Author's Note: I'm sorry this chapter took so long. My life has gotten pretty hectic in the past week. My job isn't giving me enough hours, so I've been job hunting like crazy, which has so far turned up nothing. It's been stressful, but writing this story has been helpful in getting me through it. I hope you guys like this chapter!
Disclaimer: I own Gemma Leland and part of the plot associated with her. The rest of the plot and characters belong to Alan Ball, creator of True Blood, and Charlaine Harris, the author of the Southern Vampire Mysteries.
Chapter 11
The euphoria of my newly-revealed ability quickly faded, and I was once again reminded of the mystery I needed to solve. For the remainder of the night, I sat in Fangtasia, obsessing over my next move.
I went over what I knew. The werewolves had kidnapped Bill Compton and tried to attack Sookie Stackhouse, also. They knew who my maker was and may have had something to do with me being 'brought over' as a vampire. Before I rose, something happened to my maker and, somehow, I was able to get away.
That was the part of the mystery that bothered me the most. If the werewolves had wanted me so badly, it did not make sense that they would leave my grave unattended, especially so close to when I was supposed to wake.
When I rose, I recalled, the sky was completely black, so the sun had set quite some time before. Some vampires, as I understood, rose somewhat earlier. Not when the sun was still up, but rather shortly after sunset, when the sky was still a lighter navy color. This meant there could have been some time, possibly half an hour or so, between my maker's rise and mine.
I began to wonder if my maker had been dragged out of the grave, or instead, if he or she had gotten up of their own free will.
This conundrum consumed me for the remainder of the night. In the wee hours of the morning, Fangtasia closed and the few patrons that remained filed out the door. I stayed to help clean up a bit, but as daybreak approached, I grew incredibly tired, nearly unable to function. Eric and Pam got into his Corvette and, bidding them farewell, I took off toward Bon Temps. I was thankful for the few minutes of solitude my run to the cemetery would elicit.
By the time I reached the mausoleum, I knew the only way to answer my question was to return to the last place I wanted to visit. Somewhere in that grave, I believed, was a clue that would tell me what happened in the time between the sunset and my awakening.
As soon as I lay down in the tomb, I fell into a death-like sleep, biding my time until the sun set.
The second my eyes were open, I was running out of the mausoleum and out into the night. I had to somehow find my grave. Even with my ability to remember directions with minute precision, it would be difficult to find the grave. The woodland between Shreveport and Bon Temps was enormous, nearly impossible to navigate even with a compass and a map. I had gotten extremely lucky that first night.
Evidently, somebody had been watching over me that night.
I remembered that after I dug myself out, I had sprinted to the highway, which was only a mile or two away, give or take. The first thing I needed to do was find that road and retrace my steps.
After a few minutes, I emerged in Shreveport. I weaved my way down the streets of Shreveport, quickly finding the sign for Highway 71. I followed it out of the Shreveport city limits, out into the Louisiana wilderness. Excitement coursed through me when I found the first sign I saw that first day. Shreveport, 5 miles it said in big white letters, exactly the same as that night. I had not been far from that sign when I emerged on the highway. I ran for a few seconds before steeling my nerves and turning into the woods.
The familiar panic of my first night of vampire existence filled me as I ran. I was scared that some of the wolves may have still been in those woods and they would find me as soon as I walked into the clearing. I listened carefully as I ran, hearing no sounds of voices, crackling fires, or anything else indicative of a presence in the woods. This did little to ease my worried mind.
The trees began to thin slightly. I slowed down to a walk as the clearing came into view. My chest felt tight despite my lack of heartbeat. I came to a stop, tempted to turn around and run away. I knew that was cowardly, though. So, drawing strength from within myself, I took a tentative step out into the clearing.
The grave was exactly how I left it. Thankfully, there had been no rain in the past few days. There were two long indentations in the earth, mine on the left, my maker's on the right, with a sort of wall separating the two. I got onto my knees, staring at the open wound in the earth. Before me was the place where I had transformed from a human into something entirely different; something alive, yet somehow dead. It felt sacred, yet repulsive.
It took several minutes to pull myself out of my trance. Shaking my head, I began digging through the dirt for any foreign objects. In my section, I felt worms, rocks, and clumps of dirt. Nothing was out of the ordinary. I turned my attention to my maker's side. I looked at it with reservation. Though I did not know what had happened to him or her in that time before I awoke, somehow I knew it had resulted in something terrible. It felt disrespectful to defile their grave.
This isn't their final resting place, Gemma, get a grip.
Trying not to think too much about what I was doing, I began digging through the rest of the grave. Almost immediately, my hand met something hard that obviously did not belong there. My fingers wrapped around it, plucking it out of the ground. It was a small, heavy object caked in mud. Quickly, I picked off the mud with my razor-sharp fingernails, revealing letters and an irregular shape. In my hand was a thick refrigerator magnet in the shape of the state of Mississippi. In big, bold letters on the front was written the word 'Jackson.'
I was nearly blown backwards when I saw this item. Evidently, my maker had left me a clue about where to find the wolves and maybe even this Edgington person. I began to wonder, was my maker still alive? Was this a cry for help, a sort of S.O.S.?
Frantically, I shoved the magnet in my pocket and began digging again, hoping I could find more clues. Suddenly, near the center divider, my hand hit something that instantly made my skin burn like it was on fire. I cried out in pain, yanking my hand out and clutching it to my chest. A large burn mark marred the side of my hand, but it quickly healed itself before my eyes. It was impossible for something to be that white hot under the dirt.
There was only one thing I knew that burned vampires that severely. It had to be silver.
Cautiously, I began shifting away some of the dirt around where I knew the silver to be. I dared not touch it again with my bare skin. Thinking quickly, I pulled off my shirt, wound it around my hand, and wiped away the remaining mound of dirt. There before me were two silver chains. They were thick, giving it the appearance of a chain a person would use to tie up a strong dog. They were both short, though, like together they had been used to bind a vampire's wrists together.
I was shocked by this item. The chain proved that my maker had been a captive, indicating that I had also been a prisoner. The part that astounded me, though, was that the chain had literally been pulled apart. Part of a broken link stuck out of the dirt.
It seemed my question had been answered. In the minutes before I rose from death, my maker had broken the chains that bound them and escaped, leaving me behind.
Maybe that was the reason my grave had been unattended. Maybe the wolves were already looking for another vampire, the one who created me.
My thoughts became muddled, incoherent. The magnitude of my whole situation was falling on me and my brain could not process it all. Not thinking clearly, I wrapped the silver chain in my shirt, and clad only in my bra and jeans, began running toward Shreveport.
When I reached the Fangtasia parking lot, several eyes turned to me. One of those pairs belonged to Pam, who was standing beside the bouncer in front of the door. As soon as she saw me, she came running over, giving me a very threatening glare.
"Where have you been?" she demanded. "And why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
Without speaking, I showed her my wadded-up shirt. She gave it a strange look as I began to pull away some of the cotton cloth. A corner of the silver chain glimmered in the artificial light radiating from the building. Before I could fully reveal my discovery, Pam rapidly slammed her hand down, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone else saw. Seeing that no one was looking our way, she put her arm around me and began leading me toward the back of the building.
"We'll go through the delivery entrance," she explained as we approached the large, gray door. "That way, maybe you will not draw any more attention."
Once we were inside, Pam led me straight into the restroom. A single human woman was doing her makeup in the mirror. Pam quickly ushered her out, to which the human protested. However, once we were alone, she locked the door, turning back to me.
"Why are you walking around holding a silver chain?" Pam demanded. I walked over to the mirrors, dumping the two halves of the chain in the sink.
"I went back to my grave tonight," I answered, looking over my stained shirt. "I found that broken chain buried in the dirt. I also found this."
I pulled the refrigerator magnet out of my pocket. Pam plucked it out of my palm, turning it over in her hands. Her eyes met mine again, her face stony and expressionless.
"You think your maker left this for you to find?"
"Yes, I think they knew I was going to want to find these wolves," I answered as I leaned against the sink that held the silver chains. "And, just maybe, that is where my maker is also. Maybe this is a sort of call for help."
Incredulously, Pam stated, "Eric thinks your maker is dead."
"I know, but he can't know for sure. I need to find out. I can't just let this go. The answers to what happened in my last two weeks of humanity are out there, and I think I will find them in Jackson, Mississippi."
My head was still swimming. I put my hand to my forehead, closing my eyes and focusing on my thoughts. Somehow, I needed to get to Jackson, but I have no money and no vehicle. I heard the door shut and, looking up, I realized that Pam had left the room. In a matter of seconds, she had returned and was holding a clean pair of tight black pants, a blood-red blouse, and a new pair of red ballet flats. I also noticed she was wearing a pair of thick black gloves. After she handed me the clothes, she walked over to the sink and grabbed the silver chains.
"You better clean yourself up, you're a mess," Pam said before walking back out of the restroom.
Turning toward my reflection, I noticed I had a few smears of dirt on my face. Using hand soap and water, I quickly washed my face and arms and proceeded to tear off my dirty clothes and replace them with the new, fashionable clothes Pam had picked out for me.
With a quick brush of my fingers through my hair, I walked out to the main bar area. Pam was standing with her back to the wall, her arms akimbo, no longer holding the chains. I quickly made my way to her side.
As I opened my mouth to speak, Pam cut me off.
"Eric is never going to allow you to leave," she stated matter-of-factly. I did not answer. I knew she was right. Eric had already blown up at me for going out into the woods alone looking for the werewolves. There was no chance he was going to let me go all the way to Jackson in pursuit of these creatures.
But he did not understand. None of these vampires understood. The pain I felt for my stolen humanity ate away at me every waking moment. And there was no cure; I could not reverse what had happened. For the rest of my existence, I would be a monster, a creature of the night, a villain born from nightmares.
An abrupt crash punctured my thoughts. I spun around to see numerous men, heavily armed and dressed all in black, come storming through the front door. Humans all around me began to scream, running in a stampede to get away from the threat. Vampire patrons stood in defensive stances, ready for a fight. I did neither, instead standing still against the wall, completely at a loss for what to do.
I turned and looked at Pam. She stood still as stone, watching with obvious fear in her azure eyes as more vampire officers came stomping into the building. Her blue eyes turned to mine, and in a desperate whisper, she ordered, "Run."
"What?" I asked, not comprehending what was happening.
Fire filled Pam's eyes. "Gemma, you need to run. Get out of her right now. Do not ask questions, just go."
Before I could ask what she was talking about, Pam turned on her heels and was through the door to the basement in the time it would take a coin to drop.
Fear gripped me as I turned back toward the vampires. They began flipping chairs, throwing alcohol bottles to the floor, ripping open cabinets and rifling through the contents. Several stormed down the hall that led to Eric's office, some even throwing open the doors to the bathrooms. They were looking for something, but what it was, I could not imagine. What had Eric and Pam done?
"My dear, I believe it would be best if you left," came a voice from beside me. My eyes snapped over, met by the gaze of a short, bald male vampire. His dark eyes were locked on me, standing in sharp contrast against his ghostly-white pallor. He was wearing a suit and, despite his size, he looked intimidating. I thought about what Pam said and, putting my head down, I quickly made my way to the exit.
When I exited the building, I had no idea what to do or where to go. I looked back over my shoulder, only seeing the closed doors and empty parking lot of Fangtasia. I debated my next move. As I stood under the light of the street lamps, a blur suddenly ran up the street and straight toward me. Before I could jump out of the way, it had me by the shoulders.
Standing before me was Eric, looking distressed. I began to shake.
"Where is Pam?" he demanded.
"I-I don't know," I said shakily, still shocked by his swift appearance. "I think she went down into the basement."
Eric looked frightened, casting a desperate glance toward the building. His icy blue eyes turned back to me.
"Gemma, you're not safe here," he said rapidly. "Get to your cemetery, I will come find you when this is over."
Releasing me, Eric turned and ran into the bar, leaving me standing alone in the parking lot, my feet rooted to the ground. I did not want to run away, I wanted to go in and find out what was going on. I thought maybe I could help somehow.
I heard a blood-curdling scream from inside the bar. Immediately, I could tell it was Pam. My blood ran cold.
After a few nervous seconds, I spun around and ran toward Bon Temps.