House of Cards (Chapter 5)

House of Cards

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that you recognize. They belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball.

WARNING: ADULT CONTENT

Chapter 5: Goodbye Is All We Have

Medical personnel rush past me. They got here ten minutes after Eric made the call. I was too hysterical to do it. I don’t know what I would have done without him. Against all odds, Gran still had a pulse when we found her lying there on the kitchen floor in a pool of her own blood. We may have cheated death when Eric fed her some of his blood, but only a little. We didn’t know how badly she was hurt, and I don’t think she would have wanted to become a vampire, which could have happened if Eric gave her too much blood.

They rush her to the hospital. I ride in the back of the ambulance with her, willing her to live. Eric is going to meet us there. He volunteered to stay behind to answer what questions the detectives may have. It’s going to be a long night. Gran is rushed into the operating theatre. I sit outside in one of the hard plastic chairs, waiting, and waiting. The sharp smell of antiseptic surrounds me. I’m not very familiar with it as I’ve never had any reason to visit the hospital. The only time I can recall being in a hospital is when Jason broke his arm when he was seven.

I call Jason, but he doesn’t answer his phone. I call Tara, who’s spent more time with us than in her own house. Gran’s like her grandmother too. She promises to come over immediately. Then I stare at the phone and realize that there isn’t anyone else to call.

Eric arrives at the hospital. He doesn’t say anything, but he does hand me a hot cup of coffee and watches me to make sure that I drink all of it. I don’t really taste anything, but the warmth is comforting. I’ve been feeling cold tonight. He waits with me in the hospital waiting room until it’s almost dawn. His presence is soothing, and I seek solace in his mental silence. I am extremely grateful. He doesn’t have to do this. This isn’t what he signed up for when he agreed to help me. He tells me not to worry.

Tara arrives just before Eric has to leave. He’s stayed as long as he possibly can. “Oh my God, Sook,” she says as she rushes over to hug me. “How is she?” I shake my head. I have no idea. I’m not sure if I want to know the diagnosis.

“Take care of her,” Eric says to Tara. “Make sure she eats something.” Tara nods. She’s thinking that maybe he’s not so bad for me after all.

 

House of Cards (Chapter 4)

House of Cards

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that you recognize. They belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball, as I have used elements from both the books and the shows. 

WARNING: ADULT CONTENT

Chapter 4: Red Omen

The paparazzi make camp outside my building and pester everyone who comes out through the front door, even the deliverymen. So far, it’s all going according to plan. I research all the brands to find out which one vampires like the most. After all, if there are going to be vampires in my life, then I want to be able to offer them something if they come by. Granted, I did offer Eric a drink of Sookie last night, but I don’t count that as being genuine southern hospitality.

There’s something called ‘Royalty Blended’ but that has to be specially pre-ordered and you need to wait for a month. It also costs something like thirty thousand dollars per bottle because it’s a blend of blood donated by real life royalty and the highest quality synthetic blood. I don’t see why it’s going to be better than normal blended blood. I mean, I refuse to believe that the biological make up of royalty is better than the biological make up of any other person, provided that they are healthy. Sookie Stackhouse is a great believer of meritocracy.

Finally, I send Norma Jean, my housekeeper, out to pick up half a dozen bottles of a blend that uses paid donors who have to observe a strict diet. It has received pretty good reviews from tech savvy vampires who have bothered to leave comments. One does have to be careful when purchasing foodstuffs. Some of the cheaper brands of blended blood use infected blood donors and stingy vampires have contracted something called ‘Hep D’ from drinking those brands. I find out that there’s a huge lawsuit going on between the infected vampires and the company.

Once Norma Jean’s gone, I finally get dressed. There’s no way I’m going to let people see the huge bandage on my arm, although granted, now that I’m a celebrity simply because I’m ‘dating’ the Eric Northman, if I go out with a huge bandage on my arm, that might become the newest hot accessory. It will cast serious doubt on my fashion credentials, so I don’t try it.

 

House of Cards (Chapter 3)

House of Cards

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that you recognize. They belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball, as I have used elements from both the books and the show.

WARNING: ADULT CONTENT

Chapter 3: If You Really Knew

Eric’s office is very tidy and organized. He’s into minimalism, I can tell, and really big swords. One hangs on the wall behind his desk. His chair is one of those nice leather executive ones with the tall backs. He fills it up entirely. There’s a bottle of Tabasco sauce on his desk, although I have no idea what it’s for and I’m not sure I’d actually want the answer. There are two other guys inside with him, and together the three of them are probably taking up sixty percent of the space in the office. It’s a good thing I’m not that big, even though I can’t really say I’m that small.

The other two guys are introduced to me as Alcide Herveaux and Trey Dawson. Alcide is ruggedly handsome and his teeth are so white that he can probably get a gig doing toothpaste commercials, although I don’t think a guy like him would see that as a legitimate way of making a living. He seems more like the ‘live off his sweat’ kind of guy, from what I could get out of his head, which is strangely impenetrable, like Sam’s.

All of a sudden, it strikes me that Sam could be something supernatural too. Is he a werewolf? I make a note to ask him the next time I see him. Alcide’s hand dwarf’s mine as I shake it. His palms are rough. Just as I thought; someone who knows the meaning of physical labour. I don’t know many guys like that. Trey is like that too, and I see traces of motor oil beneath his short blunt nails. He tells me that he’s a mechanic. Alcide is in the construction business, but his family owes Eric, so he’s taking this job as a way of repaying the debt. Trey is ‘between jobs’ at the moment so he’s happy to find a source of revenue. It’s not the first time he’s done something like this. They, of course, know who I am, and Eric has told them that I’m his ‘woman’ —I don’t think he remembers that we’ve been through the sexual revolution and the feminist movement— and that I need to be protected, but I can’t go about doing what I normally do if people see that I have two burly bodyguards trailing me. They’re buying his story. I can tell that they’re worried for me. Me and my sanity

“Herveaux and Dawson will watch you during the day,” Eric says.

“And at night?” I ask.

“You’ll be with me.” Oh yes, that’s right. I’m supposed to be dating slash having a sex with him. At least, that’s what I want the murderer to hear. The truth won’t be anything like that. Maybe a few movies, dinner (mine) and drinks (his). There will be absolutely no sex whatsoever. Sex usually complicates things in the worst way. I’ve witnessed enough scandals to know that. I just hope Eric knows it too.

 

House of Cards (Chapter 2)

House of Cards

 

 

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that you recognize. The character belong to Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball. I have taken elements from both the books and the show.

WARNING: ADULT CONTENT 

A/N: Thanks for all the great responses! It’s really heartening for a writer when she knows that her readers like what she’s doing. Feedback is much appreciated.  

 

Chapter 2: Just Good Business

Being analyzed by a vampire is not so different from being analyzed by another one of my peers. The female at the door takes in the sight of my shoes, my dress, my clutch, my jacket, and then finally her eyes reach my face. “ID?” she asks.

It’s funny. I haven’t been carded in a while, not since my twenty first birthday bash when Tara and Arlene and a few other of my friends insisted on dragging me to a night club to party the night away. I hand over my driver’s licence. A lot of the girls I know have never learned to drive, relying only on chauffeurs and boyfriends, but I like the independence of being able to operate my own vehicle. I have a yellow Volkswagen New Beetle that I drive out to the Hamptons every weekend.

The vampire inspects my licence, checks my face against the photo on it —I have no idea why driver’s licence photos are always so unattractive— and then nods. “You can go in,” she says, giving me one last look. “Good luck getting out.”

As Bill leads me inside, the music and the thoughts slam into me all at once, almost overwhelming me. I thought the minds of the people outside were bad enough, but the people inside are even worse. Yes, the thoughts about sex are still there, but now they’re more specific, and they’re centred on a few identifiable individuals. We sit down at one of the round glass top tables and a waitress in black leather pants and a black leather cropped corset comes to take our orders. I’m definitely not dressed appropriately for this place. My white bodycon dress makes me stick out like a sore bandaged thumb.

I ask for a gin and tonic, and Bill orders bottled blood, of course. As I sip my drink, my eyes are drawn to the raised dais facing the front door. I noticed him when I first came in, but I didn’t want to seem like a tourist at a theme park. However, it appears that he has deliberately put himself on display. One of the bolder patrons of the club crawls up the steps of the dais. I watch in disgust and morbid fascination as he tries to kiss his boot. Without looking up from his Blackberry, he kicks the man away, sending him flying through the air and into one of the tables. There is no mistake about it. This vampire is in charge.