"I want to see my son!"
Thick smoke choking him as he stumbled through the crowd; "I want to see my son," a woman wailed from somewhere off to the right. "Let me see my son!"
"Please," Mrs. Newton begged from the makeshift prison they had created for her: the business office of Newton's Outfitters. The prison would do little to hold her; the calmness that Jasper projected onto her was the true chains she now wore. Her eyes were a bright red, forehead pressed against the glass. Jasper could smell the delicious blood they had given her from their precious supply; a sweet smell that made his mouth water, even as he stood before the office, arms crossed over his chest, watching her. There was a faint smear of red on her lips. "I want to see my son."
Jasper could feel her confusion as if it was his own: horror at first, mingled in with disgust once they placed blood in a steel thermos for her. And then the confusion came: confusion at not being allowed to see her son, anger that she had been turned against her will. Carlise wanted the new vampire to get used to her enhanced surroundings; Rosaile called bullshit, demanding to tell Mrs. Newton the situtiton when the woman awoke. Carlisle blocked her request by saying it would stress Mrs. Newton far too much. Rosaile and Emmet countered with upturned middle fingers and lovely curse words. And Jasper was put on sentry duty for everyone, emotionally speaking.
What everyone could agree on was Mrs. Newton was far too dangerous to by herself. And that was how Jasper was now presented with this latest clusterfuck.
"Don't ignore me," Mrs. Newton whispered. "Please. Let me see Mike."
"You can't."
Jasper saw the hurt clearly on her face, hell, he felt it, even through his own shields. Mrs. Newton tilted her head to one side, blood red eyes drilling into him. "Why," came the weak reply.
"Because you'd kill him."
"I would never do that! He's my son! My baby!"
Jasper nodded. He knew how close knit the Newtons were: Mike Newton was reeling from the death of his father, from his own mother being turned into a vampire these past few days. No amount of consoling from Emmet or Rosaile, from the blonde haired telepath or Leah or even Charlie Swan could make Mike crack a smile. And the recent rising of his mother (only yesterday) was the mere icing on this horrid thing.
This would not be easy. "You're not human," Jasper said. "As of a few days ago, your heart has ceased beating."
"W-what?"
"You are now a vampire, like us Cullens. You are a danger to yourself and your son; at least for the first month or so. Once you can control yourself-"
"Control myself," she almost shrieked.
Jasper winced inwardly. Perhaps Mrs. Newton wouldn't be pissed at being turned without her permission? If she was easy going enough, that would make ensuring no bloody masscares within the shop far easier. "Carlisle Cullen took the liberty of turning you."
"Fuck that!"
Oh yes, she was pissed.
"Just," Mrs. Newton took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She ran a manicured hand through her short blonde hair. "How could he do that? He had no right!"
"You were dying."
"I don't care if I was turning into a cat! He had no right!" Mrs. Newton bit her bottom lip and for a moment, she looked like a girl. Her shoulders sagged. "How long will I be a danger to him?"
Jasper cleared his throat. He could avoid the question- shift it to Carlisle who had turned her (and in a sense it was his duty to break this kind of news to her) or Jasper could be the bearer of bad news and tell her himself. "At least a month. If you have poor control with your emotions," Jasper shrugged, "it could be anywhere from a few months o a year. But…you have my word. I will not allow you to harm your son."
Her lips curved upwards in a shaky smile. "Thank you," she whispered.
Jasper nodded in response. He wanted nothing more than to stop the building of this little fort, go find the rest of the Black Paradigm, and slaughter them all. At least then, Jasper could have his answer as to whether or not Bella was alive or dead. But logic and tactics dictated that he couldn't go running around in the woods without a definite location. That was an invitation of the highest stupidity.
And Jasper was no fool, or so he liked to think.
"I wish I could cry," Mrs. Newton whispered, her voice rousing him his thoughts. Her smile had faltered. "Just one little tear."
Jasper sighed. "So do I," he confessed.