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Chapter 8: Questions from answers

Halifax, Nova Scotia

The house Esme had found for them in Nova Scotia had enormous spacious rooms, though only four bedrooms. Normally when they were all together, she would only consider a house with no fewer than six, but choices in this part of Canada were rare. Most of the homes here were for small families, and the rest were hunting cabins. The climate did not invite the wealthy and their accompanying extravagant homes, no matter how spectacular the views were.

She had nearly given up and opted to purchase several smaller homes in close proximity when this house became available. The size of the rooms invited potential construction of studies within the bedrooms, or at the very least, sitting areas. Carlisle had insisted on simply setting up a desk in their bedroom and kept a laptop and a few texts nearby.

Each of the Cullen men glanced at the large bed where they had found sanctuary less than a week ago, remembering those hours of silent comfort. Emmett flopped across the foot of the bed. Edward pushed Emmett's feet off the comforter before sitting next to him.

Carlisle moved to his desk and punched in the name on the videophone. Advertising filled the display screen as they waited for their Denali cousins to answer the call. Among the amazing changes of the twenty-first century were the spectacular strides in technology. In the early part of the century, people needed mobility and cell phones were popular, but video calls overwhelmed the wireless spectrum and more and more people were using landlines again because the technology allowed for the intense demands on the system. Alice already had them purchasing strategic companies that would allow them to take advantage of the new wireless video technology that would bring the same functionality back to mobile devices. Advertisers found an immense market in video calling technology. They not found a new way to deliver their message, but they could target the market based on geography. So it wasn't at all surprising to see ads from the local cannery curl across the screen.

They watched the videophone as it displayed generic graphics to indicate the connection was being made and heard a routine greeting from a familiar voice before she saw who was calling.

"Carlisle!" Kate replied with a smile in her voice. "It's wonderful to hear from you! How are you?"

"We're fine," Carlisle reassured. "And you?"

"Excellent. We've had a bit of fun here. Did you hear about the earthquake?" she asked, before quickly answering her own question. "Of course you haven't. I'm sorry. Such a big place here, but nothing at all to the rest of the world."

"Oh? Was it a six?" Carlisle asked, still making small talk.

"Six? Oh, heavens no. Do you think we'd be so delighted with a six? No, no... it was an seven point two!"

"Really?" Carlisle couldn't help but be impressed. "Any damage?"

"A bit, but nothing we can't handle. Carmen and Tanya watched a great display of northern lights the night before the earthquake. We were just discussing the possible connection between the two. There was also an incident with a particularly large grizzly that day. Do you remember in sixty-three when that family of bears harassed the town and the next day there was a seven point three earthquake?" Kate reminisced.

Carlisle laughed softly with a nod. "Is Eleazar there? I'd like to speak to him."

"Oh, sure."

"Hello!" came his familiar voice and image on the screen. His eyes scanned his screen, taking in the image of the room behind Carlisle and recognizing everyone present.

"Ah, Edward! How is that lovely wife of yours?" Eleazar asked.

"She's well, thank you."

"Eleazar," Carlisle interrupted, "What have you heard about the rumors of an assassin, a vampire assassin?"

"Just that there's reportedly a vampire who kills vampires. It's all quite mysterious. It almost sounds ridiculous, as if that's anything out of the usual. I could be called a vampire assassin myself. So could all of you after that business with the newborns in Seattle."

"But you've never heard of something that would make even you pause? Something outside of our experience, a skill perhaps?"

"Carlisle..." Eleazar asked carefully. "What's going on?"

Carlisle looked at Edward, gesturing for him to explain.

"I think it's my friend, Rolle."

"Rolle?" Eleazar asked.

"I met him in Chicago years ago. He was a vampire, but different from any other I had ever met: his eyes for one. They were silver, not gold or red." When Eleazar did not speak, Edward continued. "He played piano, and we began talking about the jazz festival in the area."

"What makes you think he's an assassin?" Eleazar finally asked.

"I saw him kill Demetri, from the Volturi guard."

"Demetri?" Eleazar repeated in shock. "You saw this?"

"I did. So did Bella, Alice and Jasper."

There was another pause, before Eleazar continued urgently, "I need you to tell me everything."

Edward told him everything that had occurred during the hurricane and shared the supposed threat the Volturi may have posed toward the family. Eleazar was quiet, absorbing every detail until Edward spoke about the sudden violent sickness and pain they all felt before Rolle made Demetri vanish.

"How far away were you from them when you felt this?" he wanted to know.

"Perhaps a three-quarters of a mile," Edward answered.

"Carlisle," Eleazar asked. "Did you feel anything like Edward is describing?"

"No, not that I recall, but they were at least seven or eight miles away from us."

Eleazar glanced back at Jasper and Emmett in the picture. "You saw this attack?"

"It was just as Edward said," Jasper corroborated. "The pain, the pulsing, the sound waves in the air, and then it felt like I was going to be sick, violently sick like a human. When the waves in the air stopped, everything went back to normal."

"And Demetri?"

"Rolle hit him flat in the chest and he simply turned to dust."

"And Rolle was with you for how long?" Eleazar asked.

"A month," Emmett answered. "He was on and off here for a month."

"You saw this, too?" Eleazar asked Emmett.

"No, I was with Carlisle. All he did to me was rip off my arm."

"You arm," Eleazar repeated soberly. "So he didn't stay with you the entire time?" Eleazar asked.

"No, he was a guest," Carlisle answered this time. "He had the freedom of the house. Eleazar, have you ever heard of a skill like this in all your work with the Volturi?"

"With the Volturi?" he repeated. "No, but I can see why they'd be eager to take him in. I did hear something once..." he trailed off with a worried and somber expression on his face. "Would you mind if I made a few phone calls?"

"We'd be grateful," Edward said, coming up behind Carlisle and resting a hand on his father's shoulder. "Any information you can give us would be helpful."

"And..." Jasper broke in, ignoring Edward's stare as he heard what question he wanted answered. We need to know, he thought to his brother, even as he continued, "...anything you can tell us about how to fight back against such an attack, if anyone has ever survived it."

"I'll let you know what I find then," and Eleazar's image faded from the screen.

§∞•••∞§

Bucharest, Romania

Rain sheeted down across the coarse cobbles of the street and sidewalk, pouring off the red tile gutters of the small hamlet's buildings. The clash of old and new marred the quaint feel of the village as old world classic architecture was forced aside for quick-fix communist tenements. Cost-cutting fingerprints marked these buildings in more ways than simply being plain and unappealing. The cheap aluminum downspouts, poorly attached, leaked in torrents onto the street. A lonely crooked man, buried deep in a heavy cloak, shielded himself from this waterfall over his door and pushed his way inside. His deep burgundy eyes were hidden in the shadows of his dripping hair.

As Vladimir swept his wet hair from his face and pulled the cloak off his back with one hand, it fell too quickly from his back. He caught it deftly, reaching across his misshapen chest. Water sprayed into the small foyer. The unnecessary arm of his shirt and jacket was folded and pinned to his side.

Glancing across the room, he met the blank stare of his brother. Stefan stood frozen with the phone held in his hand. A quick busy signal said that the call had been disconnected for quite some time.

"What is it?" Vladimir asked quietly.

Stefan set the phone down slowly staring at it, his brow drawing down with concern. He did not look at his brother.

"What has happened?" Vladimir asked.

Stefan raised his eyes: blood-hungry dark red stared into blood-full red. He answered with a single word that held a thousand words and worries. "Eleazar."

Vladimir raised his hand to hold the concave shape of his missing shoulder.

Eleazar was a talented Volturi counselor who had denounced his allegiances to the ruling body and left Italy. He and his mate, Carmen, removed themselves to Alaska where they were befriended by the coven there. Over time, Eleazar and Carmen took up the abnormal lifestyle of the Alaskan clan hunting animals and feeding from them exclusively. When they were certain Eleazar's alliance were truly severed, the Romanians had contacted him about the young vampire boy they had found upon their shores. They shared little of what they knew at first, merely hoping to discover more about the odd skills the boy possessed.

They found Eleazar to be easy to approach and sensible in his evaluation. His demeanor was sober and attentive, reminding them of the vampires of old even though his eyes had started to fade in color. Eleazar's alternative lifestyle was not discussed and soon did not matter at all. The more they spoke, the more the Romanian's voracious need to know allowed them to speak more freely to the gift-reader. They speculated about what the youth's skills might develop into. More importantly, they discussed the extent of damage that the boy could do as he grew stronger. Eleazar was the only one they shared this with. It was only out of necessity that they trusted him at all.

"Eleazar?" Vladimir repeated. "He's had news of the boy?"

Stefan nodded slowly. "He's been with Carlisle this past month."

"Carlisle?" Vladimir considered this and his body relaxed. "If he's to be ashore at all, that would be the least objectionable choice." He dropped the wet cloak over a bench and walked by his brother to get a towel to dry off.

Stefan reached out and put his hand on Vladimir's arm. "He attacked him."

Vladimir stopped and stared thinking he must have misunderstood. "Who?"

"Rolle attacked Carlisle." Vladimir winced with shock so Stefan elaborated. "He did not cause harm to him, but he did remove the arm of one of Carlisle's childer. Rolle did not harm any other of the coven, but..."

Vladimir felt the worst news was about to be told, and he was not disappointed.

"Marcus was present during the attack. We were right. It was Marcus who turned the boy. The Cullens turned Rolle over to him at his betrayal." Stefan looked meaningfully into the face of his companion. "Marcus took the boy back to Italy with him."

"No!" Vladimir snapped. "What was Marcus doing there?" he needed to know.

Stefan held out his hands helpless.

Vladimir staggered back a step and fell heavily into a thick wooden chair. "We are lost," he whispered.

"What if we were wrong?" Stefan asked urgently. "What if our findings..." He trailed off at Vladimir's dark expression.

"We were not wrong," he said in a flat voice, running his hand over his missing shoulder. "If Rolle would attack one such as Carlisle, there must be more about him or his coven than we knew, or the story is incomplete."

The elders grew quiet with their thoughts trying to connect the information they now had to the threat only they could truly understand. As much as they wanted to overthrow the Volturi, they also realized the danger of catastrophic exposure to the mortal world. They knew that Rolle's deadly ability was just as effective against humans as it was against the immortals.

"Why was Marcus there?" Vladimir muttered to himself again. "And why was the boy with Carlisle again? Surely he would not keep going back to them if they had dark intentions."

Stefan looked up. "Do you suppose the Romans filth connected Rolle with the stories of the assassin? Perhaps they sent his maker there to collect him, worried about Carlisle's numbers. We knew the Cullens growing coven would draw attention to them."

Vladimir stood suddenly with a frustrated cry. "This is no good. We only speculate. We have to go and learn for ourselves." He paced the floor in his agitation as his mind worked furiously in how to approach this new dilemma.

"Call Eleazar," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Ask him to make the arrangements for our introduction. We must speak to Carlisle ourselves. We must discover the circumstances of this attack." Vladimir strode urgently to the desk in the other room. "I'll make arrangements for our flight. We leave immediately."

"What if we were wrong about Carlisle? What if he refuses to see us?" Stefan asked.

Vladimir's tone was sharp and intractable. "We're going anyway."

§∞•••∞§

Paris, France

Rachel flung her arm out across the bed then frantically looked around the small room. She knew she had fallen asleep in his arms, but when she woke up to an empty bed she couldn't stop the surge of insecurity. It wasn't a luxury room. It was a simple standard size for Europe, and frankly a bit large for Paris. It had a swing-out window, but the only view was the courtyard car park below.

Rolle was standing there, nude and stunning, looking down at the cars. He was bathed in the pale light of a waning moon holding back the heavy drapes with one hand letting the soft light of night into the room. His skin looked even paler and his hair had no color at all in the moonlight. He looked like a Greek statue. His expression was pensive from what she could see of his face.

Just looking at him made her ache. She got up and went to stand behind him, wrapping him in her arms and pressing her hands against his chest. He was cold from the night air. He was a little taller than she was, but not by much. She could easily rest her chin on his shoulder and stare down into the car park.

"What's down there?" she whispered. "A Llamborghini Gallardo?"

He snorted lightly and brought one hand up to rest over hers, pressing her hand against him. He turned his head toward her so she nuzzled his ear and put her lips around his earlobe, sucking at it lightly. He sighed slowly and leaned into her kiss. It thrilled her that he enjoyed her touch. When her hands began to slide down his chest and over his stomach with deliberate purpose, he turned to face her and wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her close and block her destination between their bodies. He leaned in and kissed her. Rachel kept her frown at bay, deciding to not complain when he kissed her the way he did.

"Aren't you tired?" he asked, raising his hand to her cheek. He traced his thumb along her bottom eyelid, which she was afraid looked as dark as his did in the shadows.

She shook her head. "My clock hasn't reset yet." She draped her own arms around his waist. "I shouldn't sleep any more though, to force myself into the time zone. Can you help?"

"What do you need?" he asked, his hands rubbing lightly over the top of her backside.

It was such a loaded question that she debated for a moment between nice and evil, but she was becoming more and more curious about him the longer she knew him. "Can we just lay in bed and talk a while?"

"Sure." He walked back to the bed with her and held up the covers while she crawled in. Rolle walked around to the other side, slid under the covers and spooned up against her with his arm draped over waist, kissing the side of her neck.

She knew he couldn't see her eyes roll back into her head, but she was sure he heard her swallow hard and felt the shiver that ran through her.

"You're still cold?" she asked, mostly to cover up the fact that her trembling had nothing to do with his body temperature.

"I'm fine," he assured sounding distracted.

When he started tucking the covers around her, she realized he had misinterpreted her trembling. She didn't stop him when he pushed the covers closer to her body, but she swatted his hand and gave the blanket a yank when he tried to tuck it between their bodies to separate his cold skin from hers.

"Hey!" he reproved sounding honestly irked.

"Hey yourself," she snapped right back and took his wrist tightly in her hand to pull it back around her. She wiggled back straight against his chest.

Rolle chuckled through his nose, and Rachel was secretly glad she hadn't really pissed him off. He bent his knees into hers and pulled her to him in a tight spoon. Rachel couldn't help but feel his cock tucked against her ass and she made contented sounds to show her approval. Rolle pulled her hair over her neck and kissed her softly behind her ear.

"So can I know your whole name, or is that going to make this too personal?" she asked him.

"Rolle Tylor," he answered easily.

"Rolle," she repeated. "That's an unusual name. Is it a family name?"

"It's short for Rolland. Can I know your whole name?" he asked softly in return.

Rachel felt a jolt of excitement that he wanted to know. "Harp."

"Rachel Harp?"

"Mm-hmm."

He was silent then murmured quietly, "Rachel Harp," as his hand brushed lightly back and forth over her thigh.

Rachel's reaction to hearing him say her name like that worried her. She slowly started to be afraid that what was originally just a lot of hot fun with the mile-high club was becoming something different now; something... else.

"You're not..." she started to say, then paused uncomfortably in the shadow of her sudden realization. She really didn't want to know the answer to the question that suddenly burned in her mind. "You're not, you know, married or seeing someone or anything are you?"

He didn't reply.

Rachel wanted him to chuckle. She wanted him to sigh. She wanted anything other than his silence. Her stomach sank. His silence said so much that she couldn't stand it. "That's okay. I'm sorry. You don't—"

"No," he barely whispered.

She had been so eager for any kind of denial she stopped speaking at the first sound of his voice. His answer, rather the way he answered, only brought more anxiety. What was the dramatic delay? Was he lying to her?

"I'm not lying to you," he said as if he read her mind.

She couldn't bring herself to believe him, though. "Rolle," she tried to explain, but stopped and sighed. "I'm not... I mean, this was fun and all, but I'm not, you know, a home wrecker."

He took a slow deep even breath, then released it just as slow and even. His hand stilled on her leg. "There's no one like that waiting for me," he answered low but his voice was strained.

He couldn't hide it, and she heard it easily. There was something in his voice, something important, but she only wanted to hear his words and feel the instant relief they brought her. Rachel reached down to his wrist and brought his arm around her waist, pressing back into him more. She felt him rest his forehead against the back of her shoulder.

"So what do you do?" she asked to change the subject. Whatever it was he could tell her later if he wanted to. Rachel let herself be happy with the answer in any case, having jumped over the biggest hurdle and feeling a lot better about life.

"I'm a dog catcher," he said and she whipped her head around in surprise trying to see his face.

"You are not!" she cried.

His chest shook against her and although she couldn't hear it, she knew he was laughing at her.

"Rolle!" she scolded him and reached back, swatting at whatever she could reach of him.

He grabbed her hip and kissed the back of her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."

"Now you're a bald-faced liar," she accused him.

He moved behind her and leaned up so he could press his mouth to her ear. She felt everything go out of focus at his touch. His lips moved against her ear as he asked in a breath, "Do you like this?" he asked of nothing in particular. He pressed his hips against her and lightly dragged his tongue along her ear.

Rachel gasped. "Yes!"

"I won't lie to you, honey, but there are some questions I can't answer." He nuzzled her hair.

The fog in her head started to lift. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he added.

The fog vanished. "You...!?" She didn't even know how to begin to express her annoyance. "You lean in and get all snuggle-sexy on me and then say you won't answer? Was that a trick?" She tried to maintain the ire in her voice, but knew she didn't succeed.

"Should I have left it at the snuggle-sexy and not said anything else?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

She didn't answer him, and all the bigger questions forced themselves forward in her mind. "Who was that man you were with on the plane?" she asked instead.

This time he didn't answer.

"Is he somehow part of the work you won't talk about?" she pressed.

"Should I use the snuggle-sexy again?" he asked instead.

She huffed loudly. "Is that your way of telling me you won't answer?"

He let out a slow breath through his nose. "It's my way of... asking for a pass."

His refusal to answer stung more than it should have. He must have sensed the change in her though, because his hand slowly started stroking her arm.

"Would you rather I lie?" he asked, and his voice was sad.

Rachel rolled over to see his face, needing to understand, hoping to find the answers in his eyes. He was giving her the choice. She knew if she asked him to lie, he would, and she could doubt everything he told her. Or, she could let him have his pass and know that everything else was true without question. The choice was easy, but bittersweet.

"No," she relented with sigh, wondering why she was so hung up on trust with someone who was a one-night-stand.

"You can still have the snuggle, if you want," he offered.

"Snuggle-sexy," she corrected automatically, unable to keep the petulant sound out of her voice and hating herself for it.

His fingers slid along her chin, pulling her face up so she had to look at him. His pale eyes looked black in the dark, but she could still see the outline of his face and the ghost-like wisps of hair around his head. He lowered his hand to her breast, alternately lifting and palming it.

"You work for him," she stated quietly. Rolle's hand continued to fondle her and she watched his shadowed face intently. He nodded once. "He told you to stop talking to me." Rolle didn't nod this time, but his touch over her breast became a light caress. It wasn't outright acquiescence, but to Rachel it felt like it. "And you were left behind because you disobeyed him." Rolle's hand became still, but did not move from where it rested cupped around her. "When will he want you back?"

"Any day now," he answered slowly.

"What will you do?"

"Go, when I'm summoned."

They stared at each other in the dark. She was unable to see the emotion in his eyes, but Rolle could see hers.

"Until then?" she asked in a tiny voice.

He lowered his hand to her ribs, under her breast. "I'd like to be with you, if you'll have me."

Rachel reached up and lightly combed his hair back from his temple a few times with her fingernails as she considered what he was saying. Immediate gratification was easily accomplished, but there was something about him still that she wanted to get to know, something that wouldn't be answered short-term. His beauty wasn't only skin deep. Yes, he was gorgeous and still she couldn't believe he was here with her now, but it was more than his looks. He was a puzzle to her: passionate, tender, and sad. Everything about his soul seemed to be a struggle and she couldn't understand why.

"So... not a one night stand?" she asked before she could second-guess his answer, not at all surprised when she felt him stiffen next to her.

"No!" he insisted, earnest and sounding hurt that she had suggest it. "No," he repeated again softer, but the hurt was still in his voice. It made her glad she couldn't really see his expression in the dark.

"Then what is this?" She hated that her voice sounded small as she asked this, and she couldn't identify what she was feeling that would make it so.

His thumb moved slowly against her skin, brushing over her sternum and up the side of her breast then down again. "It's arrogant," he whispered as his thumb swept down.

"It's beautiful." His thumb swept up.

"It's selfish." Down.

"It's generous." Up.

"It's foolish." Down.

"It's innocent." Up.

He took a deep breath and it stuttered in his chest. "Can it... can it just be what it is? Can it just be a moment in time..." his voice broke and he pressed his nose and eyes against her chest. "...just to be happy?" he finished in a whisper as if someone might hear him saying a bad word. She could feel his brow furrow against her skin, felt his lips purse against her as his entire body tensed, desperately trying to hold something in.

She hated not knowing what he thought they were doing, but she hated seeing him tense and worried like this even more. She pressed into him, nuzzling him closer. "Okay," she whispered into his ear. She melted into his arms because she wanted to enjoy this time with him, wanted to enjoy him. "Okay," she repeated, hating the defeat she could hear in her own voice.

"I'll keep you as long as I can then," she told him, wanting to get up and find his cell phone so she could smash it into pieces.

"Rachel...."

She pressed her fingers to his lips to stop him. "No, don't." Their cool softness distracted her for a moment and she rubbed them with her fingertips. "Don't say anything else." She dragged her finger against his bottom lip, focusing all her attention there so she wouldn't have to see the dim light in his eyes. She couldn't look at his eyes.

He opened his mouth a little and wrapped his lips gently around her finger. She hadn't realized she had opened her own mouth until his finger was on her lips, imitating her touch on his. He touched the tip of his tongue to her nail, slowly dragging it around and over her fingertip. Rachel moved her finger, exploring his mouth deeper, but he took the opportunity to move on top of her again. It wasn't for sex, though. He positioned himself too low. She cradled him between her thighs and he rested easily over her, keeping some of his weight on his arms. He nuzzled her neck and chest, pressing light kisses against her skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, cuddling him, until the sky outside started to lighten.

§∞•••∞§

A/N: As always, my thanks to my previewers: Irishgirl, Milalencar, and LolaShoes. Thanks to Nikki Pattinson over at Twilighted.

Apologies if I appeared insensitive about the Haiti earthquake by speaking so lightly of an earthquake in this chapter. To be honest, this was written in November of 2009 as I was writing ahead to prepare for posting consistently. I considered taking it out, but feel it will was necessary to remind folks of exactly how big Alaska is, and how unpopulated.

FYI, there will not be a post next week. I will be wrapped up in a work event. Look for Chapter 9 on Feb. 15th

Reviews let the author know you are reading... So I've heard...

Feel free to tell me what I'm doing wrong, too! I have a thick skin when it comes to writing. I want to know what doesn't work. I'm always looking to improve as a writer.