Talk to Me
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.
All Hallow’s Eve. The one night a year all the vampires tried to stay home. Instead they were working because the bitch of Eternal Winter could not keep her pale, undead ass in Russia.
The parking lot at Fangtasia was full. The armor plated Suburban kept circling the parking lot. The driver was not looking for a parking spot. Queen Catherine was getting “the lay of the land.”
“That Romanoff,” she huffed, “he said Eric had built a smaller version of my summer palace. What an ass kissing liar! I am going to rip his heart out when I get home. Or better yet, place the call, tell him to get his ass on a plane. I want to rip it out while I am standing here and he is explaining to me how this Gothic madness in any way resembles my summer cottage! There is no charm here, whatsoever. It is just dark and foreboding. And I hate gargoyles! Those damnable French! I would like to rip their gargouilles out and put them on their roofs to act as water spouts!”
Richard sat with his hands relaxed by his side. He had long ago mastered the art of tranquil self-containment around her. Many had met their true death who had not. His maker was on a rant and it would be death to anyone who thought to pacify her.
There was not one sound in the auto. No movement. Fortunately, the car was so well soundproofed, that the merry making in the parking lot heading into the club was not being heard in the car. So much fun and cheerfulness out there! So much death and destruction inside the auto! Richard just sat staring straight ahead out the window. They had thirty Weres on the ground along with a dozen vampires that were patrolling and would be reporting in. Then….when they moved inside…well, things would perhaps get better. Slowly during the evening, their one hundred vamps would enter and those that backed The Viking would disappear.
There was Popov, now, approaching them. Her screaming was over. He just might live if he spoke to her now.
“My Queen,” Richard began, “Popov is here. Would you like a report at this time?”
“Yes,” she nodded and kicked the seat in front of her. “Yes, I would. Have them stop the car so that I might speak with him.”
Richard gave the command to the driver and the big lumbering beast came to a slow stop.
Rolling down the window, Richard motioned him forward.
“They are checking I.D.’s,” the vamp began. “They have Weres working at the podiums, running the machines. Also at the doors. So we cannot glamour them. You must have a photo I.D. or you will not be allowed entrance. The theme for this All Hallow’s Eve is indeed the Roaring Twenties. No masks are allowed.”
“Well,” she huffed, “just as they said on their web site. What trickery is this? Eric now tells the truth about what he wants? He just puts it all out there for anyone to read that would like to come to his club? This is madness! He has grown far too trusting. It is a good thing we are here to take him home. We are saving him from himself and those that would take advantage of him!”
“Heads up,” Alcide said into his headset. “Looks like they are parking. We have incoming. I will be at the kiosk that they use.”
“Excellent,” Pam replied. “We are closing the doors. They are going to have to knock to gain entrance. The lads on the dragon boat are overjoyed that they get first contact.”
The Russian contingent approached, picking the line closest to the main entrance. Alcide stepped in and Magellan stepped away. “I.D., please and look at the camera,” the packmaster said.
“What?” Richard remarked. “You are photographing us?”
“No,” Alcide replied, “just running you through the data base. Making sure you are who your I.D. says you are.”
“No,” he replied, haughtily. “I shall not!”
“Then move out of line and take yourself someplace else,” the Were replied.
“But I have a ticket!” he shot back, thrusting it at Alcide.
“I can see that,” he replied as if speaking to a two-year-old. “Before you purchased the ticket, you had to agree to the consent form at the bottom of the page. So either show me your I.D. and look at the camera or move on.”
“Or what?” he snickered.
A silver net fell out of the sky and took Richard down to the ground, while he screamed in pain! “I am the King of New York,” he bellowed.
“Don’t give a fuck,” Alcide replied. “Felix and Butch, pull this cocksucker out of the way so our next guest may come forward.”
Catherine was amused as she watched her child being dragged across the sidewalk. The silver was removed and he was picked up and thrown away from the building.
“Good,” she nodded. “Very good. Nice to see Eric has not lost all sense of responsibility. First round goes to The Viking,” she grinned. “Richard,” she turned and addressed him. “Get back in line and act accordingly.”
The vampire stood up, brushing dirt, real or imagined off his tux and advanced forward.
Once more, he was standing in front of Alcide. “I believe this is my best side,” he smiled politely as he handed him the ticket. “Just straight on, we are not running mug shots,” he replied as the light flashed green on his reader. “Through the doors,” he nodded with his head. “Knock first.”
“Knock first?” Richard huffed.
“Like in the old speakeasys,” Alcide replied. “You knock, the small panel in the door opens, you either pass muster or you do not.”
“I thought I had already passed muster,” he responded, sounding a bit confused.
“They are going to invite you in. Do not make this difficult. Just play along.”
“Oh, okay,” he nodded as he approached the doors, he paused for a moment.
There was one of the largest door knockers he had ever in his long life seen! It was exquisite! It was solid brass! It was a Viking longboat with the crew at the oars and a whale for the strike plate!
Raising it and letting it drop, a sharp tap sounded in the air! Richard was so entranced looking at the men on the boat, where they appeared to be rowing, he struck again.
“Once was enough,” the whale called out and then blew water out his blowhole, all over Richard.
Sputtering and taking a step back, the small speakeasy door opened and there, looking at him through the grate was a pair of orange eyes.
“Speak,” the gruff voice said.
“Eric sent me,” Richard replied, hoping that was the right answer.
“Enter,” he heard as the door opened and Richard, smelling like month old krill and stagnant salt water, walked in.
“Wow!” Greer, the Were in charge of the door mumbled into the headset. “We have incoming. You should be able to track this fucker easily the rest of the evening.”
“That is the plan,” Pamela chuckled. “Month old sushi left out in the heat be thy name.”
Catherine approached next. Handing Alcide her passport she smiled prettily as she looked into the camera. “Do you head Eric’s security?” she asked.
“No ma’am,” he replied, “I just work the door on big occasions,” as he checked her vitals. “There is your green light. Knock and give them the secret code,” he smiled politely at her.
“Eric sent me,” she grinned and clapped her hands, together.
“That will get you in,” he said with a bigger smile and tipped his head to her.
As she approached the door, the Vikings on the boat began to shout encouragement and beat their swords against their shields! There were lots of wolf whistles and “Yo-o-o-o momma, bring your hot self on over here! We have got some brass that you can rub! Just run that dainty little finger over any brass bulge that looks appealing to you! And they call us a big knocker. Would you just look at that set on her! Come on over her momma and rub those against us and polish up our brass! No need for Brasso! We come with our own!”
Catherine was laughing and enjoying the show. “Did Eric put you up to this?”
“Baby, Eric does not get us up! Feel us up, woman! We can see your nipples! Just go ahead and brush those across us!”
“You are some very bad Vikings,” she cooed at them.
“We can show you bad!” they whistled and beat their swords again!
Raising the door knocker, she let it abruptly fall when she felt several somethings wet squirt onto her hand!
“Yeah!”they were yelling and waving, “feeling much better down here! We dropped anchor!”They were stomping their feet and high fiving each other.
Looking at her hand she then looked at them. “Did…did…?” she sputtered.
“Wash your hands well before you wipe your privates!” they shouted. “You would have a hard time telling which one of us was the proud poppa!”
Before she could score a pithy comeback, the speakeasy door opened.
“Eric sent me,” she said.
The both the front doors opened and Richard was standing there, waiting for her. “You stink like a fishwife!” she said fanning her nose. “Hold still,” she growled at him as she wiped her hand on one of his tux’s tails.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Viking cum I think,” she replied with a straight face and then chuckled. “The look on your face,” she patted his check.
Richard looked over his shoulder, attempting to assess the damage.
“Oh stop it,” she frowned at him. “The front of you is wet and ripe. I have known fish wives that smelled sweeter. That tux is ruined, anyway. Me using it for a towel is not going to make any difference. Eric is having his fun tonight. I am sure the entire club is tricked out with this and that. All fanciful things to make us laugh.”
“I am not laughing,” Richard said to her.
“Well start. As your maker, I command it,” she smiled fluttering her hand! “Oh, here comes our hostess now to show us to our seat! Would you just look at the legs on that one! I wonder if she dates? Or can be glamoured? Or wants to come home with me and rule Russia.”
Richard’s eyes bugged out for a second and glanced over at her.
“Oh you poor heart-broken child. You know I am kidding about the ruling part. I rule Russia,” she said, her voice low, a fixed smiled on her face with her fangs peeking down.
“I never doubted,” he replied as he followed her to their table. “Not for one fucking minute…” he thought as he began to look around him. He had never been here before and yet the place looked oddly familiar.
“Why are you looking so serious?” she chided him when she sat down. “I have commanded you to laugh and make merry.”
“This all looks familiar. There was a party in a chateau in Switzerland. Monthey was the only village around at the time. The house was finely appointed and had many luxuries. To include a Roman steam bath, which I believe was original to the building. What struck me was the place was old. Even for the early 1600’s. You could just tell by the way the stone steps were worn. That perhaps they had been tread upon for a thousand years. It was not warm or welcoming at all and I could not push my influence out to change the tragic outcome of what those walls had tasted while vampire lives had ended there and tragic outcomes were called out with a role of the dice. That there were things there that wanted to reach out and touch you. Perhaps judge you before they devoured you,” his voice trailed off. “Reminded me of the parlay parlors. So much vampire blood that had been tasted by those unworthy but could rhyme and bluff.”
“Richard, you are being maudlin,” she leveled her gaze on him. “Stop it. And perhaps the place was older than sin and haunted, and ate vamps as light snacks during their day slumber. There are stories about these holy places across the globe. Those refuges where we are not welcome and goodness of some sort still lingers there and wishes to destroy us.
But this started out as a warehouse and Eric has done a fine job of making it come to life this dark. So enjoy it. Or at least sit there and shut the fuck up and smile and let me enjoy it. The witch up there on that broom is smiling at me. No one smiles at me. I am taking that as a sign of good fortune and maybe she will read my cards, later.”
“What…the…fuck…” Pam squawked her mic, rolling her eyes. “That was all tastefully done. The chateau style still stands today. We just skied there last winter.
“The Swiss compound,” Eric chuckled. “I had no idea it had made such an impact on him.”
“Let’s lock him in the library and let the books do their worst!” Sookie chuckled. “Read him into insanity and then drown him in mermaid spit.”
“Now, now,” Samuel laughed into his headset. “That would not be polite at all. Better yet, let us wait and see if he goes looking for the secret passageway.”
“I will be there to get him if he does,” O.I. chuckled. “I will light up his mo’ fo’n dark and give him a fright he will remember.”
“Game on,” Sookie laughed. “Eric, I see The Throne beginning to stir. Peering into the future, I see splinters in HRM’s ass.”
HRM was seated at a table with nice enough chairs, just nothing as grand as she saw sitting over in that corner. In her undead heart, from time to time, that chair would beckon to her!
“Richard,” she sighed, admiring the fine upholstery to her right, “I do believe that chair is more fitting for me,” she said pointing and nodding her head. “No one is sitting there yet and I want that throne,” she giggled. “Just look how sumptuous it is. And how regal. And how bedecked out it is with jewels and other fine adornments. I would be far more comfortable in that chair with its rich velvet cushions and…and….why look. It even has a matching foot stool for resting your feet! And I do so wish to rest my feet,” she smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes.
“Of course my Queen,” he nodded and moving toward the chair, it appeared to move away from him. Taking a step to the side, he approached it from a different direction and it shifted, also. “So not funny,” he hissed, as he looked around for the device that made it move.
Not seeing anything or anyone, he took a step to the right and then to the left and the chair did likewise.
People had begun to watch him and was calling encouragement to both him and the chair. Perfect, now these bloodbags were placing bets!
Making a lunge at it, he went down face first as the chair sat pristinely to the left of him. Eyeing the lion heads that were the feet, they were all smirking at him! Dropping his fangs, the lions then dropped theirs and roared at him!
He pulled back and reached out to rip off a foot!
Lion claws appeared from nowhere and came very close to removing his hand from his wrist!
Sitting up, he wrapped his wrist with his other hand while it healed and he moved back against the wall, watching the chair and wondering what its battle plan was going to be! Not that it mattered. If the chair wanted war, he was willing!
Catherine got up and walked over to the chair. Looking down at him, she rolled her eyes. “What the fuck, Richard?” she frowned at him. “It is a chair. No need to strong arm it.”
Placing her hands on the arms, she began to scoot it back over to their table, bowing to the applause and well wishes! “Get the foot rest,” she said to him and together they walked the furniture back to their area.
Those around them had gone back to their own business and inside she was seething. “What the fuck?” she scowled at him as she plumped the pillows.
“I was chasing it,” he replied, unhappily. “It knew I was trying to…to…”
“To what?” she laughed. “Have your merry way with it? Come on Richard. It is a night of revelry and delight. Ghost and goblins! Witches and warlocks! All things of the murky shadows and dark, malignant hell pits come out and play on this night,” she laughed.
“Well,” he harrumphed, “you know they all know Northman. Probably on his pay role. Certainly they are all on a first name bases.”
“Well, let us find out for sure, what do you say. Find him for me. With this Throne, I am now ready to entertain him. So, go on now, shew! Bring me my lover and let the rest of the evening speak of romance and glad tidings yet to be announced.”
“You want me to mingle?” and there was shock in his voice. “With…with…” he looked around. “With…”
“Child,” she was shaking her head. “You have lost your connection with the common man. These good folks are the source of your nourishment and entertainment. You have no respect for their toil so that they may fill Eric’s coffers or regard for their wellbeing so that my lover might feed from them and rule them while they are here.”
“What?” he stared at her. “Rule them?”
“Yes,” she arched an eyebrow at him. “Clearly, this is his kingdom. His. He is master of all while his business is open. He is not some penniless drifter as I had feared. Someone who was tossed about by lack of funding as Sophie-Anne, that skank, admired his long legs and handsome face. Here, he is a king, worthy of this queen.”
“What?” he took a step back. “Northman owns a fucking bar! I am the king of New York! Let me tell you about being the king of the Big Apple!” in his words were fury. “Have you any idea what it is like to deal with a New Yorker on a daily basis? Any New Yorker? Than multiply that times eight and one half million and you have my fucking nightmare! Americans come with attitude as it is! And New Yorkers! Pbbbllllttttttt!” he spit out. “And the Weres that come out of New Jersey to bitch about the Weres in New York,” he made a gagging sound. “Somehow, they think I am responsible for that fucked up Were shit and bitch non-stop about how New York’s taxes infringes on their packs’ hunting grounds! They are the fucking Garden State! Purchase some land and rent it out. Or go drown in the Toms River. I do not give a fuck!
You, my queen,” he got down on his knees, his hands beseeching her, “sit in Mother Russia where all bow and scrape and I sit here in the New World where everyone thinks they are an avenging angel and I am lower than Were shit! Just looking to bring me the true death and overthrow my throne and purchase O’ Canada and raise American bison! Although what the fuck for, I have no idea. This is the madness that I deal with each new dark. This stares me in the face when I rise and kicks my ass when I go to my rest! Only to toss and turn and wonder if I can possibly get through one twenty-four hour period without some politician calling me and wanting me to give them campaign money! Talking to me like they are my equal. Fuck-ing blood bags,” he snorted through his nose.
“Jealous of The Viking, are we,” she grinned. “Feel better?”
Glaring at her, he nodded his head yes.
“Richard, you amuse me, or that would have been your final tirade. Child, just so we understand each other, you will never rule in my stead and Eric will be my king. Not that I will allow him to rule, either. Now, before I command you to stake yourself, rise o’ ye of faint undead heart and just exactly what color is your hair now and go and find my lover.”
“It is called Frasier Ginger,” he replied standing and offering her a grand, sweeping bow.
“Well, it makes you look like a leprechaun who has stuck his finger in a light socket. You look quite ill.”
“Seriously,” he replied.
“Yes,” she nodded. “You have not the skin tones for it. Or the Scottish brogue. Or the tartan. You are Swiss-French, Richard. Get over it. Brown hair, some type of gypsy brown to your skin and your eyes so pale blue it is like they have no color at all. I have seen dead fish washed up on the shore with more color.”
“I am so killing my hair dresser,” he pouted. “She said I looked very hip and in style and trustworthy.”
“Trustworthy,” she snorted. “No,” she rolled her eyes and fluttered her hand at him. “You look like a plague victim waiting for the blow flies to escort you to the funeral pyre.”
“Anything at all handsome about me?” he sobbed.
“Your shoes still hold a shine,” she said in a matter of fact voice looking him up and down.
“I will find Northman,” he said with another bow, then he turned on his heel and left.
“I somehow doubt that,” she sighed and then winked at the two males who were sitting alone at their table while their dates went to the lady’s room.
“Care to dance?” she cooed at them.
“Both?” they mouthed.
“Yes,” she replied and nodded, fluttering her eyelashes just a bit.
They both stood and approached her. “Do you know The Black Bottom?” she asked. “Perhaps followed by The Tango and then The Charleston? And,” she winked again, “if you boys can keep up, perhaps The Ménage à Trois?”
“At your service,” they both smiled at her and led her out onto the dance floor.
“Ought oh,” Pam snickered into her head set, “looks like we are going to need clean up on aisle six. The ladies just returned looking for their dates who seem to not be present.
And look, Ric-Dic has made his way to the Library. Look at him feeling up those books! He remembers that passage way from there to the sex room. O.I. you are on, and please do not disappoint.”
“I will be waitin’ on him,” he grinned.
“Sex room?” they all heard Sookie over the headset.
“The Child’s area,” Eric replied. “Her sole domicile in the chateau.”
“I was so cheated,” she huffed over the headset. “All that elegant space and Eric made me keep all my toys in there. I had some real conversations starters for some otherwise drab and boring parities that he hosted. I mean, some guests were real sleepers. I had butt-plugs more interesting than that Viscount’s telling of his newest saddle. But no-o-o-o, Pammy had to keep her dolls and marbles in the playroom,” she pouted.
“Well,” Eric smiled. “Richard has found the secret panel and is making his way down the stairs. Bringing up the cameras in the secret passageway.”
“Ah-h-h Eric,” Richard chuckled, “you do not disappoint. Now, I wonder what is behind door number one. Looks to be some sort of metal alloy on this side. Oh my, just how naughty do we get?” he asked, turning the handle.
“Dark,” he muttered. “This is not possible. I can see in the blackest of pits. But this is…is so dark…and what is that smell? Eric, you naughty boy, just what do you do in here?”
“What doesn’t he do in here?” came the low, dastardly chuckle.
“Who is that? I am the king of New York, I demand that you make yourself known!”
Richard was slapped upside the head and went flying across the room. When he hit the wall, he went splat and then stopped.
“You will pay for this outrage,” he bellowed as he stood and went charging in the direction of the voice. Only to be slapped on the other side of his head.
There was a cut on his cheek and he could feel the blood oozing out.
“I am going to bring you the final death,” Richard whispered. “And then I am going to destroy Northman.”
“Mo’ fo’n,” came the chuckle. “Been a while since anyone has taken on a hell-mouth!”
In the darkness, Richard could see it, the fiery pit of hell, with razor long teeth at the opening as he was caught up on the air current of sulfur and ammonia before he felt the fire burn his skin!
His wails of despair started in earnest and he began backing up, trying to escape the devil’s eyes that were telling him of his past sins and all of his naughty ways! When he could go no further, he slid down the wall and began screaming!
“I’m on this,” Pam said. “Make sure you get my good side.”
Richard was still screaming when the lights came on.
“What the fuck, your majesty?” Pam said as she carried a basket that she was filling from the wine racks.
“I…I…I thought I saw…” he stopped.
Northman’s child was looking at him with distrust.
“I was in the library,” he began the lie, “when I heard this noise behind a wall. “Well, I went looking, hoping it was not rats. And if it was, I would kill them, because I know that the health department can shut you down. So, I followed the noise down here and…and…and…”
“Did you see the hell mouth?” she asked.
“Possibly?” he answered.
“Mm-m,” she nodded as she went on filling the basket. “Eric had his witch install one down here. Someone on the staff kept stealing the private stock.”
“So…?” Richard stood up and began brushing his clothes off. “Why not just drain them?”
“That is so yesterday,” she rolled her eyes. “And leaves you with a body to deal with. This way, when someone tries to walk out with a bottle, the hell mouth opens and a demon reaches out and grabs the offender. Of course, it costs us the bottle of wine, but we have gotten rid of some partners who thought they could sell it to a private bidder. Eric has some bottles down here that are over five hundred years old. Of course, they probably taste like piss and vinegar, but what the fuck do we care? Bragging rights are everything, especially when you are entertaining, here.”
“A witch…” Richard was starting to see a plan! A plan where he could be KING! And his maker…the true death!
“May I speak to Eric about purchasing her services?”
“You can,” Pam laughed gleefully, “but you will not be walking out of that meeting with your heart still in your chest.”
“Oh surely,” he smiled, “we could come to some sort of agreement. I mean, Queen Catherine is my maker. Money is not a problem and he would always be welcome in New York.”
“And this witch is Mrs. Eric Northman,” Pam added with a smile. “And she is not for sale.”
Richard took a step back. “Seriously, Northman married a breather?”
“That would be Mrs. Eric Northman to you,” she said, raising both eyebrows at him. “Under no circumstances are you ever to address her as anything but his Mrs. After he rips the heart from you, he will toss you into that hell mouth.
What do you think really happened to de Castro?” she snickered. “That story about the sniper killing him was just a wee bit of a lie to see who else Eric could possibly pull into his tiny web of step right on up and disrespect my wife. Phillip is right now the main meal for many in Hell. If you sit down here long enough and embrace the dark, you can hear him screaming above all the others. My maker lives for this shit.
You know how Eric is actually a war monger at heart. His Viking ways and his Mrs. hold him in good stead. He gets all pissed-off and berserker rage fired up and she just kisses him on the nose and says, Lover, let me take care of this for you. Damn, you should see what she did to a pack of Weres that HRM S-A sent this way.”
“Is…is she a local girl? Or did Eric bring her in from N.O.”
“Oh fuck,” Pam laughed. “She is as local as they come. Of course, her people moved here from Cornwall. You know, Romans, Druids, Celts, and everything the Vikings drug in with them from their homeworld to include dragons and who knows what else runs through her blood. Plus, she teaches Sunday school at a Baptist church, so she has that whole blood of Jesus thing going on as well.”
“That…that is a lot to take in,” he said softly.
“Yes, it is,” she replied. “Now, I will escort you back up the stairs so I can lock that library door. Would not do for any of the happy party goers to wander down here and think to drink without a tab. When the demons get to roaring and cheering each other on, it can get a bit rowdy and heard all over the building. Plus that sulfur and ammonia smell. It is meant to knock a human out so they are easily pulled in. We really do not want that wafting through the building. We do not want to be accused of gassing our guests.”
Richard was back at the table and sitting as he watched his maker dance. It was obvious from the way she was grinning that the two young men had provided her with a bit of stress relief. Which was good, because she was not going to take the news of Northman being married very well.
“Too bad I cannot get her down into the wine cellar, toss her a bottle of the grape and let the demons eat her.”
“Ouch,” he said as he felt several somethings sharp poke him in the butt.
Standing, he could see several miniscule pieces of the chairs bottom, reminding him of hairs, sticking straight up.
“If I had a piece of sand paper!” he sneered at the chair. He felt several small somethings hit his face and lodge there.
Pulling one out, it was a splinter. “Perhaps the fireplace would be more fitting,” he smiled and then vamp speed, he was gone to the men’s room to pluck away his five o’clock shadow that consisted of miniscule pieces wood.
Happy New Year!
It is good to be back on some type of schedule. I still need to take down Christmas decorations, but I am finding time for writing. Not much time, as you can see by the very short chapter…but I will take what I can get!
Hope your holidays were indeed, blessed. On to 2019!
Be blessed and be the blessing,