Katinki graciously edited this story
Chapter 25
Despite my determination to stay in Aro's library and wait for Edward to come back from wherever Aro whisked him (or vice versa), Carlisle took me home.
"It is unwise and unsafe to overstay," he'd said.
Well, I don't know about that…
Rosalie, the only other human in attendance, had seemed to be socializing with Jane and Demetri just fine as we were leaving. Although when Carlisle offered her a ride, too, she'd agreed. But then, of course, I'm no Rosalie.
When I arrived home, I'd lain in bed without sleep for hours. What had happened tonight was something that I'd dreaded and expected at the same time. Now, and only thanks to Carlisle's negotiation skills, I had a year to try to figure out how to get back home. After that, if I'm still here, I'll either become a vampire or die. For reasons I've yet to figure out (although I strongly suspect that the main reason is simply Aro is a dick), only Edward may turn me, and he doesn't want to. There were other things Aro said that I didn't understand—about the nature of our bond and my soul…
What was he even talking about? I need to ask Edward.
One thing is clear. It's definitely becoming unwise and unsafe to overstay, duh.
Then again, there's a good chance that I'll have to deal with Aro in my time, too. He's immortal, after all, but at least there, I'll be more equipped to face his threats… Won't I?
I stop abruptly.
Oh, God, even if I figure out a way to get home, I can't leave Edward here! I can't do that to him! It would be cruel to expect him to wait for me for 190 years!
But… maybe I don't have to leave. There's no way that his stance on me becoming a vampire hasn't changed after tonight, right? He can't just let me die in a year!
Why am I even considering escaping to the future and not thinking about the present him at all, only counting on the future him? Which, at the very least, isn't exactly smart, considering Future Edward didn't pay me any attention whatsoever. Although, who knows—maybe he remembered me and pretended he didn't, or maybe he genuinely had no idea who I was.
Maybe I did make it back eventually, and that's why Future Edward ignored me—because he resented me for abandoning him for all that time! Or, maybe if time travel creates multiple timelines, then until I came to the past, he didn't know me because we hadn't met yet, but after I showed up in London, everything changed.
Ugh, why does this have to be so complicated?! Not to mention grammatically bizarre—who talks about the future in the past tense?!
I'm well on my way to a major headache by the time Edward finally climbs through my window. Surprisingly, he looks more relaxed than I've seen him in a long time. He's still far from his usual slightly arrogant, charming self, but his eyes are back to their normal yellow-green color, and there's no immediate terror in his gaze. He looks tired, though. I know that vampires don't tire physically, so it must be mental exhaustion. Clearly, this ordeal with the Vampire King weighs on him just as much as it does on me, if not more.
"So… What did you talk about with Aro?"
"Everything is settled," he says evenly. "I am now entirely certain that Aro will not act upon his threat. We engaged in a frank conversation, during which I succeeded in persuading him that you pose no danger whatsoever to the vampire world. Eventually, he agreed. I gave him my word that you would never reveal our secret to anyone for as long as you live, and nor would I."
I stare at him, not quite trusting my hearing at the moment.
He kisses my hand. "You are safe, my angel. I shall always keep you safe."
"What?! Oh…" I blink a few times. "But… how?" His mouth moves from my palm to the inside of my elbow, and I struggle to keep my focus. "He seemed so hell-bent on getting his fun at our expense… And then you managed to convince him otherwise? What exactly did you two talk about?" I chew on my lower lip. Instead of relaxing, the ever-present knot in my stomach gets tighter.
This is too good to be true.
"Bella, there is no caveat to what I have said, nor do I doubt Aro's integrity in this matter. He attempted to have his way, but upon seeing my resolve, he understood that he would not succeed. He is not an unreasonable man, and I am confident he will leave us be."
We sit quietly on my bed for a while, side by side. I exhale and rest my head on his shoulder as he gently slides his fingers up and down my neck. After all the stress of the last few hours, I feel empty and so very tired.
"He said a couple of things that I didn't understand. Why did he want you specifically to turn me? What is it about the nature of our bond?" I ask.
Edward tenses for a second. "That was his means of amusement. He was fully aware of the depth of my feelings for you and wished to test whether the threat of losing you might compel me to forfeit your chance at true eternal life. He delights in such games with those he favors. Yet, in the end, he came to see that my devotion to your happiness far outweighs any concern for my own." He kisses my hair gently.
"True eternal life… what do you mean?" I ask, dumbfounded.
"I had a feeling that you did not quite understand this aspect when we had our… previous conversation about changing you," he says in a low, somber voice. "I should have clarified this right away. Bella, when one becomes a vampire, one forfeits their immortal soul for all eternity. If a vampire dies, he or she truly ceases to exist. There is no return from such a fate, which makes the transformation far more irreversible than it may initially appear. Were you to become as I am, your beautiful soul would be lost, swallowed by the darkness of the abyss." He closes his eyes for a second. "I could never, under any circumstance, permit such a thing. To take human lives is bad enough, but to rob a soul like yours would be a crime so grave that I would sooner endure a thousand deaths than be guilty of it."
We're both silent for a very long moment. Every part of me wants to object to what he just said, but I hold back with sheer willpower, knowing I must tread carefully.
Finally, I take a deep breath and say, "Well, thanks for telling me. I guess that explains the whole "keeping her soul intact" thing. Is this, um, like a common knowledge? That vampires don't have a soul?"
Edward chuckles humorlessly. "It is a question of belief, and like with all beliefs, people, or vampires, they vary significantly. This is what I believe, Bella. I am a soulless monster, after all."
"I vaguely remember a similar argument I had with you, and probably not once," I say, "Only you didn't mention the word "soul" then. I guess, saying that I believe that you're not a soulless monster would not change much, but I'll still say it. Oh, man…" I pause to press my palms into the hollows of my eyes, giving in to frustration. "That adoptive father of yours did a number on you, didn't he? Never mind, just ignore me."
Edward springs to his feet and lowers himself to his knees. "Oh, Bella. Of course, you would believe that I am not a monster, for it is your own soul that perceives me this way! Do you now see that it is my selfishness that makes me so unwilling to rob you of it?" he whispers to me urgently.
"What? Have you forgotten that it's my soul, if there is such a thing… How are you responsible for it? I repeat, it's My. Freaking. Soul! And it should be my decision what to do with it!" I shout-whisper back as I thread my fingers into his thick, lush hair.
"You must understand. I am devastated that Rosalie is soon to be turned, a decision to which I have been opposed from the outset, though at least I am not directly involved. But you are a different matter entirely." Despair flickers in his eyes before he looks away. "To make you a vampire—assuming I could do so and not end your life—would destroy a part of me as well. I simply cannot bring myself to do it. That is why Aro sought to unsettle me, to force my hand. Thankfully, he had the wisdom to reconsider his course."
His head rests on my lap. It's as though there's suddenly no more fight left in him. Shouldn't he be ecstatic that things turned out exactly the way he wanted them to all along? Or… A thought flashes through my mind, but I'm too exhausted to grasp it, and it slips. Instead, I trace the lines of his beautiful face, committing them once again to memory.
The bell tower strikes two. "You must rest, my love," Edward says softly and rises to his feet.
"I'm fine," I mumble, not ready to part with him just yet… or at all. "Stay with me a little longer? I don't want you to leave."
I quickly consider diverting his thoughts to something more... pleasurable than the subject of death and the afterlife, but he shakes his head.
"There is an issue with the venue in Paris being too small, and the hosts have requested that Carlisle arrange for an additional recital a day earlier. Thus, Carlisle and I must depart early tomorrow morning—or rather, I should say, later today," he tells me quietly. "I hate to part with you even for a day. Three weeks shall be torture."
I whimper, too tired to scold him for not telling me earlier. "Please be careful on the road. I know that you're hard to kill, but just… take care. How long does a trip to Paris take anyway?"
"A little longer than two days," he says. "And being careful is exactly what I require of you. Do not stray far from the house, and if you must venture out, ensure that you are always accompanied by your uncle or aunt, and, if possible, one of the servants as well. Though the Italians have departed, there remains the possibility of encountering another of our kind…"
"Yes, Dad," I mutter. He shakes his head in mock disapproval and playfully tickles just below my left ear, making me giggle. Then, he leans in to kiss me goodnight.
I grasp his neck and hold him, cherishing the fleeting heaven of his cool lips on mine until he gently pulls away and disappears into the darkness.
XXX
The next morning, I sleep in until almost eleven. With mine and Edward's nighttime routine, it's a good thing I don't have work to go to, or I'd have dark circles every day. Instead, I have a luxurious late breakfast. Seriously, Siobhan makes this insanely delicious bread that in my time would be called "multigrain," with seeds and nuts. Toast it and spread some homemade butter on top, and you don't need any other food, ever.
And yes, I know what you're thinking.
Thank God for my good metabolism, or I'd never be able to fit into all those gowns Isabella Dwyer has in abundance.
Speaking of gowns, today I'm wearing the cream gown that Edward gave me on the night of the assault, though I prefer to think of it as a "night when it all started." I managed to sell Jessica a story that the gown was a hand-me-down from a relative of Angela's (who, being a good four inches taller than me, obviously couldn't wear it). It's my favorite clothing item right now, though I never got to ask Edward about its origin. Who did it belong to? I prefer to think it wasn't owned by any woman.
Perhaps Carlisle enjoys wearing women's gowns in his spare time... If so, who am I to judge?
I spend a couple of hours practicing my etudes, but then I get restless. I can't shake off the lingering feeling of unease that my conversation with Edward stirred. My inner Sherlock insists that something doesn't quite add up, but I can't pinpoint exactly what it is. Maybe it's because I just don't trust Aro. He's the kind of guy who always gets what he wants, no matter how long it takes, and, I swear, I saw it in his eyes—he really enjoyed the idea of turning me. What did Edward tell him to change his mind?
We never got to discuss that…
Damn it. And now he's gone for three weeks, with no fast way to contact him.
One thing's clear—something's fishy, and the only thing I can do is start digging into this time travel mystery with a bit more energy than I've put in so far.
Just to keep my options open. A backup plan.
So far, I've been at the Opera twice, and nothing happened. Both times, it was a different opera, though. Are they even going to renew Norma any time soon? This is something I need to find out. Because it's the most obvious line of research, and because, well, it's not like I have any other ideas.
In the absence of Carlisle and Edward, the only person I can think of who might have this information is Rosalie. I have no clue where she lives, but I'm sure Jessica knows. I ring the bell.
"Um, Jessica, I have an appointment to visit Ms. Rosalie Hale this afternoon, but I seem to have misplaced her address. Would you happen to know where her quarters are?" I ask, pretending to flip through the pages of The Times.
"Yes, madame, I do!" she chirps, eyes sparkling. I suspect she's as tired of marinating in this house as I am. "Ms. Hale lives in Piccadilly. At what time do you wish to arrive? I shall tell George to have the carriage by the door."
I tell her to be ready in two hours. It's a bit of a gamble, going to Rosalie on a whim without even giving her a warning, but I calculate that today is the best day to catch her at home. She mentioned that she likes to sleep in, and Mondays are usually a day off for the theaters.
Turns out, Rosalie lives in a pretty townhouse just two short blocks from the Opera. When we arrive, a maid ushers me into a beautifully decorated "whatever room," as I call them, and then takes Jessica to the kitchen. Then, I wait. Rosalie takes her time, and I can't blame her. In fact, I'm surprised she's willing to see me at all. Her demeanor toward me has always been indifferent at best—I suppose she's just as baffled by what Edward sees in me as I am.
When she finally appears, she's dressed in what's probably considered a night dress, only of a more revealing kind, made of high-quality red silk and some intricate lace. Her hair is in spectacular disarray, which suggests that the maid had to wake her up. I glance at the clock. It's 3 pm.
"My apologies for intruding," I say. "I realize this is an impulsive visit, and had I planned it better, I would have sent word ahead. I merely have a brief question for you."
Rose plops into a chair and yawns. "It is quite all right. No need for concern. I was due to wake up anyway. I have not seen the light of day since October…" She chuckles. "Have Edward and Carlisle left?"
"Yes, they have," I reply. "And I forgot to ask them something, but surely you are more acquainted with the matter. When is Norma scheduled for its next performance?"
"Hmmm," she says, wrinkling her nose as she ties her hair into a messy bun. "I do not believe it is!"
My brows furrow. "What do you mean?"
"Hasn't Edward told you? The storage room where the decorations were kept caught fire from some blockhead's candle, and the entire room was lost to the flames. The company is faring well, but not so well as to invest into another production of such scale, so it seems Norma may be done for." She sighs. "Which is upsetting, for it was a great deal of work."
My eyes widen in horror. "Oh, no… Are you sure about that?"
Rosalie rolls her eyes. "I am. Why are you asking? Did you intend to use it for your journey home?" She looks at me intently, eyes narrowed.
"Um, yes. I intended to try, at least... That was my last and only hope, honestly. Damn…" I get up and walk to the window. Probably I shouldn't curse in the presence of another lady, but Rosalie knows about me, and I'm too upset to care. "I suppose I'm really staying here then. It's not that it's terrible, it's just… I miss my life there." I pause, wondering why I'm suddenly pouring out my soul to Rosalie. "Oh, well, at least Edward won't have to spend 190 years waiting for me. So, there's a silver lining."
Rosalie comes close and stands by me, staring at the wet and busy street in front of us. "Trust me, you do not subject Edward to anything approaching the level of cruelty he inflicts upon himself," she says.
"What do you mean?" I ask again. I seem to be asking this question a lot lately.
"It is for him to tell you. He is wholly consumed by saving your soul. That is all I am at liberty to say."
"Yes, he told me yesterday."
"Did he explain the implications of the decision to leave you human?"
"He didn't, but I'm not stupid. I will get old, if I'm lucky that is, and die. He will always be by my side, or so he says. Then, he'll go on with his immortal life." I don't mention Aro's sudden decision not to punish Edward and me for breaking the Cardinal Vampire Law. I wonder how much she knows.
She takes a deep breath, looking frustrated, but doesn't say a word.
"Rosalie, may I ask you something else?" She nods slowly. "Why did you decide to become like them?"
She smiles faintly, her gaze unfocused again. "First and foremost, I had no choice in the matter. It was hardly a "decision" of my own. Yet, if truth be told, they were the only kindness I had known in life. Carlisle and Edward have been unfailingly good to me, and Aro and the rest of the Volturi have treated me with extraordinary regard, almost as one of their own. Yes, from our human perspective, their way of life is cruel, yet they are also fair and unwavering. When Aro made up his mind concerning my fate, I found myself having no objections, particularly as my relations with humans had brought me nothing but pain and suffering," she says matter-of-factly.
"When are they going to turn you? Are you going to be… like Aro or like Edward and Carlisle?" This must be the most non-PC question in the vampire world one could possibly ask, but I can't help myself.
Rosalie laughs. "I have a few years before my voice fully blossoms. When a human becomes a vampire, they cease to change in any way, with one notable exception, and that is not the voice. To answer your second question, I have no desire to become a raging murderer after I am turned. Yet, naturally, there is no assurance I shall possess the strength to resist such instincts. Nevertheless, I will strive to follow Carlisle's path, primarily for the hope of continuing to live among humans." She turns and looks at me. "Did Edward tell you that he never drank human blood?"
I ponder her question. "He said that he doesn't drink from humans, but now that you're asking, I think that I assumed that he might have slipped a few times."
"He did not, ever. Nor did Carlisle. Make no mistake, Edward killed people, as you well know, but never for blood. So, it is entirely possible not to harm people in that way, if this is your concern."
The image of Edward wiping off a drop of my blood and licking it from his finger appears in my mind, and I swallow hard.
"I am happy to hear that, Rosalie," I say quietly. She will make a fine vampire. Beautiful, strong, talented. Edward will eventually come around. I grit my teeth trying not to wince from the sudden burning in my ribcage.
Rosalie reaches for a large woolen shawl and wraps herself in it. "Bella, do you have time to spare?" she asks. "I am searching for an accompanist. Edward is not available, and I must urgently practice. He regards your pianoforte skills to be excellent, is that so?"
Her question barely registers at first, but when it does, my palms immediately become cold and sweaty.
"What? Oh, no-no-no, I'm not that good! Especially if you want to rehearse those last two Schubert songs. Those are insanely difficult for the pianist. Well, for the singer, too, obviously," I babble in panic.
"Not those," she assures me. "We can attempt several songs by Mozart, and then perhaps an aria or two. Come!" She beckons me to follow her into another room, where a baby grand-style pianoforte stands in the center.
"By the way, I meant to ask. Why did you choose Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel and The Elfking to sing for Aro?" I ask as I take my seat at the piano. "Those are not the first songs that come to mind when you ask yourself, what could I possibly sing for my vampire-ruling, older-than-the-Bible sort-of-uncle?"
Rosalie laughs. Even the sound of her laughter is attractive. "Aro is utterly captivated by Schubert. As for the last two, I sang them for myself. They hold a certain healing power..." She hesitates. "I am not sure if they told you, but I was once pregnant and lost my baby. It was a long time ago. I barely survived… Carlisle saved my life, though my ability to bear children was lost forever. Ironically, it is the one kind of damage that even a vampire's transformation cannot restore." She touches her abdomen briefly, then smiles, drawing her shoulders back and standing tall. "Those two songs saved me from the madness that followed. With each note I sang, it was as if the music absorbed my pain... Is that not a miracle and proof of the divine?"
I stare at her in astonishment. She's not at all what I imagined. I guess I pictured a spoiled brat who got everything—looks, talent, fame, Edward… okay, not in that sense, but he and Carlisle are practically her family—too easily and didn't know the first thing about life. Turns out, she's clearly not that, and though my jealousy doesn't shrink an ounce, I begin to feel grudging respect for her. For a woman of this time, she's unbelievably open and honest about her experience. I recall how Angela once said, "Rosalie broke many hearts," with that tone of pity in her voice… If Angela, with her heart of gold, singled her out like this, I can only imagine the level of judgment and scrutiny a woman like Rosalie—successful, unmarried, and pregnant—must have endured. Or rather, I can't imagine. Yet here she is, standing strong and proud of her scars.
"Those two songs are my favorites of his," I say simply. "Shall we begin?"
XXX
It's no easy feat to accompany someone when (a) you have to sight-read music you've never played before, and (b) you're ridiculously nervous because the only person you've ever accompanied is yourself, and now you're battling a serious case of imposter syndrome. And just to be clear, when I say I sang and accompanied myself, don't get any ideas. That was strictly in the privacy of my room, basically the closest thing to singing in the shower.
Still, since my part is relatively straightforward, somehow I gradually get the hang of it. Rosalie seems pleased, too. Up close, her voice is so strong and voluminous that the room feels too small for it. She sings Mozart differently than she did the Romantics, and I can't help but admire the versatility of her voice. Her instructions on what she wants to achieve with each song are clear and to the point, and soon, I find myself enjoying the process immensely.
After about an hour, we're interrupted by Jessica, who pokes her head through the door to inform me that it's nearly dark and that we should probably head home, or Lady Buchan will be beside herself.
"Allow us a quarter of an hour," Rosalie tells her. "Bella, this is progressing better than I thought. Before you leave, could we possibly try something different? An aria perhaps? The one familiar to you. Thus, you should have no issue reading it."
She thrusts sheet music into my hands, and sure enough, I spot the words Casta Diva at the top. Yeah, I definitely know this one.
"Oh, hello, Norma," I say wryly. "Let's revive you from your not-so-metaphorical ashes, shall we?"
Rosalie snorts. "I prefer not to rush this one. We should go reasonably slowly, savoring each phrase. Like so." She shows me the tempo.
I nod. Slowly sounds perfect to me. I start playing and Rosalie joins, and for the first time, she and I find ourselves truly in sync. My part is easy to read, giving me the mental and physical space to focus entirely on our ensemble. I catch her wave, so to speak, and together we simply glide along.
It feels exhilarating.
Someone once said that no amount of listening to music can make you understand and feel it as deeply as when you're actually playing it yourself. At this moment, I realize just how true that is. Playing, of course, doesn't equate to creating—composition is clearly the next level—but performing a piece feels like the final act of its creation, especially when you're doing it alongside a musician of Rosalie's caliber. Music doesn't exist merely in the composer's mind or on a sheet of paper. It must be played or sung to truly come alive. Even though my role here is minor and Rosalie is doing most of the magic, I have this visceral sense that we're creating something together, and that the result is beautiful—far more so than if I were simply hearing it in concert or recording.
And then it happens.
I don't notice it right away because I'm busy keeping an eye on the notes while periodically glancing up to make eye contact with Rosalie. When I do notice, my first thought is that my eyes are getting tired, and something's wrong with my vision. As if the edges of it are becoming blurred.
It's when a mild sickness comes out of nowhere that I suddenly remember.
Minus Norma herself, it's very, very similar to how it started… then.
Oh, God, could it just be a coincidence?
My heart jumps. I almost falter but manage to steady myself and keep playing. My vision then grows even more fuzzy, and suddenly, I feel rather than see the familiar blackness beginning to spin in front of my eyes.
Abruptly, I yank my hands from the keyboard, slam the lid shut with a bang, and leap out of my chair.
Rosalie shrieks, startled. "What happened?!"
"I… I'm alright. I think I saw a spider… I'm afraid of spiders, you know. Some people are… So sorry," I mutter and palm my face, trying to take deep breaths.
I'm dizzy, but the blackness is gone.
"You should eat something. Let me call…" she begins, but I interrupt her.
"Um, Rosalie, I really need to go home. My apologies. My aunt and uncle must be so worried." I start walking to the exit but have to hold onto the wall for a second as lingering nausea hits me.
Rosalie frowns. "Are you certain you do not want a cup of tea at least? Bella, you look like you have seen a ghost," she says.
"Yeah, I'm totally fine. It was really good to talk to you… and to sing. I mean, you were singing, of course, not me…" I shake my head and pull my lips into a smile. "Thank you! Let us do it again! Do you mind if I take the music home with me to practice? I can make copies and send them back."
"That would be delightful! And there is no need to return them. These belong to Edward, and he has no particular need for them... Mary!" Rosalie calls. The maid appears in the doorframe. "Show Mrs. Dwyer to her carriage, please."
As I turn to follow the maid, all of a sudden Rosalie touches my arm, gives me a small smile, and says quietly, "You have done well. Thank you. And… I must say, I admire how this gown suits you. Carlisle purchased several similar gowns for me, unaware that I was with child, and afterward, I could no longer hope to fit into any of them. What I mean to say is that they have never been worn."
Her smile is the kind I've only ever seen on her face when directed at the Masens.
I guess it means that she's trying.
"Oh," I say, eloquent as ever. "Thank you. I only saw this one, and it's lovely. See you around, Rosalie."
.
.
.
