Disclaimer:I own nothing from the Sookie Stackhouse Universe. All characters mentioned in the books belong to Charlaine Harris.
Thank you greatly for the reviews! A huge thank you to Wandersfar for helping me revise not only this chapter but previous ones! Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 7
Oh god, oh god, oh god. What had he done? Bo paced back and forth in the kitchen. His ribs were mending far too slowly for his liking and his back was killing him. Bo would have interrogated the vampire outside, but he was afraid that the bloodsucker might have brought friends. He was stupid to believe him from the start. Bo was too trusting for his own good. His mom used to drill into him the importance of being cautious. Now Bo had a killer vampire in his kitchen. He was such an idiot. Bo plunked into a chair.
Did Mr. Compton really want to kill him? Even after he promised to protect Bo? Not that he needed protection, Bo thought hastily. But things weren't adding up. His nerves were on fire. He accidentally dirtied the kitchen floor when he came in. The vampire he dragged in had accumulated soil and leaves from the backyard. It was not a pretty sight.
Movement. The undead villain was coming around, his broken nose and bruises healing quickly. It reminded Bo of himself, which scared him. Bo still refused to believe Mr. Compton was right. There had to be another explanation. He swallowed the anxiety in his stomach.
Metal bat by his side, Bo stiffened as the vampire tried to stretch. He hissed dramatically and glared at Bo, who just rolled his eyes. In the kitchen light, his assailant wasn't nearly as scary as he had seemed in the dark. From the way he rocked back and forth in the chair, Bo could almost think of him as human. This vampire was nothing like Mr. Compton.
Earlier Bo had wrapped a dozen silver necklaces around the bloodsucker's wrists and ankles. A rash was starting to develop on Bo's hands, but he paid little attention to it. Three hours had passed before the vampire stirred. Bo's ribs were still sore, but other than the bruising on his neck and upper torso, he was fine. Hopefully everything would be healed by morning.
Bo scooted his chair closer to the other male. He tightened his grip on the bat. "Who are you?"
"Jesus-fucking-Christ! What did you hit me with?" The vampire moaned. He looked him over. "What the heck are you?"
Bo brushed back his bangs, frustrated. "Answer the question, asshole."
"Ow, damn. It's Tim. Tim Mallery."
"Tim? Tim the vampire?" Bo asked incredulously. His supposed hit man was a vampire named Tim. Bo could no longer keep up a serious facade. "I thought it would be something more vampiric. Like Dracula."
"Fuck you. My mum gave me that name." Bo's mother would have washed the dirty language right out of Tim. Not that Bo was in any position to criticize.
"Let's move on." Bo said. "Who sent you?"
"Like I'm telling a human." Tim twisted his body away from him.
Bo stood. He lifted the softball bat up to the vampire's line of vision. "I really don't like hurting people unless I absolutely have to. But I can. Unless you want a second concussion, I suggest you talk."
The vampire looked scared for a second. Tim hesitated, and then replied. "Will you let me go, if I tell you?"
Bo positioned himself away from the vampire. He wasn't about to risk getting hit by another surprise attack. "That depends on what you have to say."
"Okay, okay." Tim relented. "It wasn't Bill. It was the Sheriff of Area Five."
"Sheriff? Area Five?" What was this? A Western?
"Long story." Tim said.
"Does he have a name?"
"Eric Northman. Big Viking guy. Can't miss him." An image of an ugly bearded brute with a cowboy hat and spurs came to Bo's mind. He swiftly banished the image.
"What's he got against me?" Bo asked.
"From what I scrounged up from his messenger and the others, I think it's because he liked your mom. The thought of another guy getting some T and A with her probably damaged his ego."
"So he's taking it out on me?" Bo asked. "How many vampire boyfriends did Mom have?"
"I only know of two." Tim the vampire winced. A sliver of smoke rose from his wrists. "Can you let me go now? My arse is going to be fried for not killing you. My maker's already fed up with me."
"I'm not surprised." Bo commented dryly.
His adrenaline rush had tempered over the course of the conversation. A pure blanket of anxiety took its place. Now not only did he have to worry about his mom's killers, but a big crazy asshole vamp, too? Maybe he shouldn't have come to Bon Temps.
If he had stayed in New York, things probably would have been different. He could have worked at his mother's old bar, perhaps done construction on the weekends. He might have even dated that one cute girl from math class, the one with the red hair and nice legs. Life would have been simpler.
Or not. Bo would have never known about his mother's killers or their desire to do him in as well. He remembered when he found her. The body had been burned beyond recognition. Only the necklace she always wore survived, untouched by the flames. She was cremated and lying in the funeral home for now. He could have ended up that way as well if he didn't leave when he did. Bo shook off the dark memory.
"Where can I find this Northman guy?" Bo finally said.
"You're not actually thinking of going after him are you?" Tim's mouth turned downward. He looked at Bo like he'd suddenly grown another head. "No offense, but even if you are—whatever the hell you are—you'd be crazy to go after a head honcho like that."
"Got any better ideas?" Bo stated.
"Playing dead?"
"Cute. Real cute." Bo sighed. He was starting to regret inviting Mr. Compton in. Somehow, he felt he was going to be facing the undead a lot more than he'd like to. He hoped most weren't like Tim. One cheeky vampire was enough for the world. "Just give me a location."
"Fangtasia. Shreveport." Bo's eyebrows could not go any higher.
"Fangtasia? Fang-Tasia? I got attacked by a vampire named Tim who works at Fangtasia?" Bo said in near disbelief. He couldn't decided which was more pathetic, the vampire's name or the ridiculously cheesy title for a bar.
"You guys are just natural-born comedians aren't you?" Bo commented.
"My shows are Tuesdays and Thursdays at 8 O'clock. Call in advance if you'd like a ticket." Tim retorted. Bo understood why his maker couldn't stand him. Tim was a suicidal vampire.
"Sorry. Third-rate stand-up just doesn't appeal to me."
Maybe in another universe they could have been friends, Bo thought to himself. As it was, Tim had given him enough information to go on for the moment. He set the bat on the kitchen counter. Honestly, Bo didn't know what to do. He never believed in his wildest dreams he would be able to fight off a vampire, and here he had one tied up in his kitchen.
But Bo couldn't just ignore the Viking. The guy had a grudge against him. He wouldn't stop until Bo was six feet under. He didn't see that he had many options. Attacking the vampire head on was suicide. Anyone could see that. Bo wasn't the sort of guy to kill someone, either. He had morals.
"Do they know what I look like?" Bo inquired.
"Nah. I was only given your address." Tim was eyeing the box of toaster strudel by the microwave. "I miss food."
"You're not very good at your job, are you?" Bo said.
"I was turned a year ago." The vampire admitted.
"That explains it. You spilled the beans pretty quickly."
"What can I say? I value my living death."
Bo arrived at an idea. A crazy idea. He pulled out his cellphone. Typing in the information, he came across a location. Good. Bo grasped the slugger again. He disappeared into the hall. Bo packed his gray backpack with the softball bat and some silver jewelry, just in case. Swiftly, he threw on a black shirt. The color was faded, but it would help him blend in, probably. He laced up his tennis shoes and pocketed the phone.
Entering back into the kitchen, he placed a bottle of blood into Tim's hands. The vampire gawked at him, perplexed.
"You…you are the nicest captor I've ever met. I'm almost sorry I was ordered to kill you." Tim said.
Bo was still angry at the bloodsucker. He wouldn't forgive the older teen for trying to murder him anytime soon. But he was his mother's child. Even if Tim was his would-be killer, no matter how bad he was at it, he couldn't very well leave him without something to drink. That would make him a bad host. Bo blocked out the fact his mom probably wouldn't have even invited the vampire inside in the first place. She would've known better.
"Gee, thanks." Bo responded with zero enjoyment. "I'm going out for a bit. I'm turning you over to Mr. Compton when I get back. Then I want both of you out of my life, for good."
Bo exited out the backdoor. He wanted to be as careful as possible. This was a surveillance mission, to see what he was up against. And maybe offer up a truce. He examined the map on his phone for a good number of minutes.
Then he vanished into the darkness.
