This chapter's title is the name of a few songs. I chose the song by the Chemical Brothers.

Sorry this one took a week to produce, but in my defence it's almost twice as long as normal. :)

Now that Bill Compton was the King of the state of Louisiana—within vampire politics, anyway—his old, rundown mansion had become a state-of-the-art fortress, completely retrofitted for a rich vampire's every whim. A combination of old southern plantation and stylish new tech greeted Eric where once there had been a decrepit, rotting home. Lavish drapes hid the fact that the metal window blinds closed so tightly that every single room in the house was now light-tight when morning came. Bill Compton and his vampire daughter Jessica no longer slept in the basement or in coffins—they slept in oversized beds filled with luxurious pillows and satin sheets.

How Bill Compton had become a more powerful and prominent vampire than Eric was still beyond him. Killing a political vampire should have ended the man's second life, not vaulted him into the position he'd just forced the previous queen to permanently vacate. It had been more than a year now and it still bugged Eric. Especially since he now had to get through a goddamn checkpoint before even being allowed to walk onto Bill's property. It used to be the other way around. Eric used to be in charge of Bill—and he'd never treated the other vampire like a possible assassin.

At least Eric's name was on the list though, so it only took a minute of convincing the guards to let Eric through with his guest. Of course, once he was through the gate and past the guns, there was no need to knock on the door. The mansion was still owned by Bill and as such wasn't a human's residence. Besides, why be polite when he could get on Bill's nerves? It entertained him to no end. There weren't many ways he could do that now without setting off a human with a gun.

The guards at the gate had probably warned the king, anyway.

He swung open one of the double doors and ushered Lucifer into Bill's lair. As Lucifer stepped through the door into the spacious foyer, he stopped to appreciate Bill's latest decorating tastes. "Well this is more like it," Lucifer said, the appreciation clear in his melodic voice.

"What a vampire should own?" Eric asked, feeling a bit disappointed in Lucifer's expectations. Or that he himself was probably falling short now that he was introducing him to fucking Bill Compton. The feeling of inadequacy led him to realize that he cared what Lucifer thought of him more than he probably should.

"Well, no," Lucifer quickly replied, clearly backpedaling. "Fangtasia is probably more vampiric than this is. But this is what I expect of the states of Louisiana, not a cemetery on the outskirts of town. Or a bar in a strip mall. The echo of extreme decadence built on the backs of slaves."

Lucifer's response immediately put Eric's mind at ease, but only for the briefest moment.

Bill's office door swung open and the King of Louisiana stepped through the threshold and into the foyer, an annoyed look on his face. "Eric," he said shortly. "Why is it you always have the most impeccable timing?"

Bill leaned against the doorframe to his office and folded his arms over his chest—the man was in a soft cashmere sweater, not even pretending that the Louisiana heat didn't bother him. The look on Bill's face told Eric he was in no mood for bullshit. Apparently it wasn't just Sookie who had left their little rendezvous unhappy.

Knowing how bitchy Bill could get when he was in a mood, especially now that he was in a higher position than Eric, Eric dropped to one knee and lowered his head. Very, very grudgingly. "Your liege," he said, happily lacing the words with as much sarcasm as he could. He would give his King his due respect, but he would be damned if he would do it wholeheartedly.

He heard Bill's sigh and smiled to himself. Ruining Bill's day made his day ever so much better.

"What is it you want, Eric?" Bill asked.

Eric stood, sparing a glance to Lucifer who was frowning behind him. But instead of introducing Lucifer, Eric turned back to Bill and inclined his head, looking down at Bill to try to intimidate him with his height. It hadn't worked in a long while, but it was always good to try to put the King in his place. Just in case it worked. "Have a fight with Sookie?" he asked, a mocking smile on his face.

"Is that why you're here?" Bill asked coldly. "Stalking her, waiting for her to have a crisis of character and change her mind?"

"You offend me, Bill," Eric replied smoothly. "I don't resort to stalking her like others have done. If she can't accept me for who I am, well . . . there are others who will."

Lucifer cleared his throat behind him, and if Eric could flush with embarrassment and perhaps a bit of excitement he certainly would have. But he was dead, no blush rose to his cheeks—still, he felt oddly happy at Lucifer's interruption. He had done it in such a fashion that perhaps he would accept Eric where Sookie would not. That was a fun idea indeed.

Lucifer came forward, one hand out, the other smoothing down his suit jacket. "It is a pleasure to meet you, your . . . highness," he seemed a bit flustered, not knowing how to approach Bill. "My name is Lucifer Morningstar, and I'm the one who asked our friend Eric to introduce me to you."

Bill moved into the room in order to shake Lucifer's hand, his gaze going from Lucifer to Eric and back again. "That's quite the interesting name," Bill said. "And why do you need to meet me?"

"Well, Mr. Compton, I deal in favours, you see." Lucifer flicked a quick glance at Eric, and there were unsaid promises in his eyes. But for what?

"I've met a man," Lucifer began. "A vampire, of course. And he's worried about his immortal soul. I've promised him I'd search for an answer—whether you're all doomed for eternity or if there's a possibility for salvation. Without getting those answers, I'm afraid he will never owe me a favour. And I just can't stand for that." Ah, a promise to not give away that Eric was the vampire. He felt . . . thankful to the devil for that.

Bill smirked as he glanced again at Eric. "And the first person you asked was Eric Northman? I'm afraid you went to the completely wrong person. If anyone is bound for hell after their true death, it's Eric."

Lucifer's eyebrows drew together and for a second he looked rightfully pissed off for Eric. But his face smoothed over and he plastered a grin to his face, although it didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, well. He brought me here to you."

Bill nodded, "Perhaps he did one thing right."

Bill's righteous attitude was beginning to get to Eric. How dare he act like Eric was some degenerate as if he, Bill, were some pious saint? Disregarding his track record before they'd come out of the coffin, ever since Sookie had disappeared the year before, Bill had slowly lost his morality, becoming more vampire than he'd ever been before. What a hypocrite. Typical bullshit from the southern vampire.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Morningstar, I've no true understanding of what will happen to us when we each meet the true death. I wish I could be of service, but I'm of no more help than the poor vampire who weeps for his damned soul."

"Please, call me Lucifer," Lucifer said, giving Bill a disarming smile.

"I've never met anyone named after the devil before," Bill said. "Even renamed."

"Well, there is only one of me, after all," Lucifer said, looking as smug as a cat. "And I do believe you can help me, your Eminence."

Eric choked on a laugh, trying to look serious when Bill narrowed his eyes at him. He was almost certain the devil was mocking the king of Louisiana and it was hilarious. A warmth seemed to spread from his chest, and he counted himself lucky to have met such a man. For someone who was supposed to rule hell, Lucifer was a stand up guy. He clearly believed in loyalty, and for some reason he'd decided to latch onto Eric. Which meant Eric's enemies were his own.

"How can I help you if I don't know the answers you seek?" Bill asked, backing up a few steps toward the door to his office. It was clear that Bill wanted to end this conversation and get Eric out of his house as quickly as possible.

"Well, I'm certain a vampire of your standing must have ample vampire texts," Lucifer said. "I'm right in thinking that, yes?"

"Well, yes," Bill admitted. "But they're not for humans eyes, you understand."

"I'm hardly human," Lucifer replied smoothly.

"He's the devil," Eric supplied, deadpan.

Bill chuckled but when neither of the tall men laughed with him, he grew silent and pensive. He visibly sniffed and stiffened when he found the scent of a strange human missing in the air. Suddenly, Bill was no longer trying to get them to leave. He moved to the middle of the foyer again, gaze hard on Lucifer, almost as if stalking prey. "What are you?" he asked, mirroring Eric's words from the night before.

Lucifer sighed and turned to Eric. "Do you see? Every bloody time."

Lucifer turned back to Bill. "I'm not human. I'm not some bloody fairy either. I'm the devil; the fallen one. I'm the man who tortures you when you go to hell." Eric was not imagining things when the devilishly handsome man's brown eyes suddenly flashed a scarlet red, giving the man's smile an evil mien. Bill's entire attitude changed. Eyes going wide, he backed up again, but this time to put space between him and Lucifer, rather than to indicate they weren't welcome. The younger vampire looked alarmed.

A quick scenting of the air revealed Bill wasn't just alarmed. He was scared. Very scared. Interesting. Eric looked to Lucifer, but his eyes had returned to their warm, dark brown. He looked nothing more than the handsome man Eric had been with all night. What on earth had just transpired?

"You—the devil—want to see my books," Bill said, a sudden respect in his voice.

"Yes, if you would be so kind," Lucifer replied amiably.

Eric was suitably impressed as Bill gestured for the two of them to follow. He'd only seen Lucifer's eyes light up with that eery glow and he wondered just how chilling it would be if Lucifer levelled that particular gaze upon him. He'd never seen Bill turn from disdain to respect so quickly, not even in front of the Authority. Unless Bill had seen something Eric hadn't?

He let Lucifer fall in line behind Bill and Eric took up the rear as they crossed the foyer into the hall that led further into Bill's house. They passed a couple guards coming up from the new basement fortress hidden under the house, but neither human said a word. Simply moved down the hall, heading for the front door to relieve the guards who were on duty outside. Just two doors down the hall, Bill led them into a dark room. He'd only been in Bill's study once before and it was far different from the man's office. Where the office was done up in black and white, modern furniture, and a massive desk that took up a good portion of the room, the study seemed to harken back to the 1800s, as if it was Bill's place to go when he wished he was still human.

Like most rooms in the mansion, it boasted a massive fireplace. The walls were painted a deep crimson red with mahogany wood trim everywhere, including the bookcases that were built into the wall across from the fireplace. Two high-backed arm chairs sat in the centre of the room with a coffee table in front of it—also made of dark wood. Even the arms of the chairs were polished wood. When Bill flipped the light switch, Eric could actually hear the gas that fueled the lights in this room. It was the only room in the house with the original gas lighting left. While the fancy gas lights did light the room, it hardly made it brighter, and if it weren't for vampiric eyesight, Eric would deem this room to be a shitty place to read books. It was a good place to commiserate when you didn't want prying eyes, though.

Bill headed for the fireplace, tension in his shoulders as he reached for the firewood piled next to it. "Any texts I have that talk about the damnation of the vampire soul are simply conjecture," Bill said. He began arranging wood in the fireplace and after a few moments of silence had a small fire going. It never ceased to amaze Eric how Bill—and many other vampires, for that matter—seemed to be fascinated with fire. To light one's house—even if it was only a single room—with fire in an age when electricity was readily available seemed like an invitation for disaster. One flyaway spark could mean an excruciating true death for a vampire—and yet so many vampires enjoyed lighting their homes with candles and fireplaces and ridiculous gas lighting. It sometimes seemed like everyone secretly had a death wish.

Once Bill was satisfied with his fire, he paced across the room, giving Lucifer a wide berth as he went. "Almost everyone agrees that we're doomed for an eternity in hell once we reach the true death, regardless of what sins we commit while we continue to live our undead lives." He pulled a few books off a shelf, cradling them in one arm as he moved down the bookcase. "Whether it's because our souls are already there for succumbing to the disease or because our souls are currently caught in a limbo in which they are being corrupted, it seems to be the general consensus that we're fucked no matter what we do. I admit, I've given this topic a lot of thought over the past few years. I worried about my eternal damnation, especially once we went public and a large portion of Christianity deemed us evil without so much as getting to know our species." He found another book and placed it in the small pile in his arm before returning to the centre of the room to place them carefully on the coffee table.

Bill took a seat in one of the chairs and then gestured grandly for Lucifer to take the spot next to him, which would leave Eric alone to stand. Lucifer contemplated the situation for a moment but opted to lean down and grab the first book off the top of Bill's small pile, continuing to stand. It was old and leather bound and when he cracked the book open, Eric got a whiff of old paper and mustiness as he leaned over Lucifer's shoulder to get a good look. The title page had Eric arching a single eyebrow. The Book of Lilith.

"Really, Bill?" Eric mocked. "I didn't think you'd fall for something like this."

"We have to have an origin somewhere," Bill replied, a scowl on his face. "Lilith is as good a starting point as any."

"Lilith?" Lucifer enquired as he carefully flipped through the pages.

"The thought is that the first vampire was Lilith, and that we are all her children."

Lucifer snorted in amusement. "Don't be silly. Lilith wasn't a vampire. I'd know."

Both Eric and Bill stared at him. Lucifer hardly noticed, as he continued to scan the pages. When the silence stretched out uncomfortably, he finally looked up. "What?" he asked.

"You . . . knew . . . Lilith?" Bill asked. He looked alarmed and Eric felt a brief flash of satisfaction knowing it was his doing in a roundabout way. By bringing Lucifer here.

"Well, of course I knew Lilith," Lucifer said casually as he closed the book. "She spent a brief time in Hell with me, of course. Helped make the place what it is, honestly." He bent back down to lay the book on the table, grabbing another in the process. He flipped through this one rather quickly, seeming unimpressed with the topic. "What, pray tell, is your mythos about Lilith?"

Bill settled into his chair, crossing his legs and clamping his hands on his knee. "That she was the first vampire, but that she was lost to us long ago. There are some who believe the Authority has her blood kept in a special vial in a climate controlled vault, but that's clearly nothing but hogwash."

"I assure you no one has her blood anywhere," Lucifer said, slamming the second book shut. "Nor is she a vampire." He dropped the second book on the table, grabbing a third. But instead of opening it, he tapped the spine against the palm of his hand. For a split second, the ring on his middle finger flashed in the firelight. "Although I would say it is possible for vampires to be her children. She did make the demons after all. She does have a creative streak." He tilted his head to the side and Eric realized it was his tell for when he was trying to understand a problem. "The difference between the Lilum and vampires is that vampires used to be human. She specifically created the demons."

"Vampirism is a virus," Bill supplied. "It is why we think she passed on the virus to others. Once a human has enough of the vampire virus in them, they succumb to the virus completely, essentially killing them—well, that which makes us human. The virus itself keeps us animated—or seemingly alive, if you will."

"Does this make you no longer human?" Lucifer asked.

Bill shrugged. "There's debate about that. Most of us see ourselves as vampire—humans are our prey. But there are some of us who cling to our humanity, wishing to continue our lives as we once did."

Eric coughed and gave Bill a pointed look.

Bill gave a short nod of acknowledgement. "I admit I was one of those vampires for a time. But I've come to terms with who I am and what I am. And what I am is certainly no longer human."

"So you happily do vampiric things now?" Lucifer asked.

"What does happily mean?" Bill questioned. "Or vampiric? And does it even matter? Can you tell me if I'm doomed to Hell?"

Lucifer put the third book back down. "I can say with certainty that your soul is not currently there, but I'm afraid that's all I know."

"So if even the devil can't tell me if I'm screwed, what even is the point in worrying myself into an early true death?" Bill asked.

"A fair point indeed, King Bill," Lucifer agreed readily. "However, I didn't come here to assess your soul. I've come in search of the answer to that very question."

"Well, I'm afraid you'll be hitting a dead end," Bill replied. "You're more than welcome to take the books with you, assuming Eric will bring them back to me." At this, Bill gave Eric a look laced with expectation. "However, I am going to have to ask you to leave. Dawn is approaching and I'm sure Eric needs to get back to his coffin, as I don't believe he has access to his hidey-hole here in Bon Temps."

Eric bristled. "I'm sure she'd let me if I was in need," he spat out at Bill. "Which I'm not."

Bill stood, tugging on the bottom of his sweater to make sure it was exactly where it needed to be. "Then you best get going before you are."

As if he had somehow commanded it, two of the guards showed up at the door. Only one was holding a gun, but one gun was all the threat Bill needed to use to sway Eric and Lucifer to leave. Lucifer tucked the books under one arm and amiably let himself be escorted out of the house. Eric followed grudgingly. Bill didn't even say a word goodbye, simply let his hired humans do their job.

Typical Bill.

God, how Eric couldn't stand the man.

It wasn't long before the two men had wandered back through the cemetery and to Lucifer's midnight black Corvette. They were silent as they got in and the only sound was the wind as they began their trek back through the night to Shreveport and the safety of Fangtasia. Eric was busy stewing about Bill and how he couldn't put the other vampire in his place anymore and it really bothered him. He couldn't stand the man's pompous attitude, whether it was when he had been lamenting his humanity over the last few years or now as he meted out what he deemed was justice. Bill Compton didn't understand justice. He barely even understood what it was like to be a fucking vampire.

A hundred and fifty years to Eric's thousand?

And he was the damn king?

But while Eric was brooding about the other man in Sookie's life, Lucifer's thoughts were clearly going down a completely different path. When Lucifer let out a sigh, Eric managed to pull himself out of his own reverie to realize there was something wrong.

"Don't mind how Bill acted," Eric said, figuring it must be the same problem. "He's been a jackass as long as I've known him."

Another sigh came from the dark-haired man. "It's not that," he said. "It's that I'm failing you."

"How?" Eric asked, truly confused. Lucifer was almost a complete stranger—just because Eric had apparently told him his most secret desire didn't mean the man had any reason to feel obligated to help. They were just two ships passing in the dark. Weren't they?

"I promised I'd find you an answer and I've done nothing of the sort. It was you who suggested your vampire friend, and despite my taking the books, I really don't think we're going to find the solution in them." Lucifer frowned, the lines of it stark in the light from the dash. "With dad MIA and no easy answer among the vampires, I'm not certain where to go next. If I knew anyone even remotely spiritual in the area, perhaps I'd try that. Someone with a close connection to the spirit world. But barring going back to L.A., I'm not sure what to do."

A tense silence spiraled between them, but after a few moments Lucifer glanced at Eric in the dark, "I'm truly sorry, Viking."

But Eric was thinking of something else, Lucifer's words about spirituality giving him an idea—and a stomach ache. "Actually, if you're referring to someone who can speak with the spirit world, I think I might know someone."

Lucifer took his eyes off the road a second time, giving Eric a hopeful look. "Oh?"

"It's not someone I consider a friend, but he'll do what I tell him." Lafayette Reynolds. One of the coven members who had cursed him. But then, Eric had kept him locked up in his dungeon for weeks. Perhaps they were even. It didn't really matter—he had his memories back, after all. And the curse had given him a brief taste of what it would be like to be loved by Sookie. Silver lining and all that. "He's back in Bon Temps, unfortunately. It's too late to go visit him, but perhaps tomorrow?"

Lucifer gave Eric a radiant smile. "Viking, it's a date."