My Name Is Death

You stopped dead, and so did your heart, for a moment, and then spun around to find yourself face to face (well, it was more like face to chest) with the very person you were just priding yourself on avoiding. You brushed off the fact that he’d nearly given you a heart attack and glared up at him. “Well obviously, if it gives people like you chances to show up.”

He gave you a smirk that you were, unfortunately, growing very used to seeing. “Now now, is that any way to treat your escort home?”

“I was doing fine on my own, but if you shut up you can come along,” you snapped, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to go away and not in any mood to deal with him.

“That sounds… reasonable,” he mused amiably, and matched his pace to yours as you hurried along the poorly lit road.

Reasonable? you thought, completely thrown off. You walked in silence for a moment. “Oh my God.”

“Hmmm?” he asked, turning in the direction your narrowed eyes were facing.

“Huh?” you asked, shaking your head. “I thought I saw… Nevermind.” You thought you’d seen a naked woman watching the two of you from between the trees out of the corner of your eye, but when you’d turned to look, there’d been nothing there.

Eric nodded and continued strolling along about half a step behind you.

You spent the rest of your trip shooting him sideways glances when it seemed like he wasn’t looking. (You knew that he could see every move you were making, but you figured that if you pretended like you thought you were being sneaky, he wouldn’t take that as an invitation to start talking.

It wasn’t long before you arrived in front of your tiny house. Hunching over, you wordlessly dug for your keys and unlocked the door.

Eric leaned over you, supporting himself with his elbow on the well. “May I come in?” he asked charismatically.

You snorted, “well, this is new,” before stepping over the threshold. “Bye.”

Only feeling slightly guilty about closing the door in his face, you headed straight for the bathroom to change into your pajamas. “Damn vampires screwing with my sleep schedule,” you muttered a few minutes later through your mouth full of toothpaste and brushed your teeth en route to the kitchen.

You spat into the sink and set your toothbrush down on the counter before wiping the excess toothpaste from your face with a paper towel. Please please please just let me have a quiet night watching tv, you prayed silently. That was all you wanted—a quiet night where you let your brain turn to mush over reruns of Doctor Who and didn’t contemplate what Eric’s motives for leaving you in peace had been and just how fucking weird it had been. You had a headache again, probably due to the vampire blood wearing off and having screwed up on taking your medication earlier, and just didn’t want to deal with anything.

After filling up a glass of tap water, you divvied out your dosage (and an extra couple of Ibuprofens for the headache) and stared down the little pills that did so much for you. And what if you didn’t take them tonight? What if you just stopped taking them? Everything you’d ever had prescribed to you stopped working eventually. You were sick of seizures, sick of your vision blacking out for no good reason, sick of not being able to have a driver’s license. Your brother knew the trouble you could have gotten into because he’d run off to that stupid vampire bar. The seizures were always getting closer and closer together, and every time your brain was getting worse and worse off. You’d be lucky if you made it to fifty.

And you were pissed.

So what if you stopped taking the medication? Just what if?

Well, that certainly wasn’t going to make them go away, so with a sigh, you downed all five pills you’d laid out in one gulp and drained the glass of water. “I’d probably wake up bleeding out of every orifice on my face anyway,” you joked blackly, answering yourself out loud.

“Would you now?” a familiar voice came from nowhere.

If you’d still been holding the glass, it would have been in a million tiny pieces on the floor by then, because there was Eric Northman, having thrown up your window faster than your human eyes had been able to see.

“Jesus Christ,” you gasped, cocking your head to the side and holding back the horrible tongue-lashing you were ready to unleash on him. “What the hell do you want?”

His self-important grin fell into a mocking hurt as he held up a small box. “I bring you a gift and you slam the door in my face.”

You rolled your eyes. “Keep it. And I didn’t slam the door.”

“It’s a phone,” he continued, ignoring your comment. “And I also have a job offer for you. You really should invite me in.”

“I have a job.”

“I assure you this is a much more lucrative opportunity than what you’re doing now.” You opened your mouth to object, but he continued again, this time with more authority. “Five thousand dollars is an acceptable amount to have you accompany me for a few nights, don’t you think?”

You inhaled sharply. Five thousand dollars was a lot of money for just that. And while you knew there had to be a catch, it was too good of an offer to pass up, especially with your job at Merlotte’s being so unstable. So as much as you wanted to tell him to shove it and that no amount of money was enough for that, you sighed resignedly instead. If he tried anything funny, you could always rescind your invitation, right? “Well, come in then.”

In a flash, he was past you and somewhere in the other side of your house.

“You couldn’t use the door?” you shouted, annoyed, and went to find him.

It didn’t take you long—he was in your bedroom, and was pulling things from your closet and shoving them into one of your duffel bags. He turned around to acknowledge you with a smirk before making his way to your dresser just as quickly as he’d entered your house.

When it settled in that he was packing your clothes for you and obviously expected you to leave that night, you pulled the door open as wide as it would go. As calmly as you could, you took back the invitation to your home. “Get out.”

Instead of the reaction you’d expected, he smirked even more widely, nodded, and disappeared from your house. And he’d taken your bag full of clothes with him.

Enraged at his invasion of your privacy and confused as to why he still had your bag, you raced after him. “What the fuck was that?” you fumed from the doorway.

“Catch,” he said simply, and tossed your bag back to you.

Even more confused and just as angry, you leaned forward to catch it and stumbled across the threshold.

Bad idea.

Before you had a chance to leap back into your house, Eric had you in his arms (one under your knees, and one under your shoulders) and was carrying you out into the yard.

“What the hell you are you doing?” you exclaimed, struggling and kicking to get out his iron grip. “Put me down, you overgrown mosquito! I don’t want your damn money anymore!”

He chuckled down at you. “Oh, but didn’t you know? You’re coming whether or not you take the money. I have use for you.”

“I don’t see what help I could possibly be in whatever you had planned,” you seethed, but crossed your arms over your chest. You’d given up struggling, knowing full well that that would get you nowhere. Instead, you’d save your energy until he was distracted. Or something. “I’m a person and I demand to be treated like one!”

“You’re right, you know,” he mused. “If you don’t want special treatment, who am I to give it to you?” His fangs popped down and something horrible in his eyes lit up as he flung you over his shoulder and secured you by only your legs.

It was only then you realized how high up in the air you were.

The city lights twinkled a few hundred yards below you—and immediately you started scrabbling to get away from him, frantic and frenzied. Your anger had distracted you from the fact that he’d been flying—fucking flying—off with you, and now your debilitating fear of heights was blocking every sense of logic you had. “Let me go!” you were screaming, beating at every inch of him you could reach and starting to go into hysterics.

“If you insist,” Eric replied absent-mindedly, and before you had the chance to respond, you were accelerating down toward your inevitable death.

And less than a second later, he had hold of you again.

“I think it would be best if you showed a little restraint,” he suggested with authority.

You didn’t respond. Instead of your usual “not knowing when to stop” anger, you went limp. You were too much in shock to care or to fight anymore. That split second you’d been falling had been just like the stupid bridge incident all over again. For the rest of the trip, you curled into yourself and tried to avoid the memory of hurling down to the rushing waters and jagged rocks below.

--------

When Eric set you down on solid ground again, it took you a minute to get your bearings. You were shaken, and understandably so. In fact, you couldn’t stop shaking long enough to slap Eric across the face for what he’d done to you.

“Come,” he ordered, slapping your bag over one of your shoulders and leading you into a large hotel—the Hotel Carmilla, a famous hotel that catered to vampires that had been on some news special a while back. The color scheme of the inside was red and black. What a surprise.

“You said ten minutes, Mr. Northman,” the hostess smirked. “You’re late.”

Eric chuckled and nodded. “I wanted to have some fun along the way. I take it you have the room ready?”

He continued to chat with her for a moment, but you’d stopped listening? You’d been on the ground long enough to have calmed down enough to get mad—he wanted to have some fun along the way? Did that mean he could have gotten you there faster? You were horrified, and, balling your hands into fists, you stormed off and took a seat in one of the waiting chairs by the elevators.

In less than a second, Eric was by your side again. “Are you finished pouting?”

That was it. You’d had it. No more forcing yourself to be “calm.” You were done caring that the place was crawling with vampires, that Eric probably wouldn’t think your arguing was so chuckleworthy there. You blew up. “No, actually, I—”

Or at least you tried to blow up.

Before you’d gotten out three words, Eric had covered your mouth with his hand and yanked you forcefully into the stairwell. “You forget where you are and who you are with,” he hissed, and pressed harder on your mouth when he felt you trying to object. “No. I will not be compromised. You do not and cannot comprehend the gravity of why we are here.” He passed you a room key. “I suggest, if you wish to stay alive, you find your way to the fourth floor, room four-twenty-six, and stay there until I return. Not all vampires are as forgiving as I am.”

You narrowed your eyes. Forgiving? RIGHT.

“Four-twenty-six,” he repeated, and removed his hand when he’d decided you weren’t going to scream.

“Fine,” you hissed, in appreciation of the fact that most vampires wouldn’t let you get away with what Eric did. Not that it would have stopped you from going off on them, but still. “But I’d better be getting my damn money.”

He nodded, looking slightly surprised at your relatively calm response, before disappearing from the stairwell.