Disclaimer: I do not own any of the True Blood characters aside from the ones who play around in my imagination :)
This chapter is named for the song "Children Of Darkness" by Joan Baez.
Happy reading! And welcome back!
Chapter Two
Children Of Darkness
The sound of someone's hideous sobbing was obvious through the psychological barrier Birdie shrouded herself in, blocking out the tiny town of Bon Temps and the innocent little church picnic possibly turned massacre. Vampire Willa's cold, motionless lips did not wrap around the self inflicted wound as they should, rather remained slack around the jagged line caused by Birdie's house key.
"Please, please, please." murmured the woman in a mantra, begging the motionless vampire to take to the garish laceration traced across Birdie's pallid flesh, or whatever could be considered her flesh. Her eyes began to cloud in blackness as she forced her forearm against the vampire's country mouth, cradling her head with the other hand. Her fingers tangled into the messy pony tail as she bit her lower lip, shaking her own head as a string of curse words danced their distraught way through her head.
Footsteps were growing nearer, and she could hear a familiar yet distant call that seemed to be coming from the left, but her eyes remained on Willa's inert features. With the tell-tale signature chink, Willa's fangs dropped in her stupor and Birdie hitched her arm underneath the incisors, letting the blackness extending from her clouded eyes seep into the landscape of Willa's recent memory.
XXX
Willa sighed heavily under her breath, studying the floral pattern on the blouse of the venerable woman in front of her. The cotton was printed in yellow-green orchids and tappered at the flabby elbows, mismatched with pants of emerald covered in reddish poppies that probably wouldn't match anything, even if the lady had tried creating an acceptable outfit. Her husband, or who Willa assumed to be her husband, cradled a bottle of A&W against his scratchy bare arm, adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses while simultaneously scratching his salt and pepper moustache.
Both of them smelled of boiled hot dogs and value barbeque sauce, although the woman's breath, even from a few feet away, smelled of undigested medication and her unnecessary spritzes of Chanel No. 5 would have wafted from the revolving doors. The man, on the other hand, smelled of chlorine and dandruff, an almost unbearable scent against her sensitive nose.
"Oh, no young man - I'd like these packaged in paper." The woman spoke in an old southern drawl, the kind that suggested she ate a lot of butterscotch hard candies and tore out recipes from the Family Fun magazines while she waited to get her diabetes checked. Willa sighed again, this time a little louder as she shifted from one foot to the other. She never was an impatient girl, but she had little tolerance tonight. She was thirsty and hadn't fed since a few days ago, and even then, it was nothing special.
"Sign here on the pin pad, ma'am." The cashier sighed, raking his cracked nails against his poorly shaven face. He looked about two IQ points away from being considered a productive member of society, considering the way he did everything with little purpose, droopy brown eyes following the woman's hands as she struggled to understand the simple grocery store technology. "Ma'am, you gotta swipe the card and then do your signature."
"Oh, for Lord's sake - Howie!" Yelling just over the appropriate decibel for a local Meijer, the harpy called for her husband who shuffled loosely back from the display of restaurant gift cards he'd been perusing while his wife struggled with the pin pad. Glaring at him, she shoved the card into his hand and ordered him to complete the transaction.
"Have a nice night, ya'll." the bored cashier muttered while the couple shuffled away with their paper sacks of marshmallows, root beer, and name brand toilet paper.
"Sure is a nice night tonight." The boy, maybe just 18 or so, suddenly perked up at the sight of Willa as she sloshed the bottles of soda pop onto the counter, along with a catridge of Bud Lite that would probably be unappetizing even if she were human. He cleared his throat obnoxiously, scratchy Adam's apple gulping down the cavity of his throat."You drinkin' this all alone?"
"Actually, um, no. I don't drink soda. Not much." God, it was so hard to keep a straight face sometimes. Especially out in public like this while the ever-dubious and seemingly indifferent employees worked the evening shift like they were premium and everyone else could just suck ass. Willa waited patiently while the man rang up her charges, eyeing the glass half-sized cooler emulating wafts of air continuously at her bare legs. Huh. Funny how natural it seemed now to see cans of New Blood mixed in with Diet Mountain Dew and Coca Cola. Shit, they were so fucking ridiculous. Maybe it was the cans with Sarah Newlin's primpy little southern mug plastered all over them, or the fact that they just looked like energy drinks.
"This gonna be all?"
"Oh, wait," Willa bent down and rifled through the cooler, locating a chilled bottle of synthesized AB, setting it on the counter between the bottles of vodka, waiting expectantly. The New Blood tasted pretty preverse cold, but she was going to have to eat sometime before the picnic, ironically.
"Oh." The young cashier's face paled as he studied Willa's expectant features, dark eyebrows raised while she waited. "You's a - a vampire?"
"Yes, and one who's in a hurry." she shifted again, wiggling her toes in her red Converse. They always seemed to be cold - it didn't bother most, but she supposed she was still getting used to it, the no body temperature thing. "Please."
"I'm gonna need to see some ID." His Adam's apple rolled helplessly in his throat again, and immediately Willa felt her own pupils dilate, zoning in on the throbbing pulse against the catscratch stubble of the cashier's neck. She could almost feel the waves of undulating bloodflow eddying through his neck, the steady rush of syrup as he toggled back and forth from left foot to right.
"Uh, 'scuse me? I need to see your ID. Or, uh - so sale." Fancy that, carding a vampire for buying booze.
Willa would have turned red in the face if she could have, and she immediately shook her head, shaking herself out of her daze. "Of course, of course. I'm real sorry. Look, um..." She could almost hear Pam's voice in her head as she riffled around for her wallet, "Oh Jesus, a clumsy vampire, what a treat," until she finally located her driver's lisence.
"Have a nice night. Willa." he added, passing her identification back to her with one hand pressed against the counter.
"Thank you." She played him one smile, genuinely thankful to get out of this store. She'd always hated Meijer - all kinds of people crowded around to get bouncy balls and Cheezits, all crammed into one southern hootenanny fighting over the last package of freeze-n-drink margarita mix. And the entire place smelled of bike tires.
The beer and soda sloshed against the doubled-up plastic bags they were sheathed in as she strode with a purpose to the back of the parking lot, pressing the unlock button on the set of keys to the sports car parked near one of the trees the Meijer staff unsuccessfully planted in one of the wood-chipped flats to make the place look more like a garden.
Pam's Miata was ridiculous at best. For one, it was a smothering shade of petal pink, decked out in black leather. The thing was something directly out of a porno, a dominitrix's ride, and it wasn't really funny, because that was exactly what it was. Willa slid into the front seat and started the car, marveling at the stars through the sun roof. When she was little, she was intriqued by constellations, and even now, when they were the only things she saw when she looked up at the sky aside from the occasional moon, they still never ceased to excite her.
The open road was her paradise as she eased her foot down on the gas, listening to the steady rumble of the powerful engine beneath her as she sped down the highway, weaving to and fro amongst slow station wagons and beat up Chevys. Driving as a vampire was much more exhilerating than driving as a human. When it took a lot to "kill" you, it was worth having a little fun. With her enhanced vampire vision, she scanned the road nearly miles in advance, maneuvering like a freight train amonst mere ants on the freeway.
Willa cracked open the can of New Blood, scrunching up her face at the taste. Hell, it didn't taste bad, her maker had seen to that, but the thought of drinking anything remotely related to that scuz Sarah Newlin, it repulsed her. She forced herself to down half and left the rest to seathe in the cupholder.
The closest Meijer was at least half an hour from Shreveport, but she made it back shaving off at least twelve minutes. The parking lot was already packed, sex music bursting from the seams of the place as she approached, swinging the bottles in the Meijer bags in one hand and the seemingly weightless package of beer. Fangtasia had been"revamped", for lack of better word, since the creation of New Blood and the decline of Hep-V. Business was booming, seeing as the place was packed every night full of vampires on their last legs guzzling the overpriced New Blood, and the Fangbangers looking to cure themselves of the virus so they could get back on the prowl. Willa approached the line at the front where Pam stood checking IDs.
"Hey, no cutting, that ain't fair!" a girl, most likely a Fangbanger by the looks of her choice of attire, screeched from the middle of the line. With a satisfying shink, Willa's fangs clicked into place in a threatening gesture, grumbling under her breath as she sliced through the growing line.
"I'm going to need to see some identification." Pamela leered at her as she slumped against the doorway, ignoring the groans of frustration from the wrap-around line of humans and vampires.
"Let me in, Pam." She wasn't much in the mood for her vampire sister's sass or all-around moodiness, that was for sure. She hated this place. She was proud of it, but she hated it. "I'm in a tad of a hurry."
"Haven't we talked about plaid?" Pam rolled her eyes, plucking the ruffled collar of Willa's loose button-up with her manicured nails as if it were the nightgown her grandmother had died in. "You're supposed to be walking sex, not the handyman from Tool Time. Jesus fucking Christ."
"We can talk my fashion faux pas later, but I need to get in, I'm already late." Willa protested, but Pam kept her arm up against the doorframe in her leisurely sexy pose, raising one flaxen eyebrow the same way Eric did it.
"I don't see why you're always gallivanting off to that manure-reeking little town to attend church gatherings while you could be here having your way with anyone of your choosing if you just put your eyeliner on a little thicker. Not that it's my business to care." Pam paused, pursing her beestung lips. "By the way - give me my car keys the fuck back before I cut you so deep you'll think your petty lipgloss collection is a new line of crayons, we clear?" Both of her eyebrows raised this time, Willa had no option but to plunk the blonde vampire's Miata keys into her outstretched palm, ducking under her arm, although if Pam hadn't really wanted her to pass - well, she'd probably be against the wall right now.
"Next!" she heard over her shoulder as her vampire sister continued to (begrudgingly) check IDs.
The entire interior of Fangtasia was made to look like the inside of a coffin, what with the velvety red accent curtains and the hazy red lights draped around the various neon red signs and bar trademarks. Willa, ensnared in the sarcophagus of vampires dressed in black leather, red boas, the works, Fangbangers vying desperately to get laid in ridiculous dog collar chokers and risque attire, wove her way through the crowd towards the back, or rather front, of the bar. Pam was right, she was dressed severely wrong for this place, but she wouldn't be here long.
There was a small room off of the main strip of dancers and patrons, just left of the bar, and she slipped blithely over the counter and into the back room, careful to shut and lock the door behind her. Willa didn't want any unruly humans, or vampires, following her back to her room. Eric and Pam preferred their coffins to be downstairs - close to their "little secret", as they often reffered to Miss Newlin chained in the catacombs of their vampire bar. Willa wasn't a squealer, but she sure as hell didn't want to sleep next to the woman who was partially responsible for the corruption of her father.
So, wanting to please her and regain her trust, Eric had one of the storage rooms converted into a room for her. It wasn't much, but it was the closest thing to home her maker had given her. Against the wall was her coffin - a plain black thing with royal blue satin - she wanted to order one that was much more to her taste, but never really got around to it. It had been Tara's, and she was too sentimental to get rid of it. Besides, if she got a coffin to suit her, this place would seem much too like a home. And it wasn't, at least not to her.
There wasn't a closet, but Eric had hauled in a giant cherry wardrobe, antique no doubt, where she kept her clothing. There was a giant, spotty-with-age mirror on the front, complete with golden trim. No silver, of course.
Willa set down the Meijer bags and rifled through her closet, searching for something that would be appropriate for a church picnic. This was ridiculous, she'd been to plenty of them in her lifetime - her father used to drag her to them when she was younger, and he liked to be seen as a holy man. It was another opportunity for her mother to put on airs. But those had been during the day - what the hell was she supposed to wear to a night picnic?
"God." she mumbled, pushing through the "subtle" hints Pam had left in her closet; corsets, leather, magenta. Pam could be a real shit sometimes, mostly because she hated Willa and was constantly at her throat. Literally. It was blatant that the silty blonde didn't enjoy sharing her maker.
Sighing in defeat, Willa finally decided on a white dress printed in roses and shrugged out of her shorts and apparently unlawful plaid shirt, letting the fabric tumble to the concrete floor beside her red Converse. As she began to dress, she felt a sudden pang of adoration through the bond she and her maker shared - a nearly warm feeling of affection, strange endearment that made her toes warm up for once. His emotions suddenly changed to amusement as she turned to see him hovering in the doorway.
"Aren't you supposed to be on your throne?" Willa started, kneeling to paw through her wardrobe for the right pair of shoes. "What else is the point of this place?"
"I saw you come in." Eric shrugged indifferently, striding to her side and kneeling beside her in one fluid motion, dipping his hand into the cluttered mess. He retrieved a pair of beaded white sandals, raising his eyebrows. "No?"
Willa considered, rolling her eyes as she swiped the shoes from him, putting them on in a blur as she marveled at Eric, who stood towering over the world with his arms crossed, per usual.
"Off to discuss psalms and have tea and krumpets with the ladies?" his dusky voice was full of sarcasm, although he needn't have said anything - Willa could feel his mockery through the tug inside of her, their bond. "You're forgetting your Bible, Lady Burrell."
"You know it isn't like that," she sat at her vanity, brushing the ends of her forever-glossy dark hair as he stood behind her, cynically staring at her in the mirror. "And besides, they're having it at night just for me and the other vampires-"
"Oh, the other vampires?" he stated stoically, raising one eyebrow the same way Pam had earlier. "Does this include me? Shouldn't I be looking for a tie to match you?"
"Hmph." Willa pouted, tucking a few bobby pins into her windswept hair. "How do you think that would blow over?"
"Maybe I'm a killer at croquet." Her maker leaned against the wall casually, "Although, when I was a human, we used enemies' heads. Not those senseless colored balls. And we didn't call it croquet, we called it vengence."
"Eric." Willa rolled her eyes but Eric remained stoic.
"Have fun, baby vampire." he lilted nearly boredly, turning on his heel to return to his rightful throne. "And behave yourself. But not too much."
"Yes, Master." She sighed again as she retrieved the Meijer merchandise. "Wait! Eric, Pam took her car keys back."
"She's a clever crow." he paused, seeming to be grinding his jaw, probably at the thought of Pam's all-around stubborn nature, or her ridiculous pink car. He tossed her his car keys, which she caught out of the air like a speeding bullet, beaming.
"One scratch, and it's your ass, liten flicka." he stated before disappearing back into the bar scene. Willa could never truly tell if he was being serious or not, but she was certain she still sucked at his native tongue.
XXX
Willa Burrell's memory came flooding through to her like a picture show sped up to one hundred, all at once yet slowly, as if Willa savored each and every recollection. So often vampires let their everyday lives slide off their back - even if they involved themselves in slaughter upon slaughter, they disregarded every moment as something that belonged to them and them alone.
Desperately fighting the blackness that had threatened to overtake her moments before, Birdie took a deep breath that expanded her chest outwards against the strain of her ruffled blouse. It had been so long. This wasn't right, it wasn't at all. She could already feel the second life seeping through her palm as her fingers buried deeper into the vampire's obsidian brunette hair, and with an internal roar, she gathered the strength to pull the vampire from the darkness that was gnawing at her.
"Willa." she whispered in one final attempt, pressing a hand to her cheek. The warm, full feeling Willa's memory created forged through their newly created bond pulsed through her body like blood would, a slightly sickening feeling as Birdie willed her to reanimate. She could recall every detail of the woman's memory now - the exact touch of the beaded sandals her feet were clothed in now as she slipped them on, the coursing blood bond through her at all times - she was feeling Willa's maker.
Birdie had never woken up a vampire before - in retrospect, she was glad she'd never had to, because Willa burst from the ground in such an impossibly quick motion that it nearly gave her whiplash just watching it happen. Her fangs were yet to retract and they gleamed in the lantern light as she bared them at the night, letting out an inhuman snarl that radiated somewhere from deep in her heaving chest as she stanced herself in a predatory position.
"Willa!" Birdie hissed under her breath, taking note of the vampire's completely confused and terrified face. Fancy that, a frightened vampire. Her bobbin ponytail had become askew, pieces pulled out from where it had been gathered at her neck, and the white floral dress was canopied in wood chips and smudges of dirt sullying the fabric.
"Birdie?" her Southern voice questioned back, the facets of her eyes coming to rest on Vampire Jessica's lifeless body on the ground, pure shock and horror crossing her features like a ripple. Or a domino effect - the terror on her face quickly became frantic as she eyed her evident friend, motionless upon the ground.
Taking in another sharp breath, Birdie startled when she felt the slender body of a familiar feline slink against her left leg, comforting in the way a child cuddled a security blanket or a raggedy old bear. The cat was strikingly normal - perhaps it would have been a house feline, with its calico design of carrel and white with hints of gray here and there. It let out a soft mewl, encouraging her, although the cat at her heels was just as hesitant as she regarded Willa, kneeling beside the redheaded vamp's body.
The cat, with its glowing aura about it, placed a white paw on Jessica's chest, barely disturbing her at all as Willa looked on, keeping her distance as she most likely tried to sort through this maddening shit. Anyone else's eyes were blind to the cat, purring nervously at her heels as she pressed the already gaping wound to her slack mouth until she drank in her trace, creating a new set of fang indentations beside Willa's.
Birdie's head was spinning as she stumbled aimlessly onto the ground beside Jessica's limp body. Gasping at the intense emptiness to her eyes, Birdie pensively kneeled at her side, wondering if it was too late. Wondering if they had already given her something much worse than a True Death.
Jessica was nonexistent in full form in the replica of her own memory. A small cubby void of the sun, or any light at all for that matter. She slept soundly, peacefully, not even dreaming. A vampire's slumber.
She drank from Birdie, giving Birdie her own sustenance as she regained herself, inhaling the sunlight until she collapsed once again in a heap. No. She couldn't just leave the bubbly vampire to shrivel into nothingness - how could she be so cruel? Folding her hands over her chest gently, Birdie stumbled back to her feet, backed by the familiar cat, which wove in and out of her shaky legs. Perhaps only seconds had passed since the ghostly mist had disappeared, but she had already been at the scene for long enough.
Disappearing without a trace was her forte.
"Birdie?" Willa questioned again, coming forward with dampness glistening in her eyes. She spoke the name with unfamiliarity, drawing it out as if she were just learning to talk again after suffering a stroke. The cat became alert as a white rock dove materialized onto the vampire's shoulder, all goodness and brightness radiating from its gentle coos. Willa, of course, was unaware of its existence.
The cat hissed menacingly at the bird, which ruffled its white feathers in response, in confusion as its companion Willa was.
"Willa, I -" Birdie started, only to be interrupted as Jason Stackhouse jogged up from behind the shed, heaving wildly as he stopped to catch his breath.
"Is everyone okay? Mother-fucks chased me halfway 'cross the old Peacewood fields. What the hell were those things?"
"Jessica." was all Willa was able to produce, a gasp of air as she struggled to come to terms with what had just happened. She wouldn't dare utter a word about Birdie - for all Officer Stackhouse knew, Birdie was just as confused as the rest of the towns folk.
The redhead was just coming back to her senses, pushing her fragile body from the ground with one pale hand. Her eyes were damp as well, watering with the realization that she had come ever so close to her Ether. Whatever had been in store for her, and Willa for that matter, had been within her sights, and her crystalline eyes had seen the same blackness that lie beyond her death that Willa's startled topaz ones had.
"Jess? Jess, are you okay?" Hoyt's frantic arms wrapped around the sobbing vampire, encircling her with his tree-trunk comfort. Jessica's cheeks stained crimson - the strange, eerie blood tears pooling at her ducts as she pressed her chin against her husband's shoulder. Although her eyes stayed on Birdie. She knew.
As the church picnic regathered itself and assessed the damage, which was mostly property wise, although a few humans had been injured by hurdling objects and the malevolent creatures who had crashed the party, Birdie covered the gaping gray wound with her free hand, keeping it out of sight as she pushed through the terrified Bon Temps citizens, wondering what the hell had happened. The cat followed closely behind, weaving deftly between the stumbling patrons to keep up with her, always.
"Birdie!" a feminine voice called above the dull murmur of the crowd, but Birdie didn't dare look back. She knew better than to by now. Hell, at least she thought she did. "Birdie, god damn it, wait!"
To fuck with that. She wasn't going to stop. She would get in her car. She would drive. She wouldn't stop until she was far away.
With a gush of air, Willa vamped in front of her, arms crossed over her chest as if she'd been standing there all along. Birdie gasped, startled, but turned to go around her.
"Birdie, we need to talk." The brunette tilted her head to the side, and Birdie got a good look at her scarlet-rimmed eyes.
"Not now. I need to get home."
"I'll take you." Willa insisted, still gritting her teeth and digging her hypothetical heels in. "Home, or wherever you want to go."
"I can't. Goodnight, Willa. Go somewhere where it's safe."
Willa trudged after her, this time at human speed. "Is anywhere safe? What if those things come back?"
"Those things?" Birdie turned, and the calico stopped a few feet behind her, resting in the swaying ember grass. "Listen to me closely, Willa." She stepped over the swaying slender weeds, closer to the taller woman. Yes, she was bigger and stronger in her immortal state. "What happened tonight - no one can know about that."
"I wasn't going to tell." Willa bit onto her lower lip and gnawed like she was never going to let go. "What about Jessica?"
"Keep her on the mum. Go home." She said simply, turning to the ball field again, scanning for her car. Her keeps were still clutched in her right hand and she began trudging towards the vehicle.
Birdie pushed the golden tresses of now tangled blonde out of her face, panting as she stumbled towards the lot of cars, shaking vision failing as she traipsed towards the green Beetle. She half expected it to be on its side for whatever reason, but it was just as she left it, the driver's door open. The feline leapt in before her as she slid into the front and slammed the door, feeling every urge to cry.
The man - the blonde man, Willa's maker. A bar out on Industrial Drive. A beat down groccery store, Birdie had seen it all. One glimpse into Vampire Willa's mind was her virtue.
She turned the keys in the ignition.
It stalled.
"Fuck!" she mused, slamming her hand in the rotary position again, willing the beast to rumble to life. She must get as far away from Bon Temps as possible. And it had to be tonight.
The car continued to stall, creating an unbearable screeching noise. Willing the engine to roar to life once more, Birdie gasped and tossed the keys against the window in a moment of fright as the passenger side door flung open on its hinges, revealing a small figure in a ripped white floral dress, a smear of dried blackness cavorting from one side of her mouth.
"Birdie Blaire?" Willa questioned as the white dove came to rest on her left shoulder, and Birdie let out an exasperated sigh, feeling very much like screaming her anxieties out. "Birdie -"
"Willa Burrell, do you have a car? I fucking - I need a car, and-"
"Follow me." Her answer was nearly immediate, and Birdie slammed the door shut behind her, cursing the Beetle as she followed the vampire through the darkness, regretting every decision she'd made this night.
"Where do we need to go?" Willa shoved the keys into the red Corvette's ignition, engine purring to life seductively. The vampire's obedient look was so - bizarre. She wasn't dominant at all, which surprised her.
Birdie clutched the seat, squeezing her eyes shut. "We? There is no we."
"Please. I want to help." Willa begged, and Birdie shook her head, gritting her teeth.
"Start driving."
There was chapter two! I'd like to hear what you guys all think of this - what is with the cat following Birdie around? Is Birdie the only one able to see the cat and the dove? What the hell is Birdie? She she just glimpse Willa's and Jessica's memories?
Thanks for reading, and please drop me a line if it suits you!