The chapter starts out in present day, which is Thanksgiving Day, and then flashs back to the days that lead up to Thanksgiving Day. The timeline flows in sequence, it doesn't jump around.
Thanks for reading and enjoy!
7-31-10: I want to thank bajan-martini, my new beta for reviewing this chapter and making a better reading experience for all. Thanks so much, b-m!
Chapter 15: Get A Clue
Present Day, November 26th, Thanksgiving Day
I think I need a vampire…
Flashback - 8 days ago, November 18th:
It was November 18th, the day after Eric's uninvited visit.
I made my anti-vampire shopping list before I left the house for work. At the top of the list was silver, from chains to mace for vampires, which is silver nitrate spray.
It was dark as I drove away from my house and as I passed Miss Violet's house, her porch light flicked on and off several times. That was our signal that she needed me to stop and come in.
Miss Violet had become one of my favorite people. She looked like the quintessential picture of the ideal grandma. She was a tiny woman, no bigger than five feet, probably in her eighties, she spoke with a very thick Louisiana accent, and she always wore a house dress and bib apron.
But her looks disguised the force and power of the real Miss Violet. She was sharp as a tack, spry as a teenage boy, kind, but nobody's fool, and she easily put the fear of God into the fittest of grown men. You wouldn't dare treat her with anything other than the utmost respect, because you knew that something - probably her frying pan - would avenge her.
She was the reason that I met Liam – it was her medicine that I picked up at his office.
I knocked on her front door and received a yelled instruction to 'come on in here.' The smell of good, southern home-cooking met me and lead me to her kitchen.
I greeted her with, "You're up early this morning, Miss Violet. You got a big day?"
She responded, "Darlin', I always got a big day. The rooster don't git me up, I git him up."
I looked at the bounty of food spread on her table – eggs, bacon, grits, biscuits, gravy, juice, and coffee, and drooled.
Miss Violet would have made a great drill sergeant, "Now sit down, git you some of everyting – and eat it now! You can't go out catchin' bad men on yogurt and twigs, or whatever that stuff is that you eat. Then, I want ya to make some bis'kit sammiches to take wid ya, too."
I dutifully did as I was ordered. Miss Violet made the BEST biscuits that I have ever tasted in my entire life – may my beloved grandma in Heaven forgive me for saying that. Did I mention that I adored this fine lady?
After a few minutes of eating and discussing our individual agendas for the day, I worked up the courage to ask her about my little issue. "Miss Violet, ah…I have a problem at my house." Miss Violet was a self-educated herb, root, and flower specialist and I was hoping that she could recommend something that could help me. At the very least it couldn't hurt and I was desperate.
She didn't let the food in her mouth stop her from responding – which was fine with me, I didn't hold differences in table manners against her. "Whatcha got - mice, squirrels?"
I took a good gulp of coffee for courage and responded. "Vampires. Well, um, actually, just one vampire. Do you have any kind of herb, or flower –"
Miss Violet stopped eating and slammed down her fork, "Vampers! Ya got vampers? Oh my Lord! A vamper infestation…I've never heard of that…Oh Lord above, honey, how did ya get ya'self messed up –"
I jumped in, trying to head off the accusation, "I think he came with the house." I purposely left out…well, the whole truth. But, privately associating with vampires was frowned upon, and as Sheriff, I needed to maintain a certain image. So, I'm chicken-shit, I embrace the fact, and I'm at peace with it.
Miss Violet looked baffled and somewhat in awe. She took her time mentally sorting through what I had just told her, while using a toothpick to whittle food out from between her teeth.
She finally came to some conclusion, and started to simultaneously eat and talk again, "Well, if dat don't beat all. I ain't never heard of dat. Kinda like a ghost hauntin'. Oh – hey, I know! Tell him to git the heck out. Tell him to git out and stay out! He's gotta go, 'cos dats the way it works!"
"Um, I didn't invite him in and I tried that, but he didn't leave."
"Oh my word – honey, ya got ya'self a true vamper infestation… Okay – ya need to git ya'self some silver, a lot of silver chains, silver plated is fine. Ya don't need no pure silver, but it's gots to have silver in it. Wrap it 'round the door handle on the outside and inside of the door, and then hang it in the windahs so dat he will be in fear of touchin' 'em."
"I thought I would also spray silver nitrate on all the screens - maybe that would keep them out, too?" A small part of me hoped that my brilliant idea would impress her.
"Silver nite – I don't know what that is, but if it's gots silver in it, then use it. Oh, Hawthorn!" She got up from the table and went over to a counter and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen.
"I need to make a list. I'll git you sum Hawthorn, and sum other tings dat may help. Y'all need to hang what I give ya 'round the open'ins' of the house." She started writing with a vengeance.
She stopped and then snapped her fingers, like a thought had just occurred to her. "That's why I wanted ya to stop in! I need some tings from the store, I hope ya don't mind. Some Crisco, some flour, white sugah, and a few other tings – oh, where's my shoppin' list?
I held out my hand, ready for her list. I never and would never refuse to do her errands, so I responded, "Yes Ma'am."
She rummaged around her kitchen until she found it, and then handed it to me, which I pocketed. "And – I wanted to mention to ya 'bout the Red Moon – in case ya didn't knowed about it."
I stopped eating, "Red Moon? Like the sailor poem, 'red moon at night, sailors delight, red moon in the morning, sailors take warning?'"
"Honey, we ain't on no boat – I'm talkin' 'bout dah weres."
"The weres? Like…werewolves?" I really was hoping that she would say 'no.' This was one sector of the supernatural world that I hadn't meet, and from what I had been told about werewolves, I really didn't want to meet them.
But she didn't say 'no'. She nodded 'yes.'
Miss Violet became very serious and got down to business, telling me all about the legendary Red Moon Weres. They were only males, always in human form, but they could turn into the beast at will.
The one exception to their self-control was the appearance of the rare and infrequent Red Moon cycle. A red moon occurred when there were two full moons in a month – which happens only ever ten years or so. The Red Moon human-looking males are forced to turn into werewolves during this time, but only at night.
She added, "We gonna git a red moon for our last Autumn moon. We normally don't, so that's telling me right der that we need to prepare."
Great – vampire infestations and werewolf warnings…great, great, great – it just keeps getting better and better.
Miss Violet was going to put wolfsbane around my house and she was creating something for me to wear around my neck. She had me smell the wolfsbane, she had handy. The stuff stunk.
I was running short on time and I needed to get on the road to work. So, I brought the conversation back to my 'vamper infestation' problem.
I asked her, "Do you remember who the last owner of my house was?"
"Oh, I git ya – you'll make that person git out the vamper. Okay, let me think…his name is… is…is Mr. Remy Thibodeaux from Shreveport. Oh, but he's dead now."
Not good news. But, I remember reading that only the lord of the house and all those that reside therein could invite in a vampire. So, if the owner was dead, then his authority would be gone. Which meant that someone else invited Eric into the house.
I don't know for sure if former renters would still have authority to invite in vampires. But, none of the vampire rules seem to follow our naïve beliefs. So, I asked, "Okay, who rented the house last? Maybe that renter invited the vampire in."
She politely considered my theory, "I don't think it works like that, but then again, nuthin' goes the way we think it shud, especially 'round here. Did you know that garlic, and holy water, and crosses are all useless?…Uh huh – oh, yes! It's true… As useless as teats on a male hog..."
Miss Violet delved into her memory and eventually responded, "Oh, yes, now I remembah. She was about your age, the woman who rented the place. No – she was a lot older than you and it was her daughter that was your age…Let me think…oh…for the life me…oh my…I can't remember their names…we didn't talk much."
Miss Violet then leaned over to me and whispered, as if sharing a secret, "She was white trash - and so was her daughter! I remember Mr. Thibodeaux had his hands full trying to git his rent money; he eventually had to put 'em out!"
I had to get going and said as much. I made my sandwiches, took the coffee travel mug Miss Violet had prepared for me, got my hug from her, and was warned to be safe and careful.
While on the drive to the station, I re-prioritized my to-do list.
Later that day, I talked to the rental company regarding the former landlord and the last renter of my house. Miss Violet was right, the former owner was Mr. Thibodeaux and he was dead. He had only one renter, a woman named Noelle Tweety.
I did a little research and discovered that Miss Tweety was currently residing as a guest in one of Louisiana's correctional facilities, for the conviction of forged checks. The rental office had no idea if Miss Tweety had a daughter, since the only name on the lease was Miss Noelle Tweety.
While I was on the internet searching for more information about the former owner and renter, on a whim, I googled the word 'krigaren.' It turned out to be Swedish, and it meant, 'warrior.' Another dead end.
Flashback - 6 days ago, November 20th:
Just when I thought my 'vampire infestation' was not such a pressing issue, because I hadn't seen or heard from Eric in several days, fate kicked up my reality a notch.
My cell phone first rung at 6:00 PM. Originally, the screen would flash "Eric' when that number called in, but I changed it to something more appropriate – it now said 'Asshole.'
I ignored the call, but after about the tenth ringing jag, I was pissed. So, I decided to irritate him as much as he was irritating me. I would answer and pretend that he was calling the wrong number, and I answered using an exaggerated Southern drawl.
"Hell – looow?"
"Jo?"
"Whoooo?"
"Jo?"
" Ain't no Jo here and don't call here again. We don't want nuthin' you got!" I hung up snickering.
Fucking with the vampire - good times!
My cell rang again; I think I'll try Latino this time…
"Ola?"
"Jo, I know your voice."
"No speakit dah Ing-lish." I had to quickly hang up on him, so that he wouldn't hear my uncontrollable laughter.
My phone beeped, a text message came through. It said, 'you R rude.'
I texted back, 'get a clue.'
The phone started ringing again, and this time I answered it with my own personal brand of charm. I barked out, "What?"
"'Hello' to you, too. I am fine, thank you for asking."
"What do you want, Eric?"
"I wanted to see how you are doing - "
"Eric, cut the crap, what do you REALLY want?"
No answer came from him, but I did hear something like clothing being ruffled.
"No answer? Fine. I have a very important meeting that I need to get to, so –"
"What a coincidence!" His voice was overly-enthusiastic and it had an edge to it that made me pause.
Then, I heard it - a young woman's giggle coming from his side of the phone. He chirped, "I'm meeting with someone too, but I forgot her name…she can't talk right now."
"What?" He asked the question, but it didn't sound like he was talking to me. When he spoke next, he had pulled away from the mouthpiece and was talking to someone in the background, "Oh – how lovely."
He now spoke to me directly, "Her name is 'Britney.'"
He chuckled – which sounded so sexy that it was almost evil - and he then spoke loud enough so both the woman and I could hear him clearly, "Britney is a very talented young lady."
The woman burst into theatrical giggles, and followed them with porno-movie sounding 'ohhh' and 'ahhh' moans. I started to feel sick.
He laughed slowly in response to her giggles. His laugh was full and rich, and it seemed to rumble out of his chest. My body betrayed me and tremors of pleasure and excitement rippled down my spine. What is wrong with me?
I couldn't believe myself; despite all pride and reason, I was transfixed and continued to listen to the sounds coming from his side of the phone.
This can't be happening…he's not doing what I think he's doing.
Then, I heard him seductively say to her, "Finish what you were working on, Britney."
I muffled a scream, slammed my cell phone shut, and threw it across the room. I started flinging my arms in a spastic manner, trying to get imaginary slime off of them. My whole body contorted into the spastic, 'ewww-gross' dance.
I turned and started to physically attack the constant reminder of Eric that was in my office – the chair. I started kicking, slapping, and cursing it. Though the chair held up well during the attack, I didn't. I had to stop because I was starting to hurt my hand.
A text message came through from Asshole, it said 'manicurist,' followed by three question marks.
Oh yeah right, she is giving you a manicure. I hate you.
Flashback - 5 days ago, November 21st:
My staff made a breakthrough on the "Barrel Full of Vampires" – that was the unofficial, joking of the case; the official name was "The Triple Homicides." My staff found the name of an employee from the burnt down laboratory.
We had been searching for the owner, a scientist by the name of Boris Scorpovinski, but to no avail. However, they did find the identity and name of the receptionist. It was better than nothing. Kenya and I went over to the Walmart in Monroe to talk with her.
Suzette Megginson was a slender, tall, bleach-bottle-blonde, with a normal level of intelligence befitting the region. During our interview, I did find her to be very helpful and forthcoming, though she didn't have a lot firm facts or details. Still, it was a starting point for the case.
"Like, it was a good job, like, good money. Better than Walmart. I was bored, though. Like, nothing to do. No one ever came to visit and there weren't a lot of deliveries when I was at the front counter. I think most deliveries, like came before or after my hours." Suzette, like, used the word 'like,' a lot.
I asked her what kind of visitors came to the lab.
"Not a whole lot of visitors. Like, it seemed like just nerdy people like the doctor. Oh – once, there was this military guy. He was real big, like muscles and all. Old, but not real old. He was kinda cute and like, kinda nice."
A red flag went up, and she had my complete attention. "Military? What branch?"
"Oh, I don't know. I think it was Army. But like, I don't know for sure. Like, I heard the guy say, the 'Army blah, blah, blah.' That's all I heard, the word 'Army.' He came about – like, two times. The second time…like, I remember that he seemed to not be really happy when he left. The doctor didn't seem happy, either. Like, he was mad at the Army guy."
I asked her if anything unusual or out of the ordinary had happened, especially before the fire. She replied, "Well yeah. Like, I thought it was weird that Dr. Scorpovinski paid me in advance, for like, the last week I was there. In advance, like that's weird, right…Like, it was as if he knew I wasn't coming back and it's like it…what do you call it…like, the servants pay?"
"Severance pay."
"Yeah, like that. He even gave me extra. He was a nice man. I never saw or heard from him again. Like, it really was the best job I've ever had."
Suzette went on to tell us of her aspirations and Walmart employee gossip. Kenya and I listened until we realized that Suzette's train of thought wasn't going to reveal anything more.
I was glad we left when we did, because - like, I couldn't stand to hear her, like, use the word 'like' one more time.
I gave Suzette my card and asked her to call me if she remembered anything more.
Jo, put a star by that note - Dr. Scorpovinski paid Suzette her wages in advance before the lab burned down.
That evening, Liam and I had plans to meet at Merlotte's for dinner. I had invited him because I had a favor to ask.
The Chief of Police of Renard Parish, Mr. Anthony Jeffrey Marquette, known as AJ, was holding his annual BBQ the weekend after Thanksgiving. AJ was Roman's boss and first cousin. This was AJ's holiday season party, and anyone that was someone in the Cajun community had to attend. In addition, AJ always invited all his sheriffs, immediate staff, friends, and family. I had to go; it would be a big mistake, career-wise, if I did not go.
Roman told me in a passive, off-the-cuff manner that he was bringing someone, but assured me that I could join him and his date - bite me Roman. I sure as Hell was not going to be Roman's pathetic third-wheel, so I planned on inviting Liam as my guest.
I was sitting at the bar in Merlotte's, waiting for the habitually late doctor, engaging in a discussion with Lafayette, Arlene, and Tara, the nighttime bartender. We were arguing the Brad Pitt's fidelity to Angelina Jolie. Lafayette was positive that Brad had already cheated on Angelina, probably within the first year of their relationship, because it was his nature. Sookie joined our discussion off and on, while waiting on a large party at one of her tables.
During our good-natured debate, a stranger entered the bar. The person's entrance sent a cold breeze blowing through our cluster. I and the others immediately knew he was a vampire. The paleness of his skin confirmed the fact.
He wasn't particularly tall; I guessed that he was maybe 5'5" or 5'6". He wore his long straight, black hair in a ponytail and it had been slicked down with hair product. He had a widow's peak hairline and olive skin. Something about him said that he was a foreigner, perhaps it was the cut of his clothes and style of shoes. My first guess was that he was from the Mediterranean area, Spain, Italy, or Portugal.
Sookie walked him to a table. A tangible band of alertness could be felt from the human crowd in the room, but it wasn't the near-hysteria that had formerly greeted vampire customers.
Vampires were becoming more and more frequent visitors to the bar. Sam said he was getting at least one or two new vampires stopping in every week. He wasn't getting a lot of repeat business from them, but it seemed to him that they were stopping by as if they were tourists stopping in to rub elbows with the locales.
The cold rush that came the vampire stranger must have had an effect on my sinuses, because I started getting one of my 'Bon Temps' headaches, as I call them. I had come to the conclusion that it had to be the barometric pressure compressing and thus inflaming my sinus cavities. Actually, Liam made the diagnosis, and it seemed to be accurate, because after I started to treat the headaches as inflamed sinuses, the pain would quickly subside.
As Sookie was waiting for Tara to warm up the True Blood, she said quietly to no one in particular, "There's something different about that vampire, but I can't put my finger on it."
Sookie took the vampire his drink and then re-joined us at the bar. The vampire called to her and she went to his table. Their body language told me that he was not satisfied with his drink, so she brought it back to the bar.
She was fuming as she waited for a new True Blood to be heated. "He was so rude! I'm not going to take that from him, he better watch out!"
Her words put me in defense mode and I hoped that she wasn't going to enrage him because I really didn't want an altercation with a vampire.
I watched them closely. Sookie took the new drink to the vampire and he didn't seem to be a happy with it. She became irate and I could clearly hear her say, "This is how we fix it and nobody ever complains. We don't have a thermometer to test the temperature. I'm sorry, but that's the best we can do."
The vampire's clearly rude response to her made Sookie turn around and stomp back to the bar. "He wants to see the manager."
Sam wasn't in the bar, and I guess Lafayette was the next in line of command. I saw fear in his eyes, but he overrode it, straightened his turban and sashayed over to the vampire. I could see him talking to the vampire in a friendly, sultry manner. The vampire did not respond as Lafayette would have hoped, instead, he started yelling obscenities at Lafayette.
I didn't want to interfere unless it was necessary, and it seemed to be reaching that level. I slowly got up and walked over to the two males, I was followed by Sookie. I gave her a look that told her to stay away, but I know she ignored it and continued to follow me. I spoke directly to the vampire, "Sir, is there a problem here?"
The vampire looked at me and started to laugh, "Are you the sorry excuse they have here for protection?"
All the tension made my headache grow stronger. The vampire's sneer turned into a mocking leer.
Before I could say anything, Sookie spoke up, "Eric Northman is the vampire sheriff in the area. I could call him and he would be here in no time!"
Go Sookie. I didn't think of that, but even if I did, I couldn't say it. I would have sounded like a wimp.
At the mention of Eric's name, the vampire's expression changed to alarm. He slowly stood up, the three of us quickly backed up away from him in unison. I placed my hand on my revolver and started to push Lafayette and Sookie behind me.
The vampire slowly reached into his pocket, took out money and threw it on the table and glared at me. Then, he slowly walked past us and left the bar.
As the whole bar collectively exhaled and before the subsequent, excited chatter became ear piercing, Sookie grabbed my arm and pulled me off to the side.
On tiptoes, she whispered in my ear, "He was reading your mind. He's a mind reader! I could feel him scan us all and I saw him in your head! There aren't supposed to be any vampire mind readers." She quickly walked away while muttering that she had to make a phone call.
My headache was now raging.
Flashback - 4 days ago, November 22nd:
I called up my rental office and talked with the female agent who had helped me before. I asked her if she could remember anything about the former owner or renter that was out of the ordinary. I finally asked her point-blank if she knew of any association that either party might have had with a vampire. As expected, she couldn't remember or think of anything.
I asked her about the new owners, what kind of people were they, and she said that a family-owned company owned my house. She believed that they bought it about the time I was moving in and she said that I had been sent a letter notifying me of the change of ownership. I vaguely remembered the letter.
I asked her for the name of the family or the company and she told me – it was Krigaren Incorporated.
So, Eric knows someone in the Krigaren family – the same word, or should I say name, that Eric used as an explanation on how he could enter my house without my permission.
Eric knew someone in the Krigaren family – without a doubt, a woman – and she allowed him into my rented home. Dammit!
The agent gave me a phone number to the corporation's headquarters, but I decided to hold off calling them until I surfed the net. Corporations tend to have websites, so I decided to find out what I could about the family on the net, before I called the headquarters office.
The family had a website! I found a page describing the mission statement of the corporation and a page describing the owners.
After reading the webpage, I got up, opened a bottle of merlot and started to drink directly from the bottle.
There was only one owner of Krigaren Incorporated…a Mr. Eric Northman…Eric was my landlord…Eric owned my house…
Flashback - 3 days ago, November 23rd:
It was right after lunch, when one of my new deputies, George Pelton, came into my office, "Sheriff, there's a woman here and she's filling out a missing persons report."
"Okay, George, thanks for telling me. Are you helping her with that?"
"Ma'am, she's missing…a vampire boyfriend." Though George's statement and demeanor were understated, his eyes were wide with excitement and his nose was flaring.
He now had my full attention.
The young woman's name was Crystal. Crystal Ball - I kid you not.
Though Crystal was in her earlier twenties, she had that 'ridden hard and put away wet' look. She looked weary and worn down. She had what we called where I came from, the Goth look, I don't know what the kids are calling it now. She was the epitome of the genre - chipped black nails, purple and red hair, leather and fishnet clothing, and combat boots. She was the poster child of rebellion and pain.
After getting her a drink and tissues, she told me her story – a very interesting story. Nathan Jacobs was her missing boyfriend. He was turned into a vampire in the 70's, while living on the street, making a living as a male prostitute. Somehow, he ended up working for the King vampire of Mississippi - as a prostitute, as punishment. His debt was paid and he was released. He and Crystal met in New Orleans, feel in love and decided to go live in the promised land of Wyoming, where there were fewer humans to bother vampires. They got as far as Bon Temps. They ran out of money and then Nathan went missing.
"Crystal, when was the last time you saw him?"
"Three days ago."
"Three days ago…why did you wait all this time to report it?"
"I was…afraid. I didn't know if you would help me."
"Okay, so where was he going when you saw him last?"
She didn't respond, she was chewing so hard on her bottom lip, that I thought it would start bleeding.
"Crystal, I can't help you if you don't help me."
"I don't know where he was going."
"Crystal – "
"He was going to see somebody…who…buys…V…Nathan was going to …you know…"
"So, he was going to sell his blood?"
"Yeah."
I wondered why he didn't glamor a human and steal from them. Maybe the reason he had to work for the King of Mississippi had something to do with it.
"Who to? Who was the buyer?"
"I don't know."
"Crystal –"
"I don't! I don't know his name, but I know it was a guy. I think Nathan said the guy was a doctor or something. I think the guy wasn't from around here. All I know is that Nathan left…and… hasn't come back." Singular tears started to drip down her face; I could see her struggling to keep it together.
"Are you sure he didn't just…leave you?"
"NO! He wouldn't leave me. He loved me. He said it, all the time. We're going to go to Wyoming and live away from everyone."
Her protective wall started to crumble, and more information came tumbling out of her.
"He's nice to me. Nobody…has ever been nice to me. He's kind and gentle-" Her reserve completely broke and she burst into sobs.
My heart went out to her. She looked like a lost little girl. I could tell she hadn't had a lot of luck in her life – and she just got unlucky again.
She wasn't able to offer me more. We wrote it up and sent out a bulletin. I left a courtesy message – albeit rather formal and cryptic – on Eric's personal phone, letting him know about the missing vampire. I offered to fax him a copy of our report.
I expected a call back from Eric, but didn't receive one.
Perhaps his manicurist was too busy giving him a blow job in one of his rental properties…
Present Day, November 26th, Thanksgiving Day
I've always been a good eater and I love to eat, ergo – I love Thanksgiving Day. But, it's not the turkey and trimmings that get my juices flowing – it's the pies. Oh yes – pie!
I can do some major damage to pumpkin, sweet potato, mincemeat, chocolate – or hell, any pie. BUT, the piece d'resistance for me is…pecan pie. I love me some pecan pie, and I will hide, lie, and steal for pecan pie.
I had a full team on Turkey Day; everyone was working for the overtime since Christmas was coming. As a surprise, I had ordered several turkey feast packages from the Piggly Wiggly for all shifts. I didn't want anyone going without on that special day. But, I was surprised too, everyone and their family and friends brought in food. All together, we could have fed the entire parish. It was a lot of food.
I had mentioned to Kenya about my pecan pie fetish and she must have spread the word – and I hit the motherload – there were about a dozen or more pecan pies! I just wanted to lay them all on the ground and roll on them. Or better yet, have a hot stud roll on them and then I would lick the pie off of him…a certain Viking vampire with pecan pie smeared…
I am so pathetic…Okay, so…
The whole day at the police station was filled with merriment, feasting, and socializing. The good people of Bon Temps were behaving themselves, and our calls were few and far between. I felt sorry for the fire department, though. They were very busy due to all the fires started from people trying to deep-fry their turkeys.
I was pulling a double-shift to cover for some of my people that had asked for the day or evening off. It was a good day. Liam came by around dinner time and we really had a great time, eating, joking and flirting. I hadn't heard from Eric in several days.
At 5:30 PM, a call came into the station. Kyle came and found me, I was in my office having coffee and getting ready to enjoy my first slice of pecan pie. Liam was accompanying me to AJ's BBQ and we were discussing transportation details.
"Sheriff – a Mr. Edgar Moufette just called in." He looked nervous and was signaling me with head nods that the matter was sensitive and that he needed to talk to me in private. Liam picked up on his movements and politely excused himself.
"Ah ma'am, he's saying…he's saying…they caught a vampire, who was trying to bite his wife while she was out watching the turkey frying in the kettle."
He had my full attention. I got up and walked over and closed my office door. "Kyle, what…say that again."
"Some vampire came to their place, attacked Miss Sadie, she's Mr. Edgar's wife - she's fine, by the way, and they caught it and are holding it. But they say that it's trying to get away, and we better get there quick…or they is going to kill it."
I grabbed my hat, yelled out orders to have the closest patrol units to report to the Moufette's place and secure the premises. I told Kyle and Simon Baugh, another deputy, to follow me in their patrol cars.
When I arrived at the Moufette's, it was now dark and it was hard to see the farm. However, I saw a huge crowd of people in front of the farm house. Apparently, the huge crowd where all Moufettes – not curious neighbors, which was in our favor. It made the crowd easier to control.
Interesting note, the entire Moufette clan were short people, no one seemed to be taller than 5'7". I felt like Gulliver in Lilliput land.
The first deputy on the scene, Ted Millet, came up to me and started filling me in. As he spoke, he pointed to various people standing around, who were pertinent to his report.
"Sheriff, Edgar Moufette – over there in the brown pants and white undershirt, approximately sixty-four years old, heard his wife, Miss Sadie, screaming and saw her run in the feed shed. He saw a man flying towards his wife, so – that was the vampire, so – he grabbed his shot gun and went running towards the vampire."
I nodded and urged him to continue.
"Then, Big Daddy, that's Mr. Edgar's daddy, the real short man over there in the black pants and undershirt, approximately eighty-four years old – he's got on the thick glasses, where is he?" Ted looked around until he spotted the older man in the crowd, and then pointed to him. Ted then whispered to me, "He's got no teeth and it's hard to understand him when he talks."
Ted then went back to full voice, "Well, Big Daddy yells for all the men to grab their guns and go help Edgar. Well…" Ted then did a circle movement with his arm, "all the men you see here, pretty much all of them, grabbed them guns and went running and started shooting at the vampire. Edgar got his Sadie out of the shed, the vampire was now in the shed…and…they all started shooting down the shed."
Ted stopped for a breath, I looked around the crowd and all the men were in various phases of posturing, from puffing out their chests and spitting tobacco, to drinking and boasting loudly their part in capturing the vampire.
"So, they trapped him in the shed and start shooting the shit…I mean, shooting the shed…until the shed actually collapses and traps the vamp. They wounded him real good, so he wasn't moving."
Ted looked at his notes, and continued. "Okay, they got him down and wounded, and so they go to the basement in the main house, where they keep their…ah…it's like their armory, and they get silver chain mesh nets, and silver plated stakes, and then they go back the shed, dig out around the vamp, and manage to throw one of the nets over the vamp and then stake it down."
Ted had talked himself into a tizzy and he was sweating quite profusely. I interrupted for my own questions.
"Ted, is anyone harmed?" Ted's response is a perplexed look, so I shout out to the crowd. "Did anyone get hurt, anyone, any type of injury? What about Miss Sadie?"
Ted and I look over to Mr. Edgar, who walked over and joined us in our little huddle. "Oh, Ma'am Sheriff, she's good. Scrapped her knees, and a few cuts, but we cleaned them and she's lying down upstairs. That sonya-bitch didn't get her or I would have cut the mother-lovin-" Ted reached out to silence Mr. Edgar.
Mr. Edgar turned in the direction of his father, Big Daddy, and yelled, "DADDY? WE shot him good, huh?"
As the older gentlemen struggled to respond, his son, Mr. Edgar moved on in his conversation, now addressing the crowd of men.
"Hey boys, you done did good!" Mr. Edgar yelled out an ear-piercing yell, and all the other men joined in. This particular yell is known as the 'rebel yell.' An insane, nerve-racking yell used during the Civil War to unnerve the Northern soldiers. It still worked well today, my hearing was now half gone and my nerves were on edge.
I gave orders to Simon to call the EMTs, have them look at Miss Sadie and be on stand-by. I told Kyle to follow me and Ted back to the shed.
The Moufette's backyard looked like an organized junk yard. There were mounds of rusted farm equipment, remnants of cars, and miscellaneous junk dotting the area. Around or near the mounds were mini-sheds or haphazard flower beds with little lawn ornaments, like ceramic gnomes, and ceramic dancing frogs. Obviously, Miss Sadie did her best to beautify the mess as best as she could.
As we approached the shattered shed, I saw a portion of the wreckage move. Looking closer, I saw that the large silver mesh net had been thrown over a small heap of rubble, and part of the rubble was a card table, standing in its upright position, on all four legs. It was odd that in this wreckage, the table was unharmed and was standing properly.
Underneath the card table was a crouched vampire, emitting a horrible hissing sound.
The vampire's face was the stuff of nightmares - red, glaring eyes, a hideous, crazed expression, and long, sharp fangs protruding from its mouth. This was the real face of a vampire in all of its hideous glory…the true face of Eric.
The creature rushed at us, scaring the shit out of all of us – we all jumped back and tried not to scream like little girls. The rubble was slipping and falling, and would eventually cause gaps to appear in the bottom of the net. The creature could get out. I realized that we were all in great danger of this creature.
The Moufettes captured the vampire by way of dumb luck. But we were going to need more that luck to get the creature out from under the net, placed into a cruiser, truck, or van, and safely transported to the station. We were going to need help – a lot of help. We were going to need brute strength and quick reflexes beyond our human capabilities.
I pulled out my cell phone.
I think I need a vampire…