13. UNEXPLAINED
"SO WHERE DO YOU THINK THE BEST PLACE TO START WOULD BE?" ALICE asked the bright-eyed angel child at her side.
"I -- I'm not sure," Kristalene stammered, looking at Alice somewhat helplessly. Her expression was so perplexed that I couldn't help but chuckle.
"We're the teachers here, Alice. We should lead."
Alice nodded, grinning, "All right, what should we hunt?"
"Don't you have a problem with wolves hereabouts?" I asked hopefully. Kristalene looked a little taken aback, but she nodded.
"Yes, they attack the wisent, ah, the bison. And they are an awful nuisance to the herders. Every few years they even attack the villagers. Sometime we will find ... pieces ..." she trailed off, either in disgust or sadness, I couldn't be sure.
"Wolves, then," Alice flashed me a knowing smile. She knew my preference for wolves, and vicious man-killing wolves were even better -- not only would they be more fun to fight, I would be doing a public service. I beamed.
"Well, then, let the hunt begin," I sniffed the air. I couldn't smell anything close by except the mud and damp dirt; the cut wood and smoke and whiskey from the inn, the scent of dirty humans; the living wood of the oaks and damp brush. If we were going to find wolves, we'd need to go farther into the forest. I held my hand out to Alice.
"Which way, my dear?"
She placed her tiny doll's hand in mine and looked first north and then east. Unable to decide based on the present, she closed her eyes and looked to the future.
"North," she replied decidedly. I smiled at Kristalene's bemused expression and led the way into the northern woods. We didn't run -- there was no hurry, and no scent to follow yet anyway. Besides, despite the surprise guest in our midst, the whole point of this excursion had been to see the primeval trees. I wanted to enjoy them slowly. Neither Alice nor Kristalene seemed impatient but adjusted their steps to my pace.
We walked in silence for a while as Alice and I took in the astonishing flora. Not thirty meters from the town the trees grew tall and massive, twisted and gnarled like something out of a Halloween cartoon. The sort of trees that the frightened protagonist imagines with glinting eyes and grasping hands. The trees were not bare, though, as they would be in the cartoon, but covered with small oily leaves. The scent reminded me of home, though the oak smell in Forks was almost overpowered by the pine and Sitka aroma.
"Amazing," I breathed, as we passed a tree that must have been a good sixty feet in circumference. This regal tree had stood here since before mankind had walked the earth, before vampires. This tree had witnessed the birth and death of a thousand species, a thousand religions, a thousand wars and empires and kings... It was incredible, the thought of that much time. I had been on this earth for a century and a half -- I had no great deference for antiquity -- but this... This froze me where I stood, a marble sculpture pondering the meaning of time and space and life. How ridiculous all our human dramas were in comparison to this eternal watcher, how petty every tragedy and joy and love and life and death seemed when you considered what this everlasting sentinel had witnessed.
"It makes you feel sort of small, doesn't it?" Alice asked in a voice barely above a whisper. She was frozen in awe, just as I was. She always seemed to know what I was thinking. I saw Kristalene's amused expression in my peripheral vision, a tiny smile playing around her full, plump lips. She was used to such trees -- this was nothing new or awesome to her. I brought myself back to the present. There would be time for the trees later, after all, and I could take in the scenery as I walked. Right now we had company.
"Everything makes you feel small, " I joked, swinging Alice up in my arms and then returning her lightly to the leaf-covered ground. "Onward?"
"To the hunt!" Alice agreed with a tinkling laugh. Even distracted as I was the sound was so beautiful, so familiarly comforting, my breath caught in my chest. We continued away from the village, deeper and deeper into the thickening forest.
After a few more moments' silence I turned to Kristalene. Her story had fascinated me, but there were some holes in it, some things I still did not understand. I hoped I wasn't offending her -- or Alice -- by inquiring, but I really was intrigued now.
"So, I wanted to ask," I began, glancing quickly at Alice to make sure I wasn't going to be elbowed or stomped on again. I was more concerned about the girl's feeling now that I trusted her, was even beginning to adore her (That's silly, I told myself. You know nothing about her. Still, I couldn't deny my feelings, as absurd as they may be).
"Yes?" She encouraged, that half-smile playing across her lips.
"The one that changed you, the 'devil,' " Kristalene's lips pursed now and her brow furrowed. I continued quickly, "Why did she do it? Why did she change you if she was just going to leave?"
Kristalene was silent for a moment, her full lips pressed in a thoughtful pout.
"I don't know. I never found out, but I don't think she meant to change me. I have not met many ... like me since I changed, but there was one, two decades past, that came through Bialoweiza. He was kind and explained things to me. I had gathered what I had become -- the dead heart, the icy stone skin, the thirst for human blood -- but there was so much I did not understand. So many of the legends I had learned as a child were not true. I did not burn in the sun, running water and crosses did not harm me," she grinned suddenly, brightening the dark glade with the warmth of her smile, "I go to church with my sister every Sunday. That was certainly a surprise. I thought if any of the legends were true, the aversion to the cross would be. After all, I am ... a murderer, a taker of lives. I should be damned..." Abruptly her smile was gone and a tense pain took its place on her childlike features. Again I felt the impulse to protect her, but Alice beat me to it.
"It's not your fault. You had no choice. But if you really are that upset about what you ... have done," she said this delicately, soothingly, "then we can help you."
"Fate," I said, reaching my hand out to touch the child, to cheer her up. I wasn't sure if she was ready for that, though. There had been fear in eyes at the sight of me. I didn't want to frighten her, this lost little girl. I let my hand fall lamely at my side.
"Maybe more than fate," Kristalene whispered, looking hopefully up at me, "Maybe God has finally answered my prayers. I go to church every Sunday and pray for forgiveness. I didn't think to pray for anything else, but maybe He has forgiven me. Maybe He sent you to show me another way."
This theory took me aback and I could not keep the surprise from my face. Since my rebirth I had never been what anyone would consider religious. I knew Carlisle and Edward believed in God and maybe even Heaven and Hell, but I had always thought that it was, well, a moot point. We were never going to die, so what did Heaven and Hell matter? I had not chosen to abstain from human blood for fear that some righteous deity would sentence me to an eternity of torture and pain -- I had endured Hell on earth, and I doubted any god or demon could do worse -- I had done it because I revered human life and I wanted peace after my lifetimes of war. It might not be as, oh, admirable as Edward or Carlisle's reasons, but it had torn me apart to end those hundreds, maybe thousands, of lives; to feel their terror, their piteous fear, their hopeless anguish. At times I envied those that had been reborn without any gifts, like Peter and Charlotte; to just feed and live, thinking of the humans as no more than cattle. But perhaps I could never have been that removed. Even as a boy I had been horrified watching my father slaughter the bulls for the larder. They were living creatures after all -- I had watched them frolic in the pastures as calves, fed them sweet grain by hand as they grew, even patted and pet them when my father wasn't looking. I had grown attached, even though I knew their fate, their purpose. They only lived to die, to be sustenance for humans. Slaughtering humans was far worse. They were born to die, too, but not like this. Not in terror and panic, not ripped from their loved ones and drained to limp, ashen corpses. Living, sentient creatures were bad enough, but having to feel everything they felt, having to live their deaths with them -- it had become unbearable. I had abstained so I could live with myself. I had stuck to it for Alice.
My religious views, as they were, were much broader than Carlisle and Edward's. I might believe in Fate, in destiny. I didn't think much about God and Hell. But I certainly had faith in humanity and love. Humans were capable of appalling atrocities, but they were also capable of awe-inspiring acts of selflessness and kindness. Despite the many awful events I had witnessed, both as a human and as a vampire, I never lost faith that mankind was fundamentally good. In the way that my father and brother had never seen anything to convince them that God did not exist, I had never seen anything to convince me that people were not decent, underneath it all.
Kristalene waited for us to respond. When neither of us did she appeared a little puzzled. Alice's views weren't exactly aligned with my own, but she wasn't really religious either. I suppose you could call us both "agnostics." Kristalene shrugged and continued her story.
"Anyhow, the old one in Bialoweiza, he explained many things to me. He told me that the bright red eyes mean 'newborn.' The one that changed me must have been a newborn, and, as I well remember from my own newborn days, it would have been almost impossible for her to stop feeding once she had tasted my blood. As she did not stay to befriend me, I can only conclude that she did not change me intentionally. I think she must have been beginning to feed on me, and then something happened. Perhaps something scared her off."
I frowned. I couldn't imagine anything "scaring off" a newborn vampire in the middle of a meal. And I also couldn't imagine a newborn with the self-control to intentionally change a human. Quite the mystery.
"Well, I may never know," Kristalene sighed, waving her hand dismissively. We walked another few minutes in silence.
"What about your sister?" I asked. There were still many questions that lay unanswered. If she was willing to answer them, I was going to ask.
"My sister?" Kristalene repeated politely. I rephrased my question more specifically.
"You never harmed her. You say you even see her every Sunday. What did you tell her about ... what you are? What you do? And the townspeople, for that matter. If you have known them all your life, surely they were suspicious when you returned suddenly ... different, when you did not age ... " The questions fell out in a rush until I caught Alice's warning glance and bit my tongue. It was just all so fascinating. In all my years, all the others I had met, I had never seen anyone live like this child did. I didn't think anyone but "vegetarians" could live like she did. And to stay in one place for thirty years ... Surely this broke the law. Surely the humans had become suspicious. Why had the Volturi not come? I shuddered at the thought and quickly locked my eyes on the lovely little girl at my side.
"My sister and I are very close," she repeated, looking past the trees as though at something far away, "after I saw her that first day, and ran away, I was heartbroken. It took me a while to realize what I had become, but even before I knew, I knew I could not be around Anya. Just the thought of her skin, her pulsing blood, her heartbeat -- " she broke off in disgust, anguish. Alice took her hand and squeezed it gently. Kristalene smiled softly at her.
"I stayed away for two years. It broke my heart to do it. I knew my mother and Anya must be so worried, must think I was dead. I told myself that pain was better was better than putting them in danger. But finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I thought that I could go and just look, just make sure they were well. If I had been strong enough to run away on the day of my birth, surely I would be strong enough now, two years later. I did not know about newborns yet, but I could feel that things had changed -- my strength had faded some, my thirst was no longer insatiable. I could control myself near humans, though it took effort.
"So I returned here to Viselkeizedevia and I approached my mother's house slowly, cautiously. Every moment I checked to see that I was in control, that I would not harm my mother or sister. I saw Anya sitting on the back steps, her head in her hands. She was crying. She seemed so sad. My heart broke again and all I wanted was to rush to her, to put my arms around her, to tell her everything was all right and I would take care of her. But I knew I couldn't do that. She was alive, she was healthy, if not happy, and I had seen what I had come to see. I told myself I must leave and let her go on with her life.
"But Anya and I were always closer than most sisters. I told you her blood was my blood. We have always been connected, somehow. My mother used to say that the angels had given us a piece of the other's mind so that we could know each other's thoughts. As I turned to leave I heard Anya call my name.
"She could not have seen me or heard me, for I was well hidden and I made no sound, but somehow I knew she was there. I whirled around to see what had happened. She had not seen me, but she had risen and was glancing around wildly, trying to find me, sensing that I was near. I couldn't leave her after that. I said a prayer to God and I went back to her."
"What did she do?" Alice breathed. I realized I was holding my breath. I could only imagine what my human family would have done if I had returned to them as a vampire. I didn't think they'd be quite as appalling as Carlisle's father, but I doubted they would have welcomed me back with open arms.
"She ran and threw her arms around me as soon as she saw me. I froze and held my breath. I didn't want to risk hurting her. She pulled away when she felt my skin, my rigid stance. I was so afraid -- not only that I might harm her but that she might be frightened of me, might not want me anymore. The thought of losing my Anya was almost unbearable. Having her think I had died was a million times better than having her run away from me in terror. I rebuked myself for not having stayed away -- it was pure selfishness to return.
"But Anya was not frightened. She was shocked, curious, awed, but she was not afraid. Whatever I had become, I was still her sister." Kristalene sighed slightly and I relaxed my tense posture. Though I knew the story must have a happy ending, I was so emotionally invested in this girl that her pain would have caused me pain. I was so relieved to hear that the sister she loved so much had not turned her back on her but instead, incredibly, had accepted her with open arms.
"I told her everything I knew, everything I suspected. She listened in amazement, even sorrow, but never once did she flinch away from my cold hard touch or the awful deeds I confessed. It was incredible. I had always known Anya was one of the most compassionate people I had ever met, but I had never dared hope she'd be this understanding, this accepting.
"It wasn't until I asked how she thought our mother would respond to all of this that she showed any intense pain at all.
" 'Mahts,' she said, not meeting my eyes, 'has gone to Papa and the angels. It happened in Spring... I needed you so, but I thought -- I thought you were dead, too. I was beginning to think God had forsaken me, that I had angered Him somehow. How could He take everything from me? But now He has brought you back to me, brought you home. Bahkvela Vok.' "
Alice shook her head and looked as though she would cry. She rubbed at her eyes and blinked.
"So you told you sister everything?" I asked, amazed.
"Yes. And I am so glad I did. I had thought God had forsaken me, too, but He reunited us. Even as a monster I could be loved. My Anya and I could be together, and I could bear anything as long as I had her love. I began my new life in Viselkeizedevia, living, for the most part, in the house I was born in."
"I'm so glad it all worked out," Alice trilled, wrapping her arm around Kristalene's waist. I nodded, but then my other question occurred to me.
"But what about the villagers?" I could understand Anya accepting and still loving Kristalene. They were the closest of sisters, after all, and seemed to have a very deep bond. But could it be possible that the townsfolk were so understanding? It didn't seem likely, and yet I was starting to believe this child was capable of winning anyone over, just as Renesmee seemed to be.
"Well, that was an accident really," she smiled a half-smile, "There was a boy Anya and I grew up with, Sasha, who we had known our whole lives, played with as children. One day when Anya was in town Sasha came to the house to call on her -- I think he was a little enamored of her. Anyhow, he came to the house and knocked on the door. Anya had not told anyone about me, that I had come back or that I was different. No one knew anything. So I didn't answer the door, I hid inside in the shadows. Sasha knocked again and again -- he was very persistent -- and then he went around to the back of the house and peered in the windows. Perhaps he would have gone away, none the wiser, but he saw my rosary laying on the table." She fingered the ancient golden cross around her neck absently, lost in the memory.
"It's an heirloom, it's been in my family for generations, passed from eldest daughter to eldest daughter. I had worn it since I was a child, and Sasha recognized it immediately. He knew something was going on, then. The rosary had never been found, though search parties had scoured the woods for some sign of me when I had disappeared. He began calling my name, banging on the window.
"I wasn't sure what to do. I couldn't believe he'd be as ... tolerant of what I had become as Anya was. I remained hidden, hoping he would give up and go away. But, as I said, he was persistent. Finally I decided it would be better for me to tell him something than for him to concoct his own story -- there are no secrets in Viselkeizedevia, and I thought unrestrained rumors would cause a lot of distress for my sister. So I took a deep breath, breathed through my mouth, and opened the door."
I heard Alice's sharp intake of breath, as though we were watching a horror movie. I would have laughed at her if I hadn't been just as riveted.
"Sasha was speechless when he saw me. I invited him in -- I wasn't going to add daylight on my skin to the list of frightening features -- and though he seemed wary he came. I tried to act natural, offering him a seat, tea, bread. He just stared at me with wide, shocked eyes.
"Finally he spoke. 'What --' he stammered, 'What happened to you? We all thought you were dead -- we held a ceremony for you at the chapel. Your mother, Anya ...' I swallowed and spoke, trying to keep my voice as human as I could.
" 'I ... wanted a change. I left.' He glared at me then, knowing I was lying. Everyone knew there was no way I would leave my mother and sister without a word -- not by choice.
" 'We looked everywhere,' he accused, 'there was no trace of you. No footprints past the woods, no ... blood. We thought maybe the wolves had gotten you, or that you had fallen in one of the quarries.' "
I nodded. Belavezhskaya had once been well-known for its iron mines and tar production. Even today the government was constantly under pressure from the mining companies to relinquish areas of the forest for mining. I had no doubt there were numerous abandoned mines and quarries throughout the park that would be deathtraps to any hapless wanderers who were not aware of their existence.
"I paused, unable to decide what to do. Sasha continued to glare at me, and I knew he would not rest until he had the truth -- or some of it anyway. So I told him."
"You told him?" I choked incredulously. How easy this choice seemed to have been for her! Had she never heard of the Volturi? Even if she wasn't worried for her own safety -- afraid the villagers would run her out with the very pitchforks and torches I had joked about -- wouldn't she care about their safety, her sister's?
"Well, I told him about Satehna, the fire, what had happened when I awoke. How I heard Anya and was afraid that I might harm her. How I fled. I told him about my cold skin and immense strength and speed. I told him I no longer needed sleep. He listened in amazement, not doubting my words. It didn't occur to him to ask what I ate, and I did not volunteer the information. That was probably my saving grace."
I nodded in understanding now, though I still had questions. So the people knew she was something, something different, but they didn't know exactly what. She had left out the crucial information that would have frightened them, would have turned them against her. I didn't blame her for the omission -- it was prudent, really, smart. It was necessary.
"As I expected, by the next day the whole town had heard the story. Nearly everyone came calling in the next few days, always with some excuse about borrowing a recipe or lending a tool or bringing Anya fruit or vegetables or cloth. I didn't mind, though. I was so happy to see the people I had missed, the people I thought I could never see again. They were all shocked by my appearance, but none of them seemed really frightened of me. After all, they had known me since the day of my birth -- they had been present at my baptism, been to my birthday parties, played with me and shared dinner at my house. I was a native daughter, I suppose you could say. Whatever I had become, I did them no harm and they loved me still. And it has been that way ever since." She finished with a warm smile in our direction.
"And when you didn't age?" I pressed, wanting every detail.
"They just chalked it up to the strangeness of whatever I had become. I do not usually go among them in daylight or move at normal speed or show my strength, but some of them have seen it," Kristalene looked down at the floor, either with guilt or modesty, I couldn't be sure, "You see, about ten years ago there was a fire in the chapel. A farmer, Yuri, had knocked over some of the altar candles and one of the tapestries had caught on fire. It had been a dry year, the longest drought in twenty years, and the church went up like kindling. Yuri, Father Grigory, and another farmer, Vasily, were trapped inside. Half of Viselkeizedevia came, trying to put out the fire, trying to get the doors open to rescue them. A beam from the roof fell and was pressing against the doors; no one could budge them. I could hear the priest and the men screaming, though I was two hundred meters away in the forest, calling for help. I could smell the smoke on the wind. No one could do anything, no one else could save them. I didn't even think about it -- I ran to the doors at top speed, ripped them from their hinges, leapt over the beam and carried the Father, Vasily, and Yuri out into the air. I'm sure you know that this was not difficult, not at all impressive for our kind, but the people were amazed. In fact," she giggled suddenly, the sound ringing off the vast tree trunks, "we nearly lost the entire building because everyone was staring instead of putting out the fire. Of course, the news spread like wildfire," she giggled again at the unintended pun, "As I said, there are no secrets in Viselkeizedevia. They all know I am different, but they have accepted me."
"Incredible," Alice said, returning the smile. She was so happy that things had worked out for this little girl, against all odds. I grinned too. My faith in humanity was justified again. However different this girl was, she was still just little Kristalene to them. I suddenly realized why all the patrons at the inn had seemed more curious than frightened by our presence; they were used to our kind -- one of us at least -- even if they didn't truly know what we were.
I wondered briefly whether she didn't, in fact, have some kind of power that bewitched at least the people in her village. It would make sense. If she had been so close with her sister, cared for those in her village so much, as a human, it could be that those attributes were intensified when she was reborn (if Carlisle's theory was correct). Even though she had saved the priest and the farmers, the villagers' regard could have gone either way. It wouldn't be the first time someone different, benevolent as they may have been, was ostracized or feared by the very people they tried to help. Humans could be cruel. They could be closed-minded and petty. They could lash out and harm those that they didn't understand. But these people didn't. Perhaps they were just more noble, more tolerant than other so many other humans, but perhaps it was something else. Something more. They had cared for the child as a human, they would care for her all that much more with this power. Maybe that was how she restrained from feeding on them so easily, too. She cared so much for them, her power was the will to protect them however she could. So very interesting. Someone's "gift" being love. Not so different from Esme, I supposed. The ability to love so much, that you could defy nature -- defy the humans' inclination to fear or hate, defy your own nature to hunt... Love protecting yourself and the ones you cared for. I thought of the Volturi again.
"And no one ... else ever came here that was ... upset that you had told everyone?" I wasn't quite sure how to phrase my question. If she did not know about the Volturi, it may be that very ignorance that had kept her and her village safe. I wasn't going to endanger -- or frighten -- her unnecessarily.
She looked at me blankly. "Anyone else? Well, from time to time tourists or scientists or photographers come through, but of course no one tells them about me."
"Of course not," Alice interjected quickly, shooting me a warning look. I was happy to drop the subject, though I thought we may need to warn her of the possible dangers before we left.
"They have all been very supportive, actually." Kristalene added defensively, misunderstanding the intent of my question. "I think some of them think I am an angel of sorts, somehow blessed." She laughed wryly. "I know the Father thinks so. I am glad I never told them ..." she trailed off, suddenly sad again.
"Well, we are going to remedy all that unhappiness, little Kristalene," Alice trilled, taking the girl's hand again and skipping off deeper into the woods. I smiled and followed after her, sniffing the air as I went. Now that the most burning questions were answered, I felt more at ease to focus on the hunt.