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Home Sweet Home	By : xXxDaydreamJunkiexXx Category: S through Z > True Blood Views: 2948 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do NOT own, profit, or pretend to originate True Blood or its characters. All rights belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball.

Chapter List
- 1-Home Sweet Home
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 7
- 8
- 9
"There's small choice in rotten apples."
� William Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew

"That will be all Joan; you may take your leave."
The older plump woman in his employ bowed slightly; her watery brown eyes looking at him with something skin to lust. Bill internally shuddered.
She stood erect and straightened, primping her equally dull brown seven dollar haircut. "Are you sure?"
He evaluated her stout linebacker frame and the rolled knee highs showing from under the hemline of her pencil skirt and nodded vigorously. "Yes, I am very sure."
She pouted in disappointment but turned and swayed her double wide backside out of his office. Bill looked at the door she'd just closed with relief. There seemed to be a shortage of hot young girls in this town and his dick was feeling neglected. But he wasn't that desperate yet.
He pressed the intercom button on his desk, settling for what he could live with. "Harold, you may come in now."
The overly eager young man he'd hired to oversee his legal affairs shuffled in, carrying a stack of papers under his arm and wearing a hundred watt smile. "Hello Sir, I'm glad you could find time to see me on such short notice." Bill returned his grin, only his was predatory. "When someone as competent as you tells me it's important- then I make the time."
Harold preened, running a hand through his short blond hair, while putting his portfolio on the desk in front of a chair. He had the telltale bloom of youth, his cheeks were flushed, and mannerisms very enthusiastic; not having the sense yet to be wary of vampires. "May I?"
Bill made a gesture with his hand at the expensive brown leather seating. "You may."
Both men sat on opposite sides of the massive oak desk.
Bill ran his finger over his lower lip in contemplation; waiting for Harold to speak; his legs crossed under the desk, trying to tame his growing erection. He quirked an eyebrow at him to begin, especially when Harold still hadn’t started talking yet, and just remained smiling, "Oh yes." Harold rushed out blushing. "Sorry, I was just admiring your good taste. This office is incredible. I wish mine was half this well decorated."
Bill smirked. "One does try, but I'm afraid I can't take the credit. Tiffany, my day woman has seen to all my furnishings. I could give you her number if you'd like."
Harold shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "Thanks Sir, but I probably couldn't afford it right now. I'm still paying off student loans."
"Please…call me Bill." He purred before correcting. "When we are alone that is."
Harold's green eyes widened with honor. "Absolutely Sir," He blushed again. "I mean Bill." He adjusted his multi colored neck tie in order to loosen it, finding the air in the large space a little thick all of the sudden. "Then you in turn must call me Harry, all my friends and family do."
"Very well Harry." Bill said with emphasis. "Now that the formalities are out of the way." He finished slowly, placing one of his hands under his desk to fondle his crotch. "What is it you needed to speak with me about?"
"Well, Bill, I've been going over the accounts from overseas pertaining to your recent funds transferred." Harry looked sheepish. "And it would appear there have been some unauthorized withdrawals."
Bill's hazel blue eyes narrowed and the set of his jaw clenched. "When?"
Harry nervously fidgeted his fingers through the stack of invoices in front of him, noticing how the light from the fireplace behind his boss was making his dark brown hair dance with red, yellow, and orange hues. "Precisely two days ago." He shoved the evidence at Bill hurriedly, suddenly aware that an angry vampire could be a potential deadly threat. His hand trembled. "The same night as the 'oddity'."
Harold was referring to the strange occurrence that had swept over a better part of Louisiana; affecting more than ten parishes. People didn't remember exactly what had happened, but there were a lot of unexplained missing persons and destruction, almost like the riots of the sixties, with all its ghostly racial rage, had revisited. Storefronts were vandalized and windows broken, homes trashed with items of value gone, and no-one could recall anything other than a blank spot. Investigators were scouring the areas being sent from the government, and talk of aliens were circulating from everywhere; rampant rumors of abductions, experiments, and probes were scaring the simple town folk into brushing moldy leaves off of old bomb shelters and hiding out, but surprisingly not one finger had been pointed towards the 'recently come out of the coffin'- yet.
"This is no small unauthorized withdrawal. There is almost nothing left."
Bill was using every ounce of control he possessed not to have a full blown tantrum; his nest egg was practically nonexistent. Someone must have thought it funny to leave only the amount of his age in the account, more than five million had been taken. His earlier mindset of glamouring Harry into sucking his cock left his thoughts quicker than a cold shower. Both his hands were in front of him now, elbows propped on the desk, clenching the offensive bank statement like a throat he wanted to choke.
"Bill…" Harry said meekly and afraid.
The civil war veteran and pale white creature that signed his paychecks snapped his eyes away from what he was holding to glare at the young lawyer slash accountant. Harold shrunk into his chair, trying to make himself small enough to disappear.
"That's Mr. Compton from now on- you useless fool." Bill growled.
"Yes Sir, Mr. Compton Sir, I'm sorry." Harry rushed out; feeling like his heart just might beat right out of his ribcage. "They- they- they… have a person of interest on camera…"
Bill expected Harold to finish his sentence, so when he just gulped and shook in his seat, he lost it; jumping up to scream. "Fucking spit it out."
The violent outburst proved too much for Harry; his eyes rolled up into his head and his body twitched a couple times before relaxing, into a massive faint. Bill screamed out furious, swiping half his desk onto the floor and throwing things. His usually well kempt appearance becoming disheveled.
A persistent knock on his office door, getting more urgent, caught his attention. "WHAT!"
His manly secretary Joan let herself in, taking in the scene of the young boy passed out in one receiving chair, and her boss's obvious upset; she walked over a broken desk clock, her pumps crunching gears and glass. She wasn't as effected as poor Harold had been, her age and experience in dealing with assholes, vast over her long career.
"This just arrived from a currier and I thought you might want to see it right away." She said with a droll tone, ignoring the contemptuous look he was giving her. She kicked some papers and a rolodex out of her way, strutting right over to him. "Here," Joan handed him a small package wrapped in brown paper and twine.
Bill pulled the bottoms of his gray sport coat down and stretched his neck from side to side, remembering his southern manners; he smoothed his hair back down and gave Joan a small tight lipped smile. "Thank you." He muttered through his compressed teeth, taking it from her plump hands graciously.
She gave him a curt nod. "Do you wish for me to have Mr. Whitley removed?" Joan glanced at Harold with pity.
Bill attempted to be serene. "That will not be necessary as of now, but if the need arises, I shall send for you."
She nodded again, her brown eyes concerned, while turning on her heel to leave.
"Oh and Joan." Bill called to her as she reached the door, making her stop and look over her shoulder. "Please acquire some donors as soon as possible and send them in."
"As you wish Mr. Compton."
The click of the door shutting with her exit signaled he could relax and think. Bill put the small package on his desk and went to pacing in front of the stone hearth of his fireplace.
This wiping out of his account had seriously impacted his plans and whoever had done it had surely known that. He suspected from the limited list of his enemies who that someone just may be, but the blow was none the less still there; mocking him.
He had been so close to succeeding and now he would have to recalculate everything. The whole point in abducting Jason Stackhouse from those meth headed Hot shot Weres, was to use it as leverage with his Queen; providing him enough time to skip the country, while ensuring that Sookie would go to Sophie Ann willingly in order to protect her brother, after she returned from wherever the hell she had gone. He had hoped that over time, his Queen would forgive his failed attempt on her life. After all, he hadn't done it out of love for the back water barmaid- he'd just wanted that crack candied blood to himself. But sometimes one had to admit defeat and what was not possible. He had no choice but to let Sookie go; if he wanted to live that was. And Bill Compton so did want to live.
"Fuck!" He cursed to himself, his pacing and steps increasing speed.
He had moved his whole operation to this swamp hole in Monroe, and invested a lot of funds already; that money in the Caymans had been just about all he'd had left. He certainly couldn't solely rely on his glamour skills alone, to get him by and survive. He would need the influence of copious amounts of cold hard cash, to back him up and buy human loyalty, when he himself was vulnerable during the day. Besides he'd grown accustomed to a certain quality of living and was not prepared to resort to graveyard hopping. Bill might be young in vampire terms but he was still savvy; having not fallen to the true death so far, when by all occurrences of recent past events, he most surely should have. So all he really needed was a different view or perspective.
"Outside the box." He murmured, once again speaking to himself.
He stopped suddenly in front of the dying fire and grabbed a poker to jostle the embers, when sweet inspiration struck him like a snake. He laughed aloud at his own genius and wanted to kiss himself so badly he could taste it…he would blackmail the one person who couldn't afford for bad publicity or risk the wrath of the AVL- Nan fucking Flannigan!
She had been instrumental in some ways of him embarking on that suicide mission into Mississippi; putting him at the mercy of his cunt Maker once again, all in the name of this greater good or utopian society she'd envisioned; wanting all the ancients to bow down. Well it would appear the bitch owed him didn't she, and Bill would soon collect and then resume with his business as planned. The money was the only snag in the fabric, so replacing it would mean no other changes would be required. He could still use Jason and gift Sookie to Sophie Ann; hopping a plane away from this deep south nightmare and continue on like the King he should be. It was perfect.
He would need to secure another bank account and put greater emphasis on security of course, but those were minor details. Bill turned around with genuine mirth and giddiness, sitting back into his chair and scooting it forward to his desk. He looked at Harry still sleeping before him. "When you wake up, you beautiful David; we shall celebrate."
His idea of celebration would be eight inches deep down the young man's throat, but no matter, in the meantime he would devise the particulars of how this delicate matter with Nan would be executed. Bill went to straighten up the haphazard state of his desk, when the package Joan had brought in to him caught his eye.
"Curious." He thought out loud, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. There was no return address.
He shrugged unconcerned and pulled open a drawer; retrieving a letter opener, to pluck the twine free so he could unwrap it.
After all the brown paper was torn and the box revealed, he was even more stumped. It was a shoe box- an expensive Manolo Blahnik shoe box. He hadn't need for ladies shoes, so perhaps, as the box was feather light, that wasn't what was contained inside. Bill lifted the lid and pushed the red tissue paper aside. He paused in shock.
A scent he was all too familiar with wafted up to his nostrils. His cock went ramrod straight and his fangs plunged forth with throbbing ache and intensity.
"Sookie." He moaned out with a slur, his tongue heavy and sluggish.
His hands lifted up a single pair of white panties still drenched at the crotch with her juices. Bill smothered his face to them and inhaled over and over again, his drool mixing in with cotton. He would have started fucking them too, hadn't the thought of who had sent them, sobered his lust some. Bill reluctantly pulled them away from his face and put them on his lap; once again leering into the box.
Only one other item was inside, and once Bill pulled it out; all previous gloating fled and he was once again screaming and jumping out of his chair, truly outraged.
A bumper sticker with a logo he knew all too well, was giving him the middle finger and a warning, he'd have to be an idiot not to comprehend.
Fangtasia~ The Bar with Bite!
So Northman knew where his hideout was and he also had Sookie.
Well now Bill didn't need to speculate or investigate further who'd been behind his emptied account. He hadn't a doubt either, that Eric must also know he had Jason and was just toying with him before the kill.
Bill Compton couldn't help but wonder though, with stark dread, how much time, is any, he'd left to prepare. He could barely contain his composure when Joan opened his door once again; four donors in step behind her.
He shakily replied before the woman could speak. "That will do."
She picked up on the implied dismissal, and without response, left the office once more; considering a raise was in order after tonight.
He looked over the 'slim pickings' his secretary had obtained for him, as somewhat of a last meal; wanting to cry and suck his thumb like a child in need of comfort. Because knowing the Viking like he did…his time was already up.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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