A/N for 2020-10-30: My thanks to Chayasara and Eeyorefan12 for their fine beta work.

Happy reading, All Hallows and All Saints for those of you who celebrate.

Erin


"Ugh," Charlie said and then added an "Ow!" on top of it after lifting his head and smacking it on the engine cover of the boat. With his hands coated in engine oil, he used his forearm to rub at the top of his head.

Bella grinned a little as smears of engine grease appeared on his forehead despite his efforts. She continued to work at the hull, rubbing on the waxing agent in small circles.

Charlie paused, eyes narrowed, head cocked. "Dang, that's someone at the door."

Bella listened. There were several neat knocks. "Yeah, sounds like it. I'll get it, Dad. You're a mess."

"You can say that again," Charlie grumbled.

Despite his grousing, Bella knew Charlie was happy—or happier than he had been. He hugged her every morning, something he'd never done before she left, and he smiled occasionally between directing frowns at the boat he was working on, mumbling over the work that still needed doing. Bella wiped off her wax-coated hands on a rag, which she tossed beside the back door, moving quickly to get to the front. Charlie loved working on this boat despite all the difficulty it presented. It had been Harry Clearwater's, and Harry's widow Sue had made it very clear that she expected Charlie to take good care of it. Bella's father was doing just that—happily. She had offered to help wax the hull, though she was beginning to regret her volunteerism. She was tired after only an hour of slow and laborious, well . . . labour.

Expecting either a parcel delivery or another visit from the Jehovah's Witnesses who liked to frequent her neighbourhood, Bella opened the door before lifting her gaze.

"My Bella," Demetri said.

She didn't have time to gasp, breathe, or run. Her hands, which she tried to fling up defensively were suddenly captured in his. He placed them firmly on his own shoulders before he grasped her around the waist, yanked her towards him and kissed her.

She wanted to struggle or scream but didn't, knowing the very mortal danger his presence created. Terrified by thoughts of what he could do, she remained very, very still as his hard lips pressed forcefully against hers.

Edward had told her that he would be nearby or that one of the other Cullens would be, as always. Where were they? And if they weren't there, had something happened to them?

More traitorously, her mind added, Have they left again?

Demetri redirected her attention by finally pulling away and releasing her from his iron grip. "Oh, my Bella." He cupped her cheeks with near bruising pressure. "They told me he forced you to go, that you left screaming 'No!' I came as soon as I could. Did he harm you?"

She was struck again, even in her terror, at the delusion under which he operated.

The very important delusion you need to maintain. But also that you need to correct.

She had to swallow before she could answer. "No, he didn't hurt me, but I didn't want to leave." Both parts were technically true, just not entirely true.

Demetri exhaled. "I will take you home, then."

"No!" she said, cutting back the force of the word just in time.

"No?" His eyes narrowed.

"My father." Bella's eyes darted to the left, suggesting the rear of the house. His hands still prevented her head from moving. "I . . . soon, I won't be able to see him." With his show of possession, she wondered how much Demetri knew of Edward's promise to Aro.

Her words seemed to placate him a little, and his hands slipped from her face. "Your . . . human attachments. Yes. It is better if their conclusion is planned." He frowned as if displeased by this necessity. "I trust that Edward has not shown inappropriate attention to you. You smell of him." It was said so neutrally, so cooly, that Bella's innards chilled. Demetri knew or at least suspected something. Would Alice have seen anything of Edward's plan? And if she had, would Aro have shared it with Demetri? There was no way to know, and she took in what she hoped didn't sound like a nervous breath.

"He said that he promised to change me and that he was responsible for me. He and his family . . . watch, to make sure I'm safe." Her gaze skimmed the treeline. Demetri would have smelled their presence . . . or their absence.

She watched Demetri watching her. His hand returned to her hip. There would be a bruise on it by tomorrow, his stony grasp tight on her flesh. "Aro should never have made such an agreement with him. I was . . . not consulted. I know how hard it was for you to release hope of his affection. Do not let him be . . . confused now." His voice lingered over this last word. "You know whose you are and whose you will be." He ran his nose up the length of her hair, almost groaning. "How I have missed you."

No, no, no, no . . . stay still. He won't. He can't. Her body trembled.

"And I can see that you have missed me, too." His gaze raked over her form, finally settling on the hand he gripped. He frowned. "Where is your ring?"

Shit. She scrambled for a plausible excuse. "I . . . took it off so it wouldn't get damaged. I was helping my dad work on his boat."

The frown persisted. "You are expected to do menial labour?"

Her heart raced. He wouldn't hurt Charlie, would he? She needed to stress her attachment. He would understand that, wouldn't he? "I want to help my dad. I love him."

Instead of calming him, though, his eyes narrowed further at her words. Jealousy. He was jealous of her father.

In the background, the dull clunks as Charlie worked on the boat had become further and further apart until they stopped altogether. The kitchen door creaked and clanged as it opened and shut, signalling Charlie's approach.

"You should go," she whispered urgently. She had no idea how to explain Demetri to Charlie, and any suspicion endangered her father.

The frown curled into what looked like a sly grin. "And miss meeting your human sire? I think not."

It was too late. Charlie's voice rang out from the end of the hall. "Who's your friend, Bella?" Charlie extended his hand. "Charlie Swan. You are . . .?" Charlie glanced at Bella briefly, his eyes questioning why she hadn't said anything. She was pretty certain he hadn't missed the fact that Demetri had been holding her hand when he'd first walked in.

Demetri shook Charlie's hand, and if her father noticed anything different about the way his hand felt or the grip that she knew must be too tight, he said nothing.

"This is Demetri. We met in Italy." Miraculously, her voice was even.

"Oh yeah? How'd you meet?" Charlie asked.

Bella's brain went blank.

Demetri chuckled. "Bella was visiting one of the museums for which I collect."

"Oh?" Charlie looked at her again.

She tried to smile naturally.

"You collect . . . ?"

"Interesting pieces," Demetri said. "I was in Port Angeles on business recently. There is some truly unique artwork there." He smiled at Charlie, and Bella watched her father flinch slightly.

No, Charlie was not entirely blind to how different Demetri was.

"But nothing as beautiful as your daughter." Demetri practically purred.

No, please no, she thought. Please don't do this.

Charlie cleared this throat. He was not effusive with words, and he was obviously uncomfortable with the way Demetri was—with everything about Demetri, Bella suspected.

"Port Angeles seemed too close to miss passing up visiting Bella, even briefly."

"Well, we're glad you stopped by." Charlie's even voice emphasized the second-to-last word, as in, the visit was over.

"Hmm," Demetri said. He paused, visually assessing Charlie. "I can see that now is not a good time. But I will see you again, my Bella, when you next return to Italy." Then he picked up her limp hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his tongue making unseen contact with her skin. When he released her arm, he grinned a knowing grin. "Sooner, rather than later. Do not forget what I said."

"Bye," Charlie said politely, and then he drew Bella inside, closing the door. "Who the hell was that?"

Bella shook her head, imploring his silence. The wrong words from Charlie could very well sign his death warrant.

But the question that she'd been asking herself since Demetri's arrival was again loud in her mind: where were the Cullens, and more specifically, where was Edward?

Charlie's hands rested on his hips, and he locked his level gaze on what was now her very distressed body. She stuck her hands in her pockets, trying to hide her discomfort.

"Bella?"

"I think I'm going to take a bit of a break from the boat waxing, Dad, and head upstairs to lie down for a bit." She turned towards the stairs, but Charlie moved in front of her.

"That was no friend," Charlie said, hands resting on his hips. She could see by his expression that he was trying to puzzle something out, to make sense of what he had just seen.

Please don't. Please!

She could feel the blood continuing to flow down to her feet. If she said the wrong thing, and Demetri overheard it, she endangered not only them both but anyone else the Volturi thought was involved.

Charlie's expression suddenly cleared, and he narrowed his eyes. "Was that one of the guys Edward had to—"

"Dad, I really don't feel well. Can we talk later?" she said, cutting him off and begging him with her eyes.

With one of his curt nods, Charlie dismissed her, and she moved slowly and deliberately up the stairs, practically feeling his gaze following her, knowing his questions were not abandoned, only delayed.

With the initial shock of Demetri's arrival over, anger fomented in its place. Clearly he had known what he was doing in Volterra. It wasn't that the realization was new; it was that it had a fresh and clear visual target. The way the bastard had looked at her on her front porch, clearly expecting her to be happy to see him, had told her just how much he'd known the addiction would tie her to him. No doubt he'd expected his actions today to interrupt her current recovery. She'd already known he was monstrous, and her increased understanding of his capacity for malevolence only fuelled her rage even more. He'd deliberately addicted her to his venom.

She went first to the bathroom where she scrubbed her hand in an attempt to rid herself of any vestige of Demetri's physical presence. Then she went to her room where she alternated between trembling and pacing quietly. When her energy and anger were spent, she sat on the bed and pulled her blankets up around her, knees to her chest.

"Bella?" Edward asked quietly.

She pulled in a sharp breath and then released her words and tears simultaneously. "Where were you?"

Edward crouched by her bed, close enough for her to touch him but not reaching for her. She could see that he wanted to, his shoulders tense with his restraint. "I was close by the entire time." He swallowed. "I'm so sorry."

Words failed her. He'd been here, and he'd let Demetri—?

"He knew I was here, Bella. He wasn't alone, and he was very clear with the thoughts he directed at me. If I'd tried to interfere, he and the guard members with him would have killed your father and taken you. And he would have done so had your father reacted otherwise. I'm so sorry you had to endure that."

Both frightened and relieved, Bella closed her eyes. "Is he really gone?"

"Yes."

It would be easy to cry. It would be easy to allow her control to dissolve. She yanked herself back from the verge of both, opening her eyes to watch Edward.

His face wore her distress for her, and she wished she could offer him the physical comfort and reassurance he so obviously needed, but the thought of feeling his cold skin was so freshly abhorrent that she couldn't even extend her hand. He seemed to understand this, standing suddenly and moving away from the bed and closer to the window. Instead of his usual calm demeanor around her, she sensed a growing uneasiness in him.

"He won't touch or hurt you again, Bella."

Demetri was already hurting her, preventing her from touching Edward here and now. "I wish that were true." She knew Edward must feel the same, but wishes were truly all they had right now. Demetri's visit had made it clear that even the Cullens' constant presence could not deter him from coming near her if he chose to.

Edward did not challenge her comment.

"He kissed me." Bella wasn't sure if her words were more confession or complaint but they had slipped out before she had even thought about it. She felt herself shiver with revulsion as both the memory and the sensation of it washed over her. "He said I was...his."

Edward said nothing, but she saw that he had dropped his gaze to the floor, his hands in tight fists at his sides. Bella could practically feel the tension rolling off of him from across the room, could see his body literally vibrating with effort, and she knew that she was witnessing something he had never allowed her to see before—the full force of his struggle to control his true nature. In the wake of the fresh reminder of vampire brutality engendered by Demetri's visit, she supposed she should be frightened, but at least in this, Edward had her trust. He would not hurt her. Whatever instinct he was fighting surely had everything to do with her unwanted visitor. Still, she realized she was holding her breath as if doing so could somehow make this easier for him.

When he finally spoke, it was through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth. "That was for my benefit as much as yours. I saw what he did, both the kiss and when he put his . . . scent on you. I heard what he said." Edward raised his head, and when their eyes met, his were nearly black with something she didn't choose to name. "It will never be true," he said fiercely.

She knew what Edward had left unsaid, but it didn't matter because she understood. If he wasn't saying the words out loud, it was out of respect for her free will, but it didn't change the fundamental truth between them in this moment. She couldn't belong to anyone else. She was Edward's—and he was hers. And instead of that idea causing her to feel stifled or controlled, she realized that the opposite was true. She was still learning to recognize it for what it was, but the sense of belonging that she felt when they were together in their quietest moments could calm her soul.

She just wished that recognizing that almost-spiritual connection between them was enough to overcome the reoccurrence of the mental distress caused by Demetri's touch. Still hesitant to reach out to Edward, she laid one hand over her own heart as she held his gaze. Yes, this is yours, she thought.

The faintest of smiles ghosted across his lips before he repeated the gesture. He turned to sit in the rocking chair in the corner, still keeping his gaze on her but maintaining his careful distance. She supposed he thought it safer for both of them right now but already the tension seemed to have melted from his shoulders and the blackness in his eyes was giving way to amber.

Bella's thoughts reluctantly returned to the earlier events. She needed to process what had happened, both the how and the why. There was an agreement in place between the Volturi and the Cullens regarding her future. Even Demetri had acknowledged it. What was going on?

She stood up, folding her arms around herself in a protective posture. "Why was he here, Edward?"

Edward ran a hand through his hair in a show of agitation before he answered, "He was one of several guard members sent to the area."

That wasn't an answer. "Why?"z

She saw him glance out the window, exhale, and then look back at her. "It appears that there's a vampire making more of our kind in the area."

There was so much more to it than that, she could practically smell it. Here was his chance to be forthcoming, and she sucked in a shallow breath, wondering if she would have to drag yet another truth from him, hoping he wouldn't choose this moment to give free rein to his protective instincts, especially so soon after Demetri's possessive display.

"We're not sure, but we think it might be Victoria."

Her shallow breath turned into a shiver.

"Given that she wants revenge, and our family is still strong even without Alice and Jasper, if Victoria is collecting newborns—"

"She's probably making an army." Bella finished for him.

She saw Edward's eyebrows nudge together. "How do you—?"

"Carlisle's treatise. I read it in Volterra."

From the expression on his face, Bella understood that her reading this was new information to Edward. More importantly, she wondered for just how long he and the other Cullens had been speculating about the creation of an army. Her insecurity flared briefly inside of her along with all the other feelings making war in her gut, but she quickly stifled them, reminding herself that Edward had been forthcoming without any prompting from her. He was not the enemy here. "How long have you suspected?"

Edward shook his head. "I know what you might be thinking, Bella, but I'm not keeping information from you. We knew she had at least two other helpers. It was pure conjecture that she had more or that she was doing this. I have more hours alone than I care to spend on such speculation. I won't burden you with the products of my overly active mind."

It was a nervous but relieved sigh that she breathed out. "Thank you." Hands on her hips, she paced the length of her room. "So if she's building an army . . . ?" She hoped he would continue with some of his discarded speculation.

But Edward only shook his head again. "We really don't know, but given what's happening in Seattle, it's a possible theory."

She reflected on her morning routine of reading the newspaper at the table with Charlie, the Seattle Times at one end, the local paper at the other. The front page stories had become carbon copies of one another, repeating every few days or so: missing, murdered, serial killer—

"That could be good, then," Bella said.

The "how" in Edward's wrinkled features was unspoken.

"If they've dealt with her, it means you won't have to," she explained.

Edward shook his head. "No. Demetri—he thinks in a very particular way when he's been . . . successful. He wasn't, at least not like he's been before. He may have diminished her numbers, but I don't think he found what he considers the root of the problem. I could hear his distraction."

Her disappointment was startling. She checked herself, considering what she'd just been thinking. She'd wished that Demetri had been successful. Her mind wandered back to the grotesque horrors she'd been forced to witness in Volterra, and her stomach churned. She'd briefly aligned herself with Demetri and the guard. Ugh.

It was like the flip of a light switch; the change inside her was sudden. With a sense of finality, she moved to her desk. Her fingers trembled as she shoved aside papers, pens, books—where was her phone?—ah, there. She could barely punch in the familiar number, but when she did, she pressed the cold glass screen to her face, praying with every blip of the ringtone, Please answer. Please answer. She couldn't delay or wait, not any longer.

"Hiya!" Jake's loud and chipper voice made her flinch.

"Jake?"

"Bells?"

"Can you get over to my house right now?"

"Sure. Let me get my keys—"

"No. Now, now. Right away."

"Are you—?"

"I'm safe. Just—please hurry."

"You're sure you're okay?" She could hear him kicking off his shoes.

"Yes. Edward's here. I'm okay. I just—"

"I got it. Gimme five minutes."

She snapped the phone shut, looking back at Edward. His tense posture mirrored hers.

"It'll only take him a few minutes," Edward assured her.

He understands, she told herself as she nodded in response. She looked around her room, skimming over the artifacts of childhood that now seemed so out of place—magazine snippets that meant something when she was fourteen, fairy lights that staved off the dark, music that once soothed. All this was the detritus of an age passed, for she knew that the darkness held things no light or music could ever banish.

Darkness to which she would soon belong if the Volturi had their way.

Her clock face changed its red numbers four times before Edward spoke again quietly. "Jacob's here."

He got up suddenly from the chair in the corner and moved to the middle of the room, placing himself in front of Bella. She recognized the protective nature of his action and she had a moment's worry that there might be a looming confrontation, which puzzled her. He had wanted her to bring Jake here, hadn't he? Confused, she took a step forward so that they were side-by-side.

Jacob's hand soon appeared at the windowsill, leveraging the rest of him inside the room. She supposed he really couldn't have come through the front door, given that she was supposed to be resting alone. Unbidden, she realized that Demetri was the only supernatural creature who'd respected the human boundaries of her home. Given the present company, the irony was not lost on her.

"Who's been here?" Jacob asked, voice low and serious. His gaze snapped back and forth between Bella and Edward.

"One of our kind," Edward answered, his voice almost a growl.

"Duh. Who?" Despite his choice of words, there was no levity in Jacob's expression. He was all business.

Edward had not taken his eyes off of Jake since he'd come in but when Bella looked to him to answer the question, his expression softened and he nodded at her before explaining in a much calmer voice than before. Bella watched Jacob's eyes widen with the information that she had been visited by a Volturi guard member and that there were several others in the area. When Edward finished, she found her voice again. "Thank you for coming." Then she clamped her jaw shut, thinking about the words that she wanted to speak next. Was she sure? Because once she made this decision, they would need to move quickly, at least to protect the rest of the Cullens.

From outside, the sound of Charlie's soft swearing drifted through the window. Oh, Charlie. She winced. She'd need to say goodbye, and soon. Not that this changed things in that regard, but it felt so much more final.

"Okay." Jake shifted his weight, looking more his adolescent self than his body suggested. He waved a hand in Edward's direction. "So, that explains his death stare when I first came in, but why the rush to get here, then, if the nasty guy is gone?"

Looking around her room again, Bella decided it was fitting that she would announce the end of both their childhoods here, not that hers hadn't ended ages ago, but if there were any warmth remaining in that now-frayed and comforting notion, she was ripping it up in this moment.

She looked to Edward, whose expression was nothing but encouraging, and then turned back to Jacob. Squaring her shoulders, she swallowed hard and said, "I've made my decision, Jake. I'm not ready to be changed." She glanced again at Edward, who was nodding in approval. He trusted her, and he believed that this plan could work—if Jacob helped them. She thought again about the difficulties they would all face. But she knew that Jacob had already offered his support. She just had to ask for it on behalf of herself and Edward. Drawing a deep breath, she pushed out the words before her courage failed her. "Will you help me?"


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