Chapter Five
Piledriver Waltz
Bella's bare feet were more or less the same temperature as Seattle's public sidewalks, a fact that barely registered with her as she stormed a path of fury anywhere but Jasper's apartment. An apartment that currently needed treatment for a nasty vampire infestation. The streets began to clear of the bar crowd as the blustery winds of October in the Pacific Northwest tore through the University District. Thunder and rain mimicked Bella's inner turmoil so precisely, she felt as though her disposition dictated Mother Nature's grand design.
As Bella reached the border of her neighborhood, her footfalls came slower, she listened to the familiar noises in her tiny pocket of the city until she'd come to a standstill in a long abandoned alleyway. The sound of a Bic lighter flicking to life several times, followed by a rhythmic tapping of hollow plastic peaked her interest. Immediately the silence of a needle meeting bare skin and the subsequent fruity aroma of a single blood droplet pulled her gaze upwards, as if she'd been commanded by God himself.
Before Bella could halt her actions, she was skillfully scaling the brick, ivy laden wall of the multi-dwelling to her right. She cautiously proceeded with her hunt by tiptoeing onto the balconette that belonged to her victim, narrowly avoiding tens of deceased potted plants. Only one heartbeat could be heard inside, Bella grinned, feeling a pang of anticipation in her upper jaw.
Her right hand twisted the knob, finding the door to be unlocked, she slowly pushed it inward. Following the sound of the sluggish heartbeat, she looked to her right and found a young woman laying on her back, sunken eyes closed, with a small needle hanging from her left arm. Bella quickly pounced, she'd stolen over half of the young woman's poisoned blood before she could exhale the initial breath she'd taken in the alleyway.
Bella hadn't noticed much about her first kill, it was break-neck and urgent, no pun intended. She'd only registered the decadent taste of blood filling her with pseudo love and contentment. Her second kill almost played back as if filmed on a high-speed camera, there wasn't a single detail her vampire brain missed. The ache is her jaw disappeared, the burning in her throat seemed to have never existed. Hot, sticky ambrosia flowed through her body, creating the best high she'd ever felt to date. Bella prayed it would never end.
Minutes later, when Bella was satisfied not an ounce of blood remained, she rolled off the girl and onto her dirty mattress. Beginning to feel sluggish from the heroin spiked blood, she laid in silence. Not quite 'heroin nods' high, but certainly the sleepiest she'd felt since her transformation into a murderous member of the undead, Bella's racing thoughts drifted.
Staring around the woman's patchouli soaked studio apartment with heavy eyelids, Bella began to muse that perhaps this had all been some sort of psychosis, or a dream. Not a single soul that she personally knew before Friday's show had knowledge of the supernatural soap opera -slash- homocide detective program Bella's life had become. Maybe she'd imagined Edward, like she'd imagined Jacob. Or imagined her great strength and speed. Or her desperate need to feed on mortal blood every second of every day. Maybe Alice was a totally normal human woman with a genetic condition that caused poor circulation and the misfortunate circumstance of crossing paths with Isabella Maria Deranged, (née Swan).
Her eyes continued to sweep over every inch of the young woman's room with vague interest. Dirty clothing littered the floor, old sheets acted as curtains, half burned candles cluttered every available surface. Bella recognized this place, it was her room. At least, it resembled every room she'd ever lived in the past five years as an early twenties traveling musician. Down to the moldy take out boxes balanced atop the overflowing garbage can. Their similarities went beyond kitschy decor, however. Neither young woman had a future to look forward to. Bella had stolen them both. Her stomach knotted in anguish.
A booming knock on the door shook Bella from her mental soliloquy. She bolted upright off the bed and anxiously faced the door. Unsure as to why her recently agile mind and body couldn't produce either fight or flight, she resigned to stand frozen in fear, hoping that the visitor was not in possession of a key to this particular studio. If they did; however, hold the key, Bella was primed for arrest or death, whichever came first. There was no doubt she deserved every single ounce of retribution about to be unleashed by this unwelcome visitor.
Unfortunately, she could feel 'flight' creeping into the edges of her subconscious. The determined jingling of keys, followed by another swift knock caused Bella to slowly back away from the front door until her heels met the edge of the balconette. Suddenly, Edward was beside her, a firm hand positioned on her lower back. Certainly a welcome visitor now that Bella had established he'd been a inane figment of her imagination the entire time.
"Bella, jump with me," he whispered, gesturing to the litter covered pavement four stories below. Bella agreed inaudibly, fully embracing the voices in her mind's eye telling her to end this miserable half life she'd fallen victim to. Edward gently closed the small french doors behind them and took one big, graceful stride off the metal platform. Bella followed one step behind with minor hesitation.
Bella always new that jumping from a building would be quick and painless, or at least quick enough that pain wouldn't have a chance to register throughout her body, but she wasn't sure medical examiners classified landing on your feet in a perfectly unharmed state, a suicide. Her jaw began to quiver violently whilst her pleading brown eyes met Edwards, begging for compassion and the answers she was in desperate need of.
"Would you like to clean up at my place?" Edward asked, his deep green eyes full of concern and the smallest sliver of warmth for his unraveling companion. Comprehending that she couldn't simply waltz into Jasper's apartment covered in junkie blood, Bella opted to accept Edward on his offer on one condition;
"P-Please," she stuttered in between stifled sobs. "Help me."
Edward chose to carry his grieving and barefoot houseguest the single mile to his gambrel roofed home in ritzy Laurelhurst. Precisely aware that Bella was in fact, an invincible vampire, and not a fragile human; Edward still felt it the proper gentlemanly thing to do. Not to mention, his transformation had afforded him unnatural speed, even by average vampire standards.
Bella felt the rain ease off her back as Edward unlocked the back door to his dwelling. Finally daring to peer up from the crook of Edward's neck, it took no time at all for her eyes to adjust. The dimly lit room surrounding her was cozy and elegantly decorated with leather couches, vintage hurricane lamps, and more books than Bella had ever seen outside of a public library. The hardwood floors were covered in haphazardly thrown oriental rugs, though admittedly, the rugs seemed to be curated in a purposely chaotic fashion. At Bella's feet she noticed a small cobblestone fireplace built into a shallow set alcove. More books sat perched on either side of lightly used hearth accessories, while family photos graced the wooden mantle. The entire grounds smelled of baking spice, a scent she'd come to associate Edward.
"My father had this home built for me in nineteen-twenty two as a birthday present," Edward whispered, flipping the switch to ignite the gas fireplace. "I've added a few creature comforts since then."
"I'm sorry if it's rude to ask," Bella began in a heartbreakingly small voice, "But last time we talked you mentioned you'd been changed in Chicago that year?"
Edward grinned, she'd been listening to him. "I should've said my adoptive father, Carlisle. My sire."
"You've stayed with your vampire sire all these years?" Bella gasped, using the proper idiom for the first time without shying away from her newly acquired supernatural heritage.
"I've strayed from Carlisle in the past, but the man will always be my father. He was a doctor before his change, now he volunteers his training and aid to those in need. As does his wife, Esme. They both raised me through immortal adolescence," Edward smiled again. "Although, I'm not sure if i've completely outgrown those tendencies."
"Is that what you'll be to me? A father figure?" Bella felt uncomfortable asking the nature of their blossoming alliance.
Edward pondered her question for a drawn out minute. "I'd like very much to be your friend, Bella Swan," he smiled, it barely touched his eyes.
The two wary vampires sat in silence for nearly an hour before Bella decided to continue their initial rooftop inquiry. "What did Alice show me back in Jasper's apartment," she asked, vividly recalling her nuptials to Edward.
Edward blanched. "It was entirely inappropriate, Bella. I'm deeply sorry. She had no right to influence you in such a way."
Bella felt her cheeks flush with the blood of her latest victim. What if Edward had a wife already? What if he was repulsed by the mere thought of spending a lifetime with someone like her? Bella's eyes floated to the mantle once more, landing on a black and white framed photo of Edward's family posed around a chaise lounge. Presumedly, his adoptive parents were standing in the back, while Edward shared the lounge with a lovely blonde woman. Their posture was casual; however, she couldn't imagine many photographs from that era allowed displays of affection.
"Was it a vision of the future?"
"Yes and no. Alice has the unique ability to see many possible outcomes for our actions," Edward sighed.
"Did she see what happened to me last Friday?" Bella muttered, eyes locked on Edwards family photos.
"She did not," he sighed once more. "We both believed that I had left you for dead, a deed that will haunt me until I die."
"Thanks for not killing me, I guess," Bella laughed, hoping to lighten the somber mood that had settled into the room. Edwards lips turned into a sinister grin, the shadows from the fireplace causing him to look like a storybook vampire for once. "Can you tell me more about your kind?"
"Our kind," he corrected. "What would you like to know?"
"Can you turn into a bat? Will my hair look like this forever? I don't know, dude. Just give me 'Undead: 101'," she patted the carpet next to her, hoping Edward would accept the invitation.
"No bat stuff," he smiled, sliding to the floor from the brown leather love seat opposite the fireplace. "Your hair will grow very little, though cutting it requires diamond shears or something industrial strength. I haven't bothered," he said, gesturing to his unkempt mane.
"You've more than likely noticed a strong aversion to mortal food, we only survive on blood. Animal or human, it's your preference. I tend to enjoy both in moderation to keep my carbon footprint low," Edward's smirked at his joke, though it fell on deaf ears. "What else?"
Bella considered opening the floodgates. The thought of bombarding Edward with every question that passed through her head was appealing, though she had years of endless days to unravel the mysteries of her sire. She opted to stick with biology.
"I've, um, fed twice," she blushed again. "How exactly does that whole process work? And what happens if I accidentally turn someone, well, like us?"
Edward paused, hoping to find an eloquent explanation for the horrific dining habits of vampires. Deciding the words simply didn't exist, he opted to show his new vampire houseguest what she'd surely experienced twice already. Edward tilted his head to the side, moving closer to Bella with baited breath. "When a vampire chooses his pray a few things happen, Bella." He inhaled slowly, taunting his feral nature to rear its ugly head.
"Like what," Bella said, her own breath faltering at his close proximity.
"See for yourself," he hissed.
Bella's head whipped in the direction of Edward's looming frame. His once green eyes were dark as pitch, a black hole she could only recall from a feeble human memory. She gasped while gazing at his snarling lips. His perfectly white teeth were barred, set to latch onto the pale skin of her neck. What Bella realized next caused fear to manifest in the pit of her stomach; Edward had fangs. Small ones, barely noticeable to the human eye, but without question his canines had grown into two razor sharp points that were poised inches from her face.
"Is that what I look like," she whimpered, her gaze never faltered from Edwards teeth as he backed away.
"I like to think you wear them better," he laughed, his voice low and sultry. "Think of them like arousal, they'll only appear when you want to bite someone."
"Do you want to bite me?" Bella asked, examining his unaltered appearance despite the distance Edward had put between them.
"Isn't that how we ended up in this mess?" he uttered, only a touch of humor coloring his tone.