Act III

Chapter 38 The Drums

Thanks as always to the lovely and talented NelsonSmandela, and to Algie for the music. Also, shout out to Feisty, in more ways than one.

I loved all of your reviews and am still working on replying to them all. It took me a while to change gears to vampbella, and I appreciate your patience and enthusiasm more than I can say.

Chapter Music

Gorecki, "Lento e Largo"

www (DOT)youtube(DOT)c om/watch?v =YWUN-UE8e HM

The Knife, "Marble House"

www(Dot)youtube(Dot)com/watch?v=-WhQ5TiBHVk

Hillary Hahn plays Paganini's "Caprice No. 24"

www(DOT)youtube(DOT)com/watch?v=Lh3D_ujMjtM

Arcade Fire, "Ready to Start"

www(DOT)youtube(DOT)com/watch?v=3-0WxQzIXTs

Disclaimers: 1) Stephenie Meyer owns twilight. 2) I'm a vegetarian in RL, but you wouldn't know it by reading this chapter.

~oЖo~

Calling it pain would be like comparing a hurricane to a gentle rain with a cool breeze. This feels more like I've been fed to a volcano, like my blood has been replaced by some tidal fire sweeping through my veins. It's not like I feel pain; it's more like I get lost, and the pain becomes me.

I lose everything to it.

The burning never stops. It is everything, no room for anything else but agonizing sensation. There is no escape, no music, no love, no Charlie, no Renee, no Alice, no Edward.

Not even Bella. I'm like an animal, unable to focus on anything but this pain.

Then, there are no words at all.

~oЖo~

Just as words begin to return, I'm aware of a touch. At first, I only notice it because it's gone, and everything is so much worse. But then the touch comes back, and there's music, too. It's loud, but it's good.

Everything else is hell.

No, I take that back, not everything. There's a drum, too. It's beating far too loud and fast for the music, and I want it to stop, but by now I can't even move or scream. The drum gets louder and faster, until I think I'm going to lose my mind. The drumbeat roars in my ears, and his touch is more, and I think I hear him crying.

The fire recedes as the drumbeat gets louder, and I want it, even though it's all around me, growing louder as the pain gets smaller, and words flood back into my mind like tiny little ants at hyper-speed.

The pain dwindles, smaller but infinitely more fierce, until it sharpens into a diamond point, chasing every fugitive drop of human blood through veins and arteries. Everything swirls around the rhythm of the beat, except for the pain in my throat, which is not as bad, but consistent. The rhythm gets faster, and the beat gets louder, and it feels like the diamond point of concentrated pain chases the drum until the two become the same thing.

With one final thump, the chase ends, and all that remains is the burning column of air where the music should be.

The air is hot and sultry, but at least it's not fire. It smells, though. All kinds of smells— wood, bleach, decay, and growth. It's not so much an issue of the odors being good or bad, but simply a matter of overwhelming intensity, so I hold my breath. It helps ease the burning, too.

Someone speaks, a muffled sort of booming. The voice is familiar, but different. It's not in the room, but it's loud as hell.

"She's waking up ... Just give her a minute. I'll go get Jasper."

Sounds of crashing, stomping feet, and a door slamming. It's incredibly annoying.

"Bella?" I'm supposed to know this word, this voice, this person yelling at me.

I'm Bella. Yes, I remember that.

After a second.

I open my eyes, and darkness explodes into a riot of color. Again it's just too much, so I close my eyes again.

"Someone close the curtains; she's not used to the light yet."

"Bella?" Still yelling, but it's smoother, and this voice is just right.

But then someone touches me, and I have two very strong, completely conflicting reactions.

Some wild new part of me, outraged that anyone dares to touch me, snarls without my conscious permission. The rest of me recognizes the touch, needs it. This is the touch that got me through hell.

I open my eyes again, and he's there. He looks worried and maybe hopeful, with his hand hovering over me now, not actually making contact. I stare at his hand, then his face, and back again, and the growling stops.

I stop growling, I mean.

Looking at him with human eyes and seeing him now is like the difference between hearing an opera on an old tinny record player and seeing it live from the front row. Or like someone famous said, the difference between a lightning bug and actual lightning. His face, however familiar, seems infinitely more perfect now in bone structure, each ridge and hollow a miracle of human architecture. His hair seems more lush, richer in color, his eyes even more soulful than before. I reach for him, remembering his name.

"Edward?" I ask, and immediately cover my ears. I'm even louder than they are. "Why is everything so loud?"

"It's okay," he says in what I now realize is a whisper. "You're okay."

"It takes a while to get used to it," another one says. I recognize that voice, too.

I turn my head, and I'm up on my feet, too fast, my back against the wall, my instincts overcharged. I know and love these people, but it's all too intense. It feels like the volume on all my senses just got turned up all of a sudden.

"This is so weird," I panic. "I want to hug you and run away at the same time."

"You're doing great," Esme says soothingly. "We all understand how you feel. We remember."

Edward approaches me slowly, his hand out and his eyes encouraging.

I want to take his hand, but I can't, and it's so frustrating I could scream.

"You can touch me," I whisper against the hurt in his eyes, ashamed of myself.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and wait for it.

And wait. And wait.

I open one eye, and he's barely closer. At this rate, it'll never happen.

"Come on," I urge, exasperated.

He waits until I step forward just a little, and then he sort of swirls around me, or at least it feels that way. One of his arms curls around my back and he takes my hand in his, kissing my cheek softly as we walk toward our family. Part of me still wants to bolt, but I'm holding it in better now. After a moment, I'm able to focus on his touch, and how it's different now.

Or rather, how different I am, because that's the real problem. I have very little context for anything, it seems.

His touch, his skin—it's like everything else. It's familiar in form, but the content has changed significantly. My mind struggles to find a comparison in my dim human memories, and I think of full-color photos as opposed to say, black and white, or maybe even rough drawings. His skin, once chilly and so much more solid than mine, feels not only warmer, as I had once expected, but just more, somehow. It's like I can feel every pore, every tiny diamond shape nature saw fit to etch into his hand on the cellular level. My mind automatically counts the individual hair follicles at this wondrous point of contact, my brain carving this detail and other vast amounts of information from my overloaded senses in a new, complex method of thought.

"Okay?" he asks, as a sound from outside disrupts my concentration, and I start.

"What's that drumming?" I ask, grasping at my throat.

"Jasper's bringing you something," Carlisle informs me.

I could seriously kill someone to get to this rhythm, so that's good news. I try to control myself, but that thumping is too compelling.

"It's so beautiful. I want it."

"I know, Bella," Edward seems to know what I mean, even if I don't. "Come on, it's just outside."

The drum gets louder. It's hypnotic, sensual. And my mouth starts watering.

"I want it," I repeat, as we move closer, floorboards creaking underfoot. "I need to taste it. God, can you taste music as a vampire?"

He laughs—a low, dark sound. I want to taste that, too.

I feel the drumming echoing in my bones, and everything disappears except this new, frantic thing that is also me, and the horrible, burning thirst that came with it. My vision blurs, and I'm on it, tasting it, sinking my teeth in, the liquid heat of it coating my burning throat so sweetly.

The beat stays strong at first, even speeding up, but then it starts to fade, all too soon. As the drum slows and my frenzy calms, the words collide in my mind, and things start to make sense.

Of course, they were heartbeats. This particular drum in my arms is really a deer, or rather a buck I guess, from the look of the horns. Its eyes are flat and glassy, and something about that unsettles me, but not in the way I think it should. I'm more curious than apologetic.

"I know, it doesn't taste all that good," Jasper apologizes. "Sorry, I wanted to get you something a little tastier, but those things are harder to bring back alive."

I shake my head.

"It's not that," I try to explain. "I feel like I should be upset that I killed it. Or at least feel sad about the eyes. I think the human me would have felt guilty, but I don't. Does that make sense?"

"You're not human anymore," Carlisle offers gently. "It's normal to feel disoriented about the changes to your nature."

Jasper frowns, and for some reason it makes me growl in irritation. Like I'm going to hit him or something. I do kind of want to hit something. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"I'm only getting a fraction of your emotions," he explains, to my irritation. I don't want him knowing anything I feel.

"Probably just the echo of them pumping through the endocrine system," Carlisle explains. "Most of the emotions are processed directly in the brain."

There's a gentle tug in my mind from a murky human memory, and I pull it out with some effort.

"Just like Alec," I say softly, catching Alice's curious glance. "But you saw that, right?"

"All I saw was you telling everyone that Alec made your body numb," she corrects.

"And you told me not to," I recall, with effort. "What would have happened if I had told the truth?"

Alice grimaces and Edward curses at the same time. They start talking among themselves, but I'm too thirsty, cranky, and distracted to pay attention to stuff that never even happened.

"Oh, my," I breathe, looking at the darkening sky. Mesmerized, I wander off the porch, far enough to get a better view. "Look at the stars! It's like I've got binoculars on, only better! I mean, everything is totally small, like on a normal scale, but I can see everything in so much detail."

"Just wait till you see the Aurora Borealis," Jasper says. "There are colors you've never seen before, kid."

I believe it.

"So, where are we?" I ask, spinning slowly. "And how is it that I can see everything? The sky is so dark, but I can see the tiniest leaves and pine needles on those trees over there."

"We're in the Yukon, Canada." Edward shadows me warily, which is annoying until I look at him again.

Because, damn.

Lust curls inside me like a hot fist, and the flames in my throat might have some serious competition for my attention. The look of concern shifts into a sly, sexy smirk, and it's all I can do not to jump him, witnesses be damned.

"Okay, I felt that," Jasper laughs, and I feel utterly mortified.

"Jasper," Alice whispers, this time actually whispering. I can barely hear it.

Usually I'd blush about now, and it's weird, because instead of heat I feel something happening, but like everything else it's different in nature. It feels just as involuntary and subtle as a blush, but not like heat.

"Huh, that's weird," he continues. "The little I did feel is gone now, but her expression says it should still be there."

"Good," I mutter, and relax.

"Nope, now it's back again," he observes curiously.

And I'm growling again. Damn, this is really embarrassing, not to mention confusing. I feel like I'm a volatile substance, like I could explode any minute. And I absolutely hate being treated like that is true.

"I'm still kind of thirsty," I say, changing the subject. "Is there more?"

They're all watching me, and I can't stand it. I edge away from them as they speculate about my shield, and the feral thing in me gets distracted again. My head whips back to the sparse woods beyond our clearing, and I listen closely to the rhythm. All those drums. Just calling to me.

Venom pools in my mouth again, and I stare into the darkness, my sharp eyes picking up movement of long, spindly legs, fur and a horn. One of the drums gets faster, and my eyes seek out any movement in the direction of the noise.

Experimentally I inhale through my nose, and the flame returns, along with some tantalizing scents. Green things that smell good, but not like food. Like blood. But I do smell that, too, and I need to chase it.

The air changes, and scent flows with it. It's fear, and it smells delicious. I crouch reflexively, waiting for something to happen. The animal bolts, and something inside me makes me need to chase.

"More," I hiss.

My body takes over, legs stretching out in front of me, the air parting in a refreshing, almost liquid manner. It's cooler than the air inside, and the dirt feels like softest powder under my bare feet.

"I'm pretty sure it's safe," Alice confirms, her voice dwindling with each step I take. "No humans in that direction."

"Stay with her, Edward," I hear Carlisle calling. "We'll catch up."

If you can, the new part of me says, pumping my legs so fast that the deep dark green of the woods begins to streak past me in bewildering detail.

The familiar part of me just laughs, delighted in this new speed and strength.

~oЖo~

"You shouldn't have to do that for me," I frown, as Edward buries the giant caribou I just drained.

Watching him carefully, I start clawing at the ground in imitation, amazed at how easily the rocks and dirt break apart under my slightest touch. It's almost a game to see how fast I can go, but Edward does it faster. He gets three carcasses in the ground by the time I've finished one.

"There are enough for both of us to have plenty of work to do," he smiles at me. "Besides, I like showing you these things."

The warmth in his tone captures my attention, and once again I feel overwhelmed with the intensity of my response. I stare at him for a moment, hopelessly pulled in by the adoration in his eyes, the erotic curve of his lips, his smile, his—

I launch myself at him, ignoring his muffled "oof" of surprise.

"You're so delicious," I pant, licking the side of his neck after our teeth collide too many times for comfort. "I can't take it."

"Gentle," he grunts, and when I pull away I can see tiny fissures in his perfect lips.

"No!" I cry, finding myself against a tree several yards away. "Oh, Edward, what did I do?"

I hear the soft perforated ripping of cloth fibers separating, and look down to find animal blood on my hands and all over my torn clothes.

I'm a violent, disgusting mess and I just hurt the man I love.

He stands, and dusts himself off with his hands, moving in a way that makes me think he's in a lot of pain, but hiding it. Guilt overwhelms me, and I curl into myself, trying to hide.

"Hey, I'm fine, see?" he says gently, taking my face in his hands. "It's not permanent."

The little cracks have already healed, but the memory of them remains solidly in my mind. I'll never be able to forget it, either.

"I can't believe I hurt you, Edward," I repeat, horrified. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing that wasn't wrong with any of us at first, Bella," Carlisle says, stepping out of the trees, Esme following not far behind him. "There's a reason you're called a 'newborn.' It gets messy."

"I didn't think it would be this bad," I admit, looking down at my ruined clothes. "Everything from before feels so vague compared to now that it's almost like I can't remember anything, and I feel so... so..."

The rest of my vampire family filters into the clearing, casting me sympathetic looks.

"Sharp?" Emmett asks. "High definition?"

"Disorienting?" Rosalie adds. "Annoying?"

"Weird?" Jasper grins. "You feel like you're on a different planet?"

"Or from a different planet," Esme smiles.

"But kind of good," Alice says from several feet up, sitting cross-legged on the branch of a raggedy-looking fir, like some transcendental yogi. "Because you're strong, all your senses are so improved, and you feel invincible!"

"And that's really weird, too," Edward says soothingly.

It's slightly annoying that they're all so knowing,but it's comforting, too. If they all came out of it okay, I probably will, too.

"Yeah, all that," I agree, looking at my hands, all red and gory from where I must have gripped the animals too hard. "Unrelentingly so. And it's really weird to want to drink blood. I used to get woozy just looking at it. Now all of a sudden I see blood and think 'yummy.' I don't quite know who that person is."

I fight the urge to lick the blood off my fingers, and it reminds me of what I did to Edward. Remorse washes over me again, but he fills my vision and gently tilts my face up to his, like I'm still fragile and not the monster who hurt him.

"This overwhelming part doesn't last very long," he murmurs, smoothing my hair away from my face. "I promise. Come on, let's get you home, and you can read your journals."

~oЖo~

"What is this?" I complain, looking at the brand new blank book in front of me. "I thought I was going to get to read."

"This is just for practice," Alice informs me. "Go ahead, turn a page."

The new crazy part of me really, really wants to throw the book at her. I think she knows it, too, but she just grins at me.

"Whatever," I scowl, and with a theatrical sigh, do as I'm told. Unfortunately, when I try the simple motion, the slightest tug rips the page right out. "What the hell? I can't even do this?"

"Just keep practicing," she smiles encouragingly. "It took me a few months to be able to play the violin without crushing it, but books are much easier. I'd ask if you want me to read to you, in the meantime, but I know you'd prefer to wait."

She's right, but I don't want her to go, either.

"Umm, maybe you could just play something for me?" I ask apologetically. "If you want to. You don't have to; it would just be nice to hear you play again."

She smiles and disappears for a moment, returning with a truly gorgeous violin. I space out for a second, staring at the rich reddish shades of the instrument's veneer before I remember that there's a task at hand. I rip a half-dozen more pages while she rosins up her bow.

"Try doing it a little more slowly."

She politely ignores my involuntary growl of annoyance, which I deeply appreciate.

"Why does everything piss me off?" I ask. "I don't remember being this impatient and bitchy as a human."

"Please," she laughs. "You're fine. Just think of it as the worst PMS you've ever had. I'm not offended, Bella. I'm just glad you're here."

She begins to play a sprightly, clever melody I feel like I heard once in a dream. Her fingers fly effortlessly as her beautiful face relaxes in a blissful half-smile. I stare, marveling at how much she seems to have improved. I vaguely recall her being incredibly good before, but this is a new level. The sound coming from the strings is both clear and rich, a seemingly impossible combination of sound.

"You're amazing," I breathe in admiration. "Is it my new hearing or your playing or both?"

"This violin is pretty kickass, too," she grins.

"It isn't what I think it is, is it?" I ask. "I mean, there are a lot of expensive things around here, but we can't possibly afford-"

"A Stradivarius?" she asks, with just a tinge of pride. "Why not? I've always wanted to play one. And now I know what everyone was talking about. It's like every other instrument I've played was just for practice. This is the best instrument by far, the real deal."

She nods at the book, a gentle reminder of the task at hand. I turn my focus back to the page, letting the music soothe me. I rip though another five pages before finally leaving a page battered, but intact.

"Nicely done!" She says as I turn the next two pages without incident. "I think you're ready for the real thing now."

Fortunately I don't have to relearn how to read. Far from it, I find the mechanics of manipulating the pages much more difficult than taking in my own handwriting, and pretty soon I've gotten used to that, too. Reading everything I've written brings an odd, literary sharpness to the soft memories they evoke, and I know without being told that the words are in my mind forever now, even if the original memories aren't quite as solid.

Once I've read my own two journals, which takes only an hour, Alice shows me a video clip from our summer concerts online.

"You know," I observe, wincing, "I've always heard that having perfect pitch is more of a curse than a blessing. Is all singing this imprecise in tone or is this your special way of telling me I suck?"

"It's actually pretty good. It just takes some getting used to. Try to think of the flaws as texture, like wood grain. You wouldn't expect wood to be as smooth as steel, right?" she explains, pausing and clicking over to a video of Renee Fleming I recall seeing before and enjoying. I relax a little, because the inconsistencies are in that video, too, although mine wasn't as good. "The human voice is better in person than in a recording. Richer. Here, try this one."

"Oh man, Jessye Norman," I sigh with pleasure.

I click and click for several videos and find my expectations changing.

"I think I'm getting used to it now. Should I try singing?"

"Only if you want to," she says cautiously. "I honestly don't know what's going to happen."

I take a deep breath, and nearly double over from the blistering pain in my throat.

"Thirsty?" She asks, and I nod. "Let's try it again after a few hunting trips, okay?"

My mouth starts watering again just thinking about it.

"The others are already out there, scoping for humans," she explains, typing out a text message on her cell. "I'll let them know we're headed out."

I touch her sleeve carefully, and she looks at me with patient expectation.

"Alice?" I ask, thinking about some of what I'd read in my journals, along with my memories of what happened the night we left Volterra. "Did you know it was going to be Marcus all along?"

"No, not all along," she admits. "He was just the best of all possible choices, based on the consequences involved if one of us decided to change you."

"You encouraged me to be friends with him so early on," I prod. "I probably wouldn't have tried on my own. I would have been too intimidated."

"It was mostly Eleazar's idea," she says, taking my hands in hers. "Before we considered Marcus as a possibility, I saw your change so many times, and it never ended well because of who did it in the vision. The changer kept switching back and forth from Aro, to Edward, and sometimes even Demetri."

"You're kidding," I say, shocked. "I can't even imagine what would have happened if it had been Demetri. And I'm really glad it wasn't Aro. I mean, I don't hate him or anything, but he's really scary. I can only imagine how he would have manipulated that scenario. It would have been horrible for Edward."

"Don't try to imagine—it's really bad," she sighs. "Usually in my visions, either Aro found out about us or Edward ended up being executed. There were only two vampires powerful enough to defy Aro's wishes and get away with it, and only one I'd want anywhere near you."

For the first time since waking up I feel something besides thirst, lust, or rage. I feel incredibly grateful, but don't know what to do.

"Alice?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd hug you, but I'm afraid of hurting you."

She smiles and puts her arms around me with a fierce squeeze.

"Don't mention it," she whispers. "We're family."

~oЖo~

The sun rises and sets twice, and I don't even think about stopping. When I'm running, and killing, it's the only time I don't feel that everything is too much to handle. Part of me keeps expecting to get tired, and I do everything I can to exhaust myself, but nothing works. It's almost frustrating to not have to rest, ever. I do have to change clothes, though, and find sometimes that I can't drink any more, in spite of the burning thirst.

I finally get to watch Edward hunt, and it takes my breath away. Where I am all brute force and bad table manners, he is swift cunning and refinement. I practice on the grassy-tasting Stone Sheep whose struggles barely register under my embrace, but the poor things just get messy anyway. I feel like a toddler holding my spoon carefully when all I really want to do is throw it.

Yes, drinking is disgusting on so many levels (particularly when I enjoy it a little too much), but running turns out to be pure joy for the first time in my life. Edward and I are in the middle of a full-on foot race when I catch a tantalizing aroma in a tickle of breeze. He smells it too.

"Cat?" I ask, furrowing my brow. Usually my first guess is more or less correct.

We come to a stop, listening to the scampering noises of quiet alarm around us.

"Yes, a lynx, to be specific," he replies, taking a leaf from my hair. "Want to try? They're clever."

"Can I watch you?" My voice comes out lower, more sultry than I meant it to.

His lips curl slightly as he gives me a sideways glance, and angles his head in the direction of the breeze. "Come on."

He's off in a flash, and I have to use all of my newborn strength to even keep him in my sight.

The scent grows stronger, and I watch, fascinated as he slows to a crouching, interminably slow pace. My nostrils flare, and the blood smells different, almost spicy in comparison to the usual fare. Following his gaze, I find the animal with its little white ruff and adorable house-cat face. It's bigger than a house cat, but nowhere as intimidating as a tiger or lion.

"Aww!" I say under my breath, and try not to laugh when makes this really weird hiss at me.

"You're so mean," Edward laughs softly, his body still prepared for attack. "You're wounding its pride."

"But it's so cute." That's old Bella talking, obviously. The new me has an opinion, too. "Smells really tasty, too."

"Watch." He speaks in such a swift hushed whisper I barely hear it. "Sometimes I like to trick them into attacking me. Cats sometimes can't believe they're not the baddest beasts in the woods."

He waits, utterly still until the lynx's short tail twitches in anticipation, right before it pounces. Edward catches it easily, holding it under the neck as its claws windmill, sliding harmlessly along his smooth skin. He sinks his teeth in, and watches me curiously. One thick eyebrow shoots up in what I hope is invitation, and I join him, feeding at the same time. Our eyes lock in appreciation, and an odd notion strikes me.

"Something amusing?" he asks, as we finish burying it under a birch tree.

"We've never shared a meal before," I smile, almost shyly. "In two years, two months of it married, and we just had our first dinner date. A little out of order, but nice."

When I look up, he's watching me, his expression careful and speculative. It reminds me of how he was watching the lynx, which reminds me of what I did to him before. I turn my face, trying to hide my shame as I gather leaves to cover the loose dirt. His footsteps crunch as he approaches, slowly.

"I like that idea," he says softly, reaching down to run his hands through my hair.

He caresses my neck, and the shiver that runs through me makes my head tip back against the tree. I cover my face with my hands as the trunk cracks and the branch I'm leaning against breaks off completely.

"I'm a mess," I moan. "I have no control over myself."

"Not for long," he smiles. "Do you think you can just hold still for a second? I want to kiss you now."

I look up, surprised.

"You don't think I'd want to?" he presses, his eyes glowing. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Bella."

I grip the trunk behind me, and stay very still as he leans in, covering my mouth with his almost—but not quite—chastely before pulling away.

"See?" he observes. "Only the tree got hurt this time."

"It's still embarrassing," I say, brushing a messy mixture of wood crumbles and pulp from my freshly unclenched hands. "I have a new respect for how careful you've always been with me."

"You always give me too much credit," he counters dolefully. "I recall some rather unfortunate bruising when we first started."

"Nothing significant," I argue, quick to defend him. "Nothing permanent. And you got the hang of it pretty fast, if I recall correctly."

"And so will you," he says, tipping my chin up with one elegant finger. "My point exactly. So cut yourself some slack, okay? For my sake? Otherwise I'm going to feel really guilty for being glad you're a vampire."

"Not that!" I throw up my hands in surrender. "You know the only way I know how to deal with your sulking is shameless seduction."

"And here I thought I was just irresistible," he mock-pouts.

"You are that," I say seriously, standing on tiptoes to kiss him gently on the cheek. "So don't do that until I can safely give in."

~oЖo~

We run all over the Yukon and sometimes the Northwest Territory, hunting bear and more lynx if we can find them, and always the less appetizing, but more plentiful, deer and caribou. I don't want to think about how much blood I drink, but it seems pretty excessive. It's not so much that I'm that thirsty, but that the blood soothes the flames in my throat, and calms me down considerably.

Something has to.

Three days after I wake up, we're all out hunting when Alice says she has an announcement to make. We converge in an abandoned quarry, where I busy myself crushing rocks in one hand in a friendly bet with Emmett until everyone else arrives. I'm ahead by four.

"Because you only got one," I elbow him, though I have to angle up to hit his ribs. "Weak old vampire."

"Yes, you are a terrifying bruiser," he mutters, rubbing his side. "Truly a force to be reckoned with."

"That's right," I say, showing off with another rock. It's almost as addictive as popping bubble wrap.

Esme and Carlisle arrive, and Alice stands up.

"Some hunters have decided to camp about half a mile from the house," she tells us. "They'll be here in a few hours. I don't know how long they're going to stay, but we really need to keep Bella inside until they're gone."

Everyone circles around me and we run back to the house in silence, stopping along the way to feed one last time. Images of drinking from people flash through my mind, and I feel both repulsed and afraid, because I have no idea how I'm going to react. They seem to, however, and it feels like I've already been condemned, even though three of the seven vampires have never consumed human blood. I'm obviously four out of eight who have never tasted it, but I don't really count yet, having never been tested.

I look at my prison, which is nice, as far as these things go. It's a big house and all, but I start to feel like a total criminal. They've even got insulation on all the doors and windows so I don't accidentally smell anything and go crazy.

First, Edward distracts me by giving me his diaries to read again. They all seem somewhat familiar, but I like it that every word now burns into my brain. He plays Debussy and Chopin while I devour his life without me, making it nearly as much a part of my memory as his own.

Soon, I finish Edward's words and turn to Carlisle's study, reading books on local flora and fauna. It's enormously satisfying, applying the correct names of trees and rodents to images in my perfect memory. I read the dictionary cover to cover, simultaneously memorizing two Verdi operas.

As perfect and magical as my improved brain functions seem to be, it's not without cost. I find myself snarling at everyone with increasing frequency as more hours pass. After my first day in confinement, everyone takes turns escaping my wrathful presence, except for Edward and Carlisle.

"You are freaking me out, baby girl," Jasper tells me, narrowing his eyes at me. "Let me help."

I feel some emotional dissonance as my head and the rest of my body seem to be at odds emotionally, and I growl at him again. I try to force the near-blush that seemed to stop him from sensing my lust earlier, but it doesn't work this time, and I just get frustrated and even more angry.

"She doesn't like it," Edward warns, hovering over me. I don't like that much either.

"Right," Jasper says, obviously interpreting my death glare correctly. "But she's much thirstier than she's letting on, and it's driving me a little nuts. Maybe we can spook the hunters into leaving—anyone else want in?"

"Me!" Rose yells, jumping up. "You coming, Bear?"

"Hell yeah," Emmet says, following. "I need to hunt."

I throw a pillow at him.

"What, I'm thirsty!" he laughs. "Be nice, and I'll get something for you, too."

Carlisle gives me his own diaries, which I find more distracting than any other books besides Edward's journals. His writing style comes from a bygone era, both somber and compelling in word choice and rich in detail. The tone is partly confessional and partly clinical in nature, and it makes for fascinating reading. I particularly enjoy his years in Volterra, noting in particular Carlisle's growing discomfort with Aro's impetuous nature. His descriptions add another dimension to my human memories of the same vampires and places, his observations far more insightful than I would have imagined from his discreet words.

I feel for Carlisle as I read of his lonely wanderings. I admire him as he takes up medicine, and how the care of others both soothes him and sparks a deeper need for companionship that eventually became too intense for him to ignore. I read all of his patient notes, including his initial notes about the girl with the broken leg who would eventually become his wife. I read with rapt attention as he mentions Edward's mother, and how she begged him to save her son.

I have to admit, it was a flimsy excuse for an isolated vampire in his position to make his own companion, but I feel incredibly grateful that he went with it.

Of course, I love reading about Edward's first months. He was as violent and confused as any immature young man dreaming about war would be once infused with venom, and it showed. It took both of them some time to get used to Edward's talents, but eventually they truly bonded. Esme's arrival was fine, mostly, but indirectly prompted Edward's killing spree against the kind of man who had driven his new mother to attempt suicide in the first place.

Reading Carlisle's perspective of Edward's vigilante period proves to be both heartbreaking and enlightening. For all of Edward's shame of drinking human blood, Carlisle was proud of the lives that Edward had indirectly saved through the killing of killers. His joy in Edward's return was enough to make me so emotional that I wanted to hug both of them.

Just when I think I can't take it any more and the thirst is going to make me insane, Jasper, Rose, and Emmett come back.

"Keep it outside," Esme says to Emmett when he tries to come through the front door holding a mountain goat.

"It's safe, you can come out now," Emmet yells, grinning. "Were you good? I brought you a present if you were."

"Thank you," I sigh gratefully. "So thirsty."

"See? I told you," he tells Rosalie. "That was too long for a little newborn to go without."

I snort at his calling me little when I can obviously kick his ass, and dig my teeth in, relieved beyond expectation.

As I drink, the air changes direction, and I catch the faintest hint of something far more delicious than goat. I avert my eyes, trying to ignore Jasper's suspicious glance. Edward's head snaps to Jasper, then to me. So much for playing it cool. Another, stronger breeze comes from the same direction, and now they're all looking at me. Now I know why they kept me inside.

"Let's get you back inside," Carlisle says, his hand firmly on my back.

I notice that the others are positioned so that if I try to run, I'll have plenty of interference. The new, terrifying part of me would like to try to get to the humans anyway. Why would anyone deny themselves something so divine? I think of Charlie and Renee, and everyone else I'd like to protect. I let them guide me into the house, but only after my swift mental calculation tells me that I can't take them all.

But the scent of human blood is a bell that can't be unrung. Now I know what all the fuss is about.

~oЖo~

The earth keeps spinning into infinity, but my natural rhythms no longer match the cycle of sun and moon. I have to get used to everything, including everything about myself that's alien. The first time I see myself in the mirror, about a week after I wake up, I don't even recognize myself. I've taken some ridiculous measures to avoid this moment, and someone decides to take matters into her own hands.

"That ... is alarming," I cringe, while Rosalie holds a mirror up to my face.

I keep looking back and forth, from her perfection to my disturbing reflection. I look around, at Alice, who is more in the Internet than in the living room with the rest of us, and Esme, who seems to be doing something artistic with shiny strips of fabric. Everything they have in common physically, I now do, too. It helps, but only slightly.

"The eyes?"

"Well, the eyes are freaky on their own, yeah," I concede. "But that just looks like trauma. That I can deal with."

"I was really freaked out by my eyes at first," she remembers. "But to tell you the truth I really loved everything else. I was pretty vain as a human. Getting prettier was the only thing that kept me from ripping Edward's head off in those first months."

I gape at her in shock, but I hear Edward snort from the garage.

"See? Always listening in. You only know the best version of Edward, believe me," she clarifies. "But back then, he was an arrogant, know-it-all ass. Can you imagine feeling like this, and knowing that someone could read your every thought?"

"No, no way," I respond vehemently, getting it. "That ... would really piss me off."

"Yeah, it took me a while to get past that," she admits, reaching out to touch a shiny lock of my dark hair. "So if it's not the eyes, what is it? You're really very beautiful, you know."

"I'm still not as beautiful as you," I say, to her obvious satisfaction. "But it's just weird. I only just barely look like me. I look like some air-brushed, Hollywood version of myself. How am I going to explain this, that is, if Aro is still willing to go along with the plan?"

"Oh, he'll go along with it," Alice says, looking up from the glow of her laptop. "It was his idea to begin with, and the only thing he can do to save face right now is pretend that everything is fine."

"After they stage the accident, you'll be in a spa recovering for several months, officially," Esme informs me. "We were able to buy out a health and beauty spa on an island, not far from Brazil. We got really lucky with the timing. It was known to be a semi-private facility where celebrities went to recover from plastic surgery. People will assume that you've had work done."

"When will they stage the accident?"

"Whenever Aro decides," Alice says. "He hasn't made up his mind yet, but I think he's going to go for maximum publicity."

"I'm not famous enough for maximum publicity."

"No, but you just came off a successful tour and have your operatic debut lined up in a few months," she points out. "Add in the newlywed factor, a viral video or two, and a well-timed accident could get you a lot of attention in Europe right now."

"Will my parents have to know?" I ask quietly. "Renee's going to be sick with worry."

"Everyone will know about the accident," Rosalie says flatly. "You know, you're really lucky. Most human families of vampires don't get any news at all. They worry, make missing persons reports, assume you're dead, and hope it isn't the case."

"I'm sorry," I say softly.

"Not your fault," she replies, her mouth rigid. "The circumstances were entirely different."

She gives a hard look to Alice, who looks anxiously at the door frame, where Edward appears seconds later.

"Before you say anything," she says, holding up one small hand. "We did what we had to do to keep anyone from asking questions. Aro told Eleazar to 'clean up his mess' so that none of it would come back to you or the visit, and that's what we did. It's all very plausible."

"You do know that Aro's got Demetri looking for Jasper, don't you?" he says angrily. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Tell you what?" I ask, standing up.

Neither one of them look at me. I'm pretty sure Alice is telling Edward something.

"Tell you what?" I repeat, getting pissed off. "I know that between your talents you two can talk to each other without saying anything, but you're not even trying to hide it!"

"Alice and Jasper took emergency medical leave from the University," Rosalie says disapprovingly. "They're not officially missing."

"Jasper was so close to getting his doctorate," Alice explains. "I thought it would be a shame to burn that bridge. My father, well, let's just say he hasn't even noticed that I ever went to college. I didn't think it would do any harm to send my half-sister a birthday card, and so far it hasn't."

"And my mom is kind of intense about me," Jasper says, standing behind her. "We thought it would be okay to change the next-of-kin information to deceased on all my files. I hired an identity expert to make things as thorough as possible."

"You hired a forger," Rosalie argues. "And it may very well bite us all in the ass."

"We need a good forger," Jasper says helplessly in what is obviously a recurring argument. "And besides, I thought you felt sorry for my mom."

"Yeah, but you're going to get her killed," Rosalie snaps. "I wasn't allowed to comfort my mother, and Aro didn't even know I existed back then. What do you think is going to happen to her?"

"We've got a contingency plan," Alice says quietly. "If it comes down to it, we'll handle it. Otherwise it's just needlessly cruel."

"What's done is done," Carlisle interjects, appearing from the direction of his study. "Alice and Jasper already lived away from home when they were changed, but everyone you knew lived in Rochester. If there had been any way to spare your parents the pain of your loss, you know I would have agreed to it."

"I think Alice has more than earned some leeway on this matter," Esme says, but Edward just keeps staring at Alice.

"The coast is clear," Alice insists. "Demetri's the only one looking for us, and so far, he thinks Jasper's parents are both dead. I don't see that changing."

"We've got a lot of resources they don't know about," says Jasper. "And we've got time."

"We're going to need it," Edward says, looking at me anxiously. "Bella isn't ready for training yet."

"Yes I am," I argue, crossing over to him. "I've been waiting a long time to be more of a strength than a weakness. I don't want to wait anymore. I want to start working on my shield."

"Be reasonable, Bella," he says. "We just got out of Volterra. Don't you want some downtime to relax and get used to all this?"

"I'll never be stronger than I am right now," I continue. "Besides, I'll be able to relax once I find a way to protect you and everyone else here from Jane. I don't remember much from that night, but I remember what she did to you."

"Do I detect a thirst for vengeance?" Rosalie smiles darkly, catching an arch look from the good doctor. "What, Carlisle? I approve of her priorities and so should you. You've always told us what a little thug that girl is. If they send anyone for us it'll be her first."

"Your reasoning leaves something to be desired," Carlisle says uncomfortably. "But you may have a point."

"But Carlisle," Edward objects, only to be interrupted.

"It can't hurt to have an evaluation, and now that Bella's been changed, there's a good way to do that before we even begin talking about training."

"Fine," Edward agrees reluctantly. "But I'm not happy about it."

I thread my fingers through his carefully, and he wraps his arms around me protectively.

"Good then," Carlisle says "I'll call Eleazar."

~oЖo~

A/N: "The difference between the right word and the almost right word ... is like the difference between lightning and a lightning bug" - Mark Twain. One of my favorite quotes ever.