You're Home
Christmas Eve, 2004
Edward was sitting on a rock in the middle of the river. Around him, the river flowed east, downstream, to some far-off destiny. Alice saw that it would freeze over soon, that it would get very cold in the coming days. Perfect for ice-skating races. If you're fast, it doesn't matter if the ice is thin.
Esme appeared by the bank. Even the most extreme temperatures did not affect them, but she was wearing her checkered wool coat and winter gloves. So human, even if no one was watching. She fit into the world in a way not even Carlisle could. It made Edward smile.
"Don't make me drag you inside," she scorned lightly.
"I lost track of time," he said.
"And you conveniently disappeared when Alice mentioned that Emmett and Rosalie would be back by one o'clock. I'm relieved you're not halfway to Toronto by now."
"I'm not avoiding anyone." He stood to prove it and jumped to her side. He had done his best to make amends with the family. There were plenty of things to apologize for - last year's confrontation with the Quileute council, his return to Leah's side, and now his deal with the fairies.
Alice, Carlisle, and Esme were understanding, especially once they were assured their chances of partaking in a war were slim. They would help the fairies, given they all could avoid the wrath of the Volturi. Though it was likely the kings of the vampire world had more pressing concerns than any alliances in Washington, United States.
Jasper, was on his side, too. He reasoned that it was the best deal Edward could have made when cornered in a foreign land. One must not underestimate an enemy, the southern vampire had said. Everyone was - not quite an enemy, but an opponent, to Jasper until they proved otherwise.
The backing of his family fortified him, pushing away his worst fears. He felt he could continue on, could readily meet whatever challenge Ella wanted to throw at him.
It did not leave him without guilt, unfortunately. That they would readily accept his choices, no matter how much trouble he saddled to them.
And Rosalie would make him suffer for it.
"I'm giving everyone space," Edward explained. "I've acted rather impulsively in these last few days and my choices have brought nothing but chaos and danger."
'Please don't beat yourself up again,' Esme thought. She linked their arms together as they walked into the house. "We're all glad to be together again. That's what matters most."
The living room had been transformed. Or, really, was in the process of transformation. Alice and Jasper had arrived last night, a day after Carlisle and Esme. Jasper had to finish an internship as part of his semester at university. Alice wanted to shop in New York for holiday decorations (for the ones adorning their Ithaca home were already "used" and no store in Washington would be "up-to-date"). After rushing through unpacking their bags, Alice was making decorating an all-day affair.
All of the white chairs and couches were pushed to the sides of the room to make way for a ten-foot Christmas tree patterned with silver and blue ornaments. Matching streamers and lights lined the walls and a soft white rug in the center of the room created the illusion of a sheet of snow.
Jasper stood in a corner, holding a book in his left hand and balancing Alice in his raised right hand. She balanced on one foot like an acrobat as she pressed some sort of snowflake decals to the back windows. "Is this too elementary?" she asked Esme.
"I think it's homey," Esme complimented.
"Great," Alice sighed, tearing the stickers down.
"Does it matter?" Edward asked. "No one but us are going to see."
"Hey, I hauled over the rest of your stuff from New York. Humor me at least through the holidays, okay?"
Edward held up his hands in defeat and was about to apologize when Esme saved him.
"Hey, I could use a sous-chef in here!" she called from the kitchen.
Edward took his out.
"It looks beautiful, sugar," he heard Jasper tell Alice. Smart man.
Across the kitchen countertop were pans, muffin tins, sugar, butter, flour, and other baking supplies.
He felt a bit of relief. Oddly, baking appealed to him more than cooking. The sweet scent of pastries was easier to digest than the complex aromas of poultry, cheeses, and what have you.
Esme was all business when she needed to be. "Alright, I'm dropping off these finished batches with Carlisle tonight for the staff. I was thinking we should make a few more for the patients. Have to keep them all nut-free, though."
"Is it official? Will they have him back?"
"Dr. Clarkson retires next year. They're overstaffed as it is, so the next budget meeting will determine if they'll rehire him." Esme stopped mixing up her bowl of cookie dough for a second. "Heaven knows we don't need the money."
"Carlisle will feel restless anywhere else," Edward countered.
"He'd have more control over his situation if he established a private practice," she mused. "In a quieter atmosphere, he couldn't get away with working so many hours, and there'd be less to do, but maybe he could fly under the radar better than he does at the hospital."
This conversation came up every so often, but a fruitless one. Each of them had their methods to keep busy. They were unseen gods in that way - living for their own pleasure with no worries of illness or death. Edward played. Esme designed. Jasper read and Alice shopped. Yet Carlisle was a special case: he wanted to prove to himself he was immortal for a reason. That he was using every bit of his god-given time to better the world. Esme would never seriously try to coerce Carlisle into giving up his passion.
Edward grabbed a star-shaped cookie cutter, taking his time to stretch out the sugar cookie dough. He hadn't done this in ten or so years, but the recipe Esme had taught him unfolded in the back of his mind. In the end, the cookies always came out exactly as he had expected, exactly like in the picture. Golden-brown, soft in the center, crisp edges. Everything uniform, expected, and perfect.
One of these days, he'd be summoned to kill a threat to the Cosaint clan. To protect, Ella had softened it. Just one person, for now. Possibly more.
He had killed people before, in the name of righteousness, with a sense of justice, because they were despicable human beings - murderers, rapists, abusers, drug lords. They were monsters - to kill them was a favor to the public. In the past, all of this helped Edward to excuse that he had given up and given into his true vampiric nature.
If he had to return to that life, he could do it, even if it sickened him. If it was a vampire, it would be easier to forgive himself. Most of his kind developed some sort of supremacy after the change, once they became stronger, smarter, faster, and more beautiful. They found no guilt in feeding from humans. A few even found a perverse thrill in it. All of them, even his own family, were monsters at the core.
But at what point did a monster become a man?
The timer beeped. Esme had flitted off seconds ago to help Alice hang string lights outside. Edward pulled out the four pans of finished cookies, balancing them all on his arms like an experienced waiter. He mentally jumped when he heard Alice scream at the top of her lungs. It was nearly impossible to decipher: his favorite sister squealed no matter her emotions or the reason.
He didn't have the time to think, anyway, because Alice was dragging Leah into the kitchen.
"Look who's here!" she chirped.
He could hardly actually look - Alice had a stunned Leah locked in a vice-like grip, the vampire girl's tiny frame somehow encasing her taller friend.
"I would have gone willingly," Leah protested, her speech blocked by Alice's arm over her mouth.
"We missed you so much!" Alice babbled. "You look wonderful. You grew two inches!"
Emmett barreled in then, and slung an arm around both girls. "Hey, Eddie! Look who's here! Hey, those look delicious."
"You can't eat them, Emmett," Rosalie said, as she pushed past the trio in the doorway.
"I know that! I'm only saying if I could, I would!" He laughed, completely unconvincing. "But I won't, I swear."
Emmett pulled Edward into a hug, clapping him on the back. 'Don't worry, man. Everything will work out. If we gotta fight, we fight. It won't be the end of the world.'
Emmett always spoke simply and honestly, sort of like Esme. Edward smiled gratefully at his big brother. He locked eyes with Rosalie, his distant sister, who stood solemnly, her arms folded.
"Thanks for getting the house back," she said stiffly. "I disagree with how you're going about it - but I know you're trying to do what's right."
"It really is the most magical time of the year," Alice giggled.
Rose groaned at the cheesiness, but Emmett ruffled Alice's hair. Edward turned to Leah, who looked at them all with amusement.
"Leah, this is Rosalie. Rosalie, Leah," Edward announced. It was perhaps a bit odd now, when both parties had heard so much of the other, but he'd rather err on the side of formality than rudeness.
Each of them nodded respectfully.
"Nice to meet you," Leah greeted. 'She's kind of scary. But at least she's not screaming and kicking me out.'
"Likewise," Rose replied coolly. 'I suppose she can't go telling our secrets without telling her own. Poor girl is in over her head. Wonder what she sees in Edward, though…'
"You haven't met Esme!" Edward blurted, too loud to his own ears. "Let's go meet Esme!"
Edward steered Leah out of the kitchen, passing the piano, where they had once played together. He guided her to the couch farthest from the winter wonderland in the center of the room, a cream-colored loveseat facing the glass wall.
"You walk too fast," Leah objected.
"Sorry. I had less than five seconds before the three of them gave voice to whatever inappropriate comments were floating around their heads." Edward watched as she fiddled with the sleeve of her flowy burnt-orange tunic, which she paired with knee-high boots and dark-wash jeans. She was wearing lipstick, too. This was the most dressed up he'd seen her in a while.
"Your mother met me at the door, by the way. She was all smiles. I can't believe she raised you."
"Raised me? I was full grown when she -"
Leah pulled a box out from the side of the couch and dumped it on his lap. "Here."
He held it suspiciously. It was plain brown, twice as deep as a wide shoebox. "How long has this been here?"
"I've been holding it this whole time. You're so bad at paying attention."
He lifted the lid. On top of the contents was a mahogany picture frame wrapped in some plastic wrap to protect it.
"Damn I should have put that on the bottom." Leah snatched it away.
Edward lifted next a smaller box. "It's a…thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle?"
"Look, you attach it to this fabric," she said, holding up a black square. "And it all stays together like a painting. It doesn't come with a picture either so you can't spoil it for yourself. Might take you a day instead of two seconds."
He doubted it would be that long, but the gift had put a stupid goofy grin on his face.
"I know it's cheesy," she said. Her brown eyes darted around the room self-consciously.
"No, it's perfect, all of it. I can't believe you made this," he said, delicately holding the picture frame. It really was fine, for it was as sturdy and smooth as any in his home.
She smirked, half-annoyed, half-pleased that he'd picked that thought out of her head. "Yeah, my dad does a little woodworking. He taught me and Seth. We're not so good."
"It's beautiful," he insisted.
She started to smile, but coughed instead. "I would've gotten you one of those slutty YA Warriors novels but you have them all."
"They are not -" Edward ran a hand through his hair. He was too happy to argue over the latest addition to his library. "I concede."
"Finally, you admit it!"
Edward reached into the pocket of his aviator jacket and revealed a palm-sized velvet jewelry box.
Leah flinched, intimidated by the clear opulence. "You shouldn't have," she faltered.
He pressed it into her hands.
She opened the box. Inside was an ivory miniature grand piano, no larger than her hand. She held it delicately, staring in awe at the intricate detailing, from the pink marigolds swirling across the lid to the eighty-eight white and black keys.
"Please tell me you didn't spend your wish on this," she said. Her tone was displeased, but she couldn't erase the glee in her eyes.
"Tap a key," he prompted.
Leah did so. A song filled their corner of the room, a piano solo. He watched as her mind scrambled, then latched onto a memory.
The two of them, over a year ago. Alone at his piano.
'Moon Dance,' she thought. The song they'd played.
She cradled the music box closer to her chest. "I don't know how to repay -"
"Gifts aren't debts."
"Thank you." Her thick eyelashes framed shining brown eyes, close to tears, but unwilling to go there.
Somewhere in the house, he heard Esme berating Emmett. "Give them privacy!" his mother scolded. No doubt Em was anxious to burst into the living room with his buffoonery.
"Let me show you something," Edward said, holding the piano. "I recorded that song already, but it came with three others, all lullabies if you press this key. You can record and save up to ten of your own, too."
"Oh, you'll have to play those for me, too. My skill level isn't exactly listener-worthy."
"Then you'll really have to repay me," he smirked. "That's free labor."
Emmett crashed through the door, Esme, Rose, and Alice hot on his heels. "Stop hogging the living room! I wanna watch Rudolph, it's Christmas Eve, c'mon!"
Esme gave an apologetic grimace as Emmett fell into an armchair by the television, and Rose curled up in his lap. Jasper silently treaded downstairs, too, acknowledging Leah with a nod, before greeting the couple. Edward recalled Leah once describing the southern vampire as a cat, and from what he'd seen in her mind, he'd have to agree with her.
Alice sat on the back of Leah and Edward's couch. "I knew you'd love it," she remarked.
"Who are you talking to?" Leah asked.
"Both of you!"
The two of them chattered away, picking up where they'd left off. Across the room, Edward locked eyes with Emmett.
'Sorry to throw salt in your game, Eddie. But Alice predicted a seventy percent chance you'd say something incredibly corny.' The burly vampire shrugged. 'You're welcome!'
Edward shook his head, turning his attention to the stop motion movie he'd been forced to watch every winter for forty-one years and counting.
Leah was close to falling asleep when someone shook her shoulder. It was Emmett, his large hand close to dislocating her arm.
"C'mon, you're missing the best part!" he shouted.
"I'm awake, I'm awake!" she yawned.
Making Emmett a vampire was one of the worst gambles Carlisle Cullen had taken. If the guy weren't so sweet and friendly, he'd do some serious damage. He could do enough by accident, as is. Instead, he was trapped as a bottomless barrel of enthusiasm, with no fatigue to ever soften him. He was a lot to take.
Leah glanced at the other Cullens around her. It was fascinating to see that nothing had changed around her while she'd been watching the movie. Rosalie and Emmett to her left, whispering to each other. Jasper leaning against the wall, by the dining room. Alice and Edward playing chess on the floor. Esme on the couch next to her, writing in a notebook.
"Do you need anything?" The phrase had an implied 'honey' or 'dear' attached to it, so heavily she expected it to be from Esme or even Edward.
Instead, she turned to see the doctor himself. He wore slacks and an oatmeal-colored cardigan, but no shoes, to her amusement. He also had a face on the edge of smiling, even when he was frowning in concern. He impressed her, even more than Rosalie in all her grandeur.
"No thank you, sir," she said. Esme wanted to be called by her first name, and he probably did too. It was hard with adults she didn't know. Then again, Edward and Alice were 'adults' in some twisted definition of the word.
Across the room, Edward gave her a look, his lips pursed.
She shrugged. 'I stand by that statement.'
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. No doubt it was her mother texting her to get home now. The clock above the entertainment center told her she'd stayed over an hour, too long to pass as running out for last minute wrapping paper, as she'd claimed.
"I've got to get going." She stood, and so did the Cullen family, all in unison. How nice. Just a bit creepy, but nice.
"It was a pleasure to meet you," chimed Esme, grabbing her hand. Her skin was cold and hard, but it did not detract from the kindness and sincerity of the gesture.
"Yes, thank you, Leah," Carlisle agreed.
What could he possibly be thanking her for? But she nodded awkwardly, before giving Alice another fierce embrace and waving goodbye to the others.
Edward walked her out the door, where they stood on the porch, pretending they had some semblance of privacy. She slowed her steps, dragging her feet. Stretching the seconds into minutes if she could.
He smirked at her.
"It'll snow soon," she commented.
"It will."
"Don't forget to call me when you've finished the puzzle."
"You can help me with it."
"Really?" She turned, heading for the parchment-colored hammock swing on the corner of the porch. She stretched out, pulling the blanket over herself. "Don't feel obligated."
"I don't." He sat next to her, so gracefully the swing barely moved. "It will get dark soon. Would you like me to drive you to the border?"
"No. I just need to relax a bit before I head to this Christmas party." A party where she'd be in a crowded house, with gossiping neighbors and new enemies. Where everyone would stare at her with a strange mixture of pity, at what happened to her, and revulsion, at the depressed little thing she'd become.
"Get over it," her father had begged the other day. She had said one little thing ("Sam can rot in hell, along with the skank", when the old man brought up Council business at dinner) and suddenly she was a bitter harpy, the scorned witch in Sam and Emily's fairy tale.
"Get over it," he'd told her.
Get over it.
If only it were that simple. Everything was a reminder of what had been taken from her - a sweatshirt he'd left in her room, a shopping list left in the pocket; his house, which she passed on her way to work. She wanted to change her route, but her heart stopped her every time. She ached to not worry for him. She prayed she would never call him, but wished he would call her.
Leah closed her eyes. "He didn't even call me himself. After everyone found out, I finally found out, and I know he knew I knew. Yesterday, I called his house, and she picked up. She had the nerve to cry, too." She rubbed her temple. "I hate crybabies. Guess that includes me now."
Edward brushed a hair from her forehead.
She turned to him. He froze, inhumanly still, only his gold eyes alive and searching her face.
"Tell me a story," she suggested. "A good one."
"Any story?"
"A true one. Happy ending, but no romance. I've sworn off love."
He rolled his eyes and laid down next to her in the hammock. "Scoot over. I've got something. The night we first met, we headed out to rescue you because Alice had a vision of you."
"Boo! Tell me something I don't know."
"I am. Listen."
We don't go looking for trouble. We do our best to keep out of conflict, but it has a way of haunting us. Maybe it's part of being undead.
But if someone's life is in danger and we can stop it, then we will try. We will stop it. No matter the risks.
It's sort of ingrained in us by now. If Alice, Jasper, or I sense something, if someone's about to be hurt, we'll be in the right place at the right time. The old woman about to walk into traffic. The little boy about to fall off of his bike.
That doesn't make us superheroes. Not even Carlisle. There is so much more we see and don't do. We're bound by the ancient laws and perhaps more so, our own fears.
Coming between a vampire and its prey is a tricky business. If it's on our land, we can ask them not to hunt in our area. Whether they agree or want a brawl is another matter. Some nomads don't want to face off a large coven, especially if they're alone or in a pair. Some are so driven by bloodlust that we have no choice.
We've only killed four altogether. It's nothing compared to the human lives we've stolen. I'm not proud of either. You were guessing that I haven't hurt anyone outside self-defense, or that vampire lives don't count to me - but I have and it does. Human or vampire, no matter the reason, it always does.
More often, though, it is enough to make our presence known. Intimidation and all that.
Rarely, we'll come in contact with the human, only if the vampire is too close for attacking. Then and there, we'll negotiate, even face-off. One witness is easy to confuse and distract. People are easily swayed, more than you would like to think.
Very rarely, we have to convince the prey to leave.
This was the case with Randall.
It was back in the 1960s, '63 to be exact.
We were based in Oregon, and in a local range, hunting in the Sierra Nevada. We couldn't live in California - the sunlight isn't suitable for us, though it appeals to Jasper and Emmett. Alice, too, a little. Some yearning for the past, I assume.
Alice and Jasper were with us for about ten years at that point, but he was having trouble resisting temptation. Any vampire would have trouble adjusting to vegetarianism, but his plight was compounded by the fact that he had been raised on the traditional diet for nearly a century.
Our first move, from Pennsylvania to Oregon had ended poorly for him. We had never gone very far to hunt with him, so the long trip led to...accidents. Too much at once. We were forced to become proactive. In Oregon, we'd venture out to far-off places, test him. One of our first attempts was a range in northern California. Once the sun retired it was safer for us, but during the hot summer months, there were more people outside late at night. This added to the challenge.
I and Jasper were tracking two bears. Carlisle had fed, but stayed near the border. I could hear him getting a little anxious because we were starting to get close to a campground. Another vampire was headed to only five miles off, we heard, but this did not alarm us. I could see they were older, more focused and calm than a newborn. I didn't think much about it. I should have.
We were skimming the edge of the camp when Jasper veered off course suddenly. (He got lost in the hunt, with all of our thirst combined. In those days it was a bit difficult to be around him for me, and torture for him to be around many of us at once.)
I didn't think twice about tailing him, deeper into the forest then we had planned. As we neared the mountains, the wind changed course, and we knew now blood had been spilled. The wrong kind.
By a creek, a boat had been capsized. A man, a boy really, nearly nineteen, had stayed out too late on a hike with his older sister and her daughter. He now crawled out of the water, every fiber of his being fighting against the venom coursing through his veins. One distinct bite on his right arm. The sister laid dead on the bank. The first one to go.
Across from him stood the monster, holding the girl in his arms. She was about two years old, too young to understand, but old enough to be terrified. She tried to wriggle out of his arms. I could see she had seconds before she met the fate of her mother and her uncle.
Jasper and I stood at the edge, obscured by the growing darkness. Even with his years of battle, and my years of rebellion, we had never encountered such a stomach-turning sight.
"Wanda," the boy said, shaking the woman's arms. "Wanda, get up."
The sick, sick creature before him showed no remorse for what he'd done. It was all calculated. He'd been trailing the young woman for days, trying to get her alone. Her blood called to him like yours called to mine. And now he was about to get even more than he bargained for. "Poor thing," he grinned. "But I was kind. She won't have to see her child die before her eyes."
"Please!" the brother screamed. "Don't touch her! Kill me! Kill me instead."
The monster tapped his chin. It was as if he got more satisfaction from their torment than their blood. "I'll save you for last. I might have reconsidered if you hadn't thrown yourself in my way earlier," he said, tapping his own shoulder. "For now, enjoy the pain you've brought on yourself."
Jasper grabbed my arm. I didn't need a vision to see that the blood spilling from the mother was driving him mad. He was going to need to feed, immediately.
"Jasper, you're better than this," I whispered. "You can't. No more mistakes."
"Who's that?" the vampire called. He had spotted us. It was no use hiding. At first, our size and number intimidated him, but he was confident, especially when seeing that Jasper was losing control, practically shaking with thirst. His emotions were worsening the nomad's as well.
"Welcome, friends," he said, with a grand show of cordiality. "You're just in time for dessert."
"It's kind of you to share," I said. "But we're not hunting for ourselves. Our leader is down the river. He'd like us to bring something back to him."
He scowled but was quick to hide it. In his head, he was cursing us, knowing he could not be defeated by three males. "Ah. Well, take the larger one."
"Suzie!" the man cried, already anticipating the end of their fate.
"His sister's blood was the best I'd ever had. I assume his will be nearly as delectable as the first," the vampire added. This was a lie. In fact, he suspected the daughter would have a more similar scent to Wanda than the man would.
"If you'll excuse us," Jasper said, his teeth gritted with forced concentration. "We'd rather have the girl. Really, we've had quite a lot. You may have the man."
"Do you overlook my generosity?" the nomad growled, puffing up his chest.
For a long moment, the two stared at each other, each one exacerbating the other's territorial anger and thirst.
The vampire laughed without humor. "Very well. You may have them both if the big one can manage to walk himself out of here all on his own. Otherwise, they're both mine and no one walks out of here alive."
We rushed to the man's side, but he tried to shoo us away. He was badly wounded and bleeding. The loss of blood made him delirious, crawling on his hands and knees. He seemed to forget we were vampires. "Go away! Go away! I need to stay with Suzie! I need to stay with her!"
Jasper froze. A stroke of inspiration. "She's right out there."
"Where? Where?" he mumbled.
"She's at the campground, don't you see her?"
"I do! I - ugh." He screamed in pain as the venom began to work his way through his body. We had minutes to pull the venom out and bring him to Carlisle, before he either died or the transformation quickened.
Jasper closed his eyes, shutting out all of the emotions emanating from us. He stared down at the man, his eyes not cold or warm, but clinical. "What's your name?"
For the first time, the human's eyes began to clear, as if realizing something. "Randall. My name's Randall."
He placed a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the face. "Randall. Follow me." Jasper gave the man a fierce look of determination before disappearing into the woods.
Randall turned and sprinted, as fast as a half-dead man could.
The vampire smiled walking closer to me. "I don't know how you did it. But I would think at least one of you had the brains to stay together."
I held completely still. Jasper appeared behind him and wiped his head clean off of his shoulders. I caught the child in time. I won't go into detail, but I wish we could have wiped her memory.
We managed to get Randall -
"Wait a minute," Leah screeched. "Does Randall live? Is the child okay? Where the hell is the happy part?"
"There is, but this is a story of substance. I'm trying to make you understand -"
"Oh." She frowned, considering. "You see this is why I like you. You're like a cool grandpa that tells me war stories."
"How flattering."
"Yes, how flattering," a third voice added.
Leah and Edward scrambled to their feet.
Up the path walked a chestnut-haired girl, dragging a suitcase behind her. Leah almost didn't recognize the princess in a teal cape coat and tan palazzo pants instead of a ballgown. She looked odd and posh at once. Major Berry trailed a little ways behind her, looking more subdued and important than he had last time. He was wearing his blue coat but brown trousers, like the fairies they'd seen in the kingdom.
"Princess, Major," Edward greeted, sounding tired.
"Edward, Leah," she smiled widely. She was cute, up close. She'd looked constipated in the throne room.
The major bowed formally, though a little smile played at his lips.
"Hi," Leah said.
A pause followed.
"What, do you want us to bow?" she deadpanned.
"No," Echo said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I'm just observing you. How are you feeling?" She stepped closer, and ran her eyes over Leah's face, like a doctor. Leah hoped she wasn't carrying examination tools in that case.
"Uh...good. I'd feel better if we knew why you're here," Leah ventured. Something about the fairy princess set her on edge. She knew this was all part of her destiny, but it was difficult to adjust to. Sometimes it was like living in a dream.
"I'm your tutor," she shrugged as if it were obvious.
"You, the princess? She's making you work with me?"
"Actually, I volunteered. It is an honor to be trusted with such a task." The princess spoke slowly as if every phrase had to be deliberated over. "Major Berry is my partner."
"Glorified bodyguard, really," clarified said partner with a shrug.
"We weren't expecting you," Edward frowned.
"I'm days early, I know. There's been a change of plans. You'll need to start your training today. Edward's target is moving closer to us, and you're to go with him." She took a breath, pinched the bridge of her nose. "We can expect them by November."
"What?" Leah asked. "I... That's a year. Why start now?" It seemed too soon yet so far. Wasn't this what she'd been hoping for? Why did her stomach twist in knots? She'd known the queen would want her to help Edward, to experience her first kill, but she didn't expect to have it in her mind on Christmas, to spend months prepping for it.
"It could be sooner. Do not worry. Queen Ella trusts Edward to protect you."
Edward grimaced. "Must she be there?" he asked softly, like a child asking for a toy after a punishment, knowing the answer yet hoping against the odds.
Echo looked to Leah, a bit softer this time, before fixing her eyes on Edward. "You know I can't."
"It doesn't matter," Leah said. "I'll be glad to go.."
She didn't know if that was the truest way to explain herself, but it seemed best to use as few words as possible when obeying, no, complying with, the queen. She wasn't backing down from the challenge of proving herself as guardian. And if Edward was by her side the whole time, even better.
"Great," the princess breathed, looking relieved, oddly. Like they could disobey. "We can begin training this week."
"Woah, this is moving too fast." Leah sat on the front steps, backing away from said challenge, resting her head in her hands.
This was serious. She and Edward were going to go around shooting people. Or something along those lines. What would be the first order of business? Target practice?
"Leah, you have my word that I will not allow you to be harmed," Echo reassured.
"And a royal's word is gold," Troy added with a warm smile.
"I never made such claims," Echo added primly.
"What is your word worth, then?" he grinned, leaning closer. "Silver? Not copper, surely."
"It is worth far more than yours, seeing as you make ladies false promises."
"I'll have to redeem myself. How much gold do you request, Miss Leah?"
"She should have the little you can muster, but any more than that will be dirt."
"Dirt! It's you who's rusty. You learn a few fancy tricks and forget the basics - the television screens, the mutation spells, the singing library -"
"Look who's been watching my work closely," she mused.
He leaned closer and stage-whispered, "I watch in case I have to push others out of the way of an explosion, Coco."
The fairy woman blushed. "That's a child's nickname."
Leah coughed loudly, muttering, "Get a room."
Edward wasn't quick enough in hiding his embarrassed, yet entertained laughter.
Troy clasped his hands behind his head, fully shrugging off the appearance of a grave military man. "So much for a professional."
"You started it," Echo protested. She sighed. "Miss Leah, do forgive our insouciance, but we don't understand what could possibly aggravate your nerves at this point."
"Lay off her," Edward told them, stepping closer to Leah. "She's stressed out as it is."
"Don't mind me!" Leah piped up. "I'm just getting used to the idea of...of killing. No matter who or what it is, this is a lot to ask."
Troy rested a hand on Echo's shoulder and the princess lowered her gaze to the snow-covered ground. The major sat next to Leah on the steps.
"What is your favorite flower?" he asked.
"I don't have one," Leah said. Violets. Violets Sam would give her just because. Violets he'd started growing in his mother's garden just for her.
"Even better," Troy said, leaning down and brushing the ground with his fingertips. The snow melted away where his fingers touched, and a bud sprouted from the wet grass, twisting, winding, and stretching into a small yellow rose. Humming to himself, he plucked the plant from the earth and pressed it to Leah's hand.
"I - Thank you," she said, startled.
"There's more where that came from," he smiled.
"Never would have took you for the gardening type." Despite his status and uniform, he seemed too harebrained and excitable for the required patience and care. This man had even misplaced a sword upon their last meeting.
"What, too manly?" he laughed. "Curse the day I cannot grow a common flower, old as I am!"
"I just didn't think it was essential to a major of a fairy kingdom."
"Not even after a history lesson from the queen," he scoffed, feigning indignance. "It is a natural skill, but developed in children as young as twelve at our schools. And the princess there" (nodding to Echo) "will tell you I'm the best in the kingdom."
"Best officer under thirty, I said," Echo smiled, shaking her head.
"So it is," Troy relented. "Would you like to learn, Leah?"
"You'll teach me? Can I... can I even do that?" she babbled.
"Of course. We would not give you the power to destroy without the power to create."
"Well put, major. A balance," Echo said. "It's what keeps the world turning."
Leah caught Edward's eyes. He looked statuesque, leaning against a post, a hand cupping his jaw. He nodded slowly. That was the only opinion she'd get from him until they were alone. Either way, it was her choice, her destiny, her moment.
She turned back to Major Berry and Princess Echo. "When do we start?"