Headnote: This is the third outtake for From the Inside Out. It is from Warlow’s POV and should be read after chapter 20 of From the Inside Out; it begins with flashbacks, tracing Warlow’s involvement with the Stackhouse family. The show deals with the story of Sookie’s ancestry in very odd ways. John William Stackhouse—the signer of the contract giving Sookie to Warlow—was apparently Niall’s son, but—according to the show—the contract was signed in 1702. Now, I know that fairies live for a long time, but—if Sookie is 1/8 fairy (as she is in the books)—then John cannot be her grandfather because we know that “Earl” was (unless Earl was also John? But that’s not logical). So we don’t know who “John William” was to Earl. We DO know there was at least a Jonas in between John William and Earl (because it is mentioned that he was the one to build the Stackhouse homestead). Plus, no mention is made of Stackhouses living unreasonably long lives. Thinking about all this just reminds me of how inconsistent the show could be. So if John was at least 2 generations removed from Earl, which seems unreasonably few (given the 1702 date), then Sookie is only 1/32 fairy—which seems too far removed to me. Anyway, I’ve decided to alter some things about the show’s narrative in order to make the story make slightly more sense—according to “Kat logic.” I’m having John William Stackhouse be born in the 1840s for a couple of reasons (one being a little “inside joke” at Bill’s expense). Also, I’m showing that Warlow was involved in the Stackhouses’ lives (and loves) from early on, making sure that the fairy blood wasn’t diluted too much. Thus, Sookie IS still 1/8 fairy in the show, but not all of her fairy blood is from Niall. I also HATED the idea that Sookie’s parents had tried to kill her, which was shoved down our throats (out of left field) in Season 6. So I am ignoring that idiocy. To me, it was a cheap way to prop up Warlow so that Sookie wouldn’t look like a complete moron for having sex with him, an act that seemed utterly ridiculous (again out of left field), by the way. (I blame poor writing in Season 6, which could have been really interesting, given the Vamp Camp possibilities. But In S6, the writers had clearly decided that Eric and Sookie would be kept apart at all costs, and that caused the show to seem fragmented and ruptured and random to me.) Anyway, I hope that you will indulge me as I change some show facts and adapt others in the “Kat logic” way. 😉
Flashback: 1845, Northern Louisiana
I watched Niall as he watched the beautiful young woman wipe her brow as she worked in a lovely garden of roses. The woman’s much older husband had chastised her for doing the “slaves’ work” before he’d ridden out to the cotton field on the estate to make sure “his” people weren’t slacking again.
I scoffed. Of all the human institutions I’d seen throughout my very long life, slavery was the worst. Oh—I knew that fairies were guilty of it too; that was one of the reasons why my family had come to the human realm when Niall’s grandfather, Cian, had led us from Faerie. Braden had already been using the Earth Fae as his slaves by then—simply because the Earth Fae’s magic was slightly less powerful than others’, and they could be exploited.
I shook my head. Power was such an odd commodity. The white slave owners of the Southern United States maintained power by instilling fear into the larger black population. They used the threat of guns and whips to make those who would have questioned their authority stay in line. And they used the concept of tradition too. Many of the “workers” on the Stackhouse plantation had been born into slavery—conditioned to believe that they were somehow lesser because of the color of their skin.
Similar things had been used against the Earth Fae too: the threat of stronger magic by the Water Fae and the “idea” that they “should” be slaves had kept most of them from rebelling in the land that I’d been born in.
I scoffed again, though quietly—of course. And then I watched as Niall carefully approached the young woman as soon as the coast was clear.
Niall had been hunting me for many, many years. But he had lost track of me for the time being. Of course, he had no idea that I was the hunter on this particular occasion. In fact, I’d been keeping an eye on him for months, but always during the daytime—when he would not suspect me of being there.
I smiled to myself. Niall saw me as his arch enemy. But I’d come to see him as my salvation. And I wondered if the pretty woman he called Kate would be the vessel. Oh—Niall had had Fae children, but I had become certain that a part human mate would be best.
She’d be more pliant—easier to control. And my glamour might even work on her. On the other hand, I would likely always have problems in dealing with a trained fairy.
I tilted my head so that I could get a better look at Niall and his current paramour as they scurried into a secluded part of the garden. The woman he called Kate was beautiful—both on the inside and out. Unlike the others on the property, she treated everyone—whites and blacks—with equal kindness and respect, not looking down upon the people who labored for nothing beyond the bad treatment of her in-laws.
How Kate had come to be married to “Master Owen Stackhouse” was a story she’d told Niall during one of their first meetings. Kate’s father had owed Stackhouse a large debt, and Owen could very well have taken away all that the man had. However, Stackhouse had taken a liking to Kate, and he’d forgiven the debt in exchange for her hand in marriage. The obedient daughter had done as her father had bid, though I’d overheard gossip from some of the slaves that the “master” was now becoming impatient for children. Of course, I was quite aware that Stackhouse couldn’t father children at the moment. I’d been responsible for the spell that prohibited his seed from taking root inside of a woman.
I didn’t want Niall’s seed to have competition, after all.
Niall had certainly not been a monk throughout the years—despite his quest to hunt me down. Indeed, since I’d begun taking advantage of opportunities to turn the tables on him by becoming his occasional hunter a few centuries before, I’d known him to have several human lovers; he’d even produced two children with one of them, but the mother had died in childbirth. So Niall had taken his twin sons to Faerie—where he had trained them to master their fairy powers.
I was hopeful that—this time—Niall’s mistress might bear his child and live through the process. I didn’t see Niall taking a child from its mother, especially not from a human he was so obviously fond of. Plus, I intended to distract Niall away from the young woman if she did conceive.
I stopped watching the couple when the words between them stopped and the intercourse began. Instead, I kept watch over the area so that the two wouldn’t be hindered.
Of course, I inhibited my own scent, a power that had carried over with me from my fairy life, though I was unable to maintain the gift for longer than a few hours at a time. Still—it would be enough time to guard my “enemy” and then check on his beloved. Thousands of years of life had made my own sense of smell so keen that I knew I would be able to determine whether Niall had impregnated Kate long before the fairy could.
And—if she was pregnant this time—I would place myself into Claudine’s path. Niall’s granddaughter, Claudine, had—on occasion—attempted to help Niall hunt me. I knew that, if I let her spot me, Niall would come for me immediately, leaving his lovely Kate all alone.
I noticed the sound of someone approaching well before the individual was upon my position. I rolled my eyes as I recognized the individual—a ten-year-old peeping Tom who was always trying to spy on the lovely Kate.
“William Compton,” I grinned as I zipped in front of the boy. I’d thought about draining him before. But a missing boy might draw unwanted attention. Instead, I simply glamoured him and had a small meal while I waited for Niall to finish with his Kate.
1875, Northern Louisiana
I watched the sad domestic scene from a nearby tree branch. I knew that I would soon be able to strike—to make the deal that would one day gain me my bride.
“You are special,” Kate Stackhouse said weakly to her son, John.
In truth, I was well aware that John already knew of his “uniqueness.” I’d made sure of it.
It wasn’t that John was arrogant. No—the thirty-year-old man was humble. He spent most of his time simply trying to raise enough crops to keep his family nourished and their home from being collected by corrupt bankers as carpetbaggers and sharecroppers moved his world around.
I knew enough about Niall’s son to know that he’d lost three uncles during the Civil War, and his bastard of a “father”—Owen—had sent him off to fight when he was only fifteen years old. But John had lived through almost three years of war, while his “father” had died of pneumonia two years before John had returned home.
Now, more than ten years later, John was clearly proud that he’d been able to hold onto the family property. Many of the once-slaves had stayed on following Owen’s death—first to help look after the benevolent Kate and then because John had given them parcels of Stackhouse land to own for themselves. Now—they all worked the land together. And, though Owen was likely spinning daily in his grave, John obviously didn’t care.
I couldn’t blame him.
As far as I had been able to tell during my sporadic and secret visits, John had never received much beyond cruelty from the old bastard—and, worse, his mother had been treated with coldness. It was safe to say that John Stackhouse hated his father.
Not that Owen Stackhouse was truly John’s father.
Niall was—though the fairy had no idea of his son’s existence.
Thanks to me.
I smiled with satisfaction.
Five years before, John had met a woman—the woman who was to become his wife. John had met the beautiful Ethaline at a church social. She had been a nanny in the Bellefleur family.
John had fallen in love with her immediately.
Of course, it had been I who had arranged for Ethaline to have work in the area. She was an unwitting accomplice to me.
After I was certain that Niall had impregnated young Kate thirty years before, I’d drawn out Niall. The fairy had almost gotten the best of me a time or two since then, but—eventually—I’d maneuvered him into a trap, and now he was stuck in the Fae realm.
I smiled to myself as I looked at the death-bed scene through the window. Indeed, my spell upon Niall had been inspired. Given the current time differentials between the fairy world and the human one, I chastised myself for not thinking of the scheme centuries before. Niall would be able to get himself out of Faerie within a “day,” but—by then—it would be a century from now. Maybe a bit more.
Well too late for Niall to find and train his half-fairy son.
The quarter fairy, Ethaline, reached out for her husband’s hand. I smirked. She truly had no idea of her part in my larger plan. I’d met Ethaline in New Orleans, struggling to understand or control the telepathy that had nearly driven her to insanity. I had “helped” her with it. And then I had helped her gain employment.
Employment near the residence of John Stackhouse.
John had not “suffered” from telepathy, but he had likely always “felt” different. Sensing the same in Ethaline, John had been easily enamored. And, acting on my counsel as her guardian, Ethaline had told John of her own fairy nature—and his own—before they’d wed.
Ethaline had also taught John to bring forth a pale white light from his hands, and—with her own magic—she had helped the land to be fertile. However, the fertility hadn’t extended to Ethaline herself.
The couple had tried for years to have children, but they’d failed.
Of course, they had no idea that Ethaline’s New Orleans “benefactor”—me—had everything to do with the infertility.
I watched as John tensed as his mother gasped out a shaky breath. The doctors didn’t know what disease was slowly taking her life, but Kate had become weaker and weaker over the last year. In my years, I’d seen similar cases, and I could smell the death about her.
I knew it wouldn’t be long before she was gone.
Ethaline had ahold of one of Kate’s hands, and John had ahold of the other.
The sight was almost touching to me.
Out of respect for his beloved nurturer, John had—thanks to “Ethaline’s” influence (and mine)—never asked his mother about how he was a fairy, but it seemed in that moment as if Kate could read his mind. I found that almost funny.
“I loved your real father, though our time with each other was too short,” Kate choked out. “His name was Niall Brigant.”
John clearly didn’t know that name; however, Ethaline did. No wonder—since I’d told her a little of him.
“He is a powerful fairy,” Ethaline told her husband. “A full-blooded Sky Fae—though he is known to be,” she paused, “eccentric.”
That was one word for it.
“He was beautiful—like you,” Kate smiled at her son, even as she sank into the delirium of near death. “I hated him for many years for disappearing without a word, but I have finally realized that his greatest gift to me has been you.”
She smiled at him.
“Mother,” John wept, even as she took her last breath.
I smiled to myself. It was time.
TWO DAYS LATER
The figure of John William Stackhouse was a stark one as I approached him. He was weeping openly over the newly turned earth covering the wooden box that held his dead mother.
Yes—my timing was perfect.
Ethaline had no idea why I was truly visiting; however, she had accepted without question that I’d traveled north from New Orleans to be with her and her husband during their time of grief.
John would soon learn of a different reason for my being there.
“Your wife worries for you,” I said by way of greeting the husband of my “ward.”
“I know,” John returned, looking up at me to smile a little. He was a Halfling, so to resist draining him dry, I had to concentrate on not inhaling his sweet scent. But—having honed my discipline over time—I refrained from enjoying the nectar in the air.
“I am here to offer you a consolation in your time of grief,” I told the Halfling.
“There can be no consolation,” John sniffled.
“Would a child not help to quell your grief?” I asked.
“A child?” John gasped, looking up at me from his kneeling position.
I nodded. “Yes. My beloved ward has told me that you two have tried for many years to have a child, and I have been working to find a way to help you do so.”
John stood up. “Have you found anything? My mother longed to have grandchildren,” he conveyed, as more tears dripped from his eyes, “and Ethaline and I have longed for that too.”
I let out a long, deliberate sigh so that I would seem more human. “I have learned that your trouble is within Ethaline herself.”
“Within her?” John asked, even as he closed his eyes.
“Yes. It is a problem shared by many fairy women. Some simply do not have the magic needed to produce a child.”
His eyes squeezed shut even further. “It is alright,” he said determinedly. “Ethaline is my beloved, and if we are met not to have children, so be it.”
“Magic can be supplied to help in such cases,” I said seductively.
“Magic?” he asked, his eyes popping open.
I nodded. “Yes. If you are willing to pay the price.”
I sighed as if saddened. “There is always a price for great magic, but I believe that I can mitigate that price.”
He looked at me in confusion.
“There is a witch in New Orleans who has a potion that will ensure that Ethaline can conceive a child.”
“Witch?” John asked with trepidation.
I nodded. “She requires my own blood for the transaction,” I stated. “And that is blood that I will willingly give for Ethaline and for you. But I . . . .” I stopped midsentence and looked down.
“But what?” John asked.
“Has Ethaline told you that my own lifespan will be very long?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes. She said that ours would be long too—unless we died of accidents.”
“That is true,” I said. Of course, I didn’t add that accidents could be easily arranged.
“But I am practically immortal,” I explained.
“Because you are a full-blooded fairy?” John asked.
“Yes,” I misled him. “And I am saddened that I will be bereft after you and Ethaline are gone.”
“But we may now have a child. Children!” he said excitedly.
“Yes,” I nodded. “You will. And I would ask for one of your descendant’s hands in marriage.”
“What?” he asked.
I smiled softly, as if I were asking for only a little thing. “I have looked at you and my ward, Ethaline—the love you so clearly share—for years now. And I want that kind of thing too.” I paused for a moment. “A family for a family. That is all I ask for.”
“But . . . .”
I interrupted him before his could protest. “I would never ask for such a thing; however, I have a friend who has the gift of foresight,” I lied.
“Foresight?” he asked.
“Yes. A rare fairy gift that allows one of our kind to see into the future,” I lied again.
“Yes. She has foreseen that your first Fae-bearing child and I will marry one day—as long as you ensure that today.”
I smiled at him. “A contract,” I relayed, pulling a roll of parchment from my jacket. “One day—when a female child able to bear Fae children is born from your line—I ask only that I have the honor of being her mate. And—for this—I will undergo the very painful process of giving the witch a great deal of my blood so that Ethaline and you can have a son.”
“A son?” he asked, looking at me wide-eyed.
“Yes. The seer has foreseen that you and my ward will have a healthy boy-child.”
Of course, I was lying. That they had a boy was a fifty-fifty chance, I supposed. But not even the magic I’d learned to wield over fertility could ensure a boy over a girl. However, if John felt somehow “disconnected” from the girl-child I wanted him to give me now, then that would only help my cause. And—once I had his signature—none of the lies I’d told would matter anyway.
“A son,” he smiled.
“Indeed,” I grinned back. “It will take me many years to recover from the witch’s blood-taking,” I lied. “But that is fine. I am patient. The happiness that the seer has told me of will be worth it.”
We were silent for a few minutes as he digested what I’d told him.
“Would you help Ethaline and me if I didn’t promise you the girl?” John finally asked.
I closed my eyes as if agonizing over a difficult choice. Of course, I’d anticipated his question.
I nodded. “Yes. I would do all I could for Ethaline to be happy, even if it costs me my own—and the happiness of your progeny.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
I shrugged. “The girl destined for me will make me very happy; it stands to reason that I would do the same for her. Correct?”
He looked somewhat befuddled.
“But she will never even exist if Ethaline doesn’t get her cure from the witch, and I would prefer that the girl would live one day no matter what. So—yes—I will arrange for the cure whether you sign this contract or not.”
“Why is a contract needed at all?” John asked. He was being more astute than I’d given him credit for.
“In the Supernatural world, such things are required,” I conveyed. “And, perhaps, it will be many, many generations before a Fae-bearing girl-child is born.”
John thought for several more silent moments. But, in truth, I already knew that I “had” him. Arranged marriages were the norm, rather than the exception. And John and Ethaline both had no reason to suspect me of any ill-will. Nor did I have any in actuality. In truth, I longed for a happy life with any female progeny of Niall’s—as long as she could also have my children.
My motives were pure, and John clearly saw that as he agreed. “Okay. What do I need to do?”
“It is simple,” I said with a soft, sincere smile that I truly felt. “We just both sign in blood, and then I will make sure that Ethaline is cured.” Of course, I didn’t tell him that it was my own magic that was stopping her from conceiving.
And he didn’t ask any more questions before producing a knife from his pocket and asking where he was to put his name.
Niall had become craftier during the past century. Rarely did I enjoy a year altogether when I didn’t have to evade his pursuit. Of course, part of this had to do with Claudine, who had become just as fanatic about catching me as her grandfather.
Much to my chagrin, she had also been tasked with protecting the Stackhouse family.
I growled. Niall hadn’t forgotten about Kate Stackhouse when he’d made his way back from Faerie almost a century after I’d put him there. No—indeed—he’d returned immediately to Northern Louisiana and grieved at her grave. And his blood had led him to his kin, a young man named Earl.
Niall and Claudine had both been periodic fixtures in the Stackhouses lives since then—at least checking in on them from afar. However, I’d managed to make sure that part fairies were periodically introduced into the Stackhouse family bloodline before Niall’s reappearance.
Amusingly, Niall and Claudine had been befuddled when they’d first “met” Earl Stackhouse, and they’d wondered how so many part fairies had stumbled upon the Stackhouses over the years, which was the only way to account for the still high level of fairy blood in Niall’s descendant. But they’d never had cause to suspect me.
Why would they?
And, still, I confounded their efforts to capture me, for they had no idea that I could roam freely during the day. Moreover, I had become a master of disguise over the years; thus, neither had a clear idea was what my true appearance was. Currently, I’d disguised myself as a bedraggled hobo with a long dirty beard rivalling any I’d seen in the economically depressed Southern United States. Unfortunately, hiding my scent had become no easier for me, however. Therefore, I could not operate with total anonymity. Both Niall and Claudine had tracked me within the recent months, though I’d managed to elude them and circle around to Louisiana where I had finally beheld my prize: the little blond girl with the sad brown eyes.
She was perfect.
But I was, perhaps, a bit overzealous to make her mine.
Part of me knew that I ought to have simply waited for her to reach maturity. Sadly, she grew up in the timeframe of a human—for she was not borne of a fairy mother. Otherwise, only a few days would have seen her reaching linhanpen. Seeing that at least one of her parents did not accept her and discovering that the girl’s telepathy seemed similar to Ethaline’s, I decided to approach the parents—offering first to take the child off their hands in order to teach her.
They refused me.
Then I offered to buy her.
Again, they refused.
Finally, I showed them the contract, which they tried to rip up—not that the magic inside of the document would have let them do that.
And then they insulted me, causing my fangs to be seen by them. During the daytime! And I couldn’t have that—now could I?
Inconveniently—for me—Corbett Stackhouse expelled me from his home; of course, he didn’t know that it was magic which caused my exit. He simply ordered me out—as he might order out anyone.
He even threatened me with a shotgun.
Of course, the two couldn’t order me out of the world.
I waited for them on the bridge they had to take to reach the town. Having determined that the girl would be “scarred” and, therefore, easier to handle if her telepathy was uncontrolled into adulthood as Ethaline’s had been, I was resolved to wait until the girl-child reached maturity before approaching her again. Thus, I was planning to simply glamour her parents to forget all about me. I knew that the mother could be glamoured, for she was all human. And—if the father couldn’t be—I’d just kill him.
As I saw their car, I hindered their path on the bridge.
I was on my way to glamour them when I was distracted by the scent of blood—intoxicating blood. The parents were dead within moments as the monster inside of me took reign. Part of me knew that they deserved it. After all, they were not worthy of the bearer of that blood!
Covered with gore, I took the little Band-Aid from the back seat of the car into my hand and inhaled its ambrosia deeply. It was the perfect mix of fairy and human: perfectly enticing and perfectly edible!
Though I knew that I could—would—somehow keep myself from killing the girl, I also knew that I would need time to train myself to do so.
I took the Band-Aid and put it into my pocket, determined to desensitize myself to its seductive forces so that I’d be just as ready for the girl when she grew up as she would be ready for me.
I was just determining what to do with the bodies of her parents and their car when an unwelcome figure appeared before me.
The little girl’s blood had distracted me to the point that I didn’t know that one of my pursuers had caught up with me!
Needless to say, I realized my folly quickly as her light and magic sent me into a realm that I immediately intuited would be difficult for me to claw my way out of.
But I would not give up!
It was extremely difficult for me to convey my rage in productive ways.
I’d uprooted a few trees.
I’d overturned a few cars.
I’d killed one or two people who’d had the misfortune of crossing my path.
I blamed the vampire for my actions.
Not the vampire in me. No. I knew that—when the world operated according to plan—I was fully in control of myself and my actions. I had spent thousands of years learning self-control and discipline—controlling the monster that Lilith had once made me to be.
Indeed, it was Eric Northman who had provoked my current state. He’d somehow managed to manipulate the female who was to be mine.
Sookie was what she called herself.
I’d been so fucking patient, waiting for John Stackhouse’s descendants to produce a Fae-bearing female. When possible, I’d even checked in on the family’s well-being, even introducing part-Fae females to Stackhouse men so that the Fae blood wouldn’t become too dilute in the line, for it seemed as if the Stackhouses would never make females!
The generation before had brought forth one female, a child named Linda. However, her spark lay dormant—useless!
The last time I’d made my way to check on the progress of the family had been almost two decades before. And—finally—there she had been!
A pretty little blond girl with big brown eyes—and a spark to match my own!
I had known that fate had finally smiled upon me. Oh—I could have taken another part-fairy during my many years of life. But I’d decided more than a millennium before that—in order to make up for my sins of the past—I needed my bride to be of Niall’s line. My beloved wife had been a cousin of the Brigant clan, and I felt in the very depths of my soul that I could recapture a little part of the life that the monster in me had once destroyed.
If only I could have a Fae-bearing female with ties to my long-forgotten village.
Yes. I’d waited a very long time to regain the family that Lilith had caused me to lose. But I understood that my years of strife had been required by fate or the gods—or whatever seemed to dictate the rules of the universe. Hell—I had even accepted that dealing with Niall was a part of my penance. I’d had a few opportunities to kill him throughout the years, for he felt himself to be safe from me when the sun was up. However, he was not safe. Indeed, I could have surprised him and killed him on any number of days.
However, I also needed him. I had confidence in Sookie being the answer to my long-asked prayers. But—if the vampire, Northman, had befouled her too greatly—I would simply have to wait until Niall had another “itch” to scratch with a human woman.
I took several deep breaths, for I could still feel the effects of breathing—despite the depravity of the “lesser side” of my current state.
And, with those breaths, I felt calmer. I had carefully set up my first meeting with Sookie—a meeting where I manufactured injuries upon myself created by a “vampire.” I’d hoped that any infatuation she’d had with the night-walkers would be ended in suspicion. And I’d chosen Eric Northman as my “attacker” since he’d recently owned her home and I wasn’t sure of what the relationship between the two had been.
After seeing the beauty Sookie had grown into, it had been almost impossible for me to control my fangs as the human sheriff had fussed over me. I’d allowed Sookie to see a few of my thoughts—some manufactured just for her. Hell—I’d even imagined, many times, the image of Eric Northman biting into my flesh. But—from what I’d gleaned from her own thoughts, which were shielded better than Ethaline’s had ever been—she did not doubt the large blond vampire. She doubted me.
And that was UNACCEPTABLE.
After that, my stay at the human hospital had been tedious.
My “questioning” by Andy Bellefleur had been even more tedious—though I’d learned something “delicious” about him. He had close contact with fairies—Halflings.
Of course, that hadn’t been enough to make my time worthwhile. However, I’d needed to play the victimized human, and there were too many involved for me to risk glamour. Plus, I had still hoped that my status as vampire attack victim would soften Sookie’s heart.
It had been more than eighteen hours before it had been “acceptable” to the humans for me to leave their backwoods hospital. Of course, I’d had to actively keep my magic from healing my lesser wounds so I wouldn’t arouse their suspicions of me.
In truth, part of me had hoped that Miss Stackhouse would visit me in my convalescence.
But that had not happened.
I’d left the hospital and had ventured to her home—a home where I knew her grandparents had lived when I’d previously visited.
Not that I had paid them much mind.
It was Sookie’s absence from the home—and that absence of all others—which had initially heightened my ire. And then I had allowed myself to smell—a luxury I had not done before, given my reaction to the Band-Aid years before.
What I’d smelled had been the catalyst of my current frenzy.
A lot of it!
Sookie and the vampire!
But that was not the worst of it.
Given the acute state of my thousands-year-old sense of smell, I also picked up on the fact that Sookie was carrying the devil’s spawn! And that was not acceptable! Sookie was to use her Fae magic to mate with me! Not an inferior vampire!
Enraged, I tore up more trees upon the land adjacent to that which belonged to the Stackhouses. And then I tore up the very earth itself, razing anything with a root along the bank of a stream which I knew would eventually make its way to Stackhouse land.
I threw all the dead vegetation into the water, hoping to muddy it up! For Sookie had surely dammed my own plans by becoming attached to a vampire. Hell! I could have accepted her love for another. But the fact that she’d spent her light upon him! A magic which had been fated for me!
I closed my eyes tightly.
“This could yet be salvaged,” I said to myself. “She has now proven herself to be a viable vessel for the children of vampires,” I soothed. I felt myself nodding.
“Indeed, the Northman’s spawn may very well be viewed as a test-case—a trial run!” I added as I dropped the tree which had become my latest victim.
And I was certain that once Sookie understood our story and how we were destined for each other, she would accept her place with me. Indeed, if needed, I would threaten or kill Northman to ensure that she would forget about him. She would have an eternity to do so—after all.
As for the children she now grew? Whether they lived or died would ultimately be contingent upon Sookie’s cooperation.
Resolved, I felt my rage diminish a little. Still, it was too close to the surface, and I was too close on edge. I recognized that I needed to take in fresh blood—preferably blood that I could use to test my control as well.
Full-blooded fairies were still too much for me, for—when I allowed myself to smell or taste them—I always failed to retain my control. Therefore, the grouping of fairies that I had learned was in the area would not be an accurate test of how I might control myself around Sookie when the time came.
However, recalling the wonderful scent that Andy Bellefleur had carried with him, I smiled.
“Perfect,” I said to myself as I began my hunt.
A/N: Hello! I hope that you enjoyed Warlow’s POV. I always thought that the story behind John Stackhouse was flimsy at best. I hope that I did a better job at offering Warlow’s motivations (and his “inner” craziness).
Next week, we’ll have another INNER-Lude as our favorite Viking vampire “sleeps” the day away. It will be from Willa’s POV.
Thanks for the new banners, Seph! And thanks for the beta work, Kleannhouse! Y’all are the best!
By the way, I didn’t cast Rutget Hauer as Niall. I like that actor, and he was sort of fun on the show, but–honestly–I think that it was odd to make a him seem so “old.” I know that fairies age, and I generally cast an older actor to play him; however, in this story, I am conceptualizing Niall differently. I hope it works out! (Fingers crossed!)