The Guily Ones

Fellowship of the Sun 2

"For fuck's sake, Stackhouse!" Newlin yelled, clutching his hand where a paintball had struck him. What a baby.

His "followers" scattered in shock as a second paintball hit Newlin square in the forehead. Jason Stackhouse deserved a gold star for his aim; growing up in the rural South had clearly honed his shooting skills. I certainly couldn't have hit that mark.

Not that I had the luxury of aiming right now. Unlike the "mighty warriors of God" who had abandoned Sookie at the first sign of danger, my bodyguard was apparently one of the few with actual conviction. That meant he had my arm twisted painfully behind my back, and his other hand was uncomfortably tight around my throat. I tried not to choke, but some help would've been appreciated.

Sookie, now free thanks to Jason's distraction, ran—rather theatrically—into Bill's arms instead of helping me. Just like that silly Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind.

By this point, I couldn't help but wheeze—a sound that seemed to amuse my captor. His sickening grin widened as he twisted my arm further, making me gasp in pain.

"Fuck you!" I spat, struggling against his hold, but he had me locked down with practiced ease.

Dumbass Sookie pulled away from Bill and raced toward the stage to free Eric from the silver chains that had subdued him, while the creep at my back chuckled and whispered in my ear.

"Or maybe I'll fuck you, whore." He made the mistake of licking my neck, then whispered, "Just like the vampires did. How many humans did you betray by siding with them? How many loved ones did you lose to them because of your treachery?"

That did it. He hit a nerve I didn't even know was there. Enough was enough.

With a move that dislocated my trapped shoulder, I threw the 6'3" man over my shoulder onto the floor, then kicked him so hard in the ribs that I heard a satisfying crack. He screamed and gasped for breath, just like I had been, but now the room was eerily quiet.

"Say that again, you bastard!" I shouted at the man writhing on the ground, wiping my neck with my one good hand where he'd licked me. I resisted the urge to spit on him. As a sharp pain reminded me of my dislocated shoulder, I tore a strip from my already ruined Merlotte's shirt, using my teeth and good arm to fashion a makeshift sling. Only then did I look around, freezing mid-movement. Everyone was staring at me like I'd grown two horns.

The whole group of churchgoers, the Stackhouse siblings, and two vampires. All of them wide-eyed, caught in their tracks. Well, except for one vampire. Bill looked like he'd just seen a flying pig, while Eric barely moved a muscle, perhaps showing the slightest hint of a smirk as he watched me with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his tank top far too revealing eyebrow raised in true Eric fashion. I swallowed hard.

Fuck. Maybe I'd gone too far for a plain waitress from Bon Temps I had tried to cultivate. I scrambled to think of something to diffuse the tension, but Eric's gaze had already shifted away. Before I could react, he had Newlin in a chokehold, throwing him to the ground and standing over him with a snarl and bared fangs. That quickly shifted everyone's attention back to him. Perhaps having a murderous vampire on your side wasn't so bad after all.

"No, Eric, don't!" Sookie cried out in panic, while Jason shouted the opposite from the balcony. I just rolled my eyes. I didn't care what happened to Reverend Newlin. I was more surprised Eric hadn't ripped his throat out already, especially considering the restraint he'd shown all evening. Instead, he continued to snarl over the pitiful preacher, who was babbling dramatically.

The doors burst open, and an army of vampires—no better word for it—flooded into the church. The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees, and I shivered. A particularly arrogant, distinctly Texan vampire stepped forward to speak.