"I see land! Finally; James, where are we?"
"I can't be sure from here, but it doesn't appear to be a town, which is helpful." he was still being coolly distant, and increased the pace of his strokes, forcing Victoria to struggle in the effort of keeping up. When they reached the shore, Victoria could have kissed the land. "We'll have to wait here to dry, and then head south- there must be a city that way, I can smell it," he told her as began to take clothing out of the bag he'd grabbed before jumping off the ship.
"James..." Victoria frowned as he turned towards the sea, becoming a statue as he waited for his clothes to dry. He was still angry with her loss of composure and her disobedience, and had ignored her since they'd begun swimming. "I was irritated, alright? Say something!" she cried, stifling the desire to stamp her foot impatiently. He remained silent, and with a Victoria wondered just how far she could press her luck. Coyly, she sidled up beside him, the top of her head almost reaching his chin. "James," she sighed, inhaling deeply. She loved his scent; tainted with brine from the sea at the moment, but still a most unique combination of pepper, cedar, smoke and grass. Her hands lifted to stroke his flawless skin, which glinted in the late afternoon sun. "You can't just ignore me forever." Still, he was a statue; a thirsty statue, Victoria realized from his black eyes. "Oh, come on-" she murmured, twining her arms around his middle and pressing her lips to his chest. While she had jumped ship at his command, he had taken the time to gather what they would need and a put on a pair of shorts- shorts on which Victoria now tugged at the waistband of.
The blow was abrupt and the crack shattered the peace surrounding them; Victoria was sprawled in the shallows, blinking in shock. James' expression hadn't changed, in fact, he didn't appear to have moved at all but to strike her. Victoria bared her teeth, snarling softly as she rose to her feet. "Fine. Have it your way then." Sulkily, she moved beside him, stilling herself as he had. However, Victoria had never been patient or calm; her eyes flickered left and right over the sea, and within minutes, she was darting around the beach, picking up remarkable shells and examining the trees beyond the shore. The hours passed and her boredom increased. She could feel James' exasperation as she kicked at sand, caught small fish in the shallows, and checked every minute or two to see if their belongings were dry yet.
"Did you not keep any of my pretty dresses?"
"Be thankful I brought you clothing at all," he snarled. Victoria grinned, pleased that he'd responded.
"It's still a bit damp, but I think I can put it on. Came we go now?"
They arrived in Le Havre less than fifteen minutes later, just as darkness was falling. James wasted no time in beginning the hunt. He strode confidently to a doorway on the first street they arrived at, inhaling deeply.
"A woman and a child," he announced softly, before raising a hand and knocking briskly. After several moments, the door opened.
"Oui?"
"Bonjour, ma chérie," he murmured, teeth glittering as he grinned widely, menacingly. The woman's eyes filled with trepidation and she back away from the open doorway, babbling nervously in French. James followed her into the house and Victoria trailed behind him, curious.
"I was in rather a hurry, but fortunately, there will be no need to settle tonight."
Her hand was scrabling for a telephone but James was beside her in an instant, plucking the reciever from her hand and crushing it. "Now, you wouldn't want any interruptions, would you?"
The woman remained silent, eyes terrified and confused. She clearly didn't understand a word he spoke, but James continued to dictate for his own pleasure. A soft wail rose from the next room, and the fear in the woman's eyes turned to horror.
"I'd like to meet your child, if I might?" he strode through the door and the woman bolted after him, screaming, pleading, furiously attemping to harm or distract him. Casually, James reached back and broke her jaw, efficiently silencing her. Then, he went over to tenderly lift the crying infant.
"Hush, hush, little one," he crooned soothingly. The girl seemed shocked into silence by his icy skin, and hiccuped quietly as she stared up at him with large, wet eyes. "There, there," The woman no longer fought, but was paralyzed with evident despair as she watched her daughter.
"You, madam smell lovely. Like basil and... Victoria, what else? I can't quite..."
"Bergamot," Victoria supplied softly. Usually, she would have no problem with breaking in and eliminating an entire household, but this was different. The human he cradled so gently could only be months old, if that.
"Precisely. Basil and bergamot. But your little baby- well, she smells even better. Milk and almonds and pistachios, simply delicious..." he inhaled deeply, eyes closed. The woman whimpered, gaze agonized.
"S'il vous plait..." The words were garbled and were forced through her ruined mouth, but the meaning couldn't be more clear as tears streamed down her face.
James lifted the girl closer, and then, with a sigh, placed her back in the cradle. "It would be a waste; she hardly has any blood in her. I'll come back for her in a decade or two, but for now..." He turned back to the baby's mother, and sprang.
"You're in luck, dear. It would seem that Paris is directly along our path of travel; we can be there in an hour if there are no stops, and you keep up."
"How far?"
"Hundred and ten miles, approximately. Let's go."
With a wide grin of delight, Victoria shot after him. Now that neither were thirsty, they could run without distractions. "When we get there, James," she began as she flew along beside him, "can we go see the Eiffle Tower? And the Louvre? I've never been to Europe before, never actually been outside North and South America, I don't really know why, but I've read about them, and Paris seems so fantastically-"
"Victoria, shut up. If you don't stop talking, we're going around the city and not looking at anything." James was not known to make empty threats, and she fell silent immediately. True to his word, they were there in less than an hour, and despite herself, Victoria gave a tiny squeal of glee, and James rolled his eyes.
"After we see everything I want to get a room at an obscenely expensive hotel with a view of all of Paris, and a huge bathtub," she informed him brightly.
"Anything you wish, dear, as long as you promise, in exchange, to not insist on such pointless frivolity until our return from this expedition. We won't be making anymore stops like this until we're on the way back. I assume you remember that caves suffice just as well as shelter?"
"Yes, James," she replied dutifully, a bit disappointed that this was to be their only sabbatical from traveling in the wilderness, but terribly excited none the less.
"You know, it's going to rain tomorrow- you might wait until then so there are more open attractions, more things to see. We could go to your fancy resort tonight, and leave late tomorrow."
"Sounds lovely. But James," Suddenly, her voice was far too innocent. "You left all my lovely gowns on that ship. I'll have nothing to wear to a nice hotel. Neither will you." She blinked up at him, crimson eyes imploring. "All the very best designers sell clothes in Paris- I promise, I won't even insist on carrying them with me. I'll just get one! Please?"
Victoria could hardly believe her luck, a half hour later, when she walked out of the upscale boutique with a bag over one arm and a hatbox in the other hand. James wore a less expensive, less extravagant suit, but still looked affluent enough to fit in at any osentatious hotel. Victoria ducked into a darkened alleyway to change, and when she emerged, took James's proffered arm.
"Where to, ma belle?" He'd never bothered to learn another language, but one did not forget snipets or popular phrases, and his accent was flawless. Victoria smiled cheerfully.
"Let's go find the biggest, most expensive hotel in the city. If this is the last bath I'm going to have for a while, it had better be in a huge tub. I think I still smell salty."
"You-" Suddenly, James stiffened, dropping her arm as his head whipped towards an open window of the building they were passing. He bared his teeth, a low snarl slipping through his lips.
"Bon soir, mon ami."
Victoria turned as well with a small gasp, and saw what had alerted James. She recognized the scent a moment later: light, pleasant, airy, and decidedly not human. He leaned against the frame of the window, smiling easily, crimson eyes bright.
"My name is Laurent," he introduced casually, leaping gracefully to stand before them. He held out a friendly hand to James, who took it rather warily. Victoria sensed no threat from the newcomer, but was rather offended the he addressed James when he spoke, hardly acknowledging her.
"Are you new to Paris? Staying long?" The words were slightly guarded, the true inquiry apparent. He wondered if his territory was in danger, and wished to know if their presence was a threat.
"New, yes, and leaving tomorrow. My companion wished to see the grand 'City of Lights', but we're headed to Siberia."
"Siberia, you say?" His posture relaxed, and James eased back in response. "What, pray tell, are you going out there for? The population is comparatively sparse to what you might find in Europe and- by your accent, I would presume you hark from America?"
"Yes- and I will be returning to the States whenever my business has finished. I intend to track and hunt a Child of the Moon."
Laurent's easygoing expression vanished. "Are you employeed by the Volturi, then? Caius ordered them all destroyed..."
James grinned dangerously, razor teeth gleaming. "Not at all. Just up for a bit of excitement; thrills can be so hard to come by."
Laurent's look of shocked admiration melted into skepticism. "You're tracking for fun?"
"Indeed."
"Well," he continued, sounding detached and superior, "I wish you luck."
"You don't believe I can kill one?" James's posture was defensive again, eyes narrowed.
"They're dangerous; wild and unpredictable. The Volturi have half to guard out, taking them down one at a time. You and your twitchy female intend to do what a squadron of trained killers struggle with?" Victoria hissed at his rudeness, but James's lips curled upwards.
"No." His smile was easy. Deadly. "I intend to do it alone."
Laurent chuckled softly, shaking his head in bewilderment.
"If you say so," he replied, still doubtfull. "Your confidence is astounding, but rather unrealistic. But," he hesitated, looking suddenly self concious. "If you do succeed, you might pass through Paris on your way back to America. I would be interested in hearing of your tale. I've been alone in Paris a long time, and if you were looking to increase your numbers-"
"No thank you," Victoria spat, enraged. James gave her a brief, furious glare, before replying coolly,
"I'll consider it, and either way, I will be back to visit."
Laurent nodded, face impassive. "I bid you have a pleasant stay in my city."
"Thank you."
He bowed his head, and vanished into the night. James waited silently until the newcomer's scent had faded before turning to Victoria, eyes flashing, voice low and dangerous.
"You are never ever to do that ever again, do you understand me?"
Victoria bristled. "He was rude, calling me your 'twitchy female', like I wasn't standing right there, like I couldn't hear or understand him!"
"You have clearly spent too much time in the presence of humans, my dear, and this ridiculous new age of feminism! It's infinitely worse than the twenties, and frankly it's humiliating- apparently human men have become too weak willed to control their women, and I assure you, women are not difficult to control! Most of our kind have not digressed to the point where females-" he made the word sound like a filthy curse, "-are in charge of covens or pairs, and you embarassed me by answering for what was clearly and entirely my decision. Come on," he snarled, grabbing her arm and hauling her down the sidewalk alongside him.
He took her to the expensive hotel she wanted, and booked the Presidential suite for the night. He ordered room service because champagne and strawberries looked lovely sitting untouched on the table, and called up for all kinds of decadent soaps, bubbles, and perfumes for her bath. She could feel the wrath rolling off him in waves at he stared, unseeing, out onto the Paris skyline. It was nearly four in the morning when Victoria, wrapped up in a fluffy white, complementary Four Seasons robe, slipped out onto the balcony to stand beside him.
"I'm sorry James." He wasn't interested in her fierce self-righteousness, but her pitiful submission caused him to relent almost instantly.
"You must behave yourself, Victoria, if I am to take you along with me," he chastised gently, taking her into his arms to stroke her bright, damp hair.
"I know, and I'll be good, I promise. From now on, anyone else we see, I won't say a word, not unless you tell me to. I'll be very good."
"I know you will," he murmured softly. "I know."
(A/N: What, did you think James wasn't a misogynist? Your reviews make my day. And I kinda wanna write a Gianna/Felix smutfic (because obviously I don't have enought to do!) because I think they make an interesting pair and Felix is kind of a manwhore, which is always entertaining :) Anyway, what do you think?)