Eric Northman reclined carelessly in his seat, slightly elevated above the gyrating , gothed bodies of humans and non humans alike. His fingers ghosted over the keys of phone, an almost lover's caress as he sent out four texts in quick succession. He'd never admit to anyone, but, he wasn't actually texting anyone.

Well, himself, but that didn't really count.

He had texted Pam at first, but several things had conspired to end that practice. First, she was far less than adept at texting and he was too impatient to await her responses – not that he really cared what her responses were – and as such would continue to send message after message. Which, naturally, resulted in incoherent texts that drove Pam and her anal-retentive, perfectionist qualities insane. She'd never tell him that, though. She was his childe, and as such owed him enough to ignore her steadily growing irritation with this human technology. But, he had caught onto it and her mono-syllable retorts had driven the final stake in that practice. (He chortled inside at that not-quite-funny vampire pun, but dammnit it was his brain. He could laugh if he wanted to.)

And…there was really no one else.

Longshadow was barely coherent, much less fully literate. Or…had been. And now Chow? About as interesting as dog food (he cackled again to himself).

So, here he was. Texting the phone he had carefully hidden in the bottom drawer of his locked desk, behind a hidden slat of metal, with frivolous messages so that he could make an appearance at his bar without actually having to watch his bar.

Fill Chow's sleeping quarters with dog foo-

Fwump.

Eric blinked in carefully controlled surprise as a writhing, bloody human girl dropped into his lap. While it was hardly an unfamiliar situation, he normally at least saw the human clamber onto him.

"Grace," it whispered mournfully, her warm, tear-stricken brown eyes staring blankly past him before she dropped bonelessly against him.

He cocked his head as he took in her now still body.

Dead?

He could feel the hot thrum of her blood pulsing beneath the skin, so that clearly wasn't it. She must have passed out – or fainted. The wound and cuts littered upon her body bled freely, a blood that called to him more intensely than even Sookie Stackhouse's.

Sookie, his mind latched on. Here was the perfect opportunity to use Sookie's unique talents, once again. Perhaps, steer her away from Compton, while he was at it. He should have Pam-

"Master," Pam appeared behind him, less than a second later. She peered down at the human distastefully, "Would you like me to dispose," her voice dripped disdain and scarcely restrained bloodlust, "of this…thing?"

"No," he shook his head negligently, his perfect blonde locks flowing with the movement. "Call Compton. I'll be requiring Sookie's aid. Immediately."

"Of course," she nodded and disappeared into the shadows. He chuckled to himself, having seen the flash of dislike that crossed her face at the mention of Sookie. Pam highly disapproved of his interest in the human. He couldn't explain it himself. It was – the thrill of the chase? Her useful talents? Agitating Compton?

All of the above, most likely.

He carefully lifted the prone body and slipped into his office before the mortals could notice anything amiss. She whimpered as the movement jostled her, and the sharp, delightful tang of her blood drifted up to him again.

Stars above, she smelled invitingly delicious. He was reminded again that it had been more than a week since he had last fed – those "fangbangers," as they were so aptly named, had seemed entirely unappetizing to him lately as were his other normal sources of food.

She smelled different. Pure. Untouched. Strong. Special – like Sookie.

He laid her gently on the black couch nestled into the corner of the room and pulled the heavy, leather chair from behind his desk to a few feet in front of her.

Leaning back, he stared intently at woman. She couldn't be more than twenty – if even that – with thick, dark black hair that lay tangled and matted against her skull. The signs of a heavy beating and fight were evident from her bruised appearance and battered body.

There were splatters of blood – some hers, some not, some human and one distinctly vampire. If it weren't for the complete absence of that buzzing repulsion he got around vampire killers, he would have slain her in a moment. As it was, it did give him pause. The dead vampire's blood called faintly to him. It was…familiar. Like his maker's. But not.

More information for Sookie to untangle.

Pam sauntered into the room, her deep red pumps clicking against the floor. "Compton will bring her soon."

"Good."

"Who is she?" she asked, the slight twist to the last syllable denoting the faintest curiosity. More emotion than she normally showed - she must be very curious indeed, he mused.

"Don't know." He continued to gaze purposefully and unblinkingly at her. She had delicate features and bone structure. Like a china doll. Very fragile looking.

That pleased him. He wasn't sure why, but he was pleased. By that, and her casual (if now torn and ruined) black t-shirt and jean cut-offs. And…

Pam stiffened.

"Compton is here," she informed redundantly, knowing full well that Eric had sensed it as well.

"Bring them in."

**