Title: The Witching Hour
Chapter: Empty
Fandom: Twilight
Author: MysticStoryteller
Summary: "This is it! This is real!" Serena exclaims. But I couldn't help but wonder if this was all nothing more than a clever ruse.
The Cullens are on the move again, and Renesmee is none too pleased. Everything seems to be going wrong. That is until she meets a coven of girls that have magical abilities and she is invited to join. It is wonderful and exciting at first, until things get out of hand. Very soon, she must figure out who she can trust and do it quickly: the Harvest Moon is coming.
Rating: T for dark themes.
Pairings: Jacob/Renesmee/OC, Edward/Bella, Jasper/Alice, Rosalie/Emmett, Carlisle/Esme
Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight fandom, much to my dismay.
A/N: Hey! This story is entitled "The Witching Hour" and it is, sadly, not an idea that was created by me. In fact, it was created by Missphoenix05 on Youtube. It's a really wonderful trailer, I think you should take a look (a link will be posted on my profile). So, really, I just took this story (well, take is a strong word. I asked to write it) and made it my own. There are other versions, so I appreciate the fact that you are coming here to read this one. So, do enjoy! Feed the starving writer and review!
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The Witching Hour
Chapter I: Empty
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It is a very odd thing, stepping into your own house for the first time. It is like being born: everything is new. The people around you are new, the places are new, even you are new. And there is a sense of emptiness to it, as you stare into the very bare, quiet home that you will soon inhabit.
The whole thing is very uncomfortable, like a newborn faun walking on shaky legs.
"Ness! Can you help me with these?"
I turn to see my mother, beautiful and young in her immortality, struggling over the doorstep of our new house with boxes in her arms. We both know she can handle all of those on her own (the strength of a vampire does that to you), but, I help her just to humor her.
I don't like leaving Forks, my one true home. Where Grandpa Charlie is always waiting to take his "angel of a granddaughter" out for some dinner or a movie, where school is not some alien place full of people I don't know, where I can go running through the forest and not care, because I know that no one is watching.
And, after all, Jacob promised that he'd take me cliff diving sometime.
Mom was certainly not pleased about that, and neither was dad. Jacob was stone-faced at first, but all I had to do was give him the puppy dog eyes and he couldn't wait to take me.
I sigh slightly, making my way up the soft, carpeted stairs that hold no memories yet compared to the welcoming stairs of the Cullen household that I ascended and descended daily; I suppose it's true that you never know exactly what you have and how lucky you are to have it until it's gone.
"Hey, Nessie? Where should I put your bag?" Jacob stares up at me from the open doorway. He is handsome, I must admit. He has a muscular build and a dangerous, attractive grin. His dark short hair accents his dark, chestnut eyes. But, he is my best friend and I couldn't ever think of him that way.
"Just take it up to my room," I answer. I set the boxes on mom and dad's bed in their giant room before bounding down the steps, down the wooden-floored hallway and into the quaint kitchen. I stare out the three large windows that lie before an empty space where Emmett, our heavy-lifter and my cuddly-bear uncle, will put our kitchen table. My thoughts are on Jacob, still, as my eyes stare out into the gray sky and the barren wasteland that is summer turning to fall.
Lately, he's been acting very different. His gazes linger longer, his touch is sweeter, and his words are deeper. I am worried. I cannot think about him as he thinks about me, but, one day, I will have to or it will kill him. I feel caught, torn between a lifetime of trying to love him in a way I don't or being truthful to me and destroying him.
Mom and Alice tell me that I will grow to love him eventually and that I should give it time. But, I feel pressed. Jacob cannot wait forever. I can tell that he is having trouble suppressing his feelings for me. How much longer can he wait to have the first kiss? I trust Jacob, but he is being shattered by this, I can tell, no matter how much he tries to deny it.
Alice, my aunt, bounds in the room gracefully with Uncle Jasper in tow. "I love this new house!" she exclaims. "Isn't it wonderful?"
I nod, biting my lip a bit and letting my eyes wander over the cupboards of the cooking area of our new kitchen.
She prances over to me. "Isn't it?"
"I suppose."
Her face makes a seamless transition from pure joy to caring and receptive worry. "Why not?" she puts an arm around me, and pierces me with those sweet, loving eyes.
I let out a sigh. "It's just…not Forks." I meet her gaze, filling mine with sadness and regret.
She offers her shoulder, and I lay my head there. I am glad for my Aunt Alice and my Uncle Emmett, who are my two constant companions, cohorts and confidants, especially with things I can't tell mom and dad. "I know, love. I felt the same when I was a newborn."
I look up at her. "You did?" This is difficult for me to imagine, considering Alice adapts so easily to her environments with grace and poise, like a chameleon: fitting perfectly in any situation.
"Yep. I was like you: young. I needed a constant. And I didn't like moving around so much. But, I realized that my new family was my constant," she stands me up and holds me at arms length. "We'll always be your constant."
She pulls me into a hug, which I accept. "Thanks," I murmur into her arm.
When the embrace is broken, she reveals an energetic grin. "We're all pretty much the same. Except for when Rosalie PMS's."
Rosalie enters the room, looking a little skeptical. "Did you just say something about me?"
"No, of course not," Alice is the perfect, award-winning actress. She pulls this off wonderfully.
As soon as Aunt Rosalie leaves the room, we collapse into a fit of giggles. Jacob enters the room, he seems as though he's been on a warpath to find me; he does that occasionally, especially in a new environment that he is unfamiliar with. I can tell that he worries sometimes, in these places, when I'm nowhere to be found. He panics, although he doesn't need to; he is still very protective over me.
"Something funny?" he asks, leaning against the counter and folding his arms, pretending as though he wasn't worried in any way. But, he doesn't fool me. I can even see the beads of sweat that had begun to form on his forehead.
"Oh, nothing," Alice says, winking at me as she turns away. "Well, I'm going to go set up my room. I'll see you all in a little while!" she kisses me on the forehead before dancing down the hallway and out of sight.
There is a small silence between us. "Are you alright?" Jacob asks quietly, gruffly; he can tell that something's bothering me.
"Oh, nothing," I murmur, biting my lips and trying to smile. "Just feeling a little homesick, that's all." I try to downplay how much I miss home. I know it would break his heart too much; he'd bring me the whole state of Washington if I'd ask him.
He doesn't seem convinced. "Are you sure?"
Inwardly, I sigh. It is very Jacob to press too hard and invest in a full-fledged investigation, just because I am missing home. "Yes, I'm fine. Well, I should go unpack," I say, trying to save myself from an awkward moment. I come out from behind the counter and begin to make my way towards the hallway.
"Renesmee," his docile tones make me freeze.
He comes up behind me and gently brushes his fingers through my dark hair that cascades down to my shoulder blades. I stop him before he reaches my lower back.
Images flash through my head; they are not mine, they are his. I see us sharing our first, passionate kiss. Now, we are running through the wet streets at night, laughing, holding hands, proclaiming our love and freedom. The scene changes and Jacob is on one knee and I am crying with joy, hugging him as he stands and nodding my head wordlessly. I see us standing at the altar, slipping rings onto each others fingers.
Jacob was never very good at guarding his thoughts from me. Even now, eight years after my birth, he still hasn't learned how to selectively show me all his thoughts. I often wonder if he feels a need to be honest with me or to not censor his feelings. Or perhaps this is just another sign of how Jacob is: free, fully himself, unafraid of what others may think.
"Jacob," I warn. "Not yet." I can't help but betray in my eyes how this connection between us. My eyes are pleading for more time, for more space. I don't want to hurt him, but I can't help myself.
Without another word, I walk quietly away, down the hallway and up the stairs, leaving Jacob to stare after me with his eyes full of regret and hurt.