A/N: So here's chapter two. Its a bit on the shorter side and it's not quite as humorous as the first one, but I can assure you, chapter three will be better. This is a bit more of a transition chapter. Thanks to TayBee for betaing :)
Chapter II
Bella's transformation dragged on for two more days and Edward sat loyally by her bedside, watching her agony, in agony himself. He refused to leave her side, not even to see his daughter, though he could still hear her thrashing around and tearing everything she could get her hands on. An occasional scream from Rosalie would erupt from downstairs as well, caused by his daughter.
His daughter. It pained him that he had any relation whatsoever to that thing. That thing was a monster. That thing had nearly killed his wife.
"Figures," he mumbled to himself, "a monster such as myself would only produce a monster. The apple never falls far from the tree. It's logical."
The fact still remained that Carlisle had faith in the little demon's rapid growth. Her growth was slowing since the first day; that much was obvious, but it was still rather noticeable. She now appeared to be about six or seven months old and her rapidly growing tuft hair rested just above her shoulders. From Edward's limited access to her mind from the upstairs bedroom, he could see that her mind had begun to mellow. She wasn't entirely focused on her bloodlust, though that was still a dominant thought. Like most seven month old babies, she was beginning to realize that there were other people than only herself in the world, and it delighted her to interact with them. Rosalie had taught her how to play peek-a-boo, and she adored the simple game, breaking out with bell-like laughter every time she and Rosalie played. One day she shrieked and screamed even more than usual. Rosalie had tried everything to try to soothe her, from countless games of peek-a-boo to more Barbie sacrifices. Finally, she resorted to giving her Esme's second-best silver to play with, which immediately soothed the thing's discomfort. It delighted the child even more than peek-a-boo. She loved to twist the metal into knots then show off her creations to Rosalie.
She simply adored Rosalie. She had begun to think of her as a motherly figure which was only logical considering Rosalie was the only one who would go near her.
That will break Bella's heart, thought Edward bitterly. He knew how much she loved the child. He wondered if that love would falter in the slightest when Bella saw it.
Bella was peculiarly silent throughout the course of the transformation. Carlisle claimed it was the morphine and that she was in less pain because of it. But Edward thought otherwise, no, he knew otherwise. The agony is his wife's face was all too apparent. That was so much like Bella, to keep her pain silent to keep him content.
Edward couldn't say for certain when the transformation ended; it seemed as if one moment, Bella was still withering in pain, while then next, it had abruptly stopped and her eyelids fluttered open.
Bella's mind was fuzzy and clear at the same time, if that was even possible. She couldn't quite recall why or how she had gotten here, but her new senses seemed to sharpen everything: the pattern of the plaster on the ceiling, the coarse material of the bed linens under her strong hands, the odd noises coming from downstairs, the sound of metal ripping and folding...
What were those noises?
"Bella?"
Bella was not prepared for the sight of Edward. Her human eyes, she now saw, gave him no justice whatsoever. Her more than perfect vision could now pick up every gorgeous aspect of his face.
Suddenly, a shriek was heard from the floor below, followed by bell-like laughter. It wasn't a voice Bella recognized, but as soon as she heard it, she knew at once it was her daughter.
"Edward," she asked, surprised at the clarity if her own voice. It was much smoother and seductive than it had been in her human state. "I want to see my baby."
A pained expression crossed Edward; Bella could not fathom what it meant.
"Edward," she started. She desperately wanted to see her baby. The more she thought about, the harder it became to be separated from her. "I want to—"
"We need to hunt first," Edward stated.
As soon he said the words, Bella was acutely aware of the sharp burning in her throat. She hesitated, mulling over the matter. What was more important? The aching in her throat or the baby?
"I promise you can see the baby after we hunt," Edward assured her.
At the mention of the word "hunt" again, Bella was won over. Bella knew that there was now nothing more important than sedating her thirst.
Downstairs, Rosalie and Jacob supervised the child. The child sat on the floor, arranging the decapitated Barbies (heads and bodies) and her twisted silverware creations in a circle around her. Rosalie sat close by, ready to pounce on the child if she tried anything destructive or reckless. Jacob sat on the couch, a look of longing in his eyes. He was not permitted to be any closer to the baby. It was a miracle in and of itself that he could even be in the same room with her.
"Her bloodlust is dulling," Carlisle stated, and it wasn't only because she wasn't attempting to kill Jacob any longer. She was also calmer and more controlled when she drank from her bottle. Even Edward had grudgingly admitted that she wasn't constantly thinking about blood.
"Bella's awake," Rosalie stated. She could hear the commotion up in the bedroom.
The baby seemed to hear it to. In a flash, she reached for Rosalie's arm. Rosalie instinctively recoiled, but the child managed to grab her arm. But it wasn't like previous times. Instead feeling the little thing's teeth dig into her arm, an odd sensation came over Rosalie. Curiosity. But it wasn't Rosalie's curiosity. It was the baby's. Somehow the baby was relaying her curiosity about the situation upstairs to Rosalie by merely touching her.
Rosalie gasped.
"What is it?" Jacob asked, jumping off the couch immediately to make sure his beloved imprintee was okay.
Rosalie only stared at the child in disbelief. The little demon smiled proudly and reached out to repeat her "question" to Rosalie once again.
"I think she's found her power."
