Highway to Hell

by Bella'sExecutioner

Lesson one: Family is everything. Lesson two: Never leave your gun in the car. Lesson three: Sometimes lesson two is the more important one to remember.

4. Chapter 3: January 10th, 2010

A/N: Welcome back. Thanks for reading! I would apologize for taking too long to update but A) I write really long chapters so that takes time and B) I can only work with the little free time that I have and the cooperation of my brain. I do want to thank you all for your patience and for returning to read more!

Twilight and Supernatural belong to people other than me.

Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and review. It means a lot to me.

To MissCarissa…I hope you enjoy being a baddie. :)

Thanks to my prereaders. You gals help motivate me. And you are both made of awesome.

And thanks to my good friend and beta TwilightMomofTwo for your hard work to make this readable.

I am interested to hear your theories on what is going on and what will happen next. Feel free to review or PM me with any questions you might have.

As always this fic is rated M because it deals with mature topics. Death. Blood. Drinking of blood. Ghosts. Naked guys…etc. You've been warned.

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

"I finally see the dawn arrivin'

I see beyond the road I'm drivin'

It's a bright horizon and I'm awaken

I see myself in a brand new way

The sun is shinin', the clouds are breakin'

Cause I can't lose now, there's no game to play."

(Don't look back, Boston)

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

Then:

(May 15th, 1992)

"Carlisle, you're a damn fool if you keep that kid alive," Eleazar slurred, aiming the mouth of his beer bottle in the direction of the sleeping two year old on the couch.

"I've warned you before to not talk like that around my son," I reminded him calmly.

I gave him the opportunity to correct his attitude due to his inebriation, but my patience was growing thin the longer we sat in this hotel room.

He laughed, tossing the remainder of the liquid in the brown bottle down his throat.

"Aren't you Suzy-fucking-homemaker all of the sudden?"

I kicked the chair out from under him, punching his laryngeal prominencewith enough force to shut him up but not kill him. The bottle hit the ground with a loud clunk. His arms flailed about and he gasped for breath as if he was being choked.

"Listen to me, you worthless piece of shit. I don't give a damn what you think about the way I live my life, and I sure as fuck am not here to waste my time talking to you about family."

He made a gargling sound in his throat, his eyes growing wide with the anticipation of more pain.

"I want the answers that I'm looking for and that's it. You don't owe me your allegiance but you do owe me your respect. If you so much as whisper a negative thought around that kid," I motioned toward Edward with my head without removing my eyes from his, "I will end our arrangement."

The threat hung in the air between us for a handful of seconds. He continued to pant as I stood slowly, my hand reaching automatically for the .45 tucked in my jacket pocket.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, throwing his hands up in surrender.

I nodded curtly.

"Now, about that friend you have in Italy…"

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

Now:

(January 10th, 2010)

Lesson three: Sometimes lesson two is the more important one to remember.

Edward PoV: (Lone Pine, California)

I fed the quarters into the slot on the soda machine. Each slid down with a monotonous thud. The fourth quarter was rejected and spit out into the coin return. I picked it up and shoved it in to the slot a second time. Again the machine spit it out. I repeated the step five more times. I didn't think about it. I knew that eventually the machine would have to accept the quarter.

And it did.

Squeaky wheels, I thought dryly.

I pressed the button and the can thumped against the tray as it was dispensed.

I cracked the soda open, shivering in my thin jacket as I surveyed the parking lot. Who the hell ever heard of Lone Pine, California? There wasn't much to write home about around here. It was a typical little mountain, truck stop town. I couldn't see the mountains in the dark but I could feel the freezing winds, warning that there was snow a few miles out of town.

I walked to the edge of the parking lot and looked around. It was a clear night. Quiet. Every business in town closed up by nightfall so it was just me and the stars out at the moment.

I took a sip of the soda and sighed.

Time for the nightly pity party.

I had plans once upon a time. It was the one constant that got me through the years of hunting with my family. That one day I could do something else…something different…something more with my life.

And for a second I believed it was happening. I was going to be a doctor, just like Carlisle was.

Once upon a time.

I had so many plans for my life just a few short weeks ago. If someone had shown up in Chicago back then and told me that by January I'd be standing in a parking lot in California, watching the stars and worrying about the next hunt waiting for us, I would have shot them.

It was bad luck to jinx happiness, after all.

It wasn't exactly the most desirable life to return to, but it was the only life I'd ever known.

That was his favorite come-back, I remembered.

Whenever I was finally pissed off enough to confront him, back when I was a kid, Carlisle always reminded me that I didn't know how to be anything but a hunter.

I leaned against the mailbox at the curb and continued to sip my soda.

"So, this was your plan?" I asked the empty night. I pictured Carlisle standing out in the middle of the street grinning at me like a cat. He'd be nodding his head in satisfaction at how easily I jumped straight back into this world.

I couldn't deny it. Even before I found Tanya lying dead in our bed I felt the pull to come back out on the road with Jazz. Be it some misguided sense of duty or some thrill of control, it didn't matter.

And now I'm trapped here just like him. I pictured the scene of Tanya's death again, imagining how sharply the pain must have cut into Carlisle when he found Esme. I knew, without a doubt, that I would track whatever demon was responsible to the end of the world.

Rule number seventeen: Vengeance can seal your fate.

"You win," I muttered to the phantom in the street. "Asshole."

I froze as I raised the can to my lips for another drink.

I sensed movement behind me.

That lifetime of training kicked in on instinct. Every sound, sight and movement around me was narrowed down to the focus of the sensation of being followed.

Something was stalking up behind me without making a sound.

I stood my ground, not even bothering to turn around. Whatever was coming wasn't charging in for an attack. In the hope of having the element of surprise, my hand moved slowly down toward the pocket of my jeans where I kept my pocket knife.

I caught a scent on the wind and relaxed completely realizing that it was just my brother walking out to find me.

Damn, he can creep up on the dead.

"You coming back inside?" Jazz's voice disturbed the peaceful quiet of the night.

I nodded reluctantly. I kept my eyes trained on the same spot in the middle of the street.

His retreat to the room was just as soundless as his approach had been.

Jasper was good at that. Sneaking in. He had a gift with subtlety that served him well. Not in action but in thought, reaction, even emotion. Jasper was skilled at altering your mood without you even realizing he was the one in control.

He was the one in charge in that moment. I just wanted to sit out here and feel the rage consume me. I wanted to chuck this can at the street and howl with anger at the man who turned me into…whatever the hell I am.

But Jazz needed me.

How did I know he needed me? Not because he came right out and told me that he did. But he was concerned. He worried over me. His first course of action after thinking Dad was in trouble was to find me.

I narrowed my eyes at the spot where Carlisle stood. For a second I would have sworn I felt something staring back.

I threw the can in the recycle bin next to the vending machine on my way back to the room-unable to shake the eerie vibe of being watched.

I missed a step at the door as I noticed the most threatening looking little orange bottle of pills waiting for me on the ground.

Fucking Ju Ju pills, I mentally grumbled.

I stared down at the bottle like I could have a battle of wills with an inanimate object. There was no escaping the delivery system that brought the fresh set to my door.

A new bottle had found it's way into my life every single one of the last ten days. And in true voodoo like creepiness, it was like the bottle was becoming more daring with each new arrival. In the past I would find the refill tucked away in my medicine cabinet or in my duffle bag while on the road. The pills seemed to be raising the ante now.

I suspected finding them laying out here in the middle of nowhere was a challenge.

Never challenge a Cullen.

In one fluid motion I leaned down, picked up the cursed pills and chucked the bottle toward the roof of the motel without a second thought.

I didn't regret one moment of being off the poisoned-pill regiment.

I hadn't noticed any change since leaving Phoenix. There weren't any fluctuations in my moods that were outside of the norm. Or as Jazz would have put it, "You've always been a moody bitch, Edward". No physical or outward signs that stopping the medication had caused me bodily harm. I was thinking clearly, no blackouts or sudden shifts in desire. All in all it was starting to look like the pills were some kind of elaborate placebo. Hell, I wouldn't have put that sort of trick past Carlisle. It could have been some fucked up exercise in "following Dad's orders without question". That would certainly have explained why Jazz never had to take the pills.

I had to keep reminding myself that it was still too early to determine what, if any, affect the medication did have on my body, though. I'd been taking the pills every day for nineteen years. It wasn't easy to determine when any such differences would appear.

I pulled the room key from my pocket and unlocked the door. I could hear the shower running and Jazz singing at the top of his lungs.

"Risin' up to the challenge of our rival! And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night…and he's watchin' us all with the eye of the tiger!"

I laughed. I could just see him in the shower, covered in soap suds doing his Ferris Bueller impersonation and fisting-pumping to the invisible drum beat. Despite the shitty circumstances that brought us together, it was nice to have my brother around.

See, I thought. There he goes, shifting my mood again.

I shook my head, changing the channel on the TV to the local news. Well, I doubted the town was big enough for a news station, but it was a news station nearby.

"Get ready for continued snow on into the weekend," the weatherman reported.

I grimaced. I knew that technically I was from a cold, wet town but I had always hated snow.

"Did he just say snow?" Jazz called from the bathroom. He stood in the doorway drying off and the steam from his shower fogged over the TV screen.

"Yep," I confirmed with a frown.

"I hate snow," he grumbled.

"It is the asshole of weather conditions," I agreed.

Jazz strutted between me and the TV, wearing nothing but a smile.

"Dude!" I complained, shielding my eyes from a second glance at the part of his anatomy that he lovingly called "The Little General".

"Don't bitch cause you're jealous, Princess," he teased. He puckered his lips, blowing me a kiss.

"I don't see much to be jealous of. Let me get my microscope…"

A pair of his used underwear landed across my face.

"Ah! Dude! That's disgusting!" I jumped up, running to the bathroom.

Jazz laughed.

I dry-heaved over the sink for a second and then pulled my toothbrush out, slathering it with toothpaste.

"Uh!" I shouted as I scrubbed my tongue furiously. "My mouth was open!"

That only caused him to laugh harder.

"Why do you have to be such a gross ass pig?" I whined, stomping back to my bed. My tongue clucked against the roof of my mouth. His funk was all over my mouth.

"You know, I'd be offended by that. But I know what I did in those boxers." He winked at me and started laughing again.

I groaned. "What in the hell do women see in you?"

He shrugged, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers. "An easy lay."

I half laughed for a second before I realized he was serious.

"You don't actually believe that, do you? Jazz, you have lots to offer…"

"Jesus, Oprah. It was joke!" he huffed and turned around to finish dressing.

"Jerk," I muttered.

"Bitch," he added.

"Why do you always do that?" he asked, flopping on to his bed.

"Do what?" I prompted for further explanation. I wasn't aware that I was doing anything but watching the news.

"You're a bleeding heart, bro," he sighed.

I glared at the TV but didn't respond to his condescending remark.

If someone else were to call me compassionate I might be inclined to take it as a compliment. When a Cullen called someone compassionate it was a joke. Being kind to everyone without provocation meant you were a sucker. A mark.

And we were con artists.

Carlisle had been too trusting that night that changed all of our lives. If he had just gone home, not waited for Elizabeth to wake up…

"Is that why you were so quick to move in with that chick?"

"Tanya." I spoke through tight lips.

I glanced over at him.

He was sprawled out on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pants. He had his right ankle crossed over his left and his arms tucked under his head. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world. He reminded me of his teenage self.

The guy who wasn't afraid of anything.

"Yeah…Tanya. Did you feel like you had to take care of her, too?"

I didn't like the direction of this conversation. I was still haunted by nightmares of Tanya's death every night. The last thing I wanted to do was psychoanalyze my relationship with her.

"How did you get those scars?" I threw out the idea, hoping it was his personal white elephant.

Also, I was curious about what had happened to him.

I could easily see twenty marks on his chest, and sides, even on his arms that he didn't have seven months ago. He also had a few new tattoos. I needed to know the how's and why's that came with those scars.

The tattoos, I understood. We had matching tattoos for protection. An anti-possession symbol was inked above our hearts on our chests and prevented demonic spirits from entering our bodies. A cross was etched on our right wrists, making our hands impossible for a demon to shake without feeling pain. The last tattoo was imprinted on our left ankles and was a mystery to all of us. It was a small intricately scrawled letter V with a coat of arms placed in the center. The symbols of a stag, a crown, a cup and a dagger were on the crest.

For as long as I could remember we had shared the same brands on our skin, but now he had two new ones. One I recognized as a devil's trap. It was on his collar bone just high enough to peek out every now and then from the top of his shirt collars. A pentagram encased in a circle, the devil's trap was commonly drawn on objects where you wanted to trap a demon. Floors, ceilings, boxes…I'd never seen one as a tattoo before, though. It meant that Jazz wanted to hold in whatever evil forces might possess him.

That scared the shit out of me.

Demons weren't the most common of supernatural creatures, but they were the most horrific to encounter. Demons were literally born of a life in Hell. They had to claw their way out of hell in order to roam the world of the living. They were truly the stuff of nightmares. The only real demonic possession that I had experienced was five years ago in Detroit. A sick, twisted hell-dweller found its way into Carlisle and started kidnapping little girls. Jazz drew a devil's trap on the ground, ensnaring the demon within the circle long enough for us to tie Carlisle to a chair and exorcise the damn thing. I saw how ferociously the devil inside my father fought to break free of that prison. I couldn't imagine feeling that locked away inside my own body.

His other new tattoo was of an apple. That one made me scratch my head. I couldn't come up with any mythological references to apples other than Genesis. Even if the symbol stood for original sin, the seven deadly sins or even just sin in general, I couldn't figure out what possible use an apple tattoo could be.

But even with that question in my mind, the tattoos I understood. The scars were what bothered me.

Jazz didn't seem bothered at all with my conversational one-eighty.

"Okay," he said, rising to my challenge. "If that's the way you wanna play it."

I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling. He would be willing to share if it meant he could make me uncomfortable.

"Well, there's actually more than one story in that," he started to explain. "The ones on my arms are from a showdown with some ghouls in Mississippi. I went poking around the old safe house Dad has just outside of Baton Rouge. You remember that place?"

He shot me a questioning look just as I cast my eyes back in his direction. I nodded. The house looked abandoned but was stocked with all sorts of supernatural weapons. Dad had won in a game of poker from some of his old hunting buddies.

"Ghouls? Wow, we haven't found any of those since…"

"That week in Missouri, I know," he agreed, returning his eyes to the ceiling. "Anyway, I thought maybe Dad would be down there. The guy never was big on working out his feelings. You leaving probably did a real number on his pride."

"Us leaving," I corrected.

"So, there were ghouls squatting in the house," he pressed on without acknowledging my remark. "And they got the drop on me."

My eyebrows rose in disbelief. "No shit?"

He smirked. "Yeah well, in my defense they were posing as you and Dad. I guess there was a picture of us in one of the old boxes of junk there."

"I thought ghouls only take on the shape of the last person they killed?"

"Yeah. I guess these guys didn't need to bother with that. They were pretty starved. Probably saw me coming and figured it would be a good way to pull me in. Worked too. The one that looked like you had me convinced that they killed you and Dad."

"But you knew I was safe in Chicago."

"Did I?" he asked, looking over at me. His eyes were filled with honest hurt. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach as I met his eyes. No, he probably didn't know. I hadn't bothered checking in with either him or Dad to tell them that I was doing okay in Chicago.

"Anyway, the one that looked like Dad slashed the shit out of my forearms. The one that looked like you kept digging his fingers into the wounds and licking my blood from his hands."

My stomach twisted at the thought. "Ghouls are such parasites."

He nodded in agreement.

"How'd you get out of that one?"

He was quiet for a minute. He just stared straight up and blocked everything else out. Then all at once he blinked and went on with the story.

"So, the scars on my abdomen are a whole other story."

I hung my head as he went into another tale of risking his life on his own. There was an entirely different emotion bubbling up inside of me as he recounted how he gained his physical scars. One that I wasn't particularly interested in dealing with right now. Or ever in all honesty.

I recognized it as guilt…and maybe something more. Something I didn't have a name for yet.

"And there I was, backed up against a stone wall with this deranged zombie chick charging at me with a rusty pair of hedge clippers, and let me tell you zombie bitches are strong."

I smiled at the way he described such terrifying events. Jazz could pour levity into any moment. I envied him that.

"She got in a few good hits, as you can see from the defacement of my awesome six-pack," he grinned over at me.

I laughed.

"What about the one on your cheek?" I asked, nodding my head toward the mark that was two shades lighter than the rest of the skin on his face.

His grin fell. His eyes went cold.

"It's your turn," he said with a detached voice. "I've shared two of my secrets. Now you tell me. Why did you move in with that girl?"

I didn't want to talk about it. But looking into his eyes made that new emotion twist my insides into submission.

"Isn't that what people do when they fall in love?" I asked stupidly.

Jazz shrugged. "I guess. But…how long did you know her before you moved in together?"

I frowned. "Three months."

"Three months? You decided to live with that girl after only knowing her for three months? It takes you longer to order a salad."

I sighed. "I'm…particular," I said in response to his teasing me about my ordering habits.

"Exactly," he replied with a shift of his shoulders. "So you knew you wanted to spend every single minute with her. You wanted to see her the second you woke up? Have her drink out of the milk carton and all that shit?"

I realized that Jazz was just as clueless as I was with what living with other people entailed.

I nodded just the same.

"Wow," he whispered in obvious astonishment.

"It just…sort of happened. She asked me to go to an apartment showing with her and…I don't know…we were signing a lease before I knew it."

I could see that day so clearly in my head. Tanya was giddy with excitement when I agreed on the apartment.

"I was so…happy," I admitted softly.

"Bedtime," Jazz announced suddenly.

He flicked off the lamp on the nightstand between our beds and the room was dark except for the TV. I leaned over and turned off the device. There was a sour taste in my mouth as I heard him shift around and pat his pillow into submission. I didn't move from where I sat. I just stared into the dark until my eyes adjusted and I could make out the outline of his sleeping form in his bed.

A part of me wanted to turn every light on and challenge him. To just beg him to put up his fists and fight me. I couldn't say what I wanted to fight for, or whether I wanted to win.

My guts twisted again and the guilt burned hotter with that new emotion swirling around me.

While we were separated Jazz risked his life time and time again to find his family. He was slashed half to death, all alone…and me?

I was happy.

There wasn't a hole deep enough for me to jump into now. I couldn't outrun the truth that I was the cause of Tanya's death. And this awkward sensation growing inside of me the longer I was back on the road with Jazz needed to be addressed.

When I finally did crawl up the bed and laid my head down I could feel my remorse wrap around me like a blanket—choking the hope of ever being happy again from my body completely.

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

"Come on. It'll be fun," she promised and grabbed my hand. She pulled me toward the obnoxious red poster that read "Open House", and I cringed.

This was a huge step. Getting to know Tanya. Sleeping over at her apartment every now and then. I was already breaking most of the rules.

Living with her?

I gulped as we crossed the threshold of the show apartment. There were lots of other couples mingling around the room in front of us. Representatives from the building were walking around with information packets.

I was covered in sweat as I looked around.

How did people do this? How could you choose a place to live so easily? I hadn't had time to research all paranormal activity in the neighborhood. I didn't know if there were any signs of hauntings in the building. While Tanya asked the realtor about the downstairs gym, I wanted to ask her if there were any false walls that I could hide an arsenal behind.

I was out of my element.

"Well?" Tanya asked after an hour of wandering around the two-bedroom apartment.

I just smiled. What was I supposed to say? If I said I hated it, would she think I didn't want her? Did I want to live with her just to keep her?

"Edward?" she asked with a concerned pout on her face.

I didn't like to see her upset. I'd do anything to keep her from ever feeling sad again.

"Where do we sign?"

She jumped up and down, clapping and giggling. I couldn't help but laugh in a shared excitement with her. It obviously made her happy to know we'd be living together. So that made me happy.

A contract was shoved in front of me. I didn't even bother reading it. I just grabbed the pen and started to sign my name on the dotted line.

Just as the final curl of the 'n' in Cullen was complete I felt something wet hit my hand.

I figured Tanya was crying. This was a huge step. We were joining our lives together. From this moment on, our fates were intertwined.

I felt a second drop on the back of my hand before I realized what it was.

Blood.

I froze.

"No!" I shouted.

I looked up. Tanya's eyes were cold and glowing red. "Your soul is mine," she hissed in a demonic voice.

I shouted, shoving the possessed creature away from me. I wished like hell that Dad and Jazz were here for back up.

"They're dead, Edward," Demonic Tanya told me. "We're all dead. Thanks to you!"

She opened her mouth and the most horrific shriek was released.

We once faced a nest of banshees when I was a kid. I remembered the exact pitch of their wails. Cries that tormented a soul from the second the sound hit your ears.

This shriek was worse. It was like feeling the gates of Hell open within my chest.

There was a pounding.

Was it my heart?

I felt myself falling.

Was this it? Was I finally being dragged to Hell?

Falling…

Pounding…

Shrieking…

Everything went black.

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

My eyes snapped open.

The room was totally dark. I was covered in sweat and my heart was still racing from the nightmare.

"Shit," Jazz cursed. I could hear him scrambling out of bed.

I leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp.

"What's up?" I asked. The fog of sleep disoriented me.

Then I heard it—the loud pounding on the door. I shook my head to clear the remainder of sleep from my brain. I jumped out of bed to follow Jazz to the door.

"What's wrong?" Jazz shouted. I could see he had his shotgun in his hand.

"Help me!" a voice screamed outside. "Sanctuary!"

"Sanctuary?" I whispered.

"This ain't the church, pal," Jazz yelled.

The pounding increased.

"Who are you?" I yelled.

"Sanctuary!" the man screamed again.

"What the hell?" Jazz mumbled. He took a step closer to the door, his hand raised to grab the doorknob.

The pounding stopped.

Jazz dropped his hand.

"Should we…" I asked.

He looked back at me with confusion twisting his features. He inched closer to the door, peeking through the peephole.

"I don't see anything," he told me. "Grab the salt, will ya?"

I did as he asked, lining both the window and the doorway. Jazz nodded to me and clutched the shotgun to his chest.

He opened the door.

I dropped to my knees.

That shrieking…

The same as that in my dreams.

It felt like my ears were bleeding.

I screamed, covering my ears.

I could barely make out the sound of Jazz yelling my name in the distance.

Everything was turning grey. My eyes rolled back and I was lost to the pain.

"Where are we going, Edward?"

I opened my eyes to find myself sitting behind the wheel of my Volvo.

I blinked as I tried to make sense of how I got here.

"Edward?" a voice asked beside me.

I turned slowly, my heart in my throat.

"Tanya," I whispered.

I met her hopeful, vibrant eyes.

"How?"

"Where are we going?" she asked again.

I looked around. We were parked in our stall back in Chicago.

"How…"

"Edward…"

I looked back over at Tanya.

"Eddie?"

I furrowed my brow at her use of my brother's nickname for me. I couldn't remember Tanya ever calling me Eddie.

In fact, no one but Jazz had ever called me Eddie.

"Where are we going, Eddie?"

"Eddie…"

"Eddie!"

I came to with a sharp pain in my cheek.

"Tanya?" I croaked.

"No, it's Jazz. You back with me?" he asked.

I blinked. The darkness of the hotel room invaded my vision, followed by Jazz's worried face.

"What happened?" I asked.

My head felt like a bomb had gone off in my skull.

"Don't know. You just hit the ground and started screaming. Then you passed out. I was worried you were having a seizure."

He helped me sit up. My head felt swollen.

The door was still open. It looked like the sun was rising.

"What was that shrieking noise?" I asked, rubbing my temples.

"What shrieking? The only noise I heard was you screaming."

I looked up at him. "You didn't hear it? It was…high-pitched wailing…" Just the memory of the sound made my entire head throb.

Jazz hurried past me to close the door. His face was twisted with confusion as he leaned down to help me stand.

"I didn't hear anything, Eddie," he said, watching me curiously.

"What the hell was it?" I mumbled.

"Don't worry about it right now. Get some sleep. We'll be out of here in a few hours."

I took his advice. My head was pounding so hard it was impossible to think anyway. I leaned heavily on him for support as he steered me toward the bed.

I groaned as I hit the mattress none too softly. I closed my eyes and welcomed the promise of oblivion.

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

I stepped out of the shower and dried off. Chancing a glance in the mirror I noticed that I looked tired. Not sleepy tired but bone-dead, exhausted kind of tired.

I used my electric razor to shave off the two days' worth of stubble covering my chin and jaw. Jazz liked a little scruff on his face whereas I preferred a smooth shave. I didn't know why it mattered to me to think of that detail about us, but my mind refused to ever just be still and silent.

I was always thinking about something. Or trying to riddle out what everyone else was thinking about.

It wasn't hard to read my brother's thoughts as I exited the bathroom.

He was rearranging clothes in his suitcase with the stoic set of his features that warned he would just love for someone to pick a fight with him.

That was the first lesson that I learned about Jazz—he doesn't need much provocation for a fight. When Carlisle first adopted Jazz I was hopeful for a friend. I made the mistake of trying to talk to him when he looked like he did now, earning my first set of stitches for that.

And Jazz learned his first lesson about Carlisle—you don't hurt his kids.

I got dressed, trying to not think about the conversation last night.

"We should probably eat before we leave town," he told me. "I want to hit Goose Lake by nightfall."

I nodded.

He retrieved his shotgun from the nightstand, reminding me of strange wake-up call.

"What do you think that was last night?" I asked, pointing towards the door.

He shrugged. "Not our problem. We're headed to Alaska. And that's all there is to it."

This was another one of those times that I wasn't sure if I was talking to my brother or our father. Jazz finished packing with a near psychotic focus.

"What if something's up with this town?" I prodded. I couldn't believe that he would be willing to just walk away from a case. "That shrieking…"

"I didn't hear it," he snapped. He bent down to slide his boots on.

"Well what about the disappearing guy at the door?" I argued.

He heaved a sigh. "Eddie, there's bad shit that goes on everywhere. We can't take care of everybody's problems. We have a job. It's in Alaska. So get packed."

He tossed my jacket at me. "Let's go," he barked.

I frowned. "Would you give a shit about Alaska if we knew where Dad was?"

"Are you fucking shitting me right now?" he yelled. I could tell by the pulse of the vein in his forehead that he was this close to finally losing it.

"Jazz, come on…we don't even know who or what Eleazar is," I defended. "We're flying blind."

"No, we've already been flying blind. This is the first real lead I've gotten in seven months. I've been cut up, bled out, cursed, bruised and damn near eaten alive all for the sake of finding this one goddamn lead. And we're not stopping to deal with some phantom hotel ding-dong-ditcher just to satisfy your need to help everyone on planet Earth."

He stormed out of the room with his suitcase in hand. The door shook after he slammed it. I silently counted to ten and sighed.

I wondered what it was like to be able to just express emotions the way Jazz did. Already I was reasoning away my anger at his agitated mood. I knew what he meant. He thought I was being chicken shit and hiding behind this case to not face what was ahead of us.

I didn't want to admit it but he might be right. I was genuinely curious of what was going on in this town.

And on the other hand, he did have a point.

Do I want to stay only because there's some twisted sense of security in trying to solve this case? I asked myself as I laced up my boots.

"Yes," I admitted. I was terrified of what we would find in Alaska. A freshly filled orange bottle had been waiting for me in the bathroom this morning. What if Eleazar had something to do with those pills?

What would Carlisle do when he found out I stopped taking them?

I sat down on the bed, rubbing my hands over my face to scrub away the doubts. Jazz was right. We had to move on.

I heard the door open and close. Jazz walked to his bed and sat down across from me. I looked at him and we mutely nodded to each other.

It wasn't an "I'm sorry" but it was close as either of us would offer.

"Which route are we taking up through the state?" I wasn't overly familiar with the West coast. Dad never liked coming out to California on hunting trips. Jazz used to joke that the Cullens must be vampires because Carlisle obviously hated the sun.

"Well, we can take the 395 all the way up to the Oregon border. Why?"

"The 395 winds through the Sierra Nevadas," I pointed out, pulling up the interstate map in my mind. "You know what that means."

He sighed. "Yeah, snow."

"Snow."

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

"What can I get you boys?" the waitress asked as we slid into the booth.

"Just some coffee. Thanks," I said, offering her a polite smile.

Jazz stared up at her for a second longer than was polite. I kicked him under the table and he yelped.

"Sorry," he apologized to her. "I didn't mean to stare…it's just…did that hurt?" he asked, pointing to her upper lip.

It wasn't until that moment that I realized she had a tattoo across her lip.

I could feel my upper lip curl involuntarily as I tried to imagine that kind of pain.

The girl wasn't thrown off by Jazz's rude question. She offered him a smirk and slid up the sleeves of her uniform. "Not as much as these did," she offered.

I knew it was very ungentlemanly of me but I felt my jaw drop as I looked at the sleeves of tats running up both of her arms.

"Is that a winged devil?" I asked, pointing at the biggest image on her left forearm.

She nodded, looking impressed. "I'm into…mythology," she said.

She flashed a full smile and I could read her lip tat.

"Death is welcomed?" I asked.

She nodded. "Very good. Not too many people can read Latin."

Not all of your customers have had to memorize exorcism rituals, I thought dryly.

I smirked and we both turned back to Jazz. He had a fake smile plastered across his face.

"What was it you wanted to order, sweetie?" she asked him.

"The short stack, bacon and a chocolate milkshake. Please," he replied.

She smiled at us and headed off to the kitchen to place our order.

"What the hell was that?" he complained.

I shrugged. "Are you suddenly threatened by my ability to flirt with the waitress?"

He flashed me his signature "oh please" look and pointed toward the kitchen.

"Did you get a look at those tattoos?" he whispered, looking slightly on edge.

"Don't tell me you're suddenly afraid of girls with ink. Didn't you spend an entire weekend with that tattoo artist in Denver?"

That smug male smirk of his peeked out. "Oh yeah…she was fun." His eyes were glassy as he wandered back through his memories.

Then all at once he shook his head. "Stop distracting me," he hissed.

I threw my hands up in surrender and his next question was stalled on his lips as the waitress returned with my coffee.

"So…have you lived in Lone Pine long?" Jazz asked her awkwardly.

"Mhmm…most of my life, I guess you could say. It's where I call home, if that's what you're implying."

It wasn't what he was fishing for, and something about the way she squared her shoulders as she waited for his next question clued me into the fact that she knew that's not what he had meant.

"Travel around a lot?" I added accomplishing a more casual nature than my brother had.

She shrugged coyly at me. "Some call it nomadic, I call it freedom."

A bell dinged at the back counter and she rushed off to pick up the order.

"What the hell does her moving around have to do with the ink?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"She has some hardcore hoodoo shit on her arms, Eddie. You don't just find those images in an average tat shop."

"So…you wanna stick around and find out more about this town?" I perked up at the possibility.

Jazz frowned and my shin was instantly seized in pain as the tip of his cowboy boot smacked against it.

"Oh, and before I forget." He kicked me a second time.

"Ow," I grunted.

The waitress returned with his food before I could retaliate.

"Okay, short-stack and milkshake," she mumbled as she placed the food in front of Jazz.

I watched his eyes narrow in on her chest as she leaned over. "Cris," he read from her nametag.

"That's what my mom called me," she replied without missing a beat.

"Does she live in town, your mother, that is?" he probed.

I kicked him in the hopes that the stupid questions would stop.

He jumped slightly but continued to talk to her.

"Nah, my mom passed away a long time ago. It's just me," she told us.

I figured as long as he was going to force the poor girl to answer questions, I might as well try to get the ones I was looking for.

"You've lived here awhile, you said?" I asked and she nodded. "So…are there any local legends or anything? Anything strange happen here at night…"

I grunted as I felt the heel of my brother's boot stab my foot under the table.

"Oh… were you guys staying at the motel last night?" Her eyes were wide as she looked between us.

I cringed from the pain in my foot. We both nodded, though Jazz's nod was disgruntled.

"So you heard poor old Mr. McGuinness then?"

Jazz and I shot each other confused, restrained looks.

"I guess so…" I offered.

"The banging? The screaming? The call for sanctuary and all that?" She waved her arms in the air as she spoke.

We nodded a second time.

"Awesome," she whispered with excitement glowing in her eyes. "We haven't heard him in years. Did you hear the creature, too?" she asked anxiously.

Jazz glared. "No."

My turn to kick him again.

He was ready for my attack and swung his leg at the same time. We both yelped as our legs bounced off each other and the entire table shook, rattling our spoons and water glasses.

"Order up!" the cook shouted from the back.

"Oh," Cris said and dashed off to take care of more orders.

"No," Jazz repeated once we were alone.

I watched him for a second and then nodded silently.

"I mean it, Eddie. No." He stood and headed to the bathroom.

I stared out the window at nothing in his absence.

"Did you hear it?" a voice whispered.

I looked over to find Cris sliding into Jazz's seat. She looked around nervously like she was worried we would be interrupted by the FBI or something.

"Um…the shrieking?" I asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. It's not common for people to hear it…the legend is that…well, that you have to be one of the creature's prey to hear it."

Why didn't it surprise me that some mountain creature wanted to stalk me?

"What's the legend?"

"It's a…"

"Local problem," Jazz suddenly stated matter-of-fact.

Cris snapped her mouth shut and jumped out of the booth.

"Darlin', how bout a to-go box and our check, please and thanks," he ordered with a harsh edge to his voice.

"Oh…sure…I'll get your check," she mumbled.

"Thanks," Jazz barked.

"Dude, you're such a jerk," I grumbled. I followed Cris to the counter and took care of our bill.

"I'm sorry about that," I apologized to her. "We're just in a hurry to get to our destination."

"No worries. Lone Pine is a rest stop kinda town," she replied with a friendly smile.

She watched me with trepidation deep in her eyes that caught me off guard.

"Have you…ever heard the creature?" I asked.

She nodded slowly, fear filling her whole face. "Last night," she whispered. She bit her lip, looking around the diner before staring me in the eyes.

"I've heard stories. People who've heard that thing and then…poof…gone like Mr. McGuinness."

I was torn straight down the middle as I looked into her terrified eyes. My brother was waiting out in the car with absolutely no interest in helping anyone in this town. But this girl could use our help.

"Here," I told her, scribbling down my cell number on the back of our receipt. "You call this if you need anything. We're…experienced in the… unexplained. Call me if you hear that thing again."

I started to leave but she caught my hand. For a second I felt like I was looking back into Tanya's hazel eyes when I looked at her.

"I don't even know your name."

I smiled. "I'm Edward." I shook her hand and then left the diner.

That sensation of being watched that had haunted me in the parking lot last night crept back into my mind as I got into the Impala.

Jazz tore out of town like the place was on fire.

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

"Edward," Tanya whispered.

I felt her fingers brush against my cheek.

I moaned lightly. I was so tired. Couldn't I get just a few more minutes of sleep?

"Edward, where are we going?"

I blinked my eyes open. I was back in the Volvo with Tanya sitting next to me.

I knew it was a dream…it had to be a dream.

The last thing I remembered was stopping for gas in Independence.

"Wake up…wake up…wake up…" I chanted uselessly. I cinched my eyes shut.

It all felt so real. I could smell Tanya's perfume, hear the breath leaving her lips. She was really here next to me.

And yet…I know she died.

Didn't she?

"Wake up, Edward," she whispered. "Wake up…"

"Eddie," Jazz yelled. I felt the slap across my chest just as I was pulled from the dream world once more.

We were in the Impala, flying down the highway.

"Whoa," I mumbled. I couldn't put my finger on what was happening to me. I was used to vivid dreams—especially ones involving Tanya lately.

But these…

"Are you experimenting with some serious drugs that I should know about, little brother?" Jazz half teased. He cast a speculative eye in my direction and for a moment I wasn't sure what to say.

I did feel like I was under the influence of something out of my control.

I shook my head clumsily. "I don't know," I admitted. "I've been having…strange dreams."

"Dreams?" he echoed.

I nodded, rubbing my hands down my face to clear my head.

"Yeah… they feel almost like memories…or… I don't know…visions or something."

"Okay," he responded skeptically. He watched the road in front of us with that same intensity that he always had behind the wheel of this car.

My pocket vibrated and pulled my phone out to answer it.

I didn't recognize the number.

"You know anybody at number 7-6-0-5-5-5-3-8-2-1?" I read the numbers and yawned.

He shook his head. "Nope. But 7-6-0 is a local area code…Lone Pine area, actually. Maybe you're just picking up a stray signal."

I stared at the number again. Whoever it was left a message. I dialed my voicemail and slapped my forehead the second I heard her voice.

"It's the waitress…Cris," I said.

He shot me side eyes filled with mirth.

"I wasn't in the bathroom that long, Eddie," he teased.

I ignored his immature allusion. "I gave her my number…in case…"

My voice trailed off as I realized he would be pissed to find out why.

"We've just about past the point of 'a little too far out of the way for a booty call', dude," he pointed out.

"She said she heard that shrieking last night, too," I mumbled as quietly as I could.

Without warning he slammed on the brakes.

As usual the Impala was in harmony with Jazz's mood. It seemed to rumble with a disapproval that even reminded me of Carlisle.

Traffic was still moving along the highway. Semis and campers were laying on their horns as they adjusted their paths to avoid hitting us.

Jazz was unaffected by all of that, though. He casually leaned to the side so he was fully facing me. He slowly crossed his arms over his chest, watching me through his sunglasses.

"Come again?" he asked calmly.

"It's a local legend…not sure exactly what the legend is but she said that only…the creature's prey can hear it…" The more I rambled around my explanation the darker his mood grew.

"You know what you're gonna find back there, Eddie?" he asked with an emotionless voice.

I didn't respond. I just stared back at him.

"The same shit you'll find two towns over and in Colorado…in Toronto and even in New York…because bad shit…"

"Exists all over, I know," I interjected.

"Do you?" he challenged.

"Yes," I defended in offense. "I've grown up around all the same shit you did."

"No, you didn't," he informed me. I was caught off guard by the way he looked when he said it. He was the typical full of piss and vinegar Jasper. He looked…tired. Like it was taking all he had to keep his soul inside his body.

"You grew up around two people who shielded you from ever really experiencing this shit. And a guy who kept us moving long enough to outrun the shit that's even worse."

I clenched my jaw and glared out the window.

"I can help her," I whispered.

"You wanna know how I got this scar?" He pointed at his face.

I nodded, intrigued enough to forget about the case for a second.

"I tried to help someone," he explained quietly. His eyes grew glassy with the emotional release that he denied himself. "And it didn't work out so well for her. I thought I had it all together. I knew what we were facing…knew everything I needed to do to stop it. Then the damn thing changed its M.O… and things went south. Fast."

"What was it?"

Everything outside of the car disappeared as I listened to his story. My entire focus narrowed to the look of desolation on his face.

"It was a…I don't know…some sort of demon. Called himself Erebos."

"That's the Greek God of darkness," I recited from a textbook article suddenly in my mind.

He sighed. "Yeah, she was a college student, really into the whole mythology thing. She accidentally invoked him, or something, and then I tried to expel him. All I got for the trouble was this scar on my cheek and a warning that I should know when to walk away."

"What happened to the girl?"

"He killed her. Took a knife and ran it through her stomach then ditched the flesh suit."

He rubbed his nose, a few tears finally escaping his eyes as he looked over his shoulder down the highway.

"Why didn't he kill you?"

Jazz was deathly still for a minute. I fully expected sharing hour to end right then and there.

"He told me it was because he needed me…to lead him… to you." His voice cracked heavy with emotion.

"Me? What the hell…"

"I was in Chicago at the time. Did I forget to mention that?" He continued still looking out the window.

"When were you in Chicago?"

"I followed you to Chicago, Eddie. First night you were there I ran into that girl running from something. My first instinct was to ignore her. I was there to protect you…but I just knew I could help her. After Erebos told me he was looking for you I took off. That's when I found out Dad was missing, too."

My head was spinning with all the implications.

"You don't think…is he…did Erebos kill Tanya? Esme?…my mom?"

"I don't know." He offered me a commiserating look of confusion and pain.

"You told me you had no idea what we were up against… you lied to me!"

"I still don't know what the hell he is!" he shouted back. "I don't know what we're up against. I didn't want you to know about him because I don't want to accidentally tip him off. You were happy back there. Safe. Maybe if I just never followed that girl… maybe he would have moved on and neither of us would be on his radar."

I shook my head. "You want me to wish you had purposely sacrificed her life for ours?"

"Edward, we can't save everyone. And I can promise you that we won't survive fighting Erebos on our own. We need Dad," he stressed.

"No," I argued. "We need to hunt and kill these things. That's what Dad taught us. Saving people is all we can do, Jazz," I sighed.

He shook his head. That mask of anger was solidifying his features once more.

"You know what, forget it. I'll walk back. You go to Alaska. You'll know where to find me after you find the answers you're looking for."

I jumped out of the car, slamming the door as he yelled my name.

He kicked the Impala in reverse and tracked back a few feet parallel with my retreat. The traffic on the highway seemed to be the last damn worry on his mind.

Finally he realized talking me into going with him was a lost cause. He stopped and I just kept on walking. When I reached the trunk it popped open. I stared into the space for a second before reaching in and pulling out the pre-packed duffle that had one of everything. I snagged an extra case of rock salt packed shotgun shells and closed the lid.

I stared at his reflection in the rearview mirror for half a heartbeat.

It felt like I was walking out the door on my family again.

A horn blared right behind me and I jumped on to the shoulder of the highway. Jazz put the car in to drive and headed North.

I turned on my heel and headed back South.

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

I called Cris back when I reached Lone Pine twenty minutes later. Luckily a truck stopped to pick me up only a few miles down the highway from where Jazz and I parted ways.

There was no answer on her end of the line.

I replayed her message to me one more time.

"Edward…I'm sorry to call…it's just…I could have sworn someone was following me when I walked home after my shift. I'm probably just paranoid but…I felt that way last night. Right before I heard the shrieking…I don't know where you are but…I could really use a friend right now…"

The message cut off without her saying goodbye. I couldn't tell if she just hung up or if something did attack her.

I thanked the driver as I climbed out of the truck cab in front of the diner. Cris was nowhere in sight, but then she had said she walked home.

And of course, I had no idea where 'home' was for her.

I headed into the diner to ask around. Knowing some random strange guy asking questions about a local girl wouldn't go over well, I pulled out the Federal Marshall badge that I had tucked away in my back pocket.

"Good morning," I said to the new waitress standing behind the cash register. She smiled. I flashed the badge quickly, adopting the stance of a trained law enforcement officer.

"My name's Edward… Skynyrd," I lied, mentally kicking myself for sounding just like Jazz and his rock references.

"Can you tell me where I might find…" Shit I had no idea what her last name was. "A young lady by the name of Cris?"

The waitress didn't seem surprised at all that someone was looking for the girl.

"What did she do this time?" she sighed.

"Does she get into trouble often?" I asked as if I was fleshing out a profile on a suspect.

The woman cocked a brow and smirked at me. "If by get into trouble you mean, do I have to tell a lot of you badge-sporting boys where to find her, then yes. She gets into that sort of mess almost every week."

I was surprised to hear that the girl I met that morning was constantly in trouble with the law. I knew she had some hardcore ink on her skin but appearances weren't everything.

She seemed like a very innocent soul to me.

"She lives on the outskirts of town. Take the frontage road to the logging access turn-off. Her shack is just a few feet into the woods from there. You can't miss it. You'll probably hear the heavy metal long before you see the place anyway." She laughed.

"Thanks," I replied with a nod. There was a framed photo hanging on the wall behind her that caught my eye. I easily recognized the woman in front of me as the person standing in the middle. Five other people stood around her. My eyes were drawn to the young girl with short blond hair who stood to the woman's right. Something was so familiar about the girl but I just couldn't place what it was.

"So what did she do? Or am I not allowed to know?" The waitress pried.

I shook off the confusion from staring at the picture and offered her an ironic smile. "Need to know, ma'am."

She rolled her eyes and walked off to wait on tables.

I stood there for another second, trying to riddle out the girl in the photo.

Finally I gave up and headed to Cris' house.

The walk wasn't long but my brain still felt the need to fill every second of it with thoughts. I made a list of priorities for the case in front of me. First things first, I needed to make sure Cris was safe. Secondly, I needed to know what this creature was and what the local legend was.

People who gave no credence to urban legends were flat out fools. There was a reason a story survived throughout generations, because there was always a bit of truth tossed in. And hunters considered local legends to be blessing from higher powers. Where there was a legend there was an explanation on how to kill whatever you were hunting. It took a lot of time out of researching the beasties.

The only thing I had to go off of right now was the shrieking, the fact that the creature's prey were the only ones who could hear it and that Mr. McGuinness was looking for 'sanctuary'.

At the corner at the edge of town I found a sign that pointed toward the logging access road, and a church.

A good hunter follows their gut.

A great hunter is damn near psychic.

The best hunters are two steps ahead of their own thoughts.

There was only one place a person found sanctuary. I walked into the church without a second thought.

The door was unlocked and creaked as I pushed it open slowly. The chapel was small and well worn. It was completely silent and for a moment I tried to hold my breath for fear that I would disturb the peace of the holy space.

I never had much use for religion.

I knew that Hell existed. I knew the bad things that religion warned the world about were real. But I never felt right sitting in a church.

My soul was damned from birth.

No amount of praying would ever right that destiny.

That being said, I respected the practice all the same. I'd sent many of the evils of this world back down to Hell with the rituals found in the Bible. So I supposed it had some use in my life.

"Can I help you, son?" a quiet, reverent voice asked from behind me.

I swallowed. I hated lying to clergy. It wasn't bad enough that I had damnation upon me. I had to keep adding insult to injury. I had no doubt that there was some kind of wicked karma building up against me too.

"Um…yeah," I turned. "I'm Edward Sk…"

"Edward? Carlisle's son?" he whispered.

I blinked at the man in total incredulity.

"What did you say?" I asked, slowly lowering the duffle on my shoulder in case I needed to fight.

I should have asked Jazz what that Erebos thing looked like.

The old man in front of me was dressed like a priest. His hair was black but for the wings of grey at his temples. His eyes were blue and kind.

I didn't sense a threat from him. But how did he know…

"I'm Father Weber," he offered, reaching out his hand in a show of good faith.

I searched through the list of allies in my mind. That one did seem familiar.

"Angela's Dad?" I finally remembered.

The old man's face fell into lines of extreme anguish. "Yes," he confirmed.

"And you're a priest?" There were quite a few lingering Thornbird questions in the air between us.

"I wasn't always," he offered with a knowing smile.

I laughed. "It's nice to…meet a friend."

He smiled, motioning for us to sit at the first row of pews.

"I had thought Carlisle might never come back this way. He avoided California as much as possible."

"Yeah, we used to think he hated sunshine."

Father Weber laughed. "Knowing your father, it's a very distinct possibility. But…well, let's say I think he feared crossing my path too frequently."

I regarded him with questions bouncing around in my head. I looked around, hoping we were talking in complete privacy.

"Don't worry about us being interrupted," he promised. "The only time this house sees guests is Sunday."

I decided to apply rule number five and figure out exactly who this guy was. "What are doing in California? I thought Dad knew your daughter in Seattle."

"Angela went to Washington State for college and was lucky enough to be drawn for Seattle General for her residency. She would tell me about a very kind and noble doctor that she worked with. I used to think she had a crush on the man…" he explained with a far off look at the end as his words fell away into nothing.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," I offered.

I had always felt responsible for the death of Angela Weber. For everyone in that hospital that night. My mother was trying to keep me hidden from whatever killed all of those people. In essence…I was the reason Angela was killed.

My stomach twisted at the thought. I wasn't worth it.

Father Weber watched me for a moment. "If you want this to be a confessional, I won't mind. I counseled your father more than a few times. Much to his dismay, I might add."

I laughed. "You mean you got Carlisle Cullen to spill his secrets?" I teased.

Father Weber smiled. "It wasn't easy. It usually took a few bottles of Jack and some Hall and Oates albums but he would talk eventually."

We both laughed.

"So that's why he avoided California?" I figured. He nodded. "Yeah, Dad was never big on sharing what was going on inside his head."

I don't know why or how but I felt like I could open up to the man in front of me.

"He taught me how to read people. Anticipate what they will say and do…what they're thinking. I could apply the technique to anyone…everyone…except Carlisle. His mind has always been the greatest mystery to me," I confessed.

"I knew your father," Father Weber said, still watching me with his sympathetic eyes. "Carlisle was a conflicted soul, but always searching for the path of good."

"Did you know that… he's missing?" I whispered.

Father Weber shook his head quickly from side to side. "Missing?" he mouthed as if saying it out loud would make it truth.

It was a risky chance I took laying it all out there like this. It was one thing to talk to Charlie Swan about Dad being missing. Charlie was as close to a second father as we would ever have. I trusted Charlie with my very life.

I felt that I could trust Father Weber, but rule number four was staring me in the face. If you trust the wrong person with the right information you might just be sealing the death sentences of your whole family.

I couldn't place all my faith on the white and black collar around this man's neck.

Rule number seven: Faith is best left to sinners.

I made a conscious decision to not yet tell him how long Carlisle had been missing or that we had exhausted our search for him. I weighed the next question in my mind for a few more minutes before finally asking him.

"Did he ever mention…a friend of his that lives in Alaska?"

"Eleazar?" he responded immediately.

I nodded, still undecided as to whether this man deserved my trust.

He must have noticed my anxiety. He smiled, shaking his head and leaning back against the pew. "You know, the loss of my daughter pushed me into the path of God. It shoved your father in a very different direction. I may not travel around in a classic car and salt and burn bones but I am a hunter, son. I've made it my life's work to dispel evil from this world. And there aren't too many hunters who don't know about Eleazar."

"We've never heard of him," I remarked unthinkingly. I wasn't surprised in the least that we were the last two hunters on earth to learn of the mysterious Eleazar. That was just the way Carlisle operated.

Father Weber nodded. "You mean, your father never told you about him," he corrected.

I frowned and he smiled.

"You father always had a good reason for his actions. Even if they paved a journey to hell for him."

"I thought you said he was always following the good path?"

He laughed again. "I said he was always searching for the good path. Carlisle lost sight of his own salvation the day Esme died."

I reached forward and lifted a bible from the pew in front of me. Of all the books that I had read in my life this was the only one that had instilled fear in me. I read manuscripts about ancient evil. Legends about death and destruction. All of those stories never stuck with me as much as just the sight of this leather bound edition in my hand now.

It offered what most called 'salvation'. I called it impossible.

And that scared me.

What kind of evil was waiting for me on the other side? How could Hell be worse than life?

I fingered the cover of the book in my hand. "Then why did he bother to seek out the good in the world?"

Deep down I knew the answer. Or at least I hoped I did. I felt like a child, having to be reassured that the foundation of my world would never crumble.

"Edward…Carlisle sold his soul to protect you boys."

That emotion that had choked me in the hotel room last night was back. I had a name for it now. Shame. I was ashamed to admit that I had spent so much of my life resenting a man who had turned his own soul inside out to keep me alive. And safe.

And I was even more ashamed to realize that I was forcing my brother to take Carlisle's place.

"Father…I think…I've sinned…"

He placed his hand on my shoulder and the guilt was tenfold as I tried to narrow down just one sin that I could confess. There were too many to choose from.

"Edward, you carry a heavy weight on your shoulders. Don't allow the burden to overwhelm you," he said without any prompt for his words.

"You don't know…the things…" I mumbled.

"I do, son. I know. And I know that, like your father, you are fighting for what's right."

"Everyone I care about gets hurt," I told him.

"This life is about trials, son. You live a life that unfortunately has more trials than most."

Tears filled my eyes as I pictured Tanya's lifeless body. Jazz's scars… Carlisle's disapproval when I walked out the door.

"I don't think I'm doing too well with the challenge."

"That's why I know you're a good soul," he informed me matter-of-fact.

I stared at him in disbelief.

"You barely know me," I argued.

"I know enough. I know you would talk to a complete stranger out of the hope that you might hear about your family. I know that you are here searching for something, which means you are helping someone. And I know that you carry a guilt for the death of my daughter that rivals my own. I wish that I could relieve you of these burdens, Edward. But I couldn't hope for a…truer heart to follow this quest."

His words were confusing to me. And yet he made perfect sense. "You read all that from just a few minutes alone with me?"

He nodded. "You really have no idea how much you're like Carlisle, do you?"

I felt a sudden pang of pain in my chest. I thought it might be guilt but it was an odd sense of pride.

"I'm so confused," I muttered.

Why did I leave Jazz?

"This conversation has grown rather…how do you young people put it? Heavy."

I blinked at him with a blank stare. Heavy? What young people is he relating me to? Martin McFly?

I cleared my throat.

"Yeah…I actually came here because we were staying at the motel last night and heard…"

"The ghost?" he finished.

I nodded. "What's the case?"

He sighed. "That's one that I can't figure out myself. I've lived in this town for twenty years. The ghost in question started scaring travelers around a hundred years ago, but I've never honestly heard him, or the supposed winged creature that haunts the hills."

"Winged creature?" I echoed.

He nodded standing and walking back to the rectory. I followed him.

"It's the local legend, the Lone Pine Mountain Devil. Supposedly when the missionaries traveled through this land back in the day a few of the priests caught sight of this…Hell creature flying through the skies. There's a manuscript," he explained, pulling a parchment from his bookcase. "It describes the event as 'Nature's Wrath'. Apparently the creature was…vengeful that the missionaries were disturbing the forest and it carried off two of the workers in the middle of the night. The current legend is that the creature only attacks those who either don't believe its existence or have no respect for the forest."

"Is there anything about shrieking? How does it select its victims?"

"That's the interesting thing. The manuscript is from the mid 1800's. Then there's no mention of the beast until 1929 when McGuinness died. After that the legend shifts. Some hooey about a beast that stalks its prey and punishes guilty souls."

"Like a banshee?" I guessed.

He nodded. "A little. I haven't been able to truly narrow down the shift. There was a plague that wiped out the general population of the town around the turn of the century. I don't know if that changed the hunting habits of the creature or what. We don't have too many issues with the beast, either way. I haven't heard of anyone actually being attacked in the last…oh, ten years. And even then the town ruled it a bear attack."

I shifted my legs as I read through the manuscript he handed me. It was written in Latin.

"Latin?" I asked with raised brows. "Didn't you say this was from the 1800's?"

He smiled. "I think they hoped it would exorcise the demon. You read Latin?" he asked.

"Yeah, Carlisle didn't believe in us just memorizing rituals. He wanted us to understand what we were saying."

"That sounds like him."

"How often do people report hearing the ghost?"

"Oh…not that often. There's actually only been one other person I've known of report hearing the ghost. A nice girl. She actually lives out back," he explained.

"Cris?" I asked hopefully.

He nodded. "You know her?"

"Well…I met her. She's…I think she's being tracked by the creature."

Father Weber sat down in the chair behind his desk.

"I should warn you that she's a troubled young girl. She was diagnosed with schizophrenia about three years ago. She visited me a few weeks ago, telling me she heard the ghost. I didn't know whether to believe her or not. She told me a few months ago that Satan was talking to her through her refrigerator."

It was rude to laugh but I couldn't help it. Jazz had me convinced the gates of Hell were in the fridge after we watched Ghostbusters when we were kids. The irony tickled me.

"So, do you think there's anything to it?" I pressed.

He shrugged. "Can't hurt to check it out, right?" he pointed out.

He opened up a hidden panel behind the grandfather clock beside his desk, pulling out a shotgun and what looked like a cleaning spray bottle.

"Holy water," he said, shaking the spray bottle.

"My brother would have a smart ass remark about disinfecting demons or something like that," I laughed.

"So would your father," he added.

The walk to Cris' house was relatively quiet. I scanned the forest. I had no clue what I was looking for.

"How big did the priest say the creature was?"

"Big enough to carry a grown man with its talons."

"How do you think we go about killing such a thing?"

It suddenly struck me that I was out of my element. I wasn't used to worrying about killing the monsters we hunted. But then, I usually had Jazz standing next to me. Sure, I'd burned bones and decapitated ghouls but it wasn't the same feeling as I walked toward Cris' house that I had on other cases. I always knew Jazz had my back.

Even with Father Weber next to me I felt completely alone.

"How far away is her house?" I asked after a few minutes.

"Just past that bunch of trees," he said, waving ahead of us.

"I would have thought this would all be covered in snow." I attempted small talk. It wasn't my forte. I couldn't just talk to people. I needed a purpose and subject to the conversation. Snow was still stuck on my mind.

"Oh, we get it at the edge of the forest. Mostly we don't get the really bad weather until February. You passed through just in time," he explained. "We do get frost and the occasional rain storm. We had a bunch of rain about two days ago, hence the mud."

I nodded, feeling my boots sink into the sticky forest floor.

Much to my relief we found our way to the access road. It was still muddy but easier to walk on.

I noticed fresh tracks in the mud. "Do you get a lot of logging trucks up this way, this time of year?" The tracks didn't look big enough to be from trucks but I couldn't imagine anyone else wanting to drive up this road in the middle of winter.

Father Weber shook his head. "No. It's too dangerous with the unpredictable weather. It's more a summer trade. I don't know what these tracks are from."

We knelt down to inspect the tread. I recognized it immediately.

"Impossible," I whispered.

"What?"

"This is…Son of a bitch." I jumped to my feet and ran down the road. I cursed again when I caught sight of the black paint just past the trees.

The Impala was parked in front of the small house.

"Isn't that your father's car?" Father Webber asked.

I nodded, looking around for Jazz.

"Jazz!" I yelled. "Jasper where are you?"

I inspected the car. Nothing looked out of place. The doors and trunk were all shut and locked. There were no signs of struggle around the car.

That meant he got out without being attacked.

"Jazz!" I screamed again.

Father Weber headed toward the front porch of the house.

I was terrified to walk away from the car. My heart was in my throat, choking me with fear.

Think Edward, think. I would almost swear I felt the Impala shove me toward the forest where I noticed the footprints.

"I found something!" I shouted, hoping Father Weber hadn't disappeared like everyone else around here.

I could hear him running up behind me.

"What is it?"

"It's a boot," I said, running my finger along the edge of the imprint to gauge the size of the shoe. "My brother's cowboy boot to be exact."

We looked around but couldn't find any other tracks.

"Do you suppose?" he asked looking toward the sky.

I hadn't had time to process what the creature was before I had to accept that my brother had been carried off by it.

"Did the missionaries ever find the thing's lair?"

Father Weber looked around, fear creeping into his features.

"Father, think," I barked, sounding like my brother. "Where would the creature take them?"

He shook his head. "I don't…I…I don't…" he stuttered.

"Shit," I cursed. I looked around for any kind of sign.

"Wait…what did you say the new legend was? What brought the creature out?"

Father Weber was two shades paler as he looked up at me.

"Disrespect for nature is believed to be the main cause," he rasped.

"You're not going to…to…" he gasped when I pulled out my lighter.

"Get your game face on, Father," I warned.

I lit the tallest tree next to me on fire. I felt guilty doing it. Somewhere in the back of my mind Smokey the Bear was getting ready to kick my ass.

But I needed to find this thing. Fast.

The screeching started almost as soon as the smoke hit the sky.

I hit the ground. My head felt like it would explode. My entire body convulsed with the effort to resist just passing out from the pain.

"Father," I pleaded with all the strength left inside of me. "Find us."

I felt my body slip into unconsciousness, feeling weightless, like I was flying.

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

"Edward," Tanya said. "My, my, my you're a sleepyhead these days," she teased.

I opened my eyes, smiling at her.

"Why are we in the car?" I asked, yawning.

She giggled. "You keep falling asleep."

"Oh," I said, staring at her. She was so beautiful. "Sorry."

Her smile fell slightly. "Are you okay? You kept yelling in your sleep. Were you having a nightmare?"

I tried to remember what I dreamed about. It was fuzzy and almost painful to think about it.

"I don't know… I…it was like I was back in my old life," I tried explain.

I could vaguely remember Jasper being there. Something horrible happened and we had to go back out on the road.

"It seemed so real," I mumbled.

"Old life?" she laughed. "Edward, you're acting like you were somebody else before you met me. I don't believe you."

I smiled at her. "That guy is long gone, sweetheart. Promise." I reached across the car and snagged her hand in mine. The warmth of her fingers entwined with my own.

"You're so cold, Edward," she noticed.

"Must be from sleeping so long," I joked.

"Where are we going?" she asked with bright eyes.

I had a moment of déjà vu. I knew that I'd been in this moment before.

"I…where do you want to go," I asked as I tried to shake the sensation of panic.

"Let's go somewhere fun…somewhere far away. Just put the car in drive and let's go."

I searched her eyes for some explanation as to why we were in the car in the first place. I tried to remember what we were doing before we got here.

It was blank.

"What were we doing…" I muttered, forcing my mind to break through the fog.

"Edward…" she whispered. "You're so cold…"

"Tanya," I said.

Then it hit me. The memory of finding her in our bedroom. Jazz showing up and dragging me back into the world of hunting. All of it.

"This isn't real," I said, glancing back at her.

My Tanya was gone, replaced by the red-eyed demon.

"You're so cold, Edward," she repeated.

"And you're just a nightmare," I contested. I reached under the driver's seat, pulling out the knife I kept concealed there.

"You can't leave me again," she promised.

I felt everything slipping away as I plunged the knife through her chest.

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

I woke up, gasping for breath and completely disoriented.

"What the hell," I groaned.

"Eddie? Is that you?" I heard Jazz ask from somewhere behind me.

"Jazz?" I croaked. "Where are we?"

"I don't know…a cave, I think."

I tried to move but my hands were tied behind my back.

"How did you get here?" I asked.

"You didn't really think I could leave you behind, did you?"

My heart sunk when I realized I hadn't really thought about it. I had been so focused on helping Cris.

"Is Cris here?"

"I don't think so. But there's a pile of bones in the corner. Not sure how long ago that thing ate."

I tried to move to see further inside the cave. I was facing toward the entrance and when I tried to turn my head to the side there was a shooting pain behind my eyes.

"I think I have a concussion," I warned him.

"You also have a never-ending obsession with dreaming about that chick from Chicago," he pointed out.

If I didn't think the pain would kill me I would have rolled my eyes.

"Did you get a look at this thing, Jazz?"

"It's big, Eddie. Two huge wings…a mouth full of sharp pointy teeth."

"How do we stop it?"

"I find that detaching heads usually works on just about anything."

I sighed. "And how do you propose we get close enough to chop off its head?"

"Working on that part," he promised.

I dislocated my thumb on my right hand and wiggled my wrist free of the rope, freeing my left hand in the process.

"How the hell did it tie us up?" I asked, snapping my thumb back into place.

"It threw me against the wall so hard I blacked out. When I woke up I was like this," he explained.

I turned to find him hanging from the ceiling of the cave. His wrists were bound above his head and his body dangled down like a he was a marionette puppet.

"Shit," I spat, looking up at him.

"I can't feel my toes, dude," he replied emphatically.

I crawled closer to him, fighting back the urge to vomit when the world sloshed around in my vision.

I grabbed a hold of his ankle to help steady myself as I stood.

"Son of bitch, that stings!" he yelled in protestation.

I felt around in his jacket and found his handgun.

"Eddie, what are you doing?"

"There aren't any ladders around, bro," I pointed out. "I'm just gonna shoot the rope and you'll come tumbling down." It seemed like a pretty fail safe plan to me.

I blinked my eyes to bring the rope into focus.

"You sure you can see it?" Jazz asked in panic.

"How many ropes did it use to tie you up?" I asked, hoping at least one of the five lines swirling above his head held still long enough for me to shoot it.

"Eddie," he warned.

"I got it, Jazz," I assured him, narrowing my eyes and squeezing back the trigger.

"Just a little higher!" he shouted just as the gun went off.

The bullet snapped the rope in half and gravity took care of the rest. I helped break his fall by not moving out of the way fast enough.

We both landed on the hard cave floor with a thud.

"Uh," Jazz grunted.

"Edward," he huffed. "The next time I say we're going to Alaska…"

"We'll go to Alaska," I agreed.

We sat up, leaning against each other for support.

"Where did it go?" I asked.

"It dropped you off and then flew back out the opening."

"And no sign of the girl?"

I could feel his head shaking from side to side.

"Just once can't we have a simple, easy to handle case?" I grumbled.

Jazz chuckled. "What the hell would be the fun in that?"

I laughed.

"How did you find it?" he asked.

"I…uh…went to church."

"Figures."

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"When it comes back, try not to pass out."

I nodded. "I'll try."

I could sense that the creature's return was near.

"Don't suppose we can hope for any back up?" Jazz asked sarcastically.

I shrugged. "There was a priest," I offered.

"A priest?" He looked over his shoulder at me in amazement.

"I leave you alone for one afternoon and you're taking vows?"

"Long story," I mumbled.

I could hear the screech in the distance. I clamped my fists against the sides of my head in protest.

"Eddie?" Jazz shouted.

"It's coming!"

He yanked me to my feet and we scrambled to the mouth of the cave like we were in an awkward three-legged race.

The full force of the shriek was released and I screamed as the pain drove all control of my vision from my eyes.

"I can't see!" I warned Jazz.

He missed a step near the entrance and we went down, hard.

"Shit," he cursed.

"What?" I asked, feeling completely impotent to help him.

"It's flying this way," he explained.

"The girl?" I asked with baited breaths.

"I don't see her."

"No," I moaned. I had done it all for nothing. Risked my life to come back and save her. Put Jazz's life in danger… all for what?

To have exactly what Jazz had warned me about happening.

"Edward!" a familiar voice shouted from somewhere in the darkness.

"Who the hell is that?" Jazz muttered.

"That's Father Weber," I told him. Even though I was as blind as a bat I recognized the sound of the old man's voice.

"What's he doing?" I asked.

"The monster is heading towards him…shit…it's on the warpath, we gotta get out of here." Jazz shoved at me to help me to my feet.

"No! Jazz what about Father Weber?"

"He's got a flare gun raised…I think he's gonna…Oh, shit!" he yelled just as I heard loud pop and then a hissing sound.

I could smell burning flesh.

"What the hell just happened?" I yelled.

"He got it," Jazz assured me.

Relief washed over me and though I knew I'd catch shit for it later I let go and fell off into unconsciousness once more.

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

"Wake up, you silly boy," she said, running her fingers through my hair.

I smiled.

"Maybe you should just go on the trip without me," I teased.

"There's no point to the trip without you, Edward," she told me.

I peeked my eyes open. Her beauty took my breath away.

"Tanya?" I whispered.

She nodded.

"Why can't I stay awake?" I felt my brow wrinkle with confusion. "I don't want to leave you again."

"Don't worry, Edward," she whispered back. "We'll be together. Soon."

My eyes were suddenly far too heavy to keep open. I felt her kiss my cheek.

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

I wasn't disoriented when I opened my eyes this time. But I was confused.

Those moments with Tanya in the car felt so real. As real as sitting here in this cold, dark cave with Jazz was.

I kept telling myself that I knew what was real.

This was real…wasn't it?

This wasn't the dream.

It couldn't be…could it?

"Well," Jazz said, brushing off dirt from pants. "That thing went poof so I guess that means it's over."

I looked around. "What happened to the girl?"

"While you were catnapping," he glared at me, "I inspected the pile of bodies in the corner. Here," he said, holding a small, laminated card out to me.

My heart sunk as I realized it was a nametag. I was almost too afraid to confirm that her name was printed on the damn thing.

"I'm useless," I mumbled.

"You're human," Jazz offered. "And that's not a bad thing."

"Are you boys okay?" Father Weber called from outside the cave.

"Yeah!" we answered in unison.

Jazz helped me to my feet and we walked out of the cave, leaning on each other.

"Thanks for the help, padre," Jazz said, shaking Father Weber's hand.

"It was my pleasure," he promised. "I owed your dad that one."

Jazz slapped his shoulder and nodded to him in thanks. I wanted to stop Jazz and have him sit down and talk to the old guy for a few hours. The secrets he must know about Carlisle. The insight that he could offer us on this quest ahead of us.

Screw Eleazar. This guy would probably be more help to us in the long run.

But I was tired. I felt drained and weak. I was afraid to close my eyes because I wasn't sure yet which dream world I wanted to exist in.

Jazz helped me into the Impala and we decided to stop for some lunch before hitting the road.

I clutched the nametag in my hand all the way back to the diner.

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

"That'll be ten-fifty," the guy behind the counter told me.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my last twenty. I handed the order to Jazz and he headed out to the car. As the kid collected my change I stared at the photo that had bug the shit out of me the other day.

I realized the guy in front of me was also in the photo.

"What is that?" I asked, pointing to the picture.

He looked over his shoulder and then back at me. "That's the staff picture that we took a few weeks ago," he told me, handing me my change.

I looked closely at the picture once more. "Who is that?" I asked pointing to the blond girl. I still couldn't place why I thought she looked familiar.

"That's Cris," he said.

I stared at the photo for another minute, completely tuning out the kid asking the people behind me where they would like to sit. That face…the girl…Cris?

I walked back out to the car. Jazz was shoving fists full of chilly fries in his mouth as I reached for my burger.

"What?" he asked, noticing the way I was staring off into the distance.

"She wasn't her," I mumbled under my breath.

"Who wasn't who?" Jazz prodded.

"Eddie?"

I shook my head. "The girl…there was a photo on the wall of the staff. The girl in it…she wasn't the chick we met."

"The dead girl?" he asked.

I nodded.

"What does that mean?"

I shrugged. "Don't know."

I was bled out of answers for the moment.

We pulled out of town. I noticed Jazz turned on to the east-bound highway.

"Where are we going?"

"A wise guy once told me you have to start at the beginning to get to the end," he offered.

I smiled to myself.

Carlisle used to say that whenever Jazz was jumping to conclusions in a case.

"St. Louis?"

He nodded. "St. Louis."

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

Cris PoV:

I stalked my way forward from the shadows of the cave.

The screech on the wind warned that my pet was close. I could hear the clergyman's cries and they were sweet music to my ears.

His body flopped against the stone floor when my pet released him.

I smiled to my darling, thanking him for his hard work. In a flash of a light he disappeared, his form returning to my arm once more. I ran my hand lovingly over my arm.

"Where is she?" the priest blubbered. "You told me…that I could be reunited with my daughter…"

"Shhh," I hushed his sobs with my fingers against his lips.

I smiled. "And so you shall."

"What are you?" he asked, his eyes belying a guilt that would ensure he would walk the wasteland of purgatory without the hope of salvation.

I knelt down before the holy man, sizing up his miserable excuse for an end.

"I am the first of many," I promised.

"You can't succeed," he begged hopelessly.

This coerced a second smile to my lips.

"We already have. And you played your part beautifully," I assured him.

Tears welled in his eyes, cries of anguish and forgiveness fell from his lips.

My knife slipped along the fragile flesh of his neck effortlessly. His blood drained into my waiting chalice with a rush of warmth.

"Mors excepit," I vowed, drinking the blood with a moan of pleasure.

I drained him dry, leaving no trace of his blood behind. There were those in our community who could learn from my skill in that matter.

The messes left in the Cullen homes were ghastly crude displays. There was absolutely no need to be sloppy.

Licking my lips, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed.

"It's done," I said.

"I have his scent. And we have his mind."

Hw2HHw2HHw2HHw2H

A/N: Okay, come on, I know you have to have some questions after this one. Lay them on me. I can't promise I'll reveal too much but I am very interested to see what you're thinking.

I know, I know…if you've ever read other fics of mine you saw a name appear in this chapter that you've seem many times before. All I'll say about him at the moment is he's gonna be so much fun to write and hopefully he'll be fun to read.

Lyrics: Eye of the Tiger by Survivor

Lone Pine Mountain Devil: Although no real-life pictures of the creature exist, there are supposedly videos of it on YouTube. The animal has been featured in many recent events. A popular belief is that the creature attacks any person or animal which disturbs the ambiance and inner peace of its natural habitat. A wider expansion of that is that any person, or animal which disrespects nature, wilderness or doubts the existence of the creature is targeted by it. Although there is no significant mention of the creature, famous accounts of priests describing the creature themselves do exist. One early account by a priest described them "winged demons" sent from the "depths of hell." (Wikipedia)

Mors excepit: Death is welcomed. (Google translator)