A/N for 2018/12/23: Folks, your reactions are so delightful to read. Thank you.

Shout out to the guest reviewer who left some thoughtful (and kindly worded) critique on plot plausibility. Ideally, there would be some separation between a deceased colleague's child, and a police officer, but in a small town, there is not so much choice available. As for Sally and the other girls not standing up to Jessica, sometimes younger people have a hard time confronting bad behaviour in their peers (I know I did) - and it is easier to let it go, than risk the peace. I imagined that everyone would want to just let a drunken Jessica blow off some steam, rather than risk an ugly confrontation. Now, Jessica calling the cops: young, drunk people aren't exactly the best decision makers, especially when they think they can hide their drunkenness well (like the students who arrived to my class, drunk as skunks, CONVINCED I would not notice. Guess what? I noticed!).

Everyone: about Mark - I let you all come to some very unkind conclusions (deliberately) in the previous chapter. You'll see why in this one.

To the guest reviewer who doesn't "even have the words to describe how gratuitous the drama is" in my stories, um, well . . . if my plot lines aren't to your taste, I wish you well in finding ones that are.

Meanwhile, on with the gratuitous drama! (and there's lots in this chapter)

Cheers,

~ Erin

An Offering

She felt drugged when she came to.

Very likely, she realized, because she had been.

"Ooh," she moaned, trying to move hand to her neck. A cold, and very strong hand prevented her from making contact.

"No."

The voice was unfamiliar, and this, combined with the iciness at her wrist made her stop, and become completely still.

"Do not touch."

Her eyes dared to move to the left, towards the voice's source.

A tall, pale man dressed in shabby black clothes, stared back at her. His eyes were a startling yellow. Not quite the same shade as Edward's, but she knew them for what they were.

The thought, that at least they weren't red, wobbled across her mind.

Her thinking was sluggish. She wondered if the Cullens sent him, but then dismissed it. No, Carlisle or Esme would have come themselves. Wouldn't they? Or, had something happened? She knew only something dire would take them away so urgently. Maybe someone had gotten hurt? Her breath caught on that thought. What if it was Edward?

Would they send one of their cousins to look after her?

"Eleazar?" she asked, tentatively.

He cocked his head, like he didn't understand.

"Did the Cullens send you?" she tried again.

His head tilted further, and he shook it.

"I do not understand."

His accent was strange. The intonation was all wrong. Flat. Like a morbid gregorian chant.

No, they hadn't sent him.

There was a clenching in her gut, which felt like it was sliding towards her feet.

"Why am I here?"

His face relaxed.

"To be prepared."

"For what?"

"For offering."

This was more than alarming. "Offering for what?" she asked.

"Offering."

It would've been comical, if she hadn't known precisely how lethal a creature he was.

Being polite, and patient, seemed wise in the face of this. "I don't understand," she tried.

He frowned a bit, blinking once. It reminded Bella of a snake, slow and placid. Unnecessary.

"You are to be readied, to be offered. Only to those who are worthy."

Offered to someone.

All her internal alarm bells sounded.

His face transformed. "No," he said quietly. "You must be calm. Such distress is not good." He reached out a hand to her shoulder, and she jerked back on her elbows. "I will not harm you," he murmured, and then put his hands behind her neck.

She began to kick at his midsection, then scrabbled uselessly with her hands, envisioning past horrors made present. But he only brought the tips of his fingers to the back of her neck, pressing lightly, speaking softly.

She couldn't move away, and when she realized his intentions weren't immediately harmful, closed her eyes, and hoped whatever it was he was planning on doing was quick, and painless.

"You must take the air in," he went on. "Be at ease." Then his fingers moved to press at the sides of her wrists, and then her temples. "No one will harm you. I will ensure you are safe and well."

Her breathing slowed marginally, then she realized what he'd said.

"So you can offer me to someone?"

"Yes." He held out a hand, so she could sit up.

She ignored it, getting up awkwardly by herself.

The room took a lazy turn around her head, and she sank back on her elbows.

"Did you give me something?"

"Do you require sustenance?" he asked, voice curious.

"No, did you give me something? Drugs, medication?"

He looked blankly at her.

"Medicine?"

He shook his head. "The humours, they are not so well balanced, when your kind has been subdued." He gestured to the crux of her shoulder, and neck.

What the hell?

He talked like he was from another time.

He probably was from another time, her brain reminded her.

Not that it matters, she thought. She needed to find a way to get out of here.

Scanning the room, now that her vision was staying in one place, she took in the shabby space. It reminded her of the hunting cabin Charlie and Harry used to rent in the summer. The main door was visibly distressed, like it had been kicked in. The walls were grimy, and the sparse furniture equally so.

No one had been here in a long time. And no one would be coming here to check on things anytime soon.

There was no electric hum either, and whisking her eyes by the kitchen space, she only saw an ancient looking fridge—or ice box, and an old wood stove.

There was enough daylight to see by, which meant she'd been gone for at least twelve hours. Mark must have told Carlisle and Esme she was gone, that she'd run. They'd be looking, wouldn't they?

Wouldn't they?

It was very, very easy to doubt this.

Was this there way of making her disappear? Of solving their problem with the pair that had seen her. Saving them from the possibility of the Volturi?

She shook her head. She couldn't think so negatively. Hope was important now. They would be looking, she told herself firmly.

Edward would be looking.

"Remain here," the man instructed her. "You require nourishment."

What she required was a trip to the toilet. As soon as he left through the front door, she stood up, stumbling a little on her feet. The bathroom, as it presented itself, was rudimentary but serviceable, and featured water from what she presumed was a rooftop cistern. She rinsed her hands, and shook them dry, wiping the excess off on her jeans.

When she stepped outside the small room, the smell of woodsmoke drifted inwards, and the man stood beside her again. She jumped at his sudden presence.

"Here," he said, seeming to ignore her fright. He held out a cup of something steaming.

"What is it?" Bella asked, suspicious.

"Drink it."

"No."

"You are thirsty," he said simply. Then he looked sharply towards the bathroom. "Do not drink that water," he said sternly. "It is not good."

"I didn't."

"I know."

She flicked her gaze up at his face, making herself take in his appearance. His hair was a very light blonde, almost white. Paired with his skin, it gave him an otherworldly appearance. The stark black of his clothes did nothing to diminish the effect.

"What are you?" she whispered.

He held the cup out towards her. "Please drink."

"No."

"You will prefer I do not compel you."

She could imagine that all too well, and took the cup, sniffing at it. There were herby notes to it, but nothing alarming.

She took a tentative sip. It was sweet. A faint note of beeswax told her the honey used had been raw.

"Good," he said, nodding. "Finish that, and I will bring some food. Then I shall bathe you."

The cup stopped, a hand's breadth from her mouth. Not saying anything, Bella redoubled her effort to find a way out of this situation.

"I can bathe myself."

"I will assist you."

She held onto her no. She wanted it to mean something when she used it.

His disappearance was silent, and when she looked up again from the drink he'd left her, she was alone again.

The lone chair by the table seemed stable enough, but she took care to sit down. She wasn't going anywhere, not with a vampire keeping her. It was better not to try to run. Edward had taught her that much.

"Never run from us. Ever." He'd said this most seriously, when she'd done just that, teasing him.

Her "Why?" had been uncertain. She'd never seen him so angry with her. So worried.

"We're predators, Bella. We may try to subdue or mask our natures, but we can't ever escape them. I don't want to see you hurt by one us . . . slipping."

She'd nodded, the gesture a solemn promise.

Her captor returned again, this time more slowly, carrying chunk of rough cedar. Settled on top of it was a small fish, delicately filleted, still steaming from the fire.

He placed this in front of her, and she looked at him.

She wanted, desperately, not to remember how Charlie would do almost exactly this for her, but the fear had loosened so much of her control, that the tears slipped out before she could discipline her face.

"This distresses you?" he asked. "It is good food. Only meant to nourish you."

For what? She wanted to shriek.

She didn't.

Rather, she took a deepth breath in, and then picked up part of the fish.

It was delicious, and she was very, very hungry.

She wondered if it would be her last meal.

The bite of fish attempted to swim, salmon-like, back up her gullet, but by force of will, she kept it down.

She made herself eat more of it.

When she pushed away from the table, the strange vampire's hand gripped her shoulder. It was a hold that spoke of control, and Bella did not attempt to fight it.

"You will bathe now." When Bella looked towards the bathroom, he spoke again. "No, outside."

"No," she said, as firmly as she could, and then added, "thank you."

"You must," was the terse reply.

"I can clean myself—inside." She looked at the bathroom.

He frowned, and shook his head.

She got up and moved towards it, but his hands rested on her shoulders, propelling her outside. It was a small miracle, that she didn't dissolve into a shrieking mess. She wanted to.

When he stopped pushing, Bella blinked. They were standing near a tidy fire, where a u-shaped, open cubicle made of blankets and branches had been erected.

"Here," he said, pointing to the tin wash-tub that sat in its semi-private space. "I will give you the things you need from beside here."

Where he wouldn't see her unclothed.

"I will not harm you."

Part of her mind, not riled with panic, accepted this.

"But someone has harmed you before," he added softly.

She nodded.

"I will keep you safe. No one will harm you."

She couldn't help it. "No, you're just going to give me to someone to harm."

"You do not understand," he said softly. "Never for harm. Such offering . . . it is an honour."

"I'll forgo it, thanks."

His tone shifted immediately. "Watch your tongue, mortal. You will not speak of what you do not understand." He pointed to the tub.

Faced with the prospect of doing so alone, or with his 'assistance,' Bella complied, undressing and getting into the tub. It was big enough to sit in, and the water was warm.

A white arm passed her soap, or what she took for it. It was yellow, and grainy, but didn't smell of anything. Hand-made. She washed quickly.

She hadn't seen her clothes disappear, but had seen something cloth flung over the screen. It was a long dress. Old. The soft cotton pattern faded. It was clean, though. She slipped it on, emerging to find the strange vampire standing, hands at his sides, like a soldier, waiting.

Now what?

"Would you care to walk?" he asked.

"Where?" And why?

"There is a place, not so far from here. It is pleasing to the eyes."

"Why?"

"So you may enjoy it."

She didn't believe him. "You've abducted me, and told me I'm going to be 'offered' to someone, so I'm having a hard time believing that."

He ignored this, instead holding out his hand, as if he wanted her to take it. The thought of doing so willingly made her shudder. She kept hers pressed around her midsection.

"The ones that had you," he said, frowning. "They have broken faith with what they are." He shook his head. "But I will not. You will see. Come."

Did he mean the Cullens? "What do you mean, the ones that had me?" she asked nervously.

"Those who look like me."

Yes, the Cullens.

"How did they . . . break faith?"

His gaze was piercing. She almost twitched under it.

"They kept you, but not as they should. They had mates." He spat this last word out with disgust. "They were tempted by you. Unfaithful."

"What are you?" she asked again.

"I am a Dacian. As are they."

"They're vampires—"

"NO!"

She stepped back.

He calmed himself immediately. "No," he offered much more quietly. "They are not. I apologize for frightening you. It is my duty to keep you well."

"Why do you need to keep me well?" Bella asked, the stomach-churning suspicion growing.

"Because this is my duty, and I will keep it, so that you may be offered."

"Offered for what?"

"To walk among the Gods, child." He said this, as if it were obvious. "But the hour will grow warm for you soon." He picked up a bag sitting near the rocks. "We will go now."

Because there was no choice, she made herself take a step in the direction he gestured to, moving towards an uncertainty for which she could only feel a distressed apprehension gnawing at her bones.

Find me, Edward. Please.

- 0 -

It felt like a mark of the deepest shame, to have to call on the wolves. Edward, and the rest of the Cullens had tried, repeatedly, amid the growing scents laid by the other human searchers, to find a whiff of Bella's, or of what had taken her.

They'd found nothing.

Alice had stopped, gasping abruptly, in the middle of their other hunt, leaving Edward brimming with anxiety.

"Where?" he'd asked, seeing what she was seeing.

"I don't know," Alice had muttered, her thoughts rippling with images. The forest, somewhere. A small cottage or cabin. It could be anywhere.

"Oh my God," he'd choked out, hands in his hair, pacing, seeing what she had.

Look, Edward, Alice had intoned. Look again.

He had, at the creature's profoundly yellow eyes.

It meant nothing. He knew exactly how tempted he'd been when he met Bella, and that this creature's past choices were as likely to stop him, as the air was to impede Edward's frantic run back to Forks.

When they'd reached the Weber's property, there was already a scrum of people there, searching—pointlessly, he knew—for Bella.

Mark Barclay was directing the search effort, a map and lights out on the Weber's porch. His mind, however, was fractured in its attention. At the corners of his consciousness were blips of images—of Bella running, of Jessica's blood-shot eyes, and of her furious parents.

In Mark's memory, Edward saw that the anxiousness of all present had shifted to anger, when Jessica's parents had arrived.

They hadn't realized Jessica had been drinking, and when that became apparent, along with the bogus assault claim she'd made, their angry attention had turned to their daughter.

When Bella's disappearing form appeared in Mark's memory again, it was tinged with guilt. He'd meant to curry some favour with her, letting her see him chew Jessica out for her idiocy, but it had backfired spectacularly.

Mark rubbed his face, trying to hide his guilty frustration. When Sam and Paul thumped up the porch steps, his features smoothed out, leaving his professional mask in place. "Coming to help search?"

"Yep," Sam said, cooly eyeing Edward's distant form. His thoughts were full of condescension for what he perceived as the Cullen's incompetence.

Edward didn't care. So long as they helped.

"Make sure you've got lights, and stay in pairs." He pointed to the map laid out on the patio table. "Cover here, and here. Report back once you complete the area, and we'll plan on from there." He went on with more instructions, Sam and Paul nodding blandly. Such instruction was redundant.

Alice stayed close by, thoughts a wild frenzy of images. At least, in all of them, Bella was alive. Frightened, but alive.

Sam's thoughts numbered more wolves coming. Trailing, like the last wolfy form to join them, was the thought that Jacob would arrive soon.

Edward kept his grimace internal. The last thing he wanted was some hot-headed idiot messing up finding Bella.

Just like you've messed up in finding her, his mind supplied.

Sam's thoughts revealed Jacob had left—wisely—for some time away. Or rather, was sent by Sam to cool his jets at such a distance that he wouldn't be tempted to cross lines, or stir up trouble.

Edward was so distraught, his face was less carefully guarded in the expressions it wore, and Sam caught this one.

"You want us, or not?" he challenged Edward, now walking in his direction.

"Thank you for coming," Edward said woodenly.

Paul snorted in reply. "Least we didn't lose her."

Edward growled, low enough to be inaudible to the busy humans around them, but loud enough for wolf ears.

"Don't," Sam said to Paul, and then to Edward. "She's one of ours, Cullen. We didn't come for you. We came for her."

It seemed wise to say nothing else, so Edward nodded, and moved back towards the wood, joining his family in their ever widening circle, swirling further and further out, in what felt like the most redundant, and pointless of frantic dances.

- 0 -

"Here," the Dacian said, and handed her a sturdy black book, a pencil tucked into its centre.

Taking it, Bella realized it was a sketchbook.

He'd brought her a sketch book?

"How did you know?"

"I observed you."

He'd been watching her. She shivered.

"For how long?" She pretended to look out at the small glade he'd taken her to.

"I followed the pair that found you. To see if they were worthy."

"And . . . were they?"

"No." His gaze remained distant, sweeping back and forth over the space at regular intervals.

"Why not?"

Now he looked at her. "Would you behold the face of God, mortal?"

She decided she wouldn't, and tried to sketch the plant in front of her. After a moment, she asked, "So, you don't have anyone to . . . offer me to."

"No."

"You could simply return me."

He hissed at this suggestion. "Blasphemy!"

Bella moved the pencil across the page mindlessly, trying to look interested in the mangled drawing she was producing, wondering why this agitated him so much.

"I wouldn't say anything," she said quietly, risking a glance in his direction. She looked away when she saw his eyes on her.

His face, which to Bella, had been marked more by its lack of expression, than any particular emotion, now wore some strong emotion, pulling his features into an unsettling fervour. "I am made to serve the Gods, and the . . . creatures that had you, were made likewise." He traced the shape of two infinite loops, set crosswise at his neck. "But even my touch marks you. Sets you apart." He looked at her directly, face uncomfortably close to hers as he bent himself over. "Your human life is gone, child. But its end will have meaning. I will see to that."

Like Hell, Bella thought, but only gritted her teeth in response.

He was true to his word, in terms of meeting her physical needs, and when the sky finally darkened, she was relieved to go to sleep. The day's fears had exhausted her, and her traitorous body sunk into a deep sleep.

She was dreaming, of Jacob, and Paul, and the noises their fight had made, when a tight and cold embrace woke her, the night's outside air less cool over her body.

"Quiet," the Dacian whispered, his solid hand over her mouth.

"EDWARD!" she shrieked.

Her eyes had adjusted, but it wasn't Edward she was seeing. It was two vampires, and one wolf, forms snarled together in battle.

The wolf was losing.

It was favouring a paw, still nimble enough on three others, but clearly disadvantaged.

The woman—Danica—was circling, her now one-armed mate nearby, good side towards the fight, eyes searching for something.

His arm, Bella realized. Emmett had told her about this. If he found it, he'd reattach it.

"Help the wolf!" she tried to tell the Dacian, but he either couldn't understand her, or wouldn't listen.

The woman lashed out with her hand, but the wolf jumped back, leveraging itself onto its haunches and leaping forward, snapping at the woman's exposed hand.

She roared as the tips of her fingers disappeared in its mouth.

The man—Carl, Bella remembered—yelled out to the Dacian. "What is wrong with you? Help us, and we can share her." He lifted his chin to Bella, "Or we can feed you to the fire you idiot!"

The Dacian didn't move.

Bella was trying to figure out what the odds were on this wolf, when the clouds parted, and the moonlight filtered through the trees to illuminate the large russet form she knew by sight.

"Jacob?"

The wolf snarled at the attacking man, this time snapping off his lower leg.

Then, Bella couldn't see anything else, because she heard the voice she'd been longing for.

"Give her to us."

The Dacian's grip didn't shift, but his posture did, turning, Bella still wrapped in his arms.

Edward stood directly in front of them, Carlisle and Alice on either side. The fight brewed on behind them, sounds rapidly shifting, and then diminishing.

"Blasphemers!" the Dacian roared.

Edward stared, and Bella tried, silenced by the Dacian's hand, to muster enough anger to make him able to hear her. Her fear, though, was too tightly wound, ringing itself around her, just like the Dacian's arms.

"I know who you seek," Carlisle said, his voice a surprise to Bella.

"What do you know, blasphemer?" the Dacian hissed back.

"You're a Dacian."

The Dacian actually turned and spat on the ground. "You dirty the word with your unclean mouth."

"We are not blasphemers, Dacian. Surely you see that." Carlisle fingered his neck, and Bella felt, more than heard the sharp intake of air at her back.

Edward continued to stare, his face stony and silent.

"You see?" Carlisle asked.

"Yes," the Dacian said, but warily. "Then how do you know me?"

"The Volturi spoke of your kind."

There was a spitting noise behind her, and Bella flinched.

"Barabe!" he muttered.

"To some," Carlisle conceded. "You've kept your ways. Been faithful."

"Yes."

"Your masters would surely welcome your returned services. They've gone without a long time."

Bella felt the Dacian nod.

"Would you like our help, in finding your place?"

Another nod, and then another, faster. She could hear him swallow. Her own breathing hitched up a notch.

"We will help you, but first, we need to solve our own problem."

"And what is that?"

"You're holding it."

Bella's heart stopped.

"If we are to find your masters, she," Carlisle gestured to Bella, "cannot remain."

"Why not?"

Bella wondered the same thing, though much more fearfully, her heart lodged in her throat.

"The Volturi—" Carlisle began, then pausing, waiting for the Dacian's growl to end. "Destroy any who share the secret of our existence, and any humans who know it." He looked at Bella. "We can hardly seek their help—"

"I don't need the devil's help to serve heaven, fool."

"No, but they know where your masters are, at least, the ones they've let live."

Above her own, fractured heart beat, Bella could hear the Dacian swallow hard behind her.

"My family is . . . weary of this threat. We welcome it's removal. Permanently."

Carlisle? Bella wanted to ask, but couldn't even fully form the thought. Of course. She'd been an imposition. She didn't dare look at Edward, studying the ground in front of her.

This was it.

She'd been on borrowed time since she met him. Underneath all her attempts to convince herself otherwise, she knew she had nothing to offer him, and the final blossoming of this denial was in front of her. She was a loose end, and one that was very soon going to be cut.

She just didn't realize how literally, until the Dacian produced a knife. Its steel reflected the scattered moonlight.

"Then return it to the earth," the Dacian said, "as we do with the excess."

"Edward?" Carlisle asked, turning to him.

Edward nodded, and moved forwards.

"I'm sorry, Bella," Carlisle said, "It shouldn't have come to this. I'm sorry I didn't end it earlier. More humanely."

She closed her eyes. Half of her heart was breaking at the betrayal, and the other was condemning herself for her idiotic delusions.

"I'm sorry too," Edward said softly.

Her eyes flung open, and she made herself search his. They were a silent black in the night's darkness.

"But I'll make it quick," Edward whispered, as the Dacian's grip loosened, and Edward's tightened. The dull edge of the knife was cold at her neck. "I promise all of this will be all over soon."

Then she was flying, the knife gone, her body curled into Edward's rigid arms, and they were twenty yards away.

Bella barely had time to understand what was happening, before Carlisle's loud, "Alice, no!" made Bella whip her head back towards where the Dacian stood.

Alice's hands were wrapped around his head, legs squatting on his shoulders, an open mouth and sharp teeth communicating her intention. Jasper and Emmett stood on either side, pinning his arms.

"End it!" Edward growled.

"No," Carlisle said again, more quietly. "We made a duplicitous bargain, but we made a bargain nonetheless."

"You can't be serious," Edward said.

Bella was holding onto him, trying to make sense of all of this. So far, she had grasped that no one was going to kill her, and that Edward was here. She was safe. Anything else seemed extraneous.

A diffuse growling was bubbling in Bella's peripheral hearing. It morphed into a circle of wolves, now moving closer.

"Jacob?"

"He's fine," Edward said, his fingers stroking her face. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Are you?"

"Yes," she hushed back, hands reaching for his face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "We had to convince him—"

"It's OK. I understand."

Their small moment was interrupted by louder growling.

"They don't want us to let him go, Carlisle," Edward said.

"Doesn't take a mind reader to figure that out," Emmett mumbled.

"He didn't harm her," Carlisle said. "And he even protected her from those who would."

"He took her," Edward growled.

"Yes, and he'll know not to trouble us again."

"Treacherous liars!" the Dacian hurled at all of them.

"Only to save her," Carlisle said. His voice was even and calm. "And we'd do so again. No one harms our family." Then he looked around the circle of wolves. "He hasn't hurt a human. You can see that yourself."

"He was more than willing to, Carlisle."

"Only because we suggested it," Edward's father said softly. Then to the Dacian, "You'll go now. Find your masters if you please. But you will not trouble us, or humans again. Will you?"

"No," the Dacian said.

To Bella, he seemed remarkably uninterested in his own fate, his eyes only flickering at the mention of masters she never wanted to meet.

"He hasn't broken the treaty we keep. He should be free to leave," Carlisle said, now to the gathered wolves.

As Bella looked at Edward, his eyebrows rose. "They accept." THere was a loud growling at this. "Not without protest, but they accept."

Alice hoped down from the creature's shoulders, and Jasper and Emmett released him, and then he was gone.

Edward didn't even say anything, they were running, Bella's hands fisted into his shirt, eyes shut against the movement she knew would take her home.

Author's postscript: If you're wondering what happens to this odd character, you can read on in my one-shot, "The Dacians"

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.