DISCLAIMER: First and foremost, I would like to EMPHASIZE that I DO NOT own Twilight - Stephenie Meyer does. Secondly, this fan fiction was written purely for the purpose of entertainment and will not be used for monetary profit. Lastly, I am all for constructive criticism. However, if you're just here to comment on how much you HATE Twilight or that I'm an awful person for replacing Bella, please don't bother.
A/N: I would like to send a great big THANKS to my Beta (Angel of the Night Watchers) for taking this on and getting this back to me so fast!
Well, now that I feel sufficiently wicked, I've decided to go ahead and put this up (my Beta was UBER EXCELLENT and gave it back to me at the same time I got Chapter 8).
Now that the whole 'Edward's telepathic' conversation has been started, how will Lily finish it? Also, how is she going to break the news to Edward that she knows all about him? Find out in this installment of From Dusk Until Dawn! (I've always wanted to do that ... ;P)
Chapter 9:
"Not until you finish," I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a level look.
"You said you'd tell me in the car."
"That was contingent upon you answering my questions, Edward. You've managed to avoid a majority of them thus far. I'm not going to fulfill my end until the conditions have been met on yours." I was adamant. I'd be revealing more than enough to compensate for the measly answers I'd asked for. Our conversation was a give and take. It was time for him to give.
A low, irritated sound emanated from his throat as he glanced at my stoic face, "Fine. What is it you wanted to know again?"
"How your telepathy works. Does it require physical contact or is it distanced – and at what range? How specific is it – is it images, words, feelings? Is it genetic or have you … developed into it? What about the rest of your family – are they also telepathic?"
He took a deep breath, staring out over the steering wheel.
"No," his voice was quiet, resigned. "It's just me. I don't really know how it works – it just does. I don't need physical contact – I can always hear it. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's … 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles." He paused as though trying to figure something out, "It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum – a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear. Most of the time I tune it all out – it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal," he grimaced, "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."
"What are your limitations? Can you read every thought someone has ever had?"
"No. I only catch what's passing through their mind at the exact time I'm listening. People usually think in words, phrases, but sometimes there are images. Feelings are always there – they tinge the words and the images. I can sometimes catch glimpses into things that happened before – but that only happens when people's minds reference past events." He didn't look at me. I could tell he was making an effort to make me understand his explanations.
"What about daydreams? Can you tell the difference between those and actual memories?" This was a curiosity for me. Did he pick up on the myriad of hormone-fueled fantasies that swam through the minds of those around him?
He huffed and I could see his eyes roll, "Yes. There's always an undercurrent to things. Pictures generated by imagination are … fuzzy, indistinct – for most people. Someone with a particularly vivid imagination might create clearer images but the feelings and subconscious thoughts accompanying them are distinguishable."
"Have you always been able to do this?" How long had he been burdened with this ability? Had he been able to read minds before he'd … changed?
"For most of my life," There was an odd emphasis to the last word.
"I'm sorry," I was. How long had he been alive? His answer hadn't been specific enough to distinguish origin but I felt I'd intruded enough.
He shrugged, "I've learned to deal with it."
"Why do you think you can't hear me?" This was crucial to me. He hadn't been able to read me either. I wondered what it was about me that prevented that intrusion.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I've never met anyone else like you. The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." His tone was thoughtful, though there was a teasing undercurrent.
Doesn't work the same way, I thought dolefully. Of course it didn't. My … life didn't work the same anymore. Why would my brain? Italy had changed me completely.
"I guess I'm just a freak." I tried not to let the hurt I felt penetrate my voice.
"I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that you're the freak," he laughed.
I looked at him and attempted a smile. It was the first time I'd ever considered that Edward might be just as … freakish as I was.
"Don't worry," he reassured me. "It's just a theory …. Which brings us back to you."
My teeth claimed my lower lip and I could feel the furrowing of my brow.
"Honestly, I'm not sure where to start …." The only thing that was clear was my reluctance to bring up the Quileute werewolves. I wasn't sure whether they'd contacted the Cullens about the breach but I knew I didn't want to be the bearer of that news, if they hadn't. How could I explain my knowledge otherwise? I'd admitted that I hadn't come up with it on my own but that left the aiding factor unclear.
"Why don't you start at the beginning? You said you didn't come up with this on your own."
"No," I admitted and fell silent again. My brain was working at a million miles a minute.
"What got you started – a book? A movie?"
"No, not exactly. It's kind of … complicated." I hated that word. It was horribly underestimating. This was more than complicated. It was closer to unbelievable.
"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" He asked quietly.
"Yes." I looked up at his face, "It's not that. It's just …," My teeth reclaimed my lip.
How to describe … everything?
"I won't laugh," he promised.
"That's not the problem. I'm more concerned that you'll be upset with me."
"Is it that bad?"
"I think so," my voice was little more than a whisper. My stomach had started churning, manipulating the few bites of ravioli I'd consumed into nausea. A quick glance out the window did nothing to quiet my stomach. "Can we pull over, please?"
"What's wrong?" Edward slowed the car and pulled to the shoulder of the highway.
"I'm fine," I popped the door open and stepped out into the night air.
Edward's door opened and he was by my side incredibly fast.
I closed my eyes and took deep breaths as I tried to overcome the wave of queasiness. It took a few gulps of air before the feeling began to subside. In the aftermath, I could feel the faint burning of remembered pain tingling in my left wrist and right shoulder.
"Lily? Are you all right?" Edward's voice was worried but he made no move to touch me.
"Yes," I opened my eyes and met his golden gaze. In that instant, my options came to me – a way to explain my knowledge without alienating the pack of angry shifters. "How much do you know about me, Edward?"
He was confused – it was written plainly on his face. My question hadn't been what he was expecting, "What do you mean?"
"You can read minds, right? Can you read your father's?" I slowly began pushing the sleeve of my royal purple blouse up my left forearm.
"Yes." He was cautious, uncertain of my path.
I nodded, "You were there when he was making his rounds. What did you learn?" The sleeve was high enough that the pair of raised crescent scars would be plainly visible were I to tilt my wrist up to the moonlight.
"Your readings were a little unusual though you appeared to have no concussion or resulting injuries …," he was slow in answering.
"Anything else?"
"Lily, what are you trying to tell me?"
I turned from him and paced toward the rear of the car. This wasn't going well. I wasn't being specific enough. Maybe I needed to take another route.
"Do you remember that I told you I was adopted?"
He nodded.
"And I told you that my family died a long time ago – that I really didn't remember much?" My right hand instinctively rose to rub the suddenly tense muscle between my right shoulder and neck.
"Yes," he tilted his head to the side.
"That's not … exactly … true."
"Okay."
I covered my face with my hand, sighing with frustration. Why was this so hard to say? Edward, I know you're a vampire. I lost my actual family to a coven, so I know what I'm talking about. My throat seized up as I thought these words. Saying them aloud would take more nerve than I currently possessed. "… this isn't working …."
I heard the gravel crunch under his feet as he took a step toward me, "What isn't working, Lily? What's the matter?" His voice was full of concern. He didn't understand what I was hinting at and my agitation was only increasing his worry.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to calm my nerves. Even out in the open air, the scent lingering in the fabric of his leather jacket was distinguishable. This may very well be the last time I encountered it – or him.
When I opened my eyes, he was a foot from me, hovering protectively near the back door of the car, "I'm trying. This isn't easy for me, so bear with me, please."
He nodded, "I can do that."
"I've been watching you – all of you – for weeks. At first, I didn't connect what I was seeing – it was … different but not alarming."
He opened his mouth but I raised a hand to stop him, asking him silently to allow me to finish.
"It took me a little while to link everything together, to compare it to my own … knowledge." I closed my eyes for a quick breath before looking again at his face – now frozen in a weary semblance. "You've worked very hard to fit in, but it's all there: your skin, movements, speed, strength, eyes, and you never eat or drink anything."
He was tense and yet frozen solid – so like the marble his skin resembled, "Lily, what …?"
I shook my head to stop him.
"Do you know that I nearly ran away after the first day I met you?"
There was a visible flinch in his facial muscles and he shook his head.
"At the time, I didn't understand what it was about you. The signs were all there, hidden, disguised but I didn't see them until after the accident. Even then, it took …," I didn't want to admit to the wolves' involvement so I took another route. "Time … to piece together. You're so different."
In spite of the seriousness of the subject I smirked. Even I'd been fooled by their façade at first.
"And now I know – part of me has known all along."
"Know what?" His voice was terse and came out from between his clenched teeth.
I shook my head despairingly, "I know what you are, Edward."
"Say it."
I simply looked at him. Was he serious?
"Say it, Lily." He was still frozen, all except his lips.
Vampire, I thought mournfully. I knew he couldn't hear me but I found uttering the word aloud difficult.
"Out loud," he clarified as he stepped closer to me.
I took a breath, steadying my voice before speaking, "Vampire."
If I hadn't been staring into his amber eyes, I would have missed the reaction. The word was as painful for him to hear as it was for me to say.
"Are you afraid?" His eyes raked my expression as his question sank in.
Was I? I should be. Part of me was – the sane, logical, survival-inclined part. But that part wasn't in control of me any longer. I'd abandoned sanity and reason on that fallen tree in the woods Sunday afternoon.
So, if logic and reason weren't reliable evidence, what else could I use? I really only had one option – my body. It had been right all along, warning me of danger my head couldn't yet understand. Carefully, I delved into the murky waters of my physical reactions.
Adrenaline. The drug-like substance coursed sweet and swift through my veins heightening awareness, keening eyesight and hearing, tensing muscles, speeding heart rate. I'd become so accustomed to its presence in my system – almost as though I needed it. It had been long months since I'd gone without some situation or another triggering a dosage. Absently, I wondered if, when this was all over, my body would ever be able to function properly without its flighty surge.
Was I scared? Yes – no denying it. Every nerve in my body was sensitized, every muscle tensed. Even so, there was more to it than simple fear. The strange ambience surrounding my head warranted more than offhanded dismissal. Lucidity should have been lost to the warring of logic, memory, and desire. It wasn't.
Calm radiated from the same far-distant portion of my brain that created the muted clanging of warning bells. The two contradictory signals were confusing and yet perfectly in harmony – as though to add depth and purpose to the physical reactions I was experiencing.
Translation? I was scared – terrified, really … physically. Mentally, I was perfectly serene, accepting. Emotionally? Conflicted – that was as accurate a term as I could supply.
So, what did all of this mean? How could I be frightened of Edward physically but not mentally? Had I grown so used to the idea that I would die up here in the sodden Olympic Peninsula that I was unable to react with surprise?
I breathed deeply through my nose as I examined Edward's tense, brilliant golden eyes in the moonlight. The faint glow lent a supernatural aura to his reddish hair – akin to that of a mythical guardian angel. At that instant, the breeze changed directions, wafting the enticing scent off his skin right into my face.
Immediately, my sight was obscured by a memory. Long white arms stretched out on either side of mine, braced to accept the impact of the blue wall sliding toward us.
"Lily, are you all right?" His voice, filtered through my memory, came back to me thick with worry.
With a gasp, the memory shifted. A shiny silver car barreling down a narrow alleyway – reminiscent of a white horse from a fairytale.
"Get in, Lily!" Again, his words echoed back to me.
Clarity washed over me as I viewed these images. Now I understood why I was so conflicted. I wasn't afraid of Edward physically or mentally. My fear stemmed from something else entirely – something I knew both far too well and not nearly well enough.
"Yes," my voice was breathless as the confession slipped out.
He froze, becoming still as a statue.
"And no."
His gaze turned questioning but his facial muscles never moved.
"I have every reason to be frightened – all things considered …."
"What do you mean 'all things considered'?" His voice was quiet but firm.
I pushed the tanned sleeve of his jacket up my left arm and tilted my wrist such that the raised pair of pasty white scars was clearly illuminated in the haunting moonlight.
His eyes flickered to my exposed skin but he didn't speak.
"You've known for weeks, Edward – ever since the accident. There's no way your father could have missed it during his exam – even human doctors sometimes notice them. More so, there's no way you could have missed hearing about it."
His eyes returned to mine but he didn't speak. He simply examined my expression with clinical precision.
"I thought so," I lowered my arm back to my side. "So – all things considered – I am frightened. But not of you."
"Why not?" The words sounded as though they had been ripped up his throat from deep within.
"You aren't going to hurt me."
"What makes you so certain?"
"Because you haven't already."
"Complacency is dangerous, Lily. How do you think we survive? We're attractive to our pray. Everything is designed to draw you in – my scent, my face, my voice …."
"Don't," I held up my hand to stop him. He wasn't taking me seriously – or he didn't want to believe I was so sure. "You'd have done it long ago, if that was your intention – you've had more than ample opportunity. Conversely, you've put an exorbitant amount of effort into ensuring my continued existence."
"And?"
"Edward," why was this so hard for him to understand? "It doesn't matter to me what …."
I only got that far before he interrupted.
"It doesn't matter?" His sneering tone was filled with anger.
"No."
"You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human?"
"No."
He fell silent though I could swear the mental dialogue was just barely out of hearing. Staring at his face I began to realize that maybe I'd been too forward. I'd been walking the thin line between utter frankness and 'need to know' all night. Perhaps I'd stepped too far over ….
I waited a good thirty-count in my head before I figured he wasn't going to say any more.
"We should probably get back in the car …." I didn't want to go home. This nagging feeling of final goodbyes was playing around the outskirts of my mental reality and I didn't like it. Now that the bat was out of the belfry – har har – I wasn't ready for him to fly away.
Without a word he turned and opened my door.
Tentatively, I got in. What had I done?
Three miles down the road I found my voice, "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" He looked at me incredulously.
I really had stuck my foot in my mouth …. I nodded unable to speak again.
"What are you sorry for?" The strange emphasis confused me.
"You're angry. I shouldn't have said anything." The sharp pressure of my teeth kneading my lip helped keep me from doing two unforgivable things – blabbering incoherently and crying.
"No." He paused for a moment, "I'd rather know what you're thinking – even if what you're thinking is insane."
The pause made me catch my breath. But it was the last that caused me to lose it again.
"Please save the denials for someone with less hands-on experience, Edward." I couldn't believe he was even attempting this after our exchange outside the car.
"That's not what I was referring to!" His teeth clenched together and he spat the next words out in a scathing tone, "'It doesn't matter'!"
I rolled my eyes slightly – couldn't help it. "No, it doesn't – and I'd appreciate it if you'd quit harping on it. Derision is unattractive on anyone."
His amber eyes flickered to my face, reading the annoyance – I hoped. "What should we talk about then?" His tone was softer than before, as though he'd seen something unsettling in my expression.
"Well ...," how could I lead into this with any form of grace? "I do have some questions – clarifications, really – that I'd like to have answered … if you're willing."
"What do you want to know?" His voice lacked inflection or interest now. It was as though he'd resigned himself to something both disagreeable and utterly unimportant.
"How old are you?" This was a minor curiosity. The knowledge would add only a layer to the pile I was already building inside my head.
"Seventeen." His response was automatic – and untrue.
I smirked despite myself. I understood all too well the intricacies of rote-by-necessity.
"Fine," Patronization tinged my tone. "How long have you been seventeen?"
The corner of his mouth twitched upward feigning that breathtaking crooked smile I loved, "A while."
Apparently, this was privileged information, "As you wish."
This next section was a little more … interesting. Some things I knew from my time in Italy, some I'd come to after years of contemplation. Worrying my lower lip I eyed him. If I was lucky he would take me seriously and not laugh. However, I didn't think that was likely. Even so, the information could be invaluable to me. My life might someday hinge on what I learned over the course of this car ride.
"Is that it?" He seemed confused. My silence appeared to be having no better effect on his peace of mind than it was on mine.
"No. This next part is just a little …. Just don't laugh, all right?"
His grimace made it seem as though nothing I said tonight would be cause for laughter.
"How is it you can come out in the daytime?"
He laughed anyway, "Myth."
I gulped, "All vampires can do it?"
He nodded.
Then I'd been very lucky …. "But I thought the sun would burn you."
"Myth."
I already knew crucifixes did nothing. Being awake in the daytime I'd known, too. He'd engaged in some of his less brutal experiments during the days. Night was always the worst … when everyone was asleep ….
I shook myself mentally, feeling a chill run down my spine, "Do you sleep in a coffin or in the ground?"
"Myth." He paused thoughtfully, "I can't sleep."
My eyes widened, "At all?"
"Never," he breathed.
That explained a lot.
He turned his face to look at me. Butterscotch irises of hauntingly pale beauty bore into mine, seeking something.
"You haven't asked me the most important question yet," his voice was full of emptiness tinged with anger.
I blinked, trying to figure out what he was eluding at. What could he mean? I already knew about the mind-reading, the strength, the speed … what more was there? I carefully went over the data I'd been gathering. What had I missed?
"You aren't concerned about my diet?" The question was blunt, hard.
Food. They never ate or drank anything. "Oh. That." My voice was quiet. Now I was in trouble. How could I explain knowing that the Cullens only fed on animals without bringing the Quileute werewolves into it? It wasn't like there were published records of the Quileute legend somewhere that I could quote.
"Yes, that. Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"
I cringed back into the seat and a brief flicker of satisfaction crossed his features. "No."
"No? You don't care if I drink human blood, Lily? You don't care that I could be killing innocent people for food?" He was angry again.
"That's not what I said …."
"Clarify."
"No, I don't want to know if you drink blood. I know you drink blood." I felt the remembered burn of pain prickling at my scars and I rubbed my wrist absently.
"And?"
"I have a theory about that, too." Well, as far as he knew, my theories were a dime a dozen. Now I needed to think fast.
"Go on."
"You – your whole family have chosen to live among humans. You spend every day among us. You've been in Forks for two years now and no one suspected what you were until I came. If you fed on human blood, I don't think you could do that so flawlessly."
He waited for me to continue.
"You don't look the same as other vampires, either. Your eyes are yellow. Theirs are red. I think that's a result of your diet. They feed on human blood. You feed on some other kind of blood – which means animal."
This was actually making sense to me. The words were meant as little more than a cover-up – a smokescreen – but they rang true. Had I looked at it from this perspective before I'd heard the story from the Quileutes, I might have come to the same conclusion.
"You are observant, aren't you?" The unwilling smirk on his face helped to solidify my resolve.
"Am I right?"
"Yes. We drink animal blood."
I smiled in triumph. I'd managed to convince myself that my theory was both plausible and accurate based on the provided data.
"Don't let that make you complacent, though," he was quick to rebuttal. "There's a reason humans are afraid of us. We are still dangerous."
"What do you mean?" It was true he was still physically stronger and faster than any human out there but I didn't grasp what that had to do with his diet.
"We try. We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."
With me. Of course. They hadn't been able to resist either. Animal blood wasn't the Cullens' natural food – human blood was. Vegetarians can go their whole lives without eating meat but that didn't mean a tasty steak wasn't appealing to them, too.
"This is a mistake?" I needed clarification before I allowed myself to despair. Was this really the last I would see of him? The lights of Forks were coming into view, glowing faintly over the tops of the trees.
"A very dangerous one."
He was only being truthful. How could I fault him for that?
It was a few moments before I could compose myself enough to speak. Traitor tears were stinging at the corners of my eyes and it was getting hard to breathe.
"Tell me more."
"What more do you want to know?"
"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," I suggested. It mattered, immensely, but I couldn't bring myself to care as much as I should. My attentions were otherwise occupied with keeping my outer calm.
"I don't want to be a monster," he muttered.
"Animals aren't enough, though?" I wanted to be sure I understood his reasoning behind declaring our twilight rendez-vous a mistake.
"I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn't completely satiate the hunger – or rather thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time." His voice grew lower as he spoke, taking on hints of shame. "Sometimes it's more difficult than others."
Ah. We'd hit the proverbial nail on the head, then. "It's very difficult for you now, isn't it?" It was less a question, more a statement of fact. He'd had trouble resisting me, too.
He sighed, "Yes."
"Even when you've so recently eaten?" Drank, drunk? It didn't matter, I was aiming for something.
"What makes you say that?"
"The color of your eyes." I tried not to put undue emphasis on my source.
He waited.
"They change color with your feeding cycle; going from light gold – like tonight – to black."
"How do you know it has to do with feeding?"
"Its just something I put together after knowing you for a while."
"Explain more, please." He was tense again, as though I'd stumbled across some quirky tell he didn't want publicized.
"Well, you see, your personality seems to go through cycles. When your eyes are light, you're generally in a better mood. When they're dark, you're crankier. People get like that when they're hungry. It's natural." And apparently universal.
He chuckled, "You really are observant, aren't you?"
"Careful," I warned teasingly.
"Of?" He was still smirking.
"That's the third time you've admitted that tonight. Too many times more and I might start to believe you." I flashed him a dazzling smile – something I rarely gave to anyone.
He laughed full on as the car started to slow. We were entering Fork's town limits and it wouldn't be prudent to continue at our previous speed.
"Were you hunting with Emmett this weekend?" It was a bit of a sudden change of direction but I wanted to know that I'd been right.
"Yes." He stopped laughing and his face took on a distinctly nervous cast. "I didn't want to leave," he spoke slowly, carefully. "But it was necessary. It's a bit easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."
I'd bet. "Why didn't you want to go?"
He took a breath and turned to meet my gaze, "It makes me … anxious to be away from you." He paused again as though tasting the words for the correct flavor. "I wasn't joking when I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get run over last Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight, I'm surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed."
My temper was quickly approaching the point of no return. His implication of complete and utter incompetence on my part was both unwarranted and completely fallacious. I'd survived for over ninety years! Granted, I'd experienced my share – and more – of life-threatening circumstances during that time but they were always caused by someone else. I'd never purposefully placed myself into dire straits … until now. Nor had I ever courted danger. It had simply found me appealing ….
Before I could vocalize this internal rant, Edward corrected himself.
"Well, not totally unscathed," he amended.
His ratification threw my emotional rollercoaster through a loop and I was utterly sidetracked. "What?" How did he know I'd passed out on the road in La Push and hit my head? My hair completely covered the small bruise still healing there and I hadn't mentioned anything to Julia.
"Your hands," he glanced down at my palms.
So did I. The mostly-healed scratches from the gravel had been forgotten moments after I'd removed the unnecessary bandaging in my car.
"I fell." I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud until Edward responded. My words were more meant to remind me that I had fallen and scraped my palms.
"That's what I thought," he smiled consolingly at me. "I suppose, being you, it could have been much worse – and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days."
Three days? Where had he been on Monday?
"Wait. Three days?"
"Yes."
"You didn't just get back today?"
"No, we got back Sunday." He sounded confused.
"Sunday …." There was a distinctly irritated note to my voice. If he'd gotten back on Sunday, the least he could have done was contact me to let me know he and his family hadn't simply dropped off the face of the planet!
"What?" He didn't understand.
"Where have you been for the last two days?"
"At home …," he was cautious, still not understanding the reason behind my anger.
"Why weren't you in school?" The calmer approach was more prudent. Blowing up at him over his truancy wasn't really acceptable – nor was it my place to police his whereabouts. I would simply have appreciated knowing that I was going to see him again ….
"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out in the sunlight, at least, not where anyone can see."
I was distracted. Can't be seen in the sunlight? Maybe that was why I'd gotten away …. I'd made my break at first light.
"Why?" I tilted my head to the side as I contemplated the possibilities. If the sun didn't burn them then … why couldn't they be seen? Lack of physical repercussions was the strongest deterrent I could think of. Barring that, the only other reason I could come to would be discovery. Was there something about the sunlight that revealed vampires for what they were? I eyed him speculatively as I imagined what he might look like under the sunlight. Did he sprout wings or fangs?
"I'll show you sometime."
"Okay," I was holding him to that promise. If he was going to show me his sunlight visage, he'd have to stick around long enough for the sun to come out again.
He cast me an unidentifiable look – amusement and … pain?
"You know, I would have appreciated a call." He wasn't getting off the hook so easy but at least I didn't feel the inclination to wring his neck.
"But I knew you were safe." Again he didn't understand. Either he was exceptionally dense or he wasn't used to people worrying about him.
"Well, I'm glad you knew that after not seeing me for five days. But you seem to forget that I'm not a mind reader. Just because you can check on me through – well anyone – doesn't mean I can do the same. Not knowing where you were – or how – was –," I came to an abrupt stop. Admitting that might be a little more than reckless. Weary of the effect his eyes had on me, I lowered my glance to my hands.
"What?"
Agonizing …. "Let's just say that I didn't like it." I could feel the warming of my cheeks and denied the compulsion to meet his eyes when I confessed, "Not seeing you, that is." I couldn't seem to stop the words from flowing now that I was started, "I was anxious the whole weekend. I didn't know if I'd see you again …."
With exceptional control I physically clamped my lips together to stem the river of revelations pouring from my core. What was it with me and self-control whenever I was speaking to him? Every ounce I had acquired in over one hundred years seemed to evaporate with little provocation aside from his liquid voice, piercing eyes, or crooked grin. Lord, I was a sucker, wasn't I?
He froze, though a quick glance revealed the contemplative quality behind his amber eyes.
It was a few seconds before he spoke.
"Ah," he groaned and shook his head absently. "This is wrong."
"What?" This?
"Don't you see, Lily? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved. I don't want to hear that you feel that way."
Another slap. Of course he didn't want to hear that I felt that way. Why would he? We both knew nothing could come from this … twisted, convoluted relationship we were kindling. Even if something could, why would he want to? It was ironic, really. He considered himself a monster because of what he was. Whereas, I was worse. At least he was something. Me, on the other hand, what was I? A freak.
"It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Lily – please, grasp that."
"I …," It was hard to speak. My inner turmoil was taking its toll. I knew he was right. He was still dangerous. But, to me, that didn't matter. I'd rather be in danger at his side then safe away from him.
"No." My tone was petulant at best, infantile at worst. I wasn't willing to let a little thing like his diet – all right, a big thing – get in the way of what I felt. I'd had so little in my life worth being grateful for. Now that there was even the remotest possibility that I could have a reason to live, dubious as it was, I wanted it.
"I'm serious." The words came out as a growl from between his teeth.
"So am I," I insisted. "I told you already, it doesn't matter to me what you are. It's too late."
It was … for me. I'd admitted my feelings – if only to myself – and accepted the myriad of possible consequences.
"Never say that," he hissed.
This was more like a sucker-punch to my gut. My breath whooshed out in one swift gust and I couldn't seem to get it back. The message behind this assault was clear – he wasn't remotely interested and my childish insistence was little more than an annoyance.
I looked away from him, staring down at the clammy pastiness of my hands. This shouldn't hurt this much. I should have known better than to imagine more than morbid curiosity or nobility lay behind our interactions. Edward was a vampire. I was … less than human. There was nothing about me that could intrigue him in that way.
Exerting effort to keep my breathing and heart rate level, I willed the wetness pooling in my eyes away. No use crying over spilled perfume.
"What are you thinking?" Curious, as though my answer was somehow relevant.
I shook my head, not trusting my voice at that moment. Besides, he wouldn't want to hear my thoughts. They were just more of the same – anguish, longing, confusion.
"Are you crying?" His voice carried an unfamiliar tone. Agony, maybe? Or was it disgust?
Despite my attempts to stem the tide, I felt the cool trickles running down my cheek. I bit my lip and swiped the streams with the back of my hand.
"No," my voice broke, betraying the lie. Why was it that I could lie to everyone else but him?
From the corner of my eye, I saw his hand reach out toward me as though he wanted to offer comfort. But then, just as hesitantly, he lowered it.
"I'm sorry," he conceded through locked jaws.
I took a deep breath but didn't comment. There was no point in trying to lie. I wasn't all right. I knew I would be … eventually, but I didn't know when.
"Tell me something," he said.
"What?"
"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn't understand your expression – you didn't look that scared, you looked like you were concentrating very hard on something."
Blood flooded my cheeks as I remembered staring down my attacker, "I was concentrating."
"On what?"
"Defending myself. I wasn't going down without a fight." The embarrassment I felt at revealing my murderous intentions was minimal. Instead, I was lost once more to the anger, the hatred.
"You were going to fight them?" His tone was incredulous. "Didn't you think about running?"
"I … no." I'd tried to escape them in the beginning, when the lackeys had pursued me through the alleys of Port Angeles. Once I'd been cornered, though – seen inside his head – I'd abandoned all thoughts of flight.
"What about screaming for help?"
"I was about to do that, when you pulled up." All right, so I was both naïve and reckless. My bloodlust had overcome years of instinct and training. Then again … Edward thought I was much more breakable than I actually was.
He shook his head in disbelief and a sour edge crept into his tone, "You were right. I'm definitely fighting Fate trying to keep you alive."
We came to a halt at the first stop light in town and I glanced out the window. What now? I thought. Was this the last time I was going to see him? Would he and his family disappear like the myths they were before sunrise? An ache started low in my stomach, twisting the muscles into hard knots.
When he turned onto my street, I decided I had to know. Waiting to find out would be worse than being able to say goodbye.
"Am I going to see you again?" It didn't come out exactly as I'd wanted, but it was close enough.
"Yes – I have a paper due tomorrow, too." He smirked conspiratorially at me. "I'll save you a seat at lunch."
My heart palpitated and it took effort to pull in my next breath, "You're certain?" I wanted assurance that he wouldn't simply vanish with the morning light.
"I promise."
"I'll hold you to that," I smirked and began removing my arms from his jacket sleeves.
"You can keep it," he told me. "You don't have a jacket for tomorrow."
I smiled ruefully, "And just how do you propose I explain it to Julia?"
"Oh, right." He smiled again and my head spun.
I reached for the door handle, fumbling through the haze of dizzying thoughts. I'd just turned my head to look for it, when he spoke again.
"Lily?"
"Yes?" Ah-ha! There it was! Now that my hand was locked around the handle, I didn't want to leave. This evening had been such a … relief from the rest of my life. Edward was the first person I could talk to with whom I didn't have to feign ignorance. He knew more about the world of unknowns than I did. Would this all disappear tomorrow? I wasn't sure if we'd ever be able to converse like this again – freely, as equals. I didn't want to lose this.
"Will you promise me something?"
"Yes." I wasn't thinking before I spoke. The instant the word left my mouth I was wary. Never agree to an open-ended statement. They always had a way of coming back to bite you. I bit my lip warily and waited.
"Don't go into the woods alone," he warned me.
"The woods?" I was confused. What was so dangerous about the woods? "Why?"
He glanced out at the darkness over the steering wheel before answering me in a dark tone, "I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave it at that."
An unintentional shiver ran down my spine. No. He wasn't. The others of his race – others not like him were more dangerous to me. And I already knew that they found me … appealing.
"As you wish." The promise was barely above a whisper.
He sighed and looked into my eyes, "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, then." I managed to get the door open.
"Lily?"
I turned only to find my face mere inches from Edward's. I froze as my heart went into overdrive.
"Sleep well," he whispered and leaned away.
It took me a few seconds before I could stumble my way out of the car. My legs had seemingly turned to jelly, needing the support of the car frame before solidifying. Once stable, I closed the door behind me and worked my way up to the front porch. When I slipped my key into the doorknob, I heard his car purr to life and I turned to watch it disappear into the night.
A/N: How's them cookies? Two updates in one day! I feel productive :D
Don't Forget to REVIEW! (It's like sending Christmas early)
Now, if only we could figure out why Edward isn't asking Lily about her own abnormalities ...
Food for thought ;P
