Chapter Two Samuel Da'vid
Pam stared at the phone. Did Eric have another sibling? Damn, that traitor Nora was one fucked up piece of Were shit. She was going to go on akilling spree if there was another one like her!
Oh fuck! Did she trust the voice at the end of the phone? Of course she did. Eric had sent her the number.
That voice as back. Could this guy still be trusted? Would Eric know that he could still be trusted? Was her maker somewhere being tortured...would this person finish what Vlad had started? "Fuck Eric!" she wanted to howl out into the night. At this point, it did not matter what she thought. Eric trusted him enough to send her the number. Her maker would not turn his child and grandchild over to someone that would harm them. No matter how much money changed hands. Just get to it! "I am in Marrakesh on my way to Paris to pick up my child. Can you meet me there?" There, that information was just enough and not very forthcoming. Do a meet and greet and stake if that is what the occasion called for.
"I am presently in Israel. I will pick you up on the way out. I am out the door this minute. Tell me what you know."
In Israel? Really? Well, they were speaking Hebrew.
"Eric drank down a fairy and acquired day walking skills and when the fairy died, so did the ability to day walk. He is in the Rhone Valley."
"Eric!" she heard the man hiss. "I thought we both agreed you would stay out of the Rhone Valley! By all that is unholy my brother, must you continue to taunt Vlad?"
Clearly this being was not happy.
"I had to drag your ass out of harm's way the last time you thought to take him on. We lived in that mine for a couple of days. Oy vey, my brother. Will you never learn?"
Well, okay...this man knew her maker. Yes...never learn were key words to describing Eric. This was not the bullshit of I want bragging rights that I helped to end The Viking. Eric had briefly touched on the subject of underground living. He had laughed about the time he had spent time in theParis mines with another vampire that he had simply referred to as his brother in dirt. That they had dined on a couple of underground dwellers andfrom that experience ripened blood had taken on a whole new meaning.
"I know Eric trusts you, or he would not have mind flashed me this number. And I am desperate enough to risk myself to save him..."
"I understand," came the soft voice. "Truly I do. Godric was your maker's maker. He met the true death in Dallas. On the rooftop with Godric was a human female, Sookie Stackhouse. Eric always said she would be his undoing. My guess is that she was."
"I hate her," Pam said with righteous conviction.
"Pamela," Samuel's voice was soothing. "I may not know you personally and you do not know me, but listen carefully."
Pam stared at the phone. He was rattling off every bank account number that she and Eric owned.
"I handle your money. Eric thought it was best that you did not know. He said you liked girls but would make the switch for me because of my money and investment know how," he laughed, softly. "But I am Jewish and you are not and it would never work out."
"You are a myth," she began as she put all the pieces together. "A vampire urban legend..." her voice dropped off as she contemplated what she thought she knew. Her maker called brother the vampire that ran the world's money...oh fuck...
"Dear child, I met your maker for the first time in 1301 in the mine network that lies under Paris. Since that day, I have handled his money and he has been my brother. I can assure you, I am not a myth and I am only a legend in my own living room."
What she knew for certain was that she could not do this on her own. She could not do this with Tara. The best that she was hoping for was to find Eric and give him a peaceful true death...whatever was left of him, no matter what it cost her. "I think Eric burned when the day walking left him. He has completely blocked the bond so I know he is hurt, but I do not know how badly."
"We will just assume that he is without flesh. You mentioned your child. You need to call her and tell her that I will be calling her with instructions. My people will pick her up and bring her to us.
I will be to you in less than six hours. We can push that if we have too. But before daylight, you shall be on board the plane with me and we shall pick your child up whenever she touches down in France. I know several small out of the way airports. Customs can be such a bother at times."
There was silence on the other end. Good, he smiled to himself. "Pamela, I know you were going to storm the castle. Eric would call your valiant effort foolhardy and wasteful and he would be pissed that you ended your life and that of your child to do so. But he inspires that in those that love him. They would give their all for him."
The bloody tears rolled down her cheeks.
"You are not to worry. Make the phone call then we shall set everything in motion. When I am airborne, I shall call you and tell you every embarrassing story I know about Eric. And I have centuries of them. When I arrive, we shall be as old friends."
Tara watched with fascination as the helicopter sat down...for her. Fuck...would you just look at this! She was fitted with an earwig and she was then chatting with her maker as they streaked across the sky.
The small private jet was light tight and then she was airborne. Her maker had told her she could trust those that had come for her. She hoped so. The inside of this fast moving Lear was un-fucking believable! As in...yes, please let this be real! I finally know someone with a shit load of money! When she landed in France, her maker would be there to greet her. Along with someone by the name of Samuel Da'vid, who apparently ran theworld's monies. Huh...really?
"Fuck me!" was all she could think when a steward sat down next to her and offered her his arm. Taking a whiff, she hesitated. "You smell different, just a bit," she regarded him.
"Kosher," he smiled at her.
"Oh," she replied. "So you really never have had bacon?"
"Sadly no," he grinned.
"Damn," she grinned in return. "That first mornin' smell of bacon is one of the things I miss about being human."
It was time to get tactical. Pamela had been on line looking at the Rhone Valley while brother Samuel talked her to her about what he knew about where Eric was being kept. Sunrise was an hour in the making when there was a knock at her door. She was not surprised. Samuel had indeed chatted with her the whole time and had announced that he was on his way up the steps.
Opening the door, there stood what she thought he would look like. His green eyes were a surprise and startling with his dark completion and black, curly, neatly trimmed hair. Handsome, hell yes! And he was short. Maybe five foot nothing. That came as a surprise. It was not everyday she was taller than anyone she knew. Hell even that twat how-come-she-was-not-dead Sookie was taller than she was. Gawd, she loved pumps with high heels!
"There are Weres out and about," she said as she closed the door.
"Yes," he nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Apparently you have drawn the attention of the pack."
"I fucking hate Weres," she grinned as she brandished her knife.
Samuel laughed. "You are just like my brother. Come," he smiled at her, opening the door while she picked up her bag. "The old dark is getting ready to be history. Let us, with the new dark, make history. And for those Weres who think to walk this path with us, they shall no longer have a history."
"I like the way you think," Pamela smiled.
"Good," he nodded his head, again. "Do you want to make the first kill or shall I?"
"Rock, paper, scissors, is only fair," Pam replied as she heard the howl go up.
"On three," Samuel replied.
"Oh look," Pam smiled prettily. "Rock beats paper. Looks like I'm up."
"Well drat," Samuel replied. "I was so hoping to rescue the damsel in distress."
They both laughed.
"I want to be the one that tells Eric he is the damsel in distress," she chuckled.
"Oh," Samuel lifted an eyebrow. "That calls for another round. On three," he grinned.
"Well drat," he sighed. "I see you have your maker's luck. Rock beats scissors."
"I am havin' a long talk with him," she shook her head as she heard the pounding of feet. "This fucked up lower than Were shit comes to an end. If he wants to get his head back on straight, he needs to get his ass home and confront the Sookie beast that did this to him. And she is," Pam hissed, "a self-righteous, lower than Were shit Sookie beast. I cannot stress that enough."
Samuel was laughing. "A woman. With my brother it is always about a woman. Every couple hundred years or so he falls in love."
"What?" Pam's face fell as she gabbed the Were by the scruff and giving him a good shake, broke his neck. "You sure we are talking about my maker, Eric Northman?"
Laughter erupted from Samuel as he reached up and gutted the next Were with his claws. "Yes," he nodded. "My brother, he is a romantic."
"What?" Pam stopped walking. "Eric, really? I mean, I've seen him a little goofy and off his game around Sookie, but...I would not dub him a romantic."
Samuel's grin just got bigger. "And his children are girls. Not a boy in the family, anywhere."
Pam threw her knife and hit a Were between the eyes. Walking over she retrieved it. "No, I mean, well yes, but...but..."
"No buts my dear," Samuel winked at her. "Girls. He loves baby girls. And you turned a girl. He is most delighted."
"I feel a headache comin' on," she sighed as she stood still and let the next Were come to her. "A romantic. That explains a lot of his fucked up shit."
When Tara woke, her maker and a small vampire were having dinner.
"'Bout time," Pamela disengaged and licked the small bit of blood off her bottom lip. "I was beginning to wonder if we were going to party without you.
Samuel, this is my child Tara. Tara, this is Eric's brother Samuel."
"How do," she smiled at him. "Nice way to travel. My meal on board was kosher. You Jewish?"
"Yes," he smiled at her.
"Okay then, I don't know that I have ever met a Jewish person, let alone one that is a vampire. Was Godric your maker as well?"
"No," he nodded. "Eric and I are spiritual brothers. A more lasting bond than that of blood."
"I get that," Tara said with a smile. "I have that kind of bond with Sookie."
"I see," Samuel replied and did not laugh out loud. This had to be some story. Tara loves this Sookie, Pamela hates her and Eric...his boy Eric was probably someplace in his romantic cycle where he had fallen in love with another human female. Oh well...the heart wanted what the heart wanted and for Eric, that rolled around every couple hundred years. Eric would say fuck it! Hand over his heart and kill anyone that looked at his lover twice.
"Pamela, once we are on ground, make contact with Eric. Find out what he knows about his location. We get his stats and then we can act accordingly."
Despite the fact that he had no ears, Eric could hear the door open. There was no mistaking the odor that was walking toward him. For some reason, Vlad thought he did not need to bathe.
There was the scrapping sound of a chair being pulled up and then he could smell minty fresh breath in his face.
"Oh Eric," Vlad sighed. "My friend, at one time you were someone all the females wanted to know. Sadly, that part of you is now missing and I believe you are going to be that guy all the males want to date. Of course, you are going to need some skin. Even I am a little repulsed at the way you look. And for what I've done to my enemies," he chuckled, "that is saying something."
"Vlad," Eric rasped out. "What? Me not on your dance card? I cannot be that repulsive."
"Sadly my friend, you are. I think the basement is just the best place for you. I have some lovelies upstairs that would faint from horror at seeing you."
What must be laughter came from Eric's mouth. "And yet they abide your body stench. I suspect glamour."
"It has been a long time," Vlad said settling back into his chair. "since you and I have sat face to face.
And then you called me to Switzerland to watch you day walk. Which even I am the first to admit I watched you do. And the nasty-assed sex you had out there in the snow and I was not able to join you. Just watch from a heavily shuttered window while I wiped away the bleeds."
"Good times," Eric chuckled.
"How did you do it?" he asked. "Day walk?"
"There was a very old fairy/vampire hybrid. Don't," Eric held up one hand. "Just believe. I latched on, just about drained him and lo and behold, day walking. I can only surmise that something happened to him, as in the true death department. Hence the flame."
"So if I was to find myself a fairy, turn them and..."
"And wait five thousand years, for vamp and fae to percolate, that is how old Warlow was, then yes, chances are very good you could day walk."
"But I don't want to wait five thousand years," he sighed.
"Well fuck, Vlad, I did not want to go up in flame, either," Eric responded. "I was working on my tan and poof...flame on!"
"Elegant bullshit, Eric. I do not exactly believe what I am hearing. I have been trying to figure this all out. Day walker. A fucking day walker! He could be anywhere in the world. Personally, I would love to see Rome again by daylight. But no, I find you skulking around in the Alps. Yes, hurrah for naked lovelies that come by on their skis. But that is so out of character for you, Mr. Larger Than Life or Undeath."
"I missed the snow," he replied, placing a hand over his heart area.
"I found your book, Eric, along with you, out in the snow. Den Allvarsamma Leken, The Serious Game. A famous Swedish tragic love story. I suspect that somewhere in your villa is an open page to Romeo and Juliet.
Sounds like woman troubles to me which puts this in a completely different light, so to speak.
I thought I would torture you about the day walking. And maybe torture you just because you are The Viking. But now," he laughed, "a breather hasyour balls, literally," he chuckled. "Eric, do you never learn?"
"Apparently not," he grinned.
"It was over a breather that you and I had our first little tiff. Seemed she preferred..."
"Those that did not smell," Eric chuckled. "And that is saying something considering she had no personal hygiene either."
"Women, Eric...they are so lovely and so fragile. I am going to be having houseguests. I have invited several of our mutual friends in for the weekend. I am sure they would love to see you. You do remember the lovely Lily. I had to turn her once I knew she was enamored of you and not me. And there are several other lovelies that make up her entourage these days. Oh-h-h, there shall be nudity and debauchery and all manner of illegal substance abuse and perhaps just a little abuse in general.
Oh," he said standing and looking thoughtful. "If and when you can ever rise up off of that table, the house is warded. Just in case you think someone is coming to your rescue. Sadly my friend, you ass is here to stay until you met the true death. My witch is the best in the business."
Tara had eyes on the chateau. "Those walls look to be five feet thick in places," she whispered.
"That is because they are," Samuel replied.
"I've made contact with Eric," Pam said smiling, then frowning. "He is in the basement and the house has been warded," she sputtered. "Fucking witches!" She felt like screaming her discontent out into the universe!
"Witches are not the problem," Samuel responded.
"No," her eyes riveted on him and he now had Pam's full attention.
"Pamela, have you any type of belief system in a high power?"
"No," she replied.
Tara shook her head, also. "My momma was a self righteous Bible thumper. I mean I believed in a good Hallelujah from time to time when I was doing shots of tequila, but since being turned, not so much."
"Not a problem, then. You create the diversion and I will go in and get him."
"And witches do not slow you down?" Pam said. "Why?"
"Because I am a good Jewish boy who believes in his God," he said shrugging. "I am going to blow a hole in the wall, down to Eric and then perhaps out a window. We will just see what is available. But I am going to be moving fast. So once you start the fireworks, I'll wait for Tuffy the Terrified Dragon to go off and then I'm in and out and tossing the bomb back in over my shoulder. That will slow down anyone who thinks they want to chase us."
"Okay," Tara replied as she watched her maker try and digest that. "We have the fireworks in the vineyard. You have The Viking and the bomb. Houston, it is a go for launch."