Warnings: light smut in the opening scene (inspired by Megan Thee Stallion's Eat It), more swearing than normal, significant substance abuse and eventual overdose (although that part will play out more next chapter). But to be clear, there will be NO main character deaths in this fic. This is just Grace's true rock bottom and model behavior for what NOT to do. Seriously, please don't do it. If you choose to do substances, please be safe. Happy to provide resources if you need them.
Song lyrics: Creep by Radiohead
Grace threw her head back in delight and let out a dark, lascivious giggle. She was sitting on the hood of her new car in the woods somewhere with a man's head buried between her legs; it felt good.
She'd picked him up at a bar in the middle of the day and the original plan was to drive back to her place for some uninterrupted playtime. Grace didn't care that granting a random human access to her residence would likely ring the Sheriff's alarm bells, but on the way, she decided that letting him in was a bad idea for a different reason. The singer would just discard him when she'd gotten her fill, it wasn't worth the trouble to have him know where she lived. She certainly didn't want to see him again. And so, Grace turned down a few streets from her house, snaked through the surrounding residences to get a little lost and parked the car on the side of a quiet road, surrounded by trees. If a neighbor or her tail found them, fuck it. Her partner didn't seem to mind the public display and got on his knees as soon as Grace demanded it. At least they weren't facing the road, she figured.
The man (she didn't remember his name nor did it matter) flicked his tongue and delved into her folds, causing her to purr with satisfaction. She raked her nails through his curly dark hair and licked her lips as she watched him eagerly complete his task. He slipped in a finger and Grace moaned without abandon. She flopped back onto the car and saw a white light of pleasure across her field of vision as she moved to give him a better angle.
"More," she growled.
He slid in another finger and continued to lap up her wetness; he didn't know exactly what she liked, but he listened to her commands and his work was getting her closer to her reward. Grace kept her eyes closed to isolate her senses and dive deeper into her pleasure and a wicked smile burst across her face as she spread her arms over the entire hood and put a leg on his shoulder. She could feel her partner getting out of breath but didn't let it stop her from getting what she wanted; Grace would make him eat it until she was good and ready. She liked getting off in the middle of the woods, it felt natural and so very right.
The artist held off for as long as she could, but when she directed the man to put a third finger in while licking her precious pearl, his movements put her over the edge. Grace's hips buckled as she cried out and finished with a burst … but although it was intense and glorious, it was nothing like her climax with Eric. She'd been chasing the feeling ever since that fateful night and had so far come up short. Being on drugs had brought her close, but her orgasm didn't feel real. Not like it had with him.
The comparison immediately put Grace in a bad mood. Her eyes narrowed. She glowered, sat up and tugged her skirt down after she closed her legs.
"Wipe your face and get in the car. We're done."
"What?" her partner said incredulously, in the middle of standing and unbuckling his belt. "You said head was non-negotiable -"
"For me. I never said anything about you," Grace replied, rolling her eyes. She'd made the right choice not to bring him home; she was already over this guy.
"You bitch."
"Ok fuuuuuuuck you, dude," she retorted with a middle finger. Grace then slid off the car's hood, didn't bother to adjust her outfit any further (her thong was somewhere on the ground and she wasn't about to grab it) and hopped in the front seat. The man stared at her, not believing that she wasn't going to reciprocate. She turned on the engine and honked her horn to tell him she was serious. "Let's go asshole! I'm dropping you back at the bar."
"I'm not leaving until I get my share," he growled.
"Well … goodbye then! Cuz I'm not givin' it to ya," Grace laughed. "You're not in a place to make demands, you forget I'm the one with the car."
With that, she felt no remorse as she threw the Corvette into reverse. The man started yelling at her to come back, but she quickly put it in drive and accelerated down the quiet neighborhood road back to her house. He soon became a tiny thing in her rearview mirror and Grace shouted with glee as she put pedal to the metal.
She loved her new ride. The Porsche had given her a taste of the sports car life, so naturally when she ruined it, she had to get a better one. This time American made, something about their gluttonous engine sizes made her unbelievably happy. Thankfully, the local Chevy dealership had one unit of the most expensive Corvette model as a floor display. It was silver (not her favorite color) but available immediately, so she'd traded in her beat-up Prius and purchased it. And the price tag was so worth the adrenaline rush it gave her. Now that Grace had powers, she told herself she didn't need to save because money wasn't that big of a worry anymore. While Fangtasia paid her well, she knew she could charm someone else to give her just as nice of a contract … for the rest of her life. Maybe she didn't even need to work at all, she could just get some loser to hand over all his money. What a dream that would be.
Grace finally pulled up to her residence and yawned while opening the security gate. She had to be at band practice somewhat soon but was spent from staying up late and trolling for some easy dick during the day. Her stomach felt queasy; there was a constant, pestering sting in her head. And so, Grace decided to nap before being on point again. She put the car in park and didn't bother to close the driver's side door before she strolled into the house and kicked her shoes off into the living room.
Grace watched one of her Converse land near the sliding door to the backyard and almost cheered at how far it had gone … but stopped herself when she saw Bert standing just outside. He frantically mewed to get her attention, yet she scowled in return. She hadn't been in contact with her ancestor since her last trip to the river beneath the river. This wasn't the first time her animal had shown up after the incident at Eric's nest, but Grace still had no intention of reconnecting with her.
"Fuck off," she muttered. The cat got up on his hind legs and put his paws against the glass. He meowed louder and it made her angry. She whipped around to face him. "Oh no you don't! You said I needed to go at this shit alone, so that's what I'm doing. Only following your fucking orders, ma'am! If you don't like it, then you should have given me better instructions."
It was the wrong move, however. Because Grace did need help, she was spiraling in agony and grasping at anything that could get her mind off her suffering, especially if it was dangerous. She should have slowed down and processed her grief, but instead, the artist fell face first into bed and ignored it.
Her mind kept buzzing even though her body felt heavy and tired. It was a common occurrence these days, thanks to the drugs. And she decided the best way to get through it was to do more drugs; she tossed and turned a few times before opening her nightstand to look through her stash for something to help. As the sun inched closer to the horizon line, Grace snorted a little bit of this and ate a little bit of that to knock her out. It worked better than anticipated. The singer quickly drifted into a dreamless sleep, and since she hadn't set an alarm, she stayed in bed way past sunset. Grace only woke up because she felt something shoving her.
"Hey!" The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite recognize it in her altered state. "Get up!"
She mumbled something resembling an excuse and rolled onto her other side. She wasn't ready to move yet; her bed felt so nice and the gnawing pain in her stomach hadn't improved. But she was met with another rough push.
"Darlin', you are testing my patience. I said, get up."
"No," Grace sighed with her eyes still closed. "It's not dark yet."
"Oh yeah, then how am I standing here without dying? Explain that to me."
She opened one eye to investigate and found Louis standing beside her bed with his hands on his hips. His apparent anger ignited her fury again like a strong wind blowing over a smoldering brush fire that the fire department thought they'd put out. Grace's irritation and contempt were on full display as she finally pushed herself up to face him.
"Fine, you win. It's dark, I'll start to get ready. Happy?"
"Practice is over, Grace. It's four in the morning. You slept through the whole damn thing."
She paused and grimaced a little. She did feel bad about missing the session. The singer looked forward to the moments when she could use her pipes and settle into bliss … and the band felt like a little family she desperately needed. Louis grumbled obscenities under his breath, looked away and ran a hand through his locks. He shifted his stance and sighed. Grace didn't like it.
"You got something to say?" she dared.
"Yeah, you know what? I do. I've held my tongue for weeks," Louis finally burst. "Girl, what is you doing? I warned you, yet here you are, fucking up our thing."
"Did I not bring the house down last show?" she said, applying more pressure.
"You were high as a kite. Don't think I didn't see it. I don't like it."
"So what? I got the job done, doesn't matter."
"It does matter! You're not a one-woman act, we're a band and you disrespect us when you don't show up to practice. You disrespect us when you put our show at risk because of your bad decisions." Louis was approaching an anger level Grace had never seen before. "I won't let them close us down over you. This cabaret means more to me than just taking care of my people on stage. It's a chance to actually do something with my platform and help vampires like me who are getting maimed and killed by the fucking police. Something you wouldn't know anything about."
"You know I can easily pick up anything you throw at me. I don't need to practice. And I help get asses in seats to even hear your message. People love me, that's all that matters. I can be as high as I want," Grace rebutted. Louis' eye twitched.
"Do you ever care about anything other than their approval? Like I dunno, your life?"
"That's rich, coming from a vampire."
His fangs immediately dropped with a snick! and using his supernatural speed, the band leader ripped her out of bed, shoved her against the wall and held her there with a hand against her chest before she could react. He wasn't as violent as Eric had been, but it was the first time he'd shown his dominance and reminded her that he was indeed a vampire who could drain and kill her if he wanted to.
"That's right. I am one. And I can tell you, your shit ain't new. I've seen it happen too many times, musicians have been getting high forever. It's the same damn thing. Those little rappers who think they're so cool with their lean now? I can tell you from experience that Houston blues boys were doing basically the same concept in the 50s. So your shit ain't new. You're not special. You're just weak."
Grace's power took offense and crackled underneath her skin.
"Fuck you," Grace spat. "You're the weak one. You made a deal with the devil just to get your real start in the business."
She struck a deep nerve. Louis' expression hardened, his jaw clenching. His brows lowered and his stare told her he wanted to absolutely throttle her.
"I am so close to kickin' you out of the show," he growled. "Keep this up and I'll do it."
"You don't have the authority to," she laughed in his face. "You don't hold my goddamn contract."
"I'll just have to talk to the man who does. I owe him a report anyway."
Grace froze; unlike before, her anger evaporated at the thought of Eric. Being back in this house and against a wall with a vampire this close made her relive their night together and despite all her efforts to forget it ever happened, her body shivered at the memory. It still greatly desired Eric whether she liked it or not. Louis noticed her apprehension and his lips curled into a sinister smirk, knowing he'd gotten to her.
The band leader released her with one last small shove and zipped out of the room, leaving her alone again. Grace didn't know if he would follow through with his threat and for the first time since her spirit evolved, she was terrified. She couldn't stomach being dropped - not by Louis, the one person she had left who cared about her, the real her - and the artist wasn't sure she could survive being rebuffed by both him and Eric if it really happened. There weren't any drugs strong enough to deal with that.
Grace started to shake and eventually, her legs gave way, forcing her to her knees. Her confidence was gone. She released panicked breaths and tears prickled her eyes as her mind contemplated her options … and that's when a dire idea emerged. She could pull the rip cord herself. She couldn't be rejected if she walked away first.
Because fuck this. All of this, everything that got her to this moment. Fuck Johnny for sending her to fucking Shreveport of all places, fuck Pam for hiring her, fuck Louis for making her a star, fuck Eric for being so unavailable yet oh so delicious. Fuck the cabaret for being perfect in every way, fuck Fangtasia for feeling like home. And fuck Eric again for being the love of her life that she couldn't have.
Her idea quickly grew legs. The sun was about to be up, she could leave immediately and get the hell out of Shreveport before Louis could come back and give her the bad news. She still felt kinda shitty but was well-rested enough to make it a good distance. Yeah, this was sounding good. It wouldn't take long to pack because she didn't need to take a lot of stuff, the house was Eric's anyway. She could fit all her belongings into the Corvette and access her cash from anywhere since it was all in a bank account. So where should she go?
Grace pulled up a map on her phone. Hmmm, she pondered, what was within driving distance - should she go to Memphis, Jackson, New Orleans or Houston? She grimaced. No, she needed to get the fuck out of the South. The artist was tired of the upfront sweetness and charm, followed by gossiping behind people's backs. She zoomed out even further and looked at the entire United States. The map only listed the major cities at this level of detail and Grace smiled when her eyes landed on California where there was a high concentration of them.
A romanticized plan quickly formulated in her head. What if she followed the old Route 66 and reached the Pacific with some notable detours? It had been a while since she'd gone to Las Vegas and it sounded sinful and alluring; a place where she could make a lot of money. The woman plugged in the directions from Shreveport to Los Angeles and added a few alterations, starting by cutting through the desert towards Amarillo rather than hiking up to Oklahoma City and joining the major highway from there. The unofficial Texas speeding norms were more up her alley and would allow her to really open the Corvette's engine up.
She closed the map, feeling determined now that she had a destination. Grace manically gathered up all her stuff for a few hours; there were definitely more things she could have taken, but after a while, she just needed to leave to give herself as much daylight as possible. She'd taken too long rolling some blunts for the drive. But there was one problem she needed to overcome before she could really be free: her tail.
He was sitting just outside the security gate, smoking a cigarette while he waited for her to potentially leave during the day. She didn't know his name, but she recognized the guy as one of the new day men taking up shifts. He watched her load up the Corvette with her things and turned on his black sedan, ready to follow her wherever she went. But of course, Grace couldn't let that happen. She considered how she might distract him but couldn't figure out something clever enough that would actually work.
Unless …
Grace smirked. She could use her power. It was risky since she hadn't directed it on another person since leveling up. Even during the last show, her magical intention was to forget Eric was even there and it worked out gloriously alongside her new drug of choice. She'd never tried influencing someone without music behind her either. She didn't know what would happen. But risks were her favorite things these days and it was worth a shot. Maybe she could pretend she was a vampire trying to glamour someone but using her voice instead.
"Hello there," Grace greeted, cozying up to the side of his car. The woman motioned for him to put his window down, leaned over and put her face at his eye level. Then she sang her next words in a malicious melody. "You don't know whoooooooo I am and you have nooooooo desire to follow meeeeee."
It took a couple of seconds, but the man blinked. His face scrunched up in confusion.
"Who are you?"
Grace's face lit up in triumph.
"Oh, that's fun," she purred.
But while rewarding for her, it was decidedly not for her target. Because Grace wasn't ready for this new skill, she had rushed in too hard and fast without the proper mindset or setting for a beginner. She didn't listen to her ancestor's words of caution about building up herself enough first and the drugs certainly didn't help either. As a result, her order went a little too far. The man forgot much more than who she was and why he was supposed to be around her.
"Where am I? What am I doing here? Who am I?"
"Whoops. Maybe needs more practice," Grace remarked. Her lips burst into an evil grin. "But exciting."
She walked away from the car, not caring about the man's mental health; she'd snapped the last remaining thread keeping her here. It filled her with exhilaration. Grace got in the Corvette, pulled out her iPod and connected it to the car stereo. She hummed to herself as she looked through her library to find the perfect road trip soundtrack and eventually landed on the Doors. She pressed play and backed out of the driveway for presumably the last time.
Grace lit up a blunt once 'Peace Frog' came blasting through the speakers; it felt right to listen to Jim Morrison sing about blood in the streets up to his thighs. Fit her current mood, really. It was early enough that not many people were out to witness her breaking the law without a guilty conscience, but she kept to the side roads to avoid any run-ins with the cops and crossed state lines while driving under the influence. The Corvette proved to be a useful purchase and it was a dream to drive.
But it used more gas than she was used to and Grace had to stop fairly often to fill up, slowing her down. Yet, it didn't matter. She was thrilled to be out on the open road again and the cannabis was lifting her spirits. Once she skirted around Dallas and stopped for lunch, the singer turned on some techno to power through the rest of the afternoon and get as far as she could. Grace wanted to push it to Amarillo, but soon, the sun began to set and she got hungry enough to start thinking about dinner. The road signs told her she could stop at the upcoming town for gas, food and lodging but the next opportunity wouldn't be for a long time. She was starting to get to the sparser parts of the Texas panhandle.
Grace sighed and decided to park it for the evening; she wouldn't reach her goal, but it was enough of a trek. She stopped for some fast food, and finding a motel was easy enough since there was only one in town. She booked a room - receiving an uneasy stare from the woman behind the counter when she saw her fancy ride - and unloaded the essentials after swiping her key card to open it. The rest could stay in the car. If it got stolen, well fuck it.
She felt reborn after taking a shower, yet when Grace stepped back into the dingy motel bedroom, reality started to set in now that her anger and adrenaline had washed away. Her skin wanted to be covered in water again, it didn't like being in the middle of the barren, dry desert. Her vision became hazy and the bed looked so distant. Where was she? And what the hell was she even doing? A part of her screamed bloody murder and scratched and clawed against her newly found will because it didn't want to leave Shreveport. Mainly, it didn't want to be away from Eric. Her body ached for his touch and she felt like she was suffocating with a huge weight on her chest. It was too excruciating and harrowing to be this far away from her other half, even if he didn't want her.
She almost lost it then and there, but thankfully, she had a cure for this type of thing. A physical and emotional painkiller. Like a regular Hunter S. Thompson, the singer got up and pulled out her bag of various illegal tricks to boost her mood. She found the powder she was looking for, dug her drug spoon into the glass container and took a snort of heroin. The thing she'd made Ricky overnight and her new, dangerous obsession. Grace immediately felt a rush of warmth flow throughout her body and sat back on the bed to absorb it. She'd scratched a deep itch and a lazy, intoxicated smile appeared on her face. All was right with the world again. This town would be her little paradise for the evening and then she'd continue on her way to the West Coast. Easy peasy.
Grace became immersed in the present and despite the fact that the desert got pretty cold at night in late January, she threw on a pair of cut-off jean shorts, some fishnets, a baggy shirt and a leather jacket. She completed the outfit with dark red lipstick and a pair of Doc Martins and wandered out of her room in search of some trouble after getting her purse together. Her new warmth carried her down the street to the nearest bar (of course) and every breath felt like an explosion of pleasure. Her dark giggle returned when a man opened the door for her and she stepped inside; the small town watering hole was sparsely populated with locals up for a little something on a Wednesday, just like her. Grace's hips started to buzz and prickle as they swished towards the nearest bar stool.
"What can I get ya?" the female bartender asked.
"A beer would be lovely, any brand will do." Whiskey could wait since she was high enough for now. She just needed to sip on something.
"You got it. Coming right up."
Grace sighed indulgently as her eyes wandered around the room. She noticed a few people staring at her since she was obviously an out of towner, but didn't mind. She wasn't in their same universe anymore so they could stare all they wanted.
"One Shiner Bock," the woman said, plopping a cold bottle in front of her. "You want to open a tab?"
"Sure," Grace answered. "So tell me, what's there to do for fun around here? I'm just passing through, but I want a good time."
"You're in the right place," her server chuckled. "This is about the only social spot in town, but not much is happening tonight. Too bad you're not here tomorrow, it's trivia night. Sundays are for karaoke."
Grace's expression perked up at the thought of singing. She felt a pleasuring, slow vibration fan out across her skin and reached into her wallet for a bribe.
"Any way we can fire up the machine tonight?" Fangtasia's star asked, batting her eyelashes and slipping a hundred dollar bill onto the bar. "I'd be mighty grateful."
The bartender's eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Well shit lady, for that kind of money, sure." The woman cupped her hands against her mouth to amplify her next words so the rest of the bar could hear. "Alright y'all, it's karaoke time! Step right up!"
"Why?" some asshole retorted. "I didn't come here for that."
"Don't be such a dick," the bartender scowled. But there was no way this guy could get to Grace with the mood she was in.
"What if I bought the entire bar a round, would you indulge me?" Grace winked. He grumbled some misgivings but eventually nodded, telling her that was acceptable. The singer smirked and turned back to the server. "Put their orders on my tab. I'll go figure out how to set it up myself."
While the rest of the locals wandered up to the bar to get their free drink, Grace strutted to the little stage in the corner, loving how her leg muscles pleasantly stretched and contracted as she moved them. Surprisingly, the machine had a lot of options and Grace pursued the rock catalog, feeling called to it after listening to the Doors earlier. She squealed when one of her favorite artists during her teenage years popped up on the screen.
"No way. Fuck yeah, whatever this town is. I did not expect you to have Radiohead. Ok then." She set her magical intention for the performance, which was yet another risk in her current state. She wanted to extend it to everyone, not just herself. "Let's get weird."
She pressed a few buttons and the karaoke track began with a slow melody. The guitar sounded tinny and much less punk rock than the real version, but it didn't take much to make Grace happy right then. She felt enlightened; even though stressors surrounded her, she floated through the world without a care. Yet the lyrics she would sing revealed the heartbreak and misery lingering underneath the drugs. They were still there despite the chemical distraction.
Regardless, everyone in the bar perked up when she began to sing. They were drawn to Grace just like the crowd at Fangtasia, even though the setup was much more janky and the acoustics didn't do her justice. She launched into the first chorus and the energy picked up as the guitar got louder, creating out of control and devilish tremors throughout the room. People started to get a little crazy; they jostled in their seats and downed their drinks. Her magic was going awry, just like it had with her tail back in Louisiana.
Grace, meanwhile, closed her eyes and felt euphoric, warm and relaxed. She carried on into the next part of the song, not caring about the chaos forming around her.
I don't care if it hurts
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice
When I'm not around
So fuckin' special
I wish I was special
The guitar started again; her haunting voice slithered into the crowd's ears and urged them to continue. They responded eagerly.
But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doin' here?
I don't belong here
Her unfocused, electric energy pulsated without restraint and Grace dangerously whipped up the crowd into more of a frenzy for the rest of the song. She cackled into the microphone when the track ended and the locals burst into cheers and screams to shower her with attention. The dissenter even jumped up on stage and pushed her off, wanting to sing himself. But Grace didn't stop him. She listlessly stumbled back to the bar and absorbed the new high from her performance alongside the dope. Many different forms of raw pleasure invaded her nervous system to the point where she fell over from the sheer intensity of it.
Grace finally sat down to gather her wits and slowly sipped her beer. The bartender from earlier was clamoring to get in line to sing with the machine and she chuckled. Maybe she could grab that hundred back and save it for the next town … but it seemed gone. Not a problem though, she still had tons of money left. For now, it was time to party. Grace smirked, grabbed a Coors Light promotional cowboy hat lying a few chairs down from her and put it on her head with a soft, lazy 'Yeehaw!' that no one else heard.
Because the locals were in their own charged heads; they continued to wreak havoc as they drank, sang, made out and in one case, threw some furniture. Grace floated through the crowd - playfully dancing with herself as she rounded each table - and it felt good not to think so much. The singer eventually sat in a booth and snorted another bump off her spoon to continue the adventure. She didn't hide it; she knew no one would notice since they were all obsessed with themselves. Her blissful apathy skyrocketed and Grace sighed luxuriously as she closed her eyes and melted into the cushions after kicking her feet up. She imagined this is what good sex on the beach felt like … immense pleasure surrounded by total warmth.
She didn't know how much time passed, but suddenly, her body jolted awake. The artist's skin prickled with anticipation and excitement - not from the drugs, but because of a familiar darkness that washed over her. Grace softly gasped at the sensation and almost climaxed on the spot. It felt just like him, where did that come from? She wanted more of it. Her head lolled to the side to scan the room and to her surprise, she locked eyes with the vampire in question. Eric was there in the flesh, standing at the bar's entrance next to a Latin woman who looked rather horrified as she absorbed what she'd walked into. The Viking, on the other hand, looked exceptionally angry with tunnel vision just for her. Yet Grace wasn't scared. Nothing could shake her right then, not even him.
"Welcome!" she grinned, casually throwing her hands in the air. The Coors Light hat fell off her head in the process. "We're having a little shindig, won't you join us?"
The woman's eyes flitted around, taking stock of how crazy the locals behaved without acknowledging them. In a flash, Eric appeared beside Grace and held her face in his hands so she had to look at him. His eyes mesmerized her and her brain turned into even more mush.
"I am taking you back to Shreveport. You will not fight me. You will do as I say."
"Sure," Grace nodded, unaware he was controlling her. It wasn't that different from her high. "Sounds great."
"Have her clean this up while you're at it," his companion remarked, crossing her hands over her chest.
"She'll only make it worse," Eric muttered darkly. "Glamour them to calm down and ensure they don't remember her."
"Mierda! This is more than a small favor now. You're asking me for a cover-up, all over your little star."
"I'm quite aware of that."
"If only Godric could see you now." Grace didn't notice Eric flinch, she was still in la la land. "I still have to report it, but I'll muddy the details. You owe me, Northman."
He paused. "You can have Vincenzo back if you wish."
"Oh, you're going to need him. You've got your hands full with this one, I'll think of a better payment." The woman sighed. "Get a day man to drive her stuff back tomorrow and I'll make sure nothing happens to it until then. Can you make it home in time?"
"Only one fucking way to find out," Eric growled. He forcefully took Grace's arm and dragged her out of the booth towards the door; the singer had no qualms, happily following behind like nothing was wrong. But his companion stopped him before they hit the street.
"Get her some pants, she'll freeze to death otherwise."
She heard Eric forcefully grunt in annoyance before he whizzed across the room, forced a local to hand over his sweatpants and demanded that Grace wear them. She obediently put them on over her outfit and Eric didn't waste any more time. He swiftly charged out of the bar, putting his arms around her before he launched into the sky toward Shreveport.
The artist had already felt like she was flying while sitting at the booth, so the abrupt scenery change didn't hit her initially. Instead, Grace's soul rejoiced at Eric's proximity and her love for him burst forth. She snuggled into his embrace, inhaling his scent and feeling home again as she briefly fell asleep. Nothing else mattered; she wanted to stay there against him forever. But the relaxation and warmth from her earlier high only lasted for so long. Grace began to shiver and sobered up as they passed through the clouds and got closer to the Louisiana border. Eric's icy exterior only made it worse. Her body involuntarily thrashed against him even though her mind still didn't want to fight him due to the glamouring. The Sheriff clamped down to stop her from moving and every breath became a fight.
She almost threw up when they landed back at her residence in Shreveport close to sunrise; her nausea was unbearable. Her skin burst into goosebumps and started to itch. Eric either didn't know how fragile she was or didn't care because he raced into the house and bluntly dropped her onto the living room couch. His spell was broken now that they'd finished the trip and Grace gasped for air. She entered an emotional free fall; withdrawal, disgust, grief and anxiety bounced around in her brain but it was all eventually replaced with a blazing anger and a sense of injustice when she caught Eric's vicious stare. He remained silent but she could suddenly feel his emotions again through their connection. His hostility was loud and clear. He was livid.
But Grace didn't care. Not because she was high or felt drunk on her supernatural power … no, this time it was because when faced with one of her biggest fears, Grace had tried to run but that didn't work. Fighting was her body's only natural response left.
"Fuck. You," she seethed between breaths. "You. Asshole."
The Sheriff didn't even blink; his icy blue shark eyes were cold and unforgiving. Grace willed her strength to return and pushed herself off the couch to stand and appear more dominant. She still felt the effects of her come down but wanted to rip into him for abducting her.
"You had no right to force me back here. No right. Were my actions not clear? I am done." She paused to catch her breath and slowly mimed ripping up a piece of paper. "Consider this me terminating my contract, I no longer work for Fangtasia. You can't make any more money off me."
Grace expected him to blow up since she'd aimed for his weak spot. They only had a transactional relationship, right? Hitting his pockets should rattle him. But Eric remained silent even though his anger was definitely still there and Grace's blood began to boil. She made it her newfound mission to figure out how to get a rise out of him.
"You hear that? You don't control me. I do what I want." The more he failed to react, the more she wanted to hurt him like he'd hurt her. "I'll go to the King and see if he can use me. And if he doesn't, maybe I'll find a new monarch to entertain. I was heading out to LA after all."
Still nothing, surprising Grace since Bill had set him off before. Her brows furrowed.
"You got anything to fucking say? Anything at all?"
Eric's mask was as firm as ever but she felt his rage and bloodlust grow exponentially through their connection; she stumbled backwards from the sheer force of his emotions. Grace paused, put a hand on the couch to steady herself amidst the nausea, grit her teeth and willed herself to stop her frustrated tears from falling. She was transported back to their last big argument and yet again, the shithead couldn't communicate and use his words to truly say how he felt, could he?
"You're such a fucking brute. And I'm such a fucking idiot for loving you," slipped out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
But her barb finally took hold. His jaw clenched slightly and something remorseful flickered within their tie, which is how she knew she'd hit the target. Bingo. Grace breezed past her own heartache and chose a path of mutual destruction by twisting the knife further.
"You hate it, don't you? That I love you. You like it when your prey doesn't want it. Then it's a challenge and the hunt makes it fun and interesting. Was it like that with Sookie, since she was Bill's?" His anger started to recede but she kept going. "It was never a chase with me though. No, I wanted you from the moment I saw you and I fucking made your head turn to look at me that first show. I love you, Eric Northman and I don't know if I'll ever stop. But I guess being too easy and direct isn't your thing. Duly fucking noted."
Grace experienced another little flicker before static and white noise blasted her through their connection. Eric's Sheriff persona slowly emerged and a nasty smirk swept across his face. A stream of blood dripped down his ear now that the sun was rising, making him look positively maniacal.
"You done, sweetheart?"
He stepped towards her and she moved back, keeping the distance between them. He had the same glint in his eye from when he punished Dallas.
"I'm afraid we're way past your contract, Miss Williams. Your little stunt today violated the laws of both Area 5 and Area 9, making it well within my right to torture and dispose of you. But lucky for you, we don't have time to get into that this evening." Suddenly, he zipped over and held her cheeks in his hands again. Her face relaxed so much she almost drooled. "You will not leave this house until I return to finish what you started. And you will know that I've glamoured you to stay."
Eric waited momentarily for Grace to absorb his command and patted her face like he was reprimanding a naughty child when the singer came to. He swiftly ran out of the house (presumably to go to ground back at his nest), leaving her in such a state of shock and anger that she began shouting random swear words at the top of her lungs in his general direction.
Because she was now officially trapped. And he wanted her to know it.
She eventually subsided and her weak, human side wanted to crumble into a ball and cry forever. She felt so broken and full of regret. But Grace wouldn't let herself fall into her despair because she knew she might never return from it. Not fully sane anyways. Instead, as the sun rose into the sky, she went back to her destructive pattern and pulled out her favorite powder from her purse. She didn't have the rest of her essentials but she did have her painkiller and that would be enough to make her forget her anguish and misery ever existed. Grace poured the rest of her stash onto the living room table, rolled up a dollar bill and railed it all without stopping to make sure all her mistakes that day were a thing of the past.
She was immediately flooded with warmth and a euphoric rush of blood to the head. It was dreamy and incredible … until it wasn't. Because unfortunately, she'd done too much in her attempt to let go. She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but her chest felt tight and her vision started going in and out of focus as she began to overdose. Blood poured out of her nose. Eventually, Grace slumped back onto the couch, fell into a coma with shallow breaths and battled the deadly effects of her chosen poison.
No one would find her until later that evening.
Author's note: Wooooooooof. To be clear, Grace isn't dead. But she's not fully alive either.
I tried to walk a very careful line in this chapter. I initially didn't plan to get this dark … but the 27 Club is a central theme of the story after all and heroin happens to be a common denominator in a lot of their lives at the end (looking at you Jim Morrison). However, I definitely did not want to write a chapter full of needles, so I pulled back a little and went the Pulp Fiction route. I researched on Erowid to make sure things were accurate cuz I sure as hell can't write from experience here as I have with some of Grace's other drug adventures … but yeah. Woooooooooooooooof. I don't love the last paragraph of this chapter but I had to post it eventually.
Again, please know I am not trying to glorify Grace's behavior. If you feel I am, please let me know in a review, but you'll see why I'm reaching this far in the next two chapters. It's time for the big reveal on Grace's supe type ;)
Hugs, thank you for sticking in there. THINGS GET BETTER, I PROMISE!