17. WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING
"YES, ANOTHER MILE TO THE EAST, KEEP COMING. I'LL BE INSIDE THE mine," I could hear Alice's silver bell voice clearly, though she must be forty yards away, outside the dark mine. I wasn't sure who she was talking to, but I could see that the bright halo of sunlight was gone and the cave was as black as pitch in the darkness. I could still see, though, of course. Unlike in the fitful dreams when I had been recovering from the werewolf venom, darkness only changed the colors around me, not the clarity. It was as simple to see the cold stone walls and mossy rock floor of the cave, and the trees and shrubs and stars outside, as if my surroundings were lit by a spotlight.
I stretched my arms and legs experimentally and found, to my relief, that I was able to move quite easily. I was still sore and stiff, but I was able to sit, to crouch, to stand as though nothing worse than a rough wrestling match with Emmett -- okay, maybe five Emmetts -- had occurred. I stretched again as I stood, noticing Alice's bite scar on the inside of my arm as I did so. I fingered it delicately. It didn't hurt at all -- the sting of her venom was long gone -- but it would be permanent. An eternal reminder of Alice. I smiled softly and walked slowly out of the mine, ducking nearly double to exit the tiny opening.
Alice had chosen our hiding spot well. The trees came right up to the abandoned cavern and all but hid it from sight. At least no humans would have stumbled upon us by accident. I doubted that vampires, and therefore werewolves (as I assumed our senses were pretty comparable) would have missed the cave, though, or the unmistakeable scent of vampire leading into it. But if necessary, as Alice had said, she had a much better chance of defending that tiny aperture than she did protecting herself -- and me -- out in the open.
"What are you doing up, Jazz? You should be resting!" Alice chided, rushing forward as she emerged from the trees and caught sight of me.
"I'm rested," I insisted, "What time is it?"
"Eight forty-seven," Alice answered absently, feeling me over as though searching for bruises or broken bones. "Come here," she ordered, gesturing for me to lean over. I obeyed and she held the back of her porcelain hand to my face, checking my temperature again.
"What's the diagnosis, Doc?" I asked, smiling as I swiftly caught her evaluating hand in mine and pressed it to my lips.
"You feel better, warmer, but you're still colder than usual. Go lay down, Jazz. Carlisle will be here any minute and he can look you over."
So she had been talking to Carlisle. Telling him where to find us.
"They made good time," I observed, making no motion to return to the dank mine.
"At least sit down," Alice pleaded, trying to press me to the ground herself. I couldn't help chuckling at her attempt -- of course Alice's strength was no match for mine, even when I wasn't running at one hundred percent.
"Fine," I grinned mischievously, "but you're coming with me."
I sank to the floor in a lightning fast motion, pulling her tiny form with me so that she fell into my lap. I couldn't fight the almost giddy feeling that was taking me over. I was just so happy to be okay, to realize I would get to continue to spend my eternity with Alice, that she would not feel pain or feel compelled to hurt herself in anyway, that I was going to see Carlisle and Esme and Emmett soon.
"Well, I'm glad to see you're up and about," Alice allowed, though she still had that look on her face, as though she were watching for any sign that I was still in pain. I leaned forward, breathing in her wonderful, enticing, electrifying, soothing scent, and pressed my lips to hers. I meant it as a reassurance, but soon I felt a need overcoming me, a compulsion to be close to Alice, to feel her, to taste her, to breathe her in. I began as a soft soothing kiss, but soon it was strong and passionate, powerful. I could tell Alice felt as I did; so relieved and joyous and elated to be together, to be all right, to have the danger and heartbreak a thing of the past, to have our future bright ahead of us. The trees and the mine and the stars evaporated, and all there was in the world -- all there had ever been -- was Alice, was my little angel, warm and happy and stunning in my arms.
"So I guess he's gonna live, then," I heard a gruff voice chortle, breaking the spell of Alice and her perfumed skin and electrically-charged lips. I looked up to see Emmett shaking with subtle laughter -- well, subtle for him, anyway -- hedged by an anxious Esme and a somber Carlisle.
"Oh, Jasper!" Esme cried, rushing to my side and throwing her arms around my neck as she fell to her knees beside me, nearly smothering Alice in the process, "You scared us to death! I don't know what we would have done! Thank goodness you're all right! Thank goodness!"
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, patting my mother on the back apologetically. I was a little uncomfortable at this outpouring of emotions, though they were no more than the feelings I sensed from her, from all of them. Relief, joy, sadness for the near-loss.
"How are you feeling, son?" Carlisle asked, pulling something from his black doctor's bag. Esme reluctantly stepped aside and Alice joined her, giving Carlisle room to assess my condition. Esme put her arm around Alice comfortingly and I saw, with a pang of distress, that Alice needed the support. She must have been masking her fear pretty well. Even the intense black pain I had felt from her was clearly not the extent of it. I clenched my jaw as I realized how very much I had put her through, how much pure agony she had endured. I swore to myself that I would make it up to her, somehow. We'd spend a month in Paris if she wanted. We'd hit every store, boutique, mall, and shop in the continental U.S. and Europe. Somehow I'd find a way to compensate for the torture I had subjected her to. My poor, sweet, devoted, suffering angel.
"I'm a little sore, but I'm fine," I answered absently, still staring at Alice. I knew from experience Carlisle did not appreciate it if I downplayed any aspect of my injuries, no matter how bearable or minor. He insisted it only hindered him from doing his work, and so I usually told him the truth. I knew they were all too stressed now to have much patience for machismo, so I shrugged and continued, "My muscles ache a bit, and I still feel a little ... sluggish, but other than that..." I shrugged again.
Carlisle stuck something in my ear -- a thermometer -- and nodded as the equipment beeped. He tilted my chin back as he examined the scar at my throat that had once been a gaping werewolf bite. He felt up and down the mark. I could see that light of curiosity in his eyes, the excitement of new information, but he didn't ask me any questions. Yet. I was sure he'd want every piece of information Alice and I could give him as soon as Alice and Esme were recovered enough not to rip his throat out for asking.
"Swallow," Carlisle ordered as he felt the glands under my chin. Then he checked the werewolf scar again, scrutinizing every millimeter of the wound. I couldn't be sure if his intense analysis was for my benefit or his own, but either way I was content to comply. "And you don't feel hot or cold or in pain?"
"No, just a little achey, like I said, and kind of ... well, I feel tired."
Carlisle, Esme, and Emmett at looked at me in surprise. Vampires did not get tired.
"I think ... I think he was sleeping," Alice muttered softly, almost to herself. Esme looked concerned, Emmett curious, and Carlisle fascinated.
"A vampire that sleeps," Carlisle breathed in delighted wonder. I could see the light of anticipation in his eyes.
"Oh, no, you don't! The inquisition will wait until we get him rested, fed, and back home!" Esme warned, pulling Alice with her to wrap her arm around me again. I grimaced apologetically at Carlisle. I didn't mind answering his questions, but I didn't want Alice to be around when I did it. She'd been through enough; she didn't need to relive the whole ordeal again.
"So, what now?" Emmett asked.
"You can help your brother," Esme ordered. I grinned at Emmett.
"You can carry me back. I'm feeling a little indisposed," I chuckled. Emmett gave a faux growl and positioned himself to strike.
"Don't you dare!" Alice and Esme shrieked in unison. Emmett looked rebellious for a moment, but then he relaxed his posture and stood up, grinning back at me.
"It's no fun when you're half-dead, anyway. It's hardly a fight when you're in top form."
I scowled. When Alice and Esme wouldn't have a stroke, he would see who the "fighter" was in this family.
"He said he was thirsty," Alice told Carlisle quickly, apparently afraid of some testosterone-fueled blow out. Carlisle looked to me questioningly.
"Yeah," I admitted, shrugging. I guess I did need some fuel.
"Do you feel up to hunting?" Esme asked solicitously. Emmett chuckled.
"Aw, it's all right. I can catch you a nice little deer, bro."
I glared at him.
"I'm fine. I can hunt."
"Excellent!" Emmett grinned broadly, "I'm dying to check out the wolves--"
It was hard to tell which reaction caused him to cut off his plans so immediately: Alice's squeak of fear, my hiss of anger, Esme's reproachful gasp, or Carlisle's warning hand on his shoulder.
"Er, I mean, sorry," he finally mumbled.
"No, it's okay," I answered softly. I was trying very hard not to think of my last kill, of my beautiful Kristalene on her first -- and last -- animal hunt, her perfect little wrinkled nose, the pungent odor of the wolf blood spilling from her abdomen across my hands and the leaf-covered dirt... I shook my head hard. Emmett looked at me curiously, both guilty that he had upset me and confused as to exactly how he had done so. I couldn't meet his eyes.
"Deer doesn't sound so bad," Alice breathed, moving to my side and placing her hand upon my arm. I just nodded.
"I smelled some about two miles back to the west," Esme interjected quietly, rubbing my back the way you might with a small child who has scraped his knee. She began leading Alice and me back the way they had come, quicker than a human pace, but leisurely for us.
"Can we at least hunt some of those bison? We don't have those in Forks," I heard Emmett grumble behind me.
"Those are endangered," Carlisle replied, his tone closing the subject. I could feel Emmett pouting. He had come all this way, probably thinking he was about to have the fight of his life, and then no wolves, no bison, nothing to make it worth his while. Despite my tragic memories, I smiled just a little. Sulky or not, I was glad to see Emmett. I was so glad to see them all.
"So how did you get here so fast?" I wondered aloud as we continued through the trees. The very trees Alice had dragged me past, escaping from the wolves; the very trees that had witnessed Kristalene's life and her horrific death... I needed a distraction.
"Well, Edward was able to get us into a private airport in Poland -- Lublin, wasn't it?" Esme turned to ask Carlisle.
"Yes, Lublin-Niedźwiada Airport. Usually it's only for transport planes, but occasionally they will fly private planes in. It was much closer than Minsk."
I nodded. Not that I had any idea where Lublin was, but I did know we were very close to the Polish border. It would make sense to fly into the outskirts of Poland rather than the middle of Belarus, as Alice and I had done.
"And Edward's all right, at home?" I inquired, trying to keep the conversation -- and my distractions -- moving. I knew Edward hated to be left out of a fight almost as much as I did. He had nearly worn the carpet down to the wood panels in his room when Bella had asked him not to fight Victoria's newborn army nearly eight years ago. He never let Bella see, but he was incredibly frustrated that he had to sit on the sidelines and watch the action, the danger, and not participate. Of course, as it had turned out, he probably got the best fight of all...
"He was very worried -- so was Bella -- and he said to send you his sincerest apologies for not coming. But Bella was nearly in hysterics at the thought of Renesmee and Jacob on the Volturi's list, and you and Alice in danger -- the thought of Edward being in danger too, and near the Volturi, would have been too much for her, I think. Carlisle assured them it wasn't necessary for them to come and I insisted they stay home in case we needed them or Renesmee called. They'll be fine." Esme patted my back again reassuringly.
"I called Edward right after I talked to Alice a few moments ago," Carlisle added, "they're both fine. Relieved that you're okay."
"What is that smell?" Emmett interrupted, wrinkling his nose. I smelled it too. My stomach lurched and I felt suddenly weak and dizzy, as though I might faint. I sucked in a deep gasp of air through my mouth, trying to steady myself, but I could taste the stench on the wind.
"Oh," Carlisle muttered as he spied the clearing fifty yards away. The same clearing where I had fought the monster that had killed my dream child. The same clearing where that monster had nearly claimed my life. The image from my dreams, my nightmares, flashed through my head; Alice, tiny and alone and unaware, standing in that clearing, the huge, evil wolf grinning atop the boulders, ready to strike--
"What is it, sweetheart?" Esme fluttered over me and then Alice, anxious again. We had both frozen in fear and disgust. Neither of us ever wanted to see this place again.
"Is that -- was that him?" Emmett asked, awed. I nodded, one stiff jerk of my head.
"We shouldn't leave him there," Carlisle said softly as he moved toward the clearing. My eyes shot to his face. What was he going to do? Give the monster a good Christian burial? Did he not understand? Did he not grasp what that thing was, what it had done?
He caught my incredulous glare. "It's the right thing to do, Jasper. You don't have to stay. Esme, take them hunting."
But neither Alice nor I made any move to leave. It was like some sick horrific car accident. I never wanted to see the wretched creature again -- I loathed and detested the very thought of him -- but I wanted to ... see. I wanted to see what had become of him. I wanted to see his blood soaked into the dirt and his entrails and throat feet from his body. I wanted to see his fur matted with that dirt and bracken and his own blood. I wanted to see that he was dead, that he was gone.
Carlisle seemed to understand my torn feelings and he nodded once, compassionate as always. He led the way into the clearing, Emmett following right behind him, and me pacing hesitantly after them. I didn't know if Alice would stay in the trees or not. I listened for her soft footfalls, but I didn't hear anything.
Carlisle and Emmett broke through the trees first and I heard Emmett's shocked intake of breath. I followed behind them slowly. Emmett was blocking my view but I could see Carlisle kneeling down to examine the carcass. With that sense of hate, revulsion, and vengeful curiosity raging inside me, I walked forward, closer to the monster, the soulless thing that had taken my future, viciously massacred an innocent child, and nearly cost me my life and my love.
I stopped in my tracks as I moved passed Emmett and saw the lifeless thing they were both inspecting. I stared blankly, uncomprehending. What was going on? Was this some kind of sick joke? Some kind of cover up on the part of the other wolves? I didn't understand. I didn't get it.
"Who is he?" Emmett asked, looking to me, perplexed. I just continued to stare blankly. What was going on?
"I don't -- what happened?" Alice breathed from behind me, as bewildered as I was, though she, at least, seemed to be able to find her voice. A part of my mind registered that she must have been unable to stay away as well, though I hadn't heard her approach.
There, on the blood-stained dirt of the clearing floor, just where we had left the loathsome wolf monster, lay a bloodied, mangled, naked man. His hair was dark and dirty, matted with blood and bracken and filth. His throat was ripped out, as were his intestines. He was laying twisted on the ground, his knees in the dirt but his torso turned to the side toward us. His head was tilted at an odd angle, his right cheek and grizzled beard in the pool of dried blood that had seeped around him, his hollow, dead eyes staring unseeingly into the forest, dark and utterly ... human.
"What is this?" I snarled, glaring at Carlisle and Emmett. Somewhere I knew it was ridiculous to blame them, but I was livid. What had happened to that cruel, damnable beast that had cost me so much -- so much pain, so much loss? Where had he gone? I scanned the surrounding clearing wildly, looking to the trees, the tops of the rocks. Had those damned werwolves moved his body? Deprived me of the satisfaction of gloating over his cold, mutilated corpse? I clenched my fists in fury.
"That -- that must be him," Carlisle said softly, awed and placating at the same time, "That must be what happens when they die."
"Weird," Emmett murmured. I shook my head.
"That can't be him," I asserted. This was just some poor human guy, dead in the dirt. He looked frail and pitiful -- I couldn't reconcile the image before me with that of the vicious snapping wolf thrashing in my arms.
"It sure smells like something nasty," Emmett disagreed.
"No," I said stubbornly, but he was right. That man did not smell human. He smelled just as the werewolf had -- like rancid meat and dirt, and now blood. Not enticing, irresistible, throat-burning blood, the way a human's blood would smell. It was actually revolting. It turned my stomach. I could even smell the venom mixed in it.
"That ... was him?" Alice breathed, her voice a mixture of disgust and disbelief.
"It must be," Carlisle answered, walking around the body like a CSI investigator, "You said Jasper ripped out his bowels, and you ripped out his throat..." He indicated the wounds on the man, just were the wolf's wounds would have been.
"Weird," Emmett repeated.
I just stared down at the body, unable -- or unwilling -- to make sense of it. It must be the wolf -- he smelled just the same and his wounds were identical. But somehow he seemed ... not so evil in this human form. He seemed less unforgivable. And that enraged me. He didn't deserve this less austere form, the innocent trappings of a human facade. It wasn't fair. It wasn't justice. The world should see him for the fiend he had been; he shouldn't be allowed to revert to this inoffensive shell. He was a monster, a demon. A wolf in sheep's clothing. A wolf in human skin.
"Esme, why don't you take Alice and Jasper into the woods. Jazz, you need to hunt. You need all the strength you can get." Carlisle nodded to Esme, his tone turning persuasive when I glared defiantly at him.
"Come on, baby," Alice said after a moment, pulling herself away from the awful sight and tugging lightly on my arm. I didn't move. It just didn't feel right, somehow. It just wasn't right to bury this creature as though he were a man, as though he deserved our respect. He had already been granted far too much leniency, escaped far too much justice. His death had been quick and painless, he had assumed this sympathetic form, and now he was going to be buried like a lost comrade? It was too much!
I wanted to do something to him, something awful, but I couldn't think what to do. I wanted to ask Carlisle to mutter a curse over his corpse or something, ask him to let me rip off his arms and legs and go feed the pieces to that pack of wolves -- if they would touch his stinking carcass -- but I knew he'd never allow it. Really, I wasn't sure it was in me to do it. I could certainly be vengeful, but I didn't know if I could hate enough to be that sick and sadistic. I clenched my jaw and fists tightly, warring with myself.
"Jasper," Alice whispered, worried, pleading. I relaxed. Alice would never look at me the same way if I put into action the sick retributions that were flashing through my head now. And I would not risk that for anything; certainly not for that vile, disgusting mongrel lying pale and desecrated in the dirt. I resisted the urge to spit at the corpse, and nodded once, turning to follow Alice and the openly relieved Esme into the forest. I could hear Emmett beginning to dig as I walked away -- with his hands, no doubt; much stronger than any shovel. I spared one last glance over my shoulder, wishing again that I could run and sweep up the cadaver, ripping it to shreds as I ran away with it into the woods. I peered over just in time to see Carlisle shifting the body, preparing to move it. As he lifted the creature's limp form, the vacant face turned to stare emptily directly toward me, and something clicked. I froze in my tracks, staring at the gray, lifeless, face. Alice was pulled back as her arm, linked in mine, was abruptly halted. She turned, anxious again, to look at me.
"What is it?"
"It's ... him," I whispered.
"I ... I know, I thought you realized --"
"No, Alice, it's him. Look." I nodded with my head toward the man's face, still fully in our view. Carlisle had frozen in concern, too, as soon as I had spoken. Alice looked for a moment, confused. Then she gasped, her porcelain hand flying to her mouth.
"In the inn, the man," she breathed, her body tensing and her pitch rising.
"What man?" Esme asked, apparently worried that we were both experiencing post traumatic stress or something.
"When we first arrived at the inn in Viselkeizedevia, there was a man. He glared at us, then left in a huff. He seemed angry. I just assumed he had better sense than the rest..." It was all making sense now. That dirty, mangy smell, just like the wolf. That anger and loathing in his eyes -- of course he knew what we were. No werewolf would have survived this long with the Volturi always on the lookout if he weren't very skilled at evading our kind. He probably hated our kind, thanks to the Volturi. How many of his kind had they killed? Hunted down like dogs, slaughtered simply for being? Dozens? Hundreds? He was probably ecstatic at the thought of being able to destroy some of us, extract his own kind of vengeance.
Pain coursed through me again as I realized Kristalene had been a casualty of war, been caught in the crossfire. Surely the wolf knew the girl was no threat to him or any of his brethren; she was a civilian, a child. What damage could she do? But me... I clenched my jaw so tightly I thought I might crush my glittering teeth into dust. It would be clear to anyone with more than human senses that I was a soldier, a fighter. For all the wolf knew I was the scout of a Volturi hunting party, come to eradicate his pack. He had killed the angel child because of me.
Maybe he would have killed her anyway -- purely out of retribution or vengeance -- even if I had never come to this place, I thought. But this was poor consolation. So Kristalene had been doomed to die that horrific death with or without my presence? It only made the pain intensify. At least I had avenged her, I told myself, at least the monster had paid for what he had done. If she would have died either way, at least my presence here afforded her that justice. I tried to ease my conscience, but I wasn't fairing very well.
"He knew," Alice whispered, "he knew what we were, right away. And Kristalene --"
I wrapped my arm around her slender shoulders as a tearless sob shook her body. I closed my eyes -- I had to get that monster's face out of my head -- but all I saw behind my lids was Kristalene. Sweet, innocent, smiling and beautiful, entranced in our stories and our way of life, so good already, so desperate to be better. I hunched a little, feeling that I might crumple to the ground with the weight of my agony.
Esme wrapped her arms around the two of us gently, trying to assuage our pain. She meant well, but how could she know how we felt? She had never even met the angel child I had hoped to call my own one day.
Suddenly a thought occurred to me. Another heart-rending, awful thought that pressed me down further with the weight of the pain. What of Kristalene's body? I didn't know why it hadn't occurred to me before now, but now it was all I could think about. I felt sick that I had left the task so long. She was lying there, alone, in the dark woods that must have been so terrifying to her, alone in the darkness in the dirt where she had met her death face to face, where she had writhed in agony, where she had drawn her last gasping breaths. How could we have left her there all this time? I literally doubled over with nausea. I didn't think vampires could be sick, but I felt like my stomach was lurching up my throat, desperate to escape.
"Oh, Jasper -- Carlisle!" Esme called in a panic.
"What is it, son? Are you in pain again?" Carlisle was at my side in a thirty-eighth of a second, his hand on my head, trying to check the dilation of my pupils.
"Kristalene--" I choked. I actually had to sit on the dirt to keep from falling. I tried to suck in deep gasps of air to keep from retching, but they seemed to catch in my throat and cause me to choke further.
"I -- I know," Esme tried to console me, misunderstanding my sudden reaction. She looked helplessly to Carlisle. I tried to shake my head. They didn't understand. I couldn't explain. I looked pleadingly at Alice, hoping she would know, as she so often did, what I thinking. Where the hell was Edward when I needed him?
I saw Alice's face pale even further and her dainty hands clench into fists. She had already been crouched at my side in concern, but now she seemed to struggle with her balance as well. She swallowed three or four times convulsively.
"Carlisle -- do something!" Esme stammered, truly concerned about us now. "What's wrong with them? Are they okay?"
"We never -- Kristalene -- she's still--" Alice gasped, horrified as well. It should make me feel slightly better that she had not thought of the child's body until now either -- panicked about me and both our safety as she had been -- but I felt only guilt and pain. Every second I sat here spluttering like a madman was another second the child's body lay alone in the dark and the dirt. With great effort I forced myself to rise, pulling Alice with me.
"Which way was it?" I asked her through shallow gasps. She pointed toward the southeast vaguely. She was just as distracted as I had been at the time -- I didn't know why I expected her to remember the location any better than I did. We would have to smell our way. The thought turned my stomach again, threatening to crush me to the ground with the weight of the pain.
Without a second glance at Esme, Carlisle, Emmett, or the mutilated monster, I grabbed Alice's hand and raced off into the woods. We had to do something for the girl. Ugh! How long had she lain there now? One day? Two? I swallowed the bile that built up in my throat and raced on, forcing myself to sniff the air for the scent of vampire, werewolf venom, and wolf blood. I was vaguely aware that we were being followed, but I didn't waste much concern on the fact.
Finally I smelled that familiar sickly smell of dirt and dog, the sweet scent of vampire, and the faded scent of the blood, beginning to turn. I clenched my teeth together and tried to mentally prepare myself for the sight I was going to see.
I slowed to a walk, Alice hesitating behind me. Maybe I should make her go back to Carlisle and Esme, spare her the horror of reliving this tragedy. I should, but I honestly didn't think I could face the child's body on my own. I hoped Alice would forgive me this selfishness.
I walked forward, step by step, faintly recognizing the trees and the rocks around the spot. And then we were there. I expected pain, retching, crumbling to the floor as my legs gave out, choking, even sobs. But what I felt was ... nothing. I was numb. My mind refused to register the sight that would make my body useless, the knowledge that would force me into a ball on the ground, cowering in pain. I stared at the mangled body, the bloody stomach and leg, the hands lying limply at her sides, dark with blood, the thick, dark hair tangled behind her head. I looked at her exquisite face, so beautiful still. Her eyes were dark now, blank and empty. They made her face wrong. She was just a shell, now, of the creature she had been. There was no light to her anymore, no sparkle of warmth and curiosity and goodness. She was just a beautiful, pale, shell. I continued to stare, uncomprehending, unfeeling.
"Oh Jasper, Alice," I heard Esme breath sorrowfully from somewhere behind us.
"I'm so sorry," Carlisle added, resting his hand on my shoulder.
Neither Alice nor I responded in any way. We both stood frozen, staring at the empty angel child.
It was the sound of earth being scratched away that finally broke into my nothingness. Someone was digging. Digging a grave. I turned quickly to whomever it was.
"No," I said roughly, to Carlisle I saw now. Emmett must have stayed in the clearing to finish the grave for the wolf. Carlisle looked at me apprehensively. I wondered fleetingly whether he was fearing some Rhett Butler style-refusal to bury the child, not wanting her to be alone in the dark. I had to admit, that thought was revolting, but it wasn't why I stopped him.
"She should be buried at her church, with her family," I murmured. Carlisle looked surprised, but he nodded. "We should take her to Anya," I said to Alice, trying to keep my voice from breaking. How could we tell Anya that her sister, a part of her soul, was dead now? Anya wasn't supposed to live to see her sister die. Her sister was supposed to be immortal.
"We should clean her up first," Alice whispered, trying, as I did, to keep the catch from her voice. I nodded and stepped forward toward the angel child. Trying not to look at her lifeless eyes, I scooped her up in my arms and began walking with her toward the very stream we had sat by after her first hunt, watching the bison and relaying the story of mine and Alice's lives.
"Esme, did you bring any clothes with you?" I asked without turning. I could hear Esme following us, and I doubted Alice's clothes would fit the girl.
"Yes," Esme answered, the concern still apparent in her voice, "my bag is back with Emmett, though."
With a whoosh of air she took off back the way we had come. I could still hear Carlisle behind us, could feel his worry and sympathetic pain for our loss. He didn't speak, but kept pace fifteen feet behind us.
Finally we reached the stream. The bison were there again, sleeping a hundred yards away. I didn't care much if I disturbed them this time. I lay Kristalene down gently on the soft dirt bank. I took my bloodied sweater from her abdomen, very carefully averting my eyes from the wound, and stepped into the water to wet it. Alice carefully pulled the bloodied homespun blue dress over the girl's head and arms, Carlisle lifting her body helpfully. I tried to rinse the blood from the sweater, then returned to the child with the dripping garment.
"Do you want me to--" Carlisle began, but I shook my head. This was the least I could do for her, for the child I had hoped to make my own and share the next thousand years of my life with. How unforgivably selfish it would be to make someone else do this, to push this last service onto another simply because it would torture me. The numbness overcame me again and I worked mechanically over her, detached. I washed away the blood and venom from the gaping stomach wound, returning to the stream three times to rinse out the sweater. I washed her leg and hands, brushed the smudges of blood from her perfect, seraphic face. Alice worked pulling her fingers through the child's thick, obsidian hair, trying to comb through the tangles and remove the dirt and leaves and twigs.
Esme arrived moments later carrying a sturdy-looking backpack. Near the top lay a dark blue button-down shirt -- Emmett's, a part of my mind noted -- that she handed silently to me. She rummaged a little deeper until she found a simple white cotton dress. She handed this to Alice, watching us both with a worried and empathically pained expression. I threw on the shirt -- it would startle Anya less if I appeared as normal as possible -- and lifted the child again as Alice pulled the dress onto her now blood-free body. Luckily the cotton was thick and long, so the wounds were not visible through it. I looked over the beautiful girl on the mossy bank carefully, making sure there was nothing more we could do to spare Anya. She looked almost hauntingly lovely now -- except for those eyes. With a moment's hesitation -- closing her eyes seemed so final, seemed to make all of this so irrefutably real -- I slid my hand over her face and closed her lids for the last time. I felt some of the numbness draining away, and I tried desperately to cling to it. I couldn't fall apart yet. Not yet. I hadn't done all I could for the child yet. After she was safely in Anya's keeping, after she was laid to rest in the village where she had lived and loved and died, then I could afford to feel. Then I could afford to fall.