Chapter Three

A few years passed, although it did not trouble me at all. I had plenty of years still to come. Carlisle and I became good friends; in fact I had begun to look at him as a father figure. He had taught me much about being a vampire and had been careful to help me stay true to his dietary rules. Carlisle was a very intelligent man and I learned much about his past in the first few weeks we lived together. He had been the son of a pastor who had passionately hunted vampires. I found it funny – in a sadly ironic sort of way – that Carlisle had become that which he had once hunted. My now dead heart surely went out to him. I also tried to keep myself from his mind, which indeed was a pool of complex thoughts and ideas. In fact, I had become rather practised in the four years since my change. I only now delved into Carlisle's mind if he summoned me first – that is calling my name mentally. It was useful, even though we did have acute hearing.

We left Chicago not too long after Carlisle had bitten me. He felt it would hold too many painful memories for me and cause me to act out of line. I did not foresee that becoming an issue, but I was not a psychic. And so, we moved to Ashland. Wisconsin was nice – quiet. I liked it there and I felt more at peace than I had in Chicago. Perhaps Carlisle had been correct about the gloomy memories haunting me in the place where I should have died. We had lived in Ashland for almost four years – Carlisle working as a physician – before anything extraordinarily interesting happened.

Carlisle had gone to work for the day, leaving me home alone. I lounged about on the couch – our new permanent residence much more fit for living than our last – and I was reading Dracula. Of course I had read it before and prior to my change it had been one of my preferred pieces of literature. Of course, Count Dracula was nothing like me, not to mention Carlisle. It was odd. I wondered, vaguely, if Bram Stoker had ever actually made acquaintance with a vampire.

I was almost halfway through the novel when Carlisle came bursting through the front door. And he was not alone. He held a rather pretty woman in his arms. She looked barely alive. My mind automatically assumed the worst, and I was sure if there was blood still flowing freely through my veins, it would have drained from my face. Had Carlisle really taken this woman's life? Had he lost control? I could not imagine such an event ever happening. It would destroy the image of a father I had built around him for the little time we had spent together. And so I did what I had been training myself not to do. I probed Carlisle's mind, searching for the answer I knew he held there.

Of course there's time to save her. She should be lying down. Poor girl.

I pulled out his mind, hearing his worry and his concern. He had certainly not bitten this woman. I quickly hopped off the couch as Carlisle glided with impeccable speed and laid the petite woman down in what looked to be a comfortable position. Without so much as a glance or a word to me, Carlisle leaned forward and placed his lips to her pallid neck. I closed my eyes. I did not want to see her wounds. I did not wish to learn what had happened to me so few years ago. I heard a moment of dead silence, followed by a grunt of indescribable pain. I pushed the little woman's thoughts out of my head and walked away, straight out of the house.

I did not return for three days, feeding off tiny mammals like squirrels and mice. They didn't make for tasty meals, but anything was better than being in the house, listening to cries of agony. Carlisle had told me that transformations usually took three days, so I played it safe and returned exactly seventy-four hours after the woman had been bitten. That gave me two hours over three days, so I was hoping for the best when I walked through the front door. As soon as I stepped into the threshold of the house, Carlisle was in front of me, his face in mine, and a scowl lit his flawless features. To put the situation lightly, he seemed angry.

"Where the hell have you been?" he growled at me. I could almost feel the frustration and anger pouring from his body. It took much of my self-control to remain calm and not yell back.

"I did not wish to be here for the change," I said quietly, although my tone was etched with defiance of Carlisle's rude greeting. The older vampire looked me up and down, apparently trying to come to some sort of conclusion. I decided to put his rapidly working mind at ease.

"I stayed true to our habits," I told Carlisle, "There's no need to worry." Then I paused for a moment, looking around for someone who I knew should have been there. "Where's the female?"

"Her name is Esme," Carlisle corrected me instantly, "And she is resting in the back room. Her transformation ended less than a quarter of an hour ago."

Ah, so I was just in time. I nodded and collapsed onto the couch. I wasn't necessarily tired – vampires have no need for sleep – but there were some habits that died hard. For example, breathing. For me, it was completely unnecessary, but I had grown so accustomed to doing it for my seventeen human years that I found it odd not to breathe. Carlisle told me it was a habit to keep though, as interaction with humans was quite possible for me.

"You can go and introduce yourself if you like," Carlisle's voice prodded into my thoughts. I stood, without words, and sauntered over to the backroom of the house, which acted as a bedroom when we had a human guest – which wasn't very often, but Carlisle said we'd have to be careful. I opened the door casually and stepped inside, where darkness was more dominant than light.

Sitting on the foot of the bed was the petite woman whom I had not seen for three days. She looked at me as I entered and a warm smile spread across her pale lips. She certainly seemed very friendly.

"Hello," I greeted, "My name is Edward. I suppose you could say I'm Carlisle's son…"

"Oh," a look of sadness flashed across her pretty features as I spoke of family, but it quickly faded, "I'm Esme; it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Has Carlisle brought you anything to…drink yet?" I asked, hoping to make her first day of many as a vampire comfortable. Esme nodded happily, but there was still a deep sadness in her eyes. I had to restrain myself from digging into her thoughts and discovering the origin of the emotion.

"It was interesting," Esme sighed, her voice as soft as a dove's coo. I couldn't help but to chuckle at her choice of words. Esme looked up at me with relatively dark eyes; sad, dark eyes. I decided it was only fair to provide her with some sort of warning as to my powers.

"Look," I said as gently as I could muster, "I have an out of the ordinary talent, something that a lot of other vampires can't do…" Esme was looking at me intently, hanging onto my every word. "I can read minds," I continued, "I can hear in my head what's going on in yours. So, if you wish to keep your secrets, I'd beg you keep your thoughts in check with me around."

Esme's gaze shifted to look at me sideways and her lips spread into a large smile, as though she were holding back a giggle. I wondered what she found so funny, but I refused to find out by ways that were not available to everyone.

"We're kind of like a family now Edward," she said kindly, "You, Carlisle, and I are our own little family. And there are no secrets that I would not tell me family."

Her words struck a chord with me and I may have cried – if I had tears – when she placed her arms around me in a tight embrace, like a mother hugging their injured child. I then heard Esme's voice inside my own head. Feel free to look around, to learn.

And so, I closed my eyes and I let myself drift through Esme's mind. There I saw the sources of all her sorrows. I watched in horror as this beautiful, fragile woman was treated like vermin by the man she was supposed to love. I saw her grim pregnancy and I could literally feel her pain as the child she loved from the depths of her heart died before she had a chance to express her adoration.

Then came the cliff. An Esme, overridden with sorrow and mournfully crying, walked to the edge of a rocky abyss, contemplating what her next movement would be. And before I could reach out to her and stop her from her suicide, she had disappeared over the side, and her life was over. Or so it seemed to the human world.

Carlisle had taken her broken body and brought it back here, to save her, to give her immortality, to spend forever with us…with him. Because I knew Carlisle had some sort of feelings for Esme. I could read it, not from his mind, but on his face. My eyes shot open and I stared at Esme for a long time, in total silence.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. She simply shook her head as though I was being ridiculous. I felt her squeeze my arm in our locked embrace – and it reminded me of the lesson Carlisle had given me, concerning the immense strength of newborn vampires.

"Don't you worry about it for one minute," Esme said, "I have my family."