A/N: Sorry! I can't help it. I'm pissed at TB and the f*ckery I just watched. Mild spoilers for True Blood season 7 episode 3.
Eight months ago…
Her fangs snapped down when she felt it. She was about to sleep for the day when she felt her death. Her true death.
She took a deep unnecessary breath, her chest heaving as the Maker's command left her body, releasing her from the shackles that had bound her for 29 years. A bloody tear trickled down her cheek. For almost three decades she had been alone. Taken from her family from the moment she rose as one of the undead. Dragged to London and forced into hiding, tucked somewhere, away from everyone she knew. She was raised with such precision only someone as calculated as Nan Flanagan would. She was trained how to lurk in the shadows. Her existence was hidden even from the Authority, the same organization her maker was sworn to protect and serve. She learned to speak other languages. If she were to survive as a vampire she had to adapt. She had been taught how to feed from a donor. That was her prize for her obedience. But most of the time her sustenance was Tru Blood - the catalyst of her demise. She abhorred the synthetic substance, the taste, the texture and everything it stood for. It was vile. No wonder vampires despised it. She picked up the bottle of Tru Blood from her bedside table and hurled it against the wall of her light-tight room. Never again, she promised herself.
Blood pooled at the rims of her eyes. She refused to blink to release them. Once she had asked Nan why she made her.
I want to have at least one person to weep for me when I meet my true death, had been Nan's response.
She blinked hard then brushed the blood off her cheeks. She had done her duty. No need to get carried away.
She wondered who did it, though – put a stake in that cold bitch's heart. Ended the vampire who created her, gave her the life she never asked for.
The pull of the sun weighed her down. She willed her fangs to ascend as her head hit the pillow before she closed her eyes. Twenty-nine years of solitude would have driven anyone to madness. But not her. She had a powerful motivator.
Revenge.
Now that her maker was gone, she was free. Free to seek vengeance against the people who had wronged her.
And she knew just where to start.
E/S
Seven months ago…
Louisiana was hell on earth, which made her wonder why he had chosen this place.
It was Mardi Gras. Debauchery was in the air. She stood in the balcony of an old French quarter condo she had rented for the week, leaning against wrought iron railings, watching the swarm of oblivious and inebriated town folks in the street.
"Do we really have to meet here?" came the woman's shrilly, condescending voice.
She kept her eyes glued to the crowd, ignoring the woman's query.
She heard a sharp gasp. "Oh dear Lord! Is that…"
Her lips curled to the side.
"Yes, Sarah. That is indeed your former husband."
"Is that why brought me here? To show me what a disgusting creature he became?"
She didn't say a word. She didn't go to New Orleans to spite Sarah Newlin. She came to Nola for him. Her gaze followed the tall vampire in the middle of the crowd, swaying and grinning in his intoxicated state. If she had a heart, it would probably still beat for him. He was with the vampires, who she recognized as members of Nan's precious Authority. They were every bit as depraved as she imagined them to be. They didn't even try to hide what they were as they parade with their fangs hanging for everyone to see. She smiled. Their transgressions would only expedite her plan. She watched them vanish from sight as they slipped into a bar down the street.
She moved away from the railing and sat in the wrought iron porch chair. "Take a seat, Sarah." Her hand covered with black leather gloves pointed at the chair across her.
Sarah Newlin, the mentally-unstable, uptight blonde, jutted her chin and smoothed her perfectly coifed hair before taking her post.
"I heard you and Governor Burell are setting up a camp specifically for vampires?"
Sarah straightened her back, instantly defensive. "How did you know about that?"
"It is not important." Nan had an intricate network of people working for her. A network she had recently gained access to the moment Nan Flanagan turned into goo. She picked up the silver attaché case leaning at the foot of her chair and placed it on the round glass table between them. "What, if I may ask, do you intend to do with the vampires you capture?"
Sarah laughed. Her laughter was as shrill as her voice. "Why should I tell you? You're one of them."
"I am one of them." Her fangs clicked in place to stress her point. "I can snap your neck and drain you before you can even blink. The very reason I'm keeping you alive is because I still find you useful. Do not make me change my mind." Twenty-nine years in solitary had made her ruthless.
Sarah's neck moved as she swallowed. She could detect her carotid artery under her thin skin. She felt parched all of a sudden, her fangs tingling at the idea. She managed to tamp down her thirst as her fangs shot up.
"We call it Vamp Camp. It is designed to contain them. We have cages, rooms lined with silver walls, UV lighting, the whole nine yards."
"Contain?" she asked. "That is it?"
Sarah puffed her chest, again on the defense. "We also have a 'sun room'. That's where the wayward vampers go. We'll detain them until daylight and then open the roof to, well, torch them."
Sarah kept emphasizing the word them, as though she wasn't one of them.
"No." She shook her head.
"Sorry?"
There were two distinct clicks as she pushed the buttons on the side of the silver attaché case before sliding it in front of Sarah. Inside the case were a dozen vials of deep red liquid lined up in black velvet cushion.
"You'll need these."
Sarah grabbed a vial and held it up to her head. "What is this?"
"Give that to Dr. Overlark." Sarah's eyebrow shot up at the mention of the good doctor's name. "We've met in London last year. He was in the process of developing a strain of Hepatitis D virus that could be lethal to vampires. Last we spoke he told me he had yet to modify the Hep-D strain."
"So this is a Hep-D virus?"
She shook her head again.
"It's better. It's a Hep-V virus. Any vampire infected with that potent virus will instantly weaken and eventually expire. It is highly contagious and could be contracted through consumption and copulation. In the right hands that weapon can wipe out the entire vampire race."
Sarah's eyes flicked toward her.
She snorted. "Don't get any ideas, Sarah. I've been stabbed in the back once, quite literally in fact. I will never let it happen again. Besides, do you really think I'll hand you something I don't have a cure for?"
"There's an antidote?"
"Oui," she replied, her natural accent slipping out. She caught herself at once. "Limited of course. And the man who invented it was gone along with the formula that took him a year to perfect."
She had thought this through. Yes, she had no doubt that the vampires, or the humans at their behest, might be able to come up with the formula for the cure. But by the time they could create the antidote, it would be too late.
"Cheese and rice," Sarah gasped, putting the vial back in its place. "Why are you givin' this to me?"
"Because I want something in return." She turned her gaze back to the bar downstairs where the vampires had disappeared into. "Nora Gainesborough."
Sarah knotted her perfectly lined brows. "I don't know her."
"She's in that bar along with your husband. When everything is ready, you will find her again for me. She has recently reunited with her brother. Track him and you'll get her."
"Who's her brother?"
She paused, taking a breath she didn't need. Somehow saying his name out loud was harder than she imagined.
"Eric Northman."
Sarah's eyes widened. "I know him! He infiltrated our fellowship a few years ago to rescue a vampire we caught in Dallas."
She knew everything about Dallas. About Godric. She had done her research. Nan Flanagan might have forbidden her to make contact with him or Pamela but the Maker's command could only do so much. With the help of her few trusted allies, she managed to get information about him. Information that might prove useful in the future. This was her future.
"Then you wouldn't have a problem locating him."
"What do you want us to do with Nora Gainesborough?"
She smiled, and to her satisfaction, Sarah shivered at the sight of it. "I want Dr. Overlark to test that virus on her. I want her to be patient zero."
Sarah glanced at the vials before she nodded her assent. "And what about Eric Northman? Do you want him infected too?"
"In due time," she answered slowly. "I want him alive to see his sister die. I'm saving him for last. Right after I stake his beloved progeny. The woman he chose over me."
"What do you mean?"
"Now is not the time for gossip, Sarah. There's much to be done," she said dismissively.
An old woman stepped in the veranda, knocking at the doorjamb to announce her presence. "Mademoiselle, votre ami est ici (Miss, your friend is here)," the woman said in her rusty Cajun French.
By friend she meant her donor for the night.
"Merci, Madame Lestraud. Envoyez-lui dans. (Thank you, Mrs. Lestraud. Send him in)." She rose from her seat. "We are done, oui? You can stay in the next room for the night. It's dangerous to go out tonight with all of them lurking around."
Sarah closed the case and stood. "Thank you, Sylvie." She picked up the case and headed to the sliding door leading to Sylvie's bedroom. "You know if you really want to hurt Eric Northman, I think there's one more person you should consider."
Sylvie tilted her head toward Sarah. "There's no one else. Pamela and Nora are the only ones he loved enough to die for."
It was Sarah's turn to show that chilling smile. "Then you haven't heard about Sookie Stackhouse."
A/N: I don't own Eric.
Well darn, I did it again. Starting a new fic without updating my WIPs. I just can't get over the fact that there's a Sylvie backstory we haven't heard about for six effing seasons, who is apparently Eric's lost lover. This won't be a long story, I promise. Just have to scratch that itch.
Let me know what you think. Thank you!