Making a few corrections that I noticed right after this was uploaded the first time. I also added a bit on the end, but certainly no big changes were made
Izabela was a blur as she ran through the trees. She was in a new place, as always. The woods were thicker here than she was used to; wetter and greener too. Still she only had a vague idea of where she was. She knew she was somewhere in North America, way up north, but beyond that was a mystery. She had yet to pick up a newspaper since leaving New York City, so she was woefully uninformed on her position. Newspapers were usually her way of keeping up with herself when she was traveling; which she always was. The newspapers told her where she was, what the date was, the most current world events, and the latest styles; they were the best source of information she could get. Humans, she found, could not be so easily trusted to give her information. They were either completely enthralled with her, or else completely terrified of her. She couldn't really blame them though. In the years since her change, Izabela had experienced her appearance only a few times. She first looked upon her new face in the crystal clear streams of her homeland and since then she had seen brief glimpses of herself in the occasional truck stop bathroom mirror where she often stopped to clean up after feeding. Because of this, her new face felt largely unfamiliar to her, even after all these years. Her appearance, she believed adamantly, was wholly unnatural. She moved with inhuman grace and predatory poise. In fact, everything about her was predatory, right down to the expressions on the perfect planes of her face. But it was the red eyes that made her most frightening to the humans, and even more despicable to herself. They reminded her of deeds past, present, and future that she would rather forget.
Greenery whizzed past her face, her feather light steps rustling twigs and leaves underfoot. Finally, she arrived at the source of the familiar smell of bleach and illness. Hospitals hadn't changed much in the last 100-or-so years. This hospital was one of the smallest that she had seen though. A small hospital for a small town. Anyone who died in there would be sorely missed. But the burning in her throat was growing increasingly persistent. She knew this was where she needed to feed lest she lose her composure on her way to a bigger city. This would have to do. She would make her peace with God on her own time.
Izabela did what she usually did in these kinds of situations. She got as close as she could to the hospital without being seen and listened. A woman was trying to soothe her newborn baby, her heartbeat increasing as she worried that she didn't know what to do. A doctor muttered under his breath as he tried to remove a small toy from a child's nose. And an old man said what he felt to be his last prayer. That was the one she needed. With the last weak rays of the sun hidden behind the clouds, she made her move.
She didn't make a noise when she slipped in through the second story window. Even if she did, the humans would be none the wiser of her presence. She slipped quietly into the room of the old man, who sat eyes closed hands clasped still whispering the final words of his prayer. She was sitting on the chair normally left for visitors by the time he opened his eyes. It looked and smelled as if it had not been used since he got here. Good. This would be less painful than she anticipated.
The old man's eyes were blue. They were blue and deep and sad. They took her to another time and place. Thousands of faces and thousands of blue eyes flitted through her memory. They made her heart ache in her empty chest.
"Are you an angel?" the man said. He was ready to go.
"Maybe not quite the one you were hoping for." Izabela smiled softly despite her aching heart. She needed to put on a good face. His last moments needed to be everything he deserved.
"But you are. You are here to take me home." He whispered with a bright toothy smile.
"Not the way that He intended you would." Her eyes drifted to the pristine clipboard at the end of his bed. Colon cancer.
"Maybe this is what He intended. If God wills, even a cock will lay eggs." This brought a more genuine smile to Izabela's lips. She still marveled how customs of her homeland had made it so far. She reached a hand out to softly caress the old man's cheek. He jumped slightly at the cold and his heartbeat increased as he stared into her deep red eyes. With a light kiss on the cheek, Izabela moved her face slowly to the crook of his neck. She placed a final kiss right over his pulse point before swiftly biting down and drinking her fill.
When he finally lay spent and cooling, Izabela heaved a heavy sigh. She licked the wound on his neck shut. His blue eyes lay open and glazed. Empty. Another blank stare to add to the collection in her memories. She closed them gently, but sat still with his hand in hers just a bit longer. She only let go when the door slammed open behind her.
The first thing she recognized was the smell of vampire. It was pungent; it stuck in her nose and set fear in her bones. How could she be so careless? She hadn't smelt anything outside of the hospital, but now she may have unwittingly ended up in another's territory and that did not bode well for her. The scars that lined her body were reminders enough. She quickly turned her head to get a look at the supernatural intruder, and was struck with the sight in front of her.
He smelled like vampire. Looked like vampire, too. The planes of his skin were smooth and free of imperfections. He stood stock still. No breathing, no twitching. Still as a statue. But his eyes told a different story. They were not red but an unnatural gold, twinkling at her in a way that she found to be incredibly unnerving.
The color made her unsure of herself. Izabela did not like to be unsure of herself. So she was frightened of the "maybe- vampire" and the threat that he could possess. Her skin prickled with tension. He was dressed like a doctor; lab coat hanging loose and a stethoscope around his neck. Maybe she had encroached on his hunting grounds. Maybe the old man with the blue eyes was his next meal. She was not in a good position.
Izabela's brain kicked into overdrive. She stood stock still, eyes lowered with her neck clearly exposed; all the while vigorously turning over the situation in her head. Escape routes, possible weaknesses of her potential adversary, the routes and conditions of the humans in their vicinity. The facts and figures swirled in her head in that familiar pattern she learned long ago. It was as if she were back in her homeland, fighting for her life and for a man who did not truly love her. And just as she had then, Izabela was determined to anticipate every possibility. Except one, that is.
"Hello," the could-be vampire said. His voice was musical; like a hundred bells in a gentle breeze. Izabela had learned to be wary of such sweetness though. She of all people knew that pretty packaging did not indicate that she was safe, especially with their kind. And certainly any "vampire" that would greet her so cordially, with such humanity, could not be trusted.
She didn't dare speak.
"My name is Carlisle Cullen and my family, or coven rather, have taken up residence in this area." Family. How unusual. Izabela had not thought of having a family in a long time. She had hardly felt connected to her last "coven", and since then had travelled alone without any thought that it could be different. But this… vampire had a family. And she was encroaching on their territory. Of all the stupid things that she could have done, she had been careless. So, with the intention of avoiding the trouble she had so carelessly caused, Izabela did what she always did in a tight spot. She ran. Only later did she recognize the faint call of "Wait!" as she flew out the window and back into the cool dampness of the trees.