1. Blaze

The recognition of the vampire stepping out from the bushes shocked me.

In my imagination, I thought the vampire that normally I would have recognized completely, though, is Edward. The soft murmurs in the background—only to me—are more frantic, but they—him, I mean—tells me it's okay to yell or speak his name.

My voice is low even to my own voice as I speak, barely above a whisper. "Laurent?" I asked. "Is—is that you?" I knew for sure it was, but I wanted to seem brave, like I almost forgotten what had happened last spring.

He doesn't seem fooled. "Bella?" he asked. "It is me, Bella. Why are you here, in such an odd place for a human?"

"Lie," Edward's voice commands. I would have thought that his voice would at least be worried—or more so I hoped. But, instead of the worrisome tone, he speaks it calmly, like we were discussing the scores of the last football game.

Right, I think to no one. I take a step forward, noting that I'm not fearful, just curious. "Waiting—waiting for Edward," I say. I was never good at lying but somehow my voice is perfect, and it wasn't as hard as I thought to say his name. Instead of the searing pain I had expected, I only had to take a deep breath to calm the nerves.

"Really?" I'm not that close to him—there's a good eight feet separating us—but I can still hear the black humor in his voice, and see his eyebrows rise. "Because," he mused, "when I went to their house, they weren't…there." His eyebrows rise again.

"Oh," I say. "They aren't," I say as if he should know this too. "But"—I careful of what I say, making sure I'm trying to say it right—"he visits me…often."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Yeah," I agree.

He purses his lips. "I would've thought they would've changed you by now, or at least would've have taken you with them."

Bella, his voice says in only my memory, I don't want you to come with me. I have to take a quick, deep breath because I'm on the verge of losing my cool. I sigh in deep relief as words slowly come to mind. "Well, that's the plan—later. They"—I made a face—"said—said it would be better if I was older, more…mature."

I more shocked it seems then he is at my words. I guess he's shocked at the news, while I'm shocked because of how well I said those words.

"Well, I guess they won't have to wait much longer."

That hits something, and I haven't felt more alive since the motorcycles.

"Do it!" I spat. "Do it now! Bite me!" I rush to him and never before had those red eyes looked so appealing—if they ever had before in the first place. "Please," I say while I push my hair away from my throat. "Please put me out of this humanity!" My voice is the chug of a train and is demanding as a kid on Christmas.

I look him straight in the eye. "If—if you do…let me become…one…of you…I—I will do anything."

And then it happens…he bites me.

At first its nothing compared to nothing. It's a soft murmur or a whisper. A whisper of pain….

His teeth graze my skin, looking for the perfect spot. Then, slowly—agonizingly slow—his teeth penetrate into my throat…

I can feel the sharpness of those teeth, but I feel no fear. I can feel the blood—my blood—nestling down my neck, but I feel no fear. I can hear his slurps, the long agonizing slurps of my blood entering his body, but I feel nothing like fear.

I gasp as I feel something hot. It's like touching a hot iron when it's on high, and getting a blister. But I'm not going to get a blister…I'm going to get something far better than that—if he stops.

Than he lets go, lets me fall onto the floor as my scream of pain interrupt the cool forest that was so still beforehand. His answer is muffled by more screams…

Black, then red, black, then red…is the pattern that is taking control of my body. First I see black, feel black—nothingness—then I see something like red haze that engulfs me, feel the red haze that turns into a blaze take my body.

But this pattern doesn't last, and oh God I wished it did.

I wished it did because of the pain that comes next. A red blaze that's thicker than a bubble bee hive, and is hotter than lava, controls my fumbling hands as I reach for the pale figure before me.

And the fire marches on in lulls…

How much pain is too much pain now? is the question I ask myself as the fire makes it to my heart.