My apologies on this chapter – I'm not quite sure if the living room in Bill's house is to the right or the left as you face inside from the front door.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sookie's World Crumbles

"Adele, you are a telepath?" Abby asked incredulous. "Does Sookie know?" Although she barraged Adele with her questions, she now knew her cover had been blown, and she had put the sweetest woman on earth in danger.

Adele seemed to blush. "Thank you, dear."

Okay, Abby also knew that now she would have to keep her thoughts to herself, literally.

"Yes, I am, and Sookie does not know that I am telepathic."

"I think she would like to know—I'm sorry, that's none of my business."

Adele shook her head. "Abigail, I knew what you were the minute I saw you. One good thing about being a coordinator for the Descendents of the Glorious Dead—an organization created by those of Bon Temps who hold their brave Civil War soldier ancestors dear to their hearts—is that I've come to discover a great deal about the heritage of the Stackhouses. You see, Louisiana, especially this area and around New Orleans, has a rich French heritage. But, it also has many, many families of the Welsh. The original Celts, the English that were basically corralled out of their homeland when the Vikings came to conquer the land, were horded to Western England, now Wales."

"Wow, I'd read something along those lines, about the Wales history," Abby said, amazed at Adele's knowledge. "But the Douglases are Scottish, not Welsh."

"Well, then, during the more than a thousand years since the emigration of the Celts to Wales, some of those Welsh Douglases must have moved north to Scotland. And what is even less known is the fact that most people who are psychic or telepathic, or have any other amazing gift they inherited, are of the original Welsh heritage."

Abby thought about that for a moment. "So, it isn't a curse," she mumbled under her breath.

"Oh, no, dear. It is far from a curse. Over my hundred years on this planet," Adele chuckled, "I've been able to use my ability only when necessary, which is hardly ever anymore. That is, until I met you."

Abby turned pale. "Oh, Adele, I am so, so sorry to put you—"

"And you never told me?!" came a voice from the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway.

Abby's head turned so fast that she thought it would twist right off. Adele barely moved, but the smile on her face faded instantaneously.

"I should leave," Abby said as she stood.

"No, stay Abby," Sookie said as she entered the room, her hands visibly shaking. "Gran, how could you not have told me?"

"Sweetheart, you knew what you were and I protected you when I had to," Adele replied, referring to her own brother that had wicked thoughts of Sookie when she was a child.

"That's not enough," she snapped rudely.

"Young lady, please do not use that tone with me." Sookie immediately deflated and apologized. "Your mother was special, like us—"

"Special? Is that what you call it?"

Abby squirmed in her chair, her food all but forgotten at the tension in the room.

"She never accepted her gift, Sookie. Why do you think she changed so dramatically and fought to deny who you are?"

"What I am is a freak, Gram."

Adele grew angry, something she, for the most part, contained very well. She stood and approached Sookie. "You are hardly a freak."

"I . . . I need to go to Bill's," Sookie mumbled, "to think."

"Sookie," Abby spoke finally, "it'd be best if you stay here with us . . . with me, considering the situation."

Sookie frowned, though Adele showed no reaction. "Why?" She sprinted to Abby, who braced herself against Sookie's attack. "What have you done?" she screamed.

"Sookie Stackhouse! You step away from her this instant!" Adele roared, and Sookie was stunned enough to stop. Her grandmother had never, ever spoken to her like that. In a calmer voice, Adele said, "It'll all work out, I'm sure. Why don't you get something to eat, Sookie. I've made your favorite," she said as she turned and walked to the counter, as if that was the end of the conversation. As head of the household, it basically was.

Abby took one bite of her sandwich and grew sick to her stomach. She slowly rose, pushing back the chair. "Mrs. Stackhouse, I appreciate your hospitality, but I think it'd be best if I leave."

"That might just be a good idea," Sookie snapped.

"Sookie! Shame on you! Abigail, you are welcome to stay here—"

Adele charged out of the room and out the front door, not even caring that she had accidentally slammed the door. She ran away from the house blindly, not knowing or caring which direction she went. As the trees thickened and the hanging moss from the branches slapped at her face, she found herself facing an old antebellum home, similar to ones she had only seen in pictures dating the middle 1800's.

The paint was old, faded and chipped, but it was the most unbelievable home she had ever seen. She could see cracks beginning to form in the two wooden columns on the porch, atop the staircase. The windows were large, seemingly to let a lot of sun in because during that time, there was no electricity, as there was none now, curiously enough.

This couldn't be . . .

She snapped her head back where she had come, and realized she'd traipsed through the cemetery where Lt. William Thomas Compton was buried. Then she remembered the location of Jessie Compton's house—right beside Magnolia Cemetery.

No . . .

Beginning to shake all over, she took one tentative step toward the house, then another and another until she was facing the double-panel entrance door. Her mind was screaming at her to turn and run, but honestly, where the hell was she going to run? She sure wasn't going to run to Sam, because for all she knew, Rich was there and . . .

Abby's hand reached for the door knob, unprepared to find it locked, but it wasn't. Taking one deep, heavy breath, she turned the knob and walked into the spacious foyer. To the left was the living room, sparingly furnished with a single red, old couch and a wooden rocker. What caught her attention were two old-fashioned photographs sitting over the huge, wood fireplace.

She took a few steps into the room when a voice from behind her asked urgently, "What are you doing here?"

POLL 1: Would anyone be interested in reading a Bill, Eric, Sookie -M-rated fic??

POLL 2: What about a Sookie & Pam -M- rated fic?