A/N: SVM is owned by Charlaine Harris. The beta for this story is the awesomely erudite FiniteAnarchy.

In the Last Chapter:

Despite injuries, Eric was able to get himself, Sookie, and Bill back to Shreveport. Unwilling to erase the evidence of her night of torture, Sookie refused Eric's healing and spent most of the weekend resting to aid her physical recovery.

Mintah wasn't pleased to learn of the role Splendide has played in vampire machinations and chastised Sookie for her involvement. Sookie didn't make up her mind about the new job, but Mintah ensured she was forced to tell Eric about the offer when he arrived to lead the eagles to the site of the rescue/battle.

Sookie went to see Bill to get some answers about what he knows of her and her family, confirming that he's the one who told Arkansas she is a part-fairy. Mintah and another of Ghellert's brothers interrupt the meeting, causing Sookie to leave in a hurry.

Chapter 36 – Prettier Vampires

"You were sleeping?" Eric asked, gesturing to the pillow and blanket I'd left on the couch when I answered the door. It was after two when he finally showed up. It was nice somehow, like he was returning home after long day at work.

"Off and on. How was it?"

"Solemn."

"There was something to recover then."

It had been two nights. Even if Ghellert's body wasn't desecrated by vampires from Arkansas who came to discover why none of their people returned home, it had still been exposed to the elements, other animals...

"Yes," Eric agreed. "Something."

I was grateful he didn't elaborate further.

Eric seemed almost weary as he moved to the couch and sat, which was strange in itself. He sees so much death, but I don't think he often deals with the aftermath in any context beyond "cleanup." Maybe that wasn't it at all, and he was simply dragging his feet about the serious talk we needed to have, or he was just frustrated to have missed another night at Fangtasia. Again, so nice to have the luxury of not knowing.

I curled up beside him, laying my head against his shoulder and my hand across his chest. He wrapped his arm around my back, cradling my head. His cool fingers on my scalp felt wonderful.

"How are your injuries?" he asked.

"Still sore, but improving."

"That's good."

"Do you feel the pain? Mine, I mean. With the blood?"

"I know that you are suffering, but I don't share the physical pain. Our bond is not that strong."

After a moment I asked, "Would you ever want it to be?"

When he didn't respond right away, I hurried on, "Sorry. You don't have to answer that."

"The idea is intriguing. It is something I have considered since the demon left you with the ritual knives. Forging that manner of bond is one of their uses," he explained. "I assume that is one of the reasons he gave those in particular to you, rather than me."

"What do you mean?"

"He does not wish you to have ties to any others. He means to take you for himself."

He sounded completely sincere, but I couldn't help chuckling. "Um, I don't think of Mintah in that way."

"That is not the manner of taking I was referring to, lover, but he does wish you for his own. He is a collector, and you are rare, if not unique."

"I like to think I have value as more than an oddity," I frowned.

"You do. All the more reason for him to desire you so strongly. He breeches all protocol."

"What do you mean?"

"You are mine," he said simply, and then charged on before I could interrupt him. "The particulars of our arrangement are between us, but it exists to be recognized by other supernatural beings. He refuses to do so."

I didn't think Mintah was being deliberately antagonistic, but it was true that he followed his own etiquette, and willfully disregarded everyone else's.

"I'm sorry," I sighed again.

Eric shifted me gently in his arms so he could see my face. He brushed a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

"Bill Compton suspects you are part-fairy," he informed me.

"I know," I nodded, and explained how. I could tell he wasn't particularly happy that I'd gone to see Bill, but he was interested in what I told him. You always hear that knowledge is power. It wouldn't have occurred to Eric to simply go and ask Bill for answers, not when doing so meant admitting he wasn't already aware.

"So he knows I have some fairy in me, but that's all he knows. I'm pretty sure he attributes any other weirdness he's picked up, to that."

"Perhaps an arrangement not unlike the one your sponsor made with me many months ago could suffice."

That wouldn't work, and as tactfully as I could, I explained why. Eric had always seen my telepathy as something to reserve for his own potential use. While he was loyal to the Queen, Eric's first priority was Eric. Bill couldn't afford to be that way. He was still dragging himself up the ranks, and offering him a bribe to stay quiet about my fairy connection would only serve to alert him that there was more to it than he yet knew.

There was also that persistent feeling in my gut which informed me that this might not be a problem, come the morning. Ghellert's brother had arrived at Bill's house with murder in his heart. He wanted vengeance and Bill Compton was the available target.

"We'll just... have to see what happens. I'm not going to worry about him anymore tonight."

I focused all my thoughts on warning Eric not to press for more, and he seemed to catch enough of that caution to know not to proceed.

"I am not sure whether to be thrilled or troubled that you can keep secrets from me," he finally said.

I knew the feeling.

"I'm sure you could make me talk if you were really determined," I said, with a hollow lightness in my voice.

I would fess up if he pushed, but otherwise, the least said the better.

"I meant what I said earlier. You would make a remarkable vampire."

I shook my head again, both in denial of his statement, and in relief that he was letting the other subject go. "It makes me very happy to hear that you would want me around forever. I know it's not an offer you make lightly, but that life is not for me, for so many reasons."

"Such as?"

"Most of the things I care about aren't things I'd be able to keep. I'm a simple person. I'd miss the sun; I'd miss the people I love. I fear I'd lose my only reprieve from this ability of mine. I'd miss just being alive. Feeling wonder and excitement and joy and... the whole range of human emotions that you vampires seem to deny yourselves."

"We are not without emotions."

"But you so rarely allow yourselves to experience them. You're always preoccupied with... I don't know. Survival, I'm guessing? In all its forms."

I hoped he understood what I was trying to say. He stroked my cheek and pressed a kiss to my forehead. It was reassuring.

"I do appreciate that you would offer that," I said again, and then a sudden wave of uncertainty rushed over me. "Is that a... deal breaker for you? That I don't want it?"

"No. Besides, you may change your mind." He managed to make it sound playful, whether he was serious or not. I found I was able to smile genuinely at him, though it broke when I yawned enormously. I mumbled an apology.

"It's late for you," he said, scooping me up before I could protest.

"I was hoping you'd stay until dawn," I said.

"I will stay," he agreed.

He set me down in my room and I undressed. It was still an awkward and painful business. I winced as I took off my sweater. The pain that radiated across my shoulder blades was enough that I decided not to bother with a nightshirt. I climbed in bed, but didn't pull the covers up. Instead I patted the mattress beside me until he got the hint. He kept his silk boxers on as he slid in beside me.

I wasn't so far gone to weariness that I could ignore the presence of my nearly naked vampire honey. I cuddled up to his cool body and started to rub my hand up and down his chest, dipping lower with each pass. He made a soft sound of pleasure but he didn't move to reciprocate. I glanced up at him, but he wasn't looking at me. I'd gotten used to the eye contact that seemed an essential component of sex for him, but he had his eyes closed, lying perfectly still.

It was at that point that I remembered how ugly I looked at the moment. My face was bruised, my hair was torn. Of course he wasn't feeling sexy. I turned away from him and bundled under the covers.

He turned too and I could feel him behind me, not really touching me. That didn't help my self-esteem either. I told myself it was temporary, trying not to feel hurt. He settled his hand on my upper arm.

"Where did you go?" he asked.

"It's fine Eric. You're right, I should get to sleep."

"You should. Bobby will be here by noon. He is bringing something for you, but I did not get the sense just then that you were ready to rest."

"I wasn't but... I don't expect you to make love with a battered woman."

"You think I do not wish to have sex with you? Because of your injuries?"

"Don't you?"

He looped his arm around my waist then, running a hand up my belly and between my breasts as he moved his body closer, pressing his hips against me. I could feel that I'd been wrong about him not being horny at least. I reached my hand back to brush the edge of his thigh as he kissed my shoulder.

"These marks," he said, letting his lips trail upwards across my neck and down my collar, "show that you are strong. Do not mistake the fact that I do not want to injure you, for my not desiring you."

"Do you mean that?"

"Look at me," he said, and I turned to face him. He cupped my cheeks in his hands. "Yes, I mean it. I will take what you are willing to offer and still want more. My desire for you, your body, your blood, your warmth, does not falter, but the pace is yours to set. I..."

He didn't have the chance to finish what he was saying before I pulled him down to kiss me. I wasn't inexperienced enough to think that Eric was the perfect boyfriend. He was charming only as means to an end. He could be possessive to the point to the point of being insulting, and pragmatic to the point of being insensitive. He wasn't sweet by any means. He was just right.

He didn't waste time lying to both of us by saying that even bruised, I looked beautiful to him. He was careful without coddling, letting me be broken, but not useless. True to his word, he let me lead. I ran my fingers through his hair, kissing passionately as I turned my lower body to a more favorable position, helping him out of his underwear in the process.

I nudged him back, climbing on top of him. The sensation of his cold chest and the soft graze of the hair there felt amazing on my breasts as I drew myself up to his mouth. I planted my hands at either side of his shoulders and dipped to do it again. I could already feel the sting in my arms, but in almost the same moment that registered, his hands clasped around my ribs, supporting my weight and guiding the motion.

This time when I pulled back to look at him he was watching me so intently that it made me shiver. I bent to kiss him again, keeping the smooth, wave-like motion going with rolls of my hips.

I kissed down his jaw and neck, letting my hands run across the sculpted muscles of his arms, then pulling back to trace up lightly with only my fingernails. He pressed his chest against mine as I did so with another low groan, so I think he liked the sensation as he held himself still. After another pass, I rocked back on my hips, so I was sitting over him, resting on his thighs. I smoothed my palm over his chest, dragging fingernails across his nipples, smiling as he responded with another low, rumbling sound, like the purring of a cat. His hips lurched up as I continued to let my splayed fingers slide down his abdomen.

He was very hard by then, his thickness pressed up against his belly. I inched my knees forward a bit before taking him in my hand. I couldn't really rub him this way; even uninjured me would have found the position awkward. Instead I held him gently where I wanted him and sat up a bit on my knees. I brought my fingers to my lower lips and risked a glanced at him. His eyes were locked on my hand. I might have felt embarrassed, but that lusty look emboldened me.

"Part them," he murmured, and I let my fingers spread my labia.

I rolled my hips again, gasping as the most intimate parts of me brushed against him. I moved again, rubbing myself against his length. I let out a sigh as hesitance shifted to a smooth and needful rhythm. I moved my hand to caress his tip, but that wasn't enough for him. He brushed me aside, urging me to touch my breasts. I looked down to see him stroking himself deftly, using the wetness I left behind, his knuckles occasionally brushing against me as I slid my sex against him. I cupped a hand over my breast, letting my fingertips swirl across the nipple, not pinching or teasing, just caressing. Only pleasure.

I felt the flush coming over me. I let my fingers close over my clitoris, circling wildly as feeling burst out and then instantly drew in again tightly, like the birth and collapse of an infinite universe.

I was panting when I came to my senses, and he was still watching me, his look no less penetrating.

"Kiss me," I demanded, and he did. I like to think the blood I tasted on his tongue was unintentional, as if he'd had to bite down on his cheek or tongue to keep his restraint. It wasn't more than a drop or two.

I didn't want him to go without, nor did I want to stop either. I shifted up and gently moved him to my entrance before sinking back down with a breathy moan. He was sitting up now, hands on my hips. I pulled mine around his shoulders.

"You have to help me," I breathed, as I started to move, and he complied, flexing his hips. The motion was punctuated with his grunting and the mumbling of foreign words that sounded like good things. I loved to hear his voice.

Eventually he brought his hands back down to the bed so he could push upward with more surety. He set a pace I couldn't match on my own, but which felt wonderful. I leaned back slightly, halting when I reached the angle that made me cried out involuntarily. I slid my fingers down again, twitching them over my slick nub. He was watching again.

"Faster," he grunted out. "Close."

I complied, and this time when the perfect moment came, I had him to hold on to. I felt his own shout of pleasure echo through my chest as I pressed it to his. We stayed as we were for a time, with me just breathing. The only change in his posture was that he pulled his arms around me again.

"I don't want to lose this." I whispered.

It was the exact wrong thing to say.

We were so close that the slightest bit he pulled away from me felt like a recoil.

"No," I said urgently, trying to pull him back. "Stay."

His arms settled around me once again, but the idyllic minute was over. I leaned back and kissed him and then eased myself back to lay down again. For the first time in a couple days the only lingering soreness I felt was the delightful kind between my legs. It should have been a blissful few moments before I drifted off to sleep contentedly, but instead of keeping the unpleasantness banished, I'd brought it right back to the foreground. He didn't lie down.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Why?"

"For ruining the moment." I ran my fingertips across his back, willing him to turn around.

"You should go."

My hand fell instantly. Had this turned into some kind of goodbye?

"Isn't that what I say at this time of night?" My voice was flat with the dreadful attempt at humor. There wasn't anything funny about this. He did finally turn to me, and the look on his face wasn't one I had seen before; more vacant than sad. Defeated?

"I want to keep you," he told me, his broad hand finding my hip, "but you were not wrong. There will always be things here that I cannot control."

"You're telling me to leave?"

"I am not so unselfish as to go that far. The most I can say is that you should."

I felt blood rushing to my face at the same moment my eyes began to sting. I was an inch away from bursting into tears, and forced myself to take several deep, stuttering breaths.

"Eric," I began, but my voice wasn't quite as sure as I wanted it. Another breath, and I tried again. "It's you. It's not Gran. She has Jason and now Hadley. It's this. As much as I want to see the world and do exciting work, I didn't think that I would get to have this ever in my life. It's not just because you're a vampire, or because I can't hear you. It's you. I... could love you. I don't want to lose that chance."

I'd been terrified to say it out loud, but as soon as I did I knew that I was right to do so. I had to say it, in the hopes that he would say it back. Even if he didn't, I had to know. I would be devastated, but at least then I could go and not look back. I never expected I would be able to have it all.

"I could love you," he finally said. The heavy stone in my stomach suddenly vanished, until I looked up into his eyes and it returned with doubled weight. "But it does not change the fact that you should go. Though I am loathe to admit it, the demon is nearly untouchable. You would be safer at his side."

"He has enemies too!" I argued.

"Who have been defeated for the time being. Mine, as you correctly pointed out, will continue to come. And yours, should you remain here, are far more likely to find you. Especially now that we cannot be certain how far these rumors have traveled."

I squeezed my eyes shut, biting my lip hard so hard that I could taste blood. He bent towards me, kissing it away. We didn't say any more. There just wasn't anything to say. He wrapped me in his arms, and true to his word, he stayed until dawn.

I woke the next day to Bobby Burnham's incessant knocking. I didn't even have to check; anyone else would have been polite enough to just leave. The mind out there with him had a familiar, smooth blankness. I hurried to pull on a pair of pants and a sweater, along with my slippers, regretting the fact that I hadn't showered.

Pulling open the door, I saw Octavia Fant wearing a vivid fuchsia pant suit and a turquoise shell. She looked irritated, though her expression softened somewhat when she saw me.

"Good morning," I said, mustering all the cheerfulness I could manage.

"Ms. Stackhouse," Bobby greeted. "This is Octavia Fant, acclaimed holistic healer. Mr. Northman has had her flown in from New Orleans for the day to offer you assistance in recovering from your accident."

A quick scan of his mind informed me that Bobby did indeed believe that I'd been in some kind of car accident. Eric must have glamoured him to forget bringing the clothes and blood here. I could see the logic in that. A side effect of removing that memory was the erasure of any compassion Bobby had felt for me, which was just as well. I preferred him predictable, if unlikeable.

"How have you been, Octavia?" I asked, greeting my guest and informing Bobby in one stroke that me and the 'acclaimed healer' were on first name terms.

"Just fine, child. Can't say the same for you. You look like you've been chewed up and spit out."

I gave a wry smile and opened the door a little wider, inviting her in. I could guess why she was here, and I couldn't be mad about it. I didn't think I'd be availing myself of her services, but it could be nice to just visit for a while. Bobby couldn't leave fast enough. He would return later in the afternoon to collect Octavia and take her back to the airport. This really was just a day trip.

"He's a piece of work," she commented, after Bobby had left to attend to the rest of Eric's errands.

"Oh, he's a real jerk," I agreed. "But, he's very devoted to his boss."

"You'd think he'd be a little nicer to his boss's woman then," she huffed. I smiled at that.

"I don't think he'd be nice to Oprah Winfrey if she was giving him a car," I quipped.

She tutted at that, and we shared another smile. Minding my manners, I offered Octavia something to eat and drink, which she accepted. She followed me into the kitchen while I put on the coffee, boiled water for tea, and then excused myself to wash up a little before returning to make a start on some soup and sandwiches for lunch.

"So," she commented as I worked. "I'm told you had a run in with the vampires after all."

"I did," I agreed. "And I'm betting Eric dragged you up here to fix me up since I refused his healing?"

"Just your hair."

"What?"

"I was told you didn't want any magical healing, but your hair will take months to grow in, and you'll still have to cut it."

"Just...my hair?" I could hear my voice quavering.

"I've brought some herbs that will speed the healing anyway," she went on. "Now that I see you, I'll brew you a cup of tea after we eat. It's not magic, it's medicine."

"He flew you up here just to fix my hair?"

It was the superficial problem that somehow made me feel the worst, but he found a way to solve it. No, it wasn't flowers and candy. It was much more than that. This was what I was supposed to walk away from for my own good? I hurried to turn away before the tears that threatened could fall. My emotions were still so close to the surface.

I collected myself and served her tea, asking what she had planned for the spell. Constant chatter was a distraction I needed just then.

Later, as we ate, I asked after Louis and her shop. We skirted very briefly over the topic of Waldo, with her assuring me that they'd had no further troubles 'after hours.' She told me about a promising new witch in her coven who showed great talent, but was overly enthusiastic about exposure to supes.

"I ought to take your photograph and bring it back as a cautionary tale," she remarked.

That put something of a damper on the amiable chit-chat. I'd thought I was looking better today.

"Some people have to learn the hard way," I said.

"Have you?" she asked pointedly.

Yes. No. I don't know.

"I'm going to be leaving," I told her, and again veered right into another subject. "Actually, it's kind of fortunate that I managed to see you now. I want to make arrangements to have the wards you did in Bon Temps renewed either annually, or semi-annually. Whatever you think will be necessary to maintain their efficacy."

The wards led to the topic of some research her coven had been doing on deterrents. They're a bit like stay-away spells, only they don't contain the element that actually physically repels. Instead, the strength of the spell is focused on the mental aversion. This makes them much more subtle, and far less detectable to anyone who doesn't specifically know to look for them.

I was happy to listen to her. Octavia's own mental shield had fallen away pretty quickly once she grew comfortable in my home. I could tell that she was extremely gratified to have an informed audience that nonetheless would not interrupt her as she spoke about magic. Evidently discussions of this sort among her own coven turned into her having to listen to many other people's opinions; something she did not particularly care for.

I certainly understood her desire to speak freely about her work. I tried to feel uplifted about the fact that I'd soon be entering a world where I could do just that, every day.

At some point in time we switched places, as I finished cleanup, and she took over the use of the kitchen. The tea she prepared was very bitter, with a strange smell that was simultaneously earthy, savory, and sharp like someone was cooking a roast chicken dinner in the middle of a pine forest. She had me hold my face over the steaming pot as it steeped, so I had quite a lot of time to contemplate the aroma. As I sipped, she began to lay out the less mundane herbs and sundry. There was a fresh egg, some clumpy white liquid that had separated like old ink, various plants and oils.

"I'll need your hairbrush," she informed me, without looking up from her mixing.

I grabbed it out of my bathroom, and was about to return to her before a second thought occurred to me. I took the silver hairbrush that Niall had given me for Christmas and brought it to Octavia.

"Will this work? I also have a regular one, but..."

She took it out of my hand before I finished speaking, inspected it, and then gave me a sharp look.

"No good?" I asked.

"It will do," she answered in a clipped voice. It was, after all, a seriously magical object.

The paste she spread across my scalp began to tingle immediately, like the top of my head was submerged in seltzer water. She was in the middle of doing her spell before I realized that she had begun. Her chanting was low and sonorous, and though I couldn't see her well, since she was standing over me, I knew she was sweeping her arms down and around my head in exaggerated brushing gestures, as though willing the hair to grow out.

Soon, she began to brush the surrounding hair, and I could see a faint bronze halo out of the corners of my eyes and reflected in the chrome surfaces around the kitchen. I began to feel incredibly tired, letting my eyes fall shut as she continued to sing.

"There now," she said with satisfaction, and my eyes flickered open.

"Is it done?" I asked, reaching up hesitantly.

"It's done. This worked well," she confirmed, handing me the silver brush.

"I think I fell asleep," I said.

"You may be tired," she agreed. "This isn't glamor magic. It's your real hair grown. I thought that would be best."

"It's wonderful," I said. My scalp was still a bit tender if I pressed on it, but other than that, it felt perfectly fine. That funky paste she'd put on it was notably absent as I ran my fingers through. I got up and went to the hall mirror. I was shocked. If anything, it looked even better than it had before.

"It's not the same as the flashy spells the girls use because they're too lazy to buy cosmetics. This won't wear off or need to be maintained." She sounded smug. I couldn't fault her.

"Thank you," I said earnestly. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"I'm glad I could help. I don't have much occasion to use the spell."

"You could put Rogaine out of business," I said, still marveling at the golden sway of my hair.

"I don't hold with vanity," she said sharply. "Not in magics, anyway," she said, brushing a miniscule dust mote from her bright lapel.

I helped myself to another cup of coffee as we returned to the kitchen and Octavia packed away her supplies into her magic bag. I'd no idea growing hair could be so wearying. We both agreed that it was best if Bobby didn't see what amounted to a pretty drastic change in my appearance in such a short time, so when he pulled up, she was quick to jog out and meet him. We'd be in contact about the wards, and I wished her a safe flight before she left.

Mintah's arrival in the early evening seemed almost irrelevant by that point. I agreed to come to Scotland. He was neither pleased, nor displeased. I asked that arrangements be made for a visit as soon as possible, so that I could meet with his clerk to discuss the particulars; all the necessary human concerns that were far below his interest, like my exact salary and vacation allotment. I'd actually need the days now. I'd also need to find a place to live, and a dozen other things that I expected would require help.

It wasn't going to be a short process, which almost made it worse. I'd just signed on to at least three months of long and drawn out goodbyes. Maybe I should put off telling Gran for a little while. Would she ever want to visit me? I'd buy her ticket.

Once he'd gotten what he came for, Mintah didn't stay very long at all.

"We'll see you at Splendide tomorrow, Sookie. There is a staff meeting scheduled for ten."

I nodded, "I'll be there," as I walked him to the door.

"Stay at home this evening, and continue your recuperation. I see the day has done you significant improvement. I would not wish to see that undone."

Before I could say anything more, he was gone, not exactly vanished, but shifting away at great speed as a shadowy blur. I saw the birds take off after him. How had they known to shift? I hoped he knew we'd need to use a car when I traveled with him.

Not that I had any other plans, but I took Mintah's direct order to heart. I had a wild night of doing laundry, changing my sex sheets, and playing with makeup to see how successfully I could conceal the rest of the bruising on my face. Not very well. I drank the rest of the chicken-lumberyard tea Octavia had left. It was actually better cold.

Eric did not stop by. I didn't expect him to. He'd missed a lot of work over the weekend, and of course, he had an invasion of Arkansas to help orchestrate. We hadn't broken up. I didn't really know what we were, except sad that circumstances couldn't be different. As far as what we'd do from here? Just try to enjoy each other while we could, I guess.

It was Brenda who led the meeting the following day, and the first announcement was my promotion. That was probably on purpose – no backing out now. To my surprise, Wilson Bellows made a casual inquiry about applying for my soon to be vacant position. I always thought he enjoyed the traveling he did.

I assumed Ghellert would be mentioned, but he wasn't. Instead, Brenda plodded on for another twenty minutes discussing ways for the brokers to increase commissions, such as urging people to sell more and expensive things, and buy same.

"I think the key is really in how you deliver the information," I commented.

Everyone turned to look at me, not just because I had interrupted Brenda, but because I had spoken at all. As a behind the scenes person, this stuff doesn't usually apply to me. When I have to sit through it, I do so silently. In fact, the only reasons I was here at all was because Mintah told me to be, and because Brenda hadn't excused me to my own work before going into her motivating manager routine.

"Um, what I mean is, people are buying prestige. The more knowledge you have, the better you can make something sound. The more you have to say about a specific object, or the general history surrounding it, the more important it will seem, and the more value attributed to it."

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Wilson chimed in, "That's a good point. Brenda, are we still doing tuition reimbursements for history courses at LSU or Centenary College?"

"Yes, that's on-going, though no one has submitted anything since last summer. Holly, why don't you call after this and see if we can't get some course catalogs over here. There should still be time if anyone wants to pick anything up for the Spring. Good idea, Sookie," she finished, with a nod at me.

When the meeting finally broke up, Brenda motioned for me to stay back.

"So, Edinburgh, huh?"

"It looks that way."

"Well, congratulations. Good luck keeping your tan over there," she smirked. My tan was pretty nonexistent at that point, considering it was still the middle of winter.

"I'm sure they've got salons," I shrugged.

"Is that where you were yesterday? Your hair looks great, by the way."

I peeked into her brain to determine if this was sarcasm. Another small perk to being a telepath; I can check to see if someone is being serious. She was.

"No, I was home resting. Do you not know what happened Friday?" I asked carefully. Surely her family would have been called to duty, if Colonel Flood had gotten involved.

"I heard something about the Arkansas vamps coming here," she said quietly. "But nothing came of it."

"Yeah, they cleared out pretty quickly. Most of the action happened inside of Arkansas."

"Good," she agreed.

"Yeah," I answered vaguely.

"Listen, do you know what Management is planning for the Shreveport office?" she asked me.

"He hasn't spoken to you?"

"He told me about Ghellert, and about you. The thing is, Don and some of the guys got wind of it, and a lot of people are getting nervous that the branch will close. They see a lot of staff leaving and not getting replaced right away, you know?"

"I haven't heard of any formal plans to close, so you can pass that along if my word is good for anything. As far as I know, the most that's being considered is going human-only, which is business as usual to Don and whoever else."

"Do you know what time Management is coming today?"

"I only know that he said he'd be here. Just ask him what's in the works. His staff deserves a concrete answer. He's not going to bite your head off."

"You sure about that?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm pretty sure he's met his quote for the week," I said darkly. "Anyway, sorry for interrupting you earlier."

"No, it's fine. Like I said, people are starting to get a little nervous, so talking about long-term things like reimbursement for courses they haven't taken yet is a good thing. Eases minds. Listen, I have some things on my plate this morning, so I'll pop down at lunchtime?"

"Sounds fine," I agreed.

Unfortunately lunch did not work out. When she was ready to go, I was still waiting for a sample of one of the Ireland pieces to come out of the cooker. When I was ready, Mintah had just arrived and they were closed up in her office.

I had lunch in the break room with Don Callaway, who did ask me himself if I knew anything about the branch closing, and didn't believe me when I told him no, despite letting the subject drop.

Pam was talking with Thalia outside when I left work in the evening. Her eyes scoured me immediately, searching for signs of my injuries, I assumed.

"Hey Pam. I guess it's safe for us to be on the same street again?"

"At the moment," she answered coolly. "You look better than I expected. How are you doing?"

"I could probably use some more aspirin, but glad to be back at work."

Obviously she was through with the palaver, Pam continued, "We need to talk."

"Sure," I agreed. "Want to follow me to my house?"

"No, I'll drive," she said.

She was already moving at a brisk pace towards the parking lot. I nodded goodbye to Thalia and hurried to catch up. I buckled in to Pam's rental car and she wasted no time in getting it started.

"Where are we headed?" I asked, as she turned the car on to the road.

"Eric's."

A/N:I imagine some of you are ticked off with me at the moment. Feel free to vent, ye of little faith. ;)

Just a heads up... If this were a book, you would be noticing about now that the number of pages left to read is dwindling.