Chapter II

The Muse

The next one that we met came armed with a gift. I had a gift of my own of course – but few people knew what it was, or even how it worked.

We were in my castle in the French countryside, on the outskirts of Paris. Being near a big city meant that the disappearances of my victims were nearly never noticed, unlike Carlisle's village where everybody knew everybody.

He was just a boy, only seventeen years old. He was French but his name originated from the Old English.

Edward.

Edward was shaking as he stroked his mother's face.

"Mother, please don't, please don't…"

"Sometimes," whispered his mother as she looked into Edward's green eyes, "the Lord calls back what he has given to you."

Edward was now shaking with anger. "How," he seethed suddenly, "Can you keep your faith in Him when He has taken so much from us?"

His mother smiled. "Because, my son, He has left you alive."

His shaking slowed down. "I know. I am sorry, mother." He didn't mention the fact that he now had a burning fever; or that he had been hacking and coughing for the last week; how he could not sleep at night because of the growing pain within his gut.

Elizabeth's breathing was rasping now. They had lived in this forest for Edward's whole life because of his 'condition'. When they had been driven out of the village by all the men – including Edward Snr. – it had just been Edward and Elizabeth.

Passing travellers had given news of a new epidemic within the cities. But then there were the celebrations – the sickness had passed, and all was well.

But now Elizabeth was showing all the symptoms.

And now Edward was going to lose the one person who meant anything to him.

The disease was already taking him, too, he could feel it. But he didn't want to tell his mother – she had to die happy.

Tears came to his eyes as she struggled to breathe in front of him.

Then Edward heard a slam as the front door was smashed down.

He walked into the room. The light shone around his head like a halo and his skin sparkled like it was covered in thousands of diamonds. He had blond hair and his face was inhumanly perfect, and his eyes were like liquid gold.

"Angel," whispered Elizabeth, "Please, guéris mon fils." Then she closed her eyes for the last time.

The Angel kneeled down next to Elizabeth and gently smoothed back her hair from her face. He began whispering and Edward, still in shock, realised that he was praying.

Finally he turned to Edward, taking a deep breath in. "You are sick," he said in a velvety toned voice. Edward, his mouth slightly open, nodded, before looking down at his mother's death.

"Let me see you," said the Angel, and Edward slowly pulled off his shirt. Once the Angel saw who he really was, he would not stay.

He heard the Angel gasp, and as he turned around he felt cool, marble fingers trace the hardened mutated skin on his back. "You have leprosy?"

Edward only nodded.

"The disease has not yet travelled to your face."

"It will only be a matter of time," whispered Edward. "The doctor refused to see me, but said that after my fifth year of the disease, I would die. It is my fifth year now."

The Angel looked at Edward with a shrewd look on his face, finally reached out and took his hand. "You will come with me," he said, "And I will complete your mother's last wishes."

Suddenly Edward collapsed to the ground, a hacking sound coming from deep within his throat, and as he coughed blood came from his mouth. The Angel pulled Edward up into his arms, holding him like a child, and began to run as Edward passed out.

******

When Edward awoke, he was in a dark castle room and above him was a face. It was as beautiful as the Angel's, but it could never be mistaken for an Angel. The expression on the man's face was not good, or kind. It was calculating. And his eyes were a pure ruby red.

Edward tried to sit up and speak but as he did his body shook with the racking coughs. The man with the red eyes gently pushed him back down onto the four-poster bed.

"Now, now," he said in a deep voice. "Rest. You are here only because I allow you."

Edward did not speak, but watched the man with wide green eyes. Finally he whispered, "The Angel. Where is he?"

The man chuckled. "Your Angel is downstairs. He has begged for me to save your life because he does not have the power to do it himself."

Edward's mind raced. If The Angel was begging favours from this man, than that meant―

"Hardly," laughed the man. "I am not your God, or anyone's."

"Mind reader," whispered Edward, but the man chuckled again. "You are just like all the other mortals, so predictable in your thoughts of superstition and belief."

Edward tried to stand up, but again the man pushed him back down.

"Then you are Lucifer," Edward croaked. At this, the man's jaw dropped, but soon a smile spread across his face.

"That is a very original thought. No, I am hardly Lucifer, merely his servant," said the man amusedly. "My name is Trey. And I am here to save you."

Edward's eyes were wide, but his muscles were weak. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Trey laughed again, and to Edward's ears the sound was sinister.

Trey leaned down next to Edward's head, and the boy was frozen.

"I am here to heal you, child. But it will not be easy," he whispered as he opened his mouth and plunged his fangs into the soft skin of Edward's neck.

Edward began screaming as the venom flowed into his veins, and Trey pulled back licking his lips. He watched with a smooth face as Edward writhed, shrieking from the pain.

"Don't worry. The pain will end and when it does, you will be ranked equal with those of angels and gods…" Trey left the room, closing the door behind him.

Out in the hallway, Carlisle tensed as Trey shut the door, then walked up to him. "Did you…"

Trey growled. "Surely you can hear him scream now?"

Carlisle winced as Edward's scream, begging them to kill him, filled his ears. "Yes."

Trey chuckled. "I still don't understand why you wanted me to change him."

Carlisle shook his head. "To me he seems… different. And I couldn't do it myself. If I were to lose control…"

Trey laughed. "Yes. That makes sense, I suppose. You can nurse your boy, Carlisle, and you best have something for him to drink when he wakes up," said Trey with a malicious glow in his red eyes.

As Trey walked away, Carlisle walked into the room. He pulled a chair up next to Edward's bed and did the only thing he could do – keep Edward company. As Edward screamed for the next three days, Carlisle apologised profusely, telling him about his new life and what was going on. The guilt of watching this boy's body burn with the pain that he had inflicted weighed upon him. But every time Carlisle thought back to the boy's mother, and heard her voice in his head, he knew it had made the right decision.

"Angel, please heal my son."

Edward was born with the incredible gift to read people's minds. Admittedly, he could only read what was going through their minds at that very moment, but it was still an amazing gift.

At first, his was indecisive about his diet choices. Using his mind-reading ability he would hunt down and feed only on criminals – those guilty of murder or rape. But looking back now, I realise that Carlisle had instilled much too many morals and ideas of good and evil in his head. Edward ended up following the diet of Carlisle, drinking only animal blood.

He, like Carlisle, became educated; he had a particular love for music; but his belief in the afterlife for our kind was that there was none.

Edward had been with us for five years. During those years we moved from Paris to all around France, then across England, and we were travelling through Scotland at the turn of the century when we found the next to join my coven.