Chapter 19 – The Singer

"Oh, I used to a rambler, I stayed around in the town/ Oh, I used to be a rambler, I stayed around in the town/ I courted Pretty Polly, such a beauty's never been found," I sing happily, walking along a deserted road towards home after delivering food packages for Esme. "Pretty Polly, Pretty Polly, come take a walk with me/ Pretty Polly, Pretty Polly, come take a walk with me…"

The breeze picks up, and the song dies on my lips. There are no words, no reason, no thought at all…just fire and thirst and a wild desire that consumes me. I leave the road and streak through the trees towards a clearing that promises nirvana.

It is, indeed, bliss.

It's only once it's all over that I actually see her. An older woman, skin soft and thin, braided hair streaked with grey. Her body, limp and bloodless in my arms, clothed in a worn cotton dress covered by a canvas overall and with her feet bare. She could be my mother, this woman I've killed. I hold her gently now that the frenzy is gone, looking at her work worn hands and the thin gold wedding band on her finger. Above us, her sheets billow in the wind where they're pegged out on a line to dry in the sun.

Oh holy mother of God…not again.

It feels unbearable. This woman is dead and I've failed again, failed without even a moment's hesitation. Her scent is so compelling that even now, with not even a drop of blood remaining in the body in my arms, I can barely think through the bewitchment of it. What am I supposed to do now?

I can't be found here. Not like this – whatever retribution I might deserve I can't let anything fall on the family.

But I don't know what to do to prevent it. I need help, and remembering Edward once telling me he heard my voice more loudly than most I do something I've never done and mentally shout for him as desperately as I can. I can only hope he hears me.

At least for the moment though, I've got away with it. It's an isolated cabin, and as I open my ears to the sounds around me there's nothing to indicate any other people here. The clucking of chickens, the pop of a fire as the embers shift, the grinding of a goat's teeth as he works on the weeds, but no human heartbeat or breathing.

This won't last though. Below the scent of the women there are other scents, and my nostrils flare as I try to separate them out. A man – maybe her husband? Children? A quick glance at the wash hanging on the line shows some female undergarments and a row of long johns and men's undershirts. It's definitely not just her. I jump up and hurry to the cabin to see what I can find out.

There's not too much to see. It's a small home, a single room with a sleeping loft overhead, and a rough shelter for the goat built up against the side. The furnishings are plain and the windows are uncurtained, but the quilt that covers the bed has been made with care and the table has been scrubbed and the floor swept. I look around and land on a framed photograph on the wall beside me.

Oh no…I'm so sorry.

It's an old photograph. A much younger version of the woman whose life I've just ended, flanked by a serious looking husband on one side and a son on the other, a taller boy behind her and a slightly blurry toddler held on her lap. A family. A family that, judging by the mix of scents permeating the cabin, live here together and could come home at any moment.

"They're on their way." Edward appears, my hair lifting in the wind from the speed of his run. "We have to go – now."

"But can't we do something? Anything? Surely there's a way?" I look at him desperately. "Her family…coming home to an empty house!"

"No." Edward disappears for a moment, and when he comes back he's holding her corpse in his arms. "I'm sorry. I was trying to think of something as I ran, and I'd hoped that perhaps we could stage a house fire – burning the body would conceal the injuries to the soft tissues. But we don't have time. Her husband will be here in moments…NOW, Eleanor!" He gripped my wrist and I had no choice but to run with him, vanishing into the forest as I heard the approaching footsteps.

"She's someone's mama," I say into the silence when Edward slows to a walk. "I saw a photograph in their cabin…she was just doing her wash, that's all. And then along I come and…" I'm choking on the words. "I don't want to do this! There's another person dead, another family are going to be left with nothing but grief and unanswered questions and it's all my fault! Why can't I stop?"

"You can. You will," Edward says. "Think of all the times you've resisted – you're strong and you will get stronger."

"Maybe I'm not strong enough!"

"You are! You have to be!" Edward stops, and his face softens as he looks at me. "It's almost impossible, what we do. But we do it, and you will too – this is a mistake Eleanor. A tragic accident. I'm not downplaying that, but it doesn't negate all the months and months of control you've shown until today and you can't let it shake your resolve."

"I'll never give up and stop trying. It's the hardest thing in the world, but I know the struggle is worth it for what this life has given me…but I hate that people like this woman are paying the price for what I have now." I reach out and take the body of the woman from Edward's arms. "I'm going to bury her now. Go home and tell the others what I've done, tell them I'm sorry…god, I'm sorry!"

"You don't want me to come with you?"

"No." I shake my head and turn away. I want to do this alone.

I carry her deep into the forest, and at the base of a tall maple tree I dig down with my bare hands to make her grave. I go deep, and as the sun sets and twilight steals over the sky I gently lay her in the earth. I smooth back her hair and straighten her dress and apron, and then drape my own shirt over her face, covering up the brutal wounds in her neck. I wish I knew Carlisle's real prayers to say, but with my own inadequate words I do my best to send her on her way and then, as the darkness deepens and the stars come out, I cover her over.

I don't ask for forgiveness.

Back home I go straight to the bathroom, stripping my bloodied, mud encrusted clothes and stepping into the shower. I watch the water swirl around my feet, dark with dirt and flecks of dried blood, and then rest my forehead against the tiled wall and close my eyes.

"Eleanor…my own." Rosalie slips into the shower behind me, wrapping her arms around me and resting her head against my back. "I love you."

Tenderly she washes me, shampooing my hair, soaping and scrubbing my hand and arms and face until there are no traces left of my day's activities. She kisses me as she does it, gentle kisses on my neck and collarbones and palms. I just stand there and let her, my eyes still closed, weighed down with a weariness that goes beyond tiredness.

"It will be all right." Rosalie says as she leans against me, standing on tiptoes and kissing the hollow of my throat. "I love you."

I wrap my arms around her. She feels warm and sleek with the water running over her bare skin, and I nuzzle her face and kiss her before I open my eyes. I know they will have reverted to a terrifying crimson red, evidence of what I've done, but Rosalie doesn't flinch.

"I love you," she says again, pulling my face towards hers and kissing each eyelid. "No matter what, Nell."

"Rosalie." I kiss her back, hard and desperate, and suddenly I'm not thinking about death at all. All I can think of is how much I want her. I want that wild, exuberant joining that we're so good at, I want the bliss of being with her to override the remembered glory of my blood feast, and more than anything I want to feel warm and alive and capable of love more than death.

I grip Rosalie's ass, squeezing hard, and she wraps her legs around me as I lift her to me. She wraps my hair around her hands and tips my head to the side, a perfect mix of pleasure and pain as my scalp stings and her teeth press into my neck. I growl, and my fingers move between her legs. Rosalie sucks at my flesh and then moans, caressing my face and kissing me deeply.

"I want you," she says, her golden eyes dark. "Now, Nell, please."

She kicks at the tap to turn off the water and I claim her mouth again, kissing her passionately as we go careening across the bathroom. Something breaks – the sink, the tub, I don't care – but I don't stop. Still dripping water I sweep her up the stairs and into her room, crashing down onto her bed with enough force that it collapses beneath us. Rosalie laughs, and then we're rolling over, all mouths and hands and slick heat and I forget about everything but the here and now and this beautiful girl in my arms. There's no holding back, just a glorious mix of rough and demanding and tender softness, love and life and everything I want and need.

It will never be enough, but eventually time slows and I lie quietly with Rosalie in the shattered remains of the bed. My head is cradled against her breast as she strokes my hair and presses her lips against the top of head.

"She had a family," I say into the silence. "I went into her house to see…I saw a photograph of them, saw the way they kept their home…oh Rosa-girl, it's too much."

"I wish there was something I could say," Rosalie murmurs. "Something more than that I love you, I will always love you…and you will get through this."

"We don't have much choice, do we? Just keep on plugging away at it…but damn it feels bad to fail when the price is so high."

"That's true. But you've succeeded far more than you've failed, even if it doesn't feel like it right now." Rosalie winds curls of my hair around her fingers, smoothing them into sleek ringlets. "All those weeks and months of restraint aren't wiped out because of one accident. There are thousands of people still alive today because you are capable of control, and you'll do it again tomorrow and onwards. I know you can do it."

I stroke the curve of her breast and watch her nipple harden and rise at my touch. I will never tire of this I think as I take the nub in between my lips and suck gently. Rosalie sighs and opens her legs to me, and with infinite tenderness I take her to the edge and over, feeling her blissful surrender. With the scent of her filing my nose and the feel of her surrounding me it feels impossible that there could ever be anything I want more than this. Maybe this is where my strength will have to come from, the wonder and fulfilment of loving Rosalie and what we are creating together.

"I'm sorry about destroying your bedroom," I say much later, sitting up and ruefully eyeing the shattered bed frame and drifts of feathers from the torn pillows. "That bed is beyond repair."

Rosalie rises gracefully to her feet and combs a handful of feathers out of my tangled hair. "I guess it wasn't quite as solid as it seemed."

"I could build you a new one," I suggest. "Build us a new one."

She bends and kisses my upturned face. "I leave it in your capable hands then. I expect Esme will also want your assistance in repairing the mess we left behind in the bathroom too…I really don't know whether to laugh or die of mortification."

I grin. "Laugh I think." I watch her for a moment as she brushes her hair, and then start searching for some clothes. "I guess we should go downstairs and face the music."

I'm not just talking about whatever damage we've done to the house either. These hours with Rosalie have gone a long way to restoring my equilibrium, but I can't overlook the fact that only hours ago I killed someone and living the way we do this could affect everyone.

In moments Rosalie is fully dressed with her hair in an immaculate chignon. I'm wearing a crumpled pair of sailor pants with grass stains on the knees and a sweater with half the ribbing unravelling, and my hair is still full of feathers.

"We are really not the same, are we?" I say, shaking my head and watching the feathers float towards the floor. "Come on angel-girl." But just before we leave the room I take her in my arms for one more moment. "Thank you," I whisper. "For being there for me, even when I'm a monster."

Edward, Carlisle and Esme are all in the library, Esme sketching and talking with Carlisle as he works on accounts, and Edward deep in a book. They look up as we enter, and I hold out my hands.

"I'm sorry for letting you all down again," I say, getting straight to the point. "I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry, and I'll understand if you're sick of my failures and decide that I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

"Nothing like that," Carlisle says with a gentle smile. "We all know how hard you're trying."

"For all the good trying does," I mutter, sitting despondently on the sofa.

"You've done very well!" Esme exclaims. "Not today, perhaps…but three accidents in all this time is still a much greater rate of restraint than not!"

Edward raises an eyebrow at me. "I also think this one was a little different – wouldn't you say so? Your memory showed it being closer to truly irresistible than anything you've come across before."

"I don't want to make excuses for myself," I say quickly. "It was totally and utterly my fault. I should have done better. I mean, you all do it, it's possible. But she was…even the scent of it was something so utterly…and the taste…"

I clamp my lips closed, feeling the burn all over again. I know, in a deep and shameful part of me, that if all humans had offered the temptations of the woman today then I would be roaming the world a red-eyed monster, no matter what might my intentions might have been.

Carlisle leans towards me. "More than normal?"

"Yeah." I clear my throat. "My control isn't the best generally, I know that, but she was something else. Yeah."

"Interesting." Carlisle taps his pen thoughtfully against the blotting paper. "I've heard of the phenomenon during my time in Volterra. A human who, for no discernible reason, holds an irresistible attraction for a particular vampire. They called it a singer there – it was considered it a rare and wonderful treat for them. Very different for us." He smiles at me ruefully. "It's a terrible situation but, if that was indeed what it was, you didn't really stand a chance."

"I don't know if that makes it better or worse," I say honestly. "I hope it never happens again."

"It's rare," Carlisle reassures me. "I've got centuries on you and never come across one. You don't need to worry unnecessarily."

"We do need to talk about what we do now though," Edward says. "Eleanor's buried her…"

"You buried her?" Esme asks, looking troubled. "Alone? Oh Ellie, you should have let us help you."

I shake my head. "No, I wanted to do it. I took her right into the forest and laid her down deep – she won't be found. I really hate to do that to her family though."

"There wasn't really any other option," Edward says a little apologetically. "I'd thought about a house fire, which would have explained her death and destroyed any evidence, but her husband was about to reach their home and we just didn't have any time."

"Of course, you did the best you could at the time," Carlisle said.

"And the reality is that it's quite hard to stage something believable," Rosalie says. "Our methods of killing are inescapably brutal, humans aren't as stupid as some vampires think, and forensic science and knowledge improves all the time. It's better if we can stage a scene and return a body, but it's hardly surprising when we can't."

"I'm sure the news will come out that there's been a disappearance in the area," Esme says. "We'll have to pay attention to any articles or stories we hear, and perhaps we'll see a way to helping the family left behind."

"There's sure to be attention paid," Carlisle says. "While I don't believe there'll be any way to link our family to the situation, I do think we need to consider our future here."

"You're suggesting we move?" Rosalie says. "But there's no way Eleanor can be connected with what happened today. No one saw anything, there's no evidence, there's nothing!"

"That's true, but even so I think we need to consider it," Carlisle says. "The police and the community will regard this as a disappearance, but it will be the second unsolved disappearance to occur in this area. Again, it's unlikely suspicion will fall on us, but…"

"We don't want to be here when there are any suspicions about anything," Rosalie finishes.

"No," Carlisle agrees. "We don't. And while I absolutely have faith that you will master your thirst Eleanor, we have to acknowledge that there's always a chance that something might happen. A third disappearance could be quite problematic; I think it best we try and avoid that."

"But moving – you'd have to leave everything." I glance around uneasily. "Your job, and you two wouldn't be able to go to college, and all your charity work Esme, and your house…"

"Well it was always inevitable," Esme says. "It's a pity about some of the charity endeavours, but I feel we've done good work while we've been here and there are some reliable people to carry on. Besides, I'm sure there are will be needs we can help with in a new community too. It's best to think of it as a change, rather than an ending."

It will be an ending for some things though. It has to be. The early stages of my farm here can't be taken with us, and may not be able to be replicated wherever we end up. Pat and Kate, and the community that Rosalie and I have only just begun to find…looking at the tense set of her shoulders I know that it's something she's thought of too. But mostly for me it's that this place is, in a way, still home. This is the forest and the mountains I've grown up in, that I belong to in a way I don't think I'll ever quite belong anywhere else. And while I've never been back, I know that my family is just a hundred miles away and that's nothing to my vampire self, but if we move I will have to finally confront the reality that they're gone and I've lost them.