Chapter 25 – Three

I went back to the rocking chair, sanding with such vigour I had stripped the paint and was in danger of destroying the frame itself within minutes. Edward came out of the house, giving me a grin and then looking down at the framed sketches.

"I'll help you hang them in the music room," he said, picking them up and dusting the frames. "They'll look good in there."

"He really is the most infuriating man sometimes," I muttered with bad grace. No one would think he'd just bought me a very thoughtful and probably very expensive gift!

Edward laughed, looking back over his shoulder into the house. "He might hear you."

"Hmph," I said dismissively. "As if it would make any difference!"

I took a deep breath and forced myself to quiet. Certainly I was beginning to be a little frustrated by Carlisle's reticence, but it wasn't fair to burden Edward with my feelings on that subject. As embarrassed as I had been when he first became aware of my love for Carlisle, Edward was also embarrassed. Particularly when my thoughts about golden eyes and an archangel face and the body of a god began to drift in a certain direction…

Edward coughed and, guiltily, I wrenched my thoughts back to what was in front of me.

"I think I'll just use some oil on this chair," I said hastily. "It's surprisingly good timber under that flaking paint job. It will look nice on the porch once I make a cushion for it."

"Yes, it will be a nice place to sit," Edward said, clearly relieved that I was no longer intent on thoughts of Carlisle. "Let's go and hang these in the music room."

After the frames were hung and I had admired them for a while, I went and leaned against the doorjamb of Carlisle's medical study, watching as he knelt on the floor and flipped through one of his old medical journals.

"I've had an interesting case come into the hospital," he told me absently. "I had a very similar case some time ago, so I want to cross reference the journal entries."

I knew he had no need to cross reference the entries, his perfect recall made it superfluous. "Do you think someone else will read your journals one day?" I asked curiously. "Is that why you're so meticulous with indexing and referencing?"

He looked up at me, considering. "I suppose I think they might be read, one day. It would be a pity to see the knowledge gained over so many years simply fade away, if something were to happen to me. During my studies I've learned so much from the writings of those who came before me, it seems only fair that I do what I can to pass it on."

"How many of those journals do you have?"

Carlisle laughed. "A ridiculous amount for a modest man! Most of my earlier notes and journals are in the Volturi's library in Volterra. I left them when I came to America, I knew they would be safe there and I wasn't sure what my life would be like here. I keep some of my writing and journals in storage in New York and in Chicago, and the rest are here in the house." He looked at me with wide eyes. "You know you may read them at any time if you wish? The medical journals are probably rather dry, but the personal journals you may find more interesting."

The idea perked my interest. "I might do that." Perhaps I would get to know him better through the memories he had chosen to record. "Where is Volterra?"

Carlisle looked surprised. "I thought I'd mentioned it to you?"

I shook my head.

"Volterra is in Italy." A reminiscent smile crossed Carlisle's face. "You probably don't remember any longer, but you and I spent some time talking about Italy when you were in hospital with your broken leg. I told you I'd spent some time there…I was talking about the time I spent in Volterra, with the vampire coven that lives there called the Volturi."

I didn't tell Carlisle then that the two memories of my human life that remained dazzlingly clear were the feel of my baby in my arms, and the hours I spent with the vampire doctor, listening to his honeyed voice and watching his archangel face as he talked.

"You haven't told me very much at all about other vampires," I ventured.

"The Volturi are the closest thing vampires have to a government. They live in an enclave in the city of Volterra," Carlisle told me. "Aro, Caius and Marcus rule, and they have a group of vampires who act as their guards and enforcers."

I raised my eyebrows. "It sounds rather medieval."

"It can be." A faint frown crossed Carlisle's face. "I lived with them for around two decades, and I still wouldn't say I understand them. Aro is one of the most civilised vampires I have ever met, fascinated with the arts and sciences, with a deep thirst for knowledge and understanding…but there's a deep streak of cruelty and brutality there despite that. Their entire society claims their purpose is maintaining secrecy and order in the vampire world, and yet they kill humans, and even sometimes vampires, with such disregard."

"I'm surprised you stayed with them as long as you did." Carlisle's respect for human life was one of his most fundamental beliefs, and I found it hard to imagine him living for so long with people who didn't share that.

Carlisle smiled wistfully. "They were so civilised compared to the only other vampires I'd met that I was half dazzled by the life they offered. They had collections of the most beautiful and important art and literature from all of Western Civilisation. The things I learned just from browsing in their library! And Aro himself had lived through three thousand years of history and had so much knowledge and insight. If it hadn't been for the issue of…well, diet, then I may still be with them."

"You couldn't convince them to take up your human blood abstinence?" I asked with a giggle. "And here I thought you were irresistible!"

Carlisle laughed, his eyes bright. "Certainly not irresistible! Aro was fascinated, we talked about it often and he did hunt with me once, just for the experience. I suppose I hoped that he could be persuaded. But he thought it wasn't possible to maintain and that it would weaken him over time …and that in the end it was an affront to vampirism, which is something that he holds sacred." Carlisle shrugged.

"You never managed to convince anyone to try it?"

Carlisle seemed amused. "I guess I'm not much of an evangelist. I have many vampire friends who regard me as anything from a little eccentric to downright crazy…we enjoy spending time together but I've never managed to convince anyone that this is a worthwhile way to live. The only other vampires I know who share this diet, a coven in Alaska, came to it by their own path." He smiled at me self deprecatingly. "You and Edward are my only converts!"

I laughed a little, but I couldn't help asking, "All these vampire friends…you never found someone you wanted to stay with? Someone special?" I hoped my voice didn't betray the sudden, sharp feeling of jealousy in my heart.

"No. I've known some wonderful, extraordinary vampires that I'm proud to call friends, but no one special. Not like that." Carlisle rubbed the back of his neck self consciously and looked away.

I hid my smile. As infuriating as it could be sometimes, I loved the shy, bashful side to Carlisle. I was beginning to understand him too, and how three hundred years of self denial and self restraint had played their part in shaping the man who now sat before me.

This golden man I was in love with; that I would wait for as patiently as I could for as long as it took him to open his eyes and see what was right in front of him.

It was morning, the dawn still an hour or so away, and I was feeling restless. Edward had been teaching me French, something he had begun learning at school as a human and had become fluent at in his vampire life, and despite it being enjoyable I was tired of it.

"Why don't you go and hunt?" Edward suggested, closing the book. "You could meet Carlisle- his shift will be finished soon."

"I suppose I may as well." My thirst was not extreme, but feeding would be welcome. "Do you want to come?"

"I'll stay here if you don't mind," Edward answered. "You know the music composition I was creating, I think I've worked out a better bridge and I want to try it. If it works I'll play it for you and Carlisle when you return."

He sounded excited about getting to work on his music so I nodded and headed outside. I kicked off my shoes on the porch so I could move through the forest on bare, silent feet, while I kept my senses alert for any inviting scents. The morning was cold, and the forest around me seemed still and almost deserted.

It was lovely to be out alone for a little while. I was able to hunt on my own and did on occasion, but the majority of time I went out with either Carlisle or Edward. While my relationship with Carlisle still felt unsettled to me, my friendship with Edward had grown into something very real and helpful for us both. He was my companion for many of the hours that Carlisle spent at the hospital, and he taught me a great deal about being a vampire. He taught me to play games to pass the time and when he discovered my interest in going to Europe one day he began to teach me French with that in mind. As Carlisle had said, there was a goodness in Edward that drew people to him, and in many ways he was an extraordinary soul.

At the same time though, Edward was still little more than a child, and as he grew to know and trust me he became more willing to share his vulnerabilities. He had a deep streak of melancholy in him, and philosophical questions that Carlisle was happy to ponder would torment Edward. He was attending classes at college and when he struggled with maintaining the pretence of humanity there it was me he turned to. He didn't ever want Carlisle to feel disappointed with him, and although I knew he never would I also didn't mind that Edward came to me. The more I got to know him the more I grew to love him, with a peculiar mix of emotion that encompassed friend love, sibling love, and maternal love, because somehow Edward became all that to me.

He saw me that way too. If Carlisle had become Edward's mentor and father figure in his vampire life, then Edward had begun to assign me the maternal role. I was honoured that he had chosen to see me that way, because I knew how much he had loved and now missed his own mother.

I loved it too. I loved taking care of them, loved feeling that pull of family, loved having them take care of me in turn. I wanted to be what they needed, whether that be a friend, a sibling or a mother. Or something else, that a certain someone didn't know how to ask for.

I was close to town when I first smelled the smoke, but I paid it little attention. It wasn't uncommon for men to go out collecting firewood in the forest and light a small fire for warmth and to boil a cup of tea. I should have noted it and prepared myself, but months of success with resisting human blood had made me careless of the need for vigilance. So I didn't give the wisp of smoke a second thought, and when it was followed by a drift of scent so deliciously enticing that once again instinct roared and rationality vanished, my defences were so unprepared as to be non existent.

I ran, diving the last distance to reach him, my face buried in his neck and my teeth tearing into the pulsing river of blood beneath his skin before he even knew what was happening. He certainly didn't make a sound, and I would always hope that he hadn't known what was happening and that in the confused final moments of his life he hadn't been afraid.

At the time I thought nothing, felt nothing but the blinding wave of pleasure as that overwhelming desire was satisfied. Blood, thick and warm and richly exquisite ran down my throat and my body burned in pleasure as it gave me life. Oh, oh, oh so good!

The shot missed me, the bullet ploughing into the dirt only inches away and I raised my head and stared in sudden, horrified realisation. A body in my arms, the head nearly severed from the savagery of my attack…and a second man, very much alive as he stood on the opposite side of the fire and pointed a rifle at me.

"Get away from him, you murdering bitch!"

A moment of clarity…but it wasn't long enough and I wasn't strong enough. Instead, reason was drowned by brutal, primitive instinct. I'd just fed, but it didn't matter when I could hear his terrified heart beat and smell his blood tinged with fear and there was nothing he could do to stop me as I struck.

My second killing, and my death toll rose to three. Three lives lost to me, three faces I would never forget, three times I had failed.

"Esme!"

I turned my head at the voice and snarled, but then I saw the familiar face and I faltered. Carlisle.

I dropped the body and back away from the carnage I had wrought, my fists pressing into my mouth to hold back my horrified screams.

"Oh God, oh God, I did it again…"

I could see Carlisle's indecision. But the men were dead, and I was…still alive. He came towards me, his hands out and his eyes huge. "Esme…"

I shook my head frantically. "NO! Don't come near me!"

"Please calm down," Carlisle said soothingly. "We'll deal with this. We'll do something…"

"Do what?" I screamed at him. "There's nothing we CAN do, because they're dead and I killed them! You can't even give them this life, because I've torn them apart and killed them…oh, I hate myself for this and I hate you for making me like this!"

I wasn't quick enough as I turned and fled, and I saw the look on his face at my words. Saw the guilt and the grief come crashing down on him as he bowed his head in defeat.