15. ALONE
"SO..." I HESITATED, NOT KNOWING QUITE HOW TO ASK. TRUTHFULLY I was almost scared to ask. If the answer was no...
"Spit it out, Jazz. You've been mumbling leading questions all day! What do you want to know?" Alice turned on me, frowning. She was folding one of her many expensive, chic tops to put into the large wooden dresser of drawers -- more for something to do inside this tiny little room than for actual convenience, I guessed. But who knew? Alice was very protective about her clothes.
"Well, I..." I mumbled again, studying my bare feet on the rough wooden floor. If I didn't have rock-hard skin I would never walk around on this floor barefoot -- I'd be one big walking splinter by now. Alice sighed meaningfully and rolled her eyes. I took a deep breath and asked my question speedily, the words tumbling out in a flurry. "Do you see Kristalene coming back to Forks with us? Living with us? Staying..."
I couldn't meet her gaze. I knew I had let my imagination run away with me, I knew I had no right to hope that this child would leave her only family and come and be with me. I knew, and yet, I wanted it so badly. I almost couldn't bear to hear Alice's answer. Maybe not knowing was better. At least then I had hope.
Finally I raised my eyes to see Alice's expression had softened. She was looking at me kindly, empathetically. She knew how much I wanted this.
"I looked," she said softly, stepping across the floor on her tiptoes as though she were clad in invisible ballet slippers. She rested her hand softly on my arm. I looked down again. This didn't seem like a good sign. It seemed like she was trying to let me down easy. "She might. The vision keeps changing. I see her with us in New Hampshire, in the woods, in the living room of the new house with Carlisle and Esme and Em and Rose. We're all laughing, happy. But it's hazy. I see her in a house with a woman, I assume Anya, and the four of us are all sitting around the table talking. The trees out the window look different -- I don't think it's here. But I also see her in Viselkeizedevia, in this inn, walking the streets. I see her at a church bent over a casket, over an old woman -- again, I think it's her sister. She just hasn't decided anything." She paused a moment, "Nor have we, really."
My head jerked back up at that. Hadn't we? When I thought about it, I guess I hadn't ever actually talked to Alice about the child, about what I wanted.
"Don't --" I hesitated again. It wasn't good to want something so much. I was just setting myself up for disappointment. "Don't you want her to come with us?"
Alice pressed me toward the bed. I sank down onto it, the springs squeaking in protest at my weight. She sat lightly on my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. She was biting her bottom lip -- another bad sign -- and she seemed to choose her words very carefully.
"I do..." she started. I frowned and glared at my hands. Alice touched my chin and pulled my face back up, "I do, Jasper. Of course I do. But we have to think about her. I don't think she would ever leave Anya, not while she's alive anyway. It's possible in forty or fifty years--"
I huffed in frustration. I may have lived a century and a half, but waiting forty or fifty years for the little "family" I had envisioned seemed like an eternity.
"Anya could come too," I muttered defiantly.
"True. And maybe she will. But there's something else we need to consider."
I glared into her perfect porcelain face. I was tired of her "no"s. I didn't want to hear any more reasons why this wouldn't work.
Alice sighed, "Jazz, right now she's safe. No one knows about this town, not the rest of the world ... not the Volturi." My fists clenched involuntarily as what she was saying sank in. "She broke the law," Alice whispered, "She told everyone what she was. If the Volturi found out about her, found out what she did, not only would they kill her--"
"They'd massacre every human in Viselkeizedevia," I finished darkly. Alice was right. I didn't want to agree with her, though. "But she didn't tell them she was a vampire," I argued stubbornly. Alice shook her head.
"Jazz, you know that won't matter. They'll kill first and ask questions later. We can't take that risk."
"Well why should they ever know?" I growled, but I knew the answer.
"The Cullens are Public Enemy Number One to the Volturi. It's only a matter of time before they come to check up on us again, and when they do Aro will know. You know he will."
"We could hide her," I fought on doggedly. I knew Alice was right, and I knew this plan would not work either, but I didn't want to give up. There just had to be a way. Some way...
"Aro would know what we'd done. And do you really want to make her live like that? A fugitive? I love her too, Jazz, but she's safer right where she is."
I hadn't realized it until Alice voiced the word, but I did love her. Just as I had been drawn to Alice, felt some unexplainable force pulling me toward her, telling me I would rather die than allow her pain, so I felt it for Kristalene now. I loved her. I could feel that I had changed, that a part of me was different now. And that difference was permanent. It was forever.
She was so innocent, this angelic child, so kind, so brave and strong -- and somehow so fragile. There was so much she didn't know about the evils of the world, about the dangers and cruelty. Was I really so eager to expose her to that? Could I do that to her for my own selfish desires?
I slumped on the bed. Alice knew I was giving up and she held me tightly, running her fingers soothingly through my tousled curls.
"She's perfect," I breathed sadly, almost inaudibly.
"I know," Alice whispered back. She sounded like she were crying -- her voice shook with restrained emotion. I could tell she wanted this as badly as I did. "But if we really love her, we'll do what's best for her. And I think what's best is for her to stay here, stay safe, stay a secret."
I closed my eyes and saw my beautiful vision slipping away from me, being pulled into the darkness of never-to-be. I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying to shut out the fading image, shut out the sadness. It might be ridiculous, but I felt as if I had lost a child, lost an entire future I had wanted so badly... so badly...
We sat on the bed in silence for a long while, hours maybe. Long enough for the midday sun to change its position in the sky and for the full, white sphere of the moon to show itself against the powdery blue backdrop of the atmosphere. I watched the moon as it inched higher and higher, turning the heavens darker and darker with its ascent. I wondered vaguely whether there was some special, astronomical name for the moon when it could be seen during the day. I bet there was. I bet Edward would know it.
It was an odd dichotomy, that daylight moon. It was a child of the night, like me, meant only to show itself in the darkness. And yet, stubbornly, defiantly, it rose every so often and crept into the daylight world where it was not welcome, not expected. It was brave, I decided, the moon. Brave to stand up tall and shout to the sun, "I'm here! I won't hide in the shadows! I will live as I choose, and I am here."
I shook my head imperceptibly. The moon was not brave. It was a dead chunk of rock orbiting life. Maybe that was a more accurate metaphor. Always on the outside, always longing for something it could never have, could never be...
I shook my head harder this time. Alice noticed and watched me warily, worriedly. The moon was just the moon, and I needed to stop trying to find poetic meaning in celestial bodies. It was science. It simply was.
"So ... there's no hope, then?" I barely breathed, barely able to push enough air into the words to make them audible. I wanted this so much, but if Alice didn't see it happening, how good could the odds be? Why torture myself?
Alice hesitated.
"There is..." My eyes shot to her face warily. I could tell she didn't want to get my hopes up. "Like I said, in forty or fifty years, when Anya's dead, I don't think there'll be anything holding her here anymore. It's very hazy, very uncertain, but by then most the people who knew her and her secret will be dead too. If we waited -- if we waited until then, I think she would come to us --"
"--and there would be no reason for the Volturi to be upset," I finished, my chest expanding with the hope. I tried to check it -- this was only a possibility, after all. Definitely not a certainty. Still, I couldn't help ... hoping. Why not? I asked myself. If her sister were no longer alive, if everyone she knew and loved had lived their human lives and were no longer around, why wouldn't she want to come live with us? We could offer her everything she had missed out on here -- an immortal family, immortal love and friendship, education, culture ... cable T.V. ...
And though the Volturi might be upset that she had exposed that she was different to humans, surely we could convince them that she had done no real harm. No one outside this tiny village knew anything about her, and all that she would leave behind here were stories and legends. Marcus, Caius, and Aro had done as much centuries ago, when people actually believed in vampires. Surely the whispered tales of a strange girl that never aged in a forgotten town in Belarus would not affect anyone's way of life, would pose no threat to our kind. I knew Caius would put up a fight, another ridiculous trumped up charge to try to provoke the Cullens to battle -- and I was willing to go to battle for Kristalene. I paused a moment to consider whether I could ask the rest of my family to fight for her. Perhaps I shouldn't -- it was a lot to ask -- but I knew even before I finished thinking the question that I would. I absolutely would call on my parents and brothers and sisters to defend this child, to protect her. Just as instantly as I knew my answer I also knew that I wouldn't even have to ask. Every member of my family would fight to defend what I loved, just as surely as I would fight to defend what they loved. It might take some strategizing and some convincing, but I knew Edward, Bella, Emmett, Carlisle, Esme, and even Rosalie and Jacob would fight with me, if for no other reason than to protect me and Alice. I wondered hesitantly about Renesmee. Renesmee was our Achilles heel. None of us would readily pull her into a fight.
But, odds were if the Volturi were coming, they'd be after Renesmee too -- and Alice and Edward and Bella and maybe me -- so really all our fates were twined together, all resting on resisting and defending against a Volturi attack.
I hoped, though, that with Carlisle's cool head and Edward's helpful mind-reading, actual combat could be avoided. Emmett and I would like nothing better than our chance to face off against Dimitri and Felix and the rest of the fighters, but I knew neither of us wanted it enough to risk Rose or Alice for it. Surely if we could talk the Volturi out of a fight when they were dead set on wiping us out, we could talk them out of it now. Of course, now they were a little older and wiser, now I was certain they'd have new clever strategies in place, but then, so would we. And we were talking about decades into the future. The wolf pack would be seasoned and well-trained, Bella got more powerful every day, and what plans I could make with forty or fifty years to lay them!
No, I wasn't too worried. It could work out. I just had to wait. I just had to be patient. Forty or fifty years, then. Forty or fifty years. I thought about all that could happen in that time, all I could do to prepare for Kristalene's inclusion into our family. Time wasn't such a bad thing, really, not when you had unlimited amounts of it. Time gave you options. What was time to an immortal? I sat noiselessly on the bed, contemplating the next four or five decades. Alice sat with me, watching me apprehensively, for once not seeming sure what I was thinking. I probably should have set her mind at ease, but I didn't want to get my hopes up too high. Admitting aloud that I was planning Kristalene's future in our family, avoiding or planning for another war with the Volturi to do it, considering where she would live and what she would call Carlisle and Esme and what our cover story would be for her adoption all made it too real, too concrete -- too clear how much I was hoping. And as Alice had pointed out, the future was hazy, by no means secure. I shouldn't hope. I shouldn't ... but I did.
Alice watched me anxiously until I pulled myself together enough to manage a forced smile. She knew I was still troubled, but she didn't ask me to explain. She knew me too well for that. I would talk about it when I was ready. She kissed my cheek softly then rested her head against my chest for a short moment. I didn't relax -- there was just too much still to consider.
She seemed to understand my tension, as she usually did, and she rose from the bed to give me what privacy she could. Unless we wanted to try to sneak out the window (which would not have been difficult were it not for the frequent enterings and exitings of the various inn patrons, which, I assumed, was basically every inhabitant of the town; whether this was their usual routine or whether they were all hoping to catch a glimpse of the "outsiders," I couldn't be sure), we were both stuck inside this tiny room for the next hour or so until twilight descended.
Alice turned to the sparse furniture and again began arranging and rearranging things to her liking. She moved the lamp to the far right edge of the dresser, then replaced it where she had moved it earlier in the center of the bureau. She picked up the pale green ashtray and set it next to the phone. She danced back a step to observe the arrangement, then lifted the ashtray again, ready to replace it a few inches over. I wasn't paying much attention to her redecorating, wallowing in self-pity and loss as I was, so I nearly jumped through the wooden ceiling beams when I heard the shattering of glass. Alice had dropped the ashtray and it had smashed into a hundred chunks and shards of green glass, scattering over the oaken floor. I stared at her, frozen in alarm. Only the most unexpected and horrific visions could immobilize Alice so completely, demand her focus enough to cause her to drop something fragile, no matter how inconsequential. The last time I had seen her react this way was nearly seven years ago when she had seen Irina go to the Volturi and turn us in, seen the Volturi mobilize and come for us, eradication in their hearts.
The soldier in me started to take control, the "on" switch began to click over. If the Volturi were coming, I would be ready for them. They would not lay a finger on Alice or Kristalene. Even if I had to die to do it, I would get them out safely.
"Something's wrong," Alice mouthed, barely a whisper.
"What is it?" I asked through clenched teeth in a voice as hard as steel, though I already knew the answer.
"Kristalene," Alice breathed again, her eyes still unfocused and not a muscle other than her lips moving. I tensed further still. They would not harm the child I loved.
"Where is she?" I growled.
"In the woods. I think she decided to practice hunting alone. But--" she cut off with a pained intake of breath, as though the words were too awful to speak. She looked at me frantically, terrified.
"How many?" I growled again. Not that it mattered. If the whole damn Volturi guard was there I would fight. I would save her. Alice blinked rapidly, confused by my question. "How many, Alice?" I repeated.
"I -- I don't know. It's not ... it's not our kind. It's not vampires."
I stared at her blankly. Not vampires? Not the Volturi? Could it be a trick? Another new recruit that could block the guard from Alice's sight? I didn't see how that was possible, but really it didn't matter. Whoever it was that was putting the child in danger, they were going to die. They would not harm her.
I grabbed Alice around the waist and, too furious and desperate to bother opening it, launched our bodies through the window, shattering the glass and the wooden frame. I was sure the innkeeper and the patrons would hear it, but we had hit the ground and disappeared into the trees before the sound could even register. In one swift movement, taking no more than a one-hundredth of a second, I set Alice on the ground and continued sprinting headlong into the woods, not breaking my stride.
"Where?" I called to Alice as the wind and gnarled trunks flew by us.
"To the east," she answered, almost keeping up with me. She must be truly terrified -- I'd never seen her run so fast. The knot in my stomach that had begun to twist and tighten at the sound of the shattering ashtray lurched and seemed to beat at my abdomen, like a frantic heartbeat.
"What did you see?" I demanded as we raced through the trees toward the east, more flying than running, our feet barely touching the ground.
"She went hunting. And then -- then something happened, or will happen, I can't tell. It must be something we've never encountered -- I can't see it. Like Jacob and the other wolves, like Renesmee. It's just not there. But Kristalene is hurt, she's --" Alice seemed unable to finish. My stomach beat against my stone skin as though it were trying to break out. It felt as heavy as a granite boulder. No! I shouted in my head. Not her! No! I used every ounce of power I had and ran faster.
Finally I caught her scent. She had gone deep into the woods for her hunt, and she must have entered from a different direction. I began to scan the woods frantically for some sign of her, some sign of the danger that threatened her. I felt the robot start to take over, the strategizing, the military tactics. Assess the danger, figure out what you were up against. Emotions did you no good. Block them out. Listen, look, smell. Where were they? What were they?
Finally I picked up a faint scent of something strange, something foreign but vaguely familiar. It wasn't a pleasant smell, and I associated it with a fight and caution, but not necessarily with danger. What was it? I couldn't quite place it...
The strange smell grew stronger as Kristalene's scent intensified. I looked again, around and around. Where was she? Was I going too fast? Had I missed her? My mind was whirling with so many questions, so much anxiety, I wouldn't be surprised if I tripped over her.
"Jasper!" Alice cried as though she had been shot, a sudden shriek of pain. I whirled to a halt, almost slipping with the abrupt change of direction on the leaf-strewn ground.
And there she was. Lying in the crevice between two small boulders, almost invisible except for a scuffed path of dirt and leaves and ... blood ... where she had dragged herself to this spot. I had never seen a vampire bleed before. We had no blood of our own. The scent of it was strong, though, and it smelled much like the wolf blood from the night before. It must be just that, I realized. If her stomach had been opened...
I was at her side in an instant, moving her hands where they clutched at her middle to assess her injuries. The strange scent was so strong here, I could hardly pick out Kristalene's scent from it. I could tell now there was another odd smell mixed with the odor of the animal blood. What was it?
"Kristalene," I swallowed. I tried to achieve that reassuring tone of certainty and professionalism Carlisle had when he spoke to patients. It was difficult to keep my composure though. She didn't want to move her hands. She was doubled over in pain, shaking and spasming, breathing in short, shallow gasps. I gripped her hands tightly and pulled them away. I had to see what was wrong. And then Alice screamed.
I choked as my breath caught in my throat. Her belly was torn open, her insides exposed, covered in red wolf blood. I could see her intestines, the layers of her skin and muscle. Even as a soldier I had not witnessed such an injury. How could this be possible? The only thing that could tear our skin like this was vampire teeth, and there were certainly no vampires, other than us, here. I smelled nothing but that odd strange-yet-familiar scent. I gritted my teeth together and released Kristalene's hands. She clutched them back to her stomach. Why wasn't her skin sealing up again? Even if an arm or a leg was ripped from our body, it would reattach itself in moments. I didn't understand.
I quickly tore the gray sweater from my body and bundled it up, pulling her hands aside again to press it to the wound. I wasn't sure if this would help -- surely we weren't worried about loss of blood -- but I couldn't think what else to do.
"Jasper," Alice whispered in a strangled voice. I looked to see her staring at Kristalene's leg. In the light of the obvious stomach wound I hadn't noticed the rest of her body. I gasped in horror as I saw the mangled flesh of her left leg. Huge gaping gashes ran up and down the length of the limb, from thigh to calf. It looked like a flesh and bone scratching post.
I quickly looked over her entire body, checking for any other injuries. Her face was gaunt and even paler than usual, and there were some minor scratches on her forehead and left cheek, but other than that it was undamaged. Her hands and right forearm, though, so covered in blood it was difficult to see at first, were mangled and torn like her leg.
"Kristalene," I gasped. I swallowed hard and gritted my teeth. We needed to know, "What happened? Who did this to you? What did this to you?"
She only stared at me, her eyes unfocused, sucking in jagged gulps of air, jerking with pain. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what had happened.
I looked helplessly at Alice, who was hovering over the child, apparently just as lost as I was.
"Carlisle?" I asked her in a rushed whisper. She didn't answer but pulled the small silver cell phone from her pocket and dialed the number in a flash. I heard her panic-stricken voice racing through the emergency so agitated with emotion I wondered if Carlisle could understand her.
"I ... don't ... know," she sucked in breaths between each word as though she were sobbing. She listened to whatever Carlisle was saying, nodding and looking at Kristalene, then at the immediate surroundings, then back at Kristalene.
"Yes. Stay by the phone," she ordered and clicked the tiny phone shut. "Carlisle says the only things that could do this are vampires and..." I waited, "... and werewolves."
"Werewolves?" My voice was high with shock. I felt Kristalene's terror spike at the word. My eyes flew to her face. "Was that it? Was it a werewolf?"
Again, she didn't respond. She just lay there spasming and gasping, staring at me with horrified eyes, as though begging me to stop the pain, to save her. It was torture! I didn't know what to do for her, how to ease her pain. What were we supposed to do? And werewolves? Did such creatures actually still exist? Were they here? Was that the almost-familiar scent I had smelled, familiar because it was similar to the Quileute's mongrel stench? I couldn't worry about that now. I actually didn't much care.
"What do we do?" I demanded. I felt Alice's anguish.
"He ... he says werewolves have venom, like we do. If they bite a human they will turn them, just like us, but if they bite a vampire..." She looked at me pleadingly, as though begging me not to make her finish. "We can try to suck it out like Edward did with Bella. But..." she looked at me helplessly again.
"No!" I yelled, turning to the piteous child before me. Her spasms suddenly began to slow, rolling through her body less frequently but each more powerfully than the last. I felt the panic in my chest, threatening to overtake me, to shut me down. I pushed it back inside. I would save her. I pulled her bloody hands away from her torso again and the panic jumped back into my chest. Where did I start? This wasn't some small three-inch bite we were talking about, like it had been with Bella. This was the entire middle of her body!
"Get her leg!" I yelled to Alice and I bent my head down to Kristalene's body. I was disgusted, but the reaction barely registered. Nor did the usually enticing taste of the wolf blood as my mouth touched the gash across the top of the wound. Would this work? How could it? I sucked at the wound, tasting the blood and the vampire skin and the venom, like a stinging, numbing, acid. Part of my mind registered that this venom must be the strange scent mingled with the blood. I sucked and spit, sucked and spit, the way you were supposed to with a rattlesnake bite. I didn't know if it was doing any good. Maybe if I got the venom out her body would be able to repair itself. It must be the venom that was keeping the wounds from closing, the skin from reattaching. Suck and spit, suck and spit. I could hear Alice doing the same. I pressed the panic down again and again. Suck and spit, suck and spit. This couldn't happen. It couldn't! This amazing, brave, beautiful, perfect child could not die, could not die like this! She couldn't! No god anywhere could let this happen! Where was her God when she needed Him? What good were all her Sundays and prayers and pleadings for forgiveness if He was going to let her die like this? No, she wouldn't die. I wouldn't let her.
A sudden scream ripped through the cold forest air and Alice and I both froze in utter pain and terror. Kristalene screamed again and again, writhing in agony. Alice moved to touch her, then reached her hand back, then moved again, her fingers trembling. She just didn't know what to do. Kristalene's eyes shut now and she gurgled a muffled scream twisting and turning, panting. It was excruciating! I just couldn't do anything for her. What could I do? What?
"No!" I shouted again and turned back to the wound. It didn't look any smaller. I wasn't doing any good. Suck and spit, suck and spit.
An idea occurred to me then. Vampire venom repaired human bodies when they were broken. Our venom was merely very painful when one was already a vampire, but maybe the werwolf venom in her system was somehow weakening the vampire venom, warring with it. If I gave her more vampire venom, maybe then it could win out, overcome the werewolf.
I bent my head to her chest, just above her heart. I took a deep breath and bit deeply into her skin. She didn't even flinch at the new wound, which was good. I couldn't have endured the thought that I had caused her more pain. I bit her chest again and again, trying to press as much venom into the wounds as I could. I lifted her right hand and bit her wrist, then her left wrist. I bit at her throat, at her jugular. Then I went back to sucking and spitting.
I felt the spasms lessening more and more, the tremors and gasps becoming fainter. Was this good? Did this mean she was getting better? I looked at her stomach and leg. My throat closed as the panic rose, clawing its way out up my chest. They were exactly the same. She looked no different.
My mind rejected what I was seeing, what I knew. Kristalene's breathing was slowing, coming in short shallow gasps, like a fish on land, sucking in its dying breaths. Her body ceased it's jerking. She was becoming still. She was fading.
"Jasper," Alice choked in an agonized whisper. I ignored her and went back to sucking and spitting, sucking and spitting. I could hardly taste the werewolf venom now. Surely that meant something. Surely she could get better now, her body could close these horrific wounds.
"Jasper," Alice repeated, tugging on my bare arm now. Still I ignored her. What could she want? Why wasn't she doing her part, cleaning the venom from the child's leg or arm? "Jazz," Alice said again, her voice shaking. She tugged on my arm harder this time. Suck and spit, suck and spit. "Jazz, I think ... I think she's gone, love. She's gone."
Her words didn't register. What was she talking about? Vampires didn't die like this! The only way to kill them was to rip them apart and burn the pieces. Kristalene was still here, still intact. She would heal. We just had to get the foreign venom out of her system so the vampire venom could do its work. We just had to--
"Jasper!" Alice yelled, shoving against my chest with all her tiny might. I glared at her, furious that she wasn't helping me, that she wasn't doing all she could. "Jasper, look at her! She's gone, Jazz! She's gone!"
I looked at the angel child on the ground in front of me; the sweet, brave, enchanting girl that had won over an entire superstitious town of humans, won over my suspicious heart. The child I loved. She lay there, still, no longer spasming or jerking. No longer panting or screaming. She was just still. Her bloodied hands lay lifeless at her sides, her beautiful striking eyes, so like Alice's, stared blindly into the forest.
My mind refused to register what I was seeing, what Alice was saying. I waited dumbly for her to move, for her skin to begin sealing, for her to rise to her feet shaken but undamaged.
Alice was bent over the ashen form, shaking and gasping with sobs that racked her body but could not be cried. She rocked back and forth on her knees, crying something to herself unintelligibly. My mind was stopped, on a loop, replaying the scene in front of me over and over, but moving on to nothing new. It rejected the reality that I knew would break my dead heart.
Then I froze. This was the only noise that could have pulled me from the stutter my mind was stuck in. A long piercing howl ripped through the night, freezing my already ice-cold skin. And then the red set in. Everything was washed with a bloody tinge, burning, scorching. Before the howl had even died on the wind I was on my feet, taking off in the direction of the noise. I heard Alice cry something behind me, but I didn't wait -- or care -- to hear what it was. I raced off toward the monster that had taken my child from me. Taken my future.
Another bay rent the cold air, louder, more piercing, more communicative than that of a normal wolf. It seemed to me to be a victory cry. The white-hot rage seared my skin again. I propelled myself through the woods at breakneck speed; I doubted even Edward could catch me. That sickly dog smell invaded my awareness, but it was just what I wanted. Just what I was looking for. It was a dirtier scent than that of Jacob and the Quilieute wolves, somehow mangier, rotten. Like aged meat and earth mixed with wet mutt.
And then I slowed. A hundred yards away, perched upon a sheer granite cliff, stood what I was hunting. I had never seen a true werewolf before. The few stories I had heard about them portrayed them mostly as pitiful, instinct-driven creatures, hunted into near-extinction by the Volturi. I had always felt almost sorry for them. I knew Caius had nearly lost a fight with one. I knew the few remaining wolves cowered in remote areas of Europe, trying to evade detection. I knew the full moon brought on their transformation and that a human, once bitten, turned into a werewolf, just as they turned to vampires when we bit them. I had the impression the situation was very similar -- very few humans survived werewolf bites, either because they became food or because the transformation was just more than their frail bodies could handle. I had heard nothing of what the creatures looked like, either as humans or as animals.
In comparison to the Quilieute wolves, this beast was rather small. Jacob and Sam were the size of large horses, their massive frames undulated with sinuous muscle and thick fur. You could tell they were powerful, but they had always seemed like children to me, pups. Not a threat unless you didn't watch your back. I knew I could take any one of the wolf pack, possibly even together.
This creature was smaller than the "shapeshifter" wolves, but still much larger than any normal wolf. It was nearly five feet tall and a good eight or nine feet from snout to tail. Though he wasn't as big, he seemed more dangerous somehow. Like a hungry, rabid, wild dog -- where the Quileute's were big slobbering St. Bernards. He was wiry but thickly muscled, his silvery-black fur matted and grungy, peppered with leaves and bracken. As a human I imagined him as a homeless man.
He looked straight at the spot where I would emerge from the trees, his eyes intelligent and almost ... wickedly excited. He was excited. I could feel it. I had never been able to feel the emotions of an animal before -- I thought at times I could faintly sense Jacob and the pack's feelings when they were in wolf form, but it was difficult to tell -- but this creature's feelings were almost crystal clear. He was gleeful. It was almost as if he wanted this fight, like he had sought it. His lips curled over his yellowed razor fangs in a cruel grin. He growled, low and guttural ... inviting. Inviting me to attack. The red flashed in front of my eyes again and fury scorched every inch of my body. A feral snarl wrenched from my chest and I walked now, smoothly, stalking, closer to the monster that had taken my Kristalene, my future.
He was above me on the rock wall, maybe twenty-five feet up; an advantageous position. But not for long. With a sudden crouch and a powerful thrust of my legs I launched myself high into the air, landing noiselessly on the rock thirty feet from him. He watched my ascent, turning his head warily, but not afraid. Not yet.
He licked his lips and I wondered if this was intentional, a provocation. I snarled again, my white teeth glinting in the light of the full pale moon. The scene around me was all grays and blacks and muted greens, leeched colorless by the moon.
"Was it you?" I growled, my jaw clenched, my hands balled into tight fists of rage at my sides. My bare stone chest and feet seemed to glow in the moonlight.
He looked me straight in the eye, his lips curving into that wicked grin again. He barked three short choking noises, but I knew they were a laugh. I nodded. He had chosen his fate willingly, purposely even.
I sank into a crouch, preparing to strike. The creature did the same. I could feel his anticipation. He wanted this, he had planned it. I almost choked on the sudden gasp of air as I realized what his emotions meant. He had planned this. He had murdered that innocent, helpless child to get at us, at me. He had killed Kristalene to provoke me to fight. My eyes narrowed and a bellow of pure rage tore through the tense cold air. I didn't care why he had done it, why he wanted this fight. I would give it to him. It was here.
I began feinting to the right, slowly, one foot over the other. He moved in response. Slowly, slowly, his back was to the edge of the rock cliff. It was not a long drop to the ground, not enough to kill him, but I would take any advantage. I was sure he needed to breathe. If the air was knocked out of him, it would take him a second to recover. That would be all I needed. I feinted swiftly to the left and then, as he moved to compensate, I launched myself with the power of a Mack truck straight at his formidable mass.
With a growl of protest he fell back, jaws snapping at my face, as we fell out through the darkness, out into the night. I held my forearm to his chest, pushing him away, keeping his teeth from my skin. We hit the ground with a thud that shook the earth, leaving a shallow dent in the dirt. The creature had landed on his side and not his back as I had hoped. There was a slight "whoosh" of air, but he didn't seemed deterred. He wriggled out from under me and turned in a flash, jumping at my throat. I dove to the left, narrowly escaping his fangs. I caught one good scratch down his right flank as he passed by, though, cutting a long, but shallow, gash into his side. He howled in fury and turned again, growling louder and more menacingly than before. I smiled viciously at him and cocked my head, beckoning him forward. This was what I remembered; it was easy to slip into the role of the soldier, the warrior. That is what I was, after all. Once it had been all that I was. I remembered hundreds, maybe thousands of enemies, hundreds of battles. They had all tried. They had all attacked -- scratched and torn and grasped and bitten. None of them had succeeded. None of them had triumphed. In the end, none of them had survived. This sadistic scheming monster would be no different. I smiled broader, taunting him, inviting him to let down his guard and make a mistake.
With another snarl of rage he sprang at me again, this time clipping my shoulder as I shot out of the way. His claws cut me, but there was little pain. Apparently only his fangs were venomous. I growled in anger, annoyed that I had let him get any strike in, no matter how insignificant, but I whirled so quickly I caught the tip of his tail as he landed and, with a jerk of steel muscle, I slammed his body against the stone wall. He hit it hard and a shower of debris scattered around us, but he was on his feet again in a second, snarling and snapping.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" I goaded, grinning wickedly and circling him. "Isn't this what you came for?"
He growled again, the force of the sound resonating in my chest. He mirrored my circles in a low crouch. I focused on his throat, his underbelly. Both would be kill-strikes, but the belly would be safer, keep me away from his venomous fangs. And it would be justice, I thought with a stab of pain and vengeance. I tensed, preparing to launch myself again and knock him onto his back with the force of my collision.
Then I heard it. The worst sound in the world -- the worst sound imaginable in this moment. The chink in my armor. My weakness.
"Jasper!" Alice shrieked, her tiny form breaking through the trees into the clearing not a hundred yards away. I could feel the wolf's fury brighten to malicious glee again. He knew what she was. He knew she would be my downfall.
"Alice, get out of here!" I bellowed, trying to maneuver myself between the monster and the only reason for existence I had left. "Go!" I yelled. But it was too late. The creature saw his way, saw his path to victory. He darted around me in a tight arc, racing past me and bearing down on Alice with the speed of a bullet.
"No!" I screeched, tearing full tilt toward Alice. It was such a short distance. I had to make it there first. I had to!
I slammed into Alice with the force of a rockslide, but I felt nothing but relief as she flew backward into the trees. I hoped she would listen to me and run, get out of here. I had no time to see if she did or not. No sooner had I shoved her out of the way than the wolf slammed into me, knocking me to the ground. He had the advantage now, had me pinned to the floor. I pushed against his massive shoulders, trying to hold back his snapping jaws, his dripping fangs. He was strong, though, stronger than I would have imagined. I could feel his teeth inching closer and closer to my throat. His breath was hot and rancid, like rotting meat. I could smell Kristalene's wolf blood on his muzzle. The smell locked my jaw and muscles, coursing new strength through my body.
The creature bore down on me, pressing his weight, snarling and snapping, moving every second closer to my skin. I held onto the pain, the fury, the flash of blood red that colored my sight. I pooled it, felt it gathering in my muscles, preparing to erupt. Then, with a move like lightning, I called on all that strength and with an explosion like a powder keg I propelled the wolf off of me with my hands and feet.
I used the momentum to jump to my feet in the same movement, and, as the wolf flew through the air, before he could land, I reached out and dug my hands into his soft underbelly. I shoved through the skin and muscle and grabbed ahold of his insides, tearing them back out as he landed on the ground with a thud and a wail of pain and shock. He lurched, trying to get to his feet, blood pouring from the wound like a sieve. Part of me wanted to laugh. Part of me wanted to cackle with vengeful delight at his tortuous, painful death. But I didn't. I felt no pity for the creature, but the scene before me was too similar to Kristalene's death -- the blood, the intestines, the howls of agony. I stalked toward him slowly, ready to end it. He might deserve to suffer, but I couldn't stand the sight of him. I wanted him dead. I wanted him gone from this life.
I knelt by his side as he continued to lurch and jerk, his feet unable to find purchase in the dirt. I tossed the handful of his innards to the ground in front of him. His eyes followed the bloody mess, wide with incredulity. Grabbing a thick fistful of fur tightly at the scruff of his neck, I yanked his head up roughly until my lips were at his ear.
"This is what you wanted," I snarled in a low, vicious whisper, "This is a better death than you deserve. I should tear you apart, piece by piece. I should paint this valley with your blood and listen as you howl out for mercy, laughing when I grant you nothing. Give you only more pain. You took the life of an innocent. You deserve so much, so much more."
A strange strangled gurgle escaped his throat. I met his eyes so he would see the end coming, so I could see the life leave his eyes. He seemed afraid, but still defiant somehow. As though he didn't think the war was quite over. I smiled cruelly. Oh, it was over. Right. Now--
"Jasper!" Several things happened in the split second I looked up at Alice's frightened voice. I saw my little angel emerge from the trees again, looking terrified but no worse for the powerful thrust I had given her into who-knows-what. I saw her mouth form into a perfect "o" and her expression distort into one of horror. I heard the defiant scream rip its way from her chest. And I felt an intense, searing agony rip down the right side of my throat.