What if the Cullens weren't the first immortals that Bella met? What if she had an encounter with a more transitory immortal while she was in Phoenix? One that had a history with Caius…
Stephenie Meyer owns the original story, of course. I am just playing with the characters.
Chapter 7 – Carlisle's story
Edward has taken Bella to his house to meet his family.
We finally leave the piano bench and go upstairs. On the second floor, Edward first points out Jasper and Alice's room, and then Emmett and Rosalie's room.
We go up another flight, and he shows me Carlisle's office. Carlisle is in his office, working at a large desk that serves as the focal point of the room. The walls of the office are covered with artwork, including fine oil paintings, etchings, and watercolors. There are also small statues places around the room, works in bronze and stone.
Carlisle looks up when Edward knocks on his door and smiles at us. He gestures for us to come in. He sits behind his desk without moving and seems to be watching me closely. I'm starting to get some tugging from inside again. I do my best to mask it with a smile.
Edward asks Carlisle to tell me a little of his history. Carlisle leans forward in his chair and begins to tell his story. "I grew up in London in the mid 1600's. I trained in the seminary to become a preacher, so as to succeed my father when he retired. My father had been a leader among the religious groups looking for the damned in human form. I personally felt he was frequently condemning innocent people to death, but I eventually followed him in seeking night walkers."
"One night, while I was leading a group of parishioners in a hunt for night walkers," Carlisle continued, "I actually succeeded in locating a true coven of vampires. It was a small disheveled group living in the London sewers. They had been coming out at night, feeding alternately on the sailors on the docks or the prostitutes and their customers in the neighboring squares. During our search that night, I was attacked by one of the vampires, who bit me, then was interrupted. He dropped me in order to escape but his venom had already entered my blood stream, and I was changed."
I give a gasp, and Carlisle pauses. Both he and Edward study my face for a moment, as if unsure whether Carlisle should continue, but I smile and nod, so Carlisle continues his story.
"The three days after the attack were torture," he recalls. "I spent them in a cellar full of potatoes trying not to scream. I knew, after all, what would happen to me if either my parishioners or my father found me. I later learned that when I didn't return home that night, my father reported that I had fallen into the Thames, and he had been unable to get me out."
"After my change, my thirst for human blood was pure torment," Carlisle continues, the memory obviously troubling him. "I tried traditional ways to end myself, such as jumping off cliffs, but my new body never died. I eventually went into the woods so as to stay away from people. In desperation, I attacked a herd of deer one night, and after drinking from them, I realized that my thirst was sated enough that I could return to society. I spent the next few decades studying at night to become a doctor. "
Carlisle pauses at this point and glances at an oil painting done in a renaissance style hanging over the fireplace. My eyes follow his to the painting. Immediately upon seeing it, my stomach lurches, and I double over.
Edward catches me, preventing me from falling. Carlisle leaps over his desk, his concern no longer hidden. "What happened?" Carlisle demands. "Is this the same pain as in the Emergency Room?"
"You have a good memory," I gasp out.
"Vampires have perfect recall of time after their transformation. Our human lives fade quickly, and can become lost to us if we don't review our memories," Carlisle says, his hands reaching out to steady me.
Seeing that I was better and not going to answer him, Carlisle continues his story. Although he resumes his place in his chair behind his desk, he keeps his eyes trained on me, and he strokes his chin with his hand from time to time. "The portrait was done during the time I spent in Italy, with a group of vampires known as the Volturi. They are the closest thing we have to vampire royalty. They were sophisticated and cultivated, and acted as night-time patrons of the arts. That painting you are admiring was done by Solimena. But the Volturi had no respect for human life, and I grew tired of being constantly pushed to drink human blood. So I eventually took my leave, very reluctantly. The Volturi had an extensive library that covered many topics. I spent days in the library while I was there; learning things from times before even the Volturi were vampires. The three Volturi brothers had all been changed around 1300 B.C. "
"It seemed that in the old days, around 1300 B.C., when there were fewer humans, the line between the mortal and immortal world was less clear," Carlisle continues distractedly. "Marcus told me stories that are now considered Greek myths. In his time, he said, interactions between mortal men and women and immortals did occur. They may not have been commonplace, as generally the mortal had to have some unusual attraction, whether beauty or some moral quality, to draw an immortal, but these interactions did occur. The Volterra library had a large section on this topic. Apparently some of the brothers and early residents of Volterra had spent a lot of time researching the subject."
"But enough about me. You came to see Edward, not hear an old man's prattle," Carlisle concludes with a smile.
"You don't look old," I say, almost without realizing I was speaking the words aloud and not just thinking them. Carlisle smiles at this remark, and I blush.
Edward guides me out of the study, leaving an attentive Carlisle watching me closely as I leave. I feel him watching me I walked down the hall with Edward.
The next room is Edward's room. It is well lit and airy, and has a wall of c.d.'s and stereo equipment, and a large sofa in front of the wall of windows. I was so fascinated by the stereo that it took me a minute to realize what isn't in the room.
"No bed?" I ask.
"No," Edward replies. "I don't sleep."
"Ever?" I ask. He just shakes his head no.
I ask him about his music and books and then sit on the sofa. The strong pull in my stomach seems to have actually weakened me. I'm just glad it hadn't made me toss my cookies as well. That would have left a lasting impression on the Edward's dad – barfing in his sophisticated office.
Edward notices I have become quiet and asks if I am ready to go home.
"Yes," I answer. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought."
He doesn't argue the point and drives me home. After seeing me to the door, where we are greeted by Charlie, he gets back into his Volvo and drives off.
I wait a few minutes and then go up to my room. I can't sleep, so I decide to go back out to La Push and check out the tree on the cliff.
PLEASE READ AND REVIEW. I WILL SEND ALL REVIEWERS EXCERPTS FROM MY NEXT CHAPTER.
Enough groundwork has been laid so the next chapter will contain the beginning of the romance from 1300 B.C., from the tree spirit's POV.