Joe watched in horror as the vampires returned within minutes. Bill was carrying Sookie, while Eric carried the torso of the vampire, missing its limbs, by the throat, its screams choked off by the crushing fingers. The two vampires' faces were masks of fury and, they were all covered in blood.
Joanne turned and threw up.
The mutilated vampire's three nest mates rushed forward, while Robert flew to Eric's side. Eric looked at the bassist on the stage, who nodded, and then flung the screaming torso toward him. The Were caught it and pinned it down under its foot.
Now it was Joe's turn to throw up.
Eric and Robert were deadly grace as they fought together so smoothly, so instinctively, that it was clear to everyone watching that these were the movements bourne of years of fighting side by side. They spun, ducked, struck and bit with lightening speed and the confidence of experienced warriors. They were terrifying and, they were breathtaking.
It was over in minutes. The three remaining vampires could never have hoped to match the experience, and rage, of a thousand-year-old Viking or, the twelve-hundred-year-old Spaniard at his side.