Midnight Sun

Page 26

Where will you go, Edward, if you leave? Back to Carlisle?

"I don't think so," I whispered.

It had been more than ten years since that conversation with Tanya. I tried not to think about it often—tried not to think of how cowardly I'd been, to be perfectly honest. But sometimes my mind would drift back to it. I had gone back to Carlisle eventually, but only once Isabella Swan had left Forks for college in Arizona. I'd been the prodigal son returning once more. My eyes were not red this time, but the feelings of shame and loathing had been similar. I was a coward. I'd run until it was safe, and then I crawled back home.

The family didn't stay in Forks long after my return, though. My resolve had been fierce. I would not be the monster I'd envisioned myself as. I had to be sure of that and the only way I knew how was to emulate the man I considered my father. He never let the monster come to head—and in all honesty, it seemed like he didn't even have a monster who could come out. I knew I did, though, and he had to stay hidden inside, locked behind a door with no key. I decided I would show the monster that these humans were not his prey, but something to be held above himself. Like how God had told the angels to protect and watch over the sons and daughters he had made in his image, flawed as they be, I too would do the same. I would heal them, I would save them, and I would force the monster to watch as they lived on, unknowingly avoiding his fate for them.

I went back to medical school once more and, though it had been the fourth degree I'd held, it was the first I'd put into practice. To say it was easy would be a lie, but my determination had never been greater. The scent of blood, once alluring, was now nothing but a diagnostic tool. I'd wondered how Carlisle could do it many times throughout our lives together. Of course I could see it in his mind, but the practicality of it seemed utterly impossible. It took years of surrounding myself with blood, but the scent eventually ceased to fill my mouth with venom. I was not thirsty anymore from it, but determined to figure out what it meant. My mind compartmentalized into doctor and predator. I could be one or the other, but not both at the same time.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit . . .

My inner monologue dissolved as Maggie's panicked thoughts invaded the background noise of voices in my head. I picked out the words which were alarming her, feeling a sudden surge of something akin to adrenaline. Gunshot wound. Cops are bringing him. Two minutes out.

Since I'd finished my residency and fellowship in general surgery, I decided to put my skills to use in a place that could use them. I knew I could never hope to be on the same level as Carlisle, but my schooling taught me my skills were often better than most of my human counterparts. I could work quickly and for long hours without tiring. My heightened senses told me things about the human body that others would need imaging for, and I'd never once lost a patient to an error or missed a diagnosis others might. I'd wanted to do the most good with what I'd learned and the small town of Jackson, New Hampshire—with its remote location, holy underfunded community hospital, and aging chief of staff—fit the bill perfectly.

It was quiet for the most part—the usual illnesses, broken bones, cuts, and minor surgeries—so the idea of a gunshot had the small emergency department staff abuzz with excitement, curiosity, and worry. Their minds went in many different directions from wondering who'd been shot, why they were shot, and who had done it. Most of the gunshot wounds we saw were the result of a hunting accident and not malice, but this sounded different. I could easily hear the sirens in the distance and the number of units seemed more than this town had to offer. As I followed Maggie out to the ambulance bay, relaying instructions on how to prepare to her and the rest of the small emergency department staff, I listened in to the first mind I could in the parade of police vehicles approaching.

I can't believe she was right. How the hell did she know he was here?

He was driving behind an SUV—thoughts a jumbled mess of serving a warrant and then a gunfight. A woman's face quickly fluttered in his mind, but it was as if looking through a foggy window. Some humans could picture things better than others and his mind went in too many different directions to focus on one image for too long. It didn't matter, though. They would arrive in less than thirty seconds and I'd get to see it all for myself.

"They didn't even wait for an ambulance," Maggie said, standing beside me as we waited in the small bay. I tugged the gloves on my cold hands as she went on. "It's gotta be bad. Why else wouldn't they wait?"

I shrugged and watched as a black SUV roared up the hill and around the small bend under the canopy as more units pulled in behind. It screeched to a halt, bouncing back on its tires as the backdoor swung open before I could touch the handle. Everything seemed to stop in the moment and I ceased breathing instantly. Sitting with a bleeding, cursing man laying across her lap was Isabella Swan—the girl who I'd run from, who'd brought the monster back to life, and who I swore to never be near again because I knew I would kill her if given the chance.

A half second passed and I took her in, realizing she wasn't quite the same as before. She wasn't a girl anymore, but a woman. Of course she resembled the skin and bone teenager, but if it hadn't been for my perfect memory, I may not have recognized her right away. Her long hair was now cut to her shoulders and her heart-shaped face had matured, leaving insignificant lines only I would be able to see. A jagged scar cut through the end of her left eyebrow, running down to her cheekbone, but it did nothing to diminish her beauty.

The scene broke quickly then with her shouting at me. "Get him the fuck off of me!"

The man across her lap cried out and my compartmentalized mind sectioned her away, focusing on the bleeding human being before me. It took little to pull him out, but I groaned and heaved for show as he landed on the gurney. He didn't remain still, but instead lashed out with his arms with one target in sight. Isabella ducked, clearly anticipating his fury. It seemed I wasn't the only one who could hate her—though I was sure our reasons differed greatly.

I shoved him back down, keeping my hand against his shoulder to hold him as he struggled. His abdominal wound gushed more blood, soaking through the towel she'd been using to hold pressure. He was losing too much. I told Maggie to get a sedative ready as we pushed him inside and into the one and only trauma room the small hospital had.

Isabella's partner joined her, keeping her from following us into the room. Before the doors closed, though, she looked me in the eyes and ordered, "Do not let him die."

As I worked to save him, I gathered the story from the mind of her partner, Greyson, and the other officers filling the hospital. Unsurprisingly—though I wished it had changed—I still couldn't read Isabella's. The others told her story for me. She'd followed somewhat in her father's footsteps and now worked as a Special Investigator for the New Hampshire State Police. I wasn't often surprised by humans, but this career choice would have never crossed my mind for her years ago. Of course, much of what crossed my mind about her years ago involved murder and little about her possible future.

She was here in Jackson to arrest Jeff Suckler, a man whose whereabouts she'd been investigating for the last four months from her office in Concord. The warrant had come through today after she'd pinpointed his location, so she wasted no time in trying to apprehend the vile human being I was trying to save. For a brief moment I reconsidered my efforts. It would be easy, after all. A small slip of my hand would give no one any indication he died from anything other than Isabella's gunshot. But I wasn't that man anymore—judge, jury, and executioner. My only purpose now was to heal, and so that was what I intended to do. His wound, a tear in his abdominal aorta, was life-threatening, but I worked quickly to stop the bleeding long enough to get him upstairs to an operating room where I made the actual repair.

In the end I only had him in the OR for a little over two hours, and it was nowhere near enough time to prepare to come face to face with her again.

I watched her pacing the floor in front of the door which denied her access to the man she wanted to keep her eyes on. I didn't need to read her mind to know he was the only thing she thought of—everyone else around her told me so. She chewed on her bottom lip as she wrung her hands together. She didn't speak to her partner who sat patiently in a chair, scrolling through the phone in his hand. Hers was clipped firmly to her belt, along with the gun and badge. She wanted no distractions.

I took a breath now, letting her muted scent invade my senses. It wasn't as potent, but she wasn't exactly close to me either. It still burned as venom filled my mouth, making me consider running once again. The only thing keeping me from doing so was the knowledge that she wouldn't be here long. Concord was only two hours away, though, which was much closer than I'd like. Had Alice seen this? I was sure she'd warn me if she had. Though I didn't live with my family in upstate New York, the short distance meant I spent time with them often. I'd just been there nine days ago, in fact. If she'd seen this, I would have found it in her mind. Yes, she could hide things from me, but not something regarding Isabella Swan. I searched for the girl in her visions every time I saw Alice—so this kind of meeting wouldn't happen.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, sending a quick text before I dared to push my way through the door separating me from the most alluring scent I'd ever encountered.

Do I need to leave?

She answered as fast as the cell service allowed: No.

I took another breath, as deeply as I could this time, and pushed open the door, letting her hit me full force. The fire burned painfully and my step nearly faltered. I wasn't used to so much venom filling my mouth and quickly swallowed it away before clearing my throat. She looked at me then, eyes narrowing in on mine. Was I as terrifying as when she had seen me in that biology classroom? It'd been nearly two weeks since I last hunted and I knew my eyes would be just as dark as the first time she had seen me. Did the monster show himself to her again? If so, she didn't let me see. She stood ramrod straight before me, eyes fierce as she crossed her arms in front of her.

"Is he alive?" she asked, shifting her gaze to the wall behind my head. I could hear the uptick in her heartbeat, the telltale sign of recognition.

Her breathing came a little faster, but on the outside she remained a hard read. Was she thinking about how I looked exactly the same? Was she wondering how I got here? Was she afraid of me? Damn, how I wished I could hear just a second of her thoughts! I felt completely unnerved. My gift often felt more like a curse than anything else, but I relied on it. Without it I felt somehow weak and vulnerable.

I nodded and held my hand out—like I would any other member of law enforcement. She glanced at it, pausing momentarily before reaching out to shake it lightly. "Yes, I think he'll make a full recovery. I'm Dr. Cullen. I'm sorry I wasn't able to introduce myself earlier."

She glared at me now. "Nice to meet you, Doc. Det. Black. Can I see him? He needs to be restrained at all times."

Black? "He's not awake yet."

"Better to restrain him now before he can fight back," she said, motioning for Greyson to stand up.

I laughed incredulously, shaking my head as I stood between her and the door. "Look, I'm sure he did something horrible." I knew he did, but only from the minds around me. "But he's in no shape to sit in court anytime soon. The bullet nicked his abdominal aorta, which will take some time to heal. He'll need to rest here until I'm sure the repair will hold and he won't start bleeding out again. You can restrain him, but if he starts thrashing around I'll just have to keep him sedated until he's healed some."

She shrugged. "If that gets him in court faster, I don't care if he's awake or not. That man raped and murdered three women and a teenage girl. I want him alive to pay for what he did and while I'd love for him to be awake and in agonizing pain, I can live with watching him rot away in prison. Now, can we please see him, Dr. Cullen?"

If her heartbeat and breathing hadn't given away the fact that she remembered me, I'd have no doubt now. She looked at me pointedly before lifting her left hand to brush through her mahogany hair. It was then the scent hit harder than ever before—fresher than ever before. I swallowed thickly as my eyes fell to her wrist. Blood coated her pale skin, which had been exposed as she lifted her hand, and the breeze from the air conditioner pushed the scent directly in my path.

Suddenly my phone vibrated in my pocket and I knew I had to look at it, but it took every single ounce of my strength and resolve to not leap forward, tearing at the flesh of her neck.

She's hurt and you heal, son. Heal her.

It wasn't Alice, but I knew without a doubt she was behind my father's message. No one else could stop and make me think like Carlisle. If my sister had sent it, I probably would have already dropped the phone without a second thought, but Carlisle was different and I was sure she saw that he would need to be the one. I wanted to be like my father. I strived everyday of my eternal life to be at least a quarter of the man he was. That was what had stopped me from going back to Forks all those years ago and set me on the path where I stood today.

If I could be like Carlisle, I could keep the monster locked away. If I could heal, I wouldn't hurt. If I saved, I didn't kill. The monster wouldn't come out . . . yet.

I don't own Twilight. Or Midnight Sun. But I do own a pretty rad cat face mask. Also, Pandora's Box is Heavy is pretty much the most awesome person in the world and is being wonderful by prereading. Check out her stuff because she's friggin' great.

Midnight Sun hit me like a ton of bricks and this is the result. Some of it's prewritten, so weekly updates are planned. My other stories should be finished someday, but I'd recommend holding off on reading What's Left of Me until it's done. It's dark and slow to write, but I have hopes. If you actually read this far, thank you so much for checking this out. Tell your pets I said hi.