Ch 3 Of Mice and Vampires
"Millia passuum iter uno gradu incipit."
The forest was unnaturally still, the early dawn casting a pale, ghostly light through the thick canopy of trees. The Cullen family stood at the edge of the clearing, a silent, solemn line. Edythe could feel the tension radiating from each of them, each solemnly reflecting on their own experiences as they saw their newest member struggle against his new nature. None of it compared to the turmoil within her. The one responsible.
She should have seen this coming. She should have known.
Beau was out there, alone, in the bloodstained clearing. The remnants of his first hunt, his first lapse in control, lay scattered around him—mangled bodies of deer, their blood seeping into the earth, a stark contrast against the early morning light. The metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air, almost choking in its intensity.
Edythe's sharpened eyesight locked onto Beau's form, curled in on itself in the center of the carnage. His hands clutched his head as if he could somehow block out the world around him, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. The sight of him, so broken and lost, made something deep inside her fracture.
"Edythe," Carine's voice was a gentle murmur, full of unspoken concern and a silent understanding of what she was feeling. "He needs you."
Edythe nodded, unable to speak, and stepped forward, feeling the eyes of her family on her back as she crossed the threshold into the clearing. Each step felt heavy, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her, suffocating in its intensity. She had done this to him. She had condemned him to this life, to this endless thirst, this unbearable need that no amount of willpower could ever truly suppress.
Memories of her own first days as a newborn vampire surged in her mind, unbidden. The thirst had consumed her, turned her into a wild animal, driven by nothing more than the instinct to feed. It had taken years to learn control, years to suppress the relentless craving. She had never wanted that for Beau, had never wanted him to experience that sense of losing oneself, of becoming something else entirely. But here he was, trapped in the same nightmare as she.
"Beau," she whispered as she approached, her voice trembling. He didn't respond, didn't even seem to hear her. His hands remained tightly over his head, his fingers digging into his scalp as if he could claw away the thoughts, the memories, the shame.
Edythe knelt beside him, the bloodstained earth soaking into the fabric of her clothes, but she barely noticed. All she could see was Beau, his body quaking, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes, when they finally met hers, were wild, filled with a mixture of horror, regret, and an unfathomable sorrow that pierced through her like a blade.
"Edythe, I—" His voice broke on the single word, his breath hitching as he fought to speak. "I couldn't… I couldn't stop."
Edythe swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to keep her voice steady. "I know, Beau. I know."
He shook his head violently, as if denying the very reality of what had happened. "I didn't want to—" His voice cracked, and he choked on a sob, his hands dropping from his head to cover his face. "I couldn't control it… I'm a monster."
"No," she said firmly, though the word felt hollow even to her own ears. How many times had she thought the same thing about herself? How many times had she wondered if this existence was nothing more than a curse? But this wasn't about her. This was about Beau, and she couldn't let him drown in the same despair that had nearly consumed her. "You're not a monster, Beau. You're just… you're just new. This thirst, it's overwhelming, but it doesn't define you. It doesn't make you less of the person you were before."
He didn't respond, just continued to shake, his sobs muffled by his hands. The sight of him, so utterly broken, shattered something inside her. She hated this. She hated that he had to go through this, that she couldn't protect him from the reality of what he had become. She hated that she had been the one to make that choice for him.
But the alternative had been losing him forever, and that was a loss she couldn't bear.
She reached out, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close. For a moment, he stiffened, surprised by the contact, but then he collapsed into her, his body sagging against hers as if he had been holding himself together by sheer willpower alone. His face buried itself in the crook of her neck, and Edythe felt the wet warmth of his tears against her skin.
"It's okay," she whispered, her voice cracking as she ran her fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him, to ease the agony that was tearing him apart. "I'm here, Beau. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
His arms wrapped around her, clutching at her as if she were the only thing keeping him anchored to reality. He was shaking so hard that Edythe could feel it in her bones, his sobs racking his body, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. She held him tighter, wishing she could take away his pain, wishing she could bear the burden of this new life for him.
But she couldn't. All she could do was be there, hold him, and try to comfort him as best she could.
"It's so strong," he whispered, his voice so small and broken that it made her cold heart ache. "This hunger…thirst, whatever you want to call it. It's all I can think about. I feel like… like I'm losing myself."
Edythe closed her eyes, resting her chin on top of his head, feeling the softness of his hair against her skin. "I know, Beau. I know how strong it is. I've been there too. But you're not losing yourself. You're still you. This thirst, it's a part of you now, but it doesn't define who you are."
He shook his head against her chest. "I killed them, Edythe. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop. What if I can't ever stop? What if… what if I hurt someone?"
The image of his face, stained with the blood of the deer, his eyes wild with the frenzy of the hunt, flashed in her mind. She understood his fear because it was the same fear she had faced when she was first turned—the fear that she would never be able to control the insatiable thirst, that she would become nothing more than a predator, a monster.
"You won't," she said, trying to inject as much certainty into her voice as possible, even though she knew how hard it was to believe those words, especially in the beginning. "You're stronger than you think, Beau. And you're not alone in this. We're all here for you, every step of the way. We'll help you through this, I promise."
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at her, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with unshed tears. "What if I'm not strong enough?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "What if… what if I hurt someone, really hurt them?"
Edythe cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the tears that had spilled over onto his cheeks. "You won't," she said softly, leaning in to press her forehead against his. "I trust you, Beau. I know it's hard right now, but you're stronger than you realize. And I'm not going anywhere."
For a moment, they just sat there in the clearing, holding each other, the world around them fading into the background. The bloodstained earth, the mangled bodies of the deer, the scent of blood—it all seemed distant, unimportant. All that mattered was Beau, the boy she had fallen in love with, the boy who was struggling to come to terms with the reality of his new life.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Edythe. I didn't want this… I didn't want to become this."
Edythe's heart sank at his words, feeling like she'd just been push and she pulled him even closer, as if she could somehow shield him from the pain, from the guilt that was eating away at him. "It's not your fault, Beau. None of this is your fault."
"But—" he began, but she cut him off, her voice firm.
"No, Beau. You didn't ask for this. You didn't choose this. It's not your fault that you're struggling. It's normal. It's okay to feel like this. But don't ever blame yourself for something you had no control over."
He nodded slowly, though Edythe could see the doubt lingering in his eyes, the guilt that he couldn't quite shake. She knew that this was just the beginning, that it would take time for him to come to terms with what he was, to find his place in this new world. And she would be there for him, every step of the way.
"Edythe," he murmured, his voice so soft that she almost didn't hear him. "Thank you."
She smiled, though it felt fragile, almost brittle. "There's nothing to thank me for, Beau. I love you. And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."
He looked up at her, his eyes searching hers, and for a moment, the pain and guilt seemed to fade, replaced by something softer, something more hopeful. Then, slowly, he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle, lingering kiss.
Edythe kissed him back, and in that moment, life was good.
The afternoon light filtered through the wide windows of the Cullen house, casting golden beams across the floor and furniture. Beau had been sitting quietly for a while, his thoughts swirling in a turbulent mix of guilt, unease, and reluctant acceptance. The memory of the clearing, the scent of blood, and the wild frenzy of his first hunt lingered in his mind like a dark cloud, casting shadows over his every thought. Even now, he could feel the dull ache in his throat, a reminder that the thirst was never truly gone, only dormant.
He could sense Edythe's presence before he saw her, the faint sound of her breath, the slight shift in the air as she moved. She had been hovering near him all day, her anxiety palpable despite her attempts to hide it. Beau didn't need to ask to know why. The truth was, he had been avoiding her eyes, unable to shake the shame of losing control, of giving in to the primal urge that now defined him. He knew it wasn't her fault—she had done what she had to do to save him—but that didn't make it any easier to bear.
"Beau," her voice was soft, hesitant. She was standing in the doorway, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, as if she were trying to hold herself back. "I was thinking... I should go out for a bit. To hunt."
He looked up at her, surprised by the uncertainty in her voice. Edythe was always so composed, so sure of herself. But now, her eyes, black as coals, were filled with uncertainty, her shoulders were slightly hunched, as if she were bracing herself for an argument.
He couldn't imagine why, he was about to suggest the same thing. Luckily, he didn't need to feed, not yet anyways. That didn't mean his instincts were dormant. The leftover human blood still flowing through him sated him an uncomfortable thought he found best not to linger on. He'd be fine, as along as he didn't smell blood, or think about it.
Too late, all he had to do was distract himself, then he'd forget about how his throat started to burn first slowly but rising in intensity. It didn't matter how much it burned, he was in control, his instincts didn't control him, he controlled them. He couldn't fall apart each and every time they separated for more than an hour.
"I'll be fine," he said quickly, trying to reassure her, his throat hoarse. "You don't need to stay and watch over me every second. When was the last time you did feed?"
Edythe frowned, her gaze flicking to the window, then back to him. "It doesn't matter, I don't want to leave you alone. Not yet. You're still so new to all of this, and I—"
"Edythe," he interrupted gently, "I'm not going to fall apart just because you're not here. I know you're worried, but you need to take care of yourself too. I'll survive for an afternoon. Go hunt, please."
She hesitated, her expression torn. Beau could see the conflict in her eyes, the way she was struggling between her need to care for him and the very real necessity of feeding. He knew she was pushing herself, trying to stay close, to be there for him every moment. But he also knew that the longer she went without hunting, the more she was risking her own control.
"I won't be alone anyway," he added, hoping to ease her mind. "The others are here. And it's not like I'm going to do anything reckless. I've learned my lesson."
Edythe opened her mouth to argue, but before she could say anything, a voice interrupted from the hallway.
"Beau's right, you know." Archie appeared in the doorway, his usual easygoing smile on his face. "He's a tough kid. He can handle a few hours without you hovering over him."
Edythe shot him a sharp look, but Archie just shrugged, unbothered. "Come on, Edythe. You know you're straining yourself. It's not doing anyone any good for you to push yourself like this."
Edythe's expression softened, but the worry didn't completely leave her eyes. "I just… I don't want to leave him."
"Then take him with you," Archie suggested, grinning. "He could use the experience, right?"
Edythe's eyes widened in alarm, and Beau couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of the suggestion. "No way," he said quickly, before Edythe could react. "I'm not ready for that yet."
Edythe looked relieved, though she tried to hide it. "Are you sure?" she asked, though her tone made it clear she wasn't too keen on the idea herself. Memories of his last 'hunt' still vivid to them both.
Beau chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'm… not hungry. But you should go, Edythe. Really. I'll be fine."
She studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before she finally sighed and nodded. "Alright. But if you need anything—"
"I'll call," Beau promised. "But I won't need anything. Go."
Edythe still looked reluctant, but after another glance at Archie, who was nodding encouragingly, she finally relented. "I'll be back soon," she said, stepping closer to Beau and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. "Don't do anything while I'm gone."
Beau smiled, feeling a bit lighter as he watched her leave. He knew she was only a few steps away from worrying herself into another panic, but he also knew that she needed this—needed to step away from the stress, from the constant vigilance. She was always so strong, so determined to protect him, but even she had limits. She still had to eat, or drink, neither felt an appropriate description of what all of them now did when they went into the woods.
"Good job," Archie said, clapping Beau on the shoulder once Edythe was out of earshot. "She needed that push."
"I just want her to take care of herself," Beau replied, watching as Edythe disappeared into the trees outside. "She doesn't need to babysit me all the time."
"She knows that," Archie said, his tone thoughtful. "But it's hard for her. You're the most important thing in her world, Beau. She doesn't want to risk anything."
Beau nodded, understanding all too well. "Yeah, I get it."
Archie studied him for a moment, his expression shifting to something more serious. "How are you holding up? Really?"
Beau hesitated, unsure how to answer. He didn't want to burden Archie—or any of them, really—with his doubts, his fears. But at the same time, he couldn't exactly lie either. "I'm… I'm okay," he said finally. "It's just… hard. You know?"
"Yeah, I know." Archie's smile was soft, understanding. "It gets easier, though. I promise."
Beau wanted to believe that. He really did. But the memory of the clearing, the blood, the way he had lost control so completely—it was still too fresh, too raw. He knew it was going to take time to come to terms with what had happened, with what he had become.
Trying to distract himself, Beau wandered over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, his eyes scanning the rows of DVDs. He wasn't really looking for anything in particular—just something to take his mind off things for a while. His gaze settled on a familiar title, and he reached out, pulling the case from the shelf.
"Back to the Future?" he murmured to himself, examining the cover. He had seen the sequels, of course—Archie would be furious to know he'd neglected to watch the first one. It was his fault for assuming, he honestly didn't get why he was so crazy about them. It'd distract his mind if nothing else, just what he needed.
He was still debating whether or not it was worth watching when Archie appeared behind him like a shadow, startling him despite his heightened senses.
"I know you didn't watch it before, I can already see you admitting it." Archie said, grinning as he peered over Beau's shoulder at the DVD. "It's a classic. A must-watch, if you will."
Beau chuckled, shaking his head at how easily Archie had snuck up on him. "I was just thinking about it. Not like I've got anything better to do.."
"Then it's settled." Archie plucked the DVD from Beau's hands and headed for the living room. "You're watching it. No arguments. Consider it payment for your earlier dishonesty."
Beau couldn't help but smile as he followed Archie into the living room. It was impossible to stay too tense around Archie—his energy was infectious, his enthusiasm a welcome distraction from the darker thoughts that had been plaguing Beau's mind.
Archie busied himself setting up the movie, humming softly to himself. Beau settled onto the couch, trying to relax. It was strange, being in the Cullen house. The place was beautiful, pristine, but there was always an underlying tension, a sense of something tightly wound and ready to snap. He knew it was partly his fault—the newcomer, the unpredictable element. But it wasn't just that. There was something else, something that had been there long before he arrived.
As the opening credits of Back to the Future began to roll, Beau noticed someone lingering near the doorway, half-hidden in the shadows. It was Jessamine, her expression uncertain, almost hesitant. She seemed torn between staying and leaving, her eyes flicking between Beau and Archie.
"Jessie!" Archie called out, waving her over with a cheerful smile. "Come join us. It's movie time!"
Jessamine hesitated, her body tense, but after a moment, she nodded and moved to sit on the couch, positioning herself as far from Beau as possible. Archie plopped down between them, his presence a barrier that seemed to ease some of Jessamine's tension, though she still looked uncomfortable.
A tense, awkward silence settled over them, and Beau could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. He glanced at Jessamine, noting the way her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the TV screen as if she could will herself to disappear by sheer force of concentration.
Archie, seemingly oblivious to the tension, kept his attention on the movie, but Beau had a sneaking suspicion that Archie was more aware of the situation than he let on. He was always playing some sort of game, always several steps ahead, and Beau couldn't shake the feeling that Archie had orchestrated this little gathering for a reason.
Sure enough, as the movie played on, Archie suddenly got up, muttering something about needing a snack. Before Beau or Jessamine could protest, he had disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone on the couch.
The silence was deafening, and Beau could feel Jessamine's unease like a tangible force in the room. He knew he needed to say something, to break the tension, but he wasn't sure where to start.
Finally, he cleared his throat, turning slightly to face her. "Hey, Jessamine… I just wanted to say thanks."
Jessamine blinked, clearly startled by his words. "Thanks? For what?"
"For the knife," Beau said, his tone sincere. "I know you gave it to me to protect myself, and I'm sorry but I lost it."
Her gaze softened, though there was still a hint of wariness in her eyes. "It's just a knife, Beau. A relic from a time I'd rather forget. You don't need to apologize."
"No, I do," Beau insisted, shaking his head. "It meant a lot that you trusted me with it. And I'm sorry I lost it."
Jessamine's expression flickered with something unreadable, and she looked away, her voice almost inaudible as she murmured, "It's all my fault."
Beau frowned, leaning closer. "What did you say?"
She hesitated, her gaze still averted. "This whole mess… it's my fault. If I hadn't lost control, none of this would have happened."
"That's not true," Beau said firmly, his voice steady. "If I never stumbled and cut my hand, none of it would've happened either, but it did. Edythe made her own choices. Everything that happened after that… it's not on you. Besides, I understand what you were going through. I'm experiencing it myself now. And I can only marvel at the restraint you had."
Jessamine looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deception. When she found none, her shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension easing from her body. "I never meant to put you in danger," she said quietly. "I've been fighting this for so long, and sometimes… sometimes it feels like I'm barely holding on."
Beau nodded, understanding all too well. "I get that now. And I'm sorry for testing your self-control the way I did. I didn't know… I didn't understand."
Jessamine's lips quirked up in a faint smile, the first genuine expression he'd seen from her since they started talking. "You didn't do anything wrong, Beau. If anything, it was a good thing. Because of you, I've made incredible progress in controlling my hunger. Besides, I knew Edythe would tear my head off before I ever got close enough to touch you." She chuckled softly, the sound lightening the atmosphere.
Beau laughed along with her, the sound lifting some of the weight that had been pressing down on him. "Yeah, I think you're right about that. Edythe can be pretty scary when she wants to be."
"She's protective of you," Jessamine said, her tone warm. "I've never seen her like this with anyone before. You mean a lot to her, Beau."
"She means a lot to me too," Beau admitted, his voice soft. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "And so do all of you. You're my family now, and I'm sorry if I've made things difficult."
Jessamine shook her head, her smile growing. "You don't need to apologize. We're all learning, right? Besides, this is the first time I've sat down to watch a movie with someone other than Archie in decades."
"Well, hopefully I'm better company than Archie," Beau joked, grinning.
Jessamine laughed, a light, genuine sound that made Beau's unfeeling heart lift. "You're definitely quieter, that's for sure."
They settled into a comfortable rhythm, watching the movie together, the earlier tension slowly dissolving into something lighter, something easier. The movie played on, and Beau found himself genuinely enjoying it, despite the occasional intrusive thought about the deer, the blood, the loss of control. For now, at least, he was able to push those thoughts aside and just… be.
"Movies are a lot better without Archie spoiling everything," Beau quipped as a particularly suspenseful scene played out on the screen.
Jessamine giggled, nodding in agreement. "Absolutely. He always ruins the best parts."
Beau was about to respond when he felt a pair of eyes on the back of his head. Turning, he saw Archie standing in the doorway, a warm smile on his lips as he watched them.
Before Beau could say anything, Archie unceremoniously threw himself onto the couch, wedging himself between Beau and Jessamine with a playful grin. "I leave you two alone for five minutes, and you're already talking trash about me. Tsk, tsk, Beau. I thought we were friends."
Beau laughed, shaking his head. "Just stating the truth."
Archie pretended to be offended, but his eyes were twinkling with amusement. "You better stay away from my woman," he teased, wrapping his arms around Jessamine and pulling her into a tight hug.
Jessamine weakly protested, trying to break free, but there was a smile on her lips as she did so. "Archie, let go! You're crushing me!"
Archie just laughed, holding her tighter, and before long, Jessamine was laughing too, her earlier nervousness completely gone. Beau couldn't help but smile as he watched them, feeling a warmth spread through his chest.
The normally somber interior of the Cullen household was alive with laughter and the sounds of life, and for the first time since his transformation, Beau felt like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. Archie was right, he wasn't alone, if they were together, he could make it through this.
The movie continued to play in the background, but none of them were paying much attention to it anymore. Instead, they were caught up in the moment, enjoying the rare feeling of lightness and camaraderie. Archie's infectious energy, Jessamine's soft laughter, and Beau's own tentative sense of belonging all mixed together, creating a scene that was both surreal and comforting.
For now, at least, they could forget about the blood, the thirst, the dangers lurking in the shadows. For now, they were just a group of friends, enjoying a simple movie night together.
And that was enough.
The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the windows of the Cullen house, casting long shadows across the floor. The television, left on after their impromptu movie night, flickered dimly in the corner of the room, the sounds of some late-night horror film playing quietly through the speakers. Everyone else had already retired to their rooms, or left the house altogether, leaving Beau alone in the living room, the silence of the night settling in around him.
Royal had gone back outside to continue working on his car, leaving him alone, again. Edythe was upstairs reading a book and after an hour of annoying her while she did he decided to leave her be. Carine and Earnest were planning to leave on a 'vacation', all the way to Africa apparently, neither of them were certain how long they'd be gone. Archie and Jessamine had left with Eleanor to go hunting, leaving him the only one inside watching the TV.
Right now, it was on some random cooking show, the food looked appetizing but he'd never know how it tasted. Besides, he'd already had a 'snack' today. Luckily for him, his undead body could still drink water, so he didn't have to live with the taste of blood in his mouth constantly.
Even in the low light he could see perfectly, the Grand Piano had already been replaced with a brand new one, its freshly minted keys practically sparkling in their dim surroundings. The floor was already repaired, as if nothing ever happened. Still, he wasn't ready to try using it again, not until he could control his strength properly.
Since his transformation he had a lot of extra free time on his hands, time to reflect, to think. His mind was constantly racing, memories swirling in a chaotic mix that refused to settle. He found himself staring blankly at the TV, the images passing by without meaning, his thoughts elsewhere, tangled in the past.
Then, it happened.
A girl's scream pierced the air, sharp and desperate, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. It was just a sound effect from the movie, but for Beau, it was like a trigger being pulled. The room around him seemed to fall away, the walls, the furniture, the television all dissolving into darkness.
His breath hitched in his throat as he was suddenly transported back to the pitch-black woods, the memory slamming into him with the force of a physical blow. The air was cold and thick with the scent of pine and earth. The trees loomed over him like sinister sentinels, their branches clawing at the sky.
And then there was the scream again—only this time, it wasn't coming from the television. It was real, echoing through the forest, sharp and shrill, filled with terror. Lauren's scream.
Beau could feel his heart pounding in his chest, even hear the rhythmic pulse inside his own ears, yet pressing his hand to his chest proved it was still dead, the sensation existed only in him. Proof that he had lost his mind some time ago. He tried to fight it but the feeling was too strong, his breath came in ragged gasps as he was consumed by the memory. He could see her, standing in the clearing, her eyes wide with hunger and malevolence. He could hear her voice, taunting him, promising him a slow, painful death. And then, he could see himself, a trembling figure clutching a makeshift weapon—a metal rod, cold and unyielding in his grip.
He didn't feel in control of his body as the memory played out with horrifying clarity. His hand mimicked the motion he had made that night, as if he were driving the phantom metal rod into her eye socket all over again. He could feel the resistance as the rod met bone, could hear the sickening squelch as it pierced her flesh. Her scream rang in his ears, louder and more desperate than ever before.
"Beau!"
A voice was shouting his name, but it was distant, muffled by the fog of the memory. He couldn't focus on it, couldn't break free from the nightmare that had ensnared him.
He was lost, completely submerged in the memory of that night, reliving it as if it were happening all over again. The raw fear, the adrenaline, the primal instinct to survive—it all came flooding back, overwhelming him, drowning out any sense of reality.
"Beau, stop!"
The voice was closer now, more insistent, but Beau still couldn't hear it. His mind was trapped in that dark forest, surrounded by the echoes of Lauren's screams, the phantom sensation of the metal rod in his hand. His body moved on its own, lashing out at the air, striking with the force and speed that only a vampire could muster. He wasn't aware of the destruction he was causing, of the TV shattering under the force of his blows, of the walls splintering as his fists connected with them again and again.
Then, suddenly, there was resistance—a pair of strong arms wrapping around him, holding him back, restraining him. Beau fought against the hold, panic surging through him as he tried to free himself, tried to escape the nightmare that had consumed him.
"Beau, it's me! Calm down!"
The voice broke through the fog, and Beau's struggles faltered. Slowly, the memory began to recede, the dark forest fading away, the cold metal rod slipping from his grasp. The present started to seep back in—the feel of strong arms around him, the sound of ragged breathing that matched his own, the scent of pine replaced by the familiar scent of his surroundings.
His vision cleared, and he found himself staring at the ruined television, the screen shattered, shards of glass scattered across the floor. The wall behind it was marked with scores of fist-sized holes, splintered wood and drywall littering the ground.
And then, he saw Royal, standing in front of him, his hands still gripping Beau's arms, holding him in place. There was no anger in Royal's eyes, only concern, and that concerned gaze was what finally brought Beau fully back to reality.
"Royal…" Beau's voice was hoarse, trembling. He could barely get the word out.
"It's okay," Royal said, his voice steady, though there was a slight edge to it. "You're back. Just breathe, okay?"
Beau tried to comply, sucking in deep breaths, but his chest felt tight, constricted. His whole body was trembling, the remnants of the episode still coursing through him. He barely registered the foul smelling tears streaming down his face until he felt a cool hand clasp his, squeezing it tightly.
"Beau," Edythe's voice was a soft whisper, filled with fear and worry. She was beside him now, her eyes wide and tear-stricken, her hand holding his as if she were afraid he might slip away again. "I'm here. It's over."
Beau looked at her, and the sight of her, so scared and vulnerable, made the guilt hit him like a ton of bricks. He had done this—had scared her, had lost control right in front of her. Not even because of his hunger, something that she could empathize with, instead it was his own insane brain, still tormenting him in his new vampiric form. He had almost hurt her, and Royal too.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Edythe. I didn't mean to—I'll fix it, I swear. I'll repair everything—"
"Stop," Royal cut him off, his voice firm but not unkind. "You don't need to worry about that. I just finished tuning up my old Porsche, and I needed something to keep me busy. This'll do just fine."
Beau blinked, momentarily thrown off by Royal's nonchalant attitude. It was like he was brushing off the damage as if it were nothing, but Beau knew better. He had seen the destruction he had caused, the holes in the wall, the obliterated television. This wasn't nothing.
But then Royal gestured subtly with his head toward Edythe, and Beau understood. Royal was giving him an out, a chance to focus on what really mattered right now—Edythe.
Beau nodded, silently thanking Royal for the gesture, and turned his attention back to Edythe. Her hand was still gripping his, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what had just happened. She looked so worried, so scared, and Beau hated that he was the reason for it.
"Come on," he said softly, his voice still shaky. "Let's go to your room."
Edythe hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking to Royal, who gave her a reassuring nod. She nodded back, though the knot of worry in her chest only tightened as she turned to follow Beau upstairs. The walk to her room was thick with silence, the creaking of the wooden floors beneath their feet sounding unnervingly loud in the stillness. Beau's shoulders were hunched, his steps heavy, as if the weight of what had just happened threatened to drag him down completely.
When they reached her room, Beau lingered in the doorway, his eyes darting around the space, avoiding her gaze. Edythe quietly shut the door behind them, but he didn't move. The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy cloud hanging over them both.
She took a small step closer, her voice gentle but filled with concern. "Beau… what just happened?"
Beau flinched at her words, a subtle tightening of his jaw as if the question itself was too much to bear. He swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting at his sides, clenched into fists then releasing only to clench again. His eyes flickered to hers for the briefest moment before he looked away, his gaze dropping to the floor. The seconds stretched into what felt like hours, and Edythe's worry grew with each passing moment.
"Beau," she tried again, her tone soft but more insistent this time. She reached out to him, her hand hovering near his arm, hesitant to touch him until he gave some sign that he wanted her to. "You can talk to me. Please, tell me what's going on."
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he shook his head, a small, almost imperceptible movement, as though he was trying to physically push the memories away. The struggle within him was evident in every tense line of his body, in the way he seemed to shrink in on himself, as if trying to make himself disappear.
Edythe's heart ached as she watched him wrestle with whatever demons were clawing at him from the inside. She knew that look—she had worn it herself countless times. The urge to keep everything locked away, to protect others from the darkness you feared would consume them if they knew the truth. But she also knew that Beau couldn't keep this inside. It would tear him apart.
"Beau, please," she whispered, taking another step closer, her voice trembling with the emotion she couldn't fully suppress. "You don't have to carry this alone. Whatever it is… I'm here. Let me help you."
For a moment, she thought he might turn and leave, the conflict in his eyes so intense it seemed to burn. His breath hitched, his fists tightening at his sides until his knuckles were white. She could see the battle raging within him—the desperate need to protect her from the horror of what he had witnessed, warring with the crushing weight of his need to unburden himself, to let someone in.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he took a deep, shuddering breath. When he spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper, raw and cracked with emotion.
"It was… a memory," he began, the words coming slowly, as though each one was being dragged out of him against his will. "To the night in the woods, when I went to the meadow."
Edythe frowned, stepping closer to him, her heart sinking. She remembered that night, the dread that had gnawed at her when she realized he was in danger, the fear when she'd not known for certain if he was alive or dead. "The night you met Lauren?"
Beau nodded, his hands clenching and unclenching as he struggled to find the words. "Yeah. That night. She… she was planning to kill me, Edythe. She was going to eat me."
The horror that rippled through Edythe was instant and fierce, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to stay calm. Her hand instinctively reached out to take his, the contact grounding both of them in the present. "Beau…" she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of sympathy and fear.
"I didn't know what to do," Beau continued, his voice trembling. "I was so scared, but I knew I couldn't just… let her. I had this old metal stabber—a piece of junk to help me pick up litter—and I… I stabbed her with it. In the eye."
Edythe felt a pang of horror, but not at his actions—at the sheer terror he must have felt in that moment, the desperation that had driven him to such a brutal act. Beau was a kind and gentle soul, knowing he had to bloody hands just to stay alive infuriated her like nothing else. Only hammered home further by the knowledge that it was her fault, Beau felt tainted, like she had for decades. Instead of protecting him from the world and preserving the purity of his spirit. She forced him into it then left him to fend for himself. She was simply thankful he did survive, that he didn't stand aside and let himself die, after the incident at Port Angeles when they first met that's about what she expected.
If it were possible she'd kill Lauren all over, again and again, until she felt that she was sufficiently punished for making Beau so miserable. She didn't pull away, didn't let the disgust she felt for her own kind taint her perception of him. Instead, she squeezed his hand tighter, her other hand coming up to rest on his shoulder, as if to anchor him to her, to keep him from slipping away.
"It was so… brutal," Beau whispered, the memory playing out in his mind with excruciating clarity. "The sound it made when it went in… the way she screamed… I can't get it out of my head."
Edythe's fingers tightened around Beau's, her jaw clenching as she fought back a wave of familiar darkness. She recognized the haunted look in his eyes—she'd seen it in her own reflection countless times. "Beau, you were defending yourself. She was going to kill you."
But Beau shook his head, his thoughts spiraling into a place of doubt and guilt. "I don't know if I was defending myself or if I just acted out of pure fear. It's all a blur now, but I can't help wondering… did I really have to do it? Did I really have to hurt her like that?"
Edythe's brow furrowed, her mind flashing back to the countless lives she had taken in her early years, back when she was a hunter of men, back when she was certain that no creature could be more monstrous than herself. "You did what you had to do, Beau. She was a threat, and you stopped her."
But Beau shook his head more vehemently, the doubt in his eyes cutting her to the core. "I don't know that for sure. She seemed to lose interest in killing me when the wolves showed up. Maybe if I had just run away, she wouldn't have followed. Maybe she would still be alive then."
His words echoed in her mind, dredging up memories she had buried deep within herself. How many times had she questioned her own actions, wondered if she had crossed an unforgivable line? Edythe felt a cold weight settle in her chest as she realized just how deeply Beau was struggling with the same questions that had haunted her for so long.
"Every time I close my eyes, I see her face, Edythe. The fear, the pain... Did I really do the right thing?" Beau's voice was small, trembling. "What if I was too quick to act, too quick to assume that violence was the only answer?"
Edythe's voice was firm but soft as she replied, "Or maybe she would have found someone else to kill. You can't blame yourself for what happened, Beau. You did what you had to do to survive." She hesitated for a beat, before adding, "How is it any different from how you handled Victor?"
She watched him carefully, saw the struggle in his eyes, the war he was fighting within himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with pain. "But it doesn't feel the same," Beau whispered, his voice shaking. "You're right, I've… killed since then, with Victor. But that felt different… I don't know. It still feels wrong somehow. Like I crossed a line I can't uncross."
Edythe's ancient heart twisted painfully at his words. She knew that feeling all too well, that sense of crossing a boundary that could never be re-drawn. "Beau, I know how you feel," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Taking a life, even in self-defense, is never easy. It leaves a mark on you, something that doesn't just go away. But you didn't cross any lines. You acted out of necessity. She was going to kill you, and you stopped her."
"But I didn't just stop her," Beau said, his voice breaking. "I destroyed her. I… I mutilated her. I didn't end her life—not myself—but I made sure it ended in the most violent, brutal way possible. And it wasn't just the act itself… it was the part of me that did it. The part of me that didn't hesitate, that didn't stop to think about mercy or morality. I just… acted. And I can't help but wonder… what does that say about me?"
Edythe looked at him, her eyes full of empathy, and shook her head. "It says that you're human, Beau. Even now, even after everything that's happened, you still have your humanity. You're questioning yourself, questioning your actions. That's a good thing. It means you're not a monster."
"But what if I am, and I just don't know it yet?" Beau's voice was barely a whisper, his thoughts spiraling further into the dark corners of his mind. "What if that's what I'm becoming—a monster who doesn't hesitate to kill, who doesn't care about the consequences?"
Edythe stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. "You're not a monster, Beau. You're a good person who was put in an impossible situation. You did what you had to do to survive. That doesn't make you a monster. It makes you someone who's trying to find his way in a world that's anything but black and white."
But Beau didn't seem convinced. "But I didn't just survive either," he said, his voice breaking. "I… I hurt her, Edythe. And then… and then…"
Edythe watched as Beau's mouth opened and closed, words failing him. His eyes darted away, focusing on some distant point beyond her. She found herself mirroring his pained expression, her own chest tightening with each of his halting breaths. "What happened after?" she asked, her voice gentle but insistent.
Beau fell silent, the words catching in his throat. She could see how desperately he didn't want to say it, how much he wished he could push it all back down. But she couldn't let him carry this alone. She couldn't let him drown in the same darkness that had nearly consumed her.
"Beau, please," she whispered, her voice soft but unwavering. "Tell me."
"You don't want to know, trust me. It's best to leave the past… in the past." His voice was heavy, laden with emotion, but Edythe wasn't deterred.
"I do want to know. I want to help you, Beau, please just tell me what happened." Her voice was gentle, but there was a desperation behind it, a need to understand, to connect, to share the burden that he was carrying alone.
Beau looked at her, and for a moment, she saw the conflict in his eyes—the desire to protect her from the ugliness of his past, and the need to unburden himself. As always, she saw him crumble under her gaze, the wall he had built around his heart slowly disintegrating.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he took a few shaky breaths, forcing the words out. "The wolves… they tore her apart. I was there, and I watched the whole thing. I couldn't… I couldn't do anything. They ripped her to pieces, and I just stood there, watching."
Edythe watched as Beau's mouth opened and closed, words failing him. His eyes darted away, focusing on some distant point beyond her. She found herself mirroring his pained expression, her own chest tightening with each of his halting breaths. "Oh, Beau…"
"It was so… savage," Beau continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can still hear the sound of it, the way her body was torn apart… the sounds she made while she fought back… I can't forget it, no matter how hard I try."
Edythe's arms were around him in an instant, pulling him close, holding him tightly against her. She could feel his body trembling, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a physical force. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so, so sorry, Beau. I had no idea you went through that. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you."
Beau's shoulders slumped as he buried his face in her shoulder. His fingers dug into her back, clinging to her like a lifeline. Edythe traced the tense lines of his face, noting how his brow furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line—telltale signs of the turmoil she'd come to recognize over their time together. She couldn't read his mind but she was getting closer each day. Enough to sense the rawness of the wound, the way it still festered deep inside him. "It's okay. It was a long time ago. I don't really think about it much anymore."
But she knew that wasn't true. She could easily see that the memory was still fresh, still raw, still haunting him in ways she couldn't fully understand. It wasn't something he could just forget, no matter how much he wanted to. It was a feeling she knew well, her vampiric memory had many such things trapped in it, left locked away through sheer force of will. Perhaps losing his human memories wouldn't be all bad, at least he wouldn't have to look so pained while she's left helplessly clutching onto him.
Even If it was only for a moment, she wished to see inside his brain, to speak to his inner demons and tell them off herself, that Beau was a good person, the best, and didn't deserve any of this. She trusted him to tell the truth but knew Beau, knew he wouldn't want to burden her with a problem they both knew she struggled with.
Edythe pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, her expression filled with sorrow. "You shouldn't have had to go through that. If I had been there—"
"Stop," Beau interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "This isn't your fault, Edythe. You don't need to blame yourself for what happened. I chose to act. I didn't have to, but I did. Now I have to live with it."
"But you shouldn't have had to make that choice in the first place," Edythe argued, her eyes filled with guilt. "If I had never left, none of this would have happened."
"It doesn't matter," Beau said, his voice soft but resolute. "I don't care about what might have been. What happened, happened. And we can't change that. We just have to live with it."
Edythe looked at him for a long moment, her dead heart aching with the weight of his words. She had lived through so many decades, seen so much death and destruction, caused so much of it herself. She had come to believe, deep down, that she was a monster—irredeemable, unworthy of love. But here was Beau, so much like her, carrying the same burden, struggling with the same doubts. And she didn't know how to help him, not when she could barely help herself.
She had to try, it was her who dragged him into this life, out of her own selfish desire to be with him at any cost. Abandoning him after she did this to him would be her greatest sin by far, a cruelty without comparison.
"I just… I hate that you had to go through that," she said finally, her voice trembling with the emotion she tried so hard to contain. "I hate that you have to carry those memories."
"I'm okay," Beau said, though his voice wavered slightly. "I'm... I'm dealing with it. Each day gets a little easier. I have to believe that, or I'll go crazy."
Edythe could see the doubt in his eyes, the way the words felt hollow even as he said them. She tightened her grip on him, trying to offer some semblance of comfort, even though she felt like the worst person in the whole world to be saying this. Maybe it'd be better if she had Carine comfort him, she didn't hesitate to help her whenever she struggled. She'd know what to do, what to say, how to make her words sound sincere, for him and herself.
"You know what's even worse?" Beau whispered, his voice filled with self-loathing. "Part of me… part of me felt satisfaction when I did it. Part of me was glad to see the fear in her eyes, glad to know that I had the power to stop her, to hurt her the way she was going to hurt me. And I hate that part of myself. I hate that I could feel something like that."
It wounded her undead heart to speak aloud a feeling she'd known for decades. She knew that feeling all too well, that dark part of herself that had reveled in the hunt, that had taken pleasure in the killing. "Beau, we all have dark parts of ourselves," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "Moments where we feel things we wish we didn't. But that doesn't define who we are. What defines us is how we choose to move forward, how we choose to live with those parts of ourselves."
But even as she spoke, Edythe couldn't shake the feeling that she was trying to convince herself as much as him. She had spent so many years trying to atone for the sins of her past, trying to suppress the monster she believed herself to be. And yet, here she was, telling Beau that he wasn't a monster, that he could move past this, when she wasn't even sure she believed it for herself.
Beau nodded, but she could see the uncertainty still lingering in his eyes, the shadow of doubt that wouldn't be easily dispelled. The memory of Lauren's death was still too raw, too vivid. She could see it in the way he shivered, the way his gaze drifted as if he were still trapped in that moment.
"I wish I could believe that," Beau said softly, his voice barely audible. "But I don't know if I can. I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at myself the same way again."
Edythe pulled back slightly, her hands cupping his face as she looked into his eyes, trying to convey all the love and compassion she felt for him. "You're stronger than you think, Beau. You've been through so much, and you've come out the other side. You're still here, still fighting, with me. That's what matters."
Beau looked at her, his heart aching with a mix of love and despair. He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that he could move past this, that he could find a way to live with what he had done. But the memory of Lauren's death, the brutality of it, the way it had felt so… instinctual—it was a shadow that he couldn't shake.
"You're not alone in this," Edythe whispered, her voice full of conviction. Edythe intertwined her fingers with Beau's, meeting his gaze steadily. "Whatever comes, whatever you're facing—we face it together. You and me, Beau. Always."
Beau's chin dipped in a slight nod, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Thank you," he managed, the words barely audible, fracturing on his lips like brittle glass. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Edythe smiled softly, brushing a tear from his cheek. "You don't have to find out. I'm here. Always."
Beau took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to let her words soothe the turmoil inside him. But she could see the questions still lingering in his eyes, unanswered and unresolved. He had done what he had to do to survive—but at what cost? And what did that make him? The same questions that had haunted her for decades, now taking root in him.
The silence between them stretched out, heavy and laden with unspoken fears. Edythe continued to hold him, her presence a lifeline in the storm of his emotions that had taken them both captive. She clung to him, desperate to keep him anchored, to keep him from sinking further into the darkness. She couldn't go back in time to save herself from those feelings, but she wouldn't let Beau repeat her mistake. He deserved to be happy, whether he's a human or not.
But the shadows of his actions, the echoes of his violence, would not be easily silenced. And as much as she wanted to believe that they could move past it, that they could find peace, she knew that the path ahead would not be an easy one—for either of them.
For now, all she could do was hold on to him, hold on to the hope that they could offer each other, and take things one step at a time. To eternity and ever onwards, they'd either rise or fall together, as long as they were together she didn't care which.
But deep down, the questions remained, haunting them both like ghosts. Would they ever be able to forgive themselves? Would they ever be able to truly believe that they weren't monsters? And if not… what did that mean for the life they were trying to build together?
"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."