Never Say Never (True Blood Fanfic - Tara/Eric)

Chapter 7 - Body Language

Chapter 7 - Body Language

"Oh fuck!" Lafayette yelled, slamming the door in the stranger's face. He turned the deadbolt then backed away. "Who the hell is that?" he said, looking at Tara.

Tara frantically shook her head. Her heart was racing so fast, she thought it might burst right out of her chest. "I don't know, I don't know."

The man banged on the door with such force that it rattled on its hinges.

"Open up little piggies," he called out, ramming the door until the wood bulged and cracked in the center. Luckily, it didn't cave in. Tara and Lafayette jumped and backed further away from the door. She heard the vicious growls of the man's two werewolf companions as they paced the length of the wrap-around porch. She and Lafayette were trapped inside with nowhere to run.

Where the fuck is Eric, she thought. I should've known his vamp ass couldn't be trusted.

The banging started again.

"Lafayette, that door's not gone hold forever. We need weapons. You gotta gun in the house somewhere?"

"You know I don't fuck with no guns!"

Tara let out a frustrated sigh. "What kind of drug dealer doesn't carry a goddamn gun?"

"Me, bitch, and for yo' information, I don't deal no more."

Tara suddenly remembered she left her black duffle bag filled with weapons outside in the back seat of Naomi's jeep. She silently berated her own stupidity.

The silver dagger, she thought. Eric had kicked it somewhere in the living room. She ran into the room and frantically searched until she found it in the corner. After retrieving it, she stood up just in time to see a large shadowy figure sweeping pass the front window. She peeked between the blinds, but nothing was there to explain what she just saw.

Lafayette came into the living room holding a butcher knife in his right hand and his cell phone in the other.

"I called the police," he said. "They'll be here soon."

"We'll be fuckin' dead by then!" she snapped. The Renard Parish Sheriff Department didn't have a stellar reputation when it came to responding to emergency calls. Tara remembered how Adele Stackhouse used to complain that the Sherriff Department was always a day late and a dollar short. Her untimely demise by the hands of a deranged serial killer had proven her words correctly.

"I'll call Jesus then," said Lafayette, pressing the green button on his cell phone.

Suddenly, the banging on the front door ceased. The sound of the man's horrified scream startled them both. Lafayette dropped his phone and cursed when it broke into two parts. The scream was followed by what sounded to Tara like a chorus of wounded animals shrieking.

She and Lafayette eased towards the door. She peered through the peephole, but couldn't see anything. Something hard hit the door, causing her to jump back in alarm.

"Shit!" Lafayette exclaimed. "Look down at your feet."

She lifted her foot and cringed. A dark pool of blood seeped under the door, staining the white soles of her tennis shoes. What the hell was going on out there?

"Tara," said a calm, familiar voice from the other side of the door. "You can open the door now."

Her hands shook as she unbolted the lock. She opened the door a fraction of an inch to peer out. Eric stood over three mangled bodies, two of which were a naked man and woman. Blood drenched the front of his shirt and was smeared across his mouth. His blue eyes gleamed with the afterglow of his kill. Even his cheeks looked flushed with color. He licked his fingers as if he was savoring the taste of a gourmet meal then smiled at her in that evil, sardonic way of his. A chill crawled up her spine and clamped a cold hand around her throat.