𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘚𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘌𝘕

(the cursed witch, act one)

*this ones a long one so get your comfies on*

THE MUTED LIGHT OF YET ANOTHER CLOUDY DAY EVENTUALLY WOKE HER. Nina lied with her arm across her eyes, groggy and dazed. She moaned, rolling onto her side, hoping more sleep would come. But as she moved, she hit something cold and hard.

"Oh!" She sat up so fast it made her head spin. Looking down at the space beside her, Edward laid, his eyes slowly opening before shutting again.

"Go back to sleep," He muttered, his hands grasping her shoulders, pulling her back down into his side.

Nina chuckled, her hand reaching up to run through his hair while he buried his face in her neck. "And you teased me about liking sleep too much."

"You get to sleep every night. I haven't slept in 91 years."

"My antique," She whispered teasingly, watching him as he kept his eyes closed. "Your hair is a mess."

"Probably from you messing with it," He added. Her fingers that had been mindlessly scratching his scalp, paused momentarily. He groaned. "No. Don't stop."

"You're such a whiner in the morning," Nina grinned, her fingers starting again, gently running through his hair.

Edward grumbled, adjusting himself so he was partly laying on top of her, his head resting on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. "If you don't stop talking I'll leave."

"Playing dirty, are we, Cullen? Alright... Ten more minutes."

It wasn't till 2 hours had passed that they both comfortably woke. Nina had woken to a cold bed, colder than it should have been, making her eyes open instantly as she looked over and saw he was gone.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," His voice suddenly called, making her breath out hastily as she looked over to her desk and saw him sitting in her chair.

"I thought you left," She mumbled, slowly getting out of the warmth of her bed, dragging her blanket with her as she moved toward him. Her legs wrapped around him, sitting on his lap as she draped the blanket over her shoulders, holding it tightly around them.

"How long have you been lurking?"

He smiled, his hands holding her waist. "About half an hour. Spell must have worn off."

"Was it okay? I wasn't sure if it would be more like a coma than actual sleep."

His arms tightened around her waist, hugging her as he pulled her close to his chest. "Best sleep I've ever had. I'll have to start coming here every night. Just don't let my siblings in on this. They'll never give you back to me."

There was nothing more to say for the moment. He rocked them back and forth as the room grew lighter.

"Breakfast time," He said eventually, casually — to prove, she was sure, that he remembered all her human-like frailties.

Nina clutched her throat with both her hands, moving back and stared at him with wide eyes. Shock crossed his face.

"Kidding!" She snickered. "And you said I couldn't act!"

He rolled his eyes. "That wasn't funny."

Nina smirked when she saw his lips twitch upward. "It was very funny, and you know it."

"Shall I rephrase?" He asked, unable to hold his smile back. "Breakfast time for the witch."

"Oh, okay."

He threw her over his stone shoulder, gently, but with a swiftness that left her breathless. She giggled softly, her hair hanging down, fingers holding his belt loops. He carried her easily down the hall, grinning at the sounds of her laughter. He sat her right side up on a chair.

The kitchen was bright, happy, seeming to absorb her mood.

"Alright, Betty Crocker. What's for breakfast?"

That threw him for a minute. "Er, I'm not sure. What would you like? All I know how to make is... blood in a mug."

She gasped softly, "Is that what you were drinking in class that one day?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement at her. She grinned, hopping up. "That's all right, I fend for myself pretty well–"

"As long as you don't use the stove?" He teased.

Nina glared at him from over her shoulder. "I will set you on fire." She found a bowl and a box of cereal. She could feel his eyes on her as she poured the milk and grabbed a spoon. She sat her food on the table, and then paused. "Do you want anything? I don't have any blood... I could find a rat?"

"You want me to eat a rat?"

"Well... I don't know. Do you want to eat a rat?"

"Not really, darling. Just eat."

She sat at the table, watching him as she took a bite. He was gazing at her, studying her every movement. If it were anyone else, it would have made her self-conscious. She cleared her mouth to speak, to distract him.

"What's on the agenda for today?" She asked.

"Hmmm..." She watched him frame his answer carefully. "What would you say to seeing my family again?"

She gulped.

"Are you afraid now?" He sounded hopeful.

"I'm pretty sure your siblings were going to kill me after you and Alice left to go hunting," She admitted.

He smirked. "Emmett told me about that. Said you ran away before they could say much."

"You try being cornered by three vampires. It's not easy."

"My siblings scare you, but I don't? What do they have that I don't?"

"Well, I haven't seen them sparkle yet so that might be why–" He glared at her.

"Don't worry." He smiled. "I'll protect you."

"I'm not afraid of them," She explained. "Well, I am a little... I'm more so afraid they won't... approve of me. I'm afraid they won't think I'm enough for you."

"Oh, they approve of you. Esme won't leave me alone about how she wasn't able to meet you the last time you stayed over. And the rest have taken bets, you know," – He smiled— "on how long it will take for me to ask you to be my girlfriend, though why anyone would bet against Alice, I can't imagine. At any rate, we don't have secrets in the family. It's not really feasible, what with my mind reading and Alice seeing the future and all that."

"And Jasper making you feel all warm and fuzzy about spilling your guts, don't forget that."

"You paid attention," He smiled approvingly.

"So did Alice see me coming?"

"Ah, they are probably already getting the house ready for us." He eyed her breakfast with a teasing look on his face, "Is that any good? Honestly, it doesn't look very appetizing."

"Well, it's no irritable grizzly..." She chuckled, ignoring him when he glowered. She hurried through her cereal.

He stood in the middle of the kitchen, the statue of Adonis again, staring abstractedly out the back windows. Then his eyes were back on her, and he smiled his heartbreaking smile.

"And you should introduce me to your mother, too, I think."

"She already knows you," Nina reminded him.

"As your boyfriend, I mean."

She stared at him with suspicion. "Why?"

"Isn't that customary?" He asked innocently.

"I don't know." Her dating history gave her few reference points to work with. Not that any normal rules of dating applied here. "That's not necessary, you know. I don't expect you to... I mean, you don't have to pretend for me."

His smile was patient. "I'm not pretending."

She pushed the remains of her cereal around the edges of the bowl, biting her lip.

"Are you going to tell Natalie I'm your boyfriend or not?"

"Is that what you are?" She suppressed her internal cringing at the thought of Edward and Natalie and the word boyfriend all in the same room at the same time.

"It's a loose interpretation of the word 'boy,' I'll admit."

"I was under the impression that you were something more, actually," She confessed, looking at the table.

"Well, I don't know if we need to give her all the gory details." He reached across the table to lift her chin with a cold, gentle finger. "But she will need some explanation for why I'm around here so much. I don't want Nurse Evans getting a restraining order put on me."

"Will you be here?"

"As long as you want me," He assured her.

"I'll always want you," She warned him. "Forever."

He walked slowly around the table, and, pausing a few feet away, he reached out to touch his fingertips to her cheek. His expression was unfathomable.

"Does that make you sad?" She asked.

He didn't answer. He stared into her eyes for an immeasurable period of time.

"Are you finished?" He finally asked.

She jumped up. "Yes."

"Get dressed — I'll wait here."

It was hard to decide what to wear. She doubted there were any etiquette books detailing how to dress when your vampire sweetheart takes you home to meet his vampire family.

She ended up in a pair of fitted black pants paired with a red, long sleeve v-neck top. She stared at herself in the mirror as she pinned back parts of her hair, leaving out the front pieces that still had some curl from the last time she had curled her hair.

She almost ran down the hall. "I'm decent."

He was waiting at the end of the hall, closer than she'd thought, and she bounded right into him. He steadied her, holding her a careful distance away for a few seconds before suddenly pulling her closer.

"Wrong again," He murmured in her ear. "You are utterly indecent — no one should look so tempting, it's not fair."

"Tempting how?" She asked. She had worn the outfit to school before and had gotten little to no reaction. "I can change..."

He sighed, shaking his head. "You are so absurd." He pressed his cool lips delicately to her forehead, and the room spun. The smell of his diluted cologne made it impossible to think.

"Shall I explain how you are tempting me?" He said. It was clearly a rhetorical question. His fingers traced slowly down her spine, his breath coming more quickly against her skin.

"I suppose that might be nice." He kissed along her jaw, the act making her feel lightheaded as she leaned into his arms. He tilted his head slowly and touched his cool lips to hers, very carefully, parting them slightly.

Nina hummed in delight, fingers moving up to hold his collar. She could feel him grin against her.

His hands held her waist, pulling her close to him. He felt her intake of breath and slowly parted, staying close enough that his nose brushed against hers. "What am I going to do with you?" He breathed out softly.

Her eyes fluttered open. "I could think of a few things."

He could hear her thoughts. Her ideas made him smirk and lean down once again. His fingers lifted her chin to look her in the eye. The look made her knees weak. She was losing her mind.

"My family is waiting for us."

She sighed, pulling back. "Mood killer."

He laughed softly, letting her put on her shoes before leading her out the door.

"Are you driving today?" He asked as she locked the door.

"Is that a good idea?"

He shrugged, handing her his car keys making her look at him with a surprised look. "Alice dropped it off earlier," He explained. "Just after your mom left. She also took it before your mother came home last night."

"Alice is our wing woman now?" Nina laughed. "I guess I'll have to thank her. I completely forgot about your car."

"Are you sure you trust me with this car?" Nina asked when she got herself situated in the driver's seat while Edward sat beside her.

"Not overly. But I have other cars. This one is my least favourite."

She sighed, "That's not very reassuring."

"I trust you not to hurt yourself," He told her. "Now start the car. You know your left and right's, yes?"

The witch rolled her eyes. "Of course I do."

"Then we will be just fine."

Nina was actually a good driver, something that had shocked the vampire. It wasn't that he had assumed they would crash in a ditch... well he had a feeling they might, but surprisingly, she drove with ease, listening to his every direction.

They passed over the bridge at the Calawah River, the road winding northward, the houses flashing past them growing farther apart, getting bigger. And then they passed the other houses altogether, driving through misty forest.

"It's really pretty out here," Nina complimented.

"It's my favourite place I've lived," Edward admitted. "Turn left up here."

She turned hesitantly onto an unpaved road. It was unmarked, barely visible among the ferns. The forest encroached on both sides, leaving the road ahead only discernible for a few meters as it twisted, serpentlike, around the ancient trees.

And then, after a few miles, there was some thinning of the woods, and they were suddenly in a small meadow, or was it actually a lawn? The gloom of the forest didn't relent, though, for there were six primordial cedars that shaded an entire acre with their vast sweep of branches. The trees held their protecting shadow right up to the walls of the house that rose among them.

She didn't know what she had expected, but it definitely wasn't this. The house was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years old. It was part concrete, part wood, covered in windows, three stories tall, rectangular and well proportioned. The windows and doors were either part of the original structure or a perfect restoration. Their car was the only car in sight. She could hear the river close by, hidden in the obscurity of the forest.

She held her foot on the break after he told her where it was best to park before changing gears and turning off the car.

"Wow."

"You like it?" He smiled.

"It... has a certain charm."

He pulled the end of her hair and chuckled. "Ready?" He asked, suddenly appearing outside, opening her door.

Nina nodded but it didn't stop her racing heart.

"You look lovely." He took her hand easily, without thinking about it.

They walked through the deep shade up to the porch. She knew he could feel her tension; his thumb rubbed soothing circles into the palm of her hand.

He opened the door for her.

The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior. It was very bright, very open, and very large. This must have originally been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most of the first floor to create one wide space. The back, south-facing wall had been entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high-beamed ceiling, the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying shades of white.

Waiting to greet them, standing just to the left of the door, on a raised portion of the floor by a spectacular grand piano, were Edward's parents.

She'd seen Dr. Cullen before, of course. At his side was Esme, she assumed, the only one of the family she'd never seen before. She had the same pale, beautiful features as the rest of them. Something about her heart-shaped face, her billows of soft, caramel-colored hair, reminded Nina of the ingénues of the silent-movie era. She was small, slender, yet less angular, more rounded than the others. They were both dressed casually, in light colors that matched the inside of the house. They smiled in welcome, but made no move to approach them. Trying not to frighten her, she guessed.

"Carlisle, Esme," Edward's voice broke the short silence, "this is Nina."

"You're very welcome, Nina." Carlisle's step was measured, careful as he approached her. He raised his hand tentatively, and she stepped forward to shake hands with him.

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen."

He smiled warmly at her. "Please, call me Carlisle."

"Carlisle." She grinned at him, her sudden comfort and confidence surprising her. She could feel Edward's relief at her side.

Esme smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for Nina's hand. Her cold, stone grasp was just as the witch expected.

"It's very nice to meet you," She said sincerely.

"Thank you. I'm glad to meet you, too." And she was. It was like meeting a fairy tale — Snow White, in the flesh.

"Where are Alice and Jasper?" Edward asked, but no one answered, as they had just appeared at the top of the wide staircase.

"Hey, Edward!" Alice called enthusiastically. She ran down the stairs, a streak of black hair and white skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop in front of her. Carlisle and Esme shot warning glances at her, but Nina only smiled. It was natural — for her, anyway.

"Hi, Nina!" Alice said, and she bounced forward to hug her. If Carlisle and Esme had looked cautious before, they now looked staggered. There was shock in her eyes, too, but she was also very pleased that she seemed to approve of her so entirely. She was startled to feel Edward stiffen at her side. She glanced at his face, but his expression was unreadable.

"Edwards right. I can practically feel the magic radiating off of you," She commented, to Nina's extreme embarrassment.

No one else seemed to know quite what to say, and then Jasper was there — tall and leonine. A feeling of ease spread through her, and she was suddenly comfortable despite where she was. She would have to thank him for that later.

"Hello, Nina," Jasper said, smiling at her. He kept his distance, not offering to shake her hand, but his smile told her he was happy with her presence.

"Hello, Jasper." The witch smiled at him, and then at the others. "It's nice to meet you all — you have a very beautiful home."

"Thank you," Esme said. "We're so glad that you came." She spoke with feeling, and Nina realized that she thought she was brave.

"Are Emmett and Rose coming?" Edward asked suddenly.

"They're just upstairs," Esme told him.

Carlisle's expression distracted her; he was gazing meaningfully at Edward with an intense expression. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Edward nod once.

Nina looked away, trying to be polite. Her eyes wandered again to the beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. She had always loved the piano. Before they had begun to move around the country, Natalie had owned one and had attempted to teach Nina how to play.

Esme noticed her preoccupation. "Do you play?" She asked, inclining her head toward the piano.

She shook her head. "Not at all. But it's so beautiful. Is it yours?"

"No," She laughed. "Edward didn't tell you he was musical?"

"No." She glared at his suddenly innocent expression with narrowed eyes. "I should have known, I guess."

Esme raised her delicate eyebrows in confusion.

"Edward can do everything, right?" She explained.

Jasper snickered and Esme gave Edward a reproving look. "I hope you haven't been showing off— it's rude," She scolded.

"Just a bit," He laughed freely. Her face softened at the sound, and they shared a brief look that Nina didn't understand, though Esme's face seemed almost smug.

"He's been too modest, actually," Nina corrected.

"Ah, we all knew he was a show off," A voice suddenly came from the staircase. Emmett's burly arm was suddenly wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her away from Edwards side. "Hey, little witch."

She smiled at him, "You're not going to corner me again, are you?" She glanced over at Rosalie who had walked toward them with a hesitant smile on her lips.

"It's nice to see you again, Nina." Rosalie's voice was somewhat forced, though her smile was true.

"You too, Rosalie."

"Well, play for her," Esme encouraged, going back to the piano.

"You just said showing off was rude," Edward objected, stealing Nina back from Emmett.

"There are exceptions to every rule," She replied.

"I'd like to hear you play," Nina admitted.

"It's settled then." Esme pushed him toward the piano. He pulled Nina along, sitting her on the bench beside him. He gave her a long, exasperated look before he turned to the keys.

And then his fingers flowed swiftly across the ivory, and the room was filled with a composition so complex, so luxuriant, it was impossible to believe only one set of hands played. Her eyes widened in astonishment, and heard low chuckles behind her at her reaction.

Edward looked at her casually, the music still surging around them without a break, and winked. "Do you like it?"

"You wrote this?" She gasped, understanding.

He nodded. "It's Esme's favorite."

The music slowed, transforming into something softer, and to her surprise she detected the melody of his lullaby weaving through the profusion of notes.

"You inspired this one," He said softly. The music grew unbearably sweet.

She couldn't speak.

"They like you, you know," He said conversationally. "Esme especially."

Nina glanced behind her, but the huge room was empty now.

"Where did they go?"

"Very subtly giving us some privacy, I suppose."

Esme and Carlisle?... Do they like me? She asked him through her thoughts.

"They are happy to see me happy. Actually, Esme wouldn't care if you had a third eye and webbed feet. All this time she's been worried about me, afraid that there was something missing from my essential makeup, that I was too young when Carlisle changed me... She's ecstatic. Every time I touch you, she just about chokes with satisfaction."

"Alice seems very... enthusiastic."

"Alice has her own way of looking at things," He said through tight lips.

"And you're not going to explain that, are you?"

A moment of wordless communication passed between them. He realized that she knew he was keeping something from her. She realized that he wasn't going to give anything away. Not now.

"So what was Carlisle telling you before?"

His eyebrows pulled together.

"You noticed that, did you?"

She shrugged. "I can be observant on occasion."

He looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering. "He wanted to tell me some news — he didn't know if it was something I would share with you."

"Will you?"

"I have to, because I'm going to be a little... overbearingly protective over the next few days — or weeks — and I wouldn't want you to think I'm naturally a tyrant."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious."

"Visitors?"

"Yes... Well, they aren't like us, of course — in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I'm certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they're gone."

She shivered.

"Finally, a rational response!" He murmured. "I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all."

She rolled her eyes, smacking his shoulder. Looking away, her eyes wandered again around the spacious room.

He followed her gaze. "Not what you expected, is it?" He asked, his voice smug.

"No," She admitted.

"No coffins, no piled skulls in the corners; I don't even think we have cobwebs... what a disappointment this must be for you," He continued slyly.

She ignored his teasing. "It's so light... so open."

He was more serious when he answered. "It's the one place we never have to hide."

The song he was still playing, her song, drifted to an end, the final chords shifting to a more melancholy key. The last note hovered poignantly in the silence.

"Thank you," She told him softly.

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

"No coffins?" She verified, the sarcasm in her voice not entirely masking the slight but genuine anxiety she felt.

He laughed, taking her hand, leading her away from the piano. "No coffins," He promised.

They walked up the massive staircase, her hand trailing along the satin smooth rail. The long hall at the top of the stairs was paneled with a honey colored wood, the same as the floorboards.

"Rosalie and Emmett's room... Carlisle's office... one of Alice's closets..." He gestured as he led her past the doors.

He would have continued, but she stopped dead at the end of the hall, staring incredulously at the ornament hanging on the wall above her head. Edward chuckled at her bewildered expression.

"You can laugh," He said. "It is sort of ironic."

She didn't laugh. Her hand raised automatically, one finger extended as if to touch the large wooden cross, its dark patina contrasting with the lighter tone of the wall. She didn't touch it, though she was curious if the aged wood would feel as silky as it looked.

"It must be very old," She guessed.

He shrugged. "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less."

She looked away from the cross to stare at him.

"Why do you keep this here?" She wondered.

"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father."

"He collected antiques?"

"No. He carved this himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached."

Nina swallowed her shock, returning her gaze back to the simple, ancient cross. The cross was over three hundred and seventy years old. The silence stretched on as she struggled to wrap her mind around the concept of so many years.

"Are you all right?" He sounded worried.

"How old is Carlisle?" She asked quietly, ignoring his question, still staring up.

"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday," Edward said. Nina looked back at him, a million questions in her eyes.

He watched her carefully as he spoke. "Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he believes. Time wasn't marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though."

She kept her face and mind composed, aware of his scrutiny as she listened.

"He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for werewolves, vampires and witches."

She grew very still at the word. She was sure he noticed, but he went on without pausing.

"They burned a lot of innocent people — of course the real creatures that he sought were not so easy to catch. When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of the raids. At first Carlisle was a disappointment; he was not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exist. But he was persistent, and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true vampires that lived hidden in the sewers of the city, only coming out by night to hunt. In those days, when monsters were not just myths and legends, that was the way many lived."

"The people gathered their pitchforks and torches, of course" — His brief laugh was darker now — "and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged."

His voice was very quiet; she strained to catch the words.

"He must have been ancient, and weak with hunger. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to the others when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran through the streets, and Carlisle — he was twenty-three and very fast — was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature could have easily outrun them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked. He fell on Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third, leaving Carlisle bleeding in the street."

He paused. She could tell he was thinking over his words, keeping something from her.

"Carlisle knew what his father would do. The bodies would be burned — anything infected by the monster must be destroyed. Carlisle acted instinctively to save his own life. He crawled away from the alley while the mob followed the fiend and his victim. He hid in a cellar, buried himself in rotting potatoes for three days. It's a miracle he was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered. It was over then, and he realized what he had become."

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"I'm fine," She assured him. She had expected their stories to be different from any other she had heard. And, though she bit her lip in hesitation, he must have seen the curiosity burning in her eyes.

He smiled. "I expect you have a few more questions for me."

"Only a couple."

His smile widened over his teeth. He started back down the hall, pulling her along by the hand. "Come on, then," He encouraged. "I'll show you."

He led her back to the room that he'd pointed out as Carlisle's office. He paused outside the door for an instant.

"Come in," Carlisle's voice invited.

Edward opened the door to a high-ceilinged room with tall, west-facing windows. The walls were paneled again, in a darker wood — where they were visible. Most of the wall space was taken up by towering bookshelves that reached high above my head and held more books than she'd ever seen outside a library.

Carlisle sat behind a huge mahogany desk in a leather chair. He was just placing a bookmark in the pages of the thick volume he held. The room was how she'd always imagined a college dean's would look — only Carlisle looked too young to fit the part.

"What can I do for you?" He asked them pleasantly, rising from his seat with a smile.

"I wanted to show Nina some of our history," Edward said. "Well, your history, actually."

"We didn't mean to disturb you," Nina apologized.

Carlisle smiled at her. "Not at all. Where are you going to start?"

"The Waggoner," Edward replied, placing one hand lightly on her shoulder and spinning her around to look back toward the door we'd just come through.

The wall they faced now was different from the others. Instead of bookshelves, this wall was crowded with framed pictures of all sizes, some in vibrant colors, others dull monochromes. Nina searched for some logic, some binding motif the collection had in common, but she found nothing in her hasty examination.

Edward pulled her toward the far left side, standing her in front of a small square oil painting in a plain wooden frame. This one did not stand out among the bigger and brighter pieces; painted in varying tones of sepia, it depicted a miniature city full of steeply slanted roofs, with thin spires atop a few scattered towers. A wide river filled the foreground, crossed by a bridge covered with structures that looked like tiny cathedrals.

"London in the sixteen-fifties," Edward said.

"The London of my youth," Carlisle added, from a few feet behind us. Nina flinched; she hadn't heard him approach. Edward squeezed her hand.

"Will you tell the story?" Edward asked. She twisted a little to see Carlisle's reaction. He met her glance and smiled.

"I would," He replied. "But I'm actually running a bit late. The hospital called this morning — Dr. Snow is taking a sick day. Besides, you know the stories as well as I do," he added, grinning at Edward now. His eyes then moved to Nina's, "Should I be telling your mother where you are?"

Nina's quick exhale of breath told him all he needed to know. His grin widened. "I won't tell her a thing, then."

It was a strange combination to absorb — the everyday concerns of the town doctor stuck in the middle of a discussion of his early days in seventeenth-century London. It was also unsettling to know that he spoke aloud only for her benefit. After another warm smile for her, Carlisle left the room.

She stared at the little picture of Carlisle's hometown for a long moment. "What happened then?" She finally asked, staring up at Edward, who was watching her.

"When he realized what had happened to him?" He glanced back to the paintings, and she looked to see which image caught his interest now. It was a larger landscape in dull fall colors — an empty, shadowed meadow in a forest, with a craggy peak in the distance. "When he knew what he had become," Edward said quietly, "he rebelled against it. He tried to destroy himself. But that's not easily done."

"How?" She didn't mean to say it aloud, but the word broke through her shock.

"He jumped from great heights," Edward told her, his voice impassive. "He tried to drown himself in the ocean... but he was young to the new life, and very strong. It is amazing that he was able to resist... feeding... while he was still so new. The instinct is more powerful then, it takes over everything. But he was so repelled by himself that he had the strength to try to kill himself with starvation."

"Is that possible?" Her voice was faint.

"No, there are very few ways we can be killed. So he grew very hungry, and eventually weak. He strayed as far as he could from the human populace, recognizing that his willpower was weakening, too. For months he wandered by night, seeking the loneliest places, loathing himself. One night, a herd of deer passed his hiding place. He was so wild with thirst that he attacked without a thought. His strength returned and he realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster he feared. Had he not eaten venison in his former life? Over the next months his new philosophy was born. He could exist without being a demon. He found himself again. He began to make better use of his time. He'd always been intelligent, eager to learn. Now he had unlimited time before him. He studied by night, planned by day. He swam to France and—"

"He swam to France?"

"People swim the Channel all the time, Nina," He reminded her patiently.

"That's true, I guess. It just sounded funny in that context. Go on."

"Swimming is easy for us–"

"Everything is easy for you," She griped. He waited, his expression amused. "I won't interrupt again, I promise."

He chuckled darkly, and finished his sentence. "Because, technically, we don't need to breathe."

"You–"

"No, no, you promised." He laughed, putting his cold finger lightly to her lips. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"You can't spring something like that on me, and then expect me not to say anything," She mumbled against his finger. He lifted his hand, moving it to rest against her neck. The speed of her heart reacted to that, but she persisted.

"You don't have to breathe?"

"No, it's not necessary. Just a habit." He shrugged.

"How long can you go... without breathing?"

"Indefinitely, I suppose; I don't know. It gets a bit uncomfortable — being without a sense of smell."

"A bit uncomfortable," She echoed. The silence lengthened. His features were immobile as stone. "What is it?" She whispered, touching his frozen face.

His face softened under her hand, and he sighed. "I keep waiting for it to happen."

"For what to happen?"

"I know that at some point, something I tell you or something you see is going to be too much. And then you'll run away from me, screaming as you go." He smiled half a smile, but his eyes were serious. "I won't stop you. I want this to happen, because I want you to be safe. And yet, I want to be with you. The two desires are impossible to reconcile..." He trailed off, staring at her face. Waiting.

"I'm not running anywhere," She promised.

"We'll see," He said, smiling again.

She frowned at him. "So, go on — Carlisle was swimming to France."

He paused, getting back into his story. Reflexively, his eyes flickered to another picture — the most colorful of them all, the most ornately framed, and the largest; it was twice as wide as the door it hung next to. The canvas overflowed with bright figures in swirling robes, writhing around long pillars and off marbled balconies. She couldn't tell if it represented Greek mythology, or if the characters floating in the clouds above were meant to be biblical.

"Carlisle swam to France, and continued on through Europe, to the universities there. By night he studied music, science, medicine — and found his calling, his penance, in that, in saving human lives." His expression became awed, almost reverent. "I can't adequately describe the struggle; it took Carlisle two centuries of torturous effort to perfect his self-control. Now he is all but immune to the scent of human blood, and he is able to do the work he loves without agony. He finds a great deal of peace there, at the hospital..."

Edward stared off into space for a long moment. Suddenly he seemed to recall his purpose. He tapped his finger against the huge painting in front of us. "He was studying in Italy when he discovered the others there. They were much more civilized and educated than the wraiths of the London sewers."

He touched a comparatively sedate quartet of figures painted on the highest balcony, looking down calmly on the mayhem below them. She examined the grouping carefully and realized, with a startled laugh, that she recognized the golden-haired man.

"Solimena was greatly inspired by Carlisle's friends. He often painted them as gods," Edward chuckled. "Aro, Marcus, Caius," He said, indicating the other three, two black-haired, one snowy-white. "Nighttime patrons of the arts."

"What happened to them?" She wondered aloud, her fingertip hovering a centimeter from the figures on the canvas.

"They're still there." He shrugged. "As they have been for who knows how many millennia. Carlisle stayed with them only for a short time, just a few decades. He greatly admired their civility, their refinement, but they persisted in trying to cure his aversion to 'his natural food source,' as they called it. They tried to persuade him, and he tried to persuade them, to no avail. At that point, Carlisle decided to try the New World. He dreamed of finding others like himself. He was very lonely, you see."

"He didn't find anyone for a long time. But, as monsters became the stuff of fairy tales, he found he could interact with unsuspecting humans as if he were one of them. He began practicing medicine. But the companionship he craved evaded him; he couldn't risk familiarity."

"When the influenza epidemic hit, he was working nights in a hospital in Chicago. He'd been turning over an idea in his mind for several years, and he had almost decided to act — since he couldn't find a companion, he would create one. He wasn't absolutely sure how his own transformation had occurred, so he was hesitant. And he was loath to steal anyone's life the way his had been stolen. It was in that frame of mind that he found me. There was no hope for me; I was left in a ward with the dying. He had nursed my parents, and knew I was alone. He decided to try..."

His voice, nearly a whisper now, trailed off. He stared unseeingly through the west windows. She wondered which images filled his mind now, Carlisle's memories or his own. She waited quietly. When he turned back to her, a gentle angel's smile lit his expression.

"And so we've come full circle," He concluded.

"Have you always stayed with Carlisle, then?" She wondered, remembering how he'd told her he had rebelled at one point.

"Almost always." He put his hand lightly on her waist and pulled her with him as he walked through the door. She stared back at the wall of pictures, wondering if she would ever get to hear the other stories.

Edward didn't say any more as they walked down the hall, so she asked, "Almost?"

He sighed, seeming reluctant to answer. "Well, I had a typical bout of rebellious adolescence — about ten years after I was... born...created, whatever you want to call it. I wasn't sold on his life of abstinence, and I resented him for curbing my appetite. So I went off on my own for a time, doing as you already know..."

She was intrigued, rather than frightened, as she perhaps should have been. He could tell.

"That doesn't repulse you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I guess... it sounds reasonable." He barked a laugh, more loudly than before.

They were at the top of the stairs now, in another paneled hallway. "From the time of my new birth," He murmured, "I had the advantage of knowing what everyone around me was thinking, both human and nonhuman alike. That's why it took me ten years to defy Carlisle — I could read his perfect sincerity, understand exactly why he lived the way he did. It took me only a few years to return to Carlisle and recommit to his vision. I thought I would be exempt from the... depression... that accompanies a conscience. Because I knew the thoughts of my prey, I could pass over the innocent and pursue only the evil. If I followed a murderer down a dark alley where he stalked a young girl — if I saved her, then surely I wasn't so terrible."

She shivered, imagining only too clearly what he described — the alley at night, the frightened girl, the dark man behind her. And Edward, Edward as he hunted, terrible and glorious as a young god, unstoppable.

Would she have been grateful, that girl, or more frightened than before?

"But as time went on, I began to see the monster in my eyes. I couldn't escape the debt of so much human life taken, no matter how justified. And I went back to Carlisle and Esme. They welcomed me back like the prodigal. It was more than I deserved."

They'd come to a stop in front of the last door in the hall.

"My room," He informed her, opening it and pulling her through.

His room faced south, with a wall-sized window like the great room below. The whole back side of the house must be glass. His view looked down on the winding Sol Duc River, across the untouched forest to the Olympic Mountain range. The mountains were much closer than she would have believed.

The western wall was completely covered with shelf after shelf of CDs. His room was better stocked than a music store. In the corner was a sophisticated-looking sound system, the kind she was afraid to touch because she'd be sure to break something. There was no bed, only a wide and inviting black leather sofa. The floor was covered with a thick golden carpet, and the walls were hung with heavy fabric in a slightly darker shade.

"Good acoustics?" She guessed. He chuckled and nodded. He picked up a remote and turned the stereo on. It was quiet, but the soft jazz number sounded like the band was in the room with them.

She went to look at his mind-boggling music collection. "How do you have these organized?" She asked, unable to find any rhyme or reason to the titles. He wasn't paying attention.

"Um, by year, and then by personal preference within that frame," He said absently.

She turned, and he was looking at her with a peculiar expression in his eyes. "What?"

"I was prepared to feel... relieved. Having you know about everything, not needing to keep secrets from you. But I didn't expect to feel more than that. I like it. It makes me... happy." He shrugged, smiling slightly.

"I'm glad," Nina said, smiling back. She'd worried that he might regret telling me these things. It was good to know that wasn't the case.

But then, as his eyes dissected her expression, his smile faded and his forehead creased.

"You're still waiting for the running and the screaming, aren't you?" Nina guessed. A faint smile touched his lips, and he nodded. "I hate to burst your bubble, but you're really not as scary as you think you are. I don't find you scary at all, actually," She lied casually.

He stopped, raising his eyebrows in blatant disbelief. Then he flashed a wide, wicked smile.

"You really shouldn't have said that," He chuckled. He growled, a low sound in the back of his throat; his lips curled back over his perfect teeth. His body shifted suddenly, tensed like a lion about to pounce.

She backed away from him, glaring.

"You wouldn't."

She didn't see him leap at her— it was much too fast. She only found herself suddenly airborne, and then they crashed onto the sofa, knocking it into the wall. All the while, his arms formed an iron cage of protection around her— she was barely jostled.

But she still was gasping as she tried to right herself. He wasn't having that. He curled her into a ball against his chest, holding her more securely than iron chains. She glared at him in alarm, but he seemed well in control, his jaw relaxed as he grinned, his eyes bright only with humor.

"You were saying?" He growled playfully.

She grinned suddenly, leaning forward to whisper something in his ear. "Dimiterre." He instantly flew across the room, his back gently hitting the wall.

Nina sat up comfortably, holding her hand out, keeping him pinned. "You seem to forget I'm not human, Eeyore. How long do you want to stay there?"

Edward grinned at her.

"Can we come in?" A soft voice sounded from the hall. She could see it was Alice, then, and Jasper behind her in the doorway.

"Go ahead." Edward was still chuckling quietly, though a force pushed him against the wall a little harder.

Alice grinned, seeing the almost invisible force of Nina's magic holding Edward against the wall; she walked — almost danced, her movements were so graceful — to the center of the room, where she folded herself sinuously onto the floor. Jasper, however, paused at the door, his expression a trifle shocked. He stared at Edward's face, and she wondered if he was tasting the atmosphere with his unusual sensitivity.

"It sounded like you were having Nina for lunch, but now that I see, it might be the opposite," Alice announced. "How long can you keep him there?"

The witch grinned mischievously, "How long do you suppose?"

"A few hours would do him good."

"You wouldn't do that, right? Darling–"

She waved her freehand. "Silencio." His mouth was sealed shut but his glare didn't falter.

Jasper chuckled at the sight of his brother. "I see you two are getting along well."

The witch grinned, "We're bonding."

"Actually," Jasper said, smiling despite himself as he walked into the room, "Alice says there's going to be a real storm tonight, and Emmett wants to play ball. Are you game?"

Nina waved her hand again, taking down the spell.

"Did that stop me from breathing?" Edward asked her, taking in a breath.

"You're fine. You just said you don't need to breathe."

"I said I don't need to but that I like too," He grumbled, glancing at his siblings who both watched them with budding curiosity. Alice and Jasper both enjoyed Nina's company, he could tell by their body language alone.

Edward's eyes lit up when he recalled what Jasper had asked, but he hesitated.

"Of course you should bring Nina," Alice chirped.

"Do you want to go?" Edward asked her, excited, his expression vivid.

"Sure." She couldn't disappoint such a face. "Although, I am not the most coordinated with things being thrown at me. Just ask Emmett."

Alice grinned, "Oh yes. He told me all about your badminton and football escapades and the time you tripped on your foot and knocked your face into the bleachers–"

"That's how you got that bruise on your temple?" Edward asked,  grinning in amusement. 

Nina rolled her eyes at him. "Of course he did... Where are we going?"

"We have to wait for thunder to play ball — you'll see why," He promised.

"Will I need an umbrella?"

They all three laughed aloud.

"Will she?" Jasper asked Alice.

"No." She was positive. "The storm will hit over town. It should be dry enough in the clearing."

"Good, then." The enthusiasm in Jasper's voice was catching, naturally. She found herself eager, rather than scared stiff.

"Let's go see if Esme will come." Alice bounded up and to the door in a fashion that would break any ballerina's heart.

"Like you don't know," Jasper teased, and they were swiftly on their way. Jasper managed to inconspicuously close the door behind them.

"What will we be playing?" She asked somewhat nervously. "I'm really shit at sports. I tried soccer once and I quit immediately after I fell into a puddle of mud."

"How long did you last?"

She blushed. "That was my first day. I lasted ten minutes."

He bit his lip in amusement. He could see the memory through her eyes. She had also quit because she didn't like the fact that the jerseys were orange.

"You will be watching," Edward clarified. "We will be playing baseball."

She rolled her eyes but was grateful she didn't have to play. "Vampires like baseball?"

"It's the American pastime," He said with mock solemnity.