A second hand Nokia. Dead. Cradled in his hand. It would serve him nothing, but he turned it over repeatedly, studying the chinks along the edge of the casing. More like a novelty item. Distracting in its shape, its feel, its smell.
When Carlisle heard the click of her boots from a distance, he discreetly slipped the device into his coat pocket. A petite hand clasped onto his elbow, turning him to face her.
"If you're not going to give it back, can I buy her a new one?"
He wasn't humored in the least.
"No, Alice."
Carlisle shifted out of her hold and leaned over the railing, peering down at the individuals within the hospital cafeteria.
"What was so urgent you needed to see me?"
"Don't you know?"
He cast her a glance. "You didn't offer much of an explanation over the phone."
"I thought, it'd be best if we discussed it in person."
He could feel his lips press into a frown.
"What did you see?"
Alice's eyes were downcast, briefly studying an elderly woman sitting with her nurse. "Nalani won't be staying here for long. Probably, another few days at most. But, after, her uncle will be picking her up..."
"Why?"
In the absence of her voice, he sensed her apprehension and decided not to press the topic until Alice felt ready.
"May I ask you something?" Alice said.
Carlisle met her eyes.
"Did you visit her today?" she prodded.
The urge to groan became almost insurmountable.
There were obvious disadvantages to living with someone who knew more than they were supposed to, but he came to accept that there was little to mitigate the lack of privacy - he could only endure it. Just like everyone else in the house did.
And here he thought he could try to forget much of this morning's encounter.
"Yes." He answered, because what point was there in lying?
"Why did you do that?"
"You've been doing alot of seeing these days — I'm sure you know why."
Alice's visage cracked just enough for Carlisle to witness her hurt. He wasn't trying to be stubborn; it was just a fresh subject he didn't want to divulge for the sake of his time and his sanity.
"Well," Alice said, dismissive of his sarcastic tone, "She could really use—"
"I can't."
"Did you do something wrong?"
"No."
Unless, he did. Unless, he wasn't supposed to leave. It wasn't his intention to distress her; he'd only done what she wished. And if there were any physical cues he'd missed it was because Nalani was good at hiding it.
Alice looked wearily at him.
"I only want to help you."
"Then it would help me, if you dropped the subject altogether," he requested. "Forget her as I endeavor to."
Alice's golden eyes hardened. "You can't mean that," she said, resolute. "You can't. You've been waiting for seventy years, you can't possibly give up—"
"You have been waiting for seventy years. I was perfectly content before you told me." Carlisle said sharply and turned away. He jerked his wrist and his sleeve inched up his forearm, he read the face of his watch. His shift would start again soon.
"Carlisle wait...There's something else."
He looked over his shoulder. Alice stood there whose face foretold hesitation.
"What?"
"Liza didn't come to work today, did she?"
"I overheard the desk mention she called. Apparently, there was an emergency."
Emergency. In the loosest definition of the word.
"That's why you went to the house," Alice concluded. With a solemn nod, she understood. "She's not coming back anytime soon, Carlisle."
He paused to register her statement. "What do you mean?"
"I can't see Liza. Tonight, Nalani will file a missing persons report to the police. And, then her uncle will come for her." Her eyes closed, her brows furrowed. She was trying hard to will another vision, but when she looked at him defeatedly, he knew she failed. "Nalani will be devastated. I think you have to tell her the truth—"
The shadow which had fallen upon his face silenced Alice.
The image of that girl living each day in agony affected him and he wouldn't forgive himself if he brought her any more misery. She didn't deserve to be condemned with a burden that wasn't hers to bear.
Some things were better left unsaid.
For her sake.
"What of Liza?" He asked.
"I… haven't seen it yet. But, what are we going to do if she tells?"
"If it happens, she'll be at far greater risk than we will," he said cooly.
Alice stepped forward. "And Nalani?"
He could feel the heat of her glare against his cheek and concealed his grimace.
"I don't know, Alice. For once, could we simply let things happen without interfering?"
His daughter, who possessed a gift, both a blessing and a curse, whose allure demanded to be used on a whim, and who possessed eyes that bespoke of contention, reluctantly nodded her head.
XXX
It was 11:01 PM and night fell faster than any before it that year, extending the life of those impenetrable shadows inhabiting the house. The frost burnt branches of a towering oak scraped against the window pane leading into the kitchen. Wild winds had beat the roof, muting the worried tappings of Nalani's knuckles knocking unconsciously on the countertop.
From across the kitchen, she eyed the phone set sitting atop the end table, flanking the living room couch.
In the spot she now stood, Nalani winced. Even when her injured calf ached, more so than the day before, the girl walked in full stride to the ugly sun-beaten couch she recognized as a child. It used to sit in front of the largest living room window. Occasionally after school, Nalani would nap there. It was surprising her mother kept it for so long.
The woman had said the greatest value in one's possessions was their ability to maintain ties to the past. And there were a great many things — good things — that neither she nor her mother wanted to forget.
Earnestly, Nalani picked up the phone.
It was 11:11 PM when someone had answered the line.
XXX
In her room, behind the closed door, Jasper soothed his hand down Alice's back. She was fretful tonight, but he didn't quite interfere as looked past her head.
He watched just as he listened to the tip of her pen scratch at the notebook with tremendous fervor. When strokes of black ink legibly created the silhouette of a girl, Jasper backed away in alarm as his throat nearly dried to a crisp and the venom lathered his gums — the dawn of his hunger.
Even if crudely drawn by his lover's hand, his bloodlust could never relinquish the face of its prey.
Snapped out of her trance, Alice whirled around and pulled her mate flush against her. They both fell into the bed, their tangled limbs grappled at each other, desperately seeking comfort in the other's turmoil.
She was afraid.
He was insatiated.
The notebook lied beside them, discarded but not forgotten.
In it, a man held a woman.
She was very much dead.
