From Dead to Worse

who was looking much more battered than the king. Of course, Sigebert would see Eric as a traitor.
    Eric was bleeding from the head and his arm was clearly broken. Castro was bleeding sluggishly from the mouth, so Sigebert had maybe stomped on him. Eric and Castro were both lying on the ground, and in the harsh security light they both looked whiter than snow. Sam had been tied to the bumper of his own truck somehow, and he wasn’t damaged at all, at least so far. Thank God.
    I tried to figure out how I could conquer Sigebert with my aluminum softball bat, but I didn’t come up with any good ideas. If I rushed him, he’d just laugh. Even as grievously wounded as he was, he was still a vampire and I was no match for him unless I had a great idea. So I watched, and I waited, but in the end I couldn’t stand to see him hurting Eric anymore; believe me, when a vampire kicks you, you get plenty hurt. Plus, Sigebert was having a great time with the big knife he had brought.
    The biggest weapon at my disposal? Okay, that would be my car. I felt a little pang of regret, because it was the best car I’d ever had, and Tara had sold it to me for a dollar when she’d gotten a newer one. But it was the only thing I could think of that would make a dent in Sigebert.
    So back I crept, praying that Sigebert would be so absorbed in his torture that he wouldn’t notice the sound of the car door. I laid my head on the steering wheel and thought as hard as I’ve ever thought. I considered the parking lot and its topography, and I thought about the location of the bound vampires, and I took a deep breath and turned the key. I started around the building, wishing my car could creep through the damn nandina bushes like I had, and I swung wide to allow room to charge, and my lights caught Sigebert, and I hit the accelerator and went straight at him. He tried to get out of the way, but he was none too bright and I’d caught him with his pants down (literally—I really didn’t like to think about his next torture plan) and I hit him very hard, and up he bounced, to land on the roof of the car with a huge thud.
    I screamed and braked, because this was as far as my plan had gone. He slid down the back of the car, leaving a horrible sheet of dark blood, and disappeared from view. Scared he’d pop up in the rearview mirror, I threw the car into reverse and hit the pedal again. Bump. Bump. I yanked the gear stick into park and leaped out, bat in hand, to find Sigebert’s legs and most of his torso were wedged under the car. I dashed over to Eric and began fumbling with the silver chain, while he stared at me with his eyes wide. Castro was cursing in Spanish, fluently and fluidly, and Sam was saying, “Hurry, Sookie, hurry!” which really didn’t help my powers of concentration.
    I gave up on the damn chains and got the big knife and cut Sam free so he could help. The knife came close enough to his skin to make him yelp a time or two, but I was really doing the best I could, and he didn’t bleed. To give him credit, he made it over to Castro in record time and began freeing him while I ran back to Eric, laying the knife on the ground beside us as I worked. Now that I had at least one ally who had the use of his hands and legs, I was able to concentrate, and I got Eric’s legs unbound (at least now he could run away—I guess that was my thinking) and then, more slowly, his arms and hands. The silver had been wound around him many times, and Sigebert had made sure it touched Eric’s hands. They looked ghastly. Castro had suffered even more from the chains because Sigebert had divested him of his beautiful cape and most of his shirt.
    I was unwinding the last strand when Eric shoved me as hard as he could, grabbed the knife, and leaped to his feet so swiftly I saw only a blur. Then he was on Sigebert, who had actually lifted the car to release his own trapped legs. He’d begun dragging himself out from under, and in another minute he would have been ambulatory.
    Did I mention it was a big knife? And it must have been sharp, too, because Eric landed by Sigebert, said, “Go to your maker,” and cut off the warrior vampire’s head.
    “Oh,” I said shakily, and sat down abruptly on the cold parking lot gravel. “Oh, wow.” We all remained where we were, panting, for a good five minutes. Then Sam straightened up from the side of Felipe de Castro and offered him a hand. The vampire took it, and when he was upright, he introduced