Banner The Curse of the Eclipsing Blood Moon

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.

 

The Curse of the Eclipsing Blood Moon

Chapter 2

The morning of the 5th passed quickly. They made scones and lemon curd. Gran took blackberries out of the freezer and made individual pies in the muffin tin. When she baked the rosemary bread, Sookie’s tummy started to rumble.

“Do we need vanilla ice cream to go with those cute little pies?” she asked. “If so, I am more than happy to go to the store.”

“That sounds good dear. And while you are there, have them slice a couple of pieces of roast beef and that honey baked ham they do. And buy the German brown mustard. Our little feast will be exceptionally nice.”

When Sookie returned from the store, the dining room table was set with Gran’s wedding china and silver. Sookie admired the heavy silver cutlery and how nothing like this could be afforded by them, today.

Gran’s family had been a somebody back in the day. Her family’s business had been buggy whips. There were still one or two out in the shed. Gran had used one on her brother when she found out he had been molesting Sookie.

Sadly, the family had not kept up with the times and when they did not adapt to the automobile, the business closed. The founding industrial father had sold off the big house and they had downsized to something far more modest and could be afforded by the small investments they had coming in. They kept a few things that spoke of their past glory. The china and silver had been kept and  passed down to the oldest daughter. So when Gran married, it came to her.

And here it sat now. On her dining room table where she was going to have tea with her granddaughter and her adopted grandson.

“Do you remember the big house at all?” Sookie asked. “You said at one time you saw a photo of it at your grandparents.”

“Yes, Grandmother was a Hale that had married a Hale so she came with a sizable dowry and inherited her parent’s house that they lived in.

When they moved to New Orleans, she had a photo that she kept in her sewing room. She could not put it where Grandfather could see it. Brought back too many unpleasant memories. Former glories and all that.

They had lived in Kansas City during their wealthy years. In River Market, overlooking the Missouri river. The house was limestone and had a grand driveway leading up to a front porch that stretched across the front and around on both sides. The photo was taken in the summer and there were plants of all types sitting out with white wicker furniture. You could have easily entertained a hundred people out there. The front of the house had thirty-three windows stretching across the front. I counted them one time when Grandmother was teaching me my embroidery stitches. Since it was her childhood home, she told some lively stories.”

“So how is it they ended up in New Orleans?”

“Because of their downfall, Grandfather said they could no longer live where anyone knew them.

Grandmother knew times were going to be tuff so she made the decision to move to N.O.

 Grandmother told fortunes from tea leaves, read palms and read folks auras. That was her egg money. Grandpa raised a few chickens and sold eggs to the local restaurants. And that was his folding money.”

“So Great-Great-Grandmother Hale had the gift?”

“Most assuredly,” Gran nodded at the memory. “I can remember her saying she told the old man to sell when someone wanted to buy the business. That the horseless buggy was going to take off and who would need a buggy whip? He laughed,  called her crazy and mortgaged the house and purchased another building and ramped up business, spending money like a wild man. Then along came Henry Ford and it was too late.”

“Men,” Sookie breathed out. “I guess that helps to explain Jason. It will be because I say so.

“He does come by it honestly,” Gran nodded in agreement.  “Oh good,” she said looking out the window, “Lafayette is here. Let me put the kettle on.”

Lafayette was made much over when he came into the house. Gran proudly showed him the dining room.

“Lordy, His La La Fineness says, I am blinded by the brilliance of the light setting aglow all that silver on the table! Gran, this looks His La La Fineness splendid! You has done peered into my brain and knows how I would like to set a tea table.”

“Well, thank you Lafayette,” she hugged him, again. “I used the book you gave me for Christmas, Tea & Me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he winked at her. “How the poor South does tea London style. You just gathers yours this and thats and it is just too pretty for words.

I am honored to be your guest.”

“Well,” she smiled, “I will be tea mum. And once we sample the things on the pyramid, there are one or two things to discuss. At any time, please feel free to leave.  I hate drawing you into this Lafayette, but we would like your perspective.”

“Besides,” Sookie locked gazes with him, “if somethin’ happens to me, you will need to take care of Gran.”

“What the fuck…?” he looked from one woman to the other. “I dids not bring my shot gun. Do I needs to go and gets it?”

“The tale is in the telling,” she sighed and passed the pitcher of honey liquor, “so fill your cup with this.”

Lafayette listened to the story not saying much and kept looking over at Sookie. “Knows your Druid ways, am much obliged when you let me sit in your stone circle out in the pecan grove. Did not realize you had a grimoire.”

“What?” Sookie put down her spoon. “We don’t have a book of spells.”

“If your ancestor kept notes, then this is her journal. And she was a Druid. So her written words hold power. Let’s just call it what it is. A grimoire.”

“Never thought of it that way,” Gran replied. “Wait one, and I will get it.”

Going into her bedroom, when she came back to the table, she handed the volume to Lafayette.

His eyes took in the ancient book and he nodded his head. “Never in my days did I think to see a medieval manuscript up close and personal. Tis a thing of beauty and power. Can feel it radiating out before I even holds it. Wood for the outer cover with a chain for wrapping around it and locking it that has long since gone missin’.

May I?” he asked Gran.

“Of course,” she replied.

“Gots to be respectful and asks permission. Don’t want to offer any offense.”

“Please, Lafayette,” she nodded, “you have my permission to open it and turn the pages and whatever else…” her hands fell helplessly at the table.  “I was taught to respect the earth and the things that grow and live upon it. To walk the stone circle and say my prayers when I was burdened. My mother said that was all there was to being a Druid. That is what I have passed down to Sookie. This book, this was just a diary that my ancestor kept.”

“More than one,” Lafayette turned his critical eye to it. “More than four hundred years old, Gran. Way older.”

Lafayette pushed his tea cup out of the way and then took the book from her. “You did goods and righteous, Gran, by our Miss Sooks. She walks the circle and thanks Jesus for her blessin’s,” Lafayette nodded his head and touched only the edges of the velum as he turned the pages. “Never in my days did I thinks I would touch such a thing of beauty. And worth,” his eyes once more rested on Gran. “Knows this is family, but if you ever needs money, contact Sotheby’s. They will auction it off for a fortune. As in you lives happily-ever-after in whatever expensive neighborhoods you wants. Would loves to take my time and peer through this work of art. But we got sundown comin’ on and the moon settin’.

So tonight, we knows if this hell mouth that opens in N.O. involves Sookie or not.”

“You will stay here and wait with us?” Sookie asked.

“You knows I will. When you goes to war, you always takes yous friends with you.”

They were all standing outside as the five o’clock hour ticked silently down.

“Moon is setting,” Lafayette said, looking at his watch. “Sun still sittin’ in the sky but has hidden itself behind the trees. All eyes on the night sky.”

“Stars are out,” Sookie’s voice was quiet. “Look how bright they are. Here comes dusk. I can see the purple giving way…what?” her voice halted. “Giving way to a river of stars…” she gasped.

“The Aurora Borealis,” in Gran’s voice was disbelief.

“A Viking dragon boat,” Sookie gasped out. “Do you see it?”

“Fuck…me…running…,” Gran’s voice shook.

“Lafayette?” Sookie managed to get out.

“Yes I do. It is sailing on that river of stars,” his voice was quiet as they all stood and watched.

When the earth was swaddled in darkness, the vision of

 

Aurora purple copy 3

the impossible that held them in its thrall was broken. The ship and the sea of stars it had been riding on was gone.

Meanwhile, standing outside admiring  the sky in Shreveport was a Viking vampire…reflecting on his life.

 “Fuck me running,” he breathed out in a heavy sigh as he watched the night sky and waited.

Fuck…he could see the twinkle of the purple lights begin! And there it was! The purple was rising!  His destiny…his family’s heritage!

You cannot,my Grandmother told me, escape your fate. She was leaving our village and going to a Druid henge in England where she would fight with her brother against the evil that wanted to crawl out and destroy his village.

Why you, I asked her.

Because our family did not destroy this villain when given the chance to do so. And this villain now brings evil to our world that would destroy us. Until we right this wrong, this is our war to fight.

Family…they will fuck you over every time. And continue to do so long after they are dead and you are still fighting the good fight. And Vikings, we keep our promises.

So here I am…fighting the good fight. And this will not be the first time I have stood in a henge and battled this bastard that comes to end us all. Somewhere out there, is a Druid relative, that will contact me and once more, we shall stand together and close the portal.

Fuck. Me. Running.

I am a vampire that is a thousand years old and I am out watching the night sky for a dragon boat that at least gives me enough warning to gather my friends and prepare for war!

Fuck!

And fuck the daylight! And the setting sun….and the rising sun! And whatever else thinks to dictate my life! And fuck th earth for spinning on its axis that sets all of this in motion and cheats me of my life that I live between sundown and sunrise!

From time-to-time I can cheat the vampire fate and keep my eyes focused on the dark that is overhead and not the setting sun that is behind me. Tonight, is such an occasion.  I am granted a reprieve so that I might watch the fates as they decide my destiny.  Fucking fates!

My destiny…seriously…I was to die in a glorious battle. And I almost did. I was on my funeral pyre; my friends were just waiting for me to gasp out my last.

Well, things do not always go the way you planned. I am a Viking that was turned vampire.

Honestly, I did not see that coming.

You might think that is the best of both worlds…one of the greatest warriors to walk the earth…and as a vampire, walk it forever.

Let me tell you something, forever is a mighty long time.

Those humans that are wanna-be vampires call us Immortal. The rest of the world knows there is no such thing as an Immortal.   All things die.  Or fade or wish themselves into nothingness.

Insanity works as well.

The first hundred years or so I was vampire,  I was insane; well according to Albert Einstein’s definition. I was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  When you are vampire there are no different results, just the passing of time and surviving.

And with the insane teaching of my maker, Godric, who meant well, but he was old when he turned me and had gone back to be something of an outraged animal himself, I survived very well.

At the time I was grateful to my maker but we had our cultural differences…

I was not content to sleep in the dirt like many of my comrades, to include my maker, because when I slept in the dirt, I dreamed of a stone circle and of the hymen blood of many virgins that stained its altar. It was a magnificent  dream for one so young and foolish as myself!

But I could not embrace the sublime while resting in the muck. For as a Viking race, we are very clean and the mud is impossible to wash out of my braids. And under my nails. There are those vamps that proudly leave blood under their nails. Barbarians!

And most of my fanged brethren think they are superior to all forms of faiths and creeds…at which I boldly roll my eyes at them because there is the matter of stone circles of which I am well acquainted….

My grandmother told me that stone circles are places of power. Some of it unspeakable. And to take an offering that is left there is to call down the anger of the gods that guard it. So perhaps that was another reason I did not wish this dream…but all the way down to my dick, I wanted a virgin on the altar stone in a stone henge. As a young vampire, I was always thinking with my little head.

“Hey you big oaf,” was yelled from his crotch. “Do not be pushing your stupidity off onto me! It is a good thing I am the brains of this outfit, or we would have been finally dead ages ago!”

For a moment I thought about whacking King Eric but what purpose would it serve?

Where was I, oh yes…

But insanity does not stop the young and foolish. Does not even count as an excuse.

In my first 100 young years as vampire, I was a blight  upon the earth. When the flowers grew a carpet of blue and the blood moon rose in the sky I would stare at this magnificent representative of who I am.

Centuries ago, along with my maker, I reigned supreme. For the first one hundred years, I was unstoppable! And I fucked and I killed.  And my name spread and with it came tribute, blood whores and those that wished to just admire me.  And truthfully, I was a lot to admire.  Robust, ruthless and renegade.  I bowed to no one and I took what I wanted.  The old vampire crown of the East thought to trap me in the daylight. I ate him and his many wives for breakfast before I retired to my day rest.  When they sent Weres after me, I skinned them alive and wore them for clothing.

Until in the year 1112…and then I was renegade no longer…because of my strength and the fierceness, I was crowned Sovereign de Vampyrand I was to rule my fanged brethren, forever! And in the deep recesses of my ego enflamed mind, I knew I could and I would and I should reign forever.  For I was supreme and my brethren, they did not want me to stop.  They told me to glory in my vampyrism and to incite them to do likewise.  They rallied to me and we bathed in the blood of the moon and humans.

Yes, oh so young and oh so foolish. Even I roll my eyes when I think back on those days.

And the seasons passed…spring, summer…and in the blackness of my soul, I watched for each leaf of autumn to wither and die and blow away. Leaving a bare, bleak, landscape. For winter was coming with its heavy snows and long dark hours that I could walk the earth! And I did!

Then all hail the ending of winter darkness and the coming of bloom filled nights of spring!  And welcome the blue flowers that perfume our nostrils in the night air and we gather to hiss at the blood moon that weeps great tears for with the tenderness of the first greenery,  it is The Time of the Feastand humans trembled with fear.  And wept and cried and pleaded for mercy!  But there would be no mercy.  For when the flowers bloomed blue and the night was pregnant with their sweet aroma, it meant that winter had passed and it was time to savor the sweetest of meat.

For humans, in their infinite wisdom, during the roar of snow and wind, locked their doors and when the light burned out, slipped beneath the covers and let their  baser instincts take over.  The need to procreate.  And they would sweat and groan and grunt and find release, until the male’s seed took and then sorrow filled the house.

For when the blue flowers bloomed, there would be one or two whose bellies would be swollen and they were left naked, chained to the outside of their stone circle.  And my pleasure I did take.

Sometimes the offerings were inferior, and I left them. You do not needlessly keepcattlefrom breeding.

And those I found worthy, I feasted on the full bellied until the babe was born! Then both child and mother became a part of my household. It was, indeed, good to be king…and I was very good at being king.

I was a handsome monster and a charming rouge that killed for sport and pleasure.  Until the night of the silver harvest moon in the year 1112…I was running my meal to ground that evening, one of my slaves having escaped.   This one that I terrorized, I knew her. I had known her mother when her belly carried this daughter and gave her life.

She was small but a fighter and a screamer and had broken off a branch that she would threaten me with each time she heard me rustle the leaves in the dark of the moon.

The fun was in the chase! And as calloused as I was, I was a bit surprised and somewhat excited she had challenged me.

As I approached her, I stopped. For there in the moonlight, you could see them, the rocks shining like teeth that the earth had grown.

This henge was small.  The stones small enough for her to carry and unless you were looking, and I was.  For the henge was not noticeable.

Note to self:  When the slaves come out to forage, they are to be watched at all times.

 I briefly wondered how long it had taken her to build this magic circle.

Not that it mattered now, I found myself amused.

She had taken Sanctuary inside the henge that she had built. And I was very sure she had pledged herself to each stone.

I admired her spirit greatly at that moment. Who knew how long she had labored at this circle and planned her escape? But there she sat, in the middle of it. And I bet myself that her ass was planted firmly on top of some type of altar stone. She just struck me as the type to be exact.

I enjoyed watching her and thinking about what I would do next to alarm her into screaming fits that I knew would dissolve into crying when she realized that all was lost. Oh for the long nights of winter! What a prize I had been given! I was going to have a virgin on top of an altar stone!

The clouds had been playing chase with the moon all evening, like a fox smiling at a rabbit, and now the moon was gone and the darkness was my friend and the woman’s enemy.  I did not laugh when the wolves began to howl and she sat crying, beating the stick on the ground, daring me to come and get her.

Well, who I was to disappoint and not fulfill her wish! The problem with small stones in a henge is that they can be kicked aside. Which I did.

And the magic begins to leak out.  Which it did!

I walked the stream of dissipating enchantment into the center and I could taste the stones once more, just becoming rocks from the earth.

I remember laughing as I hauled her up off the ground by the scruff of her neck.

That perhaps was a mistake.  I had forgotten about the stick she held in her hand.  She apparently had not.

Thrusting it up into my chest, I felt it hit my heart and I fell to the ground with a great and resounding thud.

Fucker,“ she hissed. “Meet the sun and die.”

The moon once more blessed this human spirit with its light and she stomped on my head with her wooden shoes before she left me…well yes, a head bloody sacrifice on an altar stone after all.

I did not move for fear of pressing the wood into my undead heart. I could feel the sun sending its warmth into the pre-dawn air.  And in the distance, I heard the sound of my child, calling for me. Frantic, terror in his voice!

Finding me, gently he cradled me and was weeping as he carried me back.

“How is it he is not dead,” they whispered as Rolf carried me into my home.

“What can we do to save him?” my child cried and pleaded.

“Cut it off and leave part of it in my chest,” I gasped. “Quickly child, before you and I sleep and I never wake, again.”

And so it was.  When I woke that new dark, my wound was healed, but I could feel the cleanness of the wood and the truth that was the tree.  Slipping from my chamber, I went to the creek and washed away the old that I had reveled in and looked down and saw my reflection in the moonlight, the Viking that I had been. My grandmother’s favorite. The one she had given the women’s magic, too.

I had no taste for blood or for killing or for fucking.  I felt human once more in a vampire’s body. To this day, I know it was the stone circle that had tasted my blood and had its way with me.

And when my child found me, he knew that I was no longer the scourge that had made him and he had no love for me.

“Abomination! Abomination! Abomination!” he kept screaming until vampyr found us and I feared for my life and ran…and ran…and ran…until I met my Brother Samuel who had the skill and the love to remove the wood from my chest.

And so I still wander the earth.  On silent, moonlit, star-filled nights, my first child’s screams still echo in my ears.

And the little blonde that staked me, she had courage and strength to build her circle where she knew she could defeat me if the gods willed it.

 I wish she had fucked my brains out, there on the altar stone, instead of beating them out with her wooden shoes.

But no such luck…

Here I am a thousand years later and still think like the young and foolish. By the gods, I would love a virgin on a stone altar, licking her virginial blood from her body and the rock, alike.  To ride her inside a henge while she screams my name as the orgasm overtakes her and I spew out my essence inside of her under a Blood Moon!

Damn the coming of this Blood Moon!

Not that it matters, I am a Viking and I keep the promise of my family.

Cheating the lights rays as the moon sets and once more I see the bridge to Valhalla blaze across the night sky. The drakbåt, sails…so I have my sign. With the eclipse of the Blood Moon comes the battle. The promise to my ancestor will be upheld.

There is no such thing as an Immortal. We all have an expiration date.

But before I was a vampire I was a Viking warrior. And I still am. Time to sharpen my sword and keep the promise of my family. To kill this one that would take free will and enslave us all. And to keep contained the evil that travels with him.  And perhaps this time we shall defeat it, so that my family can take the drakbåt to Valhalla and feast in its great hall.

Or not…because I will be fighting in a stone circle. And my experience to this date with them has not been a  pleasant one.