The witches held hands together, surrounding him. Do they really think this is going to work? He thought. It was almost laughable to him. He was Eric Northman. A vampire, for fuck's sake. There was no way a witch could overpower him. Bill had told him the coven brought a dead bird back to life, but that was nothing compared to the power needed when fighting against a vampire. But suddenly the room became dark. The grip he had on Lafayette's cousin was quickly loosening. He heard Marnie calling out in another language. What was she saying? He knew it was familiar, he'd known many languages throughout his thousand years. But for some reason, his mind was processing slowly. Marnie's words were getting louder. Latin. He thought. It's Latin.
Marnie stepped closer, her voice increasing in volume. She was calling out, calling to beings beyond her own world. It seemed her face was changing before his eyes, flashing someone or something else. Eric tried to reach out to her, silencing her in any way that he could. But he found himself feeling frozen. A strong, tall Viking such as he was unable to fight back. His feet seemed to be cemented in the ground. How could this be happening? His senses were going haywire. The scents of human blood, sweat, perfume, incense, flame, and candle wax surrounded him. Eric focused once again on Marnie as her firm chants formed into yells. And, just as quickly as the chaos began, everything suddenly stopped.
What the fuck? He thought. He stood silent and blank, staring at the bewildered faces in front of him. He wanted to kill them all, every last one of them. Thoughts of draining all of them came to his mind. Or perhaps I could lock them up in the Fangtasia basement. He considered. No, it certainly wouldn't be wise to take that chance. Marnie clearly failed in over powering him, but until he could wrap his head around what happened, he wouldn't be making any moves. He needed to get the hell out of there. He could always come back with Pam later and take them by surprise. With his age and power, he knew from experience it was much better to have a plan than act on impulse. At vampire speed, Eric sped off into the night. Wandering the streets, he glanced at the humans walking around late at night. He smirked. They all feared him, and he liked it. After all, he was untouchable.
Tired of the human vermin scattering away from him on the sidewalks, Eric took off into the sky. Flying was a bit of a special talent he had, one that not many vampires possessed. He had likely inherited that trait from Godric, his maker. Inside he still hurt for him, still upset that Godric had chosen to meet the true death. As Eric began to recall memories of his maker, they started becoming fuzzy. It seemed he couldn't recall years, details, or even places. What was I even thinking about anyway? He thought, feeling confused. Dizziness took over him. His precise vision began to blur. As a vampire cursed to walk in the dark, it seemed to be getting even darker than usual around him. His eyes wandered the sky for any hint of light. Where had the stars gone? He wondered. Darkness consumed him. A weightlessness fell over him. He felt the sensation of something rough and thin snapping and scraping all over his body. A rustling sound tickled at his ears. Trees, perhaps? The scent of the earth was becoming stronger to him. He was falling.