When Luke and their Pack pulled up in trucks and cars and motorcycles, some even turned into wolves to make the run, Maia couldn't have been more happier. Her Leader had answered her distress call, just like she hoped he would. It wasn't that Maia didn't trust Luke; it was just she didn't think he would come so quickly to a strange place he had never been to, without any knowledge of her predicament, let alone bring their whole Pack. It reassured the mother that her son would be with her soon, in her arms again.

"Luke?" Maia heard the surprise in Clary's voice before she saw it on her face. One look from the corner of her eye at her werewolf friend told the Shadowhunter all she needed to know. Smiling at her step-father, she gave him a hug and then stepped back to greet the other wolves. They nodded in acknowledgement before swarming Maia, wanting to know what was wrong.

One wolf, jumping to conclusions, confronted Simon, demanded to know what he had done to his Pack-mate. Maia was surrounded by the other members, so she didn't see her husband and fellow werewolf's face-off. Simon growled low in his throat, a warning. The stress of losing his son was getting to him, and he didn't have time for such a trivial matter such as the wolves' resentment of his kind. When the werewolf kept prodding him for information, Simon snapped and launched himself at the boy, tackling him to the ground. The wolf, caught by surprise, wasn't ready for the vampire's attack and was thrown back onto the ground with Simon pinning him to the ground.

Now, age plays a factor here. Simon had been a vampire for eighteen years, and this werewolf (while Simon was forever physically young, this wolf could very clearly be called a boy) had just been changed two years ago, so Simon was obviously stronger. Getting in the boy's face, baring his fangs and snarling, Simon hissed,

"Listen here, you brainless flea-bag. My wife is hurting, and that is because her baby boy is gone. You are supposed to be helping us get him back, not being racist. You didn't know Isaac was gone, I understand that, but making assumptions like that aren't appreciated, and can just as likely get you killed." Simon slowly got off of the werewolf, who was too stunned too do anything but lay there. Maia came running over. She checked over Simon and then stood over the boy, hands on her hips.

"Brady, why-for the Angel's sake, why-do every time I'm even a little grumpy you assume Simon had something to do with? Why do almost all of you" she turned to stare at her other Pack mates "think the same thing? What have I told you since the time we started dating to now?" Silence. The werewolf Brady had gotten up, and now every eye-the Cullens, the Shadowhunters, and Luke's-were on this confrontation. The werewolves who did not particularly like Simon hung their heads and fidgeting. When Maia did not get the response she wanted, she barked,

"Well?" Her Pack members looked at each other, and then mumbled voices said in unison:

"That you love him and the fact that he's a vampire shouldn't matter." Maia nodded, then sighed. They were supposed to be here to help find Isaac, but so far the only thing they had accomplished was getting into a fight with her husband, which was actually pretty common, unfortunately.

Esme rescued her by suggesting they go inside. It was a tight fit, and soon the kitchen, downstairs hallway, and stairs were filled, but somehow they managed not to leave anyone outside. After introductions, the wolves were told the story how Renesmee and Isaac had been kidnapped.

"Was it a demon?" one of the wolves asked. Simon nodded.

"Yeah, I could smell it. Some of its blood was on the ground, and demon blood tastes, and smells, horrible." All the wolves nodded in agreement. Their noses were just as sharp as vampires, of which they were proud of. They had been a little wary of the Cullens, but soon warmed up to them. Of course, Esme's warm, motherly nature had helped. Most of them had come from harsh backgrounds, forcing them to run away into the woods, where a werewolf on the hunt was waiting.

They talked long into the night about what to do, and hunt parities where dispatched, but it was agreed nothing could really be done until they knew more. While they saw the logic, the parents of the kidnapped where none too pleased to learn they had to wait.

...
Isaac's P.O.V

Three days.

I checked the scratches Nessie had made in the dirt floor. Three slash marks, one for each day. I felt those seventy-two hours quite clearly, with my thirst growing with each hour. Jonathon came by every two hours to throw in a new blood packet, because he "knew how unappealing old blood is to those with vampire-ism." Every time it was human blood.

I hated that man, and only Nessie kept me from moving inside myself and giving in to the rage I felt. She made me tell her about my childhood, and she told me about hers, and I found out our worlds were semi-similar: her Volturi was not unlike our Clave, and Aro's interest-and fear-in her reminded me of Raphael's monthly visits, "to see how the born vampire in my coven is doing," even though Dad had never considered himself part of the Spanish vampire's coven. I had always doubted the Camilla had ever really been in charge. Or, if she had, then Raphael had disposed of her so he could take charge.

We played truth-or-dare as well as we could with our limited space and resources. I tried bending the bars every couple hours or so, testing how long I could go before the silver burned me too badly. Nessie gave it a shot as well, but she wasn't as strong as me. We did everything we could think, taking each other's minds off our thirst.

I could feel the Change coming. Sudden back spasms, spots between my eyes, intense pain in my limbs, and crazy itching. Whenever I thought I would Change, even if the moon wasn't full yet, I retreated into one of the dark corners, away from Nessie, even though I knew she could still see me. I liked to think she was blind to my crouched form, that the normal invisibility shadows provided were still in effect.

Sometimes I wished the moon would complete its cycle, so I get over with the waiting, the symptoms. But mostly I wished I didn't have vampire in me, so I didn't crave the blood of innocent, slain victims.