Something about this family stinks.
Indeed. That was what I thought when I asked Angela a further question and she replied it.
"You said Bree was bleeding. Just how hurt was she?"
"You don't wanna know. Trust me. It was nasty as Hell."
"Please, not you, too. It's enough Edward keeps things from me. I'm a big girl, I can take it."
"First tell me you're sitting."
"Angie..." I counted to ten.
"Are you?"
"Yeah, I'm sitting."
"Okay. One hand broken, the other nearly torn out of the shoulder socket, bruises and scratches everywhere... but you know, when I looked at her, the first thing I saw was she was bleeding from her neck and..." Angie exhaled, "and there was a wound on her left breast, you know, like claw marks from some big animal. Like, imagine, her jacket, hoodie, T-shirt, bra, all ripped open, pieces of skin ripped off, bits of flesh ripped off. And blood absolutely everywhere. It was horrible, Bella. It was just sick. Strong as that psycho was, I still can't believe those stones scared her off. But they did, thanks God. That was pure luck. If they didn't, I guess we both could have been history."
I imagined it – and strangely, the first thought that came to me was that Bree had to be really incredibly lonely and desperate, plus totally crazy in love to go to Edward with her blackmail after something as insane as this. The second was that I'll throttle him.
"Bella, you there?"
"Yeah," I slid my hand over my face and breathed in and out. "Just kinda...trying to process it all."
"Yep. Took me a while, too."
"You know what was lucky?" I muttered. "That she had you there with her. That you didn't lose your head."
I stared outside at the neat gravel driveway leading up to a long alley of enormous oaks. At the end of it, far away, a black, sleek limousine was slowly entering the chateau grounds.
"What are you gonna do now?"
"No idea," I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Talk it through with him, see how he reacts. Or... just kill him, might be quicker and easier."
"I know couple of places where we could bury the body and no one would find it," I heard the smirk in her voice. "Well, whatever you decide to do, promise me you won't be alone with his mum, ever."
"Tough to do," I snorted, shaking my head. "Since I already promised Edward I'd help him take care about her."
"You didn't."
"I did, yep, because he somehow didn't see fit to inform me his mum goes around tearing arms off underage girls, not even mentioning their breasts," I rolled my eyes, shaking my head and rubbing my forehead with my fingers.
"Yeah, I wonder why. I guess he didn't think it would make him the most attractive option around."
I forced myself to focus on the gardens in full bloom, peony bushes and wisteria alleyway leading off to the left. "Sorry. Give me a moment, Angie. I'm flaming mad."
"Cool down, you'll get a heart attack."
"Ouch!" I laughed, finally relaxing, and sank into the cushions. "Angie, that was a low blow!"
She chuckled. "Anything to make you feel better, sweetie."
I scratched my forehead and propped my head up on my hand. "You know what I'm thinking?"
"No?"
"It sounds kind of sexual, this attack. You never thought what if...?"
"Yeah. Often these days. At first I was so fixated on Edward's guilt I didn't think about the bigger picture. But now... you know. So I asked Deputy Cheney yesterday when he came to us for a dinner. He's a really nice guy, you know. I think when we've got something, we should go to him. He said it was really unlikely it was a woman, because of some trace of DNA they found. It didn't lead them anywhere, but it was that of a guy."
"Did you tell him about the attack?"
"No. No need now, is there? It won't help Bree now. But you, you're alive and I'd really prefer to see you alive and well as I give my valedictorian speech. And then on. So don't stay alone with Mrs. Cullen, ever, can you promise me that?"
"I'll try my best. But you promise me to be careful when you're with them, too, okay? I'm starting to get worried about you, too."
She didn't say anything for a moment. "You know... I took a picture of Bree that day with my phone. Just in case, if it was somehow needed. Wanna see it?"
"Yeah," I told her firmly. "I want to know. I want to know just how bad it is."
Bad wasn't the right word. It was ghastly. Every bit as gruesome as Angie described it, if not more. Bree seemed out of her mind with fear, face swollen, bloodied, her mouth torn, gashes everywhere. A chunk of flesh was bitten out of her neck, as if after a savage dog bite, exposing raw and bloody tissue underneath. The same with her breast, only it was worse. It was nearly ripped apart. The claw marks were deep, it was incredible to me normal human nails could do this, it looked more like something a bear would do, or a shark with its teeth. Like she was trying to get to Bree's heart.
"Did she have a surgery after this?"
"Yeah. They had to reconstruct that breast, do something with that wound on her neck. She had to stay there for like two weeks. All the while I kept persuading her just to go to the Police with it, but she just kept saying: 'No, I just wanna go home and forget it. I wanna forget all of it.' I mean, your dad came anyway, but he closed that case pretty quickly, the perpetrator unknown. She just didn't give him any clues. I tried, but all I could remember was it was a white woman with crazy long dark hair."
"But you're absolutely sure it was Mrs. Cullen?"
"Positive. There aren't that many women with floor-length hair around Forks."
When Angela hung up, I hugged the pillow tight and buried my face in it. I remembered a park we used to go to with mum when we lived in Wolverhampton briefly; there grew one particularly large sakura tree, heavy with blossoms that were scattering around as breeze touched them. A beggarwoman would come to it often, raving about the mercy of God and the flames of Hell all sinners will burn in.
What was Mrs. Cullen?
A loving mother, rich for having an adoring child and husband and for having wealth, a beggar for being a powerless, raving madwoman, or a monster without restraint or compassion, a monster who nearly murdered a young defenceless girl? And if it was the last option and Edward knew about it, which more likely than not he did, where did he found love and respect for someone like that? Why was he shielding her?
I realized one thing though: if I leave Edward to face all those issues and all that madness in his family alone, he's lost, either he'll do something stupid and end up in jail, or he will do himself in. Alone he doesn't stand a chance.
But if this is to work, we need to renegotiate terms. Objectively speaking, it was not Edward's fault that his mother was violent and dangerous. I could also understand to a big degree this was not something you bring up casually on a date. But we were talking living together, even marriage maybe here. If there were any more secrets, and it was probable there were, I needed to know them. And lying to me when I asked him about Bree's blackmail definitely wasn't cool.

Peacocks, blue, Java green and white, walked across the driveway, trailing their plumes behind, and yet others flew over. In the distance, several of them were calling, hidden somewhere amidst trees, blooms, lakes, streams and water jets. Earthly Paradise. An image of peace, a forenoon of flowers, blue and gold. The sunrays touched my cheeks like a caress. Closing my eyes, I drank it in, wishing I had the strength to walk on my own. Just a couple of steps. Towards the window. To open it to feel the vigorous spring's scent - freshness and an aura of hope.
Health. Just to have health, God. How much more things would be possible if I had it? How many paths would open, how many horizons?
The limousine was pulling in and the aloof, regal figure of Vladimir emerged from it as the driver opened the door for him. What secrets did this one hide?
On the Cullens' side, there was violence, attempt at murder and insanity.
What did he hide?
He gazed at me then.
Motionless, we stared each other in the eyes across the distance, as if taking measure of one another.
Strange eyes. Powerful. That kind of gaze that is difficult to hold for long. And at the same, difficult to break away from. I would not. If he was reading me, I could try to read him, too. Two could play this game.
In the end he smiled a little, a peculiarly wistful smile, and bowed his head to me, as before. I did the same.
Oddly, I felt immense grief of a sudden, grief over something lost and never found again; then I remembered. I've met him before.
It was in that period after great-grandpa's death of which I have but little memories. I did my best to obliterate them.
That day, some two months after the funeral, school ended early because of a prank bomb call; I attended a school in London then. In mum's intermittent wandering around, we had landed in London at last. For a while. I had no illusions we would hit the road again soon. I was so used to it it felt almost natural.
It was raining hard and I roamed around at the Highgate Cemetery, stopping by some grave here and there to read the inscription, hands dug into my armpits, hugging myself tight, blown about from place to place like a fallen leaf, dry and fragile. Tears, mingling with the rain. I wanted to die. That was all I wanted those days. But there was mum and I couldn't.
One must live, one must love, as Tolstoy wrote. The stock of people to love was growing increasingly thinner. In fact, there was only mum left. And dad, far away in America, dad with whom I haven't spoken for real for some eight or nine years. That line tying me to life felt brittle and precarious, like it has been half-bitten away by rats.
I found myself in front of one grave; I forgot what the name of the family it belonged to was. I can recall it was covered all over in half-rotten leaves, bombarded by sleet, and overgrown with ivy. It was its similarity to great-grandpa's grave that drew me to it.
A family plagued by consumption and weak health; destroyed to its last member, one by one, until there was no one left to take care about it.
I shuddered.
Who, great-grandpa, will take care about your grave when I am gone, too?
"Excuse me, please, Miss," a dark, velvety baritone spoke behind me.
I turned around, facing an elegant man in black with white hair and blinding blue eyes. He towered over me and he was offering me an umbrella.
I took it without looking away and nodded to him a tad. "Thanks," I murmured, numb, feeling as if torn out of reality.
He bowed his head to me and then gave me a brief, serious smile. And with that he went away, upright, aristocratic, away in his expensive suit and coat and shoes that were all drenching. I watched him until he took a turn and tall crypts and trees hid him from my sight.
Strange. I think I still have that umbrella somewhere.
Meanwhile, in the present, he went inside the chateau; I shuddered and drew the pillow closer, reliving the cold of that day.

Edward returned, not looking at me, and went straight to the piano, putting a thermo mug down on the floor by his chair. I hesitated whether it was a good idea to ask him now, with the mood he was in. Most probably not. Okay, later.
"How is she? Any news?"
He didn't reply, as if lost in playing.
"Edward, honey? Is your mum any better?"
He slammed the keys with his fingers, swung around on the swivel chair and barked with a death glare: "What?"
That was like a cold shower. I stared at him at first in disbelief. Are you serious?
Then I crossed my arms on my chest. Alright, as you wish. Damn being Miss Considerate. "Why didn't you tell me Vladimir was there too at the hospital?"
He stiffened and frowned at me. "So, you remember him?" he turned back to his playing.
I rolled my eyes. "Quite obviously. Since I ask."
"Need to know," he said eventually with reluctance, drinking up from his thermo mug. "We were just beginning, you and me. And you were sick. I didn't want you to slip up and tell my father dearest Vladimir was there, too."
I frowned at him. "Why?"
He wavered a while, staring at the keynotes in grimness as he was strumming some jazz song.
"Edward?"
He rolled his eyes and stopped playing with a sigh, turning to me. "Because we had enough of troubles as it was and I was already up to my neck in arguments with father. I really didn't need to add to that arguments about Vladimir and how he's a persona non grata. I'm this close to murdering Dr. Cullen as it is."
I let out a deep breath and scratched my forehead. "Alright. So one thing at a time – why does your dad have problems with Vladimir?"
He shook his head in exasperation, rolled his eyes again and lit up a cigarette. He dragged on it, as if collecting his thoughts, and when he let the smoke out, he said: "Politics. Family allegiances."
When he didn't elaborate on that, I prompted him in impatience: "Yeah? And...?"
He shook his head.
"Oh right, need to know again, right?" I was getting really annoyed.
"Exactly."
"Just – brilliant," I threw my hand up and shook my head, shifting in my seat. "Anything else you think I don't need to know? If it's just you're not comfortable talking about it, fine, but you know what, it looks rather like you're holding something back. And that it's pretty nasty and big."
He scoffed, rolled his eyes and hung onto his cigarette, averting his face. "You're tired. We'll talk about it later, okay, once you're not hysterical."
I couldn't believe my ears. "Excuse me?!"
He put the cigarette away and resumed playing.
"Edward!"
He ignored me.
I put my hands on my hips, frowning. "Well if you think you'll evade me like that, you're dead wrong. Why didn't you tell me the truth about Bree? That your mum attacked her in the woods? Why did you feed me the story about a video?"
He stiffened and he turned to me. "I didn't feed you any story," he said slowly, angry. "If you want, I can show you the video here and now."
"Fine, then why did you omit that part about your mum mauling Bree over? Bree blackmailed you with that actually, didn't she?"
"And what if she did?" he snapped. "What does it matter? You still have that crazy idea that I killed her, or what?"
I counted to ten to calm down. "No, but for Heaven's sake, if your mum goes around attacking girls, if she's aggressive, don't you think that's a detail I should know? That it's kinda part of that fine print I should read before saying yes or no to marrying you?"
"She's not dangerous, Bella, do you hear me?"
"She attacked Bree-"
"She's not dangerous!" he slammed the piano with his fists, swinging his head towards me, frowning like a demon. He made rapid, furious steps towards me, fists clenched. "You wouldn't dream of supporting anyone who would try to lock your mother up in a madhouse, would you? You wouldn't tell them, oh great, I'm so glad you've come, she's right there in her bed, would you?"
"My mum never attacked anyone in her life, much less a girl and a minor!" I put my hands on my hips, jutting my chin out and frowning at him. I was afraid, but I would not budge. "Look, I want to help you with her. I really do. It just breaks my heart when I see you all in pieces like before. But Jesus, your mum injures a girl so badly she has to go to get a surgery and stay in hospital for two weeks? Don't you think that's gonna be too much for just the two of us to handle?"
He took a deep breath and shook his head, throwing his hand up and raking the other through his hair. "You know what? Like, whatever." He took a couple of further deep breaths and sat down on his chair. "Sorry, you're right. I should have told you. With my mum I can see...yeah, that's something I really should have told you. But so Vladimir was there at the hospital too and I didn't tell you about it, big deal. Why's that even important?"
"Because you sit on information like Smaug on his pile of treasure?" I smirked and propped my head up on my hand. "And because you spout out fire and bite when I want you to part with at least a couple of coins?"
"My wallet's your wallet, buy whatever you want," he said dryly and I chuckled, leaning in to him with a wink.
"I'll go with a team of private detectives to find it out then, thank you very much."
"Look, Bella, do you think I'm happy about all those secrets? I'm as fed up with them as can be. But, fine, whatever – so let's say, hypothetically, it is nasty and big. So nasty in fact it might just not be safe for you to know it yet? So nasty it might just get you killed if you knew – and not only you?"
"Jesus Christ." I fell back on the backrest and stared at him for a moment, sorting it out in my head. I remembered the little girl. Don't tell anyone about me. Would it get her killed, too, if I did? "Well, this really is a day of surprises," I exhaled and rubbed my forehead. "So it's that bad?"
"Hypothetically. Just perhaps."
"So... why is Garrett fine for your dad to know about?"
Edward shrugged. "Father has no problem with Garrett. They're cousins-in-law and all chummy."
"And yet between his father and yours there's something so ugly it could get me killed, maybe you too, if I knew about it."
After a while, he muttered under his breath: "Yeah. That about sums it up."
A mother who tries to murder a young girl. Secrets that could kill. A family that more and more starts to sound like it is actually some weird kind of a mafia clan. I took a deep breath, raked my hands through my hair and exhaled. "Alright. Alright, just tell me who are the goodies and the baddies here. I'm getting lost."
"And you will trust me?"
"Yeah," I said in the end. "So far it has always paid off."
"Very well, now listen to me and remember it, okay?" he leant forward to me, dead serious. "You can always trust Vladimir, Garrett and Stefan. If they are the goodies or the baddies, well I don't know, that depends on the point of view. But they will never, never ever leave you if you are in trouble. And they take family loyalty very seriously by default, especially Vladimir and Stefan. With Garrett, you got to earn it – but once you have it, you have it forever. He really, and all of them, is that kind of friend you want to have in your hour of dire need."
"So... does your father know we're here?"
He shrugged, his eyes turning hard, and lit up another cigarette. "I have decided now. And like you said, I'm eighteen now. So he can go to Hell for all I care."
"Somehow I don't like the sound of that 'I have decided'."
"Neither do I," he murmured. "But when the choice is between a rock and a hard place, I'm choosing the rock. At least it's a kinda solid foundation to build on."

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AN: Big thanks to all who reviewed, followed and favourited this fic, as always. How did you like this chapter? Let me know in the reviews:-)