I stood several feet back from the crowd. Deep in the shadows of a brick passage, I stared across the dense human crowds. The sun blazed down brilliantly, casting glowing halos of light around their wind tousled hair. The air was crisp with the fresh feel of early spring. I had not fed for weeks and my throat throbbed with the heavy scent of human blood that washed over me with each stirring zephyr. It swirled around me, scorching my throat with that familiar thirst. I curled my toes within my boots, feeling the cool stone cobbles through the soles.
Over the heads of the crowd, I fixed my sight on the face of the massive clock tower. It hung to my right, like a sentinel standing watch over the human throng. Each grinding gear, every ponderous tick of the mechanism chanted out the final seconds of my life.
A fine mist rose from the fountain in the center of the square. Ethereal rainbows danced through the water droplets, invisible to the humans, but to me, dazzling in their beauty. I took a step forward and tensed in anticipation of my death.
In those final moments of my life, it was strange that only the last two years seemed significant. The decades since Carlisle changed me were a blur of solitude. Occasional glimpses of light shone through. . .
Meeting my new mother for the first time. . . . . .
Standing as Best Man for Carlisle when he wed Esme. . .
My admiration of Rosalie's inner strength and fortitude when she carried Emmett, broken and bleeding, into our lives. . .
The unexpected arrival of Alice and Jasper on our doorstep. . .
Assisting Carlisle in his medical laboratory. . .
Sharing a new composition and experiencing it through the emotional responses from Esme and Alice. . .
. . . but few experiences were powerful enough to draw my spirit up from the depths of my monotonous depression. Until Isabella Marie Swan arrived in a small town called Forks, Washington. And my life began. . .
I had known more fear and pain in those last two years than the entire rest of my life. But I had also tasted the sweetness of first love, delved deep into the complex mind of my soul mate and discovered new dimensions of my own character. Her love made me whole.
I appreciated my family more completely. I looked around me at the mortals who walked obliviously through their short, troubled lives, and I loved them. I recognized the bravery of some and the generous spirits of others. For the first time, I truly heard and understood their hopes and fears.
And I found my own hopes and dreams. I lived each day with a purpose: to love and protect her.
But I had failed.
I despaired when I received Rosalie's phone call. My body, my heart, my very soul recoiled from the news. My guilt and self hate engulfed me. But worst of all was the fierce betrayal I felt. I had not sensed her death. I always thought, with a love as intense as ours, that I should have been aware of something. I should have felt her end, shouldn't I?
If I had a soul, it would have been linked to hers for all eternity.
If I only had a soul. . . That was the reason I could never be joined to her completely in this life, or the next.
Carlisle was adamant to the very end. He insisted that we were not abandoned by God. He believed wholeheartedly in a path to salvation for everyone, even our accursed race. Many times over the last several months he had spoken directly into my mind, reassuring me that Bella and I would be reunited, if not on earth, than in heaven. He was firm in his beliefs and I had accepted the fierce love behind his thoughts, but it had done nothing to comfort me in those dark hours.
There was nothing here for me. Without Bella, the night had returned. Darker. Colder. More absolute in its desolation.
A palpable tension was growing in the machinery within the clock tower. The gears strained against one another in an ever increasing crescendo. . . until the restrained energy was released with a resonant clang.
My eyes were fixed on an invisible point above the crowd. My hands rose mechanically and I slowly unbuttoned my shirt, one button at a time. One button for each tolling of the clock.
11. . . 10. . . 9. . . The vibrations filled the square making the air around me shimmer.
8. . . 7. . . 6. . . My shirt slipped from my shoulders and drifted, ghostlike, to pool at my feet. The bright light from the square reflected back into the shadows—even to the recesses of my tunnel. My skin glowed softly.
5. . . The pain in my throat, the noise of the crowd, the roar of the thoughts within my mind were muted and died away. All that I heard, all that I felt were those decisive notes. I drew in my final breath. The black abyss beckoned and I stepped forward willingly.
4. . . My imagination conjured an angelic voice, crying my name, drawing me forth into the light. My eyes were closed. My arms hung loosely at my sides. My hands were turned, palms forward, accepting, even welcoming my death. The Volturi were watching.
It is finished. I smiled at that thought. This was the end. I lifted my foot and brought it forward. . .
My advance was halted by a light impact.
3. . . I reflexively wrapped my arms around the soft body that pressed itself against me. I opened my eyes slowly, unbelieving. The chime of the clock still reverberated around me but I was no longer in the city square of Volterra. I was standing with my love, encompassed by the warmth of eternal sunshine. Hot blood pulsed in her veins. This was more real than any hallucination.
"Amazing," I murmured, transfixed by the beauty of her depthless brown eyes. How ironic that my final thoughts had been so wrong. "Carlisle was right."
I brought my hand to her face, stroking her petal-soft cheek. I marveled at the heat that radiated from her flushed skin. The racing pulse of her heart drowned out the tolling of the clock. That sound. . . the definition of my existence for so long. . .
I had torn out my own heart when I left her so many months before. Now, the steady throbbing that permeated my being repaired the hole in my chest.
"I can't believe how quick it was. I didn't feel a thing—they're very good." I was bemused by the thought, admiring my murderers for their flawless execution. Just that slight bump, and then. . .
I closed my eyes and pressed my lips against her silky hair.
"Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty." I recited the words of Romeo when he discovered the body of his slain bride. His words were echoes of his despairing love. Mine sprang forth from the well of my limitless joy.
The final clang of the clock tower rang out and faded into the distance. I inhaled deeply. The scent of freesias and strawberries washed over me. Air so sweet, but as caustic as sulfuric acid, tore down my throat and into my lungs. Every cell felt as if it had been perforated by the fire. This pain, more powerful than I remembered, was sweeter to me than a divine blessing.
"You smell just exactly the same as always," I groaned. "So maybe this is hell. I don't care. I'll take it." I would endure any fire, any torture to gaze upon her countenance for the rest of eternity.
My vision spoke, but the words that poured from her lips made no sense at all. "I'm not dead and neither are you! Please, Edward, we have to move. They can't be far away!"
"What was that?" I was stunned and confused, asking for clarification almost mechanically.
"We're not dead, not yet! But we have to get out of here before the Volturi—"
The Volturi! I returned to earth with an audible snap.
Bella! My spirit cried with joy. I was not dead. She was not gone!
The exhilaration of this realization obliterated every evil thought since I had abandoned her in the woods behind her home. I did not understand, I could not fully comprehend how, but hope and love returned to me and washed away the darkness. But not even this intense happiness could conceal the menace that loomed around us.
I was newly aware of the tense thoughts of a cluster of humans, regarding us with fear and apprehension. Two deep mental voices advanced from behind me, cautious but determined to end this. To end us.
Bella was frantically pushing against me, urging me back into the shelter of the shadows. Her clothes dripped with icy water, but her skin burned me like an open flame. Danger of the most terrifying sort was closing in on us, but for this split second I held her safely in my arms. For that briefest of moments, I experienced nirvana.