12. FATE
"SO, DRIVING OR FLYING?" ALICE INQUIRED AS WE STOOD IN FRONT OF THE
Champs Elysees Plaza and waited for the elderly doorman to hail us a cab. I thought for a moment. Driving might be more fun -- and more comfortable -- but flying would take us farther quicker. Now that we were outside (standing under the purple-and-cream-striped awning, covered from head to toe in clothing and gloves and hats -- I even had a thin scarf wrapped around my neck, though the temperature was in the eighties, to cover the skin that might otherwise be exposed, as I had only donned a baseball cap and not the wide-brimmed straw-and-ribbon number Alice wore. Paris in the summer. Brilliant idea, I thought.), the serenity and contentment I felt in the honeymoon suite had ebbed quickly away. It was easy to imagine, in that romantic, soothing, little room, that Alice and I were alone in the world, perfectly safe and happy in the protective darkness. Now that we were surrounded by sunlight and busy humans -- many who stared at the curiously overdressed tourists waiting for a taxi -- I was feeling more and more uneasy with every second. Despite the fact that Alice had still seen no change in the Volturi's movements, I just couldn't bring myself to take the chance. Why risk it? We were getting out of France, and fast.
"Flying," I answered firmly. I thought I heard a soft sigh.
We returned to the airport and strode up to the Departing Flights screens. I resolved to try to make this as enjoyable as possible. We wouldn't be staying in Paris, but this could still be a wonderful anniversary trip.
"See anything you like?" I asked, pulling off the gloves and scarf now that we were inside and behind thickly tinted plate glass. Alice deliberated for a while, looking at all the departures.
"Hmm, there's a flight to Berlin in a couple hours. But it's so crowded in the summer. We could go to Copenhagen ... but that flight doesn't leave until tonight." She continued to list the possible places we could go and the reasons why they weren't suitable. I sighed loudly.
"Ready?" I said, closing my eyes. I pointed my index finger, twirled it around in a circle, and moved my hand forward until it bumped against a screen. I opened my eyes. "We were leaving it up to Fate, remember?"
"Minsk?" Alice asked doubtfully.
"Minsk is a big city," I offered, shrugging, "They'll have shops."
Alice rolled her eyes. "Do you know most Americans have never even heard of Belarus?"
I smiled and began to pull her toward the appropriate airline. "Then we won't run into anyone we know... That's a sad commentary on high school geography, by the way."
Alice frowned, but walked along with me. Minsk would be no Paris or Berlin, but it was rich in history and tradition, and neither of us had ever been there. Besides, it might be kind of nice to go somewhere a little more secluded, away from the swarms of tourists that always descended upon the more popular European destinations in the summer.
We purchased our tickets, checked our luggage, and headed back through the airport toward our terminal. Luckily we didn't have to wait long to board -- we had arrived just in time. It was quickly apparent Minsk was not quite the ultimate vacation destination Paris had been; the plane was a quarter empty. Alice kept shooting me accusing glares as it became more and more clear no more passengers would be boarding. But, as business class was all that had been available and fewer passengers meant more space and fewer tantalizing heartbeats, I leaned back contentedly -- the quarter inch or so that constituted "reclining" in a business class seat -- and sighed ostentatiously, placing my hands behind my head and closing my eyes.
"Oh!" Alice huffed and turned her back to me as much as she was able, pulling out her magazine and concentrating decidedly upon it. I worked very hard to swallow the chuckle that built in my throat. Alice would forgive me. I'd find some fabulous little boutique where she could buy out the store and supply our entire family with a unique new wardrobe for the fall semester, and she'd be entirely satisfied. I saw her shoulders relax slightly and I guessed she had seen an image of just such a future. I smiled, leaning my head against her shoulder. She didn't shove me off or wriggle out of the way, so I assumed I was already forgiven. This would be nice. We could stay in town for a couple of days, then maybe venture out into the ancient European forests and hunt. We could be utterly and completely secluded for a while, just me and the love of my life and beautiful tall untouched trees... With images of the romantic and private time we would share dancing through my head, the plane left the runway, and I barely noticed the burning ache in my throat for the five and a half hours it took to fly from France to Belarus.
By the time we exited the plane Alice was in much higher spirits, though she continued to pretend to be upset by our less than vogue destination. I guessed she was trying to milk my guilt for all it was worth so I'd let her shop as much as possible. She had struck up a conversation with a very sophisticated middle-aged woman aboard the plane -- who was also complaining about the lack of first-class accommodations -- about the fashion districts in Minsk and the best stores to patronize. She had come away with a veritable mental guide book of stores to visit, and it was all I could do to convince her to check into a hotel and unload our luggage before we began the shopping spree.
As our taxi drove through the sprawling city, it became apparent that despite Alice's constant complaints, Minsk was a metropolis with a combination of new and old world culture that I found quite charming. Most the architecture looked Russian, reminding me strongly of St. Petersburg. White seemed to be the paint or stone color of choice; nearly every building was tall and white and spired, many with bulbous rounded turrets. The only other color choice seemed to be a brick orange, and it was peppered throughout the city on the newer, less grand buildings. Throughout the whole capital was an aura of another era, an ancient timelessness we just didn't have in the states. The oldest buildings America could boast were no more than three or possibly four hundred years old. In Europe the buildings had stood tall for a thousand years or more, since history had been recorded. It was amazing. Incredible, knowing you were walking past the very buildings kings and czars and rebels had trodden past. I always felt a bit awed when I was in Europe surrounded by such history, but it was easy to forget about the sheer age of some of your surroundings in, say, Paris or London, where modern culture and architecture were so prevalent. As a smaller hub, Minsk seemed to retain more of that old world feeling than its more popular counterparts. I took in the city happily, committing all the incredible towers and plazas and churches to my picture perfect memory. I thought maybe we should take some actual photographs, if we wanted anyone besides Edward to be able to see what we were seeing.
We found vacancies (I had ignored Alice's grumbled, "No surprise,") at the stylish Europe Hotel and we dropped our luggage off in the room. The sun was just setting and the streets were shrouded in shadow, so I had no excuses for keeping Alice inside the room. She dragged me from shop to shop selecting clothing and accessories not only for us, but for Bella, Rosalie, Esme, Renesmee, Edward, Emmett, Carlisle, and even Jacob. I wondered idly whether Jacob would actually wear garments Alice had selected for him, but realizing she'd buy them either way I kept the thought to myself. Finally, as all the stores were closing their doors and shuttering their windows, laden with so many bags and boxes it was impossible to be inconspicuous, we headed back to the hotel.
"We're going to have to buy another body bag to fit all this stuff in," I groaned as I surveyed the sea of purchases that took over our living room.
"But no one else at Dartmouth will have this," Alice cooed as she held up a delicately embroidered peasant blouse, fingering the intricate needlework. "And this," she added, dropping the shirt back into its bag and pulling out a soft brown sweater made from local sheep's wool, "will go beautifully with Nessie's eyes..."
I exhaled loudly and dropped onto the rather stiff sofa. It didn't give like the familiar white couch in the Forks house.
"Oh, don't pout. I bought you some things, too."
"Great," I mumbled, rolling my eyes. Just what I needed, more runway attire. To my surprise, though, Alice pulled something pink and billowy out of a paler pink bag with flowers and loopy writing embossed on the side. My frown broke into a hopeful smile as I realized what she had purchased "for me."
"Well, I guess the day wasn't completely wasted," I grinned, straightening up enthusiastically. I didn't waste much time wondering how and when Alice had bought more lingerie without me noticing.
"One condition," she sang, flitting lightly around the bags and over to the couch. She threw herself gracefully across my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck and looking up into my face. The soft breezy fabric in her hands brushed against the bare skin of my neck, sending an enthralling chill down my body. For a moment the light was reflected in Alice's golden eyes and I saw, for the millionth time, her pure and beautiful soul. I didn't ask about the condition, I just waited for her to continue. I knew I wasn't going to like her request, whatever it was, but I also knew I would give in.
"There are three or four places we didn't get to today--"
I groaned, "How are there any stores left in all of Belarus after today?" But I considered for a moment. I knew I would give her what she wanted regardless, but maybe I could get something -- else -- out of this too. "Okay," I said smoothly, standing and carrying her in my arms toward the TV. She looked confused but intrigued. If the decision depended upon her, and she had made no decision yet, she couldn't see what was coming, "We'll buy out the town tomorrow -- keeping all of the Minsk fashion industry in business through the rest of the year, no doubt -- but Wednesday we go there."
I nodded to a brochure for the Belavezhskaya Pushcha National Park that lay on top of the television. I had heard of the place before; it was a few days drive from Minsk, but it boasted the only surviving primeval forest in the world. It was immense and many areas had been untouched for millions of years. Just to set foot under such trees would be an awe-inspiring experience, even more incredible than walking through the streets trodden by kings -- we'd be walking through the woods trodden by dinosaurs! And even better, as I recalled they had a problem with an overabundance of wolves killing off the endangered bison that were native to the area. It would be perfect!
Alice reached for the brochure and flipped through it, unsure at first, but soon I saw her expression soften for the smallest fraction of a second. She immediately resumed her frown -- again I surmised she was employing her poker face -- but she sighed, setting the brochure back upon the television and twining her arms around my neck.
"All right, if that's what you want to do. It's only fair, I suppose, and we will have to hunt at some point."
I growled playfully at her and nuzzled her throat, giving her a light nip. A mock hunt. I walked toward the bedroom, far less impressive than the one in Paris, but Alice wriggled out of my arms and dashed into the bathroom before I crossed the threshold.
"I didn't buy this to have it wasted, too!" She shouted from behind the closed door. I laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed. I could be patient.
* * * *
"When do I get to drive?" I grumbled, though I wasn't really upset. Watching Alice's enthralled face light up as we flew down the abandoned expressway from Minsk to Kamieniuki, the little town on the edge of the National Park, in the sleek red Audi R8 we had been unbelievably lucky to acquire in Minsk, was more exhilarating than actually driving myself. Despite its clear inferiority to the Porsche, Alice had willingly dropped enough cash to keep the rental place in the green for the next five fiscal years. We could easily have rented ten much more practical cars for the price Alice paid for this one, but as I watched her joyful smile and sure hands as we raced down the asphalt, I couldn't help but feel that it had been money well spent.
"If I have to go all the way to deserted Kamieniuki, the least you can do is let me drive," she sniffed, but I thought I saw her mouth twitch as she suppressed her smile. I nestled back into the leather seat, my elbow leaning out the open window (I figured it was deserted enough -- and we were moving fast enough -- that the glinting of the sunlight off my skin would go unnoticed, or at least unexplained. And how often did we get to do this? Barrel down a highway with beautiful scenery, a clear blue sky, and no one in sight with the windows down and the wind blowing in our hair? Even Alice had rolled her window down and was letting the wind ruffle her locks into a beautifully messy tumble of ebony. It would only make her look like a windswept model fresh off a photo shoot.). The wind swirled her scent past me and I breathed deeply, the knot in my stomach tightening and flipping. I moved my left hand and placed it upon her denim-clad thigh, patting her softly. She smiled as she shifted into the next gear and pressed her foot down harder on the accelerator.
When the sun had set, risen again, and was waning the next day, we arrived at the outskirts of the Belavezhskaya Pushcha National Park. The woods were thick and the trees were tall and knotted, not as green as Forks, but they seemed more solid somehow. There seemed to be a weight of ancient mystery beyond their tight-knit branches, but it might have just been my imagination.
Not interested in the well-trodden trails and gift shops populated by tourists, Alice found a circuitous road and drove around the edges of the park. She took this turn-off and that dirt road -- the Audi was not made for off-roading -- until at last we arrived in a tiny rustic town surrounded by tall dark trees. Looking around at the dense gloomy vegetation I was reminded of the image "Peter and the Wolf" always evoked in my head. I wasn't sure if these were the primeval oaks I had come to see -- they didn't look that much more impressive than the cedars in Fork -- but I was happy to give the poor Audi a break.
I stepped out of the car, walking at human speed to open the door for Alice and then back to the trunk to pull out the dark car cover. It looked like automobiles were rare here, in this little agrarian village, and a shiny red sports car stuck out like a sore scarlet thumb. I glanced around, wondering if we should have parked a mile or so down the road and come in on foot.
I didn't usually question Alice, and I was all for a sleepy little herding village, but it seemed like an odd choice for the fashionista. This town looked like something straight out of a gypsy movie or turn-of-the-century painting. There were one or two rusted and faded working trucks, kin to Bella's old Chevy I thought, but other than that I saw no signs of automotive use. The road was dirt and muddy, and it was barely wide enough for one car. There were bicycles and carts along the sides of buildings, and I assumed this was the common mode of transportation. One set of power lines could be seen coming into the town from the very road we had traveled down, as well as one set of phone lines. The area we now stood in was a bit of a clearing with trees and brush encroaching on every side, already beginning to take back the ancient land that had once belonged to them. There was a large wooden building in front of us, rather like an old inn from black and white movies set in Elizabethan England. To the right and left and for a mile or so down the street were a number of smaller buildings, shops and tenant houses, I guessed. Dead chickens dangling by their feet and bundles of vegetables actually hung from the doorway of one of the shops. It was amazing. A city that time had forgotten. Practically the Europe of the nineteenth century. The awe I had felt at the sheer history and age of the buildings in Minsk was different than the awe I felt now. Things didn't seem old here, rather it was as though we were in this time period, a hundred or so years ago. Things did not seem ancient, rather they were new and just not of this century. It was like stepping out of a time machine except for the subtle reminders such as the cars and power lines. I realized the Audi was not just ostentatious here, it was futuristic. I looked at Alice as she walked to my side, my eyebrow raised in question.
"You wanted secluded," she said, leading me toward the larger building. With a start I realized it was an inn. I wondered how they kept in business out here -- I highly doubted this town was on any map.
"Should I get the trunk?" I wondered as we maneuvered around the mud puddles and stepped onto the wide wooden porch that led into the inn.
"Hmm, that would be more normal, wouldn't it? Well, let's see if they'll take us first," Alice mused, though I was sure she had already seen that they would take us, or why had she bothered coming here?
I opened the heavy rough-hewn door for her and we walked into the inn in the town that time had forgotten. The inside was not a disappointment. The first floor seemed to be the village saloon, practically everything carved and created from wood. In fact, the only colors other than the oakey brown of the building, furniture, and sparse decorations, were the dingy clothes and dirty skin of the people. There were twenty or so patrons in here, mostly grizzled men with shaggy beards and soiled clothes. Most the fabric looked homespun, though one or two of the younger males appeared to be wearing ratty t-shirts under their thin coats. The mystery of how the inn stayed in business was suddenly clear. A long bar ran along the wall and there were tables and chairs arranged around the room where the men were seated, some eating, all drinking a sickly brown liquid out of glass mugs. A plump red-faced woman in a grimy dress that had perhaps once been red stood behind the bar drying a glass on her apron. Everyone stopped talking and turned to look at us as we walked in. I was sure I had seen this moment in an old western, when the new well-intentioned sheriff strides into the saloon looking for the outlaw, and all eyes are on the newcomer waiting for trouble. The place even smelled of tobacco, strong liquor, and cut wood. I took a step forward, placing myself protectively in front of Alice.
"Russian," she whispered to me, pulling on my arm, "See if they speak Russian." For some reason still unbeknownst to me, Alice had {passed up/by} the rather useful languages of, say, Russian or German, or even Norwegian or Japanese, in favor of, in my opinion, much less advantageous languages such as Arabic, ancient Greek, and Crimean Gothic. I had always been a little amused by her ... less popular choices -- they seemed another quirk, another endearing idiosyncrasy in her character -- but they were certainly rather impractical. Though I spoke far fewer languages than anyone else in my family, aside from Emmett, at least the ones I did know were useful, I thought. Still, when it came to Russian my vocabulary was rather limited. I was certainly no Edward or Carlisle when it came to linguistics. I credited the little Russian I did speak to my brief fascination with the Russian Revolution, being generally interested in all things war. I bit my lip as I tried to recall the proper syntax and pronouns for what Alice wanted me to say.
"Um," I ground my teeth, then straightened up and smiled, trying to look confident and friendly. These were the sorts of people I imagined grabbing their pitchforks and torches to lynch monsters just like us. I'd bet they actually had pitchforks, too. Not that farm tools -- or any humans wielding them, for that matter -- worried me much, but I didn't relish the thought of bringing the Volturi to investigate the strange rumors of super-humans I would evoke by escaping, or destroying a towns-worth of human life protecting Alice. I didn't want to become the monster again that I had buried so deeply. Better to be friendly and avoid suspicion as much as possible.
The room was tense, but oddly more curious than frightened. Humans, especially superstitious ones, were always a bit fearful of us. The natural human reaction to our kind was to be drawn to us initially, then repelled -- usually with shivers of unexplainable fear. All these people seemed more surprised by the fact that strangers were in their midst than that those strangers were superhumanly beautiful and pale.
All the people, that is, but one grizzled man in a darkened corner of the bar. He smelled slightly different than the rest of the patrons, dirtier somehow, mangy. He certainly looked dirtier. His hair was matted and disheveled and his silvery-black beard was grungy and grew sparsely, like the old gold miners and mountain men of my human life. Despite the silver strands peppered throughout his hair, it was impossible to guess at his age. His skin was dark and dirty, like the rest of the humans, but he had an agility to him, an energy that suggested he was much younger than he appeared. He glared at us with dark, glittering eyes as soon as we entered. He rose quickly, grabbed the bedraggled pack at his feet, and stomped with heavy, angry steps out the back of the bar where, I assumed from the sudden gust of fresh air, another door was located.
What a strange reaction, I thought. Rather dramatic for never having exchanged so much as a "How do you do?" with us. Maybe he was the town outcast, of sorts, cautioning his peers about the dangers of the strangers in their midst. The lone voice of reason among all the other fascinated onlookers. I couldn't blame him for his reaction. He was right to avoid us.
The rest of the townspeople continued to watch us unabashedly curious. They didn't seem alarmed or rattled by their fellow's response. I allowed a little peace and calm to creep over them all, just in case the shivers and pitchforks were coming. The patrons' postures and breathing relaxed, but they continued to stare openly at us as I addressed myself to the woman behind the bar, who I ascertained was the innkeeper.
"Vwee gevareetzea na Ruskum yesekyeh?" I asked, though I was sure my accent was terrible.
She nodded, but still didn't speak.
"Ask her if we can have a room," Alice prompted. I wondered if this was really a place we wanted to stay, but I cleared my throat and asked amiably.
"Yeest dahstukneh kohmnahta?"
The woman only nodded again and continued to stare. I waited patiently, smiling politely, being careful not to flash my teeth too much.
"Mahts," a young man in his twenties or so, walked toward the woman. She didn't look at him, but he put his hand on her shoulder and moved his eyes to us apologetically. "I'm sorry, we do not get many visitors here," he spoke in a deep staccato voice, thickly accented.
"You speak English?" I asked, relieved. My Russian was conversational at best. It wouldn't be hard for Alice to surpass me, should she ever have the inclination.
"A little," the boy smiled.
"Well, we would like a room if possible," I continued, pulling out my wallet. I made it a habit never to carry more than a thousand dollars on me. I knew I wouldn't be pickpocketed or lose it, but when humans saw a thick wad of cash in an American's wallet, they tended to be rather unscrupulous with their charges. The boy's eyes widened as he saw the colorful Euros.
"Yes," he replied a little hesitantly, "You are lost?" The way his tone raised at the end made this a question. I chuckled and shook my head. This was an easy conclusion to come to, and I instantly liked the boy for his honesty in trying to make sure we really wanted to be here.
"No, we wanted something ... different," I gestured to Alice, "We wanted to go where there were not so many people."
I heard the boy's heart stutter and looked down at Alice. She was flashing him a brilliant smile. Why didn't her teeth scare people? I kicked her stiletto boot with my foot so swiftly that the humans did not notice any movement. Alice dimmed the smile a bit, but other than that she gave no sign that she understood my cautioning blow. Irrepressible, I thought.
The boy nodded then spoke to his mother in rapid Russian. I picked out a few of the words as he explained what we wanted and why we were here. It was impossible not to notice that every person in the room was eavesdropping on his conversation. With an effort the woman plastered a welcoming smile on her face and began to prattle on in a fashion that I doubted I would have understood even if I had been a native speaker. She bustled about grabbing a plain brass key and leading us up the stairs, pointing and gesturing as she did so. The boy followed behind us, shaking his head and shooting us apologetic glances whenever we caught his eye. The big woman nearly filled up the narrow hallway as she led us to, what I gathered, was the nicest room in the place. Her scent permeated the cramped space, but as the enticing scent of her blood was nearly overpowered by the smell of smoke, whiskey, and vinegar, it was quite easy to ignore the dull burn in my throat. Our room was at the very end of the hall and had a large window that overlooked the encroaching forest. Perfect, I thought. Easy access in and out of the building without being seen. We could feign a desire to hike, of course, but if we wanted to leave the room in the middle of the night or something, it might look a little odd.
The woman said something to us and backed out of the room.
"She will get ... how you say?" He moved his hands rapidly through his hair, back and forth, then rubbed them over his arms. I looked at him blankly. The woman reappeared though, carrying two thick white towels in her arms.
"Oh, towels," I smiled in thanks as she set them on the bed.
"Tow-els," the boy repeated, committing the new word to memory. "Bathroom is there," he pointed to a door down the hallway and I thought fleetingly that it was a good thing we didn't really need a bathroom. If Alice had been human she would have hated this place. "We make food down there," he pointed to the floor, meaning, I assumed, that the inn served food as well as liquor.
"Thank you," I said, handing him three hundred Euros. His eyes widened and he backed out of the room, apparently in shock. The ruddy-faced woman followed him, stealing furtive glances back at us as she walked away, forgetting to close the door behind her.
"Well, I guess they didn't notice the lack of luggage," Alice trilled, inspecting the room with a wrinkled nose as I lightly shut the door.
"I'll go get it in a bit," I sighed, sitting on the old-fashioned brass bed. I had wanted to see the woods and all, but this seemed a strange destination. Alice appeared to read my thoughts.
"It's the only close place with a ... hotel," she said the last word with distaste, as you could hardly call this place a hotel. Still, I thought as I looked around the small room, it was clean and we wouldn't really be in here much anyway. The building seemed to be made entirely of wood and either for personal tastes or lack of funds, none of it had been painted. It was like a rustic log cabin in the woods, the walls and floors and ceiling made from planks of light wood full of knots and dark spots and some rough edges. The bed seemed to be the only thing that wasn't made of wood. A wooden chair that I was sure was hand carved sat in the corner of the room near the window and a small wooden dresser was against the wall next to the bed. There was an electric lamp upon it and an ashtray. I lay back on the faded white quilt of the bed and examined the grains and knots of the wooden beams in the ceiling. I felt the mattress sink a little as Alice lay next to me, looking up too. "So this is where you want to spend your anniversary, is it?"
I rolled my eyes. "You chose it."
"It was the only place available."
"Well, when the townsfolk--" she giggled at my pitchfork and torches reference
"--have gone to sleep, we'll go check out the forest. I'm sure that will be worth it."
The dark would make no difference to us; we could see as clearly at night as we could during the day. Only the colors and shadows changed. We lay on the bed for a while in silence, both of us lost in thought. Finally Alice sighed.
"Well, if we're going hiking I'll want to change."
I chuckled. Any excuse to model something new. I rose from the creaky mattress and walked toward the door.
"I'll go get the trunk."
Alice nodded and continued to frown as she rose and danced around the room, attempting to rearrange the sparse furnishings and decorations to make it more to her five-star liking. I shook my head in mock exasperation as I closed the door behind me and headed down the narrow hallway back toward the stairs and first floor. It would have been quicker to just go out the window, but it was more prudent to let the humans see me bringing in our luggage. We were strange enough to them without adding miraculous wardrobe changes to the list.
I started lightly down the stairs, wondering when I should make some noise so as not to startle the humans, but as I hit the second step I froze in my tracks, a statue chiseled from the hardest marble -- our kind's natural reaction to stress. I stared in shock and horror and my breath caught in my chest. A breadth of a second later Alice was behind me, frozen in place just as I was as she looked under my arm. She must have just had a vision of this moment.
As we stared at her, the other vampire turned slowly on her bar stool to stare back at us. I couldn't believe it. I was so shocked by her presence that all I noticed was her pale face framed by dark hair and burgundy eyes. Was this the spy the Volturi had sent to watch us? How had she found us? What did she want? What did she mean to do? If she attacked, I could certainly defend us -- even without Alice's help I could rip every limb from this stranger's body and burn her to ashes with her own bar stool before she took two steps. But I couldn't do it without the twenty-odd humans noticing. I didn't want to kill them all, too, but I certainly couldn't guarantee their safety if it came to a battle with another immortal. And then, what if one of us inadvertently spilled their blood? I thought I was strong enough to keep focused long enough to kill the stranger, but after that? Would I be strong enough to leave this place without feeding? My jaw locked like a steel trap. A good soldier knew his strengths as well as his weaknesses. I would not be strong enough, I knew it. And then what? The pitchforks and torches and a quick get away in the rental car and hopefully a hasty retreat back to Forks? No, I couldn't go back after that -- I would have broken the law. The Volturi would have a legitimate reason to attack the Cullens if I returned. I knew I'd never talk Alice out of leaving me for her own safety, but I would spare everyone else. We'd have to run...
All this flashed through my mind in less than half a second. The vampire on the bar stool had not moved, and the humans seemed to notice nothing amiss. I stayed frozen, not knowing quite how to proceed. I felt a little fear from the stranger, a little shock, a little excitement. I was puzzled. What did that mean? Surely a Volturi spy would feel that unnatural assurance they all seemed to feel, that sense of completely righteous justification. Perhaps some excitement for the fight, maybe fear at the sight of me -- most vampires had that reaction to me initially. It was clear I was experienced in battle, clear I was a survivor, clear I was dangerous. Still, her fear seemed like that of a child being introduced to a new intended playmate. Perhaps shy was a better word. And the excitement had no edge of malice to it. In fact, there seemed to be no feeling of aggression in her at all.
The seconds ticked by, and still I did not move. I just wasn't sure what to do. Alice seemed to be waiting to follow my lead. After all, I was the warrior, the protector. This was supposed to be my area of expertise. Should I grab Alice and run? Leave our things and try to make it to the Audi before the stranger caught up to us? Would she follow? If she knew our destination, she had a much clearer path to the car than we did. If a fight was inevitable, perhaps it would be best to lead her outside, away from the humans. At least that way when it was over Alice and I could still -- hopefully -- return to Forks with no fear of Volturi enforcement... My mind whirled with indecision as my body remained frozen, my {insides at odds with my outsides.}
Then the stranger did something that would have nailed me to the floor had I not already been frozen in tension. She smiled. Her smile was so warm and brilliant that all my tense defensiveness felt suddenly brittle, as though she were melting away my fears. Instantly I felt a sort of protectiveness for her, reminiscent of the way I had felt for Alice when we had first met. I couldn't explain the feeling and I thought, as I had with Alice, that perhaps this girl had some sort of power that bewitched people, made them let down their guard. Alice's soft hand on my back made me resolve that letting down my guard was the last thing that was going to happen, whatever this girl's powers. I decided I would see what she wanted, but cautiously. There would be no way this little creature could do much damage to me, but if she were indeed sent by the Volturi, Alice might be her real target. Small as this female was, Alice was smaller. Alice's gift made her a formidable opponent, but if it came to sheer strength, this stranger would have her beat. If somehow she got around me...
I took each step slowly, with precision. I never moved my eyes from the girl, though my peripheral vision and my gifts took in the movements and the atmosphere of the rest of the room. The humans still seemed to notice nothing odd, but maybe Alice and I were being too quiet. That was all right with me. The longer we went unnoticed by them, the safer they were. The girl rose very slowly from her stool, being careful not to alarm us. Two predators approaching another of their kind, a sort of tense but polite dance.
Now that she was standing and I was over my initial shock, I took in more of the stranger's appearance. She was about five foot four with long thick black hair that fell to the middle of her back. It seemed it would be curly if it were not pulled down with such weight -- the ends curled under in a very model-esque sort of way. Her face was rounded and pale, as all our skin was, and her eyes were big and dark, framed by a thick fringe of long lashes. She was wearing a simple blue dress that looked, like most the clothing in this room, homemade, but her clothes were clean and fresh, as though they were newer and had seen less wear than the other garments. For all her prettiness, she could not quite be called beautiful. She must have been at least fourteen or so when she was changed -- her body had the soft curves of a woman -- but her face and her demeanor seemed like that of a young child. Not immature, but sweet and innocent. I imagined everyone's natural reaction to her was protectiveness. She looked so ... childlike.
I sensed rather than heard Alice behind me. I made sure she stayed there, that I was between her and this cherubic stranger. I cocked my head a fraction of an inch, inviting the girl to speak. When she did her voice was high and ringing, like a schoolgirl singing.
"Hello," she said in shy, accented tones. So she knew something about us, at least. She knew we spoke English. What else did she know?
I nodded in greeting, but didn't speak. She hesitated, then took a small step closer to us. I didn't move. I was already tensed for battle, for anything.
"My name is Kristalene. Your name?" she asked politely, gesturing to us. Her English seemed better than the innkeeper's son's. I hesitated. I could feel no threat from her. She was a child, innocent and pure and simply curious. But it could be a trick. I had to keep focused, keep on my guard. I didn't answer. Finally I heard Alice's silver voice as she stepped to my side. I immediately put my arm in front of her to keep her behind me, keep her where I could protect her. She didn't push past me, but she didn't return to her place of safety either.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kristalene. My name is Alice and this is Jasper."
I waited for the girl's reaction. She seemed to relax a bit. The fear in her was ebbing, though she eyed me with some slight apprehension. She smiled at Alice and again I felt my anxiety melting.
"Why are you here?" I asked pointedly. Alice nudged me softly, apparently embarrassed by my rudeness. I ignored her. The girl looked at me, sincere surprise on her face.
"I ... live here," she answered, puzzled. It was my turn to look surprised.
"Live here?" I repeated. Her eyes were clearly a deep crimson, a sign that she was not a "vegetarian" as we were. How could she live here if she fed on human blood? I felt her emotions again. There was nothing but honesty and curiosity in her, excitement.
"Yes. I was born a mile and a half down that road," she motioned to the east. I assumed she meant the narrow road I had seen that led past the shops and housing. "I grew up here. My sister still lives in the house."
"I ... don't understand," I admitted, my brow puckering. She didn't seem to be lying, but how could this be the truth? If she had been recently reborn -- recent enough that her sister would still be alive -- how could she live here without attracting attention to herself? Even if she were no longer a newborn, as was evidenced by the dark tint to her irises, if she fed on humans how could these villagers sit here so calmly in her presence, as though nothing were unusual? As though this were all perfectly natural? It should have been eerie -- like a child serial killer -- the thought that this young girl lived and murdered in this town, walking among the humans without them ever suspecting that behind her innocent smile was the heart of a monster. But it wasn't. I simply could not feel anything but protectiveness and curiosity for her. I shoved the ludicrous feelings back inside. I knew nothing of this stranger, and I would not let down my guard until I was certain she meant us no harm. I tested her emotions again, probing, trying to ferret out any feelings she might be trying to keep hidden. But there was nothing else there, I was sure of it.
Kristalene glanced over her shoulder, noting that the large red-faced innkeeper woman was watching us.
"Perhaps over here," she motioned to a small rounded wooden table in a darkened corner of the bar. The humans would not be able to hear us there. I nodded and followed her to the table, never taking my eyes off of her. It would have been unbearable for me to have an unknown vampire at my back, to be left vulnerable. Perhaps this girl really was as naive as she looked, for she did not feel any fear about the situation. I didn't understand.
She slid lithely into the handmade oak chair, looking expectantly at me and Alice. Alice smiled and sat across from her. Maybe she had seen visions of this girl, seen that she meant us no harm. Alice wasn't worried or frightened either -- she seemed as eager and intrigued as the stranger. I seated myself grudgingly and looked fixedly at the girl. She coiled a strand of her long, thick hair around her delicate finger absently.
"I was born in this town about thirty years ago," she began, watching mine and Alice's reactions. I kept my face expressionless. She continued, "I lived with my mother and sister -- my father died when I was young. We were quite happy, though, the three of us. Very close."
She smiled at us again, a little hesitantly, apparently looking for encouragement. I didn't move, but Alice smiled warmly at her and nodded. I wanted to glare at Alice for being so reckless, but I refused to take my eyes off the girl.
"I was out in the forest one day, gathering dry wood for the fire, when I saw her. She was so beautiful," she looked past us now, lost in the memory. So this was how she was changed. I knew how she felt. I remembered Maria, Nettie, and Lucy and how they had appeared to my human eyes. I waited silently.
"I thought she must be an angel -- she sparkled in the sunlight and she was so lovely. But then I saw her eyes. Red and glowing, like the eyes of Satehna, the devil. I was afraid then. I dropped the wood and I tried to run. Of course," she smiled wryly, glancing at us again, "I didn't get very far. She caught me. She threw me into a boulder. I lost consciousness -- I don't know for how long -- and then I began to feel the oguom, the fire. It was such pain! I yelled and screamed for the devil to kill me, to end my torture. But she did not. I thought she must have already taken my soul to Hell. I found out later I was in the woods for four days, all the while thinking I was burning in Aht. Finally, though, the pain ended, my heart stopped, and when I awoke I was new."
She seemed to search our faces, looking for understanding. Alice nodded kindly, though I knew she remembered nothing of her own transformation. I suppressed a shudder. I remembered it all too clearly.
"There was new sight to my eyes, new smell to my nostrils, new thirst in my throat. I did not know what had happened, and Satehna was gone, but I was so thirsty -- my throat burned like the fire still raged there."
I swallowed to quench the fire in my own throat, grinding my teeth in annoyance at my own weakness.
"I heard my sister, Anya, calling for me, though she must have been a mile away. At first I began to go to her -- I did not know how long I had been gone, but I knew she must be so worried. But when I saw her, my throat burst into flames. I was far enough away that her scent had not reached me, praise God, but just the sight of her..."
She put her head in her hands, as though admitting the darkest of secrets. Alice reached her hand toward her, as if to pat her soothingly, but decided to just rest it upon the table. I stared at the girl incredulously. Hadn't she just told us her sister still lived? Did she have another sister? As a newborn how could she have resisted attacking, even if it was her own sister? Was it possible that Bella's self-restraint was not as rare as I had convinced myself? For goodness' sake, were any newborns as bloodthirsty as I had been?
"What happened?" Alice prompted softly, trying to soothe the girl with an almost maternal understanding. The way mothers encouraged their small children to admit to a neighbor they had unintentionally broken a window.
Kristalene met Alice's gaze as though she were that child, but somewhat defiant. The child insisting to her mother that she hadn't broken the window at all. "I ran." She said simply, raising her chin. I clenched the table in exasperation and it gave a little crack as I snapped off an edge. It was hard for me to doubt the girl's sincerity now, but for Pete's sake! How could they all just run away?!
"So you didn't hurt her?" Alice asked, her tone more pleased than astonished.
"No. My throat burned, every fiber in my body ached for her blood, but she is my sister. Her blood is my blood. I made myself leave."
"But your eyes..." I interrupted. She did feed on human blood, that much was clear. I still didn't understand how she could be here if that was the case.
"Yours are strange," she replied, studying first mine and then Alice's dark golden irises. She did not seem to be evading the question, just distracted by the subject.
"Why --?" She trailed off, apparently not wanting to be impolite.
"We ... don't drink human blood." Alice answered, watching the girl carefully. Kristalene's brow furrowed in incomprehension.
"But how do you ... what ..." she seemed to be trying to phrase her question as politely as possible.
"We hunt animals," Alice answered again. "Their blood keeps us strong, though it doesn't ... taste as good," she finished.
"Animals?" Kristalene still looked puzzled as she considered this. "I never -- I never thought of that." She seemed lost in thought.
"But your eyes," I hinted, again ignoring Alice's elbowing at my brusqueness.
"Well, I do hunt humans," her look was confused, as though she did not understand my question.
"Yes. So how do you live here?"
"What do you mean?"
I huffed a little in exasperation. "I mean, if you hunt humans, how do you live in this town? The people don't seem scared of you. How do you escape detection?"
She stared at me for a moment more, still trying to understand. Then she jumped slightly, startled.
"I don't hunt these humans," she answered shrilly, as though the idea offended her, as though that point ought to have been obvious. "I have known most of these people my whole life! I would never ..." She stared at me incredulously.
I scowled. What was she talking about?
"Then who do you hunt? Where? You can't go too far if you actually live here..."
"I --" she glanced to Alice, as though looking to be sure that one of us, at least, understood. Alice smiled back kindly, though I wasn't sure if she knew what the girl was getting at either. Kristalene returned her stare to me, "I hunt others, tourists usually. There are many over by Kamieniuki. Sometimes I go over to the Bialowieska Glade, or to Bialowieza in the winter -- I can travel far if I need too. Our kind is fast," she looked me over, as though wondering whether I was unaware of this fact, too.
"So, you feed on humans but you don't hunt people you know," I summed.
"Yes," she nodded, again looking at me a bit confused -- as though I might be a little slow for not immediately grasping this.
"So what if one of these people," I gestured to the room at large, "were to have an accident? What if you smelled their blood?"
She stared at me. Was this supposed to be obvious too? "I would run away, or hold my breath. I would never harm them."
"Amazing," Alice breathed, beaming. I would swear it was maternal pride stamped on her features. Maybe this girl was some kind of bewitcher, and my hardened emotions made me more immune that open-hearted Alice. I didn't get it.
"So it doesn't bother you, taking human life, as long as the humans are strangers?" I retorted. I couldn't help it. Alice's unexplainable adoration of this girl made me defensive. Alice stomped on my foot with all her little strength and glared at me.
"Well..." Kristalene hesitated, again putting her face to her hands as though relaying an awful secret, "I never realized I had a choice," she breathed, almost inaudibly. "I thought myself rather, well, admirable for choosing to live as I have. But animals..." Again she seemed to be lost in thought.
"You are admirable, darling," Alice interjected quickly, actually placing her hand on the girl's arm now. I watched every movement with the eyes of a hawk, but it was hard to keep the feelings of defensiveness and battle-readiness in me. The girl really was just so open and honest, so young and innocent. Again I thought maybe Alice had seen something I hadn't. She had had this same reaction to Bella when Edward had first seen her -- an inexplicable familiarity and love for the human girl that seemed very odd to the rest of us, but Alice just knew more. She knew that one day she and Bella would be best friends. Just as she had known that someday she and I would be soul mates and lovers. I relaxed a bit. It was actually taking much more energy to mistrust the girl than it was to believe her -- my instincts told me she was innocent and honest, that I should protect her.
"Do..." Kristalene looked shyly at Alice, like a well-behaved child asking for a second cookie, "Do you think I could hunt animals with you?"
"Would you like to?" Alice looked like she would burst with excitement.
"I would like to try," Kristalene answered softly, "I would much prefer not to kill any humans, I just never thought...I didn't know there was a choice."
I felt all my will to distrust and dislike the girl melting away, slipping from me like water through a sieve. All the apprehension and tension and animosity -- animosity! For this innocent child! The thought seemed comical now -- was dispelled in the snap of a finger by her shy smile, by her noble desire to follow the path Alice and I had chosen, a path that was difficult and unpleasant and defied our very nature, but a path which spared human lives. It was hard to explain, even to myself, how I could be so suddenly and immediately ... fond of the child, but there it was, nonetheless. Maybe she had bewitched us both, but neither of our gifts were exposing that. She was just a lost little girl, doing the best she could, and she had already done very well. The will power it would take as a newborn, even as a mature vampire, to live day in and day out among humans -- not even depriving yourself of the taste of their blood -- and never harm one of the ones in your midst... I really was the weakest link. I'd need to rethink my outlook on our existence. Again. Still, I could feel no resentment toward this child.
As I sat there staring at her, watching Alice inch her chair closer and fawn over her, it suddenly struck me. This was exactly what I had wished for. A child. The dark thick hair, the jet black lashes, the wide, striking eyes -- the little girl that we could take in as our own and teach the ways of our family. I actually froze on the spot with the shock of it. Was it really possible?
Of course, I knew nothing of the girl. She seemed very content to live here in Belarus, in this poor little farm town. I couldn't just assume she'd want to be "adopted" simply because I had dreamed of her. She wanted to try the vegetarian lifestyle, but did that mean she would commit to it? I was already getting ahead of myself, but an image of the seraphic little girl in spotless ruffles and shiny Mary Janes, her hand linked in Alice's, traipsing through the woods around the big white Forks house flashed through my mind.
Alice noticed my statue-like pose. "Jasper?" she asked, concerned.
"I'm fine," I replied, shaking my head. "If she wants to hunt, let's go hunt."
The girl smiled at me again, stunning, brilliant -- a cherub beaming. My body filled with that inexplicable feeling it had when I met Alice -- love. And hope. Hope that we could have the family we had both dreamed of, dreamed of but never really thought could be reality. Maybe this little girl could be what made our life complete, even better than it had been before. Maybe...
I smiled back as I rose from the chair and gestured toward the heavy door.
"Ladies first," I beamed as I held the door for them. Alice took Kristalene's hand and they walked out, side by side, into the night.