Prologue II: Edward Masen, 1922

They hail me as one living,
But don't they know
That I have died of late years,
Untombed although?
I am but a shape that stands here,
A pulseless mould,
A pale past picture, screening
Ashes gone cold.
- The Dead Man Walking, by Thomas Hardy

This was a foolish thing to do, I scolded myself as I trudged along the street, the collar of my coat pulled up against the chill that didn't bother me. Carlisle told me I wasn't ready to be around so many humans so soon after my change when I expressed the desire to get out of the home we shared. But I was stubborn, thinking I knew my body's limitations better than he. I was wrong, and now I understood what he meant.

I rounded a corner, feeling someone bump into me and they muttered an apology. I gritted my teeth against the fire that raged down my throat and twisted my stomach as I took in the sweet blood just beyond the surface of the man's skin. He wouldn't know what happened, no one would see him disappear into an alley as I pulled him with me. For half a second I almost turned around, but out of the corner of my eye I saw my reflection in a shop's window, my once green eyes, for I was only a few years old and could still remember such things, were a shocking shade of reddish-gold; I likened it to the shade of Iodine. Carlisle said it was because I was trying to wean myself off of human blood, the strange color, to follow in my sire's footsteps to a diet of animal blood.

But in the past four years, I had taken more human lives than I cared to count. And every time I did, I returned home expecting Carlisle to be angry with me, but he never was. The anger I could have handled, but not the disappointment, from him, the disappointment burned and scarred unlike anything else because of his unwavering trust and faith in me.

I wasn't sure how much longer I could tolerate Carlisle trying to… curb my appetite. He had lived on animal blood from his creation; I found it a bit unnatural. We were predators, humans were our prey. But I understood Carlisle from the moment my gift had been discovered because I could hear his thoughts; he didn't want to be a monster. I respected that, I respected him for building up such an immunity to human blood.

My train of thought was interrupted when I heard a commotion from my right. I turned, my eyes meeting the front door of a speakeasy. Something drew me inside, something I couldn't help. Half a dozen of the stronger smells hit me at first, smoke, alcohol, sweat, opium, perfume and cologne. My throat burned as I took in the scent of blood around me. My nostrils flared as I registered that a man two feet to my left had nicked himself shaving that day.

And then the flurry of thoughts that assaulted my mind at once distracted me from the thirst. One woman was wondering if her husband would notice the smell of the cologne of the man she was hanging on, another's thoughts were as drunk as her stumbling. A man was there collecting on a bet that he made with a friend. But there were so many, it was maddening with the voices shouting and talking and whispering in addition to the thoughts.

I made my way further into the club, "Can I find you a seat, sir?" a woman with a doll-face asked me. She smelled of brandy, lipstick, and cheap perfume. But her blood was a spicy ginger.

"A table in the back, if you please," I flashed her a smile and she easily complied to my request.

"Right this way." I followed her easily through the crowd to an open table in the back corner. She motioned for me to sit down asking, "Can I get you anything?"

I shook my head, "No, thank you."

She looked a bit disappointed that I needed nothing else from her, but she turned and walked away. To a human, the performance on stage would be barely audible from my position, but I heard it as though I were in the front. I could hear the people back stage, running to and from, trying to locate this or that. I could even faintly hear the people outside.

An angry voice from the backstage caught my attention suddenly louder than anything else. "Where the hell is Wren!? Has anyone seen her!?" The owner of the voice was moving through the performers backstage, searching for his missing performer. Then, "Damnit, Wren, you're late! You go on in five minutes!"

"Don't sweat it, Max, besides if they're here to see me, they'll wait as long as they have to," the young woman, it had to be Wren, replied arrogantly.

"I should fire your ass, you know that, Wren?" the first man, Max, sneered.

She laughed, it sounded like an angel's laugh despite her previously arrogant tone. "You been telling me that every night for a year, Max," she answered. "And how would you make money without me?"

A few minutes passed quickly before I heard Max rushing Wren to the stage, while she snapped back with a smart remark. "Ladies and gentleman, The Onyx Club is proud to introduce to you tonight, one jazz babe that is sure to steal your heart, Wren Landon!"

The trap door beneath her shuttered to a stop, and then the spotlight swiveled to her. She was tall, a little over five and a half feet, dressed in a black and silver beaded dress. It amazed me that she suddenly commanded the attention of the room, many of the female's thoughts were directed toward their envy of her, while the men… I'd rather not delve into some of their thoughts toward the young woman on stage.

The house band began to play and Wren raised her head causing some of her dark, almost black hair to fall behind her shoulders. Her mouth opened and I took an involuntary intake of breath at the sound of her voice, it was the most beautiful thing I had heard since being changed, and that was saying something. I vaguely wondered if the bells of Notre Dame were this varied and this beautiful.

And then… and then she twirled as she was dancing and her hair fanned out around her. The smell wafted over the crowd and hit me full force, almost knocking me from the chair. I saw red and felt the sudden rush of venom in my mouth coating my tongue. My throat was on fire, burning, begging for the relief her, undoubtedly, delicious blood would bring. My stomach turned and twisted, achingly empty all of a sudden. I felt the growl rumble in the back of my throat as she sent another wave of her seductive smell toward me. I felt the edges of the chair I was sitting in splinter in my hands, but I didn't let go, the chair was the only thing keeping me from leaping across the crowd and draining her with an entire audience watching.

But there was something else, along with the sudden irresistible lust for her blood. I wanted to kill every man within the vicinity that was thinking lecherous thoughts about her, I wanted to rub her beauty in the face of every envious woman. My hands itched to travel along the flimsy muscles of her legs, to twirl her hair in my fingers. I wanted blood and body.

Suddenly, I realized that she was staring at me. I couldn't fathom the look that must've been on my face for her to look at me with that expression on hers. It was as though she were looking at a monster, as if she could see me for what I was. The expression on her face spared her as I got a momentary grasp on what humanity I had left.

After the audience applauded, Wren all but fled from the stage to the safety of her dressing room. I stood quickly, stopping the air flow to my lungs, it was instantly uncomfortable, but her smell wasn't as strong anymore though it lingered in my nose and I could taste it on my tongue. I walked outside and took a deep breath, the night air was strangely satisfying, despite the humans surrounding me. Just so long as I didn't smell her. The scent of blood of the dozens of humans surrounding me was easy to deal with, which was a disturbing thought, that within a matter of a few minutes every other human's blood was tolerable except for hers.

As soon as I exited the club, I should've started walking, running as far as I could from Wren and her disturbingly, alluring scent. I should've run from her midnight blue eyes, captured by a sudden fear as she looked at me. But I didn't. Though every fiber of my being was telling me to run, lift foot, bend knee, one right after the other in the interest of self-preservation, in the interest of her preservation, I didn't.

I was unsure of how long I stood there, but soon the crowds dispersed on the streets, the cars that passed became fewer a far between. A quiet settled over the street, unbroken with the exception of distant murmurs on other streets.

A door in the alley opened, and I heard her step out into the alley, shouting good-bye to her boss. Hmm, she thought to herself. It's one o'clock, too late to catch a cab, good thing I only live a few blocks over. She was planning on walking home, in this city? For a moment, I was almost angry for her audacity, but I couldn't help but grin sardonically at the thought that she must not know what roams this city by the light of the moon.

Wren turned around to look down the alleyway, she thought she was being followed. I moved into the alley, standing behind her silently. I stooped slightly, taking in the scent of her hair. It burned my throat, rubbed it raw, I swallowed the venom that pooled under my tongue, shoved my hands into my coat pockets as I balled them into fists. The scent of cigarette smoke hung on her skin, but she smelled spicy and bittersweet, I had a feeling that her blood would taste like cinnamon with a touch of honey. I withdrew as she turned and ran directly into me.

"I-I'm so sorry, I should've paid attention to where I was going," she apologized.

Her cheeks colored prettily with her embarrassment, and I swallowed hard, she had no idea what that simple pooling of blood did to the monster that raged in me. But I reigned it in, I was determined not to harm her, an innocent girl that had done nothing but exist. "That's alright," I replied, easily.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. I scared her which was natural, it was all that was occupying her thoughts, she just wanted to go home and shut her door on me… as if that door could stop me. If only she knew. "If you'll excuse me." she moved around me, moving a little quicker towards the street.

I had the crushing feeling that if I weren't with her, something would happen to her on her way home. Against my better judgment, I asked, "Would you like an escort home?"

Wren turned toward me and was struck still by something, but it didn't last long. "Thank you, but I don't even know you."

I nodded, understanding, "If it helps any, my name is Edward Masen." I hadn't yet taken to using Carlisle's last name.

She swallowed and I fisted my hands tighter watching as the hollow of her throat moved, "Well, thank you for the offer, Edward, but I think I can manage." If my heart had a beat, it would have jumped when she said my name. Had she noticed that her voice dropped the slightest bit, to a softer level?

But panic overcame me, she couldn't walk home by herself, I couldn't let her. Were she accosted on the way home, she wouldn't stand a chance, she was thin, weak… pathetically human. I grabbed her arm jerking her to face me, I felt her human fragility in my hands and I loosened my grip, but if she felt how tightly I had her, it didn't show on her face. "It's late and I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you on your way home knowing it could've been prevented had I been with you."

I should've had her entranced from the moment she laid eyes on me. She should've been hypnotized by my unearthly beauty, and yet, she was repelled more forcefully than anyone I've encountered thus far. Her eyes narrowed in what I took as a powerful glare and she hissed, "I can take care of myself."

When she pulled her arm out of my grip she realized how tightly I had her, but she pulled with more force than was necessary. One foot stepped backward and she slipped, crashing to the ground. She cried out in pain, but it barely registered to me, it was too late - I smelled her blood. It was out in the open. The monster in me raged, jubilated, and the cage that held it bent and shattered. I pulled her up easily, and my mouth was at her throat.

I bit down, and it was disturbing how easily I broke skin. Her blood was like life it itself rushing into my mouth, mingling with the venom as it placated my thirst and cooled my burning throat. It was warm, sustaining and the taste indescribable; tangy, sweet, bitter, spicy; a delicacy. Ambrosia, the nectar of the Gods. She wasn't repelling me anymore, on the contrary, she was pressing her lean body against mine, trying to be closer and I obeyed her unspoken request by holding her tighter, feeling her spine begin to curve against my forearms.

Her heartbeat was finally slowing, she was going slack in my arms. And then she spoke, it was barely a whisper, but I heard it as if she had yelled it in my ear. "Please… st-top!"

All at once, reality rushed back to me. I drew in a gasp and pulled back, licking my lips as I dropped her gently to the ground. I watched her, pale, struggling for her last breaths. How could I have done this to her!? I loathed myself as I bent over her and brushed her hair off her forehead.

"I'm so sorry." I meant every word more than any that I had spoken in my life.

I watched her pupils dilate in and out of focus. But before they went sightless forever, something I never thought would happen, did. Her slim eyebrows came together slightly, and her eyes softened. It was a look of forgiveness. She was forgiving me, with those beautiful blue eyes, for what I had done to her. How could an angel like her, absolve one such as myself? I imagined if I could cry, I would be as her head lolled back and she ceased all movement.

I bent down, the light of the moon had caught something shiny and shiny things tended to attract my attention. It was a necklace, silver; a simple cross. I pulled it from her neck and held it in my hand, I could've crushed it easily if I simply closed my hand around it, but I didn't. I slipped it into my pocket and began the process of moving and hiding her body, I couldn't leave her there, it seemed wrong.

When I finished, I headed back to the home I shared with Carlisle, knowing the next order of events because I had lived them before. But they passed monotonously, my sire's disappointment in my actions didn't effect me as much this time. I nodded where it was appropriate, where I had dozens of times before. I went to my room afterwards, closing the door behind me. I pulled the necklace from my pocket and held it gingerly in my hands as I recalled the taste of its owner's blood in my mouth. And I felt sickened as I reached up to grasp the St. Jude pendant my mother had given me, but it was gone. I realized with sudden clarity that it was with her, she had pulled it from around my neck as she fell from my arms. It was then that I vowed to never take another innocent's life.

I had taken an angel's life, and in her last dying moments she had exonerated me of my heinous crime. The look in her eyes, and her eyes themselves, would haunt me for the rest of my days.


Alright, there we go, the second prologue in Edward's POV.
I hope that you enjoyed it!
I tried to keep him as in character as possible... let's hope io accomplished that.

Uhm... next chapter is Wren waking up as a Vampire.

I would like to thank the three people that reviewed the first prologue, it basically made my life!
So thanks to...
Marebear007, w8ing4rain, and Kanika Meskhenet.
But a bigger thanks to
Marebear007 who reminded me that I forgot to mention in the first prologue that
I got the name of the speakeasy from the musical Chicago (I was so nervous and worried about posting
that I completely forgot) So thanks!!

Please review!?

-(gxr)-