Jumper

Emma gives herself a diagnosis and runs into some trouble.

Genevieve

Sitting on the swanky couch, I stared at the coffee table. On it were my credit card, driver's license and switchblade. Next to them was a medical dictionary I'd found in the 'library room' of this mansion. The binding had never been opened, even though the book was fairly new. Glaring down at the definition I'd turned to, I read it again.

Retrograde amnesia: Amnesia in which the lack of memory relates to events that occurred before a traumatic event.

So I'd given a name to my new condition, big whoop. It didn't help me at all, only told me what I already knew, that I remembered nothing from before the 'accident'. Running my finger over the letters, I felt another pang of frustration. I couldn't stay in this house forever, but I had no idea where I was, no idea how to 'jump' away, and no idea where to go. I hated feeling so helpless and stupid; I wanted to be in control again. I wanted the truth; I wanted the mysteries to end. Everything I'd been told was flying through my brain, trying to be analyzed to see if they were lies. The number one thought? The man named Josh's comment that we were 'in love'. When I brought up his face in my head, I couldn't deny that he was cute, and the déjà vu and the possible memory of a kiss I'd felt just by looking at him could be counted as evidence…but I couldn't be sure. I had no friends, no one I could count on to help me remember, and that was possibly the most frustrating thing of all. With a sigh, I stood up, closing the book and gathering up my belongings, stuffing them back into my sock. Picking up the duffel bag (I carried it with me everywhere, just in case), I wandered back to the kitchen. As I sat on the bar, it happened.

The ceiling by the fridge started to disappear.

God, no, stay here, stay here, stay here! I urged silently, letting my fingers clench around the edges of the granite counter. The darkness halted as I actually noticed my fingers for the first time. It wasn't the room that was disappearing. It was me. My fingers were translucent, even though they were holding tight to a real object. Transfixed, I let go of the counter top but clutched my bag tighter with my free hand, observing my other hand at the same time. The room stopped disappearing as I watched the translucent-ness race up my hand and arm. STOP! I ordered, and it flickered for a second before continuing. Seconds later, darkness surrounded me. Then I was falling through a glass display, bottles clinking and smashing around me, drenching me in a foul smelling liquid. I struggled to my feet, disoriented, and felt blood drip down my arm; I'd cut myself on the glass as I fell through it. In the low lighting, I got a look around and realized that I was in a gallery of some kind, almost like a museum.

"How did you get in here?" A gruff voice demanded, and I leapt in fright as a cold, strong hand closed around my forearm. I hadn't heard anyone approach in the stillness of the large room. His appearance was eerie. "Take her bag," The man added as I turned in his grasp, getting a look at him and paling. He looked like the other vampires I'd met, cold, pale, and dangerous. Another cold hand pried the strap of the duffel bag from my hand.

"Come on, Genevieve will want to deal with his herself." Said the other man, and the man holding me shrugged, tightening his grip and dragging me after his companion. I considered fighting back, but I'd had quite enough of vampires. Dread stole over me as we got into a silent elevator, heading up. I was seriously in trouble now. Jump. I thought frantically in my head, trying to get myself to do it. Nothing happened, and the elevator stopped. The man dragged me off after his friend, marching us down corridors until we reached a door, which we went through. The room in front of us was incredible, large and oval shaped. The walls were full of floor-to-ceiling windows, letting in a fantastic sky-line. The Eiffel Tower could be seen a few miles away. Sitting at a tiny circular table for two was a woman. She had black hair cropped close to her head in a modern, pointy style. She had a mug next to her, and an ashtray. Inbetween two of her long, pale fingers was an antique cigarette. Her nails were painted blood red. She wore a tightly tailored ash grey suit and black stilettos.

"Ce qui s'est produit?" She asked sharply, turning. Her eyes were black; a vampire, then. She looked from her thugs to me, her eyes watching my blood drip to the floor. (What happened?)

"Nous l'avons cette fille trouvée dans la collection." The guy holding me answered in broken French, pushing me forward. (We found this girl in the collection.)

"C'est impossible!" The woman said, standing up and walking closer. I took a deep breath and took a step back. I was going to get it now, she'd probably suck me dry and then chop me into little pieces and throw me in the Marnes River. "Comment avez-vous le faire il?" She asked, taking my chin and looking at me. Seconds later, she let go, looking satisfied. "Vous êtes un jumper." She said, sounding sure, looking at me smugly, and chills went up my spine. I didn't know French, but I understood perfectly what she'd just said. "Laissez-nous." She told her burly men, and they left, shutting the door behind them with a resounding click. (That's impossible! / How did you do it? / You're a jumper. / Leave us.) "I have never met one like you. Jumpers are hard people to…locate. Sit," She insisted, walking back to her little table and picking up her cigarette again. "Sit." She ordered when I just stood there, unsure of what to do. She hadn't killed me yet…was that good or bad? "My name is Genevieve." She started as I slowly sat down. Her voice was heavily marred by her French accent; English was obviously her second language. She gave me a look, so I responded.

"Emma." I said stiffly, still keeping pressure on the gash on my arm. It wasn't that big, but I was surrounded by vampires who were probably tempted to drain me right now. Suddenly, it prickled sharply, but I ignored it, keeping my gaze fixed on this woman.

"And why did you jump into my collection of antique absinthe?" Genevieve asked sharply, tapping the cigarette butt into the ashtray, fixing me with an eagle eye stare. "And why have you not…the term is 'jumped' away, no?"

"I can't." I said shortly, looking out the window to avoid her gaze. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Genevieve raise her eyebrows and take a draw on her cigarette.

"And why not?" She asked, sounding like she was suppressing excitement. My hand clenched into a fist around my knee, and I turned back to glare at her. If she thought that my confusion, fear, and inability to jump was a good thing, she was a sick bitch.

"I have retrograde amnesia." I threw back at her, peeking under my hand and blinking in shock. The cut was gone. Gone. Before I could register this astonishing development, Genevieve pressed on.

"Explain, s'il vous plait." She ordered, snubbing out her cigarette and fixing her beady gaze on me. (please)

"I woke up two days ago in a room I didn't know surrounded by people I didn't recognize. I don't remember who I was before that room." I cut it down to two sentences, wishing I'd disappear.

"Was there a man named Bishop there?" She asked slyly, and I bolted to my feet, shaking the table and staring at this woman, eyes wide. How did she know that?

"Did you know him?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended, remembering clearly what Bishop had done to me, and wondering what else he'd done that I didn't remember. Suddenly, this situation seemed a lot more dangerous. This woman had been excited when I'd mentioned that I could no longer jump. She knew who Bishop was…was she involved?

"I created him." Genevieve said, taking a sip of her drink, but her eyes never left me, analyzing my confused expression. "He called me two days ago and asked about how to kill a jumper." She continued, setting down the cup into the saucer and I froze, watching her warily now. My mind was reeling: she was involved in my past, even if she might've helped to destroy me.

"What did you tell him?" I asked through gritted teeth, watching her. If I'd lost my memory because of her-

"Why, what you've already demonstrated for me. Jumpers are fascinating beings." She said, gesturing to my arm, which was already fully healed; nothing but a faint pink line remained. I looked at it, then back at her, unsure. She knew things that I needed to know. I wanted to ask her, but she'd basically admitted to helping Bishop hurt me. Was it worth the risk?

"What can you tell me?" I asked slowly, and she smiled, fangs on clear display.

"That depends, Emma. Sit. We shall…exchange information." She said, gesturing to my chair. I slowly sat back down, hands holding tight to the table. "Advanced Jumpers can heal themselves like you demonstrated by jumping healthy cells over damaged ones. Jumpers, for all of their amazing skill, have one weakness." She said, running one finger over the rim of her cup, but watching me with that look. "Magnets," She said clearly, and I raised a hand and traced the circular burn on the side of my neck, frowning. "They usually kill Jumpers with long term exposure, especially the stronger magnets. However, they can erase memories." She said, and I felt my forehead crease. "What happened to Bishop, or do you not know?" Genevieve changed the topic, and I nearly objected until I remembered that she wanted something in return.

"Two vampires came in and killed him." I provided harshly, and she tapped her chin with one of her long red fingernails, watching me critically.

"Do you know who those vampires are?" She asked, and I raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. The longer I had information to give her, the longer I had for her to tell me things.

"That depends. Where did Bishop live?" I asked back, and she leaned back, watching me with hard eyes.

"In Boston, Massachusetts, United States." She recited, and I looked out the window, feeling my excitement mount. I had a place, a starting place. I'd lived in Boston, Massachusetts. Maybe I could find answers there….if I could get there. "The names." She reminded me, tapping the table top with her fingernail to get my attention.

"Rebecca and Aidan. There was also a werewolf with them called Josh." I said, and she started to chuckle, looking out the window and lightly shaking her head.

"I should have known. Aidan and Bishop have always…disliked each other." She chose her words carefully, turning back to me, expectant.

"Why?" I asked, trying not to demand it. I didn't believe that Genevieve was lying to me. Why would she? She hadn't killed me; she'd wanted information.

"Bishop created Aidan almost two hundred years ago." She replied, taking another sip of her drink. "Now." She said briskly, clapping her hands twice. The door opened and the two men came back in, standing at attention. "You will be staying with moi. We have much more to learn from each other. I have a feeling you will be very useful. Come. I will show you all I know of your kind." She stood up and took me by the arm, walking quickly out of the room. "Venez. Porter le sac." She said bitingly to the men, and they followed us. (Come on. Bring the bag.) Heart beating fast, I let Genevieve nearly drag me through hallways until we reached another door. She hastily opened it and pulled me inside. We were in a small square room. All of the walls were covered in bookshelves, but there weren't many books. There was one table in the middle of the room, and it was covered in notebooks and scraps of paper. "This room is full of my notes on 'Jumpers'. This is all I know. That door," she pointed to one on the left, "leads to a room where you will stay. Tomorrow we will discuss your future." She said strongly, leading me to the table and sitting me down. Before I could protest, she whirled around and nearly flew out of the room. One of the men set down my bag and then closed the door, and I distinctly heard it lock from the outside.

"Great," I muttered, getting up and checking the door, just to make sure. Then, with a sigh, I picked up the duffel bag and went through the other door. The room was actually better than the swanky house I'd disappeared from. Setting my duffel down, I walked back into the other room and sat at the table and started shifting through the notes.

oOoOoOo

"Aidan et Rebecca et Josh." I purred, walking into my own quarters and picking up my cell phone, going to the computer. After some wrangling, I found Aidan's number through Bishop's files. Bishop had really been careless when it came to underestimating my power; I'd hacked into his systems a long time ago. "Ce doit être un plaisir." I said to myself with a grin, dialing the number and lazily putting the phone to my ear. (This should be fun.)

"Hello?" Aidan sounded guarded as he picked up his cell phone, and I didn't blame him. An untraceable number from France calling me would make me nervous too.

"Bonjour, Aidan. We do not know each other, yet we are…connected." I started to goad him slowly, and I heard him take a quick breath. This was my favorite part of the game; being infuriating and in control made me feel alive.

"Who is this?" he demanded, and I laughed softly, going to the window.

"I believe I've found something of yours. Have you lost a Jumper, Aidan? Quelle honte." I tutted, and for a moment, there was only silence over the phone. (What a shame.)

"How did you get this number, Genevieve?" He asked, putting two and two together, making me smirk as I took in Paris. I had to give him credit for holding back his emotion for this long. Emma had to be a friend of his, only if someone Aidan cared about was in danger would he have even dared to try to kill Bishop.

"I have connections. I also have a Jumper here who is so lost and confused…it seems she doesn't remember who she is anymore." I said with mock sorrow, but grinned when I clearly heard his fangs slide out over the phone; I'd pissed him off. When he didn't say anything, I continued, inspecting one of my fingernails. "You may have her when I'm finished…for a price, of course."

"I want her now. What do you want?" Aidan demanded, and I laughed softly again.

"You may have her when I'm finished." I repeated, letting ice edge over my words. "If you still want her when I'm done, you may…in exchange for your pet." I let my mind wander for a moment as Aidan thought it over. My very own werewolf to study! The possibilities would be endless…

"Fine. May I at least come to see her?" Aidan asked, and I pondered for an agonizingly long time, even though I'd already made up my mind. I could almost hear his impatience over the phone.

"I'm afraid that will be impossible. However, I will send you…let's call them…updates. You will not be left out of my process." I hung up then, sliding the phone shut with a satisfied smirk. If Aidan thought there'd be anything left to Emma, he was mistaken. Jumpers fascinated me, and now that I had the perfect test subject in my grasp, I wouldn't let her go. I'd study every inch of her…the outside and the inside.

oOoOoOo

"Who is this Genevieve person?" Josh demanded, leaning against the kitchen table. He'd taken Emma disappearance the hardest, blaming himself for not doing more. He angrily raked a hand through his disheveled hair, glaring at the table top.

"She's Bishop's creator." I sighed, drumming my cell phone against the table.

"And how did she get Emma?" Sally asked after shaking the house.

"How should I know?" I shot back, rubbing my forehead tiredly. "Look, Genevieve is all the way in Paris. I could go over there, but she'd probably have me killed on the spot." I added as Rebecca put her head in her hands.

"There has to be something we can do." Sally said miserably from next to the microwave.

"I think there is." Rebecca said suddenly, sounding hoarse. She disappeared and reappeared a few seconds later, notebook in hand. "These are all the places Emma jumped to on accident. Maybe-maybe there's a pattern in there somewhere. I'm going to go. I'm going to get this analyzed, ok?" She quickly turned and left. Seconds later, the door slammed.

"This is insane." Sally whispered, and the house shook again.