Disclaimer: The Twilight series is the creative property of Stephenie Meyer. I do not own any of the characters. Any references or quotes from Meyer do not belong to me. This is a fan-based story. The basis of this comes from Rosalie's story in Eclipse. It is not my intention to plagiarize. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: Thank you again to everyone for reviewing! I hope you enjoy
Chapter 4. Reviews are so appreciated and helpful to me.
Soundtrack for chapter: "Let Me Fall" by Josh Groban, "Die Die My Darling" by Metallica, and "Getting Away With Murder" by Papa Roach
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If I must die, I will encounter death as a bride, and hug it in mine arms."
- William Shakespeare
No more tears now; I will think about revenge.
-Mary, Queen of Scots
Rosalie leapt easily from the third-story window, the wind rushing by her as she fell towards the ground. She landed noiselessly. The muffled screams of the dying man she left behind her echoed strangely in her ears making the nighttime around her seem very still and silent in comparison.
A familiar scent made her growl and freeze. She did not turn. "What are you doing here, Edward?"
Edward stepped out of the alley's shadows, his arms folded over his chest, eyes dark.
"Are you spying on me?" she hissed, crouching slightly lower and baring her teeth.
"Something like that," he said, not moving.
Rosalie straightened to her full height and tossed her long blond hair which flowed freely down her back. She turned to walk away. "Well, you're wasting your time. It's done. All four of them."
"You haven't found him, yet, have you?"
Rosalie didn't answer but walked faster.
"It won't take away the pain, Rosalie."
She put her head down and gained in speed.
"Rosalie!"
She spun back to face him, "Don't you think I know that? If you think for one minute that this…this…burning, this ache will ever go away, then you don't really know what I suffer, at all."
Edward took a step towards her, "This will hurt you more."
"Impossible," she whispered, backing away from him.
Edward shook his head, "Taking a human life…it won't help."
"But it will hurt," Rosalie told him, with grim satisfaction.
"This is not what Carlisle saved you for. You're risking our family's safety!" He moved closer to her.
"Go away, Edward!"
"You'll leave us vulnerable to discovery." He reached out a hand for her.
"I don't care!" she screeched, pushing him, hard. Edward flew back and hit the building wall. Several bricks made a crumbling sound as they fell.
Suddenly Rosalie felt herself being thrown into the opposite wall. Edward's hands were planted roughly on her shoulders as he pinned her firmly against the brick and mortar. "Listen to me. You've done enough. Come home with me. Think of Esme, Carlisle…" His voice was pleading. "I know what it is to turn my back on my family. Don't make the same mistake."
Rosalie was shaking, her entire body pulsing with rage, "Get your hands off me."
"Rosalie, I'm begging you," Edward tried again.
"Don't. Touch. Me." She planted one foot against his chest and shoved. Edward stumbled back for a moment.
She turned to run but he grabbed her arm as she did.
"Rosalie, wait."
She looked back at him, her black eyes wild with pain.
Edward stared at her for a moment, pursing his lips. He wore a conflicted expression. "At least let me help you," he said, finally.
"Why would you want to help me?"
"Because." And for the first time that night, his eyes held a trace of their usual humor. "Because, unfortunately, you are my sister."
Despite her anger, Rosalie felt a shock. Edward was annoyed by her. He found her to be frivolous, vain, irritating, petty. Why would he help her now?
"Carlisle changed you," Edward said, unwillingly. "He made you one of us. And Carlisle is my father in every way that matters. I am his son. I cannot reject you when he has taken you in."
"I don't need your help," Rosalie said, her voice softer. She felt oddly touched by his words, warmed slightly.
"What if I knew something that might?"
"Like what, for instance?"
"If I help you," Edward said slowly. "You must stop after Royce."
"What exactly do you know?"
"Promise me."
"I…I promise," she said, taken aback by the new edge in his voice.
Edward nodded, "I know where you can find Royce King."
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"It's nice to see the two of you getting along so well these days," Esme remarked cheerfully, iron pressing the blue cotton print curtains that she had sewn for the kitchen windows.
Rosalie looked up from the jigsaw puzzle she and Edward were piecing together, their heads bent close together over the long dining room table.
Edward rolled his eyes and fit another corner in place.
"Mmhmm," Rosalie murmured, glancing out the window again, willing the sun to set. It hung suspended just over the tree tops, as if it would never disappear from view but remain there, making her still chest squeeze and her muscles tense with anticipation. A few more minutes…maybe an hour…
Edward shot her a warning glance that reminded her to conceal her impatience from Esme and Carlisle.
"You know," Esme sighed, holding up the curtains to the light. "I really should have saved some of this fabric. It would have made a lovely dress. This blue would look so striking with Rosalie's hair, wouldn't it, Edward?"
Edward chuckled at Esme's ill-disguised attempt at matchmaking. "Yes," he grinned, elbowing Rosalie under the table. "Very striking."
She straightened and pulled her chair farther away from his. "Oh, never mind, Esme. Edward isn't all that observant, anyway."
"Yes, never mind, Esme," Edward said, smirking. "Rosalie doesn't notice anything that doesn't carry her own reflection."
"Now, now," Esme fretted. "Not when you were behaving so well just a moment ago!"
"It's a lovely evening," Carlisle commented, standing in the doorway. "Perhaps Edward and Rosalie would like to take a stroll."
This time the two younger vampires rolled their eyes simultaneously.
"Oh, that sounds wonderful," Esme said, clapping her hands.
Rosalie glanced out the window again. The sun had dipped completely behind the farthest pines.
Edward sighed and stood. "We won't be out late," he muttered, kissing Esme's cheek as he headed for the door.
"Oh, never mind that," Esme said, looking delighted. "You take as long as you like!"
Rosalie giggled, in spite of herself, and shaking her head, followed Edward from the room.
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"Are you sure he's here?" Rosalie stared up three stories to the large, dark window pane near the widow's walk.
Edward shook his head again, his eyes darting down the long, empty street. "I cannot believe you're wearing that."
Rosalie shook out the folds in the white satin skirt and glared at him, "I said, 'Are you sure he's—…"
"He's here," Edward said, unhappily, shoving his hands even deeper into the pockets of his trousers. "Rosalie…" he began and looked up at her.
Rosalie stood, looking up again at the towering building before her, blond hair flowing around her shoulders. The tight bodice of the wedding dress fell into long, soft free-falling fabric that trailed behind her.
Edward watched her slim, white figure, ghostly and frightening in the light of the street lamps, as she lifted the filmy, gossamer veil to rest at the crown of her golden head. She turned to face him expectantly, her pupils widening with anticipation, her full lips a furious red.
"Aren't you going to wish me luck?" she asked, sarcastically.
He frowned at her once and sighing, pulled the front of the lace veil down over her face. "Don't do this," he said, in one final attempt.
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the building, "Through the window?"
"At the end of the hall, take a right. The last room on the left. No windows on that side."
She nodded and leaping, caught the edge of the gutter.
"He will be guarded. At least two," Edward warned.
Rosalie heaved herself onto the narrow walkway and pushed against the window glass. She sighed and clenching her hand into a fist, punched through once. She ducked through the opening and disappeared from view.
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"Rosalie! Rosalie, where are you?" Mrs. Hale's voice floated across the lawn to where the little girl sat, under the sheltering branches of the large oak tree.
"I'm here, Mama!" she called, not moving.
Mrs. Hale came tripping over the grass, her soft lilac-colored skirts lifted slightly away from the ground. "Rosalie Lillian Hale, what are you doing?"
"Look what I found, Mama!" Rosalie said, dimples showing, as she lifted her cupped hands for her mother to see the large, fuzzy yellow and black insect perched vibrating against her thumb.
"Rosalie, put that down right now!"
"Why? He's so beautiful!"
"Rosalie, that bumblebee is going to sting you. Now drop him!"
"He won't sting me," the little girl said, her blue eyes wide with surprise. "He loves me."
Her mother sighed, "Rosalie, please. You can't keep a bee. Let him fly away."
Rosalie's tiny face scrunched in disappointment and then anger. Her lips curling in a pout, she closed her tiny baby fist around the bee. A sharp, needle-pricking pain shot through her hand and she opened her palm, gasping. The bee buzzed stormily away, jerking through the air in tiny, insect death throes.
"He…he bit me!" Rosalie looked shocked. Her lips quivered slightly as tears began to pool in her eyes and run swiftly down her rosy cheeks. "Mama?" She lifted her arms and Mrs. Hale scooped her up quickly.
"Mama, why did the bee sting me? I only wanted to keep him! It isn't fair!"
"He doesn't know any better. That's what bees do."
"I hate him," Rosalie said, venomously.
"I don't imagine he cares for you much either," her mother chuckled, stroking her daughter's blond locks. "But don't fret. The bee got what was coming to him. See, when a bee stings someone, his stinger falls out and he dies. So there is justice in the world, after all." She smiled, putting a cool hand over the small sting on Rosalie's palm.
Rosalie nodded in satisfaction at the thought. "Good. He hurt me."
Mrs. Hale's eyes were grave. "Be careful, darling. You must not wish misfortune on those who have wronged you. Judgment is in the hands of God."
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Tonight judgment would be in her hands, Rosalie thought, walking silently down the long hall. Her white train dragged behind her, bits of broken glass from the window trailing with it.
Behind the doors she passed, she could hear lungs opening and closing with deep, even breaths, could smell the sweet, hot scent of blood pumping through veins and arteries and pounding hearts. But she was not interested in any of these sleeping people. As she rounded the corner, the heartbeats she heard quickened, the breathing became erratic. There, against the door, a man sat, his eyes darting towards the noise and catching sight of her in the gloom. He stood, his hands shaking as he reached for something in his vest pocket. A pistol, probably. Rosalie smiled coldly and reaching hands out, snapped his neck easily, quickly. He did not have time to feel it, to register death's fingers as they claimed him.
She reached for the heavy door handle. Locked. Expressionless, she flicked her wrist once. The handle fell off and the door flew open.
A large, windowless bedroom lay before her. The room was decorated in the height of fashion. Beautifully painted paper lined the walls. Polished mahogany wood baseboards matched the exquisite furnishings. Rich, plush with heavy frames. On the floor was an enormous bear skin rug.
There was a terrified shriek as she turned to stare at Royce King, sitting in the middle of the giant bed, his back pressed against the carved headboard, his striped robe wound tightly around his shivering body.
Rosalie smiled angelically, the very picture of a bride. "Hello, Royce."
Royce's eyes were wide with fear and his voice shook when he spoke. "Who…who are you?" he demanded, his voice higher than she remembered. "And what are you doing in my room?"
"Aren't you happy to see me, Royce?" Rosalie asked, her voice dangerously warm. She walked forward a step.
A body guard who had been snoozing on the couch now stood and fumbled with his gun.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she smiled at him.
The guard swallowed hard as he stared back and forth between his employer and the beautiful intruder.
"What are you waiting for?" Royce asked, gritting his teeth. "Shoot her!"
There was a loud bang as the pistol erupted. There was a strange shredding sound as the small metal bullet hit Rosalie's hard skin and shattered, landing in a pile of dust at her feet.
"These days I seem to be a little less…fragile," Rosalie said, lifting the veil over her head.
The guard was already striding across the room, practically running for the door but Rosalie was beside him in an instant. Throwing him to the ground on his stomach, she put one foot at the base of his neck and pushed. There was a popping, crunching sound and then the man lay still.
Rosalie turned back to Royce, her beautiful red mouth curving into a sensual smile. "Alone, at last." She walked towards the edge of the bed, slowly, her eyes brimming with excitement.
Royce's expression was horrified.
She laughed softly, "You know, this is how I imagined our wedding night. Just the two of us in a beautiful bedroom. All alone."
She climbed easily over the baseboard and crawled across the bed until Royce was mere inches from her. "And I would have given myself to you," she whispered, her icy breath on his skin. "Just you."
Royce King was absolutely paralyzed with fear. He tried to swallow as he shook involuntarily, "You can't…be her. She's…she's dead."
Rosalie's smile faded, "You're right. Rosalie Hale is dead. Abused, ruined, dead. And when I am done with you, you are going to wish she wasn't. You will wish you had never touched her. You will plead and you will cry and you will suffer. You will beg for me to end your life." The red in her eyes had been entirely replaced by a fiery black color. "Because the pain I give to you tonight will be so much greater than any you could ever give to me."
Royce's face, ashen with terror, suddenly looked very small, very human. Rosalie felt a second of pity for the fate that awaited him. The next second, a deep, searing rage burned through her and any sympathy she felt was swept away in an instant.
She smiled again, glad that the tears inside of her would never fall. As her hands moved towards him and he screamed again, Rosalie clenched her teeth and let the darkness swallow them both.
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Author's Note: Thoughts? Review and let me know!