Title: Winter Solstice – New Year's Resolutions – Chapter 7
Author: Marianne H. Stillie
Categories: Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, POV
Rating: T
Pairing: Eric and Sookie
Sequel To: The Gift; Winter Solstice-The Wedding
Summary: Sometimes a honeymoon can be dangerous.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places for Southern Vampire Mysteries Sookie Stackhouse Novels are the property of Charlaine Harris, Ace Books, The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment, not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks are intended. Previously unrecognized characters, places and this story are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Archive: Please do not archive anywhere without the author's permission.
Copyright (c) 2010 Marianne H. Stillie
Author's Note: My deepest apologies for the lateness of this chapter. And how long it turned out to be. Eric's time in France needed to cover a great deal of back story and explanation of what's really going on in the vamp world. Chapter 8, which is already in first draft form, will be much shorter, posted much sooner and is much happier than this chapter.
Winter Solstice – New Year's Resolutions
Chapter 7
He'd seen enough human westerns and cop shows to know what he should do next. Slowly, Rasul raised his arms high into the air in surrender.
The Glock didn't waver at all. "I don't know who you're working for, and I really don't care. I suggest you back off from this private investigation of yours before you blow my cover, and get me killed."
Lacie's tone was so strong and straightforward, he sensed she'd had to use that tough attitude often in a law enforcement capacity. Keeping his arms where they were, he asked, "Are you working for a state agency or the Feds?"
"You first," she demanded.
"I'm the personal bodyguard to Eric Northman, vampire sheriff of Area Five here in northern Louisiana. The company you're investigating is complicit in a plot to assassinate him."
Her small-boned body moved into a less aggressive stance. The pistol in her very steady hands remained pointed at his chest. "Then we have the same goal, Mr. Halim. Your amateur sleuthing is putting our investigation in jeopardy so we'd appreciate it if you left the matter to the professionals."
"Your credentials?" he asked coolly.
This time Lacie Chen dropped her arms slowly to her sides. "I'm part of a special FBI unit attached to the Department of Justice. Our task force is involved with national and international vampire matters along with the CIA."
"Very impressive." Noting the more relaxed set of her expression, Rasul suggested, "Perhaps we can be of assistance to each other." When she didn't protest, he pressed further, "I know an excellent Szechuan restaurant. We could talk further over dinner?"
The beautiful dark eyes grew softer. "I'm allergic to Chinese food, and it's not the msg."
Rasul knew he had her interest without any need for a glamour. "Italian, perhaps? Angelo's Ristorante in Bossier City is known for its veal piccata. Paper thin sautéed slices of milk-fed veal with an exquisite sauce of lemon, white wine, shallots and butter." With his fingers, he blew a kiss into the air.
"How would a blood drinking vampire know that?" she asked with a wisp of a smile.
"I have many human friends," he answered simply.
This time her smile was open and teasing. "All women, I'll bet."
As he opened the front door of the empty house for her, Rasul couldn't help a self-congratulatory grin. His sexy charm had won again. Even better, he felt sure this very feisty Federal agent was going to keep him on his toes as they got to know each other, professionally, and personally.
The pilot gave a condensed weather report for the passengers as my plane approached Denver International Airport that the temperature had warmed to a balmy twenty-nine degrees. Luckily, I had all my snuggies from my Vancouver honeymoon. I was very glad I'd worn multiple layers of them.
I was also glad I'd had those quiet hours on the plane to think of Eric. The last time we were separated by miles and time zones, at least we were on the same continent. This Europe thing was scary in so many ways.
I'd spent the daylight hours yesterday packing, and sorting through the thirty-seven resumes I'd been given so I would be prepared to begin setting up interviews once I got here. As soon as Eric woke, we were glued together, physically, mentally and emotionally. It came so naturally now, we didn't have to will it in any way. I knew I'd be in Denver only until Saturday. Eric had no idea how long his meeting in France would take. I hoped I wouldn't have to use all his T-shirts. That's why our bond was especially intense. We would need that closeness to sustain us during our separation.
The equally intense talking had picked up where we'd left off at dawn when Eric had gone into his day sleep. My questions rolled out of my mouth like a giant tsunami. My beloved never faltered or refused to answer. His life before me and the entire history of the vampire race were, at last, truly mine to share. Hearing all the details behind his long buried secret, I understood where his loss of control New Year's Eve night had come from.
I'd always known how dangerous Eric could be. I'd seen him in a blood lust rage that night on the highway after my dinner with Niall when that guy had tried to kill me. I'd have been pretty stupid to ignore the reality of how violent his past as a thousand year old vampire had been, heavily laced with all the stereotypical evil that made up the legend and mythos. Once I made my commitment to him, I'd consigned all of it to either necessity or his past that was no longer actively a part of his vampire existence. Knowing the truth now, that he had also been a high ranking assassin for the European Consortium, was another part of what made him the man I loved in this day and time. I know how crazy it sounded, but our blood bond didn't lie about the person I knew my mate to be.
After he'd finished his packing, we made love one last time. The one last time did turn into multiple chapters. Even though I was drained from our repeated lovemaking, I slept fitfully, worried as hell about what was waiting for Eric in France. Meanwhile he made final phone calls regarding his businesses and my security.
I was awake at dawn just after he'd gone into his travel coffin. I'd had to rely on Bobby to supervise the Anubis pickup later in the morning. Before I left for my early flight, I stood beside the grey metal container that still gave me the willies. Recalling the vivid images I'd seen from Eric's sleeping mind during the weeks after the Fae War, but before I'd broken my silence to him, I touched the cool metal with my warm hand and willed my husband to dream while he slept, today and each day we would be apart. I hoped with my newly discovered supernatural power, I would again be able to access his dreams. Throughout my flight, I'd concentrated on him, but there was nothing. He was deeply asleep during his long flight. I had actually been relieved that he was sleeping so soundly. Looking at my watch, I counted the seven hours until I would be able to hear his voice again.
As I walked down the terminal concourse toward the baggage claim area, I mentally switched gears. Along with my job that I was being very well paid to do, there was the challenge of repairing and rerouting my old relationship with Quinn. I wasn't surprised to see him standing underneath the sign where my flight's passengers were congregating to pick up their luggage.
I stopped directly in front of him. As always, his tangled shifter brain was a puzzle. Those pansy purple eyes with their dark depths said far more about his true feelings for me as they devoured my face.
His voice was deep but the words came out almost shyly. "I'm not sure what to call you. Babe is far too intimate for where we are now. Mrs. Northman is too cold and formal."
"It's Sookie, and always will be to you." Smiling, I added, "It's good to see you again, Quinn."
With a sure decision, I hugged my former lover "hello". He returned the embrace, but very carefully. Despite all the hurt and disappointment in the past, I truthfully admitted that if there were no Eric, Quinn's arms would be the ones in my life.
The small Anubis Air jet taxied to a stop in front of a private hanger away from the public area of Perpignan airport. Being on European soil for the first time in sixty-two years, I reconfirmed the decision I had made two nights ago in Sookie's arms. The time had come to face the last of my Old World demons and put it to rest. I felt a wonderful sense of relief, a release from a ghost I had thought long subdued and banished.
A wizened septuagenarian came up to me as I stepped off the plane.
"Monsieur Northman?"
"Oui."
Holding up a car remote on a gold keychain, he said in French, "For you from Monsieur Bellerie," then pointed to a red Bentley Continental GTC convertible parked outside the hanger.
"Merci," I said taking the keychain. As the pleasant little man walked away, I picked up my 29-inch piece of luggage and headed for the vehicle. I had packed heavily, not knowing how long I would be away. The overstuffed suitcase just fit in the trunk.
Slipping into the driver's seat, I drew in the scent of the new leather in the luxuriously appointed interior. My mentor had remained faithful to his decades old choice of automobile. I wondered what newer vehicles he had added to his vintage car collection since I last saw him.
I would have been more comfortable if I had worn my casual T-shirt and jeans instead of the Louis Vuitton charcoal wool suit, bespoken navy shirt and coordinated navy and white striped tie. Another of my mentor's quirks was his old-fashioned dress code so I was attired formally out of respect for him. The one line I had drawn was my refusal to wear black. It was the required uniform at Fangtasia, what the humans expected a vampire to look like. It was not, however, who I dressed to please in my personal life.
The key caught and the engine engaged with a powerful vibration. In seconds I had accelerated to 100 kilometers, my dress shoe clad foot pressing firmly on the gas pedal to carry me away from the airfield. As the speedometer inched higher, I smiled gratefully that my mentor had remembered how much I enjoyed the thrill of speed.
My loose hair whipped behind me as I raced through the Mediterranean influenced cool night air under a starlit sky. It was an invigorating combination as I headed toward my mentor's estate that he had named Marie Claire for an undisclosed reason when he had settled the land centuries ago.
Once outside of the city limits, the roads around the vineyards were as familiar to me as the ones at home. In the depth of the darkness, I felt many old memories stir to life. I had been away from the Continent for so many decades. Yet the beauty of this Old World still affected me. I had been born here. My first wife and children, though long turned to dust, were here. All that I was now in my immortality had been forged here.
Despite all that personal history, I had stayed away for one painful reason. If my mentor, Gaston Bellerie, hadn't summoned me, I would have continued my self-imposed exile. That wasn't his real name, and he wasn't French. Only he knew his true origin. But after 3,285 years of immortality, it no longer mattered. He, and now Sookie, knew why I had willingly abandoned my old life.
Gaston was the epitome of nurture taming nature in a vampire. He was the oldest that we knew of anywhere. Ocella and Godfrey had been a paltry two millenniums, and they were both dead. He had taught me that the innate compulsions that had altered my original human behavior at the time of my turning were actually malleable. I could choose how to live my vampire existence.
Once free of Ocella, and with Gaston's encouragement and support, I had chosen to reclaim who I had been as a human, a warrior and a lover. There were times over the centuries when I had given in to the corruption and evil of my kind. It had been a harsh struggle to go against that turned nature, but I found the balance again each time.
The majority of old vampires I had known over the centuries had been so jaded with living, I wondered why they had continued their existence. Most had met their final death by one means or another over time. The rare old ones left had continued to search in hopes of "feeling" something again. There was still the hunt and the conquest for them. Others were simply too afraid of what lay in true death.
Again, Gaston had taught me to look beyond the tedium of survival, the hiding from humans and from daylight. This new human era that had started with the discovery of what they had named the New World and escalated with their Industrial Revolution had given me so many opportunities to grow, experience and enjoy life. The European world with all its flaws had become revitalized. The exciting avenues of discovery, of forward thinking innovation I had taken advantage of as the human world advanced and modernized still amazed me. Integrating human practices into my vampire traditions opened a dual world of adventure and monetary success. Sadly, the scientific and technological advances had also given said humans more devastating ways of destroying each other, and us.
To the good in this new millennium, that same technology and science had given my race the synthetic blood that finally freed us to make ourselves known. Despite all the unique problems our coming out of hiding had created, we had gained so much. The best of them for me was that I was now settled into an acceptable relationship with a human woman I adored beyond words.
My heavy foot and the powerful engine had made the miles seem like inches. The imposing thirty-room country house loomed invitingly in the darkness, lights blazing from every ground floor window. A spectacular light show illuminated the grounds, reminding me of the excess of holiday decorating the humans did at their Christmas season. Turning onto the paved road that led to the main house, I slowed. My old memories and the fresh perceptions my eyes were taking in wanted time to assimilate the changes I was seeing.
I parked in front of the elaborate stone staircase and stepped out of the car. An adolescent human male hurried down the steps, bowed from the waist and took the key. In a rush of French, he told me he would deliver my luggage to my room, and that my mentor was waiting in the library. The servant sped away in the GTC, gears grinding noisily, down the left side road I knew led to the garages.
Glancing around, I saw that Gaston had done some refurbishing in the front gardens over the years. I chuckled that the hideous topiary tree sculptures I had always hated were gone, replaced by various specimen trees, shrubs and flowerbeds. My smaller scale gardens on my Shreveport property paled in comparison. The overall look had an Oriental feel to it that I found quite pleasant.
The Italian Renaissance fountain that had been hit by a stray American bomb just before the Southern France invasion had never been replaced. The center courtyard had been integrated into the redesigned garden giving the house a true country look rather than the stylized chateau of the past. I was eager to see the back of the house, wondering what fresh creative beauty Gaston had experimented with there.
Looking up at the darkened second floor, I noticed that the balcony railings that wrapped around the four corner windows of what had been my suite of rooms on the left had a new look. Gaston's identical balcony around his suite on the right was a perfect match to mine. I couldn't help a light laugh. After all this time, I still felt possessive about this beautiful place.
The tall, graceful windows and strategically placed French doors throughout the house looked naked without the heavy oak shutters that had been used to darken all the rooms during daylight. I was sure I would find a more than adequate version of a modern light-blocking interior treatment similar to what I had installed at home.
My eyes went back to the wraparound balcony encircling my windows. Until this moment, I had not realized how relieved I was that Gaston had not set our meeting at his townhouse in Paris. That old building held far too many traumatic memories for me. It was where Ocella had brought me, after dragging me with him across the European continent for over a decade, to show me off to his fellow vampires at a party on Halloween night. As if it were only yesterday, my body stung with the remembered pain of abuse and agonizing hunger that engulfed me that night as it had every night for the years I had been kept by my maker.
I forced those memories away as I went up the well-worn stone steps. This place had been my refuge even before it had existed as a building. At the elaborately carved front door, I raised my hand to the ornate brass unicorn head knocker I had purchased from a local artisan centuries ago. The door opened to my knock, and a grandmotherly grey-haired woman with sharp hazel eyes and a huge welcoming smile greeted me. I returned the smile and entered the foyer. As I stepped across the threshold, I walked into another time and knew I was safely home again.
Standing at the center of the spacious tiled foyer, I scanned left to right, refreshing my mind as to the placement of the ground floor rooms. Along with the names of the numerous rooms, formal dining room, ballroom, music room, library, game room, kitchen among them, a flood of old memories assailed me again. As the power and influence of the Consortium had grown, so had the events this house had hosted. Humans as well as vampires had mingled freely and lavishly, and Gaston had been the fulcrum of it all.
I looked up the grand staircase. The highly polished dark wood banister gleamed as perfectly as I remembered it. My curiosity to see my suite of rooms pricked at me then I reined it in. I was here on very serious business that took precedent over a social visit. With an inner shake of my head, I suppressed my nostalgic urge.
At another exquisitely carved wooden door, I knocked firmly. Gaston's powerful voice responded clearly from the other side, and I opened the door. Waves of heat from the heavily stoked marble fireplace reached through the air that smelled of very old leather-bound books and smoky spices. I stopped in front of the Queen Anne wingback chair my mentor was enthroned on at the center of the room.
I bowed deeply from the waist then looked into his deep-set almond shaped eyes that were watching me closely from under his thick eyebrows that almost merged above his broad nose. "I would politely state that you look very well after all these years, Gaston. Of course, since you are vampire, it is a foolish human comment."
His little smile that barely registered on his wide slash of full lips told me he understood my attempt at vampire humor. "It is true that we do not age. But the weight of immortality rests more heavily on some." In an eye blink, strong, ancient arms embraced me tightly and said, "I have missed you, my Eric."
The pull from the unusual blood bond Gaston and I had formed all those centuries ago was revived in our embrace. I felt our old closeness of parent and child reemerge, overcoming our long separation. I returned the embrace freely, holding my mentor's shorter but very powerful body close for several more moments.
Gaston broke the hold with a joyous laugh that reverberated through my body as well as echoing in my ears. Pointing to the second richly upholstered wing chair that was placed opposite to his with a low serving table in between, Gaston said, "Please, sit. You must be hungry after your long flight."
"A TrueBlood would be appreciated."
"I can provide more appropriate human refreshment," he said casually.
"I feed only from my wife."
With a flash of surprise, he responded, "Ah, a truly faithful mate."
"In every way," I stated proudly.
With a deeper smile, Gaston reached for the intercom on the end table beside his chair. In French, he ordered my TrueBlood and a drink for himself from the kitchen staff person who had answered his call.
While he talked, I couldn't help admiring the impeccably tailored outfit my mentor had chosen to wear for our reunion. The ruby red velvet smoking jacket combined with his vividly expressive milk chocolate brown eyes created an air of timelessness around him. The white linen shirt, ruffled at the open neckline, showed a swatch of his dark, curly chest hair. The equally ruffled cuffs spilling out of the armholes gave him the appearance of a rakish dandy as he sat back in the elegant antique chair, one leg carefully crossed over the other. Black velvet trousers and patent leather slip-ons without socks completed his outfit. He looked like the perfect country gentleman. Suppressing a laugh at my grandiose imagery, I recalled that I had seen Gaston fight in combat too many times to be truly fooled by his benign outward appearance.
On the end table beside the intercom box, a large amber glass ashtray was half filled with stubs of his custom made cheroots that he had been smoking since the late eighteenth century. They were the source of the pungent blend of cinnamon, clove, nutmeg and ginger I had noticed on entering the room.
His conversation ended, he turned to me. In Italian, he asked, "Which language do you prefer nowadays, Viking? You have learned so many. I am sure it is not the dead old Latin of that traitorous animal who sired you."
Gaston's usually fleeting accent that I had never been able to place other than it was Indo European in origin was heavily noticeable. His centuries old hatred of my maker came through clearly in his words, and didn't surprise me. That he had used the word "traitorous" confirmed a suspicion of mine.
Staying with the language I had adopted more than half a century ago, I answered, "American English is what I am most comfortable with in my daily life. The colloquialisms and slang are both funny and challenging. My woman has found my usages quite amusing on occasion. My child Pam and I converse in Old Norse when privacy between us is required. The times Alec and I have met since I settled in North America, we always revert to the Gaelic he had taught me during our travels after the Third Crusade."
"How is your eldest child, the priest?"
"Still in Toronto. Pam is there on vacation."
"After a century apart, they reunited when you sent her to safety in the United States after the Blitz?"
"Even for vampires, love and fidelity are powerful emotions."
This time Gaston laughed. "While you always preferred the human women. I remember all those nights of raucous pleasure here in this house. Your endless stream of ménage a trios partners."
"I was making up for lost time with their blood and their bodies."
"And healing the damage you had hidden for so long."
"The last of that disappeared when I found Sookie. Along with my body and my heart,
she has my blood. All my physical unions before her were purely sex play and held no emotional bond of any kind."
"And your soul?"
"If I have one, it is also hers. Alec believes we still possess them."
"Still hanging on to his priestly humanity, I see."
This time I laughed, knowing that the implied cynicism was only a front. After I had brought Alec here to become fully oriented to his new vampire state, a confrontational friendship had developed between my first child and my adopted sire. Gaston appeared to be approximately forty human years when he had been turned. He could easily have been my human sire. Since he had no living vampire children, he had expropriated my vampire child into our immortal family. Their regular religious and philosophical debates had often become contentious disagreements, quite loud, vehement, and for them enjoyable.
There was a short knock on the door signaling the arrival of our refreshments.
"Entree," Gaston called.
The smiling, hazel-eyed woman who had greeted me at the front door entered with a small tray containing my bottle of TrueBlood, a heavily etched crystal goblet and a large brandy snifter half-filled with a bitingly aromatic cognac I could smell.
After the woman put the tray on the low table, she bent close to Gaston's ear and whispered in French, "Your son is still as beautifully handsome as he was when he left us."
I was startled at the woman's compliment, but the warmth of her words made me respond, also in French, "Thank you, madam. Your smile when I arrived and your kind words make me feel very welcome."
Her hand quickly covered her mouth in embarrassment while a heavy flush crept into her cheeks. "Your pardon, master Eric," she mumbled in Frenchand rushed out the door closing it firmly behind her.
Gaston's soft, indulgent laugh was a surprise. "She has been flustered with anticipation that you were returning for a visit." At my puzzled expression, he explained, "You don't remember the toe-headed little angel who used to follow you around at every opportunity? Genevieve was inconsolable for months after you left."
The memory of the sweet little eight-year old girl who had had an obvious crush on me so long ago was touching to my revived human perception. Back then it had been more than annoying.
"She married a local boy who became my master vintner in time. Her eldest son is named Eric. Of the long line of housekeepers who have served me, she is the one I have come to care for the most."
"You have always inspired intense loyalty from the families who have lived here over the centuries." Unable to avoid some very honest vampiric thoughts, I admitted, "If I had stayed, I am sure she would have become one of my bedmates when she matured."
With a knowing nod, Gaston reached over, poured a hearty splash of TrueBlood into the goblet, handed it to me then lifted his glass of cognac. "To past good times and to the numerous ones still to come."
We clinked glasses and took generous swallows. "Is that cognac one of your own creations?" I asked curiously. My mentor had his own distillery in the cavernous basement along with the vast buildings that were part of the vineyard proper. He was known for his genius experimentation with his land's bounty.
"Of course. I still control every aspect of quality and variety that comes from this vineyard."
I snickered quietly. Though Western Europe as a whole had now fully accepted our emergence thanks primarily to the vast wealth my race had accumulated, there were still pockets of secrecy to be maintained. If the world at large knew that one of the premier French wineries was owned and controlled by a vampire, they would be stunned.
"You have always preferred absinthe for as long as I have known you, Gaston. Why the change?"
He snorted loudly. "Now that the wormwood beverage is legal, its consumption no longer thrills me. Anything alcoholic suffices to pleasure me along with these," and he took one of his cheroots out of the intricately tooled leather case on the end table, lit it with a tortoiseshell inlaid lighter and inhaled deeply. "My vices have mellowed or expanded, depending on your perception, my son. But they are ongoing."
Vampires who smoked and drank were rare. At Gaston's age, since he required so little blood to survive, he was more than entitled to his little foibles. I couldn't help laughing at the religious-based reference, however. "Perhaps if I achieve your advanced age, I will take up one or more of your vices."
"If you achieve my advanced age?" he asked with a frown.
The banter my adopted father and I had engaged in suddenly became heavy with the reality of the vampire business that had brought me here. My profound silence was broken by Gaston's pointed change of subject.
"I have heard so much about your beautiful and gifted human woman who has stolen your heart. She is also part fae great-granddaughter to our old adversary Niall Brigant. What an amazing combination she is. Would you have a photograph to share?"
Extracting my wallet from the inside pocket of my jacket, I said, "I have several." Choosing the one I liked best, I took it out of the plastic holder and handed it to him. "This was taken the evening of our human wedding."
Gaston's warm eyes seemed to be devouring the image on the small piece of paper. "So very beautiful together. I am overjoyed that you are no longer alone." Looking directly at me, he said, "I was right to give you to Sophie-Anne."
Arching an eyebrow sharply, I asked, "How did you give me to Sophie-Anne?"
"By intentionally losing a game of chemin de fer."
"It is impossible to cheat at baccarat," I stated adamantly.
In answer, Gaston raised his bushy, almost-black eyebrows at me. "When she and Andre visited soon after the war ended, she told me she was looking for a capable, experienced vampire manager for the largest area of her territory. I knew she would never ask for you outright since I had made it very clear to everyone that I had groomed you to replace me as Consul General when I finally retired. I also knew you needed to get away from here."
I couldn't speak for several minutes. "So you wagered me and lost."
Again, a change of subject ended another weighty silence. "Does your mate know what you suffered those years with Ocella?"
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I let that part of my past come to the surface. "Not the day by day graphic details. I have let her feel all the old pain and despair through our blood bond so the ugly words weren't necessary." I felt Gaston reach out with his comforting compassion and love, and was able to continue. "I have told her how you broke Ocella's stranglehold on me. That you took me in, and fed me your own blood to nourish my nearly starved body and heal me of the humiliation and degradation he had subjected me to for all those years."
My voice stronger, I moved on to what I considered the true beginning of my life as a vampire. "I explained that when I was recovered enough to travel, you packed up a horse-drawn wagon with tools and took me with you to this land that you had chosen to settle on away from Paris. The work was hard that first day, cutting down trees and digging an underground hiding place for us to shelter in before the sun came up again. You continued to feed me your blood each night until I was a truly strong and healthy vampire. Most of all, you made me feel safe and worthwhile as a man again."
"What has her reaction been to all this?" he asked gently.
With complete confidence in my adopted sire's understanding, I concluded, "She loves me even more because of what I have overcome. I have given my beloved, whom I trust implicitly, our complete personal history and that of our race. She has become so fully accepting of our place on this earth and our organization and involvement in human events she has agreed that when the time is right she will become one of us so we can share eternity."
The weight of Gaston's swirling emotions made me wait out his thoughtful silence. Grimly, he asked, "Ocella is dead, correct?"
"Why do you ask?" Even from this man who was so close to me, I felt the need to protect my younger child from any possibility of vampire justice.
"The rogue assassin in Vancouver was one of his spawn. He was hired by an unknown party but his personal hatred toward you spurred his actions even further."
"That is why I felt a familiar presence. Are there more of my siblings around?"
"Possibly. As if treason weren't enough, the conspirators and their rogue allies have added an additional sin to their list: an organized program of vampire procreation to swell their ranks."
I was surprised at Gaston's second religious reference. It was true that he had been in the thick of the church/state conflicts of the Middle Ages. He had been the prime mover in creating our organization that had brought order out of the human barbarism that surrounded us through civility and rules of behavior for our race. Having a former priest as his first "grandchild" had been more than an avenue of academic debate.
"I have hesitated to bring up this last subject but it must be dealt with before we can go into the real reason for this meeting." At my accepting nod, he continued, "Since you have been totally open with your mate, I presume she knows the truth of why you left Europe."
"My last assignment for the Consortium and the murders I committed," I said resignedly.
"Despite your Viking heritage, you have never been senselessly violent, Eric. That was never your way, as a human or as a vampire. Justinian and his vampire woman deserved to die. They had been judged and sentenced according to our laws."
The shadowy memories took hold of me as soon as the words were spoken. The bloody vampire battle with my two targets had left me so damaged and weak, I had lost all control that night despite my victory. "The human woman and her child were innocents. I am guilty of their murders."
"Yes, you are."
I was stunned at Gaston's honest agreement then nonplussed by his questions that followed. "What do you feel would have been a proper punishment for you? Would the biblical justice of an eye for an eye have been sufficient?"
"Yes."
One of those otherworldly expressions I remembered so clearly suffused Gaston's face. His unfocused eyes moved rapidly while his body was frozen in place. Though not my true sire, I had had enough of his blood to feel this internal change in him. It had created such a unique tie between us that we could read each other's emotions at will. His voice became hard, "Your death would have condemned many who live now to premature deaths, humans and supernaturals."
Stealing myself for his answer, I asked, "Who would be dead?"
"Both your vampire children, all the Area Five people, dozens of vampires, Weres, shifters, even fairies, including your beloved Sookie. All because you were not there to protect them."
"Is this one of your visions of the past?"
"Yes."
My mentor's gift for prophecy was complex and frustratingly limited. It provided only alternate images of the past. He had never been able to foresee the future. "I wish you could see into my future this time."
"A gift of prophecy is not needed to know that without you countless supernaturals as well as humans will perish if you do not lead this fight. I can assure you that you will not die, my Eric. Your beloved and your children will need you in the years ahead."
I felt the urge to rage at my destiny that had put me in this untenable position. The current crisis had pulled me back to my old life with its stigma of imprimatured assassin. I had become an out-of-control murderer then. The struggle to come back had taken many months. Trust in myself, in my recovery, had taken much longer. After what I had done to Sookie New Year's Eve night, I feared it would happen again.
There was also an added element haunting me. I had never hesitated to engage in a fight or a major battle, always sure that my abilities and cunning would prevail. Before I had only my immortality to lose. Now my life encompassed so much more.
"You have given me only bits and pieces of information, Gaston, but no real reason other than an obvious internal power struggle." And I needed a reason, other than just vampire politics, to risk everything.
Sitting forward in his chair, the ancient vampire became transformed. He was again the all-powerful Consul General, nostrils flaring, chin jutting, broad shoulders set aggressively under his tight, wavy, shoulder-length almost-black hair. In the too familiar deadly timbre of his powerful voice that had made the likes of Ocella and Sophie-Anne cringe, Gaston asked, "What shall we discuss first, my Eric? Victor Madden? The contract that is in play to end your existence? Or the conspiracy of traitors and rogue vampires determined to bring down our established political structure?"
I met his dominance with my own self-assurance. "All of those and why you brought me here?"
Leaning back again, his voice moderated greatly. "Then I will start with the bottom line objective to all this mayhem. The ultimate goal of all this destabilization, which they know will take decades, is to gain full domination over the human race. In their estimation, the Great Revelation was a betrayal of our heritage as a superior race. Those of us who currently rule are being far too cooperative and sharing with the humans, giving away too much accumulated vampire wealth. Vampires like you and myself are to be eliminated."
My anger held sway for a moment then became something else. I asked the question that would make me the designated leader I could not walk away from. "Other than Victor in my country, who are the ringleaders in each part of the world?"
With an accepting nod, he answered, his flow of emotions filled with pride, relief and hope, "Victor is actually primary in most of the Americas. Gideon Forrester in Canada is Alec's target. You will learn who the other traitors are and who their counterparts are on our side when you delve into the computer system I have had set up in my office which will now be yours. I also had a laptop installed in your sitting room upstairs for your convenience."
Keeping the bitter sarcasm under control, I joked, "It is too bad we cannot return to the old ways of simple assassination. I was very good at that for centuries. In today's world, killing them outright would be like hacking individual heads from a hydra. More would quickly take their places."
"Your instincts are impeccable, Viking, which is why you are the ideal leader for this battle that is just as much of wits as it is of brute force."
"I really do not have a choice."
"No, and I regret that. Circumstances are working against our very survival. You are the leader we need to crush Victor, his allies and the entire rogue army."
I couldn't help a very harsh laugh. "In other words, we are risking our immortal lives to save the human race's asses."
"Do you object to that?" he asked with a neutral inflection in his voice.
"As a vampire, I should, but I do not. Despite all the human haters, their race does not deserve to be enslaved. My wife is the perfect example of why humans need to survive. Without her, my life would be empty."
"In my long existence, I have heard only one other vampire profess such a love for a human," he said wistfully.
"You?" I asked respectfully. Over the centuries, I knew Gaston had many human women as lovers. Yet, in the first decades of the twentieth century, there had been none. His natural vampire lusts, for blood and for sex, had become impaired by too many wars and revolutions.
Gaston's wise, calm eyes took on an unexpected look of sadness. "Alas, I was never so fortunate." He went to one knee beside my chair on the antique Oriental rug, and placed his broad, muscular hands on my shoulders. I could feel the warmth of his fatherly empathy through my deeply troubled thoughts. "You should rest and reflect on everything I have told you before you begin actively working. I have left your rooms exactly as they were, including your antique sleigh bed. The bedding and linens are all new, of course."
I couldn't help a smile at the pure caring and goodness of my adopted sire. "After all the changes I noticed outside, I thought you would have redecorated the entire house."
"I prefer my comfortable old possessions, adding only select artwork to my existing collections as contemporary culture has changed. Just as you used to do in your travels. Do you still have the tansu chest I sent over with your other possessions?"
"It graces my bedroom at home. Sookie uses it for her growing wardrobe of feminine finery." Gaston stood and I followed. "Have you changed the gardens at the back of the house as you have the front, my father?"
Glowing with pride and happiness, he answered, "Oh, yes. I have had an in-ground pool installed as well. It is fully enclosed and heated so I can indulge myself even on the coldest winter evening. I am sure I can find a swimsuit for you. Or would you prefer au natural, my son?"
Despite the grim days ahead, we laughed freely as we went out to the foyer and up the main staircase to our respective suites.
After unpacking and changing into more comfortable jeans, T-shirt and sneakers, I was given a detailed tour of the expanded back gardens and their rows of greenhouses. The staid designs of the past had been transformed into pockets of international flora displays, Gaston explained. Of course, at this time of winter in both the back and front gardens, the trees were leafless and the flowerbeds barren. I did enjoy my adopted sire's horticultural knowledge and enthusiasm that was another of his vast interests. If ever a vampire could be honored with the description of Renaissance man, it was he.
With apologies, I begged off his request to join him in the Olympic-sized pool, wishing to go for a walk around the estate instead. Sensing my need for contemplative solitude, he went ahead with his nightly exercise routine of laps in the bathhouse pool, its daylight sealed glass panels uncovered to the night sky. He invited me to stop by later if I felt the need of a good soak in the luxuriously equipped spa he had recently added.
My simple walk turned into a very long journey, many miles away at the center of a winter dormant grapevine field. Like the Marie Claire gardens, they were silent, patiently waiting for spring.
Even though I had used a normal human pace to reach the spot, I was not tired in any way. The sweet smell of the rich earth drifted around me on the wind, and I breathed in greedily.
In the peaceful night, I spoke openly to Sookie, hoping she would hear me as she had that night on the mountain. Her clear, soothing response was strong and beautiful to my hungry heart. I knew the good feelings were more than simply my own mind directing me. As the minutes slipped by, I felt calm and invigorated, with a powerful need to begin my work. My return to the house was a swift, eager vampire run.
The E(E)E/SE office on the twelfth floor of a 17th street district office building was relatively small. What saved it from being totally nondescript (I'd snuck a peek at the calendar page for this date before I left for the airport) was how tastefully it had been decorated. The Western motif featured prints and artwork by a mixture of Native American artists that gave the five compact rooms a decidedly outdoor feel. The Frederic Remington bronze of a rider on a bucking bronco on the low bookcase in the former branch manager's office where I had been ensconced (tomorrow's Word of the Day), told me the guy had been more the cowboy type.
Leaning back in the Staples deluxe model executive chair, I watched the gently falling sheet of snow dance through the lights of the business district. Darkness had fallen thickly, so I knew it was well past the normal quitting time.
It had been a hectic day here in Denver, but I'd been able to sense Eric as soon as he'd come awake an ocean away. We hadn't been sure how far the blood bond would reach even enhanced by my new supe power. Just in case our bond did reach that far, Eric had warned me and reassured me in that oh so pragmatic way of his so I wouldn't freak when I felt the underlying disquiet of all the unknowns he was facing which would be very real to me as his blood-bonded mate. I'd felt the clash and collision of his emotions as the hours had gone by. The negative undercurrents had come in unpredictable waves. I was very anxious to get to my hotel room so I could fully open myself to him in my mind and on the phone.
Turning toward the door, I smiled as Carol Reynolds, the office manager, came in.
"Here's your interview schedule for tomorrow, Sookie."
"Thanks, Carol." After reviewing her precisely organized list, I looked at her again. I couldn't help staring at the delicate necklace she wore. "That's a dreamcatcher you're wearing, isn't it?"
Fingering the gold chain and intricate piece of jewelry, she answered, "My husband gave it to me for my last birthday."
"It's lovely. I'd like to get one before I leave Denver. The story behind it has personal meaning to me."
"The shop isn't far from here. We could go over there at lunchtime tomorrow. I did leave time for you to have lunch," she laughed.
"I noticed, and yes, we'll do some shopping then. As for tonight, I've already kept you way past your quitting time. Go on home."
"Good night."
As if on cue, Quinn came into the outer office just as Carol exited. Despite how very married to Eric I was, my heart skipped a little beat at the very different image John Quinn projected as he stood in the middle of my small office. He looked the pure westerner I knew he had originally been but had never seen. The tan fleece-lined sheepskin jacket made his already massive shoulders even broader. The simple matching cowboy hat was the finishing touch to this alternate persona. With the glistening snowflakes melting into pinpoints of water, he removed the jacket and hat and hung them on the totem pole coat rack to the right of the doorway. I smiled at the very shiny shaved head.
With a deep intake and exhale of breath, he dropped into the leather armchair in front of the desk. "This is the first day I've been able to get out and do some real SE work in weeks. Thanks for being here, Sookie."
"You're welcome, Quinn. How did your day go?"
"Potentially, very profitable. I have strong prospects or signed contracts for six weddings, two Were rites of passage, two shifter christenings, a turning ceremony, a rebirth emergence, an ashes internment, and the local Wiccan coven is considering an equinox celebration. It should keep me busy into spring."
"Sounds exciting. You have some supernatural celebrations I've never heard of back in Louisiana."
Quinn grinned. "We westerners have always been innovative. Our ancestors were smart enough to give women the vote. Now that we're all out of our respective closets, we want to show that we're just like everyone else. Marriages, births, deaths. The happy and the sad."
"Like the ashes internment?"
"A vamp was murdered by a nestmate. Very sad, but it happens. His other nestmates want a public place where he can be laid to rest and remembered. The vampire trial is scheduled for next month. I'm handling the arrangements." Sitting forward in the chair, he added, "I can give you details of SE's other new offerings over dinner."
"Thanks, but I really want to get settled at my hotel. I promised Eric I'd call him tonight."
Quinn's animated expression went back to the cautious, impersonal look he'd had on his face since he picked me up at the airport. I understood, but it was sad all the same.
"So, how was your day, Sookie?"
"Pretty calm, actually. Tomorrow's the real test. I find out how good I am at interviewing people."
"Isn't that why they hired you, for that special gift of yours? You're respected and trusted by all the diverse supernatural factions. Your ability to read human minds gives all of us an extra layer of security against the haters."
I laughed lightly thinking of the conversation I'd had with my husband when I'd expressed my doubts and fears to him about the job. "Eric agrees and would do the same. He wants to keep me safe but he won't deny other supes my skills. I just hope I don't run out of steam over the next three months visiting field offices, resolving problems and settling disputes."
Quinn smiled in that totally sincere way I remembered. "You'll do fine." He looked at his watch. "It's late and I need to get going too. I promised Frannie dinner from her favorite Mexican restaurant's take out menu one night this week. You have a reservation at the Pedestrian Mall Sheraton. I'll drop you off."
"You live in Denver with your sister?"
"Just outside in the Lakewood suburb. It's Max's house actually."
"How is Frannie doing?"
"Much better, now that I'm around regularly."
"And your mother?"
"Heavily medicated." The tight set of his mouth said more than his words.
Crossing to the coat rack, he took down his hat and coat along with my navy blue overcoat. I stood in front of him, looking deeply into his shielded eyes.
Helping me into my coat, he said, "I'll be out of state on the road all day tomorrow. Won't be back in Denver until Friday."
Quinn's warm hands hesitated briefly on my shoulders then he pulled away.
"Why don't we plan on lunch then?" I asked.
This time his smile was fragile but I could feel his tangled mind relax a little. "I'd like that. You can fill me in on the interviews."
"Of course. You'll be the one working with the person, so the final decision is yours."
With buttoned coats and covered heads, we locked the office and headed for the elevator.
"There are five really good prospects. One in particular would be perfect for this job. I'm keeping my fingers crossed about her," I babbled, feeling my body's physical agitation accelerate. My impatience to be away from this public place was getting thicker as the minutes ticked by. "I should be done by Friday so I can head home to Shreveport on Saturday."
The elevator dinged to a stop. I felt Quinn's hand at the small of my back as I stepped into the waiting car. The familiar warmth he radiated beside me was nice, but all I wanted was to get to my hotel room. Hearing my Viking's voice again had become an overwhelming need that no amount of past nostalgia could fill.
The spacious ground floor office that adjoined the large conference room at the back of the house was a world unto itself. The top-of-the-line technology that had been crammed into every corner made my relatively sophisticated computer system at home archaic.
Tentatively at first then with increasing confidence and speed, I had unlocked layer after layer of encrypted folders and files, revealing two shadow organizations, the Consortium's key personnel with its allied blocks across the world and the subversives' leadership, all carefully camouflaged behind the public names and faces on each side. I began to feel I was a secret Maquis operative again. I knew Sookie would pose a more contemporary comparison to a vampiric James Bond.
The population statistics and intelligence reports were extensive, encompassing Eastern and Western Europe and the Americas as well as the entire Orient along with Australia and New Zealand. By country and by state, the numbers of vampires on each side were staggering, this despite the purges and outright slaughter in certain parts of the world since the Great Revelation. The human population had no idea how easy it would be for my entire race to conquer them if we chose that path.
Initial contacts and arrangements would require days of work that had to be done from Gaston's sophisticated nerve center. Once in place, secrecy would be the hardest element to maintain for an all-out coordinated attack worldwide, capable of being activated on a moments notice.
As I worked, I realized I had become too used to the benign and conventionally human life of a mainstreamer. The vampires I would be in contact with were a mixed group. Some were men and women I knew from my years as Gaston's diplomatic courier and negotiator, as well as his business representative. Many in Europe were new names and faces that had replaced those who had been slaughtered in World War Two or who had vanished behind the Iron Curtain during the Cold War never to be heard from again.
Despite my age, I was considered one of the new breed of vampire. Along with Alec, I was at the top of the leadership hierarchy pyramid. Putting aside his long history, Gaston was listed only as the leader for the European faction on our side. It coincided with the place he had occupied since his retirement as Consul General for life and the institution of a rotating consulship since then. Of course, he had remained vigilantly active behind the scenes in every way.
While I began formulating strategy, I reminded myself how far our supernatural race of outsiders had come. Our progression and transitions over the centuries had moved inexorably in tandem with the human race since their survival was so tightly tied to our existence and our sustenance. This house had evolved from a hole-in-the-ground hovel to a rich estate worthy of royalty. Though in secret and shadows, my life and that of my race had also evolved into its own grandeur.
My Viking need to test myself by indulging my hunger for adventure and my rabid curiosity had resulted in extensive personal travel across the globe outside my work for the Consortium. My ravenous appetite for new places had expanded exponentially as human transportation had advanced. Whenever I had needed to rest, escape, recover, feel free or revitalize my ties to my vampire heritage, I sought refuge in this sturdy house, my country home filled with beauty, warmth and safety. I reveled in the changes I had found at each homecoming over the centuries. What never changed was Gaston's total, unconditional love.
Life and death for my entire race had never loomed so close. As the hours rushed by, I knew one of two scenarios would occur: either the humans would be conquered and enslaved with those of us, vampire and other supernaturals who opposed the oppressors, being destroyed, or, in fighting for their survival, the humans would end us all, the innocent along with the guilty.
My inner clock knew it was getting late. I shut down the main computer in the downstairs office so I could retire to my suite of rooms upstairs. I stopped in the kitchen to get myself some TrueBlood to see me through the rest of the night. Without my woman's sweet nourishment, I found my energy flagging.
I chatted briefly with Genevieve, attempting to soothe her earlier embarrassment. My sincere questions about her family succeeded in putting her completely at ease, and restored the happy celebration of my homecoming for her.
Upstairs, there had been more changes to my rooms than Gaston had said. A complete home theatre system had been installed enabling me to enjoy a full audio/visual spectrum of entertainment. There was even a modern digital clock included with the cordless phone on my bedside table. My own intercom box connecting me to all rooms in the house did not surprise me.
The direct creature comforts for my body were more than luxurious. The softest Egyptian cotton sheets and a gold silk comforter adorned my large mahogany sleigh bed. The oversized wardrobe contained an assortment of new clothing including a selection of floor length dressing gowns in various rich fabrics, something I had not indulged myself with for decades. Besides the thick towels in my private bathroom, there was a drawer filled with expensive French milled soaps in a variety of fragrances. When the time came for the sun to rise, I would be able to retire freshly bathed and comfortably covered, totally safeguarded by the internal room-darkening system that I could control at the press of a button. The affluent lifestyle in this house was even better than being royalty.
This all sounded so perfect except for the one very important thing that was missing. The twenty-four inch laptop screen on my sitting room desk was open and glowing, demanding my attention. I ignored it. As I paced from room to room waiting for my cell phone to ring, my bare toes became lost in the deep plush fibers of the new wall-to-wall carpeting throughout my suite.
I had felt Sookie probing my sleep during the flight over the Atlantic and her calm satisfaction that I was safe and resting. Amazed and confident at how clearly I sensed her at such a great distance, I reached out to her often during my day. As the complexity and pressure of what was expected of me ballooned, my need for her full presence escalated. My distraction was such that even the ivory color of the carpet reminded me of her wedding gown. Everything I saw or touched or smelled or heard brought back a memory of her. The small quantity of TrueBlood I ingested did nothing to assuage my hunger and had left a bitter taste in my mouth.
My naked body under the sapphire satin dressing gown was painfully demanding a different kind of attention and activity, the comfort only my bonded lover could give me. I had just decided to call her number when the special ringtone on my cell sounded.
"Sookie?" I said anxiously into the mouthpiece.
I felt Eric's distinctive up-close-and-personal mental touch on my mind with his one word. "Yes, Eric. It's me," and I grabbed onto him tightly through our bond. He was thousands of miles away across an ocean, but I felt him, here, with me, in this room.
My husband's heavy silence made me probe his tightly wound emotions that poured through the phone. I didn't like what I felt. Suppressing my anxiety, I reached out with my twin tools of blood bond and supe magic. I was shocked at what I found. My beloved was choking under a burden he didn't know how to begin explaining.
"So spill, Viking."
"Spill?"
"Talk to me, big guy."
There was a grave silence then an agonized plea, "I need you first, my lover. What are you wearing?"
Switching gears from the practical to the erotic, I answered, "Your lilac silk tee. It's my favorite 'cause it makes those gorgeous sapphire eyes of yours glow with warmth and tenderness when they look at me. The last time you wore it, I couldn't resist licking my way up your body from your belly button to your throat then back down again to your gracious plenty."
A slight tremor in his voice, he added his own fantasy, "If I was with you right now, I would be sucking on your nipples through the silk, first the right one then the left, until they were so hard you'd be screaming in pleasure."
I gulped hungrily, feeling Eric's mouth on me through his emotions.
"Where is your hand, lover?"
"Stroking my clit."
"Spread your legs for me and go to that warm place I adore."
Shivering, I slid my fingers down my swollen folds and began probing my slit until I felt slick wetness. "Where's your hand, Viking?"
"You know where it is," he laughed.
In my head, I saw him become more aggressive with his grip on his long, heavy shaft. "I want to feel you, baby," I begged.
We were both hurting so badly, my fingers and his fist quickly accomplished their goals. My insides spasmed just as Eric shouted one of those Old Norse words he never translated for me, the ones he used in his deepest moments of sexual release.
After my room service dinner and over the next five hours, my man spilled what was on his mind. The threat this time was so enormous, I wished we could go hide somewhere. Without saying it, we used repeated acts of phone sex to keep the scary stuff from overwhelming us. Taking our bodies to fresh levels of creativity and lust helped.
At the end of our final climax, I breathlessly asked my beloved, "Dream of me, my husband."
Through the strong, steady throb of our blood bond, he whispered tenderly, "I will. And you do the same of me, my wife."
Reluctantly, we each pressed the "end" button on our cells. I settled back on the rumpled hotel bed in Eric's lilac tee that smelled so strongly of sex. For tonight, at least, I could fall into a peaceful, content sleep.
KOSI FM101 had been playing a medley of John Denver songs since Quinn and I had gotten on I-70 headed for Denver International. The earlier sprinkles of snow were increasing steadily as we headed east.
"I really wish you'd wait until tomorrow to fly home. This storm is going to get worse."
Quinn's usual snarly brain wasn't as tightly shielded this Saturday afternoon. His disappointment that our time together was ending had been seeping through since he picked me up at the hotel.
"I checked with the airline. The southern route where I'm going is pretty clear so there's no problem. I really need to get home. I have a ton of laundry to do plus repacking for my next E(E)E assignment in Washington D. C. next Tuesday."
I didn't go into how much more time I needed to spend on the phone with my lover. After three days, our separation had become seriously painful in multiple ways. I had been so excited that I'd been able to feel him in my sleep the last three nights. Even more amazing, we had been sharing each other's dreams. When we'd talked just this morning, I'd felt so many negative emotions thrashing around his vampire being, words like anxiety, fear, frustration, that were so very rare in my man. Most frightening was the strain of responsibility that showed itself when he informed me he would be away for at least another week.
He asked me to get in touch with his tech guy to set up a point-to-point video conferencing expansion of our home computer. Peppering me with computer terms like codec software, webcam, audio output and other terminology that had my head spinning, I listened quietly feeling clearly that his primary reason for the request was so we could actually see each other in real time when we talked. Blind phone sex simply wasn't enough for the total emotional bond we craved in our physical intimacy.
A gust of wind blew a spray of beautifully geometric snowflakes against the windshield of Quinn's Ford Explorer. The wipers and heated glass quickly dispersed them as we sped along the highway.
We had fallen into an awkward silence having already discussed the successful ending of my business visit. The lyrics to "My Sweet Lady" drifted from the audio system's multiple speakers.
I had innocently started to hum when Quinn reached out and hurriedly shut off the radio. The total silence really amplified his unsettled mental and emotional state. He tried to shut it down, but it was too late.
Reading the anguish, I had to ask, "Does that song mean something to you?"
His powerful hands that had been so gentle with me gripped the steering wheel tightly, every muscle and tendon bulging. "That was the way I saw us right from the beginning," his voice a whispered growl.
In place of the physical touch on his arm that I knew would be a mistake, I said, "You're a vital, beautiful man, Quinn. You deserve to love and be loved by a woman you can build a life with, have a home and children." He glanced over at me then went back to glaring at the road ahead. "Not an unattainable memory," I added.
His hands relaxed slightly on the steering wheel but he kept his eyes straight ahead. His voice lost a layer of tenseness, replaced by the tenderness I knew he was so capable of. "You more than anyone should understand that once the heart chooses, it can't settle. Ever."
I was about to utter another trite comment when I felt a tremendous force of energy approaching the car from behind us. That supe power of mine flashed an image of impending fatal disaster into my mind. I grabbed at the steering wheel with all the strength my vampire blood enhanced body possessed and wrenched it far to the left out of Quinn's control.
Impact after impact crashed into the SUV from behind, propelling us at the vehicles in front of us. The redirected wheels carried us into the center median until we were sandwiched between it and the growing pile-up of cars. The impact repercussions continued as the SUV imploded around us. I was trapped, surrounded by twisted metal, shattered glass and plastic, and Quinn's large body. The sweet, coppery smell of blood, his and mine, flooded my nostrils. Almost as an afterthought, a horrendous flash of pain cut into my chest, and I screamed Eric's name. Then nothing.
