Revenants and Redemption, or a Twilight Christmas Carol

Chapter 2: The first of the three ghosts

If the ghost of your best friend and business partner, dead for four years, appeared to you one night and told you that not only was he suffering eternal damnation, and by suffering he means suffering, but that you were heading down the same path and that "the three ghosts" were your only hope of salvation, what would you do?

Edward Masen does the only reasonable thing he can think of: he tries to ignore it.

Really, readers, can you blame him? You probably would have the same reaction. I know I would.

Also, notice that I've said 'tries'. He goes through the paces of his bedtime ritual, but he can't go to sleep. He would close his eyes for a few seconds, then re-open them to see if the hour had changed. He tells himself that he once one o'clock comes and went with no mystical or paranormal events; he would be able to get some sleep. Somewhere, deep inside, he knows better.

The numbers on his digital clock change from 00:59 to 01:00.

At first, it looks like nothing had happened. Then Edward notices a figure standing in front of the window. It is a woman, or at least it looks like a woman, but there are clues that the figure is something other worldly. First, she is beautiful, more so then any other woman Edward had even seen. Second, she looks ageless. Her long golden hair, smooth skin and perfect figure are all indicators of youth. Her expression and poise, however, seem to indicate maturity and experience beyond her years. Third, but perhaps that should have been said first, the glow of the moon seems to be reflected and amplified by her skin. All of her skin, and there is a lot of it to see. The strapless, bold red dress that the woman wears is barely long enough to respect decency laws. Her feet are covered, barely, by high heeled shoes made of many tiny straps of red leather, matching the dress. In her left hand, she holds a brown lump that looks like it could be some sort of fur coat, but Edward wouldn't bet on it. Her right hand is resting in her hip.

"So, you're the ghost? The one Jazz said was coming?"

"My arrival has been announced."

Edward and the ghost look at each other. The silence grows heavier by the second.

"Don't you want to put that on?" finally asks Edward, pointing at the lump of fur in the ghost's hand. "You've got to be cold, dressed like this."

"I've been wearing that thing for far too long. Now that I've got it off, I'm not putting it back on. It's bad enough I have to carry it around."

"O...Kay. I guess dead people don't get cold."

The woman sighs. "I'm not a ghost."

"But ... Jazz said ..."

"Can't trust mortals for anything," mumbles the non-ghost, before she raises her voice to explain. "I am a spirit, an anthropomorphic embodiment of Christmas Past. I'm not dead, because I was never alive."

Edward contemplates arguing with her some more, but he's supposed to be listening to her, not fighting with her. "Spirit," he finally says. "Got it."

"All right, let's go. I don't have all night." The spirit walks to the window and opens it.

"Wo, wo, wo. What's that? What are you doing?"

"We have places to go."

"Out the window? Are you insane? I can't jump out a window, I'm gonna die!"

"It's the closest way out, and you'll be fine."

"There's a door, right downstairs. It's in perfect working order. Just an extra minute or two, and that way I won't jump and fall to my death."

"We don't have a minute, human. The night is short, and we have much to do. Just take my hand."

"At least let me put some clothes on. I can get cold."

"Take. My. Hand."

The spirit's tone leaves no room for argument. Edward gulps, and then timidly puts his hand in the spirits. Her grip is like iron, and she pulls Edward out the window. Edward yells all the way down, and there is a lot more down to go then the two stories between his bedroom and the ground.

When he finally feels the earth under his feet again, he opens his eyes and stares at his childhood home, a house he had not seen for many years.

"That's my house. My old house, when I was a kid."

"I know," said the spirit, before pulling him through the door. The closed door. And then through a few walls until they reach the dining room.

It doesn't hurt him; crossing those solid objects feels exactly like crossing air. Still, it would take a while to get used to.

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, Edward hopes fervently that he doesn't get a chance to get used to it. That would just be too much.

The spirit lets go of his arm. He takes a look around the room, remembering all the little touches, all the sights and smells that made up the Christmases of his childhood. Little details that had faded from his memories.

And then he sees her. The beautiful and kind woman he had loved and lost so many years ago. She looks exactly the same he remembers her.

"Mom!" he calls out as he runs up to her.

"Calm down, human. She can't see or hear you. Just as well, too. From my I understand of you kind, most would find the sight of someone their own age running up to them calling them Mom disturbing."

He stops in front of his mother. He reaches out to touch her face.

"Can't touch her either."

Unable to take his eyes off his mother, he asks to the spirit: "What is going on here?"

"You are looking at the shadows of your past. You cannot interact with them. You can only observe. So observe."

Edward and the spirit watch in silence as Elizabeth Masen put the final touches to the Christmas breakfast. She smiled as she heard a young voice calling out to her, ringing with excitement.

"Mommy! Mommy, Santa came!"

Edward is smart enough to realise that the child who runs in the dining room and into his mother's arms had to be him, but he cannot reconcile what she knows of himself with the smiling toddler.

"Come on! Come on, Mommy! We have to go open the presents."

"Slow down, Eddie. Breakfast first."

"But Mommy!"

"The presents will still be there when we're done, I promise. You sit down, and I'm going to get Daddy."

Once little Edward is settled at his place, our Edward follows Elizabeth as she seeks her husband. She finds him at the door, with his coat and boots already on. Edward looks at his father, his namesake, Edward Masen senior, and he sees something he never wanted to see, something he swore he would never see: a reflection of himself.

"Edward, where are you going?"

"The office."

"But it's Christmas. Everything is closed. There's nobody to do business with."

"I'll catch up on paperwork, then."

"Edward, please. Think about Eddie. It's his first real Christmas. He's finally old enough to understand what's going on. We should all spend the day together, as a family."

"If he's old enough to understand, then he's old enough to realise that Christmas is a bunch of nonsense."

Our Edward feels nauseous as he watches his father walk out the door.

"I turned into my father. I promised myself that I would never be like him, and yet ..."

"Yeah," answered the spirit. "Yet. I bet you think you're an original, too."

Elizabeth sighs, and then gathers her spirits the best she can and makes her way to the dining room.

"Where's Daddy?" asks little Edward.

"He had an emergency at work."

"Aww."

Our Edward watches as his younger self and his mother eat their breakfast, then move on to the living room to open the presents. Then they play with some of Edward's new games and toys until the extended family arrives. A grandmother Edward didn't remember he had, many of his mother's uncles and aunts and cousins, and Edward's uncle Carlisle.

"Look at that," says our Edward to the spirit. "The way Carlisle playing with me, like he's having the time of his life. He's ten years older than me, for Christ's sake. He's a teenager. I was such a moody bastard as that age, you wouldn't have caught me dead playing with a baby."

"If you were dead, you couldn't play with a baby," answers the spirit in a bored tone.

"It's a figure of speech, Spirit."

"Figures of speeches are usually stupid."

And the Christmases pass, every one of those 25th of Decembers stretching out forever and passing in the blink of an eye. Most went exactly the same way; Edward senior would leave in the morning, and eventually little Edward stopped asking for him. Mother and child would eat breakfast, then open the presents and play with them, until the family arrived for the Christmas dinner and more celebration.

Until that day, the worst Christmas of Edward's life. He was eight years old.

Little Edward gets up before dawn, and gets ready to visit his mother at the hospital. She became sick, around Easter time, and had to be hospitalised in June, just after Edward's birthday. Edward wants to spend Christmas with her, to watch her open the present he bought her, to have that day with her. He knows that it'll be her last.

Little Edward marches into his father's office, with his coats and boots on, holding his mother's present in his hands. "I want to go to the hospital now."

Edward senior, busy as he is filling out paperwork, doesn't even look up to his son. "That won't be necessary."

"I don't care about necessary. I want to go and spend Christmas with Mom."

"You mother died during the night."

Both Edwards stare at their father, shocked at the news and the cavalier way it was announced.

"Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you wake me up?"

"What good would it have done you to be up? She would still be dead."

The phone rings before young Edward can answer. Edward senior picks it up. "Hello? Yes, thank you for getting back to me so promptly."

"Don't you care about her at all? Don't you care that she's dead!"

Edward senior hold up a finger, in the universal sign of 'I'm busy, give me a minute.' Young Edward turns around and takes the first step out of the room.

"Edward!" barks out Edward senior. "Come back here, sit down and shut up!"

Our Edward looks as his younger self does what his father told him too, feeling the same mixture of anger and sorrow. He also feels a dread that his younger self does not; he knows what's about to happen.

"Yes, that will do just fine. Thank you. Good bye." Edward senior hangs up the phone and turns to his son. "That was the registrar's office at Hackley School. They have received your files, and are ready for your arrival."

"You're putting me in a new school?" asked young Edward after a moment of confused silence. "Why? Why now?"

"Because I believe that you will be able to better focus on your studies at a boarding school and why not now."

"You're sending me to a boarding school?" It was something young Edward could not understand. Sending children to boarding school was done by evil stepmothers, to get rid of children they didn't want or like. His father felt that way about him?

"You leave in two days. I suggest you start packing now."

Edward senior had dismissed his son. The younger Edward realises at that moment, clearer than he ever did before, that yes, his father felt that way about him.

"I hate you," he says to his father in a low tone, almost a growl. "You're the one who should have died."

"Well, the world just doesn't work that way."

Our Edward watches his younger self leave his father's office. He had gone over the shock of his father's indifferent cruelty years ago, or so he believed. And still he hurts. And still he rages.

Edward senior walks to the chair his son just left and picks up the gift for Elizabeth. Younger Edward had left it behind. Our Edward can't even remember what was in it. He only remembers that it was something he had spent hours looking for, that he chose it carefully.

"It was a music box that played Clair de Lune," says the Spirit. Does it come as a surprise to anyone that she can read Edward's thoughts? "She loved the song, said it was hopeful."

Edward senior tosses the gift in the trash can, unopened.

"You bastard. You asshole! You didn't give a shit about her, and she was the best thing that ever happened to you! Didn't you care?"

"I've already told you that they can't hear you. And of course he didn't care. He married her because she came from money."

"Why did she stay with him?" Edward doesn't look at the spirit. He continues to stare at his father, hopping that he's in the same kind of hell Jasper is in, only ten times worse. He deserves that.

"For the same reason she got married. For you. She thought that a boy needs his father."

"She was wrong."

"Humans often are. All right, time to go." The spirit grabbed Edward's wrist.

"Wo!" Edward resists against the spirit's pull, shocked, fascinated and a little bit scared by what he was seeing. "What happened to your skin?" The hand of the spirit is sparkling; there is simply no other word for it. It shines like a diamond in the sun, breaking out in tiny rainbows.

"Never mind my skin. We have places to be." She pulls him forward, to the boarding school where he spent the next 10 years of his life. The school wasn't a bad place, but younger Edward wasn't in any kind of mood to acknowledge that. Our Edward remembers, to a point, what he was thinking at that time. He was angry and hurt; at his father for not loving him, at his mother for dying, at the world in general for being an enormous ball of suck.

And still, watching the other boarding school kids having enjoyable Christmases while he sulked in a corner, remembering how much his mother had loved the season, and how much he did as well, back when she was alive, he begins to wonder if he hadn't made his life harder then it needed to be.

Things got a bit better when young Edward met Jasper. It's hard to imagine what those two cynical, moody boys ever saw in each other, but from the day they met, when Edward was 14 and Jasper was 15, they were inseparable. Rather than spend his Christmas day sitting in a corner alone and brooding, Edward spend Christmas sitting in the corner with Jasper, mocking the Holiday fools.

The years went on, until senior year. Jasper has already graduated, but he comes to visit Edward. Or to be more exact, to bust him out. They are going to a party.

"So I'm dropping out of college," says Jasper conversationally, as if he was talking about picking up a burger for lunch.

Teenaged Edward snorts. "Dude, what are you, stupid?"

"No, those classes are stupid. The people are stupid. College is stupid. There's nothing those bastard could teach me, I already know all the material. I could get a degree online in half the time and for half the price, so that's what I'm gonna do."

"So we're going to party with stupid people. Way to sell it, Jazz."

"Get your head out of your ass, Ed-ster. Parties are the only thing those college jerks do better than anybody else."

Our Edward remembers the fear that his younger self felt at that moment: that the college kids would have some sort of Spider-sense, that they would know he's only in high school, and that they would kick him out, or totally humiliate him in some way. But he had enough pride not to show if fears to Jasper.

"So, what are you gonna do, if you don't go to college."

"I'll probably get that online degree, work some shitty job to get some extra money aside, get a loan that I might never be able to pay back, starve for a while, and start my own business. Want to be my partner?"

"Having our own business? Hell, yeah, I do!" And he did. There was nothing young Edward wanted more then to work side by side with his best friend. "You sure about this?"

"That's right. I've got a plan, I've done the research. I know it can work. I will make it work, if I ever got the money. I figure, with the two of us saving up, we'll get the funds twice as fast. Besides, there's no one I'd rather work with then you."

"I've got money. Or I will, pretty soon."

"I don't think you realise the kind of money I'm talking about, here, Edward."

"The old man died a month ago. I'm the only heir. Once I'm done cutting through the red tape, and when those taxes leeches are done feeding, there should be close to 500 000 bucks, maybe more."

Jasper looks at his best friend, speechless. They are now standing in front of the house where the party is given. The Christmas music that Edward now hates is playing loud enough to shake the windows.

"All right, we'll talk about that later." Jasper made his way up the stairs, letting Edward catch up to him. "And listen: stop freaking out about the party, okay? Nobody is gonna card you. Just grab a beer and a girl and have some fun."

Both Edwards laugh at that. "He always knew," says our Edward. "I don't know why ever tried to hide anything from him, he always knew."

"Party's inside," says the spirit in lieu of answer. "Let's go."

The party had been nothing like what he had feared, remembers Edward as he looks around, brimming with nostalgia. There was a lot of drinking, a lot of talking, and very little dancing. As Jasper had said, no-one asked him how old he was, or what did he think he was doing here. Younger Edward is slowly relaxing, nursing one beer because he's afraid that the hall monitor will give him a demerit if he returns to the school drunk.

"Are you not going to drink anything else tonight?"

The younger Edward turns to find the person who just talked to him. It was a female, of the hotter than hot variety. The most attractive woman Edward had ever met. The sentence would apply to both Edward, actually, if not for the spirit standing next to our Edward.

"Jesus Christ. Tanya." Our Edward whispers to himself. "I forgot that this is where we met. Jesus."

The younger Edward is equally flustered, but he manages his wits. "Yeah. I mean, I don't need any alcohol; your presence alone intoxicates me."

Our Edward groans. "I still can't believe that line actually worked. It was so bad."

Tanya blinks, and then starts to laugh. "I've got to give you points, pretty boy; that took balls. I'm Tanya McKinley."

"Edward Masen."

"Eddie!" yells Jasper at that very inopportune moment. Everyone, including our Edward and the spirit, turn to face the drunken man.

"Is he talking to you?" asks Tanya.

"Yeah, I think he is," answers an embarrassed Edward. "It's probably time for us to go. I'm his ride."

"Well I'll leave you, then. One of you should be sober." Tanya reaches inside the back pockets of his jeans and slips him a piece of paper. "Call me," she whispers in his ear, before leaving him with a wink and a pat on the ass.

"Hey, spirit, that reminds me! You think we can go back and rewind? I wanted to see when she wrote her number for me. I wasn't paying attention. Please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"This isn't a VCR. You didn't pay attention the first time, that's just too bad. Come on, we have to follow them."

Jasper and Edward had left the party and were making their way back to the school.

"Man," Jasper said. "I can't believe you scored with Tanya McKinley. You are a god. And you know what? I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna take your money for my stupid business plan."

"You business plan better not be stupid, man. I'm investing in it. What changed your mind?"

"I thought about it, and I figured out what was bothering me. It wasn't taking the money; it was your father's money, and you hate him, which means that, as a best friend, I hate him to. Let's bleed the sucker dry! What bothers me is taking all the money, all for me."

"It's for us, dude. You're making me a partner, remember?"

"Well, you gonna keep some of it just for you. That's the condition. You do one thing, all for you, and then we become partner and we suck all your pop's money. You should buy Tanya something fancy, so she'll put out."

"I thought I was a god, I don't need to buy her fancy stuff. Not yet."

"Can't hurt. Anyway, what's your big plan?"

Young Edward thinks about it for a second before he answers. "I'm gonna change my name, legally."

Jasper laughs at the idea. "To what? Harry Baals? Hugh G Rection?"

"Edward Masen."

"That's already your name, assface."

"My name is Edward Masen, junior. I'm having the junior removed. Then I won't be reminded that I share a name with a douchebag every time I sign a check or something."

"I've gotta tell you, spirit," says our Edward as Jasper cheers his best friend on. "I never realised before how many important moments of my life happened on Christmas day."

"And we're not even done yet," adds the spirit. When he looks at her blandly, he extrapolates "Tanya? Don't you remember Tanya?"

"Of course I remember Tanya. We just saw her, didn't we? Oh, wait. You mean ..."

"That's right. Next stop, Splitsville."

The next three Christmas pass by in the blink of an eye. They were mostly spent partying with Tanya and working with Jasper, though with every year there was less and less partying, and more and more work.

"I'm telling you, Eddie, I don't know how much longer I can go on like this." Tanya stands in front of an Edward that doesn't look so young anymore. If he and our Edward could somehow stand in the same space at the same time, and be seen by someone other than the spirit, that person would be confused.

"So you either go on a bit more and find out, or you make the changes you need to make."

"Maybe you're the one who should change. You're the problem here."

"I sincerely doubt that. I'm not the one who's complaining."

"No, you just hide in your office and work all the time. Look at you now, for God's sake!"

Indeed, both Edwards, Tanya and the spirit are now standing in the office of Masen and Whitlock, the same office where Edward still works to this day.

"I would think that you would be more understanding of my work, Tanya. It's because of that work that I have the money to buy those pretty things you want."

"I don't care about the pretty things! I don't care about the money! I want you to be there, with me. I want a commitment from you."

"You're old enough to know that you can't get everything you want. I thought I'd made myself clear; I'm not going to be involved in any kind of serious relationship. I thought you agreed with me."

"I'm pregnant, Edward."

Silence falls on the room, and grows heavier, and heavier. It becomes hard to breath, even for our Edward. Only the spirit seems unaffected.

"Edward, say something," Tanya finally begs.

"I wish you the best of luck in raising your child, if this is what you choose to do."

"What? No, we're supposed to raise out child, together."

"Believe me, the best thing I can do for this child is stay as far away from its life as humanely possible."

Tears gleaming in her eyes, Tanya slowly turns around and walks out of the office. Edward stays exactly where he is, not moving, barely even breathing, until Jasper walks through the door thirty minutes later.

"Shit, Edward, you look like a warm dish of crap."

"Right back at you." Jasper was indeed looking rather dishevelled. "It's almost noon, where the hell have you been?"

"I just overslept, man. Had a weird dream. Anyway, what's with you?"

"Tanya and I just broke up."

"Wow, that sucks." After a moment to ponder the end of the relationship, Jasper speaks up. "So, back to work. You got that file I was looking for?"

"Yeah, there it is."

"You're not as nonchalant as you're pretending to be," says the spirit to our Edward.

"I'm trying to be, though. I know, I mean I knew, even then, that you shouldn't be part of a child's life unless you want the child in your life. The one good lesson my father taught me. Could you do something about that?" Our Edward points at the spirit's skin, which has become the brightest source of light in the room. "It's starting to give me a headache."

The spirit doesn't answer, or even react. "One last stop."

The spirit grabs his arm and drags him through the wall. He finds himself in a living room that's not his. It's nice enough, in a cluttered, suburban middle class way. Three women are sitting on the couch, drinking and laughing. One of them is Tanya.

"Wait!" Edward notices something wrong. "Where's the baby? Wasn't she pregnant a year ago? She should have a newborn baby with her right now, or near enough. Was she lying?"

"She had an abortion. She didn't want to raise a fatherless baby, and if she wasn't going to raise it, she didn't see the point of giving birth to it."

"Oh." Edward understands, of course. It's a woman's choice and all that. What were the options? His child being raised by a resentful mother, having a miserable existence? Being tortured by the knowledge that there was a little boy or girl, with half of his DNA, he would never meet? It's for the best, he tells himself as he rubs against the sudden ache in his ribcage.

Two men walk in the room, interrupting the party. Edward thinks he recognises them. Didn't they go to college with Jasper and Tanya? "Guess what we just heard," says the first man. He is tall, with long red hair he keeps in a ponytail. "Jasper Withlock is dead."

"He is not dead," corrects the second as Edward stops breathing. Shit. That's right. It was a year after the break up with Tanya that Jasper died.

"Soon, though," continues the second man. He has chocolate coloured skin, and dreadlocks that fall past his shoulders. "He had, like, a stroke. We saw the ambulance, and the EMTs were standing there arguing with that douche Masen because he wouldn't let them take Whitlock to the hospital. Something about not having a DNR."

"You mean he had a DNR," says one of the girls Edward didn't recognise. She looks a lot like Tanya, maybe a sister. "It's a paper people sign that says "if I'm dying, don't do anything to save my life" or something like that. I saw it on TV."

"Anyway," the first man takes over again. "There was that lady there, the house keeper. She found Whitlock and called 911, you know, like normal people do. Masen fired her, said she invaded Whitlock's privacy or some stupid shit like that. Can you believe it?"

"Wonder what's gonna happen to Masen now," says the other girl, also Tanya's sister from the look of it. "Whitlock was, like, the only person who could tolerate being with him for more than five minutes."

"He'll be fine," answers Tanya bitterly. "Edward Masen doesn't need human beings. As long as he has his ledgers and his money, he'll be fine. Hell, he's probably happy he doesn't have to share the wealth anymore."

Edward cannot take this venom anymore. Especially not from Tanya. "Shut up, you heartless, murdering bitch. Shut up!" He runs out; he can't be in this room anymore. He needs to find Jasper.

Running blindly through walls shouldn't work, and yet it does. Edward finds himself in Jasper's room, standing over the dying body of his best friend. He yells out his name, over and over. He tries to shake him, but his fingers run through like there was nothing

"How many times do I have to tell you that you can't interact with them? This is your past. You can't change your past, Edward Masen; you can only learn from it."

The spirit shines brighter then the sun. It makes Edward sick. It has to stop, it has to stop.

Through the glare, Edward sees it; the fur coat. In a primal scream, he runs up to the spirit, grabs the coat from her and does all he can to smother the light, to smother her. He manages to wrestle her down.

When he hits the floor, he realises two things simultaneously. The first is that he is back in his bedroom. The second is that rather than the spirit, he is holding a pillow.

Edward tries to catch his breath. He heaves, in and out, in and out. His heaves turn into sobs, and soon he is crying. For his mother, for his best friend, for his father's pointless cruelty, for the heart he broke, for his unborn child, and for the child he had been for too short a time.