I looked out the window at the house that now became mine. I know I should be happy about it – I finally owned a home, a 3 bedroom, 1 and half bath, two floored home complete with a basic basement and livable attic. Yet my shattered heart couldn't allow me to understand that this was as much a joyful moment as it was a sad one. Ellena Bishop passed away in her sleep while in the hospital under the care of Dr. Gregor Mackavoy, at the ripe old age of 89. I, Allison Bishop, inherited the house while the rest of the estate covered her medical bills.
Forks, Washington wasn't my first choice of a place to live, but as a writer, a published writer, I could live anywhere I wanted and still maintain a fairly decent living. The world didn't know me as Allison Bishop, instead Chauncey Adams, high-fantasy novelist that detailed the lives of humans and demons co-existing in the same universe but different realms divided by a veil. It was currently a five book series, expanding into seven. To everyone in Forks, I was my grandmother's beloved granddaughter, the break out hit that brought pride and respect to the family name. Everyone I met and introduced myself to kept telling me how great of a woman she was, as if I only saw her during the holidays.
They didn't know that Gram, and every female in our bloodline, were witches. We practiced witchcraft since our earliest ancestor, Bridget Bishop, was hanged in the Salem Witch trials. Almost like a curse, as if to spite the Christians that hunted down witches and killed them, the gift grew stronger with each generation. Gram practiced it more than my mother or me, and she always told me that I needed to become more involved with my gift. I told her that it was just magic, but now that she's gone, it's more than magic. It's the link that held our bloodline together, and it is also the reason I would never sell the house.
Ingrained in the walls of that home was magic. Every corner I turned was a memory. Every cup of tea I made in the kitchen down to every time I soaked in the bath tub with bubbles, it brought back happy memories that threatened to overwhelm me with the desire to see my grandmother again. Except she was dead, and I was alive, and no amount of magic could bring her back.
" Are you ready to go inside?" Dr. Cullen's asked me as he pulled his vehicle up the drive and parked it in front of the garage, pausing long enough to sense that I didn't want to set for in that museum of memories. " My wife has an extra room that she would not mind permitting you to use-"
I shake my head. " I need-to confront it all. Gram, she wanted me to have this, and for better or worse-it's mine," I shake my head again, this time to force back a potential meltdown that I did not want to have in front of the good doctor. He'd been so kind to my grandmother that I didn't want him to feel obligated that he had to be kind to me as well. " I would like you to walk me inside, if you could-"
His hand rested on mine now, a smile resting on me. Gram must've loved that smile. " She was strong in the end. Spoke about you and your mother in length. Are you sure you don't want to-"
I open the car door and step out into the rain. It rained a lot in Forks. The rain felt right today. It fell with a vengeance, but I didn't mind. It echoed the pain and fury holding me captive, forcing my body to respond with something other than tears. It felt good, therapeutic almost to just stand there staring up at the home that I now inherited.
A reassuring hand rested on her arm, as if waiting permission to lead me inside. Carlisle kept still. " I am sorry about Ellena. It was so sudden, no one saw it coming," Tears mixed with the rain as they fell upon flesh, spurred forth by the guilt of not returning a stupid little phone call.
Somehow I responded calmly. " I know, and she's in a better place than the rest of us," Leading the way up to the steps, I dug around in the coat pocket for a set of keys, finding the bulky cluster at the bottom of the deep pocket, and pressed the key into the lock. Pushing open the front door, I watched it swing wide open to reveal a long hallway that lead to the kitchen and dining room. A living room and office/library were on the immediate left and right. Everything smelled fresh, as if it'd been freshly cleaned and vacuumed. Had it been freshly cleaned?
We entered together, arms interlocked, into the tomb of a home. Everything was in the same place it'd been when she moved from the house to the hospital. Shriveled flowers, once alive, leaned off to the side in a clear vase on a small stand next to the shoe rack and coat hooks on the wall. Carlisle kept his silence but I could not. " I want to thank you….for being a good man. Not only to my grandmother,-" Looking into his eyes, I found myself admiring his countenance. " But for also being the good doctor you are. The people of Forks don't understand how hard it must be for your kind to coexist so peacefully among the humans,"
He didn't even blink. " Pardon?"
" Well, I'm sure Gram told you all about our illustrious family line, and if you weren't enlightened about her knowledge of plants, gems, and rocks and their connection to life and magic, then you have been simply misinformed of what she was. But even you know that there are things to go bump in the night that aren't vampires, shapeshifters, or stupid criminals," It felt good to be snappy and bitter, pushed away the sadness for a later moment to wallow in. " We are witches, Mr. Cullen, and because of that, we also know when we are near other supernatural. You exhibit all the signs of a vampirism, although that does not make you inherently evil,"
He closed the door at a human speed, to which I credited him great patience and control. For a moment I thought he would attack me, but instead, he nodded. " We may have discussed such a topic," He permitted.
I slipped my wet running shoes off onto the rack. I was honestly too tired to think of rearranging anything. " Then you know that I do not care what you are or what your family is. I just lost my grandmother and the town is badgering me. I don't need an extra room, but I am a good friend to have if you need help. Right now I don't need anything but privacy, a bed to curl up in, and something to drown out the sobbing," It was the truth, a painful one. " Thank you for seeing me home…You know where I'll be if you need me,"
I didn't bother saying goodnight as I walked up the stairs off to the right and up to the bedrooms. My grandmother kept two bedrooms, using the third bedroom as a closet/storage room for everything that didn't have a proper place elsewhere in the house. Dropping on the guest room bed, I finally let the tears fall, never minding that I was still in damp clothes or that I just left a vampire alone in the house. Grabbing the pillow, I covered my head and allowed myself to fall in the grateful sleep.
As Carlisle related how his visit with Allison Bishop progressed, Esme and Alice listened. Emmett and Rosalie were out hunting, and Edward plucked away at the piano, composing a piece lacking inspiration. The constant starting and stopping definitely proved that he did not favor the current composition. " We have another Witch in forks," He summed up. " Alice, have you seen anything-"
" She's going to be in a car crash and severely hurt," Alice answered him. " A drunk driver….I think,"
Esme nodded as she busied herself with cleaning the kitchen for no other purpose than to appear human. It was a practice that helped them blend in easier. " We can not interfere in what is meant to happen, the poor thing. To lose a grandmother and then to possibly be in a car crash…it almost doesn't seem fair," The mother turned to her adoptive daughter and struggled with the desire to help.
Alice stared at her pretty pink nail polish, taking a seat on a stool. She suffered through her visions, some were pleasant, others were dark, and often enough they were incomplete. It would shift as people changed their course of actions. She loathed the incomplete visions, wanting to see a vision to its end, if only for closure. They hurtled through life as a coven, never able to consistently live out their lives in one place for too long. When they moved from one place to another, there was always closure. Jasper suffered worse with his inability to control his thirst entirely, and only time could cure Jasper's pain and suffering. In comparison to Jasper, she could never really say she suffered as he did.
" She offered her aid to us should we ask for it," Carlisle said.
" Her grandmother offered help to the locals before, often without being asked," Esme echoed, recalling her general acquaintance with the deceased woman. " I doubt that there is actual magic,"
" Why would magic not exist? We do," Alice argued.
One could argue that vampirism was a naturally occurring genetic fault that was able to be passed along like a communicable disease or infection, incurable except by death. If Alice were to stand on that point with Esme, then magic could not be real. The very definition of magic supported the supernatural but as Esme required solid proof, it did not define magic as a substantial, quantifiable source. She could argue that magic, therefore, was a byproduct of the environment's actions upon a person and the superstitious beliefs that lead people to believe even if substantive proof did not exist. That argument was widely supported by people's beliefs in gods and deities of great abilities.
" Magic is not real. It can not affect you if you do not believe in it," Esme met her argument, unwilling to budge. " If the power is real, then I have not seen it so blatant,"
" Why does it need to be blatant to be real?"
" We are real. Magic is something people cling to when no other explanation is offered,"
Carlisle stood at the end of the island, between the two women. He lived with both long enough to know that Esme required proof whereas Alice trusted in her visions and believed in the existence of magic. He understood the need for proof as a doctor, and as an ER doctor, he prepared himself to be seeing Allison Bishop in his ER someday. " I have, in ways that there is no quantifiable evidence. The nurses lived better lives after meeting her. They smiled more, they laughed more. Whether that is because of the magic or simply the woman, does it matter?" He looked between the women.
Alice shrugged. " I know what I see, and that is always subject to change," She hid her annoyance with a soft smile, if only to appease the neutral party.
" I still believe that the woman was nothing more than an inspiring kind woman who had kind words to share," Esme also smiled at Carlisle. " I know you liked her, but she wasn't a witch. She's just a spiritual healer,"
Leaving Carlisle and Esme to argue about it, Alice skipped off to Edward's side to listen to him compose and play the piano, at least for the moment.