Chapter Four

Origins

Lena sat, held in place by the coppery gaze of one of the beasts. Jasper, he said his name was. He said it funnily, not in the standard accent she tried her best to replicate. Stood oddly, too. Spine straight as a pin, hands clasped behind his back, jaw firm. His skin was marred far worse than Lena's, the pale crescents littering his flesh the only evidence of the hundreds of jaws that had once clamped down on his limbs. His hair was honey blond, darker than Carlisle's, and from beneath the mop of curls, two sparkling orange eyes observed her closely.

Under such a predatory gaze, she was surprisingly unafraid. Rather, she felt a soothing calm wash over her, like cool water lapping at her skin and the edges of her mind.

Movement beside her caught her attention. She didn't spook - she was no animal of prey - but rather whipped her head around. Her pupils dilated as she focused, eyes taking in as much light and information as possible.

Carlisle lowered himself into the barstool next to her, and laid his hands on the grey granite countertop. Completely at ease.

"Emmett's bringing you something to eat. He won't be long," he said.

Lena wasn't looking forward to her meal. She knew it wouldn't be fresh, and it definitely wouldn't be human.

She wasted her time taking in the house. The simple task kept her eyes from drifting towards the other entities filling the space. The eye contact didn't make her feel awkward, but rather made her aware of just how vulnerable she was here, in someone else's space. How easy it would be for them to turn on her.

The house was nice, of course. Expensive-looking, and much larger than her home back in Thessaly. The ceilings were high, and the walls all a clean white. The smell of fresh paint lingered in the air. An entire side of the house was composed of windows, and Lena imagined it would be quite a nuisance when the sun rose, and all of them would glimmer like crystals. But for now, in the cool darkness of night, it was cozy. She could glimpse her reflection in the window staring back at her, and beyond that, there was the thicket. A dense clumping of trees and plants which she longed to slink towards and disappear within.

Carlisle reached out for her suddenly.

Lena tensed, hissed.

He was unaffected, his pale hand coming to rest on her forearm. He delivered a weak squeeze, so weak Lena almost pitied him for it.

"I'm sure an animal diet doesn't sound very appealing to you now, but it will not always be so difficult."

She frowned.

"When I was a newborn, I constantly thirsted for blood. It was difficult to adapt to this alternative diet, but if there's a way to spare human life, a little sacrifice is worthwhile, don't you agree?"

She shook her head. Newborn? What was newborn?

It was the doctor's turn to frown. "I hope to change your mind, Lena."

Lena didn't think he could.

She swallowed, and pressed a hand to her burning throat. Carlisle's friend, Emmett, was taking his time bringing her dinner. If he didn't hurry, she might just have to deal with the fire ravaging her throat herself.

It wouldn't be too much trouble to track down that girl again, would it?

"Emmett won't be much longer." Jasper's voice startled Lena, his odd twang both melodic and alien to her. "He'd hate to keep a lady waiting. You might be able to hear him, if you focus your attention."

His eyes. Something came over his face when he made the suggestion she didn't like. A desire to measure her, compare her, work her out.

Lena had no interest in entertaining him.

She turned to Carlisle. "Where are the others?"

His eyes darted to Jasper, though not quickly enough for Lena not to notice. "Why would you think there are others?"

"The girl showed me."

"My wife, Esme, and children are hunting now. Edward and his family thought it would be… kinder to give you some space for now."

Kindness. Lena didn't believe in that.

There was nothing kind about a monster. She knew that herself. Merciless. They were all merciless, self-preserving creatures, and the Cullens were liars.

Still, the phrasing piqued her interest. Children. Wife. Family. Was it possible to make something from the ruins of her old life? She hoped so, selfishly wished it were possible, if only to feel something, or to possess something - someone. There was nobody left, truthfully. Not another single soul in the whole world that cared, and she prayed - though she was quite sure she no longer had the right - that there was a possibility it could be different.

"Family?"

"Not in the biological sense," he said, "but I was the one to turn most of my children and wife." He paused then, and tilted his head in a very human-like way. "Some call their groups covens, but there are others - like us - who miss the human ways of life. We try our best to preserve our humanity."

Turned? Humanity? Covens?

This was sounding more and more like a horror story, something Nik might have told her under the cover of darkness when they were younger. She snuck into his room during thunderstorms, and the two pulled the blankets off the bed and sat on the floor and told stories in the dark. Tried to scare each other between the flashes of lightning that lit up the room.

A slight pain in her chest. Lena dismissed it quickly.

"Lena," Carlisle called gently.

Her attention snapped to his face. The skin around his caramel eyes was creased, and his brow hung low.

"Lena," he called again, "do you know what you are?"

She answered the question the only way she knew how. "A ghost."

He smiled, and shook his head. There was that look back in his eyes, like he pitied her immensely. "Did your creator not explain these things to you?"

"Creator?"

He nodded. "The one who bit you."

Instantly, his face was at the forefront of her mind.

The little mouse-like man, with his pale, pale, impossibly pale skin and black hair peeking out from beneath his hat. His big eyes, his delicate features, his little rounded nose. She pictured him perfectly, as if he were right in front of her, and the two of them were back in the wheat fields in Thessaly. The whisper of a breeze passed over her skin, carrying with it a distinct hissing. Sunlight bounced off of his skin, and scattered in a million different directions. A watch, she had told herself. A scrap of metal.

She was so stupid.

"Lena, do you remember them?"

She blinked, and Carlisle's face appeared again before her. His frown had somehow deepened, though Lena wasn't sure how it was possible. Surely his smooth pale skin could only shift so much before it would rip.

"Yes."

"Do you remember what they did?"

The fingers of a phantom fire spread through her veins, burning as if it were real. "He tricked me. Attacked me."

"How?"

"Bit me." Without commanding the movement, her hand rose to cover the scar at the base of her throat. The spot was colder than the rest of her skin, as if something plagued it still, as if some ghost remained.

He nodded, and again reached for her hand - the one covering her scar. He pulled it away from her neck, and enveloped it in his. She imagined the warmth - must have, she reasoned, as she knew he was just as dead and cold as she - radiating from his palms into her skin.

"He was a vampire, Lena."

She stared back at him.

"Blood-drinker," he tried, realising the English word was meaningless to her.

She said it under her breath. Blood-drinker. Vampire.

Carlisle nodded, and repeated it back to her.

"I'm sorry, Lena, truly," he said.

She wasn't sure what to do with this information, so she did nothing. Decided she would hold onto it and confront it another time, when she had an answer. Right now, she knew any thoughts would only circle back to self-hatred, which was a type of anger, and she was quite full of that already.

"So sorry," he repeated, but already Lena wasn't listening.

Instead, her attention was back on the cold windows. She stared, and imagined herself slinking into the darkness of the underbrush where she knew she belonged.

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