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You are a timeless piece of art; never changing and growing in unexplainable ways. You stay the same; the same contrast, the same colors, the same. Always the same. When Jasper left Maria, she was hurt. She suffered from never-ending pain and has searched for him ever since. When she finally finds him in Forks with a new family and wife, what will she do? [Companion story to Devil In Me]Photobucket

Just so everyone knows, you do not need to read Devil In Me to understand this. There may be a sentence here and there that may have something to do with, but nothing too confusing. But, I do suggest reading Devil In Me.

1. Devilish Schemes

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 2930   Review this Chapter


Heaven ain't close in a place like this
~The Killers

You can't believe it, you really can't. The days go by so fast now. Like whirlwinds of fantasies of the days that you thought would last forever. Of the days with bloody sunsets and passion convulsed in the art of murder. He is gone now. He has left. And you just can't bring yourself to move on. Your knight in shining glory, your prince charming, your lover. And he hates you. What is a girl to do? You figure you would just move on, just continue killing and over-powering. But the truth is you can't. You can't because he's the heart of your army, the soul your soul yearns for. Your other half.

And the worst part is that it took you so long, too long, to figure that out.

For years you went waltzing around, telling desperate "I love you's" to men so they'd do your dealing. And the whole damn time you never noticed that he was the one you needed. Every man in your army adores you, worships you, loves you. But he was the only one that honored you. The only one that flattered you. The only one you actually loved. And what did it take to notice that? When he says goodbye.

You always screw things up, Maria, you always do.

Everything you touch turns to ash. Everything you love turns to hate. Everything you try turns to failure. All you have is your army now, and even that is evaporating. It's slowly disappearing because he is missing. He is gone now, gone with the wind, and you have nothing. You spit the word in disgust, is it really so hard to get over a man?

Oh, but he was just much more than that. He was loving, he was kind, he was sweet. He was beautiful, he was glorious, he was sexy. He was perfection. And what are you? You are the disgusting slaughtering woman who wants to take over the South but can not without him. And you let him go. God damn it, you let him go. You stood there under the storm clouds as he walked away. You stood there as he kissed you goodbye. You stood there over the cliffs with a smug smile as you watched him kill 9 humans that very night. You scolded him for something that was so very appealing in your eyes. You tortured him with your words.

If he had known you had actually stood there and watched him kill them all the night he left, he'd surely hate you. He was always morose, and there wasn't a thing you could do about it. And you realize, now that he is gone, you realize that all it would have taken to make a miraculous smile light up his face would be to give yourself to him. To make you only his, and him only yours. To make your relationship known, to not pick favorites out of your soldiers. To love only one, to be with only one.

And in the end, wasn't that what you wanted to do?

You did want that, all of that. It just took you too long to learn your own hopes. Your own desires. Your own dreams. And you despise yourself for it. You're so devious and experienced, and yet so naive and innocent all at the same time. You take on illusions and roles to play, and you play them well. But in the end, do you really hide yourself from everyone else? Can they see the real you? See the broken, crushed, and grief-filled Maria? Do they fear their leader, the murderous blood-thirsty fiend that you are?

Because the day they realize that you are nothing will be Dooms Day.


You rip and tear viciously so. God gave you a second chance at life and heaven forbid you give it away to your followers. They know it now, they really do. They have all realized you are gone, your soul and heart, and they want revenge. They want the years back you stole from them. They are rebelling against your power, they are are turning the tides. And you cry. Tearless sobs escape your body as you snarl at your opponents. If he was here, he would never dream of letting someone hurt you.

It has been 2 years since he left. And you do not know where he is. There are no trails that lead you to him. There are no scents that lead you to him. There are no clues that lead you to him. For you are empty.

Your revenge-hungry rivals growl as they try to pounce on you. You twirl, like a menacing ballerina, out of their way as you swipe your nails. No one crosses Maria, no one gets away.

Except him. But that was different, you let him get away.

A broken sob escapes your ruby lips as you hiss. Your venomous teeth slit the necks of one of your most loyal soldiers. It's a funny thing; rebellions. Once upon a time you would never ever guess that these soldiers of yours, these lovers of yours would want you dead. But once he left, you expected it. You tried to hide your hurt, your anguish, but they found out. The night before your next battle, they caught you grieving. Is it such a horrible thing to grieve? When they found you shaking from sobs that would never leak tears, they finally learned.

You are nothing.

You are a piece of paper that blows away in the wind; so frail that with just a small huff, you blow away. You are the flame of a candle; so small and bright but with just enough force, you are doused with pain. You are the hands of a clock; you constantly tick away until the one moment where all hell breaks loose. You are the storm clouds that now huddle overhead; about to break apart and rain over all. You are an unexpected beauty, so frantic and lost that all blurs in the world.

Another in your army leaps you and you reach out at their throat. Your dead heart seems to pound in your chest with success as you yank your rival's throat out. Five dead so far. A ring of your angry soldiers surrounds you, two attacking at a time. Is it possible to get out alive? Is it possible to go on? You are so miserable anyway, shouldn't you just give into them? To end it all would be bliss, would be heaven, would very well be the best idea you have ever have.

And then you see his face. His angel's face with bright, wild eyes and waves of blonde hair. If you died, or whatever your kind does, you would never see him again. Never see him to tell him you have changed. And isn't that what this is all about? You want to show him you are something, even though you really are not. You want to gain back his trust and his love. You want him.

And so you come back into the fight with more energy than you have had in months. You yip and yap and growl and snarl. The ring around you slowly grows smaller, multiple pieces of white flesh litters the ground; an arm here, a leg there; a head to the right; a torso to the left. The putrid scent of death is everywhere. It stings your nostrils as fire burns strongly. Whoever started it, you do not know. The flames lick higher, reaching the sky above. Flesh burns nearby, and the small ring around you, consisting of four, moves out and form a path.

You are to go now. They have granted you that.

Instead of killing them all, of slaughtering once again, they are letting you go. You lift your chin up in dignity and walk the plank line into the real world where you truly are alone. You will not have to pretend for anyone now, you will not have to try hard.

Rain falls as you take your leave and the flames slowly start to die down. If you had any bit of imagination left, you would have spent those final moments pretending the rain drops were tears on your icy cheeks.


It has been 50 years since you last saw him. 50 long, tiring, miserable years. You know nothing of how your comrades ended up. You know nothing of where he could be. He could be dead. He could be miserable. He could be alive. He could happy. There are so many possibilities, and you know nothing. The gaping hole in your chest has not filled from the pain that took place the moment he left you. You have not moved on, as you like to think he hoped for you to do.

You are a timeless piece of art; never changing and growing in unexplainable ways. You stay the same; the same contrast, the same colors, the same. Always the same.

You aimlessly walk the dark alleys of New York City. You'd never dream of being this far North, this far away from the only home you've ever had. It feels awkward, the air always soft and breezy, the people piled so close together. It is also more stressing on the control. It takes more self control to sort through the towns now than ever. Venom is constantly flooding your mouth, dripping down the back.

You have crossed his scent once. Only once. And it was in Philadelphia. You could smell him a mile away; the sweet sensation of honey and danger. Such an odd mix, but so seductive. Just from his smell you know he is wild, should be wild, and is dangerous. That was one thing you always enjoyed about him; the aggressiveness and roughness of it all was so empowering. He would look at you with wild eyes, like flames burning in the irises, and you just wanted to be in his demand.

To be simply a doll in his arms.

But when you tracked him down, you found him with someone else. And that hurt. He sits inside of a small, raggedy dinner, side by side with a pixie-like woman who is of our kind. You can not tell from his expression whether he loves her or not, but from her's it is evident.

And so you walk away. And now you hate yourself for it.

You can't stand the fact that you left him once you had the chance. You've let him get away twice now, and it gnaws at your venom-filled heart. You want him back, back in your heart. And once you do so, you will kill the pixie one. The one who looks so childish with her small features and her bright smile. You want to crush every bone in her body, pull every muscle, tear at every piece of flesh. And if he doesn't like that, well he'll learn to appreciate all you have done for him.

Our love is twisted, our love is scarred, our love is strained. But our love is still there. It always will be.

And so now, 50 years later, you are still alone in New York City. You will find him, though. You will. You can not stand the thought of defeat, you never have been able to surrender. You want him to yourself and now you understand how he felt all those years ago. How he felt when he saw you with your other suitors, your other loves. Jealously. Rage. Betrayal. Hurt. And you respect him for all that he went through for all those years when he was a part of your army.

You want her dead, and then you'll take him for yourself.

You won't stop until he is your's.


123 years. You have never once forgotten how many years have gone by since the last time you really saw him. The brief moment at the dinner does not count; you saw him from the back for a split-second and then you ran. You have roamed this Earth for far too many years, and you want him back. You refuse to go through eternity alone. You will not lose him to a pixie who looks like a five year old.

You just can't.

You have tried desperately so to track him down, but of course, that was always his specialty. Your skills are nothing compared to his. You look into many crevices of information, desperate for some sort of data regarding his where abouts. Every single vampire you come across, you ask them about a honey blond angel. They all shake their heads and go on.

You are still alone, you are still miserable, you are still nothing.

You look for him, you search for him, you yearn for him. But he is nowhere to be found. You have never known such desperation, such crazed feelings, such frantic hurting. You have never tasted this type of desire. The desire for someone else's presence. The desire for love. The desire for him. And it's never leaving you. Every single cell of your body aches in pain as you lazily walk down each street.

And then there is a break.

You run across a red-headed vampire who is thirsty for revenge in northern Washington. She wants to kill a human mate of a vampire, which you have never heard of. This woman interests you, her antics are clever and wise. She is creating an army in Seattle, and army to kill this human girl, and you decide to help her. Because, after all, you have a bit of background in this area.

And one night, as you both plan and scheme, you ask her your million dollar question. If she knows him. Her ruby eyes flicker up at you in shock and you feel you spine go stiff. Her mouth opens and she explains. The vampire mate of this human belongs to a large coven. They drink from animals; which is astonishing in its self. There are seven of them, all couples except for the one who has fallen for the human.

And then she explains how they think of themselves as brothers, sisters, daughters, sons, fathers, and mothers. They are like a family. You flinch in disgust. Our kind is not meant to be like that. We are meant to be killing machines who have no mercy. She tells you of how one, a blond one with an air of calm, was present. She tells you of how he killed her mate, James, along with his 'brother' in Phoenix where James tracked the human girl to. She tells you of how this one blond, she never caught his name, and his mate took the human down to Phoenix as body guards and hid her in a hotel. And she tells you of how he has this power. This strange power that manipulates emotions; feelings.

Just like he did.

And that his mate, this strange pixie woman, can see the future. And this where you learn. You know that even though your physical abilities match up to hers, she has the upper hand. She has the psychic abilities.

So you know, then, that he is near by. So close and yet so far. He has a family, a 'wife' as they call it, and a whole new life style. And you don't fit into it.

And when you learn that this woman, she goes by Victoria, is going to be fighting him and his family, you simply can not go with them. Of course, you will go to him after this war blows over, but you better not make your appearance known during it. So as you leave Victoria and her army, you tell her to not kill him. No matter what, do not kill the honey blond angel. She nods, knowing what it is like to lose a lover.

You leave her army in Seattle the night before the battle. And days later you learn she has died. She failed in her mission to kill the girl, and the human's mate slaughtered her effortlessly. You also learn some more about these 'Cullens'. The one who has fallen in love with a human can read minds. The leader, the 'father', is a surgeon. How he can be near blood shocks you to no end, but no matter. It is not your concern. And you also learn that there is one in the family, one that you almost fear, because of his strength. He is huge, tall, and fierce and is stronger than any other vampire you will meet.

You know that if you want to speak to him, you will have trouble.

And so weeks later when the battle has calmed down, in the middle of July, you come to this small town of Forks. You breathe in his scent, so undeniably tempting, and you dodge fate once again. You make split decisions, determined to get past his mate. You will not be defeated. You refuse to do so.

You stand in front of that human mate's house, breathing in her scent of freesia, and you sigh. This Cullen family is 'hunting' out in the mountains and they have left her alone.

You know just how to get to him, to get close to him. You will get to him through his 'sister'.

As you take a light step onto the green grass, you breathe his name out like it is holy, "Jasper."