A/N: Just as a little heads-up, this chapter features some interaction between Jacob and Renesmee that is a little creepy - not because he pervs on her, because he really doesn't, but because she behaves the way she's been behaving throughout this entire story. She wants an army of drones and he's a part of that. ALL SHALL LOVE HER AND DESPAIR! Brace yourselves, because it isn't going to be pretty.


Chapter Nine

1 Ever since Renesmee had been born, the mornings at the Cullen household went the same way: she woke up, wanted blood, wanted to face-touch everyone and show them not only what she'd dreamed about, but also individual visions that were meant only for the recipient to see – well, the recipient and Wardo, since Nessie didn't exactly try to hide her superficial thoughts from him. She always showed Jacob the same things: visions of her as a grown-up, holding his hands, smiling, telling him that she loved him.

Oh, yes, Nessie had always had an adult mind. That stupid little 'I was born ready' saying? Yeah, in her case, it was actually true. The problem was, he had no idea if she knew how tormenting these visions were, how wrong it felt to think of her as someone who would once be a grown woman, who would once be his. It wasn't like she was a sadist, or anything. No, that was Creepula's domain. He was sadistic as all hell and, these days, didn't even bother pretending otherwise, anymore. Jacob had never seen anyone so much at ease at the prospect of an all-out, game-changing war with a clan of super-powered werewolves.

No, Nessie was not a sadist. She couldn't be. She was too precious, too sweet, too good, too perfect. She was too insecure, too. All she wanted was love and devotion. That was certainly not a crime. Every morning, when she woke up, Jacob brought her a blood-bag. She'd smile at him, and everything else just faded, somehow, became grey and blurred and unimportant. He'd sit down by her side, let her touch his face, see what she wanted him to see, listen to the music of her little voice as she talked. She was a little girl, and he loved her like a daughter, or a little sister. He didn't want to see her being all eager to grow up, to become his girlfriend, but since this was all she showed him, there was no escaping those terrible, disturbing, awful thoughts. In a sense, it felt as if she were just as imprinted on him as he was on her.

My Jacob, she called him in these visions. Mine. Forever.

Forever, he couldn't help thinking, feeling poisoned and unclean for it.

God. This was so, so fucked up.

The first thing he did, after their little party returned from the cluster-fuck that had been the meeting with Sam, was grab a blood-bag out of the fridge and carry it up to Nessie's room. She'd be waking up right about now; it was always the same every single morning.

As he entered the room, he saw that Queen Bitch was sitting by Nessie's side, grinning like a loon, and that Nessie had her dainty little hand on the leech's face. "Good morning," he said.

"Right on time," Queen Bitch said tartly, since that was the only way the self-important cow knew how to address anyone, especially a lowly werewolf.

Nessie's face lit up in the sweetest, most enchanting smile. It was as if she were growing more perfect every day. "Jake! Come here, I'm thirsty."

Sighing inwardly, he did, taking up Barbie's former spot, as she vampire-flashed to the other side of the bed. Well, there was no love lost between her and any of the wolves, least of all Jacob. "Here you go, honey," he said, and handed Nessie the bag. "I hope Auntie Rosie here hasn't spent the entire night drooling on you again."

"Shut up, mutt," Barbie spat.

"Make me," he replied, smiling wryly, and giving her the finger.

"Don't fight," Nessie said, after draining the bag dry. She touched Jacob's fingers and reached out to Barbie, who hurried to sit down and take the offered hand. "We are all one big family. I need you to be friends."

"Of course, angel," Barbie said, simpering, but cast Jacob a last little black look before picking up the empty blood-bag and darting to her feet again. "I'll go prepare your bath, Nessie, dear. Be right back!" With that, she was gone. Finally.

Nessie focussed all of her attention on Jacob, and Jacob…well. All anger and resentment and fear and worry, it just all wheezed out of him like air out of a balloon, like ash out of an urn. His shoulders slumped. He couldn't fight the warm smile that spread across his face. Everything that had been clogging up his brain – the impending danger, the frictions with Leah, his complicated feelings toward Bella, his guilt over just glossing over what she'd done – it all became colourless, shapeless, meaningless. What mattered was that Nessie was happy, that she lived, that she thrived, that she got all that she ever wanted.

She wanted him by her side forever. He would do everything in his power to make that happen.

"Why does my momma not see?" she asked now, her voice small and insecure.

His heart clenched. The poor girl. All she wanted was to be loved. That was only natural. "It's her special ability, honey," he said, wanting to run his fingers through her hair, remembering her earlier thoughts of their future relationship, and only just refraining from it. He was so squicked out. "Mind-powers don't work on her, only physical ones. She's not blocking you out on purpose. She can't help it."

Nessie pouted, and it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. Christ. Oh, God. "But I want her to see! How can she love me if she doesn't see?"

"Don't be silly, sweetheart. Of course she loves you. You're her baby. There's no-one who matters more in the entire universe – not ever. You hear me?"

"Promise me!"

"I promise. I swear." He sighed, scratched his neck. Man, he was tired, and his neck was aching from the sitting position he'd slept in all night.

"Will the bad men try to hurt me?"

Just the mere thought of that, the tiniest hint of the possibility had cold acid slosh in his stomach. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. His throat went dry. He made himself smile again, but it felt weird and phony. "No, baby. No-one will try to hurt you."

"But they want to hurt you and the others," she said, frowning. "I heard you all talking."

"Nessie, honey…"

"If you all die, who will take care of me? Who will love me? You can't die! You have to live! I need you!"

"Baby, calm down," he said, and before he knew it, he'd scooped her into his arms. No, he didn't think of her as someone who'd once be his girlfriend. She was only a child (adult mind that knew that saw that understood) and she needed to be protected at all costs. "I'll do whatever I can to not let that happen, okay? Everything and anything."

She leaned her head against his chest and grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt. "You need to kill them, Jake. Kill the bad men. Kill them all."

Feeling as heavy as the entire planet, he leaned his cheek against the top of her head and breathed in the sweet, flowery fragrance of her skin. "I will," he heard himself saying. Part of him started to scream in protest, but it was a faint voice at the back of his mind that was easily silenced. "I'll kill them all."

"And the others, Momma and her kind, they need to drink humans," she whispered.

Jacob's stomach lurched. "No, Nessie, I can't allow-"

"Uncle Jasper says that's the only way to make sure we win a fight against so many bad men," she went on, unimpressed. "You have to tell them to come here and listen to me. I'll make them see. I'll make it so they can't say no. They have to do it, Jake. They have to. You all need to live. I need you to live for me, do you understand? What would I do without you? I need you. I need you all, but you the most. They have to be strong and protect you, so you can be there for me."

As gently as he could, he peeled her out of the embrace, took her by her delicate shoulders, and looked into her huge, dark-brown eyes. "Honey, these are innocent people we're talking about, here. We can't kill innocent people just so we'll win. What kind of a victory would that be? We'd be monsters."

"Surviving is not a crime," she said, obstinate. The frown melted away from her face, and she beamed at him, reached out, touched his face.

He saw it: Nessie, in an adult, flawless body, beautiful and radiant, her skin shining faintly in the sunlight. She was smiling, laughing, beckoning to him. She had flowers in her hair.

She was wearing a wedding gown as she approached him, cupped his face, kissed him.

I love you, she told him in her perfect angel's voice. Love me. Protect me. Make this a reality.

He drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils. No! This was so wrong! "Please, don't. Just…don't. I can't. I can't."

"Don't you want to make me happy?" she said, her voice a child's but her tone very much not so. "How can I be happy if you die? I need you. I love you. You're my Jacob. You can't leave me. Please don't leave me!"

Pressing his lips together and closing his eyes, he shook his head. This wasn't fair. How could she ask something like this of him? He couldn't refuse her. He couldn't not do everything in his power to make sure that the most precious being in the history of creation was protected and loved. She knew this, too. Of course she knew this. Not that he blamed her – she wanted to live. She wanted him to live. All was fair in love and war, wasn't it? Damn it.

"I'll do it," he heard himself saying, the words forcing their way out of his mouth despite his mind's protests. "I'll do whatever I have to, and so will everyone else."

"Promise me."

He sighed, opened his eyes again, didn't even try to fight it anymore. "I promise."

She returned his expression, took his big hand into both her little ones, and raised it to her porcelain-doll's face. "Thank you. I love you."

"I love you, too."


2 Because she'd consumed all that human blood barely twenty-four hours ago, Bella's senses had adjusted themselves with miraculous speed. All the way from Edward's (and hers, she guessed) bedroom, she could hear him and Jasper giving everyone the bad news downstairs. She could hear Jacob, Renesmee, and Rosalie in the latter's room down the hall, too. In fact, she could follow both conversations simultaneously without having the world collapse into confusion. That was weird, but true all the same.

She'd spent the night looking at the books in Edward's shelves: Proust, Nietzsche, Kant, Sartre, Aristotle, Cicero. Dawn broke when she realised that none of these books told her who he was at all. What did he actually like? Did he like anything? Living-blood-powered senses and memories or no, she had to admit that she had absolutely no idea. She didn't know the first thing about this person she was married to, this man who had fathered her child.

This made another disconcerting question arise: what did she like? Apart from pretentiously waving about the non-romance that was Wuthering Heights (a book about people destroying themselves and each other out of pride and hate, huh? Fitting), did she ever read anything purely for pleasure? There'd been Renée's romance novels, but Bella had always looked down on her mom's literary preferences for some reason.

What movies did she like? What music did the listen to? What kind of pop culture references did she like to weave into her speech? Had she even done that, at some point? Had she even had a life outside of worshipping Edward and craving immortality?

The truth was, Bella couldn't remember a single thing that she'd loved as a human. The memories were blurred and fragmented and out of reach of her conscious mind. Did she even have an unconscious mind, anymore? She had no idea. This was so depressing.

From downstairs, following the revelation that Sam Uley would come to kill them all in three days, a heated and somewhat desperate discussion wafted up to Bella's ears.

"We have three days until they attack." That was Edward.

"Oh, my God, are we actually gonna have to fight? Can't you go talk to Sam, again? He's just angry, but he's a sensible young man. I know we can reason with him and his people!"

"Calm down, Esme; it'll be okay."

"How will it be okay, honey? We can't defeat all those wolves, we-"

"We can if we feed on humans – lots of them. As many as we can stomach."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Leah, please-"

"Shove it up the rear, Clyde. Nobody cares what you think. As for you, Creepula, what the fuck?"

"Oh, stop being so dramatic, Miss Clearwater. You heard your ex-boyfriend. Either we stock up, or we all die. It's as simple as that. If you don't like it, you can crawl back to him…if your current master lets you, that is."

"Screw you with a blowtorch, you nasty little fucker."

"Jasper, it is out of the question that we drink living human blood."

"Why? Because we'd lose our moral superiority? Who are we even trying to impress, Carlisle? Not that it'll matter once we're all dead."

"I'm not listening to any of this crap. Go to hell, all of you blood-sucking ass-wipes!" The front door crashed shut with a bang.

"She'll calm down. In the meantime, we should all come to terms with one simple truth: either we drink human blood from the vein, and lots of it, or we're completely fucked."

"Jasper, please…"

"What, Alice? Please tell me the alternative, coz I don't see it. We're outnumbered and outgunned, even if we call Tanya and Kate for help, which I don't see happening due to the Renesmee situation."

"We can't kill humans, and that's final."

"You didn't mind other people doing it when you were staying in Volterra. You didn't mind it when Edward here had his experimental phase in the Prohibition Era, either."

"Shut your mouth."

"Or what, dear brother? You'll hate-glare me to death? Wake up. The mess has been made. Now, do you people want to live or do you want to die?"

As Bella looked out at the forest through the glass wall, she wished she could have a heavy heart. This was all her fault, and she couldn't even make herself feel physically ill for it. How pathetic. Maybe if she gave herself up to Sam and his pack, they'd leave the others alone? No, they wouldn't, and she knew it. She'd try, though. She had to do something to make this right, even if it meant ceasing to exist. It wasn't as if she hadn't died once, already.

She listened to Renesmee making Jacob promise that he'd do whatever it took to keep breathing. Adult mind or no, no-one should possess such terrible power over another living being, and any person who did would be tempted to abuse that power. Bella didn't even blame her daughter for acting like this. Renesmee wanted to live. She wanted to be loved. She wanted to be the centre of her family's universe. That was something Bella could sympathise with for very obvious reasons.

"Edward, you should go explain what happened to your wife."

A little silence followed.

"No, Carlisle. She told me that she needs some space." He sounded bitter. "Jasper, you're her new best friend, aren't you? Why don't you do it?"

"Fine by me. I have zero qualms about looking someone in the eye and telling them the truth."

"That's not the only thing you have zero qualms about, it turns out – and here I was, thinking you'd actually seen the error of your ways. I guess I was mistaken."

There was low laughter. "Edward, you can't make me angry. Stop trying to antagonise everyone. It's annoying, and I'm not the only one who is fed up with your attitude."

That's when Bella heard him lightly jogging up the stairs. She didn't turn around when he came into the room. "I should go to La Push and just let them execute me," she said quietly. "Maybe they'll leave you alone, then. I can't let you all paint giant targets on your backs by killing even more human beings and therefore exposing yourselves to Sam's wrath. It's all my fault, and I should be the one to suffer the consequences."

"Oh, you would love that, wouldn't you?" Jasper said, scoffing derisively. "It would let you off the hook, and you could be the selfless martyr who sacrificed herself for the greater good, too. I applaud your courage and your strength of character, Saint Isabella." He clapped very slowly – once, twice, three times.

Bella spun around to him, glowering. "Don't make fun of me!"

He raised his eyebrows at her, a thoroughly amused expression on his face. "Then stop whining. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop making it all about yourself."

"I'm not, I-"

"Yes, you are," he said sharply, and a split second later, he was right in front of her, making her recoil against the glass wall. "All this time, it's nothing but 'oh, I'm such a terrible person! I'm a monster! You should kill me! I should be dead'! I can't take any more of this whiny, emo nonsense! Well, how about you own up to your fuck-up, do what everybody else does, and just learn to live with it? Rolling over and giving up is easy. Surviving and moving on is hard work. Why don't you fight for once, instead of whingeing like a baby?"

For a moment, she just stared at him, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, paralysed. Then, she wished she could cry. Out of force of habit, she heaved a sigh, looked up at the ceiling, and shrugged, hugging her arms to herself. "I don't know how to do that."

"That's why it's called an effort. If it came easy to you, it wouldn't be a fight," he said, backing off a little – only a little. "Did you hear what your daughter and her lapdog talked about?"

She frowned at him. "Don't talk like this about Jacob or any of the wolves."

He waved off. "Fine. Just answer my question." When she nodded, so did he. "She's right, you know. We got a right to live, and if the wolves attack us, we need to be ready for them. We can't win against them like this." He pointed at his yellow eyes.

"But back when Victoria's new-borns attacked-"

"We had the wolves on our side, and the new-borns were very unprepared. Also, vampires and humans are pretty much helpless against my power, but I can't control or even slow down that many wolves at once. It'll help, certainly, but it won't be enough." A mischievous little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Not when I'm weak like this. You thought I was impressive then? You think my ability is overwhelming now? You should see me, feel me at my best."

"This is all too much," she said, hiding her face in her hands, choosing to ignore the innuendo. "Do we even deserve to live – I mean, to exist – if we murder innocent people?" When she felt his fingers close around hers and pull her hands from her face, she didn't resist. His skin was pleasant to the touch. The human blood was doing a real number on her, making her feel good inside this alien monstrosity.

"Bella," he said, staring straight into her eyes, unblinking, as if willing her to finally get it through her thick skull, "they're not people. They're cattle. They're our prey. Stop being so sentimental. You're a vampire now. Act like one."

"But-"

"Do you want to live or do you want to die? It's a simple question that has a simple answer to it."

Wretched, miserable, she looked into his eyes and said, "I want to live," in a small, toneless voice.

The hint of a smile returned to his face. "Good," he said, gave her hands a little squeeze, and let them go. "Now, that's step one taken care of: denial's gone. Step two would be actually acknowledging that we need to refuel properly. You might be the strongest of us physically, at the moment, but you don't know the first thing about fighting. With only us slow and stupid morons as backup, you won't last a minute against a mob of angry dogs."

"I don't want to kill anyone."

His thin, fair eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline. "But you're okay with all of us biting it in your name?"

She bristled. "Of course not!"

"Well, then, get with the times. The fight's coming, whether we whine about it or not. We can only win if we feed the way we were meant to. Yes, humans will die, but try to see it as a 'eggs broken for an omelette' kind of deal. Makes it easier."

Unbidden (beloved precious painful) memories of her mom and dad flashed before her mind's eye. She bit her lower lip and shook her head. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Bella…"

"No, you don't understand," she said sharply, making him snap to attention. "I don't know if I can do this, because if I kill again, I don't believe I'll ever be strong enough to stop. I'm not afraid of the guilt, Jasper. I'm afraid that there won't be any, that the overwhelming satisfaction of the kill will become my greatest addiction. I'll be lost, and all that'll be left will be a monster."

A few seconds ticked by, during which he just observed her calmly, his face betraying no emotion at all. Then, there was a gleam in his eyes, and a very, very subtle expression of satisfaction started spreading across his features. It was a little scary, but it was also – and she had no idea why this thought even crossed her weird, foreign mind – a thing of fascinating, thoroughly inhuman beauty.

"Well," he whispered, "wouldn't that be something glorious to behold."

At that precise moment, there was a knock on the door. Jasper stepped aside, not before giving Bella another weird little smirk, and Bella almost stupidly cleared her throat in her boggled state of mind. The intruder was Jacob, who observed the scene with obvious wariness written all over his face and posture. Bella breathed in and wrinkled her nose. What the hell was that strange smell? Wet dog? It was dreadful.

Jasper chuckled and Jacob rolled his eyes.

"Great," the latter said, "not you, too." Before Bella could stammer an apology, he waved off. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. Look, Nessie wants to talk to everyone. You can come along, too, Bella."

"I feel so included," she muttered sourly, but followed both Jacob and Jasper outside and down the hall. In her mind, there was no doubt that they would end up agreeing with Renesmee's demands the moment she touched their faces and filled their minds with whatever she wanted them to see.


3 From the moment sweet little Nessie had touched Irina's hand for the first time, Irina found herself incapable of saying no to her. It wasn't quite as bad as what was going on with the wolf alpha, or with Rosalie, but it was bad enough. She'd wanted to call…her friend her friend her friend no name he had no name no thinking about his name they were listening; she couldn't. She'd wanted to call her sisters, too, with the same result. Nessie didn't want anyone who might not love her, who might not let her touch them, to come into the fold. Therefore, Irina couldn't alert anyone. It sounded ridiculous when one put it into words, but things were the way they were.

Now, as the little girl touched Irina's face, Irina's mind was filled with images of blood and death and glorious satisfaction, of strength and power and speed and intelligence and invincibility. She saw herself killing, drinking, quenching that never-ceasing burn in her throat. She all but tasted the blood, felt its power running through her body, invigorating it, honing her senses, boosting her reflexes, amplifying her emotions (her memory her love her original love Lyubomir oh her sweet love he would live in her mind forever all she had to do was drink be strong be good). As she stepped away from the child, stunned, she knew that this was the right thing to do; they had to feed properly. They had to eradicate those terrible, hateful creatures who wanted to attack them. They had to kill them all. They had to kill all the bad men. They had to keep Renesmee safe.

Irina's throat was parched and blistering with pain and thirst. The mere thought of chomping down on another goddamn deer, on another black bear, on (how undignified) a dog…it was too disgusting, too revolting even to contemplate. She had to drink human blood. She had to drink it from the vein. Desperate, defeated, anguished, she turned around to face Bella, who was watching the same thing happening to all her companions with wide eyes.

"Bella," she said, and Bella's head snapped to the side, in her direction, "you have to be strong, now. You have to step up and be strong for all of us. We need you to be strong." She just hoped to God that Bella was smart enough to understand what those words actually meant.


4 Irina stumbled out of that room, down the staircase, and out into the front yard. She breathed in the fresh forest air, tried to distract herself from her thirst, tried to think clearly. It was hard. It was so, so hard. Eyes closed, she stood on the lawn, head spinning, throat burning, her entire body aching, and her thoughts repeating themselves over and over and over: I have to feed I have to be strong I have to protect the child I have to love the child I have to feed I have to-

"Are you gonna faint? Coz I'm not carrying you inside."

Snapping out of it, Irina shook her head and turned abruptly to the source of the voice, finding herself face to face with Leah Clearwater, who was squinting with her with unmitigated distrust. "No, no. I can't faint."

"Well, you never know," Leah said, jutting her chin forward, crossing her arms below her chest. There was a hard line to her full lips, and an angry spark in her dark eyes. "You look like you're about to barf."

"I am, in a sense," Irina said, and started massaging her throat. "It's hard to think clearly."

"Shouldn't have let the spawn touch you."

"No, I shouldn't." Irina couldn't even find it in herself to get mad. "I never thought I'd say this, but I wish I was like Bella."

Leah just blinked at her twice, then snorted dry laughter. "I never thought I'd say this, but man, do I feel sorry for you right now."

Irina gave her a weak, pained little smile. "We all have our cross to carry," she said, and started fidgeting with her hair. It wasn't as if she felt compelled to do this, but non-vampires found it unsettling when someone just stood there like a statue. "You, too. I know you wouldn't abandon your brother even if Jacob gave you the choice. I'm sorry about what Jasper said in there."

Leah waved off. "Standard fair for that creep. He was just trying to rile me up."

"He's a true vampire."

Squinting with suspicion at Irina again, Leah said, "Is that a compliment or an insult? Because you sound kind of impressed."

"It's a fact," Irina replied, shrugging. "Our sense of morality shifts drastically when we turn. It's very hard to balance what we feel against what we remember being right and wrong. All he's doing is embracing what he is, not even trying to achieve balance."

"You manage fine enough."

Irina laughed softly. "Well, I've failed badly in the past, but I try." She dug her hand into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone, looking down at it thoughtfully. "I haven't spoken to my sisters ever since I got here. I've got a good friend of mine waiting for a sign of life, too, but I can't call him. I really want to call him, to tell him I'm…fine, but I can't."

Leah snorted derisively. "Re-name-me doesn't want anyone to call outsiders, right?"

"Precisely," Irina said, and nodded.

A minute or so of silence went by, during which both women just stood there brooding in weird camaraderie. Finally, Leah whispered, "This friend…why is it so important that he hear from you?"

Irina's eyes darted up to meet Leah's. Was…wait, did Leah suspect that Irina wanted to call the authorities for help? Maybe she just thought anyone should be told to bring in the cavalry – anyone, no matter who, no matter what supernatural species. Picturing scenes of the most disgusting things she could come up with to keep Edward out of her head, since she had to think English now, she stepped so close to Leah that they were almost touching, and whispered, hardly doing more than just moving her lips, "He would bring the fires of hell down on the child."

Even though Leah's tension at being this close to a vampire was palpable, she stood her ground, and replied, "That'd be one less problem for us. How fast can he be here?"

"I don't know, but I don't think he's far. I can't call him, and Bella is too undecided, yet. It's her daughter."

Leah's eyes flitted toward the house, and her expression hardened. "Give me your phone, quick." Irina did, and Leah slipped it into her own jeans' pocket. "Guy's name?"

"Demetri."

Backing off from Irina, Leah snapped at her, "For the last time, you stupid leech, no! I will not let that little freak touch me! I don't care what you think!"

Irina heard and smelled the person this little show was meant for: Rosalie, who had just come out of the house. "But you'll understand if you see!"

"Get the fuck away from me!" Leah scoffed again, glared at the direction of the house, and raised her middle finger. "What are you looking at, Barbie? You know what? You can all just jump up my ass! I'm gonna go and try to talk some sense into Sam!" Without waiting for a reply, she stomped away.

Unable to help herself, Irina whirled around and saw that Rosalie meant to follow, but was joined by Carlisle, who held her back.

"Let her go, child," he said, grave and solemn. "She has to try it. It won't help, but she has to." He focussed his attention on Irina. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Irina said, making herself smile. It wasn't even that hard. "I'm okay." She felt it, too. Yes, she might be hampered by her connection to Renesmee, but she wasn't helpless. She was not a victim. At least she'd managed to do something useful, even if it would probably result in her death. If the child was killed, chances were that the ones she'd touched would not be cured, and if that was the case, the Volturi would have no other alternative but to eliminate them, too.


5 Leah remained human as she ran as quickly and as far away from Castle New Money as she could. Jacob and Seth were in wolf-form right now, and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to overhear her thoughts. Chances were, they'd attack her. Dear Nessie wasn't her greatest fan as it was. If things went even further downhill, Leah now had no doubt that the spawn would demand she be taken down.

About half an hour later (and with the friendly help of a Forks native giving her a ride), she found herself smack in the middle of town, with no vamps or wolves within earshot. As calmly as she managed, and wondering if this desperate measure wasn't the stupidest thing she'd ever done, she ducked into a lane between two houses, pulled Alaska Blonde's phone out of her pocket, and called the only number labelled 'D'.

It rang three times.

"Irina."

"I'm afraid Irina is unavailable, so you'll have to make do with me," Leah said lowly, looking about herself and feeling stupid and paranoid. Silence answered her, and she had to give the leech props for just waiting to see what would happen and not giving away any intel, either. "You're Demetri?"

After another moment's silence, a hesitant, "Yes, I am. What happened to my friend?" was said in perfect Queen's English. Oh, good – Evil Brit, the vampire. Wonderful.

"Don't worry about her; she's fine. She just can't call you," Leah said, and rubbed at her forehead with her free hand. All this conspiracy crap was giving her a headache, and it seemed a little pointless, what with their impending doom by werewolf justice and all that. "Look, I don't know about vamp protocol, but I'm guessing you're one of those government people who throw vampire babies into the fire, right?"

There was yet another little pause. It was weird that on the other end of the line, the guy didn't breathe. At length, he did, though, because he clearly needed oxygen to talk. "What's your name, and what are you? Before you protest, no, I can't just give information away to anyone random – to someone obviously not human or vampire." He could hear that from her voice? Impressive.

Still, she couldn't resist the – admittedly childish – impulse to roll her eyes. "My name is Leah, and I'm not your concern. We got ourselves a situation on our hands with a half-vampire child that's eating everyone's minds and turning them into her drones. Irina can't call you because the kid won't let her." She blew out a sharp breath and closed her eyes for a spell. "We need help, even if it's from leeches…I mean, vampires."

"You're one of the wolves," he said, "and the child is Isabella Swan's daughter."

Her eyes flew open. Adrenaline shot icily through her veins. "How do you know that?" Was this another mind-reader? Great. Just what this melodrama needed.

"I've just been told," he said, using that toneless, impossible-to-interpret voice all of them spoke in when they didn't specifically try to emote. "Where are you? I would very much like to speak with you in person. It's important."

There was something in his voice that made her blood run cold and her throat constrict. It was probably just her instincts getting the better of her, but ignoring them would be dumb, which she tried very hard not to be on a daily basis. "I don't think so. Just…do something about that goddamn demon-spawn, and whatever you do, don't let her touch you."

"Hm," he made, after a moment. "I can't do that without more information, and I'm willing to bet you won't provide me with what I need over the phone."

She blew out a heavy breath. "I'm not gonna walk into a trap, thank you very much."

He deliberated on this for a moment. Finally, he said, "You have a lovely home, Leah Clearwater – very lovely. Your people are not very accommodating, but I wasn't expecting a warm welcome, anyway. Don't worry, though; I'm not sensitive enough to take offense."

The cold was replaced by waves of heat. Her whole body started trembling. "If you've done anything to hurt my people, I swear to God-"

"Your people are fine. I spoke with some of them, and they very reluctantly shared some information with me about the current state of affairs," he said, and chuckled. "Then, they kicked me off their land. I'm staying with Charlie Swan and Renée Dwyer, Bella's parents."

Before Leah could finish thinking, Good on them, on behalf of her fellow wolves, dread crunched her innards in an iron grip. "You brought them here?"

"They brought themselves here. Listen, Leah," he said, adding the last bit quickly, obviously anticipating protest, "we all don't have a lot of time for mindless chit-chat, and I for one don't have the patience to guide you through it all over the phone. Now, why don't we both sit down together like the civilised individuals that we are, and talk? I've got questions."

Oh, I bet you do. "I'm not walking into a trap. What part of that do you not understand?"

"No trap. Meet me at the Forks Coffee Shop in…fifteen minutes?"

She ground her teeth together. Well, a public place couldn't be too bad, but this still went against everything she believed in. What else was she supposed to do, though? Desperate times and all that. "Make it ten." She disconnected the call. There was no need to ask him what he looked like. Even if these things didn't stand out like a sore thumb among humans, their smell was something she'd recognise anywhere.