A/N Because of FF's issues, I was only able to reply to a few reviews from the last chapter. If I didn't get back to you, please know I have read them all, and just wow, you guys, thank you. Truly.

To every single person who reads, whether you comment or not, favourite or pass on by, I appreciate you all more than words can say.

Thanks to my amazing beta, Saritadreaming, for cleaning this up for me. If you find mistakes, those are mine because I tend to make last-minute changes.

. . . . . .

Prey for the Wicked

Chapter 27

Whakawai

. . . . . .

The heat hits Bella like a mallet as she exits the hospital. After the frigid medicinal air, she isn't complaining.

"Are you good?" she asks Leah. "Do you want to wait while I bring the car around?"

"I'm not an invalid, Bella. I can walk." Leah strides ahead, back straight, as though the last few hours never happened. Her hand covering her stomach is the only indication that she isn't as flippant as she sounds.

Bella, anxiety a metronome ticking off each step that takes her away from the avoidance of responsibility, follows. She's taking a huge risk here, and following Leah's instructions isn't going to buy her a get-out-of-trouble card.

At the car, she opens Leah's door for her, ignoring the dirty look she gets in response. On her way to the driver's side, she scans everything in the vicinity, half expecting a shout from security or a doctor advocating for Leah to stay. It'd taken nearly an hour to file the paperwork that allowed Leah to leave against medical advice. It was clear from the multiple stall tactics the nurses employed that they hoped the doctor on call would show up and talk sense into Leah.

The car engine turns over with a purr, and Bella sets the AC to a moderate trickle in deference to Leah. If she had it her way, she'd power down the windows and bathe in the thick heat. The chill of the hospital is clinging to her skin, breaking out a rash of goosebumps on her upper arms and thighs.

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Leah staring at her, all kinds of speculation in her expression.

"How did you know how to do all that?"

"All what?" Bella clutches the steering wheel, antsy.

"Don't play dumb. It isn't cute, and I'm not in the mood."

Jerking her seatbelt into place, Bella fumbles with the latching mechanism. "If you're talking about getting you out of there, I saw it on a Grey's Anatomy episode."

Leah makes a derisive sound in the back of her throat.

"If that's your way of saying thank you," Bella replies dryly, "then you're welcome." She jerks her phone out of her pocket and hands it to Leah. "You need to call your mom."

Leah looks at the phone like it's a snake that bites. "Fine." Her tone isn't agreeable, but she takes it and searches through Bella's contact list for Sue's number. "Let's go," she mutters as the ringtone engages.

Bella puts the car in drive, eager to get Leah home.

. . . . . .

Jake scratches a bead of sweat off his eyebrow. "As much as I'm enjoying this Q and A—and we will be picking it up again real soon—we should head back. Bella and Leah are probably getting pissed by now."

Cullen shoves his hand into his back pocket. Lines of irritation show up above his sweat-free eyebrows. "I left my phone at Isabella's house."

Jake mimics the pocket-digging, coming up empty. "I've lost mine somewhere."

He starts heading in the direction they came from when a wave of dizziness makes the ground under him undulate like a funhouse parody. Cullen's arm comes out of nowhere and keeps him upright, strong and as obnoxiously cool and dry as the eyebrows. Repulsed, Jake pushes the leech away only to find the joints in his knees feel sloppy and unsupportive. The same arm he shoved back saves him from going down on his ass.

"Maybe sitting down for a moment is in order, wolf."

Jake's response is a "fuck off" with no backbone behind it. Thankfully, his equilibrium comes back on board, saving his pride a fraction. "I'm fine." Which is total bullshit but sounds good. He states the obvious. "I need to find my phone."

"It could be back at the house," Edward says. "Your initial lunge at me probably dislodged it from your pocket."

Jake gives his shoulders a tense shrug, hoping for motivation. "Great." With a grunt of effort, he heads in what he thinks is the direction of the house.

Behind him, Cullen remarks, "I've seen this before."

"What?"

"This weakness and lack of coordination, fatigue, etcetera."

The way the vampire says, etcetera, makes Jake want to hit something. He leans against a tree, the smell of pine sap triggering a memory of the Pine Sol he used to scrub the sink at the garage earlier. Was that only a few hours ago? He forces his brain to get back to the program. "Yeah? Do tell." He aims for a mocking tone but doubts it's effective. He feels weird, kind of …?

"Drunk? Feverish?" Cullen chimes in when all Jake gets is blank brain space.

"Get out of my frigging head."

"Your immune system is in supernatural overdrive."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"Your body is healing itself at an accelerated rate. Has this never happened to you before?"

Sluggish memories remind Jake that there's been a time or two in the last few years when cuts and bruises never had any staying power. Out loud, he says, "It's not like I'm just breaking bones left and right." He gives Cullen a pointed look and then uses his dwindling energy to ambulate to the next tree, where he repeats the leaning. His toes feel numb. He stares blearily into the expanse of woodland. "How damn far did you take me? The house should be right over there."

"It's going to get worse before it gets better, Black."

"Yeah?" Jake pushes away and manages a handful of unsteady steps—all the way to the next tree. The bark against his forearm scrapes a raw patch as he uses it to brace his weight. "What makes you an expert?" There's a slur to his words now.

"I observed Ephraim experience it once."

The murky-sweet stench of vampires swims up Jake's nose, letting him know Cullen is back in his proximity.

"Kindly warm me if you're going to vomit. These shoes have taken enough of a beating tonight."

"If I puke, leech, it's cause you're stinking up my air."

The smell dissipates, and Jake grins. "Is that all it takes to get rid of you? Vomit? Remind me to buy some syrup of ipecac." The term comes out sounding more like suup of ipeeack, but he's pretty damn pleased his brain supplied the name at all. Stupid vampire thinks he's so smart. Jake knows a thing or two, too…

Ignoring the quip, Cullen says, "We're nearly a mile from Isabella's. At the rate you're moving, we won't return until dawn."

"Perfect. That's when you go up in a puff of smoke, right? Instant sunlight incineration."

A rustle of leaves and a brush of air offer a temporary cool kiss to the inferno baking Jake's skin. He blinks open one tired eyeball and gets a view of Cullen's back.

"Hold your breath, dog." The vamp's arms extend behind him like he's offering a piggyback ride.

Jake sloppily reels back. "Nooope. No way in hell!"

"Need I remind you, your pregnant girlfriend and my … and Isabella… are waiting for us?"

"Tell me you were not about to say your mate! Bella is not your anything. You know what? Never mind. Just go. Leave me here. I'll catch my breath. I just need a few minutes."

In a blur, Cullen spins around so fast it makes Jake dizzier than ever.

"If you want to avoid your responsibilities, mutt, fine. That is your prerogative. However, leaving you here in your current state is not an option. So, I suggest you cooperate and make this easier on both of us."

"News flash. You don't know me. I am not avoiding responsibility, Count Dracula. I'm just not interested in taking a ride on your back-mobile."

"Clever, and-oh-so-original," Cullen responds, dripping sarcasm. Although, Jake detects a twitch of his lips and wonders if the bloodsucker might actually have a sense of humour.

"Why is leaving me not an option?" Jake asks, genuinely curious.

"I'm not interested in dealing with the hysterics that would ensue if I left you out here to fend for yourself."

Even though the world is spinning like a pirouetting ballerina jacked up on caffeine, Jake grins at the two blurry Cullens avoiding eye contact. "Leah doesn't have a hysterical bone in her body. And the only thing hysterical about Bella is her right hook if you piss her off enough. Ha! That's it. She made you promise at some point not to kill or maim me. You know if you go back without me, she's going to be maaaad." The scalding pain in his throat, like he fellatio-ed a blow-torch, turns the sing-song into a croak.

Cullen narrows his eyes—confirmation in silent form. Jake barks out a laugh that hurts his head and ribs as much as his throat. He cuts it off, choking back a cough of regret. "Well, look at that. The undying Dark Lord is pussy whipped."

Rather than taking offense, Cullen smiles, going all spooky and evil again. "So be it. I'll leave you here." He cocks his head right as the howl of a wolf eerily resonates into the pitch-black night. "Hmm. Sounds like a family meeting is in order. I'm sure they'd love to meet a supernatural descendant. Surely they won't see an injured man and think, easy meal." He sniffs delicately. "If the female black bear with a den not far from here doesn't get here first. There are a few cougars around as well, but you can handle all that, right, pup?"

Jake's heart rate doubles, head swivelling to take in the area around him. Hot, itchy, and feeling worse by the minute, he lets out a string of imaginative curses that would've earned him a bar of soap to his mouth ten years ago. He half expects Mister Uptight and Proper to react to his crass language. When he doesn't, Jake lets out a hard exhale and grudgingly mutters, "Fine."

To give him credit, Cullen doesn't rub it in. He presents his back for the second time and Jake fails to come up with option B.

"The sooner you get on, the sooner we can get this over with. I'm not thrilled to carry you either, Black. You smell like a dog that bathed in a polluted swamp. I'd rather step naked into a burning building."

Realizing Cullen is speaking the truth breaks Jake's frozen state of mobility. He slaps the moist palms of his hands down hard on the vampire's shoulders and launches himself up, plastering his sweaty chest all up close and personal, and wrapping his legs and arms around him in a suffocating clench. In the best falsetto his dehydrated vocal cords can muster, he pseudo-whispers, "All right, tall, dark and corpse-like. Take me away."

Cullen makes a dark sound reminiscent of a hiss, clearly disgusted. Jake is surprised he isn't tossed back down on his ass.

In case the vampire has any ideas, Jake drops the falsetto. "Just so you know, these forearms around your neck aren't just hot and sexy and dusted with manly hair. Jostle me or piss me off, and I'll use them to rip your head off. I'll find you that burning building, Count Chocula. Hell, I'll build the building and light it on fire myself."

Unbothered by the weight, the bloodsucker has the audacity to tighten his grip behind Jake's knees and adjust him like he's a thirty-pound toddler. "Try it, Black. I'll happily introduce you to the nearest cliff overlooking a body of water. There are several in the vicinity. So, unless you want to doggy paddle home, you better hold on tight, spider monkey."

In an instant, the wind is rushing through Jake's hair, and any response he might've made to the spider monkey crap gets pushed aside in favour of clapping his yap shut so he doesn't have to eat bugs. He gives up trying to decipher the whipping-by-him scenery and closes his eyes. The fever takes over his body in earnest. It feels like the flu—if the flu was on steroids and hit the gym for a year.

In a slightly sympathetic tone, Cullen says, "If you need to vomit, aim to the right, away from the direction of the wind."

It's the last thing Jake hears as consciousness goes bye-bye and mercilessly edits out the current humiliation.

. . . . . .

Edward dumps Black on the rickety chair beside Bella's front door. The frame groans under the weight, and Edward can sympathize. Despite his formidable strength, something about the dog's bulk doesn't match the scale.

Head lolling to the side, the whelp continues his somnolent state. Edward debates rousing him, then decides to let him be. He has more pressing desires than to engage in conversation, amusing as the pup has proven to be. The house behind the closed door is silent. The heartbeat and scent that has become a single-minded obsession are absent. Neither does he detect the presence of Leah Clearwater.

His car is gone.

He finds his phone where he tossed it prior to meeting Jake on the lawn. It seems their conflict didn't alarm any neighbours into phoning the police.

A lucky thing, indeed. Dealing with Isabella's father or any of his underlings is another complication he hardly needs.

He checks his messages.

Edward?

I'm with Leah at the hospital. If u r with Jake, bring him here. Rm # 403

Come back to me.

Pressing his fingertips between his eyes, Edward stifles the urge to panic. He focuses on not crushing his phone as he engages a call to Isabella's cell, impatient at what feels like an extraordinarily long wait for the ringtone to begin.

It's Leah who answers. She omits the polite niceties. "If you've hurt Jake in any way, you undead piece of crap, I promise you I will find a way to end you. Maybe it won't be right away, but in a year, or ten, or twenty, however long it takes…"

"Leah, for God's sake, give me the phone." Isabella's voice is music to his ears.

"Where is he? What did you do to him?" Leah's voice, in comparison, is a strident cacophony.

"Leah, stop it. Give it to me…"

Through the subpar working of the current technology, Edward discerns they are in a vehicle, likely his, and they are in motion.

"I have not harmed him, Leah," he replies once she finally takes a breath.

The sound of the car decelerating, the tires hitting gravel, is overlapped by Leah hitting a new decibel. "You better not be lying to me. Put him on the phone."

Edward glances at Black's form, still slumped in the chair, complexion ruddy with a fever slash of heat in each cheek. "You'll have to wait, Leah. Jake is looking for his phone." The lie slips easily out of his mouth. There isn't any point in alarming her. The dog will be fine. Most likely.

"What? Why is he looking for his phone?"

"He dropped it after his rabid attack on me where you were caught in the crossfire. Which I'm assuming resulted in you seeking medical attention. Since you are not currently at the hospital, may I assume you are fine?"

"You can assume to kiss my ass, you—"

Before Leah can form another insult, Isabella cuts her off. "Leah! Calm down. Give me the phone, please."

The shuffling noise of the cell being pried away from Leah is welcome. Not nearly as welcome, however, as the sound of Isabella saying his name.

"Edward."

"Are you well, Isabella?"

"Jake? Is he…"

"Such little faith."

"Don't patronize me."

Edward smiles. The little hell cat attitude assures him more than any reply she could've given. "He's alive and well, lamb. All limbs are present and accounted for. A few bumps and bruises, nothing his shapeshifter biology can't put right in a day or two."

As if in illustration, Black stirs, beginning to regain consciousness from the void of his faint.

Edward steps off the porch and says, "I received your messages belatedly, Isabella. I'm sorry. Are you all right?" He repeats the question she hasn't answered, emphasis on you.

"I'm okay."

"And Leah?"

"Not so much."

"Tell me what you need."

"She didn't want to stay at the hospital," Isabella replies, her tone conveying she feels trepidation at this action. "She's worried the pregnancy won't look normal. I'm driving her home."

Leah interjects. "No. Change of plans. Go to your house. I want to see Jake. I don't believe that vampire for one second."

"Edward has no reason to lie."

Edward likes that Isabella defends him so quickly. However, he isn't surprised the reassurance falls on deaf ears as Leah stubbornly declares, "Drive to your place or so help me, Bella, I will get out and walk there myself."

Edward notes the sound of a car door opening and rolls his eyes to the smattering of stars overhead. He has no desire to deal with the hysterical female. Since it seems his wishes are for naught, he sighs. "Bring her here if she wants to come, Isabella. Unless you believe her physical state to be in immediate jeopardy?"

"Leah, okay! Sit down. We'll go to my house."

To Edward directly, she says, "I have no idea. I'm not a doctor! But she's too worked up to fight. We'll be there in a few minutes."

. . . . . .

As Isabella ends the call, Edward uses his other senses to survey the area, seeking any nearby presence. Finding nothing, the neighbours quiet as mice tucked in their houses, he moves to Black's damaged VW Rabbit. Reaching inside, he puts the car in neutral and rolls it onto the driveway. There isn't much he can do with the torn-up ground, but he does replace the dislodged chunks of grass, wedging them back into the deep rivets the tires created. It temporarily camouflages the damage.

He passes Black on the porch on his way inside, noting that the snoring sounds healthy enough. He's not oxygen-deprived in any way. The pup is having a fever dream in which he appears to be on a beach chatting amiably with a creature vaguely resembling a whale.

As Edward enters Isabella's home, he finds it quiet and stuffy. Despite the absence of her physical presence, her scent remains vivid. The food she cooked earlier tinges the air with a homey feel.

He prowls the rooms, searching for anything amiss. This entire night unsettles him, and he knows he will remain so until she returns to him.

In the bedroom, he finds the silky tie of Isabella's robe on the floor. He picks it up, running the material through his hands. The delicious moments he spent with Isabella a few hours ago, her hands tied with this same fabric, bring a new edge to his mood.

Behind the sweet desire that seers him anew, a sense of impotent rage percolates. Gifts at his disposal were rendered useless because his base nature, needing an outlet, took him from this house to hunt and glut himself on deer, of all things. Blindsided by what he should have seen coming, he didn't protect the most precious thing in his universe.

Drawing on a century of practice, he buries those emotions. They do him no service now. He meticulously folds the tie into a small square and tucks it into his pocket, centering his thoughts. He has decisions to make, and one hell of a mess to put to bed.

Back on the porch, he kicks Black's extra-large, sneakered foot and jars him with a slap to his cheek. "Wake up, dog. Your mate and unborn offspring are on their way. I'd prefer not to deal with a cranky, pregnant female discovering you unconscious after I assured her you are fine."

Black winces, one hand coming up to try and bat Edward away. He blinks blearily and scrunches his face into an impressive scowl. "Damn. You are one annoying S.O.B. Get your undead mitts away from me."

Edward steps back, satisfied, and Black leans forward. Resting his forearms on his ham-hock thighs, he looks around, getting his bearings. "I thought I told you to let me walk here. I swear to all that is holy, Vlad the Impaler, the second I find a wooden cross, I'm going to bitch-slap you with it."

"You've watched too many episodes of Vampire Diaries, cub."

Shaking his head, a slight grudging grin on his lips, Black attempts to stand and fails. "I'm going to need a little help, Damon Salvatore."

"Come on," Edward says, reaching down and pulling him up by his arm. "Let's get you inside. The next stage of your life is about to begin. Teletubbies, Sesame Street, two a.m. feedings, and diaper changes…"

He helps Black inside to Isabella's sofa and dumps him onto it. In the kitchen, he finds beverages and deposits them on the coffee table.

Head in his hands, Black asks with a slur, "What the hell are Teletubbies?"

. . . . . .

"Just so you know," Bella says to Leah, focusing on the road and the touchy steering of the car. "I think this detour is a mistake."

"Noted."

Softening her tone, Bella says, "He wouldn't lie to me."

Leah rolls her eyes. "You are giving him blind faith. And that's stupid."

Bella clenches her jaw to bite back a hostile response. The closer she gets to home, the looser the knots in her concaved insides feel. Her foot keeps pushing on the gas because she wants those knots gone, Leah and Jake, and everyone else, be damned.

Hating that she feels this way, Bella reasons out loud. "It's not blind faith. I do know him. To a point."

"Yeah. I'm sure. I mean, you've known him for what? Two weeks?"

Bella's brain scrambles a bit. Two weeks. One of which she spent alone, recovering from almost dying. Maybe she is stupid. Or maybe she just wants to stop overthinking every damn inch of her life.

Easing up on the gas as she turns onto her street, Bella asks, "What did you mean earlier, right before Jake tried to attack Edward? You said something about me being Edward's… mate?"

Leah smirks. "You don't know?

"Would I ask if I did?" Irritated, Bella steers the car carefully onto her driveway, puts it in park, and yanks the keys out of the ignition. Butterflies riot in her stomach and make it hard to stay seated. She finds herself biting the inside of her lip until it stings.

Leah's hand is already on the door handle, but she pauses and gives Bella a measuring look. "I'm not going to pretend I know a ton about vampires. But I do know this. Legend says that when they fall in love, it's a one-time deal. Like a stroke of fate that ties two bloodsuckers together for eternity."

Bella, shaking her head in relief at the explanation, replies quickly, "That has nothing to do with us, Leah. In case you forgot, I'm human so it doesn't fit. Oh, and love isn't in this equation—trust me."

"Well, let's find out, shall we? If Jake is alive, I'm right."

"How does that prove anything?"

Leah ignores the question and gets out of the car while Bella scrambles to do the same. Together, they stop to stare at the closed front door.

Instantly, she feels the pull—a physical sensation so strong it hurts to keep her feet rooted in place. She knows it isn't natural, but that doesn't mean she can accept what Leah says. "Jake's alive because I asked Edward not to hurt anyone I care about. Whatever else he is, he isn't irrational. That and he has no reason not to respect the treaty. It's not voodoo-type mating crap, okay?"

Leah looks at her, and the fear in that gaze sends shivers down Bella's spine. "I hope to God you're wrong, Bella. He might respect the treaty, but other vampires won't. It's only a matter of time before more of his kind show up. And when they do, there's no hope for any of us, including this baby."

Bella swallows over a sudden lump in her throat. "And if you're right? How is that better?"

The smile Leah gives doesn't reach her eyes. She turns her face back to the house, speculatively. "If anyone tries to hurt you or yours, the vampire inside that house will go postal. That puts us on the right side of any bloodbath that's coming. And in the end, the right side is all that matters."

An image of Mike swims to the forefront of Bella's thoughts, an icy stroke of fear stealing away any rational dispute to Leah's claim. The term bloodbath finds its way from her ears to her stomach, landing like lead and gasoline.

Leah cocks her head and nods. "Yeah. You know I'm right, don't you?" She doesn't wait for an answer, striding toward the house without hesitation.

Behind her, Bella grudgingly gives her credit for having nerves of steel. She follows, nowhere near as brave, her mind racing as fast as her heart.