Chapter Six: The Only Thing that Stays the Same is Change
I awoke tiredly, the world was still dark and blurry. But it wasn't my alarm that woke me, instead it was a warm hand on my shoulder. I was shocked somehow, I'd gotten used to Edward's cool touch; the warmth and softness of a human hand jolted me more than the early wake-up.
"Adele's not breathing," Mr. Winter's shocked face and his quiet words were a silhouette in the dim light. And then he was gone.
I pulled myself from my bed, a slightly numb feeling taking over my body. I trudged tiredly, but it seemed I moved remarkably fast, emerging in the living room and standing before Mrs. Winter's still form.
Was it wrong to say I wasn't surprised. I had been able to sense the death lingering over this house for some time now. Seeing Mrs. Winters curled up in her chair, just as she had been the night before, unmoving and still, I wasn't at all surprised. I wasn't sad either, but I was sorry to see her go. She had been kind to me, in her way, and I had nothing to begrudge her for.
My hand brushed her face gently as I made a move to wrap her more tightly in the blankets. An odd gesture, her skin had grown cool but not yet cold. But her expression was loose, all the muscles in her face had released and death had its grip on her. Still, somehow the glowing happiness of her previous day of health hadn't faded. She seemed rested, peaceful even. Death hadn't been a struggle or something terrible, and for that I knew she was lucky.
Mr. Winters wasn't yet given to such reflection. Human life grows more filled with loss the more time passes. He was still new to this sense of loss in many ways.
"I'll call," I said, guiding him to the couch.
He fell rather than sat, and he clutched his face in his hands unwilling to even look at me.
The dry impersonal process of death today was odd to me. Or so I noted as I made the call to Hospice. I'd never met any nurses or doctors, but I knew they provided Mrs. Winters morphine and oxygen. I'd found a phone number a few days ago and tucked it somewhere convenient.
"This is the Winters house, she's…dead," I said gently into the receiver.
"One moment please," the empty voice on the phone said.
"Terminal lung cancer," I continued tiredly, "She's been sick for some time. Can you send someone, I don't think her husband is up to making the calls."
"And who am I speaking to," the voice wanted to know.
"Bella Swan, they've been looking after me. I don't know who they wanted to call. Mr. Winters can't talk right now."
The voice on the other end of the line paused, "We'll send someone. Do you want me to stay on the line?"
"No, I'm fine." I hung up the phone and stood uncertainly.
I'd buried my share of bodies. Now they had people who took care of things, but once there was no one to call but neighbors and friends. Wash the body, oils and perfume, dress them in their best. Somewhere else the men would be digging the grave. And when words were muttered over them you did your best to say goodbye.
I rather wished it could be the same again. It felt wrong somehow to have strangers take her away.
I crossed to the kitchen and looked out the window, the sun was rising bold and bright. Birds were chirping in the woods and the morning with slick with dew.
Edward had been right, it was going to be a beautiful day.
I sat in the Winters's living room and was unsure what to do with myself, perhaps it would have been better if I had gone to school. It was Friday, what was I supposed to be doing? Was there a test? But the Winters's house was abuzz with the activity death can bring, and somehow I couldn't leave. Mr. Winters had a sister of sorts, a married woman with thick red hair (dyed) who had come down from Port Angeles. She had brought along two children, both only a few years younger than me.
The children, a boy and a girl, were arguing over what to watch on television while Mr. Winters and his sister spoke in the kitchen. Although from what I could tell the conversation was rather one-sided.
"What could Adele have been thinking," I heard his sister say through the door. "Bringing a teenager here, what was she expecting you to do?"
Mr. Winters muttered something that was too low to hear.
"I don't know why you didn't tell me about this. I knew she was sick but I didn't know she'd gotten this bad. You never call me." She sighed, "But don't worry, I'll take care of everything, I don't suppose Adele left and word on what she wanted-"
My attention drifted back to the living room as the conversation shifted away from me and back to the endless questions involving funeral arrangement.
The boy was probably fifteen and he seemed to be in a surprisingly good mood, the girl, maybe thirteen, was less so.
"It's sort of good luck that it happened on the day of a Math test," the boy said cheerfully, "You think I'll have to make it up."
"I don't see why we had to come," the girl complained.
The boy rolled his eyes, "So, I guess we're sort of cousins," he said with a curious tilt in my direction.
"Err, don't know about that," I said honestly. I'd hardly been here long.
"Yeah, guess. So did you see her?" He had deep blue eyes and they were honestly curious. I suppose he'd never known anyone who had died before.
"Yeah," I said with a nod.
"Cool. We didn't know Aunt Adele much," the boy said. "She and mom didn't…well they didn't agree on much. And Uncle Brian was always a little..." he shrugged.
The girl leaned back on the sofa and an annoyed expression remained fixed on her face.
The TV changed to a different channel and this seemed to hold the boy's attention because it drifted away from me and his gaze attached itself to the screen. The girl must have decided to accept her situation and she watched the screen tiredly.
I had no interest in the television which meant my mind was left to wonder about less pleasant things. Like what was going to become of me. It was selfish I supposed, but Mrs. Winters was beyond worry, and nothing could be done for Mr. Winters; he'd just have to figure out his grief on his own.
My position was a little more tenuous, and judging from the conversation in the kitchen I was wondering how many more days I'd have in Forks.
"If there is an emergency number you should call it and have them get her," Mr. Winter's sister's voice crept quietly out from kitchen. "I think this qualifies as an emergency."
I couldn't hear Mr. Winter's response.
I found myself dreading leaving more than I thought I would. Once again shuffled into the busy world of the foster system, shelved in group homes. I'd never minded before, it was only until I was eighteen. But now the concept of leaving Forks seemed- I didn't want to think about it.
"Hello dear," My new 'aunt' said with a voice filled with false cheer. Her dyed hair was curled very tightly and she smiled sweetly down at me. "Let me speak with you, just for a moment."
I stood rigidly; my eyes fastened swiftly on Mr. Winters who was standing in the doorway looking like a strong breeze would knock him over, I'd get no help from him. I followed the redhead down the hall and stood outside of my bedroom.
"Well dear," she said in the same sweet voice, "It must have been a difficult day for you."
I nodded.
"Well, my brother is going to come and stay with me for a few days, he's upset as I'm sure you can imagine. And…well…." She strung her words with a frown now. "He was wondering if you could stay with a friend for a few days. Until he's back." She clearly didn't think he was going to be back, and she didn't seem to agree with what she was saying.
I nodded weakly, "Yeah, I can…I'll stay with some friends from school."
"That's good," she said. Her eyes left me as soon as she turned her back, and I knew that I was no longer any of her concern.
I turned to my room and entered it wondering what this meant. Was Mr. Winter going to keep me? Was he perhaps arguing that point with his sister? I hadn't expected that, and perhaps this was just their way of breaking the news to me easily. But I was glad not to be shipped away today. I crossed to my dresser. My black garbage bag had never been thrown away, just tucked under the bed. I knew well enough not to settle in too heavily. I loaded up the clothes I had brought with me. My gaze flickered for a moment to ones that remained in the closet. But I turned back to the dresser and only packed the cat statue that remained. I left Alice's gifts behind, I couldn't take them with me.
I ducked out the back door, I didn't want to have to tell them where I was going. I didn't want to be offered a ride; I didn't want to have to make up a destination for them, because, frankly, I didn't have any idea where I could go.
The most obvious place was Edward's house, and part of me ached to go there. Go there and eat Esme's delicious dinners, enjoy Alice's generosity, and most of all to put my worries on Edward's strong shoulder; or at the very least share them with him so I wouldn't have to carry them alone.
But I couldn't just arrive there, uninvited. While I'd come to trust Edward, and I believed in his family's adherence to their scruples…there were simply too many unanswered questions. Had Jasper come to accept me? Had Edward told his family about my unique existence? Could his family truly contain their hunger if they were constantly exposed to humans? Several hours of school was one thing, but twenty-four hours a day?
It was hard to shake the feeling of homelessness as I slung my bag and a backpack over my shoulder and walked away leaving the Winters's home behind me. I'd come to think of it as my home, even if it were only for a brief period of time. But I refused the sentimental desire to turn around and give it one last look. The house was precious, if only because Edward had been here with me. Our time here had been some of the most intimate I'd experienced, perhaps even among the twelve.
As I walked, I was extra careful to stay well off the road and headed into town, perhaps optimistically hoping that I might be able to think of something along the way.
What about Jessica, she was human which solved the majority of my problems concerning the Cullens. But somehow the idea of exposing her to the difficulties in my life seemed inappropriate. She had been a good school friend for me, someone to talk to and eat lunch with. But I'd never confided anything important to her and seemed to spend much of my time lying to her.
Edward was the only one who knew anything real about me.
And Mike, my other good friend, I couldn't go to him for several reasons.
It wasn't until I was passing a small diner, the parking lot filled with trucks and semis, that I realized how hungry I was. I hadn't eaten anything all day and after walking for a couple miles under the blinding sun a nice hunger had come upon me. I'd spotted the place several times before, walked past it on my way home from school. It was diner on the outskirts of town that catered mostly to the long haul truckers who occasionally came through Forks. Its other patrons were usually the more backwoods inhabitants of Forks, the kind who didn't want to bother putting on clean shirts and shoes before getting something to eat.
But right now the greasy fare it offered appealed to me, and perhaps anywhere that provided a place to think would have been likewise desirable.
The place was as dirty outside as in the main room, which was painted an obnoxious yellow, was filled a little too tightly with some tattered booths and mismatched tables. Most of the crowd at this hour consisted of a few men in caps seated at the counter. They had papers spread out and were eating sandwiches and hamburgers.
I entered and the one waitress at the counter looked at me blankly.
"Can I take a booth?" I asked.
She eyed the garbage bag and backpack, both obviously full, and her lips pursed questionably. I stood hesitantly and eventually she nodded, jerking her head to on in the front. "That one's clean," she mentioned.
I shrugged and settled myself in the booth, arranging my belongings in the seat across from mine. What did she think I was I wondered, runaway perhaps, or even more unflattering some teen hustler working the truck stop crowd? But could I blame her?
The menus were tucked between the ketchup and the ashtray. I fiddled with the paper for a moment before deciding what to eat.
"What do you want hun," the same woman from behind the counter asked. Up close I could read the plastic nametag that was perched on her uniform. Dawn. The name didn't fit the worn out face she had, her eyes were tired and her brows were heavily wrinkled.
"Chicken Sandwich," I ordered.
She looked at me for a moment, "Anything to drink with that?"
"Water," I requested.
"Mmhmm," she nodded, penciling in my order and walking away.
After that was done, and I found myself settled, tiredness overcame me. Maybe I should have expected all my energy to leave me after all that had happened today. I had hoped to spend my time thinking of my next steps, but my mind was blank and I stared forward not thinking anything at all.
It was times like this that I knew underneath my unique history I was still only seventeen. Edward had wondered about this and I'd explained it very badly, how could you be both young and old? But at this moment I felt seventeen and lost, so very lost in a world that seemed very lonely.
Edward asked me why I went to Marius, and this was the reason too.
"Here you go," Dawn said plopping down my sandwich on the table. Once again her eyes drifted to the bags I carried with me, but she didn't ask any questions and just walked away.
I ate mechanically, and when I was finished I continued sitting, not wanting to decide what to do next.
It was growing dark by the time I'd left the small diner. I'd stayed in the booth I'd been given for most of the afternoon, skimming a paperback I'd tucked in my backpack from the school library, and even ordering dinner too. The waitress who served me continued looking at me questionably, but thankfully the dinner hour had brought a crowd of truckers and she was too preoccupied getting them their orders. Still she seemed noticeably more relaxed when I fished through my pockets to find the cash I had on hand. I paid and left a tip, and once again I was outside.
I'd decided not to go anywhere. Or more specifically, to simply spend the night camping in the thick woods that surrounded Forks. I'd endured cold nights outdoors before, and probably would again. It wouldn't be difficult to find myself a quiet place to bunk for the night. I could make a fire, I had food in my stomach, and my winter coat would provide enough heat for the spring chill. I'd lived under worse conditions. Maybe tomorrow I could make a better decision.
I trudged between the lined up trucks, headed for the woods that were in the rear of the diner. They would serve as well as any others. I felt pleased with myself with being independent.
"You looking for a place for the night?" a voice asked me.
I turned my head and saw a middle aged man, he had a cap pulled down over his eyes and a bristly gray beard. He was leaning against the door to his semi, his gaze looking me over in way that felt uncomfortable. He licked his lips and tossed aside the cigarette he had been smoking.
"No, I'm fine," I said backing away. I was hardly naive and I could envision what this man was after.
"Pretty thing like you," he moved closer as he spoke, "I'd give you a warm place to sleep, some good food, and even money in the morning. Why don't you climb in?" he opened the door to the truck cab.
I hesitated. I had no intention of agreeing, but I felt a slight chill as his words. So this really was how people saw me, and even though it wasn't true, for a moment the shame burned. Because I really was close to what this man thought I was, another homeless teenage hustler. All my knowledge of the world, all my lifetimes, and I was no closer to finding my place in it.
Except those few moments with Edward, then I'd felt oddly right. As if I was where I was supposed to be. Which was ridiculous.
But I hadn't been paying attention to the here and now, Marius said half of my clumsiness was due to this flaw.
The man was next to me, no longer leaning on his truck, "That's a good girl," he said his hand moving swiftly and reaching under my elbow to lead me inside.
"No, " I said firmly, pulling my arm away and turning to run.
But he was quicker, and he grabbed my arm with speed and confidence. Marius's fighting lesson flashed into my head. I remembered what he told me about the sensitive areas to aim for. Groin, eyes, throat. My lack of agility had always worked against me in self defense but I used my leverage and my elbow as a weapon and aimed for his throat. I struck hard and he coughed as the air was pushed out of his larynx.
But I hadn't hit him hard enough, I realized this with a sinking feeling as his grip didn't lessen and he used his strength to fling me with full force into the hard metal of his truck. My back hit with an agonizing pain, but it was the blow to the back of my head that sent my vision flashes of white.
I should have screamed, I noted absently, as my head began to ache and the world spun. I wasn't that far from the diner. If I would've screamed…
I kicked out as I felt him drag me back to the truck. But the truck door was open and so close, and my legs felt oddly weak and my thoughts were disorganized.
Scream, I begged silently. Scream. But my voice couldn't seem to work, and even as I opened my lips the sound was so weak.
I was being dragged into the cab of his truck, and that would be the end of it. I knew it.
A low growl disturbed the strange silence that encompassed the attack.
And then time slipped away far too fast. The man's hands were ripped away from me, his nails stung my skin. His presence was gone, disappeared, and I hung weakly from the door of his truck wondering what had happened.
When I focused my eyes I found him slumped on the ground, a body sized dent in his truck, and standing looking like an avenging demon…
"Edward," I managed hoarsely. My voice still was weak and I wasn't entirely certain that I hadn't dreamed his presence.
He turned and the expression on his face was horrifying.
He was next to me before I could blink, his cold hand was on my shoulder and eyes looking down on me.
"Bella," he said my name with a soft moan, his head dipping down to rest his nose in my hair.
"I'm fine," I assured him, although I wasn't really certain if I was. My back and head ached and my legs were trembling. But I forced them to stand steady, or as steady as they could.
But he didn't believe me and his gaze drifted back to the man on the ground.
He swept me into his arms, it was more than apparent that I weighed nothing to him.
"My things," I protested, remembering my backpack and garbage bag that lay scattered on the ground, forgotten in my struggle.
Edward scooped down and carried them wordlessly, it wasn't until I was deposited in his front seat and he was behind the wheel that he made a sound.
"I have to get away from here," he said fiercely.
I had no desire to stay.
"If I stay I'll kill him."
I wouldn't have cared, a part of me knew, but Edward would. "It's alright," I said soothingly, "He didn't do anything, much."
I was trying to assay his anger, but his face grew grimmer, "You couldn't hear the vile things he was thinking."
I was glad I couldn't, my imagination was bad enough.
Not knowing really what to say, I reached my hand out and rested it on his arm. "I missed you," I decided honestly.
It probably hadn't even been twenty-four hours but it was true, I really had missed him. Without him my life had reverted back to the lonely self reliance I'd endured for so long. I hadn't realized how unhappy I had been, not until Edward had found his way inside.
"Me too," he confessed.
It wasn't until we were pulling into the Cullens driveway that I noticed where Edward was taking me. As soon as the car stopped, he was at my door opening it and helping me out. Helping implying once again carrying me as if I was so fragile I might shatter. I bit back my annoyance and remembered how grateful I was that Edward had saved me. Again.
"Carlisle," Edward yelled into the house as soon as we entered.
Dr. Cullen was before us, arriving out of nowhere, he took in Edward's expression and his own turned to a frown.
Edward settled me on a leather couch and Dr. Cullen immediately seemed drawn to the back of my head, which was still aching abominably. His cold fingers brushed over the surface of my skull and for once the vampire's cold hands were greatly appreciated.
"It's only bleeding a little," he mentioned to Edward. He moved to face me, a clever little flashlight was in his hand and he moved the device slowly, watching my eyes closely as the light flashed.
"No concussion," he assured me. "Any nausea? Dizziness?"
"No," I answered honestly. I'd had trouble after being hit, but now the only symptom seemed to be a dull headache.
His hands ghosted down my spine, and I tried to avoid cringing when he reached the place where my back had impacted the truck. It was sore. But my guise couldn't fool a vampire and Dr. Cullens probing fingers once again brushed the sore spot.
"A little tender?" he asked.
"Just a bruise. I've had broken ribs before," I answered with a nod. I could remember enough injuries to know nothing was seriously wrong.
Dr. Cullen sent a gaze at Edward who was still fuming silently.
"Edward?" he said cautiously.
"You don't know how hard it was to walk away from him," he ground out through his teeth. "The things he was thinking, I should have-"
"No," Carlisle said gently, "You were right to walk away. I'm very proud of you."
"She wouldn't be the first he took advantage off," Edward said darkly.
So my assumptions weren't wrong. I looked into my lap.
"Then we will see about getting him the punishment that human law allows," Carlisle said gently. His own eyes looked slightly sharp, perhaps he could tell more clearly than I could exactly what horrors Edward must have seen to spark such a reaction.
"Bella?" Esme's warm voice caused me to turn my head and I accepted the slight pain willingly, her warm concerned face was almost as relieving as Edward's presence.
"What happened?" Esme asked, she moved to stand behind the couch. The slight odor of drying blood must have been a tad too strong for her and she moved away from my head, her eyes still soft and worrying.
"I-" my voice trailed off and I wondered how to describe the day I'd had.
"I went to her house and it was empty," Edward said darkly, his tone losing its warmth. "I looked all over town, I finally found her behind the Robin's Nest Diner, some disgusting man was attacking her."
"Oh dear!" Esme said quickly, her hands flying to her face.
"Why were you there?" Edward demanded, his tone a little harsh.
Esme drew back, "Edward," she said his name warningly.
"Getting something to eat," I said honestly.
"Why weren't you at home."
The thought 'I don't have a home' flittered across my thoughts and I was especially glad he couldn't read my mind. I didn't want to be that pathetic.
"I-" the pause was unavoidable. "Mrs. Winters died last night. Mr. Winters went to stay with his sister for a bit."
Edward seemed to already know. "I smelled death," he said.
He settled down on the couch and rested his head in his hands, "For a moment I worried…" He trailed off weakly.
And then I knew what he had feared. The house had been filled with people, it would have made sensing with any accuracy difficult. He'd found the house vacant and the empty smell of death lingering in the air.
I moved slowly, my hands reaching out and grabbing his wrists. He hesitated for a moment before he helped me move apart his arms. I crouched beside him and bit my lip anxiously.
"It's ok, I'm still here," I said softly. I touched my heart, hoping he could understand that I meant that this body was still intact, this life was still mine.
And once again I was in his arms, his speed made it so I had been lifted close to his chest before I was even aware he was moving.
I could sense the concern of Esme and Carlisle, it came off them in waves as they stood hesitantly behind us. Edward's head was bent and nestled on my shoulder, I imagined what that must look like from their perspective.
Edward said nothing as he held me, and I was fine with the silence.
"I love you," he whispered into my ear. "I never said it, because I didn't think I should. But I'm past caring now."
I caught a glimpse of Esme and Carlisle, their shocked and (in Esme's case especially) happy faces. But I closed my eyes to them and pressed my forehead into his shoulder. Nestled in this dark space, feeling loved and safe- I knew I'd never been this lucky.
Of course the embrace was far too short. I'd grown used to Edward pulling away, whenever the hunger he battled with became too strong. But this time, oddly enough, his cold hand stayed locked in my own.
"Edward?" Esme questioned, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.
I turned and the vampire beside me looked slightly sheepish, it was such a human emotion and I couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped my lips.
"Mom, Dad," he said with a tinge of irony in his voice, "Bella and I…We're-dating now."
I wondered, quite randomly, whether I blushed at this announcement or not. We were ridiculous, acting like schoolchildren.
Maybe love was always young. No matter who it touched.
Esme looked very pleased with herself, I felt as if I might explode. I'd tried to explain about my lunch and dinner at the small diner, but she just radiated this maternal glow that made it difficult to say no to. And her food was delicious.
"So, Bella," Carlisle broached as I finished eating. "I think we can procure you a bed and while I see you have your things, Alice is likely to decide on some more 'simple' comforts."
"What?" I asked stupidly. I bit my lip at the dense tone. "You want me to stay here?"
"Given the circumstances," Carlisle said, his smile dipping slightly, "Perhaps we would make the best temporary guardians."
"That's very kind of you," I said weakly, "But really I couldn't impose. Really I'll be fine. Er- camping isn't new to me so..."
Edward frowned and I felt his hand, which had somehow found its way to my knee, tighten slightly.
"I think we've established that you can't take care of yourself."
My temper flared under my skin, "Don't think I'm some fragile china doll," I hissed angrily, "You can't wrap me up and keep me tucked away."
"Today was the second time in a week that you nearly died," Edward responded coldly, "I think a little caution is prudent."
"He wasn't trying to kill me," I said thinking back to the man at the truck stop, "And my life isn't that precious anyway."
"Oh, no, dear, truly you mustn't think that way," Esme interrupted our little argument, her eyes looking gentle. She took a seat beside me and took my hand in her own. The gesture was surprisingly quick but I found myself a little surprised at how Edward's cautious touches had made me more immune to the shock of their cold skin.
"No matter what has happened, you mustn't forget that you are very special, every human life is precious."
My gaze flickered to Edward and his own expression seemed to be slightly concerned by the emphasis Esme put in her words.
"As Edward and Carlisle know, once in my human life I did not understand that. I tossed it away, and while I might always be grateful for my second life that does not make the first any less valuable."
I could put together the pieces well enough and bit my tongue, hesitantly returned Esme's gesture and squeezed her hand. Her eyes flickered at the gesture and she met my face directly.
"But I've lived so many lives I've lost count," I said sadly.
Esme blinked in confusion.
Edward hadn't told them.
I turned to look at him and my surprise must have been easily evident, I had thought they were so close that my secrets would never be something not shared with the other Cullens.
"It didn't seem right to tell them myself," he said softly, accurately interpreting my speculative gaze.
Carlisle and Esme stared at me, their expressions blank and perhaps even slightly guarded. Had the others been there maybe I would have kept silent. I didn't want Rosalie's barbed tongue, Alice's far seeing eyes, Emmett's doubt and Jasper's suspicion.
Not yet.
But Esme and Carlisle seemed so good. Not vampires, not like the kind I had always known. They reminded me of what parents should be; radiating this sense of warmth and security, what my own had been like so very long ago. I've only ever had one set of parents, despite how many have applied for the job. It's hard to grow-up again, life's secrets can only be exposed so many times. The first time someone says there is no Santa Claus it's shocking- and you can't believe again. Growing up is like that, you can pretend to be a child, you can even enjoy the illusion, but when you know about living and dying…you can't ever really be a child again.
"I'm something of an old soul," I said not knowing exactly how to explain it to them. My gaze flickered to Edward and he nodded in an encouraging manner.
"It's all due to a curse," I looked at them with some doubt, "Do you believe in curses? People don't anymore but maybe you can…" The words stuck in my throat.
"Bella's life is different than other humans," Edward explained.
Carlisle looked confused, "In what way?" he asked with the polished tone of an academic.
"When I die," I said simply, "I don't die. I'm reborn in another body. I remember my past lives, some better than others… it's a long time to remember."
"How is this possible," Carlisle asked, again his tone that of honest curiosity and not denial.
"The curse. You have to believe in something like that to understand. To believe that words have a power. Long ago, when we were truly human, my brother had the ability to have his will done."
Carlisle's eyebrows raised, and Esme's gaze flickered to Edward for a moment.
"It was weak when he was human, it's grown stronger with time but it's still not what a vampire's would be. Still, when he was dying he issued a curse on the vampire that killed him. Maybe his death made it stronger, I don't know. But his words-'Never shall me our mine rest until I've destroyed you and all like you.' It was a curse that has bound us, instead of resting we get reborn each life."
"Marius was your brother?" Edward leaned forward his brows arching.
I hadn't mentioned that, hadn't intended to, and I bit my tongue wishing I hadn't said it.
"Yes, he's my brother, in a manner of speaking."
"How is it I've never heard of this?" Carlisle asked.
I was reminded that he was likely the oldest of this family. His amber eyes, lighter than Edwards or so it seemed to me, flickered as he tried to recall a fleeting mention of such a thing during the lives he had lived.
"Not many know about us now," I said. "In the past, the long past, sometimes people discovered it. But people believed in that sort of thing more readily then, but the world changed and our story became superstition, our explanations heresy and we chose to remain quiet. And as for among the vampires…there are forces more powerful than we that like to pretend we don't exist."
"We?"
"There are twelve of them, counting Bella, twelve people who lead this unending life." Edward explained as the silence dragged.
"Twelve of us bound by the curse," I corrected. Edward didn't see it that way, he like others before him thought it meant to never die. It only meant dying again and again. If that wasn't a curse I didn't know what was.
"Where are the others?" Esme asked in confusion.
"Ten of them died in Kelso," I said softly, "Attacked by a two vampires when the one we were tracking led them into a trap. I was too young, so they left me nearby with Nomti but then…" I trailed off unable to explain to them.
They would never truly understand how things were among the twelve.
Nomti and I had entered the building not long after the others had been slaughtered but the vampires were already gone, they were Rogues who had left their bloody kill flung about sloppily.
When we heard the sirens, Nomti had left me with a nod of his head. Separations were common among the twelve and unlamented. He wasn't quite eighteen yet, but still rather strong and he had been left to protect me. But his ability to keep me safe only existed in the shadow world of vampires and hunters. He had no authority in the lives of men. As the sirens came closer, we both knew that we'd be put under the control of the state if caught, or perhaps even Nomti might be accused of committing the grisly murders himself. It was better to remain anonymous.
I might have gone with him I suppose, not that he had expected me too. He knew, as did I, that even then I had been plotting my escape.
"But they didn't really die," Carlisle commented, he seemed to have absorbed my painful silence with a tinge of respect.
I smiled, "Just their bodies, as far as I can tell they were born again not very far from here, California maybe. They're all six or seven, when such a large number of us are out of commission we tend to wait until we're seen as old enough to function in a society. That has become a longer and longer wait."
Carlisle nodded in understanding.
"If it's a smaller number?" Edward asked curiously.
I supposed I hadn't really answered many of his questions, and he must have some, "They're reclaimed." I said simply. "As long as there are enough 'adults' to justify the children we attempt to stay together. Marius doesn't like us to spend too much time in the world."
"How is it he controls you all?" Edward shook his head.
I resented his remark but I didn't let my temper get the better of me.
"You make sacrifices for family, surely you can understand how lonely eternity can be."
Edward's gaze flickered to meet mine and his eyes expressed an emotion that was unreadable.
"I haven't felt lonely lately," He said.
The words seemed sentimental and yet when he took his cold hand in my own I had the sincere belief that they were true. And I'd felt the same.
"Well," Carlisle said, making more noise when he rose to his feet than was necessary. "Perhaps we should see about getting a bed prepared for Bella."
I blinked.
"It's probably too late to get a proper bed," Esme fretted, although she seemed slightly excited about the prospect.
"Tomorrow would be better," Carlisle said practically. "Perhaps for tonight we could make up a couch bed…"
Esme tutted unhappily, "We might be able to run to Port Angeles," she said thoughtfully.
"Wait-You really want me to stay here?"
"Of course," Esme said, the warmth of her voice and the sincerity were difficult not to believe.
"I won't be an inconvenience? Really I can manage on my own."
Edward's eyes narrowed but he stayed silent about my proclamation.
"We couldn't think of you staying anywhere else," Esme promised.
"What about the others," I asked trying to be a polite as possible, "I didn't think-"
"Maybe it isn't safe," Edward said suddenly.
"Edward," Esme said in a shocked tone.
"With us all to watch her," Carlisle said with a strength that surprised me, "We can keep her safe Edward."
Perhaps it was Carlisle's resolve, or maybe the way Edward relaxed, but I suddenly felt that maybe this could work.
"The others should back from their hunting trip before the morning," Carlisle said thoughtfully. "I'll discuss the matter with them."
Edward nodded, and his trust in the older vampire weighed heavy in the room. I got the distinct impression that there was something Edward wanted to say to his 'father' but he didn't want me to hear.
Esme must have gotten the same feeling.
"Come with me Bella," Esme encouraged taking my arm. "You can help me set up a place to sleep… now do you like Egyptian cotton or would you prefer something like satin to sleep in. I actually have these lovely cotton sheets, I was going to use them for some light draperies or room dividers but I think they can serve the purpose they were originally intended for."
Esme guided me past the two men and up some stairs. Most of the house seemed to have at least one wall made entirely of glass I noticed.
"Good thing you don't have many neighbors," I mentioned, looking out into the dark night.
Esme laughed gently, the noise soothing and rich, "Yes, I suppose so. I'm rather fond of modern architecture," she said soundly slightly embarrassed about it as if she was confessing an unusual quirk.
"I like it," I said quickly, "But the antiques are nice too." As we reached the top of the stairs I noted chest of drawers with knickknacks scattered across the surface. My gaze latched onto a lamp from the 1920s, a small toy airplane the kind popular in the fifties, a timepiece that was probably a century old and a Japanese fan the style that had been popular after the second world war.
I ran my finger over the old wood and recalled a time when Marius and I had been separated from the others, he'd taken an apprenticeship with a furniture craftsman and had always smelled of cedar. They hadn't all been bad times, bad memories.
"It must be hard," Esme said and I was startled out of my remembering.
"Hmm?" I asked, wondering what topic we'd drifted to.
"Losing your place every time, having to start again. We always hate to leave, move and leave the lives we've built. I miss the homes most of all." She stared out of a window and into the silent woods. "Unfair somehow, that we must leave the home we built simply because too much time has passed and we can't change with it."
She turned to look at me her amber eyes still so gentle, "But you have to leave everything, even the face in the mirror."
She turned to look out the window and this time I joined her. I could see my face reflected in the glass. She was right, each life brought a new form, it had been disconcerting at first but I'd stopped thinking about it long ago.
Esme patted my shoulder, her fingertips as soft as a butterfly wing, and we continued moving.
"Here," she lead me through an open door to a small bedroom…that lacked a bed. There was a couch however, a long one covered in white leather and looking decidedly modern and slightly uncomfortable. I gazed around the room and found that most of the walls had been made into shelves. Books of all kinds were lined up neatly to the ceiling, as well as a collection of music. Mostly CDs but also a few records.
I turned to look at Esme, wondering if this was a library of some sort, but my moth dropped open when I saw her entering through the door carrying with her a bundle of bedding. I blinked. She had been right behind me.
"Here we go," she said dropping the linens onto the couch and looking them over with an expert eye. "I originally purchased the quilts for their artistic value," she spread out one of the pieces and the vibrancy of the design really was eye catching. The different prints of cotton had been sewn together in a way I'd never seen before. Not the standard patterns of the past but rather a mosaic landscape where the maker had used the different pieces of cloth to make a picture of a mountain and tall pine trees.
"It's beautiful," I said bending over to inspect the image. It was rather like an impressionist painting, the closer you were the more abstract the image became, but when you pulled away the effect was mesmerizing.
"Yes, I found it in a small gallery in Canada." She shook her head at the wonder of it.
"Are you an artist?" I asked her, wondering more about the kind vampire, Edward's mother for all intents and purposes.
She chuckled and her eyes seemed to shine, "No, I've never had the talent. Although Carlisle says…" but she trailed off letting me silently know that she didn't trust his judgment. "I'm more of a patron for the arts, and I do believe I have a knack for displaying our little treasures."
I nodded in agreement of that.
"And you Bella," she inquired politely, "do you have any artistic ambition."
I shook my head. "I've never thought that was my skill."
"Then what is your skill."
I might have been irritated by Esme's prying, but I wasn't. There was something honestly curious about her, as if she truly wanted to get to know me.
"Taking care of people," I answered.
Her lips quirked into a tender expression, "Then we have that in common."
I watched as she moved to unfurl the bedding and make me a place that was very comfortable on the long couch. I helped with tucking in the corners and it wasn't long before we started talking about quilts. All kinds of quilts. I'd made my share, having lived in the American West for some time, and most of it poor. Esme appeared to me to have been more a lady of money, and her knowledge of quilting was more parlor stitching and when the talk fell into embroidery she grew reflective.
"It's difficult at times to remember all of my human life," she commented.
"Edward mentioned that," I added, wondering at the cause for this.
"It's strange what one remembers," she continued her gaze drifting about the room. "Some things are clear as crystal and others more fleeting. I remember when I was marrying my fist husband, I sat for hours stitching his initials and my soon-to-be ones in towels, bed linens, handkerchiefs. It was a happy time, perhaps that is why it is so vivid."
Esme was perhaps one of the kindest people I had ever met, and my opinion wasn't lessoned by the fact that she drank bood.
"Do you think it will be comfortable?" Edward asked from the doorway. He'd appeared suddenly but I was far from surprised.
"I think I'll be very comfortable, more so than in the woods, it's still a little chilly outside."
Esme inched to the door, her eyes flickering between Edward and me.
"You'll let us know if you need anything else my dear," she said exiting, her eyes seemed laughing as once again her gaze shifted between us.
Edward was doing his best to ignore his mother's curious eyes. I followed suit, my attention fixing on the walls or rather the shelves that lined them. It really was an interesting collection. There were a few books I'd expected, medical reference (Carlisle's no doubt) but also a wide collection of novels. Some classic, some more modern. Ironically enough Anne Rice's Interview with a Vampire was included among the newer novels. My gaze skidded around enjoying the collection. It was sporadic and if it was organized, it wasn't in a manner that I could easily discern.
The music was similarly randomly distributed, but a large selection of classical I noticed.
Edwards eyes had been watching my perusal with a slight flickering of emotion, one I couldn't discern.
"A lot of books, and music," I mentioned.
"I like to read," he admitted in an almost nervous manner.
"Me too," I confessed, my eye slipping over the books.
"Favorite book?" Edward's question had been obvious.
I chuckled slightly, "You sure ask a lot of questions."
"Not that many," he stated raising his eyebrow and there was something of a challenging gleam in his eyes, and I remembered our conversation with Carlisle and Esme downstairs.
"I guess I haven't shared much," I admitted softly, looking away. It must seem like I tried to keep him distant. But how could I explain this to him, I'd spoken more honestly to Edward than I had any other being for centuries. Outside of the twelve, the world had always seemed a very lonely place.
"You don't have to tell me," Edward was beside me, as suddenly as if the steps separating us were nothing.
"I like many books," I said softly, "but the ones with happy ending most. Life can't be perfect and sheared up neat like that, that's why books are better."
Edward's face grew pensive.
Maybe it was the silence, maybe it was the somewhat sad expression on Edward's face.
"You can ask me anything," I said, but the fear of my words made me shudder. I didn't want Edward to know all about my life. Some of the things I was, had been, were not as I'd wish them to be, and somehow telling him about them would mark me in some manner. I didn't want to see him look at me with disgust or pity.
But I wanted him to look at me. So, I had to let him ask what he wanted and see what he saw.
"I don't need to know everything," Edward said softly. "But would you come with me?"
I took the hand he held out silently.
I'd expected him to take me outside, but his cool hand just led mine gently to the hall and down a few doors. This room was empty with clean hard wood floors and, since it was resting in a corner of the building, two of the walls exposed the room to the darkness of the pines that surrounded the house, and up above small pinpricks of light twinkled down beneath an empty sky. I hadn't seen stars in so long, but for once a clear night devoid of clouds had emerged and in the darkness of the Cullen home the stars seemed very bright.
The room was empty, or very nearly so. A grand piano, the kind that would do any concert pianist proud was shoved into a corner of the room, positioned in such a way that the player could gaze out the window if he chose to.
Edward led me to it and we settled on the small bench. I've never considered myself short, but somehow sitting beside Edward as he spread out his hands to rest gingerly on the keys, I felt very small as if my feet could barely touch the ground.
And as Edward's fingers slid over the keys, a noise entered the air. It flowed, almost like water sliding smoothly without any obstruction in its path. The notes twirled and danced with that steady rhythm running behind it. His fingers were moving swiftly, as the notes climbed and swirled but I couldn't watch the process, it seemed that the music itself was a live thing that moved tangibly in the air around us.
Maybe it was the long day, or maybe it was the music, maybe it really was a potent as I felt it to be; but the music seemed to carry with it a sort of power, and I listened to it move around us, flowing through us. My head grew heavy and as I rested it on Edward's hard cold shoulder I allowed myself the chance to truly rest. For the first time in a long time, in a very long life.