I'm running through the dense, endless forest. I can't see through the trees, and the sun too low to color the sky. It's just barely a pinprick in the far horizon. There is a path under my feet, but it's thin and covered in hazards. I've already cut my face tripping over a root and a stone. But I have to keep going. She's right behind me, I know she is. I can see her eyes.

Her empty void eyes.

And her bitter laugh.

"Run, baby boy..." God, her voice is on the wind. "With your heart racing, it makes you smell even more appetizing."

She's going to kill me, she's going to... to...

"Beau, run!" I skid to a halt, turning in time to see two figures charging at each other.

"Edythe?" Two seconds later I'm in my bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Maybe I should ask Dr. Cullen about sleeping meds. Might stop the stupid dreams, or at least let me feel rested after them. I sit up, hair a cloud around my head.

I swear, if any of these dreams come true, I am suing God for damages.

I trudge to English class, my backpack hanging behind me. I didn't realize I was over twenty minutes late until Mrs. Jameson cleared her throat, barely pulling me from my daze. Her arms are crossed, and her face highly disappointed.

"Thank you for joining us, Beaumont."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. My truck didn't want to start today."

"Don't even worry about it, everyone gets one free tardy from me. Just take your seat, we haven't got all day." I nod and hurry to my desk, noticing right away that Michelle is on the other side of the classroom, Erica settled in her usual spot. She shrugs at me, and we both focus on the lesson. The only thing I pick up on is the reading is Dracula – my bitter laugh making some of the students jump – the rest of the class becomes one muddy mess.

In what feels like a second and yet is just as exhausting as a full day, I sit at the Michelle-free lunch table, everyone but Edythe and I chatting about the weather this weekend. No rain or overcast for 24 hours. And a temperature higher than I've heard since I've come to Forks — a full seventy degrees. I would share their enthusiasm, but God help me, I just can't. Even with the caffeine and sugar, I can't bring myself to keep my eyes open.

Every two seconds, Edythe's eyes are on me and the buzzing makes my eyes water. It hammers, attempting to crack my skull wide. I know Erica just said something to me, but I don't understand what. Once the buzzing vanishes, I speak up.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, are you still good for La Push on Saturday?"

"Oh... well, I gotta talk to my mom first, but she's er... good friends with Billie Black, so it shouldn't be too big of a deal." I pull my hair back and let out a sigh. "If I don't get grounded."

"Because of yesterday? What, you still haven't told her?" Jesse pipes in, his voice squeaking at the end of the questions. I groan.

"I have, but she was practically drooling in her recliner, so I doubt she really understood at the tie. She'll be ready with a lecture when he gets home, I'm sure." Everyone nods and mutters in understanding, but continues to talk about the trip. Even Angel, the normally silent one, is giddy about hearing the Quileute read them The Raven Tales, or at least buying a copy for his own.

A light tap on my shoulder causes me to turn my head. Edythe is smiling at me, her eyes brighter than I've ever seen them. And her skin has a pink hue to it. She leans over and whispers in my ear with her haunting voice.

"May we sit alone today? I want to talk to you."

Why I follow her I really don't know. Maybe it's the yearning for privacy, or even the fact that I genuinely want to be alone with this girl. Either way, I find myself sitting across from her, her eyes on the table just behind me. I peak – it's her family, staring at us, with their bright red eyes. One theory confirmed. How the hell am I the first one to notice this?

"This is different," I say, lacing my hands behind my head. "Kinda nice, but ultimately different. So, what's the cause of this?"

"Well..." She pauses, and then the rest of her words come in a vomit-like rush, "since I'm already going to Hell, I may as well do it thoroughly. Know what I mean?"

"I think I have a clue."

"I was hoping to hear something along the lines of 'not a damn clue'. You being led rather than... bulldozing your way through it. Either is just as dangerous as the other, but still..."

"I honestly consider your hesitance to be open with me as a challenge. You and I both know I'm not stupid, and you know that I know something – bit of fun on my side, really." I chuckle, feeling my phone vibrate like crazy in my pocket. "Our friends seem a little miffed that we left without telling them. I suppose we'll be back over there come tomorrow."

"Just one lunch period together? You so sure about that?" She twirls her copper curls around her finger, eyes downcast, whispering so quietly I barely hear her voice. "I may not give you back." My lip curls up, and I lean forward in my chair. "You seem to like that."

"You got that right. You still owe me answers, after all. For how you saved me, for what your deal is. Nothing logical adds up, and the fantastic is as exciting as it is improbable. But ultimately, you had to trigger the process. Just what brought all this about?"

Her smile slowly fades, and she lets out a soft sigh. "I decided... when I joined the group over there, that I was going to give up. Give up hiding from you, give up controlling myself. On being this good, quiet girl I've forced myself to be — that everyone in my family has made ourselves be." Her voice falters, hands shaking so violently she has to clasp them together. I can't tell what is causing her body, from hands to lips, to tremble so violently. Excitement? Fear? "But the only reason I did any of this... is because I met you."

"Because I'm oh-so special?" I joke, rolling my eyes. "Or because I can see what's under the skin? I mean, other than that, I'm pretty well a nobody."

"... that's where you're wrong. I can see it in your eyes, I can feel it when you're around."

"So, you won't outright tell me anything?"

"I'm not allowed openly say anything, Beau. This is dangerous enough without me just breaking every rule set out for me. Well, anymore. But since you've come to a conclusion, the only thing left is for you to declare it – and see if you're right." Aah, now that makes sense. She's setting out a trail, one that I'm following faithfully. Because she's glad I noticed something. She's happy I'm not in the dark.

She wants me to know what she is.

"I know being friends with me... probably wasn't a consideration of yours in the beginning. And I won't lie, us being even acquaintances won't be good for you. I won't be good for you."

"You're a person, not a cigarette."

"This isn't the time for jokes!" She snarls, glaring at me. Like an animal. Something on my face bothers her. Her anger falls in a second, and she takes in slow breaths to calm himself. "I... I'm sorry, I'm not... I'm not like this. Not usually."

"You know, I've heard that before." I start braiding a small piece of my hair absently.

"... what are you thinking?"

I meet her eyes, sorrow lingering, and speak honestly. "That I definitely I know what you are now."

"And what would that be?" She asks with a locked jaw and uneasy eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know..." I'm not ready to admit it, not aloud. I want to learn more, what to study more. Make sure I understand what I'm getting into before I take this one step further. I just hope she'll say 'yes'.

"You can't just leave me hanging like this, Beau..."

"I'm afraid you're stuck with the 'no', Edythe." She winces, looking like I just slapped her in the face. Not knowing what I am thinking seems to pain her more than anything, making me wonder just how many layers there are to her.

"Do you have any idea how frustrating this is?"

"Gotta say no," my eyes narrow and I give my head a slight tilt, "But considering I'm talking to the one person in this school that can be equal parts mysterious and obvious in a manner that is so curious that they have me enraptured in every aspect of them, from the casual to the impossible, I think – just think – I might have an inkling of what you're feeling."

"Wh – you've got quite the mouth on you, you know that?"

"A mouth? Ha, maybe. Honest to a fault, my dad used to say. Never got caught in a lie because of that."

She giggles, taking a sip from her bottle. There is a faint whiff of iron in the air. "Hmm?" Her eyes flick over my shoulder, and she lets snorts out a laugh. "Might wanna text our friends back at the table."

"What?"

"Erica seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you — she's debating if she should break up our little conversation."

"Well, that's awful sweet of her. But I doubt she'd do that." I tighten the braid, wanting it to stay in place.

"I don't. I told you, most people are easy to read."

"Pssh. Everyone but me, eh?"

"Yes. Everyone but you." Her mood shifts, she looks down at her tray. "I still haven't figured that one out..." Her eyes follow my movements as I keep picking at my food, my annoyance slowly fading into indifference. "You aren't hungry?"

"Nah, not really. I'm too damn tired to keep food in my mouth. What about you?"

"No, I'm not." Her eyes flick to the side and her lip curls, like someone enjoying a private joke with themselves. "But you should eat something." She chides, wagging her finger at me.

"Alright, Mom."

"Ooh, harsh." She scratches her arm, tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek. Why is everything she does so cute? "Better to be the Mom Friend than the hungry one, though."

"I suppose." I eat more, chewing slowly, leaving him in silence. Edythe clears her throat.

"... you're not very talkative."

"I slept 4 hours last night."

"That's concerning. Severely."

"You're not the only one with weirdness, Edythe. Sleeping is just as exhausting as being awake. So, I stay up until I can't function, and flop on the bed." I shrug, puffing my cheeks out. "And don't you dare Mom Friend me over that."

"If you don't start sleeping, I'll come to your house and tie you up." Edythe challenges, leaning in. I smirk.

"Oh, will you?"

"Stop being nasty!" She playfully snaps, laughing softly. My hand goes to my chest, feeling my heart quicken in pace. I take in the pink on her soft, hollow cheeks, and the way she worries her bottom lip with her teeth. The way her hair falls in front of her face. If I were brave, I'd tuck it behind her ear. But I'm not... so I change the subject.

"Was this worth it, then? Pulling us from the crowd for a bit?"

She nods her head, her lower lip vanishing into her mouth. With a pop, she looks at me with an open mouth and lifts a finger. Then she closes her mouth and shakes her head. Stop staring at her mouth, you fucking creep. I meet her eyes.

"I want to talk to you more about..." she lowers her voice, "about what you know I am. But not here. May I come over tonight, after you've retired for the evening?"

"Like, once I'm in my room? You really expect my mom to let you in the house in the middle of the night? Charlie's chill, but she isn't the kind to leave two 18-year-olds in a room together."

"How about this — you tell me if I can come over and leave the rest to me. Deal?"

"Be in and out of the house by nine, and we got a deal. I need to wash my hair." I flip the dark frizzles over my shoulder dramatically.

"Sounds fair. And uh... since you won't tell me your theory, allow me to say one thing that may add to it." Oh boy, here we go. "You like to draw, but I see your main focus is music. At least, judging by your fingers. Callouses on the fingertips rather than where the pencil rests. If I had a theme song, it would be the Dies Irea."

Now that is cheesy, but informative. The Dies Irea is a common motif in film scores, a four-note run that often signifies something bad is going to happen – a murder, an accident. More often than not, someone dies. It's plain to me that Edythe considers herself a harbinger of death. Maybe even homicidal... dangerous. Which is pretty well obvious, considering she can lift vans.

Someone to avoid. But with every cell in my body, I want, I need, to understand her. Her condition. Everything about Edythe fascinates me. I just... have this instinct to keep her close.

And from the way her eyes now wander over me like a hungry wolf, I can guess that I fascinate her as well. My anxiety spikes, my cheeks light up. She licks her lower lip, and I finally look away from her to see why my phone is buzzing like crazy.

The cafeteria is almost empty.

"Shit, we're going to be late!" I gather my belongings in a rush, downing what was left of my lemonade and turning toward the door. Then I paused, looking over my shoulder. "You coming, lab partner?"

"Nah, not today." Standing, she flattens her shirt back into proper place. "My sister believes it's healthy to ditch class every so often. And since I'm an adult, she can't stop me." She winks, snapping his fingers.

"I'll see you later, then. Knowing me, I'll face plant half-way there."

I wave goodbye over my shoulder as I run to the door, first bell adding to my speed. I glance behind me, confused that she hasn't moved even an inch, and jog to class. As I panic my way there, the entire discussion plays over and over in my head. It thrills me. We're actually bonding over this.

I get lucky; Dr. Molina isn't in the room yet. I settle quickly into my seat, aware that both Michelle and Angel are staring at me. Michelle looks resentful, Angel surprised. And both... slightly awed. I chance a wave as Dr. Molina comes in, calling the class to order. She juggles a few small cardboard boxes in her arms, ordering Michelle and another girl to pass out the contents. Then her hands clap together.

"Okay, kids, I want you all to take one piece from each box," she says, producing a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of her lab jacket. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against her wrists sends an ominous shock down my spine.

"The first should be an indicator card," she continues, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator -" she holds up something that looks like a nearly toothless hair pick "- and the third is a sterile micro-lancet. " Finally, there is a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb is invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped two objects ago.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you. " She starts at Angel's table, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. "Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet... " She takes his hand and stabs the spike into the tip of Angel's middle finger. Instantly I cover my nose, my breathing quickens.

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs. " She squeezes his finger till the blood flows, and my stomach convulses. I gag, I clamp my eyes shut. I can almost hear the snap of people's necks turning toward me.

"And then apply it to the card," she finishes, somehow being louder than the ringing in my ears. But it overtakes her voice, and while she continues to give the why's and how's of the lesson, I feel my legs slowly become jelly, the bottoms of my feet slacking on the floor. I can't breathe without the awful smell assaulting my nose, my lungs. I hide my face in my arms, hoping the smells on my clothes can overpower the stench of blood.

I breathe slowly through my mouth, pressing my cheek against the icy surface of the tabletop. Stay calm, Beau. Stay calm...

"Beaumont?" I hear Dr. Molina over my shoulder, the concern palpable.

"Nurse... please..."

"I need a student to take Mister Swan to the nurse's office; now!"

I feel a soft hand on my back, and know right away who it is.

"Can you walk?" Angel asks. I nod. So long as I get out of here, I'll crawl.

Almost tenderly, he wraps his arm around my waist and drapes mine around his neck. It's an awkward position, since I'm half a foot over his head, but we make it work. One step at a time, we creep across campus. I keep my eyes on the floor, watching the transition from tile to concrete, to grass. It's when I know we're a good distance from Dr. Molina's eyes that I clear my throat. My free hand goes straight to my head.

"Beau?"

"Can we... sit? Just for a second?" He guides me down to the curb, my feet on the asphalt lot. I slump over on my side, resting on the damp sidewalk. It's hard and cold, but right now that's what I need. I close my eyes, soothing a bit of the pressure behind them.

"Mmm... you're so pale, Beau." Angel whispers, squeezing my shoulder. "Well, paler than usual." I can't help but cough out a chuckle at that.

"Beau?" a different voice calls from the distance.

What? No, she left. I have to be imagining her voice.

"What's wrong — is he hurt?" Her voice is closer, cracking, and has a tinge to it. She's here alright. Can't imagine those little details, much as I try. I squeeze my eyes tight and hope to die. Or, at least, not hurl on everyone. Then death would be my only choice.

"We were blood typing, and he just got so sick... I think he fainted." Angel's voice seems slightly further away, and I hear footsteps.

"Beau?" Edythe's voice is right beside me, and her cold makes me shiver. "Can you hear me?"

"No." I groan, curling up tighter. "Beaumont can't come to the phone right now."

"I was taking him to the nurse," Angel says, now sounding closer to Edythe. "But he asked to stop."

"Tell Dr. Molina I took him the rest of the way. He's in excellent hands, I promise."

"Edythe, he's huge. Are you sure you don't want some help?"

"I think I got this." I feel myself being pulled onto Edythe's back, my legs just hanging behind her like a veil train. She grunts, coldness hitting my chest. "I don't got this." She sets me back down, and I groan.

"Get a wagon..." I mutter.

"What's gonna work?" Angel leads. I feel his hands grasp my ankles as Edythe lifts my upper body. If I were able to think without wanting to hurl, I'd congratulate her on actually seeming human.

"Nooo..." My grumbled protests are met with a vanishing sidewalk and the feeling of my body hanging in the air. I open my eyes, looking up at Edythe's face as she follows Angel's lead to the nurses office. "I was fine on the concrete..."

"You look awful," she says, a brow raised. "You've got a stick in your hair."

"It's a new fashion statement." I grunt, closing my eyes again. "Please walk slower... my stomach."

Their pace changes instantly.

"So, blood makes you faint? And it wasn't even your own. Wow." The idea seems to entertain her, and I bite my tongue in both ways to keep from losing my lunch on her face. Though at the moment, the idea is funny.

Warmth brushes over us. Somehow, Angel opened the office door with his foot, which would be impressive if I weren't a rag-doll right now.

There's a soft gasp, and the secretary exclaims. "Oh, my!"

"He fainted during the blood typing lesson. Is the nurse in?" Edythe moves again, and the next sensation change is from her wintry body to the slight chill of a vinyl cot mattress – with my calves hanging over the edge. I open my eyes, spotting her, Angel, and the grandfatherly nurse standing by a medicine cabinet.

"There's always one," he says with a sage nod. Edythe, meanwhile, stifles a snicker. When he looks away to write on his board, I flip her off. "Just lay down for a while, bucko. It'll pass."

"Thank you," I sigh, nausea melting away.

"I'll go let Dr. Molina know you made it safely. Thanks again, Edythe." Angel says with a look of pure gratitude. "You're a life saver."

"It's no problem at all, man. See ya later!"

Angel makes his way out the door, and the nurse starts tapping on his clipboard.

"Is this common for you?"

"Yeah... ever since I was a kid." She doesn't fight this snort down. "Some kind of vasovagal whatever. My dad wasn't huge on getting me to the doctor, so it never got diagnosed. Same with my meat allergy, 'til Mom showed up in Phoenix with a big iron on her hip." I snicker at the stupid joke, my stomach doing flips.

"I see. Well, that explains why I don't have notes on that. At least I can add them now. Miss Cullen, you can go back to class."

"I was told to stay with him. It'll be alright. My sister taught me how to deal with this."

"I suppose... I have to go fill some forms for you," the nurse says to me with a soft smile. "I'll be right back." He bustles from the room, and Edythe leans against the wall, arms crossed.

"He doesn't trust me," she says in a sing-song way. "You gonna be okay?"

I groan, waving a hand. "You were right. Or, well, your sister was right. Ditching is healthy."

"Better than almost passing out...you scared me for a moment there." She rubs the back of her neck, eyes downcast. "I thought Angel was taking your corpse to the office. Hell, I've seen actual corpses with more color than you."

"Ha..."

"I thought I'd have to don a trench coat and avenge your murder."

"You're so fucking weird, Edythe..."

"And Angel... I'm amazed that he let me help. He's still on the fence about me. Though... you've been helping a lot with that."

"You can't possibly know how he feels. He hasn't said a sour word about you." I retort.

"He doesn't have to. Every time I sit by you, he's scared that I'll do something. He's afraid of me, in a way." She laughs at that, but there's no trace of amusement. I look at her. "It honestly hurts a bit, since he always acts so nice at the table."

"Edythe, he isn't scared of you."

"Yes, he is." Her face falls, I can see her heart sinking to her shoes. "They all are. Everyone but you, I think. I can only guess." Maybe, in some weird way, she really knows how people feel about her. What they're thinking. That would make them 'easy to read'. But then what makes me so different?

Actually...

"How did you see us? You said you were going home." I can breathe normally now, and I even sit up, with my back pressed firmly against the wall.

"I was listening to a CD in my car, letting the interior warm up a bit." Such a normal answer, it takes me off guard for a second.

The door swings open, and the nurse pokes his head in. "We've got another one," he looks at the two of us. "Mr. Swan, can you move?"

I hop off the cot and nod, still a little wobbly. Edythe's hand grasps mine tight, trembling slightly. I look down at her, and the panic in her dark eyes inform me of the situation before the scent reaches my nose.

I pull her out of the room, a sick smell wafting past us as we trade places with the nurse and the sick student. We let the door close behind us before looking at each other again.

"How did you...?"

"I smelled the blood," I try to cough the smell from my lungs. "And from your face, you could too. Figured I'd save us both the trouble." She pulls back, now eyeing me suspiciously. "What?"

"People can't smell blood."

"Well, I can. I always have. It's disgusting, it makes me ill. It smells like rust and salt."

She stares at me with an unfathomable expression.

"Edythe?"

"It's nothing..." She looks up expectantly, and Erica enters the office. She smiles, looking from me to Edythe, excited that I didn't die.

"You're alive! Thank goodness. Angel was so worried."

"I'll be okay, so long as I don't go back. I'd just have to U-turn."

"Haha! Well, you'll be happy to know that the bell rang. Last period is starting, and mine is in here."

"Final... gym. Dammit!"

Erica and Edythe exchange a look of sympathy before Erica excuses herself to her student council duties.

"Hey," Edythe leans down. "I can get you out of gym. Just sit over there and look pale." She points to the office couch and I nod. Easy said, easy done. I flop on a cushion, letting myself hang off the arm, eyes closed.

Two footfalls and a cleared throat later, Edythe gets the secretary's attention.

"Mr. Cope?"

"Yes?"

"Beau has gym this hour, but I don't think he's quite up to snuff. Can you call Coach Clapp and let him know he's going home early? I'll take him myself." Her voice, like melted honey, is enough to make my breath catch in my throat. And knowing her, those eyes must overwhelm the poor man. All without her meaning to, she could likely talk herself out of a death sentence.

"Do you need an excuse, too, Edythe?"

"No, I already have one. Thank you, though, Mr. Cope."

"Okay, consider it taken care of. You feel better soon, Beaumont!"

Charlie is waiting for us at the door, guiding me inside swiftly. I can only assume Mr. Cope called her when I left the nurse's office. she thanks Edythe before promptly locking the door in her face. I snicker quietly. My amusement vanishes when Charlie cups my cheeks.

A familiar odor reaches my nose, and my stomach lurches.

"How're you feeling, Bo-boy? The guy said you were still pretty pale." In truth, I feel like I could lie down and not move for an hour. Which wouldn't be so bad, actually.

"I just want to go to bed... please, Ma."

"I've got you, honey." She takes me by the arm, and I cling to her, my head starting to spin again. I was fine, or so I thought. But something here has the faint copper-rust scent on it. That's when I notice the dark stain carefully hidden by Charlie's jacket, and my knees give out.

I don't hear her open my door, but I feel the softness of my comforter and relax instantly.

"I'll get you some water, you just rest, honey."

I'm asleep before she returns.

And I'm awakened by the sound of my window shutting.

"Beau... oh, he's asleep. Heh, cute." I hear Edythe walk around, her feet patting lightly on the wooden floor. As soon as I can move, I'm gonna hound her for calling me cute. Papers shuffle, her breathing catches. "He really does... doesn't he realize the danger? ...but I can't stop him. Not now. Maybe I should go..."

Even with my stomach back in knots, I sit up and look at him with my sleepy eyes.

"Should I call the police?" I say in a whisper, instantly regretting opening my eyes. I groan and fall back. A cool hand guides me down to the pillows, robbing me of my dramatic effect. "Damn you..."

"Too late for that. What happened this time? I thought you were ready to run a marathon."

"Charlie... smells like blood."

"Well, she is a cop, I'm sure there was an accident or something." She plays it off like it's nothing. "I still can't believe you react this way."

"Blood is supposed to be inside you."

"Pfft, well, I can't argue with that logic. But God, Beau, a pricked finger won't draw hardly anything."

"Shut up..." The bed creaks beside me, I can feel the cold from her body on my bare arm. I curl closer to her, and she lays her hand on my shoulder tenderly.

After a moment of silence, she sighs. "Sorry for uh... well, breaking in. I'm still not over how dead you looked when I came across you." Her tone is somber again, and I finally recognize the hidden meaning in it. Embarrassment.

"Just don't do it again. Or at least knock. I could have been lying here naked for all you know."

"..."

"... Edythe?"

"What? Oh, sorry. Just enjoying the mental image."

"You ass."

"Only on Fridays."

We lay silent again. I tease the thought of reaching over and touching her face, stopping myself before the impulse hits my arm. Instead, Edythe reaches up and plays with the braid still hanging by my ear. I shiver, her fingers like ice.

"You have beautiful eyes... I never noticed." She smiles, her dark eyes growing soft. "Like the sky after a storm."

"And yours are like droplets of blood on fresh snow."

"That's pretty poetic for the man with a D in English." She teases, prodding my chest. I stick my tongue out and gently push on her shoulder. She rolls off the bed, landing in the floor without a sound. "Now that was rude," she accuses from the floor.

"Next is the window, babe." I stand and stretch, popping my back. I see Edythe, sitting with her legs crossed at the foot of my bed. She's smiling, there's a blush of pink on her cheeks. I lean forward and gently boop her on the nose.

"You get your weirdness from Charlie or your father?" She jokes, tilting his head to the side. Weird to bring up my parents when this is supposed to be her interrogation. But it isn't like we both don't already know the truth. I play along.

"Neither. I cultivated it all on my own." I walk around, grabbing my backpack to take the books out and organize what homework I gathered during the day. For once. Edythe follows, her hands behind her back.

"So, what is your father like?"

"He's ... nice." That's just cheating. "Eccentric. He's got this weird sense of humor, and a strong sense of what's right and wrong. He's got eclectic interests, and a lot of expectations for his only child. Some that are pretty hard to reach, but that's another story."

"He sounds interesting." I glance away, and she narrows her eyes. There is a solid minute of silence before she speaks again. " And... how old are you, Beau?"

"Eighteen. Why? Is my baby-face that bad?"

"N-no, it's not that. You don't even have a baby-face. It's just... you don't seem eighteen is all. Though that is older than I expected." She says something under his voice, his lips scowling for a split second.

"You're not the first person to say that. My dad used to joke that I was older than him, but that's just because I'm usually quiet. Keep to myself. I prefer it that way." I settle in my desk chair, my fingers toying with a pen.

"And... why do you think he married Philippa?"

"I can't believe you remember her... Okay, if I'm older than 18, then he is younger than 37. He felt things were getting dull, and Philippa is what he needs. She's a little younger than him, and her adventurous attitude pulled him from a bit of a depression. It makes me glad that he's found someone."

"Do you approve?" she asks, leaning against the desk.

"I don't need to. He's my father, he knows what's best for him. Besides, it's his life, not mine. He doesn't need my approval."

"That's awfully generous. I wonder... would he extend the same courtesy to you? No matter who you wound up with?"

"Probably. I mean, he has set hard limits for me in other ways, but never mentioned dating. I don't think he ever saw me dating. Might have a conniption if I bring home, like, a felon."

"No one too scary then," she hisses, looking away. "Damn."

"Depends on your definition of scary, I guess."

"Think I could be scary?" She stares at me, a brow raised, and her lip curled into a faint smile.

"If you wanted to, but you'd have to practice. You're as terrifying as a box of kittens."

"Is that so?" Her face goes blank, every feature rock hard, and serious. She crouches, crawling forward until her nose an inch from mine. A feeling in my gut tells me not to test the girl who can lift vans. I enjoy ignoring that feeling.

"Indeed," I lean in, my eyes lingering on her lips. "It's my turn to ask questions."

"What do you want to know?" She speaks slowly, cautiously, sitting back on her heels.

"Are you related to Dr. Cullen?"

"No."

"So why do you all say she's your sister?"

"She... feels like one. At least for Jasmine and I. For the others, she's more of a maternal figure. She took us all in at our worst times."

"Are any of you related? In any way?"

"If we share any ancestry, it's millennia back."

"And your—" I hesitate for a moment, thinking about how sore this subject may be, and ask anyway, like an idiot, "your real parents?"

"They died many years ago." Her tone is matter-of-fact, her face flat. This subject is nothing to her. At least, not anymore. "Illness; nearly killed me too."

"I'm so sorry..."

"It's alright. I really don't remember them, to be honest. Too far back for my brain to keep."

"Oh? How far?" She smirks, biting her lip in consideration.

"Longer than I want to say."

"I'm guessing you were a little kid, then." She shakes her head.

"Sometimes I wish it was back then, my life would be drastically different. I may be under a proper headstone, if so." Edythe's hands convulse. She raises one, watching it tremble like it isn't hers. "... but then I never would have met my new family, I never would have met you. Both would be tragedies in their own right."

Good grief, Edythe. So melodramatic, and yet... I feel the same way.

"Why can't you tell me what you are?" I cut to the chase, not wanting to delay with mundane questions any further. Edythe opens his mouth, then closes it. She rubs her neck, eyes closed tight.

"Because... I'm not allowed."

"You said that before. Why aren't you allowed?"

"I don't really know. At least, not the actual reasons. It's just what I was told, a long time ago, and it stuck with me. You don't tell humans, they cannot know. They don't matter." She hisses through her teeth. "Frankly, I just want to grab you by the shirt and scream it at the top of my lungs. But this habit is impossible for me to break."

"... but you admit that..." Oh God, I'm finally going to say it! "You are not human? At all. Just you."

Edythe takes a breath and nods. "I'm not. None of us are. Not Clarice, not Roland, not Emma. No one. But you already knew that, didn't you? You've got it all in that strange brain of yours, locked up beyond my reach. Such a strange man." She reaches over, pushing a lock of hair from my face. "What are you doing to me?" I close my eyes, hoping. But when they open, she's gone — my window is wide open, the curtains billowing in the breeze.

God damnit!