To read Vanity and Patience please go to my profile to find the link.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, and its characters, or plot. The characters, books, and plot are property of Stephenie Meyer. I make no money from writing this. I just love Twilight.
Warning: Lemons in future chapters. Rated NC-17 for a reason. Violence, adult language, drugs, assault, and sexual content.
Chapter Specific Warning: Adult content, but no lemons.
Big thanks to my beta, Lisa aka cfmom, who totally rocks. This story would not be what it is without her.
Playlist:
The Killers – White Demon
Sarah McLaughlin – Angel
Warrant – Heaven
The Calling – Wherever You Will Go
Chapter 3: Think I've Died and Gone to Heaven… and Hell
Death is easy.
It's a part of nature. A part of life.
And as I was certainly fine with life, with the way I'd lived my own life, I could easily accept it.
I stared at the compost of dead leaves and twigs that cushioned the forest floor, just inches from my face. It wasn't long before they became saturated by thick red liquid.
My blood, I faintly recognized. Fuck. Coherency was drifting from me quickly.
I was beginning to feel pain, sharp and piercing, and I grunted. The numbness was wearing off.
I fought for a while to keep my eyes open, but then I suddenly realized that there was no use in keeping myself alive. I was here alone, and no one would consider me missing for at least another day. No one would come looking for me; not in time to save me.
Time passed. It felt like days. Weeks even. I knew that it was only hours though because the sun had never come up once. What felt like an eternity, had in fact only been a couple of hours."
The sounds of the forest that usually filtered out of my range of awareness were now beginning to become distinct. Crickets were chirping. Little animals were scurrying places. I heard an owl nearby.
I felt the end coming near, the pain of my injuries becoming a dull ache.
No one was coming for me. I was going to die. The fact was more obvious now than it was moments ago, and it hit me like a freight train.
Within the rhythm of the forest sounds in the calm night, I began to think about the people in my life.
Oscar. Daniel. My best friends since the first grade. They were like my hands. I couldn't have gone through school or work without them. I hoped that they knew that.
I remembered Betty. I remembered Jeanine. Damn it. I was going to die a virgin. Well fuck me upside down.
Heh. Maybe I could regret that one last thing before death.
I laughed, but a gurgling cough came out instead. Followed by a sharp pain. Ouch
My family. Oh, God, my family.
My father, my role model. He'd taken good care of us, even after the loss of my mother. Even though I knew Nana had played a big hand in it, there was no doubt that he'd never let us go without food on the table and a roof over our heads. I know he'd said I made him proud, as did my work in the lumber yard. That made me feel good. I didn't think it was enough, though. Part of me was sorry I wouldn't get a chance to make it enough. Be the better son for him. Oh, Pop. I'm so sorry.
Elliot. My brother had been my friend since birth, my one and only sibling. I'd looked up to him before I started walking. It was hard to imagine never seeing him again, but I was more worried about what my death would do to him. And Amy. It was hard to think of my brother without his better half. Well she was easily the sister I never had. They were the kind of marriage I would've liked to have, if I were to ever be married. Their love was just that great.
Little Judy. My Judy Pudy. Ringlets and laughter. I'm sorry, Judy-Pudy, for not keeping my promise, and playing jacks with you next week. And Baby Billy. Bouncing baby Billy. How it pained me to realize I wouldn't see them grow up.
And then there was Sandra, my stepmom. I'd miss even Sandra. I guess.
I stayed still, and the pain was fading, as I hoped it would. But the dull ache, becoming duller and duller, worried me. Numbness was near again, and I knew it was because my body was shutting down.
Slowly, I let my lids fall, closing my eyes to the inevitable. Behind the curtain of my lids, it was black, and I braced myself to see the fires of hell, or maybe the working, pleading souls of purgatory. There was no way my life would bring me to heaven, unless He truly was a forgiving God. All I found, however, was blackness as my eyes scanned the space in front of me.
After a few long moments, my eyes fixed on a light glow at the end of the space. It was small and faint at first, but grew brighter and brighter, and in it appeared two graceful figures. They were silhouetted by the light, two women walking toward me. Their arms were stretched out.
Somewhere in my mind, I knew who they were.
I smiled brightly, my eyes swelling with tears. My heart fluttered within my mind, feeling heavy. I never thought I'd see them again.
It was my mother, Muriel, and my Nana, Adeline.
"I've been waiting for a long time for this," a gentle voice murmured. I knew that voice anywhere.
I chuckled like a child as soon as I heard it, the tears pouring over my cheeks.
It was the voice of my childhood, the voice that comforted me when I needed it. It was the voice of my mother, the sound of sweet, maternal love. I felt my physical body smile in conjunction with the smile I gave in my mind. My hand reached out to hers.
"Come with us dear," Nana said. "We've been waiting for you."
Nana, there's so much I want to tell you.
I couldn't see their faces; their bodies were still black figures as the light that illuminated the space behind them. But I'd missed them so much.
I reached out my hand, wanting to take my Nana's arm. My mother's hand was stretched out to me, and I became confused. Which one should I take first? It had been years since I'd seen my mother, and I wanted desperately to touch her fingers once again.
Wait. I'm so fucking stupid. I had two hands.
I extended both hands in front of me, one reaching out to either of them.
Shit. I said "fucking." That's not a good choice here, I would guess. At least I didn't say it out loud. I was praying the big guy couldn't read my thoughts. I'd have more explaining to do since I hadn't attended Mass in a good five years.
Suddenly a snarl came from somewhere, echoing into the black space around us. I looked around the dark space and there was nothing—nothing that would make such a sound. When I turned back to the figures before me with a smile on my face, it instantly faded from my lips. The light was fading, and the figures disappeared.
My heart broke into a million pieces, and I was hit in the stomach with a pang of loneliness. "No," I whispered, my arms stretched out before me, searching for my Nana, and for my mother.
My eyes flew open, and I saw leaves and twigs again, sticky with my blood. Moisture was beading on my forehead, and some of it poured onto my lips. I tasted my sweat, mixed with tears.
A hiss, much like the snarl in my dream, rang in my ears again.
Someone was here. I stirred, but it was the worst idea. I began to gasp; I hurt all over. Here I thought I was going numb; I was just going numb in that position.
I was suddenly flipped onto my back, though my consciousness was slipping from me fast. I squirmed as I felt something as cold and hard as stone take hold of me. How strange, I thought, that they felt like hands and arms, but were wintery to the touch. I continued to moan and groan through the pain, though much of my body had gone numb, paralyzed by my injuries.
Fucking bear.
I felt the artic hands on my arms again. Even as I was sure at that moment that I lay dying, my mind couldn't help its curiosity. I made the effort through my weakened stupor to open my eyes.
Holy. Shit.
My lungs stopped when I took a glimpse of whom or what had found me.
It was a lady—flesh as white as the snowy Tennessee mountain caps in January, long golden hair as shiny as corn silk in a pretty wave. She was looking at my body, my injuries.
What the hell was a dame like that doing here? Maybe I was hallucinating. I figured it might be right to test that theory. I needed to speak, to try and get her attention.
Something.
"H-help m-me," was all I could manage to wheeze out of my fading breath. Pitiful. But it was the first thing that came to me, because suddenly, I wasn't ready for heaven, or hell. I wanted to stay where this woman was, wherever she was from.
Her face switched to me suddenly, and I swore my heart froze as my eyes caught hers. Her eyes were held in a dark frame of the longest, fullest lashes, and her irises were like melted butterscotch. The sight of her beautiful gaze caused a strange feeling to crash through me, which I couldn't understand after all the distress my body was going through physically. It was an aching of my insides, and when I blinked for a millisecond it hurt for that short moment that I wasn't looking at her.
Her expression exchanged instantly, menacing and determined at first, but softening the longer that she looked at me.
Soft, tender, and absolutely stunning.
Was she an angel sent from heaven?
Had God come for me?
Of course he has, I thought to myself, the memory of the bear's claws gouging into my stomach. No cat could survive what I just endured.
I felt tips of her icy fingers on my face, and suddenly she began to weep.
I turned what I could of my head to take a look at our surroundings. Surely this broad couldn't be alone in the forest.
Was she lost? Was that why she cried?
I tried to speak, but all that came out was another strangled moan of pain. I wanted to ask her questions. I wanted to know why she was here. And after she told me why, I wanted to ask her if she'd be mine.
I strained to keep my eyelids open, determined to study her more as she gathered what remained of my body. Her face was so perfect that the word beautiful wouldn't even begin to describe the degree of allure this woman had. Her features were otherworldly.
Surely, she was an angel.
I let out a choked groan as she handled me. My injuries began to throb again as soon as she moved me. Yet I was still far from caring. I'd gladly take the pain. She was just too beautiful.
And then, in a flash, she had lifted me, and propelled herself in a direction so fast that I felt like we were flying.
Was she going to take me away to heaven now?
I forced consciousness upon myself as we were in flight, refusing to shut my eyes against the sight of her. I felt the wind whipping at my face. It was making it hard for me to keep my eyes open.
My body was shutting down, but my mind was still working—working hard to concentrate on the angel—on her face. I struggled as I made myself memorize the perfect angles of her godlike features.
Her body felt like ice underneath her clothes. It was a relief to my withering, burning flesh and wounds. I pressed my face, and what I could of my mangled body, against her chest.
It felt so damn good. I wondered if briefly heaven was the exact opposite of hell—a wintery cold versus a fire pit. It would explain the temperature of her body.
It gave relief to the pain of my injuries. I welcomed the cold from her. It made me sigh happily.
Sighing had me inhale her sweet perfume. Her scent was so sugary and floral, like roses. Exactly like roses. However, something else was mixed in with that rosy scent. It was something delicious, and saccharine—like cookies, and cake.
I inhaled again. Ah, that's it. Vanilla. She smelled like an odd combination of vanilla and roses, and it attracted me to no end. I inhaled deeply, taking huge breaths of her essence into my system.
As I inhaled, the side of my face felt the contours of her body, her chest. Even in all my preparation for death, I could feel her bosom against my cheek. It was perfect and round, but hard as stone. And… a small bump? Wait. Was that… a nipple? I mused for an instant if angels were able to have sex in the Kingdom of God.
I deliberated on that thought, recollecting my prayers.
Our Father. Hail Mary. Virgin Mary.
Sex in heaven? Not likely.
I chuckled to myself, but it came out a strangled cough. Ouch. I moaned. Pain in my chest. Bad idea.
"Just hold on," the angel whispered, her voice sounding like chimes in the wind. "Please, just hold on."
I was amused by that. She must've thought I was struggling, the moan induced because I was dying. Well, maybe that was true, but my mind was still so much alive.Man, did she not know what I was thinking.
I rubbed my head against her breast again, the peak of her nipple against my cheek.
Sex not likely. What a shame.
I stopped myself from lingering on that thought any longer. That would've earned a swat from Nana. She'd send me straight to the confessional at Saint Patrick's. Father McAfee would've definitely given me penance that would keep me up all night. Twenty-five Our Fathers. Fifty Hail Mary's. Eighty rounds of the Holy Rosary.
I did as the angel asked, and I held on. I concentrated on her face instead. It wasn't that hard. Full pouty lips, and cheekbones so high they pointed to heaven, where she came from. She glanced down at me just as I gazed at her, and I swore that my injured stomach flipped. She had strange golden eyes and lashes from here to Chattanooga. I was sure those eyes would haunt me for as long as I lived, however short that may be now.
A strange feeling came over me. I think I was in love. She was that beautiful. I'd chased many a skirt in my day, but this broad was a tomato carved out of flawlessness. Pure perfection. I knew that wherever she was taking me, if I could walk away from it in my free will, I wouldn't leave. In fact, I'd gladly follow her anywhere.
I felt my body weakening. I noticed my breathing had become labored since she'd found me.
As she slowed I could no longer hold my eyes open. I couldn't ignore that failing completely. She needed to hurry and save my soul.
She stopped, and I could hear her arguing with a male voice.
He sounded a little upset. Too upset. In fact, he needed to relax. One thing was for sure: he wasn't happy that she had brought me. He was growling every word. Was he God? Had the angel made a mistake? Was I not supposed to go to heaven? I never thought of God as angry.
I was growing incoherent, losing my consciousness. I couldn't understand what they were talking about. I could only see black, zoning in and out.
Another set of voices came. A woman, and another man, but I thought it was strange, because I never actually heard them coming. Maybe I was blacking out that much that I'd missed it.
I felt a shift, like I was handed over to someone else, and then, I was flying again, but only for a moment.
I was drifting in and out of consciousness.
When I regained a moment of awareness, I was very confused. There was no longer a night sky above me, but rather the wooden beams of a ceiling. I was no longer being carried, but was lying prone on a hard, flat surface. I was cold, but I didn't know if that was from blood loss, or the sad, tattered remains of my clothing unable to keep the winter chill from my body. I felt naked. Had someone taken off my clothes? This can't be heaven.
I opened my eyes, wincing at the light. There was a light in the ceiling, and a figure of a man in front of it, looking down at me. A silhouette, or whatever you call it.
Was it God?
It had to be. God was a man. Or at least, that what I was told all my life. The angel had brought me to God.
He switched on another light… and I was shocked at what I saw.
God was… blonde.
And… pretty.
God was pretty.
And shaven.
Cleanly shaven.
In a long, white coat. Like a doctor.
Well that was… unexpected. I'd always assumed he'd look like an older version of Jesus, the bearded man with the dark hair, like images my Nana used to pray to at home.
God… blonde, pretty, and shaven. In a doctor's threads.
Huh? Was I lucid?
Figures. Our creator. Father of heaven and earth. Naturally, he'd be more beautiful than any of us. The doctor part confused me, however.
I figured I was delusional. I began to shiver, my body temperature dropping. I knew that my injuries had caused me to lose too much blood to survive.
I heard God going back and forth with the angel. Something about changing someone.
Were they talking about me? Was I about to become an angel, now, too?
I thought of the stone hard breasts on the angel. That dish of an angel.
Would I be cold as snow, too? Would my jewels be rock stiff as well?
In the room, I was vaguely aware of the presence of the other woman and the tense male in need of relaxing. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate as time went on. It was getting colder, and I felt my body going completely numb. I could almost sense my heart beating slower. Everything went black again before I felt a gust of wind.
"Son, what is your name?" God asked me.
His soothing, deeper chimed voice brought me back to consciousness. "Eh-eh mmett," I could barely breathe. It was pathetic, but my chest hurt and my lungs could barely find the oxygen in the air.
God took my hand and smiled.
Hah. There's a statement I'd never thought I'd make.
God then said, "Well, Emmett, I'm Carlisle. I'm here to save you."
Wait. God's name was Carlisle?
He then leaned in slightly and whispered, "This will hurt more than what you're feeling now, but it will soon be over."
Wait… what?
He leaned in like he was going to whisper to me—tell me a secret. I leaned in to listen. I'd do anything God wanted me to, pretty blonde doctor or not. "Be reborn, my son," he breathed.
Suddenly, something was tearing at my throat.
Like a blade coated in acid.
Fire.
Burning, sweltering, scorching fire.
It was spreading from my neck, seeping through my torso, travelling to my limbs. It took over my brain.
I writhed in agony. Every part of me was ablaze.
I heard the screaming before I realized it was coming from me.
I was roasting. Baking. Broiling.
I think I was thrashing against the table. I wasn't sure. I couldn't concentrate on anything but the fire.
"On f-fire, I'm …burning!" The screaming again. Was that really me?
Through the pain, I heard the angel crying again. I tried to concentrate on that instead. But it was hard. I know I continued writhing, grunting, groaning.
Screaming.
The. Fire. Would. Not. Stop.
Was I in hell? Or was this Purgatory?
One thing was for sure. This was not heaven.
A small part of me was still able to think through the inferno. I wasn't surprised by this. I'd had too much fun in my day for me not to burn in hell. I knew I deserved this. Why, then, did the angel cry?
Wind again, brushing on my side, and I felt someone beside me. "I—" I heard voice of soft bells ring. The angel. So, she hadn't left me. A strange sense of relief took over me, despite the burning. "I'm Rosalie. I found you. I'm so sorry. I know that it hurts, but please, try and bare it, just for now. It'll all be over soon, I promise."
She knew this would hurt me? What kind of angel was she? It would be over? The pain wouldstop? When was this? Over couldn't come soon enough for me.
Holy shit, this was hell.
And maybe "Carlisle" wasn't God. Maybe "Carlisle" was Satan, only here in hell, Satan sounded like "Carlisle."
Oh, the fire! Fuck, it felt like I was being torched from the inside out. I squeezed my eyes shut, and I felt moisture pouring out of them. I was crying. Like a sissy. But this was the greatest pain I'd ever felt, and I realized I could give two shits that I was being a sissy.
Her cold fingers took my hand, pulling it out of the balled fist I was making in pain. She placed her fingers into my hand, our palms touching each other, and I clutched onto her hand like my life depended on it. The wintery feeling was welcome, but it didn't stop the fire. I groaned when I found that it didn't help.
"I'm here for you," she whispered gently, seeming to struggle against her sobs.
I opened my eyes at that moment, the gorgeous angel staring back at me. Even upset, she looked beautiful. She didn't shed any tears, but her breathing and contorted expression still told me she was weeping. Maybe they didn't cry in heaven. Or maybe God didn't want it to rain on Earth, so she wasn't allowed to cry tears. That's what my Nana told me about the rain—angels' tears. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. I had the angel here with me again.
At that moment, I was thankful to have her, the angel, by my side, and I didn't care that she might have been an angel from hell. If this was hell, I'd happily take it, as long as she was with me.
The burn. So much fire. Put it out, God damn it!
I thought to ask her to kill me, but then I'd never see her again. I couldn't fathom that.
"Sweetie, I'm here for you," she breathed, and I felt cold, marble lips take a swipe against my forehead.
I felt another set of icy fingers brush the top of my head, and through my writhing and flinching, I actually shivered. I wanted her to touch me like that again, but I couldn't speak anymore… the pain held me stronger than the ability to retain control of my lips, or anything else.
"My Emmett," the angel breathed, and I shivered again. My name said in wind chimes. I didn't want to die if I couldn't hear that again. "I'm right here."
Fire.
It wasn't like a camp fire with its weak orange-red flames.
It was like super hot blue flames—the kind you'd find off a special torch or gas stove or something. It raked over my body like I was some dry forest in the west. It held me hostage.
Holy fuck did it continue to burn.
I held ice in my hand the whole time. It was oddly comforting, the angel's hand. I'd missed her name in all my screaming and pain. My screaming had gone down, and I gritted my teeth as I bore the smoldering in my veins.
I wondered if the burn had reached her, because I could almost swear that the temperature of her hand was getting warmer as days past. It was strange that she never went to bed, or excused herself to the ladies' room.
Not that I minded. In fact, I didn't want her to leave my side. Even burning on that table, I was happy. Happy that she was with me, that I knew she was there.
The angel and God, or Carlisle, told me what I was becoming, but I didn't believe them.
A vampire?
I'd read Bram Stoker's Dracula many times. I'd seen some film adaptations of it, as well as the old Nosferatu movie from the 1920's. They scared me as a kid. Entertained me as a man.
But I always knew one thing. They didn't exist. They just didn't.
But then I remembered the blades that cut me, slicing through my neck. Razor sharp wet metal, laced with burning acid. But the doctor leaned in like he was going to whisper to me.
Was that the doctor's teeth?
Oh, shit.
Carlisle wasn't God.
And the angel, the dear sweet angel, wasn't really an angel.
Maybe they were telling the truth.
I pondered the concept of being a vampire, something I could do to keep my mind off the embers that ate away at my flesh. That would be kinda neat. I could be all right with that.
Flames on my body continued to spread, and whatever I was becoming didn't matter at that moment. I moaned again, the burn getting to me. I had to get through hell first.
Fire.
Fire holding me hostage. Burning me to a crisp. I'd break apart and be a fragile, brittle, black lump of nothing when this was done. That's what it felt like I was going to become. Not some cold, rock hard, pretty thing like they were.
The angel whispered to me, told me things in a soothing voice. Us hunting together. Her teaching me their ways. Promising the fire would be out soon.
I groaned in misery when she would say things like that. When was soon?
Hoping "soon" would come sooner, I tried my best to listen to what they were telling me, but I refused to move or speak. It felt like if I stirred, if I twitched, the fire would blaze hotter. I didn't dare try to aggravate the flames.
She and the doctor talked something about vampire laws, the most important being discretion.
Wow. They were really serious about this vampire shit. I guess they really weren't pulling my chain.
There was a reason why people didn't know they existed, apparently. They lived in secret among us. Sneaky little bastards.
They told me more—something unique about them— their family respecting the life of humans. They hunted animals instead. Only animals.
Well, that's not very vampire-like. Not so Dracula to me.
Shouldn't they be luring females, with a harem of topless broads with fangs nearby? The victims come back as the same creatures they were?
I paused for a moment. Do I get fangs, too?
And what good would it be to have fangs if you couldn't hunt people? Wasn't that the thrill in being a vampire? I had so many questions.
I stopped myself short of that thought. Why didn't it repel me—this idea of hunting people? The very species I was, maybe stillwas. Why didn't the idea of being a vampire repel me at all? Hell, if the kind doctor could do it, so could I. If the angel could be a fanged monster, I could too.
But then, as I wondered about it, I grasped a certain undeniable fact. As my eyes were shut, I distinctly remembered the angel's breathtaking features, the face that had me falling all over myself, even in near death. Her wide eyes that were the color of the sun, and her lashes so long they extended to Chattanooga. I'd stare at those eyes forever. This immortal concept was getting better and better.
Yep, still an undeniable fact.
The angel.
I'd go with her anywhere.
Even to hell.
Even if I was a scary monster. Dracula. Frankenstien. The Phantom of the Opera.
It didn't matter.
She had me.
I was hers.
That wouldn't change when I awoke from hell.
Or would it?
Author End Notes:
Again, to read Vanity and Patience please visit my profile for the link.
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