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The Mythical Creature's Guide to Living in the Modern World

Summary:
Jake, Seth, and Leah have broken off from Sam's pack, and even though they all know that no relationship formed under intense situations can ever work out, there's no denying that there's something going on between Jacob and Leah and it's more then just rumours. Blackwater. Cannon through p356 of BD. “You can't ever leave me. You understand me? You started this. You let the cat out of the bag. If you so much as try to break my heart, I'll break you. Understand?”


Notes:
The first in The Guide Trilogy


3. Chapter Three, Gamma

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I hate vampires. I mean, I'm a werewolf. A freak-of-nature she-werewolf. I'm supposed to hate vampires. And they smelled like someone chose to make Taffy in flower shop.

If there were no vampires, there would be no werewolves. If none of us were werewolves, there wouldn't be any fucking imprinting to screw with otherwise decent relationships. If there were no vampires, there wouldn't be any mutant spawn gestating in the stupid cunt right now, which I stupidly agreed to protect from the rest of the pack. I wouldn't be hungry right now, smelling of Eu de Mud, and wearing vampire clothing.

I supposed I should have been nicer – I mean, the guy's wife was dying, though if he'd kept his trouser snake in his pants...

Yea, nice and Leah Clearwater didn't mix. Even before I'd turned into a wolf I was like this. Not as grey old hag bitter, but still mostly like this.

I phased and quickly threw on the white dress, which served to highlight all the mud and sticks and junk in my hair. Good thing I'd given up on trying to look presentable a long time ago. “Point me in the direction of the food, Special Ed, so I can get out of here.” But he was looking at me curiously, unmoving. I didn't need this. “If you're going to tell me I smell too, you can just take your food and shove it-”

“No. I just never realized how unusual your mind was.”

“Oh. Well. Thank god. Now you and your mad scientist father can psychoanalyse me and become hopelessly rich,” I snapped my fingers as I walked past him, “wait, you've already done that. Well, there goes that plan.” I flung the door open and paused, stunned by the amount of white they somehow saw fit to throw into this one room. And me all covered in mud too... tee hee hee. “God, I know they didn't have any Home Depots in your time, but would it kill you to buy a can of paint? Its not like you can't afford it.”

A quick glance around – stairs, piano, couch, really ridiculously large TV, doors... If I were a kitchen, where would I be? Hmmm.... Door number two it was.

I was immediately blinded by an array of stainless steel and glass, and the overly floral smell of two of the she-pires. One of them immediately ran in front of me, said that I had to be the reason her whole afternoon had disappeared, and proceeded to drag me bodily up the stairs. “What the hell are you doing, midget?” I shouted, wrenching myself away and looking for where the door went.

“You need a shower. Now.”

“Well, you don't smell like a bowl of roses either,” okay, more like eighty of them, but still, “but you don't see me forcing-”

“Shower, now.” Said the midget, locking me in yet another bright white room, easily the size of the first floor of my house. I weighed my options: mud, or shower and get muddy again later?

So, okay, I showered. And dressed in the clothes they laid out for me, because going butt naked through a house full of vampires is not something I ever want to do. That, and the windows were too small for me to climb through. I tried.

“Happy now, Skipper?” I twirled for her, the skipped behind her down the stairs.

“My name is Alice, mutt.”

“I know.” I just don't care. “I'd call you Barbie, but you're just too short. What are you, like twelve?”

“A hundred and eight, like Edward.”

Wow. That was old. And Bella'd chosen the dead man over Jake who, at least, was hot blooded. God, that sounded wrong. And I was in a house with a mind reader.... “If Bella lives through this, you should sent her Gerontophiliacs Anonymous or something, 'cause that's borderline creepy.”

“He only looks seventeen.”

“Then he's under age. Whatever. The girl has a problem,” my stomach was rumbling by this point, and there was, as I entered the shining kitchen, which was bound to be a pain to clean if they actually used it. That was it! The house was too clean! No human would ever have a house as white and sparkling like this. God, they probably liked having all this shiny, reflective stuff in their house so they could look in the mirror and see themselves sparkling. Stupid sparkling vampires forcing me to eat and live in the woods. Stupid me for letting Jake make me. I was so totally stealing all their extension cords and running a hotplate out to my rock. And a tarp, because sleeping with a raincoat thrown over me wasn't exactly working as well as I'd hoped.

“She'll be fine once she's had the baby and been turned.” She said this as she sat across from me at the table, looking intensely interested as she watched me eat. It made me self-conscious, even though her tone was a sorrowful one that I knew she didn't believe herself.

“Yeah. Uh-huh. And how many people have you met that want to be turned into blood-sucking creatures of the night? Besides little miss knock-me-up?”

'Alice' rolled her eyes. “None, but-”

“My point exactly.” God these cinnamon rolls were delicious. I was going to have to steal a mini-fridge too.

Luckily, the midget beauty queen decided to just sit quietly and watch me eat after that, which was creepy but marginally less annoying. I stuffed my face as best I could, and, when at last I could eat no more, I did anyway, just to have an excuse not to have to come back later.

“You still smell weird,” she said at last after I conned her (well, told her I was going to) into helping me steal some Tupperware that looked to be as old as my mother. Had they had Tupperware for that long? And what the hell did vampires need it for – other then visiting werewolves? Food fights?

“Okay, so you've never smelled a clean werewolf. You all can fucking stop mentioning it every three seconds or we'll see how far I can stick this lid through your chest.”

This one was fond of rolling eye movements, I could tell. She just danced across the kitchen, filling a plastic containers for me to take back to my rock at a speed just slow enough for me to see, before handing them to me and saying, “No, I've never smelled a female werewolf before.” It wasn't like I'd come around before, so I guess she hadn't, but still. I was vaguely insulted. I may have buried bones in the backyard in my spare time, but... No, there wasn't really anything good that could follow that.

“Want me to piss on something, or can I go now?”

She wrinkled her nose. I could have sworn I heard her mutter, “And I thought humans were hormonal,” as I left, which naturally ticked me off further. So I broke into the leeches' garage and tried to find an extension cord, but couldn't find any, the stupid candle-using, brooding-opera-music, black-velvet-caped freaks.

So I stole a ratchet wrench instead, and trotted back with my gleanings to my rock, plotting revenge on the furry idiot who forced this upon me.