Chapter Eighteen
Persuasion
All of the Cullens had ghosts.
Lena felt them under their skin, glimpsed them, on occasion, in the wet reflection of their eyes. They stared at her, unblinking, unmoving. It was as if she was looking into their caskets, staring at the souls buried in the bones and flesh of another person.
A number of men lived in Rosalie's glare. All of them were fairly attractive, as though they came straight out of a film from last century. They wore suits, and their hair was gelled back carefully, not a strand out of place. At first, Lena thought they were just old lovers. When she asked about them, Rosalie's eyes flooded with venomous tears, and she stormed off upstairs to her room.
"She doesn't like talking about it," Emmett said. He touched her shoulder as he passed her, gave her a small sad smile, and followed his wife to their room.
Lena never mentioned the ghosts to any of them again. It seemed cruel, and being cruel was only fun when it was intentional. She knew she could only poke and prod for so long, before the Cullens truly grew sick of her. She was acutely aware of the abundance of reasons to destroy her.
She wasted her days in her room, sitting in the dark and practicing embroidery. Carlisle said it would be a good way to learn patience, and how to be gentle. He was right. The craft was incredibly boring, and she wanted nothing more than to tear the stupid thing apart. She was making a little koi pond. She didn't know what a koi was before Esme showed her. She supposed there was this one tiny, insignificant benefit, but that was all.
A knock on her door. She didn't startle.
"Come in."
Jasper opened the door, and stepped into her room. He looked around, observing the space. There was nothing particularly interesting to see. There was only a bed, and a dresser stuffed with Rosalie's discarded clothes pushed up against the same wall as the door. Though Lena thought she would have loved to see her in her abandoned clothes, Alice's frame was much too small, as was Esme's.
He stood by the door, hands laced behind his back. His eyes came to settle on her. She felt as she always felt when he looked at her, as if there was a sudden need to flee. Her hands stilled, the needle slipping from between her fingers.
She looked up at him.
"Describe her to me."
It was the first sentence Jasper said to her in weeks. Far from what she expected. She thought he would yell at her, or curse her out for Alice's departure.
The Cullens never ceased to amaze her. Everytime she thought they would certainly act out of self-interest, they always took a step back, breathed, and tried to salvage their relationship with her. It was a seemingly foolish task, but one they took up heartily.
"Who?" she asked.
"You tell me."
There was that look in his eyes again, the same look he had the first night they met, and every time they went out hunting. He was testing her. He wanted to see what she was capable of.
"I'm not a…" She fumbled for the correct English expression. Shook her head, and gave up. "I'm not here to impress you."
He sat on the edge of her bed. It seemed to be a liberty he was uncomfortable with, because he sat pin straight, and as far away from her as he could.
"Alistair told me about what happened," he said. "Quite remarkable. He had nothing but praise."
Why he would praise such a frightening moment, she could not understand. It was undoubtedly her lowest and most shameful experience since becoming a vampire. How could she be scared of a ghost? Even as a child, even as a human, she would have thought it was pitiful.
How gallant Alistair was, refusing to spill in excruciating detail just how embarrassing it had been. Not once had she heard him gloat about holding her, or laugh over her tears. A predator, she thought, and yet she had exposed herself as weak and instead of ending her he was protecting her pride.
"It's more trouble than it's worth," she decided.
"Just this once," he said. "Then you never have to do it again, if you don't want to."
Lena sighed, and set aside her embroidery.
Jasper's word meant something.
She was only doing this because they would leave her alone, finally. Still, she wondered what it was he hoped for. He wouldn't bother her for no reason. In fact, she thought he had spent the last few weeks convincing himself she was dead.
She sat up, and scooted over on the bed so she was in front of him. She stared into his eyes, glowing amber, and willed something to lurch up from their depths, like a body deep under water finally coming up for air.
She appeared, like a phantom in the fog. Unclear, at first, but definitely a woman. Not Alice, but someone like Alice. Someone he was tied to, though she wasn't sure how, exactly. She could never get a firm grasp on the facts.
A tiny brunette with dark red eyes, her gaze vicious and yet still somehow cold. A distant sort of hate. Her skin was olive-toned, darkened further from long hours spent under the sun as a human.
Something was forming in the corner of the room by the curtains. A white shapeless blur. She stared at it, watching as it moulded itself into a woman. Her frame was fleshy, made up of grand curves and rounded edges.
Jasper twisted around to follow her gaze. He gave no physical reaction. Maybe he didn't see it at all.
The statue of a woman formed, but it was different from Astaroth's. Somehow, it was clearer. Her facial features were more exact, the lines of her lips and nose smoother. Her soft cheeks looked like there was real fat beneath her skin, which was not the chalky white of marble but a warm brown. She wondered if she felt different, if her skin felt like skin while Astaroth's felt like stone.
Hair sprouted from her head, long black curly locks pulled away from her face. Her clothes, like her hairstyle, were from another time. A beige corset cinched in her waist, and her skirt was far longer and puffier than anything considered trendy now.
"I don't believe it," Jasper said.
The woman blinked her eyes open, and met Lena's stare. The corner of her mouth tipped upwards. She stepped forwards, and the howling began.
It was as if a storm had been summoned into the room. Wind whipped around them, and Lena's dark hair flew around her face. She hurriedly grabbed it, irritated when it obstructed her view of the woman approaching her. The curtains flipped open and closed, forcing light into the room. It bounced off of Lena's skin, off of Jasper's skin, and the two glimmered like crystals.
Agonising.
Screeching - the awful pitch of a cat. Unbearable. The sound grated against her eardrums. She gritted her teeth, praying it would stop.
The woman moved toward her, ignoring Jasper entirely. She stopped in front of Lena, leant forwards, offering an ample view of her breasts spilling from the top of her corset. Her face loomed before her, her plump lips still twisted into a smug line, her red eyes sparkling.
Her face detached from her body, and darted towards her. It twisted into something demonic, the whites of her eyes charring and her teeth glistening with venom. She screamed. The veins in her face darkened and pressed up against her skin.
The wind worsened, ice cold when it bit at Lena's skin.
She reached out and touched her fingertips to the woman's cheek. Her flesh squished under her touch, and abruptly, the shrieking stopped. Her face retracted back to her body, and the wind died out as she crumbled into dust.
Lena drew a shaky breath, and leaned over the bed to stare at the spot the woman previously stood. A pile of brown dust - the only proof she had ever been there at all.
Lena looked at Jasper.
His eyes were wide. It was the only clue to his thoughts. The rest of him sat pin straight, as if nothing had happened. His hands rested on his knees, and his head did not lower.
"Did I pass?" she asked bitterly.
He blinked at her. "Aro can't know about this."
"Is that all you care about?"
"The Volturi will blackmail you into joining," he said. "We have already lost Alice."
Lena frowned. She was not a Cullen.
"Lena." He reached out to her, and set his hand on her knee. His eyes held a strange blend of wonder and pity, and she shifted uncomfortably under the attention.
"Don't look at me like that." She smoothed her hair down. "My curse is nothing to awe."
Jasper's eyes flickered over her, reading something on her skin. She supposed it was a part of his gift, something she would never understand herself, but that didn't mean she liked it. It made her uncomfortable. The more she thought about it, the more his ability seemed like mind control.
"It doesn't have to be a curse."
Her hands stilled on her head, and she looked at him.
"We will help you learn to control it," he said, "just like we've been helping with your bloodlust."
His face was frighteningly earnest. He meant it.
He meant it.
God, the Cullens were awful. Lena was beginning to think something was wrong with her. Did their hearts still beat, while hers did not?
No, it wasn't her who was faulty, but them. The worst kind of predatory creatures. Inefficient. Cursed with a conscience. It was sickening.
She rolled her eyes and flopped back onto her bed. "Sure, whatever you want."