Chapter 2
Turned out, Sookie Stackhouse was just full of surprises. For all his experience in this world, Eric never could have predicted the events to come in the next few days. Never would have guessed he would be helping a vampire slayer hunt one of his own kind.
Slayers with Federal Marshall status were the U.S. Government's answer to growing problems with legal vampirism. Yes, representation with taxation and all that, but what happened when the undead got a little out of line? Washington didn't exactly trust the vampire lawyers' promises to take care of their own kind, and allowing a party outside the justice system deal with vampire outlaws smacked a bit too much of vigilantism for comfort in Washington.
Ergo, a new kind of law enforcement came into play.
Needless to say, the mortality rate was high.
But there were vampire slayers, and there were vampire slayers. Turns out his little Sookie made the latter category. Cliché's aside, she was born for this. The telepathy had always puzzled Eric; at times he thought he'd tasted fey in her blood, but not quite. Turns out reading minds was only an early symptom, not a diagnosis in itself.
Sookie was dhampir. Human, but resistant to glamour, possessing great strength, and speed, and accelerated healing. Still, all this did not make her invincible. Over the long years Eric had met two dhampirs, and had killed them both, as was his duty according to vampire law.
But with legality came complications, and the rules were changing.
Eric doubted he could harm her at any rate, whether the Authority demanded it of him or not. A completely unfair advantage, for she seemed more than willing to drive a stake through his heart.
Left over anger from a decade old misunderstanding.
He never thought there would be a chance for reconciliation. She'd proved far too stubborn to listen to reason before. Never returned his calls, refused to invite him in when he pleaded beneath her window for an open ear. In the end ego betrayed them both, and Eric gave up on her.
She moved away to New Orleans, away from the farmhouse that held too many memories to bear, and into a new life. Without him.
Eric growled for the pang that stabbed at him, somewhere between his heart and his soul. She'd ambushed him then, with her sweetness, slipped in the back door while he wasn't looking. In his world of grey she'd brought color, and life, and all the things he'd cut out centuries ago because they made him weak.
It had felt so good to let go.
In the end, he paid the price for it.
And he was still paying, apparently, for here he was, searching for a vampire with one fang, who was ambushing couples parking in the woods, killing them savagely. It was bad for business on both sides, really. Not the sort of thing he could allow in his area. Sookie knew this, and for the sake of saving lives alone, swallowed her temper and ego to appeal to his resources to find the bastard. He couldn't help but admire her nobility, even if it drove him to distraction.
Forensics had found the broken fang in the last victim, which he found curious. It was no normal thing for a vampire to lose a fang, even amidst intense savagery.
Honestly, savagery was an activity his kind excelled at.
Which led Eric, vampire detective, to run a line of inquiry to the Magister. The ex-inquisitioner retained a fondness for tortures centering around the fang, and Eric couldn't help but wonder if some punishment hadn't knocked one loose, so to speak, and left a disgruntled vampire half-mad. The Viking found out one of the most recent victims of the Magister's justice had been convicted of raping another vampire's bonded-on one of his more creative nights, instead of simply putting the perp to death, the Magister ordered him castrated with silver.
In other words, that shit don't grow back.
Eric couldn't help but think that he too would be driven to jealously slaughter those who could still enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, after such a sentence.
As the sheriff approached the coven house where the eunuch lived, he sensed something amiss. Violence in the air, the scent of blood heavy on the breeze. Eric raced forward to find a slaughterhouse, beginning with the front porch. A vampire body lay sprawled across the front steps, its head kicked several feet away, a surprised expression staring out.
Amidst blood, there also lingered the scent of Sookie.
But all remained far too quiet.
He followed the trail of blood, passing three more vampires gone to meet their final death.
Apparently, Marshall Stackhouse boasted a certain proficiency with a sword as well as a gun.
Dread filled his heart as Eric walked on. For amidst the vampire blood, he suddenly sensed the warm, heady notes of human blood as well.
Dhampir blood.
Eric raced forward, and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight in the back bedroom of the coven house. There was Marshall the eunuch, with a sword through his heart, but still twitching minutely. If he could dislodge the sword, he could yet live, and for that Eric jerked it loose, beheading the twisted vampire with a single skillful blow.
And the sight that truly alarmed him, Sookie lay in a twisted pile across the room, covered in blood. Far too much of her own. A dent in the wall above her told the story of a vampire slayer being pitched across the room with the force of a wrecking ball, and the blow alone would have killed a normal human.
Eric knelt beside Sookie, and knew that though she had not died immediately on impact, she would pass soon without his help. He could sense it in the way only a creature who dealt so closely with life and death every night could. Eric pulled her fragile body up onto his lap, and a thousand memories of better nights crashed over him like a ton of bricks. Long nights upon soft sheets, two lovers stranded happily on the island that was their bed.
Stolen kisses, and stolen time.
She would be furious, he knew, as he tore open his wrist with fangs. His ancient blood poured out to add to the medley upon her.
She might even try to kill him.
He was willing to take the risk. It was the only way she could live, and Eric couldn't stand the thought of a world without Sookie Stackhouse in it. Even if she was not for him.
But this time, she would be for him. He thought this without joy for intrigue. The victory came without a sense of triumph. As he fed her his blood, stroking her throat to coax an unconscious Sookie to swallow, a near crippling sorrow filled the Viking vampire. There would be no more lies between them, and the truth could drive them mad.
Eric bowed his head as he felt the bond take hold. As his ancient blood did its work, repairing fragile human flesh, his magic filled her every nook and cranny, every vein and the marrow of her bones.
Lifting the vampire slayer as though she weighed no more than a feather, Eric held her close, and exited the house, taking to the air. He left the mess for the sunlight, for he had more important matters to attend to.
No more secrets between them, he mused as the wind whipped at his hair.
This night marked the third time Sookie Stackhouse knew his blood.
Bonded.
Perhaps there was a little triumph in it, he dared admit, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. But mostly, he felt apprehension for the moment when the tempest known as Sookie opened her eyes once more.
It was shaping up to be a long night.
A/N: In the words of sookie…you want more? Lol. A huge thank you to everyone who left a review, I can't convey how much I appreciate the courtesy!