Disclaimer: Charlaine Harris owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chpt 62 Give Light . . .
EPOV
I cannot be sure that Niall will help us, he has his own, larger, responsibilities, but I trust that he will ensure Sookie's safety. I have to, since I possibly cannot do so myself.
She has been amazing tonight, shown poise beyond her years in exposing the hidden agenda of the Council and their reaction to her revelations was not something she could have predicted. Vampire, especially the older ones, do not react well to the new and unknown and what looks like prudence in our elders is sometimes merely panic in action, to paraphrase Umberto Eco. They will continue on the course they have set, dig in and use their might in an attempt to ensure success. I hope she can see that, understand that her limits are sometimes set by those of the world around her, know that she is not to blame.
Of course Pamela and I did not trust this gathering at all, deciding to make our own plans. Half the AVL guards here owe their allegiance to the European Monarchs, that is one of the reasons they are so trusted in the New World, they have little local loyalty, and though I am not the only US vampire with Old World roots, I am one of the few that has bothered to cultivate and maintain them.
I am not sure if Sookie has picked up on the fact we have allies among the guards, no one can be expected to catch everything and as she cannot read my mind she would not be aware of my telephone conversations with Pam.
The smoking hole in the floor has certainly put the cat among the pigeons, but it has also bought time for those committed to us to complete their journey to my side.
The playing field is not exactly even, just not tilted as far toward De Castro's agenda as he would like.
NPOV
Well I cannot really blame her, everyone craves their chance to be heard, once she realised that no matter what she said the vampire were going to do their own thing it was only a matter of time.
Desmond put the fire out before it could spread and I have sealed the doors to the amphitheatre. Whatever plays out here now will only be between those of us currently present, though I reserve the right to pop a few of my guard in if the need arises.
I am a little disappointed that the Viking did not share his concerns and plans with his mate but I recognise his reasoning and I cannot really censure him for a lesson my wife had to teach me. Repeatedly. I am sure my little ray is more than able to deal with it when the time comes.
Relationships, in my experience, are a lot harder to manage than supernaturals.
SPOV
It takes precious moments to review the tape in my head and realise what's actually happening, not easy to do when chaos is erupting around us.
None of the black clad figures separate us, some are repelled by the four that are standing with us, the others by the charge that Thalia, Alcide and Charles mount to join us. Niall, of course, simply pops into existence beside Eric, flipping a brief smile over his shoulder at me before turning to face the room.
"Guards!"
"Guards!"
Jesus as if they don't have enough in here already for the ten of us . . . .
"Seize them!"
Honestly I don't think I even had time to blink before the fight breaks out. I can't see it myself but then I don't need to and it probably wouldn't help, the minds around me are a whirling blur of blows struck and taken.
The first wave that crash into our defenders are repelled and I'm wedged down into the corner by Eric's massive body as Niall pushes him back and leaps forward into the fray instead.
Eerily the fight is almost silent. There's none of the screaming or shouting I would have imagined for such violence, just grunting, snarling, the sound of bodies struggling together and the occasional stomach churning rip of flesh or snap of bone.
I can't follow it all so I focus on the minds of my friends.
Eric's body is jostled but he stays over me, lashing out when someone gets too close, calmly focussed on ways for turning this abrupt descent into chaos to our advantage. And it is chaos, another, much bigger, louder fight, has broken out on the other side of the amphitheatre when the vampires realise that not only can't any more guards get in, but they can't get out.
Breathe Stackhouse, you're not a vampire, you need to breathe. I'm glowing like a Chinese lantern, my whole body, I wish I knew what to do with it . . . .
Some of the guards are withdrawing, grabbing weapons, firing silver nets into the air, silver bullets into the struggling bodies.
Charles is hit in the shoulder, one of the guards standing with us in the thigh, Eric's body jerks as something thuds into him and he slumps to his knees falling back to cover my body with his own. My arms snap round him, hands immediately encountering the cool sticky blood soaking his shirt and the hard mass protruding from his chest.
Oh Jesus, please, tell me that's not a stake, p-please . . . .
"ERIC!"
NPOV
"ENOUGH!" I roar with all the resonating power that can be garnered over five thousand years of being obeyed.
It is not enough, but there is an infinitesimal pause, which the arrival of twenty full armed Fae warriors serves to cement.
Not all the vampire here know what they are but all recognise their silver chainmail and weapons as the potential for serious trouble.
In a matter of seconds the AVL's guards are disarmed and the room divided into two by my men, vampire herded before their Monarchs who have resumed the bench, and my little ray's people clustered around her and her fallen soul mate.
White hot fury is coursing through me, making it impossible to speak while I struggle to control myself. I am angry with these supernatural toddlers for their immature reactions and I am angry with myself, I should have controlled this situation much more closely from the start. I knew he was armed with a stake and I foolishly relied on my belief that he would not get close enough to us to use it, I underestimated him, and his throwing ability.
My little ray's pain is going to tear me in two.
My hands are balled into fists and my own light is threatening to explode in an orgy of destruction. My late wife was both an admirer, and hater, of my epic temper. What she would make of this night I cannot imagine . . . .
"What is the meaning of this?" Mississippi eventually asks, quietly and almost, respectfully.
Since I still cannot speak Desmond moves forward to address the vampire.
"My Regent, His Majesty Niall Brigant, Emperor of the Realms, King of Faery and Prince of the Sky Fae will address you when he is ready."
Their sudden swell of recognition and fear does nothing to amuse me, but it does unlock my vocal chords.
"You!" I thunder, my pointing finger unerringly finding the King of Nevada where he is attempting to hide in the press of bodies by the bench. "Will come here."
"Now." I add, as an afterthought.
I point down to the floor before my feet, where he will kneel, whether he likes it or not.
The vampire around him part like the Red Sea and reluctantly he approaches, his steps slowing as he clears their bodies and becomes fully exposed in the center of the room.
Patience is not one of my virtues so I take control of his leg muscles and walk him toward me, perversely enjoying their resistance, dropping him to his knees a few feet in front of me and locking him in place.
Before I deal with him I raise my blazing eyes to the bench.
"The King of Philadelphia, Victor Madden, killed Sophie-Anne Leclerq and her children, the night of his failed takeover. And I killed him. It was my Royal Guard that attacked his forces at the Palace. Louisiana, albeit reluctantly, achieved his crown fairly and by the will of his people.
It was I who killed the Rhodes bombers and it was I who made the Reverend Steve Newlin vampire.
Now that you have the 'truth' you seek this farce of an enquiry and show trial is complete."
New York opens his mouth to ask questions but then thinks better of it. Sensible vampire.
My eyes travel to Nan Flannigan's.
"I will tell you what to report when I am done here."
"This is a matter for vampire . . . ." She objects.
"Everything is a matter for me if I choose to make it so, Ms Flannigan." I cut her off. "You can either report what I tell you or I will take your tongue and have someone else do it."
Like several of the others she glances at Thalia's Maker, waiting for her to intervene but when she remains quiet all eyes return, fretfully, to me.
"Since your laws are open to interpretation, to put it mildly." I sneer, still absolutely livid. "I am going to do some interpretation of my own."
I glance down at De Castro, scared but not nearly scared enough . . . .
"You came here this evening to twist a charge of regicide to your purposes and now I will apply it to mine."
I jab my finger in De Castro's face, enjoying his flinch. "You came to this Council armed with a stake in the event that your plot, with the bench, to frame Louisiana required extra embellishment. When the opportunity presented itself you decided to use it to end Louisiana instead. That is regicide, punishable by the true death."
"No." He murmurs, shaking his head emphatically.
Oh you tiny man. Resistance is futile.
"Coveting my Great Granddaughter and ending her mate is an offense punishable by pain." My coldest, cruellest, smile. "A great deal of it."
His shrieks drown out my little ray's.
And so they should, his pain is required to be much greater than hers.
"He is quite the screamer." Ortel observes a few minutes later.
I nod, keeping my eyes on the assembled and somewhat cowed vampire on the other side of the amphitheatre.
"What are you doing to him?" He whispers.
"He thinks I am scraping the flesh from his bones with silver meat hooks."
"Ouch." Ortel chuckles.
Indeed.
The beauty of being me is that I could keep him like that forever, the pain always fresh, no breaking of his mind.
Tempting, but inappropriate to the message I need to convey. And Eildith would be furious.
Eventually I stop, it is time to move onto other things.
"Stake." I order, holding out my hand.
Ortel pops the one from the Viking's chest onto it, his blood has congealed into a sticky mass. Oh Sookie, I am so sorry . . . .
Felipe De Castro is still kneeling before me, swaying, blood trickling from his eyes, ears and nose. Frankly quite scared enough.
With my eyes still on the other vampires I flip the stake in my hand and plunge it into Nevada's heart, looking down in time to see his eyes go wide, his mouth fall open in a silent scream, every muscle in his body clenching so it arches him further onto the stake, pulling it deeper.
"Goodbye Your Majesty."
One. Two. Three. Four. Five . . . .
Splat.
"Now then." I begin, sounding, I think, quite reasonable for a man whose Savile Row suit is now liberally spattered in gore. "Let us discuss what must happen next . . . ."
EPOV
I do not know what I was expecting, pain beyond anything I have ever experienced probably, I had somehow always assumed that the destruction of my body and the blood magic that animates me after death, would be excruciating. Every molecule torn apart under extreme protest . . . .
There is pain but there are other sensations too, that I was not expecting, and cannot seem to make sense of.
There is darkness.
And time.
Warmth.
And sound.
Movement.
And desperation.
Pain.
And soul sucking cold.
There was . . . . something important . . . . I had it . . . . here . . . . I . . . .
The screaming and the velvet blackness are clogging my mind like treacle, making it difficult to think.
Dying, it seems, is nothing like I remember it to be.
The blinding light and piercing sense of loss, these though, are not entirely unexpected . . . .
…..
I 'wake' with every muscle in my body rigid and a silent scream on my lips.
There is something missing and when the rictus leaves me I instinctively reach sideways to capture it, my hand clenching, and ripping, empty and cool cotton sheets.
And then I am on my feet, both hands clawing at the still broken skin over my heart, a very real roar of pain wrenched from the depths of my soul.
There is nothing.
For the first time, in an agonisingly short blip, I am alone . . . .