Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight :)
"Of course I'll hurt you. Of course you'll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other.
But this is the very condition of existence.
To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter.
To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence."
- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Manon, Ballerina -
Tempest
The holidays passed more or less uneventfully, which was perfectly fine for me. I'd never liked a big fuss, but knowing Alice, I had prepared myself mentally for something. But when December turned to January and she didn't channel her pent-up energy on New Year celebration on anything, I got slightly worried. It made sense that vampires didn't necessarily celebrate Christmases and New Years the same way humans did, but I found Alice's passivity very uncharacteristic.
One Sunday afternoon, a few days into January, she arrived to pick me up from my apartment to take me to Ithaca again. When I sat down on the passenger seat, it took all I had not to cringe - the radio of the car was blaring at full volume. It confused me a bit since the Cullens had super-sensitive hearing. I watched Alice closely as she threw me a quick, somewhat distracted smile and turned the Mercedes around in my small yard. A small crinkle appeared between her brows as she monitored the rear view mirror and backed out the car. It was almost as if the task was requiring all of her focus. At first I thought she was having a vision, but the look in her eyes wasn't empty and absent like usually when she was searching the future. It was only oddly preoccupied.
I shrugged it off and looked out of the window, watching as the busy streets passed by. I almost made it to the highway before I had to reach out and turn down the volume of the radio. The raucous sounds of rock music quieted down.
Alice gave me a surprised glance, almost as if she had just now noticed how noisy it was in the car.
"Sorry," she said, her delicate fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "I didn't realize how loud the radio was."
I raised my eyebrows at that. "You've got to be deaf not to notice," I remarked. "Is something up?"
Her fingers drummed against the steering wheel again. "Of course not," she answered, and after that began to grumble something about the traffic.
During the hour that it took to get to their house, I made a few attempts to start conversation, but with little success. It was obvious that something was troubling her. Needless to say, it made me concerned.
"Look, if something's happened, you might as well tell me," I said after receiving one more distracted response to my small talk attempts.
Alice sighed. I expected another absent-minded 'everything's fine' answer. Instead, she surprised me.
"I'm frustrated," she admitted, for a short moment looking almost crushed. "That's all."
"Why?" I inquired, confused.
She remained silent for a while, her golden brown eyes glued to the windshield. Suddenly she signaled right and turned onto a secluded side road. She stopped the car, leaving the engine running.
"I've let you down, Bella," she burst out, making me feel even more puzzled than I already was.
"What do you mean?" I asked, giving an unsure laugh. "What is going on, Alice?"
"We're not certain. No news there." She sighed again, rubbing her temples as if she were in physical pain.
I waited silently for her to resume. Quiet drumming filled the silence as her fingers tapped against the steering wheel again. "Remember when I told you about the nomad Edward and Jasper tracked down in Seattle before Christmas?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "You said they didn't manage to get much out of him."
"And they didn't. He refused to speak. But before he bolted, Edward managed to read his mind. Or get a short glimpse of it, more likely."
Raising my brow, I turned my upper body towards her as if to hear her better. A heavy feeling of foreboding crept over me.
"As you know, Edward's been adamant about finding out if Victoria has something to do with the vision I keep having of you," she began to explain. "He and Jasper questioned the nomad about her, trying to find out if he's come across her during his travels. The nomad got instantly very defensive as they described Victoria's appeareance to him. Jasper told me that he got extremely nervous, even frightened."
"Why?" I asked. "Is it possible that Victoria is a threat to him?"
Alice bit her lip. "I don't think that's the case now. Not the way you mean, anyway." She glanced outside of the car window, cutting the engine. Another sigh escaped her lips. "When Jasper was giving the nomad Victoria's description, Edward monitored his thoughts, hoping they would reveal something to him. He said that as soon as Jasper had mentioned Victoria, memories began to arise in the nomad's mind. Memories of a fight that involved a large group of vampires."
An odd sensation of chill swept over me. "A fight?"
Alice nodded. "We are not entirely sure what happened. Jasper has strong suspicions, but we can't confirm them. However, he believes that the group of vampires Edward saw in that nomad's memories was a vampire army. And the nomad was possibly part of that army."
"Why were they fighting?" I asked, not knowing what to ask first. My mind was teeming with questions. "And what's with the army? I was under the impression that huge covens are unusual among vampires."
"They are. Most vampires live alone or in pairs. However, it wouldn't be the first time in our history when someone creates an army for their own use."
A shiver danced up my spine. "Creates?"
Alice nodded. "Jasper knows a lot about these things - you should ask him if you have more accurate questions in mind. In any case, he believes that the vampires were possibly newborns, created on purpose. As you know, it's not against our laws to create a new vampire, just as long as the creator keeps the newborn in control. In this case that wasn't accomplished. A large number of vampires, let alone a group of newborns, are bound to alert attention. That's why Jasper believes that the fight Edward saw in that nomad's mind wasn't just any scuffle - it was an execution."
I licked my lips; they felt cold. "An execution? What do you mean by that?"
Alice's eyes swept the scenery outside the car window. Trees covered with snow bordered the graveled road ahead of us, and I idly thought that the view was like from a postcard. I had a feeling Alice barely saw it. When she turned to look at me again, an inkling had already stirred in the back of my mind.
"The Volturi," she stated, confirming my hunch. "Somehow the nomad had managed to escape them, but not before he'd witnessed the destruction of the army he was part of. It's very likely that the newborns had caused a lot of havoc among humans and attracted attention with their behaviour. The Volturi were forced to interfere." She paused, holding my gaze. "At first Jasper thought that the nomad was afraid of Victoria since he got nervous when she was mentioned. But it seems that the memory of the Volturi and their actions was the reason for his fear. He probably never even knew who they were, let alone why they killed the army he was part of. He's probably still afraid he'll face the same fate."
I drew in a slow breath, slightly befuddled. "I'm still a little lost," I confessed, trying to absorb everything I had heard during the last minutes. "How does Victoria fit in? Did she create that army? And why?"
"Victoria might have been behind the idea. But I don't believe she was the one who created the newborns."
"How do you know?"
"Because I would have seen it if she had decided to do something so drastic, and she knew it," Alice mused. "I kept tabs on her after we left Forks. After all, we knew she would seek to revenge James' death one day. Since I never saw her make the decision to raise that army, I believe she must have had someone to help her so she could operate in the shadows. Someone who made all the major decisions for her to keep me in the dark. To ensure that we would be caught off guard." She paused, her eyes fixed upon the snowy scenery ahead of us. "And as for why... I think we both know what her goal possibly was."
An involuntary chill went through me, making me shudder. Alice gave me a glance, starting the engine again. Warm air began to fill the space, but the cold clung to my skin like a blanket.
Mutely Alice began to look for a spot where to turn around, and within moments we were back on the main road.
"But did Victoria ever even learn about your ability to see the future?" I asked, sifting through my hazy memories. "How would she know not to make major decisions and therefore try to prevent you from seeing what her intentions were?"
"James knew about my ability to see the future," she pointed out. "He must have told Victoria about me before we destroyed him in Phoenix."
"Oh." I had almost forgotten about that. Almost. A large part of me hoped that the memory of James in that ballet studio would someday fade completely, but his voice, cold and amused, was almost branded in my brain. It filled my mind now, uninvited. She didn't even seem to notice the pain, poor little creature. She'd been stuck in that black hole of a cell for so long. A hundred years earlier and she would have been burned at the stake for her visions. In the nineteen-twenties it was the asylum and the shock treatments...
I shook my head to rid myself of the memory and turned to look at Alice. "So Victoria went through all that trouble to have an army of vampires at her disposal," I murmured after a while. "But why would she? Why an army?"
Alice turned to look at me, the expression on her face portraying uncertainty; she wasn't sure what I was trying to say.
"You're clearly implying that her plan was to revenge James' death by killing me," I explained. "But she wouldn't have needed an army to accomplish that. She could have done just fine on her own."
"Maybe it's like what you said a few weeks back," Alice pondered. "Maybe she didn't know we left Forks. Maybe she thought that she'd have to eliminate us before she could get to you. And besides, I'm sure the idea of taking us out in the process was more than appealing to her. Two birds with one stone."
"I suppose," I agreed quietly. A question was burning my lips. I had to wonder why Alice hadn't answered it alrealy; I knew she had to know what kind of a question I was harboring. "So?" I pressed when she stayed silent. "Where is she now? Victoria?"
Her fingers tapped against the steering wheel again. "According to the recollections of that nomad, she was killed along with the army."
A wave of relief swept over me. Victoria was dead. I found it more than hard to believe. Giving a deep sigh, I idly thought that it was one name I could cross off my list of things to worry about.
Alice didn't look too relieved. She slowed down the speed, turning the car onto the winding dirt road that led to their house. For a short moment, I lost myself in the sight of trees sleeping under the snow, but a small sigh next to me made me look away from the view.
"Ever since I had that vision of you last fall, I've kept searching for Victoria. Now we know why I never managed to see her future. It's likely that the Volturi destroyed her and the army several years ago, probably soon after we had left Forks."
Behind the trees, I caught a glimpse of their beautiful, old house. I observed Alice as she parked the car, and something about her expression made me remember the words she had spoken earlier. The words that had started this conversation.
"Alice," I said when she tugged at the handbrake and cut the engine. "Earlier you said to me that you've let me down. What would make you say something like that?"
She gave me a look that was an embodiment of a thousand apologies. "What if the Volturi hadn't intervened, Bella?" she asked. "What if Victoria had managed to implement her plan and attack you - with dozens of newborns? You would've been all alone and defenseless because we left you unprotected."
I stayed silent for a minute, not knowing what to say. Finding out that years ago I'd possibly been a hair's breadth away from dying and not even aware of it... A revelation like that pretty much left one speechless.
"You couldn't have known what she was planning," I offered. The words sounded lame, but at least they were sincere.
"But we did. We killed her mate, Bella. We weren't going to assume that she'd let a thing like that go by. I don't think you understand how durable the bond between two mates can be. Vampires are vengeful by nature. That particular trait is built-in in us. Her measure of retaliation was more a probability than a possibility. And we made a horrible mistake by having too much trust in my ability to see her intentions beforehand. It didn't occur to me that she might find a way to evade my visions." She fell silent, holding my gaze relentlessly. "I'm sorry, Bella. It was my overconfidence that put your life at risk."
"It doesn't matter anymore," I insisted, my voice quiet but firm. "The Volturi put an end to whatever she had in mind. She's gone. You have no reason to be sorry because there's nothing to be sorry about. I'm safe."
"At the moment," she granted, her tone nothing but warning. "Of course I'm relieved to know that Victoria isn't behind the vision I keep having of you. But it only means that someone else is." She held my gaze for a while more, as if to make sure I understood how serious the situation still was. Then she exited the car, and before I had the chance to turn my head, she was already holding the passenger door open for me.
"It's not like things are that different," I noted as I got out. "I mean... It's not like the situation's gotten somehow worse. At least we now know for certain that Victoria's out of the picture. I'd call that progress."
A shadow appreared in Alice's eyes. She looked like someone who was about to bear bad news, a fleeting look of anxiety passing on her face. Something seemed to hold her back, though, and I knew she probably didn't want to worry me more than necessary. While I appreciated her thoughtfulness, honesty was something I valued more. I didn't want anyone to tiptoe around me.
"How come you didn't tell me about this sooner, anyway?" I queried as we walked across the yard towards the veranda. "If you've known about this since before Christmas..."
She shook her head, shrugging. "Because I kind of hoped I'd have something more concrete to tell you by now. Something useful that would bring us closer to solution." She stopped in front of the brick stairs leading to the veranda, turning to look at me. Her next words, as ominous as they were, didn't frighten me. If anything, I was left even more confused.
"And like you said... The situation hasn't gotten any worse," she stated. "In fact, it's been this bad all along."
A frown formed between my brow. "What do you mean, this bad?"
She appeared to be on the verge of answering, but then turned to look at the front door. It opened with a quiet creak, revealing Carlisle behind it.
"Bella," he greeted. His smile was genuinely warm, but there was some sort of tension in his eyes as he cast a quick look at Alice. My gaze flicked between the two. There was no question whether or not they were having a wordless conversation with each other – I saw it from their faces.
However, it was a short conversation, even for a wordless one. Alice began to usher me in, and Carlisle stepped aside to hold the door open for us. I exchanged a swift look with him as I climbed the stairs to the porch. He was still smiling, as if seeing me again pleased him greatly. But the look in his eyes was somehow torn. Almost like he couldn't choose between delight and worry as he looked at me.
The expression was gone as quickly as it had appeared, though. When Alice and I had gotten inside, he closed the door behind us. As Alice dragged me through the foyer, momentarily seeming to be her old bubbly self again, I kept thinking about the fleeting flicker in Carlisle's eyes. For some reason, something about it haunted me. I idly thought that the last time I'd visited the old house, I'd felt enchanted by it. But now I felt like I was walking into someone's funeral - the atmosphere of the house was almost grim.
I wasn't enchanted now. I was worried.
The first ten or so minutes passed by quickly as Alice led me through the first floor and explained what she had done to the house since my last visit. At least half of her words went in one ear and came out the other as I tried to get rid of the strange feeling of apprehension that kept creeping over me. Something was nagging at me; a thought left to be revealed. There was something about Alice's earlier nervousness that didn't add up, not to mention the swift look in Carlisle's eyes a moment ago. Surely it was understandable that the information about Victoria's attempt to raise a vampire army was keeping them on their toes. But since she was dead, there shouldn't have been any reason for them to worry about it anymore.
"The situation hasn't gotten any worse," Alice had said outside. "In fact, it's been this bad all along."
I had missed something important. The frustrating thing was that I had a feeling I already knew about it, but the knowledge was just beyond my reach and I was unable to grasp it.
Trying to ignore the feeling and convince myself that I was being paranoid, I focused on Alice as she gave me a little too detailed description of the renovation of the living room floor. She seemed to be her old self again - seem being the key word. I couldn't help but notice the look of unease that passed on her face every now and then. And I knew I wasn't the only one feeling edgy.
I observed her carefully as I said something complimentary about the living room floor she had renovated.
"The original floor was gorgeous, but a little too worn for my taste," she explained with a small smile. "I swear it looked like someone had been skating on it."
I gave a soft laugh. "Well, at least it gave you a good reason to renew it."
"True," she admitted. "But it took me two days to decide what kind of wood I should use - oak, maple, hickory? So many options."
"Just two days?" I grinned teasingly. "I'd have thought you'd consider at least two weeks before making an important decision like that."
She crossed her arms stubbornly. "It is an important decision. You can always paint the walls or get rid of ugly furniture. But the floor... Your'e going to walk on it and stand on it the entire time you're in the house. It's important what it looks like."
"You could have covered the old one with a carpet," I kept teasing her. "Would've saved you a lot of work."
She nudged me with her elbow, bridling. "You're worse than Jasper."
Laughing, I reached out and gave her a one-armed hug. "Sorry. I was just kidding. It looks great - the entire house does. You should make a career out of this."
She relented, giving me a smile. "Esme and I were planning on it once, but we haven't gotten around to it yet. Maybe someday."
"Well, you have all the time in the world," I grinned.
Alice's smile fell. I looked at her questioningly, wondering about the change in her. But then the look on her face disappeared, as though a switch had been flicked. I turned to give a confused glance at Carlisle who I expected to stand somewhere behind me. But that's when I noticed that he was gone. It was odd; he'd followed us to the living room, and just a while ago he'd been standing near the door. I'd never get used to how silently the Cullens could move when they wanted to.
Clearing my throat, I looked back at Alice and waited until I had her attention. She was opening the curtains of the large windows on the long wall of the room, letting the late afternoon light in.
"So," I began when she turned to me again. "You didn't invite me here just to show off the new floor. Not that it's not worth looking at," I jested, trying to keep my tone light.
She didn't shy away from my eyes this time - it was something I had almost expected. "What makes you say that?" she asked, but her tone was conceding; she didn't even try to deny my words.
"A hunch," I replied and gave her a wry smile. I was unconsciously standing straighter, lifting my chin - doing all those silly things you did when you wanted to give a strong impression of yourself. I was also holding my breath, preparing to hear the bad news. I didn't even begin to guess what those possible news could be. That was the nasty thing about hunches - they could only tell you so much. They didn't reveal the entire story to you.
Alice was biting her lip. I'd never seen her do that. "Carlisle wants to talk to you about something," she said. "He's upstairs. You know the way."
I gave her a nod, my mouth forming a smile I didn't feel. My feet worked on their own accord as I turned around and made my way out of the living room. The hallway leading to the staircase was familiar to me from my last visit, but I suddenly felt like I'd been dropped into a maze. My feet remembered the way, but my mind didn't; I was merely a passenger as I continued forward.
Hesitating at the bottom of the stairs, I looked around me and realized how quiet it was in the house. I kept listening for the familiar sound of traffic that was usually heard in my small apartment, but it was almost eerily silent in here. As I climbed the stairs to the third floor, only the sound of my quiet breaths and soft footsteps echoed from the walls. The silence that seemed almost unnatural made me remember how isolated the house really was, far outside of the main roads. I knew the Cullens liked it that way, but for me it would take some getting used to. While I liked being alone sometimes, I also enjoyed company. It felt strange to know that the usual commotion and bustle of people wasn't within walking distance like usually. When Adrian and I had parted ways after our stormy relationship and when he had moved out, I remembered how lonely I'd sometimes felt. And all I'd needed to do then was to open my front door and hear the noisy bedlam of the streets. And instantly, I'd felt better.
But there were no noisy streets now, no explosion of voices to keep the restlessness within me at bay.
Lost in my thoughts, I ran my hand along the smooth, curved banister and climbed the last few stairs. I stopped for a moment, admiring the rich red tones of the walls. It was really difficult to tell what was original in the house and what was added later - Alice had done a marvelous job with everything.
Just like on my last visit, the doors along the hallway were open except for the one. The door of Carlisle's study at the farthest end of the hall was closed. As I neared the room with calm steps, I noticed that something was different. A familiar-looking wooden cross was hanging on the wall above the door, its dark color complimenting the rich tone of the wall behind it. It hadn't been there on my last visit. I remembered my curiosity when I'd first seen it in the Cullens' house in Forks all those years ago. You can laugh, Edward had said when I'd spotted it.
I hadn't laughed. But now I smiled, like the aged cross was a friend long lost. I was far from a religious person, but for some reason it felt nice to see something familiar right now. And the cross reminded me of Forks; it reminded me of home.
The door ahead of me gave a quiet whine as it opened, shaking me from my thoughts. Carlisle appeared, giving me a small nod as a greeting.
"I'm just bathing in nostalgia," I explained and nodded toward the cross.
He smiled softly. "I see," he answered, stepping aside to let me enter. "Come in."
As I walked into his study, the feeling of worry that had welled inside me for the past moments lost its sharpest edge. My trail of thought was another thing I lost. The hundreds of books filling the shelves were calling me in, but I resisted their invitation. Determinedly turning my attention away from them, I looked at Carlisle. To my surprise, I caught him hiding a smile.
"What?" I asked, a little defensively.
"Nothing," he answered, quirking his brow innocently. "It's only that most who enter this room tend to turn away quickly, apparently deeming it uninteresting. You're a welcome exception."
I gave a laugh. "You're clearly spending your time with wrong people, then," I returned his jest and smiled. It made me want to kick myself - I didn't want him to think I was flirting with him. Because I wasn't. Right?
"Perhaps," he agreed with a smile and closed the door. Then he stopped and tilted his head slightly, as if to hear something better.
I received an explanation to his behaviour when he turned to me again after a second or two. "Alice informed that she's leaving for a quick hunt with Jasper." A small smile curved his lips again. "I'd rather not repeat what she said about our mutual passion for reading."
"Her opinion is pretty predictable," I replied. The feeling of unease returned, sharper. I had to wonder what Carlisle wanted to talk about if Alice and Jasper felt the need to give us privacy. Our playful conversation began to feel like empty small talk. Like meaningless words to avoid the impending, unpleasant conversation. The one we should be having.
Suddenly I felt like I couldn't keep still, and I began to wander around the shelves, idly aligning the books that weren't fully straight. It was a simple, familiar function, something I did at the bookstore all the time. It usually calmed my nerves, but not this time.
When Carlisle inquired about my weekend, and I latched onto the topic, grateful for the distraction. I told him that my mom had called yesterday; it had been her usual check-up call to make sure I was still alive and well. If she didn't hear from me often enough, she got worried and thought I had run out of money and died of hunger or something.
"I feel like it should be me calling her to make sure she's doing okay," I said to him, half-serious. "Not that I could reach her very easily - I can't even count how many times she's called me from a payphone because she keeps losing her cell. I should have Phil bolt it up on the wall or somewhere else where she can see it."
Carlisle gave a good-hearted laugh. "She sounds like a handful."
"That she is." I walked over to yet another bookcase, scanning out the titles without actually focusing on what I was reading. Any other day, any other time, I would have enjoyed our idle chit-chat, but now I was simply too worried, feeling like a bundle of nerves about to snap.
I slipped out from between the shelves and wandered closer to the wooden desk situated in one corner of the room. Carlisle was half sitting on the edge with his arms crossed. I was trying to summon words to ask what was going on when he caught me off guard, meeting my gaze and holding it with a strange intensity.
"Do you miss her very much?" he asked, smiling softly. "Your mother?"
I leaned my shoulder against the end of one shelf, wavering. I felt ambushed by the question, as simple as it was.
The answer was simple as well. "Yeah," I replied. "I do."
Carlisle nodded, the expression on his face suddenly regretful. "I'm sorry that the situation has kept you from seeing her, and your father as well. I'm sure you looked forward to see them on holidays."
"It's fine," I assured. "It's been years since I've spent Christmas with them, anyway. Renée and Phil like to travel during that time and Charlie is starting his life with Sue. They won't miss me," I assured, giving a small laugh.
Carlisle shook his head. "I don't believe that for a second," he disagreed.
"Don't worry about it," I insisted. "It's better this way. If someone is after me, I want to be nowhere near my parents. Just in case."
"I understand that." Avoiding my eyes, his arms tightened across his chest as if he were deeply troubled. He probably didn't want to be the one adding his distress, but nonetheless I took a deep breath and began to talk. We couldn't tiptoe around the subject forever, could we?
"Speaking of the situation," I said. "On our way here, Alice told me what Jasper and Edward found out in Seattle."
Carlisle nodded. "I'm aware," he murmured. I waited for him to continue, but to my surprise, he stayed silent. His pensiveness confused me.
"I was a little surprised to hear what Victoria had planned," I said, making a new attempt to start the conversation and hoping that whatever seemed to weigh his mind would be revealed to me eventually.
His shoulders rose and fell as he gave a deep and soundless sigh. "It surprised me as well," he confessed. "Although, perhaps it shouldn't have."
I studied him carefully as he spoke, recognizing the shadow of worry in his eyes; he'd looked just like that when he'd opened the front door for Alice and me when we'd arrived. I watched him uncross his arms, then cross them again, as if staying still was a feat he was incapable of right now. He seemed to be feeling as restless as Alice had been in the car on our way to Ithaca. Needless to say, it baffled me. A fidgety vampire, let alone two of them, was a notion I hadn't been prepared for. And not knowing the reason behind that unease... it was unsettling to say at least.
Maybe Victoria's intention to raise a vampire army and then attack me with it just horrified them that much. It horrified me - I didn't even bother to pretend that hearing about it hadn't affected me at all. I wasn't that fearless. I had some sense of self-preservation even though it always didn't seem that way.
But something told me that it wasn't plain concern for something that had happened years ago that made them now behave the way they did. Suspicion raised its head again, an inkling telling me that I was still missing something important. Or ignoring something, more likely. It had something to do with what Alice had told me in the car on our way here. I replayed our conversation over and over in my head, but to no availl.
"The situation hasn't gotten any worse," she had said outside before Carlisle had appeared. "In fact, it's been this bad all along."
What had she been trying to say?
Clearing my throat, I sauntered closer to the desk where Carlisle was still sitting with his arms crossed. Recalling his last sentence, I searched for words to give him a response.
"I don't think anyone could have expected Victoria to go that far," I offered. "I mean, even Alice didn't see it coming."
He nodded. "It is worrisome that she found a way to get around Alice's visions. And by the time she would have seen what Victoria was up to, it would have been too late."
"Maybe. But I guess fortune was on our side. Victoria failed because the Volturi stopped her."
Carlisle nodded, his face growing more grim.
"What is wrong?" I asked finally, deciding that direct approach would probably give me answers. "Why is everyone acting so weird?"
He flickered a glance at me, brushing a hand through his hair. Fixing his eyes upon something behind me, he straightened himself and stood up in one fluid movement. His steps were measured and calm as he neared me, rubbing his chin in a very human-like manner. Staying silent, he kept staring over my shoulder off into the distance. I misread his actions, thinking he was avoiding my eyes and not wanting to answer my question.
"Look," I said, some of the tension creeping into my voice. "There's obviously something going on. It's really not that hard to notice. Alice was acting all weird on our way here - I've never seen her like that. And don't tell me it's because of what you found about Victoria. I know she's not the one you're worried about, because by all accounts, she's dead. I'd really appreciate if you just told me what's going on instead of keeping me in the dark."
He listened to my outburst without a word. When I was finished, he met my gaze for the shortest of moments before dropping his eyes to the floor. He came closer, walking slowly past me and giving me no choice but to turn around in order to see him. He met my glance, tilting his head toward the wall opposite of his desk.
"It is not my intent to hide anything from you," he said quietly. "I promise I will tell you everything you wish to know. Come."
I frowned at his words, but followed him without a protest as he led me past the towering shelves to the only wall that wasn't covered with books.
Paintings hung from the mahogany paneled walls. My eyes scanned the beautiful sceneries captured on the canvases. They were already familiar to me from my last visit. But there was one painting, also recognizable to me, that I hadn't payed attention to the last time I'd been here. Maybe I'd been too occupied to notice it. Whatever the reason was, it had been rather illogical of me to ignore it since the painting was the largest one in the room, and somehow the most striking of them all.
Carlisle came to a halt in front of it. I stopped beside him, my eyes beginning to study the swirling colors of the painting. The four calm figures at the top of it provided a nice counterbalance to the chaos unraveling below them. For one fleeting moment, I was in Forks again, standing beside Edward and staring at the mayhem of colors and shapes for the very first time.
"Solimena was greatly inspired by Carlisle's friends. He often painted them as gods." The words once spoken aloud were tailed away into whispers by the long years, the softness of his voice only a blurred remnant of my memories. "Aro. Marcus. Caius. Nighttime patrons of the arts."
It was easy to understand why the artist had felt compelled to perpetuate this uncommonly beautiful and mysterious group of men on a canvas. I studied the three, unfamiliar men standing on the high balcony and watching the surging chaotic mass of people with an unnatural calm. My gaze gravitated toward the fourth man in the painting; the only one who I truly recognized and knew and the only one who didn't have that disturbing indifference in his eyes.
The same man stood beside me now, the look on his face mirroring the expression he had in the painting. Benevolent, honest eyes. Calm and collected, but not cold.
He turned to look at me then, as if to ask me if I remembered the painting; if I remembered the day when I'd first set my foot in their house in Forks. It was like asking me if I remembered my own name. Because of course I remembered. Some things were impossible to forget.
"Why did you want to show me this?" I inquired quietly.
Carlisle was regarding the painting with a thoughtful expression. "How much did Alice tell you on your way here?"
I began to enumerate the things I remembered off the top of my head. "She told me that the nomad Jasper and Edward encountered in Seattle once knew Victoria. Edward read his mind and found out that the Volturi destroyed the newborn army he once was part of." I paused, replaying the conversation in my head. "Alice believes that someone else besides Victoria created those vampires, thus explaining why she couldn't see her intentions beforehand." I fell silent, wondering if he wanted me to remember something in particular.
Carlisle crossed his arms, beginning to explain. "If the nomad had been more cooperative, Edward would have gotten a more clear picture of what exactly happened. However, it is certain he saw some of the members of the Volturi in the nomad's memories."
I quirked my brow, still not sure where he was going with the conversation.
Rubbing his chin, Carlisle casted another look at his old acquaintances. "While we are more than relieved to know that Victoria is no longer a concern, the Volturi's interference possibly caused another problem for us."
"What kind of a problem?"
He pondered for a short while, searching for words. "The Volturi operate in a certain way," he began to explain. "When a crime has been committed, such as if someone creates an immortal child, draws attention by hunting incautiously or creates a newborn and doesn't watch over their creation, the Volturi will find out about it before long. Depending on the seriousness of the crime, they usually send a small group of vampires from their guard to take care of the problem. The three leaders of the Volturi," he paused, nodding toward the three inhumanly beautiful creatures in the painting, "rarely feel the need to leave Italy to carry out the punishments, or even attend as observers. Sometimes they do, but they usually rely on their key members, each with a unique talent, to take care of the violators."
"Like a flying squad," I murmured, more to myself than him. I was curious about what he had meant by an immortal child, but I bit back the questions, wanting to hear the rest of what he had to say.
"It's not often that the Volturi have to make a decision to execute an entire army of vampires," he continued. "It has happened before, but not for a very long time. Now I fear that the unusual situation made them curious. That's why it's possible that the leaders were present during the execution in the hopes of getting a better picture about the situation."
"And that's bad?" I guessed.
Carlisle frowned. "Possibly," he answered. "Our problem is that we can't confirm if the leaders were present or not. Edward only got a short glimpse of the nomad's recollections. It didn't make it easier that the nomad was quick to suppress any memories of the execution - most likely he did it out of fear. And then he fled." He paused, turning to look at me. "Edward has never met any of the Volturi in person, but he was able to describe the appearance of four vampires to Jasper, and later to me over the phone. We confirmed them as the members of the Volturi guard. The leaders weren't among those four, but it doesn't mean they weren't present."
"I still don't understand what's wrong," I admitted, wondering if I was just too simple-minded to understand what the problem was. "How is it significant if the leaders of the Volturi attended the execution or not?"
A disturbing feeling of foreboding had followed me ever since I'd sat in the car next to Alice this afternoon, and that feeling was now stronger than ever as Carlisle looked at me. Then he nodded towards the painting, and I diverted my attention to it again.
"The Volturi have exceptional means to interrogate the violators of their laws. There's a member who can inflict an illusion of pain on her target, and another who can steal away all your senses - your sight, hearing, touch. As you can imagine, those can be very effective interrogation methods. Pain alone can make anyone submissive."
I nodded, trying to ignore the chills creeping up my skin. I hadn't known that vampires' supernatural abilities could have sadistic features. Suddenly I felt very young, very naive, like I'd been introduced to their world a minute ago. I'd thought I knew a lot about them, but it turned out I knew very little.
Carlisle's eyes were studying one of the vampires in the painting. The eyes of bright-red stared back at him. Long locks of black hair framed the vampire's face, landing on his shoulders like a hood. Which one was he? I wondered. Marcus, Aro, Caius?
"Do you remember when I told you about Aro?" Carlisle asked, answering my soundless question.
I tried to recall our conversation from months back, returning to the night when Carlisle had told me about the Volturi. "A bit," I answered. "He's the one who can read minds, right?"
He nodded. "An illusion of pain, for instance, seems like nothing next to his gift. He doesn't need to torture the subject in order to extract information. His ability to read minds is more advanced than Edward's, but also more limited. Edward can read thoughts as they pass through someone's mind and he can do so from a certain distance. Aro needs to touch the person to read their thoughts. But his skill is much more thorough; only by the touch of his hand, he learns every thought, every feeling, every memory the person possesses, and has possessed in their entire life."
I nodded. "I remember."
Carlisle looked my way, forgetting the painting. He drew in a deep breath as he turned to face me, brushing a hand through his hair. There was something nervous about the action, about the way he was standing. About the way he reached out with his hand to touch my shoulder. He did it as if to soothe me; as if to support me. And as I wondered why I would need soothing or supporting, I began to feel uneasy all over again. Because he obviously still knew something I didn't. Because my mind was obviously still one step behind.
That's why he wanted to offer me his comfort. Because I was about to catch on.
"Bella," he began, his voice measured and calm. "If Aro was present during the execution, it is more than likely that before destroying Victoria, he read her mind in order to discover the purpose behind the creation of her army. In that case, he obtained every thought, every feeling, every experience - ,"
"Every memory she possessed," I finished for him. My voice was oddly calm despite the sudden dismay I felt. If I hadn't been feeling so wrong-footed, so startled, I might have been annoyed with myself for not realizing the situation on my own. Victoria had raised the army for one purpose only - to kill me. And now the Volturi knew about it. About me.
They had known all along.
"The situation hasn't gotten any worse." Alice's words were now louder, clearer, than before. "In fact, it's been this bad all along."
I tried to tear my eyes from the wall panels where they had wandered, pretending that I was waiting for the news to sink in. In truth, they already had sunk in, but I found it difficult to meet Carlisle's eyes. The touch of his hand on my shoulder felt light, the coolness of his fingers seeping through my shirt.
"They know about me. The Volturi." The voice was mine, the words were mine, but I felt oddly disconnected from myself as I spoke. Weeks ago, Carlisle had told me about the possibility that the Volturi might be behind all this, but back then, it had been just that; a possibility among others. To have it confirmed now... I shook my head as if to clear it.
Finally, I raised my gaze to meet his. My voice still didn't match my feelings; it was too calm. Too detached. "It explains the vision Alice keeps having of me. It's them - they've known about me all these years."
Carlisle's face portrayed every feeling that was simmering within me. Every feeling I couldn't give a voice to. "It is a possibility we have to be prepared to face."
I gave a hoarse, incredulous laugh. "How? If they know that I'm aware of you and the nature of your existence... You once told me that according to your laws, if a human becomes aware of you, that human has to be killed."
"That is obviously not an option," Carlisle said calmly, drawing his hand away from my shoulder. "To set your mind at ease, I must tell you that if the Volturi haven't felt the need to take action by now, it is very possible it takes years before they decide to do anything. They don't see time as you do. For someone who's been alive for thousands of years, a couple of decades means nothing. For a human, it's seems like a very long time, but it's only a blink from a vampire's perspective."
I sighed and lifted my hands to rub my eyes. "But Alice said that Victoria and her army was destroyed years ago, probably soon after you had left Forks. It means the Volturi already have had several years to mull over things. What if they suddenly decide to set a date? As long as I'm alive and aware of the existence of vampires, I'm a threat. They won't forget. And you once said yourself that they aren't exactly forgiving."
"Alice is monitoring the situation even as we speak," he assured softly. "If and when they decide to take action, we will be aware of it in an instant."
"And then what?" I asked, beginning to feel chagrined. "You'll protect me at the expense of your own lives? Again?"
Carlisle held my gaze for a long while. "You know we would do it gladly." The tone of his voice was the exact opposite of mine. Soft, assuring. Everything and nothing I needed to hear.
"And I should just stand by and let you do that for me?" I asked acidly. "Knowing how it ends? It would be all for nothing! If even half of what you've told me about the Volturi is true, you won't stand a chance against them. You'd only be delaying the inevitable. You'd die for nothing." I paused to take a shaky breath, trying to calm down. "It's not right that you should sacrifice yourselves that way. My life is not worth all of that. All of yours."
The look in his eyes darkened, as if I'd said something insulting. "Your life is worth as much as anyone's," he said. There was no softness in his voice anymore; only urgent intensity.
"But it's not right that you should throw away yours to preserve mine!" I vaguely realized I was on the brink of shouting, but I didn't care. "It's unreasonable. And if you think I'll let you do it, you're a lot dumber than you look." Holding his gaze, I searched for a calmer tone. It took a huge amount of focus. "Even with the risk of sounding melodramatic... I'd rather die myself than watch you sacrifice yourselves for me."
Carlisle stood perfectly still for a while. Then dropped his eyes to the floor, crossing his arms and turning away from me. He took a few measured steps toward the middle of the room before stopping again. It looked like he was debating with himself about something, his posture tense and guarded.
Uncrossing his arms, he turned to face me again. His eyes were determined, and they were apologetic, and regretful, and millions of other things I couldn't even begin to decipher.
"It doesn't have to be that way," he said quietly. His speech was slow and calm, as though he wanted to make sure I would catch all the words. "You know it, and I know it. There is an option. You are free to consider it if you wish."
My anger boiled away. I suddenly couldn't hear anything over the pulse in my ears as the blood rushed around my body. It seemed to be in a hurry. To where? I couldn't tell.
It took another split second for me to fully comprehend what he was trying to say. And then I felt like my heart dropped from my chest to the bottom of my stomach. My pulse kept fluttering in my ears, but I couldn't tell if it was slow or fast, calm or turbulent. Images were rushing through my head; memories, moments, quick flashes of my life. Charlie, Renée, Phil, Adrian. I thought about all those things that had molded me into the person I was. All those moments that had come and gone a long time ago. And then I thought about the things that were yet to come; things I hadn't gotten to experience yet. Everyone had dreams, hopes and goals, and I was no different. Just like anyone else, I craved those things. I craved those possibilities, wanted to claim them as mine.
And just like anyone else, like millions before me and millions after, I realized I had made the most foolish mistake of all. I hadn't appreciated those things until I was a hair's breadth away from losing them all. The dreams, the hopes, the goals. Everything.
Another image formed in my mind; an image of myself surrounded by constant darkness. Bloodless veins, crimson eyes, skin cold as snow. Lifeless heart, forever frozen and heedless of the time passing by. The seconds, the minutes, the hours, the centuries ticking away, moving like they are supposed to. All the while I stood still, eternally captured in my own little bubble of endlessness.
There were no dreams in that place; no hopes or goals. No Charlie, no Renée, no Phil. Just my most ardent wish coming true eight years too late.
I tore my gaze away from the floor; I didn't even realize I'd begun to stare at it with unseeing eyes. I looked more through him than at him as I turned to Carlisle, drawing enough air into my lungs to get out a few simple words.
"I want to go home." I couldn't say anything else; I had no words. Even that short sentence made feel spent.
Carlisle stayed silent. From my peripheral vision I saw him nod, and somewhere deep within me I was able to feel grateful because he didn't make me say anything else. Because he gave me space and the chance to breath and just be. I was reminded of his presence only when the soft sound of his footsteps echoed from the walls as he accompanied me downstairs. And when I was about to step into the cold January evening without my coat, he wordlessly retrieved it from the foyer where I'd left it earlier and lowered it on my shoulders.
It was the longest hour of my life. I tried to savor it, tried to appreciate every minute that ticked by and turned into the past. And I fretted because I felt like I was wasting those precious minutes, throwing them away like yesterday's trash. Because as much as I tried, I couldn't appreciate the time that flowed by me.
It was limitless. Time, that is. It couldn't be measured, and it couldn't be regulated or put aside to be taken out again whenever you felt like it. It couldn't be given a physical form or a definition, but still I felt like my share of that immeasurable time, that particular portion given to me, was running out way too soon. Like someone out there had set a timer, saying that this is all you get and that's it. See you on the other side. Or not. It's your decision. Choose between an undending life and death.
Some choices.
I stole a glance at the man beside me. Carlisle's eyes were focused on the road ahead, but I knew he was aware of my gaze. He didn't turn his head to meet my eyes, though. Maybe he thought I'd interpret it as a question; have you decided or not? Do you yet know if you want to die or not?
I shook my head at myself, knowing it was my inner turmoil talking. I tried to probe my feelings, telling myself that I had seen this coming all along. That this subject would have come up sooner or later. From the moment I had seen Carlisle in the park on that late afternoon months ago, deep down I had known that at some point I'd have to face this question again.
Why was I so upset, then?
Because you believed the situation would be different. Because you didn't expect to be sentenced to death so suddenly.
I looked at the familiar streets outside the car window, watching the flow of people passing by. Very few of them were smiling; maybe they had problems of their own. Maybe some of them had to make a difficult decision, too.
Die or live. The decision should have been easy, right?
But it wasn't.
Closing my eyes, I took deep breath, fighting to calm the turmoil inside. But it was impossible. Faces were filling my mind, faces of those who I'd lose no matter what I decided. And it wouldn't be just me losing; I'd be lost to them as well.
The masochist in me began to picture it; Renée standing next to Phil, holding the phone to her ear as she received the news of the strange disappearance of her only daughter; Charlie working through the nights, trying to find out what had happened to me and driving himself crazy by fearing that I had been violently murdered by some lunatic; Adrian stopping by at my empty, abandoned bookstore in a couple of years, passing through Buffalo on his way to India or something.
Would they spend the rest of their lives living in grief and uncertainty? Never finding out what had happened to me?
I didn't know if I could do that to them. I couldn't imagine knowingly causing them all that pain.
But I had to. In one way or another.
I idly thought that if the Volturi happened to get me sooner than expected, maybe there'd be a body to be left behind. Something to give them closure.
Tears were burning against my closed eyelids. I kept my eyes tightly shut, refusing to let them fall. Because those tears were selfish; they weren't for them. They weren't for Charlie, or for Renée, or Sue or Phil or Adrian or the agony they'd have to go through. Those tears were for me, for my misery. For my fragile mortality. For every year I'd wanted to live, and for every year I was now going to lose. For every moment I couldn't share with my parents, for every new memory I could no longer create with them. I suddenly regretted for not visiting them more often. For not spending time with them when I'd had the chance.
In that moment, I missed them more than ever before.
As I felt the motions of the car becoming slower and then stopping altogether, the churning chaos within me grew. The engine was cut, and then it was very quiet. I was vaguely aware that I should say something; the silence seemed to demand it. But my fingers were already fumbling for the door handle, and I was out before I even had the chance to comprehend it myself.
I walked across the white yard to the front door, remembering how untroubled I'd been just a couple of hours ago when I'd stepped outside and walked to the car where Alice had waited. It had snowed since then; a fresh layer of white had covered the ground, hiding my earlier footprints. It was almost like I'd never been here. It somehow seemed very fitting. One person had left, and a few hours later, a very different one returned.
That's how I felt; different. Off balance. Off course.
The cold air made the tears feel hotter. I payed no attention to them, just like I ignored the heavy, sorrowful gaze at my back.
To be honest, disregarding the tears was easier.
My night was sleepless. The hours dragged by as the storm within me kept raging, eventually tiring itself out. Drowning in its own waves.
Hours later, when the moon had circled the sky and was peeking through the window of my bedroom, I got up. With aching eyes, I navigated my way through the dark, sleeping house, stopping at the window of the living room.
The front yard bathed in the silver light of the moon. My eyes swept the white scenery, eventually landing on the line of my own footprints leading across the yard. Beside them, there was another set of footprints pursuing mine. They ended in the middle of the yard, turned back and returned to the spot where a certain car had been standing just a few hours ago.
Now it was gone. The black, sleek car had disappeared, just like the owner of those footprints.
AN: Uh-oh. Drama in the offing.
The following sentences are quotes from Stephenie Meyer's book Twilight:
"You can laugh."
"Solimena was greatly inspired by Carlisle's friends. He often painted them as gods. Aro. Marcus. Caius. Nighttime patrons of the arts."
"She didn't even seem to notice the pain, poor little creature. She'd been stuck in that black hole of a cell for so long. A hundred years earlier and she would have been burned at the stake for her visions. In the nineteen-twenties it was the asylum and the shock treatments."
The conversation between Bella and Carlisle about Bella's mother and her tendency to lose her cell phone is a reference to the movie Twilight. In one scene, Renée is calling Bella from a payphone after losing the power cord of her cell. It's a nice moment between them, and also describes how scatterbrained Renée sometimes is.
The passage of the story has been very smooth so far, so it's nice to see something dramatic happen for a change. I'm sure many of you agree. This is obviously a very important turning point for Bella. I wonder what's going through her head after this?
Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!