Chapter 10: Make Me Wanna Die

The look of Godric's defeat was making Olivia uncomfortable. She didn't fully understand why on earth he was trying to protect the Newlins so much. Why was he acting like vampires deserved to be killed? Sure they were monsters more often than not, but clearly, the vampire hadn't met the Mexican cartel - or any cartel, for that matter. Still, she couldn't fight off the feeling she had betrayed his wishes by giving Nan Flanagan the audio recording. Rule 13: always have legal standing blackmail material had saved her more than once, but this one time it just didn't sit quite right.

Isabel went home, Eric had gone to rest for the day in one of Godric's many guest bedrooms, Nan Flanagan left with her PR team to set up the AVL's statement. Olivia was ready to head back to the hotel and pass out. However, she was absolutely dying of thirst and also starving. Olivia figured she would at least fix herself a quick snack before hitting up a drive-through. She went through Godric's pantry in the kitchen and found everything but food in the cabinets. His kitchen was storage for books, a variety of decorative vases and candles, office supplies, some vinyl records and odds and ends. Judging by his age Godric didn't need much blood to survive at all, so keeping human companions was of no use. Thus, no food.

She managed to find a glass and filled it with cold tap water over the kitchen sink. She was more parched than she thought because she drank 3 full glasses before noticing Godric was standing in the garden out back, looking at the horizon. He was shirtless, his body was small-framed but in impeccable form. He also had more tattoos than she thought. Black symbols were etched on both his arms and down his spine. The sky was starting to change colors, from deep blue to pale yellow and bright orange. Olivia ran outside through the wide doors off the dining room.

"Godric!" She called out. What the hell was he doing?!

He looked at her, still with the same peaceful expression he always had. He said nothing. The two of them just stood quietly in the garden, Olivia felt the tall dewy grass wet the cuff of her jeans. Birds started chirping, awakening with the morning. She then realized what Godric was doing. He was getting his Light Celebration.

"Godric, come inside." She told him.

"Tell Eric, if love were enough I'd still be here-"

"Tell him yourself!" Olivia retorted, feeling angry all of a sudden. She couldn't believe what she was witnessing. "He will never believe me if I tell him you ended yourself at dawn. Or worse! He will believe me and kill me for letting you go."

Godric suddenly chuckled. "It would be a very Eric thing to do. Kill for love, that is."

Or for hatred. Or annoyance. Or a minor inconvenience. Or because it was a day that ended in Y. "Godric, come on, go rest inside."

He shook his head, still looking at the sky. "I can't shake off everything the Reverend made me listen to. All those stories, all those people. So much pain, and anguish and-"

"Money," Olivia stated. That made Godric shut up and finally look at her. "Steven and Sarah Newlin have increased their parsonage allowance to 3.8 million dollars last year, absolutely tax-free. They live in a luxurious ranch-style mansion on 40 acres of land, they wear expensive clothes and don't even bother to hide it. All their employees have signed NDAs that forbid them to discuss the Church finances with anyone, which leads me to believe they probably commit tax evasion or fraud, shall I go on?"

"What… Does it have to do with the atrocities my kind has done? Because we have done it all, Olivia. We even brag about it-"

"I'm not saying vampires are angels. I'm saying the Newlins make money selling and fostering hatred for you. They have high membership fees, plus thite, plus heavily encourage everyone to donate extra on top of it, I've seen their 990-T forms. To let people go down to the basement and tell you their stories, I would bet my life they had to pay to see you. Sure, Steven losing his dad and getting no justice for it was probably horrible. But financially, he's made a pretty sweet deal out of it."

Godric frowned, quietly thoughtful. The sky was getting brighter by the second. If it weren't the tall garden walls surrounding his house, and the tall bamboo trees sheltering the rising light, he would have been dust already. But he didn't have much time left, minutes maybe. "Will you come inside now?"

But the vampire did not move. He just faced the garden wall, looking at the sunshine rays washing down closer. It was like watching the countdown on a time bomb. She tried to take his arm gently but she heard the loud click of fangs descending as a warning. He did not want to be touched.

She didn't take the threat lightly either, as on the next second something within her snapped. "For fuck's sakes Godric, you aren't Jesus! Dying for your sins will do nothing!"

Something inside Godric seemed to have snapped too. In a blur, he turned around and faced her, standing so close their noses almost touched. It was the first time he had raised his voice this evening. "If you've seen what I've seen, you'd understand! This world is broken-"

"Then fix it!" She ordered him and Godric got eerily quiet, studying her every breath. God, she sounded just like father. "Condemn vampire on human cruelty, just like you do with other laws-"

"The Magister doesn't care about humans, he won't-"

"But you do!" She was now shouting. "You are the Sheriff of Area 9 and probably the oldest vampire in existence! Fuck the Magister and what he thinks! It's your Area, and if vampires don't like your rules, then they can leave."

Godric glanced one more time at his high garden wall, then back at her. Suddenly she felt the air move and he was gone. All she caught was a blur entering the house. Alone in the garden, she finally let out a breath she had been hiding the entire conversation. Holy shit vampires were stressful. A whole different kind of stressful. The sun finally came up, radiating its light all through the garden, kissing Olivia's face and neck. Birds were chirping, the darkness of the night was melting away like snow. It made her remember the last sunrise she watched. As she felt tears flood her eyes at the memory, she walked back inside. It was time to go home.

She caught Godric was making his way down to the sleeping quarters as she crossed the destroyed and mauled home on her way to the driveway. He was halfway down a set of glamorous stairs going into the basement, returning into the darkness he belonged to.

"Thank you, Olivia," he muttered, only turning halfway. "Sorry to have worried you. Promise not to tell Eric? I fear he wouldn't be so…"

"Understanding?" She asked. He nodded, eyes fixed on the floor. "I won't tell him if you promise to stay away from the Fellowship."

"You have my word." At this, his eyes met hers. Godric was truly a beautiful man. She knew Godric and Eric weren't blood-related, but he was so different from his progeny. He was so kind, and respectful and sweet. "Will I see you again?"

She wished for a moment to be his accountant instead. A fleeting wish, she knew she would someday crave the chaos. Still. "I hope so."

"Me too," and with a small smile Godric disappeared downstairs and the house fell into the quiet abyss of the dead.

Eric rose lazily from the bed, pushing off the black silk sheets. He sat up for a second getting a hold of where he was for a minute. It's not often he wakes up in a place other than his bed. He reached for his phone - a text from Olivia: Arrived safe in Shreveport. See you soon.

All of last night came rushing to the surface all at once. The party, the bomb, Olivia, Nan, the tape, all of it. Godric was safe, time to go back to reality. He wandered the home in the dark, which seemed completely empty - no party, no guests, no nest. All the living room furniture was gone, along with all the debris from the explosion. The walls had been wiped clean with bleach, making this room once again a clean slate. His day-staff was quick on the trigger.

He found his Maker sitting quietly in his dark office, perched over the desk scribbling away on a multitude of papers under the single light of an old banker's lamp. Godric's office was no larger than his own at Fangtasia, but much better decorated with mid-century modern furniture featuring rich teaks and walnuts, and a floor to ceiling window behind, facing a small rock garden. The TV was on, Nan Flanagan's constipated face was staring at him, her lips spewing her usual bullshit but luckily the TV was muted.

"No rest for the wicked," Eric leaned on the door frame, hands in the pockets, watching Godric furiously writing as if his thoughts would disappear forever if he didn't get them all out on paper.

His Maker did not look up when he spoke. "Lots of work to be done, childe."

A deep silence crept in, stretching time out like gravity. In fact, they just existed in the same room for what it felt like a whole year. Godric just kept writing page after page, completely indifferent at Eric's presence. It was as if the time they spent apart meant nothing at all. The last time the two had spent this much time in the same room was winter 1944 on an off-off-off book mission for the Authority in Germany, and even then the two barely said a word to each other unrelated to their task. They crossed paths at the odd Gala or elite party here and there, plus that one time Godric came to Shreveport for a quick hello on his way to Montgomery on a diplomatic mission on his King's behalf. But other than that, it had been 300 years since they had a fucking sincere conversation. One that ended with his release.

Eric felt bitter, borderline angry. What could possibly be so important he couldn't take one good look at Eric? Or would he need Olivia's presence to get Godric to speak too? The way he looked at her or even the fact he even talked to her made a small but deep part of him resent her. Had she any idea of who Godric really is? What he really was? He was one of the greatest men to have ever lived. He built empires because he was bored, and then destroyed them for fun. It made Eric question who exactly was sitting on that chair. Eric had made Olivia find Godric, but he wasn't so sure now of who she found in the Church's basement.

Eric walked right up to his desk. "So here's a quick question, what the fuck is going on with you?"

That got his attention, his pen stopped. Eric paced nervously around the room, Godric's eyes still haven't left the paper. Eric could feel the air thicken and his chest tighten, fearing what Godric would say next. His Maker's lack of reaction made his knuckles itch to break something. Do something. Say something.

But he didn't. All he gave was more silence, more nothing. He didn't seem indifferent at his presence, Godric looked annoyed. How the fuck dared he? "Look at me," Eric demanded.

He could tell his gaze went up begrudgingly. "I have work to do, Eric."

"Oh, I can only imagine it really piled up while you were away on your self-pity retreat."

"Eric, I am trying to make amends-"

"No!" He interrupted sharply. "No more excuses, or nods across the room or polite hellos in passing. I think I deserve a bit more than that from you."

Godric let out a heavy sigh. "Don't you think I've given you enough grief, my childe?"

"Grief? Is that what we are calling it these days?" Godric stared at him with cold eyes. "Wanna make amends? Start with me."

Eric sat on the sleek low couch across the room as the silence grew tenfold. No heartbeats, not a single breath. Even the single lampshade shining it's soft yellow light got dimmer. His deep brown eyes looked at him for longer than they had in the past three hundred years. The pain Eric buried away was starting to awaken.

"I am sorry, Eric," he finally muttered.

It was not enough. "For?"

Another pause. Another year passed. And when he spoke, Eric wished he hadn't. "For not loving you better. I am sorry for only nurturing the darker veins in you, and cutting off the softer ones. I am sorry for selfishly making you think I was all there was to be loved. I'm sorry for grooming you for power, for moulding you into ruthlessness and deceitfulness. I'm sorry for teaching you to find comfort in vengeance, blood and tears. I'm sorry if I made you think I was a role model to be followed. I'm sorry that I made you think being the child of death was something to be joyful of."

Eric only noticed there were tears in his eyes once they rolled off down his cheek. Centuries imagining how this conversation would go, countless times fearing this exact scenario. Godric felt shame and disappointment at who Eric had so proudly become. He felt like his whole existence was a joke, a failed attempt.

"Oh is that all?"

"I still stand by releasing you," those words pierced him like another stab wound. "If I've learned anything this weekend, it was that."

"I don't understand you, Godric!" Eric got up in an explosion of anger, ready to storm out and never come back. But his body was frozen, unwilling to let go of the past.

"You managed to find your way to the person you were always meant to become."

Clearly no thanks to him. The two stewed in the silence a while longer. Eric wiped away his tears, feeling his body and mind go numb. After his own Maker released him, Eric wandered the world lost. He had no idea of who he was, or what he was, or what he was for, if not to hunt, fuck and kill. It wasn't until he found Pamela, another soul who was as lost as him, that he found purpose again.

"Aren't you happy with who you are, my child? You are what hundreds of vampires aspire to be, a respected Sheriff, a wonderful Maker. Aren't you happy with the life you built for yourself?"

Eric scoffed, shaking his head. It's like he didn't know him at all. Eric walked away, parting ways with his Maker and shoving away the sadness he felt towards Godric back to the place it belonged. When he thought of his return to Shreveport, a certain annoying redhead came to mind.

He stopped by the door for a second, glancing over his shoulder at the stranger who had yet to see what Eric had become. "It's just a sandcastle, Godric."

Not an empire yet.

Olivia must have visited every small business in Shreveport, and much to her disappointment she got it all done in a week. There simply weren't that many left after the recession in a town of merely 200 thousand people. She was determined to scout new business to diversify Northman's portfolio because laundering everything through Fangtasia alone was a piss poor plan - especially considering how much drug money he and the Queen were making, and how much Fangtasia was not. So far she had her eye on a small strip mall with three commercial spaces, and the whole infrastructure was incredibly run down (which was a plus in her books). There were also some restaurants in the area that looked promising.

She hadn't stepped foot in Fangtasia since before the Dallas trip or had seen Eric since. But that didn't stop her wildly inappropriate dreams any. Olivia always had a higher sex drive, and these dreams were filling her up with a certain chaotic horny energy she had never experienced before. She hated the idea of dating again, but something had to be done to prevent the catastrophic situation of her actually fulfilling her dream's wishes. Goddamn vamp blood.

Olivia was wearing her Fendi jeans (her new favorite, courtesy of Eric Northman) and an ivory silk shirt along with her favourite pink pumps and matching pink lipstick and headed to Fangtasia on another hot Louisiana night. It was now late summer but the weather must have not gotten the memo because it was still hot as a dog's breath, even at night. This was life in Louisiana: just hoping from AC to AC and hope your makeup and hair last in between.

Fangtasia was already open, a small crowd was smoking outside, dressed as the cast of Lost Boys. In her opinion, there was just one thing creepier than vampires, and that was vampire groupies and vamp wannabes. One woman who intensely glared at her with visible distaste had bite marks all over her body, sending shivers down Olivia's spine. As she passed, she raised her mind's shield fearing for what she may hear from these strangers. She strutted right in, making her way straight to the stage where the Viking sat. Olivia wasn't sure if they changed the lighting, or maybe he had just fed, but Eric looked absolutely radiant. His dirty blond hair was pushed back. He wore black as usual, a heavy leather jacket with a deep neck tank underneath. She forgot to breathe all together once he smirked at her. He was taking all of Olivia in with his hungry eyes, undressing her shirt with his mind, button by button.

"Long time no see," he was sunk in his large chair, brilliant eyes piercing right through her.

He knew damn well she could not say the same. Eric visited her head every night, without fail. Ignoring this, nodded at the side hallway. "Shall we start?"

Eric nodded to Pam who was serving drinks at the bar and the three of them walked down the narrow hallway, Liv leading. She walked tall, chin up, shoulders open. It was good to get that last bit jolt of testosterone before client presentations.

Olivia sat on the guest chair in front of the desk. Pam sat on the couch near her, with her resting bitch face as usual. She wore a skin-tight latex dress with a mock neck, cap sleeves and an open chest, hair up in a high bun with two intricately carved chopsticks, along with blood-red tassel earrings and the highest pumps she had ever seen. Pam had a delicate and dainty face, along with an Amazon sculpted body but she had a demeanor of a dominatrix or an assassin or both. Intimidating did not fully cover it.

Eric sat behind his desk, leaned back in his chair as far as it could go. The two vampires measured her with their eyes, waiting. It was time to start. She opened her briefcase. "I've made an assessment of your Blackbook and found 3 different suitable businesses to add to your portfolio," she handed each of them a folder with purchase documents, photos and a quick summary of their accounts. They both eagerly snatched it off her hands.

Eagerness was a good sign. That was until Pam spoke. "A fucking strip mall?"

Olivia tried not to slump her shoulders. That was supposed to be the crown jewel of the presentation. "Sure it's not anything fancy, it needs renovations-"

"No shit, I've seen dumpsters that better than this."

"But that's a good thing! With the right contractor, we can start laundering money through the renovation right away. Every business in the strip mall is also cash-heavy- a hairdresser, a dog groomer and a convenience store. You can launder money through those too, in the long term."

"Is this it?" Eric asked quietly.

"Plus a couple of family restaurants. The combination of this folder is suitable for the size of your drug money income, with room to grow."

"But it's just all so…Unsexy," Eric pushed back.

"You don't have to be publicly associated with any of these businesses or even ever set foot in them," in fact it was probably better that he didn't.

"What about Fangtasia? Can't we do it all through the bar?"

"No, for many reasons."

"Let's hear it."

"Well for starters, this amount of fraud and illegal all concentrated in one business is risky enough, especially considering this place gets raided already. Secondly, Fangtasia is borderline profitable-"

"Excuse me?" Pam chimed in. "You've been here enough times, this place is full every night we're open. Fangtasia is the only bar that serves Tru Blood in a 20-mile radius-"

"Which you sell for 15 dollars a bottle and it still only makes up for 8% of your profit margins. Your vampire customers don't come here to drink synthetic blood, they come here to drink your… Other customers. Meaning 60% of the people downstairs don't spend a dime in this place."

"Isn't that the whole point of you? To make Fangtasia look profitable?"

"The whole point of me is to not get us arrested. Unless this place seriously increases its legal cash flow, I won't consider cooking up the books. Not with the feds watching, it's not worth the risk."

More silence. Tough crowd, she expected Northman to bend a bit easier than this after their romantic Dallas weekend. Hadn't she earned his trust by now?

"Let's say the feds aren't a problem, how do you suggest we increase legal cash flow?"

Olivia swallowed dry. A whole new business strategy for Fangtasia was not in her plan, at least not now. "Well, serving food-"

"Absolutely not," Eric retorted. "There's a reason vampires don't hang up at pubs, and that's because the stench of human food is nauseating."

"Well, you can charge cover at the door. Like you said, this is the only place vampires hang out in, they ought to look like they are here for the True blood, fulfilling the mainstreaming agenda and all. And the human clientele doesn't come for Pam's margaritas. They come to…" Fuck? Be eaten? "Mingle with vampires."

"Okay, what else?" Eric tossed the papers on his desk and his eyes narrowed on her.

What else? What did he mean, what else? The folder she so carefully prepared required a 900k investment, multiple purchase agreements, hiring contractors, lease restructuring… Olivia must have been quiet for too long because Eric spoke again, dissatisfied. "You said you'd give me an empire. Where is it, Olivia?"

The way he spoke her name, slow and deep, made the room feel suddenly hot. Olivia wondered what had changed for Eric to hop on board with her plan so quickly. It caught her a bit off guard, but she wasn't about to backtrack on her words. She promised Eric Northman an empire when they were in Dallas and now she had to deliver. Failure was not an option.

This wasn't the first time a client thought her plans were lame or plain. They were supposed to be unexciting. It was money laundering 101: lay low and don't attract attention to yourself. Also don't buy a chain of nail salons, or car washes, or laundromats. The IRS loves to audit those because they smell of tax evasion, and they are bloodthirsty hounds. They are just too obvious, thank Al Capone for that.

Okay, Eric Northman wanted a sexy plan, she was going to give him sexy. It wasn't going to make her PR efforts any easier later, but she had to work with what she got. If they didn't agree to this, she was dead on the water.

"A strip club," she finally caved. "Along with everything else that's on the folder, we turn Fangtasia into a strip club."

Eric and Pam immediately looked at each other, a small smile slowly grew on the vampires' faces.

"Well shit, Carson." Pamela leered at her in an unnerving way only she could. "You should have started with that."

A.N.: So Godric lives to see another chapter! But worry not, he will be back later - I've got plans for him.

And speaking of plans, the next plots will be off True Blood script for a while, I hope you're on board with that :)

until the next chapter angels xoxo