Annika Northman: Part Two

Chapter 9: The Plan

It's warm, suddenly. I never noticed it was cold, because my mind was somewhere far away, but now that it isn't cold I realize that, a second ago, it was. Or maybe that was a full minute ago. I've been in and out of this world since the basement, since Pam, since the magister . . . Keeping track of time has not been important. Sleeping, or something like it, has been important. I'm still tired . . . oh, my head . . .

"Annie?" Cold fingers push hair from my face. "Annika . . ."

I'm on something soft and squishy, but unfamiliar. I make my eyes open, even though they don't want to, and squint against yellow light. The first thing I make out is Eric, sitting on the edge of the second thing I make out, the floral-patterned couch beneath me. I'm on my back, my head on a stiff armrest. "There you are . . ." Eric murmurs when he sees I'm awake, his hand falling from my head to my shoulder.

"We're at Sookie's?" I whisper. It looks different in the glow of the ceiling fan – Sookie is still in Mississippi, I assume, so Eric must have turned on the lights for my benefit, as he has done so many times before – but I recognize the living room, with its layout of antique furniture and its photographs of happy people doing happy things like weddings, and birthday parties, and gardening in the sun.

"We are. It should be safe for you." With that, he pulls up his sleeve, fangs snapping out, and bites himself. I try to push myself up, but that makes my head throb and the room tilt, so I fall back again. "Here, sweetheart." Eric's wrist drips blood from the perfect pair of dots now punched into his skin. "Drink."

I take his arm in my hands – with effort, because everything about me feels heavier than it should be – but just before I bend my head his words from before sink in.

"What do you mean, it should be safe for me?"

"Drink, Annika."

So I put my lips to his wrist and begin gulping down his blood. "Good girl," Eric says, putting his free arm around me, resting his head on mine as the pain jolting through my skull begins to fade.

Vampire blood is salty and smoother than water, but more than that, it's . . . Well, you can feel the power in it, as you're taking it in. You can feel it making you better, making you more, giving you things that– as a human – you are not meant to have. It's power you aren't built for, but you're borrowing it, and, oh, it feels good, so good that it's really no wonder there's such a market for V. It's a wonder there isn't more of one . . .

"That's enough, Annie. That's enough . . ."

For a moment, my grip tightens on his wrist, but I catch myself, control myself, and snap my fingers from his skin, letting my hands fall to my lap. Eric eases his arm away, and I lick my lips and close my eyes, feeling his blood race through me like steel through copper. And Eric continues to hold me. In fact, both of his arms are around me now. It's unlike him, but this hasn't been a normal night. I press my forehead into his chest, letting the moment stretch out.

"Did they do anything to hurt you?" he asks.

"No. Just Pam."

And this is what makes him pull back. He cups my face in his hands. "I am going to get her back. Everything will be alright."

"How?" My headache is a memory, washed away by Eric's blood. The exhaustion that hit me in the dungeon, that pulled me under like a rough current, is no more – and so is the simpler, steadier exhaustion from sleep deprivation, actually. Physically, I feel like I did after I accidentally drank coffee on the plane to Dallas . . . only more so, a lotmore so, and the blood still has places in my body to reach. My thoughts are spinning through my brain like leaves in autumn. "How are you going to get her back?"