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Chapter 16

Him

"If ever your God was listening, little sheep, he has long since gone deaf." The voice was no more than a whisper, but it cut through Edward like a white-hot blade.

He sat up, thoughts of Felix's actions forgotten, hair on the back of his neck standing on end, adrenaline surging through his veins.

The depth of the voice, the malice it contained, was unlike anything Edward had heard before.

He groped at the edge of the bench instinctively, searching desperately for defence against this sudden assault on his courage. After a moment, he found his shield: anger at the words themselves. Edward stood, eyes burning into the darkness.

"What creature might speak so to a man of the cloth? Show yourself!"

A chuckle. Unearthly. Edward was gripped with an animal urge to turn and flee, to simply run as fast as he could in a straight line away from this spot. He resisted.

"Show myself? Would that you knew what you ask, mortal fool."

"I ask not. I command. I command with the word of the Lord."

"That word means nothing to me; even should He make such demands of me in person. Run, little priest. Why don't you run? You lie in mortal peril, and you know it."

"I shall fear no evil." More laughter.

"No? We shall see. I answer your demand, priest." In the shadows there was movement, red eyes opening in the dark.

Edward took an involuntary step backward. His knees hit the bench, forcing him to a sitting position. Before he could regain his footing, the creature was upon him.

Edward saw only blurred flashes, so quickly did the thing move. Talons now stretching to him, and then an iron grip around his midsection.

Red eyes. Gaping mouth. Sharp white fangs. He beat at the creature with his fists, and it seemed he beat upon the stone of the cathedral walls themselves. Warm breath against his ear, sharp points against his neck.

"I shall fear no evil!" Edward cried, terrified and desperate. "Save me, oh Lord!" The creature paused, and that horrible laughter came again.

"Your Lord is busy, perhaps? I bring you death, Edward Cullen. You gave your life to your church, and what has it given you back? Betrayal. It is the way with all such institutes of faith.

"The Pope in his Vatican stronghold sells indulgences to his people; they buy salvation with gold and diamonds. The English navy is little more than a band of pirates, licensed by the Church. The man to whom you entrusted your soul preaches the evils of debauchery and lust, and yet has spent these last years lusting only for his disciple. For you.

"The church has failed you. It has taught you nothing that you did not already know for yourself. Man is corrupt. Man is evil. And if man, Edward, is created in God's image, then is not your God corrupt? Is not your God evil? Do you not, in the depths of your heart, know this?"

Edward felt hot, angry tears on his cheeks. In this, his last moment, he felt he knew it very well. Father Felix, the sinner, safe in his church under the eyes of God.

Edward, the faithful servant, trapped here by a creature from the very graves in which soon he was destined to lie. The vampire caressed the contours of Edward's face, grinning above him, seeming to delight in his sorrow.

"You are young and strong and beautiful, little priest, and I am in need of an heir. I offer you the only chance for true salvation you will ever receive. I offer you the opportunity to defy your God, to renounce Him and His image. Renounce your humanity and be reborn, remade, in my own image. Become immortal, and escape the black hand of death."

Edward was gasping for breath. He tried to force his mind to think rationally, tried to find the faith which had once powered him so completely.

He would let this faith guide him into the afterlife, secure in his knowledge that God waited there for him.

He found instead only a memory: the light and sound of eternity from that hospital bed long ago, and his words, spoken not by his mouth but his mind.

Yes. I would live. Until I am dragged, kicking and screaming, to my death, I would live.

Here then was his death, and it would take him regardless. Faith or no faith, acceptance or denial, death held him now and offered only one way of escape.

The young are rash. Edward, twenty-three, with little practical experience outside the world of the church, found his faith tested, and found it lacking.

He leaned his head back, bearing his neck to the creature that held him. Let it happen. Let his body be remade in this image, and so chase away the spectre of death forever. What more evil could it bring than had been allowed within the sanctified doors of his very church?

"So be it," Carlisle whispered. His neck arched, teeth bared, and there was pain … pain like Edward had never before felt. He screamed into the night, but his voice drained away with his blood.

"For ten years I raged in my hatred against humanity with tooth and claw and mind. I took women in pairs, quartets, more. Half a dozen a night I would drain to the last, that I might drown my hate in blood.

"I was the very image of Satan himself, presiding over heights of debauchery that Father Felix could never have conceived. They bathed in each other's blood, and I lapped it from their bodies, to the tune of their cries of passion. They loved it. Oh, they loved it."

They were walking again. Edward looked straight, down the road, unable to meet Bella's eyes. His hands were clenched into fists, his lips pursed into a thin white line.

"They loved it, and I hated them for it. And I hated myself even more."

"Edward." Bella touched his arm.

"Do these things surprise you, Bella?" He took her hand, tightened his own around it for a moment, let it drop.

"No. Not that you hated yourself for it. That's no surprise at all. That's not you, Edward."

"Is it not? Carlisle did not instruct me in these things. His first attempt was a dismal failure. The very next night I awakened, horrified to discover myself on a stone slab in a mausoleum, and Carlisle was there, with a human. He forced the man's neck to my teeth, laughing at my screams, my prayers, my promises of atonement and reasoning with a God I had forever left behind.

"Oh, and his sweat was rank. Bitter. Disgusting. His screams mingled with my own, but I drank … and drank. I felt him pass into death, and I wept. Carlisle looked upon me in disgust and left me there weeping, returning only near dawn to drag me back to the crypt where the coming sun paralyzed my limbs, battered me into sleep.

"It was four days before I drank again. I starved. The thirst raged until I could bear it no longer. I took another human, this time away from Carlisle, who had once again left me to my own devices, appalled at my inability to accept the gift he had given me.

"There was a young woman, kneeling at the grave of her father, whispering, grieving." Edward shook his head, his eyes distant. "I took her like a storm, unfamiliar with my strength, desperate in my hunger. I broke her spine shoving her head backward, tore away the heavy garments at her neck, ripped most of her throat out with my teeth … all of this before she could even have been aware of what was happening.

"And when it was done, I was glad. I was glad to take something from these creatures of God, and leave them nothing in return."

Bella watched him, saying nothing. Edward's face was grim. There was no reminiscence in this tale, only the memory of events he would sooner have forgotten.

"It's all rather sordid, really." Rose came up behind Bella, touched her shoulder, looked at Edward. "Sort of surprising, given your nature, Edward. My first time was so cut and dried. You brought me to that nice man's house in Brooklyn. His wife had passed away earlier that year and he wanted to die. We sat and talked, kissed a little, and then I took him. He died smiling."

"You know less of my nature than you might think, Rose. I've had four hundred years to study it, and learn it for myself."

"Well, what I know of it is that you're way too conservative to be a vampire, and you're really good at getting Bella all nerved up on her first night as one!" Rose touched Bella's shoulder again, smiling, impish, unwilling to allow Edward any more time in his melancholy. Bella laughed.

"Actually, I sort of figure that this can't possibly be as bad as what Edward just described."

"I assure you it won't be." Edward at last looked at her, then glanced down the street again.

They were approaching the first houses on the outskirts of the small town, windows dark and dead. Bella supposed that in the day the town must look quaint and picturesque. She wondered when she would see daylight again, how long it would take before her body was equipped to cope with it, as Edward had told her it would be.

For now, she supposed it didn't matter. Edward and Rose had adjusted to life under the moon. So would she. Strains of music in the air. Bella listened, but couldn't pinpoint the source.

"Where's that music coming from?"

"You owe me fifty dollars." Edward was grinning at Rose.

"Shit. Fuck! I totally thought it'd be at least another half mile."

"What are you talking about?" Bella questioned, bemused.

"I heard it about a mile ago. Edward, probably back by the cars. We made a bet on when you'd hear it, while you were thinking about Edward's story and not paying attention. I didn't think your ears would get that good, that quick." Rose shrugged.

"There is a bar. It is the only place you'll find anyone awake at this hour, without invading homes." Edward gestured down the road, toward the centre of town.

"I think there you will find a suitable—"

"Client," Bella muttered.

Edward raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head.

"Never mind, Edward. Old memories."

"I know those well. This man … you'll know him. You'll sense him. Trust me."

"And why is he suitable?"

"You wanted someone who deserves death, yes?" Bella nodded.

"He beat his wife to death, two years ago, for breaking a glass while cleaning the kitchen. She was six months pregnant with their first child. He beat her to death with a chair leg, and then drove across three states to dispose of her body. He lied his way through the investigation and came out clean. She is still considered a missing person."

"How do you know this?"

"I read the paper, and I read minds. I was curious. I parked my Ferrari, walked through the woods, stood in the shadows outside his home and concentrated until I had all of the information I wanted."

"Why didn't you kill him yourself?" Edward shrugged.

"They are mortals. What does it matter to me? Besides, as Rose mentioned previously, I prefer to drink from women."

"Is this the wrong way to start, Edward?"

"There is no wrong way. There is only the thirst and the blood. Is this what you wanted, Bella? If it is not, I can happily lead you elsewhere, but I thought here you might find some respite from guilt." Bella nodded.

"This will work, Edward. Are you sure I'll know him?"

"You will sense that darkness in him, I believe. For me it shines out like a beacon." Bella took a deep breath, steeled herself.

"Okay, then." She headed for the bar alone.

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Chantinique