Three weeks passed before we emerged. Three weeks of complete silence. Outside the big oak doors, I could hear life continue, albeit at a softer stunted pace. Beneath us, 11 vampires moved about on eggshells, only the pixie daring to interrupt our solitude. She seemed aware I wasn't accustomed to depriving myself; every few days she slipped a blood pack under the door. It wasn't nearly enough, but I managed to control myself until the hunger was even too much for Carlisle.
We went well away from human populations to hunt; farther than I'd ever traveled in a single night for a meal. I'd been dreading this part – feeding from filthy animals to sate the thirst. Now that we were here it was worse than I'd expected. The very smell of the creatures was enough to turn my stomach. I honestly lost my appetite. But I suspected Carlisle wouldn't be pleased if I ate his granddaughter later.
The things I did for this man.
When we returned, they were waiting for us. Carlisle's family, the other coven, even a handful of mongrels they seemed to keep as pets. They all demanded to hear the story. I was a little surprised they didn't know already, but it seemed my Edward had decided it was Carlisle's story to tell.
Part of me wanted to step between them, scold them for pushing him and say he would speak to them when he was ready. But the bigger part of me was still curious. After three weeks I still didn't know the answer to this burning question. What could have killed one of our kind and escaped without leaving a trace? What could have killed Esme without her family intervening?
Carlisle's voice was low and punctuated by grief as he told us. He only knew that it was others of our kind. They had gone to hunt, but he'd been called back to the hospital early. She had stayed, still less able to control her thirst as well as he could. His voice was heavy with disgust as he admitted to leaving her. When she didn't return in a few days, they had gone to search. All they had found was the pile of ashes and two unfamiliar scents, too faint to track.
I looked at Edward, silently asking if he'd picked up on any traces of the killers' thoughts. He shook his head quickly and then dropped it. My telekinetic energies made the air in the room crackle. Carlisle may be a passivist, but Esme was as much my child as his, and I wouldn't see her murder go unpunished.
I felt my energies expanding with my anger, and I left the house before I damaged anyone. I reached the tree line, and the pines bowed around me. I tried to concentrate, but I knew I couldn't until I had done something. I pulled out my phone and hit the speed dial, hoping it would work internationally. I cursed when I was sent to voicemail.
"I need you, Zakhar," I said. I flipped the phone closed and felt my energies receding into me. He would get my message and then Esme would get justice.