A/N There will be more nookie, I swear. Hold on. Thank you again, TxGal.
Chapter 11
I went back down to the house to wait for Lance's call. I fidgeted and paced around for about thirty minutes before the phone rang. Lance launched right in to the plan.
"Sookie, you and I are going to be working together, maybe joining some other folks later. One corner of Hot Shot remains uncovered by the FOTS, according to Alcide. The northwest corner on the Texas side is bordered by protected land, and a few Choctaw burial mounds and holy grounds.
"And since I am half-Choctaw, on my mother's side, I am a member of the Choctaw nation, and I have permission to cross the property. We'll be going in through that direction, trying to get to the main camp. Alcide wants you there, in case you can pick up on anything. I've got some preparations to make, and I'll pick you up about two. Wear jeans and heavy boots, we'll be hiking through some rough spots."
He went on to explain how we would go in through the woods bordering the holy grounds. No FOTS had been spotted in that particular part of the county, probably due to the protected status. The pack had been sending 'ringers' in all morning and would continue throughout the day, until all the two-natured were replaced with non-shifters all over Hot Shot. The pack planned to circle the FOTS with a larger circle of Weres and shifters on the outside, and close them in.
I began to barrage him with questions. "Why does this thing have to go down like this, anyway? Couldn't we just expose what's going on? I mean, just call law enforcement, let them go out there, and let them take care of it."
"At this point there is no proof, Sookie, just what you've heard in people's heads. It's less than hearsay at this point. We know they've been setting up hunting camps, but that's legal to do."
"But what about fines for night hunting and shooting animals out of season? I mean, there's no such thing as panther season, and wolves are only hunted if there is a cull or something," I asked. It just seemed to me that the men folk wanted a fight for fight's sake.
"Most of the law enforcement and wildfire officers in the area are at a conference in New Orleans this weekend. The rest have been paid off, Sookie. It's a dirty deal, and there are lots of hands in it."
I became quiet as I processed this new bit of information. Maybe the fight was unavoidable. Lance got off the phone quickly. I was left sitting in a kitchen chair staring at the tabletop.
Okay, that meant I had approximately five hours to kill before he picked me up. What does a person do why they are waiting for battle? Wash the windows? Pumice their feet? I nervously cast around for a way to occupy my time. Finally I decided to do some internet research and work on a few press releases. This kept me occupied for several hours. I then dressed in Jason's clothes and cap. I had just enough time to drive to a Pack N Post in Shreveport and pay to send some faxes, making sure to pull the cap low over my face and pay with cash. I got back to Bon Temps just before 2 pm.
I heard Lance's truck pull up and walked outside. He looked me up and down and laughed. "You look like a guy," he said. I still had my hair tucked under the cap.
I jumped in the truck and we took off. I noticed he was wearing jeans and a thin tan leather shirt that accentuated his torso nicely. He smelled like he had been outside all day, like evergreens and fresh cut wood.
"I didn't realize you're half Choctaw."
"Yes. My mother, who I told you is full human, is Choctaw. Not many people realize that Native American people have been much more aware of the supernatural than the rest of the populace for the last few hundred years. We've known about Weres and shifters for centuries. You'll notice how often Native Americans are depicted in the company of wolves? It's not a coincidence." I hadn't ever thought about that, but it certainly is true.
I looked at Lance more closely. I could see the Choctaw heritage now that I knew to look for it. He had golden brown skin, much darker than Alcide, high cheekbones, a straight, elegant nose, and a strong jaw line.
"I think my mother was able to accept my father more readily because her people had knowledge of the two-natured. Half Cajun, half Choctaw, and half of the Cajun is Were, so do the math," he laughed. "I'm just a mish mosh." I got a little embarrassed, as I knew he noticed I was staring at him. Boy, it all fit together to make a pretty package though. I tried not to gape at the way his muscles rippled under the leather of his shirt.
"There's also an ancient Choctaw story about a hunter who became a deer. We believe this may have been one of the first records made of shifter existence in America."
I felt momentarily overwhelmed by how much I did not know about the Supe world. We were silent for the rest of the trip. When we got to the border of the protected area, Lance parked the truck and we began the trek through the woods. We continued through the woods in silence.
"Sookie, stick close to me if anything happens. We're trying to sneak up on the main camp."
"How long have you known Weres?" Lance asked as we walked. "I know your old boss Sam, is a shape-shifter."
"Yes, but he didn't tell me until about a year and a half ago. We were really close, but since I've had this job, we haven't spoken much."
"And you and Alcide met while you were working for the vamps?"
"Yes." I hesitated before going further, then launched in.
"I'm not really very happy with Alcide right now, Lance. He told a friend of mine that you and I were more involved than we are – and it caused me some problems on the personal front."
Lance swore underneath his breath. "Oh, God, Sookie. Alcide can be such a prick sometimes - pardon my French – especially around vampires. They give him an inferiority complex, so he starts obloviating. I'll talk to him." I nodded.
"So, I heard you dated Quinn," Lance continued conversationally as we dug through the brush.
Oh, God.
"Briefly." I said, briefly. Lance chuckled.
"Yeah, he's not the same guy he used to be," Lance said. "You know, he's always had issues, but one thing you could say about Quinn, he's loyal to his family and he's brave. The guy fought vampires in the pits, and won, for years. That's no small thing."
Well, that's true. But I so did not want to talk about Quinn.
Lance and I stopped in front of a group of three mounds. There were little hills of dirt, about six feet high and four feet wide, covered neatly in pine needles.
"These mounds aren't happy places," Lance said quietly. "The Choctaw placed a great deal of significance on the bones of their ancestors. When they were relocated to Oklahoma from the Mississippi basin, they tried to take the bones with them, they only made it this far." He placed his hand reverently on the ground beside the mound. "They couldn't carry them any further, and stopped here to bury them on the way to the Trail of Tears."
I was silent for a moment lost in the solemnness of the mounds. After a while we started moving again. We had about a quarter of a mile of deep brush to go before it started to clear out. We were getting closer to the camp now. Lance held his fingers to his lips to let me know to stop talking
We trekked in silence, both of us trying hard to move quietly. We had gone almost a quarter mile when I took a misstep on a wood log and fell through a wall of brush into a hole, apparently dug as a trap. Stupid me, I screamed. It was dark and smelled funny in the hole and it hurt like hell when I hit the bottom.
"Sookie," I saw Lance's face above me as he leaned over the hole. "Hush, Sookie, I'll get you out." Right about then two men came up behind him and stuck shot guns in his back.
"Well, lookey here, we ain't got us no panther after all, just two losers up to no good," a flinty voice railed. I saw a shuck of dirty blond hair bordering two squinty hazel eyes under a dirty cap lean over right where Lance had been.
"Aw, that's just crazy Sookie Stackhouse, the vamp humper," he cackled, and I knew immediately who he was.
Rodney Ray went to school with Jason, and was always creepy, even as a little kid. He was the kind of boy who killed frogs by holding them on top of ant piles and chased after cats and dogs with a big stick. He came from the kind of white trash family that gave white trash a bad name. All of the Rays had been in and out of jail their whole lives, even the women. White supremacy dealings were a family tradition that went back as far as anyone could remember. Gran had to teach the Ray children in Sunday school the two or three times a year they showed up, and it always upset her because they would use foul language and make ugly comments, even in church.
"Here, give me your hand," he said, reaching toward me. Reluctantly I did, and he pulled me ungracefully to the top. Rodney smiled, displaying small, crooked and stained teeth. Lance was struggling with the other man. "Stop that or I'll shoot the girl," he barked. He pointed a shot gun right in my face. Lance immediately stopped moving, his rage radiating through the air. The other man I did not recognize. He was tall and overweight with greasy black hair and bad skin. Quickly he handcuffed and shackled Lance.
"Got tired of the dead guys, did you, now you got yourself an Injun werewolf," Rodney said, giving us both a dirty leer. "Ain't that what my English teacher used to call a double negative?"
The black haired man guffawed.
"We been out here all day hadn't got to shoot at nearly nothing," Rodney continued. "Ain't even caught one of them cats or a wolf, and I promised my young'un he'd get a fur skin rug out of this deal. Guess we're just going to have to skin one of you."
"Rodney, they told you there wouldn't be any shifters out till the moon comes out," the black haired said condescendingly as he proceeded to handcuff me and put the leg shackles around my ankles. "I know that, Bud," Rodney said. "But they can change before then if they want to, I figured we might see one or two." He was kind of whining at this point.
Nobody talked for a while. Rodney and Bud argued a little about what to do with us. I tried to listen to their thoughts. Rodney's mind made me want to crawl into a corner and hide from the world. I'd always hated his guts. Bud mostly thought about how he'd like some biscuits and gravy and a beer. I could tell by listening, however, that these two had factioned off from the main group due to their anti-social behavior. I guess even bigots imagine they have some standards.
Pretty soon the sun started to set. Bud started a fire and turned on a couple of Coleman lanterns. Rodney eyed me where Bud sat me on the ground next to Lance. He was playing with a knife. "I always thought you were right cute Sookie, even if you are crazy as a shot cat." Lance made a low sound deep in his throat. As Rodney advanced I could see his arms start to bulge.
"Your brother's all right, even though he can't seem to keep it in his pants. Screw anything that moves."
He put his face up close to mine. "Will you screw anything that moves, Sookie? How 'bout I start moving right now." He reached for my breast. I tried to hit him with my hands clasped between the cuffs. He reached out with the knife and flicked both my cheeks, not deep, but enough to draw blood. I spit in his face.
Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Lance continue to puff up. His wrists got bigger, straining at the handcuffs; his chest started bulging at the leather shirt, the arms ripping.
"Hey, look, he's changing," Bud yelled. He ran over to Lance and hit him in the head with the butt of the shotgun, knocking him out cold.
"Eh hee, there went your hero," Rodney laughed, stepping over to look at Lance on the ground then coming back at me with the knife. He pushed his face at mine, trying to kiss me. I desperately twisted my face away from the horrid smell of his mouth. "If you make this hard you're going to get cut some," he slashed at my arms with the knife, making two superficial cuts across both of my forearms. I moaned.
I was getting slightly hysterical from the situation. I wondered inexplicably if Rene had toyed with Tina before he strangled her. Of all the people you would not want to get stuck in the woods with, this backwater Jeffrey Dahmer wannabe would be at the top of the list. "You got nobody here to protect you, you know," he kicked me in the gut at that. I doubled over to the ground, dry heaving from the pain.
"Not entirely true," I heard Eric's voice somewhere above me. I looked up to see my Viking, dressed in a tight green tee shirt and paratrouper pants, grab both men by the hair and knock their heads together. Rodney dropped the knife and Eric wrestled the shot gun out of Bud's hand. Their skulls made a sickening sound as he banged them together again. "Where are the handcuff keys?" Bud motioned to his pocket. Eric ripped the pocket open, spilling the keys on the ground. "Go unlock them now before I rip your throat out."
Bud reeled, but stumbled over and unlocked my arms and legs, then set Lance free.
"Bring me the cuffs," Eric ordered. Rodney seemed too dazed to move. Clearly terrified, Bud returned the hardware to Eric, who quickly cuffed and shackled both men to a small tree facing each other with their limbs intertwined in a lover-like embrace.
Lance came to and sized up the situation. He nodded to me and Eric, and then walked off to use his phone. Eric kneeled down beside me, rubbing my wrists and ankles. His eyes darkened as he took in the cuts on my cheeks and arms. He proceeded to clean them very gently, his tongue and touch soft and dare I say, loving.
"You said no vamps," I stated, somewhat defiantly. "I didn't call you."
"I know, dear one, I heard you anyway. Just like you did with Sigebert."
"You keep the bond tamped down, Eric."
"Yes, but real distress can get through. I don't close it off completely. I only tamp it down because I know you want the privacy."
Suddenly I felt ashamed. I wondered how Eric felt about the privacy issue, but I decided to talk about that some other time. I closed my eyes and laid my head back as he continued to work on my wounds.
"Disgusting creature," Rodney hissed from the tree as he watched Eric tending to me. "Abominations need to be wiped from the earth…." he continued to rant. "Is that the one who cut you?" Eric asked in a whisper. I nodded. Eric walked over to Rodney and in a single blow shattered his cheek bone. Rodney appeared to pass out.
At that moment Lance walked back, closing his phone.
"It's over. Someone sent fake press releases via anonymous fax to the attorneys for the FOTS and the ACLU this afternoon; just to demonstrate what might happen after the smoke clears from this weekend. As African-American Weres were targeted in addition, the NAACP was also contacted. Although all that was bad enough, the real damage was done when the attorneys for PETA received their faxes.
Apparently Steve Newlin's wife is a big animal lover, a supporter of the SPCA and a card-carrying member of PETA, whose attorney called her first thing. When she got wind of the Fellowships' plans to hurt warm and fuzzy creatures, she threatened to string her husband up by his balls, right before she drug him through a nasty divorce.
"That was all it took. Newlin said he called it off because he didn't want the bad publicity, but, personally, I think he is scared to death of his wife.
"Everybody's pulling out. We're done. A few casualties, no fatalities. We are very lucky. "
We walked away from Rodney and Bud towards the clearing. A pickup with a covered bed pulled up followed by Pam in Eric's car. Two burly men I recognized as bouncers from Fangtasia got out of the truck and went around to the back, where one opened the gate. I gasped when I saw Alcide, hogtied and gagged, lying in the bed.
"What the hell is going on?" I demanded.
Pam got out of the car, fully decked out in safari gear, and strode over to me. "He thinks the Fellowship jumped him. He doesn't know it's ended," she said in a conspiratorial whisper. "I'll be having a little fun with him."
"Battle's over, wolf," Pam said, poking Alcide with what appeared to be a riding crop (I decided not to ask why she would have one). "PETA came to your rescue." She ripped the gag from his throat.
"It's over," Alcide yelled in disbelief. I ran over and began working on his ties.
"What do you mean PETA came to our rescue?' he asked indignantly. I tried to get the ties loosened.
"Not so fast Sookie." Pam took me by the arm and pulled me away.
"So, Alcide, you want me to untie you, then tell me you're not going to mess with my master and Sookie any more. No more bullshit."
Alcide glared at her. His face was reddened and his clothes and hair were terribly disheveled. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
"Say it."
"Pam, please he's my boss," I pled.
"I'm not going to mess with them anymore," Alcide said, looking at me quite abashedly. "No more bullshit. Sorry, Sook. He brings out the worst in me," nodding his head toward Eric.
"I know what you mean," I said dryly. Lance, who had been hovering quietly in the background, took a step forward. "I'll take you back, Alcide." He looked at Eric and me. "Do you want to go with me or are you okay here?"
"No, go ahead," I said quietly. "I'll be fine."
Lance gave me a rueful smile that said a lot. "Sorry I didn't save you. " I walked over to him and gave him a big hug, in spite of Eric.
"Sorry I screamed and got us ambushed."
"No harm, no foul. See ya' Monday morning, Sookie." Lance and Alcide left, then Pam went with the bouncers and Eric and I were left standing alone.
"Everytime I see you lately that guy's around," Eric observed, but he wasn't real pissy about it.
"I'm going to get fired," I stated flatly. "If not for the PETA thing, for the hog-tying. I'm toast."
"So it was you," Eric said with a smile. "I figured as much. And I can only hope you get fired."
"That's really mean. I need to work. Hell, I haven't even gotten my first paycheck yet for God's sake."
"I have a position for you…" Eric started.
"I'm not waitressing anymore," I cut him off. "And I don't want some ridiculous job you just created so I could work for you."
"It wouldn't be for me. Felipe De Castro did some checking around and much to his chagrin, found that it is common practice among Supes to pay their telepaths highly. There are so few of you, intimidation is not an appropriate tactic. He's really quite embarrassed. He has agreed to offer you a position at a salary twenty percent above what you are making now, plus a new car. He kind of feels like he owes you that anyway, after you smashed yours up running over Sigebert.
"And a new car wouldn't be covered in Were fur and smell like Bil Jac," he said with an evil grin.
"Hey, my car is immaculate," I retorted.
"Just joking, Sookie, but the offer is real."
I thought for a moment. "Well, I'll just have to see what happens with Alcide," I conceded. "I did sign a contract."
Eric nodded. "However it goes, whether you leave now or at the end of the contract, the offer is open. Felipe understands that it is your choice, and to a certain degree, you have the power in this situation."
"And do you understand those things?"
Eric gave me a sidelong glance. "Sookie, I lived through Women's Suffrage and Gloria Steinem. I had a lot of fun in the sixties, but I also heard what people were saying. The concept of a woman being independent is not totally foreign to me. It's just I don't usually find that type of woman literally falling at my feet every night at Fangtasia. But I would have never lived this long if I couldn't adapt."
"I'm not falling at your feet, Eric," I couldn't hide the irritation in my voice.
He laughed. "No, my lover, you are a challenge, and quite an unusual one at that. You stopped the war with the internet and a fax machine," Eric said, looking at me with great pride in his eyes. "No small feat."
"Well I had to get creative," I said. "My options were limited."
Eric's smile faded.
"I came to fight," he stated, setting his jaw. "I would have fought for you, even though my King said I shouldn't. He promised you protection through me. He may not take that seriously, but I do.
"I would have done it anyway. I will fight for you. I do fight for you. You should know that by now."
"And why would that be? Why do you fight for me?" I asked, holding my breath.
Eric gave me a measuring look. "Because I don't want anything to happen to you," he said after a moment. "I don't want to waste another year. I don't want to spend the rest of your mortal life trying to catch you between boyfriends.
"I don't want to cheapen what we feel for one another in something we call an insignificant relationship, when we both know that nothing between us is insignificant. Those are the things I do not want."
"What do you want, Sookie?" Eric looked at me with such sincerity. His hair was coming loose from its ponytail and the wisps blew around his lovely, lovely face. The way his eyes glowed made me want to crawl inside them and stay forever. I suddenly realized that the scariest thing about this vampire was how I felt I could so easily lose myself in him. I had all kinds of things to say, but I decided to stick with the one at the front of my mind.
"I want you to take me to the cabin tonight," I said. "And I want you to stay with me as long as you can." Eric looked at me and nodded, then stood up and offered me his hand. "All right," he said quietly. "But you do realize you have not properly answered the question."
We got in the car and headed back to Bon Temps. I found myself craving the security of the cabin. I was tired and filthy and bloody and couldn't wait to get a bath. I closed my eyes as Eric drove and visualized being alone with him in my quiet, peaceful hideaway.