A/N: Could you name that tune? A few of you got it- it's Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight) by the SWEDISH super group ABBA. They're the best thing out of Sweden, next to the Skarsgard family that is.

Sooooo, the game is afoot, and I know not having Eric around is awful. I want him back too, but it wouldn't be any fun if Sookie, Pam, and Bill didn't get to torture each other for at least a little while. Don't fret, Sookie will continue to have those dreams, perhaps a few of them full of lemony goodness. In the meantime, we will meet a few other characters and get to know our new friend, Sorren. Picture him as that yummy guy in the Thor movie, and add 30 lbs. of muscle and a set of fangs.

BTW, did anyone get the "apples is my safe word" reference?

As always, props to Ms. Harris.

Chapter Six

There was silence in the car. All we heard was the distant sound of airplanes landing and taking off.

"Anything?"

"No."

More silence. A few minutes passed.

"Well?"

I sighed impatiently. "No, Pam, nothing."

Sorren drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, tapping out a rhythm over and over again. The radio had long since been banned. Pam turned to him, glared like a vulture, and then he stopped. "Ye Gods, woman, you've lost your sense of humor."

"I have not," she grumbled. Then for good measure, she added, "Shut up."

We'd moved away from the runway to a quieter location, despite the fact that I insisted it wasn't like a radio signal I could just turn the volume up on. Apparently, Pam and Sorren were a little annoyed at me and they didn't care what I said. Bill, on the other hand, was doing his best impression of a seat cushion. So we parked in a small car pool lot and sat in extremely uncomfortable silence.

"Where are we anyway?" I finally asked.

"Just outside Kalmar," Sorren answered.

Oh right, Kalmar. I rolled my eyes - thanks for the info. "Why here?"

"This is the airport Eric always uses," Pam said, her voice flat and tired sounding. "It's the only thing I have to go on."

It surprised me that Eric had never brought Pam to his village, in all their years together. Granted, it had taken a fae war, several near-death experiences, and a lot of sex before Eric had shared anything about his human life with me. But surely they'd been through all that and more. If she wasn't acting just about as pleasant a pit viper, I would have asked her about it.

I was also curious about the presence of Sorren. It seemed that him and Pam had been special friends at one point, which told me that he'd probably spent some time out of Sweden with them. He definitely had the air of someone Eric would find amusing. I could picture them arm wrestling and exchanging dirty stories. He obviously knew who I was, which meant that Eric had seen him since we'd met, maybe on that trip when he'd acquired Elsa the cat. I wondered what kind of embarrassing details had been shared between old friends, and it made me blush.

I was sitting behind Pam. I could she her face in the mirrors when she looked back at me. "Can you feel anything?" I asked sheepishly, my voice very low. I knew she would hear me anyway.

She stared out her open window and closed her eyes for a few seconds. "He lives. He's not very far from here, but if he doesn't call to me, there's way to pinpoint his location."

I was feeling the same thing. I leaned out my own window, resting my chin on my arm. I inhaled deeply and found the air so different from home. It was frosty and crisp, while the air in Bon Temps was always heavy and smelled of mossy things. I wanted so bad to smell Eric's soap or his hair or his leather jacket on the wind. I wanted to just be able to point my finger and say he's there, but of course that wasn't happening.

"Might I suggest we retire to the hotel?" Bill said after a few more minutes of quiet. "There, at least we can unpack and get our wits about us."

"I agree," said Sorren. "We need a battle plan."

"Battle plan?" I exclaimed, looking up.

He turned around and had that look in his eyes, that look Eric got just before he ripped someone's throat out. "Ja."

"We haven't even figured out where he is and you're already planning an invasion?"

Sorren snorted. "Don't be naive, liten flicka. A warrior is always prepared for battle."

"But we don't even know who has him," I persisted. "How can we prepare for that?"

"You must plan for all possibilities."

"Well, that sounds like a waste of time," I said. "We need to scope things out first, do some reconnaissance." (Word of the day, thank you very much.)

"Is she always like this?" Sorren asked under his breath.

"Yes," Bill and Pam replied in unison.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "He must have to hold her mouth shut in bed."

"Hey," I snapped. "Listen here, Thor - the role of snarky sidekick has already been taken. If I want to be insulted, I'll ask Pam."

He laughed even harder, holding his stomach like jolly, drunk Viking. Bill grasped my shoulder and eased me back into the seat, but I shook off his hand. Just what I wanted in my greatest time of need - a smart ass vampire tour guide. I knew he was with us because he could be trusted, but I quietly reminded myself that there were plenty of vampires in Eric's retinue that I didn't like. I decided to withhold judgment on the Viking comedian until I knew more about him.

I looked to Pam. I could see her smiling in the mirror. I didn't care of it was at my expense or not, she was actually smiling.

Maybe he wasn't so bad.

"Alright," Pam said, putting up her window. "We'll go to the hotel, and I'll decide what we do next."

We drove for about fifteen minutes, until we passed through an ancient wall that surrounded the city of Kalmar. The streets were alive with shuffling pedestrians and the hustle of outdoor cafes. It was a very old town, I could tell by the style of the buildings. We drove by an enormous cathedral and I thought I'd like to visit it, under different circumstances.

The hotel was more like an old style inn. It was a white stone building with dark timbers along the corners and under the widows. The glass in the windows was thick and bubbly and it reminded me of a house in a fairytale. There was a sign hanging over the door with a coat of arms on it and the word Vitdraken.

It was a white dragon on a field of blue, just like I'd seen on the boat in my dream.

"Has Eric been here before?" I asked, trying to sound casual about it.

"Many times," Sorren replied, tossing the car keys to a young man in a black vest. "He always stays here when he visits. Why?"

I stared at the sign, slowly swinging in the wind. "Just wondering," I said. I was keeping my hand hidden, for the time being. They already thought I was crazy enough.

"Welcome to Hotell Vitdraken," said another man. He had a thick accent, but his English was good, bless the Lord. He was stocky and a bit on the short side and had a nice smile. Inclining his head to Sorren, he said, "It's always good to see you, Herr Andersson."

"And you, Greger." Sorren gave the smaller man a hefty pat on the shoulder, which Greger took in stride.

He turned to us as the valet and a bellboy started to unload our luggage. "Welcome, Ms. Ravenscroft, Mrs. Northman. We've been expecting you."

Excuse me? Who now?

I was about to open my mouth to protest, when Pam stepped in front of me and started doing all the talking. She was good at that. "Hello, Greger is it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Greger, we're gonna need another room tonight."

"We are here to serve. Follow me, please, and Isak will check you in."

The four of us followed Greger inside. I gave Pam a what the hell look, but she just shook her head and kept walking. Vampire lingo for keep your mouth shut.

When I entered the lobby, I looked around in complete awe. It was like stepping back in time. There were tapestries hanging on the stone walls, opulent chandeliers and candelabras in every nook. The air smelled of melting wax and fresh flowers. To our left, there was a doorway leading to a bustling pub. Yet I also saw sleek computer screens and blinking security panels and cleverly hidden cameras. This was no ordinary hotel. It was a vamp-friendly hotel, like the one I'd stayed in while I was in Rhodes. No doubt, the windows were UV-proofed, and the place was actually more secure than a fortress. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a neon True Blood sign hanging over the bar. I closed my eyes, listened for a second, and realized there were blank spaces all around me. There was one directly in front of me.

I flicked my eyes open and saw a vamp standing behind the concierge desk. He was tall and way too thin for his height, with slicked black hair and dark eyes. Dressed in a black suit like all of the other employees, he was smiling expectantly at us. He wasn't sweet looking like Greger though. I'd met a lot of sinister vampires over the last few years, but he truly reminded me of Count Dracula. I bid you welcome...

"Good evening. I am Isak, your evening concierge. Passports please?" He held out his pale hand and his long fingers uncurled like skin-covered bones.

Isak was officially creepy.

We stood there as he looked over our passports and typed on his keyboard. "Ms. Ravenscroft, Mr. Compton." He handed them back their passports, but he kept mine. He looked at it closely and one of his thick eyebrows arched. "Mrs. - Northman?"

It said Stackhouse. Shit.

"Newlyweds," Pam said, rolling her eyes. "Haven't got the paperwork yet. You know how it is in the States." I distinctly heard her English accent coming out.

"Yes, well, Mr. Northman never mentioned his wife visiting, with all due respect."

"It as a last minute decision," she went on. "I'm his business partner, I can assure you-"

"Still, you must understand, Miss Ravenscroft," Isak said, barely concealing a sneer. "Security is a top priority when Mr. Northman stays with us."

"Well then, why don't you wait for Mr. Northman to come back and explain to him why his wife is waiting in the lobby, while the rest of us are upstairs taking naps in our rooms," Pam said with a wide smile, her voice dripping with innuendo. "With all due respect."

Isak cleared his throat and we were all very still for a moment. Yet another vampire showdown. If I could read his mind, I bet I'd see an image of Eric ripping off his arm and beating him over the head with it. I smiled along with Pam. Sorren was stifling a snicker. Bill just stood there with an itchy set of fangs.

"An oversight, I'm sure," Isak finally said and handed me the passport. "Mr. Compton and Ms. Ravenscroft, you will be on the third floor. Mr. Andersson, you will be in your usual room on the fourth floor. And Mrs. Northman, you will of course be sharing the King's Suite with your husband, located on the fifth floor."

"Of course," I smiled.

We gloated silence as Isak typed away, then handed us each our own keycards. "Greger will show you to your rooms."

Pam winked at him. "You're a peach."

We followed Greger to the elevator and piled in. Sorren's laughter rang out so loud that it echoed around us as the door slid shut.

"My apologies," Greger quickly said, obviously annoyed and flustered. "Isak has been with the hotel for many, many years. He's a bit old fashioned."

"He's got a stick up his ass," Sorren roared, in near hysterics.

"Yes, that too," Greger admitted.

One by one, we were led to our rooms. Bill tried to pry his way back into the elevator, but I just rolled my eyes and waved as the door closed in front of him. After another stop, it was just Greger and I standing together.

"You must use your keycard, Mrs. Northman," he explained, pointing to the panel. Next to the number 5 was a slot just the right size for my card. "This is the only way to access your floor, ma'am."

"Is there anybody else up there?" I asked, sliding the card in and out again when the light turned green.

"The King's suite is the entire fifth floor, ma'am," he replied with a smile.

"You mean it's the only room?"

"Yes ma'am."

I smiled back, shaking my head. "That sounds like Eric alright."

The shiny brass door opened and he gestured for me to lead the way. I stepped out and saw that the suite was just as elegant and regal looking as the lobby. Everywhere I looked was shining with gold. Fresh cut flowers bloomed in crystal vases on every surface. Fabrics in deep, regal shades of red and purple covered the furniture. There was a dining room with a long table to the left, and a sitting room with a huge entertainment center to the right. What lay beyond that, I couldn't see. My suitcases were already waiting by the entrance way. Or, in the foyer I should say.

"Shall I bring your bags to the master bedroom, ma'am?"

"There's more than one?" I asked.

"There are three," he replied.

"Is that the one Eric sleeps in?" My voice was softer now. Not amazed anymore, just cheerless.

"Yes ma'am."

I sighed. "Alright."

As I followed him, I suddenly became aware of Eric's belongings scattered about. There was a pile of paperwork and photographs on the dining room table. He'd left a book out, face down on a coffee table next to an empty bottle of True Blood. A black jacket, the leather one he'd been wearing only two nights earlier at my house, was thrown over the back of an arm chair. I picked it up on impulse and hugged it close to me as we walked into the master bedroom.

That's when I really started to lose it.

The bed was unmade, the sheets and pillows still showing the slight imprint of his long body. The closet door was open, revealing clothes that were all too familiar. A pair of his favorite beat-up flip flops were tossed by the end of the bed. A glance into the master bath showed me his hairbrush and cologne on the countertop. A towel was carelessly tossed on the floor next to the shower.

This is all wrong, I thought as I squeezed the jacket. Waves of anxiety overcame my body and my stomach began to flutter. First of all, Eric was a neat freak. He had his Shreveport house cleaned every week and even his office at Fangtasia was tidy. He would never leave his hotel room like this. Second of all, it looked like he'd been unpacked and settled in for days, when we knew he could've only been here for a matter of hours before was ever happened actually happened.

"Greger, was anybody else in this room besides Mr. Northman?"

"No ma'am, it's a secure floor. Only Mr. Northman and yourself have access."

"What about the staff?" I asked.

"The cleaning staff only comes in when Mr. Northman requests them, which is usually after he leaves." he replied. "After his visit several months ago, he asked that the suite not be disturbed until his return."

"And nobody else has stayed up here since then?"

"Nobody ever stays here. Mr. Northman owns the whole floor."

My brows furrowed. "Oh." Some wife I was shaping up to be.

Greger placed my bags on a luggage stand in the walk- in closet. When he came back out, my emotions were running up and down both my sleeves, and tears were running down my face.

He looked at me sympathetically. "Please don't cry, Miss Stackhouse."

"...What?"

"Mr. Northman told me a great deal about you last time he was here, with your cat, I believe." He handed me a handkerchief from his lapel pocket, which I took wearily.

"He told me not to trust anyone." I said stiffly.

"Then I will have to earn your trust, just as I did Mr. Northman's," he said matter-of-factly. "I have worked at this hotel since I was a boy. My father was concierge before me, and his father before him. I have been Mr. Northman's personal concierge ever since the Great Revelation, though I knew him many more years before that."

I gingerly dabbed my face, and listened in on his brain for a moment. She looks so sad...she may truly love him... maybe she knows more than she says...Gods, I'm so tired... I could look by the piers tonight, then get a few hours of sleep before my shift...what if I'm not here when he returns...he may need blood...Pam is as lovely as he said she was...she will be helpful... so tired...my feet hurt...

I turned away and closed my mind. I'd look in on him a few more times, but for the moment, I felt at ease with Greger.

"What do you do when Mr. Northman isn't here?" I asked him.

"I'm the day concierge, ma'am," he said. "I knew you were coming and I wanted to welcome you myself."

"What about...Isak?"

Greger smiled slightly, clearing his throat. "Mr. Northman prefers my services, ma'am."

I smiled back. "I think I can understand that. And I'm no ma'am. Call me Sookie?"

"That wouldn't be appropriate , I'm afraid," he said. "I have always called Mr. Northman by his surname."

"Well, you can't call me Miss Stackhouse around here. I guess I'll just have to get used to being Mrs. Eric Northman for a while," I said with a shrug.

"Would that be such a terrible thing?"

Talk about a loaded question. I rolled my eyes and let out a loud, nervous laugh. "Ask me again in a few days."

He continued to show me around the suite. As I walked behind him, only half listening, I noticed many little touches that I recognized as Eric's. California king size beds in every bedroom, desks laden with MP3 players and laptops, a shelf full of books with well-worn spines. It was an enormous space, big enough for all of us to stay in comfortably. I couldn't imagine being there by myself, surrounded by Eric's presence.

"Is there anything else I can help you with before I leave?" Greger asked as we walked back toward the elevator. "Shall I have the kitchen bring you a meal?"

I realized how hungry I was when I thought of food. I hadn't eaten anything since the bag of pretzels on the plane. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Something from the list?"

"List?" I asked.

"The list Mr. Northman gave me, in case you should ever visit with him," he explained. "Preferred foods, sundries, clothing sizes."

I smiled, despite my mood. And he made fun of Bill for being a Boy Scout. "I'm sure whatever they make will be fine," I said, with a little warm feeling spreading in my chest. Mrs. Eric Northman would certainly be taken care of, that was for sure. I wondered why it touched my heart now, when before it seemed annoying and overbearing.

He stepped onto the elevator, saying, "Just hit the call button on your panel when the kitchen staff buzzes. You'll be able to see from the monitor. They'll know to show their ID's."

"Aright." I leaned against the door to keep it from closing and asked, "Greger, did Mr. Northman have any visitors while he was here?"

"Not that I'm aware of, ma'am. He was only here a brief time before -" He stopped himself mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open.

"Before he left?" I supplied.

He went with it. "Yes, before he left. It is possible that I missed someone, but they would've never gotten past the front desk, let alone the elevator. I'll check the surveillance records before I go, just to be sure."

"Thank you, that's awful nice of you," I said. "There is one other thing you could do for me, if you wouldn't mind. I hate to be a bother."

"Anything, no bother at all."

"Could you give a cardkey for the elevator to Pam?" He looked suspicious, and was about to protest when I interjected, "Mr. Northman would want Pam here with me. I'm sure you're aware of who she is. She'd be up here with him if Eric was here."

"But he's not, ma'am."

I let out a long sigh. "Well, Greger," I said gently, "We're gonna have to fix that, aren't we?"

He stood there, sizing me up. It seemed that he was wondering the same things about me that I was wondering about him. I've been told that I have an honest face, and God knows I'm a terrible liar. Maybe he was a good judge of character, or very trusting, or just tired. He sort of smiled, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. I saw a glint of recognition in his eyes and I knew he felt the same hope I did. For just a moment, he wasn't Greger the concierge, he was just a worried friend.

"Yes ma'am, we are."

Then the moment was gone. He straightened his black jacket and stood a little straighter. "I'll get the keycard for Ms. Ravenscroft made now."

I let go of the door and nodded. "Thank you, Greger."

"Thank you, Miss Stackhouse." The door slid shut.

I think I was going to like Greger.

I turned around and faced the giant room before me. Now, I'd gotten used to the finer things in life, though I would never admit that to a soul. I still loved going home to my house on Hummingbird Lane, but I found my occasional dips into luxury refreshing. This was different though. This was lonely and bittersweet luxury, and I had no idea what to do with myself facing it alone. Eric, or even Bill, had always been with me when I'd been to places like this in the past.

I wandered over to a couch in the sitting area and plopped down on it. It was soft and plush, but not too cushy. Eric hated squishy seats. Looking down at the coffee table, I saw the title of the book he was reading. A Clash of Kings. He was always reading books about knights and castles, and he had hundreds of nonfiction books about ancient kingdoms and fearsome rulers back at home.

Why was I thinking about all of these meaningless things? Books and furniture, who cared? My brain wasn't working right. I felt like I was stuck on pause, like someone hit the pause button right before a very important moment in the story of my life.

I shook my head and groaned. Was being in denial a form of craziness?

I walked into the bedroom and sat down on his giant bed. I realized I was still holding Eric's jacket in my arms. I lifted to my face and deeply inhaled his scent. It smelled like Bleu De Chanel, his favorite cologne, and now mine. But it was so many other things I smelled, sitting in his bed and being surrounded by his things. Fresh air, old leather, a hint of smoke from the bar. I wrapped his jacket around myself and laid my head down on his pillows. And then I cried.

I laid there and felt the faint whisperings of Eric's dwindling life, and I cried. I cried until the pillow was wet and my chest was sore from heaving.

A while passed, and I was almost asleep, my body simply exhausted. I heard the elevator open and then the sound of knee-high Laura Croft boots on the floor. I didn't bother getting up, because I wasn't in the mood for fighting or being threatened again. I just laid there as Pam walked up to the bed, and resumed my bawling.

She waited a while before she said something. "You're leaking again."

"Yeah."

"That's his favorite jacket."

"I know."

"He'll be pissed if you ruin it with your snot."

Anger shot through my veins and I sat upright. Why that moment? Why did she have to be nasty to me, even now as my body was shaking with grief? I was about to curse her out, when I saw a blood tear running down her cheek. It landed on the sheet next to my leg.

I stared at the spot for a second, then gave her the handkerchief that was still grasped in my fist. She wiped her cheek, but only managed to smear the blood over most of her face.

"You coulda warned me about the Mrs. Northman thing, you know."

"Slipped my mind," she shrugged. I gave her a yeah right frown and she admitted, "It was the only way to get us up here, Sookie."

"Stay with me then," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "There's other bedrooms."

"I've promised Sorren."

I didn't smile, but I wanted to. "He's not your usual type, Pam."

"Oh, you know me," she said as she blotted under her eyes, gently wiping off some smudged mascara. "I bend with the wind."

"Right. He looks pretty bendy too."

We looked at each other, and then we both let tiny smiles ease onto our faces.

"We'll be back in a few hours," she said, tossing the cloth into a waste bin next to the night stand. "Get yourself together, you look like shit."

She closed the bedroom door behind her as she walked out. That could mean only one thing. They were going hunting. True Blood wasn't good enough for what we were facing.

It was going to be another long night.