Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 12 Revelation
SPOV
I opened my eyes stretched out on the rug in Sam's office with the pair of them frowning down at me. I felt reasonably okay considering just a few seconds before I'd thought I was going to be blown apart into a million tiny untraceable pieces, but I could still feel the residue of it on me, like the after effects of a static shock. Shivery and weak I let Sam help me into a chair and I put my head between my knees to see if I could make the room stop spinning. It sort of worked, after a minute or two.
I think I managed to convince Sam I fainted, there's been so much going on it would hardly have been surprising. He was immediately contrite. I know he's as worried about me as I am but it stung a bit that he'd think I'd let me get into this mess if there'd been a better choice. I don't want to run away to faery forever, no matter how nice it sounds, and I don't want to wake up one morning to find myself the helpless prisoner of some vampire. I also can't help feeling a bit disappointed in him. Like Bill he obviously knew more about what I was potentially walking into than I did, yet like Bill the best he could do to stop me was spout vague warnings. I can't blame either of them entirely I guess, I should have paid more attention. Use my brain Niall said. I can't help what's already happened but I need to get smarter if I don't want it to get worse.
Anyway. Sam sent me home with another week off and a promise to drop by for lunch and a proper talk. Alcide ushered me out the back door and followed me home, all the way up the back steps and into the kitchen, where he took up residence on a chair with his arms folded across his chest. He isn't buying the fainting excuse, nor apparently, is he leaving.
Fine. I make us both an iced tea and then sit down opposite him.
I think it was Eric waking up. And that bothers me. I now know why I couldn't find the Eric light when I got up earlier. It isn't confined or concentrated in a single space anymore. It's everywhere, diffused through me, like his blood I presume. My pre-nightmare smugness has been obliterated. Last night I was in control, tonight I have no idea which one of us is. He couldn't feel me at all unless I let him, so how was it he was able to blast into me earlier without any warning or resistance on my part? And how did it stop? Did I push him out or did he pull back when he realised? Was it deliberate?
Maybe the bond wasn't complete when we played around with it last night?
I really need to work out what's changed but I'm hesitant, I don't want him to know what I'm doing, or if I still have any control over it. What if he's waiting for me to slip up? What exactly will happen if it still isn't a true bond and he finds out? Maybe he won't care, in the terms of the business deal we'll still both be getting what we want. He might believe it's simply because of my telepathy but on the other hand he might be suspicious that I'm not everything I appear to be. What happens if he finds out I'm a fairy? What if he already knows, he's old, maybe he's tasted fairy blood before?
I sigh and Alcide raises an eyebrow but I ignore him.
When I don't think things through, I really don't think things through.
I could just leave things be, wait and see what happens but that doesn't seem very sensible. The something that happens could be sudden and would possibly be bad.
I sink inside myself. The Eric light is pulsing gently, in time with my heartbeats I realise, vaguely nauseated by the intimacy of it. Can he feel that, that's just, ugh . . . .
I can't feel him. Like last night other than the presence of his light there's nothing. No connection. It's a little bit like the afterglow on your eyelids of looking too near the sun. An illuminated shadow of what was there before. Now there's nothing specific to focus on I wonder if I can still open it? Should I?
No, I don't want to be rushing into anything else right now. It can wait, for a while. It's not like there isn't a bunch of other stuff to worry about. Niall said he couldn't control me, I can trust in that for a while.
I'm dragged out of my thoughts by a knock at the door.
"Vampire." Alcide says quietly, unfolding himself to his full height, scenting the air like a bloodhound.
"It happens a lot round here." I sigh again as I make my way to the door. "You'll get used to it."
"Bill."
"Sookie."
Bill eyes Alcide, who has come to stand behind me, with what I can only describe as jealousy peeking through his customary cool. I can almost see the neon sign flashing over his dark head. Mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.
As much as I don't want to bother with him right now, Bill and I have a lot to discuss.
"Come in Bill. Alcide was just leaving."
"You sure?" Alcide asks, though he clearly knows who Bill is and doesn't seem concerned by his presence.
"I'm sure. Some things really are private." And I offer him an apologetic smile.
Taking the hint he tips an imaginary hat to me and saunters out, shouldering Bill lightly on the way.
Bill hisses. Alcide chuckles. I roll my eyes.
Bill follows me back to the kitchen and I heat him a true blood automatically, leaning against the counter to watch him drink it.
"You have blood bonded with Eric." He says eventually.
"Yes. It was your idea, or so I'm told."
"It is not what I intended to happen." He says quietly, dropping his eyes.
"Bill, there's something going on here I don't understand and since it affects me I feel like I've a right to an explanation."
"I cannot."
"Can you at least look at me when you're letting me down?" I ask in exasperation.
His eyes meet mine, the puppy dog ones. I've never been one for puppies, I prefer kittens.
"You keep telling me you're sorry. You keep telling me you're trying to keep me safe. You keep telling me you love me. But I'm not feeling any of it right now Bill."
Tense, miserable, silence. Again.
"I do love you." He says sadly. "But you do not love me, do you?"
Oh, ah.
"It is very hard to love someone who's hiding things from you." I hedge.
"I can still feel you." He reminds me with a twisted smile.
"Good." I snap. "Then perhaps you can feel how desperately I want you to tell me the truth."
"I wish I could. Sookie, perhaps if you asked me the correct questions?"
Jesus, what is this, a game show?
"Alright. Why didn't you tell me about blood bonds?"
"I was forbidden."
"By who?"
"I cannot tell you that."
"Why didn't you bond with me if you loved me?"
"I do love you. And I was forbidden."
I'm guessing he's not going to tell me who by either.
"Why?"
"Because that might have prevented another vampire bonding with you."
"To control me?"
"Yes."
"Why would a vampire want to control me?"
"You are a valuable asset and an extremely desirable 'companion' to vampires." He smiles slightly. "And you are very strong and very stubborn. And vampires always like to be in control."
A horrible thought occurs to me.
"Did you really come back to Bon Temps to mainstream and live in your old house?"
"No."
Oh.
"Were you sent?"
"Yes."
Oh.
"For me?"
"Yes."
On wobbly legs I drag out a chair and lower myself into it.
"Can you tell me who by or why?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I am bound by oath and blood."
Okay, I'm not happy about any of that but we'll park it for now.
"Did you ask Eric to protect me?"
"Yes."
"Why, if you didn't intend for him to actually do it?"
"You are in great danger."
"From who?"
"I cannot tell you that."
The broken record.
"So you asked him to protect me but you weren't expecting him to actually do it, to bond with me?"
"No. I was hoping he would immediately surrender you to the Queen. She would be able to protect you, at least for a while."
"Why would he do that, hand me over?"
He shifts uncomfortably.
"He would have handed both of us over, I admitted to treason."
"Treason?"
A nod.
"But he didn't do that?"
A shake of the head.
"Why not?"
"He has always desired your talent, your blood and your body. I may have misjudged how far he would go to obtain them."
He sounds like he's talking about a pair of new trainers or something. And I can feel a headache coming on.
"He is very strong and very powerful." Bill continues. "In any other circumstances he probably could protect you but not these. If you were claimed by the Queen the others would not risk a war in order to get you."
"What others?"
"I cannot tell you that."
What am I all of a sudden, Helen of Troy? I drop my head into my hands.
"I wish I could tell you everything." Bill sighs. "Even though you will hate me for it."
"No offence Bill, but I'm not liking you a whole lot already." I mutter, refusing to look at him.
More silence.
"Are Eric and I in immediate danger?"
"I do not know. If they realise he has a claim on you? It might make them act quickly. It was one of the reasons I was so dismayed that you had taken his blood. Now, if they know he has blood bonded to you . . . ."
His words trail off.
"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"
He's quiet for so long I don't think he's going to answer but then he starts speaking.
"At first I was doing my duty, I had no desire to tell you. You were just a human I had been sent to procure.
Then I began to realise how special you were. Of course I knew the moment I met you that you were beautiful beyond compare, but it was a while before I could see your inner beauty, your bravery and loyalty. After being dead for so long, the life in you, it permeated me and made me feel whole. I came to love you very quickly. I hope you can believe that.
And then I was afraid. My oath bound me. My blood bound me. It was impossible for me, and still is, to tell you the truth. I tried and have been trying everything I could to keep you safe, to keep you with me, but I was constrained because I was selfish, I wouldn't risk the feelings for me I could feel growing inside you.
Sookie, if I had simply kidnapped you and taken you to the Queen weeks ago, you would be safe now. You would hate me. But you would be safe. I can never explain to you how much I regret my cowardice."
He will hurt you, Niall said. Master of the understatement.
With far more strength than I knew I possessed I lift my head to look at him again. Annoyed that I still find him attractive. Annoyed that I almost, but not quite, feel sorry for him. Annoyed that I can almost, but not quite, see the position he's in. But mainly just sad, tired and the obligatory scared.
"I will keep looking for a way to protect you and I will keep looking until my true death." He vows, getting to his feet.
"You can tell me the rest of it. You can help me stop it." I plead.
"No, Sookie, I cannot. I wish I could make you understand why. They would not have attacked the Queen. They will attack him. They will kill him and they will take you and there is probably nothing I can do to stop it now."
And before I can throw him out he turns and walks away. My arms give out and I let my head crash lightly onto the table top. So much of my life has revolved around this table, literally. And the lives of the Stackhouses before me, so many tales it could tell if it could only talk. So many I'd like to hear after the last few weeks. Did my Gran sit here with Fintan, discussing how they'd deceive my grandfather? Did it bear witness to the repercussions? Maybe my mom sat here and revealed to Gran why she was afraid of and hated her own daughter? Gran and Uncle Bartlett were sitting here the day she threw him out of the house and our lives. So much harm from secrets and deceptions. Suddenly it feels like a miasma covering the whole house, and me.
I hate the fact that I'm crying. Great heaving sobs that are threatening to tear me inside out. How does that help? Who does that help?
Maybe I do need a week off.
But I can't afford one. Despite my fear for me I feel curiously bad for Eric. Greedy he may have been but he's put himself out there to protect me and according to Bill signed his own death warrant in the process. If I weren't going to fight for me, and I will as soon as I know what it is I'm fighting, I at least owe him the heads up on the fact that he's in the firing line. No matter how pissed he's going to be.
I need to see him and quick. But I don't know where to start, he's everywhere inside me like glowing cotton candy, adhering to my every cell. Maybe I can gather it up into something I can work with? In no time at all I've amassed a huge, if imaginary, ball of it, fighting its desire to pull back from me and stick itself to whatever it can, but I hold it tight and allow myself to take out some of my frustration on it. I even use my mental teeth . . . .