Chapter Eight

1 After everything was decided, Bella went upstairs to take a look at her sleeping daughter. This was, curiously enough, the first time since she'd turned that she walked from A to B without someone telling her to go there (this morning's panic attack didn't count). Of course, this was the first day she'd actually done anything on her own (and what a day it had been!). Still, they didn't just let her prance around unsupervised – well, Jasper didn't. Even though she knew that being followed around all the time would soon get old, Bella was actually glad of it. After what she'd done this morning, there was no leaving her alone. She'd dismissed the hardships of being a new-born when she'd still been human. Worse than that, she'd just accepted the fact that she'd probably end up murdering innocent human beings on her road to becoming a mature, 'vegetarian' vampire.

That was despicable, to say the least.

Hadn't she had any conscience? Had she been that blinded by the sparkly glamour of vampirism?

The answer was unpleasant, but simple: yes. Yes, she had been. She'd wanted youth and wealth and eternal life. She'd wanted to dazzle lowly humans with her supernatural beauty. She'd wanted to lord her speed and strength and power over everyone.

Now, she was trapped in this foreign body that could only function properly if it fed on the living blood of human beings. She was a parasite. There was no other word that could describe the nature of her existence more properly. That was what she was. That was the price she had been willing to pay when she'd still been a human, a part of nature.

Gingerly, she stepped into the room Renesmee's quick, feathery heartbeat came from. It was Rosalie and Emmett's bedroom. Just like Edward's, it was pretty richly furnished, sporting a truly huge bed, a commode, shelves with DVDs and CDs on them, loads of framed pictures and some pretty old-looking jewellery boxes. Renesmee's small and slender frame almost got lost in that monster of a bed. Next to her, Rosalie sat, frozen like a statue, watching the little girl sleep. Rosalie didn't blink, didn't move, didn't breathe; she just sat there, perfectly still, watching. She had that enchanted, fascinated look on her face that just seemed so out of place, because it simply didn't fit in with what Bella knew of Rosalie's personality.

Hey, she remembered! Three months of confusion seemed all but wiped away, and Bella could recall more and more of what she'd lived through and who she'd been. True, it still felt like reading someone else's biography, but it was better than nothing. It had to be the human blood – it just had to. Would this wear off once the blood started working its way out of her system? She'd have to ask Jasper about it. He'd know. He'd be the only one to actually talk candidly about any of this, too. He, at least, understood.

"Rosalie," Bella said lowly, softly, not wanting to startle anyone.

"You can speak normally," Rosalie said, not taking her eyes off the child. She reached out and gently caressed Renesmee's rich brown curls. "She won't wake. She needs her rest, which is why I always watch over her at night. No-one must be allowed to pose a risk to my perfect little angel."

Having to force herself to move, Bella slowly walked to the bed's side and looked down at her child. The girl looked so sweet, so innocent, sleeping like this. Yes, it was a cliché, but that didn't make it any less true. There were so many questions her mere existence raised, though, apparent innocence or not. Was Renesmee even a child? Was this a clueless little girl, or did she know exactly what was happening? Irina had told Bella that Renesmee had an adult mind, that she'd been born with it. She'd also told Bella that Jacob had imprinted on Renesmee, and that therefore, he could not be trusted to do the right thing at all.

What was the right thing, though?

This was her child – her baby. Bella had carried her to term and birthed her. She'd died in the process of giving birth, in fact. Here she was, looking down at this sleeping kid, her kid, saw herself in the child's features, and yet…

…and yet, she felt nothing. This was so, so strange. She had a daughter – powerful, supernatural, possibly malevolent, maybe only amoral – and could not feel love for her. Didn't love for one's offspring come naturally? Well, yes, in humans it did, and in the beginning, it was mostly due to hormones. Bella didn't have any human hormones being produced to ensure that she love and care for a helpless infant. Bella wasn't human, and Renesmee did not require her care.

This was all so, so messed up.

As Bella recalled bits and pieces of her pregnancy, she wondered why no-one had thought it out of character for her to cling so desperately to this unborn baby. Bella had never wanted children in her life. She had dreaded sharing her mom's fate: getting pregnant at a young age and letting the responsibilities of parenthood wreck her teenage years, produce and end a marriage before said marriage had even a chance of blossoming. It hadn't just been that, though. Bella had not wanted kids, full stop. Then, the moment she'd become aware of her pregnancy, she'd been willing to throw her own life away without even questioning this, without considering the alternative? This was so weird. It was creepy.

"What does she eat?" she asked, instead.

Rosalie would still not look away from the girl. "Blood. Human food, too – red meat, mostly. We feed her everything. She's very uncomplicated that way."

"Good," Bella said dully. Well, it was good. If Renesmee could eat human food, no-one had to die for her. Yes, the blood-bags they used couldn't help humans in need, so that meant death to a lot of them, too, but perhaps, at some point, Renesmee could be weaned off the blood and-

"Why can't you see what she wants to show you?" Rosalie stared up at Bella out of big, cold, unblinking yellow eyes.

The sudden movement and the harshness of Rosalie's granite face made Bella flinch and recoil. She felt Jasper's hand on her elbow and nodded at him. "It's all right," she said, and made herself face Rosalie again. The capillaries in Rosalie's eyes seemed to be pulsating with the pinkish-white mucus flowing through them, and it was hard to look at that and not give into the impulse of grimacing. "I'm a shield, like Edward said. I can't help it."

"All she wants is to have a loving family," Rosalie said flatly, her expression blank and stony. This was…what was this? A symptom of being too exposed to Renesmee's power? Something normal for a vampire? It was so hard to tell.

Bella only knew that she knew nothing at all about what was natural for her kind and what wasn't. This was so annoying. Worse than that, it was potentially life-threatening. "Of course," she said, not even bothering to try to smile. It would only look fake. "She has that, whether I can see what she wants to show me, or not."

"Promise."

Again, Rosalie's tone made Bella wince. As a human, she probably would have gotten a dry mouth or a knot in the throat. Maybe her heart would have started beating faster. She probably would have started sputtering like a moron. There was nothing there, though, apart from the wish to run away fast and hard. "I promise." Her voice was deadpan and betrayed no emotion whatsoever. For the first time, she was glad of it. Not that she'd had problems telling lies as a human, but now, in her confusion, she'd probably fail spectacularly.

"Good." Rosalie focussed her attention on Renesmee again, smiling. "You hear that, sweetie? Everything is all right. We all love you so much. We will never, ever allow anyone to hurt you. You're safe. You're safe forever."

"I'll…go," Bella said, feeling stupid, and woodenly marched out of there, down the hall, into Edward's bedroom. Jasper followed her. Once in the room, she turned around to face him. "You don't have to stalk me, you know. I'm fine."

"What when the living blood starts wearing off? Will you still be fine?"

She looked at him, saw his face and the scars and the yellow of his eyes (there was a strangely appealing, interesting symmetry to the pattern of criss-cross lines on his skin), felt relief at being able to see not everything ever all at once, and shook her head. "I have no idea. You tell me. Will I go back to being blind and deaf and dumb and useless?"

Unsurprisingly, he smirked. "Yes," he said. "That's exactly what's gonna happen."

"How long until it starts?"

"Two weeks, maybe less. You still have traces of human remains in your cells – your remains. You don't need as much blood as a mature vampire. If you keep drinking dead blood from a bag, the deterioration will be slower, but it'll happen. Your memory will start to slip. You will get sluggish, weaker, more sensitive to pain, emotionally numb. Maybe you'll even relapse into sensory chaos. Not all vampires react the same, but some of the symptoms are universal."

Bella raised her eyebrows at him. "You could at least say you're sorry."

"You want me to lie to you?" he said, and snickered when he clearly saw something that amused him on her face. "Look at you, all shocked and awed. It's the life you chose, Bella. You should be grateful someone at least has the guts to give it to you straight."

Again, she had to admit that he had a point. "True," she said. "So, living on blood-bags will render me helpless, eventually."

"Yes, ma'am." Well, didn't he seem chipper about it?

Dread washed over her like an ice-cold tsunami. Bella sat down on the bed and stared at him, wide-eyed. "But…living animal blood?"

He laughed softly, rubbed at his eyes, shook his head. "I truly hate to break it to you, sweets, but it's disgusting. It tastes like hot garbage. That's the single most repulsive crap you'll ever put in your mouth, and I am neither exaggerating, nor making some sophomoric innuendo. You'll hate it. Everybody hates it. I hate it. It's revolting and it makes you stupid."

"But…it's living blood, so…doesn't it-"

"Keep your brain functioning? In a sense. It's better than dead blood from a bag, which doesn't do much good at all long-term apart from tasting decent, but it's not the real deal, either. Also, the taste of animal blood, no matter which animal it's from, is truly terrible. It makes you nauseous even after decades of forcing it down your gullet. Chances are, you'll just chuck it all up again the first few dozen times you try it. I know I did. Why do you think it's so damn hard to keep to that diet? Surely not because it's less appealing, like a turnip would be to a steak."

"I…that's just awful. Why did no-one tell me any of this before?"

"Would you have listened?" He waited, but she just kept on staring at him, dumbstruck. "Didn't think so, either."

That was when Bella heard heavy steps trudging up the stairs.

Little later, Edward appeared in the doorframe. He had a pained, serious expression on his weird, grainy face. "Jasper, I need to talk to my wife – alone."

Jasper just kept on serenely scrutinising Bella for a few more seconds, but then he nodded, said, "I'll be downstairs if you need me," and ambled outside.

A small, awkward eternity went by as Bella and Edward just looked at each other in silence. Finally, when she was about to say something just to get the ball rolling, he closed the door, pulled the desk-chair up, and planted himself in it. Another good long while passed whilst he just stared down at his hands on his knees.

"I knew that this was gonna be difficult – your transformation. I knew it," he said quietly, and it sounded so defeated, Bella didn't know whether to feel sad or angry. "I just didn't think it would be like this."

"You've witnessed other people's transformations."

"This is different. It's worse with you. You're worse."

Anger flashed through her petrified innards like a white-hot poker. She bristled. "What you really want to say is that I suck as a vampire, isn't it? That I let you down?"

"That's not it – not all of it, in any case. The real difference between how I felt about other people turning and you is this: I didn't care about how they saw me, about how they reacted to me. I care about your reactions, though. I care about your feelings toward me and how you see me," he said, and raised his face to look at her. "You wouldn't let me help you when you were helpless. You basically kicked me out of the room. Then, three months later, you had a panic attack when you saw me, crashed out of a window, and went on to kill four humans. Am I not supposed to take that personally?"

Bella just blinked at him in surprise for a while. What? When had he tried to help her? When had her transformation difficulties become about him? This was all so confusing. "I didn't panic because of you. I panicked because of me. I looked in the mirror and saw a monster."

"You looked at me and saw one, first."

"Well, no-one bothered to tell me that that was gonna happen before I turned."

His expression became unfriendly. "I didn't want to turn you at all."

That was true. She closed her eyes for a moment. "That's on me. I know that now. I'm sorry I was so selfish. It's not your fault." She shrugged, resigned. "It's mine. I should not have placed that burden on your shoulders. Please forgive me."

"So…are we even still married, Bella? Do you love me? Now that I don't look like I used to, now that you see me how I really am, can you still love me?"

Her head started pounding in dull pain. She kept her eyes closed, counted to ten, made herself face him again. He didn't look like a monster anymore. Yes, he was still anything but human, and it was still odd to see him like this, but with all that living human blood inside of her, she could look at him and imagine how it must be like to see something beautiful. She could almost remember what it had felt like to be infatuated – almost. Not quite.

"I hardly know who I am right now," she said, at length. "Please don't make me answer that question. I can't – not now."

"With all that blood in your body, you should know how you feel. All I want is to know if we're still a couple."

She shook her head jerkily. "Don't bully me, Edward. I can't answer your question. I don't even know if I want to live…no, to exist like this. How can I even begin to think about marriage? It's all so far removed from me. I'm already acting against my better judgment and not going with Jacob to see Sam tomorrow morning, just because you asked me to." Told her to, actually, but why be pedantic about it? It would only antagonise him more. "Please just give me some space."

He let it sink in for a moment, nodded, and pushed himself up to his feet. "Don't take too long. I can't take my heart being broken all over again," he said, and left the room without waiting for a reply.

Bella stared after him, dumbstruck and lost for words.

2 The morning came quickly, and from the moment Leah woke up, she was pervaded by a strange sensation of end-times. Instead of crushing her down with the weight of fear, this made her feel light, weightless. It was funny, in the sense of both strange and amusing. Something similar had happened back when she had still been part of Sam's pack and they had all (well, most of them) fought Victoria's new-born army. That day, death had been a distinct possibility, but today, it was almost a certainty. Sam would probably not kill the messengers right there and then (he was a good man despite the imprint), but he'd decide to end this horror-show. She couldn't picture a scenario where he would just let the Cullens walk.

Anyway, speculating her impending doom was moot. Either Sam would decide to declare war on them, or he would not. He'd already agreed to meet them halfway between Forks and their territory, in the forest, to talk. Jacob would plead his case. Sam would listen. The rest was written in the stars, but only an idiot would cling onto hope of a peaceful outcome at this point. The treaty had been broken too many times, and now, four human beings had paid the ultimate price. There was no taking that back. Promises of keeping Bella on a leash from now on would not work. People had died. If Leah wasn't stuck with Team Murder, she'd be the first to advocate erasing this blight that were these vampires from the face of the Earth. Things being as they were, though, she was going to do her best to protect her pack; protecting her pack, however, unfortunately meant protecting the Cullens and the demon-spawn.

No, it wasn't ideal, but what the hell. Life wasn't fair. Boo-hoo. You picked up the pieces, glued them back together, and moved on. You adapted.

You adapted or you got left by the roadside, i.e. you fucking died. End of story. Finito.

This time, they didn't phase into wolves in order to run to the meeting point; no, they remained human and drove up to the place in question in one of the flashy Cullen cars, with Jasper and Edward riding shotgun and driving, respectively.

During the short ride, no-one said a word. The two vampires were, as usual, dressed to impress in obviously expensive jackets and gloves and scarves, even though the clothes couldn't warm them. Jacob was only in jeans and t-shirt, whilst Leah had pulled on the oldest sweater she owned. If she did have to phase in a hurry, she'd shed no tears over this worn-out, shapeless, holey thing getting ripped to shreds.

When they got to the spot in question, they stopped the car by the side of the road, got out in silence, and walked into the forest slowly, calmly. To Leah, it felt like she was dreaming. It wasn't real, somehow. Her brain refused to acknowledge the absurdity of the entire situation. The weather wasn't helping, either, what with the cloudless blue sky and the cheerful sunshine. Well, if they were going down, at least they would go down in style.

"Are we early or are they late?" Jasper said, as they got to the designated spot at a small clearing through which a little creek bubbled.

"They're late, of course," Edward said.

"No, they're not, and don't say 'of course' like it's the most obvious thing ever," Jacob said, glaring at him. "Jackass."

"Whose side are you on, again?" Edward shot back, tensing up.

Jacob's expression turned defeated. "You know whose side I'm on. That doesn't mean I'm gonna let you push me around, understand?"

"If you two keep going like this, Sam won't have problems deciding anything," Leah said, shaking her head, crossing her arms. "If Jacob bites it, there's no need to protect the imprint. If Wardo does, Bella will kill herself and there'll be no more need for retribution. Problem solved."

"You're not helping," Jacob said, making a face.

"I wasn't trying to."

"Stop it, children, before one of the adults has to step in and take punitive measures," Jasper said, sounding jovial. "Listen up; here they come."

Company was on the way, indeed: three of them, as far as Leah could hear. Of course Sam wasn't going to come alone, but bringing only two other wolves for backup was bold. Well, to be fair, Sam probably didn't know what the little Cullen envoy had to confess.

"Only three," Jasper said very lowly, his voice a barely audible whisper. "If they attack, we can take them on."

"They won't attack, and no-one will get hurt," Jacob shot back, keeping his voice down, too. "Don't provoke them, and don't make them aggressive on purpose."

"I'm not doing anything. You need to take a deep breath and calm down, boy."

"Jasper…" Edward said, exasperated.

Jacob glared daggers at Jasper. "Did you just call me 'boy', you racist piece of crap?"

"Was I stuttering?" Jasper said, grinning.

Man, this asshole really was itching to fight someone, wasn't he?

"Cool it, Jake, he's doing it on purpose," Leah said, touching Jacob's arm. If her intrepid leader lost his composure now, this would all end in utter disaster.

"Oh, I suppose it's okay, then," Jacob shot back.

Before anyone could contribute any further soundbites to this bickering fest, they walked through the trees into the clearing: Sam, Quil, and Embry. They'd come by car, too, apparently, or they'd phased back into humans and gotten dressed way farther back.

Not that it mattered. Leah told herself to focus on the moment and not let her mind wander. Was she really this convinced of her impending doom that she couldn't even pay attention to the big picture anymore? Wow. Yeah, well, at least she'd die in sarcasm-mode. One had to be grateful for the little things.

Sam, who'd taken the lead, stomped in their direction with a scowl on his sharp-angled, handsome face, and his hands balled into fists. The two boys following him didn't look much friendlier. When Sam's eyes flitted over Leah, the scowl deepened a bit, which stung, but okay. There was nothing she could do about that. He probably felt betrayed about her leaving and trailing Seth behind her. He'd have a bit of a point, there, if this was really the case; she had to admit that.

His eyes focussed on Jacob. "Did you really think that we wouldn't find out? Did you really think that? Are you so deluded that you believed burying the remains of those poor dead people would be enough to keep us in the dark? We could smell that new-born's stink all the way from La Push. We know." Colour drained from his face, and he pressed his lips together, breathed hard, fought for composure. His entire body was trembling, and for a moment, Leah was sure that he would wolf out. He caught himself, though, thankfully, and remained human. "We can't let this one slide, Jacob. After everything we tolerated, this is the last straw. All the pain your vampire friends caused, all the loss and suffering…it stops here."

"Now hold on a second, Sam," Jacob said, hands raised, and meant to advance on the three wolves, but the hostile looks on their faces made him stop after two steps. "What happened with Bella was an accident. We-"

"An accident?" Quil said, and laughed bitterly. "Dude, four civilians were torn to pieces. That's not an accident. That's a murder spree. Get real!"

"We got it under control, now," Jasper said, being the quicker draw, which wasn't too hard, as Jacob was clearly lost for words. "There's no need for more people to pay the price. Think about it: you attack us, we defend ourselves. We die, you die. If you defeat us, our friends will find out, come here, and kill you all. When everybody's dead, will justice be served, then?"

Sam shot him the blackest look Leah had ever seen him sport. "You should've thought about that before you people killed Charlie Swan's daughter and allowed the monster that she became to eat four human beings."

"Sam, I'd be the last one to object, and you know that I agree with you," Leah made herself speak up. As all eyes were on her, adrenaline spiked through her blood, but she let nothing show. Her voice was firm and clear. "I have to agree with Jasper, though, too, as much as I hate it: who will profit from a war? No-one. There'll be nothing but more gratuitous death all around. None of us want that."

"We have Bella under control, now," Edward said. "She will never harm another human being."

"Even if that's true, which you can't guarantee, you broke the treaty one too many times," Sam said, not even looking at Edward, but facing Jacob. "I'm willing to grant you, your pack, and your imprint amnesty, Jacob. You can re-join my pack or just leave this place to never come back. The vampires though will all be dealt with the way we should've dealt with them when they killed Charlie's daughter."

"Charlie's daughter isn't dead," Jacob snapped. "She's very much alive, and my Nessie needs her."

Leah flinched at his choice of words and didn't even try to hide it.

"Charlie would beg to differ," Sam said, trembling slightly again. "I went to the funeral in Jacksonville. We all did. It sickened me to be a part of that farce, but I did it anyway out of respect for him, and because he needs to be kept away from all this madness. He still hasn't returned from his leave of absence. He's fucking heartbroken, Jacob! Do you even care? Huh? Do you?" He practically screamed this. His body shook so violently, Jacob retreated to Leah's side in a flash. Embry touched Sam's arm, though, and Sam managed to regain control over his fury. He spat on the earth. "You don't give a shit about Charlie. You don't give a shit about your pack, forcing Leah of all people to play watchdog to leeches. She's your responsibility, goddamn it, and you drag her into your messes, force her to do vampire bidding? Screw you for that!"

Leah couldn't find it in her heart to disagree, sadly, but she did have to object on one point: "I joined him voluntarily, you know."

Sam looked at her, and his expression was…pained. Regretful. Fond. God, it was almost too much for her to bear. "No, I forced your hand. It was my treatment of your sorrow that made you run. This one's one me."

"My actions are my own, Sam, I-"

"Even if, you never signed up for this. I know you, Leah. You hate vampires. You of all people know what damage they can cause purely by existing. You'd never help them if you had a choice," Sam said, and glared at Jacob again. "You drag Leah and little Seth into your bullshit, and you condemn them to die? What a great fucking leader you are, you clueless little boy!"

"You're trying to pick a fight," Jacob said, shaking his head in what could only be interpreted as disgust. "Don't do this, Sam. I don't want to fight you, but never mind Leah: if you force my hand, I will end you."

"You'll stand with them? Really?" Sam snorted dry, incredulous laughter, and motioned at Edward and Jasper with a quick jerk of his chin. "I give you a clean way out, you and your people, and you stand with them? You'd murder your brothers and sisters, you'd condemn Leah and Seth to die, and you'd do this for them? For these undead pieces of garbage? Are you out of your mind?"

"Hey, I resent that," Jasper cut in, smiling at Sam, ignoring his fury. "I may be undead, but garbage? Not so much. It takes an effort, looking good like this. Also, stop talking about your ex-girlfriend like her life's only determined by the menfolk. I don't think she likes that. Between you and me, I believe Miss Clearwater is a feminist."

Leah raised her eyebrows at him. Was this guy unable to take anything seriously anymore? Not that he didn't have a point, but still. He was having fun. He wanted a fight. She'd never seen him this good-natured before. He really was looking forward to some light-hearted carnage, wasn't he? Yup, that was what it looked like to Leah, at least. The mind boggled.

Edward gave him a significant look. "Really?"

"Shut up!" Sam made a face and focussed on Jacob again. "You can't be serious, Jacob. We are your people. They are our enemies. Do not choose them over us. I'm warning you."

"I'll do what I have to," Jacob returned, jaw set, shoulders tensed, fists clenched. "We won't attack you. If you choose to attack us, whatever blood gets spilled will be on your hands. It'll all be on you."

"We won't run, either," Edward said, looking at Sam as if the mere sight of him was sickening. "We won't let you chase us from our home."

"It was our home, first, this land," Sam said, calm and cold now, sparing Edward only the briefest of looks. "You have three days to change your mind, and if you won't stop defending these abominations, at least send Leah and Seth back where they belong. You can throw your life away for the sake of vampires, but don't make them do it."

"My mind won't change," Jacob said, glowering, "and if you get anywhere near Nessie, I will rip your fucking head off, do you understand me?"

"We won't touch your imprint, but the rest of you are fair game," Sam said, turned around, and started stomping away again, followed closely by Quil and Embry. "You have seventy-two hours, starting now. I suggest you use them to kick-start your brain. You seem to be needing it." With that, the three wolves disappeared behind the line of trees, leaving the Cullen party looking after them in stunned silence.

"So," Jasper said, after a while, and shrugged, "that went well."

"You didn't exactly help," Edward said, shaking his head. "What's wrong with you? Are you actually having fun? Do you want a war? This went badly, and that's a very awful thing."

"No kidding, genius," Jacob muttered, slapping his hands to his face.

"It went as expected," Leah said, crossed her arms, and started heading back toward the road. "Situation normal, all fucked up."

3 Travelling to a sunny, warm place was always a joy, but a vampire had to take precautions and keep from drawing too much human attention. Therefore, as Demetri flew from Seattle to Jacksonville (and kudos to the team of hackers and forgers who managed to concoct documentation for him that didn't betray his true origins or home), he took care not to expose any of his skin to the sunshine coming in through the aeroplane windows. It wasn't as hard as some liked to think – long sleeves, sunglasses, make-up, and that was it. It wasn't like he could sweat the foundation off. If the sunshine got really bright, he added a hat. During winter, a scarf pulled up almost to his nose and gloves did the trick. Yes, this could all fail, but seriously, seeing someone sparkle a little wasn't very impressive at all to humans. People might think that he was a douche, but that he was a supernatural creature? Not bloody likely.

Other things would surely give you away, though, such as moving too quickly, not blinking, not breathing, standing too still, getting so angry that the fangs popped out, returning to the same places to live there within the span of one or two generations and therefore risking people noticing that you weren't getting any older, staying out in the open in any place for too long. That was how a vampire gave him- or herself away, not by sparkling. Nobody cared about that. No, drawing attention by flaunting the sparkle wasn't smart by anyone's standards, but it wasn't what would bring the law on a wayward vampire's head – not by a long shot.

It was around twenty degrees Celsius in Jacksonville, and a little cloudy. Still, this was a thousand times sunnier than Seattle had been for the past three months, and Demetri was so, so glad of it. It made him homesick, too, but there was no time for this kind of gloomy rumination. No, there was no time for sadness, wistfulness, nostalgia, or anything even remotely emo.

The drive to Jacksonville's Oceanway neighbourhood was calm and relaxed. He found the cute, freshly painted white bungalow easily; there was even a parking space right in front of its driveway. Excellent! He checked his face in the rear-view mirror, found everything in order, got out of the car, slowly walked up the gravelly path to the front door, and knocked. Little later, the door was opened just a little, and a woman's face peered out.

"Yes?" The resemblance to Bella Swan was striking, even if this woman was conventionally prettier. She had the same brown hair, the same almond shape to her eyes (even though the woman's were blue where Bella's had been dark), the same plumper upper lip, the same hollow cheeks. She couldn't be forty, yet, and despite her tired and haggard appearance, he was pretty sure that usually, she didn't look it.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, ma'am. My name is Matt Darcy. I called Charles Swan about my fiancée, Irina Horváthová," he said, giving the woman – Renée Dwyer, that was her name – a pained little smile. "This was the address he gave me."

Renée's eyes went wide. She blanched. "Oh, of course. I'm sorry." She opened the door and stepped aside, motioning into the house. "Please, come in. Charlie's inside. He's, uh…he's my ex-husband."

"Oh. Well, thank you so much," he said, and followed the invitation. The house had been freshly painted from the inside, too, and the smell of it was pervasive and vaguely unpleasant, but it didn't really mask the alluring scent of living blood that the two humans present gave off. Luckily, he had not only fed the night before, but he also had learned to control himself pretty well over the many centuries of his life. "You have a lovely home, Misses…"

"Dwyer, but call me Renée," she said, gave him a very friendly, open smile, and led the way. "Follow me, please. Can I offer you anything? Water? Coffee? Something stronger?"

"No, thank you. You're very kind." He followed her whilst noticing his surroundings well. It really was a charming home – simple, sparsely furnished, but decorated with love. On the walls hung multiple framed pictures displaying many beloved family memories, most of them including Bella. He couldn't help but think of his own mother, who hadn't even had time to miss him after his death. She was long gone, now, dead and burned and vanished from this Earth.

The living room contained a big, red couch, two armchairs, a small table, a flat-screen TV, some bookshelves, and a fireplace at the corner. The walls were beige and, like the corridor, displayed a number of framed photographs. It was nice; the entire house had a good feel to it, like people who loved each other spent happy hours in these rooms.

On one of the armchairs sat a man, thin and tired and hunched over, pretending to watch some sitcom, but obviously not paying any attention to it at all. His short-ish hair was unkempt and greasy, his moustache a mess, his cheeks covered in dark stubble. His skin had a yellowish, sickly tinge to it.

"Charlie, this is the young man who called you, Matt," Renée said, trying and failing to sound cheerful. Demetri couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the poor young thing. "About Bella's friend Irina?"

Charlie Swan raised his head. His brown eyes were bloodshot. "Oh," he said, scrambled for the remote, turned the TV off, and made an effort to get to his feet. "Of course. Mister Darcy."

"Call me Matt, please," Demetri said, nodded at Renée, stepped up to Charlie, shook his hand, and took the offered seat on the couch. Renée sat down next to him.

"So…your fiancée got that fucked-up disease too, huh?" Charlie said, dropped himself on his armchair again, and grimaced. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Demetri said, smiling a little. "As for your question, yes: Irina was in Rio de Janeiro at the same time as your daughter, and they decided to meet up. She was supposed to fly back to London two days later. Well" – He ran his thin fingers through his hair and chuckled humourlessly – "you already know how that one turned out."

"Oh yeah," Charlie said, scratched his stubble, and squinted at Demetri. "On the phone, you said something about the Cullens, about how their story doesn't make sense. Care to elaborate?"

He'd actually made it all up on the fly, more or less. Finding out that Bella had disappeared had been easy, as had been phoning a number of her former classmates and stitching together a version of likely events. Then, he'd got a hold of the obituary, and the truth had to be this: the Cullens had turned Bella and fed her parents a sob story about a slowly killing disease that had claimed Bella's life little over three months ago. Placing all his bets on this one shot, Demetri had called Charlie and asked what he knew exactly about this disease, since his fiancée had caught the same thing and had vanished off the face of the Earth, as well.

Turned out the bet was well-placed.

"I called them when I couldn't reach Irina. Edward's father, Carlisle, confirmed to me that his son and his daughter-in-law had met up with Irina, and that Irina had contracted the same disease. He told me that both Irina and Isabella were in Switzerland in some clinic," Demetri said, shaking his head, looking down at his hands in his lap. Thank goodness he wasn't a clueless new-born anymore, or he'd never get the right amount of grief and frustration out. "I tried calling those people, but they'd never heard of Irina. I later tried the same thing at the CDC, in Atlanta. They told me that not only had they never heard of my fiancée, they don't even treat any patients at their headquarters, either." Sadly, he couldn't get his eyes to be bloodshot or teary, but one couldn't have everything. "I called the Cullen household again, but was lied to over and over. Their story is so full of holes, it's not even there, anymore."

"Good God," Renée whispered, sniffling. "Charlie, you were right."

Charlie's features crumpled in pain. He raised his fist to his lips, discreetly cleared his throat, and closed his eyes for a few seconds. "I might be a grieving father," he finally said, his voice trembling slightly, "but I'm not an idiot. Those people are hiding something. I can't reach my dying child for over a month, and then all I get is an urn of ashes that can't even get examined? Something's terribly wrong. Something awful happened, and the Cullens are lying about it. You just confirmed that."

"So what do we do now?" Renée said.

"I don't know what we can do," Charlie said, and sighed. "My head's so foggy; I have to be able to think straight first, before I can think strategy."

"I'll tell you what," Demetri said, locking eyes with him, "calling them isn't working, and trying to go confront them directly hasn't worked for me, at least."

"Me, neither. Every time I tried, they intercepted me long before I could get to the house itself. It's like those bastards have a sixth sense, or something," Charlie said, and scratched his neck. "I tried convincing Sue – that is Sue Clearwater, who lives in the Quileute reservation of La Push – to talk to them, but none of the La Push people will go anywhere near that place. It's all so weird."

"Well, I think they might change their mind if they find out that not just your daughter's mystery is something only the Cullen family can solve, but my fiancée's, too," Demetri said, smiling grimly at Charlie, then Renée. "I understand that one of Isabella's friends, a resident of La Push, got sick not so long ago, as well."

"Yes, Jacob Black, but…" Charlie scratched his neck and frowned. "He got better. You think that has something to do with what happened to Bella? You think it might've been the same thing? I mean, everyone was pretty tight-lipped about that, and the circumstances were strange. Do you think that there's an actual connection, or are we all just getting paranoid?" He chuckled awkwardly.

"I don't think you're paranoid at all," Demetri said, meaning it. "I tried doing some layman's research on the Cullens, and I couldn't find anything about them on the internet that was much older than a year. It's like they didn't even exist before moving to Forks."

"Same here, and I'm no layman," Charlie said, and snorted dry laughter. "I thought I was paranoid to want to investigate such pillars of our community, and when I didn't want to accept the news of Bella's…of what happened to Bella, I knew I needed to clear my head before I did anything else. Now I know that my gut feeling was correct: these people are suspicious. They're hiding something, and they're definitely lying about my daughter and your fiancée."

"It couldn't hurt to just go to La Push and confront Jacob's dad directly, before we do anything else," Renée said. Both men looked at her, and she shrugged. "If Edward's family is lying and the Blacks know something, we should definitely talk to them face to face before alerting the FBI or whatever."

"I agree," Demetri said, focussing on Charlie again. "All I want is to find out what happened to Irina. I'm sure you feel the same way about your little girl."

Charlie pressed his lips together, drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils, and nodded. "All right," he finally said. "I don't know how smart this is, but anything is better than sitting around doing nothing. We'll go to La Push, talk to Billy, find out what we can." He looked into Demetri's eyes, his expression even. "And God help the Cullens if they've hurt my daughter."

4 A few hours later, after giving Renée's husband the heads-up and making some basic preparations, the three of them drove to the airport. Yes, sure, involving humans was unfortunate, because they would probably have to die once they'd served their purpose, but there was no other way. It was regrettable, because Charlie and Renée seemed like decent people, but at least they would die for a good cause, if die they must.

It wasn't just something fishy that was going on with the Cullen coven. No, they'd done something bad, something big, something that would top the previous times they had broken the law. It was Demetri's duty to find out what was going on, to help Irina if she still could be helped (and she was sort of his responsibility, given the fact that she'd agreed to be his asset), and to see that justice was served.

Nothing else counted. It was a pity that these humans would probably have to pay the ultimate price, but sometimes, collateral damage could not be avoided. He would find out what was going on, and when he did, he would take out that threat to his family without mercy. It was the law. It was the right thing to do. It was what he wanted.