Whew took forever to update, sorry!

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Musings:

Infrared - Placebo

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Oh yeah, Charlie was good.

He had managed to plant a nice little seed of guilt in the back of my mind. The picture of his miserable face within the jail cell stayed with me as I exited the building, and continued to stay with me until I reached the hotel. I couldn't get it out of my head.

The image haunted my vision as I made my way up the stairs to my room in a numb state. I was battling with myself whether or not to ask for help, try and get help, or do absolutely nothing about it.

When I reached my room, I went inside and looked at myself in the mirror quickly then sat on the bed, falling against the pillows in a huff.

He deserves it, he deserves it, he deserves it!

It was the mantra I had created to help ease the guilt. It clearly wasn't working. Well of course I was going to feel guilt; I had just left my innocent father to die in jail! But how did I really know he was innocent? How was I supposed to just trust him after what he had just told me?

I couldn't shake the feeling. I just knew; I couldn't explain it, but Charlie was telling the truth. I could just feel it. I made up my mind: I was going to somehow get that money, and bail my father out. Afterwards, if he was still alive by the time I managed to gain that stifling amount of money, I would force him to repent, and change his ways. Or I would tell Mother everything.

I nodded my head as a feeling of dread washed over me and my face went pale. Oh God, the money. Getting my father out of jail was one thing, but the required 300,000 were another. How in Gods name was I going to acquire anything near that amount? It's not as if I had brought anything with me to Venice that I could sell. I couldn't raise the money either.

I snorted, oh yeah, that would be a good fundraiser, and I could see it already. 'Excuse me Sir? Yes, hello, the name's Isabella Sawn, and I was wondering if you would care to donate to a small cause. What's the cause you ask? The noble cause is me trying to get my lying, thieving father out of jail because I feel guilty'. They would walk away shaking there heads in disgust.

I threw a pillow against a near by wall in frustration. What was I going to do? Most of the plots running through my head at the moment where outrageous and unsanctioned; sure to make me the most gossiped about lady back home. No, I was defiantly not doing that.

I was absolutely positive that I was already being gossiped upon here in Venice already. The way I acted was unladylike, and I didn't have an escort.

The knock at my door was the sound that pulled me out of my reverie. I answered it, surprised to see the boy from yesterday that had helped me flag down the cab. "Hello" I tried to smile, but I'm sure it seemed fake and painted on. I wondered if he could feel the nervous atmosphere in my room.

"Hello Signorita, I'm sorry to bother you, but it seems there was a complaint involving one of the staff here. I hear she was being quite rude. To make up for it, we would like to offer you free dinner. I hope you enjoy" He seemed nervous as he told the explanation for the tray of food.

"Umm, thank you," I grabbed the tray of steaming food, "but I didn't say anything about the lady."

His brow furrowed, "Well, take the food anyways, and have a pleasant stay." He turned and ran hastily, as if I had a disease. I stared curiously after him, then shook my head and closed the door behind me using the heel of my foot.

These Italians where very strange indeed. Have a nice stay? I snorted; I highly doubted it with my current situation. I sat down on the bed and placed the tray in my lap. Thank god I didn't trip on my way to the chair beside the bed; I could just imagine the mess.

Underneath the plate was a newspaper. Good, something to take my mind off Charlie. I slid it out from underneath and began to read it. It was dated today. That was kind of them; to give me today's paper as well. I wonder how they learned about the snobby receptionist.

Humph.

I picked the tray of my lap and set it down on the desk, I would eat later. Unfolding the paper I noticed the title written in bold across the front, it immediately caught my attention:

Murder in the streets of Venice:

Is Edward Cullen here?

Edward Cullen? The name jolted my memory for a second. Where had I heard of him? I wracked my brain for any memory that would trigger, and then I finally remembered my trip. Oh yes! His name was on a wanted poster when I caught the second train on my trip here. I read on, intrigued.

Yesterday, residents of Venice, Italy, found the body of a young man in the Riviera Brenta late last night. Residents near-by where able to identify this man to be 20 year old Signore Tiziano Delinagra. In his passing he is leaving behind his wife, Signora Gratziella Delinagra, and their 5 sons. No bodily harm was seen on the young man, except for the two small puncture wounds on the sides of his neck. Police suspect notorious mass-murderer and thief Edward Cullen to be responsible. It is a well-known fact that all victims of murder committed by Edward Cullen will identify to have those two small puncture wounds, for it is his brand. Police suspect that he had traveled here from Spain. They suggest to all citizens to stay inside at night, for that is when Edward Cullen strikes.

Thief? He was a murder and a thief? That was horrible…all those innocent people, dead. I shook my head, shivering slightly, willing no tears to form in my eyes, when it hit me. Stealing? Theft?

Could I do it?

I could steal enough valuables and sell them until I had enough money to pay my father out of jail. Could I do it? Was I strong enough?

I could get into trouble, loads of trouble, enough to get me thrown in jail, along side my father. I would be no better then my father, or this Edward Cullen man. But what could I do? It was the only way. And I wasn't necessarily going to get thrown in jail. They had to catch me first. I'll I needed to do was learn how to steal, and I'd be set.

I'm not sure what it was that woke me up, but something did. I sat up in bed looking around my room for the source of my disturbance. Nothing seemed out of place as far as I could tell. I lay back down, turning onto my side and closing my eyes. I stayed there for quite sometime, how long, I didn't know. Finally in frustration I yanked myself out of bed and sat at the edge, rubbing my eyes. Why did I have to wake up?

There was no way I was going to be able to fall back asleep. I got up and flipped on the lamp, checking the time. 2:00 in the morning. Lovely. I got up and walked over to my wardrobe to get changed; might as well go for a walk outside. I grabbed my jacket, which was resting on a chair near the door. I reached for the door, but my hand pausing on the doorknob. Was it really safe to go outside for a walk, alone and by myself? What if something happened? I was in a foreign country, after all. I shook my head. What was I thinking? Who in their right mind would ever be up at 2:00am? Let alone someone who would hurt me. I opened the door and snorted; I had a wild imagination.

As I crept down the stairs, I suddenly remembered I was in Venice, and the only place I could walk was on the bridges that weaved over the canal below. It would be a short walk, but that would be ok. Hopefully it would get me tired enough to fall back asleep when I would return back to the hotel.

I slipped out the front door of the hotel, making sure to close it quietly, and started up the bridge. It was a beautiful night, one where you could see all the stars in the sky. I leaned against the railing of the bridge, my hands running over the ancient stone. I looked up to the sky, checking for all I the constellations I could name. I was at peace; the water of the canal lapping against the sides of building lulling me to sleep. I breathed in deep. I loved this city.

A man walked behind me, making me turn around quickly. How had I not noticed him before? His swagger gave away his condition at once: He was drunk.

Perfect, I thought.

"Ciao bello. Ed appena quanto lei costa?" The man leered at me. I took a step back. I had no clue what he was saying but his body language told me everything. This was NOT happening.

"Adesso, non è adesso come quella bellezza!" he reached out, trying to grab me, but he missed and went stumbling to the ground. I turned around and ran, fast. There was no way this man was going to get me.

He was right behind me as I ran. I was close to the bottom of the bridge, where I would hopefully be able to make my escape into the hotel. "Ritornare! Ho detto che ero finito con lei?" He yelled, his voice closer. With his footsteps directly behind me, I whipped around to face my attacker and stepped forwards.

I was surprised to hit right into the back of another man. Putting my hands out to stop me, I pushed off this new man and fell back, stumbling to the ground in the process.

From the ground I couldn't see what the tall man was doing. I heard the muffled scream from my attacker, the tall man bending over him. My attacker went limp, sliding to the ground. The other man put his hand to his face for a moment, and then turned around to face me.

I stared up at him in sheer terror. Sure, this man just saved my life, but he killed someone in the process as well. I looked up at him, he was young, I could tell that much. But I couldn't make him out; he was standing in the shadows of the bridge's pillars.

"Hello?" I asked timidly.

If I were smart, I thought, I would get up and run.

But I couldn't make myself move from my position on the ground, no matter how hard I tugged at myself. The man stepped out of the shadows. The moon reflected of the water and hit his face, illuminating it. He looked familiar, but I didn't know where I had seen him.

My gaze stopped at his eyes. They were red, blood red. My brain clicked then, and I started crawling backwards on my hands and feet, desperately trying to get away. I was too shocked to do anything else.

He moved closer. "Get away!" I screamed. Oh my God, I was going to die. I was going to die slowly on this bridge in Venice where my father awaited and expected my help. This man was going to kill me.

My back hit the wall of the building. Using it for support, I slowly made it to my feet, but ready to make a run for it if I had too. He just kept coming closer. "I'll scream! I'll scream and wake up the whole place! I swear I will!" I was rambling, why not though? I was going to die anyways.

He stopped in front of me and I could see his smile. "You wouldn't have the chance," he said simply. I was shocked. He wasn't even Italian. He didn't have an accent; instead it was a velvet voice. A voice that did not suit the actions of this man. It was a voice that made me breathless. My fear left me for a second. Where had I seen him…my breath caught.

"You're Edward Cullen…The thief, the…" murderer, I finished in my mind. My fear came bubbling back up. Nausea welled up from inside me and threatened to spill. I dodged to his left, desperately trying for a last means of escape. He grabbed me and flung me back against the wall, placing a hand on either side of my head. I gasped in surprise and tilted my head to the side, squeezing my eyes shut.

He growled low in his throat, causing me to re-open my eyes and look back up at him.

He stared down at me, his unnatural red eyes piercing. He was gorgeous; the pictures in the paper didn't do him justice. "Are you going to kill me?" I whispered, as if my voice would set him off. His eyes searched mine for a second; his head dipped closer to my neck. From the corner of my eye I saw him close his eyes and inhale. He leaned forwards towards my neck and breathed against it as I let out a small whimper.

When he heard the strangled noise come from my throat, all of his actions ceased. He stood back up straight and roughly pushed me aside.

With his eyes still closed, he spoke "If you don't tell anyone you've seen me, or what you've seen, you'll be fine. Now go." I took my chance and ran for the door of the hotel before a thought came to me.

Thief.

He was a thief. Could I do it? Was I crazy enough to go back? I turned. He was still there, facing me, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. I walked slowly back, stopping when I was directly in front of him. He opened his eyes and looked down at me curiously, but I thought I could see a hint of amusement brewing behind his eyes.

"Yes?" He stated. I edged over to the side a little, judging the distance to the hotel. It wasn't far, but I knew he could catch me anyways. I took a deep breath; I was scared out of my wits. But this was for my father, my innocent father; I had to do it.

He seemed to be battling an argument between himself. He looked pained at one moment, and then the next he would become still. He finally stopped moving, and breathing altogether before looking at my perplexed.

"I-I need your help…" I trailed of. Oh my god. What am I thinking? A look of disbelief crossed over his face, and his lip curled into a crooked grin of amusement. Crossing his arms in front of him, he leaned against the wall.

"Help?" he smiled, "From me?" he leaned a little forward, his head near the side of my face. I could feel his breath tickling the side of my face as he whispered in my ear "from the murderer?"

I took a step back in shock and looked up at his blood red eyes in disbelief. He was teasing me. This murderer was teasing me. He was probably seconds away from tearing my throat out and he was joking around as if he was my brother. It reassured me, surprisingly. I gained confidence.

I huffed out a breath of air, watching as his eyes seemed to grow darker by the minute, and his jaw clenching together more tightly. A haunted expression overcame his features, and he looked ready to murder me. For what reason, I did not know.

This Edward was quite the character and I was soon running out of ideas. I had no clue why I was even still here at this particular moment. Only a minute ago had he pushed my up against the wall, with the stance of a murderer.

"Yes, help from a murderer like you is exactly what I need. Help from a thief, like you is exactly what I need." I took a deep breath for courage as the statement I was going to say rose up and got caught in my throat.

Just say it!

"I need you to teach me how to steal."

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Cliffies! Don't kill me. I'm sorry, it was getting REALLY long. Also, to the people who asked the stories name in English, it means "The Art of Thievery". I hope you get why it's called that after this chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, that was awesome of you. If you want updates faster I suggest you tell Katielz(!) to get her butt typing!! Did you know when I wrote this chapter, she was still on chapter 4? LoL! Anyways, thanks again, seriously, you guys are amazing!

Umm…something else I wanted to say…oh yes! Does Bella seem OOC? I thought she did. Would love input! Thanks!

The questions you have will become clearer in this chapters, Edward's POV.

DJ