Chapter 1: Good Night Hunting
*The lovely Stephenie Meyer obviously owns all things Twilight.
*This story is a slight detour from canon, but true in spirit. I'll explain further in the footnotes.
Texas, mid 1930s, Jasper's POV
The moon was full tonight. It lit up the countryside. The sky wasn't as bright as on a sunny day, of course, but similar to days where clouds blocked most of the sun's rays. The perfect night for hunting. I didn't need the light to help me see. I saw equally well in daylight and the deepest black night. Actually, I thought the colors shone more clearly and more beautifully in the dark. A full moon benefited me, because it served as a beacon, enticing humans to wander freely in the night. They thought they could see on bright nights like this. They never noticed me, though, at least not until it was too late.
I'd spent the last hour following two men who were walking along a poorly paved road a few miles north of a hobo camp near San Antonio. The camp was one of my favorite hunting grounds, full of homeless young men who wouldn't be missed if they disappeared. But tonight was not a normal hunt. We needed newborns, fast. The coven from Reynosa was still reeling from its loss to us in December. Maria had killed the leader's mate during the battle, and Pedro was determined to avenge her death. According to my scouts, he was building his army rapidly and likely would be ready to fight in a month or two. We were at a distinct disadvantage. Maria and I had destroyed four of our newborns last month when we uncovered a mutiny plot. We were left with only eight, three of whom were nearing the year mark.
We'd spent the last fortnight creating new vampires. We were back up to twelve and aimed to have fifteen or sixteen within another week. It was a sign of our desperation that I was participating in the changing at all. I despised turning humans into vampires. Mostly because I was horrible at it. Maria typically succeeded in turning humans three-fourths of the time. I was lucky if one out of every five of my attempts survived. No matter how much I prepared myself beforehand, the second I tasted blood on my tongue, all my focus evaporated. In every other facet of my life, I was the strongest, the most controlled. The best fighter, the best at maintaining peace and discipline, the best teacher. But where blood was involved, I was weak. It was a humbling experience - one I preferred to avoid.
While the blow to my ego was my primary reason for hatred of changing humans, I also disliked knowing that I would ultimately be their beginning and their end. I would create them, and after a year, assuming they survived that long, I would destroy them. The yearly purge of newborns was necessary, but distasteful. All hell would break loose if covens kept their young ones; there would be too many for the land to handle. Yet it was harder to destroy those whose fates I'd determined. Since my venom initially flowed through their bodies, we were relatives in a way.
The two humans in my sight tonight were not the types I preferred to turn. Their primary emotions were greed, anger, and malice. I knew how they would turn out. They'd make fierce fighters, but would also be stubborn and hard to discipline. Their refusal to listen to my instructions would essentially ensure their destruction in battle when they came against anyone with even a modicum of skill. But one fight was really all we needed them for. Beggars cannot be choosers. Still, I held out hope that I might come across someone more worthy.
It turned out that luck was in my favor. The fools fancied themselves highway robbers. They came across a makeshift camp set up on the side of the road. One human was sleeping on the cold ground, covered only by a ratty blanket. The smoldering remains of a fire were next to him. He clutched a small bag to his chest as he slept, probably his only belongings.
I hid amongst a small group of trees about twenty feet away from the camp and watched the men approach the sleeping human. They did not even attempt to stay quiet. Amusement was added to the greed and malice emanating from them. This was a game for them. The human awoke when he heard their stomping footsteps and rapidly jumped to his feet.
"Get the hell away from me," the human said, in a quiet, surprisingly calm voice. His heart was racing, and fear was rolling off him. Yet he was controlled; I did not sense a hint of hysteria. He placd his bag on the ground between his feet and clenched his fists in front of his face, ready to defend himself.
One of the intruders laughed. "Think you can fight us, kid? Look at you. You're so scrawny that my mother could beat you up and not break a sweat." The other human guffawed loudly at his partner's witty remark. I looked at their intended victim more closely. He was hardly more than a boy, probably not more than seventeen or eighteen years old. He was tall, close to six feet, but very thin, presumably due to lack of food. He looked like he would collapse into pieces if you poked him. Despite his young age, I guessed he had been on the road for awhile. His clothes were torn and dirty, his blond hair was badly in need of a haircut, and he smelled like he had not bathed in days.
The human who had laughed at the young man threw a punch at his stomach while the other human attempted to grab the bag from his feet. The young man deftly avoided the punch and kicked the other man from the side. His fear increased, but there was determination there too. The intruders were surprised and displeased by his skill at fighting. Evidently, they preferred pummelling defenseless victims.
I couldn't have been more thrilled. This young man was exactly the kind of human I wanted for my army. He had natural skill as a fighter and, even better, he remained collected and rational in the face of danger. With immortal strength and some training, he would be outstanding.
I needed to intervene before blood was spilt. Even if I held my breath, I didn't think I could resist an open wound. I was determined to keep this one and didn't want to make the probability of success lower than it already was.
I sent enough calmness toward the group to stop the fighting. By the time I stood in front of them seconds later, all three were staring at me confused, but completely relaxed. The intruders were angry at the disruption but didn't feel the will to do anything about it. The young man was curious, suspicious, and grateful. Without saying a word, I raised my hand and struck the young man on the head with just enough force to knock him to the ground unconscious.
The other two stared at me slack-jawed, angry and fearful after I stopped emanating calm. "What'd you do that for?" one of them shouted. "He was ours. We were here first. Go find someone else to rob!"
I smiled ominously and shook my head, stepping closer to the humans. They were close enough to see my red irises shining in the moonlight. Their bravado disappeared immediately.
"What do you want? Who are you?" the one on the right stammered, his entire body trembling.
"You can have his bag and here, you can have my stuff too." The other human began pulling coins and trinkets out of his pockets and handed them to me.
"I don't want your things," I spat out. With that door closed, their fear increased. I assumed they guessed their fate. I enjoyed their terror more than I normally would. Humans who preyed on innocents deserved a taste of their own medicine. I considered playing out the hunt, toying with them a bit, but decided against it. Time was limited, and I wanted to be able to concentrate on turning the young man.
I grabbed both humans by their arms, crushing a few bones in the process. I pulled the man who first reached for the young man's bag to me first, placing my lips against his jugular vein as he screamed and begged for mercy. I kept my grip firm on the man who threw the first punch, forcing him to watch as I drank the blood from his partner. When my first meal was empty, I turned to the other man.
"Please! No! Please don't kill me! I swear I won't tell anyone about you. I'll do anything. Please! Just let me go!" he begged, tugging against the arm holding him. I could smell salt from the tears streaming from his eyes and the sourness of urine dribbling down his leg.
"I'm sorry," I said disdainfully. "But you're expendable. It's him I want." I motioned to the unconscious young man. With that, I grabbed him by the waist and bit into his neck. I wasn't very thirsty. I actually felt rather full and sloshy from the other human and the lingering blood from yesterday's meal. But as soon as the exquisite, warm liquid was on my tongue, I drank as though I hadn't fed in weeks. I threw the body to the ground as soon as I was finished and turned to the young man.
I'd made a calculated risk in choosing to feed immediately before I attempted to turn a human. It was generally easier to stop drinking if I was already full. Of course, the previous body showed that that was not always the case. And having the taste of blood so recently in my mouth, I innately craved more. Still, my previous successful attempts at turning had occurred when I had fed shortly beforehand.
The young man was lying unconscious on the ground. I worried for a second that I hit his head too hard, but was reassured by the strong pulse and steady heartbeat. I realized that I didn't know his name. Not that it mattered, I supposed. If I was successful, I would find it out soon enough. And if I failed, it would be easier to pretend he'd never existed. I knelt next to his body and pondered the optimal method to bite and release. I decided to forgo the neck. Blood spurted from the jugular, practically begging me to keep drinking. A smaller vein would be easier. The transformation would take longer and would be slightly more torturous. But since the human's pain would be irrelevant if he was dead, my ability to stop took precedence.
I pushed up the sleeve of his right arm and placed my mouth on the inside of his warm wrist, next to the palm of his hand, purposely not breathing. I couldn't give in to the scent. I willed myself to count to three and stop. No swallowing; it was over if I swallowed.
I closed my eyes and bit deeply into the wrist, cutting into the vein. Blood flowed into my mouth. The taste was wonderful, pure ecstasy. It never grew old. I didn't break grip with his wrist, but neither did I allow any blood to trickle down my throat. The fire grew in protest as the seconds passed. One... My vision was clouded with red. I thought the fire would engulf my entire head if I didn't quench the thirst. Two... The blood rolled along my tongue. I savored the flavor, much as an oenophile would treasure the vineyard's specialty. Just one swallow wouldn't hurt. No. No! I could not give into weakness. Three... I wrenched my mouth from the man's wrist, tossing his body several feet away in an urgent need for distance. I buried my head in the grass and focused on breathing in the clean, reedy, bloodless scent.
Not surprisingly, the pain from the venom coursing through the young man's veins jolted him into consciousness. He was screaming now at the top of his lungs. I could hear him behind me rolling in the grass. He was far more terrified of this unexpected pain than he had been of the would-be attackers. I could not let him continue making such a racket without risking discovery. I took another deep breath of human-free air and turned back to him. I held my breath once again. The venom made his blood smell less appealing, but it would be several more hours until the change made his blood entirely unappetizing. I picked him up easily and began running to our hide-out. I held my hand over his mouth until his screams became muffled murmurs that human ears could not detect. He stared at me in shock as we ran. I wondered if he was more surprised by the pain or by the speed of my steps.
When I arrived at the barn where we resided, I dropped the young man off in the cellar under the care of one of the yearlings. There he could scream to his failing heart's content for the next three to four days. Pleased with my successful evening, I left the cellar eager to find Maria and celebrate. I would handle the new recruit later.
*I hope you liked my first chapter of Jasper Tales! Please R&R. I love hearing from you!
*As I said at the beginning this is a slight detour from canon. I envision this to be Peter, if you hadn't guessed. It says in Midnight Sun that Maria turned Peter, not Jasper. But he easily could have without changing anything important in the story. I wrote this story before re-reading this detail in Midnight Sun, but I liked my twist so well that I decided to keep it.
*I did my best with the timing. The Twilight Lexicon guideline says that Jasper left Maria in the late 1800s. I am sure this is wrong. In Eclipse, Jasper says he was with Maria for about 80-90 years. I believe it says in Midnight Sun that Peter was turned in the 1940s. I think Stephenie got her timing off in the early draft. He would have to be turned in the 1930s at the latest for the story to make sense. It says in Eclipse that Peter ran away with Charlotte when he was 3 years old. He came back 5 years later to get Jasper. Jasper stayed with them for a few years before wandering on his own and eventually meeting Alice in 1948. So I set my story in Depression era 1930s.
