AN: Yes, this is a writing kick, and I will warn you that it will pass at one point, making my updates slower. And I do, you know suffer from that nasty writer's-block disease…so I'm expecting it eventually. I just want you to know this whole daily-update thing, though totally awesome, will most likely not last the duration of this story!
To sally94: the angstiness should be about over now—of course she'll still be in some pain and all that, but it will get better! Though I can't guarantee Bella/Peter action quite yet…I do promise it though, eventually!
Continuing, I'd like to warn you of some extremely mild violence. I just had Bella stab someone, nothing to see here… :P But yes, it does happen, because my favorite female character (one of the, I should say) has been introduced! Raise your hand if you love Claire!
So, ahem, I will allow you to read on. Please tell me how this one turned out! :D
Immolation Chapter 3: Meetings
"Someone once said that the best heroes were your everyday people…and I guess they were right…"
I awoke, screaming. Bloody muscles and tendons, exposed and broken bones, golden eyes and sharp teeth had haunted me in my nightmares. My blanket was on the floor, crumpled, and I was breathing heavily, drenched with a cool sweat. I looked frantically around my room, finding nothing wrong, and looked to the door. Apparently Charlie had decided to stop responding after the last four times I had woken up, screaming his name.
But this one was by far the worst—then, I was still in the hazy state of half-dreaming, half-alertness, and had easily fallen back asleep. But now I was awake and I was scared for no particular reason. I didn't remember what my dream had been about, exactly, but was having flashes of different scenes from it, and didn't like what I saw at all. Each one terrified me in its own way—his golden stone eyes, the torn apart man rebuilding himself, cold red eyes staring at me hungrily.
After the bombardment of my own thoughts left me alone and shaking, cold, I took a deep breath and let it out, running a hand instinctively through my hair and looking around my room. It was dark and empty, and immediately I felt the loss. His cool touch had become a regular thing—something I had nearly taken for granted as I laid my head down each night. And now, it was suddenly gone.
Before I gave my body the command, I found that I was up, shivering at the sensation of the cool wood under my bare feet, and walking over to where I had left my photo album. I still had pieces of him—even if it was nowhere near the real in the flesh him, I could pretend. I could prove to myself it was more than a long, beautiful dream.
I reached my album and opened it with shaky hands. My eyes widened. In that moment, I felt whatever remnants of a heart inside me implode. My last thread, the one thing I could hang onto, was gone. He was gone completely, in every way possible.
I wasn't sure when I began to fall, but I thudded to the ground. The coolness didn't even register. I didn't know if my eyes were opened or closed, only that it was dark. And I slowly felt the darkness creep in, shoving everything else away, before it swallowed me whole.
A week passed by slowly. Each second dragged on like a millennia, and I felt each and every piece of me slowly falter and fade away. Soon I was nothing but a shell, my hollow numbness and pain the only things accompanying me within my mask. I looked about unseeingly, spoke without commanding my lips, and didn't hear a single word said to me. Everything was mechanic—all I could do was wade in the thick pool of nothing that had become my mind. I was walking on a tightrope—be alive and feel the pain, or forget completely and never leave my room again. I was somewhere in-between, and I felt stuck in my new hollow self.
Everything had become a routine these days—wake up tired, go to school tired, work at Newton's tired, make dinner tired, go to sleep and not get an ounce of it. And, of course, always avoid anything that could ever possibly remind me of the days before this came about.
But then, change came about again. The school buzzed with the news of a surprise new student, a girl from Texas. A tanned, beautiful cheerleader. The boys talked about how hot she was, how they would take her to prom, and the girls made either snide comments about how she wasn't that pretty or talked about how they'd be her best friend ever. I simply made it through each period slowly before nibbling forlornly on a cracker at lunch, staring at a large blue tile. And yet, suddenly, someone rushed into the seat in front of me.
"God, I hope you don't mind me sitting here, I just have to get away from the mob for once." The girl who I didn't recognize breathed a sigh that was obviously relief. "I can breathe without someone asking why, thank the Lord."
I snickered mechanically, looking back to my floor tile. "I don't mind. I was new just last year, so I get it. I'll not bother you, if you'd like." The girl looked up and smiled a bright, white smile at me.
"Well, I never said anything about that! It's just no one was sitting here, and you were alone, and I wanna be kinda alone right now, so…" but I heard the familiar squeaky sneakers and chuckle of Mike Newton, one of the few people who still had any confidence left in my ability to live.
"Bella! I see you're making new friends," he scooted his chair forward, and I reached for another cracker, not looking up at him as I nodded. "Glad to hear it." He turned to the girl in front of me, who had taken a huge bite of her sandwich. I smiled as she chewed, definitely one of the least cheerleader-like cheerleaders I had ever seen. She settled her light eyes on Mike as he picked at his food.
"So, Claire—" My cracker broke with a surprisingly loud crunch as it hit the table, and Mike glanced over at me. He seemed to disregard it, used to my odd behaviors, but the girl cocked her head to the side, looking at me strangely. I was right. She's come after him.
"Claire. Your name is Claire," I said stupidly, looking up at her for confirmation. She nodded slowly, not sure where I was going with this. "You wouldn't happen to know a Peter, would you?" That was the first time in a week I had spoken with any emotion, and Mike fell silent as he watched.
Her jaw dropped. "You know Peter?" She paused, stunned, but continued after a moment. "How?"
I licked my lips nervously, realizing I didn't know this girl, and her reaction to what I would ask her was definitely a variable in my plan. She could freak out and try to kill me…which I could see her doing, especially if she was like Peter. "It's a…long story," I put emphasis on my words, hoping she would understand that it was something that couldn't be said in front of Mike. Whether she understood, I wasn't sure, but I waited for a moment before continuing. "Do you think we could…um…talk after school?" I asked quietly.
She looked at me with her eyes narrowed, her suspicion almost tangible in the air around us. Mike even seemed to sense it, chewing on an apple nervously as his eyes flicked back and forth between us. I knew it wasn't real, but the air around us seemed almost cold as she scrutinized me.
And then she brightened, beaming at me. "Okay," she chirped happily. She took a big bite of her sandwich again, nodding, as if to confirm her agreement. She swallowed quickly. "You wanna follow me to my house?"
I winced, remembering that the stereo in my truck was too much of a reminder, and since then I had been walking everywhere I went—which simply was school and work. "Actually, I walked here today, so do you think you could…?" I felt kind of bad asking it of her, but she simply nodded brightly. The bell decided to ring then, and she hopped up with her tray.
"No problemo. I'll just drop you off at your house or something. Maybe we'll even become friends!" She threw Mike and me a last smile before dumping her trash and walking out. But if I wasn't mistaken, I could have sworn I saw slight tension in the way she walked. I looked over at Mike, but he simply shrugged at me and grabbed my trash, taking it with him as he dumped his. I thanked him quietly, walking to the door, and even allowed him to walk me to class.
Classes seemed to drag much longer than they had all week—it felt like days passed by as each teacher droned on in a monotone. But finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of school, and made me jump. Nerves jittered in my stomach as I thought of sitting in a car with Claire, not sure of what I was going to say, how I was going to word it, and most importantly—how she would take it.
I waited outside the doors for just a few moments before spotting her walking out. She waved to me, pulling on a jacket, before setting off down the stairs. I rushed after her, and she smiled when I was next to her, but said nothing. We walked over to a sleek black car, and she pressed a button. It beeped as the doors unlocked, and I opened the passenger door and plopped down on the seat. She started the car, still silent, and pulled out and away. When we were far enough from the typical after school traffic, her voice floated over to me, calmer than I expected.
"So, Bella. You wanted to talk." I could sense a wall behind her words. I struggled for a good response.
"Yes, actually," was all I deemed safe at the moment.
"About?" She turned briefly to look at me, before setting her eyes on the road again.
I licked my lips before clamping down on the bottom one, contemplating. "Well…I met Peter, a time ago, under…odd circumstances." She nodded tightly.
There was a hesitant silence, and I could sense that she was debating something. I looked over, carefully trying to place the expression on her face—it was a mix of apprehension, worry, and even fear. She pulled a hand from the wheel, running it through her blonde hair, before sighing.
"Are you a special person too?" she asked finally. I felt my brows furrow as she looked at me anxiously.
"A special person? Not particularly…" I said slowly, wondering what she could be thinking made me special.
She sighed in an almost dejected way, looking left out her window for a moment, before turning to the road again. "Just…tell me how you met Peter, please. Maybe we can sort all this out."
I sighed also, picking at my nails, suddenly regretting my need to talk to her. We were alone, on a stretch of road I didn't recognize, with no houses around. If she had any kind of abilities like Peter seemed to—flying, for instance, since he had landed from the sky—then she would definitely win in a fight. If I was being honest, she wouldn't even need both hands, let alone the ability to fly, to overpower me.
"I…do you promise not to, like, get mad or anything?" I asked quietly, but she laughed.
"Yeah. I promise."
"Well…I was taking…a walk…" my voice broke as I winced, "in the forest. It was dark, and I was cold, but I still know what I saw…" I stopped there, briefly musing on whether or not Claire even knew of her uncle's abilities. What if she didn't, and never came near me again, deeming me a crazy fool? And yet I just got the feeling that she did, although I couldn't place why.
"What did you see?" her voice was tight.
"Peter…he…he landed…right in front of me…and he was burned, and his bones were showing and sticking out all over the place, but he…they popped back into place and his skin healed and his hair grew. In minutes!" I exclaimed, looking over at her. Her face was twisted in what looked like pain.
"I…" she shut her mouth with a snap. "Are you sure you didn't dream that or something?"
"Then how did I know you? Or your uncle?" I quipped back. She looked over at me, startled.
"How did you know he was my uncle?"
I chuckled nervously. "We…talked a little bit." She didn't react to this information, and I wondered if she heard me, but decided not to press it.
Instead, "What…what are you guys?"
She groaned, banging her head on the steering wheel quickly, before pulling into a driveway not seconds later. She stopped the car, pulled out the keys, but didn't get out. Instead, she turned to face me in the seat.
"You're sure of what you saw? You're not crazy?" her voice sounded hopeful. But her eyes looked resigned.
"I'm positive."
She sighed, leaning back in her seat. After a moment of silence, she spoke quietly. "You can keep a secret, can't you?"
You have no idea… winced, pushing my memories back. "Yes."
"Good." With that, she got out of the car, waving me after her as she walked up to a small, modern home. I followed her inside hesitantly, looking around for any sight of Peter. She threw her keys on the table, calling out to him. "Peter?"
After a moment, silence our only answer, she sighed again. "He's probably seeing my dad off or at the hospital with Nathan or something." She turned around to look at me, but I raised my eyebrows. Before I could ask about Peter apparently having another brother, she grabbed my wrist and towed me toward the kitchen.
"Don't freak out," she warned. "I need you to do something for me, but you have to do it, okay? And, you know, not tell anyone. Then I'll explain and all that. Peter's gonna kill me…" she looked away. "Well, I guess it's technically his fault anyway." She shrugged, continuing to tug me through the high arch into a beautiful, modern kitchen. She rifled through a nearby drawer, and I stood next to the island as she pulled out a huge knife. My eyes widened as she put it in my hand and lifted up her shirt, and began to take off her white jeans.
"W—wait, what are y—you…" I began to protest, but she threw the clothes to the side, clad in a bra and boy-shorts. My face lit up like a stoplight, but she merely shrugged.
"They're new, and I didn't want to ruin them," she said as if that explained her reason for handing me an extremely large knife and then stripping. "Alright." She took a deep breath. "Stab me."
Again, I began to splutter, my eyes as wide as saucers. "W—what? You…y—you want me to…t—to what?" I said loudly.
She rolled her eyes. "Trust me. I'll be fine. Just stab me." She emphasized her point, gesturing to her tight, tanned stomach. For a moment I stared at her, wondering if she was insane, but then a wave of understanding crashed over me.
"You're like Peter," I said quietly. She nodded, but then a grin broke out on her face.
"Well, technically, Peter's like me. So come on, do it already." I gulped—knowing that she was going to regenerate didn't make me like the thought of stabbing her any more than when she had originally asked it of me.
She rolled her eyes, reaching forward and grabbing my hands, before plunging the knife into her abdomen. I watched in a nauseated horror as blood leaked out of the wound—but soon she pulled the knife out with a hiss, her eyes closed, and set it in the sink. Her injury, though, healed. I looked on in fascination as the skin knitted together like fabric, closing and healing, and all that was left was a bit of crusted blood. Not even a scar.
"Wow," I breathed, and she laughed.
"I know, right?" She turned around to the sink, grabbing the knife and washing it quickly. When she was done, she turned around and looked at me for a moment, before beckoning me across the hall, through a living room, and down another hallway to a pink and blue bedroom. She sat on the bed, patting the spot across from her. It was soft, and I immediately sank into it, leaning back against the white footboard.
She smiled, but then looked down at the floor, tracing the lines in the wood with her eyes. "Um, there's actually not a whole heck of a lot to say." She paused. "Peter and I are a part of humanity that is beginning to evolve in strange ways, giving us 'superpowers' of sorts. My power is that I can regenerate. Peter can copy other powers." She looked up at me, but I stared at her dumbly as I processed this.
There were…people out there…who had superpowers…living among us. That was so totally wacky, and yet I couldn't say that, being that I had dated a vampire. I winced, bringing my knees up to my chest and hugging them. Finally, I rested my chin between them and looked at her. "Do you believe me?"
I laughed. "How could I not? That's crazy, but I believe you. How many 'superheroes' such as yourself are there?" She giggled, rolling her eyes.
"I don't know if I'd call us that, although Peter did save the world." My mouth dropped open, and she smirked smugly for a moment. "And there's a bunch. I wouldn't be surprised if there's one in your town." I gulped, processing that.
"And…what kind of powers can you have? Is it always regeneration and absorption or…and I swear Peter flew or something," I rambled slowly.
She nodded. "My biological dad—Nathan—has the power of flight, which Peter took. But yeah, there's like, a ton." She got up and padded over to a bookshelf, still in her undergarments. She grabbed a book, rather thick, and handed it to me.
"I don't know if you like big reads, but if you do," she began, sitting back on the bed in front of me. "This gives a list somewhere in there. It kinda explains how the evolution works and all that yadda yadda." She stayed silent as I thumbed through it. I read the inside cover's description as it introduced a Dr. Chandra Suresh and his ideas and study on the human genome project. I bit my lip.
"I can't read it all here, so do you mind me taking it home? I love to read, so it'll be back to you tomorrow or something." She smiled.
"Like I touch the thing. You could throw it in a river for all I care." She laughed for a second, and surprisingly, I joined her. I genuinely joined her, laughing without telling myself to. She sobered quickly though, "But don't, 'cause it's kinda Peter's." I nodded, setting it on the floral bedspread and looking up at her. She stayed silent, just looking back at me.
"Well, since I'm already in my pajamas and don't feel like changing right now, you're stuck here for a while," she said happily. She seemed lighter, now that she had told me everything. "Unless there's any particular reason you'd wanna go home like, right now." I shook my head—home held reminders that I just didn't need. Since finding out that Claire was here, my numbness had mysteriously disappeared, and now that I was me again, I wanted to stay that way for a bit longer.
"I do need to call my dad, though," I said quietly. She nodded and pointed down the hall.
"Phone is right next to the door, behind that little patch of wall." I thanked her quietly, walking down the halls back to the door, standing behind said patch and dialing my father's number.
"Bella! Where are you?" he exclaimed when I greeted him.
"Sorry dad, I should have called," I began. "But I'm hanging out with a friend for a while…if you don't mind." He seemed shocked by this news, but recovered quickly.
"Not at all! Have fun! I love ya, Bells." And then he hung up, extremely happy to see me out of the house. I sighed, relieved that I was off the hook, but then the door opened. Two voices, one I recognized and one I didn't, sounded down the hall.
"Claire?" I could tell that was Peter. I froze and plastered myself to the wall, hoping he wouldn't see me.
"Claire-Bear?" another voice said. I bit my lip, torn between humor and terror. I wasn't sure if I was welcome in this house by Peter, and I didn't want to upset anyone. So I'd just wait for Claire to come out.
She took an insanely long amount of time to bound down the hall—or maybe that was just me? Either way, I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief as she said hi to both of the men—calling one of them dad. That was when I wondered if and why Claire had been adopted…she had called Nathan her biological dad, but this 'dad' of hers couldn't be him, as he was most likely still in the hospital. But then again, it had been a week. I would just have to ask…
Finally, Claire said, "Hey, I want ya'll to meet my new friend." She appeared next to me, grabbing my wrist. I hung up the phone, following her out of the shadows and straight into the view of Peter and his unknown friend. Peter's eyes widened almost comically while the other man—Claire's dad—narrowed his own. "This is Bella." The baggy shirt she must have just thrown on rustled as she gestured to me.
"I know," Peter said tersely, his eyes flickering between Claire and I. The other man took his scrutinizing eyes off of me, looking over at Claire.
"Just how good of a friend is she, Angel?" I could see worry in his eyes. Claire smiled and winked at him.
"We just met. Two perfectly normal girls, just hanging out like any other teenagers would." She shot me a glance, and I knew that she didn't want her father to know that I knew about her. I mentally chuckled at the tongue twister, sticking out my hand to shake his.
"I'm Bella Swan, and it's nice to meet you…"
"Noah Bennet." He smiled tightly at me, shaking my hand firmly, and letting it fall. I nodded to Peter, who returned the gesture, and Noah looked at Claire. "Are you sure you wanna stay here, sweetheart? You could always come back with your mother, Lyle and I. You know that, right?"
She nodded happily, hugging him. "I know. I'll call regularly, but I really wanna get to know some of my biological family."
Noah nodded, and I saw tears behind his glasses. "I'll miss you, honey. But I do have to go now." With one last hug, he kissed her temple, said goodbye to Peter and me, and shut the door with a soft click.
I looked over at Peter warily, to find the same look in his eye as he appraised me. I simpered, but he didn't budge. Claire broke the silence.
"So…you don't mind if we throw your book in a river, do you?"