A/N: I have another chapter for you lovely people (and another one to be posted on Monday.) Thank you, for reading and sticking around. It warms my heart and keeps me writing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or anything resembling Twilight. I do own this plot and characters not publically recognized.

Enjoy.

"Evil plans~" Way Down East — 1920

Bella's POV

"This last one . . . I remember my mom singing to my dad. It's one of my favorites and it is for you, wherever you are."

Noah turned to look at me, mentally trying recall if I had ever sung this one in front of him. I hadn't. I had learned the chords but had never actually played it. Doing so felt almost sacrilegious — this was their song — but as soon as I heard myself say the words I knew there was no other song I wanted to play. Music, I had discovered, was its own kind of magic capable of vague memories it was there, anchoring me to a time and place, keeping them and the life we had shared alive — if only for a brief moment.

And so you see I have come to doubt

All that I once held as true

I stand alone without beliefs

The only truth I know is you.

I could feel my voice shaking and my fingers trembling but I pushed on regardless. This was never going to be an easy song, I knew that but I never knew the extent of what it would wake. How could I have known? The surge of vulnerability and nostalgia I felt was overwhelming but nothing compared to this . . . love. It was different than what I was used to. With so many souls and hearts gathered it was understandable that what stirred within them would soon seep into me; performing was like that sometimes — raw and consuming. But this new emotion wasn't from any external source but rather from within. And it was strong. It gripped me by the throat, a love for someone I barely remembered.

My heart was beating so fast and loud I wondered if they could hear it. Could he hear it too? I hoped he could.

Noah had stopped playing after the first verse; my guitar and my voice moved through the night alone. I hated singing alone, always had. When the last note faded I thanked them for listening and walked off the stage.

xXXx

From the dock below I could hear the party going strong in my absence. A lone violin carried the giddy notes of Gari Gari over softly lapping waves. My fingers, significantly more calm now, played the notes silently on my new guitar. For years Nik had let me use his guitar, it was practically mine, but his was right handed and I was not. Fondly, I ran my hand down the body.

The wood, rainbow poplar, he had told me excitedly, was unique with muted shades of greens, yellows and purples dancing through the grain. He chose it because he said it reminded him of me. He thought of everything; my frame, the orchestra body I preferred, and the sound I favored. The wood was sturdy and could take a beating, Nik had told strings were Phosphor Bronze, which still produced that bright and warm sound I loved from the Bronze strings but with a longer life line. Clearly, it was gift meant to last me a very long time. Bluebells and snowdrops bloomed all along the body and around the sound hole — Lila's addition to my gift. Even the strap was a work of art; Jo had woven smooth jade beads into the intricate macrame pattern of her own design. It was a wonder that they had all been able to keep it from me. I could feel the love they poured into it when I held it, even more so when I played. It was the most beautiful gift I had ever received and I doubted I would ever receive anything like it.

And the music it made . . . nothing had ever sounded so magical.

Setting the guitar down beside me I linked my fingers together and stretched my arms over my head; a satisfying series of cracks rippled from my fingers to my shoulder blades. Tonight was a good night. It felt good to sing and breathe and dance, to just be. I had lived my life up to now thinking of only what was coming. Always what was next. Even this past year was spent learning, practicing, reading and preparing myself for the inevitable but tonight was a night to for celebrating — a night for fun. I had forgotten what fun felt like, how birthdays were supposed to feel like; the magic, the joy, the massive honey and lavender cake. This was the first birthday in a long time that I truly enjoyed and how strange that it was this birthday.

Maybe it was a good sign of things to come.

Natalis sextodecimo. Sixteen is an auspicious age for a witch. This was the age when the power of each witch fully reveals itself. At this age we set foot on the path our lives will take and how we begin the journey is important. The house is always prepared, decorated with the witch in mind, herbs and flowers meant to strengthen her, protect her, and most of all guide her. A ceremony was held at sundown, blessing her and her future, and all the lives she will touch and the ones that will touch her. Afterward, there was a party, with food and music and gifts.

I had seen three Natalis Sextodecimos and watched each of my cousins change. With Dana and Vi, a deeper intuition bloomed, deeper still than that of the female variety. Lila's was the most marked, though, her gifts in potions and apothecary now rivaled Jo's. The stillroom that had been our classroom was now her domain and she was a wonderful teacher. I wondered how I would change, where I would grow and if it would be enough.

The waves continued to whisper under my bare feet, glowing softly from the lights above while my thoughts wandered. Eventually, they settled on my mother.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. The sea breeze always made me think of her, how no matter how far from the ocean we were she always smelled faintly of the sea — a piece of this place she took with her when she left. She was never far from my thoughts but today she was closer than ever.

You have to be strong for me. I could almost hear her as if she was sitting next to me.

The memories in which she was telling me to be strong were the clearest ones I had of her, perhaps because she was so adamant about it. Or because it seemed like that was all she ever did. Details were lost but some things stuck; like the way her hands felt on my cheeks, how her voice was always softer when she sang that Simon and Garfunkel song, or how deeply she loved my father. I could never forget a love like that. It was a seed of that of love that I had felt so many times this year, always the same — an emotion surrounding me, the author invisible but not unknown. Just like it had at Oakrim Manor.

I always assumed that I loved Carlisle, perhaps in the most fundamental way a person could love another — platonic and innocent. But now it was different. It was all different and it scared me. Everyone I knew had had crushes, kisses, short and passionate relationships that last about as long as a loaf of bread by this age. Not me. I had never felt any romantic inclination towards anyone. Then tonight with that song . . . it suddenly was there, lodged in my chest and I didn't know what to do with it.

"Needed a break from the merriment?"

I sighed and opened my eyes. "Just a short one."

It was only a matter of time before someone came looking for me. When I looked away from the water and at him I saw that he held my boots in his hand. I took them, slipping both on quickly and adjusting the knife I kept in the left one. I thanked him; my toes were getting a little numb.

Noah shrugged off my thanks and moved the guitar so he could sit next to me. "Too much attention?"

"You could say that." I lied.

He nodded and looked out at the calm and starry ocean. "You'd think you'd be used to it by now. The attention, I mean. How are you going to be a famous folk singer if you don't like the attention?"

I frowned. "I don't want to be famous."

He arched his bushy eyebrows at me, suggestively. "Infamous folk singer then?"

"I don't want that either."

"What do you want?"

The question was simple, the answer was not. I wanted so many things but I didn't dare say them. Instead, I laid back across the dock. "How long do you have?"

"Forever," he answered, laying down beside me.

"No such thing."

"With the right person . . . " His words trailed off, his thoughts continued.

"Noah."

"Bella."

We laid there in a tense sort of silence, the type of silence that was becoming more and more frequent between us. I knew what he wanted to say, what he had been wanting to say for a long time.

Before he could work up the courage to profess himself, I answered his question. "I want everyone I love to be safe and happy and live long peaceful lives."

"Is that all?" He asked sarcastically. "Everyone you love . . . Am I on the list?"

I hesitated. "Of course you are."

"You love me?"

"Yes, you're family."

"Family," he repeated.

He didn't like it, he hated it almost as much as when I called him my friend. Typically, Noah wasn't the type that wounded easily — he was too cocky for that but words like "friend" and "family" from me wounded him greatly. Nothing I could do would make him feel better; silence was usually the key, the moment would pass or he would shelve the sting of rejection until he was alone. The tension usually dissolved after a few moments.

"Did you see Joyce and Keith going at it by Jo's tomatoes?" He asked after a while, eyes bright.

I sighed in relief, then laughed as I watched it play out in his head. His uncle drunkenly groping Joyce, pushing her against Jo's Zebra Ritas. The sound of tomatoes squishing beneath their feet. "No."

"It was worse live, trust me." Noah sat up, gesturing with his hands.

"He was so drunk he was squeezing the damn tomatoes instead."

"Oh God," I said between the chortles.

"And she . . . She didn't even notice! How does that happen?"

His smile was wide and genuine, his eyes bright as he continued the retell the tale of his uncle's drunken hookup. I'm not sure why we found the scene so hysterical but we did. There we were sitting on the dock, struggling to breathe and tears in our eyes. Each attempt to control ourselves dissolved into laughter with a squeezing gesture of his hand.

"He's gonna need some of Jo's Hair of the Dog in the morning."

"More like Hair of Toad." I joked, setting Noah off again.

My sides ached in my best way possible and Noah was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. Really, Hair of Toad was disgusting, not just in taste, which was indescribably horrible, but in the way the concoction congealed and clung to your tongue. Still, it was said to cure all sorts of minor ailments. Imagining either one of their faces after down a tablespoon full was hilarious.

"Bella," Noah said once we calmed down, whipping his cheeks with the back of his hands. "Will you do something for me?"

"Probably," I answered, rolling my eyes at him. "If you ask nicely."

"Ask me to kiss you, please?"

"Noah — "

"Please, just once."

"No."

"Why?" He breathed.

"Do I need a reason?"

"No, but I do."

"Isn't no enough?"

He frowned and turned my words over in his head. "It's him, isn't it? He's the reason why you won't do it. You love this fantasy . . . that ghost?"

I didn't answer. That ache I had felt for as long as I could remember now had a name and grew sharp when I thought of what Eva had shown me. But Carlisle was only part of my reason.

"I felt it, you know," Noah whispered. "I suspected it for a while but . . . tonight. That song, you sang it for him. You love this guy and you don't even know him. You don't even know if he's real."

He shifted closer until we were almost touching; I could feel his warmth through my dress. I wanted to move but there was nowhere to go but the sea.

"How can you accept this? Bella, how we live and who we love, those are choices. When did you make this one?"

He spoke my fears in a soft, soothing voice. I turned to face him.

"Who made this choice for you?"

"No one made it for me." But I was becoming less and less sure of that.

"How can you love someone you don't know? Where did he come from and how did he come to have so much of your heart?"

"I don't know." I sat up, the lump of my mother's necklace cold against my thudding heart. "But it doesn't matter."

"How can it not matter?" Noah looked at me, pain and longing written on his face and in his thoughts. "I love you."

The light from the party above lit his wild hair, strands loosened by the wind and all the dancing. From the outside, the scene looked idyllic but looks weren't everything.

"No, you don't."

He rushed to his feet as if all his anger rushed to his head forcing him to stand. "Don't tell me how I feel, Bella. Dammit! I know I feel!"

He was a friend, but always one with an ulterior motive — that was the bittersweet truth of our relationship. He loved me but it was too shallow, too easily ruled by desire. Most of the time, he wanted more than he loved.

"That wasn't what I meant, Noah."

The anger drained out of him and he softened. Noah cupped my face with one hand, brushing a calloused thumb across my cheek. Tears pooled in his eyes.

"Can you feel what it does to me, this one-sided love affair?"

I wanted to tell him that his pain was of his own making — I had never asked for his love, or done anything to encourage it — and he shouldn't hold me responsible for it but it seemed unkind. Softly, I brushed away his hand.

"I don't love you that way. I need you to respect that or . . . "

"Or what?"

"Respect it or leave," I told him simply.

He looked stunned as if he thought I'd go right on until forever tolerating his advances. "You'd ask me to leave?"

"I'd make you."

"Make me?" Noah breathed, eyes wide. "Is this the line in the sand? All those years, all that history. The songs we wrote together—"

"Are worth nothing if you can't do what I'm asking you."

Realization grew in his eyes. "You'll never be mine."

"I'm not a prize, Noah," I snapped, irritated with the way he saw me.

"And I don't belong to anyone."

"Even him?" Noah sneered.

"I don't think love works the way you think it does."

"What do you know of love, Bella?" He flinched at the bitterness of his words but didn't apologize for them. "You know nothing about love. Not how it can burn you or make you miserable . . . Sure, you've seen it, felt it second hand but what do you know personally? Nothing. You're a voyeur, intruding on emotions and thoughts."

I feel tears sting at the corners of my eyes. His words were cutting. "A voy — voyeur . . . Does hurting me make you feel better?"

Noah didn't answer but his eyes drifted, from my eyes to my lips and lingered there. He wanted to bend down and kiss me as he had done so many times.

"Don't," I warned.

The night had gone cold and quiet. It took me a moment to notice just how thick the silence had fallen around us and why. The party above had stopped; the music was gone, the aura of safety joy leeched. At first, I thought that it was only because of how I was feeling but then . . . Even the air felt charged; it snapped and buzzed over my skin. Something wasn't right. Noah looked up towards the house, having just noticed the lack of noise, then back at me. His eyes widened and reflected a fear I felt coursing through my veins.

Then I heard it, a strange thought that I might have overlooked had Eva not warned me.

"Nik," I breathed.

I scrambled to my feet and ran the length of the dock, taking the wide steep stairs as fast as I could. Behind me, Noah called me softly, aware of the danger but unsure if I should be exposed to it.

When I reached the top, I was forced to stop. The path to the inlet came up around the far side of the backyard, nearer to the forest than the house. Our guests were pushed back toward the cliff side and the neighboring woods like a herd of sheep. From where I stood I could see remnants of the party; tables, food, and casks of beer and cider were pushed over, broken and tossed aside to create a sort of clearing in the yard.

Noah came to an abrupt stop behind me, nervous energy rolling off him in waves. Jo stood by her garden, across the yard. As frantically as I searched, she was the only one I could find. Still, I moved closer without a thought for my own safety, needing to see what everyone was focused on with my own eyes. I didn't want to believe it.

Dhampir.

Men, six or seven, dressed in dark clothing stood in the clearing. Men, I say men because they looked like men, smelled like men, and if you weren't paying attention you could mistake for men but they were so much more. And less.

The Hunter. I had devoured their story like a work of fiction, believing that it was our past. How wrong I had been. The effect of myth crashing with reality was numbing.

"It's really quite simple. Give us the girl and we'll be on our way." His voice was deep and menacing, and familiar. It took me a moment to place it but when I did all I could think of was Soleil screaming.

I took a step forward but Noah was there. His arm clenched around my waist, holding me in place. Something, some errant thought of mine must have caught Jo's attention because I could feel her, pinning me in place more effectively than Noah ever could. She looked at me once, ordered me to stay where I was, then released me. She expected obedience. Her eyes moved to Nik. Everyone and everything else melted away as she watched the man she loved in danger.

Why didn't she do something?

"Where is she?"

The others peered into the crowd, their faces stoic masks.

"You all know whom I speak of — Isabella, a little witch with dark hair and a scar down her back." The man asked, his voice carrying over the sea breeze. I heard my name in all their thoughts but no one spoke, yet. The knife at Nik's throat pressed a little harder, just breaking the skin. "All we want is the girl. Give her to us and we'll let this man go."

I struggled against Noah as he walked backward, sinking deeper into the crowd. No one seemed to notice us.

"Don't," he whispered in my ear. "Stop moving."

He was shaking, from fear and from the effort of keeping me hidden.

Our friends, gathered here for me, were scared and contemplating the value of this man's word. Would he really let us go, they wondered. Can it really be that easy? The older one's matched the scene unfolding in front of them to others they had witnessed in their youth. It was too familiar. The less noble, less loyal in our group, looked for me.

Where is she? I heard, move across their thoughts like a wave.

"No one? I know she's here...I can smell her." He inhaled deeply. "Such a sweet scent she is no use in hiding the girl, you'll die and we'll take her all the same."

Nik's eyebrow was bleeding, split from a blow I hadn't seen but promised to repay. The knife was digging into his throat and even through the pain he kept his eyes on Jo.

Alles ist gut, he told her.

Everything is okay.

Jo said nothing but I felt her cracking, little bits of her shattering into pieces that would never be whole again. I seen this before, felt it before . . . the night my family was taken from me. I could feel myself being pulled under the weight of the memory I had buried so deeply.

My father on his knees in our living room, my brothers beside him, watching my mother and I. He reassured her that everything was fine, over and over he told her everything was fine.

"It's alright, my love." He told her in his thoughts, lovingly.

He said those words right up to the moment they slit his throat. My mother broke, then and there. Everything else that happened to her that night paled in comparison.

Alles ist gut.

Out of the mental voices searching for me the ones of my cousins were the loudest. Vi was the closest and spotted me right away. The need to protect me was stronger than the need to protect herself — I had never felt that much . . . devotion from her. It surprised me, humbled me. I never knew that her loved ran so deep. She was fierce, ordering me to stay where I was, to stay hidden. Vi chanted it over and over and, mirroring her demand Dana and Lila began doing so as well.

Alles ist gut.

The words were too familiar, the sentiment behind them too painful to live through again. Vi was moving closer, carefully, concerned as she watched my face and the emotions that played across it. She knew what I was going to do and was determined to stop me.

"Let go of me," I whispered, trying to free myself.

"Are you fucking crazy?"

I clawed at his arm, breaking the skin. "Please."

No. I'm not letting you do this.

Briefly, he pictured the inlet, thought about dragging me there.

"That's not up to you."

"Bell — "

A short but strong shock stole the words from his mouth and his grip loosened. Without wasting time I shoved my way to the front, ignoring the combined mental shouts from my family. Vi's was the last face I saw before I step out in the open, it was a mixture of sadness, anger, and shock. I hope she could forgive me, that they all would.

"I'm here. Leave him alone."

Nik looked away from Jo at the sound of my voice. "Bella, nein."

"Indeed you are." With a slight inclination of his head, he ordered his men. Two of them came towards me and grabbed my shoulders roughly.

"Is this man your uncle?" I nodded. "Very brave of you to give your life for him, for them. So noble." He moved the knife away from his throat, gesturing behind me. "I wonder . . . would they do the same for you?"

The resounding silence made him smile.

"Please," I begged calmly, watching the way he held my uncle by his hair. "Please, let him go. Here I am, I won't run . . . just let them go."

He brought the knife back down to Nik's throat and yanking his head back.

"Mercy is a weakness." The men that had been standing behind him passively, chuckled. "I'm going to kill your uncle, your aunt, and your cousins, then those twins boys."

Both men pulled me over to where my uncle kneeled.

"Then we will deal with them."

Panic rose, but there was nowhere to go.

Alles ist gut.

"Did you really think that we would let any of you go." I could feel his hatred, his disgust; it came from him in bursts. He didn't shout, he didn't need to. Fear is what he wanted and there was so much it here.

"Let them go, please. They can't hurt you. They aren't a threat anymore."

"How the mighty have fallen." He laughed through his nose, a soft little huff. "A girl left to plead for what once was so formidable. How have you let it come to this? Don't mistake me, I get more pleasure from this than you will know . . . but how could this have happened? It must be God's retribution. Generation after generation less powerful than the last, nothing but a ragged band of misfits living off the past."

He looked out at them and through their eyes I could see how right he was. They knew it, we were doomed to myth and legend.

"Still, leave one weed and soon more shall sprout up. This time we rid the garden of every abomination, from the elder to the babe."

Three of the Hunter moved past us, stalking slowly towards the crowd behind me. They were trapped between the sea and the dark forest, running in either direction was fruitless. Their terror rose around me, shrieks and sobs erupted among them. Tears of anger rolled down my face as I pulled against the hands that held me. "Leave them alone! Fucking Bastards!"

"Such a filthy mouth for someone so young." He clucked his tongue. "We'll have to teach the girl some manners, won't we, Matthew."

"I'm a good teacher," Matthew growled in my ear.

My skin crawled as I saw how he intended to teach me. How could it be that I was standing in the exact same place as I had ten years ago? I had promised myself a long time ago that I would never let anyone hurt me that way.

Ten years ago my mother had told me to run, I hadn't. Tonight, Jo wanted me to hide, I hadn't. I couldn't be the witch Jo wanted me to be or the one my mother hoped for; I could only be myself. I set aside what Jo had taught me about patience and compassion. She preached peace and control — those things had their place but this was war and I felt no peace, only rage and a burning surge of power that was almost painful.

The knife pressed into the sinew of Nik's neck, making him wince. A rivulet of blood ran down the length of his neck, staining his shirt. He looked at me with tears in his eyes.

"Alles ist gut, Bella." His voice trembled.

"Nein . . . aber es wird sein."

My chest burned, tears blurred my vision. Something was building inside me, something familiar, twisting and growing. This was the power Eva had spoke of. I wasn't afraid. I didn't try to control it. I let it breathe, gave it room to unfurl.

Time felt slow but I knew I didn't have much of it. Just like Nik had taught me, I shoved my right elbow back into Matthew's nose, reached down into my boot and grabbed my knife. I thrust the blade up into the second Hunter's side hard as I could, ripping it out quickly and spinning it my hand, ready for the next attack. He fell to the ground, bleeding, wounded but not for long. Matthew was getting up and reaching for me but I grabbed his wrist, snapped it back and brought the blade down hard across his throat.

There must be screaming, orders being shouted in the seconds it took them to react but I heard none of it. My body was vibrating, the energy inside me building and drawing closer and closer to my heart — as if it drew power from it. My chest felt hot and my hands moved hold that heat. I could see the rest of The Hunter rushing towards me and when I felt the tips of their fingers on my skin I let go.

I screamed, the sound pierced the night, ringing through the trees as what had been building finally burst free. It was so quick, a flash of red light. At first, it hurt, burned me as I watched them caught in a whirlwind of fire, burning hot and fast, reduced to ash floating in the air. Then my world was still, suspended in the aftermath — I felt nothing, just a strange sort of emptiness before it all crashed around me.

Alles ist gut.

A/N: Well, there it is. Thank you for reading. Have a safe and Happy Halloween Weekend.

Translations:

Natalis sextodecimo = Sixteenth Birthday

Dhampir = Halfbreed

Alles ist gut = Everything is okay

Nein . . . aber es wird sein= No... but it will be.