I stood, my mouth catching flies, and Sigrid stepped forward. I unconsciously took a step back. That was my first mistake. Sigrid stepped closer still, and I stepped backward even further, my legs butting up against my chair. Second mistake. What were my legs doing? No, no, no, stop that, stop walking backward, Sookie. Stop walking backward!

Rule number one when working with vampires: Never act like frightened prey around vampires… Especially ones you hardly know. It just forces them to act as predators and they love that.

"I didn't see that on the pie chart," I said, and my face broke into a broad, nervous grin. "I definitely would've remembered laundered money if it had appeared on Freyda's financials."

Sigrid grasped me by the neck, not tightly, and brought her head so close I could smell the faint scent of her shampoo, something tropical. It didn't suit her. Certainly not when she was hovering over me ready to strike.

"If you tell a soul, I will kill you."

"You can't hurt me," I said, or at least that's what I tried to say; her grip was pressing directly on my wind pipe. It was exactly the wrong thing to say, anyway. Her grip tightened. She could hurt me, she just wasn't allowed to. Mere semantics.

She laughed bitterly. "I do not care. Freyda is my first priority."

"Over your own existence?" It was Thalia who spoke, and my eyes darted to where she had appeared in the open doorway.

"Yes…" hissed Sigrid.

"Let go," I tried to say. I felt a little woozy. Thalia snarled and Sigrid's grip loosened. I pushed her away the rest of the way.

"Why would I tell anyone?" I rasped, rubbing my throat. "I'm bound by the NDA."

"The Northman," Thalia said, leaning against the door frame, her booted feet crossed at the ankle in an appearance of nonchalance. It was a pose eerily reminiscent of Eric.

"Huh?"

"She doesn't want you telling Northman."

Oh. …Oh. He didn't know, and it was clearly important he didn't find out.

"I hate to tell you," I snapped, directing my attention to Sigrid, "but he and I are not speaking terms these days."

"You are loyal." Sigrid lifted a hand and gestured to me, like the quality was a human stain upon my character. "You rescued your former lover from his maker, did you not? Even after he betrayed you?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Bill Compton? Is that what you're talking about? How is this remotely the same?" And how did she even know that? Staking Lorena felt like a lifetime ago. Like two lifetimes ago. An echo of that memory, and that time, shivered through me.

"It is not," Sigrid said. "But it is revealing of your personality."

Thalia moved to my side, her formidable presence allowing me to relax a fraction. Well, maybe if you were to halve that fraction.

"What was the point of even bringing me in to help you if you couldn't even tell me about the money laundering? Surely the missing gold is somehow tied up with all of that."

"You are human," she spat. "There is no expectation that you will solve this. You are simply a tool that will enable me to solve it."

I threw my hands up in defeat. "At fifty thousand dollars, I am damned expensive tool." I blinked as a disturbing thought formed. "Where is the money y'all are paying me coming from? How is the Queen getting this money? What money is she laundering?"

Sigrid shook her head. "That is none of your concern."

"It is if I'm getting paid in dirty money! Where did it come from?"

Sigrid actually had the gall to roll her eyes. I gritted my teeth and pushed past her to leave; she caught my shoulder at the last moment.

"I am unable to tell you," she said. I turned to look at her. Her eyes were dark and pool-like, full of some depth I couldn't fathom.

"Alright…" I scrambled to think. "Can you tell me what it isn't? Is it drugs?"

A slight shake of her head. So slight it was almost imperceptible.

"Is she exploiting humans?"

Pause. Another shake.

I sighed. Well, it was something. Not quite a comfort, but something.

"It hardly matters either way," Sigrid said. "You are still bound by the contract."

This time it was my turn to bare my teeth. "I assure you, a willing telepath is much more effective than an unwilling one."

Sigrid narrowed her eyes at me. She knew I was right. My efficacy came down to doing my job to the best of my ability and part of that was deciding whether to share everything I heard. I could somehow solve this mystery and decide to simply not pass the information on. Let Freyda rot, for all I cared. Thalia examined us with disinterest.

It seemed we were at an impasse.

The three of us returned to the palace in silence. I stewed on what I learned and wondered how best to proceed, or if I should at all.

It certainly put Freyda's finances into context. Her financial health wasn't that precarious if she had money coming in through illegal channels, but surely she was still stretched thin. The mansion and its renovations were extensive, and she didn't strike me as the person to do anything by half-measure—just look at the extent of preparations for her upcoming party—it boggled the mind that anyone would engage in such outlandish spending without having the wealth to back it up. Tack onto that the state of her other investments and assets, and the picture it painted was more than grim. She was only hanging on by a thread because she had an illegal source of income. One she couldn't risk revealing to authorities. She needed to get her gold back.

Sigrid was right though, I wasn't left with many options. It was a sad fact. A fact I could rail against, gnash my teeth at, complain and stamp my foot about all I wanted. But as it stood, I had one option. Do my job if I wanted to get paid. And I needed to get paid. But at what cost?

Sigrid led me back to the palace study where we'd first met the night before and left me with a loaner laptop for me to use. After scowling at the offensive painting hanging above the fireplace, I typed up a quick report of the evening, of course not including Sigrid's confession to me, and transcribed and expanded the notes I'd taken on a legal pad the previous night when I'd interviewed the human staff.

There was nothing there relating to the missing gold, but some issues existed that Sigrid told me were best to pass on to the palace manager. Some petty theft, the daytime chef was considering leaving after what she considered was a displeasing performance review, an issue regarding living space that was causing some squabbling between donors. Ordinary day-to-day stuff. The palace ran almost like a business.

I straightened and stretched in my seat, the clock rapidly approaching 2 am. Thalia was no longer on the offensive like last night where she'd been poised by the door ready to pounce the second anyone flinched. Instead, tonight she squatted by the study door, flicking through a novel she'd chosen from the wide bookshelves. Her dark eyes darted across the words, two slender fingers poised with the next page pinched between them, ready to turn. She was reading slowly, almost at a human speed. I'd never seen her so… relaxed. Though it's a relative term for Thalia. Her shoulders were still tense, her ear tilted toward the door. Yet, she almost appeared at ease.

"I think it's strange…" I began.

Thalia's head snapped up, features flashing with irritation. She said nothing.

When it was clear she wasn't planning on prompting me, I sighed and simply plowed on. "It's strange that Sigrid was so cautious about sharing… the extenuating circumstances surrounding the theft and the credit union." I was speaking carefully here. "Yet she didn't have any qualms with you listening in—even after saying vampires couldn't find out."

To my surprise Thalia responded immediately. "She knows that I will not say anything. That I do not fraternize. That I will not gossip." She said this last word sourly and not a moment later it was as if our conversation ceased to exist, her eyes returning to the page.

Even for a vampire, Thalia was more vampire than most.

Still, something about her explanation didn't somehow satisfy. I saved my document and closed the laptop. I then wandered the bookshelves, interested to see what sort of books Freyda filled them with. I trailed my fingers across the spines. The night had been uneventful though surprising. I was still a little hopped up on adrenaline from the credit union visit. I wasn't ready for bed just yet.

Freyda had a large collection of novels and tomes, a lot of classics; many seemed completely untouched or brand new. They're just for show, I realized with an internal snicker. I may not have such an impressive array of books, but at least mine were all well-thumbed and much loved. I only purchased and held onto books I truly enjoyed reading. Eric's substantial book collection had been the same… I wondered if it were in storage in Shreveport, or maybe in his private quarters here. The collection had been impressive; one curated over many years.

I pulled a crisp copy of some Asimov title off the shelf and flicked through the pages, then pressed my nose between them. Internal gloating aside, the scent of a new book was something else. Clean and crisp, with the slightly synthetic tang of fresh ink. Still, nothing beat the warm, welcoming scent of an old, well-loved book. I returned the book to its place and my eyes drifted lower to the bottom shelf where a stack of black leather-bound albums lay horizontally one upon the other.

I sat on the rug criss-cross applesauce and pulled an album onto my lap. My breath faltered as I opened it mid-way. A photo album. I turned the wide, stiff pages. These were old photos; photos from some bygone era, the 50s maybe. Old buildings, blurry nighttime vistas, the colors washed out. The architecture appeared European. There was a group shot outside some office building. Freyda was there, gloves and pretty hat, Sigrid beside her. I almost didn't recognize the statuesque vampire; Sigrid was smiling broadly at the camera, as if she'd been caught mid-laugh. Nothing like the brusque vampire I had spent the last two evenings with.

I continued further through the album. Many of the pictures featured Sigrid and Freyda at parties; one close up shot of Sigrid beside a fire, her face softened with concentration as she read a book. Another vampire, who I didn't recognize, also featured in many of the shots. He was older, dark skinned and hawk nosed. Of Indian or middle eastern descent maybe, and extremely handsome. The three made a handsome looking trio. I lost myself in the other albums, each seemed to display a different era in time, a different place Freyda had resided. Another album was purely holiday snapshots.

I pulled out a couple more albums, transfixed. It was strange, even surreal, to see Freyda and Sigrid, their male companion too, transfixed with immortality against the changing background of different eras. I felt an oddly pitying appreciation for how strange it must be for them… Their bodies on pause while the world continued to churn on around them. All the changes they must've experienced year after year. How alienating it must feel for them so see the world continue on while they all stayed the same.

My word, I had never been as thankful for my mortality as I was in that moment.

The album I currently held documented what looked like the 80s; Freyda with her hair styled in big permy curls and wearing a pink taffeta mini dress with a peplum waist. I stared at her face, the slight easy curl to her smile. She looked almost… human. I grimaced. The fact she even held onto these albums left an unsettling taste in my mouth. It was hard to pinpoint why. Maybe seeing her like this hinted at some sort of sentimental aspect to her personality, something human that hadn't been bred out of her by the inevitable grind of vampire life and politics. It was evidence that some small jot of humanity remained. Or maybe it was that there was more to her than I thought, more to her than just—

I heard movement behind me, and I twisted, looking over my shoulder to its origin.

Thalia was back to standing on guard, no sign of her book, and Eric crowded the doorframe beside her, holding one of the double doors open with an arm. No sign of his formal attire from the previous evening. This was an Eric I was familiar with—hair hanging loosely, dark jeans and t-shirt. For a moment, it transported me back in time. He was standing on my porch again, smirk in place, flirting and teasing me shamelessly, trying to drag me into some sort of vampire hijinks or maybe just into his bed. Or even mine.

I averted my gaze, forcing the memory away.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Sigrid has requested I introduce you to the palace manager." He spoke as cool as a cucumber.

I closed the album, returning it to its place on the shelf and stood. "She didn't mention anything to me."

Eric remained impassive, though he shrugged. I sighed. I read the hidden implication of his gesture. To Sigrid, I was merely human—a tool—I didn't need to be in the loop.

I collected my things, careful not to brush past Eric's large frame as I walked out the door. I lingered a moment waiting for Thalia and then we trailed behind Eric, my loaner laptop under my arm. We traveled through the western wing on the first floor, past the ballroom which was alive with a hubbub of activity, until we stood outside a wooden door along a long corridor.

Eric lifted his hand to knock, but at the last second turned to me.

"I trust your accommodations have been comfortable?"

I jolted with surprise, and my mouth opened and then shut like a gate in the breeze.

"Are you for real right now?" The words left me unthinkingly. Eric and I had parted on very sour terms. I hadn't heard from him in years. And, despite all assurances, here I was dragged back into vampire shit and this—this—was what he chose to say to me? I wanted to pinch myself. Or maybe pinch him. Hard.

Eric's lips settled into a firm line and the rest of his features changed the way water changed when you threw a pebble into still pond. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. It didn't suit him. But I found I rather liked it, which was rather uncharitable of me, but I didn't care all the same. Thalia grunted and pushed past the both of us, not even bothering to knock on the door before letting herself in.

I ignored Eric and followed after her into what turned out to be a small, functional office space. A surprised-looking Were stared at us from where he stood stooped over his computer screen. He was older, mid-40s maybe, dark curls cut short atop his head, close cropped beard that sported a liberal mix of salt and pepper. Handsome like a cowboy, I thought.

His eyes caught my intent staring, and I felt the telltale prickle of heat creeping into my cheeks. Whoops.

"Sigrid asked I deliver the consultant to you," Eric stated.

Deliver. Like I was pizza.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion," I said, quickly following up Eric's statement. I had better manners than pizza, at least.

"Sookie," Eric said, "This is Joshua McMann. Joshua, this is Sookie Stackhouse. Sigrid has informed you of her presence in the palace," Eric said.

"Of course, of course," Joshua said, waving me to a seat. Eric nodded to the were and with one last burning look my way (which I had no hope of understanding), he left. Thalia posted herself yet again by the door. As soon as I heard the door click shut, I slumped down into my seat, letting out an almighty sigh.

"Long night?" the were asked, that attractive smile of his curling.

"Like you wouldn't believe," I huffed, brushing the stray wisps of hair off my forehead.

"I have some idea," he chuckled. "I've spent the last few weeks organizing a party for three hundred guests."

"Three hundred?" I said with some shock.

He nodded knowingly, his eyes warming with his smile. "My reaction exactly."

"Oh my… Well, I guess I'll be staying in for the night." There was no way in hell I was going to go mingle with 300 guests for a vampire's birthday party. I snorted at the thought and his smile widened good-naturedly. That was presuming I wasn't home already. I knew what my prayers would include tonight.

"I'm sure the Queen will excuse your absence," he said in a reasonable way. "So how goes the investigation?" He settled into his office chair.

"Fine…" I said carefully, looking past his shoulder to where multiple certificates of qualification were framed on the walls. Was that a doctorate? "Still gathering all the information I need," I said and brushed gently against his mind, trying to get a clear read. It was just the swirly red spectrum of emotions I'd come to associate with the two-natured. How much did he know? "Can I ask why we weren't introduced last night during my interviews with all the palace staff?"

His brows lifted, his mind echoing his surprise. Maybe he didn't expect to be considered a suspect. "I was off-site sorting out an issue with the donor company."

"Issue?" I could hardly imagine what that would've entailed.

"The queen demands a high pedigree," Joshua explained. "She was dissatisfied with the samples sent over from the company."

Gross.

Joshua laughed and I realized I must've voiced that opinion out loud. "You get used to it."

•───── ─────•

When the phone began ringing for a second time, I hauled my butt out of bed with a groan. My bedside alarm clock read 4:44 am. I threw open my bedroom door and stumbled into the small sitting area.

"Didn't occur to you to pick up?" I snarled in Thalia's direction.

"Not ringing for me," she responded, head not even lifting from her book.

I snatched up the receiver of the vintage cameo phone. I'd seen the phone when I had arrived and hadn't even realized it was actually hooked up. I'd assumed it was a prop, a piece of décor.

"Hello?"

"Sookie."

My breath caught in my throat, my ire swiftly snuffing out. "...Pam?"

"Expecting someone else?" she drawled.

"I wasn't expecting anyone."

She laughed throatily.

"Why are you calling?" I asked. A sinking feeling quickly took over my surprise. Something must be wrong.

"Just to catch up," she said lightly.

I blinked and as seconds passed without further explanation on Pam's end, I sank onto the settee beside the phone. "Alright," I began cautiously, "Well… How are you?"

"I'm very well this evening. And yourself?"

I pulled the receiver away from my ear to look at it incredulously and pressed it back again. "Pardon me?"

Pam repeated the same well-mannered response, and I couldn't help it, I began laughing.

"I've been practicing my manners," she explained, sounding a little miffed.

"Since when?"

"Time has passed since I've seen you last, my friend."

Like seeing Eric at the door of the study earlier in the night, Pam's endearment struck a nerve. But this nerve was raw and sweet. It had been a long while since I'd heard her call me that.

"Good for you," I managed in reply. "But really, why are you calling?"

"Must I need a reason?"

"To call me at…" I shifted in my seat to catch a glimpse of the ornate grandfather clock to my right. "Nearly five am when I'm in Oklahoma? I live a short drive from you, Pam. You don't exactly do that when I'm home."

There was silence for some moments. "For a legitimate reason."

"Well, of course." The dust had not long settled on Eric's departure when Pam sourly informed me that Felipe had suggested, rather ordered, that maintaining our friendship would not be in her best interest. She hadn't agreed but acquiesced, not wanting to get in Felipe's bad books so soon after taking on role Area Sheriff. So that was that. It had hurt, but the band-aid rip had been swift, and I didn't want to land Pam in any unnecessary hot water in her new position as Area Sherriff. We had talked on the phone on occasion, but not since I'd bought the bar. Free time was not something I was in possession of. Once things had settled for both her and I, I'd always intended to reach out and rekindle our friendship. It wasn't that it was gone, more that it was on pause.

"But there is no reason why I cannot call my maker to check in.," she continued. "Too bad if I accidentally dialed the wrong extension within the palace."

"Well, then." I smiled. "Your folly is my luck."

"I hear you have struck out on your own as a businesswoman."

"Sure have," I said. "Over in Minden. I'd love for you to come and see it. The Dogwood Bar, right on the main strip."

"We could swap business tips, share advice on managing staff. I'm having issues with some waitresses." And the conversation took off, before long I was fully reclined on the settee and the two of us talking up a storm. So much had changed, but Pam and I settled right back into our old friendship like no time had passed at all. She told me how her hands were full with her sheriff duties and running Fangtasia but how she was thriving in both roles. She was interested to hear about my new endeavor with the bar.

"You are my only friend, Sookie," she said as our conversation wrapped up. "I'm pleased to catch up with you."

"I'm not your only friend."

"My only part-fairy telepathic friend. Life is a lot quieter without you in it. While I don't miss the misadventure you were fond of bringing to my doorstep, I don't like it."

"Oh, Pam…" My eyes misted over.

"How is he?" her quiet voice came through the line.

"I don't know. You tell me…" I thought of mine and Eric's ridiculous non-conversation from earlier that evening.

"I wouldn't know," she said. "He blocked the bond when he departed Louisiana. We talk, but it's difficult to speak freely."

My throat filled with an overwhelming ache, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I'd never given much thought to what Pam was forced to give up with Eric's marriage. She lost her maker and me… apparently her only part-human friend. Eric and Pam were like two peas in a pod. He was her only family, her only connection in the US. It must have been so hard for her.

"Are you coming on Friday night?" I asked suddenly. A small flare of hope came to life inside me.

"No. What's on Friday night?"

"Freyda's birthday party."

I grinned broadly when Pam's laughter roared down the line; even Thalia lifted her head to catch my eye and we shared a small, amused smirk. Well, would you look at that? Thalia is capable of smiling.

"Well, that's a shame," I said. "Not that I'm planning on going."

Pam scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous; you're going."

"No way in heck am I going to willingly throw myself in that shark tank."

She tutted. "If I know anything about Freyda, she's putting on a bigger show because she assumes you'll be there."

"As if. Why?"

"Why would she travel all the way from Oklahoma City to Bon Temps just to scope out her intended's human?"

My mouth opened and then closed. I had no answer I could really verbalize. It was years ago when she'd shown up on my yard... I had thought it was to determine how much of a threat I was. But had she actually been insecure? Surely not.

"Why would she care? What do I rate to her, anyway?" I said lamely.

"She wants to stake her claim… To rub your nose in it."

"That's ridiculous! Like I give two hoots about a fancy palace and swanky party."

Pam laughed yet again. "And that's exactly why you have to go."

I stifled a yawn and shook my head. "You have approximately five seconds to convince me before I'm going back to bed."

"If she's going to all this extra effort to make herself seem better, just imagine how it will rile her up to see you unimpressed and indifferent."

I snorted. "I'm not sure that's even enough."

"You'll see," she sing-songed.

"Oh, Pam…" My voice cracked. "I miss you."

My statement was met with stark silence.

"We miss you too," she replied.

The line went dead.

A package was delivered to me after breakfast the next day. A dress. Black silk, knee-length and figure hugging. Under the dress was a small velvet box with a note written in neat script: The dress is yours, but I expect these returned in person. P x. Inside the box lay a pair of extravagantly large emerald drop earrings.