There came no day to renew the sense of time, no night to quiet the hard beat to which all things now danced their tired waltz. My immortality stretches out before me and into the eternities, which I have learned do not reveal themselves with time. There is the same darkness there was years ago, and years before that. It does not change—I do not change. Ageless, flawless, childless I remain...I persist...touch the world when and where I desire, and remain untouched.
Emmett came up behind me and I felt his soft breath on my neck. His smell was so distinct—the wind before a storm...leaves in early autumn...the subtle, warm scent of dry wood. I reached a hand back to touch his hair, quite damp from the rain. He rested his chin on my shoulder and sighed, running his hands down my arms. His fingertips trailed streaks of blood as they traveled. I inhaled the aroma of fading life and felt the monster rise within me. The bear twitched one last time beneath my hands, made a low, pitiful sound, and was still. Emmett kissed my cheek lightly.
"Well done." he whispered. I looked down at our entwined arms, the pearly skin shining wetly in the half-light, and smiled. Emmett's large hands covered mine now, pressing the thick fur of the grizzly into a bloody, matted mess. I inclined my head towards him,
"I believe that's a new record." I murmured. He laughed softly,
"Twelve seconds," he said, "I'm actually quite impressed." The scent of blood filled the air now, fragrant and overwhelming. I turned my head further and saw the hunger—the monster--in my husband's aurulent eyes. I challenged it with a level stare, and it submitted. No one else could do that to Emmett. I drank first—even when I'm not the hunter, Emmett lets me have first draw. It's quite gentlemanly, really.
We returned to the house late that night—sometimes we like to take our time in the woods. I could hear the others moving around inside before we even reached the door. Esme was upstairs—her soft, staccato steps were very distinct. Esme reminds me of a doe—graceful, shy, harmless. She is simple.
Edward was playing the piano. The notes rose and fell in mechanical waves—he was playing Dvorak, or a ghost of it. One of the notes fell flat, and there was an awkward pause resembling that of the instance after someone drops a plate. The pause was a bit drawn out, and I could imagine Edward's face—brow slightly furrowed in confusion, eyes narrowed as he searched through the shadows of his stumbling mind for the right memory, the right note to complete the phrase. The song started up again, slow and unsure, and I felt a swell of pity for my brother. The feeling passed quickly, though, when I sensed Bella's slow gait moving towards the piano. Emmett and I were at the door, now, and I paused before touching the handle. I heard Bella sigh heavily, and the song trailed off.
"We have a lot left to do, my love." she said smoothly, her voice like music in an empty hall. Edward said nothing, and Emmett pushed me gently forward. I understood—they would have realized we were there by now, and I suspected that they would not tolerate eavesdropping well at this moment. I opened the door, and we stepped inside. Emmett pulled off my damp, unnecessary jacket before removing his own.
"Let's go down to the garage," he said casually, though his eyes communicated urgency, "take a look at the Murcielago." I raised an eyebrow at him and he tilted his head, mouthing, "Hurry."
"'Kay." I answered lightly, pulling my wet hair back into a ponytail and starting towards the stairs. Emmett hurried after me, and I caught a brief glimpse of Edward and Bella as we rounded the corner. Edward sat on the piano bench, slouched, his eyes on the floor. Bella rested a hand on his shoulder and looked expectant, her large amber eyes intent on her husband. Emmett acknowledged them with a wave, and I nodded in their direction. Before they could respond, I dove down the stairs, Emmett close behind. We reached the garage, closing the door quickly behind us. I put a hand around Emmett and pulled him close, standing on tiptoe to put my mouth to his ear,
"It won't be long." I whispered as softly as possible. It was hard to be secretive in this house. Emmett ran a finger down my neck, bending his own to whisper,
"We can only hope."
Forever is a very, very long time to be around. You don't hope for too much, after a while. It becomes old, redundant, when you've experienced it more than nature intended you to.
Sometimes, though, even vampires are given something to hope for.