Chapter 67: The Hunger
Everything was a blur for longer than she would have liked. The killing of a vampire monarch is not merely another knot in the long string of deaths around her. It's not just some footnote in a book or a small blip in space and time. Olivia watched in horror the birth of a Vampire King happen right in front of her eyes. Maybe Eric had a King inside him all along, a birthright that wasn't allowed to flourish. Or, one that he had stifled until that very night.
Eric spoke simply, but his words were orders. He gave all the vampires present at Sophie-Anne's court three options: bend the knee, flee Louisiana or meet the true death. André was the only one to choose the third option. He attempted to kill Eric and avenge his Maker, but all he managed was to get his severed head floating in the pool. Most of the others bent their knee without hesitation, not willing to meet the true death for the sake of a Queen they claimed to love and be fiercely loyal to until the end of their undead nights. Not all vampires take promises as seriously as Eric does.
The two of them left the sunroom and went back to the main house. Eric's gaze did not meet Olivia's. His focus was narrow and precise as if somehow, he knew exactly what to do. He emptied the palace of guests and ordered his new guards to lockdown the estate while he made phone calls. He had Sheriffs of Area 2, 3 and 4 to assassinate and replace before the sun went up in order to secure his position. Pamela remaining in Area 5 was a no-brainer, and Monarchs are Sheriffs of their own areas. Still, hostile takeovers are a bitch.
Olivia watched him work plenty through the security cameras of the Fangtasia office, and she knew Eric worked his questionable machinations as Sheriff of Area 5 when she wasn't around. He even murdered plenty. Except it wasn't the same. She was an accessory to it, covered in blood, with empty hands and an even more hollow inside. God, what had she done?
What had he done?
She haunted the empty halls of the abandoned palace, trying to come up with the next move, but unlike Eric, her mind was blank. There was no next move. The game was over, and she wasn't even sure if she won. It didn't feel like it. She had hit the big red nuclear button, just to be outdone by Eric who for some God-forsaken reason, shattered their entire world.
All she knew was to make herself useful, and indispensable. Irreplaceable. But she couldn't see how. She feared that without the drugs and the crimes… She had no value at this table. Olivia could try to find a new cartel, or maybe work for Eric in some distant capacity, but her heart was begging her to find a way to stay here. And she knew exactly why.
She fell for him. And the Queen was dead because of it. God, her death was just the tip of the iceberg. She's seen him kill. She watched him butcher actual people, tear their flash apart, break their bones, rip their hearts right out of their chests. She knew he hunted half a pack of werewolves and shredded them all. Yet, she undeniably loved him. She loved how he protected her, how he trusted her, how he consumed her whole when they kissed. His stubbornness, his fearlessness, how he cared for her and never left her side when she was hurting. He brought her comfort instead of letting her bury her guilt and fear so deeply it would never be found again. And with the way her life had been going lately, her emotions were getting harder and harder to bury. The mass grave of her conscience was getting too full to fit anything else. But Eric took the pain away, and she loved him for it.
Olivia shook her head, snapping out of it. Her mind turned back to work, it simply had to. Whatever else she was feeling right now was much too giant for her to think about.
Hey - maybe the game hadn't changed. Maybe she just had levelled up to terrifying heights. From up here, she could make the rules of the game. Maybe the blood on her hands was worth it.
Olivia considered mourning Sophie-Anne for a moment, but the memory of her red-tipped claws squeezing Eric's neck made the moment brief and fleeting. How could she ever have thought Sophie-Anne loved her? She used her. The Queen only cared for because of what she could do, and what she was and never who she was. How could she be so stupid that she couldn't see the difference?
Grabbing a tray off the floor, she started cleaning up the abandoned flutes of champagne and blood (that she doubted was synthetic), as if she were busing tables at Fangtasia still. Except, there was no bar sink juice to wash money in. It was hard to believe their V era was over. Although she knew it was for the better, she couldn't help but grieve it. She was good at it. She enjoyed it. Now it was gone.
There was also something to be said about all the blood she was pouring down the kitchen sink. Bloodshed, washing away more bloodshed.
She moved quietly around the grand empty manor, hearing Eric's warm voice on the phone speaking in languages she didn't know. It was the only sound in this entire place. He didn't sound angry or happy, just business-like, as if this were just another Tuesday. It was comforting in a way.
But the more she thought about Eric betraying his own convictions, the less space her chest had for her guilty beating heart. Eric did not want to be King. She believed him every single time said it. Then why, why did he do it? Why did he claim her crime?
She remembered his blue eyes, full of calm, staring down at her just as he had done a thousand times before. His face splattered with blood, his hand holding the consequences she brought upon them. Could he have done it for love? Or was the Queen right?
He doesn't have the heart you think he does-
No. Her instincts begged her not to believe a word that bitch said. But the seed of doubt was already planted.
Did Eric only take the throne because he couldn't kill her or because he couldn't give up the sun? Was he a slave to his heart or the bond? Could he separate her from her fairyness? She didn't know which answer she feared the most. All she ever wanted was his trust, not his blind obedience, or reckless sacrifice. But all she got instead was falling in love, and now she wasn't so sure if it was worth having it. She thought all this blood spilled had been for power, but maybe it was all done out of love. Maybe that's what his protection meant. Maybe Dr. Ludwig was right, there was a reason why the love between a vampire and a fairy was forbidden. It created too much destruction.
She watched him lazily pace around the hallway, talking to his phone, his back always turned to her. Maybe Eric couldn't look at her because he blamed her. He resented what she made him do. That thought felt far worse than killing Sophie-Anne.
"What are you doing?" Eric suddenly entered the parlour she was in, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He was still covered in blood.
Her heart trembled. The bond between them felt stronger than ever, yet she couldn't read it.
He found her in the middle of the piano room, holding a half-full trash bin. During her many trips to the kitchens, she had found a blue plastic bin for the recyclables in a cabinet, and started to collect empty bottles of champagne, and sparkling blood scattered throughout the palace. Tonight, and the hundreds of nights before it had been her mess. She was supposed to clean it. She was supposed to pay the price for it. Not him.
Olivia shrugged. "The place is messy."
"Since when do you care about a messy house?" He approached her slowly, but she did not respond, as the pit in her throat was suffocating her. "Are you alright?"
"No, I'm not alright," she confessed, not being able to hold anything in anymore. There was no more space. "Nothing about tonight was alright, Eric!"
He slowly approached, walking in a wide circle around her, studying her blood-stained dress. Eric wore the blood on his skin and clothes with comfort. Olivia was still uncomfortably aware of every drop on hers.
"Which part?" He smirked. "When I tried to save your life or when you saved mine?"
Olivia pressed her lips tightly together, glaring at him. Now was not the time to be coy. Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper, all too aware that she spent a good part of tonight screaming in Fangtasia's basement. "I killed a vampire-"
"That you did," he raised his eyebrows, a faint sign of a smirk on his lips. "How did you learn that? I mean, she was distracted wanting to rip my head off, sure, but it was perfect form."
"Thalia," Olivia confessed, not wanting to get her vampire bodyguard into trouble, but Eric didn't seem or feel angry. He was impossible to read. Olivia tried to push down her conscience a little deeper, but she could never mute the Sophie-Anne that lived in her head. You'll let her run your life, cater to her every whim, sacrifice everything to keep her-
She had to know. A burst of courage filled her chest, and she recited his words back at him. "A human kills a vampire, they must die. No exceptions. You told me that, and yet…"
The words came to her as if it happened moments ago when Eric forbade her from killing Bill Compton. He dared her to stab him using that very same stake, only for him to disarm her in the blink of an eye. Later that very night, Thalia improved the stake by removing the silver cap and sharpening it with a kitchen knife. Liv had been holding onto it ever since.
"Are you seriously asking me why I didn't kill you?" He was not taking her seriously.
But she had to know. She had to hear those words, even if they were going to undo her. "I am."
There was a terrifyingly long pause. "You aren't human," Eric said, sticking his hands in his pockets.
She didn't let herself feel disappointed. "Neither was Debbie Pelt."
Olivia wrestled enough with her own guilt in the matter of the werewolf's death, and she wasn't mad Eric killed Debbie after what she had done to Chow. But he hid what he did from her, and if there is one thing she knows for a fact, it is that there are always bad reasons for Eric hiding the truth.
He tilted his head oddly, his voice dropping into a smooth and deadly whisper. "How did you know that was me?"
The truth was that she didn't, not for certain. Alcide told her days ago that Debbie had died that very same night she attacked Olivia. And sometime between Eric taking her to his house, and waking her up to beg for her blood bond, he murdered Debbie and made it look like a suicide. All she did was put one and one together - and she was right.
"Because you never break your rules, Eric. Why did you do it?"
A small sly smile grew in the corner of his mouth as Eric started to walk away, towards the main hall. "The same reason why you keep breaking yours, I suppose."
She watched the clouds go by the window with a heavy heart. Eric put her on an Anubis plane back to Shreveport at first light, with three laundry lists worth of tasks. Now, being here, alone in this jet, Olivia was trying to convince herself this wasn't the past repeating itself yet again. Eric wasn't banishing her to Area 5 to oversee the shady businesses of the local Sheriff. But yet, she was working for the Monarch of Louisiana again. Being sent away on a plane again. To work with a narcissistic, deceitful, triple-A award-winning asshole Sheriff again. Holding her heart in her hands, again.
Living a life like this was dangerous, unpredictable and full of risks, she knew that. But despite the uncanny feeling of Deja Vu, she knew nothing would ever be the same. Once Liv landed, Bobby Burham was already waiting for her at the end of the tarmac to take her home.
Olivia felt slightly relieved. She desperately needed 16 hours of sleep before tackling what was ahead. She was to stay in Shreveport until the end of the week, reworking the entire portfolio's accounts to slowly wean the dirty money influx, and work with Portia on the Casino project. Come Saturday, Olivia, Pamela and her newly pointed officials would go down to New Orleans to witness the coronation of their King. She had obviously never seen a coronation of any kind, but the thought filled her stomach with butterflies. And what would happen after that… It would be up to Eric to decide since he went from being her client to being her boss. Funny how that worked.
As for her driver, Bobby wasn't particularly thrilled to see her. He eyed her vintage black dress, taken from Sophie Anne's closet since her own was soaked in blood, and he asked himself why would Olivia have travelled without any luggage but ultimately said nothing.
He looked grumpier than usual and when he opened the door for her, it was the back passenger door - not the front one. Ever since she threatened to expose his real job to his wife, things between them had never been the same.
They drove straight to the city, listening to the radio news. But Olivia was too lost in her own thoughts, submerging herself into her work, trying to get away from any and all her worries as she always did. But the radio's announcer yanked her back to reality.
"... And in vampire news, this morning Louisiana's Vampire Royal Palace is sad to announce the passing of their Queen, Sophie-Anne LeClerq at age 550. She died peacefully in her New Orleans home, from natural causes."
Olivia's stomach had a visceral reaction to the words, suddenly squeezing all its contents. She had to breathe deeply through her nose in order not to throw up all over the backseat. Humans knew very little of the real vampire world, and not every monarch stood out. But Sophie-Anne was not one to fly under the radar. Even her palace was one of many historical attractions of New Orleans. No one passed the gates uninvited, but there were always tourists outside, taking pictures. Her life and story were one of NOLA's mysteries. But if the human press knew about her death, it was because either Eric or the Vampire Authority made it so.
Natural causes… Is that what they are calling murder nowadays?
Bobby immediately glared at her through the rearview mirror. His loud mind already trying to decide if Olivia had something to do with her death or not, since Olivia's flight came straight from New Orleans. What would happen if someone found out the truth?
"Did you know her?" He asked unceremoniously.
Her mouth was suddenly dry, and her eyes dropped to her hands immediately, triple checking she had successfully scrubbed all the blood from under her fingernails, as if that would give her away, somehow. "Just in passing," she lied.
Or maybe she didn't. Sophie-Anne's intentions with her were never that deep, and as it turns out, completely one-sided. Olivia was just caught up in her fantasy, just like everyone else.
After getting home, Olivia undressed and took a very long bath. In it, she played the 12 voicemails from her phone - 11 from Portia, and one from her mother. Her stomach did another flip, already expecting the worst since her mother had been sick for years, and part of her was constantly waiting for the shoe to drop. But she was just saying hello, and asking if she arrived home okay. Olivia suddenly wished she hadn't fought with Tommy on her short trip home. She came very close to dying the last two nights, and she didn't want that visit to have been her last. Olivia would have to be on her very best behaviour come Thanksgiving, to hopefully try to make it up.
She hopped into bed around midday, after closing her curtains as much as she could, trying to make the room dark. She laid in bed for a minute, getting used to the peaceful quiet again; to the large, empty bed that would receive no visitors while she slept.
For the first time in her life, she felt desperately lonely and it made something inside herself shift. She forced herself to remember that one day, the shoe would drop. Her mother's clock was ticking, there was no cure. Every doctor to have ever diagnosed her mother said so. One day she would get The Call. Or that she'd visit New Jersey, walk through that door and see her last living parent frail and dying, and Liv would know in her heart it would be time to leave all of this behind, and be with her mother during her final days.
There could be no choice. Her rules were rules for a reason. The time would come when she would have to leave him and all of this behind, otherwise… All the crimes, all the blood and death wouldn't have been to save her mother. It would have been plainly because she… Liked it.
Or worse, because she loved him.
There was no mass grave big enough to bury that kind of guilt.
Her sadness and turmoil quickly gave way to an unexplainable wave of anger. She slammed every cupboard and every drawer of her house while getting ready for her night shift at Fangtasia. Being a workaholic, she hasn't dreaded going to work in years. But even thinking of dealing with the new Sherriff of Area 5 made her want to crawl out of her own skin, even if Pamela saved her ass twice this week.
But not all about today was lost. Her late afternoon call with Portia was immensely productive, but maybe that was because she barked orders to the lawyer who just listened and agreed to every request, too afraid to contradict anything.
There was a knock at her door shortly after she was ready, which was unsurprising since Pamela texted her someone would personally drive her to come at nightfall for security purposes. The blonde vampire apple didn't fall far from the blond vampire tree.
When she opened the door, there stood a bleach-blond vampire, with his hair gelled back. He had a handsome bony face, with strong brows and big brown puppy dog eyes. He wore all black under a black leather jacket. He looked like a 90s Lost Boys version of Eric, but not so tall.
"You gotta be kidding me," she muttered under her breath while she begrudgingly locked up her house.
"Well aren't you lovely," the vampire smiled, his accent was British and his voice was smooth like butter.
Olivia strutted away from the vampire, all too conscious he wasn't Eric, and even more conscious of why he needed a replacement. Pam's pick of bodyguards stung more than it should have.
The man intercepted her when she approached the giant Escalade parked out front, the one that Chow used to drive. This time, the sting burned right through her, exactly as it should have. People who vow to protect her suffer terrible fates. He opened the door for her and she glared at him without saying anything.
"Chivalry is undead, after all," he smirked.
She pressed her lips tight and entered the car without a word. During the drive, she could feel him staring at her through the rearview mirror. She wanted to tell him to pay attention to the road, but she didn't care. In fact, she had to stop caring, about everything and everyone, and quickly, before anyone else died.
Once the car parked in the back lot, Olivia almost threw herself out of the car and stomped her way inside without looking back. Still, deep down Liv was thankful that James was here, in this dark and deserted place. She hadn't made it to the door the last time.
The Fangtasia she entered tonight was very different than the Fangtasia she left yesterday. Pamela was up on the mezzanine, sitting tall on the throne which was a shocking sight to begin with. She had her chin up, watching her people carefully through her long lashes. She looked as if she always belonged in that seat. The dancers all wore black leather and latex, and heavy makeup. The patrons were mostly vampires, and the humans present were almost trying to pass as such. The music was louder and faster. Voices were livelier, and there was even a horrible laugh, screeching across the club floor. It was as if the club had been taken over by demons. This was hell.
It wasn't even two seconds after she sat in the crummy office getting ready for a shred of normalcy when Pamela hauntingly entered the room. The vampire Sheriff wore black pumps, and a halter latex dress with spike studs adorning the shoulders and chest cutout that revealed a daring amount of cleavage. Her makeup was heavy as usual, this time with pink lipstick and her blonde hair was up in a bun, with two hair sticks going through it, looking sharp like daggers. It wouldn't surprise her if they were actual weapons either. Then James waltzed in right after, closing the door behind him.
"I take it you liked your replacement?" Pamela's voice was too high and cheerful, and it came across as nails on a chalkboard.
Olivia rolled her eyes, not acknowledging the way James stared at her with a smirk, leaning on the wall behind him.
"What do you want Pamela?" She asked.
"The blood," she said with less excitement, but just as much twang in her voice. "It's gotta stop."
She didn't like that Pam was speaking about it in front of James, who she had never seen before. But, Pam had as much to lose as Olivia did, so she figured she could somewhat trust the guy.
"No shit Sherlock," Olivia shook her head. It really didn't have to be said, not after everything that had happened.
"Hey!" James' voice suddenly boomed in the room. "Respect your Sherriff!"
"She's not my Sherriff!" Olivia barked back, getting up from her chair and confronting him with every ounce in her body. James stared her down, frozen at her reaction. The size of her own anger surprised even her.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Whether or not Pamela was trying to replace Eric with James or not, she didn't know. But Olivia hated her for it all the same.
"You, go watch the front door and let us girls sort all this sexual tension," Pam purred, and her eyes did not peel away from her.
James mumbled a grunt under his breath and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Olivia leaned on her desk and cross her arms, not looking forward to the rest of this conversation.
"Let's start over," Pamela sighed loudly, annoyed at the commotion. "All the blood and anything even remotely related to it needs to cease to exist. Immediately. Eric's gonna pin this on Sophie-Anne, but there must be no loose ends."
Eric had the gift of making everything sound like an order. Pam's gift was to make everything sound like a threat.
"Our Silk Road account is already gone, unfilled orders are refunded, the Bit coin is sold, and I'll bounce the money around a few dozen rounds before start closing the offshore accounts." Olivia nodded. She could do this shit in her sleep.
"Well, look who's a good girl," Pamela praised her with a dirty smile. "I'll send James to take Lafayette out and we can put this fucking nightmare behind us."
Olivia shot to her feet, almost knocking everything off her desk. "Take him out? What do you mean, take him out?!"
She thought her reaction amusing, the grin on her face was pure evil. "To a nice candle-lit dinner."
"You can't be serious-"
"He's not only in possession of a shitload of vampire blood, he just knows too much. He's the smoking gun any of our enemies need, and as you know, we got a few of those."
The 'as you know' felt very pointed.
"Lafayette has made you millions of dollars, risked himself every single day and has been nothing but loyal to you-"
"He got paid, didn't he?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then we don't owe him a fuckin' thing," Pam wasn't smiling anymore. "That boy will sing like a fat lady at the opera if the Magister finds him and you know that."
"Then erase his memory."
Olivia felt her stomach curling into itself at her own words. She never thought she'd see the day when she would suggest wiping someone's mind. Perhaps only she knew the true horrors of mind modification, being a telepath, but she always found it to be twisted, invasive and cruel. It was brainwashing at best and taking someone's free will at worst. She also didn't like standing here, discussing the fate of one of the very few friends she had. It was a power she didn't want to have.
"Fine," Pamela rolled her eyes. "I'll send James to glamour him."
Her heart squeezed tight in her chest, imagining Lafayette's mind fading into a white fog of forgetting. She had to remind herself that it was better than being tied to a cinder block and being thrown into the Red River.
"Can you do it tomorrow night?" Olivia asked. "I'd like to say goodbye."
"By the time James' done with him, he won't remember you."
"But I will."
"God, you're such a girl. Fine, whateva," Pamela scoffed. "You think you can finish laundering the money now?"
"Yes. It will take me at least a year, but the Casino reno will help."
"Good, 'cause we're gonna fuckin' need it. Hiring assassins to wipe out Sherriffs wasn't cheap," Pamela glanced at the mirror, then grabbed a pink lipstick off the desk and reapplied carefully. "Did ya hear anythin' from the Mayor's office?"
The nightmare continued. Olivia had blackmailed Joshua Peterson at his house only two nights ago, but it felt so incredibly distant. "Yes, Portia has the paperwork. But you should really smooth things over with him, maybe donate to his campaign or the city. I squeezed the first lap out of him, but there's another 70 to go."
She sucked her teeth and put the cap back on her lipstick. When she turned back around, she proved that pink was the scariest colour. "There's two things I steer clear from humans who eat a lot of fish, and politics. I'll let you handle that."
"I'm not very good at smoothing things over," Olivia protested.
"That ain't what you told me last night," her blue eyes pierced right through her.
Her mind replayed Sophie-Anne's last moments like a movie in her head. Her claws on Eric's neck. The resistance of her flesh against the sharp wooden stake. Her dull eyes. Blood dripped off her body, blood that wasn't hers. "She was going to kill him, so I-" Olivia whispered, but the words just wouldn't come out.
"You?" Her whole face changed. "You did it?"
Olivia shook her head. She didn't know why she was telling her this.
Pamela's shoulders dropped, and she her eyes softened, as if had never seen Olivia - this Olivia - before. Without saying another word, Pamela came closer and flung her arms around her in a strange, long, and stiff hug.
"Thank you," the vampire whispered into her hair, so quietly she wasn't even sure it was real. "He would never be King otherwise."
And it was at that very moment that Olivia understood what she had really done. Eric had not merely saved her. He sacrificed himself.
It wasn't one soul she had killed. It was two.
Olivia lay in bed for a very long time before getting up. She just savoured the feeling of holding Eric's sword with her eyes closed, trying to get back to sleep. It was a recurring dream she had, meeting Eric at a beach at sunset. They both were strange medieval clothing, but she could tell they were crafted for special occasions. She couldn't remember if Eric ever said anything, but she remembered vividly how looked at her, with soft eyes and a genuine smile. Between them, calm and euphoric happiness.
She wondered what it all meant. What was the universe trying to tell her?
When she reached for her phone, there was a voicemail from Eric from a few hours ago.
"I'm looking at the sun rising over the ocean," his voice said over the phone.
Then just a long quiet silence. She closed her eyes and imagined she was there with him in New Orleans, watching the sun rise over the waves with him. In her mind, it looked just like the dream. Sunrises and sunsets are always beautiful, and she had seen her fair share of them. But for Eric, he had gone a thousand years being denied this small beauty. He spent a thousand years in the dark, living in the shadows. She imagined those blue eyes, lost on the horizon. His skin glowed with the sunlight, and the ocean breeze on his blond hair. She wished she was there with him. She imagined her fingers intertwining with his. Her heart started racing at the spontaneous thought that he might say I love you into the phone before the end of the message.
But he didn't. Not even an I wish you were here. Part of her was thankful, but part of her feared this was another unrequited love. What if Sophie-Anne was right?
Why did you break your rules?
The same reason why you keep breaking yours.
The message just ended a minute later without another word. She squeezed the phone in her hand. No. The Queen was wrong, she had to be.
"Snap out of it," she whispered angrily to herself.
Even if Eric did say and meant it, it didn't matter. She shouldn't love him at all.
It wasn't too much later that she was back in her car, on her way to Bon Temps. She would give Lafayette the quick news and then head to Portia's office to tackle a four-foot-high pile of paperwork.
Once her car pulled up in the gravel driveway, the heat instantly welcomed her with open arms. Despite being early fall, the weather did not get the memo. The midday sun was blazing above, with cicadas screeching their song from the trees. On his porch, she spied the beer cooler on top of an old wooden bench, where vampires dropped off their blood. Peeking inside, it was only filled with half-melted ice. He would never let the product sit out for long, Lafayette was a professional. But after today, there would be no more drop-offs. Her blood empire was dust.
Olivia knocked on the door, feeling the entire facade of the house shake a little. When there was no answer, she knocked again. There were shuffling noises inside, and his warm and smooth voice called out.
"Hold on! Hold on! Damn-" He hollered, finally opening the door.
Lafayette wore baggy low-rise cargo pants, showing his purple boxers and no shirt. He had an impeccable body, and from what Eric told her, he was very popular on the internet because of it. He was smoking a cigarillo on a long golden cigarette holder. He put his neck out of the doorframe, scoping his driveway.
"That Kevin Costner hottie still workin' for yas?" He asked, nodding at Bobby who parked directly behind her. She honestly hadn't even noticed he followed her out here, she was so used to it. Lafayette fluttered his eyelashes and waved his cigarillo flirtatiously at Bobby, who sulked in the car, trying to focus on his newspaper.
"Yeah, he's staying in the car," Olivia sighed. "Can I come in?"
"Don't gots a choice, do I girlboss?"
No, he didn't. Olivia entered the small but extravagant house, filled with mismatched furniture in different animal prints, and bright purple walls. His home smelled heavily of weed and incense, and he had just as much clutter spread everywhere as she did in her own home. She liked it here, it brought her comfort in a weird way. She remembered spending many afternoons sitting on his kitchen table, packing blood orders together. She remembered the party where she sipped cajun margaritas on that very couch, hearing Hoyt and Jason shoot beer cans in the backyard. It wasn't all quite gone yet, but she already missed it.
"So, what's shaking in the vamp world?" He asked, putting his smoke out.
"Some things have changed and Mr. Northman is changing business directions," she said in her best business voice. "You must cease selling blood."
Lafayette's lashes fluttered in disbelief, as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Bitch, what?"
Her heart was in her throat, trying to jump out of her body.
"I already refunded all orders, shut down the Silk Road store, forfeit our selling license and deleted all traces of the account. You may throw out or keep any inventory you have left if you wish, but if you are caught with it in any capacity we cannot help you."
His emotions filled the house as if a bomb had gone off. "Naw, naw hooker you gots to be jokin'-"
"It's nothing personal and trust me, it's for the best. For all of us."
This was nothing like dealing with the DEA. The Magister didn't particularly follow an honour code or protocol, there was no backdoor deal she or Eric could make. Pam was right, if Alonso or his cronies found Lafayette they would slowly torture him for all his secrets and have fun doing it. It was already a miracle Pamela agreed to let him live, and she wished she could explain that to him. But you don't tell a friend you negotiated for their life and sound like the good guy.
"Well thank Lord Hallelujahs it ain't personal!" His sarcasm was obvious as threw his hands in the air and started pacing around the room.
She threatened Governors, blackmailed Mayors, confronted cult leaders, and dealt with werewolf drug dealers at knifepoint, but this one felt truly gut-wrenching. Lafayette was her friend. She wasn't supposed to do this to a friend.
How the fuck am I supposed to pay for mama's hospital now? Workin' two jobs was barely fucking cutting the bills before.
Her heart broke into a million pieces. If Olivia was fired or unable to provide for her own mother and family, she would take it personally too.
"You will receive a severance package, so you don't have to worry about your mom, " she assured him, hoping he would make the best of it, and that it would be enough. She would find the money, somewhere.
Then, silence. His brown eyes focused on her with a dark rage that chilled her to the bone. "How the fuck do you know about my mother?"
Air seized in her lungs. She had read his mind so many times, she lost track of what he said out loud or not.
"Well, you must have told me," she lied, trying to freeze her face of any emotion. She had been in a tight spot like this many times for saying things she had no way of knowing, but she could usually gaslight her way out of it.
"The fuck I didn't!" His voice dropped as lips curled with every word. "I ain't tell my own blood about my mama, and I sure as shit didn't tell you!"
Her heart started racing. "Lafayette, calm down-"
"Are you fuckin' following me?!" He yelled.
Her face was so hot there was no use trying to hide anything. "Of course not! I-"
"Get out!"
"Lafayette I can explain!"
"Then explain!" He roared. "Tell me how you fuckin' went behind my back and got blackmail on me in case I ever stepped outta line!"
"This is not true! Lafayette, you are my friend! I am trying to help you!" She cried out.
"Friend?" The pain in his voice was cutting. "Friends don't make friends do fucking crimes, Olivia!"
Rat in a maze. Dead end, nowhere to go.
"I didn't make you do anything!"
"Eric fuckin' Northman kept me chained in that goddamn basement for three fucking weeks, forced me to sell this shit for him this whole time and yous walk in here and dump my ass like it's fuckin' nothin'? Like I haven't made both of yas millions of fucking dollars?!"
Her heart may have stopped beating as she pictured Lafayette as one of faces chained in that basement. Covered in filth, trembling in fear. Only to be torn apart by none other than Eric.
The door suddenly opened with a burst, and in walked Bobby, hand on his gun holster. Both Lafayette and Olivia saw it, and she prayed to God for Lafayette not to do anything stupid.
"Do we have a problem?" Bobby said, with a casual threatening tone.
The word barely left her lips. "I didn't know he-"
"Then you is either blind or stupid, and I sure as fuck know you ain't either. Which can only mean you are a fuckin' liar."
"Hey!" Bobby snapped at Lafayette, who took two steps back. "Olivia?"
She clenched her jaw, stiffening every muscle in her body, trying to hold everything in.
"We're done here. I was just leaving."
Bobby held the door wide open for her, and Olivia walked never feeling so small and destroyed. In many ways, this felt worse than killing someone. She betrayed a friend. Olivia turned around to look at Lafayette one last time and wished she could apologize for all of it. She didn't want things to end like this. He was the only friend she had in a very, very long time. He was standing on his porch, hands balled into fists.
"If it makes ya feel any better, I thought we was friends too," he said quietly. "But yous used me! You only care for me because of what I can do for yous, not because of who I am."
Her eyes filled with tears, but no words came out of her. Somewhere in all of this, without even realizing it, she became a monster too.
AN: helllooooo everyone
Chapter 67 takes the 2nd place award of 'Hardest Chapter To Write" , only losing to Chapter 59 which took me 2.5 months
This chapter is full of nuance and detail, and it took me a very long time to be happy with it. Anywayyyys I hope you are all doing well!
As always, follow/favourite and LEAVE A COMMENT
kiss on the cheek
xoxo
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