A/N: Thank you for you reviews so far! Here's the next instalment...

Silk

I didn't sleep well, tossing and turning for a little while, before falling into a fitful sleep. I dreamed, and in the dream, I was wearing a red hooded coat, walking through the woods. Behind me was a wolf, trying to capture me; its fur was dark, almost black. I started to run, knowing it was closing in on me; if I could reach my grandmother's house I would be safe, the wolf couldn't get me there! But he was closing in fast, and I stumbled over a tree root, crying out in pain. A figure loomed over me, blotting out the light; I whimpered in fear, but the woodsman simply picked me up, running with me to the house, taking me to safety. I couldn't see his face, but his hair was silken and blond.

I sat up in bed in a cold sweat, shaking from the nightmare. Unable – or perhaps unwilling – to fall asleep again, I picked up the sheet of paper Eric had given me, and started reading it through. Though I had a contract for Merlotte's, a lot of what was on the paper confused me. I hesitated, checking the time, then realised that, it being just before dawn, Eric would most likely still be up. I drew on my chenille robe, and went down to the kitchen and perched myself on the stool, dialling his cell phone number.

It was answered after two rings. "Northman," said the faintly accented voice I'd come to recognise.

I hesitated for a moment. "I didn't know that was your last name," I said.

"Sookie, my darling, how delightful," he purred. "Northman is the name I use for convenience. And what can I do for you?"

"I couldn't sleep, and was reading through the… pre-contract, or whatever you want to call it," I said. "I'm not sure I've understood all of it. I had a few questions, that's all."

"Mm-hmm. It is too close to dawn for me to guarantee staying awake through all of your questions, as I imagine there are plenty; I will come by this evening before going to the bar, and you can ask whatever you like. This is acceptable?"

"Sure," I said, making a mental note to check I had plenty of TrueBlood in the fridge. I usually did, since I'd started dating Bill – which reminded me of another question I wanted to ask him. "Is there a way of stopping a vampire entering your house, once he has an invitation?" I blurted out.

There was a surprised silence on the other end of the line. "Yes, there is. But if you are uncomfortable about inviting me into your home, we can meet somewhere else, if you prefer."

"Oh, ah, I didn't mean… no, that's fine, I just… just in case… Bill…" I stuttered to a halt.

"Ah… yes, Compton, of course. If you feel the need, you would say his name, and 'I rescind your invitation', and he will be unable to enter, or, if he is in the house already, he must leave it."

"Okay," I said with relief. "Thank you."

"It is near dawn," he said, sounding as if he'd put the phone on speaker, and was moving around as he spoke to me. "Even if he is a threat to you, even if he has returned early from New Orleans, he will be doing as I am doing, and preparing for his daily rest. You will be safe to sleep."

"To sleep, perchance to dream," I quoted wryly.

"Dreams I cannot guard you from," he said lightly. "But they are just that – night terrors cannot harm you."

I blinked a little, surprised by the mistiness of my eyes; his words had sounded, for a moment, uncannily like something my father might have said to me when I was a child. Something my Gran had said, too, when I'd had a bad dream about my great-uncle, and I'd told her – told her everything. "Did you ever have children?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes, two boys and a girl survived me," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

I shrugged, even though he couldn't see me. "Sounded like something a parent will always say to a child, that's all."

There was a soft sound of amusement. "I don't think of you as a child, and I certainly don't see myself as being a father-figure to you," he said, his voice lilting and teasing with laughter, "as I would be happy to demonstrate."

I held the receiver away from my ear, and stared at it a moment, before bringing it back again. "Are you flirting with me?" I asked, baffled. Not one of my sharpest moments, I grant you, but it had been a long, stressful, pretty much sleepless night.

"Of course. What better time to flirt with a beautiful woman than when you're getting ready for bed?" came the reply, as soft and seductive as silk.

I confess, right at that moment, I wasn't too unhappy about it, either. "Next you'll be trying to discuss nightwear with me," I said, trying to sound sharp, rather than curious and, let's be honest, downright encouraging.

He took the bait. "I wear nothing at all to bed, my darling… the better to feel the silk sheets on my skin," he purred.

I think I squeaked, as much from the intriguing and enticing mental image as from the shock that he'd actually said it. "Oh, um, right, well…"

He laughed. "Actually, I have to disappoint you there; the sheets are high-grade Egyptian cotton, and I wear sleep pants. You?"

"Pyjamas or a nightgown, cotton sheets," I shot back automatically.

"How terribly conservative of us, don't you think?" he teased.

"I prefer practical. Silk's a bitch to clean." I'd had a silk blouse, once, a gift from Aunt Linda. Never again, that's all I'll say.

"True enough. You will be able to sleep now?"

I smiled; had Eric been flirting with me just to take my mind off things? Maybe, but it didn't really matter. "I think so. Thank you," I added impulsively.

He chuckled. "You're welcome. Sweet dreams, and I will see you this evening."

I hung up feeling much better, glad that I'd called him. It seemed a little strange that, having been so terrified of him before this evening, and despite the fact I'd seen him kill another person, I felt a lot more comfortable with him than I had done previously. Why had I been so afraid of him, that first time I'd met him? Looking back, nothing he'd done had been any more threatening than anything I might come up against on a normal Friday night working at Merlotte's – a deliberate eye-fuck and a come-on. Well, big deal – why had I over-reacted so much to that?

I recalled Eric's comment about Bill using his blood to influence me, and my own blood ran cold. Had he deliberately made me fear Eric, using his blood (or his understanding of psychology; I remembered suddenly he'd told me he'd studied it for a while)? And if he had been trying to make me afraid of Eric, why – because Eric was his superior and could protect me, or could there be some other explanation? I made a mental note to ask Eric about that, too. I gazed longingly at the telephone, before giving myself a mental slap. I was not a needy female who was going to keep ringing him all the time, especially this close to dawn, when he'd be needing to rest.

And speaking of needing to rest, I did, too, I thought with a yawn, glancing out of the window. I smiled; the birds were already singing in the dark, so dawn was not far off; Eric had kept me talking as long as he could so that I would know I was safe.

I slid back into bed, and grinned a little at the feel of the cotton against my feet. Silk sheets, indeed, I thought with a giggle, pulling the covers over me. But something inside me seemed to warm and glow at the memory of our conversation, and I felt more relaxed as I hugged the pillow to myself.

It wasn't long before I fell asleep again, and this time, my sleep was deeper. I dreamed again, but this was a different type of dream entirely. In this dream, a man was curling his body protectively around mine, spooning behind me – I could tell from the hairs on the arms that held me that he was blond – and the coolness of his body was matched by the slip of the silk sheets against our skin. Surprisingly, despite that, it wasn't especially erotic (more's the pity, I thought when I woke up), but was somehow gently comforting, and very, very safe.

It was late into the morning by the time I woke up, feeling more refreshed than I'd expected. I was working the lunchtime shift, so had to hustle to get out in time, but made it in record time – perhaps because of the vampire blood I'd swallowed the previous night.

"What happened to your arm?" asked Sam, nodding to the bite mark.

"Dog bit it," I fibbed automatically.

He frowned. "Had it had its shots?"

"Yup," I smiled brightly. "All good."

Thankfully, I had to deal with some customers at that point, so I avoided the worst of his questions. I was glad of that, as I didn't feel up to talking about my suspicions with anyone, as hurtful as they were. And boy, did it hurt, to think that Bill, my boyfriend, my first lover, might have been playing me all along! Not just that, either; what hurt more than anything was the thought that I'd been so naïve I'd been taken in.

I tried to remind myself that they were only suspicions, that we couldn't be sure of anything just yet, but when I looked more dispassionately at the situation, it seemed altogether too likely. I gave a soft sigh, and slumped against the bar momentarily.

"Everything okay, cher?" asked Sam anxiously.

"Fine," I said absently, lying through my teeth. "Just tired." That was far from the truth. After my phone-call with Eric, I'd slept like a log, and I felt remarkably awake now.

"Best have an early night, then," he commented, polishing a glass and putting it away.

"Mm," I murmured non-committally. I figured that would depend on when Eric left.

I scurried off at the end of my shift, glad to get away. I stopped off on the way home to go to the shops, and stashed my groceries away neatly, before heading off to shower; the greasy smell of work made me wrinkle my nose even more than usual – maybe another after-effect of the vampire blood. I luxuriated in my shower; I felt almost as if I could feel every single drop of water on my skin. It was the best shower I'd ever had.

I stretched out on the sofa once I'd changed into comfortable jeans and a light-weight sweater, and relaxed with my latest library book. There was a while to go until dusk, and it was a rare joy to have some quiet time just to myself. As tends to happen, though, that time went quickly, and I had an early meal, knowing that Eric would be on his way over from Shreveport soon.

This time – unlike the previous evening – I waited with anticipation, rather than nervousness. Speaking with Eric on the telephone, in particular, had helped me see beyond my fear of him; it had been so normal a conversation (even taking into consideration the flirting), with him clearly doing some pretty normal, domestic stuff while he spoke to me. It made him seem more… well, I guess human wasn't exactly the right way of putting it, but less of a frightening ogre, anyway. I liked the fact that he'd been open about vampire matters, telling me all sorts of titbits of information to help me understand the world he – and Bill – inhabited. It made me feel… I tried to think of the right word… empowered.

I'm a Southern girl. I like that kind of thing, I like making my own decisions, doing things my own way. I guess I'm a bit stubborn and headstrong, but Eric's information, such as it had been so far, had started to give me some tools to work with, rather than stumbling about in the dark blindly, trying to negotiate a world I simply didn't comprehend. I was grateful to him for that. And I'd started to like him as a person, too, even though I'd only met him a couple of times. He'd shown that he had a good sense of humour, a ready laugh; he 'got' me, as some of his comments – like understanding how restful vampire minds were to me, and that my dreams were bothering me too much to allow me to sleep – showed. I figured that he was a guy that I could actually talk to about all sorts of things. He was fun.

Being strictly honest, I'd quite liked the flirting, too. It hadn't felt threatening, in any way, just a little harmless fun, and it helped that – well, Eric's drop dead gorgeous, excuse the pun. Having a good-looking guy flirt with you is always going to send your confidence soaring, isn't it? Right then, mine was pretty much stratospheric. It wasn't a feeling I was used to, but I liked it.

He turned up a little earlier than I'd expected, and I couldn't help but smile, drinking in the sight of him – tight blue jeans that set off his eyes (and butt; okay, so I noticed), and a black t-shirt that clung lovingly to every sculpted muscle. His long blond hair was loose, and rippled invitingly down his back. I tried not to drool. Drooling's just not classy.

"Eric, hi, come on in," I said, thanking my lucky stars that my brain and mouth were still functioning on the same wavelength. No embarrassing faux pas yet.

"Thank you," he said, stepping over the threshold.

"Can I get you a TrueBlood? I have some O positive, and a couple of AB negative," I offered.

"O positive, thank you."

I heated the bottle in the microwave, and made myself a sweet tea, while Eric sat at the kitchen table, quietly observing me. "Thanks for coming over. And for talking to me this morning," I said.

He shrugged one massive shoulder. "It was a pleasure," he said with a slight smile. I poured the synthetic blood into a glass, and put it in front of him. "You had some questions?"

I nodded. "Some about this," I said, tapping the sheet of paper that I'd laid on the table ready, "and some about other things."

"Where do you want to start?"

"You mentioned Bill having some sort of influence over me, because I'd had his blood?" I ventured. It was as good a place to start as any.

"Yes, we can use this to… control a human, to a certain degree. It is rarely done – only where there is some need to keep the human completely loyal, or if they are especially valuable. Or possibly, in your case, I suspect both."

"So, if that's the case, what would he have been doing with it? Does it fade over time? Can it be broken?"

"One thing at a time," he laughed. "The easier questions first. Yes, it fades over time, so long as the blood-giving is not repeated, and no blood bond has been formed. Yes, it can be broken before it has faded completely, but only by drinking the blood of an older, and therefore more powerful, higher-ranking, vampire, or with the vampire's death. I was thinking about this as I drove over; if you have only drunk from Bill once, as you said, to heal your injuries, then the influence he has had over you will have been fading. As Long Shadow was older than Bill, what little blood you swallowed last night would probably have severed the connection, and therefore his influence, completely. But as Long Shadow is no more, he cannot influence you, so my guess is that it is as if that blood-giving had never taken place."

"Would Bill be able to tell?" I asked anxiously.

He thought for a moment. "I think, as the tie would have been fading anyway, he may think it is simply that. I would not be surprised if he finds some excuse to try to renew it when he returns from New Orleans. But I would not recommend it as a course of action."

"Does that happen with V users?" I asked curiously. "You know, the influence?"

"You know, I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "I wonder. I suspect what they sell is, like most drugs, not pure – possibly thinned down with human or animal blood to make it go further."

I shuddered, wondering if the users had thought about that. "Okay, well, no more drinking from Bill. Or anyone else," I added, for good measure. "But why do you think he did it? Just to make me afraid of you?"

"Perhaps," he said. "Of all the vampires you might meet, living here, I'm the only one who would have enough political power to even think of standing up to Sophie-Anne – or the tactical ability to put you out of her reach. To have you fearing me would mean that you would not tell me the nature of your relationship, of your meeting, your fear of the Monroe crowd… you would shy away from working for me, perhaps. You would be more isolated, dependent on him. You would care more for him, would be loyal to him; you would immediately distrust anyone who spoke ill of him, or questioned his motives."

"Like… brain-washing," I said with a shiver.

"Something like that," he agreed.

"I've… noticed some of the effects of the blood," I said hesitantly.

"Oh?"

"Being able to move faster, for one thing. All my senses seem heightened, too, not just seeing more clearly, but hearing and smell, too – and I swear, when I showered earlier, I could feel every drop of water on my skin."

His eyes glazed over a little, and his fangs ran part-way out. "You wouldn't care to re-enact that, I suppose?" he asked hopefully.

"No, I would not!" I said tartly, blushing.

"Shame," he muttered, slouching back in his chair with a sigh. "Those effects probably won't last long," he added.

"It's been easier to control my telepathy, too," I said thoughtfully.

"Really? Hmm, interesting. Have you been physically stronger?"

"A little, I guess."

He nodded. "I think it will simply have strengthened all things."

"I guess that's not so bad," I said. "I suppose you don't know how or why this… Sophie-Anne knew about my telepathy, assuming Bill was sent here, as we thought?"

He shook his head. "Without asking questions, no, and that might alert others to your existence, where it might be more prudent not to do so. I will keep my ears and eyes open for anything that might be useful."

I nodded. "Okay. So, this… one thing really confused me," I said, gesturing at the piece of paper.

"What's that?"

"You mention wanting to acknowledge me as part of the supernatural community. What do you mean by that? You're not thinking of… I mean, I don't want to be a vampire," I said worriedly.

He laughed. "'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy'," he said, eyes twinkling.

"Excuse me?" I asked, wondering why he was spouting Shakespeare at me.

"Simply this: there are humans, and there are vampires, but there are other types of being, also, who walk amongst us, and who you might think are human, but who are, in fact, something… other."

"Such as?"

"Werewolves, shifters, demons, and fairies, to name but a few. They keep their 'otherness' a closely guarded secret for now, but I would wager you know at the very least the odd Were or Shifter," he said. "To answer your question, although there is no race of being called 'telepath', it is not a common human trait, and I suspect that, somewhere in your past, there is something that is not quite human; you do not taste entirely human, either, though being able to tell your genealogy from your blood is not a gift of mine, sadly – and I would not have you meet the only vampire I know whose gift it is," he said, frowning.

"You think I'm… not human?" I squeaked.

"I think you are mostly human," he said reassuringly. "But I think there is a little more to you than that."

"So if I'm mostly human, why do you want me acknowledged as part of this… supernatural community?" I asked, bewildered.

"No doubt it will displease you to hear it, but the supernatural community will see humans as being on the lowest of the strata of humanoid beings, beneath, or outside, their hierarchies. To acknowledge you as being somehow within those structures would give you greater protection; you would be seen as more valuable than simply a human would be. Humans are, at least to most vampires, expendable. A telepath, however, is not. A formal acknowledgement would see you have greater respect and protection."

"I guess that's no bad thing, then," I said thoughtfully. I glanced down at the paper. "Whose idea was the job title?"

"Pam's," he said with a grin. "I liked it, though. 'Human Liaison Assistant' sounds much more official than 'the girl who reads minds', and more believable to humans than 'telepath'."

I had to laugh. "I guess it does," I conceded. "But that's basically what I'd be doing? Reading minds?"

"Mm-hmm. I would want you present when I had to meet potential clients, for example, or for any number of dealings Pam and I might have with humans."

"And that's why the clothing allowance?" I checked.

He nodded. "Other members of my retinue –" I flinched, and he rolled his eyes, "– my team," he corrected himself, "have an account at a couple of stores in Shreveport. I wasn't sure if you would prefer to shop there, or at the store in Bon Temps, as it might be more convenient for you."

"What kind of things would I have to wear?" I asked cautiously. "Not the, ah, outfits you all wear to the club?"

He grinned. "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to," he said, licking one of his fangs as he let them run out; it was my turn to roll my eyes. He retracted his fangs with a twinkle. "No; businesslike clothes – smart pants and blouses, or the like. Pam would be happy to go with you to set you up with a few items, to give you an idea, I'm sure." He laughed, as if at a private joke. "She loves to shop. And she loves clothes, too. She would be in her element."

"That would be real kind of her," I said, thinking that it would be good to have her advice, so I didn't make some kind of fashion faux pas when spending the boss's money.

"So, you are intending to accept the position, then?" he asked.

"One more question," I said. "You're not expecting me to stop working at the bar, right? I mean, the money you're offering is generous, but it's not a regular income, whereas my job at Merlotte's is, and I can rely on that income coming in every month."

He shook his head. "No, I understand that this will be over and above the hours you are already working."

"And I'm going to need enough notice of work you want me to do, so that I can change my hours around, and sort it out with Sam."

He inclined his head. "This is fair. If it is an emergency, however, may I propose that, if you are needed on a night when you are working, I provide one of my own waitresses to cover?"

I thought about it. "I guess that's up to Sam to agree to or not," I said finally. "It's fine by me, of course, but it's his bar, not mine. He gets the final say-so on staffing."

"As it should be," he said smoothly. Of course, as a bar owner himself, he'd understand that. "If these are all your questions, I will speak to him on your behalf, and make that offer. Would you prefer this formalised?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes, I would," I said steadily. "I know that means I'll be paying more tax, but it gives me more protection, too."

To my surprise, he looked pleased. "Then I will have a formal contract drawn up, and bring it over in a couple of days, along with your shirt. It is still at the cleaner's."

"Your t-shirt's still drying," I said with a smile.

"I'm sure it would look even better on you wet," he said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

I shook my head, but couldn't help laughing. "Oh, hush."

A loud thud at the front door made me jump, and shriek. Before I knew it, Eric had flung the door open, fangs down. I sure as hell wouldn't have crossed him – at that moment, he was by far the scariest thing I'd ever seen. I took a step towards him but he held up a hand to stop me. "Don't," he said, a peculiar note in his voice. "Did you… do you have a pet?"

I felt suddenly ill. "A cat," I whispered. "My cat, Tina." I'd let her out earlier, after feeding her. She liked playing outside at night.

"Then I think you will not want to see this," he said, bending down, scooping up a small, furry body.

"Oh no," I whimpered.

"I'm sorry, Sookie," he said gently. "Is there… somewhere I can…?"

I closed my eyes. "There's a hole in the yard," I croaked, willing back the tears. "I was going to plant a live oak, in memory of Gran."

He nodded. "Stay here."

I sank down on the floor, not moving from the spot. A few minutes later, he returned, brushing soil from his hands before closing the front door behind him. I was aware of him going to the kitchen and washing his hands, and then he came back and crouched beside me, silently wrapping his arms around me.

I held onto him, not speaking, not crying, until finally, I could relax a little. He kissed me on the forehead, and helped me up. "Whoever did this was at some distance before I opened the door, and the scent was too faint to track," he said quietly. "They are probably far away by now, but nonetheless, I will stay until I am assured of your safety, whether by remaining here, or by setting someone to guard your house."

I nodded, unable to find the strength to argue.

"Will you be able to sleep?" he asked.

"Maybe," I sniffed.

"I can stay beside you," he offered.

I looked at him, askance, but there was no… impropriety in his tone. "I'm not having sex with you. Just so you know," I snuffled.

He ruffled my hair. "No. I like my women willing, and you are far from that, right now," he said. "Go and get ready for bed, and call me when you are comfortable."

I nodded, and headed towards my bedroom. I paused, just as I reached the door. Without turning around, I asked, "How did she die?"

He was silent for a moment. "Strangled, I think." He didn't need to add that it was how those poor women – Gran included – had died. I'd realised that for myself.

I nodded, and went into my room, closing the door behind me. It was only then that I broke down and wept.