C.6
Fey
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Her hand wandered to her neck as she absently stroked her throat. She could still feel his vice grip closing around her. But there was something else that was even more real and haunting than the phantom hand cutting off the air to her lungs; the taste of her friend's blood still lingered on her lips and tongue.
The radical flavor of the thick vital fluid wasn't there, but the bitter, metallic aftertaste was constant. It adhered to her cheeks and the tiny places between her tongue and teeth. She would have to wash it out with water to be rid of it.
Bella hated herself. She did nothing to stop him. She sat by and watched him devour her friend.
She did nothing.
It was the thought that plagued her, ridiculed her.
It was the thought that told her she was a horrible friend, and deserved to be in Angela's place.
It shouldn't have been her, it should have been me, she thought.
Her eyes burned with hot tears and exhaustion as she walked to the tree line, where the items she requested were to be dropped off.
The woods cracked around her. Twigs and branches settled to the foliage-covered floor. She shivered but this time not only from fear, but from the cold. Even in the hot months of July, the early mornings in Georgia were sometimes chilly, and that morning was no exception.
Hadn't the world already been cruel enough?, she thought.
But it was not the world that had delivered her into the hands of death. Fate, whether it existed or not, could only lead a person so far until they make the conscience decision on how it ends. Bella unknowingly chose to die when she entered and stayed in Edward's house, and she knew this now. What if she had chosen to force an exit when he asked her to eat dinner?
What if she had bypassed his house completely? How would this end if she had not of rung his doorbell?
But she knew that the option did not exist.
She would have stopped anywhere to use a phone. She would have called the police, and that person, that human, would not have stopped her. They would have encouraged it, even if they knew there was nothing that could be done until later. After all, missing persons aren't missing until a substantial amount of time had passed.
But what if wasn't the only thought that was with her and the phantom hand.
A voice haunted her; a voice too real and undying to let go – Jake's.
He had asked her to be safe.
She reached the clearing and stepped out onto the lawn behind the house. She wasn't lined up with the backdoor, but more to the side. She scanned the grass to see if she spotted any odd shapes. She did.
She picked up the skirt of her dress and moved with ease across the soft, cool, well-manicured lawn. The blades tickled her feet and the soil sank beneath her heels, springing her back when all her weight was down.
Her own shoes and a bottle of water waited for her. She fell to the ground and instantly opened the water. She took measured sips, careful not to over-divulge in what she craved the most. The water, although not enough to satiate her thirst, relieved her somewhat.
She sighed as she pulled the mouth of the bottle away from her lips and screwed the lid back on.
She didn't know if she would be able to keep the liquid in her stomach. She felt nauseated. She couldn't escape it.
Death haunted her, filled her every movement.
Angela.
She was all she could see, and nothing could draw here from the horrific images.
She was alone in her thoughts of blood and death, of monsters and men.
She closed her eyes tightly, straining to block them out, but the images were persistent.
He had wrapped his hand around her throat and said, "You're bleeding."
The words had meant something now, and wouldn't desist. They echoed repeatedly, caught in an empty mirror of confusion.
"She was bleeding," Bella said aloud. "That is why he found her so quickly."
The moment communicated through time, and it was suddenly relevant to Bella's plan she had formed a short while ago.
It wouldn't be enough to mask my scent, she thought. I'll have to give it to him, but in a form he won't be able to resist.
"I'll have to bleed."
=x=
She had given up hope. She had allowed the darkness to settle into her heart, and linger in her mind. She was going to die. She didn't lie to herself now as she sat alone. Jessica brought her knees to her chest in agony. It was the first time in her life that she had felt this way; the torture of the truth. A hole had been ripped inside her chest, leaving her empty and broken.
She missed Mike. It was like missing air. It choked her, and she gasped at the torn memories in the darkness.
The sound of the door unlocking caught her attention. She expected to see a large figure appear through the frame, but was disappointed to see the other man – the creepy one, the killer – walk through. She had thought of many names for him.
Her distaste for this man was beyond her comprehension. He was Mike's killer. Even if he had never told her, she would have known. The way his eyes would shift, the fall of his footsteps – confident, yet light - and the tone in his voice when he spoke was unnerving. They were the movements of a murderer.
He carried something in his hand as he stepped into the same room with her.
She pushed herself off the cold floor and wrapped her arms around her stomach.
Jessica wasn't the person for violence, she never condoned it, but the hate she felt at the sight of him, the anger for what he did, was almost her undoing. She wanted to reach through the bars and strangle him.
He smiled at her thoughts. He wanted to test her, to push her to the limits of sanity. He knew how she felt down here alone. He had been listening to her thoughts from the top of the stairs for a couple of hours. Mostly, she had been thinking about her dead boyfriend, Mike.
Even though it was no longer morning, he had prepared a small plate of breakfast food for her, including the leftovers from last night.
He set the small plate on the stool next to the open door.
"Still grieving I see. I had forgotten how delicate death is," he said.
His hands still held a small tint of blood. Only time could rid his skin of such an enormous amount after it had soaked into his pores. But he enjoyed it, the feel of it.
Jessica said nothing as she watched his fingers bend around each other. The tint of red against other flashes of pale skin did not go unnoticed.
"I hope you're hungry," he said. "I've taken the liberty of putting a plate together for you. My servant is otherwise engaged in his chores; otherwise he would have done it. That being said, I must apologize. My culinary skills are quite poor."
She was hungry, but didn't feel much like eating, especially anything that he cooked.
"No thank you," she said sternly yet quietly, holding his gaze.
"It's rude to not accept something from a host. It's considered disrespectful," he said.
"I don't have to accept anything from you. You killed Mike," she said. The words burned her chest and weakened her limbs. A new wave of tears stung her nose.
"Only a little," he responded with a slight shake of his head, and then took an unnecessary breath. "He killed himself, really. You were there, you remember."
She didn't want to remember. She didn't want to see the images again, but with his words the filter broke and the memory seeped as it stretched over her mind. When he was brought back to he basement, he was already dead and covered in blood. The blood was the most difficult to forget. His contorted face and the paleness of his skin were unnatural; his body ridding itself of the vital fluid through the gashes and holes that had been created.
"You remember it very well," he whispered.
She hugged herself tighter, as if she could shield herself from his words. She wondered how he knew what he did. Were her face or expressions that easy to read?
"I can tell you something," he said to her gently but without heart. "It might make you feel better."
He stepped closer to the cell, watching Jessica back away from him. She wasn't taking any chances.
"When I was born, for the second time, I was given a special gift. Upon waking, I realized that I heard voices, thoughts, other than my own."
This intrigued Jessica. What did he mean the second time?
"You can imagine the kind of power one could have. No one could lie to me. There wasn't a secret that could be hidden. And as time went on and killing humans became routine I noticed patterns in the thoughts of those about to die. They always thought of the ones they loved the most.
"A husband would want nothing more than to see his wife again. A wife, her husband. A mother, her child. Sometimes there was more than one face in their blood. And sometimes, there was nothing at all. Those that were at a loss for love never saw anyone. But… that was always exceptionally rare. You would think that a person would have someone to love."
He paused to allow her to process the information.
"Mike, was one of those rare humans. Right before he died, when he was running for his life like a coward, he thought of nothing but himself. His only thought was that he didn't want to die, even though he knew he would. I never saw your face in those moments... not once. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
Jessica shook her head.
"You should be thankful that I got rid of him for you. I did you a favor from making the biggest mistake of your life, not that it would really matter anyhow."
"You're crazy," she said.
"I am not crazy... just insightful."
"So, you're going to just kill me?"
"Yes," he answered simply, resting his forehead against the bars.
"Why are you doing this? I mean, I don't understand."
He released the bars and stepped around to the side of the cell, wanting to make her heart flutter in fear. He was successful.
"There are things in this world Jessica that you will not understand. Yes, you will die. That's all you need to know."
Die.
The word held so much meaning. Her mind began to race with possibilities, and he allowed them to fester for a moment before continuing.
"So, would you like to hear how you will die?"
"No," she said. "You won't get your chance. Angela is going for help, and when it comes they're going to lock you away forever."
"No one is ever coming for you. By the time you're reported missing, your body will already be out of my furnace and on its way down the stream to the Chattahoochee."
A sneer stretched his lips across his teeth. "Your last moments will be spent staring into the shadows, wondering when I'll be coming for you. You're going to think about your death, and even picture it. You're going to worry about the pain you'll feel; the thing that you fear the most… and I'll be listening."
She sniffled and her esophagus closed for a moment from the stress.
He silently stepped to the door. "If you knew time as well as I did, you wouldn't want to waste it on petty things such as Michael Newton."
He left her there in the darkness to cry and putrefy without a second glance at the food or water he had left on the stool.
=x=
Bella spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon searching the ground for a rock with a serrated edge. She finally found one that was sharp enough to do both tasks she had to complete.
She shredded the skirt of the white dress, cutting it off far above the knees. Instantly her legs felt cooler, but now she felt like a ballerina with a poor excuse of a tutu. She sighed, tucked a thick piece of fabric into her bra, and then splashed a small amount of water on the rock to clean the edge. She took a deep breath. It wouldn't take much to draw blood, but she wasn't looking forward to the pain.
She pressed the edge to her palm, breathed deeply, and then began to push the point into her flesh. Her eyes squeezed shut against the deep, gnawing pain that awoke the nerves in her hand.
She ground her teeth together as she pushed harder to force the rock to tear her skin. A growl escaped her lips, then a bellowing cry.
"Come on," she said between her clenched teeth, and pushed the edge harder.
A new burn throbbed, followed by a sharp pain that tore across her palm
She cried out then breathed. A tear escaped from her lid.
Thick blood seeped from the large, new opening, pulsing into the afternoon air. The rock fell from her hands and she held out her unscathed palm to catch the falling drops of the one thing that would send the predator running once he caught the scent.
Bella smeared the blood on trunks of trees, starting near the tree-line and working her way to the wall.
She squeezed her wrist and her hand, coaxing out more blood; it was more than willing to supply it.
She slung it around her into the bushes, onto the forest floor, but mostly onto the wall. She slung it high onto the bricks and onto the tree that Angela had climbed.
She closed her eyes at the thought of her and allowed her soiled hand to linger on the bark.
"I'm so sorry, Ang," she said to the memory while fresh tears crept down her face. Her new wound wasn't the only thing that ached. Her chest burned with guilt.
She finished marking the trees then washed of her hand with a splash of water. She wrapped it up in the large piece of fabric she had saved.
Several yards away from where she placed the final smear of blood, Bella calmly sat on the ground and poked underneath the grass. The soil was soft enough to dig into with a few sticks.
With one final swig from the bottle, she poured the rest into the hole she had dug in the ground. She worked diligently as she applied the moistened dirt over every inch of her bare skin, and then worked on the remains of her clothes. It stuck to her well.
"Ghost," she smiled slightly.
It was her hope that her scent would be masked by the mud, and Edward would be distracted by the drops of blood she left all through the woods. Too distracted to notice she had moved away from where the drops ended. It would make sense to leave traces of what he wanted most and while he searched for her, she could make her way back into the house to find Eric and Jessica.
She didn't believe Emmett would be a problem due to his lack of hearing, but if she was spotted by him she would fight. One man would not ruin her chance of escape if she had gotten that far, if the plan even worked.
Bella was worried about Edward's ability, though. Would he hear her as she hid close to the tree line? How close did he have to be to read her thoughts? She was uncertain, and that was her biggest fear. Only her thoughts would betray her location. The mud wouldn't have to last long, just long enough to hide her scent so she could walk to her hiding place.
She covered the hole she dug with twigs and made her way to where she would wait for the rest of the day. The air was surprisingly nice. The cover of trees kept her cool, and the new condition of the skirt made her even cooler.
She made sure to not touch any of her surroundings; the only contact was her shoes against the ground.
She ducked down into the thick brush, contemplating sleep but deciding against it. She had to be alert when he appeared outside of his house. If she looked away for one second then the plan would fail and he would find her.
Her heart raced at the potential danger that would come in a few hours. The heavy swishing of her pulse rang through her ears. It was the only sound that seemed to have any meaning – a heartbeat; proof that life still existed within her. The more it rang, the more she wanted to live, the more she wanted to get out of this alive and salvage any last ties that she may have lost with Angela's death.
=x=
Night had fallen slowly. The darkness crept gently over the blue sky, replacing the vibrant hues with a mass of stars and their hopeful twinkles.
Edward pulled the curtains closed in his darkened library, cutting off the moonlight and the iridescent stars. They were almost too bright for his sensitive eyes, holding color that no mortal could behold.
He cared not for their brilliance. He never cared for things that he could not touch with his own hands, or feel with his own lips.
He cared for blood, and the boundless thirst that consumed him. He was a slave; a servant to the means of his existence. Even now, he could not rid himself of it.
The gush of fluid last night was enough to hold over the desire for a short time, but it wasn't nearly enough. The blood was thin, and his body absorbed it too quickly.
Edward ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth, swiping away the thick coat of venom that had clung to the rock-like enamel; a tell-tale sign that his body was ready for more.
He swallowed the pool that had formed quickly.
Thinking about his thirst produced more and more of the venom. His throat, the pain that he felt in a sudden shift, grated on his nerves. It flared in protest against the lack of blood. It was becoming dry, and it nearly drove him mad with tenacious hunger.
This made him even more agitated, and he began to pace. He carelessly stepped on his books, the human thing he treasured most. He grew quite aware that he would later regret their destroyed state, and he attempted to right the situation.
He threw them to one side of the room. Their screams of fluttering pages told him that he had betrayed them and for a moment he regretted how he had handled them.
"I'm sorry," he said to the book-favored side of the room. That's all he could say before a flare lit his throat, taking it up in flames along with the last of his patience.
He didn't know how much longer he would be able to wait.
He contemplated on serving Jessica her death now. It would be satisfying to feel her gush into his mouth.
But the hunt!
The anticipation of finding a treasure in the dark would be first. It was what he had waited for all day. It was what he lived for.
The hunt, then torture.
Bella wanted time and she would have it. She would be mounted on the wall, tied by rope or hooks as he bit into her. He imagined how and where he would bite her so she could have her precious time.
The wrist was always ideal. A small bite would produce just enough blood.
Her neck, just under her ear, would bear his mark. It was always the hottest there.
He imagined stripping her of her clothing and watching the juice flow between her breasts.
The teasing shades of red against her fair skin; it would be a beautiful sight to behold.
She would seep slowly, her blood collecting in buckets, while she watched her last friend die in front of her. All of her pain and emotions would run free, and he would savor every drop.
Yes, she would have her precious time.
He tore himself from the misshapen room and into the dark halls of his manor. Not a single movement caught his attention as he made his way to the back door.
The vampire burst into the night, and didn't waste anytime breathing in the fresh air.
No human scents.
He ran to the tree line, knelt, and then stuck his nose into the grass.
Bella's scent was faint, but it was there. She had picked up the items and retreated back under the cover of the trees. His eyes grew dark with anticipation. He would enjoy hunting her.
He rose from the ground.
His nerves were calmed slightly now that he had taken in a breath of her scent. He walked quickly, taking care to not run. He wanted to preserve this anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Preservation sank.
The world lit up with unimaginable imagery, yet the shadows became darker.
His body tensed as his senses absorbed a familiar, wonderful smell. It shuddered and his mind was overcome with a frantic need.
His pace quickened.
His vision sharpened, and he was at a tree trunk, inhaling the bark with long, drawn out breaths.
"She's bleeding," he said gruffly against the strain of his tight, dry throat.
The time to think was not with him.
Time, had in fact, quickened. The seconds could no longer be wasted and there existed no such thing as savoring the moment – the moments had already passed him by.
He pushed off the balls of his feet and leaped into the darkness. His search led him from tree to tree. It only took him a moment to inhale the new trace of her blood that called to him.
It was all around, the beckoning of a sweet entity that he would soon drink. The flames no longer lingered in his throat; his arms and chest began to feel the burn, his body drying from his overexertion.
He needed the blood.
The pain was intolerable as he pushed harder into the trees, bounding from the trunks.
As he expected, the search had led him to the wall, but she wasn't there. There was no thought around him other than his own; no voice to hint at where a human was hiding in the darkness.
He touched the cool bricks.
She had been here.
He stepped back and sniffed the tree that held droplets of her essence.
She had been on the tree.
He studied the branches, their curve and the length. If she had made it up the trunk, she could easily swing onto the wall, but not without injury.
He climbed the tree with ease and ran across the branch, stepping too quickly to weigh it down.
Edward leaped over the wall, landing on the other side. His presence interrupted the lives of the animals in the vicinity. The vibrations in the air changed, static with danger; they knew a predator was near.
He stuck his nose to the ground to search for her again.
Nothing; no blood, or oddity.
He inhaled the air but it smelled of forest life. She had not been here.
The hunted had outwitted the hunter.
=x=
It had been more than twenty-four hours since she had slept. She was tired, but forced herself to stay awake. She kept telling herself that Jessica's and Eric's life depended on it. Their lives depended on her watching for Edward to emerge from his house.
And it did.
But as she watched the same spot for hours her mind grew quiet, her thoughts ceasing to carry on with the mission. The forest grew murky as her eyes grew heavy with persistence to close.
But it did not stay that way for long.
A loud bang startled her awake. Before she had the chance to wonder what made the noise, Bella's mind went black and thoughtless as he emerged from the backdoor of his house. She pressed herself into the forest floor, peeking through the shrubbery as he stuck his face into the ground.
She took calm breaths and was careful to not think of anything as he lifted himself and walked into the trees.
He would find what she left there, and hoped it would fuel the hunt.
She carefully lifted herself from the foliage and stepped out onto the lawn, watching for any signs of movement.
She ran faster than she ever had in her life, pushing her tired legs and body to carry on.
As she neared the house, she noticed that the door was standing wide open. She silently thanked God and trembled as she set foot on the stairs that led to the back sun-room.
She kept her hands by her side as she entered, not touching the door or the frame as her dirtied body and dress slid into the house.
Inside the manor, it was cold and smelled odd, stranger than it had before. It was no stale. A stench lingered in the air, like an unappetizing meal had been cooked.
Adrenaline flooded her veins, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. She had to work fast to find Jessica and Eric so they could get out the front door and away from this horror of a place. But where would they go from there? They certainly couldn't run to town.
She stepped through the house guardedly, but swiftly. Where would he have taken Jessica and Eric? Heavy footsteps approached which caused her heard to sink. She was panicked and searched for somewhere to hide, but it was too late.
A large hand grabbed her at the shoulder.
She tried to fight it off, but stopped once she realized Emmett was shushing her with his finger over his mouth. He put both of his hands in front of him, a gesture of surrender or I'm not going to hurt you.
Bella took a step back, confused. What was he doing?
He was frantic. He tried to sign to her, but stopped, perhaps realizing that she didn't understand what he was trying to say.
He mouthed something quickly but the movement escaped Bella.
She furrowed her brow and shook her head. She didn't understand.
Emmett let out a thick sigh.
He started to move down the hall and motioned for her to follow him.
She did, and wasted no time. There wasn't a bad feeling, or a twinge in her stomach to warn her of potential danger. There was something trusting about the smiles they had exchanged before. She trusted him.
After walking down a long hall, he opened the door to a dark stairwell leading down to the basement. He held out his hands in front of him again then pulled a key out of his pocket.
He flew down the stairs. His footsteps were heavy and quick.
A moment later he returned pulling Jessica up behind him. Bella's heart fluttered with relief and excitement and as soon as Jessica was up the stairs Bella pulled her friend in for a hug.
Jessica, already sodden with sobs, sputtered and began to cry even harder. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her clothes were dirty.
But the most noticeable feature was the stench that rolled off her body. Rot and feces were horrid by themselves but when combined it made Bella gag.
She pushed Jessica away. "Where's Eric?"
Jessica shook her head. "I saw him last night. He was with that guy. He left with him... and never came back... why are you wearing that dress?"
"We have to leave," Bella said in a hushed tone. "We have to leave, now!"
"We can't leave Eric," Jessica responded as they started to hasten down the hall. Emmett followed.
Bella closed her eyes tightly. The words forming in her head hurt, but she knew they were true. "Eric is dead, Jess... so is Angela."
"No! He let Angela go," Jessica responded. "She can't be…"
Her chest tightened. "He let her go so he could..." Bella couldn't bring herself to say it. She couldn't bring herself to think of Angela's death again. It was always on her mind, but saying it aloud was another demon entirely.
Emmett placed a hand on Bella's arm, and held up his hands once again to tell them to stop, perhaps wait. He ran into the kitchen.
"I don't understand," Jessica said as she folded her arms across her stomach.
Bella shook her head. She didn't understand either, not really.
Just then, a loud bang rang through the halls. Its echoed sentiments were hollow and angry, and hit Bella's heart with a heavy burden. Her eyes widened at the unmusical notes.
"What was that?" Jessica asked looking around.
"Come on." Bella pulled Jessica into a run.
Jessica staggered behind, her weight was heavy on Bella's arm then it was suddenly ripped away with a terrifying scream.
Bella turned to see Edward holding Jessica, peering from behind her head, her eyes were wide with horror.
It was the same situation that she had seen nearly twenty-four hours ago; the monster poised in a strike position.
Edward glanced over her appearance; muddy from head to toe, the dress covered in dirt.
"So, the prey has evolved," he said gently. "I'm impressed, Bella, but I hope you wiped off your feet before you came into my house."
"Let her go," Bella said.
Jessica whimpered.
"We've done this before," Edward said as he shuffled his feet toward Bella, pushing Jessica forward with his body. "We were in this exact position last night when you spoke those words. I didn't listen to you then, what makes you think I'll listen to you now?"
"Because I have something that you want."
"Not anything different than what I can take from your friend here." He placed a sharp, finger-nailed hand over her cheek and stroked it carefully with a gleaming smile.
It wasn't going to happen again!
Bella launched herself at Edward, grabbing at his face, his hair, his clothes; what ever she could get her hands around.
He knocked her to the ground with a stiff hand.
Bella gathered herself off the floor and stood erect. She went at him again but he knocked her away like she was a pesky fly.
"I'm glad you'll get to see this," Edward directed towards her as she tried to lift herself off the floor. "Another friend... dead in front of you."
Bella gasped for air. He had hit her chest, nearly knocking the breath from her lungs.
There was a silence that had overcome the room. The breathing was stinted, and the heartbeats grew quiet. In their place, there was a clicking sound that only lasted for one second. It was a sound that Bella had heard before; many times before.
And then, it happened all at once. Edward's ears and eyes became aware of what was behind him, what was pointed at him.
The unmistakable sound of a trigger being pulled.
The bullet loading in the chamber; its exit – an explosion – as it left the barrel.
He stepped to the left and pushed Jessica directly in its path.
It struck her low in her right shoulder, and then she crumpled to the floor, falling out of Edward's arms. She cried in pain and put a hand over the entry wound.
Emmett lowered the gun and his mouth gaped open, his chest heaved with guilt at what he had done – what he had not meant to do.
"Emmett, you're a horrible shot," Edward said with a smile even though the deaf man couldn't hear him.
His servant had finally grown a pair, and while this pleased Edward, it also angered him. The smell of blood in the air, the sweet perfume was tempting and nearly pushed him over the brink of bloodlust.
But there was one thing he had to attend to first before he could enjoy his desserts.
His movements sounded like wind whipping between two objects, and before Emmett could take a running step, Edward was already in front of him, heaving his hands into his chest.
Emmett's feet left the floor while the gun left his hand with force and landed behind Edward.
He watched Emmett soar across the kitchen and hit the back wall. He went for him again, wanting to push him into unconsciousness but careful to not cause fatal injury. Emmett was, after all, one of his most prized possessions. He was the only human that he had ever come across who was immune to his power.
Scrambled words floated around him, but he couldn't make out the mess of thoughts as he was about to attack his servant once again. They belonged to Jessica, or Bella, may be both.
Then, the scene was too clear in his mind.
He turned slowly, peering over his shoulder at first to the image that had developed behind him.
Her teeth were showing, a scowl angling her eyes into points of fury. She raised her arms, her injured hand supporting the other that carried a tool of destruction.
He may be a horrible shot, but I'm not, Bella thought.
Her father had taught her well.
The hunter was frozen in disbelief and misjudgment as she aimed the barrel. She squeezed the trigger.
The bullet loaded in the chamber; its exit – an explosion – as it left.
It found a home, nestled in the vampire's eye socket. He fell back in a slump, his limbs motionless as he hit the floor.
He didn't get back up.
Bella released the breath she had taken before firing the weapon. Her head fell and she lifted the black gun to study it once more, knowing instantly who it belonged to: Mike.
She knelt beside Jessica who was still squirming in pain.
"Are you okay, Jess?" she asked.
"Someone shot me," she responded.
"You're going to be okay," Bella said reassuringly. "We need to get you to a hospital. Come on, you need to stand up."
"I don't think I can. It hurts."
"I know, but you need to. We have to get out of here."
Limp, uneven footsteps advanced towards the girls with a slight jingle sounding around them.
A pair of keys dangled in front of Bella's face. She looked up at Emmett, who was holding them gently in his hands. His face was scratched, his nose and mouth leaking blood. His eyes spoke of his pain and his exhaustion.
He gestured for her to take them by moving the keys softly, and she did with a grin that only teased the corner of one eye.
He leaned down on the other side of Jessica and picked her up. He groaned under the strain of her weight, pushing his new internal wounds from pain to side-splitting agony.
He breathed through it and huffed as Jessica wrapped an arm around his neck. Bella stood and quickly walked behind them as they went through a part of the house she was not familiar.
Emmett stopped in front of a door which Bella quickly unlocked and opened. It was dark inside this room, and smelled of rubber. She found the switch right beside the door and flicked it on.
It was a garage full of new, shiny, mostly-black cars; among them, a single red convertible. She pressed the unlock button on the remote. A car flashed its lights and the doors unlocked.
She realized then that her clothes were still in the room she had stayed in and she could run and grab them, but she didn't want to go back in the house. She wanted to be as far away as possible, for her sake and for Jessica's.
She opened the back door of the Mercedes so Emmett could lay Jessica down. He groaned and huffed again as he placed her in the backseat. He bent her knees so he wouldn't close the door on her feet then stepped back away from the car.
Bella opened the driver's side door, and turned back to Emmett.
"Come on," she said, and gestured with her hand. She wanted him to get in and go with her.
He grinned, jutted a thumb towards the door, and shrugged his shoulders.
Her frame sank as she realized what he meant. He wasn't coming.
She understood, or at least she thought. Perhaps he had things he had to get, or things he had to do before he left. There were more cars, and he could follow once he was finished, but she felt bad for leaving him here by himself, with the body of that thing still in the house, but she had no choice; Jessica needed a hospital.
Thank you, she mouthed.
He nodded once, a slight bow as though it appeared. His eyes were soft with kindness, something she was sure he had to mask for a long time.
Bella turned her back to him and slid into the car. The cool leather felt nice against her legs as she sank into the seat.
Emmett was already pushing an illuminated button which raised the garage door.
He watched her pull away and down the drive before he closed the door to the house, sealing himself inside with the unconscious vampire.
He knew the gun wouldn't kill him, only distract. He didn't know if Bella had a stroke of luck by penetrating his eye, the softest place on his body, but he was relieved. It would give him the time that he would need to kill Edward, the only way that a vampire could be destroyed.
He recalled discussing the specifics with him one day, thinking it was some Lord of the Rings bullshit. Edward had told him that fire was his maker, and it was the only thing that could destroy him.
And into the fire he would go.
Emmett pulled out a lighter from a kitchen drawer, and then ventured into the library to retrieve the brandy that Edward kept.
He poured a small amount of the flammable liquid onto the grand piano and lit it. The wood caught flame and a sea of fire came to life, sending heat blazing into the house.
He could feel it on his cold skin as he lied motionless on the floor.
Into the fire he would go.
Big thanks to Luna Starfire who helped me flesh out the pieces to this chapter. She's awesome!
Song: I'm Not A Hero, composed by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard
(A very strong instrumental that is perfect for the intense hunting scene.)
=x=
Fey (the chapter title) means "doomed; destined to die".