The night began like so many others had. I had to call @RomanLucious to come into work because- once again- he failed to do so of his own freewill. While I poured through the bills that had accumulated for the month, I listened to him justify the purchases he had approved for the club including a new security system. As he explained all of our cameras were virtually worthless, I found my patience quickly waning. Investing so much more in equipment he had originally assured me would last for some time is annoying, to say the least, but the idea that nearly every bit of security footage the club was capturing was worthless was more annoying still.
Now, I wish he would have made the upgrades as soon as he made the outlandish purchase.
Of course, that would require the Deputy to actually spend some time in Fangtasia, which he isn't doing now. Do you want to know why? Because, according to the vampire, he is doomed.
I laughed.
Honestly, as Roman began recounting the events of a few days ago, explaining how an overcoming sensation of bad had suddenly met him, I thought he was paranoid to new levels never before achieved. He couldn’t stay awake during the daylight hours? He wasn’t capable of dreaming? That’s entirely normal, something the Deputy has never really been. To him, it seemed to be a sure sign that something was truly wrong and amiss.
I didn’t dismiss his feelings entirely, but I didn’t have reason to give them much weight either. Even as he went on to explain that @FaeKayley is in some kind of danger from a fairy prince she once was lovers with, I had a difficult time believing his “doom” was the doing of the fae. He didn’t like being told that, though, and it wasn’t long before he was throwing a tantrum and retreating from the club he was supposed to close the night with me.
I let him leave. Between closing on my own or closing with a glorified teacup, I’ll always choose on my own.
That was my first error of the evening.
Regardless of what one may think, a thousand years of existing does not truly make a vampire impossible to best. I like to think it does, but I really know far better than that. Every single night is a battle. I am in a position that makes me more visible and thus a bigger target. I know this. I prepare for it. I have only survived for as long as I have because I am determined to survive. I know there will be moments of pain and suffering. I know there will be torture. Since we left the coffin, the undead have never been at greater risk. Our enemies are numerous and eager. Knowing this is half the battle.
It certainly doesn’t make things any easier, however.
When it came time to close Fangtasia, I sent the employees home in an effort to finish the little remaining work waiting for my attention in peace, something I tend to get very little of when at the club. I had enough time to write a few emails and get off a call to @pamiravenscroft before things took a rather unpleasant turn.
I heard the sound of the back door open, though I was positive I had locked it. I heard the sound of two sets of footsteps and was certain they were human being far too loud for one of the undead. The disgusting smell of Were assaulted my nose along with the sickening sweet smell of an otherness that always unnerves me… magic.
It was worth investigation and I didn’t have far to go to find the intruders. Just outside the door of my office they stood, a male and a female. The male had long, shocking red hair, and the female was tall, dark, and two-natured. I could sense that both were witches from the unnatural scent that clung to them.
That was about all I could gather before my sight was robbed from me.
The agonizing burn of silver is something every vampire learns early in their existence. No matter how many times I have felt it’s sting, it never grows any easier. Now humans come up with such inventive ways to use that particular weakness against us. The colloidal silver was sprayed maliciously into my eyes and face, leaving me blinded and surprised.
Worse than the pain was the smell of my cold flesh as it boiled and burned away. The smell hung in the air as I was pushed backward, silver netting enveloping my body and burning into the exposed flesh of my arms.
They were surprisingly strong. I expect such strength from Weres, but even the male was strong. I did not connect those dots until the pair had backed me up to my desk and I felt the male’s hand collecting from and sampling from one of the fresh wounds the net had created on my limb.
It was difficult to maintain any kind of focus. A vampire survives because of their heightened senses and my own were failing me then. I was sightless, the blindness something more eerie, startling, and damning than anything I could put into words. My nose could process little more than the searing of my assaulted flesh as it flaked and gave away to the silver netting. I could touch nothing trapped beneath the silver blanket that encompassed me, burning me with any attempt I made. The only thing I could taste was my own blood as I attempted to bite back the sounds of agony that desperately wanted to escape.
I could not give my captors such satisfaction.
The only thing I was left with was my hearing, so I used it as best I could when already so overwhelmed. The man, @BrodyKeyes, had been looking for Roman. He spoke of having touched my Deputy already this week and immediately, my mind returned to Roman’s earlier words. He had credited his doom to the fae prince who haunts Kayley, but for this human- this witch- to make such remarks made it clear no fairy was responsible. What made the red-headed male I had so briefly seen so focused on Roman, I had no idea, but he was willing to take his issues with my Deputy out on me in Roman’s absence.
It was then that I felt the first stake. @WereHallow was stronger than any Were I had ever encountered before. She thrust the sharpened piece of timber through the flesh of my shoulder with an expertise that I can only say leaves me confident it is not the first time she has done such a thing. She missed my heart by quite a bit, a fact I was willing to point out if only to focus on anything other than the unthinkable pain.
And the pain truly was unthinkable.
I felt every sinew of muscle sever as the stake was thrust through it, tearing and ripping through me and into my desk, the sound of the wood splintering beneath me not deaf to my ears. I nearly wish that sense would have left me as well. Second death would have been easier than hearing them discuss the value of my blood and the qualities of it’s taste to their disgusting lips and tongues.
I will rip those tongues from their mouths if it is the last thing I ever do on this earth.
My blood, my ancient blood, my record of a thousand years spent wandering this plane… my everything was being drained from my body and licked directly from me by these vile excuses for humans. The blood I have forged my most valuable relationships with, the blood I have created my children with, the blood that defines me was leaving me at a rate so rapid, I could feel myself slipping.
The idea that my last moments could be spent with these deplorable witches gloating over robbing me of my very self sickened me to no end.
I struggled. It was a useless battle when I lacked the sight needed to catch them by surprise. It was all the motivation the female needed to send a stake through my healthy shoulder, leaving me once more stunned as the pain ripped through me.
I could feel the blood pouring from my wounds. I could feel the papers that cluttered my desk adhering to my bloodied back. I could feel the netting digging deeper welts into my now marred flesh. I could feel every drop of blood as it was pulled from me by their instruments of draining.
But I refused to let me lose myself to the pain. That would have been the easy thing to do then and it was certainly tempting, but I couldn’t. It is through pain that strength is found. I would find it, impossible as it seemed.
And it did seem impossible. Every vial that they filled left me weaker. My fruitless attempts to struggle only left me with larger holes to bleed out of and new flesh for the net to burn into. Still, I couldn’t give myself over to the pain and submit.
My blood was already out there, in my progeny and in my bonds. I called out to it with everything I could when already so weak and helpless.
Helpless. A thousand years experience, a thousand years surviving, thousands upon thousands of corpses laying in my wake, thousands of victories to my credit, and here, now, I was helpless.
If the pain had been any less significant and encompassing, I would have laughed aloud when I heard the Fangtasia phone ring. Only a brief moment was spent wondering who would use such a means to reach me when I was certain my condition could be felt by those connected to me. And then, realization dawned on me.
@BarmaidSookie.
I would have smiled had I been remotely capable. As ridiculous as calling the club was, I was thankful it was all she had done. The very idea of her putting herself in the way of these demonic, V-high witches was enough for me to goad my attackers further if only for them to hurry their torture of me along. If they intended on ending me, I would rather see them get to it before Sookie had a chance to reach me than have her meet her end in a similar fashion.
The very idea that @BrodyKeyes was speaking to my lover sickened me though. His face and voice will forever be emblazoned in my memory. Whatever motivates his deep hatred of Roman matters little to me when he has earned himself little more than another powerful enemy.
I can vaguely recall the Were encouraging me to smell something, but it was impossible. The scent of my burned flesh and my own blood were all I could process. It was so overpowering, I couldn’t even smell the stench of moon mutt upon her. She was willing enough to inform me the smell she was speaking of was gasoline and I could quickly figure out just what that meant.
I smelled the fire before I felt it. Pinned to my own desk beneath a silver net and blind, I was trapped, but I refused to be hopeless. Helpless, I could not deny, but I would not be hopeless.
Of course, that only meant more pain for me. I had a choice to make. I could either know more pain I could never have imagined now or inevitably meet my second death in mere moments.
I will always choose pain and existing.
With every ounce of my remaining strength, I forced myself off the desk, letting the stakes rip through my flesh fully and letting the silver net loosely laying over me fall to the floor once I was capable of standing. My arms felt useless from the torn muscle and I could feel what remained of my blood pouring from the fresh wounds.
What was more was the feeling of the flames as they jumped up my legs and burned what little flesh hadn’t been disturbed by the netting because of my clothing.
Still sightless, I didn’t require my eyes to know I was trapped. I could feel the flames so clearly as they sprang up around me, blocking my path if I didn’t want to meet my second death by my own doing. The doors were ablaze and I didn’t possess the strength to break through a wall.
I briefly recalled the numerous times @WaitressGinger found herself locked in the walk-in freezer and was only rescued thanks to our impeccable hearing and Pam taking pity on her.
Willing my arms to work enough to open the door was nearly impossible, but the flames lapping at me was all the motivation required. I managed to open the door to the refrigeration unit and stumble within before slamming it behind me.
The flames weren’t reaching me here. The chilled air didn’t smell of smoke when I took a blind, unnecessary breath, and I was instead only treated to a nauseating mixture of my blood, my burnt flesh, and a few human concoctions I couldn’t place. Through the thick, insulated walls of the unit, I could clearly hear the fire alarms followed shortly by sirens. It wasn’t long before I heard muffled, shouting voices coming from within the club… firefighters, I surmised.
I blindly searched the shelves I was slumped against. I recognized the shape of an open case of TrueBlood and opened a bottle of the cold, synthetic blood, draining it dry despite it’s undesirable qualities a few ways over. It was what I needed now if I intended on lasting even until dawn could kill me and take my pain with it.
I drained three bottles of cold blood in short succession before I gained blurry, flawed vision. I barricaded the door of the unit as best I could in my weakened state. I could hear the firefighters, but knew rescuing a vampire would not be on their list of priorities, nor would they truly know what to do with me if they found me. Seclusion in the chilled prison was better.
Also, it spared my already severely wounded pride.
Once the door was blocked and I once more slipped down to the cold, damp floor to down a few more bloods that I felt her. The agitation and panic wasn’t my own. I was as calm as I could be given my condition and present surroundings. As I closed my still blurry eyes and simply let myself feel, I realized Sookie was very near, so near she was almost with me.
I knew the personnel extinguishing the witches' fire would keep her from reaching me. A human life was much more valuable than that of a vampire to the average breather. I could feel her frustration at this, and though I ached with every ounce of my being, I allowed myself a brief, panged smile.
I take no satisfaction in the pain I am sure she is feeling now because of me. I do not like the feelings of despair, desperation, and frustration she is nearly overwhelmed by now, knowing I am the cause. I do not want to think of her so near when the witches may not have gone as far away as I can only hope they have. I loathe the judgment I am sure she is inundated with, both aloud and in thoughts as she waits for me.
But I am comforted by her nearness and by the idea that she is here because she wants to be. I can feel her affection, and it is the only warmth I can find in my present prison.
My body is not remotely healed. I am broken. I am starving. I am in more pain than I can recall being in. I have no idea why this has happened and have far more questions than I have answers.
But as I willingly submit to my daytime death, the only thoughts my mind knows belong to her, and I have never been more thankful for or more fascinated in another.
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