Through a Glass, Darkly

by Moody Peach

[New Moon AU] Bella took a hard fall and awoke a week later as a newborn vampire with no memory of her former self — and she is far from alone. When she is found years later by a vampire coven who claim to love her, she must find a way to navigate her fractured memories and discover who she truly was and who she has become.

10. Hope

Time is an alien concept to me ever since I awoke as a timeless creature.

Although it has been a mere day since the Cullens—at the behest of Alice—packed their bags and vacated the Ithaca home, it feels as if weeks have gone by since I last saw the tiny, raven-haired woman and her eccentric relatives.

True to his word Edward had driven me to a secluded area to feed, and after staring longingly at him while he avoided eye contact did I finally sigh and charge into the sprawl of forest, dozens of little heartbeats singing to life for me.

After I had finished and returned several hours later, he had motioned to the flecks of blood on my shirt and said, "Messy, huh?" His tone had been laced with humor, but said humor did not reach his eyes.

Now as the night descends on us, I struggle to combat boredom.

And it's not to say that Edward is dull—far from it, in fact. However, he won't engage in familiar activities in my presence, like playing the piano or listening to music, and I can only gaze moodily at him while he innocently combs through a magazine.

"Reading anything interesting?"

He glances at me placidly. "Not at all. It's a TIME piece on somebody called 'Kardashian.' Hardly noteworthy from what I'm gathering."

"So I've got a question."

"You're full of questions."

"What did somebody your age do for fun back when you were human?"

Chuckling, he tosses the magazine aside and leans forward in his seat. "Well, there was dancing. I quite enjoyed the theater, but most of my time as a youth was spent with my mother—I loved playing for her while she sat and read."

My heart swells and warmth spreads through my body. "Wow, that's very sweet. You were close to your mom?"

A shadow passes across his face for a second before he says, "Yes, I loved her dearly. She was the center of my universe and the clearest memory of my human years."

"The clearest… Explain?"

His voice is soft and gentle when he answers. "My memories of my humanity are hazy—like a pool of murky water. But somewhere in there I have a crystal clear image of my mother. She had an oval face and a lovely set of green eyes… Her hair always fell in waves. I admired everything about her, from her unselfish attitude to her unspoiled love for life and art."

"I'm sorry for bringing her up." I rub my arms as if a chill has entered the room. Big mouth, huh? His amber eyes are fierce with affection, and I can tell he's sunken into his own memories.

"I don't mind talking about her." He shrugs. "My father had paid for my piano lessons, but it had been my mother who encouraged me every step of the way."

"What was her name?" I quietly inquire after a long pause.

"Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth," I echo, feeling it on my tongue. "Elizabeth and Edward."

He laughs lightly. "My father's name was Edward, actually."

"How did you…?"

How did you die? It's an awkward question, but given what we are it's hardly an offensive one. We are the undead.

"Influenza. It struck Chicago hard, and it took my mother and father with it."

Bitter sorrow floods my veins. "I'm sorry, I… That's awful."

"Everybody dies, Bella," he states, gazing at me through heavily-hooded eyes. "Some of us have simply… prolonged it."

"You think we'll eventually meet our own end?" I inhale sharply.

"I think that the concept of eternity isn't so simple," he retorts, smirking. "The sun will trigger earth's demise, after all. And who's to say vampires won't find themselves on the run from evolving human warfare?"

In spite of the dark discussion at hand, I giggle to myself. "I can't imagine being harmed by a human."

"And I never imagined becoming a vampire or iPods or nuclear weapons, but here we are."

"One of those is not like the others."

"The point is that we shouldn't have so much faith in our immortality."

My jaw tightens. "Are you always so fatalistic?"

"It's logical."

"It's pessimistic," I counter, falling back against the sofa.

He rolls his eyes. "I've never pretended to be an optimist."

"I can see that."

I can see every part of Edward.

He's cynical with his heart dipped in darkness, and yet he clings to the light like a newborn baby and its mother. In spite of my history of blood, he cherishes my soul—but he cannot find it in himself to search for his own redemption.

Paradoxical and theatrical, Edward Cullen isn't nearly as intuitive as he perceives himself to be, and I think deep down he's aware of this fault.

Shoving my laughter back in my throat, I smile brightly at him instead. "So what kind of dancing did you do back in the day?"

"It was carefree and jaunty, and I… Well, I never cared for it, really."

"So I take it nobody ever asked you to dance?"

He glares at the devious smirk on my face. "I was busy."

"Busy playing the piano," I tease, poking his shoulder tauntingly. "Were you ever… involved with anybody?"

"I told you, I've never—"

"That doesn't mean you've never casually dated or kissed anybody," I argue, crossing my arms. "Or have you always been asexual?"

He gapes at me and his face drains of color (which is strange considering we don't have blood pumping in our bodies). "I'm not asexual."

"There's nothing wrong with it," I say, but on the inside I'm screaming. Oh God, what if he is asexual?

"I value monogamy in its more traditional form," he explains, his shoulders falling.

"Like engagement, marriage, kids, and all that jazz?"

A look of agony hardens in his eyes. "Do you want children?"

Blinking rapidly, I say, "Uh, no. I can't speak for my former self, but I don't really think it's something I cared about."

She was screaming. I took her parents away—and then I took her life too.

"I'm sorry if I come across as cold, but I'm just trying to do this right."

Edward then lifts his hand, his palm open and awaiting mine. Hesitantly I place my own hand over his, and his fingers curl through mine. A bolt of lightning surges through me.

"Edward, I'm not interested in marriage," I elaborate while also squeezing his hand in reassurance; the memory of my first kill tucks itself back into the darkest corner of my mind. "It just seems pointless to me."

His disposition sobers. "What about dating?" The term is awkward and childlike on his tongue.

I smile at him, my mouth stretched wide. "That sounds fun." I pause, deliberating on the subject, before asking, "Have you ever dated anybody besides me?"

"When I was sixteen I thought the local minister's daughter was charming," he admits, eyeballing me in anticipation. "But in the end I was too invested in my own habits to pursue those feelings. I didn't want to marry knowing I may end up dying in war."

"You wanted to be a soldier?" I gape.

"It was honorable and I wanted to defend my country," he replies flippantly. "All the glory and distinction of a soldier's life made an impression on me, but it had been my mother and eventually the sickness that kept me in Chicago."

I rub my thumb against his hand still curled in mine, and my undead heart feels as if it's fluttering—all my senses (touch, scent, sight, sound) hum to life, dwelling anxiously just beneath the surface of my porcelain-white skin. "I can't imagine you as a soldier," I whisper, my voice huskier than I'd realized. "You're not rough enough for that."

"Even knowing my past?" He stares sensually at me.

And here we are: He's plucked his heart from his chest and he's handing it to me.

Brand me, his eyes plead. Murderer. Unworthy. Sinner.

Although I find his perception of himself absurd, I know it burdens him terribly. Whereas religion is a mere blip on my radar, the concepts of purgatory and hell challenge him everyday.

He's waiting at the entrance of Heaven, begging for forgiveness.

"You felt trapped," I argue, my own eyes bearing into his. "Carlisle never gave you a choice, and I think you just sort of snapped for awhile. You hurt shitty men? Oh, big deal. There are too many bad men in this world anyway."

"I've never heard you curse before," he laughs darkly, his voice deep and emotional.

"I've been known to dabble when the occasion calls for it."

"You're different, Bella." He moves a lock of hair behind my ear. Friction buzzes between us. "You're… unyielding. And you're impressively observant."

"I had to be," I whisper, resting my head against his shoulder and lowering our intertwined hands onto my lap. "I was constantly in the path of a hurricane."

He nods rigidly. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop her. I hunted her, but my tracking skills aren't exactly in a good shape."

"Don't be sorry." I tighten my grip. "I think I was always meant to be a vampire."

"It could've have been softer." With his free hand he caresses my arm, his nimble fingers burning like fire against my flesh. I shudder. "It didn't have to be violent and bloody."

"I passed through hell and I survived. I was like a phoenix rising from the ashes." I chuckle. "It's fine, Edward. I want to be a part of your family. I want this. Victoria is in the past." The hole in my chest widens, but I ignore it and persist through the icy caverns of my fears and desires. "I'm not worried about what happened. I'm worried about how I fit into your life." Craning my neck and gazing up at him, I ask in a hushed voice, "Why won't you hunt with me?"

He lowers his head slightly and his gaze straightens as he faces forward. "I'm afraid I'll lose control," he breathes out, his entire frame trembling.

I grasp his hand hard and my eyebrows pulls together. "I'm not breakable. I can handle it."

"You wouldn't be in danger," he acknowledges.

I blink several times. "Then what are you afraid of?"

"When we feed, we're primitive. Every sense is animalistic and every instinct is raw."

"I guess." I peer up at him, befuddled. "Do you think we'll fight over blood?"

"I think every feeling we have for each will surface and take the reins—every feeling. How do you feel when you hunt, Bella?"

I quiver slightly then, my brain slowly trailing after his words as I struggle to comprehend their meaning. "I, ah… I feel amazing. Exuberant."

"It's feverish, right?" He shakes his head, seemingly repulsed. "You're being consumed by your own cravings and wants and needs. Blood. I imagine it's what humans feel when they've pumped heroin into their feeble veins."

I nod a few times, my fingers loosening around his. "I get it—kind of."

"I was born in a different time, Bella," he sighs, hearing the disappointment in my tone. "I can't imagine becoming undone around you in such a harsh, carnal manner."

"You should fear me," I jest, smiling crookedly at him. Tension bubbles in the atmosphere. The air feels too thick; repressive. I want to curl into myself, close my eyes, and sink into the dark abyss of sightlessness. (I can't sleep, after all; the thought that wounds me.) "I'm stronger than you. I'm faster than you."

Edward arches an eyebrow. "Hmm. I suppose you'd have the advantage over me for now."

"So you're nervous that your bloodlust will be overridden by….?" I can't muster the confidence to finish the sentence. I'm like those flustered, blubbering women in films, all blushing cheeks and fluttering eyelashes. Get a grip, Bella.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yes."

"I see your point," I say, slowly retracting my hand and folding both of my hands on my lap. "I don't agree with it, but I can see where you're coming from. But Edward, I meant what I said: I don't care about engagements or weddings or any of that."

He nods solemnly. "Can you tell me why? I don't think you're wrong, per se, but I would prefer clarity on your feelings."

"Who's to say you won't lose interest in me years from now?" Biting my lower lip, I smile sadly at him. "Or our differences clash too much and it becomes too much? You want marriage. I don't. You want a traditional relationship as man and wife, and I want something lawless and natural… with you. You believe in souls. I think the universe isn't that complicated. Hell, Edward, what even is a soul? Sentience? Self-awareness? Who the hell knows!" I slide down the sofa, my shoulders low and my posture slacking. Grimacing, I say, "How's this going to work? How do I know you won't leave… It wouldn't be the first time."

Edward clenches his jaw and his expression is hard and severe. "I wish I could hear your thoughts. Have you always had these feelings?"

I gesture with my hand dismissively. "Kind of. They change depending on my mood. And it doesn't help that I don't really know what you're thinking either," I retort.

"I won't leave you." I eye him dubiously and he scowls. "I can't expect you to have faith in me after everything that has happened, but can I ask a favor of you?"

"It depends."

"Can you answer me honestly? How can I earn your trust and your forgiveness? Please tell me."

I snort. "I've forgiven you awhile ago, Edward. But I don't think my problem is trust. It's like you said: I don't have faith. Not like you do. And being distant doesn't help," I snipe, glaring sharply at him. "You were pulling away and now you're all over me. It's confusing! And I sympathize with you, I really do, but I think you rely on your telepathy too much… Believe me, I wish you could read my mind right now."

"Well, that's a first. You've always cherished your mental privacy."

"Clearly it's causing problems with how you interact with me, so—"

"I'm daft, aren't I?" He places his face in his hands and hunches over, distressed. I straighten my back and gaze at him, wide-eyed. "Alice called me a 'foolish, prideful, know-it-all who knows nothing' before she left. I'm sorry."

"We're in a good place," I state evenly, hooking my arm around his. "It's not stable and it's a bit complicated, but it's good. We just have to work on it—maybe some compromises."

"What would these compromises entitle?"

I smile cheerily in response. "We have differences. That's okay. Let's learn how to handle these differences. But right now, just let yourself be comfortable and open with me. Please. So I'm gonna ask you this: Can you play the piano for me? I want to hear it."

Edward, nodding, gingerly takes my hand and peels me off the couch. We leisurely exit the room and stroll down the hallway, our arms still linked. Glancing at him, I can't help but inwardly gloat at the lazy smile on his face.

He's relaxed—finally.

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On our second day together I am in disarray while lingering in the entryway. Edward hovers by my side, his hand clasped around mine in reassurance.

He is also restraining me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper lowly, my eyes firmly closed. Sunlight leaks in through the windows and decorates our skin.

The front door seems too big, too thick.

"They'll be gone soon," he promises. "They're just passing through."

We had been enjoying our afternoon sprawled out in the living room listening to an audiobook when a vicious pang of bloodlust had entrapped me in its suffocating embrace. The scent of sweat and skin burned in my throat and without thinking I had scurried to my feet and had rushed to the door.

A horrifying snarl had rumbled in my chest when Edward had grasped my hand and yanked me back.

From what I can gather, between five and eight young human boys are running several miles away through the woods. There are no popular hiking spots or maintained trails in the area, but humans can be quite curious—and stupid—about unventured land.

"They're going for a light jog," Edward assures, pressing a featherly light kiss against my temple, momentarily breaking me from my trance. "They're most likely high schoolers or college-aged."

I tremble furiously, my throat screaming to release it of the agonizing ache spreading through me. "It's the sweat… I don't get it... Makes them smell… good."

Juicy.

It makes them fresh and moist, like a hot loaf of bread or a ripe peach—

"Think of them as people," he begs while rubbing circles on my back with his palm. "They're not food. They're living beings with souls, families, loved ones, pets."

"Let me go," I plead, my voice cracking from the pressure.

"No."

"It hurts," I whine, massaging my throat and my neck. "It… aches."

"It will pass."

"When?" I demand, but even then the scent begins to fade. I cling to the aroma, my eyes scanning the cloudy haze that peppers the air as if a barely visible energy tethers me to my prey. My hands quiver; I grind my teeth noisily, nostrils flared.

After several minutes spent in tepid silence, my heightened sense of smell and hearing begin to dwindle back into hibernation. Edward's fingers remain firmly coiled around my wrist. If I was human, the bones in my hand would have surely broken and crumbled by now.

"You did great," he comments soothingly, utilizing his free hand to caress my hair.

My tightened jaw twitches. "Don't lie to me. Please."

"I'm not," he says earnestly, shrugging his shoulders once. "You didn't react too aggressively when I grabbed you and you didn't fight me. I've seen worse newborn behavior in Emmett, for Christ's sake."

"I can't imagine anybody restraining him."

"Oh, we failed spectacularly."

"I could practically see their scent," I murmur, turning on my heel to stare at Edward with wounded eyes. "It was like a ribbon tying me to them."

He gently cups my face in his hands and brushes his lips across my forehead. "It was tempting, yes. But you resisted."

"I didn't take your advice," I say, my throat stinging. "I didn't think of them at all. I could only focus on their smell and what it was doing to me."

"And yet you never attempted to release yourself from me," he argues, looping his arm around my shoulders and sweeping me into a tender embrace. A smile tugs at my lips and sensations of pleasure ripple through my body. "You waited it out."

I chuckle lightly. "That makes me sound like an addict in detox."

"It's not particularly different," he says, smiling impishly.

"My name's Bella Swan and I'm a blood addict," I giggle.

"I'm glad you can find humor in the situation."

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Sunlight hums against my skin, breathing warmth into me. Greedily I soak it up like a sponge, my eyes closed as I lazily lounge against an outdoor chaise in Esme's elaborate garden. My skin refracts like thousands of diamonds.

"You're like a house cat," Edward teases, sinking down beside me. I scoot to the side, allowing him room. "You love the sun."

"It feels good." I curl my arm around his waist and press against him. He hooks his arm around my body while resting his arm hand behind his head. Joy blossoms in my chest.

Insects buzz serenely and the smell of marigold and lavender perfumes the air. I can hear the rapid of thumping of a hummingbird's wings.

"Esme purposefully planted specific flowers to attract bees," Edward says, his thoughts seemingly synchronizing with my own. "She wants to save them from extinction."

"That's so sweet."

"Her quirks are charming," he agrees. I peek at him through the slant of sunlight. His honey-gold eyes are rich and twinkling, and his jawline is slack; relaxed.

Good God, he is handsome.

"How'd you stand to be around me when I was human?" Even two days later my mind wanders to the enriching scent of human blood that had wrapped its aura around me. Edward had explained their running—the pounding hearts and flushed skin—had triggered my predatory instincts; like when you turn your back to a big cat they will attack. Perhaps if they had been on a leisurely stroll I may have reacted in a less violent manner.

"I held my breath. I thought about the empty shell I would become if you died."

"But you never thought of just turning me into a vampire?" I press, blinking in confusion.

"You know how I feel about hell and damnation."

"But I would've died eventually." I prop myself up, gazing down at him curiously. "Old age, remember?"

"I…" His eyebrows pull together and his butterscotch-gold eyes melt. "I had plans."

I quirk an eyebrow at him. "Um. What?"

"It's nothing."

"It doesn't sound like nothing," I argue, spearing him with a venomous glare. "That's not even possible."

He turns his head away and closes his eyes as if the weight of my gaze has become too much. "It is when it involves another of our kind," he murmurs.

"That's sick." I blanch. "Who would eve do that? Your family…. No, they would never!'

"Of course not," he exclaims, opening his eyes and gawking at me. "I would've pled my case to the Volturi."

"Them?" I still harbor vague knowledge of the Volturi, but I can't imagine they'd be inclined to confront a subject as absurd as a suicidal, grief-stricken vampire. "Would they even agree?"

"Probably not," he answers doubtfully. "But I could have supplied them with a compelling reason."

"And what would that be?" I press, irritated.

"I could've broken a law—exposed myself to humans. I could've made a scene right outside their doorstep. I'm certain they would've responded then."

"That's twisted," I whisper, a violent iciness slicing my heart into pieces. "Humans move on when their loved ones die," I point out.

"Humans are also pressed for time."

"Doesn't that seem silly though? It means they're more emotionally intelligent than we are, don't you think?"

Edward humors me with a lopsided smile before saying, "They're captive to time. Naturally they must learn how to handle death. And their brains are not like ours—they forget. They heal."

"We're frozen," I sigh. "Broken, really."

"Broken together," he corrects, tugging me down and circling his arms around my body.

I bite my lower lip in anticipation as a tremble of pleasure echoes across my body. Indecision lingers in the back of my mind for half of a second before I settle on chasing after the fire spreading through me. Against my better judgement I lift my chin, staring evenly at Edward's serene face for a moment, and then plant a bruising kiss on his mouth.

"Bella," he murmurs, although his tone is not one of warning as I had thought it would be. Instead it's welcoming and loving.

Awkward and inexperienced, I sweep my tongue through his parted lips and across his own tongue. My fingers nestle in his hair and I feel his fingers, nimble and skillful, dip into my thigh. The marble skin miraculously curves against his touch. The space between my thighs thrums and radiates, and a throaty moan escapes my mouth.

It feels too good—need to stop—can't stop—

Abruptly Edward recoils, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open.

My stomach drops. "I'm sorry!"

"No, it's… Did you just speak to me aloud a second ago?"

I untangle myself from him and pull back. "No."

"But I heard you," he protests.

"I didn't say anything."

"You said…" He breathes in heavily and whispers, "You said it felt 'too good.'"

"No, I was just thinking—oh no!" I cup my hands over my mouth and blink rapidly at him. "I don't want you to read my mind—ever," I cry, my shoulders shaking.

He shakes his head at me and extends his hand; his fingers run down my arm, and it feels as if a trail of flames has ignited against my skin. "You let me in," he says in astonishment, his eyes bright and happy. "I could feel your mind."

"It was an accident," I say, my hands falling to my sides. I slide off the chaise and begin to take steady steps away from Edward; he rises to his feet and trails slowly after me, his expression still one of bewilderment and joy.

"You let your guard down and your shield went down with it."

I scowl at him in return. "I won't let it happen again."

"Would it be so bad?" He curls an eyebrow. "To let me in?"

"Yes," I hiss.

"I don't want to know any of your secrets," he offers, his head tilted to the side. His hair is tousled—more than normal, in fact. Did I do that? "I liked hearing your voice."

"Well, I don't want you inside of me like that," I counter, realizing too late how my words sound when spoken out in the open. Shellshocked, I clamp my hands over my mouth again and beg my legs not to collapse from the mighty weight of my humiliation.

A familiar scent fast approaches and Edward and I both turn rapidly—Edward is far more vexed than I am. Further out I can hear a car pedaling down the lengthy driveway.

"Hello there," Alice beams, strutting through the garden with a knowing smile on her elfin face.

"Alice," I whisper, dropping my arms at my sides and hurrying to her side. She grins and embraces me affectionately.

"It's only been six days," she teases.

"We were promised seven," Edward grumbles from behind me.

Alice's expression sobers. "I know. But something has happened. Have you been paying attention to the news?"

"We've been busy."

"Not from what I saw," she snickers.

I gaze severely at her. "Alice," I whine.

"The news report," Edward interrupts, sidestepping me and clamping a steady hand on Alice's shoulder. "You think it's Victoria?"

"Victoria?" I spring forward, grasping Alice's upper arm. "Did you see her?"

"It's in the news," she states, flicking both of our hands away. "There's a serial killer in Seattle."

"Oh." The spike of adrenaline that had stabbed my chest immediately cools. "Humans murder each other all of the time. Why do you think it's Victoria?"

"We went to Seattle."

Edward scowls at Alice. "I'm seeing your thoughts more clearly now, Alice. You were being reckless," he scolds.

"When we saw what was happened on the news we were suspicious," she says, her tone sour. "We didn't want to cause you any panic though in case it turned out to be of human origin."

"What'd you find in Seattle?" I interject impatiently.

"We found her scent. It was a weak trail and she's terribly good at the art of disappearing, but even more worrisome is the multiple scents we found."

"More than one vampire?"

"Are you serious, Alice?" Edward pinches the bridge of his nose.

"So it's like what we thought before?" Dejected, I let my shoulders fall. "She's creating newborns."

She sighs. "It seems that way. Humans have been disappearing from the Seattle region—humans with athletic backgrounds, humans with strong educations. She's targeting smart, strong young men and women."

"Why haven't the Volturi intervened?" Edward's voice is sharp and furious. "Humans have noticed what's happening. They're reporting on it for God's sake."

Jasper appears then, moving around a patch of flowers and positioning himself beside his wife. Somehow he's even more agitated than Edward. "The Volturi had been there. They were monitoring the situation, from what we can tell."

"They may have even approached her," Alice explains, running her hand up and down Jasper's arm. "Six humans have officially gone missing. The 'killings' stopped two months ago, however. It had happened in such rapid succession that the police had become worried."

"They're still reporting it on it though," I say. "Right?"

"It's been brought to attention again simply because they have no leads. But it's obvious they may be forced to drop the case soon, or at least put it on the backburner. Their attentions have deviated to a recent mass shooting. The human attention span is a fickle thing."

"Alice, you said six humans have officially gone missing? Do you think there are more?" Edward demands.

"We lingered near the local homeless encampments," Alice answers somberly, "and from what we've gathered they are scared. Their friends have gone missing."

"But naturally the Seattle media doesn't care," Jasper states plainly.

I quiver at his words. "Why would the Volturi help her?"

"They wouldn't be helping Victoria, per se," Jasper says, his eyes ripe with sympathy as his eyes graze my own terrified ones. "They're the court—she was likely dealt a warning. Building her own territory isn't behavior they would frown on. As long as she keeps it contained, of course."

"Do you think we could explain what happening?" Edward hugs my waist, pulling me closer. "Carlisle is a friend of Aro, after all."

Alice shakes her head. "I've already spoken to Carlisle. He's fond of his time in Volterra, but he doesn't have faith in Aro." She shares a strong look with Edward and he scoffs.

"What?" I urge.

"Aro is the head of the Volturi alongside Caius and Marcus. He collects gifted vampires, for lack of a better term. He may try to break our family if it means acquiring our talents."

The sun is starting to dip below the horizon and the trees and landscape begin to quiet. Everything Jasper and Alice have been saying whirls around in my head. Helplessness digs its heels into my soul. My senses prickle; I can hear slumbering nocturnal creatures shaking their sleepiness off as the night descends.

After a silent moment passes between the four of us, I ask, "So we're on our own?"

"Victoria has no experience in breeding an army," Jasper says, patting my shoulder. "She's been messy. She wouldn't dare travel great distances with her newborns either."

"... So we're hiding?"

A growl vibrates in Edward's chest. "No."

"In all likelihood her endeavor will be her downfall," Alice says flippantly.

"We can't approach her," Jasper explains, throwing Edward a critical look. "Newborns are difficult and dangerous. If we dare take her down, we have to figure out how many newborns she has created and where she's settled. And we will need help."

"I've been seeing flashes in my visions," Alice offers. "I don't see Victoria, but I can the interior of a warehouse."

"Invaluable information," Edward drawls in a surly tone.

"Edward," Jasper and I warn simultaneously although it's Alice who speaks first, saying, "I know you're frightened for Bella's safety, brother, but you know my visions can't always protect or aid us." She pointedly gestures at me.

I chew on my bottom lip and glance warily at Edward. His irises have hardened and his hands are locked into fists.

Breathing in deeply, I summon a memory: The fear, rage, and longing that had rooted itself into my heart when I reunited with Edward. Even then I was aware he wasn't a beast nor a monster. That caricature had been a wicked fairytale woven by Victoria to ensnare me in her web. The wounds scarring my soul have not entirely healed, but the love I harbor for Edward is full of hope—for a strong future, for a path forged by our bond to one another, for safety and security.

While I pierce through the ice armoring Edward's eyes, a revelation sends a wave of shock resounding through my body.

You won't leave me, I think, the walls caging my heart tumbling into oblivion. I trust you.

Edward freezes.

"What's wrong?" Jasper demands, irritated, while his gaze wanders from me to Edward and then to his wife.

"I, too, am puzzled," Alice says, hooking her arm around her husband's elbow.

"I've learned some new things about my gift," I joke while stifling a laugh under my breath.

"Is this is in any way connected to the strange expression on my dear brother's helpless face?" she surmises, smirking.

"Mhmm."

Jasper chuckles. "He's absolutely beside himself."

"It's an odd experience," Edward objects, recovering smoothly from his stoic stance. "I could get used to it."

The two men start to banter and I slip back into my mind. I chase after the elation that infects my mood and play with the memory of my passionate kiss with Edward.

Edward's devotion to me is a permanent affair as is my attachment to him.

He's not leaving.

He's here to stay.