Eric closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing Long Shadow and Hot Rain under his breath. The latter had sent yet another email with ridiculous demands that Eric had no intention of satisfying. He raised his head again and stared at the message, written in all capital letters, his finger hovering to click the "delete" button. Instead he clicked "reply" and stared at the empty box where his message – one which he would struggle to word in a polite way – would soon appear.
Merciful distraction came in the leather-clad form of Pam, who tapped briefly on his office door and let herself in. "Eric," she said with a shit-eating grin, "do you know what Sookie is telling me? Someone shot her." He knew by her manner that it was nothing serious. Pam was much too smart to make light of any real harm befalling Sookie. She laughed at Sookie's reply, then said, "Here is the man."
He took the phone and motioned for Pam to leave. "It can't be critical, or you wouldn't be talking to me," he said. And Pam would be staked instead of strutting out of the office in her three-inch heels.
"Eric… I need a favor."
"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He allowed himself to hope that she wanted his blood to help her heal, or that perhaps she would let him replace her car. Anything, everything, he would deny her nothing. He waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't. "Really?" he repeated. Another long pause, and he couldn't stop himself from laughing with heartfelt pleasure. "Gotcha."
He listened to her directions for her temporary apartment, hung up the phone, slammed his laptop shut, and flew to her. Rain was falling hard and fast, but it felt good. It struck him that she might need money to rebuild the parts of her house destroyed by fire. Even if she only wanted her hair combed, he was giddy at the prospect. Not only was she giving him the satisfaction of helping her; she was giving him the leverage to find out what he wanted to know. And he would use that leverage. Oh, yes.
She answered his knock promptly and looked up at him, puzzled, when he didn't enter. "New building," he explained. He could see that she was unharmed apart from a bandage on her shoulder, so it appeared unlikely that she wanted his blood.
Her mouth formed a silent "Oh!" as she stepped aside. "You are welcome to come in." She shut the door. "Can I get you a drink? I'm sorry, I don't have any TrueBlood, and I'm not supposed to drive, so I couldn't go get any."
What, then, did she intend for him to drink? It didn't matter. "Not important."
She motioned to the sofa. "Please sit down."
The couch was cheap and hard, but he made himself as comfortable as possible. He couldn't stop smiling. "What's the favor you need, Sookie?" he asked.
She half-sat, half-leaned against a mismatched chair across from him. "It's about Tara and Mickey," she began, hesitating when she saw his frown. "Franklin… gave her to him in that way you vamps do, and I just know he's going to kill her, Eric. It's only a matter of time."
"She could leave during the day, and she doesn't."
Sookie folded her arms across her chest. "Why should she leave her business and her home? He's the one should leave. Tara would be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life if she tried to shake him loose by running."
She was right, of course. He studied the creases in her forehead as she frowned at him. So this was the favor. A favor for someone else. An easy favor because Franklin and Mickey were breaking the law.
"I've learned more about Franklin since I met him in Mississippi," he told her. "Franklin has an outdated mindset. Vampires used to pass willing humans around. When our existence was secret, it was convenient to have a human lover, to maintain that person…" He paused, searching for the right words. "That is, not to take too much blood. And then, when there was no one left who wanted her—or him – that person would be… completely used." Not to put too fine a point on it.
Her mouth twisted. "You mean drained."
"Sookie," he said gently, leaning forward, "you have to understand that for hundreds – thousands – of years, we have considered ourselves better than humans, separate from humans." How to put it in terms that could make sense to her? "Very much in the same relationship to humans as humans have to, say, cows. Edible like cows…" He grinned at her. "But cute, too."
Anger ripped through his blood like a wildfire; it was hers. "I'll just go to Bill," she snapped. "He knows Tara, and she rents her business premises from him, so I bet he'll feel obliged to help her."
"Yes, he'd be obliged to try to kill Salome's underling," Eric told her calmly. "Bill doesn't rank any higher than Mickey, so he can't order him to leave." He fixed his gaze on hers. "Who do you think would survive the fight?" Her anger cooled, replaced by fear, and he knew that she understood. He smiled at her in triumph. "No, I'm afraid I'm your best hope here, Sookie. I'll talk to Salome and ask her to call her dog off. Franklin is not her child, but Mickey is. Since he's been poaching in my area, she'll be obliged to recall him." His smile widened. "And since you're asking me to do this for you, of course, you owe me."
She rolled her eyes. "Gosh, I wonder what you want in return?"
I want what I should never have had to beg you for: the truth. "Tell me what happened while I was staying with you." He was nervous, he realized, and it made him feel foolish. It wasn't an anxious or fearful apprehension, but a giddy twist inside that made it difficult to sit still. "Tell me completely, leaving out nothing. After that, I'll do what you want."
She uncrossed her arms and rested her hands in her lap. They suddenly interested her very much because she wouldn't meet his eyes. "All right," she murmured.
Easy question first. "Did we have sex?"
"Eric, we had sex in every position I could imagine, and some I couldn't." A smile teased the corners of her mouth, and her face flooded with color. "We had sex in every room in my house, and we had sex outdoors. You told me it was the best you'd ever had." Now she allowed the smile to have its way. "Too bad you can't remember it."
Words failed him. Thoughts failed him. He didn't know how long he sat there in silence, staring at her. Was she toying with him? Taking advantage of an unpleasant situation, having a bit of fun? But he knew they had slept together; he knew there was more.
He waited for her to look at him, and he asked calmly, "Is there anything else I should know?"
"Um…" She swallowed. "Yes."
"Then perhaps you'll enlighten me." He knew his voice was cold, but it was the only safe emotion.
Sookie bit her lower lip, and again he lost her gaze as her eyes flitted away. "You offered to give up your position as sheriff and come to live with me and get a job."
The victim's memory will be erased. He will seek out his heart's desire but never know it if he finds it. Now he understood. The curse wasn't meant to be permanent. The curse was in the breaking of it, in the second loss of memory – the loss of the heart's desire. The pressure in the chest, the vacuum, the madness of trying to find what would fill the emptiness. Loss.
"Ah," he said at last. He threaded his fingers together. "Anything else?"
"Yes," she nodded, exhaling slowly. "When we came home that last night, the night we'd had the battle with the witches in Shreveport, we came in the back door, right, like I always do? And Debbie Pelt—you remember her." Oh, yes. "Alcide's… oh, whatever she was to him. Debbie was sitting at my kitchen table, and she had a gun and was gonna shoot me. But you threw yourself in front of me." She had found his eyes, and now she reached out to touch his knee, as if he were an obedient dog. "And you took the bullet," she continued, "which was really, really sweet of you. But she was going to shoot again, and I pulled out my brother's shotgun, and I killed her." Her breath caught on a gasp or a sob, and she raised her hand to her mouth. "I killed her." And rightly so, he was about to say when she motioned for him to let her finish. "We gathered up the body and bagged it, and you took it and buried her somewhere while I cleaned the kitchen. And you found her car and you hid it. I don't know where." She shook her head, still crying. "It took me hours to get the blood out of the kitchen. It was on everything."
"And now someone else has shot at you and I wasn't there to take the bullet. You must be living wrong." He was teasing her, but his voice was gentle. "Do you think the Pelt family is trying to get revenge?" he wondered aloud.
"No, they hired private detectives, and as far as I know, the private detectives didn't find any reason to suspect me any more than anyone else." She shrugged and launched into a rambling explanation that he didn't listen to.
"You're talking too much," he told her, not unkindly, when she paused for breath.
It struck him suddenly that Sookie had lost just as much as he had – perhaps even more, since she actually remembered it. Her reluctance to tell him the truth had not been cruelty, but a defense. He watched her in silence until she stopped crying. This version of himself that she had cared about and taken to her bed… how different was he, really? And if she had cared about him, why had she refused his offer to stay with her? Or did she refuse?
"I told you I would leave everything for you?" he asked. Her only reply was a short, derisive laugh, which he ignored. "And how did you respond?"
"You couldn't just stay with me, not remembering," she said in a quiet voice. "That wouldn't be right." She had held him in the palm of her hand, but she had refused the power of taking his life away. "Sooo…" she trailed off, looking tired and sad. "I did your favor. Now you do mine."
If he had one virtue, it was being true to his word. He called Salome, whose human secretary answered. No, he didn't have just one virtue. He had at least two. Being true to his word, and charm. He laid it on thick and without shame. The business was done in a matter of minutes, and he couldn't keep from grinning as he idly juggled his phone.
Sookie was frowning. "You knew Mickey and Franklin were doing something wrong to start with. You knew their boss would be glad to find out they were breaking the rules, since her vamp was violating your territory. So this won't affect you at all."
Sookie, this has affected me in more ways than you will ever know. He held on to his grin. "I only realized that when you told me what you wanted. How could I know that your heart's desire would be for me to help someone else?" He spoke the words "heart's desire" without thinking, and it caused him physical pain. He hadn't expected that.
"What did you think I wanted?" she asked, her lips turned into something very much like a pout.
My blood, my assistance. Me. "I thought maybe you wanted me to pay for rebuilding your house, or you would ask me to help find out who's shooting the Weres… someone who could have mistaken you for a Were. Who had you been with before you were shot?"
"I'd been to visit Calvin Norris."
Filthy shifters. Especially filthy in Hot Shot. "So you had his smell on you."
"Well, I gave him a hug goodbye, so yeah," she nodded, tucking some hair behind her ear.
"Had Alcide Herveaux been there?" Now that his bitch was dead, no doubt he would try to win Sookie. Let him try.
Again she nodded. "He came by the house site."
Jealousy, an emotion so foreign to him for so long that he didn't immediately recognize it, clawed at him. "Did he hug you, too?"
"I don't remember. It's no big deal."
It is for me. "It is for someone looking for shifters and Weres to shoot," he pointed out. "And you are hugging too many people."
She ignored that. "Maybe it was Claude's smell. Gosh, I didn't think of that. No, wait, Claude hugged me after the shooting, so I guess the fairy smell didn't matter."
A fairy? "A fairy." He licked his lips. "Come here, Sookie."
She turned her nose up at him. "No. I told you what you wanted, you did what I asked, and now you can go back to Shreveport and let me get some sleep." She lightly touched her injury. "Remember?"
No, I don't remember. I don't remember the feel of your body against mine, I don't remember the way you said my name when I moved in you, I don't remember feeling something so strongly that I wanted to give up everything for you, I don't remember hiding Debbie Pelt's car, I don't remember what made you the best I ever had.
He ran his tongue over his fangs. "Then I'll come to you." An instant later he was at her feet, his body against hers, his nose pressed to the curve of her neck. He was still wet with rain, but she didn't seem to mind. He smelled all of them on her, the three men who had touched her today. "You reek. You smell of shifter and Were and fairy. A cocktail of other races." Other men. He raised his head slightly until his mouth was next to her ear. Only an inch, and he could have her earlobe between his teeth. He closed his eyes. "Should I just bite you and end it all? I would never have to think about you again." If only it were that easy. He wasn't a fool. "Thinking about you is an annoying habit, and one I want to be rid of." The blood pounding through her neck was fast and strong, full of desire. She wanted him. "Or should I start arousing you?" he murmured, allowing his lips to brush the shell of her ear for less than a second, "and discover if sex with you was really the best I've ever had?" He knew which option he preferred, and he set about doing it.
Her voice caught in her throat, and she laid a hand on his chest. "Eric, we need to talk about something," she breathed.
"No," he said, kissing her temple. Then a spot on her neck, just below that delicious earlobe, called to him. "No." And then the earlobe itself… he kissed it, too. "No." Don't fight me, Sookie.
"Eric," she said again, and he knew that this time she was serious. "Someone's watching us."
Fuck. "Where?" he asked, his lips still brushing her ear.
Her desire was fading rapidly into fear. "It's a vampire," she whispered.
He slid his arms around her and held her to him, torn between his desire for her and his desire to rip off Mickey's head. No reason he couldn't do both. He smiled, even though he knew she couldn't see him. "You're so much trouble."
The hand she had placed on his chest to stop him before now curled as her fingers grasped his shirt. "Mickey…" she said, still in a whisper.
"Salome moved more quickly than I thought." He had to admire her efficiency. "He's too angry to obey her, I suppose. He's never been in here, correct?"
"Correct," she replied.
"Then he can't come inside."
She tightened her grip on his shirt. "But he can break the window--"
As if to prove her point, the window closest to them was shattered when a rock came hurtling through. Eric's head was still to the side of hers, and the rock slammed into his temple. He rocked back from Sookie slightly, dazed, then fell to her other side, in front of the chair. The room was spinning, but he held on to consciousness.
"Invite me in," Mickey snarled.
Eric struggled to focus his vision as Sookie knelt beside him. She was looking up and over the back of the chair. "Of course not," she said to the angry vampire outside.
"I'll kill her if you don't let me in."
So the bastard had Sookie's friend with him. Eric heard thunder and a woman's desperate cries. Blood. He needed blood. He grabbed Sookie's nearest arm with both hands.
She didn't look at him, but he knew she was talking to him. "Do it," she said under her breath.
No time to take pleasure in it for himself; no time to make it pleasant for her. He sank his fangs deep into her wrist and tore the flesh back a little. To her credit, Sookie barely flinched, and she held her wrist still as he sucked her blood desperately. Her sweet, rich blood.
"Let her go!" she demanded, glaring out at Mickey.
"I'll let her go when you let me in. How's your tame vamp doing?"
Eric growled low in his throat and sucked harder.
"He's still out. You hurt him bad." She looked down at him, her eyes full of genuine fear. A few more moments, my Sookie. "I can see his skull! He can't even open his eyes!" She was quite the actress, and he met her eyes in an effort to convey his pride in her. He could feel that she was about to pull her arm away.
Taking his mouth away from her torn skin, he rasped, "Not yet…"
But at the moment he spoke the words, Sookie was saying, "Fine, come in, just let her go!" She met his eyes again. "Oops."
Shit, he thought as he quickly sealed Sookie's ugly wound with his tongue. His body still wasn't obeying yet. Too much blood lost. He could only watch and listen helplessly as Mickey stormed in and dropped Sookie's friend on the glass-covered floor.
Sookie had risen slightly, bracing herself on the chair. "What do you want?"
"Your head, bitch. Get down on your knees to your betters!"
Mickey hit her hard, and Eric watched with enraged helplessness as she fell back against the sofa where he'd been sitting earlier. Then she sank to the floor in front of it. He barely heard her soft moan of pain. Mickey crossed the room like lightning and threw himself on top of her, his hand at the fly of his pants.
No, Eric thought, fury engulfing every other thought. NO.
Mickey was sneering down at Sookie as he tried to force her hands up over her head. "This is all you're good for!"
Eric blinked slowly and held on to his consciousness like a drowning man to a life raft. He felt the wound at his temple closing – about fucking time – and his head was clearing from the blood loss. Mickey had approximately one minute left to enjoy his undead life. It would ruin Eric's friendly relationship with Salome, but it was entirely worth it.
But Sookie had never been a damsel in distress. "No! No!" Her chest rose up from the floor as she breathed in deeply. "Your invitation is rescinded!"
And backwards Mickey went. Eric raised himself to his elbows as the other vampire tried to grab Tara on his way out, but Sookie had jumped up and thrown herself at her friend, holding on to her as Mickey was pulled out of the window and back into the rain. He vanished. For a moment the only sound was the storm outside, now louder because of the broken window. Then Sookie's breaths started coming in gasps. Her friend was still passed out.
Eric rose to his full height and looked down at Sookie. "That was clearer thinking than most humans can manage. How are you, Sookie?" He offered his hand to help her up, and she accepted it, though she didn't answer his question. "I myself am feeling much better." She still looked very shaken, so he smiled at her fondly. "I've had your blood without having to talk you into it, and I didn't have to fight Mickey. You did all the work."
"You got hit in the head with a rock."
"A small price to pay." He meant it. Now to tell Salome that her little boy had been naughty. He called her again, explained briefly, and repocketed his phone.
Sookie rubbed her hands briskly over her arms. "Salome'll catch him?"
He nodded. "And she can do things to him more painful than anything I could imagine, though I can imagine plenty right now." The thought of that fucker on top of Sookie…
"She's that… uh, creative?" she asked, eyes wide.
"He's hers," Eric replied simply. "She's his sire. She can do with him what she wishes. He can't disobey her and go unpunished. He has to go to her when she calls him, and she's calling."
A wry smile tipped the corners of her mouth. "Not on the phone, I take it?"
"No, she won't need a phone. He's trying to run away, but he'll go to her eventually." He retracted his fangs and glanced at the broken window. "The longer he holds out, the more severe his torture will be." His eyes found hers again. "Of course, that's as it should be."
Sookie shivered and knelt down by her friend, gingerly touching the angry wounds on Tara's neck. "Pam is yours, right?" she asked.
"Yes. She's free to leave when she wants, but she comes back when I let her know I need her help." In truth, Pam didn't want to be anywhere else. She had sounded delighted on the day he called her to join him in Shreveport.
At his feet, Tara was stirring and coming back to consciousness. Sookie touched her friend's cheek. "Wake up, girl. Tara?" She started to move away. "I'm gonna call an ambulance for you."
"No!" Tara grasped Sookie's arm. "No…"
"But you're bad hurt," Sookie protested.
Tara shook her head. Strands of her wet hair were plastered to her bloody face. "I can't go to the hospital. Everyone will know."
Oh, for fuck's sake.
"Everyone will know someone beat the shit out of you when you can't go to work for a couple of weeks, you idiot," Sookie said sternly.
"You can have some of my blood," he heard himself say. Where that came from, he didn't know. An impulse to help Sookie? An impulse to please her?
"No." Tara's face twisted with disgust. "I'd rather die."
The bitch clearly had no idea what she had just refused so rudely. If she hadn't been Sookie's friend…
"You might," Sookie told her. "Oh, but you've had blood from Franklin or Mickey."
No, Sookie, she hasn't. Vampires like Franklin and Mickey did not share their blood with humans – especially not humans as ordinary as Tara appeared to be. Did Sookie still not understand what it meant when he gave his blood to her? What it had meant just now for him to offer it to Tara?
He couldn't decide if Tara looked more repulsed or shocked at Sookie's assumption. "Of course not!"
"Then you have to go to the hospital," said Sookie resolutely. Tara shook her head again and began trying to sit up. Eric refused to help her. "I'm scared for you to move…"
She managed to prop herself against the wet wall like a rag doll while Eric continued to glare down at her. Because of this pathetic piece of trash, Sookie had almost been raped. She could have been killed.
Unable to bite back his anger any longer, he said, "Tara, listen to me. Your greed and selfishness put my..." What was she, exactly? His…? Simply his. Everything. "My friend Sookie in danger. You say you're her friend, too, but you don't act like it."
Sookie's mouth gaped, and he felt her anger. "Eric," she hissed, "this isn't any of your business."
This is entirely my business. You are my business. He tried to force down some of his rage; if he didn't, he would hurt Tara and only further upset Sookie. "You called me and asked me for my help," he pointed out. "That makes it my business. I called Salome and told her what her child was doing, and she's taken him away to punish him for it." His voice had been building, and he evened it. He would not take this out on her. "Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked, more gently.
She sighed. "Yes."
"Then I'm going to make my point with Tara." Once again he focused his attention on the wet, bleeding, pitiful woman. He tried to see her as Sookie saw her: a friend worth risking her life for. He couldn't see it. His voice when he addressed her, though, was calmer. "Do you understand me?"
Tara nodded, and Sookie jumped to her feet. "I'm getting some ice for your throat," she said.
While she was gone, Eric quickly examined Tara to see if she actually needed the hospital or his blood. She did not. Now for that broken window, which was much more important. Once again he took out his cell phone. There was only one number to dial, and that was the vampire who was closest and most willing to help.
"Eric?" Bill answered.
"Yes. I want you at Sookie's new apartment immediately. We need to board up a broken window."
"Is she hurt?"
"Would I be talking to you if she were?" Eric asked, watching as Sookie offered the bag of ice to Tara.
"I'll be right there."
They hung up at the same time, and Eric shoved the phone back in his pocket. Sookie and Tara were still arguing about the hospital. "She'll heal without going to the hospital," he assured her with a wave of his hand.
"But will she have some permanent damage?" Sookie fretted as she looked back and forth between them. "Something doctors could fix if she got to them quick?"
He shook his head. "I'm fairly certain that her throat is only badly bruised. She has some broken ribs from the beating, possibly some loose teeth. Mickey could have broken her jaw and her neck very easily, you know. He probably wanted her to be able to talk to you when he brought her here, so he held back a little. He counted on you panicking and letting him in." He counted on you trying to save your friend when I explicitly told you not to. "He didn't think you could gather your thoughts so quickly. If I'd been him, my first move would have been to damage your mouth or neck so you couldn't rescind my entrance. When he backhanded you, I think that was what he was aiming for."
Judging by Sookie's pale face, she was taken aback by his frank explanation of Mickey's plan… no, she was taken aback that all of this seemed obvious and logical to him. I am what I am. He was about to reach for her, but she disappeared and reappeared with a broom and dustpan, both of which she shoved into his hands. She expected him to… sweep? He raised an eyebrow at her.
She began dabbing a washcloth over Tara's forehead. "Sweep up," she told him after he had stood there for a few long seconds.
His body started to obey her before his mind had fully processed that he was, in fact, performing a menial chore at the command of a human. By the time his mind did catch up, he was surprised to realize that it didn't particularly bother him. He placed the dustpan in the middle of the floor and began pushing shards of glass towards it. But the fucking thing kept moving backwards. He couldn't hold the pan still and sweep at the same time because he was too tall. Sookie had helped Tara to her feet, sending a small shower of glass over an area he had just swept. Well, fuck.
The two women started hobbling away, but Sookie was too sore and weak to hold up Tara. In a flash, he abandoned the sweeping farce and scooped Tara into his arms. Since he was in control of this, Tara would most certainly not be sleeping in Sookie's bed. The couch was good enough for her. Too good. He set her down carefully and glared across the room at Sookie when he saw that she was about to argue. She wisely decided against it and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned with medicine for Tara, and the latter was asleep in no time at all.
Bill would be arriving at any time, so Eric grinned as he passed the sweeping job back to Sookie. He paced as she swept the rest of the glass shards, distracting himself with memories of Dallas and the glass he had removed from her arm. There was Bill; Eric heard him tromping noisily to the door with the supplies. He opened the door before Sookie had even realized someone was there. Bill entered after Sookie gave him the necessary invitation, and Eric helped him board up the broken window. They had nothing to say to each other. Sookie was just as quiet as she started to mop the floor.
Suddenly, for no reason at all, Sookie covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. "This is amusing?" Bill asked with a confused frown.
Eric cocked his head to the side as she looked from Bill to him and laughed louder. "We are amusing?"
She nodded and doubled over, still looking back and forth between them. If she had to fall into hysteria, which was certainly understandable, at least it was laughter instead of sobbing. She had been through enough today, and it was time for her to rest.
"Sookie," he said, giving her a significant look, "we haven't finished our discussion."
She shook her head. "Oh, yes, we have. I asked you for a favor: releasing Tara from her bondage to Mickey. You asked me for payment for that favor: telling you what happened when you lost your memory. You performed your side of the bargain, and so did I. Bought and paid for. The end."
It wasn't often that someone could strike him dumb, but here he was, unable to respond. Bill had stiffened beside him; did he know, then, what Sookie had revealed earlier? Sookie gave one last laugh and leaned forward slightly on the mop. Bloody, muddy water seeped out onto the floor. Her little manic episode had passed, replaced by weariness.
"Good night, both of you," she told them in a voice that was both soft and firm. "Thanks, Eric, for taking that rock in the head, and for sticking to your phone throughout the evening." That's it? "Thanks, Bill, for turning out so late with window repair supplies. I appreciate it, even if you got volunteered by Eric." She made one last swipe with the mop and set it down in the bucket with a slosh. "Shoo," she said, waving her hands at them as if they were chickens. "I have to go to bed. I'm all worn out."
"Shouldn't one of us stay here with you tonight?" Bill asked, obviously hoping to be the one.
She shook her head. "I think I'll be fine. Eric assures me that Salome will scoop up Mickey in no time, and I need sleep more than anything." She attempted a smile, but it collapsed. "I appreciate both of you coming out tonight."
Eric stepped up to her and bent to kiss her forehead. He stayed outside the small apartment for several more hours, listening to the drip, drip of wet leaves. Satisfied that she was safe from Mickey, he flew back to Shreveport shortly before dawn.