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Brotherly Love

Chapter 7: The First Cut's the Deepest

The family silver didn't consist of much beyond a few knives, forks and spoons. But there was one thing I was looking for specifically. I was glad that Gran had used a small amount of her meagre savings on having the silver cleaned and perfected. It meant that they were all as perfect as they could be, and this meant that the carving knife, the biggest blade in the set, was a sharp as possible.

I thanked Gran and God. If this works, I swear I'm going to use some of my money from the Queen to send the silver to the tiny Antiques store in Shreveport which also handled silver and gold products. It was expensive, but I knew they wouldn't do a bad job. Besides, after this, it was probably going to need a cleaning greater than what I could give it.

I pulled open the cupboard with a bit too much force and it banged a bit too loudly. I started to panic a little. Eric had fantastic hearing, better than some vampires, and I assumed his brother would too. I didn't know for sure it was Eric's brother, of course, but it seemed the only logical assumption to me. Of course, Eric hadn't told me his brother was bloody (bad image) identical to him. I was going to make him pay too. Once I saved him, of course. He might have thought it would scare me, but he should have believed in me more. This was something I needed to know. I didn't blame Eric for what happened. It was this bastards fault, Jockstrap or whatever his name was. Jökull I think Eric said (he had pronounced it yok-ul). And it was he who would pay. Eric would probably be pissed at
me for doing this to his brother. Then again, he must have felt my emotional implosion through our blood link – surely he'll understand why I did this. I hope so anyway, because I do love Eric.
But every time I thought of my love, I couldn't help but think of that bastard sitting in MY bedroom who had raped me.

These thoughts fuelled my anger and I stopped caring about how loud I was being. Let him come investigate. The knife was hidden in the bottom of a beautiful oak box, but I didn't pay any attention to the container, other than to open the tiny latch.
It was lying there... as bright as moonlight, and deadly as sunlight.

I grabbed it and felt its odd weight in my hand. I'd never used it – never had reason to. The only family dinner I could hold would be a very small affair – 5 people, including myself. But I knew how to hold it for the best impact – it's not the first weapon I've wielded. It was heavy but I got a good strong grip on it. It was cold, ridiculously cold - like a death chill. Perhaps it knew my thoughts.

Silly thought really, but one I took a second to entertain. What would my kitchen say if they knew what was about to happen. Would they stop me? It was a brand-new kitchen so would it have new age attitudes, like Vampires deserving the same rights as humans? I certainly thought so – so they should be punished just as humans would be. I couldn't call the police, since Bon Temps was so tiny we didn't really qualify for a Vampire Police unit – despite the fact that vampire's seemed to love our little backwoods neighbourhood. Besides, Eric said he was the King of Sweden. My political knowledge isn't great, but I'm sure that 'non-American big-wigs', as Gran used to say, like that didn't get imprisoned. They were exempt from our laws, which I thought was silly. They could commit a crime and get away with it. Well I wouldn't let him rape me and not be punished. He would suffer and soon.

I took a deep, steadying breath before calling out in a scarily cheerful sounding voice, "Eric, I'm waiting. This table's very sturdy you know". I hid the heavy knife on the chair, underneath the table, where I knew I could reach it quickly. It was hidden from sight – even vampire sight. I turned my head slightly to watch for his arrival and my breath caught in my throat. He was there, mere inches from my face. His features so like Eric's it was painful. But there were faint differences, and, of course, the eye colour was a dead giveaway. No-one else would have noticed I don't think, but I'd spent hours just staring into those eyes when Eric has amnesia. I knew those eyes better than I knew the layout of my house. This wasn't Eric.
Therefore, he was in for a world of pain.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the table. He tried to get his fingers back into me, but I held his hand away.
"No, let me do something for you" I whispered in his ear.

He smiled at me and I was thrown off again. Maybe I was wrong, that was definitely Eric's brilliant smile. My knees were weak and I was sweating. Definitely Eric's smile. But not Eric.

"Close your eyes" I told him seductively, "and you'll enjoy this so much more". He did as I asked and though it made me gag slightly, I put my hand on his manhood and he sank back onto the table.

I timed it as perfectly as I could – the bang of his head coincided with me lifting the knife off of the chair. I hoped he wouldn't hear it and I don't think he did, lost as he was in his lust.

It's sounds clichéd, but time actually seemed to freeze once the knife was in my hand. Every move was magnified in my fear that he would open his eyes and spot the dangerous weapon, made of a material so anathema (words of the day come to mind in all situations) to him, that it's mere touch would burn him.

I kept pleasuring him for a few more seconds, my hand not skilled but acting with great fury which I'm sure he mistook for eagerness. In this way he was quickly erect again and started moaning very gently. I smiled viciously and raised the weapon.

"I'll need something to tell you and Eric apart" I said very loudly as I swung the blade.

Whether it was shock at the truth being revealed, the paralysis of lust or fear of the shining blade in my hand, Jökull made no move to stop me. Survival instinct didn't kick in because the knife wasn't aimed at his heart. No, he stole my womanhood. Now I'm stealing his manhood.