AN: WOW! I finally understand what other writers mean when they say "reviews are like crack". Everyone that has followed or favorited or reviewed; you are A-mazing!
Chapter 2
Curiousity Kills
The next 24 hours came and went as a blur. I slept when I could close my eyes and not see Jason's lifeless body lying frozen in the grass. Those few brief minutes too often interrupted by the knocking of folks bringing sympathy and condolences to our door. At those times the blunt raps on the old door jolted me from my partial slumber as surely as the gunshots had. With each new visit, I was violently awake and rushing to my bedroom window, panic overtaking me. My heart beat pounding into my head and all the way down into my fingertips, my breath came in quick short bursts and then exhaustion resumed again. Giving up on the prospect of sleep I stood looking out the bedroom window which had a bird's eye view of the scene of my family tragedy. My head rested against the cool window pane as I watched like a princess high in her tower, the changing of the guard. Sheriff Dearborn and Detective Andy Bellefleur had taken up shifts watching over the house. I wasn't quite sure why. They had both assured me that Gran wouldn't be arrested and booked for her crime. No matter how overzealous Andy Bellefleur might have been at times to make a big name for himself in the small town of Bon Temps, even he couldn't bring himself to handcuff Adele Stackhouse, pillar of the community, even if she had become a frail, demented spector of her former self. Or maybe because of that. Instead it was what Reverend Newsome and his wife had named it when they came calling this morning, "An accident, a horrible, horrible accident". It was at least the one thing in a long time that the town could agree on.
I made a quick trip to the rest room and splashed cold water on my face in an effort to wash away some of the tiredness. It didn't help. I had been playing the part of the grieving grandaughter for a while now, my face was already ready for mourning sister. I headed downstairs to meet Andy at the door. He'd no doubt want to try to talk to Gran about what happened. Maybe it was the policeman in him, maybe it was the fact that his own grandmother was older than Gran and he had a morbid curiosity about what might be in store for her? Who could say? I knew what happened as soon as it happened. Gran had been getting more confused at night, scared to be alone and paranoid. Dr. Burke had warned Jason and I both that this often occured. Jason slipped home that night to a frightened old woman, who was confused, whose eyesight was failing her and she mistook him for an intruder. No CSI needed. No team from the Jeffersonian with high-tech computers and genius PhD's. Horrible, horrible accident.
I met Andy at the door. He greeted me with Caroline Bellefleur's famous chocolate cake. It would be a great step up from the macaroni salad Maxine Fortenberry had brought earlier in the day.
"Evening, Andy", I said with as much politeness as my tired body could muster, "please come in".
Andy nodded his balding head and smiled in kind before stepping around me and walking the chocolate cake to it's designated place at the center of the table. Caroline Bellefluer;s chocolate cake was was famous in the small town of Bon Temps, it wouldn't suit to have it cast off on the buffet table. What would Gran think? We walked into the small living room and took our seats, Andy on the couch and I in the oversized chair with it's almost thread bare arm rests. There was no love lost between Andy Bellefleur and my brother. Jason always said that Andy used his badge against him because he was jealous of his good looks and athletic ability. Women, it seemed to Jason, was also an area of envy for the older Bellefluer. But on more than one occasion when I'd had the honor of picking my brother up following a bar room brawl too many, I'd seen that Andy only did what he had to do, even though Jason never saw it that way. Vanity, Jason is thy name. Or was your name, I quickly thought to myself. Several quick trips inside Andy's thoughts led me to discover that all he really wanted was to be taken seriously. In his head he'd called Jason an "arrogant, little self important prick" from time to time. And I suppose looking at Andy it would be easy to think that Jason's good looks might be the reason. Andy Bellefleur was not an attractive man in the traditional sweep you off your feet way with his balding head and awkard smile. But inside where it counted, he was a good man. Turned out that his biggest grudge against my brother was that he thought that when Jason talked, people listened. It didn't matter to him that it was only his road crew buddies. It was somebody.
This night, no animosity toward Jason lingered. Andy's only thoughts were if he could do anything to help Gran and I. As he looked around our home and it's worn but well loved furnishings he wondered to himself how we could afford Jason's burial expenses. And like clockwork, he was embarrassed when he remembered the rumors that I might be able to hear him. All kinds of people in town knew about my telepathy. Some believed it as gospel and some, like Andy Bellefleur, was never sure and never brave enough to ask. I'd gotten from his thoughts that despite his reservations about Jason, he'd had a genuine like for me and a genuine respect for Gran. I decided to let him off the hook.
"It's ok Andy," I sighed, gently twining my fingers in and out of the old homemade afgan that draped over the edge of my chair "I'm too tired to be offended and I know in your heart you'd only want to help, not judge us."
Andy dropped his head and laughed nervously and cleared his throat, "Ahem..How's your Gran tonight Sookie?
That was the million dollar question. Gran had spent the better part of the day rocking in her old chair staring out the back window saying nothing. When she did speak it came in short bursts of unfinished sentences, "You know," she would begin, "I had", she started. Rarely in her sleep she would mumble a name that meant nothing to me.
"She's the same. I don't know if she fully understands what happened, " I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand and yawned deep, "she's said a name a few times, but I don't recognize it. Dr. Burke says sometimes the long term memory works better than the short term memory and folks think they're still young, that sort of thing. Maybe this person is an old boyfriend?" I shrugged.
I could sense the excitement in Andy's voice as he asked, "Well, what was the name Sookie? Maybe I can do a search on it?" He quickly tempered his excitement when I hung my head in defeat. The man was going to offer to pay for your brother's service Sookie, I thought to myself, just give him the name. What could it possibly hurt at this point?
"Delmont? Delbert? I don't know Andy, something like that." I finally offered
"Well which is..." he started before my fatigued expression shamed him into silence. He started over, "Have you been in the house all day alone with her?"
"Alone, no", I answered, "Mrs. Fortenberry's been here twice. Beulah Larue, Maude Shockey, all the ladies from Gran's bridge club and half the Daughter's of the American Revolution came by. Oh and Clive Pritchard stopped by to see if I would be interested in selling the Benelli.", my mind seethed at the memory of that conversation. "Tara and Lafayette, Sam and Hoyt all came by to pay thier respects too." I'd expected to see the rest of the would-be mourners at Jason's actual funeral, but according to Mike Spencer, that was still two days away. And honestly I could wait to meet them, the few that I did encounter already had been more than enough for me. I hated to seem ungracious, but it was just the truth.
The onslaught of thoughts pouring off those who had come by had been overwhelming. I'd always found it odd that when emotions ran high, people were easier to read. And there had been so much raw emotion today, mine included. Grief, loss, anxiety fear ran rampant through my fellow mourners. I was more than a little unnerved that only a minority of thoughts were actually directed towards the loss of Jason. I'd expected people to feel sorry for me, although in my mind "pity" was the ugliest four-letter word I could think of. I knew people would worry about what would become of Gran. There were more than a few passing thought suggestions that I should put her into a nursing home. The visions I picked out of Maude Shockey's brain as she sat quietly holding Gran's hand assured me that I would never submit Gran to that, no matter what the personal cost to me. I was still in middle school when her husband, Robert, had gone to the old folks home. He had taken to walking to the mailbox in nothing but his underpants and trying to sneak the car out of the driveway. On one such occassion they had found him all the way over in Clarice where he had wrecked the car into a retaining wall in front of an Elementary school. Maude's thoughts told me she had regretted that decision since the day she'd made it. I could see in her mind the locked hall where the patients lived. It's apricot colored walls and beiged tile floors weathered with use. In her memories were the smell of human soil and disinfectant spray. The sounds were those of people screaming out unintelligible things at the tops of their lungs, all day, every day. It was her personal hell and thanks to my telepathy I felt like I had lived it with her. I had to mentally shake myself and force my attention back to Andy who waited patiently, sympathetically, for me to snap out of my haze.
When I had finally roused enough to look Andy in the eye, his face wore a mask of genuine concern. Even his mind told me that he was afraid I was close to a breaking point.
"Sookie," he began in that backward humbled voice he sometimes owned, " I know we ain't never been good friends and I'd never try to tell you what to do...aw hell, grandma is gonna skin me for this..." his voice faltered.
"What is it Andy?" I asked. There were few things in this world Caroline Bellefleur would find worthy of a skinning. She was a true southern lady, just like Gran was, as long a good manners were involved, little else mattered. Andy hesitated and then rolled his eyes at the ceiling and sighed before continuing.
"Have you thought about getting a nurse to come in and help with your Gran? Not all the time, mind you, just enough to give you a little bit of a break."
Before I had the opportunity to kiss his cheek for the best idea I'd ever heard and then politely decline because A: family takes care of family and B: how would I afford a private duty nurse on a waitress salary, he laid another surprise at my feet.
"Grandma has a nurse that comes in three times a week.", he said suddenly, "She helps her in and out of the bath, makes sure she's taking her blood pressure medicine right. She's a right fine woman too, Sookie. I could call her if you want. I figure since she's already in Bon Temps, it wouldn't be no trouble to swing by here and check up on you and your Gran." Andy was smiling now, that big awkard smile that so many found off-putting but I was beginning to find endearing. I could soon see in his mind what he was smiling about. She was a small woman, probably a few years older than me with delicate, lovely features. Her skin was the color of caramels and her hair the darkest black, thick and long in a thousand little braids all held together in one big braid down her back. She had round cheery cheeks and full lips and when she smiled, her whole face was a glow. She had the whitest, movie star smile I had ever seen, but her eyes were absolutely stunning; a shade of green so brilliant it was like looking into two royal gems. He had watched her many times as she cared for Mrs. Bellefleur. He liked that as she worked and comforted the old woman she would hum or sometimes sing old gospel hymnals. Andy thought her voice sounded like an angel. I looked at him carefully, oh my stars, Andy Bellefleur was blushing as he realized I had picked up on every thought. I couldn't help smiling back, with my widest and best smile too. Even in the face of tragedy, love is all you need, right?
Andy waited patiently for me to answer, silently hoping that I'd agree. He'd imagined that the more time Abby Morningstar spent in Bon Temps, the more likely he was to see her. I couldn't begrudge him that. So his intentions weren't exactly pure, are anybody's these days? And oh my, even though the thought of leaving Gran would cause the guilt to heap around my shoulders like a thick winter coat, it was tempting.
I sighed, "Andy, your offer is really tempting, you can't imagine. But let's say I did take you up on it, where would I go? Merlottes?" I laughed right out loud at that. "People would really start calling me 'Crazy Sookie' when word got out that I paid good money for someone to sit with Gran, so I could take a break..by going to my job...and seeing the exact same folks who just left my house."
Andy's eyes almost bugged out of his head distorting his already awkardly animated features, an unsophisticated "D'Oh" rushed out of his mouth as he slammed his hand on the end table with such force that it nearly up-ended the lamp, "Sookie, I can't believe no one told you..well I mean of course no one told you, you been kinda busy...Jesus I'm insensitive sometimes, Sookie..I'm sorry." His words all jumbled togther in a big excited streak.
"Andy it's fine, just spit it out." I said.
Andy's face resumed it's previous 'kid on christmas morning' glow as he proudly reported, "Merlotte's got it's first vampire last night."
Well, that, I didn't expect to hear. I guess my gasp of shock just spurred Andy further.
"Yeah, Sookie, his name is Bill Compton, can you believe that? Compton..like old man Compton over past the cemetary." He rattled on, "I guess when old James passed on he decided to come back here and claim the old homestead..that 'Vampires are Americans too' campaign or something. Anyway, I heard tell that he was turned into a vampire 'round the Civil War. Folks say he's a real gentleman too, Sam don't seem to trust him none but he's been cordial so long as sticks to that mainstreaming..." Andy's thoughts were once again a frenzied blur. Somewhere during his rant about the misconceptions and mainstreaming my thoughts drifted back to what everyone called The Great Reveal, when vampires came out of the coffin.
It had been two years past, right about the time Gran started getting forgetful. It had been all over the news and I rushed right home as fast as my little car and legs would carry me. I burst through the back door to find Gran at the kitchen table, her glasses slid down her nose and her head in one of her stories.
"Gran...Gran", I'd yelled with all the ferver of a child with a secret, "Gran vampires are real! Did you hear that, REAL?"
In her measured response she merely pointed one finger towards the dog-eared page of her book, raised an eyebrow and said calmy, "I told you dear, there's always a little bit of truth in the stories."
Much to my disappointment, the rest of Bon Temps acted similairly in regards to the fact that the 'un-dead' walked among us, worked at the grocery store, starred in movies and sometimes held public office. I had expected a scandal, but got nothing but indifference. I guess the folks of Bon Temps had bigger fish to fry. For them, it was enough that they found good jobs, got their kids through school and paid the bills. Just so long as they didn't have a 'vamper' actively staring down their neck, they were content to live and let, um, un-live. As a telepath; from one thing that should not be to another, I'd found that my curiosity was almost limitless. On my days off from Merlotte's, I'd find myself making excuses to run over to Monroe or Clarice. I'd tell Gran that I was going to the store or running errands for Sam but in truth I was hidden at the library computer looking over the internet for any information I could find.
One thing about surfing the internet was certain, you could never be sure how much truth was mixed in with the fiction. New websites had sprung up all over, some where in favor of our newest neighbors and couldn't wait to tell you how much like us they were. Pictures and videos showed them doing everyday mundane things like pumping gas or out for an evening jog. There was Steve, the Vampire Accountant who was open from 11:00pm until 6:00 am to help with you tax season needs. I had to admit, short of looking like he'd never seen a Lousiana summer (and he hadn't actually), Steve didn't look any different than a normal, human accountant. Of course I had to remind myself that to everyone else, I looked like a normal barmaid. On the other side of the coin, new 'churches' had popped up all over the country seemingly overnight. Naming themselves the 'Fellowship of the Sun', their websites proclaimed the sort of hate and bigotry that would've shamed the Klan. Their pictures and videos clearly more amatuer than the pro-vampire ones. Actors stalked a little girl in campy, fake oversized fangs and then the girl was shown screaming with what looked like ketchup on her neck.
The ones that were right down the middle were they one's that I found to be the most interesting. It was forum of humans, curious like me, about vampires. They shared stories of their own experiences or those "friend of a friend" experiences. Of course there were some misguided humans who thought they were vampires, dressing all in black, painting their faces white and naming themselves things like Raven Bloodstone, and there were folks who wanted to be vampires. They'd spent hours weighing the pros and cons, but being 'turned' always came up on top for them. Then there were the 'Fangbangers', women and men who to hear them tell it had sex with vampires and let them drink their blood. Their stories were often so graphic that I found myself blushing in front of the computer screen. According to them vampires were supposed to be extraordinary lovers, I guess they'd had a lot of practice. Most of the women, and some men, obsessed about this one particular vampire bar in Shreveport, Fangtasia. Fangtasia? Really?. If anyone ever wondered if all the vampires were in cahoots on some great big joke on the human population, a bar named Fangtasia would would settle that bet. It even had it's own sub-forum and there were hundreds of threads dedicated to the 'blond Viking god' as they called him. Even though no-one had any real information to speak of, the rabid posters all agreed that he was at least 1000 years old and an honest to god Viking before he was turned...oh and "so fucking hot", can't forget that. There were more than a dozen posts about the things the 'fangbangers' wanted to do to this vampire, some things I'm quite certain aren't even legal in the state of Louisiana. But no one had actually ever claimed to get close enough to him to do it.
I knew that Jason had gone to Fangtasia once, maybe twice. I overheard him telling Lafayette about it one evening in the bar. As quick as I approached they both shushed up pretty quick like they'd been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. But I wondered if Jason had ever seen him? I decided to bite the bullet and visit the Fangtasia website. They advertised a store that sold all sorts of kitschy items that would no doubt appeal to tourists; black thong panties with white fangs designed on the front, blood red t-shirts with the Fangtasia logo and a caption that read " Life begins at dark". They also sold a promotional calendar. I looked around carefully to make sure no one was looking and clicked the thumbnail to open the pictures.
And there he was, the infamous Viking of internet fandom. Jesus Christ, Sheppard of Judea.
After reminding myself that breathing was a necessity, I continued to stare. He was without question the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. His long blond hair thrown casually over one muscular shoulder. His attire, which consisted only of a stragically placed fur blanket, left very little to the imagination his porcelain skin looked like silk pulled over a marble Adonis statue. The perfect, strong features of his face with just a hint of a smile. But it was his eyes, those piercing blue eyes that almost looked like they were inviting me to step into the picture that captured me. There was something there for sure, something familair, something I had seen somewhere before. Then it hit me. Have you ever been to the zoo and seen the tiger enclosure? One of nature's most perfect predators lounging behind the glass, soaking up the sun. We can't help but be drawn to them, their bored indiffence at our goings on. Their keepers come once, twice a day, and shovel meat in their direction to keep them fed and keep them just this side of wild. But he doesn't want to be fed, he craves the hunt. And if we would just slip over that glass enclosure...just far enough...
Andy's hurried tones grabbed my attention as I filed the 'beautiful but deadly' information away for later. In all the time it had taken me to recollect my various research on vampires, Andy Bellefleur had yet to miss a beat, or it appeared take a breath.
"..."And some say he's got a woman living with him in that old house, I ain't seen her yet. I hear he's got her under his 'thrall', Andy wriggled his fingers beside his head as if to emphasize the spookiness of the word.
"It's called a glamour, Andy", I said matter-of-factly. Thank you very much Google for me making me Bon Temps' resident authority on vampires. As quickly as the thought entered my head, the word glamour made me think of another article I had recently read.
A study conducted at a presitgious University in California. Researchers there had tested the properties of vampire blood. Only willing vampires participated, of course, but both human and vampires alike had been on the fence about what good could come from it .I had read on the human forum that vampire blood could be used as a drug. "V- addicts" were becoming just as prevelant as regular old addicts, but this trial spoke of the potential healing properties of the blood from minimizing scar tissue to assisting with fractures. There were distinct possibilites that it could be used to cure or at least slow down cancer. Further in to the study, the researchers wrote about a sort of vampire mind control. Debates aplenty arose around this suggestion and there was even a link inside the research to an article written by an opponent of vampires used in human healthcare titled, "Vampire Hypnotism; One look away from clucking like a chicken to being a chicken dinner". But the scientists in the study wouldn't be deterred. They'd insisted that by using what the vampires referred to as "glamour", soldiers returning from war could be treated successfully for PTSD. They'd even went so far to hypothesize that any problem with the human mind could be cured or controlled by glamour. What could that mean for my little problem? What could it mean for Gran's?
My mind jumped quick to the last conversation I had with Jason.
"I'm not going to be around the next couple nights...I've got a friend who specializes in things with folks' memories and she might be able to help Gran."
Before I changed my mind, I made good on my internal offer to kiss Andy's cheek and shocked him into being still long enough to look at me like I'd grown a second head.
"Alright Andy, you've convinced me", I said smiling. "How soon can Abby be here? I'd like to be at Merlotte's before first dark if possible."
While Andy made the necessary call, I dashed upstairs to prepare for my very own 'Interview with a Vampire".
TBC :K
This chapter's musical offering...Curiosity Kills by Jane's Addicition.
