~*~ Chapter Thirty-Two ~*~
It was dark. The lights were all out as Bella stumbled her way downstairs, following after Carlisle. Her bedroom door had closed behind her, leaving only a sliver of light by which to see the stairs. She stumbled halfway down and had to catch herself on the railing. Her foot had touched something, some clothing, hers or Carlisle's, she couldn't remember. They hadn't needed or cared about the lights, but now part of Bella wished that they'd turned at least one on.
By touch alone, Bella hurriedly buttoned her dress, skipping a hole or two. She could hear that Rosalie was in the living room. The rain was coming down too hard outside for her to make out words or another voice. Whomever Rosalie had brought with her, it wasn't likely to be Edward, Bella thought, or Carlisle would have said so.
Bella's eyes began to adjust, and in the living room she could make out three forms. Two of them were obviously Carlisle and Rosalie. The third was on the floor. It was a man, but he was too large and muscular to be Edward. Rosalie was crouched down near him, and there was something distorted about the way they overlapped.
An unpleasant smell reached Bella, disturbingly of rust and salt. The room became darker and felt further away. Bella blinked, trying to regain focus. She could barely make out what Carlisle and Rosalie were saying.
"Where did you find him?"
"In Maine. You were closer than a hospital."
"Rosalie, I'm sure that there was a hospital closer. He would have had a better chance there."
There was really something odd about Rosalie and the man she'd brought with her. Some odd round shapes behind him. Was that some sort of backpack? Why was Rosalie so close to him?
"…explain a man mauled like this… "
The smell was overwhelming. It made Bella light-headed. She should have eaten today, but she had been too nervous and worried about the evening. What was that?
Bella reached for the light switch, missed the first time. Then she hit it.
The room flooded with artificial light.
Rosalie's long blonde hair was ragged and wet. Her black, black eyes were a deep contrast to the pale, pale skin of her face. The shadows beneath her eyes made them look larger — but worse, there was a wildness in them. Rosalie looked almost feral, and it caused a spike of fear in Bella.
Rosalie wasn't crouched next to the young man she'd brought in; she held him in her lap, her hand clamped across his neck. Streaks of wet and dried blood striped her hand from between her fingers. It was her arm Bella had seen, not part of a backpack.
No, it wasn't a backpack at all. A rock formed in Bella's throat. The man's nose wasn't in the right place. Half of it was where there should have only been a cheek. Blood and bone were visible in the gap between. Worse, far worse, was his head. His scalp was almost completely detached and it hung open as though on a hinge, revealing raw red and pale yellow inner flesh under what had been — still was — his black hair.
Both he and Rosalie were covered in his blood. The rain on their bodies had made it more prominent rather than washing it away.
"Did you do this?" Bella breathed the question without thought. For in that moment Bella truly believed that the Rosalie she saw before her was capable of this.
"I'm trying to save him." Rosalie's voice rose on the last word in a scream, high-pitched and desperate. There was a banshee in the house tonight.
Carlisle, who was crouched near to them both, touched the badge on the arm of the young man's torn jacket. "Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife. Were there other humans around?"
Rosalie shook her head, the ragged hair flowing oddly around her face. "No one close."
"Are you certain? Game wardens don't go checking bear dens alone."
"Carlisle, he was all alone. Will you save him?"
Carlisle stood up to look at Bella. His eyes had become as black as Rosalie's. The sight of them created that same spike of fear, and Bella pressed closer to the wall.
Carlisle turned back to Rosalie, distress woven through his tone. "Why did you bring him to me?"
There was a grunting, choking noise. It drew Bella's gaze back to the unknown young man. His eyes opened. Those eyes — in that face, under that scalp — opened. And they were so human.
This stranger wearing hiking boots, jeans, and a Maine game warden jacket — he was just a guy, someone who had lived some sort of normal life. Now he was dying in their house, deformed, and this strange creature-Rosalie was begging Carlisle to make him like them. Bella weaved, the hand she still had pressed to the wall taking her weight. The scent of rust and salt continued to press in on her, and she became fairly certain that she was going to pass out.
"… I can't, Carlisle. I know I won't stop…"
The stranger's eyes were directed at Rosalie and Carlisle. What was he seeing? Bella wondered. Could he even follow their conversation through the pain he was obviously feeling? Had he been awake the whole time Rosalie had carried him here? From Maine, that must have been at least 200 miles — in the arms of that female.
His mouth began to move, just the littlest bit, then gaining strength. "Are… Are… you a-angels?" The flesh where his nose had been sagged further away from the bone when he spoke.
Bella's knees felt weak.
Rosalie made a sound in her throat as she lowered her gaze to look down on him. "You are mine," she answered him. "And I'm so sorry. But Carlisle is going to help you and then everything will be fine."
His eyes closed again.
Rosalie looked up, directly at Carlisle. Whatever humanity Bella had sensed in her a moment ago was gone, replaced with the Rosalie-creature. "Carlisle, you owe me," she said lowly.
It was a tone Bella had heard before. Her knees no longer felt weak, and Bella straightened. "Carlisle owes you nothing!" Bella shouted out. "He will do what's right because he knows it to be right. Don't you dare try to manipulate him."
Rising, still keeping her hand over the neck wound, Rosalie hissed at Bella. "Don't even think about trying to come in between me and what I want."
"You will not threaten Bella." Carlisle turned a dark gaze on Rosalie.
"Carlisle, please," Rosalie said, "you can save him. He deserves to be saved."
"You did this to him, didn't you?" Bella pressed. "A bear? There are only black bears around here and they don't attack people. You provoked it."
"I just needed to see him! I needed to get a closer look at him!"
"And this is what happened! You're a monster, Rosalie." As soon as it was said, Bella's mind reeled. What was she saying? Rosalie was family to her; why was she feeling all this antagonism all of a sudden? Bella clutched at the front of her misbuttoned dress, trying to regain control of the emotions that were running wild in her.
Rosalie glared, but then she dismissed Bella, turning back to Carlisle. "Please."
Instead of answering, Carlisle looked at Bella. Bella couldn't read him. She tried to imagine what he'd be feeling right now. Was he reeling inside as much as she was from this abrupt change in events? Why was he looking at her? Carlisle started to speak, obviously hesitating.
"You can't leave me to this existence alone anymore," Rosalie continued. "You did this to me and you need to make up for it. You need to give me him."
"I said don't manipulate him, you bitch!" Bella strode forward without thinking, fists clenched by her sides.
Eyes locked on Bella, Rosalie lowered the man's torso onto the floor at Carlisle's feet. Her blood-covered hand released his neck and fresh blood not yet clotted oozed out onto the carpet. "Giving me orders? Now? You pathetic little human—"
She didn't finish. Rosalie was knocked backward into the couch, and both crashed into the wall with a loud bang.
There was a slight flash of red when Carlisle's hand returned to putting pressure on the young man's throat. "Another move against Bella, and I will not help you," he said.
Bella looked from Rosalie to Carlisle, trying to comprehend both the real and implied violence that just happened, including her own. But her reaction was nothing compared to Rosalie's and Carlisle's. Hers, at least, was human. The spikes came again, in rapid succession. Bella backed away, a step at a time, returning to her spot by the wall.
Bella pressed her lips together and shook her head, trying to clear it. The room was too tense, the smell too strong. The rain pounded from outside, hitting the roof and walls and windows.
"Bella," Carlisle called her attention to him. His strange eyes were pleading.
"Carlisle," Bella answered, not understanding what he wanted from her, not understanding why he was hesitating, what those other emotions coming at her from him were. There was only one option here, and her Carlisle should know that. "Help him."
Carlisle nodded and refocused his attention on the human he was crouched beside. His hands moved to the shredded cloth on the shoulder and gently ripped the jacket open even further. He did the same with the shirt underneath. In a sped-up-frame movement that Bella had only seen in movies, Carlisle's head lowered to the exposed shoulder, and his teeth bit in.
There was a scream, the kind of scream Bella had never heard. Not in a movie, most certainly not in real life. Only this was real. The gurgling pain coming from the torn and bloody stranger's throat was very, very real.
Carlisle released his venom into the twice-victim lying on the Cullen family living room floor. The stranger jerked, the gurgle becoming guttural. Carlisle held on: his mouth intimate on the skin, his arm across the man's torso, holding him close with his porcelain hand wrapped around the torn flannel shoulder.
The back of Carlisle's head moved in a slight arch, as if reacting to taking in pleasure. In another camera film trickery moment Carlisle's head was no longer pressed against the stranger. The man was screaming, thrashing as though acid was eating him out from the inside. The deep guttural scream felt like it was tearing Bella apart. The guy's eyes were open, spilling around in their sockets, almost as if no nerves were holding them in place, the mind behind the eyes gone to pain.
Bella couldn't watch. Instead she looked at Carlisle. His hungry gaze remained on the growling human that jerked and squirmed at his knees. Carlisle's eyes were as black as she'd ever seen them, like a pool of dark red blood that had been exposed to the air too long. But the red wasn't actually in his eyes; a trick of her mind must have put it there. The red dripped from Carlisle's mouth, covering his chin.
Bella wasn't aware of making a noise, though she might have given a small gasp. Carlisle suddenly stood, facing her, his necktie askew, shirt still undone, pants still unfastened. His eyes in that second as he looked at her — hunger, desire, vampire — his hands were shaking. And then he wasn't across the room anymore.
He kissed her. It was too much, too fast. The inside of her lips cut against her teeth. When Carlisle opened her mouth with his, the blood of the man on the floor mixed with her own. They overwhelmed the moonlight. It wasn't natural; it was wrong. Bella cried in her throat and tried to free herself from the too strong man holding her.
Carlisle immediately released her. Bella didn't see the expression of hunger in Carlisle's eyes turn to one of anguish. She didn't see him lift his hand to his mouth.
Bella had turned and ran.
A/N: In an effort to cut back on time between updates and keep a forward momentum, I've decided to have more, shorter chapters.
There was no beta for this chapter, but thanks are due to Worm and hubby for prereading.
Next chapter... what Carlisle knows has to happen now