Author's Notes (June 13, 2011): Thanks to duskwatcher2153, GreatChemistry (for 'setting' me straight, lulz) and smexy4smarties. Finally, to Aleeab4u: feel better soon!
Chapter pic: Nada. :(
Chapter music: bit(dot)ly/sotpm24-music
"SINS OF THE PIANO MAN"
CHAPTER 24: DRAWN OUT, STITCHED UP
"He was a killer, a thing that preyed, living on the things that lived, unaided, alone,
by virtue of his own strength and prowess, surviving triumphantly
in a hostile environment where only the strong survive."
From "The Call of the Wild" by Jack London
ISABELLA SWAN
The engine purred as Edward sped down the highway, pushing the needle of the speedometer farther and farther to the right until I couldn't bear to look out at the blurred world. We were headed toward Port Angeles. I wondered if we'd passed Angela's car along the way. We were passing everyone, even around sharp curves and over double yellow lines. My dad would have been so pissed.
Edward didn't say anything or take his eyes off the road, but I saw the muscles in his jaw working and felt the tension in his body—in mine, too. A storm was brewing between us, and I didn't know how we'd survive it, if we could or should. For all I wanted to face this head on, my body wanted to take cover. I wanted to curl up and sleep and pretend that this was all a bad dream, that there was no such thing as vampires or werewolves or anything else like them—shit, were there other creatures?
I gripped the sides of my seat to survive sharp turns and keep myself from fidgeting. If one more thing fell out of place, I'd break. At least my parents would be spared whatever mess I was getting myself into, which was really a more positive way of thinking, You're on your own, Bella Swan.
We slowed and made a sharp turn, and I recognized the back road that led to Edward's house. Ferns pattered—tick, tack, clunk—against the side of the car. We kicked up mud and washed out gravel.
"We're going to your place?" I asked in alarm. "Shouldn't we be doing this in more neutral territory?"
"Do you want answers or not?" he snapped, showing white teeth.
I saw no fangs.
My anger flared again. I could be just as snappy. "No, of course not. I want to be left in the dark, like always. I just love it."
"Your sarcasm is highly unbecoming right now."
"Is it as unbecoming as lying to someone all the time?"
The car jerked to such a hard stop at the front of Edward's house that my seatbelt locked when I lunged forward. I fell back with a thump, breath rushing out of my lungs.
"As if I could have told you while Charlie was sick! When was the right time for me tell you? There's never been a right time for this! What the fuck was I supposed to do, Bella?" I flinched as he slammed his hand down on the center console.
It wasn't your typical outburst.
He'd smashed through the console surface, creating a leather and plastic crater the size of his hand; he was buried up to half of his forearm in pure car. We stared at it, as if neither of us could believe that it'd happened.
I broke the silence with my usual eloquence. "Holy shit."
"I'm sorry. That was…uncalled for," he murmured while extricating himself from the destruction. Bits of plastic rained down.
I imagined Edward trying to explain the damage to the car company for repair. "Well, you see, I'm a vampire, and I was angry at my human girlfriend. Does the warranty cover this?"
It was such a ridiculous idea and situation that I began to laugh—deep, belly laughs that left me gasping for air. All my anger melted, giving way to something else.
It was so simple. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be my life, because this wasn't real. I'd never met a vampire, because, like ghosts, there was no such thing as vampires. I'd never kissed one. I'd never had sex—great sex!—with one. Edward wasn't a vampire. Creatures like vampires didn't exist, no matter how much the conspiracy nutjobs on the internet wanted them to.
I was just crazy.
There was plenty of evidence for my mental deterioration: being convinced someone wasn't human, keeping paranoid lists about supernatural creatures, thinking I saw things that didn't happen—like golden eyes that turned black or hands that went through fancy car consoles.
How long had this been going on? Since I'd had my car accident and "seen" the red-haired woman? Was that when it had started, when I was seventeen?
Maybe this meant that the last six months of my life weren't real at all. Maybe the funeral hadn't happened. Maybe Charlie was in Forks, alive and well, waiting for me to come visit him and watch one of his county ballgames. Forks' Finest. I had the shirt for the game. Maybe I was still in school. Maybe I was drugged up in some institution. Was I dreaming or hallucinating? Was I getting better or worse?
Either way, I decided, the world was normal. Occam's Razor, the simplest truth. I was the abnormal variable in this equation. It was me. Somehow, someway, this was all in my head. I needed help—therapy, medication. People could live normally with mental illness these days, right? The first step is realizing you have a problem.
"Your heart…" Edward's voice sounded distant and frightened, but I couldn't reply.
Then I had a thought that was crippling, that nearly turned my laughter to tears.
Did Edward even exist? Could he exist without also being a vampire? I didn't think I could survive finding out he didn't exist. Maybe I didn't want help, then. Maybe I wanted to play out this fantasy, where I loved a beautiful boy, and he loved me. I didn't care if it meant there were vampires. If it was fantasy, did it matter?
It was hard to breathe. Was my heart was trying to jump out of my chest?
A car door opened. My seatbelt was unclipped and then I was lifted by hard, strong limbs. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around Edward's neck and stared up at the cloudy sky, which seemed to be spinning. Cold mist fell on my skin.
"Is this happening?" I heard myself ask.
"Yes."
"How can I be sure?"
"Shh," Edward hushed, his cool breath fanning across my face. The scent was sweet and soothing, and I rested against him, trying to ignore the nervous twitch of my muscles.
Lucky whimpered as we entered the house and followed us into the living room, where Edward placed me on the sofa. Then he was moving—faster than I could process.
Shivering, as if I was suffering from a fever, I closed my eyes, tried to calm myself to no avail. A blanket was placed over me, tucked around my sides, tight, warm, comforting, and then Edward was on the phone, speaking in a clipped voice; his words ran together in his urgency.
I couldn't quite grasp what was going on, other than life seemed so bleak and confusing. Everything's falling apart. I'm losing everything and everyone. Nothing makes sense. Will anything ever make sense again? Lucky hopped up on the couch and lay over my feet. His warmth was reassuring.
I thought I might throw up, but I didn't. Instead, my body eventually surrendered, and I fell asleep.
It was pitch black outside when I woke, the only light in the room coming from the soft glow of lamps. Other than the sound of Lucky's gentle snoring, the house was quiet.
The world didn't make much more sense, but I wasn't shaking anymore, and I didn't think I'd be dry heaving any time soon. My thoughts had quieted; my heart had stopped racing. I was alive, mostly myself, and in Edward's house.
It was hot. Squirming, I pushed the blanket down to where it only covered my legs.
Edward cleared his throat, and I only then noticed him at the junction between the living room and kitchen. How long had he been there?
Judging by the softness of his features, his anger had cooled. He moved with deliberate slowness toward me, a plate in one hand, a glass of orange juice in the other. "Carlisle says you need to eat."
I sat up, and he handed me a plate with cheese and crackers and small slices of ham. The food was meticulously arranged in three triangular sections. "Thank you," I whispered. I was so hungry.
Awakened by the scent of food, Lucky sniffed the air, but didn't come too close before grunting and putting his head back down.
Edward placed the orange juice on a side table. "I'm sorry it's not more. I don't have much on hand. You haven't been here in nearly two weeks. I haven't…had need to shop." He glanced at me.
Because he doesn't like to eat this kind of food, a little voice whispered in my head.
The slice of ham I'd been eating got stuck in my throat, but I forced it down with a hard swallow. With Edward sitting in a nearby chair, I ate in silence for a few minutes, all too aware that I was the only one eating, and that I was being watched. But the food was good, no matter how simple, and so I ate anyway. I hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours.
I studied the round cracker in my hand, refusing to look at him. His beauty could be distracting, and if there was one thing I wanted instead of starting this conversation, but shouldn't have, it was a distraction. "This is happening," I said. I knew it was, but I still felt the need to say it.
A pause, then, "Yes."
"I'm not crazy then."
"That's debatable. You are here."
"Be serious," I said.
"I am being serious."
I put the cracker down, but still stared at it against the backdrop of the white plate. I didn't think Edward had picked this china, what with the black, floral trim; it was a little effeminate. Esme's doing, I thought. "You know what I mean," I said. "If this is all real, I'm not the crazy thing here."
"This is real," he confirmed again.
I sucked in a breath. "Okay. And you're a—a v-vampire."
"Is the word rather difficult to say when you know my kind exists?" he asked, wry amusement coloring his tone. "But, yes, I am."
I let this fact wash over me again.
Vampires existed.
The Cullens were vampires—always had been.
Edward Masen was a vampire.
It was a little easier hearing it a second time, and from Edward himself, but it was still such an unbelievable truth. It was a lot to take in on a good day, and this, the day of my father's burial, was not a good day for me. I pushed thoughts of Charlie aside and finally looked up at Edward.
He was so beautiful, like a figure from a painting that could make you weep. He sat with his back rigidly straight, which had a way of making him appear regal, and his long fingers curled like bird talons over his kneecaps. He'd been pulling at his hair. He was wild and raw and cut from another cloth. It was hard to believe I'd ever thought he was a man.
"If we're gonna do this, I want the whole truth," I said, once I was able to pull myself from his enthralling appearance. "No more lies. You—we—can't treat each other this way anymore."
"I know." He looked down at the floor. "I'll tell you anything you want to know." He grimaced. "I'm sure I have my work cut out for me, undoing whatever Jacob Black has told you."
"He didn't really tell me anything." He hadn't seemed able to.
He looked at me. "Then how do you know? Alice thought—"
"Jacob just helped me remember something I'd forgotten."
It was almost comical that I'd known the truth the whole time. I hadn't thought about the scary stories around the bonfires at La Push in years. What reason had I to? I'd thought La Push and Jacob were behind me. But somewhere, deep down, I maybe had always known the truth; my dreams hadn't been normal for a long time. I now had an idea of what kind of scary monster lurked in them. I pulled the blanket closer.
"The Quileutes have a story about you guys," I explained. "I heard it years ago, but until today, I thought it was just some fireside legend."
Edward's brows rose. "I see. And what does this story say?"
"I can't remember everything…" I picked at blanket lint. I thought back on what I could remember of a tale about an ancient attack on La Push, a bloody massacre. It was a story about a woman who'd saved her husband by stabbing herself, and therefore attracting the cold one—the vampire—with her own blood. It was the ultimate sacrifice, giving your life for another. At eighteen, I'd thought that was romantic.
I didn't romanticize death these days.
"It wasn't a happy story," I said.
"I imagine not. They got that right, at least." He stared at the floor again, his shoulders slumping.
"Edward?" I sighed. "Look at me."
He turned his head.
"I'm not running," I said. It was true. I'd run to him, which maybe was crazy, but curiosity and the pull he had on me had been too strong to ignore. "I'm upset—I was really upset earlier—"
"I made you have a panic attack."
"Is that what it was?"
He nodded.
"It's passed, though. I'm okay now, I think." Physically, at least.
"Are you?" he scoffed. "You're sitting in a room with a vampire. That's not exactly healthy living."
"Oh, come on. It's not like I'm sitting with just any…vampire." Blushing, I added, "And it's not like I haven't done a lot more than sit with you."
His lips quirked with a hint of smugness before turning downward again.
"I want to know you," I said more gently. "I can't promise I won't be upset sometimes, but I think you mean well—you've been there for me, sometimes when no one else was—and I mean well, too. I just want to understand… I'm sorry about how I was earlier."
"Bella, you had every right to feel what you felt."
"Yeah, but I should hear what you have to say. I shouldn't…jump to conclusions." It was hard not to, when my brain kept digging up everything from old Dracula movies, to Count Chocula commercials. Not helpful.
Edward leaned back in his chair, relaxing a little. "You're really staying," he said in amazement.
I gave him a weak smile and a shrug. Swans are constant, stubborn birds. I would see this through to an end. I hoped it'd be a happy one.
"Let's start from the top," I said. "Name?"
He was Edward Anthony Masen, born in 1901, in Chicago, Illinois, to Edward and Elizabeth Masen, a lawyer and sometime-piano-teacher, respectively. He'd seen his parents die in the 1918 flu pandemic and had been—in his words—"unlucky enough" to be turned into a vampire in 1921; he didn't know who his "maker" was, a fact which obviously angered him. He was forever frozen at age twenty.
I've been dating an old guy.
"Does my age bother you?" he asked.
"Uh, it's hard to put it into perspective with you looking…the way you do. It maybe explains a lot, though."
"What do you mean?"
"You're sometimes very old-fashioned," I said.
To my surprise, he smiled, as if I'd paid him a compliment. "Am I?"
"You hold doors open for me."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm hardly the only man with good manners, Bella."
I thought it was debatable whether that was "good manners," but I didn't say anything. I should probably just be thankful that he didn't argue about my right to vote.
Still smiling, he shrugged. "Ask me something else," he challenged, sounding eager now.
"Coffins and crypts?" I ventured.
"Neither." He paused for a moment, then added, "I can't sleep."
"I'd wondered if you maybe slept differently… But not at all?"
"No. My body has no need for rest. I don't lose energy from being awake for long periods of time."
I didn't ask where his energy did come from. I thought I already knew, and I wasn't sure I could handle that truth yet.
"What have you been doing while I've been asleep?"
Edward looked embarrassed enough by this question that I felt my face grow warm on his behalf. "Watching you," he admitted.
"Watching me? Do what?"
"Sleep, of course."
"That seems…"
"Inappropriate, I know," he said, frowning. "Forgive me. I'll stop."
"I was thinking more along the lines of boring." And maybe creepy. I'd give him that.
He shook his head. "No—no, it's not. Not at all. Life is fascinating; to watch yours up close has been…a gift I will always cherish."
Well, when he put it that way…
His grin was lopsided. "You talk in your sleep, you know."
It's always the silly things that stand out. He'd just admitted to watching me while I slept, and all I could think was, Oh, Jesus, what has he heard me say? "Oh, no. Don't tell me that."
"You do." Edward chuckled. "Would it help if I said it's highly enjoyable to listen to you?"
"It's embarrassing is what it is," I corrected. "Let's move on." We could deal with his nocturnal hobby some other time.
A lot more than coffins and crypts turned out to be myth. Garlic, crosses and holy water couldn't do a damn thing to a vampire. Neither could the sun harm them, though Edward said they did have a reaction to it. Fire could do serious damage, but it was only fatal to the head, the brain, which was still the epicenter of life—or the half alive(?). Anything injured could heal in time and with…food, provided the head wasn't burned. Time was one thing immortals had plenty of. I tried not to think about the food supply or how this meant a head could essentially stay alive without a body.
All of it meant he could live forever, while I grew old and grey.
Vampires were equipped with better senses and supernatural speed and strength. I'd been aware of some of Edward's advanced senses from the way he'd heard me at times when he shouldn't have, or how he could sniff out the most random things in the kitchen pantry. Other things I hadn't known, like that Edward and the Cullens' flawless complexions were a byproduct of the venom that had long ago replaced blood in their veins. The venom was also what altered their scent into something sweet and comforting—something perfect to draw us humans in for the kill. Were we so easy to fool?
Probably.
As far as predators went, vampires were more than capable of chowing down on us, when and where and how they pleased, and we weren't even aware of their existence. I knew how bugs felt now—small and easily squashed.
Edward shifted in his seat, turning his body more in my direction. "Bella, you're not asking me the real question."
I picked at my blanket lint. I was curious, and I needed to know the truth, but I was chicken, too. Moments passed in silence.
"You want to know if I drink blood," he said.
My heart jumped in my chest, and this time I knew he could hear it, could smell my adrenaline and sweat. Was it disgusting or appealing? Which would I prefer to be? I'd never been so hung up on my own body scent before.
"Well… Don't you?" I asked. "That's not a myth, is it?" I wanted it to be, if only to dislodge an image of Edward drinking thick, red blood from a wine goblet.
"It's not a myth, no."
I didn't want to think about the flavor of blood, but my mind conjured it from all the times I'd split my lip and tasted its salty, metallic tang. In the past, before Charlie had gotten sick, which had a way of putting "gross" things into perspective, blood had freaked me out. Now, I didn't shudder or feel faint, and I remembered that the flavor was mostly neutral in my mouth. I couldn't imagine wanting it, though.
"How do you decide?" I asked.
"Decide?"
"Who to take." Who to kill, but I couldn't bring myself to say that ugly word.
"Ah," he murmured. "You want to know if I'm at all humane, if you've been sleeping with a murderer and the enemy of your kind."
"I didn't say that." But the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose to attention.
"It was implied." He shrugged a shoulder, and I stared at it, wondering if that too was part of his human performance. "Make no mistake, I am a murderer, Bella. Many of my actions have been deplorable, and I can't take them back. I'm no saint—one of the furthest things from it, in all likelihood." He smirked darkly as he regarded me. "Listen to your heart fly. You believe me. Good. You're finally seeing me for what I am, but it's not what you expected, is it? I tried to warn you as best I could."
It wasn't what I'd expected—not in a million years—but in a way, I got it now. Sort of. Edward felt guilty, and that told me a lot about the man he was. I understood a little bit of the self-loathing, the anguish, the insecurity and inhuman beauty that made up Edward Masen. Puzzle pieces slid into place, sending chills down my spine—and making my heart hurt.
"I don't feed from humans anymore," Edward commented, and I tried to hold back my wince over the word feed, even as I felt myself mostly relax.
More puzzle pieces slid into place. "The names in your folders…"
He looked surprised, then sad. "Innocents," he said, nodding, his voice reverent. "People whose time shouldn't have ended at my hands." He licked his lips at the memory, and I pretended not to see or know what had him licking his lips. I was sure he didn't even realize he'd done it.
There were sixty-six numbered binders on his bookshelves, each filled with names and sheet music. I gazed at them with new understanding. But even with this new understanding, I didn't know what I should feel.
Appalled? Sure. Hundreds of lives had been taken, and I sat in the room with the killer. I'd eaten his cheese and crackers. I didn't plan to tell on him, either. Did that make me an accomplice, in the eyes of the law? Did the law—human law—apply here? What would my father think of Edward if he knew all of this? What would he think of me, sitting here, now knowingly, listening and attempting to understand? He'd given me cans of pepper spray to protect me from less dangerous men than Edward.
But Edward wasn't just a man, and my dad was dead. I'd wrestle with issues of morality on my own.
I thought I felt sad—sad for the people Edward had killed, sad for their families and friends, and sad for him, as he sat staring at the bookshelves like he was before God on Judgment Day. These people—strangers?—haunted him. Maybe they should. He was atoning. Maybe it was right for him to.
"How long have you been—" Clean? Denying your nature? A…vegetarian?
He understood my question. "I haven't fed from humans in twenty-one years," he answered, watching me closely.
"Not at all?"
"No, though I won't suggest I haven't had cravings."
"That's…" I thought of going twenty-one years—my whole life!—without cheeseburgers or pizza. People did it—the carb and calorie watchers, the diabetics—but I knew it wasn't easy. People relapsed. I said what you say to smokers and alcoholics who've managed to drop the bad habit. "That's amazing."
"I had a reason to change," he said. I wondered what the reason was, but I didn't think I was ready to hear details of his dark past. Knowing the people in the folders were dead was enough for me to deal with.
"So you can eat regular food instead?" I doubted it, but I could hope.
He smiled faintly. "I suppose you would think that, but no, animal blood is the only substitute I've found that sustains my altered biology—and I've looked for others, believe me."
"But you've eaten dinner with me…"
"Human food, yes." He laughed and somehow managed to sound wistful at the same time. "The human façade is an intricate one, Bella. I've slept, because that's what humans do. I've worn glasses and taken bathroom breaks and coughed, because it was necessary for the illusion. I've eaten, because you needed to see me eat. I've lied to you many times over, and you've easily accepted the lies, because that's what humans do."
He wanted me to be angry with him, to be offended, but he was angry with himself. All these things he'd done to keep his secret, because—I knew—he'd feared what it would mean to tell me. What would it have been like if I'd known the truth from the start, if I'd been around Jacob or Billy more to remember the Quileute story? It felt like it would have been easier to accept all this earlier on, but who was to say? I probably wouldn't have believed any of it.
"I used to think I was good at lying," Edward scoffed.
"You were good enough," I sighed.
I reached out and put a hand on Lucky's head; he was asleep again and didn't wake as I ran my fingers through his scruffy hair. "If animal blood's your substitute, why do you have Lucky?"
"I would never harm him," Edward snarled.
I looked up in surprise. "I didn't mean to suggest you would. I just… All the vampire stuff I know about—I mean, it must be hard… Does he make you hungry?" I did wince then.
Edward stared at me for a minute, as if trying to gauge how I'd handle what he was about to say. "Sometimes," he said in a quiet voice. "He's hurt himself on occasion. Being around his blood isn't comfortable."
"How do you do it?"
"Mind over matter."
"I'm sorry, Edward."
"You're sorry? What do you have to apologize for?"
"I'm just thinking that if Lucky's blood is hard to be around—and animals are a substitute—what's it like to be with me?" Feeling sad, I twisted my hands in the blanket as I remembered our first meetings, of how Edward had shown up in unlikely places. It wasn't kismet, I thought now. I'd been stalked—and not because I was a pretty face—would that have been better? "You've thought about my blood."
"Don't," he growled. "You're more than that to me."
"I know, but not at first," I said, shaking my head and hearing the truth in my words. They should have been frightening, but more than anything, they hurt.
He confirmed this a minute later when he said, "You can't imagine how incredible your scent is. When we met, it was everything. You drove me mad. But then I got to know you."
I blushed. "It's okay," I said, not really knowing if it was. "I know it's not that way now."
"This must be disgusting to you."
"It's not." Strangely, it wasn't, not as much as it would have been even an hour before. I wasn't even frightened. I didn't exactly know what I was.
Edward's lips curled in disapproval. "How can it not disgust you?"
"You've got to eat. I get that. It's not your fault that you are the way you are… You don't even know who made you this way."
A low growl rumbled in the back of Edward's throat. "He'd be dead by now if I did know."
"But you're here. And he's wherever he is. How you live isn't that different from how I do. We all live off something else. That's the food chain, right? And you, well, you say you don't…eat humans. I appreciate that—what with being one and all."
"Yes, well, the knowledge that I don't feed from humans shouldn't make you complacent. Mistakes happen, Bella." He looked at me apologetically. "I can never forget that you're in danger when you're with me. I did once, but you know only a hint of what can happen if I lose control. It could have been much worse."
"That wasn't a normal night," I argued. "We were both high strung." The pain of our mistakes had lasted longer than the bruises, anyway. And still…a part of me that I didn't understand longed for that feeling of unbridled power.
"Now that you know the whole truth, you shouldn't forget what I'm capable of."
"You've warned me plenty," I said, smiling a little. "I just haven't always listened."
Every time he'd warned me, I'd chosen him and my feelings. I was trying so hard to think with my head now, not only my heart, but it's hard to be logical when you're dealing with the supernatural or with a lover. Edward was both.
"Have you and the Cullens known each other for a long time?" I asked after silence had stretched for too long again.
Edward snorted. "I met Alice the day I went to you in Forks for the first time. You wouldn't believe how surprised I was. And worried. I thought you were being hunted."
Hunted. I shuddered.
"All I could imagine," he continued in a quiet voice, "was finding your body in the woods—cold and lifeless, blood on the leaves around your head. I'd be too late to save you. Before I knew better, I was frightened of the risk the Cullens posed, even if I didn't understand why at the time." He looked at me, and I thought he was on the verge of crying. "I can't lose you."
I rose from the sofa, letting the blanket slip from my lap, where it was half-trapped beneath Lucky's body. The room spun for a moment, but I managed to stay standing. With somewhat faltering steps, I went to Edward, who was watching me with wide, glassy eyes.
I wanted him to see that I wasn't afraid. I wasn't fully accepting everything yet, but I wasn't going anywhere, either. A week ago, I'd felt like the lion tamer. Now I felt like a lamb, caught in the lion's gaze. Lion or not, with the truth out, with explanations, I didn't feel threatened at all, only sad and filled with questions that would take days to ask. But I wasn't afraid of him, and I needed him to know that.
I took his face in my hands. He was cool to the touch, even in the warm house. "I'm stronger than you think, Edward. You haven't lost me," I whispered. "I'm still here." I rubbed my thumbs under his glassy eyes, expecting the dampness of tears, but his porcelain cheeks were dry and smooth.
"I can't cry."
"Can't?"
"Venom's too thick for tear ducts. It only gathers." He blinked several times in annoyance. "It can be irritating, though."
I ran my hands through his hair soothingly.
"I would lose my humanity if I lost you, Bella."
"You haven't lost me," I said again.
He searched my face. "May I touch you?"
I nodded, and then I was pulled forward and embraced in hard arms that were somehow still comforting. He rested the side of his face on my stomach, and I held him to me for all I was worth. Tears spilled down my cheeks.
"Stay with me," he said, his voice uncharacteristically broken.
"I'm not going anywhere." The truth was out now. I'd deal with it somehow.
"No, Bella." He pulled away enough to look up at me. "Not only tonight. For all nights. Let me make you like me—at least one day—so you'll always be mine."
"I already like you," I said, my brows coming together in confusion. "Wait… Make me…like you? Do you mean you want to turn me into a—a vampire?"
He swallowed hard and nodded. "Not tonight—I shouldn't even be asking tonight, after all that's happened, but you want my honesty and intentions—so not tonight, but one day. When you're ready. If you could ever want that. Bella, I want you with me."
"To live forever? You could do that?" I asked, and he nodded.
The room felt cold all of a sudden, airless, like space. Something bitter twisted in my gut, something vile.
"How do you do it?"
"Upon entrance into your bloodstream, venom begins the transformation. You'll become like me. The change is… It's painful, but it doesn't last." His lips twisted in distaste.
"Would I ever get sick?" I asked tensely.
He shook his head, smiling. "This life—if it can be called that—does have some perks. Bacteria and viruses have no desire to feed on creatures without a pulse." His smile turned to a frown. "That has to sound odd. You get used to not having one, I promise…"
"What about cancer? Could I get cancer and die?"
At this, Edward froze, his arms locked around my waist.
He wasn't comforting now. His embrace was a cage.
"Bella…"
"No…" I shoved at his shoulders, but he didn't budge an inch.
"You have to understand—"
"You let my father die," I accused, "when you could have saved him."
"No," he said, shaking his head frantically. "Bella, it's not like that. He wouldn't have wanted this life."
"And I would?" I spat. "It wasn't good enough for my dad, but it's good enough for me? What the fuck does that say?" I pulled at his arms. "Let go of me, dammit."
He released me at once, and I stumbled a few feet away.
"Your father was ready to die."
"Only because he had to be! He had nothing else he could do! He had to accept it!"
Lucky let out a keening whine and hopped down from the couch to leave the room.
Edward stood up. "I couldn't just change him; neither could the Cullens. It's not that simple. We have to let people die. It's the natural order of things. We can't save everyone. I'm not even sure if it is saving!"
"You chose not to save Charlie. Admit it."
"Carlisle's a doctor, Bella. What do you think he does? Do you think he turns every human whose luck has run out, that it's some Get Out of Death Free card? It doesn't work that way. You don't know it, but you wouldn't even want it to work that way."
"Then explain to me how it works. How can you possibly choose?"
"We have to. The world can't be dominated by our kind."
Nausea swept through me. "Because we're the food source, right?"
"That's not—"
"Maybe not for you," I interrupted, "but for others? I can't imagine most of you…abstain." How many vampires are out there? I wondered. "You need us," I sneered.
He frowned.
"Why on earth would you choose me, when he had no hope? Why am I so damn worthy? What good have I done? I've done nothing with my life. I don't even have a degree! My dad was a good man." There was really no point to this argument. Charlie couldn't be saved now, but I couldn't help wanting to understand. "Why would you choose me over him, if you're going to choose anyone at all?"
Edward's hands balled into fists at the side of his thighs. "I have my reasons."
"Oh, your reasons. So you're God to do as you please?" I taunted. "You get to decide who lives and who dies?"
"I told you it's not that simple."
"I thought you were going to be honest with me."
He pursed his lips, and I watched the muscles in his jaw work once more, as if he was chewing on his frustration.
"Why me?" I asked again.
Scowling, he searched my face. "You're not ready for this discussion."
"I'm not some weak, little girl. Just tell it to me straight." I laughed. "It's not like I haven't handled everything else you've said tonight. I don't know how it is for vampires, but murder isn't something humans tend to just sweep under the rug, so I think I deserve some credit here. Whatever it is—"
"You're my mate."
My stomach knotted up. "Your what?" But I'd heard him just fine and didn't like how fast my heart was beating in reply. Maybe he was right. I wasn't ready for this.
"My mate," he said, louder. Letting his shoulders and hands relax, he stepped toward me, where I seemed to be glued to the floor. "You were made for me," he continued. "Everything about you draws me in—your blood, your mind, your body."
"I don't…" I felt dizzy. "I don't really understand."
"My kind mates for life."
"But you live forever," I whispered.
His lips quirked briefly. "It's a long life, but the divorce rate is nonexistent." He reached out and took one of my hands, ran his fingertips along mine. "I would never change someone without their knowledge, Bella, and as you don't think I'm God, I don't think that either; it wasn't my place to choose for your father.
"You, however, I happen to be very selfish about. If I can cheat your death and God with your permission, I will. I've argued with myself over this, more than you'll ever know—you deserve better than I am or can give; I know that—but I want you and want you to want me. You would be my first and my only. I haven't been picking and choosing humans. I've only chosen you, and that's the way of it, the way it will always be."
I stood still, staring at him, my mouth slightly open, listening to the echo of his words. He was mine. I knew it in my bones. Maybe I'd always known. But did I get any say as to whether I was his? Did I want a say? Could relationships actually work for centuries, for millennia?
My parents' relationship had lasted only a few years.
Why was I even thinking about it?
Because you're stupid and you want him.
Edward's hand curled around mine a little tighter. "Say something."
"It's too much. I need time to think."
Frowning, Edward nodded and released my fingers. "I understand. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"No, no, I'm glad you told me." I think. "I should go home."
"Stay here."
"Edward…"
"I'll leave the house if you want."
"That's… No."
"It's three in the morning. Just go to bed, Bella." He smiled a little. "Besides, you know I don't need to sleep. I'll be down here if you need me."
Neither of us knew what to do with the secrets that had come out. We didn't talk much after the day of Charlie's funeral. Edward spent most of his time at the piano or outdoors with Lucky, and my days were all about ignoring text messages from Renée, seeing Lauren off to New York, and spending hours at Charlie's, where I continued to clear out the many items a man collects after twenty years of living in a house.
I found a shoebox of love letters in the back of my father's closet. Charlie and Renée had said things I'd never known, made their own promises of forever. The people in those letters didn't even seem like my parents.
I cried over their lost youth and entwined joy, because there would always be a childish part of me that wished their marriage had worked out. I cried, too, because I realized I might have something in Edward that they had never had with each other. Forever really was a possibility for me, if I was to believe everything Edward had told me.
I just had to accept everything. The good and the bad.
It was frightening and exciting, but I kept quiet and thought. If Edward had eternity, like he said he did, he could give me time to mull over his confessions of love and death and dieting.
Does it matter that he's killed innocent people, if he's reformed? Don't be stupid. Of course it matters. Do I want to be part of this? How do I handle this?
I never thought of leaving Edward. I thought lots of things, but that wasn't one of them, and I always returned to his home by nightfall, even though we weren't exactly on speaking terms. When it was dark, he left the porch light on to guide me. With no words spoken, the fridge was restocked.
If I accept this, how do I help him heal himself and those he's hurt? How do I forgive him for not saving my dad?
As the hours and days passed, though, I began to think that Edward was right about Charlie not wanting to be a part of the vampire world, even the little I understood of it.
My father had been a more progressive thinker than a lot of people in Forks knew. He'd never bought into the Quileute's prejudices against the Cullens. He'd treated men and women and all races with equal respect. He may have hunted and fished, but he'd hated men murdering other men. He hadn't believed in war or the death penalty.
Vampirism would have made him a killer, and judging by Edward's words, even if he'd been able to commit to the slightly less horrifying lifestyle of animal blood, he'd still have craved humans. He'd have hated himself for that.
If I do this—if I become like him—will I hate myself for that?
Eventually, I let go of my anger. Charlie was gone, and I was mostly at peace with that by now, even if it still hurt. That Edward and the Cullens hadn't "saved" him was just one more thing to let go of. It was childish to think that could have been a cure-all, anyway.
On the fourth day of our standoff, I lay in the warmth of Edward's bed, staring out the large, windowed wall that looked out over his backyard. I could see Edward where he was outside, lying on his back on the ground, Lucky sprawled out beside him.
Edward seemed so out of reach. I missed him, even though I saw him every day. I missed making love and laughing. Was it wrong to want a man who wasn't quite a man? The heart wants what it wants, Renée would say, but then my mother hadn't always known what she was talking about.
My heart wanted Edward. When I thought of him, I didn't think of him as a vampire, though I knew that was what he was. I thought of him as the man who'd hummed lullabies to me, given me a dragonfly fossil and held my hand while my father died. He was a man who'd put my father's memory to music and kissed my tears away.
Man. Vampire. Partner. Lover. Mate.
Labels, sure, but they had meaning. I didn't like the last word—it seemed to suggest I had no choice in the matter—but it felt like it fit, whether I liked it or not. Then again, if I didn't have a choice, neither did Edward; there was a strange sort of comfort in that. We were in this together, knee-deep and scared as hell.
Can I really do this?
I needed to talk to him.
Pulling on jeans and one of Edward's sweatshirts, I went downstairs. I slipped on my shoes and pulled the blanket from the sofa around my shoulders to venture outside. It was the middle of December and freezing in the morning.
"Edward?" I called as I made my way down patio steps. "Can we talk?"
He didn't turn to me, but lifted an arm up, his hand open and inviting. He'd thought to help me down to sit, but I was feeling bold and stepped one foot over his hips to straddle his lap. The distance between us, both physically and metaphorically, melted as soon as we made contact. It was like coming home.
Edward's brows rose high on his forehead as he sat up and bent his knees behind me. His hands found their way to my hips.
"Not that I'm complaining about the seating arrangement, but what's brought this on?"
"I've been thinking a lot…"
"That much has been obvious. It's all over your face." He rubbed his thumbs along my sides, through the fleece blanket and sweatshirt. "What are your thoughts?"
I took a deep breath. "I forgive you for not saving Charlie. I'm…not sure there was even anything to forgive. You were right," I sighed. "I wish you hadn't been, but you were. I just wish you'd told me, but I get why you didn't. He really wouldn't have wanted the life you or the Cullens could give him."
"If there'd been any other way to save him, we would have."
"I know that," I whispered.
"He didn't want this life, but what of you?" he asked quietly. "Do you think you could ever want it—to be with me, in spite of all I've done?"
I chewed on my bottom lip, willing my answer to be one that would satisfy him. I knew I'd do just about anything for him—maybe even give my life for his (though I had no idea how that scenario could ever occur)—but could I live forever for him? I was only twenty-one, young and inexperienced. What did I know of forever to make that sort of decision?
And I'd need to die in the process.
Dying for him in the heat of the moment, when he needed me? I could that. I thought I had it in me to save someone. But calculating my own death, embracing pain for promises I was only beginning to understand? It wasn't easy for me to think about it, having watched Charlie die in pain.
"Edward… I love you, more than you can know. After Jacob, I didn't think I'd trust anyone for a long time—and I didn't until you came along. You and I have been through so much in just a few months, and we've both stuck to it, and I'm glad, but…I don't know the answer to everything yet," I whispered, and I thought I might cry. "I'm sorry."
He smiled, but it was forced. "It's all right. I understand. I wouldn't choose this life either, had I been given the choice."
"I'd never have met you then…"
"Don't you think that might have been for the best?"
"I don't think that at all."
Feeling panicked, I brought my hands up to hold his face. "I'm not saying no, Edward. Okay? I'm not. And I'm glad you're here, now, just the way you are. I just…it's huge, what you're asking of me. I've never faced anything like it before. I can't even begin to understand eternity or what it means. I need to know more before I can make this kind of decision."
He nodded. "But you'll think about it?"
"Of course I will." What he didn't know was that it was all I was thinking about. I could cheat death, the one sure enemy I had. I could have love forever. But I was afraid, too—still afraid this wasn't real, afraid that it was.
Tucking hair behind my ear, Edward said, "I'll just have to show you that you want forever with me. In my day, I'd have courted you, Miss Swan, and you wouldn't have wanted to say no to any proposal I'd have made." He grinned at my blush. "I haven't been doing that so well, I fear. I haven't had much practice playing that kind of human."
"Trust me when I say you're pretty smooth." I was a puddle around him half the time. "But I just want you to be who you are," I said, and he looked down, as if he was shy. It would take time to re-learn him, with all this new knowledge. We both knew that. "Besides," I said with a shrug, "we aren't in 1918 that you have to court me. I'm happy with a burger and fries from McDonald's."
He grimaced, and I laughed—a real laugh. "I'm never taking you to eat there again."
He pulled me a little closer, and my legs tightened around his hips. I narrowly—very narrowly—resisted the urge to grind against him. It didn't matter. He knew what I was feeling, because I saw his eyes darken. His fingers dug into my flesh a little more.
We were so close…
And then I was pressing my mouth to his. He didn't respond at first, but I pressed harder, looking for that point I knew he had, the one where he melted just a little—or a lot. It was dangerous—now I knew just how dangerous—but I didn't care. I knew I'd found it when he deepened the kiss and buried his hands in my hair. I'd missed his hunger.
"You truly love a monster?" he teased once we'd pulled away, but there was uncertainty behind his words.
I shook my head and kissed the corner of his mouth. "No, I love a man who's trying."
Trying was all any of us could do, anyway.
I made right with the Cullens. It wasn't even that hard, and that was how I knew—all over again—that they were my family, no matter how weird that was. It kind of figured I'd fit in with vampires better than my own kind.
Secrets continued to come out.
"What do you mean you can read minds?" I'd asked as we sat in the Cullens' family room.
"I can't read yours," Edward said quickly, sensing my discomfort. "Everyone else's, but not yours."
Alice grinned and added, "It drives him absolutely bonkers. My gift works on you, though!"
"Your gift?" I looked around me. "Do all of you have special abilities?"
Carlisle smiled and shook his head. "We all have certain traits that manifest themselves more obviously in this life, only some more so than others, like Edward and Alice's gifts."
"What can you do?" I asked Alice.
She waggled her fingers. "See the future."
I hadn't believed her until she'd accurately predicted half a dozen things. Then I made them all promise to take a trip to Vegas with me one year.
Knowing the truth didn't make everything easy—sometimes it made life harder—but it was a start, and we were closer without lies coming between us. We sold Charlie's truck at a good price to one of the nurses who'd worked with Carlisle, and Esme—also known as Catherine Moore, licensed home inspector in the state of Washington—inspected the house for problems, of which it only had a few. It'd go on the market at the start of the year, to eventually become only a memory.
And I…I didn't know what I would be doing any time soon. I thought that was okay.
Life had a strange way of going on, even in the face of death and vampires.
Alice and I grew closer. Angela was busy with Ben and their upcoming wedding. Lauren was in New York. Charlie had passed away. The Quileutes were quiet, maybe figuring I was a lost cause at this point, which was fine by me.
I ended up spending time with Alice, partially to avoid the impossible questions I now faced in Edward's presence. It turned out we had a lot in common.
A week after Charlie's funeral, we were working in silence together in his kitchen, cleaning all the nooks and crannies. The refrigerator, table and chairs had been removed. Alice was doing the stovetop and oven. I was on my hands and knees, cleaning the floor. Edward had wanted to help, but I'd told him Alice and I had it covered.
"Didn't Edward tell you we're super fast?" Alice asked. "I could do this whole kitchen in half the time it'd take you to clean the floor."
I shook my head, half in dismissal, half at how crazy my life was now. I'm cleaning the kitchen with a vampire. This was the new normal. "Thanks, but I want to take my time with it. Human time."
"Suit yourself." Alice shrugged and went back to cleaning the stovetop—at human speed. "Any reason you're wanting to work so slowly?"
"Is it really that slow?"
"Are snails slow?"
I snorted. "Sorry. You don't have to stay, you know. I mean, I'm happy to have your company, but if it's annoying doing things this way, I understand."
"It doesn't bother me," she said, and I could tell she was smiling, even though I wasn't looking at her. "It's good to do things slowly sometimes."
"Yeah." I sighed as I pulled my bucket of water with me to the next section of the floor. "So much has happened in the last month."
"Things haven't really gone back to the way they were, have they?"
"Can things ever be normal again?" I countered. Everything had changed. My whole world had changed.
"Maybe it can't be what it was—if that even was normal," Alice said. "Maybe it can be something better."
"Maybe. I don't know."
"Don't you think it'd help if you and Edward worked things out?"
"We have…" I argued half-heartedly. "Sort of." We kissed sometimes. We knew we loved each other. But it was awkward. Edward so wanted me to commit to forever, and I didn't know how to yet.
I stopped scrubbing the floor and looked at Alice as I sat back on my heels. She'd come dressed for cleaning, in old jeans and a ratty t-shirt; I was surprised she even owned anything like it. "Have you seen something about Edward and me?" I asked. "Like, seen it, seen it?"
"What I see is that you're indecisive." Her nose scrunched up as she encountered a stubborn food stain. "Your future is hazy when you're like that. There are too many possibilities. I think fate halfway hangs on our decisions. Some stuff is bound to happen, of course."
"That sucks." If she'd just tell me what to do, life would be so easy! "Wait, though, so you do see some things? Like what?"
Alice pursed her lips. "I try not to interfere with the future."
"Yeah, right," I laughed.
"I don't," she said seriously as she gave me a sharp look. She dropped her rag to the stovetop and moved to sit on the floor beside me. "The future's bigger than I am," she explained. "I don't want to be the one responsible for screwing it up. Small things…sure, I tinker. With the big stuff, it's scary…a delicate balance; every little decision matters. I'm very careful and only interfere when I feel it's necessary."
"But you do try to change things, right?"
Alice's lips lifted in a sad smile as she glanced around the kitchen. "I tried to save your dad, Bella."
My fingers tightened around the wet cloth in my hand. "You what?"
"It wasn't a coincidence that Carlisle was the one to find Charlie when he fainted at the police department this summer."
"You orchestrated that?"
"I tried. If Carlisle hadn't gone to him, Charlie was going to wake up and think he'd just fallen asleep at his desk. He wasn't going to see a doctor at all. I'd thought that maybe our getting involved—making sure he got chemotherapy earlier—would change the outcome. There were so many variables, but I had to try. I knew how much he meant to you."
I wiped tears from my eyes with the back of my wrist. "Thank you, Alice. For trying." It meant more than she'd ever know.
"Sometimes trying isn't good enough." She looked worried.
I sniffed, smelling pine-scented cleaner. "What is it?"
She shook her head.
"You can tell me. I won't breathe a word of it to anybody," I promised.
She smiled a little. "You won't, will you? Well, this is definitely interfering with the future, but a lot's riding on you and Edward—on you especially right now." She frowned. "Maybe it's right for you to know."
"I can handle it," I said, willing her to tell all.
"Okay. There are two main paths I've seen." She waved a hand. "A lot of little others, too, but two main ones. In the first, I see you and Edward becoming a part of my family. You're happy. You're"—she glanced at me nervously—"one of us. In the other, you're alone."
"Alone?" The word makes me feel cold. "How does that happen?"
"I'm not sure… I wish I knew. So much depends on the decisions you guys would make along the way, and I only get little glimpses of things that I have to decipher as best I can. You're older, though, in the vision. In your thirties, I think. You're pretty," she said. "You'd age well, like Charlie and Renée."
"But be alone. Without Edward." The last thing I could ever want. I frowned.
Of course, how could I be with Edward, if I remained a human? I'd get old and wrinkly. People would talk about my too-young boyfriend. And Edward surely wouldn't want to be with me like that…
"Where is Edward in that scenario?"
"He wouldn't be like he is now," she said.
"Like he is now? You mean…" No… "He goes back to human blood?"
She nodded. "It wouldn't be good for him. Human blood consumes who he is. It's that way for all of us, but for him in particular, he goes to a very dark place."
"I don't want that," I said. "How do I keep it from happening?" I still knew very little about Edward's past, but I knew the look he got when he sat at his piano and opened those black folders. I didn't want him to find more reasons to feel tormented.
"You're the only thing keeping him from that future. It's your decision that all of this rides on."
I let that sink in.
"I would lose my humanity if I lost you, Bella."
People's lives depended on my decision. I had the power to make or break a man's will.
"It's hard to love a man with a dark past, I know," Alice said, reaching out to squeeze my arm.
It wasn't loving him that was hard. That was easy. It was making the jump, taking the leap of faith, that was the hard part. Could I really escape death by—essentially—dying? Could I have love that lasted, unlike my parents'? "It's overwhelming…"
"Do you remember Jasper?" she asked, out of nowhere.
"Of course I do."
As if anyone could forget one of the Cullen "children." They weren't Carlisle and Esme's children, adopted or otherwise—I knew that now—but thinking back on them from high school, it was still how I saw them: the four pale-faced Cullen kids sitting together at their own, exclusive table in the cafeteria, barely touching their food.
They'd often been the talk of Forks High—the children who seemed to be more than just siblings. Adopted or not, in small town Forks, that was more than a little taboo. Tall, blond Jasper Hale had loved Alice Cullen, and hulking Emmett Cullen and Jasper's blond-haired supermodel of a twin, Rosalie Hale, had been an item, too. They were the eerie, aloof and beautiful family we'd all secretly envied and tried to dissect.
No one had ever guessed they were vampires.
"I'd thought you two maybe weren't together since the others left for Alaska," I said hesitantly.
"We're together," Alice laughed. "Jasper's my husband."
"Oh! Emmett and Rosalie?" She nodded. "Wow, I guess it all makes sense now." I frowned then. "But why are you guys apart?"
"We won't be for much longer," she answered with a big smile that made her eyes squint at the corners. "Carlisle, Esme and I are going up there for Christmas. We leave in a few days. Esme told you, remember?"
"Oh, yeah…" Edward and I would be alone. I wouldn't have Christmas with Charlie. "That'll be—that'll be good."
"Jasper's a lot like Edward, you know," Alice said. "They've made similar mistakes, and their gifts made it hard for them to deal with those mistakes. Jasper can sense and project emotions. Every mistake he made, he felt what they were feeling, just like Edward heard the thoughts of the people he took." She smiled sadly. "They need us, Bella." She shrugged. "We need them. That's how mating works."
"You make it sound nice," I sighed. Not scary at all.
"It is. Don't you think it'd be nice to be with your match, the one person in the world who gets you?"
"Yeah," I said, "but it's so hard to believe it's real."
She grinned a little. "So you believe in vampires now, but not true love?"
I laughed. "I don't know what I believe anymore."
"That, I know. But you love, Edward, right?"
"Yes," I answered easily, a smile pulling at my mouth.
"You two just need to learn how to be together again." Patting my leg, she stood up and returned to the stove. "You'll figure it out, Bella. And who knows? Maybe one day we'll be sisters."