The only thing he had eyes for as he came through the door was Lucifer's back to him. That's what his focus was on. The shape of Lucifer's shoulders under his rumpled suit jacket. The tension and anger that held those shoulders taught. The black hair that Eric had touched not twenty-four hours before. The spots where wings should be sprouting from shoulder blades. The trembling anger he was somehow holding in check. Well . . . perhaps not holding in check, because he had Betty shackled to the wall in what appeared to be Betty's actual torture chamber.
Betty's shackles were made of silver, the metal digging into her skin at the wrists and ankles and neck, tiny wisps of smoke still coming from the wounds telling Eric she hadn't been in the constraints for that long. This wasn't something that Lucifer had planned out—those constraints had been on the wall long before Lucifer had chased Betty down to her basement and into the room she used to torture vampires. And this was a torture chamber, of that Eric had no doubt.
The room was clean, very clean—but Eric could picture it filled with blood. There weren't a lot of torture devices, but all of them were specifically made to illicit the worst damage to a vampire while slowing down their healing abilities. Everything was specifically made to hold someone like Eric—not a place to hurt humans. Eric couldn't help but wondering if there was a separate torture room for humans—or if Betty simply preferred to hurt those who could live forever. The art of torture always had the risk of being cut short when a human went ahead and died of a heart attack—but torturing an immortal? You could stretch out the act to exquisite proportions, Eric supposed.
None of that mattered though because all he could see was Lucifer—and how Lucifer actually didn't need his help at all. It was clear that the moment Lucifer had woken up, he'd regained his invulnerability and meted out his own revenge, no vampire boyfriend required. Eric was unsure what to do with that information—he was used to being the one to go on a rampage, the one saving the damsel in distress. How did you deal with a damsel who could save themselves? What even was the point?
Considering it was Betty strapped to the wall and not Lucifer, Lucifer didn't need any saving. Not even a little. Except perhaps from himself. If that burning rage beating against Eric's ribcage was any indication, Lucifer was consumed by his anger and not thinking straight. Eric wanted nothing more than to join him in the torture of the Queen who had kidnapped him. Together, between a devil and a vampire as old as Eric, they could really agonize the woman. The idea, to be quite honest, turned him on.
Eric did have to give Betty her dues, though. For everything Lucifer had done so far, she seemed to be mostly fine, physically—but she sure could act. All those awards hadn't been for nothing. This room of pain told Eric that Betty was a vampire with similar tastes to his own, but caught in her own trap she was really pulling out all the stops. Every word she sobbed, every twitch she made, portrayed her as a frail old lady—the persona she gave to the general public. Little Betty White, America's Favourite Grandma, was begging Lucifer to stop hurting her.
If Eric didn't know better—the fact that she'd been the one to kidnap Lucifer—he would have believed the act. But you didn't stay relevant in Hollywood for near an entire century without knowing your craft, and the awards that now littered her den's floor were a testament to just how well Betty White could fake her tears and fears.
Although he had to admit—when an apex predator realizes they aren't the apex predator, vicious lions could turn into the biggest of cowards. She might be acting the injured victim, but the terror might just be genuine. It was Lucifer at the other end of the pain, after all. If anyone knew punishment, it was him.
"Where the bloody hell is he?" Lucifer asked, his voice low and thick.
"Please, Lucifer—Mr. Morningstar—you have to believe me!" Betty's voice was frail and filled with fear. "I haven't done anything to him. I left him be! He's still in Louisiana!"
"Well that's the biggest load of bollocks I've ever heard, isn't it? You can't possibly expect me to believe you'd threaten me but leave my vampire alone."
"But I did!" Betty sobbed. "Taking you was punishment enough."
Lucifer growled, the sound icing along Eric's spine. When the devil growled, it sounded like hell was breaking loose from the ground. He put any vampire to shame. And he was growling because he thought Betty had done something to Eric? Were they both focused on saving the other? Well if that didn't mean they were in love, what did?
That revelation into Lucifer's thought process changed something in Eric. Where there had been only anger—fueled by that connection between the two of them—he felt a warmth spreading through him at the thought of the devil's love. They'd both woken up tonight literally hell-bent on finding the other. Love. Eric was feeling loved. By someone just as strong and ill-tempered as himself. While he still wanted to hurt someone, he found he wanted to gather Lucifer into his arms and kiss the fiery man even more.
Lucifer wasn't meting out justice because of what had been done to him, but rather because he was searching for Eric. Be still my non-beating heart, Eric mused.
The devil, meanwhile, was completely invested in trying to get information out of Betty that she simply didn't have. She was telling the truth, even if he didn't believe her. And unlike Eric, Lucifer couldn't feel that Eric was okay, or raging, or even just awake. He was also clearly blind to the world around him—he'd yet to turn around to see Eric and Bill standing in the doorway.
Lucifer had what seemed to be a poker of some sort in his hands. As Eric watched, he brought the metal tip closer to Betty's face. She winced back, eyes closed in preparation for the pain that didn't come. It was silver, Eric realized. A silver branding iron with a wooden handle for Betty to use it without hurting herself. It seemed she knew precisely what it was intended for and she hung on the wall, eyes squeezed shut as Lucifer tortured her not with the silver itself, but with the knowledge that it could come at any second, not knowing when. The devil was dealing in the torture of suspense and it seemed he was good at it.
"Lucifer." The name came out of Eric with all the force of his emotions. There was fear and anger and love in that single word. Fear for the other man's safety, anger at the woman who had stolen him, and love because he'd found his person and he'd found him safe, if in a bit of a state. All of the other things fell away—screw Betty and Bill and the ballroom of hurt staff upstairs. All he wanted was Lucifer—nothing else mattered now that he was here.
Lucifer froze at the sound of Eric's voice and Bill coughed beside Eric, looking surprised at the immediate reaction.
It seemed as though Lucifer would drop the silver branding tool, but a moment later he had his free hand around Betty's throat, and Eric could imagine the red eyes that looked deep into her being as she stared up at him in surprise. "Seems you did lie," he said. "Seems he is here, Ms. White."
Eric didn't know why he bothered to correct him. He wanted Betty to suffer. But he felt it was important for Lucifer to know that wasn't how it had happened. He wanted Lucifer to know he'd come for him, even if it had been pointless. "I came as soon as I knew you were missing; where you were. I came to help." Eric paused. "But it seems you don't need my saving."
Lucifer stepped back from Betty and the silver tool fell to the tiled floor with a clang. He turned on a heel to see Eric standing there, just a few feet between them. Those brown eyes Eric had come to know were indeed glowing red with a twisted anger, no doubt promising suffering to Betty when he'd gazed upon her. "You came to save me?" he asked, confusion flickering through the red gaze. "But I thought . . ."
"That Betty was going to hurt us both?" Eric asked, moving deeper into the room and leaving Bill behind in the doorway. "She did. She stole you from me. That's torture in its own right."
This gave the devil pause, and a moment later the light went out of Lucifer's eyes as he processed those words. "Is that so?"
"You are mine," Eric intoned. When Betty made noises of protest, he snarled at her, fangs glinting in the cold white fluorescent lights of the room. "He is mine," he repeated, for her alone. He moved forward, closing the space between them so he could grab one of the man's hands. "She stole what was mine and would hide behind bureaucracy to keep you. She wanted to keep us apart for her own gain. And she brought my King into it to seal the deal."
"That's not true, Eric," Bill said from across the room.
"Shut the fuck up, Bill," Eric yelled over his shoulder. "I'm not done with you either."
Lucifer seemed to melt at Eric's claim on him. Eric suddenly found himself pulled into a tight embrace, the untidy devil clinging to him almost desperately. Lucifer's body was like a live wire; he was tense and trembling and quite possibly just barely in control. Eric breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of the man he'd flown halfway across the country for. His own arms found themselves wrapped around him, returning the embrace with just as much need. He held Lucifer tight, burying his face in that perfect spot where neck met shoulder, eyes shut as he simply . . . took the man's essence in.
Heaven. It was most definitely heaven to be in a fallen angel's arms.
Betty, despite still being shackled, chuckled quietly behind Lucifer. Coming from such a waif of a woman, it sounded more evil than it should have. "Your King's not lying. He wanted to free you from your responsibilities. As far as I'm concerned, neither one of you is fit to be in a position of power and I have every intention of telling the Authority everything that's happened." She shifted, jangling the silver chains that bound her. "Now let me the hell out of these."
Eric growled at her over Lucifer's shoulder, itching at the idea of dealing out revenge upon her. It didn't matter that Lucifer was safe—although he still didn't understand how she'd managed to make him vulnerable when her humans had gone to get him—she'd taken the man mostly to hurt Eric and it had worked. He wanted nothing more than to even things between them. And quite frankly, when a vampire tried to steal another vampire's human . . .
Eric let Lucifer go, bending down to gingerly pick up the branding iron, looking at the silver tip to see it was in the shape of the cursive initials B.W. "What exactly is stopping me from killing you?" he asked the Queen, letting the silver brand get close to her face as he asked it. Betty cringed away from it, the silver around her neck hissing as it found new skin to burn against.
Despite her apparent fear of a temporary brand to the face, the Queen still managed to scoff at Eric's threat to her life. "You would dare to kill a Queen? Do you know what would happen to you if you killed royalty? You would wish you were dead."
Eric snorted at her comment. He pointed a thumb behind him toward the door where Bill remained. "You know what happened when he killed a Queen? He became the fucking King of Louisiana, that's what."
Eric could see the alarm in her eyes when he told her that. "Well, that's different," she admonished, thoughts flashing quickly behind her eyes. "He killed the Queen in his territory, and Sophie-Anne needed dealing with, from what I heard. He did the Authority a service by ending her life—and what better repayment than giving him her title?" Her dark blue eyes shifted from Eric to Bill and then back. "If you kill a Queen outside your own territory, you will pay a price, Eric Northman."
"You think you don't need dealing with too?" Eric growled. "You go across state lines to kidnap a man who isn't vampire or human and you think you're well within your rights?"
"I told you he belonged to me. He lives in my territory. You were given a warning to leave him alone and you ignored it."
"He wasn't in your territory!" Eric yelled, not caring that his voice echoed in the room. "He came to me, and you do not have control over the devil. You don't even have control over humans. Do you know who the Authority sent to deal with the last King who crossed the line and decided humans weren't people and as such didn't have autonomy?"
Betty's eyes grew wide in surprise. "Russell," she whispered.
"Yes, Russell. Where did he go, I wonder? Who fucking dealt with the problem when the Authority didn't want to get their own hands dirty?"
Betty was silent.
Eric turned to look at Bill. "Who, Bill? Who did they fucking demand take care of it?"
"It was you, Eric," Bill said, sounding defeated. "They made you deal with it—and in succession, you forced me to help."
Eric turned back to Betty. "Not only did Bill kill Sophie-Anne, but he also helped deal with Russell Edgington. Now Bill's King, I'm still the fucking Sheriff, and no one knows where Russell is. Your feeble threats about the Authority mean nothing to me. Do you understand? Nothing."
Eric flashed his fangs at the Queen, thinking. "Maybe death is too simple a revenge," he mused. "Maybe I should put you next to Russell. Let the two of you spend eternity side by side."
He turned away from Betty, heading toward one of the shelves that held an array of her weapons. He picked up a pair of gloves, frowning at the dainty size of them. It would have to do if he wanted to wrap enough chains around her to subdue her. His threats weren't empty ones—he had every intention of burying her beneath concrete, just like he'd done to Russell. Death was too sweet for the person who had tried to steal love from him. It was too . . . final. No possibility of continuing to punish her. Certainly not in this lifetime anyway.
"Wait. Wait!" The alarm in Betty's voice was real enough, but Eric didn't care. Not even when Lucifer put a hand on his arm, to see if Eric really meant to do something to the woman. Eric pulled on the first of the gloves, grimacing at the fact they didn't even remotely fit his large hands. The second glove ripped at one of the seams, but he figured they'd protect him from the silver all the same. He picked up a long chain of it and let it slide from the shelf.
"Please," Betty begged. "I know the answer to your question!"
"What question?" Eric asked, not really caring what she was talking about. This would feel good. Chaining her up. He wouldn't be able to take her to Shreveport just yet . . . but he could get her stuffed into a travel coffin and still have time to arrange a flight for the both of them before he himself needed to retire for the day. Perhaps he'd even sleep in her bedroom—with Lucifer at his side, too.
"What happens to a vampire's soul," Betty said, finally catching Eric's attention.
Eric stopped what he was doing, only holding the one chain as he stared at the white haired woman pinned to the wall. "Come again?" he asked.
"What happens to a vampire's soul," Betty said. "I know what happens to them. That's the reason you are with Mr. Morningstar, yes? To find that answer."
"It's the reason we met," Lucifer said sourly. "Not the reason he's with me."
"What happens?" Eric asked, torturing the elegant woman suddenly the last thing on his mind. "Tell me."
"Only if you let me go," Betty replied petulantly.
Eric sneered. Typical. Buying her freedom with information that should be common knowledge.
But it was Lucifer who stepped into the conversation. "You aren't being set free without a promise that you will leave me and my vampire alone. I need acknowledgement that you understand Los Angeles is my city before it is your city. You answer to me; not the other way around."
Betty scowled, the look ugly on the older woman's face. "This is my city," she hissed at the devil.
"Is it?" Lucifer asked, squaring off on her again. "Tell me, Betty White—as soon as I woke up, who took ownership of your home?"
Betty glared at him silently.
"Do you think I couldn't do it again, if you so much as overstepped my boundaries?" he asked. Lucifer gestured with one arm. "Did you see what I did to the people who think you are a perfect employer?" Lucifer frowned. "I didn't mean to kill the vampires. That was regrettable, I agree. But let them be a lesson for you, my Queen of California. You do not cross me, you do not underestimate me, and you sure as bloody hell do not own me. Do I make myself clear?"
Eric could feel anger building in his chest again, unsure who it belonged to. The defiant look in Betty's eyes seemed to promise no agreement, and neither he nor Lucifer seemed to want to think of a world in which they could not have each other. But suddenly the light went out of Betty's eyes, as if she finally accepted that she was defeated. In regard to controlling Lucifer, anyway. "Fine," she grumbled. "You are your own devil, free of my constraints—and of my ability to keep you safe."
Lucifer gave a silent laugh. "Darling, I hardly need your protection."
Betty gave him a sardonic grin. "And yet somehow, my human operatives still managed to abduct you."
Lucifer looked uncomfortable at that comment, but tried to brush it off by tugging on his suit. "I also want you to leave Mr. Northman alone. He is my vampire, and while in my city falls under my rules, not yours."
Betty sighed. "Fine. But he also does not fall under my protection."
"Agreed," Lucifer replied. "But you will not seek to harm him, either."
Betty made a face. "I feel like I'm getting the rotten end of this deal."
"You are," Lucifer said. "Consider it your punishment from the devil." He gave her a cold smile. "Now tell my Viking the answer he seeks."
Betty shook her chained wrists, glaring at Eric. "Not until I'm free," she said, sounding like an affronted grandmother who refused to share her hard candies until the grandchildren behaved.
Eric considered. Did he really need to know that information anymore? Know where his soul had ended up—how much was it worth now that he knew it was somewhere and that he'd meet it again someday? Not to mention the words Lucifer's father had said to him . . .
But even though he knew there was a good chance he wasn't damned when he died, Eric really did want to know where his soul was, who had it. So against his better judgement, he nodded to Lucifer who pulled a little silver key from his pocket and began unshackling the Queen of California. The little woman sagged in relief as the last shackle came off and she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, ignoring everyone as her flesh finally began to heal after being covered in silver for however long Lucifer had been at her.
Eric knew the pain of being silvered, and despite his impatience with the Queen, he didn't interrupt. It was tiring—and the healing afterward would leave her drained and hungry. But it wasn't like some asshole had come in here with a bomb filled with silver shrapnel and set it off—like what had happened at Godric's nest . . . before Godric had met the sun.
Eric frowned, thinking about Godric and how he and his soul had finally come back together. Had his change of heart at the end of his life been enough to save him from an eternity of torture? He hoped so. He really hoped so.
Betty sighed and finally opened her eyes, giving Eric a frosty look. "Our souls don't disappear," she told him, clearly not knowing what information he'd learned since he'd last spoken to her. "But they aren't with us anymore."
"Yes, I've figured that out," Eric told her, unimpressed with the information. "And that when we meet our true deaths, we come back together and will be judged for the sins we committed even when we didn't have souls to buffer our actions with."
"Been studying, I see," Betty smirked. She shook herself and Eric noticed that she had healed rather quickly—almost all of the scarring from the silver was gone from around her neck.
"I'm friends with angels now, I'm afraid," Eric said. "Sometimes they're able to provide insight, even if they only have partial information."
Betty seemed to process that information, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Lucifer.
"Having second thoughts?" Lucifer asked. "I'm afraid you've agreed I'm a free man, my Queen. And this is the City of Angels, not the City of Vampires, I'm afraid. If you value the lengthy life before you, you might want to learn to accept your new hierarchy."
Betty sighed and her gaze slid back to Eric. "No one keeps the souls, you have to understand. They are left alone."
"Ours souls are left alone?" Eric asked, not quite understanding. Left to wander the world alone? Lost?
"Our souls remain where our bodies die," Betty informed him. "Not where the vampire virus takes hold necessarily, but where our first death takes place. They are pinned to the land by the energy of our first death, forever waiting for our bodies to catch up with them."
"Our souls are stuck?" Eric asked. "In one spot?"
Betty nodded. "Where you died, that is where your soul shall live."
Which was where, Eric thought. Somewhere along the Scandinavian coast—but he sure as hell couldn't remember the exact where. Besides, it wasn't the same shoreline anymore, not with humanity constantly changing the world around them. But somewhere, halfway across the world, his soul was stuck to a plot of land where he'd drawn his last breath. And it would remain there until the day he finally, truly, died. Strangely enough, he found it comforting. The idea that some small part of him remained stuck in his homeland, on the edge of a long forgotten battlefield. Forever waiting for Valhalla.
It was somehow . . . fitting. For his Viking soul.
"Where did you die?" Lucifer asked Betty, not aware of the cogs turning in Eric's head.
"Right here," Betty said proudly. "In the den."
"So you remain close to your soul even in death," Lucifer mused. "Interesting."
"Judging by this little torture chamber, I'd say it doesn't make much difference as to whether it stops her from committing unforgiveable sins," Eric said, looking around at all of the weapons and implements of torture in the room.
Betty giggled at that. "Oh, please. Don't think me foolish enough to assume that being close to my soul makes me a better person. But why bother move from this house? It served me perfectly fine in human life, and continues to do so even now. But I admit, I do like knowing that my soul is close to hand. I don't like losing things that belong to me. Other vampires, well." Betty looked over toward Bill. "Others hope being close to their souls will change them for the better."
Something nagged at the back of Eric's mind at that admission. Of being close to her soul. And when Bill coughed from his spot over by the door, Eric frowned. He turned slowly, studying the nervous looking King of Louisiana. "You knew," he said quietly. "You knew and when I came to ask you pretended you didn't."
"I couldn't tell you, Eric," Bill said. "It was information I wasn't allowed to share. You have to understand, even though you're my Sheriff, I can't tell you everything."
"Bullshit," Eric said, as he continued to think. "Absolute bullshit. You can't tell me you didn't know this information before you were King."
Bill looked alarmed at the accusation, and when his eyes slid to look elsewhere, Eric knew it for the truth it was.
"You knew before you even showed up in Area 5," Eric said slowly, anger beginning to build in him. "Between that and knowing about Sookie's special breeding, no wonder you came back to Bon Temps as soon as your last fucking descendent died."
Bill frowned but didn't say anything. It was true. It was all true.
"So you knew before you were even kinged by the fucking Authority. So why not tell me?"
Bill finally glared back at Eric. "Because I was told not to!"
"By who? The same bitch you fucking killed to get your position?" Eric accused.
"Does it matter?" Bill asked.
"It does, yes!" Eric said. "You fucking let me traipse around the goddamn continent looking for answers. You pretended like you didn't know anything! I fucking believed you." Eric hissed, wanting to wrap a silver chain around his fist and pummel Bill directly in the face, over and over. God, how he detested the goddamn weasel of a vampire. How typical this was of Bill. Totally something he'd do. And Sookie fucking loved him?
It was Lucifer's hand on his arm that stopped him from chasing Bill down and hurting him. "Eric, Viking . . ." There was a strain in Lucifer's voice.
Eric looked back to the devil, the only thing in this room that he cared about. Those brown eyes, nothing like Sookie Stackhouse's, looked back at him, love and concern in them. "I agree that perhaps your friend deserves punishment. But is it really your responsibility?"
"He's lied to me," Eric said. "Lied to us both."
"Perhaps," Lucifer agreed. "But did you know he was going to relieve you of your position in Area 5? He was going to set you free from your constraints and let you . . . go wherever you wanted to go."
Eric paused at that, looking back over at the alarmed Bill who, for all his faults, hadn't run away like a coward.
"I went to Bill's to ask for your freedom," Lucifer continued. "And he was more than ready to give it to you. Happy, even."
"I think you've done enough for the Authority to be over your sentence from them," Bill said. "And I think we both could benefit from the distance, don't you think?"
Eric glowered. "Yes." He didn't know what to think. Bill willingly doing something nice for him? It didn't make sense—except that last sentence. Bill being nice to Eric simply to get rid of Eric? Okay, yes. That did make sense.
"Perhaps punishment could be put off for another time?" Lucifer encouraged.
Eric looked at him. "Why are you stopping me?"
"I'm stopping you because it's not worth hurting yourself."
Eric stewed, hearing the message behind Lucifer's words.
Lucifer pulled him closer so that their heads were almost touching. "You're willing to let the Queen live simply for giving you information you seek . . . why not give the King the same reprieve for what he had already offered us just this morning?"
Eric sneered at Bill, but a moment later his shoulders slumped and he lowered his head. "Fine."
Lucifer seemed relieved. "A smart decision, Viking. I was hoping at least one of us could see reason before letting their rage overtake them."
As if reminding her of the night that had stretched out behind her, Betty cleared her throat. "I demand restitution for the children you have killed."
Lucifer turned on her, frowning. "While I regret ending their lives prematurely, I would point out they were just as invested in killing me. And considering you did kidnap me, I would call forgiveness for my abduction restitution enough, do you not agree?"
Betty growled, the cheetah-like sound surprising coming from the Queen. "Fine," she spat out. "But you need to leave my grounds now. Good luck finding a cubby hole before the sun comes out," She pointedly glared at Eric. "Get out." Then her gaze turned to Bill. "You too."
When no one seemed to move, she pointed a single shaking finger toward the hall. "Get. Out. Now!"
Well, Eric sure as hell didn't have to be told twice.