Karma is nature’s justice. It’s a way of restoring order. You get back what you put in. You reap what you sow. What goes around, comes around. I keep it in the forefront of my mind with a simple and rather un-poetic saying ”Life is like a jar of jalapenos; what you eat today will burn you in the backside tomorrow.”
I recited the 23rd Psalm over and over as I felt scorching breath singe the hairs on the back of my neck. My knees literally started to knock together and fear rolled through my body like a wave.
“Lord, if you just get me out of this mess . . .” I prayed. I needed some Jesus in the worst way. I needed to get back to my roots. Without God, my weekdays had turned to: Sinday, Mournday, Tearsday, Wasteday, Thirstday, Fightday and Shatterday. I apologized to God for everything that I had ever done in life because I had made up in my mind that I didn’t want to die today.
Suddenly, the temperature plummeted with an arctic blast that I felt all the way down to my bones. I began to quake, both from cold and from fear. The silhouette of a monstrous figure ghosted along the wall in front of me and raised its massive arms to attack. Terror (of the lose control of your bodily functions kind) would not allow me to turn around. My feet were glued to the floor. I imagined that it was a mammoth creature spawn from the very depths of hell with sharp teeth as long as my forearm and dripping with saliva. No doubt it had the blade-like talons of a predator and reptilian skin rippling over hulking muscles.
The furniture, dishes, floors and the walls were all stark white in the opulent manse. Ornate balustrades lined staircases of grandeur from either side of the room and joined on a landing that flowed into the center of the dining room where the creature feature played out in horrific detail. A floral arrangement, with colorful plumage sprouted out of a fancy vase. It sat atop a wide marble pedestal decorating the landing. The crystal chandelier, affixed to the high ceiling, cast off rainbow hues like precious jewels. The walls were covered with priceless art work in gilded frames, illuminated by bronze sconces. The Carmichaels were definitely living high on the hog. I remember thinking that my blood splatter was going to ruin all of it.
In the midst of my panic, I heard the sorcerer’s song lilt over the loud thumping of my heart. I wasn't sure if it was audible to everyone in the room but I could feel it take hold, diffusing the mayhem with an authoritative grip. The thick distinctive aroma of magic saturated the air. CJ glanced to Marley who had just entered the room. Tyrese Marley was Copley’s driver and personal bodyguard. The young man visually assessed the situation, raising an inquisitive brow that quickly morphed to down-right pissed. He was none too happy that we had brought trouble to the Carmichael doorstep and smirked disapprovingly at CJ and me. He then gave a minuscule nod and quickly exited the room.
After I promised God that I would go to church more, and pray more and do good deeds, (I may have promised him my first born) I spun around and crouched in defense. An unearthly light flashed, robbing me of sight for several, heart wrenching seconds. I heard a thunderous clatter before I was able to focus. My eyes searched with eagerness as the room became very quiet.
Copley’s sweat soaked body collapsed back in an over sized French provincial chair. I gaped at the sight. His blue eyes sparkled like glitter and his face was flushed. He was clearly using everything he had to suppress another outburst. I was using everything that I had to suppress the urge to get the h-e-double hockey sticks out of there. The song had soothed the savage beast but he wasn’t happy about it. Like the Stay Away enchantment that I had encountered in the past, this was willing all in the vicinity to "chillax," stay calm and stay put. Copley was fighting the command and his chest rose and fell as he snarled, heaved and panted. I bet if he spit, it would have been fire. The dress shirt, once crisply starched, was now minus all of its buttons and was soaked with perspiration.
My fears suddenly dissipated when my eyes were drawn to the oozing crimson tide like a beacon in the night and I cried out “CJ!” It flowed from Copley’s arm like water slowly trickling from a faucet but in my mind it gushed like a geyser. There was a deep gash in his forearm. Broken dishes and food littered the floor. Marley burst into the room with a contraption that had a face mask attached. Within a matter of seconds, CJ was strapping it around his father’s mouth and nose.
Copley inhaled deeply again and again. It took some time but Mr. Carmichael finally relaxed, revealing the harmless looking man that I’d met at my house when he’d come to check on Amelia. He wasn’t very tall, and he had short thick gray hair that was dense and smooth. The expert cut held its shape through the madness, not one hair out of place. His lips were really thin, almost non-existent. He held them shut tightly like a trap as he grimaced in pain. He was darkly tanned and I absently wondered whether he'd been vacationing on a tropical isle recently, went to a tanning salon or maybe he had a tanning bed onsite. It was most likely the latter. I just couldn't imagine him going to a public place like my local Peck's Bunch-o-Flicks/Tan-a-lot, which had bronzed every inch of Sookie Stackhouse, in the past.
Marley began to shout orders to the servants who scattered into action. The bodyguard looked the part, towering over most and wide like a line-backer. He was a very light-skinned African-American. His skin was more the color of old ivory. His eyes were bright hazel. Though his hair was black, it wasn’t curly, and it had a red cast. The handsome Marley was definitely worth a second glance, and a third.
I had nearly forgotten about Copley’s injury when a metallic sweetness assaulted my senses. My head was whirling and my vision blurred. Copley closed his eyes and rested his head back on the chair, his blood, pooling and soaking into the plush, white carpet underneath him. My knees buckled and my body drew close to the wound like a magnet. I grabbed linen napkins from the table pretending to aid him.
Chaos was all around and within. I needed to go. I had to stay. I sat before a banquet table cluttered with food and drink, yet I was famished and parched, beyond belief. Both of our hands were shaking when I cupped Copley’s arm to inspect the damage. The ghastly wound was disgusting and delicious. The nauseating smell intoxicated. The thick, dark liquid immeasurably beautiful as its warmth flowed into my hand and spilled over to the floor.
CJ didn’t notice that my eyes were beginning to glaze over when he knelt down beside me to take over the first aid. I jerked to my feet, disguising my desperation to lap at the wound, which would guarantee me a stake through the heart. I soon discovered that moving fast was a bad I idea, and I fought the urge to throw-up. The contents of my stomach churned and I doubled over in pain.
“Cuppy is well,” CJ said to the room. His father’s eyelids fluttered in relief. “Pops . . . It’s my bad.” He was pleading for a word of forgiveness from his father that didn’t come. He was not likely to forgive himself either.
My mouth watered and I actually began to drool. I pulled the bottom of my shirt to dab at the liquid. Quick as a wink, my throat became desert dry. My trembling hand reached for a goblet of water that I guzzled with a fierce need and then I gagged. The crystal glass fell from my hands, hitting the carpet with a light thump.
“She and Jason are held up at your house, riding out the storm.” CJ continued talking, completely oblivious to my dilemma. His mind was immersed in trying to fix, manage and control the hellacious fiasco. I was having an internal debate of whether to wash my hands or find a corner and lick them clean. I brought my bloodied hand up to my face and inhaled. The call to consume was a feral command, primitive and undeniable. With some privacy, I could take my time and savor every . . .
“I meant to stop the storm but forgot about it when you and the dead guy did the slit, drip and drain routine.” CJ’s words and sound of regret broke my trance. He would never forgive himself for leaving me with Bill. He went on talking and patching his father’s wound. CJ talked a lot when he was nervous or upset and now he was spilling all the beans in a constant flow.
With the speed of a turtle, I made my way across the large space that seemed to be the size of a football field and I was only on the fifty yard line. I wondered if the walls were moving on his side of the room. My feet felt like lead. The further I stepped away from the bleeding Copley, the harder it was to move and the more demanding my thirst. I would die if I didn’t alleviate the hunger pangs that were burning a hole in my gut. Feeding from Eric and feeding Bill within 24 hours of each other was a decision that I would come to lament for a long time, I was sure.
How many times had my fairy godmother told me that I was being marked as one of theirs? Is this what Terry meant when he said “If you lay down with dogs, you wake up with puppies?” That wasn’t about the Weres and Shifters. It meant that I wouldn’t be able to rendezvous with vampires without becoming one of their offspring.
“Princess . . .” CJ paused for my attention “. . . Princess,” I halted, “there is a bit of bad news.” He sighed deeply and paused bandaging for a moment. “Arlene and Whit were found near your home.” That news really didn’t surprise me since they had vowed to make my life a living hell. They were bound to come by and harass me. “Cuppy said to make sure that I tell you that she is so sorry.”
I mumbled something and resumed my pace, refusing to give a sh*t about my crazy ex bff or her fanatic bf. The fight to resist the call of becoming a mindless minion took precedence. CJ whispered a healing chant over his father and I knew that the gash was mending before he finished.
“She didn’t want to be the one to tell you the bad news,” he added. I cupped the bloodied hand over my nose and inhaled deeply one last time. It was simply irresistible and my tongue leaped out like a lizard’s. I just needed a taste, all else was like water for chocolate. “She said to tell you that they were found dead at the foot of your grandmother’s garden.”
I’d finally decided to go to the bathroom to wash the blood from my hands. I would not be feeding this demon. Sookie Stackhouse is no vampire. I was not enticed by blood. I would not be like my cousin, Hadley. Who would be next? Jason? Hadley’s son, Hunter? I had completely gathered my resolve when the room began to tilt. At first I though it was because of all of the excitement. The news about Arlene and Whit took a few moments to register and that was enough to send me into shock. Maybe it was just the sight of all that blood or my dazed and confused reaction to it. In the end, I was convinced that what really made me measure the floor was the sensation of my elongating, sharp canines impaling my own tongue.
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XXX
The remainder of the night was a blur. I recall CJ carrying me to the bathroom. I wasn’t sure if he bathed me or just washed my face and hands. I do remember him helping me into one of his nightshirts. He managed to protect my lady parts from his sight (God bless him) with the chivalry of a true southern gentleman.
I was in a bad way. I didn’t want to bite him but I found it nearly impossible to fight the feeling. The gnawing in my gut demanded that I have a taste. A peaceful chant saturated the air on a whisper and my body stilled on a plush feather bed. He lowered his almond shaped eyelids to shield me from the eerily bright amber glow. His face was so close that I could feel his breath, the smell of sweet cookies wasping over my face. The last thing I remember is CJ pressing his warm, no, his hot lips to my frontal lobe, light as a butterfly. . . Sookie out!
I was dead to the world. My next awareness found me being ushered up to consciousness by an unwavering force. My head was cloudy like I had been drugged. I heard singing in the dense fog. CJ even sang in his sleep, I thought. It was the softest of whispers of what I thought was maybe Latin. Only a few words of the sonnet lingered with me when I awoke; sogno, bella, amore, mina. Pulling from my novella bank of knowledge (of which I had far too much) amore is love and bella is beautiful . . . I blindly reached out to pat him in appreciation for the sweet lullaby that accompanied my rest. Freeing my hands was quite and accomplishment since the covers was bound around me like a straight jacket.
My hand landed on feverishly warm, six-pack in da coola. I need to pray, I thought as impure images rolled through my mind. I forced my hand to still and not caress flesh that beckoned for my touch (or maybe I was doing the beckoning). The comforting aromas of scented candles, the warmth and CJ’s presence gave me a sense of peace and security that I hadn’t known . . . well . . . ever. To have peace and feel safe was indeed precious and made me feel like we were constantly inside of that protective bubble, imprisoning the unpleasant reality of things like; eternal darkness, blood lust and the feral hunt.
CJ, however, had not slept. He had no peace. I could feel his thoughts warring behind a paper thin barrier, ready to burst forth. I was having trouble keeping up my shields and the music had completely stopped. He needed his own CJ and I wished that I could return the favor.
I had a feeling that CJ had never made a wrong turn in his life. He was always able to deal with whatever life had thrown, until he met the walking and talking epic blunder called Sookie Stackhouse. I needed to take control of my life before CJ ended up like Tray.
“It’s time for me to watch over you while you sleep,” I said, looking at him through hooded lids. I rubbed my hand over his torso in a comforting gesture. He closed his tired eyes and remained motionless for a time. I don’t even think he was breathing. Finally, the muscles in his jaw line twitched and he let out a low hiss. His warm hand embraced mine and pulled upward, which was definitely a safer region.
Golden eyes looked on me with sadness at first, and then relief. “Welcome back, Princess,” he greeted and kissed my palm before leaving. I only saw the back of him as he sauntered across the room with a cool swagger. Exemplary of strict self discipline, his hard body looked powerful in motion. Light linen sleep pants clung gingerly at his neat waist as if they were about to fall off with the next movement. His hard buns looked like two cats fighting in a gunny sack. Tribal art peeked through the thin dread locks that swayed in the middle of his back. Magic, a dense, sizzling fog, dissipated into a mist when he left.
I guessed that I was in CJ’s room or maybe a guest room. A brass crown protruded from the wall, draping dark blue velvet at the head of the bed that was adorned with matching bedding. The lines of the décor were straight, clean and masculine. No French curly stuff anywhere, I noted looking up at the high beam ceiling. I nearly broke my neck trying to get down from the elevated platform. That first step is a doozy.
I ran my tongue over my teeth as I brushed them. I was not brave enough to look but they felt pretty normal and most importantly, un-carnivorous. The wounds on my wrist had healed, I noticed during my shower. The water flowed from directly overhead like rain in a stall, built to host a small gathering. On the insides of both of my wrists were faint, pink etchings. I couldn’t really make out what they were exactly. The swirls were pretty, starting dark near my hand and fading up my arms.
The marking was so faint, iridescent almost and it shimmered when touched. It reminded me of a hologram. “That’s the magic,” he told me later, tracing the outline and following the light. “The rest is blood.”
I wondered what had been done to me while I slept. Whatever was necessary, I answered my own question.
“Wards of protection,” he told me on our morning walk. “I needed something to pass the time while you slept: three days, six hours, twelve minutes and nine seconds.”
The scenic trails behind the house, sprawling with indigenous wild life in the nearby bayou, were breathtaking. He avoided looking at me and skipped pebbles on the water. Oak trees were plentiful and Spanish moss dripped in the picturesque scenery. The morning sun reflected off of the water in an array of brilliant colors. It was a peaceful, serene and safe oasis and we sat on a nearby bench to enjoy the view.
“It’s pretty,” I said in appreciation of my new body art. I turned my arm to and fro to catch the light just right.
“It’s forbidden1” shot back to me from his thoughts. I don’t think he meant for me to hear that or if he knew that I heard it. It put a lump in my throat but I refused to panic.
“It’s me CJ. I’m the queen of weird and unusual,” I told him when I sensed that he was holding back. I knelt in front of him and held his hands. My skin tingled on contact and he closed his eyes. He had been acting distant every since I woke.
“You tell me if you can put into words, what transpired while you slept.” I tipped around the edges of his exposed mind that vibrated with energy. I was so very tempted to accept his invitation when I felt his shields drop. His mind was open and pulling me in welcome but I resisted and retreated in fear. The memory of fangs extending filled me with dread. I wasn’t ready to face the monstrous Drakule residing within me. I’d have to pass on a visual that would, no doubt, haunt me for all eternity. I still had a heartbeat, the sun did not burn me, my tan was holding up and CJ had not staked me. All were confirmations that even if I perished in my slumber, I had been restored.
“How ‘bout you tell me something good instead.” I turned to sit on the grass in front of the bench and he joined me. “Lie if you have to.” My arm circled his and I put my head on his boulder of a shoulder. I held my breath in anticipation. I didn’t know what he was going to tell me but whatever it was, it was right on the tip of his tongue. He took a long breath and then his somber expression quickly changed to a mischievous grin. He moved toward me, faster than my eyes could track, threw an arm around me and we disappeared.
We re-emerged near a private dock and took a ride on the Karma. Karma was CJ’s favorite water toy and we ripped through the wetlands at record speeds. I felt every muscle of his massive frame bunch and flex as the powerful machine skidded across the marsh. It jerked and bucked underneath our straddled bodies like a wild beast. The roar of the engine rattled me at first but then brewed to a hypnotic hum and my body relaxed. “That’s it.” His voice reverberated through his chest and rumbled in my ear that rested on his back. “I got you,” he purred.
We both knew that I owed CJ my life but we would never speak of it. To admit that would mean acknowledging that the worst had indeed happened. Not only did he fail to stake the monster as it reared its head, he pulled me from its belly. We would also have to address the forbidden blood that tatted up my arms. We rode for a long time in silence, releasing our deep dark secret to the depths of the swamp. I went a step further and let the murky water have poor Sookie, victim of circumstance, as well. I had a new lease on life and I was not going to waste it.
We paused in the middle of the water to watch the sunset. The noise of the engine abruptly cut-off and was quickly replaced by the chorus of chirping crickets and croaking frogs. Calmness spread through the agitated water and we slowed to a gentle rocking motion. The sky glowed blue, orange and gold. A sweet melody seized my heart and tears welled at the pure majesty of nature’s bounty and my good fortune.
“Once upon a time there was a beautiful fairy princess.” I couldn’t see his face but I could hear the smile in his words. I listened close and nestled closer. “There was an evil plot to destroy the beautiful one by tricking her into viewing her gift as a curse.” His voice was light as a feather. He obliterated my shields to force the words to resonate and inundate my inner most thoughts. “One day she decided to accept her gift and use her powers only for good. She embraced her telepathy which was only the tip of the clairvoyant iceberg. She stopped cowering in corners and holding her ears hoping the voices would cease.” His tone suddenly grew serious. Warm hands pulled my arms around him tight. “She rejected the shame and ridicule that plagued her. No more beatings and torture and being used and abused. She took her rightful place in the royal courtyard of the most high supernatural beings, as the true great granddaughter of the only living Fae Prince.” He silenced his melodic voice and spoke to my mind. “She did not die!” He bit the last words out like an edict that must be obeyed, a prophesy that I received whole heartedly. “She lived happily ever after.” The roar of the engine offered a rumbling benediction as it echoed on the cool night breeze of the Big Easy.
