From Dead to Worse

have been running things,” Eric said. “Gervaise perished in the bombing, of course; that leaves me, Cleo, and Arla Yvonne. It would have been clearer if Andre had survived.” I felt a twinge of panic and guilt. I could have saved Andre. I’d feared and loathed him, and I hadn’t. I’d let him be killed.
    Eric was silent for a minute, and I wondered if he was picking up on the fear and guilt. It would be very bad if he ever learned that Quinn had killed Andre for my sake. Eric continued, “Andre could have held the center because he was so established as the queen’s right hand. If one of her minions had to die, I wish I could have picked Sigebert, who’s all muscles and no brains. At least Sigebert’s there to guard her body, though Andre could have done that and guarded her territory as well.”
    I’d never heard Eric so chatty about vampire affairs. I was beginning to have an awful creeping feeling that I knew where he was headed.
    “You expect some kind of takeover,” I said, and felt my heart plummet. Not again. “You think Jonathan was a scout.”
    “Watch out, or I’ll begin to think you can read my mind.” Though Eric’s tone was light as a marshmallow, his meaning was a sharp blade hidden inside.
    “That’s impossible,” I said, and if he thought I was lying, he didn’t challenge me. Eric seemed to be regretting telling me so much. The rest of our talk was very brief. He told me again to call him at the first sight of Jonathan, and I assured him I’d be glad to.
    After I’d hung up, I didn’t feel quite as sleepy. In honor of the chilly night I pulled on my fleecy pajama bottoms, white with pink sheep, and a white T-shirt. I unearthed my map of Louisiana and found a pencil. I sketched in the areas I knew. I was piecing my knowledge together from bits of conversations that had taken place in my presence. Eric had Area Five. The queen had had Area One, which was New Orleans and vicinity. That made sense. But in between, there was a jumble. The finally deceased Gervaise had had the area including Baton Rouge, and that was where the queen had been living since Katrina damaged her New Orleans properties so heavily. So that should have been Area Two, due to its prominence. But it was called Area Four. Very lightly, I traced a line that I could erase, and would, after I’d looked at it for a bit.
    I mined my head for other bits of information. Five, at the top of the state, stretched nearly all the way across. Eric was richer and more powerful than I’d thought. Below him, and fairly even in territory, were Cleo Babbitt’s Area Three and Arla Yvonne’s Area Two. A swoop down to the Gulf from the south-westernmost corner of Mississippi marked off the large areas formerly held by Gervaise and the queen, Four and One respectively. I could only imagine what vampiric political contortions had led to the numbering and arrangement.
    I looked at the map for a few long minutes before I erased all the light lines I’d drawn. I glanced at the clock. Nearly an hour had passed since my conversation with Eric. In a melancholy mood, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. After I climbed into bed and said my prayers, I lay there awake for quite a while. I was pondering the undeniable truth that the most powerful vampire in the state of Louisiana, at this very point in time, was Eric Northman, my blood-bonded, once-upon-a-time lover. Eric had said in my hearing that he didn’t want to be king, didn’t want to take over new territory; and since I’d figured out the extent of his territory right now, the size of it made that assertion a little more likely.
    I believed I knew Eric a little, maybe as much as a human can know a vampire, which doesn’t mean my knowledge was profound. I didn’t believe he wanted to take over the state, or he would have done so. I did think his power meant there was a giant target pinned to his back. I needed to try to sleep. I glanced at the clock again. An hour and a half since I’d talked to Eric.
    Bill glided into my room quite silently.
    “What’s up?” I asked, trying to keep my voice very quiet, very calm, though every nerve in my body had started shrieking.
    “I’m uneasy,” he said in his cool voice, and I almost laughed. “Pam had to leave for Fangtasia. She called me to take her place here.”
    “Why?”
    He sat in the chair in the corner. It was pretty dark in my room, but the curtains weren’t drawn completely shut and I got some illumination from