Chapter Twelve:
"And It's Hard to Breathe with A Devil At Your Throat"
(Chapter Songs: Waking the Witch by Kate Bush & KYRH by Hayley Williams)
In the next blink, Cyan found herself no longer among the pristine lined bookshelves of the Cullen House. Instead, she laid lying supine in a seemingly endless watery void instead. Surrounded on all four sides by a deep ominous-looking black, only broken above by a beautiful splattering of constellations. Anyone else would be oddly mesmerize and confused at finding themselves in such a surreal environment. However, her lips simply turned downwards in a deep grimace. Tongue clicking aloud in annoyance; even though her arrival to this in-between place was of her own doing.
Because it had long lost its' wonder after unfortunately being there a few times before.
She slowly lifted her upper half, giving a subconscious rub to her throat. Groaning at the unpleasant sensation from her soaking backside; the unfortunate result of laying shallow water. She didn't bother glancing around, aware there'd be nothing of substance to discover there.
So, her dark gaze peered forward, knowing whom would be waiting ahead as always.
There, in the not too-far distance, floated the only light amongst this neverending darkness even—
Charon, dutiful Ferryman of the Dead.
Wait.. As she stared at the immortal being whom appeared composed of the very wood of the boat they ferried, a heavy curtain of dreadful realization cover her. Am I actually dead? For real this time? Her cold hands frantically searched all her available pockets then, almost hyperventilating each time her hands didn't come free with something. If empty-handed, it meant she would be forever be stuck wading in Limbo. Brown eyes burning with unshed tears as despair reared its ugly head, she reached into the very last pocket—the inner left one inside her parka—before trembling fingers grasped and finally pulled free a lone gold drachma.
Shoulders slumping, she shakily sighed in relief, tucking it back in.
It meant she still had another chance at returning to living. Someone on the Other Side had given up on her.
Charlie..
No, Edward. Maybe?
If her body temperature wasn't below freezing, she knew her cheeks would've been burning at not only the very unexpected aspect but the unabashed hopefulness swelling in the center of her chest which followed.
Well, whoever it is.. She carefully stood then with the wobbly first steps of a newborn deer; her legs seeming consistent of jelly noodles. Don't give up on me just yet! Once capable of walking without stumbling each step,
Cyan gave a quick timid wave to Charon, and as she'd done the previous time before, began to walk in the opposite direction.
For awhile, she simply shuffled in ankle-deep 'water'. Making sure to never glance back, to never look too long or touch any of the lost spectral wading as well. Not that she would discover some departed loved one there anyway..
Been there, done that. She noted somberly.
It was a peaceful but ever-unsettling walk..until the incorporeal voices appeared.
Here she is again.
Tempted the Fates again, she did.
Silly girl.
Stupid girl.
When. Will. You. Learn?
Oh shut up, will ya'! She told, only to wince in semi-regret when the collected gasps in different ranges of tones assaulted her sensitive ears.
Ever the rude child!
Defiant as always, she is!
How naive!
How foolish!
When. Will. You. Learn?
Cyan tried walked faster, displeased even more so when the 'water' rose to waist-level now and prevented her. Not wanting accidentally to lose the coin beneath, she quickly placed it in her mouth for save keeping.
They always made the journey to the Other Side insufferable with their consistent parroting. But she soldiered through. But after what felt like hours gone by, that worried part of her couldn't help but wondered would she truly find it—the Veil of Mist leading out of the Underworld—again that time?
Maybe not?
Maybe so?
Who knows?
The Gods know.
When. Will. You. Learn?
Dark browns rolled. Of course the Gods would know. They were the ones who put her in this forsaken place. And yet each time, she always eventually found a way out once doubt trickled in.
Was only a matter of when and how long? She could either walk for hours on end or just a few seconds.
She just needed to be patient.
So declares the impatient little girl!
Who must always have her way.
No matter who nor what
She curses along the way.
When. Will. You. Learn?
She paused, about to tell the disembodied voices off once more. But they continued; their next words seizing her heart.
You can't save him.
Edward, poor Edward.
He's damned, says so himself.
He'll fall at your feet.
When. Will. You. Learn?
This was new. The voices never mentioned people in her life.
Cyan didn't like it.
Not one bit.
Just as your father.
For those who enter your life.
All come to die.
It's only a matter of time.
When. Will. You. Learn?
Forgoing walking, she swam through the viscous liquid. Wishing she could also cover her ears and shut her eyes like the insolent child she always was told she was.
Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up! She cried, begged, and screamed;
But still they tormented her.
Black are your fingertips.
Poison down to your finger bones.
Ill is the blood coursing through the veins.
The Golden Thread wrapped tight around your throat!
Suddenly mist slowly rolled in. Looking ahead, she saw the thick wall she longed for!
Giving a happy grunt, she swam faster.
But her eagerness seemed to anger the voices. For no longer were they bodiless. Bloated grayish hands risen from deep below the 'water' and began grabbing her violently all around. Scratching at clothes and flesh, desperate to disrupt her hurried strokes towards freedom and drag her under. Taking hold on her legs as she tried to kick herself free but she was—
Sinking..
Sinking..
Sinking slowly into the watery grave.
No, no, no! Please!
She was so close.
Quickly removing the drachma from the confines of her mouth, Cyan clenched in a tight fist—
WHEN WILL YOU LEARN?!
OH, WHEN WILL YOU LEARN!
YOU KNEEL ALREADY AT HADES' THRONE!
And thrust it towards the mist in a last desperate act of effort and defiance..before forced completely underneath.
Cold.
She was cold.
Oh, so cold.
Yet why did she feel so safe?
Felt wrapped almost in strong, embracing arms.
With the faint, minuscule touch of lips atop her crown.
Was this what Death was truly like?
So bizarrely loving?
Was this what she had been foolishly running from?
Was this what her father perhaps felt too?
If so, she didn't mind it so much anymore.
Dare say welcomed it even.
For this feeling was divine.
Burrowing herself closer with a soft sigh to get lost in it, to join them..
And yet, at long last, found herself fulfilling her earlier wish.
To run and leap unabashedly through the trees and their mossy undergrowth.
Questions of how or why didn't matter in that moment as she became addicted to the sensation of her bare feet connecting with Mother Earth with each quick step. And to the delicious burn in her cheeks from the natural joyful smile which split across her face; an experience she hadn't genuinely felt in years. Loving the sight of the linen dyed a beautiful rich teal color that draped over her body as it slightly billowed behind her along with her hair, releasing a giddy laugh when it softly caressed her legs every so often.
Ran and ran, she did. The forest oddly but wonderfully endless, with no destination in mind. The passage of time not even an afterthought for her as either fatigue nor hunger troubled her. Occasionally taking note when the golden sun's beams eventually vanished to be replaced by the sliver gleaming of the full moon.
The unwelcome night turning the once lovely bright greenery a shade darker, causing unease to gently creep and seep across her gradually cooling flesh.
Until she suddenly found herself no longer alone.
One by one, in an arrange of distinct different colored fur, wolves joined her side. Until it was a pack of eight that ran strongly and freely around, banishing the negative emotion before it could even began to take a hold.
Safe again, she now felt with all of them near.
But there were two, she took instant notice, who synced their gallop perfectly with her steady sprint— one, a russet-brown and the other, light gray. Giving her the notion that they were an extension of herself; her closest protectors.
Ran and ran, they did, howling happily at the moon.
But, bit by bit, step by step..
Restlessness tickled her heart.
For the first time since finding herself mysteriously delivered into the woods, she felt the desire to search.
For what? Remained unfortunately unknown as she keep moving.
And she loathed it with each passing second.
The emotion seemingly pouring from her pores in invisible waves and into her company as they too felt the same.
And just when it was becoming too much, making her want to mournfully wail in despair, a melodious humming filled the quiet air.
Ears eagerly perked, her once carefree trot, shifted to desperation to find the source.
Unaware, that the closer she got, the wolves disappeared one by one until only her worried protectors were left.
Until for the first time, her restive feet skidded to a halt..
Before a bowed man.
Draped in linen, much like herself, except the color resembled unburnt charcoal. Graced with the most striking alabaster skin. The unnatural tone seeming even more prominent when placed together with the strands of copper which sprouted from atop his head. Meticulously woven into an elegant braid that fell over one broadly tapered shoulder.
The sinewy arm connected to it was extended towards her.
And in his cupped hand sat the offering of an exposed pomegranate.
Dark browns stared, ignoring the warning growls of her wolves as their mouths filled with bundles of pooling teal, watching in a trance as the dark red liquid slowly drip and crawl sensually along his offering fingers.
Suddenly, she was parched, famished.
Desperate for a taste of beckoning bittersweet juice.
Running forward once more, in a blur of once gorgeous but now torn fabric as a symphony of mournful howls followed. Kneeling carelessly in front of the silent stranger before her quivering tongue lapped and dragged, collecting the delectable essence with zealous deplorable worship.
Once every drop was gone, she slowly peered heavenwards and was met by a beautiful sea of warm gold.
Cyan returned to the world of the living curled on her side, groggy with the small remnant of the dream in the back of her mind.
With her throat burning painfully..and strangely perched.
Letting out a pitiful whimper, a pale hand appeared with a tall glass cup. "Here, drink." requested a soothing voice. One she heard briefly before but her head was still too hazy to push past primitive basic thoughts. Actually, most of her other senses seemed muddled too.
Did she have a fever? The flu? How odd. She rarely, almost never got sick.
When stuck in her head for too long to act, the cool glass was gently pressed against her bottom lip, coaxing her to take a sip of the liquid waiting inside.
She silently obeyed, drinking slow measured gulps as hurriedly advised. The room-temperature liquid was heaven to her poor aching throat. So good, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment when hearing the involuntary moan that slipped free due to it. Once supposedly deemed enough, the glass was removed much to her reluctant. She gave a childish little huff which caused the other person to chuckle softly. They then finally knelt to her eye level, revealing who her caretaker was.
Dr. Carlisle's handsome face filled her vision; ever calm with a cordial smile. Though, a small tightness of concern was tucked at the corners of his gentle eyes.
"How are you feeling, my dear?"
Her tongue ran along her chapped lips, catching leftover droplets before answering hoarsely, "Shitty, but better than before..I guess?" He nodded, confirming the improvement in whatever currently ailed her.
"What do you remember? Tell me anything that comes to mind."
"Uh..my name's Cyan. Charlie Swan's my uncle and chief of police. You're Dr. Cullen," She gave a sly smirk, "Or Dr. Hottie as my friend Jessica loves to call you." A sudden booming laughter sounded from somewhere behind where she laid; making her flinch and Carlisle shake his head, lips twitching to fight off laughing himself.
Dark browns eyed the doctor warily. "Geez, you own a laughing bear or something?"
"Or something like that." he teased with a knowing smirk. Her lips parted to give a teasing jab herself when a new voice, caked in distraught, joined them.
"..Cyan." Two pairs of different colored eyes looked to the left. Standing at the other end of the white couch the girl laid on, was Edward.
And the current sight of him caused her heart to almost stop. In that heavy moment, no longer stood the brooding Grecian statue who found her in the pouring rain days ago. Instead was the semi-opposite version; the aftermath of the marble masterpiece once the passage of time and nature wore them down. He looked haunted—more so than usual—with his once-golden eyes now blacken. Making the dark circles under his eyes seem more pronounced. His disheveled hair no longer seemed purposeful, but genuine as if he'd ran and grasped his fingers in the auburn locks repeatedly in concern. The black t-shirt and sweatpants he wore was beyond wrinkled and would need a real good ironing to even them all out. But the thing her silly, partially delirious mind found even more startling was the sight of his bare feet!
What the hell had caused such a drastic change in appearance?
You did.
And then everything came rushing in.
Causing the most raw and guttural sounds to escape as all her suppressed emotions consumed her. Her sobs sounded inhuman and more like a wounded animal..which in a way she was just that. Choking her alongside the raising bile as the disgust and shame towards herself and what she'd done became too much. Barely registering Carlisle voice coaching her to breathe. But Cyan couldn't even if she truly tried. Her chest felt like it would cave in. Drumming heart almost seized in an invisible tight grip as her vision tunneled and gradually darken.
Just before the darkness returned again, she swore she came face to face with the winged scaly creature bringing her true death.
All sharp teeth and serpents for hair.
As She turned her latest victim to stone.
The monster's name stuck on the tip of her horrified tongue—
"Μια Ερινύες έχει την καρδιά μου! Η ψυχή μου!"
The sun had long since fallen pass the trees circling their secluded property.
And Edward was alone in their large grand home. Well, he shouldn't say he was..when the weak vessel of the girl he'd come to know sat in his lap, curled protectively in his arms and pressed against his cold chest. Carlisle had ushered the rest of the family out to feed and then spend the night in the cabin built not too far away. For it was too dangerous for all of them to be there. When he and his Beast were feral, possibly on the brink of mourning—
No.
She was alive, no matter how chilled her peachy skin resembled his own.
She was breathing, faint as it was. But there nonetheless, as it weakly stirred the hairs on his arm now and again.
Cyan was still in there, sleeping.
He just needed to bring her out.
Wake up. The vampire gently nudged her paling cheek with his nose with a doleful whine. Wake up please. Minuscule nips given from his teeth along her jaw and down the side of her neck; just enough pressure to stir her and not inflict pain. Wake up now. Frustrated his gentle coaxing failed again, the flat of his tongue licked feverishly along the faint pulse. Fangs elongating and venom drooling down his chin; their discomfort forcing his mouth to open wide.
Or I'll make you!
'Edward.'
Black wild eyes snapped up, finding his coven leader warily standing near the wall by the living room entrance. Having his attention, Carlisle took a bold step. His 'first born' growled viciously in warning, pulling the slumbering Cyan even closer to himself. He listened, moving further back with placating hands out in front of him. He hadn't expected the boy to be that far gone into his Beast.
It's as if..he sees her as his mate. With that thought, he would have to be extra careful with his approach or else he feared the younger vampire might forget his strength next time. Or worse..
A mild smile touched his lips, asking. "How is she?"
Edward's features twisted in pain; his voice broken and sounding much like a scared child. "She refuses to wake up!"
"Is she breathing?"
He gave a moment of hesitation. "..Yes."
Carlisle's smile grew encouraging. "Then she lives yet! The poor thing's probably just tuckered out." he noted, "But I doubt she can sleep well while in the position she is. And cold without the protection of a blanket against your skin." Edward glanced down. Sure enough, Cyan's fragile body shivered ever so slightly. His tight hold on her at last loosen as he, with all the tender care in the world, laid her more comfortably along their couch cushions. Then gone and back before she finished her next exhale with the old quilt he keep in memory of his mother, draping over and tucking beneath her.
And his thoughtfulness was handsomely rewarded by the once unresponsive girl burrowing her face into the wool fabric and sighing contently. Expecting him to be struck by guilt at the reason of her discomfort, Edward perched himself on the floor beside her form, smiling in reprieve as he quietly gazed. All the while humming low an unknown melody.
The eldest vampire mimicked the other, taking up his own spot a safe distance away from the children. Watching stunned as another realization materialized—one he, himself longed for the boy to find and almost dared given up hope for—
My god, the boy's finally discovered love. Yet Carlisle couldn't help but frown deeply. And I fear he'll lose it all too soon.. Because of the frightful words Cyan deliriously cried before fainting.
Something troubling in them that latched onto his mind,
"An Erinys has my heart! My soul!"
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