Chapter Twenty-Five – Pissing in the Wind

SPOV

How could Eric not want to find out what happened to him? It didn’t make any sense to me. And after seeing how he reacted to Callaghan attacking me, I imagined the old Eric wouldn’t have been any kinder to whoever had assaulted him.

Speaking of attacks…

Thankfully he seemed too lost in his own thoughts to realize where the majority of mine had been stuck on a continuous loop for the last hour. You’d think she’d be snoring away after her big O-ment, but no. Now that she’d gotten a preview of his skills, Betty had been on an Olivia Newton-John kick, alternating between singing the, “You have to believe we are magic,” chorus from Xanadu and then following up with, “Let’s get physical.”

It was 80’s night in my underwear. I almost felt compelled to go in search of a can of Aqua Net and giant hoop earrings.

Instead I forced myself to just bite, chew, and swallow. Both my sandwich and every urge I had yelling at me to offer him dessert. It was a difficult task considering he was my first climax companion.

A cum collaborator, if you will.

I’d never had an orgasm brought on by anyone else and boy had I been missing out. My defenses had already been down so my shields were a long forgotten memory, but with Eric I didn’t need them. My mind was empty of every thought except for Betty’s and it made me wonder just how much better it could be if we went any farther.

But that was the problem.

I hadn’t planned on letting things go that far. If I was honest it was only a hair farther than Eric and I had ever gone before, so I could only hope he wouldn’t get bent out of shape about it once his memories returned. If he did I would just be a hair less than honest and blame my concussion along with his David Copperfield magic hands.

Hocus pocus…your pussy is my focus!

Thank God I was the only telepath in the room.

It had been oddly comforting to share that little tidbit with him. I hadn’t talked about it with anyone since my childhood and it hadn’t occurred to me to mention it during our confessional the night after the attack. But with him being so candid about what else was out there, it was nice finally coming out with it while knowing I wasn’t the only freak in the world. It made me wonder now about the other minds I’d come across, like Mr. Fuckity Fuck’s, whose were harder for me to read.

Were douchebags a part of the supernatural spectrum too?

I might have assumed he had something to do with Eric’s missing memories, now that I could also assume he wasn’t quite human thanks to his snarly brain. But other than his degrading thoughts about me and his occasional stray thought about the races, I knew without a doubt his loyalty to Eric was absolute. It was the only thing I had ever found redeeming about the man and it was what made me begrudgingly shove his douchebag ass into my mental ‘Maybe’ column on who might be able to help us. If he was a part of the supernatural world, then maybe he would have an idea of how this had happened to Eric. And how to set him to rights.

It was a big if though.

With my brain now stuck on the daunting task that lay before us, I was no longer interested in my sandwich and put my plate down, wondering what our next move should be. While I wasn’t up to driving back to New Orleans right now, I hoped to be able to convince him to go with me the following night. It was a longshot, but as far as I could see it was our only shot. Now that I knew witches, among other things, were real it made me realize there was likely something unnatural at work.

Something supernatural

So had Mr. Charming himself been charmed?

An abracadabra attack almost made sense. If his safe could be magically shielded, then why not his memories? How else could he have lost some of them, but still know other things? If bullets did nothing more than ruin a vampire’s wardrobe, I doubted a hit to the head would do anything more than piss them off.

Unless of course he’d just eaten someone who’d been roofied?

After having been his dinner just a little while ago, and knowing firsthand how he liked to play with his food, I really didn’t want to think about it. So I forced myself to anyway.

They were forever extoling the dangers of GHB and warning us coeds about it on campus. But even if that had been the case, I knew the effects would have worn off by now. So that left me with fairytale creatures and their magical byproducts as my only suspects.

“Are witches the only ones who can do magic?” I asked, wanting to narrow down the suspect pool.

I hadn’t noticed the image of a Death Eater’s Dark Mark in the sky the night before, but theoretically the hurricane could’ve blown it away.

“No,” he replied, finally coming back from wherever his mind had taken him to. Searching through whatever was left of his memories for a moment, he added, “The very essence of a fairy is based in magic and they are able to wield it as such. Brownies and elves can perform enchantment spells, but only to effect nature. Like making a flower bloom or getting trees to grow.” Looking back at me like he’d merely explained why the sky was blue and not something that should be illustrated with Mother Goose or the Brothers Grimm, he asked, “Why?”

Why?

Witches and fairies. Brownies and elves.

With magical green thumbs to boot.

Maybe he had Aladdin’s lamp around here somewhere and I could rub out a genie on it and wish his memory back?

‘Check his pants!’

Yep. Betty had already seen the light.

Getting back to the task at hand, which sadly for Betty wasn’t located in his pants, I asked, “Whatever happened to you, had to have been from magic, right? I mean, I’ve seen a vampire heal from a bullet wound in under a minute, so I doubt someone clubbed you on the head.” Wondering if perhaps it was just wishful thinking he hadn’t been playing with his roofied food before he found me, I forced myself to add, “Unless…you ate someone who was drugged? Would tainted blood affect a vampire?”

While that vampire played with the person’s taint?

I felt myself scowl just thinking it, but he didn’t seem to notice and answered, “Only in their taste. The chemicals in their blood would not affect a vampire’s mental state.” After another moment he agreed, “Magic does seem like the only logical conclusion.”

Great. To me it would seem easier to find a magically delicious leprechaun for him to snack on and turn himself back to normal.

While I was relieved, I was still concerned. My only other connection to the supernatural world was Claudine and while I wanted to talk to her. To ask her the questions she might actually have the answers to, I didn’t trust her.

Not with Eric.

I trusted her with me. Even if she had left me to be bulldozed by a telephone pole, I remembered quite well how safe and protected she’d made me feel as a child. I also remembered very well the stories she’d told me about fairies and vampires at war with one another. And recalling how she chose to exact justice from my Uncle Bartlett, I didn’t want to let her get within two shakes of her pixie dust near Eric just in case.

Hopefully she hadn’t already doled out her brand of fairy fairness by being the one responsible for Eric to lose his memories. But I’d sure as hell ask her if she popped in again.

“I don’t suppose you remember anything useful about witches, do you?” I asked. “Like if they congregate around bubbling cauldrons nearby? Or maybe they’re in the yellow pages?”

I could only assume, like humans and vampires, there were good witches and bad witches. I just didn’t know where Glenda might be hanging her hat and wanted to avoid Bellatrix Lestrange at all costs.

“No,” he replied, not sounding too upset about it and seeming more interested in playing with my fingers.

Of course he wasn’t upset. He wanted to play house forever too.

I ignored the ‘Home Sweet Home’ sign Betty put up outside her door before flinging herself down as the doormat with her legs wide open yelling, ‘Cum on in!’ and went back to the basics.

Why would someone want Eric to lose his memories? What could be gained from him not being able to remember who he was?

I’d read page after page of every little detail the FBI had been able to gather about him. Of course they’d missed out on the not so little detail of him being a vampire, but their shoddy work was all I had to work with.

He was smart. He was successful. He was wealthy. He was a loner.

He wasn’t too shabby looking either.

But who would have anything to gain by him forgetting who he was? He had no business partners. But he seemed to have a hand in every facet of his business dealings, so maybe it was a financial move?

It was the accountant? In the study? With his iMac?

Too bad I never saw those cards in any Hasbro Clue box.

But it was something and since we were well past the days of me scrolling through his rolodex, I did the next best thing. I got up and grabbed his laptop from his desk, hoping it would have a list of contacts I could at least do some research on. When I took the seat next to him again, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Research,” I answered. “I’m going to take the unimaginative route and assume whoever did this to you, did it for financial gain.”

If it was some sort of lame failed love potion instead, we were screwed.

Or rather, he was. But then I guess I was too because if he couldn’t remember, we weren’t screwing.

He scowled at the computer now sitting in my lap and rectified whatever slight he must have felt by pulling my ass onto his. “Much better,” he smiled and contented himself with giving me my own temporary case of amnesia by running his hands along my body.

He had really long arms. They matched his really big hands.

What was I about to do?

‘Eric! You were about to do Eric!’

His hands were curious, slowly mapping out every part of me that he could reach.

Did I mention he had really long arms?

When he attempted to push the laptop aside on his way to Google map Betty, I put an end to his informal sexploration. Holding the computer in place like it was an anti-vampire vagina-kade, I asked, “What are you doing?”

“Research,” he smirked. “My route is a much more imaginative one and I assume we’ll both have gained very much when I’m done.”

His flirty eyes never left mine while he attempted to breach my coochie cordon. So I ignored him and looked away, adding blinders to my arsenal and turning on his computer while he tried to do the same to my body. It turned out Eric had more success because instead of finding any answers, I found his computer telling me to fuck off by being password protected. And unless what I now knew to be his magically talented fingers could type out the unknown key and make it cum to life, it was a hopeless endeavor. I had my own laptop sitting out in the car, but I didn’t bother retrieving it, assuming his Wi-Fi was locked as tight as a drum.

Speaking of drums…

I could feel the base coming through loud and clear. He’d been teasing my body the whole time and I’d done my best to ignore it. But my willpower was only at half-power after his little exhibition earlier and it was making my panties scream and shout.

Only instead of Will. I. Am it sounded a lot more like Sook. I. Eeeeeeee!

Trying to keep his hands on the ‘PG’ places on my body instead of the ‘R’ ones he kept going for was like trying to lasso a wild horse with shoestring licorice.

“Why are you feeling frustrated, lover?”

That depends on if you’re asking me or Betty.

She wanted to tame his bucking bronco by riding him reverse cowgirl style, but the larger part of me knew we couldn’t.

Or rather, we shouldn’t.

“I’m just…I…” I stuttered, trying to make my brain overrule Betty’s. Physically and emotionally I was a mess and suddenly feeling overwhelmed by everything we were facing, I admitted, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who we can trust. Or who to even ask. I don’t know anything about your world or who could’ve done this to you. Why they would’ve done this to you. I…I don’t know how to fix you.”

I didn’t know how much longer I could keep denying what we both wanted either and the thought of betraying him again because I was too weak to resist made tears spring to my eyes. Neither one of us were expecting it. Or how to make it stop. But Eric at least tried by saying, “Stop feeling sad. I don’t care if I regain my memories. I only care for you lover.”

My head nestled into his shoulder while his hands ceased their Sookie survey and instead rubbed soothingly up and down my back. It was ridiculous because I was sitting in his lap, but I missed him. The old Eric would know what to do to fix this Eric.

I felt like a failure.

If he managed to get his memories back on his own, he’d never forgive me at this rate.

“I care about you too, Eric,” I sniffled into his shirt. “That’s why I feel like I’m failing you. No matter what you may or may not feel about me with your memories, you wouldn’t want this. I’ve been fortunate enough to have seen your sweet side. That part is still the same, but you’re also fierce. Not just in saving me from attacking vampires, but in life itself. You’re a powerful man, vampire or not, and you wouldn’t want to be like this. So vulnerable.” Knowing he would feel just how close I was to a nervous breakdown and hoping it would work to my advantage, I asked, “Will you go back with me tomorrow?”

I believed him when he said he would be just fine with leaving things as they were. Spending the foreseeable future trying to breach my flimsy defenses and if I knew we’d done all we could do to try and make him better to no avail, I might feel better about giving in. But we hadn’t. Not yet. Going back to New Orleans would at least be a start and was probably our only shot at figuring out who did this to him.

And hopefully my gift would work to our advantage instead of being the cranium catastrophe it had been as of late.

“Returning to New Orleans is important to you,” he said after a while.

“Yes.”

I expected a reciprocal response from him, so I was surprised when he reciprocated my response from the night before instead by asking, “Am I so repulsive to you?” My head snapped up with my eyes meeting his own as he added, “Do you refuse my attention because you find me less desirable without my memories?”

“Of course not,” I automatically responded, but wondering if perhaps he’d gotten a glimpse of my longing from a moment earlier, I explained, “I do miss the old you. The you with your memories would know what to do. You would kick ass and take names.” Seeing the unhappiness in his eyes, I assumed over his mistaken belief I was rejecting him, I hoped to ease his worries by smiling and adding, “All while trying to get into my pants. But I like you as you are now too. You’re still just as sweet and attentive. And I have no doubt you could still kick ass and take names if you knew whose ass to kick. The you as you are now seems to be one and the same in the handsy department too, so it must be a genetic trait.”

His expression didn’t give me any clue as to what he might be thinking. I hypocritically found his ability to sense my moods unfair since my telepathy didn’t work on him, but I kept it to myself and waited for him to say something. Vampires could be really still when they wanted to be since they didn’t have to breathe. Or blink. So when I couldn’t take him being on pause for a second longer, I leaned forward and kissed him. It was only meant to be a peck. A chaste confirmation of my feelings for him.

Lip to lip.

Memories or no.

But I forgot vampires could be really quick too.

As if affirming the truthfulness of my words – and his genetics – he reached down and groped my ass, while he easily moved my body so I was straddling his. His tongue swiped against my own and in the process swiped my memory clean, making me forget what we’d been talking about. With my defenses already down, Betty met no resistance when she led the charge by leading my hands to grope his ass too, playing along in our impromptu game of an adult version of pat-a-cake.

Or would it be called pat-a-pussy?

Our war without words went on until the yellow-bellied coward surrendered, all but begging him to plant his flag in our territory.

He had the upper hand since his flagpole was already leaning against my Iwo Jima.

The former ‘scream and shout’ in my panties turned into a ‘moan and wail’, but I was too far gone to care. He made a very good case for forgetting all about what he’d forgotten. And I let him plead his case until I felt his patty reaching for my cake. Regaining a hold of my sanity and of his wrist, I stopped us both and panted out, “That happens way too easily.”

Or maybe I was just way too easy.

Gran would be appalled and Eric acted just as playfully incensed when he smiled, “Not so easily that you don’t keep stopping me.”

Then why did it feel like I was pissing in the wind?

Or more like getting closer to blowing other bodily fluids out of him.

As daunting a task as it was, like trying to erect the Great Wall of China one brick at a time, I resolved to order some Chinese food for dinner the next night and hope we might find a clue in my fortune cookie. In the meantime, I asked, “What were we talking about?”

I was pretty sure it had seemed important at the time. Almost as important as finding a way to keep from jig-sawing our puzzle pieces together.

His eyes narrowed with his lips quirking to the side as he looked at me and said, “While you like me as I am now, you feel as though you are doing me a disservice by not doing all that you can to return me to my previous state. A state I am not convinced I want to be returned to, but you feel just as strongly otherwise. You proposed we hunt for the perpetrator by returning to New Orleans and have requested I accompany you on your mission. That is the crux, yes?”

His choice of words and tone of voice put me in mind of the old him.

And at the moment it made me even more confused over which version of him I missed more.

Since I was already dealing with more riddles than the Joker, I pushed the thought aside completely and only replied, “Yes.”

I already knew I couldn’t force him to go with me since I couldn’t even force him onto the couch when he stood firm. But I could always go without him.

But I didn’t want to.

I had no doubts he could take care of himself at night. And during the day all he would have to do was shut the doors that led to his vampire Narnia and he’d be plenty safe. But I still felt responsible for him nonetheless and would always prefer having his company over the alternative.

When he didn’t say anything more, I asked, “So, will you go with me?”

It almost looked like it pained him when he finally agreed, “Yes.” But this Eric wasn’t too far off the mark of the old one when he got all business-like and added, “But only if you will agree we will only spend a finite amount of time looking for the magical memory eraser. And if nothing turns up after the agreed upon amount of time we will return here. Where you will agree to give up on the silly notion that I could ever not want you and be mine.”

Huh?

Not knowing which wire needed to be cut on his verbal booby trap that would capture more than just my boobies, I started with the easiest one by asking, “How long are you willing to look for the magical memory eraser?”

Maybe he had the Magic School Bus parked in the back of the garage and Miss Frizzle and her students could help us. Scooby Doo and the gang with the Mystery Machine would probably be a better match though.

They were used to running across vampires and the like.

“One week.”

“A week?” I screeched. Was he nuts? “A month,” I countered. That was how long he was expected to be gone anyways.

“Ten days,” he volleyed back with a small smirk on his lips.

I wanted to lick it off of him.

Instead I kept my tongue to myself and offered, “Twenty-eight.”

Picking the number two for his perfectly kissable lips and eight for how many muscles were in the human tongue. But my train of thought worked against me because thinking of tongues and muscles only made Betty think of another muscle of his she wanted to get her mouth on.

And play it like a flute.

“Two weeks,” he lobbed back and pulled me closer to squeeze the fight out of me with his python-like embrace. I wasn’t sure if two weeks would be long enough considering we had no clue who or what we were even looking for, but his other stipulations were niggling at the back of my brain while his cobra niggled at the crotch of my jeans.

Without agreeing to any amount of time, I asked, “And then what? If we find nothing, you just want to come back here and act like we’re newlyweds on our honeymoon? I can’t do that Eric.”

I wasn’t sure why. I just knew that I couldn’t, no matter how charmed by his snake I was.

“Is that what it will take for you to agree?” he asked. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about until my mouth gaped open hearing him add, “I want you to be mine in every way and will gladly marry you if that is your desire.”

Angry tears sprung from my eye sockets while my heart broke open. Even Betty ducked for cover from the emotional upheaval we were suddenly deluged by and I tore myself free from his grasp, crying out, “Don’t say things like that!”

I never once imagined having a marriage was in my future. Not in my wildest dreams. Not when I couldn’t be myself around any man. Not when there was a price to pay every time I tried to be with one.

But Eric wasn’t any man.

He’d always been something more. More than my boss. More than a possible serial killer. Even more than a vampire. Twenty-four hours earlier I would have paid nearly any price to have him back in my life. But having him practically propose, when he didn’t even know his own name until I told it to him, was breaking my heart into a million pieces.

Worse than finding a fleet of Aston Martin’s at my doorstep, it felt like he’d killed another one of my dreams. Made all the more devastating because it was one I didn’t even know I had until he took it away.

He looked just as surprised by my outburst as I was, but he stood up too and grabbed onto my arm, asking with just as much emotion, “Why? Why do you get so upset when I am only telling you the truth of how I feel about you?” Answering his own question, he pulled me closer as I tried to pull away and said, “I know you believe if I was still myself – if I remembered the life I had led that I would not be here with you now. Perhaps you are correct. But I can tell you with absolute certainty, if that were the case, I would be miserable. I know because while there is nothing but darkness in my mind until I first laid eyes on you, it wasn’t feeling your fear or despair that drew me to find you. It was my own. As soon as I had you in my sights it all went away. Because as soon as I saw you I knew I was home. Whatever my foolhardy actions were before then, what I feel for you I feel at my core. Like I intrinsically know I am vampire, I know with just as much certainty I am yours. And while I admire your reason for denying us both of what we truly want, I cannot accept your fervent belief that any scenario in which you would not be mine is what I would want.”

He wiped the tears still falling from my eyes, now for a different reason, and said, “Believe anything else you wish, but know that is the truth.”

He seemed so sincere and god knows I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him with my whole heart, but my heart wasn’t whole at the moment. It was still in a million pieces and I was still too afraid to try and scotch tape it back together before giving it to him again so soon. His declaration made me think of Mark Twain who once said, ‘If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.’

But could it still be the truth when you’ve forgotten everything?

I guessed only time would tell.