Disclaimer: Twilight's not mine. Apparently there's more to it than wishful thinking. Stupid rules ...they wouldn't even let me have Phil.

Summary: It's 1888 and Londons' most famous killer is on the loose. His next victim? Well, it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that that would be none other than Isabella, the daughter of Detective Charles Swan. Meanwhile, in light of the recent murders, Carlisle Cullen is sent to London by the Volturi to set matters straight. Fate crosses their paths just in time for Carlisle to save Isabella from certain death, the only way he knows how. He takes her under his wing and the two seem to get along quite well. Quite well indeed... So what will happen thirty years later in Chicago, when these two lovebirds meet the green-eyed Edward Masen? - A tale of murder, misguided love, and misplaced puns.

My wonderful Beta random-lemon made this story the best it can be. She's my personal (brand of) heroin and without her I'd be lost.

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Should you ever find yourself alone in the study of dr. Carlisle Cullen someday, make sure to read one of his journals. You'll find them lined up neatly and in perfect order behind his desk, one for each year he's been -for lack of a better word- around. But should you look closely, you'll find that there is one year missing;

1888.

Now, I suggest you look for that inside the ancient, leather bound, medical reference book, titled 'A Physicall Directory'. He keeps this on display in his ebony showcase against the wall opposing the window. Open it somewhere in the middle and you'll see that he's made a secret compartment by cutting out a square in just enough pages to fit the missing journal, perfectly. As with the other journals, on its spine you'll find the date; 1888. Smudges of blood adorn the frayed cover and through them, written with a quill in the most elegant longhand you'll ever see, you should be able to make out the word:

'Undoing'

...Curious? Then look below for an excerpt from that very journal.

-:-

...

The smell hit me like a ton of bricks.

Blood.

Human blood, and with an appeal that was hard to resist even for me. It seemed like too much for anyone to lose, without losing their life as well.

And for the first time in many, many years, I felt the urge to taste it.

Closing my eyes I could almost taste it, almost feel that warm liquid quench the thirst that had lit up the back of my throat like a bonfire. Before I could act on the impulse, the unmistakable smell of another vampire snapped me out of my daze and alerted my senses. Hints of leather, oak, and a touch of cologne told me that he was the one I was looking for.

I had to hurry. I had lost his trail a week before, and it had forced me to prolong my stay in this dreaded place. I would never be able to forgive myself for the innocent life that was lost here tonight, because I had failed to stop this maniac seven days ago.

I started running, not bothering to hold back speed since, there seemed to be no one out on these streets but him, me, and of course the human he had killed. I made my way to the corner of a nearby back street and as I got closer, both scents got stronger and more distinct, indicating he was still with his victim.

I was taken aback by my reaction to the blood; my throat had started burning and venom was seeping into my mouth. So much, that I had to swallow it back. I paused a moment to collect myself. After decades of being in perfect control of my bloodlust, this was new to me. However I refused to let it get the better of me.

I took deep, short breaths, trying to familiarize myself with the smell that for some reason provoked my instincts like none other ever had. When all that did was make things worse, I decided to go with holding my breath altogether. It took a while longer than I had hoped, but after a few breathless minutes the thirst had receded. Once again confident in my control, as well as my game plan, I turned into the alley.

I found him there, cowering over a lifeless body. He had been too entranced by his victim to notice my approach up until now, but as soon as I had turned the corner, he knew. Naively, I had expected him to defend his 'meal' from me, which would have made him an easy target due to the predictability of rash, instinctual behavior. The Volturi had taught me a lot, and years and years of practice had made me a skilled fighter to say the least. The brutality of the five murders he had committed prior to this one, had led me to believe he was a sadistic, but above all an impulsive killer.

Therefore he surprised me when, without hissing, growling or fighting, he simply stood up and ran. He never even turned to look at me, as if he already knew who I was. I started to chase after him, but almost immediately I was stopped dead in my tracks.

It couldn't be...

Barely audible, even to my ears, was the faintest sound of a beating heart.

Still holding my breath, I turned to look at the human that I had considered to be dead just moments ago.

It was on its back, with the head tilted to one side. A girl. Long, dark, wavy hair draped delicate, porcelain shoulders and covered part of her face. The back of her hair was matted by the girls' own blood, and it stuck to the pavement like wet autumn leaves. Her frail limbs lay lifeless across her broken body, her right arm in angle that left no question that it was dislocated and broken in more than one place. The hand was battered, the fingernails bloody. I let my gaze wander. To my surpise I didn't find a single bite mark, but on every single place I let my eyes rest I could see damage, done by my sick, twisted congener. Apart from her face, he had made sure to leave no part of her unscathed.

Kneeling down beside her, an inexplicable sense of loss washed over me. I carefully turned her head in my direction, and wiped away a few strands of hair that hid her heart-shaped face from me. The peaceful expression I was met wit was such a paradox. Her lips showed no signs of fear, or hurt. Her eyes were closed, and the long, dark eyelashes adorning them were in a shrill contrast to her skin, which was pale and flawless, almost like my own. She was beautiful, a vision, and I felt strangely drawn to her. Somehow, she seemed special.

It caught me off guard when I felt my eyes sting with useless, overdue tears for this innocent human girl, I wished I had known sooner.

Her small, strong heart was still desperately pumping blood, determined to keep her alive. Though I could hear that despite of its resolve, it was getting weaker by the minute. Soon, she would be dead and there was nothing I could do. Reminding myself to be rational about this, I rearranged her torn clothes so she was at least decent and then turned to walk away, to let her die in peace. I would resume my pursuit of her attacker, I would find him, and -for her- I would kill him.

But something wouldn't let me.

Carlisle...

That voice... It sent a shiver down my spine. I should not even have recognized it, after all it hadn't spoken to me in over two hundred years.

But it spoke now, and I recognized it all too well. It was a voice that only cared for itself. One that took, without giving. A voice I thought I had overcome centuries ago, yet here it was, taunting me from the deepest, darkest depths of my being.

The voice of the monster.

He didn't tell me to kill, like he used to do when I was still a newborn. Nor did he order me to fight. Not this time. After having patiently waited in silence for centuries, he wanted something else entirely. The monster didn't care for her blood, even though it was obvious that it called to him. But he wouldn't touch it, because to my disgust there was one thing he wanted, even more.

Change her.

He wanted her soul. Never before had I even considered condemning anyone else to this cursed existence I had for a life. It would be the worst thing I could do.

Would it?

Behind all my objections to turning this girl into a demon like myself, I felt a foreign warmth spread through my body at the mere thought of having her in my 'life' and involuntarily, a genuine smile formed on my face and I hated myself for it.

I'm sure she will bring you the peace you seek, Carlisle. The human girl is what brought you here. You wouldn't be doing anything wrong. I know you feel the pull towards her.

Before I knew it, I was back on the ground, cradling her. It was like a part of me that had been dormant up until now had taken over, rendering the rational part of me powerless. With one hand I supported the back of her head, and I could only look as my other hand left the small of her back to pull back her hair, exposing the soft flesh of her neck to me.

Admit it! She calls to you. There's no point in fighting destiny.

I buried my face in the crook of her bruised, but nevertheless perfect neck, and against my better judgement, I inhaled deeply. She smelled heavenly, of lavender and freesia. The venom forming in my mouth warned me to be very careful, by showing me how little was left of the self control I had always taken for granted. Although, I don't think the monster would have allowed me to accidently kill her.

You need her. You deserve her.

Still battling against my inner demon, still not sure of what I was going to do, I foolishly took a breath. It was my last, and obviously counterproductive attempt to think straight. Or maybe I just wanted to let that divine aroma torture me some more. I felt myself slipping, and getting lost in her. Her scent, her beauty, and her warmth. I craved it all, so much it caused me to shake all over.

She's yours.

The monster was winning, and I cared less with every second that passed. My face moved over her skin, of its own accord it seemed, revelling the feel of her warmth and the throbbing of her artory against my marble skin, until my teeth were at the base of her throat.

Save her.

...

-:-

Unfortunatley, this is where the page shows signs of ...mischief. From the right corner up, blackisch, burn-like marks grace the age-old parchment, leaving the rest of the words mainly irrecoverable. If you didn't know any better, you'd say it's almost as if someone has tried to hide or maybe even forget what had ensued.

So what did happen next?

Twice, the good-natured doctor was asked to tell that story himself. On both occasisons he looked away to stare at nothing in particular, while his eyes glazed over and seemed to turn an uncharacteristic, deep black. Judging by each of his features seperately one would have concluded that apart from his eyes, his face appeared unchanged by the memory. But somehow, if you took in his entire bearing, from it you could read a strange mixture of pain, disgust and desire.

He always claimed not to remember and perhaps that's true. However those few who, like Carlisle, have experienced the bliss of tasting the blood of their singer argue that he'll never be able to forget the sound of her whimpering, the feel of her flesh tearing and the most heavenly taste ever to have touched his tongue, that followed.

-:-

Uh oh, dr. Cullen seems to be quite smitten there, I mean that display was qui- "Yeah sure, sure secret admirer, but where were all the misplaced puns you promised?"
Oh, for the love of all things soulless... Someone sort of died and you're worried about the pun? Please understand, this was Carlisle at his lowest. Vampires don't do pun at their lowest. But don't worry, there will be more chapters. And there will be pun. And it will be misplaced.

In the meantime, may I recommend a short visit to my profile? It's the place to find links to pictures concerning this story, in case you're curious about what that locket looks like exactly, or Bella's dress, or a general impression of each chapter, etc etc. But before you go, I hope you'll review.