Part Four

Playing with Fire

"He's right here." Claude's voice carried toward Claudine. She was helping Marcán to his feet. Sweat beaded over his lip. He was weak, but he would live.

"Go ahead." Marcan's voice was weak. From where he leaned against Claudine, he could see Preston was in bad shape.

"Take him," Claudine told a fairy foot soldier next to her. He slid his arm under Marcán, and he took him from Claudine. She rushed over to Claude.

"Is he alive?" she asked, thinking of Sookie.

"Barely," said the fairy that had stopped Preston's bleeding. He pulled the cap off a flask. With one hand behind Preston's head, he tilted him and poured the contents of the flask into his mouth. It would help slow the iron poisoning. This was the best they could do at the moment. "He's ready to move," said the fairy. He stood, his large pouch at his waist, and he went to stabilize the other wounded.

"Help me with him." Claude took one of Preston's arms and draped it across his shoulders. With one hand on Preston's wrist and his other arm wrapped around him, he hauled him up. Claudine took the other side. Her eyes darted to Preston's chest and shoulder.

"They weren't killing wounds," said Claude. "Missed any vital organs. He can still make it." He tried to reassure Claudine. The strain on her face made Claude's stomach knot up with tension.

"We need to hurry." Claudine picked up their pace. The sooner they could get a Master Healer to tend to him, the better his chances of survival.

. . .

In Bon Temps, Sookie laid in her bed. She stirred under the warmth of her blankets. Her eyelids opened slightly. Then the image of the psychotic fairy flashed across her mind. With a start, Sookie bolted up in bed. She ran her hands over her body. Her heart was beating so quickly, it made her chest ache.

Her eyes quickly darted around her surroundings. She was in her room, and she was unharmed. The lamp on her bedside table filled the room with a soft gentle glow. Next to her, Jason was sound asleep. He had pulled a chair next to the bed. Her brow furrowed.

"Jason." Sookie watched him shift in the chair. "Jason."

His hand came up to his face and he rubbed his eyes. "No," Dermott replied. "My great niece, I am your uncle." He stood slowly and walked toward her open bedroom door. "The resemblance is uncanny, is it not?" Sookie nodded her head in agreement. She didn't speak. With her telepathy she scanned his mind. He looked like Jason, but he didn't sound anything like him, and his mind didn't feel anything like Jason's.

Dermott disappeared into the dark hallway. Suddenly, Sookie felt vulnerable; uncertain. Yet, something deep in her soul told her she was safe. She moved to slide out of bed then she stopped. Her head throbbed with the remains of a headache.

"This should help." Dermott returned. He handed Sookie a few ibuprofen and a glass of water. "Neave gave you quite a blow," he said. "You'll have a headache for a while."

"Thanks." She took the pills and swallowed. "There were crazy fairies here." Sookie's throat tightened. "They set my car on fire."

"I'm afraid your car was damaged beyond repair," Dermott said. "Neave and Lochlan, the 'crazy fairies' have also been," Dermott paused thoughtful, "Damaged beyond repair. We will not be seeing them again."

"They're dead?"

"They have 'bit the big one'." Dermott smiled brightly. "They will no longer pose a threat to you or anyone."

Sookie was thoughtful for a moment. "Okay," she spoke up softly, "So you're my uncle." Sookie was as certain as she was when Niall told her he was her great-grandfather. Perhaps under different circumstances she may have pondered where such an absolute conviction came from. If pushed, she could only say that glancing down at her arm, it is her arm; glancing at Dermott, he is her great uncle.

"Yes. I am Dermott."

"Nice to meet you Dermott."

"A pleasure to meet you my great niece."

"What happened?" Sookie asked. "Where's everybody at?"

Dermott took several minutes to explain how he had showed up and about Bill helping him dispatch their enemies.

Sookie shook her head. "That was a bad idea." She cringed. "Bill, is he okay?"

"Yes," Dermott answered.

"Amelia how is she?" she asked. "Is she okay?"

"Hey kiddo." Amelia appeared in her doorway, dressed in a soft green lounging set. "Quite a night, huh."

"I'm sorry to get you mixed up—"

"Stop," Amelia interrupted Sookie before she went into full 'guilt' mode. "What's important is that we're all safe. Maybe a bit banged up, but nonetheless, we're still alive and kicking."

Sookie moved to slide off the bed.

"You should rest," Dermott suggested.

"Human needs," Sookie replied.

"Yes," Dermott stood up. "Of course. Sorry. Let me excuse myself."

"Why are you here?" Sookie asked when he reached the doorway.

"To protect you," he replied automatically and casually. He turned and disappeared into the dark hallway.

"I'm heading up stairs," said Amelia. "Mór is staying the night."

"Good night." Sookie gave Amelia a reassuring smile.

A moment later she was alone and in the privacy of her room. She attended to her needs and afterwards paused to see herself in the mirror. Everything looked fine. No cuts. No bruises.

She opened the door to an empty bedroom. Seeing her vacant bed suddenly filled her with an ache at the center of her chest. The thought of Preston danced across her mind. She missed him. Sookie took a step toward her bed and then froze.

Someone was suddenly standing in her bedroom.

"Claudine."

Sookie's bedroom door to the hallway flung open. Dermott came rushing in.

"Claudine." Dermott sounded relieved. His body relaxed.

A split second later Mór with a sword in his hand raced in. "Damn woman," Mór gruffed. "I could have killed you."

"You could have tried," Claudine sassily replied.

Sookie became aware of Claudine's appearance. Her brow tensed. Claudine's face and hair looked unkempt; not her usual put-together appearance. She looked like she'd been fighting.

"Have you been fighting?" Sookie asked.

"Yes." Claudine sighed sadly. "I was."

"Do you want to use my bathroom?"

"Preston's been hurt." Claudine's angelic face, contorted with sorrow. Sookie's body instantly flexed. "I'm so sorry."

Mór exhaled. He said nothing though he hoped that his friend had met his death bravely.

A heavy weight of silence fell over the room.

Sookie felt her entire being quiet until she heard nothing. A cold chill crawled over her skin. Glancing up, she watched Claudine's face glisten with tears. She looked vulnerable; delicate. Sookie thought she looked beautiful.

"Sookie?" Claudine was unsure if Sookie heard her. Her expression was blank; unreadable. "Sookie."

Sookie hauled in a deep breath. Numbness, like Novocain, had spread over her. At the center of her chest, she felt a biting heat, like a hot iron scorching her body over her heart. Peripherally, she sensed muffled noises. Claudine was talking to her, but Sookie heard nothing. It took several moments before she felt her voice forming at the back of her throat. She swallowed hard. "Where is he?"

"He's being treated," Claudine explained. "I don't know if he's going to make it."

Nausea swiftly slammed into Sookie. She raced to her bathroom and emptied what little content was still in her stomach. It was messy.

Several minutes later, she reappeared. Mór was sitting in the chair; his expression grave. Dermott was on the edge of her bed. Claudine was still standing. Her beautiful face was twisted with the strain, of what Sookie imagined, was the face that people who had been tasked to deliver bad news, wore.

"Can I see him?" Unshed tears rimmed her eyes.

"He can't travel." Claudine would never do what she was about to do if she or Claude thought for a certainty that Preston would pull through. "Claude moved him to a private location. Niall doesn't know; nobody but us. If you hurry I'll take you to him."

"It's forbidden," Dermott replied. He was on his feet. If they were caught, if Sookie were caught, it meant death to everyone.

"Preston wouldn't like this." Mór's voice was brusque.

"It is too dangerous," said Dermott. "Sookie can be killed. We can all be executed."

"Not if we're not caught." Claudine was confident in her conviction that she was doing the right thing. She turned her attention to Sookie. "It's up to you."

"I don't want to risk anyone but myself."

"Too late," Claudine quickly replied. "If you want to see him, I'll take you."

"I'll take her." Dermott came to stand next to Claudine.

"Sookie." Mór's rough voice drew her attention to him. She turned to look at Mór. The movement felt sluggish; unreal. "You understand that if you enter Faery and you're discovered, you'll be executed."

"We won't get caught," Claudine confidently replied. "I can feel it."

"If Preston pulls through and you're caught." Mór ignored Claudine. "You need to think this through. What it would do to him."

"He needs me." Sookie's voice was soft; vulnerable. The muscles in her throat were so tight, it hurt to talk.

"I'm Sookie's fairy godmother," replied Claudine. "I take full accountability. If anyone is to take her, it will be me. I'm responsible for her well-being."

"Taking her into the Lion's Den," Dermott pointed out, "Does not equate to keeping her safe and alive."

"Claudine can take me." Sookie swallowed the sharp pain welling at the back of her throat. She turned calmly; delayed shock, and went into her walk-in closet. A strange sensation filled Sookie. Her mind and her body seemed disconnected. She felt nothing, but a focused concentration to get to Preston.

"This is suicide," Mór grumbled. Sookie reappeared in jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers.

"Oberon's speed." Dermott hugged her.

"I don't know what you plan to accomplish with this little stunt," Mór said. He disapproved.

"Love," Sookie replied. That one word resonated in the others.

The room fell silent again. The three fairies stared at Sookie.

"I'm ready." Sookie looked up at Claudine. Her fairy godmother approached her and wrapped her arms around Sookie.

"It won't hurt," said Claudine.

"I know."

A blanket of warm light enveloped Sookie. Claudine's arms were motherly; protective. A different kind of security filled Sookie. It was reassuring and loving. Sookie kept her eyes closed and relaxed into Claudine's embrace. She resisted the overwhelming need to cry. Though she couldn't see, Sookie felt each time they paused, and then each time they moved again. Eventually, the warm light disappeared.

Sookie opened her eyes and slowly registered her new surroundings. The colorful floor beneath her feet was highly polished; it looked wet. The open latticed doors caught her attention. The light casted a calming color across the shimmery floors and over the simple furnishings. Like sunbeams glistening over the surface of a pond. Everything in the room felt like Niall, exotic and foreign. Sookie's eyes trailed to Claude and to the steps behind him that led to an elevated area hidden by panels of drapes.

"This is one of our family's private retreats," Claude explained. "As long as you stay within these walls you are safe from discovery."

Sookie nodded. "Where is he?" A short woman stepped out between the drapes carrying a tray. "Dr. Ludwig."

"Sookie." The doctor titled her head. Sookie still found it a paradox that someone so small, Dr. Ludwig was about three feet tall, could have such a deep voice. "You look well. He's been calling for you."

Something sharp, between fear and hope, bit Sookie's heart. "I want to see him." Her gaze darted from the doctor to Claudine.

"You can see him," said the doctor, "But he won't know you're here. He is unconscious. I had to sedate him. He was in a state of delirium from the poison and tried to teleport. He will sleep for a while. It'll do him good; allow the potions I've given him to do their job."

"Is he going to be okay?" Sookie asked.

"If he makes it through the night, yes, he will be fine physically," the doctor paused. "Mentally, there are no guarantees. Fairies have a hard time adjusting to," she paused, "Violent physical changes."

"What can we do for him?"

"I've done everything I can," said Dr. Ludwig. "We can only wait now and see if his body takes the healing."

"Your discretion as always is of utmost importance," Claudine told the doctor.

"As it always is." Dr. Ludwig sat her tray on a nearby ornate desk. Her face was framed in coarse golden brown hair gathered at the base of her neck in a bun. "I needn't remind you, though I am compelled to do so, you are all playing with fire." She glanced at Claude and Claudine; her round eyes settled on Sookie. "If he gets worse, call me."

"We will," Claudine replied.

"Good," abruptly said the doctor. She gathered her things and approached Sookie. She held out a small jar in front of her. "Apply the ointment, my own receipt, four times daily on the wounds. You can cool him with a damp cloth, only for comfort," Dr. Ludwig held up her finger for emphasis. "I need his fever to run its course and burn the poison out."

"Ok," Sookie breathed. She blinked and the short woman, who Sookie wasn't sure was a dwarf or a Hobbit, was gone.

"He's through the drapes." Claude gestured behind him.

"I'll be back." Claudine hugged Sookie.

"Thank you." Sookie's smile did not reach her worried and sad eyes.

Before Claude and Claudine disappeared, Sookie turned and tentatively made her way up the steps and between the drapes. Her hands trembled. Every nerve ending in her body was pulled tightly. All she knew was that Preston had been hurt, but other than that she wasn't sure what to be prepared for.

She slipped her hand between two drapery panels. The feather soft fabric brushed the back of her hand. Breathing deeply she stepped through the columns of thin fabric.

For an infinite second, all stood still.

Sookie gasped. A pained sad sound came from between her lips. Preston laid at the center of the bed. The covers were drawn to his waist, leaving his bare chest exposed. Her eyes trailed across the bandages covering his chest and shoulder and finally to the hand hidden in the same white bandaging.

The tears that she'd been holding back broke loose. Her body convulsed. Hot tears streaked her face. Her breaths caught between her cries. She gripped herself; crossing her arms tightly across her chest and stomach. In the filtered light, Preston's complexion was pale; chalky. He didn't look alive.

Panic filled her. Sookie rushed toward him. She knelt next to the bed. She had to touch him; she had to make sure he was still alive; still warm. Gingerly, she reached out and touched his arm. He was feverish.

The essential spark between them awoke from the contact. Sookie inhaled sharply and it felt like it was her first breath since Claudine told her he had been hurt. Sookie buried her face in the bed, her hands clinging to Preston's arm, and sobbed.

It took several moments for her tears to dry up. Her body rolled with the waves created by her strong emotions. When she finally settled, Sookie kissed Preston's arm, lovingly making her way toward his face. She reached out and brushed back his unruly hair away from his face. He was so hot to her touch.

"Please don't leave me." She traced the side of his face, leaving a trail of small tender kisses. Carefully, Sookie moved to lay next to him.

. . .