Lucifer parked the speedy little Alfa Romeo in the wide driveway, looking up at the two-story farmhouse. It almost seemed to glow softly in the dark, although Lucifer suspected that had more to do with the fresh paintjob rather than any supernatural reason.
A pristine pale yellow house with dark roof, it had a long porch that wrapped around the right side of the house. An old, beat up, yellow Honda Civic was parked close to the house, clearly the waitress's mode of transportation when she wasn't with her wolf. Lucifer studied the car and house silently—none of this screamed a threat to Lucifer's relationship. Lucifer knew Eric appreciated fine cars and technology. Yet this old house and old car . . . this was what Sookie Stackhouse came with? Granted, the house looked like it had been recently renovated, but it was a far cry from Lucifer's own loft above Lux—and Lucifer knew Eric appreciated all of Lucifer's luxuries.
Truly, his previous relationship would not have worked out without some changes. Right?
Eric was out of the car and hovering on the porch before Lucifer even opened his own door. Taking a hit to his confidence, watching Eric pace the whitewashed boards for Arlene to let him in, Lucifer extricated himself from the Alfa Romeo and slowly wandered up the path and onto the porch. Arlene was the last to join them, walking up the drive from her beat up car that looked like it belonged right next to Sookie's Civic. Did all cars in Bon Temps look like this?
There was relief in knowing Eric would prefer to live in Los Angeles than this little dump of a town. Lucifer would absolutely hate it here, he was sure. There wasn't enough people to promise excitement every single night.
Arlene walked up the steps while digging through her far too large purse. "I know they're in here somewhere," she mumbled to herself, pausing to balance the purse on one knee and shove her arm even further in. Her face screwed up in concentration, her tongue stuck out a bit, and a moment later she hissed a tiny whoop of success. She stood up straight, arm in the air triumphantly with the keys securely in her fist. "Got 'em!"
A moment later the door was unlocked and Arlene had walked over the threshold to turn the lights on. Eric stood just in front of the doorway, blocking Lucifer's entrance and glowering at the redheaded waitress.
"Vampire Eric, I—I just want to thank you," Arlene said, after hesitating a moment. "I know you helped your friend with Terry—helping him forget what makes him hurt. I can't ever repay you for something like that."
"You can start by inviting me in," Eric said, deadpan—which was better than a snarl anyway.
Arlene had a mix of fear and gratefulness shining from her eyes. She didn't instinctively want to trust the vampire before her, but he'd done something for her that no one else could—without any repayment that she could see. Except to let him into her missing friend's house. That knowledge must have finally eased her mind, because she made a grand gesture of invitation with one arm, slightly bowing almost. "Vampire Eric, won't you please come in?"
"Eric is fine," the vampire said as he finally crossed the threshold and into the entryway. Lucifer followed, getting a nearly devoted look from Arlene.
Before Lucifer could even look about the entryway, Eric was gone, running up the stairs to the second floor at vampire speed. Arlene let out a squeak of surprise and then gave an embarrassed giggle. "I'll never get used to vampires, I don't think."
"They're not so bad," Lucifer said. "Not if you get to know them."
"That's what Sookie says, but I don't know if I believe her. How does she know if she's been glamoured or not?"
"Ah, but glamouring came in handy tonight, did it not?" Lucifer pointed out. "Our Viking friend glamoured away all of Terry's pain."
Arlene sighed, looking put out at his logic. "It's true," she admitted. "Perhaps not all of them are monsters."
"Perhaps not," Lucifer agreed, deciding not to remind her that Eric Northman, on occasion, had been a monster. He wasn't now and that's what truly counted.
Lucifer looked around himself, ever curious to know how Sookie lived. The entryway was large enough, although Lucifer wouldn't call it a foyer. Archways to the left and right led to a dining room and a living room respectively. There was a door at the end of the room that led to a powder room, nestled into the alcove created by the staircase. The floors were wood, there was an old, well-loved rug in the centre of the floor, and the walls bore wallpaper that was a few decades past its expiry date. All of the woodwork and trim had recently been painted a perfect white, which really popped the wood floors. A peek into the living room told Lucifer of a woman who was perhaps a bit messy, but seemed to live her life to the fullest.
A stack of magazines on the coffee table, an afghan thrown over the back of the couch. There was a fireplace, and an older TV. The furniture was old and loved, from some decades past, but the flooring looked brand new and the trim here also looked freshly painted. A combination of new and old. Turning to the other room, he found the table and chairs in neat order and a second fireplace taking up the far wall. When on earth did they ever use fireplaces in Louisiana, Lucifer wondered.
The sound of the stairs creaking drew Lucifer's attention upward to watch Eric coming down the stairs at a normal speed, a scowl on his face.
"Find anything?" Lucifer asked, although the look told him everything he needed to know.
Eric shook his head. "She hasn't been home in a while, but everything is as it should be."
Lucifer raised a single eyebrow. He knew precisely how Eric knew what the upstairs should look like. He was familiar with this place. "That makes sense though, right?" Lucifer asked from his spot by the front door. "Didn't our friendly Shi—Sam tell us she was taken from her boyfriend's house?"
Eric nodded mutely before ducking into the living room. Lucifer watched him scan the room, the vampire's shoulders tense. When nothing seemed to satisfy him, he turned on his heel and seemed to look at Lucifer. No, Lucifer realized . . . he was looking at the floor beneath Lucifer's feet.
He looked down but didn't see anything special there. He thought about asking, but the strained look on Eric's face told him that perhaps he didn't want to know. He was suddenly very glad that the psychic connection between the two of them was one-sided. He absolutely did not want to feel the regret and nostalgia that was clearly going through Eric's head—and heart—right now. It would not help his self-esteem. Not at all.
"Right, so if she'd been with Alcide back in Shreveport, then why is her car outside?" Lucifer questioned, remembering the pale yellow Civic.
"Alcide picks her up all the time," Arlene supplied. "I don't blame her for convincing him. Considering the cost of gas, why should she be paying for it on a waitress's salary. She's got herself a fine man with a good job in construction. I'd let him cart me around too, if I could manage it."
Lucifer gave a chuckle at that, but his eyes never left Eric as the vampire came through the entryway and headed into the dining room. Lucifer followed, his eyes on the vampire's back as he strode through the room and into the darkness beyond. Arlene drew up the rear, the only mortal in their little group, turning on the lights as she went.
The kitchen was a sight. Brand new counters and cupboards, but everything that fit in them was, just like everywhere else in the house, old. Family heirlooms. It was confusing a mixture. Lucifer wanted to ask, but didn't know how to do it.
Eric stopped in the middle of the room, turning to study Lucifer. "I owned the house," Eric said, not exactly reading Lucifer's mind but reading his emotions anyway. "She disappeared more than a year ago—Jason thought she'd died. So he decided to make a profit and sell her fucking house." A growl rattled in his throat. "I bought it so when she came back, she'd still have a place to live."
"Bullshit," Arlene said. "You bought it so you'd own her when she came back."
Eric couldn't help but crack a smile at that. "Perhaps. But I'm the only one who knew she'd be back. Tell me you didn't fall into the same assumptions as Jason, Sam, and Bill fucking Compton."
Arlene frowned, not answering his question.
Eric continued though. "And I gave the damn house back, didn't I?"
"Before you fucked her?" Arlene shot back.
Eric sneered, but Lucifer could see the pain in his eyes. He might be acting the big, bad monster for Arlene, but she'd hurt him with that remark.
"Do you honestly think my dear Viking would be here looking for Sookie's apparent kidnapper if he didn't love the woman in some way?" Lucifer asked hotly. He hated the idea that Eric might still love her, but he hated the fact Arlene seemed to think Eric a loveless bastard. That was not the Eric Northman Lucifer knew. And he needed her to know that. "We're looking for your lost friend and you're accusing him of what?"
Arlene threw her hands up in the air, as if giving up. "I'm sorry! I just don't trust vampires. You can't tell me that they don't think about eating us, eating our children! What's stopping them from doing it?"
Lucifer took a breath to reply but realized he really didn't have the answer to that. He wasn't a vampire after all, and aside from Eric, he hadn't gotten to know very many of them.
"Why do humans nearly worship horses?" Eric countered. "They're food for your kind."
"No they're not!" Arlene cried out, looking offended.
"Perhaps not here, in this country, this century," Eric replied. "But they used to be. Can't a vampire have the same emotional response you just had, except for humans?"
"It's different and you know it!" Arlene shot back. "You still feed on humans."
"Not to the point of harm," Eric said. "It's true, we still need to eat. But it can be . . ." Eric trailed off and then his blue eyes focused on Lucifer. "Emotional. I do not hurt those that belong to me."
"So you admit you think Sookie is just one of your belongings," Arlene said.
"Sookie does not belong to me anymore. She told me, in no uncertain terms." Eric frowned. "And I respected that, Arlene."
Which made Lucifer frown. Those invasive thoughts whispered in his head again, and in order to avoid entertaining them, he turned to the fridge and opened it, curious as to what Sookie Stackhouse ate.
Vintage casserole dishes and containers held all kinds of southern goodies. There was a pecan pie with one slice taken out of it, front and centre. A large pitcher of what Lucifer assumed was iced tea was shoved just behind the pie. Sookie Stackhouse, it seemed, knew how to eat. He'd seen her though—she must have an impressive metabolism to keep off all that sugar and oil. That or an insane exercise regimen.
Eric and Arlene were still having their argument about vampires and ownership, and Lucifer felt like a child watching his parents fight. He felt uncomfortable and barring taking out that pie and eating it, he didn't see the point in standing in this kitchen listening to the two of them bicker. The pie did beckon him—gluttony being one of his many favourite sins—but it just wasn't enough.
So instead he edged out of the kitchen and into the back room. A mudroom? Closed in porch? He wasn't entirely sure but there was a lovely wooden armoire in the corner of the room and he gravitated toward it. It was, quite frankly, the nicest piece of furniture in the entire house. He hadn't even gone upstairs with Eric, but he somehow just knew that nothing up there would compare to this. What was inside, he wondered. Probably filled with winter clothes, wasted on a waitress in Bon Temps, Louisiana. No offense to Sookie.
Okay, maybe some.
But it was what was streaked across the front of the armoire that ended up catching Lucifer's attention. He moved close to get a better view and sure enough—there was that same green algae-like substance they'd found in Florence Davis's apartment.
"Bloody hell," he whispered, his gaze going down to see that the handle to open the armoire was covered in it. "Viking!" he called out, his hands itching to open the damn thing. He held back though, knowing Eric was going to want to see this the way he'd found it. It seemed that even though Sookie was taken elsewhere, whoever had taken her had come here first. And whoever that someone was, they were the same people who had stolen Florence's Mark in the night as well.
The two cases were connected.
Lucifer was elated. They hadn't come all the way to Louisiana to find out Sookie had run away from her werewolf boyfriend—she really had been kidnapped by whoever—or whatever—was wandering around with green goop all over their hands. A bona fide supernatural case!
He hoped that Ella was working on her side of things back in Los Angeles—what he'd give to know what this green stuff was. And why it was on the only nice piece of furniture in the entire house.
Eric was suddenly in Lucifer's personal space. He didn't need Lucifer to show him what he'd found. It was clear by his nostrils flaring that he could smell it, just like he had at Florence's apartment. The vampire nearly hissed and he jostled Lucifer out of the way.
The vampire threw the doors of the armoire open before Lucifer could even think to ask, and suddenly disappeared inside.
What the devil?
The devil, indeed, peered into the darkness to find . . . nothing. Eric really had disappeared. Not quite, Lucifer realized, seeing that the inside of the armoire was anything but an armoire. The inside of what had looked like an antique piece of furniture was lined with metal. And there were rungs that led down to a trapdoor in the bottom.
Lights flickered on below and something clicked in Lucifer's mind. A hidey-hole! This was a vampire cubby, a safe space to go to ground during the day.
He stepped into the armoire himself and began to descend the metal rungs, and found himself in a small box made out of concrete blocks, fluorescent lights built not into the ceiling, but all along the walls at about four feet from the floor. There was just enough room for a small cot and a night stand. The cot was made up with black sheets, with a well-loved red quilt folded neatly at the end, and faux-fur pillows stacked against the wall. There was an eclectic pile of books on the nightstand.
It didn't scream home to Lucifer, but it seemed a good emergency landing place for Eric, or any other vampire, should the need arise.
It didn't look like it had been used in a while. Although Lucifer suspected this was where Eric had stayed when he'd lost his memory earlier in the fall. His thoughts were confirmed when Eric's fingers brushed against the red quilt, a far-off look on his face.
Of course, there were other interesting things down here. Well, only the one really. There was a puddle of that green stuff right at the foot of the bed. It was as if whoever had come searching for Sookie had stood there for some time, looking at the little room just like Lucifer was doing. But why here, in Eric's hidey-hole and not say, upstairs in the halfling's bedroom?
Because there clearly hadn't been. Eric would have said something otherwise.
So why had this mysterious interloper stood in a vampire's cubby long enough to drip green gook all over the place?
"I think it's safe to say that Florence's Mark is a halfling," Eric said, his own gaze on that pool of green. "And that someone is stealing them."
"But we're no closer to knowing where they've been taken," Lucifer said. He lingered as Eric went back to the ladder, climbing it quickly to leave Lucifer alone in the hole beneath the house. He looked around a final time, his eyes resting on the red quilt. Sookie had cared for Eric in this room. This was where she'd taught him to embrace his emotions. This was the place where he'd decided he no longer wanted to be a monster.
Lucifer sighed.
He couldn't compete with that.
Lucifer followed Eric up the ladder, heading toward the doorway that led to the living room. Arlene was sitting on the couch, hands clasped on her lap and her large purse at her feet. Eric was prowling, looking anxious and frustrated. None of this had helped and Lucifer felt horrible, knowing all they'd done was confirm a worry and drag Eric through memories Lucifer would just as soon have him leave in his past. Coming to Sookie Stackhouse's house had been a waste of time.
"So what do we do next?" Lucifer asked. "Obviously we'll head to Shreveport, check in with Maze and Pam."
Eric growled and Arlene winced on the couch. Clearly their conversation earlier still hadn't changed her mind about vampires. Despite Eric's helping Terry earlier. Some prejudices just ran too deep, Lucifer thought.
"I'm not done looking," Eric finally said.
"In the house?" Lucifer asked, surprised. "Where else could there be evidence of these mystery . . . people."
"In Bon Temps," Eric amended. He stopped his pacing. "Didn't Sam say something about Hot Shot?"
Arlene made a little peep of noise and both men turned to look at her.
"They're all gone," Arlene said. "The entire lot of them."
"Dead, right?" Lucifer asked. "I believe that's what Sam had said."
Arlene nodded, looking upset. "Best we know, they all got sick with some horrible virus and died." She paused and then leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she decided to divulge in some gossip. "But I think it was drugs."
Eric made a noncommittal sound. "It wouldn't be impossible," he admitted.
Lucifer looked between the two of them. "Well, why don't we go check out Hot Shot. See if the police left any evidence behind." He stopped short and shook his head. "Although if the police in Bon Temps are anything like back in Los Angeles, they'll have a detective that has done their job properly."
Both Eric and Arlene laughed.
"Oh, Sug, he might be family, but Andy is not what you'd call an adept Sheriff. And as of late, what with his girls and all, he's been a bit busy to take his job seriously." Arlene shook her head. Andy, this Sheriff, was clearly a family embarrassment.
"Well, it's settled then. We'll head to Hot Shot and see if it's related to Sookie's disappearance and . . ." Lucifer paused, not sure how to continue.
"And the rotting algae in her basement," Eric finished for him.
Arlene stood from the couch, grabbing her big purse and holding it tight to her chest. "Well, if that's all you needed here, I think I'll just as soon lock up and be on my way."
She stood there, waiting for both men to lead the way back to the front door. Just as they got there, she paused in the archway. "Vampire Eric, I rescind your invitation."
Eric hissed as a magic unknown to Lucifer—and which he hated very much—pulled on him until he threw open the door stumbled out and onto the porch. He spun back around, fangs bared and a snarl on his face. "Did you have to fucking do that?"
"Yes," Arlene shot back, finding courage with him across the threshold. "I'm not letting you have full access to Sookie's place when she's not here to make that decision."
"I'm the one trying to fucking find her!" Eric growled.
"And did coming here help you?" Arlene asked hotly.
The growl that came from Eric told Lucifer that the vampire was about to lose his shit. Lucifer was just about done with the childish animosity between the two of them. What was with this place that seemed to bring out the worst in people? Bon Temps meant good times, but Lucifer was starting to think the opposite happened here.
"Yes, yes. We aren't able to locate your friend," Lucifer soothed as he pushed into Arlene's personal space to force her out onto the porch. "But we've confirmed a theory we had, which sets us on the right track." He pulled the door closed behind him and rocked on his heels in front of it. "I'm sure you need to head back to your family, yes?"
Arlene scowled at him, but didn't make a move to push him aside. "I need to close up the house," she said. "I know he can't go in there, but you can—and even if you've been an angel to me helping Terry, I know you'll do as the vampire asks. So if you'll excuse me, I'll wish you both a good night and let you be on your way."
Lucifer refrained from rolling his eyes, but he stepped away from the door. Arlene disappeared back inside.
Eric flew down the dark steps, heading for the Alfa Romeo and Lucifer followed. But the pale vampire stopped on the drive, looking out into the woods next to the house, heading in the opposite direction than the cemetery. His shoulders slumped and he looked, for just one second, like he might cry.
"What's wrong, Viking?" Lucifer asked, catching up to the vampire.
A silence stretched between them and Lucifer wondered if Eric was thinking about Sookie, worrying about her, wanting her, needing her. Loving her.
The cloudy look on Eric's face disappeared, and he gave Lucifer a smile. "I killed a fairy here," Eric said. "Just a few months ago." His gaze went to Lucifer and then back to the trees. "I had no idea who I was, but the strength I felt from that blood. I took off that way." He gestured. "And then the sun came up . . ." The smile turned wistful. "And for the first time in over a thousand years, I swam in the sunlight. I'll never get to do that again. Not without killing fairies. And where the fuck would I find one, anyway?"
"Not here, I suppose," Lucifer mused.
"They live in some other dimension," Eric told him. "Time flows differently there." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Killing fairies just for a few hours of sunlight isn't sustainable. I'd eat them all eventually—and then no more sun, yet again."
Eric turned and wandered toward the car. A single sentence floated over his shoulder. "I might as well just accept I'll never enjoy the sun again."
It just about broke Lucifer's heart, hearing that.
He would find a way to give Eric the sun, Lucifer decided. The second time in just as many days, having that thought. There had to be a way. He just needed to find it.
After he selflessly brought Sookie Stackhouse home safe and sound, of course.
Lucifer rocked into motion, heading for the car and further into the middle-of-nowhere Louisiana night.