About three things I was absolutely positive:

First, I was a vampire.

Second, there was a part of me - and I absolutely knew how unbelievably potent that part was - that thirsted for the delectable lifeblood of humanity.

And third - quite possibly the worst of all - I was absolutely and completely clueless on how I could possibly resolve my six-decade debt with the IRS.

The notion of a Vampire Accountants Anonymous had been raised after a particularly awkward message had been communicated to Carlisle during his second surgery of the morning.

I'd seen it, of course - not with enough of a warning to call him, but just enough to embarrass me - in perfect cinematic detail.

The nurse craned her head around the theatre door, hesitating at the threshold. If she stepped inside, she'd be breaking the sterile field, but the caller was just so insistent -

Carlisle turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Caroline?"

She blushed under his attention, her eyes flickering down to break his gaze.

"Doctor Cullen, you've got an important message -"

He waved his hand, gesturing pointedly with the scalpel. A tiny drop of blood glistened on the perfect point of the blade.

"Calls aren't presently a concern of mine, Caroline. I'll speak with the caller after I've completed the sutures."

She paused, debating how to properly convey the seriousness to the doctor without embarrassing him.

"Was there anything further?" he queried, his voice perfectly pleasant.

She stared into his golden eyes, already regretful for the way she was about to ruin his morning.

"Doctor, it's the IRS. They've placed a lien on your home."

Carlisle had phoned me shortly after, sounding more concerned than I could ever recall hearing him.

He had worried for Bella while she'd changed, but there was little weight behind his stress. He held confidence in my visions, even when reality was at odds with what I had preternaturally perceived.

I had, unfortunately, never had a vision about how to complete the family taxes.

This would prove to be problematic.

Carlisle, predictably, called a family meeting after he had finished his ever-growing list of surgeries at the hospital.

I did not need second sight to see that coming.

With the entire family gathered around the massive dining room table, displaying a mixture of puzzled and resigned expressions, it was easy to imagine it as a gathering of shareholders in a boardroom.

Shareholders would surely know a thing or two about taxes, though.

Edward glared at me, softening his expression to a muted frown once Bella had noticed.

Edward, this is not my fault. How was I supposed to know that Jenks didn't handle accounting matters?

He scowled but said nothing. It was partially his fault, anyway - surely he could have scanned Jenks' mind in passing, confirming the appropriate tax rates and deductions and whatever other tax things applied (of that matter, I had zero clue).

"Really, Alice?" Edward muttered, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

Emmett huffed. "I hate it when you guys do that."

Rosalie scoffed, running her long fingers through her smooth corn silk hair. "Face it, Emmett, they aren't going to stop. Don't buy into their little games."

Jasper reclined in his seat, a placid expression settled across the smooth planes of his bone-white skin. His serenity was sure to be short-lived, but Jasper already knew that. Our existence made the ephemerality of life impossible to ignore.

Carlisle stood from his chair at the head of the table, resting his palm atop Esme's shoulder.

"It appears we are in a rather unique situation," Carlisle had began, looking at each of us in turn. "I do not ask you for much -"

"Animal blood," commented Emmett, his eyes sliding towards Jasper.

"High school," Rosalie bit out, one perfect eyebrow cocked.

Carlisle sighed. "You're right. I am sure I'll be hearing about this for the next hundred years, too."

He paused, mouth set into a thin line.

Say it, Edward, I goaded, kicking his shin under the table. You know how Carlisle gets about breaking the law.

Edward grimaced before clearing his throat. "We owe the IRS a substantial amount. Everyone's getting a job."

Had we planned the conversation more thoroughly, I may have had prior warning of Rosalie wrenching Edward's head clean off his body, but the sight wasn't exactly troubling.

She would do worse to me if she ever found out.

I would enjoy my sliver of peace until then.