On the way home I tried to gather more information from Carmen's complicated use of vocabulary. The fact that what she believed only happened in a B movie mistake for a storyline was beyond comparison to logic.

I couldn't get my head around the whole failure of diminished evil and her attempt to preach me into a bible reading. It gave no reason to console me, when I wasn't sure what and who I believed in in the first place.

I wasn't the type to absorb everything I read. I never followed the latest political trend or complied without question. It had to be seen to be believed in my opinion, and all I could see was a woman who was becoming too erratic to realise she was relying on her prayer book and a priest too young to have all the answers to her problems.

A person posing as a saint without an actual glowing halo wasn't exactly my idea of a convincing alternative to a great God. He was just a creation of minds, put together by public choice. Besides, weren't Ministers supposed to radiate love and warmth? Maybe I wasn't receptive, but I felt none of those attributes from big, brash Sinclair.

He was too rough around the edges. Wisdom had yet to catch up with his recent entry into puberty to be considered into a life of priesthood. Yet there he was, overbearing and slightly irritating,with a sly, slick voice that was condescending, as well as predominantly rehearsed to fool you. Whatever his title of worship, I was going to keep myself wary until I was convinced of his honourable position.

As we strolled back to the Manor, I chose to ask Carmen more about my mother. I wanted to know everything, her favourite color, drink, restaurant, where she travelled to and if she ever learned to swim or ride a bike. I wanted to know about her first kiss. If anyone would have been be able to tell me more of these small details it would be Carmen. They were close friends, practically sisters, which was why my time with Carmen was always anxious and waiting impatiently to ask more. Whatever it was, it was needed to complete me, allow me to feel like I had come to know her through someone else's memories. I could be there, through time and endurance. I could become a part of my mother's once lived in world, where she had dreams and aspirations. I could try and understand the reasons behind her actions. Understand this so called curse.

"Your mother was a stubborn mule," quipped Carmen as she held my hand to help me cross a deserted road like an imbecile. "Never once listened to anybody. Not even her father. No matter what we are raised to respect such elders."

"Were they close?"

"Humph, your grandfather was a schizophrenic Bella...a sick, sick man." I knew there had to be a history of it somewhere.

"It must have been difficult to raise her alone after my grandmother died?"

"Oh he had help. She was raised by her step mother. Diandra. Did I not tell you?"

"Um...No...Is she still alive?' I doubted it with the track record.

"She left him five years into the marriage. I'm unaware of her whereabouts." Carmen looked ambushed by the conversation as she walked ahead of me. "Forgive me Bella. I must be misplacing my memory."

"Did he beat my mother?"

"Oh heavens no, though his words were enough to leave their damaging scars."

"How did she cope?"

"She kept busy. Studied plenty and kept to her room. She often took refuge with my parents when things got too much. But she was always head strong and independent. I always admired her for that. It's rather ironic how she made me feel safe when she was the one that needed protecting." She stopped walking abruptly on the last sentence, then dipped her head under a leaning Maple tree, keeping her head turned away as she spoke. "I should have been there for her."

"You were. It wasn't your fault she distanced herself."

"Yes, but I should have tried harder, persevered. Instead I gave in and opted to languish all of my attention on my new husband."

"That was natural. You were newlyweds."

"I was selfish."

"You were human. And my mother made her choice."

She turned to look at me, tears brimming her eyes. "I forgot her." Her bottom lip jutted out, then wobbled out of control to curl downwards. Hanging her head, she sobbed into her hands. Her whole body shook up and down.

I wasn't sure what to do, and frankly, I was taken aback by so much emotion. Carmen didn't come across like a woman who often got upset or cried into her pillow every night, or even a person who dwelled on the past. I assumed the occasional initial tear had been a rarity.

I raised my hand to soothe her gently on the back, keeping my distance to avoid invading her moment.

She pulled me into a hug, much like usual, but with much more strength.

"I've failed you both," she spluttered into my hair. "I shall not fail you again."

"I know," I confided, suddenly feeling her pain to the extent of where I wanted it to stop. It consumed all that surrounded us and everything kept within. I felt her grieve and despair, yet I couldn't cry. Not a single tear would fall and shed the ache I wanted to lose.

Holding her tighter, I opened up to receiving the embrace without the usual nagging doubts. I deserved to be loved. I was worthy of the reward.

We had reached the driveway when Carmen released my hand and groped the collars of her shirt. Her eyes bulged in the direction of an old station wagon, rusted around the wheels and with mud plastered against the windshield. It looked as if it had never endured a car wash.

"Oh no! It can't be." Carmen looked terrified by the dirt-mobile.

"Whose is it?" I questioned, hiding a smirk.

"Someone I hope it isn't," she said, taking long strides up the steps and into the Manor until she entered the door to the drawing room. I followed, wanting to catch a glimpse of the person who had Carmen so nervous.

Inside was a woman seated at the table, dark hair spiralled into frizzy ends that were streaked a honey blonde. Her eyebrows were pencilled in to look like two uneven arches above a pair of heavy lashes. Her skin was spotless and ivory; her full lips were tinted with a sheer red gloss. She was attractive, in an unconventional way, probably because of her large-ish nose and narrow face.

Emmett stood by the window, sipping wine. Edward sat opposite the woman at the table, slouched and withdrawn from making any sort of eye contact. His arms were folded, and he had an unimpressed look on his face that crinkled his forehead. He was refusing to look at the five cards downturned in front of him. The woman was turning one upright as we entered. "Hmm...you are trapped," she said to him, circling the card with a long maroon painted fingernail. "Caught between duty and desire." Her voice was clear and precise, deviously testing.

"That will be enough," Carmen ordered, stomping into the room.

"Carmen," the woman cooed, her speech just as eloquent, but less polished. Her eyes changed from green to brown as she lowered her gaze to stand. Edward pushed back his chair and walked over to Carmen, whispering something into her ear. When she nodded in what seemed to be in agreement, he glanced my way, yet through me, past my solid form and onto another layer unidentified by me. In the few seconds he held my gaze, my heart fluttered like a hummingbird.

He looked away and left the room. I watched him leave, unable to take my eyes off the way he moved, his agility, brisk, but in control. I wanted to have just half of his confidence. I even listened to his footsteps along the hallway and to the gravel beside his car, listening out for the close of his car door, the sound of his engine fade away into the distance, feeling strangely able to see his expression the entire time: a deep frown and a painful press of lips.

"Let me look at you." Sighed the woman, bringing me back to the goings on in the room. The woman took a hold of Carmen's shoulders and glared into her eyes. They were level in height, with similar pointed features, except Carmen's skin was more youthful. It's also wasn't as blotchy and pink. I had yet to be acknowledged.

"My you are exquisite," she said. They hugged, but it wasn't returned by Carmen with as much affection.

"Why are you here Tanya?"

"To see my big, brave sister. Why else?' she guffawed. "Emmett bring me another glass of that wonderful wine."

He did as asked, pouring a glass from a large decanter, before handing it to her claw like hand.

"A loan?" Carmen asked, taking the glass from Emmett and drinking it herself. All of it.

"You do amuse Carmen. Now tell me. Who is this beautiful young woman standing before me?'

Emmett aised his head with a look that was close to a grunting growl. Frothing at the mouth was the only likely follow up to the obvious display of hatred.

With a deep breath Carmen explained. "This here is Bella. Rene's daughter. I shall be taking care of her during her visit." The daggers Carmen threw in Tanya's direction seemed threatening, but Tanya took a blind bit of notice. Instead she grabbed my hand and began to stroke at my palm. "You have a creative hand." Her fingertips traced invisible lines. "A very, very powerful hand."

Emmett snorted into his glass as Carmen poured herself another drink full to the brim.

Bringing my hand closer to her face, Tanya smiled to herself. "You will bear a child with your one true love." She peered at me smugly. "You've found him haven't you?"

I snatched back my hand, rubbing to erase the pins and needles that had risen up my arm.

"Or is there more than one who has your interest?"

Emmett watched me from the other side of the room, engrossed in hearing my reply.

I flashed her a bemused look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yet you will. Come on. Sit down." She put her arm around me. A heavy scent of peppermint and jasmine hit my nose. It was pleasant, but overpowering. After pushing me into a chair, she seated herself opposite me at the table. Carmen kept her back turned from us, drinking herself into a stupor by the looks of it. Emmett on the other hand, slammed his glass down and stomped out of the room. Something had bothered him, then again everything had that affect.

At least I knew who Tanya was, and considering she was the younger sister, she looked older than Carmen. Her carnivorous grin turned to a frown just as I thought it. I wondered if she could read minds. Could an apparent witch do that? I had to watch my brain activity.

I looked down at the table. The card facing up was of two lovers dripping with blood. A sword ran through their chests. The words 'sire' was printed in gold capital letters along the bottom. What type of tarot deck was this?

She looked at me as if to answer my question, then flipped the card on the right, revealing a pile of skulls and bones lay mounted beneath a crown where 'Death' was prominent as the message.

"A debt for a rebalance," she said, circling the crown with her fingernail. "A prized possession soon to be taken." She almost hissed the words at me.

She had a voice not to be trusted. Yet I sensed that the moment I'd seen her, the way she watched Edward with a calamity and dispensable joy.

"You're quite the resolve," she purred, leaning back into her chair. "And you dear Issy are a match made in heaven."

I wasn't sure what that meant, but it seemed Carmen did.

"Enough of your games Tanya, what do you want?" Carmen turned to look at her. Her face drained to an almost green.

"I missed you and the children. Is that a crime nowadays?"

"How long do you wish to stay?" Carmen did little to hide her alarm.

"Just a few days, then I shall be out of your way. I shall not stand in it, I assure you."

Tanya looked at me in puzzlement. "How long is your visit?"

"Just a few weeks," I said avoiding her predatory gaze.

"Hmm, then I arrived in time to bid you farewell." She made it sound like for good.

"I hear you're from Utah."

"That's right."

"Which part."

"Salt Lake City."

"I once lived there you know?"

"You did?"

"Yes, scrounging place."

The conversation cut dead and Carmen resumed her place. "I need to change and wash for dinner. Esme will show you to your room." She floated out of the room, closing the door behind her.

I was left alone with Tanya staring at me like a wild cat about to pounce and rip me to shreds. Except she was the one with the claws tapping to an irrelevant beat, waiting to savagely peel at my armour, a shield of protection, prepared for an unjust attack.

Yet it never came. We silently observed each other to the chirp of crickets with the close of another day. Our inner thoughts kept for future reference.