A/N: Dedicated to rsmmschi for kicking me up the backside to finish and post some of my fics! Hopefully there'll be more Southern Vampire Fairytales - but until I write them, here, for your delectation, is Red Riding Hood and the Wolf, chapter 1.

Blood

I wasn't happy that I'd been more or less ordered to go to Fangtasia by Eric the Hunk (via Bill), as I'd hoped never to have to see the Viking vampire again, after that first time at his club; he'd terrified me completely. I was even less happy to get up the morning before I was due to go, to find a note from Bill popped in the mail box telling me he'd been called away 'on business' for a week (whatever that meant), wouldn't be able to go with me, and that Eric would be arranging transport.

I didn't like the sound of that at all – either part of it. What business was so urgent that he had to be away this very evening? Why couldn't I simply drive myself over there?

I fretted unhappily for most of the day, wondering who would be picking me up. I hoped it wouldn't be the bartender, who had creeped me out. Maybe it would be the woman, Pam? Perhaps a better bet, but still scary as hell; I remembered her kicking a fang-banger in the shoulder, and gave a little shudder.

It wasn't either of them who picked me up, in the end, though. Oh, no. At about eleven thirty, a car pulled into my driveway, and there was a knock at my door. I calmed my nerves as best I could, and opened the door, to see Eric himself standing in my doorway.

I'd forgotten how massive he was, standing at nearly six and a half feet tall, and shoulders almost as broad as the doorway. "You are ready?" he enquired, just as I was debating whether or not I had to invite him in, for the sake of politeness (Gran would have said so), despite my sense of self-preservation squeaking in alarm that I really didn't want to.

I nodded. "I'll just lock up." My hands were shaking so much that I dropped the keys; he caught them before they hit the ground, and held them out to me, the key ring over his finger, his eyebrow raised, and a slight smile on his face. I took them from him wordlessly, and locked the door.

"You live here on your own, all the way out here?" he asked as he opened the passenger door of his car – a red Corvette convertible whose vanity plate read 'BLDSKR'. "It must get lonely, especially at night, with nobody nearby." He shut the car door once I was seated, but as the top was down, he could still look down at me.

"Why, grandma, what big teeth you have," I said dryly, not wanting him to see I was unsettled by his comment.

To my surprise, he burst out laughing. Unlike the bartender, who'd looked even scarier when he smiled, Eric's face seemed to relax, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Tiny arcs appeared at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes crinkled with amusement; it was a face made for laughter, I thought vaguely. He cast himself into the driver's seat. "I'm not the Big Bad Wolf you seem to think I am, Little Red Riding Hood," he grinned. "Buckle up; I have a deep-seated belief that speed restrictions are for other people."

I was glad he'd warned me of that, I thought, as he threw that car around twists and turns with zest and élan. Surprisingly, though, he handled it with a great deal of skill; never once did I believe he would lose control of the car, and eventually loosened my death grip on the seat.

"So, ah, what do you need my telepathy for?" I asked nervously.

"My accountant alerted me that sixty thousand dollars has gone missing from the bar. I want to find out who the culprit is – who has been stealing from me."

Someone who seriously had a death wish, I thought to myself. Out loud, I said, "So how do I fit into that? Who am I going to be using my telepathy on?"

"The accountant himself, first of all, to make sure he really did discover the theft, rather than perpetrating it," he said, his eyes never leaving the road. "Then the waitresses."

"And they're all human, right?" I asked anxiously. "I can't read vampires."

"Not at all?" he asked. He seemed surprised, curious. "How do our minds seem to you, then?"

"Just… voids. Blank spaces, where the thoughts would be. I can tell there's a vampire there, because of the silence, but I can't pick out any thoughts or feelings, it's just… silence."

"In a world where you are constantly bombarded by the thoughts and feelings of others, that must be very restful," he commented thoughtfully.

"It is," I said, surprised by how quickly he'd understood my predicament. "But these people – they're human?" I persisted.

"Yes, all human," he replied.

"And what will happen if I find your thief? What will you do?"

"Turn them over to the authorities, of course," he said, surprised. "What else would I do?"

"Oh, I don't know; torture and maim and threaten them until you get your money back?" I said sarcastically.

He shot a look in my direction, giving a low chuckle. "I think you've watched The Godfather one too many times, Sookie. Yes, I could torture them, but I don't want any more problems than I already have on my plate, and I don't see why I should go to the trouble, frankly. It's far more expedient to get your human authorities to do the dirty work for me."

I wasn't sure quite how I felt about his reasons, but at least he didn't seem inclined to rip the fingernails out of any of the humans (or worse). "What if it's not a human, though? What if it's a vampire?"

I could see his eyebrows slide up. "A vampire?" He thought for a moment, mulling it over in his mind. "I had not considered it as a possibility, that one of my own kind might be so foolhardy as to steal from me. Why do so? Why not simply ask me to loan them money, if they need it?"

I looked at him curiously. "You'd have done that, then, if they asked?"

He gave an easy shrug. "I helped Pam buy her first house, something she has long since repaid. She knows I would help her again if she needed it, and would not be afraid to ask, though to my knowledge she has no need of financial assistance at present. The others… who knows?" He remained thoughtful for a moment. "If it is a vampire, then that will be dealt with by the vampire authorities. Though as I am the vampire authority for this area…" he grinned, "they would be foolish indeed to think they could get away with it."

I shifted uncomfortably. "Right."

"Our laws are not your laws," he said gently. "If it turns out to be a vampire, when we get to the bottom of this, I will involve you no further in the matter. If a human, I will turn them over to the authorities."

"I guess that's fair," I said slowly.

"You seem ill at ease," he commented, after a moment's silence.

"I don't usually try to use my telepathy," I said shortly. "Usually, I try to block it out as much as possible, rather than deliberately going into someone's head. I've never used it in a targeted way."

"I see." He was frowning. "Bill did not mention this to me," he said. "I was not aware this was something you were uncomfortable with. He said it was something you had had since childhood."

Why, thank you, Bill, I thought snidely. "I have had it since childhood," I said curtly. "That doesn't mean I'm happy about it. And would it have made a difference, anyway? You'd still have forced me into doing this, wouldn't you?"

His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. "Sookie, what has Bill been telling you?" he asked. "I called Bill a couple of nights ago regarding my request for your presence at Fangtasia. He said you were willing."

He hadn't put it that way to me. "The way he explained it, it sounded as though he was ordered to bring me because you're in charge of the area, and as I'm with him, you get to play fast and loose with our lives."

"It's true that he must obey me," he shrugged. "I am his sheriff. You, however, I have no jurisdiction over."

"He seemed to think that, if I didn't go willingly, you'd simply… I don't know, find some way to coerce me," I said uncomfortably. "Maybe threaten him, or someone I loved, or…"

Glancing over at him, I noticed his fangs were down, and he looked absolutely furious. "He said this to you?"

"Um… yes?" I squeaked.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, pulling into the parking lot of the bar. "I'd have paid you a visit, certainly, but I would have been on my very best and most charming behaviour to try to get you to agree. I'm a businessman, Sookie, not a mafia boss. Granted, I could make your life a misery if I really wanted to, but where is the benefit to me in that? It is better for us both if you are content."

I wondered if Eric really meant that – his anger suggested that he did, certainly – and if so, how Bill had misread the situation so badly. I got out of the car slowly, and followed Eric to the back door of the club; he held it open for me as I went inside, and showed me into his office, ushering me to a seat. He pressed a button on the phone on his desk. "Pam, we are here. Bring Long Shadow and Bruce in," he snapped out, clearly still irritated by what I'd told him. "Bruce is my accountant," he said to me, pressing the button on the phone again. He came and crouched beside me, taking both my hands in his big one – a hand that I was well aware could crush mine without even trying. I'd never work again. "When this is done, I think I must speak with you further about what Bill has been saying," he said quietly, looking at me intently. "I can see you are fearful of me." There was a rap on the door. "We will speak of this later," he said, standing up. "Enter," he barked out.

The two vampires came in with a paunchy, perspiring man who looked distinctly nervous. All of them nodded to Eric, who motioned Bruce to sit.

"Bruce, this is my associate, Miss Stackhouse," Eric said smoothly. "She has some questions to ask you regarding the money you alerted me was missing."

I shuffled my chair a little closer; Bruce was a loud broadcaster, so I didn't have to touch him to pick up his thoughts (a good thing, in my book, given how heavily he was perspiring). They were a jumble of worry and panic, of wishing he'd kept his mouth shut about what he'd found, and wondering if he'd get into trouble; I could tell he hadn't stolen the money, but had to ask some questions for the look of it. "Bruce, do you know who stole the money?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "No, ma'am. I'd have said if I'd have known. All I know is, the books don't add up, in a big way."

I sat back, shaking my head. "Not this guy."

"You may go. Send Ginger in," Eric said to him.

He fled, and I relaxed a little into the blissful silence of their minds. I know, that's crazy, right? Any one of them could have killed me quicker than you could spit, but it was sheer bliss to be with three other people, and yet be alone in my head.

Ginger, one of the waitresses, sauntered in. "Hey, sweetie," she purred at Eric, and I tried very hard not to roll my eyes. Judging by the tiniest quirk of his lips, he'd noticed – clearly he was as unimpressed by her unoriginality as I was.

"My associate here has some questions to ask you," he said, sounding bored. "You will answer them."

"Yes, Master," she breathed. I bit my lip to stop myself from giggling when Eric caught my eye, and one eyebrow flicked infinitesimally upwards. I might not be able to read his mind – and what bliss that was – but I could still read facial signals and body language well enough. His eyes were daring me to laugh.

Unlike Bruce, Ginger wasn't a broadcaster, so I had to lean towards her, and reached out to take her wrist – it's easier to 'read' people if I have some form of contact with them. "Don't touch me!" she snapped, recoiling.

Eric growled. "Pam, hold her arms."

Quick as a flash, the female vampire was there, pinning Ginger to the chair by her upper arms. I reached out again nervously, but the waitress didn't try to stop me this time. "Do you know who stole the money?" I asked, taking her wrist. I gave a gasp, finding her mind as full of holes as a Swiss cheese. "She knows who did it," I said slowly, as she shrieked, "but she can't say the name." She thrashed her head from side to side. "It's like her mind's full of holes."

"She has been glamoured into not revealing the name, then," said Eric grimly. He gazed at the waitress dispassionately. "Go; send Belinda in." She staggered out. "It seems you were right in your guess that a vampire was behind this. I'm impressed, Miss Stackhouse; it was well thought-out."

The tension in the room seemed to rise a few notches, Pam's head snapping up to stare at him, and Long Shadow hissing. Suddenly, the office was somehow filled with his presence, and they subsided.

The second waitress came in, and took the seat Eric waved her to, with a brief nod to him. "Belinda," she said to me by way of introduction, with another nod.

"Sookie," I smiled in greeting. "I have some questions for you."

"Sure," she said, not flinching when I took her wrist.

"Do you know who took the money?" I asked.

"No, I don't," she said directly.

"What vampires had Ginger been with, Belinda?" asked Eric quietly.

The waitress rolled her eyes. "Anyone who'd have her," she said with a snort of disgust. I could hear her add 'the hussy' to the statement in her mind. I gathered she was a bit pickier than her co-worker. Well, good for her.

"Who from here?" I specified.

She bit her lip, suddenly nervous, unwilling to say the name. Her eyes darted in his direction, and I saw the picture in her mind as she shook her head, looking at me pleadingly.

I let out a little breath of air. "It was…"

I didn't get any further than that, though, as Long Shadow leapt over the desk and went for me. I threw my arm up and screamed as his fangs sank into it, and struggled to back away; then the eyes went dull, and his face seemed to fall in on itself, blood rushing out of his mouth, some of it going into mine, and I screamed again, falling to the floor, and rolling away from him.

He started to disintegrate as I looked on in horror, from my place cowering on the floor, a stake protruding from his back; glancing up at Eric, I could see a mallet in his right hand. His fangs were fully down, his eyes slightly glazed, and he was staring directly at me. "Pam, get Belinda out of here," he murmured.

She'd whisked the waitress out before I had a chance to object to being left alone with Eric in this state. He stalked towards me, placing the mallet on his desk. "Let me see your arm."

I scrabbled backwards until my back hit the wall, and I could go no further; I didn't dare take my eyes off him, even to close them, a sense of impending doom settling over me.

"Oh, for…" he reached down and scooped me up easily and sat down on the chair I'd vacated. He took my arm and turned it over to look at the wound; it was still bleeding. "Not so deep; you will live," he pronounced. He started licking it, his tongue surprisingly gentle and soothing. "Did you swallow any of his blood?"

"Some, probably," I croaked out. "Why, what will happen to me?"

He shrugged. "That remains to be seen; normally, we drink the blood of humans, not the other way round. Do things seem clearer to you now?"

I nodded. "Everything seems… sharper. More in focus."

He raised his head, and looked critically at my arm. "That will do; it has stopped bleeding now," he said, standing up and sitting me back down on the chair, and crossing to a cupboard. He brought out a large t-shirt. "Take your shirt off, and put this on. I will wait outside. Leave your shirt on my desk, and I will have it laundered and returned to you."

I let out a shaky sigh of relief when the door clicked closed behind him, and stripped off my now blood-stained shirt, pulling the Fangtasia-branded t-shirt over my head once I'd cleaned the blood from my face and arms with wet wipes from my purse. The t-shirt was huge on me, but it was better than wearing blood-stained clothes in a bar full of vamps, that was for sure.

By the time I exited the office to meet Eric in the corridor, his fangs were retracted, and his eyes were as bright and sharp as they had been before Long Shadow attacked me. I guessed that meant he'd got his bloodlust under control for the moment (and – ah – other lust; I'd been very aware of a fair amount of interest when he'd sat me on his lap), and my anxiety came down a notch or two. He gestured to me to follow him, and led me into the club; it was deserted. Had we really been here that long? It hadn't seemed like it. "What's your poison?" he asked me, walking over to the bar.

I was a little taken aback by his use of that idiom, given that English was quite definitely not his first language; Eric's a former Viking, which I guess meant his native language was Old Norse or Old Icelandic, or something. Definitely not English, anyway. "Oh, you don't have to… I mean, I…"

He raised an eyebrow. "You look as though you need a drink."

I felt as though I did, too. "Gin and tonic, please," I said meekly.

I watched as he slid behind the bar. "Single or double measure?"

"Single, thanks."

"Ice and lemon?"

"Yes, please."

He nodded. "It has been some time since I've mixed drinks," he said thoughtfully, "but I think I can mix a gin and tonic without too much trouble." He put a bottle of TrueBlood in the microwave to heat.

It was news to me that he'd mixed drinks at all. "You, ah, you were a bartender?"

He nodded. "Some years ago. It enabled me to work at night, and have access to the company of many willing females."

I was a little disconcerted by that, and rather wished I hadn't asked. Still, he poured my drink deftly, with flair, and I noticed that he'd used a really good gin, not the house gin I would normally have gone for. Once it was poured, and his bottle of blood heated through, he waved me towards one of the booths.

"Come. Let us sit in comfort for a while, and talk, while we have our drinks." He sat opposite me, sipping at his synthetic blood. He wrinkled his nose. "Not as good as yours," he said ruefully. "I don't suppose you would…?" he asked hopefully, gazing at my arm.

I sat back. "Not a chance."

He shrugged. "Worth a try," he said with a smile, seemingly not at all put out.

I relaxed a little. "You need an area rug," I said, partly for something to say. He looked at me quizzically. "There's a scorch mark on your office floor, where he – ah, where he…" I trailed off, and gulped down a large mouthful of my G&T. Damn, that gin was good. I tried to focus on the taste of my drink, perhaps enhanced by the vampire blood I'd accidentally ingested, rather than dwell on the events that had led up to me drinking it.

"I will bear that in mind," he said, looking at me thoughtfully. "You did well, this evening. I was most impressed."

"Thanks?" I quavered.

"I would be glad if I could call on you again for your telepathy," he said smoothly. "As Bill may have mentioned, this evening was partly a test of your ability, before I decided whether or not to offer you a more… hmm… permanent position."

"Excuse me?" I gasped.

He looked momentarily disconcerted. "He did not tell you this?" I shook my head dumbly. "It did not occur to you that, if I had wanted answers from these humans, I could have used my glamour on them to force them to tell me the truth? Unlike you, they are none of them resistant to it."

It hadn't occurred to me, but maybe it should have done. "He… didn't say anything like that."

"He mentioned that I was thinking of offering you a position, though, to pay you for any further work you might do for me. Yes?"

"Ah, no," I said apologetically – though I wasn't sure quite what I was apologising for. It seemed to me that it was Bill who ought to be apologising for keeping me in the dark. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to worry me, I thought charitably.

Eric looked furious, his eyes glittering, his fangs running out. He muttered something I didn't understand. "Well, no matter," he said stiffly. "Enough that I was duly impressed by your work this evening, and will pay you for any further work you do. A fair rate, on an ad hoc basis." He looked at me unblinkingly. "What do you say?"

"I guess I'd… like to know a bit more about what that would entail," I said cautiously.

"Of course, I had anticipated as much," he said. "But I think you will want to sleep on it for a few days, particularly after this evening's events." He handed me a printed piece of paper. "These were my initial thoughts, and if you are in agreement, we can formalise this at a later date. Or keep it more informal, and I can pay you in cash." He leant back against the seat, regarding me through half-closed eyes, and I wondered if this was another test – to see how I'd react to that offer.

I tucked the paper into my purse without looking at it. "I'll read it over tomorrow, and think about it," I said firmly.

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. "In the meantime, Sookie, we must discuss what Bill has been saying to you," he said, his displeasure showing in the tone of his voice. "I do not care for this."

"I'm sure there's a good reason for it," I said stoutly.

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not," he said simply, "and I have known him much longer than you have." My heart sank. "Tell me how you met him."

So I told him, in as much detail as I could remember, about the incidents with the Rattrays (he didn't look pleased), and about the Monroe vampires.

"Those renegades," he hissed. "They were in and out of trouble more than any other in the Area. I was always having to haul them in for one misdemeanour or another. You are lucky to be alive. But why were you helping him with these workmen? Why did he not have a day man handling it?"

"A what?"

He looked startled. "Most vampires, except those who are newly turned, and who remain with their maker until they are released, employ a human to run errands for them in the daytime, when they cannot. Higher ranking vampires, such as myself, will have a day man – or woman – who works exclusively for them, but for lower ranking vampires, there are pools of trusted individuals who work for them; they are called on when necessary, and it is sometimes possible to request the services of a particular human if they work well with you, and if they are not already running errands for another vampire," he explained. "Though he is not high-ranking enough to have his own day person, he could have called on one."

"Maybe he thought that, as I knew the workmen in the area, I'd be a better bet," I said reasonably.

He gave me a look. "Or it was his intention that you should meet those vagabonds," he said. "Your telling of that tale suggests that it upset you greatly, made you view all other vampires with more suspicion. You feared me because of that."

His tone dared me to contradict him; I couldn't.

"It seems to me that he has been planting false ideas in your mind, my dear," he said gently. "No doubt aided by the fact that you have had his blood. This will have given him some influence over you – though given your immunity to being glamoured, it might not be so much as with a normal human."

I felt suddenly sick. "You wouldn't know what business prevented him from being here tonight, would you?" I whispered.

He shrugged. "Not really; all he said was that the Queen had called him back to New Orleans urgently."

"Queen?" I said weakly.

He stared at me. "Sophie-Anne Leclerq is the name of the Queen of Louisiana," he said finally. "Each state – bar Wyoming, where there are no vampires – has a vampire monarch, and is therefore also a kingdom. Each kingdom is divided up into Areas – they used to be called fiefdoms, but it was decided that it was just too antiquated. Each Area is run by a Sheriff. This is Area Five."

"And you're the sheriff," I said numbly.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I uphold vampire law, settle disputes, and the like. Bill has made no mention of this to you?" I shook my head. "I told him that he might do so, rather than keeping it secret from you; that it would benefit you to understand something of our lives, our hierarchies, if you were to work for me."

"He didn't say."

"This is most strange," he said. "And he didn't tell you what his business was? Not even why Sophie-Anne had called him to her, what he was working on for her?" I shook my head. "I will question him when he returns," he said with a frown. "Something about this sits ill with me. I will discover the truth of it, though. Why is the Queen's Procurer suddenly…" he halted, his eyes widening, as he came to the same conclusion I just had. "Ah."

"Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea," I gasped, my mind reeling. "He was sent to procure me."

In the movies, or in books, that's where pandemonium would have broken out, but it was just me and a Viking, sitting in an empty club. His face was tense and angry as he sat silently. "You may be right, you may be wrong," he said eventually. "We should not jump to hasty conclusions."

"Yes, but…"

"Did he say when he would be back?" he asked, as if I hadn't spoken.

"A week, he thought."

"Can you make a decision on working for me within the week?" he asked calmly. "If you are acknowledged as one of my retinue, I can protect you – prevent him from taking you unwillingly to work in New Orleans, where you would probably be treated no better than a pet."

I didn't much care for the idea of being in his 'retinue', but there were better things to worry about right then. "And the Queen?"

"Let me worry about her," he said in a voice that could cut diamonds.

I swallowed. "I can come to a decision before he gets back," I said. "Do you have a business card, or…"

He scribbled a number on the back of a Fangtasia business card, and handed it to me. "That is my cell phone number. Call me when you have made a decision; if it is during the day, leave a voicemail, and I will get back to you."

I mumbled a barely audible 'thanks'.

"You are weary," he said abruptly when I stifled a yawn. I nodded, setting my now empty glass down on the table. "I will drive you home." And just like that, I found myself hustled to the car, Eric locking up the club on the way out. "First in, last out," he said ruefully, at my curious look; I'd assumed it would be beneath him, but clearly he was very hands-on when it came to the bar.

The drive back was silent – for part of it, I slept, as Eric had put the roof up, and the car was comfortably warm. I blinked sleepily as he pulled into my drive, wincing as he navigated the potholes. I really needed to get that fixed, I thought to myself, grimacing when I considered how expensive that was going to be.

To my surprise, Eric got out of the car, and waited until my front door was unlocked. "All is well, no visitors," he said serenely, and I thought with a sudden shudder of my poor Gran, ambushed in the kitchen.

"Is that what you meant, earlier?" I asked softly. "When you were asking if I lived alone?"

He nodded cupping my cheek gently with his hand. "Bill told me about your grandmother," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "One of the things I have suggested, as you will see, is to set a guard on your home until the murderer is caught. Your ability is valuable, rare, and I would have it – you – protected."

"Oh," I breathed.

He smiled down at me, and very gently brushed his lips to mine. "As I said, I am not the Big Bad Wolf," he reminded me. I watched as he returned to his car, and waved as he drove off.

No, maybe you're not, I thought, mulling over the evening's events. But maybe Bill is, I realised, with a sickening sinking of my stomach.