Deştepta
Pairing: E/B endgame
Rating: It's about a goddamn succubus, do you have to ask?
Setting: College AU vaguely following the Twilight storyline
All standard disclaimers apply
The door to the Denali Coven's lodge opens before Edward reaches it. He tenses, bracing for a sarcastic comment from Tanya or Kate, but it's only Carmen. She waves him inside, and he knows by the lack of surprise on her face that someone, probably Alice, must have warned their cousins he was on his way.
He ducks inside, out of the drumming rain. Most people in the lower 48 don't believe Alaska has a summer, but it does and he's witnessing its end. Very soon the rain will turn once more to snow, but for now he drips from head to toe on the slate entryway of the sprawling lodge.
"Take off your shoes," Carmen says with unruffled calm that equals Carlisle's. "Irina stopped by your place and picked up some clothes for you—they're in the guest room at the end of the hallway."
"Thank you." He squeezes her hand and kisses both her cheeks in greeting as she always insists on.
"Oh!" Carmen startles, drawing back.
Edward jerks away, realizing his mistake an instant too late as he sees her surprise written both on her face and in her mind.
"You're warm."
He knows. Bella's warmth burns like a brand on his cheeks and jaw, along the red line of his mouth, and it's taking longer to fade this time. "I can't help it." What else can he say? He didn't do this on purpose. He'd prefer if it never happened at all, in fact, both her delicious warmth and the act he committed to attain it.
Carmen raises her hand to touch his cheek, but he draws back another step. He can't handle that right now—not her touch and not the curiosity in her eyes.
"I see we do have a lot to talk about." She lets her hand fall as easily as she lets the subject drop, though Edward can see the questions still brimming in her eyes. "Take your time getting settled. We're ready to listen when you're ready to talk."
Edward doesn't know if he'll ever be ready to talk about what happened to him back home. He dashes up the stairs as fast as he can, leaving very few drips on the rustic wooden floor, and he's in the shower before anyone else can bother him. Hot water sluices over him, hot enough that he imagines he can no longer feel the heat of Bella's fire lingering in his skin. It's a lie, of course—she burns so sweetly, her heat sinking into him, inhabiting his flesh in a way hot water and sunlight cannot. Not since he became a monster. He didn't even remember what it felt like to bask in sunlight that truly heated his insides, but Bella's fire brings back the memory of this sensation he'd long forgotten. She's the perfection of a golden summer evening, a bonfire on the lakeshore against a backdrop of soft velvet night.
But she's more than that, too—she's a fire the child he used to be never knew existed, flaming hot and sweet under the surface, under her clothing, so sinfully dangerous. She broke his willpower as easily as he might snap a twig, and with as little care. Does she have any idea what she does to him? The agony of wanting and not wanting—or, he corrects himself, of wanting something he knows can't possibly be good for him? She's a predator. So is he. He knows how this works. He can never forget that he is a danger to every human he meets because of what he is. Bella may not drink blood, but she's dangerous in her own way. She must be. Logic dictates this is so.
But logic does not dictate how it felt when the desperate need inside him took over, the scent of her inner flame raging like a forest fire, breaking his will from more than a mile away. He was on her before he realized blood was flowing, her fire calling to the man in him far louder than the monster. If there had been no blood at all and the monster had remained dormant, he might not have been able to stop himself from stripping them both bare and pressing inside her like she begged him to do. As it stood, her blood was a distraction he thinks he's probably grateful for. He's used to battling this demon when it rears its ugly head, the terrible thing he's become, and he was able to use that experience to fight back both desires...to a point. Their encounter wasn't a total victory, but it wasn't a total loss, either. He licked and sucked at her wounds, yes, but he kept from biting her by the thinnest thread. And he sated himself in the slippery-slick heat between her legs, assaulting his mouth and his senses with her taste, the touch of her fire-sweet flesh, but he remained fully clothed. There was no penetration. These lines are arbitrarily drawn but vital to his sanity in this moment and he clings to them like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. He may be about to go under, but he hasn't yet. He's still fighting.
He soaps and scrubs his skin violently, aware even under the hot water of every place he burns from her touch. It feels so incredibly good, and he's so incredibly angry at her because of it. He didn't ask for any of this. All he wanted was to attend a small university with his family, shun the other students, and live his life as he always has—on the margins of everyone's world. The margins of humanity, the margins of the student body, even the margins of his family. He doesn't belong fully with anyone, and he's lived long enough to accept this about himself, even embrace it. He's what kids today call a loner. There's nothing wrong with that. He finds peace in it, in fact. All he wants is to be left to the role that's been allotted to him.
But Bella refuses to do that. Since their mortifying first meeting in the wolves' frat house she's popped up everywhere and he's sick of it. Thankfully she can't be in his dreams since vampires don't sleep, but she's in his daydreams, almost his every waking thought. On his campus, in his classes, and now in his home. How long will that couch she reclined on continue to smell like her? How long will the memory of her blood and fire linger in the woods behind his house?
What was she doing out there in the first place? Why did Alice insist on bringing her home like a little lost puppy? She's not a new project for Alice or a new child for Esme. She doesn't need to be saved. She's the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing, he knows she is, and he's afraid his family might be falling for it. A succubus, if that is in fact what she is, is not a pet. Those idiot humans who keep chimpanzees and tigers in their houses aren't even that stupid.
He turns off the water angrily, almost ripping the spigot from the wall in his frustration. He's hard again just thinking about her, and his length throbs painfully between his legs, bobbing as he shifts, heavy and insistent. He's never been the sort of man who touches himself—his father and the preacher at their church both insisted this was a sin, something upright men did not do. He and Carlisle have never discussed it—Edward respects the man far too much to even consider asking. So he continues just as he always has, rigid in this belief. The hard, red, swollen organ between his legs is just a remnant of his human life, a reminder of what might have been but is no longer a possibility. It was meant to father children on a wife, which he now will never do, so there's no point in doing anything but ignoring it. The pressure and aching pain will die down eventually. It always does.
Except it doesn't. Because thoughts of Bella never leave his head, and so his...member...to his extreme discomfort remains swollen and aching, the slit dripping fluid, which is incredibly uncomfortable inside his clothing after he dresses. He flings himself down on the bed in the Denalis' guest room, staring out the window at the expanse of uneven ground behind the lodge framed by thick conifer-dominant forest. He tells himself he won't think about her—he refuses.
But he's not in control of what his mind does right now. No matter how much he wants to think about something else, anything else, his mouth burns with the memory of her taste on his tongue, her cries sharp and sweet on the rain-drenched air.
He's been to medical school. Twice. He's manipulated medical models, seen plenty of diagrams and photographs and documentary footage, as well as both donated cadavers and living volunteers. Intellectually, he knows female bodies better than the most dedicated libertine. But none of that prepared him for how it would feel when he had one under him, how the sight of her flesh, flushed hot with desire, would affect him. He nearly tore her tiny shorts from her body to get beneath them, and the sight when his gripping hands clutched her slim thighs and pulled them open was nothing medical school could ever have prepared him for. The dispassionate demonstration of a gynecological exam is one thing. Bella panting beneath him was something else entirely. His jaw clenches as the tent in his dark wash jeans becomes unbearable. His penis twitches, his entire body spasms, and, feeling like he's toying with whatever remnant of a soul may be left to him, he slowly twists the button through the buttonhole and drags down the zipper.
His boxer briefs cup and constrict him; usually it's a comforting feeling but right now it's excruciating. He pulls his rigid length through the opening, red and swollen as it pops free. Though this is part of his own body and as familiar as the back of his hand, he feels extremely awkward as he grips the base. The slit leaks steadily, a viscous clear fluid that eases the friction as he slowly strokes his hand up his penis. Bella's slickness was erotic in the extreme to him, but this is not. His hand clenches hard at the base of his shaft at the memory of how she glistened, wet and soft between her legs, a bright waterfall of vivid colors, needy red and rosy pinks. He slid his hands under her and lifted her core to his mouth to devour because he needed the taste of her life on his tongue, needed to swallow her sweetness down like blood, the blood he refused to let himself take from her. This compromise may well have saved her life but it left him in his current state, his own personal hell where every moment he throbs for her, for the pleasure he knows he could have if he dared take it.
He can't. He refuses. He's better than that. She can do as she pleases, as so many young people do these days, but she can't do it with him. He was raised to believe sex happens only after courtship and marriage, and he will not waver from this. Not for anyone, and especially not for a little succubus who likes to toy with dangerous men as if they were Ken dolls. Sam and the other wolves may be willing to play that game with her, but Edward is not.
He's apparently not above this, however. Not when he can't manage to banish her from his head. His hand draws slowly up his shaft toward the tender, swollen head. He can't rid his mind of the sight of her blissed-out face, the scent of her hot and fierce on the rain-soaked air, how her taste melted like sugar on his tongue. He hasn't tasted anything other than blood in so long, but Bella...when he drew his tongue through the lush sweetness of her, the taste nearly drove him insane. Liquid honey, melting-sweet, followed by the fiery bite of spice exploding through his senses. He lapped and lapped at her, settled his mouth at the sweetest spot where her moisture flowed and sucked greedily, his tongue slipping inside her without his conscious decision to do so. The moan that escaped her when he did so was nearly his undoing. It nearly is again, his testicles tightening within his underclothes, his length hardening even further as his sticky palm glides over the head with a little twist that almost feels natural. He pauses, and allows the slick pad of his thumb to trace the head and slide along the incredibly sensitive slit—it's almost too sensitive to touch, the dirty, forbidden pleasure so close to pain. This is a part of his anatomy he never chooses to dwell on, does not touch other than to wash. It's so tender now, unused to this attention. Without his bidding his mind wonders what her tongue would feel like there, just what the sensation would be if she knelt and took him in her mouth as he's taken her, as he's seen in the fantasies of almost every man who encounters her. He knows with intimate detail the texture of her tongue against his, slick but ever so slightly rough. He imagines those tiny little tastebuds drawn with agonizing slowness just here, below the head of his penis, along the too-tender slit, and…
With an involuntary jerk of his hips, a pump of his shaft inside his fist, he comes sharply. His testicles contract and throb and pulses of aching sensation shoot seminal fluid in jerking streaks up his belly, dark stains appearing on his shirt. It feels incredible—a flowing release of physical tension as his body pushes the fluid from him, spurting from the tiny hole. It overpowers him for long moments, basking in the feeling of release, of the chemicals exploding in his brain as he achieves the self-pleasure he's always denied himself. The rush is exquisite, but followed immediately by a blanket of intense, choking guilt. He's better than this. He doesn't believe in self-abuse.
But it feels so good, a dark whisper in the back of his mind hisses. Not as good as when he orgasmed spontaneously with Bella's blood and slick arousal combined on his tongue, but still this feeling is indescribably delicious. It's a blinding rush of animal instinct and pleasure, purely physical, and though he knows exactly what's happening inside his brain and body when it occurs, that knowledge doesn't lessen the experience. He breathes with soft, shallow pants despite no need for oxygen, wallowing in both afterglow and deepening guilt, prepared to rise and wash the evidence of his shame and failure away.
But his erection refuses to fade. He's still hard and aching, and now sticky and confused as well. His hand glides along the rigid length, twitchy and almost painful post-orgasm. It's too sensitive to continue, even if he wanted to. Why won't he soften? He knows perfectly well what's supposed to happen; being virgin doesn't mean he's clueless about how his body is supposed to work. His just refuses to comply with biology. The deep red color remains and the aching throb refuses to subside. He jerks spasmodically when he touches the aching shaft, painful but still relentlessly...hungry.
Hunger was how Bella described her sex drive, and suddenly Edward understands, though he does not want to. He's always kept his sexual urges under control without issue. No one has ever stirred him enough to wake this relentless hunger.
Until now. It's like the thirst of the vampire, incessant and all-consuming, but while any blood will soothe the monster, this hunger burns for only one person. Edward knows now that if he tries to assuage it with his own hands or another woman he might find limited, momentary success, but only Bella can truly sate him now. And he's fairly sure he hates her for it. His fist squeezes hard at the base of his erection, desperately seeking some end to this torture. He just wants everything to be the way it was before, when he had complete control over the man in him and only had to worry about the monster. He attempts to remember the advice he and his friends shared in whispered conversations in the schoolyard as teens, tips for willing away an unwanted erection, since they had all been lectured never to touch it. He tries thinking of dead puppies, but to a vampire who thrives on animal blood this isn't much of a deterrent. Next he tries picturing the most unattractive person he knows naked, and...that might just do it. His mind conjures an image of Aro Volturi laughing that high, insane cackle while stalking close, a soft, wrinkly penis dangling between his legs. His erection immediately begins to deflate, but even as it does another thought slams into him, hard and unwelcome, one that instantly has his length soft and his body clenched with tension.
Aro. Aro and the other Volturi.
They can't ever know about Bella.
The instant his mind makes this link, he knows it as surely as he knows his own name. No matter how dangerous a wildcard he believes Bella is, no matter how angry she makes him, she doesn't deserve the fate that will befall her if the Volturi get their hands on her. They collect powerful gifts, and while Bella is no vampire, her gift is both potent and potentially dangerous. Her fire has so far proven physically harmless to Edward but fire is a vampire's only true weakness. The Volturi could very well perceive a supernatural being with a heart of flame as a threat. Moreover, the power she wields over humans, her ability to manipulate their desire, is something the Volturi would desperately crave to control. Forget Heidi and the other fishers; Bella could lure masses of innocent humans to the vampires' doorstep without even trying. Edward knows so little about what she is and how her power functions, but he knows this for sure. And it wouldn't matter if Bella didn't want to. No one denies the Volturi—in the end, everyone either complies or disappears. The Guard sees to that.
This thought more than any others Edward has dwelt on during his long run to Alaska decides him. He has a course now, a purpose. He still stubbornly insists that he does not like Bella one bit, and he loathes what she does to him, his lack of control around her. But for her sake, her safety, he now has to learn everything he possibly can about who and what she is, even the things she herself may not know or understand. Alice cannot be persuaded once she sets her mind to something, which means trying to distance the family from Bella now is futile. Instead he has to put his energy toward keeping them all safe. The first step to doing so is learning all he can.
Resolved, Edward changes his clothes and cleans up again. Vampires do not sleep and therefore do not experience nocturnal emissions, so he's somewhat surprised to find that his ejaculate is clear, not milky white. He scrubs it away vigorously. Since he assumes his vampire body has ceased producing sperm, he guesses it makes sense. Yet another thing he would never, never ask Carlisle or his brothers.
On his way down the stairs to look for Eleazar to harass with questions, Edward texts Alice. He's sworn many times over the past week that he's not speaking to her, but things have now changed. He needs information more than he needs the little dignity he might gain by keeping that promise to himself.
- Who was the vampire Bella ran into before? he texts without preamble.
His sister responds almost instantly.
- What's this? No hello? No message that you made it north safely?
Edward rolls his eyes, beyond irritated. This isn't a time to joke, and Alice knows perfectly well he made it north safely, or she ought to if that gift of hers is working correctly. She doesn't see everything, but he trusts she would have seen if something happened to him.
- Quit it. That girl said she met a vampire before. Who was it?
Together Carlisle and Eleazar know a good number of their kind; when the rest of Edward's family and the Denali coven are added to the mix, they must know the bulk of the vampires on this planet at least in passing. There aren't that many of them. Surely they can make a good guess as to who Bella might have run into, and whether he might have already alerted the Volturi to her existence?
- "That girl" has a name, as you know perfectly well, Edward Cullen.
Irritated beyond measure, Edward finds himself biting back a curse under his breath and he never uses coarse language.
- Who was it, Alice?
He refuses to be hounded into using her name more than he has to. He also refuses to admit the reason—he's afraid just saying it may trigger an erection now, some sort of subconscious link, and no one in his extended family needs to know the extent of the power she wields over him. That's his cross to bear alone and silently.
- As it happens, I don't know. You should ask her. Talk to her, Edward.
- No.
He refuses. He'll have to give in at some point, but not right now. He's having space and gaining perspective. He did consider not going back at all—striking out on his own for a bit, until his family was ready to move again—but this isn't an option any longer.
- She's moving out of the frat house. Did you know?
No, of course he didn't know. How would he? He can't read her mind, and she's not close enough for him to reach anyway, even if he could.
- She got her own ratty little student apartment. I want her here with us, but it's a start. You're both being difficult, so I can see this is going to be a process.
Edward is not being difficult, they're all being difficult. Except maybe Rosalie, but if he tells her so she'll start being difficult on purpose because that's who she is. And Edward does not care where that girl is living. In fact, he might prefer that she remain with the wolves. When she was there, he had a modicum of protection from her because he could not enter that house—couldn't even go near it except in the depths of night when all the wolves slept. When she was there, she was untouchable. Having her alone in an apartment changes this dynamic in ways he's not sure he likes. Without the wolves as a barrier between them, so much more is riding on his self-control.
- Try to find out about the vampire, Alice. It's important.
He almost asks her if she's seen anything about the Volturi, but as he reaches the bottom of the staircase he decides not to. He's a traditionalist and he's not sure he trusts a conversation that important to text message. Better to do it face to face. Then he can tell everyone his worries and Alice and Carlisle can gauge how founded or unfounded they might be.
- I'll try. She talks to me more willingly than she talks to you. You should really try being a little nicer to her.
- I don't want her getting any ideas. Ideas in that girl's head are dangerous; Edward already knows this.
- Oh, Edward. It's far, far too late for that, dear brother.
Alice does not elaborate. Edward pulls a face but swiftly smooths it out as he enters the large, open living area of the lodge. Huge windows frame a pouring sky and he perches himself on the wooden arm of a rustic-looking chair as Carmen and Eleazar enter from the kitchen.
"Cousin." Eleazar shakes the hand Edward offers, and the gentle rhythm of his faint, familiar accent puts Edward at ease. Tanya and Irina appear on the landing above but are beside him in the time it takes to blink.
"Kate's in town just now," Carmen says as Tanya presses close and kisses Edward's cheeks with a flourish. Part of him wishes she wouldn't do that. Another part of him wearily wonders what might have been if he'd just given into her advances before this. Would he be living here now, part of this clan, blissfully unaware that such a creature as Bella even exists? Part of him longs for that timeline, one in which he isn't pulled to pieces over a girl he swears he doesn't even like. He has no spark with Tanya, does not love her, but at least he likes and respects her well enough as a person. She's pushy, but not in the same way Bella is, and he understands what she is and why she acts the way she does. He understands nothing about the audacious creature Alice has decided to befriend.
Another part of him rebels at the thought of never knowing the sweet bite of Bella's scent, her savor on his tongue. He has no idea why, but the dread that fills him when he imagines this feels close to panic.
"I spoke briefly with Carlisle," Tanya says, settling in the chair across from Edward and crossing her legs elegantly. Bella has no elegance or poise like this, Edward can't help but notice, but eyes follow her anyway. Not even he is immune, though he's unable to explain the pull. "He said you had come across something that distressed you and you wanted our help, but he chose not to elaborate."
"Not something," Edward corrects. No matter what else Bella may be, she's not a thing. "Someone. A girl."
Tanya's eyes light with surprise and a twin expression crosses Irina's face. "Congratulations, Edward," she says in her soft accent. "I have to say, I didn't expect it. Not of you. No offense."
His face closes over like a cloudy day, and he only just manages to keep from scowling. "She's not mine." Why does everyone insist on assuming this? "We're attending university near Seattle, as you know. She showed up in one of my classes."
Tanya's immaculately-groomed eyebrows rise. "Isn't a college girl a little young for you?"
"She's not mine!" He barely keeps from barking as he's forced to repeat himself. "Eleazar, tell them," he implores.
With a small, amused smile, Eleazar does. "Edward did indeed contact me a bit ago asking questions about someone he had met. Someone not quite human. Have you more answers now, Edward?"
"A few," he admits. "But even more questions than before." He quickly sketches the entire sordid story for his cousins, never being less than truthful but trying to skim over the most mortifying details. Yes, he mistook Bella's sounds of pleasure for cries of distress. Yes, he barged in to try to rescue her. Yes, she shattered his control during that storm. No, he cannot read her mind. He admits to all of it, his worries now beyond his own embarrassment.
"How...how could you make a mistake like that?" Tanya interrupts, not bothering to hide a dark chuckle of amusement. "That's what I want to know. You live with Emmett and Rosalie, and they're not quiet."
"I do my best not to pay attention," Edward growls.
"Enough, Tan," Irina says, coming to his rescue, which Edward doesn't expect. The three sisters tend to stick together. "That isn't the point. This is serious. Edward could be right—we know nothing about this girl and how dangerous to our family she may be." She glances at him; he cannot read her expression, but her mind is clear. She knows better than to bet against Alice, but she doesn't trust what she doesn't understand and she's never met or heard of anything or anyone with Bella's unique blend of characteristics.
"We need answers." Edward shifts in his chair, glancing up as the door opens and Kate glides in, nodding a greeting at him and discarding her rain jacket. "I thought the legends of succubi were all your doing."
"You mean our fault," Tanya says flatly. "Folklore is not my thing, but I think the tales have been around longer than we have. We just got slapped with a label that already existed." She looks to her sisters as Kate shucks off her boots and settles on the couch with Carmen and Eleazar. "You know we...experimented for quite some time. Wanting intimacy with men, but unable to achieve it without harming them. At the time, the isolated communities we hunted through were full of superstition. Word spread of beautiful women who welcomed men to their beds, except the men never came back. That's the sort of thing legends are born from."
"It's just as I told you on the phone, Edward," Eleazar says gently. "Legends of supernatural sexual predators, both male and female, exist around the world and have done so since the dawn of time. Our sisters didn't give birth to the legends, they merely became conflated with them in the minds of the communities they frequented."
"So you know no more about this, about what Bella might be, than anyone else?" Edward turns to Tanya for confirmation. Many people assume Eleazar leads this coven as the only male, but the Slovak sisters are far older and Tanya as eldest and bossiest of the three truly pilots this family.
"How would I know anything about this girl? I've never met anyone like you describe, no." Her sisters shake their heads in confirmation. "I guess it doesn't surprise me completely. The legends must have come from somewhere."
"Except the legends are wrong." Edward spent enough time researching lately to know. "Succubi, if that's truly what she is, are evil and harmful in every permutation I've found. Either they kill their victims, or leave them to waste away from pining, or maim them, or steal their souls—" He ticks the endless accusations against succubi off on his fingers.
"And your Bella does none of this?" Carmen observes him calmly.
Bella is not his, and his teeth clamp down hard on the assumption. He bites back the irritated response he wants to give, because this is his family and he needs their help. "Not that I've observed, and she says she's harmless." He wants to believe her. She sounded so sincere when she said it. But he's afraid of all the things she might not know about herself. What harm might she cause without conscious knowledge? "Certainly she does not kill the people she…" He gropes desperately through his mind for a tactful, respectful way of putting this. "...feeds from," he finishes finally, giving up on the search for a more genteel euphemism.
"Fucks," Tanya corrects with a little snort that might have been cute if it wasn't directed at him. "She fucks them, Edward. Honestly. I'm far older than you and dealing with a language barrier on top of the centuries. If I can adapt with the years, so can you."
He scowls. He can change. He's perfectly capable. He adapted to the shift from wind-up phonograph to electric-powered Victrola, after all, then to hi-fi turntables with their fidgety dials and knobs. He eschewed 8-tracks and cassette tapes, but he insists this was not about his unwillingness to change. It was all about sound quality. He embraced the CD, didn't he? And now digital technology? He can adapt, he grumpily tells himself. When he chooses to.
"In any case," Carmen says, her calm voice overriding whatever irritated comment Edward might have made, "she seems not to harm her prey. It's intriguing, I'll admit, but I am not surprised the legends are wrong. Look at us, after all."
"I wish I could feed like that," Kate mutters enviously, slouching down into the sofa.
"Me, too. It would have saved us all that trouble before," Tanya agrees.
Edward isn't so sure. It might have saved lives and therefore saved his cousins the deep guilt he knows they feel surrounding those deaths, but he's doubtful that Bella's life is as carefree as they may think. She seems perfectly content feeding off the wolves, but he knows she hasn't been with them forever. He can't help remembering Esme's words: She's all alone, Carlisle. Isn't that what his cousins wished to escape when they sought companionship from human men? If so, it's clear that Bella's diet cannot ensure companionship.
"I don't like it," Irina says, disagreeing with her sisters, which is very unusual for the trio. Her exquisitely beautiful face is troubled. "I don't like the thought that a creature roams this world, not human or vampire or wolf, and nobody has discovered her before now. It makes no sense."
"It's strange," Carmen allows. "But if she's the only one, it's not impossible. One may hide where many cannot. I find it stranger that humankind hasn't discovered us yet, frankly."
"It makes sense, and yet it doesn't." Eleazar bends his right leg, resting his ankle atop his left knee. "When in nature is there only one of anything? I believe her if she says she has never met another, but I do not believe this means she is entirely unique. That makes no biological sense."
"Vampires make no biological sense," Edward says bitterly.
Eleazar regards him with unparalleled calm. "In many ways, perhaps you are correct. But we are not so removed from the natural world as you wish to think, cousin. Life springs naturally from death in many guises. Some plants require forest fires for their seeds to germinate, the death of one generation ensuring the life of the next. Some jellyfish are quite literally immortal. You, Edward, both loathe and celebrate the idea of your uniqueness, the singular nature of this thing you have become. You believe yourself outside of the natural world when in truth the situation is far more complex than you want it to be. Nature is strange and wonderful and dynamic, the paradigm of what we understand of it always growing more intricate, and I see no reason to place vampires outside that paradigm. I do question a being such as this Bella who seems to be the only one of her kind. In the absence of spontaneous mutation, this is something I cannot explain."
Edward ignores most of this speech. He's heard it in different forms a million times from virtually every member of his family, and he's not interested in hearing it again. Instead he focuses on what he considers the only important point. "You think she's not the only one like her?"
"I didn't say that. She may be. Like Carlisle, I refuse to discount any possibility simply because it seems unlikely. But I am pointing out that unlikelihood. This is not how nature functions. I don't have to be a biologist to tell you that."
Edward considers his cousin's words. What Eleazar says makes a certain amount of sense, but it also doesn't. If there are more people like Bella out there, whatever she is, wouldn't that make it more likely for humans or vampires to have already discovered them?
"The Volturi would know better than anyone else if a creature like this has been encountered before," Irina says, watching Edward steadily. "You should ask them, if you're truly worried about possible danger to your family. They can assess the threat and handle it accordingly."
"No." This is exactly what he's trying to avoid, and a tense rush of panic fires through him at the suggestion. Bella doesn't deserve to fall into their grasp, his family doesn't deserve whatever punishment the Volturi may mete out for associating with her, and he will not be the one to set that path in motion. He wants all the information he can get specifically to keep this from occurring. "Eleazar, could your gift tell us anything? She's not a vampire, but this fire of hers has to be a gift, doesn't it?"
The older vampire shrugs. "It's possible, but you know I can't say without meeting the girl. My gift does not work from miles away; you know this. It may not work at all on her. You say you cannot read her mind."
Edward's mouth thins. No, he can't read her mind, and admitting this was even more difficult than admitting to his loss of control in the woods. He hasn't even admitted it to his parents and siblings yet. "No, but Alice can see her—when Bella's not with the wolves, that is. She has trouble with them."
"Do you?"
"Have trouble with the wolves? No." Edward can't handle their stink and he and Sam do not get along well, but he can read their minds just fine. He's only ever had trouble with Bella.
"Then that proves our gifts can be fickle with other supernatural elements. Yours works on the wolves; your sister's does not. Hers works on the succubus, yours does not."
"Do you truly believe she's a succubus?"
The expressions on his cousins' faces are doubtful, their minds similarly unresolved when he opens to them and listens. Carmen believes Bella is the best judge of what she is and chooses to trust her. Kate, who came late to the conversation, is still trying to catch up. Irina is suspicious. Tanya thinks, as Edward does, that Bella may not know the truth. Eleazar, like Carlisle, is more pragmatic. "I believe you have met someone you don't understand. I don't know what label, if any, is appropriate to give her, and I'm not sure it matters. Labels are merely our way of making sense of our world; the word you use will not change what she is. None fit perfectly, you've said, so what remains is to either trust the one she's chosen or try to find a better fit she may accept. A succubus or siren are still the closest matches, in my opinion. Another suggestion I might make is a wendigo—a creature borne of desire and desperation. You mentioned her earliest memory was of a Dust Bowl refugee camp. We—and by we I mean the Old World humans with no right to this land—created that environmental catastrophe and it's not beyond the realm of possibility that something dark was birthed from the intense suffering of either the land or the people. Just something to consider."
"Something dark?" Edward bristles at this description. Bella is many things, things he does not understand, but he would never call her dark. Her fire shines too strong for that. She's not sullen embers and ashes but a blaze of heat and light.
"Dark, yes, but not necessarily evil. Don't mistake me—look at us. We are creatures of the dark, are we not? But I don't believe we are inherently bad or evil. We are capable of being what we wish to be. I don't believe the girl you describe is evil, either. Alice is an excellent judge of character and would never have welcomed her if she were."
This, Edward is forced to admit, is accurate. Alice is canny and savvy. She wouldn't have survived those first years alone, not knowing who she was or where she belonged, if she wasn't. But she's also determined to look for the good in people, even after all she's been through. He's afraid that's what she's doing now with Bella, ignoring the questions about her new friend she may not want to face. She's usually right but she's been wrong before. Her visions are not guarantees. Every time his family makes investment decisions based on her visions they are, in effect, gambling. The odds are usually in Alice's favor, but with the danger Bella presents he's not willing to take that risk.
"Will you come meet her?" Edward knew in his heart it was going to come to this, though he'd hoped to avoid it. The Denalis don't like the lower 48; it's too densely populated for their comfort. And he doesn't want more people mixed up in this mess. But Eleazar's gift doesn't work long-distance, and they need to know all they can. No one is more qualified to answer these questions about Bella's nature. If Eleazar's gift can't help, nothing can.
"I would very much like to," Carmen says, turning to her mate. "Elie?"
"If Carlisle has no objection, I will gladly do what I can," he confirms.
The unspoken responses from the sisters are mixed—Kate is eager, Irina anxious and suspicious. Tanya may have to act as a buffer between them. She's hovering in the middle, curious but aware of her sister's reservations. She's also, as Edward listens to her mind, a little upset that he's shown so much interest in this mystery girl. It's not like that, he swears it's not, but saying so doesn't seem to convince anyone. They're all convinced he's head-over-heels for her when in fact he's merely suffering from physical reactions he cannot control. That's all. That has to be all.
Edward's phone buzzes in his pocket. He digs it out and glances at the screen. Alice.
Since his cousins know everything now anyway, he answers and puts her immediately on speaker. "We're all here, Alice," he says a little wearily.
His sister's high, trilling laugh fills his ears. "Edward! We have an answer for you, I think! Aren't you happy?"
"He's never happy," another voice says, a voice he recognizes instantly. So too does he recognize the little bubbles of her laughter, and his heart twists at the instant familiarity of them. Bella's there with Alice right now. "Except maybe when he's unhappy. Silly boy. I'm a physical masochist, he's an emotional one. That's way more twisted than me."
More laughter fills the connection, and he recognizes Rosalie's dry chuckle, too. Lovely. Now she's wormed her way in with both his sisters.
"What do you want?" he snaps. It comes out harsher than he intends, but he really can't help it. Bella sets him on edge like no one else, and she's able to get under his skin in ways even Rosalie never managed.
"Be nice, Edward," Alice says. "We got the answer you wanted. That vampire Bella met before? She described him to Carlisle, and she was really detailed about it. Carlisle's certain it was his old friend Alistair, which explains why he ran from poor Bella."
In Edward's opinion any sane man with an ounce of self preservation instinct should run from Bella, but he refrains from saying so. "You're sure?"
"As sure as we can be. I mean, it's Alistair. We can't exactly call him up and ask him."
"He was really afraid of me. I felt kind of bad about it," Bella says through her giggles. "I wasn't even trying to come on to him. I think he may have been trying to hunt me, but he changed his mind once he got close enough to smell me."
She sounds utterly unconcerned at the thought of a vampire stalking her with intent to kill. That girl is insane. Of course, Edward already knew that. She's currently hanging around a family of vampires, after all, and lives with a pack of volatile werewolves.
Or she did, he acknowledges. Alice said she moved out, though he has no idea why she'd bother.
"It's not very nice to leave me without my science lab partner, you know," Bella says, static crackling along the connection. "The TA had us buy anatomy coloring books as study aids. I got you one."
He does not care, and even as a human he would never stoop to something like a coloring book as a study aid. He glances helplessly around the room. Carmen and Kate look intrigued, Eleazar calm, Tanya wary, Irina expressionless.
Edward himself is relieved at the news that the lone vampire Bella met before is likely Alistair. He's such a recluse that there's no chance he spoke to the Volturi about her. He'd never go within miles of the place.
"Hey, we're going to have a girls' night," Alice says. "Tanya, do you want to set up a video chat? You and the girls can join us remotely."
"No, thank you." Irina speaks for her sister, her face still unreadable to Edward. Her mind is not—she's still suspicious as hell, and she doesn't want contact until she can see Bella face-to-face and judge her scent and fire for herself.
"Suit yourselves." Alice doesn't seem to take offense. "Any other questions, Edward?"
He has countless questions. But just the sound of Bella's bright laughter, her sweet voice, has him on the verge of hardening again and that's something he can't allow. "Thank you," he says, barely managing to be civil before he ends the call.
Carmen watches him, her dark yellow eyes full of amusement. "This is going to be a very interesting trip."
That's not the word he would use to describe it. He's learned, unfortunately, that physical distance hasn't rid him of this tie to Bella as he assumed it would. It's clear her power over him remains despite the miles. What will it take to free himself? Is there a way to run far enough, fast enough, to break loose?
There isn't, that dark whisper inside hisses again, a truth he already knows but refuses to admit. And he's now pledged himself to ensuring the safety of this fiery little wildcard, which means, he's certain, a massive amount of trouble in the offing.
My promised new project is now live! The Game is a oneshot I submitted for the Bodice Rippers Contest. I will be expanding it into a full fic. Pearly Fox made me a beautiful banner!
I'm judo_lin on twitter and I follow back fandom people as long as you're nice. :)