XIV. Can of Worms

Bella

"It was 1633—" Edward began when I interrupted.

"You're not going to start from the beginning?"

Edward rubbed his chin. "I will tell you everything. But for now, 1633 was a more peaceful time for me, a time when I realised a great many things and made the changes I needed. Besides, four thousand years will take too long, I don't want Mr. Teleporter to find us."

I propped myself up on my elbows. "All right. So 1633."

"Yes, 1633," Edward said. "I was in Russia—"

"Were you born there?" I interjected.

"No. I was born in what they now call Greece, in a place called Mykene. Mycenae," he said. "As I was saying—"

"You speak actual ancient Greek? So you can't really say 'it's all Greek to me' and mean it, can you?" I hadn't been able to resist and Edward crossed his arms, smiling with faint amusement. I raised my hands in surrender. "All right, all right, I'll stop interrupting." I mimed locking my lips together and throwing away the key.

"It was the winter of 1633 in Russia," Edward said, and as he spoke, I could imagine the vast snow, the endless terrain of white...

Верхоянск –Verkhoyansk, Russia, 1633

I sat high up on a rock, savouring the silence as I looked at the snow-covered terrain beneath me. Coniferous trees grew intermittently on the taiga, their thin, needle-like leaves swaying when tugged by an icy breeze. But save for their occasional rustling, the land was quiet. Most of the animals were hibernating. The humans settlers were sparse. Here in the wilderness, I was free from the constant barrage of thoughts and sounds. Here, I was at peace.

I hummed to myself, the soft tune of an ancient lullaby. It was one of the few things I remembered of my human mother, a token of home amidst the alienness.

The snow was falling so thickly it began to cover me where I sat. Downy feathers, settling on my face and shoulders. I blinked them off my eyelashes and blew the ones on my nose away, laughing to myself when some of them landed in my mouth. They tasted like dust—most things did. But I was used to it.

Out here, everything was so calm it was lonely. Still, I preferred the solitude to the suffocation—the narrow, dark tunnels; my brother's boundless ambition; the din in the minds of people around me as they fretted and worried.

It was easier to be alone.

My mind drifted to my last family visit.

"Have you finally decided to stay?" my brother had asked.

"I never will."

My brother only gave me that familiar, knowing smile. You always come back.

I offered him no response.

A hundred times, I'd left, and a hundred times I'd returned. Each time, I'd resist, but the loneliness was trying. Love? It had been asked of me in dozens of different languages, by a million different faces. What about love?

My siblings had found their mates within the century, but I had not found mine—not in three thousand years. It was my belief that I was cursed. As long as the voices continued to echo in my mind, whispering secrets meant for nobody's ears, love was impossible. I'd made peace with it.

And so over and over again, I returned to my only family, who welcomed me with open arms. After all, the very thing that made me lonely also made me indispensable.

Eumenes.

My head whipped in the direction of the thought. Only one person called me by that name now, and she shouldn't be running on her own.

Come to London. We need you.

I slid off the rock, landing lightly on the balls of my feet.

"I'll come," I murmured, letting the wind carry my voice. As much as I'd tried to stay away, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving my sister in danger. She was already sprinting back, her thoughts frantic.

"Wait!"

But she was too far away. I frowned, feeling concerned. It was reckless of my brother to send her on these errands. I would have come, regardless of the messenger. Didn't he realise how much danger he put her in?

Our only sister.

The prospect of losing her was frightening. Her existence, and my brother's, were irreplaceable. We'd shared a mother—a family—and now a coven, and a large part of our histories lay in our collective memories. To us immortals, it was a rare and precious thing. So many of our kind drifted among the living, lost without an anchor to remind them of who they once were. It was an easy path to insanity.

My sweet sister. She, too, was prey to my brother's ambitions, her emotions now dead to the blood she spilled, to the destruction she caused. Still, I was the worst of them all. Vampirism had twisted everything I loved into death—dance into combat, empathy into the pillaging of minds. My speed, my gift, my age, they served not to create but destroy. The Reaper. Bloodbath was, after all, the only reason my siblings ever sent for me. But I was that person no longer and I was determined to let them know this once and for all. What were they doing in London?

"So wait," I was too curious to wait until he finished. "Your real name is... is what again? When did you change it? Why?"

"To blend in with the times," he said. "To stay inconspicuous. It doesn't matter, my name has been Edward for the last five hundred years."

I rubbed my neck. "All right. Go on."

"It took me more than a week to reach London. I had to run to Calais and swim across the English channel—"

"You swam? Didn't someone notice?"

"The English channel isn't that wide. People swim across it all the time." He shook his head, giving me a bemused look. "I don't understand, Bella. The mundane details fascinate you, but everything else..."

"The Reaper stuff?" I piped up. "I know. But I figured if you didn't get rid of them, they'd get rid of you. It's a dog eat dog world. Or more like, vampire eat vampire. You were just protecting your family."

Edward sighed. "Family can ruin us." Then he continued the story. "As fast as I could, I ran from Verkhoyansk to Calais. I swam across the English channel and continued the journey from Dover. It took me a week, but I finally reached London that night."

London, England, 1633

My sister's scent was fresh here but I couldn't help diverging from it, fascinated by the changes around me. How the city had grown!

The words from a book I'd read millennia ago rang within my mind, vampiric memory rendering it crisp and crystal-clear – as though I held the parchment in my very hands. Fugit inreparabile tempus. Virgil was right. Despite the limitless existence stretching ahead of me, I never ceased feeling a twinge of regret whenever I realised how much I'd missed.

Theatres, alehouses and taverns now burgeoned along the gravel roads. St. Paul's church had been recently completed. I regarded its classical structure, so similar to those I'd seen in Greece and Rome millennia ago – old ideas being recycled.

London was truly prospering. But it was also overcrowded and rife with disease. As my amazement faded, I became gradually aware of the suffering within the fine homes—afflictions and ailments that slowly killed adults and children alike. Pain and sorrow, and more pain. It distressed me.

Wanting to finish this business quickly, I returned to my sister's trail. It didn't take long before incensed thoughts assaulted my mind, adding to the wailing misery that was already there.

The idiocy of it all!

Who do they think they are?

They're mocking us.

The noise. Oh, the noise. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could make it stop. In this moment, I wanted nothing more than to run back the way I came. But it was in times like these that my family needed me the most. I gave the area a quick scan before letting myself drop into the fetid sewers.

The quiet thud of my landing alerted the others, and silence befell the group as they studied the new arrival.

"Edward," my brother breathed. As poised and confident as he seemed, I could hear the relief in his mind. A few swift movements, and I was at his side.

Who is he?

I thought he left?

The Reaper.

The last name caught my attention. I looked towards the crowd, but in the cacophony of thoughts, I couldn't tell who. Nobody but the surviving ancients saw me that way. It had been two thousand years since I had left survivors.

Nevertheless, seeing was different from remembering. Stories didn't die in the immortal world. A young vampire must have heard from an older one, and it was not important.

I turned my attention to the matter at hand. "You summoned me, brother?"

"Yes. We're facing a little dilemma," he replied glibly.

His words revived the uproar.

"Fine words, from someone who makes us hide in these filthy sewers!" One of the English spat furiously, "As though we're no better than the rats!" Murmurs of discontent followed his words, most of the others agreeing.

Standing slightly apart from the ensemble, my sister's mate gave me a wry smile. Your brother's at it again, he told me silently. Like me, he had little interest in the issue of secrecy. Unlike me, he shared my brother's vision of ruling.

I saw what this was about now. They'd come to impose the law upon the English coven. No—not even that. That was a cover. My brother was searching for more talented vampires.

"My brother stirs up trouble wherever he goes," Edward said, as we were interrupted by the waiter, who came with the bill. The restaurant was closing for their afternoon break and my mind was spinning with what Edward had just told me. Impose the law. Issue of secrecy. Ruling. No matter how I looked at it, it was—

"Where are we going?" I asked him as we turned into a park.

His smile was apologetic. "Nowhere, really. I'm stalling." He stopped, settling himself down on a nearby bench. I made as though to sit beside him but he caught me, turning me around so that I was sitting sideways on his lap, his arms snug around me.

Smatterings of sunlight shone through the canopy of trees, catching his skin and I drew a sharp intake of breath. It wasn't the light dancing off his skin, I'd seen that a dozen times on the Cullens. It was the faded silvery patterns that came with the light, the very same ones I had on my hands and fingers—venom-induced wounds that never truly healed. Except his were so numerous that they seemed a part of his skin, cracks upon cracks upon more cracks.

I touched his cheek, not saying a word as my thumb traced a particularly vicious one running from his forehead, through his eye and all the way to his neck where it disappeared down his shirt.

He remained still, letting me look until I couldn't any more and then he said, "We don't choose our family." He brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "But I choose you. And I will keep my oath to protect you, no matter what. I will stay by your side for as long as you desire it."

The words hadn't come easy. His voice was soft and he was entirely still, gilded eyes fixed on me as though he were expecting me to run. Slowly the words sank in. He'd used so many when he could've used one. Mate. I was surprised to find myself... unsurprised.

Being with him felt right. I suddenly imagined us living in a house, the white picket fence kind, with tiny little dhampir children and even a dog or two. Except the kids might eat the dog. And with my luck, I'd turn all my neighbours into vampire snack. And his family... They were another can of worms. A can of worms I had to open if I wanted him.

And I wanted him.

I knew who his family was. The fighting. His age. His siblings. All of it, he'd been trying to tell me all along. Volturi. But my trust for him ran deep in my bones. It's okay. I traced his cheekbones, admiring how beautifully wrought he was and searching for words. None came, so I kissed him.

His breath caught, his arms coming around me so tightly, I had to tap him on the shoulder. "Can't. Breathe," I gasped against his lips, and he loosened his hold instantly, his eyes so luminous, they were like stars.

"Sorry," he murmured breathlessly, his nose brushing against mine. "I got carried away." He devoured my lips once more, his touch lighting a fire that drove me wild. I deepened the kiss but in a flash, I felt his hands come around my shoulder, pushing me back gently.

"I have fangs," he reminded me.

I shook with laughter and he smiled ruefully, his eyes still burning.

"I have so much to tell you," he said.

"I do too," I confessed. "But you finish your story first. What happened in London, Edward?"