Chapter Four
Who Loves The Sun
Edward's gaze stayed locked on Bella the entirety of their morning together on the roof. Her expression was mostly blank, a little wary at times. He was confused by her calm demeanor. Bella had continued to ask the most shallow, absolutely wide off the mark questions for hours. She hadn't asked about her diet, her life span, the sacrifices she would need to make in the coming days and months. He'd been frustrated with his own inability to understand her quiet introspection. Normally privy to the thoughts of his peers, Edward felt uneasy deciding the intensity of his answers. He couldn't gage how quickly she was digesting his information or if she was simply humoring him until she had the space needed to escape and take out six more humans. Bella's mind sat tightly sealed, those secret thoughts belonging to her alone.
"Where were you raised?" she asked patiently, enthralled with the vast knowledge Edward possessed. Every other question seemed to be music related; she asked personal questions sparingly, wishing to avoid potentially devastating topics. She stuck with music related questions because her undead companion had the unique ability to recount specific performances of her idols as a reliable primary source for the past century. Edward jumped at the chance to share his long forgotten history that didn't include loneliness and bloodshed.
"Evanston, Illinois. Just north of Chicago. I moved to the city in 1922 to attend Northwestern's graduate school," he recalled.
"Did you graduate?"
"No." Edward and Bella fell silent once again. "I, uh, was changed halfway through the first semester."
Bella decided to leave the elephant in the room for another day. She quickly switched the focus to her. "I dropped out of school, too," Bella whispered. "Undergrad, though," she added after an unusually charged silence. "To move to California and play music. I'm glad I did it," she laughed. Aside from a few poor decisions, like moving in with Jake and using drugs as a crutch, her declaration was true.
"For a vampire, you have very few regrets," Edward laughed along with her. He realized almost immediately his joke had struck a sensitive nerve. Bella's eyes were suddenly downcast, her posture rigid. "I'm so sorry, Bella. You aren't alone in this. We have resources for you."
"Like a Vampire library? No, no-" Bella's forehead met her hands. "The word vampire is still pretty surreal. It won't kill me." She whispered the 'V' word both times. "I'm dead already."
"Mostly."
"Yeah, mostly."
"What did you study?" Edward asked, surprisingly eager to continue their lighthearted interview.
"Art. Painting. I haven't made anything in a while," she said, sadly. She'd dropped out of school to pursue another passion, but hadn't neglected her major completely. It wasn't until Jake pulled the plug on their year long stint that she'd tossed out her remaining paints and brushes along with most of her earthly possessions in order to live in a nine passenger van. She quickly explained her lack of belongings, hoping to avoid any discussion about her current arrangements.
"I'd be thrilled to purchase you supplies, Bella. Truly, money is no object." Edward's generosity seemed unnecessary. She internally groaned. Bella had never been a material person and being undead certainly wasn't going to change her preferences. And she most definitely wasn't taking handouts from a sort of undead, dead guy.
"No, that's okay," she declined. "Besides, I'm sort of homeless living on my friend's couch. I'd have nowhere to store anything, it's pretty much a one bedroom closet."
Edward chuckled, "Well, naturally, you'd be staying at mine, Isabella. I have quite a few instruments you can use, your own room. You can paint the walls, play music all night; I don't sleep."
Stunned into silence, Bella became defensive. Jake had tried to make decisions for her in the past and she almost always pummeled him before other demands could be made. She'd always been independent and regardless of her living dead status, she was determined to regain some normalcy. She'd be a bloodsucking rockstar like Lestat in Queen of the Damned, she'd prove it to everyone. "I think I'll stay here, Edward. That's very nice," she grimaced, "but I'm twenty three and won't be needing a babysitter."
It was Edward's turn to be silent. He'd never met anyone so opposed to an olive branch. "I doubt Jasper would agree to having a strange man on his couch for weeks on end," he countered. "The rulers of our kind, the Volturi, they are unforgiving. They will not be pleased I was so careless with you, Bella, and they won't hesitate to silence you. Not to mention you've been in the public eye for a while. Effective today, Isabella Swan is dead. She died when she took a life this morning." Edward huffed, his shoulders slumping. "I'm giving you a fresh start." His creator had used the same words on him decades before. They had worked.
"Isabella Swan died when you killed her," she spat. The venom in her voice not only stung Edward, but it caused Bella to understand the final pieces of the puzzle. Until Edward's ultimatum, Bella had failed to see the heavy gravity of her entire situation. She was Paper Dolls' bass player Isabella Swan, she liked The Zombies and Harry Nilsson. Her parents were from a small town in Northern Washington. No blood siblings to speak of, but family gatherings had been full of young children and playmates. She still liked to smoke weed, an ice cold beer would always trump water on a hot day in July, but nowadays the throbbing of veins held her attention without fail as well. "I don't want a fresh start," Bella stood, angrily. "I wan't you to fuck off. I want to go back to Friday night and forget I ever met you. I, uh, I just want to go home." She faltered, finally realizing she had nowhere to call home. Even her species had abandoned her.
Bella moved to jump off the roof and Edward caught her hand, effectively stopping her. "Let me help, Bella. If it pleases you I will go to the Volturi and repent for how badly I have wronged you. They will take my life and can appoint someone of your choosing."
Her body stilled on the ledge of the roof. "Are you fucking insane, dude? I refuse your help and you threaten suicide? Let's just pretend like this never happened. Go back to your blood bags, and your sister, and just get the hell out of my life." The rusted fire escape groaned when her boots landed on the top grate.
Bella found Jasper's apartment empty, a single note mentioning a band meeting at eight haphazardly thrown on the laminate kitchen counter. It was well after four in the afternoon, he'd been gone for hours. She could tell by the weakened scent of his blood floating around in the stale air. She glanced at her blood splattered shirt for the first time, the gruesome horror of the morning's events settling into the pit of her stomach. She felt like purging all evidence of the slaughtered man entirely.
Pushing the bathroom door aside, Bella reached for the shower knob. Water pressure on high and the temperature slowly rising to scalding, she quickly pressed play on the record player and shed the last of her clothing. Jasper had left Nilsson Sings Newman on the turntable for a few days, no doubt to entice Bella into some impassioned argument that Randy Newman had better chops than Harry Nilsson. She hadn't even blinked when The Beehive State began and Jasper sang along in his native Texan twang.
This time was no exception. She was numb. Dead, well, sort of dead and entirely alone in her new reality. Edward had offered support out of obligation, but the nagging independence deeply rooted in her brain was enough to deny council from the friendliest of men. Jacob had done a number on her a few months ago and now she would never live to see the day her happiness could return. She was stuck with impulsive tattoos forever. She gotten them under the influence of whiskey and the mortal assumption all aspects of life were temporary, especially her flesh and bones. She would be stuck with hair much too long for her liking and the inability to see her band's next album to fruition.
Charlie and Renee, her estranged Mother and Father, would eventually hear of their only daughter's disappearance, not immediately though. They'd blame it on drugs and alcohol and Jacob. Maybe the band, as well. Mike and Eric deserved to grieve their chosen family member in peace without politely accepting blame from a grieving blood relative.
Caught in a mental hydraulic full of despair and anger, Bella hadn't realized she was rocking, arms clutching her knees tightly to her chest on the floor of the grimy tub. She whimpered quietly, attempting to hold in a guttural sob that repeatedly fought to be released. Nausea rolled through her abdomen. She could taste bitter saliva on her tongue, the same kind that overwhelmed her senses in the presence of blood. However; this time, the saliva acted as an aide and warning when she suddenly emptied the contents of her stomach into the drain. Pink water floated around her legs. Her sobs came freely now.
Jasper returned to a dark living room around two in the morning. Exhaustion and worry colored his eyes, but they were no match for Bella's somber expression. He pulled a record out of a sleeve resting on the TV stand, placed it on the turntable, and hit play. Loaded, by The Velvet Underground filled small the apartment. Who Loves The Sun, had been one of Bella's first musical obsessions. Sadly, she felt nothing upon hearing the bright melody. She menacingly grinned during the first chorus, realizing that she, a vampire, definitely could not love the sun any longer.
Jasper exhaled as his body hit the couch, Bella flinched as his blood assaulted her senses. She appreciated the darkness of the room now, unable to see the bluish veins spiderwebbing under the pale skin of his neck.
"Have a good walk?" he groaned.
"What?" Bella whispered in reply, holding her breath. "Oh yeah, it was fine. Uneventful." The lies would surely catch up with her.
"Alice will be here soon."
Bella blanched, if it even was possible for her complexion to become any paler. Another human in the apartment was the last thing she would be able to handle.
"Who's Alice?"
"The girl I've been seeing for two months? You've been under a depression rock, Swan." He sat in silence for a moment. "She's excited to meet you, though. She's spirited and likes pop music. Please, please, please be accommodating," he jokingly pleaded. "And don't say anything about her cold hands. Some hereditary circulation disease, I guess her brother has it too."
The name Alice held a certain familiarity with Bella, but she'd definitely been too caught up in her own drama all week to recall a specific relation. She dog-eared the thought in her head and dropped it for the time being. "Got it. Alice. Accommodating. Pop music," she scoffed, the first hint of humor Jasper had seen in days.
"She likes your band too, Bells. She even went to the show at House of Dirt. I didn't even have to ask her," Jasper smiled as a soft knock on the front door caused Bella to jump. She'd heard the sound of shoes on the staircase sixty seconds ago, the presence of the visitor hadn't alarmed her. What truly piqued her interest was the lack of steady heartbeat from behind the wooden door. "That's Alice."
A well dressed, waiflike young woman with pale skin and short black hair bounced into the room, planting a small kiss on Jasper's ready lips. With an outstretched palm and a friendly smile on her face, she turned to Bella.
"Hello, Bella," she chimed.
Bella searched her nearly infallible brain for the reason why this woman seemed familiar at first glance. She hadn't met her at the show or in the days following. Her polished movements and mannerisms reminded her of a certain Vampire, but certainly this wasn't Edward's sister. The only quality they shared was a sickly complexion.
"Bella?" Jasper prodded when she remained silent a minute longer than he was comfortable allowing.
She inhaled sharply, successfully ignoring Jasper's rapid heart rate and stood to shake Alice's fragile looking hand. Upon palm-to-palm contact Bella's vision was replaced with another sort of picture; like a glimpse into an alternate universe or, quite possibly, the future. A rocky creek ran through tall weeping willows strung with garlands of white flowers and fairy lights, an intimate gathering of familiar faces stood in a clearing celebrating two lovers dressed in elegant black and white formalwear. Upon closer inspection, Bella recognized the lovers as herself and Edward embracing while an adoring Alice and Jasper looked on.
Bella snapped her conscious back into Jasper's living room when she realized his skin was white and his light blue eyes were a devastating black in this vision. She ripped her palm from Jasper's undead girlfriend and recoiled. "Dont you fucking touch him, leech," Bella hissed.
Alice's eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm so sorry, Bella. We're going to be fast friends, trust me," she whispered, low enough that Jasper was still hyper-fixated on Bella's strange outburst. Alice's reassurances did nothing to calm Bella's fiery demeanor and before Jasper could come to his lady's aide, Bella was sprinting out the front door sans socks or shoes.