2. First Smell

I get to my French class a few minutes early. Our teacher, Mrs. Morrison, is busy sorting out some papers, or maybe reviewing a lesson plan. I sit at my usual desk; it's meant for two students but I've had it all to myself for the whole year. None of the other kids like to sit next to us Cullens if given a choice. I don't blame them; they instinctively sense a danger, even though their conscious minds cannot identify it.

Since I have plenty of room, I scatter my books randomly on the desk; they're just props that help me look the part of an eager student. There's nothing in them I haven't memorized long ago and I'm already much more fluent in French than my teacher. In fact, I speak seven languages, and I practiced my French when we lived near Paris for a few years. In those days you could still find wild game in Europe.

I remember the girl called Jessica, a little airhead full of envy for the beautiful Cullens sisters', is also taking this class; she walks in with the new boy. I immediately realize that the seat next to me is the only one available, so I stack my books neatly on my side of the desk to make room for him.

This is an interesting development; I might get a chance to talk to him after all, and maybe satisfy some of my curiosity. There was no way I would have approached him but if we are sitting next to each other there should be no harm in exchanging a few pleasantries. We might even have to do some group work together.

I watch him hand a slip to the teacher and then head toward me. I almost chuckle to myself when I notice he's ambling toward me at a snail's pace, almost like he's counting his steps, looking only at his feet. I don't usually observe humans much; is this how they normally walk? I didn't think so, but I could be wrong.

It's true that most kids avoid us and we usually return the favor, but in class we try to be polite and of course we sometimes have to work on assignments with some of them. The boy seems pretty shy, though. I should probably introduce myself and try not to scare him….

Still thinking about the best way to start our conversation, I breathe in a mouthful of air when he's about to sit down and truly smell his blood for the first time. It's an aroma so sweet and overpowering that my mouth immediately fills with venom and all my muscles tense even as I recoil from my new classmate and hold on to the desk, trying to control my instinctive predator behavior.

My thirst is suddenly growing, expanding, filling every nook and cranny of my mind with the most intense desire I've ever experienced in my entire life. It's pushing any other thoughts aside, burying them under other more primal urges. The taste of his scent burned a path to my lungs and it's lingering in my throat, tantalizing, tempting. I want to feed on this heavenly blood and I want to feed on it now.

I stopped breathing, knowing that any more of this delicious odor will make me incapable of further resistance. My jaws are clenched. The chief's son is scratching his face and a drop of blood oozes out. He sees my expression and physically flinches and turns away. I can only imagine the hate in my eyes as I still stare at the source of the hunger tearing through my system and threatening to shatter the results of years of self-control and rigorous discipline.

I make the mistake of thinking of the fresh blood he just recently spilt; a few drops of such nectar could sate every cell in my body for days.

I think of Carlisle, of his unconditional love, and the effort he would have to make to hide the inevitable disappointment if I were to so spectacularly fail to uphold the unspoken rules we usually live by. I bite my lip and my jaw tenses even harder. Fortunately, I don't really need to breathe, another advantage of my cold state, but part of me wants to taste that smell again. Part of me will never forget it.

I could take him. I could be sinking my teeth in his neck before he even knew I was there. But then I would have to make sure no witnesses survive to tell the tale…

No, I can't. I mustn't. Esme will always love me, but how could I look at her with the life of innocent children coursing in my system? How could I ever look at myself in a mirror again?

Maybe I could wait… Hold my breath for one hour, then take him somewhere after class. I think I really frightened him; he's still visibly shaken and refuses to look this way again. Nevertheless, I could change his mind, apologize and pretend I have some kind of illness, maybe ask him to walk with me to the infirmary; we would never get there. I would take him into the forest behind the school, past the soccer pitch and the bleachers, into the darkness.

No, no, no! I have to think of my brothers and sisters. If somebody sees us we would have to leave. Rosalie would never forgive me. I almost laugh but manage to clamp my mouth shut. And I have to think of myself. I have strayed from out path before, and it was never worth it. True, I'd never smelled something so compelling, but my only victims were human monsters; this boy has done nothing to deserve the death I'm planning for him.

I've been able to stop breathing for fifteen minutes now, I realize. My throat burns but the red haze that had almost, in one moment of madness, turned me into the kind of beast I've fought all life not to be, is starting to lift. My mind is slowly regaining some clarity. Forty-five minutes of hellish torment until the end of class. Physically, not breathing for that long is perfectly doable; it's a little uncomfortable, because we usually rely on our sense of smell, but nothing more. The venom that keeps us alive, or at least as alive as one can be with a still heart, doesn't need oxygen, only blood.

I search my memory for whatever fragments of sanity I feel I can cling to, repeating to myself, like a mantra, that I must remember who I am; I am a Cullen, and I have the strength to rise above my needs and defy my basest instincts. I owe this strange boy that much; he has done nothing wrong. I owe it to my family, especially Jasper, for all they endured. Most of all, I owe it to myself, and the years I've fought to be different from other members of my kind.

When the bell rings, after what subjectively felt to me like millennia, I forgo niceties and walk outside of the class almost fast enough to give away my true nature… No, nobody notices, but of course I can't read the boy's mind and he had a first row seat for my bout of inexplicable anger.

It doesn't matter; I don't know how but I managed to not give in to the desire that still scrambles my thoughts. I am still master of my destiny.

Instead of heading to my next class, where the teacher will barely notice my absence anyways, I walk to the parking lot and then into the woods. When I'm sure I'm out of sight, I start to run, faster and faster, my legs barely touching the ground, away from the school and any other human in the vicinity. Only when I'm at least a mile away, past a low, vegetation-choked ridge, I finally breathe in again. I smell fresh leaves, coarse bark, freshly dug mulch, animal droppings. I listen to the insects, the birds, the small rodents teeming in the forest, now keeping away from me. I listen to their voices and let them sing in my veins, cleansing the memory of the horrible hunger. I remember who I am. I will not forget.

I shiver when I recollect being tempted to slaughter a whole class to satisfy my craving for the boy's blood. It could have been the kind of massacre that attracts the attention of usually distant enemies. I fill my throat with air again. I've been fasting for too long. Not even the symphonies of the forest can completely relax me now. I need to hunt, soon. My throat won't give me any peace otherwise.

I think of my siblings, still at school, and dig my cellphone out of my pockets. Alice is often distracted, focusing on Jasper, sensing his weakness. He's almost through his full first year as a vegetarian vampire, and this is the time when he might be more likely to relapse. She might not realize I won't be meeting them after school if she's not using her gift. I text her that I had to leave and that I will see them tonight at home. I also tell her that I barely avoided making the same mistakes Emmett is still stubbornly unashamed of, years after the grisly deeds he committed. She will understand what I mean.

I look behind me one more time, almost incredulous when I think of the shame and hunger ravaging my mind, and then start running again, farther away from him, deeper into the forests, where no humans stray, not even by accident, where I can find prey.

A couple of hours later, in a thicket so remote and impenetrable that not even the hardiest human hiker would dare bushwhack through, I finally sense the tangy animal scent I was looking for, a mountain lion's. When I compare it to the smell of the boy, it almost makes me gag. I suppose this is how the King of France would have reacted if somebody had put a vegetable on his plate, not that I've been alive quite that long. And yet, like vegetables would have actually been a healthier choice, at least once in a while, I remind myself that this is the blood I've been feeding on for most of a century and it has always kept me strong.

I stop thinking and let instincts take over.

Free of human pretensions, I run through the vegetation like a silent, invisible menace, my senses attuned to the million tiny noises that rise and fall in the wilderness, parts of my brain analyzing the terrain around me for concealment. By the time my target is aware of my presence, it's too late. One long jump is all I need to close the distance, and to sink my teeth into its pulsing neck while I swat aside its last scrabbly attempts to claw at my throat.

I drain his blood until there is nothing left, letting a familiar feeling of partial satiation spread through my cold body. All this barely puts a dent in my thirst, but it clears my mind a little more. I know what I have to do. I have to talk to my father. I know he's still at work. If I can catch him there I might be able to talk to him alone, away from our family, from my mother…..

I look at the lion, its eyes staring blindly at the ferns surrounding his fallen body. It died because I was weak, and easily overcome with bloodlust. Because of the monster I am. I wish I could cry, but even that small consolation is denied to me. I run.

It takes me less than an hour to reach the hospital. It's just outside of town, conveniently located close to the edge of ever-present thick woods. Normally I just drive into the parking lot, if I have any reason to go see Carlisle. However, today I'm on foot, and even though I stopped to wipe my face clean in a stream my cotton pants are ripped to and the subtly stylish leather jacket is all scratched up and, like my top, stained with blood. Drying up, it's darkened enough not to be too noticeable but I probably also stink. I smear some soil on my clothes, as if I'd taken a tumble, maybe off a bike, and waltz through the hospital's reception. The nurses present recognize me and don't say a word as I stride past them. A brief scan of the building confirms my father is in his office, alone. I head there quickly, but slow enough to fool any human eyes. I'm glad. With every passing minute, I feel stronger and surer of myself.

"Father," I whisper as soon as his door closes behind me. I lean against it, as if I need its support.

"Lynn," I hear the concern in his voice; to his keen eyes I must look truly awful. "Are you okay?" Part of his mind wants to ask me what I've done, but he's flooded with relief when he sees the light butterscotch of my iris. I don't have to tell him I have not betrayed his trust.

I sigh and I run into his arms. He wraps them around me protectively, in a way he's rarely needed to do over the years. My independence led me to poor choices, but it also made me strong. Or so I thought.

"You remember Emmett's errors in judgment?"

How could I forget? His mind replies before he can voice his thoughts. I force myself to give him the privacy he deserves.

"You resisted. I can see it in your eyes. I knew you wouldn't let us down… But I'm worried now. How bad was it?"

"The very worst. I… For a few seconds, I couldn't think. I am so ashamed… If I had killed him I couldn't have stopped, I would have had to silence every witness… and yet I wanted to. Father, his blood was all I could think of. It nearly drove away all the safeguards we've worked on for so long… everything we are."

"Hush my daughter," He croons in a voice so soft it might be gossamer. I don't deserve his love but I hold on to it, afraid strange winds will sweep me away if I let go.

I move away from our embrace, embarrassed for this unusual weakness now. I remember how Emmett thinks of me as a dear sister but also his fierce opponent in so many wrestling matches, in which I usually trumped him with my speed and mind-reading… Yes, if he could see me now, powerless and afraid of a tiny human's blood, he would laugh for days.

"What should I do father? I know I should leave but…."

Carlisle just stares at me, no judgment in his eyes; he's only trying to think of the words that could best help me. He sighs.

"You have to do the right thing, Lynn, whatever it takes. Not that it matters, but who is your singer?"

"I'm sorry? My singer?" I cannot resist peeking into his mind.

"Ah, I see. It's a term you learned from the Volturi…. What does it mean?"

"They would say this boy's blood sings to you, calls you to him. It's really unfortunate. You haven't answered my question though…" He adds softly.

"Oh, sorry. My mind is all over the place today. "It's the new guy, the son of the chief of police. Brandon Swan."

"That is bad news, indeed. We have nothing to fear from a country cop, of course, and we know how to disappear quickly, but his wife left him when Brandon was little more than a baby. Everybody in town knows, even though they try not to talk about it when he's around. After only seeing him a few weeks a year he finally has a chance to live with his son and get to know him; he's really happy… Not that he'll ever tell the boy all this, of course." He adds with a chuckle, soon becoming serious again. "If anything happened, it would crush him, break his heart."

"I won't hurt this boy, father. I swear I'll find a way. It won't be easy," hello, Mr. Understatement, nice to see you again, "but I won't let my worst instincts take over again." There is no other way. If I were to fail, I could never forgive myself.

"But father, I don't think I'm strong enough to stay here. Not now."

"You went hunting today, I can tell."

"It helped, but it's not enough… His blood's song, as you call it, is very powerful. I never imagined this would happen… You know I don't want to leave…" I almost wish I could cry again; I'm so frustrated.

"You know how much that will upset your mother." He adds, contrite.

"I know. That's why I should go now. If I see her she will talk me out of it. And I would end up staying, for her." My heart breaks when I think of being away from Esme for a long time.

Carlisle nods. He knows. And he's all too aware that I will miss my parents and the rest of our clan terribly. As different as I am, sometimes, from all of them, I know I can always count on their love, their company; a little warmth means a lot in the cold wasteland of a vampire's existence. Sometimes, when they are busy rekindling their passion, I choose to forget myself in nature instead, or in music and studies, but it doesn't matter. I always love them and I will always need them. We just have different ways of coping with how different we have become from the race we used to belong to.

"Go away for as long as you need to. But please, stay with our cousins in Denali for a bit; at least we will be able to visit you often. It's not that far, for people with plenty of time on their hands."

'You're right father. That's the best solution for now. I knew I should seek your council."

His mind can't hide the pain our decision is causing, but I won't be far and we will meet again soon. Neither of us likes the fact that our hand is being forced, but it's an arrangement we can live with. It's what I have to do, whether I want it or not.

"Take my car. I felt like going for a walk anyways." He says with a shrug and a wink. He spends so much time in close contact with humans he's become the best among us at imitating them. In fact, I think sometimes he truly forgets he's not one of them. I can only imagine how that feels. I really envy him.

"I should talk to Alice…." My phone won't work up there, not until I get a new one. She's always been closest to me, out of all my siblings. To be fair, Emmett would give his life for me, they all would, and Jasper sometimes feels protective, unnecessarily but also endearingly so, around me, catching his girlfriend's mood. She might also ask me to stay, though.

Carlisle doesn't say anything. He knows how close we are and he has decided he can't interfere.

"Alice will understand." He clears his throat and finally says. "I don't think she'll try to stop you. She already knows what you will do, I bet. But we will all miss you, my dearest daughter. I'll tell her you thought of her, before leaving." He doesn't need to add anything else. I know. A mind-reader never has any doubt as to who truly loves her. He slips his car keys into one of my pockets.

I finally rip myself away from him, from the hospital, and from the place I hoped to call home for a long time to step on the gas and drive north like the devil was on my tail

For an instant, the scenery streaming past me, I think of Carlisle's parting words and I wonder what the boy thought of me. In the cafeteria he couldn't stop looking at me, completely uninterested in my sisters. And his mind was closed. How was that possible? Well, I know in class I must have scared him. Nothing ever changes, what other feelings could I ever inspire in a human other than fear or abject terror?