A/N: So, the idea for this fic came upon me after hearing a certain Cardigans cover. If someone can legally murder such a good song, then I feel it's only fair that Edward indulge in a little murder, too. =) This is from Edward's POV.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. Any similarity to real people is purely coincidental.
"We should listen to something new," declared Bella. I sighed and smiled at my wife, "Like what, dear?" "Hmm..." she contemplated for a moment, "How about Justin Beaver?"
I groaned, "Love, he's so...can't we try out something new? I know you're fond of that Lil Jon fellow. Let's listen to something new of his." "But he hasn't put out anything new. Come on, I really want to listen to Beaver! Jessica says he's really great!" Bella whined.
Yes, I thought. Because Jessica is a trustworthy source of musical tastes. But I relented, "Okay, dear, we will listen to Beaver. Let me go update my iPod." I gave my wife a peck on the cheek and dashed off to find some music by Justin Beaver. God, the things I do for love.
The first song I found was a cover of "Love Me" by The Cardigans. I sighed with relief. Maybe this won't be so bad after all...
I was right; it was not so bad—it was terrible. It was all electronic and the boy couldn't sing to save his life. He completely massacred a song by The Cardigans! I knew exactly what I had to do for the sake of truly talented musicians everywhere. It would have to wait though—right now I would have to find a different Beaver song and pretend it was bearable. After I found a couple of songs, downloaded them to iTunes and updated my iPod, I ran back to Bella's and my bedroom to get the torture over with.
After we listened to "Never Let You Go" and "Common Denominator", Bella looked over and smiled at me. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
I smiled at my beautiful bondmate and lied through my teeth, "No, sweetheart, it wasn't so bad." Bella grinned and kissed me deeply and passionately. I returned it with just as much passion—yes, my task would have to wait awhile...
Making love with Bella was like nothing I ever felt before. We've been married for a year-and-a-half, so we're technically newlyweds, but it just amazes me how it feels like the first time every time. As we touched and kissed and explored each other once again, I briefly considered telling her what I was going to do...but no. I couldn't disappoint her like that.
When we were both sated, we cuddled. I buried my nose in her hair, "God, I love you." She smiled and hugged me closer, "I love you, too." I sat up halfway and kissed her on the cheek, "I have to go. I need to talk to Carlisle." She frowned, "What's wrong?" I smiled reassuringly, "Nothing, love. I just need to talk to him about something." She continued to frown, "We're married—you're supposed to talk to me." I grinned teasingly at her, "Do you want to talk about the brain-hormone circuit and antibiotic-resistant biofilms?" She yielded, "Okay, go to talk to Carlisle. Just hurry back." We kissed good-bye and I headed toward the main house. Then went right past it. I just couldn't tell any of them—I knew none of them would understand or approve. Well, maybe Esme would understand, but I couldn't bear to subject her to Beaver's terrible music so that she would. It would too much for her sweet ears.
I saw Jasper outside and headed toward him. "Jasper, can I borrow your motorcycle? I need to go out of town." Jasper quirked an eyebrow, "Not that I mind, but what about using one of your cars down at your cottage?" I sighed and paused, wondering how I much I should tell him. "I can't start a car down there. Bella thinks I'm talking to Carlisle and it wouldn't make sense for me to drive up here."
"And Bella can't know what you're doing because...?" he asked. I replied, "Because she wouldn't understand. None of them will. But it's important that I do this. I can't explain why, but it is important." Jasper respired, "Okay. I won't ask questions,—God knows I'm the last person to judge anyone—but just be careful." I nodded and he handed me the keys.
While I was on the road, I started thinking about how I would execute my plan—how would I do what had to be done without violating the treaty? How would I hide it from my family or keep from becoming the monster I had fought against reverting to for so long? I decided then, no matter how satisfying it would be to taste human blood again, that I could not kill him in the "traditional vampire" way—I would have to go about as Rosalie went about killing the men who violated her, minus the torture. A quick, bloodless death.
I went to the library in Port Angeles to use their computer—turns out that Justin Beaver was going to be the musical guest on Saturday Night Live the next night. Such a shame—I thought the executives over SNL had more sense than that. I drove to Port Angeles's airport and bought a ticket on the next flight to New York City. While I was waiting I bought a book by P.C. Cast called Divine by Mistake to occupy my time. Such a charming woman—very talented and called Bella to let her know I would be going on a hunt with Jasper and Emmett—some male bonding time, you know—then called Emmett to ask him to back up my story if it came up. He said he would, no questions asked.
During the flight I read and pretended to sleep. It might be difficult to find where my target would be staying. Or maybe not—according to the Internet, he has quite a following of young girls and I can probably find where he is staying by searching for the throng of screaming young women that will surely have congregated outside his hotel. I sighed; today's youth—do they not see how terrible he is? What attracts them to his horrid music? I decided that I might never fully understand the modern world.
As I landed in New York City, I began to doubt my decision. If I had to keep a decision from my family and make all manner of inane decisions to distract Alice, should I really be doing it? I decided that I would talk to the boy before I killed him—maybe he would see reason and stop making music. Of course, what he has already made would still be on the market, but that would be true if I killed him. There's nothing anyone can do about the damage he has already done, but maybe I could talk him out of doing any more. Yes, I would talk sense into the child and he would see that, no matter how popular his music was, it's terrible and is an insult to other musicians. Maybe he would even apologize concerning his massacre of The Cardigans song. One can only hope.
I wandered aimlessly until I heard the mental chatter of many teenage girls talking about the Beaver boy. I headed in their direction and made my way through the crowd. I walked into the hotel and picked up the room number I needed from the desk clerk's mind. I made my way to the 18th floor and went to room 1808. There were no security guards at the door, which I thought unwise, but maybe the card lock assured him that no one could come in uninvited.
I knocked on the door and a boy no more than fifteen opened it. "Can I help with you something?" I cleared my throat, "I am here to speak with you about something very important." His face lit with understanding, "Oh, you must be from the record company. They usually let me know before they come by, but whatever," and he opened the door wider for me to enter.
"So, what's up?" he asked me. He offered me some potato chips, which I politely declined. I sucked in an unneeded breath and exhaled, "I'm not from the record company." For his part, Beaver looked slightly alarmed, "Then why are you here?" "Because I need to talk to you about your music," I answered him. He relaxed minutely, "What about it?" I replied bluntly, "It's terrible. You completely destroyed a wonderful song by The Cardigans and really everything you put out is just as bad. You need to stop putting out music right now." The boy looked like I just killed his favorite pet. I hadn't meant to be so harsh, but he needed to hear the truth. He tried to argue, "But my fans, I need to continue for my fans..." I softened my tone, "No, they are precisely why you should stop. I can tell you know as well as I do that you're music is far from great and maybe your fans will move on to better artists if you leave." His lip puckered like he was about to cry, so I put a hand on his shoulder, "Hey, take some voice lessons, listen to some of the greats from the past, then maybe in a few years you'll be ready. But right now, there's just a lot left to be desired. Okay?" He looked up at me, his jaw set, and his face hardened. I could hear it in his thoughts—he wasn't quitting. "No. My fans love my music and I don't care what you say—I'm gonna keep singing."
I ran my fingers through my hair. "You need to listen to me. Stop singing. Bad things might happen if you continue." Although I could see the fear in the boy's eyes and hear it in his thoughts, I also saw and heard clear determination, "Go to hell. I don't need your approval." As he walked away from me, I shot in front of him and glared, "Actually, you do." I couldn't stop a growl that erupted from my throat. The child's eyes widened and he tried to make a run for the door, but I'm blocked him. "Say you'll stop singing those horrendous songs." I demanded. "N-n-no, I won't!" he cried, obviously arguing because he felt that fighting was the only way out at this point.
"I won't have to hurt you if you just stop singing," I explained to him in the most level voice I could muster. "I-I-I d-d-d-don't believe you," he stammered, barely controlling the terrified tremors running through his body. I let out a breath, "It's the truth. Look, I'm sorry I scared you, but please believe me. I'm just looking out for your best interests. Please, stop singing. Do you really want to be loved for such terrible music? Wouldn't you rather wait a few years to make something truly worthwhile?"
He stopped shaking and considered what I said for a moment, then shook his head, "Even if I said I would stop, you would still do whatever your planning. Besides, my mom and my fans love what I do and that's all I care about."
Damn it. This boy would not see reason. "Then I have to do what is best for everyone. I have to stop you the only way I can." Justin Beaver closed his eyes, as if he knew that running or fighting would just cause him more pain at this point. I closed in on him and broke his neck. He was dead before he hit the floor.
I didn't want to incriminate myself by being seen walking out of the building right after the boy's murder, so I looked out his window. Hm. For such a nice hotel, it seemed to have a rather terrible view of an alley. While this would upset me if I were a customer, as someone trying to make an unseen exit, I was pleased and jumped out the window after cleaning my prints from all surfaces of the room.
I bought a ticket from JFK airport to the airport in Port Angeles. I picked up the second book in Cast's Partholon series, Divine by Choice. It was harder to enjoy the book with Justin Beaver's death weighing on my mind, but I refused to dwell on it. It had to be done—he would not see reason and I could not allow him to continue making music after hearing the atrocity he committed against "Love Me". Besides, what's done is done—I could not bring him back to life even if his death had not been for the greater good of music.
When the plane landed in Port Angeles, I retrieved Jasper's motorcycle and began the drive back to Forks. I returned Jasper's back to the garage, noting that I would thank him later. I caught an elk in the forest to keep up the cover story that I went hunting and headed toward the little place that Bella and I called home.
She met me at the door, smiling. I smiled back at her and walked into her open arms. I breathed her in, savoring the moment and vowed once again that she and the rest of my family would never learn of what I did.
When we released each other from our embrace, Bella beamed at me, "I know you just got back, but why don't we say hello to everyone down at the main house. It's been awhile since I was there and I miss Alice." I smiled back at her, "Okay, love. Let's go." We collected Renesmee and headed toward the house. When we arrived, everyone was huddled around the television, watching the news. Emmett was the first to address what us, "Hey, did you guys see this? That Beaver kid got whacked." Bella gasped, too taken back to see the looks that Jasper and Alice had given me; I suppose I hadn't hid my actions from Alice after all and Jasper had obviously surmised what I had done given the time frame in which I had told him about my unidentified "errand" and the youngster's death.
"That's terrible," Bella cried and I nodded, "Yes, tragic." Bella turned into me and I held her as she sobbed. "Who would do such a thing?" she lamented. "I don't know, love, I don't know..." I looked over her shoulder at Alice and Jasper. Jasper nodded, knowing I needed confirmation of his secrecy. Alice narrowed her eyes at me and begged her with mine until she nodded in concession as well. No one else noticed this, either too intent on the news program or in their conversations, theorizing who committed the murder and why. No one piped up with, "Edward, because he was offended by the kid's lack of talent," and I felt safe that they never would. My family put a lot of faith in my ability to restrain myself from doing violence against others.
Bella and I went upstairs to our old bedroom and I comforted her. Though she did not know Justin Beaver personally, she took his death hard, perhaps because she felt he was just starting out or maybe simply because a human being was killed, in her mind for no reason. I knew without having to hear her thoughts that she would not want to stay to visit after this. When she finally calmed down, she, Renesmee, and I went to our home and we put Renesmee down to sleep for the night. We listened to Beaver's terrible music for the rest of the night. I did not complain even though hearing his music was exactly why I had to do what I had done. I did not begrudge Bella her coping mechanism. If this was her way of dealing with the juvenile's death, then so be it. As long as she never realized who was responsible, all would be as it should be.
Alice, Jasper, and I never spoke of what I did and Jasper never treated me different. Alice tried not to, but it was more difficult for her. It took her awhile to forgive me, not for the killing itself, but for keeping it from Bella and for making her do the same. The police never came to my door and Bella never questioned further into my "hunting trip." Part of me hated myself for doing something that I could not share with her, but I knew in my heart that it was for the best. I could not have lived with a clear conscience knowing that I was allowing music to be murdered.
A/N: So, what did you think? Were you offended by a murderous Edward? How do you feel about him keeping his actions secret from Bella? And, yes, the books Edward buys at the airport are real books—a third I did not mention is Divine by Blood. They are fabulous books & I suggest anyone old enough to read this fic should read those books also. :)
Oh, and definitely read anju34's Dusk and Her Embrace. It's his first fanfic and it's quite good. Very dark vamp AU.