"How does he know me, Carlisle?" I asked.
"He has visited us, son," Carlisle said, turning to look out the western window. "Always hidden, because I didn't want his charisma to jeopardize our diet… but it seems he was just biding his time."
I heard Carlisle sigh. I shuddered, despite myself.
"He came to see me." I said. It wasn't a question. Carlisle nodded at the moon.
"Yes," he closed his eyes. "It seems he finally has."
"I should go to him first," I said, gliding to my feet faster than human eyes could have seen. I dragged my fingers through my tangled, damp hair. Damned New Orleans heat… "You don't have to deal with him."
Carlisle chuckled. "Lestat is no threat to me, Edward. But be careful. Listen to Alice. And try to minimize his contact with Bella. She's extraordinary, but he is a… let's just say he is a master of seduction. Not sexually…"
I cringed, but he continued.
"But he has a way of convincing others that what he thinks is the only conclusion one could come to… that his thinking is flawless. And well. Let's just say around Lestat, all ways are Lestat's ways. Don't cross him, Edward."
I nodded and turned back into the garden. Carlisle's words had shaken me. He spoke about this Lestat, this flamboyant vampire cum rock star as if he could turn the very tides, but I had seen Carlisle bewitched by character before. I heard him talk of his early admiration for Aro, before experience exposed his penchant for treachery, for needless violence. Carlisle loved big personalities. Perhaps that explained why he loved Rosalie, Emmett and Alice. Why he loved me. Esme, Jasper and Bella were more nuanced, subtle. I was an anxiety train wreck, convinced that everything would end with a wrong wind. Bella calls me her delicate flower. It makes me cringe, but she's right.
What the hell did Lestat want with me?
Carlisle told me Lestat was a night owl, reveling in the Bram Stoker fantasy of the vampire who sizzled into ash in sunlight, and while I found our sparkles exasperating, I thought Lestat's melodrama was a bit over the top. Carlisle said he lay during the day in a coffin, because he found it amusing. Having drunk from Akasha, his skin was still alabaster, but didn't glint in the sun. He was one of the few immune to daylight, but I suppose old habits are hard to break. Mine are.
I spent the day inside the house, breathing in the fresh, damp Forks air and playing the songs Bella had inspired in me on my grand piano. She was hunting with Alice, and I played as if it could call her back to me. I loved the way the instrument shifted slightly on the old floor boards when the tempo accelerated. How it seemed to sigh back into place when it slowed. The entire house seemed to sway slightly, in time with my torso, circling, eyes closed, with the rhythm of the song.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
My eyes flew open and there he stood, leaning against the French door overlooking the forest. Lestat. Forks. How the hell did he get in here without me smelling him? Hearing him?
"Lovely tune, Edward," he said, tucking a lock of his wild hair behind his ear. "Really. You have a gift."
I stood, pushing the bench from the piano with such force that it flew across the room and knocked the sofa back a few feet.
Lestat chuckled deep in his throat.
"I didn't mean to alarm you," he said. "But that was mesmerizing. Edward Cullen, the hidden virtuoso."
He stalked from the door to the keyboard, running his fingers along it with enough force to move them them, but not enough to make them sound.
"One of your kind would make a remarkable addition to my entourage…" he cooed, sliding the lid over the keys. In a flash he moved the bench back around me, under the piano, and pushed me onto the black leather sofa. "Tell me, Edward. Tell me about your music…"
If he had asked about whether I'd leave the family, about Bella, about anything else… I might have been able to think before I spoke. But Lestat had a way about him. You wanted to answer him. You wanted to soothe him. God, he was good.
"I'm a vampire. I don't need to breathe. But the music is my breath," I said.
"And her?"
"She is my life. I need them both."
"Good. Good." He laced his fingers behind his back and stood facing me.
"Then you will come with me, my son…" Lestat purred into my ear, sliding his fingers along my jaw as if I were his pet. He turned my face to his and I was again glued to his emerald eyes. Human eyes. No. Not quite human. Too bright. Too green. The color of actual emeralds… a watery, cold green that saw only its prize.
"I prefer to stay here with Carlisle," I said. "With my family."
"I already have them, Edward," Lestat sat and leaned back against the sofa, lacing his fingers behind his head as if he were talking about incoming bad weather.
I stood and hovered over him, unleashing the predator, pinning him to the sofa with my right hand.
His grip on my wrist almost pulverized my vampire bones.
"Didn't Carlisle tell you?" he asked. "I drank from Akasha, young one. You cannot destroy me. You can't even dent my skin, no matter how hard you try. I am as old as the sand, young Edward. Resisting me is of no use to you."
"Where is Bella?" I snarled, bringing my mending wrist to my chest, but I could not hide my panic. "What have you done with my wife?"
"Oh Edward," Lestat sat back, crossing one leather-clad leg over the other. "I'm a predator, but I'm by no means an animal."
Them… Wait. Who is them?
"Alice and Bella," he said with a voice as cold as ice. He could read my mind.
"What would you do to get them back?"
Anything, I thought. Anything...
