"Nostalgia is like grammar lessons; you find the present tense, but the past perfect!"

January 15th 1912

The cold seeped into my bones. White dust fell around us as the car tore through the city. I felt tempted to thrust out my hand on other to catch them, feel them land on my palm and never melt. Instead I turned my face from the scene, watching the inside of the coupé before letting my eyes land upon my own frame.

With a bump in the road, the coat slipped apart, revealing the front of my dress. Black embroidered sequences on lace above one cover of satin and a final layer of silk. I picked at the crystal-like stones, touching them delicately. The train wasn't long but enough to make a lasting impression. The sleeves reached just above my elbows – completely in lace and beads.

In my right hand is a dark wood and lace hand fan. It's a requirement in society. Being not only an accessory, women who loose enough oxygen would faint. A scandal, you know. Anything less that perfection wasn't tolerated. I never much cared for upholding my social status but having just arrived, I decided to make a name for myself. I knew it wouldn't last. Two years. Possibly three if I remain enough of a mystery.

A sigh escaped my lips. How tedious.

The car made a turn, letting one of the street lamps flash inside the compartment. A golden arrow glimmered across the roof before disappearing behind me. It wasn't every day I got to dress up nice. Perhaps that is the reason I treasure – if that's the right word – these few moments of complete humanity. The golden glimmer was the result of too much window-shopping. A golden arc of two bows caught my eye. Typical Edwardian design. Heads of an unfamiliar flower garnished the metallic top, along with worn engravings in shapes of leaves.

A hand reached up to the top of my head, as if self-conscious. The band was still there, secured by two pins attached by thin chains at the end of the gold.

The hand slowly moved down, feeling its way over my fragile hairstyle – two braids pinned together to create a bun, while a few tendrils found their way to escape the messy-looking do – before gently dragging the tips of my fingers over a dropping yellow gemstone earring set in a golden frame. I tug at my other ear to find its twin pinned and secured.

The only other item is an amber colored crystal bracelet with five large stones and over a dozen small ones, decorating my left hand. This one sits – as well – in gold. I feel the warmest tonight – on the coldest night of the entire year, so far – than I think I've ever felt before. But how would I know, really?

The vehicle starts to slow. I peek from the window. There's a queue forming. I look behind. There is but one other car and then there's only the night. I smirk at this. I'd be sure to make an entrance being one of the last. The show didn't start for another hour and a half. Quite the scandal showing up this late. Mingle is one of – is not the – most important part of the entire night. Never forget to mention whatever charity brought you here this evening.

Another quarter of an hour and I'm the next in line to descend. Jumping out onto the cobblestoned drive, the driver wobbled around the back and stand before my door. The lanky man with a too large mustache brings the handle down and opens the door to me. More chilly air enters the compartment. I set my face – that of one of high society.

The man offers me a hand and I take it without a word, stepping carefully down on the slippery stones. I take a second to observe the world before me. The night is silent. There is no wind. I bring the cloak closer around me, making sure I wouldn't forget any human mannerisms tonight. Fidgeting wasn't my strong point.

Below where the first sets of columns begin are several lanterns, making the façade illuminate in a ghostly appearance. The golden statues in each side of the top of the building remain in partial darkness but still find a way of letting every person know they're there.

The dome is just visible at the top of the opera house. The protection seeming so delicate. I wonder how many hours it took to finish this architectural beauty. This is the first time I lay eyes on Palais Garnier. Build thirty-seven years ago to the date. People from all over the world come here just to witness the masterpiece.

I take attentive steps, barely listening as the door to the coupé closes and the man hurries back to his post to let the other, and last, car through. I walk forward, listening to the click of my heels on the steps as I come to the grand entrance. I stop once inside and a young man comes up to me, helping me off with my coat. I let the fabric slide down my arms. I don't miss the boy giving me a look from top to bottom. I let the praise go straight to my head with a secret smirk.

The hall is filled. People stand in groups of five or more. The nearest pause as I take cautious steps, watching the stone and artwork. I hear them whisper. Gossiping. They've heard of my arrival to town but no one had yet to spot me. I deem to ignore them all until I've seen the staircase. I've heard too much and experienced much too little.

The marble clicks beneath me as I come to the middle, standing below the enormous skylight. I let my gaze linger from the glass to the ceiling paintings. It's magnificent. Of course. Nothing short of perfection, I would presume.

But now my head comes down. I find the hall still buzzing but not of the ballet. As I look about me, they all turn their heads, redirecting their questions and answers at their partners. What's my name? How old am I? Where did I come from? Have I money? What of my parents? Surely I couldn't be over the age of sixteen and on my own. But did I come from money?

It is almost too much and I find it hard not to laugh at them. I turn out my fan, letting a cool breeze sweep over me and at the same time shield my smiling lips from the rest of the world.

I leave the open view and start for the next level. They cast envious and longing glances at me. None of which I return in any fashion. But their questions did light a spark in me. As I was preparing myself to stay here for a while, what was I going to answer them? Surely I couldn't keep one lie coming after another. I would need a good story. Something believable but still an unreachable fantasy.

I wonder how I look to them. In a technical sense, I was one of them. I dressed the same; I wore my hair in a similar fashion. But I must appear completely alien to them as well. My skin was pearly white – a desire amongst socialites but rarely acquired to the full extent of how I looked. I was careful of my eyes. In a better way of disguising myself, I'd made sure to feed one week before at the latest, letting the irises darken to an acceptable color.

My secretive smirk fell from my lips. Maybe it was a mistake coming here. Not to the opera house but Paris. Thinking I could stay in one place for a longer period of time. Maybe it was foolish. But why shouldn't I get to have a life? Or the illusion of one? Obviously nothing like last time.

Stop!

Tonight I wasn't going to mull over this any longer. I wasn't even going to acknowledge I'm a vampire. I just wanted to watch the ballet!

"Ce qui est troublant d'un tel être belle cette belle nuit?" (What is troubling such a beautiful being this lovely night?) An aging man with a monocle and a dangerously high top hat smile warmly, and a little creepily, at me. A fizzing amount of champagne in a crystal flute came up as the man took a small but generous gulp. I leaned in close, as if sharing a secret.

"Avoir des gens me regarder me rend nerveux." (Having people watch me makes me nervous.) He laughed and leaned in himself, putting a light hand on my arm. If he noticed my temperature, he never said a thing.

"Leur écorce est pire que leur morsure. Croyez-moi." (Their bark is worse than their bite. Trust me.) I chuckle lightly, nodding.

"Je fais." (I do.) I assured and watched him hobble away to his party. I shut out their voices, ascending the marble stairs to the second level. People were coming and going in rapid paces. I had emerged with the crow. I believe my goal had been reached. And yet I felt no contentment.

I worked my way to the upper level and push myself against the throngs to get to my very own balcony spot. Or at least I thought it was my own. As I entered, two humans were already seated in the small compartment. I draw up short, thinking I have the number wrong. But I do not.

Taking my seat, I'm overly aware of how small the compartment actually is. I'd made no awareness of it before but now I see I should have made sure only I had the rights to this particular balcony.

The thick red velvet curtains sheltered us enough from the rest of the gathering that I was sure no one would notice just how uncomfortable I was. My hands fists and I don't dare to breathe. I remind myself to fidget every once in a while but with my lack of oxygen, I had no desire to uphold my charade.

As the first act ends and a small recess is in need before act two, I slip out quickly, finding an empty room to collect myself. I have a hard time filling my lunges' with enough oxygen. The corset cuts off any and all floods. I want to rip it off but I stop myself, taking small and shallow breaths before feeling as if back to normal. My minutes are up. I should head back. But my feet won't carry me across the hall. Instead, I stay in there until I hear the curtains rise one more time.

I get out into the hall when I'm stuck face to face with the city's biggest gossip. Lauren Mallory. A socialite from the hills of Colorado, she married an English banker who finds an excuse to go on business trips far away. Apparently it's a requirement for a banker. She's let loose on the streets of Paris this time. I've never had the misfortune to run into her before.

"Isabella, is it?" I nod. She speaks not a word of French and considering she's supposed to stay here for months, I could find much pleasure in how she'd go about translating her every wish. "Why are you not inside watching the show? It is quite magnificent, is it not?"

"Of course," I assure in a deep French accent, wanting any excuse to get away from here. "I only sought a bit of fresh air. It's much too crowded in there for me. I'm afraid I don't quite have the patience for shows anymore." She snorted delicately.

"Why I cannot fathom how you could ever have such a ridiculous thought. Why it's as if you haven't been properly trained." I resist rolling my eyes. "Honestly, how dare you even-" suddenly she stops. I gauge her expression for a moment before realizing what had caught her eye. Steps come towards me from behind.

They're light; the sound vanished into the plush carpet. Breath coming and going in a calculating rhythm. It's a man. Sounds of fabric from his suit ruffled together, indicating is wasn't one of the works but someone with far more expensive taste.

But none of that mattered. For as soon as I became aware of the presence behind me, the breath I'd saved washed out in a humanly inaudible gasp. I knew what was behind me. Someone like me. Another vampire. Decades have gone by without so much as a peep from any supernatural being and this is the time for a meeting?

I swallowed back the venom that pooled in my mouth. But my body betrayed me as my limbs tensed; ready for action. But there was a human present. There was a charade to be upheld. He must know of the consequences if he were to engage in some form of activity the human wouldn't understand.

Doesn't matter now. He's right behind me. I wait for him to pass but he stops behind me, standing slightly to my left. Catching me by surprise, he puts a hand on the right side of my waist and pulls me closer until we're flushed together. I compose my face as to not look so shocked, hoping Lauren doesn't see through me.

"There you are," he man says softly. "I've been looking all over for you." His thumb gently draws circles on my hip bone.

"I just needed some air," I reply, my voice equally soft. I don't dare sneak a glance but continue to gauge Lauren's expression. Her eyes go from both our faces, seeming unsure and confused.

"How are you this evening Lauren?" the man asks, sounding nothing but pleasant.

"I'm very well. Thank you Edward." Edward... Nice name. Young. "I wasn't aware you and Isabella were…" she let the sentence end there, wanting either or both of us to finish it. I stayed quiet. After all, this was his doing.

"Isabella and I are old school friends. We just happened to run into each other the other day."

"I see. Well it was wonderful meeting you Edward. We must lunch one day."

"Of course," he replied with a light chuckle. We watched Lauren saunter down the hall, disappearing behind a door towards the end. Before I had time to move a muscle, cold lips were at my ear, whispering fast.

"Don't try to run. She's still listening." His hand tightened on my waist. "Come with me." I let him lead me away, always keeping me in front of him. We scurry down the massive marble staircase, going to the floor level before he shoves me under the stony steps – where we're completely shield from passersby above us.

I finally get a good look at him. He's extremely handsome. Bright brown hair with shades of copper and gold. Face rightly angled with thin lips. His hands looked strong with long fingers. He was lean but still muscular. A foot taller than me. His face still held a small touch of innocence you'd find in a teenager. He wasn't much older than I, if even that. I remembered his voice now. So clear with a bit of husk in the back. And, of course, his eyes were the same as mine. Red irises staring back at me.

He seemed to be concentrating deeply on something. I wasn't quite sure what. My eyes narrowed in thought. "What is this?" My question seemed to bring him out of his stupor.

"What is what?"

"You… here…at this particular night."

"I've been in the city for weeks. If anything you're the intruder who needs to explain yourself."

"So this is a coincident?" I didn't know too much about my kind. I knew, of course, that there were others. Silly to think otherwise. But I wasn't expecting to run into one. Literally. In a place like this, no less.

"I would suppose so." We turned silent. I cocked my head to the side, finding myself relaxing. Which was odd considering I don't relax in front of strangers. Though I suppose we're not strangers. But then again, we are, aren't we? We have nothing in common than our race. Does every dog greet one another with the same confusion and apprehension?

I found it uncomfortable when his stare turned forceful. His eyes narrowed and how eyebrows pulled together in confusion. I leaned my frame back, trying to understand this weird behavior.

"Sorry," the- Edward said.

"Then stop staring at me. It's making me uncomfortable."

"This is so strange. I can usually hear anyone," he was speaking low, not really to me but not just to himself.

"Good for you," I shot out, feeling more than a bit silly. Above us, thousands of hands clapped together, signaling the end of the show. Had we really been speaking for so long? I remembered the tightness in my chest on the balcony. So many people… I shouldn't have come here so unprepared. I know my control but I shouldn't take such high risks.

While I no doubt wanted to stay and possibly find out more about this Edward character, his eyes were far brighter than mine. He'd recently fed. Perhaps this night even.

My gaze linger on the ceiling as I work myself around him, grapping the lace around my knees and hold it up so I wouldn't tear it.

"You shouldn't risk it," Edward says while easily keeping up with me. The coat check guy comes out with my coat but I ignore him, walking right onto the empty square-like platform which frames the buildings front.

My gaze lingers on the same spot before working its way up the façade. Two giant beams of light shot into the air, waving mechanically. They've gone all out tonight. Good. More humans, the lesser chance of a scene.

More and more people were arriving, their faces obscured by the heavy masks. I waited across the street, watching everyone closely. The roads had been shut down. Half of Paris is watching tonight.

The sun has just set. I can finally move from my immobile state. While it is most comfortable, it's not suitable to stay frozen for longer. Soon enough dust will gather on our skin and we'll start to look translucent.

I slid my coat up and over my shoulders, buttoning it tightly. The wind had stopped, snow fell like dust. I walked across the street, hands in pockets and my phone starts to buzz. Without blinking, I put the piece to my ear, letting whoever it is on the line speak first.

"I didn't think you'd pick up."

"I didn't think you'd call."

"Seems we've reached an impasse."

"Seems we have… What can I do for you Edward?"

"I need you to rethink what you're doing." I kept going, not letting anything get to me tonight.

"Why's that?"

"You're making a mistake." My heels echoed on the street. The whisks of hair not secured in my braided hairdo tickled my neck and the top of my shoulders.

"Even if you did know this to one hundred percent, why would I give a shit?"

"Because you know its mistake too?" I breathed a chuckle, coming to the entrance. Letting the boy behind me slip off my coat, the airy fabric of my dress flowed into a puddle around my feet. I'd kept it simple tonight. Light grey gown – almost a faint violet – with the bust in a metallic shade of silver.

Antique black cubic zirconia studs in each ear, a white gold and crystal ring, pieces of white painted glass in the shapes of feathers attached to the five carat clear white diamond. And a mask. Darker shade of my dress with feminine glittery patterns.

Maybe it doesn't sound so simple when put like that but it was basic when compared to my fellow masquerade lovers.

"I do not know such a thing," I said in my accent of the evening; British.

"You're not French tonight?" I chuckled and brought the phone closer, as if I was sharing a secret.

"People are more likely to speak of me if I'm not one of them. The French are nice but very judgmental. Old habits are hard to break, I suppose." They started noticing me now. I kept an easy-going smile on my face, looking nothing but innocent.

"And what if you meet him. Then what?" I hesitated. Truth be told, I had no idea what I would say. I was hoping he'd let me dismember him.

"I can't talk now." I hung up and put the phone into my antique metallic and silk clutch.

I moved slowly down the hallway, every heartbeat registered. Every scent. No doubt each and every human smelled delicious tonight. But I was well fed and nothing would hinder me in finding the man who condemned me to an eternity of purgatory and constant misery.

No matter how much I love being that I am – invincible, immortal, beautiful, unquestionably intelligent – if I'd known from the beginning what I realized after that decade, I would have traded it all for a life of human normality and unimportance.

The stairway was lit with over two-hundred candles. From the chandeliers above us to the four-foot candelabras at every corner. The room was humid, hot. They threw back champagne like it was water.

It wasn't hard to start up a conversation. The curious always flock to the new. Like moth to a flame.

"I must say your arrival has been the highlight of the week." I laugh while smiling charmingly.

"I don't believe that for a second. There must have been others much higher on the social chart than little me."

"I can assure you," the business man continued in his heavy French accent. "People are buzzing about one thing tonight. That is you, my dear." I smiled again, gazing away as if shy of his advances. He wasn't too bad to look at. Unfortunately. However, he was twenty years my senior, very French and very married.

But his words did disturb me. Why hadn't he made himself known? Why hide? That was not his mo. He thrived in the spotlight. Couldn't have been in the city longer than an hour without making himself known in some big dramatic scene.

"I'm looking for someone," I started. "And old friend."

"What's this friend's name? I know just about anyone who's worth knowing."

"Thomas Bradford."

"He is English too, yes?" I nodded.

"I am truly sorry. I do not know a Thomas Bradford." I gave him a weak smile my my mind was reeling.

"He might have gone under a different name. He lies to reinvent himself," I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. It worked.

"I do not know any known either as Thomas or Bradford. They are not too common in France."

"He's one-hundred and eighty-five centimeters, dirty blonde hair." The business man searched his mind, narrowing his eyes. "Ever see interview with the vampire?" A nod. "He has a Brad Pitt feel to him." His eyes lightened.

"Yes… why yes I know that man. But he is not here now. His last stay ended almost two years ago. I only remember because he – and please don't take this the wrong way – but he has this way. He made quite many of us uncomfortable. He went under a very different name thought."

"Different name?"

"Yes. James, I believe. I'm sorry; I don't remember his last name."

"That's quite enough, thank you." I walked away, leaving the business man in awe. The heels of my overly expensive shoes click loudly – to me – on the marble as I ascend the steps. I don't break my walk until I turn two corners and have the entire sea of people at my feet.

My gaze is pending, scanning each and every human, collecting their faces to memory. I partially hide behind a pillar, sometimes turning my head to watch the people behind me. They stand in groups, laughing, drinking. They don't notice me so I am free to observe in a semi creepy way.

And… he's… not… here.

Not a familiar face. Scent. Not even a fucking rumor.

Something's wrong. This was much too easy. Had he been here, I wouldn't have made it to the second floor. I wouldn't even have gotten into the city. He knows me, thought and through. How I think. He made me. He knows it all.

He's not here.

Something feels wrong with me. I'm as energetic and focused as always but something's… off. Alien.

There's a knot in my stomach. My throat feels thick. I swallow but there's nothing in the way. Is someone playing with me? No. I wouldn't have sensed it by now if another vampire was inside the building. Then why do I feel this way? Hollow. Lost. Even scared.

My eyes clench shut and I try to keep the voices of everyone around me at bay but it's fruitless. Their words piece my eardrums. I hear nothing but them and their heartbeats.

So many.

So close.

I want them.

I want them all.

Screaming and dying. They wouldn't take long to find. I could snap their necks. It would be quick. Painless.

My contact covered eyes blew over the masses. It would be a mistake to take them all. To even try was a huge offence. I'd be exposed. Someone would scream. The people outside would hear. They would storm inside, see the dead and see me. I can't hide my true nature in that state.

I would be executed.

Standing there, with every year I have behind me…

Shaking my head, I look up, away from their pathetic exchanges. I needed to get out of here. The dress flows behind me dramatically. It took a lot of restraint not to run out of there. I practically ripped the coat out of the boys hand as I neared the exit. He yelled something at me but I ignored him. Getting out my phone I threw the clutch into the nearest trashcan.

There were a lot of people outside. Too many. Halting on the street, I go down a one-way street, letting the cool air hit my lunges, washing away the last traces of human.

It's not until I get back to my room that let out a breath of air I'd been holding for ten minutes.

Without complete awareness of my actions, I picked up a silver candlestick and threw it against the thing closest breakable; a mirror over the fireplace. It shattered against the floor like confetti.

I felt the sobs try to break out of my chest. I knew my face had fallen. And I let the sadness hit me.

He hadn't showed up. He probably never had any plans to return. He told Riley to tell me the lie. He just needed me to know he'd always own me. Always have the upper hand.

"Bella?" I heard the words but they never registered. Instead I ripped the mask off, feeling my hair come loose from its delicate nest. The paper dropped to the floor, echoing through the room.

"He never came," I whispered, feeling even more desperation. Rubbing my forehead, I felt the rage and sadness bubble to the surface, escaping, letting him see my true pathetic self. I didn't even care how he knew where I was. I didn't waste time thinking why he'd even come.

"Fuck!" I slapped the closest thing, another silver candlestick. It soared across the room and implanted itself in the wall. A frown appeared on my face, deepening as I came to terms of the night's events.

My chest heaved; now from rage. How dare he not show up? How dare he let me be a fool? How dare- a hand lay down on my exposed shoulder. I stiffened, just now acknowledging him.

"You shouldn't be here," I say, my voice low but angry. "Aren't you going to say it?" My lips trembled. I wanted to yell, throw something else. Break things. Kill people.

"Say what?" He'd removed his hand, knowing it would make it worse.

"I told you so?"

"Not my style." I sink down into a nearby chair, my face frozen in-between a mix of astonishment and despair. "Wha-"

"Shh. I need to think," I whispered. What was I supposed to do now? There was only two ways this evening could have ended; either him or me dead. And I'm now forced into a third I never saw coming.

"It wouldn't be wise to go on a hunting spree. He obviously never planned on coming."

"Or he was warned," I muttered. Warned was a bit of an exaggeration.

It's not what you've read. Being a vampire. We don't bleed so a mix of blood to reproduce is not possible. We don't burn in the sun. We don't wear jewellery so we don't burn in the sun. We don't eat or drink human food. While it's physically possibly, it's only idea when trying to blend in. And we don't sleep. Ever.

But that's the basics. No one cares about that anymore. That's the easiest to overcome. What's a burden for some but a gift to others is our power. Sometimes mental. Others physical.

And age. Age has a special power. Not necessarily does age prove as a tool when fighting against someone. Ones diet is always a factor; how often they feed and on what. But when you've been around for a few centuries, your mind works differently. We can't grow muscles but sometimes I wonder. I am a much better fighter now than a hundred years ago and I don't have a schedule system. So maybe we are stronger with age.

But age is more powerful because of knowledge. The older you are, the more they fear you because the more you know the more you're a potential threat or ally.

I've never claimed to be a friend of anyone but I have not built a resistant to not show myself in a certain light. A reputation, if you would. Most know of me for being impulsive, not showing remorse or even guilt. A bitch, basically.

You can't make people like you, but you can make them fear you.

AN: I have nothing important to share. PM or review if there's anything that's unclear. Are the flashbacks annoying? Tell me now so I don't include many more or any at all. Maybe some extras that are just flashbacks?