Amanda found him where she knew he'd be. Not by instinct. By certainty.
Because he wanted to be found.
Lucan stood near the old water tower just outside town. He wasn't leaning. Wasn't pacing. Just standing, back straight, hands behind him, like a statue watching a battlefield.
She walked up slowly.
He didn't look at her or say anything.
But she could tell he already knew.
"I need to talk to you," she said, voice sharp with fatigue.
"I know."
"Then why are you just standing here?"
He turned now. Not quickly and not with concern. Just turned.
"You ran into him," he said.
It wasn't a question.
She blinked. "The blond. Eric."
Lucan nodded once. "And now you're asking questions."
Amanda stepped closer, arms crossed. "You're the one who said I was connected to something. That I needed to be careful. Well, I wasn't careful. And now I'm seeing people die before they die."
Lucan raised an eyebrow. "Details."
She hesitated. The images. The voices. The names that echoed in her head like they'd belonged to her once. She told him everything. Her voice cracked once, but she kept going.
When she was done, Lucan was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Say something," she snapped.
"I'm thinking."
"You don't get to go cold on me now."
His gaze sharpened. "That's exactly when I go cold."
Amanda stepped back like he'd hit her. Not physically. But it still landed.
He softened. Just slightly.
"You're raw," he said. "Open like a wound. That means the dead will find you. Some will beg. Some will whisper. Some will crawl into you and wear your voice like a mask."
Amanda's hands curled into fists. "I didn't ask for this."
Lucan nodded. "No. But you've got it."
A beat. Then.
"Can you fix it?"
Lucan looked at her for a long time. And said nothing. Amanda felt something in her gut twist. Not anger.
Disappointment.
He wasn't a savior. He wasn't even pretending to be. And for some reason, that hurt more than it should have.
Lucan finally broke the silence. "The more you deny it, the stronger it gets. You want to survive it? You learn how to live with it."
Amanda's jaw tightened. "You're really bad at comfort."
"I don't comfort," he said. "I warn."
She turned without a word and walked away, fast.
He didn't stop her. Didn't watch her go. Just returned his gaze to the horizon, where smoke curled up from the center of town like a signal.
Something had just shifted. And it wasn't her.
-----
Merlotte's was full again.
Not lively. Not festive. Just full.
People were drinking more. Laughing harder. Too hard.
Amanda stood behind the bar and let it all wash over her like she wasn't there. Pour. Wipe. Nod. Smile. Repeat. It was muscle memory at this point. And if she didn't look anyone in the eye, she could almost pretend nothing had changed. Almost.
Around 10 p.m., a man she didn't recognize sat at the end of the bar. Forties. Tan. Rough hands. Faded mechanic's shirt. The kind of man this town grew like weeds.
He smiled at her. It wasn't creepy, just kind.
"Double whiskey," he said, voice gravel-thick.
Amanda poured.
He took a sip, exhaled like it was the first breath he'd had all day.
"Thanks, sweetheart."
And then it hit her.
No warning. No whisper. Just flood.
She blinked and the world around her changed. The bar disappeared. The sound of laughter vanished.
She was in a garage. Alone. Oil on her hands. The sharp stink of gas and steel. A TV flickering in the corner with static.
Then.
A hand clutched his chest.
His knees buckled.
The wrench hit the floor.
She felt the pain. It was real and immediate. His heart gave out in the heat and silence and no one was there to find him until morning.
Reality snapped back. She was back at Merlotte's. The man was still sitting there.
Only now?
He was hunched forward, face down on the bar.
Unmoving.
"Amanda?" Sam's voice cut through the noise, worried.
She didn't answer. Someone else was already rushing to the man's side. Another customer started yelling.
Sam pulled her aside, hands on her shoulders. "What happened?"
"I don't know," she whispered.
"I don't know I don't know I don't-"
She backed away from him, from the body, from the looks. The noise was too loud again. But not around her.
Inside her.
Because the voice of the man was still there. Whispering something in her ear as if he hadn't gone yet. Not quite. And through all of it, in the distance.
Lucan felt it, not the death.
The echo.
The way it bounced off Amanda like she wasn't human anymore.
Like she was becoming something else.
-----
Lucan stood on the roof of a condemned church two miles from Bon Temps. The air smelled like mold, copper, and memory. His shirt flared slightly in the wind. Below him, the treetops hissed against each other like they were trying to warn something.
Too late.
He'd already made his decision. He hadn't seen Amanda since the death at Merlotte's.
He didn't need to. She'd felt it fully now, raw and unfiltered. He knew what that did to a person. He also knew Maryann would come for her again.
Not directly.
Not yet.
But she was circling. And Lucan was done waiting. Below him three people emerged from the trees, staggering, laughing. Drunk on something that wasn't alcohol. One of them wore a deer antler crown made of plastic zip ties and twine. Another had bloody fingers, gnawing on a chicken bone like it was a trophy. The last one, a girl, maybe twenty, was barefoot and dress ripped, singing an old hymn in reverse.
They didn't see him. But they would feel him.
Lucan dropped from the roof. Landed without a sound.
He walked past them and didn't stop.
But the girl stopped singing.
The man dropped his bone.
The one with the crown fell to his knees, shaking.
Lucan kept walking. Their bodies went still. Their minds emptied. Not death. Not glamour. Just presence. Old, heavy and unmistakable. He wanted Maryann to feel it through them. To feel him step into her game without even picking up a piece.
Back in the clearing, near the altar, Maryann sat alone, eyes closed, breathing slowly while fingers traced lines in the dirt.
Then she stopped. Head turned slightly, her smile faded.
Something in the trees had changed. She stood while her gaze went toward town.
And whispered, "Oh... so now you're playing."
Lucan stood at the edge of the road, the three vessels behind him frozen in silence.
He didn't need to say anything. The message was delivered.
I see you.
I'm not afraid.
And now… I'm coming.