Chapter 7 – By Heritage, Not by Choice
Inside the town of Forks, Highway 101 becomes Forks Avenue (either South or North), the main road that intersects the town. Within the incorporated city limits, houses and businesses flank the road, along with stop signs, traffic lights, and the typical hodge-podge of mailboxes and other suburban paraphernalia. Once outside the general boundaries of Forks, the buildings and other signs of 'city life' grow fewer and far between, and give way to small fields, all lying dormant in preparation for winter. Trees or hills constrained the fields, casting long shadows where they blocked out the light.
After making the declaration that we needed to go see Carlisle Cullen, Charlie had shepherded me into his squad car, not waiting for the telltale click of my seatbelt before revving the engine and whipping out of the driveway. He didn't speak as we drove through town, his eyes focused straight ahead. It made me wonder if he really saw the road, or was simply going on some deep-seated instinct that came with years of familiarity. Trees, houses, fields – he'd grown up with it all, this was a known entity for him. It had been for Renee too. To me, it was all brand new.
"Charlie, where are you taking me?" I asked once we left the town proper. His cruiser picked up speed, the trees and fields whipping by – a steady blur of green and brown as the needle crept higher. Sixty, seventy, seventy five miles per hour. Charlie didn't answer my question, his eyes focused on the road, knuckles white from griping the steering wheel so tightly. It wasn't the lack of conversation that sacred me, it was the complete absence of blood where his hands gripped the wheel, like he was as terrified as I felt. "You're starting to scare me. Please talk to me."
Instead of responding, Charlie slowed the cruiser, flipping on the turn signal before making a broad right handed turn onto a long winding lane. It was paved for the first two or three hundred yards, then turned into a narrower path of crushed stone, deep tire grooves worn into the ground, indicative of heavy use.
"Keep an open mind," Charlie said cryptically as we pulled into a broad, oval shaped clearing. At the far end was a large white house, the modern design in odd harmony with the nature around it. "I'll be here with you the whole time."
He didn't say anything more, merely climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. I followed suit, pulling my sweater tightly around my body, more for comfort than for warmth as I pursued Charlie across the clearing to where Carlisle Cullen waited for us.
Edward stood on the steps behind Carlisle, his eyes frantically darting back and forth between my father and his brother. He did not acknowledge me.
"Chief," Carlisle said pleasantly. "This is a pleasant surprise. What can we do for you?"
Charlie darted a glance at me, his face unreadable. "It's time."
Carlisle's brow furrowed, not deep enough to be considered a frown, but the expression revealed a glimmer of concern, or maybe even displeasure. Then as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
"That didn't take long at all, did it?" Carlisle said, turning to face me. "Edward, will you please ask Emmett and Jasper to join me in the garden?"
When Edward didn't move, Carlisle looked back over his shoulder and shook his head, as if responding to some unspoken question. Edward returned Carlisle's gesture with a scowl of his own, refusing to budge. The whole experience was strange, like watching a silent battle of the wills, each man communicating through expressions and slight tilts of the head. Had I not been so spooked, I would have probably found the whole thing comical.
"Fine," Edward finally muttered. He stepped backward, and then turned to enter the house, the heavy wood door swinging open without a sound. "But I don't agree with the way you plan to deal with this."
"When do you?" Carlisle called after him.
Once Edward was inside with the door shut behind him, Carlisle shifted his attention back to me, his smile gentle. "Bella, I'm sure this is all incredibly confusing, and you must be wondering what's going on." He slowly descended the steps, his hands safely tucked in the pockets of his khaki trousers. It felt like he was trying to read me, to evaluate my reactions so that he could adjust his words or actions appropriately. Everything about him, from his easy smile to his relaxed body language asked for trust. It was in direct contradiction to our strange flight out of Forks and the non-verbal standoff that had just occurred on the steps. I stepped closer to my father, seeking comfort in his bulk.
"It's okay, Bella," Charlie said. He placed his hand at the small of my back, applying gentle pressure to encourage me forward. "Nothing is going to hurt you. I'm right here."
The contact was only mildly reassuring as we followed Carlisle around to the side of the large white house. There was a garden area on the north side of the building, full of well-tended flower beds, boxwoods and small trees. A number of oversized rocks, more like boulders, were scattered around the area in an attempt to marry the more formal gardens with the wilderness that surrounded it. The effect was a calming - the elegant English landscaping designed to fade into the organic growth that surrounded it, seamlessly melding manicured boxwood with natural pine and rock. It was a surreal visual, and yet the blending of the two concepts felt strangely normal.
"Bella Bella fo fella!"
Emmett's loud greeting split the silence, his smile one of genuine pleasure as he rounded the back corner of the house, Jasper following closely behind. It took me a minute to put my finger on what felt so strange about the scenario. In all my interactions with Jasper, he'd been a leader or an individual, charting a course for me to follow. Seeing him hang back behind his brother-in-law spooked me just as much, if not more, than my father's perplexing reaction back at the house.
"Bella," Carlisle started slowly, "I am sure you are wondering why your father has brought you here, and why he wants me to talk to you. Before I do, I want you to know that you are safe here. No one or thing is going to hurt you."
It was the second time someone had mentioned that I was safe from harm – which set me further on edge. I'd asked for answers, an explanation as to why my mother felt the need to run or why my father hadn't looked harder for me. Those answers should reside with Charlie, not some strange man who wasn't that much older than I was. What could Carlisle Cullen know about something that transpired between my parents when he and I were both no more than children?
"Do you read much, Bella?" he asked, stepping a bit closer. His strange golden brown eyes were gentle and full of wisdom – much older than a man in his mid to late twenties.
"Yes, but I don't see what-"
"Have you ever read anything about vampires?" he asked. The accent I'd picked up on at the hospital was more pronounced now, his a's sound like eh's, very proper and suddenly very British.
How the hell would a British child end up in the American foster care system?
I glanced back at my father, but Charlie wouldn't meet my eye. He was focused exclusively on Carlisle, his jaw locked so tight I could see a muscle pulsing just below his ear.
When I looked back at Carlisle, Emmett had moved to stand beside him. The large man was a bundle of energy, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet like an excited little boy. Jasper stood in the same position on the opposite side of Carlisle, his gaze focused solely on me. When our eyes met, he smiled, giving me a gentle nod of encouragement.
It's okay, nothing bad is going to happen, I reassured myself before returning my attention back to Carlisle.
"Dracula was on the curriculum in high school." I said, answering his query. "And I've read some other things here or there."
Carlisle nodded to Emmett, who, in a few long strides, was halfway across the garden. He bent over, grasping one of the giant boulders on the perimeter at the edge of a flower bed.
"I hope you cleared this with Esme," Emmett said before tugging the giant piece of stone out of the ground. My hand instinctively flew to my mouth as Emmett lifted the boulder easily over his head. It could have been made of papier mâché or foam the way he hefted it around. "Where do you want it?"
"Toss it in the woods," Jasper said. I tore my gaze from the unbelievable display of strength unfolding in front of me to stare at him in disbelief. The corners of his mouth angled upward into a small smile, and he nodded again, a small show of encouragement. He wanted me to trust him, to keep an open mind. Jasper had helped me get to this point, and even if it was misguided. I had to believe he wouldn't steer me wrong now.
"Alley-oop!" Emmett said, pulling my attention back just in time to see the giant boulder fly high in the air. The effort came from the size, not the weight, for the giant stone flew forty or fifty feet before falling back to earth, taking down a few small trees in its descent. When the rock crashed to earth, so did I, my legs giving out from underneath me.
What I'd witnessed was not humanly possible.
I could feel Charlie's hand on the back of my head, his leg solid and warm against my back. "Was that really necessary, Doc?"
"Yes, Carlisle, was that really necessary?"
Edward knelt on the ground next to me, his hand bracing my elbow. It was like he'd appeared out of nowhere, his eyes narrowed in anger. He hardly resembled the hesitant, shy man who I'd come to know over the past few days.
"Bella is visual," Carlisle said, his hands still tucked in the pockets of his pants. "I believe she is part of the Harry Truman 'show me' school of thought. Emmett's little display was to open her up to what I need to tell her."
"Little display," I gasped, my ability to speak rushing back to me. "He – it – whatever that thing is-" I said, pointing at Emmett, whose face had fallen during my waffling as to what exactly he was, "threw a boulder that probably weighed four hundred pounds like it was nothing more than a beach ball. That is not normal!"
"Nothing about us is normal, Bella. You've noticed that by now," Jasper said, finally stepping forward. "You've picked up on the little details, things that don't make sense. I know you have."
I looked from Jasper to Carlisle, and then to Emmett. They were all the same, their eyes a strange honey gold color, their skin incredibly pale. Even stranger, they didn't have any markings – no freckles, laugh lines or scars. Nothing at all that would indicate age. They were all flawless and beautiful.
I immediately turned to my right, staring directly into Edward's face. It was more of the same, only his eyes were shadowed by subtle purple crescents, the same ones I get when I am overly tired.
It wasn't physically possible. They weren't related, and yet they all had the same basic features.
"What are you?" I demanded as I catalogued the other little details - the different last names, the lack of physical resemblance beyond the coloring, the different accents. They all stood too still, and when they did move, a little fidget here or there, the motion wasn't quite casual. It was like every action was a calculated effort as opposed to an involuntary gesture. I looked up at my father, whose face was composed and completely neutral. "What do they have to do with me, with us?"
"You wanted to know why Renee left, Bella, why she took you and ran. You need to realize that this is a lot bigger than just your mother and me." He knelt down, his knees popping as he lowered himself to eye level. "They are good people. Some of the best I know-"
"Are they even people?" I demanded, scrambling to my feet. Both Charlie and Edward followed suit, Edward moving much faster, his hand never leaving my elbow. "People aren't that strong. People have marks on their bodies…" my eyes darted to the house, considering the others I'd interacted with. "People that aren't related don't have the exact same funky eye color and pasty white skin."
"We are all related, Bella. Well, most of us," Carlisle glanced quickly at Jasper. "I made both Emmett and Edward. Rosalie, too. Jasper came to us later."
"Made?" I asked, too stunned to temper my words. "How can you make someone? You aren't God. You don't make a person!"
"No, I can't make a person," Carlisle answered, his response almost…weary. "But they were dying, and so I saved each of them by making them vampires."
Vampires. The whole concept was ridiculous and irrational. Vampires were bedtime stories, things that populated horror movies and bad paperbacks. They were not strange, beautiful people who lived in the middle of nowhere.
"That's rich," I laughed, my voice betraying the panic that was quickly overtaking me. These…things had completely conned my father, but why? And why would they try and convince me to believe in some ridiculous myth that only existed in literature and movies? "You say vampires like it should be rational. People are democrats, they are vegetarians - they aren't vampires."
"Well, I'm two out of three," Carlisle countered, smiling indulgently. "I can't register to vote, therefore I don't have a political affiliation."
I opened my mouth to pop off with a smart assed response, but checked myself. There is no point arguing with a mad …
Mad what? Mad man? Was he even a man?
"I don't know what sick game you are playing, or how you…" I threw a pointed glare at Charlie, "were sucked into this, but I refuse to listen anymore."
My intent had been to turn and walk back to the squad car, but somehow Jasper moved fast enough to block my way. I could have sworn he was just standing next to Carlisle. He must have moved when I wasn't paying attention.
"Bella, you know something isn't right with us. There are too many little things. Why can't you accept what we are?"
"What you claim to be defies logic!" I shot back. "Vampires are the thing of literature and bad movies, made up morality tales!" I pointed at the large windows that flanked the garden area, our images clearly reflected back at us. "If you are a vampire, prove it. Turn into a bat. Show me your fangs. Do something!"
Emmett snorted at my rant, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
"What?" I demanded, the panic giving way to a strangely irrational anger. "Just because you are big as a house and freakishly strong, it doesn't mean that you are the walking undead. Freaks are freaks, plain and simple."
"And obstinate is obstinate," he countered. "But there are some things you can't deny. We talk funny, at least by your standards. Carlisle has a hint of a British accent, Jasper and I sound southern, but our accents aren't the same. Rosie sounds like she's a damn Canuck. None of us are related but we look alike, and all appear to be the same age. What more proof do you need? How can we look similar, yet sound different? Give me a rational explanation."
"Contact lenses and SPF 50," I countered. "Makeup-"
Emmett was suddenly just a few inches from me, his large frame towering over mine. "Take a good look, Bella. I wasn't born with it, and this most definitely isn't Maybelline."
"Emmett," Carlisle cautioned.
"No, let him be," Jasper said, "touch his face, Bella. He won't hurt you."
My hand shook as I slowly raised it to touch Emmett's cheek. The skin was solid, the surface smooth and soft and incredibly cold. It didn't give like skin and muscle would though, the tissue underneath Emmett's pale cheek was freakishly solid. No makeup gave way under my fingertips, and there was no telltale fine line around his irises to indicate the presence of contact lenses.
In a blur of motion, Emmett whipped his head to the side, a snarl escaping his lips. I jerked my hand back to my chest, a sound that was half shriek, half squeal filling the quiet of the forest. Just as quickly, Edward was in between us, his hand locked on Emmett's throat as he threw the large man just as far as the boulder had flown just minutes earlier. Emmett came down with an ear splitting crash, chunks of wood and leaves raining down on him.
"Do not-" he hissed as Emmett sat up, a twig sticking out of his hair. "You've made your point, now back off."
"You are worse than I thought," Emmett said, climbing to his feet. He was smiling again, the same genuine smile he'd worn at our first meeting. "It's about damn time, too."
"ENOUGH!" Edward roared, his hands clutched in fists at his sides. There was no resemblance to the quiet, sweet man who'd helped me find my way in the woods or left me holly. He was a stranger. They all were.
"Boys, please," a petite woman called from the corner of the house. She had long light brown hair, which framed her small, oval face. She looked like an ingénue from a 40's film, wavy hair and curves. Everything about her said 'trust me' – until I made it to her honey gold eyes.
"Emmett, Edward, inside please, you've made your point," Carlisle said, his voice even. He sounded like a father dealing with two petulant children, not a –
A what?
"I'll stay," Jasper said, inching closer to me. "It'll be okay."
At first I thought he was talking to me, and I wanted to tell him it was far from okay, but then
I realized Jasper was looking directly at Edward. In all the uproar, I'd forgotten about him. It'd been disturbing enough to watch Emmett pick up a boulder and heave it half the length of a football field. Watching Emmett fly the same distance, tossed by the man who I'd held hands with less than sixteen hours ago was another matter all together.
"I'm not-" Edward said, but Carlisle refused to cede any ground, holding up his hand to end Edward's argument.
"Bella's fine with me," Charlie said, making it clear he would accept no back talk.
"Go, it will be okay," Carlisle assured Edward, who shot me a pleading glance. He wanted me
to tell him to stay.
All I could think was that I didn't know him at all.
Charlie slipped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in closer to him. The nonverbal cue was clear – he would protect me. I didn't need Edward for that.
"Very well," he said, head bowed to avoid all eye contact as he slowly began to cross the clearing, away from us, his broad shoulders drooping in defeat. Emmett fell into step beside him, an arm draping loosely around Edward, just like my father had done for me.
Edward did not shake him off.
"Bella, I think you should sit down," Carlisle said, pulling my attention back to the clearing. He inclined his head towards a large rock, which was flat on top, almost like the surface of a table. I looked up at Charlie, who nodded slowly.
"It's okay, I'm right here. I promise you, I am not going anywhere."
Pressing my hands flat against the rock, I pulled myself up onto the surface, wrapping my arms around my knees and hugging them against my chest. Carlisle stepped closer, Jasper mirroring his motions, always just a step behind him.
"This isn't going to make a lot of sense, Bella," Carlisle said slowly, "but everything I say is true. The display you just saw, the strength, the speed, it's just a tiny portion of who we are."
"Vampires," I said dully. It wasn't a confirmation, more a recitation. Maybe I'd misunderstood or misheard – this was his opportunity to correct.
"I'm the eldest," he said, continuing without missing a beat. "I was born in the 1640's. I was changed to become what you see sometime in the 1660's. Time was not logged the same way it is now, so I'm not quite of my actual age. I probably wasn't much older than you when I was made this way."
"I'm twenty-two," I muttered lamely.
"Twenty-three next week, but we'll be getting to that soon enough." He didn't pause, just plowed straight ahead, like he was telling a story. Which, I suppose, he was. Whether it was true or not remained to be seen. "After my change, I spent some time wandering by myself, learning the ways of my new world. In Italy, I came across a coven of vampires, powerful and ancient, who took me in. They are called the Volturi."
I opened my mouth to speak, but Carlisle continued on, oblivious.
"The Volturi are led by three men, who call themselves 'brothers,' although there is no physical or biological connection. The three, Aro, Marcus, and Caius, act as a Triumvirate, a sort of monarchy if you will. They consider themselves civilized, and claim a foundation of peace, but their rule is dictatorial. They mete out punishment for laws they feel are broken, although justice has also been used to protect knowledge about our existence. One such example of that power in execution was the Southern Vampire Wars, which took place in Mexico roughly one hundred and fifty years ago. Great hordes of vampires swarmed the area, trying to stake their claim to power. That is where Jasper came into existence."
I jerked my head in Jasper's direction, my eyes wide. This was the last chance, the one rational person who would tell me that this was all a lie. Jasper had been straight with me. He wouldn't lie to me now.
He inclined his head in an informal bow. "Major Jasper Whitlock, ma'am. Terry's Texas Rangers."
No, I wanted to cry, as my last shred of hope faded away. Not him too.
He nodded slowly, understanding what I didn't say. It was true.
"I spent a few decades with the Volturi," Carlisle continued, "during that time I came to realize that Aro, who is the de facto leader, is a megalomaniac who will do anything to maintain control. While the Southern Wars were harmful to our existence, there were other ways it could have been handled. In the end, the Volturi used it as a show of force, a way to establish their absolute dominance over our kind. People are afraid of them now, afraid to violate their laws or gain attention for fear of reprisal."
"What reprisal?" I asked, too far sucked into his story to resist any longer.
"Destruction, plain and simple," Carlisle hesitated for a moment before continuing. "The Volturi have grown lazy and apathetic in their power. They refuse to allow us any type of interaction with the human world. We have knowledge, abilities that could make the world a better for everyone. The damage done to your bodies and this planet hurts us too. We can help to fix things, make things better, but the Volturi fear exposure, and therefore will not allow it. Some of us have grown tired of living under their antiquated approach to governance."
"You make it sound like you are planning a revolution," I said. "All clean and organized. Capitalizing on the Major's military skills to lead the putsch?" It was a logical leap—overthrow a corrupt government and reform it. Vampire, communist, dictator, it was all relative. It was also mad and ridiculous, and I was losing my mind for thinking that way. I was accepting things that made no sense.
"In a matter of speaking, yes," Carlisle agreed. "We've been making plans, biding our time, waiting for the final piece to fall into place."
"And what would that be?" I asked, every last instinct shouting abort, abort!
"You, Bella," Carlisle said, pausing for dramatic effect. "We've been waiting for you for two hundred and eighty nine years."
"No," I said, refusing to sit quietly any longer. I was up, off the rock, moving towards my dad's police cruiser. "This is just …no. I want to go home, now."
"Bella, wait," Charlie chased after me, grabbing my wrist. I spun around to face him, everything that had been bottling up inside of me finally breaking free.
"What? I totally get why Renee ran now. You people are loony tunes. Keep the house, keep the money. I don't want it. Just …just let me go!"
I tried to yank free, but his grasp on my wrist was too strong…and then it didn't matter, because Carlisle was talking again, and his words chilled me to the bone.
"Within a canopy of green, six months past Saint Marcus Day, Irish servant will bend English oak to make a vow of strongest stone. In the enigma year, purest gold embraces ruby red as the libertines suffer their fate. Regina Vampira, one woman to guide all."
I spun around to face him, shocked and confused.
"How could you know about the vow?" I demanded. It was the same as my dream, the vow.
I'd been hearing it over and over again in my dream for almost a week.
"St. Marcus Day is March nineteenth," Carlisle said. "Exactly six months before your birthday. The surname Swan is Irish, and means servant. Higgenbotham is English, and is a reference to oak."
I put my hands up to stop him, but his words continued on, like a torrent of water slamming against the fragile walls of my emotional fortress. "Your proper name is Isabella, which means vow, and next week you will turn twenty-three. In some ancient mystical, the number twenty-three is considered an enigma, a harbinger of important things or events."
Carlisle continued on, my father doing nothing to stop or correct him.
"The prophecy, for that's what it is, Bella, a prophecy, was made on St. Marcus Day in 1721.
I was there, I heard it. So did all the Volturi. We've all been waiting for you, watching for the Irish Servant and the English Oak. That's why we came to this area after World War II, and why they followed. They wanted to stop you before you were even born, and did everything in their power to make sure that the necessary unions never came to be-"
"The fire of 1951," I interrupted, recalling the inscription in the book. Out of tragedy grew hope.
"They were ready to destroy the entire town, to eliminate the risk. I convinced the Volturi that
I had nothing against them, that I was not pursuing the prophecy, merely living out a peaceful existence with my family. Unfortunately, by then it was too late, and they started the fire that engulfed a portion of the town. It was ironic in a way, for their actions set off a chain of events that brought your grandfather to Forks. The fire sparked the economic surge that brought your grandparent's marriage to fruition. They are responsible for your existence, the one thing they wanted to prevent from coming to be."
I'd thought the inscription in the book was a romantic gesture, some declaration of love. Maybe it had been, but it was more than that. Out of their marriage had grown my father, and from my father came me.
The vow.
"That's why Renee ran away," my father said. He let go of my wrist, but didn't step away. "She knew what would come, and she didn't want that. Not for you, but not for herself either. She took you to the desert, to the hardest place for any of them to follow. She took you to protect you, and to give you a chance at a normal life."
Carlisle extended his hand, his palm facing down. I hadn't realized until he moved that he was standing in the shade of the pine trees. When the faint rays from the sun hit his hand, it shimmered, like a million tiny crystals were hidden below his skin.
There was no way he could have ever escaped notice in the perpetual sunlight of Phoenix.
Maybe some people just need the light to feel safe. They don't like shadows.
I turned, and walked across the clearing, directly into the shadows.
I didn't know where to feel safe anymore than I knew what was real. I embraced the shadows, not allowing Carlisle to explain what the rest of the prophecy meant. If the dreams that had been haunting me were any indication, I already knew, and it was too damn much to take in. Red eyes, gold eyes.
Regina Vampira.
Vampire Queen.