Pam's POV
We were across the street and infront of her car in less than a second. I had not really looked around before. I was too consumed with the overwhelming emotions coming from my maker. But now as I took in the sight in front of me I began to feel something that I have never felt before: Helplessness. We are too late. There is nothing for me to do but to watch the scene in front of me unfold.
Sookie Stackhouse, telepathic part fae waitress who has fought off vampires, weres, and fairies, who made us all love her even against our own wills, was lying dead in a pool of her own blood. The handy work not of a vengeful supernatural, but apparently of a mere human with a knife.
I knew that I would grieve her. I knew that for the first time in two centuries I would feel sadness. But I could not process any of that right now. Now I could only feel the overwhelming agony that was overtaking my maker.
Eric was kneeling with her in his arms. His pants steadily soaking up blood from the pool around him. He looked up to me bewildered and then back down at her. Then he tore his wrist open and put it to her mouth.
"Lover you must drink. You must have my blood. My love open your mouth." Eric tried to coax her softly as his blood dripped onto her face. Suddenly I felt my own feelings welling up inside of me, and again that helplessness. Surely he knew. I knew, so surely he must know, must feel it besides. It was too late. Yet he remained there talking to her corpse as though it were a particularly slow, particularly recalcitrant child.
"Lover, lover you must drink." His voice rose incremetally and the note of panic in it became more pronounced. "Sookie you must hurry, Sookie please!" He began to scream at her, shaking her.
"Eric stop." I whispered to him. "Eric she is gone." I made to move closer to him, my hand outstretched to touch him, to offer him some comfort even though the concept had here to for been unknown to me. But before I could reach him he pulled back and hissed at me, fangs bared.
"Do not touch your mistress. Go call for help, call an ambulance." My eyes widened at his command. And as I looked at him my feeling of helplessness was replaced by an even worse feeling: Fear. The look in his eyes was completely unhinged.
"Eric there is nothing anyone can do for her. Sookie is dead." I kept my voice even, level, I tried for emotionless. Suddenly I heard him scream. No words, nothing coherent, just pain. And then almost to fast for me to see he took to the sky and was gone taking Sookie's body with him.
I stood there for a few moments longer. Looking around me. Completely incapable of thinking about what I should do next. In my 200 years I have not loved many people. One of the people I loved had died tonight, and she might take the other person I loved with her. That thought chilled me to my very soul.
When Eric's maker died, I knew he felt very little in the way of sorrow over it. And in truth I think most progeny feel that way. A moment might pass where they remember all their maker taught them, or they might feel gratitude that they have been given eternal life, and then they realize that they are free and that feeling of freedom overshadows any small sorrow. It generally helps that most vampires where turned against their will and have little in the way of actual love for the being that stole their life.
Not so for me. I love what I am and I have from the moment I woke as a vampire. And I have always loved the man who gave me this life. A memory hits me and causes my stomache to feel tight. Sookie and I sitting on the shifters porch. The night I told her of my turning, and begged her to have mercy on my master. She asked me if I had loved him and I told her no. Of course that was a half truth but the whole answer was far to complicated, and really no one but another vampire could truly understand. What Sookie meant was had I loved Eric romantically, and the answer was honestly no. But to say that I don't love him is a lie. I love him with my whole being. He is my father, my brother, my friend, and yes once he was my lover. I owe him an unrepayable debt for giving me this life. I have always happily come when he called, and when I could have gone my own way I chose to stay, because my life is simply not as enjoyable without his presense in it. I love him in a way that no human walking this earth can ever understand. My relationship to him has been the defining relationship of my life. 200 years after my making he is more my father than my father was. We know each other in ways that no one else ever will. We have fought together, laughed together, cried together, I have loved him and at times hated him, rebelled against him and then run to his shelter, he has been my saftey and a few times I have even been his.
And now I could lose him. I saw the look in his eye. I saw the madness. Should it dawn on him at any point before sunrise that she is really dead, he will meet the sun, I have no doubt of it. This thought spurs me from my legarthy as perhaps nothing else could. As I prepare to go back across the street to my car I step on something and look down. The knife that was used to kill Sookie. Suddenly I am filled with overwhelming rage. It is an emotion that I am quite familiar with and one I now let wash over me. Allowing my vampire nature to come out and take me over. I pick the knife up and smell it. My fangs slam down so hard I actually feel my gums hurting slightly. There on it is the scent of her murderer. As I suspected the person who ended her life was no supernatural. The scent is entirely human.
I have much to do tonight. But the vermin scum who did this will suffer and suffer greatly. I raise my voice only slightly and call out Thalia's name. Within a moment she is out of the club, accross the street, and infront of me.
"Pam, you called me." She is looking around, and though she must wonder what I want she keeps her face completely nuetral.
"You recognize the car?" I ask her. She looks it over and her eyes widden almost imperceptably.
"It's Sookie's car isn't it?" She isn't really asking, and she isn't looking at the car. Thalia's eyes are planted squarely on the pool of congealing blood infront of the driver's side door, and the little handbag lying next to it. The contents of which are spilled all over the ground.
"Yes. She was murdered tonight." I hold out the knife to Thalia and she takes it from me. "With this. Can you smell the scent?" Thalia nods her fangs coming down as well. "Take it, find out who did this. Bring them to the warehouse. Do not kill them. Call me when it is done. Do you understand?"
"Only to well. It will be done." Without another word Thalia takes off into the night. She was never particualrly attached to Sookie, but she is loyal to Eric, and she is a vampire. She will take great pleasure in hurting the person who did this simply because we love to hurt things. If Thalia can succeed in finding Sookie's murderer than I may have the very thing that will induce Eric to live at least for a few more nights.