Hello there! I've just wanted to say thank you to you all for your great comments which truly inspire me to continue. I think it fantastic to know that there are so many people out there who enjoy the series as much as I. I enjoy your reviews, keep them coming. I know that I don't have as much "citrus" (still don't know what the hell that is supposed to be in relation to sex) as other writers, but I hope that the plot and subplot I'm working make the reading interesting while you wait for the lemon truck to arrive. Anyhow – this has been so far a thoroughly enjoyable experience in creative writing, and I thank you for taking the ride along with me. Let's see how far down the rabbit hole we can go shall we? - T- xo
Chapter Fourteen
My hands were starting to go numb, from the pressure of the handcuffs. I had a splitting headache, probably from being tasered, and I was very frightened. I had been in a number of dangerous situations before, but I had never had the time to actually sit back and contemplate my own mortality and see death coming. I wasn't sure if I had gotten through to Eric, although I felt his growing concern through the bond. This certainly wasn't a two way street and I wasn't getting much. For all I knew he wasn't even aware I was taken from the club yet.
The van drove swiftly through the night, and my two abductors in the front were talking to each other only briefly. The van was a cargo style work van, and it was loud – so it was really hard to hear what they were saying. I probed the minds of them both and found that Lacey was feeling vaguely guilty with regards to me, but she was also afraid. Beefy wasn't thinking much of anything. You know that saying, all brawn no brains? Well that pretty much described Beefy to a tee. The van slowed down, and then turned down a road that was much rougher and it bounced, with me along with it along for a bit, until I sensed that we were turning into some sort of long driveway. Beefy turned off the engine, and both he and Lacey exited the van.
I expected the door to the van to open right away – but I only heard them walking and then speaking to some other people. The sounds of footsteps approaching the van became louder, and then the door was flung open. Beefy was standing there, and without a word, he reached in and pulled me out of the van. I was on my feet briefly only until he flung me over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes and began walking towards a low slung building, like a garage, set back along a grove of trees. Four or five other vehicles were there, and I saw a couple of people outside, the orange glow of a cigarette poised at their lips.
He walked inside the building and down a long hallway until we came to a room, set up kind of like an office. There was a computer, and a desk, a bunch of file cabinets, and a refrigerator. A chair had been set up in the middle of the room, and that's where Beefy plunked me down. He produced another roll of tape, and proceeded to tape me to the chair, across my chest and around my legs. He ripped the tape off my mouth, and my eyes teared up – did it ever hurt! Once his massive bulk was out of my way, I took a look around the room. It was a dingy room, no windows, with a couch and two chairs set against a wall with a small coffee table. The chair I was in was just a straight backed kitchen chair. I noticed on top of the table, there was a cooler and a wooden stake, along with a great deal of silver chain. This couldn't be good.
Beefy had left the room, and shut the door behind him. I was alone, and I experimentally moved my hands and feet to see if I could detect any slack. Finding no luck there, I looked around for something, anything that might cut through the tape. I could see nothing, and I heard footsteps coming down the hall towards the room I was in, and sensed that my time was running out.
The door opened on the far side of the room, and Conrad walked in, stupid ear piece stuck in his ear, but the phone in its holster on his pants. He grinned at me.
"Well, well – Sookie Stackhouse – to what do we owe the honour of your presence?" He cocked an eyebrow at me. "I certainly hope that our hospitality has been up to par with your southern expectations." He walked over and sat on the top of a desk, and grabbed the cell phone out of his case, and dialled. "Yes, she's here - right – thanks for that knowledge – we'll be ready." And with that he hung up.
"I knew you were hiding something, all your lists – who told you that I what I was Conrad? It was very smart of you to make your lists." I sneered at him, and if I wasn't such a lady I would have spit on him.
"Clever Sookie, I figured I wouldn't be able to get much past you - after all how can you fight an enemy when you can't see what they are doing?" He smiled at me, and got up off the desk. He caressed my face with the back of his hand, and I jerked away.
"Oh no doll, if I can pull all this off, I get to have eternal life. They've promised to bring me over, and guess who the first one will be that I bring over?" He laughed viciously... "That's right sweetheart – you will be. There's something appealing to me about the idea of me being your maker Sookie." He leaned down close to me, and I could smell his sour breath. He grasped my chin and turned my face so I was looking into his eyes. "Did you know that the child of a maker vampire has to do whatever their maker bids?" He waggled his eyebrows at me.
Manners be damned, I inhaled deeply, and spit right in his face. He reared back in surprise and then backhanded me across the mouth.
"You dirty bitch!" He wiped the back of his hand across face, and looked at it as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He leaned in and screamed at me, so loud and violently that spittle flew out of his mouth, and his eyes bulged out of his head. He grabbed my hair, and yanked my head back until my neck was fully exposed, and I my head was immobile in his grasp. "You will learn to respect me or I will have you fed to the dogs outside. Do you fuckingunderstand!"
He then grabbed me by the shoulders and was shaking me, punctuating each of his words with a violent shake to my chair. His face was flaming red, and he was breathing heavy. I felt fear of him for Conrad was utterly insane. His mind screamed black and red mayhem and I reeled with the turmoil of it. I put up my shields quickly, and realised that I had heard the door open in the room. Conrad continued to lean over me, glaring.
"My dear boy – you must calm yourself. Miss Stackhouse whatever have you been saying to upset him so." Occella entered the room, sitting down on a chair, with his legs crossed. Conrad released me.
"Occella, why did you bring me here? I don't understand. You asked for my help, I was here to help you find Nayali." My head was throbbing with fear, and I could feel Eric's presence growing closer. Occella was sending seething waves of hatred at me, and his eyes gleamed maniacally.
"Telepath – I brought you here, because I need Eric. I knew he would not come on his own. Even I, with my limited knowledge of my protégé's activities in the south, have heard about his unusual affection for a bar maid telepath – a human at that." He laughed, throwing his head back. "Who would have thought that Eric Northman, my eldest child would fall for some human waitress?" He spit the word waitress out, and his accent grew heavier – drawing out the ss's on the end of waitress with a hiss. "Wrap up her mouth, I shudder when I hear her speak and I no longer wish to hear her voice."
"Gladly Master." Conrad took a wad of napkins off the desk, and jammed them in my mouth, securing them firmly with tape again. He grinned, and used his finger to trace my jaw. "Soon my sweet, you'll see what it's like when we are together. You don't need to be worried about Northman dear. We have plans for him."
Seeing the panicked look in my eyes, he continued, "Oh you don't think this was all for you do you dear? We know he's bonded to you, we know he'll come to find you. We are waiting; we have silver nets, and plenty of help. He won't escape. He's worth a lot of money you know, in units – in vee?"
I cringed to hear that, they intended to drain Eric and I didn't know how to get him to stop coming for me. They were using our feelings against each other, my love for him, would be the means to his death. And all I could think of was how I had been so cold to him, how unmoving and unwilling to give even a little to him the day before and we had fought. Tears ran down my cheeks, blurring with the blood that had seeped from my nose, when Conrad had backhanded me. Occella sniffed the air, and walked over to me, looking down.
"It's a shame that you are crying for one who is already dead young one. Don't worry, soon you will be too." He leaned forward and lapped the tear and blood mixture off of my face. "Hmmmm," he said speculatively, "You taste different Miss Stackhouse – sweet and something else, I cannot place. Perhaps I'll have a sip? This would explain a lot about Eric's, err, affection for you." He grinned again, and his eyes darted towards Conrad who looked displeased.
"You said that she was mine Master." Conrad said. "You said that she would be my child – she would be mine in every way." He sounded angry and Occella whipped around to him silently moving across the room like a viper.
"And you will be SILENT, until I address you or you will have nothing Mortal." Conrad looked down sulkily, but remained silent.
I heard a commotion outside and a large thump on the roof of the building. The room I was in had no windows, so I couldn't see what was happening. Conrad looked up with concern and Occella looked at the door in anticipation and grinned wickedly and I began to feel despair. Suddenly I felt a stabbing pain race across my back and I moaned behind my gag.
"I expect that it's your Viking my dear. Seems like perhaps Eric has just sustained a wound! Well I knew he's come, just as we figured and a wound will make him easier to restrain. I hate to be interrupted before I have a sample of your lovely bouquet, but alas – there is no rest for the weary."
Anything I write or say in this story is for fictional purposes only, and is not intended to malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, or individual, or anyone or thing, especially those with the ability and desire to fight back or bite me. This story may inadvertently and occasionally become obscene, prurient, useless, hate-filled, poisonous, pornographic, frivolous, empty, rotten, bad, disgusting, hostile, repulsive, virulent, infectious… I cannot in any way condone, endorse or take responsibility for such content, it is probably due to a complete lack of coffee, sleep and sex.
While the storyline and what streams over the next few months are mostly mine - I owe the characters and the basis to which I am writing to Charlaine Harris, and I do not make any money or gain anything from doing this except the fantasizing as I wait impatiently for the next book to come out.