You all are just so wonderful. Thank you so much for still following my story after my seven year break there. I will do my best to make sure it doesn't happen again. Also, we're almost back to a review for every 100 hits! Do you remember what that means? A new oneshot! Also, I respond to all my reviews, so, if you review, you get a response and one closer to a new oneshot! Wooo! Come review and tell me what you want to see when we get to our mark :)

So... this is it. I'm a bit nervous... yeah. It's a little heavy and starts earning it's rating here in the next chapter or two, please read with discretion.

Chapter 38

Alice

Before I can so much as explore the house he returns, the door swinging shut behind him before I have time to register it opening. The man currently in his grip is, unfortunately, very much still alive. Not a good sign for either of us. It takes some effort for him to bring someone back so unscathed, so I know that he didn't do it to walk in and kill him here. He has something else in mind.

He sets the man down in the middle of the room, his hand still firmly on his shoulder, keeping him in place. He's probably early twenties and has cropped light colored hair. He isn't huge, but he's well built, maybe a laborer. He reminds me a little of Emmett.

As soon as James' eyes fall on me, his expression darkens.

"Whore, did I tell you to dress?"

This isn't going to end well.

"No, James. I'm sorry." I try to look at my feet, but I can't let him out of my sight, so I settle on trying to convey with my eyes my plea not to do this.

"Then fix it before I tear those rags into ribbons and you have to travel naked."

I have no doubt that he will do just that, but my connection of this man to Emmett is making it even more difficult. I don't speak in front of strange men and now I'm about to strip for one who may or may not know that he's on his last few minutes. Oh yeah, him and the sociopath. Just perfect.

"Yes, sir." I manage, probably only audible to him.

Although the fabric is clearly ripped, I still take the time to unzip it, partly to not rip it further but more to buy myself a second more time. I can't find anywhere safe to look, I don't want to see anything, not myself, not this stranger's response to my black and purple body, not James' enjoyment of his game, but I can't close my eyes, I have to know what's coming next. I slowly slide the dress off my shoulders with shaking hands and catch it before it hits the floor, setting it gingerly on one of the windowsills in hope of keeping it at least the tiniest bit cleaner or out of harm's way for whatever comes next.

"There she is!" James calls jovially, as if I'd run into his arms in greeting, "Isn't she decorated magnificently, boy? I just did that before I picked you up. Good work, huh?"

The man looks right into my eyes, his expression sad. "She's beautiful." He tries to assure me, clearly thinking I have about as long to live as he does.

"You want to try her out before you go? She's not a very good lay, but you won't have much comparison in twenty minutes anyway."

"Um, no. Thank you." His gaze stays on my face. Someone clearly taught him to respect a woman, a rare lesson now wasted as I'm about to have to kill him anyway.

"Well Mary, what a sweet boy. I picked a nice one, didn't I? Very well, the least you can do for the guy is give him a good way to go, you know? You may not be any good in bed, but you're alright on your knees."

My mask has been firmly in place since James reentered the room, but I see the second it dawns on the man what he's talking about. His face contorts in horror, his expression darting between him and me. James' smile probably unnerves him, but my lack of response seems to bother him more. It's as if he's begging me with his eyes not to do it, that he's not worth it, but he doesn't know that he's forfeit already. It isn't a suggestion and I know it. James has come up with his twisted idea and now I have to execute it or he'll kill him, throw him out for the animals and get someone else until I submit. He doesn't know it, but going along with this saves another life. I can't save him, but I can save the next one.

I swallow the bile in my throat and take a trembling step toward him. My face is blank but I can't control the shaking, no matter how much practice I have. He chances one more look at James before deciding he isn't actually kidding and takes a step away from me. I keep walking, seeing before he does that he's backing himself into a wall. I don't know what he sees in my dead eyes, but his face is frozen in the same horrified expression he's been wearing since he put the pieces together in his mind. The back of his heel hits the wall and I shift once in my journey to glance at James, silently asking permission to speak to him. He narrows his eyes, but nods minutely. I'm doing what he asks, there's no reason to deny me my attempts to calm him.

He's run out of room to run away and he knows it. I take the last step to close the distance between us, him fully clothed and me completely naked. He's too tall to whisper too quietly, so I raise myself to my tiptoes and rest my hand on the opposite side of his neck, pulling him gently toward me so I can whisper. I know James can hear, but it gives the illusion of privacy.

"Please. You can't save either of us, and neither of us can stop this, he's in charge and he decides what happens. I'm so sorry you got involved with this. Please consider this my apology, if nothing else."

He has no idea what exactly I'm apologizing for. His eyes cloud in confusion, obviously still trying to form words to object as he continues to shake his head. I put a finger to his lips.

"Please." I repeat, cutting him off. I chant the mantra in my head that I'm saving another by playing by James rules now. My bruised ribs protest, but I carefully lower myself to my knees, one hand trailing down his back along the spinal column to gauge the best way to make a clean kill. I make the mistake of glancing at his left hand and spot a wedding ring. Dear God I'm going to hell. I want to be sick; some good woman is waiting for him at home. Not only is he not coming home because of me, but his last moments will be with me. I risk one more glance into his tortured eyes and speak my last words to him.

"Close your eyes." I make sure to speak loudly enough for him to hear and wait until he obeys before I reach for his belt buckle. "Imagine it's her." I whisper under my breath. I don't know if he hears me, I don't know if I wanted him to.

I make sure the last thing he feels is ecstasy. He was a good man, I can tell from his actions, and I am almost certain he feels nothing of his death. I drain him from the major artery on his thigh, gravity helping more than usual as I'm able to choke down all of it faster than usual. I just want to finish the grisly task and pretend like it didn't happen. James stands by quietly. He didn't tell me I could kill him then, but he hadn't told me I couldn't either, so I don't think he'll punish me for that. He'll probably find something else to punish me for before the end of the night, but I think he'll let me killing him go, as I played along with the rest of his sick game.

I don't take my eyes away as the man's body slides limply down the wall.

"May I please get dressed now, James?" I'm not expecting him to allow me, but I have to ask. The tragedy of the last few moments is weighing heavily on me and I envy the men lying on the ground around me.

"I can see you won't be much more fun tonight. Fine, get dressed and sleep. We travel again tomorrow."

With that he turns back to the doorway, taking both bodies with him outside.

I waste no time getting back to my clothes, not wanting to give him time to change his mind. I keep my eyes away from my skin as much as possible but the drying blood down my shoulder and neck is hard to miss, the deep crimson of both my own and my prey's life source.

I make sure that he's out of hearing range before the first sob comes. I'm here, again. How did this happen? What are the chances that he'd run into me now, after all these years? Only a month ago he would have found me alone. Would that have been better or worse? I honestly don't know. At least then the Cullens wouldn't be at risk too. I would still have my protective shield in place, the one that's kept everyone out until Jasper. Oh God, Jasper. He'll come after me, he might even get hurt. After all that he won't want me when he finally figures out what I am, what I've done. He might give me back to James himself. I just have to hope that maybe one of the others will take pity and keep me safe until I can try to disappear on my own. It won't last forever, but the next time he gets me I know I won't survive it, so I just have to hide until I'm ready to go.

I try to calm my breathing by thinking of my father. I still have his ring, tucked safely on my thumb. I didn't realize it until now, but it's really a miracle that it survived the last round. I instinctively protect that hand because of it, which is probably how it is still intact. It's worn and scratched, much more than it was when it was his, but it's one of the few things I have left of him. That and the rosary. I haven't thought of it in weeks, really, I usually forget that I wear it, but it's my lifeline in hard times. I made it then, and for him, I'll make it now. He died for me, because of me; I owe it to him to try to survive. The artifact has been worn down by the years, the original cord broken and repaired so many times that I had to replace it with a stronger cord and then replace it again when that broke. The beads that were once brightly colored are now all worn to their natural wood grain and the figurine was lost somewhere along the way. I don't know if that makes it worthless for its intended purpose, but it doesn't change its meaning to me.

Mary Alice, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. I hate to think that's true, especially with what I've just done. I doubt the Cullens could forgive me, much the deity of the pious and proper. In my day the 'religious' were the ones who made a career out of looking miserable and making others share in their discomfort, they found no room for mercy or survival. I'm oddly sure they would be in agreement with James' name calling. Whatever my father saw in religion that made him pray for me must have been different, and one time as I was walking through one of the buildings I think I understood, if only for a minute. I've never been able to embrace a group that so openly condemns me, but when I read the stories for myself one night and looked into the eyes of the statues, studied the beautiful stained glass and marbleized passion, I wondered if he himself may have accepted me, even if his professed followers wanted nothing to do with me.

I say the short prayer he taught me, not in reference to the church, but in memory of the only man who ever wanted to be my father, the one who died protecting me. I miss him every day, even though I can't remember his voice or his face. I know that whatever James does to me, my father wouldn't judge me. He'd be proud of me for surviving, whatever that takes.

*_*_*_*Jasper*_*_*_*

I'm not certain that we needed a big "family" hunting trip, tonight of all nights, and I do know that I wouldn't have agreed to it if I'd realized that it would be leaving only the women at home with Alice, but now that we're out here there seems to be no turning back. I've been repeatedly assured that she'll be fine, although they are empty platitudes; I know that they're probably right.

We've been out half the night when we finally get headed back toward the house. We're about halfway back when we hear someone running toward us. My first thought is that we've finally found the nomads, but whoever it is is traveling alone and light.

"It's Esme." Edward offers, but says no more. Whatever reason she has is either hidden to him or he wants her to share it. His face is a mask, carefully neutral, and I think he does know.

When she meets us we all come to a stop and my relief that it is in fact her and she's safe is short lived. She looks at me, guilt and regret written all over her face.

"What happened?" I don't yell, I don't speak, I barely whisper. The only thing any of them know about me is Alice, nothing else would make her look at me like that. She doesn't speak for a moment, just stares at me and I take her appearance in a single sweep. Her dress is dirty and torn, she's been running hard from the house, and she's barefoot. Her hair is tangled and has leaves and twigs stuck in it, but she is unharmed.

"She's gone, Jasper. Someone took her."

It's my turn to be silent. I don't hear everyone else respond, don't look anywhere but into her eyes, hoping to find some sort of mirth or falsehood there. I find neither. I snap out of it only a second later.

"When?" I demand, switching easily into tactical mode.

"Within the last hour. She went out for a walk and I stayed outside, even though she asked us not to go with her. I would've heard her scream, I would've heard a struggle and there wasn't one. I thought she was fine, but I hadn't heard from her in a couple minutes so I went out to check on her and she was gone. We found another vampire's scent and Rosalie is following it, but he was good. It's hard to track."

The others seem to have more questions, but I've heard all I need to. Alice is gone, another of our kind took her, and Rosalie will lead me to the scent. That's all I need. I take a step to go around Esme and she stops me in my tracks, handing me something. I smell it before I see it: blood, Alice's blood. I look down to find a torn piece of Alice's dress in my hand; it appears to be some sort of note. The type is scrawling and the ink is crimson, the bastard wrote me a note on her clothing in her blood.

Jasper

Mary was mine long ago and I won't give her up again easily. I was her first and I'll be her last. Come and get me.

James

Esme is sobbing by the time my eyes meet hers again, but I don't have time to stand here and stare. I take off back toward the house, listening carefully for Rosalie's footsteps. I'm confused about the use of both names, mine and the name Mary. My name makes me think this has something to do with me, that I must know this James, but his message makes it clear that he thinks he knows Alice, not me. I've never heard her refer to herself as Mary or introduce herself that way, but maybe it's a nickname or a former alias? I don't claim to know every name she's gone by in her lifetime, and it's certainly her blood. I entertain the idea for a moment that maybe he's mistaken about her identity, but no vampire can mistake the scent of a human, especially with her unique genetics. Even if he was human before, which I doubt he would remember her at all in that case, he still wouldn't make a mistake like that. If he knew her long enough ago that she had a different name, how does he know that I'm connected to her? Has he been watching us? I suppose she may have told him, but I can't think of a situation where she would have had time to tell him my name but not to struggle or cry out so that Esme could hear her.

I catch up to Rosalie quickly, she isn't moving.

"His scent just disappears. Either he teleported from here or he's damn good at covering his tracks."

The situation is just getting stranger and stranger. If he was one of the nomads he is anything but sneaky, I've been tracking them remotely for days, but we would have noticed any other stray vampires hanging around. If he's this good at covering up his trail, he's likely a tracker, but what reason would a tracker have for the flagrant disregard he's shown up until now?

I double check Rosalie, following her back through the short trail a dozen times. She shows me where they found the note and it's clearly where she was taken, but it's only a quarter of a mile before the trail just stops.

I go back to the small clearing again, sitting down against a tree and breathing in the air, hoping that it'll give me some hint to her whereabouts. There is no blood on any surface other than the note, not even trace amounts on the trees or ground. I can smell it in the air, but not a single drop is spilled here. The tree I'm leaning against has fibers from the dress she was wearing this morning and a sharp edge on the bark caught a few of her hairs. The footprints on the ground don't move enough and aren't deep enough for much of a struggle, which confuses me.

I know that she's easily intimidated, especially by men, but it doesn't seem like she even tried to run, or scream, or resist at all, but I doubt she just offered her blood for the note, so it clearly wasn't entirely consensual.

The word consensual hits me like a ton of bricks and I realize that she never told me the name of the man in her nightmares. She told me he was human, but how certain could she be that he died human? What if he had been changed? She'd never mentioned anyone else from her past, what if it was him? That would explain the lack of struggle, she would have been petrified of him, and it would explain the note... most of it. I have to find her. I clear my mind, what would I do if I was some sick bastard trying to get away with a girl, how would I hide and stay hidden?

It would be foolish to keep her around here; he'd have to know he'd be on uneven ground to keep her in an area I know well, which means that until he gets her where he's going there is probably an opening to intercept him. If I can catch him on the run with her I might have a chance.

I look up to find Rosalie staring at me intently.

"Did you see the note?" I ask her, needing to know if she understands the urgency.

"Yes. Do you have any ideas?"

"I need to head north. If he was one of the nomads he wasn't purposely here for her, he would have come much quieter and alone if he was, meaning his escape route isn't planned. He's more vulnerable now than he will be when he gets wherever he's decided to go. It wouldn't make sense to run south because he'll hit the border and more trouble, also he'll hit the sun before long. He would have taken her laterally or north, and north makes more sense."

I hear him coming, even though my attention is divided. I know that Rosalie can probably take care of herself, but out of instinct I push her behind me. If there are sick rapists wandering around the woods, I'd rather they encounter me before her.

I hear her muttering profanities under her breath behind me and I can tell that most of them are directed toward me as I catch the descriptor 'arrogant' several times. Like I said, I'm not in the mood for taking chances, even with Rosalie.

He slows before he breaks through the woods, coming into sight carefully, well aware that he's under scrutiny already.

"Alaska." He offers, as if by way of greeting.

"Alaska?" I ask, hoping to figure out what he's talking about and get back to trying to find Alice. I'm unwilling to completely disregard him, however, as there's the slightest chance he's here for a reason. I've no idea what this James looks like, and I'm not willing to assume this isn't him. It isn't the same scent from the note or the clearing, but it wouldn't be the first time someone has hired out their dirty work.

"He took her to Alaska before; he mentioned something about taking her back there."

My eyes narrow, I can tell he isn't lying, or if he is, is a remarkably adept liar. He doesn't have a single tell, and I might consider that he's being truthful.

"Your name." It isn't a question and I don't ask, he'll tell me his name or I'll pummel it out of him, I'm not in the mood for patience.

"Laurent. I was traveling with James until a few hours ago."

I'm suspicions, but I can't afford to miss a lead if it's offered, no matter how oddly.

"Why did you part ways?"

"He wanted to take the girl again; we had a difference of opinion. I was there the first time he had her, but it's never really sat right with me, so I told him if he wanted her he was on his own this time. We thought Mary was dead, it's the only reason he let her go before. I don't think he's planning on letting her go this time." Mary, the same name on the note.

"You're nomads, correct? You arrived here yesterday, probably?"

"Yes."

"There was a third with you before."

"Yes, there was. James was unhappy with her this morning. They left together; he came back, she didn't. I have no idea if she even lives, but if she's alive I think she took off. Victoria was always strangely jealous of Mary, even though Mary was clearly not intending to be a rival for James' attention, so I guess he finally gave her up."

"How did he know my name?"

"She told him you'd come for her, I believe. He was a bit incoherent by the time he made it to me, he was so excited that he'd found her. He ran off Victoria quickly and when I told him I didn't want anything to do with it he took off with the girl. He mentioned something about a chase, so I know he expects you to follow. He's counting on it, in fact, but I don't know what other choice you have at the moment but to play by his rules. I think he'll take her to the house in Alaska where he kept her before."

"Address?"

"No address, that implies roads and towns. I can give you the coordinates, but once you're close you'll find it."

"Was she unharmed when you saw her?"

"Yes. She was unconscious, but the only wound I could see was a small cut on her arm he made to write the note."

"What will he do to her?"

Laurent's eyes darken and he looks away. He feels disgust and pity and I think I'm getting my answer before he speaks. There is something else to the emotion, however. He feels shame, probably because the first time he was there and let it happen. If he wasn't here helping us now I could kill him just for that.

"He was less than decent to her before. I don't think you want to hear it, but there isn't anything he wouldn't do to her."

The note is insinuation enough, but I have to know, have to hear it from him.

"Tell me."

"He lost her last time because he thought she was dead from one of his beatings. She was treated as a slave and as the note stated, he was her first, but she was anything but willing."

I glance at Rosalie when she turns away, just in time to see the wetness shining in her eyes. I'd nearly forgotten she was here with me and the rest of the group has almost caught up.

"I need you to tell me where you think he'll take her. They already have a head start and I imagine it will be easier to find her if I can catch them traveling."

"Yes, of course."

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Manda