Chapter 23 - The Return

Edward

The late night air has grown cooler since Bella fell asleep. She's curled herself into a ball underneath the sheets, still naked, with her knees tucked into her chest. I cross the room and lay a blanket over her. Within minutes, a soft smile blooms on her lips.

Beautiful.

Although I walk back to my guarding post by the window, my eyes refuse to leave her face. I keep replaying what happened earlier tonight inside of my head.

Bella's dark hair spread across her pillowcase.

Endless, creamy-white skin that I was free to explore to my heart's content.

Her mouth parted open, gasping for breath.

It was a wondrous feeling to know I put that look of pleasure on her face. But, frankly, I was floored by her the very first moment I unbuttoned her blouse. I discovered that she had on a white bra. I recognized it immediately.

It was the same bra that I once kept in my pocket. The one I used to acclimate myself to her scent.

The bra seemed to highlight her innocence. It was simple, not at all revealing. That didn't matter to me. Silk or lace couldn't have made her any more stunning in that moment. I knew I didn't deserve to have her, especially not in the way she wanted tonight. But, I was weak and couldn't hold myself back. I wanted to love her like a normal man, and I was determined to give her what she asked.

I did well in the beginning. I was careful with her and my mind remained clear. We did things I never would have believed possible a month ago. Her hands wandered over me, seeming not at all repulsed by my cold skin. And, I watched in awe as she shook from my touch alone. When I moved on top of her, everything seemed to fall into place. I suddenly knew beyond a doubt that I needed her like a plant needs sunlight. I couldn't exist without her now. To think that I once believed I could stay away from her was laughable. Soon, I lost myself in the sensation of having her underneath me. She was soft, satin-smooth, and warm. One swift movement on my part, and we would have been joined together.

But while I prepared to take Bella's body, the monster crept out of hiding and demanded something else.

Her life.

With her racing pulse throbbing in my ears, her scent became more intoxicating than ever before. My mind was so clouded with lust, I failed to realize that I was being drawn to her throat. I grazed my mouth over her heated skin and then licked my lips. She tasted divine. Perfectly sweet, with just a hint of some aromatic spice to drive me mad. That was all the monster needed to know. It readied itself to strike. And I was too far gone to notice.

Until Bella moaned.

The sound was like cold water thrown in my face. I opened my eyes and saw that I wasn't merely nuzzling her neck like a lover. I was being seduced by the scent of her blood.

And I hated myself for it.

I pulled away from her neck and fell into despair. I could have killed her. And for what? One night of sex? How stupid of me. I behaved recklessly and almost lost her just to placate my own selfish desires. I ignored the fact that I hadn't hunted in weeks, believing I was strong enough to give her what she wanted.

I wasn't.

I can never, ever be so negligent with her again.

When Bella questioned me concerning why I had stopped, I kept my explanation short and simple. I said that since I hadn't hunted recently, I could tell that my self-control was slipping. She accepted my response without wanting much detail. I told myself that I didn't want to scare her and that's why I didn't give her the whole story. The truth was that I was afraid. If she had been aware of how close we had been to disaster, she wouldn't want to be near me. And I wouldn't blame her. Not one bit.

While I brood over everything that transpired tonight, Chief Swan arrives home. It's around one o'clock in the morning. I see a picture within his mind of a man being carted off in handcuffs. The criminal he was after this evening must have been apprehended. The Chief crawls into bed, exhausted. At the same time, I slip outside through Bella's window. I need to run a few laps around Forks and check for trouble. Now that her father is home, I feel better about leaving her alone for a while.

Everything appears fine during my patrol. I return to Bella's room like I always do. An hour later, I do another run around town. This is how my night progresses until I get a visitor near daybreak.

I'm here, Edward, Esme thinks from outside the Swan residence. How did your patrol go?

I rise up from the chair I've been sitting in for the past several minutes and move to the window. I catch sight of her in the backyard, standing at the woodline. "It was uneventful," I answer below a whisper. I don't want to wake Bella up this early.

"That's good," she says.

"Esme, I need to hunt today. Would you mind checking on Bella every so often until I come back?"

"I'd be happy to. How long will you be gone?"

I rake a hand through my hair as I think. "I'm not sure, but no doubt I'll be back by nightfall."

"Is that all? You've gone too long without feeding, dear. I'm not sure a few hours of hunting will be enough to fill you up."

"Well, it's going to have to be enough. I can't stay away from Bella any longer than that."

Esme grins. Hearing any hint of my affection towards Bella leaves her tickled pink. "All right," she replies. After a moment's consideration, she adds, "And I'll let Carlisle know he should keep an eye on Bella too once it's time for him to take over."

I thank her. She nods and waves a goodbye before leaving to begin her patrol.

I take a seat back at Bella's desk and yank at the collar of my shirt. My throat has pestered me for hours. It burns relentlessly, demanding blood to soothe the pain. However, leaving for the day without telling Bella first is unthinkable. I wait until her room is awash in daylight before deciding I can't put off hunting any longer. I move to her side of the bed and take a moment to admire her sleeping form. Next, I bend over and place a kiss to her forehead. Her face scrunches together at being disturbed. I barely hold back a chuckle.

"Good morning," I say.

"Morning," she murmurs as she wipes the sleep away from her glazed-over eyes. She blinks a few times. Then, her eyes focus on me and sharpen into points. "You got dressed," she gripes.

I smirk at her. "Well, I thought it was necessary under the circumstances. Would you rather I had run around Forks last night without any clothes on?"

The irritation on her face disappears. I'm also quick to notice the faint blush which now stains her cheeks. "Oh yeah. I forgot about your night patrol," she replies in a softer tone. I'm somewhat surprised when a small smile gradually makes its way up her face. "But you're not on duty anymore, right?" She pulls open her blanket, exposing not only the empty spot beside her, but also her naked body to me. "It's early. Come back to bed," she says.

Although my throat is plagued with thirst, I gaze at her with a fierce hunger of another sort burning in my eyes. She's made up of girlish curves, long and perfectly proportioned legs, and round, pink-tipped breasts. I want nothing more than to slide under those sheets and continue where we left off last night.

But, alas, I cannot.

I force myself to remain where I am and slip my hands into my pockets. "As much as I would love to accept that offer of yours, I'm going to have to take a rain check."

"Why?"

"For one, I have to hunt today. And for two, your father is home."

Bella's face drops along with the blanket, unfortunately taking away the view of her I had been admiring. "I didn't know Dad was back yet," she says, suddenly not sounding as flirtatious. There's a distinct frown on her face now. "When do you have to go?"

"I'm leaving now."

"Oh." I hear the disappointment in her voice plain as day.

"I won't be gone long," I add quickly. "I promise I'll be back by sunset."

She closes her eyes momentarily, then shakes her head. "No. It's fine, Edward. You take all the time you need. You can't be around here 24/7." She smiles again, but it appears forced. "Will you do something for me while you're gone?"

"Anything."

"Catch something good and drink it in my honor," she says.

"What are you in the mood for?"

She squints one eye as she ponders my question. "Um... mountain lion sounds good, I guess."

I can't hold in my laugh this time. "What a coincidence. Mountain lion is my favorite delicacy, too." I lean over and kiss her. My mouth fills with venom. This is what happens when I go too long without feeding. I ignore the feeling as best as I can and instead concentrate on Bella's pillow-soft lips. Then, I back away just enough to look her in the face. My expression turns serious. "Stay safe," I say.

She yawns and snuggles back into bed. "Right back atcha," she mumbles.

I shake my head in amusement at her easygoing attitude and prepare to leave. By the time I reach the window, she's already on the brink of falling back to sleep. After one last look at her, I take off running for the national park. I'm eager to get this day over with so I can get back to her that much sooner.

In the morning, I take down a black-tailed deer. Easy pickings. I consider it an appetizer. Not long afterwards, I encounter a skunk by accident. Before it can lift its tail and spray me with its foul odor, I backtrack and flee the area. I could have fed from it, but I consider skunk to be an animal you consume only during times of famine. At midday, I find a nice sized elk and drink it dry. It isn't until early afternoon that I catch the scent of a more mouthwatering prospect - a mountain lion. I'll be able to keep my word to Bella and enjoy a delicious meal.

Perfect.

The beast is located deep within the park. I track it down to a tall outcrop of rock on the eastern half of the Olympic Peninsula. I climb up the rock's face and arrive at the top in almost no time at all. It hisses when it sees me but doesn't attempt to run, which is not normal for an animal who clearly understands the danger it's in. As I stalk towards my prey, I detect another scent in the air. Milk. Then I notice two squirming furballs behind the mountain lion. They are cubs, probably only a few days old. I heave a sigh and leave them be. My family and I have an unwritten rule that mothers with offspring are off limits.

Evening is steadily approaching when I accept that dining from a predator is unlikely today. Bears are becoming harder to find around here, and the coyotes I've seen are too scrawny to bother with. I decide to make do with another herbivore instead. I run into a couple of mountain goats who are butting heads over some territorial dispute. I settle the issue for them. They both lose.

My hunting trip is finally over. It's time for me to head west, towards the setting sun.

I can finally go home.

I cross over hills and mountains on my journey back. As I run, I take note of a certain pond that's two dozen or so miles away from Forks. It's surface reflects back the pristine scenery like a mirror. Nestled in a peaceful valley, the crystal clear pond is surrounded by a crowded grove of fir trees. They grow so close together, they act almost like curtains. Bella would love it here. We would have privacy, too. Once the weather warms up this summer, perhaps we can take a dip in that pond... swimsuits optional, of course.

The image I'm seeing of Bella in my head makes me run a little faster. I think I'll tell her about the pond as soon as I see her. I hope my idea sounds as good to her as it does to me.

I run a few more steps. A scent slams into me like a brick wall, banishing my pleasant thoughts far from my mind. The scent is strong, indicating that it hasn't been here for long. I come to a stop and breathe in deep again, just to ensure that I am not imagining it. Sadly, it is real.

I clench my fists and shoot off like lightning into the forest.

James.

He came back.

In an almost blinding rage, I follow the nomad's trail. I warned him not to show his face around here, yet he ignored me and has returned again. This is a mistake on his part. Now he must pay for the sins he has committed. He killed an innocent teenage girl and two men just to thumb his nose at me. Plus, there are his threats to Bella's life that he will have to answer for. He won't get off easy. I'll make sure of that.

James doesn't appear to like running in straight lines. His trail weaves around the trees and through thick underbrush in an unpredictable pattern. It eventually intersects with another trail he has left behind. One goes left, the other right. Which is the most recent? It's impossible to know. Both are only minutes old. I choose one at random and follow it until it merges into even more scent trails. It reminds me of an intersection on a highway. He could have gone in four different directions.

While I debate what I should do, I pick up on someone's thoughts. I recognize their mind immediately. It's Carlisle. He is tracking James' scent too. Without wasting another precious second, I run in the direction I believe he's traveling. I'm desperate to find out if he knows anything.

When Carlisle sees me, he slides to a halt, sending up a cloud of leaves and dirt. "Edward! Am I glad I bumped into you," he says so fast no human could keep up. "James is around here somewhere."

"I know. Have you seen him yet?"

He shakes his head in the negative. "I just found his scent a few minutes ago."

"Has he gotten close to town?"

"No. All the scent trails I've come across have been far away from Forks." He frowns. "It's the craziest thing. It feels like I'm running around in a maze. As far as I can tell, James doesn't appear to have any particular destination in mind. He'll go a few miles, stop on a dime, and then take off in a random direction - usually towards a place that doesn't have anything of interest to a vampire with his diet. There's no humans living anywhere out here. Then, he'll run until he meets up with another one of his trails and the pattern repeats itself. I don't understand what the point to all this running around could be."

My brow furrows in concentration.

The truth finally hits me.

Carlisle is right.

This is a maze...one that James has created intentionally. There's a reason why the trails he made are random and unpredictable. This was meant to confound us, to keep us occupied, to distract us from what's really going on.

My eyes fly back to Carlisle. "Is Esme still on patrol?"

"No. She went home after I took over duty an hour ago."

My dead heart drops. That means Forks is currently defenseless. Although it appears James hasn't gone anywhere near town, I don't trust that nomad. I am certain he's here today for a reason.

"I have to check on Bella," I yell as I back away from Carlisle. "I'll send Esme here to help as soon as I can!"

Then I'm gone, leaving him to search for James on his own.

As I run, I occasionally pick up on more scent trails. They are scattered through the forest like weeds. Yet the closer I get to Forks, James' scent fades until it becomes nonexistent. I take only a small comfort in that. When I am a handful of miles away from town, I leap across a bubbling stream and land on the opposite side.

James' stench shows up again out of the blue.

Traveling via waterways is a tactic vampires use when they wish to conceal their presence while passing through an area. Water washes away your scent very well. I have often worried James would utilize this method to sneak his way back to the Olympic Peninsula, and it appears that is exactly what he has done today. However, as I stand here, another scent invades my nostrils as well. It's like cherry cough syrup and citrus. I am certain I have come across it before. Back then, it burned my throat, like all human scents do. It doesn't now. There's a new quality to it that has me growling.

James isn't alone.

To make matters worse, while James' scent disappears back into the stream (presumably with the intention of heading back to the wilderness of the national park), this new but also frighteningly familiar scent remains on land and sets off in the opposite direction.

To civilization.

Towards Forks.

I leave the scene without delay, reeling from what I have learned. I knew James was a despicable creature, but just how far he would go to try to win this sick game he started was beyond even my imagination. What happened today is my fault. I had the facts in front of me this whole time and failed to connect the dots. James didn't stay away for as long as he did because he was fearful of confronting my family, as we led ourselves to believe. In reality he was waiting for the perfect time to strike. Evidently, that time is now. His companion must be able to now control their bloodlust long enough to do his bidding.

I push myself to race faster to Bella's house. The high rate of speed I'm traveling causes a piece of laminated paper to be ripped from a telephone pole right outside of town. It lands in the mud. I leave it there and keep on going. I've studied that flyer many times before. The face of a smiling girl is featured on it. Although I only spoke with her once, I remember the girl well enough. She was young, vain, and far too overconfident. I never liked her, but I did feel guilty when she came up missing three months ago. She had mistakenly put her trust in James and was never seen again. I had assumed he drained her of life, threw her body away as though she was no better than garbage, and that was the end of it.

I was wrong.

Underneath the photograph on the flyer, the words written on it are forever burnt into my brain.

Missing Since March 11, 1985

Victoria "Rory" Parker. Age: 17

Please help bring our daughter home.

.

.

00000000000000000000

Bella

I'm smiling as I push a couple of Pop-Tarts into the toaster. Before Edward left early this morning to hunt, I saw how he was looking at me. His jet black eyes were hooded, just like they were last night when he was making every nerve in my body sing.

Maybe I can convince him to practice some more tonight...

I release a dreamy sigh. I can't wait until he gets back.

I grab the cooked Pop-Tarts and set them on a plate. I'm almost done eating breakfast when Dad walks into the kitchen. He pours a cup of coffee and sits across the table from me. I suddenly remember that he had to leave the house last night because of some law enforcement issue. A robbery had been committed in the county below ours and the sheriff's department there needed Dad's help.

"What time did you get home last night?" I ask him.

"Not too late. We found our suspect on the side of the highway before midnight. He robbed the gas station but didn't bother to check to see if he had enough gasoline in his car to make a clean getaway. He wasn't exactly a criminal mastermind." Dad takes a sip from his coffee mug. "Do you have any plans today?"

"Not really. I was just gonna read and maybe do some laundry. Why?"

"Well, I know it's Sunday and all, but I was wondering if you'd go to the hardware store with me. I'd like some help on which paint I should buy."

"Paint for what?"

He lowers his eyes to the table. "The living room," he mutters, barely moving his lips.

The last piece of Pop-Tart falls from my fingers, forgotten completely. The living room has been trapped in the year 1967 for as long as I can remember. The walls are covered in dark wood paneling that's about as cheerful as a black hole. In contrast, the window frames and doors are painted in a shade of yellow that threatens to melt your corneas. The color was Mom's idea after they bought the house - "to brighten things up", she once said. I've suspected that's why Dad has been reluctant to get rid of it. He's protective of just about anything Mom ever touched.

"Are you serious?" I blurt out.

"Yeah...the paint is starting to chip. Plus, I figure it's time for a change. I was thinking maybe we could paint over the paneling too and give the place a whole new look. What do you think?"

I try to remain calm. The truth is I have hated that living room for almost a decade. It looks like a sanctuary for hippies. All that's missing is some macrame art on the walls and a lava lamp. But for Dad's sake, I decide that I'd better keep that harsh opinion to myself. I don't want to hurt his feelings.

"Sure. Painting the living room sounds like a good idea," I say as casually as I can. Then, I practically leap from the table and throw my dirty plate into the sink. I'm ready to go to the hardware store right away before Dad changes his mind. I'll happily stare at paint cans all day if it means finally getting a new living room. Now, if only I can convince Dad to rip out the tacky gold carpeting in there. Maybe then this house will truly be freed from the decorating horrors of the 1960s.

We make it to the hardware store by midmorning. There's a massive wall of paint sample cards to browse through. It's obvious Dad has no clue what he's doing. He picks up seemingly random colors and asks what I think about them. I have to remind him that avocado green and orange went out of style back when The Brady Bunch was cancelled.

I eventually come across a color that looks familiar. It matches the Cullen living room's walls... which gets me to thinking.

I take a peek at Dad. He's been easier to live with this past month or so. He hasn't been as gruff or standoffish, he treats me more like a teenager now than a small child, and he tries to have normal conversations with me at the dinner table. Maybe the time has come to begin getting him used to the fact that a certain someone will be returning to Forks.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"You know...I was shopping at the grocery store the other day and overheard some interesting news." I'm grateful he isn't looking at me. Otherwise, he would probably see right through my lie.

"I'm not surprised. The Thriftway is usually a hotbed of information," he replies while putting a paint sample card back where it came from. "The town newspaper ought to keep a reporter stationed down there."

I laugh nervously. "Yeah, they should."

"So, what did you hear?"

"Um... I was in the checkout line, and, uh, the cashier was chatting with the person ahead of me. Well, it turns out that it was Mrs. Cullen. She was telling the cashier that her son will be moving back to Forks soon. I guess he didn't like living so far away from his parents."

Dad's shoulders square up. He turns away from the paint sample case to stare at me. "How soon?"

"Sometime this summer. His mom said something about there being just enough time for Edward to get settled before school restarts."

He frowns, making the ends of his mustache droop down to his chin. He looks like a walrus that just ate a rotten fish by accident. "Wonderful," he grumbles.

I throw a frown right back at him. "Don't act like it's the end of the world just because Edward is moving back. You would see for yourself that he's a good person if you tried getting to know him."

He narrows his eyes. "Really? And how well do you know this boy?"

"Pretty good. We shared two classes together before he moved. We were friends, Dad."

Very good friends. Like, boyfriend and girlfriend type of friends, I add inside my head. It's too soon to admit to him what Edward really means to me. Baby steps work best when it comes to revealing the truth to Charles Swan.

"I don't think you know him as well as you think," Dad counters. "That boy is a hooligan. I found several cassette tapes in his car."

"Edward was new to town at the time. How was he supposed to know that they're forbidden? It's not like you handed him a list of rules to follow when he and his family first moved here. Besides, how does him having a few cassettes make him any worse than the other kids around Forks? I heard you caught the mayor's kid with a cassette a couple of weeks back. Did you call her a hooligan too?"

"No," he drawls with seeming reluctance.

"Well, that's not fair. She's lived here her whole life. She knew it was against the law. But I guess since she's the mayor's daughter, that makes what she did OK in your eyes. Right?"

"Now, I didn't say that..."

"Then what makes her case different from Edward's?"

"She showed remorse for what she did. He didn't."

I give him the side-eye. "All she did was cry and beg for you to not tell her parents. I don't think being sorry that you were caught with something you weren't supposed to have is the same thing as remorse."

Dad grunts and picks up another paint sample. He studies it quietly for a long time, pretending like it's real interesting.

"I don't trust him either," he grumbles all of the sudden.

"Why not? Edward's just a boy."

He meets my gaze again. "Exactly. He's just a boy who - last time he was here - wanted to get you alone in his car for some reason."

I roll my eyes and snort. I can't believe this. Dad thinks Edward wanted to take advantage of me? Ha! Little does he know that I'm the one who had to push Edward to go past second base last night.

"It was raining that day, Dad. Edward gave me a ride so I wouldn't drown while trying to bike home from school. He was being nice."

"So he didn't try anything funny on you?" Dad says, suspicion burning in his tone.

"No!"

Dad grunts again, his frown just as heavy as before. "I still don't want you riding around with him. A boy his age shouldn't have a sports car. Makes 'em want to drive fast and ignore traffic laws. He's bound to wreck it someday."

I let out a tired sigh. This is a touchy subject for him. Teenagers, music, and car accidents are reminders of how he lost Mom. I can't push him any more today than I have already. Baby steps.

"Fine. I promise I won't get anywhere near Edward if he's behind the wheel of his fancy car. OK, Dad?"

Because I'll be the one driving his Jaguar... I add silently. I'm sure Edward won't mind.

Dad's face lightens up a fraction. He nods slowly a few times. "OK."

We go back to looking at paint samples, our tense conversation now behind us. It wasn't perfect, but at least it was a start. He didn't outright ban me from talking to Edward either. That's a positive outcome. Maybe one day in the future Dad will get to the point where he can hear Edward's name without getting frown lines. I look forward to it.

After an exhausting search of the paint samples, we settle on a pastel blue for the living room. The doors and windows will be white. It's decided that we will begin painting right away, which is fine by me. I can't wait to hide the ugly wall paneling under some paint. Lots and lots of paint. The more layers between that paneling and me the better.

We get the base coat on the entire living room before noon. While it dries, we have a lunch of sandwiches and chips. Later, he works on applying blue paint to the walls using a roller. I concentrate on doing the trim and doorways with a paint brush. By six o'clock, the eyesore of a living room has transformed into something I can be proud of. It looks modern and feels less oppressive than it used to be. Though, we do notice a few spots that need another coat of paint. Dad says it will have to wait until after dinner. He orders a pizza to keep me from having to cook. I'm happy with that decision.

Still in our paint splattered clothes, we eat our dinner sitting cross-legged on the living room floor.

"You did a good job on those windows," Dad says out of nowhere.

I stop mid-chew. "Huh?"

"They can be tricky. It takes a good eye and a lot of patience to not get any paint on the glass."

I barely swallow the pizza down. I haven't gotten a compliment out of my dad in...well, ever.

"Um, thanks," I reply.

He nods once and focuses back on eating. I do the same, but I also have to hide my smile behind a slice of pizza.

We're ready to get back to work by the time dusk approaches. We divide up the places around the living room that need another coat of paint and work independently. I volunteered for the hardest job: the area near the fireplace. I carefully go over the spots that need retouching and try to keep the paint off the gray stones. Since my task is a hassle to deal with, Dad decides it's only fair that he should be the one to paint everything else. It's because of that decision I am finished before him. I walk to the sheet-covered coffee table and grab a rag. I have to scrub this paint off my fingers.

Bang!

My head snaps in the direction of where the sound came. I'm confused by what I see.

The front door came off its hinges and has fallen flat on the floor.

I lift my eyes away from that sight to find a woman standing on our welcome mat, her closed fist still raised high in the air. Her lips curve into an unsettling smile.

"Oops. Looks like I knocked too hard," she says. Her voice is high, almost childlike, but with a valley girl accent that sounds almost familiar.

I stare at this person in petrified shock. She's in a dirty jean skirt and a torn t-shirt. In spite of the sloppy state of her clothes, she is undeniably beautiful. It's like she's been airbrushed and any imperfections were hidden from sight. Even her hair is beautiful. It's a mass of flames, made up of wisps of curly red strands that appear to have a life of their own. Her skin, on the other hand, is an unnatural eggshell white. She's pale...as pale as Edward. But, it's her eyes that stand out the most.

They are as red as her hair.

The blood in my veins turns to ice. I know exactly what she is. She is a vampire...but I don't think she drinks animal blood like the Cullens do. And although she looks a lot different, I swear I know who this person is too. I should. She only made my life miserable during most of high school.

"Rory?" I breathe out.

Dad, who has done nothing in these last few seconds except gape at her and our broken door, suddenly perks up. "Rory? Are you saying that's Rory Parker?"

She cackles a laugh and ends it with a dramatic sigh. "Aww. Like, it's cute that you two have the brains to figure out who I am, but I don't go by that name anymore. James said it sounded infantile... whatever that means."

Dad sets down the paint roller, his eyes glued on Rory. "Where did you go? We've been looking for you for weeks. Your parents are worried sick."

She doesn't say a word. Instead, she moves with a quiet, stealthy gait, like a feline, into the house. After only a couple of steps, she stops. She squeezes her eyes shut. "Fuck, it smells good in here. I should have eaten more." After a short pause, she reopens her eyes. She appears more in control of herself than before. Stretching out an arm, she waves her hand impatiently, beckoning me. "Come on," she says. "Let's get going. James is waiting."

Dad's expression hardens to stone. He moves himself closer to me. "My daughter isn't going anywhere right now. And you never answered my question."

"Yeah, and don't hold your breath, Chief. I'm not telling you shit." She turns her attention back to me. "I bet you know what's going on, don't you? I smelled traces of that whole coven around this house... especially the one that James said was the asshole that gave him such a problem a while back. It looks like he comes here a lot." She raises an eyebrow at me. "You got a secret you wanna share?"

Dad tears his attention away from Rory. It lands entirely on me. "What is she talking about?"

My palms start to sweat. I wipe them off on my jeans. It doesn't seem to help my nerves much. I don't know where to look or what to say. "I...I..."

"I knew it," Rory interrupts, sounding almost bored. "You just had to get yourself a bodyguard, didn't you? Well, it won't do you any good. He's too busy right now to come help you."

My heart stutters in my chest. I start seeing all sorts of horrible things happening to Edward inside of my head. James following him. James attacking him. James hurting him.

"What do you mean? What's happening!" I shout in panic.

She smiles, showing all of her front teeth. They're white and glistening, like I would imagine a wolf's fangs would be in a fairytale. Dad gasps. She continues to ignore him. "Don't worry about it," she says to me. "When James is given a challenge, he never backs down...even when she's being protected by an entire coven."

Dad shuffles forward a step, his eyes aimed for only a fraction of a second at the coat rack near the door. Rory follows his gaze and grins wider. She sidesteps over to the rack and snatches the gun belt he had been staring at.

"Is this what you wanted?" she says condescendingly. She pulls out his service revolver from the holster and studies it, flipping it over in her hands a couple of times. Without warning, she crushes the gun into a ball, as though it's no stronger than aluminum foil. She tosses the useless metal down and kicks it across the floor. It bumps into Dad's foot. "There you go!" she says cheerfully. "See what you can do with that, Chief."

He doesn't bother picking it up. His face has turned ghost white. "What in the hell are you?" he whispers.

Rory turns to me, all humor gone. "Are you ready to go now? If you're not, I guess I could tell James that I 'accidentally' broke your neck while I was running with you. But, I know he has his heart set on getting you alive in one piece. I'd hate to disappoint him."

I glance over at Dad. He's still silently searching for answers as to what's going on. For his sake, I hope he never gets them. As long as he doesn't know the truth, the Volturi won't hurt him. James doesn't have any interest in him either. It's me who has made Dad unsafe. I'm the one who brought danger to his house.

I let out a lungful of air. There's no sense in fighting it. My fate has already been decided. I hope it won't be too painful.

At least Dad will be able to go on living once I'm gone.

I walk forward. Dad grabs my upper arm, keeping me from going a step farther. He jerks me behind him and acts as a wall, partially blocking my view of Rory. "No," he spits out, the word filled with defiance. "If you want her, you'll have to get through me first."

Rory shrugs a shoulder. "OK."

Not even a second goes by and she's directly in front of us. She swats her hand, as though Dad is only an insect that's pestering her. It knocks into his chest, sending him sailing across the living room.

The sound of my dad hitting the stone fireplace is louder than anything I've ever heard.

"No!" I scream.

Rory reaches for me. Her hand freezes before making contact. A change comes over her. She turns her head away from me to focus on where my dad lies crumpled on the floor. Blood pours like a faucet from his mouth and drips down his chin. Rory's bright red eyes turn feral. A terrible hiss escapes between her teeth. I watch in horror as she drops into a crouch on the floor, like a marathon runner at the starting line of a race.

Then she's off.

Boom!

I have to cover my ears to protect myself from the thunderous sound. The wall separating the kitchen from the living room bursts into splinters, shaking the house like an earthquake. Next thing I see is something hurling through the air. It lands with a crash on top of our television set, destroying it on impact. I spot a long, lanky frame and hair sticking up in every direction.

A tiny particle of hope crawls back inside of my chest.

Edward. He's here.

He rushes across the room and collides again with Rory. It's like mountains smashing into one another, stone on stone scraping together as they fight. They move so fast, I can only see what's going on intermittently. She's kicking him in the gut. He's twisting her arm behind her back. Then I hear a crash and another part of the house tumbles to the ground.

"Bella! Move!" Edward yells at the top of his lungs.

His voice reawakens me from my stupor. I realize I'm standing in the middle of the living room, right in the thick of things. I run to where Dad is and drop down to my knees. His eyes are barely open. There's a large wound to the back of his head. God only knows what injuries there are that I can't see. I pull off my outer shirt and use it to clean the dripping blood from his chin. More comes out of his mouth to replace what I wiped away. It won't stop. And each time he takes a breath, I can hear something watery in his lungs.

I'm afraid to know what that means.

Something strikes the mantle right above our heads, raining down numerous wood fragments on us. I think it was the coffee table. I let out a yelp and try to block Dad from getting hit as best as I can. Once the last piece falls, I stand up and grab underneath his armpits. I've got to get him to a safer place.

"Dad, stand up," I urge.

All he can do is moan.

I press my lips together to keep from screaming. He can't move, and I'm not strong enough to pick him up. I huddle back down beside him. "It's all right," I say as calmly as I can. "We'll get you to the hospital soon and they'll help you."

He's so out of it, I'm not sure if he heard me.

The light-colored shirt I have pressed to his mouth turns red as the seconds add up. Soon I have to lift his head and put it on my lap to keep the blood from choking him. And all the while, the battle rages on.

An enormous crash finally brings Dad back to semi-awareness. Edward had just flung Rory off his back, sending her flying. The first several steps of the staircase collapsed underneath her from where she landed. She bares her teeth like an animal and goes in for another attack. Edward dodges her punches, moving seamlessly left and right, ducking up and down. It almost looks like he's dancing. Then he leaps over her head, lands on his feet behind her, and sweeps her legs out from underneath her.

Dad's breathing accelerates. His eyes grow wider and wider each time he sees Edward perform some stunt from across the room. Super speed. Incredible strength. Unbelievable aerobatics.

My dad looks up at me, fear haunting his eyes. That's when I know for sure he has discovered the truth.

He knows Edward isn't human.

His lips quiver silently several times. Gathering up the last bit of energy left to his name, he opens his mouth.

"Run," he gasps out.

A tear rolls down my cheek. I shake my head. "I can't."

A strange expression spreads across his face. Can he see my love for Edward in my eyes? Does he understand that running from Edward would be as impossible for me as ripping out my own heart and leaving it behind?

The look Dad gives is gone almost as quickly as it appeared. He begins coughing violently. His complexion fades to dull gray. I lift him higher on my lap in hopes it will make breathing easier for him. It doesn't. He sputters a few more times.

Then he goes completely still.

"Dad?" I whisper.

He doesn't make a sound.

I take his wrist and check for a pulse. I don't find one.

I remain motionless on the floor, unable to process what has happened. A sound like grinding metal finally draws my eyes away from Dad. Edward has Rory in a headlock. She's trying to claw his face, but his height advantage keeps her from being able to reach. She lets out a scream, one that chills me to the bone. Edward does a quick twisting motion with his arm.

Rory's head flops to the ground. It rolls several feet before coming to a stop in the center of the living room.

Edward throws her body to the side and rushes over. His hands explore my face while his eyes scan the rest of me. "Are you hurt?" he asks.

"No." I glance down to where my dad rests partially on my lap. "Is he...?"

Edward does a slow head nod, confirming my unfinished question. At the same time, he closes my dad's unblinking eyes using his thumb and forefinger. "I'm sorry, Bella," he says gently.

I suck in a breath, trying desperately to hold it together. When the moment passes, I look to the headless body on the opposite side of the room. "And Rory?" I ask in a small voice.

He takes a moment to scowl at her. "She won't bother you ever again." A flash of fear flits across his face without explanation. It's the same look Dad gave when he learned Edward wasn't human. Edward seizes me by both of my arms and stares hard into my eyes. "We have to get away from here," he says urgently. "James will come looking for you once he realizes something must have happened to Rory."

"Where will we go?"

"To my house for now. You'll be safer there than here. We'll decide what to do next once we have a talk with my family."

"But shouldn't we call the police first?"

"Absolutely not. Even if we gave them a plausible story to explain what happened here today, they would want to keep close tabs on you for a while. That would make it harder for me to protect you."

"So what about my dad? Are you saying that we're just going to leave him here like this?"

"We can't do anything else for him right now. We don't have time." At my look of distress, Edward's expression softens. "We'll do something about him as soon as we can. I know this feels wrong to you, but I promise he wouldn't want you to risk your life when he's already gone, Bella. He would want you some place safe."

I close my eyes, knowing in my heart that Edward is right. It doesn't help much with the guilt, though.

"OK," I say, barely loud enough to be heard. Edward squeezes my hand briefly. At the loss of contact, I search for him. He's walking back to Rory. "What are you doing?" I ask.

"I have to finish destroying her." He drags her close to the fireplace and grabs the Zippo lighter we keep on the mantle. Scooping up a few pieces of broken coffee table, he uses the wood as kindling and starts a fire. He tucks the lighter into his pocket and waits for the wood to fully ignite. It doesn't take long. He reaches for Rory's arm but pauses before touching her. His somber gaze lands on me. "Don't watch," he says.

I watch anyway.

He gives Rory's arm a rough yank. With a metallic screech, it pops off. It's like pulling apart a mannequin. There's no blood, nothing to show that she was once a living being. It's in sharp contrast to the body of my father, the man who gave up his life to step between me and a vampire.

Suddenly, I can't stand looking at what remains of Rory for a second more.

"Edward, how long will we be gone?" I ask.

"I don't know," he says while he works. "However long it takes for us to catch James."

"Would it be all right if I go grab a few things to take with me?"

He tosses Rory's head into the fireplace. The fire roars and flickers, as though gasoline was thrown on it. "Yes, but hurry. After I finish doing this, we will need to leave immediately."

I nod in understanding and jog across the living room. Most of the walls are either gone completely or so heavily damaged that they would have to be replaced. The furniture is crushed beyond repair. It's a disaster. The same goes for most of the rest of the downstairs. The staircase is in shambles too. I grab a hold of the railing and use it to help me climb to the very first step that isn't broken. I race up the rest of the stairs and fling open the very first door I see. Other than a couple of things that were knocked over from the shaking of the house, my room is unharmed.

There's a duffel bag in my closet. I snatch it down and crisscross the room, stuffing the bag with clothes I might need in the days ahead. A few shirts and pants here. Socks and shoes there. I toss in a couple of books I treasure, my locket that Edward gave me, and several other odds and ends that I can't live without.

I jerk open my nightstand drawer and grab my wallet. When I slam the drawer shut, I'm stunned immobile by the sound of shattering glass. The picture frame I keep on the nightstand fell over. I pick it up carefully. A family of three stares back at me, each one wearing a smile despite the spiderweb of cracks now running through the glass. That's the funny thing about photographs. They capture one moment in time and leave out any hint of the hard times that came afterwards. I suffered through years of loneliness, years of feeling like a outsider in my own house. And just when it looks like things are getting better around here, everything falls apart. First one, now the other parent in the photo have been taken before their time. All that's left is the grown up version of the little girl with the missing front tooth - the lone representative of the Swan family.

A drop of salt water leaks from the corner of my eye. Then another, and another. I can barely see the family portrait in my hands. Like a dam whose wall is too weak to hold back the reservoir any longer, my pent up emotions finally burst through the cracks. I cry bitterly, lungs heaving, for all that I've lost and will never have again.

While I'm trapped in the gloom, a pair of arms scoop me up. I bury my face into Edward's chest and stain his shirt with my tears. He cradles me like a child, jumps out of the window, and whisks us away into the darkening night.

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A/N-

Isabella = Bella

Charles = Charlie

Victoria = Rory (Because Vicki or Tori would have been too easy.)

Two sharp-eyed readers figured out Rory Parker's true identity weeks ago. Did you?

Next Chapter- New plans have to be made to keep Bella safe from harm. Sometimes, however, plans don't always work out exactly as foreseen.

Only four chapters remaining!

Thanks for reading. :-)