*** This story contains some mild language, suspense, romance, and some frightening images and situations—13 and older, please.

In the Grip of Twilight

By:

Olivia Tannis Moore

Chapter Seventy Three:

Adeloni

Ezekiel's cottage was about the same size as Muriel's, but that was the only likeness.

My eyes widened in amazement as I walked into the small living room. It seemed every inch of the walls were covered with images of Elena: Elena smiling; Elena laughing as she picked petals from a daisy in the what seemed to be the timeless he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not game; Elena and Ezekiel in the lovers swing beside the house—their gaze oblivious to anyone else. At first I had thought they were photographs, but as I drew closer I was surprised to find that they were paintings…rendered so realistically that the artist's talent and skill was undeniable.

With a flourish, Ezekiel had signed "Zeke" in green paint in the lower right corner of each painting.

The sheer beauty of the paintings demanded a reaction from the viewer—and it was this that broke the ice as I stood there gaping and turning my head to see more. "These are incredible."

Ezekiel seemed self-conscious of the praise as he hung his head and thrust his hands deep into his jean pockets; his hair hung down obscuring his eyes and I was at once reminded of the first day I'd seen Elena at school and how she went to great lengths to hide behind the curtain of her hair.

Elena wrapped her arms around herself and said, "He's a magnificent painter…" which caused Ezekiel's lips to curl into a slight smile.

I walked the perimeter of the room until I'd seen all the paintings and then Elena offered me a seat on the small tan sofa.

She then turned and said, "We'll be fine, Zeke."

Ezekiel stood there a moment too long, as if reluctant to leave her alone in my company, but then nodded. "I'll be out back…"

Elena walked stiffly to the sofa and sat down next to me. "Thank you for coming…I wasn't sure you would." Then she shook her head and bit her bottom lip. "No, actually, I didn't think you would—not after the horrible way I treated you. So it was quite a surprise to see you at the door."

I gazed down at my feet still not used to this humble version of Elena. "I can't stay long…"

Elena sighed. "Yes, I know. You're going back to the castle. Muriel told me as much."

"Elena—"

"Please," she interrupted me, "call me Adeloni, or simply Adel. I know I refused to allow you to call me that before…but there was a reason for that. Besides, he renamed me Elena, and I've now cut all ties to him." By him, I took her to mean Aro. Her dislike was palpable, and for a mere second I detected the spiteful girl I had known before lurking within the venom of her voice. But then it was gone again and she smiled apologetically at me. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite used to being back…I keep thinking it's a dream—that Aro will snatch me back when he tires of this game. It's the same with Zeke—so forgive him for being overly protective."

I nodded. "Okay, Adeloni…Adel." It was much easier to call her Adel, as if it was a new start for us.

She looked up at the large painting of Zeke and herself in happier times above the fireplace. "We're also having difficulties adjusting to my being back. Well…Zeke is, and therefore it affects me."

"How so?" I asked.

She kept her eyes on the painting as she spoke. "I grew up among the Lycans before I was abducted by the Volturi, and now I come back years later as a vampire…that's bound to cause problems, you know. Especially when someone as passionate as Zeke is involved…" She grunted. "He can't come too close to me without wanting to rip me apart…yet he loves me so much that he can't bear to be away from me." She smiled wistfully, "So here we are in this tiny little house staring at each other longingly from across the room…"

"He looks somewhat like Edward…" I whispered.

Her eyes flickered to mine briefly before looking down at her hands in her lap. "Hard not to notice that, I suppose."

"Yeah, well, I understand your actions a little more now. They seemed so unreasonable at the time, though."

"I was grasping for anything that reminded me of my life here…" she tried to explain. "I just wanted to feel something besides hate."

With these new revelations coming from my old adversary, the tension in my stomach had eased a bit and I leaned back into the cushions of the sofa. I now found myself curious about her situation. "How long were you with Aro?"

Her shoulders went rigid. "Too long. Five years, two hundred and fifty one days, which doesn't sound like a long time for an immortal, but for me it seemed like forever."

I nodded, thinking of the six months of anguish I'd gone through without Edward the previous year. "Any amount of time spent apart from the one you love seems like forever—especially if you believe it is permanent."

Her eyes seemed drawn back to the painting of the lovers swing, where the couple appeared their happiest and most carefree. She sighed softly. "I didn't think I would ever get away. Aro has a way of putting your mind in shackles, a complete prisoner. I believed my old life was dead. I never for once thought I'd see Zeke's face again, certainly never thought he'd take me back…not like this, as a vampire."

"It's surprising how long love can endure," I half-whispered, at once thinking of both Edward and Demetri. "Over years, lifetimes, even centuries."

There was a stretch of silence and I looked up to find her looking at me oddly, as if wondering how I could know something like that, not truly being immortal.

I smiled sympathetically but offered no explanation. Slowly, I reached over and took her cold hand in mine. "If you've asked me to come here to find forgiveness for the past, then it's done; I forgive you." I shrugged my shoulders. "Pain makes people act in ways they wouldn't normally act. I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

She squeezed my hand gently and looked away. "I did want to make peace for my actions. But that is only half of it. I desperately need a favor…if you can find it in your heart after all I've put you through…"

I let her hand slip from mine, instantly wary of what she might ask from me. "What is it?"

She sank down to her knees on the wooden floor and gazed up at me. And although her eyes were as dry as bone, her anguish was undeniable. Her voice was raspy and choked when she said, "Reform me, Bella…that's all that I ask."

***

(A shout out to all the new readers—thanks for taking the time to read the story. And, as always, to everyone: thanks for reading. OTM)