Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephenie Meyers... not mine. So don't sue me and all of that.

What You Should Be Reading: For something ridiculously fun, funny, and speedily updating (daily or every other day), go read EARTHQUAKE! by Thallium81. It's like Indiana Jones meets Lara Croft meets genius - I dunno. Just read it. There's virgin sacrifice and a large and amusing jaguar, so you have no reason not to. Also, not that she needs the pimpin' (heh), but I'm now attacking the commas of Wide Awake for AngstGoddess003, whose latest chaps can be found at http(dot)//angstgoddess003(dot)livejournal(dot)com. And I forgive her for spelling my pen name wrong, even as I shake my head.

Author's Note: So, love me, because I worked my tail off to get this chapter out. And don't be surprised that there's another cliffie at the end. There are two-three more chapters left after this one - and the final bit is mostly all written, so yay! and cry... There's quite a bit of slang in here, and its explained in the end notes at the bottom.

It's also a bit violent, too. I mean vampires fighting is sorta violent. So yeah...

Chapter 34: Water and Sacrifice

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.

The silver-haired vamp lunged for Estela, while Olivier flew at me.

I dodged, shooting out to the left, ducking behind one of the boilers and flying behind a row of foot-wide insulated pipes.

Olivier's fingers missed me by almost nothing—the sharp tips of his finger nails snatched at me from less than a hair's breadth away.

Estela was wrestling with the female vampire, but she was fighting a losing battle—the vampire's teeth too close to her neck for my comfort. She needed me. I flew out from behind the other side of the boiler and lunged at them. I managed to kick old bitch in the jaw, as I wrested Estela free from her grasp. Estela spun out and flew again at the female—slamming her into the stone wall and sending concrete and brick and dust flying.

Swinging in from behind, Olivier caught my arm—but Estela knocked it free, sending him reeling backwards.

But Olivier found his footing, straightening and then sinking into a crouch in front of us. The old bitch joined him.

And Estela and I were both backed into a corner.

Old bitch looked pissed, but Olivier's eyes sparkled. He was enjoying every second of this.

I grasped Estela's hand in my own.

When they move, we'll dodge at my call—okay?

Estella gave a subtle nod.

And yet Olivier's all-seeing eyes missed none of the exchange. He was the first to break the tense silence. "How very pleasant to see you again, Renesmee—and most charming, you brought a friend." He loftily waved a hand in the direction of Estela, while smirking arrogantly at me.

I stared frostily back at him.

"As charming as ever," he murmured with thick sarcasm. "And of course, I brought a friend, too—Bernadette, or Bernie as I prefer to call her, is an old friend of mine." He waved a hand out to "Bernie," who glowered at Estela and me—between her tryst with the wall and the knock to her jaw, she had taken the worst blows so far.

In fact, my knuckles were still smarting.

Olivier turned to face Estela, and then flicked his eyes over to me. When neither Estela nor I spoke, Olivier continued, "Well, perhaps, introductions would be naught more than a superfluous banality, since I am informed of your name after all—Estela," he purred out her name with more mocking sarcasm. "And you must know that I am called Olivier." He took a short bow.

Estela's wild eyes flicked over to mine. Her face said one thing: he's a loco.

I squeezed her hand tighter. Don't let him provoke you. You watch Bernie—and I'll watch Olivier.

Olivier watched us closely. "If you're planning on playing any tricks, please desist in your efforts, mesdemoiselles. Any little games that you could play won't work here—and besides, such manipulations would be rude by any account," he added, casually polishing his finger nails against the cuff in his wool coat.

At his side, Bernie sniffed, impatient and obviously bored with Olivier's antics. Her impatience put me at greater unease—what was she impatient for?

Estela spoke carefully, "Our friends and family are on their way. Four versus two, not good odds, no?"

Olivier gave her a wide smile, showing off his perfectly aligned white teeth, and then he turned to Bernie. "Dearest Bernie, do you have the time?" he asked pleasantly.

Bernie gave him a mocking smile in return. "Why should I give you the time, if you know it already?" she crooned with a hint of irritation.

Olivier waved his hand at her dismissively. He seemed to wait a moment, his head bobbing slightly from side to the side as he seemed to be counting, and then he held up three fingers, two fingers, a single finger, and finally just a fist—and out of nowhere a horn-like sound erupted from some distant location. It sounded like it came from many rooms over, but then it drew closer and closer, and a deep whooshing sound seemed to push through one of the larger pipes, and a guttural pumping chomped on the far side of the room. I saw the hands on several of the gauges jump. The whispering rushing of liquid echoed from the surrounding air vents. All of these sounds unnerved Estela and me, but Olivier sat in total ease, hand gestures following the chain of noises in perfect sync, like he was conducting an orchestra.

When he spoke again, it was with terrible delight. "That, mes belles filles, was the sound of your scents being washed out and into the river. The pipes flush every morning at 2:00:00 hours, and today was no exception."

Estela gasped. I tensed, clutching her hand more tightly.

You messaged them. Did you tell them where we were going?

Estela didn't move.

Bad sign.

"Now that all of this lovely yet vexatious posturing is behind us, I'm all for dispensing with further ceremony and speaking forthrightly. Renesmee, my dear, you have behaved rather discourteously since our first meeting—"

"—you bit me and killed my friend," I spat, unable to hold my tongue any longer.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk, and now we're interrupting, too? And in truth, Renesmee, I was quite pleased to see you fully recovered. I did send flowers, after all."

A hiss escaped my throat.

"And as for your friend..." he trailed. "Well, I think we both know that you deserved that. After all, such an attachment to humans is assuredly unnatural. After all, it's what led you here." He pursed his lips as if upset. "Too, too easy, and here Bernie was worried that no one could fall for such a stupid ploy, but you see, Renesmee dearest, you are fantastically easy to read."

And then he turned to Estela. "And she dragged you here, too, and you accompanied her without a thought—a good friend. Well, Estela, as I said before, a friend of Renesmee's is a friend of mine..." he trailed off suggestively.

His tone caused the hairs on the back of my neck to prickle. Both Estela and I sank instinctively deeper into our defensive crouches.

Olivier raised his brows, smirking. "And for pity's sake, cease with the show of force. This really isn't the time for comedy hour. This is all very simple. We," he motioned between him and Bernie, "are faster, stronger, and venomous. You cannot win a fight, so let's avoid it, shall we?"

And then as if responding to an unseen signal, both Olivier and Bernie slammed into us, pinning the both of us into the stonework.

Olivier's cloying breath feathered across my face.

"Your absence pained me," he murmured less than sweetly as his red eyes met my eyes and his body flattened mine against the wall.

"Leave her alone!" Estela yelled angrily, even as Bernie pinned her wrists, and I couldn't help but notice that though stronger, Bernie had a much harder time constraining Estela than Olivier had to constrain me.

She could get away.

"Let her go," I insisted, looking pleadingly from Olivier to Estela.

"No!" Estela screamed before anyone could reply.

Olivier and Bernie both laughed.

"Mon Olivier, how funny? And I had thought it impossible, but it would appear, you have won our petit wager..." Bernie put on a fake pout.

"So self-sacrificing, the both of you. It's tediously predictable, really," Olivier droned blandly.

"Just let her go," I insisted.

"Now, Renesmee, do you recall the last time I ignored a friend of yours? You pilfered my mobile, gave it to your friend on the sly, and then tried to abandon me—that ended rather poorly, wouldn't you agree?" he taunted.

"Please, just let Estela go. She had nothing to do with this, and it's different now. She's here." I threw a look in Bernie's direction.

"Yes, she is," Olivier acknowledged. "But then we must consider that your friend this time around isn't a weak little human either, is she? Moreover, your foolish acts of treachery in our recent past have hurt your credibility with me, my dear girl. You see, I really don't trust you." His tone ended in menace.

"She had—"

But he cut me off. "—neither of you are leaving. In fact..." he glanced over at Bernie. "I think the both of you will be staying her for a while."

Apparently, this was not planned, because Bernie hissed.

"Hush now, Bernie," Olivier began.

But Bernie was not to be shushed. "And how are we in supposed to hunt with the both of them here? J'ai mon voyage! No! No more 'new plans.' Déguidine! We'll kill one of them, and then you can play with your petit chum de fille—no more of these games."

"Oh, Bernie. No need to resort to dramatics. And you just had your souper, too," he spared a glance for the corpse in the corner. "So why the irascibility, ma Bernadette?

"Don't play l'insignifiant, Olivier," Bernie hissed.

"Oh, how you underestimate me. It pains me, you know?"

Bernie arched a high brow at him.

"All I have to do is bite one of them," he said with leisure. "We'll have to suck the nasty stuff out of course, but I'm sure it will entice the other to behave—" Olivier's voice cut off, because both Estela and I had begun thrashing in our captors' arms.

Olivier's strength easily kept me pinned, but I could felt his control weaken slightly when I assaulted his mind with images. Blackness and then flashes of light. Corpses illuminated. Melting in fire. A great charring conflagration. And then ashes blowing away, only to burn again—

The sensation of Olivier's teeth at my neck cut me off.

I heard Estela scream.

I wanted to jerk and see her, but if I moved—Olivier's teeth—

"Ever the ungovernable picture show, aren't you?" Olivier muttered against my neck.

I had to stop myself from taking a snap at the cold, marble skin of his exposed throat. He would feel it if I even dared to try, and his jaws would assuredly kill me first.

"Estela, is she...?"

"I'm okay, Nessie," I heard Estela growl.

I heard Bernie's cackle.

Estela was not okay. Neither of us were okay. And it was my fault. My idiotic, foolhardy, and guilt-induced fault.

Again.

Olivier took a long breath against my neck. He growled. "Will you never not smell foul when we finally meet? I'm really going to have to do something about that dog, won't I?"

I stiffened in his arms.

He felt it.

"Time for a bath, I think, and bring dearest Estela, Bernie," Olivier started to pull on my arm.

I resisted.

He let his head roll to the side as he eyed me in disbelief. "You would think you were trying to get me to kill you," he groaned with exaggerated frustration.

"Now," he said firmly. "Let's go." He pulled on my arm, and this time I let him pull me forward. I heard the sounds of Estela and Bernie's footsteps tailing behind us. Olivier led me down a long brick corridor, with multiple doors lining the sides. He opened a battered wood door at the end of the hall and pushed me inside. This room, unlike the former, showed signs of being from a different era. Permanently-capped old bibcock pipes lined the walls, the salt-glazed vitrified clay looking worn and even cracked on half of them. It was clear that the room was no longer in use. The only remotely functional-looking device was a single thin pipe on the west wall with a red spicket at its center. Someone had chalked "potable" onto the bricks beside it.

Olivier dragged me up to the pipe.

"Don't forget to wash behind your ears," he clucked warningly.

And then he turned on the water.

It came out in a blast, hitting the side of my head—cold but not icy—not that I cared. In a strange way, the water was refreshing, clearing my head of any previous fog. And yet, it only made me aware of new problems, like the positions of Olivier's hands on my body. One was fisted in my hair, keeping me in the spray of water, but the other sat lower, his thumb hooked on the curve of my hip bone, while his index finger sat much further down.

And then he moved—and because he pushed my face into the water, I couldn't see, but his hand caught the bottom of dress and yanked it upward, smashing it against my breast as he pushed me into the water again.

I struggled in his grasp.

And behind me, I heard the sounds of Estela's shrieking as well.

"Oh, shut up," Olivier barked, teeth once again threatening at the skin on my throat.

My body stilled, but my breathing remained rampant.

"Did you really think I would let the smell of mutt linger under your dress? It's disgusting."

"Don't touch me," I growled.

"Sorry," he cooed—though it wasn't an apology, because he pushed me into the brick wall again, still holding my dress up, and the lower half of him pushing into me—hard. I tried to jerk my head to the side, but his mouth caught mine, and I found the old nightmare repeating itself—but this time it was worse. His lips moved furiously against mine. The saccharine taste of cold venom flooding my senses, only to be bested by Olivier's hand grabbing between my legs, and then his tongue forcing in between my lips, bruising and iron-hard. I found myself cringing at the pain of it.

Somewhere in the room, I heard Estela yelling. But my mind failed to sort out the words.

But something that Estela said caught Olivier's attention.

His lips broke from mine.

And he turned with a flourish, finally letting the edge of my dress fall. I furiously smoothed down the fabric.

"Just e'stop! I'll do whatever you want. I'm not some young innocent. I know what I'm doing—I can make it... nice," she finished slowly.

It took a minute for the words to process in my head.

And then I was the one shrieking.

Olivier clamped a hand over my mouth, causing me to choke on the sudden lack of oxygen.

"Bernie," he said, nodding her over.

Bernie let go of Estela and came to grab me. She smirked at Olivier as she approached, shaking her head slightly.

Olivier turned to Estela. "Please, get in the water," he ordered coolly.

Estela stepped into the rush of water, leaning her head back and letting the water trail down through her hair, while she more than obviously pressed her breasts out.

And then it hit me.

And my stomach flipped.

She was really going to do it.

Fucking entice him.

And she was doing it for me.

"Estela, NO!" I yelled, pushing on Bernie's grip.

Olivier turned to Bernie, ignoring me. "Be a doll and take her outside, would you, Bernie?"

I flailed in her arms, but it accomplished nothing.

I could only look into Estela's eyes.

Still wild and beautiful.

And utterly fearless.

And yet—begging.

All my fault.

And the next thing I knew I was thrown out of the room and rolling across the bricks. I heard the click of the door behind me, and then a heel of a shoe pressing into my back before I could stand.

"Now lay quiet, and be a bonne fille," Bernie sang.

"No," I hissed.

"Fantastique," she muttered dryly.

And then she cracked my head against the stone.

I felt a splitting pain.

And then nothing.

End notes:

French and Quebecois Slang
1. Mes belles filles = my beautiful girls
2. J'ai mon voyage! = I'm fed up (Quebecois)
3. Déguidine! = Hurry up!
4. Petit chum de fille = little female friend
5. Souper = dinner
6. Insignifiant = stupid [person]
7. Bonne fille = good girl

***So, the next chapter should be out in a timely fashion, but obviously may take longer than this update to get out, cuz its the climax, and I want to get it RIGHT. However, rest assured that I'm working steadily. :-)