Chapter 21

Eric stood back and watched both the cabin and the shed burn. Before he'd lit the fires, he'd gathered up the loose silver tools her maker had used on her, along with the net and chain they'd used on Mickey. He'd loaded them into a bag he'd found and, after the fires had been lit, he'd carried them a couple of miles into the woods, burying them in a shallow hole. He'd taken the embalming table even further. He hadn't had the time to remove the rest that had been locked or attached in place. The fire might get hot enough to melt off the plating, at least.

He tried not to think about all of the things he'd packed away. There had still been bits of her on some of them. Including one in particular, and he remembered the burns that he'd seen between her legs. He felt sick. He was keeping the blood tie closed.

He felt something on his cheek, and he wiped at it with the back of his hand. He was surprised when it came away bloody. He was confused for a moment before he realized that it was a tear. His jaw clenched harder. He had often been angry at himself for making a mistake, but he never felt guilty. Or ashamed, either. And he certainly did not cry. Ever.

He couldn't stop seeing her in his head. Smiling down at him from the top of the oak tree. Hissing at him back in the floor of her closet. Turning to look at him, so beautiful, after he'd come back from New Orleans. Lying under Longshadow, her eyes huge in her skeletal face, staring blankly in terror. Looking up at him with her lips parted and her eyes soft and inviting, right before he'd kissed her. Hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, naked and tortured and drained and covered in blood. Staring into his eyes while she drank his blood, his cock throbbing with every swallow, despite how sick and hurt she was.

He flew as hard and fast as he could back to Pam's. Not because it was nearly dawn — although it was — but because he needed to feel something that wasn't how he'd felt before. It didn't work.

He wanted to go to his house. He wanted to see her. But he didn't. Chow had several women in his room again, and Eric growled and slammed Pam's bedroom door hard enough that a picture fell off the wall and shattered.

…

Sookie toweled herself off. She felt raw and hollow inside. It was such a relief knowing that her maker was finally dead, but she thought that really believing it was going to be harder. She knew that she was going to be scared of her own shadow for a very long time.

She looked at the silky, slinky nightwear that Eric had bought and Pam had picked out, but she just couldn't go there. She pulled one of Eric's t-shirts out of his closet and put that on. Strangely, it felt like an old friend.

She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, and then had to open them again right away. All she could see was her maker's face, his eyes changing from hard and evil to soft and loving to wild and crazy to cold and possessive. It didn't matter. All of them were terrifying. He'd expressed all of his feelings through pain.

Strangely enough, she knew that he had loved her, in his own sick and twisted kind of way. And not just as a possession, although he'd revelled in his ownership of her. Both before and after she'd been turned. He'd wanted so badly to gloat. To tell every vampire around that she belonged to him and nobody else. To rub their noses in it. But he'd been sure that someone would take her from him. And, as it turned out, he'd been right.

Pam came downstairs with a mug full of blood. "You've had lots of vampire blood, but no human. You should drink."

Sookie smiled up at her. "Thank you."

Sookie sat up and reached for the cup. Pam handed it to her and sat on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Sookie shrugged. "Weak. Tired. Kind of a mess?"

Pam smiled. "I think that's to be expected."

Sookie took a sip, closing her eyes in pleasure. Blood and comfort still felt like a novelty. She sighed. "I'm pretty screwed up. A lot more than I was a couple of days ago, in a way. It was… It was really really bad, what he did to me. Worse than it's ever been. And that's saying a lot. It's going to take a while to get that out of my head."

Pam thought that it was going to take her a long time, as well. And she hadn't lived through it.

Sookie continued, "But I know that he's gone and that I don't have to be scared of him any longer. Part of me feels a little messed up about that, too, as much as I hate it. But I feel like maybe I might be ok. Someday, anyhow."

She hoped that she didn't sound ungrateful. Or like that maybe someday wasn't a big deal. It was a miracle that she had a maybe someday to look forward to. Hope was even more of a novelty than blood or comfort.

Sunrise was very near, so Sookie rinsed the mug out in the bathroom sink that she thought of as hers. Pam was neatly folding her clothes after changing into a negligee. Sookie climbed into bed and Pam got in on the other side, facing her. Sookie curled up tight and wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. But then she had to open them right away again. She was going to have to keep her eyes open and her mind busy right up until she was pulled to rest by the sun.

Pam was watching her intently. Sookie looked… lost. Pam wished that she could feel Sookie's emotions like Eric could when he was close by.

What was it about Sookie that made them so protective of her? So invested? She would have helped another vampire in the same circumstance, of course, and had donated blood to maybe a dozen in the past who'd been badly injured and whom she didn't mind a temporary connection to. But she had never wanted to donate just to have that connection. And she certainly never would have given up sex and fresh blood for weeks for anyone else. Except Eric, of course. Especially without complaint. Even initially, it hadn't been all out of pity or curiosity or responsibility for having been the one who found her. Not even because she'd been told to by her maker. All of those were true, of course, but they hadn't really been why. She had been all in from the beginning. She had truly cared, in a personal way, right from the start.

She felt utterly ridiculous, but she stretched the arm that was underneath her forward. "Not that I wouldn't love to take you to bed, but I promise that that isn't what this is about. Would you…" She sighed, angry at herself, both for being tongue-tied and for offering in the first place. "Do you want to cuddle?"

Sookie lifted her eyes to meet Pam's. Despite the aloof crispness and irony, Pam couldn't quite hide how much she cared. As torn apart as she felt, the corner of Sookie's mouth curled up a little bit. Pam was the best friend she'd ever had, by a country mile. It didn't really matter that she'd never had another one.

It took a moment, but Sookie slid over and rested her head on Pam's arm. Pam wrapped her arms around her. The tears didn't take long to come. Pam held Sookie as she sobbed into Pam's chest, and Pam tried not to notice the tears on her own pillow. They comforted each other until the sun carried them away.

…

The next evening, Pam called Eric's cell phone. It went to voicemail, so she called it again. This time he answered. "What?"

Pam frowned and stepped outside, just in case. She didn't want Sookie to overhear if he was going to be like this. Her voice was cold. "Eric. I just wanted to give you an update. I assumed that you would want to know what's going on."

There was a pause. "Is there a problem?"

"No, I guess not. Physically, she is nearly back to normal. I'll make sure that she drinks a bit more of her maker's blood. Thank you for putting it in the car."

He grunted in reply.

"She is struggling emotionally, but that's to be expected, I suppose. Are you sure you won't be by tonight? She would like to thank you again."

"I am sure."

"Well, maybe tomorrow night…"

There was another long pause. Pam gave up and broke the silence. "Any word from Salome?"

"Not directly, but there's lots of talk about her child's final death. So far, nothing about him being in the area. Of course, if he has a known association with the cabin, connections will be made once it's discovered burned, but they likely won't be linked to us. He has never checked in. If he's been hiding sixteen years' worth of visits from me, he's likely been hiding them from everyone. Especially since he was so secretive about Sookie. I must go."

She'd hoped that she could keep him talking, but when she opened her mouth to speak, he'd already hung up.

Eric stalked out of his office and into the bar. Ginger squeaked and jumped out of the way when he nearly ran her over. He sat at his booth and Belinda immediately set a bottle of A negative next to his hand. He pushed it away and glowered at anyone who looked like they might come closer.

A curvy blonde was giving him the eye across the bar. She was pretty, yet… generic. He beckoned her over to him with a curt gesture. Her face lit up, and she scurried over to him. She looked starstruck.

He was already regretting his decision, but he stood up before she sat down, and she obediently trailed behind him to his office. Once inside, she immediately started to chatter incessantly. "Master Eric, thank you so much for picking me! I could hardly believe it when you called me over. I would be honoured to feed you. And anything else you might want from me, of course. I can't wait to tell my friends. They'll be so jea-"

He pushed her hard against the door and kissed her. As much to shut her up as anything else. She was… enthusiastic. Her hands were frantic, going from his chest to his neck to his back to his ass and back around to his abdomen. Her kiss was all teeth and tongue and spit. He was significantly less than aroused. And her voice had been slightly nasally and very loud. Her eyes were hazel. She wasn't even appetizing, even though he hadn't drunk from a human in four nights. Not since Baton Rouge. And, before that, nothing since he'd been to New Orleans, other than a bottle of Trueblood the night he'd taken Sookie to test out her powers, and a glass of bagged blood a few days before that. He could go much longer without feeding, of course, but that didn't mean that he didn't enjoy drinking much more often. And he had given quite a bit to Sookie.

Dr. Ludwig had told him that Sookie's blood contained human red blood cells. It was both dead and alive. And not only was it powerful, as all vampire blood was, it was decadent. And, as far as he could tell, it was nourishment. He didn't need to feed because he'd had so much of hers, just two nights before.

He pulled away roughly, looking almost murderous. He wasn't just a sexy bad boy, dangerous enough to give her a thrill when he bit her neck, but otherwise mostly harmless. He reminded her of a lion — beautiful and wild and majestic, but deadly and terrifying.

He didn't look like he wanted to eat her or fuck her. And she was so glad, as much as she'd wanted him to do both just a minute before. He looked more like he might kill her, just to cheer himself up a little. She shivered.

Even his voice was almost a roar. "Get the fuck out."

She did, throwing open the door and stumbling on the way out in her rush to escape. She never went back to Fangtasia.