Disclaimer: Waxing Crescent is mine. Twilight is not mine.

Story to check out: Go check out Miss My Lion by Houroflead - she's great, and she also writes the Porcupine Embrace which is an AH Edward/Bella.

Randomness: So, boo. I suck. Sorry about the forever wait on this update. I did finish all 90k of Nymph and the Waterfall, though (yay, me!) And I plan to finish however many thousand words Waxing Crescent will end up being - so no fears. I promise not to be one of those authors who never finish their shit. Anyway, this chapter isn't the longest either, but it's the length it should be. Hopefully you all will be happy about the direction of the action - and forgive me for the cliffie. *hides*

Chapter 33: Shoot the Chute

Her black eyes held just a tinge of crimson as she winked at us. And then she and the boar face man disappeared into the dead of the night.

Estela and I sat still for only a moment.

And then I stood up.

I immediately began moving to the doorway.

But Estela grabbed my arm.

"Nessie—no."

"Estela—she's going to drain him."

"She's a predator—he's her prey. It's the same thing Zafrina and her sisters do." She shrugged. "It's what I used to do."

Humans aren't animals. Everyone is connected to someone else. Maybe they have a family. A love. A Jacob. A Luke. An Alyssa.

But I didn't speak these thoughts aloud, instead I argued to Estela, "But we saw him. He talked to us."

"And he was an ass, no? This was not Madre Teresa who walked out the doorway. In fact, he even smelled bad—I don't know why she chose him." Estela wrinkled her nose.

"He may be an ass, but maybe he has three kids—a young son who looks up to him, even if he only sees his dad on weekends since his parents divorced. Maybe, that man has a mother who loves him. Maybe, he a cat named Raul who expects his tuna-salmon breakfast tomorrow morning."

Estela stared at me like I was crazy.

I stared back. I wasn't going to let another human die in front of my eyes, so I looked her in the eyes and told her, "What I am saying is that I don't care—good human or bad—I'm going." I started to turn.

Estela grabbed my arm.

"What did you promise your family?"

I frowned at her.

"You promised you would not go off on your own, no?"

"Fine, then," I said, and I eyed her with the arrogance that can only come from drinking two liters of grain alcohol. "You'll have to come with me then, won't you?"

And with that I slipped out her arm, threw a handful of bills down on the table, and fled out the door.

Estela cursed and stomped.

But she followed.

By the time we walked outside, the silver-haired woman and the round-faced man were nowhere in sight. Their pair of scents disappeared in a northerly direction, down the darkened street and toward the river. The scent of blood, however, was already in the air. It would have been imperceptible to any human—but both Estella's and my nostrils flared at the fresh smell.

Estela spoke for me. "She knocked him unconscious, and then she ran with him," she concluded, taking a long assessing breath and scanning the area.

I started walking.

"It's too late, Nessie," she argued. "She'll already have had him." She began punching the number pad on her phone, probably letting Jake and Nahuel know "what a brat Nessie was being."

But I was not stopping. A single image was flashing through my head. Alyssa in the clearing in the woods. Alyssa in the lighthouse. Alyssa teetering on the edge of the cliff. The slowed erratic beat of Alyssa's heart until it finally stopped. The tears and anguish of Alyssa's family—and friends. The expressions on the faces of my friends. Death. Sadness. More death.

But I had a chance to stop a death now. To stop a murder.

I followed the scent. I heard the clicking of Estela's heels behind me as I followed the scent trail. I ran swiftly, passing brick warehouse after brick warehouse—all of the buildings either windowless or shuttered. When I reached the boardwalk, I paused. My gaze swept along the docks, looking for any signs of movement.

Nothing.

Behind me Estela's heels clicked impatiently.

I ignored her and hopped over the concrete wall and down onto the muddy bank below, crunching a long forgotten soda can as I landed.

Estela followed with a groan.

"She's gone—en el rió!" Estela spat, angrily pointing at the sweeping body of water in front of us, and then when I paid her no heed, she started to stomp and swear in Spanish. "No hay ninguna razón que estamos aquí. Esto es bien loco—y ahora… ¡estamos en la mierda! ¿Qué chévere, no?" she droned sarcastically.

"She didn't take him in the river, Estela."

Estela turned to face me, clearly ready to continue the tirade.

Instead, her eyes popped.

Her eyes popped, because in front of us stood a large circular iron grate, rusted and brined from its long stand along the river. Behind the grate, quite obviously, was a long, murky tunnel, extending at least one-hundred yards back underneath the city. At its terminus, it split along two paths.

The scent of blood was fainter now—the man had stopped bleeding from whatever initial wound the silver-haired vampire had given him. The scent followed the trail to the left. The path was clear, so I tugged on the gate, causing it to creak and rumble as it swung out to open.

"Eh, no—e'stop, Nessie. This is no good," Estela insisted.

"I'm going after her. I already told you that."

"And a'whatcha gonna do when you find her? Fight eza vampire for her meal?"

I stopped at the mouth of the tunnel. I turned back to face my friend.

"I'll talk to her," I stated in total seriousness.

"Talk to her?" Even tipsy Estela wasn't buying that one.

"Yes, I'll talk to her."

"And a'what exactly are you going to talk about?" Estela asked incredulously.

"Not hunting on Cullen family turf," I said decidedly. Hunting so close to an established coven was certainly bad manners.

Estela snorted. "That'za not gonna work, Nessie. The north ez nobody's 'turf.'"

"Wouldn't hurt to try," I replied dismissively as I began walking down the tunnel, carefully staying to the side of the sludge running down the bottom of the massive pipe. Whatever had puddled there smelled awful.

Behind me I heard more cursing in Spanish.

But then familiar sound of clicking heels matched my pace—like I knew it would.

"Nessie, she could have a coven, herself. We should leave them be."

"They have no reason to hurt us."

"They have no reason not to hurt us. They won't be serving tea and crumpets, no? Normal vampires don't just go walking down sewer pipes for fun, no?"

"Mm-hmm," I answered noncommittally, turning at the fork to the left.

But Estela wasn't giving up. "Why not wait for Jakie and Nahuelito?"

I spun on my heel, glaring at her. "I'm not waiting on Jake," I growled.

Estela pursed her lips, seeming to shrink back slightly at my coldness, before throwing her hands up in the air. "Ay, fine, Nessie! Let's find your lady vampire and have the chat, and then we'll go home, fine?"

I didn't respond but continued down the tunnel, increasing my speed as the tunnel seemed to continue endlessly on, though I could see another end point in the distance. I had to avoid fallen stones and bricks and pot holes as I ran. Liquid also dripped on me at random as I ran—the condensation forming into drops on the curved ceiling.

When I reached the final terminus, I turned again, braced for anything—but instead…

It was a dead end.

And the silver-haired vampire was nowhere in sight. No sounds. Nothing.

The scent of blood, however, seemed to explode around us.

"She bit him," I whispered aloud.

I heard of murmur of assent from Estela behind me. Her face was wary.

"But where…?" I trailed looking for the possible exit.

And then I saw it, at least fifteen feet in the air above us.

An open air vent.

The scent of blood flowed out of it.

"Eh, no—don't even think—" Estela began to whine.

But she was cut off by my jump. I easily leapt to the vent and balanced myself on the edge. When I peered into it, I saw that it went straight for about five feet and then curved at a downward angle—it was a chute.

"It's a chute," I told her.

"Come back down, Nessie!" she cried from below.

I rolled my eyes. "We've come this far," I argued.

She stared back at me.

"Fine, call Nahuel and Jake if it'll make you feel better," I growled, frustrated.

Estela lifted her phone as if to dial, but then she stopped and blinked. "No service," she announced.

I shrugged.

She gave me a warning look.

I ignored it and edged farther into the shaft.

I heard Estela's sigh from down below and then a thump as she padded onto the ledge behind me and squeezed into the air shaft.

"You ready?" I asked as I put my legs over the edge.

"Nessie, eh no." She shook her head, looking unnerved at the steep incline.

"It's a slide, Estela! When's the last time you got to go down a slide?" I urged with tipsy enthusiasm.

"Estela doesn't slide," she said pointedly.

"Well, there's no day like today, right?"

She gave me an exasperated roll of the eyes.

And then I pushed off, sliding down the long shoot.

Behind me, I heard Estela push off, too.

And we slid down the chute.

I found myself being surprised at the length of chute, and even more surprised as I gained speed.

Faster and faster.

The scent of blood growing.

And then out of nowhere.

A new smell.

Not dewy.

I tried to dig my heels in, slowing myself, but Estela smacked into me from behind. Her legs smashed into my back and propelled me down and then out of the chute.

And into a dark and steamy room with boilers and gauges and pipes everywhere.

The boar faced man lay dead in the corner, his face ashen. He had been drained.

And standing in the center of the room was the silver-haired vamp.

At her side, Olivier.

"How nice of you ladies to finally join us," he said.

And then the both of them leapt at us.

...

So, next chappie should be up sooooon, now that I'm updatin' again.