A/N A brief diversion here from Eric and Sookie just for this short chapter. Thanks for reading and for the encouraging comments! It's great to receive your thoughts and suggestions.

Chapter 5

Marcus was lapping the pool trying to get rid of his hangover and the vague sense of dread that had prompted him to down three quarters of a bottle of bourbon in the first place. As he touched down for his nineteenth lap, he caught sight of his mate Debbie hovering nervously by the door. When she saw he'd finally spotted her, she raised her hand and walked to the side of the pool, kneeling down and speaking low and fast.

'Marcus, you have to come. Clay's back. Don't know why, but it's major – it's looking like a fucking disaster.'

Marcus pushed back from the side of the pool and trod the water, eying his mate sceptically.

'It'd better be fucking major. He's not due back for another week. It'd better not be some of his bull shit...'

'Marcus, please. He's out front, ranting and raving. I wouldn't let him in. I think he's gone nuts.'

Marcus groaned and pulled himself out of the pool, rubbing himself down quickly before pulling on his sweat pants. What was the likelihood this was just some tedious fucking bull shit? Pretty damn high, he figured. Clay was as strong and loyal as they come, but ninety nine percent of the time he was also a total fucking arsehole. He was probably pissed at the inadequately stocked mini-bar at the motel, or the limited range of porn on the adult channels. Marcus padded bare-foot to his front porch, his long wet hair dripping uncomfortably down his back and his hangover still very much a reality. Jesus, this had better be good.

He froze when he saw his second-in-command pacing the deck like a lunatic. He was covered in blood and filth, wearing only a ragged pair of levis that barely covered his ass. Marcus choked down his astonishment, his anger and, yes, his fear. He adopted an attitude of absolute calm.

'What is it, Clay? Tell me.'

'Three dead.' He spat out the words, barely able to breathe.

'Who, Clay? How?'

'Nathan, Cooter, Phillipe. That vampire bitch, Pam.'

'I need a bit more to go on, Clay.' Marcus took a step forward, his hands extended, trying to calm the man down. Fuck, it was like dealing with a demented beast. 'Was it unprovoked? Exactly. What. Happened?'

Clay growled and for the first time met Marcus' cool gaze. 'In Merlotte's last night, Bill Compton showed up and there's that bar maid serving our table. Coot made some lewd remark. Compton went for him. We didn't take the bait, we just left; at that point, yeah, we still had our shit together. But we were riled up, Marcus, especially Coot and you know what he's like. We had to work it off, so we changed outside the bar. Just for the run back to the motel, we were not intending to kill. But then that fucking stupid waitress – her car broke down in the wood.'

'You killed Sookie Stackhouse?'

'No, no. But the blood took over, yeah. We – and I mean we, I'm not excluding myself from this – we probably would've killed her, yeah.'

'But the vampire...'

'Out of fucking nowhere. Can't even tell you what happened, not really. Four of us got out, didn't realise three were missing till we got over the parish line. We went back, but... nothing left of them.'

Marcus gazed at the floor for several moments, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

'So. Bill Compton arrives at Merlotte's by some peculiar coincidence and attacks the most vicious and unstable member of our pack for some throw-away line to a human he used to fuck? You leave pumped up and ready for a kill, and Sookie Stackhouse just happens to end up stranded in the woods half a mile from your motel...?'

His raised his eyes to Clay whose jaw dropped slightly as he caught Marcus' drift.

'It was a set up. Compton gets you riled up, you run into the night and he makes sure Stackhouse is right in the middle of harm's way with Pam circling the area. Maybe the girl was in on it, she probably still works for the king. Or he could have tampered with her car to make sure she broke down, I wouldn't put that past him. Whatever. We've been royally screwed, my man.'

'But why?'

'He sensed a threat? Wanted to warn us off? But to be frank, judging by the extremity of his provocation, I would suggest that the war is not over for Bill Compton. And if he wants a war...'

'He'll get one,' Clay said flatly.

'You're too right he fucking will.'