New Blood/New Ink
It takes all of a minute to reach the borderline; the usually calming lush green forest does nothing to soothe my racing thoughts. I'm flanked by wolves on all sides – it's new and very weird and Jasper is going to throw a fit; if I could stop focusing on how exuberant I am the closer I get back to him I'd laugh at the mental image of him pouting. What does break my focus is another pair of wolves, one slightly gangly with variations of sandy brown fur and another far smaller wolf, light grey and impossibly quick, as they join our mad dash. The latter tears ahead through the forest with me close behind; I'm working with all of my marks at once, and we're both blurs obscured by leaves and bark.
A thrill runs through my body, all pleasure and contentment, as we break into a small clearing. It's another instant assimilation of thoughts, though this one doesn't take days of me being passed out. In less than a second Jazz is all caught up on what happened during the last hour. This all happens before he fully turns to look at me; when he does the first thing I notice is his bright smile – megawatt and instantly infectious. Then I notice how light his eyes are from hunting, almost the color of champagne…but there's an undeniable red tinge to them, just around the pupil. Hopefully I'm the only one that notices; I take a deep breath of the woodland air to clear my head – not to prepare myself for the repercussions we might face because Jasper has been sampling a little of my blood, but because of the wild desire it stirs in the pit of my stomach. There's something really wrong with me if the thought of my vampire boyfriend drinking my blood gets me all hot and bothered, but it's just too damn good. He's too damn good.
His smile morphs into a smirk, and I flush scarlet. He's paying attention to my thoughts closely, the cheeky fuck.
As I exhale I concentrate on the scents of the forest; I detect a few underlying aromas that don't belong. Cheap perfume, maybe not the same Red used to wear a year ago, but close enough. Filthy, musty clothing – ancient and unwashed and covering dirty stone skin…it's not just Victoria I smell on the wind.
"Frenchie." I say the name as a snarl, teeth snapping as I speak, "I knew I should have killed him – damn it, this is what we get for being mercif-"
There's a low growl from somewhere behind me, and it's not one of the larger wolves now filing into the clearing with bared teeth and bad attitudes. When I turn my head to tell Leah now's not the time, her dark eyes shift from Jasper to Brynjar.
When they land on the tall Viking her stance shifts and the small grey wolf moves forward as if mesmerized; he's not hard on the eyes, Bryn, just on the nerves. He's basically Thor in the flesh, with a super ridiculous beard. He's about the same height as Jazz – tall as hell – and definitely more bulky; he was a Viking back in the day, swinging axes, the whole thing.
At first, I'm pretty sure she's just pissed about there being another vampire…but of course it's so much worse than that.
She looks at him like I look at Jasper, like anyone who shares a soul stares at their other half. Whatever tied her to this Earth before is shifting in front of all of us; awe is etched into her canine features, and Bryn's blue contact clad eyes soften from a glare to a look of curiosity the longer their staring match continues. Whether or not it's a happy moment for the pair, Sam Uley puts a stop to it by tearing her away by the throat.
Leah Clearwater just imprinted on a vampire, and it seems the pack Alpha is less happy than any of us could have guessed. It might be his blood demanding such a savage response, or just his own hatred for the vampires and their cohorts, but he clearly wants her out of the pack. Leah's apparently not very happy with the pack Alpha, and she's fighting him tooth and nail.
It's just as much of a shit show surrounding the duo as it is watching them; Jasper is barely holding back a now livid Bryn, Leah and Sam are a snarling, biting mess on the mossy ground; the other wolves watch, pacing and leering with the occasional growl or howl – all except for Seth, who sits next to me and watches silently with furious and compassionate eyes. It's hard to witness, but this is an internal power struggle; we can't interfere or we risk breaking the treaty, or turning this pissing match into something far more lethal. It's a poor consolation as we watch the larger wolf bat around a girl who just lost her father. It seems Uley is enraged to the point of being completely lost to his bestial nature.
Leah finally manages to shake the larger wolf off, and I'm thankful that shape-shifter blood doesn't do anything for vampires – she's got one hell of a bite mark on her left shoulder. When the first drop of blood lands on the mossy ground there's a subtle shift in the air, a brief moment of pure tension that seems to dissolve before Leah roars into her assailants face. The sound echoes powerfully through the trees, seems to almost bend nature itself to the small wolfs will.
I used to hear stories about this, a long time ago when I was still under the harsh tutelage of a hunter, though I imagine it's different with each group of shape shifters. She's breaking from the pack connection to form her own, and from the looks of how her brother Seth is standing proudly beside her, across from Uley and the other members of the pack, on our side, I'd say he's with her too. Leah looks battered, but even so there's a strength surrounding her that's undeniable.
After all, I'm pretty sure she just became the Alpha of her own pack.
Uley stares her down with blazing black eyes hardened into a vicious stare which he then turns on me. I get everything he's trying to say in that stare; go fuck yourselves and good luck with that war. Frankly, even if this puts us at a slight disadvantage, I'm over the fucking moon about not having to work with him; I'm enough of a hothead for one army. He disappears back into the woods and the rest of the pack follows, save the two Clearwater wolves now looking morosely at each other.
I don't have the chance to make an inappropriate comment on what just transpired; our lives are once again thrown into chaos with the shifting of the wind.
Jazz and I both go shock still as the air is suddenly laden with the intoxicating scent of blood, sweet and viscous and –
"I'm sorry," he looks at me with baleful eyes, gold and red and ashamed, "I can't…her blood is everywhere, Rory."
"How far?" I choose to ignore his sorry for the moment; I know he doesn't like the fact I can feel his bloodlust as clearly as he can. Right now, I could give two fucks about that; I'll focus on that later when things aren't falling apart.
"Back the other way," Bryn supplies, breathing just enough to track the teen, motioning with his arm at the Quileute land, "we can't go with you, not unless you want another war."
My hand is suddenly nudged by something wet, something that gives way to warm coarse fur. Seth looks up at me and then towards Leah and nods towards the forest impatiently. Despite our need to process Leah's imprinting and the dawn of a new pack in Washington, everyone is on high alert. Swan is behind the borderline, bleeding, possibly poisoned and turning as we speak. How is it that I died and she still has less luck?
Jazz and Bryn accompany the wolves and I to the borderline where they grind to a halt; it's probably for the best – I can smell Swan's blood through the connection I share with Jasper, and it's too strong for me to focus on anything else. Whatever's happened, whoever perpetrated the assault, Swan is at this moment most assuredly dying. The Clearwater siblings dive ahead through the foliage as I stop and throw a look over my shoulder.
"Find Al, Liam, Doc, and Maddie and get them to the Cullen's. We've don't have a lot of time," my mate knows exactly what I'm talking about; if I get to Swan in time, even if she is bitten, if I can give her the first mark before she turns we'll at least be able to save her life, for the time being. It has to be enough to stop the change. Hopefully – it's not like I've ever been faced with this situation before and –
'We'll save her, Amory; you'll save her.'
Choking back my panic I hold on to his encouraging thoughts, now fading as I cross the borderline, and dash through the woods towards the smell of blood. Even without feeling Jasper's thirst, now that we're getting closer to ground zero I can smell the copper underlying the soft earth and pine, tainting the still and chill air with fear; my own and I'm sure Swan's.
There's no need to wonder what she's thinking laying on the forest floor bleeding out – I don't have to be Ed or piggybacking on Jaspers empathy to know. I've been there – bitter defeat mocking that you'll never finish the things that desperately needed to be righted. Come hell or high water I'll bring her back, alive – shit, at this point even her becoming a vampire isn't the worst idea. Somewhere along the way she wormed her sarcastic, mousey little way into my heart; now I'm throwing the morality about letting someone become a vampire out the window in order to keep my friend. It's not until I feel the wind hit the tears now pouring down my cheeks that she's so much more than that – whatever I thought of her before our period of desolation together is in the past. The teenager I met when I first got here changed drastically; she was strong enough to ask me to put her through hell and strong enough to stand her ground when the doubt set in. I've never had a partner, not as a hunter, but this…she's my partner, she has potential to be my equal. No, more than that; she's a part of the new family I've constructed and nearly lost in the past year and a half. My sister – in this and our awful taste in romantic partners.
I almost smile at that until I break through the green curtain of pine needles and find myself in a small clearing painted crimson. Leah and Seth are waiting for me by what could be mistaken as a pile of clothes dipped in red paint. Only, there's the tell-tale rise and fall of faint life.
Isabella Swan is breathing, barely and not for long. I rush to her side to survey the damage; it's extensive.
But it's not the work of a vampire.
No bite marks, no scratch marks…Her torso looks shredded and there are cuts marking her entire body. The wounds covering her are similar in pattern to what a combat knife would leave, and there appears to be blunt force trauma from a few hard hits, most prevalent around her face. Half lidded brown eyes, already swelling, dull and dark and surrounded by bruising ghost-white skin shift from being unfocused on the tree-tops to my face as I hover over her.
"Bella! Bella," I move one of her hands from over her abdomen to see just how deeply the cuts go and regret the action when I see more gore ooze forth, "fuck! We don't have time for a hospital. Bella, I'm taking you home, you –"
"Rory," her voice reminds me of the last time I found her like this, after we'd been left, when everything was falling apart…it feels like that's happening all over again when I hear the hoarse whisper. I wave her words away impatiently, aware I'm sobbing desperately as I press my shaking hands to the worst of the wounds to staunch the bleeding. I almost contemplate screaming for Jazz in my head, treaty be damned; I can't doctor this type of wound alone, and moving her could be –
"Rory he…he's…"
Brought out of my racing thoughts by her weakened voice I flick my eyes up to meet hers. She brings the hand that hadn't been clutching her wounds closed to my field of vision, trembling in effort from the small action; caught in her fist is a piece of plain white paper. I can read the large black writing there as clearly as day, even without unfolding the entire note – I know the author too well to have to guess. Fighting back the urge to scream, to completely lose my fucking mind, I take Swan's prone body into my arms and book it back towards Forks. Right now staying here in the open may prove to be more deadly than the mess she's currently sporting. Far more deadly.
Amory…sloppy work with this one; I should have expected this from you, always such a soft-touch, but I had hoped for more. Didn't you learn anything from me? Weakness won't be tolerated – I'll be coming for the rest of that 'family' of yours next. I'll kill them, all of them, except that new leash of yours. I've got plans for him and for you.
You'll lose it all; you have to. I'll be the only one left, the only family you need…just like old times.
John
That son of a bitch.
I'm soaked in vermillion by the time I make it back to the Cullen residence, and luckily Jasper heard me yelling in my head on the way here to get everyone who'll lose their shit over Swan's blood out of the house. I jump the stairs and tear the door complete off its hinges in my rush to get inside. The Doc is there, already grabbing the dying teen out of my arms and laying her on the bare dining room table for him and Maddie to look at.
As he starts to cut the remains of her shirt from her mangled torso, Liam and I start the preparations for marking Swan.
"She's dying – I'm surprised she's still hanging on," I know the news before it leaves Maddie's mouth.
"She's a hunter, of course she's still hanging on," I assert stiffly, taking out my old needle kit, stomach turning as the cherry wood handles flash as red as Swan's blood on the table, "the job's not done, not yet.
"We need to use the Crown, Liam. Walk me through it."
William crosses his arms over his chest and looks momentarily like he's going to refuse. I know why – I was born into this craziness, into this world of what's wrong versus what's less wrong. Swan's had barely more than a year to get this processed. Now she'll have eternity, forced on her by circumstance. His face finally softens, creases easing, before he runs a hand through his short graying hair.
"We'll need Alice's venom; she has to be present during the ritual –"
"With Swan bleeding out everywhere? That's the dumbest idea I've ever –"
"Jasper had to do it for you, Amory. If he kept his control…Well, I'm confident Alice can as well. What other choice is there?"
I look at the girl lying on the table, chest barely rising and falling as Madeline tries her best to staunch the flow of blood from her wounds, "Worst case scenario Al bites her, she becomes a vampire, and hates us for forever, right? No biggie."
Only that isn't the worst case; if I lose her here, lose her because John –
With a hitch in my breath I stop that thought dead in its tracks. I can't think about that now, can't think about how I'm almost positive he's known where I've been this whole time, but now that I'm not dying he want's what's his back. A shudder wracks my body before I bury it under fury.
"Well godddamnit ."
'Jazz, we need Alice! Now!'
There's the briefest of pauses before I hear his slightly panicked voice in my head, 'She's on her way; what's going on?'
'What always goes on in Forks; bullshit.'
"Here we go Swan, let's give you a mark." As I look through the book of old tattoos, putting all of my focus into the sharp lines and soft shading, I talk softly to my young friend, "Which one though? We should have picked this out months ago, fu-"
"Bella," Alice's voice from the front door is soft and shaky; it's obvious by the strain in her voice she's not breathing at all and in complete shock, "oh God."
My eyes meet hers for the briefest of moment; my heart aches for my now estranged pixie friend, but there's no time to waste in being nice, "Al, I know this isn't what you want, but I need your help now."
She nods, her sad eyes landing once again on the woman on the table. Regret shines brightly in them, but she starts to prepare for the ritual with Liam and I get to work on Swan's tattoo.
I don't have time to make it quite as large as mine, which is good because she's got precious little blood left. Refusing to have John be any more party to this than he has I place the small stainless steel bowl the Doc offers and place it under Swan's thin and pale wrist.
"Are you sure about this Amory?" Carlisle asks as I reach up and take a scalpel.
"She was sure. That'll have to be good enough."
One quick slice and more blood dribbles from her wrist into the bowl under it; Alice looks at it with wide eyes and flared nostrils as it flows, and I catch her gaze briefly before I look back at the barely flowing blood. For this ritual, the blood needs to be from a fresh cut – I'm hoping she has enough left to make this count. The room goes quiet, the only sound being the labored breathing of our patient. I'm painfully aware of my shaking hands as I place the half full bowl on the table next to me and Carlisle swoops in to bandage the cut.
Alice looks pensive, morose, "I should have listened to her; I was so focused on the future I had seen that when she changed her mind I got scared, so scared. I…" Dark topaz eyes bright with heartache trace the form of the woman she loves, and I know exactly what she's thinking.
She can't lose her. We can't lose her.
With some amount of distaste I turn the scalpel on myself and watch as my own ichor curves around my wrist and drizzles into the bowl. Not a lot – I watch my skin stitch itself back together, my healing drawing off Jasper's eternal life – and wonder if the reason John was able to find me is because of the small amount of his blood running through my veins. The sheer thought of it makes my skin crawl unpleasantly as I jab my needle into the bowl and hand it to Liam; he mixes our blood together, following a particular pattern. After a half circle here and there with some alchemical runes drawn in between, he hands the small bowl back. I raise the needle from the compound and make my first point of contact.
What should take me hours takes all of twenty minutes – most of the time I'm moving carefully at high speed, trying to balance the slight pressure I need to apply with the furious pace I'm trying to set. It's beautiful; instead of thick red bands of color like mine, delicate lines and runes run down her right arm, overlapping like scales, and meet at a point on the underside of her wrist. The very instant my needle strikes her flesh to make the last connection I feel it; it's nothing like the Crown of Anathema, but I can still feel her become a hunter in some obscure way. The need to protect her I feel in that moment sends me reeling – how had John taken a feeling like this and turned it into something so dark, so wrong? I could never hurt her like he hurt me and the relief that hits me at both the first part at saving Swan and realizing I'm not a complete monster has my vision blurring with tears.
Liam takes the instruments from me and prepares for the next life-changing mark; the crown. I raise a brow at the pair of hair clippers that Maddie reappears with and choke back a macabre laugh.
"Oh, she's going to love this," I glance at Al, "you're going to need to get a wig; the only girly thing Swan cares about is her hair."
The pixie looks glares at me before disappearing into the kitchen for just a moment; her venom is needed, and drooling in front of a room of people isn't really her style.
"Why does she have to be here?" Curiosity finally gets the best of me; it seems a little excessive for her to have to be present during her tattooing – not to mention slightly dangerous. Swan might be immune to her venom now, but if Alice loses control…there's not a whole lot of blood left to drain.
"You know how powerful of a connection this forges," he says, taking the bowl from Alice and placing it underneath Swans tiny wrist – he opens another small cut, and I watch the pixie go still in the corner of the room, almost hidden behind Carlisle just in case, "without the…host, so to speak, being present, it's just another tattoo. When you marked Bella, you felt something, right? It's the same concept on a larger scale; the first mark wouldn't have worked if she'd done it herself."
He fully absorbs himself into mixing the two ingredients together, conversation forgotten; if Swan hadn't been made a hunter first the venom would have curdled her blood almost instantly. With another series of runes – some I recognize, some are so new he has to bend over the ancient leather-bound book of marks we got from the Volturi – Liam completes the mixture and hands me the concoction then holds the book in front of me. When I hesitate to raise the needle from the light red liquid, Madeline scoffs as she finishes buzzing off all of Swan's hair.
"Are you waiting for an invitation Rory? Save her!"
I take a moment to glare at Witchie before I steel myself; I start with Swan's face, occasionally consulting the book but mostly recalling the lines and dots from memory. It takes a bit longer than the first mark since I want to be careful with her face, but I still try to speed through it.
I'm only a few strokes away from facilitating her immortality before her chest goes still. Swan's dead on the Cullen's dining room table, but I keep going. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the telltale glow of Maddie's healing powers at work. It's a tense minute of not knowing whether or not we'll succeed, but Swan finally takes a shallow breath.
A second later I drive my needle under her skin one last time.
Alice lets out a shrill scream and cradles her head in her hands before sinking to the floor, breathing heavily despite having no need to. It's apparently much easier to assimilate thoughts when you're asleep, but vampires don't have that luxury. From Jasper's memories of our joining, Alice is so far handling this much better than he did…there were more than a few things in this house that needed replacing after I was marked with the crown. Luckily, Swan's had a much more normal and happy life than I've had, but there are still memories that are hard to relive so vividly, things that take time to come to terms with.
"This is so cool," Maddie says dreamily, and I turn my attention back to Swan to see what's so cool about my bloodstained friend.
All the cut's marking her body are all slowly stitching themselves back together; watching it happen to myself is one thing, but this really is cool. They're all healed in a half minute leaving behind a spider web of scars – another unfortunate reminder of John. The thought of my grandfather gets me more agitated by the moment – he knows we're here, could come through the door at any moment…
"Let's get her cleaned up; we've got a lot to talk about and I'm sure everyone would like to come home," Maddie seems to be picking up the Professors mind reading skills, and I'm thankful it breaks up the group huddled around the table. Alice, still shaken and coming to terms with sharing thoughts with Swan, manages to stand next to me and grab the teens hand gently.
"Sorry it had to come to this, Al," the wariness I feel leaks through in my voice – right now I want nothing more than to wrap myself in the comfort of Jasper's arms – but there's still too much to do for me to feel tired, "I'll get her cleaned up."
The pixie doesn't look at me for a minute and I'm sure she's going to tell me she hates me, hates what I've done, but her face finally cracks into a smile – small and unsure, but still all Alice, "You're right – she's going to hate us for ruining her hair…I'll take care of her, Rory. Go see Jasper."
I don't have to be told twice; I leave the house in nearly as much of a hurry as I entered with. I'll worry about replacing that damn door later.
Then the real problem hits me: How the fuck are we gonna explain this to the Chief?
(A/N: So sorry it took me so long to update, but hey, life gets in the way; it should know that all I want to do is write, though! Thank you all so much for sticking with me, even as I take my sweet ass time getting this out! This was originally two chapters, but I felt guilty for being absent so you get one a bit longer than average! I'm trying to get ahead of myself a few chapters (trying being the keyword here hah) so this lull in updating doesn't happen too often. As always, lovely viewers, you are all awesome and much appreciated, and once again I'm sorry for the wait; hopefully it was worth it!)