Christian and I didn't come back to Bon Temps until well past midnight. When John stopped the car in the driveway, we found Maxwell and—to my utter dismay—Bill waiting for us on the front porch.

"Where have you been?" Maxwell demanded once Christian stepped out holding a surplus of shopping bags in each hand.

"New Orleans, to get Sookie's clothes." Christian sprang up the steps.

"You didn't have to take her all the way down there for something like that!" Maxwell snapped, looking positively irritated. In his hands were several books, most of which looked too thick to be read in leisure. Several papers and Post-Its were stuffed in between the pages and scrawled with what could only have been Maxwell's handwriting.

"The only high-end designer stores in this state are in New Orleans. Where else was I suppose to take her?" Christian countered.

"Are you forgetting the schedule? You get her during the day while I'm supposed to have her at night!"

"So?"

"Look what time it is!" Maxwell yelled. "It's damn near one in the morning!"

"Thanks." I murmured to John as I shut the door to the Mercedes Benz. After waving his offers to help me carry my bags, I hobbled across the driveway, doing my best to ignore the ensuing argument between Maxwell and Christian. I tried to walk faster, hoping to get into the house without Bill saying a word to me.

"Here, let me get that."

Too late. In the blink of an eye, Bill was already standing next to me and had taken a good portion of my load from my hands.

"Give them back please."

"Sookie, you look tired." His voice was tinged with concern.

"I'm perfectly well, thank you. Now if you can hand over my clothes, that'd be great."

Bill, naturally, refused and proceeded to walk ahead of me with the bags in tow. Fuming, I followed him but when I got out the key and unlocked my door, I motioned for Christian to get inside.

"I guess you're here for me, right?" I dully asked Maxwell. "Come on in."

"Thank you, Ms. Stackhouse." said Maxwell as he crossed the threshold with his books in hand. Once he slipped away, Bill and I were left alone.

How strange it was to be left in a position that we hadn't been in for weeks, for months. We stood on the porch, not knowing where to begin or even how to act towards each other. Bill kept a respectful distance of about 15 feet and was avoiding my gaze.

In spite of myself, I had to take a look.

His hair was cut differently but his face was still recognizable, and sadly, I realized, it would always be familiar. Always. That straight nose, the lines of hardship etched into his ivory skin, and those expressive eyes that could say so much in one glance. I truly wished at that moment that he wasn't so beautiful. If he were ugly or dumb as a stump, it would've been easy for me to forget. To hate.

"You can leave them on the porch." I nodded toward the shopping bags.

"How are you doing?" Bill tentatively asked in an attempt to dispel the awkwardness.

"Fine and dandy." My voice was brittle. "I'm sure Eric's filled you in on everything."

"He has." Bill confirmed as he lowered my clothes near the door. "I also told him my concerns."

"Nice of you to look out for me." I tartly noted.

Bill's lips thinned into a tight line. This was hard for him, I could see that. My replies weren't doing him much good but he didn't dare try to tell me to talk differently. He had no right to do that and we both knew he deserved to hear every harsh word that existed in the English language.

"Sookie, you cannot go." His eyes leveled with mine. "Taking you across the country was one thing but traveling to Europe is an entirely different matter. Eric is putting you in serious danger."

"So did you." I lowered my voice to keep my temper in check. "Whether I'm with you or Eric, I'll always be at risk and it aint nothing new." I bent down to retrieve my newly bought clothes when I felt a hand, waxy cool to the touch, curve against my shoulder. The contact sent a terrible wave of nausea through me.

I stood up abruptly. "Don't you touch me."

"I'm sorry." Bill stepped back. He didn't come near me again but lingered on the porch.

"You're going then?" He asked me after some time passed.

I refused to look at him. "From the way Eric talked to me, he made it sound like I didn't have a choice."

"You do." was Bill's reply.

I thought back to the moment Dr. Bloomsbury told me about the melanoma. Bile rose in my mouth but I swallowed it back and forced myself to stay calm. No, I really didn't have a choice. If I did, I wouldn't have been standing alone in front of my house with my ex-boyfriend. Nor would I be harassed by Eric into going overseas or having to think about my eventual funeral.

When I looked up, I caught Bill's gaze. You know that cliché phrase 'he looked right into my soul'? That was exactly what I felt at that moment. His eyes calculatingly roved over my face as though he were searching for an answer to an unspoken question, a question he didn't want to ask.

"Sookie."

"Good night." I entered the house and closed the door as fast as I could. I stood there, my back pressed against the glass panel and lace curtain. I waited, counting my breaths as I did and soon enough, my patience was rewarded.

When I peeked outside, Bill was gone.

Now when you've had an exhausting day, you want to return home, plop on the couch, and bask in the quiet stillness of your house. Unfortunately I wasn't given that luxury because the minute I walked in, chaos erupted.

"—don't give a damn about your stupid haute couture!" I heard Maxwell go at it in the parlor.

"Well I guess that explains why you dress like a hobo." Christian acidly replied.

"I'm a professor at one of the nation's most prestigious universities." said Maxwell coldly. "The circles I attend could care less about my appearance."

"Is everything all right?" I spoke up.

"Sookie, can I stay here?" Christian immediately asked once I shut the door. When he saw my face, he pouted. "Aw, come on! I can't stand being with this prick at that creepy house." He glared at Maxwell.

"The feeling's mutual." Maxwell glowered.

I hesitated. The idea of Christian temporarily living under my roof didn't thrill me but there were several factors to consider. One: I understood Christian's unwillingness to sleep in a place with not one but two vamps. Two: if Christian stayed here, that was one less reason to stop by Bill's place.

"...Okay." I consented, much to Christian's delight. "You can take my room, the one next to the bathroom. I'll sleep in the master bedroom."

I walked into the parlor and sat myself on one of Gran's chaise lounges. Maxwell had placed his books and the binders I found this morning on the coffee table.

"Thanks Sookie!" Christian practically skipped as he went out the door to retrieve his things from Compton House. In show of his gratitude, just as he left, he blew a kiss in my direction.

Maxwell sighed, looking relieved when the door closed.

"I'm terribly sorry for my behavior, Ms. Stackhouse." He apologized as he seated himself next to me. "I consider myself a person with excellent self control but Mr. Badgley…" he shook his head "…seems to have a gift for driving people insane."

"I understand." I wryly smiled.

"So," Maxwell took off his cap and picked up one of the binders. He looked so normal then, just sitting there on the chaise lounge and casually reading through the material that I just had to ask in order to double-check.

"You're a vampire right?"

"Ah…yes." He smoothed the top of his jet black hair with his right hand, looking somewhat embarrassed though I didn't know why. "I'm not a very old one though. I was turned in 1965."

Forty-two years since then, I calculated in my head. "How do you know Eric, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, Mr. Northman? I'm actually not very well acquainted with him but I have rendered my services for Her Majesty, Queen Sophie-Anne in the past. She was the one who recommended me to him."

"You said you're a professor?" I remembered.

"Sociology and political science. But my specialty is the cultural and political workings of European vampire societies, which is why I'm here." Maxwell added. "When you go to France, you'll need to prepared and made aware of what kind of 'environment' you'll be entering."

"What exactly am I gonna be doing?"

Maxwell leaned forward and handed me one of the binders. "Learning who's who. It'll make it easier for you to know which mind to read and what role that person plays in Credit Suisse or any other institution they are affiliated with."

I sat up straighter. "Wait you know…?"

"Yes, Mr. Northman made Mr. Badgley and me aware of your ability." A slow smile spread across Maxwell's face. "He also told us that you are quite stubborn."

"I am." I agreed.

"But not to learning, I hope?"

"As long as you got manners." I flipped the binder open. "The only reason why I'm hard with Eric is because he's a jackass."

Maxwell looked amused.

"He really is." I said.

"Let's begin, shall we?" I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh. He glanced at the clock. "Unfortunately our lesson will have to be short but I'm sure it won't be a problem? You must be exhausted after today's trip."

"I am pretty tired." I affirmed. "But I think I can last for an hour, maybe two."

"Perfect."

The binders, it turned out, were organized in two ways. One held the personal information of every major executive in Credit Suisse. The other was dedicated to French aristocrats, human and vampire, who were well known in Parisian society. Both sets of people, Maxwell explained, would be present at many of the events that I was going to infiltrate.

"I'm sure Mr. Northman told you about Feodore?" Maxwell asked as he flipped the pages.

"A little."

"What do you know about her so far?"

I paused. "She's a queen. A real one with some kind of family connection?"

"Yes." Maxwell nodded. "Her official title is Queen Mother but the European media refer her as the Merovingian Queen, in reference to her familial background. She is the daughter of Theuderic I, king of Rheims and subsequently the granddaughter of Clovis I."

"I'm sorry but who's Clovis?"

Unlike Christian, who would've scoffed and not taken the time to elaborate, Maxwell was very patient with me. "Clovis was king of the Franks, a Germanic tribe who ruled the area that is now known as France. He had four sons whom he split his empire with and Theuderic, Feodore's father, was one of those sons."

"So that makes her a princess."

"More or less, yes." Maxwell nodded. "The human historical record loses track of her after her marriage but in the vampire world, she is well known. Partly because she has an equally famous maker."

"Eric said he was a…'Caesar'?" I recalled.

"Yes he was." Maxwell replied, setting the binder down and reaching for one of his books. After a short perusal, he handed the book back and pointed out a specific page.

Unknown

Psmatik III, Pharaoh of Lower and Upper Egypt (525 B.C.-1990 A.D.)

Titus Flavius Vespasianus, Emperor of Rome (81 A.D)

Theodechild of the Franks, Princess of Rheims (527 A.D) | Constantine Doukas of Byzantium, former Heir Presumptive (1095 A.D)| Richard of Shrewsbury, 1st Duke of York (1490 A.D-1603 A.D.)

Under Theodechild, a single line stemmed from her name and split into two persons: Louis-Charles de Bourbon and Marie Elisabeth Sainte-Claire, both made in the mid 1800's. I guess Constantine got around because beneath his name, there were seven vampires, all created in different time periods. One was even turned as recently as 1988.

"I guess they like to turn only royals huh?" I noted.

"Indeed." Maxwell agreed with me. "What you're seeing here is the vampiric bloodline Feodore is a part of and if you turn the page," he paused, "you'll find her human one."

"Wow." I pored over the sprawling family tree. "They sure bred like rabbits…ten kids?"

I was goggled over one particular name in bold that I had seen earlier: Louis-Charles. A double line linked him to Marie Elisabeth, who was a distant but definite descendant of Feodore. Below their names were a series of children, six girls and four boys. Some died as babies, others as teens, but a couple of them made it to adulthood and managed to squeeze out a couple more kids for the next generation.

"But he was turned." I pointed at Louis' name. "And so was his wife."

"Feodore made them into vampires when they were dying from diptheria." Maxwell elaborated. "She had to save them, seeing as how Louis-Charles was the only surviving male from the direct line of the Bourbons. I think it was more of a stratgetic move though....without Louis, Feodore's ties to the throne would've been considerably weaker. Marrying her descendant to him wasn't enough, for her, anyway."

"You mean Marie Elisabeth?"

But before Maxwell could reply, we heard the door open. "I'm heeeeeeeeeeeeeere!"

"Oh dear god." Maxwell groaned at the sound of Christian coming into the house.

"Thanks for letting me stay, Sookie!" I heard as he sauntered up the stairs, trailing his suitcases after him.

"So to add a face to the name." Maxwell replaced the book in my hands with one of the binders once he heard the door to Christian's room shut. "This is Feodore. It's a state portrait that was taken several months ago but it's the most recent photo I have of her."

I was surprised. Feodore was what Gran would've called a "classic beauty" but unlike most vampires of her position, who tended to be emotionless and unapproachable, she looked gentle. Even kind. She certainly played the part of a queen what with her crown and fancy white dress but her expression was serene, not haughty, and she was even smiling a little. It was hard to believe, let alone imagine, Sophie-Anne and Eric being intimidated by her.

"Feodore's a bit of a recluse these days." Maxwell's voice floated by my ear. "But she's still active in managing Credit Suisse and with her other business associates." He turned the page for me. "Now this is Louis-Charles or Louis XVII as he's known to the public."

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed. "He looks just like Andy!"

Maxwell was puzzled. "Who?"

"Andy Bellefleur." I giggled, marveling over the resemblance. "He's a cop here in Bon Temps. Goddamn, Louis could be his twin!"

"Don't address him that way if you meet him and his wife." Maxwell warned. "Unless they tell you otherwise, you must address them as 'votre majesté' at all times."

I blinked. "Vo-tray what?"

"It's French for 'Your Majesty.' Louis XVII and Marie Elisabeth were recently acknowledged as the King and Queen of France—"

"Oh I love her!"

Maxwell and I turned around to find Christian standing near the parlor entrance. In a matter of minutes, he had managed to strip down to his PJs and was unabashedly wearing a face masque.

"Sorry, couldn't help overhearing." Christian glided over and plopped right down on the sofa.

"Oh for heaven's sake, leave us alone." Maxwell scowled.

"Why?" Christian raised his caked brows. "I know Marie Elisabeth just as well as you do, probably better."

"Really?" Maxwell shut the genealogy book in a snap. "Then why don't you explain to Ms. Stackhouse then?" He challenged.

"Sure thing!" Christian clapped his hands. Turning to me, he declared, "Marie Elisabeth is the fashion icon of the millennium. It's like having Marie Antoinette back in 2007!"

Maxwell rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"She is amazing. Her taste and style are so dead on. She never, ever makes it on the Worst Dressed list. Ever! Do you know how much of a miracle that is? I heard she's super fun too."

"Really." I commented without much interest but Christian's mouth had already run away from him.

"Look, look, look!" He rapidly flipped through one of the binders then stopped at a photograph and eagerly tapped at a certain photograph.

My jaw dropped.

A woman with a perfect—too perfect—oval face and bright green eyes gazed at me with a kind of expression that you found on Playboy models. Silky platinum blond hair swirled down her bare back and stopped at her tiny waist, and lord was it tiny compared to her bosom. Until I saw Marie Elisabeth, I didn't think it was possible for somebody to simultaneously look like a freak of nature and a world-class supermodel.

"I know, she's gorgeous isn't she?" Christian rhapsodized.

"You've got to be kidding me." I stared at the picture and glanced at another adjacent photograph of Marie Elisabeth puckering her lips à la Marilyn Monroe. "She's related to Feodore?"

I fleetingly thought of the elegant vampire whose portrait I'd seen just moments before. With her, it had been easy to see that she was royalty but Marie Elisabeth was like a goddamn porn star.

"She is," was Maxwell's dry input, "though I can assure you, Marie Elisabeth didn't look like that in the past." To demonstrate his point, he turned the page to reveal several paintings featuring her and Louis as they were in the 1800's. I compared a miniature of Marie Elisabeth as a fresh-faced brunette to the photograph of her as a done up blonde.

Well it didn't take a genius to figure out which version was better looking, in my opinion.

"As I was saying earlier," I heard Maxwell recommence, "Louis XVII and his wife were officially designated their titles in 2004 after hefty negotiations by Feodore and the French prime minister. The two agreed that the monarchs and their heirs would retain their royal title only but not function. The French Republic made it very clear that the Royal Family won't have any political say whatsoever."

"That doesn't make any sense. What's the point of being called a king or queen if you're not even going to act like one?" I argued.

"Yeah!" Christian seconded.

"Believe me Ms. Stackhouse," Maxwell sounded grave, "the French government doesn't want to resurrect the Ancien Regime. Feodore and her family may be popular but the French are still very much republicans at heart."

I lasted for about thirty more minutes before Maxwell and I called quits. After promising to come by house the next evening and reminding me to start memorizing the Credit Suisse binder, he left, leaving Christian and me to retire for bed.

"That was so boring!" Christian complained as he marched up the stairs.

"It wasn't bad." I shrugged. "I feel like I learned a lot about France and all."

"Whatever." He yawned. When he got to his bedroom, he stopped and turned to me, "By the way, don't forget to activate your Blackberry. What's-her-face…Pam…called me to remind you."

"Pam?"

"Yes indeed." Christian sighed as he retreated into his bedroom. "Good night my Southern Belle."

"G'night." I bid as he fell into bed. Left alone in the hall, I wearily made my way down the stairs again to retrieve the Blackberry. I had left in the kitchen that morning and I figured I would forget to activate it tomorrow. Better to configure the damn thing now then later.

Thanks to the easy directions on the box, I managed to set up the phone in just a few minutes and as soon as the screen lit, an envelope icon appeared.

12 New Messages

I paused at the screen. Who in tarnation would call me that many times in a day? Pressing a few buttons, I checked the call history only to find a single number: 203-575-4192

I selected Call and waited by a couple rings until somebody finally picked up.

"Fangtasia, Pam speaking." A lazy voice drawled amid loud music playing in the background.

"Hi." I stiffly replied.

"Why Sookie Stackhouse....it's been a while. Enjoy today's shopping trip?"

"Do you know how many times you called this phone?" I asked, getting right to the point.

"Sorry." Pam responded, not sounding the least bit sorry at all. "Eric wanted to talk you s'all."

"This badly?" I glanced at the number of times Fangtasia had called.

"Hold on a minute dollface."

"No, no, don't put me through—"

"—Eric." A smooth voice broke in.

I paused.

"I know you're there Sookie."

I licked my lips and pressed them together before I spoke. "Pam said you needed to talk to me?"

"How does my princess like her new clothes? I see she spent quite a lot today."

"Don't call me that." I retorted. Then before he talk back, I jumped in, "What d'you want to talk to me about?"

"Again with the attitude." Eric coolly noted. "I hope you'll be more cooperative when we're in Paris."

"Yeah, speaking of that, Christian gave me some interesting information earlier today."

"Such as?"

"He said that pretending to be your girlfriend was 'part of my cover.'"

If I didn't know any better, I could've sworn that Eric was laughing to himself. "Yes." He confirmed. "I'm sure he told you that you're required to attend several social functions and I'm your only access to those soirees."

"I can get in by myself just fine." I said even though I perfectly knew well that wasn't possible. I just didn't like acknowledging I couldn't do something unless I had Eric's assistance. It'd mean I was weak, dependent on him when that was the last thing I wanted.

"Don't get cocky." He murmured. "You're fascinating for a human, I'll give you that, but there's no way the Parisians will let a nameless little girl enter their hotspots without protest. You need me there, and so does Sophie-Anne."

"I don't want to tell everybody I'm your girlfriend. You know how people would take it here? It'd be like saying I was dating Michael Jackson for Christ's sake."

"Flattering, but I think we can agree that I have a better looking nose," was Eric's response, "besides, I hate kids."

"That's not an attractive trait, you know."

"Be reasonable. A vampire and a mortal woman walking into a club as friends isn't a plausible scenario. It'll only look suspicious unless I claim you as mine. I can at least exclude you as fair game from other vampires if I do that."

"I am not yours." I repeated slowly for Eric to get the message clear.

"But all of Paris doesn't need to know that, do they?" He parried. "In any case, I want to let you know that I've bought the plane tickets. We're leaving on June 26 at Louis Armstrong International in New Orleans. Christian and Maxwell should be done with you before then."

"For the last time, I aint going—"

"Yes you are." Eric cut me off. "Admit it Sookie," his voice softened, "you want to go. You might kick and scream away but we both know it's only a front."

"Excuse me!" I began, outraged.

"If you didn't want to go, you wouldn't have put up with Christian and Maxwell today. You could've ripped the check and took Bill's side on this matter but you did neither. Once you took that envelope from me, you gave your consent."

I could not believe what I was hearing. "What are you talking about? You left the check with me!"

"And you could've destroyed it but you didn't. I saw you pocket it." He replied to my shock. "You want to go. You can say what you want to your friends and to Bill but you can't hide it from me. I know you better."

I opened my mouth to say he was wrong, that he didn't know me at all, but no words came out. Absolutely nothing, not even a damn curse.