Foreword: Alright, I truly apologize for the delay in publishing this chapter, so I'll keep it short: enjoy your reading! ^^

Rosalie was on high alert, ready for battle. It was time to act and deal with the seer if she posed a threat. She got out of the car and flashed a bright, fake smile at Alice, her tone amused and enthusiastic.

"Well, Woodbury awaits us. You're going to show me that blouse I'll look spectacular in!"

Let the war begin.

« The evil in the world comes almost always from ignorance, and goodwill can cause as much damage as ill-will if it is not enlightened . »

Albert Camus, The Plague.

Rosalie lazily examined the clothes before her, mechanically caressing the fine fabrics hanging on the hangers, moving piles of laundry without giving them a second glance: she smiled gently and responded in the most appropriate and courteous manner to every remark from Esme or Alice. Rosalie showed nothing of her inner turmoil: she had become an expert at hiding what she thought many years ago.

She was still on high alert and mentally reviewing her different options. If her bad feeling turned out to be true, what should she do? If Alice and Jasper were truly a threat, then they needed to be neutralized and thrown out—perhaps even incapacitated, which would be much more complex given the soldier's past—but quickly. On the other hand, if her suspicions were unfounded, and she was unjustly going after the seer, she risked destroying a fragile balance. If the newcomers were sincere in their desire to join their family, and she made an unnecessary mess of things due to a misunderstanding… the damage could be lasting. That was not what she wanted. She wanted to give them a chance to prove whether or not they were trustworthy. Alienating them based on a hunch could have irreversible consequences. She hated misjudgments: she was not about to act rashly on this.

She was determined to play the part while she figured out how to approach the problem. No one would see through her act: not even Esme, who had known her for years, seemed to notice her slightly off demeanor; a little too cheerful compared to her usual self. Her adoptive mother was so focused on the new addition to their family that she wouldn't have noticed her discomfort, even if Rosalie had been less skilled at hiding her emotions.

Esme watched her new daughter with tenderness as she flitted from rack to rack, marveling at everything that caught her eye.

The girl seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself. Since they had entered the store just minutes ago, the tension that had hung over the little seer during the final part of the car ride had suddenly seemed to dissipate. Like a sudden break in the clouds after a storm. Her expression had turned authentically joyful, her delicate face lighting up again with excitement. No matter what had disturbed Alice, the event looked distant, almost forgotten.

Rosalie wondered about this change in atmosphere: had her imagination run wild? Had she been overcome with paranoia? Had the girl truly hidden nothing serious?

The petite vampire was darting between the aisles, gushing over every outfit that came into view, with an air of carefreeness. It didn't seem like an act: the girl seemed genuinely happy. She no longer had that distant look in her eyes, nor the tense posture—and to the dismay of the shop assistant, who seemed frozen in shock at the tiny whirlwind rearranging the contents of his store while bombarding him with an avalanche of questions—she was once again talking non-stop. Yet, Rosalie was sure she had felt, quite tangibly, the strange addition to their family become nervous and agitated a little earlier. Now, however, she seemed to have returned to her usual state: cheerful, hyperactive, and curious about everything.

Despite this reassuring change in atmosphere, Rosalie couldn't shake the memory of an Alice who had been frightened and nervous...
A false alarm? Perhaps she didn't know the girl well enough to make deductions based solely on her strange behaviors. Maybe the clairvoyant sometimes had troubling visions she didn't want to share, but which were of no real consequence or didn't come to fruition? Perhaps the "incident" had meant nothing at all and she was reading too much into it?

In any case, the strange situation had set Rosalie's instincts on edge, and even now, with the calm atmosphere restored, she couldn't get the thought out of her head that something bad had happened—or was about to happen. There was still a lingering doubt inside her.
A doubt she didn't want to dismiss, but instead, she fed it. She would not let her guard down until she was sure the situation was completely under control. She would not err on the side of overconfidence. Never again. Thus, her sharp and calculating mind was entirely focused on one task: to monitor every move and word of Alice in search of any potential threat. If there was a threat, it had to be eliminated. And Rosalie was ready, alert, and prepared to take whatever measures she deemed necessary to ensure her family's safety.

The two newcomers weren't truly part of their family, and even though Carlisle and Esme had welcomed them warmly, Rosalie didn't trust them. If she were to be honest, Rosalie trusted almost no one. She wasn't like Esme or Carlisle; she didn't believe in human—or, rather, inhuman—goodness enough to be naïve; on the contrary, having personally experienced the monstrosity of men, she had no illusions about the humanity of monsters. She was, by default, wary of everyone, all the time, and in all circumstances: Emmett and Esme were exceptions—they had instantly managed to crack her shell and win her love without effort—and they had gained her trust in a snap, without it being the result of any conscious thought. But she had spent years before she even tacitly considered herself part of Carlisle and Edward's family, and in her darker moments, she granted them only a relative, reluctant trust.

The seer, full of energy, had been nothing but kind, funny, and enthusiastic since her arrival with the Cullens, but that didn't mean she was trustworthy. Quite the opposite. From what Rosalie had observed with her own eyes, the girl was a manipulator. If one were to go by what she had told them herself, she had convinced a nearly century-old vampire—a traumatized and bloodthirsty soldier—to become a vegetarian and follow her, with a snap of her fingers. And she had convinced them, with disarming ease, to welcome them into their home, despite the bloody past of her companion—just because she said she had "seen" her and Jasper joining the Cullen family didn't mean it should be taken as fact, and they certainly shouldn't act like they had been part of the family for decades! She had even taken over Edward's room with a single flirtatious smile. A seasoned manipulator, in a relationship with a man literally capable of altering the emotions of others, and who had, strangely, gotten everything she wanted from them since her arrival three weeks ago. The more Rosalie thought about it, the more the situation unsettled her, fueling her suspicion...

The past three weeks had been peaceful and pleasant, but their guests had integrated so quickly that it didn't feel entirely natural. Were their powers at work, or were they truly what they claimed to be? Had they been skillfully maneuvering since their arrival, using their abilities, or were they simply displaying easygoing personalities? Did they have bad intentions, or was being kept in the dark driving her crazy and stirring unnecessary paranoia? When she thought back to it calmly, analyzing the recent events in a detached manner, Rosalie had to admit Edward's initial viewpoint, agreeing that they had all been a bit overly idealistic in accepting a couple of strangers with such problematic personalities and "talents" into their home.

Rosalie now observed Alice's every move discreetly—while replaying in her mind every word the two strangers had said since arriving in their home, trying to detect the faintest trace of an impending treachery. She had to admit to herself that there was nothing particularly alarming in what she could find: Emmett, Carlisle, and Esme liked the seer and had immediately adopted her, and Edward—even though he ardently denied it—was completely charmed and found her power fascinating. As for Rosalie, she found her rather amusing and refreshing. Even if they didn't have similar personalities, there was nothing specific she could hold against her. Her ability to use her premonitions to arrange situations to her advantage and get what she wanted was certainly not an admirable trait, but Rosalie didn't know how she herself would handle such a talent in her daily life if she had been in the girl's shoes. If Alice's tendency to manipulate was limited to trivial matters and she was as harmless as her appearance suggested, then so be it! It didn't matter.

If she was indeed harmless... which Rosalie wasn't at all sure of at this moment: people who appeared charming on the surface could often reveal themselves to be full of vice and malice. Rosalie had learned this lesson the hard way, and she never forgot it. The bitter memory of Royce King still gnawed at a sensitive spot in her mind.

The soldier was another problem: he was, quite evidently, not harmless. His story was deeply unsettling, and he made no tangible efforts to integrate. Always withdrawn and often silent, he had initially contented himself with carefully observing the actions and behaviors of everyone else; then, visibly a bit reassured by his surroundings, he began to play the bookworm, nose buried in books—or taking notes—most of the day. Yet, he was surprisingly easy to like. He was discreet but seemed quite kind and funny on the rare occasions he spoke. There was an extremely soothing quality to his personality. And above all, for more than a week now, a sort of serene, dreamy joy emanated from him every time Alice appeared in his line of sight... it made him undeniably pleasant to be around. Rosalie didn't think he was deliberately trying to manipulate them by emitting fake feelings of "happiness," she concluded that it was some passive part of his power, causing his own emotions to slightly color the atmosphere around him, whether he wanted it or not, whenever he was relaxed. This would explain why the "feeling" hadn't appeared until recently and not from the moment they arrived: Jasper had apparently become less wary of them, leading to a loosening of the tight control he must have previously maintained over his power.

Rosalie didn't like the idea of being under any kind of influence, even a slight one: she had confronted the man about this the very next day after his integration. He had calmly and with what seemed like cold honesty assured her that he would never use his power to manipulate anyone without their consent, unless it was a matter of genuine security. She hadn't pursued the conversation further to find out what the scarred vampire considered "a matter of security," but Rosalie believed him to be sincere in his statement; so she had silently questioned Edward about the involuntary aspect of the boy's power when he had begun to regularly radiate that feeling of "contentment." Edward's subtle nod confirmed her intuition: the empath wasn't trying to alter their emotions. He was simply "peaceful and happy" in their presence, especially around Alice, which shifted the ambiance around him. Just as he had likely unwittingly heightened their amusement when Emmett made him laugh earlier in the day...

It was intrusive, but very telling about his state of mind. Rosalie couldn't really hold it against him if the phenomenon was unconscious and completely beyond his control. She hadn't confronted him about it, instead carefully noting this as a random consequence of his presence with the Cullens. She supposed it wasn't so bad having a living bottle of Iproniazide* always within reach; it could come in handy in case of a crisis. Edward had rolled his eyes at the cynical thought.

Maybe the two strangers were guilty of nothing, that they were genuinely pleasant to be around and had easily integrated without their powers playing much of a role. Or maybe they were using their talents to arrange things to their advantage, but had no ill intentions. Maybe.

Rosalie couldn't be sure, and—now that her instincts had been riled in the wrong direction—the question of their guests' sincerity, which had never really crossed her mind before, was now burning. The wave of suspicion that had overtaken her earlier continued to produce faint ripples, while her instincts urged her sharply toward caution.
Even people who seemed to have good intentions could turn out to be monstrous and dangerous when it was to serve their own interests... Rosalie vividly remembered the corpses—the broken necks and lifeless gazes—of Royce King's two bodyguards; she clearly recalled the bloodless bodies of Emmett's first victims, which she had coldly disposed of after he had "strayed." She knew she would kill again without hesitation to protect her own and preserve their secrets. Not that Rosalie had ever considered herself to have a good heart. She almost sniffed at the prospect, listening closely to the exchange between Esmée and her "sister."

"Oh! You should try the green coat hanging at the back on the right of the shop, Esmée, the color will look really beautiful with your hair!"

"That's sweet of you, Alice, but I remind you that we're especially here to take care of your wardrobe and Jasper's. Try to find a few pieces that fit you before trying to dress all of us!"

Esmée's gentle and playful tone mixed with Alice's tinkling laugh. It might have softened her suspicions if Rosalie hadn't noticed oddities in Alice's behavior just a few minutes earlier. Alice was clearly much more relaxed than she had been an hour ago, but Rosalie could still detect—unless she was imagining it?—some minor inconsistencies in her attitude: a slight twitch at the corner of her lips when she wasn't babbling about the clothes she was advising them to try, a fleeting thoughtful glance when she thought no one was looking, and a slight furrow of the brow showing a trace of displeasure. There was always something wrong. An unspoken tension that frayed Rosalie's nerves.

There was something off, she could feel it, and she refused to remain ignorant for longer: if Alice was hiding things from them, it had to stop. Rosalie was tired of the pretenses and wanted the truth. Now.

She would have her confrontation, but she had to play it smart if she wanted the truth, not just a simple substitute fed to them by the seer to placate them. She didn't want Alice using her power to serve up pious lies or half-truths; she had to catch her off guard and corner her. Not making decisions and basing her next actions on impulses: she could do that. The girl would reveal her hand, and it would be on Rosalie's terms. She quickly approached Esmée and Alice, saying the first words that came to her mind as she closely examined the light dress with a midnight blue skirt, which she suspected shouldn't fall below the knee, that the seer was holding between her fingers.

"It's lovely. Do you really think Jasper will like seeing you wear something like that? It's a bit bold, I suppose, in the eyes of a man from the 19th century."

"Oh, well, from what I've seen, women's clothes are going to get shorter in the years to come. He'll get used to it. Anyway, I doubt he's ever going to be very interested in fashion. He'll like it as long as I'm happy in it!"

Alice responded easily and in a playful tone, but there was a hint of surprise in her eyes. She hadn't anticipated the discussion. She stood up, carefully placing the dress on a display stand, and now stared directly into Rosalie's eyes.

" Ah, yes, your visions… how handy they are for knowing how everyone is going to react, right? You don't have to think long about what to say or do, you just peer into your internal crystal ball, and it gives you the right guidance for the best course of action. It must be pretty rare for you to actually say what you think or act spontaneously with that trick up your sleeve, huh?"

Rosalie kept speaking her mind, without filter. So much for subtlety! She didn't have much leeway on that front: the seer's power seemed too difficult to counter, other than by being recklessly impulsive. Facing her barely veiled attack, Alice gave a slightly tense smile, a glimmer of worry showing in her eyes for a moment before she resumed a sweet, composed expression.

"You know, Rosalie, it's not as simple as that. You're right, I'm not used to acting without my gift. It's part of me, and whether I want it to or not, most of the time it kicks in and gives me guidance on the best way to act… You should know that when I alter my words or actions, it's with good intentions, not to control people for fun. I just want everything to go smoothly, and if my power helps avoid conflicts, it's not a bad thing!"

Rosalie could easily agree with her and acknowledge the validity of the argument; it would be foolish to disregard a talent that could smooth over conflicts with carefully chosen words or well-timed gestures. However, the seer's "best intentions and good will" might not be serving them as much as it was serving her, from what Rosalie knew. She responded with a cold smile, suddenly leaning toward her and throwing her a sharp look, hoping to unsettle her.

"And your good intentions also dictate what's appropriate to reveal or not to those around you about your visions, don't they? If you keep them in the dark, it's not for your benefit, but for theirs."

Alice recoiled slightly at that and furrowed her brows, her eyes suddenly glazing over. Ah, there it was! She was once again searching through her premonitions for a way to get out of a situation she sensed was turning uncomfortable... Rosalie gave a short, sardonic laugh.

"What? You don't have a ready-made answer to give me about this? Let's see what your visions have to say about why you're hiding important information from your "family.""
Alice's eyes sharpened again, but she seemed uncertain. Her smile was gone, and her hands were nervously tapping along her body as she seemed suddenly overwhelmed with anxious energy.

"I don't understand where you're going with this..."

They were speaking too quietly for the humans to grasp the content of their conversation, but Esmée was now watching them closely, just a few meters away, observing with a worried vigilance. Her adoptive mother took a few steps toward them, whispering a phrase in an attempt to dissipate the tension that was rising sharply.

"Rosalie, Alice can't control having her visions. What she chooses to reveal or not to others is her decision. I'm not sure what you're implying exactly, but I'm sure she wouldn't hide anything important from us..."

Rosalie was ready to deliver the final blow. She took on her coldest tone and scrutinized the seer, eyeing her with disdain from top to bottom. The girl suddenly seemed sad and agitated: she must have sensed that the confrontation was not going to go in her favor...

"Oh, I think quite the opposite, Esmée. What did you see, Alice? Earlier, in the car, even though you tried to hide it, you were tense, nervous, and scared. Why?"

The seer opened her mouth and quickly shut it again, visible dejection in her eyes. She apparently knew that nothing she could say would avoid the conflict.

" I'm sorry, Esmée. Rosalie is right, I had a vision about something important. It wasn't as serious as I initially thought, but I was going to tell you before we got home... to warn you. I really intended to tell you. Maybe I was wrong not to share my vision right away, but I was waiting for the right moment for it. I wanted to find the right way to say it, but I couldn't."

Alice took a useless breath, tired of her own convolutions. She decided to stop beating around the bush, lifting her chin and fixing a wary – almost fearful – look on Rosalie, whispering the next words with a regretful tone.

" It was just a misunderstanding between Jasper and Emmett. It didn't last long. There was a fight between them. Having had a distorted vision, I thought it was serious and I got scared. It was just a fight; now everything's fine!"

A heavy silence followed the statement.

A fight? That didn't seem serious at first glance... Rosalie knew how impulsive Emmett could be at times, and he had started fights with several vampires since his creation as a newborn. Due to his size, he could usually easily take down his opponents before diffusing tense situations with his natural good-naturedness. The only fights he lost were those against Edward: the speed and abilities of the telepath allowed him to anticipate every move of his opponents and counter them. There was also the time he had been seriously caught off guard by Kate from the Denali clan – her electrifying power making him twist in pain for a few seconds – but the incident hadn't created any bad blood. It had been a "friendly" fight, and Emmett knew exactly what he was in for when he challenged Kate.

Given Alice's fear, her doubts when talking about the incident, and the fact that she emphasized it was a misunderstanding, it had been much more than just a fight; it had been a real battle. A battle between her companion – kind, naive, and impulsive – and a vampire – a battle-hardened, bloodthirsty leader with a cunning mind – who had eliminated thousands.

All Rosalie could think about was Emmett. Her husband, the person she loved more than anything in the world – the only one who truly gave meaning to her insipid immortal existence – had almost died fighting a dangerous vampire they had foolishly let into their home. He had almost died because Rosalie had been stupid enough to let a wolf into the henhouse. Something inside her sank a little as she tried to calm down: Alice had said the storm had passed, which at least meant the confrontation hadn't escalated to the point of becoming dramatic.

Emmett was fine. And right now, that was all that mattered. Their meeting and the events surrounding it were what mattered most to Rosalie. Her "new life" had truly begun from that day; the day when she had smelled the blood everywhere in a small wood in Tennessee and, driven by a morbid curiosity, had impulsively decided to go and take a look at the carnage. The curiosity to see if her self-control was strong enough to resist the thirst for blood that was gnawing at her, as it seemed a human was being drained of the precious liquid nearby.

Perched at the top of a tree, she had seen the most curious sight as she approached the bloody scene: a huge, panicked man, struggling in vain in the embrace of a grizzly bear. The man seemed almost small compared to the size of the beast, but he must have been nearly two meters tall with broad lumberjack shoulders. The poor guy had already suffered the claws and teeth of the animal. He was more dead than alive but – no doubt fueled by adrenaline – continued to fight with desperate energy, uselessly swinging his rifle's stock at the furious predator, trying to free himself. The steel of the weapon had already bent, the animal seemed to care little about the feeble jerks of its victim. A hunter serving as dinner for what he probably tracked. Fate had a perfect sense of irony.

This didn't concern Rosalie. She should have simply turned away from the scene now that she had proven to herself that she could easily resist the alluring scent of blood. Yet, for some reason, she decided to end the human's suffering. She had freed him from the bear, pushing it away from its prey with a single guttural growl of warning. The animal, frightened, had fled without asking questions, leaving the bloodied giant to collapse onto the pine-needle-covered forest floor. She had approached the fallen man, ready to break his neck out of compassion. She had bent down, and he had smiled at her. And everything had changed.

It wasn't a thoughtful action, it was actually the exact opposite. Rosalie had acted on an impulse that came out of nowhere, bringing the huge, gutted human back to their home. She held him in her arms like a bride being carried over the threshold, and started yelling at a bewildered Carlisle, demanding that he transform him; while Edward looked at her as though she had lost her mind and held a tight grip on Esmée's shoulder, who – her eyes darker than anything she had ever seen – was being consumed by the thirst for blood and struggling to hold back from leaping on their curious cargo.

A human whose only mistake had been to lock eyes with her in his agony and smile at her: two large blue eyes wide with pain and terror had fixed on hers, and suddenly, it was as if he saw the light at the end of the tunnel and had no more fear. A wide, bloodied smile stretched across his lips, revealing deep dimples that gave his strangely chubby face an odd charm, while his gaze calmed down, suddenly sparkling with misplaced joy.

"An angel… Please, stay with me, my angel. Forever, my angel."

The words had been hard to say, but an expression of absolute adoration had fleetingly crossed his features before they contorted again with pain. The declaration had been followed by a strange gurgle, the man choking on his own blood, but stretching a hand into the air as if trying to touch the angelic apparition he had just seen. The poor man was delirious; she was almost the exact opposite of an angel. Yet, Rosalie remembered the last time someone had looked at her with such innocent eyes – it had been Vera's baby, when she had rocked him in her arms just hours before his death... large, trusting, and affectionate blue eyes. A promise of eternity.

Rosalie thought of nothing else, she knelt down and picked up the big guy, his broken body in her arms; ignoring the overwhelming smell of human blood, pushing the thought that what she was doing was absurd and stupid. She ran as fast as she could, trying to keep the dying form she carried as still as possible. Very aware that the right arm she held pressed against the human's abdomen was the only thing stopping his entrails from spilling out and spreading across the forest floor. He was already almost dead.

The man's eyes were now closed, and the only sounds leaving his mouth were groans of pain and increasingly rare, wheezing breaths. Yet, his heartbeats were still surprisingly regular. While she ran, the only thing Rosalie focused on was that sound. The rhythm of a metronome: he had a strong heart. When he had faced the bear and been torn apart, his pulse had accelerated to the point of nearly triggering a heart attack. Now that he was held against her, the rhythm was peaceful. If he held on for a few more minutes and she could bring him to Carlisle, he would be "saved." Everything would be fine.

The sharp pain at the back of her throat gave her wings; her hatred and disgust for the monster lurking inside her – the one that demanded she finish the job and suck the remaining blood from the man in her arms – drove her forward. She felt a steely determination surge within her: she didn't want his blood, she was going to get him to Carlisle in time, and he would survive.

She had stormed onto the land bordering the Cullen property and felt an overwhelming relief wash over her when she saw Carlisle, visibly stunned, join her in a few leaps, take the precious burden from her, and lay him down on the ground to examine him with a perplexed expression. She had never seen the old vampire look so disconcerted, casting quick glances between her and the human lying on the ground, over whom he was now bent.

"Who is this man, Rosalie?"

Her adoptive father already had one of his hands around one of the man's large wrists, falling into his human doctor habits by instinct, needlessly checking a pulse they could all hear becoming erratic and too fast. The stranger's heart had miraculously held out through the 25 miles she'd covered in barely five minutes, remaining astonishingly steady, but now it was failing. At the end of its course, too.

"Turn him. Now, he's dying! He won't last much longer. Do it right now!"

Her tone was authoritative, but had a hysterical edge. She had thought everything would be fine if she managed to get the dying human to the Cullen mansion before his heart stopped… but it was a little more complicated than that. Panic was rising terrifyingly as she realized that what she was demanding was insane, and there was no guarantee that Carlisle would obey her whim. Echoing her own thoughts, Edward's dry, incredulous voice rose from the other end of the clearing; glancing up briefly, Rosalie saw that he was holding Esmée by the shoulders, trembling all over: they both had black eyes. The thick, overwhelming scent of human blood was everywhere in the air.

"Have you lost your mind? I thought you hated being a vampire, but now you want us to turn this man into a monster just because his smile reminded you of a baby's?! Have you seen his build?! As a newborn vampire, his strength will be colossal. You don't even know him: if he doesn't want to stick to the vegetarian diet and decides to slaughter everyone in the town, what are we going to do?"

It was true. It was completely ridiculous and dangerous. Yet, Rosalie felt an unprecedented surge of despair and anger take hold of her emotions at hearing her adoptive brother's words. Carlisle's calm, sorry voice sounded almost simultaneously with Edward's, his tone gentle but resolute, only heightening her panic.

"I'm sorry, Rosalie, I promised never to condemn anyone to this life without being sure it's what they would have wanted. We don't know this boy, we know nothing about what he would wish. It's too risky, we have to let him go..."

Let him go? This man had asked her to stay with him and had called her an angel. He had said forever… He didn't know what he was asking, but Rosalie was very determined to give it to him: eternal damnation.

She had carried the human for miles and had resisted her thirst for blood. And because she hated her immortality and the stranger had an intimidating physique, Carlisle refused to make a move to help him. A sense of injustice bubbled up inside her, surpassing her despair and fueling her fury. Carlisle had trapped her in this mockery of life for two years now, trying, every day, to convince her to see the "good sides" of her new existence. And now, when she finally felt something other than the gloomy stupor she had fallen into over the months following her transformation, he was refusing to give her the one thing she truly wanted. He had no right to do this to her. He wasn't going to take that away from her: Rosalie had saved the human, she wanted him to be a vampire, and Carlisle was going to have to turn him. There was no other alternative: the man was going to survive, no matter the cost. A growl tore through her throat, and she felt like she was losing her mind as she began screaming at them with all the fury she had left.

"Stay out of this, Edward! Be useful and get Esmée out of the way, you know she can't handle this.

Her brother shot her a hostile look, but he complied with her request, taking on the task of moving their adoptive mother, who was on the verge of losing control. Rosalie continued her charge, glaring at her "creator."

"Carlisle, turn him: I don't care if you now have scruples about expanding your collection of monsters! I'm stuck on this earth forever because of the gift you wanted to give your son… A gift he never wanted.

Carlisle had jumped violently in surprise, then almost seemed to blanch, his lips pressing tight as his eyes filled with shame. Of course, she was right. Her rescue had not been an altruistic act; seeing her beauty as a human, he had thought she would be absolutely stunning as a vampire, and he had hoped that Edward – who had despised his immortal existence since his awakening – and seemed immune to the charm of any vampire they had encountered, would fall in love with her. Of course, it had been a foolish thought, and things had not turned out as the doctor had hoped: not only had there never been a hint of romantic feeling between them, but, more than anything, Rosalie and Edward despised each other most of the time.

Rosalie had come to this conclusion months ago, but hadn't said anything; this was probably the best moment to throw that idea in her adoptive father's face. To bring him down to the ground and force his hand to do exactly what she wanted. The human's heart kept skipping beats, which only fueled her panic, making her shout at the old vampire.

"You don't have the right to do this to me, it's unbearable! This man, you don't understand. He can't die… you don't understand… he has to live. You have to do it, or I'll have to do it myself, and if I can't stop myself, if I kill him… I'll never forgive you! I'll hate you until the end of time, I'll hate you for this damn eternity! If you won't do it, and you don't try to save him, I'll hate you for the rest of our lives.

His usually compassionate face twitched in shock, as though she had slapped him. Rosalie realized she was acting like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum because she had been denied a pet, but she couldn't justify her outburst. The man's heart was stuttering, and it would soon be too late to help him. Her rage subsided, replaced by a wave of fear and despair: panic made her tremble. She couldn't turn him herself without killing him. The thirst that burned her throat was so violent that it already took all her control and determination not to give in to hunger and pounce on his body; if she bit him, she wouldn't be able to stop, she would drain his blood.

"Now, Carlisle! Please. I beg you."

Carlisle's golden eyes – slightly darkened by thirst – locked onto hers, almost meditative, as though he were analyzing a rare medical puzzle; they suddenly widened in understanding. Whatever he thought he had found seemed to suffice: his gaze turned pitch black, his expression wild, and he lunged abruptly at the man's throat, biting on both sides and injecting his venom. It was impressive to see the so human and stoic Dr. Cullen finally behave as his instincts – which he usually denied with every fiber of his being – demanded; it was even more impressive to see him detach himself from his prey after less than two gulps, pulling away with a quick yet graceful motion, his face still twisted by inhuman, murderous hunger.

That had sealed Emmett's fate and hers. Watching him undergo the transformation – hearing him scream in pain and cry like a child for three days straight – had been a real trial. But when, just minutes after the transformation finished, the man – now a vampire – opened his eyes and stared at her before giving her a satisfied smile, she felt her last doubts melt away. She had saved the man, and it was exactly what needed to be done.

Rosalie shook her head, returning to the present situation and throwing a deadly look at Alice, who seemed to shrink back in the face of her impending fury.

"Is everything okay? Jasper fought with Emmett over an hour ago, and instead of informing us so we could return and manage the situation, you deliberately kept us in the dark! You were planning to keep Esmée and me in ignorance until the moment you decided was most convenient to tell us?! And now, you expect us to accept your explanations with a smile and act as if nothing happened?"

Alice's nose was wrinkled, her body slightly tense, and her eyes once again glassy… she was clearly trying once again to figure out what to say exactly to calm things down, to defuse the situation without relying on her visions. That, more than anything else, drove Rosalie to the edge.

"Stop it! Be honest for once: say what you think! Stop hiding behind your damn power to try and manipulate us!"

She had raised her voice, and it almost sounded like a growl at the end of her sentence… The shopkeeper and his customer threw a quick, surprised glance in their direction. Esmée had not missed the exchange, and her face twisted briefly with concern at the sight of the human audience's reactions; her warning snapped sharply.

"Rosalie, Alice, this is not the place. Let's pay and take this discussion outside."

But Alice wasn't listening. She had clearly been stung by the remarks and had definitively abandoned the idea of finding the "right thing to say" through her premonitions to fix things. She stepped back slightly, her expression wounded and confused, while her gaze regained its sharpness.

"I… I'm not trying to manipulate you. I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. At first, I didn't know how it would end, we were too far to do anything, and… it wasn't a big deal after all. Just a misunderstanding, the boys sorted it out between them. Emmett even convinced Jasper to stay. Edward too. It's all been settled!"

"Settled? No, it's not settled. Jasper can't attack one of us and get away with it, just because you think it was a simple misunderstanding! Was anyone hurt? And try to be honest when you answer!"

Rosalie nearly growled, reacting sharply and instinctively, hoping to push the seer into a corner, forcing her to continue revealing herself rather than—when the pressure subsided—finding a way out, hiding again behind her visions to try and manipulate the conversation to her advantage.

Alice bit her lips, her expression growing more defensive. She clenched her hands compulsively, her eyes growing darker, her patience visibly beginning to fray, and the fear she had felt earlier resurfacing, making her speak less diplomatically, driven by emotion.

"Emmett was bitten, but…"

Rosalie wanted to roar, but barely managed to control herself, still mindful of the humans around them; Alice raised a hand into the air, as if to stop any potential interruptions. She babbled almost nervously, the words spilling from her mouth in a disorganized manner as she shook her head.

"That's not how it was! Jasper was just trying to subdue him, he didn't mean to hurt him. He was bitten, but he's fine. It was a minor wound, and Jasper even helped him treat it. It wasn't his fault! You don't really understand what it was like for him back in his time during the Southern wars: he just got scared and reacted instinctively. He doesn't want to fight anymore, or hurt anyone. He's really trying his best, Rosalie. It was just a misunderstanding, don't judge him for that!"

The remark about Jasper's fear could have struck a chord with Rosalie, but she deliberately ignored it, one piece of information hitting her like a ton of bricks: Emmett had been bitten. She felt her anger flare even more, burning hot.

"Fear and instinct? Is that the excuse to justify an attack? You really think it's logical to keep you among us when your pet monster could lose control at any moment?"

Alice took a step forward, her shoulders stiffening, a low, nasty growl escaping her. She had reacted instinctively to Rosalie's last sharp remark. Her vampire side was showing a little; as she, furious at hearing her companion insulted, bared her teeth, her irises darkening…

"You're crossing the line. Don't you dare insult him. You weren't there when it happened: it was Emmett who attacked him! It was his fault! Jasper only defended himself. He would never hurt anyone if he didn't think he was in danger! You can't imagine what he must have felt when your husband tried to "surprise" him just for fun!"

Her voice, usually crystal clear, was now sharp and she spat the last words out with indignation, almost like a hiss. Esmée, a few steps away, had strategically positioned herself between the aisles, trying to block the view of the two immortal girls—whose monstrous appearances were about to be revealed—from the humans in the store, should they fail to regain some composure.

The words came tumbling out before Rosalie could stop them, but she managed to stifle a sinister growl.

"Emmett's fault? You said the only thing he did was surprise your companion. From what I know, you weren't there either! Yet you have the nerve to claim it's the fault of the one who was hurt. I want you to leave: tonight! This wasn't a misunderstanding, Jasper could have killed him!"

"If he had wanted to kill him…"

Alice abruptly shut her mouth and lowered her gaze to the floor, suddenly very aware of what she had almost said in her anger. The unspoken words lingered ominously in the air. As their last venomous exchanges were hissed a little too loudly to be inaudible to the human ear, a sudden crash echoed at the back of the store, diverting the attention of the few humans who were trying—captivated and terrified—to make sense of the strange, tense, yet almost silent exchange between the two girls.

There was a sharp, biting murmur. Hard and cold, despite the low tone.

"Enough!

Rosalie and Alice froze, turning in unison to see Esmée, now only a couple of steps away, glaring at them furiously.

"You're both losing control, and you're putting on a show in front of humans. You know the danger this poses. To them and to us. You stop growling, smile politely at the shopkeeper, and leave this store. Outside. Now."

Notes:

"The Trojan War Will Not Take Place" is a nod to the title of the french dramatist Jean Giraudoux's play La guerre de Troie n'aura pas lieu.

*Iproniazid was one of the first antidepressants used in the 1950s. Here, it's used metaphorically to describe Jasper's calming effect... a sort of vampire anti-anxiety pill on legs. ;)

**Yeah, I think the real reason behind Rosalie's transformation is particularly hard to swallow… but what on earth was Carlisle thinking? :p In reality, this "idiotic" and superficial choice can highlight his humanity/imperfection; plus, it's pretty consistent with the opening quote. Despite some good intentions, he was guided by his ignorance/a superficial view of Rosalie and changed her for all the wrong reasons. On top of that, the failed romantic hope regarding Edward added even more bitterness to their respective situations, hence their tense and often antagonistic relationship...

And that's a wrap for this second part focused on Rosalie. I hope her reactions and exchanges with Alice seem believable within the context of this scene and that the argument feels "well-balanced."

The next chapter will focus on the "lovely hunting team" and will be told from Carlisle's perspective (a character I really enjoy writing). After that, a more introspective chapter will center on Esme (who's been rather in the background in this fic so far), a character I've never explored in detail before, but whose tragic story definitely deserves to be delved into. I'm really looking forward to it. :)

As for the conclusion of this arc, don't worry, it's already planned out! I'm a perfectionist, especially when I'm working on a story that means a lot to me. Sometimes this can slow down the writing process when I doubt certain details (characterization, conflict consistency, etc.), but I'm determined to see this story through to the end, and I've already drafted the next chapters. Your feedback is always welcome to help me improve; especially since, just to remind you, English is not my first language, so I'm always a little nervous about how some of my "French turns of phrase" might come across when read!

P.S.: I was in such a rush to publish yesterday that I swapped the files and sent the unfinished/unedited translation; here's the proper version. :)