A/N: Welcome back, everyone! Ready to meet James?

Thanks to my loyal friends and pre-readers, Keye, Sandy, and Aleea, for their awesomeness.

The lovely Sue (chayasara) beta'd this so fast that my pre-readers didn't even have a chance to return it. Mwah!

Chapter 27

~Hunter and Prey~

The petty man is eager to make boasts, yet desires that others should believe in him. He enthusiastically engages in deception, yet wants others to have affection for him. He conducts himself like an animal, yet wants others to think well of him.

~ Xun Zi

I turn to face Demetri, holding the sinister note up for him to see. He curses and backs up a few more feet, his mind a miasma of fear and confusion.

"We have to get Emmett out of there." I stalk toward him and grab him by the arms, giving him a good shake. "Get a hold of yourself. We have shit to do."

"I didn't sign up for this. I'm not going in there, Edward."

"I don't want you to go in. We need to alert Emmett and get his ass out of there, then I can deal with Hunter. This can't be allowed to go on."

Demetri relaxes once he hears I want him on the outside. Coward. Once Emmett is outside, I'll be able to do what I need to without reservation.

We rebury the body after pinning the note back in place. If Hunter has someone check, he'll think we haven't discovered the message yet.

Heavy storm clouds fill the sky now, and the first patters of rain start to fall. By the time we make our way around to the side where the hut is, the rain is pelting off every surface, leaving huge mud puddles on the ground and a virtual mudslide down the side of the mountain. Lightning zaps across the sky, and thunder cracks less than a second later. I hope the storm keeps on because it's given me an idea.

We maneuver into position as close to the perimeter as possible. A lone guard with a dog goes by. I have five minutes before a pair of guards show up.

"Emmett."

Yo! What's up?

"Hunter knows you're not human. Get the fuck out of there now."

Shit! Are you sure? It'll be hard to leave right now—we're in the middle of a poker game.

"I don't give a shit what you're doing. Get out of there. Hunter left me a note—he knows we're out here."

Emmett rises from the table, the other guys looking up from their hands curiously. "I'm outta this one, boys. Need to go take care of some biz, ya know?"

"Your timing sucks, McCarty."

"Good luck, girls!" Emmett swaggers off toward the bathroom.

Five minutes later, he joins us outside the compound.

"Fuck, Eddie. I thought I had them all fooled."

"You did fool your fellow bunkmates, but something must have tipped off Hunter. Once you know what to look for, vampires are easier to spot. I want you and Demetri off this mountain."

"What? No way, bro!" Emmett shakes his head and cracks his knuckles.

Demetri says nothing, but a sigh of relief passes through his cowardly mind.

"Do as I say, Em. I'll be far more effective if I don't have to worry about you two. If it makes you feel better, hang out in a tree and listen."

"We're not leaving you here alone. A tree it is, right, D?"

"Right."

We make our way around to the back of the compound and choose a meeting place. The rain hasn't let up, and although the lightning is now off in the distance, rumbles of thunder still boom every so often—a perfect night for a covert mission.

I move swiftly from treetop to treetop until I'm as close as possible to the twenty-foot-high wall surrounding the compound. Squat concrete buildings with flat roofs are spread throughout, some in clusters, but it's obvious where Hunter can be found—it's the only two-story structure and is set apart from the rest. The extra cameras attached to each corner of the dwelling give it away as well.

Leaping from the highest tree, I land silently on the roof of the austere house. There are no cameras aimed up here, which tells me Hunter doesn't know as much as he thinks he does about vampires. The windows are all alarmed. Hanging over the side of the roof, I notice a square attic vent and yank it out easily. It makes a vague scraping sound, but the pounding rain masks it. Swinging over the side, I enter through the opening, replacing the vent behind me as I go.

The attic is hot and stuffy, but it doesn't contain the usual discarded trappings that most houses do. There are a few beat-up metal desks and sagging cardboard boxes thick with dust and not much else. Water puddles around my feet, and my boots squish against the wood floor as I approach one of the boxes and remove the lid. There are sheaves of paper shoved inside haphazardly. I flick the water off my hands, shaking them rapidly until they dry, then crouch down and flip through the papers.

They date back several years. There are test results for James Hunter—extensive genetic testing, scans, and transfusion records. All of them have the same odd logo at the top. I keep rifling through the papers and come across a leather-bound journal with pages and pages of experiment results. The tight, cramped handwriting fills each page, sometimes growing almost unreadable as the experiments progress with no positive findings. The journal never mentions vampires directly, but it's obvious to me what the author is referring to. Disgusted, I toss the journal aside and continue picking through the box. I come upon more lab work, this time with Isabella's maiden name at the top, and it's from Forks General. There's an exclamation point next to the genetic markers Isabella has in common with Hunter. I clench my fist with a low growl.

The paperwork in this box ends before Hannah was born. Other than discovering Isabella's anomaly, it seems Hunter hit brick wall after brick wall with his experiments. Closing up the box, I decide to move on.

I descend the stairs, opening and closing the door at the bottom so swiftly that the creak only lasts a fraction of a second—far too quickly for human ears to hear. The sound of someone moving about downstairs draws my attention. I cock my head, listening carefully. One heartbeat. Then again, Hunter is expecting me.

The first floor is sumptuously decorated, what one would expect for a senator. As I reach the basement level, things change. I locate him easily and lean in the doorway of his basement office. Everything is sterile here. White floor and walls, gray metal desks and countertops, and no extra luxuries or adornments. Despite the fact he's tried to clean up well, I can see traces of blood in hairline crevices around the room.

He appears relaxed, sitting behind his desk going through a folder of papers. His sandy brown hair is perfectly groomed, just the right length for a senator. His nails are perfectly manicured, and his navy polo shirt is unwrinkled.

I know the moment Hunter senses that he's not alone. His heart does a double beat and then slows as he glances up at me. He has a good face for a politician—handsome enough but no movie star, benign looking, a nice smile. He's good at regulating his heart rate, but the tremble of his fingers as he steeples them is telling. Biofeedback training maybe.

"Edward Masen, I presume." He has the smooth-as-honey voice of a politician, too. Shakes your hand while stabbing you in the back but still leaves you in a daze. Idly I wonder what his qualities would translate into if he were a vampire and shudder inwardly.

"That's correct." I school my features into a bland expression even though he surprised me. How does he know who I am?

"You did a shit job finding my beloved wife." His blue eyes turn steely and his hands steady—it's obvious he's in his element when looking down his nose at someone else.

"My condolences, Senator. For both of your losses."

Hunter stares back impassively then waves me closer, indicating the chair in front of his desk. "Come in, Edward. Have a seat."

"I think I'll stand."

Not only does he know my name, he knows what I am and what my gift is. A medley of heavy metal music with complex guitar riffs plays constantly in his mind. A discomfiting feeling descends over me, and I sense a trap has been set. But by whom?

"As you wish. So, what can I do for you, Edward?"

"You requested my presence."

"Do you have something to do with my infiltrator then?"

"In a manner of speaking. He's left your employ, by the way."

"Ah." Hunter leans back in his chair and nods. Another set of loud, screaming guitar riffs starts up. "That works for me. He was afraid of the guard dogs. Anyway, it's you I'm interested in seeing."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Well, you were hired to bring my errant wife back for trial. I paid you good money for that." He smirks at me.

"We both know that's not why I'm here." My friendly façade slips, and I'm tempted to snap his neck and get it over with.

"Fine. My wife took something of mine, and I was hoping you might know where it is."

"What's that?"

"Some bags of blood."

"Sorry, no. There were only ashes left."

He flinches but quickly recovers his composure. "Did you find out anything else about her activities? Maybe somewhere she might have . . . stashed the samples?"

"Afraid not."

Hunter nods his head. "Perhaps we should cut to the chase?"

"Now you're talking."

"You're a vampire."

"Yes."

"I'd like to be one."

"Yes."

"Perhaps we can make a deal."

"I rather doubt that." I smirk at him. "You are the man who can't be turned, and it burns your ass, doesn't it? You'll grow old and feeble and die like the rest of the human race."

A flare of anger sizzles in his icy blue eyes, and fault lines form over his façade of composure. For a moment I see him meeting with someone in the dank shadows of a nearly empty bar. He swirls a glass of whiskey over ice around slowly before taking a deep gulp. He doesn't look at his companion but stares down at his hands. "You have a deal," he mumbles, the thought immediately on its heels, I've finally sold my soul.

"Well, Edward, I've been working on that, and I may have a solution."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I've got some people working on a cure, and it seems they're very close." Metallica starts up in his mind, a choking vine around the memory of the bar. For some reason, that night was important, pivotal.

"Who was your friend at the bar, Hunter?" I leave my post at the doorway and swagger across the room, towering over him behind his metal desk, merely a scrap of tinfoil to me.

"You caught that, huh?" He smiles in a predatory way, and I'm not sure if it's just bravado or something more.

As I draw closer, I can see the file on his desk is labeled "Cullen Coven," and I freeze for a tenth of a second. There's a stack of photos spread haphazardly on the top, and although I can only see Carlisle and Alice, I'm betting every one of my family members will be accounted for. Anger surges through me, and I reach over the desk and haul him to his feet by the front of his polo shirt. When our faces are a mere inch apart, I bare my teeth and snarl at him. "You know, I could snap your neck right now, Hunter. It would be as easy for me as twisting the top off a beer would be for you."

For the first time, his eyes dilate with fear. He tries to backpedal, but I lift him in the air until his feet dangle a foot above the floor. His heart gallops in his chest, biofeedback forgotten as he faces his own mortality.

"Don't be so hasty or you'll never find out what I know!" Hunter's words come out in a rush.

"I doubt you know anything of importance, you pathetic weasel."

"Sure I do. I know your family's got Isabella stashed away!" When I hesitate, he continues. "Do you have the little girl, too?" Maybe it doesn't matter if the samples of blood are lost if I can get the kid back.

Unable to control myself, I toss the scum against the wall. There's a splintering sound as his collarbone cracks, and he screams out in pain, sliding to the floor.

"That little girl is your daughter! She's a beautiful and precious child. How can you think of her as a lab rat?" I snarl at Hunter as he crawls over to the desk and pulls himself upright. He deserves to die for what he's done to my girls.

"Sounds . . . like she . . . means something . . . to you." He grits his teeth, attempting to hide how much pain he's in.

"And it sounds like she means nothing more than a meal ticket to you. You disgust me."

"That makes this that much easier." Hunter points what looks like a small flare gun at me and pulls the trigger.

The barrel has an attachment that atomizes the contents into a forceful fine mist. It's so fine, in fact, that I barely register the reddish droplets before they enter my mouth and nose. I stop breathing, but it's too late.

Fire erupts under my skin, and my limbs go weak. I know better than to take another breath.

Hunter shoots me in the face again, an evil glint in his eyes. "Thought you could best me, huh, Edward? The great and powerful Edward Masen. Mind reader, seductive vampire, black sheep. The bounty hunter with a conscience." He jams his hand in the center of my chest, and I allow myself to fall.

If I open my mouth to scream, more of his poison will enter my system. Too late, I remember the ampules of blood in my pocket. If I can only get to them . . . but my hands are already shaking like a Parkinson's patient. I remember the drill all too well.

I writhe on the floor, moaning, feigning a higher level of agony than I actually feel. Hunter watches me carefully with his beady eyes, and it's not such an act to arch my back and roll around with pain.

"You vampires are all alike. You believe you're immortal, invincible. Well, guess what? You're not."

Agony blooms inside me, and all I can see is Isabella's beautiful face. The last time I was in pain like this, she hovered over me with concern, nursing me back to health with Hannah's blood and her mere presence. My fingers twitch uncontrollably, and I know there's no chance of getting that blood out of my pocket. I can't chance it, either. If Hunter sees it, he might put it all together. He knows about my family, that we have Isabella. What he doesn't seem to know is that she's my mate; he thinks I'm just helping to hide her away. I need to keep it that way so he doesn't find a way to use me against Isabella.

After pulling the trigger and letting out another lethal cloud of blood droplets into the air, Hunter sits down at his desk again, smoothing his ruffled hair down, and tugging his clothes back into place. He winces when his right shoulder moves the wrong way and bone grinds on bone.

"Stupid fucking vampire! You'll pay for breaking my shoulder." He digs through the folder on his desk, pulling out a sheet of paper. "And that bitch, too! When I get my hands on her, I'll wring the blood out of her body!"

Rage singes through me red-hot, and I rise to my knees with a snarl. I'm too weak and flop over onto my stomach with my cheek mashed into the floor. Hunter gazes at me, appraising, amusement in his cruel eyes.

"Bravo!" He claps his hands, mocking. "Is that how you get all those women in your bed? By pretending chivalry isn't dead? Guess we're more alike than I imagined. After all, that's how I got up Isabella's skirt."

"Nothing . . . like you." I waste precious energy speaking because I so desperately want a piece of that fucker. I should rip his tongue out for talking about Isabella that way or for comparing me to him.

"You're right on that." His eyes glint with madness as he preens. "I'm a winner. Soon, I'll have immortality and the ability to exterminate the vermin. See, there's power in having the remedy of the disease and the disease of the remedy. Once I have all the pieces, that pathetic tyrant will bow down to me!" Spittle flew from his disgusting mouth, and then his mind opened wide with pride.

Thoughts flew by, and I was barely able to capture them in my weakened state.

Aro.

Aro gave James Hunter the file on my family. He told Hunter that Carlisle wouldn't be able to resist finding a cure for Isabella, that if he hired me as the bounty hunter my sense of ethics would lead her to the Cullens—right where he wanted her.

They were letting Carlisle do all the work. Aro said he was tenacious and had a brilliant mind. If anyone could find a cure, it would be his old friend. And once it was done, Aro would grant James immortality and a place within the Volturi, compensating him handsomely for his loyalty. The weapon and the cure would be in Aro's possession and the immortal would be as vulnerable as humans, easily dispensed with from a distance.

"You're sick. Do you really think Aro will give you anything once he has his hands on this?"

Hunter cocks his head and smirks. "No, of course not. Never try to bullshit a bullshitter, right? The thing is, Aro is a doddering old fool with an archaic mind. He fancies himself to be the top of the food chain, but there's a new game in town. By the time he realizes what's happening, he'll be dust." He holds up his contraption. "What do you think, Edward? I designed this myself. Just imagine if I spread droplets through a ventilation system . . . say somewhere in Italy. It could bring down the house, eh?"

He rolls me over and sits on my chest, pointing the barrel at my face. "It's a shame you won't be there to see it."

I 'm weak as a kitten, but there's no comfort this time. No Isabella to feed me life-sustaining blood, to curl up next to me, to press her lips to mine. True fear shudders through me—fear for my Isabella and little Hannah. The thought of my girls being Volturi lab rats draws an aggrieved moan out of me, and I pray my family will figure out what's happening in time, that Alice will see.

My eyes burn, and my head feels like a rock tumbler. Dry desert heat bakes me from the inside out, and I'm at the mercy of a madman.

Hunter rams his knee into my chest, and I cry out as my sternum cracks, sending shards of white-hot pain ripping through me.

And then with a maniacal laugh, he pulls the trigger.

~*RK*~

A/N: *Ducks flying objects* Well, I have been taking suggestions for Emmett's Party Pack. Draw your own conclusions about whether Edward will survive or not. :-) Several of you have asked if we will get Isbella's POV during their separation, and the answer is probably not. This is Edward's story. I have not ruled out the possibility of an outtake, though.

Next chapter in two weeks. Thanks to everyone who reviews, recs, and lurks this story. Mwah!

I've been given the honor of receiving an ARC of the lovely Sydney Logan's (SydneyAlice) new book Lessons Learned. I'll also be hosting a day of her blog tour on September 8th. Mark your calendars and show up on my blog to read an interview with her character, the schmexy Lucas Miller. Leave a comment on the blog during the giveaway and be eligible to win your very own copy of Lessons Learned!

I'm also reading Ghostwriter by the talented Lissa Bryan. Stay tuned for news of the blog tour and e-book giveaway, coming in October.

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