I'm glad you all liked the Esme outtake :) She's so sweet, isn't she? Now, meanwhile, at the other end of the spectrum...

Maria POV

"Get the last one," I ordered. "And hurry up. This reek is making me sick."

Paul nodded and disappeared. We had spent most of the night killing, and it would probably take a week to get the smell out of my hair. Back when I used to delegate this particular unpleasantness, I thought that the smoke had a sweet, breezy smell; but up close like this, the purple fog was oppressive. The bonfire was belching it out heavily now, with the addition of Carmena's pieces a moment ago. I moved back a few feet, my muscles twitching in warning as the fire grew bigger.

It had been one of the worst years yet. I hadn't even gotten the chance to try out my latest bunch of newborns in battle; they were just too wild, too uncontrollable. I had finally stooped to executing one of them in front of the others last week, and even that hadn't calmed them down. I had flattered and threatened and promised and punished, but they were hopeless. It was time to wipe the slate clean, and start over. Again.

Sometimes, on nights like this, I was sick of it.

I wouldn't lose sight of my priorities, though. This was the only purpose I had left: vengeance. I had only had twenty-eight years with my mate… twenty-eight years too long, as far as our enemies had been concerned. Our coven had been a relatively peaceful one, and all our parents wanted to do was keep the territory that they had held for more than three centuries. We never tried to expand, and we never fought unless challenged.

Why couldn't they have just left us in peace?

I supposed I understood… now. My creator's creator had killed the mate of the leader of the Arizona coven, back in 1645. That was all the reason they needed. It didn't matter that none of us had actually been alive at the time; we were in the way, and our venomline was enough to doom us. I think they actually let me escape on purpose; they were sadistic like that.

Their mistake.

I was still scrambling to get Monterrey back for a third time. It was a strategic location, if I ever wanted to reach my goal. But it was more than that- all I wanted was my home, and all I needed was to walk right up to that piece of Arizona filth, my army at my back, and dismember him as slowly as possible. I would give each of my soldiers a piece of him to hold, and we would have a good time, letting him suffer in twenty places at once. Maybe for two days, if I could get my men to stop feeding for that long. Then we would have a party, complete with bonfire, and the state of Arizona would bleed itself dry for us… every party needed refreshments, after all. Then I would be at peace. Then I could rest. But until that day came, I would fight. I would fight, lie, cheat, kill, and drink my way through the centuries, until I got satisfaction. I needed satisfaction, and I needed power to get it.

The trouble was, I was no closer to my goal than I had been thirty years ago. In fact, I was further from it. After Jasper deserted, I was only able to hold onto Monterrey for another three months. I had always known that he was valuable, but I didn't realize how valuable until I didn't have him anymore. Without his gift to keep the newborns semi-pacified, I had to execute a good half of the ranks, just to keep things manageable. And I had to do it myself. The smoke had been seen by a scout from the Guatemala coven, and that was that. I had been lucky to escape alone. The old vendetta had been reborn that night: get Monterrey back. Get anything back. I couldn't even contemplate taking on Arizona until I had the bloodfields of Texas and Northern Mexico under my command. I had been careful to stick to the western coast of Mexico since then, quietly building a new army each year, experimenting with the size. Apparently, I wasn't much good at keeping more than ten around at a time. And to keep that many required one or two veterans from the previous year, to help me get the blood and keep things under control. This year had been particularly bad; the only fighting they had seen was among themselves. Another twelve months, wasted.

I was far enough away from the fire that I could smell Paul coming. He was reciting his lines, luring the last of the newborns closer to the fire, closer to me.

"And believe me, your strength has become legendary," he said soothingly in Carlos' ear. "Maria herself told me that you're the only one who she trusts for this mission."

"Where are the others?" Carlos asked, eyeing the fire worriedly. I usually kept my newborns unaware of the danger of fire, to make cleanup day easier. But the public execution last week had been a mistake. Carlos, and the others before him, knew what fire meant to our kind. He was almost twice my size, and always shirtless; we could never find humans big enough to clothe him properly. When I had changed him, I had thought this was it; this was going to be the year. But as it turned out, Carlos was only good at one thing; picking fights with his fellow soldiers. What a waste of good blood.

Paul laughed, slapping Carlos on the back like a true friend. "She sent them on a different mission," he said, leaning in conspiratorially. "She wanted the humans buried farther away this time. You, my friend, are the only one not on digger duty tonight."

Carlos smiled shakily as Paul steered him closer towards me. I stepped out of the shadows, and Carlos tensed.

"Carlos," I purred. "I've got a job for you. And if you do well, you'll be swimming in blood."

That was all it took. Carlos stood at attention, or a weak approximation of such. This was another thing I missed about the glory days with Jasper: the respect. He had had all sorts of tricks to keep our soldiers in line, but his gift notwithstanding, his example had actually been his greatest asset. He had carried himself so well, in those first few years. Our newborns had been… well, newborns, but at least he had gotten them to have at least an inkling of pride in themselves. Jasper's speeches had been the stuff of legend, even after he stopped believing his own words. He himself had never had the stomach for the realities of war, but at least he never let it show in front of the newborns. He just kept inspiring them, long after his own inspiration had died. If anything, he worked harder at it. He wanted to make their worthless lives worth something, knowing how short they would be. He seemed to think that if he worked hard enough with them, that I would spare them, let them "die honorably in battle", as he liked to put it. Sentimental fool. At least he never shirked his duty, or let the others see his weakness- he was lethal, and he made the others lethal. He made them believe in themselves- something I had once ridiculed him for. Now I saw how right he had been.

As the years went on, Jasper had suffered more and more, as his gift grew stronger. He was always complaining about feeling the humans' fear and horror, and feeling the newborn's sense of betrayal at cleanup time, and blah, blah, blah. I reminded him, over and over, that we all had a price to pay for victory. And when he stopped complaining, I was satisfied. I had thought he was finally ready to face reality again.

But then that idiot Peter had deserted, and Jasper just let him go. He had known that Peter wasn't disposable; he wasn't valuable in the sense that Jasper was, but he was indispensible. Jasper knew that. And he had just stood there, and watched his "friend" run off with his useless mini-mate. Jasper had waited several hours before coming back to the rest of us, and reporting the desertion with a trace of smugness; he had purposely given Peter time to get out of reach. Of course, he had paid the price for his treason- a far gentler one than he deserved. If it had been anyone else, I would have let the others tear him to shreds. But as morose as he had become, Jasper was still my greatest asset. I settled for merely scarring him; a slap on the wrist. It wasn't like he wasn't already covered in scars, anyway. Life went on, and he got back to work. He knew he had gotten off easy.

But that's the trouble with leaving traitors alive; you can't trust them. He got even more pathetic after that. His moods darkened further, which of course darkened my own. It wasn't my fault he couldn't keep his gift to himself. He would go weeks at a time without speaking to anyone, except in training. He spent far too much time alone, staring off at nothing. I knew that it was only a matter of time before he would turn the others against me. He had already betrayed me once, and as much as I wanted to deny it, he was probably going to do it again. It was exactly what I would have done, if it were me. I knew I had to act. The trouble was, I couldn't kill him alone, and it was difficult to set anything up with the others without him feeling us out.

He saved me the trouble, in the end. One night he was there, and when the sun rose, he was gone. No farewell, no mutiny, nothing. Just gone. I had lived in absolute terror for the year that followed, certain that he had defected to the one of the neighboring covens, that he would lead an attack against me. As the months passed, and no attack came, I relaxed and got back down to business. But this is how things were turning out, without Jasper at my side. This is what he had left me with. A yearly gaggle of worthless newborns, no territory, and having to do my own dirty work.

Traitor.

"And what's more," I said, stepping closer to Carlos, "this mission comes with a special reward: feeding alone."

A happy growl rumbled in Carlos' throat, and he nodded eagerly, standing taller. Feeding alone was one of the best positive motivators I used: the rare chance to feed at your own pace, without having to defend your kill. To do whatever you liked with the humans you were given, and no questions asked. Carlos had been given this particular reward only twice; he was one of the stupider ones.

Paul silently assumed his position behind Carlos, who had all but forgotten his comrade, and the fire off to our left. Paul's job tonight had been to hold, while I beheaded. The signal was when I said "the mission is". He gave me the nod, telling me he was ready.

"Carlos," I whispered, leaning closer. "The…"

I paused, frowning as I stared at Carlos' enormous biceps. We shouldn't have saved him for last- we should have kept another of the Novembers around a little longer, so that I wouldn't have to help. It was a matter of personal pride that I had no visible scars, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Paul blinked, his hands frozen halfway to Carlos' shoulders. Well? he mouthed to me.

Oh, what was the use? It wasn't worth risking my complexion to get rid of this one. And Carlos was strong, even with his deterioration. Maybe he should be left to "die honorably in battle", as Jasper would have put it. I could keep him and Paul around as I started up the next batch. In fact, that might be better; if I felt, later on, that Carlos was manageable enough, I would get him to end Paul for me. That way, once I started up again, I wouldn't have a lieutenant who knew too much, like Paul did now.

"Forget it," I snapped, walking back toward the fire. Paul snatched his hands back down to his sides as Carlos turned around, looking confused and thirsty.

"I want the blood," he growled. "Now what's the mission?"

"Quiet. There may have to be a change of plans. Let me think for a minute." I started pacing, and Paul quietly ordered Carlos back to the camp. He waited a few moments before spinning to face me.

"Why are you keeping him?" he demanded. "I thought we were going to start over."

"I said quiet!" I hissed, feinting toward him. He jumped back and returned to the camp himself, muttering as he went. Fantastic. Now I had a thirsty three-hundred pound brute who was waiting for a reward that I couldn't deliver on, and a lieutenant who had just seen me have a moment of weakness, of uncertainty. Not a good combination. They would both need to be ended now, and I wasn't in a position to end either of them. I stormed back toward the camp after them; I couldn't give them the chance to be alone together. Paul would tell Carlos the truth, and then I would be the one in the fire. I had to think of something, and fast.

This was absurd. I wouldn't have these problems, if Jasper were here. I wouldn't, not for a second, let liabilities like this exist. And even if I did, Jasper would catch them the moment they started to plot. What I wouldn't give to go back to those days, back in our glory in Monterrey. That was back when Jasper didn't question everything I did, back when he was only too happy to drown himself in the spoils of victory. That was before his gift had grown strong enough to torment him, before the Peter fiasco. Before he had become a brooding, mutinous burden. Before he had become a liability, himself.

At least, that was what I had thought at the time. He had been gone almost ten years now, and I hadn't heard anything about one of the covens suddenly growing in power. It seemed that he hadn't defected at all; he had simply deserted. He had just run away, like Peter. And it was actually in keeping with the weariness that had been growing on him for the second half of his tenure. He was probably out there alone somewhere, nomadic and free. Which meant that he knew the truth now, that our Southern Wars were really just that: southern.

He had heard the term once during battle, back when he was new; thankfully, he had slaughtered his opponent before asking any more questions. Innocent, stupid boy that he was, he came back and asked me what it meant. Keeping myself as calm as possible, I told him that every region of the worldwide conflict had its own name: the Southern Wars, the Chinese Wars, the Himalayan Wars. I had come up with that particular lie on the spot, and it was so ludicrously funny that my emotions gave nothing away. Jasper bought it hook, line and sinker. I was just glad that he had never bothered to ask again, because I probably wouldn't have been able to pull it off a second time, not with the way his gift had grown after his newborn year.

It didn't matter now; he had long since found out the truth. And the fact that he hadn't come back to kill me –either alone or with his own army- meant that he had either gotten himself killed, which was very unlikely, or that he had just decided to wash his hands of the whole business, and live in peace.

Peace! As if he had any business surviving apart from me! I was his creator, and he owed me his life three times over now! I had spared him from the slow decay of mortality. I had spared him from the 1863 crop. And I had spared him a third time after the Peter thing, when I had every right to end his miserable, treacherous life. I had spared him all these times, because he had been valuable. I had never had a better right hand, a better fighter, a better lieutenant. And now, ten years later, I could see, beyond the shadow of a doubt, how truly valuable he had been. I truly couldn't do this on my own. I was never going to get anywhere without him.

I needed him.

The plan formed itself quickly, as I took the last steps back toward camp. I had never been a patient woman before, but there was a first time for everything. I would find him, if it took the rest of the twentieth century. I was free, for the moment; no territory to speak of, and I would be travelling light, with just Paul and Carlos along for the ride. I would tell him that everything had been a misunderstanding, that we had just needed some time apart to cool off. I would remind him of the glory days of Monterrey, and how richly he had fed back then. I would promise him anything he wanted: blood upon blood, his own territory, more direct control over his men, the right to hunt for himself, anything. I would even promise him my body, if it came to it- not that he had ever fallen for that one before. He was an empath. But I would do whatever it took to get him back home, where he belonged.

There was the small matter of him not wanting to come back, but that was where Carlos and Paul would come in. If he was alone, and refused to come along, we would dismember him and take him back home. I would leave him in pieces until he begged to be allowed back into my service. And if he had found a mate, so much the better. I would bide my time, and have Paul and Carlos kill her, and have them make it look like the Arizona coven had done it. It would be tricky, and I would have to avoid him asking me directly whether I was involved, but it could be done. Then he would have some real motivation to keep fighting. Then, he would finally understand.

Paul and Carlos drew apart quickly as I approached, with Paul looking guilty and Carlos looking afraid. Damage control first, then. This would be a gamble, but the odds were in my favor. Paul had only told Carlos the truth a moment ago, and it seemed like I had interrupted before Carlos had the chance to take it all in. He would, in his uncertainty, be unsure whether to move against me, or defend me. I snapped my gaze back over to Paul, who swallowed: guilty as charged. And the fact that he wasn't attacking immediately meant that he didn't know if he could count on Carlos yet. My odds had just gone up.

This was going to be too easy.

"You've told Carlos about how we killed the others, then?" I said, looking pleased. Paul opened and shut his mouth, completely thrown off guard. "Good. Then I hope you realize, Carlos, that I decided to keep you alive not out of charity, but out of necessity. There is a mission, but it's far greater than anything Paul knows about. And it will take some time. But when we're through, feeding alone is going to be the least of your rewards."

"Fine words," Paul said carefully. He edged toward my left slowly, and Carlos sucked in his breath, looking as uncertain as I had hoped.

"I wasn't speaking to you, Paul," I said seductively. "I was speaking to Carlos. This mission doesn't require three. Especially when one of those three is someone I'm not sure I can trust."

Now Carlos was really confused, and Paul was horrified. He was only two years old, himself, and as far as he knew, this was the first time I had ever formed an army. He believed that I had handpicked him from the start, that I had never loved before him, that we would rule together.

Idiot. Now that I was going to have Jasper back, he would be the first to burn.

"Of course," I continued, turning my back to them, "I would like it to be three. It would make success that much more likely. But I can't be looking over my shoulder every second, Paul." I spun around and attacked, pinning him to the ground by his throat. As I had known he would, Carlos darted around me, gripping Paul's head and waiting for my command. I sat up on top of him, pinning his hands down.

"I would never betray you," Paul gasped, his eyes wild. "I was just… you didn't stick to the plan. I was afraid."

"And you should be," I hissed. Carlos gripped Paul's head harder, and he shrieked, struggling uselessly. "This world is full of dangers, gentlemen. I am far older than either of you know, and I have spared you both from the horrors of War, until now. But times are changing, and it is time for us to act. We are going to build the greatest army this land has ever seen. We will retake Mexico, and beyond. We will thrive, and our banquet will stretch from ocean to ocean. But in order to do that, we need to go on a little trip first. I wonder how many of us there will be?"

"Three!" Paul shouted. "Maria, please!"

I pretended to consider for a moment, letting him beg a bit more. Then I sighed delicately as I stood back up. "It looks like we'll have some company, Carlos." Carlos released Paul, who jumped to attention. Now that was more like it.

"What kind of a trip?" Carlos asked.

"We need to find a man called Jasper," I explained. "I created him, back in 1863. He is the greatest fighter that the Wars has ever seen. He is also an empath, and his gift enables him to control the emotional instabilities in newborns, and to strike fear in his opponents during battle." I would need to slowly work up to the truth if I was going to bring them North… and if I was going to get them anywhere near Jasper's gift.

"Where is this Jasper?" Carlos asked distastefully.

"He is retired from combat," I said grandly. "But as his creator, I have decided that his retirement is over."

Both men grinned, both at my obvious lack of romantic interest in Jasper, and in the new level of trust they thought I was putting in them. "And where will we find him?" Paul asked.

"As far from here as possible, I imagine. We will start at the top, and work our way down. Gentlemen, we're going to Canada."

*ominous music*

So... yes, the Calgary incident will be in the 1950 story :) Thank you to ColdOnePaul for this awesome idea! Also, thanks to Chicory for her story, Fear of Fire, which is also about the Calgary incident, and very well done (at least the parts I've read so far). Her writing is a bit darker than mine, but we are agreed on one thing: I highly doubt that Maria just "happened" to be in Canada.