Chapter 38: Little Liar
Olivia got home from her uneventful day just as the sun was setting, happy to finally be alone. The drop had gone perfectly well, even though Lafayette was having an internal panic attack the entire time the postal service lady was weighing and scanning the boxes. The drive to and from Bradley, Arkansas had been long and boring but also filled with a playlist full of gay anthems and lots of laughter. Liv had never taken a drive in a convertible before, and as it turns out, such a car was not designed with a woman in mind. The wind had waged war against her hair, which was now an absolute tangled mess, even though she had tied her hair up in a ponytail 3 minutes into the highway. And luckily, she always had sunscreen in her purse, because the sun came out from hiding on the drive back.
Now she felt sleepy and her skin felt warm like a blanket, lightly toasted by the sun. The feeling reminded her of second summer, her favorite New Jersey season where locals got to enjoy the last bit of summer on their empty beaches after Labor day when all the tourists and New Yorkers left.
After ordering a pizza, she sat on the couch with a hairbrush, turned the TV on, and started the process of trying to salvage her hair from the rat's nest-sized tangles attached to her scalp. Rio had won the bid for the Olympics, which in her world is the actual money laundering Olympics. Everyone gets automatic Gold medals, just maybe not the taxpayers. Swine flu killed some people in Mexico, North Korea was up to shenanigans again, and some important elections were happening in Iraq and Afghanistan. For the local southern news, they talked again about the Louisiana election taking place the next day which filled Olivia with nervousness. If Truman lost, she was dead. If he won, then democracy would be dead instead.
Then, another familiar face popped on TV: the Newlins had skipped bail by not showing up to court in Dallas, and now were considered people of high interest for Texas Law enforcement. The news anchor also advised of a tip line for anyone who knew their whereabouts, and that they had the means to be anywhere in the country, but most likely were traveling by car.
If her stomach was fluttering from the previous segment, now it had done three somersaults in her belly. She made a mental note to tell Eric about the Newlins who might after Godric again or God knows what. Then, she switched the channel to MTV to watch Jersey Shore. It was absolutely trashy and no, people from New Jersey weren't like that at all (obviously)(well maybe a select few in south Jersey). But still, there was a lot of nostalgia involved, and even though everyone in the show was kind of horrible and totally self-centered, she couldn't look away. Their lives were hilarious.
Which was why she couldn't help but scream when she heard a loud crashing sound coming from inside of the house. It was a noise she had never heard before, and it sent her heart rate into the stratosphere. Getting caught by surprise was completely foreign to her, which was the first indication that whoever or whatever had intruded her home was not human. Olivia gathered all her courage and gingerly tiptoed towards the front door, ready to escape the intruder, hoping that he, she or it came alone. This angle allowed her to peak down the hallway that led to the bedrooms, where the sound came from.
She could see a weird wooden ladder blocking the hallway. It took her brain a second to register it was the attic ladder, which significantly narrowed down the possibilities. This could only mean one thing.
"You gotta be fucking kidding me," her shoulders relaxed but her heart rate didn't, as she shook her head, trying to catch her breath. "You almost gave me a heart attack."
Just as predicted, Eric Northman stepped down from the attic, wearing last night's clothes, but his jacket in hand. She would never forget what he looked like, smelled like or tasted like, but the sight of him always awed her. He looked completely rested and comfortable as if he were walking around his own house.
"Good evening, lover," he smirked lazily, giving her a forehead kiss.
Wait a fucking minute - "You slept over?"
The sheer fucking audacity of this man. You give an inch, he takes the whole damn arm. And body. Eric didn't just ditch his Escalade out front and flew home, he never fucking left!
He shrugged. "I quite enjoyed staying in bed with you and lost track of time."
Their expressions could not be more different. Her astonishment amused him. His bullshit annoyed her. Vampires don't lose track of the damn sunrise.
"How was your day?" He asked as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
No one ever asked how her day was. "It was fine. I helped Lafayette with today's drop. We came back earlier than expected since traffic was good on the I-49. There should be another 41 thousand and change in the Virgin Islands account by tomorrow," she replied as if this were equally as normal. It was normal to her.
Eric did not move. "Where was the drop?"
"Bradley."
A dangerously eerie quiet followed. They were about to dance again, this had just been the warmup.
"You went into Arkansas through the main highway with 41 thousand dollars worth of drugs accompanied by a black man?"
"Bobby Burnham escorted us the whole time," she added in a sarcastically happy tone. "I figured having an armed shadow would be of better use to Lafayette than having someone watch me eat cereal and work on a laptop in my own home."
"That," his voice was cold now. "Was the most reckless thing you've ever done, Olivia-"
"Oh no, not even close," she crossed. "I jumped out of a plane with no parachute once. I was also at a party that got bombed by a religious lunatic. And there was also a time when I got arrested while washing over a million dollars of drug money. Driving to a post office and back doesn't even make it to the top 5."
Eric scoffed and his whole body stiff. His lips were a thin flat line. "And Bobby just let you go? Simply followed you two, just like that?"
"God no, he put up a fight. He lost."
She smiled at him, daringly. A small part of her enjoyed provoking him. His eyes were dark, Eric knew he would have to take drastic measures to tame her, measures he simply could not do. "Tell me Bobby at least doesn't know about the V."
"He doesn't know. But he's growing a bit suspicious of the legality of some of your business dealings."
Eric shook his head and stepped closer, towering over her. Her hands wanted to touch his arms, pull him closer and relive last night. Maybe that had been the most reckless thing she had ever done.
"Fine. I'll add a tail on Lafayette, but you cannot risk yourself like this. It's too dangerous to wander into enemy territory."
She snapped. "Do not underestimate me-"
"Do not underestimate yourself, Olivia," he was dead serious. "Your life is too valuable to be thrown away."
Olivia felt the heat rise all over her skin, and it wasn't her newly developing tan, or the lust growing in her body. "My life or your life?" She glared at him. "Is this why I'm under constant surveillance, Eric? Because if something happens to me you're toast? So who's after you? What aren't you telling me?"
She was growing tired of this game. He bought her old apartment from her landlord, he had her under constant surveillance every minute of every day, he escorted her to and from work every single night. And now he had stayed here himself, insidiously invading every corner of her life. What enemy could he have that was so dangerous it required this level of stalking? Was she really that weak, and made him that vulnerable?
Eric looked into her eyes for a moment that stretched itself into eternity, his face was solid like stone. "Have you ever considered this may have nothing to do with that stupid edict of protection?"
And before the real weight of his words settled, he simply left. Eric walked under the citrus trees, opened the gate, got into his car, and drove away. He left her considering the possibility that he wasn't protecting her because he was contractually bound to do so.
But because he wanted to.
Everyone was restless. Murmurs and whispers rose and fell like waves at sea, glances flew like arrows all over the place. That's what he encountered when he walked into Fangtasia. Common court attendance wasn't by any means mandatory, even though there was a group of nosy regulars who always came to watch. But it had never been full like this, so seeing a horde of vampires present was quite alarming. Eric Northman took his time walking up to the steps to the top mezzanine, quite enjoying the slow rise above the unusual crowd.
Pam kept her usual post behind the bar, giving out numbers to those who wished to raise issues to their Sheriff and weeding out the petty complaints unworthy of his time by telling them to fuck off. Once Eric took his seat, he looked across the club, straight at Pam, waiting for her to indicate the first poor soul. She stood there, spot cleaning glassware with a soft towel, and gently shook her head. She couldn't have told all these people to fuck off, could she?
The club went silent after he took his seat. This was when Pamela would announce the first in line, but she kept quiet. A pin could drop out in the parking lot and everyone would hear it. The silence was quite unsettling. He didn't have all night to figure out this fucking charade.
"Please, not all at once." Eric rolled his eyes.
"The new club," a voice shouted from the crowd. "We hate it."
And that's all it took for the voices to come rushing back, but this time they were alive with passion.
"Why did you change it? Fangtasia was fine the way it was!"
"Strip clubs attract too much of the wrong attention, we were already being raided as it was!"
"And why aren't vampires allowed to go into the champagne room?! What's even the point of this place?"
"This ain't a vampire bar no more!"
"Since this ain't a tourist club anymore, do we still gotta come?"
"It's a fucken sausage fest in here now, we had a good thing going Northman, why did you mess that up?"
"Yeah! How am I supposed to hunt now? The clientele ain't coming here for us anymore, we now have to compete with fucking strippers-"
Eric sighed in his chair with relief. Nothing bad had happened, no war had been waged, no vampire had been kidnapped by enemy legions. He had just forgotten that his vassals were pathetic whiny babies from time to time. How blessed they were that this was their biggest problem. Standing up, he grabbed the handrail firmly. Eric stared into the crowd, chin up, demanding obedience. Everyone fell silent again.
"Let me make something extremely clear to all of you," his voice cut through them like glass. "My business decisions are none of your concern. If you aren't happy here you are all more than welcome to leave," he then picked particular faces in the crowd, the ones who made complaints. "Thalia, if you aren't happy here feel free to go back to California Area 2 where the Sheriff demands sexual favors from their residents. Edward, you can return to Virginia Area 1, where taxes are double. Feel free to go to Reno, where the Sheriff will hunt and kill any of your living relatives if you toe out of line. Or, by all means, all of you can go to Wyoming where there are almost no rules, but there's also more livestock than fucking food."
"But what about-"
"I am not here to fucking entertain you!" Eric's voice was sharp now. "If you really want to know why none of you fuckheads are allowed in the champagne room, go ask Anthony Grey who fed on a human in the bathroom last spring break and almost got us shut down permanently."
Anthony was very much in the crowd, now looking pathetically at his shoes, avoiding everyone's gaze. Eric had dragged his ass to vampire court where the Magister ordered the extraction of both fangs. Feeling pity for the poor fucker, Eric suggested a binding instead, and surprisingly the Magister agreed. Now Grey owed Eric a favor of any magnitude, which in his world could very well be a punishment far worse than waiting three months for your fangs to regrow. A debt he was actually planning to collect very soon.
"And to answer your other touching concerns: yes, you still have to come in for your mandatory 3 hours a week because humans still need to see us drinking fucking Tru Blood in order to mainstream or whatever the fuck the directive says. You may bite the willing staff but no marks are to be left on the dancers, and Peter - don't be a lazy and lamentable excuse of a man, and just go fucking hunting for who you want like vampires have done for the past four thousand years. Now, if any of you have real fucking problems worth my time speak to Pam, otherwise grow a pair of fangs, shut the fuck up and leave."
There were whispers of complaints, and snarls under people's breath but one by one almost every vampire in the place left. All except a sharp tall blonde, sitting stiffly at a corner booth as if it were covered in disease. Who does he have to kill around here for him to get a moment of peace?
"You gotta be fucking kidding me," Eric muttered under his breath making his way down the mezzanine. "Nan Flanagan, at what do I owe the annoyance?"
The tall skinny vampire wearing a black pantsuit stood quickly picking up her briefcase and approached Pam at the bar. "I gotta give it to you Northman, you actually can govern. I've seen mutinies take down Sheriffs for much less. Ever thought about becoming King?"
"I like getting shit done and I like keeping my head attached to my neck, so no."
"Hey, all I'm saying is that the gravitas you have is wasted on a place like this-"
"Flattery doesn't suit you, Nan. Get to the fucking point."
An evil light flashed across her eyes. "Well, it seems that you have deviated from our aforementioned plan, Northman."
He had a bad feeling he knew exactly what she was talking about. "Pamela, go fetch me Anthony Grey. It's time to collect his debts." Eric told Pamela in Old Norse, their secret language. Nan may know Irish Gaelic and other obscure dialects, but he had yet to meet anyone who still spoke his native tongue.
"Now?" Pamela knew she was being sent away, and he could see the worry in her eyes.
"Now. We will talk later."
His progeny strutted out of the club, leaving him alone with the viper. He hadn't told her about the Casino yet, and he wasn't sure he would until he was certain Truman would be Governor and that he would make good on his word. Eric had no idea how Pam would take it.
"I went to that stupid gala, I made the papers, what other role do you want me to play on your fucking circus?"
"It seems that whether you want to or not, you keep making political savvy decisions that throw you right back in the ringer, Mr. Northman. Out of all the belles of the ball, you chose Willa Burrell to be your arm candy-"
"A choice I'll regret until the end of my days," he sighed.
"Well, don't. We can use that. I'll need you to keep seeing her."
His fangs jumped out and Eric let out a deep, guttural growl that echoed across the entire club. Nan's jaw clenched and she went a little paler than usual.
"That is quite a sadistic fucking joke if I ever heard one, Nan."
She raised her eyebrows, aghast at his reaction. "Guess we don't share a sense of humor Northman..." her voice trailed off, trying to piece together what he meant.
"Really?" Eric got closer, holding back every urge he had of twisting her head clean off her body. "You can't remember the last time you meddled in my relationships?"
"I truly have no idea what the fuck you're talking about."
"Of course you don't, for you it was just another fucking Monday. But let me remind you: summer of 1986, southern France. You forbid me of seeing Sylvie Brumont because she was a famous vigneron's daughter, and now you have the fucking balls of making me date the Governor's daughter because now her public status is now convenient for the cause?"
Nan rolled her eyes. "Oh, give me a fucking break, Northman! You still remember that?"
"How could I fucking forget? It's what chained me to this hell hole."
"Okay, first of all, you didn't declare yourself to the Sheriff and went three years without paying taxes-"
"Since when does the American Vampire League settle misdemeanors and tax avoidance? That would be a matter for the fucking Magister, so stop bullshitting me."
"Don't be an ass, you know exactly why I couldn't have you drinking and fucking a French socialite in broad moonlight back then! And if I vaguely remember it, I gave you a choice."
She did. The choice was to never see Sylvie again, or else. Blinded by a false sense of self-assurance he chose else, which meant a visit from the Yakuza who then made Eric choose between Pamela and Sylvie. He tried to give his own life instead, but they would have none of it. Eric was far too old and powerful for the Authority to discard. His power, his mere existence, saved his life but felt more like a curse.
Reluctantly, he chose Pamela, and they killed Sylvie right in front of his eyes. They even held them apart until all life drained from her small precious body, so he wouldn't be able to turn or heal her. She died scared and afraid. And because that wasn't punishment enough, he was condemned to be Sheriff of Louisiana Area 5. A privilege to many, but to him, it was a prison.
"You didn't give me shit. You murdered Sylvie for being influential, and now you have fucking audacity to ask me to date Willa Burrell for the same fucking reason not even 30 years later?"
Nan shrugged. "Pretend I'm making it up to you."
No. Not this again, not when he had just gotten who he wanted (sort of). Sure he could keep Olivia as a mistress, but even if she agreed to that, she's not the kind of woman who deserves the role of the side chick. He didn't want Willa, he never did. But it didn't seem to matter to these people, did it? They are more than willing to bulldoze anything and anyone in the name of 'vampire rights', which ironically included vampire-human marriages to all - except him, apparently.
Eric remembered the vision he had on Saturday. Olivia was standing right in front of him on that beach, her golden hair braided, dress fluttering in the wind. He'd rather have this small shred of fantasy than be a pawn in this game again and lose more of himself in the process. He couldn't imagine a version of himself where he would give her up.
"How about you go fuck yourself? I'm done with your games."
She arched her brows in disgust and shock. Nan clearly wasn't told that very often to her face. "Is this what you think this is? A game?"
"Yes, it's all a fucking game, and it's all fucking rigged. I'm done playing. I'm out-"
She slammed her designer briefcase on the counter. "Do you think I give a single fuck about your wants and needs, Northman?! You need to wrap your finger around Willa Burrell so we can keep her daddy in line. And down the line, if you two can play nice, we will push her career all the way to the Senate and get the votes for the Vampire Bills of Rights amendment."
That's how the AVL worked: planning at least 20 years ahead. Little did they know Willa was just a child, who loved going to the mall with friends and dancing with handsome strangers at balls. The poor girl didn't even know that a whole room of corporate assholes had mapped her entire future for her.
But there was a bright neon silver lining on this cloud, and he was about to blind this bitch with it. "I'm afraid the Burrell blackmail train has already left the station, Nan."
Her face closed off. "What did you do?"
"We got a Casino license," he grinned. Among… Other things. "Right here in Shreveport."
"You did… What?"
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, relaxing his shoulders. "I don't know if you heard, but Katrina hit the Kingdom of Louisiana really hard," his tone was facetious. Every vampire in the country knew this. "A lot of us died of exposure when their day-homes were torn apart by the storm, and most vampires lost their shelters altogether due to flooding or human invasion. Let alone all the vampire businesses that shut down, and the vampires who relocated out of state. My Queen needed more revenue to rebuild."
"Your… Queen needed more revenue," she repeated the words as if they were painful to say. Her beautiful evil master plan was roadkill.
"And I'm sure the Authority will be quite pleased with the sizable tax increase they'll get too. We all know how monumental Vegas is to their bottom line, and how crucial it is not to have all your eggs in one basket."
"And what did you do to get it?"
Eric shrugged. "Oh, you're not getting a pro-vampire Senator out of Willa, let's just put it that way."
She pursed her thin lips, and he swore a vein popped out of her forehead. He hoped it caused an aneurysm so big her head would explode. He would happily bask in her blood.
"Very well then," she picked up her briefcase. "Thanks for fucking our plan in the ass."
"Any time, Nan," he smiled as she spun on her heels. "Any time."
She brought in the slimeball named Anthony Grey by the scruff of his jacket. Anthony was a particularly sleazy breed of vampire, and if one day she ever got the displeasure of meeting his Maker, Pamela sure had some questions. After a quick scan of the empty club, there were no Nan Flanagan and no Eric Northman on sight. Not a good second act for this absolute shitshow of an evening. Pamela dropped Anthony next to the bar and he hit the ground like a sack of shit, knocking over three bar stools in the process.
"Well, aren't you graceful?" She grumbled.
He stood up awkwardly, fixing his over-gelled hair. It was shocking it had moved at all. "Fuck you, Pamela! I don't fucking owe you a goddamn thing! If Northman wants me, he can call me up like everyone else-"
"Oh shut up, Anthony. I wear heels bigger than your dick."
Her Maker appeared from upstairs, holding a stack of documents, alone. Nan Flanagan had left. He looked particularly dashing tonight, and perhaps even a little taller. It had been one hundred years, but a small part of her still looked at him in awe. Curiosity really wanted to ask where the hell he spent the day or even last night, but it would have to wait. She had been anticipating Anthony's debt payment for months. Eric had mercifully offered to deal his punishment at High court, and she wanted to see how Anthony would bleed. Whatever it would be, had to be the equivalent of getting your fangs ripped off, and that was quite a task. Vampires heal quickly, but for whatever reason, the vampire canines, the ones that retract, take 3 to 4 months to come back fully. Can you imagine? Having to feed using a knife? The humiliation alone would be almost unbearable.
Anthony changed the tune really quickly in the presence of his Sheriff. He was slimy, not stupid.
"Si-sir! How good to see you! I stand by you, and your new club entirely. Personally, I love the rebrand. Humans these days get bored so quickly, you have to innovate to stay in the entertainment business ya know? And your dancers? Magnificent, I particularly liked-"
Eric didn't even make eye contact, let alone pay attention to the vampire's ramblings. "Quiet."
He put some papers on the counter and started skimming the pages, completely indifferent to Anthony. Pam was practically vibrating with anticipation.
"You still own the dry cleaner down the street?" His eyes did not leave the pages.
"Yes, sir, I-"
"And the car wash?"
"Two of 'em."
"And a laundromat out in Greenwood?"
Grey nodded, forehead glistening. Oh God, was he sweating? Eric started going back and forth on the papers, then he looked up, eyes flat. Pam's mind was buzzing with theories. Was this a hostile business takeover? It's not like they were hard for money.
"Do you know how to launder money?" Eric asked, acknowledging Anthony's physical body.
Anthony stiffened up like a wooden board, and if he were human he probably would have passed out right there and there. His scared beady eyes looked everywhere hoping for divine intervention. He even looked at her.
"Answer the question, dipshit," Pamela ordered. "But need I remind you that your Sheriff already knows the answer?"
"Y-yes, I do," he said in the quietest voice.
"Excellent," Eric closed the folders and straightened the papers. "For that little favor you owe me, I'm going to need you to clean about 100 thousand a week for the next little while. Eventually, it will be less and someday it will be none, but you get to keep 1.5 percent of whatever you clean."
How interesting. For better or worse, Anthony was one of the few vampires in Area 5 who were business competent. His entire portfolio was acquired by blackmail debt-ridden humans, and it was run through all the legal loopholes, with the finesse of a Circ du Solei artist. It was Shreveport's worst kept secret that Grey ran underground dog fights, had his fingers in a brothel in Jonesville, hosted poker games for Louisiana's finest and lowest, amongst other off-book financial ventures. He paid a reasonable amount of taxes to the Kingdom, but he was certainly embezzling his fair share, making it disappear. Eric never took issue with it, he cared more about peace than the Authority's or Queen's bottom line. Plus Fangtasia alone always made enough to keep their superiors fat and happy.
Until now.
Grey stood still as a statue, running numbers and schemes in his head as fast as it could. "I-I don't make that kind of volume, sir, I-"
Eric's eyes flashed in the dimly lit bar. He gently put down his pen. "Which fang would you like me to pull first?"
"No!" His voice cracked. "No! No. All I mean is-"
"What do you mean Anthony?" Pamela sneered.
You could see the gears in his head revolving a full speed trying to get out of this. "To clean that kind of money you'd lose at least 25% in back pay and human taxes, and-"
Pamela could barely contain her grin. "Are you implying your Sheriff doesn't know that? Do you take Eric Northman for an amateur, Anthony?!"
"No! No I don't!" He squealed.
If truth be told, watching him squirm made her a little wet.
"Are we in agreement, then?" Eric's lips were slightly curling upwards. He loved when she played bad cop. "I will be your angel investor on paper, my people will inject your business with said money, and you will wire me 100 thousand weekly from here on out until I tell you otherwise."
And all for the miserable compensation of 1500 dollars a week. It was borderline slave work, and he knew it. Anthony was shaking like a rat in a corner, trying his hardest to come up with a viable excuse to get out of the world's worst round of Deal or No Deal. He was taking a little too long for Eric's patience.
"Pamela, did my ears deceive me or did Thalia seem particularly ticked off about the reason for the off-limits champagne rooms?" Her Maker pretended to change subjects.
Thalia was the only vampire in Area 5 older than Eric. She was small and Greek, and especially ruthless and short-tempered, even for a vampire. She was banished from her nest in Illinois for particularly aggressive behavior. Thalian then moved here due to sheer respect for Eric as a leader, as she found her previous Sheriff to be spineless. The deal was that she got to be a blood-thirsty pitbull, as long as she was Eric's blood-thirsty pitbull. Thalia was usually the one who hunted and killed vampire hunters and trappers, and unauthorized vampire blood dealers and drainers. There were usually very little of their bodies left to even worry about evidence. The chick was the living dead embodiment of a Body Farm.
During Common Court Eric had publicly outed Grey as the reason for the No Vamp Champagne room, which caused a small stir of resentment in the crowd. Pam hadn't seen Thalia's reaction on the matter, and to be frank she wouldn't be so careless and disrespectful as to feed in the club, unlike Grey. But to hear that you had personally pissed off Thalia was reason enough to be concerned. Very concerned. Her rage was mostly against humans, but no one with two working brain cells would be willing to find out the extent of Thalia's wrath.
Pamela didn't know how, but Eric had planned all of this. This had been a master-crafted row of dominos, and she was watching them topple in real-time. If Pam had a heart, it would have skipped a beat in emotion.
"I-I'll do it. I am honored to be in business with you, sir." When Anthony bowed to his Sheriff, she could see sweat stains on the back of his armpits. Ugh.
"Glad to hear it. Sign here." Eric slid the document folder still open down the bar counter.
The vampire signed the deal with the devil with a shaky hand. Eric dismissed him and Anthoney scurried away out to the dark streets, a rat into the night. Her Maker relaxed, happy to be done with his duties for the evening, and to be finally alone with his progeny.
"So you're gonna do it. You're gonna get in business with Anthony fucking Grey for her."
Pamela had very much not meant her as in their Queen. No, the 'her' in question was Olivia Carson. He was going to get in the mud with some really filthy people in order to save the accountant from failing at her job and having to kill her. It wasn't entirely Olivia's fault, though. The exorbitant amount of cash Sophie-Ann was demanding was absurd, and what Olivia had done with the Silk Road website was completely ingenious. They were selling drugs on the internet! And making millions a week off it!
Pamela wasn't Carson's biggest fan, but credit where credit is due. What worried her was the lengths to which Eric was going to save this human.
"I gotta ask, other than her fine ass and her alluring scent, what's so Goddamn special about her?"
"She's fae."
Holy shit. "Are you sure? I thought they left this world."
"They did, their half-human kids did not."
Pam had never met a fairy, and her Maker had assured her she probably never would have. Even when they did live on earth, they were experts on avoiding vampires. All Pam had ever heard were the detailed descriptions of how good they tasted. Olivia's worth was now measured in delightful pints, and they were worth a lot.
Apparently, Eric could see her salivating. "Edict of protection, Pamela."
She twisted her nose. Right, that little annoying detail. But then again, seducing the young accountant could be fun. "Oh, I know. This is going to be such a delightful little game."
"Enjoy my sloppy seconds, then." Eric half grinned.
Ugh. "Eric why even fucking tell me this if you already stuck your dick in it!?" Pamela slumped her shoulders.
"Because my dear Pamela. Olivia can also read minds."
Well, well, well if that wasn't something. Pamela took a long thoughtful pause, thinking of all the times Olivia magically seemed to know things before they happened. Or found out other people's secrets. All the times she stuck her nose in everyone's business. How she found Godric in Dallas, or how she knew about the raids. Mind reading… She knew everything… About everyone? About them? Wait a fucking minute-
"Can she read ours?"
"No, just humans."
Damn, still the possibilities of how they could use her were fucking endless.
"Is she yours?" Pamela asked immediately. "Eric, she's gotta be, she's too valuable to belong to nobody-"
"I am working on it, but-"
"That stupid protection clause, right. Do you think Sophie-Anne knows? There's no way she doesn't, right? And if she did then why didn't she keep Olivia for herself? Why did she give her away to you?"
Eric approached her slowly, with kind eyes. She could tell he did not have all the answers, and that was done with that topic.
"I have something else to tell you, Pamela," his voice was heavy.
He approached her slowly and ran his fingers through her freshly blown-out hair. She frowned in worry at how he looked at her as if he were to break her. It made her scared.
"Willa's father is going to win the election tomorrow,"
That wasn't what she was expecting. "Okay, and?"
"We struck a deal to get us on the same page. We will leave Willa Burrell alive and untouched,"
Nothing about this sounded good. There were two things Eric and Pamela stayed away from: humans who ate a lot of fish, and politics. "I thought you didn't want to touch her to begin with."
"I still don't, but Truman doesn't know that. In exchange, he will get the DEA off our backs. No more Alcide, and no more raids."
Pam raised her brows. "He can do that?"
"And," there was more?! "Burrel will secure us a Casino license."
Was the room spinning? Was the AC suddenly off? Every mayor, every congressman, every public office official in Louisiana had an open dislike and distrust for vampires. And now Eric had blackmailed a Governor to give them the most coveted piece of paper every businessman worth their salt could dream of? Just like that?
"How? Where? When?" Pamela had so many questions.
A shiver went up her spine as the grandiosity of what he just told her sunk in. Eric had asked Grey to launder his drug money only temporarily. He wasn't playing low-stakes poker here, he was going all-in with the professionals. Eric would buy land, manipulate city councilors, find investors and bankers, put out multi-million dollar contracts with developers, strike deals with hotels, restaurants, and entertainment centers, become part of the state-wide tourism plan, hire a board of directors, hire hundreds of people - humans and vampires. The first vampire-owned casino outside of Vegas would be first-page news throughout the whole fucking country. Eric could expand and build his own vampire hotel, like the Carmilla. Five-star restaurants, a huge entertainment center for touring artists. He could franchise Fangtasia, he could even open vampire-only clubs. Hundreds of vampires would move here, dozens would bend the knee to work for him. The Silk Road money they were making would be play money compared to how high they would fucking soar.
Pam's head was suddenly full with a certain reality-warping euphoria. But also, unfiltered fear.
Eric was risking a hell lot of more than his own neck for Olivia, he was risking everything to become powerful enough no one could take the world's possibly last fae from him. He was done being a pawn in anyone's game. Be in charge of that much money, power, and influence, and not even the Authority can fuck with you. There was simply no way the Queen was going to let one of her Sheriffs, especially one who has enough blackmail material to destroy her, have that much power without putting up a fight. This power play was an open act of defiance, a call to war, and it was extremely unlike him.
"The Queen won't ever allow one of her Sheriffs to control so much of her Kingdom," Pamela told him, looking at his beautiful dark blue eyes, her heart full of worry.
"I know, which is why it won't be me, my fierce child," his hands gently cupped her face, holding her dearly. "It will be you."
A.N.:
hello bonjour loveliess
Man, A LOT happened in this long-ass chapter I'm out of breath just editing this thing. But, we got some Pam! I've missed her dearly and I've missed YOU! It's a crime against humanity to leave all these cliff hangers lmao
As always, leave some love in the comments xoxoxo