Mercy Me

Chapter 1:

When you've lost everyone you love; felt life slip out of the body of your child, what stops you from taking life?

Emery leaned her head on her hand; driving with one hand. The radio sang to her, filling the tiny car. She blinked her tired eyes; shaking sleep from her exhausted body. The blinding flash of streetlights made her wince. She had been driving for three days straight; stopping only for fuel and washroom breaks. Otherwise she kept driving. She had to; it was the only way to keep from going mad.

Colored lights flared over the black road; people were gathered. In the distance there was the chatter of police radios, the muttering of curious neighbors. She sat on the stoop of her house; covered in blood, unable to cry. Her gaze frozen on her hands as the blood of her child dried on her flesh.

Police officers moved back and forth beside her. None of them spoke to her. Someone had already tried, it had been futile. She had no words to use.

"Bring the bodies out now." A man ordered gruffly, "It's time we cleared the scene."

Emery felt someone staring at her and looked up. A fat man, wearing a badge and a black coat, stared down at her. His eyes were empty; cop-eyes, she'd read once. He crouched down and she followed the motion.

"Ms. Ross, you have to move. We are clearing the house."

"But it's my house," She muttered stupidly. "My baby is in there."

He nodded, "I know, but you still have to move." He gently pulled her to feet; guiding her across the lawn.

Dimly, Emery saw her neighbors. They stared at her, whispered about her. She knew what they thought, everyone thought it. Had she killed her son? Had she killed his friends?

She stared at her house as the first stretcher came out. A black body bag was strapped down. The lights flared brightly as they washed over the plastic. She didn't blink against the light. Just stared at it. Another stretcher, a third, a fourth…so many bodies.

Emery found herself on her knees, kneeling in the grass. She didn't remember falling. The policeman stood beside her. Someone called him away.

"Let me through, that's my son!" A man screamed, "My son is there!"

Emery looked up, recognizing the voice. She watched her ex-boyfriend, now her sister's husband, push his way through the tape. His eyes were wild, his clothes disheveled. He had been woken by the call.

"Mr. Gagen, you need to stay back," The policeman told him firmly, "You need to give us room to work."

"My son is that house!" He shouted. The man looked around; his hand to his mouth. His gaze landed on her, "Emery!" He ran to her, the cop not fast enough to stop him.

She wasn't able to move. Her head lifted, just enough to stare up at him. He was still beautiful; still gorgeous. Just like her baby had been.

"Emery, what did you do?" He accused. His hands grabbed her, shaking her as he hauled her off her knees. He hit at her, slapping her face. "What did you do?"

Emery felt nothing of the pain; she was too numb. Policeman hauled him backward; she fell to the grass again.

"Get him the hell off my crime scene!" The cop shouted; he crossed to her. Crouching down again, "Ms. Ross?"

She stared at the grass, at her bloody hands.

"We should take you to the hospital." He said, waving over a paramedic crew.

"No," She whispered, "It's not my blood." She dug her fingers into the grass, "It's not mine."

He stared at her a moment, "Then who's is it?"

She knew better then to answer him. Her mind protected her by shutting off. She didn't remember anything from that point on. "I don't know."

Lights blinded her again, Emery shook herself. Forcing her focus back to the road; back to the miles she'd driven. Would it ever be far enough? No, she knew that. It didn't matter how far she drove, how long she ran, it would never be enough. Glancing at her gas tank indicator she decided to fuel up. Keeping her attention on signs, she watched for a gas station.

Pulling in, she parked next to the pump. Getting out, she had to coax her door shut. The rusted metal squealed in protest. She got the door shut and proceeded to fill her car. As she put the handle back in its cradle, she realized her wallet was in the car. She stood there; under the harsh fluorescent lights and sighed. It would be a fight to open the door again. It took several hard tugs and a kick before her door opened. She reached across her seat; pausing as the gun handle dug into her midsection. Picking up her wallet she straightened slowly. The gun settled back into her waist band; she brushed her fingers over it. The cold metal was comforting.

Turning, she headed into the station.

"Morning," The clerk greeted, "Getting ahead start on traffic?"

"No," She watched as he rang up her total.

"Forty two dollars even, lucky you." He smiled at her.

Emery blinked, she didn't have that much. She touched the cold metal again; it wouldn't cost her anything to do it. No thought clicked in her head, she simply drew the gun.

"Not so lucky for you," She muttered and fired.

The loud explosion ricocheted around her skull. The stunned man jerked as his body absorbed the impact. He fell and blood slid across the tile. She aimed at the camera that blinked at her; firing a second shot. The camera exploded.

Emery turned and left the station; got in her car and drove away. She was several miles away before she felt her hands shaking. Her skull still ringing with the noise; she turned up the radio. Orange light washed over her hand, her skin was red, covered in blood. She jerked her hand back, wiping it on her thigh. She stared at her hand. There was no blood; there never had been.

She sighed and rubbed her face with her free hand. If only she could stop running; if only she could stop being afraid. But not yet; not yet. She passed a road sign: Bon Temps 15 Miles. Emery sighed; soon, she would be there soon. Then she could stop. She could stop everything.

**

Sam Merlotte wiped down his bar; it was so clean it shone. He nodded in approval; tossing the bar towel over his shoulder.

"Order up!" Terry Bellfleur shouted from the kitchen. He smiled at Arlene as she collected the plates, she giggled, heading back to the main dining area.

Sam was glad that Terry and Arlene were together. It wasn't the biggest secret in town; even though they thought no one knew. He was just happy for them. After the last couple of years, they both deserved a person to love. Sam wished he could find that too. As of yet, it had escaped him.

He sighed and focused on work instead of his personal life. The doors to his bar opened, he glanced over. Sookie and Tara were chatting as they walked in. He loved them both and neither of them had returned it. Tara had her issued and Sookie had Bill. He shook his head and turned his back on them. It was easier this way.

"Hey Sam," Sookie greeted, "Good day so far?"

"Busy," He forced a smile. Casting a look around he saw Andy and Sheriff Dearborn at their usual table. Hoyt and Jason were at their table; a few of the other regulars were all here. It was the usual rush hour for lunch.

Sookie stopped at her brother's table and hugged him with one arm. She nodded to Hoyt and hurried into the back.

Tara stepped behind the bar; Sam stepped out, letting her take over. He went to his office, leaving the door open, he settled into paperwork.

Emery parked her car and climbed out; she was starving. Making sure she had her wallet and gun; she smoothed her hair. She tugged her shirt; making sure the gun was covered. She rubbed her eyes and pinched her cheeks. Her tired body begged for sleep but she refused to listen. Instead she started across the gravel lot. The rocks crunched under her sneakers. She listened to the sound and it helped her feel better. She felt calmer and breathed a little easier.

She glanced at the sign, Merlotte's, and walked in. There was music playing from a system somewhere. The smell of burgers and fries, the rich scent of beer, it welcomed her. The place was warm because of the sunshine streaming through the windows. But it had a nice feel to it. Some bars felt seedy; dark. This one didn't, she liked it. She stood near the doors, not sure what to do with herself.

A blonde waitress hustled by, pausing a moment, her tray full. "Seat your self." She passed by.

Emery did as she asked, finding a seat at a table near the middle of the room. She settled in her chair. The feeling of paper under her fingers made her look down. There was a small green square in front of her. The paper was thick but not heavy. She ran her hands over it again. It felt warm and smooth; it helped her shoulders relax. There were a fork and knife rolled together in a paper napkin. A green paper band held it all together. She finally saw the menu and picked it up. The plastic was cool under her hands. She stared at the words, not really seeing them.

"Sorry about that," The blonde muttered, she had an accent. It was something Southern, of that Emery was positive. She stood to Emery's left. She smiled, "You must be from out of town?"

"Why?" Emery asked.

"I know all the faces around town," The blonde kept her smile in place. Emery caught the flicker in her brown eyes. The flash of fear as she smiled at Emery, "What can I get for you?"

"Um," Emery stared at the menu, "Sweet tea, what is that?"

The blonde frowned slightly, "It's just that, sweet…tea."

"Oh, I guess I'll have that."

"Anything else? We have the best burgers in Louisiana."

So that's where she was, Emery realized. That explained the accent, the warm sunshine. How many miles was she from home? She ignored the thought. "Whatever you think is good."

The blonde wrote something down and hustled off. She returned a moment later with a plastic cup of liquid. Emery picked up the cup and sipped at it.

"Iced tea," She muttered, so this was their version of iced tea. It wasn't quite as sugary as the stuff she knew, but it was nice. She could really taste the tea part. "Brewed from real tea?"

"Yes," The blonde gazed at her for a moment; Emery felt something tingle in her head. The blonde smiled suddenly and turned away. A sense of warning descended on Emery; something was wrong all of a sudden.

It didn't take long for her to realize she was right. The blonde carried her tray, laden with food to another table. A man in a policeman's uniform smiled at her. The blonde set their food down and Emery didn't miss the extra napkin she slid along the table.

Emery sighed, her shoulders hunching. Looks like this wasn't the place to stop after all.

"You," The man in the uniform stood up, his gun sliding from his holder. He held it at his thigh. "At the table, slowly stand up."

Emery hunched up further. "What's the problem officer?"

"Stand up, slowly, keep your hands where I can see them."

A gun clicked and it wasn't hers. She looked over, he was aiming at her. The aim was low, not a kill shot. She sighed. Under the table she drew her own gun. Some part of her knew this was a bad idea; but she wasn't going to just give up.

"Now!" He shouted at her.

Emery stood up; people screamed around her. "Easy, officer."

"Bud, she's got a gun!" A large man warned.

"Yes," She kept her tone calm, even.

The man flicked his gaze at where she was aiming. Worry darkened his gaze.

"That's right," Emery kept her tone cool, "You shoot me, my gun goes off and this whole place is in flames."

Emery knew her gun was aimed at the pipe that ran along the floor boards. Normally no one would notice it. But she had. She knew too that it was full of natural gas; and it didn't like bullets.

"Take it easy, lady." The man, Bud, told her. "Just put the gun down."

"You put your gun down," She said.

"No," He tightened his grip, "I am the law around here."

She studied his brown shirt, gold badge and dark brown pants. He was the law, but she didn't care.

"I have nothing to loose, law man. I have no reason to leave here alive." She kept her tone even, her words honest. "But these people probably didn't plan on dying today. Do you want them too?"

He licked his lips quickly. "What's your name?"

"Emery Ross," She had no reason to lie about that either.

"Well, Emery, I'm Sheriff Dearborn, I don't want to kill you."

"Perhaps I want you to," She told him.

He blinked, he hadn't been expecting that. "What?"

"Perhaps I walked in here, looking for someone to do just that."

He shook his head, rejecting the idea. "Put the gun down, darlin'."

She tipped her head to the side at the odd phrase. Darlin', she really was in the south.

Sound reached her and she turned, "Jason! Don't!"

A body slammed into her; a gun went off, someone screamed. Emery hit the floor and saw stars. She stared at the hardwood floor; a man breathed on her neck. He pressed himself against her; not sexually, but in an effort to keep her still.

"You picked the wrong town, bitch." His southern accent made the curse seem romantic.

Emery almost smiled; someone pulled the man off and she was kicked over. She didn't make a sound; her side burned in pain. A gun was pointed at her face; she stared down the barrel, willing the bullet to kill her. It never came.

"Someone cuff this bitch!" The man yelled, he was being held back by a larger man.

Emery turned her head and stared at the blonde waitress. "Thank you," She said, the blonde stared at her wide, frightened eyes.

"What?"

"Thank you," Emery was hauled off the floor, shoved against a table and pinned face-down.

The blonde approached her as cuffs were snapped onto her wrists. Emery lifted her head, looking at the woman.

"Why did you come here?" The woman asked.

"I had to run," Emery felt pain as the cuffs snapped too tight, digging into her flesh. "I had to find him."

"Find who?" The woman asked; her expression was worried and scared.

"I only know his name," She was yanked off the table. The large man began dragging her to the door.

"Andy, wait!" The waitress chased after them, the large man didn't' stop. "How do you know Eric?

"I don't," Emery told her, "I've never met him."

The woman frowned, hard. "Why do you need to find him?"

"He knows who murdered my son."

Emery was dragged out the door and thrown into a car. The leather was hot to the touch, burning her skin. She gagged on the stuffy, hot air. The humidity was enough to drown her with each breath. The door slammed and she struggled to sit up. Her wrists were hurting; she was suffocating. Closing her eyes she hoped for death. Waited for her body to choke on the wet air; instead the car pulled away. She opened her eyes, watching the scenery go by.

"Bellefleur to base," The large man grumped.

"Hey Andy, its Rosie. Are ya done lunch already?"

"No, get the booking forms ready."

"Sure, any one I know?" The woman asked over the radio.

"No, but run her name. Last is Ross, first is Emery. No middle."

"Okay, hun."

The man put the hand-held piece back.

Emery managed to speak, "Sorry about your lunch."

"Shut up," He told her.

"Is it Sheriff Bellefleur?"

"I said shut it!" He ordered.

Emery didn't talk again. Not when she was yanked from the cop car; or shoved down the hall. She didn't say a word as they interrogated her. They tried all different techniques on her; trying to get information. She had nothing to say. Finally, Andy Bellefluer, had had enough. He jerked her to her feet; shoving her down another hall. A door opened and she was herded into a room with a holding cell. Emery studied the fall of sunshine on the concrete floor. The room was a nice off-white color; welcoming almost.

She was pushed against the bars of the only holding cell in the room. "Don't move."

Andy unsnapped the cuffs; "Turn,"

She did as ordered, he re-cuffed her hands in front. Emery looked down and expected she had bruises. The metal bit into her wrists again. She gazed at the cop in front of her.

"You're unhappy, Andy." She muttered, "I am sorry."

He glared at her, "So now you talk?" He yanked open the cell door, shoving her inside. He slammed it shut; the metal clanged loudly. "Hope you got a good lawyer."

"No," She stood watching him through the bars, "I have no one."

"I guess you'll just rot here then." He had meant that to be scary.

"I hope so," Emery said quietly, "It would be nice."

He turned away and left her in the room. Emery sighed, the sound echoed in the quiet area. She sat on the bed, hunching up to avoid hitting her head. Her gaze watched the sun as it washed the room in liquid gold light. It had been a very long time since she'd seen such beauty. She smiled softly, marveling at nature. The pressure in her chest lifted just slightly. Not all things in this world were bad; she thought, just most of them.

It was moments like these; with sunlight painting the room; that she understood. She could finally comprehend why people believed in God. Why they praised Him. Incredible beauty like this had to come from something divine. Surely, man was not capable of such things. But following that thought was a dark one. How could a being, that created such beauty, create such darkness? It was in the name of God that her son was cut down. It was by the hand of his people that her baby was murdered. And she didn't understand how such a God could let that happen.

Emery closed her eyes against the light. She lay back on the thin mattress; drawing her knees up. Tears dampened the material where they fell. Wasn't her son beautiful? Wasn't he worthy of such sights? Clearly not, for he was dead. Someone had killed him; cut him down with bullets and wood. Cowards, she had decided, that's who they were. Just cowards. Still, it didn't sooth her grief, calm her anger. Her son was still dead; still buried, and they weren't. It wasn't right.

Sleep finally claimed her; sucking her under against her will, and she fell, into nightmares.

**

"Get up!" A voice ordered.

Emery bolted away, slamming her head into metal. She reached a head to heard, only to feel cuffs on her wrists. Opening her eyes she blinked slowly. It all came crashing back; she felt sick.

"You, get up, you got a visitor!"

Emery tried to move, but her body hurt. Her vision spun. How hard had she hit her head? Finally, she managed to sit upright. Her wrists were hurting; she could see dark bruises on her skin. Her hands were cold from lack of circulation. That's when she realized it was dark. The sun was gone; it was nighttime.

She looked across the cell, blinking again. Her vision steadied and she could focus. Andy, the cop from earlier stood beside a large blonde man.

"You have five minutes," Andy grumped; he left, locking the door behind him.

Emery stared at the blonde man; he was a vampire, she knew that much. He was gorgeous, she knew that too. He was tall; evenly built with huge shoulders. The man was devastating. He stood with an arrogant stance; his face blank, his eyes guarded. He had lovely blue eyes. She knew if he ever smiled; it would be beautiful.

"Talk fast, breather." He ordered.

Emery smiled; his accent wasn't Southern. "I am looking for a man named, Eric. Do you know him?"

"No," The man told her.

It was a lie, she knew it. "Lying to me doesn't help."

His eyes narrowed just slightly, "Why do you want to see him?"

"It was the only name my son gave me before he died, two weeks ago." Emery's chest tightened with the memories.

"What's your son's name?" The man asked.

"His name was Conrad; Conrad Gagen."

"He's no body,"

Emery felt a spark of anger at that, "He was my son!"

"He's dead," The man countered. He turned away from her, heading to the door.

"Eric!" She rushed to her feet, reaching through the bars. The cuffs stopped her short of reaching him. "Please."

He stopped in his tracks, "Why should I talk to you?"

"My son knew you, said you could help me."

Eric turned to face her, his face hard. "You're still boring me."

"The Fellowship killed him." Emery spoke quickly, "He was my baby, and they murdered him."

He blinked once, "He was a vampire?"

"Yes, he was. He was new, just a few weeks old."

Eric approached the cell, stopping just out of her reach. "Why did he give you my name?"

"He said that you had would listen. He said that you aren't like the other vampires."

Eric sneered at her, turning his back on her again. "We're done."

"Fine, don't help me. All I ask I that you kill me."

He stopped again, glancing over his large shoulder. "What?"

"My life has no meaning without him. He was everything to me. That's why, when the vampire took him, I didn't stop it. My son was dying anyway; it was the only way to keep him. He was still stolen from me. I don't want this life if he's not in it. He's all I had."

Eric looked away; he reached the door. He banged on it with a fist. "They are going to hold you here."

"Eric," Emery closed her eyes, misery engulfing her being "I am asking you to end my life; for my own sake."

The door opened and he walked out. She sank to her knees; crying; her sobs were the only sound.