A Path of Obligation

As he glided through the throng of waiting people, he glanced at the clock on the far wall. While there were but minutes before his departure, there was little rush; he knew he would make his flight. That had been arranged ahead of time.

To human eyes, walking across the crowded space, he was, perhaps, a wealthy entrepreneur, or maybe a young aristocrat. He moved with a certain surety and grace, like someone who knew exactly where he was going and why. His dark suit was exquisitely cut, tailored precisely for his lean frame, and the white collar of his oxford was rigid and heavily starched. In his hand, he carried a single bag, a supple leather duffel, elegantly sewn and crafted.

Amongst the olive skin and dark hair of the masses, with his pale-white complexion and riotous bronze hair, Edward was hard not to miss. But he'd learned long ago that hiding drew even more attention, attention of the unwanted variety. So, to avoid it, he feigned humanity; he pretended to be one of them. And as such, he was but a fleeting memory in their minds, the handsome and smooth stranger, the man they wanted to see.

He laughed at the right moments and he tipped generously, all the while fluently speaking his thanks in their native tongue, but with the deliberate accent of an educated foreigner. When wandering eyes met his, if but for a brief moment, he flashed a gleaming, megawatt smile, distracting them from the blood-red color of his irises. Unwittingly, given enough time under his inspection, the human defense mechanism, some secret, deeply buried instinct, would kick in. Those traveling eyes would fall away, and their owner would quickly depart the danger he only subconsciously recognized.

Sometimes, meandering amongst them made him feel almost as though he were one of them, a confusing sensation of almost belonging. He could almost forget his ties and bindings. He could almost be the person he projected. Yet other times, coursing through the overheated space and hearing the thwacking of their gurgling veins made him feel colder than he already was; it made him feel all the more foreign, all the more alien and alone.

As he approached a counter, Edward inventoried the woman behind it. Her thoughts were wandering and she was more focused on the explosive argument she'd had with her boyfriend the night before than she was on her job. She was young, attractive by human standards, with short, angularly cut dark hair and pale pink lips. For a moment, she didn't see him; instead she gazed listlessly at black-typed words on a dated computer screen. Deep in the recesses of her mind, she was considering leaving life as she knew it and starting over somewhere new. But Edward knew that she never would. Her mind betrayed her; she needed security and the feeling of being wanted.

"Scusi," Edward purred, his voice soft and sensual. He knew from experience that human women were particularly susceptible to the musical lilt of the vampire voice. Yet another of his traps, another diversion from peril, and this woman would surely fall prey. "Dov'è il check-in per il volo settecento ventuno?"

For a moment, the woman stared, dumbfounded and mouth agape. Her hands paused over the keys, almost as if she were frozen. He could hear the air in her lungs expelling in short, shallow pants, and her heartbeat had stepped up in time. Seemingly amused, he lifted his arched brows and smiled flirtatiously.

In acknowledgment of his attention and flirtation, a string of incoherencies rambled through her thoughts, all incredulous and disbelieving of her good fortune. "Il Check in è qui," she finally stuttered, her breath catching in her throat.

"Grazie al cielo! Ho appena perso…," he laughed, knowing the sound invariably put humans at ease. He kept his eyes down, looking up through his dark lashes; likely, she would see only coquetry rather than the scarlet of his irises.

As he knew it would, the attendant smiled in response and flushed at the attention. "Come si chiama? Posso vedere il suo passaporto?"

"Edward Masen," he said quietly, placing his passport on the counter and allowing his fingers to linger just a second longer than necessary.

"Signor Masen," the attendant mouthed, dumbly picking up his documents. Mutely, she was running through a dozen scenarios, all aimed at keeping him at the counter as long as possible. She murmured, "E' in viaggio per affari? O una vacanza?"

"Purtroppo per affari," Edward said with a disinterested wave of his hand. Acting his part, he furrowed his brows in disappointment, as if he didn't want their time to end. "Mi dispiace…Signora… Carolina? Vado di fretta…"

"Si! Certo!" she rushed, suddenly embarrassed. But a part of her delighted that he used her name, relished the way it sounded coming off his lips. She was distracted so much that she didn't even think as to how he knew it. And just as he'd predicted she would, she stamped all his documents to process straight through. "Presto! Ha solo dieci minuti fino alla partenza! Vada subito all'uscita numero ventinove!"

"Molte grazie," he said with a wink, scooping up his ticket and passport.

Twenty minutes later, Edward lowered the window shade to his left, closed his eyes, and tried to ignore the two hundred and fifty-nine screaming voices and thoughts bouncing off the walls of the 767 aircraft, his prison for the next dozen hours.

~.~.~

It was night when Edward finally stepped off the plane and walked up the long jet way into the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport. The noxious stench of burned aviation fuel and hot rubber was everywhere, filling his nostrils and lungs, overpowering almost everything else. The echoing rumble of thoughts and voices from the plane became a pounding, unrelenting roar as he suddenly heard hundreds more voices all at once. Mixed in were pattering heartbeats and wheezing, wet breaths, all calling to the dull fire in his throat.

Carlisle Cullen had not been difficult to locate. With but a few calls to a few of the nomadic members of his kind, Edward had easily determined the coven's rough location. After some years in northern Canada, they'd recently moved south to Kimball, Minnesota, a tiny town of less than seven hundred inhabitants, located just west of Minneapolis.

Unlike the nomads, the Cullen coven did not roam the country. Instead, they lived and interacted with humans, living in semi-permanent homes. It was a strange existence for his kind; so few would risk the exposure. Certainly, his residency was permanent. But this life of the Cullen coven was different. While for centuries, the Volturi had ruled from Volterra, a human city, they kept apart from the humans. After all, there was no need for interaction beyond sustenance and service. These vampires, however, lived with humans. It was… unnatural. Yet from Aro's thoughts, Edward had gleaned that this coven was less than traditional.

Cool night air from the open windows whipped through his hair as his rental car sped down Highway 55 past lakes and streams and vast expanses of flat farmland. In those wide open spaces, long, lateral sprayers rained down sheets of fresh water on what would eventually be head-high cornfields. Every so often, beams of yellow light and the distant outline of a lumbering tractor caught his eye. All around, he could smell the pungent and revolting odor of freshly doused fertilizer, much of which was organic in source. It was so flat and open, and it was almost silent.

Driving through town, Edward noted the scarcity of human life. The darkened panes in the mid-forties storefronts gleamed in the pale orange light of the few street lamps, reflecting back at him as he moved past. There were no cars, no open bars, no people perusing the sidewalks. The only signs of life were in his mind, brief flickers of thoughts. Here and there, a bleary-eyed husband was watching the late night replay of the afternoon's ballgame. Somewhere to the north, he heard the crying of a hungry infant.

It was a quiet, sleepy American town, a place where his kind would surely stand out. So when he reached the long, wending drive of the address he'd memorized, Edward was vaguely surprised at just how human they seemed to be from the outside. The only distinguishing factors were that at that late hour, all the lights were on in the windows, and that their home was larger and perhaps more sumptuous than those of the surrounding area.

While it was unnecessary, he slowed the vehicle to a crawl, purposefully giving the coven fair warning of his approach. It was a nicety, a courtesy, something purely done to show that he intended no malevolence. He knew that as soon as his tires hit gravel, they would know of his presence. But unlike most of his fellow guard members, he had no interest in intimidation, had no like of it. Felix and Jane were the worst, almost barbarians in their tactics, pushing and attacking with no provocation whatsoever. They enjoyed the conflict, enjoyed inflicting pain. Unlike them, Edward simply wanted to perform his commanded duty, knowing that there was no option otherwise, and be done with it,

As he stepped out beside the door, he was greeted by the sight of four vampires, two women and two men. At the forefront was a tall, lithe vampire, the very same from Aro's memory, complete with white-blond hair and angular features. His eyes were wary and uncomfortable, but there was a smile planted across his face. He looked welcoming, pleasant even. And the tenor of his thoughts echoed Edward's assessment – further proof that this vampire was indeed the same Carlisle Cullen.

Immediately behind him was a large, burly male, one who could easily rival Felix in size and strength. His body was angled defensively, ready to crouch into attack position at a moment's notice. Thick, rippling cords of muscle flexed and twisted along his forearms. For all his strength and positioning, however, his thoughts gave away his character. Like Carlisle, this dark-haired vampire was almost gentle. His stance was purely that of protection and of fear. In his mind, Edward heard the word 'family' and then, a dozen questions seemingly hurled out at once.

Never seen him before… Doesn't look like he means harm… but I don't like the look of him… Who is he? Is he a nomad? He's too polished, too… confident…, the large one thought, taking in Edward's starched and tailored appearance.

Behind both of the males were their mates, clearly apparent from their thoughts. Carlisle's mate was yet another gentle creature, a slender woman with long, caramel-colored curls and almost soft features. Like her mate, she wore a sincere, hospitable smile, and her thoughts were those of welcome. As she appraised him, however, her brows knitted together in concern. His eyes are so red… I hope he hasn't fed… at least not nearby…

The other female was a different entity altogether. She was tall, golden-haired and curvaceous, almost ethereal even by their standards. But by her thoughts and her demeanor, she was haughty and arrogant, self-centered. Despite that, however, the thread of 'family' and concern for them spun through her mind. There was a softer, albeit protective, side to her as well.

Is he… Volturi? He has to be. Carlisle seems to recognize him… What does he want? Have we done something wrong? the tall blonde thought.

Edward quickly understood how this coven managed to hide in such plain sight. Coupled with their near perfect approximation of human mannerisms, their eyes glowed an almost honeyed-amber, very unlike the dark crimson of his own. Edward had seen the odd color in Aro's memory and had heard the explanation. But disbelieving, he had thrown it off as happenstance and rumor. Yet with four sets of such eyes staring back at him expectantly, he knew the memory to be truth. To imagine drinking from animals, bear and deer and such, was disgusting and borderline insanity. They denied the most basic tenets of their vampiric nature. They turned their backs on their own position in the natural hierarchy.

"Welcome to our home," Carlisle said in a measured voice, stepping forward. "I'm Carlisle. This is my wife, Esme." Motioning to the larger male, he continued his introduction. "And this is Emmett. And his wife, Rosalie. Would you care to come inside?"

Edward mimicked the motion, nodding respectfully and cordially. Extending his hand, he carefully replied, "Thank you, Carlisle, for your warm reception. I'm Edward."

Carlisle's brows climbed up his forehead in acknowledgment. Like most, he recognized the names of the more prominent members of the guard. Revealing his anxiety, in a very human gesture, he swallowed, as he took the proffered hand. "Ah, from Volterra, then?"

"Indeed," Edward answered, smiling reassuringly. But he understood the fear that the Volturi elicited. It was rare for a visit from the guard not to be accompanied by violence. A barrage of panicked thoughts hit his mind. "But please, don't be alarmed, Carlisle. You have nothing to fear from me. I'm here only as a courtesy and to catch up. I'm visiting the continent, and Aro asked that I drop by. He sends his warmest regards."

Four pairs of shoulders visibly relaxed as they made their way inside. As Edward walked through the foyer, it was impossible to not compare this home to the tunnels and thick, stone walls of Volterra. Where his world was dominated by darkness, here, the walls were light, airy almost. It was a contrast in the extreme.

For the next hour, sitting on pale, beige sofas and chairs, they spoke, the Cullens detailing their moves and history. It was light, conversational discussion, almost as though old friends were catching up on old times. While outwardly their tones were calm and collected, small signals showed their apprehension. Esme twiddled the hem of her skirt, and Rosalie picked at the ends of her curls. Emmett was more obvious; his muscles were still taut and ready to spring, having never relented. Equally, their minds were a maze of worrisome fears, and the longer he stayed, the more it became apparent that they all were trying not to think of someone or some ones. For Edward, it was becoming tiresome. He was not accustomed to such circuitous and trivial discussion with his kind, all in the name of civility.

"There are two more who live here, yes?" Edward asked quietly, turning the conversation. This was what he'd been sent to observe, to discover. Or at least part of it.

The moment he had walked through the door, Edward knew why Aro had sent him. In their minds, he had seen the images, and he could smell the vampire scents floating in the air, coating every surface. Mixed in with scents of almond, jasmine, cardamom, and citrus – scents of those present – there were others, fresh and clear, that were not. "They left not too long before I arrived." It was a statement rather than question.

"Yes," Carlisle answered, looking away. His thoughts were troubled, trying desperately to focus on anything but the question at hand. Yes, Carlisle knows of my talent, Edward mused. Strange, he hasn't addressed me by it.

"Don't bother trying to hide them, Carlisle. You obviously know of my gifts. I will find out anyway. Just as I said, we are merely curious. And I spoke the truth when I assured you before that I mean you no harm. You have done nothing that I can see that warrants intervention."

Edward steepled his fingers and shifted in his chair to face the others. "Now, who's missing?"

Alice.

Jasper.

"Alice and Jasper," he stated, watching their eyes widen in fear at having witnessed his mind reading first hand. "Why did they leave?"

"We don't know, Edward," Esme answered softly, glancing down at her lap and tugging at fabric. "They didn't say."

"Five hours ago?" he estimated by the strength of the scents remaining.

Carlisle looked back and met his eyes, amber to crimson. "Approximately, yes. Why do you search for them?"

"I don't. I would have liked to have met them. I'm intrigued that they seemed to have vanished just on the eve of my arrival. It's coincidental. Did anyone receive a call?"

At that moment, at that particular query, he was granted his answer. He saw image after image of a small, thin vampire with short, inky black hair, her brows angled in concentration as her fists gripped the back of the very sofa he occupied. Alice. Golden eyes stared off into space in some disconnected reverie, seeing sights unseen and hearing sounds unheard. Her lips trembled and she spoke in vague descriptions of yet-to-have-happened events. Beside her was her mate, Jasper by name. Where she was petite and almost fragile in appearance, he was tall and lean, almost as if cut from rock. Light glittered off a thousand crescent-shaped scars littering his skin. And in his eyes, Edward saw knowledge and experience. But he also saw understanding, and through the memories of this coven he saw his gift.

"So, you have a future teller and an empath. I can perhaps see why you would not want to share that information. Especially with me."

The Volturi collect, the blonde snapped mutely, likely without intention.

Edward's brow raised, but he made no effort to argue. It was true, and no doubt, the moment Aro heard of these additions to Carlisle's coven, he would scheme and find a way to lure them to Volterra to add them to his chest of treasures. Or worse, Aro would come take them himself. Those acquisitions were never without violence. But Aro could never resist the potential to command this Alice if the thoughts he'd heard were truly accurate. Part of him wanted to forget what he'd learned, allow this harmless coven to go on in their gentle existence. But it was a pointless desire; Edward had a task to perform, an obligation to his masters.

"They did not tell you where they were going? Or if they would return?"

"No," Carlisle answered, his eyes pleading. "They went hunting and never returned."

"I see. Do you have any suspicions or ideas as to why they would depart so swiftly? Without telling you? Why they would not want to be here when I arrived? Other than the obvious? Do they know something I should know?" Edward demanded, an edge surfacing in his cool façade.

Silence erupted in the room. But their thoughts were frantic, screaming almost, flipping through complex mathematical algorithms and multilingual translations, all in efforts to hide.

Edward stilled in the way only vampires could, staring directly at Carlisle. "Please, Carlisle, don't make me ask again. I like you. I do not want to escalate this any more than necessary. But I have a job to do," he warned.

To his left, a single, frightened voice faltered, fumbling under the intensity of his scrutiny.

Bella.

.

.

A/N:

Again, thank you to Ms. Camilla10 for helping fix my pitiable Italian. Verbs are not my thing ;)

Scusi. Dov'è il check-in per il volo settecento ventuno? – Excuse me. Where's the check in for flight 712?

Il Check in è qui – It's here.

Grazie al cielo! Ho appena perso – Thank goodness! I thought I was lost.

Come si chiama? Posso vedere il suo passaporto? – What's your name? May I see your passport.

E' in viaggio per affari? O una vacanza? – Are you traveling for business? Or on vacation?

Purtroppo per affair. Mi dispiace…Signora… Carolina? Vado di fretta – Unfortunately, for business. I'm sorry… Ms. Carolina? I'm in a hurry.

Si! Certo! Presto! Ha solo dieci minuti fino alla partenza! Vada subito all'uscita numero ventinove! – Yes! Certainly. Hurry. You only have 10 minutes until departure. Go to gate number 29!

Molte grazie – Thank you very much.