WARNING: Originally written for the Seven Deadly Sins Contest, I didn't manage to get it finished in time and so I am sharing it with you now. One of the rules of the contest was that, as the sins were 'deadly', death was permitted. And so, just this once, here is your 'major character death' warning.

Thank you to my friends, loopylou992, for keeping me motivated, and my beta, mxpi1970, for her ongoing support.

Written for Sara L Black – I finally made good on my promise!

As Night Steals the Day

It began the night that Carlisle, being the kind and caring man he was, brought home the stranded woman he had so gallantly rescued. I remember thinking at the time that had it been me in her position, I would have been a strung-out mess of worry and panic, yet she was calm, almost serene.

Carlisle had come home late that evening, our anniversary, a message on my phone telling me he had stopped to help a passerby. I had dinner warming in the stove, the table laid with a white lace cloth and the best china, when the door opened to reveal my handsome husband laughing at something said by the woman following him into our kitchen. I was startled and tried to hide my immediate unwelcome thoughts at this late intrusion into our evening plans. Carlisle kissed me, just like always, and stepped back to introduce the blonde beauty.

"Sweetheart, this is Rosalie Hale. Rosalie, this is my wife, Esme."

"Pleasure." She inclined her head, a slow blink the only other movement that I could see. She extended her hand in a graceful, yet deliberate movement, and I found myself fighting the urge to recoil from her presence, an eerie feeling of unease rippling down my spine. Her hand was cold, and at my gasp, she and Carlisle spoke in unison:

"Bad circulation."

Their simultaneous words accompanied by her girlish laugh set my teeth on edge, and I struggled to rein in my dislike of this woman that had done nothing to deserve such a violent reaction. Listening to Carlisle tell the story of her rescue from the roadside, I nodded and forced a smile in all the right places, making coffee and enquiring how Rosalie liked it.

"None for me, thank you so much, Esme. I don't care for it."

Hearing my name from her lips sent a shudder of revulsion through my soul, yet I handed Carlisle his mug with a smile and a subtle nod to the table. Seeing his eyes widen in recognition, it surprised me when Rosalie spoke.

"Your husband tells me that tonight is a special occasion. I am sorry to crash – it's unforgivable. Could I call a cab from here? I'd like to go home before the weather worsens later tonight."

I saw his decision before he made it, his personality so noble that it was a forgone conclusion how he would react.

"No need; I will drive you home. I insist." His tone brooked no argument, and she nodded her consent with a dazzling smile.

My first thought was:

Round one to Rosalie.

~xXx~

He was gone a little over 45 minutes, and by now dinner was on the critical list. I paced the kitchen, sipping coffee and waiting for headlights to flash across the kitchen blinds. When they finally came I sagged with relief. He walked in, looking apologetic and remorseful, and of course I could not be angry with him. It was his nature to help others less fortunate, and being a doctor he would not allow another person to suffer when he had the means to make their lives better. It was one of the reasons I had fallen in love with him – his altruistic nature.

We ate our ruined dinner together without complaint, drank a glass of celebratory wine, and made our way to bed, the hour late. Despite the hour, we made love, although I was somewhat distracted by the evening's events. I don't believe Carlisle noticed, and I'm sure that any comparison to our glamorous interloper from that evening was entirely in my own head.

The morning came, and Carlisle was out of bed bright and early as always, showering and heading off to the hospital, leaving me with his customary kiss and a wink at the door. My smile tugging at my lips, I watched him go before starting the day's chores, starting with last night's dishes. My favourite radio station kept me motivated, and before long the carpets were vacuumed, the bed made, the flowers in the dining room checked and any showing signs of wilt were removed. I loved our home, modest but comfortable, and took pride in its upkeep. My own work was less demanding – I sourced furniture and furnishings for a leading home style magazine – and I loved the thrill of finding the perfect piece for a shoot, knowing that a new designer's career could be launched by that one mention in glossy print.

Settling down to work, I heard a scream some distance away, that made me start. No doubt it was children playing, or maybe a wild animal calling to its mate, and I tried to shake off the frisson of discomfort that sat on my shoulders. Eventually I gave up trying to work, feeling on edge and watching the clock for Carlisle's return. It was foolish to feel so rattled by nothing, and yet...

The hot water sluicing down my body helped to calm me, the comforting aroma of lavender surrounding me in the shower steam. Squeezing out the water from my tresses, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and padded through to the bedroom to dress. It was the work of moments to find a pretty dress that I knew my husband was fond of, my hair drying into its customary brunette waves down my back.

Outside the sun had set, early evening creeping across the windows, and I stood up to close the bedroom drapes against the encroaching darkness. My breathing caught in my chest, my fingers gripping tight to the window ledge when I saw a flash of something cross my vision. It was so fast that I could have imagined it, yet something told me I hadn't.

To my overactive mind it had looked like blonde hair.

Tearing myself away from the window, I ran downstairs to start on dinner, trying to shake the ridiculous thoughts from my head. By the time Carlisle came home I had gathered myself enough to serve the al dente pasta and bolognaise without my hands shaking. All was well until, whilst washing the dishes, I saw the bright flash again out of the kitchen window. My muffled scream was drowned out by the smash of the plate hitting the tile and shattering into tiny shards. Carlisle came running and found me shaking on the floor, my finger sliced open from trying to pick up the sharp, splintered shards with my wet, bare hands.

"Sweetheart, what is it? You're shaking. Come sit down and let me tend to this."

I sat down, feeling him check the cut before applying cream and a band aid. I watched him sweep up the tiny pieces of china into a dustpan, checking the floor for any last tiny fragments before wiping up the spilled soapy water. I could see he was perturbed by my silence, the aura of fear I was no doubt generating which defied explanation.

Twice.

How could that be my imagination? Something wasn't right. It sounded crazy to me in my own head and yet... and yet I felt I was being watched.

~xXx~

A couple of days later, I made my regular trip to the market for the weekly groceries. I was doing just fine, my list almost complete, until I turned a corner and came face to face with a blonde haired woman. In my shock I almost crashed my shopping cart into a display of soap powder. I apologised far more than necessary to the woman I startled, backing out of her way and headed off toward the bakery before my unsteady legs could buckle.

This was ridiculous. I needed to snap out of this – after all, I would never see that woman again. I did not allow myself to think of her name for fear it might just enable her to manifest.

So very foolish.

So very naive.

Carlisle came home that evening with news of a conference he was to attend in Washington. He told me all about it over dinner; it transpired he would be gone overnight, travelling with Dr Gerandy, and picking up a new locum en route. I knew that he would enjoy the event, but also knew my husband well enough that he would rather be home. I packed for him, his hands, so precise and delicate in surgery utterly useless when packing a simple shirt without creasing it. We talked about the trip and I saw his concern about leaving me; I reassured him with having lots of work to keep me occupied in his absence.

Closing the case, he sat down next to me, pulling my hand into his.

"I hate leaving, you know that. Are you sure you're going to be alright? How about asking Bella over to stay? Have a proper girls' night – a bottle of wine and a catch up might be just what you need."

His loving eyes were full of concern, and I smiled in spite of myself.

"That's a great idea. I'll give her a call. I know she's been a bit low since Jake left her. It's been too long since we've spent time together."

His smile lit up my world just like it always did.

"Well, I hope you have fun. Not too much – remember to think of me all alone in my sad little hotel room... missing you..."

I grinned then, unable to resist his sad, puppy expression.

"Let me give you something to remember until you get home then..."

We giggled like naughty teenagers, falling back on to the bed, lost in each other in seconds.

Beyond the window, far out in the trees, an animal snarled.

~xXx~

"Bella? It's Esme!"

My hand smoothed the coverlet in an absentminded movement when my friend picked up the phone.

"Esme? Hey there! How've you been? How's that gorgeous man of yours?"

I heard the smile in her voice and an involuntary blush coloured my cheeks.

"Still gorgeous and wonderful, I can't lie. That's actually why I'm calling. He's away for a couple of days and I thought it'd be a great chance for us to catch up. It's been too long."

"It has – a couple of months at least. When did you have in mind? Tonight?"

I smiled; happy we were on the same page.

"That would be great. Bottle of wine and an old movie?"

"You're on! How about Dirty Dancing?"

We sighed in unison. "Patrick Swayze..."

"Done deal. I can grab some wine and be there about seven?"

"Looking forward to it, Bells. Let's put the world to rights."

"I think that'll take at least two bottles, a chocolate binge, and a sleepover."

I laughed, relaxed and happy.

"Bring your PJs, girl. Let's do tonight in style."

Saying our goodbyes for now, I hung up and set about getting some work done ahead of my evening of takeout food, old movies, and good company.

Eating a light lunch while I worked, I barely noticed the passing of time until shadows fell across the kitchen table. Stretching my arms and neck, I pushed back the chair and made a fresh pot of coffee, one eye on the clock. Bella would be here in less than an hour, so I reached into the cabinet for two wine glasses, plates and a bowl for the popcorn. When the phone rang, I reached over, expecting it to be Bella on her way.

"Sweetheart? I just wanted to hear your voice. It's been a long and somewhat dull day." His voice was full of chagrin. Carlisle was not one to speak ill of anyone, but he did hate having his time wasted and this trip clearly was not going well.

"Darling – I was thinking about you. Is the conference disappointing?"

"Somewhat dry, I must admit. G loves it of course – he's taken the locum under his wing. Nice lad. I feel a bit of a spare part – there's nothing much to do after hours. How's your day been?"

"It's been good – lots of work done and I found the most darling piece for that new spread in H&G. The editor is going to love it – wonderful new designer from Seattle. Oh, and Bella's coming over in a few minutes. We're having a movie night."

"Dirty Dancing?" I could hear the smile.

"How did you know?" I spluttered with laughter.

"I could get paranoid, you know – Patrick does have that body, while I..."

I cut him off right there.

"And you have so much more than that." My voice dropped to a purr. "Something I will happily prove to you when you come home."

I loved his chuckle that drifted down the line directly into my ear; it felt like he stood right behind me.

"I better let you go and get ready. Sleepover I assume?"

"Of course."

"Wonderful. Oh, guess what happened today? So odd – I could have sworn I saw that Rosalie woman at the conference! It was strange. I was convinced it was her and went to say hello, but she vanished. I must have been mistaken. Okay then, Sweetheart, I'll leave you to your evening of debauchery with Patrick."

I could hear the love in his voice, but I felt an arctic cold engulf me that chilled me to the bone.

"See you tomorrow, darling."

I hung up, willing Bella to arrive soon.

She arrived on time as always, brandishing two bottles of good red wine. I was so relieved to see her that I chattered on for a moment, filling the room with sound and life. I saw Bella tilt her head, but kept silent. I handed her the menus and told her to choose.

"Chinese? I could go for chicken and broccoli. No – pizza! Let's get one with the lot. And dough balls!"

I smirked at the look on her face then. She laughed.

"Every time I bite into one I can think of that cheating bastard and the pain he deserves to have inflicted on him."

"Oh agreed. So – extra large and two orders of dough balls it is. I'll let you open the wine while I order."

Half an hour later we had a steaming pizza to cure our appetites and wine to loosen our tongues. She told me all about her cheating ex and his new girl that he'd been seeing at the same time as Bella. I was appalled and very glad I was lucky enough to have Carlisle. She was chewing down on her last dough ball with some satisfaction when she posed the question I didn't expect.

"So what's up, Es? You're jumpy and I've never know you to be on edge like this. Spill it."

I opened and closed my mouth for a moment, sipping my wine to give me time to find the words before beginning a cautious retelling of the night that she came into our lives. After a pause, I also told her about what I thought I'd seen, expecting her to laugh. I was surprised to find her watching me, a serious expression on her face.

"She came here, and now she's at his work thing? Sounds a bit suspect to me. You think she was here, spying on you?"

I felt ridiculous and paranoid, yet found myself nodding.

"Do you think I'm going mad, Bells?"

"I think it's a good thing I'm here tonight. That's all."

We settled in to watch Baby carry a watermelon, stumbling her way into Johnny's Castle's world, and I tried my hardest to push that woman far from my mind.

Two empty bottles later, I made coffee before we turned in for the night. My bed felt far too big without my husband beside me; I slept hugging his pillow for comfort and protection.

I sent Bella home in a cab the next morning, both of us promising not to leave it so long next time. When she left the house felt too empty and I switched on an oldies station to add some upbeat atmosphere to the quiet. The phone rang and I picked it up, all ready to speak to Carlisle and find out when he would be home. Instead, the voice was female.

"May I speak to Carlisle, please?"

I expected it to be a secretary from the hospital until a voice in my head reminded me that the hospital always asked for Dr Cullen, never by his first name.

"I'm sorry; he's not home at the moment. Could I take a message?"

I heard a tinkling laugh and the hairs on my neck rose in warning.

"Oh, I hoped he would be home by now. I missed him at the conference and wanted to make sure he wasn't offended that we didn't get the chance to speak."

I swallowed hard.

"Who is this please?"

"Oh I'm sorry, Esme – this is Rosalie Hale."

I focused hard on keeping my voice cordial.

"Well, if you were there then you know it's a long trip. Plus they're car sharing so there are others to consider." I inwardly wondered how she had gotten home so fast.

Obviously she didn't stay the night, did she.

I found that thought comforting at least.

"I'll give him your message, Ms Hale."

"Thank you so much. Sorry to disturb you."

And with that, she hung up. I stared at the handset for a long moment before replacing it on the hook. I felt irrational anger at her presumption that she could call us at home just because they had met once. Who did that? Called a stranger for no reason? Forcing my hands to relax, I set about fixing a snack for breakfast, but realised my appetite was gone.

When the door rattled and Carlisle walked in, it was all I could do not to pour it all out to him. He set down his bag and held out his arms for me to nestle into which I did with a happy sigh, loving how they tightened around me. My face was nuzzling into his neck when I saw the band aid. I pulled back, my hand reaching up.

"Darling, whatever happened? Did you cut yourself shaving?" He looked vague, his eyes not quite right, and I made him look at me. "Carlisle? What happened?"

"Shaving, yes – that was it. I'm not usually so uncoordinated. I must have done it last night before bed."

I frowned.

"Think, darling – did you do this before you went to bed? Did you patch yourself up or did someone else do it? You're not making sense and it worries me."

His hands found mine and clasped them.

"Yes, it was a couple of nicks and I cleaned myself up. Bled a little on the bed though - I apologised to the maid service and stripped the bed myself. I'm sorry, my love, I feel a little bit woozy; I'll just go lie down for a few minutes."

"Of course; I'll be up in a minute to bring you a drink."

I heard his slow footfalls on the stairs and the creak of the bed when he lay down. I filled a glass with water and followed him up. He was sprawled across the bed, fully dressed right down to his shoes which I untied and slipped free from his feet. A light snore escaped him, and I marvelled at how fast he had fallen asleep. I smoothed his hair back from his brow, feeling his warm breath on my wrist, my fingers touching the band aid to gently pry it free. I felt a shudder of unease when I saw the two small wounds in his neck. Shaving nicks? Those weren't nicks – they were puncture wounds and they scared the hell out of me. Pressing the band aid back into place, I curled up next to the man I loved and tried to protect him from something I didn't understand.

Outside in the woods beyond our garden I heard the sound of sharp screams. It sounded like a fox was on the hunt.

~xXx~

He woke an hour or so later, his mood a little more abrupt than I'd ever known him to be. He drank the water I'd placed beside the bed and looked at me for a moment; it was as if he didn't know how to react to me. I stroked his arm, my fingers wanting to be held in his, but instead he got up and walked out of the room without a word.

I left him alone to shower and rest, not sure what was happening to the man I adored. It was another couple of hours before he appeared, a different man. His face was wreathed in smiles, his eyes full of the warmth and love I was used to seeing every day of our marriage. I didn't question it; I just hugged him, accepting his kisses and caresses, needing his love.

This time however, something was definitely different. Our lovemaking had always been energetic and loving, each knowing the other well enough to be able to surprise them. Today it was as if a stranger had come to my bed; he was rough and intense, no longer my gentle lover, but dominant, forceful and focused solely on his own needs. When it was over, I was left in pain, bruised both in body and mind, trying to believe that my Carlisle was still in there somewhere. He didn't appear to notice my reproachful look, turning away without a backward glance.

Trying not to show how sore my body felt, I made my way downstairs to try and distract myself with a little TV. The local news station had a breaking news bulletin: a local girl had been found dead that evening, killed by what they believed to be a wild animal. I shuddered then, remembering the high screams I had heard outside from the wildlife. My fear was starting to feel far less irrational. It wasn't until the news gave out the name of the identified victim that I screamed, my hands over my mouth; my body buckled and slumped to the carpet, tears streaming down my face.

It was Bella Swan.

~xXx~

I woke in bed to feel Carlisle's warm hands checking my pulse and my breathing, and realised I had passed out. The memory flooded my mind again and tears ran afresh down my hot cheeks to pool in my ears. My best friend was gone, the one person I could really open up to - killed by some animal. How? Why wasn't she in a cab or at home? Where would an animal have found her? Bella didn't go hiking or camping – she liked home comforts and warmth.

Liked. Past tense, Esme.

My breathing hitched.

"Find... out... what happened? Please, Carlisle? I have to know. Her poor father; Charlie must be distraught."

He tucked the covers around me and I realised I was shivering. He looked at my arms for a moment, seeming confused when he saw the bruises marring my usually pale skin.

"I'm going to ring the hospital now. We'll find out what happened, Sweetheart, I promise. Sleep now."

He held out a sleeping pill and a glass of water, and I gratefully took them, welcoming oblivion for a little while.

The dream felt very real.

I wasn't myself, I couldn't see a reflection of my body, but I felt different, more primal and powerful. It was how I'd imagine a lion would feel when on the hunt. This body was hungry... so very hungry, its mood dark and frightening. I saw a man, helpless and pinned down, under its thrall, not fighting or struggling... submitting to who or whatever I was.

In my head I heard laughter, saw the blood on the man's neck that was licked away before he was laid back down, dazed and... Was he drugged? No... He was calm – almost vacant. And he was very much alive still.

He had no idea what was going on and neither did I.

What filled me with horror was that the man was my husband.

When I woke it was dark, the drapes still open. I could hear the soft voice of my husband downstairs, talking to someone on the phone. I remembered afresh and pain stabbed my heart at the loss of my friend. I struggled to sit up, feeling the after effects of the sleeping pill, just as something pale flashed past the window, bright as a shooting star in the gloom. A strangled scream escaped my lips, bringing Carlisle running upstairs to my side.

No matter how I tried, I couldn't explain what I had seen and why it scared me so much. I could see Carlisle's confusion at my state, my erratic behaviour and speech making little sense to my own ears, much less to a professional. The overwhelming feeling I got was his worry for me, that I was having a breakdown due to Bella's untimely death. I couldn't make him see it had started way before without having to say the name of the woman that had triggered it all. When I finally uttered the words, his brow creased in confusion.

"What on earth would this have to do with Rosalie, Sweetheart? I hardly know the woman. You're not making any sense at all. You're very confused right now and it's not surprising. Now, I've spoke to the hospital and they said it was some kind of animal attack – that's all I could get out of them. I wasn't aware we had big cats in those woods, but who knows? They are deep and I've never been that far in."

He shook his head, rubbing his eyes.

My voice was sandpaper.

"Charlie?"

His face fell.

"He was at the hospital when she was brought in. There was nothing they could do – she was already gone. He's a mess right now." My heart hurt for the Chief who adored his only daughter from his failed marriage. They had had a strange relationship to some, but they loved each other; so alike is many ways. "It looks like the funeral will be next week once the autopsy is..." His words tailed off when he saw my face, his arms reaching out to keep me safe.

I buried my face in his chest.

My sleep that night was fitful at best.

~xXx~

The morning dawned and for once Carlisle was staying home with me. While I drank my coffee I remembered the telephone call.

"Darling, I should have told you. There was a phone call for you yesterday morning from..." I struggled to say her name, "from Rosalie Hale. She wanted to say how sorry she was that she didn't get the chance to talk to you at the conference."

His face was one of pure confusion.

"She was there? How strange. Huh." He looked a little vague again, his eyes unfocused for just a moment, then he was back. "Oh well, if she calls again I'll talk to her, but honestly I have no idea why she was there in the first place or why she felt the need to find our phone number." He looked over at the refrigerator. "Have we any bacon? I'm famished." I nodded and went to stand, but he stopped me.

"Let me." Sure enough, bacon, eggs and sausages were soon cooking. I could barely manage more than a rasher of bacon, but Carlisle ate like a starving man, mopping up his egg yolks with bread and downing more coffee. While he washed the dirty crocks, he seemed distant; pausing only to look in the cabinets for crackers which he proceeded to eat at some speed.

"Darling? Are you feeling alright?"

He turned to me with that odd look again, and I shivered.

"I'm just hungry this morning, that's all."

I nodded.

Later that afternoon, I heard him on the phone again. I tried not to listen, but his low voice sounded incredulous, and I listened despite myself.

"Completely drained? But what could do that? This is insane. So when can the body be released? Okay... keep me updated. Yes... yes... okay. Thank you."

He replaced the phone into the cradle with a sigh. I walked into the room and went to pour myself a glass of water.

"Has there been any more news?"

"Nothing conclusive. How are you feeling?"

"Awful. I can't make sense of it all."

"I know. It's a tragedy; I feel it's my fault for suggesting you call her."

My eyes flew open wide.

"No! No, of course it's not! The idea would have come to me on my own anyway – I so missed her..." My voice cut off again, the words too painful. "Are there any suspects yet? Have the police talked to Jake? Who knows what that guy could be capable of? The dirt bag was cheating on her you know, with that girl, Jessica, from the store in town."

"I'm sure the police will follow up any leads, Sweetheart, and honestly, if he finished with her then he had no reason to hurt her, did he? She didn't try to win him back from what you said. She was happy to be rid of him."

I sank into an armchair. "You're right. He's an idiot for letting her go, but I doubt he's a murderer. Oh my god... murder; it's the first time I've said it aloud." I could feel my head spin and I leaned back into the cushions. My eyes closed for a moment and my breathing slowed. The dream began immediately.

Hungry. No... Thirsty. That was the right word. So thirsty and the girl was alone on the roadside, carrying bags of foul smelling food. It was the work of a moment to distract her, to ask her for the time and lead her into the shade. She tried to scream, but it was too late, her life leaving her body in gasps that faded faster than her failing heart. I let the body drop to the dirt, wiping my mouth and feeling the warmth within, sated for now. A shiver of power thrilled me... the girl had known him, the one I wanted, the one that would soon be mine...

I jerked awake again, panicked and hyperventilating, and babbling about what I'd seen. I had been asleep for mere seconds. Carlisle looked concerned.

"Sweetheart, these dreams you're having are just that - dreams. Don't let them frighten you. With everything that's going on, it's no wonder you're all messed up."

"So real though – I saw myself kill a girl and just leave her there..." My hand pressed to my mouth in terror when the memory cleared. "It was Bella! Oh my god, I saw her, Carlisle! She was so frightened... it was so fast and, oh god, I saw her die... I saw Bella die!"

I was shaking, on the verge of convulsions now, and Carlisle brought me another pill and some water, his eyes looking frightened for the first time, frightened for me, I realised. I took it gratefully, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"Sleep now and hopefully there will be no more dreams. I'm going to get you settled and then speak to G." With deft hands he carried me to the sofa, covering me with a blanket before placing a tender kiss to my forehead.

I heard him ask for Dr Gerandy, his voice low. The word that caught my ear was 'delusions' and I wondered if I could lose the one thing left in my life that was good. With that bleak thought, I drifted into sleep.

The dream felt different this time. This was no flashback – this was now.

We're at home. The phone rings and Carlisle answers. In my dream I can hear his voice change, my husband becomes someone else. The woman's voice is pervasive, insinuating itself into his ear, the canker that, when left untreated, poisons its host. Her voice is hypnotic, this cuckoo invading our formerly happy nest. Whatever it is she wants, I will fight to keep from her. He is drawn to her by some power I can't understand; my lovely, loyal husband is unbeknownst to him, being lured away, his will turned against me without him knowing. He is bewitched, bespelled, controlled by one far stronger than he.

She wants him for her own.

This time when I woke I knew the dream to be truth. My darling husband was under attack and only I could stop it. The only problem was that I was in danger of being hospitalised if I kept talking about her and the dreams. I had to hold it together and try to stop whatever this woman was trying to achieve. Until this moment I had never believed in witchcraft, the true dark arts, but now it was the only explanation I could comprehend. Some woman was using unnatural forces to steal away my husband from me, something that would never happen if he weren't being controlled. I knew Carlisle well enough to know he loved me. He told me every day and he showed me in the bedroom.

Until last night, my head reminded me. How was that for you, Esme? Did that feel like love to you?

I shook my head to clear the fog from the medication. Something had happened to him, and I would find a way to bring him back to me, to break this unholy bond that had been forged without permission or willing acceptance.

Who could I turn to for help? Bella was my best friend and she was... I forced myself to say the word 'dead', the word bitter on my tongue, yet undeniable – the hole in my heart jagged and raw. Charlie would be on compassionate leave, his colleagues hunting her killer. I realised that I had no one else close to me to reach out to; I was alone now, and terrified for my own future.

~xXx~

The following day, Dr Gerandy came to see me at Carlisle's behest. He was a gentle, sweet man who talked to me for some time, asking me questions about my dreams and my fears. I tried to answer as factually as dreams could ever allow, and I felt his doubts and worse still, his concern for my sanity. Still I could not make another understand the fears that dwelled within me for I knew better than to mention my main fear – the defection of my husband's love to another creature. In my bones I knew she was not a woman. How could I ever make him see? How could I explain to an outsider that my husband was two different people now: the overzealous lover, euphoric yet oblivious, caring little for my comfort and pleasure, and the darker, more dangerous incarnation, edgy and loud, growing ever more unfeeling and cold toward me. I never knew now who was waiting for me behind those once kind eyes and I feared that I would never again know the love of the man I had married.

The darker side of Carlisle had shown itself again after G left that afternoon. All morning he had been attentive, caring and concerned, but afterward he cooled toward me, not wanting to discuss or allay my fears, wanting instead to be alone for a time. I had relented without comment, hearing him leave and drive away from the house, leaving me alone and fearful. Minutes after his car drew away, the telephone rang, jarring my jangling nerves, demanding I turn my attention to the innocuous handset by the chair. Lifting it to my ear, I had not the time to even speak before I heard laughter that chilled me to the bone followed by the dial tone. I wept then, curling into a foetal position on the couch, wretched sobs ripping from my chest.

It was to be expected that I cried myself to sleep.

And of course, the dreams were waiting.

Carlisle is there, dazed and obedient, his face betraying his adoration of the creature upon which he gazes. He has pleased her and has earned his reward. I want him to refuse her, to wake from his stupor and fight, fight for us, but instead I see him kiss her, feel the lust that storms through her at his touch – a touch I had hoped would always be mine. I feel the triumph in her mind that all the she desires has become hers.

'No!' I scream the word but it is useless, they either cannot hear or choose to ignore my pain.

But worse is to come, for when the kiss breaks I see my darling husband tilt his head and invite the creature to feast on his precious life blood.

In my head I hear again the exultant laughter of victory.

And I feel his blood running down her throat, her mouth smeared with crimson.

I woke, panicked and disoriented, hearing the silence of the empty house all around me. Forcing myself to my feet, I ran upstairs and packed a small bag with overnight essentials, stashing it in my closet. When the time came to run, I would be ready.

He did not return that evening, and a voice in my head told me that he might not return at all. I forced down food that made me choke, spending the rest of my time scouring the internet for any trace of factual information about creatures with mind control. It was the entry about succubi that cemented my deepest fears. The power of control that the she-devil held over her victim was absolute – he was completely in her power and under her control until the time came. The words I read had me wrapping my arms around myself in an effort to hold it all together. The link between them meant that her feelings were his feelings, her moods his moods. His touch was that of a stranger to me now, his lack of consideration toward me meant that he could hurt me and neither know nor care, and he changed from exultant and energetic, to cold, with an easy to rouse temper in the blink of an eye. I sat bolt upright in my chair, stifling a cry of despair and shock; the final act of the succubus was to entice even the most loyal of men into her bed and to take their life once the act of consummation was complete.

For all I knew, Carlisle could already be dead.

A part of me argued that if he were, I would know. Whatever this connection was that we had, I would feel it if she took his life. I clung to that small piece of comfort. I knew now that I had no one who would believe me, my words would have me committed and my husband would then die with no resistance, no fight. Every part of me would want to die with him if I could not save him. He was my world.

When the morning dawned, the sun sickly and hidden by cloud, I looked up from my screen with one thought in mind:

I would fight.

My husband was still missing, albeit unreported. I chewed my nail before finding the strength to ring Charlie to talk about the arrangements. The poor man was in pieces, devastated and spinning. I managed to find out that the funeral was set for two days' time and I promised to come with him and sit up front, for he and Bella had no other family and I was her dearest friend. I cried on the phone with him, the loss feeling deeper still when I felt his untempered agony. What I felt ran tenfold for him.

I spent those next two days in silence, alone. That first night I slept without dreams.

The second night I wasn't so lucky.

She is impatient, filling her hours with expectant plans. He is hers now, no longer mine. She has obliterated me from his life, made me obsolete. I feel the empty space where I once dwelled in his soul. He doesn't feel the loss – he is unaware of what has been ripped away. As the hours pass, however, he does think of me.

The funeral was a blur of white flowers, of painful, forced singing, and the murmured words of the minister. I saw nothing but the casket, Bella's smiling face in the picture atop it, feeling Charlie hold my hand to stop him from drowning.

We buried my best friend beside her mother, the words of wisdom and solace lost to my ears. Her death was needless, and somehow I had the feeling it was to do with me. At the graveside, I thought I saw blonde hair beneath a black veil, eyes burning like fire. On turning, I saw no one that fitted that description.

~xXx~

Charlie asked where Carlisle was, of course, surprised to see me alone and unsupported at such a solemn occasion. I lied to his face, my audacity shocking me to the core, when I told him about the work conference he had to attend, about the lecture he was delivering. I passed on his deepest condolences, both our names on the beautiful flowers that rested atop my friend's casket. The sweet man believed me, and the guilt ate away at my heart like acid. I could not say he was missing, that I feared I had already lost him, because, truth be told, I could not endanger another living soul. Whilst Charlie was oblivious, he was safe from her. At least I prayed it was so.

My research had taught me little, other than to identify the beast in question. She had full power over him now; perhaps she had from that very first cold handshake. The thought made me shiver – I had shaken her hand too. Was that how I could see inside her head? Was I connected too? And if she realised this, how long did I have left before she stopped playing cat and mouse and hunted me down for real?

My only option to save us was to slaughter this devil that was consuming him from within. I had armed myself with a sharp knife, hoping that if I got close enough I could use it. I wasn't stupid – I knew my chances were slim.

On returning home from the funeral, I paused when I saw Carlisle's car in the driveway, the need to run to him still overruling my brain. Throwing open the door, I hastened into the living room and was instead met with the visage of the woman that haunted my dreams, the killer that hid behind a perfect facade of femininity. My breath left my chest in a panicked exhalation, my legs backing away in automatic self defence. My eyes flickered around the room, searching in vain for my husband; his absence crushed my last hope of ever seeing him again, for my life was slipping away, faster and faster with every breath I drew in.

Pointless, useless adrenalin made me bold in those final minutes.

"Is he here? Has he come back one last time to tell me it's over?"

Her perfect smile was unchanging, her satisfied expression telling more than her words ever could.

"I know what you are." My mouth was dry. "I know what you do. Mortal men – you take them and make them want you. Then you-you... you kill them." I swallowed, the action painful. "I just want you know that I love him – and I will always love him. He will never be completely yours while I still hold him in my heart."

My words sounded so brave and defiant to my ears. She never moved. For the first time, I noticed her eyes in the light and stepped backward again in a reflex action.

Blood red; she had red eyes. Had they been red before? No – they were a dark blue before, I could have sworn. My mind was skittering now, running scared without answers. The red eyes at the cemetery... oh my god.

"Your husband is fine – I simply came to tell you that."

He voice, so soft and musical, spoke the words as if offering the most banal of information. But it was her smile then; the display of perfect yet lethal white teeth that I had felt tear into Carlisle's neck, which tipped the scale from fear to anger.

"You hell-bitch! He'll never be yours! I'll fight for him until my last breath!"

"I'm sure you will. In fact, I'm counting on it."

I heard my husband approach, the man I loved with all my heart was finally home. In the dimming light, a cold hand covered mine; dark, soulless eyes pinning me down. My heart hammered, fighting for its very life.

"Carlisle?" His name, always so sweet on my lips, was now a bitter pill of loss, yet his smile still warmed my heart.

"Esme - I'm thirsty, Sweetheart. I'm so glad you came home."

My horror blossomed anew, taking in his almost black eyes, the irises a thin red band around the pupil. He still desired me, but this time I would never wake again. Rosalie was triumphant.

"Tell me, Esme, how could I take his life and not offer him another? My desire for him runs too deep for me to just kill him now. He might have been yours as a human, but I made him immortal, gave him everlasting life and now he will love only me. I have the power to bend him to my will, to keep him by my side for eternity. It made sense to make him wait for his first drink – who else could it have been?"

While she spoke, my body was pinned beneath that of my darling, his cold hands holding my head in order to find my throat. His teeth tearing into my neck was my death knell.

I felt my life draining away, my screams matched only by the laughter of the vampire succubus behind him, her mate claimed, the battle won. My thumbnail scraped once, the hidden match in my hand flaring, adrenalin forcing my weakened arm upward. My hand found the softness of my love's hair, fingers taking one last caress before I touched the flame to it.

In a drawn-out beat from my stuttering, faltering heart, I saw him burn, flailing backward into Rosalie. Sliding to the carpet, I let the match fall from my fingers, the flame catching the hem of the drapes and blazing up in a whoomph of heat before collapsing to the carpet onto a panicked Rosalie, embracing her in its hungry grasp.

The last things my dying eyes would ever see whilst my failing heart beat its last were the two devils engulfed in fire, their unearthly, tortured screams ringing through the smoke until all was silence.

~xXx~

By the time the cleansing fire roared through the rest of the house, Esme's stare was forever fixed, the barest hint of a smile touching her lips before that too was erased from existence.

The End