Joyeux Noël — Chapter 20

The characters of the Southern Vampire Mysteries belong to Miss Charlaine Harris. No infringement on my part is intended. The characters on True Blood belong to Mr. Alan Ball. No infringement on my part is intended.

I have no BETA, editor, or other such charming person. All mistakes are my own.

This story is rated M

Joyeux Noël — Chapter 20

Samuel was intently listening. Eric like to handle his own problems…sometimes on the stealthy side but mostly he left his victims with his signature bigger than life fucking meet your maker moves.

“The Krasiki Coven,” Samuel repeated as he began putting in numbers into his laptop. “No, no money under that name world wide. No nothing…real estate, stocks…not even money laundering.

I am narrowing the search to London and peeking under things that look suspicious. Nothing. Obviously they are not on any manifest list, money wise or shopkeeper.

I am now looking at palm readers, psychics, any supernatural in that trade in general.”

“Samuel,” Eric’s voice was serious. “Wion wears a scarab ring. We think this helps him not to age as quickly. Look for anyone who has any type of Egyptian anything on their web page.”

“Egyptian…” Eric could hear death in that word. “Got that,” his brother said, his voice lethal.

Eric continued on with the conversation, just as if he was passing the time of day. Would best not to poke the angel of death that was now Samuel Da’vid. “Sookie has seen the ring and she says it looks old. Lots of wear and tear. A few well worn, smoothed chips in the stone. Not just freshly minted and stamped with recent spells. She said it looked like the real deal. Something from a museum.”

“Something from the Middle Kingdom perhaps,” Samuel’s voice sounded lethal. “From my time as human.” Samuel spoke with a bit of an accent. As long as Eric had know him, there was always a soft lilt to his voice. The words now were hard and brittle. “How soon do you need the information?”

“We believe that Wion has taken a woman. We tracked a Were through Whitechapel. He met up with a drunk female coming out of a bar. We followed them to a parking garage. We know she was frightened. She pissed herself before he put her in the boot of his car. It was all over the floor. Since he did not kill her as Jack the Ripper, we think he needs a sacrifice because his world has gone to Were shit and he needs to get back on trajectory.”

“Do you think O.I can track?” Samuel asked.

“We will wake him and find out,” Eric replied. “We are running out of night.”

“This could be it,” Samuel said. “There is a shop in Twickenham, called The Pharaoh’s Daughter. Does cleansing, aura readings and purification using ancient symbols known only to the Middle Kingdom priests. They wrap you in one hundred year old linen with these scarabs tucked in. The shop backs up to the Thames. Not much traffic right now from London to Twickenham. Could take Wion less than an hour to get there. I am sending you the address and waking O.I. We will meet you there.”

Wion pulled around to the back of the shop. The loading dock door opened and he drove in.

Zoe was there and as soon as the door closed, she started!

“There is no way in hell we can mummify this woman today or tomorrow. And I mean the down and dirty, cheap and easy method. Remove her organs using a scalpel and dip her in wax. No, no and hell no! We do not have enough linen strips to wrap her properly. We do not have enough bee’s wax…we do not! Not here!” She was so upset spittle was flying from her mouth. “What the fuck is wrong with you? And the moon phase is all wrong! You think we can climb the steps of the pyramid to ask for this boon is three days, away? Away with you and your fucked up Were ways!” she hissed.

“She is in the boot,” he said smugly. “Better think of something or I am bashing in her head, rubbing her blood all over your back steps and tossing her in the river. Hello police,” his voice was merry, “I do believe I see blood and a lot of it, at the shop…”

“You fucker,” she snarled. “What am I supposed to do with her?”

“Wrap her in whatever you have and go ahead and store her in a sarcophagus. She can live for a few days as long as she has air. You can then transport her out to the farm…”

“Me transport her…?” she hissed at him. “No. That is where we live. We do not ever take work home.”

“Then you will have to deal with her here. But I need this done. I am in deep shit, which means you are in deep shit as well. Those skate boarders that disrupted the London traffic. They were Weres. They were my Weres. And Max Troll is wondering how we are going to get those weapons across that fucking mountain terrain now that we cannot hump them in.

You,” he poked his finger at her, “you promised him this was all going to work. You cast it, you saw it, you spoke the words and he believed. He paid you a million sterling…now you do this or we all are going to end up on his shit list. I believe he still drinks out of the skull of the last person that was on the top of that list. I have heard that the skull still feels pain and screams in agony.”

“Well,” she nodded. “I guess we could just wrap those areas on her that we do not need to access. I could go ahead and place some scarabs as we do the wrappings.”

“Good, that is what I want to hear. Very reasonable. Thinking ahead and saving time and our asses. We are a team. Let us work this as a team.”

Zoe knew Max Troll. This sacrifice was now their way out of some horrible, prolonged death. “Carry her down to the basement. The sacred room is open. I have been working down there. Lay her out on the altar. I am going upstairs and wake Polly and Petty. We will meet you there. Before we disrobe, you need to leave. No man can be present when we begin.”

“You really gonna fuck this woman until she orgasms one last time?” he grinned.

“She deserves that,” was all Zoe said as she headed up stairs.

Wion made his way down the steps and through the work rooms. Yes, he had been inside the chamber of death, he like to refer to it, once or twice. For the spell to work that he commissioned, you often had to be present. It was not his job to tell these witches how to run their business, but there was something about keeping those bodies in those stone boxes that creeped even him out. Not to mention if this chapel was ever found, it was a bit difficult to explain mummies that were just two years old.

Placing the woman on the altar, he smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said with a nod of his head. “For drinking too much and for being such a whore in your heart. Picking up a man on your way out of a bar. You deserve to die.”

Her two sisters had heard the ruckus and were awake. “Good,” Zoe said as she spied them fingering their monkey bones. “Let the monkey rest and get dressed. Wion needs a mummy.”

Pulling on robes, they descended the steps like the princesses that they were.

Once in the basement, Petty walked over to the woman and lifted her hair. “Nice color,” she smiled dreamily. “That ginger color is real.

“Careful with the needle,” Zoe said as Petty filled it with the sleepy time juice. “Do not think you can be twirling it around like a baton. You stick yourself and I am leaving you where you fall.”

“Can I eat her heart?” Polly asked as she cut off the sacrifice’s clothes.

“Of course not,” Zoe replied, turning to look at her sister and wondering what had happened in their gene pool. “It has to go in the Coptic Jar.”

“I know that,” she snorted. “But why could we not use a pig’s heart to substitute for human? What ancient god is going to know the difference?”

“Sister dear has been snorting,” Petty said as the last of the clothing was stripped away. “She did a locator spell to find your last bag of powder. She found it in record time. I think she has a nose for it,” she laughed out loud at her own joke.

Zoe hissed an obscenity and picked up an ancient Egyptian knife. She had promised herself if Polly stepped out one more time…

“This one, she has nice tits,” Petty said nodding her head. “She will have nice tits for all of eternity. I envy her that.”

“Oh sister dear, you can have nice tits also,” Polly giggled as she swung downward and the ancient Egyptian sacrificial ax split open Petty’s head.

“Fucking shit!” Zoe grasped the ceremonial knife and it took on a life of its own in her hand and plunged repeatedly into Polly’s chest and belly. Even after her sister fell and with blood flying everywhere, Zoe could not let the blood lie idle…that would be wasteful!

She laughed gleefully as she began chanting a spell and then realized what she had done!

“Fucking shit!” Zoe squeaked as she ran up the stairs and out into the night heading straight for the boat dock. Dropping the knife in the river, she jumped into the boat, started it and headed west.   The Farm was off limits! She could not take this back there! King Hats would put her head on a pike for her pet ravens to eat! She had assured King Hats that she had this! That their righteous walk and offerings were found worthy! The signs had assured her that the Were would deliver the goods and the Krasiki Coven would be golden! Instead she was in panic mode and headed for the stone henge and the cave! No one could find her there!

When they had purchased the Hunter boat without a sail that could sleep four, she had thought it a total waste of money. “This is fucking brilliant,” she shivered out in the cold. “This boat is going to save my life…and perhaps my after life as well.”

Starting the engine, she pulled out into the river, her heart beating as fast as the engine turned over.

“Damn, damn, damn, damn…” she sobbed. There was only the chugging of her boat as she navigated the waterway without running lights on, the tears streaming down her face for all that she had lost.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” she sobbed. “Rasputin made a come back…so…” she was crying, “so can I.

Wish I could see,” she wiped at her eyes. “Where did this fucking fog come from? Not that it matters. I know this river just like I know how long it takes me to orgasm. There are no more fuel docks between here and the next five miles. Just small crafts this time of morning,” she talked to herself as the shadows began to creep about and mock her. “I can hear any small boat that might be coming this way.”

What she could not hear were the wings of a dragon. And that fog that had suddenly enveloped her, that was dragon steam, cooling on the water as O.I. blew it out and watched the pitiful creature that was covered in blood spatter as she sobbed and made plans for a better day.

With one mighty flap of his wings, O.I. pushed the fog out of the way.

Zoe could see a thousand pound dragon coming in for what looked like to be a kill. Flames blowing out his nostrils and his talons out stretched, ready to rip the soul from her! Her pentagram reading had always said she would die at the hands of a dragon! She just fucking did not believe it…as she stood to wave him off or welcome him, she did know which one as fear gripped her, her heart stopped and she slumped over into the water.

O.I circled around back to the shop.

Eric was on the phone. “Director, we have a grisly scene here. The shop is called The Pharaoh’s Daughter located in Twickenham. There are two dead females. There is one woman yet breathing. Drugged with something.

The drugged one, Wion dropped her off here. My best guess says she was to be a sacrifice and mummified from the looks of things.”

O.I. stuck his head in. “One in the water, dead. West of here.”

“And another is in the river, dead. West of here. Daylight is fast approaching. If you would be so kind as to call the police we are headed for shelter.”

Benjamin Castle stood there staring at his phone. “How the fuck does he do that?” he said as he dialed Scotland Yard. “Director Devon, you owe me a night out in London,” he began as he relayed the information.

There was a lot of swearing and orders being barked. Benjamin just smiled as he thought about where he wanted to have dinner. Perhaps Buckingham Palace…

A special ops team boarded a helicopter from the roof of The Yard and lifted off as the Chief Inspector of Twickenham was notified of the travesty that had happened in his city.

“Head for home,” Eric said to his vampire compatriots. “Ian and Cedric, climb on me. Samuel, you are with Pamela. O.I., you take Lafayette and blaze the trail. We need to be airborne right now.”

“Home with an hour to spare,” O.I. smiled at the group of heroes. “We rescued the girl, did not have to do any killin’, they took care of all of that themselves.”

Sookie was on her second cup of coffee and sorting through the stories.

“So, one woman killed the other and the one who fled the scene killed the second woman and O.I., if I get this right, she had a heart-attack or somethin’ like that when she saw you and died and fell in the water.”

“Yes Miss Sookie,” his purple eyes flashed fire as smoke poured out of his nose. “That would be corrects. Evil done took care of itself. The last one though, I am claimin’ that kill.”

“That murderin’ skank,” Lafayette nodded in agreement. “She saw the face of rightness lookin’ at her moldy bottom feedin’ ass and she went to shake it all out with God. M-m-m h-m-m-m. And rightly so, my little man. Chalk one up to your goodness and flame throwin’ ways.”

“Well you guys did good,” Sookie grinned. “And we are all glad you are home safe and sound and that you saved the girl.”

“Sun is on the horizon,” Eric said looking toward the windows. “Rest well this day, my compatriots.”

“And to you as well,” was echoed back as vampires disappeared and the only people left standing in the room were humans. Two who kissed their vampire out the door.

Gran looked at the tea pot and instead poured herself coffee and added the heavy cream laced with brandy. “They were going to mummify that woman…” Gran’s voice trailed off. Anger on her face.

“M-m-m hm-m-m Gran. Saws it myself,” Lafayette nodded. “She was partially wrapped and they had done drawn lines on her where to make the incisions. Did me a world of good to see them mo’ fo’n witches dead at their own hands,” he said with conviction.

“And Wion is still on the lose,” Gran was squinting, as if she was trying to find him through the passage of time.

“Seems to be,” Lafayette said as he eyed Gran’s breakfast beverage of choice and fixed himself and O.I. the same. “He was not seen at the shop. His scent was there, though. My little man’s could smell it. So it appears he just dropped off his sacrifice and kept on being lower than Were shit as he motored off.”

“What?” Sookie arched an eyebrow. “He can rip and slash women on the streets of London, but making a mummy out of that woman was not his thing, huh…?”

“Just lower than Were shit, he is,” O.I. added as he eyed the bottle of brandy and poured a great and good dollop of that into his cup as well.

“You read anythin’ off those Fresh Deads?” Sookie asked Lafayette.

“Those two that were dead, they did not seem to be lingerin’. Did sense several others that were not restin’ easy. Those witches had one whole wall lined with sarcophagus’. Thinks I counted fifteen. Will be especially excitin’ when the police start openin’ those up and they find those bodies.”

“Real excitin’,” the king of the dragons chimed in. “Just sayin’. From the smell, you could tell it was not ancient bodies. Maybe one past one hundred years dead, some more recent. Those lazy asses did not prepare the bodies like the ancient priests, did. Nope. Just dipped them in paraffin.”

“Ee-uuu,” Sookie made a face.

“One or twos,” Lafayette’s voice became very still and quiet. “They was still alives when…” his voice trailed off. “I could hear them screamin’ in agony as the wax was poured onto them.”

“Gag,” Sookie shook her head. “Hand me the bottle and screw the coffee. I think this mornin’ needs somethin’ a bit stronger.”

“And we are sticking to home, today,” Gran’s voice was final. “Scully said he would rest easier knowing his family was here. Samuel did a very good job of filling him in of what they found in the basement of the shop. So, let’s spend the day in the library doing research. I have a very rough outline of what I think the chapters are going to look like. Let us sit down with that bottle of brandy and those chocolate dipped figs and make this idea a reality.”

“I am takin’ those chocolate croissants, as well,” Sookie nodded. “And that hot vanilla puddin’. I need somethin’ to dip my croissant in. Maybe stick a couple of fresh strawberries in the middle and then dip it in the puddin’.”

“Good strategies,” O.I. said as he licked the last bit of vanilla bean tastiness from his lips. “I’ll help carry.”

The merry group of writers spent the day at home. They could certainly abide by Scully’s wishes. It was a cold rainy day and they were happy to be snuggled up in front of a fireplace that you could easily park a Land Rover in.

O.I. was flame on when Lafayette would toss in extra wood, sending sparks dancing about until they made their way up the chimney along with the smoke rings of couples dancing that O.I. was blowing out to enhance the mood.

The library was home base. There was companionship, food and libations. They freely wandered about Ian’s manor house for inspiration. A photograph, a sketch, a rubbing of the intricate Celtic dragon carvings that surrounded the massive fireplace. All things fired their imaginations and with the real life stories as their inspiration, the novel began to take shape.

Lunch had been a joyous and somewhat rambunctious affair. Amidst the alcohol and the tall tells, they laughed until Sookie slumped back in her leather couch, snuggled into a velvet blanket. “Can it always be like this?” she asked looking around at her family as she felt the tears began to flow. “I am serious. This is…like a dream…and when I wake up I have to go back to the nightmare of knowing that I will end my days working at Merlotte’s. That I will be alone and only known to the drunks of Renard Parish.”

“Sookie,” Gran reached over and took her hand. “Sookie my dear,” she placed her hand on her cheek.

O.I. lifted off from around Lafayette’s neck and settled on her shoulder.

“Miss Sooks,” he rubbed his snout against her nose. “You is gonna see better days. More glorious than this. Now, I am seein’ a ring of engagements on your finger. I have an idea for the weddin’!”

“Thanks,” she sniffled. “I know I am blessed. And probably a little drunk. And Eric has told me he wants to marry me. Just to pick the date.”

“Then let’s do that,” O.I. wiggled his eyebrows. “The grand book is comin’ right along. Let’s push it aside and let’s talk a weddin’!”

“A wedding,” was said from the doorway and there stood Eric.
“What are you doin’ up?” Sookie’s voice was horrified as she hurried toward him.

“I could hear your crying,” he responded as he took her in his arms and held her next to him. “What is wrong?” he asked her gently.

“You bein’ up,” her voice was shaking. “That is what is wrong!”

“So far,” he brought her face up so he could see her beautiful eyes. “I am fine. It is dark outside and raining. I will monitor for the bleeds. But I think I could lie on the couch with my head in your lap and close my eyes and listen to what is being said.

Now…” he kissed her on the nose. “What is being said? I heard words about a wedding. Our wedding? I am most hopeful.

And why are you crying?” his face was even with hers as his eyes sought out the smallest hurt that she had felt.

“I’m a little bit drunk and countin’ my blessin’s and worryin’ that this is not real and I am headed back to the nightmare of bein’ unloved and dyin’ alone because nobody wants to know Crazy Sookie.”

“Fair enough,” Eric walked with her over to the couch. Sitting her down, he laid down and put his head in her lap and closed his eyes. “However, I happen to love Crazy Sookie and I must count as at least a half a someone,” he grinned at her.

“Oh Eric,” she placed kisses all over his face. “At the moment,” she drew back from him and hiccupped, “I got nothin’ more than those kisses and I love you.”

“A good place to start,” he assured her as he brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. “Now. A wedding. O.I., you keep alluding to letting Mr. Shakespeare shape our nuptials. I am interested in hearing your ideas.”

O.I. was vastly entertaining. They all applauded his grand designs and as the afternoon wore on, Eric would, from time to time, sip from Sookie’s wrist. As darkness welcomed the full onslaught of night, vampires rose and sticking their heads in said their hellos and that they would be back after they had their evening meal.

Lafayette and O.I. went to the kitchen in search of a pre dinner snack and Eric and Sookie were left in the library.

“Is it always like this?” she asked him.

“Like what?” he asked, sitting up and pulling her next to him.

“Early this morning. All that death. O.I. told us about it, findin’ those women. Then findin’ that secret chamber with all those bodies…those poor souls. Lafayette said some of them were still alive when they poured that wax all over them.

I know the world is made up of evil…but that kind of stuff tears at my heart.

Is this what you do? Try to right those wrongs.”

“Part of it,” he responded. “But Sookie, sometimes I am that wrong, so to speak. I am most happy that it was not me doing the killing this time. I have left must worse carnage.

I know this world is different from yours. What lays hidden behind the money can be bloody and hideous. And I want you to be happy and to have options. Now that you know these things, Sookie, have you changed your mind about marrying me?”

“No, of course not,” she shook her head. “Believe me, poor can be bloody and hideous as well. Rich folks don’t have the monopoly on that.

I think it just must get wearisome.”

“It does,” he nodded. “And the fact that it does eat at you, that keeps you a step up from the degenerates and the evil that lurks out there that enjoys killing innocents.

This coven, they are evil, Sookie. And any type of swift death they do not deserve. If it was up to me, it would be something prolonged and agonizing.

What they did was horrific. What they were going to do to that woman…” he shook his head. “She was drugged but conscience. That Lafayette could hear the other mummies still screaming in pain says much.”

“I heards my name,” Lafayette came back into the library with O.I. fluttering behind him both of them carrying a plate of munchies to share.

“One of them mummies,” Lafayette nodded his head, “was one of their own coven. Still pleadin’ for release. Those souls that are attached to Wion that he is so pleased about carrin’ around. I am sure these are the mo’ fo’ers who attached them to him.”

“Mo fo’er’s,” O.I. nodded in agreement.

“One of their own,” Sookie shuddered. “So who do you know who to trust?” her voice was low.

“Who do you trust?” Eric asked.

“Used to be Gran and Lafayette,” she felt the tears well up one more time. “But now, I have you Eric, and Poppa Scully and O.I. and Samuel, Ian and Cedric.

Mr. Clifford. I am sure I could trust him.”

Eric pulled her in close and smiled at her. “Yes, “those are the people that I trust. Those that are in this house. All others are suspect.”

“Even those guys you talk to in the government about this stuff? You don’t trust them?” her eyes were wide.

“Especially those guys,” Eric said with a nod of his head.