A/N: Thank you for waiting. Sorry for the long gap between updates. I have not abandoned this story.
PART FOUR
Up in Flames
Sookie stepped inside her house and turned around half expecting to still see Eric standing in her backyard. He was gone. With sigh of relief, she closed the door and locked it. For a minute or two she stood staring at the closed door, bracing her self. Her heart felt like it was tearing in two. She wanted - needed Preston to be safe and with her.
Lost in her thoughts, it took Sookie some time to notice the moaning and gasping. "You have to be kidding me," Sookie groaned. It wasn't the music that was suspicious. It was the sounds of a woman groaning, among other very sensual sounds that made Sookie cringe. She purposely made her way through the kitchen very loudly. It seemed to work. The sounds in question had stopped. Shaking her head in disbelief, Sookie made her way into the hallway from the kitchen just in case the living room was not safe.
In one piece she made it to her bedroom. A few steps from the door, Sookie slumped into her chair. Too tired to move, she sat in the dark in her work clothes with her purse on her lap. Her last dose of ibuprofen had finally worn off, leaving her shoulder sore and aching. Getting out of her clothes was not going to be an easy feat, but she couldn't muster the energy to care about such a thing. She was emotionally on the verge of being comatose.
Gathering the last ounces of her energy, sitting in the dark, she prayed. It wasn't something, to her eternal shame, that she did often. Believing that her Christian God was impartial in his love, she earnestly prayed that he would keep Preston safe. She prayed for Claudine, Claude, and for Niall. She also prayed that she'd see them all again. Though the Fairy War was taking place somewhere her mind couldn't even begin to understand, she read enough books to know that war meant people would be dying. She just prayed for all she was worth that her loved ones wouldn't be the ones lost.
Several minutes later, a soft knock on her bedroom door drew Sookie's attention away from her prayers. "Come in," she called out quietly. Slowly, the door cracked open until a silhouette stood in its place. "Hey Amelia," Sookie weakly greeted her roommate.
"Hey Sookie?" Amelia let out an audible breathed. She stood in the doorway staring at Sookie. Mór had explained to her when he showed up that the fairies had gone to war that very night, so she was expecting to see a distraught Sookie, but somehow finding her sitting in her work clothes, her purse on her lap, and in the dark, caught Amelia off guard. It was worse than she had imagined. "Why are you sitting in the dark?" she asked.
Sookie shrugged her shoulders and winced. It was Murray's bite mark. Amelia stepped into the room and made her way toward the bedside lamp. The lamp made a tiny clicking sound before casting a soft light around the bedroom.
"I think I need some help," Sookie admitted. Her shoulder was a bit stiff.
Silently, Amelia stepped in front of her and took her purse, sitting it on the dresser. Preston had called her earlier that evening to give her a heads up about Sookie's bite mark. She'd promise to take care of her.
"Is Tray here?" Sookie asked, noting Amelia was only clad in one of her pretty silky robes.
"No." Amelia stepped away from Sookie. With Sookie in her peripheral vision she said, "Mór is here."
"Oh." Sookie's voice was just above a whisper. Then the memory of the suspicious sounds she heard when she got home clicked into place as her tired mind slowly put together the pieces. "Oh!" she exclaimed. Though Amelia didn't say as much, Sookie could hear clearly enough from Amelia's thoughts that she didn't appreciate her sudden gusto.
"Here you go." Amelia handed Sookie one of her comfy pajamas. Looking down at Sookie, she could see she was gaping. Ignoring Sookie's expression, Amelia walked over to the door and closed it.
"Where's Octavia?" Sookie asked.
"She's at a hotel with her daughter and grandkids," Amelia replied. Sookie wanted to make some objection to Octavia staying at a hotel, but it wouldn't be sincere, so she kept quiet. Secretly, she was relieved that they had opted for a hotel room. "She agreed that it would be a bit too much with the grandkids," Amelia explained. "I think too they were looking forward to the indoor swimming pool."
"That makes sense," Sookie agreed. Tentatively, she asked, "What happened to Tray?"
"Nothing." Amelia's tone was casual. "Mór dropped by and…well…one thing led to another."
"Are you still with Tray?" Sookie was confused.
"He's a great guy." Amelia leaned forward to help Sookie out of her work shirt. "Here lift your arm."
"Ouch." Sookie winced. "And Mór?"
A big grin spread across Amelia's face. "He's so different…I've never been with a dwarf before." Sookie slipped her good arm out of her polo shirt. "It's amazing. Let me tell you—"
"Amelia," Sookie censured her. Changing the subject, Sookie asked, "Why did Mór drop by?"
Amelia shrugged. In an uncommittal tone she replied, "A favor to Preston." Carefully, she slipped Sookie's polo over her head.
"There's a war in Faery."
"Yeah, I know," Amelia replied. "Mór told me about that." Her attention was on Sookie's bandage. It was still on securely. Carefully, she helped Sookie slip her arms, one at a time, into her sleeping shirt. "You know," she said. "He'll make it through this. You both will."
The pang at the center of Sookie's chest made itself known again. "Thanks Amelia." Sookie pulled down the hem of her sleeping shirt. "I can manage the rest on my own."
"I'll go put on a pot of water. You need to take your tea before you go to bed."
"That's right," Sookie groaned. "I'll be out in a bit."
Amelia quietly closed the door. Alone again in her room, Sookie finished her prayer and afterwards she made a mental note to make sure to go to church on Sunday. Standing over her dresser, she emptied her pant pockets. She held her touch piece in her open palm. She wasn't sure how it worked, but it was proving helpful. Sitting it gently on the dresser, she made slow work at getting out of the rest of her work clothes. It was several minutes later before she padded her way to the kitchen.
"Oh." Sookie sounded surprised. "Hi." She gave Mór a half-hearted smile. He was sitting at the kitchen table. She worked really hard not to judge Amelia's lifestyle, or rather the ease that she had in going from one lover to the next.
"Ma'am," Mór happily greeted her. He instantly noted that Sookie's spark was more pronounced than he remembered it being the last time he saw her. It wasn't that Sookie looked drastically different. Granted she had an otherworldly glow about her that only supes could detect, but the change wasn't so extreme that it would draw too much attention from the humans; at least not yet.
"What are you doing?" Sookie asked; thin lines creasing her brow. Sitting at the kitchen table, Mór was doing something with his hands and a long needle-like object and thread.
"Don't laugh," Mór said. "It keeps me calm."
Sookie didn't know exactly what to say. The image was such an anti-dwarf stereotype. When Sookie thought of a dwarf she thought of Gimli wielding a sword and killing orcs.
"An ex-girlfriend," Mór masterfully moved the long flat needle, "Said I needed to calm down."
Sookie watched the movement of his hand. She found the rhythm surprisingly relaxing. Her Gran used to knit. She even tried teaching Sookie once, but Adele's thoughts were too distracting for Sookie.
"Calm down?" Sookie wondered what he was like before.
"We're built for crushing shit." He glanced up at Sookie. She smirked at his exuberance. "Busting crap up takes energy and I've got plenty." He grinned. "You wanna learn?" Mór held up a piece of string.
"Ughm," she hesitated, "Sure." She sat next to him in front of the mug of tea Amelia set-out for her to drink. "What's it called?" From what she remembered, Gran use to knit with two needles, not with one, and especially not with something that looked like a piece of flat bone.
"It's Naalbinding," Mór answered. He quickly threaded Sookie a piece of yarn and proceeded to give her a crash course explaining that he was teaching her the oslo stitch.
. . .
Far away, in Faery, the war raged on. War was rare in Faery and when there was war, it was swift and bloody. The Plain of Nia was filled with battle cries. The fairies' of Faery had their magic bound. This war would not be won by magic, but by the sword. Both sky and water fairies and all their allies collided in a great battle. Their strong swords clashed and slashed into flesh, filling the field with agonizing screams. Bodies decapitated and others with terrible gashes, stretched across the blood drenched field.
An elemental, the only one among the fairies, was simultaneously in two places at once. As she surrounded the Prince, she also stood on top of one of the sacred hills of Faery overlooking the Plain of Nia. Perched atop this sacred mountain, the elemental could see the many fairies that lay across the field in an unending slumber, returning to dust. She could see what the others couldn't. She could see the essential spark of the fallen returning to the wind.
Because she was still in transition – not a full fairy yet, she could not intercede in this war. Any elementals in transition could only intervene to protect their benefactors, for the power to annihilate an entire world pulsed through her blood.
So as the Prince's mighty sword struck one death blow after another, she shielded his enemy's blows. Easily, she could have blasted any who dared to move within a yard of the Prince, but his pride held her back. She allowed his enemies to approach him, but their blades never found the Prince of the fairies. His shield was impenetrable.
In a short time, those allied to the sky fairies outnumbered those allied to the water fairies. The tide of the war had turned. The water fairies' flanks were broken in three. Seeing that this critical battle had been lost, Breandan gave the order to retreat. Desperately, those belonging to Breandan who were able bodied, fled toward the Nysa Path.
"Grandfather." A tall graceful fairy approached Niall. Marcán, Fintan's only fairy son, looked to Niall. "Do we pursue?" His fairies stood ready at the mouth of the path.
Niall stood in a pool of blood. He glanced around the battle field. To one side Claude's fairies encircled about seven of Breandan's fairies. To the rear, Niall spotted Preston standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his kin surrounding a few dozen of Breandan's fairies.
"No," Niall answered. The Nysa Path was inhabited by rain nymphs loyal to Breandan. "Over the path; scouts only." Marcán nodded. Turning, he singled to his fairies. Swiftly a small scouting party took the overpass.
The war was coming to an end.
Breandan knew he had lost the war. In one last ditch effort to win, using a rain nymph to deliver the order, he dispatched his assassins to kidnap the only other person dear to Niall; Sookie. If he couldn't win in battle, he would win through trickery.
. . .
"Hell," Sookie exhaled deeply. Perhaps it hadn't been her Gran's thoughts. After a few failed attempts, Sookie felt her frustration grow a few notches. "Forget it." She gave Mór back the flat needle and yarn.
"It's yours to keep for later," he told her. Sookie smiled politely, turning her attention to her tea. She was thankful that Amelia put some sweetener in it.
Outside, Lochlan and Neave appeared at the edge of the woods surrounding Sookie's home. "Dwarf." Neave wrinkled her nose. Traces of the very distinct musty metallic scent of a dwarf were evident in the air.
"I smell vampire too," Lochlan said. Breandan had told them how Niall's human child had disparaged herself by spending time with vampires. Stealthily, they crept around the perimeter of Sookie's home searching for a weakness in the wards surrounding her house, but the wards were impenetrable. They needed to find a way to draw her out of the house.
"So," Sookie said. "How did you and Preston meet?"
"Since we're both from Faery, you'd think we would have met ages ago." Mór kept his eyes and hands on his naalbinding. "But as it turns out, we met in this world."
"How?" Sookie involuntarily puckered her lips taking a rather large sip of her tea.
"There's a fae bar in Seattle." That piece of information got Sookie's attention. "One particular night we both happen to be there when a fight broke out between an elf and an ursik."
"An ursik?"
"Yep," Mór snorted. "A face only a mother could love. This one night, this ursik accused an elf of cheating in a game of yezi xi. Before anyone knew it, the entire bar broke into a fight." Mór laughed loudly. It was a jovial sound, the kind only made from the belly kind of laugh. "Many bruises and a broken bone later, I backed up into a fairy. We were about to wail on each other when we were both attacked.
"Logically, we took a back-to-back-stance, and fought off the onslaught. We've been friends ever since." Mór grinned widely revealing a set of very straight white teeth. His general appearance wasn't anything like what Sookie was used to seeing in movies. Mór was stocky with a generous dark mop of hair on his head, but he wasn't hairy. At least as far as Sookie could tell from when she entered the kitchen. He was sitting at the table and was fully clothed in a t-shirt and jeans, so she couldn't be sure.
"How long ago was that?" Sookie asked before slamming down the last of her medicinal tea. She glanced over at Mór who was thoughtful for several seconds.
"About sixty years ago I think."
Sookie resisted the urge to stare. Mór didn't look any older than her, so to imagine exactly how old he actually was, was sobering. Like with the vampires, it was so strange for Sookie to imagine living such a long life. Just in the experiences only that such a long life would gain someone was impressive to her. She stood up and deposited her empty coffee mug in the sink.
"So I take it you decided?" Mór cryptically asked.
"Decided what?" Sookie stood next to the counter looking at Mór.
"I take it since you're with Preston you've decided to embrace your fairyness."
Sookie had no idea what he was talking about. "My what—"
An explosion, like a single gun fire boomed violently. Sookie yelped; her whole body jolted with surprise. Mór jumped to his feet, knocking his chair to the floor with a clang.
Through the side kitchen window Sookie could see that her car was up in flames. "Oh my god," she cried out. Her heart was racing. Dread and doom sickened her. What was she going to drive? Her mouth filled with the taste of bile. A series of loud popping sounds jerked her into action.
My car!
Without thinking Sookie rushed outside.
"Sookie," Mór called out to her. His desperate plea for her to stop skirted right past her as the screen door slammed closed behind her.
The thought that perhaps someone had set her car on fire, hadn't crossed Sookie's mind. The one and only thought she had, had been to save her car. It was paid for. Tara had sold it to her after her other car had been damaged when her house had been set on fire.
At the same time as Mór reached for his sword, which he had stashed away in Sookie's front closet, she had already made a beeline to the water spigot.
In the shadows, Breandan's assassins laid in wait, watching their plan perfectly unfold. Just as they had intended the fire to do, it drew their target out of her house; out from under the wards that protected her from them. Neave glanced over at her brother, meeting his gaze. An evil smile spread across their lovely faces. They were going to ambush their prey. Lochlan stealthily went in one direction while Neave silently maneuvered herself in the opposite direction.
Quickly, Sookie turned the knob on the spigot. She could feel the old house's pipes vibrate from the water pressure drawing the water up. Nervously, she glanced up at the fire. Orange-red-yellow flames taller than a man danced toward the dark sky. It wrapped its colored cape around and over the sides of the car, crackling and popping.
Her car looked like an angry beast. Its mouth had formed from the blown out windows on one side. A column of fire shot out of its iron jaws like a monster from Dante's inferno seeking revenge. She could feel the heat.
Her hand quickly found the end of the garden hose. She gripped the power nozzle.
"Get away from her," Mór barked. Surprised by his strange demand, Sookie looked over her shoulder toward him. Her brow creased. Mór was walking toward her with a sword.
Suddenly a different sort of sinking feeling settled in the pit of Sookie's belly. The thought that should have first occurred to her before she ran out of the safety of her house, roared its head: danger. She turned around. Standing in front of her was a fairy; a woman. Cautiously, Sookie backed-up one slow step, then another.
"Don't go too far lassie." The beautiful fairy wickedly smirked. Something wasn't right about her.
.
.
