In the Grip of Twilight
By: Olivia Tannis Moore
Chapter Ten: Tight Wire
Elena took a step forward into the vault. Her eyes roved from one wall to the other, to the early American muskets to the swords that hung haphazardly there. The look on her face said she was clearly unimpressed. And why not? I thought. She was from one of the most influential families in all of Europe—she probably had access to the vaults of the Vatican. It embarrassed me that we had both expected more grandeur than what was present. The Cullens weren't hoarding gold and treasure in the vault. These articles were pieces of the Cullen's lives, and apparently they meant something to them if they wished to preserve them down here.
Carlisle's eyes flashed. It was the first time I'd ever seen his handsome face so pinched and tired—and so obviously perturbed. When he spoke, his voice was low, "Please go back to the house, Elena. You shouldn't be here. This is a family matter."
Edward and I took an instinctive step back. There was a warning in the deep timbre of his voice, a glimpse of something dangerous riding just under the surface—something you didn't want unleashed.
Elena stopped. A look of shock passed over her porcelain-smooth face—only to be replaced with resentment as she suddenly fixed her cold glare on me as I stood there by Edward's side. "She's not family. She's not even one of us."
Edward put a protective arm over my shoulder. I couldn't suppress a shiver as Elena attempted to put the focus on me. "Bella is my Chosen One," Edward announced to her. "Be careful of what you say."
Foolishly, Elena took another step forward. "If she is your Chosen One, then why is she still human?"
Of all the people who could've made my point…why did it have to be Elena? And why did it have to be now –in the middle of this showdown? My face flushed with anger. I felt I should say something in Edward's defense. Or in mine.
But there was no time. For Elena had suddenly caught a whiff of something in the air. Her nose wrinkled. "I smell Lycan," she snarled. She crouched there, her head turning in that impossible angle, sniffing the air. Her eyes were wild with anticipation.
"Enough!" Carlisle roared. It was as if a wave of energy hit me in the chest and only Edward's arm about my shoulders saved me from tumbling backwards onto the concrete floor. All about the room items were rattling and clanging together; a large medieval axe swayed ominously from its leather strap on the wall above the Egyptian chest.
Elena appeared shaken, but held her ground. "If you are harboring Lycans," she threatened, "there will be no where for you to hide—"
"He's not alive," Edward shouted. "I killed him this evening."
She turned her head to the side and seemed to be considering what he said. Her nostrils flared as she began to pace the floor. She looked so animal-like as she strode back and forth, looking from Edward to Carlisle.
"Is that true?" she asked Carlisle, still pacing.
Carlisle's face was stoic. "Yes," he said flatly, "the Lycan is dead."
"If you don't mind, I'll see for myself," she said, moving to chest.
At first I thought Carlisle might block her path; he didn't move out of her way for several seconds, but then he waved his arm over the chest and said, "As you wish."
Carlisle looked to us as Elena leaned over to peer into the chest. His eyes were filled with despair. Something more was going on here. Something that Carlisle had been trying to tell us before Elena interrupted. I had the distinct feeling that whatever it was, it had the potential to be devastating.
Just as Carlisle had done, Elena didn't say anything as she stared down into the chest. Then she reached down and lifted one of the creature's massive arms. Curiously, she sniffed at its hand, rubbing her nose against its fur. And then she buried her nose in the creature's palm as if she just couldn't get the scent of it. As if it were both the right scent and the wrong scent at the same time. "This cannot be…" she whispered. "It's the Forgotten. He exists…He actually exists!"
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