Summery: Edward had never tried to keep one paticular human alive in the past; but that didn't mean he hadn't made sure one hadn't died. Normal pairings (Who would change them?) Just a side story I came up with :D

Chapter Song: Asassin - Muse

Disclaimer: I always forget these things; but here goes: None of the charecters are 'mine' Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer (Genious? I THINK SO!), and I have taken 'Lottie Collin's daughter' (who is made up - and not her real daughter) and put her into the story because I know Lottie Collins died in 1910; which is where the story is based...other references are made to other famous people and bla di bla...nothing is mine; I'm just playing with it for a while.

I would also like to make clear that the name Gordon Jacob is absolutly no reference to Jacob from the Twilight Series; I merely picked on him to be in the story because he was a composer who lived through the late 18, and early 1900s.

Chapter 1: Shadows bite

London, 1910

The girl had no idea how close she had come to death in the last 24 hours. Carlisle's philosophies on not drinking human blood were justified, but it was times like this that Edward glorified in his abilities. Well, not so much glorified in them, not so much as thanked God, or whomever had created vampires, that he had the ability to save the innocent.

This girl had long, curly, brown hair. She was slender, but she was quite short. He wasn't sure from such distances as he had seen her from, but having seen her in the mind's of other humans, he knew she had green eyes. Green eyes that always darted around her surroundings; she looked as though she was trying to end conversations quickly. Many people felt that this was rude; he'd seen it in their minds. He'd seen in hers, however, that she couldn't help it. She was very nervous by nature; a shy girl, she liked to keep herself to herself.

She also had quite a nice sent. If Edward was any normal vampire; he probably would have taken her by now, however, he could not bring himself to harm someone so innocent. The men who had tried to hurt her last night; they were a different story.

He'd been hunting on that night; and he'd seen her face in his head; or so he had thought, he had almost failed in saving her. The man had been out to kill her because of her mother, and it had been the girl's mother that Edward had seen in the man's head. Because of this, he had been looking out for an older woman than this. The girl could only be about eighteen. Her hair was a lot shorter than her mother's, her clothes far more conservative, her eyes a different shade, and the way she held herself was far, far less rightous. All he could see in her killer's head, though, was the arrogant woman, whom he wanted his revenge on.

The man, he heard in his thoughts, had already killed the girl's mother, not that anyone else had known; after he had killed the girl, he would disapear. No one would ever know what had happened.

No one, thought Edward, exept me.

At the last minute, he had realised which girl was going to be killed by this man, and thankfully he was apt enough in his abilities to take the man out before he got the chance to rip the girl to threads. He hadn't even seen her. It was close; but he had succeeded.

He was watching her now, she was wondering through the snow covered streets early in the morning. He knew from her mind that she was headed to the town hall; she was involved in a presentation today; she would be playing a number of piano peices thoughout the day, as her tutor had arranged for her. She was a little scared about the whole ordeal; being so shy. Sometimes she wished she were her mother.

Her mother, Edward had discovered in the mind of her killer the night before, was a woman called Lottie Collins; a famous dancer and musician; someone who was deffinatly not shy in the slightest. It seemed that her daughter did not take after her in this way.

Soon as she had turned the next corner, and there was no one on the street; Edward jumped down from the roof, landing on his feet on the snow covered ground. It was still early yet, and the sun had not appeared on the horison. Not that it would today; there were rain clouds coming in at a great speed. It was going to pour down in about an hour.

He took the same root as the girl had, and turned the corner at the end of the street; watching as she entered the town hall. The sign at the door said that the presentation would start in just a couple of hours, at ten. Now she was in the hall, he had no reason to watch her. He now had nothing to do again.

He decided that he would go and see if he could listen to her practice for the presentation; surely she would be practicing in a room with a window. A window was not as dense as a wall; if she was playing near one, he would surely be able to hear her. His ear was, after all, better than any human's; not just in a musical sense.

A bit of searching rewarded him with the ability to listen to the girl practice; he sat just beneath the window; which was open, even in the cold chill of morning.

He was almost bored as he heard her warm up, going through scales and arpeggios. They had to be the most tiring thing about music; the repetativeness of them always got to him. He prefered music that moved on, developed, and changed. Twists and turns in a peice gave him something to listen for.

She was very thorough in her warm ups; going on for almost half an hour. But when she was finished she paused for a little while; during which he could hear the ruffle of papers; and he assumed she was going through her music.

He was unsurprised when she started playing Debussy; since his Suite Bergamasque had been launched in 1890, he had been a particularly popular composer; especially with the women. His music was sweet, but full. It was beautiful; Debussy was a favorite of Edward's.

He was a little more surprised when she started playing Chopin's peices. It wasn't that he wasn't a good composer; Edward thought he was brilliant; it was just that he was so, well, unknown here. France had glorified in the man's music, he knew so from Carlisle's stories. He assumed, also, that Poland glorified in the man's brilliance; the romantic had brought his country some fame afterall; especially in France. He wondered where the girl had discovered his music.

His interest in her only grew when she started playing music that he had never heard of before. Edward would like to say he was very, very, very, very well learned on all peices musical; especially those which were for piano. Of course, he had more than enough time to go through as much music as possible; he didn't have to sleep after all.

He wondered to himself whether she might have composed the music; but the fact that she was so young...

His suspicians on this subject were confirmed however, when her tutor, he saw in her head, came in to tell her that she should 'most certainly not be playing such music'; she had composed it, apparently her 'tutor' whoever he was, didn't like it. Edward had to wonder who he thought he was. The peice she had been playing before he had entered had been beautiful. It was almost a shame for her to have to revert to her previous peices.

Later in the day, when she moved into the main hall to play for the presentation; Edward moved inside to listen to her play. Luckily, it had rained; during the presentation, it was pouring down outside; he therefore didn't have to disapear as soon as the sun came out.

He looked around the presentation, which happened to be about the People's Budget of 1909, put into place by Lloyd George and the Liberal government. The presentation was, thankfully, about how great it was; if it had been a presentation from the rich about how bad the taxations were, Edward didn't think he would have stayed as long. He had realised in the past how self centered rich people were in this day and age. He and Carlisle were well off; him being a doctor; but they were not rich.

As the day passed by, the girl played through an array of different peices from different composers; Edward particuly enjoyed her rendition of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Beethoven was another popular choice, it seemed.

She was playing a Chopin Nocturne when he approached her. He stood by the piano and watched her play for a long while; she played several peices while he merely stood and took her in. There was nothing particuly interesting about her, for a human. She had a nice scent though, and her talent was apparent.

Her thoughts, he found, delving into her mind, were also rather amusing. She seemed to think that he was waiting for her to make a mistake so that he could laugh at her. He almost laughed at her determination to focus on her playing once she'd thought of this.

Unlike him, she had the disadvantage of having quite short fingers, which changed some of the peices a little; in some places she had to play split chords, which made him smile a little. It sounded brilliant still; you could hardly ruin such peices by playing a couple of extra notes, the right ones as they were, they fit with the peices even if they were played a split second late. It was cute to see how annoyed she grew with this fact though. Her thoughts let him into the fact that she often grew annoyed with her small hands.

Eventually, another man came over; he saw the girl tense as she saw him; quickly focusing once again on the peice she was playing; rather than letting her mind wander over his presence. Her 'tutor' approached Edward with a polite smile, extending his hand to him. Edward was very glad on days like this that gloves were in style.

"Gordon Jacob" the man said, grinning at him, and bowing a little.

"Edward Masen" he replied; recognising the man's name; he was surprised; the man was a composer, but one who focused primerily on orchestral peices; he was sure.

"Pleased to meet you. I noticed you watching Mildred here..."

He looked a bit annoyed to Edward; he was thinking that Edward was looking for errors in his student, and he thought it was rather insulting.

"Yes", he replied carefully, but truly, "I was just taking the time to revel in her talents."

"Ah" the man, Mr Jacob, replied.

"Does she have any compositions of her own?" he carried on, pretending he was blissfully ignorent of the man's embaressed thoughts.

"Yes, of course", he turned to the girl, "Milly dear, you must play this man some of your own peices."

Edward watched as she looked up, a little shocked, finishing the last few chords of Fantasia, her eyes glancing towards Edward for a moment, before they returned to the piano. "Of course tutor", she murmered softly. Something told Edward that she was scared of the man; not that her thoughts acknowledged this.

He watched her play four of her compositions consecutivly; they were beautiful, of course; he had heard the first one she played earlier in the day. He chatted with Gordon Jacob for a little while, before carefully telling the man that he wanted to listen to the peices properly; I.E. without interuption.

By the time she had played the finishing notes of her fourth composition, it was dark outside again, and the rain had ceased. She turned up towards him, to look at his face. "Will that be all sir?" she asked, he read in her thoughts that she wanted to be off home now; she'd had no break for lunch, it was now dinnertime. She was tired and hungry.

"Edward", he replied, "Of course; that'll be all for now".

Shall I carry this story on? What do you think? Reviews please? And let me know whether I should continue?

x x x x