Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 5 Professional Services
SPOV
Washed and dressed in a dark grey skirt and dove grey silk wrap around blouse I remove the chair from the door and let myself out into the suite. Unsurprisingly since its 9am there is no sign of Eric.
Despite being away from home and immersed in something new and probably dangerous I'm actually quite excited about using my disability for the first time in a professional capacity. It's been the bane of my existence for my entire life, what if I can find a way to make it pay for me and help people? That's how I'm looking at this, as an opportunity for me, and if I can help find this Godric safe and sound then so much the better.
After some embarrassment on both sides over the question of how to pay for my breakfast, turns out the room key's the key so to speak, the waiter led me over to a table by the huge windows and crossed my table with a mouth-watering assortment of food.
I'm not exactly a super model size woman, not that it bothers me, at least I am woman shaped, and I have a healthy appetite. Even so I left quite a bit of the banquet for one laid before me. Nervous I suppose, I don't want to let anybody down, least of all me.
Finished I wander out to wait in the lobby, recognising Hugo when he enters from Isabel's exacting description. He seems to know me too because he hurries straight over.
"Sookie?" He asks in pleasant voice.
"Hugo?"
I get to my feet and after a couple of false starts we manage to shake hands, clearly we've both been hanging out with vampires too long.
He's a talker. By the time we turn into the driveway of Stan's mansion I feel like I know everything about him. His ex-wife, his job as a lawyer, his kids, his relationship with Isabel.
As per Eric's instructions the night before, the conference room has been allocated for my use, with a brief synopsis of every human printed out for me to read before I meet them. Hugo and I quickly settle into a workman like pattern. I read the synopsis, he brought the subject into the room, and then I read them. No one seemed to object, they all sat happily in the chair next to mine while I held their hand and asked them questions.
It was an interesting experience and I took the opportunity to experiment as much as I could. Some of them were the type of loud broadcasters I'd encountered before, ask a question and they were off. Others were more nervous in their thoughts and I found that with those, looking for something they felt comfortable with and helping them imagine it until they relaxed was more productive when I got to the questioning part. I also discovered that some people were just more observant than others and no matter how hard I probed they simply just didn't have the answers I was looking for. To my surprise I found one who felt like she had shields in her head, a sort of natural defence to my disability, but though it took a while I was able to get round them.
Throughout Hugo tapped away on his laptop, fetched and removed the humans and solicitously plied me with refreshments.
But it did no good, though I made copious notes there was nothing to be found in any of them to throw light on Godric's disappearance, and I wasn't sure how the vampires were going to take that.
In the end the only human I hadn't read was Hugo.
Perhaps the Texas vampires consider him above reproach but it presents me with a problem. If I don't read him I won't have done my job properly, it's not that I suspect him of anything, it's just being thorough.
I don't normally like to poke around in someone's head without explanation or permission, it's rude, but on this occasion I feel like I should. I can hardly ask him to sit down and relax while I hold his hand but maybe with all the practise I've had with my disability today I won't need to . . . .
Pretending to focus on my notes I sink into his mind. His surface thoughts are straightforward enough. Today has bored him rigid, playing nursemaid to a blonde bimbo barmaid from Louisiana. I'm not offended, I'm used to it, but I make a mental note to brush up my professional persona. Like many people he's highly sceptical that I can actually read his mind but wary enough to be careful about what he's thinking. Trouble is, as I've learnt over the years, the more people try not to think about something the more it features prominently in their minds.
"Did you think the waitress, Bethany, from The Bat's Wing was hiding anything?" I ask him suddenly.
"Couldn't you tell?" He counters, his own mind immediately going on the alert.
"Hmm." I ponder, not looking up. "I suppose it isn't unusual for someone who works for vampires to have been glamoured. But it's suspicious that most of Godric's last night at the bar is missing from her memories, don't you think?"
"Is it, missing I mean?" He asks, thoughts whirling.
"What does Godric look like?" I already know, I've seen him in enough minds today.
Hugo almost sighs in relief.
"He's quite young looking, maybe fifteen, sixteen. He has tattoos, ancient blue runes on the skin around his neck, down his arms, other places too I would imagine. He's slim build, athletic and muscular, short dark hair, brown eyes."
And then he remembers the last time he saw him. Gottcha.
I nod thoughtfully. Better not overplay my hand.
"Would you mind getting me a drink Hugo, I know they don't feel things like we do but I can't believe vampires living in Dallas don't have air conditioning. I'm fairly roasting." And I bat my eyes at him for good measure.
Feeling very superior he leaves the room in search of more iced tea for the bimbo and I slip gratefully out of his mind.
While he's gone I call up the internet on the laptop he's left behind and look up The Fellowship of the Sun, Dallas chapter. Hugo last saw Godric from the aisle of a church, talking to a tall dark haired man I immediately recognised from TV as the Reverend Steve Newlin, leader of said fellowship.
Now I like to think of myself as a church going woman, well, I go, sometimes. But the reverend and his followers turn my stomach with their unholy lack of tolerance for anyone different, or in this case legally dead, and their apparent desire to inflict pain and suffering on anyone they feel qualifies. Hugo might think I'm a bimbo but at least I have more sense than to hate for the sake of hating or because some great orator says I should.
I hear Hugo returning and close the browser, quickly sinking back into my seat and bending over my notes again.
"Thank you." I murmur as he places the glass down beside me.
I need to think. This isn't really something I can tell Eric when there are others around, he should probably broach the subject with Stan in private. I'm not sure Hugo's got anything to do with Godric's disappearance but he definitely knows where he is and isn't saying. I can guess what Stan's reaction will be and if Hugo's done nothing wrong except withhold information it seems a little harsh to me. I need to persuade Hugo to take me back to the hotel somehow so I can tell Eric when he rises and let him work out what to do with the information. He and I have an agreement that no human will be harmed as a result of what I uncover for him.
Time to act.
Despite not being thirsty I quaff the iced tea as if I've never needed a drink more.
"Hugo, I sure am hot, would you mind taking me back to the hotel so I can get a shower?"
"I'm not supposed to. Orders were to wait here for your vampire and Stan so we can report on what we've found."
"I know. But I need a shower and a change of clothes, I'm not used to this kind of heat. Besides I'll be there when Eric rises so I don't see it causing a problem." And, flutter the eyelashes.
"I suppose it's alright." He decides finally.
Phew. Unfortunately the tea has gone straight through me.
"Thank you Hugo. Just one moment while I pop to the restroom and we're good to go."
He actually rolled his eyes. Rude.
When I'm done I find him waiting by the front door, looking impatient.
Forcing a smile onto my face I follow him out to the car.
The blast of the air conditioning is bliss, it really is hot here, and I close my eyes in relief.
Eventually they open slowly, closing again several times before I manage to impose my will on them. I am staring up at a strip light on a concrete ceiling, it hurts my eyes. I let my head roll sideways. I'm lying on a concrete floor in what appears to be a basement, crammed with cleaning supplies. My eyes aren't the only things that hurt. My arms are underneath me and when I try to move them to a more comfortable position I realise my wrists are tied tightly together with scratchy rope. My legs won't move either, same problem.
Well shit.
I turn my head the other way.
Hugo is sitting in a chair by the door, watching me with a frown on his face.
"What the fuck?" I gasp. Very eloquent.
"I checked my laptop while you were in the toilet." He says by way of explanation. "I couldn't let you warn the vamps and ruin everything."
"Ruin what?" Might as well see if he'll fess up like a Bond villain.
"Godric will meet the sun in the morning. He wants to atone for his evil existence, it will be broadcast live bringing more followers for Steve and his mission."
"He wants to die?"
Hugo nods.
Well that explains his unexplained disappearance I guess. I've never met him and as a vampire I don't suppose he cares, but surely there are better ways to apologise for your sins than giving more publicity to Newlin and his?
"You were part of all this?"
"No. I spy on the Dallas vampires for Steve. I had no idea about Godric until I saw him here in the church."
"What are you going to do with me?"
"You will meet the sun with Godric."
"I'm not a vampire, how is that supposed to work?"
"You will be chained to him."
Oh. Yes, I can see how that might work.
"I'm no expert in all this but I can't see how the sight of a burning, innocent woman, who will be screaming in terror, is going to woo the American public to your cause."
"You are not innocent. You are a whore for vampires."
"I'm a virgin buddy." I mutter, turning my head away.
Jesus. And this man, this lawyer, thinks I'm stupid?
There are about twenty minds I can sense around me and one void. The wretched Godric I assume. Manners be damned, I peek into every one of them. Most are filled with happy anticipation for the morning although few seem aware of exactly what's going to happen. Besides Hugo there are only three who actually know what's planned, a woman and two men. One of whom I assume is Steve Newlin and the other I have a strong desire not to meet, which is unfortunate, because he is heading toward us right now.
The door opens and a handsome man with a black crew cut sweeps in, surveying me happily.
"Steve wants ya." He growls at Hugo without taking his eyes off me.
The thoughts in the new man's head and the fears in Hugo's do nothing to comfort me whatsoever.
"I'm supposed to be guarding Sookie, Gabe." Hugo objects.
"Nah. I got her, you go see the boss."
Reluctantly Hugo rises from the chair and casts a last look at me before exiting stage right.
Oh shit. And Eric said vampires could be dangerous to me, Gabe's gleeful intentions are far more frightening than the idea of being tied to the mysterious Godric for his dawn pyrotechnic display.
I fight to remain calm. He's going to have to untie my legs and then, maybe, somehow . . . . I have one advantage after all . . . .
Gabe closes the door with an emphatic click and stalks toward me, pulling a knife out his pocket and flicking it open.
I scream and writhe, the ropes keeping him from his goal aren't the only thing he's planning to slice through, but he throws himself on top of me in a heartbeat. Laughing, immensely pleased with my terror. The knife cuts through the flesh of my upper arm and I scream again which allows him to plunge his disgusting tongue down my throat, without considering the consequences I bite down on it like a woman possessed.
He howls and drags his face away from mine, my sharp little teeth doing even more damage. My flare of triumph is short lived as the fist not holding the knife smashes into my cheek and as my muscles go slack and stars bloom behind my eyes he reaches back to cut the rope binding my legs. As much as I'd like to keep them firmly together instinct takes over and I start thrashing and rolling, screaming again, praying there's at least one decent human in this place who will look for the source of the noise.
As he struggles to hold me still the knife slices me again, searing through my side and bringing a burning pain that redoubles my screams.
I manage to get my knee up, seeking out a sensitive part and to my astonishment he flies into the air like I've fired him from a canon, stopping magically a foot or so from the ceiling.
A vampire, Godric I assume, has him by the throat, suspended easily at the end of his heavily tattooed arm.
"Are you alright?" He asks in a heavily accented but unexpectedly soft voice.
"No thanks to you!" Oops, brain to mouth filter is out of action.
Godric raises his eyebrow at me in a curiously familiar fashion.
"Um. Sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Thank you. I'm here to look for you, Stan hired me."
The eyebrow stays up, waiting for more information.
"I'm a telepath, I can read human minds, I saw you in Hugo's mind, with Newlin."
"You know my child." He breathes, ignoring the fact that Gabe has stopped struggling and started to turn blue.
It's a statement, not a question and so I keep my ignorance quiet.
"You are not safe here." He continues after a moment, master of the understatement.
"Neither are you." I mutter and to my surprise he chuckles.
Then he lowers Gabe abruptly and literally snaps him in half over his knee.
Blood flies in all directions.
Faint, a little voice inside me suggests. Don't you dare, another demands.
Anyway the choice is taken out of my hands as Godric steps over the Gabe parts and leans down, jerking me to my feet by my lovely new blouse.
"We are leaving." He states.
"Is that a good thing?" I ask, realising that my poor abused face is swelling and it's getting difficult to speak.
"It is for you." He chuckles again, throwing me unceremoniously over his shoulder and darting out the door.
I can't seem to lift my head so instead I watch the floor. Concrete. Concrete steps. Linoleum. Polished wooden blocks. Stone flags. Asphalt. Its blurring by so fast I can barely register the changes. And I'm so tired and weak all of a sudden, it's all I can do to keep my eyes open, maybe just a little sleep, not much I can do about my situation right now anyway . . . .