I own nothing written by Stephenie Meyer.
Beta: Arizona Hale
Pre-reader: Kitty
Special thanks to the above mentioned for this chapter. Seriously, you guys are rockstars and this chapter wouldn't have been as good without your corrections and advice.
The following takes place around 20-30 minutes after Edward, Tony, Emmett, and Brent are placed in their separate rooms. It's all T-POV.
The air is musty and old; it leaves a woodsy after taste on the back of my tongue. I swallow again, or at least try to. Sweet, thick venom does nothing to quench my thirst, like downing maple syrup when all you want is water. I clamp down on my jaw just as I feel another rumble in my chest manifest. Indecision still mucks up my mind as I kick myself off of the door to examine the room; several broken desks rest against the right wall, dusty and pathetic looking, while a lone, oak, teacher's desk sits innocently near the back. Directly behind it is the chalkboard, and to its left is the window.
Vampires. Here. Of all the godforsaken cities on this damn planet, why-oh-fucking-why does it have to be this one? Are they with the Volturi or Joham? Clearly they're not hybrids, so the likelihood of them being with Joham is slim, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything…
I bite my lower lip and come to a stop in the middle of the room. I glance at the left wall, then the right.
I try to think critically; there are seven of them. Joham wouldn't station that many in just one measly city. He'd at least spread them out around the whole state, so the Volturi must be the best bet. After all, that blond bitch is obsessed with keeping the secret. A wave of dread hits me hard. I start pacing again, my right hand unconsciously running through my hair.
Isn't that what they do? Keep watch over a suspicious area, then report back to Italy? But what would be suspicious about this place? I replay my day to myself. According to Cole, these vamps have been here for about a year, long before we decided to move, so the reason for them being here can't be for us. Right?
I sit down on top of the teacher's desk and lean back until my body's laid out over the table with my arms behind my head. I close my eyes. Maybe I'm giving Joham and the vampire police too much props. And if that's the case, then there's only one other person in the world who would resort to such extreme measures to find our location.
Just the thought of her makes me feel…scared. Like a child. I hate it— the fear and paranoia, even after all these years. I still feel like she's here, watching me with that calculating, demonic look in her eyes.
She's dead, though. Dead and gone and never coming back.
But there's still her lackey, I remind myself. I remember the red-eyed blond, his face a mask of fury as he watched our plane ascend. The memory makes my skin crawl.
He's a tool. A stupid, love-struck, misguided, dangerously determined tool who has eternity to plot his so-called revenge.
Great.
He couldn't have known, though, that we would be returning to this part of North America. Not a chance in hell. Besides, no matter how much brainwashing he could have put any newborns through, they would have wised up fairly quickly after the first year and jumped ship. Especially if they were vegetarians. I remember the vamps' eyes in the cafeteria: gold.
There's one explanation left, and it makes the least sense: that they're here because they want to go to class, because they want to masquerade as humans. I've only been in the glorious western school system for a little more than a year, and I can't stand it. I can't imagine how it might feel for a normal vampire. And I don't care if it'll help with our cover story and force us to identify socially with our "peers" and "civilized" society; the minute I turn seven I'm done with this shit.
The whispered words coming from the room to my left draws my attention.
"No, I don't."
A pause. Edward speaks again.
"I don't care if you look older than me. The last I checked, you're still 95, and I'm 109. "
More silence. Confused, I look to the room to my right, then back to the room to my left.
"I don't know. They've already called his parents. We'll just have to wait and see," he says once more, sounding exasperated.
While Emmett never says a word, Edward keeps talking to him through the wall. No rhythmic noises in the back ground, so they're not doing Morse code— not to mention they can't see each other— so I guess I can rule out miming. It's almost as if… A particular memory prods insistently at my consciousness, begging to be remembered. As if…
My breathing hitches and my heart skips a beat.
"I know for a fact that the leader, Aro, can read minds," Nahuel says casually, as he leans back in his chair.
My tiny hands grasp the metal bars of the banister. Nahuel and Mom are downstairs in the kitchen, while Huilen, Miri and Reni are in the bathroom playing dress up. The edge of the kitchen floor and table, and Nahuel's chair by extension, is just barely visible from where I'm watching.
The clinking of the dishes stop. I can practically taste the fear and worry rolling off of Mom, but before I can ask her what's wrong, she speaks.
"So," she begins, tentatively, "everyone's plans are pretty much laid out before him."
Nahuel pauses in his seat, the back legs of his chair balancing precariously on the tiled floor. He arches forward, and with a thump, plants the front legs firmly back on the ground as he corrects himself.
"Sort of. It's a bit more complicated than that. He SEES everything the person has ever thought about. Practically your whole life story is revealed to him. There are drawbacks, though. He has to be touching the person in order to read them. But then again, from what I've heard, Aro doesn't go to his prey. The prey is brought to him."
I watch as he pulls a cigarette out of his front pocket and lights it with a match. He gets up from his chair and walks deeper into the kitchen where I can no longer see him; to the sink under the window, where Mom is. Wispy trails of smoke swirl up to me; the scent is similar to my own, but not really. It's chemically synthesized. Fake. I can taste the nicotine and burnt paper, bitter on my tongue.
"That won't hurt you?" Mom asks curiously.
He takes another drag before answering, "No. We're still half immortal, so we're naturally immune to any ailments suffered by the humans."
"Such as?"
"All diseases, including ones brought upon by certain lifestyle choices."Another long pause. The sound of the faucet gushing out water fills the silence.
"Anything else? About Aro?" she finally asks. He doesn't answer. Seconds tick by.
"Nahuel?"
"Are you sure you want to hear this?"
She lets out a frustrated sigh.
"Just tell me."
I lean in closer, grasping the metal bars impatiently.
"He's a collector. Of everything: art, treasure, clothing, books…people."
People? Like slaves?
"People?" Mom asks, confused as I am.
"Well, to be more specific, other vampire's abilities. He's always looking for interesting gifts he can add to his guard." The tinkling shatter of glass pierces the air. Mom's no longer breathing.
I don't get it. So the guy finds abilities interesting; what's so upsetting about that? Mom's so weird. First she gets sad over the piano, then this…I tune back in. Nahuel's voice has become a gentle murmur.
"Nothing will happen to them. He has no idea about us, and we've been around for over a century. Besides, it's not like he ever leaves his castle. He'd never get the chance to personally read any of our minds. Unless of course, one of us were to walk straight into his arms, and we know THAT'S not going to happen."
The sound of their footsteps signals that they are moving away from the window. I hear the scraping of chairs as Mom joins him at the kitchen table, Nahuel sitting again at its head, his back to me. Leaning back in his chair again, he twirls his cigarette in his hand before continuing on "We're lucky that bastard can't read people from a distance. Then we would REALLY be in trouble."
He can read minds.
I jolt upright and jump off of the desk, the panic rearing up. I feel my heart beat faster, the rapid chugs gushing torrents of blood through my veins and arteries furiously, trying to keep up with the frantic inhales and exhales of my lungs. If he CAN read minds, then that means he's seen everything that's gone through my head since the beginning of lunch. This isn't good. No, actually— this is far past bad. I've flown straight into a shit storm of epic proportions with no clear way of getting out.
"Oh shit," I breathe to myself, grasping the roots of my hair. I pace blindly around the room like a caged animal, trying to wrap my head around the concept. It's as I ponder my impossibly bad luck that I realize the room to my left is quiet. Too quiet. The silence is deafening. I can feel him listening in, waiting.
He's trying to read me, right now, I think to myself wildly. Think of something else. Don't focus on what you don't want him to know. Reni and Mom? No. I quash all thoughts pertaining to them. I definitely don't want him to know, or know anymore, about them.
C'mon, think! Lyrics? I start reciting fragments of miscellaneous songs from my iPod.
If this is what you want then fire at will
But on the surface he looks calm and ready
My insides crawl
Forfeit the game before somebody else takes the blame
You love the way I look at you
For a hill men would kill why, they do not know
And I'm'a do the best I can to not become a casualty
Enemies got me slippin' by the park in Moscow lark distracted by my cd skippin'
My head spins. I resist the urge to vomit. Okay, not working. What else?
Food?
Chicken enchiladas, hot and ready, spices exploding on my tongue. Raspberry sweet rolls, gooey and tangy. Jaguar—
NO!
A groan escapes my throat in desperation. I shut my eyes tight. The room is too hot. Too small. Even with the darkness it feels as though the walls are closing in. I can't take it anymore. I open my eyes, and just as I suspect, the emerald shards are waiting for me, dancing tantalizingly through the air. Luminescent, like sharp, flat slabs of broken glass, they mingle amidst one another, colliding but never breaking. I reach out and grab one. The area where I hold the shard immediately loses its sharpness and dulls, molding into the shape of my grasp perfectly like a knife's base. I slash it through the air, testing it. The other shards hover closer, waiting for my command.
Is this really happening? Am I really about to do this?
"Kill them, before they kill you." Nahuel's advice doesn't sound nearly as crazy as before. I take a deep breath and grip the shard tightly in my hand as I focus on controlling the rest.
"That's a bad idea," Edward says softly.
I look at the wall.
"I'm sorry about my family's overzealousness," he pauses before continuing, "and mine. But if you do this you'll be exposing us all." I breathe deep again, hating the uncertain shudder that escapes my mouth. The eerie calm of his words sends a chill down my spine. Who the hell talks like that?
A hundred-something year old vampire who's plotting to kill you.
"We're not going to hurt you."
"Bullshit," I can't help but say. My gaze freezes over the window; I need air. I let go of the shard and zip over to the opposite side of the room, easily lifting the glass pane to arch my head out into the storm. Rain drops splatter against my face, drenching my hair and it has never felt so good. I look down. We're on the top floor. The drop is five stories. If I jump from here, I can run around the building and make for home. I start to lift my foot.
Wait. What about the windows below? I listen and my heart sinks; all the classrooms beneath me are full. People would see me plummeting toward the ground, and that would completely defeat the purpose of "sneaking out." I drop my foot and look up at the sky, cursing Buddha, God, Muhammad, whatever divine entity has decided to place me in this predicament.
"Thanks a lot," I mutter to the clouds dejectedly. I receive a gust of wind in return. I'm about to pull my head back inside when my eye catches something underneath the window: the ledge.
Adrenalin-induced excitement sweeps over me, followed by relief.
I could just step onto the lower ledge and then climb up to the roof using the window sill, like Spider Man. Run down the fire escape and head home. No one would be any wiser. And they wouldn't be able to follow me. Everyone knows who they are; the whispers during the fight were proof enough. If any of them ran, it would draw too much unwanted attention towards them. My mind spins with the possibilities. But just as I step onto the sill, Edward speaks to me again from the other room.
"You won't get far."
I ignore him and pull myself up, grasping the sides of the window. I'm now crouched over the sill gargoyle style, my head and knees the only parts of my body sticking out into the rain. I look up at the grey, swollen sky. Icy, hard pellets of hail pitter-patter off the top of my forehead. I can see the foggy cloud of my breaths in the cold, moist air.
"Wait!" he snaps. I nearly lose my footing at the harshness in his voice.
"Just hear me out, for one second," he says in a steely tone, so different from the smooth calm he exhibited before. His voice is closer, more muffled. His lips must be practically on the wall.
"We're not who you think we are."
My hands grasp the sides of the window, tighter. The wood cracks. The floor and sill is sprinkled with paint chips.
"If you do this, everything my sister has seen will come true. We'll all die—"
There's something funny there. What does he mean by his sister? A bolt of lightning flashes through the sky, a muffled boom amidst the shower of hail.
"—including you."
His final words make my blood run cold. I can't move. Not forward, at least. Something reeks, and it's not the stale, woodsy air. I step down onto the floor and release the sides of the window. Cautiously, I walk up to the wall. We're literally inches apart. If not for the wooden and plaster barrier, we'd probably be staring at each other eye to eye, and I'd finally be able to see his face.
"What do you mean about your sister?" I ask carefully. He pauses again, clearly hesitant about sharing this piece of information with me.
"Alice can see things, things that haven't happened yet. Normally, her visions come quite detailed, but when it comes to you or your family, she can't see everything. Nothing's clear." He sighs, frustrated, before continuing. "It's very disconcerting, especially for her." And apparently you as well. I run my hand through my hair.
"So she can see the future," I state.
"Yes."
I can't help but scoff. There's an obvious hole in his explanation. He's going to have to do better than that.
"If she can't see my future, then how was she able to see our supposed 'deaths?'"
"She can't see your immediate future. But she can still see the aftermath of your actions in the long run. She described it as skipping a scene in a movie—" I cut him off with a dark chuckle.
"How convenient. Well isn't this a story for the ages; my would-be murderers are trying to save me." I cross my arms. "Do you really think I'm that gullible? You're a mind reader, right?" He pauses again.
"I am, but that doesn't mean—"
"Stuff it. I already know that story you're about to spin; it's not going to work."
"You don't understand," he growls through clenched teeth. "You're different. I have trouble reading you. Yes, I admit that I have read some of your thoughts," I grunt agitatedly at this, "but not all. I don't know why...Sometimes I just can't keep up. Things cross your mind so quickly that it all blurs and meshes together until all that's left is an incomprehensible mess."
I arch my brow. "So, you're defective?"
A deep rumble of guffaw booms from the room to my right. Edward answers with an annoyed growl. Emmett just laughs harder.
"Emmett," Edward begins, warningly.
"I'm sorry man, but that was just too rich!" he laughs.
"I can't believe this," Edward mutters to himself. "For one second can you not treat a serious situation like a giant joke?" he angrily says to his brother.
"Yeah, like being serious has been real helpful to us lately," Emmett scoffs sarcastically. "We frickin' scare the poor kid into a panic and HE ends up punching out the school bully because of the stress he's in. Do you think this still would've happened if we hadn't jumped to conclusions and started going all terminator-shit on him—"
"That's not the point! That imbecile was planning on instigating the fight from the beginning. It didn't matter if he knew what we were planning or not, the outcome was still the same—"
"Says you and Alice! But we both know that she isn't infallible. Stuff slips through the cracks, and there was a BIG hole in her vision today. We don't know what went down in between—"
I let out an impatient grumble. You know what, screw it. I'm going with plan A. I walk away from the wall and back to the window. They're still arguing, both abandoning Edward's mind method in the heat of their exchanges, voices raising octaves with every passing second. The sill is damp with rain, as is the floor surrounding it, but I easily re-affirm my grasp on the window's sides and plant my left foot on the slippery sill.
"STOP!" For the second time today I nearly lose my footing.
"Jesus, you want to broadcast that to the whole city?" I snarl over my shoulder, heart pounding in my chest.
"WHAT PART OF, 'IF YOU'LL LEAVE, YOU'LL DIE', DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?" he shouts. His loss of control strikes a nerve.
"WHAT PART OF, 'I DON'T TRUST ANYTHING THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MOUTH', DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?"I fire back. I look out into the storm, grumbling angrily to myself. I start counting the seconds. If he doesn't have anything to say by the time I reach fifteen, I'm climbing out the damn window.
I'm about to reach fourteen when he speaks.
"Alright," he starts, restraint lacing his tone. "Alright. You can't trust my reassurances—fine. But what about reason? Logic? At one point you thought we were the Volturi. We're not, and yes, I know you can't trust my word for it, but consider this; do you think you will remain hidden from them for long if you pull through with this little plan of yours?"
"Is that your way of telling me that you'll rat me out?" I ask him. He laughs, but it's not an expression of amusement.
"I wouldn't need to. If you know about the Volturi, then you must know how much they value secrecy. They're always watching, looking for the smallest sign of abnormality in the human world, and with how things have been going on the past couple of years…" he trails off. My grip has tightened around the sill at his words.
He begins again, "Normally you'd be right. If you were to skip out now, it wouldn't be so much as a blip on the Volturi's radar. But times have changed. The leaders have become quite paranoid. My family doesn't even feed on human blood and some of the guard has already paid us a visit."
"Why?" I ask, turning my gaze back to the left wall. Instead, Emmett is the one to answer.
"The past two years have seen some serious vamp activity going down in Europe." I turn my head to the right wall. "Normally it's just because of a newborn army getting out of control, and the Volturi tracks down the maker and cleans up the mess."
"But not this time," I state.
"No," Edward finally says. "This is something else all together. In every recent instance of interjection led by the Volturi, the end result has been the same: failure."
"Meaning?"
"It's easy to track newborns. They make mistakes and are particularly sloppy when it comes to their meals. Also, the amount of human casualties in the affected cities directly point to an influx in their numbers. But the recent investigations have turned up nothing; by the time the guard arrives, the newborns are long gone. No scents to track, no damaged buildings or forests to indicate anything sinister was inhabiting them, not even ash. It's like they've vanished into thin air. Demetri, the Volturi's best tracker, hasn't even been able to get so much as a whiff of them," he finishes. I let go of the window, turn around, and lean against it, ignoring the rain hitting my back, not sure what to feel. Emmett takes the opportunity to continue where Edward left off.
"Aro is seriously freaked out, and he's getting desperate. That's why in June he started sending the guard out to locate all the covens, so everyone could be accounted for. He said it was for our protection, but that's a load of horse shit. The truth was he wanted to know which covens were particularly gifted, so he could either recruit the gifted members, or gain a lead on what the hell is going on." I'm silent, lost in thought. Spoken phrases from the past fade in and out of my consciousness, sounding ominous and eerily fitting.
There's no such thing as coincidence.
"You know something." A statement, not a question. I don't miss the suspicion in Edward's tone. I walk back to the middle of the room.
"Tony—"
"I don't know jack, alright?" I snap. "Just leave me alone." I push myself off of the sill and mindlessly walk back and forth across the room, as if the rhythmic sound of my shoes scrunching against the tiled floors can somehow chase away the plague of dread and worry that has descended upon me.
Nahuel was wrong. Or at least, he's going to be. It's only a matter of time before the Volturi finds out about the others, and when that happens…
My body shivers.
We have to get out of here. There's just no way around it. If not because of the Cullens, then because of the Volturi. If Edward is telling the truth, then it's too risky for us to be hiding amongst the humans any longer. And Miri? Does she know? Is this why I've been getting that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I read her letters? I close my eyes tight, trying to put a lid on the surge of fear I feel for her. I'll have to ask her about this. If she's unaware, then she has a right to know the risk. The risk, oh man. I rub my tired eyes. Things were so much simpler a year ago…
"Where should I put this?" I ask Mom. She's in the kitchen, taking out the plates from their boxes and placing them on the small island to be put away in the cupboards. Her eyes look first to me, then down to the box in my hands.
"Just place it in the living room. Are those the papers?"I nod. At that moment, Reni bursts into the room.
"Are you done yet?"she asks, jumping up and down impatiently. I place the box on top of the couch, smiling.
"Yup."
"Finally!" She grabs my hand and drags me down the hallway into her room. Her furniture's already organized in the positions she wants them to be in.
"Did you arrange them yourself?" I ask her. She nods vigorously, obviously proud at her accomplishment. She drags me over to the window.
She points to the sky-piercing buildings, beacons of light amidst the night time canopy. "Aren't they pretty?" she asks, enchanted.
"Helllloo? Edward, c'mon man, talk to me. What's wrong?"Emmet's brusque question startles me out of my daydream. The room to my left is dead silent.
"Damn it, Edward, SPEAK UP!"
"What's going on?" I ask Emmett.
"I don't know! We were talking and then he was about to say something when he froze up. I've been trying to get his attention for the last two minutes!" he answers back, annoyed.
I walk to the left wall. Emmett's right; he's as quiet as a mouse. Hell, he's even stopped breathing. I'm about to ask him why he's suddenly gone all comatose when he beats me to the punch. His voice is a barely audible whisper. Like the voice of a man on his death bed, asking the man in the black cloak if he is who he says he is.
"She's your mother?"
I groan. Crap. How the hell could I have been so careless?
"You saw that, then?" I ask lamely, already knowing the answer.
"Yes...It's not possible."
I lean my right shoulder against the wall, arms folded. "You're telling the wrong person."
"But you're a teenager," he reasons, but more with himself than with me. "It's impossible. You're only a couple of years younger than her. She couldn't have…" He pauses again. I can practically hear his mind whirring.
"That child, who was she?" he suddenly asks. A surge of protectiveness rears up in me.
"None of your damn business. Now stay out of my head," I answer, coldly.
I hear him walk away from the wall. He paces, mumbles under his breath. Words like "correct age" and "fertility" catch my attention.
"What are you?" he finally asks. I don't answer.
More minutes pass in solitude. Not even Emmett tries to talk to him again. It's calming, but somewhat eerie. I'd grown used to the constant banter between them. I think back to Mom and Reni, not bothering to hide my thoughts anymore. I'm shit at it anyway, what's the point?
"Yeah, it's pretty," I agree. We stare out the window for a couple of more minutes, Reni chatting excitedly beside me about how she pushed the large cabinet across from her bed all by herself. All the while, I can't take my eyes off of the stars. Miri said that no matter how far away from each other we were, we'd always be under the same sky.
Even so, that didn't change the fact that I couldn't tease her about her pictures. Or race her to the market place…Or tell her how much I miss her.
"When was she changed?" Edward's words hide a myriad of raw emotion in every syllable that only serves to confound me.
"What?" I ask.
"Your mother. When. Was. She. Changed?" For the first time, he actually sounds desperate.
Vulnerable.
I back away from the wall, not liking where this is heading. When I'm a good three feet away, I ask carefully, "What's it to you?"
"Kid, just answer the question," Emmett says from behind me. His carefree demeanor from before is gone, replaced with the seriousness he so jovially mocked earlier. This time I'm the one that's silent. Minutes pass before Edward opens his mouth again.
"Tony—"
"Not until you tell me why you want to know," I interject, making my mind up. I force myself to mentally recite the Spanish alphabet. Anxiety builds, setting me on edge.
"I just need to," he answers, softly.
"That's not good enough. What the hell is going—"
The door clicks open. A man's back is to me as he talks to someone else at the other side of the door. Random bits of chatter creep into the room. It must be passing period.
"I gotta go, Jeff. I've kept this one waiting long enough." He turns around. He's on the stocky side, young, with short, slicked-back, light brown hair and a cleft chin that must have given him grief when he was in high school. A manila folder is tucked underneath his armpit.
"Hello, Anthony, I'm Mr. Fallows. Why don't we sit down?" he suggests, shutting the door. He walks past me, beckoning with his hand to follow. From the right corner of the room he drags an undamaged plastic chair to the desk. I do the same. Soon we're sitting across from each other, the desk separating us. He opens the manila folder and spreads out some of the papers. After skimming the first few lines, I look away in disgust; they're the same documents Allen flaunted in front of me before lunch. He starts talking.
"My colleagues, Mr. Johansen and Ms. Louise, have already spoken with Brent, the Cullens, and some of the witnesses." My eyes narrow in response.
"And?'
"And with the exceptions of Emmett, Edward, and Cole, the majority seems to be convinced that you instigated the fight." My fists clench. I already know where he's headed, where his decision and probably the Principal's decision stand. That fucking prick is going to get off scott-free while I get suspended my first day. It shouldn't matter to me. I don't need to be here. I don't belong in their world. It shouldn't bother me.
It shouldn't.
My attention is drawn back to his words as he gestures to the papers on the table.
"I've read this. It's a collection of reports from your previous school. I'm sure you're familiar with the incidents described." His fingers are entwined on top of the desk, eyes carefully scrutinizing me. "It's your first day. I can understand the stress of being in a new school, new area. It can be quite a mind-spinner." He picks up the second paper, stiffening it with a flick of his wrist as he holds it to his face. "I'd imagine today felt like the incident with the lockers…" he trails off, arching his brow suggestively at me. I glare at him.
"That was different."
He blinks. "How so?"
"I planned it." He places the sheet of paper back on the desk.
"Did you?" he asks, with false interest. I tilt my head as I answer him, carefully controlling the tone of my voice.
"You read the file; I picked the locks, smuggled the manure onto school grounds, and for good measure made sure to really bury their pretty little purses and jackets inside the stinking mess."
He nods. "Indeed you did. A bit excessive, don't you think, for simply spreading rumors about you?"
I chuckle darkly. Of course he'd see it that way. "They weren't just rumors. They practically turned the entire school against me because I wouldn't date any of them."
"Now, I'm sure that's just an exaggeration—"
"It isn't," I interrupt bluntly. His nostrils flare. It seems he doesn't like to be interrupted.
"Well, regardless of what I believe, you certainly got your revenge," he says shortly.
I examine him with jaded eyes.
"So that's your reasoning? That because I planned certain incidents to occur in the past, I must have somehow orchestrated today's little performance in the lunch room? I didn't do anything, I wasn't planning on doing anything, and if Brent wasn't such a sadistic, self-entitled meathead then we wouldn't be in here right now. What else you got, Richard?" His face turns a dark puce color.
I'm already suspended. I don't need his confirmation to know. Might as well have some fun while I'm at it.
"That's Mr. Fallows to you, Anthony."
"Sorry," I say, innocently. "You just seemed more like a Dick, to me." The angry click of his teeth clamping down is like music to my ears. He picks up another piece of paper, albeit roughly, crumpling the sheet. I resist the urge to grin.
"You may be right about the locker incident, but Brent doesn't have a record of getting into fights with or without provocation," he says in a scathing tone. My palms tingle. I try to ignore the shards dancing near his head as I answer back.
"The first four fights were started by the other students, in case you forgot—"
"But not the fifth," he interjects, slapping the sheet back on the table. "You attacked Adrian Pierce during passing period, did you not? Afterwards, even you stated that he had never bothered you before."
I feel my face burn with guilt. I look away briefly. He's right. Adrian never bothered me, and I would have left him alone…if Matt hadn't cut his arm in woodshop.
"Are you going to keep asking about the past, or can we get the real interview over with?" I ask brusquely, changing the subject.
"By all means," he says, leaning back in his chair. I lean forward, resting my arms on my thighs.
"We were just minding our own business when that a—" I pause mid-sentence, "when Brent came up to our table and started picking on Cole."
"Go on."
"So Brent keeps on talking trash about Cole and I get up to leave. Then HE starts getting up all in my case, asking me where I'm going. I tell him to get out of my way, he doesn't. Instead, he starts talking about how the underclassmen are expected to treat the upperclassmen with some respect and then I tell him again to get out of my way and he still doesn't move. He mentions something to his friends about teaching me some manners, whatever the hell that means, and then starts pushing me. And you know what he does next? He starts talking shit about my sister."
"Language," he warns. I bite back the cheeky remark on the tip of my tongue and let out an annoyed sigh instead.
"I think you know what happens from there. I punch Brent, all hell breaks loose, the Cullens save the day. And here we all are," I finish, waving my right hand around the room. My fingers brush against one of the shards, sending a surge of electricity through my arm. I fight the urge to grab it and sling it at the jerk-off in front of me.
"I see." He takes a pen out of his front pocket and begins scribbling a note to himself on the manila folder. "I have what I need. Thank you." He gets up from his seat and gathers the papers.
"So that's it?" I ask mildly.
"For now, yes," he answers without looking at me.
"So, can I go?"
"Not yet, I'm afraid. We're still waiting for your sister. I'll have to speak with her about the incident." I feel my shoulders slack. He hurriedly tucks the folder back under his armpit as he walks around the desk. We say nothing else to each other as he exits the room.
"That was very foolish of you."
I look to the left wall incredulously. I can't believe what I'm hearing.
"What?"
"If you hadn't goaded him, he might have been more willing to believe your side of the story," Edward says.
I growl, eyes narrowing at the wall as I prop my feet up on top of the desk. "You heard everything. He already had his mind made up the minute he walked into the room."
"I'm not disputing that," he begins carefully. "But if you had spoken more civilly he would have been more willing to believe you. Instead, you proved his previous assumptions correct."
"Whatever," I scoff. "I'm not going to turn into a sniveling little priss to save my ass. I'd rather go down in flames. With my dignity still intact."
He growls in disapproval.
I look up at the clock: 2:30 P.M. We've been in these rooms for almost two hours. I lounge back in my chair, hands behind my head. I let my mind wander over everything that I've witnessed and seen so far: douche bag bullies, kids stuffed into lockers, a teacher with a vendetta, a traumatized freshmen class, and vampires, all on my first day. Miri's right; I MUST be a trouble magnet. I mean it. Who the hell runs into vampires set on killing them on their first day of school, on top of all the other class bullshit?
"Emmett," Edward says suddenly.
"Yeah?" he answer's dully.
"Think of something, anything."
"I am. Can't you—"
"No, I can't," Edward grits. The room to my right is dead quiet. I lift my feet off of the table and drop my arms. After a couple of moments, Emmett regains his ability to speak and I listen carefully to their increasingly frantic conversation.
"What do you mean you can't?"
"Just like I said, I can't! It's like you're not even in the room," he says, through clenched teeth. He rounds on me. "Tony, are you doing this?" My temper instantly flares at the accusation in his tone.
"No," I answer, annoyed.
"C'mon kid, we're serious—" Emmett begins.
"I'm not doing anything!" I bark angrily. I jump back up and walk to the window. I close my eyes tight, focusing on the icy wind outside and my breathing: in and out, in and out. The cold air enters my wind pipes, cooling my lungs but doing little to soothe my temper.
"Can you still hear the others?"
"I can hear Alice fine, but everyone on the fifth floor is completely silent to me."
"What is he talking about? Everyone's so loud!" a childlike voice remarks. My eyes pop open and I spin around. Reni is standing underneath the doorway, hand still on the knob. She's sopping wet, bronze curls frizzy from the rain. Meanwhile, her pink rain coat and yellow rain boots are dripping a steadily increasing puddle of water onto the already dirty tiled floor. She closes the door behind her.
"Who the hell was that?" Emmett asks after a moment.
"You can hear me?" Reni asks Emmett's wall, astounded.
"Uhh, yeah."
"Huh." She makes to walk over to the wall, but I signal her to stop. She immediately stays put, watching me with bemusement. I walk over to her, grabbing her damp, mitten-covered hand, and drag her to the center of the room, her boots squeaking noisily. I put my finger to my lips before she can ask what's going on. Understanding dawns in her chocolate brown eyes and she nods. She takes off one of her mittens. With her hand exposed I grasp it and feel the threads of our minds connect.
What's going on? How could that boy hear me? What did the other one mean when he said he couldn't hear anyone? I thought you promised Momma you wouldn't be bad anymore? she asks.
The men in the rooms to our right and left are vampires. Her eyes widen. The one on our left can read minds. They got involved in the fight I got into today. Fear now taints her thoughts. She curls closer to me, attaching herself firmly to my leg. I cradle the back of her head in my other hand as I look up at the clock: 2:45 P.M.
They won't hurt you, I reassure her, as I watch the minute hand tick loser to 2:46 P.M. They'd have to get through me first. Just do exactly as I say, okay? I feel her nod against me. Once the bell rings, we're going to find Mom. Do you know where she went?
Yes, she answers. She said to keep you company while she talked to your teacher. I shuffle back near the door, Reni still attached to my leg. I can already hear her. She's around the corner in another room, talking to Fallows. I wait for a pause in their conversation. When I have it, I take my chance.
"Mom, can you hear me?"
About a minute passes before she responds with an almost inaudible "Yes."
"There are vampires here—" I begin.
"I know," she hisses. More talking going on. When will this guy shut up? Another pause.
"What do we do?" I ask her.
"Just stay in the room until I tell you it's okay to come out."
"But—"
"No arguments!" she hisses.
I hit my head against the surface of the door with a hollow thud. What'd she say? Reni asks.
To stay here until she says so. I answer her, bleakly.
That's good right? We're safer in here. Are there only two vampires? Why are they here? Are they with the bad people?
There are seven of them. Five are going to this school. I'm guessing the other two are posing as their parents. And I don't know why they're here.
What do they look like?
I think back to the lunchroom.
Oh. Okay. But what about the last one? She thinks up Edward. Well, his back, anyway. What does he look like?
I don't really know. I never got a good look at his face.
She absorbs all of this surprisingly well. I turn around and lean my back against the door, Reni's hand still clasped in mine. After a while, she starts to get impatient, wanting me to let go so she can explore the room. I relent. Beyond the door, the dismissal bell rings shrilly. I let out a dejected sigh. Mom and Fallows are still talking.
"They'll all be suspended the rest of the week. He's actually quite lucky. Any other school wouldn't be this lenient," Fallows says.
"I find that hard to believe. By the sound of it, those student's friends are covering up for him. Why haven't you taken the… Cullens or this Cole boy's words into account?"
"You have to understand, the majority of the witness claim—"
"The majority of the witnesses are this Brent boy's friends," Mom interjects angrily. "I had a chat with Cole Maxwell before I stepped into this office. It seems you make it a habit of selecting who to believe before you interrogate your perpetrators."
"Be careful, Ms. Swan. You may be Anthony's guardian, but you're also a future student of this school," he says pompously.
"I just want my brother fairly judged. Is that too much to ask?"
"I understand that, but the school policy is the school policy. It doesn't really matter who started the fight; the fact is, they fought, and must be punished accordingly."Another moment passes before Mom lets out a sigh of exasperation.
"Edward, Emmett?" Alice Cullen asks. From the sound of her voice, she's at the mouth of the staircase.
"Alice," they both say in unison.
I hear her slight footsteps approach our doors. "Carlisle and Esme have just finished with Mr. Johansen and Ms. Louise. Rosalie and Jasper are waiting for Bella." Goose bumps erupt on the surface of my flesh. I didn't tell anyone her name.
"Can you see her?" Edward asks.
"No. I can't see any of them," Alice answers, somewhat irritably. "I'm going to wait with Jazz and Rosalie," she adds, walking away.
"We'll come with you," Edward says. With a click, the doors to the rooms flanking mine open and Emmett and Edward exit. Their fading footsteps sound ominous in the empty hallway.
He did say she was psychic. My mind reminds me. Still, though. Mom's name didn't sound right coming from her. She said it…like they were friends. I rest my forehead on the surface of the door, straining my ears. I can hear them all, congregating around the corner, joined by two others.
"Are you sure it's her?" a new, male voice asks. He must be Carlisle.
"I'm positive," Edward answers.
"Good. We need to get to the bottom of this," the blond bitch—Rosalie says.
"All this time…" a new feminine voice, Esme, trails off, wistfully.
"I know," Edward says quietly. A door clicks open.
"We expect him to be back in school next week," Fallows says.
"Of course." I hear him and Mom walking into the vampire-filled hallway. The Cullens have gone silent.
"Ah! Dr. Cullen! How nice to see you again," he greets.
"Mr. Fallows."
They chat for about five minutes, the suck-up oblivious to the growing tension clearly radiating from the Doc's silent children and their equally silent fellow vampire. Finally, he says his goodbyes, walking back down our hallway. His brisk footsteps echo against the locker-adorned wall before descending the stairwell. My heart won't stop pounding. I'm aware of the other changes in my body—the adrenaline being pumped through my veins, increased senses, the excess venom in my mouth. Only one reason for this: something's about to happen.
And with that in mind, I turn the knob and open the door.
"Reni," I call. Immediately the small space is filled with the squelching of her boots as she runs over to me. I grab her ungloved hand and step into the hallway.
I thought Momma said we were supposed to stay in the room until she called us? Reni asks worriedly.
Change of plan. Something's about to happen and I don't want to be in there when it goes down. We start walking. The broken window across from us hasn't been properly fixed. A thin sheet of plastic and strips of duct tape, now blown askew thanks to the wind, lies at its foot. I follow the sound of their voices.
"Bella—"
"I have to go." Her words are flighty, weak.
"We need to talk about this—" We turn the corner and stop. Mom's a few feet away, her back to us. The Cullens are crowded around her in a crescent-shaped circle. I can already make out Emmett and Alice and the two others—Carlisle and Esme. Before Mom can turn around, we're already at her side. I get a glimpse of her face—eyes wide with trepidation—before settling on the person in front of her.
Seventeen. Maybe eighteen. Standard uniform. Chalk white skin, lean but muscular build, golden eyes. Typical vegetarian vampire. And yet, he isn't. He's not typical. I look down at Reni, then back at him.
Same bronze hair.
Same jaw.
Lips.
Cheeks.
Nose.
A violent lurch hits my gut, reaching all the way down to my toes, and I forget why I'm here. My gaze is frozen on the man before me, no longer faceless.
Him.
My ears are deaf to the conversations going on around us. Everything that happened today comes rushing back to me all at once in a blur of mismatched memories and random bits of dialogue. Yet somehow I'm able to link it all together: his reaction to my memory of Mom and Reni, the pieces of conversation from the cafeteria, and most of all, Mom's request for us to stay in the room.
Him.
The tiny grip on my hand tightens painfully.
I'm scared. Reni keeps saying, her fear increasing with my silence. Tony?
I usher her behind me and let go of her hand, ignoring her silent protests. His eyes flit down to Reni, with something akin to shock and concern.
Concern. He feels concern for her.
I almost flinch from the sudden burst of hatred licking at my insides, screaming to be released in one ferocious roar. The rush of feeling, of emotion, knocks me out of my shock, allowing full realization of who he is sprout in the bowels of my mind. Black thoughts spew from the malevolent seed, tangles of roots that grow and fill my head, blossoming poisonous fruit that feeds my inner savage, the thing I hid from Flan. It assumes the role of narrator.
What the hell does he have to be concerned about? He left us to die. Where has he been the last five years? it snarls.
My blood instantly comes to a boil, burning away any possible sympathy I could have for him.
Living it up with his coven, trailing for his newest project to seduce and screw, probably. And where have we been? Running, hiding, trying to find the answer to what we are…
I clench my fists. I feel the muscles of my face tighten and mold into a mask of rage.
Answers to what you can do…
The shards re-appear, this time in the thousands, hovering in the space between him and his family.
…what Reni can see…
I feel the hot, slick, shard of crystallized energy materialize in my left palm. I grasp it like a lifeline.
And what about Mom?
I peek at her from the corner of my eye—She's arguing with the blond bitch, something about… an immortal child?
He hurt her.
Their voices bleed into white noise.
Broke her into a million fucking pieces.
My eyes find him again. He hasn't moved an inch, his indefatigable eyes still trained stonily on Reni behind me.
… abandoned her, abandoned us…
My throats on fire, while my teeth ache to bite into something hard.
…when he wasn't satisfied with his game anymore.
I grind them together, painfully. My eyes shut tight then re-open.
Never looked back—
Nothing but red.
—after using her like a COMMON WHORE.
As though sensing my gaze, his eyes flicker back up to mine.
I snap.
With an enraged roar, I charge at him at full speed, while another part of my brain assembles the hovering shards together seamlessly, like a giant jigsaw puzzle, forming a green, luminescent wall that pushes his family back, sealing them in the hall. Screams and shouts as my body collides with his and I knock him to the floor with a crash, the sound of tile cracking against marble. With one knee on his chest, I pin him down while the other traps his right arm. My right hand pins his left while my left hand puts the glassy, makeshift knife to his jugular.
The distressed hisses and shouts in front of me mean nothing. I block it out with ease. And him? He just stares back at me, stoically calm as ever and I hate it. I want him to struggle, protest, ANYTHING other than just lie there! Feral snarls rip and tear their way out of my throat. It takes several seconds before I can spit out a coherent sentence but I do it.
"All this time," I grit, our noses inches from each other. Impassive gold eyes meet my enraged green. Countless memories flash before my eyes, a collage of my life. Our lives. Without him.
"All this fucking time, I've been talking to you." I enunciate the last word accusatorially, with as much loathing as I can muster.
"And you knew. Didn't you?" I breathe, as I remember his questions before the interview with Fallows. My left hand shakes so hard with adrenalin and hatred it hurts. I press the shard deeper into his neck to steady my wrist. A trickle of venom dribbles down the side.
"I did," he croaks quietly, his adam's apple bobbing against the blade. I let out another snarl, teeth bared. I feel his left wrist break in my grasp.
"Tony," Mom pleads. My head snaps up. She's kneeling in front of me, from the other side of the barrier. I must have accidentally pushed her further into the hall when I charged at him.
"Let him go." I blink bemusedly at her, not sure of what I'm hearing.
"W-what?"
"Let him go," she says again, her tone urgent. Her request infuriates me even more.
"No way," I say, shaking my head as I look at her. "No fucking way."
She puts both her palms flat on the glass-like screen she cannot see. Horror dominates her face.
"Do you remember the promise you made to me when we first arrived?" Her question catches me off guard. I loosen my grip on the shard ever so slightly.
"That… I'd keep my slate clean this time," I say, after briefly wracking my brain. She nods, but her reminder only serves to add to the melting pot of emotion overflowing inside of me. That promise was broken the minute I punched Brent.
"I've already tainted it," I tell her. "It's too late."
"No it isn't!" she says desperately. "But it will be in the next twenty seconds if you don't release him and put your shield down! Use your ears!" My eyes narrow in confusion. I do as she tells me and immediately hear what she's talking about; several Narcs are coming over to investigate the ruckus.
"This isn't the time for this," she whispers. The footsteps are getting closer. I look down at him. He's still staring at me, that infuriating calm still gracing his perfect face. Inside I'm torn, my desire to rip him to shreds conflicting violently with the need to keep the secret and protect my family.
"TONY!"
I let out one last growl before getting up and disassembling the wall. The minute Mom's hands push through air, she gets up and zips over to our side, pushing me back as she stands defensively in front of us. A tentative tug on my right hand reminds me of Reni's presence and I feel a twinge of guilt.
The father is helping him up, trying to examine the cut I made on his throat and then his broken wrist, but he brushes him away, shaking his head. Meanwhile, the rest of the family crowds around him. It takes every bit of limited restraint I have to not zip back over and finish the job. I'm well aware of the scarred one eying me warily, searching for anymore indication of volatility. I throw him a dark smile from behind Mom. He stiffens and lets out a short hiss, recognizing my challenge.
Give me a reason. That's all I ask.
"Everything alright?" the first Narc asks carefully when he arrives. He's wearing a white baseball cap. His scent drifts to our side, and I'm surprised by the intensity of the burn in my throat. The subtle thump of the artery on his liver-spotted neck catches my eye.
"Everything's fine," Carlisle responds, leaving Edward to walk up to him. "We were just having a rather… animated discussion."
"Animated, huh? Looked a lot more than animated from over there."
"I can assure you that there is no problem."
"I need you to take your sister and go," Mom whispers. I snap out of my trance and look incredulously at the back of her head. She turns to face us. Instantly our eyes lock, gold boring into green.
"I'll explain everything later. Your stuff's in the band room." She places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, the other under Reni's chin.
"Go," she says, looking down to Reni, then back up to me. "Now."
I look behind her. As Carlisle continues to offer his reassurance, the others have shifted in front of the large crack in the floor, blocking it from view from the human. They stare at me unabashedly, with a mixture of paranoia and awe. Except for him. He's staring at Mom.
I feel another snarl building in my chest, but I clamp down on it. With clenched teeth and disappear around the corner with Reni and head for the stairwell. Throughout I try to keep a lid on the intense emotions flooding my mind, while at the same time try to sift through Reni's thoughts.
Half-formed questions keep bubbling up in her head while scenes from the last fifteen minutes keep replaying over and over. I let go of her hand, disconnecting the connection between our minds. We keep walking in silence, soon reaching the stairwell. I start to descend.
"Why did you hurt him?"
My foot freezes on the fifth step. I turn my head. Reni's still on the first step, confusion, curiosity, and fear playing on her face. The answer to that question is so simple, and yet, so infuriatingly complicated. I neither have the time, nor patience to carefully list the reasons why I did what I did.
I walk back up to her. Her face, expectant, falls when I instead grab her gloved hand and drag her with me down the stairs. Resigned, she doesn't say anything more.
But as we enter the second stairwell, I let the contempt and loathing that has accumulated over the past three years escape my mouth, in the form of four icy words:
"Because he deserved it."
Okay. So they've finally come face to face (pun intended). Some of you might be confused as to what's going on with Bella's ability. Now don't get me wrong, she's still a mental shield, the thing though is that she doesn't know how to control it.
If you consider things logically then it should make sense. In the original series Bella had Edward, Carlisle, Eleazar and the rest of the Cullen's to help her figure out the workings of her shield. Obviously here, in my universe, that wasn't the case. And how would she even know if she had an ability after she was changed? There's no tangible way for her to actually "see" her shield, and unless she's testing it against another vampire with a mental gift, she would never even know her shield existed (Needless to say, she hasn't met any other vampires with gifts similar to Edward's(with the exception of Reni)). So, as a result, her self-knowledge about her ability is borderline non-existant, as is her control over it.
Anymore questions? Leave me a review and I'll answer as much as I can. :)