Chapter 75: Rockstar

Eric wanted to hurt something. Make it bleed. Tear flesh, feel it squirm as it breaks, pull it apart strand by strand. Make something no more. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the empty dusty parking lot across the street. The neon side was turned off, but the high afternoon sun still let the lettering show: ROSE CROWN Bar and Grill. The bar where werewolves of the Longtooth pack congregated, was closed.

It was truly cosmic luck because if it had been open, Eric was not sure if he had the fortitude not to enter. Every bone in his body wanted to go inside and end it all right then and there. Still, Eric waited. He knew the place served breakfast, so he wondered why today was any different. Standing across the street, he simply observed while Olivia's words festered inside him like an infection. Eric felt glances every once in a while, like raindrops just before the rain. Despite the jean jacket and the trucker hat, Eric looked obviously out of place, catching the attention of passing drivers, dog walkers, teenagers and mothers pushing strollers. Not a lot of 6 foot 4 pale blonds in these parts. He wondered if they could pinpoint his otherness - that he was a vampire out in broad daylight. Centuries of Godric's teachings, mastering the art of controlling one's emotions couldn't prepare him for this. The anger inside was meddling with his perception of the world. The glances slowly became more hostile, like the characters in the matrix noticing the intruder.

To avoid doing something stupid, Eric entered the convenience store in the corner. Maybe a moment of reprise from the heat would make him think more clearly. He walked straight to the back, automatically reaching the fridge handle of whatever cooler held Tru Blood. But he stopped. It had been months since he acquired his daywalking powers, but he still caught himself breaking character sometimes. He couldn't simply buy synthetic blood if he was trying to pass as a human without drawing attention to himself. So he reached for the next door over and grabbed a bottle of diet 7-up and headed to the counter. He wondered if they still put lithium in it.

A teenage girl was working the counter, texting while chewing bubble gum. Her hair was ironed pin straight, root to tip. Her skin was overly suntanned, and she wore so much mascara her eyelashes clumped together like spider legs. He could see her blood pumping just under the surface of her neck. The urge nudged at him. He wanted to break her skin, feel the warmth again between his fingers, but he let it be. She put her phone down when he approached the glass booth, and he tried his best to give a non-intimidating smile.

"I was hoping to grab breakfast somewhere, do you know when the Rose Crown opens?" He asked sweetly. It was a voice he didn't use very often and sounded completely foreign to his own ears.

"Oh," the girl chuckled embarrassed. "It's Sunday, so they don't open til 1. Everyone's at Church."

Well, well, well. Wasn't that an extremely curious piece of information?
The rage and anger he felt turned, like cold dark water into fine bloody wine. Eric had to force himself not to grin. "That many people go to Church?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Have you been to the Rose Crown?"

"Uh, sometimes. Bit of a sketchy crowd though."

He tilted his chin, feeling static. "Oh, they can't be that bad if they go to Church, can they?

The girl blushed, her eyes sparkling under her furry lashes. "I guess."

"You have yourself a good day miss," Eric slid two bills across the counter, and nodded at the girl, holding the edge of his ball cap.

He pushed the door open triggering the doorbell, and was immediately greeted by the hot Louisiana air with lament. It made the 7-up in his hand feel ten times colder. Eric was starting to understand the allure of a cold soda amid his mania.

"Excuse me!" The girl called out. "You gave me a hundred bucks."

Ah, the innocence of the young. She had no idea of the magnitude of the information she had just given him, and who she had given it to. It was just perfect. Too perfect. The end to his werewolf problem would be equal parts dramatic and poetic.

"I pay my informants," he told her with her true smile. Suddenly, she didn't look so cheery anymore. He set a foot outside but then stopped again. "Oh, and word of advice? Don't seek God for the next little while. You may not like what you find."

Olivia was sweaty and tired from turning the club inside out. They looked in every drawer, every cabinet, under every booth, between every couch cushion, inside every electronic she could manage to disassemble. Every nook and cranny of this filthy place was examined (and you better believe, it was filthy). Olivia sent Samuel, her bodyguard, to buy two microphone sensors at a surveillance store and together they tore Fangtasia apart. Several hours later they found a total of 7 bugs. One by one, she tossed them in the garburator, hoping it went out in a very loud bang to whoever was listening on the other side. Two were in the office, one taped underneath Pamela's desk, the other, tucked behind the safe. She also disconnected both their landline phones and threw them straight in the dumpster outback.

Thank God she was smart enough to lock all her laptops and ledgers in the safe every night. That thing was ancient and indestructible, there was no way they could have managed to open it without the passkey. They'd need a proper search warrant to get in it, which gave her enough time to hide the real ledgers, and only leave the decoy ones behind. It was all safe now.

"Did you check downstairs?" Olivia asked.

"Yeah, there was nothing in the cleaning supplies," Sam was also sweaty. He was sitting in one of the booths, with a cold beer she awarded him for his efforts.

Olivia frowned for a second. That… Made no sense. If you learned a vampire mob moss had a torture chamber in the basement, and managed to get a judge to sign a surveillance warrant, why wouldn't you bug the basement? Could Alcide have been so stupid to have just used Ginger's testimony as precedent?

No. No way he'd pass that up.

She looked at Sam again, his plaid shirt rolled over his elbows. He was handsome in a country way. She reached into his mind, but he was just thinking about Football. You'd be surprised by just how much men thought about sports. Or maybe not.

"They bugged everywhere, but the basement?" She asked again, getting him to rethink the task one more time.

"Yeah. Guess they ran out of time or bugs."

She dove into his mind, seeing the dark view of metal racks holding copious amounts of bleach. The hanging light bulb from the ceiling, the stacked kegs in the corner, next to the shop vac and the mops. He didn't know about the actual basement - the separate room behind the secret passage. This meant Samuel, the bodyguard, also didn't know about the secret exit tunnel. A bit of an oversight on Eric's part if you ask her.

"Thanks for your help, Sam. It would have taken me ages to do this by myself."

"No worries," he now was thinking how pretty she was. "You know that your vampire boss could have done this by herself in probably 5 minutes right?"

"I think I'd rather die than just tell Pamela they bugged the place. At least when she comes I'll have good news. Hopefully, she'll let me live."

"I hope she does," he raised his eyebrows in contemplation. "Do you really think we got them all?"

Olivia nodded and let out an exhausted sigh. She would have to check the basement later since there was no upside of showing Sam what was behind that wall. The rest of the afternoon was more comfortable. Samuel went back outside, to keep his post watching the doors until sunset. Olivia got to work in glorious silence, organizing and filing paperwork that she had neglected for far too long. Eric had signed a lot of important documents last night, and she was actually thankful Pamela made him do it.

There was something awful about all of it though, knowing that a stranger had been in this space, touching their things, moving furniture around, installing bugs, invading her privacy. Her work was - ironically - her safe space, and it had been in a way tainted and ruined. Her small slice of peace had been taken away, even if the wiretaps were gone.

Slowly, the dancers arrived for their shifts, as she could hear them trickling down the hallway. Laughter was once again alive in the locker room, even if she didn't recognize some of the voices. Olivia checked her phone. It was almost 8 PM and Pam would arrive soon. There were no texts from Eric, which made her heart heavy in her chest.

Sometimes I wonder if the protection I need is from you. She knew she shouldn't have said that. Even though Eric had chaotic methods, his intentions were always in the right place. The place was twisted, but genuine.

Even though everything was technically normal, nothing really was. You can't unring certain bells. Liv shoved the ledgers in a paperboard carton, knowing she'd have to smuggle them out of the place somehow. All it took was one signed search warrant, and any cop tailing her could catch all the evidence Alcide needed to throw her in jail until the next life.

Next, she sat at her desk and opened her laptop, continuing her work. She never really found her rhythm. There were too many thoughts bouncing in her head, in a loop. The charges, Eric, Pam, Alcide, all of it. And she knew how to end it all too, which was the ugliest thought of all. Olivia had no idea how she would stomach telling Eric her final plan to get them out of this mess. It wasn't so much as a plan, but a decision. Music eventually started playing downstairs, patrons populated the security screens in the back wall. Fangtasia had woken from her slumber.

"When did you get in?" His smooth voice called out from the door.

She quickly turned her head, finding Eric standing in the hallway in his full beautiful glory. There was something different about him, a little quirk at the corner of his lip that made her heart flutter.

"Where the hell were you all day?" She whispered, her heart immediately racing. "Shut the door."

The quirk was gone as quickly as he had arrived. Eric moved slowly towards her, shutting the door behind him. He wore a dark green V-neck and black jeans, and his hair was freshly washed, finger combed back. He hadn't shaved since his coronation, and his blond stubble around his jaw made him look ten times hotter. Her body was practically vibrating, but it had nothing to do with his raw, unrelenting and ultimately annoying sex appeal.

"We've got some major problems," she stood up, already feeling her blood pressure rise.

"I know," his jaw clenched. "About this morning-"

"Fuck this morning!" She hissed, and his brows instantly knitted together.

Olivia didn't mean to dismiss the fight they had this morning - or maybe she did. She was good at many things, but relationships weren't one of them. "Alcide got a wire warrant on us."

Every muscle on his body, from arms to neck tensed up. "How do you know?"

She didn't want to throw poor Ginger under the bus, despite part of her thinking she deserved it. But Olivia knew that she was done dragging more people down with her in this fucking madness she created. If Olivia told the truth, Ginger would be as good as dead. In fact, Alcide was probably counting on it. She knew it was the only way they were going to get out of this.

"I thought you were done asking me that," she deflected. Things were so much easier between them back when he didn't know what she was capable of. Hell, things were so much easier when she didn't know what she was capable of.

He looked at the desk. "Phones?"

"I threw your landlines in the garbage but your cellphones are compromised. I would have texted you, but-" she shook her hands, pointing out the redundancy. "I also found bugs. Seven of them. Sam and I scanned the place top to bottom and I destroyed them," Olivia's hands clenched into a fist, her nails digging into her palm with guilt. The ugly part was up next.

"But it's okay, I found a way out of this."

His eyes were cold, and he sighed heavily. He took a few steps closer and sat at the edge of her desk. Her heart could just burst, afraid that somehow he knew what she had planned. Or perhaps Eric was starting to realize that her way out of things was always deeper into something worse.

"Olivia," he muttered. "For once, can I just-"

"No, no, listen to me Eric," she caressed his jaw with her hand, feeling his stubble on her fingers. "You were right. Alcide has to play your game. We have to discredit him completely if we want to take him out."

She now realized it wasn't only Eric's words that were stuck in her head. It was Alcide's too. You made your bed. Now you are going to lie in it. It was the only way they were going to win. She was going to get everything she wanted, she just knew it. She had to.

He covered her hand with his, keeping her touch for himself. "I don't want you to worry about him anymore, Olivia. I'll take care of it."

The little quirk came back to the up corner of his beautiful lips. Eric dragged her hand to his mouth where he placed cold soft kisses as if that answered all the questions in the world. He opened her palm and kissed half-moons she dug in. She couldn't tell if he could see or feel the raw guilt in her skin. Because see, she would execute the plan whether he agreed to or not.

"Will your way hurt people?" She asked, retracting her hand from his soft embrace.

"No one that matters,"

"Eric-"

"Olivia, you know how this fucking game works."

"I do," her heart rattled in her chest. She knew damn well how this game worked. Kill or be killed. Drown everything. Bury everyone. No mercy. That was Eric's game, and that's the one he wanted Alcide to play. And they were going to, but not at the cost of anyone else. This would end with her. "Because this is what we are going to do."

And she told him.

There was trouble in paradise, which meant it was a night just like any other. Pam was stuck behind the bar since tonight's scheduled bar ender flaked.

"What's fuckin' taking so long? Where's your regular girl?" A fat man in his mid-forties yelled from the barstool. He was an unfortunate regular. "I'm fuckin' parched!"

"Sorry about the delay," Pam said, not sorry at all. "Our regular bartender OD'd in a gay man's apartment at the last minute."

Pam shoved two five-dollar bills in the register from the previous patron, simmering on the man's rudeness. She really thought the title of Sheriff came with a little more gravitas, but here we are. Pam reached for a half-drunk beer abandoned on the counter and slammed it in front of the fat pig. "You want this."

The man's gaze dropped to the dark glass bottle and his mindless brain agreed to the command, taking a gulp of it. It was warm too.

A tall shadow dashed across the club floor coming from the back office hallway, and Eric's presence instantly took over the room. Fucking finally.

"Eric!" She called out over the music.

But the King kept on walking in long strides deeper into the crowd, ignoring her completely. No, serious, what was it going to take?!

"Eric, wait!" A demanding voice called out from the same doorway.

Olivia entered the crowd boldly chasing Eric. It was much different from her usual tip-toeing between tables with a tray in hand. The King immediately turned, seeking her eyes.

Oh. That. That was who was going to take.

"Listen up!" Eric thundered. The music continued to blast overhead, but the voices died down. No one turned heads, as everyone's attention was already glued to her Godly Maker. "Everybody out!"

Eric and Olivia were locked in a deadly stare match in the middle of the club floor as if there were a thousand wars between them. There was unrest all around them, as the fantasy people were dreaming of slowly faded. The party was over.

"Who the fuck are you?" The drunk fat man on the barstool yelled out, still holding onto the warm beer Pam glamoured him to take.

The vampire King opened his mouth and hissed, not only at the man but at everyone. It caused shrieks in the room, everyone stood up at once, followed by disordered shuffling towards the doors. Even Pamela felt a cold tickle in her stomach. From behind the bar, the vampiress turned up the lights and cut the music from the main computer. Soon, the club drained of patrons, vampires and humans alike. The dancers went back upstairs, seemingly to change. The staff, James, Jessica, Felicity and a few others Pam hired recently sat on a booth in the far corner waiting for orders.

Everyone was quiet, watching Olivia and Eric fight through whispers, angry glances exchanging cryptic words no one could really understand. It was unclear who they wanted to kill and who they wanted to save.

"Everything alright?" Pam interrupted loudly.

"Yes," Eric barked, pissed off.

"No," Olivia confronted him.

Now now child, good things don't happen when you defy Eric in front of others.

"Yeah, things are always fuckin' peachy when we close the bar. That's a totally normal fuckin' thing to do," Pam cocked a brow, getting tired of their song and dance.

"Olivia don't," the King ordered through his teeth.

"You know I am right!"

"Bring that up again and you are fucking fired, do you understand?" He roared, his voice ricocheting off the walls like a bomb had gone off.

Pam went wide-eyed. What the fuck had Olivia told him to elicit that kind of reaction? The whole staff stared at her, trying to decipher the puzzle that was Olivia Carson. Her face was stoic, jaw hardened as the stubborn bitch she was. But her fists were shaking, and her eyes were glossy, holding back tears. There was something seriously fucking wrong here. Then, she looked down to the floor, seemingly accepting her fate.

Eric turned his back against her, and Pam could have sworn that hurt Olivia more than the yelling. "The feds were here. We were bugged."

There was a record scratch in her brain.

"But I caught them all," Olivia said, but the entire room of vampires had even stood up, approaching the duo.

"How do you know?" James asked.

"I scanned the place top to bottom with a microphone detector," her voice was acidic. She decidedly did not like James. "Then flushed them down the garbage disposal."

"How did you know we were bugged in the first place?" James poked further.

Eric and Pam exchange glances. They knew how she knew things, but who did she know it from? She was watched 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. They knew everyone she even looked at, let alone spoke to.

"It doesn't matter. I also threw out the landlines, but I suggest everyone throw out their cell phones as well. Get burner phones, and all communications are to be done in person, indoors."

"Man, that is so fucking annoying!" Jessica whined.

"Be thankful they haven't arrested you for conspiring to fucking murder last night," Olivia bit back.

Wait, that was a good point. They could have thrown all of them into a cell for another 24 hours. If they are biding their time like this, they want something big. Something they can't escape from. "What were the grounds, exactly? Your charges?"

She shook her head. "The basement. They are trying to get Eric for murder."

"What's in the basement?" Jessica asked.

"Do you want to find out?" Pamela yelled, annoyed at the baby vampire and her incessant questions. "Then shut the fuck up for a minute and let me think."

Burner phones were easy to find, but they would have to change locations where they were purchased. Cash only. But these places often had cameras. They could get their day human staff to make the purchases. Not having a phone in the Fangtasia office would be annoying, especially when so many vampires can't use fucking e-mail. It still begs the question: there was a leak in this ship. Who?

"Do you think she's right?" Eric asked her in Norse, their secret language.

"Dead people don't talk, Eric. No one comes out of that place alive, you know that."

"Lafayette did."

Olivia followed the conversation with her eyes, and she recognized their dealer's name. Still, she said nothing.

"He doesn't remember a fucking thing, I glamoured him myself."

"What the hell are they saying?" Jessica cried.

James rolled his eyes. "Have you tried shutting the fuck up? I heard it helps, red."

"The collector?"

Eric's lips turned into a fine line at the question.

Oh shit.

AN: HELLO HELLO

Intrigue, secrets, schemes, oh my! We are racing straight to rock bottom folks, HOLD ON TIGHT! Thanks again for all my lovely readers who have been with me for literal years at this point, and for being so patient and supportive. You guys make my day, honestly.

XOXO til next month!

Spice