Sunday, October 15th:
Edward POV:
I waited, my fingers tapping impatiently against the cold wood of the desk. It was clients like these that bothered me the most, the ones that claimed time of mine—something that could never be given back—and wasted it on their "precious" excuses. This client was supposed to be someone who was feared, someone who had the most power of all the others—yet they, just like all my other clients, were late. I eventually got up, beginning to pace around the small room. The clocked read 11:46. I had to be out of here in fourteen minutes, either with or without the new job, or I risked someone getting involved in something they couldn't get out of. I'd pity them if I needed to kill them—the maid, or even a concierge bringing up the luggage of the actual person this room belonged to for the week. I didn't care at this point, I could easily get another job that paid just as much and that poor maid or concierge would just join a very long list of kills.
But I wanted this job. That was why I couldn't possibly leave. I wanted this job and I would gladly kill a concierge or a maid if I needed to.
The words slipped into my head easily and I hadn't been able to rid myself of them in weeks. I wanted this job, or rather I needed this job. Not for the money or the fame, but for the thrill and excitement of working for such a dangerous woman.
Her name was Jane Volturi, daughter of Aro Volturi—a man just as dangerous. She made her name by working against all of those who worked for organized crime. She committed the same crime in a more fashionable manner. She made it her mission to allow no one to create a crime scene unless her name was on a contract and she was getting a cut, and she succeeded. Every couple of days she was meeting with an assassin to dispose of criminals she no longer felt were loyal to her. Assassins kissed the roads she walked on, begging to have jobs by her. They knew the risks; if they screwed up in the slightest bit, they were dead. But they took the jobs anyway, because if they succeeded it meant fame and money. Assassins who got jobs by her were the best and that made them wanted by others, which in the end meant more fame and money. And bragging points. Criminals of organized crime feared and hated Jane Volturi more than anything, but they submitted knowing if they didn't they were as good as dead. She was dangerous and feared, submitting only to her father.
Her father, Aro, hardly ever came out of his shell of a castle unless he was desperately needed. This only ever occurred when Jane couldn't handle a job, which has never happened.
I never cared much about her, I was content with the jobs I had—criminals that had no name but had money to give.
I took their money, did the job, and I never worried that they would come for me because they had no name and no expectations to live up to by others. They never needed to prove themselves, so they never cared about those who may not be as loyal to them as before. Most of those jobs were just out of greed rather than a lack of loyalty.
There were stages of criminals that assassins had, I took pride in doing the jobs for the lowest criminals that no other assassin enjoyed doing. It was an easy job and I took my time, hunted my prey—I enjoyed the slow, calm hunt with the excitement of the end. This job would be nothing like those, it was thrilling from the moment I received a note from Jane Volturi telling me to come to this hotel at an exact time to receive a job. It would be thrilling until the moment the job was done. My only fear was not that I would be unable to complete the job, but that when I returned to my old jobs they would be boring and I would continue to seek exhilarating and dangerous jobs.
Right now, however, this job was no more exciting than it was an inconvenience.
I sighed, pacing around some more before settling back in the chair at the desk. I continued to pound my fingers against the wood, watching the seconds tick by on the clock.
9:54. Annoyance bubbled through me.
I was in the midst of deciding how much longer to wait for my late appointment when there was two brisk knocks on the door. I jumped up, checking in the peak hole quickly before deciding that the person behind the door was a guard of Jane's and then I opened the door.
"Edward Cullen."
"Yes." my answer was harsh, as it usually was.
"Lose the attitude, Jane'll kill you herself." he pushed through me, walking in followed by two other guards and than a short, blonde haired girl known and feared as Jane Volturi.
"I won't apologize for the delay," Jane's voice was high pitched and childish. She was only a child—about 3 years younger than me at 18. She looked like a child too, she must have been at least a foot and a half shorter than I was. "I'm sure you are eagerly waiting to know what it is I called you for."
"I was hoping you would give an explanation for your tardiness, even if it was is a lie." I retort, crossing my arms. "My time is valuable."
Jane laughs loudly. "More valuable than the job I have?" she sighs contently, "I wish that some knew just what kind of opportunity I was offering them."
"Then let's stop wasting my time—what is the job?" curiosity got the better of me.
"I work on my own time, Cullen." Jane's voice was light, but I was pissing her off and I knew it. "I'm sure you get that," Jane gestured to the clock, reminding me of her tardiness.
"Yes, we all know that. Word spreads fast in the assassin community. I could have gotten two jobs that paid just as much as you in the time it's taken you to enter this room. So please, out with it before I decide you are no longer worth it."
"Hmm, impatience. How. . ." she pauses, thinking with her finger lightly to her chin, "worthy—I suppose that's a good word—of an assassin are you if you spell impatience?"
"You should know. You called me out here. I assume you do your research, though it's any wonder why you picked me out of all people."
"Yes, I did do my research. This job is rather close to home for me." Jane says merrily, tapping her chin lightly with her index finger. "I wanted someone that nobody would miss. . .Have it go wrong." She throws me a light smile, turning and walking the distance of the room. "I'm sure you understand that."
It bothered me how lightly Jane spoke of my assassination. But I knew I should expect this. A warning from Jane is the most she ever does before she kills you. I should be almost grateful that she gave me this one chance, though I hardly was. If anything, I was beginning to regret that I ever agreed to this job.
My mind began to wonder as Jane remained silent, had there every been a person to refuse Jane? If there had, the person must not have lived long to tell the tale of their almost-famous assassination mission. Perhaps, it was a punishment—rather than an accomplishment—to be picked by Jane. Once she set her eyes on you, she never took them off.
"Yes, no one will miss me. Now, let's talk about the job." I was suddenly desperate to be away from Jane, her powerful eyes glared at mine. I was never one to feel intimidated, or even scared, but here I was wishing that Jane would simply leave without ever telling me the mission.
"Patience, Edward." Jane soothes. "I don't want to have to kill you before you screw everything up."
"Now why would you do that?" I question sourly.
Jane laughs brightly. "Oh, Edward. You are quite naive. This job is close to home for me, I don't need anyone knowing that until it is resolved. In the likely event that you do either walk away without agreeing to what I have to offer or you agree and then commit a heinous mistake, you should be warned that your fate is set. I have a very large list of assasins that are highly sought out and overall better than you. Consider this a test from me, of your worthiness and your skill. I don't doubt that any one of my contacts could properly dispose of this. . ." Jane paused, searching for a word. "person. . ." she spit the word out like it tasted vile, "however, I did want to see what you have to offer."
"Why?"
"You spend too much of your time in the dumps. You serve the pathetic, which in turn makes you pathetic. Someone of your skill should not be pathetic. Consider me your savior."
"Hardly." I chuckle darkly.
Jane glares at me coldly, her blue eyes narrowed. "Savior or not, you're here which means you want it."
"I like change every now and then." I say, attempting to make my voice light and nonchalant.
"Yes, I did notice that." Jane tells me, thinking deeply for a moment. "Your history is quite extensive, a very good read as well." she sighs again, smiling. "Enough about you, we've been wasting time."
One of Jane's body guards pulls a yellow manila envelope from his suit.
"Her name is Isabella Swan. You don't need to know anything about what she did or who she is. She lives in this general area, and that's all the information I will give. You can understand why I picked you, considering you are quite knowledgeable about Washington. You have one week, no time more than that." Jane tells me, crossing her arms over her chest.
I take the envelope from Jane, pulling out a single picture of this girl. She was young, with thick brown hair and large brown eyes. "I'll have it done." I say, dropping the picture back into the envelope.
"Good, I expect results, Cullen. I do not give anything if there results are less than what I want. In fact, I'll take quite a bit if they lack. Understood?"
"Yes."
"I will do the honors of checking you out of the hotel. It should take you some time to track down the girl."
I nod, grabbing my jacket from where it lay on the bed.
"Oh, one more thing." Jane says, a light laugh bubbling from her lips. "Normally the type of work you and I do requires obscurity, but for this particular task I would like if you let the results be transparent."
I stare, gaping at Jane. "You want..." I pause, not able to form the words on my tongue. "me to leave her body out?" Never had anyone ever asked that of me, or any other killer I'd known. "For everyone to see?"
"Yes." Jane says, nodding. "Let's consider it a fair warning to all others. Conceal your identity though, we wouldn't want the police to catch our best assassin. But let the girl's be shown."
I didn't move, completely confused by the stupidity of Jane's request.
She must have known I considered her to be a fool in this situation, because she offered me a smug smile. "Consider it an unsolved crime, Edward." she chuckles under her breath. "One that everyone who knows me knows who the culprit is, but no one will speak because they know me. And no one who knows me will know not of who the culprit is, though they will do much to speak because they're in the dark. It's a beautiful circle of inability."
"Perhaps." I mutter, swallowing hard. I repeat Jane's words in my head, a beautiful circle of inability. Truly, with Jane here, we were all stuck. For her, it was the beauty of power. She regulated every action, every thought, every motive. Chaos would ensue if she was killed, and perhaps that is why she has succeeded. We all knew that we needed her just as much as we feared her.
"I trust you have skills to make it an unsolved crime," Jane sighs, smiling. "Use them well. I wouldn't want you to go to jail at such a young age." Jane clicks her tongue, shaking her head. "Just twenty-one, such a young age."
I was almost creepy hearing Jane talk about me as if she was must older. Certainly she was more powerful than I, but I had the upper hand on age. As I always would.
"I await your good news, Mr. Cullen." Jane tells me, lifting her head to meet my stern gaze. I don't respond, instead I leave the room.
I walk quickly from the hotel, attempting to direct my thoughts from the odd behavior of Jane to the new job I had. It wasn't all like in the movies—go back to my secret house, load the picture onto a sophisticated computer and then use various programs to find the location of this girl within minutes. No, I only had the name and a picture and a computer with an untraceable address that I bought overpriced from a dealer in downtown Seattle. I would do it the old-fashioned way, just the way I liked to do this. Only now, anxiety was settling over me as I realized I had a deadline. A very close deadline. I had seven days to track this girl down and dispose of her, and let the entire world see my work without seeing that I had done it.
I didn't take my time getting to my house, I had much less time than what was expected. Once inside, I did what I always do—I grab my laptop and typed in the victim's name.
Not much came up, just some links that were associated with a small town called Forks. None of them contained the girl's first name, just her last name.
Is it a relative or just a coincidence? I thought. Swan is a relatively common name—or rather, not an entirely unique name and it is bound to have dozens of families named just that. Though, it made me wonder if Jane had selected me because of my close proximity to Forks.
I click on the first link and then the second and third. Everything was about a man named Charles Swan, who happened to be the police chief in Forks. I eventually gave up my search, deciding I would just go to Forks to figure it out. I close my laptop, grabbing my jacket from where I'd thrown it on the couch and left my apartment.
I hated Forks with passion. It was close enough to where my family, who had once been close, fell apart that I resented the place. I left my family in Port Angeles when I was eighteen and never turned back, only now I was somewhat turning back. I had only been to Port Angeles on one other occasion, when my little sister, Alice, graduated to high school. I waited at the back of the gym long enough for her to hug me, for me to tell her I was proud of her and to do well in high school before I escaped my parents' glares. I had another brother, Emmett, he was four years older than me and moved out while on good grounds with my parents. Last I knew, he lived in New York with his wife, Rosalie, and their son, Henry.
I turned on my radio as I drove, not really caring what was playing. I just needed something to distract myself. I only needed to stay in Forks long enough to figure out who Isabella Swan was and where she was. If she was there, my job would be completed within hours. That would please Jane.
The hours passed tortuously slowly and I was left with nothing to do but listen to my thoughts. It wasn't hard, honestly. I never felt guilty for the people I murdered, they deserved it. Every victim was part of some crime and their death was mercy on the world. Jane hardly ever killed anyone who wasn't important—her only victims were those who threatened her power and name. What had Isabella Swan, an innocent looking child, done that would cause Jane to unleash her wrath?
I was never my business what my victim's crime was, but I never could help but wonder. Occasionally, it would be part of the payment of my employer to tell me and ease my curiosity. I knew that this would not be the case for Jane; Jane Volturi was never merciful. It was just a few hours past lunch by the time I made it to Forks. There was no easy way to do this. It would be suspicious of me, much less stupid and reckless, to go bang on the door of Charles Swan and hold up a picture of a girl he may or may not be related to before I begin viciously interrogating him. Not to mention, he is a chief. If anyone walked up to him holding a picture, it was likely they would end up in a jail cell on multiple charges.
The less suspicious way to do it was to stop at a common place, act like a common person, and ask questions in a very common way. I remembered Forks well enough from my run-away attempts as a teenager to know that the diner on Main Street was the most common hang-out in town. I turned into the lot, parking my conspicuous car in a corner and entering the diner.
The counter is where I would be able to talk to people the most, so I settle down in a relatively middle seat, picking up a menu. The dinner was mostly filled with teenagers—it was a weekend and this diner was one of the few places they could hang out at. None of them resembled Isabella Swan. I suddenly wanted to laugh at myself. Why would someone who bothered Jane Volturi hang out in a small town diner with a group of loud, obnoxious teenagers? Surely Isabella Swan was smarter than that!
A young waitress comes up to me from the other side of the bar, a notepad and pen in hand. She greets me with a smile, "Hello there! Are you from out of town? I haven't seen you around."
"Yeah, I'm from Oregon." I say, quickly scanning the menu that was taped to the bar. "What would you say is the best thing here?" people skills, it's part of being an assassin. I learned this with my first few jobs, I had to get the other person comfortable by seeming overly friendly before they would accidentally drop me information.
"Well, I'd say the apple pie. But everything else thinks that the cobbler is fantastic!" the young waitress, Heidi, said very enthusiastically.
"I'll get a slice of both, then." I tell her, smiling.
"Sure thing!" Heidi skips away to the kitchen, grabbing the pieces of pie.
While Heidi was away, I busied myself by attempting to listen in on the loud, conversation of the teenagers. It sounded like they were discussing a gang in the next town over. I knew them, down at the Reservation all the boys were part of 'the Pack'. It was stupid, just another way to over-dramatize the cliques that formed overtime. There was no mention of Isabella Swan.
Sighing, I turned back to the counter to wait for my food and Heidi. It took a few minutes, but Heidi did return with my pie.
"So, where are you from in Oregon?"
"Salem, I'm a big city person." I answer smoothly, a rehearsed line. The details of my wonderful fake life were all rehearsed. My name was Micheal Owen, I was twenty-four years old. I had a wonderful girlfriend, her name was Lindsey and we lived in Salem together. She was born in New York and moved to Oregon for college, I lived in Oregon my entire life. We met through some friends of ours and we had been dating since college. I worked in software and I enjoyed visiting small towns to see the different culture. Most of the story was stupid, but everyone liked to believe what they heard so I never had a problem. I'd rehearsed my story so many times that I honestly felt like Micheal Owen. Occasionally, I would change my name so that I could prevent being tracked down. Lindsey Haybrook, my girlfriend, would change names too, and sometimes she would be born in Texas or Michigan.
I'd learned relatively quickly that most people didn't care about the big picture, they wanted juicy details and a good story. So that's what I gave them, to please them and to get myself what I needed. There was always a chance the person wouldn't take and give me what I needed, but that was the beauty of being an assassin. You had to work for information, you had to dance around and ask people without raising suspicious, you had to do your research and always catch the details that gave away the victim. Most victims hid, which made my work fun. It was the adrenaline of hunting down a person. Kill or be killed, that was what was often said in organized crime. I chose to kill, which meant the exhilaration of everything that came with it.
To be hunted was to have the same adrenaline, but out of fear. You also always knew you would be caught. Assassins are good, as they should be. If one assassins fails, the next will gladly step up in place to prove their worth. Assassins may fail, but the victim always is dealt with.
"It's a wonder why you are in Forks!" Heidi says excitedly. "You know, the last time we had a visitor from out of state was ages ago. When I was in eighth grade though, the Chief's daughter moved here. But she's gone now."
There we go, something worth my time. I take a bite of the pie, seeming nonchalant and only slightly interested in her being here.
"Small towns weren't her thing?"
"Oh no! No, no, it wasn't that." Heidi waves her hands, dismissing what I said. "She's living in Seattle now, attending Seattle University. You know, she is one of the few that ever left here. Most of the teenagers just hang out here and go to community colleges. She was smart to leave."
That didn't quite help me.
"Is this town like the ones in the movies? Is there some secret I should be worried about?"
Heidi laughs loudly, attracting the attention of other customers. "Oh no, none of that here. We're just a boring ass town."
"Ah,"
"But, I mean, she is lucky. Most people don't leave small towns, especially not in this town. Chief got divorced cause his wife didn't like it here, but he stayed. Renee moved to Arizona, she took Bella with her—but Bella came back here."
"Bella?" Disappointment coursed through me as I realized I hadn't figured out the major piece of this puzzle. If I had, it would've been record time. The fastest I'd ever found my victim was twenty-eight hours after I'd received all the information. If this was the girl and she was in Seattle, it would take me less than twenty-hours to get to her. Forcing myself to not seem disappointed for the sake of the girl before me, I continued on with a thought as if it was the only one of his mind. "What an interesting name."
"Yup, not much of those around here. She was an attention hog, honestly. All the boys were after her, but she kept rejecting them. It's a pity, really. She had so much potential here. Squeaky clean record, thanks to her being the Chief's daughter and all. But all the boys were after her, even through she was the Chief's daughter so there really was something about her. None of the other girls could figure it out, she never hung out with anyone."
I almost roll my eyes at the obvious jealousy covering this girl, Heidi. Clearly she didn't like Bella, and clearly Bella didn't appear to my victim. If she was involved in organized crime, boys wouldn't be chasing her and girls wouldn't be jealous. I finished my pie, smiling at Heidi.
There was no reason for me to be here anymore. "I'm not sure I can decide which one is better, they're both fantastical."
Heidi giggles. "I'm glad you enjoyed them." she picks up my plate.
"How much will it be?" I ask her, pulling my wallet out of my pocket.
She waves her hand, shaking her hand. "Oh, don't worry about it! It's on the house."
I smile, part of the act again. Honestly, this girl was annoying me a bit. "Thank you, you're very kind." I pull out a ten dollar bill, handing it to her. "A tip," I explain. "you have wonderful service here."
Heidi looks shocked, and she fails miserably as she attempts to cover it up. "Thank you." she stampers, taking the money.
I get off the bar stool, waving a goodbye as I stride out of the diner. It was pouring outside, naturally. This was Washington, after all. Outside, a group of guys—high schoolers, at most college students—were huddled together, talking and goofing off. I ignored them for the most part, pushing past to get to my car.
Just to be sure, I listened to what they were shrieking wildly about as I passed.
Nothing. I continued to my car at a faster pace to get out of the drenching rain. There was nothing here. Simply a girl and a father whose names were in common with the girl I was hunting. I get into my car, driving twenty-miles above the speed limit to rid myself of the small-town stench. I had gotten nothing from this trip, several hours wasted and time spent eating two disgusting pieces of pie.
I drive home, mostly in a fit of anger. Normally, I didn't get angry at a dead end. It was part of the job. But this job was different. This was the job. No other job would be this exhilaration or dangerous. That's what I wanted, I wanted adrenaline from the moment it started to the moment it ended. I wanted it to be the movie-type assassination job. Where the only dead end I hit was solved only moments later, that's what I craved. But knowing that this fantasy was just that—a fantasy—put me in an even deeper rage than before.
I gripped the steering wheel too tightly and pushed the car faster, ignoring the speed limits and the threat of small-town cops. I weave in and out of the little traffic on the road, making my way back to Seattle three times as fast as when I left.
When I make it out of Forks' limits, I turn on my radio and slow my speed just a bit. My parents never taught me to drive, I left before they could. But if they saw me now—speeding, reckless driving, enraged—they would be just as disappointed as they were before. As they always have been. I push the thought out of my head, the thought of my parents and my siblings. I didn't need to involve them in anything, much less my life. I don't intend to make things right with my family, I don't regret anything.
Nothing, except my kid sister, Alice. She suffers the most. Alice and I were always close growing up, but when I split and slipped off the rails in ninth grade, I lost Alice.
She always hoped the old Edward was still somewhat present, so she made it her mission to give me the time and patience no one else gave me. She dealt with me, she forgave me, she always let me rely on her even when I never returned the favors. The fact that she was always there, no complaining or doubt in her subtle confidence intimidated me.
I was fourteen when that old Edward disappeared. Drugs, adrenaline, and killing a boy was what made me who I was. Alice never believe that it was permanent, she thought it was a facade, a non-reality. She was ignorant, optimistic, naive, and very, very gullible, but I regretted leaving her.
Suddenly, in a snap decision, I turned my car completely around. I wasn't going to Seattle today. No, I was going back to Port Angeles.
I did my best to ignore the anger that bit through my veins as I sped to my old house. I worked through mountains of curses before I logically stated that Isabella Swan should be an easy target. No sane, intelligent person would ever piss of Jane Volturi. Isabella was insane, unintelligent, and quite frankly, a girl! She had a tiny figure, one that would be no help in combat. Her doe eyes were innocent enough, so either she wasn't in the crime organization or she just sucked at being a criminal. I wasn't a girl-hating kind of man, in fact most of my friends were girls. Women, who had been raised in boarder-line evil ways so that they became fierce, but this Isabella was not fierce. Jane Volturi was fierce. Isabella Swan was helpless. She was pathetic.
I tossed the picture of Isabella from my jacket pocket onto the seat besides me; I was done with her for now.
I turned the music louder, pushing my car to Port Angeles.
I made it there in ninety minutes.
I let my car sit outside the house for a few minutes, taking it all in. Mom obviously hadn't lost her touch for gardening, there was planted flowers spread all around the front yard and potted plants lining the front stairs. The porch held larger pots with bushes and trees that weren't big enough to put into the ground yet.
The house looked normal, it looked like it did when I lived in it. It was painted white with darker trimming, the porch was perfectly clean and in order. The couch swing on the far right was new, but that was the only difference.
With a small sigh, I let myself out into the pouring rain, jogging to the front door where I'd be at the mercy of the extended roof.
I rang the doorbell hoping that Alice would be the one to answer it. Maybe I would get off without having to see my parent's glaring eyes today. But today had already proven that it wasn't my lucky day.
Of all the people who could have opened the door, it was my father. The one I wanted to see least. I bit back a sigh when he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, a frown on his face.
"What do you want?" his tone was familiar to me, full of anger and disappointment.
"Alice." I respond. "I just need to talk to her."
"You're not going anywhere near her." I almost flinch at the tone he used.
"She's my sister," I insist, stepping into the house. Dad steps in front of me, blocking my entry into the house, his expression a stone of hatred.
"Get out." He hisses.
"Dad," despite not seeing Alice in years, I immediately recognized her soft, angelic voice. "who is that?"
"I'll be waiting in the car for her." I tell my father, turning and leaving. I could feel his glare on my back, but I was more relieved to not have to look at it. I was a coward for that.
Once in the car, I could only see the blurred images of my father and sister through the rain. Even then, it was clear that they were arguing and even more clear that Alice was winning.
My parents never could say no to their little girl, even I couldn't. We all loved her too much. It only took a minute for her to run and grab her coat before she was running through the rain to my car. I started the car, turning on the heater for Ali when she got in.
"You're back." were her first words, her big eyes staring at me questioningly.
I don't respond, I stare straight ahead.
"What's wrong, Edward? You look worried."
"Just work." I mutter, "How are you?"
"I'm fine." her voice was soft, I almost couldn't hear her voice surrounded by the pattering rain and the breathing of the car heater.
"Okay."
We are silent for a few moments, both statues until Alice bends down and pickes up the picture of Isabella Swan that had slipped to the floor in front of the passenger seat. "Who is this?"
"No one."
"She's pretty." Alice tells me.
"So are you." I take the picture from her, stuffing it into the compartment of my door. "You don't need to worry about that girl."
"Did she do something bad?"
"I don't know."
"When did you meet her?"
"Haven't yet." I respond quietly.
Alice sighs, leaning back against her seat. She looked so much older than before when she was 14. She is sixteen now, and her face had clearly matured. Her crow black hair was chopped short to her chin, in layers and her face was rounder. She was staring at me now, her eyes just as bright green as before. Everyone always told our parents that the only proof we were siblings were our eyes, both bright green. I inherited all my looks from Esme's side of the family and Alice was just the oddball. Carlisle claimed she got her black hair from his grandmother, but we could never be sure.
"Mom and Dad are worried."
"They'll get over it." I snap, turning away from Alice. "I don't want to talk about them."
"Okay," Alice says, nodding. "let's talk about you. What's going on?"
"I fucked up." I admit. It was only now that I realized this, that I truly had fucked up. "I'm in a bad place, no way out."
"Are you dealing?" Alice asks softly. She wasn't judging me, she wasn't even angry. Her voice was just as soft as always, caring and kind. That's what Alice was made out of. She never judged me or hated me, even when I left her.
"Yeah, let's put it that way." I chuckle humorlessly. I'm dealing out death.
"It's a cycle, you always say it's the last time but it never is." Alice tells me, biting her lip. She was always the wiser one of the two of us.
"I know."
"Good." She only needed to know that I knew the risks, she was smart in a way that no one else was. She knew me to the point that she knew I would only change my mind if I wanted to. "I don't want to lose you again, Edward. I can't handle this," she touches my arm softly. "where you come and go and we see each other sometimes. But I won't be able to handle it if you're dead because that's coming, I know it is."
"I'm not going to die." I whisper, dread evident in my voice. No, I wouldn't die. Because I would kill others to protect my own life. I would kill poor Isabella Swan with her innocent eyes just like I've killed so many before her.
"I'm not eleven anymore." Alice tells me, turning completely in her seat to face me. "You got lucky once, and you are still getting off on that luck. But you won't always be that lucky. You're going to die and I need to know you before you get yourself killed."
"No, you don't need to, Alice. Then you'll have to mourn me when I die."
"I'm mourning you now, Edward." her voice was regretful. "You are dying, in a metaphorical sense. When you really die, I'll mourn you because I never knew you. My own brother I never knew."
"You know Emmett."
"Emmett doesn't come home that much." Alice sighs. "You know how Rosalie never really liked Dad."
"Yeah, I know."
"Get out of it, please. Whatever you are doing, get out of it. For me." Alice begs. "Let me get to know you, let me wake up every day and know that you are safe."
"Don't beg." I tell her suddenly, before I even knew what I was saying. I regretted the words quickly. It was something always said with the people I hung out with—other assassins, criminals, people I work for. Begging was a sign of weakness, of emotion. We didn't feel emotion, we felt money, we felt power. We only craved power.
"I will beg." Alice's voice was firm now. I knew how she got that angry look when she used that tone. "You are my brother, Edward Cullen. You better hope to hell that I'll beg for you, that I'll fight for you! Even if it's you I'm fighting with."
"I'm sorry." I mutter. Alice sighs, leaning back against the door. All evidence of her anger disappeared as quickly as it came.
"Let's go to the beach."
"It's pouring." I tell her, bewildered by her sudden order.
"When has rain stopped us from doing anything? Let's go, drive." Alice tells me, she puts her seat belt on.
I bite back a sigh, putting the car into drive. The beach was our favorite place, Alice and I would always go after school no matter what the weather was like. Today, we were apparently going when it was pouring.
We drive in silence, Alice probably thinking hard about what's bothering me. My mind was still on Isabella Swan, her doe eyes and the crime she committed.
It took me just a few minutes to get to the beach, and by the time I got there Alice looked more than eager to get out of the car.
She jumped out before I even turned the car off, pulling the hood of her jacket over her short hair. "Come on, let's go!"
I get out quietly, stuffing the keys into my pockets and following after my sister. She drags me to the edge of the beach, where the sand and water meet.
"Aren't you wet enough?" I question, as Alice begins pulling her boots and socks off. She sticks her tongue out.
"It's different with the ocean. It's salty, it's powerful." She steps in the water, a shiver slipping down her spin at the iciness of the waves.
"Power is overrated."
"The power you know is corrupt, Edward." Alice says. "This power, this is natural. This is beautiful."
"Besides that, you'll freeze."
"Maybe. But at least I can feel something." Alice tells me, her face somber. "It's worth dying if you can't feel emotion. I know you don't want to talk about it, Edward, but we need to. Mom and Dad are really suffering, as much as they won't admit it. You're their son and they are watching you destroy yourself."
"I haven't destroyed myself." I tell Alice, honestly. Or had I?
"They don't know that. I don't know that." Alice tells me, brushing some of her hair away from her face. "We don't even know where you live."
"Seattle. I have a nice apartment."
"I'm not allowed to visit you. I can only see you whenever you feel like dropping by."
She didn't say it, but she meant whenever I got up the nerve to face my parents. Guilt courses through me. This wasn't suppose to happen. She wasn't supposed to make me feel guilty. Alice was the understanding one in my family, the kind forgiver until fault. She was the one who let me get away with anything. She literally let me get away with murder.
"I can't take you there now." I tell her quietly. "Some other time."
"In two years when you come back from my graduation again?" Alice asks me, biting her lip.
"No, before that."
Alice nods. "We'll talk about it then, I don't want to talk about it now."
I walk a few strides over, settling down on a mossy rock. Alice follows me, still walking in the shallow depths of the water. "Maybe you can turn your feet blue then also."
Alice laughs. "It feels good. Try it."
I shake my head. "I'm not that insane yet."
"Yet." Alice giggles. "But you will be. You'll be so insane you won't know what to do with yourself, and then you'll dive into frozen water." her voice had an intense amount of confidence that I was envious for a moment, before I realized Alice was talking nonsense. She talked nonsense often, and it was often that you'd find her nonsense being right. I was very close to diving into the cold water.
"Tell me about your life. How is school going?"
Alice grins. "It's great! Tenth grade is really easy, I'm taking two eleventh grade classes and those are harder. I'm tutoring kids from fourth grade in reading at a school a little while from here. They're adorable, really."
"That's really good."
"I'm dating Jasper Hale, do you remember him? He is Rosalie's cousin."
"Yeah, I remember him." Jasper had an older brother, Matt, that was part of my group of friends briefly in ninth grade. I remembered Jasper as a good kid, and I doubted he was anything otherwise today.
"You know his parents died." Alice tells me. "In a car accident, three years ago."
I don't say anything, I just stare at the dark ocean. I didn't want to think about death.
"He's doing well with it, both of them are."
"That's good." the rain was slowing now, though it made no difference since Alice and I were dripping wet anyway. She steps out of the water, pulling her socks on over her wet feet.
"You're distracted." she tells me, smiling. "That's good. You're working through things."
"Or maybe I'm just trying not to let you get to me."
Alice smiles wider. "Then you're in denial because you know what I'm saying is right."
"Let's just go." I tell her, getting off the rock.
"You know, Mom and Dad probably aren't home now. Mom had a meeting with her book publisher today and Dad was going to go with her, something about getting dinner afterwards. They probably left by now." Alice tells me as we walk back to the car. "We can go home, change and maybe watch a movie or something."
"I don't know." I tell her. That house wasn't really my home anymore, and I didn't even want to see what they'd done to my room. Five years was long enough for them to change it and throw all my things away.
"Come on, it will be lots of fun. We haven't watched a movie together in years." Alice begs. "Please."
"Don't you have homework?"
"Yes, and I'll do it. Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow you have school, when you have to turn it all in."
"Relax Edward, two hours won't destroy my grades."
"Maybe not." I admit, still reluctant to go back to my house.
"They won't be there, I promise. We'll just stay in the basement, we don't have to even go upstairs. One tiny, short movie?"
"Fine." I chuckle, shaking my head. "Let's go."
Alice grins, jumping into the car. I blast the heat once we got in, remembering that moments ago both of us were shivering in the rain. The drive back home was longer, mostly as I struggled to not panic over stepping into their house for the first time in five years. Once we got there, Alice squeezed me hand, quietly reassuring me that I'd be fine.
The house was dark when we enter, though that's how I always remembered it. I'd sneak into the house late at night more times than I'd come home during the day, one of the many reasons I left. I couldn't handle being reprimanded every morning by my parents because of my habits. The family room was completely re-arranged, there were new sofas and a bigger TV. A few picture frames had changed, I noted, as Alice led me through the house.
"We can get some new clothes, grab some snacks, and go downstairs." Alice tells me, already hopping up the first few stairs. I follow after her, realizing that all the pictures that remind up were of Alice. Alice said nothing about the missing pictures of me, and I tried not to let it get to me.
I'd done this to myself, I think, now I have to face the consequences.
"I'm sure you remember where you room is." Alice smirks as we reach the top of the steps. I remembered, but I didn't even think that my room was still there.
"It's still there?"
Alice offers me a small smile. "We still hope you'll come back."
Alice slips into her room, which had been the office when I lived in this house, and I ventured farther down the hall to where my room had been before. I slowly opened the door, almost scared to look inside.
My furniture was where it was supposed to be. My bed in the center, my dresser on the far right wall, and my desk against the back wall. Everything was cleaned nicely, there was no dirty laundry on the floor—Mom had probably cleaned it up before she realized I was never coming back.
I swallow hard, going straight to my dresser and grabbing a stack of clothes quickly. I look only at the floor as I change, refusing to look at the neatly made bed, the clean stacks of notebooks, papers, and textbooks on my desk, and the organized novels on my side table. When I got downstairs, I found Alice already rummaging through the cabinets in under the TV.
"I don't know what you're into..." She frowns,
"I'll watch whatever you want."
Alice smiles, grabbing a movie quickly and dashing into the kitchen and returning moments later with bags of pre-made popcorn, chips, and cookies. Two cans of soda was tucked under her arm, along with the movie.
We walked together downstairs after I'd taken my share of the snacks. Alice set the movie up quickly after she realized that I didn't know how to work the new TV they purchased.
"You might enjoy this one." Alice tells me, settling down besides me.
The movie was something I might have enjoyed—several years ago. Now, my thoughts were clouded by Isabella and Jane. Every now and then, I would come back to reality when Alice chuckled besides me at the jokes in the movie, and I would follow her example and give a quiet laugh.
The movie took its time ending, and when the screen finally turned black Alice stood up. I sat up, realizing how stiff my back was from not moving for two hours.
"You were very quiet." Alice tells me, popping the CD back into its case.
"I have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Alice smiles, tossing the case onto the couch. She picks up her empty can of soda and my unopened can, "I'll just take these upstairs and then we can talk or something."
"I think I should go, actually." I mutter, staring at the floor. The hours were ticking by and I need to make some progress on my assignment.
"No." Alice whispers, her face paling. "Please, Edward, don't go yet!"
"Ali, I've already been here for hours."
"Compared to the number of years you were gone."
"I'm sorry, I've got work." I stand, helping Alice pick up the snacks.
"They don't give you much time off."
"No, they don't." I agree. "I'm looking into a new job." the words slip out of my mouth before I even realize what I've said.
Alice's eyes perk up a bit. "That's great! Maybe you can look into this area."
"Maybe." I mutter. We both knew it was very unlikely.
Alice and I walk upstairs, our arms full of the snacks we hardly touched. I drop them on the counter in the kitchen, like she does, and we both exit the kitchen with the promise of putting them away later.
"I wish you would stay longer." Alice tells me, hugging my arm. "It's been so long."
"I'll come pick you up next Sunday." I tell Alice, wrapping my arm around her tiny frame. "You can spend a few days at my house and then I'll drive you back."
"Really?" Alice gasps.
"Yup." By next Sunday, I'll either be dead because of Jane or I'll be alive with a day off of work. I won't get another assignment until Alice leaves. It's enough for both of us—Alice gets a promise of seeing me again (even if I may not be alive by then), and I get some more motivation to stay alive.
"It's going to be so much fun!" Alice jumps up, grinning.
"Mhmm."
"Oh!" Alice's smile falters a bit, "School."
"A couple of days missed won't kill you." I joke, ruffling her hair. "I really have to go now, but I'll see you soon."
"Alright." Alice smiles, she still hugs my arm as we walk to the front door. It was pouring outside, harder than before. "Maybe you should wait until the rain gets better."
"Nah, I'll be fine." I tell her. "Come here." I grab Alice in a tight hug, kissing her forehead. "I love you."
"I love you too, Edward. Stay safe, alright?"
I smile, nodding. "And you stay out of trouble. Let Mom and Dad get one good kid."
"You're amazing, you just got a little sidetracked." Alice murmurs.
"I'll see you in a bit." I squeeze Alice one more time before letting her go and stepping out of the house.
"Bye Edward, I'll see you next Sunday." Alice tells me.
Just as I was about to walk to my car, I swing around to face Alice. "Have you heard of a girl named Isabella Swan?"
"What?" Alice questions, raising an eyebrow at me in confusion.
"It's a very long story, but someone at work knows her and was looking for her. They're friends, but she hasn't been able to reach her lately. She told me that Isabella lives somewhere around here, or maybe it was closer to Forks. I can't remember." I babbled, trying to make an excuse for my sudden question.
Alice thinks for a moment. "I've heard the name before. I think someone in La Push knows her, one of the guys from that gang. I go there often with school, the beaches are gorgeous."
"Do you know his name, by any chance?"
"I can't remember if it was Jack or Jake. . ." Alice trails off, deep in thought. "But she is a young girl, younger than you. I can't imagine how someone from your work would know her."
"I don't know. I just told her I would look for Isabella."
"Who is her, exactly?" Alice questions.
"Her name is Jane." I was giving too much information, though I didn't exactly see how it would be any threat.
"Maybe you can ask Chief Swan."
"Who?" Could she possibly mean the chief of police in Forks? The person I had suspected first and very quickly dismissed?
"Charles Swan, he is the chief in Forks. He is Isabella's dad, I think. If we are talking about the same person, at least. His daughter goes by Bella. Dad has been down to Forks once or twice a couple of years ago to help with some cases that needed a medical consultant, I went with him once. Chief Swan talked about her a lot."
"Did you ever see her yourself?" I question.
"Nope." Alice shrugs. "Anyway, you can probably tell your friend Jane about that. I'm sure it'll help her."
"Yeah, it will help. Thanks Ali."
"No problem." she smiles, leaning against the doorway. "Drive safe, okay?"
I nod, walking off the porch and rushing to my car.
This was perfect. I knew who Isabella was and now I just needed to find her. From my conversation earlier today with Heidi, I was sure that Isabella would be Seattle at the university. But just to make sure, I drove straight back to Forks.
It was ridiculous what I was doing. I'd been driving for hours today and I used up more gas than I could even wrap my mind around, but I didn't care. I drove past the old diner that was now closed and quickly found the police station.
It was small with only a handful of squad cars parked in the front. I parked my own car, stepping out and heading into the building. I wasn't exactly sure what my plan was. How would I approach the Chief of police and question him about his daughter. It was stupid, at best. But I had no other plan and it seemed that talking to him, or even seeing him would do me some good. Maybe he had a picture of her in his office, or I walked in on him speaking about her to someone else. Or, the best situation of them all, Isabella Swan was there in person visiting her father to drop off dinner or something.
It was cold and damp inside. The offices were small and dingy and very few in number. There was an officer at the front desk, he looked up when I walked in. Isabella was not in the lobby, neither was the chief.
"Good evening," I greet. He nods his head in response.
"What can I do for ya?" he questions,
"I was wondering if I could talk to Chief Swan."
"What about?"
"It's rather. . . Personal." I finish lamely.
"Chief isn't in today." the deputy responds after a moment. He looks back down at his desk, dismissing me. I bite back the urge to threaten the deputy, knowing that would get me no where but jail and leave the office.
I sat in my car for a moment, trying to decide what to do. There really wasn't anything I could do. I would be crossing too many boarders if I went to his house to investigate. Of course that did make the most sense in this situation.
I was going off what other people said, I needed to do my own investigated. I needed to know for sure before I chased more leads that may be dead-ends. I needed to trust myself before others. If Charles Swan wasn't here then it was likely he was at home. But there was multiple other places he could be.
I sat in my car, watching the deputy inside. Maybe if he got up and went into the back I could get a good look around the station, maybe find some information about where Charles Swan lived or even proof that Isabella was connected here.
It took the deputy a long time to leave, and while he did that I spent time on my phone reading through random articles online. But eventually, the deputy did get up. I exited my car quickly, opening the door just enough for me to squeeze in before slowly closing it, and rushed behind the desk.
There was random sticky notes, crumbs, and papers around the desk. But the desktop was still logged on—though nothing on the screen helped me.
The last thing I was going to do was go through random crap in a police station that I knew was covered in security cameras. Instead, I left the desk and ventured down the hall opposite to the one the deputy went through. The hall was lined with empty offices. There was no sign of the Chief's office anywhere near.
Still, I continued to walk until the end of the hall. The closest camera wasn't pointing in my direction, quite odd. Though it did make a bit of sense; a small-town police department couldn't have all the resources, they hardly even had enough money to pay their deputies. I slipped quietly into the closest closet, finding—thankfully—that it happened to be a filing closet.
Creating as little noise as possible, I slipped open the first drawer of the cabinet. I wasn't sure what these files were, but the list was relatively small. Past cases solved, unsolved cases, citizens who had a record, or just a combination of all. There weren't enough crimes committed in Forks for all the files to be unsolved cases. I lightly fingered through them, doing my best to try to spy the name Swan on any file.
While luck was on my side about finding a filing closet, I wasn't having any looking for an exact file. I journeyed on to the next drawer, pausing often to listen for anyone who may be coming my way. When I was sure there was no one in the hall, I continued to look. It was after I'd gone through four drawers until I found a file.
I could have jumped with happiness. It was her name.
Isabella Marie Swan, September 13, 1987
This was beyond perfect. I opened the file, even more giddy when a picture ID fell out portraying the exact face Jane's picture showed. I quickly folded the folder up, tucking it under my jacket and closing the drawer of the cabinet. Quietly, I opened the door of the closet, slipping out into the hall.
The deputy was back at his desk, I didn't try to hide myself knowing that this was the only way out. Instead, I walked loudly and in the middle of the hall. The deputy turned quickly, his eyes narrowing when he saw me.
"What were you doing back there?" He demands in a loud voice.
I hold my hands up, stopping to show him no offense. "I was just looking for the restroom. You weren't at the desk and so I just started looking."
"It's that way." he stabbed a finger in the opposite direction of where I was.
"Oh, thank you." I said, nodding my head at him. To keep up the ruse, I walked over to where he pointed. Locking the door behind me, I decided to get started on Isabella's file while I pretended to use the restroom.
Her file was thin, which was expected of the chief's daughter. If anything, her file at another station not connected to this one would be several times as large and filled with all of her parole rules. She seemed like the type of criminal that would get caught multiple times.
Besides her picture, there was a transcript—which, surprisingly, contained a 3.94 GPA, among many other things. She, according to this file, had a clean record, but that didn't mean she wasn't a criminal. So many criminals, like me, had clean records. Or, at least offenses that didn't warrant jail or a parole.
Under all the possibly useless information was her address in Seattle, right next to Seattle University. I placed the folder back under my jacket, leaving the restroom. I waved to the deputy as I exited the station, running through the rain back to my car.
It was late, by the time I would get to Seattle it would be 1:00 A.M., at the earliest. I'd spent too much time with Alice today, but I hardly regretted it. Lurking around campus at the early hours of the morning would get nothing for me except suspicion. I'd have to put it off until I could properly blend in with the student body at the university.
It would be possible to get Isabella's information—her course schedule and possibly her work schedule if she did work—and somehow watch her throughout the day. It would be beneficial to understand who she was before I killed her, just in case there was someone I needed to be worried about who was also involved in the crimes she had committed. Mainly, staking her social and crime life out before disposing of her would be safe for me in terms of my life and avoiding jail.
Content with my discoveries of today, I took my time driving home. Tomorrow I would pick this up from where I left it.
