DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN TRUE BLOOD!
Divine Intervention
Chapter 2
A gentle knocking on Anamaria's bedroom door woke her the next morning. The door opened with a soft squeak, footsteps crossed the room and the curtains were opened, filling the room with bright morning sunshine. As soon as the light hit Anamaria's face, she groaned loudly and rolled over in bed, desperately wanting to go back to sleep after her late night out at Fangtasia.
"Come on, Anamaria, up you get. Daylight's burning! Up, wash and dress; breakfast'll be ready in five minutes." A no-nonsense voice ordered from above her as her comforter was pulled off her. "Why on Earth did you sleep in your clothes? Sometimes I think I'll never understand you, Anamaria Santiago."
Resigned to her fate, Anamaria rolled onto her back and heaved herself into a sitting position. Rubbing her eyes, she opened them and blinked against the bright sunshine coming through her windows. She looked to the alarm clock on her bedside table; 8am. She'd gotten in at around two in the morning, so she hadn't had too bad of a night's sleep.
Climbing out of bed and realising that she had indeed slept in her clothes – which explained why her back was so stiff, from sleeping in the tight bodice she'd worn last night in an effort to appear 'Goth' – Anamaria headed to the bathroom down the hall to wash up. After she felt a little bit more human and was dressed in clean clothes, she headed downstairs.
Hearing the cooking sounds coming from the kitchen was always a comfort to Anamaria, the nice sounds being so different to her childhood home. Heading into the kitchen, Anamaria took a moment to watch Adele, as she did every morning. She owed her life to that woman. Not many other women would have been as kind as Adele Stackhouse had been to her – a troubled child in foster care, and then when her 'ability' had come out, most other people would have sent her back to the State, like a broken toy. But not Adele. Adele had taken her in, raised her as her own grandchild, and had even helped her control her telepathy, all the while never judging her on her past. Anamaria knew she would never find another soul on this Earth as genuinely kind as Adele Stackhouse.
"Good morning." Anamaria greeted, heading to the fridge to take out the orange juice for the both of them to drink.
"Good morning to you too, young lady. Should I ask how much you drank last night?" Adele gave her a stern look as she stirred the scrambled eggs in the pan on the cooker.
"I only had one drink, abuelita."
"Then why were you sleeping in your clothes, like a sloth?"
Anamaria smiled in spite of herself as she poured them both a glass of juice. "It was a weird night; I was drained when I got home."
"Why, what happened?"
Anamaria explained the night's events as the two women ate breakfast together, smiling at Adele's reactions to various things she talked about – Fangtasia, its clientele, its staff, its owner…Adele was less than pleased to hear that Anamaria had been alone with a vampire after only just meeting him…
"This Eric man sounds…"
"Dangerous?" Anamaria suggested sarcastically with a sip of her juice.
"Intriguing. You say he flew you home?"
"He did indeed."
"Did he have wings?" Anamaria laughed, but Adele sounded genuinely curious.
The Latina shrugged, "I didn't see any."
"Maybe he's like Peter Pan – he could fly but he didn't have wings."
A brief image of Eric Northman in a Peter Pan costume flashed through her mind, before she shook her head to clear the disturbing thought. "I don't know how it works. Maybe I'll ask him at some point. But I'm not sure I'll even see him again…"
Adele regarded her closely, her fingertip running around the edge of her glass. "You sound disappointed about that."
Anamaria's head shot up. She couldn't deny that the thought of never seeing Eric Northman again did upset her a little. But why should it? She had only met him the once, and only for a few minutes, and in that time he had only seemed interested in her body, not her mind or her soul. Anamaria couldn't be with a man who only wanted her for sex; she'd been down that road before…
Anamaria changed the subject. "What have you got planned for the day?"
!"!
The afternoon passed quickly. With Adele out of the house, Anamaria spent her time in her room, pushing her body through its usual hard workout routine of yoga and sit-ups followed by an almost punishing run on her treadmill. Adele always thought the treadmill made a lot of noise when it was being used, so Anamaria only used it when her pseudo-grandmother wasn't around – her telepathy made it very hard to enjoy a run out in the open. By the time she was done with her workout, had showered and dressed for work, and then done some reading for one of her college classes, it was almost time for her to leave for work. Through her busy afternoon, she didn't even notice that the sun had set.
As Anamaria was finishing putting on her make-up for work, there was a knock on her bedroom door. Adele stepped into the room and hurried over to her vanity table.
"Anamaria, I just had a thought. Mr Compton said that he fought during the Civil War, did he not?"
"Uh, yeah I think so." She said a little awkwardly as she finished putting on her lipstick.
"Do you suppose you could ask him whether he would be willing to give a talk to the Descendants of the Glorious Dead?" Adele organised a group of people who had relatives who had fought in the Civil War.
"Why do I have to ask him?"
"Well," Adele started slowly, "Mr Compton does seem to…"
"Adele, how many times? I am not interested in Bill Compton." Anamaria stated firmly.
The older woman seemed confused. "But I thought he seemed quite keen?"
"Yeah, he's keen – I'm not." She said decisively as she lightly dusted her cheekbones with blusher. Given her natural tan, she didn't need much of the product.
"May I ask why?" Adele asked gently. "He seems gentlemanly enough."
"It's not that." Anamaria dabbed her neck with perfume. "It's…There's just something about him."
"What do you mean? Has he been ungallant?" Adele asked, outraged at the possibility; she was very protective of Anamaria about things like that.
"No. It's just that…Sometimes I feel like…" Anamaria struggled with how to phrase her feelings, "He's not who he says he is. I just don't trust him, and I don't know why."
A knock on the front door downstairs interrupted the women's conversation. Adele gave Anamaria a sympathetic look, patting her hand kindly before leaving the room and heading downstairs. Anamaria stood in front of her mirror as she checked her work uniform – her long-sleeved t-shirt and black jeans were clean, ironed and presentable, so she grabbed her bag and started heading downstairs.
As she came onto the upstairs landing, she heard Adele inviting someone inside, offering them a seat in the living room. She descended the stairs, catching Adele's attention.
"Anamaria, you have two gentleman callers." Adele couldn't sound happier if she tried.
But the Latina frowned in confusion. No doubt, one of the men was Bill Compton, but who could the other one be? "Who is it?"
"It's nice to see you again, Miss Santiago." Eric fucking Northman.
!"!
Anamaria stared at the occupants of the living room. Bill Compton and bold-as-brass Eric Northman stood in the middle of the room, the former looking furious at the latter who merely smirked at Anamaria.
Not wanting to appear rude in front of Adele – the woman would have her hide if she were rude to guests – she plastered a smile on her face and stepped into the living room. "Good evening Bill. Mr Northman, this is a surprise."
"A happy one, I hope?" He asked through his smirk. He was teasing her, no doubt knowing she didn't want to be rude to him.
She just smiled. "What can I do for you?"
"I came to return your car." From his back pocket, he withdrew a set of car keys. When Anamaria looked closer, she could see that they were indeed hers. A look out the window confirmed that her little yellow Honda was parked in front of the house.
Genuine surprise and gratitude filled Anamaria as she took in Northman's kind gesture. "Thank you very much, that was kind of you." She took her keys from him.
"I also came to ask a favour."
"More like an order." Bill grumbled unhappily.
"That would depend on how Miss Santiago chooses to look at it." Northman merely grinned at Bill. The anger on Bill's face peeked Anamaria's interest. Turning back to the young woman, he spoke again. "I ask for your help to investigate some goings-on at my club."
"What kind of goings-on? And what makes you think I could help?"
He gave a quick glance to Adele, who had the courtesy to be pretending to water the plants in the hallway while she chaperoned their meeting. "It would be best if we went to Fangtasia to discuss this in greater detail."
"I can't tonight; I'm working." She gestured to her uniform.
"Perhaps after work?"
She shook her head. "I won't finish until at least 1am; I'll be too exhausted to be helpful."
"Next week then; Fangtasia closes on Monday nights."
"I believe Ana will also be working that night too. Won't you, Ana?" Bill asked her firmly, obviously prodding her to refuse Northman's favour.
The pushy look on his face only made her surer of her answer. "I can do next week. Monday? What time?"
"Around nine in the evening?"
"I'll be working the lunch shift, so nine's no problem. I'll drive myself there, if that's alright."
"Of course." Northman gave her a small bow of his head, giving her a wink which from hidden from Bill by his long blonde hair curtaining his face.
"Well, if that's everything, I need to head off to work." A thought struck her. "Bill, what are you doing here?"
He looked very put out that she had only just thought to ask. "I came to ask if you would like to take a walk with me. But seeing as you are heading to work…"
"Yeah, maybe another time?" She hoped she sounded non-committal. Why couldn't he just take the hint?
"Of course." He glared quickly at Northman, who seemed to be enjoying Anamaria's subtle rejection of Bill. "I believe it is time we took our leave, Eric."
"So soon? Such a pity." The tall blonde god gave Anamaria a flirtatious look, but straightened up to his full height. "But I do believe Miss Santiago will be late for work if we do not leave soon." He gestured for Anamaria to head to the front door, and followed after her, eyeing her Latina curves as he did.
In the hallway, Adele put down the empty watering can and opened the door for the unlikely trio. "Have a good shift at work, darling." She gave Anamaria a kiss on her cheek. "Nice to see you again, Mr Compton."
"Ms Stackhouse." Bill nodded his head respectfully to the elderly lady.
"And it was nice to meet you, Mr Northman."
"My good lady, I must insist you call me Eric." He gave Adele a gentlemanly smile and a friendly wink.
The elderly lady almost swooned. "Yes, Eric." She chuckled nervously as the three of them stepped out onto the porch, Anamaria watching the scene in disbelief. Why on earth was Northman being so charming towards Adele? Her evening could not get any weirder.
!"!
She was wrong; her evening got weirder, and worse. The bar was busy, as it always was, and Anamaria spent her night pouring beer and mixing the occasional cocktail. It was repetitive, but Anamaria liked it; the harder the job was, the harder she found it to keep up the 'shields' inside her mind that blocked out everyone's thoughts. She was distracted from time to time and a few stray thoughts slipped through the cracks, but tonight was a good night for her shields. Until the Rattrays showed up.
The Rattrays, Mack and Denise, were as 'white trash' as could be. They were loud, pathologically rude, cussed every five seconds, prejudiced to everyone who was not exactly like them, and drug addicts to boot. Everyone in town hated them, including Anamaria, who unfortunately bore the brunt of most of their hatred whenever they came to Merlotte's – as a girl of Mexican-Cuban decent, from foster care, with multi-coloured hair; she was apparently an easy target.
"Yo, beaner!" Mack bellowed from the other side of the room. "Another pitcher!"
'Deep breath, Ana, deep breath', she said to herself as she inhaled slowly and counted to five before exhaling. "If you want one, come over here and ask nicely." She went about her business mixing a Margarita for her friend Tara, who was on her way to the bar.
"You fucking what?" Screeched Denise. "What you fucking say to my husband!"
"You heard me." Anamaria poured the cocktail into a glass, then put it in the fridge to keep cool.
"I outta come over there and rip your fucking eyes out!" Denise climbed out of the booth she and her husband were sitting in, but she wobbled in her too high heels and almost fell to the ground.
"Go home, guys, now!" Sam, the owner of the bar, ordered as he stood next to Anamaria. The young bartender had had no end of trouble with the Rattrays in the past; luckily everyone else in the bar liked Anamaria and hated the Rattrays, so back-up was always close at hand. Seeing that they were clearly outnumbered, the Rattrays stumbled out of the bar, cussing, shouting and knocking into people as they went.
Anamaria's night only went downhill from there.
!"!
Anamaria finished work just as 1am was approaching, saying goodnight to Sam and heading out to her car. Just as she was about to put the key into the lock of the car door, a twig snapped behind her. As she turned her head to look around, she was blindsided to the punch that landed on her cheekbone, sending her crashing into the side of her car. Another punch landed on the bottom of her ribcage, knocking the wind out of her.
A hand grabbed her hair and started pulling viciously, dragging her through the dirt, before throwing her to the ground; kicks came to her stomach, her shoulders, her hips. Everywhere was on fire and in agony; she could hardly scream through the blows that rained down upon her.
"You fucking cunt!" A woman – Denise Rattray – shouted above her, kicking her nose and breaking it.
"Filthy little spic!" A man – Mick Rattray – cried from behind her, delivering a hard kick to the small of her back. Even through the pain, Anamaria felt something break inside her. Her back was broken.
"Where are your fucking friends now, huh?" Something hard, metal maybe, landed on her hip from behind; her hip was broken.
Another kick to the face made Anamaria black out, the world fading around her.
Let this be it. Please no more. Just let me die…Finally.
