March 25, 2009
10:51 pm
Unknown, Seattle, Washington
Flame-red hair floated across the rooftops. The vampire's lithe body carried her from building to building with the grace and silence of a panther. Against the white glow of the new moon, her pale complexion appeared otherworldly, as if it were a figment of an overly imaginative mind. Were anyone to cross her skyline path, he would have startled at the blood-red irises of her almond shaped eyes.
From a distant high-rise, James stood motionless, watching her as she rapidly approached their appointed meeting place. The soft thuds of her footfalls were barely discernable above the echoes of human life below, a disharmony of wailing horns, clacking train tracks, and the piercing cries of children. A chilled breeze ruffled his mottled blonde hair, carrying with it her familiar scent, a soothing mixture of jasmine and citrus.
With a final leap, she dropped down the side of a building face and out of his view. Powerful strides propelled him forward, targeting the same shadowy crevice into which she had disappeared.
He landed silently, balanced on the balls of his feet, body coiled to absorb the impact of his descent. His eyes lifted from the cracked pavement to his umbral surroundings; the fire-haired vampire was nowhere to be seen. But, he smelled her.
It was a dark nook, out of the way and unseen, a forgotten alleyway tucked between low-rent, crumbling buildings. Nearby streetlights had long since been shattered; only faints trails of subdued moonlight reached the tight space. Black, gummy mildew spread over the bricks adorning the walls, and discarded needles littered the asphalt. The stench of human feces and the burned plastic odor of methamphetamine smoke tainted the trapped air.
A swirling eddy of polluted air behind him alerted him to her presence.
"Victoria," he hissed, whirling on his heel in a blur.
"James," her lilting voice called in return. Instantly, she was by his side, her slender fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw.
He leaned in to her, inhaling as he ran his nose along the exposed expanse of her neck. "I see that you were quite the successful girl," he growled against her throat. "Tell me everything."
"More than you realize," she purred. "You have chosen wisely. The girl's blood appeals to him beyond your wildest imaginings. He is crazed with bloodlust for her. He will surely destroy her himself."
His crimson eyes gleamed in excitement, and his fingers roughly kneaded the granite skin covering her hips. "Were you able to observe him?"
Her long spirals of hair tickled his skin as she whispered into his ear, "From afar. The day following the delivery, he drove here, to Seattle, to meet with his family's investigator."
"Of course, he would need assistance. I was shocked that he found your courier so quickly. But no, he resorted to using his precious humans," James spat in revulsion.
Victoria's hands palmed his face as she kissed the corner of his mouth. "Yes, when I returned to the man this morning, I was surprised to find your scent there, not to mention his body. Did he provide you sport, husband?"
He threw his head back, laughing loudly, "When ever are humans real sport? Regardless, he satiated my thirst."
Pulling her torso against his chest, James breathed, "Where did he find her?"
The sweet perfume of her icy breath washed over his skin. "In town. It took him hours. I expected that he would locate her much sooner, considering your description of his gifts. Nevertheless, he found her."
Her tongue licked a path along his neck to his ear. Murmuring against moistened skin, she murmured, "If it were not for the misfortunate interruption of a logging truck, your competition would be over. The moment he caught her scent, he lost himself."
James's breath sucked through pursed lips as she caught his earlobe between her teeth. His hands roamed her body as he hummed, "Excellent! I am pleased with you, mate. Laurant will arrive within a few days, and I need you to return to Forks."
A wicked glint touched his eyes, and he growled, "But for now, it has been days since I saw you last, and I crave you."
To human eyes, their movements would appear as though they were suddenly locked into a vicious battle for lives and dominance. James took her swiftly, mating her against the brick wall of the nearest building, stone body violently crashing into stone body, in a frenzy of gnashing teeth, wanton limbs, and feral grunts and snarls.
March 26, 2009
6:01 am
The Cullen family home, eight miles north of Forks, Washington
"Edward?" Carlisle called quietly.
Edward had been standing at the corner of the porch all night and into the morning. For hours, he stood motionless, except for the dancing locks of bronzed hair in the breeze. His eyes gazed away from the house and across the ring of surrounding woods.
He was thinking, contemplating. He had only barely escaped the temptation of the girl's call. And escape, it was rightly termed. He had had no say in the matter; animalistic instinct had overtaken his mind to the point that it was rendered useless. Edward was grateful for the fortuitous timing of the truck. For if it had not intervened, albeit unaware of its involvement, the girl would be dead and drained by this point.
He berated himself for his recklessness. He should have known, from the moment the delivery man quoted the woman's words, that James was playing with him, luring him out. In his own town! he snarled.
And then, he'd carelessly walked into the damnable trap. For unbeknownst reasons, the girl's thoughts were a mystery to him, a first, and he'd allowed that intrigue to cloud over the issue at hand. He should have known something was off kilter, and he should have proceeded cautiously. But instead, he had ignored the improbability of such coincidence, and had waltzed over to the store with no forethought. And, she had almost perished because of it.
All through the night, images of russet eyes framed with thick black lashes haunted him. Even with his eyes closed, he could see her face as if it were imprinted behind his lids.
"So stupid," he grated underneath his breath.
"Son?" Carlisle asked as he silently stepped from the doorway.
Edward glanced over, and nodded in acknowledgement. "Carlisle."
"Edward, we're worried about you. Have you been out here all night? What has you so anxious? Jasper says that he can barely tolerate being in the house."
Jasper. In his abstraction, he had forgotten about Jasper's gifts. He cursed himself again for his oversight. Can I do nothing right? he questioned himself angrily. With forced calm, he answered with half-truths, "I apologize, Carlisle. I should have thought of Jasper; it was inconsiderate of me. I've been… preoccupied."
In a distinctly human gesture, Carlisle took a deep, steadying breath, and looked up to the lightening sky. Silently, he studied the gray-pink horizon, stippled by thin, sheer clouds, debating if to say more. His youthful, angled features twisted in indecision, and his slender fingers raked through his corn silk hair.
It's been twenty years, Edward. Another twenty years. It's that time again, isn't it? he asked silently, not wanting to alert listening ears. Even through the filter of thought, Edward could hear the intense anxiety and dread in his creator's tone.
Images of his battered and mangled form came unbidden, mirrored through Carlisle's eyes. Deep purple circled his closed eyes, and yellowed blue splotches covered his face and neck. Meaty chunks of pale, hard vampire flesh had been torn from his torso, leaving ragged gouges. Littering his bare flesh were crescents slices, and his limbs were blackened and warped, a stark contrast against the virgin snow. It took all of Edward's control to contain tremors of remembered pain.
Edward's eyes remained locked on the dark shadowed tree line. He could see the forest mammals racing up and down the rough brown bark. Chirping birds flitted from bow to bow. The smell of damp grass mingled with pine filled his stone lungs. He said nothing, still frozen and sucking in a breath full of clean air, attempting to calm himself from the torturous visions. After a long moment, his mind stilled, and he ducked his chin imperceptibly.
To any observer, there were no markers of conversation. Decades-long familiarity granted them minute coded signals, subtle enough that even family members rarely discerned them. They simply appeared as two men quietly sharing the early morning air.
Will you be leaving us again? he queried pointedly.
Would I leave? Edward thought. How could I? My battle is here. He could only hope to divert it away from town and away from his family. But for the time being, he had no choice but to remain.
Carlisle barely contained his incredulity when Edward's eyes darted to the side, a negative.
I don't understand, Edward.
Edward shifted his honeyed gaze to his maker's, and softly pleaded, "I can't, Carlisle." His head bowed, showing his shame at his deception.
Very well. I told you before that I would not press you. But please, reconsider. Please let me, let your family help lift whatever burden it is that you bear.
He returned his focus to the forest, now a muted green in the pale morning sun. Edward lied, "I'll think about it. Thank you."
Edward, do what you need to do. Go where you need to go. I'll take care of the rest of family when they ask. We will not interfere unless you request it, which I hope you will. Regardless, please, do not allow yourself to be harmed as you did once before. I don't think I can handle that again. I'm certain Esme cannot.
Carlisle shoulders lifted as he inhaled, and forced a smile. In a louder voice, one loud enough that his family's vampire hearing could easily detect, he said cheerfully, "Well, I'm off to the hospital. Dr. Gerandy is out again, and I've agreed to the double shift."
As soon as his father's black sedan was out of sight, Edward was running. He darted between the trees and craggy rocks scattered across the forest floor. He sailed through the air, feet barely touching the ground. He ran as swiftly as he ever had, leaping over downed trunks and flying between the reaching branches. The wind whipped and whistled across the cartilage of his ears. His skin tingled as his hair plastered to his scalp.
Within minutes, he reached the edge of the sleepy town. Slowing to a humanly paced walk, he stepped out from between two large firs to the road. Looking around and seeing no one, he treaded the muddied sidewalk into town to the rickety bench he'd occupied the day before.
As he'd watched the night turn to day from his family's front porch, Edward had concluded that to save this girl, he had to overcome his own bloodlust for her. There was no possible way around that. He was certain that James was expecting him to destroy her himself, and in effect, handing him the ultimate victory, a fight won by forfeiture, by admittance of common evil.
But he would not give in so easily. He had to find a way to deal with this exotic creature, and he had to do it fast. As with any drug or intoxicating substance, Edward surmised that he had a choice between two disparate courses of action. He could either avoid her blood altogether or he could attempt to build a tolerance to her. The first option was unacceptable as he could not protect her and avoid her simultaneously. The girl would die, and he would suffer decades, if not centuries, of guilt. The last images of Nicole's wide eyes would never leave him. He did not think he could stomach this particular girl's eyes staring at him through eternity. The second option was risky, and could still end with her blood on his hands. He was uncertain if it were even possible to build up a tolerance to the strength of her siren call. When James had written 'her blood sings,' he could not have been more accurate.
He knew his answer. He had to attempt it. It was still early, and only a handful of people walked the streets. Inspiration suddenly dawned; the store would not open for another two hours. Resolute, he lifted himself from the worn slats of the bench, and quickly found his way to the rear of Newton's store. The metal alleyway door was locked, so his eyes scanned upward, looking for an alternate entry point, one that would not alert the storeowners to intrusion. To his good fortune, a second story window was slightly ajar.
With an effortless leap, Edward found himself hanging one handed to the generous overhang above the white washed window. His long arm extended out, and his fingers tucked between the window frame and sill. In a single motion, the window lifted and his body vaulted inside.
Edward silently stepped through the small office. His eyes quickly swept the space, noting the scattering of paperwork and order forms. Hints of her invaded his nostrils. She had been here: not for long, but her scent still marked the air. Berries mixed with freesia, an intoxicating concoction, led him out of the room, through a short, carpeted hall, and then, down the stairs to the store.
With every step, the tickle in his throat flamed hotter. By the bottom step, he was on fire, a burning, ashen pile. His eyes blackened, despite his feeding frenzy the night before, and his body shook in bloodlust. She was everywhere; her scent coated every surface in the store. He ran his nose along an old broom handle. Her hands had been here, he thought wildly. His tongue darted out and licked the length of the handle, tasting the oils she unknowingly left behind.
His eyes darted to a shelf underneath the cash register. A dog-eared paperback with a broken binding captured his interest. It was nothing but a back pocket anthology of British poetry, verses by Wordsworth, Shelley, and Keats. The pages were soaked with her perfume.
Vicious growls erupted from his chest, and his sight flooded with red. His mind fought desperately to maintain in control. Behind the curtain of red, images of the girl flashed, reminding him of his purpose
His eyes clenched shut, and he buried his face between the pages, sucking in mouthfuls of her precious aroma. Flames licked his tongue, flames so intense they could only be rivaled by the fire of transformation. But, he continued to inhale her, forcing his body to yield to his mind.
After endless minutes, other thoughts invaded him, alerting him to Mrs. Newton's arrival. He wrenched himself from the fiery rapture of the girl's scent. He had to leave, immediately. He knew the smell of her coupled with the wet smacking of Mrs. Newton's pulse would be too much to bear, a dangerous and potentially deadly combination. His breathing stopped as a precaution.
I hope she locked up. What, with that murderer on the loose! A murderer in Hoquiam!
Instantly, he was back in the small office upstairs and climbing out of the window. He dropped down, and landed with a muffled thud on the compacted mud below. He raced back to his bench, and settled himself, attempting casual aloofness in his demeanor.
It was not until he glanced down at his hands did he realize that he had taken the girl's – Bella's, he corrected – book with him. Tentatively, he sniffed the air, and the flames assaulted him yet again. His senses sharpened, and his eyes narrowed and swept his surroundings. Beams of light filtered through thick clouds, illuminating the street. Diamond-like chips of rock embedded in asphalt reflected rainbows. Voices attacked his mind, and the disjointed streams of consciousness hummed like white noise. Smells of frying bacon and turpentine tainted the divine perfume of the girl.
For the remainder of the morning, Edward warred with himself; routinely taking small gulps of air, forcing his throat to burn. The fire had not waned, but he found that through the rabid, primal urges, he could reason and he could think. For the first time in days, he felt a glimmer of hope.
By mid afternoon, he'd found the courage to reassume his hidden guard across the street from the store. For hours, Edward watched her through the glass, observed her movements, and listened to her speak. Her quiet voice came to his ears as soft peals of music.
She was unconsciously beautiful. Her long mane of hair was swept up in a neat twist and clip, exposing an alabaster span of neck and shoulder. When he looked carefully, even through the dirtied and scratched plate glass, he could see the pale blue veins underneath her translucent skin.
Her wide, dark eyes sparkled and hinted at intelligence and depth. And when she spoke, her words proved her eyes correct. She was clever, kind, and self-effacing. The longer he watched her, the stronger his desires were to speak to her himself, to meet her.
Edward realized that interacting with her at this point was not feasible. He would have to soon, but he had to acclimate himself to her. For the moment, he contented himself with observing her from afar and huffing her scent from the tattered pages of her book.
July 12, 1969
3:32 am
A deserted parking deck, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
He clutched the woman's hand too tightly, desperately trying to reassure her of her safety. Her vividly colored clothing was torn and soiled, but her prone body, folded on the rough concrete, was thankfully unbroken. She would be bruised and in pain, but she was alive. If Edward had any say whatsoever in the matter, she would continue to live, unhindered by the torment to which she had been subjected.
Her breaths came in sharp, painful rasps; she was hyperventilating. She had seen him, and she recognized him for what he was. He had had no other option but to reveal his inhuman nature to her.
Her feeble and frail fingers pawed at his face in disbelief, timidly trailing the stone lines of his jaw.
"But you are just a boy!" she cried. "Your skin, it is so very cold. You're freezing, but it is ninety-five degrees. You feel like death incarnate."
She was closer to the truth than she could have ever imagined. Her mind skittered and spun, leaving him with only garbled words to differentiate. Her eyes opened and snapped shut again.
Cold…beautiful…too beautiful… a boy…unnatural…so fast…pale and cold…just like the other one!
Her breathing became erratic and fitful, filled with keening whimpers, and a tear escaped her lashes. The thundering of her heart resounded and bounced off of the cement floor. The woman's frame shook, even as he gently stroked her blanched cheeks in attempts to soothe her. She was indisputably terrified of him, recognizing that he and James were of the same kind and that their kind could not be human.
But James had made a mistake this time. In his all-consuming arrogance and quest for misplaced revenge, he had gone too far. He had selected this victim out of bold overconfidence, and he had chosen poorly. He meant to drive Edward to careless madness. Instead, he had ignited quiet, calculating fury.
With her shock of bronze-red hair and bright green eyes, she could have been Edward's human sister or his mother. While her scent was alluring, it burned him no more than any other human with whom he regularly interacted. He was not blinded by any bloodlust. When he looked down at her quaking form, he felt the pangs of long-lost human nostalgia. These warm, unfamiliar emotions were quickly eclipsed, however, by anger and fierce protectiveness. When James had called her 'Elizabeth,' the name of Edward's human mother, Edward had nearly come unhinged. Their battle suddenly became far more than James's vengeful quest; it was now a personal war to the utmost degree.
"Elizabeth, please, I will not hurt you. I'm here to take you from this place. I'm going to take you home," Edward whispered softly in her ear.
"I don't think that will be happening today, Cullen," James's voice spat from behind him.
"Though, I must say, Edward, that you have thoroughly impressed me with your wrath this round. Truthfully, I didn't expect you come out to play at all, considering the last time. You actually killed one of my coven! Impressive, indeed!"
Edward released the woman's hand, and rose. Through clenched teeth, he grated, "You will not have her, James. Over my burning body and pile of ashes, you will not harm this woman."
Like the viper before the strike, Edward stood deathly still. His pale form glowed against the black of his clothing. His amber eyes darkened in fury, and his hands curled into rigid talons in anticipation. As he flexed, the corded muscles of his forearms glimmered and shone in the harsh light of the garage.
A feral snarl exploded from deep inside of his chest, and like lightning, he sprang. His coiled fingers wrapped around James's throat as his teeth tore mouthfuls of flesh.
They tumbled to the ground in tangle of arms and legs. Their entwined bodies rolled across the cement, teeth gnashing and snapping. James growled ferociously, and his fists suddenly shot out, connecting with Edward's torso with massive force.
Edward felt James's vice grip tightening around his arm, and abruptly, he felt his body soaring through the air, and then crashing into a nearby car. The metallic screeching of the impact shot through the airspace, echoing off the cement pillars and walls.
Instantly, he was on his feet and charging. Their bodies collided in mid air in a thunderous boom of stone hitting stone. They fell and hit the ground, sending splintering cracks across the concrete. The small space was filled with sounds of shrieking and roars as Edward's teeth once again found purchase. Inhuman wails and the smashing of metal resonated and reverberated though his body. With primal rage, he ripped James's arms from their sockets.
Without warning, his body was flung from James's. He hurtled headlong into the nearby stairwell, smashing through a foot of poured cement and rebar. Concrete crumbled, and he was showered with a rain of dust and rock. Shaking his head, Edward looked up just in time to see a flash of orange-red blurring in retreat with James in tow.
"Damn it!" he roared. He was torn, uncertain of what he should do. He could easily chase James and his fire-haired companion. His speed was unequivocal; he could finish this. But there could be others, waiting. He could not risk leaving the woman alone and undefended. He would have to settle for hunting James down later.
He found the woman, Elizabeth, curled into a tight ball in the corner of the garage. Her mind was uncontrolled and wild. Her body shuddered in brutal wrenching jerks. Acid smelling bile stained her shirt and her lips. Her quivering fingers were knotted in her hair and she was pulling at her scalp.
Edward looked down at her shivering form, and he felt a welling of sympathy and pity. While she would live, he wasn't sure if the human mind was capable of recovering from such graphic violence. She had seen a vampire tear the flesh and limbs from another. She had heard the sounds of monsters colliding and shrieking. He lifted her body carefully, trying not to jostle her. He whispered soothing words into her hair, and then hummed her to sleep as he carried her to a waiting car.
Over the several next days, Edward watched over the woman, in part to ensure James's withdrawal, but also to determine if she would recover from her trauma. As he observed her, he marveled at how remarkably the human mind worked and functioned.
Those first days, Elizabeth rocked and cried, cowering behind locked doors. She was incapable of fending for herself, so Edward bathed and fed her in her catatonic state. He relived her torture over and over through her eyes, as her mind existed only in a frozen circuit of horror. But gradually, over weeks, her subconscious took over and began shielding and protecting her from the events that had taken place. By and by, her vivid memories turned to vague thoughts and notions, and then finally existed only in her dreams.
As she healed, Edward slowly removed himself from her life. He settled on observing and guarding her from afar, allowing her to return to her life as it was before it had been invaded and assaulted by myth. Three months after returning her to her home and confident that she could and would survive on her own, he finally bid her farewell and turned homeward.
