Chapter 4: Pretend We're Dead

It had been a full blissful week with no Olivia Carson. No drop-ins, no papers to sign, not even a phone call. Hopefully, another hot flavour of the week that had come and gone. Good, 'cause the human had some particularly distasteful traits, such as being fucking nosy and bringing out the worse in Eric. Pam hadn't seen such butchery in the basement since…. Well, ever. He got so much blood in his freshly highlighted hair, it almost ruined it. Pam had to cut it short. It suited him fine, but Pam was beyond pissed. You don't fuck with Eric's hair, nobody, not ever, is even remotely worthy of damaging his luscious and precious hair. He had an image to uphold for fuck's sakes.

Unfortunately, Pam knew better. It was only a matter of time until Olivia needed to stir the pot again. Pointing out their vulnerabilities, or whatever the fuck her job was. It was bad enough to have the Queen all up in their business, but sending a human to do it? Silver in the wound.

The bar was full as usual, still, Eric had yet to make his appearance on his throne tonight. Patrons were getting antsy, glaring at the empty stage, whispering and gossiping. Eric had been holed up in his office all week, it was high time for him to grace the public with his presence. Leaving Daniel, one of the bartenders in charge, Pam headed to the office and opened the door without knocking.

"Are you coming downstairs or what?"

Eric was leaning back in his office chair all the way, and only his eyes moved up from the phone in his hands.

"Godric's missing."

Pam lost all breath. She quietly closed the door behind her, muffling almost all the noise from downstairs. "How do you know?"

"Just got a call from the King of Texas," Eric's eyes did not meet Pam's. He was actively avoiding looking at her at all. She knew he was trying to hide his worry. "No one has seen or heard of him for quite a while, and he didn't show up for the last Curia Regis."

"He would summon you if he were in trouble-"

"No Pam, he wouldn't." He said annoyed, deepening his voice.

Pam frowned, worried Eric might do something stupid. He was still unequivocally loyal to his Maker, but the two had a long, complicated relationship. Eric didn't talk about him much, he was still hurt Godric had let him go 300 and some years ago. A pain Pam hopes she never has to feel. Godric and Eric had roamed the earth together for almost 800 years, and he had shaped Eric in ways not even she understood herself. But their relationship had a fatal flaw: Eric was a fierce protector, and he would do anything to protect his family. However, Godric would rather die a horrible death than even consider putting Eric's life at risk. Over time, this caused trite and resentment between the two. Godric refused to be taken care of, Eric hated feeling helpless.

With humans attacking vampires being almost an every-other-day occurrence, it was very possible Godric was somehow killed or captured. However, it was unlikely - he was almost 2000 years old, which meant if humans did indeed get him, they were either incredibly smart or heavily armed. Godric was the sheriff in Dallas, Texas so anyone with 2 brain cells could guess which one would be more likely.

A horrible thought popped into her head. "Do you think they captured him for…"

"His blood? Could be."

Pam shivered. The older the vampire the more powerful the high humans could get off their blood. The age restriction was the only caveat Eric imposed on the Queen's idiotic plan to allow the - very - illegal buy and sell of V under the Authority's table. No vampire over 100 years old in Area 5 was allowed to sell their blood. It was a secret rule, not even humans were allowed to know about it. But who knew how things worked in Texas?

"It was only a matter of time until humans developed the taste for mature vampire blood…" Pam sighed.

Hence why the Queen's plan was idiotic. Eric suddenly stood up with a look on his face that told her everything she needed to know - and Pam didn't like it. "Book an Anubis jet as soon as possible, two passengers. And a room at the Carmilla."

Pam felt a tinge of excitement. It wasn't often they left Shreveport, and the Carmilla had a delicious all you can eat menu. "Should I call Chow to take over the club for the weekend? He does owe you a favour-"

"No, Pamela, you're staying."

"Excuse me?!" Her voice almost cracked. She then realized who was going instead. But before she could protest, Eric was gone.

Olivia was already in pyjamas, and about halfway down a pint of Ben & Jerry's AmeriCone Dream while watching The Real Housewives of Orange County. Shitty reality TV was her guilty pleasure. Being a telepath, Olivia knew deep down most people were horrible, selfish, greedy, egocentric and insecure. But in reality TV, they didn't hide it. To her, it was the true depiction of how people were: mostly awful. But on TV, at least it was entertaining.

Earlier Olivia had a nice hour-long chat on the phone with her mother. This week, she missed her mom terribly and had to constantly remind herself that the two get along better when they are apart. Olivia's childhood was complicated. Her mom was a nurse, and her dad was a longshoreman by day, and illegal boxer by night. He was a telepath like Olivia and her absolute hero. The two had an unbreakable bond. He helped her navigate life with her special talent. He taught her how to silence people's thoughts, how not to panic in crowds, and mostly how not to judge people by what they think - although she could really use some more of those lessons. He was a tough man but had the biggest heart. Plus he was the coolest guy. He was a burly man, built like a brick house. Had tattoos all over his arms, and the thickest Newfoundland accent she's ever heard. None of her friends growing up could understand a word he yelled at the TV, or when he spoke on the phone with relatives up in Canada. Her dad eventually learned to dumb-down his accent for the New Jersey crowd. Her relationship with her dad was the most special thing Olivia's ever had. Other than a few cousins north, she had ever met anyone else like them. When she was little he told her only a few of them existed in the world, and he made up stories of how they were descendants of royal fairies, and their lineage was magical, and they had distant relatives in faraway lands, who lived in the most beautiful gardens. He always promised to take her there someday.

Her world fell apart twice in her life. The first time, Olivia's parents decided to get divorced when she was 4 or 5.

For years she thought it was because of her. Her mother wasn't a telepath like them. She couldn't answer Olivia's questions, offer her guidance or comfort her with the words and feelings Olivia needed. And to add salt to injury, Olivia could read her mother's pained thoughts. She had carried and grown her own little girl in her own belly, but yet she couldn't be what her child needed. She felt left out, like a stranger watching from the window. Plus, children aren't meant to listen in to every thought their parents have. Her Dad always kept his "mind wall" up, and only let her listen in when he meant for her to listen. And despite him telling her a thousand times to not peek into her mother's head, curiosity always took over. Sometimes, it was just by accident. But the damage was done. She watched their marriage implode in real-time. There was no shield from the emotional fallout. Children aren't meant to hear their parents every thought. Every fear, every worry, every daydream and dark secret. It made Olivia fear her mother's head, and distance herself more and more. After the divorce was concluded, Olivia lived with her dad and visited her mother semi-frequently.

The second time Olivia's world fell apart was when her dad died of a heart attack in the middle of his shift when Olivia was 16. Her whole world came crumbling down. She had to move with her mother permanently, and after some turbulent and angsty teen years, she left for college and never came home again. That was until her mother got diagnosed with MS.

Olivia felt scared to go home every holiday now. Every time Thanksgiving, Christmas or Easter rolled around, she had to go home and face the fact her mother was dying. Each time, she was a little bit worse. Olivia felt guilty for being so hard on her mom. For being away all those years. Maybe it was out of guilt, but Olivia tried to take care of her mom the only way she knew how. Every month a huge chunk of her money was sent to her mother and aunt. Olivia paid for all the best doctors, all the best treatments, therapies and medications, along with money for groceries and utilities. It cost her probably close to 11 grand a month, give or take. But she had to try to save her. She had to. There was nothing she could do for her dad, she could at least try this.

When she heard a knock on the door, it nearly sent her soul out of her body. It almost made her drop her spoon and ice cream all over the couch too. She glanced at her phone: almost 10 PM. She lowered the volume of the TV, just in case it was too loud and bothering one of her neighbours. Olivia made her way to the door and opened it.

Her mind always went blank for a second every time she laid eyes on Eric Northman. This time he looked different - he'd cut inches of his hair, it was now a short-ish blond flow, loosely combed back, which now allowed Olivia to see his full face. He was stunning. Perfect cheekbones, strong jaw and nose, delicate piercing blue eye. He also wore a dark two-piece Adidas velour tracksuit, which was a different look for him. He looked somehow even hotter than usual, but Olivia did not forget who this monster really was. His most memorable look was a blood-covered one, and it was seared in her brain forever.

"We have a problem." He announced, clearly distracted by her satin pyjamas. Clearly, they were both encountering a different version of each other tonight.

Those words, however, set off all sorts of alarms in her head. Are the feds on them? Were they charged with anything? Are the accounts frozen? Is there money missing? Had she missed something? How could she have missed something?

Olivia tried not to panic. "What is it?"

"A friend of mine has gone missing in Dallas. I am afraid he was taken, and I would like your help in investigating his disappearance."

"I'm… Just an accountant from New Jersey. I follow money, not people-"

"Stop." He closed his eyes briefly, trying not to lose his temper. That was a first. "We both know you're not just an accountant or from New Jersey. But I am willing to let you keep your little secret, as long as you use it to help me."

Olivia didn't know what to make of the request. She didn't know the first thing about looking for people, let alone vampires. Had he figured out she could read minds and was playing it cool? He did know she was a flight risk. But how? Eric was ancient, maybe he had met others like her in the past? The thought of being discovered terrified her, but his proposition seemed about as attractive as he was. He would stop fighting her at every corner and just let her use her skills to do her job, without question. It's all she wanted from him, really. She looked at his 6'4'' frame, and he always held an intense look in his blue eyes, like he could see right through her very soul, like he wanted her, somehow. Okay, maybe just his trust wasn't all that she wanted from him, but it was all she would allow herself to have.

"Okay. I can try."

"I'll be waiting in the car out front. You have 10 minutes to pack, and pack light. Our jet leaves in an hour." And he walked away, towards the elevator.

Olivia headed straight to the living room and (sadly) put her ice cream back in the freezer. She tied the trash bag under the kitchen sink and tossed it by the door. Who knew how long she would be in Dallas? The last time she had to take an impromptu work trip, she was gone for 3 months. Olivia quickly changed out of her pyjamas and started packing. She wasn't sure what to take. What does one wear while looking for a missing vampire? Was his friend even a vampire? Eric Northman had friends? She had so many questions, but only time would tell. Everything about this was out of her expertise, but if it gave her a shot at making Eric trust her and stop going on murderous rampages, she had to take it. She would sleep better at night without the blood on her hands...And clothes. And hair.

She packed some of her favourite outfits, a cocktail dress, her favourite ankle boots and some heels. She put on her favourite rich emerald green sweater dress, black thigh-high boots and threw her hair in a messy pony. Toiletries, hairbrush, wallet, keys, phone, phone charger, laptop. And last but definitely not least, she put on her Tiffany bone cuffs. Rule number 8: hide your valuables in plain sight. This would do, in case this rescue mission went tits up.

There were a few of Fangtasia's and Eric's documents on the dining room table that she hadn't scanned yet (everything else had been shredded and burnt in the kitchen sink). She stapled the papers together and taped them on the inside of the fuse box door. Her favourite hiding place. Rule 8 was her most clever one.

On her way out, she tossed the garbage bag in the trash shoot and headed downstairs. Eric was waiting for her in a red corvette of some kind (Olivia knew nothing about cars). It was arrogant and flashy, just like him. She put her bag in the indeed, very small trunk (no wonder he asked her to pack light), and entered the car. Eric drove fast, and she definitely felt some Gs on his curves, making her stomach sink. Before she knew it they were on the highway, away from the city, driving deep into the dark country roads. The two sat in absolute silence - not even music. All she hoped was that she wouldn't regret agreeing to this. And that he didn't crash the car on their way to the airport. Out of nervousness, Olivia watching him drive. Maybe it was the car, maybe it was the new haircut, but watching him let the steering wheel turn under his fingers during curves, or push and pull the gear stick, or feel the engine hum at his desire… There was definitely something very hot about it. Or maybe she was learning she was into murderous psychopaths because Olivia clearly had a deathwish - that she knew about herself for a long time. She inherited it from her dad.

Mostly she hoped gaining his trust wasn't going to bite her in the ass. Because with trust, it was usually a two-way street. And it came along something else that scared her. Something she fought against her entire life, created rules to ensure it would never happen, and she convinced herself she simply couldn't afford to show.

"I am, by the way."

"You're what?"

"From New Jersey."

And that was vulnerability.

When they arrived in the small private airport an Anubis jet was already waiting for them in the hangar. The attendant who signed them in was a sweet old lady, who thought Eric and Olivia were a couple, as she called them Mr. and Mrs. Northman. She did not correct her, since Olivia preferred to always fly under an alias anyway. But surprisingly, Eric didn't correct her either. The small jet they boarded was elegant and sleek, not much different from how she usually flew. Eric sprawled on the cream leather couch taking all 3 seats while browsing God-knows-what on his phone. She sat on one of the oversized armchairs facing him, wishing she was back on her couch with her AmeriCone dream. Olivia wasn't particularly fond of flying. Rule number 5: Know where the exits are. Well, there are none when you are flying, unless you'd like to die.

"You're gonna have to calm down," Eric said lazily, finally breaking the silence halfway through the flight without taking his eyes away from his phone.

Olivia was caught by surprise. "But I didn't say anything."

"Your heartbeat makes this plane sound like a very monotone EDM rave. You're basically vibrating."

"Put on headphones then."

"Why are you so nervous?" He looked up. Where would she even begin? "Do I make you nervous?" He raised his eyebrows.

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?! "Not really."

"Is it flying?"

"Yes."

"The mini bar is stocked, have at it."

"I don't drink while I'm working." Truth was, Olivia got drunk and hungover very easily. Sometimes she even got hungover from a bag of chips. She certainly didn't have her 21-year-old liver anymore. God knows how quickly she would get wasted while flying.

"You're billing me for this?"

"No Eric, I'm going to help you find your friend on a weekend out of the goodness of my heart." She answered sarcastically. "Of course I am billing you for this."

"Then since I am paying you right now, I am ordering you either chill the fuck out, or I am going to shove alcohol down your throat like I'm making foie gras."

Eric Northman was an entitled fucking asshole, and Olivia's bar for that was already pretty high considering some of her previous clients.

"Fine." Olivia spat through her teeth.

Slapping the arms of her chair, Olivia got up and stomped down the short hallway to the jet's bar. The mini-fridge had a fine selection of top-shelf liquors in shooter sizes, and she recognized a very expensive bottle of Japanese Whiskey. She gave it as a gift to a client once, and the full bottle was 18 thousand dollars. The mini would end up costing Eric at least a couple of grand. And to enjoy her fancy cocktail, she would go all out: ice and a nice crystal glass, if she could find one.

"So, tell me about your friend," she asked him, trying to distract him from the bottle she chose. "The one we are looking for."

She started opening cupboards - a jet this nice had to have ice and glassware somewhere.

"His name is Godric," he spoke in a serious tone. "He's the sheriff of Area 9, and he missed the last court meeting with the King of Texas."

Hm, that was a bad sign. Sheriffs and Kings met near the end of every quarter for tax collection purposes, and a general meeting. Curia Regis, she believed it was called. Not showing up was a serious offence. Olivia kept looking for the damn glass.

"Does he have any enemies?"

"About… 40 or so vampires, 3 werewolves, at least 2 different covens of witches, and 1.2 million humans. Or however many live in Dallas."

Olivia glanced at Eric with a disapproving look. He was watching her curiously, eyes focused on her hips. She turned back around, trying to focus on what she was looking for: glass, and ice. Manuals, peanuts, wine, the pilot's coat, her own luggage, Eric's luggage, the pilot's coat... First aid kit…

You know what, fuck it.

She opened the little bottle and downed it halfway when she overheard some concerning thoughts echo in the cabin. Push throttle on engine 2 to idle, check, deactivate autopilot. Now to turn off gyroscopes, where's the cable? Ah, here it is. Good God, what am I doing?

She felt the floor gently incline. She looked at the liquor on the bottle and laid diagonal. What the hell was going on? Olivia leaned against the cockpit door and heard the faint alarm beeps coming from the control panel, but they were quickly silenced with a switch. Now, she didn't know anything about airplanes, but the intensity and fear she picked up from the pilot's thoughts were extremely suspicious.

"Eric?" She whispered turning around. "There's something wrong with the pilot."

Eric looked up from his phone, and suddenly he was standing right next to her.

Cut off the fuel supply to engine 2. Now… Pull the yolk back, all the way to the left-

"What? I don't hear anything."

The SEATBELT sign came on. They were still 20 minutes away from Dallas, it was too early-

"Eric get in there NOW!"

Eric shot her a look of apprehension but knocked firmly on the door. There was no answer.

Shit - shit. They know! They know! Goddam- FUCK! Okay. It's done. It's done. Too late to go back now. The cables are cut - I don't care if she's human, it doesn't change anything. The little fangbanger bitch made her bed when she decided to fuck him. Cunt is gonna get what's coming for her. They all will-

"...What?" Olivia muttered. "Sir!" She started banging on the door. "Open the door!"

"Wanna tell me what the hell is going on?" Eric demanded.

"He's trying to crash the plane!" Olivia continued to bang on the door so loud she didn't even hear Eric's fangs angrily descend.

He gently pushed her away and stuck his hand on the latch. With a simple tug, the whole door came off its hinges. Inside the cockpit, the pilot was halfway strapping a backpack on - a parachute. Behind him, the control panel was blinking like a Christmas tree. The man was pale and sweating like a sinner in church.

Faster than a blur, Eric grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and narrowed his gaze into the pilot's eyes. His fangs were inches to the man's face.

"What are you doing my little friend?" Eric asked the pilot, who was melting like butter under Eric's spell.

"Crashing the plane into the Carmilla hotel."

Olivia felt chills down her spine. Eric proceeded. "Why?"

"Because the world has gone to shit since vampires took over."

"Who do you work for?"

"The Lord of Light, and he will burn you all-" But before the man spoke another word, Eric sunk his teeth into his neck, red blood splashed all over the walls and control panel.

Olivia let out a small scream. Eric twisted his neck and let his lifeless body drop on the floor. A huge gape on the man's neck was spewing blood all over the floor. She looked at Eric Northman in absolute disbelief.

"What have you done?!"

Ignoring her, he wiped the blood off his chin and paced around the small cockpit, ducking his head under the low ceiling.

"Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" She snapped. "Unless you have some hidden skills I don't know about, you just killed the only person here who can land a plane!"

"He wasn't going to land us, he was going to crash us." Eric pointed at the screen on the left of the pilot's seat. Olivia stepped into the cockpit, avoiding the dead body on the floor. The monitor showed a clear path across Dallas, red alerts flashing on the screen, warning of the imminent collision.

"He was going to crash us into the Carmilla."

"What-"

Cunt is gonna get what's coming for her. They all will-

Eric sat in the pilot's seat and pulled on the controls.

"It's not going to work, he cut the control cables."

"How do you know-"

"Okay, I thought we were past that?!"

Eric got up and left the cockpit, towing Olivia out with him by the wrist. "Get your stuff, we are ditching this party."

"What? How-"

She watched Eric unlock the cabin's door, letting out all the pressure inside the jet with a loud bang. Rule number 5: Know where the exits are.

Fuck.

A.N.

Hello! Again, thank you for all the love Wicked Games has gotten so far. I'm blown away, really. To answer some questions: yes, I will explain how and why Olivia got involved with vampires, AND how she turned from good accountant to bad accountant.

And also, I'm not following all the original True Blood plots, just some of my favorites (but I'm turning the heat on them) plus some of my own.

xoxo