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That's Not My Name	By : marksandspence Category: S through Z > True Blood Views: 6314 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I have not created the True Blood (credit to Charlaine Harris & Alan Ball) or BtVS universes (credit to Joss Whedon) and do not have any claim on the characters other than the ones I have added. I make no money off of these stories.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
Author's note: *just added a short bit of smut, as promised*

Chapter 20
Eric flinches in his sleep, a flash of fear piercing his dream, the prickly brightness of sunlight. By the time he opens his eyes, it is dark. She must have forgotten to close the blind in the kitchen again. He turns over to confirm that she has indeed left the bed. He had once again abandoned the coffin, even the new one he and Pam had shopped for when Peia was away. Loath as he was to admit it, he had grown accustomed to her warmth, her breath, the steady beating of her heart. He found his inability to rest in the coffin disconcerting and vaguely felt the need to discover a way to return to his old ways. Perhaps tomorrow.
Eric was pleased at how well Peia was settling in. In addition to helping at the club, he was pleasantly surprised by her interest and talent in the more physical aspects of the business. For sure, she was not cruel like Pam, but also not as charitable as he would have predicted. She was always careful to voice any objections to his instructions in private. Her steely logic in matters of business and justice were an asset. Most importantly, all of this made him pleased with himself for choosing her, something he always enjoys.
As a lover, she was unemotional, but wildly enthusiastic. He enjoyed the attention she paid to him, the way she seemed to study and explore his body with a long forgotten erotic curiosity. Strange that he had not yet found his eye wandering, a sign of the inevitable boredom. Of course, it has still been merely the blink of an eye. All things in time.
Wednesdays were movie night, if there was no pending business to attend to. Eric, Pam and Peia would sit together in the theatre room. Peia always made popcorn – one of the few food smells that did not disgust the vampires. Too often, the movie would fail to hold their attention and Eric and Peia would make out on the couch, prompting Pam to snark “If I knew it was date night, I would have brought a fucking date. You guys are like a pair of teenagers in heat.” Tonight, the movie was Centurian – one Peia assured they would like due to all the death and dismemberment. Plus Eric hated the Romans, so he was always up for any depiction of their suffering. Peia had picked it because the villains were both women. One of her obsessions.
As the film ends, Peia says “Well I know who I am dressing as on Halloween. I just need a horse, one of those fantastic double-headed axe things, some hair teaser and black smudgy eye make-up.”
“Halloween. Or tomorrow?” Eric says with obvious anticipation.
“Could you go that long without talking?” Pam asks (the villain was mute).
“That would be the best part,” Peia responds.
Suddenly, they hear the doorbell ring. Odd. They all exchange glances.
“Pam?”
“What, it’s your house!” She answers, indignantly.
“I’ve got a woman on me,” he shrugs, pulling Peia onto his lap.
“Damn, I wish I had that excuse,” Pam retorts.
A few minutes after she leaves, they hear her say, “Eric. I think you’d better come in here.”
Eric playfully tosses Peia off his lap and gets up. There is an odd, otherworldly looking man in a formal suit standing at the door. He is wearing a hat and feathered mask. In a voice that doesn’t sound human, he says,
“Eric Northman.”
Eric steps forward. Quicker than the eye can see, the man takes a short knife, slashes Eric’s arm and collects the blood on a large, formal looking envelope. The man then smears the blood evenly across the paper and in fancy lettering, Eric’s name appears. He then hands the envelope to Eric and after a quick bow, disappears from the doorway.
“Is that what I think it is???” Pam asks before Eric has a chance to open it.
“I believe so.” Eric responds calmly.
Pam lets out a little excited squeal. Peia steps into the room.
“What is it?” She asks, confused.
“An invitation. To the Black Moon Ball.”
Pam clarifies, “Otherwise known as ‘The-best-fucking-vampire-party-ever’. The host is very old and very rich.”
“It’s in New Orleans. When was the last one?” Eric asks Pam.
“Had to be five years,” she answers before adding, “How much time do we have?”
She moves to snatch the invite. Eric at first pulls it back playfully, but then lets her have it.
“It’s next Saturday!” She frowns in Peia’s direction and adds, “It’s going to take at least that long to get her cleaned up and ready to be seen.”
“Hey!” Peia exclaims, defensively.
“Oh please. It’s like a fucking debutante ball for vampires. Anybody who is anybody will be there. You have to look the part, or you’ll embarrass us all.”
“Maybe not all of us,” Eric retorts in defense.
“I’m in. Sounds fun,” Peia shrugs.
“Excellent. We’ve got some serious shopping to do. And spa appointments to make.” She squints her eyes at Peia before adding, “Are you ready to go blonde yet? Because then we could all match.”
Peia shakes her head.
“Well, we’ll have to do something with that.” She waves her hand in the direction of Peia’s hair.
**
Time passes quickly and Peia gets caught up in the excitement of it all. Turns out Jessica and Sookie will be going with Bill. Pam repeatedly remarks that Bill was not invited to the last one. Because he was a fucking nobody. But now that he fancies himself King... She is very competitive about the whole thing and insists that she and Peia and Eric must outdo the others in every way possible. Much money is spent on clothes and jewelry. Peia just goes with the flow, actually pleased that Sookie and Jessica will be there so she will have someone to talk to.
The night of “The Ball”, Pam and Peia arrive at Fangtasia – the limo is picking them up there and taking them into the city for the party. Eric is already at the club, in time to give last minute instructions to the staff. They had decided to keep Fangtasia open, so all the non-invitees have a place to go – alt Ball, as they are calling it. As the women enter the club, there is a noticeable silence. Dressed to the nines, looking fabulous, they make quite an entrance. The regulars & bar staff don’t even recognize Peia at first.
Pam is the first to speak. “She cleans up nicely. I managed to dig up some glamour under all that…lack of effort.” This is the closest thing to a compliment Pam ever gives.
Eric responds, “You both look exquisite. We will certainly be the best looking family at the party.”
“Damn straight.” Pam enthuses.
“Just so you know, I am not fighting in this dress. If there’s trouble, ya’ll are on your own,” Peia offers with amused confidence.
“I need to grab my handbag out of the safe. Be back in five,” Pam says as she heads to the back room.
Peia saunters up to Eric, admiring the elegance of his form in the beautifully tailored all-black tuxedo. She is wearing a curve hugging burgundy red satin dress with lace overlay and off the shoulder cap sleeves. Eric closely scans her look, twirling her around once she is close enough. Her hair is up in a French twist, her bangs dyed to color of her dress.
“You look positively regal,” he observes, eyes wide with admiration.
“A fit date for a prince?” She smiles.
“A prince?”
“Men didn’t grow as big as you are a thousand years ago unless they were rich. And the only rich men were royalty.”
He smiles, “Clever girl. But that was a long time ago. Such titles have long since turned to dust.”
Just then, a messenger arrives – just like the one who delivered the original invitation. Eric frowns and takes the small envelope. He reads aloud.
“Due to a security breach, The Ball has been forced to change venues. As the new space is smaller, each invitee is allowed only one guest. There will be no exceptions.”
Peia’s smile quickly turns to a disappointed frown. Her shoulders hunch slightly.
“You have to take Pam. Of course,” she states, defeated.
Eric nods, apologetically.
She mumbles to herself, “Oh my god, I’m a Mormon. This is what it feels like to be the second wife.”
“What?” Eric asks.
“Nothing. Just let me think a minute.” She is shocked at her disappointment. She hadn’t realized just how much she was looking forward to being on Eric’s arm.
“What’s up? That frown is really not working for you,” Pam asks as she approaches them.
“I can’t go to The Ball,” Peia explains. Eric hands Pam the card.
“This is outrageous! Fuckers can’t change the rules hours before the party starts,” Pam is genuinely disappointed. She was proud of the transformation she had accomplished and wanted to show off her work.
“I have to go do something. Don’t leave yet.” Peia then disappears into one of the back rooms.
“What is going on with this shit? Has this ever happened before?” Pam asks, indignant.
“Not that I am aware of. It must be political.”
“Political. How?”
“Find out who Bill has chosen.”
“Sure. I’ll text Jessica.”
After about ten minutes, Peia returns looking refreshed and in better spirits.
“I will take you out tomorrow in that dress. Someplace appropriately expensive,” Eric offers.
“No need. I have plans. Not going to let six hours in the salon go to waste. This (she gestures to herself) needs to be seen by someone other than the losers here at Fangtasia.”
“What plans?” Eric asks, a bit dubious.
“Have the driver drop me at this address (she holds up a piece of paper). It’s a bar downtown. You can pick me up after your Ball. If I’m ready to go.” She strides toward the door.
Eric looks at Pam, who just shrugs.
They all pile into the limo and start driving. After a few minutes, Pam’s phone beeps.
“He’s taking Sookie.”
“Of course he is. Stupid fuck. This could be bad for us.”
“The old folks won’t approve?” Pam asks with mild snark.
“The old and the powerful grow frustrated by the influence of the AVL. They are looking for reasons to create dissent in this Kingdom. And as we are currently linked to Bill’s reign, his choices affect us. Choosing to bring a human over his own offspring will be seen as evidence of his priorities.”
“Or maybe its just a party,” Pam offers.
*
They arrive at the bar and Peia gets out.
“Are you sure about this?” Eric asks again.
“It’s fine. No problem. Have fun.” Peia responds, unconvincingly.
The door closes and after a minute or two, Pam says,
“You know it’s not fine, right?”
“She said it was fine.”
“You can’t possibly be that stupid. Has it really been that long since you had a girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend? We are not school children.”
“Oh please. Call it what you like. It’s not fine and she will hold this against you. Or at the least, she will add it to the list of things that she isn’t quite happy about. Because that is what girlfriends do.”
“In your infinite wisdom in these matters, what do you suggest I do?” He asks with intentional snark.
“Usually I’d suggest jewelry, but Peia is a bit of an odd one. Maybe flowers. Or a plant or something.”
Eric nods suddenly.
“What’s that smirk for?”
“I know what to get her.”
“Fanfuckingtastic. Perhaps you should also get me something for helping maintain family harmony. I’m just saying.”
“Good thing I view greed as a virtue.” He says, lifting her hand and kissing it.
*
Peia looks down at her phone, which is giving her directions to the bar. Earlier, she had gone online and posted a message to her fan-base reading,
“In New Orleans, all dressed up and no place to go. Suggestions of bars/clubs/restaurants welcome. Anyone want to meet?”
Someone had responded and voila. Sure he/she could turn out to be a crazy stalker/axe murderer, but she just needed plans. ANY plans would do. And she was quite confident that even in this dress, she could kick the ass of any run-of-the-mill axe murderer. In the end, the fan meeting her turned out to be a rather well-off, mildly eccentric gay man named Max. They had a lovely late dinner together, after which he invited her to his house where he had invited friends and fans for a late-night impromptu party. It turned into a rather fun night of drinking and dancing and story swapping. The people were lovely and welcoming and she was quickly in the mood for a good knees-up. She found herself talking quite a bit with Max, eventually agreeing to write a special story for he and his fiance, who was currently out of town. She jotted down some notes of what he particularly liked and promised to send him something x-rated by their anniversary in a months’ time.
“So what’s it like dating a vampire?” He’d asked with true curiosity.
“It’s good. An escape. Eric is beautiful and important and full-of-himself. Sometimes I feel like the alt girl in high school dating the captain of the football team. Only the football captain is actually a thousand year old vampire sheriff and I am, well, an alt girl. I try not to think about it.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, girlfriend. If I weren’t gay, I’d be all over that! With the writing and the dress and the hair. You got plenty going on. Though I guess much of that wouldn’t impress me if I wasn’t gay. Gosh, so hard to imagine ‘not gay’. But you know what I’m sayin’.”
She had been ignoring the buzzing of her phone all night. It wasn’t that she was angry with Eric. It was right that he took Pam. But it left her feeling adrift somehow. And that translated into her having to prove something to herself – what, that she didn’t need him? She doesn’t know. But she did take some pleasure in making him wait. He was angry when she finally texted him. She knew not to invite him into Max’s house. When the bartender had told him that she had dinner with a nice looking man, he all but flew into a jealous rage. He had arrived at Max’s ready to rip his throat out and it took a few minutes for Peia to explain that there was no problem, that Max was gay and that she was just having a good time with her new friends. Pam helped to talk him down, reminding him about their earlier conversation. Finally, Peia just walked out of the house, waving goodbye to her friends. Eric grabbed her arm, not gently, and led her into the limo.
Once inside, he huffed, “You smell.” She did, of bourbon and whiskey and sweat.
“Well you don’t.” She replied, pointedly. She missed the smell of men and wanted him to know it.
They did not speak, but the bitterness slowly dissipated, burned off like mist in their proximity. By the time they made it back to Shreveport, everyone was amicable again, albeit tired. Peia made some perfunctory inquiries about the Ball and received minimal information in return. She would get the scoop from Sookie later. Arriving at the house, they only had a few minutes until daylight. Pam went straight to her bedroom and Peia and Eric went directly into the inner room.
Eric lay on the bed, watching her take off her costume jewelry.
“I thought of you all night in that dress. To others, you appear a different person. You wear this look as naturally as you wear your cargo pants. How is that possible?”
“You don’t know everything about me, Eric.”
“I would have enjoyed watching others watch you at the party. Though likely, I would have neglected my mingling duties as a result.”
“Take your last look. You won’t see me in this dress again,” she says, rather ambiguously, reaching her arms behind her back to work on the zipper.
Eric leaps up and stands in back of her.
“Let me.”
She melts at the touch of his hands on her shoulder. He starts to pull on the zipper, but then changes his mind. Instead, he pushes her forward against the side wall, slips his hands between her legs and tears the seams as he pushes the fabric of the dress up to her waist revealing her naked ass. Using one had to unfasten his pants, he uses the other to hastily push her legs apart, giving him access. In a second, he positions his massively hard cock at her entrance, the lack of adequate moisture providing more than typical resistance. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he thrusts with more support, submerging his full length into her body. She yelps slightly at the force of his injection, feeling a twinge of pain from the friction, her body not quite prepared for his eagerness. She pushes back against the wall, meeting his next thrust with equal strength. He growls and plunges back in, increasing both the pace and thrust, fueled by her whimpers, soon fucking her so furiously that his mind goes completely blank and he becomes solitarily focused on his building orgasm, the mild smell of blood stoking his desire. He slows down slightly, drawing out the final moments before the bliss. He rambles hoarsely,
“I do not want anyone to know how sweet your pussy is; how you fuck like a bitch in heat; how your body smells when you come; how you taste when the blood mixes with your desire. I want them to look and see nothing.”
And with that he plows into her, releasing what has been building inside him all night. He quickly pushes her off him and flips her over onto the bed. He dives between her legs, licking her clit roughly as she starts to come. He inserts three fingers into her pulsing hole, stoking her orgasm as he moves his face to the side and bites into her thigh. She tenses slightly at this, reflexively grabbing at his hair as he sucks down the blood flowing from the fresh holes he has made. By the time he is done drinking, he is hard and ready for more. He climbs up her body, diving back into her cunt, now swollen and wet. He releases her breasts from the dress, suckling them in turn. Peia moves to take the dress off, but Eric stops her. “Leave it on,” he growls.
An hour and two orgasms later, Peia’s pussy sore and achy from the stimulation and swelling, she notices the blood forming in the corners of his eyes. It has been daylight for a while now.
“Shouldn’t you rest?” She asks, feeling tired herself.
He wipes the blood from his eyes and stands up, pulling her off the bed. He reaches to pull her dress back down over her hips.
“One more. On your knees. Please.”
She complies, getting on her knees, facing him. He is still in his tuxedo, now rumpled and just pushed aside enough for their activities. She moves her face forward and reaches for his half-turgid member; she takes hold and guides it to her mouth. As he stiffens, she uses her mouth and hand in concert to cover his entire length with rhythmic sucks and squeezes. He watches her endeavors closely, his eyes occasionally flickering with pleasure. He imagines himself at the ball – the two of them in a corner while she goes to town on his cock. In his vision, her hair, make-up and dress are still perfect as she enthusiastically sucks him off.
**
About a week later, Peia is sent on an errand to Merlott’s. She is looking forward to chatting with Sookie about the party and seeing the other regulars as well. Arriving, she is disappointed to find that Sookie is not working – Jessica is covering her shift. Also, instead of finding Terry in the kitchen, with whom she had struck up a friendly acquaintance since that night he had given her a ride, she found Lafayette. She had met Lafayette only once before – back when she was in town with Spike. Since she had been back in town, he had been away, so she had all but forgotten about his existence. Not wanting to have wasted a trip (the errand was mostly just an excuse to drop by), she decided to have a quick drink and wait for Jessica’s next break to have a chat.
Sam has been somewhat guarded around Peia since he found out she was with/working for Eric. He always made sure she got a free drink when she came to the bar, but it did not seem motivated by genuine friendliness, despite appearances. It was more perfunctory, as if she were a cop and this was a donut shop. In any case, she happily sat at the bar with her scotch making some idle chit-chat. After a few minutes, Lafayette came out of the kitchen and sat down next to her. She was a bit thrown by his friendliness and wondered if she had forgotten some conversation or interaction they’d had.
“Hey, girl. Sook said you were back in town.”
“Yeah. Settling in. You’ve been out seeing the world?” She responds, politely.
He nods. “Seen some weird shit. But it’s all life, experience, you know. Damn happy to be back in this shit-hole. Never thought I’d hear myself say that.”
“I guess it has a peculiar sort of charm.” She responds.
He shrugs. “It’s home. For those of us cursed to be born here. I don’t know what the rest of ya’ll are thinkin’.” He laughs and shakes his head.
“I’m living in Shreveport, so…”
“Fair enough. So where’s Spike?” He asks, not quite innocently.
Peia can hear Jessica gasp in horror from across the room. Peia feels her heart pound, but maintains her cool. She takes a sip of her drink before responding.
“Do you want the long version or the short version?”
“Short.”
“We broke up.”
“What was the long version?”
“It didn’t work out.”
“One whole extra word. That’s some detail.”
Peia shrugs. He can tell it is a sensitive subject.
“Sorry to hear that. I really am. You made a cute little couple. And anyone who takes Eric down a few notches, arrogant motherfucker, is ok in my book.” He says the last part as if telling a secret with is hand next to his mouth.
Confused, she responds, “Not sure that Spike was in any shape to take anyone down when he was here.”
Explaining, casually, “Nah, not the time when he was here with you. After when he came by himself.”
Peia’s muscles tense and she feels a hot rush to her cheeks.
“He came back? When?” She tries to act casual.
“Few months back. Figured you knew all about it, since you’re the reason he came back to kick Eric’s Nordic ass.”
She takes a hard swallow and a deep breath.
“What happened?” She asks.
Lafayette turns to the bar, “Remember, Sam, when Spike swaggered in here, looking for Eric and Pam? Wearin’ that long black coat and being all badass and shit? Mmmm mmm.”
Sam frowns, “No. Think I would have remembered something like that.”
“Come on. It was epic. You told him he couldn’t smoke in here and then he grabbed a bottle of scotch and….You don’t remember?”
“I think someone had a dream – the kind of dream that might be best kept to oneself, I reckon.”
“Shit, they must have glamoured you or somethin’. It happened. I was there – saw more than I wanted to. Called being in the wrong place at the right time.”
“Tell me what happened. Please.” Peia says softly.
“Spike came in here looking for information on Eric – his memory was foggy ‘bout the whole thing, but he remembered this place for who knows why. He thanked me for the spell that helped him and then bragged about going after Eric – something about payback. Anyway, I think it was Pam who slipped up in the end – seemed to have a soft spot for Spike. Next thing I knew, I’m filming over at the abandoned tobacco factory down on Shute street – took a little corner for a new adult studio – and Spike shows up with Eric tied up in silver.”
Sam interrupts, “Didn’t that factory burn down? Thought it was a lightening strike.”
“It burned down alright, after they ripped it to shreds. Eric must’ve wanted to destroy the evidence of his humiliation. Too short, IMHO. Anyway, Spike had some fun, you know, the way only vampires and psychopaths can. Got some good rants on. Sexy as shit, bein’ all chivalrous.
Flashback in Lafayette’s mind. He doesn’t give Peia this much detail.
“Nothing personal, mate, but you had to know there’d be a price to pay.” Spike, with thick gloves, says, holding a silver coated ball on a chain about the size of a softball with silver spines extruding from its’ surface. “Ooh, this one looks fun.”
“You had not properly claimed her. Technically, I did nothing wrong.” Eric replies.
“You did not properly claim her. Oh my.” Spike says in a sing-song mocking voice “Do I look like I give a fuck about ‘proper’? Or bloody technicalities??” He tosses the silver ball into Eric’s chest.
“If you have a grievance, you can take it up with the Magister.” Eric replies, in obvious pain.
“A grievance? You blackmailed my girlfriend into fucking you, then proceeded to try to turn her.” He screams, indignant. “In all fairness if you’d done that to anyone else’s girlfriend, I’d be all “good on you, mate,” but seeing as she was mine, I really have no choice here. Honor and all that.”
He walks over to the table with various torture devices and starts sorting through them, hastily.
“You know how this will end. You cannot defeat me – do you even have 200 years?”
“I’ve never been one to respect my elders. Ask around. Authority isn’t really my thing.”
He tosses a silver chain mesh onto Eric’s head. Eric grunts in pain.
“Don’t worry, mate. My plan is not to “defeat” you (he hand quotes). You’ve got friends in high places and I don’t need the headache. Just a little payback, is all.”
“I did you a favor.”
“How’s that? Don’t think I heard you right. Let me just get this off…” He takes a long poker and fishes the mesh off of Eric’s face, then stabs him in the side with the poker.
“I did you a favor. You’re not going to go back to her now, are you?” Eric spits through clenched teeth.
“Fuck off. This isn’t for me anyway.”
That was when Pam decided to intervene. She had been there for a while before leaping to Eric’s aid. On some level, she thought he deserved a little punishment and she knew he was in no real danger. She had remarked to Lafayette,
“Spike makes me question my sexuality.”
“Not mine.” Lafayette had responded.
“Pam, you know I can hear you, right?” Eric said, offended.
End flashback
Lafayette continues, “I got the hell out of there once the fighting started – Spike held his own for the bit I saw, but I figured he couldn’t do much against the two of them. That building came down in no time. You seen him since? ”
Peia nods.
“Happy to hear that. Woulda been a shame.”
He was going to say more, but Peia lifts her glass, downs the last of the scotch, slides off her chair and leaves without saying a word.
Sam offers, “You know Peia works for Eric now. They live together.”
“Oh, damn. This may be some shit. I’ll be in the kitchen keepin’ my mouth shut.”
*
Peia walks around for a while before going to Fangtasia. By the time she gets there, it is around 3am – they closed early for some reason. Seeing Pam near the bar, she walks over.
“I need to talk to Eric.”
“I’d wait a bit. He’s downstairs with Tatyana, the new dancer. I knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her, lucky bastard.” Pam says casually.
“Oh. Uh. Right.” Peia is a bit flustered by this, but has no ability to process it.
“You could probably use a break,” Pam offers.
“Did Spike come here?” Peia abruptly asks.
“Sure did, honey. You were with him, remember?” Pam responds as though she is talking to a child.
“After that.”
“Nope. Not that I know about.” She lies without hesitation.
“I didn’t think so. Just heard a rumor. Tell Eric I am going to do some writing. I’ll meet him back at the house at dawn.” Peia says in her most casual tone.
It takes all her mental energy to stop herself from running to the door. Instead, she forces herself to take slow, relaxed steps. As soon as she clears the door, she sets out in a run.
An hour or so later, Tatyana emerges from the basement with a flushed grin. Pam gives her the once over and asks, “Have fun?”
“Yes. It was fantastic.” Tatyana responds a bit suspiciously. She leaves.
Eric emerges from the basement looking pensive.
“Is she is as tasty as she looks?” Pam asks, curious about Eric’s expression.
“Tasted fine. But nothing else went as expected,” he confesses.
“OMG, you glamour fucked her. That bad?”
“Couldn’t let her talk. I do have a reputation to maintain.”
“Maybe its time to go back to redheads,” she offers, minimizing.
“Maybe.”
“Peia was looking for you. Says she’s writing and will meet you at the house at dawn.”
“Did you tell her where I was?”
“Sure. Figured its good for her to know.”
He frowns in annoyance.
“Did she seem upset?”
“No. Just distracted like she gets when she’s writing.”
“Does this require another present?”
“For fucking a stripper? Nah. She needs to learn not to fret the small stuff.”
Eric nods, but is dubious of Pam’s logic. And perhaps a bit disappointed.
Pam adds, “Oh, and she asked about Spike. His second visit.”
“How could she know about that? We glamoured all the human witnesses and Sookie was out of town.”
“Said she heard a rumor. Didn’t seem that bothered when I told her it was wrong.”
Pam suddenly feels a bit guilty, because it was her responsibility to glamour Lafayette, but he had left town and she had forgotten to keep an eye out for his return. She will rectify that tomorrow night if she can. Eric would certainly lose his shit if he knew she had left a witness, so she keeps her tone as neutral as possible. She hates it when he is angry with her.
“Ok.” Eric responds. He accepts Pam’s lack of concern and will try to track down the source of the rumor himself tomorrow.
He returns to the house a while later. It is nearly daylight and he smells only the faint trace of Peia – as if she had been here for a moment, then left again. He picks up his phone and calls her – she hates to be disturbed when she is writing, but he suddenly feels an urgency to be with her and wants to be sure she doesn’t stay out past the sun. The phone rings once in his ear. The second ring, he hears in echo, as the phone is somewhere in the house. He walks toward the sound and finds it lying on their bed. He picks it up, eyes wide, a realization dawning on him. He glances around the room for her bag. It’s gone. He sees evidences of a frantic departure. He rushes to the door, only to be met with the first rays of sunlight burning his eyes. He tries to find her mentally, but feels nothing.
He turns and lets out a loud, angry shout of frustration while grabbing a lamp and smashing it against the kitchen wall.
**

Eric flinches in his sleep, a flash of fear piercing his dream, the prickly brightness of sunlight. By the time he opens his eyes, it is dark. She must have forgotten to close the blind in the kitchen again. He turns over to confirm that she has indeed left the bed. He had once again abandoned the coffin, even the new one he and Pam had shopped for when Peia was away. Loath as he was to admit it, he had grown accustomed to her warmth, her breath, the steady beating of her heart. He found his inability to rest in the coffin disconcerting and vaguely felt the need to discover a way to return to his old ways. Perhaps tomorrow.
Eric was pleased at how well Peia was settling in. In addition to helping at the club, he was pleasantly surprised by her interest and talent in the more physical aspects of the business. For sure, she was not cruel like Pam, but also not as charitable as he would have predicted. She was always careful to voice any objections to his instructions in private. Her steely logic in matters of business and justice were an asset. Most importantly, all of this made him pleased with himself for choosing her, something he always enjoys.
As a lover, she was unemotional, but wildly enthusiastic. He enjoyed the attention she paid to him, the way she seemed to study and explore his body with a long forgotten erotic curiosity. Strange that he had not yet found his eye wandering, a sign of the inevitable boredom. Of course, it has still been merely the blink of an eye. All things in time.
Wednesdays were movie night, if there was no pending business to attend to. Eric, Pam and Peia would sit together in the theatre room. Peia always made popcorn – one of the few food smells that did not disgust the vampires. Too often, the movie would fail to hold their attention and Eric and Peia would make out on the couch, prompting Pam to snark “If I knew it was date night, I would have brought a fucking date. You guys are like a pair of teenagers in heat.” Tonight, the movie was Centurian – one Peia assured they would like due to all the death and dismemberment. Plus Eric hated the Romans, so he was always up for any depiction of their suffering. Peia had picked it because the villains were both women. One of her obsessions.
As the film ends, Peia says “Well I know who I am dressing as on Halloween. I just need a horse, one of those fantastic double-headed axe things, some hair teaser and black smudgy eye make-up.”
“Halloween. Or tomorrow?” Eric says with obvious anticipation.
“Could you go that long without talking?” Pam asks (the villain was mute).
“That would be the best part,” Peia responds.
Suddenly, they hear the doorbell ring. Odd. They all exchange glances.
“Pam?”
“What, it’s your house!” She answers, indignantly.
“I’ve got a woman on me,” he shrugs, pulling Peia onto his lap.
“Damn, I wish I had that excuse,” Pam retorts.
A few minutes after she leaves, they hear her say, “Eric. I think you’d better come in here.”
Eric playfully tosses Peia off his lap and gets up. There is an odd, otherworldly looking man in a formal suit standing at the door. He is wearing a hat and feathered mask. In a voice that doesn’t sound human, he says,
“Eric Northman.”
Eric steps forward. Quicker than the eye can see, the man takes a short knife, slashes Eric’s arm and collects the blood on a large, formal looking envelope. The man then smears the blood evenly across the paper and in fancy lettering, Eric’s name appears. He then hands the envelope to Eric and after a quick bow, disappears from the doorway.
“Is that what I think it is???” Pam asks before Eric has a chance to open it.
“I believe so.” Eric responds calmly.
Pam lets out a little excited squeal. Peia steps into the room.
“What is it?” She asks, confused.
“An invitation. To the Black Moon Ball.”
Pam clarifies, “Otherwise known as ‘The-best-fucking-vampire-party-ever’. The host is very old and very rich.”
“It’s in New Orleans. When was the last one?” Eric asks Pam.
“Had to be five years,” she answers before adding, “How much time do we have?”
She moves to snatch the invite. Eric at first pulls it back playfully, but then lets her have it.
“It’s next Saturday!” She frowns in Peia’s direction and adds, “It’s going to take at least that long to get her cleaned up and ready to be seen.”
“Hey!” Peia exclaims, defensively.
“Oh please. It’s like a fucking debutante ball for vampires. Anybody who is anybody will be there. You have to look the part, or you’ll embarrass us all.”
“Maybe not all of us,” Eric retorts in defense.
“I’m in. Sounds fun,” Peia shrugs.
“Excellent. We’ve got some serious shopping to do. And spa appointments to make.” She squints her eyes at Peia before adding, “Are you ready to go blonde yet? Because then we could all match.”
Peia shakes her head.
“Well, we’ll have to do something with that.” She waves her hand in the direction of Peia’s hair.
**
Time passes quickly and Peia gets caught up in the excitement of it all. Turns out Jessica and Sookie will be going with Bill. Pam repeatedly remarks that Bill was not invited to the last one. Because he was a fucking nobody. But now that he fancies himself King... She is very competitive about the whole thing and insists that she and Peia and Eric must outdo the others in every way possible. Much money is spent on clothes and jewelry. Peia just goes with the flow, actually pleased that Sookie and Jessica will be there so she will have someone to talk to.
The night of “The Ball”, Pam and Peia arrive at Fangtasia – the limo is picking them up there and taking them into the city for the party. Eric is already at the club, in time to give last minute instructions to the staff. They had decided to keep Fangtasia open, so all the non-invitees have a place to go – alt Ball, as they are calling it. As the women enter the club, there is a noticeable silence. Dressed to the nines, looking fabulous, they make quite an entrance. The regulars & bar staff don’t even recognize Peia at first.
Pam is the first to speak. “She cleans up nicely. I managed to dig up some glamour under all that…lack of effort.” This is the closest thing to a compliment Pam ever gives.
Eric responds, “You both look exquisite. We will certainly be the best looking family at the party.”
“Damn straight.” Pam enthuses.
“Just so you know, I am not fighting in this dress. If there’s trouble, ya’ll are on your own,” Peia offers with amused confidence.
“I need to grab my handbag out of the safe. Be back in five,” Pam says as she heads to the back room.
Peia saunters up to Eric, admiring the elegance of his form in the beautifully tailored all-black tuxedo. She is wearing a curve hugging burgundy red satin dress with lace overlay and off the shoulder cap sleeves. Eric closely scans her look, twirling her around once she is close enough. Her hair is up in a French twist, her bangs dyed to color of her dress.
“You look positively regal,” he observes, eyes wide with admiration.
“A fit date for a prince?” She smiles.
“A prince?”
“Men didn’t grow as big as you are a thousand years ago unless they were rich. And the only rich men were royalty.”
He smiles, “Clever girl. But that was a long time ago. Such titles have long since turned to dust.”
Just then, a messenger arrives – just like the one who delivered the original invitation. Eric frowns and takes the small envelope. He reads aloud.
“Due to a security breach, The Ball has been forced to change venues. As the new space is smaller, each invitee is allowed only one guest. There will be no exceptions.”
Peia’s smile quickly turns to a disappointed frown. Her shoulders hunch slightly.
“You have to take Pam. Of course,” she states, defeated.
Eric nods, apologetically.
She mumbles to herself, “Oh my god, I’m a Mormon. This is what it feels like to be the second wife.”
“What?” Eric asks.
“Nothing. Just let me think a minute.” She is shocked at her disappointment. She hadn’t realized just how much she was looking forward to being on Eric’s arm.
“What’s up? That frown is really not working for you,” Pam asks as she approaches them.
“I can’t go to The Ball,” Peia explains. Eric hands Pam the card.
“This is outrageous! Fuckers can’t change the rules hours before the party starts,” Pam is genuinely disappointed. She was proud of the transformation she had accomplished and wanted to show off her work.
“I have to go do something. Don’t leave yet.” Peia then disappears into one of the back rooms.
“What is going on with this shit? Has this ever happened before?” Pam asks, indignant.
“Not that I am aware of. It must be political.”
“Political. How?”
“Find out who Bill has chosen.”
“Sure. I’ll text Jessica.”
After about ten minutes, Peia returns looking refreshed and in better spirits.
“I will take you out tomorrow in that dress. Someplace appropriately expensive,” Eric offers.
“No need. I have plans. Not going to let six hours in the salon go to waste. This (she gestures to herself) needs to be seen by someone other than the losers here at Fangtasia.”
“What plans?” Eric asks, a bit dubious.
“Have the driver drop me at this address (she holds up a piece of paper). It’s a bar downtown. You can pick me up after your Ball. If I’m ready to go.” She strides toward the door.
Eric looks at Pam, who just shrugs.
They all pile into the limo and start driving. After a few minutes, Pam’s phone beeps.
“He’s taking Sookie.”
“Of course he is. Stupid fuck. This could be bad for us.”
“The old folks won’t approve?” Pam asks with mild snark.
“The old and the powerful grow frustrated by the influence of the AVL. They are looking for reasons to create dissent in this Kingdom. And as we are currently linked to Bill’s reign, his choices affect us. Choosing to bring a human over his own offspring will be seen as evidence of his priorities.”
“Or maybe its just a party,” Pam offers.
*
They arrive at the bar and Peia gets out.
“Are you sure about this?” Eric asks again.
“It’s fine. No problem. Have fun.” Peia responds, unconvincingly.
The door closes and after a minute or two, Pam says,
“You know it’s not fine, right?”
“She said it was fine.”
“You can’t possibly be that stupid. Has it really been that long since you had a girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend? We are not school children.”
“Oh please. Call it what you like. It’s not fine and she will hold this against you. Or at the least, she will add it to the list of things that she isn’t quite happy about. Because that is what girlfriends do.”
“In your infinite wisdom in these matters, what do you suggest I do?” He asks with intentional snark.
“Usually I’d suggest jewelry, but Peia is a bit of an odd one. Maybe flowers. Or a plant or something.”
Eric nods suddenly.
“What’s that smirk for?”
“I know what to get her.”
“Fanfuckingtastic. Perhaps you should also get me something for helping maintain family harmony. I’m just saying.”
“Good thing I view greed as a virtue.” He says, lifting her hand and kissing it.
*
Peia looks down at her phone, which is giving her directions to the bar. Earlier, she had gone online and posted a message to her fan-base reading,
“In New Orleans, all dressed up and no place to go. Suggestions of bars/clubs/restaurants welcome. Anyone want to meet?”
Someone had responded and voila. Sure he/she could turn out to be a crazy stalker/axe murderer, but she just needed plans. ANY plans would do. And she was quite confident that even in this dress, she could kick the ass of any run-of-the-mill axe murderer. In the end, the fan meeting her turned out to be a rather well-off, mildly eccentric gay man named Max. They had a lovely late dinner together, after which he invited her to his house where he had invited friends and fans for a late-night impromptu party. It turned into a rather fun night of drinking and dancing and story swapping. The people were lovely and welcoming and she was quickly in the mood for a good knees-up. She found herself talking quite a bit with Max, eventually agreeing to write a special story for he and his fiance, who was currently out of town. She jotted down some notes of what he particularly liked and promised to send him something x-rated by their anniversary in a months’ time.
“So what’s it like dating a vampire?” He’d asked with true curiosity.
“It’s good. An escape. Eric is beautiful and important and full-of-himself. Sometimes I feel like the alt girl in high school dating the captain of the football team. Only the football captain is actually a thousand year old vampire sheriff and I am, well, an alt girl. I try not to think about it.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, girlfriend. If I weren’t gay, I’d be all over that! With the writing and the dress and the hair. You got plenty going on. Though I guess much of that wouldn’t impress me if I wasn’t gay. Gosh, so hard to imagine ‘not gay’. But you know what I’m sayin’.”
She had been ignoring the buzzing of her phone all night. It wasn’t that she was angry with Eric. It was right that he took Pam. But it left her feeling adrift somehow. And that translated into her having to prove something to herself – what, that she didn’t need him? She doesn’t know. But she did take some pleasure in making him wait. He was angry when she finally texted him. She knew not to invite him into Max’s house. When the bartender had told him that she had dinner with a nice looking man, he all but flew into a jealous rage. He had arrived at Max’s ready to rip his throat out and it took a few minutes for Peia to explain that there was no problem, that Max was gay and that she was just having a good time with her new friends. Pam helped to talk him down, reminding him about their earlier conversation. Finally, Peia just walked out of the house, waving goodbye to her friends. Eric grabbed her arm, not gently, and led her into the limo.
Once inside, he huffed, “You smell.” She did, of bourbon and whiskey and sweat.
“Well you don’t.” She replied, pointedly. She missed the smell of men and wanted him to know it.
They did not speak, but the bitterness slowly dissipated, burned off like mist in their proximity. By the time they made it back to Shreveport, everyone was amicable again, albeit tired. Peia made some perfunctory inquiries about the Ball and received minimal information in return. She would get the scoop from Sookie later. Arriving at the house, they only had a few minutes until daylight. Pam went straight to her bedroom and Peia and Eric went directly into the inner room.
Eric lay on the bed, watching her take off her costume jewelry.
“I thought of you all night in that dress. To others, you appear a different person. You wear this look as naturally as you wear your cargo pants. How is that possible?”
“You don’t know everything about me, Eric.”
“I would have enjoyed watching others watch you at the party. Though likely, I would have neglected my mingling duties as a result.”
“Take your last look. You won’t see me in this dress again,” she says, rather ambiguously, reaching her arms behind her back to work on the zipper.
Eric leaps up and stands in back of her.
“Let me.”
She melts at the touch of his hands on her shoulder. He starts to pull on the zipper, but then changes his mind. Instead, he pushes her forward against the side wall, slips his hands between her legs and….
[Author’s note: Ok, so I decided to skip the smut temporarily. I wanted to get the basic plot down for this chapter. Check this space – I will try to elaborate on this scene sometime in the next week. In the meantime, use your imagination….]
**
About a week later, Peia is sent on an errand to Merlott’s. She is looking forward to chatting with Sookie about the party and seeing the other regulars as well. Arriving, she is disappointed to find that Sookie is not working – Jessica is covering her shift. Also, instead of finding Terry in the kitchen, with whom she had struck up a friendly acquaintance since that night he had given her a ride, she found Lafayette. She had met Lafayette only once before – back when she was in town with Spike. Since she had been back in town, he had been away, so she had all but forgotten about his existence. Not wanting to have wasted a trip (the errand was mostly just an excuse to drop by), she decided to have a quick drink and wait for Jessica’s next break to have a chat.
Sam has been somewhat guarded around Peia since he found out she was with/working for Eric. He always made sure she got a free drink when she came to the bar, but it did not seem motivated by genuine friendliness, despite appearances. It was more perfunctory, as if she were a cop and this was a donut shop. In any case, she happily sat at the bar with her scotch making some idle chit-chat. After a few minutes, Lafayette came out of the kitchen and sat down next to her. She was a bit thrown by his friendliness and wondered if she had forgotten some conversation or interaction they’d had.
“Hey, girl. Sook said you were back in town.”
“Yeah. Settling in. You’ve been out seeing the world?” She responds, politely.
He nods. “Seen some weird shit. But it’s all life, experience, you know. Damn happy to be back in this shit-hole. Never thought I’d hear myself say that.”
“I guess it has a peculiar sort of charm.” She responds.
He shrugs. “It’s home. For those of us cursed to be born here. I don’t know what the rest of ya’ll are thinkin’.” He laughs and shakes his head.
“I’m living in Shreveport, so…”
“Fair enough. So where’s Spike?” He asks, not quite innocently.
Peia can hear Jessica gasp in horror from across the room. Peia feels her heart pound, but maintains her cool. She takes a sip of her drink before responding.
“Do you want the long version or the short version?”
“Short.”
“We broke up.”
“What was the long version?”
“It didn’t work out.”
“One whole extra word. That’s some detail.”
Peia shrugs. He can tell it is a sensitive subject.
“Sorry to hear that. I really am. You made a cute little couple. And anyone who takes Eric down a few notches, arrogant motherfucker, is ok in my book.” He says the last part as if telling a secret with is hand next to his mouth.
Confused, she responds, “Not sure that Spike was in any shape to take anyone down when he was here.”
Explaining, casually, “Nah, not the time when he was here with you. After when he came by himself.”
Peia’s muscles tense and she feels a hot rush to her cheeks.
“He came back? When?” She tries to act casual.
“Few months back. Figured you knew all about it, since you’re the reason he came back to kick Eric’s Nordic ass.”
She takes a hard swallow and a deep breath.
“What happened?” She asks.
Lafayette turns to the bar, “Remember, Sam, when Spike swaggered in here, looking for Eric and Pam? Wearin’ that long black coat and being all badass and shit? Mmmm mmm.”
Sam frowns, “No. Think I would have remembered something like that.”
“Come on. It was epic. You told him he couldn’t smoke in here and then he grabbed a bottle of scotch and….You don’t remember?”
“I think someone had a dream – the kind of dream that might be best kept to oneself, I reckon.”
“Shit, they must have glamoured you or somethin’. It happened. I was there – saw more than I wanted to. Called being in the wrong place at the right time.”
“Tell me what happened. Please.” Peia says softly.
“Spike came in here looking for information on Eric – his memory was foggy ‘bout the whole thing, but he remembered this place for who knows why. He thanked me for the spell that helped him and then bragged about going after Eric – something about payback. Anyway, I think it was Pam who slipped up in the end – seemed to have a soft spot for Spike. Next thing I knew, I’m filming over at the abandoned tobacco factory down on Shute street – took a little corner for a new adult studio – and Spike shows up with Eric tied up in silver.”
Sam interrupts, “Didn’t that factory burn down? Thought it was a lightening strike.”
“It burned down alright, after they ripped it to shreds. Eric must’ve wanted to destroy the evidence of his humiliation. Too short, IMHO. Anyway, Spike had some fun, you know, the way only vampires and psychopaths can. Got some good rants on. Sexy as shit, bein’ all chivalrous.
Flashback in Lafayette’s mind. He doesn’t give Peia this much detail.
“Nothing personal, mate, but you had to know there’d be a price to pay.” Spike, with thick gloves, says, holding a silver coated ball on a chain about the size of a softball with silver spines extruding from its’ surface. “Ooh, this one looks fun.”
“You had not properly claimed her. Technically, I did nothing wrong.” Eric replies.
“You did not properly claim her. Oh my.” Spike says in a sing-song mocking voice “Do I look like I give a fuck about ‘proper’? Or bloody technicalities??” He tosses the silver ball into Eric’s chest.
“If you have a grievance, you can take it up with the Magister.” Eric replies, in obvious pain.
“A grievance? You blackmailed my girlfriend into fucking you, then proceeded to try to turn her.” He screams, indignant. “In all fairness if you’d done that to anyone else’s girlfriend, I’d be all “good on you, mate,” but seeing as she was mine, I really have no choice here. Honor and all that.”
He walks over to the table with various torture devices and starts sorting through them, hastily.
“You know how this will end. You cannot defeat me – do you even have 200 years?”
“I’ve never been one to respect my elders. Ask around. Authority isn’t really my thing.”
He tosses a silver chain mesh onto Eric’s head. Eric grunts in pain.
“Don’t worry, mate. My plan is not to “defeat” you (he hand quotes). You’ve got friends in high places and I don’t need the headache. Just a little payback, is all.”
“I did you a favor.”
“How’s that? Don’t think I heard you right. Let me just get this off…” He takes a long poker and fishes the mesh off of Eric’s face, then stabs him in the side with the poker.
“I did you a favor. You’re not going to go back to her now, are you?” Eric spits through clenched teeth.
“Fuck off. This isn’t for me anyway.”
That was when Pam decided to intervene. She had been there for a while before leaping to Eric’s aid. On some level, she thought he deserved a little punishment and she knew he was in no real danger. She had remarked to Lafayette,
“Spike makes me question my sexuality.”
“Not mine.” Lafayette had responded.
“Pam, you know I can hear you, right?” Eric said, offended.
End flashback
Lafayette continues, “I got the hell out of there once the fighting started – Spike held his own for the bit I saw, but I figured he couldn’t do much against the two of them. That building came down in no time. You seen him since? ”
Peia nods.
“Happy to hear that. Woulda been a shame.”
He was going to say more, but Peia lifts her glass, downs the last of the scotch, slides off her chair and leaves without saying a word.
Sam offers, “You know Peia works for Eric now. They live together.”
“Oh, damn. This may be some shit. I’ll be in the kitchen keepin’ my mouth shut.”
*
Peia walks around for a while before going to Fangtasia. By the time she gets there, it is around 3am – they closed early for some reason. Seeing Pam near the bar, she walks over.
“I need to talk to Eric.”
“I’d wait a bit. He’s downstairs with Tatyana, the new dancer. I knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her, lucky bastard.” Pam says casually.
“Oh. Uh. Right.” Peia is a bit flustered by this, but has no ability to process it.
“You could probably use a break,” Pam offers.
“Did Spike come here?” Peia abruptly asks.
“Sure did, honey. You were with him, remember?” Pam responds as though she is talking to a child.
“After that.”
“Nope. Not that I know about.” She lies without hesitation.
“I didn’t think so. Just heard a rumor. Tell Eric I am going to do some writing. I’ll meet him back at the house at dawn.” Peia says in her most casual tone.
It takes all her mental energy to stop herself from running to the door. Instead, she forces herself to take slow, relaxed steps. As soon as she clears the door, she sets out in a run.
An hour or so later, Tatyana emerges from the basement with a flushed grin. Pam gives her the once over and asks, “Have fun?”
“Yes. It was fantastic.” Tatyana responds a bit suspiciously. She leaves.
Eric emerges from the basement looking pensive.
“Is she is as tasty as she looks?” Pam asks, curious about Eric’s expression.
“Tasted fine. But nothing else went as expected,” he confesses.
“OMG, you glamour fucked her. That bad?”
“Couldn’t let her talk. I do have a reputation to maintain.”
“Maybe its time to go back to redheads,” she offers, minimizing.
“Maybe.”
“Peia was looking for you. Says she’s writing and will meet you at the house at dawn.”
“Did you tell her where I was?”
“Sure. Figured its good for her to know.”
He frowns in annoyance.
“Did she seem upset?”
“No. Just distracted like she gets when she’s writing.”
“Does this require another present?”
“For fucking a stripper? Nah. She needs to learn not to fret the small stuff.”
Eric nods, but is dubious of Pam’s logic. And perhaps a bit disappointed.
Pam adds, “Oh, and she asked about Spike. His second visit.”
“How could she know about that? We glamoured all the human witnesses and Sookie was out of town.”
“Said she heard a rumor. Didn’t seem that bothered when I told her it was wrong.”
Pam suddenly feels a bit guilty, because it was her responsibility to glamour Lafayette, but he had left town and she had forgotten to keep an eye out for his return. She will rectify that tomorrow night if she can. Eric would certainly lose his shit if he knew she had left a witness, so she keeps her tone as neutral as possible. She hates it when he is angry with her.
“Ok.” Eric responds. He accepts Pam’s lack of concern and will try to track down the source of the rumor himself tomorrow.
He returns to the house a while later. It is nearly daylight and he smells only the faint trace of Peia – as if she had been here for a moment, then left again. He picks up his phone and calls her – she hates to be disturbed when she is writing, but he suddenly feels an urgency to be with her and wants to be sure she doesn’t stay out past the sun. The phone rings once in his ear. The second ring, he hears in echo, as the phone is somewhere in the house. He walks toward the sound and finds it lying on their bed. He picks it up, eyes wide, a realization dawning on him. He glances around the room for her bag. It’s gone. He sees evidences of a frantic departure. He rushes to the door, only to be met with the first rays of sunlight burning his eyes. He tries to find her mentally, but feels nothing.
He turns and lets out a loud, angry shout of frustration while grabbing a lamp and smashing it against the kitchen wall.
**
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