Vampyrjägaren

Jag hade inte varit nervös på jag vet inte hur länge. Men just denna dag påmindes jag om hur det var att vara mänsklig. Varför blev jag nervös? Jag kände på mig att mötet med Bellas mamma inte skulle gå lika smärtfritt som mötet med hennes pappa hade gjort. Varför vet jag inte, vi vampyrer har många förmågor men vi vet inte alltid hur vi ska tolka de signaler vi får. Bella var inte nervös, varför skulle jag vara det? Vi steg ur Bellas bil och jag lyfte som vanligt ut henne under högljudda protester. Jag tycker om att hjälpa henne med till synes onödiga saker, det får mig att känna att jag kan skydda henne, alltid. Särskilt nu när jag kände mig orolig.

Vi gick mot restaurangen där vi skulle träffa hennes mamma. Bella var lycklig, skuttandes vid min sida och ovanligt pratglad. Jag förstod att hon var stolt över mig, det här var hennes hemstad Phoenix, och hon hade tidigare pratat om hur glad hon var över att hon skulle få visa upp mig. Hennes hår var utsläppt och doftade underbart när det blåste omkring henne och ibland, till min glädje, nära mitt ansikte. Vädret var molnigt, en perfekt dag för mig att vara ute. Jag kände hennes hand i min, pulserandes av värmen som bara en levande kan utstråla. En värme som gjorde mig hungrig och knäsvag, men som jag vant mig vid att motstå. Hennes blyghet som normalt gjorde henne mänsklig och oemotståndlig var som bortblåst denna dag. Alla stirrade som vanligt på oss när vi gick förbi.

Vi närmade oss restaurangen där vi skulle träffas, och såg på avstånd en vinkandes kvinna. Bella vinkade stort tillbaka och snart förstod jag varför jag känt mig så nervös. Jag kände igen henne. Kände igen ögonen, blicken. Var hade jag sett henne förut? Jag letade i mitt minne, och grävde fram gamla minnesbilder som inte passade ihop med kontexten jag befann mig i. Men hon var väl bara en vanlig människa? Hon kunde inte vara vampyr, vad var hon? Hon kunde inte ha levt då? Eller?

Jag kände att hon var starkare än jag. Det var en ovan känsla och därför kom jag ihåg det enda tillfälle jag förut känt något liknande. Det var länge sen, men minnet kom tillbaks till mig som om någon spelade upp en film framför mina ögon.

Det var på en gata i London, år 1923. Det var fullt med folk, det måste ha varit torgdag. Mitt sinne var ett myller av olika människors tankar, men när jag såg in i hennes ögon blev det blankt. Den enda jag kände var ett enormt hat som jag inte vet varifrån det kom. En isande kyla, som om jag inte var kall nog. Jag kände att hon förstod vad jag var, men vad var hon? Varför kunde jag inte läsa hennes tankar? Varför kände jag bara hat, och var det mitt eller hennes hat jag kände? Mitt huvud blev dimmigt, precis som de gator jag gick på.

Jag observerade då, liksom nu, att hon var mycket vacker, som en målning, som om hon hoppat rakt ur ett stiliserat porträtt av en konstnärs älskarinna. Hon var ljus, med håret uppsatt bak i nacken. Hon var klädd som en man, med byxor och skjorta som en vanlig arbetare. Hård blick men annars mjuka anletsdrag. Lockar hade fallit loss från den strama knuten. Hård och mjuk.

Eftersom det bara handlade om sekunder fortsatte jag att gå i samma riktning som förut. Men något stämde inte, jag kände att hon tittade på mig. Jag sneglade över axeln, och såg att hon gick efter mig. Fort men inte som om hon jagade mig. Jag förstod dock att det var precis vad hon gjorde. Jag ökade takten, tänkte att om hon var en normal människa så skulle hon inte kunna hänga med i mitt tempo. Efter en stund så tittade jag efter henne igen, så obemärkligt som jag kunde. Hon var på precis samma avstånd som förut, hon var lika snabb eller snabbare än jag. Jag ökade tempot igen, snabbare och snabbare tills jag svängde in i en gränd. Jag tryckte mig mot väggen, gjorde mig osynlig. Väntade en stund, andades snabbt av gammal vana. Kom på mig själv och blev knäpptyst. Hade hon försvunnit? Varför stannade jag inte och slogs? Jag visste inte hur stark hon var men ville inte skapa uppståndelse och avslöja mig. Oavsett anledning till att denna kvinna ville döda mig, för det ville hon, ville jag inte dricka oskyldigt blod. Det säkraste var att fly. Det var i alla fall detta jag intalade mig.

Egentligen var jag rädd, rädd för det okända, det som jag trots mina krafter inte kunde förstå. Efter en stund klättrade jag upp på väggen jag lutat mig emot, svingade mig själv upp på taket och hoppade mellan några hus för att förvirra henne om hon mot förmodan fortfarande följde efter mig. Jag hoppade ner vid ett välbekant ställe, vid en bar där jag förut hade träffat några andra vampyrer. Jag tyckte inte om att spendera tid med de vampyrer jag hittills hade träffat, men jag kände mig så desperat av någon anledning att jag kände att jag behövde deras skydd. När jag gick in genom dörren såg jag till min stora fasa en snabb skymt av kvinnan som förföljt mig. Hon låtsades prata med en slaktare som sålde styckade köttdelar. Jag rös, men beskyddet av de andra vampyrerna verkar ha fungerat. Jag hade inte sett henne sen dess, jag hade glömt bort henne. Tills nu. (hur klarade han sig undan?)

Dessa bilder for snabbt igenom mitt minne när jag såg in moderns ögon. Jag kunde inte förstå att det var hon. Hon var lika gammal som jag, eller kanske äldre. Det var ovissheten, igen, som gjorde mig rädd.

Jag drogs under en kort men intensiv sekund mellan kärleken till Bella och viljan att leva (eller vad det nu kallas när man är levande död). Hade jag haft ett mänskligt hjärta hade det dunkat snabbare, hade jag haft normala kroppsliga signaler hade de skrikit: Fly! Fäkta! Hade jag haft lungor hade jag fått svårt att andats, nu slutade jag helt. Inte för att det gjorde någon skillnad…

Jag väcktes ur mina tankar av ett ljud, det passade inte in i minnet och förde mig tillbaka till nuet. Det var Bella som stirrade konstigt på mig med oförstående, ilskna ögon. "Edward, varför säger du inget? Det här är min mamma, hälsa!"

Bellas mamma sträckte fram handen. Hennes blick var inpräntad i mitt minne, jag misstog mig inte. Den här kvinnan, Bellas mamma, var samma kvinna som för nästan 100 år sedan hade jagat mig genom Londons gator. Hon var någon sorts vampyrjägare. Och jag som trodde att det här förhållandet inte kunde bli mer komplicerat…

An inconvenient hunter

I can´t remember the last time I was nervous. This day though, I was reminded of the feeling that usually is bound to the human experience. Why did I become nervous? I did feel that the meeting with Bella's mom wouldn't be as painless as the meeting with her father. Why, I didn't know at that point. As a vampire I have many abilities though we may not always understand the signals we are given. Bella wasn't nervous, so why should I? We stepped out of her car and as usual I lifted her out, ignoring her loud protests. I like helping her with small, from her perspective "unnecessary", services. It gives me the satisfaction of feeling that I protect her, constantly. Especially now that my mind was worried with riddles I hadn't solved.

We walked towards the restaurant were her mother would meet us for a meal. Bella was happy, almost bouncing while walking by my side, chattering more than usual. She had told me she was proud of me. This was Phoenix, her hometown, and she couldn't wait showing of her "stunning boyfriend". Her hair blew in the wind, making the wonderful scent reach my face. I took deep breaths so that I could enjoy her aroma every time I got the chance. The sky was cloudy, a perfect day! I felt her hand in mine, and the pulse that can only come from someone as alive as she was. I felt a heat that made me hungry and longing, but that I had learned to resist. Her shyness, that normally made her beautifully human and irresistible from my point of view, was almost invisible this day. As usual though, everybody stared at us, in that sense it was as in any other place.

As we approached the restaurant where we would meet her mother I saw a waving woman. Bella waved back, eagerly, and I slowly began to understand what it was that made me feel so nervous. I knew her face, I had seen her before. The eyes, the way she looked at me. I searched my memory for an explanation. I searched for pictures, and found some that didn't quite fit the context in which I now found myself. She must be a normal human; she couldn't be a vampire? What was she? She can't be that old, or could she?

She was stronger than me, and maybe older. It was an unaccustomed feeling towards a human, and therefore I remembered the only occasion I had ever felt something like this before. It was a long time ago, but the memory unraveled itself before my eyes, as though playing a movie.

I traveled to the foggy streets of London, the year was around 1920. The streets were crowded, it must have been a market day or something. My mind where as crowded as the streets with peoples thoughts, but when I looked into her eyes everything got blank. The only thing I felt was this huge hatred and I didn't understand the source of it. A shivering cold, as if I wasn't cold enough. She knew what I was, but what was she? Why couldn`t I read her mind? Why did I only feel hatred, and was that my hatred or hers? My head got foggy, dimly. I felt more things, and I felt scared, a very distant feeling for me, and the feeling increased rapidly, as if she controlled me.

I observed, as I did now, that she was beautiful, like a painting. As if she had walked straight out from a masterpiece of art. She had bright skin and bright hair that she had pulled from her face to her neck, collected in a knot. She was dressed as a man, with pants and shirt like an everyday worker. Her gaze was hard as stone, but otherwise a soft face. A few curls had fallen from her hairdo, hanging loosely. She was both hard and soft.

It was only a matter of seconds that I saw her, and I kept walking the direction I had intended. But something wasn't right. I felt that she kept looking at me. I glanced back and saw her changing her direction, walking the same way as I did. She walked fast, as though she was following me, which I knew she was. I increased my pace thinking that if she was a normal human she wouldn't be able to catch up with me. After a while I glanced again, as unnoticeably as I could. She was there; the distance between us hadn't changed. That meant she was either as fast as, or faster than me, unless she had run her legs of. Testing this theory, I increased my tempo again, I walked faster and faster until I decided to swiftly turn and escape into a narrow alley. I pressed my back to the wall, making myself invisible. Waiting. Breathing fast, an old habit. Caught myself and stopped. Practiced, appropriately enough, dead silence. Had she seen me hiding? Had she kept walking? Why hadn`t I stopped to defend myself, why didn`t I want to meet her? I didn't know how strong she was, but I didn't want to cause any attention, being already someone who easily caught eyes. Also, no matter what reason this woman had for wanting to hurt me, and of this I was certain, I didn't want to spill (or drink) innocent blood. The best choice I could make in this, for me rather unusual situation, was to run away. At least this is what I told myself then…

Speaking the truth, I was scared. Scared of the unknown, that which I couldn't understand despite my powers. After some time, I don't know how long, I climbed up the wall which I had leaned against, pulling myself up to the roof. Then I climbed and jumped over a few blocks to make sure I was hard to follow, even though my logic told me this was unlikely. I jumped down from the roof near a place I knew. It was a bar where I before had met some other vampires. I usually didn't enjoy the company of my kindred's back then, but I felt desperate enough for some reason to be longing for the protection that the company of those other vampires could give me. Just when I was passing through the door though, I glanced back and saw to my surprise and expectation the same woman who had been following me. She was pretending to talk to a butcher nearby who was trying to sell her half a cow. Nonsense, I knew she was hunting bigger prey then that. It seemed as though my plan to hide myself near other vampires worked though, both then and until this day. I forgot the feelings she had given me, until I met her this second time.

During a second, that was like an hour, I was pulled between my love for Bella and the will to live (or whatever you call it when you`re living dead). If I had a human heart, it would have pounded faster. If I had normal body signals, it would have yelled at me: Flee! Fight! If I had lungs, I would have trouble breathing, instead it ceased, not that it made any difference.

These were the images that traveled through my mind when I looked into the eyes of Bellas mother. I could not understand the fact that she stood right in front of me, the same age as me or older. It was the uncertainty that made me afraid, the uncertainty of who she was, or what.

I was awakened from my thoughts with a sound. It didn't quite fit in with my memories and brought me back to the present. It was Bella, staring at me with uncomprehending, fierce eyes. "Edward, why won't you say anything? This is my mother, at least say hi!"

Her mother's hand was politely stretched my way, though her eyes didn't match what the hand suggested. Those eyes had been printed into my memory, I wasn't mistaking. This woman, the mother of my girlfriend, was the same woman that nearly a hundred years ago had been chasing me down the streets of London. She was some kind of vampire hunter, of that I was sure. Unfortunately, I was a vampire.

And I thought this relationship couldn`t get any more complicated…