A/N I know I kept all my wonderful readers in suspense, and I figured I owed you guys some explanations. Here is an extra-long chapter; I love you all and hope you enjoy it! Oh and by the way, Garrett will be in the rest of the story; I fell in love with him a little bit while reading ''Breaking Dawn'' ;)

The flame first appeared as simply a very clear, small light that seemed to slowly grow in size. There was nothing else, at first, just this light. But as it grew, I saw that it was actually illuminating what looked like a window. Through this window, I could revisit all of the moments of my life that mattered, as if they were somehow preserved intact in a place where time stood absolutely still. And I got to pick and choose the ones I loved the most, and I could gaze inside of them, wrapping myself in a safe blanket of all of those warm, wonderful feelings. Riding bikes with Jacob, Alice trying to coax me into nicer clothes, the lines on Charlie's forehead whenever he frowned at me. Carlisle's kind eyes, Esme's arms holding me. Even falling in love with Edward, that was preserved too, as if in a snow globe. Frozen. All of these, I noticed, contained a shimmer, almost like potential energy; a coiled spring. I don't know how long I was there, peering into my own memories.

Then I was pulled violently away from the window, as the pain began.

In my mind, I screamed and screamed, though my mouth made no sound. A slow boil seemed to have begun, heat was rising and building. Then I felt as though something inside of me was breaking apart while being slowly burned. My window was shattering, and all of my beautiful, fragile, preserved memories seemed to explode as if hit by a nuclear blast, sending out a wild burst of feeling, light, and scattered images with the force of a supernova. I tried to catch them, to hold onto them, but I couldn't move my hands. Now, this wave of burning light had almost reached what was left of me, it was at my heels. There was nothing I could do; I was frozen, as if tied to a stake, watching the flames crawl closer. And while I clung to a few last shreds of consciousness, I found the strength to collect certain memories, bury them deep inside of whatever part of my mind remained, so that they would not be taken from me. I hid them, kept them safe. Even if I was obliterated by this encroaching fiery blast, my memories of Jasper were coming with me. And they would be the last thing I would see, my last hiding place.

When I was sure that I had them all, I let myself be hit by the burning flames of light.

While this happened, though I was not aware of it at the time, a kind of chain reaction had been set off. As the blast consumed me, a shockwave of energy seemed to reverberate across space and time. Back in Forks, in the dim light of another overcast early morning, behind the locked door of my bedroom, the swirling fog of stored memories that I had unconsciously created had begun to take on solid form, coaxed into being by the energy released by my death and rebirth. It continued to come together, as though rising out of a primordial sea, until it grew strong and began to rattle at the door, trying to break loose.

I don't think that you could call it waking up, but the process by which I rejoined the world was a slow one. There was a faint glimmer in the back of my mind, pushing me up out of what seemed like layers and layers of heavy lead. Inside this small sheen of light were the memories that I had saved, and they projected outward, reaching for me.

An echo, a familiar voice, broke through. Jasper. I remembered him, and I wanted to be nearer to that voice, nearer to wherever he was. This sense of urgency prompted me. Up and up I climbed. I remembered music. And sky and stars and rain and sun and ground that ran on and on. Something he'd said, something I didn't recognize; a poem that made no sense. How had it gone? I was climbing higher now, and I felt strength returning to my body, felt myself as having solid mass once again, as though I was being re-formed. ''Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you.'' I could think a little more clearly now, pieces of awareness were returning.

''My blood approves, and kisses are a better fate than wisdom.'' Hadn't that been part of it? I could hear his voice saying those words in a memory.

Now, I hear that wonderful voice again, and it was calling a name, and somehow I knew that name was mine, and responded instinctively. I opened my eyes.

I was lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. Everything had become remarkably clear; colors were unnaturally bright, and there were new scents in the air all around, ones that I had never noticed before. And I was not alone; Jasper was sitting beside me as though waiting for something. I knew his face; it was the one I had struggled so fiercely to hold in my mind as I was split apart by a blast of heat and light.

Relief flooded his features, and he broke into a smile. ''Bella,'' was all he said.

''Jasper!'' I said, and immediately noticed that my voice sounded different. It was stronger and clearer, as crystalline as everything else. And then I remembered what this was, why it was this way. A pair of blood red eyes peering out from beneath a hood. The sound of a gun. The sensation of drowning. The bite of fangs, my last human memory. I had been changed. I had made it; it was over.

''I'm changed,'' I whispered to Jasper. ''You did it…I knew that you could.''

He leaned forward and threw his arms around me, kissing me. Warm happiness flooded my being and I kissed him back, realizing that every single tactile sensation was now a thousand times stronger. The world was more alive, even though technically I was not.

''Of course I did,'' he whispered, as we gripped each other so tightly that it hurt. ''Couldn't let you get away, now could I?'' Jasper grinned, and kissed me again.

I could hear footsteps from the other side of the house moving closer, until a beautiful face framed by long, silky blonde hair appeared in the doorway. Interrupting our embrace, Kate shrieked with delight when she saw me, and rushed into the room. ''Oh, you're perfect,'' she gushed. ''I knew that you would be just fine! Even as a human, you were already stronger than most.''

Excitedly, she grabbed one of my hands, ''Come on, let's go out and see the others! They've been so—'' Jasper interrupted Kate, saying, ''Don't you think you should give her a few minutes to—''

Kate dismissively waved him off with a delicate motion of her hand. ''Nonsense, she's in peak condition. Naptime is over, Bella needs to come out and play now.''

I nodded. I now had so much energy coursing through my body, I felt like I could swim the English Channel. It didn't make any sense to still be lying in bed like an invalid, though I could definitely have used some more time alone with Jasper. ''I feel great,'' I told him reassuringly. ''And…well…I want to see more. Everything looks clearer and brighter than before.''

Jasper gave in, then. ''All right, but remember that you're stronger than you might think. Don't bump into anything, you might knock the house down.'' A bright smile illuminated his amber eyes, making them seem to glow. His emotions were much more defined now; they didn't come at me in waves, they extended out from his body in rays of colored light, like an aura. I could view them without being taken under by their power. As Jasper gazed at me, his eyes promised that we would be having fun later.

I climbed out of the bed, realizing that I didn't have to yawn or stretch the way I had before. There was no tightness or fatigue anywhere in my body. I felt taller, if that was possible, and I noticed that my shoulders didn't hunch forward as they did when I was human. Someone had dressed me in my favorite pair of jeans and a comfortable, thin cotton sweater. As I stood up and took in more of my surroundings, I noticed something. A dark stain had been formed on the otherwise spotless polished wooden floor. Though someone had apparently tried to clean it, it was still there. Blood. And then, almost reflexively, I put a hand on my chest, remembering that a bullet had torn through there. It certainly didn't look like one had. I pulled the fabric of the shirt away from my skin to examine the site of my fatal wound, and there was nothing but smooth, pale, unblemished skin.

Stepping carefully past the place where I had died, Jasper, Kate and I left the room.

As we walked together down the hall, I found myself recalling the sounds of a huge commotion: breaking glass, things being knocked over. This had been right before I'd been shot. No visible signs of the struggle seemed to remain, except for faint scratches along some of the woodwork.

When we entered the living room, there was an audible gasp from Garrett, who was seated in one of the large, velvet armchairs. His perpetually animated expression turned from one of shock to one of excitement. ''You—you look wonderful, Bella! How do you feel?'' He was positively bursting with energy, it radiated out from him in bright shades of yellow.

I felt absolutely perfect. ''Strong,'' I told him. ''Clear. I have Spidey-senses.''

For example, at that moment I could hear Alistair shut the liquor cabinet in the study two rooms over, could hear the brandy sloshing around in the bottle as he approached. Sure enough, a few moments later he appeared, bottle in hand. His gold eyes widened when he noticed that I was standing in the middle of the room, and he muttered ''Bugger me,'' then opened the bottle and took a huge sip. Then he steadied himself, wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve and said ''Well, I suppose it was all worth it, after all. She's bloody spectacular.'' He sank down onto a chair and clutched the bottle to his chest. ''You gave us a rough couple of days, Miss Isabella,'' he said. ''If I could still age, my hair would be mostly gray now. At least the hard part is behind us…I hope.''

He took another swig of brandy and Garrett rolled his eyes with disdain. ''Maybe now he'll stop trying to drink himself stupid. He's been on a bender for the better part of two days. We keep trying to tell him that it's all in his head, but that doesn't seem to mean much.''

''Listen, you sodding little Colonial…'' Alistair began sourly, but I interrupted them. ''Did you find out who shot me?'' I asked. Garrett shifted a little in his chair, the light around him flickering and darkening ever so slightly, as if there were some sort of static interference. ''Well,'' he began, at the same moment that Kate said, ''you know, we can talk about this later, Bella, you must be thirsty.''

I was. This was probably a good idea. I would need strength to face whatever came next, on the next part of this journey, the second act of my life after a brief intermission, announced by the sound of a gun firing. And now the woods surrounding the house that I could glimpse through the window seemed to beckon. It was time to go hunting.

Hunting, actually, had been quicker than I expected, and as natural to me as any typical ritual of eating that I had known in my old life, though I hadn't counted on the ease with which I could kill and feed from the various animals that I caught with my bare hands. Jasper hadn't needed to teach me much, somehow I simply picked up on the cues of nature and of my own new vampire body, allowing my senses to lead me toward the best source of nourishment, then subdue and kill my prey. I didn't necessarily understand why everyone had warned me so strongly about the perils of being a newborn, the supposed feral violence, the insatiable thirst. I didn't feel like I was out of control, in fact, I was almost less impulsive than I had been as a human. Once I felt full, I stopped, announcing to Jasper that we should go back to the house. Once satisfied, my hunger had temporarily waned, and I felt a more pressing desire to know the details of my murder, and an understanding of what was to happen next.

''She's so controlled,'' I could hear Kate exclaiming as Jasper and I arrived back at the house. ''It's easy to see now why she was the one. I mean, if this is what she's like at only a few hours old, imagine the abilities that might reveal themselves in time.''

''Yes, love, but that was only the first part,'' Garrett interjected. ''Just because they failed to kill her before she could be turned doesn't mean that they'll suddenly stop trying. It will be harder now, of course, but not impossible. Just because she's an immortal does not automatically mean that she will fulfill the prophecy. And I'm sure that whoever they are, they have a contingency plan.''

''Maybe you should be explaining all of this to Miss Isabella,'' Alistair interrupted crankily, ''Since she's the one that is going to be most affected by it. And especially since she can already hear every word that you're saying.''

I smiled as I took that as our cue to enter the room where they all sat, locked into this heavy discussion. Garrett grinned sheepishly, acknowledging our presence. ''Hey there. How did you like your first meal?''

''It was delicious,'' I admitted, then sat down on the couch, out of habit. I wasn't tired and didn't feel the physical need to sit and rest; it was just a natural reflex. Jasper joined me, affectionately slipping his arm across my shoulders. I glanced around at the faces of our friends; everyone looked very expectant. ''The whole process was easier than I thought it would be,'' I added, shrugging. ''It all felt…pretty ordinary, actually. Like…well, like making a pot of spaghetti or something.''

Alistair began to laugh, then, a sound that I hadn't heard from him before, and rather hoped that I wouldn't hear again. There was a new bottle traveling with him everywhere now; apparently he'd gone through all the brandy and was now working his way through a very old, very expensive-looking bottle of Scotch. ''Like making spaghetti,'' he repeated, then dissolved into hysterics again. ''You know, it's really rather amusing because…because….'' He couldn't even finish his this thought, he was laughing so hard. At least he wasn't twitching and stammering.

''Honestly, man, get a hold of yourself!'' Garrett ordered him sternly, clearly disgusted. Then, to me, he said ''Alistair just means that you show a remarkable level of self-control. I can't say that any of us are actually surprised by it, though it's fascinating to witness, I'll admit. You seem to have retained a good deal of your human attributes and mannerisms. But, it was said that you would be completely unique among our kind, and you are.''

''Speaking of which,'' Jasper's smooth, drawling voice broke in, ''Although Alistair has filled us in on certain details, there is quite a bit that I think Bella and I still need to know about this prophecy.''

Kate caught Garrett's eye and then after a moment of some kind of silent communication, they both nodded. ''Well, it's kind of a long story, but I guess I can start,'' Kate began slowly, collecting her thoughts. ''The Volturi were not always what they are now. They weren't obsessed and power-hungry. At one point in history, they actually showed some small manner of respect for humans, especially ones with gifts. They felt that certain humans should be made immortal in order to preserve their talents, whether in art, science, or invention. To allow these individuals to grow old, wither, and die a human death was seen as a terrible waste of beauty and ability, and it was a widely held belief that changing these mortals was doing them a great favor. Also, the idea of a so-called ''vegetarian'' vampire was not unheard of, nor necessarily seen as unnatural. It was merely a choice that certain immortals made, and it was rather common, even trendy for a century or two, much like fad diets or health food crazes among humans. I won't say that there was a peaceful co-existence between humans and vampires, it wasn't that, of course not. Generally, as a species, humans were viewed by the average vampire as our weaker ancestors. And naturally, we took advantage of their weaknesses. ''

''You fed off of them,'' I reiterated.

''Of course we fed off of them!'' Kate stated emphatically. ''Drinking human blood was natural to us; we had evolved, in a sense, and we adapted and survived the way we knew how. We had been catapulted to the very top of the food chain, and behaved accordingly. That's not to say that we weren't discriminating in who we hunted, once we had passed out of the hunger frenzy that came with being a newborn. Many chose to kill only criminals; thieves, murderers, adulterers, and so forth. Another kind of 'diet.' These vampires felt that such individuals deserved to be used as food, and they wouldn't really be missed anyway. They saw it as doling out a kind of karmic justice that wasn't being served by the law.

''Like humans, many vampires tend to form covens and groups based on a common belief, or agenda. And there was one such group which was very large and influential,'' she continued. ''They worked directly in conjunction with the Volturi, as a kind of 'special task force' if you will. They called themselves the Literati, and they were dedicated to the preservation of culture. Art, music, poetry, and so forth. These were the vampires who would choose which humans should be turned, saved, in a sense, in order to preserve their talents through immortal life. And for awhile this did appear to work. In fact, some of those that you consider to be the greatest artists and poets of the past few centuries were changed. But, like always, it was not without consequence. And it was harder than expected, particularly as the changed, as populations grew, traveled and expanded, and stories and rumors spread, the way that they do. And these specially selected immortals were forced to remain out of sight, lest they be recognized, and draw attention. They grew despondent in their new existence, realizing that no matter what wondrous works they might create during their now-eternal life, they would not be able to reach their old, beloved audience. Their brilliant creations could only be admired by other vampires, featured on the walls of Volterra, performed in its halls. To their living admirers, they had left the world, and soon anyone who had loved them forgot, grew old, and died. These artists began to grow restless, and eventually, go completely mad. It was like an existential mind-sickness, and their erratic behavior became a threat.

''And so, obviously, the Volturi were very concerned and fearful, and they were forced to eliminate their own most prized creations. After this, they started cracking down, becoming more and more controlling. And all of this led up to the edicts issued forth during the Third Volutri Council, the summit during which many of the laws that they govern by today were written. The Literati was officially disbanded, their practices condemned by the Volturi. But that didn't stop certain members.''

Alistair had apparently decided that he needed to interject here, and did so, explaining, ''You see, some of the Literati had become almost drunk on the blood of these artists. They craved it, became connoisseurs, if you will. Talented human blood was a rare delicacy to them, and no matter what the Volturi said or did, they were not going to stop hunting these humans, even if they couldn't collect them, so to speak.Disgraceful behavior. Made a lot of high-profile messes that the Volturi were not happy about cleaning up. That odd, sickly little Poe fellow in Baltimore,'' Alistair counted on his fingers, ''the handsome singer in Paris, and even that poor, skinny blond boy in Seattle who played the guitar. And that's only naming a few!''

''But these were only some of the former Literati members, the hedonistic ones. They cared only about serving their addictions,'' explained Kate, commandeering the lesson once again. ''Other members of the group went underground, in a manner of speaking, and formed their own sub-sects. One side developed rather, shall we say, self-hating beliefs. These vampires felt that they were damned, or cursed, even an abomination. The madness that eventually infected the turned artists only confirmed to them that the creation of true art or beauty was only possible if one was human. The soul, in their opinion, was what allowed human beings to create such wonderful things. And turning someone into a vampire essentially robbed them of that. They vowed to never change a human again, even under the gravest circumstances. Better to let them truly die with their souls intact, than grant them eternal life, damning them. Certain of those that held this belief, however, elaborated upon it to claim that certain marked humans should be, well…assassinated is probably the best word. They called themselves the Memento Mori.''

''Marked humans?'' I echoed. ''What does that mean?''

Kate sighed. ''In the Volterra Archives, there is a kind of index of all vampires who currently exist. Sort of like Social Security in this country. Of course, some go under the radar, but the Voturi felt that to have control they needed to keep a count, or at best some sort of exhaustive record. After the new laws were written during the Third Council, they began to push it a step further. They wanted a way to screen for humans who might possibly become vampires. Apparently, they didn't learn very much from the mistakes of the past. You can't guarantee with any absolute certainty what a human will be like once they are changed. But still, they wanted to try and get a glimpse of what the future held.''

''How would they do this…this kind of screening process?'' asked Jasper, who hadn't really said much until then.

''Well, the Volturi has always kept seers in their employ. Being able to see the future has always been an ability that was highly prized. And these seers saw it as their duty to go out undercover and essentially 'scan' or 'read' humans until occasionally they would find one whose future revealed becoming a vampire. The names of these humans were cataloged and then kept in a very secure location inside the Archives, as well as a list of any potential abilities that they might possess, based on what the seers saw in their future. It was all very secretive, almost like what your CIA does,'' Kate laughed, but it was a bitter sound. ''The seers would, occasionally also make prophecies based on their visions. The contents were always written down, and once again filed away where only a few would have access to them. Now, one prophecy in particular caused the Volturi a lot of worry, especially considering that this was around the time when they believed that they were gaining absolute authority over all immortals. This prophecy stated that in the first part of the next century, in the Northwestern part of the United States, there would be a human, a girl, with abilities and potential unlike anything seen before. She would live among the vampires, and they would guard her as their own. The girl was destined to become a perfect immortal, one who had the power to 'create an un-killable army with a single thought.' She would challenge the Volturi, and she would be victorious, ending their reign and ushering in a new era.''

''Bella,'' Jasper said simply, resting a hand on my knee.

Kate nodded. ''None other than. But the prophecy and several other documents went missing from the Archives shortly after that. I can safely say, though, that both the Volturi and this rogue faction, the Memento Mori, could want Bella dead, but for different reasons. Likewise, those who protect her have their own reasons for doing so.''

''The vampire who attempted to murder Bella, though, used a gun,'' added Alistair, leaning his head back against the elegant chair and studying the ceiling, ''which would certainly implicate the Memento Mori, whose assassination tactics were always of the human variety, to avoid drawing any sort of undue attention to themselves. All of their killings were always made to seem like random, untimely human deaths. Just plain old bad luck.''

''I thought that you said you didn't know any more than what you already told us,'' Jasper said, glaring daggers at the English vampire.

''And as I recall, Sir, you said that you didn't want a history lesson!''

The two continued to bicker until, unable to stand it anymore, I stood up abruptly and crossed the room to where Alistair was sitting, and yanked the bottle of Scotch from his hands. That got his attention.

''I say, young lady, I hardly think—'' he began, but I shot him a deadly look, unscrewed the top and took a huge sip. Ugggh. It slid down my throat with a slow, smooth burn.

''Strong stuff, eh Milady?'' Alistair winked at me. ''You'd better take it easy there.''

''It's a placebo effect, remember?'' I grumbled, but handed the bottle back to him.

I sighed, and stared around the room at the faces of my friends and my lover. ''I thought that the Volturi wanted me to become a vampire. What sense would that make if they were afraid of me?''

''Well, it's entirely possible that they were certain you would never find out about the prophecy. Maybe they believed that even if you were turned, your overthrow of them could be prevented if they got to you first, brought you over to their side, somehow,'' explained Garrett.

''Just like Anakin Skywalker in Revenge of the Sith,'' I muttered.

''Pardon?'' said Alistair, looking confused. He took another large gulp of Scotch, seemingly happy to have it back in the safety of his grip once again.

''Could it be, though, that not every member of the Volturi is even aware of everything that the prophecy said?'' I asked. ''Didn't you say that it's missing? Who took it? What did they want with it? And another thing—'create an un-killable army with a single thought' ? What the hell does that even mean?''

Suddenly, the energy of the house shifted as I became aware that the four of us were not alone, but I didn't sense any danger. Instead, I caught a noticeable new scent in the air, along with the comfortable warmth of a familiar aura. Startled, I whirled around, just as Carlisle entered the room.

I couldn't help it; I let out a yelp of excitement and practically flew across the room and into his arms, nearly knocking him down. ''Ooops, sorry, I forgot that I'm strong!'' I said, loosening my grip. ''I'm so happy to see you!''

''And I am very happy and relieved to see you, Bella. Jasper called me and told me everything.'' Carlisle frowned. ''I'm very sorry that your change had to occur under such terrible circumstances. I understand that you obviously still have some questions, and I'm here to try and help answer those. Starting with the last one. Rosalie!'' he called. Rosalie? What on earth was Rosalie doing here?

The beautiful, elegant vampire entered the room, her lips pursed in a thin line. But she wasn't alone. At her side, there stood what seemed to be a person, but I couldn't tell. It was almost completely covered, shrouded in blankets.

''Wh—who is that, exactly?'' I asked, pointing.

''Yet another mistake of yours, apparently,'' Rosalie mumbled, glaring at me, taking in my changed appearance with stinging contempt.

''Rosalie, we talked about this,'' Carlisle warned her sharply. ''When you agree to help, you agree to be civil. And Bella,'' he continued, ''I need to show you something, and it may be a little…disturbing at first.''

He motioned to Rosalie, and she gently pulled the blankets off of the person standing next to her.

Only I wasn't sure if you could call it a person. It was more of a creature; tiny, thin, almost wraith like. It looked like a girl, the features were feminine but deformed, as if it had been in a terrible accident, burnt beyond recognition. The being had long, dark hair and eyes that were almost completely black. It didn't seem to be able to speak, but it could walk and move.

Kate hissed and reared back, obviously horrified. Garrett and Alistair just stared in disbelief and confusion.

Jasper was at my side in an instant, placing a hand protectively on my shoulder. ''Remember when we had that talk on the plane about thought monsters?'' he whispered, his voice shaking a little.

I didn't think, just reacted instinctively, growling and reaching for the strange creature. Its deformed face registered no surprise or alarm, and it made no sound. The minute my fingers came into contact with its skin, the being completely disintegrated, leaving only a small pile of ash on the floor where it had stood only a moment before.

Rosalie gasped and leapt back, obviously not anticipating what had occurred. Only Carlisle remained fairly calm, as he always seemed to be able to, despite the circumstances.

''What the hell just happened?'' I demanded. Out of shock, my hand remained extended in the air.

''It would appear,'' Carlisle said slowly, ''that Bella has developed a kind of unconscious ability to actually create a being simply by trapping psychic energy.''

''I didn't make that thing!'' I shrieked. ''Why would I want to create something so horrible?''

Carlisle shook his head, rushing on to explain, ''But that's exactly it, Bella. You didn't do it intentionally.'' Now he addressed the rest of the room. ''My friends, the…being that we brought here is what's known in Tibetan mysticism as a Tulpa. It is created purely by the mind power and discipline of the creator. Now, typically, the one who creates the Tulpa sets out with the intention and desire to create the being. In fact, usually it is created for a specific purpose, and then it is dissolved once that purpose has been fulfilled. The Tulpa technically cannot be killed, it can usually only be destroyed or un-made by the mind of the one who created it, or, in certain instances, if the creator dies, then the Tulpa also ceases to exist. It isn't actually alive in the true sense of the word, though it can appear to be.''

''Jasper told me,'' he continued, ''that he thought Bella might have developed an ability to actually create an almost tangible force field through harnessing trapped emotional energy, usually drawing from the energies contained in a memory. This ability is, for now, as I've said before, largely unconscious and uncontrolled. I believe this Tulpa that you all saw today was created during a large psychic explosion that radiated out from Bella while she was being changed. Somewhere, there existed a great deal of concentrated, trapped, almost electrically charged energy that was somehow connected to Bella's mind. And all it needed in order to take on solid form, was a spark.''

''Why was it so horrible-looking?'' asked Kate, shuddering.

For whatever reason, Rosalie scowled at her, then, surprisingly, answered the question. ''From what I understand about all of this…witchcraft, or whatever it is, usually the person who makes it has the intention to do so, like Carlisle said. And they can make it look like whatever they want. But technically, nobody created Shrimp. She was just sort of thrown together in a jumble of whatever psychic goop Bella left behind in her room.''

''Shrimp?'' repeated Jasper, staring incredulously at her.

''I called her Shrimp, because she was little and ugly, but it wasn't her fault. '' Rosalie whispered.

''Rosalie,'' Carlisle said softly, ''We talked about this. She wasn't real.''

Rosalie didn't say anything, just retreated into sulking silence.

Suddenly, I remembered something. Jasper, staring up the staircase at my house in Forks, asking, ''how did you do that?'' I clapped a hand over my mouth. ''She—it—came from my room? How did it get out?''

''She broke the window,'' explained Rosalie, sounding almost impressed. ''Poor Charlie thought someone had broken in,'' she laughed. ''And then your dog friend found her running around the woods. Said something about her having your scent. He brought her to Carlisle, all freaked out. Said he didn't even want to know.''

''Oh my God,'' I said. If I didn't have the strength of an immortal, I might have fainted. Jasper wrapped his arms around me, running his fingers soothingly up and down my back. I stared down at the pile of ashes that was still sitting on the floor.

''You didn't know. And it was natural that you dissolved her; you didn't hurt anything, she was only a figment of your mind,'' Carlisle told me reassuringly, ''But now you see the ability that you posses. And the prophecy was correct, if you were focused enough, I believe that you could create an army, if you had to.''

I clung to Jasper as hard as I could, knowing that I had to ask a question but terrified of the answer. Finally, I drew myself up and gathered the courage to ask it. ''Will I have to?''

Carlisle didn't respond for a moment, but then he said ''That…remains to be seen.''

A/N Who really tried to kill Bella? What is Rosalie's agenda? Where exactly is Edward, and how does he fit into all this? Did Alice ever get the diary back? More answers to come; stay tuned!