1. A visitor of sorts.
Edward
Renesmee's hands were growing quickly. They were graceful, with long, nimble fingers and perfect little nails. She'd cut them only yesterday upon my request. I knew that it probably didn't matter and it was silly to pertain to the human rules of this art, but it seemed almost ritual. She was happy to consent and now, as she sat on my lap, the pads of her fingers moved without noise, ghosting over the ivory-white keys.
"Try a C-major," I encouraged, interrupting her mute explorations of the piano, and listened as she picked out the correct notes without hesitation. She twitched only slightly and I knew she wanted to talk to me again but also didn't want to stop the simple sounds of the chord.
"Too easy?" I guessed by the tenor of her thoughts, and she smiled silently. "Then how about an E minor?"
Still no hesitation. She stretched her pinky this time, choosing to keep all of the notes in the air instead of hitting them one by one.
"Do you remember what I showed you yesterday?"
She paused a bit, then glanced at me and pressed her warm palm into the curve of my cheek. Music filtered through my head, along with the correct placements. Moonlight Sonata.
"I'll play the left hand," I told her, moving it to hover over the lower gamut. "Don't forget the sharps."
It wasn't a difficult piece because of the tempo, for it was slow and leisurely. The difficulty lay in remembering all of the half-tone step-ups while attempting to make it look effortless. I had no trouble with my lonely four-beat stretches of simplistic chords and Renesmee seemed to be happy to be playing the main melody. She appeared to have no problems with the correct tunes either. I relaxed slightly; enjoying the sounds, letting them filter through us both, hold us afloat between time and space.
Her little warm body, before pressed up against my own, was now moving in rhythm with the melancholy emotions that the piece always summoned. I watched her eyes close as she played by memory, forgetting everything else, and was reminded of myself. My favorite escape – the forte-piano. I hoped with a sudden feverishness that it would also be one of her own. I longed very much to share as much of the world as I could with her and it appeared that I had succeeded.
We began to drift into the second movement, dancing through the dark harmony of Beethoven together. Her fingers moved along like tides, coming and going, ad lib-ing the fortes and pianos as she saw fit, managing to make it her own as well. I followed her dutifully, letting her have her own character within the piece, not even noticing the presence behind us. As we drifted up the scales, she increased the volume, turning up the dial of emotion. I held my breath without realizing I was doing it, listening in wonder to her travels on the stretch of the black-and-white sea of keys. And then, finally, as the two last chords chimed in a dual bass, like the gongs of an old clock, I finally let out my sigh. My lips had been stretched into a smile without noticing it, and I had to nearly chuckle at myself. Nessie's weight on my lap shifted and she threw her arms around my neck, bleeding her heat into my stone-like temperature. I hugged her back.
"You played beautifully," I assured her.
"Let's play again," she begged me, seeming eager to drown us both in the harmonies of classics again. I laughed quietly but warmly and pulled her away to study her pretty face. Her lips transformed into a pout.
"If I kidnap you for any longer, your mother might just get jealous," I teased, tearing my eyes away from her face and focusing it on my other favorite. Bella gave me a look of amused accusation from her place on the steps of the curved stairs.
"I wouldn't be jealous," she said defensively, gliding toward us and picking Renesmee up out of habit. The girl settled in the familiar shape of her arms easily and curled up like a kitten. She'd grown now to the side of a six-year-old but she still managed to fit comfortably.
Renesmee's hands flew up, asking eagerly if Bella had heard.
"Every note," Bella hugged her closer, obviously proud. "You've inherited your father's talent."
"Most of it is her own," I argued, but no one developed on the debate. Instead, she set our daughter down and patted her curls softly.
"Renesmee, go see Auntie Rose. She wanted me to come get you; she has something interesting to show you."
I looked up at my mate's perfect face with concealed surprise but Nessie didn't seem to notice the unusual bidding. She simply danced away up the stairs with a grace that was probably learned from Alice, like a restless gazelle. We watched her disappear onto the second floor, and then looked at each other as if on cue. Bella's face tensed suddenly, as if she'd been hiding something. I remembered her signature blush and found myself missing it. If she had any blood left, she'd be beet red by now. Instead, she was just pale, beautiful, and undoubtedly troubled. I reached out for her hands immediately and took them in my own, peeking into her amber eyes.
"What is it?" I murmured.
"You didn't notice?" she asked, then shook her head. "Oh, sorry, I knew you were busy with Nessie but perhaps I'd thought…"
Immediately, I unfurled my mind's senses like wings, searching for any hint of trouble. I'd been so involved with the music that the hour slipped by without me even bothering to read anyone's thoughts except for Renesmee's. I was startled at myself, and twice the more worried because of it. I found no one in any immediate danger except for the fragmented tone of worry outside of the house, by the river. My eyebrows drew together in concentration as I listened to Alice's splintered theories but could catch neither head nor tail of it. That is, until a word ran through her mind and into mine like a freight-train, freezing everything.
Invaders.
I tensed, my grip on Bella's hands tightening instinctively. My consciousness divided as I focused half on her again to try to get all of he information.
"She saw something?" I asked, still following Alice's attempts to organize her vision.
"She's not sure what it is." Bella bit her lip. Her eyes were wide but resolved. I knew that she must have been mentally preparing herself for another stand-off with a deadly enemy. To my own relief, I found this possibility unlikely.
"Not the Volturi," I told her quickly, then flew back to Alice's memories. She seemed to be becoming aware of the fact that I might have been listening and began to shift through the dim pictures again. They appeared to be sharp and out of order, moving with quick, jerking motions. I pondered at this anomaly while trying to distinguish the shapes moving through the silhouettes of the forest. They were only two, and oddly misshapen. Despite their odd forms, they moved with a speed and agility of an animal. Their movements, like the vision, were sudden and wild. Uncontrolled.
I shook my head and snapped myself back to place, pulling out of the chaotic sight. I had a few possible theories, and none of them were particularly inviting.
"Not the Volturi," I repeated, although there was still a possibility that they had gained a new member who could distort Alice's power. I didn't like this and moved on to my next guesses.
"Maybe some newborns."
Bella glanced toward the window, alert. "How far?"
I concentrated on the tenor of the vision, trying to match it to any thoughts in the surrounding area, and found the search unfruitful. Still, from the little I could catch through the vision, I assumed they were near Forks but farther up north, in the thicker, wilder woods.
"Not far enough," I growled. I was more annoyed that upset. I wondered what Carlisle would do to drive them away. If they were, indeed, newborns, then it'd be a risk to try to talk sense into them.
"Edward."
I turned and watched Alice flash to us, dropping into a stand-still at the steps. Her tiny hands were clenched into fists. "I don't think they're newborns," she said.
I could see by the dazed stare of her eyes that she was still trying to see. Bella and I waited patiently, driving away any sort of panic with the reassurance that we'd always be there for each other.
Not newborns? I asked myself. Who, Alice?
She grit her teeth and let her head fall forward, chin resting on her collarbone. Her eyes fluttered closed. I followed her into her mind dutifully, swimming through the mess. It was like trying to read words that moved too quickly and jumped out of your way. Dyslexia.
She was trying to focus on something, trying to figure something out. Her mental focus was not on the way they moved or on their location. She was trying very hard to capture some inane detail, trying to find an answer to an unvoiced question. I stumbled along with her, bumping unevenly through the forest as it shook, hurling me through the vision. I felt nearly sick and incredibly frustrated.
What do you need, Alice?! I demanded, wishing she could hear me. She continued her reach. We pulled closer, gaining more perspective on the mutated forms. Their dark shapes melted before my eyes and trembled in my line of sight, refusing to stay still. I began to pull out, feeling an unfamiliar throbbing in my head from this stupidity, but then suddenly she succeeded.
I caught only a millisecond of the truth before we both fell back, but it was enough.
"Edward?" It was Bella this time. She had her hands on my face and her eyes were even more worried than before. "Edward?"
"Not newborns." I said, rubbing my forehead. It was incredibly helpful to finally feel the earth beneath my feet. The stability was nearly alien after the crazy ride through the sight. "Their eyes…"
Their eyes weren't red. And not at all like a vampire's. Animal eyes, gold, shining retinas, reflecting the moonlight. Wild, uncontrolled.
Uncontrolled.
I understood faster than Alice. I knew it because I'd remembered seeing these kinds of eyes in another's mind. Inhuman, but not vampire. I shook my head in disbelief. What were these two thinking?
"Not newborns… They're coming to hide. They're looking for us."
"Who?" Bella demanded. Alice was also watching me intently, confused. "Who's coming? Nomads?"
"No… A pack…" I groaned, threading my fingers into my hair in frustration. This wasn't as bad as I expected, but still worse. Was that possible?
"A pack?" Bella shook her head, "Jacob's? Sam's?"
"No. Not shape-shifters." I felt anger flooding into me. I would not allow for this! "No. They're coming to hide with us. They must think… they're heard about our victory over the Volturi and they must think… we can protect them." I swore under my breath. Bella was even more concerned. Alice was silent. She was picking her way to the truth. She was getting there.
They were coming to hide with us from Caius. They'd heard of us and now they'd escaped to their only chance left.
A pack. Not vampire, not wolf.
Perhaps the last remaining pack of the Children of the Moon.
The true werewolves.