A/N: Yuletide canticle literally means Christmas Song. I thought this title apropros given that Edward meets Bella, his singer, during the Christmas Holidays.

Definitions from Wikipedia:

Yuletide is a winter festival that was initially celebrated by the historical Germanic peoples as a pagan religious festival, thought it was later absorbed into, an equated with, the Christian festival of Christmas. The festival was originally celebrated from late December to early January on a date determined by the lunar Germanic calendar.

A Canticle (from the Latin canticulum, a diminutive of canticum, song) is a hymn (strictly excluding the Psalms) taken from the Bible. The term is often expanded to include ancient non-biblical hymns such as the Te Deum and certain psalms used liturgically.

Thanks to Shug, who beta'd this for The Twilight Gift Exchange, and thanks to Katinki for pre-reading and giving me constructive criticism. Special thanks to SavageWoman and IrritableGrizzzly for hanging in there with me through this re-write. :D Read all their stuff, people. They are all fabulous authors who give of their time to help my stories not suck when you read them.

YULETIDE CANTICLE

Chapter 1

If vampires were prone to human frailty, he would have a raging migraine by now from the mere minutes he'd been immersed in the melee that humans referred to as "Christmas shopping." Not only were his ears being assaulted by sound at a higher decibel and wider frequency than that of mortal abilities, but also his mind was hearing the thoughts of throngs of festival-goers and passersby who came within his mind's reading distance.

He could block it all or manipulate his ability to pinpoint one individual, but found it useful to read the minds of humans when he was interacting freely among them. It gave him a gauge as to whether he was truly blending in, or if an overly observant human was suspicious of his true nature.

As it happened, more often than not, humans of the female persuasion were attracted by his preternatural beauty and otherworldly charms, which they found very hard to resist. Because he held himself in an aloof manner and punctuated it with a glare that said, "Look your fill but don't dare approach," they usually left him to his own devices. He was, after all, Edward Cullen, Vampire.

However, there was always at least one human who either ignored the glare, was incapable of reading social clues, or was just plain oblivious of his or her own internal danger alarms until it was too late. On more than one occasion while in Denali, he'd been unable to exercise the self-control that his creator and adoptive father Carlisle had passed on to him from his decades of existence; and the inquisitive humans had not met a good end.

It was this propensity he had for deviating from the less than desirable vampire diet that caused him to separate himself from his family yet again. They liked to call themselves "vegetarians" because, for the most part, they abstained from human blood. While Carlisle and most of their coven were largely adapted to the practice of existing on the blood of animals, he and his brother Jasper were the two who were highly susceptible to slip-ups.

Jasper was much better at moving past the guilt and recrimination undoubtedly due to his training as a soldier when he was human and from being the leader of a newborn vampire army shortly after he was changed. He surmised that Jasper used the tactics he'd learned as coping mechanisms to stifle the guilt.

This made Jasper better able to compartmentalize the humans he killed as collateral damage, purely because of his vampire nature, over which he had tenuous control. Jasper also had a mate in Alice, Edward's favorite sibling, who was devoted to their lifestyle and would never hear of Jasper leaving the coven because of his weakness.

The irony was not lost on him that early in his life as a vampire, he'd used his mindreading ability and killed humans who were of unsavory character or outright sociopaths. He'd justified his behavior by convincing himself that taking their lives was a blessing to their would-be victims.

Carlisle, in his idealistic belief that vampires were capable of redemption, found even these incidences of vigilantism unacceptable, if not downright appalling. Usually, in his desire not to disappoint his adoptive father, Edward eventually relented and returned to following their coven's chosen diet—most of the time.

A part of him argued that he was devoid of humanity, so how could he be expected not to act according to his very nature? This was a conundrum with which he struggled daily, given his ability to know the deepest and darkest thoughts of anyone with whom he came in contact. Having been nurtured for decades by Carlisle, who was as good through-and-through as the most devout human soul, he was unable to stand idly by and do nothing whenever he came across abject evil, human or vampire. His conscience would not allow it.

On more than one occasion, he had tipped off the authorities regarding the human monsters he discovered, and enlisted his brothers' help when he identified the few sociopathic vampires they had encountered. These activities he also kept from Carlisle, certain that his father would eschew any attempt to meddle in the affairs of fate. Edward loathed his own hypocrisy, but over the decades of his existence, he'd come to terms with what he was: a monster.

He moved at a human pace through the West Exhibition Hall at Place Bonaventure, careful to mimic human mannerisms so as not to draw unwanted attention. It was the beginning of a month-long festival, Les Salons Des Métiers D'Art, one of Montreal's premier arts festivals. He'd decided to brave this event only because his adoptive mother Esme was enamored with the works of Diane Sullivan, an artist from Williamsburg, Ontario, whose specialty was ceramic art, specifically pottery and sculpture.

Since he would not be with them for yet another holiday, he'd been encouraged by Alice–—though "badgered" might have been a more appropriate word–—to send a special gift to Esme, who missed him the most, followed by Alice herself. More than any other members of his family, he and Alice stayed in contact, largely due to her ability to see the future.

Even though she was far away, she strove to notify him if she saw anything troubling or problematic coming his way. Alice's abilities had saved him from many would-be lapses, both in Denali and now here in Montreal. A few times, she'd been unable to warn him beforehand, but that was because they were impulsive.

In preparation for his foray into the city from his remote dwelling in Laval, just north of Montreal, he'd taken a two-day hunting trip into the forests of Quebec and the Laurentian mountains. He'd scored several Moose and white-tailed deer, engorging himself thoroughly in order to withstand the onslaught of humanity he would encounter in the various markets and malls. He'd been hoping to encounter a black bear, but they were already hibernating for the winter, and he just wasn't interested in tracking a sleeping bear to its cave and having to coax it into a fight. He liked the blood when it was pumping furiously with adrenaline.

Since he was away from his family on a holiday that held much sentimental value, he felt the least he could do was send each of them a token of his affection. In actuality, he could not return to Denali. His last indiscretion prior to his departure had been to kill Tanya's human lover who had gotten a little too curious about them.

Tanya and her sisters were also part of a small coven. They led a similar lifestyle, the only difference being they regularly took human lovers. Tanya's lover had been a reporter and had all but revealed in his thoughts that he knew what they were, and his intention had been to publish an expose', which would have undoubtedly brought the Volturi, their governing body, down on both their covens.

The Volturi had voiced their displeasure many times over Carlisle's chosen lifestyle and his charismatic ability to woo other vampires to follow him. However, Aro, Marcus, and Caius, the Volturi's triune leadership, had reluctantly given Carlisle and his family latitude to live as they pleased, as long as they kept the cardinal vampiric law: keep humans unaware of their existence. Carlisle once lived in Volterra, Italy amongst the rulers and their eccentricities, but their avuncular style of brutality had driven him away, and he set out to build a different kind of life for himself. The Volturi were not fond of the sanctity the Cullens and other vegetarian vampires had for human life. In their opinion, it went against their nature and posed a very real threat to their discovery, given the close proximity in which the vegetarian covens lived and existed among humans.

Tanya was convinced that Edward had killed Jonathan Landry out of jealousy; however, she overestimated her charms and totally misread or disregarded all the signals he'd been sending her over the years. While Edward found her beautiful, the extent of his feelings for her had been strictly platonic affection. A thinly-veiled friendship, if you will. He'd never had a sexual attraction to her. This perplexed him because all of his siblings had found suitable mates early in their years, but he'd gone decade after decade without once having found a woman who appealed to him in that way.

He decided that his ability to read minds had literally turned him off to most females, robbing him of the delight that most men reveled in—the "mystery" of woman. He'd grown accustomed to the idea that he'd been rendered a eunuch and was destined never to have a mate. Despite his early acceptance of his plight, he sometimes yearned for a loving relationship, much like the ones both his human and vampire parents, and siblings, enjoyed. If the truth were told, this fact alone did more to exacerbate his desire to separate himself from his family than his inability to adhere to the lifestyle.

Having read and memorized the map of the exhibition hall, he knew he had to be nearing booth #828, where Ms. Sullivan's work was to be shown. He'd decided to make the trek on Saturday, December fifth because Esme was interested in a rare piece that could possibly be sold prior to the closing of the Sullivan show on the thirteenth.

There were also the minor details to consider. Even though he was nervous about the items arriving on time—and he could transport them himself at vampire speed faster than by mail or courier—he simply could not bring himself to set foot back in Denali just now.

Tuning out the audible voices of the humans around him, he honed in exclusively on thoughts as he wended his way through the patrons milling around the exhibition hall. The Quebecois, as natives of Quebec referred to themselves, were almost exclusively French speakers. Many were bilingual and spoke English out of necessity for tourists. Therefore, he was hearing thoughts in both French and English as he made his final approach to Ms. Sullivan's booth.

He had to remind himself to move at human speed. Since he'd been secluded at his home in Laval for so long, he wasn't accustomed to trying to fit in. The only time he slowed to human speed was when he was playing his piano.

Finally reaching his destination, he scanned the booth. The selection of Diane Sullivan's Arabesque Pottery was vast, but he was looking for a very specific piece. A petite brunette wearing an artist's smock bearing Diane Sullivan's name, spotted him and headed his way.

"Il est magnifique," she thought as she approached him.*

However, she spoke to him in English. "How may I help you?" Her words were polite; however, her thoughts were anything but. "Mais dites-moi plutôt que vous voulez me l'offrir, beau mec."

Ignoring her thoughts and careful not to react to them, Edward thought in response, Believe me Mademoiselle, you really don't want me to give you anything, however he answered, "Yes, I am interested in one of Ms. Sullivan's one-of-a-kind pieces from her Chinese collection."

"Oui, Monsieur. They are in the back of the booth. Follow me," she said very professionally. However, her immediate thought was, "Oui, suivez-moi à la réserve et prenez-moi contre le mur."

Edward rolled his eyes in exasperation and followed her to the back. There would be no taking up against walls, particularly if this young woman desired to survive this transaction with her life. He was glad that he was so sated by his hunting trip that his throat just barely registered a tickle from the smell of her blood.

"These are sculptures that Ms. Sullivan completed while she was in China in 2006. You can see they are all similar, yet very much one-of-a-kind. Each has its own unique signature." She looked at him expectantly and put on her sexiest smile. "The soft green glaze is celadon. It was created by the Chinese to emulate the characteristics of jade, which they believed to be imbued with protective and healing qualities. Jade, and therefore celadon, was held in high esteem as the embodiment of the vitality of the celestial dragon. She has combined it with a dark metallic glaze that suggests the strength and magical protective properties of iron. In medieval times, iron was thought to protect one against the evil eye. Thus you have the protection of heaven and earth coming together on the surface of this work."

As she finished her spiel, a human couple approached. "Excusez-moi s'il vous plait?" The woman inquired timidly.

"Un moment s'il vous plait," the salesgirl answered. Then turned back to him, "Would you care to take one with you today?"

Edward was ecstatic that someone else was there to distract her and he could make his purchase and beat a hasty retreat. "I'll just make my selection and tender my payment at the register. Thank you for your time," he said, turning back to the sculptures and handily dismissing her.

Having already located the sculpture that Alice had described to him, he studied it and the surrounding sculptures to make absolutely sure it was the right one. The piece Esme wanted was an Asian bird feeder, which had a blackbird perched on the rim of the bird feeder's bowl.

As he took the sculpture and turned to leave, careful not to crush the porcelain statue, a small brown-haired female human collided with him. Having not bothered to breathe while he'd been making the selection, he opened his mouth to make his apologies and caught the first whiff of her scent, which sent him staggering back from her as if he'd been hit by a wrecking ball. Involuntarily, a low inaudible growl rumbled deep within him. His teeth were bared, but to the human eye, it probably looked like he was scowling at her.

As she began apologizing profusely, he studied her for a few brief seconds. Admittedly, she was an attractive human. She had a rather cherubic, heart-shaped face with lips so pink they were almost red. She had wavy shoulder-length hair and her skin was almost as pale as his was; the only difference being, she had blood coursing through her veins, which lent it a translucent pinkish tinge.

His skin, if you could call it that, was as hard as granite, and the veins that formerly carried blood now coursed with venom so deadly, he need only prick her supple skin once with his razor-sharp teeth to introduce it into her veins and transform her into what he was. He could not discern why that thought had occurred to him first. What he really wanted to do more than anything else was bite into her jugular and drain her of every drop of her sweet aromatic blood.

"Excusez-moi, Monsieur," she pleaded in her tentative French. "Je suis vraiment désolée. Je suis trop maladroite. Veuillez me pardonner."

All he could think of while she was apologizing was his overpowering thirst. Her blood called to him so savagely, he felt as if he were a wild huntsman of Medieval folklore. In the same way the villagers, who had the misfortune of seeing The Hunt, were cursed to die. The sight of him, crouched in preparation to strike, would presage her very death. However, all she could do was continue her apologies, oblivious to the danger he posed. Her blood sang to him like the Hallelujah Chorus, and the savoriness of her scent was like Babette's Feast. Could he resist so sumptuous a meal? He realized in that moment that if he did not leave her presence, he would disappoint his family yet again.

He concentrated his ability solely on her to hear what reaction she was having to him, but there was only a disconcerting silence. Either this young woman had no thoughts, or for the first time ever, here was a person he could not read. Was that even possible? Listening carefully, the only things he could hear were her rather labored moist breathing, the erratic beating of her heart, and the rushing of delicious blood through her veins. He shook his head as if to remove that thought from his mind, because he really didn't know how much longer he would be able to contain himself in her presence.

The venom was pooling in his mouth so rapidly, he couldn't swallow it fast enough. It burned down his throat like a seven-alarm fire, her blood calling to him like drugs to the addicted. He'd read the minds of many people who were strung-out on everything from laudanum to heroin, to the crack cocaine of today, and he realized his feelings echoed theirs.

Before he could make the decision to move away from her and careful to do so in human rather than vampire speed, he heard an insistent ringing, which confounded and astonished him all at once. It was the shrill insistence of the sound that finally brought him to the realization that it was his cell phone.

"Il n'y a rien de cassé," he growled to the brown-haired girl in rapid French as he lurched away from her.

Desperately clutching the base of the sculpture, he felt pieces of it giving way. He held his breath, quickly smoothing the grooves as he retrieved the phone from his pocket to answer it. Of course, it was Alice.

"Edward," she warned ominously, "if you kill the brown-haired girl, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

"Alice, what are you talking about?" he asked before he realized he was talking at human speed and quickly switched over. "It's going to be more difficult than any other time. This one has blood more decadent than any I have smelled in all my years."

"Trust me," Alice pleaded. "This human will be very important to you in the very near future. I've seen it."

"The blood of this one is like the canticum canticorum. I am drawn to it like no other, and I am afraid I will not be able to resist." As he was speaking, venom again pooled effortlessly in his mouth, and he swallowed it down without breathing.

"Edward," Alice begged, "If you kill this girl, you may never find your soul mate. You could go another several hundred years without someone to share your existence."

He glanced at the almost insignificant brown-haired girl, who was staring longingly at a pitcher in the collection. His first thought was that he could pierce her jugular before anyone noticed and take care of the three salesgirls and the artist before they knew what was happening. He could hide all five bodies in the storeroom until he was able to dispose of them, taking them out the back door and into his waiting car. If he moved at vampire speed, it was highly unlikely that anyone would see anything. The women wouldn't be missed until he was long-gone and had buried their bodies in a remote part of the vast forests of Quebec.

This was absolutely what he wanted to do, but Alice's words had given him pause. Could she really mean that this pale, human, slip of a girl, was meant to be his mate? How was this possible? Even the Denali coven's practice of taking human lovers was distasteful to him. In addition, considering how tantalizing her blood was, how would he be able to resist killing her long enough to pursue her? This was an impossibility.

"How sure are you of this? If I walk away now and move away from Montreal, I won't have to subject myself to her blood's addictive call to me, right?"

"That may be true, brother, but how about the possibility that you've found your mate?" Alice hedged. "Wouldn't you like to stay and explore that?"

"Considering how potent her blood is, it would be a purely platonic relationship. I can barely stay in the same room with her as it is."

"Carlisle can help with that, Edward, just as he did for Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett."

Edward knew what she was intimating, and that was not something that he would foist upon this unsuspecting human. "Absolutely not. That would be a fate I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."

"Then, take a tip from the Denalis and romance this human."

"Are you insane? I am not an Incubus. I'm certainly not going to become one now."

"This girl is your soul mate. Human or vampire, you are meant to be with her."

He spat his final words into the phone. "Please give my regards to Carlisle and Esme. I need to get out of here before I do something that will require you to offer my apologies to them for an entirely different reason. I will ship your gifts home in a couple of days." He ended the call and turned his attention briefly back to the human. Edward was careful to continue holding his breath before he approached her, feeling fortunate that breathing wasn't necessary unless he was speaking or hunting.

She had moved away from the pitcher and was looking at a plate of the same pattern, but her eyes were continually drawn to the pitcher.

He put on his best non-threatening smile and approached the girl, careful not to breathe in, or he would attack her as sure as he was an 109-year-old vampire.

E/N:

*French to English Translations:

Il est magnifique. He is gorgeous.

Mais dites-moi plutôt que vous voulez me l'offrir, beau mec. Tell me you want to give it to me but good, pretty boy.

Oui, suivez-moi à la réserve et prenez-moi contre le mur. Yes, follow me to the storeroom and take me up against the wall.

Excusez-moi, Monsieur. Je suis vraiment désolée. Je suis trop maladroite. Veuillez me pardonner." Excuse me, sir. I am so sorry. That was so clumsy of me. Please forgive me.

"Il n'y a rien de cassé. It is quite all right.

Review if Canticleward intrigues you, or floats your boat!