A/N: Okay. one more chapter, and then I have to get to work on my final week of summer school. Eeek.
Jasper liked to watch people.
His gift was often his curse. Really, it depended on the emotional climate. He liked mornings in parks on cloudy days when he didn't have to worry about the sun. Then, he could watch the early joggers—their minds were among the most peaceful, and their pulse was loud and pleasant in his ears. They smelled delectable. Blood and endorphins made for a savory mix.
He didn't always enjoy crowds. They could be overwhelming. Mobs weren't pleasant. That much rage and vitriol concentrated in one area could be too much, even for his advanced mind and control. It did horrible things to him; made him a horrible thing. High schools were nothing short of torture. Teenagers felt everything in extremes—anger, lust, love, angst. All of it came off them in waves, and there were so many of them in one place, it was incredible the humans couldn't feel it. When he was around that many teenagers, he felt confused and pissed and eager all at once. It left him with too little control over his own actions.
But, other crowds could be pleasant. Jasper liked malls. People were generally in a good mood when they were shopping and hanging out with friends. Here and there, he could pick out an exasperated husband, an envious window shopper, or a cranky toddler, but mostly, the place was awash in a happy buzz.
As he lounged on a bench in the center of the place, Jasper played a game, trying to separate individual moods and match them to people with the assistance of his superior senses. He picked out a wave of euphoria and spotted a pair of young lovers down the walkway, strolling hand-in-hand, with eyes only for each other. He listened to them whisper sweetly in each other's ears and heard the uptick in their heartbeats when they kissed.
A spike of giddiness drew his attention to a shop in eyesight. He saw a young man through the window eyeing a lovely dress. His eyes were wide and eager, his mouth turned up in pleasure. He looked around surreptitiously as he pulled the dress off the rack and held it against his long, lean torso. Oh, the thrill of a good find.
Somewhere else in the mall, the inevitable happened. Human flesh was so vulnerable. Someone pricked a finger on a pin, or a child fell and skinned his knees, or a teenager picked off a scab.
Going amongst humans as often as he did for as long as he'd been alive, the scent that wafted across his nose didn't take him by surprise. He clenched his hands into fists as the first wave crashed over him, a violent churn of thirst and bloodlust. His body tensed, ready for the chase, coiled to spring, and suddenly, the milling humans were prey. His eyes darted from one to the other, assessing. There was a man leaning against the wall right next to the a mall-employee-only entrance. It would take milliseconds to drag him down the quiet hallway. Jasper's mouth filled with venom.
But he was not an unthinking beast, he reminded himself. It had been centuries since he was a newborn—all instinct and no control. He stopped breathing, and that helped clear his mind a bit. Soon, he said to his thirst, his parched throat. He wouldn't hunt like a starved animal. He was more civilized than that. There would be a hunt, but it would be on his terms.
After a few moments, the scent of fresh blood wasn't so overwhelming. The flow had been quickly staunched. Some part of his mind still ached to follow the trail, the flow of the scent. Who was the human at the end of that road? What would they taste like? How good would it be if he gave in and hunted right then and there? His thirst could be slaked in a minute.
The hunt, he reminded himself again, was inevitable, but there were much more interesting ways to go about it. He'd already set up what he needed. He hadn't necessarily been planning to begin today, but today was as good a day as any. Why not?
He rubbed his throat as though he could soothe the scratch. Okay, then.
Taking in a deep breath, Jasper opened himself fully to the scents and emotions of the people all around him. As always, there was that pang in his chest. With his gifts, he would feel everything his prey felt.
Poor humans. What must it be like to have such uncertain lives, and the fragile skin and bones to go with it. Their sweet, sweet blood called to perhaps the only predator they could not subdue. They were so helpless, and most of them never realized it.
Today, one of them would.
In full control of himself now, Jasper stood. He ran a hand through his hair, a decidedly human gesture, and rearranged his features to something more inviting. It was Christmastime. He could pass as a harried young man with no clue what to buy for his loved ones.
It wasn't the kind of hunt his fellows enjoyed. It was a different kind of thrill, but it satisfied his nature.
He took his place amongst all the other holiday shoppers, blending in, waiting for that random inkling. He never knew who he was looking for when he hunted; what would draw him to a person; what would get his attention.
His first stop was a perfume stand. He ducked his head, as though examining the shapes of the bottles. Really, he was listening to the salesgirl trying to help a hapless boyfriend find something good for his girl. Another salesperson eyed Jasper, but by then, the sickening scent of synthetic fragrance choked him. He turned away. He liked his prey to smell like humans.
As he walked, he picked up the familiar pang of lust—attraction—from very close by. When it followed him, he glanced at the reflection of a shop window, and caught a glimpse of a man whose eyes were glued to his ass.
Amused, Jasper stopped in front of another stand—calendars this time. Sure enough, the man stopped too, pretending to browse nearby. Jasper waited. He felt the twist of nerves from the man. He heard him sigh, mutter, "chickenshit," under his breath, and then walk away.
If he'd only known his cowardice had saved him.
As he walked into a more open area, he felt something very small barrel into his legs. He heard an, "oof," and looked down to find a tiny girl on her butt, staring dazedly up at him. Solid as he was, running into him was like running into a wall.
Jasper crouched. "Whoa there. Are you okay, angel?"
She really was a cherub of a girl with rounded cheeks, red from running, the blood pulsing beneath her skin. She looked uncertain as she stared at him with big blue eyes. It was as though she were trying to decide whether or not to be frightened. She blinked owlishly. She couldn't have been more than three.
"Don't cry precious." He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Where are your Momma or Daddy?"
The little girl sniffed and raised her head bravely. "Iono where Bella is. I runned. I didn't mean to. I was looking for Santa. I got esscited."
"Oh, Santa. Well, I can't blame you there. I know where Santa is. I can take you there. And I bet Bella is there too." He offered his gloved hand. The girl's face brightened as she took it.
Children were so trusting. He could lead her anywhere he wanted, and she'd likely go without trouble. Their conversations were so much more interesting—sparked with a mixture of reality and whimsical fantasy. The things this little one could tell him would no doubt be fascinating.
He breathed in. Jasper couldn't say he didn't enjoy the scent the child exuded. Children's blood had a purity that was unrivaled. It could be a delicacy.
"Cynthia!"
They'd almost gotten to Santa's Village when Jasper felt terror and heard quick footsteps coming toward them. He turned to see a young woman running full tilt through the mall in their direction. She grasped the child, yanking her away from Jasper and up into her arms. As soon as the child was secure, she stumbled several steps backward, putting distance between them and Jasper.
Jasper cocked his head, taking the woman in. She was a contradiction, he noted. She wore combat boots, black jeans, a leather jacket, and floppy, green Santa hat with elf ears. Her face spoke of youth—early twenties, if that—but her eyes were old. Of course, that might have had something to do with with the fact they were narrowed at him, sparked with the fear and fire he felt roiling all around her.
"Bella." The little girl wrapped her arms around Bella's neck.
"What the hell did you think you were doing, you sick bastard," the woman—Bella—snarled at Jasper.
He cocked an eyebrow, bemused at her ferocity. She looked like an avenging angel, ready to tear him apart, bless her soul. "Your, ah, sister? She was lost. She said you were on your way to see Santa. I thought maybe you'd be looking for her here."
"The man saved me," Cynthia informed her, face serious. "I was lost."
Jasper locked eyes with the woman and tilted his head. Inwardly, he wrapped his will around her emotion. He got a handle on her fear and distrust and turned it down. He filled that space with a sense of ease.
It took a moment for him to realize it wasn't working as well as it should have, as well as it always did. He had to work hard to keep surprise off his face.
She was fighting it. She was fighting the wave of serenity he was sending her. The fear and unease had lessened, but it hadn't faded. She was holding onto it as though suspicion was ingrained in her—part of her very being.
Bella shifted the little girl in her arms, so she was even further away from Jasper. Her stance was defensive. "You were going to see Santa?" she asked. He could hear in her voice that she didn't believe him for a second.
Jasper put on an easy smile. He breathed out subtly. The fragrance of his breath—of any vampire's breath—had a bewitching, befuddling affect. He leaned in slightly. "I told you. We were looking for you. I wasn't going to hurt her."
Bella blinked sporadically and looked him up and down. She cleared her throat. "Thank you," she said. "She got away from me."
"I runned," Cynthia said. "I forgot to slow down. There were a lot of people. Mr. Man found me and helped." She nodded enthusiastically.
Bella huffed. "Yeah, I heard you, Cyn."
Jasper hid a smirk. Doubt still shrouded the woman's emotions. A human with self-preservation instincts. Well, that was novel.
Bella side-eyed him before she looked back to Cynthia. "You could have been hurt. You could have been kidnapped, you know that?"
She was still talking about him; Jasper could tell. She looked at Jasper and took another step backward. "Thanks," she said as though she didn't mean it. "Thank you for your help."
He nodded. "Happy to be of assistance." He met her eyes, challenging her, letting a bit of the danger seep through his practiced features. Her heartbeat sped and her breath caught, but she didn't flinch despite her fright.
"Do you think I could buy you some lunch?" Jasper asked just to see what she would do. Some women liked dangerous men, after all.
Her "no" was quick and emphatic. It was clear she wanted to be away from him as quickly as possible. "We have somewhere to be. Thanks for your help."
With that, she turned and walked off, her gait too quick to be casual. "Bella," he heard the little girl say when they were out of human earshot. "I wanna see Santa."
"Ah, not a chance, kiddo." Bella huffed. "I'd get the heck out of here if I could, but your mom should be here in another twenty minutes. Guess we'll settle on the other side of the mall for now."
"But, why?" Cynthia asked, whining. "You said. You said we'd see Santa."
"Because your Bella knows a threat when she sees one, little angel," he murmured to himself. He chuckled. He'd been truthful when he told Bella he had no intention of harming the child.
On the other hand, there was a plot forming in his mind. The woman had intrigued him—poor, brave, child.
The hunt was on.
A/N: I love my docs, and I love my ducks.
How is everyone out there in fanfic land?