"Sookie…" I felt the covers rustle. I groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head. "Sookie," the voice whined again, drawing out my name into several long and unnecessary syllables.

"Go away, Amelia. I'm sleeping off my hangover."

"Please, Sookie. I did something bad. Real bad…"

I pulled the blanket down and cracked open a single eyelid. "What?"

She looked utterly miserable, hair and makeup mussed and smudged. Eyes red rimmed. "I slept with Hannah last night… What am I going to do?" She flopped melodramatically onto her back and covered her face with her hands.

"Hannah?" I asked. She whined in the affirmative. "Hannah-Hannah? As in straight-laced were-lynx Hannah that I work with?"

"Yes!"

I thumped her with my pillow. "Now what did you go and do that for?"

"Hey, stop that!" She tried to grab the pillow from me, but I whopped her again.

"I work with her! And you have a boyfriend!"

"Hannah is a babe on legs—like I could say no to her!"

"And what about the guy your seeing?"

"Oh my God… What am I going to tell him?" She groaned again at the prospect. "Maybe I don't have to tell him?"

"And maybe you're an idiot!"

She scowled at me. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. The sun was streaming through the windows which meant it was sometime around late-morning. And my headache pounded, which meant I hadn't had enough sleep given my unwelcome visitor. Diantha appeared at the door, her eye makeup equally as smudged as Amelia's, her spiky teal hair poking out in haphazard angles.

"Who'dyafuck?" she asked Amelia.

"Hannah," I informed curtly. This was bound to make things awkward at work for me.

"Nice," Diantha said and sprawled on the foot of my bed. "She's hot."

"I know, right?" said Amelia and sat up in bed beside me. I elbowed her.

"You did a bad!" I said.

"But it was so good…" Amelia whined. Diantha laughed. I scowled some more. "So, so good," Amelia repeated.

"Danny and I kissed last night." I blurted it out, more to myself than to the girls—the memory of it returned all at once. The warmth of his lips. His soft hand cupping my cheek.

Amelia gasped, her face coming to life with excitement. "Finally!"

"And I don't need you to match make," I told her firmly.

She scoffed. "Like you would've taken the initiative without me!"

"You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do. But I promise to stay out of your love life. From now on," she hurriedly conceded, after catching my stink eye. "So, give us the details."

"We're going out for dinner and a movie tomorrow night."

"Invite Hannah," Diantha said to Amelia. "Make it a double date."

"No!" I nudged Diantha hard in the stomach with my foot. She cackled with laughter.

"Maybe I should ask Hannah out on a date?" Amelia said. She pulled her cell from her pocket. I snatched it from her hand.

"Maybe you should break it off with the guy you're currently dating first!"

The phone vibrated in my hand and a message from Hannah popped up. Where'd you disappear to? I was looking forward to spending the day in bed… I rolled my eyes and handed the phone back over to Amelia. She squealed with excitement and began texting her back.

"I need an Advil," I told Diantha.

"It'd be more effective to just sedate the witch," she replied.

• •

The next day, Sunday, saw me working overtime in the office. Desmond phoned me at home after lunch and asked me to come in as soon as possible to catch up on the work that had lagged behind in my absence, all thanks to my current extracurricular "consulting" role. Honestly, I was only too happy to oblige. I had woken up with the worst case of the nervous jitters. My date with Danny was that night and I. Was. Nervous.

Mr. C's call came when I'd been in the process of tearing through my closet looking for something date appropriate. It had been years since I'd been on an honest-to-goodness date. It sent my brain spiraling. What if I said the wrong thing? What if I made a fool of myself? What if he realized I wasn't all he'd built me up to be? What if the handsome prosecutor was out of my league?

I dressed for my date, figuring there was a good chance I'd be going to meet him straight from work. I went with my first choice for clothes--a knee-length, A-line sundress in red that buttoned up the front and featured white embroidered flowers. I paired it with a white short-sleeve cotton cardigan. A little more conservative than when I dated in my mid-twenties. But I had quite the collection of scars now and I didn't particularly like showing them off. And particularly not to prospective human beaus.

I hopped on the next streetcar, giving my were guards a little wave as they stepped on behind me. They weren't even bothering to act covert in my presence anymore. Pam had never responded to my voicemail on the Friday night, and I vowed that I would call her at first dark tonight. The office was near empty when I let myself in using my swipe card. I did a quick sweep with my mind and located a handful of associate lawyers on the main office floor preparing for court on the Monday and another new associate, the one Aubrey had been referring to as "Fresh Meat", in the library researching.

I went upstairs, checked in with Desmond. I knocked softly on his office door and stuck my head in. He was so lost in his own work that he barely noticed my arrival, offering only a distracted wave.

I dove headfirst in the piles of paperwork stacked on my desk. Amelia's necklace made the task infinitely easier once I put it on. With my shields down I could focus solely on the task. I zoomed through the papers that needed filing, walking up and downstairs to the case file room with the bundles. After that I caught up on my emails, thankfully only one was marked urgent. It was Ms. Latour, the other senior partner at the firm, asking me to follow Walt Buhler again, the money-hiding sugar daddy. He apparently had an important business meeting downtown later in the week that she wanted me to scope out. His wife believed he was meeting his financial adviser. I replied to Ms. Latour and agreed to the job. Fingers crossed this would be the last time I would need to tail Walt. I had a good feeling.

After catching up on all that, my next task was to get stuck into case research.

Research still wasn't my forte, but I was getting better, and Mr. C had proven to be an invaluable mentor. To be perfectly honest, I still wasn't sure if law was "my thing" but I was grateful for the challenge of my new role. I'd barely scraped together a high school education. I always knew I was smart, that was never a question, but it was more that I wanted to prove to myself and to the world that I had the wherewithal to make something of myself if given the chance. Here was my chance. And here I was making something of myself.

Mr. C stuck his head out of his office door. "I have a request for you, Sookie." I looked up from my screen with an expectant smile. I had been waiting for his request, it was approaching dinner time and Mr. C was mighty fond of the steakhouse down the road. "I need you to work late this evening."

"Oh," I said in surprise. I checked my watch, it was just after six pm. "I actually have a date this evening. I've pretty much caught up on everything, though. I was just going to do a little research on that demon contract. The Yanis case. I could stay till about 7:30?" Danny and I had planned to meet downtown at eight.

Mr. C shook his head. "No, it's important you remain in the office. At least until I say so otherwise."

I searched his face for clues. It was a highly unusual request. "You mean I can't leave? Is this because I'm going out with Prosecutor Sullivan?"

His eyes widened in surprised at hearing this news. "You have a date with Daniel Sullivan? I didn't realize. No, you are quite free to see whomever you wish, well, provided there is no overt conflict of interest."

I was confused. "Why do you need me to stay in, then?"

"I cannot at this moment divulge why it's important that you must stay close."

"Stay close…?" I reached automatically for the gold cross around my neck but, of course, I instead encountered Amelia's hummingbird necklace. I thumbed it nervously. "What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

"Perhaps you could phone Mr. Sullivan and request he reschedule? I'm sure he'd be quite amenable. Or…" Mr. C checked his watch. "It may be possible you could make a late dinner?"

I was at a loss. What in the world was happening? "Okay. What time do you suppose it will be fine for me to… leave the office?"

"Oh, I'd say nine, perhaps nine-thirty?"

"Does this have anything to do with the two giant weres Pam has following me place to place?" I asked. "Or is this to do with Lydia Ryker's death?" Were the two linked?

"Now that you've thought of it, I believe I'm quite ready for dinner myself. Could you please order in my usual at the steakhouse?"

I took a deep breath and tamped down the sensation of rising panic.

"Mr. Cataliades. Desmond." He didn't catch my gaze, focusing instead on smoothing the lapels of his suit jacket. He was nervous! "Are we safe?" I asked uncertainly.

"As safe as one can be. Though I'm afraid I cannot tell you more at the moment, Sookie. Just sit tight."

Sit tight. Sure.

His office door closed behind him, and I leaped across the room to the nearest window, half expecting to see the city in flames. If Mr. C was nervous then something big was up. He was never nervous. Never.

Outside, the late afternoon sun peeked out from between voluminous fluffy white clouds. The tall oak trees of Lafayette Square swayed gently in the humid breeze. Cars made their way slowly down the avenue, less traffic than the usual weekday but still normal for a Sunday; there was even the odd pedestrian walking by. A picture of normality. I let out a slow breath.

I returned to my desk. I straightened the stapler and hole puncher and then fiddled with the mousepad so that it was perfectly aligned to the edge of my desk. I liked having my desk neat. My things set a certain way. My papers as organized as possible. I liked to believe that an organized space made for an organized mind… Yet my brain was alight like a battle zone. Thoughts zinging back and forth, getting progressively worse. Was I in danger? Was the firm in danger? Was it Mr. C? Should I call the weres guards inside?

Okay, just focus and breathe. You are safe, Sookie. You're safe.

I'm safe.

Mr. C seemed assured it would be okay if I stayed close, so I had to operate on the assumption that that was true. I took another deep breath.

I phoned a food delivery for Mr. C. Next, I called Danny. I told him I was detained by a work emergency, and we agreed to meet two hours later than planned. A huge concession, given he had to work the next morning too. He was, thankfully, understanding. (That added a little tick in the pro box for him.) I supposed, if anyone was going to understand the demands of working in the legal environment it would be him. The food arrived quickly, and Mr. C went down to the street to accept the delivery himself. Another oddity.

I grabbed the thick stack of Yanis files from his desk while he ate and crossed the office floor to the supe library. The entrance to the library couldn't be more different to the library down on the main floor. The downstairs library was adjacent to the bullpen and housed everything pertaining to human law. The door to it was wooden with a simple lock that was never utilized. This door was heavy, reinforced with steel and silver. It required me to swipe my employee card and then press my thumb on to a digital device that scanned and then pricked my thumb. Some sort of blood magic, Hannah had told me. My blood sample was required to allow me access. The room was lined with hundreds upon hundreds of books in floor-to-ceiling mahogany shelves. The cooler temps and sounds of soft whirring came from the climate control system, though the room still smelled warm and musty given the age of most of the texts. And there was not a single window in the room, only a small table in the center on which sat a forest green banker's lamp, and beside the table, a simple wooden chair. It was essentially a vault. A little overkill for a law library? Why, yes, yes it was. But no doubt all books inside were worth a mint.

I felt the familiar flood of magic travel through me as the vault accepted my presence. I propped the door open with a chair and placed the files down at the table. Technically a no-no, but since it was Sunday and the office empty, it was more or less acceptable that I could leave the door open a little. I didn't like feeling locked in this room.

I plucked the books I needed from the relevant shelves and got started. Demon case law was overwhelming to say the least. All demon law relied heavily on precedent, and those precedents varied depending on lineage. What was legally acceptable for one clan of demons might not be legally acceptable in another. Often that resulted in opposing precedents being fiercely argued over in court. And half the time it wasn't even about demonstrating how sound or reasonable either precedent was. Rather, the argument fell to how much clout and honor was held in the family line of the demon in question.

One famous case, from a supe court up in New York, saw two feuding families quarreling over a land dispute. It became so heated and dragged on for so long that the judge ended up executing them both. On the spot. With an enormous ceremonial cleaver. And it was considered a fair result. Demons.

The Yanis case would hopefully not be so fraught. Mallock Yanis was a half-demon who resided in Louisiana and had hired a number of other demons off-realm from a contractor by the name of Azrath. Azrath was to complete a construction project on Yanis's property on the outskirts of Lafayette. Two of the demon workers died during the construction phase due largely to the poor working conditions, and now criminal charges had been placed on Yanis and Azrath by demon authorities. So, it was my was job to help build a case that proved our client's honorable intentions and Azrath's culpability. Messy, messy, messy.

I was head down for the next two hours, reading everything I could about the Azrath lineage and trying to go back through the records for any similar cases. Discovery from the prosecution (who were based in the demon realm) had provided a little, but one couldn't rely on that alone, you always had to check yourself.

The older texts were hand-scrawled on either vellum or papery thin parchment. It required the use of a digital translation program in order to translate the incomprehensible chicken scratch into modern English. It wasn't always a foolproof method however, some of the older tomes would need to be translated at cost by a third-party service. Demon case law went back many, many thousands of years. I took note of all the texts that would need to be deciphered by the translation agency. It was easy to pick out the family names from relevant sections once you learned the distinctive writing style, and those were the ones that needed translation.

The sound of heavy boot steps climbing the stairs dragged me from my research. I cocked my ear toward the open door. It was more than one set of feet. The strides sure and heavy. I froze, heart skipping a beat.

Was this what Mr. C was nervous about? Were we under attack? I crept to the door, moving the chair and opening the door a little more to see who'd arrived. I'd slam it shut if I had to and then lock myself in. There wouldn't be anywhere safer in this whole damned building. Three figures emerged at the top of the stairs and I restrained from gasping.

Thalia. Eric. Rasul.

The three strode in single file toward Mr. C's office, one after the other. Each covered head to toe in blood, large swords strapped to their backs. What on God's green Earth…? I pushed the heavy door open and stepped out. Neither Thalia nor Eric seemed noticed my presence, though Rasul flicked me a quick glance and a wink. Eric limped slightly, his left arm guarding his side.

What in the—

"Come in," Mr. C said to them, suddenly appearing at his office door. He gestured for the three to enter. I stood by, gob smacked, as the door closed behind them. I quickly gathered my notes and files from the library and locked up behind me. I dumped them on my desk and stood, rooted in place. What was going on behind those doors? My hands trembled. It felt like someone had replaced my blood with soda. I was fizzing from the inside out.

What the heck was going on?

I'd already taken off my necklace earlier as a precaution. Maybe if i was lucky I'd catch a stray thought? I'd caught the thoughts of vampires a time or two in the past... I crept toward Mr. C's office. I strained to listen to the indistinct murmur of voices in low urgent tones.

Whose blood were they covered in? Was Eric okay? What was he even doing back in Louisiana? Though I caught no thoughts, I strained to hear what was being said, only catching snatches of words: "…as expected… no losses that were… successful petition… Ancient Pythoness…" A male was speaking, Eric or maybe Rasul.

The door opened suddenly and I jumped, emitting a startled squeak.

"Ms. Stackhouse. Thank you for your efforts this evening. You are now dismissed from your duties for tonight." Mr. C raised his brows. Busted. I flushed redder than a tomato. And I knew I would be hearing about this first thing tomorrow. "I believe you have a date this evening?"

I keenly felt the gazes of the three vampires behind him, though I dared not to look past his shoulder.

"Yes, sir." I said, with a nod. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

I hastily collected my belongings and booked it out of the office. I caught a cab downtown and waited at the bar where Danny and I agreed to meet, though it was still a little early.

My mind raced at the light speed, thoughts tumbling one over the other. I didn't know whether to be scared or worried. I didn't know if I needed to be scared and worried. And all the worry and not-knowing just made me cranky. I checked my phone for the tenth time. Nothing. No message. No call. I glanced over my shoulder; the were guards had stationed themselves at a booth in the corner of the bar. One lifted his chin in acknowledgement.

I tried Pam. Her phone was either disconnected or off. I dialed Fangtasia. I impatiently listened through the canned response and dialed 9 to reach the bar when prompted. A girl answered the line and introduced herself as Nina. She told me Pam was out for the evening and then hung up on me. Fudge.

A hand clasped my shoulder and I shrieked.

"Sookie!" It was just Danny. I slumped back against the stool-back and let out a ragged laugh.

"Sorry," I said.

"Is everything okay?" He joined me at the bar and flagged the bar tender with a wave of his hand. "You looked at me like you were expecting the grim reaper!"

"Long day," I said attempting a bright smile. "But I'm okay." His expression didn't falter though I sensed his shrewd prosecutorial appraisal of me from behind his kind gaze. He didn't miss a thing, this guy. He thankfully kept quiet and ordered us both a drink.

I clasped my gin and tonic tightly and we managed some small talk, I wasn't even sure how since my brain was so frazzled and I'd left my necklace back in the office. The combined effort of maintaining my shields and trying to act calm made me a crappy conversationalist. I waited what I thought was an appropriate amount of time and excused myself for a bathroom break.

I stood inside an empty toilet cubicle and scrolled through my contact list on my cell. I quickly landed on the right number. It connected after the first ring.

"This is Bill."

This was so not how I pictured this date going.

"What in the hell is going on, Bill?" I demanded.

"This isn't a great time to talk right now," Bill said, not even bothering to comment on my less than stellar greeting. The fact alone was fear inducing. My knees weakened slightly, and I sat on the closed toilet lid. I caught snatches of murmuring in the background of the call.

"Is that Pam?" I demanded. "Why won't anyone tell me what's going on?"

"I have to go, Sookie," he hedged. "I wish I could tell you more, but my hands are tied." The line went dead. I yelled in frustration and the door leading into the ladies' room slammed open. My were guard's face appeared above my cubicle door.

"Miss?"

"Really!?" I said not bothering to hide my disgust, I stuffed the phone back into my purse. What was he afraid of? That I'd flushed my own head down the toilet? I pushed open the cubicle door and marched past him to the basin, where I washed my hands and smoothed down my hair and outfit. Efforts utterly in vain as it did nothing for the wild and flustered look in my eyes.

The were's thoughts hit me like a kick to the stomach. Vampire takeover. Gotta stay close to this one tonight.

Oh, dear God.

"A takeover?" I asked his reflection. He blinked and his mouth worked silently as if searching for a safe response. "A vampire takeover," I prompted. "That's what you were just thinking. Is that true?"

He nodded after a beat, taking the knowledge of my telepathy in stride. "Yes, miss."

"Was it successful?" I asked.

"Felipe is no longer King."

My heart stopped and restarted the way my old Malibu would on cold mornings.

Felipe had lost the throne in Louisiana. The presence of Thalia, Eric and Rasul in the law office earlier that evening made a sudden ghastly sense.

"Take over by which state?" I asked. The question loomed as high and as menacing as a waiting guillotine. The answer would effectively tell me if it was my neck was either up for auction or the chopping block. But the guard couldn't—or wouldn't—give me an answer. I suspected he simply didn't know.

So, I did what any self-possessed young woman might do: I reapplied my lipstick and reunited with my date at the bar. Then we went out for dinner and dancing.