Disclaimer – I do not own Twilight.

Chapter 2

HOPE

The second time she tempts me, the sun is shining brightly.

It's taunting me.

I stop by the public library in the morning to read up on a particular subject that's been bugging me for days - ever since that night in the alley. I'm not entirely sure what insight a few medical textbooks on human obsessions and addictions will have to offer, but it's worth a shot. I have to try something, anything.

I can't stop thinking about that scent I followed through the rain.

I don't have any objects that it touched, and yet the fragrance seems to linger around me. I swear I can smell it wherever I go, but it's never actually strong enough to suggest that the source is near. There's a constant pull tugging on something deep within, telling me I need to find it. I've tried to distract myself with other flavors – there's always work to be done around here, anyway – but it kind of feels like I'm a junkie that just can't quite get the right fix.

Of course, the human texts are useless. And since I'm already having such fabulous luck, it appears that the early morning clouds have cleared away to yield a perfectly sunny day. I must have forgotten – didn't think that was possible – to check the full weather report today.

Pathetic.

I waste some time wandering through the stacks, looking to see if I can find a book I haven't read yet. That's a difficult challenge, seeing as how I've been in existence longer than most of the contents of this library.

Suddenly, it hits me.

That scent!

It's very, very close, and much stronger than the other night. I have to tamp down hard on the urge to travel above human speed, lest some bystander happen to catch a glimpse. I move as rapidly as I deem to be safe, but every step feels excruciatingly slow.

This is one of those rare moments in which having all the time in the world – quite literally – is absolutely useless.

I round the corner of an isolated row and am abruptly engulfed in a thick wave of that glorious fragrance. Floating tendrils in the air surround me and pull me in, forcing venom to swiftly pool in my mouth. I swallow heavily, sweeping my head around hoping to catch a sign of the source, but am once again met with emptiness.

I scent out the point of highest concentration, near the end of the row. Closing my eyes to open up my other senses, I breathe in deeply, feeling the elixir fill my lungs. My entire body trembles with the sensation.

Imagine how it would feel to have that sweet, luscious blood instead…

Shaking my head to clear those thoughts, I trail my nose along the row of volumes lining the middle shelf, searching for the one with the strongest trace. There it is! Just as I'm tipping a small book into my hand, I detect the continuation of the scent trail, branching out past the end of the row.

And I'm off again.

No time to pause, no time to think. I just have to get there. Wherever "there" is.

The path loops back towards the front of the library, past the checkout counter, and … oh shit! My single-minded focus and haste has me catching the front door just as it's latching behind what I believe to be my target, pulling it open and taking a single step over the threshold, only to immediately retreat back inside when the brightness of the sun knocks me back into full awareness of my surroundings.

That was way too fucking close! How dangerous, that a mere scent would commandeer my senses so completely that I would be on the verge of public exposure. I quickly scan the minds of everyone within range and find, to my immense relief, that no one has noticed a thing. I sidle over to the closest window, peeking around an edge of the curtain.

Ooh, big scary vampire spying out the window at the humans with his sparkly nose on full display. Some predator you are.

There's a lone figure moving down the library steps towards the street. From my vantage point, I can see long mahogany hair flowing in waves ending just above the most delectable ass I have ever laid eyes on. An hourglass waist flows sinuously into the shapely curve of her hips, leading down to toned legs sheathed in form-fitting denim. As soon as she reaches the sidewalk, she pauses – those few seconds feel like a lifetime – and then turns around to glance back.

I swear she stares directly at me.

Although I know for a fact that human vision isn't good enough to actually see me from that distance, and the only thing she might catch is a stray reflection off of my nose, I can't help the feeling that those warm chocolate brown eyes know exactly where to look. She gazes unblinkingly in my direction for a full minute, and I find myself holding my breath in anticipation. I feel a sharp tug from that all-too-familiar pull in my chest.

Suddenly, she whips back around and rushes away, stumbling slightly, down the street and out of sight.

I stare after her, contemplating. Although I wasn't able to follow her outside, I just know, somehow, that she must be the owner of that enticing scent. After a while, I slink off to a back corner of the library, sinking into a reading chair with a huff, now thoroughly pissed off. How the hell could I be thrown off of the trail, again? It's like the heavens themselves are working against me to keep her away. I cautiously sniff the book I've still got clasped in my hand. Definitely the sweetest scent I've ever found.

I want her.

In more than one way…

I get lost for a moment in a vision of deep brown doe eyes, but then feel my own pop open wide when I happen to catch sight of the book's title.

"Supernatural Beings: Truth and Myth Revealed"

I know my mouth has dropped open in shock. Why was she reading something like this? I flip open the cover to see that only one person has ever checked it out.

Isabella Swan.

Isabella. Bella, perhaps. A lovely name – very fitting for the beautiful woman I've only caught a glimpse of.

I find the table of contents and scroll through until I see a section that catches my eye. Of course, I know all published information about us is way off the mark, on purpose, but my curiosity is piqued. I wonder if Isabella has read this part.

I flip to the center and her sweet scent drifts up at me from the pages. Yes, she was here. I start reading, just to see what nonsense this particular story is trying to sell.

No more than a few pages in, the shock has returned. Everything written here is true. Everything.

Who would be insane enough to write this? You would have to be absolutely crazy – or extremely powerful – to think you could get away with something so blatantly revealing, without having to face the consequences.

The author's name, one "Mary B." (likely a penname), doesn't ring any bells, so I turn to the back cover to see if there's a picture.

Holy shit, this is-

There's a picture, alright. And I thank…well, someone…that I have the advanced brain capacity to be able to compartmentalize everything I'm seeing.

Fact #1: The photo is of two vampires.

Two vampires, holding hands and smiling. Creepy. The girl in front is a tiny little thing, spiky black hair pointing in all directions. The size of the grin on her face suggests she's found the secret to eternal life.

Oh…right.

Well, imagine if she were a human who'd learned that secret, except without all the nasty side effects. Suffice it to say, she's pretty damn happy. It's somewhat unnerving.

This is by far the easiest detail to accept.

Fact #2: The man standing next to her is Jasper Whitlock.

The Major of the Southern Wars.

I've seen him in enough minds to be able to recognize him easily, and to want absolutely nothing to do with him. Truthfully, based on my experiences through others' memories, the mere sight of him in the photo already has me on edge. Except (or perhaps, especially) when I combine this with Fact #1.

He's smiling – quite tenderly, in fact – at the little runt. Double creepy.

In all the memories I've been privy to that featured the Major, I have never seen him with a smile. Ever. He always looks like he's about to rip you apart, put you back together, and then do it all over again – his expression a mix of angry and tortured. But here…he looks so peaceful. Like he's found exactly where he belongs.

For the second time in recent days, I find myself jealous of someone who has suffered through much greater misfortune that I could ever imagine.

It hurts.

As much as that thought stings, it's the last thing I notice that sends a sharp pang through my chest.

Fact #3: They both have golden eyes.

I haven't seen that color in years, since I've been out on my own. As much as I've tried endlessly to justify this way of life to myself, I can still barely look at my own reflection.

Red as blood.

Why can't mirrors have been one of the myths about vampires that's actually true?

The most difficult part about it is that I know I'm my only detractor. My family – god, how I miss them – would easily welcome me back with open arms, no matter what. And everybody else, well…I'm exactly what they expect me to be.

Monster.

Though I try to meet the higher expectations I've set for myself, it still doesn't feel quite right. Something has definitely been missing all this time. And as I stare at the photo in my hands, showing a man who has so clearly found and achieved a better path in life, I'm humbled. I'm awed. And I'm inspired.

Maybe…

As I continue to think about it, I start to wonder if perhaps this book was somehow left here specifically for me to find. I'm not so naïve that I can't see that all the signs are pointing directly to me. There's no one else for whom this could have even a remotely similar impact. If so, there may be a message somewhere in here, something only I could recognize.

I find the idea of a hidden message way too exciting for a man my age.

Ignoring the obvious question as to how this might have been done – my own existence makes it hard not to believe that stranger things have happened – I flip back through the book a little slower. When I reach the author's forward, I know immediately it's what I've been looking for.

To Masen –

This book was meant for you.
I think you already understand why.
In our world, anything is possible.
Don't be afraid to try.
She'll be waiting.

P.S. Happy birthday!

I ponder these words for a few minutes, before I realize something is off. If I'm to believe that I was meant to see Isabella today, and to find this book at the same time, but today is not my birthday…then it's highly possible that there's another hidden clue in here.

Why can't they just come straight out and tell me what's going on?

The book only has three hundred-odd pages, so it can't be the combination of my birth month and day. Technically I would have turned 107 on my last birthday, so I try there first. It appears to be the middle of a section called "Blood Types," and the page contains a heading and a single short paragraph.

La Tua Cantante – The "Singer"

A human whose scent is most alluring, and whose blood is sweeter
than any other. Each vampire will have their own cantante, whom
they may never meet over an eternity of searching, if their paths
or periods of existence do not cross. Once found, however, the call
of la cantante will be irresistible. Records show that no cantante
has ever survived this fateful meeting. If changed, the pull of la
cantante will become unrecognizable, and they will lose all appeal.

No, no, no. I stare at the words in horror. That can't possibly be right! This can't have all been set up so perfectly, showing Isabella to me and promising that anything is possible, just to tell me that I'm meant to destroy her. To drain the essence out of an innocent soul.

How cruel.

Frantically, I flip forward a page to see if there's anything else, any other possibilities. The beginning of the next section is very similar to what I just read, but there is also quite a significant difference.

La Tua Cuore – The "Heart"

A human whose scent is most alluring, and whose blood is sweeter
than any other. Each vampire will have their own cuore, whom
they may never meet over an eternity of searching, if their paths
or periods of existence do not cross. Once found, however, the call
of la cuore will be irresistible. La cuore is even rarer than la
cantante. Records show that only a handful of cuori have ever
been found. La cuore is essentially the completion of the soul, the
other half of one's existence. This connection can only be identified
through tasting of the blood, if the vampire finds their cuore while
human and changes them, cementing the eternal bond. A vampire
will not be able to drain their cuore, as the soul's halves will recognize
each other and will intertwine to prevent separation. If changed
by another, the pull of la cuore can still be felt similar to the more
familiar mate bond; however, the eternal soul will never be whole.

Once again, I am stunned. This sounds too good to be true. Not only that the other half of my soul could be somewhere out there – maybe even close by if Isabella is the one – but that I might have some semblance of a soul in the first place.

That is something I have never even dared to believe.

I read over the passages again and again. The descriptions are not detailed enough to tell me how to know the difference between the two – how I might be able to tell which pull I'm feeling for Isabella. And the author's cryptic hints are not clear enough to point me in the right direction.

So now, it appears I have to make what may likely be the most significant decision of my existence: Do I track Isabella down to try and figure out the answer, drawing her into the supernatural world, or do I leave her alone to live out an ordinary, human life?

Is it worth the risk to find out?

On the one hand, I might find the other half of my soul, eternal love and happiness. This is, of course, assuming that I am able to find her and that she is willing.

And on the other, I might spill the sweet blood of an innocent girl, for nothing more than a temporary high. She would have no chance of surviving.

Obviously, it's worth it. She's either your soulmate, or the most exquisite snack on the planet. Sounds like a win-win situation.

And there's that voice of reason I love so much.

The final scenario I can imagine isn't much better. If Isabella is indeed my cuore, but I never attempt to approach her, then I will be dooming us both to live out our days with our souls incomplete.

Stumped for the time being, I spend the rest of the day reading through the entire book, cover to cover, making sure I haven't missed a single detail. When the sun finally sets and it's safe for me to leave, I'm no closer to having an answer than I was before I even found the book.

I can't take any immediate action, since there's no trail left for me to follow. So, coward that I am, for now I simply decide not to decide.

After all, I don't have to choose anything if I never see her again.

Only a couple days left to vote in the Ho Hey Contest! (/u/4392156/Ho-Hey-Contest) If you have some time, check out my entry "I'm Yours", as well as all the other wonderful stories.