Note: I hope everyone in the US had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Here's a little chapter to brighten your post-holiday spirits.
Chapter 79: License to Drive
Beatrice Stevens sat stiffly behind the reception desk, her hands resting on her open Bible as the elevator doors slid apart with a quiet chime. Her pulse quickened, and she instinctively gripped the thin pages a little tighter. There they were—the two people she'd hoped never to see again.
The previous night, her shift had begun as usual at 11:00 p.m., the kind of uneventful start she'd come to expect from years of working the night shift at the hotel. It was typically a time of peace, where she could sit undisturbed, immersed in her scriptures. The lobby rarely saw much activity, save for the occasional weary traveler or the steady hum of the vending machine near the corner. But last night had been different.
It was just past midnight when the glass entry doors had slid open, and those two had walked in. Even now, Beatrice could recall the immediate sense of unease that had gripped her. The man had an effortless elegance about him, with sharp features and an immaculate appearance that reminded her of those scandalous magazine ads. His unusual tousled copper hair and piercing eyes had an unnatural perfection that didn't seem entirely real. The woman beside him was no less striking, with flawless skin and a figure Beatrice might have envied—if she were prone to such feelings. Their good looks only made them seem more out of place, like they belonged in New York or LA—or really, any godless part of the country—not in a budget hotel lobby at midnight.
She'd done her best to remain polite, though her discomfort grew with every word they spoke. It was the woman who had asked for a room, her tone pleasant but edged with something Beatrice couldn't quite name. The gleam in her eyes and the smile on her face set every one of Beatrice's instincts on edge. She couldn't help but notice they carried no luggage. Beatrice had hesitated, her sense of duty warring with her unease. She had no legal reason to deny them, but in her heart, she'd wanted to.
It wasn't just their appearance; it was the implication. A young, attractive couple with no bags, asking for a room in the dead of night—it wasn't hard to guess their intentions. Beatrice had forced herself not to dwell on it, though the thought made her cheeks burn. She'd told herself they might have any number of innocent reasons for being here, but deep down, she hadn't believed it. They were most likely using her hotel as a place to… sin, and the knowledge weighed on her conscience. Still, she'd checked them in, assigning them a room on the fourth floor, because the law didn't allow her to do otherwise.
After they disappeared into the elevator, she had tried to put the encounter out of her mind, returning to her scriptures for comfort. Reading the holy words brought her solace in these turbulent times, a tether to sanity when the world outside seemed to be unraveling. Rumors had been swirling in her Bible group about the end of days, with the arrival of false prophets and the chaos that would follow. Beatrice wasn't sure if she believed it, but she prayed daily for it not to be true, for the world to hold together just a little longer.
All had been quiet until the phone on her desk buzzed with a noise complaint from the fourth floor. Beatrice had answered with her usual professionalism, taking down the guest's grievances with a calm nod, though inwardly, she sighed. It wasn't unusual for hotels to have the occasional disturbance—it was, after all, a space where people from all walks of life converged—but she had hoped the matter would resolve itself without her intervention.
For about thirty minutes, it seemed her prayers had been answered. Then the phone rang again, this time from another guest, and he sounded even angrier. Another complaint about noise from the same floor, this time more specific—thuds, crashes, and what the guest described as "an unholy racket." Beatrice gripped the receiver tighter, wishing the issue had chosen to crop up on someone else's shift.
Reluctantly, she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor, her Bible snug in her grip as if it could shield her from whatever awaited her upstairs. The hum of the elevator was steady, unbothered, and when the doors slid open, the corridor ahead was empty and quiet. She exhaled, hoping the issue might have resolved itself. After all, if it was what she thought, the acts of two sinners couldn't possibly last forever.
She walked down the hallway, her low heels clicking against the carpeted floor. But just before she reached room 421, a sudden crash echoed through the hall. Beatrice froze, her breath catching, before quickening her steps to the door. Her hand hovered over the wood, preparing to knock, but before she could, a woman's scream pierced the silence.
What Beatrice heard made her stomach churn. The words spilling from the woman's mouth were the most sinful, debased things she had ever heard. Her cheeks flamed as though she'd been physically struck. She could hardly process the lust-drenched cries and wanton moans that followed, each one crawling under her skin and making her feel as though the filth might cling to her soul just from proximity. Heathens. Her hand fell back to her side, trembling, and her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her in a near-sprint back toward the elevator. Another crash rang out from inside the room just as the doors slid closed behind her.
The rest of the night became a test of endurance. Complaints continued to trickle in from the fourth floor—some even from the fifth. Each one more pointed than the last, but Beatrice refused to leave the sanctity of her lobby until it was safe. She apologized profusely to the frustrated guests over the phone, promising to comp their stays in the morning. What else could she do? She wasn't about to step back onto that elevator—not with the kind of activity taking place in room 421.
Now, as the morning light poured through the lobby's glass doors, the culprits themselves had reappeared. Beatrice's grip on the Bible tightened as she watched them approach. They moved with an unnatural grace, as if they had nothing in the world to be ashamed of. The woman reached the desk first, her bright smile practically dazzling, her hand holding out the room's two key cards as though they'd done nothing wrong.
The man followed close behind, his tall frame and strikingly good looks offset by a goofy, lopsided grin. Beatrice stared at them, bewildered. Their looks bordered on otherworldly, their perfection unsettling in a way she couldn't quite explain.
They didn't look tired, though by all accounts, they'd been up all night. She didn't want to think about the condition of the room. She couldn't help but wonder if they were on drugs.
The woman leaned forward, sliding the key cards across the counter, her smile unwavering. Beatrice hesitated, her lips pressed tightly together as she eyed the cards on the counter. Her usual professionalism warred with the memory of those screams, the crashes, the moans from this woman that had haunted her all night long. She didn't trust herself to speak just yet, afraid her voice might betray her disapproval.
"Hello, we'd like to check out. I'm very sorry, but I also need to report some damage to our room." The woman's voice was pleasant, almost cheerful, as if she were relaying the weather rather than admitting to breaking hotel property. Her smile widened, a touch of sheepish charm softening her features. "I, ah… tripped."
She let out a light laugh, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Yes, I'm sorry, but I'm a real klutz, and unfortunately, several things broke. I completely understand that my card will need to be charged for the damages. Again, we're very sorry."
Beatrice stared at her, her grip tightening on the edge of the desk. The words sounded polished—rehearsed, even—and Beatrice didn't believe her for a second. She gave the woman a closer look, her eyes narrowing slightly. The woman's clothing was noticeably rumpled, and an unusual stain ran in a line above her chest. It looked as though something corrosive had leached the color out of the fabric. Similar blotches dotted her collar. Despite the woman's bright demeanor, Beatrice couldn't shake the impression that something was… off.
Still, she'd been working at the hotel for five years, and her training took over. She pasted on a polite smile and spoke with the practiced professionalism that came from countless interactions with problem guests. "Thank you for letting us know. We hope your stay was a pleasant one."
Inside, she heaved a sigh. Whatever mess these two had left behind, it was now her responsibility. Her stomach turned at the thought of what awaited her in room 421. She hoped they hadn't left behind any drug paraphernalia. She'd need gloves for the inspection regardless. Silently, she prayed it would be nothing worse than a broken lamp or an overturned chair, though remembering the crash she'd heard as the elevator doors closed last night, she had her doubts.
The man, who had been quietly watching the exchange, suddenly spoke up. "We had the best night's sleep ever," he said, his tone overly enthusiastic. "The bed was very comfortable. You have a really nice establishment here. Honestly, it's one of the nicest hotels I've ever stayed in."
Beatrice glanced at him, trying to gauge his sincerity, but his lopsided grin didn't help. If anything, it made his words feel like part of some private joke shared between the two of them. His eyes flicked to the woman beside him, and she returned his gaze with a knowing smile, a silent exchange that only deepened Beatrice's suspicions. What was with these two?
She nodded briskly, printing out their receipt and sliding it across the counter. The woman picked up the pen and scrawled her signature quickly, her movements smooth and assured. Beatrice noted she didn't even hesitate before signing off on the damages, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to acknowledge breaking hotel property.
"Thank you," the woman said brightly, returning the paper and pen. Beatrice murmured a polite response, watching them both carefully as they turned to leave.
They didn't even head toward the parking area. Instead, they strode straight though the automatic doors and out onto the street, their steps unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world. Beatrice craned her neck slightly to watch them go, confusion flickering through her. Who checks into a hotel without bags or transportation? They certainly weren't locals—she would've remembered faces like theirs.
She shook her head, muttering under her breath as she reached for the receipt. Marie Smith… and unknown John... What had the world come to? Degenerates everywhere she looked. Maybe these really were the end times.
Beatrice called Jeremie over to man the front desk, her voice tight with barely concealed frustration. She didn't want to see what those two had done to room 421, but she had no choice. With a reluctant sigh, she grabbed the key card and made her way upstairs.
Sliding the card into the lock, she hesitated for just a moment before pushing the door open. The sight that greeted her made her gasp aloud. The room had been completely trashed.
"What in heaven's name…" she muttered, stepping inside, her gloved hand flying to her chest. What had those two been doing?
"Tripped, my fanny," she scoffed under her breath, her eyes scanning the wreckage. The bed was completely ruined, the frame splintered and sagging at odd angles. The headboard was cracked, and there appeared to be damage to the wall behind it. To top it off, the bedding was covered in more blotchy stains that seemed eerily similar to the ones on the woman's shirt. Had they been doing something untoward with bleach? Whatever it was, everything would have to be thrown out.
She turned, her eyes landing on the large armchair near the corner. Every leg had broken off, and one armrest looked partially detached. She gasped again when her gaze shifted to the TV mounted on the wall. The screen was shattered, with shards of glass scattered across the floor like a warning. Beatrice's stomach clenched. Had one of them… done a header into it? She thanked God there weren't any visible bloodstains, but the idea still made her queasy.
Heaving a deep sigh, she shook her head and continued her inspection. The damage wasn't just cosmetic. The room would be out of commission for weeks, maybe longer, and she could already hear her manager's disapproval ringing in her ears.
With a growing sense of dread, she turned toward the bathroom. She didn't want to go in, but her job demanded it. Bracing herself, she stepped inside and froze. The shower was a mess. A significant portion of the bathtub tiles were cracked, and many had fallen off entirely, exposing the wall beneath. Beatrice stared, struggling to make sense of it. What could they have possibly been doing to cause this? Her mind veered toward thoughts she didn't want to entertain, and she quickly backed out of the bathroom, her heart pounding.
Just as she was about to leave, she glanced upward—and her breath caught in her throat. A section of the ceiling was damaged. A perfect, circular indent about a foot wide had been pushed up into the plaster. Beatrice squinted, her mouth falling open in disbelief. It almost looked like… like someone's rear end had been driven into the ceiling.
"Heathens," she whispered, her voice trembling as she took a shaky step back. She turned on her heel and hurried toward the elevator, jabbing the button repeatedly, praying for the doors to open faster.
As the elevator whisked her back down to the lobby, Beatrice leaned against the wall, her pulse racing. Her thoughts spiraled. She was seriously considering quitting. Five years on the job, and she had never seen anything like this. Monsters roamed the world, of that she was certain, and those two were monsters of the first order. They might have looked wholesome, with their polite smiles and well-spoken words, but as the leader of her Bible group often said, "Not all that glitters is gold."
Bella browsed the racks, her fingers skimming over the fabrics as she searched for something that caught her eye. A tasteful light blue blouse caught her attention, and she held it up, tilting her head as she pictured herself in it. Would the color suit her? The soft material seemed to complement her pale complexion, but she wasn't sure. She was still turning it over in her hands when Edward appeared beside her, a grin lighting up his face.
"Here," he said, holding out a shirt with a boyish enthusiasm that made her smile. "Try this one. I think it'll look amazing on you."
Bella raised an eyebrow as she took the shirt from him. It was a long-sleeved white shirt with no buttons, and just by looking at it, she could already tell it would fit pretty snugly on her. She glanced up at Edward, but his smile was so wide and his eyes so full of anticipation that she didn't have the heart to disappoint him. Turning the shirt over in her hands again, she studied it in more detail. She had to admit that, while simple, it did have a certain stylish appeal. "Not bad," she admitted, her lips curving into a grin of her own as she looked back at him. "Alright, let's go see how it looks."
As they walked toward the dressing rooms, Bella glanced at Edward's new clothes. They'd already picked out a snug-fitting black long-sleeved shirt for him, which hugged his frame in all the right ways. The dark fabric emphasized the cut of his shoulders and the lean lines of his torso, and she wasn't going to pretend she didn't enjoy the view. His jeans were standard blue denim, but they fit well, and his new white running sneakers completed the look. Vampires were notoriously hard on shoes when they ran full-out, and Edward was no exception. Being the fastest vampire she'd ever encountered, he burned through footwear faster than anyone she knew.
"You're really pulling off the 'casually devastating' look," she teased as they approached the women's dressing room. "If we're not careful, people are going to start asking for your autograph."
Edward laughed softly, his gaze warm as he followed her into the quieter section of the store. Bella paused just outside the dressing room area, her head tilting slightly as she listened for any signs of other customers. When she didn't pick up any heartbeats nearby, she gave Edward a playful wave. "Alright, come on in. But wait out here," she added, pointing firmly to the bench just outside the dressing stalls.
Edward leaned casually against the wall, watching as Bella gathered her clothes to try on. "No free peeks," she warned, a teasing lilt in her voice as she stepped into the cubicle. "Besides, we can't exactly afford to lose ourselves in public places… well, at least not today." She leaned around the door to flash him a mischievous grin. "I'd like to make it to Carlisle's before nightfall, and that's not happening if we get arrested for public indecency."
Closing the door to the changing area, Bella slipped into her customary pair of blue jeans, a staple she'd relied on for decades. Perfect fit, as always. Thankfully, her waist size had been delightfully stable these past few years. She smirked, giving her flat stomach a couple of playful love taps before turning her attention to the shirt Edward had picked out for her.
"You realize, Edward," she called out, holding the fabric up with an arched brow, "I can't wear a bra with this one, right?"
From just outside the dressing cubicle, she heard his reply, his voice laced with mock innocence. "Really?" She could practically see the grin spreading across his face, the playful glint in his eyes as he leaned casually against the wall.
Bella laughed softly, shaking her head as she slipped the shirt on. It was snug, hugging her figure and showcasing her breasts with a bit more prominence than she usually preferred. She turned toward the full-length mirror, tilting her head as she took in the reflection. Luckily, there was no sag to be seen despite her advanced years. The shirt looked good—better than she'd expected, if she were honest. Simple but flattering. She turned slightly, first left, then right, inspecting the way the soft fabric clung to her frame.
The neckline was more daring than she'd initially noticed, a deep scoop that left a generous portion of her collarbone exposed without dipping into actual cleavage. But her sharp eyes caught something new. Something that hadn't been on her body until last night.
The bite marks. Edward's bite marks.
The faint impressions he'd left on her skin were clearly visible in this shirt. This was the first time she'd really stopped to notice them, and her lips quirked into an amused smile. They were subtle enough to go unnoticed by humans, but to a vampire, they might as well have been a flashing neon sign that read, taken—move along. Bella's smile grew wider. She had a sneaking suspicion this was one of the reasons Edward had liked the shirt so much.
Her fingers brushed over the delicate marks, her smile deepening. She liked them. She liked even more the marks she'd left on Edward's body. It pleased her that Edward's once-flawless skin now bore her imprint—a subtle reminder that made him all the more hers. Her grin widened as she turned back to the mirror, adjusting the shirt one last time.
She opened the door and found Edward waiting, his eyes lighting up as they met hers. "What do you think?" Bella asked, giving him a playful spin so he could see her from every angle.
Edward's gaze followed her movement, captivated. The snug shirt and jeans suited her perfectly, but it was the faint marks on her neck that drew his attention. They looked exactly as he'd imagined, subtle yet unmistakable, and seeing them sent a wave of satisfaction through him. His smile widened as he met her expectant eyes. "You look perfect, Bella. I love it."
Bella grinned, pleased. "That's good enough for me." She quickly transferred her wallet, phone, and Starshield mask into the pockets of her new jeans. At the same time, she handed her soiled clothes to Edward, who held a bag destined for the trash.
The store clerk had already assured them they could wear their new purchases out as long as they brought the tags to the register, and Bella appreciated the small-town flexibility. It was one of the reasons she loved shopping in mom-and-pop stores—the personalized service and friendly atmosphere made the experience so much more enjoyable.
Minutes later, they stepped outside, the afternoon sunlight breaking through Washington's famously overcast skies. Bella took a deep breath, savoring the crisp, clean air. For a moment, everything felt peaceful. The soft rustle of nearby trees mingled with the distant hum of passing cars, and the world seemed to slow just enough for her to soak it all in.
Knowing it was a little under 200 miles to Spokane, Bella had been mulling over an idea she thought Edward might enjoy. She glanced at him, her expression curious. "I know we could get to Carlisle's quickly by running, but I was wondering if you'd like to rent a car and maybe... relearn how to drive?" She paused, tilting her head as a thought occurred to her. "You did know how to drive before, right?"
Edward's lips quirked into a smile, her question stirring a memory he hadn't revisited in years. "I did," he replied, his voice warm with nostalgia. "My father taught me on our Model T. I still remember the feel of it, the way the gears clicked when you shifted." His smile softened as he continued, "It's actually one of the few vivid memories I have of him." He paused, then added with a touch of humor, "But I haven't driven since... well, since my change. Cars were very different back then."
"So, you're saying you're a little out of practice," Bella teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
Edward laughed, the sound low and rich. "A bit. But I'd very much like to relearn. It sounds fun—thank you for suggesting it."
Her grin widened, pleased by his enthusiasm. Pulling out her phone, Bella quickly searched for a nearby car rental agency and found an Enterprise just a few blocks away. She showed him the route, and as soon as they had their bearings, Edward extended his arm to her with a slight bow, his old-fashioned charm impossible to miss.
Bella rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling as she looped her arm through his. They set off at an easy pace, the sun breaking through the clouds overhead. The streets were lively but not crowded, and as they walked together, their conversation flowed easily, their laughter ringing out now and then, adding warmth to the day.
After all the paperwork was signed, the rental agent handed Edward the keys to a sleek new Nissan Maxima. The moment they found the car in the lot, his eyes lit up. It was exactly what he'd hoped for—sleek, sporty, and finished in a smooth black that gleamed in the sunlight. He ran his hand along the car's exterior, tracing the curve of the hood with an almost reverent touch, then flashed Bella a bright smile. Opening the door and sliding into the driver's seat, he felt a strange thrill, like stepping into a new world.
Edward settled into the seat, his posture molding to the smooth leather. As he surveyed the interior, his eyes widened. There were buttons everywhere, and where there weren't buttons, there were flat panels. Was that... a television? He had to admit he had no idea what he was doing. His fingers hovered uncertainly over the center console, but no flash of insight came to him. He glanced down at the keys they'd handed him—except there wasn't even a key.
Bella leaned back in the passenger seat, watching Edward. She was starting to wonder if this had been a good idea. Edward hadn't driven a car in over a century... Still, she reasoned, vampires were fast learners, and if anyone could figure this out quickly, it was him.
She caught him staring at the key fob, turning it over in his hands as if it might reveal some hidden secret. "There's no key, Bella? How do I start the car?"
Bella smirked, biting back a laugh. She knew Edward had every reason to be clueless about modern technology, but seeing him puzzled over a keyless ignition was too good. "Here," she said, popping open the glove compartment and pulling out the owner's manual. "Read this. It'll tell you everything you need to know."
Edward accepted the booklet with a grateful nod and flipped through it at vampire speed, his eyes scanning the pages so fast they blurred. When he was done, he set the manual aside and confidently pressed the start button. The engine purred to life, and he turned to Bella with a satisfied smile.
"Alright," he said, his voice steady. "I think I've got the basics down. I did watch Kate drive when we went back to Anchorage, so I'm pretty sure I know the rules of the road. But if you see me doing anything wrong, please speak up."
Bella nodded encouragingly. "You've got this," she said, though a flicker of apprehension lingered in her mind.
Edward shifted the car into drive and gently pressed the gas—or at least, he thought it was gentle. The car lurched forward, as if startled, but thankfully, Edward's even faster reflexes kicked in. He slammed on the brakes, bringing it to a jerking halt just inches from the parked cars in front of them.
Bella's hands shot out, gripping the dashboard as she let out a startled gasp. Edward turned to her sheepishly, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Whoops," he said, his voice tinged with humor. "I guess I need to be a little more... gentle with the gas. The manual didn't exactly explain how much pressure to apply."
Bella knew she'd need to be on high alert during Edward's maiden voyage behind the wheel. Her shield was ready, just in case she needed to step in and prevent a disaster—like hitting another car, or worse, a person. "Let's start slow," she suggested, her tone calm but firm. "Practice going around the parking lot a couple of times to get the hang of it, and then we can head out."
She watched him carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly every time his hands shifted on the wheel. But after that initial hiccup, Edward took to driving like he'd been doing it for decades. He quickly adjusted, his movements smooth and precise as the car glided around the lot. Before long, he was confidently pulling onto the road, heading toward Spokane.
Bella glanced at him, noticing the way his grip on the wheel had eased and the relaxed curve of his lips. "So," she began, a playful note in her voice, "how do you like driving a new car? I'd guess it's a little different from the last one you drove."
Edward turned to her briefly, his eyes glinting with amusement, before refocusing on the road. The big smile that spread across his face was answer enough. "You can say that again," he said, his tone light. "Our Model T certainly didn't have a disembodied voice giving us directions." He gestured toward the nav computer, where he had already entered Carlisle's address, and it was now calmly guiding them turn by turn. "Did you know that when it rained, I had to swipe the windshield wiper manually? By hand—back and forth. It was an optional accessory back then, and I remember my father being proud we had it. We were the first family on our street to own a car with that feature."
Bella laughed softly, picturing Edward leaning out of a car window, manually wiping a windshield during a storm. "I can't decide if that sounds charming or ridiculous," she teased, her lips curving into a playful grin. "You're definitely upgrading."
Edward chuckled, the sound low and warm, as his gaze briefly flicked to her before returning to the road. Her smile relaxed him, and for a moment, his mind drifted back to those distant memories. He wondered what his father would think of him driving this sleek beauty. He couldn't recall his father clearly—the edges of his memories were faded—but he remembered the man's love for automobiles. They always had one, as far back as he could remember, and his father had treated their cars with the same care as a prized heirloom.
The thought lingered as they merged onto the highway, the hum of the engine steady and reassuring. Edward's hands remained steady on the wheel, his confidence growing with each passing mile.
Now comfortably on the highway, Edward eased into the rhythm of driving. He pressed the accelerator, and soon they were cruising at 75 mph down a stretch of road marked Interstate 90. The hum of the engine beneath him was steady and reassuring, but his mind couldn't help marveling at how much the world had changed. Roads were everywhere now, crisscrossing the landscape like veins. Back when he'd been free in the late '20s, once you left the city, you could go for hundreds of miles without seeing another road, save for the few major ones that linked cities together.
Now, when traveling on foot, he and Bella had to stop constantly to check for passing cars before crossing roadways. It was a strange irony—the world had opened up to them in ways he'd never imagined, yet it somehow felt smaller, more confined.
The highway stretched out before them in a near-perfect line, cutting through rolling hills and scattered forests. The simplicity of the drive was calming, and Edward took one hand off the steering wheel, reaching across the console to Bella. She glanced at him, her lips curving into a soft smile as she quickly laced her fingers with his. He breathed deeply, a wave of serenity washing over him. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt utterly content and truly at peace.
His gaze flicked between the road and Bella, his mind drifting to the night they'd just shared. It still didn't seem real, everything they'd done together. He couldn't stop replaying it, every detail vivid and etched into his memory—a highlight reel of Bella's climaxes, her face and body at the peak of pleasure, burned into his thoughts. She was stunning in those moments, utterly unguarded and radiant, and the memory of her unbridled joy stirred something deep within him.
Edward's grip on Bella's hand tightened slightly as his thoughts drifted. He loved her, more deeply than he'd ever thought possible, and he couldn't wait to introduce her to Carlisle and Esme. He remembered their hopes for him as if it were just yesterday. They'd always wished he might find someone to share his eternity with, the way Carlisle had found Esme. Those early days of their relationship came to mind—how they'd looked at each other with such awe, as though the world had been made just for them. It was hard to believe, but now they had been happily married for nearly a century. Edward wondered if they had changed at all with time or if their bond was as fresh as ever.
The car hummed steadily beneath them as they cruised along the highway, the afternoon sunlight casting golden streaks across the road. Edward drove in comfortable silence, still holding Bella's hand, his thoughts swirling. Life was strange. Just a month ago, if someone had come to his cell and described what his life would look like now, he wouldn't have believed them—not even for a second. The idea of freedom, of love, had felt impossibly out of reach. Yet here he was.
His gaze flicked to the central console's display, where the navigation system traced their route with pinpoint precision. The glowing screen indicated they'd reach Carlisle's house a little before 5:00 p.m. That was good—it would still be daylight, and Carlisle and Esme were likely to be home. Edward knew it would have been smarter to call ahead, to make sure they were there, but he couldn't resist the idea of surprising them.
He glanced again at the display, marveling at its accuracy. It wasn't just the route—it seemed to know everything. How fast they were going, how far they had gone, even what time they'd arrive. He understood how to operate the navigation system thanks to the manual, but how machines worked was still a complete mystery to him. He would catch up eventually—he was sure of it. But for now, his focus was on the road ahead and the reunion waiting at the end of it.
Edward let his thoughts wander to Carlisle and Esme, imagining what their reaction might be when they discovered he was alive. Would it be shock, disbelief, relief? Edward smiled faintly, playing out the scenarios in his mind. Whatever happened, he knew one thing for sure: seeing Carlisle and Esme again, after all this time, would feel like coming home.
Carlisle sat comfortably on the sofa next to Esme, his laptop balanced on his knees as he typed up reports and notes from last night's cases. It had been a grueling shift in the ER after a particularly nasty three-car pileup on the I-90. Two of the drivers had been critically injured and rushed to the hospital, where he'd spent hours working tirelessly to stabilize them. Thankfully, both men had survived, though one had suffered severe spinal injuries and would need months of rehabilitation to regain mobility. Carlisle sighed softly, his fingers pausing over the keyboard as he glanced at Esme.
She sat beside him, her tablet resting comfortably on her crossed legs, her brows furrowed slightly in concentration as she reviewed the blueprints for a house she was designing. The soft glow from the screen illuminated her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheekbone. Carlisle smiled, watching her for a moment. She always seemed so serene when she was immersed in her work, and he marveled at her boundless creativity and ingenuity.
Clearing his throat gently, he broke the quiet. "I was speaking with Administrator Campbell last night before my shift," he began, his tone casual. "He mentioned he's still waiting to hear from us about attending the hospital benefit in three weeks. It's supposed to be quite the event—filled with top donors and big wigs, the usual crowd. He'd really like us there to do some schmoozing. I told him I'd have to check with you first." His lips curved into a slight grin. "What do you think? Want to go?"
Esme looked up, her focus shifting from the tablet to Carlisle. She set it down on the coffee table, her smile softening her expression. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "it might be fun. We haven't gotten dressed up and gone to something fancy in ages. Tell him we'll be there." Her smile widened as an idea struck her. "I can finally wear that white gown I bought when Rose and I went to Madrid last year. It's been sitting in the back of my closet, just waiting for the right occasion."
Carlisle chuckled, his gaze warm. "I'll let him know. He'll be thrilled to add us to the guest list." He leaned back slightly, shifting his focus as something came to mind. "Oh, by the way, I spoke with Emmett earlier while you were out in the garden. If you didn't hear us, he said Rose is finishing up a build, so they'll be getting here later than planned. She figured if she worked straight through the day and night, they could make it by around 5:00 a.m. for the hunting trip."
Esme gave an amused hum, shaking her head lightly. "That sounds like Rose. She always tries to squeeze in one last project before relaxing. I'm surprised Emmett's not trying to talk her into pushing it back."
"Maybe he did, but you know Rose. Once her mind's set, there's no changing it." Carlisle smiled knowingly. "Emmett didn't seem to mind. I think he's just excited for the trip. He kept going on about how he spotted a herd of elk the size of a football team the last time they were near the ridge."
Esme laughed, the sound light and melodic. "I'm sure he did. And I'm sure he'll try to claim the biggest one, as usual."
"That sounds about right," Carlisle agreed, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Thinking about Rose, Esme leaned back against the sofa. "You know, we really should stop by Rose's shop before she ships her latest car out. She's put so much effort into this one. I saw her design plans, and if the car turns out anywhere close to what she envisioned, it's going to be spectacular."
Carlisle nodded, his lips curving into a smile. "We'll do just that. Maybe she'll even take us for a spin in it." He paused, the thought of their upcoming hunt lingering in his mind. It had been a good three weeks since his last meal, and the prospect of a few uninterrupted nights away left him feeling almost giddy. "It's going to be nice having the next few nights off to recharge. This past month at the hospital has been... well, let's just say it's been a lot. John seemed almost relieved when I told him I'd be taking some vacation days. He's convinced I'm on the verge of burning out."
Esme chuckled, her eyes glinting with warmth. "Well, we can't have that, can we? And what scenic getaway will you be whisking me off to, Doctor Cullen?" Her tone was playful, but the smile she sent him was decidedly alluring.
Carlisle leaned back slightly, his hand resting casually on the arm of the sofa as he matched her smile with one of his own. "I'm not sure it gets more scenic than the Idaho Panhandle National Forest," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. "But if you'd prefer somewhere a little more... refined afterward, just say the word. Your wish is my command."
Esme laughed softly. "The forest sounds perfect. But don't think I won't take you up on that offer for somewhere special afterward." She tilted her head, her gaze lingering on him for a moment. "We've been overdue for a proper getaway."
Carlisle reached over, his hand brushing hers briefly before settling on the sofa between them. "Then I'll make it happen," he said, his mind already running through potential destinations.
Esme was about to continue their playful exchange when she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She held up a finger toward Carlisle, her smile soft but teasing, signaling that their conversation would need a brief pause. Sliding her phone out, she glanced at the screen, and her expression brightened instantly. The caller ID read Carolina, and Esme's lips curved into a wider smile as she looked at Carlisle and mouthed her friend's name.
It had been almost a decade since they'd last seen each other, though their friendship always felt fresh as if no time had passed. Esme had first met Carolina decades ago, when she and Carlisle attended the wedding of Carlisle's old friend, Alistair. Carolina had been the radiant bride that day, her laughter infectious and her personality magnetic. The two women had connected instantly, and their friendship had only deepened over the past thirty years.
Esme's mind briefly flickered to their last conversation. Carolina had mentioned that she and Alistair were planning a trip to the States. Could this be her calling to finalize their plans? The thought brought a spark of excitement. It had been far too long since they'd seen each other face-to-face, and the prospect of catching up in person warmed Esme's heart.
Tapping the talk button, Esme brought the phone to her ear, her voice bright with affection as she greeted her friend. "Carolina! It's so good to hear from you."
"Esme," Carolina said, her voice carrying the warm, lilting tones of her Scottish accent. "I hope you and Carlisle are doing well."
"As well as ever," Esme replied with a soft laugh. "How are you and Alistair? Is he still causing trouble in your neck of the world?"
Carolina chuckled lightly. "Of course he is... We have no complaints," she said, though her tone shifted slightly, followed by a long exhale. "Well, almost no complaints. I'm actually calling to let you know we're going to be delaying our trip to the States."
"Oh no," Esme said, her disappointment genuine. "I was really looking forward to catching up in person. What's happened?"
"Alistair feels," Carolina began, and Esme could practically picture her friend rolling her eyes, "that with everything going on in Volterra, it's not the right time for us to make any plans. He thinks it's better to wait until things settle down before we risk traveling too far."
While Esme was disappointed, hearing her friend mention Italy piqued her curiosity. She shifted her position on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her, her voice dropping to a near-conspiratorial tone. "What's he heard? Carlisle and I have only picked up vague rumors. Do you know anything for certain? Are the Volturi really… gone?"
Carlisle, who had been quietly working beside her, caught where the conversation might be headed and paused what he was doing. He placed his laptop on the coffee table, his full attention now on the conversation, his expression sharpening with interest.
"Well, I do have some good intel on that front," Carolina said, her voice dropping slightly, as if she were sharing a closely guarded secret. "And it seems it's all true—the Volturi are truly gone."
Esme sat up a little straighter, her grip tightening slightly on the phone. "Gone? Completely?"
"Completely," Carolina confirmed. "I spoke with Siobhan a few weeks ago—she and her coven were preparing to travel to Paris before heading on to Volterra. Apparently, Amun's coven has already staked out the castle. And, get this—even Stephen and Vladimir have crawled out of whatever cave they've been hiding in and made their way there, too."
Esme couldn't help but shake her head, trying to imagine the chaos in Volterra right now. "What are they all doing there? A power grab?"
"No... I don't think so," Carolina replied hesitantly. "They're all claiming they're there to 'guard' the castle—to keep humans out and to protect whatever secrets the Volturi were hiding until new leadership is in place. But let's be real—it's obvious they don't trust each other, and they're all just as concerned with keeping the others from looting the place."
Esme's fingers tightened slightly around her phone. She glanced at Carlisle, whose eyes were wide, his focus entirely on her conversation. The idea of the Volturi's downfall was mind-boggling. For millennia, they'd been the ultimate authority, their name synonymous with fear and control. The thought of them being gone felt both liberating and disorienting, like a world suddenly without gravity.
Carolina continued, her tone conspiratorial. "I've heard there's going to be a gathering in Volterra in a month or two. They're saying any coven or nomad who wants to attend is welcome. Apparently, the plan is to decide the question of leadership at the meeting."
Esme let out a soft breath, the implications swirling in her mind. "Are you and Alistair going?" she asked, though she already suspected the answer.
"I'm trying to convince him," Carolina said, her exasperation evident. "But you know how he is—he'd rather dig himself a deeper hole and wait for the world to sort itself out. Honestly, I might just go without him if he keeps dragging his feet." She raised her voice slightly, probably to ensure Alistair could hear her. "What about you and Carlisle? Do you think your family will attend?"
Esme glanced at Carlisle, her brow arching as she caught the subtle shake of his head. She wasn't sure how she felt about attending the gathering in Volterra either, but she kept her response measured for her friend. "I don't know," she said carefully. "Carlisle and I, along with Rose and Em, will need to talk it over as a family. But, Carolina," her voice dipped slightly, curious, "do you know what actually happened? How could the Volturi be destroyed when no coven is claiming credit—or stepping forward to take their place?"
"That's the million-dollar question," Carolina replied, her voice brimming with intrigue. "I got a text from Maggie last week. She said her coven had just arrived at the castle, and it was… surprisingly intact. Barely any damage, aside from a few minor signs of a fight. Nothing close to what you'd expect from a battle to the death with the most powerful coven in vampire history."
Esme leaned forward slightly, her interest piqued. "No damage? That doesn't make any sense."
"Oh, it gets better," Carolina continued, her tone taking on a conspiratorial edge. "Maggie said Aro's throne was sliced clean in two—so precise, she couldn't even guess what kind of weapon could've done it. And here's the kicker—there were no bodies. Not a single one. Whatever group took them down cleaned up everything. It sounds like even the queens were destroyed in their precious ivory tower."
"Wow," Esme muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. The weight of Carolina's words settled heavily in her chest. This was the first real confirmation she and Carlisle had received. Until now, they'd only had Emmett's wild theories—each more outlandish than the last—to fuel their imaginations about the Volturi's apparent fall.
"I know, right?" Carolina said, her tone a blend of disbelief and intrigue. "That's exactly how I felt when I heard. But here's the craziest part—whoever took them down just… up and left. They didn't take a single thing. And you know how much there was to take. The Volturi were probably the richest bastards on the planet. I mean, millennia of hoarding treasures and who knows what else. And they just walked away from it."
Esme's eyebrows shot up. "They left everything? That doesn't make sense."
"Oh, trust me," Carolina continued, her voice dipping into the juicy details like a seasoned gossip. "You don't even want to know some of the stuff Maggie wrote about finding in Aro's and Caius's private wings. She said it was like a museum of horrors—treasures, artifacts, and things I probably shouldn't even mention over the phone."
Esme felt a shiver run through her, equal parts fascination and unease. She glanced at Carlisle, who was listening intently, his expression a mix of curiosity and disbelief. Whatever had happened in Volterra, it clearly hadn't been about power or wealth.
"Alistair's also been hearing some new rumors lately," Carolina said, though her tone was laced with skepticism. "Supposedly, it wasn't even a coven that took the Volturi down."
Esme frowned, leaning forward slightly. "Not a coven? Then who?"
Carolina hesitated before continuing, her voice edged with doubt. "The story going around now is that it was just one vampire. One vampire with a vendetta against them."
Esme blinked, stunned. "One vampire? That seems... impossible."
"Exactly," Carolina replied, her skepticism clear. "That's why I'm not buying it. I mean, we're talking about the Volturi—the most powerful coven in history. There's no way one vampire could've pulled that off, right? Still, that's the new whisper being spread around." She laughed softly. "And I guess I've now done my part in passing it along." She sighed, then added, "Hopefully, the meeting in Volterra will clear all of this up. And I still say we should go," she finished, her voice rising sharply, clearly aimed at Alistair.
Esme smiled faintly, picturing Alistair's usual stubbornness on the other end of the line. "Well, please keep us in the loop. We're not exactly plugged into the vampire gossip network, and this is by far the most intriguing news I've heard in my entire lifetime."
"Will do, Es," Carolina said, her voice softening. "Ah, hold on—Alistair's at it again, tapping his watch. Apparently, I'm on a schedule, and he's hungry." She chuckled lightly before adding, "I'll call if I hear anything new. Talk soon, okay?"
"Of course. Take care, Carolina," Esme replied warmly before ending the call.
Setting the phone down, she let out a breath, her mind racing. Vampire affairs were usually static, unchanging, predictable. This was something else entirely. Turning to Carlisle, who had been following the conversation with rapt attention, she said quietly, almost to herself, "It really does sound like they're gone."
Carlisle listened quietly as Esme and Carolina's conversation wound down, his mind churning through the implications of everything he'd just heard. There was no denying the Volturi's corruption—they had ruled with cunning and cruelty, often twisting justice to suit their needs. Still, as much as he was relieved to see their iron grip broken, a new worry settled in his chest. For all their faults, the Volturi had kept the vampire world in order. Without them, what would rise in their place? Would it be better—or something far worse?
"It seems so, dear," Carlisle said finally, his voice thoughtful but subdued. He glanced at Esme, the unspoken weight of the question lingering between them.
Esme shifted slightly, the thoughtful crease in her brow deepening. "Do you think Emmett might actually be right?" she asked, her tone speculative. "About it being Starshield who took them out? The timing is awfully convenient, don't you think? She shows up, and then the Volturi fall—it's hard not to see a connection. And you heard what Carolina just said…"
Carlisle leaned back, folding his arms as he considered her words. "It's possible," he admitted, though his tone was cautious. "But only time will tell. We don't have enough to go on yet."
He paused, a small, wry smile tugging at his lips. "What I am sure of, though, is that she's a vampire. I know Emmett is convinced she's some sort of alien, but I just can't see it."
Esme laughed softly, the sound breaking some of the tension that had settled over the room. "Well, you have to admit, dear, she didn't exactly behave like a typical vampire. And Emmett does love his conspiracy theories."
Carlisle chuckled, his expression easing. "That's true. But no matter what she is, one thing is clear—if she really did bring down the Volturi, she's far more powerful than the world is speculating."
A few hours later, Carlisle finally closed his laptop, setting it down on the coffee table with a soft sigh of satisfaction. The day had been productive, but his thoughts had strayed to Esme more than once as they worked side by side. Turning toward her, he found her already watching him, her expression warm yet mischievous, a playful gleam lighting her golden eyes.
God, she was breathtaking. Just the sight of her could stop him cold. Her beauty wasn't merely in her flawless features but in the quiet grace she carried, the way her gaze could hold his and make the rest of the world fall away. The look she was giving him now left no doubt—she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Carlisle smiled, unable to resist, and reached for her hand.
"Come here," he murmured, his voice low, a note of invitation woven through the words.
Esme didn't need further encouragement. She slid into his lap effortlessly, her knees framing his hips as she leaned into him. Her hands cupped his face, her touch both tender and electric. When her lips met his, the sweetness of her kiss sent a jolt through him, leaving him aching for more.
Leaning back slightly, Esme smiled, her fingers toying with the soft fabric of her blouse. Her movements were slow as she began undoing the buttons, one by one, revealing the delicate lace of her bra beneath.
"You're staring," she teased, her voice soft but brimming with the mischievous warmth he loved so much.
"Can you blame me?" he replied, his tone low and charged. "You're stunning."
Her smile deepened as she leaned in again, brushing her lips against his in a kiss that started slow but quickly ignited. Carlisle's hands slid instinctively to her waist, pulling her closer as their bodies pressed together. He felt the soft sigh she released, a sound that sent a thrill racing through him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him in place as the kiss deepened, growing hungrier with every moment.
The heat between them built, their restraint slipping with every touch. Esme's lips left his, trailing a path along his jawline, her kisses soft but insistent, each one leaving a spark in its wake. Carlisle's hands roamed her back, savoring the way her body responded to him, arching under his touch. He let his fingers glide over the curve of her spine, reveling in the sensation of her warmth and the way she fit so perfectly against him.
His growing arousal was undeniable now, and he knew they were fast approaching the point where they would need to move this upstairs. His mind was already envisioning the hours of lovemaking ahead when his sharp hearing caught the faint sound of a car engine. Carlisle froze, his focus shifting as the quiet engine grew louder, gliding smoothly down their long driveway.
Annoyed by the unexpected intrusion, Carlisle focused his senses on the approaching vehicle, the low hum of its engine growing louder as it neared the house. The car rolled to a stop just outside, and he strained to detect any signs of life. There were no heartbeats—it had to be a vampire.
"I wonder who that could be," he muttered, glancing at Esme. "It's too early for Rose and Emmett, and they'd usually run here for a hunting trip, not drive."
He watched as Esme's fingers deftly began rebuttoning her blouse, the frown on her face clearly reflecting her disappointment. Carlisle couldn't help but share her frustration; their moment of intimacy had been abruptly interrupted. Still, he couldn't help but wonder... It wasn't often they received visits from other vampires. Perhaps Eleazar and Carmen had decided to make an unannounced trip?
The sound of two car doors opening and closing reached them. Esme sighed softly before rising from his lap with her usual grace, giving him space to stand. Carlisle stood and adjusted his clothes, making sure he was presentable, before offering her a faint nod. Whoever their visitors were, they would meet them together.
Just as he took a step toward the door, an unfamiliar woman's voice broke the quiet. "Are you ready? There are two cars parked in front of the garage, so it looks like someone's home."
Carlisle paused mid-stride, his brow furrowing. He turned slightly toward Esme, but she shook her head, her expression equally puzzled.
Then came the second voice. "Yes, I'm ready. Though, I have to admit, I'm a little nervous."
Carlisle froze. His entire body went rigid, as if turned to stone, the air catching in his lungs. That voice. It was impossible. It couldn't be. And yet...
His mind reeled, memories crashing over him like a tidal wave. That voice—it was unmistakable. He knew that voice, even after all these years. Slowly, he turned to Esme, his wide eyes locking with hers, and he saw the same dawning realization etched across her face.
His breath hitched, a sharp, disbelieving gasp escaping him. That voice…
It was Edward's.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Next up is the reunion you've all been waiting for. I'd love to hear your thoughts—I truly enjoy reading what you have to say. Whether your comments are long or short, just knowing people are enjoying the story makes me smile.