Chapter 1

It seemed funny, now, to think that only yesterday I had been lounging in a chair at my home, sipping sweetened ice tea, the biggest worry on my mind being what I would wear that evening on a trip with my girlfriends to a bar in Shreveport. At the time, though, it seemed like worry enough. I really don't go out much, and not because I am not pretty. I am. I'm blond and blue-eyed and twenty-two with strong legs and a waspy waistline. I'm pretty blessed in the bosom department, too. It's just, that, I have this disability. I hear people's thoughts. Now, some of you may think, oh, what a handy gift to have! Well, you couldn't be more wrong.

First off, imagine being in a crowded room full of people, with all of them shouting their most private, and usually very gross and disturbing, thoughts right at you. Now, it would be hard enough trying to ignore them all and go about doing your own business. But imagine actually having to try to have a conversation with some of them. Yeah, tricky, huh? Most of you would probably just try to stick your fingers in your ears and sing "lalala" in order to try to drown the deafening clamor. I, on the other hand, in an attempt to look at least minimally normal, have to constantly split my brain into two- one half tries to block all the noise, the other is trying to appear normal to whomever I am talking to. Plus, there's that crazy nervous smile I always get when I'm trying to cover up my disability. And you wondered why I get called "Crazy Sookie"!

So, that's on their end. Even when someone comes along to the bar I waitress at, "Merlotte's", who doesn't know about my reputation for craziness, I find that it really puts a damper on things when you know that all the while your partner is entertaining nasty thoughts about you with your shirt off, or wondering if you're blond all the way down. It's really no wonder that I'm still a…well…let's get back on track here.

As I was saying, me and by best (and only) girlfriends, Tara and Arlene, decided to go to a gothic bar in Shreveport. Or rather, the two decided that I need to get our more and, through incessant bribery and threats, forced me to agree to this crazy venture. Not that I have anything against bars. I mean, I do work in one. Except that, this one had a trashy reputation. I mean, even the name(Fangtasia- I mean, really, who comes up with that sort of name?) basically guarantees a roomful of vampire wannabes and scantily dressed sluts.

So, I finally decided to wear a pretty, albeit short, white dress with tiny red flowers all over it that showed off my tan and breasts nicely, without appearing slutty. Arlene and Tara had tried to bully me into wearing black, but I'm my own woman, if nothing else, and wanted to show a little independence. Also, it was already obvious from their thoughts that they were determined to hook me up with someone, anyone, at that bar, so there was no way that I was going there looking like a slut.

I was putting on my red high-heeled shoes and matching earrings when the doorbell rang. My Gran, who was already warned that I was going out tonight and happy as a clam about it, opened the door to a very excited Tara and Arlene. Arlene was wearing an extremely short dress for a mother with two children and a bright orange shawl that accentuated her already noticeable bright-red hair, which seemed about two shades redder tonight, probably in honor of the occasion. Tara was also wearing black, but even more revealing- it looked as if she had squeezed herself into a very short, very tight black tube. Keeping my thoughts to myself, as usual, I complimented them both. Tara smiled at me, all the while thinking, just great, Sookie has done it again- what's up with all the white? Were going to a bar, not a nunnery…how are we going to snag her a man this way? Well, maybe I could offer to pay… I pulled out of her head, feeling tears threatening to spill out from embarrassment and anger. Trying not to show how upset I was, I straightened up and walked us out of the house with my head held high.

Gran called after me, "I'm just going to leave the light on, and go to bed. Don't you worry about me, come back as late as you want!" I guess, if nothing else, a sure indicator that you're "antisocial", as my childhood psychologists called it, is if even your Grandmother wants you to get some.

After the silent hour-long drive to Shreveport, we pulled into the parking lot of Fangtasia (shudder), which was full of a few very nice cars and many more very crappy ones. I guess Tara's Malibu couldn't really compare to the shiny red Corvette that stood in the owner's spot.

Arlene and Tara were very excited to be here, because though they had never been here before, they had heard many great (and by great, I mean very bad and dirty) things about the place. We came up to the entrance to be greeted by a very pale blonde whose trailing black dress seemed out of place with her sweet features that could have done credit to a milkmaid. At least, that's all Tara and Arlene perceived as unusual about her. To me, she emitted the faintest of little glows. Breaking me out of my fascination, the strange blonde demanded to see ID.

I pulled out my driver's license as Tara and Arlene did the same, saying, "I haven't been carded in years". She looked at me more closely then, and suddenly smiled at me out of the blue, a very wide but close-lipped smile that looked very odd.

Barely opening her mouth, she said, "I hope you…enjoy your stay here at Fangtasia, Miss Stackhouse."

Hmm. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that I had just been hit on by a woman. Tara and Arlene noticed this, too, and gave me odd glances as we came into the bar. Too late I realized that I should probably have scanned her mind, because she did seem unusual, something that I didn't encounter very often. But by then we came into the bar and all my thoughts about her were forgotten.

The first thing that hit me was the noise. There were so many dirty thoughts all over the place- every single person was thinking about sex- that I had to put on my shields full force, which required a lot of concentration. Besides the unholy thoughts bombarding me from every direction, there was also some very loud music playing with a beat so strong, I could feel the vibrations down to my toes.

The next thing I noticed were the colors of the bar and the attire (or lack thereof) of the customers. The whole bar was done in shades of red and dark gray, and the light was very dim. I could still make out the separate people, though, and was rather shocked at what I saw. Everyone was wearing black clothing, and very little of it at that. The women wore mostly either very tight or see through and trailing dresses and skirts, while most men seemed to have ripped their shirts and jeans almost to shreds. Suddenly, I felt extremely noticeable and innocent in my white dress. I guess I had missed the memo to wear black.

As we sat down and waited for a waitress to arrive, I noticed a few more people that seemed to glow a little in the corners of the bar. Around them was always a throng of the more scantily dressed men and women, who seemed to have severe scarring on their necks. Suddenly, it hit me.

The name, Fang-tasia, the trailing dresses, the strange scars- this was just another one of those places for vampire-wannabes, who seemed to be growing with the release of the twilight books. Disgusted but reassured that anything weird was just on their part; I sat back and ordered my gin and tonic from the waitress that had finally decided to arrive.

While the girl was taking orders from Arlene and Tara, I noticed that her neck seemed to be covered with the fake scars so many people here were sporting, except hers sure looked real. Curious to see what a vampire-obsessed girl was thinking, I peeked into her mind, only to jump right out. It had been like walking through a bomb site- all of her thoughts were scrambled, and chunks of her brain seemed to be missing. And she seemed so normal! Peeking at her name, I said, "Thanks, Ginger", and she walked right off, leaving me with my friends.

Turning to them, I saw that they hadn't noticed anything strange about the place. I guess I just had to warn them, so I said, "I think that we should get out of here. I just peeked into that girls mind, and something is seriously wrong with her. It's as if someone got in her brain and removed chunks of her personality, and yet she's walking and talking like a normal person! Something is seriously wrong here." Arlene and Tara looked at me as if I were crazy. Arlene exclaimed, "Girl, what are you talking about? In case you haven't noticed, the theme of this bar is vampire, so naturally someone would be crazy here. And really, I think that you're just trying to find an excuse to get out of here, 'cause you weren't exactly crazy to come here with us!"

I gritted my teeth at the accusation, but didn't respond, as usual, and resumed observing the bar. So far, nothing seemed out of ordinary, and I didn't want to risk getting an earful of disgusting thoughts from the crowd, so I didn't raise my shields. I was about to suggest dancing to the girls when I noticed a couple who seemed to be more clothed than the rest of the people here, who were probably here for the first time like us, get up to leave. Curious to see what would happen, for some reason, I followed them with my eyes to the door, where they were intercepted by the pale blonde. She seemed to stare into their eyes intently, said something in a low voice, and walked away. The couple seemed dazed, almost drunk, all of a sudden, and stumbled out of the bar.

A little creped out, I turned my face away to see ginger coming up with our drinks. I took a huge gulp of the alcohol to settle my nerves and overactive paranoia and it seemed to work immediately. I finished the gin and tonic and grabbed Tara by the hands, dragging her out onto the dance floor, leaving Arlene, who couldn't dance at all, back at the table. A nice song with a strong beat that vibrated through my bones was on, and I danced away, trying to ignore my misgivings and finally have a good time. Now, I may not be good at many things, but one thing I do great is dance.

After the first song, which I had actually enjoyed- I might have to ask the DJ for the name- my good mood was abruptly ruined when I heard a familiar beat signal the start of a new song. Tara squealed like a teenage girl and started clearing a circle for our little dance.

It was very embarrassing really. As high schoolers, Tara and I had been extremely innocent, but loved to dance and watch MTV. Naturally, the combination ended in disaster and near expulsion. We fell in love with song on the channel, and choreographed our moves to match those on the screen. As the dance was made to look like a lesbian striptease, full of bumping and grinding and our bodies touching the entire time, it's needless to say that we were nearly expelled after performing it at the school talent show. Our innocent minds had no idea that the male faculty would remember it for years afterwards with a cold sweat.

It did nothing to discourage Tara, though. Every time she heard the dirty song, like now, she would pull me by the hand onto a dance floor and I would be forced to do it all over again with her. I learned after the first ten times that protesting was pointless.

This time, as we fell into the beginning pose and started grinding against each other, aided by alcohol, I decided to actually enjoy it for once. I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to the music, bumping my hips into Tara's as she held them and swayed sensually to the beat. I felt my inhibitions falling away, partly because of the alcohol I had consumed and partly because of the way all the men and even a few women were looking at us-me!- as if we were something to be desired. In any case, I danced like never before, and even felt my shields easier to maintain. Tara and I did the last thrust and grind, and opened our eyes to cheering, whistles, and a great many of lust filled stares from men and women alike- among them the pale blonde who had smiled at me at the entrance. There seemed to be strange streaks of power ran over us, but I assumed that I was just imagining it from all the cheering and attention, and ignored it.

Suddenly Tara looked to the right and exclaimed, "Oh, Sookie, I just saw a really old friend I haven't seen in forever! You don't mind if I go talk to him, do you?" And without waiting for my reply, she ran off into the crowd.

Sighing, I was about to turn back to our table when I noticed a stronger tweak of power than ever flow over me. Certain now that I wasn't imagining it, I looked for the source and was caught in the most icy blue stare I had ever seen. Upon further examination, the glacial blue eyes appeared to belong to a man. A gorgeous man, but you don't see me noticing that. He had a slim, shapely waist, very broad shoulders that seemed to be made to run your hands over, and a sharply sculpted face. His long mane of wheat-colored hair was a similar color to my own. He a high forehead, high cheekbones, a strong and straight nose, and full, sensual lips that at the moment were spread in a wide smirk. His eyes were focused on me so intently, I thought he might bore a hole in my skull, and the tweaks of power seemed to be growing in strength. Just then I noticed his aura- it was dark, dangerous, and- surprise, surprise, he glowed a little, like a saint in one of those pictures. Oh, but he was no saint.

Realizing that I was staring, I turned quickly away from his gaze and walked back to the table, shaking my head. Turning back to peek at him again, I noticed he wore an astonished expression, but quickly rearranged his features and looked away. Shrugging my shoulders, I sat back at the table.

Arlene asked me, "Where's Tara?" I suddenly remembered that she had run off, and told this to Arlene. She seemed pissed that I let Tara go off on her own in a bar like this, and went off to find her, leaving me alone at the table, but not for long. About a minute after Arlene left, Ginger came up again and put a new gin and tonic in front of me. "Hey, what are you doing? I didn't order that!" She answered dully, "It's a treat from Master Eric." I was surprised, to say the least, and answered, "I don't know who that is and I don't care, but I didn't order this drink and I'll be damned if I let someone I don't even know buy me a drink. You can take this away and drink it yourself for all I care, but I'm not taking it." She shrugged her shoulders and left.

Not long after she left, I was approached by the strange glowing blonde who wore a pissed expression on her face.

"You are being summoned by the master of this bar", she said in a bored voice, and actually seemed to be expecting my to get up and follow her. I looked at her incredulously, "You're kidding, right? Excuse me, but I don't get summoned by anyone, I am my own person, thank you very much!"

She looked mildly surprised, as if her usually obedient dog was refusing to sit or whatever, and, sighing, looked intently into my eyes. I thought she was trying to stare me down, and stared right back at her. After a second I began to feel those strange tweaks of power going at me and over me. She said, smoothly, still focused on my face, "You will come with me right now and be an obedient little girl."

Amazed at her audacity(word of the day on my calendar), I said indignantly, "didn't you hear me the first time? I said no, and I would appreciate it if you didn't call me a little girl. I really don't think that I'm that much younger than you." And I didn't- she seemed my age, maybe even younger.

Immense surprise showed on her face before she turned her face blank and walked away.

Not one minute later a third unwelcome visitor turned up. I didn't look up , but I felt whoever was there, and said in a pissed off voice, "I don't care why you are here, but no, I'm not accepting free drinks and I'm not going to be summoned by some Eric. He can get his own ass here if he wants to say something to me."

A very masculine voice purred, "Well, that's good, because I am here, and I want to know why you haven't taken the drink or come when you were summoned."

I looked up quickly to glance into the piercing blue eyes of my newest visitor, and quickly looked away, refusing to be affected by his dangerous charm (yes, I actually thought that). I snapped, " I don't take orders, first of all- I mean, what century is this, after all?" "The twenty-first," He responded instantly. "looking at him with some suspicion, I continued, "and really, if you want to talk to someone, you should have come yourself, not sent flunkies after me"

His lips twitched into a smile, "you're calling Pam a flunky?"

Exasperated, I interrupted him, "I'm calling you rude and ignorant if you try to summon someone and give them orders. I mean, if you had asked nicely, I would have come."

There was that sexy smirk again. He leaned in (and in, and in- the man had to have been over six feet tall!) to place his mouth next to my ear. "So, if I ask nicely, you'll come with me?"

Both his blatant innuendo and surprisingly cold breath affected me deeply, but I refused to show it and said, "Yes, I just might."

He straightened, though he was still smiling seductively. "Well, then, Miss Stackhouse," I wondered how he knew my name, but then realized that the blonde-Pam- must have told him. "It would give me extreme pleasure if you would come with me to my office."

Too far into this to refuse (oh, who am I kidding, I wanted to see what all the glowing-and sexiness- was about) I took the hand he was offering and said, "The pleasure would be all mine." Um, wow. I didn't mean for it to sound like that, but it just kind of slipped out. His smirk grew and he led me through the crowd.