A/N: Thank you, kind souls, for following along and encouraging this experimentation! Wishing you the happiest new year…

Chapter 13

It was late afternoon, the sun hanging red in the sky, and I sat at the base of Gran's gravestone, mindlessly shredding the grass. More often than not I talked to her or asked her questions—as she would say, sometimes you need to speak to someone else just to hear your own thoughts. In a way, talking to her there was much the same as it was before. At the moment, though, I was too aware of the emptiness.

Even before Gran died, I liked to come to the graveyard to think. In Bon Temps, people rarely visited the dead. I suppose the silence bothered them, but I found it comforting.

The idea of death had more nuances now than it had a year ago. More than it had a week ago, really. Dating Eric made it feel both optional and somewhat…casual. I had to remind myself of its reality so I didn't fall into an alternate moral dimension where human death was no longer sacred. I sighed. Didn't most new couples have to worry about changing things like friend groups or tastes in music? Shifting one's views on the entire concept of mortality seemed extreme…

I decided to review the practical aspects of the situation. Eric's explanation of the attack didn't reveal much more than Pam had already speculated. It seemed clear the witches were planted there to trap him, but he didn't know by whom; he was hesitant to involve his superiors until he knew they weren't involved. Eric was disturbed about his lack of control in the event, not because he regretted the killing but because it suggested he was not beyond manipulation. That bothered me even though I understood it. In his estimation, witches had never been a powerful force before. Still, I wished he had more remorse for the act on its own.

Eric was far less disturbed by his behavior toward me. In fact, his ability to resist killing me in the moment seemed to bolster his confidence. The secret was out; as of two evenings ago, I knew that he loved me and sometimes wanted to kill me. It seemed a weird reveal to be happy about, and yet he was. While he was sensitive to the fact that I found his forceful feelings somewhat disturbing (though unapologetic when I confronted him about keeping them from me), it did little to calm me. It made me want to embrace him with everything I had as well as push him away.

I also had a practical matter to consider.

Eric had procured another meeting with Rai Anderson, and he asked for my telepathic assistance. I had my share of concerns. Of course I was troubled at the prospect that this person might have endangered Eric and the other witches, and worried that I might have to reveal something about him that could threaten his life. The thought of taking part in a torture interrogation gave me no pleasure. But I was also concerned about the awkwardness in working for Eric. I knew he wouldn't give a second thought to others' curiosity or speculation about my presence at Fangtasia, but it bothered me. I wasn't keen on becoming a one-trick pony who supers could trot out whenever her special skill was needed and then lead back into the stable. I was so absorbed in my thoughts I barely noticed when the electric lamps turned on.

Eric approached uncharacteristically slowly, which I thought was appropriate to the setting. It seemed disrespectful—ostentatious, even—for vampires to go whizzing in and out of graveyards. I knew he didn't give a damn about where we were, though; he was reading my feelings and gauging my reaction.

He stopped behind me, his large frame casting a shadow in the lamplight. As though we were already mid-conversation, he asked, "Did you decide what you wanted to do, lover?"

I sighed, my back still to him. "Do you really need me for this? Can't you just glamour him?"

"Of course, but I like to be certain. As you may remember, there are a few of you who can resist…"

"Are you going to hurt him?" I asked after a while.

"Perhaps."

"Kill him?" The shadow shrugged casually.

"Not likely, but I suppose it is possible." Disquieting, but honest. I turned, still seated, and craned my neck to find his face. There he was, as dangerously irresistible as ever. My heart jumped, my earlier concerns abandoned.

"Fine," I finally said. He broke into a grin, pulling me to my feet and into an embrace.

"Why are you so excited about this?! It's not like we're going to do something fun…"

"That's what you say."

I clicked my tongue. "So, the Viking is headed into battle with his woman slung over his back?"

"Something like that," he said, gray eyes glittering. "Although you clearly know nothing about Vikings…"

He whisked me to him and shot us into the sky. Though the sudden flight caught me off balance, his unexpected good mood was contagious. Eric opened the bond and elated triumph surged through me. I laughed.

"I like it," I shouted to him, over the din of rushing air. "I don't understand it, but I like it!" He said nothing, but gripped me tighter.

We arrived at Fangtasia too soon. It was still closed, which pleased me; Fangtasia always left a strange taste in my mouth. I had less than fond memories of the place, and I seriously disliked any and all of Eric's female employees on principle. Eric suggested I head into his office while he attended to some business. I tried hard not to imagine him looming over Rai Anderson bound and gagged in the dungeon.

Pam threw open the door to Eric's office just as I reached for the handle.

"Hooray. It's a party," she said dispassionately as she let me through the door. I scanned the office, but Pam was the only one inside.

"He'll be up in a minute," she said. My stomach lurched. Pam walked to the desk and pulled out a slim manila folder. "Here's the information we have so far." Surprised by her implicit trust, I leaned over the desk and began to leaf through it.

It all seemed pretty standard: Rai Anderson had no criminal record, excepting one arrest for marijuana possession ten years ago. He worked as a gas station attendant, and lived at home with his aging mother. There was nothing extraordinary about him at all, save for his three-year membership in the Shreveport Coven.

After a few minutes, I asked, "Is this guy in charge of anything at his coven? Does he have any special skills?"

"According to our intelligence, no. He's every bit the limp-dick loser he looks on paper."

"That's weird. Eric said he intrigued him…"

"Yeah, I know. And limp dicks usually do nothing for Eric."

As if on cue, a wave of lust ran through me so distracting and powerful I nearly cried out. I snapped my head around to find Eric smirking in the doorway, arms folded casually across his chest, his gaze fixed on my ass.

"Pam, please bring our guest in," he commanded. She eyed us curiously, but complied. Eric walked to me swiftly, tangled his fingers in my hair, and pressed himself into my back.

Still fighting to keep his passion from overwhelming my sense of propriety, I whispered fiercely, "When I asked you to help me work on keeping you out, this is not what I had in mind…"

"High stakes. It's the only way to learn." He pressed a long kiss into the nape of my neck as I struggled to breathe.

The moment Pam reappeared, he slammed the bond shut. I was relieved, though my own response to him lingered.

After a few controlled inhales, I surveyed the new addition to the group. I was glad to note that Rai Anderson, a small, simply-dressed man with dark hair, looked well. Bewildered perhaps, and maybe a little enamored with Pam, but all in all sound in mind and body. His eyes had the vague look of the recently glamoured.

"Anderson," Eric said, cold but polite. "You are here to participate in a conversation. Please sit." Eric indicated the chairs across from his desk. Rai complied, and I slid into the seat next to him, taking his hand. He looked at me briefly, his thoughts calm and blank. He did not seem like a person hiding a secret.

"Are you Rai Anderson?"

"Yes."

"Have you heard of Fangtasia before?" Rai nodded vacantly. "Have you ever been inside?"

"Once."

"When?"

"I was eighteen," he answered. I caught a flash of a much younger Rai in what I assumed was the mirror in the men's room. He was intrigued by a couple making out in the stall behind him. Eric looked at me for confirmation and I nodded. He pressed on.

"Have you ever spoken with Pamela Swynford De Beaufort or me before tonight?" Rai shook his head. This surprised me. It was hard to confirm a negative answer, but since no extra images or snip-its of conversations ran through his mind, I was inclined to believe it was true. Eric's eyes flicked to mine. I shrugged.

"Are you a member of the Shreveport Coven?" Immediately a strong rush of images filled his head. The backroom of a magic shop filled with herbs and trinkets, a chanting circle in the moonlight, a flash of him saying a protection charm over his mother while she slept… Peaceful, unassuming.

"Yes."

"In your coven, have you ever read about, researched, or used spells designed to harm vampires or others with supernatural abilities?"

"No."

"Have you ever met witches who did want to read about, research, or use spells designed to harm vampires or others with supernatural abilities?" His memory stuttered, and I caught a glimpse of an impassioned man with long silver hair shouting at a group seated on the floor.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"A gray-haired man." It wasn't very revealing, but it was true. I nodded at Eric.

"What was his name?" Rai's mind was empty; he remained silent. Eric grew a little exasperated. "When did you see him last?"

"Six months ago."

"Have you heard from him since?" Rai shook his head. The three of us exchanged glances.

Eric continued his questioning for twenty minutes, using every combination of words I had thought of and several I hadn't to make Rai reveal anything about the witches' attack. From what I could sense, though, there simply wasn't anything to tell.

After a solid half hour, the interrogation was over. Eric crossed around the desk and gazed directly into Rai's eyes, icy and clear. Still holding his hand, I caught a glimpse of how he viewed Eric. It was like he had never seen anything so devastatingly beautiful before—like he was staring into the sun. I felt almost jealous.

"You were never here tonight. You will have no memory of the conversation between the four of us. On your way home from work, you stopped to pick up dinner for your mother. You are going there now."

"I'm going there now," he repeated.

Eric nodded at Pam, and she ushered him out of the office.

I raised my eyebrows. "Dinner for his mother, huh?" He shrugged. "That was a nice touch." Pam returned, shutting the door behind her.

"So…what do you think?" she asked Eric. He looked tired.

"It's hard to say." Eric turned to me. "Was there any indication Anderson was hiding something?"

"Not that I could tell."

Pam caught his train of thought. "You think he could have been glamoured at your meeting?"

"Maybe. Or directly after," Eric suggested.

"That's not what it felt like," I cut in. "Glamoring usually leaves a big blue space in people's minds where they've been tinkered with. He just felt…normal."

"Limp-dick normal," Pam quipped.

"So, what are the options here?" Eric began, a little impatient. "Either Anderson was glamoured before or after by a vampire…" I shook my head, but Pam was not convinced.

"Or this nobody from nowhere is actually some kind of genius liar who can resist not one but TWO kinds of—"

"—of supernatural tampering. I get it, Pam," Eric snapped. The room fell into sullen silence.

An idea suddenly occurred. "How much do you know about shifters?" I asked. They looked at me sharply.

"How much do you know?" Pam shot back.

"Almost nothing," I admitted, "but I wonder… Is there such a thing as…as a human shifter?" Eric's eyes flashed.

"Face-changing…" he mused. "Uncommon. Very uncommon. But not impossible. That is…a good suggestion." I blushed. He smiled at me for a brief moment before snapping his fingers abruptly and barking, "Pam." She quickly dug out two large boxes of files from a locked cabinet, which they began rifling through together. I watched them poring over the documents for several minutes, nodding in agreement, shaking their heads every now and again. When they spoke, it was in Swedish. If I expected an explanation, I wasn't going to get it now. I felt hungry, and more than a little out of place.

I cleared my throat. "If there isn't anything else, Eric…" His eyes found mine instantly.

"Pam. Leave."

"You know, this is my office, too," she muttered in passing. A wave of noise flowed through the open door. It was a little after 9pm, and the club was filling up.

Eric motioned for me to come closer and grasped my hand. "Excuse us. I know sheriff work can be tedious."

"A small price to pay for the admiration of the little people," I sighed.

"Don't sell yourself short, lover."

"Really? That's what the evening's devolved into? Height jokes?"

"It's getting late… I can think of some other things I would like it to devolve into…" he teased, pressing his lips to my inner wrist.

The now-familiar cascade of lust began to spread from him into me. I pressed against it internally. It hovered around me, warm and electric, but did not consume me as it had before.

"I…think I'd better head home, Eric."

His eyebrows twitched. "Your resistance is increasing. Perhaps I can come see you in a few hours so we can continue…practicing?"

I leaned down to kiss him. As our lips touched, I pushed back against him with my own desire. He seemed relatively unaffected, though his grip on my arm tightened a little. "Absolutely," I smiled.

"Until then," he said calmly, though his eyes burned. I turned to go. "Your car is in the parking lot, by the way," he called after me.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course it is. Need I ask how it got there?"

"I picked it up from your house while you were talking with Pam. Where did you think I was?" I sheepishly recalled my speculation about Rai's torture. He sensed it. "Never mind; don't answer that."

"See you in a few hours."

The drive home was perplexingly calm. I had spent the entire day steeling myself to be an accessory to violence, but the exchange had been entirely civil. Mundane, even. Perhaps the majority of Eric's work really was tedious… A comforting thought.

I walked into the house ready to make an uneventful dinner, but when I flipped the light switch in the kitchen, the room remained black. I snapped it back and forth a few times to no effect. Damn light bulb. I didn't really want to stumble my way in, so I rummaged in my bag for my tiny flashlight and pushed it on. Still at the doorway, I shined it briefly around the room to find another switch.

Two bright yellow eyes glowed at me out of the darkness. I screamed.