A/N: I'm so siked with all the positive feedback this Fic is getting. My goal is to beak 2,000 reviews and my promise to all of you for helping me get there, is updating daily, deal? Great, reading below means we have a deal. It was sealed with a pinky swear so yeah...it's mundo serious.

Chapter 5

Coming Undone

All I needed to forget the fairy was to have another woman who either looked or tasted just like her or something that was the opposite but better. A week passed and I got neither. As a precaution, I diluted the fairy's blood from my veins with that of other women and even bottled blood, to keep myself from doing something stupid. Oh, like say...tracking her down and running into her accidentally on purpose.

Dreaming for my species wasn't unheard of, it was just extremely rare. For the most part vampires didn't technically sleep, we died during the day. My desire was so strong, I joined the club of dreamers. In my dreams Sookie haunted me. I saw her; I felt the weight of her body, the soft timbre of her moans, the feel of her fingers, and her lips on my skin. The dreams I had were so vivid that I woke unable to believe she wasn't lying on top of me.

Eternity stopped being about time and the rise and fall of dynasties or empires. I'd stripped away the idiosyncrasies of time and simply reduced it to nothing but my target and me. There was nothing that engaged me quite as thoroughly as the hunt. When the centuries had bled together, the hunt had kept me focused. In some eras, when it felt like I blinked and decades passed, the hunt helped center me. That was what I needed now.

I left California and went to visit my sister in Louisiana. I wanted to travel like all vampires did in the old days, feeding off the hoof and finding shelter in crypts or in the ground during the day. During the night, I moved on my own power. It was freeing. It took me a few days but I finally felt the ties that bound me to my little pain in the ass sister.

The sound of water running covered my approach. I grinned. It was a great time to pick up where we left off and I owed Pam one. Flying to her bathroom window, I caught sight of her showering. I waited until she was rinsing shampoo from her hair then I struck.

"Boo," I yelled, banging on the outside her bathroom window. Pam yelped and got soap in her eye. I doubled over laughing. Some things never got old, like scaring the shit out of your little sister.

"Asshole," she said, rinsing the suds from her eyes. "Normal people use the door."

I laughed and let myself into her house. It was nice, but I shouldn't expect anything less from the sheriff of the area. Last, I checked, Pam didn't do monogamy and she didn't like to share her space. It appeared she was doing both. I caught the scent of a human, but it could have been a servant of a favorite pet of hers.

My sister dressed, sped down the stairs, and crashed into my arms. "Eric," she said, wrapping her arms around me. "I have missed you, you bastard."

"And I you," I murmured.

Over the years, we kept in touch through letters, phone, and email. It has been ages since I held her in my arms. I set her down and actually looked at her. My sister preferred pink and pastels and all things frilly and feminine. Nothing explained why she was wearing a plastic dress. I could see every curve of her lithe body and every breath she didn't take.

My brow arched in question. "Is this like the Robin Hood phase?" I asked confused.

She waved her hand to dismiss my question. "A girl has to eat."

"A girl should consider going hungry," I teased.

She slapped me upside the back of my head. I caught her hand and tickled her palm. She had forever hated that. As most siblings did, we quickly forgot about our squabble. When Pam began telling me about her bar, her ensemble made more sense. Fangtasia, was a vampire bar that was geared to provide humans with the undead experience. I followed Pam there and the scene was cheesy for lack of a better word, but the humans flocked as if awed. Their misplaced adoration about the undead meant that business was good.

They offered their blood and their bodies fervently and paid a fee to do so. They bought merchandise and imitated a life they wouldn't ever be inducted into, not while they were still alive. All my sister was doing was profiting off their ignorance and curiosity. What she was wearing was part of the illusion she was selling. She blended into the scene of her club. Most of the people present were dressed in black, leather, and nothing much in between. The scene was nothing like how the typical vampire lived. We wore back to blend into the night. We lurked in clubs for easy meals, but I have never seen a vampire just hanging about with their fangs exposed.

I told myself that I wasn't waiting for my mysterious stranger in Pam's area. After all, I had planned to spend some time with my sister before my next case. That was all this was. Pam's bar was a place to get an abundance of blood. In the month that I'd been residing in my sister's area and frequenting her club I'd gathered a following, which by the way, annoyed the shit out of me. I hissed and snarled and bared my fangs in warning and they only came nearer. Five hundred years ago, they would have ran then gathered their torches and pitch forks while shouting, 'Kill the beast. Now, it only excited them.

I didn't remember many of them after getting blood. I fed because I absolutely had to. I didn't register their scent because it was nothing special. It was nothing like a taste of fairy. Physically none of them fit the mold of what I desired, so nothing eased the tension in my loins, believe me, I tried and I couldn't get aroused enough to reach half mast.

"You're doing that thing," Pam said, as I helped her close her bar for the night.

I rolled my eyes. "What thing?" I asked, knowing full well what she was talking about.

"You are itching for the road," she said, pointing at my hand. While my left hand had been helping her with her books, my right was twirling my blade across my knuckles.

"It's my old age," I told her. "I can't be in one place too long."

She scoffed. "Godric is a thousand years older and his address hasn't changed in two hundred years."

"So maybe I'm not old enough to settle," I supplied.

"I'm eight hundred years your junior and I've settled. You could stay here with me," she said seriously. "It will be like the old days. I am sheriff; you would have free rein and security here."

"Is this because you want me to do your math?" I said, passing her the nightly bank receipts.

She laughed. "Am I that obvious?" she wondered.

I rolled my eyes and followed her out of the bar. However, Pam didn't return to her home with me. She had a human pet she going to see. It wasn't until an hour before dawn did she return. She smelled like sex and blood, and she was sated. I've been glutting myself on one and starving for the other because I couldn't get the taste of one human out of my mind. It was so bad that I was missing the Old Bat.

I shook the utterly asinine thought aside. Hell, all Sookie knew was my name which she had probably forgotten by now. I remembered hers because she was the first 'Sookie' I ever met, if that was her real name. Eric was common enough, she had probably forgotten it and I should return the favor. I should have drained her I thought, annoyed with myself. It would have saved me the trouble of wondering what man she was keeping warm tonight.

It was an act of mercy that I heard from an investigator/handler of the Enforcers. Bill Compton was like Sherlock Holmes who was missing a Watson. He followed the rules to the point that it clouded his common sense. I never liked him and I knew that I never would. I did have to tolerate him for the next three hundred years or so. I sincerely hoped he wouldn't live that long. He annoyed the ever-loving shit out of me.

Normally I ignored him when he called to assign my cases. After I'd racked up a dozen cases in my log, he reported me to the Pythoness and then she would come looking for me. In return for turning me in, I created a greeting on my work phone just for him. After the last ring, this is what he heard every time he called, 'Dear Bill, the south will never rise again, get over it. Also feel free to fuck off after the beep.'

This time I needed the distraction so I took Bill's call. When I answered, he didn't seem to know how to proceed.

"I have a case," he began.

"You don't say?" I replied sarcastically. "Here I was thinking you called just to tickle my balls with your southern charm."

"You might find this interesting," he said, ignoring my jab.

"When, where and what time?" I asked.

"Tomorrow," he answered "Jackson, Mississippi at the Hillside Motel, at 11."

I couldn't get packed fast enough. Whatever this assignment might be, I hoped it pulled me far away and took a great deal of time because I was acting like a real bitch. Pining after anyone wasn't something I did. As long as I've been alive, I learned to let go of worldly things. Being as ephemeral as they were I'd added humans to that category. It didn't matter how delicious she was, Sookie was now on that roster.

I was early for my meeting and I watched Bill enter the room but he wasn't alone. He had four human men with him. By the scent of gunpowder coming off them, the way they moved, it was obvious they were law enforcement. The lack of uniforms said they were higher up on the food chain. This must have been what the Pythoness had been referring to when she said we were diversifying.

Interestingly as they all filed into the room, I followed behind them. I could have snapped their necks before they drew their weapons. I ignored the guns and the itchy trigger fingers. The smell of silver was emitting from the butt of their weapons.

"Skittish?" I asked Bill. "Aren't they?"

"Eric," he greeted curtly.

"Lieutenant," I replied with a grin. It wasn't that I was singling him out, it was the fact that there was a stake up his ass that made things worse for him.

"That's a great way to get yourself shot," one of the humans said, holstering his weapon.

"Maybe I want you to shoot me so I can feed you your beating heart," I added innocently.

"He's joking…" Bill said, entering the room. "You can put the guns away."

I laughed as I followed them inside. His words had told them I was joking, but not really. Silver or no, the only thing shooting me would do was piss me off.

"Welcome," The human in charge said. "I am Agent Michael Lattesta, F.B.I." The three others against the wall had their hands on their hips in close range of their guns. While they had heeded Bill's warning, they still didn't trust the situation. It was wise of them.

"From left to right," he continued. "Meet Agent Courtland Colt from the D.E.A. Next to him is Bryce Newman, A.T.F. Police, and last, but not least, is our liaison from the D.O.D, Agent Zach Goodwin."

"That is a lot of acronyms," I observed blandly. "Any particular reason why I have to learn them all at once?"

"They are a special task force geared to take down a crime syndicate," Bill said. "The Pythoness favors them and seeks to aid their cause."

I was sure the Old Bat was charging them through the nose for it too. By the look on his face, this pleased Bill. He has forever had a hard on for saving the humans. I didn't see why. If someone supernatural wasn't killing them, then they were killing themselves. They were also utterly helpless, especially the ones in charge. It was one of the drawbacks of the modern age and technological advancements. When it failed, most people didn't know what to do. This was most likely going to be some elusive shadow they couldn't pin down because he didn't have an email address or a phone.

"Your target," Agent Lattesta said.

I looked up and the look on my face was so cold the other agents drew their weapons, again. "My target will be you if you assume anything else about me." I said calmly. There was a coy smile on my face, but I was ready to rip his fucking arm off and beat him over the head with it.

"I can only guarantee your safety, if you do as I say," Bill ordered.

He flashed to shield me and not them. Unlike the humans, he knew how much danger they were in if they didn't back down. It didn't matter to me one way or the other what they did or how they played their hands. Actions had consequences. I was just waiting to administer them.

"Shooting him will harm your cause and it will do nothing for your overall good health." he advised.

Agent Lattesta found his composure. He waved his hand, the others dropped their arms, resumed nonthreatening stances; at least in their opinion they had been a threat to begin with.

"Our target," he admitted,"…we don't know much."

Okay. This was interesting, but no one in their position could have entirely nothing good to offer. "What do you know?" I asked, "Is he black or white? Is he prone to acts of random violence, is there a profile?"

"We don't know any of that," he said.

His face gave nothing away but I heard him grind his teeth. Clearly reaching out to the undead was a last ditch effort for him.

"We have been chasing a shadow. There is no face, no name; we call them "The Outfit." They tie loose ends and we're always a step behind. We don't get a bead on them until they're gone."

"You have wasted your time," I told them honestly. Which was nothing, it was a pity. It seemed like an interesting chase that could offer multiple targets but I couldn't help them. "I need a face, a name, a place, or an alias, anything more than what you have." I rose to my feet ready to depart.

"Wait," Agent Latestta said, reaching after me. By the slight inflection of his voice, I knew he was desperate. "We might have someone who is affiliated or victimized by them. We can't say for sure that she's even alive."

That wasn't a problem. If she was dead, I could verify it, lead them to a grave and a corpse. If she were alive, then I would give them a lead in their case. "Go on," I prompted.

"It is the agencies' belief that she is possibly other," he said. "Not vampire, at least since her last and single arrest."

Since vampires came out of the closet, it wasn't a far jump for an intelligent mind to make. If vampires were real, then what else went bump in the night? Wouldn't he like to know? The truth was there were countless species of the supernatural that shared this world. I couldn't out anyone who didn't want to reveal their presence.

When it came to procreation, humans had the most amenable genetics. They could breed with just about anything. The pain in my ass was the product of those unions often enjoyed the best of both worlds. It made it hard to pin them down and contain them. This one might be one-part human but mixed with something else, anything else.

For example, elves were deathly allergic to sky metal or meteors. If they bred with a human, that child could use sky metal for a toy but be allergic to peanuts. It was impossible to account for all the variables when dealing with half-breeds. Still, for the most part, all supernatural creatures kept a low profile; no one wanted a repeat of the Salem witch trials.

There was always a governing body that did an excellent job of policing their own. It was for the greater good. The fact that one might have been raising hell for so long without sanction left me a bit baffled. That was part of the reason, but I also knew the complexities of this would succeed in taking my mind off that damn woman.

"When was the last sighting?" I wondered.

"Twelve years ago," the agent replied, sliding a thick folder my way. "She was kid, eleven, thirteen, at the most. She set fire to a small laboratory just outside of Vermont, in which sixteen people died. 'They'll get me.' That was all she said, during arrest, during trial. That was all she said."

"How did you lose her?" I wondered.

"She was deemed incompetent for trial and was sentenced to a psychiatric hospital. The officers that were supposed to hand her over never made it there. All traces of her were lost. Some believe she was killed by the very people she was afraid of. Other's believed she was a victim of sex trafficking and was forced to commit the crime."

His tone made me look up from the folder. "What do you believe?" He clearly didn't agree with that theory.

"I was a rookie and I saw this kid play them all. She was as cold as you are and twice as deadly because no one wanted to believe a child can kill." As he spoke he pulled out his laptop computer, and began typing furiously. "If ever she had a soul, it was long gone. She is was killer, plain, and simple."

Then he turned the monitor so it faced me. The image left me feeling like I was hallucinating. It was her. The same face and eyes that had been frequenting my waking and dreaming moments was on the screen. I blinked, hoping the image would fade like all the other dreams had, but it didn't. Unlike the woman I'd spent the weekend with, this was the child she'd been. She was indeed as soulless and dead as me. The only difference was she had to draw breath.

"No," I said, almost stumbling to the door. "Find someone else. I…I don't hunt women."

A/N: Come on, put away the torches and the pitch forks. That technically doesn't count as a cliffie but you have to admit that was an interesting twist.