A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews and PM's, especially the anonymous ones I can't respond to. I like to respond to as many as I can, but my children are UBER-demanding this week (school's out) and I want to spend as much time as I can trying to pump the story out. The summer camp season is almost upon us as well, and my little kiddies are calling to me. Being a camp director is fun, but very time consuming . I'll try to update every week, but the next month or so is gonna be pretty busy for me. Keep the reviews coming though, they really help my writing process. My muse has a huge ego! ;)

Btw, I'm glad you guys like my new characters. I'm particularly fond of Sorren myself. Thor is HOOOOOOT! There will be a few more in Chapter Eight.

Chapter Seven

I was on a beach.

The sun was high in the air above my head, and it was hot. It was a tropical beach, with wild foliage spilling over onto the sand and bendy palm trees that you could sit in the crook of. I heard the sounds of a steaming jungle in one ear, and crashing waves in the other. The air was ripe with the smell of fruit and sea spray.

I walked barefoot over plies of dried seaweed and crushed seashells, when I began to notice debris on the sand as well. Broken planks, lengths of rope, tattered pieces of a blue sail. A wave chased away a mass of land crabs, and then I could see the head of a white dragon.

I gasped and looked all around me, covering my eyes from the glaring sun. There, very far down the beach, I could just make out the shape of a broken hull jutting out of the water. I ran as fast as my tender feet would allow me, but I kept stumbling over rocks and shattered wood. The closer I got, the more scared I became. My breathing grew ragged and I felt sweat sliding down my face. I tripped again and landed inches away from the edge of a long broadsword that lay gleaming in the surf.

"Eric," I said, breathlessly. Then a little louder. "Eric?"

Something shiny caught the corner of my eye, a reflection. There was a man laying in the sand.

"Eric!" I screamed, scrambling to my feet. My dress was soaked and covered in wet sand and the beach seemed to get longer with every step I took. The muscles in my legs burned as I trudged my way onto dry sand, but I could finally see him. He was nearly naked, his furs and leathers cast off in a stiff pile nearby. His calfskin pants had been ripped off above his knees.

Prepared for the worst, I collapsed next to him. I realized instantly that he was alive and looked down at him, stumped for words. Not only was he sunbathing, but he was wearing polished aviator sunglasses, and resting comfortably with his hands behind his head. I could still see the battle wounds on his face, and some over other parts of his body, but they were greatly healed now. His skin was golden brown and he was softly singing to himself. Who would've guessed he had such a nice singing voice?

"As the son of a son of a sailor, I went out on the sea for adventure. Expanding the view of the captain and crew like a man just released from indenture."

"Eric," I asked. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just the son of a son, son of a son, son of a son of a sailor. The sea's in my veins, my tradition remains. I'm just glad I don't live in a-"

I shook his shoulder and exclaimed, "Eric!"

He glanced at me with a sour look of surprise, like he had just noticed I was in his light. He took off his sunglasses, and realized who was talking to him. "Oh, you're back."

"I guess. What happened to the boat?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I got tired of waiting."

"For the Valkaries?"

"For all of it," he replied, replacing the shades. "I thought I was on my way, but they just left me on that boat, Sookie. I was just floating out there for days. I was lucky the island showed up."

"What do you mean, showed up?"

"One second the seas was glass, the next there was an island in front of me," he said, sitting up on his elbows. He was much more lucid now, not passive and weak as he'd been on the boat. "I'm afraid my sailing skills aren't what they once were. The boat broke apart at the breakwaters."

"So then you're not dying anymore?" My voice was filled with excitement and I huddled closer to his warm body. My God, he was warm.

"Oh, I'm dying," he said with a sigh. "They'll see to that."

"Who's they, Eric?" I asked. "Who's got you?"

He smiled and tapped the tip of my nose with his forefinger. "I can't tell you that. That would be far too easy."

I gazed down at his broad chest, glistening with sweat, and laid my hand down on him. "Why can't it be easy?"

"It can be, if you want."

He was on top of me in an instant, rolling my back against the warm sand and rubbing his body against mine. He licked the sweat off my neck and reached for the hem of my dress. His long, sun bleached hair fell around me like a halo and all I could see was his smiling face. I reached up to caress his cheek and he leaned into my touch, gently kissing my wrist. His hand ran up the inside of my thigh and snapped at my panties. The breath caught in my throat as I felt his fingers pulling aside the wet fabric.

I wanted to be here. I wanted to be here. But...no, I wanted to do this.

But...

"Wait," I said, pushing his hands away.

"No, now. There's no time," he said, smothering my lips between words.

"Eric, stop," I cried out. "This isn't right."

"This will last for eternity." He became more insistent, kissing the tops of my breasts. "I will take it with me."

"No," I shrieked. "This isn't why I'm here!" I punched his chest and kneed at his ribs, until he let out a loud cry of pain and fell off me onto the sand. I clambered onto my knees and watched as he writhed in pain. I surely hadn't hit him that hard.

He held his ribcage and I saw blood ooze from between his fingers. He looked up at me and his face was once again bruised and inflamed. The color had drained from his skin and he suddenly looked emaciated. The sparkle in his eyes had dulled.

"Sookie..." he managed to mumble. Lifting his hands, he exposed a gaping hole in his side.

"Oh, my Jesus," I gasped, tears welling in my eyes. "Who did this to you?"

He rolled onto his back, blood sputtering from his mouth. "They'll kill you," was all he could manage.

"Where are you, Eric?" I leaned over him and spoke in a loud, demanding voice. "Call to me again. Call to me and I'll find you."

"Stay away. They'll kill you."

My tears fell onto his face as I began to weep. "I'm so close to you, Eric.," I cried frantically. "Please call to me again."

He grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me down to his level in an instant. "I didn't call you."

I woke up crying. I wanted to sink back into the dream and demand to know where he was, but I knew that wouldn't happen. My heart was racing. I pulled at my sweater, it was choking me. My body was aching from Eric's phantom touch. It had seemed so real. I smelled the coconuts and seaweed. I felt the sun heating my skin. Most of my dreams were jumbled like a Picasso, and they were always hard for me to decipher the next day. I figured it was because my brain was tired of working overtime all day. But this one was different, it was vivid and coherent. I could taste my own sweat on his lips. His skin warm and lightly crusted with fine white sand.

Was this just my brain reacting to stress, or was Eric really talking to me through my dreams? That notion seemed ridiculous even to me. Then again, lots of things in my life at that moment were ridiculous. Why would he say I didn't call you? Or, why would I think that?

For a fleeting moment, Eric had been human. And it again made me, was it his brain or mine?

There was a soft knocking on the bedroom door. I sat up a little, and realized that I'd fallen asleep with the lights on and my shoes still zipped. I'd only planned on laying down for a second, to calm myself and clear my head.

Another knock. I cleared my throat and wiped my face off before calling out in a crackly voice, "Uh, come in."

The door opened just enough for Bill to poke his head in. "May I enter?"

Seeing as I was still in my clothes and wide awake, I decided to be nice. "Yeah, I guess."

He closed the door behind him and slowly walked over to me. Pointing toward the foot of the bed, I nodded and he sat down. He was keeping his distance, having apparently learned his lesson on the plane. "I heard you stirring."

"I had a bad dream," I said dismissively. ''What time is it?" I asked, looking around and realizing for the first time that there was no clocks or windows.

"A little after three."

"Jeez," I sighed. I'd been asleep for over four hours. When you're with vampires, four hours significantly cuts down your time for evening activities. "What've you guys been doing?"

"We fed. Sorren took us to a bar where the humans just line up and wait to be taken," he said with a shake of his head. "They even had a menu."

"That's gross."

"It's different, that's all. I told you that things would be different."

I took a moment to look at him. He'd changed out of his earlier get-up, so I supposed there'd be no vampire hunting that night. He'd settled on his usual khaki pants and classic but comfortable button-up oxford. I recognized an old Grateful Dead tee shirt peeking out from the collar. Everything about him was familiar because he never really changed. The clothes and styles would wear out before Bill did. It was all just too familiar for me to ever be truly comfortable sitting alone with him. If I said the word, he'd be on me like a bear licking a honey comb. In some very tiny corner of my mind, that would always be nice to know. This was an extremely tiny corner however, one that left just enough room for me to attempt having a friendship with him.

"You've been crying," he observed. He looked down at Eric's jacket, still swaddling me, and pretended that it didn't bother him.

"I cry a lot," I replied dryly.

"More lately."

"No," I said. "Not as much as I have before."

He sighed, looking down with guilt smacked all over his face. "It will always comes back to that."

"Not always," I said honestly. "I don't want things to be like this. But you keep bringing it back, and I'm tired of going there with you, Bill."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are." That's not what he was apologizing for, but I said it anyway. "Why'd you come in here?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Habit."

"Habit?" My eyebrows raised up.

"Checking on you, making sure you're well."

I shook my head, but smiled a little anyway. "Well, it's a bad habit."

"I am aware of that," he said, also smiling. He stood up then, smoothing out his pants. He knew my limits, even if he was able to make a joke of it now. "You have food waiting for you. The others are here, so you know. We've discovered a few things you'll be interested in."

I reluctantly left Eric's coat on the bed and followed Bill out. Pam and Sorren were sitting at the dining room table, pouring over all of the stuff I'd just walked by earlier. Bill sat down next to Pam, which I suspected was a diplomatic move on his part. There was an empty chair next to Sorren, and next to the chair was a room service cart. My stomach growled just looking at it.

He gestured grandly to the chair. "Mrs. Northman."

I rolled my eyes as I sat down. "So, what have you guys found?" I asked, opening the silver dome and trying very hard to contain my glee upon seeing my Eric-approved meal. Turkey and bacon club sandwich, fries, and a pile of pickles. I took a gulp from a sweating glass of sweet tea and smiled. The fries were cold, but I didn't care. I poured on some ketchup and started chowing. When I looked up, they were all staring at me.

"What?" I cried, my mouth full of potato. "You guys already ate, gosh."

Bill cleared his throat. "I was telling Sookie that we've made several discoveries. "

"Yes, we have," Pam said. "Apparently, your boyfriend has been very busy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I didn't like the tone in her voice one bit. Her usual tone of sarcasm was sounding more bitter than anything else.

Sorren handed me a stack of enlarged photos. They were all of people, mostly very old people. Some of them seemed like they'd been taken a long time ago, by the looks of the clothing and backgrounds, while some of them could have been taken the day before. There were at least a hundred of them, each with a note tapped or stapled to it. Name, age, date, location, and some sort of reference number.

"What's the number?" I asked.

"That," Pam said, pointing to a file box in the middle of the table. It looked like it was about pop, it was so full of papers. "Those are pictures of all the people Eric has talked to about - Freyja." The name passed her lips like it was a hex. "And that is a collection of the stories they told him."

"He told me about that," I nodded.

"About this?" she cried, looking outraged.

"Not about that," I said, indicating toward the box with my sandwich. "But he told me that he's talked to a lot of people about her. He said that lots of them are just corny ghost stories, but some of them - aren't."

"The vampire references?" Bill asked.

I nodded and Bill said, "That's what we've found looking through the files. The dates vary throughout the century, but the stories are all the same, and the locations all center around a small area not very far from here."

"That's good," I said between bites. "Then we have a place to start."

"We don't know for sure that's where he is," Sorren said, picking up a few of the photos. "We just know that it's likely Eric was going to someplace in this pile."

"Do you know where Eric's village is?" I asked Sorren. "He said there's a small town in the place where his family's land was, and some kind of Viking museum."

Sorren shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and I realized Pam was staring at him, her arms crossed. "Ja," he admitted after a second. Pam snorted and looked away, and he quickly added. "He never took me there himself, Pamela. But I know where you speak of. It's a small fishing village called Nordan. It's about twenty miles from here."

Bill sighed and shook his head, sorting through some pictures on his end of the table. Pam was playing with her cuticles and Sorren was stroking his whiskers, looking ashamed. I was willing to bet that Sorren had at least five hundred years on her, and yet she was able to reduce him to brooding teenager. We were back to uncomfortable silence again it seemed.

"Am I missing something here?" I asked, looking between the three of them. None of them spoke, but I could see both men physically leaning away from Pam, like they were reversed magnets. "Pam?"

"What?" She crossed her arms and looked at me like I was about to play good cop/bad cop.

"You're upset that Eric didn't tell you any of this." I suggested.

"Yes," she admitted begrudgingly after a pause. "So?"

"So, it hurts your feelings."

"Don't push your luck." I just looked at her, questioning her with my eyes. She sighed heavily. "Yes."

"Pam, it's alright to be upset," I said with a kind smile. "I'm feeling that way too right now."

She narrowed her eyes a bit and I watched her fangs slide out. "Let's try not to compare Eric love stories, shall we?"

I let out disgusted gasp. "Hey! Put those things away, missy."

Bill stood up, ready to volunteer as a human shield.

"Oh sit down, lap dog!" she spat at him, but she didn't take her eyes off me. "Let's get something straight. What I have with Eric is between him and I. Nothing you feel for him will ever come close to that. And even if it did, I sure as hell am not going to discuss it with you. Get it, cookie?"

"Oh, I get it," I scoffed at her. "I get that you're so jealous of me that you can't see straight." I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. Not because I didn't mean them, because I did. She was being a bitch and I was getting pretty sick of always being the bigger person. But because she was about to launch herself at me. Bill grabbed her arms from behind before she climbed over the table.

"That's enough," Sorren held his huge arms out between all of us, his voice booming. "Pamela, retract your fangs."

Bill slowly let go of her, while Pam drew in her fangs and glared at me like an angry rattlesnake. I frowned, shoving my sandwich into to keep nasty words from flying out of my mouth.

"How are we to defeat our enemies if we quarrel among ourselves?" he demanded, chastising us like children. Too him, we were children. "All of you calm down."

Bill sat back in his seat, but Pam remained standing. She was breathing heavy, her fists clenched. Squeezing her eyes shut, tiny blood tears fell onto her face.

"Pam." Sorren's voice was softer, but still firm. "Sit down."

"I hardly know who he is right now." she whispered, her head hung low. She fell into her seat, overcome with emotion.

Sorren let out a long sigh. He reached out and took her dainty hand is his huge, brawny one. Vamps generally don't like to be touched, so my suspicions about their relationship were instantly confirmed when I saw this intimate action. "Do not judge Eric poorly for this, min harlinga junfru. He is, by nature, a private man. He has lived longer than all three of you combined. He would need another lifetime to share all that he has seen and done. You're merely footnotes to the history he's witnessed. Especially you," he indicated with his chin in my direction. "Just the fact that you are sitting here, in this room with us, proves that he values you beyond what you could possibly conceive. Isn't that enough?"

I just stared at him, because I had no idea what to say to him. Anything that could possibly come out of my mouth at that moment would sound simple in comparison. Luckily, Pam rescued me from my own stupidity. She made a show of getting up from her chair and loudly pushing it away from her.

"I'm going for a blood," she announced tersely.

I suddenly knew that I needed to talk to Sorren, this jokester who had the unique talent of hushing a room with a few sentences. It was obvious that there were things he was holding back. To spare Pam, or because he'd been bound not to talk? I needed to be alone with him to find out.

I looked to Bill, who was of course staring right back at me. I looked toward the door with my eyes, then made the smallest nods toward Sorren. He got the message loud and clear, because he sighed and got up as well.

"I think I'll join you," he called, taking a few bounds to catch up with Pam.

"Great," she deadpanned. "Maybe we can go get bunk beds too."

Bill looked back at me, grim-faced. Okay, now I owed him.

"Pay her no mind, liten flicka." Sorren said once it was just the two of us.

"I don't mind her one bit," I said quickly, although we both knew that was a lie.

"She's upset, she feels this like the loss of a parent."

"I know what grief is like, trust me, Sorren. I've seen my share of deaths."

He shook his head, putting his hand lightly on mine. "It is not the same."

"I love Eric," I said, with a fierceness my voice rarely possessed.

He got closer to me, leaning over the table and looking me straight in the eyes. "Would you kill for him?"

I didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"You say that with strong conviction, human," he said, and he squeezed my hand. I didn't have time to wonder why he was a touchy-feely vamp because he kept squeezing and squeezing until I l felt my fingers crumpling in his grasp. I didn't flinch. "Imagine how she feels, as a vampire. Take all of your anger and anguish and pain, and bottle it up in a body that doesn't allow for change, that magnifies everything you feel a hundred times. Then, you might understand what she is going through."

He let go of my hand and it was throbbing, squeezed until it turned purple. He looked down at my hand, watched me wiggle off the pain and get the blood flowing again, then he looked back up to me, eyebrow arched.

"A lot of people like you underestimate me," I said. "I'm surprised Eric didn't tell you that."

Sorren leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest with a slow smile. "He did."

"What else did he tell you?"

"That you're quick on your feet but you make bad choices," he replied. "I believe he said that if you're looking for trouble, just find Sookie and wait."

I gave in with a shrug and a faint giggle. "I can actually picture him saying that. I guess he's right. Trouble's been on my doorstep my whole life. It's just easier to blame it on your boyfriend when he's a vampire."

We looked at each other for a moment. He was still wearing his black combat gear, but he somehow made it look good. It looked sort of normal on a man his size, like you'd expect him to have a job he'd be wearing that kind of clothing for. He was older than Eric when he was changed, maybe in his late thirties. I could tell that he must shave his beard, because it had gotten remarkably longer since we'd met. At the airport, he had a blonde shadow on his face, and as we sat there, it almost reached down to his chest. I knew this happened whenever vampires cut their hair or tried to change their appearance. That's why they always looked the same, the same as the day they died. I often wondered what Eric would look like with short hair, cropped and posed like he was on the cover of GQ.

"Do you shave it every day?" I asked him.

"No, only when I need to blend in. A seven foot Viking with a pleated beard tends to stand out." He picked up the ends of his long facial hair and twirled them around.

We both laughed, and I asked, "Why doesn't Eric have a beard?"

Sorren slowly stopped laughing and the smile on his face turned to a sad look of despair. "He did. The bastards took it from him before they turned him."

"Why would they do that?" I questioned, my brows furrowed.

"To take away his manhood, to claim him."

I nodded. "He said that Ocella wanted to conquer him."

Our voices had quickly become low, serious. His eyes lost their focus and I knew he was seeing things in his mind that I could never imagine. "Romans liked young, fresh boys. Eric was a man with land and a family, but these things came to him at a such young age. He was merely a boy in men's clothing. Oh, but he was fierce, and a strong leader like his father on the battlefield. That's why they took him."

"You were there?"

He hesitated, clearing his throat. "This is a story for Eric to tell you, not I."

"But Eric's not here, and you're my only link to his life here right now," I said. I reached out and touched his hand, softly in contrast to the way he'd grabbed me. "Please, tell me. Why are you here with us?"

He heaved in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. Settling back in his seat, he began a story that he'd probably hadn't told anyone in a very long time, if at all. "I didn't know Eric at the time, but I knew of him, of his family. When my chieftain sent us to find those Romans, he told us that Eric would command the warriors from all the tribes in the area. We set out, with Eric as our leader and myself as a soldier. My tale is separate from his, and we didn't met until many years later, during his first trip back to the homeland after Ocella released him."

"What happened to you?"

"I was hit from behind, a spear stabbed into my back. When I turned around, there stood a Roman centurion with a plumed helm and a set of bloody fangs. He drained me, here," he said, pointing to the bottom of his neck. "Thought I as was dead I suppose. But Vikings tear their way out of the womb and never just lay down and die. I took the seax from my belt and I slashed his throat with my last lick of strength. His blood poured into my mouth, into my wounds. I took his head with the next slice, but it didn't matter. We both died, only I woke up. I felt the sunrise coming. I had no idea what had happened to me, I just knew I had to get out of the sun. So I buried myself and stayed down there for a few days. When I came back out, I was surrounded by bloodless corpses."

"Oh my goodness," I gasped, squeezing his hand. "That's just awful. I'm so sorry for you."

"Why?" he asked, looking amused.

"Because no one was there to help you, to teach you."

"You mean I had no maker?" he asked, smiling and patting his stomach. "It took me some time to get the hang of things, but as you can see, I managed just fine. And not having a maker has its advantages. I'm sure you can understand that."

That was an understatement. Images of Lorena and Ocella popped into my head and I nodded with a cringe. Where would I be at that very second if neither one of those people had entered my life when they did?

"So, do I pass your test?" he asked, that curious smile on his face once again.

"Yes," I replied with a slight blush. "And I promise not to antagonize Pam, but you have to promise to keep her off of me."

"I will do my best," he chortled.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on between you two?"

He laughed and it sounded like a boom on a kettle drum. "I don't have a death wish, woman!"

Can't blame me for trying. We both laughed and he hit me on the back, like we were drinking out of goblets and checking out wenches. Were they wenches back then?

"Now," I said after we settled down, rubbing hands together in anticipation. "Where do we go from here?"

"Well, assuming you don't get another call from Eric -"

"Let's assume I don't," I interjected quickly, remembering what Eric had said in my dream.

"Then we pick up the trail where Eric left off," he said. He shuffled through some papers and photos until he found one of particular interest. "This is one of his most recent discoveries. It comes from an old fisherman from a few towns over. He told a story from his childhood, one his grandfather told him. He was climbing in the mountains, not far from here, when a pale, thin man came out of the forest and spoke only in Latin. The man thought he was a beggar, or a leper, so he offered him a silver coin. The man hissed at him and barred teeth like a beast, and then fled back into the forest."

He handed me a photograph. The man in the picture was at least eighty, maybe older. His blue eyes looked haunted. "Latin, huh?" I asked.

He nodded. "Ja."

"Isn't that what they spoke in ancient Rome?" History Channel paying off in aces.

"Ja."

"Well, what are we just sitting here for?" I cried. "Eric could be there right now."

"Or he could be a hundred miles away from there," Sorren insisted. "We will go, but not tonight, and not with you."

"Like hell."

"You get yourself killed, and then what am I supposed to say to Eric when we find him?" he asked. "He'd stake me straight up the ass."

"I'll be fine, I always am."

"Unge, you are green as a leaf in spring."

"There you go underestimating me again," I said, my tone more like Pam's than my own. "I'm going, whether you want me to or not."

He blew out a loud sigh. "Eric told me you'd do this."

"Well, Eric was right. I can take care of myself."

"And attract every vampire in a hundred mile radius of you when you stand downwind."

"Use me as bait," I suggested with a shrug.

He threw his hands in the air. "Oh, what a brilliant plan."

I just sat there, letting my words sink in. He hesitated and I could almost see a little Viking hamster spinning in the wheel inside his head. "Use me as bait," I repeated.

"Out of the question."

"Sorren, you know that would work," I persisted. "If they're up there, they haven't smelled fae blood in centuries."

He frowned at me for a few seconds, then grumbled, "We'll discuss it with the others."

I smiled at him and he made an angry grunting noise as he got up from the table. "I'm going downstairs."

Just as well. I need to get some more sleep in. I had some shopping to do the next day. There were no hiking boots in my Sookie-to-go bag.

Can you name that tune this time around? Review away!