A/N: Hey everybody! Well, Bella is finally returning to her father's hometown of Forks, Washington—hence the chapter title. Sorry the posting was delayed as I had difficulty making Bella's interactions with a certain vampire flow smoothly. Hopefully, it meets (or exceeds) your expectations. As usual, feel free to leave your thoughts and comments regarding this chapter with a review, and be on the lookout for any grammatical mistakes I may have made.

(Posted on 4/2/17)

Chapter 13: Forks, Washington and Friends

I watched with a heavy heart as Heidi's jet gradually disappeared from sight, blending into the cloudy, black, but starlit sky. For the first time in my life, I was truly alone, isolated; no one would be coming to rescue me if I was in imminent danger. And though I highly doubted anyone would be capable of hurting me, it was still both an invigorating and frightening prospect. I finally had individuality in a time where I was accustomed to the constant presence of my friends and family.

Light footsteps sounded from behind me, along with a even, wet heartbeat. "Excuse me, miss Bella, but our flight departs now," Peter notified politely.

Sighing inaudibly to myself, I turned around. "Thank you, Peter." I followed him leisurely back aboard the plane, taking my previous comfy seat. The jet taxied onto the runway, and just like before, the engines whined; we took off from the bright airport without a hitch. I sank against the leather chair, the silence in the cabin more prominent without Heidi's presence. It was going to be a very long flight—about four hours from New York to Port Angeles.

I gazed out the window mindlessly as we flew, watching darkened fluffy clouds, slightly illuminated by moonlight, pass idly by. I was going have to devote some time in Port Angeles to hunt. In addition to my current nature as a newborn, being trapped a few thousand feet in the air and inhaling the human tainted oxygen wasn't necessarily the best environment for my thirst; each scorching breath I took only aggravated it more. There wasn't much I could do to lessen the pain, which was frustrating.

I sat motionless for the remainder of the flight until I'd noticed the shift in the orientation of the plane—it was now pointed downward at eight degrees. We continued to hold our angle for several more minutes, passing through the thick cloud layer, exposing the illuminated city of Port Angeles below. The lights were reassuring—it meant I was able to finally hunt after hours of temptation, as well as signifying my reaching closer to the goal of Forks.

The rubber tires squealed against the asphalt of the runway as they braked, slowly bringing the aircraft to a gentle crawl. We taxied to a halt beside a dreary, beige colored building with a sign labeled 'William R. Fairchild International Airport'. Eager to disembark, I waited impatiently for Peter to exit the cockpit and deploy the stairs; after which, I quickly threw my backpack over my shoulders and darted down, inhaling the fresh, clean, and somewhat damp air once I stepped off. The relief was almost indescribable—the tame, cool breeze flooded my lungs, clearing away Peter's scent.

I didn't bother saying goodbye to Peter—I was too thirsty, and the solid blue contacts I had in my eyes, courtesy of Heidi, were dissipating fast. I still had a couple dozen left—a substantial amount—in my bag, mostly due to Heidi's insistence in case I needed to mingle with humans. Instead, I headed east, toward the downtown district of the city, strolling along the concrete sidewalk.

Most of the neighborhoods I'd visited were affluent residential buildings, filled with sleeping or milling humans. Obviously, I had to find a less hospitable area—where a person's disappearance wouldn't raise an alarm. And so I continued east, sticking close to the shadows wherever possible, trying not to draw too much attention to myself. It was only when my environment shifted from a cordial to an aloof setting that I broadened the scope of my senses, listening keenly for the usual signs of a human—their beating hearts and breathing. There were less properties devoted for housing now, and more shoddy storefronts, some of which appeared to have long since been abandoned.

I was pleasantly surprised when a small group of people—about three—began trailing me. Just to ensure that they were indeed following me, I turned right at the next abandoned intersection, heading straight down a collection of deserted warehouses—the perfect scenario for any malicious intentions to be inflicted upon me, if that was their goal. I slowed down considerably, allowing them to catch up; I could tell by their footsteps they were trying to be stealthy—each step was calculated to minimize the amount of noise created.

Expressions of wonder and amazement flashed through the trio when I suddenly twisted around, facing them. They were all tall males, in their mid twenties, and wore plain, basic clothing—two had on black shirts, the other white, and the same faded light blue jeans.

"May I help you?" I asked innocently in an irresistibly high-pitched tone, barely able to keep the anticipation out from my voice. This was going to be fun.

"Yeah," the blond haired boy with the white shirt answered, which I assumed was the leader of their posse, since his two friends were hanging back on his flanks. He reached into his pocket and flicked out a long switchblade, the metallic blade glinting in the limited lighting that a lone streetlamp provided. "You can start by giving me your backpack and wallet," he ordered.

I pouted, jutting out my bottom lip. "But this is mine," I whined, clasping the backpack's shoulder strap a little bit tighter. His entourage came towards me from both sides, surrounding me in a loose circle.

"Listen lady, we don't wanna hurt nobody," his friend warned from my right. "Especially a pretty little thing like you."

"Thanks," I purred, shooting him a small smile for the compliment. "But I'm afraid I'm not the person getting hurt tonight." I growled, the threatening sound originating from the back of my throat. My lips automatically curled over my teeth, and my body acted instinctively; I grabbed the closest man, my left hand grasping his body tightly, and the other went underneath his chin. I pushed my right hand apart just enough to expose the pulsing jugular vein within his neck, and I sank my teeth into it.

He screamed in pain while an explosion of hot blood filled my mouth. I gulped greedily, soothing the dry itch of my parched throat, ignoring his feeble attempts to shove me away. When he became dry, I sighed contentedly and let the lifeless body drop to the ground; however, I was still thirsty—the burn was only half satisfied. My muscles tensed, and I dashed after the second lackey—the other one with the black shirt. He was only a couple of feet down the road before I caught up, bit, and drank him, too. The fiery inferno that was my throat had been quelled, put out.

But now I had to track down the last escaping individual. I let my senses range out once again, searching intently. A quickened heartbeat and panting, as well as the scent of blood, alerted me to his precise location. Other than that, there was no signs of life in a circle mile radius—just a few cars driving along the fringes. He was about two streets over, and wasn't actively moving—he'd either stopped to rest or hide.

I took a few steps back and quickly accelerated in the direction of the wall, closing the distance within a half a second. I pushed off the ground with my right foot, sailing through the air, and positioned my bent legs beneath me to absorb the impact—I landed on top of the roof with a low, muted thud. I commenced hopping from warehouse to warehouse, closing in on the last remaining human. Finally, I reached him and dropped down the walled-off alleyway he was situated in, blocking the exit to the street.

At first, the blond leader didn't hear me; the landing was too quiet, and he hadn't been paying attention. I whistled under my breath, and smiled when his head lifted. He screamed in unadulterated terror when he saw me. "What the fuck are you?" he demanded, voice trembling, scrambling to his feet—he'd been sitting down—and clutched his knife close to his body like a lifeline.

I didn't bother replying—it sounded rhetorical, anyway. "That's not a nice thing to say," I admonished before lunging at him. His blood was tainted with a substance—I suspected it was some kind of strong drug—that made it taste marginally bitter, like an aftertaste. It was definitely a change from the normal clean blood Heidi brought. After I'd finished drinking, I picked up his body and hauled it over my shoulders—I needed to dispose of the corpses properly.

Making sure there was no one near me, I sprinted to the original street, reaching it in only a few seconds. Reassuringly, the drained bodies were still there; I collected the remaining two, slinging them onto my right shoulder, while the other rested on my left. With the burden securely in my grasp, I leapt up onto the roof once more. I thought about where I should hide the bodies—the nearby harbor was deemed to be a good a place as any.

Bounding across the buildings proved an entertaining feat—it gave me a heightened sense of freedom, along with experiencing the rush of flight as I jumped over the periodic alleyways that dotted my path. As I neared my destination, I became conscientious and cautious to my surroundings—a human witnessing my carrying of bodies wasn't exactly inconspicuous.

Thankfully, no one spotted me—I really didn't feel like killing another, anyway. I carefully tossed my backpack aside onto the ground and dove in with my load, swimming—well, it was more like sinking—to the bottom of the murky, polluted harbor. I scanned my surroundings—miraculously, my vision was unobstructed by the amount of filth in the water—and found what I was looking for: a large boulder. I swam to the rock, gripping the algae-covered bottom and lifted, resting it next to the sizable divot it had uncovered. I pushed the remains into the crater, adjusting the positions to ensure it all fit, before placing the boulder back onto its new foundations.

When I surfaced, the overcast sky was already beginning to lighten; it was almost dawn. I hurriedly launched myself from the water, grabbing onto the metal railing that I had previously vaulted over, and paused briefly to wring out my hair and shirt once I hit the sidewalk.

"Shit," I muttered to myself, eyeing the extensive, numerous gashes along my white shirt that revealed parts of my pale stomach underneath. The leader had far better success in tearing my clothing than my skin with his blade. Sighing in annoyance, I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulders, not bothering to change. I didn't want to risk another article of clothing—I still had to cover a substantial amount of ground, most of which were through forests; plus, after my little swim, my clothes were ruined regardless.

I began to sprint southwest, sticking close to highway route one-oh-one—I had memorized a map of the state prior to leaving Italy, and this road would lead me directly into the heart of Forks. Once I made it out of the city, I lingered on the outer fringes of the road, lurking within the safe, confining shadows of the dense, mossy forest—the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of gray clouds, but I figured to stay on the safe side for now.

The midday sun shone half-heartedly through the canopy as I laughed cheerfully to myself, feeling the wet wind wildy whip my unrestrained hair; I dodged inbetween massive tree trunks while I ran, exhilarated. It was an enjoyable change of pace—the different environment I was dashing through provided a new sensation compared to my home; it was lush with wildlife, which hastily scattered when they detected my presence. There were several instances of where I had to cross a river, but I jumped over them easily enough.

Before long, I detected signs of human habituation—the overall forest density started to thin out with sporadic clearings left behind by loggers. I slowed down when I saw a sign welcoming me to the town of Forks, Washington, and reached the outskirts of the town where neat, cozy houses lined up and awaited me, inexplicably hesitant and doubtful. How was I supposed to find Billy? Should I first ask people if they remembered a man named Charlie Swan, and if they did, knew his friend, Billy? Should I break into some kind of government building—maybe a police station or the town hall—to search for records there?

As I mulled over my options, a voice about a mile deeper in the suburbs caught my unconscious attention—it was deep, yet gentle, and had the recognizable silky, musical quality of vampire.

"I suggest we hold her under observation for one more day. We need to rule out the possibility of a concussion," the man advised.

"Her father won't like it, Doctor Cullen, but I'm sure he'll understand if you tell him yourself." This person's tenor was rougher—a human.

A soft sigh in resignation. "Of course."

I froze in shock—what were the chances of meeting another vampire in this small, unremarkable town? Extremely slim, yet the perfect tone of this stranger said otherwise. I wasn't sure if I wanted this person to become aware of my presence—I didn't know his intentions, if he was merely hunting or resting. But curiosity got the best of me; I was intrigued by the notion that he was conversing with a human. And growing up with the Volturi meant the duty of maintaining the law was instilled within every fiber of my being—was this vampire properly concealing his true identity, if he wished to mingle in human society?

But before getting ahead of myself, I dropped my backpack to the ground while unzipping it simultaneously—only a sparse number of trees further intown that provided cover; basically nonexistent. I swiftly grabbed and changed into a new white shirt, tossing my old one behind a tree, hidden from sight. I then fished out a smokey gray jacket, donning it quickly, along with a set of contacts from a compact case, and pressed into both my eyes—though they hindered my sight, which was irritating, it was an improvement upon having bright ruby eyes.

Thus, I emerged from the woods and briskly made my way towards the general direction of the voice I'd heard, the occasional periods of speech offering a means to narrow down the location. As I continued along my path, I seemed to attract the immediate attention of bystanders—people that were originally walking in front of me, or across the street, stopped to stare at me, engrossed, with a variety of emotions: curiosity, suspicion, jealousy, lust, the whole nine yards. Was I really that ostentatious? I rolled my eyes and pulled my hood over my face. Humans were always captured by something that momentarily disturbed their boring, petty lives—such as a young, pretty woman simply strolling down a sidewalk.

After a few minutes, I passed what appeared to be the public high school, depicted by a wooden sign; however, the obvious sounds of occupancy were missing, along with the fact that the parking lots were empty. I turned right, veering off the highway, and headed west. After crossing a few blocks, I frowned when a hospital came into view—another sign, placed right out front, proclaimed its purpose. It was painted ivory with a faded red roof, and the source of the vampiric voice originated from inside. What was he doing in there? Was he stealing blood?

Carefully pushing aside the glass doors, I entered the warm reception area, shielded and on guard—I wasn't sure what to expect. "Can I help you?" a brunette chimed from behind her desk, dressed in a dark turquoise scrub uniform, when the sound of the door opening alerted her to my presence. During the short second of silence after she spoke, I drew a tiny breath, tasting the various fragrances that wafted in the air—the majority was human, with traces of fresh blood, yet within that mixture was the unmistakable sweet scent of vampire. It smelled similar to that of vanilla, but not bitter; rather, it had a sugary undertone, exactly like the ice cream flavor.

I strode forward until I reached where she sat. "I'm looking for Doctor Cullen," I replied politely, using the same name I'd heard earlier.

"Certainly. Give me one second to page him," she addressed, though I suspected he had already heard our conversation, and knew another vampire was in his presence. She picked up the handset from the telephone, and instructed for Doctor Cullen to report to front office, her orders transmitting through the overhead speaker system—the subdued static gave away its old age.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Doctor Snow. Unfortunately, I am being called down to the front."

"Not a problem. We can continue our discussion later."

I backed away from the counter as light footsteps echoed down the hallway behind to the receptionist, barely audible; it became louder as it approached ever so closer. I finally saw him appear as he turned the corner, about five feet away—he was blond, quite tall, and dressed in a sterile white lab coat with a stethoscope hanging around his collar. His bizarre amber eyes immediately locked with mine—despite the contacts concealing their true color to humans, I knew he could tell they were crimson beneath. His iris was very light, similar to an amber hue; they were completely alien, which unnerved me. Who was this person? Why were his eyes so different? Was he actually working in a human-operated hospital as a doctor, or was he merely imitating to be one? He didn't say anything, despite spotting me, and kept walking down the hallway. I leaned casually against the pale cream wall, waiting patiently. What ultimately relaxed the tension I'd felt was his calm, yet amiable demeanor. As long as he didn't attempt to harm me, I would reciprocate the same genial behavior.

"Yes, Miss Harvey?" he greeted the nurse in a tone of mild confusion.

Her expression was abnormally apologetic. "I'm sorry to bother you, Doctor Cullen, but this young lady is looking for you," she explained.

"Ah, thank you," he thanked, standing up straighter to face me. We both exchanged cautious stares, neither one of us doing anything—we were perfectly rigid. "Would you mind excusing us for a moment, please, Miss Harvey?" the vampire requested.

"Sure," she answered with uncertainty, followed by the scraping of her chair as she stood up and breezed out of the room, out the same hall.

Once I was sure she was out of earshot, I held my hands up in the air, a sign of peace. "My name is Bella, and I mean you no harm. I sincerely apologize for interrupting you during your… work. To be quite frank, I hadn't expected to see another vampire in this town."

He startled me with a bout of bewildered laughter. "And I hadn't expected to see another vampire in the hospital," he chuckled quietly and held out his hand. "Please, call me Carlisle. It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella." His name sounded strangely familiar, though I could not pinpoint the exact reason why.

I grinned in response to his mellow reaction and shook it. Carlisle seemed very affable and polite, a gentleman. In some ways, he reminded me of Demetri, save the hair. "The pleasure is all mine. Now, I don't mean to offend you in any way, but why are your eyes yellow?"

His friendly smile became bigger. "My coven and I hunt animals instead of people," Carlisle explained carefully, like he had been asked the question before. "The difference in diet causes the change in color."

My eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I never knew that was possible."

Carlisle nodded his head. "Sadly, vegetarianism is not popular among our kind."

Suddenly, I knew why I felt his name was so recognizable. It was a distant human memory from when I was still a human, but I recalled an instance where I had talked to Aro about friends, specifically if the Volturi had any. Aro had simply sighed and shook his head with sadness—but then paused.

"I can only think of one person, one that I truly can call a friend."

"Who?"

"Stregone Benefico, or if you prefer to know his real name, Carlisle. He had visited Italy in pursuit of the arts, and stumbled across our little coven."

"What happened to him?"

"Oh, nothing bad, my dear. He stayed with us only a few decades before setting off once more. Except for his abnormal appetite, he was excellent company."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps I'm being too harsh. To tell you the truth, I respected Carlisle for his decision; he had chosen to go against his own nature, and instead, hunted animals rather than humans."

"Why?"

"Carlisle had an unusual trait—some argued it was actually his gift. He was a compassionate man. He despised the thought of killing a human, even if it was only for his blood, and sought a different method—so he drank animals."

"He sounds like a good friend and a kind person."

"Oh, he is, my dear, he is. Though, I am afraid I may have angered him—I continually pressured him into reverting back to human blood, and shortly after another reminder, he departed."

"I'm sure he is not angry with you, Aro."

"Thank you, my dear Bella."

I blinked, stunned. Could this stranger that I'd met two minutes ago possibly be the same person as Aro's friend? It felt like an impossibility, yet his peculiar eyes was all the confirmation I needed.

Carlisle cleared his throat softly, recapturing my attention again. "If you're still interested, I have a permanent residence where we could convene with the rest of my coven," he offered.

I deliberated for a quarter of a second—meeting his coven would be an interesting prospect. It would also allow me to determine if they were concealing their identities in accordance to the law. "Alright," I agreed, feeling rather excited.

A/N: Yes, that "certain vampire" was none other than Carlisle! I wonder what will happen when Bella meets with the rest of the Cullens...