Sookie rubbed her sore neck gingerly. The puncture wounds where Russell's fangs had pierced her neck were still painful to the touch. She winced and again dipped her blood-tinged washcloth back into the sinkful of hot water. As she did so, her calico kitten rubbed itself against her ankles, purring softly. Sookie looked down at it.
"Don't be sad, sweetie. It's not so bad— Lord knows I've had worse."
But she was lying; the bites throbbed like hell and her whole body felt weak. Russell had drunk from her until she passed out. This she knew because she woke up on the floor, deserted but for the guide who had brought her to the room in the first place. She wished for the umpteenth time that she could be back home with Eric. Vampire bites hurt a lot less during sex, when endorphins were running high and dulled the pain. It still hurt, but it was the good kind of hurt. Sookie smiled ruefully to herself. Being bitten otherwise though, felt like being stabbed with a vaccine needle— a sharp, acute pain, only in two distinct spots. Russell hadn't bothered giving her his blood in return to heal her. Why would he? He wanted her alive, but her comfort had certainly not been part of the bargain.
Sookie checked her watch. It was just past 3am. She sank to the floor, still fully clothed, pressing the warm washcloth against her neck. She was cold, tired, and so hungry she could eat a whole Thanksgiving dinner. She sat back against the large bathtub and willed herself not to cry. Things could be worse right? She'd seen things when they were worse. So why did she feel so hopeless now? The tears began to fall now, in spite of Sookie's best efforts. The kitten cautiously climbed in her lap, curling up in her warmth. She pet the small thing absently with her other hand, letting its comforting presence calm her anxious mind. Before she knew it, they were both fast asleep on the cold, tiled bathroom floor.
"There it is," Alcide said to Tara. "Now, we just gotta find a back entrance. Not much point in walking up to Russell's front door."
They drove around the vast premises in silence, both watching, listening, and smelling (in Alcide's case) for trouble. Finally, they came to the back of the seemingly endless mansion. Unlike the front, the back of the grounds was much more approachable. Unlike Russell's previous estate, this one did not have large grass expanses surrounding it, but rather a small stretch of grass leading from the house and numerous trees everywhere else. Good. Easier to stay hidden that way. Alcide thought. There also was a fairly small-ish building that looked like a large shed or maybe a pool house, since there was a sparkling azure pool nearby. Alcide drove directly onto the grounds and slowly parked behind a grand oak tree. For a moment, neither or them moved or spoke. Then Alcide turned to Tara.
"Okay," he said, looking at Tara seriously. "Moment of truth, here. If you want out of this, Tara…well, I won't blame you."
"Alcide," Tara started, then found she couldn't look at him. Instead, she stared at the powder blue sky up ahead through the windshield. The clouds going past the sun looked like chubby white teddy bears. "Russell Edgington, besides kidnapping my best friend, let me be kept as some crazy vampire's pet. I know I'm only human, but if I can somehow pay him back for what he let happen to me…you can bet your ass I'll do it, no matter how small." She exhaled shakily and looked at Alcide, crossing her brown arms over her chest. "So. We get in, we split up, and we meet back in an hour, right? I can do this, Alcide."
"I know, I know. You're a big girl," Alcide smiled wanly. "But I don't want anyone else's blood on my hands. Nothing's gonna happen to you if I can help it, Tara." He tentatively reached for her wrist. Surprised, Tara let her arms uncross and let his hand move to cover hers. Alcide gently held her hand and gave it a little squeeze. To her greater surprise, Tara smiled at him and squeezed back.
"It's now or never," said Alcide. "Come on."
Tara went first, as they both agreed a human woman would arouse less suspicion in whatever guards there were within the house. She crept up to the house and saw an ornately decorated set of French doors. Not what she was looking for. She needed a simple back door, or a kitchen door— some kind of entrance that wouldn't be watched too closely. She slowly crept around the perimeter of the house while Alcide kept lookout from the smaller building. Finally, she found a plain wooden side door with a rusty handle. She grasped the handle tightly, fiercely hoping that it would be unlocked.
Luck was with her. The door opened to reveal a large laundry room, full of washers and dryers, cleaning supplies, and lots of women all dressed alike in pale blue shirtdresses with white aprons. They were all ironing, sewing, or bustling back and forth pushing and sorting through laundry baskets. Tara quickly noted that they all spoke a language other than English. She heard Spanish, French Creole from Haiti, even some of what sounded like Russian. Ah-ha, Tara thought. So this is how dead creeps keep up these lavish surroundings. They practically have a fuckin' army of maids! Tara was just thinking of how she could get to the main part of house without being noticed when suddenly she got roughly pulled aside from the foot-traffic and found herself staring into the face of a middle-aged white woman with short red hair. Unlike the other women, she was dressed in a navy blue uniform underneath her crisp white apron.
"Oh, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"
Tara stared blankly. She had never seen the woman before in her entire life. But there was a name tag on the woman's lapel reading "Mrs. C. Williams, Head Housekeeper." Seeing Tara's expression, the housekeeper's face fell. "Oh, but you don't speak a lick of English, do you? These vamps and all their secrets. You'd think I was working for the CIA! But I guess they have to hire foreigners. They don't like people that work here talking to outsiders, you know…" She trailed off conspiratorially. Before Tara could say a thing, the overzealous Mrs. Williams continued chattering on in a thick Mississippi accent.
"And, oh my Lord, they make such a mess like you just wouldn't believe! They give me the heebie-jeebies but they pay me real well, bless their little undead hearts. There's so much blood all over everything every single day! We just had to place an order for fifteen more gallons of bleach…" She paused for breath and shook her head, then seemed to truly notice Tara for the first time. Tara was deciding whether or not she should play dumb or make a run for it, when the woman kept talking.
"Well, anyway, what are you doing down here? You need to get changed into your uniform dress first. If someone upstairs sees you in street clothes!" She looked around nervously. "Come on, then, darlin'" she said, making a "follow me" gesture. Then she spoke slowly and much too loudly, pointing at her clothes. "A UNIFORM DRESS. UNIFORM. I GET YOU NEW DRESS. UNDERSTAND?"
Tara inwardly sighed at the woman's assumption that she was a maid and that she couldn't speak English. She wasn't sure which bothered her more, but now wasn't the time to combat small-town racist attitudes; she had a job to do. So she nodded like she hadn't a brain in her head, smiled far too brightly, and did her best to fudge an accent.
"Dress. Uniform. Yes, ma'am."
"Good," Mrs. Williams nodded, satisfied. She walked Tara down a long hallway filled with lockers and the maids' personal belongings until they came to a store closet of sorts with a few extra light blue dresses hanging in it. Mrs. Williams selected one and then also grabbed a white apron identical to her own. "Here. A six should fit you. We've already stripped all the beds. All that's left is to get you started on the room for the lady upstairs."
Happy "Sucker Sunday" guys! Sorry for any formatting discrepancies- I tried to fix them but then just gave up, haha. I figured y'all would rather have the chapter a little choppy rather than none at all! How'd you like this chapter?
