Smooches to Lou and Sally! You're simply the best, ladies.

Chapter 7

Aristotle Volturi was a man with a sharp mind. He had Emmett's belongings with him after he had emptied his captive's pockets thoroughly. Once he opened the list of last calls from Emmett's phone and saw Carlisle's name repeated quite a few times, he put two and two together immediately.

"Marcus," he was speaking into his expensive, modern handset a minute later, "we have to pay a visit to an old friend."

There was a fucking halo around Jasper's golden hair with the sun shining brightly through the kitchen window. Edward blinked a few times, not able to distinguish Jasper's shadowed features quite clearly, and tried to comprehend what that kiss meant. He pushed at the firm chest before him and sucked in a deep breath. Jasper's grip on his arms was hurting; well, nearly hurting and maybe just a little bit helping him stand upright. The dizziness had become nastier, now combined with the effort to name the feeling which had formed in his stomach.

He realized his thoughts had become girlish. Butterflies, that's what came to mind about what happened with his stomach.

Yeah, that's girl talk. I'm a man, dammit, he recollected and pushed a second time with real force. The grip on his arms loosened and, in the next moment, Jasper was on his ass on the kitchen floor. Giggling.

"Now, now. Edward, was it that bad?" Jasper smirked, helping himself onto one knee.

Edward didn't know what to say. No, it wasn't that bad.

Emmett stirred on the kitchen sofa.

"I'm gonna go fetch him a blanket," Jasper announced quietly, already standing. "Look, I'm sorry. Couldn't help it."

He left the room, leaving Edward absolutely dismayed.

Okay, food, Edward remembered. He opened the fridge and helped himself to a piece of cold, unappetizing, leftover pizza.

Then Jasper was back in the room, tucking a blanket around Emmett's sleeping body while Edward chewed absentmindedly. The cloud of golden hair approached with that stupid halo around it again, and Edward couldn't help but notice that Jasper looked like an angel. A cold-faced, cunning, perfect angel whose teeth, at the moment, were biting his full, also perfect, lower lip.

"Look, we need to talk," the angel said in a low voice. The teeth stopped disturbing the lip and a smile appeared on the face, which was now too, too near. "Ah, you got something here." A finger approached Edward's mouth and picked something at the corner, grazing slightly. The finger flew to the full lips, a tongue appeared and licked at something red, and now the angel turned into a bloodthirsty vampire with crimson-stained lips and eyes too dark to be real.

Ah, tomato sauce. Edward shook his head to clear his mind a little.

"Are you all right?" A palm rested on Edward's cheek, and a thumb glided over the skin under his left eye. "I don't like the shadows under your eyes, and you're so pale. I think I need to get you into bed." Jasper was whispering. Edward shivered.

"No, I'm fine," Edward blurted out.

"Shush, we'll wake him up." Oh, right, Emmett. "Come to my room." Jasper was still whispering. He held out a hand. Edward didn't take it but obeyed the inviting gesture thoughtlessly and stood up.

The several steps down to Jasper's room were of immense importance. They helped Edward clear his vision. He understood he felt attracted to both inhabitants of this apartment. And he realized he knew nothing about them, other than the fact Bella was a bohemian with a drinking problem, and Jasper was a man of surprising knowledge about strokes and wounds. He needed to know more. Especially about Jasper.

"Aro, I thought he had retired from the museum," a tall man with greasy long hair spoke while he held the door for Aristotle Volturi.

"He has, but it seems he still has an unhealthy interest in my deeds. Now, be quiet, Marcus."

The tall man shrugged and reached for the master key from inside his pocket. They entered the building and ascended to the second floor without further discussion.

Jasper's room had a huge bed, a set of bookshelves, a wardrobe, a TV stand, and a small desk with a MacBook on top. There was only one chair, and Edward was invited to take a seat. Jasper plopped on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and burying nervously playing fingers in his hair.

"Uh, this is a mess," he said. "We do need to talk, right?"

Right, Edward thought and started attacking Jasper with questions right away.

Ten minutes later, he knew a bit more about the girl and a lot more about the man.

Bella came from Forks, where she had lived with her father. He'd been a cop and got killed by a drug addict a couple years ago. To make a long story short, the poor thing had witnessed her father's murder, left town, lived on her father's pension, and drank herself to a stupor regularly. She hadn't been in any long-lasting relationships and, according to Jasper, was not capable of one. Not in her state of mind.

Jasper, too, was not born in Seattle. He had come all the way from Texas because he had some relatives here; he was seeking a better future for himself. He was between jobs, having worked as a bartender, then construction worker, but also an assistant at a nursing home (at that point Edward got his a-ha! moment about Jasper's medical knowledge), and was now aiming at a position in children's day care.

Now that's a surprise, Edward thought, gobsmacked. But then, why not. He's actually very gentle and caring when he wants to be.

Jasper had liked the neighborhood and searched for a place to rent for a while until he'd met Bella in a bar. She'd been looking for a housemate. They'd sealed the deal right after he mentioned he was gay and wasn't interested in anything but a place to live. They'd been living together for almost a year.

Edward and Jasper chatted about everything and nothing for a while. And then, two things happened within a several second timespan: a startling noise came from the second floor and Bella barged in.

"There's someone in Carlisle's apartment," Bella shouted.

"So much for secrecy." Aristotle grunted and grabbed Marcus's hand, leading him out of the apartment in haste. "We are finished here anyway."

With his lips pursed and eyes full of bitterness, the man named Marcus dragged his feet with obvious effort.

"Hurry up, my friend," Aristotle insisted.

"God, I hate him so much. We need to find where he is, Aro."

"He's in a hospital."

"What? How do you know?"

"Didn't you see the syringe and all the mess beside his bed? It's the only logical explanation. He's been ill and taken to a hospital. We only need to ask someone if they've seen an ambulance, then you'll believe."

There was a girl in the street. Jumping rope, her little feet tapped a steady rhythm until she faltered, surprised by a scary-looking man who snatched at her shoulder. The rope snapped his arm and he squinted. His greasy hair hid one of his eyes when he bent to speak into her ear.

"Young lady, I have a question for you," the man said, and the girl peed a little in her pants.

"Now we call the police," Bella announced, looking at Carlisle's opened door. "I'm sure it was locked."

"It was," Edward confirmed.

"No, wait!" Jasper grunted. He snatched the cellphone from Bella's hand and threw it against the wall. "We're absolutely not calling the police."

His companions stared at him, wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry." Jasper raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "I'm going in to have a look inside, then we're going upstairs and I'll explain."

He bent down to pull at his trouser leg and uncovered a boot and a shiny gun strapped around his calf. He removed the gun and something clicked while he straightened his body and turned on his heels.

"Wait here."