A/N: Deleted and reposted because the lovely leggylover03 brought to my attention that the book was not visible to all and someone on a forum said deleting and reposting the last chapter can help clear that bug. I'm sorry for the double notification!
Faith
Carlisle
I can put her back together.
I can put her back together.
I can put her back together.
Carlisle kept up an endless cycle of the same six words. Again and again. Never ending. For he knew the moment he stopped telling it to himself, the realization of what he had just done would hit him like a rogue speeding truck.
His hands lay clasped around Esme's head, her face pressed to his chest. But it was odd. He was used to Esme burying her face in his torso. That was how she would always welcome him home. An embrace. But this was no embrace. There was no soft press of her body against his. There was no gentle caress of her hands on his back. There was no happiness of her voice as she asked him about his day.
This was wrong, unnatural.
He stood rooted to the spot, avoiding dwelling on anything but the fact that his family, his love could still make it. They'd be in pain. But they'd survive.
If every muscle of his body hadn't been locked with the horror of what he had done just now, he would be a crumbled mess on the floor too.
Carlisle held himself upright, breathing in the heady scent from the top of his wife's head. With a deliberate slowness, he knelt down and placed Esme's head on her corpse -no, her body, he corrected himself. With a dedication he did not know he could summon in the moment, he avoided looking at his wife. He knew any glimpse, any image he caught right now, would be branded onto his brain like a searing horror for the rest of eternity.
Carlisle spared a glance at his granddaughter. Her pleading had died on the lips that hung open. She said nothing, her eyes wide and almost unseeing. His heart went out to the young girl he still saw as a child, as the baby he had held in his arms, the child he had stood in that clearing for, the granddaughter he had taken to the playgrounds and restaurants and bought ice creams for.
She should not be seeing this. His nearly four hundred years of life hadn't prepared him for the anguish he knew he would face in full force soon enough. What chance did an eight year old child have?
Aro was close behind him. Far too close and Carlisle had never been more repulsed by anything than this man's perverse proximity. He stood up, and turned, facing the man he once considered a friend. When he looked into those glowing red eyes, Carlisle could see nothing of the joy, the excitement he had felt over their shared love for art and science and history.
All he saw was a man whose heart was a den of filthy, twisted vice.
Aro had no need to use his gift to know Carlisle's opinion of him. And his easy, self-satisfied smile was a clear indication that he did not care much for it regardless.
"What more do you want from me Aro?" Carlisle whispered, his voice even. He breathed steadily and kept his eyes away from the ground, or his now staggering first son.
"Just one more thing my dear," Aro smiled. "A trade, if you will."
Aro paced around him slowly, his index fingers touching thoughtfully under his chin. "You see, your family has been known to walk the edge of the law. For example, your daughter-in-law's father. Chief Swan. He has accepted his granddaughter's growth spurt rather well. So many things that raise questions…"
Carlisle hated where this was going. "Charlie has been provided with an explanation and whether he believes it or not, he does not ask questions or investigate it further. Our secret is safe."
"Regardless, my point stands," Aro continued. "Too close, too fine a line. I have to ensure our safety."
And while an onlooker could have believed Aro meant the safety of their kind, the safety of vampires, Carlisle knew that was not his intent. He meant his safety. The Volturi's safety. The safe and continued custody of power in his hand.
He came to stop in front of Carlisle once again, his pacing paused. With one raised eyebrow he spoke. "And our safety can be ensured only through your obedience. Your ability to follow orders so that you may enforce those orders. The collective betterment over your personal liberty."
"I decapitated my wife on your command," Carlisle was ready to yell and yet he kept his voice low, emotionless.
"Not without protest, my dear," Aro smiled.
And his smile widened when a small clamor sounded outside. It was far. But it was inside the castle. Humans. "Heidi is back!" Aro clapped his hand in child-like excitement and Carlisle's heart sank.
The last thing he wished to do was watch the Volturi slaughter innocents. But if Aro was willing to exchange his family's life for Carlisle's obedience, he would give it to him. It did not sound like too many people. Less than the ones he was used to seeing. He had been made to stand in during meal times before, when Aro wanted Carlisle to switch to human blood. They would bring around thirty people in at a time. This time, it sounded less, perhaps half of that.
The sound was getting closer. Excited chirp. Heartbeats. Gasps at seeing something remarkable. Shutter and click of the cameras. A growling stomach. A child whining to his mother.
Carlisle tried his best to detach himself from the sound. From the people. He was about to watch them be slaughtered. It would not do him any good to listen in too closely. To see them as people, as living beings right before their lives came to a frightening end.
They were close now. Almost near the gate. He could make out individual voices. He took a sharp sniff, and felt a minuscule amount of relief. Despite Heidi's presence and what it entailed, Jacob, Leah and Seth had kept their distance. They had not tried to sneak into the city.
Instead, Carlisle focused on his granddaughter. On her quick and erratic heartbeat. This fast a heart rate had he heard in a human he would have been scrambling in worry. But right now, he put his singular focus on this sound, tuning out everything else. Using it as an anchor.
He was to stand helpless while people were murdered before his eyes.
As much as it pained him, he fisted his hands and locked his muscles in place. He would not move. He would not interfere. Unquestioned obedience. Carlisle would not stop the Volturi slaughter.
Renesmee heard the sound of the approaching humans a lot later than he did and her breathing hitched when it happened. She was nervous and Carlisle wanted to comfort her, embrace her. But that would mean stepping over or around the pile of his family's body.
He stayed still. There'd be time later. Dear Lord he hoped there would be a later.
The guards shifted, just a little, just enough that their hulking figure and dark cloaks would hide him and his family, both standing and shredded, behind a circle of gray.
Heidi pushed open the door, walking in as she explained the salient features of the hall they were entering, the architectural marvel that doubled as their gallows. The humans trickled in.
"Obedience, Carlisle," Aro whispered to him, once again far closer than Carlisle preferred.
Carlisle ground his teeth and stayed put.
There were no screams. None yet. The touristic chatter first reduced and then died down. The human senses were not as sharp as theirs but they had a survival instinct. And while they had not yet identified the danger, they certainly felt it. The strangeness of the people in cloaks.
He could hear several hearts pick up speed, many breaths stop or quicken. Whispered mutters.
Heidi was still talking but Carlisle doubted the humans were listening. He certainly wasn't. He fought against the onslaught of tachycardic heartbeats and focused on the one he was most familiar with. Renesmee's heart was racing as well, in anticipation or confusion, she didn't know. He didn't either.
The door shut with a loud bang. Two guards quickly took their place in front of it, faster than any human had a chance to even turn. Heidi stopped talking.
A beat of silence.
And then, through a gap in the cloaks, the first human caught sight of the mangled heap that was his family. Her scream was loud, ringing in the silence of the room. The first.
And then, the others joined.
The guards pulled back, dragging Renesmee and Edward, or what was left of him, against the wall with the rest of the Volturi guard.
Some saw what the first woman saw. Some saw the red eyes.
The air in the room almost throbbed with the adrenaline infused racing hearts. They rushed towards the now-locked door they had entered from. Some tried to attack Heidi who swatted them away like flies. One man landed halfway across the room and Carlisle heard his bone break.
Nothing very serious. Nothing he couldn't fix if given the time and a splint.
He did nothing.
Carlisle could feel the temperature of the room notch up by a degree and a half, the heat from their terrified bodies warming up the air. He looked at Aro, the bright red of his eyes darkening, just a bit.
He was tempted. But not thirsty.
The day that Carlisle had spent in Volterra before this nightmare, he had noted most guards had red eyes. They had hunted recently.
This show, this slaughter wasn't for sustenance. It was a lesson.
Carlisle looked up impassively at Aro, waiting for him to signal his guards to feast. The older vampire leaned forward and staring straight at Carlisle, stage whispered, "Help yourself."
A buzz of electricity went through Carlisle, the force enough that his dead heart almost shuddered. His eyes widened and fixed themselves on Aro.
What did he mean?
Once again, Aro had no need to use his powers of tactile telepathy. The horror on Carlisle's face was visible to him as easily as a neon sign.
Aro stepped back and smiled, his hands wide.
"It is time for you to embrace your natural diet of human blood, my friend," Aro spoke, confident that his intended audience with ultra-sharp hearing would hear him despite the screams and the struggles of the frightened humans.
Carlisle did not move. But he did not make a sound either.
Unquestioned obedience.
No, no, no, no. He couldn't do it.
"You wanted a barter, did you not?" Aro asked out loud. Some of the humans had reduced their effort to get away, enamored by what was happening before them. Some looked between Aro and him, in the center of the circular room with a pile of bodies around them.
"This is my offer," Aro continued. "Feed off two humans for each member of your family. Do so, and you and yours may leave in peace."
Their fear returned ten-fold at his words, even if they could not fully comprehend what it entailed. Some of the braver men in the crowd tried to fight the guards.
It was futile. Perhaps even they knew it. They had seen Heidi's strength. They had seen the guards' speed.
No, no, no, no, no.
Carlisle's head was a deafening chorus of the same word again and again. He had abstained for so long, fought against every temptation. All for a chance at the happier of the two afterlives, both of which dedicatedly eluded him. All for a chance to be good in the eyes of the Lord that had created him.
But Carlisle said nothing. He looked at Aro, wishing, praying that the man would change his mind. That he would not make Carlisle do it. Outwardly, he said nothing. Even a whisper of protest would undermine whatever he would do next and give Aro an excuse to negate his actions.
Aro raised an eyebrow at him and when he still did not move, a subtle twitch in his lips gave the guard his cue.
Renesmee's heart picked up speed when Edward was dragged forward. "Dad," she whispered.
But this time, she did not look at Carlisle. Did not implore her grandfather to submit to the wishes of this man. This time, she knew better. She knew what was being asked of him.
Yet, her fear for her father was evident in her heart and her breaths.
Carlisle listened to it. Focused on it and not on his son standing before the pile in the center of the room, blind and senseless, lacking a hand and a leg.
Another moment passed by. Carlisle remained motionless, his body locked. Aro gave the most subtle shift of head and the guard reached out. In one swift, twisting motion, Edward's head joined the rest of his family's, his body joining with a thud a second later.
The room erupted in screams, humans scrambling.
He could hear Renesmee's scream too, wordless and agonized. Terrified. Yet she did not implore him to do as he was commanded.
"I will accept the limit of my knowledge about hybrid children," Aro spoke, clearly despite the mayhem around them. "But I speak with some certainty that young Renesmee would not survive this form of dismemberment."
Just as he spoke, Renesmee was pulled through and made to stand exactly where her father had been a moment back.
"Or perhaps you would trade the rest of your family for your granddaughter?" Aro asked, theatrically stepping closer to where his family lay. Carlisle did not look at them. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
But that was not the horror that made his eyes widen. It was the small, golden lighter that Aro pulled out of his pocket.
"No."
The word was a near deafening clang in his head, constant and overwhelming. But this time, it ran past his lips, a whisper, a plea.
Aro clicked the lighter. Carlisle smelled the fuel. He saw the spark. He heard the gush as the fuel and the spark merged into a tiny, deadly flame. He felt the minuscule warmth emanating from it on his skin.
His eyes remained fixed on it, as the lighter escaped Aro's gentle grasp, hurtling towards the ground. Hurtling towards the blond cascade of Rosalie's hair.
And Carlisle was forced to look at the sight he had been dedicatedly avoiding.
Rosalie, her hair fanned out around her head, one end on the approaching destination of the lighter, the other side scattered over Jasper's calf. Jasper, strewn over Alice. Alice's hand crushing under Emmett. Emmett's large form, touching Bella's torso under him and overlapped by Edward on top. And Edward, his son's long arm stretched out towards his mother.
That one flame, one spark, it would take his entire family out in a matter of seconds.
But before Carlisle could hurl himself onto its path, put himself between the flame and his daughter, quick hands caught it.
Fraction of a second between the lighter left Aro's finger and once again was grasped in his palm.
"Oops," he smiled. "Almost dropped it."
There was no illusion of mistake. This was a promise of the future. A future that Carlisle would have to witness, to live through within moments if he did not move. He broke free of the physical lock he had placed on himself, for the first time in four centuries feeling weak. Too weak to even carry his own weight.
He staggered one step before he fell down on his knees. Sitting in front of his family. And across the pile, Aro stood, Renesmee at his side, the lighter in his hand.
"You know what to do my dear," Aro stage-whispered again. "It is an effortless trade. Their life, for your family's."
Carlisle looked around him, at the humans scattered around the room. A mother and her young son stood to his right, pressing themselves against the far wall, hoping they'd be invisible. The mother pulled her son behind him the moment Carlisle's eyes went in their direction. He looked around. Young men and women in the prime of their youth. Children perhaps as young as his granddaughter. An old couple in the dusk of their life.
Sixteen.
Carlisle counted exactly sixteen humans in that hall.
And before him, seven of his family lay senseless, and one stood terrified. Eight.
Was that a fair trade? Could a trade of life ever be fair?
Carlisle did not try to answer those questions. Not yet at least. They would haunt him, he knew. For as long as he lived, he would question this. But not right now. Fair or not, the answer was irrelevant to him at the moment. He quashed it, stored away in the corner of his brain, just like most of his emotions were being stored away in a corner. To be mulled over and experienced later. To be felt with the correct intensity and impact later. Not right now though.
It was his family.
He knew what he had to do. But how? He did not have it in him to get on his feet. How could he do what Aro bid him to do?
"Dr. Cullen?" A voice, a human voice asked him and Carlisle's heart sank, heavy as a rock. Nobody in the Volturi would address him as such. He whirled around, still on his knees. One of the humans, an old woman easily in her nineties, was walking towards him.
Carlisle could hear panting, and only weak struggles now. The humans were watching too. The room, silent.
The woman walked towards him and Carlisle looked at her face, trying to put a name to it. She certainly knew him.
Her steps were slow but firm as she approached him. He offered his hand when she held hers out, an automatic response to her call for aide. She lowered herself in front of him.
"Dr. Cullen, do you remember me?" she asked.
Carlisle gave a small shake of his head. His mind flashed back over the face of every patient he had treated in the past few years, and none were that of this tiny old woman.
"My name is Alberta Evans," she said and Carlisle sucked in a breath. The air, with itself brought the memory and recognition back. Her smell had changed with age, but he knew her alright. "I was a nurse under you in the 40s. 1940, winter."
Alberta Evans, he did remember. The young woman who had joined the team of nurses under him right before an epidemic of Influenza had gripped the nation. The new world hadn't joined the war just yet but the effect was there. The shortage of supplies and manpower. The relative apathy to a smaller epidemic after the devastating pandemic two decades earlier, and in face of the growing war in Europe. The hospital in the small, sleepy, rainy town had been stretched thin with the influx of patients and his staff were overworked.
Full of enthusiasm and dedication, he had found Alberta taking naps in the nooks and crannies of the hospital floor so that she would not have to go back home and could continue her work in the hospital.
Carlisle nodded at the wrinkled old woman before him. Her eyes were the same.
"You remember, there was a night when there were just four of us, and in a single night, we had to admit 38 patients, most of them not likely to see another nightfall?" she asked him.
Carlisle had a feeling, in his heart of hearts, that this woman, despite the veil of time and the limited capacity of her human brain, remembered that night with as much clarity as he did.
"When the morning came, you stayed back," she continued. "You had already been in the hospital for forty-eight hours straight. You stayed another day, and another night. The morning after, all thirty eight of the patients that we had admitted were stable and we were scolded. Do you remember that?"
He did. She was standing right beside him when the hospital superintendent had called the two to his office and reprimanded them for the inhumane hours of work they were putting in before sending them off to their respective houses to rest.
He said nothing. He didn't need to. This nonagenarian didn't need any confirmation. She had no question. The man in front of her eyes was the young doctor she had worked with seventy years ago.
"You saved them, Dr. Cullen," she said, a smile on her lips that heavily crinkled the skin around her eyes and cheeks. This woman had smiled often in her life. Her face and her wrinkles were a testament to that. "You saved more than twice as many people as are here, in a span of two days. Countless more in the six years you worked at our hospital."
"What are you trying to say?" Carlisle whispered.
A part of her wished she hadn't introduced herself. That she had remained a nameless, wrinkled face in the memories that would torment him for the rest of eternity.
"Save your family. Do what you must," she said, grasping his hand tightly, their knees almost touching on the floor.
"Shut up you old hag!" A man shouted at her, taking a few angry steps towards her but not brave enough to approach the pile behind Carlisle's back or Aro. "You don't speak for us!"
Alberta smiled again, she was generous with her affection that way. She ignored the man who had shouted and continued, her voice audible to all in the otherwise silent chamber. "We are all going to be killed anyway. There is no way out that door for us," she said, smart enough to understand the truth. "You can't protect us. You might as well save your family."
She never broke eye-contact as she lightly tilted her head, exposing her neck, and squeezed his hands in encouragement.
No, no, no, no, no-
Carlisle's inner chant came to a halt. There was nothing to do now. He could not deny it. Aro was interested in their story, Carlisle could tell by his hovering presence behind him. But he would not give him all that much time either.
He did not know whether trading lives could ever be fair.
But in that moment, there was one trade Carlisle was willing to make. He would take hell's eternal fire over the small, golden flame that Aro dangled over his family.
Carlisle looked at Alberta, her expectant, encouraging face, untouched by fear. He brought her hands to his lips, placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. She leaned her head forward and he placed her hands on her knees before he cradled her face.
And for the second time, in far too short a time, Carlisle snapped a neck. He had to kill her, he had no way out from that. But he would not make her endure the agony that his venom inflicted.
He supported her head, now twisted at an unnatural angle, in his right hand and with his left, he brushed her hair back, away from her neck.
He leaned forward another inch or so till his lips brushed over the soft skin of her neck.
Have mercie vpon me, O God, according to thy louing kindnes: according to the multitude of thy compassions put away mine iniquities.
Carlisle enunciated the words in his mind. His lips pulled back and his razor sharp teeth grazed Alberta's skin. With a finality Carlisle raced past the point of no return. His teeth sank in, breaking through the structures overlying it till it reached the carotid artery. The old woman's heart no longer beat. But the vital artery was still full of the delectable liquid. The blood gushed out of the artery, flooding Carlisle's mouth. His senses, overwhelmed.
His tongue refused to let go of the taste that had been denied to it for four centuries and his mouth filled up, the exhilarating taste of the blood covering every nerve fiber, every sensation in his mouth. He felt the heavenly liquid dribble out of the corner of his lips and his brows furrowed.
Waste.
He could not waste it.
Carlisle swallowed, and his entire body lurched forward, into Alberta's. His lips clamped harder around the wound his teeth had created. As the blood passed down his throat, Carlisle felt he was touched in places he did not know existed within him. It was a sensation he never knew just how desperately he craved. And now that he knew it existed, he did not wish for it to ever stop.
A depraved, animalistic orgasm to a whole new kind of lust.
Carlisle had tasted human blood. He had tasted Edward's blood. And Esme's. And Rosalie and Emmett's.
But the tasting had never been his primary intention in any of those cases. He was short on time, in a hurry. He had a different motive. He had bitten down into an artery, his teeth lingering just long enough for his venom to touch the bloodstream before he withdrew and repeated the process at another site.
Each of those times, he was injecting, introducing.
Now, he was relishing.
He swallowed a second mouthful and the sensations overwhelmed him once again. But his mouth was now empty. The blood flowed in only as a small trickle. Alberta's heart had stopped and he had emptied out the vicinity of the artery.
His lips never loosened the clamp he had on her neck. He inhaled, the sweet scent of her blood intoxicating his olfactory senses the way the taste overwhelmed his gustatory senses. And with that inhale, Carlisle sucked. The force pulled the blood from the farthest corner of the old woman's body, rushing it all towards him. Each drop raced against the other to satiate a need in him that had remained unfulfilled for four centuries.
Carlisle drank, the blood flowing from his mouth, down to his throat, into his stomach and intestine. It was absorbed into his vessels immediately.
He had hunted a day before he came to Volterra.
This blood burnt away at the animal blood in his system, destroying the foreign substance with an almost pitiful ease.
A force within Alberta, almost a heartbeat, sent a gush of extra blood into his mouth and Carlisle froze.
A heartbeat?
No. The doctor in Carlisle rationalized that it was just an isolated muscle spasm here and there. And the doctor in Carlisle also realized what he was doing. The vampire let out a shriek of dismay but he was quashed quickly. Perhaps too quickly.
The blood lost its exhilaration. It lost its appeal. And Carlisle tasted, for the first time, tasted murder.
By the time the thought had finished forming, Carlisle had already drained Alberta's body dry. His lips let go.
The hair on the back of his neck raised and he was aware that every single eye in the room was on him, both human and immortal. He pulled back, and laid down Alberta on the ground in front of him, arranging her body that had the people not just witnessed him murdering her, they would have believed her to be asleep.
He sat back on his haunches, his hands gripping his knees.
He did not look at anyone, his eyes tightly shut but his senses were more heightened than they had ever been. He could hear sixteen hearts hammering. He could hear the tachypneic fear. He could hear the even, unnecessary breaths of his fellow immortals. Whimpers so quiet that they would not be audible even to the person who created them. Sweat beading on people's forehead. The nervous shuffle. The forced stillness.
Carlisle was aware of everything.
"Seven and a half more to save," Aro's sing-song voice was not loud but Carlisle could hear it so much better than earlier. Aspects of it that had eluded him before. The sadism, the glee.
Carlisle had just drained a grown, albeit petite woman. That was enough for a normal vampire to last them a week. But somehow that was not the case with Carlisle. The human blood he had consumed…it felt like most of it was used up in burning away the animal blood present in him, leaving him half thirsty.
"Please," a small whimper reached his ears. His head spun to face the terrified mother. She held her son behind her, his face pressed against her back so that the young child would not have to witness what was coming for him. She swallowed, audibly and loudly for half the people in the room, fighting her own fears and addressed the monster who was going to take her life. "Please make it quick."
Her terrified request.
Carlisle's dead heart shattered into a million pieces, looking at this young mother. Younger than even Bella.
"He's scared," she spoke again, aware of the eyes on her. "Please don't make him suffer too much."
Carlisle tore his eyes away from the woman and turned on his heels. He was kneeling now, in front of Aro. He looked up at the ancient vampire.
They had done this many times, during better days, communicating with just eyes. Conversations that they had, without even Renata, who never left Aro's side, privy. They had shared jokes, and opinions and feelings without a single outsider listening in. A secret language, entirely their own.
And that day, Carlisle kneeling before the man who was once his equal, his friend, spoke in that language again. A permission he sought from no one but Aro. A request.
When Carlisle had stood beside him, all those centuries ago, the golden eyed vampire had never asked for any favors or trinkets or things. Yet Aro had showered him with whatever he had deemed interest-worthy of his friend.
Now Carlisle bowed before him, just as the world had.
Mercy.
That was all Carlisle asked of Aro. For himself. For the humans who were doomed. For his family.
For a moment, Aro looked at Carlisle. There were many languages the two of them knew that none of the others, mortals or immortals, around them spoke. But words were not what Aro needed. He answered Carlisle in their language. A language of silence and glances.
Mercy, Aro gave his assent.
Carlisle was on his feet and in front of the mother in less than tenth of a second. She was startled by his sudden appearance. But she closed her eyes and bowed her head.
What was crueler? Letting a mother witness her child dying or murdering a child's mother before his eyes?
Yet another question Carlisle did not have the answer to.
He placed a gentle hand on the side of the mother's neck. Carlisle saw her go rigid, her heart accelerated but she did not move, she did not scream. She just squeezed her eyes and held her son closer.
He placed his second hand on the child's neck.
Wash me throughly from mine iniquitie, and clense me from my sinne. For I know mine iniquities, and my sinne is euer before me.
The words formed in his mind, his hopeless plea to the Lord he had been devoted to for hundreds of years. He would beg for forgiveness, even though he knew his sin was unforgivable. Two simultaneous crunches and he laid the mother and the child on the ground.
It was the only mercy he could accord these people. Reduce their fear, shorten their suffering. He flashed before the man who had opposed Alberta.
Against thee, against thee onely haue I sinned, and done euill in thy sight, that thou mayest be iust when thou speakest, and pure when thou iudgest.
The man took a step back, a step away.
"No," he shouted.
His resolution broke Carlisle on the inside. On the outside, Carlisle's quick strength broke his neck.
He laid the man down and flashed to his next victim.
The old man who had entered with Alberta greeted him with a rueful smile.
"She spoke highly of you, you know," he said. "Back when we first met."
He sighed and then dipped his head. "Do what you must. Reunite me with my love."
Beholde, I was borne in iniquitie, and in sinne hath my mother conceiued me.
The man passed with the smile still on his face.
Carlisle moved anti-clockwise to the next one.
A young couple, the man had his back to Carlisle, the woman covered in a protective embrace.
Beholde, thou louest trueth in the inwarde affections: therefore hast thou taught mee wisedome in the secret of mine heart. Purge me with hyssope, and I shalbe cleane: wash me, and I shalbe whiter then snowe.
They fell within a fraction of a second of each other, their embrace unbroken even in death.
Three girls, squeezing each other's hands, tears streaming down their faces.
Make me to heare ioye and gladnes,that the bones, which thou hast broken, may reioyce. Hide thy face from my sinnes, and put away all mine iniquities. Create in mee a cleane heart, O God, and renue a right spirit within me.
Two men. They tried to run. The futility of their endeavor broke Carlisle's heart.
Cast mee not away from thy presence, and take not thine holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the ioy of thy saluation, and stablish me with thy free Spirit.
A family of four. Children too young to understand what was going on. The parents begged him to spare them.
Then shall I teache thy wayes vnto the wicked, and sinners shalbe conuerted vnto thee. Deliuer me from blood, O God, which art the God of my saluation, and my tongue shall sing ioyfully of thy righteousnes. Open thou my lippes, O Lord, and my mouth shall shewe foorth thy praise. For thou desirest no sacrifice, though I would giue it: thou delitest not in burnt offering.
The only heart that still beat in that chamber was Renesmee's.
Carlisle turned back to Aro.
He was silent. The guards were silent. Renesmee was as silent as she could be given her thundering heart and shaky breaths.
Carlisle sent out a last plea for forgiveness.
The sacrifices of God are a contrite spirit: a contrite and a broken heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.
And then, he knelt, crouching over the father of the family he had just killed. He tilted the still man's head and bent over. Blood flowed into his mouth.
It was strange.
The frenzy was gone. Carlisle drained the man and moved to his wife. It took all the blood from the two adults to burn away the animal blood in his body. His throat was burning and he was thirsty by the time he reached for the children.
So young, so small. It did nothing to quench his thirst.
He moved over to the men who had tried to run.
Their blood had purpose. He drained one quickly, and finished off the second.
The blood flowed into his intestines and once again flooded the vessels around it.
The first girl of the trio. The blood reached his liver and a little beyond.
The second girl. The blood drained from the liver and through the major veins, into the upper right chamber of his heart.
The third girl, it filled up his second heart chamber, saturated his lungs and reached all the way back into the third and fourth chambers of his heart, overflowing into the major arteries.
By the time Carlisle was finished with the man, the blood had reached into his major vessels, filling up every single artery, capillary and vein. It had flowed out from the vessels and saturated every tissue in his body. From his brain, all the way to the tip of his toe and everything in between.
He had consumed more blood and in a shorter amount of time than ever before. Faster than a newborn would. More than a newborn would. Faster than his body could process.
Carlisle was beyond satiated. Beyond quenched. He was overwhelmed.
The blood that had initially been slow to reach the different parts of his body now flowed and flooded every single cell within him. His venom reacted strangely and strongly to this new type of blood, taking a life of their own. He could almost imagine them with their hackles raised.
Shifting from the man to the woman was more effort than he cared to believe, the sloshing within him unbearable. His heightened senses aggravated his own discomfort.
"Please," he whispered, crouched over the woman, unable to bring himself to bite. "Please, no more."
"Three more Carlisle," Aro's voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. He was not encouraging. He was stating a fact.
It was Renesmee's hammering heart that forced him to drain the woman.
Carlisle had a tough time thinking, reasoning. He was at the peak of his strength. His speed. His senses. Everything better than it had ever been. Yet all it did was make him more acutely aware of his actions. Of the murders he had committed.
He did not do it unintentionally. He did not do it accidentally. He did not do it for sustenance. These people weren't criminals.
No, he killed innocent men, women and children.
And now, gluttony punished him harder than he imagined it could. Things were happening in his body that he did not quite understand. His venom was agitated as well as exhilarated at the presence of human blood. Empowered beyond Carlisle's will.
He was not drinking neatly, respectfully.
He was growling, in frustration and in greed. Hating the gluttony but unable to stop. He could hear every slurp and every swallow ringing in the silence of the room, interluded only by the animalistic sounds escaping the base of his throat.
He wanted to stop. He could not.
Every extra drop was reaching the point of being painful. Blood drooled and dribbled all over his chin, smeared over his hands and lips and face and he continued.
He finished the woman.
Then moved to the mother.
A snarl escaped through his teeth.
He sat on his knees beside the woman, his hands by his side. He was shaking, rocking back and forth, trying to burn off the blood already in his system. His fingers dug into the ancient marble of the floor, crushing it to dust. He threw his head back and snarled, louder than he ever had. Uncontrolled feelings flew through him. Feelings he could not name. One instant they were there, the next, they weren't.
He felt it this time.
Corin. Using her power on him. And he knew she had used it not too long ago as well, when he first tasted human blood. He had felt its effect but couldn't name it, identify it. But he had fought it off.
This time though, his senses were heightened, his emotions already all over the place. She was close by, a few steps away from him, right beside Chelsea. His larger, more lithe form hurled itself at her. His fingers closed around her neck, silencing the alarmed scream that threatened to escape her throat. He pulled his lips back, baring his teeth right in her face as he held her against the wall, dangling a good foot off the ground.
He could see her marble skin, flawless and unmarred. He could so easily tear her to shreds. He wanted to.
Fire.
Fire shot through him and he dropped Corin and through the blazing agony turned towards the petite vampire looking at him. His screams were inhuman, the pain more intense than it had ever been. Yet it was not enough to stop him.
Perhaps nobody expected him to remain mobile through Jane's gift. Whatever the reason may be, he was upon the little girl faster than possible, even for a vampire and, grabbing her by her hair, hurled her across the hall. The pain stopped.
She flew through Caius' chair, smashing it to pieces before she corrected herself and pivoted off the wall, landing on the ground.
Some of the more hulking guards made to approach him but Aro held up his hand.
Carlisle turned towards him, his hands on the ground, nails scratching at and destroying the ancient, irreplaceable marble. He crouched, ready to pounce and he could see Renata agitated with nerves and focus.
The guards were all restless.
"I am doing what you asked of me," Carlisle snarled. "Tell your hounds to keep their claws out of me."
Despite the tension in the air. Despite Jane's glare and Corin's fear as she clung to Chelsea. Despite the guards' worry for the safety of their master, Aro ignored everything.
He laughed.
The sound strange and confusing.
It took Carlisle by surprise too. His blood-saturated body did not like being surprised. He was ready to lunge when Aro stepped forward and grabbed him by his arms.
Renata let out a strangled cry, clinging to Aro as close as his cloak, unable to keep Carlisle away when her master himself was the one to approach.
Aro pulled Carlisle up and looked at his face, with a strange emotion. Carlisle snarled, his bloodied, bared teeth inches from Aro's face. But Aro's smile did not waver.
Instead he leaned closer.
A warning growl rumbled deep in Carlisle's throat at his approach. The guards had closed in, Renata was practically pressed against Aro's back.
Carlisle watched, wary, as Aro leaned closer still, tilting his head to the side, leaning towards his throat. Carlisle's face spun to the side too, his eyes passing the warning. The usually mild mannered, golden-eyed vampire was not ready to accept anything he perceived as a threat.
Aro looked at him. Into his eyes. And communicated in a language that Carlisle was more wont to listen to than spoken words.
Beautiful.
The word confused Carlisle. Enough to give him a pause. Aro identified the opportunity and once again leaned forward. This time from the front so as to not agitate the already snarling man.
The Volturi king touched his lips to the corner of Carlisle's lips. Aro's lips parted slightly, his tongue darting out. He remained careful not to accidentally graze Carlisle's skin with his teeth. The state the younger vampire was in, Aro was certain his head would be across the room from his body before any of his guards could reach him.
Instead, all Carlisle felt was the slick, preposterous wetness of Aro's tongue on his skin. In a slow, deliberate motion Aro licked his face, a straight line starting from the lower corner of his lips up to just a little below his eyes. Aro pulled back slightly and Carlisle saw the trace of blood on his lips, the flush of red on his tongue. He stared into Aro's eyes, looking at his own reflection.
He almost did not identify the man staring back at him. It was no man. Instead, an animal, a feral monster glared at him, lips pulled back, teeth bared, face covered in blood. Carlisle felt Aro's venom on his face with a shudder and looked at the man again.
Beautiful.
Aro repeated and this time, leaned in to place a firm kiss on Carlisle's lips.
He broke it off.
Mine.
He said and kissed Carlisle again. Venom pooled into Carlisle's mouth, his mixing with Aro's and together, almost sizzling at the abundance of blood in Carlisle.
Something was wrong.
Aro pulled back again, his eyes wide with marvel at the sight before him. But when Carlisle looked at his reflection in the red of Aro's eyes, he saw nothing to marvel at. He felt disgust.
Aro grinned up at this beast he had created.
Carlisle's hands clawed, his mind still seething at the last word Aro had communicated. Mine.
No, something was wrong with it. But he couldn't place his finger on what it was. It felt wrong. It was never spoken but it sounded wrong. Every fiber in his being told him it was wrong.
Carlisle looked at Aro. His mouth moved, his lungs pushed air into his larynx. He formed the words. And in the most hateful voice that had ever left his lips, Carlisle spoke out loud.
"Esme's."
The words ground out through his teeth.
"And Edward and Emmett's. Rosalie and Jasper's. Bella and Alice and Renesmee's."
Carlisle saw Aro's surprise at his verbal rebuttal but his amusement, his pride did not decrease.
"Finish your meal," Aro said, as if to a child. "And you can be theirs again."
Carlisle's muscles tightened at the condescension. But a part of Carlisle fought this beast that wanted to lunge at Aro and rip him to pieces. Aro's hands were still on his bare shoulders, the man aware of every thought going through Carlisle's mind. Despite the almost unbearable desire bubbling in Carlisle to attack, Aro remained unperturbed. Almost curious as to the fight going on inside Carlisle's head.
Carlisle pulled away, turning back to the woman and the child. He yanked the woman off the floor, into his arm and biting down onto her throat, sucked in hard. His body protested the overload vehemently, his stomach almost recoiling.
He dropped the half drained woman unceremoniously to the ground and picked up the child.
The young boy, he almost finished despite his body burning.
Then he dropped the boy beside his mother and turned back to Aro.
"Let us leave in peace," Carlisle said, his voice neither even nor soft. Aro smiled.
He gestured at a guard who flew out and back inside the room before the door had opened fully.
He held a small gray, a medium sized white and a large black cloth. A rag, a shirt and a sack, Carlisle's mind supplied.
Aro took the rag from the guard first. He stepped closer, an eyebrow raised, seeking his permission. Carlisle stayed still and Aro took that as a yes, stepping forward.
He pressed the rag against Carlisle's temple and wiped down, lightly scrubbing his face so that the blood that hadn't crusted over was wiped away. He cleaned Carlisle's chin too, and held up his hand, as if to placate him when Carlisle growled at the movement of the cloth towards his throat.
Aro stilled for a second, gauging Carlisle's every thought before he continued. The growl persisted the entire time that Aro cleaned his throat before he proceeded lower, lightly wiping off the red from Carlisle's chest and shoulders.
Once done, Aro dropped the rag. He wasn't spotless. But now his pale skin had a tint, a light covering of red, instead of dripping with blood.
He took the shirt from the guard and handed it to Carlisle who looked at it warily for a second before he had it on.
Aro then passed the massive sack to Carlisle and with one hand, gestured to the pile that was his family. The guards stepped away, as did Aro.
Carlisle heard Renata take a sigh of relief.
He leaned down and spread out the sack. It was massive, its radius larger than Carlisle was tall. Piece by piece, he picked up his family. Someone's hand, someone's head. And he placed them into the bag. In no particular order. He picked the larger body parts with as much ease as he picked up the smaller ones.
He placed Esme into the bag at the very end, the very top, carefully placing her head away from the rest of her body. It would not do well if her body rejoined while she was still in the bag. He pulled the string, closing the mouth and stood up.
Renesmee whimpered and Carlisle's eyes snapped in her direction, his vision zeroing in on the tightened grip Afton had on her hands.
He did not see it coming. Carlisle once again launched himself. He grabbed the guard by the collar with one hand and tossed him to the side. He did not have Jane's agility to correct himself and instead crashed into Carlisle's intended target with a thundering crash.
Chelsea and Corin disentangled themselves from under Afton, all three ready to attack him. Perhaps it was Aro's order. Perhaps it was Carlisle's face. They did not.
Carlisle looked at Chelsea and Corin, hard.
And somewhere, deep within him, he found himself…pitying them.
Corin held to the Volturi under Chelsea's influenced loyalty. Chelsea staying with the Volturi under Corin's addictive contentment. Those two were as much Aro's prisoners as any other guard there.
Carlisle shook his head. Despite what Aro liked to claim, the Volturi were not a family. With Chelsea's influence negated, not many of them would stay with them. Few of them had absolute loyalty to Aro. Jane and Alec certainly. Chelsea, perhaps but Aro was not willing to test that theory by asking Corin to stop using her gift on her. Demetri, their tracker would rush to either Amun the moment the influence faded or wander off on his own.
Carlisle looked at several of the guards. These were Aro's most loyal ones and yet Carlisle was certain for most of them that their loyalty was neither earned nor sincere. It was influenced.
He shook his head and his eyes focused on his granddaughter again. He offered her a hand and she took a hesitant step closer to him. And then immediately darted at him. It took every ounce of will power Carlisle had to convince himself it was not an attack. He wrapped an arm around the girl who hugged him, tightly and silently.
Over her shoulder, Aro and Carlisle's eyes met.
Aro gave a nod, his expression a little rueful. But Carlisle heard what he did not say.
You are free to leave. Your family is safe.
For how long? Carlisle had no idea. But he did not idle to ponder that. There would be time for that. Instead, he grabbed Renesmee around the waist, pulling her feet slightly off the ground with one arm and tugged the huge and relatively heavy bag with the other. In an instant, Carlisle was flying through the tunnels in the underbelly of Volterra, the fresh breath of the open, Italian countryside getting closer with each step he took.
In his mind, one questioned hammered away. What was his family going to think of him now?
A/N:
So, I took a couple days more than what I usually take to write. But I am hoping the length of this chapter makes up for the delay.
A shoutout to snv1995 on reddit who told me the perfect verse for Carlisle to turn to in a situation like this. I took the text from the Geneva Bible that was apparently used in the 17th century. But my knowledge of Christianity as well as British history is severely limited. So, if I made any errors, please let me know. The verse is Psalm 51 for those who wish to look it up.
Do share your thoughts. Your reviews make my day and encourage me to keep writing even when my motivation is lacking.
Lastly, I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!
-ZQ