The veil separating Maryann from her god had never felt so thin.
Dionysus' sacrifice sat mere inches from the maenad, her golden hair infusing the air with a sugary ardor which Maryann seized hungrily in her lungs. She would never admit to doubting her lord, of course, but there were times when she wondered if this moment would ever come.
There had been a great many sacrifices. If she was being honest, there had been a great many true sacrifices too. But this telepathic waitress, this Sookie Stackhouse, was the one she was searching for. She could feel it. She had it right this time, and soon she and her husband would be wed in the cloudtops of the heavens.
The enormity of this meeting was staggering. There weren't words.
Maryann began to tear up. She dabbed at her waterlogged eyelashes with the side of one knuckle, smiling at the wavering outline that was Sookie's face. She thrilled at how everything seemed to dance through the lens of emotion. Even inanimate objects like the velvety loveseat beneath her, and the flat screen television mounted on the wall of the vampire's hotel room, skittered lively outside of the boundaries set by their structure.
It was all just another example of the glorious capabilities of excess. What a disgrace that so few mortals allowed themselves to experience the depths hidden within their own souls. Modern society had smothered the very essence of life to little more than a decrepit gasp.
Sookie's blurred expression transformed into something fantastically perturbed.
"What's wrong with you?"
"I'm just so happy you're here," the maenad blinked to contain her tears. "At last…"
She extended a hand out and spun it gracefully in the air, trailing the back of it down Sookie's cheek. The tanned skin buzzed beneath her fingers. The tiny vibrations beckoned to her in promise.
Sookie recoiled, leaning back to pull her face out of reach. Her arms crossed over her chest as her eyes jittered nervously in their sockets. Maryann followed the general direction of their fidgeting, and met the gaze of the blond vampire looming over them from where he stood behind the miniature sofa.
She refocused on the sacrifice after only a fraction of a second. The dead man held no interest for her. Her god needed life.
"You couldn't have been waitin' that long. We were only gone for a couple of hours," Sookie pointed out with absurd reason.
"Was that all? It seemed so much longer."
Maryann sniggered at her own inside joke, rising from her seat on impulse to fetch something to drink. She rolled her feet from heel to toe in full appreciation of the luxurious throw rug cushioning their soles. Shoes were optional at most to her mind, and she'd chosen to forgo them tonight. This occasion demanded she enjoy herself to the fullest. Anything less would be an injustice to all that she embodied.
She tilted her head back with a deep, contented hum, and let her eyes flutter partway shut. Her hand curved around her neck as she slowly rotated her skull full circle around her shoulders. Hair fell forward like silky curtains on either side of her face when she touched her chin to her chest. Joints cracked and tendons stretched splendidly beneath her fingers.
Holding her face at an angle, view slanted away from Sookie and the loveseat, Maryann swept over the suite with a thieving scrutiny. The stainless steel break in the counters of the kitchenette gleamed into her eyes. She swallowed up the shine, winding around the armrest supporting Sookie's back in a cheerful jog.
"You know, I've never been to a vampire hotel before," she said lightly, bounding across the cold tile.
Maryann bent at the waist to grab the handle of the fridge. It looked like a full size refrigerator that had been made victim of a most gruesome decapitation. The maenad's expression turned gleeful at that messy thought, but tumbled when its innards revealed nothing more exciting than a full stock of uselessly synthetic blood.
"Ingrates," she fumed.
The fridge slammed closed with a violent slap of her arm, making the counters tremble and toppling a container of antibacterial soap into the nearby sink. This was an establishment that catered to blood drinkers. She knew that. Still, the realization that there was nothing for her to celebrate Dionysus' sacrifice with other than the vampires' putrid alternative food source unnerved her.
She pressed her brow against the red splotch the strike left by her wrist. The warmth of the potential bruise reminded her of a heating pad at a spa. Karl would have to learn how to make some of those.
Maryann regretted not bringing him, or any of the humble disciples she'd gathered since landing in Dallas for that matter. But regrets were meant to bog down the stuck and dispirited creatures of the world; the creatures who flocked to her release. They were not for Maryann. She would just have to be self-sufficient, she supposed.
What had dropped so suddenly into the hottest fury bounced just as quickly back into fervent enthusiasm. Her eyes moved in a searching promenade across the countertops for items of interest. They lingered on the fallen container of soap, but Maryann made no effort to right it. Rather, the maenad believed it looked better out of place.
There was no stove. Only a microwave hung over the chilling appliances, cradled in a hollowed out rectangle of wood with precise, cream colored corners. Maryann decided the limitations of what could be prepared here were too devastating to speculate on. It wasn't by any happenstance that this was her first visit to a vampire hotel. It would in all likelihood also be her last.
Finally, something caught her eye. It was pushed to the far side of the left end counter, huddled in a corner beneath a cabinet's shadow. An electrical cord wound around it tightly. The plug that belonged in the vacated socket in the wall was twisted in a gorgeous, wretched distortion that set its metal prongs sideways on the polished granite.
The pot it held was sparkling, and the brand name printed on the front of the contraption didn't have a scratch to obscure its message: it was a coffee maker.
"Aha!"
Maryann began to unwind the cord in triumph, glancing over her shoulder with a whimsical glee. Sookie had gotten up and followed her into the kitchenette. She was standing a few feet back, staring for all she was worth –which, to Maryann, was an entire destiny.
"That figures," the maenad said. "A healthy dose of caffeine must be essential when you're staying up all hours of the night."
Sookie's answering grin stretched wide, "I'm sorry, where did you say Tara was?"
Maryann tugged open drawers and cupboards, trying to find where the filters were stashed. She didn't close any behind her. The compartments were left gaping; a tribute to the disorderly where organization won out everywhere else.
"I dropped her off at a motel with Eggs. She wanted to see you tonight, of course, but… by the time our flight landed, neither of them was in any condition to go anywhere."
She cackled delightedly as she tore the top off a pouch of coffee grinds.
"You mean they were drunk?"
"Free tequila. The pilot was a client of mine."
The carefully modernized term Maryann used to describe her followers had changed countless times over the years. She started using 'client' at some point in this lifetime, and the professional connotation of the word had given her access to more people, places, and events than most of the sheltered population would like to believe.
"I thought you were supposed to be helpin' 'em get their lives back together."
The accusation in Sookie's voice was offensive. Maryann turned to face her fully while the coffee maker slurped and bubbled into action.
"You think loosening the grips of reality isn't helpful? There isn't anything in existence more therapeutic than happiness."
A rap on the hotel room door pounded out a beat of interference.
Sookie directed her attention toward the vampire, who Maryann had almost completely forgotten about at this point. He was still standing against the back of the couch, though he'd pivoted so he could watch the goings on in the kitchen nook. He was physically impressive enough, and the vampiric allure of danger sat well on him. But there was such despondency radiating off him that the maenad wondered why anyone would want to wrap themselves in a wet blanket.
When the rapping came a second time, he hunched away from the furniture and went to answer the summons with a long look in her direction.
Maryann beamed giddily, sensing the onset of opportunity. Now she had Sookie to herself. It became obvious that the telepath was aware of their exclusivity as well, but she shared none of Maryann's excitement. Her gaze trailed after the vampire with a pleading discomfort.
The maenad drew in closer, making it appear as though she was seizing the moment with the most altruistic of intentions.
"Sookie," she murmured in a concerned hush, face falling gravely, "your friends are worried about you."
This change in tone gave her the eye contact she was seeking.
"Tara's worried?"
"Everybody is. They love you. They want what's best for you, and they want you back."
"They haven't lost me."
Maryann painted on pity; it was a look reserved for persons so far gone, they didn't even realize their point of reference (otherwise known as normalcy) had fallen away beneath them. For all of the chaos she took credit for, for all of the wondrous dark impulses she brought to light, this insinuating sorrow was one of her most effective weapons of manipulation. Cause people to question their own reliability, and everything else followed soon enough.
"When was the last time you worked a full shift at your job? Or…spent the afternoon outdoors, in the sun? I'm not here to visit, Sookie. I came to take you home."
"I'm gettin' paid more for relaxin' in this hotel for a few days than I'd make at the bar in months. I don't need you to take me anywhere."
She was insulted, defensive, and completely opposed to the idea –just as the maenad anticipated she would be.
"You truly believe that." Maryann shook her head in premeditated dismay. "How can I make you see that your worth is so much greater than a price tag? Do you really want to spend your nights sitting in the background of a world you're not a part of?"
The first hint of triumph simmered beneath Sookie's silence when Maryann paused. She picked up again the instant the sacrifice opened her mouth, turning to motion toward the vampire conversing lowly with another of his species in the entryway.
"This is the future…"
She didn't know until afterward, but the glance she bestowed on the vampire's guest was like fumbling blindly across the trigger of a gun. That face…She'd seen it before. In another time, a less civilized place, with matted hair and eyes bright with massacre. But the features were the same. The features hadn't aged a day.
Maryann was thrilled and mystically stupefied. It was a rare occasion when her past caught up with her. She had a tendency to eradicate any threads she wove in the fabric of the universe, and her disciples never remembered her (should she bother to leave them in one piece). An acquaintance this old was a remarkable treat, and, if it was not him, surely he was a reincarnation. It was unbelievable to think he could actually be –
"Godric," she marveled, breathless.
Excitement tinged her spirit at the immediate reaction the name received. Both of the vampires swiveled in her direction, the atmospheric energy about the maenad imploding with the unexpected. She winked at Sookie before drawing nearer to the familiar face; the gods could not have sent a more explicit sign of the telepath's ability to bring forth her lord.
"Is it you?"
Maryann waited out the question with festering knots of anticipation. But there was no response. The wide eyes she thought she knew mimicked her transfixion blankly, without the tiniest flicker of recognition. He did not even appear confused, barely curious.
The maenad felt herself deflate. Not only was this being not Godric. He was also a hopeless bore –a gaping drain of energy. She said a silent apology to Dionysus and her brother of the past for believing he had any connection to this sad vampire.
A flash of color was all it took to change her mind.
Stark and disruptive, and only just peeking out from the collar of his shirt, Maryann's eye latched onto a slither of ink that restored her hopes in an instant. She stalked to the guest in question, gripping the hem dropping below his throat to pull it down further. The shirt was soft, the fabric natural, and it gave easily to her will.
What her finagling revealed was too much Godric's, impossible even for a reincarnation to gain access to. The collar of the shirt peeled away to unveil another collar; a tattooed, spiked piece of artwork which had not been ingrained in Maryann's memory by any run of the mill needle. They didn't make them like that anymore.
She released the shirt. It bounded back into place as swiftly as her eyes returned to the boyish face. She regarded him in awe, reaching up and framing snowy cheeks with open palms.
"You are Godric." And yet he was not in the same moment –an old friend in the guise of a stranger. "How can this be?"
"You know her?"
The question belonged to the blond vampire, who was glancing between the maenad and her past from underneath a furrowed brow. In response, the one that she'd affirmed was Godric studied her with a potent whiff of concentration.
He hesitated; she waited for comprehension to emblaze his eyes… "I don't remember her."
Maryann's arms dropped as if he'd knotted sandbags to her wrists.
"But you must remember."
There would be no purpose to Dionysus sending her a sign that did not know her. Hearing her identity on his lips was the only way she could be assured she was on the right path and not wrong about Sookie. Without that, the telepath's discovery would be exactly like all the others –each and every one a disappointment.
Godric was still staring, "My name, where did you learn it?"
Unless Maryann was to make him remember.
Ignited with the desperation of last resort, she seized his hands. Her fingers curled around his downturned ones while her thumbs rested over the notches of his knuckles.
She squeezed, "I'll remind you."
Maryann tipped her face toward the ceiling, neck extending backward as her eyes closed to make way for other senses. The energy contained here was a different sort than what she channeled in the presence of those like Tara and Eggs. Human cores were held open for her; most welcomed her inside, and even the resistant were powerless to stop the invasion of her supremacy.
Supernatural energy, like what the vampires possessed, was by some great misfortune not simply hers for the taking. It was inaccessible to Maryann without consent. Only the supernatural themselves had the skeleton key that would unlock them to her, a safety net installed for the tedium of balance.
If Sookie's telepathy had been in doubt, there was nothing further to ask about it now. Whether the red-haired, Bon Temps barmaid was a credible source or not, Sookie was most definitely something collectable. That was proof enough of her worthiness to Maryann. Godric's energy, though, was even more inaccessible than she expected.
Every tremor of power shooting out from her seemed to be lost in hollow space. There was no rebound, like there was in the usual case of supernaturals. The waves she sent through him entered and then vanished, as if swallowed whole with nothing to bounce off of.
Maryann's vibrations grew more intense in pursuit of Godric's core. She may not have been able to uncoil supernatural energy, but she could touch the shield surrounding it. She knew from experience, and memories of the very hands she held, that the mutation protecting it was within reach. It was this that enabled her to force Sam Merlotte to shift into a dog, or whatever the appropriate special effect may be.
The visual caused Sookie to echo one of Tara's favorite existential questions: "What the fuck?"
Why Godric's essence lurked so far from the surface was a mystery. She waded through miles of dormancy, dropping below the border of consciousness. The rhythms of the chants in her head were a crack's width from his spirit's burial ground when the maenad's searching graces struck solid.
Ice. Maryann couldn't think of when she last encountered anything so cold. The chill slowed her resources to a degree that made her wonder if she was pressing against the right personal component.
Then she heard him breathe. A long draw of air was whisked noisily down his throat –the needy rasp of a man on his deathbed. Godric's fingers constricted around hers like steel cables. The distinctive click of fangs pulled southward assured the maenad she'd hit precisely where she should have.
She pulled her seeking ropes back to herself and calmed the flares of energy ricocheting off her nerves. The vibrations rolling through her ceased, and Maryann opened her eyes to behold Godric's, his enlightened gaze drilling into her pupils as if their depths held the elixir of life itself.
"Callisto," he proclaimed, and the retired title was never more satisfying to hear.
She clasped her hands together with a rejoiceful clap. Her accompanying expression was broad, bold, and boisterous.
Thank you, my lord.
"What did you do?" the blond vampire interjected, self-involved enough to think she'd respond to the threat in his growl.
She didn't spare him a slither of focus.
"I go by Maryann these days, even though they call me just about everything. Do you still consider yourself Godric?"
"Godric is my name."
"Well, it probably is. But you're not the feral boy I met –how long has it been? 1700 years? 1800?" She waited for Godric's confirmation.
His head bobbed in walleyed astonishment, "At least."
Maryann threw her arms around the ancient boy's neck, unwilling to deny herself physical testimony of his significance and unable to see the reason behind denying herself to begin with.
"Sweet savage…" she sighed deeply, tightening her hold. "Tonight is the night the stars have aligned for me. I know more surely now than ever."
Her embrace was met with absolute rigidity. Maryann could feel his shoulder pressing against her face, strained into an unprepared half-shrug, as if she'd assaulted him with affection. She whisked the implications of such body language away for a possible later, and then she angled her mouth toward his ear.
"He's coming," she whispered.
The news spurred the immobile limbs at Godric's sides into action. They bent sharply at the elbows in the very same instant that he seized the maenad's arms, forcibly peeling her apart from him. She stumbled, jostled in a fabulous way by the speed of the separation. And to think she'd almost neglected to recall the vampire tendency to accelerate with age.
The blond vampire seemed determined to ensure that she would never neglect it again.
It was all very sudden. The near-incident would have passed as 'unpredictable' (Maryann's favorite sort of event), but Godric turned out to be well prepared for his reaction. Maryann just caught the blur of him coming at her. The laughter on her lips had traveled far enough to evoke a smile, and then Godric showed an open hand to his fellow corpse –an immobile wave –and her attacker halted.
The maenad was crestfallen for but a moment before she found the entire situation funny. A giggle spawned a few more as she partook in the outrageous confusion she'd inspired in Sookie. Allowing anyone to see her through rational eyes was detrimental to her mission, or so she'd uncovered a handful of centuries ago with some exquisitely uncivilized tribe. That, however, did not make bafflement any less of a sport. With a strong spice of anger and frustration, the self-restrained vampire was at a loss which was even more pleasing.
"Okay, I know gettin' asked this over and over is really annoying, but somethin' like you has to be used to it," Sookie said in Maryann's general direction. "What are you?"
"I'm a social worker."
Maryann's head spun toward Godric with mischievous, raised eyebrows. Keeping secrets was so much more fun when someone else was in the know with you. The very reason why people longed to share them was that they weren't supposed to. Wrong was human nature. As soon as rules were placed in their way, the desire to break them was born in the affected.
Godric was in the thicket of the know now. Maryann could see the mutual knowledge in him as well as she could sense it. He saw her for what she was. Because of her, he remembered everything.
He didn't return her quirk of comradeship.
"What are you here for?" His voice was flat.
Hers was sloped with feeling, "I found it."
Maryann was sure he wouldn't have to search around the room to deduce whom the sacrifice was. She was right.
"Her?"
The approximating dart of his eyes was for Sookie, and a toothless grin formed a deep valley on the maenad's face. She abruptly neared tears again. It felt so incredibly wonderful to be able to tell a being who understood what this meant to her, for her –to tell another that knew, at least in part, how bottomless her quest had been.
Her expression must have been answer enough.
"What about me?" Sookie demanded.
Maryann watched Godric's gaze linger silently on the blond vampire and replied for him:
"You're special."
And her heart would be too. The maenad could imagine the organ in all its gruesome glory. She could imagine the thudding life force hammering against her palm; how loud the sacrifice would scream; how quickly the empty chest cavity would flood with the hot burgundy that would paint her weighted hands, an oozing, muscular beacon for her love…for her Dionysus.
She could see it, and so could Godric. There was a bleeding future smeared on his face when he turned his head back to Maryann. But none of the anticipatory thrill she thought it would bring came with it. The ancient boy had always been dead. Now he looked it. The lines of exhaustion in the young skin were so deeply etched that even she felt like a child.
The extreme chill of his energy, the distance of it from anyplace near accessible, churned about in Maryann's thoughts. It caused another piece of fate's puzzle to fall into place for her, and suddenly she knew why the god's sacrifice was vacationing in Dallas.
She knew why Godric had come to her.