A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.
What winds doth blow in central Colorado during the winter months, with temperatures often below freezing. Fabulous.
Luckily, Sookie and Eric are canoodling, or screwing, in the back of a borrowed pick-up truck on a warm Atlanta night in a dark parking lot.
Chapter 13
"Eric, don't stop; don't ever stop." This time it was an order, not a request.
And with those words, I felt him drive into me once more, and then tense as he had his release.
Although I had not had an orgasm, I contentedly nestled him further into the circle of my legs and locked my ankles behind his back. I'd wait for him to recover, and I'd make him do it again. Maybe several times.
Third time had to be a charm, right?
A light snore startled me from my less-than-satisfied post-coital musings. I paled.
"Eric, with all the recent drama, you aren't thinking about falling asleep, are you?" Cue the accusatory tone. Yes, I was fucked, ahem, but was it necessary to hang out the welcome sign? 'Calling all Sookie-seeking fiends, I'm here for the taking while my little Were-boyfriend enjoys his nap-time.'
Needless-to-say, I also wasn't very pleased at the prospect of a sex-drained Were draped over me if Vampires or some other form of creepy Southern-fried Supernatural being was seeking my tender flesh.
"Wake-the-fuck-up, Wolf-man." I tried pulling his hair, hoping for some sort of reaction.
"Sookie…" he mumbled and turned his head away from me.
With Eric, my hotshot protector, now temporarily dead to the world, it was well past time for a sober evaluation of my limited options. Although I was sorely tempted to dress him in pink tights and leave him to sleep-it-off in the truck (if I could only somehow rustle up the tights), doing so wouldn't get me much. Plus, even I knew it was a bad idea to even think about leaving whatever limited protection was offered by the flatbed of the Ford.
'Think!' I harshly admonished myself. I'd sort it out logically, as my Granmere had taught me to do at an early age. Desperately wishing I had a Diet Coke, I began.
Fact Number One: Eric and I were both more vulnerable to capture by the bad Vamps with my Wolf sleeping off the effects of his orgasm.
I was momentarily diverted by another stunner of an idea: Were there mysterious-and-possibly-deadly 'Others' equally interested in our capture?
I shook Eric again to get his opinion on the subject, only to elicit another stifled groan. Well, I'd have to file away that question away for later, if there was a 'later.'
Fact Number Two: Where was MY orgasm? Reminding myself it was sadly M-I-A, I grumpily shifted my hips and unceremoniously lifted my sleeping Wolf to settle him off to my side. In spite of my irritation with his typical male behavior, I couldn't help but notice he did have a fantastic ass. I resisted the temptation to bend over and kiss it, intent on completing my analysis.
Fact Number Three: I should not have been able to move a 200 pounds-plus Werewolf. Granted, in the privacy of my own bathroom, if the moon was dark, and it was Thursday, I would possibly admit to wearing a size 10, but only during the month(s) following the December holidays. Still, the weight differential was sizeable between the two of us; there definitely was something odd here.
Okay, time for a Side Note: Where exactly were we? Yeah, I knew it was a parking lot, but were we even close to Eric's Sire and the safety his house would afford us?
I paused, distracted as a sixth sense suggested I sit up and look around.
I instantly popped up to a sitting position, no longer encumbered by my sated Wolf, and immediately spied a Vampire flying through the air with a large, evil-looking stick in her hand. I had time to notice she was extremely well-shod before I took evasive action.
The slim, beautiful, young vampire slid her palms up and over her finely muscled arms, nervous anticipation heightening her awareness as she scanned the area for her prize, the True Human she sought. The witch hadn't been very precise with her scrying, covering her incompetence by suggesting the target's movement made pinpointing exact locations more difficult than usual. Or so the bitch had whined before Amelia grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. Leaving the little blonde tweety-bird unconscious had just barely made-up for the insult of the second outrageous fee the Witch had demanded from Amelia for her services.
Unfortunately, there was no sign of her prize over the four mile square she had scanned as recommended by her avian-like former companion. If she did not scent the True Human within the next few minutes, she was returning to the witch and finishing the job. She thought again that draining the Human would almost compensate for her so-far totally fucked night…she froze.
Silently cursing, she realized her irritation had so clouded her senses she very nearly missed the pick-up truck hidden behind the trees ahead of her. It was a long block away, and now Amelia concentrated. She caught the scent of the True Were and was momentarily distracted by the idea of draining the sweet animal blood. Knowing it was fresh and on the paw was very distracting; plus she was certain the animal had been at the aborted snatch-and-grab jazz club site earlier. She shivered in anticipation. Two-for-one! But first she would need a weapon against the Were.
Mentally retracing her steps, she recalled passing just the store front she needed. After returning to it and easily breaking the lock on the back door, she ripped a hole in the heavy metal gate and managed to enter the building without tripping the alarm, giggling as she did so. It was an absolute candy store for someone in her profession, and her discerning eye immediately focused on the long-handled tool with the deliciously vicious kick. It was covered in a sleek sheath of black Vibram with a molded handle; she tested its weight and found it to be perfect. The Wolf would never know what leveled him.
After he was taken down, she'd grab the True Human and deliver her mostly unharmed, taking just a sip or five of her blood. With luck, she'd retrieve her payment in time for her daily rest. Later, she'd go shopping.
Amelia cautiously approached the truck, having squelched her first instinct to rush it, vault over the side, and land on top of her prey; Weres could be unpredictable, and she didn't dare risk ruining her outfit. The scent of sex was thick around the vehicle; she'd noticed it immediately and hoped it meant she could catch both of them unawares. Suppressing several serial voyeuristic urges playing in her head, she readied her Were-immobilizer, as she thought of the inelegant but perfect stun gun, and stopped, crouching, a few yards from the bed. Just as she launched herself at the vehicle's preoccupied couple, having determined the positions of the post-coitus pair, the female target sat up and stared directly at her.
It was unnerving to be confronted by a mere Human when one was a successful Vampire Assassin with excellent clothes sense. Amelia hesitated just a fraction of a second while flying through the air, confidence restored as she realized the Were was asleep, snoozing after what must have been a vigorous mating session with the female.
It was a fateful decision, because the Human executed an impossibly accurate jerk of limbs, so quick even her eyes could not follow it, and the Vampire girl found herself gripped tightly by the throat, feet dangling, useless upper body bent backward over the side of the flatbed. She watched helplessly as her vaunted weapon, now beyond her reach, continued rolling uselessly over the lot's uneven concrete surface before slowing, eventually catching in a large seam. The blonde girl was using essentially the same grip Amelia had used on the witch earlier; the irony was not lost on her.
"Are those Manolo cage boots?" The incongruity of the question, delivered in a charming Southern accent, startled Amelia from her fruitless examination of the lost stun gun. In response, she stilled her frantically kicking feet and wrapped her hands, claws out, around the steel in the questioner's arm. After some vigorous but pointless struggling, she acknowledged her situation was tenuous at best and simply gave up. The target clearly wasn't Human; the assignment must have been a set-up. Her undead life as the Vamps' best female assassin (that gender modifier still rankled) was over.
"Do it quickly," she requested, her dignity intact, as she waited for the inevitable decapitation. It was what everyone in the Supe community seemed to instinctively 'know' about Vamps—rip the head off and 'poof'—no more annoying Vamp. What a way to go!
"Are you a Rogue Vamp?" The syrupy feminine voice was beginning to grate. Didn't her captor, soon-to-be executioner, know the rules? Fraternization with the victim just wasn't polite.
"I'm waiting." Amelia felt it was time to move things along. Neck held in such a way as to prevent her from clearly seeing the female holding her, she idly wondered if she would meet any of her victims in the afterlife. That could be embarrassing. And was the Were still sleeping it off? The not-Human (as she had begun to think of her, in the mere seconds remaining to her) must have really exhausted the poor beast.
More firmly this time, the question came, "Attention, please. Are you a girl Rogue Vampire sent to kidnap me, or something else?"
Girl? Quelling her impatience, she decided there was no harm in answering. The sun would be up soon, and one way or another, the not-Human had the advantage. It was annoying that she'd been Vampire for such a short time, but such was her fate. "I'm a trained Vamp assassin, but this job was presented as a simple snatch-and-grab. I've no idea what you mean by the phrase 'Rogue Vampire.' Aren't all Vampires by our very nature, rogues? If not, I would not have been double-crossed. Surely you know this, or you wouldn't be about to execute on a contract for my final death." She ended her overly long speech in rather a snit.
Rather than reply to Amelia's monologue, the not-Human seemed to be considering her next move. There was the sound of a fist hitting soft flesh, and the Were was heard to groan, 'Sookie?'
"Eric, help here please. I've caught a Vampire sneaking up on us, and I don't know what to do with her. Is she one of the 'rogue' creepies?"
The shuffling behind her increased, and a deep growl was her only warning before the Were vaulted over the side of the truck to land just outside her reach either by foot or claw.
"Sookie? How did you capture a Vampire?" The Were's voice was deep, rumbling in his throat; his naked form was most spectacular in its masculine display. She wasn't much into male animals, but his chest was well-formed, his thick, dark mane a heavy mass inviting fingers to wrap around his unruly locks, and his hips and long torso were compelling indeed. He'd definitely been recently aroused and she enjoyed the display of midnight curls emphasizing the juncture of his...
"Eric, put some clothes on, for pity's sake!" The not-Human sounded pissed at the obvious interest of her captive Vamp in her overly-curious beast.
"Err, right." In the sort of effortless leap only a very healthy specimen of a True Were lineage could make, Eric's movement tore him from her assessing gaze. The large thump signaled his successful landing in the Ford's bed. He mumbled some words to his companion.
Amelia's hearing was impeccable, but she'd somehow missed what Eric the Were had said.
"Find Dan's shorts I was wearing; I know I ripped yours in half." A few grunts preceded the unmistakable sounds of clothing being pulled over naked thighs and a zipper making its swift ascent.
Several terminally boring seconds later, the Supe Hero Were was once again standing before her, clad in a pair of denim shorts with a rather obvious zipper problem. She felt a twitter bubble up but didn't dare let it out. Just for something to do, she tried struggling in the not-Human's grip and met with no success.
"Sookie, heh, perhaps your arm is tiring of your grip on the Vamp's throat?" The Were was speaking again, now sounding put-out about his lesser role in the proceedings.
"She interrupted us. Can you restrain her if I let her go, and then we can continue?" The female's voice held a slightly darker tone than earlier, and Amelia couldn't help wondering if the Were had caught the tell-tale change as well.
"Vamp? What is your name?" The inflection was much harsher than when he had addressed his female companion; it was clear he would brook no evasiveness.
"Amelia." She was about to be decapitated; what difference to the night's so-called client if she agreed to answer a few basic questions?
"In less than thirty minutes, the sun will rise. You'll be toast, err, dust. Care to explain why you are here, and who hired you before that happens? We do have a blanket that might save you from the worst of the burns, if you cooperate." Eric's voice had assumed the timbre of command, but she suspected he was a very young Wolf, just recently matured. Hmmm, if he wanted something, perhaps she might bargain for something in return? And was the foolish Were intimating she might be given the opportunity to escape?
"I answered an anonymous web advertisement for a simple snatch-and-grab of this blonde…Human." She paused, watching for an opening if he moved closer, but he remained just out of her reach. It would have helped if her feet could have found purchase, but it would be her luck to stumble across a target in a jacked-up pick-up with oversized tires, leaving her well-shod feet many inches shy of the concrete.
"Continue." Looking solicitously at his female, he asked, "Are you tiring now, dearest?"
"Can you put a rocket it in, Eric? We're burning Wolf-free minutes when I could be sucking your heated skin between my teeth, or skimming my eager lips over your treasure trail, or even licking a long, wet…" Amelia could actually feel the ache beginning to emanate from the eager beast watching the woman she still had been unable to twist around to examine more closely.
Sigh. Lucky bitch! Normally she hated the animal kingdom, but for this lusty Wolf she might have made an exception. But it clearly was so not happening in this undead lifetime, considering her major screw-up that had led to her being captured.
Impatient now as she contemplated her failed mission, she spoke up. "Excuse me for breaking in, but just what are you two newlyweds planning to do with me, now that you have captured a rather hungry Vampire? If anyone's interested in slaking my thirst, that is?"
"Should we take her to your Sire's, Eric?" The questioning naiveté and the lush tones had returned in the target's voice. Did she have a split personality? Amelia wondered if there might be another explanation, but given the circumstances she was rather short on ideas.
"I'll restrain her, and cover her in the blankets. She can make the trip in the back of the truck; there are some tie-downs I can use. Let's go, Sookie."
The not-Human female grumbled, and cajoled, murmuring something about 'her turn,' but the Wolf was adamant; they just weren't safe out in the open. After a few minutes of heated whispering, the decision appeared to have been made: all three of them would be leaving immediately.
More efficiently and carefully than she would have anticipated, the Were soon had her extricated from his mate's painful grip and settled for the ride to see his Sire. He also had collected the stun gun, tsking at her for bringing such a weapon to take out a True Were (it should have worked!) and then climbed into the cab. She still hadn't been able to get a good look at the not-Human and wondered again how the client could have mistaken such a Supe power for a mere blood-bag. Perhaps she'd soon find out, but as the sun rose, her wrists and ankles secured with the twisted rope the Were had improvised from what appeared to be the remnants of some clothing items, Amelia promptly fell into the sleep of the Undead. And just when it was beginning to get interesting.
As Niall waited for the arrival of his son Eric, he'd begun to assemble the elements of his plan to distract the Vampire head of the Tribunal from raining shit down on Eric's head. But if Eric didn't choose to cooperate, there wasn't much Niall could do to save him.
Not that he was without resources.
Calling in a favor from some Vamps who owed him, he'd set in motion a sequence of events that would lead to an explosive National Enquirer tabloid cover revealing the 'evidence' he'd collected over the centuries. Said evidence, actually genuine in origin, was currently stashed in a vault at the IOR, the Instituto per le Opere di Religione in Rome, and would have to be retrieved and planted by Niall's most-trusted Were associates, two of whom were already on an Alitalia flight bound for the ancient city.
Meanwhile, he'd chosen the small town of Dragasani as the setting for the sensational 'revelation.' It was centrally located in Romania's wine-growing region and was both the recent site of a hugely successful eBay scam and home to hundreds of young, well-trained information-technology specialists, two not-unrelated facts.
He fully expected that within twenty-four hours after his 'real' Vampire mementos had been planted, the Internet would be flooded by the town's residents with articles on the discovery of amazingly realistic evidence proving the existence of Vampires among the Humans. His actions were in direct violation of the Prime Directive, but Eric's safety, if not life, was at stake; Niall had been around too long to not know what he valued most. The irony here was that one of the accusations against Eric concerned a violation of said Prime Directive.
No point in dwelling on the miscellany of life.
More importantly, the Rat Bastard Vamp Leostet would have no choice but to leave the country himself and wing it to Walachia to protect the identity of the Count and his minions from being made public. If not, Vlad Dracule would see to it that the IST's head was most severely punished, possibly over a period of several decades. Niall snickered, but quickly suppressed the sound. It was quite undignified for a Werewolf of his years to engage in such juvenile expressions of glee. Perhaps a chortle? Totally dignified. He let loose with several. Another snicker could soon be heard had anyone been within earshot.
Thirty minutes after sunrise, the shifter guard at Niall's front gate called in an alert that his son Eric had arrived with two individuals unknown to him, one of whom was a female trussed in the back of the pick-up. Niall allowed that all were expected, but wondered who the third individual was after signing off from the guard. He'd discover her identity shortly and therefore was content to wait. He trusted Eric to risk neither the safety of his Sire nor his own neck, so he wasn't worried. With his son by his side, he knew that two True Weres, regardless of age or seasoning, were nearly invincible. Only a God might be able to overwhelm them, and where would one find a God on a hot summer's day in suburban Atlanta? His own son would never turn against him, of that he was certain.
His blood quickened at the thought of seeing Eric; it always did, whether it had been a few days, a few years, or several decades. His son was a handsome Wolf, and bore a strong resemblance to his Were mother, Nemia, one of Niall's many favorite Supe spouses. He still missed that bitch when the moon was full and the winds blew down from the Appalachian hills in late fall.
The jangle of the front door opening signaled the arrival of his son, his son's companion, and the unknown prisoner. The elder Werewolf smelled the female Vampire immediately. He nearly blew his top at Eric's lack of judgment in bringing a Vamp into the Buckhead bunker. How in the name of the wolfslayer Vidar could anyone expect him to pull off an elaborate scheme against the head of the Vamps to save Eric's ass when the enemy was already inside the gates? Niall swallowed hard several times before he was able to calm himself.
When he was finally able to tear his gaze away from the unconscious Vamp, an assassin he recognized from his regular perusal of Were investigative reports and photographic evidence on the other Supes' activities, his eyes rose to look into the baby blues of the most enchanting young Human he had ever encountered. Was this his son's mate? She smelled strongly of him, was wearing a thin cotton man's t-shirt that barely covered her bits, and yet… Oh fuck. She was the True Human, but something was different about her.
"Eric, is this Sookie Stackhouse, the young woman whom you were charged with protecting from harm?" Niall asked calmly, or at least he thought so.
"Sire. Kind of you to offer us refuge. Yes, as you can tell…"
Niall cut him off; no, he sliced him off at the knees, not allowing him to breathe another word. "She has the stink of a Supe on her, and I'm not just referring to your mating scent. Didn't I tell you to keep your dick out of her? Yet, there's no reasonable explanation for the contamination; she can't be pregnant, can she? She doesn't smell fertile, but something is wrong." He paused, thinking he needed a few modifications to his plans to accommodate this unforeseen development.
"Eric, I'm going to retrieve a throwing blade from behind the curio chest, and once I have a sip, I'll know what has happened to her blood. We are in a fuckhole of major proportions if your cousin Vane's research results on synthetic antibodies cannot be documented before…"
Sookie Stackhouse had listened quietly for the first few minutes to his vitriol, but now she stopped Niall's outburst with a hand on his arm and a look of determination on her lovely face.
"Do not threaten Eric." At least even she had the grace to look surprised by the words issuing from her mouth.
"Are you challenging me?" A Human, contaminated or not, had never dared to speak to him thusly. They instinctively knew he wasn't an average man and usually gave him a wide berth if he appeared the least perturbed.
"Your son has saved me on several occasions. He deserves reward for his actions, not your condemnation."
Niall looked over at Eric in amusement. "Does your very adorable Human mate always use such a challenging tone when speaking to a Werewolf, son?" The amusement was to mask his genuine concern; something wasn't right since this little blondina wasn't cowering before him. He felt a growl deep in his chest, but suppressed it. He was too close to the shift to animal form that would happen later tonight; engaging in aggressive behaviors wouldn't be wise and could cause him to turn Wolf too early.
"Sire, I've chosen her…I didn't mean to do so…this is my choice…" Eric's words were registering with everyone in the room, including the blondina, who let out a small squeal of pleasure before speaking.
"Eric is my choice, too."
Niall, like most Supes, particularly the animal types, did not really believe in the concept of Love between a male and female. It was purely a Human construct. Experience had always proved the 'feelings' to be nothing more than Lust, masquerading as the supposedly deeper emotion. Humans especially seemed to lack the bullshit meter that allowed a sane, rational Supe to see past what felt like a clench in the heart, an ache beneath the breastbone, a stone caught in the throat-- all reactions commonly felt when one thought one's self to be in love.
However, staring at his son's face, he could tell he was in the clutches of some deep emotion; was the young Were's bullshit meter broken, or just temporarily damaged?
"Eric, not to put a damper on your desires, but you and this True Human have more than one order out for your pick-up. And, as I told you earlier, there is a contract out to capture you and bring you to trial for violating the Prime Directive to keep our existence hidden from the Humans. The contract has been issued by the International Supernatural Tribunal's head, the Vampire Leostet, my long-time adversary. I've initiated a plan to distract him, but you'll still be brought before the IST in his absence. I've no choice in this matter, and neither do you. Fail to appear, and you become the hunted, a Supe fugitive, and will attract the attention of every Supe bounty hunter in the country. A kill order could also possibly be issued if you defy the IST and do not appear before the Tribunal." Niall's voice had become darker, more serious. The little blondina was fixedly staring at him now.
"I know you." She paused. "And I don't like you."
Eric and Niall turned to her, mouths gaping. It had been a much deeper voice issuing what both Weres recognized as a challenge in the Supe lingo.
But how did Sookie know the old Supe code words? Eric wondered.
Sookie had been feeling odd since she and Eric had finally screwed. She should have felt elated by the sex they'd enjoyed together. It was the first she'd had since breaking-up with Sam Merlotte back in Shreveport, not counting the 'all-but screwing' she'd been talked into with Will-the-Vampire; she didn't count that misbegotten effort as screwing, thank God.
Did she really feel irritated at Niall, Eric's Sire? She couldn't recall why she should be feeling so out-of-sorts. She knew she was falling in love with Eric and was hoping he felt the same. At least she was clear on that one emotion.
However, his father was a scary beast, err, man, and she wondered if Eric would eventually develop more traits that mimicked his parent. There already was a definite family resemblance. But how did she account for the near immediate enmity she felt for Niall? It wasn't rational, but it was there, just skating the surface of her conscious mind.
Would she someday grow to dislike his son, Eric, just as much?
Could she marry a Werewolf with that fear hanging over her head? Not that Eric had asked her just yet, but all the talk of 'mates' had to mean something, didn't it?
Who was she fooling? She'd already decided on her answer whenever he got around to posing the question.
The scientist in the Vampire Empire's employ was a large, powerfully built man with a dark brush of coarse hair riding the top of his skull. In his Human existence, he had been an executioner. Anyone meeting him never doubted it: his expression was often surly; he was crude in his physical habits (dried blood under the fingernails being just the easiest example); and his meaty palms and strong fingers looked made to hold a long-handled curved blade.
After more than two hundred years honing his skills as a Vampire, he'd eventually turned to science and the study of blood, both his sustenance and his torment. After another fifty years spent indulging both his passion and his professional skills, he'd been able to lay claim to several important discoveries in his adopted field. It had been tricky to have the work accepted by and reviewed in the Human scientific journals, the only validation he craved, but so far he had been able to overcome all obstacles, even attending a few scientific conferences that held evening sessions and presenting the occasional professional paper.
The one area that continued to confound him was modern-day genetics. He'd been dreaming of experimenting on Humans since his early days as a newly turned Vamp; 'why not?', he reasoned, the blood-bags are in rich profusion and almost seem to cry out for some judicious thinning.
And now, he'd finally worked his way into the cadre of Vamp scientists with access to the files of True Human subjects, and so the culmination of his undead dream lay within his grasp. The one missing element had always been the perfect subject and laying hands on same. Finding such a Human had been an elusive goal and had tripped him up more times than he cared to count.
It was an unbelievable succession of events that had led him to the proverbial mother lode: a fertile young female who'd never been bred and was single-to-boot with a misplaced male relative.
He had only to ignore the IST's Prime Directive and simply take the True Human female, Ms. S. Stackhouse. He gulped at the temerity of such an act but continued in his cold-blooded analysis. With her as his source of superior breeding stock, he would be able to advance the field of genetic research by light years. He needed only to locate an additional source of True Human semen, and the medical profession, his newest calling, would be forever enriched. Mature Human females carried over 300,000 eggs, and yet they only used 300 to 400 during a lifetime. That reasonably left him approximately 299,500 options, or eggs, that would never be missed. He could harvest those unneeded eggs and have his pure pool of genetic material. He could so easily imagine this huge wealth of True Humans, all genetically pure, matured, and all capable of bearing children, eventually reclaiming the Human race from the contamination of the randy Supes.
He shivered in excitement and awe at the audacity of his vision.
Human scientists, victims of the Prime Directive, never realized that their experimental results were always being compromised by the mixed Supe-Human blood of the research participants. It explained why drugs worked on some Humans and not others, and why so many warnings were required for the introduction of any new therapy other than the 'take two aspirin and call me in the morning' variety. Supes simply reacted differently to various drugs designed to mimic cures found in the natural world and Eastern medicine, and the traits were passed along in their blood to Human/Supe offspring.
So, Alcide the frustrated Vamp had taken the leap and defied the IST and its head, one of the scariest Vamps his world had ever seen. He simply didn't care any longer. Regardless of the consequences should he be discovered, he decided to have the True Human captured and brought to him. It had been a rather brilliant plan, and involved the heist of a young Werewolf's t-shirt, a certain Witch, and a Vamp assassin, all three of whom were clueless about the roles they would play in his elaborate scheme.
He'd gone Rogue, and it felt so damn good.
A/N: I gratefully acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. If you find errors, I must claim them. Seriously, she is a dear, and a great writer. Check out her stories for a real treat.
While I have a serious addiction to many excellent SVM fan fiction, with some of my faves listed on my profile, I've also recently been converted to the dark side, Twi-FF. Here are some Twi fics I've been reading and totally adore:
www . fanfiction . net/s/5646916/1/ Three Graces & A Muse by FarDareisMai2
www . fanfiction . net/s/5475191/4/ Deep Dish by Starfish422
www . fanfiction . net/s/5390119/1/ The University of Edward Masen by SebastienRobichaud
www . fanfiction . net/s/4676940/1/ All I Ever Knew by Manyafandom
Finally, if you are interested in supporting the Haitian relief efforts by donating with other FF members, you will receive a FF-style thank-you, as organized by MsKathy. Here are the terms: Donate at least $5 to a charity of your choice by 11:59PM January 24, 2010, to help Haiti, and you will receive a compilation of varying length pieces (not necessarily lemony, not necessarily TwiFic) from 150 participating Twi authors. Forward MsKathy a copy of the receipt - be sure to delete your personal details - to be added to her list. She will email the story on 01/25. You have until 01/24 to make your donation and be added. Send that receipt for your donation to so she has both the donation amount and your email address.