The key let us in easily enough to Lydia's apartment. The police tape was long gone, though things still looked more or less the same since the night I'd found her body. If anything, it was messier.

I moved through the dwelling and turned on the lights one by one. Even the lamps. I wanted to expel the chill left by the emptiness, but the air was stale. The memories too weighty. The mattress was now gone from the bed and the carpet in the bedroom ripped up too. Was that the forensics team? I guess they'd taken it for testing. I hoped so. Maybe they could find some microscopic piece of evidence that would point investigators in the right direction.

But who would be the ones to collect up her remaining belongings? Cleaners? Movers? Family? Who would pack the remains of this young girl's life into boxes, and then leave an empty shell of an apartment ready for the next tenant? Whose job was it to ready the apartment for the next person to live here, for the next person create their own memories here, memories that would erase the ones that had once lived and died here. The gloom seemed to seep from the walls and settle in my bones.

As Eric picked over the apartment carefully, I tried my best not to picture Lydia's last moments of struggle. Did she slip away easily into death without any awareness, like falling asleep in front of the TV? Or did she know it was imminent? Did she struggle and scream and fight until the fight was literally drained right from her?

"What are you thinking about?" Eric asked. I was standing at the door to her bedroom, my hand clasping the frame tightly.

"How much easier this would be if Floyd was her killer."

"You want her husband to be the murderer?" He stepped around me and into the bedroom, squatting down beside a carpet remnant. He lifted it and smelled the patch of tightly woven cream fibers.

"No. Not exactly. I want there to be closure. I want to rest easy knowing the culprit is already dead." I shrugged. "I realize that's selfish. Condemning an innocent man so this can all be over…"

"No. It's not." He dropped the carpet and walked to the closet, rifling through the clothes hung on racks. It was a mix of Lydia and Floyd's. "It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility that a young vampire would drain their lover."

"If only his alibi didn't place him elsewhere at the time of her death." I made a soft sound of disgust. "He was off cheating on her instead."

"Lydia could've framed him? An elaborate suicide?"

I considered this possibility for a few moments before shaking my head.

"I don't think so. I think she had more to gain by faking a happy marriage and proving herself to her father than she did by concocting an elaborate plan to frame her husband of her own murder. It's too… Agatha Christie. It has to be a third party."

"Maybe Ryker had her killed?"

I chewed on that possibility. "No. You can't fake that kind of horror and shock and grief." I tapped my temple. "Not to me."

I left Eric to rummage around the apartment, while I knocked on the doors of neighboring apartments. Most of them were empty. It was a Friday night in summer, and this was student accommodation, so the high vacancy wasn't surprising. A young woman answered one apartment a few doors down. I vaguely recognized her from the night of Lydia's murder, though she didn't seem to recognize me. I asked her a few questions about Lydia and Floyd to try and flesh out my understanding of their relationship. I knew from experience what friends and family saw of a couple could often not be a true representation of what really was. Lydia's friends saw them as happy and loving. Was that true?

"What did you find out?" Eric asked as we walked back to the car.

"It was a passionate marriage. They argued and made up frequently, both with great intensity, if you catch my drift."

"Thin walls?"

"Uh-huh. The neighbor can't remember hearing anything that night, though. I gave her my number in case she recalls anything else."

"That's good."

"No, it's not. I'm clutching at straws. Did you find anything new?" Eric shook his head and I sighed, my shoulders drooping. "Well, unless forensics comes back with something…"

"Doubtful," Eric said. I nodded. The trackers would've picked up traces of anything unusual.

"Then we're at a dead end."

"Well…"

"What?"

"It could be aliens, Scully," he announced, spreading his arms wide in a melodramatic gesture.

"You're the worst."

His laughter rolled and echoed through the empty lot.

"Where to now?" he asked. We were back on the road, headed toward the city.

"You're asking me?"

"As I recall you have a good nose for investigation."

"Perhaps your memory has become addled in old age; what I actually have is a knack at ending up in the middle of trouble."

"Then humor me," he said, bypassing my dig at his status of undead ancient. "What should we do?"

"We've exhausted all leads. There are no clues, to speak of, but I see two directions going forward."

Eric's brow lifted; he waved his hand in a gesture for me to go.

"Look at this idiot," I cried as a car with out of state plates pulled out in front of us in a four-way intersection. I leaned over and honked Eric's horn for him. "He came so close to hitting us. Tourists!"

"I appreciate the enthusiasm, Sookie," he said. "I'm in no need of a backseat driver."

"You don't have a backseat."

"Or passenger seat driver."

"Whatever, fine. Sorry."

He glared at me and then I glared at him and a second later we broke into laughter. The knot of tension that had been in my stomach all night long evaporated. It was difficult being with Eric one-on-one. Like with any ex, I guess. Actually, no, I don't think it ever felt this weird with Bill.

"Okay," I continued. "So, two directions. We have that dead vampire in New York, Thomas Whats-his-face."

"Thomas Chambras."

"Right. And then there's the were in Dallas that witch killed. I say our next stop is the palace. Thalia can wield some of her new-found political clout and talk to the King of New York; see what Thomas Chambras' death was all about. I can also talk to Amelia a little more about the Dallas witch, see if she can dig around a little."

"Maybe Fernanda was onto something about a curse?"

"It's a possibility." I prayed it wasn't true. A curse that affected supes and humans nationwide? What kind of witch was strong enough to exert that level of power over such a wide playing field? The notion chilled me.

•───── ─────•

Sophie-Anne's palace hadn't changed much in the preceding years. The only discernible difference was that most of valuable possessions were gone. Great works of art no longer adorned the walls in the foyer; and where I recalled once seeing an enormous Ming vase, now sat an empty cabinet. They'd probably all been sold, if Rasul was to be believed about the state of vampire finances in Louisiana while Victor was regent. The dayroom was still there, though the bright UV lights were off. Dim lights from the pool illuminated the empty room instead, causing the painted sky murals to look like a ghostly portal to an otherworldly dimension.

It wasn't hard for me and Eric to locate Thalia, we simply followed the sounds of rowdy arguing. It led us to the throne room where Rasul was dodging punches from the soon-to-be-crowned Queen. She was yelling at him in a fast-worded assault of Ancient Greek and, for once, Rasul wasn't his usual calm, suave self.

"She means to kill me!" he cried, dodging a right hook.

"I kill insolent barbarians who mean to tell me how to rule," she snarled and flung a chair him.

"Now, now, kids," Eric said, coming between them with his hands raised. "I don't want to put either of you in time out."

"Throw him in the torture chamber," Thalia snapped and then finally caught sight of me. Her features relaxed, fangs receded. She lowered her chair to the ground. "Get out, both of you," she commanded the two vampires.

They both complied, and she nodded for me to sit with her on an enormous red velvet lounge with ornate gold trim. Thalia appeared even smaller and paler against the ridiculous piece of Gilded-age furniture.

"Having a good night then?" I said.

"I do not wish to look speak of it." She glowered. Touchy-touchy.

"So, this is all yours, huh?" I said taking in the luxury of the room and its furnishings.

She rubbed her hand along the red velvet and smiled a smile of a cat who got the cream. "Yes."

"Impressive y'all got through the takeover unscathed."

"Hardly surprising."

"What I mean to say is impressive but not surprising."

"Eric assures me you were not affected by the takeover."

"Not negatively." A tingle of excitement shook loose through me again. "I'm now I'm debt free." I still couldn't believe it as I spoke the words aloud. "I get to buy my family home back. I can't thank you enough."

"Thank your husband," she said.

"Ex-husband." I pulled a face, and she shrugged blandly.

"Eric forced de Castro at sword point to write the check. I then decapitated him."

I sat stunned for a moment. Was she for real? Is that how it really happened? Thalia seemed not to notice my reaction.

"Rarely is assassination satisfying, but in this case?" She let out a deep, dangerous sound that was something between a laugh and a growl. "I only wished that you could see his face as it hit the ground…" She mimicked a look of exaggerated shock. "Very pleasing."

I struggled to come up with an appropriate response that wasn't just disgust. This wasn't the first time for me during the brief period we'd been friends.

"So, now you're Queen," I said.

"Not quite. The coronation is next month. I am the Queen-elect."

"Thalia… You didn't do this for me did you, did you?"

She shot me a sour look.

"You think I murdered a King of three states for an almost-human? That idea is very… human."

"I'll take that as a no." I exhaled heavily.

"I murdered the king of three states because I was bored," she said. My eyes widened. I certainly didn't expect that. "Ever since we killed Victor? Boring. Eric goes. You depart. Boring. And that Persian pig?" She made a sound of disgust. "He was an infuriating regent. Felipe a sexist, an ignoramus. I was sick of being at the whim of others. And done with Shreveport. Las Vegas was worse."

"What is even up with you and Rasul?"

"It is an old conflict," she said with a scowl.

"Now Rasul's your stand-in enforcer," I said. Her features darkened at this. "Please, try not to kill him. I like you both."

"Hurry and solve the murder, and I'll have no reason to kill the braggart."

"We're trying. It hasn't exactly been easy. Particularly since the victim's husband was conveniently killed by your own sword."

"He deserved it."

"He didn't murder her!"

"He still deserved it. Foolish baby vampire. He was no help to you. He told us everything he knew." She shrugged her nonchalance, and leaned back on one elbow, inspecting her nails.

"Which amounted to nothing."

"Exactly, he deserved it."

I rolled my eyes. This was going nowhere.

"Eric and I would like you to talk to the King of New York," I told her. "See if he can't tell you anything about a dead vampire there. There might be some link to Lydia Ryker's death we don't know about." I quickly filled her in on the other deaths and their strange cross-species pattern.

"Fine. But first we must talk practicalities." Practicalities. Her accent made the word sound so foreign, somehow both clipped and rolling over her tongue.

"Practicalities?"

"Have you considered my request?"

"Yes."

"And your answer?"

"No. I still feel the effects of your blood from last time."

"That's impossible."

I frowned. "Really?"

"Yes. None of my blood remains in you. I would sense it."

I chewed my lip. I would need to think about that more later. "So why, then, do you even want me to have your blood?"

"I know you are not so blind as this."

I blinked. "Is it because… you like me?"

She looked at me in a way that made me feel profoundly stupid.

"You are no longer protected by your husband's contract to the Queen of Oklahoma."

"Ex-husband. And so?"

"You are, as they say, easy vampire pickings."

"Who says that? No one says that."

She sat up and pinched my chin between her thumb and forefinger, holding my head in place. "It is said."

"You mean specifically? With regards to me?"

"Yes."

"Christ on a cracker. What about my position with Mr. C? That assures me safety."

"Yes, and vampires are so well-known for respecting the rules of other species," she stated flatly. I pulled a face at her comment, but she had a point. "You are currently a free agent and vulnerable. I will give you my blood. You will be mine."

"Oh, no. I'm not planning on being anyone's." I tried to shake my head, but her grip on my chin was fierce.

"Sookie."

"No. I've said no. You've forced your blood on me before, Thalia. Not again."

"It is in name only. I have no interest in a human pet. The blood is incidental."

"If it's only in name, then why?"

Now she looked at me as if I were a young child asking her to explain the birds and bees. I raised my brows. I would until dawn wait for an answer if I had to.

"You know why," she said, clearly unhappy at having to share. "It is like the last time."

"Like the last time," I groused, "what do you even mean? You weren't Queen then."

"Things weren't… politically stable. You were hurt."

"They are now, and I'm not injured."

"Rarely for long," she shot back.

"Are you going to demand my services?"

"No."

"Are you going to force me to do your bidding?"

"No. I will not interfere with your life, if you do not wish."

"Well… I'm not saying I'm opposed to us being friends. But I won't be yours."

She grunted softly and released my chin. I rubbed it. It felt bruised.

"You attach too much significance to the word 'mine'. It means no one can touch you. It means you have the power of a Queen behind you."

My resolve began to soften. Was it really just a word? There'd been a time where I felt like a ragdoll that vampires fought over to claim just so they could use that stupid word. They didn't care what state, alive or dead, I ended up in provided they could claim me. Mine. Ugh, that word!

But the idea of having the Queen of Louisiana protecting me…? Well, it held a certain kind of appeal.

"You have no ulterior motive here?" I asked her. I wasn't sure I could or should trust any response, but I had to ask. Honestly, the fact I was considering this at all made me question my own sanity.

"None. You have endured enough, telepath. Let me do this." I could sense she wanted to say more, but she fell silent.

I inhaled deeply, ruminating on the idea. Thalia, out of all the vampires I knew, wanted nothing from me. In fact, aside from our strange friendship, she'd gone to great pains to ensure I had as much freedoms as possible with no expectation of anything in return.

"Okay, fine," I said, not giving myself a chance to reconsider.

She lifted the sleeve of her black shirt and nicked her wrist with a single fang. I sucked at the wound as perfunctorily as I could manage. There was no ladylike way to do this. Her dark eyes took on a reptilian sheen.

"Do you need my blood?" I asked. She rebuttoned the sleeve at her wrist with a vampire speed and dexterity.

"A bond?" She considered this for a fraction of a second. "It would officiate our connection. If only temporarily."

"I'm not suggesting anything permanent." Sharing blood for the first time, the effects would fade.

"That is not on offer." Her gaze traveled to the doors that Eric disappeared out of. "I have no interest in playing with fire."

"Only take enough to make it official," I said quickly. I still couldn't quite believe I was offering this of my own volition. Maybe I really was growing up? Or maybe I was feeling a little high from the small quantity of Thalia's blood.

"You are delicious, telepath." Thalia said, after all was said and done.

"Yeah, no kidding," I said flatly. True to my wishes she'd only taken a tiny amount. Unasked, she sealed the bite mark on my wrist with small daub of her own blood. The wounds disappeared as if it they'd never existed.

"In my time," she said, leaning back into her original position on the lounge, "women were the revered backbone of society. Men were duty bound to military service as soon as they were of age, either training or at war. We women maintained society, we were educated, owned land and associated mostly among ourselves."

I nodded, not willing to speak. I'd never seen her speak at length before.

"We valued the arts, song and dance, life and culture, and above all—sisterhood. We had great responsibility, we bore sons that went to war, we looked after the homes, farms, livelihoods in their stead, but we lived."

"Are you really a Spartan?" I asked. It was poor vampire etiquette to ask who they were in their living days, but Thalia was being uncharacteristically open. I couldn't resist the opening while I had it.

She nodded. "Yes. Sparta afforded more rights to women than most of the ancient world was accustomed to. I have been pleased with the changes in modern world. But," she said, her features darkening, "it displeases me to see how my fellow male brethren so willingly lump women with work and responsibility and then walk over you when it suits. Filth."

"Over me? Me specifically?"

"Yes, you." Her voice had become severe and clipped; it was the way I was used to hearing Thalia speak, back when I only saw her now and then at Fangtasia. Back then she was lazier with her English, dropping the articles and mixing up nouns as if she barely knew the language.

"So, it's not because you pitied me that you…" I nodded to her wrist.

She let out a soft sound, almost a growl. "Pity you? I am leveling the playing field for you, telepath."

I rejoined Eric and Rasul with a little pep in my step. They were in a giant library looking over some paperwork. I was pleased to note the library's contents appeared not to have been raided in efforts to liquidate Sophie Anne's assets. Both men lifted their heads in careful appraisal as we re-entered the room; Rasul merely smiled though Eric remained cool-faced.

"Have you begun organizing the coronation?" I asked Thalia, mostly to fill the awkward silence.

Everyone knew what had just transpired in the next room, but nobody was going to mention it. I was the elephant in the room.

"I have secured an event planning business," Rasul said. "One that Queen Sophie-Anne hired for several galas."

"You did?" Thalia asked. Judging by her expression, she was completely divorced from the coronation planning and this was all news to her, including the hiring of the event planner. Although Thalia organizing an event was a little like the big bad wolf planning a kid's birthday party.

"Yes," said Rasul.

"Are you in charge of handling the event?" I asked Rasul.

"Yes," said Rasul.

"No," Thalia said sharply, at the same time. After a weighty pause she finally relented. "Fine. Yes."

Rasul looked extremely pleased by this and we shared a secret smile. Back in the other room, I'd begged Thalia to go a little easy on Rasul so I wouldn't have to worry about either of them while Eric and I were investigating the murder.

I'm sure this decision suited Thalia anyway, I somehow couldn't picture her attending meetings with an event planner and deciding on themes and color schemes. In fact, there were quite a lot of things about running a state that I just couldn't picture Thalia doing.

"I'm taking you home," Eric said. He was already waiting by the door, car keys in hand.

"Hold up, didn't you want to wait and see what Thalia finds out from the King of New York?"

"No," he said. "I'll come back later." He turned on his heel and stalked out. Okay, then. I said my goodbyes to Rasul and Thalia, warning them not to fight and followed Eric out to the car.

"What's your problem?" I grumbled, after he peeled away from the curb, tires spinning.

"Nothing."

"Uh-huh," I said and shook my head. I was no mood to get into it now, anyway.

I retrieved my phone from my purse and called Amelia. I asked her to see if she could rustle up any more information on the death of the werewolf in Dallas. She said she'd reach out to the coven there and see if they could give her any info on the witch who was the wife of the dead were. Amelia told me she'd been apparently squirreled into hiding to avoid the wrath of her wife's pack, but that was all Amelia knew. She promised to try and find out more.

Eric pulled up outside my place and waited for me to finish the call.

"I don't know how useful that's going to be," I told him when I hung up. "If they're hiding the witch, I doubt they'll want to talk to anyone, even Amelia." I moved to unfasten my seatbelt, but Eric's hand darted out and grabbed mine.

"Was that your choice?"

Long moments of pointed silence on my end passed before he unpeeled his fingers from around my wrist, and I let the belt finally retract. Didn't take a genius to figure out it wasn't Amelia he was talking about.

"Yes." I looked him square in the eyes so there was no mistaking it. No second-guessing my intention in what I had done.

I wouldn't let vampires and their messed-up politics back me into another corner. Not again. Never again. I wouldn't let them steal my choices from me. Control had to be mine. If that meant forging an unconventional alliance with Thalia, then so be it. While she seemed to care for my wellbeing, I knew for the most part that she's didn't care about me. Not really. She didn't care what I did, who I saw, how I conducted my day-to-day, or night-to-night, life.

"You don't trust me to look out for you?" he asked.

"I think you look out for me… as much as you are able."

He visibly stiffened at my phrasing, and I knew I landed a sucker punch. I'd echoed his words from the night before we'd divorced, when he'd said, 'I love you as much as I am able…' That phrase had jangled around in my head for weeks like someone bouncing a rubber ball inside my skull. The statement had never lost its bitter edge.

"It's not about you," I finally amended.

"You don't understand Thalia," he said. "She is brutal. And ruthless. Her motives are never clear."

"Have you ever considered that automatically assuming Thalia has some underhanded, evil intentions with me says more about you and how you regard me as a person than it does about Thalia?"

I was more than my ability. More than my blood and mortality. Thalia seemed impartial and uninterested in those aspects of me. Her interest lay in my wellbeing as an individual. As a woman. I expected a cutting remark about how I didn't understand vampires, their nature and their customs and blah-di-freaking-blah, but instead, surprisingly, Eric didn't respond.

For once I'd rendered him speechless.