Chapter 73: Bad Ass Bitch
[there are a few small time jumps because I goofed. We start moments before Olivia was arrested]
"Send them in," Eric did not look up from the contract proposals sitting at his desk in his grand office.
Inside he was afflicted, haunted by Olivia's words in the car before departing in the private jet back to Shreveport. Guilt and anger gnawed at him so he distracted himself with work, which there was no shortage of. Eric did not want to speak to another soul tonight, but despite the party being over and the Vampire Authority being gone, the house was still full of visiting overnight guests (fucking and eating upstairs as if this were the 1920s). Servants were still cleaning up the ballrooms from the night prior and moving the furniture and delicate antiques back into the palace. There were still a few hours of darkness before he had to retire to his rooms where he would do more work, the only difference would be the solitude. He wished she was still here. He loved working with her.
The house was a symphony of whispers, clinking of crystal glasses and echos of vacuums running on rugs. Suddenly, a knock on the door. It was one of the guards indicating someone wanted an audience with the King. He nodded briefly, returning his attention to the contract.
"You called me sir?" James asked, entering.
"I did not," Eric flipped a page, reading more bullshit clauses and initialling the corners.
"Oh. I thought you might have since you sent my party back to Shreveport without me," James paced oddly around the room, pretending to look at the books on the shelves. "Olivia included."
His fountain pen halted, scratching the paper. He hated the way James said her name. Eric then remembered he did indeed, want to do a little more than speak to James. He looked up to the vampire. James wore black jeans and a crew neck, with a red unbuttoned shirt over it and had a blank look on his face, instead of his usual smugness.
Eric motioned the vampire to approach with the quick curl of his fingers. James approached his oversized mahogany desk, the only piece of furniture Eric had purchased for the palace since all the Queen had was a pathetic and dainty boulle writing table. It was perfectly reflective of how much work Sophie-Anne actually did in her reign.
"Put your hand on the table," Eric said, looking the vampire in the eye.
James' jaw clenched, and suddenly his face wasn't so blank with indifference anymore. Quietly, he obeyed, conservatively keeping his fingers together.
"What can you tell me about Olivia?"
"She's your accountant and she has some serious anger issues," he shrugged.
Oh, she was so much more than that. "Which part of that sentence is most important?"
James looked down at his exposed hand, still unsure of its fate. "She knows the passcode to the coffers?"
Humour wouldn't save him in a thousand years. Eric opened his drawer and pulled out a silver letter opener. It was the same one Olivia impulsively grabbed and cut her palm open in a dare for Pamela and Chow. It made him happy, to rebrand its memory. Eric unceremoniously drove it into James' hand, planting the dagger deep into the hardwood with the same rage he felt as he watched them dance the night prior. The same rage coursed his veins as he watched James look at her with desire, as he saw his hand smooth over the lower back of her dress. The same unmeasurable pain of knowing that there was no power in the known universe, no matter who killed, no matter how much power he acquired, that no matter what he did, nothing would ever allow them to really be together. The vampire grunted out in pain, his fangs angrily showing with a hiss.
"She is mine, and you do not touch what is mine," Eric thundered, knowing those words were merely superficial. Their bond was a mockery. A farce. A promise of what could be but never would.
James winced with his whole body, watching steam jet out of the wound, oozing thick vampire blood between his fingers. But the dagger remained immobile. The mark that it would leave on the expensive table would also make him happy. James' other hand reached for the leather-wrapped grip.
"Do not touch that until I say so," Eric hissed, enjoying James' pain, since it was better than feeling his own.
The King took his seat again and returned his focus to the contract, searching for the item he last read before being interrupted. He could hear James' flesh faintly sizzle, and his heavy breathing through the pain. He squeezed the edge of the table with his free hand, fighting the urge to pull out the knife, making a small continuous creaking sound. It all added a brilliant and satisfying layer to the orchestra of sounds of the palace, drowning out the absence of her heartbeat.
Finishing his paperwork, he filed it and opened another when there was another knock on the door. Even James looked.
"Godric, please enter," Eric said cheerfully, recognizing the unmistakable power of his Maker even from behind the door.
The boy quietly made his way to the settee by the window, taking notice of James. "Is this a bad time?"
"Yes," James squeaked.
"Not at all. Did you enjoy the party?"
"Sure. It was nice catching up with Pamela. Sheriffdom suits her."
Like you wouldn't believe. Godric sat down, his shoulders much more relaxed than the nights prior. His Maker wore his regular linen trousers and tunic, his chest tattoos peaking from the opened collar.
"May I fetch you something to drink?" Eric offered.
"I had plenty at dinner last night, thank you."
Eric smirked. His Maker's appetite was minuscule compared to what it once was. The King put away papers as best as he could, but there was a lot to do still. Transfers of deeds, contracts, and assets were a lot more work than it seemed. He was desperately looking for any trace of cash inflows in any of these papers, but you can guess what he found: the crown was bleeding money. Eric was starting to miss the blood money right about now.
"Has the Authority given their verdict?" Eric asked. The hearing had ended just a few hours ago, so the chances were slim. They would deliberate for nights if not weeks.
Godric crossed his legs. "I think you managed to give them bigger issues than a dead Queen."
"Oh, excellent," Eric picked up an envelope and opened it with his bare hand, butchering the paper into ugly pieces. His letter opener was in use at the moment. "I live to die another night."
"Glad one of us is having fun," Godric said coldly. They both knew he lost his sense of humour long ago.
"Make it two," James sneered, trying to distract himself away from the silver embedded in his hand.
Godric glared at him for a long moment before turning back to Eric. "Have you decided what you are going to do?"
"About which problem?"
"Take your pick."
Eric sighed. "I rather fix my werewolf problem myself than play war russian roulette with Vampire Authority. Being King is bad enough, I don't want them adding General to it."
"Sensible choice. Do it swiftly, quietly and most importantly: permanently."
They both knew that killing Alcide Hervaux would not fix the issue. When an alpha wolf falls, another one takes its place and the revenge train continues.
"I may have a solution to it, but you're not going to like it."
"How bad?"
"Like, Halifax 1917 bad."
Godric's brows creased immediately.
Eric looked at James, questioning if he should reveal what Russell Edginton shared with him in his presence. He had big puppy dog eyes, and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. The silver had corroded his flesh, forming a sizeable hole between the bones of his palm. Every time his flesh attempted to heal it burned again, perpetually torturing him.
"Do you renounce the California King and pledge your true feal-"
"Yes, yes I do," James cried before Eric could even finish the question.
The King rolled his eyes and snatched the dagger off the table. James immediately receded away from the desk, squeezing his holey fist with his good hand in relief. The knife had left a sizeable stab mark, and the corner of the desk was covered in blood stains. It dent didn't bother him. He knew that every vampire from now on would know exactly their fate when Eric ordered them to put their hand on the table. Sometimes the threat of pain alone was more useful than the actual silver.
"What have you learned?" Eric asked, cleaning the blood off the knife with a silk napkin.
"Not to touch your things, sir."
"Correct."
"May I go back to Shreveport now?" He asked in wishful thinking, wanting nothing more than to put a lot of distance between himself and the King.
Although Olivia should still be protected, and James was extremely good at his job (despite the base level of disloyalty found in vampire spies), Eric had better plans for James. In fact, a political spy mind could be useful right now.
"No. You will stay in the palace for now. Take a seat."
James politely sat on the settee across from Godric, but on the furthest cushion from Eric without further questions. The King snapped his fingers twice and the trained guard closed the office doors, muffling the orchestra happening outside to almost silence.
"There is a way to control werewolves, using their own primal instincts against them. I can somewhat steal Alcide's pack right from under him."
Godric examined Eric with his silver eyes, jaw clenched. James, still holding his hands against his chest, looked curious.
"Werewolves are susceptible to vampire blood addiction, about tenfold compared to humans," Eric finally blurted out, fully expecting another sermon from his Maker.
The room was quiet for a moment.
"Russell Edginton," Godric muttered. "That's how he does it."
Eric nodded, half relieved. "Correct. The King of Mississippi doesn't have an agreement with the local pack or hires werewolf mercenaries to do his bidding. He gets them addicted to the point of domestication. I've seen it."
"Well, that's a bit risky, innit? Raising an army of wolves right next door to another army of wolves," James pointed out. It was an annoyingly good point.
According to the latest tally, there were more wolves in Louisiana than in Mississippi, and Russell might take it as hostility. Plus, all the other Kings and Queens Lousiana Crown owed money to might think Eric was looking to Viking his way out of paying. A much bigger war could unfold. At the same time, he couldn't imagine that Russell revealed his hand not hoping this was exactly what he wanted Eric to do. To what end, he didn't know.
"Whose blood?" Godric asked.
Eric felt a chill run through his veins. He knew how sacred Godric viewed blood bonds to be, and even after Eric explained the bond blockers in the V they sold as drugs, he could tell he still hated the bastardization of such a powerful and personal relic.
"Mine, probably. I can chemically stop the bonds, but it needs to be strong enough to dominate them completely."
Godric shook his head, his disappointment souring into anger. "You're going to start selling again? After all the lengths you've gone to get out of it?"
That was the part Eric was unsure of. He really didn't want to risk pissing off Alonso, or put Pam and Olivia in such a precarious position again. Eric also did not want to tarnish his own honour like this. He hadn't had a choice then, but he had a choice now, and this isn't how he saw himself as King.
"Bloody hell, it was you! Selling V on the dark web, that was you!?" James pieced it together.
Eric wouldn't confirm or deny. "I haven't figured out the logistics yet," was all he told Godric.
There was another knock on the door. Eric sighed, annoyed at the commotion. "Yes?"
The door swung half open, and the guard took a small step into the room. "Miss Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, on line two."
Eric nodded, and the guard disappeared behind the door once again. He looked at the landline phone on his desk, the blinking light went completely unnoticed. Judging by the time they must have landed, but this usually only granted a simple text. He picked up the handset and before he could even say hello, Pam spoke.
"Olivia's been arrested."
Alcide stormed straight to the Chief of Police's office before being hauled there, anger crawling on his skin, his bones vibrating to let the wolf out. When he entered the room, Mike Trahan was already standing up, yelling at Lieutenant Moreland. The phone was ringing incessantly. The two men went silent at the sight of him, but their anger was still visible on their faces. Suddenly a small woman, whats-her-face the secretary, closed the office door right behind him. Even she was in a sour mood.
"Son, can you enlighten me as to what actual FUCK are you doing?" Mike Trahan yelled.
Alcide straightened his back, feeling every muscle of his neck tighten. He had been in this room before, being ordered to stop his investigation by his crooked superiors, Trahan included. But Alcide refused. He worked in the fringes, slowly making his moves, circling the vampires like a wolf. It all seemed so inconsequential now that he knew the real truth. Eric Northman murdered Debbie.
"Investigating crimes, sir," he barked.
"I told you to close the goddamn Northman case!" A vein popped in his forehead.
"I did, sir."
"Then why in God's name was that vamper doing in my fucking lobby? Do you want to be placed on leave again for insubordination, officer?"
The phone kept ringing on the hook. All Alcide could see in his mind's eye was Debbie's body splayed on that dirty motel floor. He should have known it all led to this. He knew, deep in his bones, that Debbie would never have killed herself. But not even in his worst nightmares had he imagined Northman would be behind it. He studied the case back and forth, he knew every minute detail of her death. It had been ruled a suicide within 30 seconds of the first cop arriving at the scene. Every piece of evidence collected was through the lens of a suicide. No one even questioned the lack of prints on the gun. The odd location - by the front floor - in which her body was found. It was all coming together - the real face of the monster he was hunting all along.
"I found a substantial money laundering point in Greenwood, at a laundromat. It just so happened that Northman's accountant is involved."
"You can't bullshit a bullshitter son. You are personally involved with these people, and you spent the past months breaking your direct orders. Tell me this ain't because of some pussy and a bruised ego, Hervaux."
"It isn't," he said through his teeth. The suggestion alone made his blood pressure rise. He loathed himself forever even touching her.
"Chief Trahan, if I may," Bill Moreland interrupted. "Hervaux, as out of line as he may be, has found a CI willing to testify against all of Northman's cronies, Olivia Carson and the current Fangtasia owner included. Following the money is sometimes more effective than following the drugs."
"The streets have been quiet for months, Moreland. There ain't no V in the streets, in the drunk tank or in the ER. Why can't you just leave it alone?"
"Because I made an oath to justice. So have you."
Mike glared at both of them, before pointing a finger at Alcide. "You are off the case. Moreland takes it on."
"What?! Sir-" Alcide roared.
"I was a prosecutor in Baton Rouge for 11 years, if the jury hears you fucked that lady Desmond Cataliades will move for a mistrial and get it. I've known that son a bitch for decades, and he doesn't take cases he can't win."
He approached the table in desperation. "I can nail every single one of them. My CI only trusts me-"
"Too fucking bad. You put your dick in it when it was already fucked," he spat. "If I'm gonna let you swing for someone of the likes of Eric Northman, we can't miss. If you want revenge, Hervaux, you best find it elsewhere 'cause I ain't about to let you embarrass this precinct again."
"But-"
"That's final, you hear? You play cowboy with me one more time, and you are done for Hervaux. Done."
"I'm sorry, is no one going to point out the obvious solution here?" Jessica eyed the room with great disdain as if this whole thing were one great inconvenience. "Just kill him. No Anthony, no problem."
It had been a very strange day. Night. Year. Olivia found herself sunk in too soft cushions of Eric's black leather couch in Fangtasia's office, slurping the icy bottom of a Sonic Diet Pepsi, her only demand after being released from the precinct. She demolished a whole cheeseburger and fries, and simply couldn't stop drinking the sugary drink. Eric offered to drive Olivia home about 100 times and asked if she was okay with another 100, to which she said no and yes 100 times. Liv knew she would pace around her house until morning anyway, so might as well hash out the situation now. She was facing jail time dammit. What would she tell her mother?
Before Olivia could tell Jessica to shut up, Pam oddly brought up a reason. "And kill a state witness? Are you retarded? That will put all of us in jail. But I guess that's alright with you, jailbait." The vampire nodded at Jessica's modern gothic schoolgirl outfit.
Olivia, Pam, Eric and Jessica were all crammed in the small back office. The place was long closed for the evening, and despite everyone being gone, the whole building felt smaller than ever.
"Can someone explain to me what she's doing here?" Olivia nodded at the other redhead.
"I work here," Jessica said. She certainly was dressed like she did.
"You're underage," Olivia set her empty drink down, feeling her stomach ache from being too full.
"I'm a vampire," the redhead shrugged.
"You were turned, what, a year ago? You're still underage."
"I have a fake ID."
"It doesn't matter!" Eric spoke over all of them.
"No it does matter," Olivia insisted, glaring at Eric. "You put a giant fucking target on our backs as if there weren't seven other targets there to begin with. They'll be coming at us with everything they've got. She cannot be here!"
His eyes studied her from behind the desk, cold fire burning in its blueness. Eric did not like his authority being questioned in front of other vampires, which is why Olivia reserved her yelling voice for when they were alone. But right now, she was out of fucks. Her heart was tight in her chest, reminiscing the many moments like this they had as if they were about to end. She couldn't help but wish that this old creaky executive chair would be the only chair Eric Northman belonged to. Simpler times.
"I can't beat Alcide at his own game. I may be King but I cannot beat the law. I need Alcide to play my game. I need him outside the lines, I need him to play dirty," the hair on the nape of her neck stood up. None of those words meant anything good. His eyes moved to Pam. "And about Jessica, it's your call."
Pamela was the new Sheriff in town, and the new owner of Eric's entire portfolio since he received the keys to the castle.
She cocked a brow. "How fucking kind of you to allow me to choose my own fuckin' staff after you took everyone with more than three brain cells with you."
"Tough," he smirked.
"Can I at least have James back?"
"No!" Olivia protested.
The vampiress shot her a weird look. "The fuck you sayin' no for? Do you know how hard it is to find somebody willing to watch over your ass?"
"He's a spy!" Olivia cried out. Her protest had nothing to do with her hatred for James, or their death-threat games. No, absolutely nothing to do with that at all.
"Everyone's a spy," Jessica said. Her baby blue gaze narrowed on Eric. "Can I sit on your lap?"
"No," his face was blank. "I'm taking Olivia home."
"I'll do it. You have a lot of paperwork to sign," Pamela pointed at a stack of folders on his desk. Actually, her desk.
He shook his head. "Just get one of your minions to fax it to the palace-"
"This is my minion," she waved her hand at Jessica. "Does she look like she knows how to work a fuckin' fax machine?"
There was a pause. "Okay, fine."
"Get up, doll, I got a nail appointment at 4," Pamela motioned to the door.
Olivia put more effort than she should have getting up from the couch. She followed the tall blonde vampire out of the empty strip club and into the parking lot, as a ghost. It was starting to get cold at night, but the end was near. It was all she could think about. She would take a hot shower, put on clean pyjamas, maybe turn on the heat, and sleep without an alarm set for tomorrow. She wondered if Eric would join her bed.
It only dawned on Olivia three blocks later, sitting in the passenger seat while Pam drove in complete silence, that her offer to drive her home was unusual. Her icy eyes were focused on the empty roads.
"What is it?" Olivia asked, ending the quiet.
"I thought you couldn't read vampire's minds."
"I can't, but you're being weird."
"Has Eric ever told you how he became Sheriff?"
Olivia's brain was borderline mush after all the events that had taken place in the last 48 hours, but she vaguely remembered his cryptic words at the lakeside. It had something to do with falling in love with the wrong person, something she had related to very well. But part of Olivia couldn't pass the opportunity of unveiling this mystery.
"Not really."
Pam shot her head in disappointment, then muttered something in their odd secret language.
"He fell in love with the wrong person," Olivia repeated his words.
"No shit!" Pamela's voice was cold. The way she held the steering wheel so tight made a knot in Olivia's stomach. "I've warned him a thousand times, but he just won't listen to me. That's the hardest part of all of this, is watching history repeat itself over and over again, and not being able to stop it-"
She had never seen Pamela be so… Emotional. "Warned him about what?"
"About Sylvie," the woman's name came out of lips with such relief that Olivia almost expected something to happen. A spell to break, the world to end, something. "And it's about fucking time that you know."
"Who's Sylvie?"
"Was," the vampire corrected. Oh. "Sylvie was the daughter of a French vintner in the 80's, studying film or something else just as fuckin' stupid."
"Okay?" Olivia asked annoyed. What did that have to do with anything?
"Eric fell in love with her," her stomach did a flip. "And she died because of it."
"How?"
Pamela remained quiet, as the car idled on a red light. Eric became Sheriff because some girl died? That didn't make any sense. What was starting to make sense, however, was where this warning was going.
"You can't share this random piece of Eric Northman lore and not elaborate! How did she die?"
"Eric was reckless and only thought with his dick. He was drawing too much attention to himself. The Authority warned him to fall back in line and stop seeing her. You couldn't visibly court famous or powerful people back then, but he thought he was untouchable, and that the rules didn't apply to him. The Authority came back to make good on their promise. But he's too old and too powerful to be disposed, so they made him choose: my life or hers."
The glass ceiling of everything she knew about Eric and Pamela shattered. "He chose you."
"It's different now. You aren't Sylvie, and I'm-" the word died in her mouth. Released.
Olivia felt the strange desire to console Pamela. She wanted to say Eric would always choose Pamela, but truth be told: she didn't know. Too much had happened. They have laid their lives for each other too many times not to count for something. They were bonded. Here's hoping no one would ever have to find out.
"Then they shipped him here, as a Sheriff, where he could be watched and controlled. Don't you think for a second the Authority won't punish him by using us," her voice wavered. "They own all of us. You included."
"I know," Olivia's mouth went dry again. She thought of Eric being forced to make this impossible choice, and her mind went to a dark place.
"It's why you gotta ask him," Pam added.
"Ask him what?"
"To turn you."
Her jaw almost hit her lap. "What?!"
"You'll be more resilient if you're his progeny-"
"I am fucking resilient!" Olivia shouted. She didn't know where the indignation had come from, but she did know Pamela had lost her fucking mind.
"Well you look like shit," she said as the car came to a rolling stop in front of her gates. They had arrived at her house. It felt like she hadn't been home in a thousand years.
"I do not want to be a vampire! And fuck you Pam, I just had a shit day!"
"Well, if you don't want to become a vampire then this is a really poorly planned romance, Olivia! You ain't gonna look perky and live forever!"
"Jesus Christ -" except that, if the legends were true, she would. "Good night Pamela."
AN: thank you for bearing with me on the time jumps! I hope it wasn't confusing.
I'm glad to report I wrote SO MUCH during the break, and I still have a full week of chilling at home hehe the next few updates will come monthly as usual. 2024 starting off RIGHT! Thank you, everyone, for the lovely comments and support. I hope everyone had lovely and safe holidays!
xoxo
