A/N: Wow, it's been a while. Sorry guys, I had a major block. (Not to mention four weddings, including one in Mexico. No, I'm not kidding, four, since September. I'm out of room for formal wear.)

Anyway, this is such a pivotal chapter, I wanted it to be just right. I rewrote it (and overworked it) a bunch of times and didn't like any of them. Then I took the advice of a fellow writer and just got over it. Tell me I didn't lose you, please! We're going uphill toward the climax of this little saga, and the ending is gonna be, in a word - "tokig." Stick around, the old Eric is just around the corner.

And remember, a writer who's patted on the back purrs like an inspired kitten. Hit that review button, give me MY FIX! I promise to update sooner, my juices are flowing again.

Also, I've added some translations at the end of the chapter. I usually don't, but this particular conversation is an important one.

As always, praise the creator, Ms. Harris.

Chapter Fourteen

I felt the boat slow down, then a gentle bump.

The engines silenced and I stood up from my protective squat on the floor next to Greta. The whole time I'd sat and waited in the closet, I kept whispering to her that she was going to be okay, that the full moon would heal her. She'd responded with a barely audible groan, her chest heaving under the coverage of my parka. Now, as I positioned myself between the door and her prone body, I let out a long breath and waited for them to come for me. I knew they would. I was, after all, part of the master plan. Holding a little bit of faery luck in my palm, I felt a power come from within me that had nothing to do with the cluviel dor. I felt control and courage. I felt confidence.

I was a fraud. I felt like I was going to shit my pants.

Eric and the rest of them didn't know it, but they were all now depending on me. I had absolutely no understanding of the power I held in my hand. Was it possible to change fate without there being any repercussions? My uncle had simply poofed away, after giving me minimal instructions. There had to be dangers, there always were when given such a golden opportunity. Would I lose my memories if I turned back time? How many lives would change if I wished someone out of existence? It couldn't be as simple as just making a wish.

Could it? My mind was spinning so fast I couldn't keep track.

No, no. I was in control. Breathe. Just breathe.

I stood there for a while, my game face slowly fading. It felt like an hour went by, but I knew from experience that time dragged like a ball and chain when being held captive. My hand got sweaty so I slipped the cluviel dor into my pocket, but I stood my ground. I could feel its warmth against my thigh, and it seemed to almost vibrate just being next to my skin.

With every passing minute, I felt the dawn approaching. I also felt a slew of emotions coming from Eric's still-battered psyche. His guard was down, frighteningly so. He was aware of everything around him and his emotions were going into overdrive. At first, he felt pure rage and anger, but it quickly turned into a screaming streak of panic. If he was human, he would've been having an anxiety attack. It had been so long since I had felt anything even close to this from him, I almost didn't know what to do.

I suddenly felt the approach of two human minds, so I tried my best to push Eric's emotions to the side and focus on the task at hand. The door opened and a pair of solider types stood in the doorway with overtly large guns pointed at me. They weren't shotguns or Glocks, so I didn't have a clue what they were holding, but they looked mildly threatening. Black Kevlar vests, combat boots, walkie-talkies strapped to their shoulders, the whole enchilada.

"Let's go," one of them said in a deep storm trooper-like voice. The other swung the tip of his gun at me, motioning for me to step forward.

"What about Greta?" I asked.

"Shut up," sneered the storm trooper. "Just walk, bitch."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. They were expendable human guards, nothing more. Glamoured to within an inch of their collective sanity, no name tags required. There was no point in taking offense.

I stepped in front of them and let them lead me to a gang plank on the other side of the boat. There was a small dock at the bottom, like the one Jason had out had the pond in front of this house. I kept my hands down where they could be seen, and hung my head low, but my eyes scanned the area and recorded everything. I took in as many details as I could in the waning darkness.

There was a lot of water still around us, and I could see sky over the horizon in front of me. We hadn't gone far enough to have crossed the Baltic Sea to Latvia, which was directly across from Kalmar, according to Sorren, and would have taken the better part of a day. I assumed we were on an island. Oland maybe - a large island I'd noticed on the maps. Yet as I looked around, I saw no signs of civilization. No ferry boats, no tourists. Just an old Jeep and a dirt road. Large expanses of low, rolling hills covered with flowing grasses and wildflowers. We were on private land, which meant there was no point in screaming. As usual.

Storm trooper guy roughly pushed me into the passenger seat of the Jeep while his side kick climbed in behind me, the muzzle of his gun dug comfortably into my neck. As we drove, the wind whipped at my skin and I was painfully aware of the fact that I was no longer wearing a coat. I could see frost glistening on the tips of the grass as we whizzed by.

After a few minutes of dreadful silence, we came up an open area with a mowed lawn and landscaping. The dirt changed to gravel and there was a large, expensive looking home in front of us. It had a the look of a farm house, only shiny and new. It was painted a golden yellow, with green shutters and a wrap-around porch. The driveway kept going and we drove past the house, beyond a lush backyard with a garden and veranda. It was beautiful, if not a strange mirage amid a sea of grass and scrub brush. There was also a small white barn next to a greenhouse, and a vegetable garden. Even a pool. Why the hell did Marcus need a pool? He didn't seem like the type to bother keeping his human minions stocked up with healthy snacks either.

We crested over a hill and the Jeep slowed down. A knot formed in my throat as we got close enough to confirm what I was sure I'd already seen. There, next to the side of the road like in an ol' west stick -up, my friends were waiting. Pam, Sorren, and Bill were on their knees, bound by wrist to ankle with silver shackles. Henrik was tied with mere rope, though the gum aimed at his back was enough incentive to keep him still.

The only one left unsecured was Eric. He stood apart, with his head held high, his hair loose and spiraling around in the sharp breeze. He'd been allowed to change and it appeared that he'd cleaned himself some. He looked arrogant and defiant and glorious, even though I knew he was a jumble of fear and confusion on the inside. The moment he saw me, being handled like a dangerous sack of potatoes, the confidence on his face began to crumble. When I gave him a tight smile and a wink, he blinked and seemed to quickly retained his stance. I'm fine, all is well, as he was fond of saying to me. He nodded curtly and stared ahead.

Storm trooper and side kick guy stood me in front of Eric, but at a distance. Then the doors of the SUV opened and Sergius and Marcus stepped out to join us. Marcus had that maniacal grin plastered over his face again. Sergius looked thuggish and bored. All of them looked completely unaffected by the fact that the sun was going to rise in twenty minutes.

"Well," Marcus said, rubbing his hands together. "Looks like we're all here now, doesn't it? What should we do, kids? Play a few games, get to know each other?"

"Just end this, Marcus," Eric said.

"What, so soon? We haven't even brought out any of the special guest stars yet."

"I give myself to you. Let the rest of them go."

"Fuck that, Eric!" Pam exclaimed. "Don't let this Roman pussy push you around."

Marcus was in front of Pam in a tick. He grabbed her face and I heard her jaw snap under the pressure of his fingers. He lifted her off the ground by the face, her skin pulling against the silver cuffs. She whimpered slightly, struggling against the gravity, but kept her eyes on his.

"Your maker should have taught you some manners, Pamela."

"Fuck you," she managed to slur.

He smirked, then threw her body over his head like a used tissue. "You would do wise to watch your mouth, young one," he said as he turned around to see her lying in a heap in the dirt. "I'll let Sergius figure out what to do with you. You won't need your mouth for anything he has in mind."

"Enough!"

Eric's voice rang through the air. All of our heads snapped in his direction as the scream carried away on the wind.

"Enough what?" Marcus yelled back. "I'll tell you when I've had enough! Did you think that after all this time I'd just let you drop to your knees? Did you think I'd let it be quick and easy?"

Eric barred his fangs and grabbed Marcus by the front of his shirt, but Marcus simply chuckled, smiling at Eric like he was indulging a child. "I'm not ready for that part of the game yet, Viking. I still have to do something with that one over there," he said, motioning to Sorren. "Maybe I'll let you two fight it out Thunderdome style. Two men enter, one man leaves. And then there's the little solider boy," he said with a flick of his head in Bill's direction. "Now, he's of no use to me at all. I'll probably just let him fizzle away out here in the back yard. Oh right, then I get to eat your girlfriend."

Eric growled deep in his chest and threw Marcus across the driveway. I'd seen him lob guys twice Marcus' size a hell of a lot further than that. I eyed Pam, who'd struggled back onto her knees. She shook her head and sighed, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. He wouldn't survive the fight.

Marcus stood up and brushed off his trousers, obviously not injured in any way. "Good, good! Feel that anger, grab hold of it. Let it consume you. En ondska lagas av värre, eh, Adilsson?"̈

Eric was seething, breathing in and out raggedly and barely holding himself still. "Du talar inte uttrycker av min fader!" he spat. He pushed Marcus with both hands on the chest and the other man toppled over, skidding to a halt in the dusty gravel.

Marcus slowly smiled as his fangs slid down.

What happened next was too fast for me to see. One instant Marcus was in on the ground. The next, he was standing in Eric's place and Eric was soaring through the air. He landed on the grass half way to the house with a stomach-turning thump. I yelped and ran toward him out of sheer reflex, but I found myself face down on the sharp gravel with a combat boot on my back before I even made it half way across the driveway. Now, my body had become fairly immune to the easy rough and tumble ways of human men by this point, and I also had a surge of faery blood spiked adrenaline just waiting to shoot itself into my brain. I felt pure anger, not fear, as I flipped over and dug my heel square into the balls of storm trooper guy. Side kick guy aimed his gun at my head.

"I want her unharmed, you idiots!" Marcus bellowed as he stomped over the grass.

Side kick looked up and it was all the time I needed. I put as much force into my foot as I could muster and kicked him in the knee. His leg bent backwards and I knew I'd broken something as he fell to the ground. I scrambled to my feet, only to be grabbed by Sergius. He pulled me by the back of my hair like a caveman and dragged me behind him.

Pushing me face-first onto the grass, Sergius leaned very close to my ear and managed to grope my breast on the slide as he whispered, "Too bad I won't get a taste first. But don't worry, Marcus will get bored of you after a few decades."

"I'm bored of you already, you dead piece of shit," I mumbled against the cold blades of grass. I knew I was really going to regret that eventually, but he settled for a quick nudge on my temple with the tip of his boot.

"Don't make me kick your ass in front of your woman, Viking." Marcus said in a bored voice as he viciously kicked Eric right where he'd been stabbed. Eric curled himself up defensively as he tumbled closer to the house. "And in your own back yard no less."

His own back yard? The words barely registered in my brain as I watched Eric being kicked over and over. He got to his knees, only to be kicked again. He managed to lift up his head and look my way, and I saw dismay and sympathy in his eyes. The pool, the garden, the house that looked so much like my own. I understood in an instant that Eric had built this place for me. I felt my resolve fading as he continued to get pummeled, but kept his eyes locked on mine.

Seeming to tire, Marcus finally backed away and said, "I think it's time to reveal guest number one."

Sergius opened the backdoor of the SUV. He reached in and lugged out a seemingly unconscious man. Carrying him by the back of his shirt and dragging him past my line of sight, I saw that it was the old man with the cats from Kalmar. He was badly beaten and covered in blood, the victim of the human stooges, no doubt. But why was he here now?

Sergius tossed his frail body in a heap onto the grass in front of Eric. Despite his own injuries, Eric immediately turned the man over and cradled him on his lap. He wiped the blood from his eyes and held his head still.

"Perr," Eric said softly. "Se mig, Perr."

No response. Eric looked up at Sergius. There was definite rage in his eyes and it was almost a comfort to see it. There was no doubting his feelings now. He was filled with unadulterated hatred. "You will die slowly for this," he seethed.

Sergius grinned, the tips of his fangs hanging out. "Ooooooo." He laughed and held his hands up in mock fear.

There was a sputtering sound and a cough, and the old man stirred. He tried to move but ended up shrieking and quaking with pain.

"Inte flythningen," Eric soothed. "Det ska är över snart."

"Jag har missat dig, farfar," the man wheezed. "De är alla döda."

"Nr, Perr," Eric sighed. "Det kunde inte hjälpas."

The man grabbed Eric's hand, his own hand trembling and barely able to hold on. "Krossa dem." he said. "Äta deras hjärtor."

Eric looked back up at Sergius, then to Marcus. "Jag ska."

The man's eyes closed and his body sagged against Eric's arms as he died. Grief etched itself on Eric's face for the second time that night. This man, Perr, had meant something to Eric. He wasn't just a crazy old man with a bunch of cats following him. I knew I'd felt something when I'd met him, something that went beyond feeling his thoughts. I wasn't afraid of him. In fact, despite the fact that he seemed totally crazy at the time, I'd felt nothing but good intention and honesty when I'd looked into his pale blue eyes. Eyes so much like Eric's.

Oh, Christ.

I looked over at the others. Pam had a long, bloody tear slowly falling down her cheek. Sorren whispered something in Swedish and bowed his head. Even Bill had a remarkable look of sadness on his face. He stared at me, his dark brown hair falling into his face as the breeze blew by. Were they so full of sorrow because of the loss of this man, or was it more to do with the fact that they were about to die? Or maybe because I was about to die.

Well, there wasn't much left to do then, was there?

I stood up, pretending to brush off the front of my clothes as I felt my pocket. The cluviel dor was still there, of course; I could still feel it humming away like a smooth bumble bee trapped within the folds of my pants. I marched straight over to Eric, who was still kneeling on the ground. Without delay, Sergius was on me, grabbing my upper arm like he owned me.

"Get off me!" I shouted, my voice chock-full of vehement rage.

"Let her be," Marcus said.

I seemed to be amusing him again, but I didn't care in the slightest. I wasn't playing by his rules anymore.

I yanked my arm out of Sergius' grip without sparing either one of them a second glance and knelt beside Eric. Gently placing my hands on his arm, I whispered his name. He blinked, letting me know he was listening.

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Peter, Perr. I called him Perr."

"I met him, yesterday in the square. He was nice to me, he knew who I was."

"We talked about you often."

I let out a sad sigh, and had to force myself to ask, "Who is he, Eric?"

Eric's broad chest deflated and his shoulders slumped as he said, "He was the last living descendant of my bloodline. He called me grandfather."

I closed my eyes, only for a moment, and felt a flood of anguish rush into me from Eric. I looked down at Perr and felt my own sorrow as well. And I wondered about the cats, strangely enough. What had become of the fluffy cats with the intelligent green eyes?

"Run, Sookie," he said in the most hushed voice he could manage. I could just barely hear him above the whistle of the wind.

"No."

"I won't be able to hold them off long. Take a jeep, try to get to the boat."

"I'm not leaving without you," I insisted. "Or the others."

"Our lives are forfeit now. They knew that from the beginning."

"No," I cried, my voice rising. "He wants me. He'll kill you if I leave."

"He'll kill me anyway."

"Oh, he's right about that," Marcus agreed cheerfully, clearly having heard every word we said. "I think it's time for the big reveal, don't you? Special guest number two."

Eric and I both stood up as Marcus pointed to the back door of the farm house. I quickly grabbed Eric by the hands and forced him to look at me. "Do you remember what you said to me the night you left?"

"What?" he asked, looking over my shoulder.

"Look at me, Eric. You gave me your vow."

That got his attention.

"That we'll be together, in this realm or the next," I reminded him.

His eyes narrowed a bit as he nodded. "Of course I remember."

"Good, 'cause I'm about to test your theory."

"Sookie..."

I heard the sound of a screen door close. Sergius pulled me away from Eric just in time for both of us to turn around and see who was standing on the back porch. Her flaxen hair was long and flowed over her shoulders in luxurious waves. She was tall and willowy, even for her age. Eight, if I remembered correctly. She had the face of a child, but her skin was pale as the full moon and she wore a creamy mushroom-colored silk kimono. Her glacial eyes shone with a fierceness I'd recognize anywhere.

"Freyja." Eric's voice broke like glass.

She stared at Eric, her expression unchanged. No one moved. Time seemed to slow down for a moment as we all watched them.

Blood tears welled under his eyes. He cleared his throat nervously and took a tentative step forward. "Uh, I am -"

"I know who you are," she replied quickly. She wasn't happy to see him, nor was there anger in her voice. She was merely stating a fact. She padded down the steps on silent feet, the fabric of her robe silently rippling around her. The old ones were always slinky like cats.

I couldn't help but stare at her, which she of course noticed. She glanced in my direction as she passed me. I took a deep breath and smiled one of my craziest smiles ever, a I'm-your-step-mom-please-don't-kill-me type of smile. She rolled her eyes and kept walking. Pre-pubescent vamp or not, that was girl body language for bitch, I do not like you.

She stopped when she was an equal distance between Eric and Marcus, and they all stared at each other like they had all the time in the world. Rays of muted sunshine were cresting over the top of the house. Bill and Pam, being the youngest, were already starting to smoke.

Marcus held his hand out to her. "Come my child." And she curled up under his arm like a baby bird under its mother's wing, all the while gazing at Eric, looking exactly like a curious child should look.

It took me exactly half a second to realize that Marcus was her maker.

"Alright then," Marcus said. "We don't have time for proper introductions. Freyja, Daddy. Daddy, Freyja."

Eric was speechless. The tears ran freely down his face, but I knew he was a jumble of rage and fury that was about to boil over. He wanted to rip Marcus to shreds. Like a vampire sniper, I imagined him trying to sort out how he'd do it without hurting Freyja.

"I really wish we had more time," Marcus went on with a saccharine sweet smile. "But we'll just make do, right? Now pay attention, because here's where it gets real tricky. I'm going to let you make a choice. Which one of them lives to see another night? Your fairy princess, or your long lost daughter?"

The ambivalent look on Freyja's face changed in an instant, and she moved out of his embrace. "What?"

Marcus reached out and squeezed her tiny body back against his own, holding on to her like a wriggling toddler. "I must warn you, she's a tad on the feisty side, should you decide to take up fatherhood. She's bit me on more than one occasion, though I can't say I didn't beat the utter and complete shit out of her afterwards."

"Marcus," Freyja squealed, twisting under his arm and pulling at his elbow. "You never -"

"Shut up now, dear," Marcus said, squeezing her even tighter. Her tiny fangs dropped and she clawed at his sleeve. This clearly wasn't what she's been expecting.

The muscles in Eric's neck bulged as he began to lunge at him. But Marcus was still faster, and had a silver blade at Freyja's throat before Eric even had his foot off the ground. Freyja's eyes widened in horror and she looked to me. "This is all your fault!" she cried.

"Come on now, old boy. Whose it gonna be? You can't have your glögg and drink it too," Marcus said excitedly, his voice ringing with fanatical excitement. How long he'd waited for this exact moment, how many years he'd planned for all of the pieces to fall exactly into the right places.

And I was about to fuck it up good.

I reached my hand into my pocket and pulled out the cluviel dor. No one seemed to notice - all eyes were on the vampire drama unfolding to my left. I took one, long look at Eric, and I smiled. The fire inside him was beginning to burn bright once again. I was proud of him. I loved him more than I'd ever loved another person in my whole life. He was going to hate me, I realized, but I wasn't going to let him make a choice he'd regret forever because of me.

I held the cluviel dor tightly in my hand, closed my eyes, and wished.

I opened my eyes and I was standing on the dusty front porch of my own house.

It was nighttime, quiet. I could hear the crickets chirping and smell the mossy Louisiana air. I breathed it in deep and an immense wave of nausea suddenly hit me. I doubled over and threw up all over my shoes. It took a few seconds for the magic to catch up with my body, but I felt like I'd just been sucked up through a cosmic crazy straw and spit out the other end.

The screen door creaked open and I saw a pair of green and sliver running shoes standing at the edge of the mess. I looked up to see my cousin Claude, standing in front of me with a disgusted look on his face. He was wearing his workout clothes, with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Aside from the vomit everywhere, he didn't look all that surprised to see me.

"Dermot," he called over his shoulder. "She's here."

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Translations (when Eric is holding Perr)

Eric: Perr. Look at me, Perr.

Eric: Don't move, it will be over soon.

Perr: I have failed you, grandfather. They are all dead.

Eric: No, Perr, it could not be helped.

Perr: Crush them. Eat their hearts.

Eric: I will.