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Chapter 29: War Games
As she came to her senses, she realized that she felt awful, as if her arms and legs and spine had all turned into rubber. And she was cold. Very cold. Apparently, this was what extreme blood loss felt like. Sookie tried to suppress a shiver and failed. Everyone seemed to notice at once. Blankets were wrapped around her, three people were asking her if she was all right —obviously not, or else she wouldn't be shivering and feeling weak— and someone was making her drink something that tasted decidedly foul.
"Where's Bill?" she managed to ask, in amidst the commotion.
"Thawing in the cargo hold," said Logan with very little sympathy. "According to Northman, that's gotta hurt, not that he doesn't deserve some pain for what he's done to you."
It all came back to her. Lorena had lunged at her before she had even fully opened the door. She remembered suspending the female vampire in midair, using her newfound powers. Bill had been chained to a chair, bloodied and half naked. Smoke had risen from his body where the silver chains had come into contact with his skin. She had been so furious at the sight of her tortured lover —ex-lover— that the stake had risen on its own without her even thinking about it. She'd thrown Lorena backwards, again, with her unnerving new powers which she did not understand, and before the vampire could have recovered, Sookie had plunged the sharpened piece of wood into her cold unbeating heart.
She remembered untying Bill from the chair. Lorena's blood and other bodily fluids had been drying on her body. Peeling away the chains had been a painful process. Bill had been barely lucid, and she'd known that she could not carry him. Her powers, it seemed, were triggered by blind fury. Since she'd ceased to be angry, she had no longer been able to use them. So when Bill had suddenly attacked her, she'd been totally helpless.
Sookie reached up to touch the two puncture wounds in her neck. Someone had put a gauze pad over it and taped it to her tightly with what seemed like the entire roll of medical tape. Everyone was still looking down at her with concern, although she was only searching for one face. He still looked the same as he did in her dream, only he seemed more tired and very much human. Gabriel. The Archangel Gabriel. She didn't remember the names of the other people, or even what had happened in her dream, but her mind was not so addled that she could not remember the revelation of the angel's identity. "Thank you," she whispered. God, she sounded weak. Wait, she really shouldn't be taking the Lord's name in vain in front of an archangel. That was wrong.
Van Helsing dipped his head in acknowledgement of her thanks. No one else had realized who she had been talking to, or so she hoped. She'd feel really bad if she was one the one who foiled the angel's plan, whatever it was.
New York. It was the safest place to be. Not only did the mutants have a stronghold there —he'd talked to Pam on the phone earlier, and she had assured him that the mutants' security was better than Sophie-Ann's— but he'd also be in Sibylla's territory. It was humiliating, yes, but Sibylla did care for him, as much as she could care for anyone, and she probably wouldn't let anyone just take him from her state. It wasn't so much going into hiding as beating a strategic retreat. He would return to his area. Just...not yet.
It was just past midnight when his phone rang again. He checked the caller ID and then grimaced to himself. It was the Queen, and not the one he wanted to hear from. Actually, he'd had enough of all royalty at the moment. However, at this moment in time, it was vital that he knew everything there was to know about Sophie-Ann and Edgington. The Queen of Louisiana was the only one who could clear his name concerning the sale of V, and he was well-versed in the maxim of keeping one's enemies closer than one's friends.
He managed to find a relatively private spot at the back of the jet to take his call. "Your Majesty," he said. He somehow managed to sound delighted at the prospect of talking to Sophie-Ann. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Cut the crap, Northman," said Sophie-Ann. "I know you framed me for that counter-raid on your bar."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Eric.
"Yes, and I own Wall Street," snapped the Queen. "I didn't call to talk about that. The Magister knows that it's my blood that you were selling. They're launching a formal investigation." Sophie-Ann sounded rather desperate. Eric didn't feel a lot of sympathy for her. One, he wasn't a particularly sympathetic man and two, she deserved it. "All the sheriffs are meeting in that little backwater town where Bill Compton lives tomorrow to discuss a counter plan." Eric frowned. Why would the queen want to meet her sheriffs in Bon Temps, of all places? He tentatively asked her.
"The Magister has traced the blood back to New Orleans," said Sophie-Ann. "I don't want to deal with him right now. Not yet. He won't expect me to go to some town that doesn't even have a decent hotel." There was a beep on Eric's phone, signalling that there was another incoming call. He was half-tempted to hang up on Sophie-Ann and talk to whoever else was calling him, but he decided that he'd done enough stupid things for one night. "I expect you to be there, Northman."
Eric raised an eyebrow. She still expected him to be loyal to her after what she'd done? Well, he supposed it would be to his benefit too, if he planned this accordingly. He wasn't going to go alone. No, he was going to show Sophie-Ann just how much he didn't need her.
"Be there," snapped Sophie-Ann. She hung up on him and he was free to turn his attention to his other caller.
"Eric, you made me wait for a long time," said Sibylla before he could even say a single word. "You know, when I call you about important information, I do not expect to be kept waiting." What, no 'darling', 'cheri', 'My Vicious Viking' —she liked say that the same way advertisers would say 'My Little Pony', just to rile him up— or other ridiculous meaningless endearments? It must be very serious indeed.
"It was Sophie-Ann on the other end," said Eric.
"Yes, well, you should have hung up on the common-born bitch after that trick she pulled on you. What did she want?"
"She's calling a meeting of all her sheriffs. It's no business of yours. What did you wish to tell me?"
"Have you watched tonight's news?" Eric frowned. She called to ask him that?
"I've been a little busy, Sibylla," he said. "And I'm in a jet right now, so don't tell me to turn on the television."
"No, I'm going to ask you to ask the metamorph to turn on the television that they have on the jet," said Sibylla. Damn, did she really know everything, including the fact that there was an inbuilt television in the 'X-Jet'?
"Why don't you just tell me and get it over with?" said the Viking impatiently. He still had to tell the metamorph to turn the jet around and head for Shreveport. He would be walking into the lion's den, so to speak, but he didn't want to be a fugitive forever. Perhaps he could somehow strike a bargain with Sophie-Ann and get her to clear his name in exchange for...something.
"Edgington ripped out a newsman's spine on live television tonight," said Sibylla. "He's declared war on the humans."
"What?" hissed Eric. "Has he gone mad? Doesn't he know that we will lose? They have weapons of mass destruction, for fuck's sake, and we're dead during the day!"
"It may have slipped his mind," said Sibylla. "I'll ask him when I next see him. And don't hang up on me yet, Eric Northman. There's more. The Sheriffs of Louisiana Areas Two, Six and Eleven have been receiving large sums of money from an unidentified off-shore account weekly. My people have tracked the account to the Cayman Islands, but so far, I haven't got a name. Something's off about all of this, especially with this sudden meeting of sheriffs that you've just told me about."
"Thanks, Sibylla," said Eric. For the first time in many years, he actually wasn't angry at her after having spoken to her, and he was genuinely grateful for the information she'd given him. He might not know its significance yet, but he had a feeling that he was going to find out very soon. "I'll be sure to keep both eyes open."
"Be careful, Viking," said Sibylla. She even sounded a little affectionate, and it wasn't that fake charm that she layered on so perfectly for her television and public appearances. "We might have been over centuries ago, but I would still be a little bit upset if you met your final death. I have never found another bed partner like you, and frankly, it would be a shame to let all that talent go to waste."
He knew they wouldn't understand, but things were already going as he'd planned. His fifteen minutes in the spotlight had been crucial. Humans were stupid creatures. According to their logic, since one Muslim ordered for planes to be crashed into the World Trade Centre, then all Muslims were terrorists. It didn't make one iota of sense, but no one ever said that humans were rational, which suited him just fine because their irrationality and tendency to view bad examples as being the norm for a certain group were vital to his plan. He was relying on a backlash from the human public.
Russell smirked as he watched politicians on television decry his 'heinous crime' and Nan Flanagan's pathetic attempts at salvaging the reputation of vampires. That woman represented the shame of all vampires. Why should they, these immortal top predators, stoop down to the level of their vastly inferior prey? By turning the entire human population against their blood-drinking neighbours, he was forcing the vampires of the North American continent to band together against this threat, thus putting a stop to this ridiculous mainstreaming business. They would need a leader, and who better than him, Russell Edgington, a three thousand year old king who knew how to manipulate the earth's latent magic? First blood had already been shed tonight. He idly stroked the lidded crystal vase that was sitting on his lap as he stretched his legs out on the loveseat. He remembered how delighted Talbot had been when he'd won this vase at an antique auction in the seventies, so it was fitting that it now housed all that remained of his lover.
"Don't worry, my love," he crooned. "You will be avenged. That lump of undead Viking will pay for what he did to you." It was merely a convenient coincidence that the first phase of his plan involved annexing Louisiana. The Sophie-Ann and her sheriffs were going to be meeting in that little backwater town tomorrow night. Paul Bettany, the Sheriff of Louisiana Area Eleven had arranged everything, in conjunction with the sheriffs of areas Two and Six. Together, they'd managed to convince the hapless queen of Louisiana that she had to call this meeting in order to get herself out of her current predicament. He doubted that Northman would refuse the summons of his queen. Tomorrow night, heads were going to roll, or disintegrate, depending on the timeframe.
"The queen wants to meet her sheriffs in Bon Temps?" said Sookie incredulously. "Why?" Bill had an idea about why, but he kept silent about it. One part of him wanted to tell her, but another part wanted him to keep it secret for as long as he could. He cared deeply for Sookie and he hated himself for hurting her, but he was also not willing to meet his final death just yet. He tried to ignore the pain that plagued him. Thawing really did hurt as much as they said it would. They'd let him into the cabin after he'd stopped screaming, so he could thaw out faster. It had been cold in the cargo hold.
"She wants to avoid the magister, apparently," said Eric. "Although Sibylla suspects that there is a conspiracy." He told them about the money of unknown origins that some of the other sheriffs were receiving, and he told them about Russell Edgington's fifteen minutes in the limelight. And then he admitted that he'd slain Edgington's lover.
"That was...stupid," said Van Helsing. Now, Bill wasn't much for showing his feelings, but he couldn't control himself this time. His eyebrows flew towards his hairline as he stared at the man, and then flicked his eyes towards Eric. A human had called Eric Northman stupid. Even more unnerving was the fact that Eric simply inclined his head, accepting the censure, albeit reluctantly.
"I know it was rash," he said. "But I needed vengeance."
"Don't we all?" said Van Helsing. "There is no point in regretting what was done. My main concern is what must be done now to ensure that we do not end up on a one way road trip to hell."
"I take it you have a plan then," said Eric. Why was the sheriff being so respectful to this human? Sure, he had somehow saved Sookie's life, but he was still just a mortal, wasn't he? Bill didn't understand. There was something different about the man, but if he had just bumped into him on the street, the vampire doubted that he would have recognized that difference. Then again, Eric was much older, and therefore he had more experience concerning otherworldly matters. Still, Bill could not, for the unlife of him, think of what it was that made this man worthy of Eric Northman's respect.
"Well...it isn't much of one," said Van Helsing. "But from what you're saying, I'll go out on a limb and say that your fellow sheriffs are being bribed by Edgington. The artificial energy vortex in Jackson and the activities of his wolves indicate that he is after domination of some sort. There's no better place to start than your neighbour's territory."
"So Edgington is after Louisiana," said Eric. "How does that help us?"
"Let me finish, Northman," said Van Helsing. "What we don't know is when he will strike; that is a disadvantage. What we do know, however, is that he hates your guts and he wants Miss Stackhouse for his own; she is really quite rare, on this plane at least, and Edgington is a collector of powerful artefacts. He wouldn't have been able to redirect so much power from the ley lines and other vortexes otherwise. However, the further he is from his vortex, the less powerful he becomes. He hasn't yet established his hold over the energies of other territories yet. Therefore, if we can lure him away from his power base and into a pre-planned ambush, we might have a chance of besting him."
"Only a chance?" said Logan.
"I don't want to get any foreign powers involved yet," said Van Helsing. "Trust me. European vampires make American ones seem cuddly bears."
As a very American vampire, Bill took great offense to that. He was not 'cuddly', even if he was trying to regain his humanity, although he wasn't sure how a bear could be cuddly. The last bear he'd seen had been a hungry Kodiak bear in Alaska. That had not been a pleasant encounter, either for him or the bear.
Sookie kept on stealing glances at Bill, even though she wasn't ready to talk to him yet. He was sipping from a bottle of room temperature True Blood. Ice crystals remained in his hair. His face was drawn from pain; she'd heard that vampires could survive being frozen, but thawing was a real pain. It had something to do with the body's liquid expanding as it froze, rupturing cells and vessels and membranes, and it took a while for any vampire to recover for such an ordeal. Despite what he'd done to her, first abandoning her and then almost killing her, she felt that he did not deserve such pain. What could she say? People always told her that she was too kind and too forgiving. They made her sound like a doormat. Still, she couldn't deny that she felt a little bit pathetic for feeling sorry for Bill. It was like Alcide and his insufferable ex, for whom he still had feelings. Perhaps they could both be pathetic together.
Speaking of Alcide, someone had found the werewolf some spare clothing. He was now wearing a navy blue tracksuit with 'X' emblems embroidered on it. The clothing was a little small for him and he'd left the top unzipped, giving her a delicious view of pectorals and abdominals that looked as if they had been sculpted from bronze, or better yet, chocolate. The blood loss —and her extraordinary out of body experience— had left her a little bit giddy and more than just a little nonsensical.
Plus, she was going home. Yes, she was going home as bait, but the archangel himself had promised her that he was going to do his 'damndest' best to keep her safe, and she trusted him. She also didn't know that angels were allowed to swear. One learned something new every day.
The jet landed on her front lawn less than an hour before dawn. She had never seen anything more beautiful than the shabby facade of her old farmhouse. The gutters needed cleaning and there was a carpet of red and yellow leaves on her porch, but this was the most welcoming sight she had seen in days.
Once inside, Logan made her stay on the couch whilst he bossed everyone else about, getting Pyro to light a fire before going off in search of food —that probably meant waking Sam up and telling him everything so that they could then go and raid Merlotte's for supplies. Knowing Sam, he'd probably be more than happy to help.
The two vampires went to ground. Bill had tried to talk to her before he died for the day, but she had ignored him. She wasn't ready to face him yet, and she was grateful when he left. The warmth of the fire, the smell of burning pine and the crackling of the flames lulled her to sleep.
No matter how tired she was, Marie just couldn't sleep. The sun was peeking through the gap between her curtains. Kitty and Jubilee were both asleep on the floor. She wished she could be like them, but her life had become so much more complicated ever since she'd come to Louisiana to 'clear her head'. She almost snorted. She hadn't done much head clearing at all. In fact, she'd muddled her mind even more during her few months here. Once upon a time, she'd thought that she'd never be able to touch another person again without hurting them. And then there had been the Cure, which hadn't been as much of a cure as it had been a temporary relief. Once more, she'd gone back to thinking that she'd be isolated from other people forever, since she hadn't wanted to risk her life with another round of cure shots. And then...Eric Northman had happened to her. She still wasn't quite sure how she felt about that.
The burning sting in her shoulder had subsided into a dull itching ache that could easily be ignored, thanks to Eric's unconventional ministrations. None of the people who had witnessed the 'healing' had said anything about her and the vampire's odd behaviour. She was grateful for that, because she was still trying to figure out a way to break it to Remy that she'd kissed another guy.
Speaking of Remy, she felt that he needed to know as soon as possible. She needed to tell him and get that weight off her shoulders so she could concentrate on more important things, such as surviving, for instance. She threw off the covers and wrapped her fluffy dressing gown around her before swinging her bare feet over the side of the bed. She picked her way between the sleeping forms of her friends. No one, not even Mystique, stirred.
It was just her luck that Remy was awake and sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee. He stood when he saw her come in and pulled out a chair for her.
"How are you doing, cherie?" he asked once she was seated. "You look awful." She surmised that she had dark shadows beneath her eyes, and her face was probably so pale that she could pass for a vampire. His liquid brown eyes were full of concern. The sincerity of his voice made her feel even guiltier and she averted her gaze. He took it to mean that she wasn't all right —she actually wasn't feeling all that well, but for entirely different reasons to the ones in his mind. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
"I kissed another man," she blurted out. Remy froze. "I'm really sorry." 'Sorry' sounded so inadequate, but it was the best she could do. It was pathetic.
"Who?" he asked. His voice was so cold that it could have frozen her blood.
"It doesn't matter," she said. Well, it did matter that Eric had kissed her —he was her boss and a very powerful vampire, after all— but in this context, the identity of the man didn't actually matter, at least as far as Remy was concerned. The fault lay with her. She couldn't really blame anyone else for what she had done. She believed in taking responsibility for her own actions.
"What matters is that I kissed another man and I cheated on you." She almost cringed; it sounded so awful, and the worst part was that although she was ashamed of what she'd done, she wouldn't hesitate to repeat that kiss a second time if given the chance.
"It was Northman, wasn't it?" asked Remy flatly. It wasn't so much a question as a statement, really.
"The identity of the man would not make an iota of difference," said Marie. "This is about us, and what I did." The Cajun remained silent and he was so still and stiff that he might as well have been a sculpture.
"I knew it was Northman," said Remy. "I'm not even surprised. We've been on two dates, and he's ruined them both."
"That's not fair, Remy," said Marie. "The first time it was because my cousin got attacked. The second time was because my friend was being tortured. It had nothing to do with Eric."
"Don't deny it, cherie," said Remy. "You are attracted to the vampire. There's something between the two of you that doesn't exist between the two of us."
"So that's the end of us, then, is it?" said Marie. "I'd thought you wouldn't be the type of man to give up so easily."
"What's the point? We'd both be wasting time, and we both know it. He'll always come between us. For the record, I don't ever think there was an 'us', so to speak. You shouldn't dwell on it too much. It wasn't as if we got very far." He gave her a sad smile that almost made her burst into tears. Anger would have been preferable to this stoic acceptance. If he had yelled at her or insulted her, she would have felt justified and become angry in turn. However, he was being so good about this that she only felt worse about herself.
"Hey, don't start crying, all right?" said the Cajun. "You're a good girl, cherie; you're very confused and you don't know what's best for you or even what you want, but you have a good heart. I don't want to see you get hurt."
"You don't have to worry about me," said Marie, forcing herself to give him a wobbly smile. "You don't have to be so nice either. I hurt you. I'm so sorry I hurt you."
"It's not as if I haven't made my share of mistakes," said Remy. "Take care, cherie. You're so very young and innocent, and you live in a dangerous world." He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and then rose from his seat, taking his now cold mug of coffee with him. She heard the front door open and shut, and she was alone in the kitchen. She let the tears fall then, and mopped them up with a few paper towels. Then she dug around in the freezer for the carton of cookie dough ice cream that she knew was in there. She ate half the carton, put it back, and then went straight upstairs, feeling strangely at peace with herself.
Sleep came soon after that.
By the time Sookie woke up, pale rays of fall sunshine were shining through her window, and she was feeling much better, and very hungry. Someone had carried her upstairs to her room and put her in her pajamas. She could only hope it was a woman who'd done that. She threw on her thin robe before heading downstairs. She could smell the scent of fried bacon on the air already. As she passed by Marie's room, she noticed that the door was closed. Her cousin must still be asleep. The poor thing deserved her rest, after those traumatic few days. The telepath realized, with a bit of regret, that she hadn't really thought about her cousin's welfare at all; she'd been so occupied with her own concerns that she hadn't had time for anyone else. It had been Eric who'd helped Marie get out of that mansion. That just wasn't right, and Sookie promised herself that she was going to make it up to her once this was all over.
She heard their voices and their thoughts before she even saw them. The Cajun, in particular, was broadcasting very loudly today. He was thinking about why he was helping the vampires when he felt he didn't owe them anything. He fell silent as he decided that he was doing this to help Sookie, not Eric or Pam or Bill. The others were mostly thinking about the possible battle ahead and mentally preparing themselves for a fight. From what she could glean from Logan without concentrating so hard that he could feel her, he was thinking about stakes and pancakes at the same time.
Magneto's thoughts were silent to her, as he was wearing his helmet again. So was Charles' for that matter, and of course, Gabriel. "Miss Stackhouse," said the angel when he saw her coming down the stairs. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better, thank you, Mr. Van Helsing," she replied. "Is there any breakfast?"
"Of course," said the angel. "Your friend Sam brought enough over to feed an army."
"I suppose that's exactly what I'm doing, at the moment," came Sam's voice from the kitchen. Moments later, he emerged. Sookie threw her arms around him without a word. She was so happy to see him. He hugged her back.
"I'm so glad you're in one piece, Sook," he murmured when he released her. "Logan and Van Helsing told me what's going on. I'm here to help."
"Oh, Sam," said Sookie. "I don't want to drag you into my trouble."
"Don't be stupid, Sookie," said Sam. "You're my friend, and I'm not going to sit back and relax while there's a psychotic sorcerer vampire king comin' after you, you hear me?" He shook his head. "You really should keep away from those bloodsuckers. They're not good for your health."
"I know, Sam," said Sookie quietly. "But I think they'll just find me anyway. I'm in too deep now."
"You can always get out of it if you really wanted to," Sam insisted. "Anyway, come and have some breakfast. You look a bit pale." He made her sit down at the kitchen table before bringing her a mountain of pancakes with syrup and butter and a cup of much needed steaming black coffee. She wolfed it all down as she listened to the war preparations.
There was another knock on the door, causing a lull in the activity. Sookie got up to answer it, but Sam stopped her. It was Van Helsing who opened the door. The angel did not say anything to the newcomer, but he did stand aside to let her pass.
Standing in Sookie's doorway was the most beautiful woman to ever grace Bon Temps with her presence. She looked like she ought to be on the cover of a fashion magazine instead of standing on the porch of an old farmhouse, with her five inch silver-coated stiletto heels and tailored silk trousers. They said that fabulous clothing was the armour of the modern Amazon. If that was the case, then this woman was dressed for war. It was a far cry from what she'd been wearing the last time the telepath had seen her.
"Hello, Sookie," said Claudine.
