Chapter Eighteen:

Henley was surprised when Eric shoved her through another door and into an office. She had been certain she was going to be thrown back onto the cold hard ground and surrounded by darkness. But instead, she was pushed down onto a leather chair and watched as Eric strode around the desk and settled himself across from her. The look of boredom on his face unnerved her. He knew exactly what he was doing, his gaze on her fidgeting hands in her lap. She could have sworn his lips twitched upwards into a smirk, but it was masked seconds later.

"Are you going to kill me?" her voice was raspy, and with every word, her throat burned.

Eric's eyebrow rose as he leaned back, his elbows resting on the arms of the leather chair as he clasped his hands together. "Now why would you think that, Miss…" He leaned forward, his orbs sweeping over an open file laid out across his desk. "Martin."

She stared at the file that was just out of reach. He had done his homework, and that worried her. What had he been able to dig up about her? She was sure there were some interesting accounts of her oddities over the years.

"You tried to kill me once already," Henley swallowed hard, trying to keep herself calm. She squeezed her hands together in order to keep her hands still, but her knees began shaking instead. She would not be calm until she was safe and sound from this nightmare, and she wasn't even sure that was ever going to be possible.

"Ah, but you shouldn't hold a grudge," Eric leaned back once again, a smirk appearing on his lip and remaining there as his gaze swept over her. "I didn't realize just how…intriguing you really are."

"I'm not all that interesting," Henley insisted.

"Don't sell yourself short, Miss. Martin."

She risked a glance up at him and her heart stopped for a single second. Henley wasn't sure if she would rather him want to kill her without knowing what she was able to do, or to be alive, but at the mercy of this obviously thrilled vampire at what treasure he had discovered.

Where the hell was Godric?

"Now," he snatched the file from the desk, his eyes scanning the pages inside. "These are some…interesting accounts. Quite a few believe your crazy. One – now this one is my personal favourite – even believes you are the anti-Christ."

Henley remembered the mother of her former best friend all too well. She had only been eight at the time, and mistakenly speaking with the dead. She was so young; she hadn't realized what was happening to her. But the moment that woman had witnessed her strange behaviour, she had all but thrown her out of the house and forbid her daughter from ever laying eyes on her again. Henley's own mother was outraged at the woman, but it hadn't changed anything. Her friend's family moved away a few years later, and she had always known it was due to her.

"Served a stint in a mental hospital, as well. Now that is very telling, don't you think?" Eric's smirk grew, shooting her a glance overtop of the file. "Are you crazy, Miss. Martin?"

She was caught between wanting to yell at him and burst into tears. Henley had always hated that word.

She wasn't crazy.

"Have I struck a nerve?"

"What do you want from me?" she refused to look at him, instead her gaze falling to her lap as she tried to keep her emotions at bay.

"I want to know who you are, Miss. Martin. I want to know why some witch is threatening me and harming my progeny, merely because she was protecting some blood bag. I want to know why you know the name of my maker," his eyes narrowed into slits, the amusement vanishing. "I have quite a lot of questions. Perhaps you should begin answering them. Before I kill you."

"I can't," she murmured.

"Well then, I suppose I lied," he was out of his chair and before her in only a blink of an eye.

Henley gasped in surprise, her eyes growing wide at his sudden appearance before her. She was used to vampires appearing at all hours of the day. There was never any warning. But they were always transparent, always harmless. This was instead a ferocious vampire. One that happened to be asking her questions she wasn't sure she could answer.

"How do you know Godric?" Eric grasped onto her chin sharply, jostling until her gaze met his. "How do you know that name?"

She could feel the haze slowly consume her and she quickly squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn't going to let him glamour her again. She couldn't. What would he do if he knew the truth? How would he even believe her?

Eric snickered at her attempt to shield herself from his forceful will. "Come now, sweetheart, don't be shy. I won't bite. Tell me what I want to know and I won't have to hurt you."

"You'll kill me anyways," Henley knew no matter what that she would likely not be leaving this office. The only proof she could offer him, if he didn't immediately rip her throat out, was for Godric to finally appear. But she had a feeling he wouldn't be popping up anytime soon.

"But I'll make it much quicker if you cooperate," he traced a finger along her jaw. "I don't want to have to bring harm to such beautiful skin."

She wanted to vomit, flinching away from his touch.

"Just tell me how you know him, Miss. Martin. It will be much less painful if you told me what I want to know."

"You won't believe me."

"Try me."

"I can't."

A low growl rumbled from the Viking as his fangs suddenly extended with a sharp click. Her heart started racing the moment she spied those razor sharp incisors, a deep sinking feeling telling her she was likely going to die from those fangs.

"I am so tired," his thumb fell to where her pulsing vein lay beneath her throat. "Of humans thinking they can harm my family," Eric licked his lips as her blood bubbled in fear.

"I-I…" her voice wavered, her hands clutching onto her knees in a desperate attempt to not claw herself free. "I never…"

Eric lifted her tangled locks off her shoulder, lowering his fangs until they were grazing along the curve of her neck. "For some reason, my children think you are important enough to be guarded. My youngest was harmed protecting you. Seeing my blood harmed does not make me happy, Miss. Martin."

"I never meant…"

"No," he hissed in her ear, nipping at her earlobe. "You humans never mean to do much of anything. And yet you kill my kind without a single ounce of remorse."

The anger was radiated off of him as he grabbed the back of her neck roughly, forming her head back.

"You will tell me what I want to know, or else I will kill you as slowly and painfully as I wish. And I will thoroughly enjoy myself," he threatened, leaning back to catch her gaze. "Are you going to cooperate with me, Miss. Martin? Or am I going to have a bit of fun?"

She didn't want to die. Henley was more certain now than ever that she did not want to die.

She hurriedly nodded.

"Good girl," the smirk slid back across his lips as he suddenly released her and appeared once again behind the desk. "You have five minutes."

Henley couldn't breathe. She stared at Eric with wide eyes, utterly speechless. Five minutes. She had five minutes to prove to Eric not to kill her.

How the hell was she supposed to explain that she could talk with his dead maker in only five minutes?

"Better hurry up."

Her gaze returned to her lap as she tried to find the right words. But she knew there would be no easy way to explain what she could do. It was rarely a conversation she had with others, and if it ever did come up, she was never believed. How was she supposed to make this furious vampire believe her?

"Four minutes."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Henley silently prayed one last time for Godric to appear. He would know exactly what to do.

"Three and a half."

Her knees started to shake again, her hands curling into tight fists as she tried to calm her breathing. She had to do this. She couldn't wait on Godric any longer. She had to muster up whatever courage she could possibly find and do this. Her life was hanging in the balance.

"Three."

"I communicate with the dead!" Henley blurted out.

An eyebrow raised as Eric titled his head to the side. He had read the accounts; he shouldn't have been surprised by the confession. He knew it was entirely possible. And yet it still shocked the Viking. What did any of this have to do with his maker?

Unless…

"Go on. And hurry it up," he leaned forward, his interest peaking.

She swallowed back the rising lump in her throat as she forced away the fear that was consuming her. She didn't have time to be frightened.

"Ever since I was a kid, I've been able to communicate with spirits," Henley explained, her hands nervously gripping together now.

"What exactly does this have to do with my maker and a witch that is out for my blood?"

"I don't know what Jackson wants with you…"

"Lies."

"I don't!" she insisted. "I didn't even know he was a witch up until a few days ago. Godric tried to warn me but…" she realized her mistake as Eric's entire body stiffened in his chair. She mentally smacked herself. She needed to be more careful in how she approached the topic of his maker. Even if she only did have a few minutes to spare.

"Two."

Henley inhaled sharply. It was now or never. "I can see your maker."

"Impossible."

"Apparently not."

"He's a vampire. Was a vampire," Eric corrected himself and with a frown. "It's not possible."

"Believe me, I know that. But he's been driving me insane for the past few weeks, so I have to say that somehow, it's become possible," he surely wasn't just a figment of her imagination, that was for certain.

"I don't believe you."

"It's the truth. Ask Pam. He communicated with her. And Willa could hear him…"

"I don't believe you," he repeated, his eyes narrowed into slits, his fingers curled so tightly around the arms of the chair that the wood began splintering. "One."

"I don't know what you want me to tell you. It's the truth. I walked into him – literally – one day and he's been…god, he's been trying to get me to tell you this exactly!" she was starting to panic. She tried to search her memory for anything Godric could have told her that would make his progeny believe her, but the pestering ghost hadn't exactly been a revealing one.

"Thirty seconds."

Her eyes grew wider at the eager look on his face. There had to be something. There had to be something she could…

That's when it struck her.

"Your sister!" the words slipped from her lips hurriedly. "Godric told me about your sister. She died recently and you've been…"

If it was possible, whatever colour remaining in Eric's cheeks drained at her comment.

"You're out of time."

Her body moved quicker than she thought it possibly could as she attempted to dart towards the door. She crashed into a hard chest, however, staggering backwards. Fangs were bared in her face as a hand grabbed a chunk of her hair, tugging her head to the side. In one swift movement, his fangs were locked onto her neck, piercing through the skin and to her blood supply. A scream sounded from Henley's lips as she tried to struggle, as she tried to fight for her life.

"Stop!"

At first, Henley could have sworn she was merely hearing things. She was losing blood rapidly; she was likely just hallucinating. But as the plea turned into a firm demand, Eric's attack halted, and Henley began to realize she wasn't hearing things at all.

Godric.

"Stop this now, my son,"

Eric released her so suddenly that she stumbled backwards, only to catch herself on the chair she was only been sitting in moments before. She had to blink to get her bearings, her hands shakily rising to cover her bleeding wounds.

"This is not who you are, Eric. This is not who I wanted you to become."

Henley glanced over her shoulder to find a flickering Godric behind her.

"Your anger towards humans, it's unsettling. Not all have caused you pain. Must you curse them all for a few of their misdeeds?"

Preaching Godric. She hadn't expected this. Hell, she hadn't expected Godric at all. Was he expecting her to relay his messages? He didn't even blink in her direction, keeping his focus entirely on his progeny. Henley risked a glance towards the Viking and was taken back by a look of sheer terror.

Eric could see him.

Eric could see Godric.

"Shit," she murmured to herself, staring between maker and progeny.

"How?" Eric managed. "How are you…"

"She is a trusted ally, not an enemy to be savagely harmed," Godric scolded.

"How are you here again?" Eric's eyes were as wide as saucers, both petrified and confused.

Again? Henley stared at Eric long and hard, not understanding what he meant. Had he seen his dead maker before? Was this not the first time? If that was true, then why hadn't he just believed her?

She wanted to be the one to ask all the questions, but in that moment, she felt like nothing but a fly on the wall. Both ignored her, their focus solely on the other. She almost felt like she was intruding. As Godric's transparent form started to flicker more and more, however, she couldn't help but intervene.

"Don't you dare go," Henley pleaded with him. If he left, who was to say Eric wouldn't just kill her?

"I'm sorry," Godric's orbs finally fell on her, offering a small, apologetic smile. It wasn't long lasted, though, as soon he was vanishing just as quickly as he appeared.

"Protect her," were his last words before she felt the air shift around her.

He was gone.

Again.

A/N: Have I mentioned how much you guys rock? Because seriously, you guys are just amazing and make me want to write. All the love is directed at you wonderful human beings.

OH! Someone reviewed saying they saw Henley as Holland Roden, and if I could give you one huge award, I would. That is EXACTLY who I picture as Henley (hell, I came up with this character with her in mind).