaintanceship. Somehow its presence in her hand seemed ominous.

"Dr. Amy Ludwig," she read aloud, locating the entry she'd searched for.

She reached out for my phone, and I handed it over. She put the volume way up for her own benefit, but it meant that sitting this close, I could hear almost everything too.

There was a long talking message once the call connected, and Gran listened patiently, in case the automated voice gave instruction for which number to dial to connect her call. Eventually, we heard, "Hello?"

"Doctor Ludwig?" Gran inquired.

"Speaking. What do you want?"

"Good afternoon, this is Adele Stackhouse calling on behalf of my granddaughter," Gran began.

"...Not accepting new patients," I heard the voice retort.

"My granddaughter is Sookie Stackhouse, granddaughter of Fintan Brigant. She is sponsored by Desmond Cataliades."

She recited that information in a cool, dispassionate voice, as if she'd been instructed to do so. She probably had been, when given the number. I knew it cost her to say those things out loud.

"What's wrong with her?" the little voice barked.

"She is ill. Sweating and feverish, though she claims she is freezing. She comes and goes from consciousness, all day long. She said she woke up this way," Gran recited. "Her skin is greyish. She cannot keep any food down, though she hadn't eaten properly in over twenty-four hours. She needs healing."

The last word too, as one that plainly Gran has been instructed to use. Not "medical attention." I needed healing.

"Can she travel?"

"I should say not." Gran was showing a little of her own pique at the doctor's brusque tone.

"Where is she now?"

Gran recited my address.

"I'll come soon. Try to keep her conscious."

Gran huffed again. Evidently the doctor had hung up on her. She got up and went to the kitchen and returned with a small glass of orange juice, and helped me into a sitting position, bidding me to try to take a couple of small swallows. I managed, and felt my throat first burn, and then be soothed.

"I think you better tell me how this started," Gran admonished.

So I did, at least in parts.

"Then," I began. I was short of breath, and my anxiety was up, but I continued on in my confession. I'd have to repeat all this to the healer when she arrived, and I wouldn't do my grandmother the discourtesy of having that be the first she heard this news.

"The guy I was helping out with my telepathy, he was, he is, a vampire... and he had offered to heal me before but I said no, but after I fainted again in the kitchen on Saturday, he offered again and I took him up on it, so, he gave me some of his blood. And when I woke up Sunday all my cuts and scrapes were healed and I felt better. I've had this chill again the last day or so, but not until this morning was it this bad. I was out last night and I was fine..."

She let out a long sigh. To my infinite relief, she wasn't angry, or even disappointed. She was just completely out of her depth. She had no idea what to make of it all.

At Dr. Ludwig's order, Gran sat back in a chair out of the way as she examined me. She did the normal things like check my pulse and breathing and blood pressure, but the examination seemed mostly to consist of her smelling me and licking my skin, and at one point, pricking my arm and tasting my blood. That was when Gran saw the fang marks Eric had left the night before.

Dr. Ludwig is not human. She might pass for a human with dwarfism, but her proportions aren't exactly right. Maybe a pygmy? To me, she looked like a hobbit. Her brain felt like nothing else I'd encountered, which wasn't saying much. It's a big world out there. Her saving grace, at least as far as Gran was concerned, was that she did look the part of a doctor, if an old-fashioned one. She wore a white coat, black pants, and unfashionable white shoes with Velcro closures.

My phone rang then, and Gran stirred from watching the doctor work over me to answer it.

"Hold on, Miss Hesterman," I heard Gran say. "Sookie, I'm going to talk to your boss for a moment."

Abruptly I felt hard patting on the side of my face.

"Stay with me now. I need you awake," the doctor admonished.

I nodded, without being completely aware of where she was in the room at that point. I thought maybe she was grateful for a reprieve from some of the weirdness.

"When was the last time you ingested vampire blood?" she asked.

"S-Saturday. I've only had it once," I said.

"You've been poisoned," she informed me. "And it's not one I'm familiar with. Normally I would bring you to the hospital, but I am not sure that's wise."

"No," I agreed. "The fae, we don't... I can't be seen anywhere as being more than human," I pled.

She grunted.

"I need to get some additional supplies, possibly even blood, for a transfusion. Don't even think of balking."

"No ma'am."

"And we need to get you into a proper bed," she said.

I tried, and failed, to stand. I felt so weak. I was fading in and out again.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to call on Sookie another night." That was Gran.

"Let me pass, woman."

"I'm sorry young man, but the answer is no."

Why was Gran using her stern voice? Suddenly she was back in the room with us.

"There's a young man outside and he refuses to leave," she announced.

"Good, bring him in, he can carry her," Ludwig announced.

Suddenly I felt myself being lifted and I looked up into Eric's face and groaned.

"Stupid vampire. Now get out of the way," came Ludwig's voice. "Why nobody thought to call me days ago, I'll never know. Does your blood cure poison now? No? Fool!"

She was working over me, but I was practically too gone to care by that point. I don't know if Eric responded to her recriminations. I felt Gran beside me, momentarily, but she was shooed out of the way by the doctor too. That was when I started to seize. I couldn't tell you what happened after that.

I was almost surprised to wake up. Gran was hunched beside the bed in one of the chairs from my living room. She stirred as I did.

"Sookie," she said softly. Her cool hand was wrapped around my fingers and she gave me a gentle squeeze before releasing me. "Careful now," she warned.

"What happened?" I asked. My voice was a hoarse whisper. Gran had a glass of water on my bedside table and she helped lift it to my mouth, tipping so I could take a swallow.

"Your body went into shock, the doctor said."

"Am I going to be okay?" I whispered.

Gran responded by breaking down into tears and folding herself over my lap. I could tell from her head though, that her predominant emotions were relief and gratitude.

"The doctor's going to be back today to check on you," she told me, once she subsided.

"Was there a vampire here?" I asked, half-wondering if I'd imagined it, half-hoping that I had.

"Yes," Gran said, and I felt her stiffen.

"Can we talk about that later?" I asked.

"Yes, honey."

"You should get some sleep, Gran," I said.

"I will, Sookie," she assured me.

When I woke the next time, it was to my great grandfather's face. He was smiling down at me happily.

"There you are," he said in his sweet, slow voice, speaking every word so carefully. "You gave us quite a fright."

Niall is very beautiful. His lovely pale face was crinkled with joy. It's almost impossible for me not to feel pleased in his presence, and this was no exception. Despite that though, I felt a little nervous.

"Where's Gran?" I asked.

"She is resting," he told me.

"Where... where have you been? I have been trying to reach you."

"I am sorry that I could not come to you sooner. There has been some...turmoil...in our world of late. Now, there is a new prince of the water clan, and it would not have been safe for me to come to you before. But it seems that I have come in time."

"Am I dying?" I asked, though even as I did, I knew I wasn't. I could feel that I was healing. Just being near him was blessed succor to my ailments.

"No. The poison in your blood is an old one, but a known one. To us," he clarified. "As is the antidote. Tell me how you were attacked."

I didn't know quite where to begin, but off I babbled; telling him about the demons attacking in the vault, and here at the house, then finally about the hellhounds, and the fight at Mr. Herbahz's house.

"That is very interesting, and I am glad that you were able to defeat your demon enemies, but I meant to ask you when you were attacked by fairies."

"By a fairy?" I asked, confusedly. "I haven't been."

"But the poison in your blood was one of ours," he said. Even as he frowned, he was radiant. "It would have killed a fairy, but you survived long enough to be cured."

He bent and kissed my forehead then, and I felt that he was truly pleased about that; about my survival.

"I haven't been attacked by any fae," I said again.

"Hmmm," he said, with elegant noncommittal. "But you have also been attacked by a vampire," he said, brushing his fingers across my arm.

"Not...exactly. This is from Eric Northman. He nearly lost an arm fighting with Mintah and I... offered him some blood, so he could heal."

That too, required some explaining. I went back a whole week.

"You took his blood to heal your wounds," he said, skeptically. "You fed him willingly?"

"Yes," I said.

"Blood of my blood, it is dangerous to trust a vampire."

"I know."

"This one is not as bad as some."

"You know him?"

"I have known him for a long time," he said. "The lawyer has secured his silence in the matter of your abilities, but it would seem it is only a matter of time before there is even more to protect."

"Yes," I agreed.

"Do you wish me to end this problem now?" he asked.

I knew what he was asking. I shivered, for the first time in days, not because I felt cold. I didn't have an answer. Did I want him to kill Eric? And Pam too, I realized.

"No," I said. "I think that we have an understanding, for now."

"I grow more afraid that I will not be able to protect you," he said, sounding almost sad. I wasn't sure if he meant from the vampires, or the fairies, or what. Probably everything.

"Then it wouldn't hurt to have some extra allies," I hazarded. Could I call Eric an ally? I didn't know. After the last couple of days, I'd decided I didn't want to call him an enemy though.

He gave that some consideration, and finally nodded.

My great grandfather then smoothed his hand across my brow and then asked me to tell him about the interesting things I'd seen at work lately. This was a conversation we had often. I would tell him about what I'd seen, and he would tell me what he knew about the objects, or any stories, really, that came to mind.

When I had first met Niall, it was somewhat difficult for us to find common ground to talk about. He would listen with bemused indifference when I discussed mundane human things. His side of it all was usually stories about our family - the fairy side, of course. The discussion of objects and artifacts was far less one-sided. It was nice, to be able to talk.

"We had some great obsidian arrowheads last week, all mixed in with regular stone ones, found right around here. Can you just imagine some hunter coming across the elves standing over their kill?" I nearly smiled. I was still weak.

"You found elf-shot?" he asked.

I nodded. "I switched it out for flint. I think they're still at Splendide. They weren't even taken during the robbery."

"Is this where you got the cut on your finger?" he asked. I'd only told him that I had a cut, that had gotten infected – oh. Oh.

"Poisoned arrowheads?" I asked hesitantly.

He nodded.

"But they were so old! Eight hundred years, and the poison is still intact?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Perhaps this is part of the reason why you were affected so mildly," he said, with a delicate shrug of his shoulders.

I didn't object to his choice of words. I accepted the fact that compared to being dead, my reaction had been "mild."

"And this explains the wound you described," he went on. "Normally the body will act to try to isolate the poison, until it can be expelled."

I sighed. Blood blister. Poison blister, I guess.

"It did... but I think the poison was still making me feel ill. Then, when Eric healed me, it healed the blister, too..."

"And the poison was released into your system, where it has run its course for some nights," Niall agreed. "Great granddaughter, even some of our healers will use the blood of the vampire to mend grievous wounds, but you must be very cautious with it."

I nodded.

"Our methods are far more suitable," he continued. "Will you permit me?" he asked.

Before I could answer though, he hovered above my face. His mouth parted just over mine, very close, but not touching, and he breathed out. I inhaled. I felt more hale with every breath. As a human, I find this extremely bizarre. Every thought rebels against being within such intimate range of a great grandparent for an extended time. For the fairies, this gesture conveys the gift of well-being, healing both body and mind. I wouldn't refuse. It was a strange custom, to me, but I could not deny that I enjoyed the results.

"Dearest child, I am afraid that I must go for now. I will check in on you again soon, and should you need me, I will not be out of touch again, I hope."

"I'm grateful, great grandfather," I said. "Will you visit me for Christmas?" I asked.

"Yes, I will visit," he agreed.

I smiled. He vanished.

Very tentatively, I lifted myself from the bed and moved towards the bathroom. I was anticipating more pain and weakness, but I felt, at worst, run down. I checked my clock and saw that it was midmorning. I washed up a little bit, and changed my clothes. I still had the shadow of a bruise on my cheek, but it looked many days old, rather than fresh. I could probably conceal it with some makeup, were I so inclined. I wasn't though. I changed my clothes, putting on only a different pair of sweatpants and an LSU sweatshirt, fresh socks and underwear, and a tank top. No bra. I was not going anywhere today. I meant it.

Gran was asleep in the front bedroom, making it probably the third time it had been used, both ever and by her, since I'd moved in here. I have a daybed and a bookcase in there, a little table, and a lamp. Sometimes I read in there. The sun comes in nicely in the afternoons, but normally I don't go in there. It's just extra space.

I poured myself a small glass of juice and drank it with caution, waiting to see if my body would reject it. I was fine. I didn't bother making coffee, though. I didn't want to push my luck. I called Brenda.

"Brenda Hesterman," she answered.

"Sookie Stackhouse," I replied softly.

"Sookie! Are you okay?"

"I think I will be, but I won't be in today. I need to rest."

"I talked to Adele yesterday, she was out of her mind with worry."

"I saw Dr. Ludwig, and Niall came."

"What was wrong?"

"Poison, I guess. Actually, listen, do you remember those obsidian arrowheads from last week? We think it might have been them. I'm not sure if it would affect others the way it would um, people from my family, but you might want to put them up somewhere very safe, okay?"

"Sure. Listen, Upper Management had a meeting yesterday, about what we need to know regarding the police investigation..."

"Can you brief me properly a bit later? I don't plan on talking to the police, and if for some reason they talk to me, well, I've been sick, and as far as I know, nothing's happened in the last couple of days."

"Alright. That's more or less what we're going with anyway...but we are just going to resume normal business. Technically we are open today, but it's mostly client reassurance day. I'll see you Monday?"

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Okay, feel better Sookie."

"Thanks, Bren, take care."

Gran was stirring as I hung up with Brenda. I found I was actually a bit nervous to see her, but when she came out to the kitchen she simply hugged me tightly. It went on through and beyond that awkward point where a hug would end, and still she clutched me to her, expressing with that gesture the profundity of her love and affection for me, and her deep relief that I was well. I could only hug her back, for as long as she needed.

When that moment ended, she made me breakfast, and when breakfast was over, she took a rather enormous pot of beef stew out of my refrigerator and set it on the stove on warm heat. Then, we watched two of Eric's Viking documentaries, back to back.

"That young man is very handsome," she commented. We hadn't said a whole lot that morning; well, it was a bit after noon, by then.

"He's neither young, nor a man, but yes, I suppose he is handsome." I said.

"I bet he's interesting to talk to," she said.

"We haven't had a lot of chance to just sit and chat."

"He was very concerned for you last night."

"How long did he stay?"

"Not long. The doctor sent him away."

"I suppose that means he'll be back tonight," I said. Maybe sighed.

"Is he courting you?" she asked.

I snorted.

"He knows about my ability," I said.

"And what does he say about that?" she asked.

I made another very unladylike sound of derision, but when I looked at her it was plain on her face that she actually expected an answer.

"He's being paid by Niall and Mr. Cataliades not to tell the other vampires about me."

Because that had been my entire mental refrain on the subject of Eric since Niall had brought it up earlier.

"I see," she said.

"He's interested, he's kind of made that clear, but as to why? Well, I think it's just that he wants my favor, so I'll help him sometimes."

It was Gran's turn to tut.

"What?" I asked.

"I would think you had heard enough of men's minds to know that there ain't a one of them who don't want something from a woman."

"So?" I asked. She was right. Generally, it was sex. Sometimes money. Sometimes a mother for his children. Someone to cook for him. Someone to keep him company.

She didn't answer. Instead, she got up and stirred the stew, then put on the next DVD. She woke me up when it was over.

"If you sleep all day, you'll be up all night," she chided, handing me a small bowl of stew. It was heavenly.

After lunch, I dozed again while Gran watched "her stories," the melodramatic soap operas which she found preferable to the daytime talk shows. As we did so, she did more of my laundry, washing my sheets again, and the towels from my bathroom, the guest bathroom, the ones she'd slept on last night, the kitchen towels. Then she did my clothes. I tried to tell her that it was unnecessary, and she'd already done so much, but she wouldn't hear it. She said she enjoyed having the folding to keep her hands busy as she watched.

Ludwig came and went, cursing Niall and Eric for idiocy and cretinism, but seeming satisfied with the state of my health. She warned me to call her first if I should relapse a second time. With my permission, she took a small phial of my blood with her when she left, so that she might try to determine the cure for herself, for any future patients. Niall had not left a sample of the antidote.

It was hardly the same, really; what Gran had said about men wanting things from women. And she knew that it was always my fear - being used for my telepathy. Yes, he'd been fairly clear about the fact that he also wanted my body, and probably my blood. As far as he was concerned, I was quite the little package, I bet. Not that he wasn't. Being able to relax my mind around him was quite nice. Feeling desired without hearing the filthy thoughts that generally accompanied that was nice, too, even though the way he'd showed it had been more than a little terrifying at times.

His ability and willingness to kill things in defense of me was very good. I bristled when I had to admit that, but I could hardly deny that it was a fact about him that belonged in his "pro" column.

He was great at kissing, which boded well for other activities in that arena.

It still wasn't enough to make up for the fact that his trust had to be purchased, or otherwise bartered for.

He arrived not long after first dark.

I listened as Gran answered the door.

"Good evening Mrs. Stackhouse. I have come to see if Sookie is feeling better."

"She is," Gran answered.

"May I see her?" he asked, after a long pause. I permitted myself a smile.

"I'll see if she is up for visitors," Gran said, and then she closed the door on him.

Love you, Gran.

She retreated the few paces across the foyer and peeked around the wall, her expression questioning. I nodded to her. I combed my fingers haphazardly through my hair, not that it would do much good. Well, he'd seen me worse.

Gran let him in and a few moments later he was standing at the entry to my living room. His nostrils flared and I heard him inhale sharply just an instant before his fangs ran out.

Because my entire house reeked of fairy.