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The Journals
By: Everleigh Allen
Chapter 6
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Bella left the gentle piano music playing as company as she tiptoed through the room and into bed.
It was far more comfortable than she expected it to be. For some reason she thought it would be as old as the other furniture she's seen in the house, but it was seemingly new. So were the pillows, sheets, and blankets.
Well, except for an old quilt that was draped over the end of the bed.
Bella wondered if there was a story that came with the quilt for a moment before she looked at the journal that lay on the nightstand.
"Journaling is like whispering to one's self and listening at the same time." Bella whispered with a grin before she felt the flutter of the curtains move slightly, but it didn't reach her. Perhaps it was her imagination or her will, but there wasn't the draft she had quickly become accustomed to and she found that she missed it.
But it all that anxiety came rushing back when Bella turned off the lamp at her bedside table and she was suddenly immersed within the darkness. She instantly felt as if the shadows morphed making the walls move in strange ways.
Bella flipped the light back on and saw the room was exactly as it was moments before. She picked up the journal that was left on the side nightstand and thumbed to where she saw a ribbon holding the place. Curious, she read.
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Rochester, NY
April 1933
Esme is concerned that I have yet to find my mate.
As obtuse as the notion is that many of us have yet to find a partner- let alone THE allusive mate, I her accept her kindnesses and begrudgingly tolerate the various matchmaking that amuses her.
How she forgets that I can read minds, let alone hers, is bemusing.
It was last Thursday when Carlisle and Esme returned from their stay in Alaska with our "cousins," the Denali's. I have yet to meet them, though I can see from Carlisle's thoughts that they are proficient in certain skills sets that they have acquired from many, many (if I may be so bold to say) suiters.
It's not that I'm not prudish in any sense of the word, of course. Several journals thus far have been spent utilizing my skills detailing the imagines so that I could remember each instance that gained my special attentions. I do, sometimes refer back to those well-worn pages at my leisure.
I digress.
The day Carlisle married Esme she became my mother on paper.
She is mothering in mind, as well, though I do not see her as such. She was only a few years senior in age than my own when she was changed.
Her concerns of my solitude these past few years far surmounts all else and I know that she would like to see me settled with a mate to mirror her own happiness.
She worries for me more than my own mother had on her deathbed.
She thinks there may be someone that may strike some kind of (mating-bond) fancy like she had with Carlisle as a human. Perhaps she's correct in her thinking, but she also believes it's a bit of rebellion on my part that I do not wish to court them!
It's their thoughts that make them intolerable and not viable choices.
I have met a few others like us when I went off on my own and saw that many were able to find someone to occupy their time in such an existence, but I cannot! I refuse to give my promise to someone that I have not courted and lack affection. It's not that I haven't been searching for my intended mate! I have spent many days and nights, year after year looking to no avail!
Esme doesn't understand. Her unrelenting, continuous thoughts and redundant discussions eventually wore me down.
That is why we now sit late one Saturday night in a former speakeasy in downtown Rochester perusing the local women, much to my dismay.
Correction.
I'm writing in this journal and she is looking for a suitable mate for me.
I don't even need to look at them to know they are looking at me. I see it clearly. I hear them clearly. Their interest is present but their self-preservation keeps them away.
I can see from her mind that the bond is more of a pull, a longing to be with that person and an ebbing pain when apart. The concept of pain for people like us is something not often seen. Only a few have the talent of physical pain. Most gifts are more mental.
Like mine.
How Carlisle managed to leave Esme in the first place is beyond me.
But as I look around at the people and pretend to sip my bourbon, I cannot see anyone that has caught my special attention.
In an instant there's a mental commotion within the room and the masculine energy in the room is teaming with lust and vivid fantasies of them with a blonde.
My head tilts to the side and see a tall blonde woman move through the room. She smirks knowingly as there's an audible hush of conversation but their fantasies grow like wildfire. Like Moses with the Red Sea, they part with awe for her but I can only see the air of arrogance she gives off. I turn away from them all, instantly bored.
Esme isn't as keen to write her off. She's been eyeing me with thoughts that she may be a good fit for me even in her current state of being.
She leans closer and whispers, "Oh, she's lovely Edward."
She could've kept her whisper as a thought, but I knew better. She wanted Carlisle to hear her and encourage her in this plan.
Which he always does.
I look at her with annoyance. "No."
"You don't think she's lovely?"
"She is promised to another," I say simply, hoping they'd move on.
I know they won't.
I know her name.
Everyone does.
She is Rosalie Hale, the daughter of a banker and her fiancé, Royce, works with her father.
It is an acceptable match in society circles. I've seen it a thousand times. They are not marrying for love or lust- but status.
Rosalie Hale looks at me with envious curiosity for a moment as she saunters by but she's quickly diverted to her fiancé and his group of friends. Royce demands attention from everyone around him, Rosalie included.
They move away from the three of us and I look back at the drink I won't be drinking in front of me. I have seen her around as she had seen my family. Carlisle is often the town doctor and this city is no different. She greets us with a curt nod, wondering briefly about our oddly beatific features.
She won't linger in the club long and Royce will surely send her on her way soon. She will go willingly since she's eager to see her friend Vera in the morning.
There's suddenly a mix of noise from the band as they tune their instruments. It'll be mere moments before they start playing and the floor in front of them will be flooded with dancing.
"Can we go?"
Carlisle frowns but looks to Esme for a moment before she nods in agreement and we quickly make our way out.
There's no sweet caress of the wind around me. It feels stagnant.
I let Carlisle and Esme walk ahead the moment I feel the atmosphere change. They are feeling amorous and I do my best to limit the exposure. I turn down the alley and she the quiet night filled with fits of laughter and drunken anger. Both mix dangerously close and my steps quicken in the opposite direction.
"Hey there," the voice moves through the air like a Siren beckoning from the Sea. She means to call to me, seduce me, but I know better and it lands on deaf ears. Her thoughts betray her. I've seen her before though Carlisle's mind. She's one of the Denali sisters from Alaska.
I see that Carlisle sent for her in a moment of weakness with his mate from his mind.
"Tanya,"
It's not a greeting. It's an acknowledgement.
She giggles lightly; the tinkling sound misses its mark when I look away from her. Her charms do not work with me but she enjoys the game.
"Edward." She grinned. "You left the club early." My mind is instantly filled with her imaginative thoughts of us together in a tryst of lust-filled animalistic sex. I can see that she's a steadfast lover and a graciously accommodating teacher if I required instruction.
She a succubus.
Her mind is like a deck of cards shuffling and reshuffling. Each word of mine shifts her intentions.
There isn't any real interest in building any kind of sustainable relationship.
Her thoughts fluctuate on what she wants, what she thinks she needs, and what she'd like to do with me, to me.
Cards shuffle and lay before me.
Five cards each splay through her mind and the pictures move.
She's trying to distract me. Her arms circle around my torso, locking around my back for a moment drawing me in for a kiss that I rebuff. Undeterred, her hand drifts up my chest. Tanya is more than friendly towards a man she just met, even though she doesn't think of us as strangers. She's heard a lot about me and knows of my gift.
A man Eleazer has informed her well.
She uses her touch, words, and thoughts well and had I been desperate for affection I would have taken her how she wanted- against the alleyway wall.
But she's wrong. It has no effect on me.
After almost 15 years since I was changed, I know how to control my impulsive sensitivities.
It has been mere seconds but feels like eternity.
"I heard you can read minds?" Her voice is taunting as she teases my collar. I step away from her without another word and read the instant rejection on her face and in mind. It doesn't last. Her resolve is stronger and like the shuffling of the cards, her game changes again.
Erotic cards flare out in my mind, images of her on her knees before me and me before her on mine.
Neither seems appetizing and she can tell instantly from my face, though she ignores it.
"It's a burden I must endure, much like your false affections. I fold."
She knows my meaning instantly.
Game over.
Tanya scoffs and instantly pulls away.
"Our parents think we'd make a good match."
I look at her then, seeing the flippant way she shrugs off the game and the vigorous affection like wet shirt. It's not comfortable for her to be vulnerable and though she tries to hide her thoughts, I can see that she doesn't really desire a mate, either.
"We could be friends, nothing more." I offer.
She grins slightly and nods, "Sure thing, sweetheart!" Her eyes divert from Edward and land on a human male that's just left the club with a woman on his arm. I recognize him instantly as Rosalie's fiancé; Royce. The woman has long brown hair that falls over her shoulders and is not his betrothed.
She is quite the opposite.
"Ah, what a looker!" Tanya grins and her thoughts are a mixture of instant lust and hunger. She's already entranced with the show that she's imagining in her head.
The mental pictures shuffle again.
Then again.
I can see from Tanya's mind that she's watching as Royce abruptly turns into the alleyway, dragging the giggling woman behind him. He doesn't see that he has an audience, nor does he care. He quickly disrespects the woman by pulling down her blouse. He gropes her as he kisses down her neck as she moans in approval. She doesn't seem to mind at all. Although, I've seen enough, it's all there still to see. Her hands grip at his clothing just as eagerly and he laughs when she finds his belt, his buttons, and then his manhood.
She grips him tightly.
I wish I could just tune it out but I've seen it a thousand times before.
"They look like they are in love." Tanya groans as her fingers fiddle with the collar of her shirt. I turn away, though it plays in my head anyway.
My eyes are cinched shut but can still see him impale the woman in his mind, in the mind of man down the street and the copper on the corner and though Tanya's eyes. He's thrusting hard against her, and is uncaring that she's hitting the wall. She cries out, feigning her peak and wanting it to be over quickly. It was a mistake but it's too late. His hand covers her mouth, warning her to be quiet. She obeys, trying to forget the pain from the friction from her head and back. I can see in her mind the prickle of fear as I watch his hand move from her mouth to her neck. He wraps his fingers around her throat for a moment.
She's surprised a little scared, and stiffens.
Royce grins wickedly.
"That's not love."
"It looks like it to me."
I ignore Tanya and see that her mind matches her words. She thinks this is affection. It's spontaneous, intimate. Like the woman being impaled by Royce, Tanya desires to be needed just as fervently.
"His fiancé would probably disagree. She left just before he took this broad in the alley."
"Well, who am I to judge someone's fun." Tanya shrugs my words off as if the fiancé would be just a pawn to her queen. Tanya's game may have changed but she's easily bored.
We watch as Royce completes a few seconds later. His frenzy calms with a few grunts and in a matter of minutes the whole experience is thankfully over.
Royce withdrawals fully stated but his thoughts are wicked and violent. He wishes he could do more with the woman and is considering inviting her home.
"Look," Tanya whispers and I can't help it, I look.
Royce's facade is jovial when the woman gives him a silly smile he takes it as an invitation for more.
But it is a lie.
He wants to take her again in the dark so he doesn't have to be so careful. He's a predator just like countless others. He looks toward the middle of the alley where it's darker and his mind plays out the strategy. But as a couple walks by interrupting them his mind shifts back to Rosalie; she's waiting for him. The woman reaches out to Royce and kisses his mouth, his neck, and thanks him.
She's a good liar, too.
She plans to take his deposit to the bank.
"Well, that was definitely different." Tanya giggled. "I must find a little snack. Would you like to join me?"
I see her thoughts shift again as a number of male faces from the bar shuffle and reshuffle in her mind.
I get her implication immediately. "No thank you."
"Suit yourself."
I didn't watch her walk away.
I was already on my way to find Carlisle and Esme.
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We left early the next morning to hunt, just Carlisle and I. I want to share my grievances with him, but his eyes and mind expressed such hope that I cannot bare it.
"I learned you met Tanya from the Denali?"
"Yes."
Carlisle pierced his lips and eyes as he watched me.
"It went well, I take it?"
"As well as one would hope… considering what she is."
"What we are, you mean."
"No, I don't."
"Edward," Carlisle's exasperation does nothing to guilt me into any kind of declaration. "Does she suit?"
"No. Of course not!"
"On what foundation?"
"It was not a viable match." I huffed in annoyance that he made me say it out loud fully knowing there would be nothing between Tanya and I. I could see it all unfolding in his mind. "Pairing me with a succubus was obviously a humorous to the both of you."
Carlisle grinned, knowing he was caught. "I was merely appeasing Esme."
"Of course," I smiled sardonically. "Please give her the message that I don't want succubae."
"Perhaps the opposite?"
I glared at him and he laughed brightly, clearly amused.
"Perhaps I should leave again, give you and Esme more time together since your only distraction seems to be my intimate privations."
"Oh, Edward calm yourself. It was in jest. Neither of us wants you to leave. We just want you to be well matched with a mate."
"Well, I doubt that I would find a suitable match in New York, nor do I want to stay here much longer."
"What did you have in mind?"
"I was thinking of going as far away from here as I could."
"Washington? The home is still occupied but we can go closer to the coast, if you prefer."
"Perhaps."
Let's set our affairs in order, first. Then we can leave in a few days."
-EAMC
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Bella flipped through the next few pages. There were several drawings of New York and several penned portraits that resembled the descriptions of Royce, Rosalie, Tanya, and the woman Royce had taken in the alley.
There wasn't a self-portrait, though. Bella was desperate to see a picture of the man writing the journals.
Bella thumbed through many blurred drawings but none seemed to be him. Frustrated and tired, she reached for the light and turned it off.
She was completely encased in darkness but this time it felt different.
It was as if she knew she wasn't truly alone.
She didn't feel afraid.
If the ghost of Edward truly existed still-
Succubae
Incubus
The words instantly surged through Bella's mind as if they were whispered into her ear but they weren't. They flowed over and over on a loop and Bella instantly knew what Edward- Bella gasped- and the Cullen's could be.
But that would mean Alice could be- would be one, too, right?
It would make sense.
How Alice seemed to appear and disappear, how things just happened to be there when Bella asked and even when she didn't ask.
Bella closed her eyes, trying to remember something niggling at the back of her mind.
Perhaps a repressed memory or a thought?
Could it be as if someone or something had been there all along and she was just too lost in her own mind and in the journals to truly notice?
Bella felt the bed move slightly, even though she hadn't. She couldn't see the curtains, but she could guess they moved with the draft that just washed over her.
"Vampires," Bella whispered into the darkness.
This time it did not answer her back.
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A/N: So Bella suspects… or does she know?
Thank you for your patience as I went back and forth on whether I was going to add this chapter or scrap it. I chose to keep it as it's fitting for the timeline for now and I want the characters to be introduced in Bella's head.
I won't be writing Rose's scene since E wasn't there, and C found her. There may be future journal entries that state what she had done to Royce and a generalization of why but rest assured that there's no sexual violence in this story. The woman Royce was with was someone who had her own motivations for the union as well, if you caught it.
Quote: "(Journaling) is like whispering to one's self and listening at the same time." Mina Murray, -Dracula
I hope you're coping with the world wherever you may be.
I am grateful for your kind reviews.
Be safe and well.