Chapter 9
Porcelain Doll
The corridor opened out to a large bright space, I guessed, three stories tall. There was a glorious spiral staircase as the main feature, a grand piano in one corner and the west wall had been removed and entirely replaced with glass. It offered a breathtaking view of the landscape. The property had extensive lawns, framed by cedars, that lead down to a lake.
Alice took both my hands and walked backwards, seemingly enjoying my reaction to the house. Her pull was barely there, more a gentle coax, allowing me to set the pace.
As we travelled up the giant staircase, Alice suddenly released one of my hands and pulled me behind her. She turned to look down towards the piano. Esme was standing next to it; I was surprised I had not noticed her before.
Esme seemed concerned, she stepped forward, her hand raised but hesitant, as if she was about to call out for us to stop. I guess that I shouldn't really be up and about yet.
When I turned back to Alice, her smile had fallen away, her look suddenly serious, defiant. She stood between myself and Esme in an almost protective way. The two held their glare for a few seconds, as if they were having a silent argument. If that was the case, Alice won, and Esme finally relented to her daughter. Eyes cast down, as if shamed, Esme turned and walked out.
Alice tugged on my hand and we began to ascend the stairs again.
"Am I gonna get you in trouble?" I asked.
"No." She said. "I can do that all by myself, thank-you very much."
The staircase led us to a long, wide hall, panelled in honey-colored wood. At the far end hung a large wooden crucifix, its dark patina contrasting with the lighter wall. The wood was aged, it looked hundreds of years old.
Alice paused to let me admire it.
"It looks ancient."
"Early sixteen-thirties, more or less." She smiled, "Don't be scared, here, feel." Her pale fingers gliding down the smooth wood. I touched lightly where she had, marvelling at the silken finish.
"This belonged to Carlisle's father. It used to hang in the vicarage where he preached."
Alice released my hand and took a few slow graceful steps back. She gently pushed open a door.
"This is my room." She said, her smile mischievous.
I swallowed, and entered.
Alice's room, like mine, opened out to the cedar forest, and I recognised the view. By my reckoning, her room was right above mine.
Alice's room was as open and airy as the rest of the house. It was painted in shades of off white with highly polished, dark wooden floorboards.
Two of the walls were lined with creme wardrobe doors. The third wall, through which we entered, was painted eggshell blue, and held a series of shelves which at a glance seemed to hold a host of curiosities- driftwood, bird skulls, seed pods, stones and books. In the corner by the window was an antique easel with a chair and a side table of art supplies. Behind that was one of those artist's filing drawers and a stylish creme chaise lounge. Near the wardrobes was a dresser and chair set, and in the corner, an array of three full length mirrors framed in honey colored wood. But something struck me as weird.
"No bed?" I asked, tentatively.
"Oh, this isn't my bedroom. This is my personal space. And more importantly…" she said, stepping to press on one of the white wall panels, "this is where I keep all my clothes."
The wardrobe doors whispered open and the blast of pure style caused me to die on the spot.
"Oh. My. Goddess." I gasped.
I must confess, my wardrobe back in California was absurdly extensive, but this? This was definitive.
Alice seemed inordinately proud and was clearly very happy of my appraisal.
"May I?" I said, and she enthusiastically gestured for me explore. She began to swiftly pluck garments from the racks.
"This is so you. Try this. Oh, and these." She passed me several items, pristine, if not brand new. "Oooh, and this." She rushed back and forth, holding up clothes, all of which where just… well… perfectly me- if a little darker and more subdued a palette than I was used to- however absolutely reflecting the environment of Forks.
"Alice, you have exquisite taste" I said, holding a dress to my body and looking in the mirror.
"Go on. Try it on. You know you want to." She said over her shoulder as she digged around in the wardrobe.
I realised then that I was her personal doll. And you know what? I didn't have a single problem with that at all. Nope. Not a one.
I stripped off my yoga mom top and slid the slate grey dress over my head. Dropping the pants as the silken fabric whispered over me. It fit perfectly. I smoothed it down and looked into the mirrors.
I noticed Alice's reflection. She was standing transfixed, her perfect lips twitching, as if she was stuck for words. I looked back at myself, trying to see what was wrong. Had I ruined the dress somehow? I blushed.
"Just… beautiful." She said, swallowing. She moved up behind me, gazing at my reflection over my shoulder. I felt suddenly vulnerable. A lamb next to a lion. I didn't belong in this dress, or this house. My body trembled lightly and there was the urge to run, but I was frozen to the spot.
Alice's hand moved to touch my arm, but she stopped, and it hovered an inch from my flesh. I felt goosebumps raise. She seemed mesmerized, not by the dress, but by my throat. Her tongue traced over her lips, and I felt mine do the same.
Suddenly, she jerked her head down and away, in the same manner Edward had- like she heard something. A calmness seamed to wash over her and she let out a breath which caressed my neck.
Alices hand lowered and she backed away from me. I was breathing heavily now, still unable to move.
"Shoes." She said, as if they were the last thing on her mind. "We need shoes to match. You look like my size." She walked to another wardrobe and opened the double doors.
The string of sounds that flew from my lips wasn't any language known to man, but it neatly expressed what I saw inside.
...
A few hours later I was back in my room, exhausted but positively glowing. I guess Esme was right to be concerned, because my body was aching and I felt dizzy.
The bed, sturdy as it was, felt like it was swaying like a ship on a calm ocean.
I knew sleep would take me soon, but I was eager to keep talking to Alice. She asked me to come shopping with her to Seattle as soon as I was well enough, and I agreed on the spot. I am only human, after all.
Alice has spoiled me rotten. my haul of clothes sat in the corner of my room in sizeable bag. I felt guilty of the excess she had showered on me- even at a rough estimate, the clothes where probably worth way more than Charlie made in a year.
Alice sat in the chair Edward was reading in before. She seemed loathe to leave my side.
"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" I said.
"Of course." she said. "I'll be right here."
...
I was dreaming. Corridors of ancient, yellowed marble, curving around into darkness. I could hear distant screams echoing.
I saw a young woman dressed in a dark hooded cloak walking briskly, her boots clacking on the worn stone. Her face was round, framed with blond hair, and she reminded me of a porcelain doll. Her vibrant red pupils in her expressionless eyes told me what she really was.
The girl stops by a doorway where a man lurks, she tilts her head to listen to him.
"The Slayer is dead. Another called." the man's gravelly voice says.
"Where?"
"Boston."
"Make the arrangements."