I heard the gleeful laughter coming from the other end of the phone. It was chilling. I couldn't feel the least bit sorry for Mickey, but I was glad I wouldn't have to witness his punishment.
"Salome'll catch him?" I asked.
Eric nodded happily as he returned his phone to his pocket. "And she can do things to him more painful than anything I could imagine," he said."Though I can imagine plenty right now."
"She's that, ah, creative?"
"He's hers. She's his sire. She can do with him what she wishes. He can't disobey her and go unpunished. He has to go to her when she calls him, and she's calling."
"Not on the phone, I take it," I ventured.
His eyes glinted down at me. "No, she won't need a phone. He's trying to run away, but he'll go to her eventually. The longer he holds out, the more severe his torture will be. Of course," he added, in case I missed the point, "that's as it should be."
"Pam is yours, right?" I asked, falling to my knees and putting my fingers to Tara's cold neck. I didn't want to look at her.
"Yes," Eric said. "She's free to leave when she wants, but she comes back when I let her know I need her help."
I didn't know how I felt about that, but it didn't really make a hell of a lot of difference. Tara gasped and moaned. "Wake up, girl," I said. "Tara! I'm gonna call an ambulance for you.
"No," she said sharply. "No." There was a lot of that word going around tonight.
"But you're bad hurt."
"I can't go to the hospital. Everyone will know."
"Everyone will know someone beat the shit out of you when you can't go to work for a couple of weeks, you idiot."
"You can have some of my blood," Eric offered. He was looking down at Tara without any obvious emotion.
"No," she said. "I'd rather die."
"You might," I said, looking her over. "Oh, but you've had blood from Franklin or Mickey." I was assuming some tit-for-tat in their lovemaking.
"Of course not," she said, shocked. The horror in her voice took me aback. I'd had vampire blood when I'd needed it. The first time, I'd have died without it.
"Then you have to go to the hospital." I was really concerned that Tara might have internal injuries. "I'm scared for you to move," I protested, when she tried to push herself to a seated position. Mr. Super Strength didn't help, which irritated me, since he could have shifted her easily.
But at last Tara managed to sit with her back against the wall, the empty window allowing the chilly wind to gust in and blow the curtains to and fro. The rain had abated until only a drop or two was coming in. The linoleum in front of the window was wet with water and blood, and the glass lay in glittering sharp fragments, some stuck to Tara's damp clothes and skin.
"Tara, listen to me," Eric said. She looked up at him. Since he was close to the fluorescent light, she had to squint. I thought she looked pitiful, but Eric didn't seem to see the same person I was seeing. "Your greed and selfishness put my—my friend Sookie in danger. You say you're her friend, too, but you don't act like it."
Hadn't Tara loaned me a suit when I needed one? Hadn't she loaned me her car when mine burned? Hadn't she helped me on other occasions when I needed it? "Eric, this isn't any of your business," I said.
"You called me and asked me for my help. That makes it my business. I called Salome and told her what her child was doing, and she's taken him away and to punish him for it. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Yes," I said, and I'm ashamed to say I sounded sullen.
"Then I'm going to make my point with Tara." He looked back down at her. "Do you understand me?"
Tara nodded painfully. The bruises on her face and throat seemed to be darkening more every minute.
"I'm getting some ice for your throat," I told her, and ran into the kitchen to dump ice from the plastic trays into a Ziploc bag. I didn't want to listen to Eric scold her; she seemed so pitiful.
When I came back less than a minute later, Eric had finished whatever he was going to say to Tara. She was touching her neck gingerly, and she took the bag from me and held it to her throat. While I was leaning over her, anxious and scared, Eric was back on his cell phone.
I twitched with worry. "You need a doctor," I urged her.
"No," she said.
I looked up at Eric, who was just finishing his phone call. He was the injury expert.
"She'll heal without going to the hospital," he said briefly. His indifference made a chill run down my spine. Just when I thought I was used to them, vampires would show me their true face, and I would have to remind myself all over again that they were a different race. Or maybe it was centuries of conditioning that made the difference; decades of disposing of people as they chose, taking what they wanted, enduring the dichotomy of being the most powerful beings on earth in the darkness, and yet completely helpless and vulnerable during the hours of light.
"But will she have some permanent damage? Something doctors could fix if she got to them quick?"
"I'm fairly certain that her throat is only badly bruised. She has some broken ribs from the beating, possibly some loose teeth. Mickey could have broken her jaw and her neck very easily, you know. He probably wanted her to be able to talk to you when he brought her here, so he held back a little. He counted on you panicking and letting him in. He didn't think you could gather your thoughts so quickly. If I'd been him, my first move would have been to damage your mouth or neck so you couldn't rescind my entrance."
That possibility hadn't occurred to me, and I blanched.
"When he backhanded you, I think that was what he was aiming for," Eric continued dispassionately.
I'd heard enough. I thrust a broom and dustpan into his hands. He looked at them as if they were ancient artifacts and he could not fathom their use.
"Sweep up," I said, using a wet washcloth to clean the blood and dirt off my friend. I didn't know how much of this conversation Tara was absorbing, but her eyes were open and her mouth was shut, so maybe she was listening. Maybe she was just working through the pain.
Eric moved the broom experimentally and made an attempt to sweep the glass into the pan while it lay in the middle of the floor. Of course, the pan slid away. Eric scowled.
I'd finally found something Eric did poorly.
"Can you stand?" I asked Tara. She focused on my face and nodded very slightly. I squatted and took her hands. Slowly and painfully, she drew her knees up, and then she pushed as I pulled. Though the window had broken mostly in big pieces, a few bits of glass fell from her as she rose, and I flicked an eye at Eric to make sure he understood he should clean them up. He had a truculent set to his mouth.
I tried to put my arm around Tara to help her into my bedroom, but my wounded shoulder gave a throb of pain so unexpected that I flinched. Eric tossed down the dustpan. He picked up Tara in one smooth gesture and put her on the couch instead of my bed. I opened my mouth to protest and he looked at me. I shut my mouth. I went into the kitchen and fetched one of my pain pills, and I got Tara to swallow one, which took some coaxing. The medicine seemed to knock her out, or maybe she just didn't want to acknowledge Eric anymore. Anyway, she kept her eyes closed and her body slack, and gradually her breathing grew even and deep.
Eric handed me the broom with a triumphant smile. Since he'd lifted Tara, clearly I was stuck with his task. I was awkward because of my bad shoulder, but I finished sweeping up the glass and disposing of it in a garbage bag. Eric turned toward the door. I hadn't heard anyone arrive, but Eric opened the door to Bill before Bill even knocked. Eric's earlier phone conversation must have been with Bill. In a way, that made sense; Bill lived in Eric's fiefdom, or whatever they called it. Eric needed help, so Bill was obliged to supply it. My ex was burdened with a large piece of plywood, a hammer, and a box of nails.