Just wanted to say a quick sorry for not uploading at the end of last week, I've been a little under the weather.
I do not own Twilight.
CHP.
B.P.O.V.
"Tell me again, what the hell we're doing here?"
Garratt dislikes crowded places, he's always said they make him feel trapped.
A tiny garden behind a brownstone is apparently not exempt from falling under that category.
"Following the only lead I have at the moment."
The place has been dark for hours, it isn't like Marie to not be home with little Isabella by now. I may not visit but once a year, but I've done plenty to insure that I know her life, and that they are both safe.
There's no scent of vampire, I already swept the front and the neighboring yards with Garratt. It should have eased my mind somewhat, yet somehow it chills me to the bone.
The vacant home in front of me does little to quell that fear.
Marie's scent is over a day old, I caught it by the door, with her daughter and one other.
The other is what worries me. Human, but not familiar. Marie isn't the sort to bring home new friends, after her ex-husband she became withdrawn, cautious, afraid he would come back for Isabella.
It's an empty fear, I've made sure of that.
I am weighing my options, to wait, or approach. Both have potential and time would certainly tell me which would be the better path, yet time is exactly what I do not have.
I received the note over twenty four hours ago now, and that has given them at least a forty eight hour head start on me.
I pride myself on my ability to keep logic and emotion apart, it has kept my family and I safe. While I would love nothing more than to be active among them, the danger of my simply existing is too great, and so I set aside the emotional tie and keep myself reserved enough to interact without letting my feelings get the better of me. In the present situation however, that logic does not seem to apply.
My gut is screaming at me to get in that house. They are long gone, and the more time I spend pretending that I can do this without attachment is more time that they are in danger.
Rushing in also blows my cover with Garratt.
He is already suspicious at our being here, and it is not lost on me that the only reason why he isn't forcing an answer if because of our friendship. Strange as it is, he enjoys our time together as I do, two misfits sticking together.
So the question is simple, what is more important, keeping this friendship, or keeping my family safe?
Simple. Simple enough to ask perhaps, and the answer is obvious, so why am I rooted here?
Why am I even arguing this point?
I grit my teeth in frustration, because I can no longer ignore another issue, one that walks hand in hand with my current problem.
Do I trust Garratt enough to tell him?
I glance up at the window I know to be little Isabella's with its plastic sticky butterflies and painfully pink flowers.
She was so happy showing me those silly little things, she proclaimed that she loved pink flowers, and wanted to be a butterfly.
My heart hurts.
And my decision is made.
I unclench the muscle locking my teeth together, and straighten from my hunched position, but I can't b ring myself to turn to his face. I may be breaking the longest friendship I've ever had.
"Garratt?"
He grunts while he pulls himself up. "Yes?"
Deep breath, just like I used to when I was nervous.
"This home. It belongs to my family. My human family."
Silence.
Something in my stomach coils, I feel like I'm being pulled in, away from the pain I'm about to experience. I'm going to lose him, my beloved friend. The first friend in a vampire I ever found. The one who taught me to defend myself, he taught me how to enjoy being a vampire.
And now he's going to hate me.
When I hear a quiet chuckle behind me I tense, and then just as quickly, I whip around, confused.
He sighs and smiles a small smile at me. "I know." He says quietly.
My mouth drops open in surprise and I can't seem to make myself close it.
He does it for me.
"Did you really think I'd let you go off like that every time we come through here? At first I thought it was to see your parent's graves, a strangely human notion that I knew you'd have. Still, I didn't want you lingering around too long, it's not smart. Imagine my surprise when you led me to a place not too far from here, to a little girl who knew your face, who had your features. I put two and two together."
He knew? All this time?
It's an oddly comforting thought. My mentor knowing my deepest secret, more precious to me than my gifts, which were coveted above all else. Gifts were perhaps as important as blood to a vampire.
"Why did you never confront me then? I'm risking much by staying with them, in shadows through all their lives."
He nodded. "But you already knew that. I know you pretty well Isabella, and if this is what you protect this fiercely and this long, then I'm more proud that you would continue to do so under my nose, risking my wrath and anyone else's who finds out." He grins. "Glad to know my rebel ideals rubbed off on you a bit."
I can't help my scowl at him. "There is nothing to mistaken as gentlemanly about you."
He laughs and his smile widens but he doesn't try to defend himself.
He's just Garratt, he's himself with no apology.
And he's accepting me just the same.
My lips turn upward.
"So, you'll help me find them?"
His laughter dies away at my question and a serious look crosses his face.
"I do not have human family Isabella, I let them go a long time ago. I won't pretend to understand your tie to them, but I do understand my tie to you. If there is such a thing as family to vampires, you would be mine, and I protect my own."
He waves his hand towards the back door. "Lead the way little miss, I'm always right behind you."
If I weren't so focused on Marie and Isabella elation would be my primary feeling.
To know I'm not alone in this, to know that it isn't me against the world for them, there's no words to describe it.
Edward's face flashes behind my blinking eyes. Hope stirs, quietly budding at the fantasy of telling him everything, of showing him the source of my whole world. Could he understand as well?
Could they all?
I can't let my mind wander any further, I hear the clicking of the lock and I'm suddenly all here. Here I'm with Garratt, and I left Edward behind.
Where I know he's safe.
I am weak enough and smart enough to admit that weakness, I needed Garratt with me. He has been with me for too long, his presence through the years has always steadied me. Walking into the dormant home, with the smell of old food and stale coffee burnt into the coffee maker I find myself thankful that he is here. I need the soldier, the patriot who is always on guard.
We both listen for any sign of life, but as expected, find none.
"Looks like dinner wasn't finished." Garratt pokes at the plate on the island with the fork in disgust.
I roll my eyes. No, I don't find anything appealing about human food, but I'm around them enough to not even be phased by the smell or idea of eating it.
We check upstairs next, combing through the bedrooms, where it's obvious that things have been packed. Little Bella's butterfly bag is gone, the one she wears everywhere. In Marie's room her drawers are left half open with bits missing from each, the bathroom is without daily necessities like a toothbrush and her odd container for the contact lenses she wears.
All signs point to them having left in somewhat of a hurry.
The question is who took them? Where did they go?
The one that bothers me most of all is why.
"Isabella, office. Now."
In a blur of darkness and hues of painted walls I'm there, his tone dropping like lead in my stomach.
He's staring at the table, which for once is clean, the exception of a single letter.
Dread creeps up my spine.
I step closer and wish for once that my sight wasn't just as sharp in the dark.
I wish that I could flip the switch and with illuminating light would come the finding of no such sealed parchment before me.
My worst fears are confirmed, and I haven't even broken the seal to read those words yet.
They are gone. Gone with whoever haunts my steps.
I have sentenced my little family to death.
This time, I do shake as I pick up the letter. My shoulders shake with the silent sobs that I know are a mere taste of my coming grief.
The wax is deathly cold but cracks perfectly in the middle when I pull at the paper.
All of my will power goes into forcing myself to lift the paper and read the words written.
They are safe. I wish I could extend the same protection to you Isabella.
Disbelief.
My knees buckle.
Plush carpet underneath me barely registers as I play those words over and over.
Safe.
They're safe.
Safe from what?
What do I need protection from?
Small dots of fear sprinkle over my mind, fear. The last time I truly feared anything was that night so long ago. I feared for my sister.
I feared for my life.
I feared the beastly monster that toyed with us, that chased us, cornered us.
Unending terror.
I haven't felt it since.
Now it is paralyzing me. Locking my knees, breaking my will to push forward, wrapping itself so tightly around me that I am frozen where I sit.
I don't hear Garratt whispering to me, I don't feel his hands on my shoulders shaking me, I don't see his worried expression right in front of me.
I'm trapped in that memory.
"Bella" Maggie whimpers my name against my shoulder where we hide, crouched against the base of an old tree.
I cover her mouth with my hand while I'm covering my own with my other hand. We're breathing loud, and though it's impossible, I know he can hear us. Even in the pitch black of woods like these, he's been keeping up with us easily. He laughs whenever Maggie whispers that we must have gotten away. He's loud, on purpose, taunting us.
A demon. That's what he is. How else could he be so fast? So strong?
My ribs ache, and I know I'm bleeding, I could feel the drips running down my side as we ran.
I turn to my little sister and try to convey my message with my eyes.
We have to keep moving.
I look towards the woods around us and then remove all but one finger from my lips to make sure she keeps quiet too. When she nods, we stand.
Her shaking hand weaves into mine and fresh tears fill her eyes.
I wait, listening for anything.
It's fall, there's plenty of dead leaves and dried branches to make noise on. But I hear nothing.
Could he really have lost us?
There's nothing but endless silence.
I nod once more at Maggie and gently tug her hand with mine to get her moving. I keep my eyes on her while we take our first few steps, trying to convey a courage I do not feel.
She gives my hand a squeeze and I suddenly think we'll make it home.
Then I turn my head forward.
He's smiling down at us, a feral grin that promises only one thing.
Agony.
"Found you."
Maggie screams.
My surroundings have changed.
Gone away are the shelves of books, the ornate carpet, the strong wooden table of Marie's office.
Replaced with the warm colors of her home are walls painted a dull grey, I'm seated on a stiff bed, with lamps jutting out from the wall, leaking yellow light into the room. A single dresser sits across from me, with an older model television settled on top. Above that is a mirror, staring back at me is myself, unblinking.
I do not feel physically stiff, but mentally I am almost lethargic. As if I've been asleep for days.
I push my toes forward, and when they move with the same ease I've had for over a century, I pull my knees to my chest.
"Finally. I've never seen a vampire go comatose before and I'm not a fan."
Garratt.
He's settled in a chair by a sliding door, outside the city lights dot the night.
"How long have I been like this?"
He sighs. "Since last night."
A whole day? I jerk forward and look at the clock.
Five am.
So only a few hours then. That's right, we went in just after ten pm.
My attention is drawn back to Garratt when he pulls the letter from his pocket with a hard look on his face.
"Do you know who this is from Isabella?"
I shake my head, feeling lost. I never told Garratt about the first letter, I never told anyone.
"I've received three, one years ago, one again two days ago now in Port Angeles. That is why I came back. You and Marie are the only ones who knew of my P.O. box there. The one you are holding is the third. They all carry that seal, but I don't know who sent them."
He nods once before opening it again.
"They are safe." He looks up. "What did the one you got in Port Angeles say?"
"It said tread carefully Isabella." I know his next question, so I answer it before he asks. "I was in Forks, Washington. Marie had spent a year collecting details on a younger brother I never knew, he was born after I was turned. His family eventually settled there, with one surviving male, a Charles Swan. I was only there a couple days when the second letter came, and I had already encountered something to be very careful around."
"Vampires?"
I shake my head. "Shape-shifters. The house he lives in reeks of them, although it wasn't until I met the coven that lives there that I learned what the smell meant."
Garratt groans. "Son of a bitch, a coven residing in the Pacific Northwest. Wouldn't happen to be the Cullen coven by any chance?"
I nod, staring at him.
"I have crossed paths with Carlisle before. He has extended an invitation to me any time I want to try out 'vegetarian' cuisine." He scoffs and shakes his head.
It brings a smile to my face.
Often times, Garratt ribs me about my choice of animal over human blood. I have of course dared him to try it, but he never has.
Apparently I am not the only one.
"They have a treaty with the Natives that reside close to them, a sort of keep the peace if you will. They stay off their lands, and no killing obviously, and in return the shifters of the tribe don't kill them."
Garratt rubs his hand over his face.
"And your Charles, he lives with these things?"
I sigh. "Yes. When I first read the second note, I was sure that whoever sent it was referring to the tribe. Regardless however, the fact that they knew that P.O. box sent me back here."
He stands, pocketing the letter and stars out over the city.
"Where you find your family gone and another letter telling you two things. They are safe, and you are not."
While I always worried over who was keeping tabs on me, I never had anything other than those letters to go on, so it seemed to be a moot point.
The idea that someone behind the curtain warning me of a danger that I would obviously need protection from however, troubled me much more.
"Well, ain't this just a fine fucking mess."
Yes, a mess.
That didn't even begin to cover it I'm afraid.
Next chapter Edward will be back! Wonder just how much he knows? I love hearing your thoughts, until next time.