Chapter Thirty-Three: Incoming Compton
There are many advantages to being an Impervious Immortal. One of them is that when my prey must stop and rest, or in this case, die for the day, I am not forced to end my pursuit. Grissom had been forced to take shelter, while I remained capable of tracking. His underwhelming ability for going into hiding allowed me to catch him before noon the next morning.
He had attempted to make a land run to Dallas before catching a plane to some other continent and beginning his hundred-year exile from North America. The Bossier airport is not an international one, and New Orleans would be the equivalent of jumping into the lion’s den. Of course, none of that matters, because I am sitting in front of the spot where he buried himself leaned against a tree, and texting my Bonded repeated apologies.
Merry Christmas…- E
Will you be back by tonight? – S
It is very likely. Already caught up with Grissom. – E
That was quick? -S
I have unfair advantages. -E
I missed you this morning. -S
Missed you too, Dear One. -E
When do you think you’ll be home? -S
In Texas. Earliest I will be home is nine. Have to detain Grissom for trial. -E
We can pretend tonight is Christmas Eve and tomorrow’s Christmas… -S
I smile at her antics, but also shake my head. These holidays are strangely important to her. It is difficult to fathom. In the back of my mind, I picture us decades down the road, gathered around a dining table, all holding hands as Sookie recites grace to the children she will bear. The vampires of our family will remain at the table with our living family, all of us enjoying some arbitrary holiday or another… It is a strangely satisfying daydream.
What are you thinking about right now? -S
You and babies. -E
(=^_^=) Love you, but I hope we can wait a few more years! -S
Me too. -E
I want to see her become a teacher. Even if she only follows the career a short time before becoming a mother, I want her to reach the dream she has held close to her heart these past years. Perhaps when our children start school, she may return to teaching… I am becoming way too absorbed in this, I realize, chagrinned. How easily my Bonded melts away the restless warrior in me, and makes him a contented man. Centuries of vampirism are chiseled from my soul each passing hour spent under the radiant sun.
But as the sun begins to set, I feel the vampire in me revive from his nap in the brilliant daylight. He is shaking away the lingering laziness of his sleep, grinning expectantly, waiting for his prey to rise. This is the first moment in the last six months where I have fully recognized the duality of my spirit, the vampire warrior and the love-struck Bonded. I will need to thank Grissom for letting my vampire stretch his legs.
As the sun falls beyond the horizon, I send Sookie one last text: Back to work, love you. See you tonight. -E
Be safe. I love you, too. -S She replies quickly, and then, that is all. I wait in silence for Grissom to worm his way to the surface and shake the dirt from his body.
Once I see the mound of dirt start to expand, I rise from the tree that I have rested against all day, and prepare myself for the altercation. Grissom is not one to be taken lightly. He is just less than a century younger than myself. It will be quite the battle should he try to stand up to me.
He senses me, I discern while my body tightens for his readied attack. Grissom has paused before leaving the soil, just below the surface, calculating his best plan for attack. If he is smart, he will try to rush me straight from the grave, and then juke past to flee. He knows better than to try to take me in a prolonged fight. If I am uninjured, he cannot hope to outrun me. I can fly. He cannot.
As I anticipated, Grissom tries to wait me out first, lull me from my fighting stance. Therefore, when he springs from the dirt, he is caught off-guard when I am still ready for him after thirty minutes of waiting. However, he has his own surprise for me. He died for the day holding a stake and as he lunges and feints, his arm swings to deliver the blow.
“Missed!” I snarl as he leaves himself vulnerable by letting his arm remain within my grasp after I deflect his attack. Clutching the limb, I swing him against the trunk of my resting tree. Once I have him by the throat and suspended in the air, Grissom looks down in surprise at his weapon buried in my chest.
I let out an angry huff. That was a close one, I realize when I feel the stake between my sixth and seventh rib. With my free hand, I yank the stick from my flesh. “I should end you right here and now for that,” I snarl in his face, “but the Magister would not appreciate being summoned and then sent packing. I suppose I will just have to make you suffer for the entire six evenings of your incarceration!”
With my free hand, I take out a thick, leather glove and use my teeth to tighten it over my hand. Grissom flinches as he knows what is coming after I reach into my pocket and extract a thick chain of silver. I cannot wait for the day when I no longer need the theatrics of these fucking gloves.
I say nothing as I cinch the chain around Grissom’s neck and ascend into the sky with him hung by it. The sound of his sizzling flesh and his hissing complaints are my entertainment all the way back to the warehouse.
“Northman,” a slight vampire greets me when I touch down at my meeting place.
“Billy Compton,” I grin devilishly just to annoy him. “How are things in New Orleans?”
He offers little more than a shrug, “Procuring is suspended until after the Revelation. I have been twiddling my thumbs, performing errands for Her Majesty to pass the time.”
I nod while I unlock the warehouse door, dragging my prisoner inside. “Why are you looking at me like that, Billy?” I ask when Compton’s eyes continue to stare at me. He thinks he is being subtle, but a vampire and warrior my age knows when he is being observed.
“I didn’t believe it until I saw it, but that aura says it all. The Viking is actually Bonded!” Billy shakes his head in disbelief yet again.
“Happily,” I tell him with a grin he cannot comprehend. “So, Sophie-Anne is maintaining her Procurement Department, even after the Revelation?”
Compton shrugs, “I guess she’s waiting to see if the laws slacken after we’re out for awhile. She wants to retain me just in case that happens.” He pauses for a moment before looking around, “So, where is this girl you want me to try and put back together?”
I jerk my head over to the silent figure sitting obediently vacant in the corner. Some food containers are stacked neatly beside her, uneaten. Shit, she is worse off than I thought. I can smell her waste in the air, and her incisions look angry. Perhaps I should have asked Godric to look after her…
“I can tell from here that she will never be the same girl again,” Compton says with a frown and his face drawn thoughtfully.
“See if you can get her cleaned up while I get this one checked in,” I tell the procurer while I drag Grissom to the holding cell. I make quick work of shackling the bastard before coming back upstairs. In the time I was gone, Compton has stripped Zoey down and is carefully scrubbing her body clean. Thankfully, my warehouse has running water, in the event I need to hose things down after a bad meeting.
“Any thoughts?” I ask, coming to check on the pair.
Rising to his full height, Compton crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Zoey considerately. “I can restore basic cognition, but the memories he’s wiped are long gone. I don’t know the first thing about rebuilding this girl’s personality. I mean, she’ll have to relearn everything. From what I can tell, language is still intact, simple motor functions are still there… Basic things like that, but the things that made her who she was are lost. She won’t remember a single book she’s read or movie she’s seen. She’ll never remember her family or friends. All the important personality traits that created her are gone. I don’t know what will happen when I turn her back on. Maybe she’ll respond like an amnesiac? The most I can do is switch her back on, so she may start over.”
I run my hand through my hair and sigh, “Be certain that the trauma she sustained from Grissom is wiped clean. Her mind must not be any more fucked up than it is by the sounds of it. I will make some phone calls. Perhaps I might find a facility for her.”
Compton raises his eyebrows at me, “She must have been a mighty good friend to your Bonded.”
No, not really, but Sookie would never forgive me if I did nothing.
Compton takes my silence as confirmation before stating, “Regardless, she will need regular care as her body continues recovering from the surgery. I doubt you could send her to a facility before knowing her face will be unrecognizable from what it was before Grissom got ahold of her.”
“I already know she will look nothing like the girl she was,” I rumble, looking Zoey over with a critical eye. New nose, shaved-in cheekbones, and jawline; her squared features have been broken and shaped into the trendier heart-shaped appearance. Her breasts and rear have been augmented, but Grissom never does implants, so, the additional mass probably came from her thighs or belly. Her uterus will have been removed for ‘convenience,’ and her fingerprints have been burned off with acid, then soaked in vampire blood to prevent unsightly scars.
“Well, at least I know how he was managing to turn off their cognition,” Compton states with a frown. When he sees my curious gaze, he points to Zoey’s face, “He destroys their physical identity. He puts them under glamour, modifies them, and then when they can’t even recognize themselves in the mirror, it’s that much easier to turn their minds off. They’re traumatized, they’re looking to escape, and he gives them exactly that, a free pass from their own personal hell.”
“With the cognitive mind switched off, it is that much easier to deconstruct their personalities until all that is left is a sex and blood doll who can feed itself, use a toilet, and obey simple commands,” I realize.
“How long will you need with her?” I ask after having done my detailed appraisal of her appearance.
Compton tilts his head back and forth thoughtfully a moment, “With how little I might even do for her, I would probably say she’ll be the best I may get her within about four or five hours?” he estimates.
“Then I will retrieve her at 4 A.M.,” I nod. “That will give me time to discuss her options with the rest of my Bloodline. There is a safe cache in my office if you decide to remain for the day,” I offer, and he seems surprised I would be inclined to extend its use to him. “I will see you again shortly.”
The vampire nods at me and I leave the warehouse to return to Bon Temps. There is much to discuss this evening.
Everyone is seated in the living room, awaiting Eric’s return to the farmhouse. Sookie has only just finished explaining everything she knows to Jason who is nodding, a grave expression on his face.
“Dang,” Jason whispers into his hands. “Poor Zoey…and Eric doesn’t know how bad it is yet?”
“He had a specialist come in this evening to examine her. He has just concluded the meeting with him and is returning now to give us the prognosis,” I tell the young man.
“Best case, worst case scenarios?” he asks me.
I let out a sigh, “Best case is an amnesiac. She would still have skill sets, preferences, and personality, but no memories to how she obtained them. It causes a wide variety of responses depending on the individual. Anxiety, depression, anger…it depends on her. Worst case scenario is she will be a full-grown woman with the abilities of a toddler. She would need to relearn everything, like using a toilet, speaking, reading…everything. All wrapped in the shell of a human being with no personality whatsoever. I just hope…” When I trail off, the siblings stare at me aghast, and I tell them one of my greater concerns, “Grissom has a habit of removing vocal chords. Usually this is only done on demand as some buyers like their… They like the noises.” I do not want to say the word ‘doll,’ but it is a rather precise term for the products Grissom creates.
Both Sookie and Jason flinch and reflexively touch their throats. Sookie looks particularly upset about the situation, and I can already see her planning to assist in any and all rehabilitation the girl will require. Jason appears sympathetic, but I do not sense any obligation to help her for the long-term.
Before any further discussion takes place, the front door opens, and my Child comes to lean in the archway between the foyer and the living room. Sookie rises quickly from her perch on the sofa arm and wraps Eric in her embrace. “How bad is it?” I hear her ask worriedly.
Eric snakes his arms over her shoulders, kissing the top of her head while he takes her to sit in his lap on the sofa. “It is difficult to say just yet,” he tells her. “Compton is working at turning her cognition back on. We will know more once she can comprehend what is happening around her. Compton said she still has her language and general skills intact. We are hoping for an amnesiac, but we will have to wait and see.”
“Did he rip out her voice box?” Jason asks, his leg bouncing anxiously.
“I did not see any incisions that would indicate surgical tampering of her vocal chords,” Eric offers. “However, until she tries to speak, I will not know for sure if they have been damaged.”
“What do we do now?” Sookie asks quietly.
Eric sighs and leans his head against hers in a movement of comfort, and I see him resigning himself to the presence of another woman in his house and sense his unease. They have a wedding to plan in just under a year and a womb that is a ticking clock of fertility. If Sookie became pregnant in the next few months, she would not have the time nor the energy to devote to Zoey Roth.
“What if I took her in?” I am surprised at the sound of my own voice. Four heads turn to look at me with raised eyebrows. All I manage is a slight rise of my shoulders, “I pass for my early-twenties quite easily. If I wear a cap or wig, I will not stand out in public during the day for brief outings, and it is not like I have anything to do until Jason’s transformation.”
Everyone is staring at me silently and I find it quite amusing since I am the one who advocated humanitarianism in our Bloodline.
“If she has to redo all her schooling,” Pam finally speaks for the first time since convening in the living room, “Master Godric would be the best to re-educate her. He does not have any obligations to the Louisiana court, or really any responsibilities currently,” She gives me an apologetic bow of her head for stating such a thing. Nevertheless, I offer her a grin because it was a blunt, yet accurate assessment.
“Sookie,” Eric looks to his Bonded with hope, “will that ease your mind?”
Tilting her head thoughtfully, she gives me a strange smile and nods, “Yeah, I think that’s a better fit.” I do not know if the expression I give her conveys my curiosity the way I wish it to, seeing as her eyes soften and her mouth relaxes in a contented sweep of her lips. “I think continuous company would do you good,” She shrugs, and all I can manage is to blink at her repeatedly.
Eric lets out a relieved sigh at Sookie’s consent, “I will need to donate some of your clothing. Pam, I want you to take her measurements. You may shop for her tomorrow evening.” He reaches into his pocket, extracts his credit card, and hands it into Pam’s eager fingers.
“My pleasure!” Pam clutches the credit card as if it is the answer to life’s greatest questions.
“Jason, Sookie,” Eric turns to the siblings, “Godric, Pam, and I will go pick up Ms. Roth at the warehouse, then Godric will take her straight to his residence-”
“But-” Sookie begins to protest.
“Sookie, her appearance will upset you greatly. At present, she knows nothing about what she has been through. All she will know is that she is in pain. It is better to treat this situation as normally as possible, help to decrease her anxiety, and assist with getting her settled in with Godric. After she has begun acclimating to him, then we will try socialization,” Eric is in full dictatorship mode, and I must say I find it amusing. He has a much better grasp of human psychology than I once gave him credit for. Then again, he has always relied more on his charisma to win over others than glamour, which might be why he is quite inept at it. I suppose he takes after me.
His Bonded frowns for a moment and I notice she does not appreciate having the law laid down before her. Eventually she purses her lips and states, “I guess I’ll go find some clothes for her. You think my gym clothes would be better? Loose and cozy?”
Eric nods, but he is tense. He knows she is unhappy with him.
After she leaves brusquely, Jason smirks and says to Eric, “Way to piss off your wife.”
“She always has to mother everyone,” Eric replies in frustration. “It will be a blessing when she is finally pregnant and has an appropriate outlet for it.”
“Until the kid grows up!” Jason laughs.
I watch, amused, from the sidelines while Jason and Eric verbally spar. Perhaps Sookie is correct, and I do need more consistent socialization. The last individual I spent quantifiable amounts of time with was Isabel, still, all our interactions were entirely professional. My Bloodline, which I have mentally added Jason and Sookie to that collective word, is now the only socialization I have. I really am quite the loner.
Eric is much more sociable than myself. He enjoys having quite human interactions, mostly because it offers the opportunity to unleash his sexuality and charisma upon the unsuspecting. He finds it far more gratifying to get what he wants without the use of glamour. I, personally, do not want for much.
Sookie returns with some clothing, dropping it in Eric’s lap, then she flops in to the chair across from him. Eric raises his eyebrows at her actions, staring expectantly for some sort of explanation. When she remains silent and pouting, Eric rises and goes to kneel before her. He still does not say anything, but places his hands on the backs of her calves and begins kneading them.
After a moment of his attention, Sookie’s lip pushes out comically further, and I hear her murmur, “I just want to help.” Eric smiles, leans in, and kisses her protruding lips.
“I know, Dear One,” Eric whispers against her lips. “I am only keeping you distanced for both your well-being and Zoey’s.”
She nods in understanding, wrapping her arms around his neck while she whispers, “It’s just hard to be on the sidelines.”
“Only until her injuries heal some,” Eric tells her, “and we have a better understanding of the girl she will become. I want you to be prepared and accepting of how she must be treated. I think it might be better if we gave her a new name, not just for her safety, but also for the benefit of understanding she is no longer Zoey Roth. That girl is dead, Sookie. We are not trying to save Zoey. Right now, we are trying to save a lost human woman and make her life one worth living. We cannot begin to bring Zoey back from the dead, but we can give this young woman a chance to live.”
I am nodding in agreement to Eric’s sage words, but when I open my eyes, three pairs are staring back at me. “Did I miss something?” I ask bemusedly at their intent gazes.
“What will you name her?” Sookie asks curiously.
“Name her?” I ask in surprise. “She is not a puppy or kitten, Sookie.”
“Well, we have to call her something,” Sookie points out. “It only seems right that you choose. After all, you’re the one who’ll be interacting with her most often.”
My bemusement quickly shifts to unease. I do not like the idea of naming this woman. It feels too much like I have ordered her from Grissom. The offer to re-educate her had been one of compassion, but naming her feels too much like ownership.
“I would prefer not to do so,” I mumble, even as a name whispers in the back of my mind. Camilla, I think, taking my memories back thousands of years. Long, brown tendrils of hair wrapped in my fingers. Big, brown eyes, staring at me in gratitude as I cup her angelic face. That relaxed setting of her lips just as I twisted her lovely neck and ended her torture…
“Godric?” Sookie calls me from my reverie, one of great joy and regret. Joy that I could save someone as I had not been saved, and regret that I could do no more than take her life to protect her from my own fate.
“Camilla,” My mouth speaks out of turn once again that night. “I will call her Camilla.”
I see my Child’s Bonded close her eyes as the name washes over her. “Camilla,” she repeats, absorbing the name.
Perhaps this time I can do more for a young woman who fell victim to a sadistic vampire.
It is nearing the time we vampires need to depart for the warehouse. I kiss Sookie goodbye before leaving, promising to return as soon as possible. She gives me a soft smile when she walks to the garage to wave goodbye and see us off.
The drive to my Sheriff’s office is a silent one. Pam is tapping my credit card against her nails impatiently and something tells me she will be disguising herself to go shopping today. Admittedly, the day after Christmas the stores are swamped with shoppers, so it would be an optimal time to go unnoticed by the two-natured. Her scent will be diluted amongst all the other bodies and she has been remarkably obedient about staying in during the day.
“Yes, Pamela,” I finally sigh once we pull up to the warehouse.
“Master?” She looks at me hopefully from the backseat. Her reflection in the rearview mirror is wide-eyed and expectant.
“You may shop during the day. Please try to disguise yourself accordingly.
“Thank you, Master,” Pam grins, clutching my card excitedly.
“Take Sookie with you. You may answer her questions regarding Zo… Camilla,” I tell her.
“Yes, Master,” Pam agrees while I park the car and the three of us climb out.
When we enter the main floor of the warehouse, Compton looks up at us in surprise. He had not expected my entire Bloodline to be present.
“Is she aware?” I ask.
The young vampire nods, “Yes, but she is very confused.”
“Who are you people?” ‘Camilla’ asks, and I am relieved her vocal chords are intact.
“These are the friends I told you about,” Compton tells her. “Eric is the one who found you.” He points to me.
“Thank you, Eric,” Camilla whispers with a slight bow of her head.
Her arms are placed strategically, attempting to hide her nudity, and I lay the clothes at her knees. “I brought you something to wear. I apologize for the delay,” I offer, rising to my full height.
As one, Compton, Godric, and I turn our backs while Pam steps in to help Camilla dress.
“Can you stand?” Pam asks her, and I listen while the women move to clothe her. “She is dressed,” Pam announces, so we turn and face them once more.
“What happened to me?” Camilla asks, some of the edge leaving her voice now that she feels less vulnerable.
“You were attacked,” Godric tells her.
“Is that why I can’t remember anything?” she asks quietly, touching her scalp as if feeling for a bump on her head that would explain her lapse in memory.
“Yes,” Compton tells her.
“Thank you for the assist, Compton. We will take it from here,” I dismiss the outsider.
“I’m sure Sophie-Anne will send you a bill for my services,” Compton replies before taking his leave. I can tell he is relieved to be let go, though I am not sure why this situation unsettles him so.
“What’s going to happen to me?” Camilla asks softly when it is only the four of us.
Godric steps forward, then seats himself on the ground in front of the young woman, “I am going to bring you home with me where we are going to let you heal and rest.”
“What then?” she asks desperately, and her arms wrap around her body for some modicum of comfort.
“When you are up for it, we will do a few tests to discover anything you remember to do,” Godric explains softly. “Once we have an idea of that, then we will figure out a course of action.”
Camilla nods. “What’s my name?” she asks.
I watch Godric hesitate, “What would you like to be called?”
Camilla clutches her head and sobs, “I don’t know… I just don’t know…”
My Maker pauses again before quietly asking, “May I call you Camilla?”
The girl wipes tears from her large brown eyes and whispers, “That’s a pretty name.” Another tear escapes her eyes and she swipes at it, “Mr. Compton showed me my reflection… I think that name’s too beautiful for me.”
Taking her hand, Godric murmurs, “After all you have been through, so polite and kind… That is beautiful to me.”
“I like the name,” she finally accepts it.
“All right,” Godric smiles and begins to rise. “Camilla, Eric will drive us back to my home. I have some clothes you may wear until Pam brings us some specifically for you.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” She looks at Pam apologetically and it makes me chuckle.
“Believe me,” Pam drawls, “it is anything but a burden.”
“Thank you, Pam,” Camilla smiles at her gratefully, and I must admit that she is quickly earning my admiration.
“Do you know if you have a favorite color?” Pam asks curiously.
Camilla’s brow draws together thoughtfully, “Green, I think. Earthy colors and tones…”
Pam nods agreeably, “They would go well with your coloring. Pants, skirts, or dresses?”
“Dresses…?” she replies uncertainly. “I don’t think I dislike any of them, though. Honestly, I’ll appreciate anything you bring me…”
“Shall we head to the car?” I ask now that my Child has an idea of her shopping list.
Camilla accepts Godric’s hand to help her rise and I note that she moves tentatively. Her surgery is still restricting her movements, but she is quickly accommodating the injuries. When he helps her into the back of the car, Pam comes to sit up front with me, allowing time for Godric to bond with his new ward.
“Why are you three helping me so much?” Camilla asks as I turn over the ignition. She quickly adds, “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t understand.”
“Camilla,” Godric murmurs, “I am at a loss of what I should tell you, but I think I should make you aware that you do not just have amnesia. This is not something that will go away. You will never remember your life prior to tonight.”
I listen carefully while she absorbs this and I am not surprised when I hear her sob. Eventually she asks, “Then I’ll always be…”
“No, you will make new memories, Camilla. You will make a new life and friends. This is not an end, but a brand-new beginning,” Godric tells her comfortingly. “We are just trying to make this new beginning as viable as possible. Do not think of it as a loss, but an opportunity. I will help you be the best you can be. Whatever you find yourself wanting of yourself, I will do everything in my power to make it happen.”
“What is it you want right now, Camilla?” I ask, interrupting Godric’s vows.
“A shower,” she replies with a sobbing laugh.
My entire Bloodline chuckles at her comment.
“I like her,” Pam declares.
Camilla seems to take Pam’s approval with pride.
“What else would you like, Camilla?” I prod her to continue.
She is quiet for some time, but eventually offers, “Something to eat. It’s really the weirdest thing. I don’t remember eating anything, but I can see them and taste them in my head. I want chicken.”
“Hmm, my wife made chicken for dinner last night. Do you think you could wait until noon for it? I will have Pam drop some off with your new clothes,” I tell her.
“All right,” she easily agrees.
I pull up in front of my condo and turn to Pam, “Grab some food to take over to Godric’s.” Pam jumps out of the car and returns a few minutes later with a bag. “Pop tarts, bananas, and milk?” I give her a strange look.
“I will ask Sookie to buy some groceries for her when we go shopping,” Pam shrugs. “She will have a better idea of what to feed her.”
“I like bananas,” Camilla tells us. “I think I like them a lot.”
Pam shrugs and snaps a banana from the bunch, then reaches back to hand it to the girl. She peels it and devours the thing quickly. She has eaten all four by the time I arrive at Godric’s residence.
Before the pair can exit, Pam turns in her seat, “Camilla, may I take your photograph?” she asks.
“I guess,” The young woman shrugs.
Pam quickly reaches into my glovebox and takes out the Polaroid while simultaneously turning on the cabin light. Camilla automatically gives the camera a shy smile and Pam snaps a quick picture.
“Rest well, Camilla,” I tell her while Godric assists the injured woman from the backseat.
“Thank you, Eric… For finding me and doing all of this,” Camilla murmurs before she is led to the house.
Once the door is closed and I see my Maker and his new roommate are safely inside, I turn to Pam, “What is the picture for?”
“I want to show it to Sookie,” Pam shrugs. “I think with her gift, she might be very capable of helping Camilla.”
I frown at the suggestion, but my Bonded’s telepathy could be more than a little useful. Sookie would be able to read Camilla’s concerns and moods better than any of us and give better assessments of how she may be coping with this ordeal.
“She would want to help, Eric,” Pam reads the hesitation on my face accurately.
I sigh, “Yes, I know.”
“I thought maybe a picture would help prepare her for meeting Camilla.”
“It was a good idea,” I tell her.
“Are you going to let her come with me to meet her tomorrow?” she asks me curiously.
“We will see how she responds to the picture and then Sookie and I will decide together,” I answer noncommittally. I would prefer to keep distance between the two women for now, but I know Sookie will push for instantly being taken off the bench.
My Sookie… Perhaps Camilla needs to be mothered a little bit…