Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

Er, thanks (I think?) to the AngstyGoddess for her shamelessness in encouraging certain aspects of this chapter. And as always, snuggles, hugs, and big thank you's to ElleCC for her brilliant betamagick.


Call no man foe, but never love a stranger.

—Stella Benson

(o)(◌)(o)

There was a half-second where Edward tried to read the new vampire's thoughts. It didn't really work. They weren't in English. Or Spanish. Jasper's words "What news from La Capital, Mazatl?" were stamped down and spit up in a sequence of syllables that caused Edward to rock back on his heels. He didn't understand a word. Though Mazatl's pointed chin, broad nose, and amber-honey skin showed clear distaste at Jasper's entrance, his thoughts were a puddle of crossed x's and too many t's.

"He's Aztec," Jasper explained out of the corner of his mouth.

Across from them, Edward watched Mazatl, watched him smile in a slow curl, not unlike the bright slope of long talon.

But Maria was the one who spoke. The words dripped out of her mouth, and Edward's mind seemed to coil in its shell as he failed to recognize the sounds until the new clicking of words halted in an abrupt smile, and she said, "It seems like we might have an opportunity." Her voice was steady, but Edward detected an almost-shiver to her thoughts, the face of another vampire came floating into her mind—only to disappear. Maria was excited, though. Edward was sure of that. This new vampire, Mazatl, had brought good news.

"Well...?" Jasper urged. He looked anything but pleased.

But Maria turned to Edward. "Edward, would you be a dear and head down to the main chamber? I think Millie and Carlisle are having a reading session down there?" She chuckled, before turning away from him. "Thank you," she finished, and Edward realized he was dismissed.

He cast a quick glance at Jasper, only to see him locked in a direct stare with Mazatl. The coldness of the connection was enough to make him hurry his steps. He went into the anteroom, lifted the cellar hatch, and descended into the caverns.

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward kept his head ducked low as he made his way into the main chamber. In the veins of the caverns he could hear the thoughts of the other newborns. They were talking about Mazatl. Jasper. Maria. Him. The huddle of fast-speaking Mexicans huddled by Lucy's skull was talking in quick Spanish, but the group of American southerners he could hear—both in speech and thought.

The dark-haired fellow from Mississippi was speaking to the other two. "Last time he came, Maria tore apart Lupe like dog flesh—but this time she's all right." She even gave us seconds, despite Peter's infant taking half the batch.

"I just don't see how we're supposed to manage Monterrey and take on the new plans."

"Then you haven't seen how this coven operates."

"Yes, I have. Slave ship." Like flies in a web. "One slip up and..." He slid his finger across his throat.

One of the vampires laughed in response, while the other—the one with the reddest eyes—cringed, casting a glance at Edward. Samuel said they only keep the best—and they've already chosen him. Maria looks at him like ripe fruit.

Edward jerked away as he caught the vampire's eyes. He hadn't meant to do that. He hadn't meant to see the ice in them, the cruelty beneath the normal-seeming worry. If Jasper were here, he would have known. Shaking his head, Edward moved across the chamber, hugging the wall and its steeped columns. Up ahead, he could hear the soft intonations of Carlisle's voice mixed with the soft reply of Millie's.

"...I don't see why we're so hung up on Kittie. She made out pretty well."

"She broke from societal rules." It was Carlisle's calm voice. As Edward rounded the corner he came into a full visual: Carlisle perched on the end of a flat rock, and Millie and two other vampires on either side of her. "She almost ruined the reputation of her entire family."

Millie made a show of yawning, her small hand flipping to cover her mouth with ridiculous drama, but then her eyes flitted in Edward's direction. "Edward, do you like that... book?" She pointed at the volume in Carlisle's hands.

Pride and Prejudice.

"Never read it," he answered and he drew closer.

"It's stupid," Millie said with a pout, crossing her arms and frowning at Carlisle.

"What happened to your..." Edward paused—if he were human, he'd be blushing..."other book?"

"We finished it!" Millie exclaimed with total delight. "But then I let Carlisle choose."

"But this book is nicer," said another one of the newborn females, and Edward recognized Elisa, the newborn from his fight with Ciro. "It's... romantic," she finished, almost shyly.

"Ew," Millie grumbled.

"Millie, there is nothing wrong with love—or family as themes," Carlisle said.

"I didn't say anything was wrong with themes. I just think they make for boring plots. Can we read Frankenstein next?"

"I suppose..." Carlisle started to say, but he didn't finish.

Edward was barely able to anticipate Millie's sudden outrage, because suddenly she had wheeled around and was nose to nose with Elisa. "Stop staring at him!" she barked.

"I wasn't—" Elisa began, already backing away. But she had been—she had been focused on Carlisle. She still was. His face, the soft-sharp features, the golden halo of his eyes, the way they were shaped in her mind. Elisa thought Carlisle was handsome, sweet, beautiful—and Millie had picked up on it.

"You can't lie to me," Millie countered, matching every scoot that Elisa made with a step forward. "He's not yours to stare at."

Edward took a step forward and then stopped himself—he didn't know how he'd handle Millie.

"Millie, stop," came Carlisle's frustrated sigh.

"No."

"You promised."

"Not this." She took another step toward Elisa.

"Millie, please stop."

Edward was shocked to see Millie pause, but then came the troubling surfacing of her new thoughts, and even more, a slightly malevolent smile came across her features. "I'll stop if..."

"If what?" Carlisle asked.

"A kiss," Millie said.

"That would break our deal."

"I didn't say you'd be kissing me." Edward saw the image flash in Millie's laughing thoughts at the same time that Carlisle's eyes flicked in his direction.

"No."

"Fine," Millie snapped, and she grabbed Elisa by the neck, even as the newborn tried to slip away.

Elisa uttered a "No" that was sharp on then first n, so very clear, but then slowly faded out on the final vowel, one long ohhhh that trailed down the length of Edward's spine as Elisa draped into Millie's arms, her mouth going slack as her eyes grew unfocused.

"Millie..." Carlisle hissed.

"Carlisle..." Millie cooed back, half-giggling.

Edward was lost between the two-worlds: one in which Elisa was drowning in the lullaby, and the other, a perfectly logical one in which Millie and Carlisle seemed to be negotiating a ceasefire.

"Whom do you want him to kiss?" Edward demanded, even though he knew the answer.

Carlisle averted his eyes at the same time that Millie grinned. "Why the prettiest boy in the room... can you guess?"

"Ciro," Edward deadpanned.

Millie laughed, actually releasing her grip on Elisa's neck, and then she walked toward Edward, swaying her hips as she walked, her tiny gold dress glowing pepper red in the lantern light. "No, no, no. You're the prettiest. Sweet, sweet Edward with the pretty mind. You're definitely the prettiest, and I'm not the only who thinks so, am I?" With the final whispered question, she kneaded her fingers into Edward's.

It wasn't as intense this time. The edges of his vision faded but he could still distinguish Millie, he could still make out Carlisle's words—"He doesn't have to..."—he could still denote the pull and then the push. When he looked up, even with Millie's hand in his, he could depict every crystallized pore in Carlisle's face.

Millie's voice was only somewhat distant. "I'll be good, I promise. Just a single little..."

Before him, Carlisle was shaking his head, but Edward found that with each passing unit of time, Carlisle's lips were closer. Edward was somewhat baffled by it all. It was just a simple request? And with this feeling pulsing inside him... wouldn't it feel better just to feel—to touch—and press? Edward nudged forward, his eyes shutting as he angled toward Carlisle, toward the awaiting mouth.

The lips were stiff. Cold. But Edward kissed them anyway, guided by the quiet reassurance that held his hand. He knew that this was silly. It was just a kiss. It shouldn't be cold.

But then the lips moved, and Edward tasted first the slip of wet, and then the darker sweetness—the serpentine dive of the deepened kiss. A hand rolled down his shoulder, caught his bicep and held him, gripped him tight, and made him sway with the new imbalance of their bodies, while all the while the lips against his went from gentle nips and the softest of pulls to a mash of furious sucks and almost bites and there were nails in his skin. A hand tugging on his lower back and then at the edge of trouser pocket and down...

Edward was still lost to the lullaby when the small girlish hand slipped let go and backed away. At first it didn't matter. At first, Edward used his free hand to grab the man in front of him. Edward swayed with the body pressed against his. He kissed and was kissed back. The fabric beneath his fingers stretched and pulled and Edward was thinking about skin... about wanting more... when the euphoria faded and the images-words-intentions began to fill his mind.

Edward. Human. Alone on the hospital cot. The lantern light illuminating the sweat on his brow. A pale finger pushing a sweaty lock off his forehead. — Edward distant among the pines. Racing. Racing. Running. The wind. Would he come back? — Edward's haloed face as he sat next to Jasper on the couch. His Edward. His—and something more, something that shouldn't be, something that was there and growing no matter how he tried to smash it down...

Edward paused. He halted. His mind searched the room, even as Carlisle's body continued to respond to him. But Edward couldn't let go. The visions left no room for doubts or lies. It was like Elisa. It was like how she'd looked at Carlisle—but so much more extreme. Carlisle was attracted to him. Carlisle wanted him. Carlisle was in love with—

He shoved Carlisle off, backing away, even as he heard Millie's groan of disappointment and saw the shock and horror dawning in Carlisle's face, as he watched the avalanche of thoughts, the tide of regret.

Edward looked around. He wanted to scream at Millie, ask her, "How could you?" He didn't, though. Instead, he turned to see Jasper and Mazatl standing in the doorway. Mazatl was looking annoyed, but Jasper... his jaw was set. His eyes were fire red. He was angry, Edward realized. Jasper was furious.

"Millie—" Jasper started.

"—don't you start! You liked it too!" With her hand on her chin, she sighed exaggeratedly in Edward's direction. "So prrrretty..."

"Millie, we're leaving. Five minutes."

That ended her pout. "Seriously?"

"We've got an expedition to the capital. That..."—Jasper gave her a look—"one we've talked about"

"Oh. All right then." She stood, fluffing out her dress. "Who else is coming?"

"Peter, his newborn—"

"—Uck. I hate babies—"

"And Edward." Edward looked up, and in his periphery, he could see Carlisle doing the same. "That's right, Shakespeare, you ain't coming along," Jasper called to Carlisle.

Carlisle didn't say anything. He seemed to slump back against the wall. He wasn't looking at Edward.

"And pretty boy, you're coming with me. Now."

"No, I'll take him." Millie bounced in front of him.

"No. You're going to get Peter and Charlotte." And with that, Jasper grabbed Edward's hand. "Edward is coming with me."

Then they were walking, Carlisle, Millie, and the rest of the vampires were figures, then lines, then dots, and then the curve of the cavern made them disappear completely. Jasper and he came to the fork where the right leg split off toward the cabin and the left split off toward some darker channel, and Edward had to dodge the wall as Jasper pulled him left, and they descended into the depths, away from the lantern light, and away from the voices and thoughts of the rest of the coven.

Jasper was still running when Edward halted. Jasper still had his hand on his wrist, so Edward's entire arm was yanked, but still, he held his ground.

They were just standing there, in the total darkness. The both of them.

Edward felt it more than saw it when Jasper lunged at him.

He didn't move out of the way. Therefore, when Jasper tackled him, they both toppled back, sliding across the slick cave trail, slipping amid the puddles in the dark until they stopped with a screeching of rock. Edward lay silent as Jasper pinned his hands above his head. His eyes searched the total darkness as he felt the beats of Jasper's breath on his lips, he tried to decode the thoughts, but he couldn't really make heads or tails of the mess—too tangled.

It was after a long moment that Jasper said, "You're not fighting me."

"What am I fighting?"

"Me."

"Why?"

There was a huff, followed by the cursed acquiescence in the thought, and finally Jasper spat, "You were supposed to learn. Why in God's name do you think we've been doing all this training? This is not daisy picking. That b— Millie wasn't supposed to be able to force you."

"How do you know she forced me?" There was no strength in Edward's voice as he asked.

"Same way I knew about the Don and the barmaid. I put all the pieces together. Millie was popping like corn in a kettle. Little heartsick Elisa had wounded pride and a bit of the green monster. You had all the say-so of a lamb being lead to the butcher—and goddamned English was—"

Edward cut him off. "Fine."

"Fine."

"So...?" Edward was trying to sort through Jasper's thoughts. Trying to decipher what the fuck was going on.

"So you need to learn how the fuck to use your talent."

"How am I supposed to do that if we're headed for the capital?"

Jasper didn't answer, but he loosened his grip on Edward's hands. He was starting to pull away when Edward asked, "Were you jealous?"

The question took even Edward by surprise, but it had sprung from his lips as the image from Jasper had filled his mind. The set of thoughts: No turning is selfless. Lips that shouldn't be there. There was the way the thoughts seemed to heat as Edward's hand pushed into Carlisle's hair in Jasper's memory.

"I—" Jasper started, but then he stopped. He stopped, laughed with a hysteria that sounded almost cruel. Edward was still sorting out the thoughts when Jasper leaned down, so close that his nose was brushing Edward's. Their cheeks brushed as Jasper leaned to whisper in his ear. "Jealousy is the wrong word."

Jasper's hands tightened their grip once more. Teeth grazed the edge of his ear. The length of Jasper's body pressed into him, so hard it almost hurt—and then he was gone. His body removed.

Jasper was heading up the tunnel once again. "I'll be up in the cabin," he called.

Edward couldn't even find the right swear word.

But he was sick of this. Sick.

(o)(◌)(o)

He was back at the fork in the tunnels when he ran into the "older" vampire. Mazatl. The shadowy quality to his skin became clear in the lantern light. Edward almost hoped to brush past him and pretend they have no mutual business, but Mazatl stopped him, stepping in front of him and blocking his way.

When he spoke, his accent was English-sounding, like Carlisle's but flatter. "You're Maria's ace in the hole, yes?"

Edward paused. He didn't like the vampire's tone, and he especially doesn't like that his thoughts were such a jumble of languages. It made it even harder to understand him than the others. "I'm just doing my part until I can get out of here."

"When you get out of here..." Mazatl head cocked ever so slightly to the side at Edward's words. "That assumes an exit."

"It does." Edward wished he could take several steps back from the vampire. He wasn't sure how much Maria had told him, even though he seemed to be in her confidence.

"I have a question. Do you like Jasper?"

Edward scowled. "Not at the moment."

Mazatl's face didn't change. "What about the yellow-eyed one, Carlisle is his name?"

"He's my... He created me. That—the exchange from before—that was because of Millie."

"Mildreth could use a leash."

Edward almost smiled, but then Mazatl leaned in close. "It's not a straight shot. There are other options, especially for one so 'pretty' as Mildreth says. If you want, I can be an exit."

The words were said in an even tone—but the images—the implication of the thoughts—the violence.

"You mean—you'd want me to—to—" Edward took a step back.

"Service me." Mazatl looked him up and down as he said it.

Edward was too appalled to answer. He didn't even know how he could answer.

Mazatl either didn't notice his disgust, or he was enjoying purposely provoking Edward. There was a bored laziness to his voice as he said, "We will see. The information I provided to your coven is valuable, and if it leads to a successful raid, maybe Maria will let me have you anyway. She's reasonable."

"She wouldn't."

Mazatl frowned at him, giving him a look that was both at once condescending and sinister. "Don't be so quick to cry. Once upon a time, she even lent me Jasper. He was new and malleable back then." Mazatl smiled, slow, and wide. His teeth were in perfect order, but they reminded Edward of acid paper from old books. It made his throat seize up.

"I—no. No, thank you."

Mazatl dipped his head, like they'd just had a perfectly polite conversation. "Just remember. You might be the ace in the hole, but the ace only matters in certain games. There are many games where the ace is just a face card. It has no power." Mazatl swished his hand through the air, cutting at the empty space.

"No, thank you." Edward repeated, staring at the ceiling. He was grateful that his voice didn't tremble, and then he pushed past Mazatl and half-ran up the tunnel.

Behind him he heard the trailing of words: "Someday soon you'll be saying 'you're welcome.'"

Edward closed his eyes and ran.

He was glad when Mazatl's scent disappeared and the earthy odors of the cabin and the cellar filtered into the tunnel. He would find Jasper. No matter what that creep had told him—the coven wasn't like it used to be. Because Jasper was a leader, too, and Jasper wouldn't let that happen. Edward knew it in his gut. Maria might be conniving, but Jasper was faster, stronger, and in control of his talent—more than Edward was—and someday Edward would be in control, too.

He would learn. He would get better, like Jasper had said. It would be all right.

Edward was at the ladder. He was about to the push open the hatch—when he heard them.

"Si. Si. Si," Maria repeated, and the image—her eyes were flicking from the paneled ceiling to the bunched sheets at her side—and then she arched up. She arched and she moaned, and there was the undeniable image of Jasper, Jasper with his trousers ripped down, the laces undone. Jasper with his head thrown back. Jasper with his—Edward could see the base of it—moving in and out between Maria's thighs.

Jasper was fucking Maria.

(o)(◌)(o)