Through the phone, I heard a door shut and a brief period of silence.

"Report," I said.

"There was a fire," Pam responded, reverting to Old Norse.

I rose from my bed, threw on my pants, shoes and and got back into my shirt. I quietly exited the room, pocketing the keycard. Teaching Pam my native tongue had long proven useful, despite her protests when I first turned her. I had insisted she learn. She'd always been adept at the language—adept at most things, in fact— and a fast learner in general, but it was in the last three years that she had become especially fluent. Need necessitated it. The specific dialect we spoke was long considered dead—particularly considering that we, its last two speakers, were no longer considered living. It assured us a degree of privacy.

"Was it her home?" It would be a shame if it had burned down. The destruction of Sookie's ancestral homestead…The image of it in my mind's eye, charred and ruined, stirred an unpleasant, uncomfortable emotion. Many generations of memories resided there, and while I'd never known Sookie to be particularly sentimental over material things, her home was of special import to her. We had shared many nights there. Though, that was something I now—

"Her bar."

I restrained the snarl that threatened to rise and quickly exited the hotel foyer and onto the street, slipping into a side alley. I rose, flying high onto the hotel rooftop—away from wayward, prying ears. There were always bound to be some.

"Felipe holds no true claim to her. He's being impetuous," Pam said, and I heard movement in the background. The creak of her chair as she reclined, the rustle of something else.

"Of course he fucking is," I said, flexing and releasing my fist. "de Castro may think himself a strategist, but he's petulant to a fault."

"More like butthurt," she said reverting back to English briefly. "He destroyed her livelihood… Then sent her flowers."

I growled. What was he playing at? Her bar! Of the little time I'd spent with Sookie during her visit, I could see how much her business meant to her. She was proud of what she had built. As was I.

I paced the expanse of the rooftop as Pam filled me in on the details of the fire. I turned my back to the city vista while I listened. It was unlikely that Felipe lashed out in such a way simply to punish Sookie. He had been cool but receptive to the idea of Sookie's services being loaned out to Oklahoma and then readily accepted the pecuniary consideration. We had broken a clause within my marriage contract, but it was done on the up and up. With legal consent.

The racing of my thoughts slowed as I recalled the strength of his watchful gaze when I'd interacted with Sookie at the party. His dark, assessing eyes.

I'd heard once that in his human life Felipe had been a trusted diplomat of Phillip III of Spain, and it was through Felipe's machinations alone that the kingdom held on throughout the crisis of the Bubonic plague. He had propped up the failing kingdom by raiding the estates of the vanishing wealthy families of Spain. While the dead lay decomposing in their sick beds, Felipe divested them of their worldly assets. Felipe was shrewd and he was wily. It was with that same temerity he had acquired Louisiana in the wake of Rhodes, further fortifying his rule in the Americas.

What was he playing at now? What did he stand to gain? Or rather, what was it that he wished to achieve?

I considered the options, cataloging possibilities. Assessing them. Then, in turn, discarding them. Had Felipe punished Sookie in order to castigate me? Or was he merely being tempestuous? I turned and took in the view from the rooftop. It was a damp, misty night; the lights of Tulsa blurred in the light drizzle.

The echo of Sookie's voice rang in my ears. Her indignant tone, her accent sharply pronounced with anger, the undercurrent of hysteria as she had yelled me at on the phone earlier that evening.

I ran a tongue against my aching fangs; they longed to drop. She did not deserve this. Both of us had sacrificed in order to assure some semblance of security for our future. Mine for my undead one; her for her briefly lived one. A future that was no longer a combined one, but it was one that would provide us an assurance of long-term safety and stability.

It was the best of a bad hand, as Pam had counseled me those years ago.

At the time I felt a wounded bear backed into a corner. Furious with Ocella's underhanded arrangements, I'd wanted to cleave and send heads rolling to recapture my freedom. Anything was preferable to leaving the state, leaving Sookie. But it had been too late for that. When it was clear I could not move out from underneath the weight of my marriage contract, I had pulled every string I could in order to make sure Sookie would be okay. That she would be protected. Every step of mine, bar few, had been made with this as my end goal. For it all to come to this. Her life demolished once more.

I let out a frustrated growl and began pacing again. My control threatened to break as my anger steadily increased. It was Freyda who suggested tasking Sookie with finding the missing gold, an act of desperation on Freyda's part, and one I'd stood firmly against. We'd argued vehemently for many nights.

And then it was Pam who revealed Sookie's new business venture. Had mentioned in passing that while Sookie was managing it well, she could still do with a financial boost. Pam had been keeping tabs.

I couldn't lie to myself, however. It was neither of them that were at fault. That, alone, fell to me. Me who had finally relented and agreed with Freyda. Allowed Sookie to come.

In my mind's eye, I once again saw Sookie on the darkened patio, the resolve in her gaze as she crushed her hand with that statue. She had been punishing herself. And me, in turn. "What have you turned into?" she had spat at me accusingly.

I came to a standstill on the edge of the hotel rooftop and gripped the concrete parapet with my hand. It crumbled under my fist.

"Eric?" Pam said.

"I'm listening. I take it she's unharmed." The question was redundant. Pam would have informed me immediately if she had been harmed, especially if it were as a result of vampires. Still, I needed to hear the truth of it with my own ears.

"Yes. She is well, but she's not coping, as you heard."

Anger swelled. Mighty and all-encompassing. I wanted blood. I wanted Felipe's blood. My fangs throbbed with the anticipation of it. In the background of the call, I heard the click of a door, quiet footsteps and then Thalia speaking softly to Pamela. I heard all.

"He manipulated the situation so she will not receive insurance compensation," said Thalia. "He has rendered her destitute."

Pam swore. "That bastard."

I snarled, the impact of my dropping fangs so swift it drew blood from my lip.

I stalked to the fire escape door and forced the handle. It, and the locking mechanism, snapped off into my hand. I tossed it to the side and tore the door open, and partially off its hinges, then traveled at speed down the stairwell.

"Secure her safety, Pamela."

"You think he will retaliate again?"

I exited the stairs on the sixth floor and moved quietly through the maroon carpeted hall. The carpet had been replaced recently, the stench of dye still acrid.

"No. Yet the chance exists." While we were blind to his motives, we would be blind to his movements, political or otherwise. At least until more information was acquired. "Don't take any chances. She needs protection."

"Onto it." I detected the hint of concern in her voice, though she spoke firmly. I would reach out to contacts in Las Vegas. I had been operating on a scheduled timeline, but this event could force my hand in many ways.

"Interrogate her. Find out exactly what happened the night of the fire and the preceding nights, also."

"Yes, master," she replied. Pride swelled. Had I been closer, I would've shared the feeling with her. Over time, our dynamic as maker and child had developed into a mostly platonic one, but she always knew when to be deferential.

"Let me speak with Thalia. But, Pamela…" I paused outside my hotel room, fingers poised on the door handle, unable to form the words. They sat thick and dry like cotton in my mouth.

"I'll look after her," she said, her tone softening. With that, she was gone from the line.

"Víkingur," Thalia said with a growl. "She suffers as consequence to your actions." She spoke in ancient Greek, as she often did in my presence. I suspected I was one of few whom she knew that was actually fluent.

"And she is not yours to defend," I said, entering the suite, kicking the door forcefully behind me. Sigrid lifted her head from her reading matter and cast me an enquiring glance. She hadn't moved from the bed in the time I'd gone.

"Someone must step in when a dimwitted Norseman is incapable of leaving well enough alone," Thalia snapped. "Your own mother would whip you for such behavior. The telepath should never have gone to Oklahoma."

I scowled and kicked off my shoes. "The King will not go unpunished."

"You are in no position to see to that." She was right. I wasn't. Not yet, at least.

"I would consider it a favor if you were to investigate. Find the perpetrator. Search for evidence," I said.

This was met with silence. Neither of us offered favors lightly.

"I'll do you one better." The line disconnected.

I stared at my cell for a moment, considering her meaning, before tossing my phone onto the bed. Thalia was frequently interpreted as a loose cannon, though it was rarely the case. She acted with forbearance and forethought more often than not. Though, I knew better than to question the ancient Greek vampire. She was liable to bite my hand off before answering in earnest… and she had seemed to have taken an unusual interest in Sookie.

"Trouble?" Sigrid asked, resting the papers in her lap. I stripped off and tossed my mist-dampened clothes to the corner of the room.

"We have meetings," I said.

Sigrid set the papers aside and gave me a dubious look. She glanced across to the digital clock on the nightstand. "We still have time…" she pulled the bedsheet back revealing her naked form. She motioned for me to join her. Sigrid was lithe, though attractive, her small breasts pert and full. Her naked form softened her usual severe demeanor and sharp facial features. It had surprised me the first time I'd seen her bare.

"No." I headed for the bathroom. When she made a move to follow, I shot her a stern look, causing her to still.

"As you wish," she said with a slight, ambivalent shrug and picked up her paperwork once more. I needed to think. I need to disentangle everything I'd learned and see how this fit into the bigger picture. See how this could be used to my advantage. And most importantly, how I could ensure Sookie would be left alone and unmolested.

I stood under the spray of the shower, eyes closed. "What have you turned into?" she'd accused. She was breathtaking the night of the party; her curved form in the fitted black dress everything and more than what I'd remembered of her. I'd struggled to keep my eyes off her the entire evening. Her fiery disposition remained unchanged even in the years since our parting.

Then standing on the patio, the scent of her tears made the tips of my fingers, the tips of my fangs tingle with yearning. Her natural fragrance bloomed in the cool air, sweet and unforgiving, familiar and alluring. Her face, I'd searched for any changes, for any evidence of aging in the time since I'd last seen her, though I saw little. And those earrings she wore… I had stepped to her unbidden that night, as if guided by the hand of some god, and cradled one in my palm.

The emerald drops must have been on loan to her from Pam. A sad, mawkish joke from Pam to myself, I'd realized belatedly. I bestowed the earrings to Pam some years ago as part of a bet. She'd accused me of being at Sookie's mercy, at her beck and call like a salivating pup, and when I'd vehemently denied, Pam had said if she was wrong then I owed her.

Pam had been eyeing the bejeweled earrings off for some time; they were outside even her sizeable financial means. Of course, she had been smug, so full of childlike vigor, when I'd grudgingly handed over the velvet box some months later. I finally resigned myself. Given myself over to the fact that Pam had been right. The realization had come during the confusing period following the time I was cursed by the witches.

Sookie held me in her palm, much like the earring I had held in my own. Perhaps Sookie would never set me down.

"What I wanted?" Sookie had cried when were standing outside the ballroom, her nursing her broken hand. "None of this is what I wanted! None of it!" Her wild eyes, her words, had burned me like hot pokers. Now I could see then how age had affected Sookie Stackhouse. What was once accepting was now embittered. Hardened at the edges… but as usual, she had taken a terrible situation and sought a resolution through unconventional and unexpected means. It was her way, after all. I wondered now how her hand had healed. Had she cursed me through every spasm of pain? It would be deserved.

"I'd recognize the look of a jilted woman anywhere…" I turned the hot water tap on full. As the pressure and heat increased, I turned my back to it, allowing it to drum my upper back. I took it to mean things didn't work out with the shifter. If I ever to saw Merlotte again, I would squeeze his rangy neck until he whimpered and begged like a runt. She had spent so long defending him to me. Years. I knew he was worthless from the beginning. Had he left her for another? I would tear his head off. It wouldn't be a clean decaptiation, either. I hoped that she had not wasted a tear on that fool.

"You fix this, Eric Northman!"

I dragged my fingers through my hair, sorting through the tangles before reaching for the shampoo. I would try my best to fix her situation, but I wouldn't be consulting with Freyda. In fact, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she was a coconspirator. In terms of an actual fix, Pam had access to my assets, both liquid and investments. Sookie wouldn't accept any money, anyway. Especially not from me. She'd want it fixed through proper channels.

I finished bathing and dressed into a clean suit. I finished off by taking my time as I dried, combed and braided my hair back. It was a settling routine. Sigrid had retreated back to her suite to get ready also and when she returned, dressed in a slim-fitting black suit with dark hair pinned back tightly, she looked at me expectantly.

"The telepath," she stated.

I nodded slightly.

"Not entirely unsurprising," she said, lifting her shoulder in a slight shrug. She settled on the arm of the velvet settee. "Is she dead?"

"No."

"How badly is she injured?"

"She wasn't injured. Her business was burned down."

"And you suspect Felipe," she said flatly. She surprised me with her sageness.

"He left a calling card, but one which couldn't easily be linked to him. Did Freyda ask you to…?" I trailed off, not wanting to voice the implication. The likelihood was low. Sigrid was still in Freyda's bad books, but still, Sigrid had once held the role of unofficial enforcer of the kingdom. She would have the means, the contacts.

I couldn't imagine when she'd have time to organize the arson attempt. Sigrid had not long left the Gallery, and since then had been placed in my care as a further punishment. Freyda had encouraged me to utilize Sigrid as a gofer, a personal assistant. The more demeaning the task the better. I suspected Freyda had thought the punishment quite clever—placing her spurned sibling and ex-lover with her new husband. In fact, the consequences were quite the opposite.

Sigrid had come to me that first night, still gaunt and gray from her stay in the Gallery. But her dark eyes had been curiously sharp, like an eagle with its prey in sight.

She'd remained silent that entire evening. I'd waited. I'd sensed something coming. She didn't speak until we were alone and enroute to a meeting with a vampire business owner in OKC, one who had failed for the second month in a row to transfer his owed tithe to the monarchy. Sigrid pulled me into an alley, finally away from the surveillance of the palace. "Oklahoma will be mine," she hissed. "Assist me and your freedom is guaranteed."

We negotiated simple terms. At that moment, we hadn't the time to formulate anything in finer detail. And rather than shake on it, we fucked. Not out of mutual attraction, but rather because we both knew the act would incense Freyda. I took Sigrid against the concrete wall of the alley; hard, rough. One of the more satisfying hate-fucks of my undead life. We'd forged an interesting relationship since.

"Freyda had nothing planned once the telepath's contract was complete. It would've fallen to me to arrange something," Sigrid said, collecting her paperwork from where she'd left it on my hotel bed.

"So," I said, waving my hand casually. "The timeline…"

Sigrid's small, knowing smile crept slowly. "Go on."

"It's time to expedite it."

"Kurwa tak!" Her face lit with triumph, like a candle coming aflame. She's been pressing me for some weeks, dissatisfied with the pace I was moving.

Ducks in a row, I'd counseled Sigrid initially. She was as young as Freyda. It put her at a serious disadvantage. Oklahoma would be considered significantly destabilized were Freyda ousted from the throne, and I was then to also depart the state. Many wouldn't believe Sigrid a suitable replacement. She needed to build allies and assure Oklahoma's vampire population, small as it were, that leaving her in the throne was wise. Otherwise her rule would be quickly threatened. She would be a small fish waiting to be picked off.

"Christof will rule with me," she had stated unequivocally when we had first discussed the plan those weeks ago. Unsurprising, but for the best. He was now trying to slowly extricate himself from the Dakota court in such a way that no bridges would be burned. Someone had tipped off local authorities that the Dakota court was involved in trafficking V and that line of revenue had dried up for Freyda. That someone being me, obviously. So now Christof was free to extricate himself. The timeline I suggested to Sigrid and Christof to take the throne was two years. A mere blink for me, but apparently too long for vampires of only a century and a half.

I had a solid plan: Plant seeds of discontent in the royal security team. Bring them on side. Gather allies local and take stock of those across state lines. Then shore up Sigrid's and Christof's financial holdings—for it would be their initial capital that would be required in taking the kingdom and restoring it. It would assure them stability among the Oklahoma vampires. Then, finally, they could claim the throne.

I realized I was being overly cautious, but every step needed to land true. It would guarantee the best chance of success. And as for Sookie now?

I walked to the bureau and retrieved my second cell. A cheap burner phone. I'd brought several with me. I texted Giotto, a vampire residing in Nevada, an ally, and asked him to give me a call sometime to 'catch up' - i.e. sniff around and report on the state of affairs. I could trust Pam with seeing to Sookie's immediate needs, and Thalia would produce results, whatever they may be.

"So, how quickly? When can I make my move?" Sigrid asked.

"We will talk more after the final meeting tonight," I told her, pocketing the second cell. "We can see what sort of wiggle room we can acquire."

Freyda had been running the kingdom blindly. Laundering funds, squandering and then cashing investments, relying on dubious income streams, and demanding higher and higher tithes from her constituents. Many vampire had left Oklahoma already and those that remained did so with a wary unease. Perhaps they scented change in the air also and wanted to see where it led.

And finally, fucking finally, Freyda was listening to my counsel; but as far as I was concerned, too little too late. The damage rendered to the kingdom was done. Sigrid blurred to me and I grabbed hold of her roughly, kissing her deeply. When we parted her fangs were down. I smirked and stepped back, smoothing down the front of my shirt.

"Call a donor," I told her. "You're hungry."

"I may be young, but I'm not foolish." She bared her teeth her fangs slid back into place. The second one was visible but much smaller than the other, it still growing in. "I had a donor waiting for me back at my room. I am sated this evening. I am hungry for power only."

"Fine. Let's discuss the first part of our night then."

We sat beside one another and spread out the paperwork. We were in Tulsa on official business for the kingdom's behalf. A renewable energy trade show. Our official role was to scope out potential investments in promising startups and already established organizations. In recent years, Oklahoma had surprisingly turned into a home for many promising startups that focused on future technologies and green energy.

As a PR move, I'd suggested to Freyda that we begin to move the palace and kingdom-run businesses toward renewable energy sources and invest heavily in wind energy. It was a sizeable investment, but one we could manage. Within a decade it would pay for itself. There were long term benefits to consider too. Humans may be remarkably short-sighted when it came to the fallout of climate change, but our people would exist long enough to watch it all play out. Thankfully, Freya, cowed somewhat since the loss of face with the gold debacle, agreed. As punishment, Sigrid was sent alongside me to 'assist' as per her current lap-dog role, and I had been anticipating this trip since our intial plans for her takeover had been forged. We weren't here looking to better Freyda's kingdom, we were looking to establish a solid financial beginning for Sigrid's.

We rode to the trade show in silence. It would be a long evening. Following the event, we were to meet with Tulsa's local area sheriff and then head to Oklahoma police department for a briefing with the local supernatural crime department, headed up by a vampire and were.

I fiddled with my phone absently. My thoughts headed back to home, or to be more precise, to my current version of it: my apartment within the palace.

I mentally walked through the sitting area of my suite, through to my bed chamber, then to the back corner and into the walk-in wardrobe. I mentally passed the lines of suits and carefully chosen business-casual outfits. All picked for me by Freyda's stylist. I cared for none. I moved on to the very back of the deep wardrobe where a small set of mahogany drawers were built into the back wall.

Every drawer housed something different—my substantial collection of cuff links, ties, undergarments, socks, but the bottom drawer was different. Inside it, resting under the false bottom of the drawer, sat a suit jacket. Waiting to be laundered, still creased and stained, wrapped neatly inside a plastic bag.

I had stowed the jacket away after the night of Freyda's party; after the night of mine and Sookie's confrontation. It was a source of temptation. Her scent. How it clung to the jacket, the exact same way the humidity had clung to the air in Louisiana. She permeated the fabric. Her scent pure and un-blighted, unlike so many. The slight tang of her tears on the lapel. I had taken the jacket back to my room after the night concluded, folded it inside the bag and stowed it away. Temptation.

I refused to open the drawer. To even lift the false bottom. Yet the knowledge of its existence remained ever present—a woodworm burrowing into my brain. A constancy that continued tempting me. I couldn't even fully explain why I held onto it. Sookie was only a moment in time, merely a passing blip of experience soon to be lost to the grind of vampiric existence. I had not kept any mementos from our relationship or marriage. I'd disposed of them or left them behind in Shreveport, requesting Pam to deal with them along with the contents of the rest of my home. I had not even a single photo.

Still, that woodworm burrowed. Perhaps my actions were more akin to an alcoholic who left a full bottle of liquor in view on the bench. They could drink it at any time, yet they did not. Every moment was a conscious decision.

I'd tried diligently to erase her presence from my mind. Not so much the memory of her, but the consequences of her. Sookie was effusive. Every atom of my being was changed by her in some way, in some shape. I was different for meeting her. For knowing her. For loving and being loved by her. It was foolish to believe I could undo that change. I was fundamentally altered right down to my basest, most essential level. It galled me as much as it didn't.

And so I had thrown myself into life in Oklahoma as best I could. Freyda was excited when I'd first arrived to the state, though she initially affected an air of coolness and mild indifference. However, she was young, her slight cues were giveaways to me. Sookie had a better poker face than her. Freyda was in fact thrumming with excitement. I could feel her attentive gaze following me almost constantly. She included me in all her waking activities.

And from practically the first instant, she grated my nerves. That being the case, our marriage began with a brief, somewhat satisfying consummation. Freyda threw herself into the act with vigor; eager to impress, eager to please.

The last relationship I'd had with a vampire had been Pamela, which had been thoroughly enjoyable and rewarding, both as her maker and as her companion. We'd drifted away naturally after a decade or so. It wasn't a romance, but it had been a companionship built on lust as much as deep respect and love. I had no inclination to ever attempt a repeat of that.

Freyda continued endeavoring to court me. Our marriage ceremony was extravagant, with donors flown in from around the country, those only of my favored blood type. She met me at my apartment door every evening and would accompany me, arm in arm, attempting to coax me into conversation. She joined me in the donor room, trying to coax me into a menage-a-anything with any of the donors who caught my eye.

There were the smaller things I noticed too. I never saw her appear anything less than perfect, her makeup and attire was always meticulous. I'd seen how long it took Pam to prepare herself to that level. It took time.

After the first few weeks in Oklahoma, Freyda paraded me around the state for various meet and greets. For her, it was an attempt to simultaneously wow me and as well as show me off to her area sheriffs and subjects. For me, it was a much-needed consolidation of Oklahoma's vampire contingent. I needed to see early on who was with us or against us. At that point, I was trying to make good of my situation. Make use of myself as consort to better the state and support Freyda's rule.

These meetings were a good beginning point for establishing myself, establishing my presence and sniffing out spies. Every kingdom had many. But the continual interruption of Freyda's incessant public fawning threatened my ordinarily tight control. I could barely carry a single conversation.

In our private interactions, I found myself growing more annoyed, more exasperated. Freyda was fumbling with her kingdom, too concerned with keeping up appearances, mismanaging funds. Not at all interested in hearing my advice and my take on any of it. And the extension to the palace? Monstrous! Practically wiped out the kingdom's accounts. We had begun arguing over finances.

During our regular calls, Pam had joked that this made us a proper married couple, next would be the arguments about sex. However, for all of Freyda's sexual advances, I didn't rebuff a single one. Outside of our yearly contractual coupling, it was inevitable that we would end up in bed together. It was an easy way to take out my frustrations at my current situation. It was without emotion. It was clinical. It was rough.

Fucking a vampire could be freeing in some ways. You can loose yourself in a way you cannot with mortals. I took out my frustrations on her. I could be rough as I liked. Which, given my mood at the time, was very. I let myself to be solely focused on reaching release rather than on sharing an experience. But even as far as sex went, it was lacking. Freyda didn't feel right; her limbs her too long, her curves too firm, her eyes too cold. It felt utterly alien to bed someone I wasn't interested in. Someone that wasn't a part-fae telepath. Someone who did not hold my heart in her hands.

That being said, with our sex, I had deeper motives. My main purpose was to see if I could soften Freyda, appeal to her during those calmer moments post-coitus.

"Have you thought over my recommendations? Spoken with the financial advisers I referred?" I'd ask.

"Who can be bothered talking about that?" she'd respond, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Let's just enjoy the moment…"

What joy?

While coming to Oklahoma was never something I'd wished, I'd been hopeful I'd find some modicum of contentment working in a different arena, that I'd discover some meaning through using my skills on a new project and challenge. But for Freyda, my role was clearly established. I was to fawn over her as Queen; to strengthen her kingdom through my presence and repute alone; and finally, to prop her state financially.

So it was with great relish that I dropped that bomb the week after our marriage ceremony.

"The accountants are still waiting for the rest of it to come through," said Freyda. From the corner of my eye, I saw her navigating through some sort of online banking set up on her computer monitor.

"The rest of what?" I'd replied, pretending to examine the paperwork in front of me.

We had been holding court at the time. Vampires within the area were required to make a visit every two weeks to the palace (yet another inconvenience to them since we were some ways out of the city and area was large geographically) in order to deliver their tithe by check and in person. I wasn't sure exactly why this was required… Though I suspected it was something to do with marching her constituents past the prisoners strung up in the Gallery before they were given an opportunity to make a complaint about the exceptionally high rate of taxation.

We had been between visitors at that moment, and Freyda cut me a dry look. "Your wealth," she said. "The rest of your wealth."

"That is the rest."

She considered my answer, drawing in an unnecessary slow breath, licking her lips. Something in her eyes flickered. Annoyance. A flare of temper. The first hint of what I soon came to learn was her considerable irascibility. "That cannot be right." She spoke in a careful, measured manner. "Ocella and I went over your financials when I first considered drawing up the marriage contract."

I shrugged slightly, setting down the notes. The paperwork I'd been examining listed the month's takings of the previous attending vampire. He owned a chain of laundromats. Moderately successful. However due to the monthly tithe, he only just managed to stay in the black. Not even Sophie-Anne was that foolish. Though she did come to demand higher and higher tithes, particularly after Katrina; only her area sheriffs were required to pay and even then she provided services in kind. Security. A stable territory. Assistance in dealing with problem vampires. The use of her investigators and enforcers with impunity. She invested in local vampire-run businesses. Invested in the state's art and culture.

"My circumstances have changed since," I told Freyda, in response to her comment. Changed, as in I went from being a very rich man, to a man of barely-moderate wealth.

"There's only eighty thousand here!" Freyda cried. She'd glutted herself earlier in the donor room; so she was rosy enough for her face to flush with rage. I felt a streak of satisfaction. The first time I'd seen her come slightly undone. I immediately began plotting how else to cause such a reaction. Perhaps I could anger her enough to burst a blood vessel in her eye?

I took my excitement where I could.

It was a shallow existence on my part, truthfully. I was running through the motions. My life lacked a sort of substance, one I couldn't quite define, but one I'd possessed when I was in Louisiana. In its place rested another sensation, one I often tried to pinpoint. Was it the sensation of pushing a boulder up a hill? It was like a kind of uselessness. Or maybe it was closer to the feeling of a hamster trapped in a cage with nothing to do other than scamper idly in its wheel.

In downtime, my thoughts would always invariably drift toward Fangtasia, to my beloved Corvette, to the state of my other business holdings—all of them now in Pam's capable hands—to the humid summer evenings of the south, to a winding parish road that ended with a gravel drive. To a life often fraught but undeniably full of sweetness.

In the present, the car slowed and I lifted my head to check our whereabouts. The chauffeur pulled the car off the road and into a large turning circle outside the conference center. Sigrid began gathering up her belongings. I squeezed the phone in my hand, staring at it hard. Maybe if I stared menacingly enough…

Still, no message arrived.

Update, I sent to Pam.

:)

This is the only chapter in the whole series from Eric's perspective.