16. GONE
WITH A START I REALIZED THE FISTFUL OF FUR I WAS HOLDING IN MY hand was strained forward. The creature had used my instant of distraction to summon up what strength he had left and bite. I felt the venom flash through my veins, boiling whatever ran through them, burning me alive. I let go of the wolf and fell back, my feet in front of me, slumping as I tried to comprehend what was happening. My vision started to blur, my eyes stinging and blazing. In my cloudy sight I thought I saw Alice at the wolf's head. I tried to scream to her to stay away, to get back -- that monster would not hurt her too -- but the words wouldn't come. My brain was baking in the fire of the venom, and my body wouldn't work. I saw Alice's head jerk back, away from the wolf. I heard a gurgle of pain, of life draining away. I couldn't make sense of it.
And then Alice was there. She had her arms around my shoulders and she was cradling my head against her thin chest. Her exquisite angel's face danced in and out of focus. She looked so terrified, so utterly panic-stricken. I wanted to tell her not to worry, that she'd be all right, but I couldn't form the words even in my own head. The fire was blazing through every muscle in my body, every fiber. I remembered the fire of my transformation from human to vampire, the most unendurable pain I had ever felt. This was worse. A thousand different sensations of burning, charring, searing pain. I felt my limbs begin to jerk, to spasm.
Alice was yelling something at me, but I couldn't make out the words. She needed to get out of here, get to safety. At least wait until that thing bled out and died. It was only a matter of time. I sensed rather than felt her soft familiar skin at my throat. I shuddered in agony, every nerve in every millimeter of my body was being incinerated, roasting, scalding. My arms and legs continued to jerk and move of their own accord, each movement a branding iron slicing through my muscles. I tied to calm myself, to stop the spasms. I tried to take in Alice's comforting scent, to focus on something besides the pain. But all I could register was fire. I vaguely became aware there was a screaming filling my ears, a shrieking of anguish. What was it? It wasn't Alice -- too low to be her melodic voice.
And then my clouded vision started to fade, started to darken. What was happening? Was I going blind? If I was burning alive, it shouldn't be so dark. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear. I sensed nothing but the fire, the searing torching of my flesh, my bones, my muscles, my veins. My heart, my lungs, my stomach, my brain, my throat, every artery, every toe, every inch of cartilage -- a tortuous conflagration of scalding agony. That was all I knew. That was all I could comprehend.
For centuries, for millennia; for aching, wrenching seconds after seconds after seconds. Burning. Scorching. Melting. Baking. Branding. Searing. Toasting. Torching. Blazing. Charring...Fire. Every cell in my body must be sizzling, bubbling with the heat of it. I had thought nothing could be worse than that pain of transformation. I was wrong. Maybe it had just been so long ago, but it seemed like the fire of the vampire venom was a single scorching blaze. Now the vampire venom was raging against the fire of the werewolf venom, each trying to consume me in their ravenous flames, each trying to win by growing bigger, hotter, more excruciating. I remembered hoping for death as I changed, as Maria watched emotionless over my writhing figure. I prayed for death. Now even death seemed too much to hope for. I prayed even for the pain of the vampire venom. One pain had to be better than this dual torture, one bonfire better than two -- merely burning at a stake rather than blistering in the inferno of a blazing city. Just numb it, I thought, just lessen it. Something. Something. Anything. Every second I knew I could not bear another moment, another instant. Every second I knew I must somehow end from the pain. It couldn't be possible that someone could experience this much agony. It just couldn't be possible.
But it was possible. The pain stretched on and on. I couldn't tell for how long. Time was meaningless. Time didn't exist. All that existed was the fire. All there was was pain and burning, burning and pain. Flame and agony and white-hot heat and torture. Endless tortuous suffering. Pain. Fire. Unbearable. Unendurable. Pain and fire, fire and pain, burning, burning, burning.
I tried to focus on something else. I knew, somewhere in my head, that after that first day or so of transformation I had been able to think around the pain, to at least center my thoughts on something else. Even that would be a welcome relief. It would not numb the pain, but it would be something different. But I couldn't. I couldn't think, I couldn't remember. I couldn't keep a coherent thought in my head. Every thought was consumed by the fire, driven out the instant it tried to work its way into my brain by the unbearable torment. The pain that had to end. It had to. Didn't it? How could there be anything left to burn? How could there be anything left to consume?
Thoughts flitted into my head, memories. Some seemed to stick for a millisecond before they were swallowed by the flames. That first battle with Maria in Monterey, those first newborns attacking. I was only a newborn myself, but the sting of the venom bit through my veins. That pain couldn't even register now; it was like dipping my feet into a cold mountain stream.
That hulking male outside of Marietta, Georgia, nearly as big and strong as Emmett, sinking his teeth into my right shoulder and ripping off my left arm and a chunk of my hair -- and scalp -- as he did so. That had been excruciating -- or I thought it had been. Now it seemed the caress of a feather, the softest, lightest breeze, barely noticeable, barely perceivable.
That coven of thirty-two in Natchez, Mississippi -- one of the largest covens I had ever seen -- all coming at me and my pitiful newborn army of seventeen with eyes blazing and teeth bared. I had certainly taken the brunt of that advance. I had been pinned down by six newborn vampires for nearly thirty seconds before I could wrench myself free, and they had done their damage in that short span of time. Maria had started looking for a new lieutenant after that one -- she doubted I would recover. Dozens upon dozens of venomous bites and chunks of flesh ripped from the bone; and ear torn off and a sinew ripped from my forearm; my leg rent from my body at the knee and tossed who-knows-where. It had taken them four hours to find my leg, and the whole time the agony had been unendurable. Somehow, though, I could not remember that pain. There had been no pain before this. Those wounds were incomprehensible now -- a subtle tapping at my knee and ear, the easiest touch of silk on my arm. The worst torment I had endured in my existence -- and I had endured worlds more than my fair share -- was not even a pin prick now. It was not even a mosquito bite. I couldn't believe I had felt, endured, anything before now. There had been nothing else.
Slowly, so slowly, so slowly I couldn't be sure it was really happening, the fire seemed to lessen the tiniest fraction, the pain to ease a modicum of a fragment. A little, so little. So little it was barely noticeable. So minutely it took me a hundred years to process it. But it faded. Miraculously. It was less. Then, another hundred years, it faded more. Slowly, so slowly, so very, very, slowly, the pain began to ebb away. Was this it, then? Was I dying? No, there was still too much agony for that. Unless this was Hell.
I felt my stone heart ripped from my chest. I opened my eyes and I could see the flames now. They were everywhere. There was nothing else. This was Hell, then. I supposed it didn't surprise me, not really. I supposed I had always known. I reached out my hand and the flame sizzled my skin, searing my flesh. The pain was excruciating, but no more or less than the constant blaze I was experiencing. I pulled back my blackened hand and examined it, watching in awe as the burnt tissue reformed bit by bit, grew back. Slowly my skin became pale and white again. Was this some kind of torture? Like the mythical Prometheus who was punished by the gods for stealing fire and giving it to man; chained to a rock and doomed, each day, to have an eagle eat his liver from his body, only to have the liver re-grow during the night so he could endure the same torture day after day?
I heard screams through the flames, pleas, cries. I was afraid. I didn't want to hear these sounds, didn't want to see what made them. But my feet began moving, against my will, toward the cries. I stepped through the flames and I stood suddenly in a dark alley, dirty, unkempt. The fire raged on in my veins, but finally, finally, I could focus on something else; this strange dark alley. No, not strange. I knew this place, somehow. I had been here before, a lifetime ago. Trash was piled high in garbage cans along the side of the dark brick walls and graffiti decorated the surfaces. I saw a terrified girl, no older than a teenager, running and tripping into the alley. I felt her fear, her panic. I felt her near-hysteria.
A figure stalked after her, walking slowly, purposefully, after her down the alley. He strode with sure, measured steps, making no sounds. The girl reached the wall and whirled in terror, realizing she was cornered. The figure -- I couldn't see his face, obscured by darkness as it was -- stalked forward. Step. Step.
"Please," the girl begged, falling to her knees, "please."
The light glinted off the figure's teeth in the pale light of the distant streetlamps. Step. Step. He was enjoying this, enjoying her fear. He reached her then and grabbed the collar of her jacket roughly, pulling the trembling, pleading girl to her feet. Just as he bent down to pierce her throat with his gleaming teeth he turned and looked straight at me, meeting my gaze. With a thrill of horror I recognized the figure, the murderer.
"No!" I tried to yell, but my voice made no sound. With another jolt I realized the terrified girl was no stranger. It was Kristalene -- petrified and frozen in panic.
"No!" I screamed again as the dark me lowered his mouth to her throat and sank his steel teeth into her skin.
I was alone in the Forks house. I knew I was alone, but I ran into the living room, up the stairs, into Edward's old room, Rosalie and Emmett's, Carlisle and Esme's, mine and Alice's, looking, hoping. No one. It was dark in here. Dark in a way nothing had been since I was human. The lack of light actually made it difficult to see.
"Alice!" I called out, my voice echoing through the empty house, "Alice!" She wasn't there. No one was there. A movement out the second story hall window caught my eye and I pressed my hands and face to the glass, looking out on the backyard.
"Alice!" I called again. And there she was, her back to me, a lone tiny figure standing in a sea of green. "Alice!" I banged on the glass, but she didn't turn. She didn't hear me. "Alice!" I repeated over and over, banging and hitting the glass, trying desperately to get her attention, "Alice!"
And then I saw him. A huge leering wolf, easily five times Alice's size. He was pacing back and forth over the stone boulder, back and forth, watching Alice below. I yelled at her from the trees, screamed at her to get out of there, but she didn't hear me. She still stood, frozen, lonely and miniscule at the base of the boulder. I tried to run to her, to save her, but my body wouldn't respond. I was paralyzed, motionless.
"Alice!" I yelled again and again. I saw the evil wolf lowering himself into a crouch, tensing to spring. Alice didn't even see him. She would stand no chance. "Alice," I whispered, panic choking me. The wolf sailed through the air, his aim perfect, gravity closing the gap between his venomous fangs and my tiny angel in the blink of an eye.
"We have to go, Jasper, we have to!" Alice yelled, grabbing my hand and yanking me into the Olympic forest.
"No, we can't leave them!" I argued, resisting her pull. How could she even ask this of me? Ask me to leave my family when the Volturi were coming? Was she insane?
"We have to, Jazz," she whispered, and I could hear the pain in her voice. "Aro has to believe I have left, that I'm not coming back. We have to find the other, the other half-vampire. Everything depends on it. Everyone depends on it. We have to."
I didn't want to leave. I couldn't. They would never understand. They would think we had abandoned them in the darkest hour to save our own hides. I couldn't bear them thinking that. I'd rather die.
"They'll die too," Alice growled, angry now. "Is that what you want? Are you willing to sacrifice everyone for your good name?" She spat the words at me, contemptuous, incredulous. No, I couldn't do that. I couldn't let them get hurt.
"But they need us," I argued defiantly.
"They need the other one more. They need this plan, this chance, Jasper. It's their only chance."
I wanted to stay. I tried to stay. But Alice pulled me, pulled me with such strength I couldn't resist. She pulled me through the woods, past the wolves, across the driftwood and stones and into the sea. The cold of the ocean crept into my chest, into my stomach. They would never forgive me. They would hate me. Esme and Carlisle would try to sympathize, though their hearts were breaking, say I was free to come and go as I wished. Bella would be sad, lose hope, thinking we had escaped because there was no way they could win. Edward would try not to hate Alice. He loved Alice. But he'd hate me. I had betrayed him. Betrayed them all. Emmett and Rosalie -- the things Rosalie would say! I deserved them all. I deserved worse. And Renesmee. My darling brilliant incredible miracle child. What would she think? Would she be old enough to understand? Would she hate me too?
Renesmee in that little pink dress Rosalie had picked out. The lacy frilly number with the big bow in the back. Renesmee racing through the trees, following Jacob, following Emmett.
"Now, Nessie -- no, don't do that! Yeah, one quick swipe! Now jump to the side, kid. Good! That one's pretty big -- are you sure? Okay, well, go for it -- oh! Good one! Regular little huntress we got here, Jazz! Save some bears for your Uncle Emmett, Ness..."
My eyes followed the little girl with the bronze curls as she ran across the open lawn in front of the big white Hanover house. As my eyes flipped to the house -- new and clean, the paint bright and the ivy jade green -- the child changed. She was a little girl in that same pink dress, flaxen curls bouncing as she ran through the tall grass, calling to her brother.
"Jackson," she called, her voice high and sweet, "Come back! Jackson!"
I chuckled as the little boy, in breeches and stockings, jumped from his hiding place in the grass and tackled his sister, both of them tumbling to the ground in laughter. I watched them wrestle and giggle, thoroughly enjoying their game, thoroughly oblivious to the grass and dirt they were kicking up around them.
"Oh, Jasper, they'll ruin their clothes again," Alice chided, but when I looked there was a smile on her exquisite face. Her hair was cropped short and her cheeks were pink and rosy. She wore a straight, navy blue dress that fell to her knees, delicate embroidery hemming the low waist. She was so beautiful, so happy. This was right for her, the way she was always meant to be. A sense of happiness and contentedness overwhelmed me, filled my chest and throat. My beautiful Alice. My beautiful family.
On her hip Alice bounced a chubby-cheeked baby girl, clad in a white dress with a thick lace collar. The girl had jet black hair, thick for a child her age, and beautiful, striking gold eyes. She smiled at me and giggled.
I took her from Alice's arms, swung her up and held her above my head. She laughed delightedly. My little Kristalene, I thought. So beautiful. So perfect. I cradled her in my arms and looked into her perfect face with awe. What could I have done to deserve something so incredible? The baby smiled and grasped at the breast of my vest with her perfectly formed little fingers.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Alice breathed as she leaned around my shoulder and admired our child. Our child. Incredible.
"She's absolutely exquisite," I replied, stroking the child's rosy cheek with the side of one finger. The gorgeous baby beamed up at me and I could feel Alice's supreme contentedness. Perfect happiness. I felt it too. This was all I wanted. All I could possibly have hoped for. I heard Alice's soft breath and heartbeat in my ear, the baby's cooing and giggling, my children's laughing and footfalls as they gamboled and played. I stared again into my beautiful baby's brilliant gold eyes, the thick dark lashes blinking in the glittering sun, the full pink lips parted over the perfect tiny teeth. So beautiful. So perfect.
And then she was at my side, no longer a baby, but the beautiful teenage child I had known. She was so perfect. So lovely. She smiled at me, her cheeks rosy and her skin creamy. I couldn't remember why, but her perfection made me sad. I felt a pang in my stomach.
I looked at her as she continued to smile. I felt a tightening in my chest. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She began walking away, into the dark forest, still smiling stunningly over her shoulder at me.
"Don't leave me," she whispered. But I wasn't leaving her, she was leaving me. Where was she going? Stop! I thought. Come back to me.
"Don't leave me, Jasper," she said again, though her mouth didn't move. She just smiled at me and faded further and further into the dark trees.
Wait! I thought. Come back! Come back!
I couldn't understand. The overwhelming happiness that had filled my chest was tightening, changing. It was no longer happiness. It was a steel vice, constricting my ribs, squeezing out my air.
I ran after her, the tall grass taller than I had remembered it, thicker, tangling itself around my legs and arms as I tried to run. The sky was dark, again that darkness that made it hard to see. And then the tall grass was thick trees, thick gnarled trunks draped in brown-green moss. Those glowering dead Halloween trees with the grasping leafless branches. They frightened me.
"What have you done, Jasper?" An angry voice accused. I whirled around to see Maria, clothed in that long white dress with the embroidered hem and red shawl, the ones she had been wearing the first night I met her on the road. She was glaring at me, resentful. "What have you done?" she repeated.
I stared at her, not knowing how to respond. What had I done? I'd always followed Maria's orders, always done exactly as she bid. I was her number one, her lieutenant. As I continued to stare at her, confused, she stepped aside. No, not stepped -- for there was no movement of her feet -- hovered. On the forest floor, covered in moss and leaves and twigs, lay a crumpled figure. I knew at once it was Kristalene. I couldn't see her face but I knew. I recognized her pale hands and homespun blue dress. I recognized her dark, thick, curls. A stab of pain and panic pierced my stomach.
I ran to Kristalene's side, fell at my knees beside her. No, no, no! What had happened? I wanted to touch her, to hold her, but I felt somehow that I ... that I didn't deserve to be able to touch her. That I was not entitled.
"I didn't do this," I breathed to Maria who still stood, glowering down at me.
"No, you didn't. You disobeyed. You will follow orders, Jasper."
I looked at her, a mixture of confusion and relief washing through me. I hadn't done this. Thank God. I hadn't done this.
"Do as I say, Jasper," Maria commanded. I looked down at Kristalene, now in my arms. As I squeezed her, her face turned and her hair fell away. She looked at me helplessly.
"She's alive!" I gasped, joy and relief overfilling me.
"Yes. You disobeyed," Maria repeated. I stared at her helplessly. I had disobeyed. She wanted the child dead, and I hadn't complied. I was her number one. I was supposed to follow orders. That's what a good soldier did. And that's what I was, a good soldier. That's all I was.
I looked down at Kristalene again. I was supposed to kill her. I was supposed to ... and I couldn't. I could feel Maria's fury at my insubordination rising, feel her wrath as I continued not to do what she wanted me to do.
With a stab of horror and a sadness so strong it sucked the breath from my body I saw that my beautiful sweet child was dying. Her belly was covered in blood, covered in a gaping horrific wound. I felt my stomach turn. I was absolutely appalled, literally frozen in revulsion and fear and grief. I wanted to help the child, to save her. But I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything. She looked up at my face, so frightened, so defenseless.
"Come back," she whimpered. She seemed so sad, so hopeless.
I'm here, I thought. I'm here.
"Don't leave me, Jasper. Come back." She was so desperate, so despairing. It was too much! I wanted to end her fear, end her sadness. What could I do?
I suddenly realized the forest was very cold. And very dark. So dark and so cold. The icy chill crept into my bones, into my chest, crushing me again, constricting me in that frozen steel vise. I couldn't see. Everything was black and somehow blurry, swirling. I was in the water. In that cold, cold ocean. I was leaving. I was leaving my family, everyone I loved. Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Bella, Rosalie, Emmett ... Renesmee. I was leaving with Alice. But where was Alice?
I turned in the arctic black water to look for her, but she wasn't there. She was gone. She was gone, too.
"Alice!" I tried to scream out, but the water filled my mouth, filled my lungs. It tasted like acid. It both froze and burned -- like it was so cold it felt hot. I thrashed around in the water, trying to find Alice, trying to find the surface. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move. My body was stuck in this liquid that was far too thick, far too viscous to be water. There was too much resistance. I could hardly keep from sinking. It was like flailing around in thick syrup, in molasses; it clung to me, restricted my movements. Where was Alice? Where was she? I had to find her. I couldn't lose her, too.
Then I heard her voice, a million miles away, but I heard it. The most beautiful, perfect, melodic sound on the face of the earth -- the most beautiful, perfect, melodic sound anywhere. An angel's choir. Tinkling silver wind chimes. A dazzling melody floating on a soft wind. But it was off, somehow, not quite right. It was so desperate, so sad. She sounded heartbroken.
"Don't leave me, Jasper," she sobbed, "Come back. Don't leave me."
I wouldn't leave her, of course not! What did she mean? I tried to find her in the thick, freezing, acidic syrup. I couldn't quite see. I couldn't quite move. But I could hear her. I ... I could smell her -- that familiar, calming, enticing, beautiful soft scent, the most wonderful scent in the world. My Alice. I could smell her! She had to be close!
And then, somehow, I thought I could feel her. I couldn't be sure -- I was still stuck in the syrup -- but somehow I knew she was touching me, that she was with me. Some of the ice cold thawed from my chest. The steel bands of the vise loosened ever so slightly. My angel was here, somewhere! She was here!
But I still couldn't see her, I still couldn't move, couldn't reach my hand out and touch her. She was close, though, I was sure of it. She was close and that knowledge was such an overwhelming warmth of relief that I felt the ice thaw a little more, felt the syrup become a little less viscous.
"Alice!" I tried to call. The acid didn't fill my mouth this time, but the syrup stuck to my tongue, to my jaw. I couldn't move to make the words come out.
"Jasper. Jasper," she was crying. She was in so much pain! I had to get to her -- I had to help her somehow. I struggled again in the thick water, kicking and thrashing. I had to get to her.
"Alice!" I tried to yell, "Alice..."
I was moving, slowly, swaying. I was rocking softly back and forth in the water. Alice's scent was growing stronger. Her devastated voice growing clearer, closer.
"Fight, Jasper! Come back! You can't leave me! You can't!" she mourned. I couldn't stand it anymore! I had to help her, I had to stop her pain!
"Alice," I croaked. And suddenly I was aware. Suddenly I realized that I had spoken. I still couldn't see or move my body, but I was awake now. No longer dreaming, no longer trapped in the icy, thick water, no longer trapped inside my head. In the way that humans spoke in response to their dreams, waking themselves up with their own voice, so I was woken, jolted into reality by the word I could barely whisper.
I heard Alice's shocked intake of breath. I felt her arms loosen as she pulled her body back to look at me. I felt her emotions, the black, panicked, heartbroken, helpless, lost fear erased, replaced suddenly and overwhelmingly by hope.
"Jasper?" she gasped in a voice a good two octaves higher than normal.
"Alice," I repeated. I was so happy I had found her, so happy to feel the change in her emotions. I could sense so much now. I could feel cold hard stone beneath my body, jagged and lumpy. I could feel Alice's tiny arms around my neck as she held my head in her soft, warm lap. Very warm, in fact. Her body felt much warmer than it should, almost hot -- the way Renesmee felt to my cold skin. My brain still wasn't working enough to make sense of everything I took in, but I didn't much care. Alice was here. She was safe. She was all right. It was cold and damp and musty where we were, but I could smell and feel and hear Alice, and that was all I cared about in this moment.
"Oh, my love! My darling! You're all right! You're all right!" Alice clung to me tightly, kissing my cheek and brow and jaw over and over again. I could feel the relief overwhelming her, and her body shook with new tearless sobs. Sobs of relief and happiness.
I tried to speak again, but my throat was frozen closed. Or burned closed. It was hard to tell. Again, it was like it was so cold it burned. I tried to swallow -- another freezing, burning ache -- and managed a dry croak.
"I found you," I rasped. I tried to open my eyes to see her, to see the angel before me, but there was such a weight on them, they were so heavy. I just didn't have the strength to lift that weight yet.
"Oh, Jasper! My love! Jasper!" she sobbed, stroking and kissing my face. "I thought you had left me! I thought -- I thought --"
That black pain again, that heartbreak.
"No," I tried to say, but my voice was so feeble. I didn't want her to be so sad. I couldn't bear it.
"I didn't know if -- if you'd -- if you could--"
"No," I said, more forcefully this time. Her pain was too much. I struggled with the weight on my eyes again. I could feel my strength returning, but slowly, very slowly. It was not a sudden jolt like my awareness. I pushed at the weights. I was able to force them back a millimeter. I saw the blurred outline of the angel in front of me. I saw the halo of dark hair and the pale luminescent skin. I saw the vague shadow of the dark eyes, staring apprehensively at my face.
"Oh, my love, thank God! Thank God! What would I have done, Jazz? What would I have done?"
I couldn't bear it. I had to make her stop somehow. Why was she so sad? I tried to remember, tried to remember what had happened, how we had gotten here, wherever "here" was. Vaguely, as though through a cold fog or mist, as though through that icy thick water, I recalled danger, I recalled loss, I recalled pain. It came back to me slowly. But when I had it all, I wished I had kept the memories at arm's length, kept them blurred through the mist. Reality was excruciating. It was too much. My Kristalene. My perfect, perfect, beautiful girl. She was gone, wasn't she? She was dead.
"Kristalene," I gasped as the pain hit me, a thousand stabbing knives of grief. I felt Alice's pain intensify and I immediately wished I had kept my agony to myself. I pushed at the weight on my lids again and forced my eyes open another millimeter. The narrow line of vision was blurry, but becoming clearer gradually. Alice's face was contorted in anguish.
"Yes. She's gone," she breathed, barely able to force sound into the words. I let the weights take over then and shut my eyes tight. My sweet, beautiful, kind-hearted girl. Gone. Gone.
"The wolf?" My snarl of hatred was strangled and pitifully dull. I tried to swallow again.
"He's gone, too," Alice spat through clenched teeth. I opened my eyes at her reaction -- farther this time, half-way open. She glared past me in fury tinged with ... retribution.
"How?" I managed.
"Well, you all but finished him off--" she cut off and her emotions were panicked again. I guessed she was remembering the wolf's final attack. I tried to move my hand to comfort her, but I couldn't find my limbs somehow. I still couldn't move. I was still paralyzed and frozen. "--but after he ... bit ... you," she sucked in a gasp of air, "I -- I ripped his throat out. He died pretty quickly after that."
She looked at me with a cold glare of vengeance, of defiance, as though daring me to rebuke her for her blatant revenge. I stared at her in awe; not because I felt any judgement at the knowledge she had killed another creature in cold blood -- that monster deserved no pity and would not be missed from this life -- but because she looked almost frightening, almost crazed. I had never seen her look more like ... more like a vampire, more like the monsters of myth. She looked dark and deadly.
"I'm glad," I whispered simply. That evil beast deserved far worse than the quick death he got. He was lucky. He was spared the fate, the justice, he had earned.
Alice seemed unable to keep the fierce anger inside of her. It evaporated with an almost audible "whoosh," instantly replaced by sadness and fear and relief.
"Are you okay, darling? Are you still in pain?"
I thought about that. Until she had mentioned it my whole body felt numb from the freezing burn. I had been unable to feel any specific part of me to ascertain whether I was still hurting or not. I remembered, with a stab of agony, the raw searing burn of the venom fire. I didn't feel that now, at least. But I started to ache, to hurt. It was nothing compared to the thousands of vampire bites and torn-off appendages and gashed scratches I had recovered from over the past century and a half -- but it was enough. Not unbearable, but still painful.
"I'll live," I smiled weakly, realizing as I did so that I could find my facial muscles and almost simultaneously realizing that it was very painful to use them. I tried not to let the stabs of pain show on my face. Alice had suffered enough.
"I --" the blackness again, "I didn't know if it would work, if I had gotten it all out. I was so scared, I was terrified..." She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, burying her face in my chest, "It didn't work for Kristalene," she whimpered, "but your wound was smaller, fresher. I prayed that the venom hadn't gotten as far with you. I did everything I could, but..." She clutched me closer, the agony of her near-loss filling her again.
"I'm okay," I whispered, "I'm fine." It was a good thing she couldn't feel my emotions. She'd know how blatantly I was lying, though maybe she knew anyway. Alice usually knew what I was feeling. But I was alive -- thanks to her. I would survive. I tried again to lift my arm to comfort her. As with my face, I learned I could move my arm just in time to wish I hadn't. With much pain and effort I raised my hand to the closest part of Alice I could find, her forearm, wrapped around my bare chest. Again I realized how unnaturally warm she felt to me.
"Why are you so hot?" I asked, trying to keep the anxiety from my voice. Had she ingested some of the venom when she was trying to save me? Was she beginning to burn, too? She raised her gorgeous striking eyes, tense with pain and worry, to meet mine.
"I'm not hot," she answered, pressing the back of her hand to my cheek the way mother's check their children's temperatures, "You're freezing, even colder than usual. You have been since ... since a half an hour or so after you were bitten. You're practically glacial. Do you feel okay? Are you cold?"
Worried again, anxious.
"No, I'm fine," I lied again, squeezing her arm weakly. "Tell me what happened. How long was I ... out? Where are we?" I became aware that we were not in the open clearing near the stone boulder where I had fought the werewolf. We were inside somewhere. Somewhere dark and damp and rocky. I could see the dark stone around us, the distant circular glow that must be daylight. How had we gotten here? Why were we here?
"Well, after you saved me -- I'm so sorry Jasper, it was all my fault! It was stupid of me, but I was so afraid something might happen to you, and then -- and then I caused it..." She rushed through the words in a tumble of grief and fathomless guilt. She seemed unable to finish, but looked at my face pleadingly, as though begging for my forgiveness. I nearly laughed at the thought that she should want forgiveness from me -- wasn't this all my fault? Hadn't I been the one to go running off to fight an unknown and lethal enemy with a mind so clouded with vengeance and anguish that I couldn't think clearly? Hadn't I almost gotten both of us killed?
"Darling, don't be ridiculous," I said softly, patting her hot satin arm again. I must be freezing -- she felt like a red-hot poker. "You didn't do this -- you saved me. If it weren't for you..." I trailed off, feeling the panic rising in her again. It wouldn't do to focus on the "almost."
"But I, I..."
"Stop it, Alice. I'm fine. This is my fault. I shouldn't have let my guard down, no matter what. It was ... careless of me." I gritted my teeth. That bit of "carelessness" had almost cost me my life, and, far, far worse, much more unforgivable, Alice's life. Neither of us would be able to survive long without the other. As much as Edward's little trip to Italy had irked and exasperated me at first -- seeming an intensely dramatic overreaction (I hadn't yet understood how deep his love for Bella really was, I had still seen it as more of an infatuation that would fade with time) -- then seriously enraged and terrified me as Alice had put herself at the mercy of the Volturi to save him, I completely understood his actions. All of us did. It wasn't really even a choice to continue on without our soul mates; our entire beings had been irreparably changed by their existence, and "life" without them would not only be meaningless, it would be literally unbearable. If Alice ... died -- I could hardly bear to think the words -- I would live exactly long enough to avenge her however I could, and then I would follow. Immediately. If I died, well, Alice would do no less. And a world without Alice was like Heaven with no angels. It would be sad and dark and not existence at all. A world without Alice was a void, a black hole. Non-existence.
"Oh, baby, I was so worried. I just didn't know what to do! There wasn't anything else I could do. And just sitting here with you, waiting, not able to help -- it was excruciating!"
I tried to change the subject.
"And where is here?" I hinted.
"It's an old mine, I think." She looked around us briefly, her eyes not really resting on anything, and then she returned her penetrating gaze to me. She seemed to be trying to gauge how badly I was hurting, watching for any twitch or flinch that would betray how much pain I was in. I set my jaw into the best grin I could manage. I hoped it didn't look too forced.
"And you thought we needed a change of scenery, did you?"
She smiled stiffly at my poor joke, but the contrived humor didn't touch her eyes.
"Well, after I heard the other ones, yes, I thought a change of scenery would be the best plan."
My body tensed immediately, instinctually preparing for battle. I clenched my jaw, hard, to keep from grimacing or moaning in pain as the movement sent the raw ache through my muscles. It was like a file on exposed nerves. I bit down, gritting my teeth together like a steel trap.
Alice felt my tension and quickly explained.
"Don't worry, they're gone now. As far as I can tell the 'full moon' legends are true -- once the sun rose and the moon disappeared, so did they. I don't think they can phase again for another month."
"But there were more? Where were they? Where did they come from? Why were they here?" I was angry now. I tried to calm myself -- the stress was not helping my aching body.
"I don't know. I'm not even sure how many of them there were -- I was too distracted by you to really focus. More than two, though. I think they must have heard some of the fight, or heard me yelling or -- or you screaming --"
This caught me off guard.
"I was screaming?"
"Yes," Alice whispered, looking down at my bare chest but not really seeing. "You were in immense pain. Don't you remember?" She raised her eyes to meet mine, seeming almost hopeful that my answer was negative. I briefly considered lying to her, but I knew she'd see through me. The memory was still too crystal clear for me to be able to lie convincingly.
"Yes," I mumbled, "I remember." Alice quickly continued her story.
"Well, about two minutes after that -- that thing," she spat the word, "bit you, I heard howling. I couldn't be sure how far away it was -- a mile or two maybe -- but I knew they could get to us quickly if they wanted to. I couldn't fight them off and save you. So I dragged you away to the south. I saw a cave there in my visions and I thought that if I had to fight, it would be a more easily defensible spot than out in the open." She smiled at me, slightly. "See, you taught me well."
I smiled back. Anything to lighten her emotions. "That's my girl."
"So I dragged you in here as fast as I could -- you're a heavy man, Jasper Cullen -- and I just hoped they wouldn't follow. I didn't have any time to cover my tracks, though I'm sure the scent would have read like a lighted billboard. I had to finish getting the venom out. I did everything we did with Kristalene. I sucked out all the venom -- I couldn't taste even a trace of it inside you anymore -- and I bit you, too," she looked at me apologetically again, begging my forgiveness.
"That was smart," I nodded quickly, digging my nails into my palms to ignore the feeling of filed nerves the brisk movement of my head brought on.
"After a couple hours the wound sealed, and I hoped that would be it. But you were so cold, and you just didn't wake up. All night long I waited, waited for it to be over, one way or the other. I almost hoped that, that if it were over ... if you were going to ... die ... you'd do it quickly so I could still find those werewolves."
My hand tightened around her arm. She glared at me defiantly. After a moment I sighed and relaxed my grip. There was no point telling her -- for a millionth time, as we had had this discussion many times before in the past fifty years -- that if something were to happen to me I would want her to go on. I had tried the guilt-trip, "For Esme and the family's sake," the angry, "Is that what you'd want me to do?," and the pleading, "That isn't what I want. Go on. For me." None of it had worked. Alice would never promise me that she would try to continue in a world where I no longer existed. I patted her arm empathetically. I would have done exactly the same -- though I would have tried to take all but one of the werewolves down with me. There needed to be one monster left to take my life.
"You just seemed to get colder and colder, and you didn't move at all. I never wished for blood and a heartbeat before, but I wished you'd had one then, so I could at least tell what was happening. I couldn't even be sure you were still ... alive."
I shut my eyes again. The pain she must have endured in the past however-many hours -- what time was it, anyway? -- wondering whether I would live or die. Wondering whether she was cradling a corpse in her arms, a dead shell of the man she loved. Suddenly I was almost grateful for the agony I had suffered. At least I only had to suffer for myself. If it had been Alice in my place, if I had been holding her cold, lifeless body in my arms, I didn't think we'd be having a conversation now. I think I'd have gone mad.
"Couldn't you see me waking up?" I asked, grasping to divert her.
"No, I couldn't see you at all. Carlisle thinks maybe the venom had something to do with it -- in the same way I can't see others when they're with the Quilieute wolves because their whole ... being creates a kind of cloak. He thinks the wolf's venom kept me from seeing you. You were part werewolf, in a sense, and nothing was in your control. I couldn't see what you'd choose or what would become of you because they weren't your decisions to make. There was no choice -- just like the wolves."
I was silent a moment, pondering this. Part wolf. Ech! I hated the thought that I had anything in common with that vile, contemptuous creature. Alice continued, forlorn and black again.
"That was the only thing that could pull me away from you -- I had to know. I tried to call Carlisle but I couldn't get any reception in here. About three hours ago I walked out of the mine and called him. I thought that, if you were ... gone ... I could make it to Volterra by nightfall--"
I did grab her arm tightly at that, a hiss escaping my lips. A werewolf death was one thing, though it was much more painful than I would want my little angel to endure, but the Volturi were another altogether. And it would take some serious law-breaking on Alice's part to get the Volturi to harm her. Aro wanted her too badly. He'd never kill her unless there were no other alternatives.
"You will not go to the Volturi," I snarled, my voice stronger than it had been since I'd awoken. "Promise me. If it -- if it ever comes to that, find another way."
She glared back at me stubbornly, but she seemed to understand the fervor of my request. Her expression relaxed minutely, though her jaw was still set tightly, and she nodded.
"You know, I have less options than Edward did or you do. Everyone seems rather unwilling to harm such a little girl."
Her near-outrage would have been comical if the very subject were not so abhorrent. I tried to push the conversation toward lightheartedness. Well, lighter-heartedness.
"I'm sure you'll find someone you can annoy enough into doing it. You have your ways."
Again she tried to smile, but the attempt was half-hearted at best.
"Well, anyway, I called Carlisle. I had to repeat myself a half-dozen times because I couldn't get the words out. I was so panicked. I told him what had happened and what I had done. I asked him for his ... professional opinion. He said that your skin sealing was a good sign. He said maybe it was like a human recovering from certain poisons. Your body temperature would drop and you'd be in a sort of coma until your immune system could fight off the venom enough to pull you back to consciousness. He gave me some hope, but I couldn't be sure he wasn't just humoring me, making sure I didn't ... do anything ... until her got here to stop me. He, Esme, and Emmett are on their way here now. Bella wouldn't let Edward go near the Volturi, after Carlisle assured her it wasn't necessary. They're holding down the fort with Rosalie until we get back." The reality of her words seemed to sink in. We were going back. I was all right and both of us would be returning to Forks together, alive. Her emotions brightened remarkably.
"So, how long was I out?" I repeated. Now that the essentials were established -- Alice was safe, I was alive and on the mend, we were no longer in immediate danger -- I wanted as much information as she could give me.
"I don't know, twelve hours maybe? It seemed like a very long time..."
Only twelve hours. Far less time than it had taken me to make the change from human to vampire. It didn't seem any shorter a duration, though. Time had not existed in that Hell. I shuddered at the thought before I could stop myself, and Alice hovered over me, anxious again.
"I'm all right," I assured her. I tried to sit up. A raw searing ache grated down my muscles and Alice pushed me lightly back onto her lap.
"Don't move yet. Let's just wait a while. Your body's been through a lot. Do you need anything? Are you thirsty?"
Now that she mentioned it, there was a dull burning ache in my throat. I swallowed involuntarily. Why was I thirsty? I had just hunted two days ago. My body must have used all the energy the blood provided to fight off the venom, and now I was drained. But the thought of Alice leaving me was far more excruciating than the burn of thirst. I remembered quite clearly, too clearly -- well, remembered the feeling, for the memories were blurry -- losing Alice, being unable to find her in the Forks house or the icy black water. The thought of losing her again, for however brief a time, was almost unbearable.
"I'm fine," I lied, but I knew she had not missed my convulsive swallowing. "Don't ... don't leave me. Not yet." I whispered. She looked distressed, but she nodded. I knew her desire to do whatever was necessary to get me well again was warring with her fear and guilt at leaving me, too. But I would live. Alice's proximity seemed as necessary to me as air at this moment; far more essential to my recovery than blood.
"So, tell me everything, from the beginning. The ... wolf bit me, you ripped his throat out," I couldn't suppress a proud half-smile at that thought, "you started sucking out the venom, you heard the others, you dragged me into an old mine, and then what?"
"Well, I sucked out the rest of the venom, like I said, and I bit you, here, here, and here," she brushed her satin fingers across my jugular, chest, and the crease inside my right elbow. Far from being angry or irritated, I found that I actually liked the thought that Alice's bites would now scar my skin; I would bear the mark of her love and devotion forever. Maybe it was a little twisted, but the idea made me feel a little warmer inside, knowing we were tied together in this tangible way, knowing I bore the physical proof of her efforts to save my life. The corners of my mouth rose ever so slightly. She still sounded guilty. "And then I just waited. I could feel you getting colder every minute and I wasn't sure what that meant. When your wound healed I hoped that would put an end to my panic, but nothing else happened. You didn't wake up, you didn't move at all. It's strange -- Carlisle said often people will dream very vividly and talk and thrash around when recovering from venom or poison. But with you there was nothing."
She looked at me curiously, wondering what, if anything, had gone on in the confines of my subconscious while I was so still. I remembered the dreams -- or nightmares -- blurry at first, but I found that as I concentrated on them they returned to me more clearly, more vividly. What I still remembered most acutely were the feelings those dreams evoked, though. The feeling of discomfort and then horror as I saw myself attack the young girl -- Kristalene -- in the alley; the panic and complete fear as I searched for Alice and then saw the wolf leap at her; the sadness and guilt as I abandoned my family; the immense happiness and contentment as I held my baby -- Kristalene again -- and watched my children play, Alice at my side; the confusion and relief and guilt when Maria had asked me to murder my little Kristalene and I had refused; the immense, intense relief when I realized that I could hear Alice and that she was near. These emotions were much stronger, much more tangible, than the dreams themselves.
But I didn't think I could talk about them yet. They were private, somehow, my own Heaven, my own Hell. Someday I would tell Alice what I had seen, what had gone on in the fiery prison of my mind, but not yet.
"I don't really remember," I said clearly, looking her straight in the eye. I used all my persuasive powers to tell the lie. Alice looked wary, but she didn't press the matter. I wasn't sure if she believed me or just assumed I wasn't ready to talk about it yet and was letting it go. Either way, I was grateful.
"So, you just lay there, cold as ice, still as stone, just there. I was a little hysterical, as you can imagine, so it's all a bit of a blur, but I just kept asking myself what I would do if ... if you left me. If you left me here alone. What was I going to do? I tried to keep hope, but after Kristalene I just didn't know... Finally I couldn't take it anymore and I called Carlisle. He gave me that hope that was slipping through my fingers before, gave me a reason to hold on. He told me to sit tight and just wait and that he'd be here in less than fifteen hours. Like I said, that was about three hours ago, so he should be here around," she pulled the tiny silver cell phone from her pocket and glanced at the time, "nine o'clock tonight or so."
"How are they getting here so fast?" I wondered. It seemed ages ago that Alice and I had made the trip to Paris and then to Minsk and then driven for a day to get to Belaveskaya Pushcha. My brain felt too sluggish to do the math, but it seemed like it had taken us much longer than fifteen hours.
"I don't know," Alice murmured, hovering over me in maternal anxiety again, "I didn't ask. All I really cared about at the time was that Carlisle said he thought you were going to make it and that he and Esme were coming here to help me and make sure. Nothing else really crossed my mind."
I nodded softly, knowing how she must have felt, feeling again that she had suffered just as much as I had in the course of the night. I settled my head into her lap, comfortable. It was the oddest sensation, but now that the adrenaline was wearing off, now that I knew Alice was safe and my most pressing questions were answered, I felt weak, somehow, unable to react or move as I wanted to. I felt ... tired. Very strange. Vampires did not get tired. We did not -- could not -- sleep. We did not need to recharge or recuperate, and yet, I felt strongly that I needed to rest. I felt an almost overwhelming desire to close my eyes and lay still and just be.
And so I did. I continued to rest my hand on Alice's hot arm -- was it my imagination that it felt slightly cooler, a baking oven rather than an open flame? -- let my lids droop and close, let my body relax, my breathing slow, and my mind go blank. I felt Alice stroking my forehead, pushing back the tendrils of honey curls. I heard her humming very softly. I recognized the familiar tune, "Blue Eyed Soldier Boy" -- a pretty song from my Civil War days that Alice had discovered years ago on one of her researching frenzies into my past (as, at the time, she had no past of her own) and had adopted as a lullaby of sorts for us. I knew I had had blue eyes as a human, though I couldn't remember their shade anymore, and Alice had been delighted when she had unearthed the popular ballad and found, when she coerced Edward into playing the sheet music, that it was lovely and melancholy.
"Just what a Civil War lullaby ought to be," she'd said. Her beautiful soprano crooning was even more angelic than her speaking, and I soon found myself lost in a sea of thoughts -- they couldn't be dreams, for you had to sleep to dream, didn't you? -- floating through memories and fantasies and musings as though on a cloud. A silver, soft, hot cloud surrounded by gorgeous melody and a sense of safety and love.