Disclaimer- I don't own Twilight or the original characters. This is written for fun and not commercial gain, no copyright infringement is intended.

So, you've come back for more huh? Better strap yourselves in, the previous warning for character death still applies.

Thanks to my Pre reader Keye and my beta Rita01TX, you girls are the bestest.

Chapter 2

Edward's POV

I watched Masen from the corner of my eye. He was sat at a table on the left hand side of the restaurant with her. She had a hand resting on the table top and his slid across to cover it. I flexed my jaw in irritation as the knife in my hand slid through the chicken breasts on the board. I glared down at them, noticing how the color of the meat wasn't so different from the color of her skin. Grinding my teeth, I imagined it was her flesh I was cutting into instead of an ingredient for the chicken piccata she'd ordered.

I didn't need to see it…this fake PDA. It made me sick to my stomach, the way she tilted her head and blushed like some coy virgin and not the whore who's only too happy to share her bed with a total stranger.

That stupid bitch is kidding herself if she thinks she knows him. He's a walking contradiction, a moral dichotomy. Everything about him had a flip side. He's the cop who boosts his own workload, the husband who helps dispatch other people's wives, the twin who's an only child.

Across the steamy kitchen, I chanced another glance through the serving hatch and caught her stroking a finger along his jaw line. I didn't need to hear her voice to figure out she was commenting on the thick growth of hair on his chin. He'll shave it off tomorrow but, since he booked the table here six weeks ago, he'd deliberately gone unshaven and grown his hair in case any of the staff commented on our resemblance. She giggled like a fucking schoolgirl and, after tightening my grip on the handle, I slammed the tip of the knife sharply into the wooden chopping block with a loud snarl.

"Fuck, Ed! You all right?"

Without releasing any of the tension from my body, I slowly twisted my face to glare at Eric, the waiter. His expression morphed instantly from smirking to afraid, almost as if he could feel the hatred bubbling beneath my skin like boiling acid. Holding up his hands, he apologized and backed away from my area.

A few heads and eyebrows raised in our direction and I glared back, forcing them to either challenge me or look away. No one ever rose to the bait. They all knew there was something off about me…that I'm just a little left of center. It suited me. I didn't need to try to keep people at arm's length; their inbuilt survival instinct naturally kept them away. Most of the time, I managed to keep my temper in check and everyone would probably put this outburst down to me having a perfectionist, chef's temperament. I pulled the white cloth out from under my belt and wiped roughly across my brow.

The inner tension was still building. I could feel my blood pressure rising, the rhythmic sound of blood pulsing in my veins getting progressively louder in my ears. It was an early warning sign telling me I had to get away, separate myself from the cause of my anxiety. If I didn't divert myself, it would only get worse. Soon, it would be all I could hear. Boom boom…boom boom…boom boom. Then, in the midst of the cacophony and with my grip on sanity at its most tenuous, a softer voice would dance through my brain. A sweet, gentle whisper I couldn't resist as it waxed in and out of my thinking, sometimes so softly I could barely make out its words of encouragement.

At that point, I would cease to exist in reality.

My consciousness and all control of my bodily functions would crawl into the small cavity of my head. Curled up, cramped and warm…like being back in the womb, I was desperate to keep hearing that voice, seeking out its lilting, musical tone, yearning to find the source. It was like a drug to me, my personal brand of heroin. My body performed on autopilot as I soaked up my instructions.

Take! Possess! Finish! Yours!

Mine! That was the thing. Masen was mine… my brother, my twin, my confidant…MINE!

I sucked in a deep breath through my nostrils. The last thing I needed was to blow my cover front of a restaurant full of idiots by giving in to my inner Edward and ending the life of one of these losers.

"I'm going for a smoke."

Heads dipped again. No one having the balls to challenge me as I stomped towards the fire door with a thunderous expression on my face, stopping only briefly to wash my hands and retrieve a pack of cigarettes from my jacket.

"Ed!"

Jessica, the restaurant manager, was already in the alley, sitting cross-legged on an upturned crate, flicking the ash from the tip of her smoke into the gutter.

"Jess."

I pursed my lips and felt in my pockets for my lighter. I had no intention of having a conversation with her…she was an empty vacuum. I walked past, intending to get to the opposite end of the alley, when she called out.

"You seen the guy at table 16? He's got that whole mountain man thing going on, but there's something about him. He could almost be your brother…I think it's his eyes."

I froze, eyes narrowing, my blood running like ice water in my veins.

"I'm an only child," I snapped, my voice menacingly low, even to my ears.

She shrugged and took a last, long pull on the white stick in her hand.

"I only said he looks like you. Jeez, you don't have to get all pissy. What's up, the tomatoes gone off or somethin'?"

She smirked and I swear to God, if I still had the knife in my hand, it would be buried to the hilt in the top of her head. I clenched my hands into tight fists, trying to contain my rage. My nails weren't that long but I still felt them cutting into the flesh of my palms. The pain kept me in the present so I squeezed even tighter. She had no idea how close she was to becoming a hot topic on the 10 o'clock news as she flicked the smoked-out butt onto the ground and squashed it into the asphalt with the toe of her boot.

"See you later," she mumbled and slipped away to the kitchen, leaving me alone.

My heart was pounding in my ribcage with so many emotions flooding my system. Jealousy for the bitch in the restaurant who got to play date night with my twin, irritation at being surrounded by a bunch of pathetic fools, and anger at being so close yet so far from Masen. He knew how I felt when things start to crowd my brain. He could calm me.

After all; he's my brother, not hers. She's just a prop. I'm the only one who knows him…the real Masen. I have the pleasure of seeing him at his most naked and exposed, consumed by lust and need, eyes wide, mouth open, curving into a beautiful smile as he gives in to his cravings.

With shaking hands, I pulled a cigarette from the pack and let it dangle loosely between my lips while I fumbled to get the cheap lighter to work. One, two, three, four…fuck! It sparked on the fifth strike and I immediately pulled in as much as the freshly lit cig would give me. I needed the hit of nicotine in my bloodstream to soothe me.

Why did he have to bring her? My anxiety level was starting to peak, my breath coming in short gasps as I struggled against the tight feeling constricting my chest. Usually, Masen's thinking was spot on. His brain and capacity for meticulous forward planning left me awestruck but, for a smart guy, this had been a really dumb idea.

Masen and I deliberately kept our relationship a secret from the world. He said it kept me safe and everything would start to unravel if people found out about us. Because of that, I'd never been to his home or met his wife and child. I wouldn't go so far as calling them his family…they're just for decoration, like baubles on a Christmas tree. I'm the only real family he has. He uses them as a shield to hide behind and deflect negative attention. Of course, they don't suspect. Why would they? He's outwardly more sociable than I was, hosting barbecues and attending nights out with his colleagues.

I like my life to be simple, clean. I avoid people wherever possible. I live alone…well, apart from my dog Sam, but he'd never tell tales. Wearing a permanent mask in public and trying to remember which inconsequential detail related to which pointless bastard around me was so draining that I rarely bothered. Now, Masen? That shit just appealed to his controlling nature. He reveled in the skill it took to hoodwink everyone around him, juggling two disparate existences and never slipping up.

But tonight was becoming dangerously close to being a slip-up of epic proportions.

Today was our thirty-second Birthday. Mason wanted us to see each other and what Mason wants Masen gets. He thought it would be thrilling to know we could be within twenty feet of each other with no one any the wiser to our connection. He got a kick out of deceiving everyone around him so, even though I didn't see the appeal of the plan, I let him go ahead and book a table. I should've guessed he'd bring her along.

I'll admit I was mildly curious to see what the attraction was and whether I might find her remotely enticing, too. Did I have a type like most men claimed to? I didn't think I did. I suppose I enjoyed sex…then again, when I stopped to analyze it, I didn't know if enjoy was the right word. I liked the release it provided but I could achieve that alone. The more I turned it over in my head, I realized the mechanics of sex…having to be nice to someone and stroking their ego in the hope they might stroke my dick in return, didn't hold any appeal and, once it was over, I wanted my routine and solo existence back and that didn't seem to sit well with the few women I'd taken to my bed. They wanted to stay the night, cuddle, eat breakfast with me and, of course, there were the strings of unwanted phone calls I had to avoid afterwards.

I didn't like that clingy shit at all.

I sucked hard on the cigarette and flicked the ash away as I started to feel the nicotine loosening some of my stress. I finished it off and barely stopped to drop the butt on the ground before lighting up a second one.

He'd told me a little about her. I knew her name was Isabella, but she preferred to be called Bella. She was twenty-nine, petite and brunette. They'd met nine years ago at a police family picnic. She was the sister of one of his colleagues and had offered him some of her potato salad…he'd said it tasted okay, but not as good as mine. As time went on, he realized she was passive to the point of being almost docile. Masen had a gift for getting his own way by manipulating people and he knew that, as long as he acted sweet around her, he could get her to believe anything he said. It was the main reason he married her. Her cooking and fucking skills were merely a bonus.

I'll admit, when he first spoke about her, my thoughts had turned to the possibility of a threesome. I wondered if she might enjoy that…if her brain would justify cheating if it was done with her husband's clone? If she truly was as compliant as Masen believed, she might go through with it, enjoy it even, but then what? Would it become a regular thing? Would we switch places for progressively longer periods, just for kicks? We could view it like a science experiment…the chance to see if she could tell us apart from the way we tasted, or how our fingers and tongues worked her pussy.

That fantasy evaporated the instant I saw her.

My eyes had been glued to her from the moment she walked in on his arm. In my opinion, she was nothing special. Open mouthed and doe-eyed, her constant hair flipping setting my teeth on edge. She certainly seemed to be dazzled by Masen, hanging on his every word like he was some kind of God. That was to be expected after all he'd told me but the one thing I wasn't prepared for was to see him acting the role of a loving and attentive husband with such…vigor. If he really was as indifferent to her as he had always claimed, he should win an award for this performance.

It made me feel uncomfortable and I didn't like it.

Maybe I was the one he was lying to! Could he be using me for his own purposes, encouraging me to do the deed he can't quite bring himself to? No…he's my Masen, my blood…MINE! I can't believe he would do anything that cruel to me. Besides, he's always taken such great pains to make sure our schemes worked perfectly and covered my tracks when I was stupid enough to leave a used condom at the scene of my second kill. No, he definitely felt it too…that itch that had to be scratched, the undeniable draw to see blood set free. I had absolute faith in him. He was my missing puzzle piece, my twin, my soul.

The second cigarette had worked its magic, settling me down enough to face the freak show again. Everyone pretended to ignore me as I stalked back to my station and, after washing my hands, I got on with my job in silence.

I tried not to stare at them but, once or twice, my eyes drifted to their table. One time, Masen was looking in my direction and our eyes locked. A grin flickered at his lips until he read my expression and became instantly concerned. It was how we often were. Closer than normal siblings, it was almost like we had some kind of mental telepathy. I could almost read his mind as he started to get flustered and excused himself to the bathroom.

It was no surprise when my cell chimed a few seconds after he'd disappeared through the bathroom doors. I checked the screen.

You look upset. Is it because I brought a guest? M.

I snorted softly. He was even cautious in his texting. I sent him a similarly ambiguous reply.

They should give you an Oscar. It's quite the display.

It was only a moment before he fired another to me.

Please don't be mad. It's only for show.

I hesitated before responding, my finger hovering over the send button.

I'm stressed. I need to see you. Stay there.

My eyes tingled at his response.

OK, but hurry.

We're not supposed to cross the floor from the kitchen unless a diner had specifically asked to see the chef, but I needed to be close to my brother. Besides, since when did I ever give a shit about abiding by rules?

I didn't ask permission; I merely slipped through the swing doors. She was occupied with picking at her cuticles and didn't even raise her head as I hurried past into the men's room. Masen was pacing in front of the sinks, the fingers of one hand buried deep in his hair. As I entered, he rushed over and immediately pulled me into a tight hug. I sagged against the firm warmth of his arms.

"I'm so sorry. I was a fool not to know it would upset you this much."

He hung his head against my shoulder, his beard tickling the skin on my neck.

"Forgive me?"

"Do you love her?" I whispered, my eyes closed, dreading his reply.

"I love you."

His words were spoken softly but I could hear the panic in his voice.

"She's…well, she's…convenient. She keeps the house going, feeds me, she's…comfortable, like a pair of old slippers. Nothing more."

"So, why does it look like you can't keep your hands off her?"

"It's an act…for show. I have to throw her a bone from time to time. You understand that, don't you?"

I stayed quiet. Just breathing in the scent of his aftershave. It was the same brand I wore. I'd bought some for him and had it hand delivered. The fact he'd worn it for me as a small sign of his devotion touched me to the core.

"Please, Edward. Say something. I can't bear thinking you hate me."

I raised my hands and encircled his waist, feeling the relief as it rippled through his body, making him groan.

"I don't hate you, Masen. I love you. You're my other half."

"Two halves of the same coin," he sighed, lifting his head and pressing his forehead against mine.

The door opened and, with my back to it, I watched in the mirror as a middle-aged, bloated guy lumbered in. He took one look at Masen and I wrapped in each other's arms and disappeared into a stall muttering, "Fucking faggots."

I flexed my jaw. I was looking for an outlet for my anger and that fat bastard was shuffling right into my cross hairs. Masen anticipated my thoughts.

"Let it go. You'll lose your job."

I screwed up my eyes and nodded. He was right again. I needed to quash my frustration and jealousy and put my faith in him. In perfect sync, we released each other and I slipped away, hurrying back to my workstation. If anyone saw me leave, they didn't mention it so I picked up where I'd left off, keeping one eye trained on the men's room door. Masen stepped out a few minutes later pacing over to Bella and grasping her roughly by the elbow. She looked startled, staring at the long fingers digging into her flesh. It was obvious he wanted her to leave and she put up no fight, grabbing her purse as he pulled her to her feet. He fished a wad of notes from his pocket and flung them on the table before marching her out the door.

I was wondering, with some measure of glee, if it was our conversation that evoked this reaction, until I saw him…the same tub of lard who'd insulted us. He was staggering out of the door to the men's room with a handkerchief clutched to his bleeding nose. One eye was closed and already swelling and his shirt was splattered with his own blood. It caused was quite a commotion in the restaurant. His wife screamed and Jess ran to fetch the first aid kit while other diners looked on with open mouths. I don't know what Masen had said to the guy but he refused to discuss it or involve the police. A wave of love crashed over me. Masen had held me back but stood up for us all the same.

It gave me a sense of euphoria which lasted way beyond the end of my shift.

The next couple of weeks were frustrating. The discovery of two of our kills kept Masen extra busy at work. Of course, there was little for the cops to go on. We'd been meticulous in our planning and execution. Masen was in the privileged position of being able to tamper with, or contaminate evidence, if needed. It proved unnecessary and he was delighted to have his suspicion confirmed that the police were looking for a solo vigilante.

I wasn't worried about the investigation. That was par for the course when you left bodies lying around to be discovered. What bothered me most was how little time I got to spend with him as a result. I hadn't been able to text or call and had only seen him briefly once or twice in the last three weeks.

It was making me anxious and felt like withdrawal symptoms.

Before he came into my life, I'd been fine. I trusted my judgements and made my own decisions. Admittedly, some of them were impulsive and not very clearly thought out, but still, I was my own man. Ever since he knocked at my door with our file in his hand, I'd been slowly growing more and more dependent on the contact he was drip-feeding and now I was feeling like I couldn't even think straight without his input.

Not that I minded it, though…this entwining of our souls. Pink Floyd said it best when they sang about becoming comfortably numb. That was me before I met Masen. I'd felt little, apart from derision, for the people who moved, seemingly aimlessly, around me. They were boring and I never saw the appeal of sacrificing any of my precious attention for them.

The only time I felt anything more was when I held a knife in my hand. Then, I was ecstatic. The surge of endorphins through my system was unparalleled. Nothing had ever come close to the high it gave me. Sex and drugs were a poor substitute to the rush of ending a life. It took me to a trance like state…one where my consciousness left my body and retreated into my head as I gave into the frenzy.

As with any strong stimuli, it was becoming addictive. I craved the exhilaration…needed it and, like any other junkie, chasing the high was starting to eclipse my reason. It made me careless. If I'd carried on the way I was going, I would have been caught a long time ago. Masen saved me by giving me direction, a preplanned outlet for my hunger. He taught me to be careful, to savor the build-up, and anticipate to joy. He understood my drives and cravings and helped me manage my compulsion.

But, now I was being denied my share of him and was struggling to hold things together.

I'd called in sick this week. Feigning a stomach bug was always good for a week away from the kitchen. Instead of lounging around at home, I'd spent most of my time parked a little ways up the street, wearing dark glasses and a baseball cap as I studied his house.

I saw him leave for work and watched her take his son to a nursery, playgroup, or wherever the hell it was she dumped him for a few hours every day. I knew the boy's name was Jasper and I'd pretended to read a newspaper while I squinted through my mirrored shades at them. She walked him past the car, no more than a foot away. If the window had been cranked open, I could've easily held my hand out and brushed my finger tips against the flowing fabric of her skirt, but it was closed and she didn't give me a second glance. I couldn't see much of a resemblance to us in Jasper. He was skipping and jabbering as he held onto her hand and I briefly wondered whether he would grow up to share our fascination with the macabre.

By day four, the lines were starting to blur. My stomach growled and I struggled to remember when I last ate. It wasn't important…I was too busy cataloging the patterns of their lives. I made notes in a diary but, when I read them back, they made no sense…just incoherent scratches on the page. I drank warm bottles of soda I kept in the trunk and pissed in the empties. I hadn't been home in a few days, sleeping restlessly in the driver's seat with my head propped against the window, afraid in case I missed an opportunity of seeing him.

Masen had arrived home at nine and I slipped out of the car to watch from the cover of the bushes in his yard as he moved through the house. I saw him eat the dinner she'd left on a plate in the refrigerator and watched as he pulled her to him for a brief kiss. That made my blood boil and I had to bite into my lip to stop myself from roaring out loud. Twice, I thought he felt my presence. His face set like stone as he stared out into the darkness beyond the window. I knew that I felt him and it was soothing just to see his face again.

When the sun rose and woke me, I drove home on autopilot to feed Sam, shower, and shave before returning to the scene of my obsession. Just like Masen taught me, I'd been careful to change my location regularly. Parking in the same spot for days on end would soon become suspicious. It was a quiet neighborhood with only a few houses and they were all well-spaced out. While Masen enjoyed the challenge of fooling people, he wasn't so relaxed that he wanted them dropping in and out for coffee. If anyone did report me, my identity would be safe. I'd remembered to use the false plates Mason had given me last year. The numbers on them were genuine, belonging to a registered private investigator. It was one of his more clever ideas. If any particularly nosey bastard ever decided to call the police, it was safe to assume the cops would think I was working, maybe trying to catch a cheating spouse, and leave me alone.

I parked at the curb a block away and had only just slipped my shades in place when she walked past my window. She'd come from behind and yet I hadn't noticed her on the sidewalk when I pulled up. Frowning, I checked my watch. Ten a.m? That meant Masen would've already left. Shit! I'd missed seeing him. Bella must've already dropped off Jasper and was walking home.

I slid from the car, closing the door quietly behind me, and followed her. Bella was incredibly unobservant. I like to think I would've noticed had I passed the same strange man in a car over a number of days, but she didn't pay me any attention.

The shapeless, bland, gray sweat pants and matching hoodie she wore suited her personality perfectly. I kept about fifteen feet away, at a safe distance. She never felt my presence…no hairs rising on the back of her neck and no icy fingers running down her spine causing her to break out in goosebumps. She surprised me when she didn't let herself in by the front door. Instead, she wandered round the side of the property and used the rear entrance. It was going to be another warm day and she left the door ajar.

For a few minutes, I stood on the door step staring at the chrome door handle like it might burn me if I dared to reach out and touch it. I knew I had no right to be there. Masen would be livid if he found out, but part of me was pushing me to take the step over the threshold and into his private world, just to see and touch his things. I wondered if I would feel his energy simply by being close to his possessions.

I pressed gently against the door with my elbow and it gave silently, opening his territory to me. I glanced around quickly. The kitchen was spacious and well-equipped with bright, shiny white cupboards and contrasting dark gray granite worktops. The chef in me approved.

She was nowhere in sight so I took the chance to look around. There wasn't much in here that pointed to this being his home, apart from a montage of family photographs on a pin board. One showed him holding up a newly born, baby Jasper to the camera and smiling. Suddenly realizing I had no pictures of him, I tore the image from its securing pin and slid it into my back pocket.

Soundlessly, I moved past the breakfast bar into the living room. Another soulless space. My heart was beating fast, the adrenaline flowing in my veins as I stalked through the house like a panther. Again, there wasn't much here that reflected my brother's existence. A newspaper with a half-completed cryptic crossword and a coiled belt rested on a low table. I fingered the brown Italian leather before slipping it through the loops of my jeans. I wasn't normally a thief but this wasn't really stealing. It was more like borrowing, just to get me through this dry spell without him.

In the hallway, I paused at the foot of the stairs and tilted my head. I could hear water running…Bella in the shower, possibly. Licking my lips, I placed a foot on the bottom step. It creaked as I pressed my weight down. Freezing in place, I heard the water stop. She was moving around. I could hear her footsteps and she was humming some tune I didn't recognize.

I took a step back, out of sight of the landing. Behind me was a closed door. I figured it would be a closet and a handy place to hide if I needed it. Wrapping the edge of my t-shirt around my hand, I twisted the handle and pushed my way inside.

It wasn't a closet. It was a study. His office. My lungs expanded, sucking in a huge breath of calming air. This was his lair, the place he came to when he needed to be alone. Excitement prickled my skin as I glanced around and noticed a desk and chair, a locked filing cabinet…interesting. I wondered if this was where he kept the copies of his murder scene photographs. I couldn't find a key so I assumed I was right and he carried it with him. I was beginning to settle down. The place smelt faintly of his aftershave. I smiled, even without being here; the simple knowledge of his presence had a way of calming me.

It was time to leave. I slunk out of the room and into the hall. I carefully tried the front door but it was locked. Needing to make it back through the kitchen to make an escape, I quietly moved through the house. As I stepped into the kitchen I saw her. She'd changed out of the jogging gear and was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a blue, strappy tank top. Her dark hair was still damp and pinned up on the top of her head, showcasing her delicate neck. In this outfit, she cut a surprisingly attractive figure, a balance of dips and curves. She didn't notice me watching. She was facing away, peeling vegetables at the counter by the sink. White wires ran from her ears to her phone and her backside bobbed from side to side to the beat. It was hypnotic, the way she moved; more so because she thought she was alone. Without thinking, I took a step closer. Breathing deeply, I could smell the scent of her body wash and shampoo, a combination of vanilla and strawberries, I think…mesmerizing.

Without warning, she turned and her eyes widened in panic to see me there.

"Masen! Shit, you scared me, creeping up…like…that."

Her voice trailed off as her eyes scanned me from the top of my head, down past my face, to the unfamiliar clothes, not the shirt and tie she'd sent him off to work in, along my arms to my clenched fists.

"You're not Masen. Who are you?"

She pulled the ear buds from her ears and pressed herself against the edge of the worktop, her head flicking from side to side while she tried to formulate an escape plan. I'll admit I was impressed by how quickly she realized I wasn't her husband. Perhaps she knew him better than I thought or maybe the best part of a week spent living in a car, barely eating and hardly sleeping, had made me gaunt and unrecognizable. Then again, it might have been the glint of madness in my eyes that had her afraid.

Yes, that was her reaction…fear. It was rolling off her in waves. Eyes wide, breathing accelerated. These were my triggers; I could feel the excitement blooming inside as I took a second step towards her, my lips curving into a grin. I caught a glimpse of myself reflected in the glass of a wall cabinet. I might have been smiling, but there was nothing friendly about my manic, deranged expression.

"Who are you?" she demanded again, her voice wavering.

"Edward."

The name meant nothing to her. I'll admit, I'd been mildly curious whether he'd spoken to her about me, but it was clear she had no idea who I was, so I added.

"Your brother-in-law."

She faltered for a second, but the proof was there before her eyes. I may be a little haggard but I was clearly similar enough for her to call me by his name.

"No. He's never mentioned a brother."

"Yet, here I am."

My tone was menacing and it forced her to sidle a little farther along the counter edge, desperate to keep some precious distance between us.

"You don't really know him at all, do you?"

"He's my husband."

I threw my head back and roared with laughter.

"That means nothing. Blood is thicker than water."

Blood…the thing that connects us both and makes us one in our compulsion.

It was pumping fast around my body, fueled by excitement, the anticipation of her next move driving me on. I was a shark swimming in uncharted waters with no real idea what would happen next, so far across the line Masen had drawn for me, there was no way back.

"I want you to leave. Masen will be home soon."

She squared her petite shoulders, trying to stand up against my six feet two frame. Of course, she looked ridiculous, like a grumpy kitten.

"Oh, he won't be back until much, much later. It'll give us time to get better acquainted…Sis."

"Stay away from me!"

She was terrified. Having this power over her made my guts shiver in anticipation. I couldn't turn back now. I had to see how far I could push this.

I took another step towards her and it all happened in a second.

Steel flashed in the sunlight as she lunged forward with the vegetable knife. I made a grab for her hand and felt the blade slicing deeply into my flesh. I stumbled backwards as a searing pain shot across my palm. Clutching my injured hand, I stared at her. She was motionless, gaping at the red blood dripping onto the tiled floor.

"Oh, God!" she whimpered, her eyes shifting to the bloodstained blade in her trembling hand. Her face was paler than usual and I threw my head back and laughed as I realized Masen had managed to choose a wife who didn't like the sight of blood.

I made a tight fist and watched as a few larger drops fell, splashing and spreading as they landed.

"Mason will be sorry he missed this," I quipped, swiftly disarming her.

She put up a feeble resistance as I twisted her around and held the knife to her throat.

"You see, sweet little sister, you don't know your husband at all. All those late night meetings, the conferences…he was with me, indulging in our little…hobby."

I pressed the blade firmer against her skin and she swallowed hard. I was swaying a little, feeling drunk as the rhythm of my blood pulsed hard in my ears, adrenaline and endorphins pumping through my system. I couldn't hold on much longer; the voice would be here soon and then I would have no control left.

"No! No, please!" she begged as tears flowed down her face.

"Shhh, don't cry. You deserve to know the truth. You see, Masen loves blood. Can't get enough of the stuff. It's what he lives for."

"No, you're wrong! He's a gentle, loving man. He's no killer," she groaned and sagged against my chest.

The sounds in the room were pulling away, stretching and warping as I felt myself letting go of reality.

"Poor, silly Bella. He's not the killer…I am."

I didn't hear the scream; I was already safely ensconced in the sanctuary of my head. I did, however, see the spray of red as my hand dragged the knife over her throat. While I was floating in a sea of bliss, she slumped to the floor. I watched motionless while she flopped around, mouth moving but no apparent sound coming through. Her hands flailed at the dangling ear buds as she tried to pull the phone towards herself. It shifted slightly and the screen lit up, revealing a photograph of Masen and Jasper smiling at me.

Fuck! Masen.

In an instant, I was back in my body and back in the room. Bella's blood splattered across the cupboards and pooled around her head like a halo as she lay wheezing on the floor. I dropped the knife and snatched up the phone, desperately scrolling through for his number.

"Hi, honey!" he answered brightly on the second ring.

"It's me…you need to come home. Now!"

There was silence for a second before the call disconnected.

Bella's eyes watched me as she gasped for air, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. I knelt beside her, wrapping a kitchen cloth around the wound, truly undecided if I wanted her to live or die. I was out of my depth and terrified of Masen's reaction when he saw what I'd done.

Would he be upset because I'd ruined his cozy little set up, or grief stricken to find the mother of his child lying in a pool of blood? Or would he be furious with me for being so careless and leaving so much evidence at the scene?

I heard his key in the door fifteen minutes later.

"In here!" I shouted, still cowered down beside his now motionless wife.

"What the hell are you doing here, Edward? Where's Bella?"

The words died in his throat when he saw the blood soaked scene in his kitchen. Mouth agape, he stared between me and the woman on the floor.

"What happened?"

He staggered towards us, falling to his knees. I could see the panic dancing in his eyes. For once in his life, he didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my head bowed in contrition. My brother was suffering and it was all my fault.

"Edward, Why are you even here?"

"I was missing you. I'd been watching you come and go. It helped…made me feel better to see you."

The words sounded pathetic, making me a whiny child explaining why he stole cookies from a jar.

"I needed to feel close to you again and, when she left the door open, I…I just…I."

"Is that my belt?"

He pointed to my waist and I nodded, too ashamed to look him in the eye.

"I needed something of yours," I sighed deeply. "She caught me trying to sneak out and cut me with a knife."

I didn't tell him I could've slipped away if I hadn't tried to move in so close and startled her.

"She cut you?"

He sounded skeptical.

"Yes. She was cooking."

I held my palm open, showing the deep gash. With so much blood, it looked much worse than it felt. In fact, since killing Bella, I'd almost forgotten about it.

"So, some of the blood here is yours?"

He looked at the floor. It was almost like I was seeing the scene with fresh eyes and a wave of panic slammed into me.

"Oh, God! What have I done?"

I felt sick. Giving in to my urges had never affected me like this before. It wasn't for the loss of her life, or for how they would explain to Jasper where his mother was. It was the look of disappointment on Masen's face.

"I'm sorry, so, so sorry," I gulped, my chest heaving, eyes brimming with tears.

He was at my side in an instant.

"Shh, don't cry."

I was shocked when he tenderly brushed the moisture from my cheeks. What was happening to me? I didn't cry. Not ever. Everything was out of balance. I wasn't in control anymore. My breath was coming in short gasps and I started to feel light headed. Needing air, I tried to stand but my legs buckled beneath me.

"Edward, you're panicking. Take deep breaths and look at me."

His large, warm hands grasped my face and forced me to meet his intense gaze. I searched his face for answers as I tried to get my emotions in check.

"Wha…what…are we going to…to do?" I stammered.

"I'm going to take care of everything. Where's the knife?"

I couldn't remember what I'd done with it. Finally, I spotted it and, with shaking hands, passed it over. He grabbed up the kitchen towel from around Bella's neck and carefully wiped the handle with an unsoiled corner before pressing it against her palm and closing her fingers around it.

"Right," he said. "I need your clothes."

He was already kicking off his shoes and removing his trousers. I frowned, baffled by his actions.

"Come on, hurry. We don't have much time."

I did as I was told and stripped down to my boxers. I expected him to stuff the blood stained clothing into a bag for destroying but, instead, he started pulling on my discarded t-shirt and jeans.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

"Put my clothes on."

He grimaced as he drew the blade sharply backward across his palm, producing a wound almost identical to mine.

"Masen!" I yelled, horrified at seeing him mutilate himself.

"Edward," he said softly as the blood dripped from his palm. "You know I love you."

I nodded.

"Remember…two halves of the same coin. I'll do whatever it takes to protect you, including taking the blame for this."

His words shocked me.

"But, you can't…I."

"We can't pretend this hasn't happened. Someone might have seen you follow her inside. Your blood is at the scene and I've made an excuse to leave work early. I've got to deal with this."

"But my blood's here."

He smiled.

"Your blood is my blood. Identical twins have identical DNA."

"But, I can't let you take the blame! This is my mess."

I couldn't lose him. Not like this…not now.

"I can't take the risk of exposing you. If they know the truth, it will all start to unravel. Eighteen murders, Edward. That's the rest of our lives in prison. It'll be better for me to admit to one crime of passion. After all, Bella just rang me at work to ask for a divorce and they know I've been under a lot of pressure, lately, what with the new cases and having to work all those extra hours."

My mind was reeling. My brother was going to put his neck on the line to save me. I didn't think it was possible to love him any more than I already did but, at that moment, I felt like my heart wasn't big enough to keep it all contained.

"What about Jasper?" I asked, a fresh round of tears in my eyes.

"He'll be fine. Bella's father is still alive. I'm sure he'll look after him."

He reached across for the phone and dialed 911.

"You need to leave now," he whispered, "Go home and lie low. I'll contact you as soon as it's safe."

The call connected and Masen cried down the line, "Help me! She's not breathing! Oh, God! I think I killed her."

He sounded frantic as he rattled off his address and repeated it, "Yes, that's it. Erm, my name is Masen…Masen Branden. Hurry! I need help!"

He held his uninjured hand out to me and I took it in both of mine before turning it over and placing a kiss on his palm. Then, quietly and with his eyes following me, I slipped away.

I'd left him alone to deal with a mess that I'd made. My mind was in turmoil and I had no idea how I managed to drive home but I found myself sitting on my sofa with Sam lay across my feet, licking at the dried blood on my palm.

I thought about Masen sitting in a police interrogation room, the lies flowing from his tongue as he gave up his liberty to protect mine. I had no idea if the cops would believe him or what sentence he would get for killing his wife if they didn't, but the one thing I did know was that this was his way of showing me how much I meant to him.

I'd let him down. He always said it would be dangerous for our lives to overlap but I couldn't stay away. They say curiosity killed the cat. My curiosity had killed more than just Bella. It had killed my spirit and taken my brother from me, too…the one person in this world I loved and trusted.

Three weeks with minimal contact had driven me to the brink of insanity and now I felt number than ever. How could I possibly survive an enforced separation of ten, fifteen, or maybe twenty years? It already felt like a piece of me was missing.

Should I even try to go on without him? That would be the easy way out…drawing the blade across my own neck and letting to world fade to black while I watched the life force spraying out of me. What an ironic ending to my twisted life that would be, the executioner dying at the sharp end of his favorite instrument.

No! It would make a mockery of Masen giving up his freedom, leaving him rotting in a prison cell appalled by my cowardice after he'd made such a huge sacrifice.

My head dropped to my hands. What would I do when the compulsion to kill overcame me? I had the benefit of Masen's fastidious knowledge but would I enjoy it without his presence? Having him locked up, unable to indulge his passion, would taint my experience with guilt.

All I wanted was to be in the cell with him, close to his aura and feeding on his presence. I think I could cope then. Even if we couldn't satisfy our urges, we would be together.

The pieces of the puzzle began to join together in my addled brain. If Masen was sentenced, I'd do whatever I needed to do to join him. I'd make a random killing, something messy and in public, not planned and controlled like our previous kills. Someone who wouldn't link us to our previous victims would do nicely; maybe someone from work…Jess possibly. I could imagine slicing a blade sharply across her throat and setting her body spinning. The spray from her wound coating the faces of the wide eyes diners in the restaurant while I calmly walked to the phone, before dialing 911 to give myself up. Even though there was the chance we wouldn't be incarcerated in the same facility, I'd feel closer to him and I could always work on being transferred once I was inside the prison system.

It might even do me some good. Being unable to indulge my cravings would be a penance, of sorts, and abstaining might make the whole experience sweeter when we were eventually free to continue our campaign together in the future.

Yes, that would be my plan…it would give me something to look forward to.

A/N Gah! One more installment to go...I'd love to hear how you think it will end, will Masen get off? Will Edward resist the temptation to make a solo kill? Will Charlie come storming in with a smokin' magnum and his twitchy mustache? Let me know what you think...

Finale is already written and will be posted in a few days.

Pleasant dreams.

Claire x