Hello! It's been a little while, hasn't it? I've been pecking away at this one for a few months as a bit of a mental health break from Double or Despair, which I'm planning on returning to now that this is done. There is one more chapter in this little saga that I want to write, but I'm still thinking about what it looks like and I do want to get back to my main plot for a bit, so I appreciate your patience and hope I've left this chapter on a satisfying note to tide you over until the final installment.
Drop a review letting me know what you think, I love reading your responses and I reply to as many as I can. And if you haven't already, go give Double or Nothing a try and check out the first few chapters of Double or Despair.
Enjoy!
Glitterb xx
Chapter 4: The Admission
Beau's POV
I'd thought nothing could make me more nervous than the prospect of a dance with Edythe.
I was wrong.
Between her accepting my invitation on Wednesday morning and the end of the day on Friday, I was in a near constant spiral of anxious anticipation. I'd gone over Jules' story a thousand times in my head, trying and failing to make it make sense to me. Yet I was no closer to any kind of conclusion about whether I believed it than I had been on Saturday night.
Not seeing Edythe for those first two days had just made it even worse; I'd practiced what I wanted to say to her, but I'd had no idea when I would actually get to speak to her, and the tension was bordering on torture. Not to mention that I couldn't try to observe her the way I'd wanted to, hoping to get more proof for the vampire theory. Even after I had successfully made my invitation – and she'd accepted – it only meant starting over with the conversations I was planning and rehearsing constantly in my head. I couldn't decide if I wanted to run into her more between Wednesday and Friday or not, because I was so focused on what could happen on our date that I wasn't sure I had any brain space left to respond if she tried to talk to me sooner.
As it happened, we didn't cross paths with each other for more than brief seconds, but I did have an odd, nagging sense that those run-ins were more frequent than usual. And every time she saw me, she smiled and waved brightly; each time we passed close enough to talk, she said, "Hello, Beau," to which I barely spluttered out a shaky, "Hi," before she was gone.
But at last, my last class of Friday was over, and I stood on the kerb outside school, my attention torn between watching for my dad's cruiser and keeping an eye out in the crowd of students for Edythe. We'd never agreed on exactly where to meet, so I'd chosen a spot that I hoped would be obvious and I was ready to look as dumb as I needed to with waving and shouting to get her attention. When I did finally see her, I even got as far as raising my arm before I looked more closely and saw something that made me pause.
She was standing by the corner of the nearest building, still a good thirty feet from me, locked in what I could see even from this distance was a heated argument with her brother Edward. Angry wasn't a mood I had ever seen Edythe in, and it was a little disconcerting how much every fibre of my being rebelled against seeing it. Not out of fear or anything like that; even enraged, she was beautiful. I just never wanted her to feel those kinds of negative emotions; Edythe should only smile and be happy.
Their obvious conflict also set off an odd protective instinct in me. I felt a frown crease my forehead as I watched Edward looming menacingly over her, and tried to work out how I could intervene without getting caught up in it – his sister might not scare me, but Edward certainly did. The phrase 'if looks could kill' felt like it might be a bit more literal where he was concerned. Especially if Bonnie's stories were right.
But of course, I wasn't needed. Edythe poked her brother in the chest and spat a last angry word at him before turning on her heel and walking away, her hair flying out behind her and almost hitting him in the face. He reached out to grab her arm, but she seemed to expect this and blocked him neatly with her hand before speeding up her determined march. I was half afraid he would chase her down; instead, he just stood and watched her go, the look on his face slipping into something strangely worried. The next second, his eyes were on me, and the glare returned as he caught me staring at him. I made a conscious effort to smooth out my expression and not let him see how affected I was by his attitude.
"Hey, Beau!" Edythe called, pulling my attention to her. She was only a few feet from me now, dancing across the sidewalk and smiling, no trace of the conflict with her brother on her face. I couldn't help smiling back.
"Hi, Edythe. How was your day?"
"Too long," she groaned. "All I could think about was tonight, I probably didn't learn anything."
"Me too." That was something; perhaps she was as nervous about tonight as I was. It made me feel a little better, as did her hand sliding into mine as if it were the natural place for it to be. That electric current ran up my arm again, and I embraced it, letting the thrill chase away any thought of Edward.
"Are we ready to go?" Edythe asked, her soft smile never wavering.
"I am," I replied, scanning the cars coming into the lot. "Dad should be here any minute."
Sure enough, as I finished speaking, I saw the cruiser turn in off the highway, its lights making it stand out from the other cars even when they weren't on.
"There he is," I said, pointing to the car and leading her towards the place my dad usually picked me up from. Dad waved as he pulled in and came to a stop. I went to open the passenger side door, then paused at the last moment; as I'd worried before the dance, a police car was hardly the best vehicle for a date night, mainly because at least one of us would be stuck behind a metal security grill.
I looked back at Edythe, hoping she would see the apology on my face. "Do you want to sit up front? I don't mind being in the back."
"If you're going in the back, I will too." Her smile took on a mischievous air. "Can't have you sitting behind bars on your own."
I couldn't help grinning back at her and opened the back door instead, nodding for her to get in first. She never let go of my hand, scooting across the seat and pulling me in after her.
"Hey, kids," Charlie greeted us cheerfully as I shut the door again and fastened my seatbelt. "Good day?"
"Yes, thank you," Edythe replied. "How was your day, Chief Swan?"
"Ah, same old, same old." He waved a hand dismissively as he began manoeuvring out of the parking lot and back onto the road. "And I thought I told you to call me Charlie."
"Of course, Charlie, my apologies." She smiled at me, her golden eyes twinkling as she squeezed my hand.
"So, we're heading straight for Port Angeles?" Dad asked.
"Yeah." I nodded. "If we don't get stuck in any traffic, there's a 4:45 screening at the movie theatre that we should just about catch."
"You got it, kiddo." He focused on finding a gap to turn back onto the highway; once we were heading north out of town, he resumed his questions. "Movie then dinner, that the plan?"
"I believe so," Edythe replied, raising one perfect eyebrow at me.
I nodded. "Yep, that's what I was thinking. Are you okay to come pick us up, Dad? I know it's a long drive just to play taxi."
Charlie shook his head. "Don't you worry, Beau, I said I'd drive you and that means both ways. What time do you want me to come back?"
"Um…" That threw me. The movie would be about two hours, then dinner would take… I couldn't be sure, not knowing how busy the restaurant would be. I hadn't actually thought to make a reservation, figuring it wouldn't be too bad in the off season, but if they were slammed, we might end up waiting. And then we needed to find time to talk, either before or after dinner…
Edythe must have seen the panic in my eyes and quickly saved me. "I have an eleven o'clock curfew on the weekends, so the latest we could leave would be ten. Shall we say nine just to be safe?"
"Fine by me," my dad agreed easily. "Gives me a few hours of recovery time." He chuckled at his own bad joke. "Nine alright with you, son?"
"Sure." That gave us about four hours all told, two for the movie and two to eat and talk. That should be plenty.
Assuming that I could build up the courage to ask my questions. Or that she wouldn't call me crazy and leave when I did.
Charlie started asking about Edythe's family and she answered each question smoothly and without hesitation. Meanwhile, my mind was running a mile a minute, trying desperately to plan out how our conversation would go.
I couldn't start it during the movie, and we wouldn't have time before. So it had to be after that, but where? Could I do it over dinner? Would it be better done in public, where she might be forced to contain her reactions, or in private where we couldn't be overheard?
And that was just the timing. Once I had that settled, there would be the small matter of wording. How exactly was I going to do it? I couldn't very well come out and say, 'Hey Edythe, are you and your family vampires?' If I was wrong, she'd probably laugh at me. And if I was right…
That was still the biggest question – what if I was right? What would Edythe do once I knew her secret? And what did it mean for me, for us, for this fragile thing that was growing between us? I looked down at our hands, still folded together on the seat between us.
If I was right, did I still want this?
All the internal debates kept me completely distracted for the entire drive; it felt like I blinked, and we were pulling up outside the movie theatre.
"Alright then," my dad said, turning slightly to flash one of his small, hidden smiles. "You kids have fun, and I'll see you at nine. Which restaurant was it you were planning to go to, Beau?"
"Bella Italia," I replied reflexively.
"I have my cell phone," Edythe chimed in. "So we can let you know if the plan changes."
"Sure, sure," Charlie agreed, then his expression slipped into a frown. "Should probably look at getting you one of those things, huh, Beau?"
I shrugged, discomfort bubbling in my gut; I might not be quite as involved in the organisation of the family finances as my sister was, but I knew very well that any new extra expenditures had to be very carefully balanced. "I'm fine without one, Dad. We've always managed before."
"Still, you're growing up, and even a Luddite like me can admit those things are useful." My dad's face was decided. "I'll look into it. Now, off you go and enjoy yourselves."
"Thank you, Charlie," Edythe said sweetly, unclipped her seat belt and sliding across towards me.
I quickly unfastened my own belt, patting my pocket to check I had my wallet as I opened the door. "I'm leaving my bag back here, Dad."
"I'll throw it in your room. You want to leave your stuff in the car too, Edythe?"
"No, I'll manage, thank you." Her push on my side was gentle, but it's meaning was obvious – time to ditch the parent.
"Alright, see you later," I said in a rush, hurriedly clambering out of the car with Edythe right behind me. I knew the abruptness of our exit hadn't been in the least bit subtle; out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charlie grin and shake his head indulgently before finally driving away.
"Free at last," I joked. It wasn't that funny, but Edythe laughed and it didn't feel like she was faking it.
"And what shall we do with our newfound liberation?" she asked, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.
"Exactly what we said we're going to do, probably." I shrugged. "Unless there's something else you had in mind."
She shook her head. "No, I like our plan. Shall we?" She gestured with her free hand to the movie theatre in front of us, and I nodded, leading the way inside.
Somewhere in my abstraction, I had registered that I'd been holding Edythe's hand for upwards of an hour now. It still felt something like a miracle that I was even allowed to touch her; I was sure she would pull away at any moment, but she never did. She didn't even seem to feel the need to adjust her grip, and when I gave her hand an experimental squeeze, she squeezed right back and smiled up at me, a bright, happy sparkle in her golden eyes.
"So, what shall we see?" I asked, mostly to distract myself from the crazy way my heart was fluttering from just her smile. I scanned the board of movies and times – a limited selection, given the size of the theatre. "Looks like we've got romance, action or horror."
"Well, we're too young to get into the horror, since it's R-rated," Edythe pointed out. "And really, would it be a date if we didn't go to a romantic movie?"
"The only logical choice," I agreed as we joined the short line at the counter.
I ordered our tickets, two drinks and a bucket of popcorn for us to share, but before I could even reach for my pocket, she had already handed over a wad of bills to the cashier.
"Hey!" I protested.
"What?" she asked; she made a good show of being confused as she tucked her wallet back into the large tote she apparently used as a school bag, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes that told me she knew exactly what she was doing.
I narrowed my eyes at her. "I invited you on this date, remember? Aren't I supposed to handle all the money?"
"You paid for the dance, which I invited you to," she pointed out sagely. "It's my turn. And besides, I really don't have any concern for how things are 'supposed' to be done, if I'm being completely honest. I'm sure I've already made that more than clear."
I considered trying to argue, but the guy behind the counter had already put her money in the register and turned away to get our food. It would be too much of a pain to get it back, and in the grand scheme of things, I knew it didn't matter. Certainly not when compared with the conversation we would have to have later.
"Fine," I conceded. "But I'm getting dinner. If we're going to get technical, my dad paid for the dance."
"We'll see." There was that playful look again, the hint of a plan already in motion.
Edythe had let go of my hand in order to deal with the money and couldn't take it back as we balanced the tickets and our snacks, and I couldn't help feeling bereft; I'd been getting rather used to the contact, even though her skin was just as cold as it had been the night of the dance.
We made our way down the hall to our screen, which had hardly anyone in it, probably because it was still relatively early on a Friday evening. There were a few more couples scattered about, and one group of older ladies who were down near the front, happily chattering away since the lights hadn't gone down yet.
"So," Edythe said, giving me a sideways smirk. "Are we claiming the darkest corner we can find, or do you prefer to be front and centre at the movies?"
I knew she was teasing me, but her implication was more than clear, and my heart went crazy. Something of what I was feeling must have shown on my face and must have been exactly the reaction she was looking for, because she laughed lightly and started leading me forward. At first I panicked, because she seemed to be heading for the back of the room, but she chose the third row from the back and settled in a seat about halfway down so we had a good central view of the screen but we were a decent distance away from everyone else. Before I could get too worked up in thinking about what I would say next, the lights dimmed and the trailers started running, making conversation much more difficult.
The movie followed the typical romance formula – high powered city businesswoman must spend time in the country for some contrived reason, struggles to adapt but eventually falls in love with small town living and the humble, unambitious country boy who shows her how wonderful it can be. It didn't take a lot of my focus to keep up with the plot. Which was good, because most of my attention was being monopolised by the electricity once more crackling between me and Edythe. It seemed to be heightened by the darkness, making itself known even without us touching. I was hyper-aware of her presence beside me; when she reached over and took my hand, I wasn't sure if it was better or worse. I chanced a glance sideways at her and found a soft, knowing smile on her face – she felt it too.
The mindless movie would have been the perfect time to try to figure out my game plan going forward, but I was far too distracted to get much beyond hoping I would find a convenient opening in a conversation somehow. I munched popcorn to cover my nerves, and though I offered the bucket to Edythe a few times, she always shook her head and I was fairly sure I'd eaten the whole thing by myself.
When the lights finally came up, I had to blink a few times before my eyes would focus properly.
"Well, that was interesting," Edythe mused in a tone that made it very clear she didn't mean the movie.
I just hummed, not really sure what else there was to say. Besides, she was still holding my hand, which always made forming sentences more difficult.
"Ready for dinner?" Edythe asked as we left the theatre.
I cringed. "Actually, I'm not really hungry yet. I think I filled up on popcorn, sorry."
She smiled that soft smile that always made me melt. "That's okay, I'm not hungry either. And please, stop apologising. It really isn't necessary." She tilted her head to the side. "How about we take a walk down the pier? I hear it's lovely at this time of year."
"Alright," I agreed easily. I'd go anywhere she wanted to go, no questions asked.
We walked down towards the water in silence at first. It wasn't quite the peak of the tourist season, so there weren't many other people around; most of those we passed seemed to be locals just out enjoying their Friday night.
"I'm really glad you asked me to come out with you tonight," Edythe commented as we reached the entrance to the pier and began making our way along the wooden walkway.
"Yeah?" I couldn't help smiling.
She nodded. "Don't look so surprised, Beau. You know I want to spend more time with you. Honestly, I'm a little disappointed that it took you so long."
Guilt abruptly twisted my stomach, and I pinched my lips together to hold in the apology that wanted to fall from them. I tried to turn away so she wouldn't see, but it didn't work.
"What's that face for?" she asked in a playful tone with just the slightest edge of anxiety. "I'm not really angry, Beau, don't worry."
I shook my head. "It's nothing, I'm fine."
We'd reached the lookout tower at the end of the pier; there were a few benches around the base, and she pulled me over to sit at one of them, a curious look on her face.
"I don't believe you," she said, somehow managing to make the blunt statement sound gentle and concerned.
I pursed my lips and twisted my mouth to the side, trying to decide how much to tell her. Then I made the mistake of looking deep into her golden eyes, and it was like I'd been injected with some kind of truth serum.
"I was trying not to apologise," I admitted. "You know, since you don't like it."
Her expression shifted through understanding to amused, then on to a dramatically put-upon look. "Oh alright, I suppose I can let you have one more."
"Nope, I'm good." I was pleased by how unaffected I sounded.
She just arched one immaculate eyebrow at me.
Leaning into the playful mood she was obviously trying to foster, I made a show of keeping my lips curled in, acting like I was wrestling with something that wanted to burst free, before finally blurting out, "Sorry!" with an extra dramatic lurch forward and a few panted breaths.
It had exactly the effect I'd hoped for; she started laughing that beautiful, wind chime laugh that I loved so much, and I couldn't help joining in.
Once we'd both calmed down, her smile shrank rapidly and there was something worried in her eyes and her voice as she spoke. "So, may I ask why you waited so long? Was it something I did?"
"No!" I said, probably a bit too quickly. "No, no, no, you didn't do anything. I just…" I had to stop and take a deep breath, debating what I would say for about two seconds before I went with the truth. "Well, you're… you. You're just so incredible, and it's kind of intimidating for a regular guy like me."
Edythe gave me a look that was disapproving yet somehow still gentle. "I don't think you're just a regular guy, Beau. In fact, I find you anything but ordinary."
I felt myself turning pink and cursed my traitorous circulatory system until she reached out and delicately ran the pad of her index finger across my cheekbone.
"Lovely," she murmured, barely loud enough for me to hear.
My heart was hammering and I couldn't breathe for a moment. When I had enough air to speak, I said, "See? That's what you do to me. I can barely think when I'm talking to you. I had to rehearse for about two days before I talked to you on Wednesday, and I've spent most of the last two days thinking about what I'm going to say to you today. Besides, there's your brothers and sisters too."
"What about them?" Her voice had hardened, just slightly, enough to make me wary as I went on.
"I don't think they like me very much." I made a face. "Edward definitely doesn't."
"They don't know you," Edythe argued, her tone soft and gentle again; I had the sudden sense that the flash of irritation in her eyes wasn't for me. "And Edward doesn't like anybody. He only puts up with the rest of us because we're family."
"But it just seems like he really hates me," I insisted. We were getting into territory that I could maybe use to ask my questions, but it was going to have to be delicately handled. "I mean, I don't need everyone to like me, but it's hard to understand someone hating me like that for no reason."
Edythe shrugged, and even the slumping of her shoulders was graceful. "Some people are just like that. It isn't anything personal, I assure you. I believe he's simply being protective of me, but you're the first boy I've ever shown an interest in, and he doesn't know how to handle it."
"That makes sense," I said, nodding slowly. "People can do some crazy things to protect the people they love, huh?"
"Indeed." The look in her eyes now was intense, and I didn't know quite how to respond to it. In the next second, it had disappeared, and she was blasé as she continued. "Regardless, please don't let my siblings' attitudes bother you. I, for one, am ignoring them as much as physically possible." She tilted her head to the side quizzically. "How does your family feel about us?"
Doing my best to ignore the thrill that went through me at the thought of there being an us, I rubbed the back of my neck self-consciously. "Well, according to my sister, Mom is freaking out about me growing up too fast…" I rolled my eyes, and Edythe giggled. "Bella can't believe a girl would actually talk to me, let alone agree to a date. And Dad is really supportive. He likes you a lot, called you 'a polite, well-behaved young lady.'"
Edythe grinned. "He said that to you?"
"Nah, he was talking to one of his friends. I was just eavesdropping." Did I dare say which friend? Could this be my way in?
My nervousness obviously showed on my face as I dithered; Edythe squeezed my hand and looked curious again. "Which friend was it? Maybe I know them."
"It was, um… Bonnie Black," I stuttered, shifting in my seat uncomfortably. "I don't think you guys have met. She doesn't get out as much since she started having to use a wheelchair… and she's Quileute."
The last part wasn't something I would typically have mentioned when describing Bonnie – or anyone, for that matter – but I knew that in this conversation, it was definitely important. After all, it was the crux of the issue, the thing that had made me start looking into the secrets surrounding the Cullens.
The shift was very small, but I saw Edythe's shoulders tighten just a fraction of an inch.
"I know the name," she said, her voice hardening infinitesimally. "But no, I've never met her. We don't really have a reason to go down to La Push."
Nervousness made me start babbling. "I've known her my whole life. She and Dad have been friends since they were kids, they talk all the time and they're always giving each other advice. Bonnie's husband died about eight years ago, so they've helped each other out with the whole single parent thing. Charlie really trusts her, and they hardly ever fight, except-" I cut myself off just short of saying something stupid, but unfortunately not quite fast enough.
"Except?" Edythe prompted.
I hesitated, then shook my head. "No, no, it's nothing. Sorry, forget I said anything."
She gave me a look that somehow managed to be disapproving and concerned at the same time. "Beau, please. I can see that whatever it is really bothers you. There's no need to keep it to yourself, and perhaps talking about it will help."
I really did try to resist. Whatever the truth was, this was guaranteed to upset her, and no amount of answers to my many questions was worth that. I'd go without knowing forever if it kept her happy. It didn't matter.
So there was one answer, at least.
But unfortunately, her eyes were looking deep into mine, asking questions of their own, and I was utterly incapable of withstanding their power. Words were spilling out of me before I had consciously decided to speak.
"Okay, so, the only thing they've ever really disagreed about is… well, you. Your family, I mean. Bonnie was really not happy when you guys moved to town and she told everyone on the reservation not to go to the hospital anymore, and that upset my dad because he didn't understand why. And then when he told her about us going on a date, she told him he shouldn't let me see you because you were bad news, but she still wouldn't really explain her reason."
I stopped only because Edythe's expression had now gone completely blank.
"I see," she said in a nearly inaudible murmur that almost didn't seem like she meant for me to hear.
Now that I had started, I knew I had to get the whole story out, consequences be damned. "Neither of us understood what her problem was. We both asked her, but she wouldn't say anything else, only that it was a tribal thing. So, I talked to Jules, her daughter. We've been friends since we were tiny, and it took some cajoling, but I finally convinced her to tell me."
I paused briefly to measure where her mood was. She was still staring fixedly ahead of her, no longer quite meeting my eye, but she waved a hand for me to go on.
"She told me a story," I obediently continued, my voice dropping almost to a whisper. "One she doesn't believe, but her mom does. She said that members of their tribe have been fighting for years against these creatures they call the Cold Ones. She told me that her great-grandfather met some of them seventy years ago… and that it was you and your family. That's why Bonnie hates you guys so much, because she thinks you're all Cold Ones."
Edythe's voice was detached and unemotional as she spoke. "And did your friend tell you what these Cold Ones really are?"
Here goes nothing, I thought, bracing myself. "Yes. She said… she said that we would call them vampires."
There it was. The big word I'd been obsessing over for the better part of a week. It was out in the open now, and there was no taking it back. It seemed to hang in the air between us, the impact of it tangible. I was holding my breath as I waited for her reaction, not daring to break the silence myself.
"Do you believe her?" Edythe finally asked, still calm and distant, like the answer didn't much matter to her.
"That's what I've been trying to figure out," I admitted softly. "I've been going round in circles, thinking about everything I know about you… and everything I don't. Everything I've seen and heard, other stories that I know. But it didn't seem to add up one way or the other. And then…"
"And then?"
I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. "Today, not all that long ago actually, I decided it doesn't matter."
The blank look finally broke as her forehead creased in a perplexed frown. "It doesn't matter?"
"No." I shook my head. "I don't care if Jules' story is true or not. If you are… not human…" I swallowed hard. "Then that's okay with me. If you want to tell me, fine, and if you don't, that's alright too. And if it's not true, then hey, it's a funny story to tell people when we're older." I gave her the best grin I could manage, given the anxious anticipation rolling in my gut.
She still looked completely confused. "You mean you really don't care what I am? I could be a monster intent on death and destruction – perhaps even yours – and you don't want to know?"
I nodded slowly. "I mean, I want to know. But I want to be with you more, and if I have to stay in the dark to do that, I'm fine with it."
"That could be very dangerous."
Was I imagining it, or was there a note of warning in her tone now?
My heart was in my throat. "I'll take that risk."
She was giving me one of those intense looks again, like she was trying to see to the depths of my soul. I waited patiently, prepared for whatever she was going to say. After all the anxiety, I was almost surprised by how calm I was in the actual moment. If nothing else, it made me certain of what I had told her – it genuinely did not matter to me who or what Edythe was.
I loved her, truly, completely and without question. Anything else was irrelevant.
"The Quileutes have very long memories," Edythe finally murmured, still watching my face closely.
I understood immediately what she was trying to say, but I had to ask. "So it's true? Bonnie's story is right."
"Yes, it is." For the first time since I had known her, she seemed genuinely nervous. "And that truly doesn't… bother you?"
"No." I smiled and threaded my fingers more firmly through hers. "But thank you for telling me, anyway."
"I may live to regret it." She tilted her head back, staring up at the sky, her expression shifting rapidly between several different moods, but clearly not happy.
We sat in silence for a moment as both of us processed what had just happened. I waited for panic to set in, or fear; after all, I had just been told that not only were vampires real, but I was holding hands with one. But there was none of that. I felt nothing but love and the peaceful, relaxed feeling that comes from having a prolonged uncertainty finally settled.
"So what now?" I asked at last, barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," she admitted, sighing and meeting my eye again. "This whole situation is entirely unprecedented. I've never had to tell anyone before, certainly not a human." Abruptly, the warning tone was back, much clearer this time, and accompanied by a matching look. "I hope that it goes without saying, but I must ask you not to speak about this with anyone else. It is already a risk enough for me to tell you the truth, so we cannot allow any chance of it getting back to the wrong people."
"Keep it secret, got it." That made perfect sense; after all, if the existence of supernatural creatures were allowed to be public knowledge, then I would already know all about it. It was the other part that caught my attention. "Who are the wrong people?"
"Others like me. Well, they aren't precisely like me, but they're… my kind, and they're… let's say, invested in all of us keeping hidden from your people." She frowned, unmistakable confusion in her eyes. "You're taking all of this remarkably well. I know you said it doesn't matter but… I just told you I'm not human, Beau, and you're barely batting an eyelid."
I shrugged. "I've always known that you're extraordinary, Edythe. Was I thinking mythological creature? Not exactly, but I guess it doesn't surprise me that you aren't human, because you're so obviously something more than the rest of us. Honestly, it kinda makes sense."
Edythe shook her head slowly, a wondering expression creeping onto her face. "You really are an utterly remarkable boy." Then she shifted slightly so she was sitting up straighter, all business. "I suppose you have questions."
"Yeah," I nodded. "Only I have no clue where to start. It's a bit of a step up from 'What's your favourite colour?' to this, you know? What do you think I should know first?"
"Well…" Edythe said, slow and deliberate, as if choosing her words with care. "I think first you should know that I mean you no harm, and I would never intentionally hurt you. Beyond that, I think… I think it would be easiest for me to tell you my story from the beginning."
"Sure," I agreed easily, doing my best not to look too eager. "Whatever you think will work."
She nodded, still moving with slow care, gazing out across the water rather than look at me.
"I was born in Chicago," she began, her honey voice flowing smoothly from her lips. "On Valentine's Day, like I told you – that much is true about me. But I'm a lot older than sixteen."
"How much older?" I asked gently when it seemed like she wouldn't continue.
Her eyes slid closed and her shoulders stiffened, as if she were bracing for some kind of impact. "About… eighty-seven years."
It wasn't hard to do the math; if she were actually sixteen, we would have been born in the same year, so if I was born in 1987, she'd really been born in… "1900? The literal turn of the century?"
"Yes." She nodded, eyes still closed. She seemed to be waiting for a response from me before she went on.
"Okay," I breathed. I'd had this thought – that she might be a lot more than seven months older than me – and really, eighty-seven years wasn't all that bad. I'd been prepared to hear she was centuries old, so the reality was almost a relief.
Her eyes finally opened and she scrutinised my face closely, obviously trying to see if I was being genuine. Whatever she saw must have calmed her nerves, because she started back into her story after a few moments.
"My parents were named Edward and Elizabeth Masen. He was a lawyer, and she ran their household – we were rising middle class, which basically meant we could afford a few servants but my mother still knew how to cook and do household chores for herself. They had me very quickly after they married, and my younger brother followed close behind me in June of 1901. I don't remember those years well – our memories of our lives as humans fade with time – but I know we were very happy." She was watching the water again now, lost in her apparently hazy recollections. "I do have much clearer memories of when things began to go wrong. It was 1918, and war was still raging in Europe. My brother was champing at the bit to join the fighting, but Mother wouldn't hear of it. And then we began to hear about an illness sweeping across the continent, finding its way to America, closing in on our city and our comfortable little life." She turned to look at me then. "They called it the Spanish Influenza."
A light shudder ran up my spine; I'd heard of Spanish Flu before, and though I couldn't claim to know much, I remembered it had been one of the deadliest global pandemics in history.
"My father succumbed first," Edythe went on quietly. "Thankfully, he didn't suffer for long. But there was hardly time to grieve for him, because my mother and brother had fallen ill too. I was spared, and I still do not know why. I visited them as often as I could, and I tried to help take care of them. So many were ill, and there never seemed to be enough doctors or nurses to take care of everyone." Her eyes were full of sadness, no less acute for being decades old. "Then one day I arrived, and they weren't there anymore. It took longer than I liked for someone to give me an answer as to what had happened, but in the end I was told they had both passed away in the night. In a matter of weeks, I had gone from being part of a warm, loving family of four to being entirely alone."
Her hand was still in mine, and I squeezed it gently with what I hoped was a reassuring pressure. She gave me the barest hint of a smile before going on with her story.
"The next year was very hard for me. I made most of the funeral arrangements by myself, and then I had to deal with a lot of paperwork and legal matters, not all of which I fully understood. Once that was all settled, I was left with the problem of how to support myself. I had inherited everything, of course, but even I could see that it wouldn't last if I didn't find a way to make some kind of money for myself. Yet everywhere I went looking for work, I was turned away. Some said I was overqualified, others that I wasn't qualified enough. Many questioned why a well-to-do, well-educated young lady such as myself even needed a job. Nine months or so after my family's deaths, I was still unemployed and rapidly running out of money."
I felt the beginnings of anger stirring in me, a pang through my chest as I imagined her all on her own like that. "Didn't anyone help you?"
She shook her head. "No one knew I needed it. I was too stubborn, too proud to ask for help. I didn't want to seem pitiful or be someone's charity case. Eventually, I began quietly selling off the contents of my home, about the same time as my health started to decline."
"You got the flu too?" I guessed.
"No, it had passed by then. I think I had pneumonia or something similar, though I never got a proper diagnosis. But it was just one more thing I had to work through, one more complication making everything harder. At last, I had nothing left but my mother's engagement ring and the house itself. I settled the sale of the house with an agent, found a local shopkeeper who would deliver food to me for a minimal extra charge until my account ran out of money, and just lay in my old bedroom, clinging to that ring as I waited for the end."
I didn't like this story anymore; even though clearly, that wasn't where her life had ended, just thinking about it was painful. She must have seen how it was affecting me, because she ran her thumb soothingly across my knuckles.
"But someone else found me first," she went on, her voice hushed. "It was a dark night, the moon thin and shrouded by clouds. I was at the height of my fever, and I am certain it would have been my last night on Earth if not for the visitor who arrived in my room. I can remember it so clearly, even though I was barely conscious. I heard the door swinging open, and then a soft gasp and a whispered voice, sweeter than the singing of angels, saying my name. I turned over to look, and there he was. My brother, Edward." Her smile was soft and wistful, her eyes sliding closed as she reminisced. "He was different. I could see that at once, even with weak eyes and only a dim candle to light the room. His face was sharper, harder, his eyes darker, and his hand was cold when he took hold of mine. He was… so beautiful, the most beautiful man I had ever seen, and at first I thought he was an angel come to carry me away, to take me to Heaven to be with him and our parents." She shook her head, smirking slightly as she let out a single huff of laughter. "He soon disabused me of that idea. When I realised he was by some miracle still alive, all I wanted was to stay with him. I knew I was dying, and when I'd believed all my family was on the other side, it hadn't seemed too bad a prospect. But learning that my brother had survived gave me something to live for again. So I begged him to save me, to let me be with him again, no matter what that meant. He didn't like it, and he has spent the last eighty years apologising, but he did as I asked and took me to Carine, who made me…" She gestured to herself. "…this."
She went quiet then, letting me process everything that she had said. I ran through it a few times, trying to wrap my head around the idea of this girl having gone through so much in just the first tiny part of her life. I already knew I wanted to protect her from any hardship; it made my heart ache to realise there were things I was decades too late to do anything about.
"So…" I ventured at last. "Edward really is your brother, then?"
"Yes, he is." A hint of wariness came into her expression, like she wasn't sure where I was going with this.
"And after you… changed? Is that the right word?"
She gave the tiniest flicker of a smile. "That's one that we use, yes."
"Right." I nodded. "After you changed, Carine was like your mom, like she really adopted you."
"I suppose you could see it that way. We certainly do." She looked down at our hands. "I know it isn't exactly the story that I told you before."
"But it's part of the truth," I pointed out. "As much of it as you could tell me, right?"
Edythe met my eye again. "Yes. Believe me, Beau, I have always wanted you to know the truth. And I will not lie to you going forward, I promise. Anything you want to know, you need only ask."
I still hadn't figured out what I wanted to know about vampires more generally, but I was sure listening to more of her story would answer some of it for me. "What happened to your brother? How did he survive?"
"Carine was their night nurse, his and Mother's. She has been one of our kind for a very long time and, up to that point, had spent much of it alone. She has always been… not ostracised, exactly, but not really understood by others, and it led her to be isolated, partially by her own choice, it must be said."
"Why's that?" I wondered.
"She has certain moral convictions, ones that the rest of us share, but which many others find baffling and unnatural. We are a little… different from the vast majority of other vampires. I don't know if your Quileute friend had that in her stories."
I nodded. "She said the Cold Ones… you guys, I mean… that you told her great grandfather you fed from animals."
"That's right." She looked almost pleased, which made me feel unreasonably proud for remembering that part. "Carine developed the practice in her younger years and we have all followed her into it. But in 1918, she was still by herself. She'd met other vampires over the years, but none had understood her choices and she couldn't get along with anyone who didn't see the value of human life, not well enough to travel or stay with for an extended period. She had begun to consider making a companion if she could not find one, but she also did not wish to take anyone from a life that still had potential or a family that would miss them. Amid her indecision, she met my mother and Edward. Despite knowing it wasn't very sensible, she grew fond of them and wanted to help them. When my mother's dying wish was for Carine to save her son, it made up her mind for her."
I frowned. "But I thought she didn't want to take anyone away from their family. What about you?"
Edythe shrugged delicately. "She only worked nights, and I could only visit for a few set hours in the day. I never saw her and she never saw me, and as far as she knew, once Mother died, Edward was entirely alone. She didn't even know I existed until he told her about me, by which time it was far too late. My brother believed he would never see me again, but Carine got word about the sale of the house somehow and suggested he fetch anything he had left behind. She wasn't to know that all he would find was me." Abruptly, she stood, glancing out across the water at the sky just beginning to darken. "We should get going if we want to get dinner before your father comes to pick us up."
I stood too. "Will you keep going with your story? I mean, can we talk about this stuff where people could hear us?"
"We will have to be very careful," she warned. "But yes, we can keep talking, if that's what you would like."
"Very much. I told you at the dance, I want to know everything about you, Edythe."
Her smile was small and a little sad, but still stunningly beautiful. "You may not like everything you hear."
I had already considered that, and like everything else, I knew it wouldn't matter. She was probably going to scare me at some point, but never enough to chase me away. Rather than embarrass myself by voicing any of that, though, I only said, "Keep going. What happened after you changed?"
Edythe began leading me back along the boardwalk as she spoke, and it was more comforting than I could have imagined to have her hand securely in mine as she told the rest of her story. "A lot of adjustment, at first. It's difficult to describe to someone who hasn't experienced it, just how different everything is after the change is over. It really is like being born again, and it takes a while to get used to all the new feelings and sensations and abilities. And the thirst…" She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. "That craving and drive to find blood. There isn't anything else like it in the world. Certainly no human experience that compares, and when we are new, it is stronger than anything, especially if you are trying to live the way that we do. So that first year was just about adapting to my new life and building my control enough to re-enter society. After that, there was a year or so of just the three of us, Carine working and Edward and I studying, before Earnest showed up."
"Huh." I couldn't help a little smile. "So your dad is younger than you."
She chuckled. "He was born before us, though not nearly long enough to be our father. But yes, I suppose you could say he's younger, in a way. He was another one that Carine found dying while she was at work and felt she had to help. It was obvious immediately that he wasn't going to be a child to her the way that we were, though it took longer than either Edward or I liked before they finally admitted how they felt about each other. Their wedding was an understated yet beautiful affair, and they have been blissfully happy together ever since."
My smile widened. "That's nice, especially since Carine was on her own for… how long, exactly?"
"Roughly two hundred and forty years." She delivered the words casually and laughed at my resulting expression; I could feel my eyes had popped wide and my jaw had dropped. "Don't worry, she's the oldest by quite some margin. The rest of us can claim just over a century at most."
I shook my head to clear it a little. "Right. So, um, what about the others? Did Carine find them, too?"
We were just reaching the main streets of town by this point, and Edythe shifted to walk right against my side, curling her hand so our arms were more entwined. To an outside observer, it would just look like we were a typical young couple on a date, trying to be as close to one another as possible. But I quickly realised that the movement had a purpose behind it, as she dropped her volume to avoid being overheard by any passers-by.
"No, just Rosalie. She was attacked and left for dead in the street, and Carine smelt her blood as she was walking home and went to investigate."
"Oh god, that's awful." I couldn't even picture Rosalie Hale as anything other than pristine and put-together. "But she's okay now, right?"
"Physically, yes. Mentally…" Edythe made a face. "Well, it's not really my place to say. She made sure the men who did it could hurt no one else ever again, that's for certain."
Something in her tone told me I did not want her to elaborate on that point. "But maybe I don't ask her about it, huh?"
"No, that would not be wise," she agreed, smirking just a little before her expression got sombre. "Rose struggled the most of all of us with that adaptation phase I was telling you about. Edward and I had been on the verge of death for long enough to accept it, so a second chance at living, the chance to start a new life was… not welcome or easy, precisely, but the transition was less complicated. We were done, and then we got to start again. For Rosalie, her life was interrupted just as she felt it was getting started. She had a family that she had to leave behind and plans for her future that were no longer possible once she changed. Accepting that was hard for her, and there is still a part of her that wishes she could be human again. Is this our dinner spot?"
The abrupt subject change threw me, and it took longer than it should have for me to register that we were indeed standing in front of Bella Italia, a kitschy little Italian place but the only affordable nice restaurant option I knew of.
"Er, yeah, this is it." I fumbled with the door but got it open and held it for her. "After you."
"Why, thank you, kind sir." Her tone was playful again, the seriousness melting away as quickly as it had come, with that pleased expression she always got when I was trying to be gentlemanly.
I wasn't all that surprised that the host behind the podium blinked a few times and looked like someone had smacked him in the face as Edythe approached him. I knew well the effect she had on all the boys at school, even after months of exposure; our first sights of all the Cullens had got much the same reaction from the entire Forks High student body (and even a few of the teachers, which still felt decidedly weird even knowing that the 'kids' were decades older than all of them).
"Table for one, miss?" The host had recovered his equilibrium and was smiling at Edythe in a way I did not like at all. I'd never thought of myself as a jealous person, and I wasn't stupid enough to think that other people wouldn't find Edythe beautiful. But I'd be lying if I said being completely ignored when I was with her didn't sting just a bit.
"No, two please," Edythe said, sweetness and steel mingling in her tone as she deliberately reached back to take hold of my hand again.
"Oh." He deflated a little but quickly straightened after giving me a quick once-over. "Of course. Follow me, please."
Trying not to feel self-conscious in the t-shirt and jeans that suddenly felt far too shabby, I trailed behind Edythe as the man led us through the dining room. He laid the menus on a table in the middle of the floor and I moved to pull a chair out for Edythe, mostly just to prove a point, but she stopped me.
"Perhaps something a little more private?" she asked him, her hand flashing out with a small fold of bills held between her fingers. I couldn't see the denomination from my angle, but the host looked startled.
Nevertheless, he pocketed the money and picked the leather folders back up. "Er, okay. This way."
I'd never actually seen anyone refuse a table like that, except maybe in old movies; I was sure I would have been a fumbling mess if I'd even tried it. But Edythe was perfectly calm as she followed the host around a partition to a ring of booths in the corner, all of them currently empty.
"How's this?" he asked, almost embarrassingly eager to please.
She rewarded him with a beaming smile. "Perfect, thank you." She slid into the nearest booth, quickly shifting across and pulling me in next to her.
The host looked a little dazed now as he set down the menus. "Your server will be right over to get your drink orders."
Edythe's smile dropped as soon as he was out of sight around the partition. "Well, he was very rude."
I blinked a few times. "Was he?"
"Yes." She looked at me like I was missing something obvious. "To not even acknowledge you like that. I've half a mind to call for a manager."
"That's not necessary," I assured her. "I wouldn't expect him to pay any attention to me when you're right in front of him."
Her nose scrunched up, and she looked like she was going to argue when a young woman who was clearly our waitress appeared around the partition. There was a curious, eager look on her face that told me the host had been gossiping; to her credit, she didn't completely ignore me, but most of her attention was on Edythe.
"Hi, my name's Shelley and I'll be your server this evening. Can I get you started on any drinks?"
"What would you like, Beau?" Edythe looked at me pointedly, obviously determined that the wait staff would not get away with acting like I wasn't there.
I hadn't even looked at the menu yet to see what they had on offer, so I went with a safe option. "Um, a Coke, please."
"The same for me, thank you," Edythe chimed in, once again polite, with just a touch of ice to her smile.
"Sure thing, I'll be right back with that." The waitress fidgeted a little, looking uncomfortable, then hurried away.
"That wasn't very nice," I commented.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Her eyes danced with mischief, telling me clearly that she did, in fact, know exactly what I was getting at. She picked up her menu and began perusing it with exaggerated care. "What are you in the mood for? If we can order when she comes back, she may not bother us quite as much."
I scanned down the list of options. The seafood linguine caught my eye until I also caught sight of how much it cost; even with not having to pay for the cinema earlier, I didn't have enough for two meals at that price point, and silently cursed myself for not bringing more cash with me. Instead, I looked at the cheaper options.
"The penne carbonara sounds pretty good," I said, trying not to show how indifferent I actually felt about it; it was the sort of dish I could easily make myself at home.
Edythe hummed noncommittally and looked like she was going to say something, but stopped herself. "Here she comes."
Sure enough, the waitress appeared around the partition with our drinks and set them on the table. "There you go, two Cokes. Are we ready to order, or do you guys need a few more minutes?"
"We are," Edythe said. "I'll have the seafood linguine."
Doing a bit of mental math and feeling very grateful I'd made the more economic choice, I gave the woman a moment to write down the order before making my own.
When she was gone, I gave Edythe a shrewd look. "How did you know she was coming? Is that a… a thing you can do?" God, could I sound any more awkward?
Edythe just smiled. "I heard her coming. Our senses are highly tuned, particularly hearing and smell. That's one thing that we have to adjust to in the early days – that sudden rush of extra sensory information can be overwhelming at first."
"How much can you hear?" I asked, my curiosity sparking.
"Oh, just about everything in the building, and a little bit further." She closed her eyes. "There's the pots and pans in the kitchen, and the chefs talking…" She tutted lightly. "Goodness, they're vulgar… the couple over on the other side of the dining room… oh dear, they're having an argument about their rent… a new customer just came in and the server is greeting them… hmmm, not as friendly as he was to us… one, two, three cars passing outside, it's busy around here tonight…" She opened her eyes again, smiling wider at the no doubt astounded look on my face. "Did I finally say something that disturbs you?"
"No." I shook my head insistently. "No, I'm fine."
"Good." The smile was definitely entering smirk territory; she knew I wasn't being completely truthful and was apparently enjoying watching me squirm. "I'd hate for anything to upset you so early in the proceedings."
She reached out and laid her hand over mine, and the spark that ran through me made my heart jump into overtime. Her expression shifted ever so slightly, the amusement becoming just prominent enough for me to realise something mildly horrifying. Even though I didn't really want to know the answer, I had to ask.
"Can you hear, um…" I tapped my chest with my free hand. "That?"
"Yes, I can."
"Oh god," I groaned, closing my eyes in utter mortification, thinking of all the times my pulse had started racing around her.
A moment later, a cold hand cupped my cheek, making my eyes pop open again in shock. Edythe's smile was gentle now, almost sympathetic.
"Don't be embarrassed," she murmured, and just the sound of her voice was unbelievably soothing. "I love to hear your heart. It reminds me that you're still alive, and I, for one, will never take that for granted." She stroked my cheek gently with her thumb, her look turning pensive. "I'm sure you haven't had reason to think about how quickly that could change."
I frowned, instinctually laying my hand over hers; our other hands had shifted at some point so they were folded together on the seat between us, and I squeezed her fingers lightly. "Hey, it's okay. I'm fine, Edythe, I'm not going to spontaneously drop dead."
"My logical mind knows that." She moved her hand off my face, taking mine with it to join the others. "But I find it a little difficult to listen to that side of my brain when other parts are eager to remind me of all the ways you could be harmed, just going about your daily life. You cannot imagine how such images haunt me, especially when…" She broke off sharply, closing her eyes in anguish.
"When what?" I asked in a whisper; things had suddenly got very intense, but I couldn't have broken the moment if I tried. I wanted to reach out and hold her face the way she had cupped mine, yet some instinct kept me frozen still.
When her eyes opened again, they were full of a sadness so deep it made me truly believe for the first time that she had over a hundred years behind her.
"My family has made the choice not to feed from humans," she breathed, barely loud enough for me to hear her. "I've been doing it for a long time, and I'm very good. But the Quileutes weren't wrong to want us off their land when we encountered them all those years ago. We are still vampires, we still crave human blood, and we are still dangerous. I told you I would never hurt you intentionally, and I stand by that. But the thought of what I might do without meaning to, in a moment of weakness, has frightened me more than I can express in words. Even as the sound of it comforts me, there is a little voice in the back of my head reminding me that your pounding heart means racing adrenaline, which means your blood in this moment will be especially sweet, unbelievably rich… Sitting this close to you, it feels like the scent of it is going to consume me…" She once again stopped abruptly, withdrawing her hands, much to my disappointment. "I'm sorry. This all must be so frightening. I have truly spoiled the evening now, haven't I?"
"No," I disagreed. "I'm glad you feel you can tell me this stuff. I promise, I'm not scared." I hurried on so she wouldn't catch the little white lie. "I trust you."
"You really do, don't you?" she murmured, a wondering note to her voice.
We sat silent for a few moments, just watching each other, absorbing the shift the conversation had taken. I was struck by the certain understanding that, though she'd not said it in so many words, Edythe had just confessed to a desire to kill me. Yet she'd also been talking about her concern for my life and how it would upset her if it ended.
I could only hope that the latter impulse would win out against the former.
"Will you tell me more about your family?" I finally said, in a vain hope that it would get us back on track to the lighter air we'd started out with.
Edythe looked like she was about to agree, then quickly shook her head. "Not yet. The waitress is coming back."
Sure enough, the woman in question appeared moments later with two plates of food.
"Just watch the dishes, they're a little hot," she warned cheerfully. "Anything else I can get you guys?"
"No, we're all good, thank you," I assured her, wishing she would just leave so we could get back to what we'd been talking about.
"Yes, thank you," Edythe echoed, her wide, toothy smile as icy as it was beautiful. This time I didn't mind so much that it obviously made the waitress uncomfortable; she scurried away quickly without another word.
"Well, that should be the last of the interruptions for a little while," Edythe said, smiling far more naturally. "Shall we go back to our previous conversation, or would you prefer to eat in peace?"
"I can eat and listen," I replied, picking up my fork and twirling up my first bite of spaghetti. "But if you'd rather eat, we can wait until later."
She smirked. "Oh, trust me, you don't want me to eat at this table." Off my confused look, she quickly elaborated, a note of caution entering her eyes as she carefully gauged my reaction to her words. "Blood is the only thing my body can process now. Food like this wouldn't do me any favours, and honestly, it would be more hassle than it's worth. Besides, it holds absolutely no appeal for me. My typical meals are rather more… lively. You probably don't want to hear about it while you're eating."
"Later," I agreed, carefully keeping my face as neutral as I could; I hoped she would see that I could handle any discussion of her eating habits – and that if I projected it enough, maybe I would believe it too.
"The upside is, you can help yourself to whatever you like and I won't care in the slightest." She grinned as she pushed her plate slightly towards me. "I might dip in from time to time for appearance's sake, but it will go to waste otherwise."
As if to prove her point, she speared a prawn from the top of her meal and held it out to me; I obediently ate it off her fork. It was delicious; I hummed happily and gave her my best close-mouthed grin, the kind that Bella called 'goofy' and was always teasing me about.
Edythe smiled approvingly. "So, shall we continue with Cullen Family History 101? Where did we get to?"
"Rosalie," I said after I'd swallowed my mouthful. "But I think you were pretty much done with her."
"Ah, yes." She settled back into storyteller mode, absentmindedly twirling her pasta as she talked. "We had just about adapted to having her with us – as much as anyone can ever adapt to living with Rose – when she brought Eleanor home. That was certainly one of her more dramatic entrances. She went out hunting and came back a few hours later, carrying this enormous girl absolutely covered in blood and clinging to life by her fingernails." She broke off and gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry, perhaps this isn't the best dinnertime conversation either."
I waved off her concern. "I'm good. Blood only bothers me if I can smell it."
She gave me a look. "People can't smell blood."
"You can," I countered, taking another bite of food and keeping my tone as casual as I could.
"Yes, but I don't count." She was frowning now, and I worried she was slipping back into the melancholy mood from before, but it didn't seem that the temptation of my blood was bothering her anymore. "Do you really smell it?"
I nodded as I chewed and swallowed. "Yeah. It's like… rust and salt, kind of coppery, I guess. It makes me feel dizzy and kind of sick. My sister gets the same thing, we've got weak vasovagal systems."
"Duly noted," Edythe murmured. She was starting to look seriously concerned, so I did my best to distract her.
"So, what happened to Eleanor to get her in such a mess?"
My efforts must have had some impact, because an amused and faintly indulgent look crept onto Edythe's face. "Actually, she was out hunting, too. Trying to prove a point to her brothers, I believe – she was always rather unconventional. But she tested her luck a bit too far and ran into an irate bear. Rosalie has never been quite sure what made her do it, but when she came upon the scene by chance, she felt compelled to help Ellie. She killed the animal and carried Eleanor over a hundred miles to get her home and ask Carine to change her. The amount of control that took…" She shook her head slowly. "I still don't know how she could do it. I don't think I would have the strength to resist that much blood for that long."
I hummed around another mouthful of pasta, not really sure what to say. We were drifting towards the dangerous topic of blood again, and I wasn't sure how to steer us away.
Edythe didn't need any input from me, though; her expression was turning into a smirk again as she carried on with her story. "El could not have been more different from Rose, although her arrival was no less chaotic. She found her new life utterly thrilling, everything was wonderful to her, and she settled in quickly. She was just endlessly happy, which was quite refreshing after Rose and Edward being so grumpy."
I raised an eyebrow at her word choice. "Grumpy? Really?"
"Maybe not quite the right word," she allowed. "But it did often feel like the two of them were sulking their way through immortality in those early days. Honestly, it still does sometimes."
"What about you?" I asked. "Were you grumpy too?"
"I've had my moments, but I'm not nearly as bad. I've never quite reached Eleanor's level of enthusiasm, though."
"That makes sense." I reached over and saved a chunk of fish that was about to be pushed off her plate by her endless pasta twirling. "So then she and Rosalie got together too?"
"Yes, eventually. Eleanor fell for Rosalie pretty much instantly and didn't even try to hide it, which meant Rose had a bit of an identity crisis over how much she enjoyed having a woman flirt with her." She snickered. "It was amusing to bear witness to, even if the rest of us wanted to bang their heads together sometimes. But in the end, Rosalie accepted that side of herself and they've been disgustingly happy ever since."
"What about Alice and Jasper?"
"They were already together when we met them. Actually, they came to find us."
"Oh." I didn't know why I was so surprised by that, but it pulled me up short. "Carine didn't change them, then?"
"No, she didn't. Jasper…" She pursed her lips. "Well, his story is a bit complicated, but suffice to say he had come from a much more… traditional background, shall we say?"
I understood what she meant right away. "He… ate people?" I whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was within hearing distance.
"He did." Her eyes were sad again, but in a caring, sympathetic way as she talked about her brother. "For quite some time, in fact, though he had realised that killing made him miserable by the time he met Alice. It was her who introduced him to the idea that there could be another way."
"So she was already…" I frowned. "Is there a word for what you are? The not traditional ones, I mean."
Edythe laughed lightly. "Eleanor once jokingly compared us to vegetarians, and that kind of stuck. So you can use that if you're looking for a word."
"Vegetarian vampires," I mused, as much to try out the second word as the first; I felt like we'd been avoiding it, whether consciously or not.
"Yes, it sounds a little bizarre, doesn't it?" Her smile was knowing again, as if she had guessed where my thoughts had turned.
"What made Alice try it?" I wondered. "She came from somewhere else too, I'm guessing?"
"She did. And honestly, that's a bit of a mystery. Alice doesn't actually remember where she came from at all. Her first ever memory was opening her eyes in the middle of a forest, completely alone, without any idea of who or what she was. There's a very real chance she would have gone completely insane, if not for her visions."
I'd taken what seemed like the beginning of another longer stretch in the story to take a big bite of food; now I nearly choked on it. "Visions?"
Edythe nodded. "Yes, visions. Are you alright?" She patted my back lightly.
"Fine, fine," I insisted, waving off her concern and taking a gulp of my drink to settle myself. "What exactly do you mean by visions?"
"Some of us have… extra abilities, beyond the norm for other vampires. We call it being gifted or talented. Alice's gift is that she is able to see the future."
"Wow. That must come in handy."
Edythe chuckled. "Yes, it is very useful. Although it can get annoying when she makes plans without actually consulting anyone because she's already seen how we'll respond. She lives almost constantly a few steps ahead of the rest of us, and from time to time she gets more detailed snapshots of events that she calls visions. The very first one she ever had came to her moments after she awoke. She saw Jasper, watched the two of them meeting, and understood that they were going to be together someday. Then she saw the rest of our family, as it was at the time, and knew that the both of them would be a part of that family. Through her visions, she found a path in life that kept her focused and centred. She essentially taught herself how to live our way and by the time she found Jasper for real, she was as good at it as any of the rest of us."
"That's…. kind of cool, actually." I tilted my head to the side. "But I guess it was a bit weird when they first turned up."
"It certainly took some getting used to. As far as Alice was concerned, we were already her siblings, and it threw us all a bit off kilter while we tried to catch up with her. But once we did, both of them became just as integral to our family as anyone else. We wouldn't be the same without them. And so it's been the eight of us for the last fifty years or so, travelling from place to place, integrating into human society as much as we can without drawing attention to ourselves."
"Have you ever found anyone else like Alice? Anyone who taught themselves to be vegetarian, I mean?"
She nodded. "Sort of. There's one other group like ours that live up in Alaska, who developed the same lifestyle, though for rather different reasons. We lived with them before we came here, but we had to move on after a few years."
"Why's that?"
"Oh, we were just too conspicuous." She shrugged. "There are five of them, plus all of us… I'm sure you can imagine what the locals started thinking."
I nodded and hummed in agreement, taking another bite of my food and thinking about the stir just the eight Cullens had caused when they arrived in Forks. Five more equally beautiful people on top of that… yes, they would definitely have caught a lot of attention.
The story was clearly over, and though I tried to think of something else to ask her about, the conversation seemed to have petered out for the moment. As I wracked my brains for the next question to ask, I continually came back to the idea of Alice seeing the future and the way Edythe had said some of 'us' were talented. Did she have a talent too? Could she have known what I was going to say tonight before I said it? She certainly hadn't seemed shocked that I had discovered her secret. Had Alice warned her, or could she see it for herself?
"What are you contemplating so intensely over there?" Edythe asked, a playful smirk on her face as she stirred her food around her plate.
I hurriedly chewed and swallowed my bite of pasta. "Well, I was just thinking about that whole talented thing. I was wondering… if there were other people who can see things like Alice, or other kinds of talents, not just what she can do."
"Yes, there are others." She seemed almost proud of me for having the thought, which made me feel something I couldn't fully identify, but I liked very much. "Was there anything in particular that you were wondering about?"
"Mainly that you didn't seem all that surprised to hear that I'd found out the truth about you. So I was wondering if you knew somehow, maybe."
She nodded, her smile turning a little more guarded. "Yes, I knew. I wasn't sure how you had found out, or what you thought about it, but I knew you'd learned the truth somehow."
I put down my fork and tentatively reached out for her hand; tension had tightened her shoulders, making me wonder what landmine I had accidentally stepped on to trigger such a reaction.
"Can you tell me how you knew?" I asked softly, mimicking her soothing motion from earlier by running my thumb gently across her knuckles. "Is it too big a secret?"
"No, nothing like that," she assured me, shaking her head lightly. "I just… I'm worried that when you hear it, it will make you uncomfortable."
I frowned. "Uncomfortable? Why do you think something you can do would make me feel that way?"
"Because it's not what I can do." She sighed. "Well, what I can do might not be altogether comfortable for you either, but it's not how I learned you had discovered the truth."
"Okay…" Her anxiety was starting to affect me too; there was a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach and I found it harder to keep up the gentle movement of my thumb across her hand.
She laid her other hand over mine and turned slightly so she was facing me more fully. "I'm sorry, Beau. I'm making all this unnecessarily dramatic, aren't I? It's just that I want so badly for you to think well of me, so I'm trying everything I can to keep your good opinion. Especially after nearly making a mess of it earlier. But you have asked a valid question and you have the right to know this."
She took a deep breath and let it out in a rush; the air blew across my face, icy cold and filled with a sweet scent that made my head spin so that I almost didn't hear what she said next.
"I knew you had found out our secret because Edward heard it in your thoughts."
I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the intoxicating effect of her breath so I could process her words. "Um… what?"
Edythe was watching me carefully now, a somewhat wary look on her face, like she was afraid I was about to freak out… or maybe faint. "My brother can hear what other people are thinking as if they were speaking it out loud. When you came to ask me out the other day, he heard you thinking about your true purpose, how you wanted to ask me about vampires. He didn't know how you had discovered it, but he said it was all over your mind."
We sat in silence for a few moments while I let this latest revelation sink in.
"Well," I finally sighed. "I guess that explains why he hates me so much."
Edythe's eyes flashed darkly. "It should mean that he understands you better and has some level of trust in you. But even with his skills, I don't think he knows you the way that I do."
"Is that… because of what you can do?" I wondered, trying not to sound too eager. "I mean, I guess I never really asked, but you have a gift too, right?"
"Yes, I do." She nodded. "And I suppose it gives me, if not a greater insight than my brother, at least something a little different. I have often felt that my talent grants me a view of people that is… deeper, more profound than the things my brother hears. But there are equally things he is privy to that I am not."
"Well, now you have to tell me," I joked weakly. "What could be deeper than everything I'm thinking at any given moment?"
Her smile was small, but it hadn't faded completely, and I called that a victory. "For starters, that word 'moment' is key. Edward can only hear what passes through your mind as you think it. Hence, he couldn't see that you had learned the truth from the Quileute girl because you didn't think about it at that moment." She took a deep breath and sat up straight, as if bracing herself. "My talent is to see desires. At a glance, your momentary wishes are clear to me, but the longer I look, the deeper and further into the future I am able to peer. Not your true future, you understand – I am no clairvoyant like Alice. What I see is your dreams, what you hope will happen, no matter how possible or impossible it may be."
"So… you see what people want?" I ventured.
"In the simplest terms, yes."
"Huh." A few things suddenly made a whole lot more sense than they had at the time; one in particular, as I reached across to steal another bite of her meal. "Wait, is that why you ordered this, even though you knew you wouldn't eat it? Because I wanted it?"
"It was." She looked a little sheepish now. "Was that overstepping? I couldn't see why you seemed to be contemplating the other dish, but of course, you must have had a reason. I didn't mean to force you into anything."
"No, it's fine," I assured her. "It's… kind of sweet, in a way. I guess you saw that I wanted to ask you to the dance too, right?"
The sweet smile came back, thankfully. "That's right. As did both my brother and sister, although we all understood that you were hesitant about acting on that desire. So, I took the last step for you, much to Edward's frustration."
I couldn't help returning her mischievous grin. "How did Alice feel about it?"
Edythe laughed. "Oh, she told me where to find you. She's been on my side since the beginning." She gave me a curious head-tilt. "You're taking the news that complete strangers have various degrees of insight into the contents of the inside of your head very well. Honestly, Beau, I'm beginning to wonder if you aren't going into some kind of shock over all this."
"I'm fine, really," I insisted. "To be honest, people knowing what I'm thinking isn't all that new to me. You've probably noticed I have a tendency to telegraph my feelings all over my face. It's something I've always done, and another thing I have in common with my sister – our mom calls us her little open books. So I guess what I'm saying is, you probably don't have to read me that carefully to figure out what I'm thinking, even if you aren't telepathic or whatever."
There was an expression something like wonder on her face. "Every time I think you can't get more remarkable, you go and prove me wrong."
I couldn't help laughing. "You think I'm remarkable?"
"Yes." To my great astonishment, she was absolutely serious. "You fascinate me, Beau. I can't fully explain why, but I can no longer deny that truth."
The look she was giving me now was making my cheeks turn pink. I focused my attention on my food, which was now almost gone; despite my picking, Edythe's plate wasn't even half empty.
I wasn't sure how many more revelations I could take before the calm that Edythe was so surprised by broke, but there was one thing was still niggling at me, and I had to ask.
"But is that really enough to trust me with this big secret?" I wondered. "I mean, just because I sort of worked it out, doesn't mean you had to tell me I was right. The idea that those stories could be real is so impossible, you could easily have told me I was being ridiculous and I probably would have dropped the whole thing."
Edythe was serious again. "You said you'd spent the last few days working out what to say to me?" When I nodded, she went on. "Well, I've spent them trying to work out whether I would confirm or deny your suspicions. Really, I shouldn't have come at all, but I've found that right and wrong are starting to lose their meaning where you're concerned."
My heart sank at her implication. "This is wrong?"
"That depends entirely on who you ask." Her face was grim. "According to most of my siblings, no greater crime has ever been committed by any vampire in history. My father feels everything will work out as it's supposed to, whatever that looks like. My mother has only advised caution and largely reserved judgement." She sighed heavily. "I don't envy her position. She wants me to be happy, but she must always think of the best interests of the family and she cannot ignore the danger that a human being in the know poses."
"That's what I'm talking about," I said, turning to face her more fully as I put down my fork; food was the last thing on my mind right now. "If there's so many problems with me knowing, if it's dangerous, why tell me? Why put yourself through that?"
Her golden eyes seemed to burn as they gazed deep into mine. "Because whatever the reason for it, I want you as much as you want me. Because a mad, desperate little part of me hopes that if we both want this to work badly enough, then somehow it will, despite all the odds stacked against us. Because after all these years of simply existing, I wish to finally live."
I was dimly aware that there was something happening here that was a lot bigger than anything I had ever experienced. There had certainly never been a conversation like this between two teenagers before – but then again, only one of us was actually a teenager.
Our waitress chose exactly that moment to pop her head around the partition. "How are we doing, guys? Anything else I can get you?"
"The bill, please," Edythe replied, her eyes never leaving mine.
"Sure," the waitress said, sounding a little wary; I didn't have any inclination to turn and check her expression. "Here you go." She laid a black leather folder on the table, and I was finally released from Edythe's intense gaze as she turned to pick it up.
"You want to pay for yours and I'll make up the rest?" Edythe offered casually as she studied the paper inside, acting very much as if she hadn't just proclaimed her intentions to go against the advice and wishes of most of her family just so that we could be happy.
"Alright," I agreed easily, fishing out my wallet and handing over the cash.
Edythe added another bill to the folder – again I couldn't see how large it was from my vantage point – and handed it back to the waitress. "Keep the change. Are you ready to go, Beau?"
I nodded and stood up, offering her my hand. The waitress stood back to let us pass, opening the bill folder and making a little choking sound. Edythe didn't seem to pay any mind to her, leading me out to the front of the restaurant without a backwards glance.
The sun had well and truly set while we were inside, and I was a little surprised to check my watch and find it was almost nine already. Sure enough, we'd barely made it to the kerb when my dad's cruiser pulled around the corner. He waved cheerfully and came to a stop right in front of us; I held the door for Edythe again and she once more slid across the back seat so I could get in after her.
"Good night?" Charlie asked, clearly trying to sound casual while also obviously burning with curiosity.
"Very good," Edythe replied, her sweetest smile firmly in place. There was something artificial about the expression when it was directed at my father, an odd, guarded quality. It wasn't the cold, menacing look she had given the staff at the restaurant, but it also wasn't the same as the way she smiled at me. Something warm and happy bubbled up in my stomach at that thought; though I still had absolutely no idea why, I was obviously special to her, someone set apart from other people and not subject to the same careful performances she put on to keep from being noticed.
"Yeah, we had a great time," I said, a little too late to seem like part of the natural flow of conversation, but that didn't matter when her eyes met mine and instantly softened. Feeling brave, I winked at her and she giggled, stifling it behind her hand.
The car was already moving, but my dad glanced back at us through the rearview mirror. "Nothing I wouldn't approve of, I hope?" His tone was playful, with just the tiniest hint of warning.
"Dad!" I protested, feeling my cheeks turn pink.
"Don't worry, Charlie, Beau has been nothing less than a perfect gentleman," Edythe chimed in, such assurance in her voice that even I believed her.
"Sure, sure." Dad refocused on the road, and we all fell quiet for a while.
And so I found myself once again sitting silently in the back of a dark car with Edythe as we passed between the brief flashes of the streetlamps. It was so similar to the position we had been in a month ago, and yet so much had changed since then. Hell, so much had changed just tonight. All my anxiety from the last week had melted away, leaving behind calm certainty. There were still questions, of course, and I was sure there would be for a while. But I was no longer worried about not having the time to ask them.
I reached my hand out towards Edythe, feeling that familiar surge of electricity as she curled her fingers around mine. When light flashed across the inside of the car again, she was watching me with that same soft, affectionate expression, and I gave up completely on any pretence that I wasn't watching her, keeping my focus on the slight twinkle of her eyes reflecting the small lights from Charlie's dashboard and drinking in every small glimpse of her face that the intermittent streetlights gave me.
"Where am I headed once we get back to town, Edythe?" Dad asked after about half an hour.
"Oh, you can just take me back to your place, and I'll get someone to pick me up from there," Edythe replied breezily. "Our house is a bit difficult to find when you haven't been there before."
"No need to get your folks out so late," Charlie insisted. "Just point me in the right direction and I'm sure we'll muddle through."
There was a long pause, and I was sure she would keep arguing, but instead she relented. "Alright. We're right off the highway, north of town proper. I can let you know when to turn."
My dad nodded once and silence descended for about another twenty minutes before Edythe piped up again.
"The driveway is just up ahead on the left, Charlie."
Dad slowed the cruiser right down, and I didn't blame him; there were a few houses on the outskirts of town they were more private and isolated, but I didn't think any of them were this far out, and I couldn't see any sign of a break in the trees up ahead, even squinting into the beam of yellow cast by the headlights. But sure enough, a gap suddenly presented itself, and the cruiser turned onto a thin dirt track that wound through the forest. No house was immediately visible; in fact, we must have been driving for at least another mile before the enclosed roadway opened out once again to a wide clearing ringed by huge, shadowed trees. In the middle was the biggest house I had ever seen in my life. It was three stories tall, clad in white, with a deep porch wrapping around the whole front side of the first floor. The lights were on inside, a warm glow that illuminated the night and cast an almost halo-like radiance around the building. I was no architecture expert, but the style of the house was clearly older, and all the period features appeared to be either original or very good restorations.
Charlie whistled lightly. "Quite a place you've got here."
"Earnest did a great job," I agreed, remembering what she had told me about her father's work on the house.
"He'd be very pleased you think so," Edythe said. "Just park anywhere you like, Charlie."
My dad pulled up near the porch steps with Edythe's side closest to the house.
"Thank you so much for driving us," she said, once again flashing that beatific smile as she gathered up her bag and opened the door.
"Not a problem, sweetheart. Glad to see you again. Say hello to your folks for me."
"I will." She turned her smile to me, a teasing glint in her eye. "Will you walk me up to the door, Beau?"
"Sure." I definitely did not need asking twice, quickly scooting across the back seat and following her out of the car, ignoring my dad's amused chuckle.
We climbed the steps and stopped outside her front door.
"I really did have a wonderful night," Edythe murmured. "Despite everything, I'm glad to have been able to share everything with you."
I smiled bashfully. "Well, thanks for being honest with me. Like I said, you absolutely didn't have to."
"Nevertheless, it feels… freeing somehow, to have you know the truth." She glanced at the door, cringing. "Oh dear, they heard that. It's already starting."
I couldn't help frowning. "Are they really mad? Are you going to be okay?"
Edythe shook her head, her expression calm. "Nothing I can't handle, not to worry. Besides, what's done is done. They can be angry all they want, it won't change anything." Her smile twisted into a teasing smirk again. "But if you wanted to give me a kiss for good luck, I wouldn't say no."
It only took about half a second of mental debate with myself to realise I wasn't nearly brave enough to chance a kiss on the lips yet, but I happily leaned in and kissed her low down on her cheek, near her mouth very much like she had kissed me after the dance. She caught my face as I went to pull away, curling her hand gently over my cheek as she pressed a kiss of her own to the underside of my jaw, just shy of what would be considered my neck. There was something mischievous in her eyes as she pulled away that made me wonder what she was thinking about. At least, I probably would have been, had the entire exchange not made my brain short-circuit.
"Goodnight, Beau," she said sweetly, then, as a sudden realisation hit and my face fell, added. "What's wrong?"
I shrugged a little, answering honestly – no use in trying to hide. "Just thinking about how I'm going to make it to Monday without seeing you."
Her expression turned soft. "Well, who says it has to be Monday? Do you have any plans tomorrow?"
My heart leapt, and I couldn't find it in me to be embarrassed at her hearing it. "No, I don't think so."
"So, if I were to stop by around, say, ten o'clock, you'd be free to spend some time together?"
"Absolutely," I enthused.
She beamed; my heart went from hammering to skipping beats slightly alarmingly. "Wonderful. I'll see you then."
"See you," I agreed, waving awkwardly as she turned and opened the door behind her. I got a brief glimpse of a wide room all decorated in white before she blew me another kiss, winked again, then closed the door and was gone.
I walked back to the cruiser in a daze, climbing into the front passenger seat on autopilot.
"So, second date seems to have gone well," Dad commented as he shifted back into gear and set off back down the Cullens' drive towards the road. "What do you think? Is this the start of something?"
"Yeah, I think it is," I answered, feeling a dopey grin spreading across my face.
I had the feeling that tonight had barely scratched the surface, and I probably wasn't remotely prepared for whatever was coming next. But remembering the feeling of Edythe's hand in mine, her gentle smile, and those warm butterscotch eyes, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I had half a chance of facing it and somehow surviving.
And tomorrow would be just the beginning.
