The characters of the Southern Vampire Mysteries belong to Miss Charlaine Harris. No infringement on my part is intended. The characters on True Blood belong to Mr. Alan Ball. No infringement on my part is intended.
I have no BETA, editor, or other such charming person. All mistakes are my own.
This story is rated M
When your maker is The Viking and he has perhaps hauled your trouble-making ass out of New Orleans more than once or even twice, you had a tendency to not announce your presence in said town.
Pamela was presently down in a culvert at the corner of Arabella and Patton. Monitoring the crowd above her, humans were out and about and a Were Wolf or two took their smelly asses past while they discussed howling rights.
For such a wonderful child as herself, it had been a busy new dark. Upon rising, she had come straight to this bar in a disguise and smelling slightly of coal oil. Which was the best vampire blocking smell in the world.
The New Orleans true to the trade old-time witches still cast spells in the light of a coal oil lamp. Candles were only practical if you lived where there were no drafts. Unless you catered to the Hollywood crowd, your lifestyle reflected your beliefs and so did your pocketbook. Chances were good your home lacked air conditioning and due to the windows being open it was a bit drafty.
“Glad it is not going to rain,” she said to the rat that was carefully inspecting her. “And you should be thankful as well. Get a gator down in here and he would eat a rat on a whim,” she said with an all-knowing voice. “I have seen them do it.”
The rat blinked and looked around and moved in closer to her.
“You think I am going to protect your furry ass?” she asked.
The rat inched in closer to her as his eyes once more looked around and then chattered at her.
“Really?” she arched an eyebrow at him. “You expect me to believe you were on the dock when that boat blew up?”
There was more rat gossip as Pamela played close attention. “Well, okay then. We have a deal. You keep watch on my six. If a gator makes his way in, I’ll kill it and the feast is yours.”
With a nod of his head, the rat went back to minding the tunnel, hoping for the meal of several life times.
Pam was all about attention to detail. The smallest thing is what always saved your ass or made your outfit unforgettable. Anything that was out-of-place was suspect and noted. And that included wearing the wrong pumps while carrying an even wronger handbag. Posers abounded!
The witches that had given them problems in Shreveport had left behind a book of matches at one of their fires. The matches had originated from the Witches’ Mead and Thyme. A local Wicca hangout in New Orleans that was not for tourists. Which is why she was here playing spy and chatting up a rat. She had done her homework. This was a low-key, off the tourist route selfie photo opportunity, bar and herbalist. This is where the witches came to unwind, chat, and bitch in general amongst their own kind.
Having gone in earlier, she had planted a few listening and viewing devices and now her mobile phone was eavesdropping on everyone in the room. As the dark progressed, business was picking up and the day was forgotten as the whisky was poured and the women discussed just how well HRM and managed to fuck it up for everyone.
“It is so good to be the child of The Viking,” Pam smiled as she watched the covens gather for a drink and rub herbals between their hands in a cleansing ritual.
Apparently, because of the Feds, it had been a slow day on the streets of New Orleans. There was plenty of bitching about low revenues, cold feet, colder asses and the fact that the bar had raised the price on all their single malts, forcing some of them to drink blended whiskys.
“I should have such a day,” she snickered. “If I was to double the price of the top shelf alcohol, the fangbangers would all have heart-attacks and just drink beer.
The witches just complain and order doubles. Damn, we need a different breed of clientele.
Oh, now that’s interesting,” she smiled as she watched the Weres that had passed her enter the establishment. They settled at the bar and also ordered whisky. “Since when,” she snickered, “do Weres spend that kind of money on alcohol? Well, when someone else is buying of course.”
A woman entered and headed straight for them. Making a gesturing motion with her hand at the barkeep, all three headed toward the stairs and then disappeared.
With a hop Pam was now standing on street level, hoping to see if a light turned on in a room that she could see. The windows were shuttered but she could see a match spring to life and a candle being lit.
Then Were shit just continued to happen. The bell on the shop door rang and looking at her phone, none other than Bill Compton stepped through and headed up stairs.
“Listen,” she said to the rat, “you do this for me and I will purchase for you whatever you want. I will get you to that wall, but I need you to climb it and listen in at the window for me.”
There was a squeak of agreement.
“I have to stay hidden. But I will be listening for you. Make it to the ground and I will be around to get you.” Picking her wingman up, they were across the street and Mr. Rat was climbing up the brick wall. Finding a comfortable spot on the window ledge, he settled in and started making his list of durable goods while he listened in to the conversations.
Pam was back down in the culvert with her phone in text mode. Just saw Compton in a bar in New Orleans. WTF? Have spy listening in. More to follow.
Then she hit send.
There was a party going on in the kitchen! Lafayette and O.I. were the stars of the show while Miss Adele and Scully were now making eyes at each other.
“Will not be long before they excuse themselves, “ Eric thought to himself. He wished to be excused also! Sookie had been holding his hand and lightly rubbing her fingers on top of his! Occasionally he would make a fist and grasp one while she pulled it in and out of the well-fitting cavity he had made for it.
His phone was vibrating madly in his pocket. The only time it did that was when Pamela called.
Taking his phone out, he read her message then read it again.
“Excuse me,” he kissed Sookie lightly. “I have to take this.”
Walking into her bedroom, he closed the door and sent another text message. Director. Compton is out and has been spotted in New Orleans. WTF?
Hitting send, the message was on its way.
Benjamin Castle was hosting a sit down dinner for twelve. Nothing big or fancy, but once a month he had his friends over for a wine tasting followed on by a homey by nice dinner. Tonight it was stuffed, baked salmon. Not difficult or taxing to put together. But with a great big lemon wedge, steamed broccoli and an Asian salad, it was good eating at its best.
Vibrating in his jacket pocket was his phone. Three shakes, two shakes, one shake, he carefully counted. Well shit, it was Northman!
“I have to take this,” he smiled, standing. “Should just be a moment.”
Walking into his study, he closed the door and opened the text.
“What the fuck?” he hissed and then punched in a number.
“Director, I can explain,” a bureaucrat’s voice began. “Senator Bilcox and the committee agreed with Compton’s plea bargain to turn him loose and he would lead us to his maker and who knows what other terrorists she is making deals with.”
“Fucking Were shit,” he hissed. “I want Bilcox and his committee in my office first thing in the morning.”
Hitting end with more force that necessary, he hissed, “Fucking Were shit,” he growled as he typed into his phone.
He made a deal with the Supernatural Committee stating he would lead them to his maker. When you find him, I leave him in your hands.
Eric read the message and did some silent swearing, himself. Walking back to the kitchen, he stuck his head in and motioned to Samuel.
When the others regarded him, he smiled and shook his head.
Sitting down in the living room he began. “They cut Compton loose. They believed him when he said he would lead them to his maker.
Pam spotted him in New Orleans. She has someone listening in on Compton right now. As soon as that conversation is over, she will get back to me.”
“I have this,” Samuel nodded. “I’ll start tracking the money flow.”
“Thanks,” Eric smiled at his brother and hugged him. “Who the fuck knows where that monster Lorena, is? At one time they were enamored of the Pacific Northwest. They terrorized British Columbia for a couple of decades before they moved on to upper state New York.
But as much trouble as Lorena is in, I think her first inclination would be to head home. Where she is the most comfortable and feels the safest.”
“Hm-m-m,” Samuel replied, going through his files. “Very nice of Bill to do this who is whom in the vampire world for us. Apparently he was turned by Lorena in a log cabin at the end of the Civil War.
He says here he fought valiantly in the Battle of Nashville. So he would have made his way home through Mississippi and on into Louisiana. That would have been the shortest distance. Her cabin would be somewhere along this route.
I am looking,” Samuel said, concentrating on the screen, “for something a bit more palatial, along this track, today. Some plantation off the beaten path just a bit, where she would have purchased the land and built something a bit more to show off her now moneyed status.
And I believe I have found it. It is in Shelby County, Tennessee. On the Tennessee, Mississippi border, just south of Memphis. This land has been in the Zultan family since before the Civil War. Still belongs to a family member today. The new home is on the original log cabin site and is built-in the antebellum Federal style and furnished as such with period antiques. Some coming from the original family home in Budapest.”
“Interesting,” Eric grinned. “What else?”
“Looking through the permits, blueprints, etc., it is all couched in vampire legalize. If she is not the owner, it is her sister.”
“One moment please,” Eric had out his phone, “while I forward this information.
Oh, wait one. Information from Pamela.”
Compton literally ran though the meeting with the witches. He tells them the deal is off. He is leaving the country. His parting shot to them. You would still have your money if you had buried it in your backyard. He then jumped out a window.
I am on the move. Will have a photo of the witches. See you with the new dark.
A few moments later, Eric’s phone beeped again and opening the file, there were indeed photos. Five nude women sat at a table with a shocked look on their faces. Pam had obviously used a flash.
Showing it to Samuel, all the small vampire could do was shake his head.
There was one happy rat sitting in the culvert at the corner of Arabella and Patton. He was surrounded by a wall of donuts, oatmeal cookies and bags of marshmallows; a deep dish cheese pizza and a bowl of tequila. And not the cheap stuff. He had drunk the cheap stuff. Left him with double vision and an upset stomach. And that was saying something. After all, he was a rat.
Easing his way into another bag of marshmallows, he grinned. He would eat until he could not consume another bite. And who knew when that would be. Alcohol always gave him the munchies.
All during his meal, Ben Castle felt his phone going off and had to excuse himself to take the message. With Eric’s last text, he fired off a few of his own.
Open the file on Bilcox. Send me everything.
That information bounced right back to him. Castle skimmed through it all. It was easy. Bilcox was a wanna be vampire. A please turn me fangbanger of the worst sort. Punching in a code, the miniscule silver particles were now being dumped into the Senator’s water supply, both at home and in his office. All his buddy-buddy vampire friends would smell the silver and would now keep their distance. There would be no snacking, no turning or late night deals for the good senator. There just might, however, be a fatal accident. The vamps would smell the silver and wonder just who he had pissed off and why? They were a suspicious lot and hated a traitor. Bilcox’s days just might be coming to an end.
Eric was still standing and talking to Samuel when Sookie stuck her head out. “What’s up?”
“Compton has been released on the promise that he lead the Feds to his maker. Pamela just saw him in New Orleans with some witches. Apparently, he cheated them out of some money. They were perhaps investors in the arms cache or not. That is yet to be determined.”
“We are still going to London,” Sookie nodded. “Hey guys,” she stuck her head back into the kitchen. “New development. Compton is on the run and we are still going to London.”
“Give us the story and the juicy parts,” Lafayette said coming out, O.I. perched on his shoulder and both of them carrying a shot of tequila.
“This night is never going to fucking end,” Eric sighed to himself, smiled and indicated everyone was to sit.
“Mo fo’n,” O.I. kept muttering as Eric told the story. “Sorry assed witches,” his right eye would twitch, purple lights would flash from it and then he would shake all over as the intricate details were explained.
“Knew nasty assed evil in the First Age, my big man’s and me did. No wonder you wokes me up,” his voice was filled with righteousness. “Old nasty assed evil from the First Age is still walkin’ the earth!” he hissed as Eric passed around the photo of the naked witches.
“Well,” Gran nodded. “O.I., I am glad you are here now with Lafayette. You two are brothers. That makes you my grandson. So from now on, you just call me Gran.
Now,” she smiled sweetly, “I know our gentleman callers are required to rest during the day. We will be counting on you, O.I. and our Lafayette to keep evil at bay.”
“A pleasure, my dearest Gran,” he smiled as he picked up her hand and kissed it, his toothy smile filling his face. “My big man’s and me, we are up to any task. We are old hands at defeatin’ the evil one, it will be our pleasure to toast her ugly naked ass minions back into the most fiery of the abysses.”
“Her?” Sookie squeaked.
“Mo fo’n,” O.I. bowed deeply and placed another kiss on Adele’s hand before he picked up Sookie’s and placed a kiss there. “That fallen angel, she was one ugly assed, disrespectful, foul-mouthed bitch. Pardon me, fair ladies, while I done rolls my eyes.
Perhaps a story for another time,” he placed another kiss on Sookie’s hand and fluttered back to Lafayette. “I can see our Gran is gettin’ tired and it is bad manners to keep my hosts up past their bed times.”
“Well,” Gran smiled, “I think Scully and I could relax for a bit before he must disappear for the day.”
“Indeed Gran,” O.I. bowed.
“Scully,” she smiled at him as she stood. “Won’t you please join me for a while.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said, rising slowly, a pleased yet shocked look on his face.
Taking his hand, they headed toward her bedroom. When they heard the door close, Sookie grinned. “He looked kinda scared.”
“It has probably been a while,” Eric said smothering a laugh. “But I think he probably remembers.”
“Well all right then,” Sookie nodded. “Is it impolite to sit out here and talk or should we…?”
There was a low moan that came from the back of the house followed by a woman’s hysterical laugher that tapered off into something that sounded like a big cat in heat.
“Eric,” Sookie cut her eyes to him. “I know you have been on your phone…does that mean you have work yet to do?”
“Sadly,” Eric nodded. “My child, Pamela, is out and about and keeping me in the loop. She is the one that spotted Compton. She said she will see me with the new dark, but I know her so very well. She will do something very naughty before she leaves New Orleans and then head for home, with whom or what following her is a guess.”
“You mentioned Pam,” Sookie said.
“I made her vampire,” Eric explained. “Thus, she is my child. Sometimes I regret that. Correction, most of the time I regret that.”
“Never a dull moment,” Samuel grinned. “The fair Pamela has a wardrobe that the rich and famous would envy and is a shoe whore. I have actually seen her glamour a Hollywood starlet on opening night and take the shoes right off her feet.”
“Oh,” Lafayette shook his finger. “One night at the Grammy’s, that singer came up to get her award and she was bare assed naked. Somewhere between the red carpet and the bathroom in the auditorium, she lost her dress.”
“Yes,” Eric pasted on a tight little smile. “Those big award shows are some of her best nights of the year.”
“You are kidding?” Sookie asked swallowing a chuckle.
“No,” Eric sighed. “Pamela has her own idea of who’s got talent. If someone wins an award that she does not approve of…,” Eric shook his head. “It does not end well. And if you happen to have good taste and be her size, let’s just say she considers that a bonus and refers to it as grave robbing.”
“It was a mistake to take her tomb raiding with us,” Samuel nodded.
“Indeed,” Eric sighed. “Lover,” he pulled Sookie into his lap. “You know how much I want to stay. I will be back with the new dark.”
“I will walk you out,” Sookie ran her finger down his nose.
“I will meet you at the club,” Samuel smiled. “Miss Sookie,” he bowed his head, “rest well this evening.”
They all heard the front door open and felt the breeze.
Eric stood up with Sookie in his arms. When they were on the porch he closed the door and she wrapped herself around him.
“Can you do a quickie?” she asked as she kissed his face.
“Yes,” was all he said as he unzipped his pants and lifted her skirt. Pushing past her panties he was in as she wiggled against him like minnows darting through the water.
“Mm-m,” he grunted when he felt her shudder. Arching her neck, he licked her vein until it danced in his mouth and then he bit. After the third pull, he closed the wound but left her impaled on him.
“I know,” she let her legs slide down his body. “You have to go.”
“Fucking Were shit,” he muttered. “Can I tell you this was not how I had this evening planned.”
“Make it up to me,” she grinned as her feet hit the floor and he was no longer inside of her.
“I will. Now, in you go,” he kissed her again as he opened the door and patting her on the butt pushed her inside.
“O.I.,” Eric regarded the dragon as he stepped into the warmth of the living room. “Compton is afoot. His home was across the graveyard. It does not mean that he will be back this way to take one final look, does not mean that he won’t. I leave the family in your ever watchful care.”
“Of course Mr. Eric,” the dragon smiled, this time in what could only be a nasty grin. “We is all business, all the time. That mo’ fo’r comes this way do you want me to save him for you?”
“If you would be so kind,” Eric bowed his head. “Until the new dark.” Kissing Sookie one more time then rubbing his nose against hers, he was gone.
“I am goin’ upstairs and puttin’ my headphones on and listenin’ to some music until I fall asleep or it gets quiet enough down here not to be embarrassed,” she said grinning.
“I thinks my little man’s and me, we shall just sit out on the porch swing for a bits with the bottle of tequila and we shall talk the most excellents talk.”
“Sound’s good,” Sookie nodded. Hugging Lafayette goodnight, and kissing O.I. on the snout, she was humming a Christmas carol. As she climbed the stairs, with each footfall, there was an “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” When she reached the top of the stairs, there was a deep, guttural, soul satisfying scream. Maybe two. Maybe male and female.
“Get some Gran,” she grinned as she closed her door, got ready for bed and the headphones were not needed. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Eric was walking into the back door of Fangtasia at the same time as Pamela. “Perfect timing,” she said as Samuel pushed open the door from the inside and held it open for both of them.
“Brother Samuel…!” and you could hear the surprise in her voice.
“My brother’s child,” Samuel smiled at her and bowed his head as they entered.
“Yes Child,” Eric continued on, “no matter what you said about staying in New Orleans, I knew you would not be able to stay away with all the news you relayed tonight.”
“Damn Eric,” she took a delicate sniff, “who is she and when do I get to meet her and has Samuel already met her?”
Arching both eyebrows at her, Eric closed the door and followed her to her office. “Yes to Samuel and Sookie having met. So has Crankshaft.”
“What?” she eyed both of them as she unlocked her door. “Is the apocalypse upon us? Compton is actually able to talk his way out of his fucked up shit and Old Cranky knows my maker’s favorite meal before I do?”
“You have heard the stories about London’s Angel of Green Garden?” Samuel asked.
“Yes, of course,” Pam nodded as she sat behind her desk and Eric and Samuel sat down in the chairs in front of her.
“That was Crankshaft,” Samuel said gently.
Pam’s eyes got wide.
“The woman that I am seeing is one of his blood family,” Eric added.
“What?” Pam gasped.
“During the bombings he saved five thousand souls. To most he gave a drop of blood to save their lives or to quell their fears. For whatever reason,” Samuel said, “it is done.”
Eric nodded. “Adele Stackouse’s mother was a recipient. Adele, this is the woman Scully is now seeing. And I am seeing Sookie, her grand-daughter.”
Pam leaned forward, shock on her face.
“Yes,” Eric nodded. “That Sookie. These two women are Scully’s blood family and you will show respect and honor this relationship.”
“Yes, of course,” Pam replied veneration in her voice. “How is he doing?”
Eric smiled. “He is pleased and scared and overjoyed and the last time I saw him, Miss Adele was leading him away to her bedroom and he was blushing from his neck to his hair-line.”
Grinning, Pam nodded. “Good for him. I am glad…” she hesitated. “I am happy for him. I tried to…to fill some small part of that void in his life. He just always seemed so alone. Not despairing because of it. But alone and forgotten unless HRM wanted some amusement so she used him to abuse.
I am most pleased for him.” And in her voice was good cheer.
“Good,” Eric nodded. “Most good. We are going to London for Christmas. Do you wish to attend with us?”
Pam looked at her maker, trying to gauge what was going on in that brain of his.
“Witches, Were Wolves and stockings hung by the fireplace,” she replied slowly. “And humans that shall abide in the company of Eric Northman. Sounds like trouble to me.”
“And tea at the Savoy,” Samuel added.
“Oh… damn,” she sighed. “I love the Savoy at Yuletide. I mean I fucking love it….as apposed to Fangtasia at Yuletide. Can I tell you how much I fucking hate that.”
Eric eyed his child. “Leave people in charge.”
“Merrily,” she wrinkled her nose at him. “And a ho ho ho thrown in for good measure.”
“Child before I forget, there is one more thing. Sookie has a brother, Lafayette. He has a twin, a dragon.”
“What!” she jumped up out of her chair and was now standing in front of Eric.
“Brother Samuel?” she looked at him and then back at her maker. “Is he funnin’ with me? There was that time about the trolls in Iceland.”
“No to the funning, child,” Samuel grinned. “Dragon. Fire, smoke, pointed teeth, long tail and neck. Most assuredly, a dragon.”
“That explains it,” she nodded. “Why you left the happy family and came here to get the dirt from me. With Compton on the loose, I could not believe you would leave your prize unguarded. No offense to Old Cranky. But a dragon…” she breathed out. “Can…I mean may I meet him? Please? Pretty please?”
“Seriously?” Eric asked, surprise in his voice.
“My gawd Eric,” she spewed. “It’s a dragon!”
“It might be like the trolls. I could be feeding you wolf cookies.”
“You are not. I know it,” she replied nodding her head vigorously. “Right Brother Samuel? Dragon, fire-breathing, one each.”
“That is correct,” Samuel smiled.
Eric stared at her to make his point. “If the family is still up, that is one thing, but if the house is dark…” Eric cautioned her.
“Of course. Sleeping yummy humans. Dragon who breathes fire. I know how to behave.”
Eric laughed out loud. “That would be a first. Samuel, will you be joining us?”
“Have work to do,” he grinned. “You two go ahead. I am tracing Compton and his maker through the ages. Once I identify the current members of the coven, my work will begin in earnest.”
“Most excellent,” Eric stood and hugged his brother. “Until our return.
Child, we are out the door.”
“My big man’s,” O.I. said taking a drag on the cigarillo, “we has incomin’s. High rate of speed. Vampire. One is Mr. Eric, the other has his blood. Most be his child Pam.”
“Well all right then,” Lafayette nodded, “let us meet the rest of the family.”
When Eric turned me to vampire, I thought there could never be anything more spectacular than that. There could be nothing more profound or special then my maker.
I placed him so far up on that pedestal of respect and gratefulness, that there was nothing more to this life than him.
I might have been wrong about that…
There on a porch swing of an old farmhouse sits a black male…
Granted, this dragon is not very big. And he is smoking one of those cheap assed cigarillos and yet drinking expensive tequila. It smells like Rey Sol Anejo. I would know. I just purchased a bottle of that for a rat.
I can see his purple eyes from here. In the dark they look like stars. You can see the slight red glow from the fire through his nostrils.
Really? Is he wearing gold nail polish on his talons?
I think he is the most handsome thing I have ever seen…what? Is Eric speaking to me?
“Good to see you again this evenin’ Mr. Eric,” Lafayette said rising.
“This is my child, Pamela Swynford De Beaufort. Child, this is Lafayette Reynolds and the king of the dragons, O.I.”
“Pleased,” Lafayette nodded and stood.
“No, no need, please stay comfortable,” Pam took a step forward. “If we might approach?”
“Of course,” Lafayette still stood and put out his smoke.
“Most pleased,” O.I. blew a stream of fire and his cigarillo turned to ash as he took flight.
“Fair lady,” he smiled at her and raised her hand to his lips for a kiss. “What does bring you out at such an odd hour of the night in such a distant and yet distinct land?”
“I wanted to see a dragon,” she blurted out. “And I wondered if you had a dragon treasure horde and…and…I wanted to see a dragon,” she said breathlessly.
“My big man’s,” O.I. turned his head toward Lafayette who was now approaching them. “Do we has a treasure horde?”
“We has got the good and righteous advance monies Mr. Eric gave us for writtin’ a best seller. I gots a few pieces of this and that’s but nothin’s you could call a treasure horde.”
“Sadly,” O.I. once more turned his attention on Pam, “no treasure horde.”
“That’s,” she was intently studying his face. “That’s okay. I mean, really…you really are a dragon. I thought you would be bigger.”
“How big do you want me to be?” he asked.
“What?” she gasped.
“I can shift sizes. Also shapes. But I am the most comfortable in my original form and this size pleases me. I can be worn as a piece of jewelry if that is desired. I also can sit comfortably on my big man’s shoulder.”
“Please,” Eric was doing his best to keep a straight face. “Pamela just wanted to meet O.I. Why don’t you move back to the porch and we will be on our way. I know the rest of the house is sleeping and we do not wish to wake them. So before Pamela breaks into a song and dance from the roof of the house, we wish you a very good remainder of this old dark.”
“A pleasure,” Lafayette said bowing his head.
“Most assuredly a pleasure,” O.I once more brought her hand to his lips.
“Yes,” she nodded.
“Please give our regards to the ladies of the house,” Eric said. “And tell them I shall see them with the new dark. Until then, adieu.”
As they settled back onto the porch swing, O.I. brought his face around even with Lafayette’s. “My big man’s, do we need us a treasure horde?”
“No,” Lafayette grinned. “It is just that stories about dragons all seem to include a vast quantity of treasure. They sleep on it. Line their nests with it and their underbellies because that is where they are the most vulnerable.”
“Really?” O.I. said looking at his stomach. “I am the same same everywhere.”
“Yous La La says yes and yes but no one knows so we just thinks what might be. But the pictures in the books, they sure ‘nuff got those right.”
“Huh,” O.I. grunted. “Must be a race memory,” he said, looking thoughtful, picking up his glass while Lafayette refilled it.
“Must be, ‘cause there are sure ‘nuff some carvin’s of you and your relatives all ‘bouts this floatin’ blue orb that we calls sweetest of homes.
We are goin’ to London for the Christmas holidays, we shall be on the lookouts!” he said with gusto.
“Will we be needin’ a treasure horde for London?” O.I. asked. “I mights be able to locate one or two. Remember old Lambert. He kept jewels. Liked to wash them down in the creek before a battle.”
“I gots you, my little man’s. My family is now complete. His La La Fineness says he needs nothin’ else.”
“So it shall be,” O.I. raised his glass in a toast. “Here is to family, you and me.”
“Family, you and me,” Lafayette echoed. “And London, at Christmas.”
Fangtasia was closed. Eric and Samuel were working code breaking in Eric’s office.
She was not doing anything. Not one thing. She had commanded her mind to shut down and so it had. For five minutes she allowed herself to be at rest.
Her internal clock told her when five minutes was up. Standing, she opened her door and vamp speed was down the hall and out into the club, screaming at the top of her lungs and pinging off everything! Even the top shelf alcohol was not safe from her dancing feet as her toes tipped merrily though the expensive stuff!
“Who knew?” Eric said to Samuel as he continued imputing code into his laptop.
“Seriously,” the small vampire chuckled as he ran his newest string of numbers.
“Thar be dragons,” Eric smiled then got serious. “What is that sound?”
“She is going vamp speed around the dancing pole. You know, hanging on with both hands, her legs straight out in the air, spinning with all her might.”
“Sounds like a tornado,” Eric replied. “Oh no…!” he was up and moving as Samuel grabbed both lap tops and ducked under the desk as things began to fly about the room.