Chapter 2

Wild Rose

When he brought her home, at first I thought she was a cadaver he would use for some kind of medical experiment. But when he pulled the sheet away I was stunned. I'd not seen so much damage done to a living human since he'd brought Esme home. She was a mess, and so close to death her wounds were barely weeping and her heart rate was nearly impossible to detect. The only thing I could really tell was that she had blond hair; cascades of it. She had blue eyes, even though she would clearly lose the one if she managed to live. The smell of her injuries made me hunger for her, and it was only his watchful gaze that kept me from biting into her bruised neck and drinking what was left of her blood.

"Do you feel strong enough to do it?" His question caught me off guard. Did he mean for me to kill her? What he meant was almost the opposite – he wanted me to change her!

"No, I can't do that. I'll kill her if I taste her blood."

"Are you sure? She hasn't got much time, and I really think you're strong enough." He wanted me to do it. I was so overwhelmed with my own thoughts, I didn't examine his closely. I got that he wanted me to feel connected to her. I left the room. I heard his blissful thoughts when he tasted her blood. I almost went back to feed, his thoughts were so compelling. But his restraint has always been so strong. He resisted finishing her.

He followed me and sent me back into the room. "You stay with her while she changes." And then I realized what his plan was about. He wanted her to be a mate for me! If I had a mate, I wouldn't be drawn to his wife, and she wouldn't be able to sink further into her psychosis that I was a child. He'd already taken the first step to achieving his goal, and it was the dim hope of having a love of my own that made me obey him.

I went back in and sat beside the table as she began her death throes. He'd placed her on a marble topped bakers table, which was the best place she could be, considering the way she was likely to thrash about when the pain really began to take her. I took her hand, noting that her fingernails were all broken off, and several of the fragile bones were broken. It was then her one good eye turned toward me and she stared at me with open hatred. Her thoughts jolted me with their powerful animosity. How dare I touch her, and where is the one who bit her? She had no idea what was happening, in fact she thought we were continuing the attack which had battered her body beyond repair.

When her memories began to flash in my head, I actually cried out at the horror and pain she'd gone through. I felt her betrayal, and saw the way her young, virginal body was violated – again and again. She was used, mocked, beaten, kicked, tortured, and then thrown away like garbage. And when my mind finally sorted my thoughts from hers, I found myself clinging to her, trying in vain to protect her from what had already been done.

Her hands, frail and weak, pressed against my chest, trying to push me away. She loathed my touch, and feared my nearness. I was one of the enemy. I was one of those who possessed a phallus; whose sole design and purpose was to rend and use her body for our own lusts.

I pulled away from her, and tried to soothe her with my words. Like my mother had comforted me when I was ill, I tried to console her, telling her it would be alright and she would make it through her pain and suffering. Her split lips turned up in a sneer and she cursed me. Then she screamed. Her womanly shrieking tore through me, and the hand that had pushed me away now clawed at my arm in her agony.

"Please, just let me die!" she begged. "Kill me... please," she whimpered. I witnessed her painful and slow transformation for two days. There were times when she was out of her mind with the pain, and other times she lay exhausted from her writhing and wailing. Her body had already begun to repair itself, and her red eyes held mine during the times of relative peace. She didn't know I could read her mind, and her vitriolic thoughts of the retribution she wanted to take from me would have shocked anyone who didn't know what she'd been through herself. It wasn't that she hated me specifically, I was just a representative for the male gender.

In the days she suffered, Carlisle and Esme never came into the room. I knew what he wanted and that he had to hold Esme back since she wanted to come and comfort the girl. He hoped we would form a bond, and that she would learn to trust me. He didn't realize how broken she was, and the bond she formed with me was one of animosity and mistrust.

But inevitably she transformed. Even though I watched it happen, it amazed me how totally different she looked. Even her hair held a new luster, and from that crowning glory to the tips of her toes, she was perfection. I had believed Esme to be the most lovely creature on the planet, but the girl outshone her. I imagined with blue eyes instead of red, she would have seemed an angel in all her glory. When she sat up on the table, the sheet slipped and her nudity was revealed. Her body was a work of art, and I struggled to keep my eyes on her face in all it's breathtaking wonder.

She didn't bother to cover herself, but instead she looked at her body in amazement. She ran her hands over her flesh, and that's when I saw her smile. Her busted mouth and broken jaw were healed, and that smile was a wonder to behold. I had a sudden and strong urge to kiss her, just because I knew her lips would be heavenly. But I kept still. I admit I imagined having her as a mate; she was the most exquisite creature I'd ever seen. The thought of being intimate with such perfection made me gasp.

"Where am I?" Her voice was as lovely as her body and face. "Have I gone to Heaven?" She looked around suddenly, seeing the room as if for the first time. Confusion marred her porcelain face, and she looked at me. "Who are you? What's happened to me?" Carlisle had comforted Esme and explained the change to her, but he was absent, and I could tell she thought I had something to do with her situation.

"My name is Edward, what's yours?" It was the wrong thing to say. She was suddenly faced with the realization that she wasn't in Heaven – in Heaven the angels would know her name. I almost smiled at her belief that I was a beautiful angel.

Her thoughts were too chaotic to follow, and I heard bits and pieces at random: 'Edward? What kind of name is that for an angel? Maybe I'm in Purgatory? Maybe I'm dreaming? Why does he want to know my name? My name is... Rose... Rosalie... oh my god I don't remember who I am! What is this? Why am I naked? Somebody help me! Mother! Father! Oh god, he hurt me so bad... they did things... terrible... terrible... I thought he loved me... it's not fair... I didn't deserve... why?

Her thoughts were splintered, but the images that flashed through her mind were crystal clear, and horrifying. What was done to her was worse than what the men I'd killed had planned to do to the girl I'd rescued. The images flooded my head, and I saw the faces of true evil. Everything they did to her was locked inside that beautiful head, and the damage was more than physical. They'd destroyed her. She was bathed in hatred, like a cleansing acid. She'd been humiliated, and she'd suffered broken trust. She was anchored tight in the events of her destruction. Everything else she was paled in the light of what they did to her. Her mind was so different from Esme's, and I didn't know how to comfort her. Esme had wanted to be loved, but Rose or Rosalie didn't even want to be touched.

'He laughed... my dress... they tore it... they wouldn't stop... they held me down... they forced me... I cried... I begged... It hurt... it burned like fire... I hate them... I hate them all! I'll never trust anyone again... why is he looking at me... he wants to hurt me too... I want to go home.'

Quick as a thought she snatched the sheet around her and tried to leave. I stood between her and the door. I reached for her, and again it was the wrong thing to do. She screamed. The supernatural sound pierced the air and it startled her. She stood staring at me with wide eyes. She wondered what she had become. She turned toward the window, and had the heavy drapes pulled aside before I caught her and pulled her back from her escape.

With my arm around her waist, she stiffened in terror. The image of what a man had done to her from a similar position tore through us both, and I released her. She threw open the window, and I was afraid she'd make good her escape. Then she froze.

It was the sunlight on her skin that made her stop. She held her arms out as the rays washed over her and set her to glittering like a jewel. She stared in shock as she realized she'd changed. Her wide eyes sought mine with a thousand questions. She reached for me, clutching my shirt she pulled me into the light as well. Then she stared at my glistening face.

I heard her question clearly in my mind; 'what are we?'

"Vampires," I answered as gently as I could. Her look of disbelief was in complete contrast to the way her mind instantly accepted it. She processed the knowledge as just one more horrendous violation that had been done to her against her will.

She backed away from the window and folded herself into a nearby chair. Her head dropped into her hands, and I knew she would be crying if she had the tears. Instead she moaned and gasped, and groaned a sound of such despair I held my hands over my ears to try to block it out. But it was not just a physical keening but a mental torment as well.

I left her there in her sorrow, knowing I couldn't comfort her – couldn't even touch her. I sought out clothes for her to put on, and Esme eagerly provided what she would need from her own closet. I took the clothes back to her room and she hadn't moved. I laid them out and prepared to leave so she could dress.

"I can't wear these things – I mean I won't!" She regarded the dress and all the undergarments with distaste. She stood and looked me up and down. "Bring me something of yours... pants and a belt... I don't want to be a girl!" The way she gave orders irritated me, but it was better than her sorrow, so I went. When I returned I forgot to knock. She wore panties, and she had cut the bustier from the corset. She was trying to lace it tight over her breasts, flattening them. She didn't seem to care that I saw her.

"Help me with this," she commanded, as if I were her attendant. "Pull these strings tight and tie them!" Her mind was focused on minimizing her femininity. It was the safest thing she could think about, and I helped her as she wanted. She pulled my shirt on over the bindings and then my pants. She tucked the shirt into the high waist and then threaded the belt through and fastened it on the last hole. She had to roll the pant cuffs a bit, but she was tall and had long legs. She prowled the room until she found what she was looking for – scissors. Before I could say a thing, she grabbed a handful of her luxurious blond tresses and sawed at them viciously with the scissors.

She couldn't cut through it. The dulled edge of the scissors was a painful reminder of what she'd become, and her mind teetered and tilted before righting itself. She darted for the door, and I was forced to chase her as she raced through the house. In the entry she found what she needed, and shoved her hair up under a hat she planted on her head. Then she looked at me, wondering if she looked like a boy.

"You look like a boy," I said dutifully. No one would ever mistake her lovely features for masculine, but she needed to hear it. I smiled timidly. "Would you like to be my new brother?" For once I said the right thing and she smiled. She was still beautiful, even in her pitiful disguise, and her smile made me dream of holding her.

"I'm thirsty Edward." It was her first mention of the compelling need, and I was startled at how long it had taken her to feel it. "Do we drink human blood?" Her voice quivered at the question, and I could tell she was terrified of my answer.

"No... never." I lied. "We feed on animals. We need to hunt... brother. I'll show you how." I took her hand, and she let me guide her out the door into the midday sun. We lived outside of town, and far enough away from any neighbors that the only evidence of humanity was in the planted fields on the sides of the dirt road. Hand in hand we raced through the fields and tore through the surrounding woods. It took everything I had to keep up with her.

She sensed the herd of deer before I did, and turned to intercept them. I didn't have to show her what to do since she was a supreme hunter. She had no reluctance when it came to feeding on the large buck she took down. I read the thought that she'd chosen it not for it's size, but because it was the male. She apologized for getting blood on my shirt, and promised she knew how to clean bloodstains. Before we went back home, I showed her some of the things we could do, from climbing trees, to incredible leaps. Each demonstration she copied, and I thought she was coming to terms with what she had become.

"I want to see my parents." She'd just leaped from the top of a mature oak, and somersaulted through the air on the way down, to land catlike on her feet – her bare feet – as she'd left without shoes.

"You can't." She looked hurt and confused at my denial. "Brother, you're dangerous to them now. They think you're dead, and they're probably planning your funeral. They can't know you're alive – what we are is a secret." It started to sink in that her old life was over, and her beautiful face fell. "You can't go back to them. You're different now."

"I never wanted to be different. I didn't ask for this! What good is it to fly through the trees if I can't hug my mother? How can you force my father to bury his baby girl when she's not dead? This will kill him!"

"No it won't – but you will if you go." I hated the brutality of my words, and she stared at me in stunned disbelief. "You can't control the thirst. You're a danger to humans, and you will be for at least a year."

"You told me we don't drink human blood!" she accused.

"We don't, but it's in our nature to hunt humans. Carlisle wants us to be different and only hunt animals."

"Carlisle? He's the one who bit me! He's the one who did this to me, isn't he?" The murderous rage she felt for our sire was overwhelming.

"He saved your life. If not for him you'd be at your own funeral – in a box. You were nearly dead when he brought you home."

"He should have let me die! What do I have now? I can't see my mother and father... I can't see my friends... I can't finish my schooling... and you haven't told me, but I bet I can't get married and have children, can I?" I stared at her. She was radiant in her anger. "Answer me Edward!"

"You'll live forever. You won't ever suffer pain. You'll never get old." I tried to tell her the good things.

"Children? Edward, can I ever have children?" She'd gone from being angry to sounding small and insecure. She wanted me to lie. I could hear the pleading in her mind, and the desperation for hope she could cling to.

"No... no children." And just like that she was back in the torturous cycle of pain, hatred, fear, anger, and self-loathing, from which our hunting trip was merely a distraction. With casual disregard, she toppled a pine tree as she screamed in frustration.

"It's not fair! I did everything I was supposed to do – why did this happen to me?" In her mind I could see the way she thought her life should have turned out. She wanted to be a wealthy socialite, wife, and mother. She wanted to host parties, be seen on the arm of her handsome husband, and kiss two darling curly haired children, before their nanny took them to the park. She wanted a big house with servants, and she wanted to be admired. I wandered over to the fallen tree and sat on the trunk. It all seemed so normal, but so shallow as well.

"It isn't fair, but it's life. You're alive, my brother..."

"Stop it. I'm no more alive than I am your brother." She poked herself in the chest. "This is pretend. I should be dead, and instead I'm pretending to be alive. I'm pretending to be a boy... because being a girl was too hard." She threw off the hat and her hair tumbled down her back. She reached inside the shirt and tore the corset off and threw the tattered bindings to the ground. "I may be stronger than any man, but I'm not a man. I'm not even a woman anymore." Her thoughts were on everything she'd lost, and I realized that what I'd thought was shallow was only the surface. It was the image she wanted to show, but her reality was much deeper.

She loved children, and she'd wanted to teach. She'd dreamed of all her feminine expectations since she was a little girl, from her wedding day to her job as a teacher, to her lovely home. She'd always known her real life wouldn't be as perfect as her little girl dreams, but she saw no reason why she shouldn't have a husband, a home, and children.

"Why?" She looked at me with the sad eyes of a child. "Why did they do that to me? I was nothing to him... less than nothing." The images were still fresh in her head, and I realized that they'd never fade. I didn't know how to answer her question. I couldn't imagine ever doing something like what was done to her.

"Sometimes... men drink, and it makes them behave like animals." It was a feeble excuse and she knew it.

"No. That's not good enough." She stood there, surrounded by trees, with the sun striking dazzling patterns off her skin, and I saw her resolve – felt it click into her mind. It was the first glimpse I had of her true self, with everything stripped away. She wasn't a pampered little girl, she wasn't a wealthy socialite, she wasn't a wife, mother, or even a daughter. And she certainly wasn't a victim. Standing there in my shirt and pants, with her feet covered in blood, pine needles and leaves, she was fully Rose. She was a beauty to look at, but oh you better never forget she had the sharpest thorns.

She must have somehow guessed I could read her, for as soon as the thought came into her mind, she smiled wickedly and turned to run. She was going after them.

Her newborn strength and speed took her quickly out of my reach, even though I knew the woods better than she did. I chased after her, hearing bits and pieces of her thoughts, and it didn't take her long to deduce that I couldn't keep up with her. She angled to the dirt road that ran past our house, and followed the dirt track toward town.

I had no idea how she planned to find the men who'd ripped her life from her, but she seemed to have a goal in mind. I lost even the sound of her thoughts as she put more distance between us. My fear was of course that once she met with other humans she'd leave a trail of death in her wake even a blind man could follow.

Once I made it to town, I was forced to slow down so I didn't attract attention. The sun was dipping low in the west, but I still had to keep to the shadows. There was no sign of her anywhere. I wandered around the town, looking for some clue as to where she'd gone. She never even told me her last name, so I couldn't find her home. Over an hour had passed, and I was feeling a bit panicked that I'd lost her, and I stopped to assess the situation.

There were people out and about, walking along the sidewalks, working on the many projects in the growing city, and traveling along the roads. There wasn't a bloodbath, nor any screams or dead bodies. I inhaled deeply, trying to catch her scent. There was the barest whisper on the breeze, and I followed it, right toward the center of town. It grew stronger as I went, and I found myself facing a large, opulent hotel. Still no screams or people fleeing. I wondered how she managed it. The hunger had to be driving her mad with so many people around.

Inside the hotel I caught a faint echo of her thoughts. I bypassed the desk clerk and headed for the stairway, where I raced up the stairs in search of her. On the third floor I heard an indistinct cry, as if it were muffled. I hurried to the last room on the hallway and found the door closed but not locked I stepped in with caution and she smiled my way, as if she'd been waiting for me.

"Edward, so nice you could make it to my party. You've arrived just in time since I had to stop at home first." I couldn't help but stare, since she looked as if she'd just stepped out of a burlesque show. She wasn't wearing my clothes, but instead had on women's dress shoes, stockings, garters, and a bustier. She was a fantasy most men would dream about, and she strutted around the room showing off her body. "I'd like you to meet two of my closest friends. This is Calvin, and this is George."

There were two beds in the room, and Calvin and George were each lashed to the iron bed frames. They were gagged, and naked. It looked like she'd already battered them, and I was impressed that George's bloody nose wasn't tempting her. They looked at me as if I'd come to save them, but I'd come to try to save her.

She sashayed to the far side of the room and faced me with a smile. "Do you like what you see, Edward? Calvin was so overcome with what he saw, he opened the door and let me right in – isn't that right, darling?" She pinched the cheek of the man nearest her, leaving a welt behind. "Calvin likes helpless women, and he's fond of slapping them as well." She slapped him so hard I thought she might have broken his cheek bone.

"Rose... you don't want to do this... they're not worth it. Carlisle doesn't want a killer living with us..."

"Carlisle? Carlisle made me like this! But not before dear, sweet, Calvin and George had their fun." She strutted toward the other bed, and the man's face drained of color. As she stared down at him with her red eyes, his bladder emptied. "Poor, poor, George," she sighed in mock pity. "George must have been a problem for his mother when he was a child, since he loves to suckle at the breast, but he bites." She reached out and pinched both his nipples til he writhed in pain.

"Rose, please stop. You have every right to be angry. I won't argue that they don't deserve this, but do you really want to be a murderer? It changes you, Rose – trust me – I know."

She looked like she was considering my words, but she was really being dramatic, tapping her chin and gazing off into space. "You know what Edward. If it was just the rape, maybe I could let them live. Or even if it was just the humiliation, I could walk away. And technically they didn't kill me." She looked between the two men as if considering. "But they're the reason my mom is crying at a cemetery this afternoon. They're the reason my dad looks like he's a thousand years old. And you know what? I think I can get used to being a murderer."

She was quick, and before I could stop her she snapped George's neck. "Yep, I think I can get used to this." She turned and pounded her fist into Calvin's chest, crushing his sternum into his heart with the force of a dropped anvil.

"You know, I really thought I'd feel a little sad... but I don't." She looked at me and smiled. "Did you just come to watch, or do you want to have a taste of them?" She flipped her hair casually over her shoulder. "I don't want anything from them."

I stared at the two dead men and followed her from the room. She didn't have to tell me what they'd done, I'd read their minds, and they were truly vile. I had to catch up with her, she was already at the end of the hallway, and standing outside another door.

"There are two more of my playmates in this room. Five men raped me, and five men are going to die." I stood back indecisively and watched. She tapped on the wood, and flirted at the peep hole.

"Go away, we don't need any whores." The sounds from the room sounded like sex, but I smelled blood. So did she, and she easily pushed her way into the room. I was helpless but to follow her, and what I saw made me appreciate what she wanted to do to the men. What I saw with my eyes was almost as bad as the images that flashed in my head from the hotel maid they were raping. I pulled the girl away from them, just as Rose attacked. I wrapped the girl in a blanket from the bed, and rushed her out of the room. I had to hurry, because I smelled blood – lots of blood. I took her to the stairwell and closed the door, and the scent of blood dimmed enough I wasn't overcome.

I carried the crying maid down the stairs and to the lobby of the hotel, shouting for help. In minutes there were many people coming to help, and I told them she'd been attacked. In the chaos, I stole away and went to look for Rose.

On the first floor, she had a room, and she was in the shower when I caught up to her. There were a couple drops of blood on the floor, and I knew the clothes she'd taken off were saturated in it. I sat down and waited, listening to the commotion over the maid, and waiting for the cries of alarm over the men on the third floor.

When she stepped out, she was dressed, and her damp hair was loose down her back. She was wearing proper clothing for a woman, though her gown was quite formal. She smiled brightly when she saw me. 'You can read my mind, can't you?' She looked me in the eye without saying a word.

"Yes."

"I knew it! Why can't I do it too?"

I shrugged. "Some of us get gifts and talents, and some of us get better at what we already are."

"You make it sound like there are many... how many?"

"Not many in this area. Maybe thirty throughout the country. There are many more in Europe."

"So we're rare. That's good to know." She moved over to the mirror and began brushing her hair. In a few minutes she had it twisted up and pinned. "How do I look in my wedding dress?" She didn't wait for my answer, but turned to look at her reflection. "It's nice to know I can use a mirror. Bram Stoker got many things wrong it seems." She turned and smiled at me again. "I'm not in your thrall, am I?" She laughed like she thought that idea was ridiculous. "What about crosses, silver, and holy water?"

"They make nice jewelry, or make you wet. And a wooden stake won't go through your heart either. Carlisle tried many times to kill himself when he was created. As far as he knows, we can only be murdered by our own kind." As I spoke, she dabbed on perfume and lipstick and closed the little purse where her toiletries came from.

"Well Edward, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be, or what I'm supposed to do. But I've got one more rat to take care of before I do anything else. Royce King the second and I have a little date. He had the nerve to stand beside my grave and hug my mother, and for that he's going to suffer." She glanced toward the window and smiled. "Good, it's almost dark now. I wonder how Junior will feel when he sees my ghost."

We left the hotel just as the bodies were discovered, and I heard the shouts and screams as people fled the third floor, and others rushed up to see what had happened. I carefully took her arm as we stepped through the doors unnoticed.

"Did you feed from the men?" We were walking along the road with her hand on my arm, as if we were a couple.

"No. They were poison. You were wrong about being dangerous to humans. I'm only dangerous to animals who rape and murder. I didn't even taste their blood." She was phenomenal in her self control, and I was in awe of her.

We walked about a mile from the hotel, and we were in a residential area, with stately homes. She stopped in the dark shadows of an oak tree. "This is his home. I've got a date with my fiance, Edward. This could get personal, and I don't want you to come in. But will you wait for me?" Because I was complicit to her murders, she now trusted me. It was a strange bond we shared.

I waited. I could hear just enough to know she was okay, but she was gone for over an hour. I saw her come out the side entrance and heave something high overhead with all her might, toward the nearby lake. I later learned it was his head.

She barely looked disheveled as she met me by the tree. "I have one more thing I want to do if you don't mind." We walked together to her family's home, and she peeked through the windows before she climbed onto the roof and entered through an attic window. When she emerged, she had a heavy embroidered bag, which I assumed held clothes.

"Where to now, Edward? Do we go back to Carlisle's and have it out, or is there someplace else we can go?" In her mind she was at peace. But with that peace came resignation that Carlisle could kill her for her crimes. I took her bag in a gentlemanly fashion, and we began to walk along the road.