Chapter Six - Cassandra

Three months later I stood stone still, positioned in a corner of my motel room in Amarillo, curtains drawn, hiding like a rat confined to its hole at the hint of day break. The space was a disarray of newspapers and maps. My spirit had dwindled down to a mere spark of what it had once been – I should say, it was more or less the same spirit I held for this world before I met her. The time had passed quickly, but with no less effect on my vigour, than if it had been centuries.

It was clear within only a few days of endless searching that the effort would be draining, with each night's influx of random human thoughts spilling out over my mind and the days spent in retreat in some less than ideal accommodation only to avoid the relentless sunshine. I tried to make use of the time by studying maps and planning the route for the following day.

I had spent the time looking for any thought that may lead me to Victoria. However, there was a distinct disadvantage to my particular talent, that being; it was only relevant to the present tense. I could not capture memories or thoughts from the past unless they were in the present mind. If Victoria had indeed moved on, the chance of her appearing in any thoughts were limited to the probability a source may reflect on a recent event where she was involved, and I would have to come upon this source, within the range of my powers, at the exact moment they were thinking of her. Without this extraordinary sequence of events, there could be no connection.

A few weeks of filtering through thousands of minds in the quest for one arbitrary clue, something I had not attempted before, proved an enormous challenge, one that I had to consider I may even fail. Images bombarded my head as I raced from location to location trying to cover the area in vast loops, circling outward from a chosen centre point like radar. The illusive target drew me from the edges of Texas bordered by the Gulf and neighbouring States to the inner most core cities and back again. By the end of the first month I was exhausted – a feeling I hadn't encountered in over eighty years – discouraged and often laid out on the sagging, soiled mattress of a rundown, hotel room bed, unable to summon a single hint of new strategy from my weary mind.

The days saturated with sunshine following each night's searches did little to repair my steadily deteriorating condition.

Much to my surprise, the South did not live up to its reputation earned in my world. In all these weeks I had not encountered a single vampire. There was nothing to suggest they had even occupied the area. Either the clans had slowly killed each other off, or they had retreated into Louisiana and Mexico. This was bad news. If I didn't get a direct hit on Victoria's whereabouts, I was counting on a connection with a few of my own kind who would certainly know if she had ever been in Texas mingling in their circles. But from what my best efforts at tracking had uncovered thus far, I was no closer to learning the whereabouts of Victoria. Worse still, I had no idea how long it had been since any vampire had hunted in these lands and wondered if Irina's account of Laurent's movements with Victoria were accurate. Nevertheless, like a drone, I continued looking.

It was a fruitless task and by the time I had reached Amarillo, I struggled with the purpose of it all, wallowing in self pity, fighting constantly against the selfish need to return to Forks, escape my obvious failure and greedily reclaim the meaning to my existence. My resolve was renewed every time I envisioned Victoria anywhere near Bella, who by now I told myself, had resumed a normal human life and was likely relieved to have been freed from the constant threat of death.

I glanced over at the digital clock on the bedside table, the third digit flickering back and forth from an eight to a three, mesmerising me for a good portion of the afternoon.

6:33.

Soon, I would be free to roam outside again and continue the search. Maybe tonight would be different. Probably not.

On what I was planning to be my last night in Texas, I ventured from the motel at dusk on a feeding mission. The golden amber of my eyes had faded weeks ago and my strength along with it. I should clarify; the strength I refer to here was both physical, and my unyielding resistance to human blood. Since I would be, in less than twelve hours, cooped up once again in a plane full of humans to a destination as yet I had not decided, it was prudent for me to hunt.

There was no large game to satisfy my needs, so a few stray cats, a goat, and as an experiment, two lizards started off the evenings' gourmet delights. I forced down the meagre blood rations of about a dozen small rodents and was then officially turned off from the endeavour to secure a meal.

I returned my attention to the more pressing search for Victoria. Tonight I would cover the distance to the west of Amarillo from Vega to the Kiowa Grasslands in a loop. There wasn't much civilization in this area, so I was prepared to make quick work of it and double back over a previously surveyed area.

Just on the edge of town, about an hour into the evenings search detail, the image I had not seen since it's first appearance sitting in the back seat of a cab three months ago, splashed across my mind. This in itself was not so unusual. I had seen the photograph countless times then. But now, the Press had moved on to more lucrative stories than the missing Pino couple and aside from the articles consuming the front page of every newspaper at the time the search was called off, there had not been any new news since.

So why was I seeing the image now?

I focused hard on the source. More images of the couple appeared, only I was certain these had not been published anywhere. Was this a relative? Someone close to them, sorting through memories of the couple in a weakened moment? I was extremely curious, the reason for my attraction uncertain to me at that moment. My eyes closed and I stood erect, as I deepened my concentration. Within half a second I was in flight, honing in, running three more miles north-west I came to rest in a mostly deserted strip of buildings strung along the roadway.

Then, a flash of red hair and a fusion of fear and anger emanated from the source.

My intrigue turned frantic as I grew anxious with the possibility of losing the source. I reeled around from my position uncertain of the direction to proceed. It was close, so close I could feel it, as if the thoughts were my own. I needed something else, a small clue and then it came to me, roughly two miles from my location, a neon sign identical to the logo adorning a coaster being lazily flipped between two fingers.

Music, shouting and dim lights emanated from a dilapidated structure. A restaurant bar. In between bouts of callous laughter and indignant conversation came the sounds of crisp shocks from the bottom of glasses and bottles returning to table tops. I was in the right place. The thoughts, strong and vivid, were coming from someone inside – a woman – in her mind I could see her hand holding a ragged newspaper clipping. She was sitting at the bar; the mirrored glass behind half empty liquor bottles lining the rear wall provided a warbled reflection of her own face as she occasionally glanced upward.

Hiding in the shadows I moved along the buildings on the opposite side of the road for a closer look. In one leap I cleared the roadway and ended perched on the rooftop of an adjacent gas station. I needed to take the time to scope out the area before making any further moves.

Suddenly I reeled backward throwing my right arm forward in a defensive motion while Victoria's face, crystal clear, hovered in front of my eyes. It was over in half a second. Realizing it was just an image I regained my composure, feeling innately foolish for the physical reaction seeing her face had ignited. The woman in the bar knew Victoria, this was obvious to me now, and it was somehow all related to the Pino's.

Another much shorter leap and I repositioned myself on the edge of the gas bar canopy for a clear view of the front doors of the bar.

The run down facility was adorned with strung lighting in the form of jalapeño peppers, fulfilling its tacky charm and the main sign was half lit, illuminating only S-H-T-B-A, but was meant to read SHOOTER BAR. Very original. There was no way to see into the establishment except through the main doors one of which was propped open. There were only three windows each adorned with a generous coat of spray paint and shaped long and rectangular, positioned at the top of the exterior barn board clad walls.

I watched intently as a grossly muscular male pace back and forth from the front stoop to just inside the propped door. He lit a cigarette, gave a loud snort, cleared his throat and spit out a large wad of saliva onto the gravel. Possibly the hired security. Hopefully I can get past him without incident, I thought. I wasn't in the mood for breaking any limbs tonight; I just wanted to speak with the woman.

After approximately an hour of uneventful surveillance – the muscle removed two drunks, relieved himself on the tires of a parked Pick-up and smoked at least eight cigarettes - and having no further images of Victoria relayed from the woman or anyone else inside, I was confident Victoria was not actually in the building and crept down from the heights to ground level.

In the parking lot in one instantaneous move I tipped a row of motorcycles like dominos to distract the muscle while he up righted the machines, and returned to the cleared entryway to the bar. I spotted the woman sitting at the opposite end of the bar through the dense smoke filled air, our eyes met, as if she was expecting me, but I was unable to approach.

In that moment, I felt large firm hands grasp my shoulders accompanied by the laboured breathing of a sweaty, cigar wielding heat source.

I stood tall, just over six feet, broad shouldered with an athletic quality to my build, but as a human, would have been no match for this man. Rather than hold my position and watch him flounder while he attempted to move my stone anchored legs, I allowed myself to be manipulated backward and turned to be shoved through the doorway out onto the gravel lot.

I calmly dusted myself off and faced back to see that a collection of men had gathered outside. The muscle was there, having been the one who dragged me outside. A larger, rounder, heavy set male holding the cigar and a much thinner version of himself, twitching nervously beside him, stood in the forefront of the balance of the men.

The large one spoke. "You some kinda' Neew Yoork celebrity or som'thin? Ya got that pretty boy make-up 'n eye contacts, eh kid?" He paused while he took a draw from his cigar. I noticed one of his fat fingers was being strangled by a thick gold ring. I looked at him blankly, without saying a word. He blew smoke rings into the air and cackled, half laughing, half coughing, saying, "Think you can git yourself som action daown 'ere do ya?"

He was still ten feet away, but in his breath I could smell the beer and burger he ate at some point in the day, maybe for breakfast.

Repulsive.

I was impressed however, as this spokesperson for the group was exceptionally observant for a man of his – calibre.

"Hey Angel!" The skinny sidekick yelled out. "Let's jist git on with a beatn'." He was practically drooling while waiting for the opportunity.

The threat didn't warrant any reaction from me. I could kill all seven of them before the message was sent from their brains to their fists, but I for a moment hoped that they could actually do me harm. One blow for every tear she has shed. I wouldn't be able to find out, as we were interrupted.

"Hey boys, I can take care of this one, he's just a pup. Let him go." The woman from the bar spoke confidently as she approached.

Getting a better look at her, I was immediately aware that something was not quite right about this woman. It wasn't her overall appearance; she was dressed fairly close to what one might expect in this type of -establishment, a corset one size too small, fish net stockings slightly torn, ankle boots worn in the heels and all the imitation leather imaginable. She was pulling off a "rough around the edges" look with her attire, but her face, her features, were perfect. She strode toward me.

"Goin' after the young ones isn't your usual trick, Cassy," the large one referred to as Angel, observed. He spit a leaf of tobacco from his cigar to the ground.

She just smiled back at the men with a sneer and I allowed her to take my arm and lead me away. The men scuffled amongst themselves, clearly disappointed with the intercepted brawl, but eventually disbanded.

We walked toward the rear parking lot and upon reaching a midnight black 1967 Mustang, she moved to open the driver's side and said, "Get in," gesturing towards the passenger door.

I obliged, but had to ask, "Where are we going?" as her thoughts were consumed with curiosity for me and did not reveal anything about her intentions.

With her door open she placed her hand on the hood of the car. "We're headed nowhere in particular. How about a leisurely drive along Route 66?" she said calmly and ducked into the seat.

I tried even harder to hear her thoughts, but again came up with only her suspicions regarding myself.

I settled into the passenger seat. "May I at least have your proper name?" I asked. She turned the key, the chain was adorned with a curious clear vile of crimson liquid, and the engine roared to life.

"My name is Cassandra, but you can call me Caz for short. I don't like Cassy, but I tolerate it," she smiled and glanced in my direction just before stepping on the gas.

And there it was again, the odd feeling that Cassandra was hiding something. I still didn't know why she had the image of Victoria's face in her head, but more than that, she held an aura about her that was making me uncomfortable for all the wrong reasons. I should have sensed her blood, but there was nothing to tempt my thirst even with her heart beating steady and strong.

"And you are?" she asked.

"Edward, and there is no 'for short'".

"Hmmm, I like a man who is confident", she flipped her jet black mane of hair onto her left shoulder, clearing my view of her face. "What brings you out to this little pocket of heaven tonight, Edward?" Her eyes stared straight ahead as she spoke and her lips formed a wide smile.

"I'm looking for some information." I said.

She looked to be considering that for a moment, but said nothing. Her mind held only questions.

I continued. "There is...someone I'm trying to reconnect with. A woman."

"Can you be a little more specific?" she asked.

"Her name is Victoria. She is ...," I tried to think of the best way to describe her to a human, "... very striking, with brilliant red hair, and I think she was in Texas over the summer months." I was being vague for now, hoping that her memories would reveal to me more as they came.

But I wasn't expecting this.

"So how long have you been dead?" she asked.

It was abundantly clear in that instant, she knew exactly what I was, only I was completely in the dark as to how.

There was an uncomfortable pause. Then, "Cassandra, can I trust you?" I asked.

Her eyes flittered in my direction. "I would think that you've learned by now that trust is pretty much a dirty word in our circles, but yeah...you can trust me," she smiled the wide smile again.

"You just said 'our' circles. Are you telling me that you and I are the same... thing?" I asked hesitantly.

"Go'n on a hundred'n fifty years myself," she announced proudly.

"But you have heart beat!" I said suspiciously, "and I can't smell you!" I blurted out.

"A little trick I learned. Keeps me out'a trouble. I don't know exactly how it happened; I just started doing it one day." And as she said the words the heartbeat stopped and a distinct vampire scent wafted through the air in my direction.

I just stared at her with my mouth slightly open. Until that moment, she was entirely human.

She appeared accustomed to the stunned look on my face, her expression was flat.

Cassandra broke the silence. "From what I can remember of being human, I had a powerful way of attracting men, and even some women. In college, one of my professors told me 'my pheromones were the strongest' he had ever known. I thought it was ridiculous, just another scientific theory good for the text books. That, or a really bad pick-up line", she laughed at herself. "When this happened," she waved her hand across her body, "I discovered a way to mask my scent. I've been blending in ever since."

"And the heartbeat?" I asked, still amazed.

"Oh yah, that. Well, I was a bit of an athlete before the transformation. I had exceptional muscle control. I guess that carried over too. I can make my heart muscle move."

"That's extraordinary!" I stared down at my knees while I tried in vain to locate and move my own stone heart. My body replied with a familiar ache emanating from my broken chest cavity. Frustrated, I gave up and remembered the conversation.

"What do you hunt?" I asked, having noticed her unusual milky grey irises surrounding by a thin pink line.

"A little bit of this, 'n a little bit of that," she said. "Mostly I pluck from the cesspool you saw back there. Humans, animals, they're all fair game. " She hesitated and then clarified, "I think of myself as more a cleaner."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"I only kill humans that seem to be...asking for it, ya know?" The corner of her mouth turned up in a grin.

By now we had driven to an area that was practically void of any civilization. I didn't know if I should be utterly tense, or just sit back and relax. It was odd that Cassandra was the reason behind the uneasy feeling.

I looked to the horizon, it was almost daybreak, the edge of the earth glowing like a line of embers. Our cloak of darkness was about to end abruptly.

As if answering my unspoken question, Cassandra said, "There is a place we can go not far from here. I'll take you there. We'll be...safe."

We had passed into New Mexico and were nearing the Sante Fe National Forest when Cassandra decided it was time to stash the car and continue on foot. We pulled off the main interstate onto a gravel road leading north. Not far along, a small abandoned barn appeared in the distance. She had been here before; it was clear she was familiar with the location. Cassandra stopped the car and left it running, while she slid out the open window, crossed the short distance to the barn and pulled back the large panel door, revealing its empty interior.

I got out of the car, swiftly glancing around to ensure we were alone, as the suns beams were inflicting their usual strobe like effect to my skin. Cassandra pulled the mustang into the barn and returned the door to its closed position.

"So what now?" I said curiously.

"You said you needed some information, and... I know something about this woman you call Victoria." I hate her more than the demon that took my life, she thought. "Run with me this way, I need you to see. We're heading toward the park mountains just there." She pointed in the direction.

On our way, I caught glimpses from Cassandra's thoughts as she remembered the route, remembered conversations with Victoria and a specific memory of a pile of ash that appeared and reappeared as the memories flowed in and out of her mind. The ash immediately stirred my already deepening curiosity. Was the ash the remains of Victoria? Could I be this lucky? Or was Cassandra not to be trusted? Could she be envisioning what was to become of me after she lead me into a trap? My wild thoughts continued as we sped toward the mysterious destination.

Within five miles we ascended the mountain and arrived at the summit, affording a clear south westerly view of the cross thatch of farmlands quilting Texas.

"Come, swiftly! There are a lot of hikers up this way, we need to get out of sight!" Cassandra said.

I looked around wondering where it was exactly we were supposed to be getting into. There was nothing except a sharp vertical rock face in one direction, and the rolling hills and trees from where we'd came in the other.

"Help me with this," Cassandra was pushing on the rock. I pushed. The rock that had appeared to be solid was actually a large boulder, roughly the size of a single car garage, and our joined force moved it ever so slightly away from the rest of the mountain to reveal a cave opening.

My eyes adjusted quickly to the cavern void of any natural light, save the crack we forced ourselves through. Inside I was distracted only temporarily by the scattered flecks of bent light reflecting from exposed minerals lining the walls before Cassandra urged me on.

"Down here! This is what you need to see," and she jumped out of my site into a large opening in the rock floor.

For the second time in my long life I felt cautious, and I hesitated. The only other time this occurred was upon my return to Forks last January, my potential lack of self control the primary reason. Here now, my vigilance was selflessly not for my own safety, but knowing that the next decision I made could lead me to death, had me concerned for Bella's well being. If I were to die, how could I protect her?

I peered into the blackness below my feet. Cassandra's voice echoed from below.

"There's no elevator. Just jump!" she called.

Her thoughts were genuine, so I leapt into the hole. The rock walls sped furiously past me as my body descended into the darkness. I tensed all limbs ready for impact. My fingers curled in anticipation of a necessary grasp, but after a 200ft drop, I landed quite softly onto a sandy bottom.

"Took you long enough. I guess I should respect your lack of trust. But after I share my story with you, I think you'll feel different about me." Cassandra smiled and brushed dirt from my left shoulder.

It was a cool damp space, which I knew because the atmosphere felt comfortable and only could, if it held the same characteristics as my skin. There was no exit except from where we had just fallen. The center of the room housed a crude rock formation resembling a fire pit, with the same pile of ash I had seen in Cassandra's memories earlier. At once, her thoughts flooded my brain and she spoke the words to compliment them.

"It was last summer when I met Victoria. She came into Texas like a storm...