I know I said I wasn't going to post weekly here, thinking I'd just post weekly on my blog (because it is so much easier to do those final tweeks and edits!) but because so many of you put it on alert, I figured I wouldn't wait until it was 100% complete to post here. So, after I've had a chance to do an edit after posting (I always find something to fix as soon as I hit "publish") and let it sit on wordpress until I'm sure I'm done tinkering, then I'll post here. That way I don't have to work so hard to keep both versions the same.

Thanks to Cageyspice for cleaning this up. She's got such a good eye. Any errors left are my own!

The sun was already low in the sky and hidden under a blanket of grey clouds. The colors seemed washed out of everything; the normally colorful Bourbon Street seemed desolate and dreary in the late afternoon. Sam Merlotte was hauling boxes of fish that would undoubtedly end up in his famous seafood gumbo into the back door of his cafe as I descended the steps from my office.

"Hello, Sam."

"Hey there, Cher," he said as he sat down the crate and then ran his hands through his tangled mess of red-blond curls. I liked Sam better than most humans because his thoughts were more muffled than those of most people, but I'd still turned him down every time he'd asked me out on a date. His gumbo was delicious, but he always smelled like fish. Besides, my relationship history didn't have me wanting to jump back into those shark-infested waters anytime soon. "Where you off to this fine afternoon?" he called, smiling sweetly.

"Business, errands, the usual," I answered, polite yet vague. The less people knew about me, the better. Especially since my brother was being accused of murder and I had just agreed to work for a vampire. No sense getting Sam in trouble just for knowing too much. He was, after all, one of the few nice guys I knew.

"Stop by for dinner later. I'll fix you up somethin' special." And though Sam flashed me that wide, genuine smile of his, I couldn't bring myself to return it.

"We'll see," I said, and turned to make my way up the street towards Amelia's magic shop, over on the far side of Jackson Square. The brisk walk gave me time to think, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. I wondered where Jason was hiding out. I hoped he hadn't run. That'd only make things worse.

Luckily it didn't take too long to work my way through the square, and even more luckily, there weren't any other customers at Amelia's when I arrived. There were lots of practitioners in New Orleans, so she was often too busy to have a private conversation with me in her shop during business hours.

Amelia wasn't just selling trinkets to tourists or dabbling in voodou—though she did both of those things. She studied magic despite her father's objections and was devoted to her craft. We'd become fast friends when we'd helped each other out of a pickle when I'd first moved to the city, and even though we didn't see eye to eye on everything, I liked Amelia because she was honest. This witch wasn't shy about speaking her mind.

"Sookie!" she squealed with delight when the bell rang, signalling my entrance. "I knew you'd stop by."

"So, what, you're psychic now?" I teased.

"No, I just figured with what was going on with Jason, you'd want to talk."

I let out a long sigh. Amelia didn't normally follow the news, so some gossiping witch must have tipped her off to the story. "He's really done it this time. I told him prostitutes were bad news, but I was mostly warning him against disease."

"The least of Jason's problems is the boogie-woogie. I've even got a cure for that. You saw this morning's paper, right?" She said as she led me through the maze of tables covered in candles and shelves of jars of herbs for potions to the back of her shop. I didn't have to read the article, because I saw in her thoughts that the papers had done another exposé on my brother. Front page. There wouldn't be a person in any Louisiana that wouldn't convict him after reading it.

We went back behind Amelia's counter where she had a fresh pot of tea. Though she offered me some, I declined. Tea was calming, soothing, and I needed to stay alert. Amelia shrugged her shoulders and took out a sandwich. For something to do, I read the article in question, but it didn't have the full story.

What the reporter had failed to mention was that each murdered girl had suffered from chronic anemia, and all had tiny twin puncture wounds. I'd discovered that tidbit when I'd snuck into the morgue yesterday and examined them myself. Dead bodies used to give me the heebie-jeebies, but after seeing so much death in my life, the effect had worn off. What had scared me was when the coroner almost caught me. I'd had to pretend I was lost when the old attendant to the dead had walked in on me snopping around. Despite the close call, it had given me a chance to catch a bit of what he was thinking, and he was definitely jittery about this particular brash of murders. He'd been perplexed by those small, round markings, but didn't want to speculate as to their cause so he hadn't mentioned it to the police. I'd picked that much up from his thoughts yesterday afternoon. In all cases, the girls had died from a whack on the side of the head. He also didn't know what to make of the blood loss, since it was not related to the cause of death, so he'd remained silent about it as well.

He didn't know about vampires. But I did.

For a moment I regretted coming to see Amelia at all, but if I was going to be walking into a vampire's nest tonight, I wanted someone to know.

"I have a plan, Amelia. A way to clear Jason's name," I said, breaking the silence.

Amelia didn't even wait to swallow her last bite of sandwich before urging me to continue. "Oh, well come on! You know I'm not a mind reader like you." She gestured wildly, nearly knocking her cup of tea over on a pile of grimoires.

Her enthusiasm made me hesitate. I'd come here for the sole purpose of letting my friend know what I was up to in case anything went wrong, and now I was second guessing myself. Really, I had no right to drag her into this. "It's dangerous."

"Well I didn't figure it'd be a walk in the park," she said as she rolled her eyes at me. I could tell from her thoughts she was eager for the information, so I decided I could relay the most basic details.

"I'm only telling you because I want someone to know where I am. There's no need for you to get involved."

"Sookie … what is it?"

Now I'd blown it up so big, her thoughts were jumping to all kinds of crazy plots to get Jason out of trouble, some of them more unbelievable than what I was actually doing. So I just spit it out, and braced myself for her reaction. "I'm going to Death Warmed Over tonight."

"That treacherous underground bar in the Quarter? No respectable lady would ever be caught dead there." And Amelia knew for herself, since she was nothing close to a respectable lady, at least by New Orleans society standards. She'd been to Death before, and found it even too rough for her tastes.

"Well I'd never just waltz in there. The owner wants me to do a job. It's simple enough, really. Someone's stealing money, he wants me to find out who it is. He doesn't need to know I'll be working another case while I'm there." There simply wasn't a better option. I didn't have a lot of time, and no way I'd get access to the vamp world any other way.

"Did you consider it might be a trap?"

Amelia obviously thought I was some sort of amateur, but I'd been around this block before. I knew there were all kinds of contingencies I couldn't plan for. "Yes. But the bottom line is, a vampire is the one responsible for killing those girls, not my brother. The only way to get Jason out of trouble is to give the police another suspect."

"But the police can't do anything about a vampire."

"That's not my problem."

Amelia knew better than most there was no sense arguing with me once I'd made up my mind, so all she said was "good luck, and be careful." I didn't need the advice, but I figured I needed all the luck I could get. She walked me out to the front of the shop. She gave me a hug, then grabbed a small leather bag and pressed it into my palm.

"Take this for good luck?"

"What is it?" Though I had a certain respect for Amelia, I was highly skeptical of her potions and charms. Though I knew supernatural elements existed in this world, I wasn't sure humans could exact much control over them with herbs or words.

"Just a good luck charm. Some devil's shoestring and a dime. Usually I sell it to gamblers, but seems what you're about to do isn't much different than a high stakes game of cards. Put it in your handbag. At least you'll know you always have a spare dime." I couldn't argue against her wisdom, so I tucked it into my pocketbook and opened the door to leave.

"Let me know how it goes," she called as I walked out. I nodded without looking back.

After dark, I dressed in a long skirt and discreet silk-satin tie blouse. Anything dressier would have drawn too much unwanted attention in such a place as I was going, as would anything more in line with what the other women at Death Warmed Over might be wearing. After buttoning up my ankle boots I checked my lipstick in the tiny mirror over my washing basin and then took a deep breath. I could do this. I had to. For Jason.

When I arrived at the door that I knew was the entrance to the vampire bar, I didn't know what to do. Just enter? Under normal circumstances I wouldn't dare to do such a thing. Knocking seemed wrong too, but in the end it's what I decided to do, though I was expected and it was a public place.

Just as I was lifting my fist to rap on the old, worn wooden door, it swung open, revealing a petite blond vampire draped impeccably in a fashionable silk dress, though still more conservatively than me. She smiled, a polite, ladylike curving of her mouth that was at odds with the amused menace of her eyes.

"You weren't what I was expecting," she said with a small laugh, then looked me up and down. "No wonder..." she added, shaking her head back and forth, leaving me to guess as to what mystery my appearance explained.

"I'm Stackhouse. Mr. Northman hired me to do some work for him and instructed me to meet him here, tonight," I said. After all, Eric had a thief in his midst, one that could very well be this small woman who would seem so nonthreatening to the untrained eye. I knew better than to underestimate her. And even if Eric insisted that the one stealing money from him was human, I saw no reason to limit my pool of suspects prematurely.

"Yes, I was told. I'm Pam, Eric's right hand," she said, but didn't offer her hand to shake. "He didn't say you were such a looker," she added.

I ignored her comment and the almost lascivious gaze she directed at me, both so incongruous with her demure features. Something told me that I shouldn't discount her as a suspect in the murder of the girls in the Quarter, either. "Do you have a place where I can hang my coat?"

"I'll hang it up in back, but I've got work to do. I don't have time to mind you until Eric arrives. Make yourself comfortable, and I dare say, useful. He'll see you when he pleases." If I hadn't had the ulterior motive of finding out information on the vampire draining prostitutes, I'd have high-tailed it out of there after being treated with such disrespect, but I swallowed my pride and took a seat at the bar where an Indian with long, dark, silky hair was wiping down glasses.

"We don't start serving drinks for another half hour," he said without looking up from his work.

"Don't mind me in the least. I'll take nothing but a water, and only when you get the chance." I pulled off my gloves and hat and set them on the seat beside me next to my purse and sat down to watch.

It didn't take long for the waitress to arrive and notice my presence with distaste. While the bartender, whose name I found out was Longshadow, had been reluctantly chatting with me for a few minutes, I'd learned that he was from South Dakota originally, despite him being a vampire of few words. Gran had taught me to be polite and social, and vampires weren't so different from humans in that they were mostly comfortable talking about themselves, even if they didn't usually beat their gums with strangers. Showing an interest was the key to any conversation. And if I could get friendly with this vamp, he'd likely be able to supply me with some useful information.

But I thought all my progress might be ended when the waitress shot a dark look at me—and the vampire behind the bar. Belinda's thoughts were predatory and possessive; she obviously had a thing for Longshadow. Judging by the heated glances she was flashing him, it was more than an idle flirtation. The bit marks peeking out from her collar were only further proof she was definitely cozying up to the undead and offering them more than company.

Then, before I knew it, the club was bustling with activity, men smoking cigars and playing cards at the round tables in the corners, the few women hanging on to those that were having lucky nights.

Among them, inconspicuously posing as nothing more than drifters and vagabonds, were vampires. I could pick the blank spots out as easy as if they'd borne a red mark. Any one of them could be the one responsible for the crimes my brother was accused of, and without my usual advantage to aid in rooting out the killer, this investigation was going to be much more difficult than other cases.

Luckily, I was up to the challenge. Absent my access to their thoughts, I still had my skills of observation. Finding out who would do such a thing as carelessly murder girls—vampires generally took steps to ensure their kills were cleverly hidden—was simply a matter of finding out who had a motive. I set in to carefully observe the crowd, hoping for a clue. This sort of investigation was much more time consuming than my usual methods, and I had precious little time before my brother would end up in the gallows.

Unfortunately, before I could come up with so much as a promising lead or a spark of an idea, I was reminded of my nominal goal when Eric Northman, dressed impeccably in black pinstripe with matching black hat, strode through the door. All eyes fell upon him, and a hush went back over the patrons of the bar. This vampire certainly knew how to make an entrance. My tongue suddenly felt heavy and dry in my mouth, and I wished I'd ordered something stronger than water. With nothing more than a discrete nod, Eric walked resolutely back towards the direction of his office, and I knew he wished me to follow. As much as I bristled at the subtle summons, I had agreed to this job and needed his help, even if he gave it unknowingly.

"Thanks for the drink, and the company," I said to Longshadow, who barely nodded in silent reply, then grabbed my personal effects and followed Eric's path, ignoring the heads that turned to watch me walk across the seedy bar.

I found him sitting in a chair behind his expansive oak desk, idly thumbing through what must be his ledger, detailing the financial dealings of his businesses. "So, Sookie … may I call you Sookie?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at me. I nodded, stifling a smile. The way my name rolled off his tongue, there was no way to deny him its use.

"Good." His accent was evident in the way he lingered on the vowels. "And what do you think of the place?"

"I think it has been appropriately named." Death Warmed Over was an apt description of the patrons.

Eric smiled widely. "It has its charms."

"Indeed."

"I wanted you to be acquainted with the place and comfortable with your surroundings. Tomorrow night, you will interview my human associates and employees."

"And why are you so certain it is a human who has stolen from you?" I asked.

"A vampire wouldn't dare cross me." The ease with which he made the claim, his voice light, airy, yet matter-of-fact, I was inclined to believe him. Besides, human minds were the ones I could read, which made for a far easier investigation. "This arrangement is agreeable to you?"

I nodded again. Eric's intense eyes had a way of making speech elusive. He went on to outline his list of suspects, all humans who had access to his the money. His daytime business associate, a banker who moonlighted laundering money for the criminal elements of New Orleans, and two waitresses that had been entrusted with access to the safe, one a woman named Ginger, the other Belinda, the dark-eyed girl who had thought so ill of me when she caught me chatting with the bartender, Longshadow. Short list of suspects. It shouldn't be hard to find the thief, and I understood how Eric couldn't simply kill them. The deaths could easily be traced back to him. Besides, he wouldn't get his money back if they were dead.

I glanced at my watch out of habit, even though it didn't work. "It's getting late."

"You don't even know what time it is," Eric said with a smirk. I wondered how he knew it was broken. Acute vampire hearing, perhaps. He must have noticed the lack of ticking.

"I know enough to know it's late."

"Not too late." And I wondered why he might hint at me staying, when our business had clearly been concluded.

"I've seen enough tonight. People will begin to be suspicious if I'm in here for too long." I new well enough what most would speculate for me having a private audience with Mr. Northman at all. Best to not arouse too much attention. "I just need to get my coat," I said, glancing around the room for where Pam, the blond vampire I'd first met this evening, had stowed it.

Quicker than I'd have thought possible, Eric darted over to the coat rack and retrieved it for me. I reached out to take it, trying to not let my surprise show on my face, but I couldn't stop my mouth from dropping open when he said, "Allow me," and held it up for me to slide my arms in the sleeves. I turned away to slip it on as quickly as possible, but as I pulled the fur collar and began to button it, I felt his hands rest on my shoulders and give a slight squeeze, lingering longer than necessary.

"Thank you," I said, and turned around to face him as I continued to button up my coat, though a strange warmth was spreading through me so I felt like I didn't need it any longer. Though the touch had been brief and far from intimate, I'd forgotten how delightfully soothing it was to have someone lay their hands on me without being bombarded by their thoughts.

After Bill, it was something I'd worked very hard to forget.

"You will return tomorrow night," he said.

I nodded, risking a look over my shoulder at him. His brows were knitted together in a puzzled expression that I assumed did not often overtake his hard features.

"There's a back door here. I'll show you out." He led me through a concealed door that opened unceremoniously to the alley. I drew my collar firmly around my neck, conscious of the cold and the hungry look the vampire I'd agreed to work for shot me.

"Goodnight, Sookie," he said, and for the last time that night, I nodded, and walked towards the street, intent on finding my bed.

Thanks for reading! Update sometime next week.