September 11th

It was deep in the night. Unnatural blackness, aided by the new moon, shrouded her movements toward the opulent house. They were only staying here, just a few miles away from Court, for a week and a half, but it didn't matter to them. The house was grand and tall, clad in glass and lots of balconies, hidden by a heavy forest. A large pool rested out front. The surface was as smooth and clear as glass. They couldn't handle staying in a smaller house for a week?

Carefully, staying in the shadows, she maneuvered her way to the lower balcony. She considered for a moment, then began her climb. She'd attached powerful magnets to her gloves and shoes and used them now to make her way up the iron support. All the while, she worried about her vulnerable position—or rather, the little voice guiding her did.

Finally, she made it to the second-floor balcony. It had seemed like an eternity, and there were two more floors to go before she made it to Isabella's bedroom. She took a moment to breathe, curled on the corner of the balcony, before continuing on up the support beams.

Third floor. She took another moment to catch her breath and slow her pounding heart. How many times had she killed…yet how many had she murdered?

Silence, the little voice whispered, the one that had been speaking to her the past week. There is nothing wrong with removing the weak from the world, it said. Those hearts with no passion to change, with no drive to create, must be taken out of its own sphere of influence. They cannot be allowed to poison the hearts of those around them with numbness, with passionlessly moving through each day heedless of the ripples in the water they could create…yes, my dear, they must be dispatched before they can do harm. You are too young yet to understand. Trust me, dear. Trust me as you have been.

And yes, she did. She trusted that voice, that voice who knew all her thoughts and all her wishes, desires, dreams, loves, hates, regrets, mistakes…that knew her as well as her love ever could. That voice had guided her in the ways of darkness ever since she had given into it. Darkness, she now knew, was not evil. It was simply the natural counterpart to light. Without shadows, no one would notice the sun. She acted in the best interest of the world.

And it didn't matter to her how many lives those interests cost.

Isabella Swan was a necessary price.

Refilled with boldness, she used the pocket laser to carve a small hole in the glass of the balcony door. Silent. Useful. The voice had guided her to it. She carefully reached in, mindful of the sharp edges, and unlocked the door from the inside. Intuition told her there was no one in the room, no one alert at least, and she was right. The drugs she'd given Isabella, specially made for her kind, had put her into a state of what was almost like half-consciousness. Her husband was hunting. She was alone.

Take her now. This is what you have been waiting for.

All reason washed away at the voice's urging. She slid the door open and stepped forward. Isabella looked up at her, helpless, eyes glazed over blankly.

Take her.

She did.

She is the price.

A/N: If you're confused on the timeline, go back and read the dates at the top of each chapter.

-Skylar