Chapter 9

11:06:PM

If Edward were not already dead, he would have been now; he was at a total loss as to what was going on. He took a deep breath and pushed it out hard; the sound echoing in the dark chamber in which he was just sucked into.

He knew he had not been knocked unconscious, but he had hit the wall with enough force to leave a sizable dent in the brick. He reached out and touched the cool wet surface of the concrete floor.

It was so dark that he was not even sure if his eyes were open. It took him longer than normal to have his sense of sight adjust to the darkness.

Edward pushed himself up and then plopped back down on his bottom, crossing his legs and dropping his head into his hands. He needed to think, to clear his head. Bella!

Slowly he reconstructed the events in his head; everything up to the point in which he had been deposited here. There was Betty, the killers, the house, the basement with the strange halls and doors, and the black closet, assuming he was inside a black closet.

He tilted his head to listen. No humming. No sound at all for that matter, besides the sound of his unnecessary breaths.

Edward hoisted himself off the pavement, standing to his feet and began to feel around. He already knew there was a wall behind him. He stretched his hands out front, extending as far as he could. Nothing. He took a few steps, but he became so turned around he was not even sure which direction he was traveling, at least not without any light.

The lighter. Edward reached into his pocket and withdrew his lighter. It took him a few tries, but it eventually ignited.

A long passage with a rough concrete floor and arched brick ceiling ran in both directions. Edward turned and saw the door. He reached over and turned the knob. Locked, figures.

He noticed that the lighter never flickered; that meant no draft. Then what had sucked him through the door? Could an underground draft even do something like that?

Don't say I didn't warn you.

For the first time, Edward felt fear run through him. Welcome to my house. What if White knew something about this house? What if this game were not about White, Betty, or even his family? What if it were about the house?

Edward shook his head to get that thought out of his mind. It made no sense; a house was not a living being. It could not change or harm someone on a whim. Then again, look at who he was; someone that should not exist. A house was a house. White, on the other hand, was a demented psychopath driven by his thirst for killing. Edward knew about such thirst. He had left Carlisle long ago, traveling the world to feast on the same thirst. But times had changed, things had changed. He had regretted every moment of it since, especially once Bella had come into his life.

Edward leaned against the brick wall for support. The house might be part of his sick plot, but there was no way that the house could be the real threat; a house can't kill. You need blood and flesh to do that. Right?

He could ponder more of this later; right now, his only concern was to get back to the others, especially to Bella. He knew that his brothers and sisters would be able to handle themselves. Or he at least hoped so.

Edward took a deep breath, trying to focus. The silence, the stillness, the not knowing why or what was beginning to get to him. He had become so used to the constant jumbling of voices in his head, that this, the no noise, was driving him crazy. He should be running through these tunnels looking for a way out, not letting the lack of noise get the best of him.

The tunnel went black all of a sudden and then he realized the flame from the lighter had gone out. He flicked it once and the flame brought on the dim light again. He suddenly decided that he did not like this one bit but was at a total loss. The loss of all of his senses was starting to be more than he could bear. He needed to get out of this tunnel and fast. He need to get to the others, he needed to get to Bella.

He once again looked down the long passageways; both directions looked exactly the same and he did not have a reason to go in either direction. He turned on his heel and went right. The drafts that had sucked him in had to have come from somewhere, hopefully another entrance from beyond this hellhole. If he could find an exit, slip past White and run with all the passion and desire that was fueling him right now, he could make it to the next town and get help.

But he knew deep down that Bella would not survive long without him. Memories of her after he had left a year ago went flashing through his mind. The pain that he had caused her; the pain that she still had whenever they were separated, even for his short hunting trips. He would be able to get help only if he knew for sure that Bella was with the others or with him.

He let go of the lighter and in the brief moment of pitch blackness, the terror he'd felt earlier came roaring back to the surface, now without any distractions from contemplation.

He turned and looked down the tunnel in which he had just walked. There was something evil in this house.

He had to find a way out of this tunnel before the lighter ran out of fluid. How long had he even been down here anyway? Edward lit the lighter for a third time and took to a slow run.

A long scream reached his ears from deep within the concrete and brick walls. He pulled himself to a stop and listened. It sounded more male than female. As quickly as he'd heard it, the scream stopped.

He started running again and had made it about thirty feet when he came face to face with a large wooden door. Edward reached out and turned the knob. Locked. Just like every other miserable door in this miserable house.

Edward turned and ran in the opposite direction, again stopped by a dead end. With the same wooden door. Locked.

How is this possible? Where did the draft come from? I got in here, there has to be a way out!

The thought of being trapped down here forever in the dark, dank tunnel filled his being with a new sense of urgency. He could sense panic rise deep inside.

Edward began to walk back through the tunnel for a third time, his hands running the length of the walls in search of the door through which he had come. Maybe he could go back through that door and into the study. He traveled the entire length and no door. It had vanished.

Impossible. I know that I came through the door, I felt it first thing!

He made a sprint back to the other end to the same wooden door, but nothing had changed; it was still locked and it was solid as a tree. He took a few steps back and attempted to run right through the door. Not even a splinter fell off.

One final run at his full speed into the door at the opposite side with the same results sealed Edward's understanding of his predicament. There was no way out.

The faint sound of singing reached his ears. The same voice he had heard at least a half dozen of times since entering this house. A sweet song that he had burned into his memory, one he would recognize anywhere.

The flame began to flicker and then died. He decided to save the fuel for later; exactly when 'later' would be, he didn't know. Edward leaned against the wall and slid slowly down to the concrete floor. He dropped his head into his hands. If he could cry, he would have welcomed the feeling of tears right now. The tunnel went dark and he tried to get his racing mind to slow.

&

There were times when being beautiful came in handy. Rose had been around enough humans to know that her long legs and great curves could bring on the type of attention that she sometimes didn't want. But this Pete guy gave her the kind of attention that she definitely was ready to get rid of. The thought of him striking her repulsed her. She looked up and over to Emmett who was crouched and ready pounce. Rose just shook her head in the slightest movement that Pete would never see. This person had not even flinched when his hand collided with her granite skull. They were dealing with someone or something that might be very similar to them. And if that were the case, they might need more than just her and Emmett to take him down. Rose did the only thing she knew. She upped her charms and 'talents' and continue to play his game.

"Please," Pete said, "I don't want to hurt you. But you have to eat it. You are guilty. If you don't eat your sin, it will eat you; that's what Mama always says. I know if you tried it, you would like it."

What was it with him and sin? "I am not guilty of any sin!" Rose yelled out angrily, her eyes beginning to get darker by the second. "I don't care what that bitch that you call a mother has stuffed into your head and your mouth. I am not going to eat that shit!"

The venom that had pooled into her mouth, she spat at Pete with all the power she had in her and hit him square in the eye. Emmett stood back and watched, waiting for the deranged man to start withering in pain; but as the seconds ticked by, nothing happened.

Other than the fact that Rose spitting in his face enraged Pete even more. He took a fistful of rotten dog food and shoved it into Rose's mouth. Rose spit that out all the same.

"If your mother forced you to eat this crap, then she is a pig!" Rose said.

Pete dropped to his knees and placed his hands over his ears. "No, no, no. Guilty, Guilty. You have to eat. You have to."

"No. I. Don't!"

Rose was beginning to realize that eating this garbage was a pivotal part of Pete. It was obviously part of his religion; real as Heaven and Hell were to him. An extension of society's obsession with faith in the nonexistent powers of God and Satan. This is what Rose was beginning to believe. But she knew the truth. There could be no God, because if there were, he would not have allowed the creation of her kind.

Rose had never hated religion as much as she did at this very moment.

"Are you innocent?" Pete asked, dragging her mind out of the far sides.

"Yes," she said, her voice still strong.

Pete stood up, shocked by her answer. It was apparent that her claim to be innocent had offended Pete. "You're better than me?"

Rose was tired of playing this game; it had to end. She walked over to Emmett and took hold of his hand. "My husband and I are going to leave now. And if you know what is best for you, you will step out of the way. Because believe me, we are better than you and we have no problem killing you either."

"Bad wife!" Pete yelled, totally ignoring Emmett, Pete closed the gap between them in two long strides. He took hold of Rose by the arm, dragged her like a Barbie doll over to the round target board, and then strapped her in.

Emmett tried to make a move to save Rose, but he was stuck, as if an invisible force were holding him there; powerless to save his wife.

"Please, what are you doing?" Rose screamed out with panic in her eyes.

Pete gave the wheel one hard spin. "Now tell me when you've learned."

Rose began to scream long and loud as her world began to spin. Where the hell is everyone else?

Rose could see Pete throwing something into the air, aiming right for her. The point of the dart bounced off of her thigh, bending the tip.

Pete walked over and picked it up to examine it. "What are you?"