Vegas is a city that never sleeps, just as they say. It is perfectly suited to our kind, perfectly suited to long hours spent on the streets, the aimless wandering of a restless mind. I am back where I belong, at the side of my lovely wife. I wanted to go to Mexico, wanted to pick a fight with Maria to unleash some of this anger and grief. When I hit Oklahoma, I turned back. As it turns out, my missing Charlotte outweighed my desire for a no holds barred, no strings attached fight with that Southern devil. I went back to her, flew into her arms, and promptly found out how big a mistake my leaving had been.

Without my knowledge, the love of my existence had been taken from me. Another Southerner with a grudge, a too powerful vampire named Cassian, had snatched Charlotte, creeping up on her in the moment she let her guard down. She should have been able to let her guard down, should have had that moment to completely relax, to think, to grieve. Instead, she was thrust into terror and something I would have called betrayl before all this. Charlotte refused to help Cassian in his attempt to re-claim territory in the South. He was looking for veterans, those who had seen battle before, who would know how to follow orders, how to give them. She told him Jasper was still in Forks.

It bothered me at first, knowing my wife had turned Jasper in, until I remembered his skill at hand-to-hand combat. I almost called him, intending to issue a warning, at least let him know what might be coming for him. Had his combat readiness died so swiftly in his time of following such a strange way of life? Even if it had, he would recieve a warning in advance thanks to his own mate. Alice.

Of that entire bizarre group, Alice was the only one I’ve never spoken out against. She was Jasper’s mate, his wife, his other half. That alone protected her, kept her off my radar, and kept her out of harm. I knew that, had the situation ever called for it, I would have willingly protected her, protected any of them, because they were important to him. Not anymore. I want nothing more to do with any of them. Its time to sever these ties completely.

Vegas is wonderful, a thrilling place to be when surrounded by other nomads. I need to start doing more with the group. That will give me less time to think. I’ve kept my promise as much as possible, staying with Charlotte while letting her enjoy herself and have her own space. Its time to move past all this insanity and get back to the way things are supposed to be.

Things have been so crazy lately. I’ve been in a total daze the past day. Now, I’m running. A plan has formed, something to deaden the pain, something to distract me, something to replace the pain. Unlike everything he’s done, I’m not running away. I’m running headfirst, eyes open, directly into the tongues of flame. Right now, the act doesn’t matter. There is nobody here to see the pain flash across my face. There will be no one there when I reach my goal. Even if they track me, I have too good a head start.

I wonder if I’m currently on the same self-destructive path we accused him of being on. If so, perhaps I no longer blame him. This pain is too much, running through me like blood. I need a distraction large enough to make some of it go away. I can’t act anymore. I don’t need to.

Charlotte, I love you. You are my life, my soul, my heart. I will come back to you. Don’t follow me.

Charlotte and I are spending time with Malakai and Marek, friends of ours from Miami.  I think they just want to make sure we’re not completely crazy after our cryptic messages and subdued moods.  We’re both doing what we have to: reacting when we’re addressed directly, keeping at least one ear on the conversation, and more than anything, holding one another.  I’m being very careful to maintain physical contact with my mate as much as we can decently get away with amongst friends.  More nomads are joining us soon, some of whom I’ve never met.  That will make it harder.

I know it’s foolish, this hungering for physical touch, even if we’re just holding hands.  I want so much more, want to touch and kiss every inch of her skin.  I want to wrap my arms around her and never let go.  Perhaps if I hold on tightly enough, I can reassure myself she’s still here, still with me.  Charlotte would never leave me, I know…but there was a time we swore we’d never leave Jasper.  If I can sever that bond, cut that tie so completely…

My mask is in place a good portion of the time.  I keep a relaxed smile on my face, but I know my wife isn’t fooled and I doubt Malakai or Marek are duped by it either.  The mask slips too often as grief and anger and confusion compound, mixing with denial and some version of truth.  Every time it slips, I see it in their eyes.  Those are the moments Charlotte will reach out and touch me.  That is when my focus will return and I’ll begin taking care of her, returning her touch.  We’ll just sit like that a few seconds, Malakai and Marek not noticing or pretending they don’t notice as we look into one another’s eyes in a moment of shared pain.  When we break eye contact, I automatically pull her to me, wanting to feel her body against mine, needing her scent to remind myself she really is there.

If we did the right thing in leaving, would it hurt so badly?  My heart hasn’t beat in seventy years; these days, it feels as if it has been ripped from my chest.  I’m trying to hide it for Charlotte’s sake, trying not to allow her or any of the others to see the pain I’m in – such a tiring thing to do.  Maybe that’s why I keep slipping: I’m tired of putting on an act.  I just want to put this mess behind me and forget about it.  I’m sure Charlotte feels the same way.  Sometimes, our eyes meet and she looks just as drained as I feel.  We’re both putting on acts these days.  Given time, maybe that act can become the norm, the role slipping over us and covering us like a cloak, hiding the soon to be distant pain.  Charlotte and I have never been apart before.  I’m not sure I could handle any separation from her now, though it may be the only way I’ll feel free enough to let go and grieve.

Back to the act.  Adieu.

- Peter Devereaux

Well, its done.  Jasper’s on the mend after being unable to feed for over a week.  Turns out the area he was in was a dump for radioactive waste.  Exposure to nuclear waste caused his cells to begin splitting before venom could fully heal the damage, allowing the needle to pierce his flesh.  At least that’s how I heard it.  That hardly matters now.

Yesterday, he made a break for the woods.  Understandable.  I can only imagine how the thirst scorched him, a need demanding to be met.  Charlotte and I saw him and decided to follow; although I don’t understand or agree with Jasper’s choices, I hardly want to see him slip in this odd diet he’s chosen to live by.  I can only imagine what that might do to him, to his…family.  We stopped him.  We had to talk, had to get answers, but more importantly I had to get him back to normal.

Carlisle, no doubt, would’ve continued to wait while Jasper grew weaker and weaker.  In Maria’s coven, venom was used regularly as a way to help cure wounds.  It truly can work miracles; if you know where to bite, which angle to hold the limb at, etc. vampire venom can reattach limbs and then some.  I bit him.  With all the well-meaning intentions in the world, I bit Jasper.  He understood immediately, holding still as the venom burned through his body.  His bouts of purging were hardly helping him to heal; he simply didn’t have enough venom in his system to fight the toxins.  I helped him; I helped the Cullens get him back as he should have been.

Jasper couldn’t answer our questions.  I’m sure he would deny it, but he gave us no answers when we asked about his recent behaviors.  Crashing a Jaguar, wrapping it around a tree, is not normal for him.  Snapping at me, the one he claims is his best friend, is neither normal nor is it acceptable.  Things have been stressful for his coven, his family, but he didn’t seem to understand the trail of self-destruction he seems to be walking.  That more than anything convinced me: Charlotte and I are no longer, have never been, members of Jasper’s family.

Once he left us, once he met Alice and joined the Cullens, once he changed so much, the ties between us were severed.  Everything changed between the three of us.  We started arguing more than we talked.  We used our powers on one another without consideration or hesitation, a flagrant disregard for our once long-standing moratorium.  Things have been knocked off balance between the three of us.  Nothing is as it once was and too much has changed for us to ignore any longer.

Charlotte and I have left Jasper.  I have no intention of ever going back to the golden-eyed coven of vegetarians or the blonde soldier amongst them that I’ve known for so many years, who I once considered to be a brother.  Instead, my mate and I will return to the life we’re supposed to live.  We’re nomads.  We feed from humans and depend on our prey for everything from sustinence to clothing to money.  Perhaps, with enough distance, I can ignore this ache that has settled in my body, this unseen specter that keeps telling me to turn around.  I’d try not to let Charlotte see, but we are never apart.  My wife can read my every expression and gesture just as I can decipher hers.  I know she is hurting as well.  I’m sure she’s asking some of the same questions I am, but, as the saying goes: time heals all wounds.

I hope the epithet applies to this situation as well.  For now, I will stay with my wife and we will roam the country, giving Forks a wide berth.  Perhaps we’ll avoid Washington altogether.  Perhaps not.  Only time will tell.

- Peter Devereaux

The following story is not mine to tell.  I am simply playing the obedient servant, the faithful friend, a mirror and filter in one.  Jasper Nathaniel Whitlock Cullen Hale, my creator, my commanding officer, my best friend, my brother, has been in the midwest since April 22nd.  He arrived this morning, all but dropping from the sky before me, and asked me to transcribe his story.  Now that he has rested, I’m fulfilling his request.  The following words, italicized, are his.  My own thoughts will be presented in plain text and hopefully will show up as little as possible.

I know you have questions.  I know everyone has questions.  Where have I been?  Why did it take so long to get back?  Why didn’t I keep in touch?  Why is my scent suddenly unfamiliar?  Why haven’t I fed yet?  Please trust that I will answer what I can here and now.  I ask for your patience; I haven’t completely organized my thoughts.  By rights its possible I shouldn’t even be here now.

My story starts quite simply from the moment I left you.  My story starts with running.  Not once did I slow or stop, as if trying to outrun my own feelings.  As I ran, I felt so much turmoil, so much un-recognized anger.  I kept remembering the fight I’d had with Emmett, the harsh words we exchanged. I watched Jasper’s hand move to trace a scar, presumably the one Emmett had given him.  Those words don’t matter so much anymore, but they echoed over and over in my mind, as if to beat me into the ground.  I kept seeing her face, probably because I’ve always made an unconcious connection between anger and Maria’s world in the South.  The newborns lived on anger, fueled by it as completely as they were fueled by their overwhelming thirst.  It was that level of anger, something so all-encompassing it bordered on rage, that rose within me as I ran.  I couldn’t outrun it, of course.  That is impossible.

By the time I finished running, everything was silent.  It was the silence that prompted me to stop, to stay.  The valley was peaceful, ringed by trees, with a few wildflowers peering through the blades of grass.  I was completely alone, far enough out that the only emotions within range of my powers were my own.  I stayed for quite a long time, not concerned with exactly where I was or how long I might linger.  I claimed I was waiting for sunset, the blazing sun overhead sending the usual sparkles dancing across the facets of my skin.  Because I was alone, because I sensed no other beings in the area, I didn’t care.  I simply lay back in the field and started thinking.  That feeling of peace, that silence…it was wonderful until the wind shifted.

I didn’t expect the other scent.  Sweetness, bitterness, death; it was the scent of the newborn.  I got to my feet, chastising myself for such an easy mistake as I began to track it.  The scent was everywhere.  The further from the valley I moved, the stronger the scent got.  Every tree I passed held that scent, altered a dozen different subtle ways all mingled together.  This wasn’t just one newborn.  As I moved further in, now sure I was on enemy territory, I was more careful, watching the movement of every shadow, listening for any voices that might be carried on the wind.  The only scent around me, on all sides, was newborn.  Nowhere was there any trace of a mature vampire, a leader.

It made no sense at all.  If there were newborns, why was there nobody there commmanding them?  If they had a commander, why was there no scent?  The trails crossed and criss-crossed apparantly at random all through the trees.  I was deep in the wilderness when the first hissing voices came through the trees.  “What is your business here, scarred one?”  “This land is ours, yellow eyes.”  I tried not to growl.  “I’m only passing through.  I’ll be on my way now if you’ll allow me to leave in peace.” At this point, Jasper quietly excused himself, moving faster than he had since we’d come here.  I didn’t see it coming as my brother flew to the bathroom of the hotel suite.  I heard him groan, heard liquid hitting liquid, smelled fresh blood.  “Jasper?”  Another groan as the wet sounds repeated themselves.  When he came out, he leaned against the doorframe, black eyes glittering.  “Jasper, what happened to you?”  I realized the fear in my voice, but didn’t try to hide it.  He groaned, shaking his head as I helped him back to the bed.  He continued his story as if there had been no interruption.

Before I could get away, I was surrounded.  Fourteen snarling newborns dropped from the trees and moved in, tensed to spring. I began fighting automatically, the first to reach me losing his head.  I don’t know how long the battle lasted.  All I knew were snarls and growls, tearing limbs and bared teeth.  Finally, it came to flames.  I still had a lighter in my pocket from the day my brothers and I fought Chelsea.  After setting the fire, I watched, gathering up the bodyparts and carefully burning them.  I stayed there, watching, making sure no stray hands crawled out or anything like that.  As the fire crackled, I watched until footsteps approached.

Humans.

I’d never stopped to think of how quickly human firefighters might respond in rural areas.  I couldn’t escape.  After throwing my cell phone and my wallet on the flames, I lay down and stopped breathing, keeping my eyes shut.  The footsteps surrounded me, their voices crying out in panic.  One of them knelt, touched my neck, checking for a pulse.  Once they realized the body there was dead, couldn’t be saved, they set to putting out the flames.  By their reactions, it was clear no identifiable body parts were left amongst the ashes.  They put me in a body bag and loaded it into a vehicle.

During the trip, I heard their theories.  I’d been killed, asphyxiated, by whatever was burning in the fire.  Their examination had been cursory; no doubt my proximity to the fire kept them from realizing the chill of my skin.  They believed I’d lit the fire, not knowing what I was doing.  There wasn’t much more said, the vehicle’s engine rumbling steadily down the street.  I felt as they unloaded me, putting the bag on a stretcher.  Even through the thick material, I could smell human blood, antiseptic, cleanser.  I heard voices everywhere.  It seemed everyone we passed was in pain, angry, tired, or grieving.  Doors opened; we were moving past the emergency room where patients cried out and doctors gave orders.

In the hospital’s small morgue, the body bag was unzipped.  I stayed motionless as they lifted me, taking in the shallowest of breaths.  The only living beings in the room were the three moving my body.  The scents here weren’t medicinal; on the contrary, they stank of death and disinfectant, impersonal scents. Jasper stopped then, completely still and silent.  After about ten minutes, I looked to Charlotte, who nodded and closed her eyes.  I heard her whispering under her breath, using her power to convince Jasper to keep talking.  Slowly, he obeyed, hesitating over the first several words before he was convinced.  Then, the story poured out almost faster than I could write it, his voice a low buzz.

Something pierced my skin, hot and cold at once as I forced myself to keep still.  I doubted the humans were paying any attention, but couldn’t be sure.  I felt the slow burn as it moved through my veins, worse than venom.  If venom is fire, then this was acid, eating slowly away at my self control, burning through my veins slowly and completely.  It felt as if my body was being eaten rather than just burned, my veins melting as the chilling liquid continued to move.  I had to keep still, had to swallow quickly as venom rose in my mouth, my body trying to purge the unfamiliar compound.  I couldn’t.  Not now.  Not with humans standing on either side of me, taking their notes, talking about how I’d died, noticing my scars as I lay under a too-bright light.

“What the hell happened to this guy?”  “Survivor of one hell of an attack.”  “Or a lot of attacks.”  “Adrenaline junkie?”  “Crazy.”  “Dangerous.”  Yes, dangerous.  Dangerous to them.  Their warm scents drew me in and, at the same time, for the first time in my entire existence, repelled me.  I knew that the invading acid-like chemicals that burned through my body and altered my scent would not allow me to quench my thirst.  For the first time in nearly two decades, I didn’t want the blood I smelled but I needed it so badly that I ached.  They continued their mindless chatter, speculating over the life of the body before them.  “No ID on him.”  “Think our John Doe has a family?”  “Police are checking missing persons reports.”  Family…  If they were looking for me, my trail would lead them directly into enemy territory.  If that happened, if they crossed paths with whomever I hadn’t found, the controller of the newborns I’d destroyed…

The room emptied, each of the humans in turn making an excuse to leave.  I realized then that I was sending out my own discomfort, my pain and panic, for them to pick up.  I didn’t care.  With the room empty, I darted up and ran to the sink, pulling the tube from my arm in one swift movement.  My footsteps faltered as I fumbled, unable to walk straight.  I leaned over the sink and heaved.  Up came a mixture of venom, blood, and chemicals.  I had to get back.  I couldn’t be weak, couldn’t stumble.  There was no time.  Back to the steel table I went, resisting the urge to double over.  The purging had not been enough, a dull burn still present in my veins that I knew would only get worse.

The medical staff around me joked and talked easily as they worked; they were friends, willing to remain light-hearted in spite of their grim profession.  One of them, Dr. Neilson, was clearly in charge.  He came up with theories for the other two, Adam and Lisa, to agree with.  He didn’t know what he was talking about.  Adam had a grudging admiration for him; I got the feeling he’d once seen Neilson as a mentor and was disappointed of the changes in the man.  I smelled disease on the older man.  He was dying.

Lisa seemed to know what she was talking about.  She spoke with an assurance, a confidence, neither of the men had.  I got the feeling she viewed this as her domain, no matter what title she did or didn’t hold.  She knew her job, knew it well.  Her theories were spoken in a softer tone, more confidence there as well.  She respected Neilson, but knew to take his suggestions with a grain of salt, knew how to cushion the blow or verbally guide him in such a way that he thought the correct procedure had been his idea.  She was very clever, very observant.  Her theories of my life were closest to being correct.

“He’s married.”  She touched my wedding ring; I felt a light surge of love and wondered if she wore a ring of her own.  “He looks so young…  Maybe he got the scars as a child.”  “How did this IV slip?”  There was a soft exhale as the needle failed to pierce my skin.  “New needle, please.”  The pierce again, deep as fangs, the burning acid eating through my body.  I fought the urge to open my eyes, to see if my skin was being eaten away by this acidic mixture of chemicals.  “Scalpel.”

That word brought my focus back.  The sound of metal on metal was almost too much, a threat I couldn’t react to in any physical way.  I knew that a blade would not, could not cut into my skin.  Focusing, I tried again to drive them away, to make them leave.  It was harder to focus, harder to ignore the burning, the venom in my mouth as my body tried again to purge itself of the chemicals.  Finally, I succeeded, sending them away once more.  Another fast move to the sink, before I had a chance to examine my surroundings.

The room was brightly lit and filled with medical tools.  Steel tables, a drain in the floor, surgical masks, gloves, I even saw a bio-hazard suit.  My vision was swimming, my limbs unsteady.  I slipped out the door, not making eye contact with any humans that dared to stay near once they became aware of the feelings I was emitting.  Guilt, grief, anger, confusion, anything to keep them at bay, to keep them from catching a glimpse of me.  As soon as I got out, as soon as I was far enough, I started running, ignoring all of it.  My unsteady limbs, the acid burn that changed my scent, my inability to focus.  I thought of home and I ran.  When I tried to feed, it did not good, the blood staying in my body no longer than an hour before I had to purge again.  The chemicals they had introduced didn’t agree with my system at all.  With each purge, the burn came back.  I didn’t care.  I wanted to come home.

He got quiet then, watching as I finished typing.  Leaning back, he looked from me to Charlotte.  “I want to go back to my family.”  I knew he felt my discomfort and knew it annoyed him as he rolled his eyes and growled.  He wasn’t in a good mood.  “I want to go back to Alice,” he amended, still sounding tired.  He knew Alice was the one member of his coven I would never speak against because she was his mate.  I nodded quietly and agreed to take him home.

Now, with my end of the deal fulfilled and Jasper in my debt, its time to get him to Forks.  I’m sure they’ve missed him.  He seems happier than when he left, despite the edgy tension the time in the hospital seems to have instilled in him.  Soon enough, I know my brother will relax again, but for now old habits are coming back.  He’s keeping his back to the wall, watching every move Charlotte or I make.  This will be an interesting few days.  I’m almost glad I won’t be there to watch.

Welcome home, Jasper.  I’m glad you’re still in one piece.

- Peter Devereaux

I never saw this coming.  If you’d told me five days ago I’d be doing this, I might have laughed in your face.  What has happened?  Well, it all started when Jasper showed up.  He came out of nowhere, dropping soundlessly from a tree as if he’d just strolled up to me for a visit, as if he hadn’t been gone for five days.  I was surprised – I hadn’t recognized his scent.  Automatically, I found myself doing something I never thought I would do: looking into my brother’s eyes and feeling relieved not to see any red there.

His gaze was dark, desperate, pleading; he smelled of blood and humans, his own scent almost completely hidden by something I could only identify as medical.  The clothes he wore were torn and stained, unrecognizable as the outfit he’d had on when he left, feet bare.  “Where the hell have you been?”  I couldn’t stop the question any more than I could stop my arms from reaching out and pulling him close.  “Everybody’s been worried sick!”

Jasper smiled wearily, a small chuckle dying in his throat.  “Peter, I have two favors to ask.  Please…help me rest.”  I tensed, knowing what my brother was asking.  Many vampires bring extra abilities with them into eternity.  I happen to be one such being.  By maintaining physical contact with any subject, mortal or immortal, my victim will grow tired.  The longer my hand rests on them, the more tired they will grow.  Humans can slip into a coma after they’ve naturally fallen asleep if I wish it.  At one time, I accidentally knocked Jasper out with a concentrated dose of this power – there was talk of brain damage afterward.

This was a serious request Jasper was making.  We had a long-standing moratorium regarding our powers.  We simply didn’t use them on one another, yet here he stood asking me to do precisely that.  I’m sure he sensed my hesitation and knew I could only be grateful that he didn’t do anything to change it.  “Peter…please.”

“Alright.  Wherever you want to go.  What’s the second favor?”  I was instantly leery, wondering what had changed my brother’s scent, what had prompted him to ask such a thing of me.  His smile grew, almost becoming a laugh.  “I’ve…got a story to tell you.  I want you to write it for me.”  He went on explaining in his quiet voice, saying he wanted the story of wherever he’d been to be put up some way that would allow him to share it with his coven – he said “with my family” – without having to repeat himself.  As I stood there, listening, drinking in the familiar cadence of his voice, I understood he wanted it to go through a second set of ears before presenting the tale to the rest of his coven.  Perhaps he wanted to make sure he would be believed.

That is what got me here, sitting in a hotel room, typing with one hand.  My other hand is resting on Jasper’s shoulder, keeping him out – the closest to true sleep any vampire can ever get, I’m sure.  Once he wakes, I will begin transcribing his story, just as he requested.  Charlotte is here to serve as a mediator.  As Jasper put it, she’ll be “keeping [me] honest” and be sure I remain as invisible as possible.  The following is my brother’s story, not mine.  As soon as he has finished telling it, I intend to hand-deliver him back to Forks, directly to Dr. Cullen and his wife.

Jasper, if any being but you had asked, the answer would’ve been no.  You owe me.

- Peter Devereaux

The past few days have served well as a definition for insanity.  Things seem to be falling apart across the vampire world.  A member of the Volturi allegedly went to La Push, where the Quileute Indians reside.  This land is prohibited to any of our kind because the Quileute shape-shifters are our enemies.  Although the Cullens have a treaty in place with the pack, I’ve found it much better to avoid the area.  Chelsea, the vampire who travelled from Volterra, Italy to La Push, Washington for reasons known only to her, ended up setting herself aflame when the pack attempted to chase her out.  As I heard it, Jasper and his brothers, Edward and Emmett Cullen, finished the job of tearing her apart.  After this unexpected and unusual turn of events, Jasper warned Charlotte and I both away from Forks until we heard from him.  What could I do but agree?

Things got worse.  A day or two following Chelsea’s death, Jasper and Emmett were wrestling, burning energy from the recent psuedo-execution they’d taken part in.  Acting on instinct, Emmett bit Jas and words were exchanged, words I’d never dare say aloud, particularly to Jasper’s face.  The insults grew, each word sharper than the last, until Jasper finally took off.  I finally heard about all this today.

Jasper called me, saying he wanted to talk, and we arranged to meet.  He was sitting behind the wheel of a Jaguar, the silver car all but gleaming.  I had to stop staring when he pulled me into the vehicle and we spun out of the parking space, the spedometer needle climbing as the car screamed down the coast.  I waited, watching my brother’s hands tight on the wheel.  We’d been driving in silence for ten minutes when I pointed out that he’d asked me here to talk.  When he brushed it off, I knew something was wrong.  When he inexplicably wrapped the Jaguar around a tree, I crawled out, torn by indecision.  Either I waited for him to crawl out and made sure he was alright or I started tearing him apart for whatever had entered his head to prompt that stunt.  My indecision won out in the end, giving Jasper time to pull himself free of the vehicle.

What had he done?  What on Earth might have prompted him to send us parasailing in a Jaguar?  His flippant response that the tree was easier than finding a body of water brought me up short.  For once, I wished I had his power, wished I could know what he was feeling.  He started talking then, both of us standing beside the remains of the once beautiful sports car, ignoring it completely.  After his fight with Emmett, Rosalie and her mate had begun to argue.  Emmett had asked for divorce papers, which Jasper delivered despite his qualms.  Emotions in the house were running high and it was all too much.

I gave him the only advice I could, suggesting he leave.  If he could get away from everyone else’s feelings, he would be free to work through his own hurt and then, with personal feelings set aside, he would be free to return home and help the others of his coven work through their issues.  Now, he has taken my advice – with some assistance from my wife.  Life might actually be getting back to normal around here…or so one can always hope.

Adieu, my readers.

- Peter Devereaux

Following my promotion, life with Maria fell into routine.  I watched as Jasper obeyed Maria’s every whim, his scarred body always ready to kneel to her, to do her bidding.  How long had he been here, serving her so loyally, so completely?  He would give me no clear answers and I eventually stopped asking.  I admired my commanding officer, idolized his unquestioning loyalty to our leader.  Maria, in contrast, I did not understand.  Jasper wasn’t much help there either; apparantly, questions were forbidden in this new world.  All I could do was try and show the same devotion and loyalty to Jasper that he showed to Maria.

One day, following a fierce battle which we won, Jasper entered the main room of the compound, looking almost ashamed.  Maria didn’t so much as glance at him or the stranger at his side.  Keeping his head bowed, his voice rough, he ordered the stranger to join us.  “Peter, you have a new recruit.  Start training her immediately.”  “Yes, sir.”  My response was prompt, the words nearly pulled from me as I recognized his impatience and Maria’s anger.  Why?

Once the newborn reached me, I immediately understood.  Long blond locks pulled away from crimson eyes, the scent of a dying body still clinging to every breath, my newest soldier was a woman.  A quick glance upward, to our commanders, told me all I needed to know.  Maria’s gaze may well have been enough to bring fire to engulf Jasper on the spot.  This would be a fascingating day.  Rather than explain anything, I ordered her outside, somewhat surprised at the ease of her compliance.  Once we were far from the compound, Maria’s orders to the rest carried on the wind, I told her everything, taught her to fight.  We stayed out there, Charlotte receiving benifit of my full attention, for days.  By the time Jasper called us back, it was clear most of the tension had blown over.  Charlotte’s presence brought on a new problem.

As the only female in the compound besides Maria herself, fighting increased amongst the troops.  Everyone had been drawn in by the charms of this apparantly demure Southern belle; everyone wanted her attention.  Many simply wanted her body.  In the early days, I became her protector, doing all I could to ignore that instinct to tear apart whichever newborn had recently tried to force himself on her.  Neither Jasper nor Maria commented on the loss of lives, simply replacing those that were destroyed.  The day I saw Maria, watching from afar as we practiced sparring, speaking quietly to Jasper, her gaze on Charlotte, I tried hard to listen.  Concern came immediately; would they destroy her?  Charlotte’s presence had changed much of my demeanor.  Being around her, easily claiming time alone to speak privately with her, was part of what kept me sane.  I waited, hardly noticing my partner’s blows glancing off my torso, and released a breath I hadn’t known I was holding as Maria nodded and Jasper replied.  Even from this distance, I knew what he had said.  “As you wish, Maria.”

Knowing that Charlotte would not be destroyed, watching her prove herself in battle, was enough for me.  No longer did I watch her so carefully, only intervening when one of the men refused to take no for an answer.  Things were slipping into routine again, but everything was different because she was there.  As it always seemed to, everything changed soon enough.  I was moving through the compound, ready to report on the progress the newborns had been making, when Maria’s voice stilled me just outside her door.  Since becoming a vampire, my language skills had improved considerably.  I understood every cursed word, saw Jasper knelt before her, fresh bite marks visible through his torn shirt.  “Their strength is dropping.  It’s time to cleanse.  Do it tonight, Major.  Destroy them all.”  I fled, thanking whatever gods may still exist or care for me that neither of them had been aware of my presence.  My silent heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a vise as I frantically worked the math in my head.

It was true.  All of the troops, Charlotte included, had just passed their year mark at least.  The strength of newborn vampires only lasted so long and it was only while that strength remained that they were any use to Jasper and Maria, whom I’d come to think of as two halves of one whole over the years.  I did not expect Jasper to come for me that night.  Would I be killed as well?  No, I quickly learned.  I was expected to help rip and burn the bodies of my brothers in arms while they lived.  Jasper’s moves were automatic, his attacks sure and strong, his eyes dead.  How many times in the past had he done this?  I had no idea.  As the endless night wore on, I tried to plead a few cases, tried to save a few lives.  My best efforts did no good.  “Maria gave orders.  We spare none.”  Jasper was unshakable.  I grew more anxious, unable to save any of them, until the moment he called her name.  “Charlotte.”

She came in, looking so trusting and sweet I might have cried, her eyes darting and nervous as the smell of the burning pyre behind us grew stronger.  Jasper paced between us, leonine and dangerous.  As he smiled at her, my resolve to stay silent broke.  “Charlotte, run!”  I crashed into Jasper, growling, just barely registering the sound of her running feet.  She had obeyed.  Jasper seemed stunned.  The fact that he didn’t truly fight me surely saved my life that night.  As soon as I could, I ran out through the door, listening for sounds of pursuit.  Charlotte, still fleeing, only slowed when I took her hand, when she recognized my scent.  As we crossed the unmarked border of Maria’s territory, I looked into her eyes and spoke three words I finally knew to be true.  “I love you.”

Together, we ran, going to the North.  Maria would not follow us here.  Once we were safe, we took a look around, two young vampires in an unfamiliar world.  Life in the North was so different, the cloud cover allowing us to be out in the day.  We kept to ourselves, only going amongst humans to feed.  There was no fighting here; there were no soldiers.  We had found peace.

After five years with Charlotte, each of us posing as human backpackers and stealing what we needed from our victims, my thoughts turned back to the South.  That life had been hurting Jasper, ensnared by Maria’s will for who knew how long.  We went back for our friend.  After a single conversation, he followed us to our new home, not looking back once.  For nearly a year, I respected his privacy, not speaking with him about the world he had left and helping him adjust to the world we had discovered.  Peace never lasts until all tension is gone.

We met in an explosion, nothing like the reunion between friends one might expect to see.  Accusations and harsh words flew, eventually accompanied by fists.  Once we had released enough anger, we began to speak civilly again, exchanging apologies.  He apologized to Charlotte as well.  That night, sitting beside my brother with the woman I loved curled in my arms, I asked Charlotte to marry me.  On March 9, 1950, we were wed.  With no wish to re-live my human marriage or be reminded of it, I was glad to take my wife’s last name.  Refusing the position of best man, Jasper served as witness to the simple ceremony.  We exchanged vows in the early evening while the local justice of the peace complained over the lack of light.  I barely heard him, eyes only for my mate, my wife, my Charlotte.

Life was blissful, peaceful, even after Jasper left us to find his own path.  Feeding from humans was too much for his empathetic abilities; it drove him into regular depressions.  I left him to it and he swore to keep in touch.  The next letter I got from him was astounding, a hand delivered note put into the mailbox of the courthouse I’d been married at.  He wrote from Philadelphia and had just met Alice.  They were traveling together to locate a family of vampires who lived solely from the blood of animals.

Eventually, Jasper found the Cullens and settled down with his new mate.  He had his peace, I had mine.  We keep in touch on a semi-regular basis, exchanging letters, phone calls, and e-mails.  Anytime we’re near Forks, Charlotte and I will visit with him for several days.  My brother has changed, keeping up a silly masquerade as he denies his baser instincts and his longing for human blood.  I keep my mouth shut and leave him to it, enjoying every minute of existence as long as Charlotte is by my side.

Sugarcane, I love you.

Dear readers, I hope you have enjoyed my tale.

- Peter Devereaux

After I was changed, Jasper introduced me to my new life.  I had become an immortal soldier acting in the service of Maria Vasquez, the unquestioned conquerer of Monterrey, Mexico.  For the first several weeks, I was under Jasper’s tutelage and became his shadow.  He taught me how to hunt, how to fight.  He showed me his scars and told stories of others, newborns who had refused to fight, and what had happened to them.  I took to the new training well, lessons growing crowded as more newborns joined us.  Jasper moved like a bolt of lightening, dangerous and clearly skilled, his scarred body earning instant respect if not obedience.

One day, about five weeks into my training, I remember Jasper ordering everyone to fall back, to run for the trees or the compound.  The order had come out of nowhere, his voice a high-pitched warning that gave way to snarls.  Why should we run?  As the thought crossed my mind, the field around me emptied, sparring teams running side by side.  A loud roar, a woosh of air as someone ran past me, and a cry of pain brought me from my stupor.  Jasper crouched in front of me, an unbroken growl of warning sliding from between his clenched teeth.  Before him knelt two of the newborns, both crouched as if to spring, both snarling.  “Peter,” his voice was a whisper.  “When I jump at them, you run.”  “Yes, sir,” I responded dumbly.

As Jasper flew forward, I bolted for the nearest tree, scrambling up it.  Only when I heard no pursuit, when I realized all the combat was below me, did I stop to watch.  Jasper’s every move was graceful, deadly, flowing smoothly from attack to defense to attack.  I heard him cry out as their fangs sank into him.  Stupidly, I jumped back to the ground, landing behind the trio.  The newborns moved immediately; I felt teeth in my neck and knew I had just earned my first scars.  Jasper let out a snarl as he pulled them off me.  The battle was fierce, but ended quickly.  My neck was blazing, veins searing as the venom closed the wounds.  “Come here.”  As he issued the command, Jasper grabbed me, pulling my head closer as he knelt beside me.  His breath was hot on my neck as his tongue ran smoothly over the fresh bites.  Instantly, the pain lessened.

As soon as he knew I wouldn’t pull away, Jasper released me, continuing his ministrations with quiet focus.  First one side, then the other, he moved between the two like a lion washing its cub.  I believe I moaned in relief at one point.  By the end, I felt a low rumble in my chest and Jasper smiled.  “You’re purring.”  He’d explained much earlier, when teaching me of the strange non-verbal communication they used, that a purr was the most difficult sound to make for most vampires.  It was a sound of contentement, of being at peace.  Like with all the other snarls and growls we could make, like every other aspect of this complex and wordless language, they could not be faked.  One could only purr when one was truly at peace, happy, centered.  We exchanged a smile.

Before anything else could be said, a new scent caught my attention.  Familiar and unfamiliar, I could not truly put a name with this scent.  Jasper knelt, head bowed, neck bared, a purr rumbling in his own chest.  Rather than ask questions, I followed my commander’s lead, kneeling to his right.  “Jasper.”  The voice was feminine, strong and confident, with the slightest Spanish accent.  “What has happened here?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle, Maria.  Two of the newborns thought to challenge me personally,” Jasper’s response was prompt.  I stiffened.  Maria.  This was the leader, the commander.  I kept my gaze locked to the ground.

“You required assistance?”  They spoke as if I wasn’t there, though Maria’s tone was clearly questioning my presence.  She spoke with doubt, as if concerned that Jasper had needed help in the battle.

“I did not expect it, ma’am.  Peter came to my aid all on his own.”  I heard the shift of her weight as she approached me, felt her hand rest on my hair.  “Rise, soldier.”  Her hand moved.  Getting to my feet, I got my first real look at Maria Vasquez.  Her dark hair hung to her shoulders, red eyes examining me quietly, her alabaster hand now resting on Jasper’s still bowed head, stroking his hair.  He shivered under her touch, his purr growing louder.  I felt Maria’s gaze flick over my newly acquired scars.  She glanced at me less than five seconds.  “Jasper, see to it Peter is placed in charge of the newborns.  I do not want any more trouble like we had today.  Is that understood?”  “As you wish, Maria.”  With that, she vanished as quickly as she had come.

I had been promoted.

Where did I leave off?  Oh, yes.  Jasper biting me, saving my life by not killing me right away.  Lets take a moment and backtrack a few minutes in this, my last day as a mortal.

I remember the spray of the Gulf, light against my face as I stepped off the ship to complete the transaction.  As water lapped against the side of the ship, I found myself smiling at the soothing sound.  Such a fool…  At the docks, I was surprised to see no sign whatsoever of my buyer.  What could I do but search?  I spoke to everyone I saw, calling for my buyer and further regretting my poor language skills.  Had I taken two minutes to think, I would have brought one of the crew with me, many of whom were bi-lingual.  Had I done that, of course, more lives would have been claimed.  As I moved down the street, my search remaining fruitless, something struck me hard in the back of the head.

When I came to, it was dark.  I was dimly aware of the feel of cold stone at my back, a sensual whisper coming out of the darkness.  “Enjoy your reward, Major.”  The voice, female, interrupted the low growling sound that seemed to pervade the space.  As a lilting laugh spun through the air, the growl continuing, I heard the creak of a door.  Light appeared, revealing a small room with stone walls and a hay-strewn concrete floor.  I felt thick, oily ropes biting into my wrists and ankles and gasper when I saw the figure crouched before me.  Eyes black as pitch, teeth bared, the sight of Jasper sent my hair curling once again.  Fool that I was, I pled with him though it was clear the man was far past understanding.

His movements were graceful, fast, and fluid, hands and body a blur as he leapt at me.  His touch on my cheek was icy, the growl growing in volume as I realized it was rumbling from his chest.  My mouth went dry; he meant to kill me.  Hungry, feverishly mad eyes watched as my body tensed.  He laughed.  “I told you I’d kill you.”  His whisper was almost happy, an edge of madness haunting his tone.  Pale fingers played along my jawline as my fear grew, keeping me frozen to the spot.  My heart pounded, racing as adrenaline flooded my system, but I couldn’t run.  Again, Jasper laughed and I wished momentarily that I understood the joke.  He tilted my head to one side, leaning in so close that his scent surrounded me.  The woodsy, sweet scent acted as a sort of novicaine, but the fear still lingered until the moment he finally bit.

I gasped once, unable to cry out as his teeth sank into my flesh.  I’d heard stories on the bayou, remembered them now that my entire wasted life was flashing before my eyes.  I dimly recall saying his name, perhaps pleading with him, mentioning my children, begging him to spare me…until the burning started.  It came from nowhere, fire licking its way along my entire body.  Dimly aware of noises from outside, curses and growling, crackling fire, cries of pain, I let out a cry of my own as Jasper dropped me to the stone ground.  My bonds were gone, removed at some point during his feast, but I couldn’t move.  I heard a whoosh, the door opening, and was then left alone with my thundering heart.

The invisible fire continued to burn along my body, inhuman sounds forced between my tightly clenched teeth as I writhed.  I have no idea how long Jasper was gone or how long I burned, but at some point during the burning he reappeared at my side.  Holding me down, his calm voice gave me something to focus on, to listen to, as my heart beat to shatter my ribcage.  He explained everything, over and over, soothing each of my pained cries.  By the end, I was convinced I’d gone half mad with the pain of it.  Finally, as happens with all vampires, the fire died after it engulfed my every muscle and nerve, burning away my human body and leaving a form infinitely more durable in its place.  My heard died last, beating for the last time as I wept in Jasper’s arms.  Three days after being taken into that small stone room, the intended meal walked out, ready to examine his new world.

I hear Charlotte calling me.  I’m sure she wonders what I am doing.

Adieu for now.

- Peter Devereaux