Chapter 74: Blood One
Olivia woke up in bed alone, feeling dehydrated from the inside out. Her hands danced across the sheets, seeking the comfort of his cold skin, but they only grasped more fabric. He didn't come. She stared at the ceiling, looking at high morning daylight rays leaking through the cracks of her heavy curtains drawing abstract lines. The heaviness of reality slowly compressed her chest as her brain woke up. Surprisingly, the memories of being arrested, detained and interrogated, or the thought of facing prison weren't the first that sprung to mind. It was watching Alcide lunge at Eric after he whispered something in his ear. It was the evil (yet sexy) grin on his face, it was the gunshot sound of Alcide's anger. It was the fear of every cop blowing up in the station like a bomb. It was watching two titans clashing, two Kings in their own right, declaring war right in front of her eyes.
Thinking she might be crushed by the air on top of her, she rolled out of bed. Olivia took the empty glass on her bedside table with her to the bathroom. The counter was covered with clutter spilling from her makeup bag, and dirty makeup wipes from the night before. It was a triumph that she managed to even do that before crashing. She turned the shower on and drank cup and after a cup of water, refilled it directly from the bathroom faucet while the shower water warmed up. Despite her stomach filling up with liquid, she was still so unbelievably thirsty.
Olivia showered and shaved, soaking in the steam. She questioned her own sanity, wondering if the past few days had been anything but a fever dream. A terrible hallucination that she was just now waking up from. The rabbit hole Olivia found herself going down seemed to be bottomless. Murders, crownings, arrests, threats, promises and betrayals. Most of all, it was Eric's words that echoed in her mind. I can't beat Alcide at his own game. I need Alcide to play my game. I need him outside the lines, I need him to play dirty.
It was hard to imagine an enemy Eric couldn't beat at their own game. And the fear that they had met their match was a real, dark, and terrifying one. All caused by spilled blood, all solved by spilling more blood. She wished it didn't have to be like this. She didn't know how much more innocent blood she could carry in her hands.
Once out of the shower, she moisturized her skin and tidied up the mess in the bathroom. When she stepped into her messy closet, she faced a lineup of business casual clothes and dresses she wore to work. An unusual knot formed in her stomach. She had so much on her plate that she didn't even know what errand she should be dressing for. Who would she talk to first? Portia, in order to check on the progress and safety of the Casino and see if the cops had seized any of the portfolio assets or accounts? Would it be Mr. Cataliades? Would it be finding another lawyer? Would it be doing the deposits from Fangtasia she had neglected all weekend? Would it be reaching out to some of her old classmates to learn about opening a bank? Or would she just clean and scrub every inch of his house, something she hadn't done in a while? Or to put on a gym set and dance, something she hadn't done in ages? She certainly could feel her muscles getting weaker, but it all seemed too much for right now. So, she put on an old Princeton t-shirt, biker shorts and some comfy socks. She would change again later once she got her bearings.
Leaving her bedroom, she was relieved to see the rest of the house was neater than she remembered. As much as she wanted to run away from her work problems, she couldn't really waste time cleaning right now. Once she stepped into the kitchen the weight sitting on her chest jumped off her body, as the jolt of surprise electrified her skin.
The kitchen door into her backyard was wide open, and Eric was sitting in the patio chair Bobby Burnham usually did. Wearing only his usual jeans, and low-cut black tank top, his legs were stretched out, his large bare feet crossed. His elbows rested widely on the armrests, and his head was laid lazily against the back. His hair looked beautiful in the sunlight, catching every ray of gold as Eric seemed to enjoy feeling the lukewarm October sun on his skin. His eyes were closed, but the corner of his lips curled when he heard her come to a stop at the doorway. They both seemed to take a pause to enjoy the absurdity of the scene, the situation, and all the fantastic and horrible things that had happened for them to be right here, right now.
"Your neighbour has been yapping on the phone for the past hour," he said simply, his eyes still closed. "She's quite racist."
Olivia crossed her arms, imagining Eric laying here trying to hear the birds and enjoy the morning sun, but instead eavesdropping on the gossipy rants of Maxime Fortenberry, her elderly neighbour.
"Yeah, I know," she couldn't help but smile.
His arms were beautifully sculpted even more in the sunlight, something his leather jacket often hid. Eric opened his blue eyes and his head tilted in her direction. He was so beautiful. "How are you feeling?"
That question again.
"Better," she glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was almost noon. She hadn't slept in like this in years. She also noticed the kitchen was clean, and there were no dishes on the drying rack. Olivia very seldom put dishes away, she usually just reused the dishes straight off the drying rack, washed them and put them back. "Did you… Clean my house?"
"You are a very messy person. I hope I didn't wake you."
"You didn't," she shook her head. "And thank you. I guess."
"It's the least I could do," Eric sat up straight, moving away from his relaxed state. His eyes narrowed on her. "Are you certain you feel okay?"
"I feel fine. Why?"
There was a very long pause. "I keep failing you."
Her heart tightened. "Eric, you haven't-"
"He took you, Olivia. You walked out of a lion's den and straight into another trap, all because of me. I told you I'd never let anything bad happen to you, I swore-"
"Stop," she spoke up, feeling her heart choke. "Can we just… Not? Just for an hour, can we just… Do this? Be normal?"
Olivia knew there was usually a price to pay for times like this. Peaceful happiness only came before a hammer was dropped. But yet, she was willing to pay for a moment of fantasy. He nodded, getting up. They both entered her kitchen, and Olivia heated up some pop-tarts in the toaster and poured herself a glass of orange juice (Eric had stocked her fridge again). She joined Eric at the kitchen table while he did the crossword puzzle from the newspaper. It was quiet, safe, and lovely. In her head, she imagined they were going to work later, then maybe go for dinner. It was perfect. Olivia never wanted a normal life until that very moment.
She played with the crumbs on her plate, her glass still half full, and Eric only had a few words left. He finished most of it so fast, that she doubted he was stumped on "Opera Solo - Four Letters". They were both stalling, stretching this precious moment for as long as they possibly could.
How much power do they need to have to be able to live like this? How much further would she have to push, how many more enemies would they have to take down? How much more blood needed to be spilled, how many innocents would have to die, and who else would have to get hurt? She thought of Eric's words again. I can't beat Alcide at his own game.
She tried to imagine a game that Eric could win. It terrified her to know the answer.
"Four down, it's Aria," she whispered.
He put the thin pages down on the table. "I know."
There was a moment of silence, as they watched their sweet morning come to an end.
"You can't keep me safe Eric, and it has nothing to do with you."
His eyes pierced right through her, and she swore they were never so blue. His face was immovable, in a way only he could do. "I can't accept that. I am King, if I can't keep one person safe-"
"I never expected that from you, not when we live a life such as this. All I ever asked for was for your trust," she reached and held his hand. It took both of them to wrap his one. "The troubles I keep running into are of my own making. I'm the only one who can save myself."
She could see emotions flash in the micro-movements of his face. Anger, fear. The daylight made them so much more apparent. "You're not okay."
"I said I'm perfectly-"
"Your powers," the black in his eyes was but a pin drop. "You are losing them, Olivia."
Her eyebrows creased. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Being with me is breaking you," his voice lowered as if it were painful to say the words. "It's making you weaker. I don't know how it works-"
"You're right, you don't," she stood up and walked to the sink. "And I'm not weak."
"That is not what I meant-"
"Then did you mean?" She angrily washed her dishes.
Eric sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Mr. Cataliades can read minds like you. He told me you couldn't hear him last night. When a fae feels trapped, she starts to lose her powers-"
"I was literally handcuffed to a table and denied water for 12 hours, Eric. I had a headache, it doesn't make me weak it makes me human!" She was furious.
"Then tell me it was only yesterday."
"What was?"
"That your powers failed, Olivia. Because something tells me that it wasn't. Think."
Her jaw tightened, thinking of all the times her powers misbehaved. She couldn't hear Mr. Cataliades, Glenn Costa or Moreland. The pilots of their jet were patchy too, but she could blame being tired for those. The Mayor, Joshua Peterson, was also not clear. She couldn't blame anything on that. But then there were other times when her powers did the opposite. With Jamie or the cult trying to kill them at the abandoned pool, Olivia could reach deep into their conscience and pull out secrets instead of just listening to their stream of thoughts. Not even her father could do that.
Olivia shook her head. "Being with you didn't make my powers weaker, Eric. If anything, they are much stronger. Last night I could hear Alcide's anger from twenty feet away just fine. Which begs the question: what the hell did you say to him?"
He straightened his spine. "That is between him and I."
"Eric," she punched the counter. No, they've gone too far for each other to start drawing boundaries now. "What did you tell Alcide last night that set him off?"
"I told him that we would get away with whatever he charged you with because we get away with anything."
Well, that wasn't exactly the truth. They both sacrificed a lot. "And?"
His gaze landed on her again. "I told him I was the one who killed Debbie Pelt."
There was not enough air in the room for her to breathe, no matter how far down her jaw dropped. The hammer - it always falls. "You did what?!"
"I got away with it, and there was never a thing he could ever do about it. I wanted to remind him I hold all the power."
"So you confessed to murder?!" Olivia yelled, grabbing onto the sink so she wouldn't jump on his throat. "To a fucking police detective in the middle of the lobby of a fucking police station?!" She hissed, bringing her voice down, but her anger was tenfold. "Have you fucking lost your mind?!"
"It worked. He lost his temper. This whole thing has to look like a personal vendetta, that's how I win, by discrediting him."
"I swear to fucking God, Eric-"
He stood up sharply, the chair scraping on the floor as he moved. Eric closed the distance between them, towering over her as he had done a thousand times before. His expression was serene as if he knew everything would be okay. Everything was so far from okay, that you couldn't even see okay on the horizon. Olivia had never been so angry in her entire fucking life.
Her mind replayed the scene in her mind. She had stepped out of the police station with Pamela. Halfway down the stairs, she turned around expecting Eric to be right behind her. But he was still inside, under the bright fluorescent lighting that gave his skin a strange almost green tint. Alcide was standing right next to his shoulder, their chests touching. Eric suddenly grinned, and then Alcide lunged at him like an animal attacking a mortal enemy. Eric moved at vampire speed out of his grasp, and suddenly three other police officers were in between them, pulling Alcide off him. Had he not realized the ramifications of those words? The actual fucking consequences of what he had done?
"Do you realize what you've done?"
"Yes. I started a war."
She scoffed at his brutal honesty. "You say it that easy. As if it were a completely mundane tactic to deploy as if people weren't going to die-"
"They are fucking wolves, Olivia. Drug dealing thugs, corrupt animals-"
"And what are we, Eric?!" She confronted him with her whole body. "What are we? We kept moving the goalpost so fucking far, I honestly don't see the fucking difference."
"You can't be serious," his voice loaded with dread. "After all I've done to protect you."
She shook her head. God, Eric sounded just like Alcide.
"Sometimes I wonder if the only person I need protection from is you."
The muscle in his jaw tightened. Eric turned around and walked out into her backyard. From the kitchen window, she saw him jump like a giant cat into the large trees at the very end of her backyard, ruffling the leaves for a moment before he disappeared entirely.
Fuck.
The sun was coming down fast, but it had shone all afternoon on the west outer wall of Fangtasia where the back of the club was situated. The metal back door was still hot from the hours of Louisiana sunlight, and still finicky as hell to get it open. The current theory was that the heat made the door swell in its own frame, making it nearly impossible to get it open.
"This is a goddamn fire hazard," she mumbled under her breath, wrangling the keys in the lock.
Olivia heard whispers in the wind, but not with her ears. She scanned the Fangtasia parking lot on high alert, expecting to see wolves, cops, or a secret other thing that hated her - after all, why fucking not? Her car was the only one near the door, Samuel, her bodyguard for the day, had parked on the street. He had let her know he was getting takeout at Denny's across the street, but that he would be watching from the window. She tried to focus with her brain, now paranoid that Eric was right and there was something wrong with her. A quiet tiny voice whimpered from the tree line.
"Hello?" She called out to the shadows.
Goddamn shit! The tiny voice cursed.
"No way," Olivia walked away from the door, towards the tree line where she saw the glint of something moving. "Ginger?"
Ginger's screeching voice had a unique and unmistakable pitch. Olivia glanced at the diner across the street, seeing Samuel waiting for his food on the counter while talking to a pretty waitress. She would only have moments to figure out what Ginger was doing here before Samuel did God knows what. Olivia didn't know what the policy was for ex-employees hanging around the premises and she didn't want to find out now. As she got closer to the bushes, she could clearly see two very skinny legs crouched near the dirt in tiny shorts.
"Ginger, what the hell are you doing?"
The tiny woman sprung from the bushes. She was wearing short shorts and a pink hoodie, which made for a poor camouflage. Ginger also looked 5 years younger with a few healthier pounds on. She was still bleach blonde and wore the same heavy eye makeup, and her age was still impossible to tell. She could be 22 or 42.
"I was hopin' it wouldn't be you, but it's all the same I guess."
"What is it? What are you doing hiding in the freaking bush?"
"I did somethin' real bad a while ago, but I didn't think they believed me," she said with genuine intent.
Olivia glanced at the diner again. "What did you do?"
"I talked to a cop," she squinted, expecting to get immediately yelled at. "A handsome one."
"About?"
"Mostly the guests we have… In the basement," she flinched, this time from the dirty look on Olivia's face. "Nothing ever came to it, until heard gossip in the nail salon from a girl who's datin' a clerk at the courthouse that they got a wire warranty for the Vampire Strip club."
"You mean a wire warrant?" Her jaw almost hit the pavement. "They wiretapped the place?"
Ginger nodded.
HOLY FUCKING FUCK
Olivia palmed her own face in distress. They were fucked. They were all fucked. What calls had Pamela been making? What if they hid microphones? Jessica literally conspired to murder a state witness in Eric's office, and God knows what else they talked about after Olivia and Pamela left.
A dark thought crossed her mind. She wished it was fleeting, but it stayed a moment too long. Eric would be twice as furious as he had been this morning if she even suggested such a thing. But it all paled in comparison to the amount of bullshit she was trying to juggle. The charges against her, the wiretaps, Alcide's Vengeance. She was fucking drowning-
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I was hopin' it would be another one of the girls, to be honest. But it was you who showed up," she shrugged.
Ginger was an idiot. "Why are you confessing at all? If either Pamela or Eric finds out what you've done-"
"I know," Ginger said, eerily calm. "I wasn't thinkin' straight. I am now."
Olivia took a good look at Ginger. This woman made a mistake and was trying to fix it, knowing she might possibly die for it. Olivia couldn't judge her for that. No, if anything Ginger was brave. The fleeting thought was no longer fleeting.
"Thank you. I'll make sure you are protected," Olivia said. She had no idea how she could even look at Ginger straight in the eye as the words came out of her mouth. Olivia couldn't protect anybody anymore. In fact, she questioned if she ever could. "Now go home."
Ginger nodded. "Kick the left corner of the door if it's sticky."
Olivia thanked her then hurried to go around the alleyway as she saw Samuel exit the dinner. She returned to the back door and kicked the left corner as per Ginger's instructions and was miraculously able to pull the heavy metal door open.
It was quiet and dark inside, only the light behind the main bar was on like usual. The place was empty, with no one around to disturb her. Olivia had come to collect the pile of documents Eric had signed last night and prepare them for Portia, on top of catching up with her regular paperwork, ledger, deposits and duties. But all those tasks would have to wait now.
Olivia leaned against the door, trying to breathe air that simply was not there. She found herself longing to be anywhere else but here. It was too deep here. Too dark, too dangerous, too close to the precipice. She was facing jail time, werewolves were after them; she had a Casino to open to launder money from crimes they committed, on top of creating a bank to settle debts to the Crown she failed to save. Now she had to turn this place upside down, searching for tiny microphones, a weapon that would blow their entire life up. She dove head-first into this life, thinking she would never meet the ground. Now that she could see what she was about to hit with full force, she was scared. The cuffs weren't on her wrist, but she felt equally as powerless.
It didn't matter, did it? It didn't matter how much she tried, how much money or power they had, she would never find a place where people couldn't hurt them. She leaned against the inside of the metal door and closed her eyes, feeling tears roll down her face. Her world was undoubtedly crashing around her, burying her deep in a grave of her own making. Eric and Alcide were going to start a war. People were going to die. She would die drowned in the blood of innocents. At least her soul (whatever was left of it) would.
Olivia was not a faithful person. But at that moment, Olivia prayed for some hope. Hope was all she needed to hold her together at that moment. Hope that if money and power weren't enough, then maybe love would be.
AN:
That was a tough chapter, I'm sorry :(
But hey! The good news is that I wrote a lot during the holidays! And if you haven't checked Harder The Fall yet, it's the other True Blood fanfic I'm working on. It hurts less than this once, I promise!
