A/N: Dear people, thank you for bearing with me. Life indeed happened, but I'm back now, getting closer to zero hour in this story. In the last chapter, I referenced The Terminator and Fight Club. Hopefully, no other references were missed. For this installment, I decided to make some minor character adjustments regarding Volturi characters. An ancient Roman (Caius, whose name isn't exactly correct, either, but whatever) would not have long hair, and his wife got a new name - an actual ancient Greek name that I researched and that is based in mythology. The thing SMeyer came up with doesn't seem to exist, and I strive to achieve at least a modicum of historical accuracy, fantasy story or no. Anyway, the plot thickens! I hope you enjoy how hopelessly complicated this whole thing has become.

Chapter Fourteen

1 "There's this self-storage facility in Sequim," Leah had told Demetri, as they'd boarded his rental car. "I've been renting a unit there, ever since I came back from college – you know, just lots of crap I don't want to throw away, stuff my family would like to get rid of for my own good."

He'd asked for the address, typed it into the GPS (a hero for the modern age: undead, but willing to ask for directions!), and had pulled out of the parking space. To be fair, he'd offered her the pilot's chair, so to speak, but she'd declined. Too much going through her head, she'd told him. She didn't feel like focussing on traffic, either, and he never got tired. It was a bit of a win-win deal, really.

About five minutes after they'd started driving, she'd dozed off. When she came to, it was getting dark. Yawning, she stretched, and said, "How long have I been out?"

He cast her a quick, sideways look. "An hour. We should be there in about thirty minutes. You can go back to sleep."

"No, thanks, I'm good," she said, running her fingers through her hair, trying to sort it out. "This has got to be the most bizarre day of my entire life."

"More bizarre than the day you found out you were a werewolf?" Like the good preppy boy he was, he kept his eyes on the road. There was a decent amount of traffic, but nothing overwhelming. The fine drizzle of earlier had turned into a verifiable downpour, however. Well, it wasn't as if he had to deal with limited visibility problems.

"Strangely enough, yeah," she said, tugged down on her sweater, leaned her head back, and started drumming on her jeans-clad thighs with her fingertips. "Being a shape-shifting, supernatural monster whose sole reason for being is killing vampires doesn't shock me as much as playing dynamic duo with one of the people I'm supposed to be killing."

"Makes you think, doesn't it?"

"I'm sure there's a valuable life-lesson in there, somewhere," she said, and looked out the passenger-side window. "This is all so strange. Tomorrow, I'll be walking onto a battlefield to stop a bunch of supernatural abominations from tearing each other to pieces. It won't work, of course, and I'll be forced to pick a side." She pressed her lips together and chewed on the inside of her cheek, exhaling deeply through her nostrils. "I'll be fighting my pack leader and my own brother. How did that even happen? I know I shouldn't feel sorry for myself, but I can't help but wonder if I shouldn't have stayed away from home."

A little silence ensued, during which all she heard was the sound of the rain pummelling the car, as well as the drone of traffic.

At length, he said, "Why did you do it?"

"What, come back?" She turned to the front again, crossed her arms, and shrugged. "I don't know. Sense of duty, I think. My mom said that the community needs me. I missed everyone, too. Whatever it was, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Then, the vampires happened."

"Yeah. Then, the vampires happened." She snorted derisively and shook her head, gnashing her teeth together. "You know, every time I start feeling sorry for all the dumb bastards being warped by the demon spawn, something reminds me of the fact that it's all their own damn fault. The kid is their fault. Bella's casualties are their fault. Jared and Embry…" She trailed off, shut her eyes, took a deep breath, waited until the pangs in her stomach subsided. "That's on them. Hell, all the collateral damage that their mere presence here caused? Us wolfing out? All that imprinting shit? That's all on them. Fuck 'em. I'm done feeling sorry for any of those assholes. They sure as hell don't give a damn about me."

"No, they don't," he said calmly, eyes trained on the road. For a moment, they just drove on in silence, until finally, he briefly glanced at her. "I derive no joy from saying this, but you have got to learn not to empathise with your enemy."

Slowly, she turned to face him, eyebrows raised. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that in many cases, compassion is irrelevant and sometimes even dangerous. Like you said: the Cullens have been infected by the dhampir. They will do everything to protect it, no matter what the consequences. That doesn't just mean they'll fight. It can also mean they'll harp on your sympathy if the child feels it'll get farther by making you feel sorry for it. You know that the child and its keepers must be eliminated; that's a fact. There is no way around that. Now, whether you empathise with their plight or not makes no difference. On the contrary: it can hamper your ability to be objective about the task at hand."

She mulled this over, chewing on the inside of her lower lip for a minute or two. Then, she blew out a heavy breath, rubbed at her eyes, and made herself say, "I know that. I know."

"But you think it's easier for us vampires to switch off our emotions, don't you?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

The corners of his mouth curved up in a very subtle smile. "I can see why that would be your impression of how our feelings work, but actually, it's a little more complicated than that. I won't go into any philosophical debates on the merits of vampiric emotions, but you should know this: our most prevalent impulses as humans are heightened to the extreme when we turn, and added to this is our penchant for revenge. That's another reason why you must turn off your empathy tomorrow as well as you're able: if we manage to get our hands on the dhampir, its protectors will go berserk and will not stop until those who dared to harm it are eradicated." He paused for a moment, before saying, "It's a matter of pure survival, Leah."

"Yeah, I get it," she said, drumming on her legs again. "Either we succeed, or everyone dies: you, me, my people."

"I'm sorry to say it, but yes, that is correct."

She cast him another sideways look. "So what's your most prevalent impulse? Being so polite that everyone else feels like a tantruming barbarian around you?"

He frowned, and then laughed – honest to goodness laughed. It was a weirdly refreshing sound. "My mother always used to say that no matter how hard the situation, there's no need to be uncivilised."

This made her snicker. "Funny. My mom has a similar nugget of wisdom she likes throwing at my thick skull when I'm being particularly horrible."

A few seconds went by in silence, until he said, "Do you get along well with her? Your mother?"

Briefly, she considered telling him that this was none of his business, but then she said, "Yes, I do. I'm not always easy to deal with, but she loves me the way I am – best thing that can happen to a person." From the corner of her eye, she saw him nodding curtly, and noticed the rather sombre expression on his face.

"Good. That's really good. I'm happy for you."

What the eff was that all about? Vampire-boy, the family man. Huh. She let her gaze wander to the GPS and saw that they were almost at their destination. "Oh, man, I am so not looking forward to what's about to happen."

"You shouldn't. It won't be at all pleasant," he said, and glanced at her again. "But unless you want to stay out of the fight…"

"I can't. Believe you me, sunny Jim, I've actually been indulging the lowly impulse of looking for a good excuse, but there isn't one. I need to be there and do whatever I can to stop those dunderheads from tearing each other to pieces."

After about half a minute's silence, he said, "I can guarantee that you'll be immune against mind-control of any kind, but I can't guarantee that you'll be able to fight. You may be in too much discomfort."

"By which you mean pain. Please don't sugar-coat this for me. I'm not a delicate little flower who must be shielded from the truth at all costs." Her stomach clenched, as did her jaw. "I can handle pain. Don't you worry about me."

"I already told you: I'm not worried about you. I'm just telling you that it may not be physically possible for you to fight."

"Maybe I won't have to," she said, cringing slightly the moment those words came out of her mouth. They sounded too hollow, even in her own ears.

"Maybe," he echoed, sounding just as convinced. "We'll see. Personally, I hope we can persuade your friends to wait until my friends arrive, so we can attack the Cullens together."

She exhaled deeply and shook her head. "You heard Sam. He won't have any of it."

"We'll see," he said again, eerily calm. Maybe that was just a vampire thing, though, this inability to emote correctly. Who knew. "One step after the other."

"Yeah," she said, "right."

"We're here." He pointed ahead. "Let's not waste any more time."

"Hurray," she muttered, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just wish I couldn't claim I've had worse Saturdays."

2 The unimaginable had happened: Leah had betrayed her own pack. Seth and some of the vamps (mostly Meekest Wife Ever, Ken Doll Patriarch, and Twee Twit) believed that she'd been caught by Sam and his lackeys, but Jacob knew better. Okay, he didn't know, exactly, but he was pretty sure. Leah hated the vampires. Leah hated Jacob for making her protect them. Leah hated (his) Nessie. There was no denying any of this, and whether Sam had caught up to her or she had simply split made no never mind to anyone. Leah, that ungrateful harpy, was gone. Jacob would be fuming at it, if the fear that this realisation caused in him didn't drown his fury in a lake of ice-water. Like it or not, Leah Clearwater was not only the smartest of the three leech-friendly wolves, she was also a badass warrior who took shit from no-one. Without her help, their odds were not exactly stellar.

It was dark already, and Bitch Barbie from Hell had tucked sweet little Nessie in, had fed her two blood-bags, kissed her good night, and finally breezed out of the room to go feed. Jacob was now sitting in the horribly tacky, big purple armchair by the window, watching the little girl as she fell asleep, per her request. Her silver wind-chime voice resounded in his head, all small and lost and vulnerable:

I'm scared, Jacob. Don't let the bad men hurt me.

I won't, he'd told her. I will never let anyone hurt you. You're my precious little angel. No-one's gonna touch you – not ever. You hear me?

Does Aunt Leah want me dead?

The question had made his throat clench and his hands ball into fists. Teeth gnashed tightly together, he's said, Of course not, honey. No-one who knows you can hate you. You're the sweetest thing in the world.

Do you swear?

I swear.

Little later, she'd fallen asleep. Now, she was breathing evenly, lying on her side, her perfect little face relaxed, framed by those dark-brown curls that were too kempt and too flawless to be natural. Nothing about this kid was natural. Nothing about his obsession with her was, either. Bile shot up his throat, and his stomach lurched. He buried his face in his hands. What the fuck had happened to his life? Part of him wished he could join Leah, wherever the hell she was. He didn't want this. He didn't want to fight his own people, his friends and relatives, to protect his natural enemies – the reason he had turned into a wolf in the first place. The reason he had imprinted.

And now, here he was, a little bit like Wardo during the salad days, watching somebody else sleep.

Good God. Christ. This was so, so fucked up.

Feeling sick to his stomach and weirdly contaminated, he pushed himself to his feet and stomped out of the room, down the corridor, downstairs, past the frozen-up Cullens, out into the front yard. The chilly air hit his face like a bucket of cold water, but it felt glorious and natural and clean. He let his arms hang loosely by his sides, closed his eyes, and breathed. Sure, the sickly sweet stench of vampire was everywhere, but he'd gotten pretty much used to that during the past few months. It had become easy to filter that crap out and focus on the rich, dark, green, earthy scents of the forest. Again, the wish to simply run off and leave all of this shit behind stung through his gut, and he trampled it down as best as he could. There was no use to dwell on any of this. It was nothing but a colossal waste of time.

Great, now he was starting to sound all pompous in his own head. Yep, he was definitely spending way too much time with these self-important douches. One particularly sweet vampire smell nearly swamped him before he heard feather-light steps approaching from the house.

A female voice said, "I wouldn't even blame you, Jake. If you ran, I mean."

Bella. Good God, Bella. Again, Jacob's innards churned. He suppressed a sigh. "You know I can't."

"Do you want to?"

"Yes." It was out before he knew it. "No." He opened his eyes and glanced at her, who was now standing to his right, cultivating a respectful distance. Maybe she just didn't like the way he smelled. Given her recent character development, he was rather inclined to believe the latter. "Doesn't matter a lick what I want, though. Don't have any choice. Might as well stop being all emo and shit."

"You're not being emo, Jake," Bella said, her voice showing no emotion whatsoever. It was a little spooky, sure, but not too much; after all, she'd never been one to emote too much on her best (human) days. "Remember my appalling behaviour during Edward's absence? If anything deserves the label 'emo', it's that."

Well, girl had a point. He shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his ragged jeans. "How're things…with you and him, I mean. With you and hubby of the decade."

She mulled this over for a moment, before saying, "I don't know. I think we're separated, but I'm not sure. It probably doesn't matter. The chances of surviving tomorrow's battle aren't particularly good." Good Lord, she sounded like an automaton. Was that what happened if a leech got to drain several human beings in the course of a few days? They morphed into a fucking robot? Screw his 'not too spooky' verdict of a minute ago; this was scary as shit.

Oh yeah, he'd almost managed to forget that she was a psychopathic murderer, now, too. Well, to be fair, she'd always been on the sociopathic side of the spectrum, even as a human. It hadn't mattered. He'd loved her. Part of him still did. Unbidden, his thoughts wandered to Nessie, who was upstairs, sleeping soundly, trusting him with her precious life. Gooseflesh broke out all over his body, and he shuddered. Goddamn.

"Don't knock our chances just yet, Bells," he said, his voice sounding oddly thick, as if he were developing a cold. "We might make it. We got some advantages over Sam's pack."

"All of this," she said, motioning about with a slow wave of her snow-white arm, "it seems like the strangest of dreams to me. I'm not myself, this is not my body, and the world I see looks the same and at the same time completely new. Now a bunch of werewolves wants to rip me apart and burn my remains, and I can't even feel fear. Can you tell me if all of this is really happening? It doesn't feel real to me – none of it."

Jeez. These weren't vampires, these were aliens. It was so, so creepy, watching this hollow Bella-shaped shell move its meat-puppet about, making its mouth move, making inhuman words come out. He'd been creeped out by the leeches before, sure, but it was so much worse seeing one he'd known as a human – someone who'd been very important to him (still kind of was). Were these…these things even people anymore? It was hard to wrap his mind around the mere concept.

Again, his thoughts wandered to Nessie. Again, he felt a little bit queasy. "It's real enough," he said, after noisily clearing his throat. "I don't want to sound like a bad action movie cliché, but shit just got real, Bella. This is happening. You better get your act together. You're filled up to your eyeballs with human blood. We need you."

"I know. I failed miserably earlier, when Jasper and Irina fought the boys. I don't intend to make the same mistake again."

The boys. Embry and Jared. Pain shot through his innards. He trembled, clenched his fists, bit his tongue. Oh, he was itching to storm inside and rip that piece of shit Creepula to ribbons. His lifelong friends were dead for nothing – for doing their goddamn jobs. For doing their duty. For doing what Jacob was supposed to be doing. Fuck it. Fuck this bullshit. He pressed his lips together and breathed in deeply through his nostrils before saying, "Good. It's either us or them. Whatever happens, I won't let anyone get their hands on Nessie."

"I'll fight," Bella said levelly. "I promise."

It wasn't exactly awe-inspiring, this assurance, but it was a take it or leave it situation. "Awesome," he said, listless, and turned to go back inside. It was probably a good idea if he went to check on Nessie again, see that she wasn't having a nightmare. It was even better if he didn't think through the implications of why being even a few feet away from her for a few minutes made him almost unbearably antsy.

3 "So…what exactly do I have to look forward to?" Leah said, hands on her hips, trying not to shift her weight from one foot to the other, trying not to come across as too fidgety. She and Demetri were in her storage unit, which wasn't even halfway filled up with all of her (beloved) unnecessary junk. The bare lightbulb above their heads cast a yellow cone of light and stark shadows, highlighting his sharp facial features and ghostly pallor. All of this was so surreal. She was weirdly light-headed, weirdly detached from herself, and yet couldn't stop her heart from racing, her palms from getting sweaty. Still, she stood straight as an arrow, shoulders set, chin jotted forward, eyes narrowed. Of course this was scary as all fallout. That didn't mean she was going to take the path of least resistance; she never had – not once in her life. She wasn't about to start now.

He returned her look impassively for a couple of seconds, before saying, "Pain – a lot of it. I can't describe it to you. Have you ever been bitten by a vampire?" When she woodenly shook her head, he nodded once. "Have you ever burned yourself?"

"Yeah."

Tilting his head slightly to the side, never taking his eyes off her, he said, "It's like that, only in every cell of your body, all at once."

A knot formed in her throat. Her entire body was taut and wired. Her head was aching dully. "Okay," she said, sounding more firm than she would've expected. "How long does it last?"

"Assuming you react the same as the type of werewolf I am familiar with, no more than eight hours," he said, using a tone of voice one might choose when commenting on the weather. Huh. How droll.

After briefly wondering how he'd even come by this kind of practical information (and deciding that she probably wouldn't like the answer), she swallowed dryly and made herself keep eye-contact. "And after that?"

"It will still hurt and you will be weakened, but you will be temporarily immune to any psychic powers such as telepathic coercion – including Jasper Whitlock's."

That was good news. Again, she nodded, this time with more confidence. "What about the demon spawn?"

The tiniest smile curved up the corners of his mouth. "The demon spawn, too."

Even better. Did it even matter how the hell he knew all of this shit, whether he'd read it in an ancient scroll or found out by experimenting on people? Well, yeah, of course it mattered, but it was definitely a concern for another day. "How long does it take until I'm normal again?"

"Three to four days, no longer," he said, watching her serenely, unblinking. There was no need for the human façade here, where it was just the two of them. "There shouldn't be any long-term consequences."

"Shouldn't be," she repeated, chuckled dryly, looked down at her shoes, and shook her head, chewing on her lower lip. "All right, then. Let's do this."

"Very well." In a flash, he was right in front of her. "You won't be able to phase," he said, and placed his stony hands on her upper arms. She could feel the coolness of his skin through the thick fabric of her old and ragged cotton sweater. "But you'll want to."

Irritated, she raised her hands. "Just stop expositing and do it, already, before I change my mind! Jesus."

"Maybe you should change your mind," he said, grave and sombre, clearly meaning it.

She exhaled deeply and shook her head again, said, "I can't," and closed her eyes. "Just get it over with."

"I'm glad that I have earned your trust, Leah," she heard him saying. "It means a lot to me, knowing that such a feat is even possible."

"Trust you," she echoed feebly, and felt his icy-cold lips clamp over her jugular. "This is insane."

Pain seared through her, from her neck to her head to her heart to her limbs, as his fangs ripped into her skin. All thoughts of bravery were lost to her as her entire body erupted into flames. With all that she had, she focussed on why she was going through this hell, and for whom. The same thoughts raced through her head like a mantra, over and over and over again as she burned:

For Jared. For Embry. For Seth. For Jacob my mom Emily Paul Quil Billy Claire Collin Brady all of them all of them even for Sam for Sam my people my people for me.

By the skin of her teeth, Leah managed not to scream.

4 In Volterra, despite what some lobotomised malcontents might claim, existed the only place where vampirism was synonymous with the predicate 'civilised'. Since the three leaders of the Volturi coven spoke Latin amongst themselves, all of them did – it was the language of civilisation and culture, of prosperity and progress. Caius – once Gaius Octavius Aureus – thoroughly approved. If there was one thing that he valued, that he had always valued, it was enforcing the order of things. Vampires were, by nature (or lack thereof; scholarly opinions on this varied), chaotic and recalcitrant. They required a firm hand, even if many of them did not understand the wisdom of this; it was for their own good.

Making unpopular but wise decisions was a part of this, such as changing the conditions of the deal that Demetri had made with that American werewolf. The boy had promised the wolf that her tribe would be spared if she cooperated with the Volturi, that they would be allowed to live if they did not interfere. It was admirable that Demetri – always the appeaser, always the good-natured justice seeker – had managed to ensure the cooperation of local supernatural creatures, that he had managed to find a compromise. It was a remarkable ability that he had, this innate diplomacy that most of their kind lacked; really, it was. However, in this case, it was woefully misguided. There could be no compromise with werewolves. There must not be. Caius didn't care that they were not the ones he was familiar with. He didn't care that they might not mean him any harm. They were wolves. They had to die – all of them. Only then would the vampires of the world be safe to live their existences away from the human eye.

He was in his wife's private chambers, standing in front of the ancient, perfectly polished Mesopotamian copper mirror, squinting at the ragged scars on his otherwise immaculate throat – a scar he usually hid beneath a scarf. As usual, he'd only meant to give an inconspicuous, modern touch to his Roman haircut – military short and Gens Octavian blond – but wound up examining the disfiguring mutilation on his nigh-on invulnerable skin for gods knew how long.

"I know that it reminds you of your darkest day," Atalante said from behind him. The sound of her deep, sonorous voice always instantaneously made the world seem less grey, made life itself feel less like an endless string of nonsensical rituals, of meaningless repetitions. She stepped up to him and put her arms around his skinny waist. "It shouldn't. It should remind you of your victory."

"Victory?" he said, briefly touching his fingertips to the rough edges of the pinkish bite-marks. "I nearly got my head torn off by that filthy animal."

"But you didn't." She leaned her brow against his back, between his slender shoulder-blades. "You're here. You survived. You won."

"Not without help."

"Does it matter?" The irritation in her tone would be more than obvious to anyone, and he knew her; he knew her very well. Gently, she took him by the shoulders and turned him around, so that he could see her beautiful, heart-shaped face, admire her long, luscious black hair, look into her big, round, ruby-red eyes. "Stop living in the past. Stop punishing yourself for something that not only happened centuries ago, but that was out of your control from the get-go. You are here, alive, with me. That is all that matters, and I will hear no more of that self-blaming nonsense."

Despite himself, he had to smile a little. "You do understand that I have to do this, don't you? I have to eliminate this threat once and for all – for all our sakes."

She rolled her eyes and sighed theatrically, clearly meaning to annoy and tease him. "If you must. Just remember that not all of us agree, and that I personally believe you should honour the deal Demetri has worked out."

"You Greeks and your wretched diplomacy," he said, only half serious, took her hands from his shoulders, and squeezed them once before letting go of them again. "I know what I'm doing, woman. Trust me."

"Don't 'woman' me, Gaius Octavius," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly. "I know that you believe that what you're doing is your duty. The fact that I don't approve doesn't factor into this in the slightest, but even so, I feel compelled to point out that sometimes, diplomacy is indeed the most prudent course of action."

"Sometimes, it is," he said, cupped her face, and gently kissed her smooth forehead, "and your opinion always factors into my decisions. You should know that Aro shares the sentiment. He too is in favour of peacekeeping and caution."

"Then perhaps you might find yourself inclined to at least think about changing your mind," she said, not sounding the least bit convinced.

He made a face at her, hoping it would be enough to show her that such mockery was unwelcome and uncalled for. "Atalante…"

"It's all right," she said, waving off. "I know you, my love. I know that once you've tasted blood, there's no stopping you."

Before he could open his mouth to make a suitable reply, there was a crisp knock on the door. "Come on in," he said, his tone sharper than intended.

The door opened and inside stepped Quirina – who these days went by the modern English version of that ancient and proud Roman god's name, Corin – diminutive and thin and dressed entirely in black, which matched her short-cropped dark hair. "Chelsea says it's time we left." She'd always been the quintessential Roman, hadn't she? Blunt and succinct and very much to the point. There was much about her to admire apart from her formidable gift of spreading contentment everywhere she went.

"Very well," he said, and turned to face his wife again. "I'll be back before you know it."

Atalante, however, was sitting by her commode, idly combing her long locks with her precious ivory hairbrush. "I'll be here, waiting," she said, not deigning to look at either him or Quirina.

Sighing inwardly, he picked up his dark-grey scarf, wrapped it around his neck, and marched out of the room, Quirina on his heels. "I can hardly wait to reach our destination," he told her, as they hurried down the dimly lit, ancient stone corridor toward the Grand Hall, the sound of their steps echoing and bouncing off the walls.

"Neither can I," she said, her soft voice emotionless. "Finally, we'll be able to put an end to the werewolf threat."

"Finally," he said, allowing the memory of his last encounter with one of those freaks of nature to repeat itself before his mind's eye ad nauseam, ad infinitum. "We'll wipe them out – all of them."

5 The night passed swiftly, and it was as unspectacular and mundane as every night before it, which seemed almost like a mockery of all the drama unfolding all around them. As the break of dawn approached, Bella stood on the house's gigantic front porch, staring up at the starry sky, seeing the beauty of interwoven colours and twinkling lights without being able to feel any of the wonder this breath-taking sight might evoke in a human being. As a vampire, she could see so much more than before, but found herself unable to enjoy any of it. There was a certain poetic irony to be found in all of this, wasn't there? Not that she cared much. Not that she ever would have, come to think about it.

When Irina stepped up to her right, Bella turned to look at her, saying, "This is probably my last chance to admire the start of a new day, but the experience just leaves me completely cold."

Irina gave her a tired little smile. "Already starting to feel detached from yourself again, after all this living human blood?"

Bella jerkily shook her head. "No. I just realised that I never cared one lick about natural beauty, not even as a human." A little silence ensued. Finally, she said, "Jasper told me that I'll go back to being clumsy and useless and out of control once the effect of the human blood dies down."

"You will. Remember how you didn't know what you were feeling, but what you could feel was overwhelming guilt and pain? That'll happen again, too. It'll all come back, and there's nothing you can do about it if you stop killing people. The humans you drained and ripped apart? You'll feel the weight of their loss badly enough to nearly go mad, but still it won't be enough to cure your thirst for more human blood."

"I don't want to die," Bella said calmly, knowing that her face betrayed no expression. There was no need to simulate anything now, was there? Not here, where she was surrounded by monsters just like herself. She looked up at the night sky again. "Still, I can't help but wonder if the end, should it be in store for me today, won't be deserved. I threw my life away without a second thought. I've murdered innocent people, prey though they might be for us. If we lose today's battle, perhaps this is a sign that there is some justice left in the world."

"Perhaps," Irina said lowly. "We'll find out soon enough."

"We will." Bella motioned at the horizon with a jerk of her chin. "Look. The sun's rising."

6 For Leah, this had been the longest night in the history of long nights. Every second had felt like a day, every minute like a month, every hour like a fucking century. The pain had been unimaginable. She hadn't screamed, but she had writhed, groaned, shaken, tried to phase, tried to run, tried to lose her consciousness. No such luck, though: she'd crawled through every split second of it fully awake, fully aware, feeling as if she was drowning in acid, as if every cell of her body were disintegrating slowly but inexorably. She'd clawed her way out of the anguish with dogged determination, though, reminding herself that all of this needed to be done and that it was worth it, that she was not suffering in vain. Yeah, Yuppie Vamp had helped, too, holding her in place, keeping her from scratching her own face off in her screaming agony, cooling her scorching skin with his ice-block body.

Finally, a million strange aeons later, the pain had started to subside, until finally, she was lying on the cool concrete, drenched in cold sweat and panting, queasy but basically pain-free. Demetri was kneeling by her side, visibly tense, ready to jump at the slightest sign of trouble.

At length, she pushed herself up to her elbows, shaking, willing him not to hoist her into a sitting position without being prompted. "Whew," she said, and whistled, ignoring how badly her stomach churned. "That was one hell of a ride. Please tell me I haven't turned into the first leech-wolf hybrid in the history of misbegotten freaks."

He snickered throatily at that. "There's only one way to find out: you need to phase. But first things first: how do you feel?"

"Like I got the worst hangover in the galaxy," she said, tried to get to her feet, tottered when a thousand stars exploded before her eyes, and didn't complain when he shot up in the blink of an eye and steadied her. Thankfully, though, he backed off the second she managed to stop teetering like a drunk sailor. "Otherwise, ready for action. This wasn't so bad."

The yeah-right look he gave her was priceless, but he kept his thoughts to himself. "Splendid. If you want to try to phase, I'll give you some room and wait outside."

She wiped some sweat off her forehead with the back of her still slightly trembling hand and blinked at him in confusion, before the penny dropped and she had to laugh. "A vampire with manners. There must be hope for the world, yet."

He briefly returned the sunny expression and started heading outside, pulling his sleeves over his hands and crossing his arms. "Please tell me if it's worked the way it was supposed to. Good luck."

"Thanks." She waited until he'd shut the metal door behind himself, before burying her face in her hands and taking a long, deep, quivering breath. Good Lord. Had she really just spent a night in a storage locker with a vampire, working off the venom that he'd bitten into her veins, so that she could turn into wolf-form without being forced to obey her Alpha's commands? If anyone else had ever had a more bizarre 24 hours in their life, they'd better write a damn book about it, because Leah wanted to read that story. "All right, nothing to it," she told herself, feeling a little silly, but a little more grounded in reality again. "Let's see if the magic serum worked."

It was high time, anyhow. Her (well, Irina's) phone told her that it was nearly five a.m. in the morning. Time was running out. The clock was winding down. Today would bring an end to this sorry mess, one way or another.