Chapter 2: Destiny (EPOV)
Obviously I was mistaken. As I carried Jasper in my arms, pressing his destroyed, limp body against my breast, I smiled calmly, because I was not alone. Someone would share this gruesome misery with me. You humans have this simple saying: A sorrow shared is a sorrow halved. Though I did not believe that my sorrow was halved, I thought that maybe a sorrow shared was as much as destiny would grant me.
My mind wandered to the distant place it seemed to prefer at the moment. When God or gods did not exist, then neither did destiny. The ancient Greeks, as well as the ancient Romans, believed in destiny. The Romans called it fatum. I cannot recall where I read this, but you can trust me, it is correct. Three goddesses took care of this fatum. The superstitious and – ha, examine this word closely – fatuitous Greeks named them Moirae, the Romans Parcae. They were destiny personified. When a human was born, they determined its destiny. There was no escape, no matter what endeavors the human shouldered. A human did not fulfill his destiny, it just was fulfilled. It may sound cruel to you and it surely leaves no room for this thing called free will. But to me the prospect of three goddesses who determined my fate – good or bad – seemed sweeter than honey at this instant. If destiny existed, I could wallow in my pain and condemn the goddesses who chastised me so unforgivingly. But there was no destiny, and so the responsibility for my own and Jasper's life rested like stones on my aching shoulders.
I came to a stop on a sharp cliff, the wood lying outstretched and reticent beneath my feet, and looked up in the sky. The full moon seemed to have captured nearly the entire firmament. It was almost obscene. I looked down and examined Jasper's blood-crusted, raw features. His eyes seemed to be burned out and the fire had sealed his lips. The remnants of his hair were adhered to his skull. It was horrible. "Jasper," I whispered, but there was no reaction. At this point, I panicked.
My mind spun and I lost all common sense. I knelt down hastily, tremulously placing his body on the ground, while tears dwelled in my eyes. I patted his cheek frantically, again whispering his name, then I started yelling, "Jasper, wake up. If you are dead, I will kill you." Wild giggles sputtered from my lips, tears from my eyes. "You son of a southern whore, do not dare leave me alone. I cannot be alone. God does not exist." This thought possessed me. I grabbed his shoulders with both hands and shook him violently. The back of his head bumped against the cold stones, but apart from that he did not move. I let go of his body, my mind raced about would I could do, my eyes desperately searched the surroundings as if the answer lay somewhere between the firs. Then I knew.
I bit my right wrist, the borrowed blood started to flow and I forced Jasper's mouth open with my free hand. His lips cracked with an awful noise, but it did not matter because now he was forced to yield. His instincts – just like mine – could not die. They would betray him and work for my benefit. I placed my wrist above his mouth and watched with wildly glowing eyes as the blood dripped between his lips. He winced like a man possessed, moaning, sobbing dryly once, then his left hand darted out and his fingers clasped around my right forearm, strong as iron. He pulled my wrist down and sunk his teeth into my flesh. He growled more aggressively than ever before and his dark, blood-crusted eyes opened abruptly. I flinched as I saw the ferocity and hatred in them, not understanding why he should hate me, but otherwise I did not move, while I felt the blood draining rapidly from my body. My visions slowly started to blur, but I could see that his features, as well as his burned and battered body, had already begun to heal. Flesh assembled itself morbidly, new skin began to grow. The borrowed blood of a vampire is the strongest remedy.
Suddenly Jasper sat up, wrapped his no longer broken right arm around the upper part of my body and pulled me close, his teeth still in my flesh. I could barely move, because a vampire does not function without blood supply. I could only hold myself up because of his arm that clamped tightly to me. So I just looked into his now strangely calm eyes. He let go of my wrist and leaned forward until his lips were only inches away from my ear. It was uncomfortable. I was frightened, because while I had only pondered about whether or not I had lost my sanity, I realized that Jasper was far beyond such thoughts. While I stumbled on the rim of the abyss, Jasper had fallen off. I shuddered helplessly. Jasper merely aspirated: "I hate you, Edward. No mercy for the merciless." Then he sunk his teeth deep into my throat.
The Pact (JPOV)
He feels Edward's blood stream down his throat, tastes the coppery, but sweet flavor. He knows the unique taste of vampire blood well, has savored it countless times. But the hatred that he has never felt before makes this moment inimitable. You denied me mercy. He claws his fingers into Edward's thick hair to hold him still, because he begins to struggle. Too late, brother. Your blood is now mine. Edward tries to push him away with both hands, but his movements are weak, no challenge for him. But something else is. So he tries to block the panic and the pain that Edward feels, because he knows that they could make him stop. "Jasper, cut it out. Please," Edward croaks, but he adamantly presses him to the stony ground with the weight and the growing strength of his body. He doesn't let go of Edward's throat. You're not the only one who knows how to deny mercy. He had learned that a long time ago. He remembers the humans he killed when he was a human soldier, he also remembers the humans and vampires he killed when he was an undead soldier. He had learned how to kill mercilessly despite experiencing his victims feelings so clearly. Just like he experiences Edward's now.
He's calm now though the agony in his heart is still there. The stream of blood gets weaker every second, but he won't stop, because he wants every little bit. Edward yanks his naked shoulders feebly, while he still grips his hair. He hears the agitated noises of the forest animals that witness him drawing the "life" out of Edward. Edward's motions die, his arms fall to his sides.
"Jasper," Edward's voice is merely a whisper, "we have to avenge them. We owe them revenge. Without it, they truly will cease to exist." His breathless voice becomes imploring like that of a priest, "You cannot accomplish this on your own. You will need my help. If you kill me now, Jasper, you will not be able to avenge them. This would be treachery." The last word floats heavily in the cold night air. But he doesn't stop stealing Edward's blood until her face pops into his mind. Alice. Her lips, eyes, hair. He hears her sweet laughter, smells her soft body. He pulls his teeth back and sits up. Edward's blurred eyes look at him, full of pain and pleading. He calmly examines the other vampire's appearance. Edward is naked and his body seems leaner than usual, almost scrawny. He sees dark patches where Edward has been wounded and takes in that Edward's hair is dull, rumpled and partly covered with crusted blood. The wound that he has caused in Edward's throat is deep and still bleeding, though the trickle of the red liquid ceases bit by bit. At least Edward's body won't pose a threat to him.
He stands up, turns his back to Edward and stares at the full moon. He once loved it. He thinks he won't love again. He tries to think clearly for a moment. It's difficult. Alice. Revenge. Treachery. Fire. Flames. Ashes. Mercy. Agony. The humans had killed her. He doesn't know how they had done it, because he had been unable to see. He had been useless. Unable. Weak. He can't undo it, but he knows now that he has something in common with Edward. Revenge. That is the most important thing at the moment. Everything else has to wait. He puts a finger on his lower lip and says quietly, forming the words slowly, "Edward… I'll kill you for your selfishness. No mercy. Not now… but someday. After we've had our revenge. Deal?" He turns again and looks Edward straight in the eye. Edward still lies on the ground like a rag doll, unable to move, but he returns his look. A strange smile plays on Edward's dry lips. Don't know why. His pain and his fear vanish. Merciful relief. Then he croaks, "We have a pact then."