Hope everyone had a Happy New Year! As always, I love comments and would be happy to answer any questions you have about the story line as it develops.
Chapter 4: Temptation
Carlisle
My eyes sped across the page of my new journal, examining the American Medical Association's commentary. Disapprovingly I read the strident arguments against physicians working in the new organizations they were beginning to call 'health maintenance organizations, created to manage the needs of the destitute across the country. Noting the growing shadows in my study, I absentmindedly turned on a light unnecessary to my eyes, a habit grown out of centuries of human behavior observation. I thoroughly disagreed with the argument, drumming my fingers against the worn leather of my favorite chair in annoyance at their stance. In the midst of so much turmoil, was it so much to ask for guaranteed care for the populace that needed it most? The faces of the women and children I had encountered at the free clinic at which I volunteered swam before my eyes. Many suffered from illnesses I could easily cure, though lack of funds diverted to free medical care and refusal from the local government had wrought me helpless, unable to provide any but the most basic care to these desperate souls.
Esme stood with me in anonymously providing food and money to assuage the physical and economic pain that so many in our area were facing, but we had to tread carefully so as to not draw too much attention. Just the other day another physician at the clinic demanded to know from where the newest shipment of aspirin had come, refusing to accept my premise of a donation from one of the city's wealthy denizens. I had managed to remove myself from the situation discreetly so as to not draw attention, but knew that from now on, we would have to be more careful in our assistance. The need for subtlety infuriated me with the health and lives of so many on the line. Would it not be so much easier to just openly give money to the poor? I sighed. Even I knew this was not possible, given the scrutiny that would inevitably come to our door. No, it was better to proceed in secret actions, in spite of the medical establishment's disagreement. A greater need could be met with my continued assistance, no matter how secretly it was given.
Esme's light tap on the door interrupted my frustrated musings. "Carlisle?"
"Come in my love," I smiled, eagerly putting the aggravating text aside. I opened my arms to her, looking for the comfort her embrace provided. She surprised me, however, by staying near the door, shifting her weight between feet, a nervous habit.
"What's wrong?" I said quickly, more alert as I took in the uncertainty on her face.
"Oh, it's probably nothing," she said quickly, clearly responding to the tension in my face. "It's just that... Edward is late. Quite a few hours actually."
I thought back to the past few hours. I had come home directly from the hospital, nearly as excited as Edward was to depart for a calmer atmosphere away from the demands of the city and wanting to take him out of the way of temptation as soon as possible. As soon as I had reached the hospital exit, I had realized our trip would be delayed. Never had I been as grateful for the luxury of indoor parking as when I realized the sun had broken through the heavy cloud cover. I carefully chose the most shaded route home, watching apprehensively as the sky continued to clear. Reaching our house, I realized that Edward had not had a chance to return and resigned myself to waiting until nighttime to depart.
"I'm sure it's nothing, my dear," I said, smiling again. "He is likely being held captive at the school by the sun. I'm sure he'll return as soon as it has set, in the next half hour or so." We must choose schools more carefully next time, I thought, reviewing my observations on the geography surrounding Edward's prestigious school. I had not thought to account for the possibility of sunny days, but it would certainly be a concern the next time we moved.
"I am sure he was waiting, but something doesn't feel right," she said, unappeased. "It is low enough now that he should be able to make it home in the shadows without risking exposure. What if something happened the last day? Perhaps one of his teachers suspected him. Or, there is always the possibility that...temptation got to him. Maybe it was too soon to send him back to school." She finished guiltily.
"Come now, Esme," I chided her softly, rising from my chair to stand in front of her. "You know Edward has superb self-control, and will stop himself from any regretful action. And he, of all of us, will know the best course of action should any of his teachers be suspicious."
I wrapped her in my arms. "I know you still worry about him, but you must let him act as he will. We can only give him freedom and hope that he will choose the correct course of action."
"I know you're right," she responded, sighing into my chest. "But I can't help from feeling that there is still something missing for him. Even as open and joyful as he has been in the past few months, there is still a sadness, a wanting behind his eyes." She pulled her face away to smile up at me sadly. "Perhaps he is only lacking what we have to make him truly happy."
"I am so lucky to have you," I responded, kissing her softly. Her smooth lips felt like silk on mine, causing me to deepen the kiss. A low moan escaped from Esme's voice as she fit her body closer to mine, distracted by the growing presence of our need for each other. Did we have enough time before Edward came home to fulfill our desires? My mind quickly calculated through haze of want that was beginning to overtake me. No, as much as I wanted her, there was the chance that Edward would come home at any time. I gently pulled away, kissing her once more gently. I would not let his eagerly anticipated summer vacation start with visions of Esme and I that embarrassed both him and me. I had been eagerly anticipating this summer's vacation as well.
"Not right now," I said gently, stepping away. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Edward could soon be home," I replied, kissing her brow. Esme returned my smile in understanding.
"I know!" she responded, clearly attempting to divert her own train of thoughts. "Well, maybe you can go meet him, then. I'm sure he will be frustrated to be so long inside when he could be on vacation. It is almost like having a human young man, anxious to escape from school."
I chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Pushing me away so soon?" I teased softly. She swatted my shoulder softly in return. "Alright, I will go meet him. Be ready to go to the lake house when we return!" I kissed her again quickly and then ran out the door.
"Already am!" she called after me, setting a smile on my face as I entered the wood toward the school, following Edward's trail.
Edward
Oh, the uprights on that dish! I was ready to take her right there!Royce King's mind screamed as he and his band of wealthy, ruthless young men lounged in the third floor teachers' study. For the past few hours, while the sun had continued its relentless path across the sky, alone in a now cloudless sky, I had had to listen to the bragging superiority of these boys. One school year had been quite enough. I was ready to make my escape as soon as the sun set completely.
Do you think any teachers are still around? Walter Scibner, the gang's scrawny sidekick, asked nervously. The others looked at him disdainfully. They had only given him access to their group of honor due to his family's illegal alcohol business, and were clearly now regretting it, despite the box of gin and whiskey that Walter had snuck from the hidden compartment in his basement.
Walter shriveled under their glares but continued meekly. What if someone saw us and called the police? Happiness at being included in the antics of these most well known sons of Rochester had been replaced by nervousness about the unknown nature of tonight's celebrations. The school board took break-ins seriously, he knew, heart thudding loudly at the thought of police intervention. Any investigation into his family would reveal the deep roots of their alcohol trade that would surely put his father behind bars, and destroy his family's main source of income.
Why Walter? Ralph Bausch, the son of John Jacob Bausch's old age, and heir to the Bausch and Lamb spectacles fortune, sneered down at the kid. Are you going to call the coppers? That would make you a snitch. You know what we do to snitches, don't you?Ralph's six and a half foot tall stature enabled him to tower over the smaller boy, envisioning with pleasure the idea of beating Walter senseless, and then continuing to finish the job. His fists flexed in anticipation.
Don't blow your wig. Royce interjected from the prime seat at the window with his feet up on the marred chestnut table. Even if they show up, a sawbuck and a few snipes will get you off free and clear. My father taught me that. He smirked confidently, pulling an embossed silver cigarette case from his pocket. He selected one carefully before lighting it with an ivory lighter and blowing smoke into the air. Royce controlled the other boys with an ease that belied his comfort in wealth. He reveled in the power his wealth held and disdained the less rich who were, in his eyes, not worthy of existence. Tonight isn't a night to be scared of consequences, I saw him grin in the minds of the other young men as he leaned forward to pick up a bottle of bootleg gin. Tonight is a night for celebration! To being at the top of the world!
He lifted his bottle in the air as the others rushed to join him, noisily toasting each other in the light of the setting sun.
As I watched the sun finally go down through their eyes, I stood up silently, deducing an opportunity to make my getaway. I would leave them to their drunken revelry and finally get the freedom for which I yearned away from their maddening thoughts and temptation to stop their stream of consciousness. I stood silently and made my way to the heavy metal doors.
Now where's Jack? Royce's thoughts again intruded on my own, but it was not their casual tone that caught my attention.
Royce was thinking of Jack Gannett, the newspaper tycoon's son, and the plan for the evening. My fists clenched, shredding the fragile book in my hands as I saw their proposed entertainment to celebrate their upcoming graduation. Jack was evidently paying off some thugs to pick up a young woman in the Hooverville and bring her to the school for the crew's entertainment. Except for Walter, each of the men was planning for tonight and reliving lewd, horrifying scenes from their memories of past victims.
I hope she's a brunette, like the last one, Clark Williams II, the son of another Rochester bank tycoon chuckled, remembering tearing her hair while the others had their way with her. Unconsciously I tore apart the rest of the book, enraged at their casual cruelty.
I'm just excited to get my hands on the dame. We'll have ourselves a regular clam-bake!Ralph hooted, while the others joined in, Walter laughing nervously, unsure what was meant by the current banter.
I was ready to launch myself out of the library and dispatch these miserable ingrates when a new mental voice suddenly intruded, the only voice that could pull me back to myself.
Edward? Carlisle's voice called out to me. I could see him running through the nearby forest in the deepening night, worried that he could not trace a new scent and that I was still in school. I came to meet you, but do not see you anywhere outside. It is dark enough to come out. When he didn't hear a response, he continued until at the boundary of the school's field. Is everything alright, son?
I growled softly, my breath quickening as my body was divided between the pull of Carlisle's voice, and the need gathering in my muscles to destroy the despicable minds of the boys above me.
Sensitive ears picking up my muted response, Carlisle sped his pace across the dark field and quickly made it to the school. Pushing open the janitor's door, broken from the intruders, he called out to me.
Edward? Where are you son?I growled softly in response, muscles locked in indecision. I could easily attack before Carlisle reached me, but his worry for me held me back. In my mind desire and reason battled. He found me before I could summon myself to decide. His hand gently grasped my tense upper arms, looking into my distant, furious eyes.
What is it, Edward? What's wrong?The clattering of a bottle caught both of our attention as he focused on listening to the loud voices upstairs. He did not recognize the voices but registered their high level of intoxication.
Who?He turned his attention to me, confused at the anger in my eyes and stance.
"Royce King" I spat through clenched teeth. Comprehension dawned in his eyes as he recognized my anger.
"What are they doing?" He said, forcing himself speak calmly and relax his body instead of reacting to my aggressive stance.
"Planning" I spat out again. "What they are planningto do." I didn't trust my self restraint to continue, but he pushed.
Tell me, Edward. His hands tightened around my arms, in restraint or anger, as I communicated the nefarious plan of the creatures just a few floors above, dwelling on Royce's mental glee over the thought of doing violence. His face grew pained, horrified at the notion that he had done this to others as well. I told him the darkest goals of the intended attackers, hoping to spur him to action, to somehow justify my own warring emotions.
However, as I finished, I could read his reactions as acutely as my own, and they slanted in an entirely different direction. His belief in the necessity to save lives outweighed the anger he felt at their planned actions. He would do what he could to stop them, but would not allow harm to befall them in the meantime.
"Did you hear what said?" I growled at him, unable to comprehend his calm when I was aching to kill.
"I am perfectly capable of hearing you, Edward," he snapped back, belying the torment in his thoughts. I knew he was disturbed by their thoughts and their history.
"How can you not want them to die when they have so disgustingly abused others? They have no accountability! Even the police turn a blind eye and refuse to suspect their involvement!" I raged at him, slightly too loudly. There was a pause in the upstairs conversation as they heard my voice. I listened closely, almost eager for them to come down and explore in order to avenge the deaths of the helpless. After a moment they dismissed the noise, all except Walter who was getting more nervous by the minute.
When Carlisle spoke, he spoke with quiet conviction, repeating words he had often repeated to me. "We cannot play God, Edward. If we decide to take the lives of those who have done wrong, where is the line? When do you stop and how do you decide what is enough? When do we become the evil we seek to destroy?" He looked into my eyes, willing me to understand his point of view, to see the divide.
In his eyes, I saw reflected the expression on my face, the rage that was helpless against reason. It held a shadow of another reflection. A reflection of my face two years ago, shining from a window in Los Angeles as I hunted my next victim. It was a face that haunted me nightly. There had been only torment in my eyes, desperation to find meaning in the hunt, to feel something other than despair when I finally satisfied my body's craving for blood. My eyes were empty, soulless. I had made a deal with myself that night, curled into a ball sobbing against the rough concrete, that the reflection I saw was not who I could be. That if I could only make it back to Carlisle, there was a chance I could be happy again. In his eyes I saw the happiness of the past few months, times when I felt peaceful, cared for, loved. Could I give that all up for my own twisted sense of justice?
I knew I could not. I exhaled the breath I had been holding, caught up in the tension. Feeling my release, Carlisle moved his hands to my shoulders, relief and pride in his face as he read my changed stance, the draining rage in my eyes. I forced my fists to relax, grabbing on to his arms.
"Help me," I rasped, still fighting the anger that built as the words flying upstairs echoed in my mind.
Nodding once, Carlisle shifted his position to wrap one arm under my arms, as if I was a lame child needing assistance. Keeping the arm tight around my back, I allowed him to lead me as we ran out of the dark library and through the dark hallways, emerging into the humid night air. All the way home, he kept his arm around me, sending me thoughts only of pride and support, keeping me sane as part of my mind demanded I return to do justice and pulling me in the other direction.
As I regained my reason, I still fought against the horror of the situation. These men who would go free were evil people. Though I could not be the one to destroy them, did that mean they would always live in privilege, sheltered from the evil they produced?
Their thoughts faded away into the purple black of the night and my internal battles were eclipsed by a suddenly overwhelming emotion from my father. His pride in me was profound. No matter what my actions had been, what I was prepared to do still, he recognized the difference in the boy I had been and the man I was becoming. The sole action of me walking away from the evil had illustrated what my minor actions over the past months could not, that I accepted his way of thinking and path in life, and that I truly did trust him. He had never been more proud of me than he was in this moment.
I reveled in the praise emanating from his thought, unsuccessfully attempting to avoid the shame that I felt for thinking such murderous thought. Whatever he said, or thought, how could I truly have moved on or be deserving of his praise when I was still a killer at core?
With Carlisle still holding me tightly, we ran the final few yards to where Esme's concerned face shone through the window, panic registering in her thoughts as she noted my compromised body in Carlisle's arms.
"What happened?" She said frantically as we entered the door, searching me with her eyes and hands as she looked for a wound. "Others?" She looked sharply at Carlisle for an explanation.
"Not others," I explained quietly, extricating myself from Carlisle's supportive arms.
"The young Royce King and his friends were in the school as Edward waited," Carlisle continued, relating the thoughts and plans of the young men as I had communicated them to him. As he spoke, Esme's expression turned from one of anxious concern to outrage and then to pity for their helpless victims. Her experiences at the hands of her human husband rose to mind. Despite her many good years with Carlisle, the fear and helplessness that she felt when faced her former husband's anger manifested itself in pity and sadness that others still suffered in the same way. Her dim memories again brought my anger to the forefront.
As he spoke, he evaluated me carefully, mind alert at any possibility that I would take off in pursuit of the men. Shame surged in my chest at my own weakness. It was as though I was a newborn again, with my father on watch for any lapse in judgment.
My father finished by explaining my role in the story, his pride emanating through his voice as he explained my return to reason, my rejection of the hunt. Esme's eyes turned to me, shining in love at my accomplishment. She took my hand, squeezing it gently in sympathy at my suffering, but proud of me nonetheless.
She then turned to what she saw as the most pressing matter at hand. "Is there anything we can do to help the poor girl?" Esme pled. "Edward, do not doubt that I believing you acted correctly in leaving the young men alone, but Carlisle, surely there must be a way to avoid this ordeal."
Carlisle pondered this for a moment, examining the situation in his mind as he considered places in which he could intervene to save her. He talked through his developing strategy aloud while I filled in the few details I knew of their plan and Esme provided practical information to assist him. While I was frustrated that it did not fully punish the perpetrators, I was satisfied that, at the very least, they would be frightened by the police intervention, and the hired thugs would no longer pose a threat to the Hooverville inhabitants.
As he prepared to leave I volunteered to assist him. He shook his head gently in response. "It would not be right to put you in such a position of temptation, son" Carlisle responded, compassion in his eyes. "But perhaps while I am away you and Esme can make arrangements to move the holiday we had planned for later this winter. It would be nice to be away from the area for a few weeks."
"What a wonderful idea!" Esme replied, suddenly enthused at the prospect of a new adventure and eager to distract me from the unpleasantness. Now that there was a plan to save the girl, Esme was happy to turn to new beginnings, and plan a wonderful summer vacation that distracted us all from the city teeming with violence and crime.
Anger still raged in my heart until Carlisle's thoughts caught my attention.
Edward, he looked into my eyes, easily reading the rage in my face. Please let it go, son. It is time to again be part of the family.
Sighing, I nodded at Carlisle. As always my father was right. Though the plans of Royce King tried to push me to action, I accepted that I had made a choice. I would not break this family apart again in my desire for revenge.
Smiling, I turned to Esme, who already had a notebook of plans in front of her. No matter the sacrifice I felt I had to make, love was worth it.
*For notes on meanings of Slang words, see here:
