A/N: Happy (almost) 1-year Fanfic-iversary to me! I've written/posted over 325k, which for context is about 700 pages of work. Thanks to Mrskroy, rachel olsen-williams, and every single reader. Chapter name is an apropos song title and its artist.
Warning: Explicit Language
xXxXxXxXx Present Day xXxXxXxXx
Her absence was somehow more annoying than her presence, and I found myself listless and irritable – almost undeniably so.
My maker was inconsolable.
She was gone, and he yearned endlessly to be reunited with her.
Unfortunately – though I would never deign to admit it out loud – on some level, maybe I did too.
oOoOoOoOo Flashback oOoOoOoOo
I reopened the front door after Addy bounded away into the night – her neon pink sneakers disappearing at the edge of the woods – as her exiting words hung like a smoke cloud over my head. Training my eyes on her moon-kissed form, I watched until she slipped out of view. Then I turned to glare at Pam, whose laughter continued to echo so raucously out from our unused kitchen that the framed art in the foyer clacked noisily against the drywall.
"What the fuck did she mean when she said we should become reacquainted with one another?"
I gritted out as I slammed the ornately carved door – veritably testing the thick wood's resilience – my demanding tone laced with the characteristic anger I had crafted to obscure my altogether too vexing confusion.
"Oh come on, Eric, you've got to be kidding me!" Pam retorted from her perched position at the kitchen island, throwing her perfectly-manicured fingers spread-eagled into the air in exasperation, a mocking lilt in her accented timbre, "You only just noticed it now? That little freak of nature's been saying that sort of shit for weeks!"
"Pamela," I clipped out as I stormed towards her, the groaning planks and my voice carrying an unspoken warning my tempestuous child needed to wisely heed, "do NOT refer to Godric's child as a freak…"
"She fucking dreams, Eric. She fucking dreams! Tell me what the fuck is that, if not fucking freaky?!"
Pam interrupted, launching to her feet – knocking the bar stool down with a loud crash against the slate-tiled floor – as I swiftly strode across the space between us.
I was not hard-pressed to argue against her.
During her first week in Louisiana – when she had refused to speak – Addy had often screamed and whimpered in her daysleep. The sounds had unnerved me each time upon rising; her grating and cacophonous shrieks muffled only by her – always – dead-bolted door. Hearing her cry out during what should have been a deathlike sleep was fucking freaky, as Pam had so eloquently put it.
It was also none of our damn business – Addy was Godric's child and problem, not Pam's and certainly not mine.
But I was compelled to defend her all the same.
"Do NOT overstep your bounds, Pamela!" I yelled, my fanged snarl mere inches from her placid countenance as I loomed over her, "As your maker, I command you never to speak of Godric's child in such a derogatory manner ever again!"
"Understood, Eric," she replied softly, a conciliatory mood overtaking her previously puckish attitude, her hands thrown up this time in admitted defeat – although my magical utterance had offered her no choice, "I just… don't like that she hurt you. She nearly KILLED you!" Ahhh… yes, the Fairy Blight. How could I ever forget… especially since Pam would not let me, "And you… you couldn't care less!" The volume of her voice crescendoed to a distressed shout, "YOU TOOK HER TO THE CARNIVAL FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"
"Pam," I soothed – calm dripping through our maker-child bond – as I drew her into my arms and pressed her against my chest. I outright ignored her exclamation regarding my humiliating outing with Addy almost two weeks ago, choosing instead to address her puerile fears, "you must stop begrudging the girl for what happened – this resentment hurts you, and you alone. She was dying, and I knew how much Godric wanted to keep her. The decision was my own."
Of course, I had never told Pam about the maker's command that I was to never harm Addy and that I was to protect her as he would – that I had been compelled to try to turn her.
I refused to pacify my progeny by disclosing I had not acted wholly of my own accord.
"Do not fret so much over Addy," I whispered, pulling back to hook my finger under Pam's chin, bidding her to catch my resolute gaze, "Godric will be back for her in a week's time, and then we will fall back into our regular routines. Everything will go back to normal and it will be as if she was never here – you will see."
She nodded and quickly flicked away her burgeoning tears, pleased and calmed by my mollifying statement – evidenced by the upturned, broad smile replacing her previously rigid frown. Releasing herself from my arms, Pam practically pranced back over to the island counter, righting the fallen chair in one swift motion while humming a happy – presumably British – tune. After situating herself back down, she resumed wet-coating her blood-colored nails – staining them a deeper, opaque red. I stared blankly at the display, clamping down my side of our maker-child bond.
The reminder of Addy's impending departure had stirred an emotion within me I could not identify.
But it did not mirror Pam's apparent relief.
"Pam, what has Addy been saying for weeks?"
I clipped out sharply as I reminded myself how this line of conversation had begun.
I knew I had decreased contact with Godric's child after the carnival – fucking dogs ruining everything – but I was unwilling to believe Pam's claim I had been unobservant.
"Eric, sometimes you are just fucking obtuse," Pam chuckled, brazenly skirting the line of my patience with her attitude – something she was quite adept at, "she thinks that we're together – that I'm your wife or something. When she said we should take this time to get reacquainted with one another," finger-quoting Addy's phrase as bubbling laughter erupted from her throat, inhibiting her ability to speak as articulately as she usually did, "She was… telling us that," the hiccup-like sniggers never waning, "while she was out… we should... fuck."
Addy wanted Pam and I to…
I caged the urge to let my jaw slacken or my mouth gape.
Reflexively, I placed my left hand on the granite counter by the sink, not to still myself, but to grip something I was unlikely to break. My right combed through my blonde hair, seemingly styling it, but in truth the gesture was intended to offer me some semblance of comfort. Because in truth, I felt shell-shocked, figuratively Pam's words had exploded like a bomb in my mind.
Even though I could not exactly pinpoint why they disturbed me so vehemently.
Ding-a-ling ding!
The jingling tone I had assigned to all other Area Sheriffs rang through the space, breaking the heavy silence. Without delay, I pulled my phone from pocket and speedily read an email sent by Godric's second-turned Sheriff, Isabel. I was not surprised the message had not come from my maker; he had been tied up working on marital negotiations for weeks.
It consisted of one sentence – a heads up of sorts.
A warning.
I was out the door in seconds, launching into the Louisiana sky and towards the Area Five court. I shot off a quick text to Thalia regarding Addy as I whipped through the air, before silencing the device altogether. I knew the little warrior was following her, could keep her safe. In fact, I could think of nothing but Godric's child, her welfare balancing tenuously at the forefront of my mind.
Conversely, Thalia's tenuous grasp of the English language had not been.
That was where I slipped up.
I lounged back, slouching down on an ostentatious red velvet-covered throne – a purchase made at Pam's insistence – atop the small dais in the warehouse building where the Area Five court was held. My calm demeanor displayed a coolness and quietude that was usually achieved only after hundreds of years stalking the night. After a millennia, I had finely-tuned my placid façade and become a master of my expressions.
Addy had literally accomplished the same in weeks.
She was an anomalous vampire.
"New Orleans is still quite a ways away. Is your future wife meeting you halfway?"
I asked evenly, as I casually inspected my nails and feigned boredom with the whole exchange, my tone all-business.
Although he may have expected some measure of stupefaction, I had not been shocked that the King of Texas had shown up in my Area unannounced – because I knew he was coming. Isabel's email had warned me he was likely on his way. She was not a fan of his, from what I could glean. Jameson had many enemies in Texas, at least compared to Godric.
Vampires tended to accrue more and more enemies with each passing decade.
Isabel could be counted among the King's it seemed.
Her treacherous forewarning had removed any element of surprise the protocol-avoiding King had hoped to gain. He had tried to subvert a well-established process – monarchs' official travel plans were generally released weeks, if not months, in advance – but to no avail. That coupled with the fact that the Queen – a stickler for details – had released no plans to travel to Shreveport told me everything I needed to know.
Aaron's intents were indeed malicious and malcontented.
Godric had been right – the King wanted Addy.
For weeks, I had repeatedly mulled over the situation as I awaited the rise of the sun to pull me into my day death. The King's behavior was downright juvenile and reckless, completely unexpected for a vampire of his age. It irked me to no end. Why would Jameson risk losing not only his position as King, but his immortality for… her? Undeniably, Addy was appealing – she was exceptionally beautiful and fiercely independent – but she was also oppressively frustrating and downright perplexing. Like a fucking cryptogram without the key to decipher its concealed message.
Of course, none of those things seemingly bothered Godric; he accepted her peculiarities without question, without measure.
But she drove me fucking crazy without even trying.
"No. I'm just passing through here," Jameson answered, his arms crossed over his blue-grey double-breasted jacket as he widened his stance – a laughable attempt at intimidation, "Had some personal business, ya know? Things ta take care of then, before heading into marital bliss there."
I nodded knowingly, having no fucking clue what he was talking about.
It was the vampire thing to do.
"Ya got that illustrious procurer 'round here tonight?" Aaron asked, scanning the spartanly furnished space as if the requested party was simply tucked away in the shadows somewhere – he was not, "Figure I outta meet the man's whose gonna be my chef de cuisine for the next hundred years... once all this contract shit gets finished up that is."
Of course, Bill Compton was here; he was just in the other room.
Ever since the Queen unceremoniously reassigned him to Area Five – the timing suspiciously aligned with Addy's turning – Bill was always here.
"He is in the back, Aaron, glamouring the newest additions to our donor pool," I offered, vamping to my feet in a graceful motion that rivaled the most light-footed, to walk leisurely down the few stage steps, "and I am sure he is quite eager to meet you as well."
That was a bold-faced lie.
While Bill was usually quick to brown-nose – especially with vampire royalty – he surprisingly loathed the Texas King, almost to no end.
Jameson swept past me, his wing-tipped shoes padding heavily against the sealed hardwood floors – a necessary addition to the otherwise unassuming décor in event of a bloodbath – to head into the back room, my arm gestured out to lead the way. But I did not follow him to the office space. Instead I reclaimed my position on display, lounging back in my plush chair once more, and smiled wickedly to myself. Despite the potential for unnecessary chaos or crisis, I had everything in hand, and under control. There was no need to remain on edge, or deny myself the moment of peace I had so rightly earned.
Plus, Bill was about to blow a fucking gasket.
And there were few things more satisfying than fucking with Mr. Willy Compton.
"Why would you bring her here!?"
I whisper-yelled at Thalia, tamping down the urge to fly out of the showy red-velvet lined throne, as she dragged a slightly disheveled Addy into the Area Five court.
Despite my instant ire, I remained cool and collected – impassive – my elbows pressed against the arms of the chair and my fingers steepled almost painfully – but not noticeably. Now was not the time to break my steely façade or to tip my hand.
The Texas King was still here, and Addy therefore needed to be elsewhere.
For her own safety as much as mine.
"Dog cancel. She want you."
I stifled the snort that threatened to escape from my throat, an indignant huff caged on the tip of my tongue behind my gritted teeth. That girl did not want me, or anything to do with me. She adored the time she spent alongside the dog, if her unbidden laughter or wide-reaching smiles were any indication.
Following her on her runs had been maddening – as well as telling.
"Jackson, Alcide's dad, was attacked by a vampire," Addy bit out almost instantly, as if to confirm my unspoken assertion. Her porcelain face twisted into a frown, and I spied Thalia's own countenance mirror a similar, but markedly more heated expression – her grip on Addy's arm tightening, likely in an effort to silence her. But now that the irriterande lilla fairie was speaking again, it seemed she had no intents to stop – her tone light, but unmistakably bitter, "I tried to call – I did – but you didn't pick up."
Because you should not have needed to call!
I screamed internally, wanting to smack the little Greek vampire pinned to Addy's side.
"She is not supposed to be here!"
I snarled as I inclined forwards, still seated – involuntarily gripping the arms of my chair so tight my fingernails sunk into the carved wood – my tone hushed but unambiguously livid.
"Thalia hide location from her."
Suddenly, I remembered the obviously ill-phrased contents of my earlier text message – Track Godric's child closely. Do not leave her alone, or reveal location. Threat imminent in the Area.
Oh, fucking hell.
"I'm fine," Addy hissed, as she attempted once again to shrug out of Thalia's grasp, the tail of her pulled-up hair grazing lightly over the two pebbled scars on her neck – my mark, "I'm here on official business – to put in a grievance with the Sheriff on behalf of the werewolf Jackson Herveaux."
My eyes turned to black-pooled slits as I drank in her barely covered form – from the naked nape of her neck down to her altogether too-short shorts – and rose to my feet. My beast begged me to take her – to scoop her into my arms, vamp into the night, and strip away the bullshit pretense between us. I barely noticed when Thalia disappeared from Addy's side, and left her alone in my sights.
My vision was tunneled, focused too keenly on her as if everything else had been burned away by the near bloodlust fire in my veins.
Why could I not keep control of myself around her?!
"That Godric's child, Miss Harding, there with ya, Sheriff?"
Though not yet visible, Jameson's voice echoed noisily against the rafters – shaking me from my heady and confusingly consuming thoughts. I regained my composure and my expression turned impassive once – my beast caged, at least for the time being. I watched as Addy took not one, but two steps away from the platform in the direction of the door outside. Her slow movements were deft and silent like the fabled church mouse – simultaneously guarded and fearless.
Despite her subversive efforts, I could still see she was plotting her escape – which meant the King would likely see it too.
But I felt proud of her for having the courage to even try.
"It is!"
Aaron clapped gleefully, as he sauntered into the room, his cheeks rosy and flush from feeding – a smug smirk threatening to erupt across his face.
He vamped to Addy's side, positioning himself so closely that he was just barely not touching her alabaster skin, and I tamped down the urge to fly from the dais and attack him.
Now was not the time to be hot-headed and rash.
"Sheriff, give us a minute here then…" Jameson bellowed brashly, as he briefly stopped leering at her to address me, "To get reacquainted, and such."
Pam's explanation of the euphemism behind the word reacquainted flooded my mind, and outrage coursed fiercely through my blood.
Perhaps it WAS close to the time to be reckless and act without abandon.
"She is but a fledgling," I truthed, "still emotional and unpredictably violent, Aaron," I lied, aware that Addy's markedly dispassionate, detached state had stunned me more than once, "It is best if I remain, for your protection. You understand, of course."
He threw his head back and roared, finding what I had said apparently hilarious.
Fucking asshole.
"You're too much! I'm eight freakin' hundred years old – that baby vamp's there's no threat! Go on then, give us some space… Unless you got something else ya wanna say there, Sheriff Northman."
There were many things I wanted to say – and do – but every single one of them would complicate our lives – mine, Pam's, Godric's… Addy's – and upheave them without measure. So instead I nodded to Thalia, turned on my heel, and nonchalantly exited the space – leaving Godric's child in the presence of her enemy. I told myself I could watch and listen to their exchange from the other room. That I could still interject and save her in the event the King of Texas committed a blatant, unequivocal offense. If he gave me an indisputable cause to unseat him.
Until then, I would allow myself to fantasize about a regicide that may never come to pass.
It was the vampire thing to do.
The second – the SECOND – I sauntered through the back office door of the court, I vamped through another doorway and into the room that housed Area Five's high-tech security station. The calloused pads of my fingers punched at the dials of each screen with such force that I cracked several buttons – little plastic flakes arcing through the air like fireworks. The live feed flickered onto the screens, and the red recording light began to blink.
I scrambled to ignite the sound of the tinny speakers, and listen in – my eyes and ears fixed on the unfolding scene.
"You scared of me, Miss Harding?"
Jameson intoned, his voice dripping with an excitement that caused my fangs to itch underneath my gums – my beast clawing at me, eager for a fight.
The blood fizzled and jolted violently in my veins as I watched the fucking bastard king reach towards the crook of Addy's neck – towards my marks – before halting his intrusion to roll his fingers through the air above pebbled scars marring her ivory-white skin. He said more, but my attentions had shut down – a possessiveness overcoming me. It whispered that I should rush to Addy and snatch her up bridal-style into my arms to launch us both into the night. To drink from her once more, feed her my essence, and make her mine. It mattered little that it was impossible.
I blinked slowly – my vision blurred red – closing my eyes for several seconds before opening them again, to push back the hasty, dangerous urge.
Thalia's sudden grip, her nails all but sinking into my flesh, also served to ground me once again.
"That sorta sounds like a threat though, doesn't it... what happened to the fur ball there. Word of advice between us, it isn't real self-preserving to ignore those, ya know..."
I heard Jameson ruminate slowly, before Compton so rudely interrupted the scene, sweeping into the small security room with a distracting slam of the door behind him.
I fucking hated this vampire, more than words could express.
I often fantasized about killing Bill.
"Yeah, I think ya are – scared of me…I'll tell ya a secret…"
"Oh my!" Bill exclaimed dejectedly in his exaggerated Southern drawl – his volume louder than speakered sounds, much to my ire – his grease-laden pointer finger pressing against the pixelated screen next to the image of Addy, who had begun to wrap her arms defensively around her waist, "That is the injured girl from the alley in New Orleans! She is your new sister?!"
I hated when people called her that; I had yet to determine why.
Other matters were more pressing
"You will regret it if you stick your nose where it is not wanted, Bill," I hissed with a challenging glower in my eyes and a rumbling growl in my throat, "but you can put it right up the King's ass – if it needs somewhere to go."
I turned my attentions back to the monitors, irritated – despite having the ability to replay the tapes later – that I had been momentarily distracted due to Compton's incessant chatter. Jameson was veritably breathing down Addy's neck, the sight of which stirred my beast once more. His ostentatious laughter that rang out – even through the thick walls, as he moseyed his way up the stage to plop down in my throne – threatened my resolve to maintain control and wait for an incontrovertible infraction.
"Enough is enough!"
I thundered, ripping my arm from Thalia's grasp to vamp out of the room before either of its occupants could move to stop me.
I was by the King in seconds, my fangs drawn and dripping with saliva – itching for blood.
"WHAT did you do to her?!"
I demanded at a raised volume, gesturing to Addy's motionless stance.
"Don't know what the fuck's wrong with her," Jameson said, denying any culpability for Addy's statue-like stance, as he shuffled down the stage steps – hands mockingly up in defeat – and towards the exit, "Here we were chatting like two consenting adults and all – and then she goes all catatonic and freaky on me. Mark my words, she's a whack-a-doo, that one there," He paused for a moment, his fingers curled like claws around the door jamb, "Best ya send her back to her maker 'fore anyone gets hurt."
I stifled the urge to call him out on his bullshit attempt to bring Addy's mental state into question.
But I had to admit the dead look in her eyes was fucking eerie.
I approached Addy like one would a rabid dog, palms up and opened, stepping towards her slowly and with purpose. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused like a pale-faced china doll molded by a craftsman. She looked veritably inhuman, and incontrovertibly still and dead – even for one actually among the undead. Her thoughts were obviously lost to the world – miles and miles away – as she hugged herself and muttered softly.
So quietly I could not hear her.
It was, for lack of a better term, upsetting.
After several attempts to capture Addy's attentions verbally, I grasped at her shoulder with intents to shake her away from whatever gripped her so tightly. She shrieked loudly, jumping from under my touch as if I had burned her. In a blur, she spun on her heel – her fangs clicking down with an audible snick – and bared her teeth, hands balled into fists and raised for a fight.
There she was, min lilla krigare.
"Addy, he is gone. You are safe. You are safe."
I soothed with a gentleness I had not realized I possessed – my words not unlike a prayer thanking the Gods, and for her benefit almost as much as mine.
My normally steely countenance faltering, I searched her cerulean blues for signs of life – or at least consciousness. As her gaze refocused – grabbing mine – I reached my hands timidly towards her face and cupped her cheeks. I worried she might flinch or jump, but she actually leaned into my touch and reveled in it. I did much the same. Outside volition, my thumbs began to brush against her smooth skin, pleasurable, spine-tingling sensations coursing throughout me at each sweeping touch.
Her eyes closed contentedly – without the pinch of a furrowed brow – accompanied by a slight smile made me wonder if she savored out interaction as much as I did.
I definitely hoped so.
"Are you okay?"
I exhaled the words – almost inaudibly – as I touched my forehead gently against hers, and my fingers fell to her waist, involuntarily tracing the hem of her thin grey tank top as I struggled to regain some semblance of composure.
I found myself overwhelmed by the spindles of electricity coursing through me and the presence of a disturbing emotion I could not place.
"No," she admitted despondently, her typically stoic and rigid artifice crumbling before my very eyes as she sobbed unreservedly – her control shattered and broken, "I'm really not."
Addy and I stood positioned like that for a short amount of time, my thumbs moving to draw tiny circles on the skin above her waistband, before I felt Godric's curiosity and confusion swell across our maker-child bond. Releasing one hand from her hip, I swept it into my pocket, pressing the side button up to reignite the sound on the technological device.
I cursed myself for ever silencing it in the first place.
In hindsight, it had been foolish.
It began to ring, twitching and jingling against my thigh, only seconds later. Not once – but twice – before I uncurled myself from Addy to answer it. She whooshed away without hesitation, slumping down in a seated position on the edge of the platform. Her eyes closed, bloody tears still streaming in tracks down her face, and she placed one hand against her chest – over the cavity containing her unbeating heart.
I could not help but notice she stole a sharp breath she did not need to take.
What the fuck did she do that for?!
"She is fine," I offered calmly, albeit quickly, in my native tongue, not sure if I even believed my own utterance, "I am..."
Godric cut me off, snarling at me – his fury barely caged.
"You have said that before!"
Before Addy had waltzed into his life, Godric and I had never been so at odds. We had been thick as thieves. Now it was as if I could do nothing right. In his eyes, I always seemed to be failing him – and her. It wore on me more than I would ever deign to admit.
Selfishly, I wanted things to return to how they were not even five years ago.
Before she disrupted our otherwise predictable nights.
"Ugh! Again with the freaking tongues!"
Addy muttered, her bloody tears ceasing unceremoniously as a narrowed glare settled in their wake – fixedly pointed in my direction.
I chased away the thought as Godric's feelings in our maker-child bond transformed – as if beckoned by a switch – from dark to light. Just the sound of her voice stilled his quelling rage, quieted his beast, and I was reminded why he had chosen her at all. She had made him happy. She had stopped him from wanting to meet the sun. She had reignited something within him he had lost a long time ago.
Perhaps that was what fairies did by nature.
Brought things back to life.
"What happened?"
Godric pressed at me, still continuing to translate his words despite Addy's evident frustrations at being excluded.
"Fader, it appeared to be nothing of consequence," I proceeded carefully, choosing my words wisely and with much deliberation as I tromped about the space, "merely pleasantries exchanged with the monarch of your state," I avoided using the an identifier like Texas – Texas could not be translated, "but he very much enjoyed being in her company, seeing her..."
Godric interrupted me, "I understand."
"Eric'll…"
I heard Addy whisper, her soft voice capturing my attentions – rarely did she use my actual name instead of Drew.
It seemed to mean something when she did, but I did not know what.
When I snapped my head in her direction, she raised her hand, cupping the speaker of her flip phone tightly against her mouth.
"Psst... psst... home, Alcide," was all I could discern.
"Fucking werewolf."
I groused audibly, not caring if she heard me or if her moony-eyed dog friend did either for that matter.
I hated Alcide Herveaux, on principle, and principle alone – I told myself.
"When did they meet?"
Godric asked a couple of seconds later, curiosity unexpectedly rampant in his tone.
He does not mind that she runs with wolves?!
"Two weeks," I murmured sullenly, remembering how the dog had openly flirted with Addy despite the fact she had been at the carnival with me, and how she had gone runningaround the swamps with him every night since, "they met two weeks ago."
"Hmmm…" Godric hummed. Several minutes passed in silence before salutations were issued, signaling the end of our call, "Stay safe, broder. Good night."
"Good night, fader."
Although he had not stated plainly that Addy would be remaining in Louisiana – with me and Pam – for the unforeseeable future, he had not needed to.
My maker was clearly going to be busy orchestrating the not-so-untimely demise of the Texas King.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
The sun was low, nearly cusping against the horizon – I could feel it. Luckily the sun's position did not matter, my house was light-tight, guarded against the harsh and unmerciful rays of the violently burning star. It thankfully meant I could traverse the space with ease after rising early – a pleasant side effect of my vampire age.
Normally.
But not anymore.
As I opened the door to my chamber, I was met by the soft whimpers and cries I had been reintroduced to in the week since Addy's confrontation with Jameson. I huffed my annoyance audibly, knowing there was no one else awake to hear me. I had assumed we were done with this shit. I could barely fathom how a paltry span of time talking to someone – albeit an enemy – had undone weeks' worth of progress.
She had regressed beyond comprehension, hovering about the house like the ghost of the girl who had practically thrown herself into me on the Tilt-a-Whirl at the carnival. The one who had befriended a dog, and urged Pam and I to fuck. That girl was gone. The glimmering spark of life had drained from her deep blue eyes, tinting them almost gray. For once, I was at a loss. I did not know how to handle her swift descent into yet another depression.
But she was not my child to mollycoddle, so I left her to her own devices.
Which in hindsight may have been a mistake.
I quickly crossed the balcony towards Addy's room, telling myself it was the maker's command that compelled me to check on her. As I neared her temporary space, the noises became more pronounced – intelligible bits intermingled with sleep-slurred utterances. Who was Henry? I made a mental note to ask Pam to sleuth out the information because, despite Addy's mad lib-like dialogue, it was plain that whoever he was, she wanted to keep him at bay. Reaching the closed threshold, I instinctively reached for the knob, pulling my hand back as I remembered how silly my actions were.
There was no need to waste the time trying to gain entry; the door would be locked.
It was always locked, or at least it always had been.
I palmed the brass fixture anyway, as I had too many times before. I twisted the object, hearing the expected click as the rod receded. The sound meant nothing; the deadbolt was the issue, residing inches higher – accessible from the inside. I pulled at the wooden barrier, waiting to hear the usual thud that signaled my denied entry, but it gave way without impediment – swinging open towards me. Instantly I considered shutting it, my gut screaming at me to do anything but walk inside.
Instead, I found myself in Addy's room, with the door closed behind me.
"No, Henry! Please, NO! I'll be good! I'll be good!
Addy mumbled shakily over and over as she thrashed lightly from side to side, her golden blonde hair splayed about the pillow and stuck to her blood-covered face – tears spilling from her eyes without measure.
I stifled the gasp that threatened to erupt from my throat as I took in the state of her dark-stained sheets. I felt a strange feeling swim in the pit of my stomach knowing Addy had been sleeping night after night sheathed under cloth covered in her own dried blood. I kicked the odd emotion away, moving to the edge of the bed before sinking down beside the flailing child of my maker.
Her face was pinched and pained, her lips sleep-swollen and trembling.
She looked like hell, and yet… like heaven.
Her alabaster skin glowed subtly despite the lack of luminescence, the room bathed in darkness. She looked ethereal – or like a fairy. Perhaps she had retained her fairy nature even after the turn. Maybe that is why she dreams. Her weight shifted on the bed as she continued to murmur and sob, the small quakes of the mattress reaching my own form and snaking through my nerves. Suddenly – her eyes never opening – Addy threw the sullied sheets away from her, jolting completely upright before falling back down. She had not worn the pajamas I had come to know and loathe. In fact, her choice of dress left little to the imagination, and I unintentionally studied her naked flesh with slightly widened eyes.
I was not pleased at all by what I saw.
Because she carried many more marks than just mine.
My rough fingers involuntarily twitched, chills racing through them, as they traced the worst of her scars, which were collected about her left forearm. My beast growled lowly within me, itching to destroy something. Why had Godric not spoken of this!? Who THE FUCK was Henry!? Had HE done this to her!? I wanted to rip the unidentified Henry limb from limb, and I felt bloodlust swell within me, my eyes clouding black. My hand traveled as my mind wandered, trailing down her side – lightly brushing the curve of her supple breast – to touch the raised lines on her exposed stomach. My attentions returning, I realized it was painstakingly quiet. Sometime during the exchange, Addy's nightmare-induced mutters had ceased, and the tight furrow in her brow had smoothed into a serene expression.
I was glad at least one of us felt at ease.
Because my veins were boiling – barely caged fury alit within them.
"Eric…"
Addy whispered softly, uncertainty claiming her tone as her red pouty lips exhaled my name in a way I had fantasized about more times than I would ever admit.
It was enough to completely bring me to my senses and shake off the angry beast consuming my inhibitions and driving my actions. I launched myself away from her and towards the door in a blur. There was zero chance she had woken up – she was too young to rise this early – but still a feeling not unlike shame welled up within me. Without cause or reason, I mentally catalogued a whole slew of excuses I might make for being in her space, for breaching the threshold while she was in her most vulnerable state – just in case. I stifled the urge to groan; Godric would accept none of them if he ever found out what I had done.
Why had I come in here, even after telling myself not to?!
Why could I not fucking control myself around her!?
"Bite… me…"
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Was she dreaming… of New Orleans?
The relief that swamped me felt more suffocating than the guilt.
I stole from the room at vamp speed, knocking the door against the jamb as I exited – acutely aware the loud bang could possibly rouse her from her daydeath. I refused to process what had just transpired, or believe I had heard her correctly. That she would be dreaming about that night. That the tone in her voice had betrayed a fondness for the memory.
Because just about everything that had happened that night, and after…
…had been like a waking nightmare for me.
"So what's the good news, Eric?"
Pam inquired gleefully from her seated position at the kitchen island, switching to our customary Swedish as she heard Addy's socked feet descending the grand staircase.
"Godric has aligned with Stan Davis of Texas' Area Two, who will rule the state in Jameson's absence," I responded in the same language, refusing to even turn my head in Godric's child's direction as she swept into the space. I listened to the fridge door lurch, and the jangle of clinking glassware, before I continued, "He expects the King's death to go down in a few weeks' time. He will come get Addy after things are…"
"Wait? What!?" Pam interrupted me, her irritations apparent and a veiled whine in her voice, "I can't keep playing babysitter every night!" She clacked her nails one by one, from pinky to pointer, against the countertop, "She was bad before, but now that you won't let her leave the house? She's fucking intolerable!"
Intolerable.
That was one fucking word for it.
"Then consider yourself free from your burdensome obligation," I responded coolly, my tone reeking of displeasure mixed with a hint of sarcasm, "Thalia will watch Addy, and you..."
I paused, debating whether to punish Pam for disliking our forced charge or let it go.
It was not as if she had asked for any of this. Addy took this beat to vamp from the space – presumably back to her room, her tip-toed ascent up the stairs still audible. Despite the distance – and translated speech – I hushed my next words, knowing Addy would recognize the name if she heard it.
I did not want to have to explain how I knew it and why it vexed me.
Confess to what I had seen.
"…you will use your freed up time to find out who the fuck Henry is to Addy."
I demanded, spitting out his name as if it was poison in my mouth.
"That's it?" Pam exclaimed, her jaw dropping momentarily in surprise, which prompted me to furrow my brow and narrow my eyes, "Oh, Eric, if you lift your command that I 'don't discuss Addy or any of the shit I learned about her'," she finger-quoted, "while she was hospitalized, I can tell you right now exactly who Henry is to Addy."
So I removed the command, hoping to quell my lurking beast – satiate his thirst for blood, for revenge. He was thrilled at the prospect of mortally wounding someone who had possibly done far worse to Godric's child. But as it turned out, my dark passenger would forever remain indignant, frustrated and unsated.
Because Henry was Addy's father.
And unfortunately for me that fucker was already dead.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
"Sheriff Northman," Sophie Anne greeted through the tinny speaker on my cellular, after phoning out of the blue almost two weeks later – the subsequent conversation unscheduled and wholly unexpected, "use your burner to call me back on mine."
Then she hung up.
Pulling the untraceable cell phone from the mahogany desk drawer in my Area Five office, I dialed the Queen's unlisted number – obliging her request.
"I'll cut to the chase, Northman," She said without preamble, her forever teenaged voice slightly undercutting her authoritative tone, "I know your maker is in bed with Stan Davis to take over the Texas state. I know because I am too. Not literally, of course," Sophie Anne most certainly preferred female bedmates above all others, "but each of us has our own reason for wanting Jameson to meet the true death."
I grunted my agreement gutturally.
There was no use in trying to refute what the Queen knew to be true.
"Your maker's reason, though…" She continued, "That's the one that's pretty fucking dumb, if you ask me. He's risking all your lives by killing his King – exposing his biggestweakness – and for what? Because the fucktard made a pass at his newest child? We all fuck like bunnies, including your maker, but she's what? Special? Untouchable? Because showing the world that… will make her an easy target. For anyone – for EVERYONE – who wants to hurt him. And you know that your maker is not without his fair share of enemies."
It was not as if I had not considered the possibility myself, but Godric believed he could protect her from anything – from everything – by brute force alone.
I, for one, did not agree that it was a smart stratagem, or the kind of life she deserved.
"What are you suggesting instead?"
I inquired unemotionally, breaking the weighty silence to join what had quickly become a one-sided exchange.
"I'm so glad you asked," Sophie Anne mused languidly, "You see, Texas has something I want – the one they call the 'rogue vampire' – and I would be so inclined to accept full responsibility for Jameson's true death if you secure her for me, for Louisiana."
"Why?"
I queried – a hint of disbelief discernable in my tone – very much not expecting a straightforward response, if I got one at all.
"She is Bill's maker – Lorena… and one of my own weaknesses, if you must know…"
I was shocked, floored in fact – my expression mirroring the sentiment – not that anyone would ever know it.
My office was camera and bug-free; I swept it daily.
While I had always kept my ears fully open, I was careful never to stick my nose where it did not belong. I mostly played it cool, and worried about myself and my child. So I had not put together two and two, or spied the connection between the Queen and the prisoner in Texas. I had not considered that Sophie Anne's continual stalemates during her marital negotiations had been purposeful – that she was simply buying time.
Just like Godric had been the past couple of weeks.
She prattled on, ignoring my silence.
"…But that is not how we will play this. That jackass has been trying to bullying me for years now, and all the vampire council will hear about is how I was fed up with his bullshit. That I was fucking tired of him questioning my strength, the power of our state. If your maker is agreeable, that is the story, and we are sticking to it," She paused for a moment, her tone becoming more serious and solemn, "I trust that I can trust you, Sheriff Northman. Do NOT make a fuck of me... I'm not the only one who will suffer if you do."
Again, she hung up without ceremony.
Of course, she did.
It was the vampire thing to do.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
After more debate than I would have preferred, Godric had agreed to align with the Queen of Louisiana, to let her take the glory – and blame – for the plot to overthrow the Texas King.
"But I will not release the rogue vampire – the woman who maimed several humans in my Area without impunity. That condition you must satisfy yourself, broder."
He had stated, offering no room for argument – not that I would have brooked one. I understood my place in the exchange, what I needed to do to stay loyal to my maker, but also my state. My maker had a duty to protect his progeny, and now I had one to protect the rogue vampire – Lorena.
So after I put a few affairs in order, I kissed Pam goodbye and launched myself into the starry sky, towards Texas.
No more waiting; it was time to kill that fucking King.
I stood next to Godric in the great room of his nest, itching for a fight – my sword sheathed underneath my clothes and strapped to my back. It had been a long time since she had been wielded in battle – too long – and now that the time was upon us, adrenaline was spiking like fire in my veins.
The temperate air was practically vibrating with anticipation, with excitement.
Godric had continually tried to send me calm over our maker-child bond – misinterpreting the feelings he was receiving from me – but I had rejected it over and over. I finally placed a calloused hand on his shoulder, garnering his attention, and gave him a small shake of my head.
Stop. I want to feel this way, the gesture said.
And I did; it kept me cautious – alert.
"It's almost like a goddamn family reunion up in here then," Jameson boomed as he strode into the room, dressed as always in his signature blue-grey suit. He was flanked by his second, Isabel, with Sabine padding along – a few feet behind, "But where's that sweet chick-a-dee? She just hiding 'round the bend? Don't tell me ya left that little bit back 'cross state lines there."
Of course, I had left her in Louisiana, but Aaron had been led to believe otherwise.
He presumed he had won, and already it was throwing him off his game.
What a fucking idiot.
"She is upstairs unpacking," Godric lied smoothly, before turning to face me, "Thank you for bringing her back to me, my son. I hope she was no trouble," He paused as if in thought, "Have you fed yet this evening? Has she?"
I had earlier enjoyed libations, consuming twice my usual fill in preparation for this evening's events, but still I answered in the negative.
"No, broder…"
"Well come the fuck on then!" Jameson interrupted, with a mischievous grin that spoke volumes, "Go get that sister of yers and let's have ourselves a freakin' party!"
Godric nodded to me, indicating the task was to be my own. I returned the gesture respectfully before vamping from the great room and up the wooden staircase. I paused at the door, allowing myself a moment to smile before steeling my expression and throwing open the door.
Everything was going according to plan.
"It is time."
I stated evenly, the smallest hint of excitement discernable in my tone.
Because while Addy may not have been in Godric's living space, it was most certainly occupied.
We noisily bounded back down the stairs – my entreated guest and I – intentionally capturing the attentions of the Texas King, who chose to yell out from the other room.
"Miss Hard-ing," Jameson sing-songed, uncaged glee rich in his tone – his guard notably down, "come out, come out from wherever ya are."
I casually waltzed back into the space by myself, my swaggering gait languorous and full of bravado – a keen display of showmanship.
A satisfied smile tugged at my lips as Aaron furrowed his brow, visibly confused by the fact I had entered alone.
"Sorry to disappoint, cabron, but she's not here right now. That girl's not yours to worry 'bout anymore," Stan declared loudly in his Texas twang with a glint in his eye, after vamping into the nest's great room to face the now open-mouthed King, "In fact, she's the least of your worries."
This was the best part, aside from actually delivering the King's true death.
Letting that smug bastard realize how truly he had fucked himself.
"You?" Aaron said incredulously, obviously surprised and off-put by Stan's presence, "What the FUCK are you doing here? Ohhh," he mused, quickly catching on to what was going down, "Got it. This here's a fucking mutiny then. Ha!" he laughed, slapping his leg, "What a crock of bullshit this is then. You fuckers come inta MY nest and think you've got the fucking numbers to beat me? HA!"
He motioned with a wave of his hand for Isabel, who had deftly widened the berth between them, to handle Stan, but she simply shook her head.
Her true loyalties were now exposed and plain.
"What the fuck is this then!? Switching sides like a goddamn Benedict Arnold!" Jameson spat out at Isabel, taking a threatening step forward towards his now-resigned Sheriff, "Y'all all got your damn minds warped over this shit! That fucking girl spun tales to ya then," the King shouted exasperatedly, noticeably irate by tone and expression – his limbs waving animatedly into the air, "Told ya I been botherin' her and such. Is that why you're suddenly so keen to defect? That bitch's been aching for me. Ya know it. Ya just don't fucking like it, old man."
Aaron's stare was fixed deliberately on Godric, a finger pointing accusingly at his chest – the distance far-stretching between them.
As if it could not be closed quickly, which of course it could be – and was.
"DO NOT SPEAK OF MY DOTTER THAT WAY!"
Godric roared as he charged at Jameson, his face contorted in rage and his fingers curled into claws.
The King bellowed loudly for his nestmates, urging them to take up arms – crying like a banshee for backup.
Pandemonium broke out not long after that.
The chaotic scene was practically a blur.
Blows were traded without measure, blood spraying in all directions from injuries sustained in the heart of the heated battle. The other Area vampires, those beholden to the nest, had joined at the King's beck and call, fighting against our group and supposed traitors – like Isabel and Sabine – as loyalty lines were drawn.
I had unsheathed my sword from my back, striking at anyone who came within a foot of me – watching them turn to dust as Godric battled, a short distance away, against the King.
"Ya like fucking that Berzerker's pussy so much ya don't wanna share? Is that it?!" Jameson taunted, as he and Godric flew at each other in hand-to-hand combat, "She that fucking sweet?!"
I saw my maker's pupils blow black in my peripheral, his beast overtaking him, and he grabbed at Aaron's lapels, ripping them off as the King vamped himself across the room. Aaron threw his head back and laughed, like a fucking hyena. He was trying to bait Godric, throw him off his game, but of course it was only serving to make him fiercer, push him further into bloodlust.
He looked monstrous and feral – his eyes wild and full of fire – like a bedeviled creature escaped from hell simply toying with his food before he devoured it.
Like the vampire who had turned me while claiming to be Death incarnate.
Having dispatched my latest foe – a thin sheen of dust bespeckling my clothes – a sandy haired vampire charged at me, yelling loudly in what I assumed was his native tongue. His short stature forced me to weave and jump to dodge his fumbling blow and deliver a more deadly one of my own. I took a beat to glance about the cloudy room after easily besting my unskilled opponent, noting the flurried swirls of action had greatly decreased in number.
The resulting display rivaled that of a sandstorm.
Had any of us an inducement to breathe, we would have surely choked to death.
Stan was now playing watchman, leaning against the doorjamb, willing but uneager to join the fray. He made short work of those who wandered his way but was otherwise digesting the scene, taking it all in. His passive behavior was to be expected, after all this was Godric's fight - even if the historical record would not capture it as such. Stan was here on pretense alone, for show.
So was I, for that matter.
Or at least that was what I kept telling myself.
"Yeah, ya like fucking that daddy's girl, I bet ya," the King spewed venomously, a smirk overtaking his bloodied, bruising countenance as he barely sidestepped one of Godric's breakneck fisted-strikes, "Just like ol' Grabby McWhat's-his-nuts," he gestured as if searching his mind for the name. He snapped his fingers when it came to him, "Henry!"
I rarely lost control, but the mention of that name was all it took.
Predacious and unrestrained, I snarled my burning rage like a wild animal, my claw-like fingers gripping the hilt of my sword tight.
"No, Henry! Please, NO! I'll be good! I'll be good!"
Suddenly, it was all I could hear – Addy's anguished cries for mercy – as the scene before me melted away like candlewax into a red-tinged puddle of goo.
Bloodlust.
Swish. Swish swish… poof!
Blood… carnage … revenge…
"NO! Anything but that, Eric! Please, oh please DON'T take me to the hospital!"
The sight of her white creamy skin marred by angry, deep scars flashed obtrusively through my mind.
Gurgling guttural growls…
AHHHHHHHHHHHH! – poof!
"Bite me…" She whispered sweetly, her jingling voice as soft as a whisper in the wind.
Glancing down, min lilla fairie lay sticky with blood, clutched in my arms – her body twitching as death tried to grip her tight.
BAM!
I howled in pain as something sharp connected with the joint of my shoulder, ripping me back into reality. As the crimson haze receded in my vision, I spied Jameson before me, his own armament in hand and grinning like a fucking Cheshire cat. Our swords met with an echoing clank, and I growled loudly as I pushed him back. I donned an attack stance, preparing to strike him. I ignored the limp arm that swung involuntarily at my side – that had been all but severed from my body.
I did not let it faze or impede me in the slightest.
In this moment, it was an ancillary appendage, plus I had no doubts it could be reattached.
"Le-gen-dary Eric fuckin' Northman, ladies and gentlemen," Aaron enthused, pointing out the sorry state of my arm to the few allies he still had left, "Falling right off his fuckin' high horse and for what? Some damaged, crazy-ass philly, that's fuckin' what."
He straightened his empty hand out in front of him – demonstrating that it was uninjured – and curled his grouped fingers back and forth into his palm.
"NOW it's a party!"
He shouted in an excited tone, the motion clearly stating, 'Come fucking at me.'
The uproarious laugh that erupted from my throat at his pitiful efforts to intimidate me was hearty and deep.
I wanted that fucker to know that I was more than happy to oblige.
My sword clanged to the ground as I charged at him. Grabbing his still curled fingers, I vaulted him upwards and into the plastered ceiling, little snowflake-like pieces falling around him as he slammed back into the stone floor. I was on top of him in milliseconds, delivering blurring blow after blow to his pretty-boy face until it mushed like pulp under my knuckles. He thrashed beneath me, his limbs shooting haphazardly in all directions, trying to toss me aside – but to no avail.
"Are you scared of me, Aaron?"
I whispered menacingly, repeating the words he had said to Addy – his swollen eyes widening in fear as he realized his threat had not gone unnoticed.
As his outlandish and brash façade finally melted away.
"Yes, I think you are – scared of me," I continued, enjoying this moment far more than almost any that had come before, "I will tell you a secret…"
Jameson stilled beneath me as I clasped my uninjured hand on the side of his battered face, my nails sinking into his scalp – earning a small, but pronounced yelp. I leaned in, my fangs peeking out from under my lips, his nose mere inches from my own. Then, I murmured almost inaudibly, but not quite, "You should be."
Then I twisted hard – savagely – extricating his head clean off his body.
Poof, he blasted away into dust.
As the King disintegrated, Stan pushed back off the wall and sauntered towards the center of the room, both Isabel and Sabine trailing closely behind.
I rose to my feet and stepped aside, giving him a respectful nod – to display I did not want the kingdom for myself – as he passed me.
We had done our part, and now it was time for him to do his.
Godric quirked a single brow, begging a question I had no interest in answering – at least not fully.
Why did you shove me away and confront the King? – his expression inquired.
"I was not in my right mind."
I mumbled through gritted teeth, as I bent down awkwardly so that the little elvish doctor could inspect my laceration.
Even from hundreds of miles away, Addy had managed to crawl under my skin and distract me.
For once, I knew exactly how I felt about that – annoyed.
"Whatever happened to that fairy girl – your future child – the one that gave him the Blight?"
Ludwig asked Godric casually, as she peered through her thick, magnifying spectacles to survey the damage to my arm.
"She has become my newest child."
He answered proudly, our maker-child bond echoing the sentiment.
"Is she here?" she replied enthusiastically, near elation gripping her usually pinched expression, "I've been scouring the annals, digging into the books, and I found an obscure and long-buried case about a hybrid…" She practically tripped over her words they spilled out so quickly, "I just… I'd love to get to examine her, see if everything took, so to speak."
I parted my lips, but closed them just as quickly – keeping my opinions and concerns to myself.
It was not my place to discuss Godric's child's peculiarities.
"She is vampire and that is that! Now do what you came to do, and fix him."
Godric responded brusquely before vamping from the room.
"Well that's that, I guess," she grumbled sarcastically to herself, as she affixed my injured shoulder into a sling from her perch atop the counter I was leaning against, "So what's her stake in all this? Did you kill that bastard of a King for her?"
"No!" I clipped out gruffly, almost too quickly to pass for the truth, intentionally flinching under her ministrations to fault my exclamation on the pain, "Jameson was attempting to strong-arm Queen Sophie Anne into a contractual marriage. She refused to let his bullshit weaken her state, so instead she weakened his. I merely acted as her weapon."
It was the official version of events that would be filed with the vampire council.
The story I would be doomed to repeat for an eternity.
"Well next time, try harder not to get yourself hacked at, Northman. You nearly lost this arm. As it stands, that wound will need at least a couple of weeks – and some of your maker's blood – to knit together properly. All in all, I'd say you got very lucky."
No, what I had gotten was sloppy – careless.
Pam was going to be pissed.
She had been pissed, immeasurably so.
"Pam, I will return to Louisiana shortly – as soon as I have healed enough to fly."
"Okay, Eric."
She hung up after that, but I could feel her anger quake across our bond, overwhelming it. I debated calling her back, but dismissed the notion. I told myself she was not a human child that needed to be fussed over. Pam simply needed time to process what had happened.
Not too long after, her rage was replaced by contentment bordering on satisfaction.
Foolishly, I worried she had tempered her wrath by spending copious amount of my money shopping online for designer clothes and shoes.
Much later, I found myself wishing that she had done that instead.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
"Sophie Anne called to discuss what you did for Lorena and Bill."
Godric stated as he entered the living room space, and I grimaced at the mention of that brown-noser's name.
While freeing Compton's maker had provided a plausible cover story for the reason behind the King's timely death, I would never be a fan of that whiny-ass vampire. I detested the fact I had done him a favor – even if only by proxy. I could not wait for him to leave Area Five and go back to the Queen's palace.
I imagined it would be any day now.
Gods, I hoped so.
"She would like to offer you a position as Lieutenant in her court," I stifled the urge to groan, she had been trying to relocate me to New Orleans for decades, "She also asked me to relay the message that Bill has been tasked to send one of his finest procurements to aid in your speedy recovery. She said Bill is – his words – 'tickled pink' that everything went as planned."
I settled further back against the dark leather cushion, allowing myself to sink down in an effort to support my still-tender shoulder. Tonight, I had finally been given the go-ahead by Dr. Ludwig to remove that fucking off-white sling. It had inhibited my motions for the past couple of days, and irritated me to no end. It was a nuisance I hated to suffer, and my bad mood had not been concealed.
It now lay in shreds at the bottom of a trash receptacle in Godric's nest.
I had to destroy the vexing garment – it was the vampire thing to do.
"Tickled pink?" I chuckled, wondering if Bill was more Southern belle than gentleman, stuck on the turn of phrase, "seriou…"
The word died in my throat as Thalia unexpectedly vamped into the room through the open-aired doorway. My mind scrambled to make sense of her presence, my countenance involuntarily awash with concern. I pushed up off the seat, lifting halfway to look for Addy, who I prayed would be entering hot on the heels of her designated bodyguard.
But she did not.
"What are you doing here, Thalia?! Where is Addy?!"
I demanded through gritted, fanged teeth, shooting to my feet to stare down the little Greek vampire – despite the throbbing pain that shot through my shoulder.
The soft tear suggested I had done my recovering self no favors.
Fuck!
Thalia flopped down on the opposite side of the couch from where I had been sitting, ignoring my threatening display and making herself right at home. She snatched the remote from the middle seat and powered on the wall-mounted TV. All the while, Godric and I glared at her, our eyes veritably trying to burn a hole straight through her.
If looks could kill, she would have burst into flames, or dust.
Thalia flipped the channel to a fùtbol match, and her head bobbed along to the gameplay as she replied dispassionately.
"Pam attack. She run. I make safe."
I inhaled sharply, and haggardly released the useless breath, my skin practically searing from the hot rage in my blood.
The fury roiling off my maker only served to further ignite the near-blistering heat.
My British brat of a child was just itching for a punishment it seemed.
"Safe where, Thalia?"
"In swamp."
Thalia grinned wide, flicking her brown chocolate eyes from the screen to mine, her crooked Cheshire smile beaming with unbridled pride before expounding further.
"Safe, chained and buried in swamp."
Fuck.
Clods of dirt and mud cascaded into the air in jagged sheets, spreading like fireworks before plodding against the wet, grassy earth.
Cicadas screeched their cacophonous songs as the area wildlife skittered about guardedly – no doubt unnerved by our intrusion. Standing next to the half-dug hole, Godric and I continued to monitor Pam's progress as Thalia bounced excitedly nearby. Her amusement was uncaged and pronounced; I had never seen her act this way.
She was inordinately pleased with what she had done – silvering and burying Addy in the Twelve Mile Bayou to safeguard her from harm.
So fucking proud of herself.
"You had better be right this time."
I hissed loudly at Thalia, not bothering to hide my irritations at her earlier insistence that this was definitely the burial site.
My distrust had been earned.
Because Pam had already dug nine holes.
While I appreciated that part one of Pam's punishment for attacking Addy had been prolonged, I could tell that my maker was becoming impatient and increasingly tense. His maker-child bond with her was disquietingly silent – as usual – so he desperately wanted her in his sights, to see with his own eyes she was okay. His anger, and fear, had heightened with each failure to produce the dotter he had risked everything for.
Conversely, I felt guilty, because this was all my fault.
I had chosen to leave Addy in the crazy little vampire's care.
As Godric began to pace and wring his hands – a disturbingly human display – my child reared back the shovel again and sank it into the loose soil. Thump! Never had I heard such a beautiful sound ring out into the night. Thank the fucking Gods! – I thought, my eyes gazing up towards the sky.
Finally, metal had struck wood.
We had found her.
xXxXxXxXx Present Day xXxXxXxXx
The cloud of relief at seeing the unearthed coffin had disintegrated instantly once the clumsily-affixed lid had been pried open.
Because she was not there.
The pine box had been unoccupied, but not empty. It was filled with several thick, silver chains and one thin, sharp-tipped branch – a thin layer of fine dust blanketing the base. There was no evidence of a struggle, but there would not have been. The silver would have rendered her immobile, made defense impossible.
Godric had mumbled something about a sitting duck and fish being shot in a barrel.
I had never heard either idiom, but his meaning was not lost on me.
I could not say exactly how I had felt in that moment. But my maker had been crestfallen, and his eyes had brimmed with unshed, bloody tears before he had launched himself into the sky. I had left him to his own devices – he needed time alone – and stalked my way back to the house.
I had shrugged off Pam's multiple attempts to coddle me in the days that followed.
As it turned out, I had required time alone as well.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Some time went by, and Godric still could not feel in her in his blood…
And then, after a few weeks had passed – having respectfully declined Sophie Anne's offer – things for me just sort of… returned to their previous stasis, became routine again.
My nights reverted back to the way they had always been before.
Lifeless. Dull. Shades of gray.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
"Someone left a message for you."
Compton offered as I swept into the Area Five court, his hand extended and gripping an enveloped note, sealed at the back with a red, waxy mark.
"It was delivered today – before sunset," He clarified as I took the note from him, turning it over to examine the impressed seal – which was most certainly not official, "It seems our security set-up may be lacking," he admitted sheepishly, nervously running his hand through his greasy, overly-moussed bangs – as he was prone to do, "the cameras were ineffectual at identifying the messenger. But there was a strange blur of light before it appeared, so I suspect we had a power surge…"
Much to my chagrin, he blithered on and on about the systems and camera angles while I stomped my way up the few stairs to the dais. I slumped down onto the throne with the note still gripped tight in my palm.
"Bill!" I boomed, my patience cut short by his incessant droning, "Go fucking make yourself useful."
He harrumphed like a pouty human adolescent, but still spun on his heel and headed towards the back. He childishly slammed the heavy wooden door behind him.
He had his fucking maker back, so why he had not left yet I could not say.
But I also could not bring myself to care.
I eyed the white envelope suspiciously, glaring at it as though my icy gaze could force it to reveal its hidden message. The cursive penning of my name gave no hint to the identity of the sender. I flipped it over with my fingers, thumbing at the seal. The red wax mark was simple, as though the stamp had been carved by hand – a circle with a moonlike arc and a crude five-pointed star cut inside of it. It meant… something, I was sure of it. It screamed to be deciphered, to be detangled and decoded.
It inexplicably reminded me of Addy.
Aggravated and aggrieved, I tossed the offending parchment to the ground, its departure from my hand punctuated by a rumbling growl. It skittered across the stage, coming to a halt at the edge. I would deal with that unsolicited piece of bullshit later, I told myself.
But later came sooner than I expected.
Ding-a-ling ding!
The jingling tone signaled an incoming communication from another Area Sheriff. So I pulled my phone from its pocketed place to glance at the flashing screen – Godric. A tidal wave of emotion flooded me. I answered the call immediately, shocked and alarmed as I discerned that the feelings traveling over the bond were those of excitement, of relief. I wanted him to be happy, but this reversal was just bizarre.
He had been frantic, frenetic in his attentions, for weeks.
Since she had met the true death.
"Broder," Godric enthused in my native Swedish, unfiltered happiness belied by his tone, "there are no daisies!"
What?!
Had grief driven him to madness?
"There are no daisies!"
He repeated gleefully, his turn of phrase more confusing than illuminating – as though those four words should mean something to me.
"Read your letter."
Then he hung up.
My curiosity sufficiently piqued, I flew from my throne and snatched the note from its perched position. I tore up the glued flap, breaking the ciphered seal in two, and ripped out the single card. My eyes speedily scanned the salutation and the few words – Don't worry. I'm not pushing up daisies – and then widened slightly. I did not even try to tamp down the broad smile that overtook my countenance as a warmth not unlike relief coursed through me.
It did not matter that the note had been unsigned; I knew irrefutably who had sent it.
Because only one irriterande lilla fairie had ever dared to call me… Drew.
A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long, I'd like to pretend I was off gallivanting and living the good life, but this break was markedly the opposite. For several months now, I've been incredibly stressed and sad (for reasons I'd rather not discuss) and that's not a good or healthy combination for me – so I was neither good, nor healthy. It seems, like this story, I am also a work-in-progress. I'd like to say things have fully settled down, but what's the use in lying? They've gotten better, and for now that's enough.
Thanks for hanging with me, and there's definitely more to come! Probably another 11-12 chapters before we finish our time with this uncommunicative little vampire family. But where, oh where, has Sookie gone off to? That's the real question, isn't it?
