As was usual for a Wednesday night, the alley was dark and motionless. From my vantage point on the roof of the grimy, brick building, I could see the foot traffic on the lit sidewalk below. Groups of fancily clad men and women paraded past the mouth of the alley, chatting animatedly, oblivious to the world around them. In their distracted state, not one of them noticed Henry Brewster enter the dark space between buildings, glancing over his shoulder as he did. I grimaced as I heard what he was thinking.
She must be here somewhere… I saw her here just the other night, so young and beautiful…
I nearly gagged as I saw the image in his head. In his fantasy, Brewster would stroll casually up to the young prostitute he's seen here the other night. He would introduce himself to her and they would leave, disappear into the shadows at the far end of the alley. There he would rape her, and when he was done, he would kill her. Just like the girl last week. The girl I had been too late to save. Brewster knew that no one would notice if another prostitute went missing. No one would look for her killer. No one would care.
Except for me.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the image of the young girl – Brewster's last victim – out of my head. Brewster's thoughts had tipped me off as I passed near where he was performing the sick act. By the time I had gotten to the scene of the crime, it had been nearly dawn and Brewster had already slipped away. The girl lay broken, her dress torn, blood seeping from the gash in her neck. It was her eyes that haunted me. Blank, staring eyes that glared accusations at me in the gloom. I ground my teeth together in frustration, trying and failing to remove the image of those eyes from behind my eyelids. Nothing worked.
Had I had the chance, I would have killed Brewster the next night. I would have killed him any night for the past week… had I had the chance. But Brewster seemed to be one of those people who simply couldn't be alone. He was forever surrounding himself with friends or family, attending theatrical performances or making appearances at parties. Even when he slept, there were always people around. At first I thought he was extremely popular, but in time I came to see that he was a follower, that he belonged to the entourage instead of being the center of it. Still, his incessant need to be around people left me with no opportunities to end his miserable life.
Not for the first time, I was struck by my perverse sense of justice. What a hypocrite I was, judging these perverts when I myself was just as much of a monster. A killer of killers. I believe the proper term is vigilante. I'd known from the start that this was a god complex, deciding who lived and who died. If I was looking for candidates for execution, I had but to look in the mirror. Lately, I had begun to question myself, to be ashamed of my arrogance. I had begun to imagine what Carlisle thought of me as I went against everything that he believed in. I'd begun to picture his face, crumpled in disappointment, his golden eyes reproaching me. I missed him terribly, missed Esme terribly, missed home terribly…
I shook my head to clear those thoughts. Brewster was moving to the end of the alley, looking for his intended victim. I smiled vindictively to myself as I thought of earlier in the evening, when I had found the prostitute and paid her to take the night off.
Damn it, where is she? Maybe I'll go look for her at the –
The thought was cut off by my survival instincts kicking in. I'd heard a noise behind me on the rooftop; it sounded like heavy boots on dirt and grime. I spun away from the source of the noise, taking refuge in the dark shadows that lined the roof. Automatically, I reached out with my other sense, searching for the mind that went along with the boots. In the end, it turned out I didn't even need to.
"Huh, I could have sworn that I saw someone up here, leaning over the edge," a rough voice said. Hmmm, I must be imagining things. But I could have sworn… He looked like a kid… hmmm, maybe I need to lay off the drink like the wife said. Can't be doing me good if I'm seeing things… The construction worker walked to the edge of the roof and peered over the side, making sure that the person he had seen had not jumped. Through his eyes, I could see that Brewster was no longer in the alley. I swore softly to myself. I was going to have to find him before he tracked down another victim. If I was too late again… I shook this thought out of my head as I slunk away from the construction worker and slid down the side of the building.
I followed Brewster's scent until it disappeared at the edge of a street. My eyes narrowed as I realised that he must have gotten into a taxi. "Damn." I peered up the street, knowing full well that I wasn't going to be able to track the taxi; the road was inundated with confusing scents. I would have to rely on my other sense to find him. Hopefully, he had given up on the hunt tonight and was headed to meet with his friends. I would start there.
It wasn't as easy as I had thought it would be to find Brewster's mind again. I had thought that he would stand out in a crowd, that his "voice" would be easily identifiable after hearing it for over a week, but I couldn't locate him in the crowds near his usual haunts. The air smelled of excitement as I rounded a corner and found myself in front of a fancy hotel. People were lined up outside, taking pictures and having their pictures taken. I searched the minds of the people around me urgently, trying to find Brewster.
… so excited! This ball is supposed to be the swankiest event of the year! …
… better find a phone and call my wife to let her know I'll be late…
… just look at her, all dolled up for the evening. Isn't she a sight…
I grimaced. There were so many excited voices all screaming at me about tonight's ball, but not one of them was Brewster's. With a sigh, I made my way through the many spectators and looked around. All the people Brewster liked to be around where here. From their thoughts, I knew that there were no other get-togethers happening tonight. Where else would Brewster go? There were so many dark corners in Chicago and I didn't have time to search them all. Think, Edward, think, I thought to myself, aggravated that this was so hard. I stepped into a doorway and cleared my head, letting my other sense range out. Hopefully he hadn't gone far.
… just one more drink, I think…
… aw, don't be like that, sugar…
… Where is she?
Success.
I scrambled up the wall next to me, and swung myself onto the roof. I started running, leaping from one building to the next, scrambling to get to the alley I saw in Brewster's head. The alley was next to a rundown convenience store named Vini's, and I knew exactly where that was. As I ran, the buildings became shabbier and fewer people walked the pavement. The shadows were deeper here, like they were hiding morbid secrets. Which, of course, they probably were. It wasn't hard to imagine that types of things that went on in these shadows. I'd been a part of those things.
Brewster's thoughts were still spiralling in my head, but they weren't confused anymore and he's stopped searching. He'd found what he'd been looking for. I swore under my breath as I saw the face of the prostitute I'd paid off earlier in the evening. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. She was flattered that he had come looking specifically for her. I groaned as I watch him take her hand through his thoughts. She smiled seductively at him and I could feel the lust in his mind. I begged whatever god would listen not to let me be too late to save her.
Swearing quietly to myself, I landed silently on the roof of Vini's and flitted to the edge of the building. This alley was nearly identical to the one I had watched over earlier. They stood behind a dumpster at the far end, away from the street, away from prying eyes. I perched on the rooftop above their heads and watched as Brewster kissed the girl. I felt ill as his thoughts poisoned my own, filling my head with images of his morbid intentions. Unfortunately for him, I wasn't going to let him walk away from this one.
As I watched, Brewster pulled a knife from his pocket and fear blossomed in the air. It tasted like acid on my tongue. The girl struggled against the murderer's hold on her, begging him to let her go. I wondered briefly why she didn't scream until I remembered where we were; chances were, in this neighbourhood, no one would care. I tried not to listen to her panicked thoughts as they distracted me from my goal. A snarl ripped from my chest, but it was too quiet for the pervert to hear. Without hesitation, I stepped off the ledge and landed almost silently on the pavement behind the murderer. The girl noticed and froze in terror.
The girl's sudden stillness tipped Brewster off to my presence. He whirled, holding the flimsy knife out in front of him. I smiled ironically at how useless the weapon would be against me. Brewster's eyes grew wide as he took in my appearance. What the hell…?
"Who are you?" he demanded in a voice he meant to be strong and fearless. I smiled wider, the taste of his fear mingling with the girl's on my tongue. My expression seemed to unsettle Brewster more than my sudden appearance had. The girl was still frozen against the dumpster. She recognised me from earlier in the evening and wished weakly that she'd listened to me. She'd thought that she'd just add a little to the sum that I'd given her, just to make up for the slow nights she'd had recently. I wished she would run so I could do what I had come to do without witnesses. She didn't budge.
I sighed and turned my attention back to Brewster, whose hands were shaking in fear. "Who are you?" he demanded again. I said nothing and stepped closer. "Back off!" Brewster hissed. "I'm warning you, I'll, I'll…"
"You'll what, Henry? What are you going to do? I'm not some weak female that you can easily overpower." I glared at him, letting my rage at what he was burn through me. My self-control was slipping and I fervently wished that the girl would run.
My use of his name threw Brewster for a moment. "How do you know my name?" he whispered, his eyes growing even rounder. The knife shook worse than ever and I could see that his knees were buckling. I smiled at him again and stepped closer.
"I've been watching you, Henry," I purred, stepping even closer. "I've watched you go about your pitiful life. I watched you kill that innocent girl last week. You're a monster, Henry, and you're time is up."
With a whimper, the girl passed out against the dumpster and I swore under by breath. Hopefully she wouldn't wake up until I'd left. Maybe she'd think she'd imagined the whole thing. I took another step toward Brewster and my smile turned into a snarl. Brewster's eyes bugged at the sight of my exposed teeth and he did the only thing his small mind could think of doing. He attacked.
I could have let him see how futile his human weapon was against me, could have let him try to slice through my skin with the dull blade, but I wasn't in the mood for games. I stepped to the side, avoiding his advance, and took his head in my hands. Brewster dropped the knife in shock as my teeth sunk into his neck. Hot, thirst-quenching blood flowed down my throat and the sensation felt so good I nearly moaned. He tried to cry out, but only managed a low gurgling before he went completely limp in my arms. I let him drop to the ground, disgusted.
I could feel the strength his blood had given me pulsing in my body, but it didn't bring me a sense of satisfaction like it usually did. Instead, I felt ill. The expression "you are what you eat" popped into my head and I resisted the urge to gag. Certainly, I didn't regret taking the monster's life; he'd deserved it. Instead, I regretted drinking this killer's blood, regretted having any part of him inside me. I felt dirty.
A low moan snapped me out of my reverie. The girl was still slumped against the dumpster, her head lolling to the side. Her mind was filled with images of knives and shadowy creatures and a longing for home. Thinking that it would help her forget tonight, I gently lifted her into my arms with the intention of getting her home. Her thin face was grey in the light from the moon. She was so young. I sighed and took off in the direction of her small apartment.
The girl's face relaxed as I laid her down in her bed. She murmured something in her sleep, but I couldn't make it out. Swirling colours filled her dreams as she drifted into deeper sleep. I smiled sadly to myself as I watched her. She looked so peaceful, so innocent, in sleep that it made me long for unconsciousness myself. The sound of a dripping faucet cut through the silence and the girl twitched in her sleep. Hoping to help the girl sleep peacefully, I went in search of the dripping.
In the small bathroom, the faucet dripped again and I reached out to tighten it. The dripping stopped and I smiled to myself, satisfied that I'd helped the girl as much as I could. Without really meaning to, I looked into the mirror above the sink and cringed at what I saw.
I was a monster. My devil's eyes glowed crimson in the faint light coming from the window in the living room. My expression was one of disgust and my earlier feelings about drinking Brewster's blood flooded back to me. How could I have thought that targeting killers would make up for what I was doing? I should have been back with Carlisle and Esme, hunting animals. I should be leaving the judging to God.
In my head, I compared my father's angelic face to my own evil one. Carlisle's face was wise and his compassion was evident upon his brow. His was the face of a good man, the kindest, most considerate and loving man I had ever known. There was nothing of his compassion or his goodness in my sorry features. My face was guilty and belonged to someone with the blood of countless people on his hands. Someone who deserved to die for what he'd done. Images of the confrontation in the alley danced in my head, taunting me, accusing me. I couldn't take any more.
I turned and vomited into the toilet.
~*~
I hesitated at the blue door, my hand raised, about to knock. I had reconsidered this a thousand times on my way here, weighed pros and cons, but I could not make a solid decision. And now here I was, standing in front of this door. It wasn't too late to leave…
Suddenly, the door opened and my father stood before me with a surprised expression on his face. Edward…? In his mind, I could see myself as he saw me, my hand still raised, my skin glinting in the moonlight, my eyes black as coals. I had tried to hunt on my way here, but found that I couldn't. I had no will to strengthen myself, even with animals. All I wanted was to cease to exist so I wouldn't have to face the image of the monster in the mirror every time I closed my eyes. Of course, my father would never blame me for what I had done. He wouldn't even think badly of me. And this made it worse.
Carlisle's face burst into a smile so radiant that I was nearly blinded. "Edward," he said aloud, and his voice was relieved and exultant. Guilt burned a hole in my chest as I took in his expression, his thoughts. To add to the fire of my guilt, Esme appeared at Carlisle's shoulder, her expression mirroring his. Her eyes were a light gold colour.
"Edward!" she cried, throwing her arms around me and hugging me close. The hole in my chest sizzled and I winced. It hurt to see them so happy to have me back. It would have been easier to deal with accusations and hatred. I closed my eyes and a whimper escaped my lips. Esme pulled back and stared at me, shocked. Without warning, I collapsed to the ground and dry sobs shook my frame. I didn't understand what had brought this on, but I was powerless to stop it. All the pain and all the guilt from the past two years smothered me, threatening to crush me under their weight.
I was aware of someone pulling me to my feet and leading me to a sofa. I sat and curled myself into a ball, letting my emotions run wild. The thoughts of my parents were shocked, pained, and confused. I could do nothing to explain myself.
"Edward… what's wrong?" Carlisle asked, putting a comforting arm around my shoulders. I felt Esme stroke my face, trying to get me to calm down. But I didn't feel like calming.
"I'm a horrible person," I moaned, trying to shake them off. I seemed to be the only one who agreed with my assessment.
"No, you're not," Carlisle soothed. His words only made the pain worse. I moaned again.
"I've killed so many people."
Carlisle shook his head, his eyes full of compassion. Abruptly I was furious. I shrugged out of his embrace and stood before him defiantly.
"Yes, I have," I growled, clenching my teeth against the pain.
"I'm not disputing that, Edward," Carlisle assured me calmly. "But a horrible person would not even spare a thought for what he had done. You appear to be in immense pain over it. So, clearly, you are not a horrible person." Carlisle was so sure of his logic that it disarmed me and I sank to the floor again, all the anger gone.
"Why don't you hate me?" I breathed, unable to meet his gaze.
"Edward, I could never hate you. You simply went your own way for a while. I never expected you to blindly accept my beliefs. And now you've come back, and I'm so glad that you have."
"We love you, Edward," Esme crooned, stroking my hair gently, lovingly. "We always will."
I was silent. I couldn't find it in myself to argue anymore. I started blankly at the floor, trying to come to terms with my actions, knowing that I probably never would. I sensed rather than heard Carlisle get to his feet. He wrapped his hands around the tops of my arms and pulled me into a standing position.
"You look thirsty," he commented, trying to get me to look at him. "Let's hunt."
I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye, so I just nodded to the sofa and followed him out of the house.