A few days after Eric's return, I find myself in a situation I am not comfortable with.
Now, please remember - in Dallas, I slept in a hotel filled with vampires. I attended a business meeting with vampires, then a social gathering with way, way more vampires. Not to mention that I live in a nightclub that is run by vampires (who, incidentally, raised me) and which probably brings in at least a dozen vampires every night. And, having lived the life I have, none of that frightened or frightens me. I know vampires. I'm comfortable around them.
But put me in a room with two other human children, and I'm at a loss.
The room is mine. His name is Coby and hers is Lisa. They both seem to be close to my age - maybe a little younger. He is blonde, she is redheaded. He's fascinated by this place, and she's a little curious, but mostly just anxious. And they're both worried about . . . something. Someone. (They're also both barefoot. And their feet are far from clean. But I am trying very, very hard not to worry about that.)
This is all I have gathered – from a little talking, but mostly from reading them – in the two minutes since Eric knocked on my door and told me to be a good hostess to these two while he spoke with someone he called Mr. Merlotte. The Mr. Merlotte in question, a man with grey-brown shaggy hair, looked over Eric's shoulder as Coby pulled his sister into my room, and he opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. Eric left my door open, but I heard his office door close a minute ago. Now Coby walks around the edges of my little room, looking at the pictures on the wall, while his sister stands by the door, holding her elbows.
"You really live here?" Coby has a drawl so thick it almost sounds like he's faking.
"Yes." I'm sitting on the edge of the bed. Sitting. Right. "You can sit down if you would like," I tell Lisa, waving to the table in the corner. She gives the tiniest of smiles and sidesteps over to sit in one of the chairs, half-hiding her face behind its back as she watches her braver brother continue to explore the one patch of personal space I have in the world.
"You don't got no windows," he says.
"Vampires live here. Windows aren't good for vampires."
He points to a print of a winged woman sweeping over a battlefield, sword in hand. "Is that Wonder Woman?"
"That's a valkyrie. They serve the gods. And choose who lives and dies in battle."
"My preacher says there's just one god."
And my guardian says there are none. "Is Mr. Merlotte your dad?" As soon as I ask, a switch is flicked inside of me, and I'm sure he isn't.
"You mean Sam? Our mama works for him." Lisa tilts her head against the chair's back as she speaks to me. "But somethin's gone wrong in her."
"Her eyes went black as raisins." Cody stands on his tiptoes to examine a music box I keep on my dresser.
"Sam's helpin' to fix her," says Lisa, and then, after a pause, "Is Vampire Eric your dad?"
"No. Vampires can't have children – please don't touch that." Coby's hand found its way up to my music box, which I brought with me from Sweden, is inlaid with gold, and may cost more than anything Coby's ever touched before. Plus, it was a birthday gift from Pam. I wait until Coby's hand is safely at his side again, with him sucking his lips in like they might touch something, too, before I continue. "Eric . . . got me when I was a baby."
"You mean like he adopted you?" Lisa asks.
"There's a kid in my class who's adopted," Coby says. "His skin's dark but his mama and daddy are real white. Almost like vampires. Whoa! Is that from a movie?" He moves in close to a picture of a stone castle on a green hill – but he keeps his hands off, so I answer him politely.
"No. That's a castle along the Rhine River – that's in Germany. And . . . no, Eric didn't . . . adopt me, like that. That's not how it is with us." I fold my hands in my lap and straighten, inclining my head. "It's better. Because he treats me more like a grown-up."
"So you ain't got no mama or daddy?" Coby's finally looking at me, his interest in my room apparently gone. Now it looks like I truly am his main source of entertainment.
"Don't ask that, dummy," Lisa hisses. "It ain't good manners."
"I've never needed parents," I say. I asked Eric once, when I was very little – it might be one of my first memories – if I had a father. He said I didn't, but I had an Eric, and that was better. I've always thought that was probably true. "I have a great life. Eric takes care of me. He buys me lots of stuff I want. And I don't have to go to school."
Coby's jaw drops. "Ever?"
I shake my head. "Not even for a day."
"Wow." Coby glances at his sister. "Wish we got to live with vampires."
I look between the two of them. These kids should be my peers. We should have things in common. We should know the same games, like the same movies, have the same friends, want the same things. But . . . school, and bedtimes, and church, and playgrounds, and afternoon picnics, and mamas and daddies . . . That's just never been my life.
My life . . . My life has been darkness. Blood. Violence. Always thinking before I speak. Vitamin D supplements. Comfort from cold hands. Breakfast at nightfall. Reading old books in empty rooms. Long walks through fields beneath a glowing moon. Swedish lullabies. Lovely dolls in lace dresses. Discussions on philosophy. Music through my walls. Mani-pedis. Late-night diners. First-class flights and fancy cars. Magic. Power. Safety. Trust.
Yes, my life has been darkness. And people find darkness so frightening, because you can't tell when bad things are hiding in the dark. But good things can hide in the dark, too.
"Like I said." I smile, just a little. "I have a great life."
The words are barely out of my mouth when I hear a muffled click from outside my room. Eric's office door. He's in my doorway the next second, sweeping the room with his eyes. "Oh, good. You're all alive."
Mr. Merlotte steps around Eric – but keeps his distance. "Coby, Lisa." He waves the kids out of the room. "C'mon. Time to get you back to Bon Temps."
I rise as Lisa and Coby pass Eric. Coby arches his head as far back as it can possibly go to get the best look at my guardian, and only moves along when his sister yanks him by the arm. I stand beside Eric as Mr. Merlotte says, "You got my cell number if you find anything out."
"I'll let you know if I learn anything of use to you."
Eric then looks down the hallway, to where Pam waits beside the door leading out to the bar. She looks at our guests like they're the first signs of a rat infestation. "Can I throw them out now?" she asks Eric in Swedish. "I hate the little ones. They're so stupid."
I'm not sure I want to hear what Pam would say if I pointed out that I am as little as Coby and Lisa are, so I just say, "I don't think they're stupid."
Lisa and Coby both gasp. "You speak Spanish?" Coby says, eyes wide.
Eric looks to the ceiling, smiling like the gods he doesn't believe in have given him a great gift, as Pam gives me a smirk beyond compare.
I sigh. "Never mind."
"Pam will see you out," Eric says, expertly pulling back his amusement. He winks at Coby and Lisa and says, pleasantly, "Goodnight, tiny humans."
Coby just stares at him, head tilted and mouth still open. Lisa grips Mr. Merlotte's hand. "C'mon, kids," the man says, putting a hand on Coby's back to guide him down the hall.
"Bye, Annie!" Coby calls back to me. Eric introduced me using my nickname – some humans get confused with the name Annika. "Hope you keep not havin' to go to school!"
"Bragged about that, did you?" Eric asks as we watch the three humans follow Pam out the door.
"It came up. Who was that man? What did he want?"
"He is Sookie's boss. He wants to know how to kill a monster. Something called a maenad."
I blink. Sookie works in a bar in Bon Temps. I don't know why the owner – or manager, maybe – of a bar would need to know how to kill a monster. Well, assuming that owner or manager wasn't, say, Eric or Pam. "Do you know how to kill it?"
"I might know someone who does. And I will visit her later this evening." He looks down at me. "Come. I have something to give you."
I follow him into his office, wary. It's not like Eric to give me gifts. Oh, he buys me things all the time, or has someone buy them for me, but he usually doesn't go to the trouble of being secretive in any way.
"What did you think of them?" Eric asks, as if the thought just occurred to him. He glances over his shoulder as he moves around his desk, where he settles in his chair. "The human children? With their mundane little lives?" He waves a hand at one of the two chairs in front of his desk, so I sit, hands in my lap. He pops an eyebrow. "Do you think you missed much?"
"I didn't speak to them for very long," I say slowly. "I'm not like them, I know that. And I don't want to be, I suppose." I shrug, look at him, look at the floor, and say, "I'm glad I'm yours."
He doesn't reply right away. I keep my eyes down. I am glad I'm his, and I do want him to know that, but – saying things like that out loud to Eric is sort of like hugging him. It's just not something I'm supposed to do often. I don't know who made that rule or why I know it, but I do.
Finally, he says, "I promised you something." I hear him open a drawer, and I lift my eyes as he slides something across the desk. He takes back his hand to reveal a blue iPod, thinner than Hoyt's, with a screen twice its size. A pair of black earbuds is already wrapped by its wires around the iPod's base. "It's the newest model," Eric says as I pick the device up, trying not to smile too hard. "It can hold more songs than I imagine you have ever heard. I have downloaded some music onto it that I think you will like. You may use my computer later this evening to search for more." He pauses. "Well? Is it as good as Jessica's?"
And my heart drops.
This isn't right.
I reach to set the iPod back on the desk, and then I lower my head. "I can't take it," I whisper to my shoes.
Eric, after a moment, answers in a way I could almost call cautious. "Why not?"
Maybe I could have let things be if he had given me this gift before Godric met the sun. But no – he's giving it to me after. After I saw and felt him hurting worse than I ever thought was possible. After night after night of watching him get back to business, push on with his life, even though the pain, the grief was always right under his calm surface. I never would have believed, a week ago, that I could love Eric more than I did. Respect him more. But after Dallas . . . somehow I do.
And, my God. This is a vampire who lost his maker days ago, but somehow remembered he told me I could have an iPod. And got it for me.
I don't want to be breaking his rules. I don't want to be betraying his trust, not even in some tiny way. He deserves better.
I take a deep breath. Grip the seat beneath me. "I lied to you."
There's a long silence, during which my mouth goes dry.
Eric gives a long, long sigh. "About what?" His voice is too controlled. Like he has to fight the words to make them sound calm. It scares me.
I run my tongue around my mouth once before I speak. "Jessica's boyfriend Hoyt came to see her. That night you left me with her. It was his iPod I listened to, not Jessica's. I stayed in the bathroom while they were together."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Jessica asked me not to." My voice is getting higher. No, no. If Eric can control his voice, I can control mine. "Well, actually, she paid me not to – or, Hoyt did. Jessica thought if you knew, you might tell Bill, and she didn't want him to know."
My hair hangs down around me. The ends are vibrating, because I'm trembling.
This is better. No matter what, this is better than never telling him.
I push forward. "It was – it seemed like such a little thing, so I hid it from you. But I know hiding things is lying. And then I really did lie about whose iPod it was, and I – I'm sorry, Eric, I know you hate being lied to."
"Indeed." And then Eric stands up.
I close my eyes as he walks around the desk, slowly, the sound of each footstep filling up the room. I feel it when he comes to a stop in front of me.
"The last time you lied to me, I dealt with you quite harshly."
My stomach twists. It was just a spanking. It was hardly the worst thing he could have done.
But . . . it sort of seemed like it at the time. I was only six. And it hurt. Once it was over, I lay sobbing on my bed as Eric rubbed my back with a touch so suddenly gentle it was almost ridiculous, and when I finally calmed he said, Believe it or not, little one, I do not like causing you pain. But I also do not like being lied to. Especially by you.
"The reason I was so severe," Eric says in the present, his voice low and nowhere near as kind as it is in that memory, "is because it is extremely important that I never doubt your word. As you grow older, as you grow more powerful, I expect I will be making pivotal decisions based largely, or even solely, on what you tell me. And I must be able to trust you, Annika. Completely."
I force my eyes open. "You can."
"So you say . . . I realize you were quite young. But do you remember what I told you after the last time?"
And now I must make you a very unfortunate promise, sweetheart.
"You said . . ." I take a second to bite my lip, as hard as I can without breaking skin. And it still might break a little. "You said if you caught me in a lie again, you would make that punishment seem like a dream."
Six-year-old Annika started crying again at that. Eric hushed me, said he didn't want that to happen, and it didn't have to.
But I've blown it.
"Precisely," Eric says, almost too softly to hear. "And I meant it."
There's a solid lump rapidly forming in my throat, and I swallow twice and squeeze my fingernails into the chair. I don't want to cry before he even . . . does whatever he's going to do.
It's better this way. It is.
My heart feels like it's too high. My eyes are starting to burn.
"If I caught you," Eric says. "I did not catch you. You are telling me."
He holds out the iPod.
Slowly, slowly, I take it, but as soon as I look down at the thing Eric's finger is on my chin and he's bringing my gaze back to his. His eyes aren't angry. But they're sharp. "Do not do it again," he whispers, and, because he's Eric, he manages to make that one-part threat and one-part compassionate warning.
"I won't."
He holds me there for another second before dropping his hand and starting back around his desk, taking his time. "I will be leaving shortly for my meeting with . . . well, you don't need to know that. I may not be back before you are asleep." He lowers himself into his chair with a sigh. "But tomorrow evening, I expect you to be prepared to have a full discussion on The Republic. The rants you engaged in while you were falling asleep that day at the hotel, while amusing, do not count."
I nod. It's the best I can manage.
He jerks his head toward the door. And that's it. Just like that, everything is fine.
I stand, my new iPod safe between my hands, and walk across the room.
"Annika," Eric says I reach for the doorknob. His eyes are narrowed. "How much did they give you for staying in the bathroom?"
I clear my throat. "Well, they offered me twenty dollars at first. But . . . I bumped it up to thirty."
Eric's smile stretches across his face, bit by bit, until his teeth are showing in a crooked grin. He reaches for a pile of papers on his desk. "That's my girl."
End of Part One