Chapter 18: Cry Baby

Olivia stood by the Corvette as she watched Eric cross the dark back parking lot with the strut of a male model going down a catwalk. He looked at her and only her, with the intensity only Eric Northman could have when looking at you. Seeing him tackle Pamela just a minute ago was both amazing and terrifying and probably bought Olivia a world of hurt. She didn't know what it was about Pam that made her lose her cool so easily. Even though Olivia wasn't one to get attached to physical belongings (rule 9 and all), maybe the Grand Closet Heist had left some deeper wounds than she had realized.

As the Viking drew closer, she braced herself lifting her head high. She was no stranger to his anger, either as the witness or as the target. He stopped three feet away from her, which was odd. He usually closed the space between them, pushing her around with his statuesque body. Eric reached into his back pocket and took out something shiny and dark, then tossed it with a smooth underhand throw. Olivia awkwardly caught the fob with both hands before they hit her right in the middle of her chest.

"For saving Pam," he said quietly.

Olivia looked down at the object on her palm, staring at the little Corvette logo on the key fob. These were the keys to his car.

"Wait!" She called out, but it was too late. Eric had shot high up into the night sky, leaving her alone in the empty parking lot. Well, almost empty. It was just her and the blood-red Corvette.

She stared at it - impeccable condition, not even a speck of dust on the vehicle. The irony was palpable: Olivia had to get rid of her 50 thousand dollar BMW because it was too fancy for the neighborhood, just to be gifted a 70 thousand dollar car that you could hear coming from two blocks away and looked like it could belong on a Fast and Furious movie. And to add insult to injury - the car was a standard which she did not know how to drive.

God fucking dammit, Eric.

Eric Northman knew Hot Rain would be waiting for him inside his late progeny's house in Bossier before he even got there. So when he strolled in Long Shadow's suburban home across the river, Eric was not startled to see him sitting on the couch, patiently biding his time. Eric had been in this house countless times before he knew his business partner was a lying, traitorous stealing dickbag; so he knew the layout very well.

"Shall we settle this like men?" Hot Rain asked, finally standing up from the worn-out couch. Long Shadow did not take care of his house like he took care of the bar, that was evident. It was dusty and littered, and the house smelled like old trash and crusted blood, but the thing that disgusted him the most was standing in the room with him.

Eric slowly stepped around the living room, unafraid of his enemy's presence, despite knowing Hot Rain was there ready to kill him. "I'm afraid that train left the second you came for Pam."

"It's only fair, don't you think? You killed my progeny-"

"Now, now…" He leered. "Why would you think that? Wasn't Long Shadow my longtime business partner? My trusted and honorable fellow vampire? What would drive me to do such a thing to a so-called friend?"

Hot Rain's face hardened, but the clicking sound of his fangs descending came through his pursed lips. He knew exactly what his progeny's wrongdoing was. He possibly even ordered him to do it. The why didn't matter - Hot Rain was just another loose end that was about to get snipped short. If he had one rule to live by, is that no one came for his Pamela and lived to tell the tale.

"You stooping so low as to kill one of our own is not really that surprising," Hot Rain's voice trembled in anger. "Once you factor in where your dirty money comes from."

Eric came to a full stop in the middle of the room. He wasn't surprised by someone from outside of Louisiana finally finding out about the vampire blood dealing business. But he was stunned that the information had been leaked by someone he trusted so closely. Just goes to show that the only vampire a vampire can trust is the vampire he made.

"That's one hell of a high horse you're riding there, Hot Rain, but let's not forget it wasn't me who pushed a suicidal vampire to go through with it."

"I thought watching you and Pamela suffer some fucking consequences would be a nice change. But had I known there was an easier human target that would make your own fucking Queen kill you, I'd have gone for that instead. That'd be fucking poetry."

His brows furrowed and he felt his hands form fists at the threat. "Guess you missed out on that."

"I did," Hot Rain leered. "But the others sure won't."

Olivia got out of bed shortly before 2 PM. She hadn't slept in this late since probably her freshman year of college, or maybe her poker tournament days. Automatically her hands fumbled through her sheets looking for her BlackBerry, which was hiding under one of the pillows. The screen was dark and the keys were unresponsive - right. When she got home last night she was so exhausted she had turned the phone off before falling asleep since her brain couldn't muster navigating through the process of disabling just the morning alarm. Liv turned it back on and hopped in the shower. Despite not having Northman or Leclerq related dirty dreams yet again (thank God), she got used to her ice-cold awakening ritual.

She washed her hair, did a hair mask on and shaved her legs. She had to bring her A-game today, starting with calling the Queen's top day person: Mr. Cataliades, her lawyer. He was the Queen's Portia Bellefleur so to speak. Olivia would inform him of last night's trial - that is if the entire Louisiana state didn't already know - and then request access to all of Duprez's records. Something there just didn't sit right with her, and Olivia trusted her own gut more than anything. It had no taste for picking romantic partners, but when it came to her job, it was rarely wrong.

With wet hair dripping onto her loose t-shirt, Olivia headed to the kitchen to pour herself a bowl of cereal, but she encountered a figure sitting outside in the middle of her patio reading the newspaper in a shady spot of her deck, on a foldable lawn chair.

"Excuse me, who let you in here?" Olivia shouted while she pushed through the kitchen's back door, abandoning her cereal bowl altogether.

"Ah, good, you're finally awake," the man put down the newspaper, but it still sat open on his lap as if he were going to resume his reading right after this conversation. The man was not exactly fit but was not in terrible shape either. Judging by the lines on his face, the stranger was in his 50s. He had short buzz-cut grey hair and his brilliant blue eyes studied her. He wore khaki shorts and a navy blue synthetic polo as if he were supposed to be golfing somewhere. "I'm Bobby Burnham, Mr. Northman's day man."

Olivia froze in place, suddenly aware that she was wearing short shorts and a flimsy tee that was half wet from her hair - and no bra. His name was familiar, but she was still suspicious of this stranger sitting in her backyard, so she dove right into his mind - he was telling the truth. Bobby Burnham was a retired cop, and today he lied to his wife saying he was playing golf all day with his buddies. It was his go-to excuse instead of telling the old ball and chain that he worked for vampires under the table to make up for the retirement fund he lost while gambling - which was yet another secret Bobby Burnham was keeping from his wife.

Olivia liked people with secrets, especially the ones she could use for extortion. It didn't make her trust them anymore or less than usual, but having a certain power over her peers brought her a certain kind of inner peace.

"What are you doing here?"

"Check your phone," he said as he popped his newspaper in front of him.

"Is everything okay?"

"Your phone," he repeated from behind the pages.

Olivia headed back to her bedroom and reached for her phone on the nightstand. 13 missed calls and 3 voicemails, all from Eric Northman. Oh shit. She immediately dialled her inbox and listened to the first message.

Olivia pick up the fucking phone! Pick it up! Pick it UP! PICK IT UP! They are coming for you next dammit! Beep-

They are coming? Who's coming?

Listen, I brought you into this mess because you can be my eyes and ears when my own judgement is clouded with Pam's life on the line but now I come back to Fangtasia, my car - I mean your car - the Corvette is still here but you are nowhere to be fucking found; Hot Rain is not working alone and there is nothing but radio fucking silence from you! So please find a way to carve a few moments out of your busiest schedule pick up your goddamn phone and tell me precisely where THE FUCK YOU ARE?! Beep-

Olivia's lips curled in a small smile at the mental image of Eric flying everywhere in town looking for her, trying to beat the sunrise. She sure should not find Eric's panic or rage funny, but somehow there was a bit of cosmic justice in his slight suffering? His last message was much less chaotic, his voice was smooth and cool just like she was used to.

You are home asleep.

There was a long pause on the line. Olivia imagined Eric standing in her yard, watching her sleep through the gap of her curtains.

Bobby Burnham and a few trusted men will escort you until sundown. I have eyes everywhere. Look into Long Shadow and his accounts and report to me at sundown. Don't do anything stupid. Beep-

End of messages.

Olivia reassessed her to-do list given the new information Eric left amid his angry ramblings. According to him, Hot Rain - whoever that was - was behind framing Pamela for the murder of her own progeny. And somehow Long Shadow was involved? And now there were others?

She put her wet hair up with a banana hair clip, changed into a dry t-shirt (and added a bra) and walked back out to her backyard, where Bobby Burnham was still reading his paper.

"Are you armed?"

"Always," his eyes peeked from the top of the pages. His mind thought of the pistol tucked on the back of his belt. It was loaded.

Good. If there were vampires gunning for her next, Shreveport did not have a shortage of criminals ready to do their bidding. It was best she had security with her. "Feel free to come in, use the kitchen and the bathroom as you wish. I'll be working in my office, which is the first door down the hall."

He hesitated, sinking a bit deeper in his lawn chair. "Thanks, but I better stay out here for my watch. Samuel is sitting in his car parked across the street covering the front, but I'll let him know of your hospitality."

Olivia nodded before heading back inside. She had had security detail before when she lived in New Orleans working for the Queen. Liv had armed men following her like quiet shadows for over a year so she knew the feeling. But having people actively watching her after she spent years devoting her time and energy to not being watched, never felt quite right. Once she sat in her office, Liv called the Queen's lawyer, who was surprised at her request on Duprez's records.

She was going to get to Long Shadow, but she was going to test a theory first. "I just have an inkling there's more to last night's events than we know. You know me, Mr. Cataliades-"

"Very thorough, I know."

There was a long pause on the phone. If this was done in person, she would consider trying to read his mind on the matter, but going through his brain always gave her a wicked headache. Plus, every time she did it, there was something about his body language that indicated that he could somehow feel her going through his brain. If he was preoccupied with his computer or was standing across the room while she listened in, he always looked up at her as if she had called out his name. She had a theory that he was not all human. What he was though, she did not know. There were so many supernatural beings walking this earth she couldn't even take a wild guess.

"If this is what I think it is, the Queen might be in trouble," she lied. Kind of? Who knows what she would find.

Clearly, those were the magical words. "Is your machine up and working?"

Mr. Cataliades meant her fax machine. Yes, it was the year 2009 and they still used one. Other than a USB drive, it was the most secure way to send sensitive documents without the prying eyes of viruses and other server bugs. Old school analog was unhackable and Olivia still liked it very much.

About ten minutes after she hung up the phone, her fax machine started ringing and the papers started to roll out with faded small print. Mr. Cataliades had sent her bank statements, property statements, his last 3 years' worth of tax declarations, information on everyone on his payroll plus his phone records. She started combing through it slowly, not entirely sure what she was looking for.

The quantity of information alone was overwhelming. Duprez had been Sheriff for the past six decades, much longer than Eric who was appointed in the mid-80s. She had checked Duprez's accounts at the past three Curia Regis', as she did with all the accounts for all Sheriffs in all five areas - that's how she found Eric's missing money months ago. Still, rule number 2: triple-check the math.

But there was nothing missing - he was clean as a whistle. The Queen did not ask him to do any dirty business either, as she was very selective who gave the opportunity to do so. The Area 2 Sheriff had no recent audits, no big purchases, no new hires. No sketchy money in or out. Duprez was living his quiet and boring life in Alexandria, ruling on behalf of his Queen. Hmm. Olivia checked the phone records, and there were pages and pages and pages of calls to a single 501 area code number. 501? That was Arkansas, not anywhere in Louisiana. Who was he calling?

Olivia headed out back quickly, her mind spinning with questions. The easiest way of finding your enemies was by looking in the obvious places first. Bobby Burnham was still reading the papers and he was visibly startled by her abrupt house exit. For someone keeping watch, he wasn't very alert of his surroundings.

"Do you have Long Shadow's phone number?"

"I'm pretty sure he's… Dead, Miss."

"I know, I need to cross-check something."

Bobby reached for his phone and scrolled down his contact list. Olivia waited impatiently. "Uh... 318 555-"

"Dammit!" She stormed back into the house.

It was now just past 5 PM and the sun was going to set in 2 hours. She had to have some answers before Eric came knocking - making headway in his life's problems was the only way to keep her neck attached to her body, in this case literally. The whole town now knew Eric Northman had the obligation of keeping Olivia intact. And currently, there was a lineup of vamps looking to take advantage of that. She replayed the voicemail messages he left her - he mentioned Hot Rain. Hot Rain is not working alone. Meaning what? He was connected to Long Shadow? He was dead, why did that matter? She had a bunch of puzzle pieces but didn't quite know how to put them together. Olivia walked back out for what it felt like the tenth time.

"Do you know who Hot Rain is?"

"Ma'am, do I look like the vampire phone book?" Bobby responded annoyed.

"Well, you work for one-"

"Yeah, so do you."

Touche. Onto plan B - she had to look into Long Shadow as per Eric's instructions. She didn't like what happened when she disobeyed his requests and time was running out already. "I need to go for an errand."

"Can it wait until sundown? Staying here is the safest place-"

"I am going now, with or without you."

The man looked 10 years older as he sighed and got up from his chair. "He did warn me you are a pain in the ass."

She was going to take it as a yes. Olivia told him she would be ready in 30, as she had to get dressed. He unenthusiastically agreed and called Samuel, the security guard posted out front, about their outing.

Olivia quickly blew dried her hair, smoothing out the kinks of her hair clip; put on some makeup and slipped on a green wrap summer dress, brown sandals and grabbed a matching purse. Bobby was out front on the street, putting his folding chair back in the trunk of his Camry.

"I'll follow you," he said grumpily.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd drive me there. I don't have a car right now," that I know how to drive.

"Fine. Get in," he muttered as the two hopped into Bobby Burnham's car.

It actually saddened her a little that she couldn't drive the car Eric gave her. As soon as she turned 16 her father started teaching her how to drive on his Subaru Legacy Wagon which was automatic. The summer after that he planned on getting his dream car - a vintage Pontiac Firebird - which would be a standard, and he promised to teach her how to drive that one too. He always preached the importance of knowing how to drive both, and he swore that driving standard 'felt' better. Though, she never got to learn or find out which one was superior, as her dad passed away that winter. She could have asked her mom, or cousin to teach her but… It just wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be her dad, and it wouldn't be on his vintage Pontiac Firebird.

Olivia gave Bobby the directions of where she wanted to go and he sighed again, recognizing the address. They drove in silence across the bridge to Bossier, listening to the chatter on the police radio on his dashboard. It was a quiet afternoon in Shreveport.

Bobby's thoughts were loudly bouncing all over the place, wondering why the hell Olivia wanted to go to Long Shadow's house. She had no idea how Long Shadow fit into it all, but it was what Eric had asked and she needed to at least try before sundown. Maybe he had some connection to Arkansas, or Hot Rain, or Duprez, or with any of the three vampires who had falsely accused Pamela.

After being in Eric's house, Long Shadow's home was not at all what she expected. It wasn't grand or in good shape whatsoever. It was an older two-storey suburban home that could use a coat of paint; the lawn was overgrown and slightly burnt from the summer heat. There was no car parked on the bumpy gravel driveway, and all the windows had faded withdrawn curtains. A small stack of newspapers sat rolled up on the welcome mat. Olivia knew it would be useless to knock - it was still daytime and this was a vampire home whose owner was dead dead. Much to her surprise, Bobby knew exactly what to do. He discreetly picked the front door lock with a lockpick he had on his keychain. In less than a minute of standing by the door, they both entered.

The pungent smell hit them first. If she had to put it into words, it reminded her of a rotting dead raccoon inside a compost bin in the middle of summer. The hot stale air from the lack of air circulation hit them second. The AC was off, and the shut windows combined with the closed curtains turned this house into an oven, roasting whatever died in here.

The furniture was straight out of a Sears catalogue from the 90s - and not in a good way - and had a growing layer of dust on it. Long Shadow was not a neat or clean freak by any means, there were clutter and trash everywhere. Thirty seconds into exploring the house and they found the source of the smell. There were goop and muck of vampire remains spread all over the living room. There were guts, pieces of bones, clumps of hair and blood smeared all over the carpet and the walls.

"Long Shadow?" Olivia asked, regretting opening her mouth and tasting it.

"No, this is semi-fresh. Long Shadow died months ago," Bobby spoke with his hands covering his mouth. He had beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Bobby pointed out the signs of struggle in the room. There was an armchair flipped over with a missing arm, the coffee table was smashed and there was a floor lamp broken in half. There were large dents in the drywall too. Whoever this was, went down fighting. Olivia recognized the brown suede fringe jacket tossed on the corner. She saw the victim wearing it last night at the trial. He spoke up against Eric, and the Viking had shot him an extra icy look. Judging by how this room was painted red, she suspected Eric had done this. Tearing people apart was one of his special talents.

Olivia spoke, trying not to breathe the rotten air in. "Hot Rain."

"Okay, mystery solved. Can we get the hell out of here now?" The man asked, concentrating on not barfing.

She shared the sentiment. "I need all of Long Shadow's electronics. Computers, laptops, cellphones, hard drives, the works. His wallet and passport too, if you can find it."

The two split and started going through the crime scene trying to find Long Shadow's belongings. Bobby went for the bedrooms upstairs and Olivia went to the kitchen. Long Shadow's laptop was the easiest find, it was sitting right on top of the kitchen table, plugged in and everything. She opened it, attached her password-cracking software USB to it and moved on to the den.

Long Shadow had a small stuffy office, filled with Fangtasia paperwork, books and a whole lot of baseball memorabilia. On his desk was a business phone with a small red flashing light. Olivia pressed his voicemail button and listened through his messages. Some were from old lovers wondering where he was. Two were surveys, one was a robot-caller awarding him with a free cruise, one was from his bank selling credit card insurance. Then, a cold raspy tone she recognized.

I've summoned you twice now my childe. The plan is in motion and it is too late to stop it. Call me back immediately. Beep-

It was Hot Rain's voice coming through the machine. Hot Rain was Long Shadow's maker! Going after Pamela must have been revenge for Eric killing Long Shadow. But Hot Rain did not know his progeny was dead when he had left this message. What plan was he referring to exactly? Did this have anything to do with the stolen money? She looked at the phone number on the display. She recognized the 501 area code number. Bingo.

Bobby walked down the stairs loudly. "There's someone out front!"

Olivia grabbed the laptop from the kitchen and hastily shoved it in her purse. She couldn't see anyone outside through the drawn curtains, but they both dashed towards the back door. However, they were too late - there were two men already standing directly on the back porch steps.

All of the air residing in Olivia's lungs and bloodstream disappeared. First, the man standing directly in front of her looked right through her soul with his brown stormy eyes. He was the stupidly attractive guy from the jail's parking lot, the man yelling at Debbie Pelt weeks ago. His brows still slightly furrowed, definitely less angry than he was that day but he had a magnetic air about him that made her feel suddenly electric.

Secondly, they were wearing black slacks and white button-ups and the dreaded dark navy windbreakers, with the three bright yellow letters on their chest. She wondered for a second if this was all an awful dream. If she ever thought living out her dirty dreams with Eric Northman was bad, having this tall sex-on-a-stick of a man being a DEA agent blocking her from exiting a vamp murder scene while accompanied with a dirty ex-cop… No, this wasn't a dream. Not even her Slitheryn brain could have come up with such a fucked up nightmare.

"Good day ma'am," the man spoke with a deep and smooth voice. "This is special agent Glenn Costa, and I am special agent Alcide Hervaux," this cannot be happening, Olivia told herself. She felt hot and cold at the same time. It was like she was watching a car crash happen in slow motion where she was both the car and the driver at the same time.

"We are with the DEA. May we come in?"

An:

Hello! Missed you guys dearly 3

To be real for a second, my mental health has not been awesome lately and I just wasn't finding joy in anything (including writing). But something clicked this week and this chapter (and the next one) were born and I had tons of fun writing it!

You guys seem to like Olivia and her criminal brain so I gave you some of that before everything gets fucked up.

Until next time! xoxo