A/N: Just to keep your minds at ease regarding future events, dear readers, I would like to assure you that I will not pull a SMeyer and send everybody home at the end after a civilised conversation. Having a ton of build-up and then no actual climax would really suck, and I aim not to do so. There will be no cop-outs in this story, which means the resolution, once it comes, won't be simply sunshines and daisies - YE BE WARNED. This is a vampire story and vampires can be really nasty pieces of work. Also, consequences and all that jazz.

As always, thank you very much for reading and for your thoughtful reviews. I try to take everything that is said to heart.

Chapter Ten

1 They'd taken the flight from Jacksonville at seven p.m., stopping at Houston, reaching Seattle around midnight. The drive to Forks took almost four hours due to several construction sites on the road, but luckily, one of the group wasn't human and needed no sleep. Demetri offered to drive, which both Renée and Charlie, who were dead on their feet, accepted gladly. He'd already rented a new car before they left Jacksonville. They were hardly off the car park, and the two humans dozed off. Small wonder, really, considering how incredibly worn-out they were from all the emotional stress. Maybe this whole deal could be resolved without tipping them off to the existence of the supernatural. In that case, they'd be allowed to live. The odds of that happening, however, were pretty slim, considering how conspicuous the vampires here were, and how much weirdness had piled up ever since said vampires had shown their sparkly faces in this part of the world.

The problem was, since the Cullens had a precog who Saw decision-based futures, there was no deciding to simply show up at their doorstep – not if he wanted to catch them unprepared. Sending Irina had been the obvious choice, but she'd disappeared. Sending yet another vampire would probably yield the same result, potentially strengthening a hostile force in the process. In other words, doing the same thing twice and expecting a different outcome was more than stupid.

There was no doubt in his mind that the Cullen family had fucked up royally. Something bad had happened, and it wasn't just them trying to hide a new-born. Why they'd changed Bella right here, in the middle of civilisation, was beyond his comprehension. Why hadn't they taken her to Denali, where the chances of her running amok and butchering hordes of humans were much slimmer? This was badly thought out – all of it. Either they really were that stupid, or they had been unable to move her for some reason. If the latter was true, it had to be a damn good one. He was inclined to lean toward that hypothesis, if only because of Irina's continued radio silence. That was so odd and out of character for her. She was a quiet and thoughtful woman, but she held a grudge like hardly anyone he'd ever met; she would not change sides for any reason other than coercion.

When they reached Charlie's house, Demetri was almost loath to wake the poor humans, but it had to be done. Charlie set Renée up in Bella's room and wanted to offer his guest his own bed, but the guest naturally declined and said the couch looked great. Little later, the two mortals were sleeping soundly again, and even though Demetri wanted nothing more than head on to the Cullen mansion and finally find out what the hell was going on there, he stayed in the house, in silence, unmoving. Patience was a virtue, and in this case, lives depended on it.

2 Very early the next morning, right after dawn, Charlie came down the stairs into the kitchen seemingly ready to go. He looked rested, clean, and very much determined. That was good; a man with a clear purpose tended to have a clear head.

"Sleep well?" he asked, fumbling with the coffee maker.

Demetri, who'd been sitting by the table for the past two hours checking the local news, put away his phone, and said, "I did, thank you. You look much better, if I may say so."

Charlie glanced over his shoulder, smiling wryly. "You may, and thanks. Haven't had a good night's sleep in forever." The coffee was brewing. He turned around, leaned against the kitchen counter, and thoughtfully looked down at his guest. "Let me ask you a question, kid: how well do you know any of these Cullens, anyway?"

Demetri shrugged, pulled the sleeves of his grey sweater and black jacket over his hands, and said, "Not too well. About a year ago, I think, two of them visited us in London: Alice and Jasper."

"Ah," Charlie said, made a face, and scratched his neck. "I like her, but the boyfriend's a weirdo."

"I thought they were, uhm...how do I put this" – He scratched his neck, shrugged, and chuckled – "flashy."

Charlie blinked at him and then snorted dry laughter. "Yeah. That's a pretty accurate description. They're flashy, all right, and they just love to wave wads of money in everybody's faces. Just between you and me, I think the glitz and glamour is what Bella fell in love with, not that pompous little prick Edward." Two seconds later, the amusement got wiped from his face, and he frowned down at his shoes. "Would you look at that? First time I mention my little girl in casual conversation ever since…" He pressed his lips together and breathed in deeply.

"I'm so sorry," Demetri said quietly. "I wish things weren't the way they are." That at least was the unabashed truth of the matter.

"Yeah, that makes two of us, son," Charlie said, and motioned in direction of the living room. "I woke Renée up before coming down here. She's taking a shower upstairs. We should be ready to head to the reservation in less than an hour."

"Good." He smiled a little. "Thank you for taking me with you, and for allowing me to stay in your home."

Charlie gave him an almost imperceptible little nod. "Sure thing. We're in this together, anyway, right?"

"Right. That we are."

3 They drove up to Billy Black's house in Demetri's rental, but with Charlie behind the wheel this time. The weather was beautiful, even if the air was cold. The sun was out, but that wasn't a problem for a man who knew how to apply foundation. It might not be considered very macho in this kind of cultural climate, but that didn't matter. It was preferable to sparkling in the sunlight, in any case.

The moment Charlie parked the car and they all got out, the house's front door was opened, and a middle-aged Quileute man came out in a wheelchair. He was wearing a decidedly hostile look on his sharp-featured face, glowering at Demetri like he was trying to banish the Antichrist. Well, right now, he would have to live with it, like it or not.

"Charlie, Renée," the man, presumably Mister Black, greeted unenthusiastically. "We weren't expecting you."

"Hey, Billy," Charlie said, walked up to his friend, and shook his hand firmly. Renée did the same. "Sorry to barge in on you like this, but, uh" – He shoved his hands into the pockets of his parka and cleared his throat – "we kind of have to talk to you."

Mister Black gave Demetri a very cold look. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, right," Charlie said, briefly glancing at Demetri. "This is Matt. Matt, this is my friend, William Black. He's Jacob's father." He locked eyes with Mister Black again. "You know how Bella just disappeared, and we were all fed that sob story about a mystical disease no-one had a name for? Same thing happened to his girl."

"Sorry to hear that," Mister Black said, deadpan.

"Thank you, sir," Demetri replied, smiling. He could smell non-humans in the vicinity, but they weren't actual werewolves – not the kind that he was familiar with from Europe, at least. Interesting. His superiors would want to know everything about these creatures he could find out.

"Thing is, Billy," Charlie said, kicking at the gravel with one foot, "we need to talk. We know that you know something, and we won't leave until you've come clean."

"And we're done listening to excuses," Renée added, her voice friendly but determined. "No offense."

"None taken," Mister Black said, glaring at Demetri. "I just don't get what you want to hear from me. I don't know anything. You should really go talk to the Cullens, they-"

"Billy, enough!" Charlie's eyes narrowed. His face was livid. "I've had it with this crap. I'm sorry, but I don't believe that you know nothing. The Cullens won't talk to any of us, and you won't talk to any of them. Something happened, and I am here to get some answers. Don't push me away. Please."

For a while, it seemed that he wasn't going to budge, but finally, Mister Black turned around the chair and wheeled it back into the house. "Come on in."

"Thank you," Charlie said, his voice still strained, and followed him briskly.

They all sat down in the small-ish, but lovingly decorated living room – all three visitors on the worn, grey sofa, Mister Black facing them.

"I'll tell you what I know," he said, very obviously unhappy. "Your daughter married a stupid, arrogant, racist, self-important idiot who endangered her life and exposed her to something deadly. My son decided to spend all the time Bella had left at her side. We urged the Cullens to get her the treatment she needed, but they refused, and she died. I haven't spoken to my son since that day, because he won't admit that they killed her through their inaction."

Charlie and Renée stared at him, exchanged a look, and stared at him again.

"What did my daughter die of?" Renée said quietly. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but her jaw was set and her voice did not tremble.

Mister Black returned her look squarely. "A parasite. Edward Cullen infected her with a parasite, and that is what killed her. It was his fault. They tried to hide it, tried to take care of it themselves, but it killed her."

Both Charlie and Renée's eyes grew wide. They looked positively thunderstruck.

"What, uh" – Charlie pressed his knuckles to his lips and cleared his throat again – "what about the other girl, Irina?"

"I don't know about her, but if she was infected, too, then she's probably gone." Mister Black glared at Demetri again, who did his best to look shocked.

In his mind, however, the nomisma dropped. Of course. There could only be one explanation for all this oddness. All the pieces were now coming together. Needless to say, these were terrible news. Well, at least now he knew what he was up against, even if the mere possibility was more than just a little unsettling. He'd dealt with this kind of critter before, even though each was unique in its own right. It had to be a dhampir. There was no other plausible explanation.

"You got to arrest them, Charlie," Renée said tonelessly. Her face was paper-white, a stark contrast to her bright-red sweater. "They killed our Bella through negligence."

Charlie shook his head. "We need proof. Can't do anything without proof."

"You can prove that they lied," she said. "They made up all this bullshit about clinics and the CDC, and none of it is true."

"We can't prove that, either. It's a they-said-we-said if we can't prove it, Renée." Charlie rubbed at his eyes and exhaled sharply. "I need some fresh air. Excuse me." Woodenly, he got up to his feet and stomped outside, followed closely by his ex-wife.

That was it. Moment of truth. Demetri focussed his full attention on Mister Black. "They turned her in a hurry, didn't they? They turned her because they had to, and that parasite? It's a child, isn't it? Edward knocked up his blushing human bride because he's an idiot who doesn't know the first thing about his own species."

Mister Black just looked at him coldly, chin up, jaw set. There was something very regal about that, about him. "You need to leave and never come back. Your kind isn't welcome here."

"Well, that's a shame, given the fact that my kind has allowed you to live, even though werewolves of all variations are our self-declared enemies," Demetri said, slightly tilting his head to the side, not taking his eyes off Mister Black's. "I, however, am not your enemy, sir. I'm here to deal with those morons, the Cullens. I thought you'd be glad to hear it. You want them gone. I am happy to oblige."

"You've allowed us to live?" He arched an eyebrow. "Boy, you should count your blessings that I'm allowing you to leave this place in one piece. Just find some excuse for Charlie and Renée and get out of here while you still can."

"I know all about the treaty, and I know that by turning Miss Swan, the Cullens have broken it," Demetri went on calmly. He was sure that Edward did not realise that by touching Aro's hand, back in Volterra, he had not only given all of his own thoughts away, but also every thought he'd ever eavesdropped on, as well. Hiding the wolves from the Volturi after the interlude with all those Seattle new-borns had been utterly pointless. "I wonder: has she already killed civilians?" He saw Mister Black's pupils widen and couldn't help but smile a little. "She has, then, and now, you have no choice but to attack them. I take it your son has defected to their side? He's a wolf, too, am I right?" Again, no answer came. "Interesting. So you're willing to fight your own just to see justice served. I understand that; I do."

"I don't care what you understand and what you don't. Stay away from my people."

"I will, on one condition: tell me about the child."

"I don't-"

"With all due respect, sir, and excuse me for interrupting, but I think you do." He waited, but Mister Black just stared at him stonily. "I'm not some lowly nomad. I have not just a lot of backup, but very powerful backup, at that. Your little tribe doesn't stand a chance against us. Now" – He raised his hands defensively – "I'm not threatening you. I'm just telling you a fact and making it simple. These half-vampire children are very, very serious business for my people. They tend to be volatile and have unpredictable powers. I need to know what this child is like."

"What do you want with her?" Mister Black said, squinting at Demetri with a healthy dose of suspicion.

"Her? Interesting." He shrugged. "Nothing much. We want to protect the human public from her influence. We want to keep our world a secret. We want to minimise the loss of life. That's why I'm here."

"You just want that kid?"

"We want to bring justice to the Cullens, too, but if you're already gearing up for that, we won't stand in your way."

"You don't interfere with our justice, and we won't interfere with yours," Mister Black said flatly, after mulling everything over for a minute. "You don't kill on our land. You-"

"I don't kill at all, not unless circumstances force my hand."

"You keep your claws off my people, my son, the Cullens. They broke our law, and we will punish them for it as we see fit."

Demetri leaned slightly forward. "Done. Tell me about the girl."

"There's only one thing to tell," Mister Black said, unsmiling. "Don't let her touch you – ever. If you do, you'll be lost."

That would explain Irina's silence. This was worse than he thought. "All right. I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for your cooperation."

"Yeah, right," Mister Black muttered, and scoffed with pure disdain. "Now get the hell off my land."

Little later, the trio left La Push and returned to Forks. Charlie said he'd be heading to the station to put an end to his leave of absence. Renée asked to be dropped off at the local library to do some research, even though she didn't specify what kind. Demetri was taken to the Swan house after Charlie told him that the best thing he could do was to stay out of the way.

Once alone, he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his trousers and called Chelsea.

"Talk to me, handsome."

He was standing in the kitchen, looking out the window at the empty street. A breeze was shaking up the trees, blowing red leafs swirling into the air. "It's a dhampir."

There was a beat of silence. "You're kidding."

"I wish I were, but I just got confirmation from the local brand of werewolves. Isabella Swan was turned because she birthed a dhampir."

On the other side of the line, Chelsea whistled lowly. "Who would've thought that stick-in-the-mud Edward Cullen had it in him to not shoot blanks?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation and despite himself, Demetri had to grin, feeling juvenile. "I wouldn't have thought it possible, either," he said, snickering like a thirteen-year-old boy. How very ridiculous. "It's true, though. Also, the Cullens have ignited a war with the wolves for allowing new-born Bella to murder humans on their land."

"Well, that was colossally stupid of our dear friends, although I shouldn't be surprised, really. Do you know what kind of power the dhampir has?"

"Yes. It's basic tactile mind-control, as far as I can tell. Sounds like she's building herself a loyal collective of protectors."

Chelsea sighed theatrically. "They're always so melodramatic and starved for love, those things. Okay, then. Nothing for it. I'll inform the bosses. I suppose Caius will want in on the action, given the wolf situation."

"The chief of the wolves warned me not to get involved in their revenge. Shall we let them duke it out?"

"I'd have to ask, but I don't see why not. We can decide what to do with the survivors later. The dhampir is our priority, though. You did a great job, sweetheart. Well done."

"Why, thank you," he said, tracing his fingers across the kitchen counter, pulling up one corner of his mouth in a crooked smile. "I aim to please."

"Oh, don't you ever," she said, and laughed. "Okay, seriously, though: stay out of sight and earshot of the telepath and the precog. We'll be with you shortly."

"When?"

"Two days, no more. I'll convince Caius to bring Corin – which shouldn't be too hard – Renata, the twins, and your best mate. He misses you, you know."

"Of course he does. I'm the best thing that ever happened to that poor sod."

Again, she laughed. "You're evil, and I'll make sure to pass on the love-note. Anyway, take care, and I look forward to seeing you again."

"Me, too. Oh, and do send my best to your charming better half." He disconnected the call. As he was about to put the phone away, it rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he raised his eyebrows. This was odd. At once, he took the call. "Irina."

"I'm afraid Irina is unavailable, so you'll have to make do with me," an unknown, female, not human voice said very lowly. All right, then. Things had now officially got even more interesting.

4 Warily, prepared for really anything, Leah walked into the eatery in question – it was a simple, sparsely decorated, but clean and pleasant place – and immediately spotted the Evil Brit sitting by himself at the back of the room, nursing a steaming cup. Okay, she hadn't exactly expected a moustache-twirling douche in a flowing cape, but she certainly had not pictured a skinny kid with a mop of emo dark-brown hair falling into his white-washed forehead, or a cutesy face. Not that it mattered one bit what the guy looked like. Looks could be oh so deceiving, especially when it came to leeches.

The vamp's eyes immediately zeroed in on her. He…what? He smiled jovially and waved, looking honestly happy to see her. Huh. Weirdo. Eyeing him with even more suspicion, Leah slowly approached him, taking in his appearance as she did so. He was wearing a grey turtleneck sweater, a black jacket, and a dark-blue scarf like a right yuppie, and looked a little like an eighteen-year-old who'd stolen his metrosexual dad's leisure clothes. Yikes.

When she reached his table, he was still smiling. "Hello, Leah, it's so nice to make your acquaintance," he said, and motioned at the chair opposite him. "Please, have a seat."

Hesitantly, she sat, keeping tense and straight as an arrow. What was with this guy? She looked about, but there was no-one in close proximity to overhear them if they kept it down. "What the hell were you doing on Quileute land?"

He held his hands over the steaming cup and nodded. "Yes. That. I'm sorry I intruded, but I really needed to find out what was happening at the Cullen estate without alerting the precog. It was a breach of protocol, but an excusable one, given the circumstances."

Her dark, thin eyebrows shot up. "Alice? You're doing this whole song and dance routine of dragging Charlie and his ex out of Florida, traipsing into the reservation, and playing spy because of Alice?" She couldn't help herself. All the tension of the last few months, the constant anger and worry and disgust over aiding the natural enemies of her kind, all the crap she'd taken from Jacob and Seth and the leeches, the certainty of looming death, it all…well, it all just kind of collapsed in on itself. She burst out laughing, burying her face in her hands.

"Something tells me that it was a futile exercise," he said flatly.

An unknown, female voice belonging to steps that approached their table said, "Can I…get you anything…hon?" She sounded insecure.

"She'll have a coffee, too, thank you," he said, and the steps receded. "Whenever you're ready."

Finally, Leah was. From the pocket of her jeans, she pulled a handkerchief, blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and tried hard to stem the flow of giggles still erupting from her like a geyser. "Oh, man," she finally said, and nearly apologised to the vamp. "Yeah. Wolves and demon-spawn around, Alice can't See shit – just so you know." She crossed her arms on the table and looked at him again, saw that he'd pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, and that he was cradling that cup as if his life depended on it. Arching one eyebrow, she said, "Wait a minute, are you actually feeling cold?"

He nodded, raised the cup to his lips and – with rather well-disguised revulsion – drank from it. That must not have been easy. "Bitter. Anyway, yes, I…tend to get cold a lot."

"But…aren't you supposed to…I don't know, not?"

"It's psychosomatic." Again, he drank from the coffee, saw her watching this, and snickered. "How would it look if I didn't drink anything, ever? Suspicious, right? Mustn't have that."

"You're really trying to blend in, aren't you?" She briefly motioned at his face with a jerk of her chin. "Not sparkling in the sunshine, either, I see." They were sat by a big window, bathed in the golden light of a cloudless morning. The weather was so nice, it was deserving of purple prose. "Are you wearing foundation?"

"What else do you suggest I do?"

A waitress brought Leah coffee, which she acknowledged with a nod and a smile. Once the young woman had hurried away again, Leah frowned a little, and said, "You sure you're a leech?"

He squinted a little and chuckled. "That's a very unflattering moniker, I have to say, but yes, I am."

"Gonna barf that up again, later?" She pointed at his coffee. He nodded, and she couldn't help but grin. "Huh. Got myself my first bulimic vamp. How about that?" She sighed and shook her head, picking up her own cup. "Whatever. So, you know why Irina couldn't call you, then? Why she had to go through her own song and dance to reach you?"

"The child. Mister Black told me about her power. He also told me about his people's impending march of justice against the Cullens."

"That's one way of putting it," she said, breathing in the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee and taking a cautious sip. It was very hot. "So, you show up at the reservation, get the heads-up from Billy, of all people, and…" She trailed off and shrugged. "Now what? You people got a law against half-vamp brats? Coz everyone I know, except for Alaska Blonde, is adamant that she is unique."

The boy, who was probably much older than she was, but didn't look a day over twenty, shook his head. "She isn't. Most, uh…leeches" – He smiled amiably – "can't procreate like that. We can have sex whenever we want, for some reason unexplained, but most of us are on the lower scale of the sperm count. How did my friend put it? We shoot blanks."

She stared at him out of wide eyes, lips pressed tightly together, feeling as if caught in a bizarre yet very lame 90s sitcom. First the set-up to a cop-buddy comedy with Bella frigging Swan, and now a sex-ed class with a vampire? This was too much. She harrumphed and drank more of her coffee. At length, she had herself under control again. "O…kay. So, some of you can obviously knock up a girl, and when that happens, an unholy abomination is born every single time? That's certainly nature's way of telling you to practice safer sex."

"I can't really find it in myself to disagree with you. As for your question: well, every dhampir is different. Some have terrible, almost unstoppable powers you really don't want to know about if you value your beauty sleep," he said, calm and smiling. This was the weirdest kind of harmonic dissonance she had ever seen in real life. "Others have what the one you know has: tactile mind-control. She can bind people to her by touch?"

Leah shuddered and nodded. "You can say that twice. She puts pictures in your mind – visions. It's super creepy. It doesn't matter if the visions are true; whoever she touches and sends them to can't help but believe them. I've seen how it works. It's like part of who she touches gets erased; they get replaced by pod people. The more she touches a person's skin, the more devoted that person becomes."

"I gather you were the one who got away."

"Not entirely, no. I'm still stuck with them due to my pack situation, but I'm pretty sure you already knew that." She scrutinised him carefully – his boyish, symmetrical, sharp-featured and thin face – and wondered when exactly she'd taken the wrong turn that led her down this path, ending with her having coffee with a goddamn vampire. "You haven't answered my question. What are you gonna do now?"

After forcing another sip down – it must taste like soap water to him, or something equally repulsive – he said, "I have come to an agreement with Mister Black: we, that is my friends and I, will not interfere with their justice. They will allow us to take the girl."

"Renesmee."

"Gesundheit."

She chortled. "No, that's her name. The demon-spawn's name is Renesmee."

He gave her a comical look of disbelief that almost sent her over the edge again, the gravity of the circumstances be damned. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh," she said, sniggering. What was wrong with her? It wasn't even funny – not really. "Since I'm probably gonna die three days from now, anyway, and you're my only hope, Obi-Wan Kenobi, it doesn't matter if I spill the beans: Jacob, Billy Black's son, is imprinted on the demon-spawn. That means she's destined to once bear his werewolf babies of some shit like that, and he is literally incapable of not following her orders. The wolves are forbidden from hurting an imprint. That means trouble if you want to freak-nap Re-name-me while Jacob's still breathing."

The serene smile stayed right where it was. "Yes, I kind of figured that Mister Black wanted to set me up, or at least make sure some of my people got killed without us blaming his people for it. Thank you for the warning."

"I'm getting used to working with you walking Yankee candles, so whatever," she said dryly, and waved off.

"Yankee candle?"

"Never mind. So…what? You just watch us and Sam's pack annihilate each other, and when no-one's looking, you'll stuff the spawn into a burlap sack and sneak away? Brilliant plan."

The smile turned into a rather self-satisfied smirk. "We're getting the spawn before the epic battle of the heroes takes place."

She squinted at him. "Did you just quote a title out of the Star Wars: Episode Three soundtrack?"

"Two can play that game." He put his cup down. "So, this is where I tell you why I wanted to speak to you in person, Leah. You see, you're not like the werewolves we know in Europe, whose lycanthropy is passed on via infection, and who turn involuntarily every full moon. Still, your people and mine are natural enemies, and my masters do not look kindly on vampires who associate with werewolves. It's a crime, and it's a crime for a very simple reason: wherever our two species collide, conflict erupts. Conflict attracts attention – human attention. We can't have that. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you why that is."

She returned his look squarely and pointed at his – to her – very obvious dark contact lenses. "And you sucking humans dry doesn't attract human attention, you bozo?"

The smile returned. "I don't kill my prey. We don't – my coven. We feed on humans, yes, but we try very hard not to kill anyone."

"How magnanimous of you."

"I mean it. We're stationary, and we live in a tourist town. What do you think would happen if we lured entire groups of people into our catacombs and murdered them indiscriminately? We'd be discovered in a flash. That can't happen. That's the entire reason the Volturi exist: we regulate the vampire world by keeping our kind's natural stupidity and arrogance and god-complex in check. It's a thankless job, but someone has to do it."

"Is killing humans a crime, too?" Not that she believed him, even though his reasoning made sense.

He briefly bit his lower lip and glanced down at his hands. "No, but it's very difficult being discreet whilst murdering several humans for food each week."

"That's what Renesmee is making them do, you know: drink as many humans dry as possible, so that they'll be strong enough to defend her." She studied his face, tried to gauge his reaction, but found nothing she could make sense of. This guy wasn't as chipper and eager to rip people limb from limb as Jasper, but he was oddly relaxed and really had this slick polite façade down. Vampires. What a bunch of freaks. "You were telling me about the Cullens' crime of associating with wolves for a reason. I suspect you're just gonna sit back and wait for them to call attention to themselves when they feed, so that you'll have an excuse to kill them all."

"They're dangerous, Leah," he said, suddenly serious. "They buy houses and inherit their own fortunes every generation. They regularly play the stock market, for crying out loud. It's suspicious. I have it on good authority that they've caught the eye of the Feds, and now, Charlie Swan is starting a serious investigation. They will be caught eventually, and when they are, they'll be found out as not human. It'll make the news. Needless to say, that's the last thing we want to happen."

"Okay, this is getting more bizarre by the second," she said, brushing a rebellious strand of her hair behind her ear. "Fine, I'll just take your word for it. Here's the thing: I don't care if they die. They're murderous assholes who allowed that new-born army in Seattle to be amassed without lifting a finger to stop it. They don't care if we die, either, so there's no love lost on either side. However, I do care about Jacob and Seth, my little brother. He's in the same boat. I care about Sam and his subordinate wolves, too. From what gather, your bosses will want to murder all of us, as well, so…what am doing here, Junior? Seriously, what do want from me? You seem to have it all under very tight control."

"What do I want?" He reached out with his right. "Give me your hand, please."

She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Not gonna happen."

"I won't hurt you. I just need to make sure you're being candid with me. Please."

Oh, great, another Patrick Jane wannabe. Sighing, she leaned forward, reached out, and let him feel her pulse with his cold fingertips. "Knock yourself out, champ."

"Thank you," he said, smiling again. She wished he'd stop doing that. "So, I know that I agreed to honour Mister Black's terms, and I've already passed this on to my superiors. However-"

"You're a lying liar who lies."

"However, I found out that one of my superiors, an ancient Roman, the one who really hates werewolves and has been fighting them for millennia, will be joining us very soon. I suppose he'll want to eliminate your tribe once the Cullen situation has been dealt with. Still-"

Leah gave him a withering glare. "Oh, it's an ancient Roman who's gonna butcher all my friends and family, instead of some lame-ass nobody? I feel so honoured."

"It would help if you'd let me finish my sentences," he said, not sounding annoyed at all, which was annoying all by itself. "My superior, the one who hates werewolves, will honour an agreement that benefits us more than wanton killing. He'll honour it especially if I can convince him that your tribe is not related to our brand of werewolves, and that your people will stop turning once the Cullens are history. That's the truth anyway, isn't it? That you'll stop phasing once the vampires leave the area for good?"

"Yeah," she said curtly.

"Hm," he made, nodded again, and wiped some emo fringe out of his pasty-white face. "So, what I want to know from you is this: if I were to offer you a deal in which you get certain guarantees regarding yourself and your brother, at least, would you consider working with me?"

She raised her eyebrows at him again. "You want me to buy my freedom with the blood of my friends and former pack members? Fuck you. That's my answer."

"What about none of your people dying, only the culprits we were going to punish anyway?" he went on without a glitch. "Would that be acceptable?"

"Maybe," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Just...stop it with these moronic guessing games, okay? You vamps seem to love this shit, but it's infuriating. Give it to me straight: what are you planning to do?"

"Very well," he said. In the background, someone dropped a plate, and it clattered noisily to the floor, breaking. A few patrons hooted and hollered at that. "Two days from now, a group of my friends will arrive here. We'll take care of the situation for you. When the pack from La Push arrives, you and your fellow wolves will be all that is left."

At least a minute went by during which they just stared at each other, and he held onto her wrist. It must look like the sappiest date to an outsider: two young people gawping at one another intently, holding hands across the table. Cute.

"All right," she said, swallowed her disgust, grabbed his actual hand, and shook it once before leaning back again, crossing her arms. "You got yourself a deal." Desperate times called for desperate measures. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but I don't see what other choice I have that's any better. Do your thing, and I will make sure that my two pack members and I stay out of your hair. No wolves die, no civilians die, and you keep your paws off Bella's parents, too. That's the deal I'll take."

"Good. That's good. Oh, there's one more thing," he said, as Leah got up to her feet, ready to leave and breathe some fresh air that didn't smell like Yankee candles and cotton candy and every sugar in the world ever all at once. He cracked a dizzyingly sweet smile at her. "Whatever you decide to do, in the end, Irina is off limits. Whoever touches her gets torn to ribbons. She's my responsibility, and I won't tolerate any harm being done to her."

"Alaska Blonde is the least of my concerns," Leah replied coolly, started walking away, but stopped to look in his direction over her shoulder again. "Oh, there's one more thing: don't ever threaten me again." With that, she strode outside, having no clue whether she'd done the right thing, but knowing that it was better than sitting around doing nothing at all.

5 As Leah trudged through the woods back to Castle New Money, she pushed everything that had happened to the back of her mind and did all she could to repel Wardo with images that would send him running for the hills. He was such a little prude. She also suspected that he was so far in the closet that he'd circled the Earth and gone back in time, but that was a matter of pure speculation. In any case, as long as there was hentai, an effective Wardo-repellent was in place, and that was all that mattered right now in terms of being sneaky. Yes, if she turned back into a wolf, she'd have to double the efforts of keeping her thoughts hidden, but it was doable. Besides, it was only two days. Surely she'd manage to hold out for two days.

Deal with the devil, indeed. No, it wasn't pretty, and she felt the ugly sting of guilt piercing her guts at her betrayal, but…

…but what? Seriously, what? What was her problem? This wasn't betrayal! These vamps here were the reason she, her family, and her friends – hell, her entire community – had been dragged into this maelstrom of supernatural insanity. Her father had died because of the Cullens, because their presence had forced Leah's transformation. Also, the Cullens had left without informing anyone that a vengeful psycho named Victoria might come back to wreak havoc. Dozens of people in Seattle had died because the Cullens had just sat back and marvelled at their own glittery goodness, their thumbs firmly up their own butts. The wolves had been dragged into that mess because of this! If they'd lost that fight, all of La Push would have been wiped out in a haze of crazed vampire revenge. The Cullens had been very much okay with that distinct possibility.

The whole Sam-imprinting-on-Emily disaster, that had ended with Emily getting half her face torn off? That had happened because the Cullens had come back to Forks. Leah's own inexplicable infertility? The Cullens' fault. Jacob getting his brain wiped over the demon-spawn? Cullens. Bella being turned? Cullens. Bella's parents being in mortal danger? Cullens. The entire goddamn town being at risk? Cullens. The demon-spawn and its frightening, unpredictable potential that might just grow strong enough to let it subjugate the entire planet? Fucking Cullens. None of this would've happened if they'd just stayed the hell away from here. All of the other tragedies they were involved with wouldn't have happened if they weren't so damn self-important and self-satisfied.

Those leeches were a menace. They were stupid, arrogant, careless, and self-centred to the extreme. Not only that, but their death-toll numbered in the thousands, at least, according to what Jacob had told her. Jasper alone had gleefully murdered droves of people before joining up. Alice had 'slipped' a number of times. Emmett had 'accidentally' eaten a poor old woman whose blood had 'sung' to him, and that hadn't been the only time he'd gone 'oops, sorry, guess you're dead now' on innocent people's unsuspecting behinds. Edward had run off on a pouty, angst-ridden, decade-long bender, turning into a wannabe vigilante, sadistic serial killer during that time. Rosalie had killed people. Bella had ripped four humans apart on her first day out of the house. Leah didn't know about Esme, but was pretty sure her hands weren't squeaky clean, either.

Great and noble Clyde himself had forcibly turned dying people into blood-thirsty, undead freaks without asking for permission even once. Hell, Esme had tried to die and Rosalie had just been gang-raped to death. What kind of person would go and violate these people, desecrate them all over again, and for the most selfish of reasons? Both Esme and Rosalie had been turned for sex. Esme was supposed to become Clyde's wifie, and rape-victim Rosalie Edward's. What was wrong with him?

Preppy Boy had had the right of it when he'd mentioned his kind's innate god-complex. Christ on a cracker!

They always ran the risk of screwing up over and over again, even when their hive queen wasn't actively ordering them to go and commit mass murder.

It wasn't nice, it wasn't pretty, it wasn't good, but killing vampires was Leah's business. She'd become a wolf for a reason. These weren't misunderstood, peaceful, quiet creatures who just wanted to be left alone. They were murdering assholes who needed to be stopped. No, allying with the vampire government wasn't the bees knees, either, but according to Yuppie Emo Hair, their top priority was to keep out of the media. They wanted to get rid of the Cullens and the demon-spawn. Leah wanted this. Sam wanted this. It was ugly and brutal, but it was necessary. No, she was not going to feel bad about enabling something bloody in response to so much death and misery.

Angry, she stomped through the woods, not paying attention to her surroundings, not caring if she was being loud. She was not going to apologise to herself, of all people, for choosing between a rock and a hard place instead of sitting on the ledge. She was not-

Something hard and heavy collided sideways with her, knocking her into the earth, crushing her beneath it, face down. There was a harsh grip on her wrist. Someone pulled her left arm behind her back painfully. She gnashed her teeth together. Her knee was bent, ankle to her thigh. Weight on her – a body. The air smelled cloyingly sweet. Vampire. Her body started shaking, trembling, she-

"Oh, no, sweetheart. No, no. None of that. Do it, and I'll rip off an arm and a leg long before you can fur-splode. Don't test me."

Ah, fuck, she thought, turning her face to the side, trying not to eat or breathe in dirt. Goddamn it. Jasper.

"Since it's just the two of us out here, in this lovely place," he whispered lowly into her ear, bearing down on her with his considerable body-weight, "how about we have a nice, leisurely chat about what the hell you've been up to?"

Inwardly, she sighed. This was not the time to derail the plan. She forced herself to calm down, to breathe as deeply as she could, to slow down the frantic pace of her heart. Pretending that this undignified position didn't make her want to tear his throat out, that it left her utterly cold, she said, "I'm all ears, asshole."