Thanks for reading and reviewing! And thanks to Cageyspice for editing. She rocks, especially at fixing my stray commas and paragraph breaks.
For the third day in a row, I awoke to an unexpected knock on the front door of my office and staggered out of the tiny bedroom in my robe to answer it. A white envelope on the floor interrupted my path.
"Sookie!" yelled my unwanted visitor as she banged on my door. But it was only Amelia, so I paused to retrieve and open my unexpected correspondence. She'd kept me waiting on more than one occasion.
The cardstock was plain and slightly yellowed with age. The note was neither addressed nor signed, but I had no doubt as to either the sender or the intended recipient. In neat, swift strokes, the following command was penned: "I will meet you here tonight after sundown. You will then tell me everything I wish to know".
I huffed at his presumptuousness as I pictured him at his desk, sleeves rolled up and forehead resting on his palm, writing a note, sliding the card into the envelope, and licking the seal. Though, of course, he wouldn't have been sitting at his desk, not after last night's raid. Then he would have walked back to my front stoop and slipped the letter underneath the door. I was extra glad I'd rescinded his invitation before going to bed.
I didn't have time to dwell on the content of the note because Amelia was still demanding entrance.
"Sookie! Open up! I can see your shadow. It's cold out here!"
I turned the tricky lock and admitted my witchy friend.
"I almost did a spell to raise the dead!" she said as she strode in without issuing a greeting. "Really, you can't possibly be sleeping so late."
"Good morning … er, afternoon to you too, Amelia," I said. "I was working quite late last night which is why I was still in bed."
"Well at least you're still alive." Amelia sat on my sofa and pulled off her hat and gloves.
I just shrugged my shoulders and went to my desk to stash my not-so-anonymous letter. I'd have to take today one problem at a time. "Yes, I'm very much alive," I replied, knowing full well it was only due to Eric's timely bullet-shielding that I remained so. I shuddered, remembering the sound of the gun firing, the bullet penetrating Eric's flesh, and the pile of glittery dust left in the dark alley eight blocks away after he'd killed the creature.
I'd feel much more alive after a cup of coffee, so I was thrilled when Amelia suggested I clean myself up and get dressed so we could go down to Sam's for a late lunch, her treat. Half an hour later we were sliding into a bench in the corner diner and being waited on by the owner himself.
"Well, ladies, what can I get for you?" Sam asked, smiling with the faintest hint of a blush.
"Oh, well, can you tell us the specials?" Amelia asked. She looked at me pointedly when Sam didn't turn his eyes toward her but left them fixed on me.
"Well …" Sam rattled off what the kitchen was serving, but I avoided eye contact, busying myself stirring sugar into my coffee and stifling a yawn.
"I'll have Lafayette's gumbo," I said, having not heard anything he said. I'd been so intent on blocking out Sam's thoughts I'd missed his words as well.
"You were up awful late last night, or should I say early this morning? Do you always work those hours? It was well after midnight before I saw you head home, and still later until I saw your last client leave."
"The nature of my business requires I be open to the unforeseen," I said as diplomatically as I could. As well intentioned as I'm sure my neighbor was, I didn't owe him any explanation and wasn't exactly comforted that he spied on me.
"That man you were with, I've heard of him … Northman, right? I'd steer clear of that one, Cher … not anyone a lady should be dealing with." Sam had never objected to the deadbeats I took on as clients and I didn't think he could know that Eric Northman was actually dead, so I had to think his objections were more to do with his obvious good looks than his character.
"I can take care of myself, Sam, but I appreciate your concern," I replied, then sipped my hot coffee.
"I'll have the po' boy," Amelia said, ignoring the tension in the air. Sam nodded before retreating to the kitchen to turn our order in.
"So, spill. Any news on your brother's case? And what about you working for the vampire? Is that the client Sam saw you let in your office?" Amelia was never one to beat around the bush.
"Jason swears he didn't do it, and I believe him. I may have a lawyer willing to work on his defense, should it go to trial. I'm hoping to avoid that. My new case? Well, it's turning out to be more complicated than I had originally anticipated."
Amelia raised a skeptical eyebrow at me. "You thought working for a vampire was going to be easy? You of all people, Sookie Stackhouse, should know how much trouble vampires can be."
She was right, and I stiffened a little remembering all the trouble I'd gotten into just for loving a vampire.
When Bill had walked into Bon Temps one night, his had been the first mind I'd met that was quiet. Being with him was so calming, I'd felt a previously unknown peace. I'd have been attracted to him even if he hadn't had dark good looks to go with his dark mind. So, unsurprisingly, I'd fallen madly, hopelessly in love. It hadn't even mattered when I'd found out he was a vampire. Who was I to judge someone for being different?
And then he'd gone and run off with his maker, who'd tortured him within an inch of his life. Even though I'd rescued him and killed his sire in the process, we'd split up, for good, when I found out the depth of his darkness and his capacity for violence and betrayal. And I'd sworn off love and vampires ever since.
"One would hope," I said. Though I wasn't sure what exactly the lesson was that I was supposed to have learned from that experience.
"I never thought you'd agree to work for a vampire, Sookie. Not after what happened …" But I could tell that Amelia actually did worry that I'd be sucked back into their world, knowing how attractive their silent minds might be to a telepath.
"You know I only agreed to take the case to save my brother." Which was going to be a lot less likely now that I had no way of investigating the vampire crowd at Death Warmed Over. Even if Eric and Pam had managed to avoid arrest for their underground, illegal bar, I didn't imagine it would be opening again any time soon. And I had no other leads.
"Here you go," the cheerful waitress said. Apparently Sam didn't want to wait on us anymore, since he'd sent her to deliver our food. I didn't hesitate to dig into my gumbo, so it was several minutes before Amelia dropped her bomb on me.
"I read in the papers there was a raid on an illegal bar at the corner of Dauphine and St. Peter last night," she said.
I almost choked on my spicy stew. "The papers?" I said.
"That was why I was so concerned when I couldn't get you to answer the door. I thought they'd thrown you in jail!"
And I'd been so surprised that Amelia was reading the papers. "We got out in time. But I didn't find out anything useful." I didn't want to alarm Amelia unnecessarily by recounting the incident in the alley where we were shot at by some unidentified supernatural.
"We?"
"Eric—Mr. Northman, I mean—you know, my client."
"Eric? You call him 'Eric'?"
"It's his name."
"And he's the one Sam saw in your office late last night?" Her voice took on an accusatory tone, obviously insinuating something unprofessional had happened.
"Well, we couldn't very well discuss his case in his office, what with it being ransacked by federal agents at the time," I said.
Amelia narrowed her eyes at me. "You like him."
"What? No." My stomach lurched. Lafayette had been a little heavy handed with his Cajun spice mix.
"You do. Admit it," she charged, dramatically crossing her arms in front of her chest after setting her fork aside.
"Amelia! That's absurd."
"Then why are you blushing?"
"It's warm in here. Plus the spicy stew."
"At least concede you find him attractive."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course, he's gorgeous. Have you ever met an ugly vampire?"
"Well, you have a point there," she said with a laugh. "But seriously, Sookie, be careful. I know you're the mind-reader and all, but sometimes I think you've gotten so used to blocking out the thoughts of others, you silence your own inner thoughts, too."
Luckily, that line of questioning was brought to an end with the return of our waitress. Amelia paid for our lunch, as promised, and wished me good luck before hastily returning to her shop and leaving me to worry about my meeting with Eric Northman for the rest of the day.
Unlike my afternoon visitor, Mr. Northman's knock was quick and efficient, and unlike earlier, I was ready and waiting. I wondered how he'd gotten dressed so quickly after sunset, when it had take me the better part of the afternoon to look presentable. Selecting an outfit when I did not know the evening's agenda was rather difficult, but considering my brush with death last night, I opted for a simply cut dress in a bold pattern with sensible shoes rather than the heels I'd struggled to run in last night. No amount of face powder was going to hide my tired, dark eyes so I'd hoped full, red lips would compensate.
Eric was in another impeccable suit, complete with vest and tie and a wide brimmed hat. His breast pocket held a square of silk, blood red, the only hint of color in the otherwise black and white ensemble. If he weren't so masculine, the getup might have been almost dandy.
I swallowed. Amelia was right.
"Good evening, Sookie," he said. He made to step past me and was hindered by the magical barrier that kept vampires out of a human's home
"Do come in, Mr. Northman," I said, waving him in.
He strode in, nonplussed. "I take it you rested well?" he said as he tipped his hat to me. Given the proclivity to violence of most vampires, one might expect them to be ill mannered, but, in my experience, they are quite the opposite, especially if they want something from you. Eric was no exception.
"Certainly. And I take it you were able to find refreshment last evening? I'm sure the saloons off St. Louis serve late every night," I replied in my practiced tone meant to impart Southern hospitality, though I doubt my grandmother would have thought baiting a vampire about his feeding habits was good manners.
"I detest whores and brothels, and much prefer hunting for my dinner to buying it if a willing donor isn't readily available. But even a vampire as old as I can't be choosy after healing from a bullet wound."
"As charming as this line of conversation is, Mr. Northman, I don't believe it's why you are here. Please, have a seat," I said, directing him to the chair I'd placed in front of my desk. I sat behind it, comforted by the barrier between us.
"So you got my note." He flashed me a brilliant smile. I fought to keep myself from returning it. "And please—call me Eric."
"Since none of my other clients would make such bold demands or have such elegant penmanship, I assumed it was you."
"I took you for a woman who appreciated directness." He wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue as his eyes flickered over my body as if outlining my form.
"Yes, that's true. So, why don't we get down to business then? What is it that you want to know?"
"Tell me how you came to know about vampires. Our kind does not generally reveal their nature to humans. Pam mentioned you told her you'd staked a vampire."
"How is this relevant to my investigation?"
"I need to know I can trust you."
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because I have not killed you or harmed you in any way, though I've had ample opportunity."
I couldn't argue with that claim. Though I still wasn't sure how Eric had heard of my reputation or what had prompted him to seek my services, he hadn't done anything to harm me. Quite the opposite—he'd taken a bullet for me and killed my attacker. Besides, the story of how I'd come to know the undead still walk the earth wasn't all that exciting.
"A dark stranger came into my town, a man I knew was different from any other man I'd ever known. He was the first vampire I ever met."
Apparently, no matter how vague my story was, Eric could read between the lines. "Am I to presume you formed a romantic liaison with this vampire?"
"You may presume whatever you like." I smiled sweetly at him.
Eric leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of my desk. "And is he the vampire you killed?"
"No. It was his maker."
Eric's eyes widened, ever so slightly, which I only noticed because I was refusing to be the first to break our mutual stare. "Sookie, you are full of surprises." He shook his head back and forth, laughing as if at a child saying something adult without fully understanding her meaning.
"And that's just the beginning," I said, matching his smile.
"You're right," Eric said, his amusement fading from his face as quickly as it had appeared. "I have additional questions for you. How were you able to know for sure that Bruce was telling the truth? And how did you know we were about to be raided, only moments before it happened? Tell me exactly what it is you do, Sookie Stackhouse."
At first I was going to tell Eric that he might as well be asking a lady her age or the butcher what goes in the sausage, neither of which were polite, but realized both expressions would be lost on a vampire. Instead, I challenged him. "Or what?"
"Or what?" Eric cocked an eyebrow at me. Apparently he wasn't questioned often, because he seemed unsure how to respond.
"Why should I tell you that? What difference does it make how I do what I do?"
"Because I know why you agreed to take my case. And it wasn't for the money. It was so you could try and help your brother."
"What do you know about Jason?" I matched Eric's pose, leaning forward on my desk. I couldn't stop my heart from racing. Was Eric somehow responsible for Jason being framed as the Midnight Romeo? I'd had a feeling the timing of his arrival at my office door was more than coincidence.
Eric leaned back in the leather chair, then lifted his hat with one hand while the fingers of his other combed through his hair. After spinning his hat around on his finger and catching it so it rested over his left knee, he looked up and met my eyes. "Now, you have something I want to know; I have something you want to know. And I believe you'll find that cooperating with me is far more pleasurable than the alternative." Though his tone was light and friendly, I could feel the threat just underneath his words. "That is 'what.'"
Given my ability, I'd be a natural at poker. The best card shark in New Orleans wouldn't be able to best me if I ever took a seat at his table. They say every man has a tell, but I wasn't accustomed to having to look any farther than his thoughts before making my bet. I wasn't willing to call Eric's bluff when my brother's life was on the table, so I folded.
"I'm a telepath."
Several moments of silence passed. I studied the features on Eric's face for a reaction, and found none.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, airy, almost a purr, as if he were coaxing a response out of me rather than demanding one. "Sookie, can you tell what I am thinking now?"
"No." I didn't elaborate, for fear that my voice would crack and he'd think I was lying.
"Why should I believe you?"
"The only man I was fool enough to fall in love with had fangs." I gave him a wry smile, which he quickly returned.
"You can't read the thoughts of vampires." He looked relieved at his realization, and I wondered what he was still hiding from me.
"No. Just humans. Some people better than others. I think there must be other kinds of creatures out there, walking around, pretending to be humans the way vampires do, because I can't get a good signal on them, either. Some people are just … different."
"Different, like you?"
"No. At least, I've never met another person that can do what I do. Though my friend Amelia claims to have met a psychic. I guess only time can tell if that's true." Frankly, I wasn't sure which would be worse. Seeing the future, or hearing the unedited and constant stream of the consciousness of others.
"I had a psychic once. It was incredible." The echo of the memory sounded in his voice as nostalgia swept him away from the present time and place.
"Did the psychic think so?" Judging by the tip of his extended fang that peeked out of his mouth, I thought not.
He smirked. "For a while."
I wasn't particularly amused or comforted by that admission.
"What do you know about my brother?" I demanded.
"Only that he is accused of murders he did not commit and that you care very much about exonerating him."
"That's true."
"Which is why you are going to help me find my thief. I am in a unique position to help your brother." That wasn't exactly a promise of assistance. And he wasn't telling me the whole story. There was something that still didn't quite fit together, a piece of this puzzle I still needed to find.
"Why do you care so much about finding out who stole from you? It isn't just about the money."
"You're right. It's not."
"Then why?"
Eric's eyes looked out my window, down into the streets of New Orleans below, where life danced with death each night. "The world is changing. Now is not the time to be weak."
"You can really help with my brother's situation?"
"If you solve this mystery." That was when I realized that it wasn't about the money, or Eric's honor. This was a test. I still didn't have a choice. It was too late to walk away now.
"Do you have a plan?"
"Pam is holding two of our former waitresses in a warehouse I own, since we've obviously had to close down the bar until a new location can be found. They are waiting for you to question them."
Eric was still convinced it was humans he was fighting against, and I had no evidence to disprove his theory, even if my gut told me he was overlooking some vital piece of evidence. I let out a sigh of resignation.
"Let me get my coat."