Chapter Eleven: Conduit
After the thirty-second time his eyes stray to the empty spot on the sofa, Charlie reluctantly announces his intention to leave. Renesmee is as unwilling for him to go as he is; they say their goodbyes with a big hug, and Charlie ends up carrying her out to the car. He tenses when I step in close to lift her from his arms—I get the disappointingly familiar sense that he is thinking violent thoughts—but he but quickly steels himself.
"Tell Bella I'd like to visit again soon—whenever's good for her."
"I will," I promise, wishing I could say tomorrow—and then Rey says it for me.
He gives her a subdued smile. "I'd love to, kiddo, but we'll have to see."
She nods seriously, understanding that her mother might need more time, and waves goodbye, not stopping till the cruiser is out of sight—and then she immediately wants to go find her mother.
"Mommy's still a bit upset," I say, as the others congregate around us.
Rosalie holds out her arms for Rey, somehow managing to block Jacob as she does so. "Let's take some more photos for the album!"
Renesmee balks at the plan for a second, but then lets Rosalie take her, snuggling into the hug.
"Back soon," I promise, waving as I go (amusingly, Rey doesn't return the gesture because she expects me to stay within range of her thoughts).
Deep in the forest, Bella has finally stopped shaking, but she still hasn't moved. Alice waits until I'm seven seconds away to let her know I'm almost here, and even then, it takes my mate a second to react.
She raises her head and gives Alice a faint smile, then looks in the direction of my approach.
Alice rubs Bella's arm, then stands up. "I'll see you at home," she says to both of us. "No rush," she can't resist adding, with a wink that only I witness.
I stop nine feet away from my disconsolate wife, letting her decide when she's ready to stand, but I can't help holding out my hand to coax her to me.
The anguish in her expression eases a fraction. "Edward," she breathes, and it warms my heart that she seems heartened. "I'm so sorry."
"None of this is your fault."
She shakes her head. "I'm sorry I ever blamed you for leaving—of course you left!" I certainly appreciate the sentiment, but I still don't understand where it's coming from. "You tried to explain," she goes on, "but I didn't get it. I didn't understand how it feels to want to kill someone you love."
Awareness floods through me. "Of course you didn't—you didn't know what it feels like to want to kill anyone."
She gives a little sigh. "It's another thing you were right about, another part of being a vampire you didn't want to burden me with. I knew it was hard for you—I knew you fought that monstrous part of your nature to be with me—but I had no concept of how it felt. The anger and the fear and the guilt. Everyone thinks I was brave, but I was never afraid of you. Being with you was easy."
"You did feel guilty about it, though."
"Did I talk about it in my sleep?" I nod. "What did I—no, don't tell me. I already know." She sighs. "I do still feel guilty about that, but there was never any alternative—and none of it's your fault. You've given me everything. You even made my transformation better."
I can't help flinching; I want to believe that, but I can't.
She nods insistently, staring into my eyes with unwavering certainty. "I'll never know if I would've been strong enough not to scream—"
"You were."
"—at the beginning," she amends, letting it go. "But that's all. Yes, it was scary not being able to move, but you grounded me. If you were happy, nothing could be wrong." Her earnestness spares me a second wave of guilt, as I gaze into her scarlet eyes. "You gave me an extra day with our daughter. You did everything right."
Not giving me a chance to argue, she stands and closes the distance between us in one graceful motion, grabs my face, and presses our lips together.
As we make love, for once, our passions aren't my sole focus; my lingering sorrow competes with the lust. If only I could free Bella from the pain of being bound to the monster's bloodlust.
But when she smiles and her whole face lights up, the pleasure wins—all I can think is how incredible she is.
In between kisses, I find myself blurting, "I love the taste of your venom."
She giggles. "I can't taste it."
"I can't taste my own," I agree, then moan as she deliberately swipes her tongue through my mouth, sending a fresh wave of pleasure crashing through me, which only heightens when she tightens her grip on my hair to hold me still, then teases me with another lick.
"I didn't think of it as venom," she remarks. "It's just you."
A deep, possessive sense of satisfaction flares inside me at the reminder that she has never kissed anyone else—Jacob's attempt genuinely doesn't count—and I capture her mouth to claim another kiss. She hums appreciatively, matching my intensity and pressing herself even more tightly against me as we chase our climax together.
The euphoria of our release is as powerful as always, filling my whole body with its scintillating energy. I want more—to dive straight back in while I'm still awash with sensation—but I force myself to still, to think of Bella's thirst. If only she'd hunted earlier… But I think I understand the abstention. More than once, I'd eschewed hunting after failing to banish thoughts of drinking her blood instead.
When I slide my hands from her hips to the ground, she brushes her lips against my cheek in what I interpret as a gesture of thanks, then separates our bodies. We dress quickly, but when I go to head east—towards a large herd a couple of miles away—she catches my arm. We both freeze, fighting the urge to surrender to our mutual lust long after she lets go.
For once, it takes her a moment longer to regain control, but I wait as patiently as I can for her to speak.
"Home's that way," she says slowly, pointing northwest; "isn't it?"
"We should hunt first."
She heaves a half-sigh, half-growl, then lets her arm drop. "If we don't find a deer in six seconds, we're going straight home."
"I'll find you a deer in two seconds."
She flashes a smile, then gestures for me to lead the way—indicating, not coincidentally (I assume), in the herd's direction. She doesn't breathe as we follow the crunch of hooves, the elks' loud snorting. I take down two females, and offer them both to Bella.
She drains them swiftly, already an expert, then smiles up at me. "You are killing for me," she jokes. Then she tilts her head. "You didn't used to hunt like this, did you? Taking down the nearest deer or whatever?"
"No," I agree, "but speed is the priority now, and the type of animal all but irrelevant."
She shrugs a shoulder, perhaps signaling only partial agreement, and my eyes stray to the shapely curve of her breasts. She sees my distraction and the next moment, her arms are around me and her lips on mine.
Nothing matters but her touch. She drags her hands down my back, shredding my shirt and sending sparks of pleasure shooting down my spine and into my core. My hands mimic her actions, seeking out her bottom and then lifting her to unite our bodies. She throws her head back, arching her spine, and her thighs tighten around my hips as she grinds against me. I feel her orgasm approaching, confirmed by her strident moans, and the passion peaks inside me.
When her voice breaks through the afterglow of ecstasy, it takes my distracted brain a moment to realize she'd whispered perfeito. The Portuguese word could be translated in numerous ways, and my unfocused mind flicks through all the meanings I'd like to claim. Perfect. Flawless. Masterly.
She whispers a sweet line from one of the Portuguese poems I'd read to her and Rey, magnifying my already infinite passion, and as much as I want to respond in kind, my lust rules, answering her with urgent kisses down the side of her neck while my hands trap her hips in place.
She hums encouragingly, sending erotic tremors through my lips. I press a little harder, deepening the sensation. Her hands tighten on my shoulders, fingertips digging into my flesh, and the fresh tension inside me snaps.
All awareness of our physical reality disappears. Warmth and power and pure exhilaration sweep through me over and over.
Eventually, Bella's gentle laughter calls me back to my body. When my vision clears, I see her face lit up with joy as she gazes down at me. I tell my hand to reach for her cheek; after a moment, it complies.
"What?" I murmur, my voice sounding strangely husky.
She grins. "You are inconceivably sexy. Perfeito. I love you."
"And I you," I reply, my body still a little slow to respond.
She shifts herself out of my arms and starts retrieving our clothes. I try to will myself to stand up, but all I can do is stare as my beautiful wife steps into her dress. The back of it is all torn up, but the ties at the waist conceal the damage. My trousers have retained enough buttons to be serviceable, but my shirt has been reduced to scraps. For the first time, I have to go home topless, because we just destroyed the spare.
The teasing starts as soon as Emmett sees me. "Deer eat your shirt?"
Bella and I both ignore him, our focus on greeting our daughter, so Rosalie follows up with, "I thought you always have a spare."
Bella nods nonchalantly; through several pairs of eyes, I can see her eyes tracking me as I dash upstairs to rectify my shirtlessness. "It didn't last long."
Emmett scoffs. You ripped it up so you could pretend you did something interesting! "Were you role playing—"
Esme cuts him off with an emphatic shush, then gives Bella a hug. "You did so incredibly well today," she praises.
Bella returns the hug, then sighs. "I suppose it's wrong of me to expect more," she concedes.
Esme laughs. "Running away was the best thing!"
"Charlie—"
"Charlie coped just fine."
"Rey helped there," I say, giving our daughter the credit she deserves, which makes her puff up with pride. "And Sue will, too—she's had plenty of practice deflecting and defusing the frustrations of the young wolves' parents."
Bella nods slowly, and then suddenly grins. "Self-control is my superpower!" she enthuses. "I'm used to not doing whatever I want. I never scratched itchy bites, I never broke the rules—even when I thought they were wrong—and I never asked for anything except books, and most of those I borrowed from the library anyway."
Our family and I enjoy the insight, though Jasper sees it as a further example of her "flipped" perspective: in his experience, such restraint creates vampires who revel in doing whatever they please with their newfound power. The difference with Bella is that she didn't restrain herself out of cowardice or weakness, but out of consideration for others—from a genuine wish to never be a burden.
While Esme praises Bella's selflessness, she secretly teases me that my self-control is considerably more pride-based, then makes a show of looking at the clock. "There are still eleven hours left of your birthday—what would you like to do?"
Bella hesitates, but the others' attentiveness encourages her (I hope) to speak her mind. "Let's go back to the cottage," she suggests.
Rey is the keenest of us all; she has already explored her room and has a multitude of ideas for redecorating that she can't wait to share with Bella and me.
But on our way through the little house's living room, she is distracted by the pretty fire—and then the stack of wedding presents catches her eye. Perhaps to cultivate Rey's patience, Bella insists that we start with the cards, which range from cute to corny. The best one is undoubtedly Renée and Phil's photo collage of Bella through the years, though Seth's wonderful silhouette creation that is a pop-up cut-out of Bella and me hand in hand is a close second. Next, we look through the wedding register of people's gifts to our selected charities (child-focused charities were the most popular), before finally turning to the dozen physical gifts. Vases were the favored option of our older (human) guests, but we've also been given music CDs and a few random ornaments by our classmates. Sam and Emily have given us a wooden flute, which Rey loves—and is able to make sing within a minute of trying. But the crowning gift comes from the Denali clan: a copy of the first illustrated edition of Pride and Prejudice from 1833.
For the first time, Carlisle thinks of Tanya's visit a week after the wedding, bringing this extra gift (they'd already donated generously to the Foundation for the National Institutes of Health) and a second apology. Alice had seen her coming, of course, so everyone except Carlisle had vacated the house, and he had put on his best neutral doctor face when she asked how our first night as husband and wife had gone, responding positively without giving her the details she desired.
My cautious wife doesn't dare touch the precious little tome, directing me to open its cover so she can see inside. The pages are a little spotted from age but otherwise in excellent condition (thanks to its former vampire owners having read it only once each, in 1833, and then storing it in their well-curated library).
After studying the first page, Bella asks, "Is the cottage a good place to keep it?"
Alice scoffs, "It's not that old."
"Older than you," she shoots back.
"What's more impressive," I interject, "is that it's older than Jasper."
Alice and Bella laugh, while Jasper (careful not to let Bella see) bares his teeth at me in a teasing gesture of threat.
Hoping to shift gears before Bella decides she'd like to read for the rest of the afternoon, Emmett tries to propose an outdoor activity—naturally, some kind of tournament—but Esme insists that it's still Bella's day.
Bella laughs. "It can't still be my birthday," she jokes. When Esme won't let her deflect, she says, "I'd like to hear Rey's ideas for updating her room… and then I'd like to read."
Emmett rolls his eyes, but Rey is delighted and the rest of us are happy to oblige. We follow Rey and Bella into Rey's room, and marvel at our little girl's quirky proposals until she tires herself out and settles down in Bella's arms.
For the second half of Bella's plan, we relocate to the secret room; Rey isn't quite ready to vacate Bella's arms, so I point out the piano. It is a thing of beauty, a true work of art—a 1920s Steinway Model A that Esme and Rosalie worked on together, basically rebuilding it back to its original state, better than new, while we were on Isle Esme.
Rosalie cunningly suggests that she and Rey play it for us, which means she gets to cuddle Rey—freeing Bella to read and me to watch her. But we both linger as they start to play, and then applaud their first little duet. Emmett is utterly enraptured by the pair, his impatience and the "suffocatingly small" room forgotten as he enjoys seeing his mate and "their" baby so happy. I give his arm a nudge with my elbow as I follow Bella to the bookshelf containing her select library, and for once, he just chuckles without feeling the slightest need to retaliate.
Bella had revisited Pride and Prejudice the first chance she got (I'd initially been enlisted to turn the pages of her well-read copy of Austen's collected works, but Rey's interest meant I'd ended up reading aloud to both of them—and Alice had joined in, voicing the female characters with gusto), so now she's working her way through Sense and Sensibility. If it weren't for her inhumanly rapid progress from page to page, she would look as she always has, her whole body curling in toward the book, as if caught in its gravity. Did she settle into the familiar position deliberately or subconsciously? I move to a spot where I can see the first few words at the top of the left-hand page—just enough to follow her progress while still having a full view of her face, so I can watch the subtle emotions play across her hardened features. Her eyes flick up, but she simply smiles knowingly and goes back to her book.
Rey and Rosalie—encouraged by the others (most notably, Emmett, who can't help finding a way to turn it into a game, but still enjoys the comparatively sedentary pastime more than he ever has anything not sport related)—play for over an hour, leaving Bella free to finish Persuasion as well, before it's time to head back to the "big" house for the pack's arrival. Rey can't wait to meet them; she considers them part of our family—just like her mother, she sees no fundamental difference between them and us—and is especially excited after meeting Grandpa Charlie this morning. She passes the journey in Bella's arms telling her all about the conversations they'd had.
Back at the house, Rey elects to wait outside in the patchy sunlight. Emmett tickles her cheek, enjoying the faint sparkles that shine on her skin, and the reflected shimmer from his prismatic finger. "It might seem impossible," he teases, "but ten wolves smell even worse than two."
Rey doesn't understand (the wolves don't smell bad to her), but her mother's reaction—a disappointed sigh—captures her attention before she can ask.
Jasper feels a curious mix of irritation, frustration, and sympathy from Bella. "They don't smell bad to me," she says. "They do smell different, though," she adds, either in response to Emmett's disbelief or anticipating everyone's curiosity. "I don't know how to describe it… Like fresh soil and new leaves and sunshine."
While Rey and I and most of our family smile at the description, and Jacob struggles to imagine it, Rosalie and Emmett snort in disgust.
Jasper is the only one who nods. "It reminds me of my horse."
Bella chuckles. "I don't remember how horses smell, but the wolves don't smell like animals to me."
"No," Emmett agrees with a smirk; "they smell like dirt."
Bella growls softly, irritated but fortunately not angry. "Don't put words in my mouth."
He grins, emboldened by her mild reaction. "Soil, dirt—what's the difference?"
"What's the difference between deer and bear?" she shoots back, and he holds up his hands.
"Soil it is," he concedes in a rush.
When Seth, Sam, Paul, Embry, Leah, Collin, and Brady arrive—all in their wolf forms, which means I can see Jared and Quil on watch duty back in La Push—they are no less immune to the depth of feeling Rey has inspired in all of us. Despite having already seen and experienced the 'pull' through Seth, they are all individually and collectively awed by the powerful love and protective instincts she rouses in them.
Embry is still amused that he was right about Jacob finding another 'off-limits' girl to agonize over, but it's not at all how he'd pictured it—mostly because Jacob's imprinting negated any and all worries they'd had about our child—and their protective feelings reinforce his sense that Jacob imprinting actually benefited everyone. He isn't alone in appreciating that it alleviated the strain between Jacob and the pack (rather than adding to it), but he sees Rey as inevitably Jacob's mate in a way the others thankfully don't.
I introduce each new wolf to Rey in turn, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice at the immediate comparison she makes between them and "her" wolf. Although she enjoys the diversity of fur colors, she favors Jacob's color, and she is pleased that he is the biggest wolf—a thought I wish Jacob had never heard.
I try to encourage her to speak aloud, but even now, after talking to Charlie for hours this morning, she'd rather communicate via thought. While our family—and Jacob—crowd around her right hand at her request, she holds out her left toward the pack, stretching out her little fingers as wide as possible to convey the message that she considers there to be enough room for all of them to touch her; she knows she only needs to touch one wolf for the whole pack to hear her, but she'd like to be in contact with all of them.
When Seth trots forward, Leah, unexpectedly, follows; the others—even Sam and Embry—are nervous that Rey might bite them. Seth lets his sister go first, teasing his pack-brothers for being scared of a "baby vamp".
Rey waves her hand toward the others, impatient to 'speak' to them, too, so I explain their hesitancy. She is adorably understanding; though they can't hear her thoughts, she gives her solemn promise not to bite anyone but Jacob. I would have made her say it aloud, but Jacob immediately conveys her message, all too happy to act as her mouthpiece.
It's been a couple of days since Leah and the other wolves heard Rey's thought-broadcast through Seth. There'd been nothing remarkable about it then, but this time, when Leah touches her snout to Rey's thumb, Rey's thoughts transmit on their pack's special wavelength, ringing through their communal mind, strengthening and enriching the connection in a way that makes it feel almost physical. When Seth touches his nose to Rey's palm, the feeling doubles.
The other wolves surge forward, eager to join in. Paul brushes Seth's flank and instantly feels the stronger connection, like her thoughts are directly 'touching' him, too. This curious phenomenon makes it easy for the pack to arrange themselves around Rey (and by extension, Bella) so that all seven experience the satisfyingly strong connection. Rey feels it, too, as though she is touching all nine wolves—even Jared and Quil back in La Push—as well as their 'tenth' communal mind. She enjoys my efforts to describe it to our family, pleased to gain insight into the wolves' perspective, though it makes her longing to hear their thoughts even greater.
Jacob is devastated to be cut off from this feeling, but as always, he does his best to hide his distress from Rey. To cover his sadness, he expresses his belief that she could learn to hear thoughts, too, and the seemingly effortless enhancement in her gift makes it seem possible to most of us. Again, I find myself counting down the days until Eleazar will be here to assess her gift. Twenty-two and a half, if they arrive in the morning…
The wolves all love the idea of Rey 'joining' their pack (Paul jokes that she's a superior replacement for Jacob), but Leah is especially moved—to her, Rey proves that there is more to the world than she understands right now, and that there are other kinds of magic, too, which gives her hope for herself. She thinks of me with genuine warmth, glad that I am what I am.
For most of the wolves, it is also their first time meeting Esme, Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie, but the comfort Rey gives them makes it easy for them to be around our large group of vampires. Collin is bursting with questions for Rey, and curious about Jasper's scars—but they're sufficiently self-explanatory, and the terrifying implication that he has battled countless vampires makes him even more imposing, so he wouldn't dare ask tonight. He considers dashing behind the nearest tree to phase, but I don't mind asking on his behalf, so he thinks for a second (much to Jacob's irritation—even the young wolves not only accept but are happy to exploit my gift), then picks the one he's most interested in: can Rey control what thoughts she shares?
By way of answer, Renesmee briefly 'unblocks' all of her thoughts, bombarding everyone with the little things as well as the primary line of thought she had been sharing. They're all surprised, but intrigued, too, and it leads to new conversations—they especially like that she wishes she could change into an animal, too.
The wolves didn't expect to eat while they're here, but all nine welcome the offer of cinnamon rolls. Their wolf taste buds align well enough to their human taste buds that there's no need for them to phase before devouring two dozen rolls in a matter of minutes. When they encourage me to bake something else, we shift our party to the kitchen. Emmett starts to grumble about the wolves stinking up the house, but Esme shushes him and assures them that there is plenty of room in her minimalist kitchen—and plenty of ventilation to help mitigate our stench.
Renesmee is sufficiently interested in the baking process, despite her ongoing apathy for anything that's not blood, so she lets the wolves pick the recipe—chewy chocolate chip cookies—then climbs onto the bench to help me make it, fascinated by the change in texture as we amalgamate the different ingredients into a thick batter. (Her shock when Collin and Embry commandeer the empty bowl and start licking up the scraps of raw dough makes everyone laugh.)
While the cookies are in the oven, Carlisle receives a call from the hospital—a child has fallen from a second-story balcony and is in urgent need of his skill. Of course, he agrees, telling them he'll be there in ten minutes. It has been several months since he was outside the hospital when an urgent case came in, and the frustration of not being able to dash there in less than a minute makes it harder to prepare himself for this abrupt return to work. Esme rubs his shoulder and offers to drive, which makes him smile—knowing she will drive as fast as he'll let her—and Alice backs up into the hallway so she can look into his future and find the best course of action (as the visions overtake her, I wince at the poor boy's myriad injuries). Carlisle kisses Rey's hand on his way out, grateful for her well-wishes.
The keys for the Mercedes aren't in their usual spot; Esme looks there before remembering having left them in the car after driving Bella and me home from the airport, and I can't resist teasing her. "Take the Ferrari!"
She laughs. "Not this time, Wadie," she calls back.
"Then when?"
"Tomorrow!" she teases, referring to her mid-week volunteer work at the hospital; it's hard to believe she has only missed one week—that all the upheaval of our lives occurred less than two weeks ago.
But 'upheaval' is entirely the wrong sentiment now. Watching Rey, the memory of my fears feels surreal. She has effortlessly resolved all the recognized and unrecognized tension within me, and done the same for each of my family. Though I know the unanswered question of her mortality hangs over Bella and Carlisle, I see the world's most powerful magic perfected in our daughter. There can be no world without her in it.
After several hours of helping me make cookies (and turning her nose up at every varied batch), asking and answering all manner of questions, sharing stories, and showing off her skill with the flute Sam and Emily had given us (which Rey has unequivocally claimed), our extraordinary daughter starts to tire. She tries to stay awake—to spend more time with everyone—but Bella cuddles her tightly and promises she can sleep as long as she likes because we'll always be here. Jasper feels Bella's underlying worry spike, though, so I second her, hoping my confidence will bolster hers.
When Rey dreams, intriguingly, her thought-broadcast widens, but not completely; only I can hear the full extent and variety of her emotions—the others only feel the strongest one or two. She dreams about playing the piano with me (much to Rosalie's consternation), and the little mice run all over the piano while we play. They're not heavy enough to depress the keys, so they can—and do—run anywhere they like, including up and down her arms, making her giggle.
During a moment of more abstract thought, Sam asks how different her mind feels to me, so I try to explain the pleasant sense of 'heaviness' and limitlessness: as her mind expands, mine feels bigger, too—like one day it will encompass the whole world. We all agree that it is our genetic link that makes me so in tune with her mind. I'm glad that Rey is pleased by the extended connection, though Jacob's tactless thoughts make me wonder just how long she'll feel that way when she's older.
"Wadie?" Bella says apropos of nothing.
I look up from Rey's peaceful face, amused by Bella's use of the nickname; then I realize she's asking about it. "It started out as Wade—one of the less common nicknames for Edward. Esme liked the pun in it; because I wade through others' thoughts. It turned into Wadie pretty fast, though."
She smiles, then abruptly frowns. "I remember her nicknames for everyone else—why don't I remember yours?"
"Because," Rosalie pipes up, "she wouldn't dare tease him in front of you."
"She usually just thinks it," I amend, rolling my eyes.
Bella nods seriously, ignoring Rosalie's 'joke', then smiles. "It's cute—and appropriate that it needs a little explanation."
We all start to laugh at that—then collectively freeze lest our laughter wake Rey.
Bella unfreezes right after me, then looks around at the others' anxious faces. "How on earth will we stop her becoming super spoiled?"
Even though I know she is genuinely concerned—and that she might have a point—I can't help chuckling. My out-of-place mirth refreshes her frown, so I do my best to suppress it. "I'm afraid you'll have to enlist Carlisle and Esme on that; the rest of us are too self-centered to see the problem."
She stares me down. "You can't tell me you don't understand it."
"I understand it; I just don't see it as a problem."
The others chuckle, while Jasper watches us curiously: Bella's frustration with me is stronger than he's ever felt; in any other context, he would expect me to immediately break down and apologize, but he knows I'm not so quick to yield anymore.
"She is naturally empathetic," I point out. "Just like you."
"I didn't get given everything I want from day one."
"You weren't raised by a group of highly skilled, experienced immortals who could fulfill your every need without compromising anything. Not spoiling her would be unfair."
The majority of my audience grins at that, amused by the depth of truth in my words; only Rosalie is fully earnest in her agreement. "We would be neglecting her if we didn't give her all the attention we have to spare," she says.
Bella's frown, which had lightened somewhat following my argument and the others' mirth, returns in full force. "That doesn't mean everything should revolve around her."
"Doesn't it?" Rosalie counters. "Before you, our lives were utterly monotonous—" she ignores Emmett's exasperated snort—"and I know I didn't appreciate it at the time, but you brought something new into our lives. Renesmee doesn't just give us something new, she gives us purpose."
Alice nudges Bella's shoulder. "You can tell her all about what life is normally like for a mere mortal, to help her appreciate what she's got."
Bella sighs. "It's that simple?"
"Yes," Alice, Rosalie, and I say in unison, with equally assured tones.
Bella cracks a smile, and then looks into my eyes with love. "You're already an expert parent—I shouldn't be surprised."
Her admiration now reminds me of her earlier compliments, and makes my ever-present desire to kiss her all but irrepressible. Jasper clears his throat, drawing her eyes from mine, and the pressure building inside me abates a little. The others' knowing thoughts are written all over their faces, and Jacob can't help encouraging Bella to take some more 'alone time' with me while Rey sleeps.
Bella shakes her head. "I want to be here when she wakes—and if she's hungry," she adds, clearly seeing through his 'thoughtfulness', "she can make do with some more donated blood."
He can't help screwing up his nose, but doesn't voice his discontent. Leah is as ambivalent as Seth, but the other wolves are still uneasy about Rey's preference for Jacob's blood, so I distract them by remarking on the aroma of the latest batch of cookies (my first foray into a condensed milk-based dough).
Emmett chuckles when I relay their enthusiastic descriptions of the sickly-to-us scent. "I bet the kids at school would've sold their own grandma to get their hands on a batch."
Alice giggles. "Lauren would've just stolen them."
Jasper, Rosalie, Emmett, and I chuckle, but Bella and the wolves are unamused.
My compassionate mate shakes her head. "We should've asked someone to talk to her," she says with concern. "You're too cavalier about it."
I shrug. "When you're a murderer, it's hard to judge someone for stealing makeup."
Rosalie grins—she considers herself a murderer, too, and (unlike Jasper or me) she's proud of it; she got revenge on the men who took her life.
"You're not," Bella insists, distracted from scolding me, and Seth, who had said the same thing in his thoughts (amusingly, in perfect synchrony), nods to second her.
The other wolves are less certain, but given how close Sam had come to fatally wounding Emily, they are acutely aware that killing someone accidentally is frighteningly easy for anyone with our 'advantages'.
Jacob looks at Jasper and blurts out, "Did you kill a lot of people?"
Jasper flinches, then nods somberly.
"Could you feel how they felt?"
He nods again. "Even unconscious, their physiological panic was potent. I tried targeting criminals, drug addicts, runaways, people who were ill and dying anyway, people who were lonely or unhappy with their lives—but no matter how angry or unhappy they were, they were all devastated at the point of death."
The wolves shudder, while Alice kisses his cheek; Seth is distracted thinking about how easily the others touch their mates—will Bella and I be like that in a few decades? When I don't meet his eye, he correctly assumes that I have no idea.
"You helped people, too," Alice says, hoping to prompt Jasper into sharing a happier story.
He smiles, appreciating the effort. "I tried to. Before you came into my life, I was much less successful at it."
"You saved whole towns from devastating fires, and floods—"
"That's quite the exaggeration," he quips, but when Jacob and Collin encourage him to explain, he tells the story of shoring up a dam that he'd found on the verge of failure. He leaves out the part about killing someone afterward, but he feels more upbeat than usual about the success of his efforts to atone for all the lives he'd taken.
Rey wakes before he has quite finished—I get the sense that the sound of Carlisle's car is what rouses her—so she enthusiastically fleshes out the details based on the (equally abridged) story he'd already shared with her, and then runs to the front door to meet Carlisle and Esme.
Naturally, we all follow, and everyone is thrilled to hear that Carlisle not only saved the boy's life but his badly damaged leg as well.
Carlisle spares them the gory details, but makes a point of smiling at Leah. "My experience repairing your leg helped immeasurably."
Leah cocks her head; on her behalf, I say, "That's unexpectedly satisfying," and she chuckle-snorts at my accurate encapsulation of how she's feeling.
The others are surprised when Carlisle announces that he's going back to the hospital—he offered to take the night shift to give a colleague the night off (the doctor who has covered several of his shifts and managed the department over the past week and a half)—and Esme is going to babysit for a patient whose toddler is struggling with being at the hospital.
If the wolves weren't here, Rey would want to go with her, so I'm pleased we don't have to navigate that decision just yet. After seeing them off, Bella asks if Rey is hungry, but she says no—she'd rather go looking for a family of mice. Inspired by the thought of changing a mouse so it wouldn't be afraid of us and could be her friend forever, she asks if our venom can transform other creatures, too. We all picture a 'vampire mouse', and shudder as one. Would its hunger for blood be directed at its conspecifics, or at humans?
"Animals don't react to our venom," I tell her, "so it mustn't affect them."
Why?
"Maybe it's so well tuned to human DNA that it doesn't match anything else."
Bella hmmms thoughtfully. "What if orangutan DNA is close enough?"
The image of a vampire orangutan unnerves us all: if our venom could transform them, it seems likely that humans would be as much of a target as their fellow orangutans.
While Alice imagines biting an ape in the hope of prompting a vision later, Rosalie recalls her decision not to attack the gorilla with relief; if she'd inadvertently created a vampire gorilla, she doubts even Emmett would be able to take on such an enormous beast.
And then Bella says, "If our venom can't affect animals, why do they fear us?"
"Our venom affects humans," Rosalie quips, "yet they don't fear us."
"I'd say that's by design," Bella counters.
The others laugh, but I'm distracted by trying to put together a viable hypothesis for the near-universal reaction of animals to our presence.
"Our scent on its own scares some animals, but not others—cats don't care, but dogs keep their distance—"
Mice?, Rey asks.
"I don't know," I admit, and none of the others has any insight either. "We haven't paid attention to what mice do."
If they aren't afraid, could I have a family of pet mice?
Alice darts over to the doorway to put some distance between herself and Rey, then uses Rey's desire to spark a vision of us hunting for mice—the scene starts out hazy, but quickly solidifies into Bella, Jasper, Emmett, Rosalie, and I herding a mouse towards Alice, who is waiting with a net and a cage. The little creature is thoroughly terrified, even after it's in the cage, which Alice has half-filled with straw and stocked with water and little chocolate candies—so she decides to see what will happen if she bites it. She snatches it up and nicks its back with her front teeth, spitting into the gash for good measure, but its squealing and thrashing seem no more intense than for any injury, and the point is confirmed when she deposits it back into the cage and it instantly quietens as it seeks to bury itself deep in the straw to hide.
Rey watches Alice's face closely as her eyes refocus, disappointed not to see the remotest flash of enthusiasm or hope. Too impatient to wait another second for her aunt's verdict, she all but orders me to describe the vision.
"That's not polite," Bella chastises, but I don't mind that Rey takes my assistance for granted. I love that she already knows I'll always be there for her—and she can see it in my expression.
Without endorsing Bella's reprimand, I say, "Our venom doesn't work on mice, and they're probably too scared of us to be happy as our pets."
Rey sighs, disappointed, so Jacob jumps in with the suggestion of getting a pet fish instead.
"No fish," Emmett declares. "I hate those noisy filtration systems."
"And no birds either," Rosalie adds. "They look so sad in cages."
Bella nods. "We can watch the birds in the forest, and by the river."
"When the wolves leave," Emmett says, deliberately baiting them, "we can watch the owls hunt—they like mice, too."
Rey flinches at the unexpectedly violent quip, and Bella is instantly furious. For a fraction of a second, I consider stepping in front of our injudicious brother, but then her emotions abruptly stabilize, shifting from fury to shock and then back to normal.
She looks at Jasper. "Did you do that?" she asks uncertainly.
"No; you did."
She grins, triumphant. "I really can control my temper!"
He shakes his head, bemused, but smiles along with the rest of us.
Paul, the formerly hot-headed wolf, who has battled with every one of his pack-brothers—even his alpha—is eager to encourage a Bella-versus-Emmett contest, so I try to shut that idea down quickly. "We can't have 'no-consequences' sparring matches—"
"Yes, we can!" Emmett disputes.
"Esme—"
"Esme isn't here," he retorts, "and it wouldn't be the first time we broke her rules…"
I shake my head and direct my attention to Renesmee. "Don't listen to him—he's just trying to make trouble."
Emmett sticks out his tongue. "Don't listen to him," he "corrects". "Your daddy's just scared I'll win." He grins at me, and then tries to defend himself in the face of Bella's disapproval. "It'll be fun."
Bella narrows her eyes in a show of hostility she isn't really feeling, then cracks a smile. "Despite your appalling sense of humor, I'd still feel bad if I hurt you—" he scoffs, and her lips stretch into a full grin—"so I have to side with Edward."
"Yeah, you have to side with Edward," he says dismissively; "that's nothing new. You don't have to be a boring goody-two-shoes."
Bella chuckles. "Is that anything new?"
"You were a badass on numerous occasions—you can choose to be badass Bella or boring Bella."
She just rolls her eyes, so I speak up to defend my badass mate.
"If she were a typical newborn, you'd be in pieces right now."
He scoffs outwardly, but he does realize the error he'd made—and it reminds him to apologize to Rey for his bad joke.
She cleverly accepts on the condition that he agree Mommy is a badass.
He laughs. "Sure, sweetie—she is, if she ignores the nonsense."
"You have zero authority on what's nonsense," Bella counters.
"And you do?"
"I have some expertise in the area," she quips, smirking at me in a way that makes it clear to everyone (except our darling daughter) that she's referring to calling me out on my nonsense on numerous occasions.
Before the jokes turn on me, I change the subject—the condensed-milk cookies are ready. Jacob mentally challenges the "perfect" timing, but the potent aroma when I open the oven confirms it. The sweet, fudge-like treats claim the wolves' attention, finally satisfying their appetites, so I hold Rey's attention by asking her to help me parcel up the dozen surviving cookies (which Sam promises to share with Jared, Quil, Emily, and the others). With the youngest wolves' curfews approaching, it is also time for the pack to head back to La Push, so the wolves nod their goodbyes, agreeing to visit again soon, and trot off into the fog. Seth and Leah are the last to leave; Rey gives them each a big hug and asks them to come back tomorrow—Alice suggests making some clothes for Leah so she can more comfortably phase if she'd like, and Leah chuckles at Rey's excitement, which entirely negates her instinctive urge to decline.
Naturally, Rey wants to start designing clothes immediately, so we all go upstairs to look through Alice's wardrobe. While Alice and Rosalie look for interesting fabrics, I sketch out everyone's suggestions. Rey has the idea of designing a kind of wrap-dress that Leah could tie around herself before she phases, so that she can more easily carry clothing wherever she goes, so we start with that. After assessing the various fabric options, Rey decides wool will be best (Esme will be thrilled!), to provide the stretch needed, so instead of cutting up or otherwise modifying one of Alice's dresses or rolls of fabric, we go downstairs to raid Esme's knitting supplies. Rey picks out a dozen shades of purple wool and then Alice and I teach Rey, Rosalie, and Jasper how to knit (Emmett and Jacob elect to "supervise"). Bella offers to help Rey manage her wool and the intricate floral pattern she wants to incorporate, so Rey lets her away with not participating directly.
The dress quickly takes shape, its long ties dominating the design, which has a minimalist top and skirt to ensure they don't get in the way when Leah's in wolf form. Alice loves it, and Rey soon proposes that we make five more—and when Bella reminds her about Emily and the others, too, six dresses become ten.
Rey starts to tire on dress number five, but she refuses to stop until she is fighting to drag her eyelids open on every blink. Finally, when Bella promises we'll all stop now, too, then start again as soon as she wakes, Rey concedes. To Emmett's disgust and Rosalie's dismay, she immediately asks Jacob to phase, then stretches out along his side, snuggling into his fur and using his triceps (if it's still called that on a wolf) as a pillow. From the others' thoughts, I discover that it isn't the first time she's slept like this, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Bella is smiling, so she obviously has no complaints; when she looks at me, her smile wavers—reading my blank expression loud and clear—but then her lips twist into a smirk and she tilts her head towards the door.