Second-hand Faith
Note: So, I love Twilight and all, but I wanted to write my own spin on it all... Sort of. I guess I kind of totally flew off on my own. This is my Edward, a bit darker than his cannon counterpart, and full of seeable flaws. 3 All non-cannon charries belong to me unless stated otherwise. Stephanie Meyer owns the rest.
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The soft, tick-ticking of the clock flashed across her lifeless eyes. Her body twitched as if to move beyond Death, as though some force was willing her to come back alive. The blood in her veins stopped thrumming as his fangs sunk deeper into the life he held in his hands. Deep, crimson eyes looked at the woman in his hands, dropping her pale body to the floor with no ounce of grace. He moved with the skill of a predator, the sway of his hips cat-like, his fingers gingerly tapping out a beat on the windowseal. Outside, the world seemed to mockingly cloak itself in rain for the predator. He pulled back his lips into a mocking smile, and turned, the black cloak swishing around him in a familiar fashion.
He laid a simple rose into the female's hands, folding them ontop of the thorns. "You doubted I could be a harm for you, poor girl." He murmured, smoothing back waiting bangs as he stood. Humanity in him cried out, but the beast of his hunger roared a louder cause, appeased only a tiny bit by the blood he had drained from the beauty at his feet. He stepped softly over her, his thoughts snapping like elastic over, invaded by those in the apartments around him.
How will I pay the rent
SOMEONE STOP THAT RACKET
Child, hush. Let mommy sleep
Unaware of the brutal murder that had been commited, they would go on with their lives until a horrible stench would seep through and someone, perhaps the Landlord, would finally find the body too decayed to really identify except by dental footsteps were silent, the clouded day letting him descend without problems onto the streets. It had been so easy to draw her in. A simple touch, a simple alluring look, a smile, to draw the poor defenseless lamb into the lion's den. He gave a short, silent bark of a laugh, and then silenced his lips.
He moved with ease past the crowds, the city silent around him in it's own, echoing despair. Had he really been born here, in this pit of human selfishness? Had he really been saved from a single, poisoning bite? He refused to think of it, his throat constricted at the thought. Back to hunting, back to the blood, maybe a break with some carnal pleasure here and there. He felt eyes on him, but he realized where his musing had carried him. The guards of Nyghttine Club waved him through, a familiar face.
He walked slowly through the crowd, hearing the thoughts, and then the strange void that filled one mind. He made his way toward it, knowing who he would find. A small, child-looking one of his kind, her long black hair falling in ringlets, a playful smile on her face. Ah, there she was, standing by the bar. She accepted him with a wordless, wicked smile, and then spoke only after a softer song pulsated from the speakers, even though they both knew that if she had said anything, he would've heard.
"Hello, Edward. Have fun?" Her eyes were peculiar, a dark crimson-rimmed visage, except with gold at the edges, even though she had never been a vegetarian vampire, unlike his 'father'. How he scoffed at the word, quietly, to himself. No one but he knew his thoughts. She looked like a child vampire, and she was, but the Volturi had never been able to sink it's dirty little fangs into her, even though she was as rational as any grown vampire, and older than many who dotted the earth.
He could recall asking her how old she was at one point. She had smiled, the lit end of a cigarette in her lips, ruffled laces of her dress sweeping. The visage was so clear, he could recall her exact words. One of his first memories of England. "I'm older than you'll ever be, by heart. I've been dead a thousand years, and lived only thirteen." She had thrown her head back, and laughed with mirth. He had never asked again, the mere thougth made him shudder. The only child vampire still alive, probably.
"She didn't scream, Lolita." He forced a clear, placid smile through his menegerie of thoughts. Lolita gave him a sympathic glance. "Irishwoman probably. They're rarely any fun to kill. I try to avoid them. Then again, I do very little hunting myself anymore." Lolita could snap her fingers, and someone would lay a freshly murdered body at her feet. These vampires crowding around her like a bundle of broken nerves were as loyal to her as though the Volturi had drawn them in. Lolita had a strange, attractive air about her. She was insanely cute, beautiful, whatever you wanted to say for her eerie eyes and long black hair, with that little gothic dress that adorned her slick body.
Suddenly, her tone took on a different mask. "Edward. I think you have to return to Carlisle now though. I can sense the Volturi trying to track me again, and as many enemies as you have made..." She paused, her point made like an icy dagger in his heart. "You will be forgotten in a few good centuries, but go home, spend some time with your father, and bid him by good graces. If he ever needs anything at all, tell him to call Lolita. If you ever need anything, you may call too, Edward. I'll be waiting, watching. I have eyes everywhere." This little vampire almost ran a counter to the Volturi.. A vampire mafia, in an odd sense.
Edward paused, and nodded. "I'll say goodbye to Thine first." Lolita's curled smile turned almost wicked, and then almost sad. "She'll miss you, I think." Before he could hear anymore, he buried himself into the crowd, glad for the near suffocating presence of mortal and vampire. He made his way through, fingertips soon brushing a hidden door along the wall. With one easy shove he opened it, slipping inside a dimly lit room, bedecked in silks. More classy, 70s music swung from the old-time record player, and he smiled at the familiarity of it.
A beautiful woman stepped from behind the curtains. Her skin was dark, lips painted a crimson, gold and silk hanging from her narrow limbs. "Come to have your fortune read?" She said with a blind smile toward Edward. Her crimson eyes were sightless, her hair great, dark ringlets that dropped down. Different from Lolita's, she was adorned in many differnet things, as was her room. She glided toward him, and laid her slim arms around his shoulders, his arms going instinctively around her waist. "I saw you leaving me, darling."
Edward gave a small, light chuckle, brushing back her hair. "'Fraid so." He gave a light smile, and then it faded to the look on her face. Sure, they weren't mates, but something seemed to bind them. He'd saved her so many times, it was almost like he had assumed a darker role of her knight in shining armor. She managed a bit brighter smile. "Well then, I guess it is time to say goodbye." He paused, frowning to himself. "You saw something?" She only acted like this when she saw something depressing...
"I'm not going to divine your fate, love." She said, released his shoulders, and in turn, he her waist. They looked at each other. She looked at him, unseeing, and he looked at her, seeing everything. His hand softly brushed her cheek. She waved her hand. "Go. Goodbye. We shall not meet again, but it is still unclear. You are not in my future, and I in yours." She turned, and with a musical grace, she floated back to her bed, and within the satin curtains disappeared. Her wiff of jasemine and thyme where gone. "Goodbye Thine." Edward murmured, and he turned to go back through the door in the wall, 70s music fading to the loud thump of bass.
So sexy
Things are getting bloodier
WHY is that guy staring at my neck
Goodbye Edward, be safe.
The first three thoughts of some random woman made him smile, but the voice of the last was one he knew too well. He turned to find the door vanished, even to his eyes. He glided away from the crowd, when before he had so eagerly surged into it. He turned, walking out into the cold night that awaited him. One last glance back, and Lolita was watching him, a man at her fingertips, and she was whispering to her right-hand vampire, Lucifer. She sent him one last, wicked smile, and the door swung closed on the blood-mongering part of his life with a finality that turned his heart faster, almost convinced him his soul was in more pain than the dull roar of the predator within.
The black swishing cloak vanished darkly into the night.
(To be continued. . .)