Swimming to the Light (Southern Vampire Mystery)

Chapter 7 - A Freshening Breeze

Shreveport:

Pam leaned back in her office chair. It had been a long night. Business had been brisk. Even though she wasn't obligated to hold court anymore she still spent her hours in the chair. She told anyone who asked that is was market research. In reality, it made her feel close to her maker.

Indira had headed home. Cash out and receipts were completed. Thalia was lounging on the office couch across from her, giving Pam the reptile stare. Pam really had no excuse to delay the call any longer.

Earlier in the evening Pam had listened to Max's voice mail. "Saw Sookie. She's the same. Ludwig says to tell you tick tick." It left her stewing. She started when she heard Thalia growl.

"Well, blondie. It's up to you. But whatever it is, you should probably just get it done." Thalia leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knee and fixing Pam with a stare. "I can guess what it's about. Waiting never makes these things easier. Stop playing with it. Pull the scab and let it drain."

Pam nodded, both to herself and to Thalia. She jerked her chin toward the white noise box and started dialing the private number of Queen Maude, ruler of Minnesota. Thalia switched the box on, then looked pointedly at the door. Pam shook her head and Thalia re-seated herself on the couch.

Pam heard a familiar, booming voice before the second ring. "Oh goodness! Pamela D, is it really you?" Pam felt the smile overtake her face. There was something about hearing Maude's Midwest accent that made her feel warm and happy.

When Eric had released her Pam had not known what to do. She had felt uneasy. No, that was an understatement. She had felt adrift. Eric had always taken care of her; determined her course of action, critiqued and approved her plans. He had been a doting and attentive maker.

In retrospect he had been overprotective in many ways. Not when it came to physical punishment, though. He had aggressively trained her in the use of her hands and weapons. She had spent countless hours sparring with him. When she started to hold her own, he hired a variety of fighting masters to further her training. There had been days that she thought she couldn't possibly heal from the damage she sustained. When she complained about her injuries, Eric would throw his head back and laugh that great, booming, infectious laugh. He would call her out, telling her if she was insisting on whining she should think about joining a knitting group. Pam knew now that Eric had known her all along. He had seen the killer in her, lurking below the surface.

Pam never felt more alive than she did when she engaged in physical combat. There was something about the ability to fight hard that appealed to her on a fundamental level. No. That wasn't it. Pam knew that the joy she felt in battle had its roots in her upbringing as a lady in a strict, Victorian household. In those moments when she was circling her opponent, landing blows and gauging weaknesses, she knew that she experienced deep and profound gratitude. Had she not become vampire; had Eric Northman not found her and made a decision to change her life, she would never have known what she was truly meant to be: a warrior woman; terrible and glorious.

Things were so easy when she was fighting. Things were not so easy or clear when the battle was over. Having Eric cut her loose had felt like the end of her world. She remembered sitting in a small, light tight crypt in Savannah, wondering what she would do. She knew she was smart. She knew she had talent. She knew she loved the better things in life that money could buy.

Eric had not left her destitute. She had an ample bank account and introductions. She supposed she was in a stronger position than most young creatures when they are pushed into the world by their parents.

Over the next few days, Pam had made notes, recalling everything she could about the list of names Eric had provided. She made lists of what she felt she could offer them and what she thought they might be able to offer her. Each evening she slipped out, gliding through the live oak and Spanish moss to the squares of the city to feed. Finally the list came down to two names: Minnesota and New York. In the end, Pam had chosen Minnesota, not because it was clearly the best choice, but because Maude was female and New York was ruled by a male.