All that Glitters is Dead

PART 1

Chapter 1

March 2008

I could sense Thalia's icy gaze on my back. I didn't give in to the temptation of turning around to check that she was actually glaring at me; hers was the kind of stare you could feel from a mile away. Instead, I focused on reapplying my lipstick. For a third time. I'd been standing at the bathroom mirror for a while now. I'd first blow-dried my hair straight (doing away with the remaining fly-aways using the ceramic hair straightener Tara had loaned me for the trip), then pulled my hair back into a tight and smooth ponytail. I was extra careful to make sure not a single hair was out of place. And for the last twenty minutes I'd been fussing over my makeup.

One last check of my teeth for lipstick remnants, and I slipped the tube back into my travel makeup case. I buttoned up my blazer. The cooler climate in Oklahoma City this time of year necessitated an extra layer. I smiled at my reflection. The woman who smiled back was not a version of myself I was used to seeing. This woman was professional, put together, ready for business. Inside I felt like I was dying. Or crying. Possibly both. Throw screaming in for good measure too.

When I finally turned around, Thalia's scathing expression told me that I had spent too much time at the mirror. She probably thought I was obsessing over my appearance. Okay. I admit, maybe that was just me projecting. But so what if I was? I wasn't a vampire. And the decade of my twenties was drawing to a close. I'd be turning 29 in a few months. It took a lot of work to appear effortlessly styled. And I had serious doubts I'd even managed to get even close to that. I returned to the sitting room of my suite.

Time passed while I sat flicking the pages of a House Beautiful magazine, my legs crossed and jittering. I read it cover to cover, not absorbing a single word, and then started back at the beginning again.

The sun had set more than two hours ago. I didn't know the reason for the delay. I didn't particularly want to find out, either. I just wanted this over with. I'd kept my shields high since arriving at the palace, but I sensed that it was alive with the hubbub of many people. No curiosity bit at me; I didn't want to be privy as to why there were so many people about. Nuh-uh. Strictly keeping my nose where it belonged on this trip.

I flicked over to a page in the magazine depicting a suite very similar to the one I was sitting in—cream carpeting, large floral displays, opulent couches and gold trimmed wingback chairs. I wondered if the Queen styled the palace herself or if she hired someone to do it. I almost opened my mouth to ask Thalia, mostly to fill the silence rather than wanting a real answer. It wasn't like I expected the quiet and stony vampire to respond, but when I lifted my gaze to her, I saw her eyes were already trained at the door.

A knock sounded. I jumped up and answered, finding myself face-to-face with a short dark-haired vampire that looked a little like Mark Consuelos.

"You are summoned," he said simply.

Thalia and I walked side-by-side behind the vampire, who seemed quite young in vampire years. It was hard to say exactly how I got a 'feel' for vampire ages; something about how their mental presence registered with my telepathic ability. His presence felt dimmer. Or maybe less concentrated. We walked through the halls and down the same set of sweeping stairs I'd ascended when arriving earlier in the day. We passed a number of other vampires; they all seemed on the younger side too. Well, newly turned by any older vampires' standards. A hundred years old or so, by my guess. Their eyes watched us pass by, bright and keen with interest. Gossips. A unifying trait most vampires shared. I didn't know how much was known of me, or of the reason I was asked here, but I kept my chin high and let their gazes slide over me.

It was an unpleasant realization that this could've been my life had I taken Eric up on his insulting offer to keep me here as a mistress. I would've been rich fodder for the palace gossips. I fought the urge to keep my lips from curling downward. In and out, get this job over with, go home. I chanted it like a mantra to myself. It was not the first time and it would not be the last.

I could've wept with relief when I saw Mr. Cataliades standing outside two large ornate doors on the other side of a large foyer.

"I'm so glad you're here," I whispered in his ear when we briefly embraced.

"Just help where you can, do as she asks, and you'll be home before you know it," he responded quietly.

I thanked him, grateful for the stolid sense of reassurance he emanated. He gave my appearance a nod of approval, which brought about my first true smile for the day. The doors opened.

"Alright, let's get this over with," I muttered to myself. Mr. C offered his arm to me, and we walked through the double doors, still following the vampire who had summoned us, Thalia trailing behind.

You will be safe. I'll step in as needed or if she asks too much of you. Let's make this as painless as possible, Mr. C thought to me and he patted my hand where it rested on the crook of his arm.

Easier said than done.

We had entered a large throne room, not as gaudy or overdone as Queen Sophie-Anne's had been, but over-the-top none the less. The marble floors gleamed and tall Greco-Roman columns stood either side at the end. I strongly doubted they held any load-bearing function. They were simply for show. There were several sections of galleried seating on either side of the room and numerous vampires were lounging upon the benches there, some with their heads ducked close in quiet conversation, others leaning across seats talking to humans—who I assumed to be resident donors. Or maybe they were just regular folk, the kind who were covered in fang marks and liked hanging out in vampire palaces? Past the seating, at the end of the room, was a short set of marble stairs leading to a raised dais where Queen Freyda sat, dressed in a sleek moss-green gown, her willowy legs crossed at the knee.

We reached the base of the stairs and Mr. Cataliades bowed, followed by Thalia. It was at this point that I gathered all my annoyance and anger and stuffed it into a box deep inside my mind. I mustered a bow too. The pretension galled me… Especially since all I wanted to do was find the nearest wooden object, stake her and be on my merry way again.

"Miss Stackhouse," she drawled. "A pleasure to see you again."

"Your majesty," I said. My eyes traveled to her side. "Eric."

His nodded to me in response; his manner, his eyes, and even his expression devoid of anything familiar or friendly. My smile froze in place, and I swallowed a sick sort of feeling. There he stood beside his wife, dressed in a fitted black suit, bow tie at his neck, his hand resting upon her shoulder. He looked exactly as he had in the two short years since I'd seen him last, better even. He was well-coiffed and well-dressed… well-fed too judging by the rosy tinge to his cheeks. His hair was shinier than I remembered, pulled back into a neat pony at the base of his neck. Freyda's eyes narrowed as she watched our stilted interaction. I wasn't sure what she thought she saw transpire, but a smug little smile of satisfaction appeared on her dark red lips. She waved a hand and the room quickly cleared out so that all that remained was my posse with Freyda, Eric and the attendant who'd delivered us.

"I shall begin by thanking you for coming to Oklahoma so quickly," she said. "I understand how it must be a terrible inconvenience to your busy life."

Urgh. Bitch.

"It's perfectly fine," I replied sweetly. "It was tricky, but I managed to shift my schedule around, particularly after hearing the extent of all your troubles." Who did she think she was toying with? I was Southern, the art of the polite-bitch was bred into me.

"I suppose we all have our price, don't we Miss Stackhouse?"

I clamped my jaw shut, biting back a very un-ladylike retort.

"I suppose we do," I replied coolly when I finally could, and my gaze flicked pointedly to Eric and back to her.

The room's temperature dropped by degrees, and I could've sworn I saw the skin around her eyes tighten. Mr. C coughed, making a show of fumbling with the flap of his briefcase to retrieve a set of files. Freyda flicked her fingers and our suited vampire attendant darted out and retrieved the file from Mr C's hand, delivering it to her waiting grasp.

I folded my hands together at my front, keeping my chin high and poker face intact. This was the worst. I wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor and straight out of existence. Or maybe just straight back home to my easy chair with a glass of tea and a new book. Anywhere but here.

I hated this all the more because the Queen's words were in fact true. I did have a price. When Mr. Cataliades had approached me about a temporary stay on some of the clauses on Eric and Freyda's marriage contract so that I could work a telepathy job for Freyda, I'd simply laughed in his face and told him she could go pound sand, and he was free to tell her that. When he let me know how much she was prepared to pay me? Well...my mouth had snapped shut. Now, don't judge, I'm not one to be bought or sold, but I had twelve staff relying on me now and the money would be a sorely needed injection into the new bar. Sam and I were in over our heads getting it up and running. It was only a fledgling business; for every dollar we earned, we had to invest ten dollars more. Well, that fell more to me rather than Sam, since The Dogwood was my baby. He'd taken on more of a silent investor role. He was busy as it was these days with Merlotte's.

Freyda's narrowed gaze darted back and forth across the page at inhuman speed taking in the words, and she nodded once. She handed the contract over to the attendant, who I then belatedly realized was in fact her lawyer. He read it over with a nod also, then stooped slightly beside her and they whispered for a minute or so. We'd only made some minor final changes to wording, but it didn't really affect the spirit of the terms set out by the contract. At least that's what Mr. C had said. I hoped it wouldn't be a problem. Finally, and to my great relief, her lawyer withdrew a pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and she signed the contract. I suppressed the urge to weep with relief. It had been a stressful week preceding this trip going over the contract with Mr. C and responding back and forth with her legal team making changes. Though her signature was merely a formality, to me it represented the first step into getting this over with and getting back home.

"Very well," Freyda said to me. "You'll be meeting with my investigator, and she will bring you to speed." She reached up and placed her hand on Eric's where it sat upon her shoulder. "I expect results, Miss Stackhouse. And nothing less."

I opened my mouth to respond but Mr. C (perhaps wisely) beat me to it, assuring her that I would be working to the full extent of which I was capable, reminding her with very carefully chosen words that I was to be treated according to the terms of the contract. Subtext: no one touches the telepath.

Unbidden, my eyes travelled back to Eric. My former boyfriend. Ex-husband. Royal jerk. His focus was on Mr. C as he spoke, and perhaps on everywhere else but me. Okay, maybe I was projecting again. Fine. But it didn't stop me from wondering… Was it his brilliant idea to drag me back into the world of vampires? I couldn't deny I was grateful for the payday, but I most certainly, without a shadow of a doubt, did not want to be here. It was only because I had no other option. Least he could do was man up, vampire up, and look me in the eyes.

I stared him down—coldly, I hoped—until Freyda and Mr. C concluded their discussion. She rose from her throne, announcing that she and Eric had a date to attend to and he dutifully took her hand, smoothly stepping to her side. I, with my vampire and part-demon companions, moved out of the way as they descended the steps and passed us. I wondered exactly what a date would consist of for a married vampire couple. In fancy clothes, no less. Grabbing a quick bite to eat from some poor unsuspecting victims followed by a show? Or, as some small traitorous part of me suspected, perhaps their night consisted of something far more exciting and exotic than what a backwater barmaid could've ever offered her Area Sheriff husband.

I watched their retreat, focusing on breathing slowly and quietly in and out through my nose. I jumped as Mr. C's hand landed on my shoulder.

You did well, he thought to me.

Did I?

I closed my eyes and nodded, thankful for his reassurance. A foolish part of me hoped that when I opened my eyes, I'd just realize this was all a horrible dream and I'd be back home again, surrounded by everything safe and known. I drew a deep breath with a weary, fatal sort of resignation. No such luck. When I opened my eyes, I was still in the Queen's receiving room and there was now a new vampire before me. I jumped with a start and the vampire offered a slight Mona Lisa smile at my startled cat impression.

"Sweet baby Jesus, I forgot how quiet y'all are," I said and followed it with reedy, almost hysterical, laugh. This vampire was tall, with dark eyes that were framed by her thick and equally dark brows. She was beautiful, in a handsome way, dressed in a black pantsuit that suggested she meant business. Her narrow face was haloed by a tumbling mane of dark hair cut to above her shoulders.

"This way," she said after she and Thalia shared a respectful nod.

The three of us of us, Thalia, Mr. C and I, trailed after her from the throne room down a side corridor and into another large room. This was less lavish but no less well appointed. The tips of my heels sunk into the Turkish rug, the walls were wallpapered in a dark red and gold leaf damask. The ceiling, high and wide, displayed a stunning fresco of forest green ivy with delicate red flowers. To one end, beside a roaring fire, sat a large mahogany table. I took it to be our center of operations. Tall bookshelves covered the walls in this corner of the room, rendering a very cozy vibe. A place I'd like to be if it wasn't here.

It was then that my eyes drew with appalling inevitability to an enormous portrait above the fireplace.

Eric and Freyda, immortalized in lifelike oil paint. Their wedding portrait. Her dress, deep scarlet and beaded, set off the pale blue of her eyes and stark white of her alabaster skin. Eric, as serious as his wife beside him, stared as if right through me, pinning me in place. He didn't look happy, oh no, he looked positively lethal. I snorted softly to myself, because of course the royal couple had an official wedding portrait, and of course I was to be working in the room where they would be staring me down the entire time.

The dark-haired vampire stood beside a mahogany chair, dismissing two guards in black militia gear who were standing beside the double doors leading into the room.

"We're working here?" I asked, and my tone sounded petulant even to my ears. The vampire's gaze moved to the portrait and settled back upon me. Her lips curled indulgently. I felt then like a naïve little calf… and that she was deriving keen enjoyment by leading me to slaughter.

Oh, how I haven't missed working for vampires.

Instead of answering, she turned to Mr. Cataliades and spoke. "The telepath shall be working from here for this evening, as set out in the contract. Tomorrow evening, we may venture out to conduct interviews, but it will be cleared through your office by close of business."

Mr. C accepted this and turned to me. "Contact me should you need me. I will remain in Oklahoma until the morning." Keep your phone on you at all times, he thought. Mr. C hugged me, patting me gently on the back and departed through the double doors. I watched the door close, half of my safety net disappearing from view. Thalia took her post by the door, standing with her hands clasped passively behind her back, her expression an interesting cocktail of anger and witless boredom. This was Thalia in Default Mode.

"Well, well," said the vampire beside me. "The legendary Sookie Stackhouse. You are quite unassuming, aren't you?" Something about her features and mannerisms reminded me of a cat, sleek and angular.

"And who might you be?" I stood beside one of the ornate mahogany chairs and turned so I could face her fully. Or rather, turned so my back was to that god-awful portrait.

"I am Sigrid, Oklahoma's investigator. I look forward to working closely with you over the next few nights." Her voice was accented, something European, though I couldn't quite pick it geographically. Eastern Europe? Polish? She held out her hand and I blinked at it. I couldn't recall a single time a vampire had tried to shake my hand. But she, like all the other vampires in the palace, seemed to be on the younger side… Maybe some of those customs hadn't been bred out of her? I took her hand, and she brought it to her lips, pressing a cool kiss to the back of mine. She drew a long breath, scenting my skin, and I snatched my hand away.

Thalia hissed and Sigrid's dark eyes flashed with some dark feeling. She straightened and her tongue slipped across the tip of a single fang that was showing from behind her pink lips. "I see the appeal now…"

Urgh. Really? I released a pent-up huff of annoyance. Time to nip this old bull-crap in the bud.

"May I speak freely?" I asked and squared my shoulders. Seconds passed. I continued to stare unabashed. Sigrid nodded, brows rising, fang disappearing from view as her lips pursed. "I'm here under official business," I began. "I intend no disrespect, but I'd prefer to keep all discussion squarely on the business that brought me here."

And not on my ex-vamp-husband or my part-fae appeal.

The room grew eerily quiet, the only noise my steady breathing and the crackle of the fire. Sigrid was still, in that unnatural manner that only vampires could affect. Unblinking and un-emotive. Uncanny valley.

"Noted," she said finally, the corner of her lip curling, fang reappearing again. She gestured for me to sit at the table. "I will return presently." She zipped from the room, her sudden departure causing my ponytail to billow. I looked over my shoulder at Thalia and screwed up my nose quizzically. Thalia closed her dark eyes, tilting her head slightly towards the open door.

"She entered the donor chambers," Thalia said, opening her eyes. "She is young; your scent is alluring."

"Oh, brother," I muttered, and pulled out the chair to sit down heavily in it. Someone remind me to douse myself in dollar-store body spray tomorrow evening. It had been so long, I'd nearly forgotten my catnip effect on vampires. Nearly. I reached over the top of the considerable stack of files on the table to grab the tall pitcher of water set out for me. "It's any wonder the queen chose such a young investigator," I muttered, more to myself.

"She is of similar age as the Queen. One century or two, at most."

I nodded and poured myself a glass. It seemed to be the average age of all the vamps here. Thalia blurred to my side and clamped a hand over my mouth, holding me firmly in place, and stifling a squeak that forced itself from my throat. "They are also borne of the same lineage, telepath—the Queen and the investigator." She whispered into my ear, her voice quiet yet harsh. "Proceed carefully. You are here alone as a test."

Thalia released her hand and gestured to the files, all left within reach.

I scoffed loudly, folding my arms over my chest. "If she thinks I'm curious or stupid enough to go snooping where I shouldn't, then she clearly hasn't investigated my own sorry history. I'm done with sticking my nose anywhere other than where it ought to be."

Thalia scowled at me and returned to her station. Sigrid returned many minutes later, her eyes glassy and cheeks as rosy as Eric's had been earlier that evening.

"Well, then," Sigrid said, sitting down beside me at the table. "Let us begin… How much has your lawyer told you of the Queen's predicament?"

Author's Note:

This story is the first installment of three novel-length fics that take place after CH's Dead Ever After. All three have been written (okay, I'm currently working on the final chapters of book 3...). The series is not a romance, per se, in the same vein that SVM was not a romance series. It was a mystery series first—with a strong romance subplot. I'm continuing with this conceit/premise.

That said, I know we're here because we all got suckered into the romance part of it. Sookie and Eric are of course end-game, but with an emphasis on end (book 3). So my sincere apologies, but this series won't be bringing them together quickly. But how could it? The ending of SVM had sent them careening apart, in terms of geography, character development, and life direction. So, this is not a quick fix-it fic. I wanted to bring them back together for good, in a way that is true to them and authentic to the universe they are in, but also in a way that allows them to be the best versions of themselves. Further to that... I like my gal Sookie. These stories are at their core hers. She deserves a better lot in life than what she ended up with in DEA. Don't you agree? I primarily wrote this to give her entire life a happy ending it sorely deserved. Eric is a part of that. But not the entirety of it. Hope that makes sense.

Enjoy!