Carlisle drove me to the Ute reservation through a road I never knew existed. In fact, I didn't even know there was a reservation nearby.
"There aren't a lot of natives left. The ones who live in Wild Horse choose to live in pretty mild seclusion from the rest of the world. They're right on the border with Colorado too. And this reservation isn't federally protected either. Its just a piece of land to call their own," he explains.
"I didn't know there was a reservation here. The only one I know of is the Wind River Reservation in central Wyoming," I answer.
"The natives have a history with our kind," he says. "They have legends of pale-skinned bloodsucking humans. The chief and his closest know about our coven," he adds.
"Does the tribe have supernatural secrets of its own?" I ask.
"Since we don't interact much, I haven't seen it for myself. But their scents smell strongly of wet dogs. My suspicion is that there are a few shapeshifters," he answers.
"That's pretty cool. Are there any other superhuman kinds that you know of?" I ask.
"Well, reborn deity spirits," he answers.
"Any others?" I ask.
"Not that I know of, but at this point I believe in just about everything. Its just up to me to see it. I like objective evidence," he answers.
"Agreed. I need to see it to believe," I agree.
"You're a scholar like myself, Alex. You do your research before making decisions. You look at things holistically and as objectively as possible," he says.
"I do my best, yes," I answer.
"Alex, I think you'd be a very successful immortal if that's what you choose to do," he says.
"What do you define as successful?" I ask.
"You can make an impact on the world," he answers. "You're highly motivated. For you to be twenty-one and in your last year of graduate school, you must have had to start college prior to eighteen," he adds.
"I started college shortly before my sixteenth birthday," I explain.
"Why that early?" he asks.
"I had the opportunity to, and I took it. I wanted to jumpstart my life, in a way. Leave home, start a career," I answer.
"What was home life for you?" he asks.
"Highly dysfunctional and abusive. Parents were abusive to each other, and to their children. I'm thankful it wasn't very physical," I answer.
"I'm sorry you went through that. I'm glad you made the decision to leave," he sympathizes.
"I'm sure everyone in your family has a traumatic past of their own. Mine is nothing unique," I say.
"You're not wrong. I changed Esme after she attempted suicide. I found Rose bleeding after a gang rape. Edward was dying of Spanish influenza. Alice was changed after being institutionalized for having psychic visions," Carlisle says.
"Does emotional development stop at the point one is turned?" I ask.
"Yes," he answers.
"How old were you when you were changed?" I ask, hoping its not too personal of a question.
"Twenty-three. But do keep in mind I'm well over three-hundred and forty years old. People continue to evolve over that long of a period of time," he answers.
"Do you get caught up in whatever age you're supposed to be? Your adoptive children act like they're in college," I comment.
"They're good people, Alex, even though they don't act like some of the oldest humans alive at home. Emmett is an expert mechanic but acts like a goofy child. Actually all of them have graduate degrees, with the exception of Emmett, who like trades instead of sciences. Jasper has a doctorate in philosophy, Edward does too in addition to political science. Rosalie has studied medicine in the past but prefers studying pathology, and is working on her bioengineering master's right now at the university. Alice has a doctorate in social work and works at the elementary school.
Because we don't age, we often feel stuck in time. Like we aren't getting anywhere. Every twenty years or so, we need new papers, and any accomplishments we have made are now erased. I have over three centuries of experience as a doctor. I go back to medical school every couple decades and study a different speciality. But no one knows that except for me. I can perform any kind of surgery, but I still call in specialists who may not even be able to make it in time to save the patient, because according to my papers, I'm not experienced in that particular area," he explains.
"That sounds very frustrating, to keep going back in time rather than building on what you've already done," I say.
"It is. Time moves slowly enough to adapt to it, but before I know it, I'm supposed to be sixty but I look forty, and I have to retire and move away and start over again. Not completely, but I always have to remember that the clock starts as start as soon as we move. I could stop practicing medicine and disappear into the wilderness in Siberia where I won't meet another human for years, but I chose medicine to help people," he answers.
"Carlisle, if you could chose whether to stay immortal or become human, what would you do?" I ask.
"I'd stay immortal. And I'll tell you why. Esme is immortal, and I want to live with her forever," he answers.
"And if you were both mortal?" I ask.
"Then we'd have no choice but to be mortal unless one of us were changed," he answers. "I think you're trying to ask me whether I'd recommend you to become one of us," he says.
I look at him and nod.
"I don't change humans unless its their only option. Usually its a life or death situation. In your case its be abducted by the Volturi or live with the coven. And I'd most definitely recommend staying with us because I feel you'd be most happy with our family. Esme and I just talked about this earlier- Rosalie is very picky who she likes, and she's warmed up to you in a very short span of time. I think she see's you as a good friend, if not a sister," he explains.
"This might just be me being the anxious person I am, but I wouldn't want to live in fear of being abducted and possibly killed for the powers I posses as a mortal," I say.
"I don't want that for you either. Unless the spiritual leaders can offer you some sort of other option, I'd personally recommend that you stay with my family for your protection. I'm very grateful Felix didn't shatter you to death," Carlisle says.
"Carlisle, wouldn't the Volturi want me even after I'm changed?" I ask.
"Yes, but they won't be as likely to take you because you'd be a part of the Cullen coven. No only are we currently a coven of seven, we also have allies all over the world. Speaking of, I forgot to mention that we have cousins in Alaska who come from Slovenia. You reminded me when you said your dog's name," he answers.
"Oh wow, that's close to home. How long ago did they leave Slovenia, approximately? My question is are they from present-day Slovakia, or pre-Christian Slovenia?" I ask.
"Pre-Christian. Tenth-century," he answers.
"That's a long time to be alive," I comment.
He nods. "It is. The Denali coven has been around for much longer than I have been alive. The three sisters who started the coven fled to Alaska to live in solitude from humans. Like us, they are now vegetarians as well. We go to visit every so often," he explains.
"Alaska sounds like a good place for immortals. So does Siberia and northern Canada," I say.
"It is, no doubt. There are most likely vampires in Siberia that we are unaware of. Eastern European vampires keep a distance from the vampires in the western world," he says.
"Those are my people, minus the vampire part, for now," I mention.
"What are you thinking?" Carlisle asks.
"I'm thinking whether I would be a good ally to unify covens from Eastern Europe with yours, and perhaps with the spirit world as well," I answer.
"That's very honorable and ambitious of you, Alex. You are very considerate of our kind," he says.
"Anything I can do. Its who I am, it seems," I reply.
Carlisle parks the car on the side of the road before a turn-off to another dirt road, which I can only assume is the reservation. "They'll come out," he says.
Its awfully strange to wait here with Carlisle, because I feel like I'm in an identity crisis. Thanks to my childhood, I'm very intimidated by authority figures and underestimate myself in fear of failure. My parents told me I wouldn't get anywhere in life, and I believed them. I no longer do, but I tell myself that I won't accomplish my dreams because I'm incapable. I tell myself that I will fail after success, and therefore, never succeeded. What if I'm not a demi-spirit? What if I'm just a regular human who now knows vampires? What if I'm just clinically insane and I'm just living a delusional life?
"I can hear them," Carlisle says. "Alex?" he asks.
I snap my head to look at him. I just noticed I was staring into space. "Yes," I respond.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
"Yes, just thinking. I dissociate sometimes," I answer.
"Normally someone would tell you something along the lines of 'don't be worried' but that's just insensitive. It's alright to be worried. Neither of us know what the spiritual leaders will tell us," he says.
"I'd be straight up lying if I said I wasn't nervous," I reply.
"You're very honest, did you know that?" he asks.
"I do. I'm a horrible deceiver, first off, but also deceiving does me and others little good in a majority of situations. In cases where it is best to withhold the truth, I withhold information rather than the truth," I answer.
"Wise words spoken by a wise woman," Carlisle says.
A young male, about twenty years old, with tan skin, thick black hair pulled into a low pony tail, and a tribal tattoo on his right bicep knocks on the passenger window. I didn't notice anyone coming up behind us.
My adrenaline spikes and Carlisle grabs my arm before I jump. Too late. Fucking hell stop! Stop the noise! Stop the startling, I hate it! I know I'm not going to die, but I feel like I'm in danger when I'm suddenly stressed! I think to myself. I tense up all my muscles but I don't dare lash out to curl up into a ball like I usually do.
"The chief is ready to see you. You have exclusive permission to enter the Rez for this meeting," the male says.
"Alex?" Carlisle asks. My fists are balled and toes curled tight. I want to fucking run. I want to be alone. I want to be hugged and reassured that I'm alright. I don't want to be here. I want out. Now.
"Yes," I answer.
"Are you ok?" he asks.
"Not anymore, but I'm going to ignore it and deal with it later," I answer, looking him straight in the eyes, which is insanely uncomfortable for me when I'm being ultra-vulnerable.
"Thank you for telling me. Keep breathing," he replies.
We get out of the car and walk with the male down the dirt driveway to a wooden gate that is, and has been open since we got here. The entrance is a tall wooden frame surrounded by log beams for loose fencing. Its not to keep anything in or out of the property, but rather to more or less mark that the property is owned.
"I'm Matthew, by the way," the man introduces himself to me by looking at me directly while briskly walking into the reservation.
"Pleasure. I'm Alex," I reciprocate.
The reservation is comprised of small cabins and manufactured homes spread apart in a lightly wooded area. The roads are all dirt. And then I see the start of a large lake facing the mountains. It's beautiful. So serene.
Matthew escorts us to a log home a couple hundred feet away from the entrance. Four shirtless men, also young, are standing in front. They give Carlisle a visibly defensive look, which I can assume is because they know him. And then they look at me like a raw piece of meat ready for the grill.
The covered porch is decorated with Native American art and wood carvings. The storm door opens and out comes a tall Native woman. "The chief is waiting," she says to Carlisle and I. Matthew stays outside, and I follow Carlisle inside the log cabin.
The inside is warmly decorated with mountain-style artwork and native art pieces. Its beautiful and homely. I smell a strong odor of incense.
We turn a corner to a large sitting area. On a leather couch covered in animal hide site an elderly gentlemen with long grey hair, large glasses, and cowboy boots. "Welcome," he says when he sees Carlisle and I.
"Thank you for having us," Carlisle greets.
We are invited to sit opposite of the chief. "Thank you, Stephanie," he says to the woman who led us here. She sits by the chief.
"This is Alex. We believe that she is a demi-spirit," Carlisle starts.
The chief extends his hand to me, which is a good five feet from me. "Come, child," he says.
I stand up, wobbly for a millisecond, and take four steps forward. Since he is sitting down, I make an effort to kneel to his level when I give him my hand. I have to clench my teeth and make all attempts not to groan in pain from my ribs.
"Alex," Carlisle warns. I take it he heard my internal pain.
I ignore his warning because I don't want to appear weak by expressing pain. "Carlisle said the Volturi got to you," the chief says.
"They did," I answer. I don't know this guy's name.
"I'm going to read your spirit, Alex," he says right before closing his eyes and pulling his eyebrows down, as if in deep concentration.
I look at him contently before turning my head to look at Carlisle, who is clearly watching me.
The chief opens his eyes and looks Carlisle straight in the face. "I don't see anything," he says.
I gasp softly. I feel shame and embarrassment.
"Alex, you need to let him in," Carlisle says. "Billy can't read you outright since you're shielded from mind powers," he adds.
"What do I need to do?" I ask both of them.
"Focus and visualize yourself opening a door. Bring as much detail into it as you can. Then just keep it open," the chief answers.
I close my eyes and Billy squeezes my hand. I imagine a big, wooden door. A traditional Russia izba with wooden lace decoration trim around all doors and windows. I visualize the door opening and seeing a lit up kitchen inside. Traditionally, Russian homes had one big room, with the Russian stove keeping it warm year round. A sturdy wood table topped with a white linen table cloth hold a traditional tea kettle.
"Alright Alex, I have what I need," Billy says.
I open my eyes and look at him. The Chief looks at Carlisle and says, "I can't tell you what spirit she is because she's foreign. What I see is a lot of good in her heart. She's perceptive like a crow, and loyal like a dog. But someone has hurt her really badly. Someone close to home." He then turns to look at me. "You have so much pain inside, it blocks your powers. I can't see past it, Alex. I'm sorry," he says.
Tears flood my eyes uncontrollably, and I turn my head away from everyone because I don't want them to see me cry. I didn't come here to be absolutely roasted. I know I'm damaged. I was hoping he could tell me something I don't already know.
"Thank you, Billy. We appreciate your time greatly. The family sends their regards," Carlisle tells him. I can hear him stand up.
Billy lets go of my hand. I stand up without looking at him. "Alex," he says. I force myself to make eye contact with him. "You need a pack. They will help you."
"A pack of what?" I ask. Dogs aren't pack animals, contrary to popular belief.
"A pack of individuals who understand and accept you," he answers.
"So...friends? You're telling me I need friends?" I ask. I start to feel defensive and upset. I've been in therapy for years, have tried countless medications, and have ended up in the emergency room twice.
"Not friends, a pack. Friends who will stay with you for life," he answers. His voice is so confident, but the words just sound like garbage. When you make a friend there is no guarantee they will be around for life. Most of my friendships don't last more than a year. People tend to leave, because they suck.
"Are you referring to wolf packs?" I ask, just to humor him.
"Yes," he answers.
"Then what you're saying is bullshit because wolf packs aren't bonded for life," I spit out. I back up towards Carlisle. "Grey wolves live in packs for two to three years and are comprised of a male and female and their offspring. When the offspring are about two, they leave their pack to find mates of their own." I love when someone tries to mislead me about something I know a lot about.
"Alex, let's go," Carlisle says patiently. I begin to follow him outside. Billy doesn't stand up.
"You need to heal, that's what I'm trying to tell you. It's possible you have the powers of your deity, but you haven't experienced them fully because your trauma is just that deep," I hear the chief say before we open the door to exit.
This stops me in my tracks and I turn around. "I've tried for years to heal. And it just keeps getting worse," I reply. Tears begin to roll down my face.
"Alex, come back. Please," he asks.
I hesitate, but give in. I walk back to the sitting area but stay standing up.
"You're a spirit child, Alex. Modern medicine doesn't work for you," he says.
I raise my eyebrows. He's right. It doesn't. Modern medicine and therapies don't work.
"You need to get off your medication. You're a hybrid, there's no doubt about it. Your physiology is the same, but your psyche isn't. Its much more sensitive because you are a demi-spirit. I think you'll heal best with people around you who are different, like you. What powers do you possess?" he says.
"I can talk to dogs," I reply.
"Can you?" he asks.
I nod.
"Matthew!" the Chief calls out loudly.
The young man comes into the room.
"Hold his hand, like I held yours," he instructs me.
I give the chief a hesitating look but do it anyways. I hold my hands out, and Matthew gives me one of his. I sandwich his palm between my hands.
I immediately feel this emotional connection. I look at Matthew, who looks at me kindly.
"I don't talk to dogs like conversations. I talk to them non-verbally," I clarify to the Chief.
"Tell him something. Communicate to Matthew," he instructs.
Alright, dude. I want to communicate to you that I am very uncomfortable right now. If you understand me, show sympathy with your facial expressions.
Matthew looks at me, concerned and very sympathetically.
"Holy crap," I gasp and pull my hands away. It worked. "You're a shapeshifter," I ask. Its the only explanation for this to have worked.
"Something of the sort," he says. "Are you good with weird?" he asks.
"I guess so," I answer. I turn to look at Carlisle, who looks so unfazed by all of this.
"Matthew, go shift outside. Tell the others they can do so as well," Billy instructs. Matthew jogs outside. "Let's see how they accept you," he tells me.
I don't even know how to respond. God dam my ribs hurt. I feel like laying down right about now.
Billy stands up, and Stephanie, who has been standing by the wall this entire time, hands him a walking cane. He motions with his hand to go towards the door. Carlisle follows close behind me. I'm having such a hard reading Carlisle lately. He's very intuitive and as patient as a saint, but very closed off emotionally. I can't rely on his body language as much as I usually do. He's so neutral right now.
As soon as I open the door, my eyes are met with four large wolves. They are just around my height of over five-feet, and I can only estimate that they weigh at least five-hundred pounds. One of the wolves is a scary black color with matching eyes. Two others are a mixed-grey color with orange eyes. And the last, the one on my right, is a reddish color. This wolf is the smallest of the bunch. It looks kind.
I have to be honest, I'm not scared of them. I know that these are supernatural creatures, but they are canines. And I know dogs inside and out. I don't even have to think about how I act around them. I unconsciously adapt to their method of communication.
The wolves are snarling and kind of growling at me. I offer them my hand to smell, and let them approach me at their own pace. The darkest one approaches me first. He takes a big whiff of my hand and backs off. The grey ones come next. They sniff and I see relaxed tail wags. Then the red wolf. He is the most friendly. Almost immediately after smelling me, I feel that it is safe enough to touch his muzzle. He leans his head into me, and I pet his ginormous head. I give him a rub on top of his head and between the eyes, and scratch behind his ears.
The dark wolf makes out a loud snarl, and the red wolf is startled. He backs away from me instantly and gets behind the dark one. I hold my hand out again for him to sniff. The wolf doesn't approach it this time. Instead he goes to smell my feet, then my pants, which are Alice's. If they were truly mine I think they would accept me much sooner because my clothing smells like the animals I work with, mostly dogs.
I hold my hands by my side. I'm tense but I try not to be. I let him smell me all over.
Then I hold out my hand again. I raise it slowly to the wolf's nose.
He holds his muzzle still, and I make the decision to touch the side of his muzzle where he can still see my hands. I rub his muzzle and go up the face towards the ears. I then pet the neck and top of the head. I give him a gentle scratch behind the ears as well.
The wolf nuzzles into my hands, and I feel so special and welcomed. I feel safe to say that the alpha has accepted me.
I stop, and the wolf steps back to be in line with the back. They all bow their heads to me.
"Congratulations," Billy says from him porch where he has been observing. "They've accepted you as a friend," he says.
"Is this the pack you were referring to?" I ask.
"Not exactly. They're a pack of spirit dogs. Not wolves, not werewolves, not dogs. Our children, mainly men, are born as dog spirits, and begin to phase as wolves in their adolescent years. You're a spirit too, and while you're not a dog spirit like them, you can communicate with them quite well," he explains.
I don't know how to respond, so I just nod. I look at Carlisle for some help. I feel incredibly uncomfortable and I want to go home now.
"Thank you, Billy. We have to go on our way now," Carlisle steps in. I sign in relief.
"Alex, you're welcome back here, any time you want," Billy says to me.
"Thank you, for your hospitality," I reply. I turn to the wolf pack and smile at them.
Carlisle leads the way out of the reservation and I follow him. He walks briskly, and although I want to get out fast, my ribs cannot keep up. The higher my heart rate goes, the more my chest hurts. "Carlisle," I call.
He stops and turns to me. "Sorry, Alex, I forgot," he says.
Once back at the car, I can barely hold myself up any more. It hurts too much to even sit up straight. The pain makes me want to twist myself every time I inhale and exhale.
"Alex?" Carlisle asks, concerned.
"I'm in a shitload of pain and panic," I blurt out. Again, I have zero reason to lie to him. I trust Carlisle as a doctor and as a person.
Carlisle opens his door and super-speeds to me.
"Alex, don't take in deep breaths if it hurts. I know you use breathing exercises to calm yourself, but your ribs can't take it right now," he says.
At this point I can't even speak. I'm clenching my teeth hard, gasping for tiny bits of air and grunting it back out.
"Alex, you're gonna be very uncomfortable until we get home. You're gonna be okay," he says.
He gets back into the driver's side and speeds off, back to the homestead. I don't even dare look at the speedometer although I'm very tempted to. I squeeze my eyes shut and just try to manage the pain.
"I'm so sorry, I should have thought about bringing pain management with me," he apologizes as he drives. I open my eyes to look at him, and all he's doing is watching me with empathy.
The ten minutes seem like an hour. Every second is just plain painful.
Carlisle parks the Jeep right outside the doorsteps where Edward and the rest of the family are waiting. Carlisle scoops me up after unbuckling me, and Emmett holds my legs as they vampire-speed me up to his study. I wail out in pain. Its so bad I see stars and my eyesight is declining.
"Where's Alaska?" I ask as they lay me down. I miss my dog so much and I feel so guilty for being away from her.
"She's in the yard, she's fine," Emmett answers.
"I need to see her," I ask weakly.
"No, you don't. We will take care of her. She's a super happy dog and she has everything you told us. A cup of food morning and night, she's got her toys, food, shelter, and lots of room to run around," Emmett reassures.
"Alaska..." I mutter. Carlisle has injected me with a load of anodynes.