This is a short chapter, but it brings us to the end of Book 5. Next up is Book 6, which won't be a happy one. :(

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He tried to contact Charles the following night, intending to demand an explanation for why the useless pirate had failed yet again to protect Sookie. There was no answer. Frowning, he tapped an ink pen on his desk as he thought. Russell Edgington had told him next to nothing about Charles, and the folder of angry emails from Hot Rain, the fire at Sookie's house, the recent shootings… He dialed Bill Compton.

"Hello, Eric," Bill answered. He was polite, but there was an edge to his voice.

"Bill, I want you to look up a vampire in your database. Charles. Is he there now?"

"No, he's working at the bar."

"I want to know as much of his history as you can find – especially if that history connects him in any way with a vampire named Hot Rain."

"You mean Long Shadow's sire?"

"The very one."

"I'll do my best." Bill hesitated. "Does this have anything to do with what happened to Sookie?"

Pam had walked in and shut the door behind her, and Eric motioned for her to wait. "That's what I'm trying to find out," he told Bill. "And as soon as possible."

"Of course. I'll call you back when I know something."

Eric hung up the phone and smiled at Pam, who was practically bursting with glee. "I'm almost afraid to ask…" he said with a short laugh.

She walked around his desk and perched on top of it to face him. "You said to come up with a new product, and have I ever got one." He matched her grin with one of his own, raising an eyebrow for her to continue. "A vampire calendar," she went on. "Fangtasia's Vampire Hunks. You would be in it, and Chow, and maybe Bill, and Charles. I was thinking a nude calendar, but maybe not totally nude, you know, or some of the tourists will be too prudish to buy it. What do you think?"

"You expect me to pose semi-nude in a calendar?" he asked, leaning back in his chair until it creaked.

"Yes, I do, Mr. January."

He laughed aloud at that. "Why not February for Valentine's Day? Or December for Yule? Save the best for last."

"I think the area's best…" - she paused to give him a positively wicked smirk – "…assets should be on display at the front of the calendar."

"Am I mistaken, or did you just refer to me, the Sheriff of Area 5, as an asset?"

She jumped off the desk and opened the office door, then looked back over her shoulder. "Just part of you."

The phone rang just as she shut the door behind her, and he pounced on it. "Bill?"

"This is the office of Queen Sophie-Anne Leclerq calling for Eric Northman," said a formal male voice on the other line.

"Speaking."

"There is to be a summit of leaders of the Southern states in March, precise dates and location still to be announced, at which the Queen desires your presence."

Eric made a face which the caller, fortunately, could not see. "I am at the Queen's disposal," he said. "Am I required to bring anyone with me? My second, perhaps, or other prominent vampires in the area?"

"You will be informed of that at a later date." The voice obviously didn't give a shit.

"Very well. The Queen can be certain of my attendance."

* * *

Bill didn't call back that night or the next, and Eric was holding on to his last shreds of patience. On the third night, at last, the phone call came.

"I don't think you're going to like this," Bill said.

"I don't like most things you say, Bill. Continue."

"I've learned most of his history, but none of that's important. You asked me to find a possible connection to Hot Rain. Twining is actually pledged to Hot Rain."

"Shit. Fuck."

"Twining's maker was the child of Hot Rain. When his maker died in the French and Indian War, he pledged himself to Hot Rain."

"Are you anywhere near Bon Temps?"

"I'm in Monroe tonight to--"

Eric hung up on him and dialed Merlotte's. Charles answered. Fuck. He slammed the phone down and practically flew to his office door. "Bubba!" he called out into the bar. Bubba lumbered over from where he'd been chatting with Pam. "Go to Bon Temps immediately and tell Sookie that he's not what he seems. Understand? Tell her he's a hit man."

"Who, Mr. Eric?"

"She'll know." Bubba could never be given too much information.

The phone call to Hot Rain was one of the least pleasant things he'd had to do in his long life. He demanded an explanation and promised payment. When the conversation ended, he felt as though Mickey had thrown another rock at his head. Sookie had been targeted because of him. Sookie had been targeted because her death was understood to be the thing that would hurt him more than anything else. He couldn't discern what troubled him more: the assumption on Hot Rain's part or the fact that it was true.

Bubba ambled in soon after Eric finished with Hot Rain. "I gave her the message, but I don't think she understood, Mr. Eric," he said.

He shot up from his desk chair. "What do you mean she didn't understand?"

"I--"

Without waiting to hear the rest, he raced out of his office through the back door and flew to Bon Temps. Once inside Merlotte's, he looked wildly around for Sookie. There she was. He silently thanked every god he didn't believe in as he grabbed her by the waist.

"Sookie, are you all right?" She winced and recoiled, and he loosened his hands. "You're hurt." Some of the bar patrons were standing around him and Sookie in a protective arc, but he ignored them.

She forced a smile. "I'm just sore. Everything's fine." She looked around at the men standing guard. "This here's my friend Eric. He's been trying to get in touch with me, and now I know why it was so urgent." After reassuring each one of her defenders with a significant look, she turned back to him. "Let's us go sit and talk."

"Where is he?" he demanded. "I will stake the bastard myself, no matter what Hot Rain sends against me."

"It's been taken care of. Will you chill?"

He bit his tongue to keep himself from telling her that no, he would not chill. He clenched and unclenched his fists while she asked Sam if they could sit in his office. By the time they reached the small, cluttered room, he had calmed. Sookie was quiet, clearly waiting for an explanation, and he gave it.

"Why would killing me cancel the debt?" she asked.

He could lie.

No, he thought, looking into her eyes. He could not lie to her. He didn't even want to.

He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. "Because he decided after listening to gossip and much reconnoitering that you were… important to me, and that your death would wound me the way Long Shadow's had him."

Do you understand what I'm telling you, Sookie?

"Ah." She swallowed and looked away. He saw various emotions play across her face before she faced him again. "So Hot Rain and Long Shadow were doing the deed, once upon a time?"

No, you don't understand.

"Yes," he acknowledged, "but it wasn't the sexual connection. It was the…" Whatever the fuck it is that I feel for you, you maddening woman. "The… affection. That was the valuable part of the bond."

If she finally understood what he was telling her, she gave no sign of it. "So because this Hot Rain decided the fine you paid him for Long Shadow's death just didn't give him closure, he sent Charles to do something equally painful to you."

"Yes," he nodded.

"And Charles got to Shreveport, kept his ears open, found out about me, decided my death would fill the bill." She looked nonplussed.

"Apparently."

"So he heard about the shootings, knew Sam is a shifter, and shot Sam so there'd be a good reason for him to come to Bon Temps."

"Yes."

She crossed her arms and frowned. "That's real, real complicated. Why didn't Charles just jump me some night?"

Humans were often so blind to the very necessary precautions that vampires had to take to avoid being scapegoated, hunted down, or even staked. "Because he wanted it to look like an accident," he explained. "He didn't want blame attached to a vampire at all, because not only did he not want to get caught, he didn't want Hot Rain to incur any penalty."

"He set fire to my house, not that poor Marriot guy," she said, more to herself than to him. "I bet Charles killed him before the bar even closed that night and brought him back to my house so he'd take the blame. After all, the guy was a stranger to Bon Temps. No one would miss him." Her hand suddenly flew to her mouth. "Oh my God! Charles borrowed my keys! I bet the man was in my trunk! Not dead, but hypnotized." Eric watched her pace a few steps away. "Charles planted that card in the guy's pocket." She shook her head. "The poor fella wasn't a member of the Fellowship of the Sun anymore than I am."

A few of the men from the bar walked by to check on Sookie – not very subtly. He was pleased to see that the locals looked out for her, but they annoyed him nonetheless.

"It must have been frustrating for Charles when he found you were surrounded by friends."

"Yes," she said, smiling, "must have been."

He was surprised by how relaxed and light she seemed. She had, after all, nearly been killed. Had she grown so accustomed to her life being in danger? He knew he should be happy that she was so resilient, but the thought of her becoming numb to such terrible experiences troubled him.

"You seem better than I expected. Less traumatized, as they say now."

She leaned back against Sam's desk and sighed. "Eric, I'm a lucky woman. Today I've seen more bad stuff than you can imagine. All I can think is, I escaped." She gave him a half-hearted smile. "By the way, Shreveport now has a new packmaster, and he's a lying, cheating bastard."

Fighting the urge to reply that all Weres were bastards, he gave a more judicious response. "Then I take it Jackson Herveaux lost his bid for the job." As much as he could be expected to respect an animal, he respected the Herveaux family. Sookie's shifter boss had also earned his begrudging respect.

"Lost more than that," Sookie said softly, her face going a little white.

"So the contest was today. I'd heard Quinn was in town. Usually he keeps transgressions to a minimum."

"It wasn't his choice. A vote went against Jackson. It should have helped him, but it didn't." She looked away from him and closed her eyes.

Fuck, did that mean… "Why were you there?" he demanded. "Was that blasted Alcide trying to use you for some purpose in the contest?"

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "You should talk about using."

"Yes," he said, rather wounded, "but I'm straightforward about it." I don't lie to you.

"True."

As much as he liked to see her laugh, there was still the matter of Charles. "So, I'm to understand that Charles Twining is no more?" He had made amends with Hot Rain, but this would cost him even more. No need to tell her that. If the good citizens of Bon Temps hadn't staked the fucker, he would have done it himself.

"That's correct," she said.

"Well, well." He grinned. "The people here are unexpectedly enterprising. What damage have you suffered?"

She touched her side and winced. "Broken rib."

"A broken rib is not much when a vampire is fighting for his life," he told her admiringly.

"Correct again."

For a moment he considered offering her his blood, but he knew quite well that she would refuse. Their business here seemed to be done. "When Bubba got back and I found he hadn't exactly delivered his message, I rushed here gallantly to rescue you." He smiled ruefully. "I had tried calling the bar tonight to tell you to beware, but Charles answered the phone every time."

"It was gallant of you in the extreme, but, as it turns out, unnecessary," she said. There was an undeniable fondness in the way she looked at him, even if she was teasing.

"Well, then." He braced his arms on the side of his chair and leaned forward. "I'll go back to my own bar and look at my own bar patrons from my own office." He was about to stand when he remembered something else he could talk to her about, and he grinned. "We're expanding our Fangtasia product line."

"Oh?"

"Yes." His grin widened even more. "What would you think of a nude calendar?" Her eyebrows shot up, and her face flooded with delicious color. "Fangtasia's Vampire Hunks is what Pam thinks it should be called."

She returned his smile. "Are you gonna be in it?"

"Oh, of course. Mr. January."

"Well," she said, laughing, "put me down for three. I'll give one to Arlene and one to Tara, and I'll put one up on my own wall."

"If you promise to keep it open to my picture, I'll give you one for free." He winked at her.

"You got a deal."

He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. Something else… anything else… "One more thing before I go." She stopped leaning on the desk and stood facing him, waiting. "I may need to hire you in early March."

"I'll check my calendar," she said with a hint of sarcasm. "What's up?"

"There's going to be a little summit," he replied. "A meeting of the kings and queens of some of the Southern states. The location hasn't been settled, but when it is, I wonder if you can get time off from your job here to accompany me and my people."

She shook her head and looked suddenly tired. "I can't think that far ahead just at the moment, Eric."

She took a few steps towards the door, but he didn't want to let her go. "Wait one moment."

He dashed in front of her and looked down into her face. It was impossible not to kiss her, so he did, briefly and gently. Why are you my heart's desire? he wanted to ask her, as if she could possibly know the answer to that question. Why do I want you? Why do I crave not only your blood and your body but your presence, your conversation, your time? What made you the best I ever had?

"You said I told you you were the best I'd ever had." He touched her neck, allowing his fingertips to drift over her skin. "But did you respond in kind?"

With one arched eyebrow, she slipped past him. "Don't you wish you knew?"

He followed her out of the office, back into the bar, and stared after her. When she turned to look at him, there were tears in her eyes. Apparently, remembering was no easier than forgetting.