Will o'the Wisp

by Hoodfabulous

Some legends say he's a man with the head of a pumpkin, leading people to their demise in the bog. Others say they're spook-lights, cast by spirits of the dead trapped on earth. But I say they're the lights of another world, the NeitherLands. One-shot.

Will O' The Wisp

Tricks AND Treats contest entry

Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: Some legends say he's a man with the head of a pumpkin, leading people to their demise in the bog. Others say they're spook-lights, cast by spirits of the dead trapped on earth. But I say they're the lights of another world, the NeitherLands.

Red and green lights blink starboard and port side on a barge drifting along in the veil of night. The vessel churns down a tar-black streak of river, heading in the direction of the moon.

Bella Swan leans forward on her hospital bed, tilting her head to the side and following the blinking lights until her eyes grow painful and sore. She blows out a sigh as the lights fade, and like everything else in her life, the boat is gone.

Picking at the tape securing her IV in place, she wishes she were on that barge. She rests her head on the pillow, closing her eyes and imagining living a life on the river. Cities and people pass by in her imagination. Old men fish on the riverbank, waving as she passes. Their weathered faces tell the tale of a long-lived life, a life she'll never have.

Tears tickle her eyes. They seep from the corners and drip down her face, soaking into the stiff sheet and thin blanket she pulls past her neck. A box of tissues rests on her bedside table. She reaches for it, her thin fingers pausing as a new glow catches her attention from beyond the glass window.

Near the foot of the hill below the hospital lies a forest, traveling along the river as far as the eye can see. A yellow-white glow flickers in the depths of that forest, swinging back and forth as though someone is walking with a flashlight, or perhaps the glow of a cell phone. Bella sits up in bed, tossing the covers aside and swinging her legs over the edge. Her cold, bare feet touch the tiled floor, sending a shiver deep in her diseased bones. Dragging the IV pole beside her, she crosses the short distance to the window. Her knees hit the salmon-colored couch where her mother spends all her free time on her tablet, searching for non-existent cures for all her daughter's ailments.

Bella's breath casts a white fog on the glass. She wipes it away with the back of her hand, peering down the hill and into the forest. The glow brightens and dances in

place, like the flicker of a flame, until it reaches the tree line. A great shadow lurks behind the glow, tall, flowing, and menacing, spilling onto the ground like great robes of darkness and death.

A burst of nurses' laughter echoes in the hallway, jarring Bella, and when she glances out the window once more, the light is gone. Her fingertips press against the glass, her eyes scanning and straining as far as she can see, but there's nothing except the lights from the parking garage below and the whitewash of the moon in the inky sky.

"Sweetie? What are you doing?"

Renee, Bella's mother, enters the room, a cup of coffee in one hand. Dark shadows sag below her blue eyes, her easy, calming smile no longer easy or calming, but forced, like so many other emotions. Hope, being the primary one. Bella's run dry of hope, dry as her parched lips. She reaches for the melting cup of chipped ice beside her bed and quenches a sudden thirst.

"Nothing, just looking outside." Bella sighs, glancing out the window one last time. "I thought I saw something in the woods."

Renee rushes forward, placing the cup of coffee on the windowsill and easing Bella from her perch on the couch. "You should get back in bed, sweetie. You've had a long day today. You need some rest so you'll have lots of energy to exercise tomorrow."

Bella nods, but doesn't agree with her mother. The day has been long, filled with nothing but walking back and forth down the corridor exercising her fleeting muscles, x-rays and needle sticks, nebulizer treatments and coughing up thick, mucus-like secretions. She's tired, but not in the typical sense. She's not exhausted from the events of the day or the drugs flooding her system.

She's tired of living.

Bella places her cup of ice on the bedside table and crawls into bed with Renee's unnecessary assistance.

Renee sits on the bed beside her daughter, tucking Bella's sheets around her the way she did when Bella was a little girl. The emaciated creature staring back at her is no longer a child, but also no longer a budding woman. The roundness of youth that had once melted from her face and found its way to her chest no longer remains. Ribs poke out from under her hospital gown with each rasping breath she takes. Her once curved and soft facial features now jut out from her pale face, sharp

and contrasting against her deep, warm eyes.

"Mama, I'm dying."

"Now, hush." Renee strokes her daughter's cheek, swallowing the urge to cry. "You're not dying. You're kicking pneumonia's ass one day at a time, and in a few more weeks you'll be starting chemo again."

Bella picks at the tape on her IV again, gumming her lips as her mother stands. Renee works the stress-induced kinks from her neck and back. Audible pops and creaks break the silence of the room before she stands in front of the window, sipping from her cup of coffee.

Past her mother, a light forms in the shadows of the thick cypress trees. Bella sits up in bed, pointing at the window. "You see that?"

Renee follows her gaze. "See what?"

"That light in the forest."

Renee gives her daughter a quizzical glance before stepping closer to the window. She sees nothing but the rippling current of the river dancing under the light cast by the moon. Fear creeps into her heart, forcing it to thump in an erratic rhythm. Feeling lightheaded, she turns to her daughter and forces that once-easygoing smile.

"The moonlight plays all sorts of tricks on the eyes, doesn't it?"

"I'm not talking about the moon. There's something in those woods. Someone walking with a flashlight or something."

"Baby, there's nothing in the woods. No one can walk between those trees. There's nothing but marsh there. Swamp water. Maybe you're seeing swamp gas?"

"It's a white light, and it's growing closer."

Panicked, Renee grabs the heavy drapes, hastily closing them as Bella protests.

"The moonlight bothers me while I'm on my tablet," Renee says, plopping down on the couch and turning on her lifeline. She types in the words "hallucinations in cancer," erases them, and types "hallucinogenic medications." She polishes off the remainder of her coffee, but doesn't feel energized at all.

"How does the light bother you?"

"It makes a reflection on the screen. Try and rest for a while. There're a few blogs I need to read about self-healing. Nana Marie sent me the links."

Bella groans, rolling her eyes. Renee's mother is a typical eccentric Southern woman. She's a self-proclaimed faith healer, a woman who believes candles and incense can woo away life's troubles. With her colorful moo-moos, chunky bracelets, and heavy earrings weighing down her paper-thin earlobes, she's always cast a bit of shame on Bella's name. When Bella was a child her classmates would tease her for being the granddaughter of the town nut. Bella worked hard her entire life to fit in, but it was all for naught. The teasing ended and the disease process began. Now she's dying. Life's so unfair.

"You should read this blog. This woman claims her daughter was cured of cancer by daily meditation. She'd imagine her body producing new, healthy cells, and over the course of a few months, she was cancer-free."

"That's all she did? Meditate?"

"Well, and the chemo, of course."

Bella smirks. "Of course."

Renee lowers her tablet, narrowing her eyes. "Just because you're sick doesn't give you the freedom to sass your mama."

"Yes, ma'am," Bella says, her voice growing quiet. "Mama, why's Daddy stopped visiting?"

Fingers trembling, Renee turns off the tablet and places it in the patchwork purse propped on the couch beside her. "Some people can stomach seeing the person they love the most suffer. Some people can't. Your daddy's the latter."

Bella nods, staring at the ceiling. Weeks have passed since she last saw Charlie. He came to the ER after Renee found Bella collapsed in the shower, gasping for air, and coughing up thick, yellowish-green secretions. The doctors diagnosed her with pneumonia, a result of her failing immune system. Charlie stayed by her side in the ER and for the first couple of days after she was transferred to a room for observation, but hasn't been by since. He was barely able to look his daughter in the eye while there, which didn't make Bella feel any better about his presence. He'd been practically a stranger since her parents' divorce ten years prior, making time for her when it suited him. Although they aren't as close as they were when she was a child, Bella loves Charlie and misses him.

"He won't see me again before I die."

"Jesus, Bella, would you stop with the dying talk?" Renee's voice takes on an uncharacteristic fury. "It's getting old quick. No one ever accomplished anything by wallowing in their own sorrows."

Bella digs her fingers into the thin mattress below her and takes a deep breath. "I'm not taking any more chemo."

Renee's anger slips, leaving her slack-jawed and stunned. "No more chemo?"

"No, no more chemo. I'll be eighteen soon, and I can make my own decisions." Bella sits up in bed, her gaze pleading. "I've accepted my fate. Why can't you?"

"Because you're my baby." The tears she shunned earlier now make their way down her cheeks, following the laugh lines that embrace her mouth, and wet her lips. "You're my baby and I can't imagine living in a world without you in it. A mother should never outlive their child. Never."

"A mother should never want their child to suffer, and I'm suffering, Mama. It's in my lymph nodes now. I can feel it, you know? I can feel it in my bones, rushing through my blood. I feel it swallowing me whole. It's greater than me. Greater than the chemo, greater than any herbs Nana Marie rubs on my body. Greater than the candles she lights and the chants she sings. It's greater than meditation and self- healing and blogs."

Bella coughs, her tight chest rattling. The coughs grow into fits. She sits on the side of the bed, sheets knotted in her hands, struggling to breathe. Renee stands, her eyes wide with panic and her hand hovering over the nurse call button, but Bella waves her away. Bella closes her mouth, breathing in slowly through her nose and holding the air in as long as she can. She exhales from her nose, continuing the routine until her heart doesn't feel as if it isn't about to burst right out of her chest.

Once Bella catches her breath, Renee raises the head of the bed using the controller attached to the side rail. Bella lies back, pondering briefly if she should call for someone to check her oxygen level. The doctor discontinued the continuous oxygen a few days ago, once her chest x-ray showed less infection since her admission to the hospital and her oxygen levels were well above ninety percent. There's been a noted improvement in her blood work as well, but that was then. This is now, and Bella knows better than anyone her health can take a nosedive in no time.

"Maybe Angie can talk you out of this nonsense," Renee says, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Almost nine. She'll be here any minute."

"What? Angie's coming by?" Bella's pulse quickens again. She swallows, closing her eyes and willing the spastic throb of her overworked heart to pass. "Visiting hours end at nine."

"Your favorite nurse is working tonight. She's making an exception." Renee kisses Bella's cold forehead, sweeping her sweaty strands of hair aside. "She said she's got a surprise for you."

As if she heard her name spoken, Angie knocks on the half-open door, poking her head inside the room. Grinning, she walks in, a large red and black duffle bag hanging from one shoulder. She drops it on the foot of Bella's bed, squealing and pulling her best friend in for a hug. The polyester-type material of Angie's cheerleader uniform scratches Bella's skin in an almost soothing way. Bella made the team the year prior to her diagnosis, but had to bow out. Endless days of nausea and vomiting made her miss practices to the point of Jessica Stanley, the head cheerleader, kicking her off the team.

"You ducked out of the Homecoming game?" Bella asks as Angie pulls away. "Jess is gonna kill you."

"Jess better be glad I even show up to practice after the way they treated you." Angie turns up her elegantly shaped nose. She has Greek features, or so says Nana Marie. Straight nose, shapely lips, coal black eyes, and olive skin.

"As much as I hate Jess, I don't blame her kicking me off the team. You know, after I threw up on her and all."

Renee cringes, but the girls laugh. The memory is tinged in humor, as most humiliating stories are after a fair amount of heartache and time.

Angie snickers, holding her belly. "And it was spaghetti, remember? Ugh, blood-red sauce and chunky, partially-digested noodles""

"Okay, okay, I think that's my cue to leave." Renee pulls her tablet from her purse and hesitates where she stands. She debates giving Bella another kiss, but backs out, not wanting to embarrass her daughter in front of her lifelong childhood friend. "I'll be in the cafeteria downstairs doing a little research."

"Research, I bet." Angie wags her eyebrows. "Don't think I didn't notice the cute docs eating in the cafeteria."

Smiling, Renee pats the shoulder of the girl she can barely tolerate. "Honey, those clearly weren't doctors. Doctors don't get breaks."

Without another word, the middle-aged brunette exits the room.

Bella releases the weight of the world in one massive sigh and points at the window. "You mind opening the drapes? Mama closed them because she thought I was hallucinating."

"Hallucinating?" Angie opens the drapes and sits on the salmon-colored couch, peering at her friend. "Why'd she think you were hallucinating?"

"Because I saw something she couldn't see."

"Like what?"

"A light. A white light." Bella chuckles at her friend's expression and throws her hands up in defense. "I know, I know. Don't follow the light. But it was so pretty."

"Your mom's right," Angie says, rolling her eyes. "You are delusional."

"No, I'm hallucinating. There's a difference between hallucinations and delusions. And Mama didn't say anything, but I'm sure she Googled it."

"Yeah, you're mom's been burning the midnight internet oil a lot lately."

"Meh, she thinks she can cure me." Bella shrugs. "Thing is, there's no cure. I'm dying and she's living in la la land. I guess I made things worse by telling her I'm not taking any more chemo."

Angie raises her eyebrows. "No more chemo?"

"No more chemo." Bella crosses her legs underneath her, turning in the bed slightly to face her friend. "I'm tired, Ang. Tired of checking in and out of the hospital. Tired of watching the world go by outside my window. Tired of being sick. I don't want to spend my last days on earth puking. Shitting on myself because I'm too weak to make it to the toilet. I wanna be in control of my own destiny, not holding on to some miracle that might not ever happen."

Bella holds her breath waiting on her friend to argue with her, to tell her she's crazy for not hanging on to any chance of recovery, but her friend only nods.

"Are you scared?"

"Terrified. What if everything I've been taught about the afterlife is nothing but a fairy tale? Heaven, Hell. Saint Peter at the Gate. Jesus sitting on the throne. What if there's nothing? That's what terrifies me the most. Not the lakes of fire, or getting

turned away at the gate. The thought of no longer being myself in any realm. Nothing but a great, black void. No memories of my family or friends. That's what terrifies me."

A soft knock sounds at the door. The two girls, who'd inadvertently been leaning forward while speaking, jump back in surprise. Renee rejoins the teenagers, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Phil called," Renee says, speaking of Bella's stepfather. "He misses me. I think I'll head home for the night."

"You mean you're not gonna stay here tonight?" Bella clutches her chest in faux shock. "How will I ever make it through the night without waking up to your snores?"

"Very funny." Renee grabs her purse from beside the couch. "I'm sure the nurses are sick of listening to me snore too. They've been gracious as it is to overlook the visiting hours rule for all of us. I don't wanna push my luck. Besides, you're looking better today. Much better."

An odd sense of foreboding washes over Bella. For the first time since being admitted to the hospital, she doesn't want her mother to leave. The strange desire stuns her into silence. Bella opens her arms, gesturing for her mother to envelope her in a hug.

Taken aback, Renee joins her daughter on her bed, allowing her to throw her skinny arms around her shoulders. Renee doesn't return the hug, too shocked at her daughter's sudden enthusiasm to respond. Bella's arms drop from her mother's shoulders, and she averts her eyes, not wanting Renee to see her tears.

"I could always stay ..."

"No, like you said, Phil misses you." Smiling with half her heart, she pats her mother's knee, nodding in the direction of the door. "Go. I'll be fine."

"Yup, she'll be fine." Angie grins like the devil. "I'll take good care of her, Mrs. Dwyer."

Frowning, Renee remembers their early teen years. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

The two girls laugh, and Renee says her goodbyes, closing the door behind her.

Angie moves the duffle from the foot of Bella's bed and sits in the spot it previously occupied. She unzips the bag, turning it over and shaking the contents onto the bed. Various items spill out: makeup and wigs, a rumpled bundle of something that

resembles a dress.

Bella picks up a long, brown wig. "What in the world?"

"I sort of borrowed a couple wigs from Bethany's bedroom, which, by the way, is super creepy now that she's started cosmetology school. White styrofoam mannequin heads staring at me from every flat surface in the room." Angie shudders. "So creepy. How the hell my sister sleeps with all those dummy heads staring at her, I don't know."

"Why'd you bring all this stuff?"

"Because I'm giving you a makeover, silly. It is Homecoming, after all."

"You want me to sneak out and go to the dance?" Bella glances at the clock, her heart picking up speed with her excitement. "The dance starts at nine. If we hurry, we can make it."

Angie drops the tube of lipstick she picked up, clearing her throat. "Bells, I thought we'd just, you know, have a little makeover or whatever. I don't think you're strong enough to sneak out to the dance. Besides, your mom would kill me if she found out. And she would find out. Rumors in this town spread faster than Jessica Stanley's legs."

Snorting, Bella agrees, holding the wig up in front of her. She straightens the blunt- cut bangs and combs her fingers through the long strands. Reaching for the scarf wrapped on top of her head, she pauses as her friend glances up at her. Bella pulls the scarf away, her throat tightening with anticipation and fear, but Angie only smiles at the downy softness that's grown on her once-bald head.

"It's black."

"What?" Bella asks, flipping the wig over before placing it on her head.

"Your hair's growing back black, not brown." Chuckling, she knots her own dark hair into a bun and places a blonde wig on her head. "Crazy how that happens, you know? Your hair changing color after the chemo makes it all fall out."

"I care less about my hair," Bella says, touching the area above her right eye, "and more about my eyebrows. I can always wear a wig, but painting on my brows? Some people can get away with fake eyebrows. I'm not one of those people."

"I'll draw them on and make them look natural." Angie digs through the various tubes

and compacts until she finds a white, plastic box. "And, I bought some fake eyelashes too. Don't worry, they're not too long, or gaudy, although I love, love, love the eyelashes with the diamond studs. Have you seen those?"

"Yes, and they look ridiculous. I'd look ridiculous."

"You'd look like a princess." Angie brushes the bangs of Bella's wig aside, securing them with a hair clip. "Ready?"

Bella closes her eyes, relaxing as Angie pours a little foundation on the back of her hand and dabs a makeup brush into the beige liquid. She touches the brush to Bella's face, biting her bottom lip in concentration. The more she paints on, the richer Bella's skin becomes. The pasty pale complexion glows in an almost golden, healthy tone. The dark shadows beneath her sunken eyes no longer stand out, and her sunken cheeks pinken with the stroke of another brush.

"Halloween's almost here," Angie says, picking up an eyeshadow brush. "My favorite time of the year. Remember when we were around eight and your mom brought us here after we finished trick-or-treating? She thought it'd cheer the patients up, but it backfired on us all because you were wearing that grim reaper costume? Oh my God. Remember that old lady throwing the bedpan at us?"

"I wasn't wearing a grim reaper costume," Bella replies, pouting. "I was dressed as a dark ninja."

"Whatever. You were carrying a scythe."

"It was a plastic sword." Bella tries her best to look annoyed, but Angie's laugh forces her frown away. "Remember when we were like ten and your dad let you throw that Halloween party at your house? Everyone wore scary costumes and sat around the bonfire making s'mores? Your dad told scary stories, stories his father told him as a child."

"Yeah, my dad loves retelling all those old stories, especially around this time of year." Licking her lips, she stares at the brush in her hand until it becomes a blur. "Things are different now. Mom and Dad are divorced. You're sick. Ben dumped me for that skeeze, Stanley."

"What a weird couple." Bella shudders, stilling as Angie touches the brush to her lids. A memory stirs inside her, a memory of sitting in the glow of a bonfire, the sparks from the flames dancing around her, taunting her. "Remember the story your dad told about Will?"

"Will?" Scrunching her nose, she stares at her friend in thought. "Oh, Will! Will 'O The Wisp, or as some people call him, Jack 'O Lantern. Yeah, I remember that story. How could I forget? He still tells it to this day."

Angie dusts sparkling eyeshadow on her friend's lids. She follows a faint line of fuzz above each eye with a brown eyeliner pencil. Bella giggles as her friend paints her lips a plum shade, and when she opens her eyes Angie's holding a small mirror in front of her face. Bella doesn't recognize the person staring back at her.

"I look ... normal."

"You look magical," Angie says, standing and shoving all the contents back inside the duffel, aside from the wad of sparkling jewels attached to gold tulle. "I hope you don't mind the dress. I thought about bringing it in a garment bag, but turns out I don't actually own a garment bag."

"Why am I putting on a dress?"

"I told you. It's Homecoming. Just because you can't make it to the dance doesn't mean you should miss out on all the fun." She unfolds the dress, smoothing wrinkles from the wadded up material. "Here, try it on and we'll take some pics, post them on Instagram. We'll be the hottest girls not at the dance." Angie picks up a pair of matching glittery gold heels from where they'd fallen on the floor. "I've even got you some shoes."

Bella stands, giving Angie a pointed glance as she reaches behind her neck and unties the hospital gown. Rolling her eyes, Angie turns, tapping her foot while Bella slips off her gown. The party dress hugs her body, cupping her breasts in the shape of a heart, and Bella's thankful she doesn't have to worry about sleeves and her IV. She slips her feet inside the shoes, almost losing her footing in the high heels.

She clears her throat and turns around, glancing over one shoulder at Angie. Angie smiles, steps forward, and zips up the back of the dress. The two girls giggle and Angie finds her phone, snapping a photograph of her grinning friend. Blinded by the flash of the camera, Bella blinks, but the glow remains long after the flash ends. The glow isn't consistent. It flickers and bounces, teasing her from the corner of her eye instead of the center. As Angie smiles at the photograph on her phone, Bella gazes in the direction of the glow, her throat tightening once she realizes the glow isn't from the flash of the phone, but from a floating object in the woods.

"What's wrong?" Angie asks, following her friend's gaze.

Bella drags the IV pole to the window, her right hand fingering a pendant hanging

from her neck. Nana Marie gave her the pendant and necklace almost one year prior, on Bella's seventeenth birthday. The jewelry once belonged to her great-great grandmother. Nana Marie instructed her to wear it at all times, and to skip a generation before passing it to the next female in the Higginbotham family. There wouldn't be another generation after her, Bella'd claimed. An only child of an only child, Bella was the end of the linage, but Nana Marie wouldn't hear of it.

"Look, it's back."

"What's back?"

"The glow in the woods. Can't you see? It's growing brighter and brighter."

The two girls stand so close to the window their noses touch the glass. Angie rests her forehead on the pane, allowing the outside coolness of the October air to soothe her heated face. Heated from sadness, the overwhelming urge to cry almost chokes her. Surely Bella is losing her mind, going mad from the meds or the disease. There's no glow in the woods, only the sooty darkness that consumes the swamp in the dead of night. Even the moon and the stars are cloaked in the shadows of drifting storm clouds, blotting them from sight.

Frustrated by her friend's lack of response, Bella taps the glass, pointing at the floating object in the distance. "It's right there. How can you not see it?"

Sensing Bella's distress, she doesn't reply. She continues gazing down at the lit parking garage, searching for a reflective device or something, anything that could explain what Bella's seeing, but finds nothing.

"Will O' The Wisp, the glowing man in the marsh." Bella chuckles, but it's dry. "Luring travelers to safety."

"Some legends say he's a man with the head of a pumpkin," Angie says, her voice distant, her memory of her father's tales fresh. "Leading people to their demise in the bog."

"Others say they're spook-lights, cast by spirits of the dead trapped on earth."

"But I say," Angie says, repeating her father's words, "they're the lights of another world, the NeitherLands. Neither here nor there, but caught somewhere between Heaven and Hell. Somewhere between life and death."

Silence envelops them. Bella's the first to speak. "Do you think that's Will out there? Waiting for me?"

"No," Angie responds, quirking a brow. "I think you should stop tapping the button on your Morphine pump and stay with us for a little while longer."

Bella shoulder-checks her friend, sending Angie into a fit of giggles. Resisting the urge to close the blinds, Angie guides a reluctant Bella from the window and back to the bed. The two girls pose for more photos, and Angie posts them on every social media outlet available on her phone. As ten o'clock approaches, Tanya, Bella's favorite nurse, knocks on the door, poking her head inside.

"I thought I heard giggling in here." Her gaze settles on Bella. She steps further inside the room, fumbling for words. "Wow, Bella, you look gorgeous."

"Thanks." Bella fans out the skirt on the bed, wishing she were anywhere but here. "Tonight was Homecoming. Since I couldn't make it to the dance, Angie thought she'd bring the dance to me."

"That's a great idea, girls. Wish I could bring in some chips and drinks, but your mom would kill me if I loaded you full of sugar and saturated fats."

The trio snicker. Renee's been on a crusade for some time now to eliminate all processed food from her daughter's diet, claiming it's poisoning her body. Bella finds this ironic, considering the medications pumped inside her veins have made her the sickest she's ever been.

"And she'd freak out if she knew you were still awake. How about saying goodbye to Angie and getting ready for bed?" Tanya smiles at Angie. "You can always see her tomorrow."

"Unless I'm dead," Bella pipes up with a wry smile.

Shaking her head, Tanya tells Angie goodnight, giving Bella a pointed stare. She exits the room, leaving the door open wide as she goes.

"You should at least talk her into turning off your IV long enough to walk downstairs. I wasn't kidding about the hot docs." Angie gathers her belongings, shouldering the duffle once it's packed and zipped.

"Pretty sure that's not gonna happen." Bella hugs her friend, resisting the strange urge to not let go. It's the same urge she felt when hugging her mother: an insistence to cling to her, to remember the smell of her hair, the warmness of her body, the comforting familiarity of her touch. "I'm going to miss you, Angie."

Body rumbling with laughter, Angie pulls away. "Hey, enough with the sad goodbyes.

I'll be back tomorrow, okay? And don't worry. I'll sneak in a slice of Mama's pumpkin pie. You can eat it when Renee's not looking."

"Mama's always looking."

Angie walks to the door, pausing before she pulls it behind her. "She's not looking now."

The door closes, and Bella's left alone to stare out into the darkness. The glow dances in place, taunting her, calling her name without breathing a word.

"No," she whispers to herself, picking at the IV tape. "She's not looking now."

Sitting on the stiff couch, Bella's mind wanders to the past. She remembers a time when she was bolder, full of laughter and light. At fifteen she and Angie snuck whiskey from Mr. Webber's liquor cabinet, drinking until they were sick and swearing off booze for the rest of their lives. At sixteen they "borrowed" Angie's sister's car, skipping school and taking it for a joyride across state lines, for nothing more than bragging rights. At seventeen Bella was diagnosed with cancer.

She never does anything halfway.

Soon she'll be eighteen. Soon, but not soon enough. There're no more goals to make, no more limits to push. Bella knows she'll never buy cigarettes legally. She'll never graduate high school, never vote, never go to college. She'll never have her first kiss, or her last. She'll never marry, never have children. She'll never grow old with someone by her side. All these things are out of her control, but tonight ... tonight she no longer feels helpless.

Tonight she feels reckless.

Bella drags the IV pole closer to where she sits. One push of a button and a handful of seconds later, the machine shuts down, the glow of the pump dying. Taking a deep breath, Bella rips the remainder of the tape from her hand and wads it into a ball, tossing it in a nearby trashcan. She jerks the IV from the back of her hand. A droplet of blood beads up on her skin. She presses her thumb to the spot, holding it there until the bleeding stops.

Like a child, she stuffs pillows under the blanket until it forms the rough outline of a body. She wads her hospital gown into a ball, placing it on the pillow at the head of her bed and tucking the bed sheet around it. Satisfied with her work, she cracks open the door and peers down the hall. Night shift always has fewer employees moving around. Tanya normally checks in every couple hours, so she doesn't have

long to sneak out of the building.

Once she's sure the coast is clear, she rushes down the corridor and around a corner, not breathing until the elevator doors ding and close in front of her. Slumping against the wall, she grins at her reflection in the silver metal walls. For the first time in weeks she feels like a regular girl, no longer a patient in a hospital. She could be anyone.

The elevator comes to a standstill, dinging as it stops. The doors whoosh open. People stand in front of the elevator, moving aside to let her by, but none of them are doctors or nurses. Staff have their own elevators, Bella realizes with a start, and she's even more confident with that revelation. She steps out of the elevator, following the signs to the lobby. People pass with admiring smiles, their eyes lingering on the sparkle of her dress, the puffiness of her tulle skirt.

Bella pushes open the glass doors of the hospital, sucking in the crisp, October air. Her lungs spasm and clench with the action, fighting against her will to rid the young girl of breath, but she doesn't obey. Breathing in through her nose and out of her parted lips, she walks away from the entrance of the hospital, past the parking lot, past the parking garage, until her sparkly heels sink into the soft grass between the hospital and woods.

She toes off her heels and relishes the late night dampness of the cool grass on her bare soles. She picks up her shoes and heads down the hill toward the woods, which lay half a football field away. Frogs and crickets surrender their song as she approaches. Even the lap of the river against the muddy banks grows still. The night grows darker, more menacing.

Her footfalls cease at the edge of the woods. Thick, dark clouds drift away from the moon, and the woods glimmer with the light on the dew. Renee was right. The woods are nothing but marsh. There's no glow of a flashlight, no Will waiting to guide her into the next life. Only disappointment waits for her in these woods.

A breeze billows by, stirring up the scent of the bog. Bella wrinkles her nose at the stench of rotting leaves, stagnant water, and the sourness of decomposition. Something long, sleek, and reptilian glides across the waters in the direction of the river. An alligator climbs out of the marsh and onto the steep embankment, turning to stare at her before lumbering downhill and into the river. Cold fear grips her, and she takes a step back, frozen in place at a movement in front of her.

In the distance a thick fog seeps in her direction, tumbling over itself in an endless gulf of gray mist. Skeletal fingers of fog form, grasping the empty air. Wrapping itself

around the soggy trees, it pulls and climbs its way through the forest. The fingers stretch out, reaching for her and missing as she takes a step back. A soundless scream tears its way from Bella's chest. She turns, Angie's heels falling from her fingers. Mud and grass cling to her feet and ankles, and she slips on the slick ground, landing on her hands and knees. Pain shoots through her diseased bones, blinding her until all she sees is whiteness.

She lies face down on the empty field until something winds its way around her ankles, tugging her across the slippery glass. She glances over her shoulder, her scream no longer soundless as the fog drags her into the marsh.

Bella doesn't get a good breath before she's taken underwater. Resisting the urge to scream or breathe, she digs her fingers into the ground. Mud cakes under her nails. Slimy roots and branches slide through her hands.

The ghostly fog snaps her frail body into the air and releases her. She sucks in a deep breath, floundering and screaming as she lands in the marsh. Black water swallows her, coating her gold dress in a film of filth. Pushing up on the heels of her hands, she rises from the murky water, standing and backing into a cypress tree. The water is only knee deep, but it might as well be the middle of the sea. Terrified to move, she leans against the tree, the stringy, wet bark licking the bare skin of her arms and upper back.

The fog ebbs and flows, sucking in and washing away like the tide of the ocean, until it washes away no more. The two skeletal hands thin out, sinking into the mass of white cloud and drifting away in the direction from which it came. Bella's gasps and cries are the only sound in the night, her childlike whimpers bouncing off the shallow water.

No longer bold or brave, Bella pushes away from the tree. She wades in the water, her saturated party dress clinging to her legs. She searches for the lights of the hospital in the distance, but there's nothing. Something slimy and eel-like slithers between her ankles, leaving a ripple of water in its wake. Bella swallows a scream, but yells her mother's name. She knows it's silly. Her mother is nowhere around. She's at home, entangled in the arms of Bella's stepfather. Still, Bella shouts her name, and then Angie's, and even Tanya's. She alternates wading in the water in one direction before turning and wading in another. Making circles around the trees, her screams transform into great sobs. Bella wants nothing more than to die on her own terms, but not in the marsh, not alone trapped in this ghastly bog of fear and hopelessness.

Urgent whispers fill the night air. Whispers and the splash of an object hitting the

water. Bella screams for help, pausing and listening for a response. At first there's no sound, but then the whispers begin again, one masculine, one feminine"both unfamiliar. Filled with terror, Bella sloshes her way to the widest cypress tree, hiding behind it.

A yellow-white light flickers, appearing to bob in the midst of the swamp. The flame dances in the night, swaying back and forth and casting a soft glow all around it. Bella presses the heel of her hand against her mouth, smothering the gasp threatening to erupt. The glow of the lantern casts light on the cloaked figure standing at the bow of a long wooden boat. Behind the figure stands another cloaked individual, her face also hidden in the shadow of a heavy hood. The second figure steers the boat using a long, curved paddle, the wood cut in the same shape as a scythe.

"There is nothing here," a male voice says, his keen eyes searching the darkness. "No splash of a lilaagort's tail, no flap of a vrane's wing."

"Which means we're drawing closer," the female voice whispers. "Cast your light all around. The sickness will make the creature crumble."

Bella sinks lower into the water, cringing as it ripples around her. The creatures don't notice. The male at the bow holds his lantern higher, until the glow of the flame scatters around him. The light creeps along the surface of the swamp, crawling closer to where Bella hides. Her eyes widen as the light spills on an insect skimming across the surface of the water. The insect is like none Bella's ever seen. About a foot wide and black as death, it skirts across the water as though it's dry land. Dozens of the insect's spindly legs twist and break as the light washes over it. The insect whimpers, jerking and crying until it grows still. It sinks into the water, emitting a sulfurous smell as it disappears.

The sickness, Bella thinks to herself. The robed figure said the sickness will make a creature crumble. The light made the insect spasm and curl into itself until it drew its very last breath. What would happen if the light fell on Bella?

"What if it's a drake?" the male whispers, quivering under his robe.

"A drake? Patrolling the marsh?" The female laughs. "Preposterous. The drakes never enter the marsh. That is our job and our job alone."

"The screams sounded human. If the drake heard the screams before us ..."

"The human is as good as dead." The woman sniffs.

The boat floats by Bella as she hides in the shadow of the tree. Flying insects drop from the air, sizzling and popping as they hit the water. The sleeve of the man's robe shifts. A white hand holds the lantern, yet black feathers poke out from inside the robe. The woman pushes her hood onto her shoulders, her eyes scanning the marsh around her. Her long, lavender hair is pulled to one side in a loose braid. Her skin is the color of a periwinkle night, and her features are round and soft: full lips, large, luminous eyes. Feathers drift from the boat, landing in the water near Bella. A sickly, sweet scent follows the boat as it drifts away, the smell disappearing along with the strange creatures.

Something spidery brushes against Bella's leg under the water. The insect from earlier, the large spindly-legged fellow, emerges from the marsh. He skims the surface, picking up speed the farther he travels, and again, Bella is left alone in the bog.

"The light doesn't kill. It stuns," Bella whispers to herself, her voice raising an octave. "Help! Please, come back and help me!"

Bella wades into the middle of the open water, screaming for the creatures. Her voice echoes in the trees, repeating itself again and again until it fades away. Several minutes pass by with no response, until a gust of wind slaps her in the face, hitting so hard she tumbles into the water. She stands, spinning around in place and searching for something, anything, and seeing nothing.

Wings flap above her, and the man descends from the night sky with his companion by his side. The half-man, half-bird thrusts the gold-etched lantern in her face.

"What are you?" he ask, his handsome face twisted in horror. Bella opens her mouth, but the woman is the one who responds.

"Why, she's a goblin. A goblin in a dress."

"Goblin?" Bella whispers, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass lantern. She'd lost Angie's wig sometime during her adventure in the swamp, leaving her virtually bald. The makeup has also washed away, her skin no longer alight with a healthy glow. Angie's wet dress clings to her gaunt body, exposing the sharp angles of her bones. A goblin, she thinks to herself. Yes, she looks like a goblin.

"I'm a girl. A ... human." Bella stumbles over the word, uncomfortable having to explain her own species. "I'm not a goblin. I'm sick."

"She is sick, Carlisle." The winged woman closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. "Poison lingers in her body."

"Yet she's unaffected by the ghost light." Carlisle narrows his eyes. "How did you find your way into the marsh?"

"I saw the glow of your light from my room in the hospital."

"Hospital?" Carlisle glances at his partner. "Do you know this strange word, Esme?"

"No, this isn't a word I'm familiar with."

"A hospital ... a hospital is a place where sick humans go to get well," Bella says, rubbing her hands briskly over her cold arms.

"But this hospital did not work for you," Esme says. "How peculiar."

"Peculiar indeed," Carlisle agrees. "Child, there is nothing near this marsh. Nothing for miles and miles. You must come with us before the drakes find you."

"No, I need to find the hospital. I need to go back before my mother finds out I've left."

The creatures exchange somber glances. Neither Carlisle nor Esme understand how this human-like creature found her way into the marsh alone, and sick at that, but they both know they must help her escape before the drakes find her and destroy her.

"You must come with us," Carlisle repeats. "Normally we sedate the humans with our light, but since it doesn't work for you, I'm afraid I'll need to do this."

Carlisle tosses the lantern to Esme and grabs Bella around the waist. Bella opens her mouth to scream, but the sound never comes out. Carlisle bends his knees, prepared to push himself and the girl from the swamp and burst into the sky. Water sloshes in the distance, the cry of an enormous steed causing Carlisle to lose his grip on the girl. She falls into the water and the winged creatures vanish, zipping away into the night sky.

A black steed crosses the bog, a lithe man sitting tall and proud on his back. The man's skin is a pale, cyanotic blue, his lips deeper lavender in color. His long, unkempt auburn hair falls over his forehead, curling around his pointed ears. His features are straight and sharp: deep-set jaw, pointed nose, and lean muscles rippling under the tightness of his tunic. The hooded cape he wears flutters behind him, caught in the wind cast by the speed of the horse. Bella half expects the horse to sprout wings or grow a horn, but the horse appears normal, aside from its massive size.

With nowhere to hide in the short distance between them, Bella doesn't move, aside from the chronic tremble from the cold. Her teeth clatter together, and her hands and feet have long gone numb. Neighing, the horse stands on two hooves, steam pouring from its flared nostrils. Its front hooves land on the water, along with the feet of the elfin man. The man stoops down, the murky water splashing against his knee- high boots. He peers into Bella's eyes, and she's overcome with a sense of dread. He's beautiful, the most beautiful man she's ever seen, and like all beautiful things, this means he's dangerous, possibly deadly.

The man cups her face in his hands, sending a deeper chill quaking in her bones. His touch is cold as death, yet soothing at the same time. His thumbs travel the length of her jaw, settling on a soft spot not far from her ears. Leaning forward, he smiles and asks for her name.

"Bella," she says, her lids growing heavy from the pressure of his thumbs. "Are you Will? Will O' The Wisp? Or Jack? Jack 'O Lantern?"

Frowning at her strange babbling, he presses deeper and deeper until her body goes slack.

He catches her in his arms, cradling her like a child. He holds her body for several minutes, watching her sleep. He's never seen such a girl. Skin over bone, a thin blanket of hair covering her scalp, purple bruises in the crook of her arm and the backs of her hands. She smells of something foreign, something that doesn't belong, but one thing is for certain, she's human and forbidden in this forest.

"I'm Edward," he whispers in her ear, one hand wrapping around her throat. "And by my father's will, I must end your life."

In the midst of the forest stands a tree, colossal in size and hollow. The center of the tree is cast aflame from inside, great blades of fire licking the night air. Edward dismounts his horse, dragging his listless captive with him and tossing her easily over one shoulder. He bangs on the carved door at the foot of the tree, waiting impatiently for his friend to arrive.

"Who goes there?" a deep voice growls from inside.

Edward chuckles and calls his own name. The door swings open and there Emmett stands, almost as gargantuan as the tree in which he dwells. He's extraordinarily large for a drake, his skin a touch darker and his bones thicker, all the makings of an excellent warrior, but that's not where Emmett's desires lie. He's been a healer since the pair were small boys. Edward is the warrior of the two, who, as a small child,

slayed baby dragons only to watch Emmett bring them back to life.

Emmett's jovial smile diminishes at the sight of the scrawny creature unconscious on Edward's shoulder. "What is that?"

"A human, I think." Edward glances over his shoulder, his stomach twisting. "You mind letting me in? The longer I stand here the longer I chance being seen by the guards."

Emmett moves aside, opening the door wider for his friend and shutting it behind him once he steps inside. He secures the door with a heavy lock and gestures at a bed in the far corner of the room. This is the place the wounded come when seeking health, a place where the drake heals the drakes. Never has Emmett cast his eyes on a human in the drake realm, and certainly not one inside his home.

"Where did you find her?"

"In the marsh, alone," Edward replies, gently laying the girl on the bed. "I was patrolling the borders when I heard her screams."

Bella smiles in her sleep, and Edward tilts his head to the side, sensing a strange urge to smile as well.

"Alone? How did she find her way into the marsh, hundreds of miles from the human realm?"

"I'm not sure she's from the human realm. She's speaks with a strange drawl, slow and thick. Nothing like I've ever heard before."

"If not from the human realm, then from where?"

Edward doesn't reply. Emmett paces the floor, fear budding inside his chest.

"Why'd you bring her here?"

"You know why. I need you to heal her."

"She's human. It's forbidden. If your father""

"I'm tired of being my father's mercenary." Edward's voice rises as he stands. He removes his hooded robe, casting it aside. "Heal her and I'll drop her back in the marsh. The Ari people will guide her home."

Emmett clenches his fists. "The winged do-gooders of Minco? You trust them to help

her? Their sole purpose in this forest is to dispose of any human intruders."

"The Aris have been smuggling humans out of this forest for years." Edward smirks at his friend's cynical scowl. "Still sour over that one Ari who rejected your advances, I see."

"I was drunk on mead. I'd never have given that hooved whore a second glance otherwise." Emmett sighs, gazing down at the thin girl lying on the bed. "You should head back to the caverns. Healing this girl will take all night."

"Not if you have someone to assist you."

Emmett kneels next to the bed, his fingers drifting over the girl's body. He pokes and prods at different areas, mumbling to himself below his breath. The girl never flinches. Em marvels at the coolness of her skin, cooler than death. He picks up one thin arm, brushing his finger over her bruised wrist. Using the tip of his sharp thumbnail, he punctures a vein and presses his lips to her flesh, drinking. Blood wets his tongue, the rusty taste souring his stomach. He seals the wound with a kiss and places her arm back on the bed.

Emmett glances up at his friend. "She has a disease humans once carried. This is an ancient disease, one that no longer exists. If we leave her be, she'll die within the week. The only reason she's alive now is because someone's been practicing a dark art on her. Her skin reeks of ancient herbs."

"The humans don't practice magic, enchantment, or witchcraft. You know this. It's forbidden. Punishable by death."

"Ah, but they once did. And obviously some still do." Emmett gestures to the girl. "But human witchcraft won't heal her. She's too far gone. We must clean her blood."

"How?"

"Expunge it from her body."

"Won't that terminate her life?"

"Yes, but she'll revive again in a few days." Emmett strokes her sunken cheek. "I believe she was once beautiful. For a human."

"Yes, I believe you're correct."

Emmett stands, running his fingers through his long, dark hair. "Why do you have

such an affinity for them?"

"They're no different from us. Taught to hate, bound by the love of their kinsman and the honor of their kingdom."

"We've defended our kingdom from the humans for decades, never once striking back. They are different from us. They're vile creatures. They see nothing but death. Death and destruction."

"Terrified of that which they do not understand. We are strange in their eyes, creatures who summon the dead and cast spells on our enemies. Their only weapons are the ones they can carry in their hands. Ours are inside our souls. We are much more powerful, and that terrifies them. They're little pups, and we, my friend, we're the wolves."

"They've killed our friends. Killed our kin."

Edward nods, swallowing. Memories come alive in the back of his mind, but they fade as the girl stirs in her sleep.

"This girl's killed no one. Of that I am certain."

"No, I suppose not. Stay here with her while I warm a bucket of water and herbs. The solution will help diminish the disease and also cleanse her skin. She deserves to be clean when she awakens, and not covered in marsh filth."

Edward nods, kneeling next to the girl and stroking her soft, downy hair. Most humans shake with rage when coming face to face with a drake, but this girl had cowered in fear. She'd stared at him with the eyes of someone who'd never seen a creature such as himself. As she sighs in her sleep, a warm affection settles over Edward.

Emmett climbs down the winding staircase several minutes later, bucket in hand, and sets it on the floor to Edward's right. Petals and grains float in the warm water, filling the air in a sweet, earthy scent. Emmett hands Edward a soft cloth, motioning to the girl.

"Wash her from head to toe in this potion," Emmett commands, rolling up the sleeves of his tunic. "The herbs will help draw the poison from her organs and bones and into her veins."

"I must undress her?" Edward's palms become sweaty. He touches the hem of her gown, hesitant to pull the dress down.

"You'd prefer I undress her?"

"No, I'd prefer you leave the room."

Chuckling, Emmett grabs his cloak from where it hangs near the door. "She'll need clothes once she awakens. I'll travel to the nearest market to fetch a suitable gown."

"And if someone questions you on your purchase?"

"I'll tell them it's a gift for my sister who's visiting soon."

Emmett pulls on his cloak and grabs his lantern, opens the door, and steps into the darkness. The heavy click of lock and key echoes inside the hollow tree. Edward dips the washcloth in the sweet-smelling bucket of water and herbs. He washes the girl's face, her hair, her neck. Droplets of water travel from her skin, wetting the soft sheets of the bed. He pauses over her chest, staring at the amulet resting at the soft curve of her breasts.

An oval amber stone rests in the center of the amulet, curls of flat metal twisting from the middle and lying flat against Bella's body. He flips the amulet over, dropping it in shock at the etchings he finds on the back of the metal and stone. Deeply inset in the metal lies the language of the drakes.

"Where did you find this amulet?" he murmurs, unclasping the necklace. "In Minco, perhaps?"

Minco is the land in which all species dwell, drakes and humans alike, for the sole purpose of trade. It is forbidden to spill the blood of another in the land of Minco, punishable by beheading. Decapitated heads rest on spikes bordering the land, a grim reminder of what shall happen to those who fail to obey the law.

Although all species are free to socialize in Minco, Edward can't imagine a drake selling anything to a human. Drakes sell to other drakes, and to the Ari and other dark species the humans detest.

Using the washcloth, he wipes the slime and filth of the swamp from her necklace and places it on a stool nearby. Edward tugs the dress down her body, past her breasts, over her hips, and away from her legs, leaving her naked aside from her underwear. Once white, the fabric is now brown with swamp water and molded to her body. He removes that too, wadding the clothes and throwing them in a bowl of fire roasting nearby.

Bella's lips have turned a shade of blue since he first saw her. For a moment,

Edward's heart races at the familiar color he's seen his entire life. He imagines her skin a different hue, her ears pointed and no longer round. He imagines her with a quiver and bow, laughing and chasing him through the woods, shooting animals with her bow and arrow while Edward slays their next meal with the blade of his sword. But her shallow breaths indicate the color of her lips is due to running low on oxygen. Edward drags his fingers through his hair; he can no longer prolong touching her body.

As tenderly as possible, he washes her flesh. He drags the washcloth over the slight swell of her breasts. A new kind of affection arises inside his heart. His attraction sickens him, but not enough to make it go away. Closing his eyes, he remembers the great wars of the past, of the human prince slicing his sister's throat, spilling her blood and ending her life. He remembers the mysterious way his brother vanished from Minco, how they'd received a lock of his hair a week later from a human page, quivering near the entrance between Minco and the dark forest. He remembers every heartache and sorrow a human has caused him, but then Bella whispers his name in her sleep.

And nothing seems to matter aside from her.

Emmett arrives an hour later. He finds his friend still at the girl's bedside, her body swathed in spiderling silk sheets. Em walks into the cooking area of the room and drops a basket of vegetables on the table. He tosses a wrapped parcel to his friend, who catches it easily.

"Dress her, and we will drain her blood."

"Has enough time passed for the disease to leave her organs and bones?"

"The potion works instantly. You did wash every inch of her skin?"

Warmth rises to Edward's face. "Yes."

Em smirks, shaking his head. "Why are you blushing, dear friend? Never seen a naked human before? Their bodies are much like ours, apart from the strange hues of their various parts."

"And how would you know?" Edward opens the parcel, turning his back to his friend and removing the sheets from Bella's body. He doesn't want to know if Emmett is staring at the naked girl.

"I know because I've seen a naked human before this day. On my first trip to Minco as a small child. Father would frequent the local taverns. A human stumbled from

one of those taverns, stripping off his clothes as he walked down the cobblestone streets, naked as the day he was born. Humans are odd creatures. So intolerant of the mead."

Edward struggles to clothe the listless girl in the gown. "Says the man who drinks to forget a certain Ari princess."

"She's beautiful," Emmett replies, his voice soft. "And stubborn. Disgusted by me. If not for my love of Rosalie, I'd never agree to help you with this human, although loving an Ari is much different from loving a human. At least I hold an affection for a creature of my same social standing."

"Love?" Edward laughs. "Who said anything about love?"

"You touch the girl as though she's made of glass. I've never seen you be so gentle with anything or anyone. You're a prince of war, yet you act like a fretful lover."

Edward doesn't respond. Emmett approaches the bed. He kneels beside Edward and tilts the girl's head to one side, touching her neck.

"We'll both expunge the blood together. Quicker, less painful for the girl. I'll drink from here, and you'll drink ..." Emmett lifts the long skirt, exposing her naked legs. He parts her thighs, pointing at the inner aspect of her right leg. "You'll drink from the artery there. You must help me hold her down. The pain is intense for drakes, and I can only imagine for a human. She'll come off the bed writhing."

"I believe I shall do this alone," Edward tells his astonished friend. "I'm the last face she saw before she passed out. I should be the first she sees when she awakens."

Emmett doesn't agree, but he knows his place, and his place isn't to argue with the son of a king. He climbs the stairs, blowing out candles as he goes.

A single lantern lights the lower room, casting ghostly shadows over the sleeping girl. Edward climbs onto the bed, stroking the slender column of her neck, pressing down on the skin until he finds the beat of her heart pulsing deep inside the artery. With his gaze settled on her face, he kisses her skin. She stirs in her sleep, moaning slightly. Using the sharp tip of his incisors, he bites, sinking his teeth deep inside her flesh.

Gasping from a sudden, fiery pain in her neck, Bella's eyes flutter open. The pain subsides, a torturous new sensation taking over her body. Waves of pleasure ripple through her. Heavy hands hold her down as she startles at something cold sucking and licking her neck. Her hands seek him out, grasping his long hair between her fingers and tugging. Her toes and fingers tingle, then go numb, as do her arms and

legs. Her quickened pulse weakens into a dull, dry thump.

I'm dying, she thinks to herself.But what a beautiful way to die.

"Kiss me," she whispers. "Kiss me before I die."

Edward drains the last of her blood and presses his crimson lips against hers, but it's too late for Bella to enjoy her first and last kiss. Too late, because the girl is already dead.

For three days, Edward is a constant at Bella's side. He hunts and gathers at night, bringing his daily catch inside Emmett's home to clean and cure. During the daytime, when most drakes sleep, he sits near a bowl of fire warming his endlessly cold skin, watching as the girl's paleness transforms. Her skin takes on the healthy hue of a light-skinned human. Her cheeks blossom into a rosy pink. Her dark hair grows, curling at the ends and flowing well past her shoulders. Soft tissue forms around her bones, fattening her into the curvy shape of a woman. Bella becomes a different creature from the goblin-like girl Edward found in the marsh, but Edward finds his affection is unchanged by the stranger resting in the bed. She is still Bella to him.

On the third day after death, her eyes open. A man sleeps beside her, his eyebrows puckered in worry, even in rest. One arm is tucked under his head as an impromptu pillow, the other wrapped around her waist. His body radiates coolness, but she feels nothing but warmth, the memory of a kiss fluttering in her mind.

Bella touches his lips, touches his hair. She touches the point of his right ear, marveling in the creature beside her. Rubbing her eyes, she wonders if this is all a dream. Surely she's delusional, as Angie said, or maybe the hospital staff found her wandering in the swamp, forced her back inside the hospital, and pumped her full of drugs.

The creature beside her seems real enough. She feels the heaviness of his arm, the protectiveness of his tight grip around her waist. Despite the coolness of his flesh, her skin grows warm. Butterflies spin inside her belly. She knows she must leave this place. She must return to the marsh and find her way back to the hospital, but when his eyes open fully and rest on hers, returning home doesn't seem so important anymore.

---

Awards:

Second place judges' choice

The Reaper of Gluttony award

Judge's choice- Hadley Hemingway

Judge's choice- QuinnLark

Validator's choice- Dinia Steel

Secret Keeper's choice (tied)- Luvmi4alwyz

Third Place public vote

Mina Rivera made the gorgeous winners' banners. Join the Tricks and Treats FB group to see all the pretty banners and more contest chat. Thank you to OhGeeFantasy and the entire Tricks AND Treats contest team for hosting such a fun and classy contest. Special thanks goes out to Jonesn for prereading, kitchmill for her betaing skills, and for being such great friends. Love you girls!

---

So many of you reached out to me via email and messenger and sent me your copies of this one shot to repost. I won't list everyone because there are so many of you who had copies! Just know I love each and every one of you. My readers always come through for me.