Zenith

Chapter Twenty-six – Something Wicked

First period found me and Angela huddled together in the back of the room, texts books open on our desks as we studiously ignored the in-class assignment. After Angela's impromptu confession in the parking school parking lot, we'd had to hurry to beat the bell to our first class. The moment Mr. Barnes had assigned partnered busy work, our heads converged.

"So, you and Ben…" I trailed off, not sure what she was needing from me but wanting to be a good, supportive friend.

She was blushing. "Yeah. It just sort of happened when he took me home. At least, I don't think he'd planned it."

I nodded my agreement. Ben wasn't good with the subtlety that it required to play something like that off as unprepared. "And you look really happy."

She grinned that silly smile like she had in the parking lot. "Yeah. I mean, I'd always planned to wait for marriage. It wasn't a religious decision. It's just that sex is so intimate and you're completely exposing yourself to someone else."

A boy in the row beside us glanced over curiously. Angela cringed and lowered her voice.

"I never imagined feeling secure enough to take that risk with another person who wasn't someone I planned to spend the rest of my life with." She bit her lip. "But I really love Ben, and he's never once left me feeling vulnerable."

"Wow, Ange, that's—"

She laid a concerned hand on my forearm. "You don't…think less of me, do you? For…you know."

"Oh, no, of course not," I rushed to reassure her. "I think it's great that you and Ben have such a strong relationship. And actually…." I hesitated, not sure if I was really comfortable divulging the intimate details of my own personal life. But a glance at Angela's hopeful face and I was decided. "Actually, Jacob and I did too. Last night. For the first time."

"No way!"

Everyone turned and looked at us. I ducked beneath a curtain of hair.

"Is there a problem, Ms. Webster?"

"No, Mr. Barnes, we were just disagreeing over the answer to number six. Sorry to interrupt."

"Indoor voices."

Once all the students had turned back to their own business, Angela, hit me with a wide-eyed look that had my face heating in record time. "You two really hadn't had sex before?"

I peeked out from hair in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Angela turned her attention to the untouched assignment on her desk. "It's just that you two seemed very…comfy together."

"Comfy?"

She nodded and began carefully writing down an answer to the first problem. "Yeah. Touchy, feely. You know, you looked really comfortable together." She shrugged and glanced up. "And happy."

I didn't understand what she was getting at. "We are. But Jacob and I have always been like that. Even before."

She smiled at problem number two like it'd just given her a puppy.

After first period, the remaining school day was as tedious as ever. The only noteworthy change being when Edward and Alice came to sit with us at lunch. Jessica accepted them openly, more than pleased to have new fodder for the rumor mill. Everyone else, however, was eyeing me carefully, looking to see how I'd react to the development. Mike in particular looked ready to shun them the moment I gave the indication they weren't welcomed.

When I smiled at Alice and asked how her morning classes went, there was a silent, collective sigh of relief and the conversation levels swelled to normal.

At the end of the day my truck was sitting in the parking lot. Alice looked put out.

"Edward made me bring it back," she grumbled, "because you have that meeting."

I didn't ask when she'd had the time to go and get it.

"But we can still spend time together tomorrow. We can't take you outside of Forks, so shopping will have to wait until Victoria's been taken care of. Why don't I come over and do a closet inventory? And we can finally get in those manicures."

"Just say yes." Edward's voice washed over my ear, causing my next breath to catch. "You know how relentless she is."

I turned, startled by his close proximity and even more surprised to see a small smile make an appearance. I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful his smile was.

"Sure, Alice. You can come over tomorrow."

"Excellent." She grinned while bouncing on her toes. "I've missed spending time with you."

I nodded, enjoying her enthusiasm despite the fact that I would spend most of tomorrow hearing her lecture me on the pitiful state of my out of season clothes. "In the afternoon, all right? Some of us do sleep."

She rolled her eyes and turned to Edward. "I'll see you at home."

I watched on in confusion as she skipped over to his Volvo and got in the driver's side door. Edward remained standing at my side. "Are you going somewhere?" I asked.

"I would like to accompany you home. None of the wolves are on patrol there currently, so I hope you don't mind me sticking close by. For your safety."

He watched me expectantly and I really had no choice but to accept. He would follow me even if I didn't offer him a ride. "Sure, but I'm driving."

I caught his smirk before I turned on my heel and headed for my trusty truck.

Edward didn't make any comments about my cautious driving on the way home. I even lowered my speed to 10 MPH below the posted limit just to goad him. He didn't even roll his eyes. I, on the other hand, kept glancing over at his distant expression every few seconds.

Once we arrived at the house I dumped my bag by the front door and—not sure whether or not Edward would follow—headed to the kitchen. Standing at the sink, I poured myself a glass of water, noted that there were quite a few dishes that needed to be washed, and turned around to see that Edward had indeed accompanied me inside.

So this wasn't a simple babysitting assignment.

The sight of Edward sitting in my shabby kitchen had always been unsettling; his ethereal beauty out of place against the background of faded, yellow cabinets and a refrigerator that had seen its heydays in the late 80s. But just then, seeing him perched formally in the same chair I had occupied that morning filled me with unnamable relief.

He was really here.

And he was watching me intently. In complete silence

I blushed, and hurried to gather my thoughts. In my haste I spewed the first question that came to mind. "At school, when you said you were sorry, what did you really mean?"

I cringed at my complete lack of tact.

Edward cast a remorseful look down at the linoleum floor. "I shouldn't have raised my voice at you last night. To say that I was…disturbed by what has happened to you would be an understatement. But that's no excuse for losing my temper." Tentatively he lifted his face, and he looked so solemn and serious that I felt myself being taken back to that afternoon months ago in the woods, when he'd looked at me that way before walking away forever—or what I'd thought would be forever.

"I forgive you," I shakily managed to murmur and then quickly added, "for not believing me. It's true, you know. That vampire in the woods died after drinking my blood." When Edward said nothing, my frustration resurfaced. "I saw him, Edward. He turned to dust. I…I've never seen anything like it." But that didn't mean much, did it? I was eighteen. Edward was over a hundred years old.

"We'll stop it, Bella."

"Stop what?"

He met my eyes with steely determination. "We'll stop whatever it is that's doing this to you. Another vampire most likely. Possibly a coven."

I was shaking my head before he'd even stopped talking. "I really don't think a vampire would give me a tattoo."

But he wasn't as convinced. "We don't know what Victoria's plans are beyond that she creating a following of newborns in Seattle with the purpose of getting to you, through a pack of wolves and our coven if necessary. I highly doubt that there are any lengths to which she is not willing to go to accomplish that end." His voice remained even but I could see the gathering darkness in his eyes. "Perhaps the mark is a means by which to track you. Our kind posses a wide array of talents."

I hadn't thought of that possibility. Felicity had kept referring to someone, a man. Could she have been referring to a vampire? Had she been trying to warn me about this?

My gut told me 'no'. There were too many holes. Like why would a vampire who wanted me dead try to save me from Leah? Why would he get close enough to 'mark' me, but not take me back to Victoria? "It doesn't add up."

"We'll see."

I decided to abandon my attempt to persuade him otherwise. For the moment. I knew that he wouldn't budge on something once he was resolved not to. It was his nature to bend but not break. Or, that was what I'd always thought. But perhaps the fact that he was sitting in my kitchen was proof enough against the assumption.

"Edward?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"Why,"—I kept my gaze firmly glued to the cup clutched in my hands—"did you come back? If you thought being separated was better for me, why come back?"

He spoke slowly and concisely as if he were reading the lines from a cue card. "I wanted you to have a safe, human life away from the dangers of our kind. The dangers I had brought upon you. There was too much I couldn't give you and too much I could take away."

We both knew that wasn't an answer.

"And now?" I whispered.

He went stiff in the chair, his back straight and his jaw set as he mechanically angled his head to peer out the window. The movement of his lips was hardly discernable as he whispered, "I'm incredibly selfish, Bella."

I turned quickly towards the counter to hide my wide eye and trembling hands. The cup dropped into the sink.

Edward had come back for me. He wanted…

What did he want? He'd said that he loved me, and, whether it was because I was delusional or because I was saner now than ever before, I believed him. He'd left in a foolish attempt to protect me—or to protect himself—but what caused him to change his mind? What force had been strong enough to move the most obdurate boy?

"Why?" I asked, my back to him. "Why did you come back?"

"I need you, Bella," he said frankly. "I need you in my life. Of course, at the time I rationalized that I was only coming back to ensure that you were safe, and that you were happy. It was partly true of course, and when I returned to discover you in the midst of young werewolves and at the top of Victoria's agenda, I…" Shaking his head, he closed his eyes. "I felt justified. I felt like you truly needed me."

The sadness in his smile brought me physical pain, and I looked down to see my hand subconsciously rubbing at the skin above my heart.

"But then I met Jacob," he continued. "And I saw what he felt for you, and the love that you had shown him. He wants your happiness as much as Charlie does." He looked at me from beneath long, copper lashes. "And yet I tell myself that I'm better for you. That I'm actually the safer choice." He sounded disgusted with himself. "And it's because I am selfish, Bella. You are my world, me reason for existence, and it was so hard to give you up the first time, that I'm not sure if I can stand to walk away again. I'm nothing without you."

Hearing him say those things in that moment, touched something inside of me that I hadn't known existed—something Jacob had planted months ago and had been carefully tending ever since. And I realized the undeniable truth.

"I love you."

The light that entered his eyes was beautiful. And yet he hesitated. "Still? After everything?"

I nodded. "I will always love you. I don't know how to stop, and even if I did, I don't think I would want to." Being so close to him with his cool breath brushing my face—calling me back to entire evenings we'd spent on my bed, completely wrapped up in one another, when the tenor of his voice was the richest, most pleasant sound I'd ever heard—was nearly overwhelming.

And it almost made me stop. Because the thought of giving that up—forever this time—left me feeling empty. But then I remembered the last time I'd felt this way, and I remembered who had taught me to feel whole again—and I was whole again.

Reaching out, I took one of Edward's hands between my own, making sure to keep his gaze firmly locked with mine as I said, "You will always have a place in my heart, Edward. But you aren't the only one there anymore."

His eye dropped to the floor. His lips dimmed into a frown. "Jacob."

"Yes." Jacob was a large part of it. In more ways than one. "I gave the rest of my heart to him while you were gone. And he…"—I sighed and shook my head in wonder—"…he did something pretty amazing with it."

Tentatively, Edward raised his face. He gazed at my small smile like a man approaching an oasis after spending days trekking through a barren desert. "Tell me," he pleaded.

And I understood what he wanted, what Edward had always wanted from me: my happiness.

"Well, it started with a couple of motorcycles…"

And I told him. Everything.

He was bewildered—and more than a little upset—when I told him how many injuries I'd accumulated during my cyclist stint and the various other risk-taking behaviors I'd partaken in during his absence. And when I told him that I did it all to hear his voice, I saw the silent understanding, but I didn't press.

I talked honestly about how deeply I'd been hurt by his absence and how every afternoon in Jacob's garage found me yearning just a little bit more for something more than nightmare-plagued sleep and painful waking hours. Edward grew grim.

So I told him how Jacob can always make me laugh.

When discussing the past few months, it was impossible not to mention the pack. And though Edward frowned at the mention of Leah's name, he didn't comment. I acknowledged the concession by admitting that while I saw a part of myself in her and in her situation, I could never hate him the way Leah had come to hate Sam. Love and hate would always keep separate company for me.

"I could never hate you, Edward," I admitted, looking at him from across the table, where he'd gestured for me to sit shortly after I'd started talking.

"You should," he said earnestly, bitterly. "After what I put you through. You shouldn't love me at all."

I shook my head. "You can't say one person shouldn't love another," I quoted.

It earned a sad smile from Edward. "And who told you that?"

"Jacob."

He blinked once in surprise. Then he nodded slowly. "He…is very perceptive. Not unlike you."

I nodded. "He sees me in ways, I think, I've never been seen before. And he makes me see myself differently."

It was subtle, the change, something I only noticed whenever I held Jacob's hand and felt perfectly adequate.

"He can give you things that I can't," Edward said quietly. "He has given you things that I could never…"

"Please don't do that," I pleaded, seeing the sacrifice in his eyes. "Don't try to rationalize my choices and make try to make the decisions for me. That's…that's what you did when you left, and look at what it did."

His mouth snapped shut at he looked away, and I could see him trying to gather himself, trying to find that slippery grip on his own self-worth. I knew the struggle. It had taken weeks of patience on Jacob's part for me to learn just the right way to keep a hold of it without crushing it or allowing it to slip through my fingers. Pride was an elusive thing.

Unfolding my hand from my lap, I laid my arm on top of the table, palm up in silent invitation. It was several moments before Edward turned his head to look at me, and then even more stretched by before his eyes lowered to my up-turned hand. His right arm twitched, and Edward seemed to glance at it in reprimand.

I began counting the 18 seconds it took for his smooth, white fist to appear on the table top, the 13.5 seconds it took for it to slide across the finished wood, the 6 seconds it took for his hand to uncurl, and the 3 seconds it took for his fingertips to graze mine.

"Breathe, Bella."

I inhaled deeply as our hands slid together, and feeling my warm, pliable hand wrapped around his cool, solid was like stepping back into my favorite pair of sneakers that had been lost for months beneath my bed. Seeing the ease with which we fit back together made me smile.

Chancing a glance at Edward's face, I noted his serene expression of awe as he stared down at our interlocked hands. His eyes slipped closed as I squeezed his fingers lightly.

"I have to go."

My heart lurched. "Oh."

Reluctantly I began to withdraw my hand, but Edward tightened his hold before I could pull away. He looked at me meaningfully. "Charlie's almost home."

Letting out a quick sigh, I nodded in understanding, and he released me after a final, reassuring squeeze of his hand.

"Jacob will be here shortly," he said as he fluidly rose from the kitchen chair.

"You talked to Jacob?" I asked, incredulous.

Edward nodded briskly. "I needed to inform him that we would be taking you home from school. And I requested that I be allowed some time alone with you so that we could finish our discussion from last night. He agreed." His lips twitched into a faint smile. "In so many words."

I could only image what Jacob's exact words had been.

"He's very protective of you," Edward mused. "That's a good thing. If he weren't, I'd be a little more selfish."

The sound of the front door opening drew my attention to the hallway, and I when I turned back, Edward was gone. I shook my head.

Super speedy vampires.

"Bells?"

"In the kitchen, Dad," I called out. I jumped up and walked to the sink to pretend I'd been doing dishes.

He walked in the kitchen, and I could tell from the slight flush of his face that he was flustered. "That, um, lady from Massachusetts is going to be here soon."

I nodded even though I'd nearly forgotten.

"Do you think I should…change or something?"

He'd come home early from the station so he was still wearing his work clothes, a dark uniform complete with the standard cop utility belt. "You look fine. Though the gun might make her a little nervous."

"Right." He took the belt off and hung it on the wall in the hallway. He still looked frazzled.

"Hey, Dad, why don't you go tidy up the living room? We'll probably talk in there."

"Oh, good idea," he mumbled and took off.

As ridiculous as it may have seemed to me, I had to remind myself that this was very important to Charlie. He saw this as an opportunity. My opportunity. I didn't have the heart to tell him that something that sounded too good to be true, probably was too good to be true.

As I stood at the sink, immersed in thoughts about my conversation with Edward, I absently went through the motions of washing, rinsing and drying the dishes. Thinking back, the whole conversation felt so surreal. Hearing Edward, of all people, talk about my boyfriend—who wasn't him—was bizarre. It only further defined the space that had grown between us. And yet, when he'd touched my hand, it was the closest I'd felt to him since he'd left.

I flexed my fingers as the tingled at the memory.

A knock sounded from the front door.

"Got it," Charlie announced, and I saw the deep breath he snuck in before twisting the doorknob.

I picked up a clean dishtowel to dry my hands.

"Hello."

"Hello, I'm Vanessa Dart."

"Ms. Dart"—I could hear Charlie's nod of acknowledgment—"I'm Charlie Swan. We talked on the phone yesterday."

"Yes, of course. It's a pleasure to be able to meet you in person. But, please, call me Vanessa."

"Ah, yes, well, come on in."

Not sure what to do with myself, I stood in limbo at the entrance to the kitchen, running a hand through my messy hair as Charlie stepped back out of the way to let the woman in.

She wasn't what I'd expected. I'd been expecting middle-aged, slightly overweight, foundation-masked, and wearing a phony smile beneath suspiciously neat hair.

I was right about the hair.

But everything else was so far off mark that I was slightly taken aback. Even in her intimidatingly high, black heels, she was only maybe two inches taller I was, but she was so slender that it gave the impression she was towering over me as she approached in her well-tailored charcoal suit.

There was a conservativeness to her movements. She took small, slow steps and moved her head and shoulders with purpose. That undeniable grace coupled with the placidity of her smooth, olive-toned complexion gave her the appearance of a queen. Her cheekbones were high and regal beneath her eyes, which were bright and moved with the same sense of purpose as the rest of her body. She smiled like a patient, benevolent mother. "Hello, Isabella."

I somehow resisted the sudden urge to hug her and extended a hesitant hand instead. "Hi."

She grasped it firmly in her own and leaned in closer. "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you."

I blushed at her sincerity. "Finally?"

"Yes." She straightened and released my hand. "But why don't we get more comfortable before discussing that. I have a lot to say." Her genuine smile let me know that it would be all good things, and I felt guilty for ever being suspicious of her motives.

I led the way to the living room and took seat on the sofa, Vanessa settling elegantly on the opposite end. Charlie, I noted, had outdone himself with the tidying up, and I could actually see the entire expanse of the coffee table for the first time since I'd moved here. I surreptitiously glanced around to see if I could tell where he'd stuck the pile of Sports Illustrated.

Charlie shuffled awkwardly in front of us. "Can I get you something to drink, Vanessa? Water, juice, coffee…"

"Coffee would be lovely, thank you. Black."

"Anything for you, Bells?"

"No. Thanks."

Charlie disappeared, leaving me alone with Vanessa, who watched me silently for several moments before asking, "So, have you given much thought to what you would like to do once you graduate?"

"No, not really," I admitted reluctantly. "I think I want to do something with literature, and I've been accepted at the Peninsula College, but…"

"But it's not the place for you," she finished knowingly. "You were meant for more than that."

I shrugged noncommittally. I didn't even know whether or not I was meant to live past graduation.

"Your father knows that you're meant for more than that. I know that you're meant for more than that. All that's left is for you to realize it's true, Isabella."

Her earnest tone discomforted me. "Actually, I think I'd like to stay close to Forks for school."

Vanessa nodded slowly as if she'd anticipated such a desire. "That's one of the reasons why I think Stregheria will be such a good fit for you. We have a small satellite campus just outside of Olympia."

"Really?" Charlie re-entered the room with a steaming mug in each hand. He placed one down on the table in front of Vanessa and kept the other for himself as he settled on the edge of his armchair.

"Yes," Vanessa smiled, "this coming fall will actually be the first year of classes. We're very excited to be operating on the West Coast after the immense success we experienced in Massachusetts."

What success she was talking about, I had no idea. And I was still confused as to why she was here talking to me in the first place. Was it normal for schools to recruit like this? Charlie seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"From what I've read about the school, it sounds really promising, but I have to ask…"—he took a short draw from the mug—"how was it you came to be so interested in Bella? Did she fill something out, or did one of the school counselors contact you…"

"No, not quite." She refolded her hands on top of her crossed legs. "We rely a lot on our alumni to make suggestions regarding prospective students, whom we strive to stay in touch with after graduation. We consider them family. At Stregheria we have a very intimate approach to learning. We have about 120 graduates every year with a 99.5 percent graduation rate. The average class size is 5. Isabella will be receiving a personal, top-of-the-line education from some of the world's leading minds. Guest-lecturing is something we are very proud advocates of. Last year, former President Jimmy Carter actually came to Salem to speak with the students there."

If Charlie noticed her subtle move to redirect the conversation, he didn't show it. He was relaxed back in his chair, nodding his approval.

"We're a liberal arts school by trade," Vanessa continued, "but our professors are willing to accommodate any academic pursuit our students are passionate about. Guided independent study allows for our faculty to work one-on-one with students to promote a personalized form of education so that his or her full potential is realized." She turned to me with an encouraging smile. "We have a very strong English Department faculty that would be happy to help you find just what it is you hope to garner from higher education."

Just what was I supposed to say to all of that? "Um, that's…"

She sighed and clapped her hands together. "Oh, good. Now, Isabella why don't we begin discussing the reason why I'm really here."

I blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I could go on and on about a school that doesn't exist, or I could get to the point." She nodded towards Charlie. "Now that we're alone."

I followed her gaze to see Charlie sound asleep in the armchair.

I blushed vibrantly. "Oh, sorry. He, uh…must have had a really hard day at work. He's the chief of police. Not that that Forks really gets much in the way of crime," I rambled, mortified that my father had passed out in the middle of a conversation.

"But it does get much in the way of the supernatural, doesn't it? Vampires in particular."

I went very, very still.

She continued on casually. "It's the climate I imagine. The cloud cover coupled with the dense woods does wonders for extending their hunting hours."

I stared at her. She blinked innocently, clearly waiting for some sort of response. Nausea gripped me.

"Vampires?" I croaked, completely butchering my attempt to sound uncomprehending.

"Yes. Like the coven living not far from here."

"I don't…"

"Don't worry, Isabella,"—she leaned forward to touch my knee comfortingly—"I understand what it feels like to keep a secret. Secrets are important."

My eyes went from her small hand on my leg to Charlie, who had started to snore lightly.

"You can speak freely," she reassured me. "He won't wake up."

I shot to my feet. "What do you mean he won't wake up?"

I hurried to Charlie's side and anxiously pressed two fingers to his neck. There was a slow, steady pulse.

"He'll be perfectly fine when he wakes up in an hour."

I scowled at her small, lithe form relaxed on my sofa. "Who are you? What did you do to him?" I demanded. I could feel my heart accelerating in my chest. "Did Victoria send you?"

This woman wasn't a vampire. But maybe—somehow—Victoria had decided that a human would be the best way to get to her, now that the Cullens and the Pack were working tirelessly to keep Forks and La Push secure from vampires. They would never expect Victoria to turn to humans to get the job done.

"The only Victoria I've ever known personally died in 1901. And I wasn't fond enough of Her Highness to grant any favors," she sniffed. "Although, she did spend decades starving millions of helpless people, so the time until our next meeting is not likely indefinite."

My hands clenched into fists at my side. "What do you want? How do you know about…?" The word stuck on the tip of my tongue, refusing to be spoken in the presence of a complete stranger.

"Isabella, vampires are only the beginning. We"—she gestured to herself and then to me—"are their end."

Slowly she stood. The muscles in my legs tensed in anticipation.

But she didn't step closer. She raised her hands to the buttons of her suit jacket and began to smoothly undo them one at a time. "What I want is to help you better understand what has been happening to you these past couple days. I'm sure you have questions. Questions that the vampires cannot answer?"

As she slipped the jacket from her arms, I knew what was coming. Without even seeing it, I know what was there. Something inside me recognized her for what she was.

Vanessa peeling away the sleeveless shirt from her left shoulder was only a confirmation of an undeniable truth.

She was damned just like me.

AN: Thanks for the patience, ladies and gents. School has been...stressful. Midterms are out to destroy my soul. But to make up for the long wait, I promise to have the next chapter posted by Wednesday.

Things are going to get pretty complicated in the next couple of chapters. Stick with it though, and I'll clarify things if you have questions that won't eventually be answered in the story.