CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE:

Washington, Seattle: Bree Tanner

"Is it time?" Riley asked eagerly.

Our creator's answer came back fast, like a slap. "No! I haven't decided when."

"I don't understand."

"You don't need to. It's enough for you to know that our enemies have great powers. We cannot be too careful." Her voice softened, turned sugary again. "But all twenty-two still alive. Even with what they are capable of... what good will it be against twenty-two?" She let out a tinkling little laugh. Diego and I had not looked away from each other throughout al this, and I could see in his eyes now that his thoughts were the same as mine. Yes, we'd been created for a purpose, as we'd guessed. We had an enemy. Or, our creator had an enemy. Did the distinction matter?

"Decisions, decisions," she muttered. "Not yet. Maybe one more handful, just to be sure."

"Adding more might actually decrease our numbers," Riley cautioned hesitantly, as if being careful not to upset her. "It's always unstable when a new group is introduced."

"True," she agreed, and I imagined Riley sighing in relief that she was not upset.

Abruptly Diego looked away from me, staring out across the meadow. I hadn't heard any movement from the house, but maybe she had come out. My head whipped around at the same time the rest of me turned to a statue, and I saw what had startled Diego.

Four figures were crossing the open field to the house. They had entered the clearing from the west, the point farthest from where we hid. They all wore long, dark cloaks with deep hoods, so at first I thought they were people. Weird people, but just humans al the same, because none of the vampires I knew had matching Goth clothes. And none moved in a way that was so smooth and controlled and... elegant. But then I realized that none of the humans I'd ever seen could move that way, either, and what's more, they couldn't do it so quietly. The dark-cloaks skimmed across the long grass in absolute silence. So either these were vampires, or they were  something else supernatural. Ghosts, maybe. But if they were vampires, they were vampires I didn't know, and that meant they might very well be these enemies she was talking about. If so, we should get the hell out of Dodge right now, because we didn't have twenty other vampires on our side at the moment.

I almost took off then, but I was too afraid to draw the attention of the cloaked figures.

So I watched them move smoothly forward, noticing other things about them. How they stayed in a perfect diamond formation that never was the slightest bit out of line no matter how the terrain changed under their feet. How the one at the point of the diamond was much smaller than the others, and its cloak was darker, too. How they didn't seem to be tracking their way in- not trying to follow the path of any scent. They simply knew their way. Maybe they were invited.

They moved directly toward the house, and I felt like it might be safe to breathe again when they started silently up the steps toward the front door. They weren't coming straight for Diego and me, at least. When they were out of sight, we could disappear into the sound of the next breeze through the trees, and they would never know we'd been here.

I looked at Diego and twitched my head slightly toward the way we'd come. He narrowed his eyes and held up one finger. Oh great, he wanted to stay. I rolled my eyes at him, though I was so afraid, I was surprised I was capable of sarcasm. We both looked back to the house. The cloaked things had let themselves in silently, but I realized that neither she nor Riley had spoken since we'd caught sight of the visitors. They must have heard something or known in some other way that they were in danger.

"Don't bother," a very clear, monotone voice commanded lazily. It was not as high-pitched as our creator's, but it still sounded girlish to me. "I think you know who we are, so you must know that there is no point in trying to surprise us. Or hide from us. Or fight us. Or run." A deep, masculine chuckle that did not belong to Riley echoed menacingly through the house.

"Relax," instructed the first inflectionless voice- the cloaked girl. Her voice had that distinctive ring that made me certain she was a vampire, not a ghost or any other kind of nightmare. "We're not here to destroy you. Yet." There was a moment of silence, and then some barely audible movements. A shifting of positions.

"If you are not here to kill us, then... what?" our creator asked, strained and shrill.

"We seek to know your intentions here. Specifically, if they involve... a certain local clan," the cloaked girl explained. "We wonder if they have anything to do with the mayhem you've created here. Illegally created."

Diego and I frowned simultaneously. None of this made sense, but the last part was the weirdest. What could be illegal for vampires? What cop, what judge, what prison could have power over us?

"Yes," our creator hissed. "My plans are all about them. But we can't move yet. It's tricky." A petulant note crept into her voice at the end.

"Trust me, we know the difficulties better than you. It is remarkable that you've managed to keep off the radar, so to speak, for this long. Tell me" - a hint of interest colored the monotone - "how are you doing it?" Our creator hesitated, and then spoke al in a rush. Almost as if there had been some silent intimidation.

"I haven't made the decision," she spit out. Then she added more slowly, unwillingly, "To attack. I've never decided to do anything with them."

"Rough, but effective," the cloaked girl said. "Unfortunately, your period of deliberation has come to a close. You must decide- now- what you will do with your little army." Both Diego's and my eyes widened at that word. "Otherwise, it will be our duty to punish you as the law demands. This reprieve, however short, troubles me. It is not our way. I suggest you give us what assurances you can... quickly."

"We'll go at once!" Riley volunteered anxiously, and there was a sharp hiss.

"We'll go as soon as possible," our creator amended furiously. "There is much to do. I assume you wish us to succeed? Then I must have a little time to get them trained- instructed- fed!"

There was a short pause.

"Seven days. We will come for you then. And there is no rock you can hide under or speed at which you can flee that will save you. If you have not made your attack by the time we come, you will burn." This was said with no menace other than an absolute certainty.

"And if I have made my attack?" our creator asked, shaken.

"We'll see," the cloaked girl answered in a brighter tone than she'd used yet. "I suppose that all depends on how successful you are. Work hard to please us." The last command was given in a flat, hard pitch that made me feel a strange chill in the center of my body.

"Yes," our creator snarled.

"Yes," Riley echoed in a whisper.

-

-

Washington, Forks: Bella Swan

Consciousness comes back in bits and pieces.

First it's the feeling of being held in stone arms.

Later it's a quiet voice; I don't remember the words.

A ray of sun, streaming on my face.

Tugging sensations as someone braids flowers in my hair (they smell like oranges).

A hand circling my wrist, skin so hot it almost burns, thumb brushing against where my pulse flutters under my skin.

Small, icy fingers trailing along my forehead.

A chair being dragged across floorboards.

Beautiful eyes that meet mine the moment they first open, and even in my groggy state, blinking several times to try and bring the world into focus, I recognize them.

The irises are inky black, indistinguishable from the pupil, and the purple underneath them is darker then I've ever seen it; not even in Italy did my vampire look so starved.

"Hey you," I murmur, and a soft, relieved smile curves his lips.

"Bella," he breathes my name, leaning down to press his icy lips against mine. There's no urgency, no rush- as kisses go, it was chaste, a brushing of lips, but the overwhelming emotion in it almost took my breath away.

"You look really Thirsty," I lift my hand to touch my fingertips to the purple bruises. He gives a weak smile.

"I wouldn't leave your side."

"Sweet Merlin, I love you, you wonderful man." I tell him, "I don't know how it's possible that you exist, or what I did to deserve you." He laughs, obviously in disbelief, but I don't care, because I know that he is the closest thing to my perfect second half that exists on this planet.

Edward lifts my hand away from his face, gently kissing my knuckles, before lowering it, our hands clasped together on his lap.

"So," he murmurs softly, "you have an important choice to make, love." For a moment I think he's talking about me being Turned into a vampire. I remember his conversation with Carlisle and make a note that when we're somewhere private (I don't know who could be listening to this) I'll make sure it's clear to him that if I'm ever in a situation like that again, he can Turn me.

"What important decision?" I ask, nervously, fighting my way through the cobwebs in my head so I can think clearly.

"Well," he says, seriously, though I can see the soft look in his eyes, "which news do you want to hear first- the good news, the bad news or the worse news?"

"That order's fine." I tell him, slumping on my pillows, "I'd like to hear the good news before I get too depressed to really enjoy it."

"Well, the good news is you missed the biology final," Edward says, with a crooked smile, "Luna glamoured Rosalie to go sit it for you so you wouldn't have to deal with the fuss of re-sitting it."

"Oh thank Merlin," I can't help my smile. No more biology, ever again! Ever!

"The bad news," Edward's expression goes serious again, and the corners of my mouth tug down as I remember that I've now got two pieces of bad news to hear- well, 'bad' news and 'worse' news, which isn't very comforting at all. "The bad news is that Victoria's finally decided on a date- it's within a week from Friday." I shudder at the unpleasant reminder of the army of freshly turned vampires loyal to a leader whose current sole purpose in her unlife is to kill me, and as many of my loved ones as possible while she's at it.

"There's worse news then that?" I ask, incredulously.

"Much worse," Edward says, but his face isn't so serious now, the hard edges of his expression somewhat softened, which just serves to confuse me.  

"What is it?" I ask in trepidation.

"You've woken up in time for Alice's graduation party," Edward says, with a perfectly straight face.

"What?" I ask, my voice shrill enough it actually cracks. Edward's instantly passing me a glass of water which I gulp down eagerly.

"Today is Thursday," Edward explains, as he places down the now empty glass.

"Thursday?" I ask, numbly. "I've been unconscious for two days?"

"Ah, nine actually." Edward corrects. "All the exams finished today."

I try to wrap my brain around the fact I'd be unconscious so long, but the first thing I can think to say is; "You haven't fed for over nine days?"

"I can endure mild discomfort to stay by your side as you fight for your life, Bella," Edward says, and his face is so sincere that I forget to be angry at my sweet, sweet man.

"You are ridiculous," I tell him, even as I tug our joined hands back towards me, raising them to rest my cheek against his cool skin. "My ridiculous, ridiculous husband-to-be." He laughs softly, and I sigh happily, just relaxing into this peaceful moment.

I doze off, and when I wake up again, it's Qiang who's leaning over me, prodding my cheek with her wand. "Good, you're awake," she says, briskly.

"Qiang?" I ask, sleepily. She prods me again. "Ow!" I complain, and she narrows her eyes at me.

"You were cursed by one of the Darkest witches of our time, and you didn't think to ask me to look at it?" she demands, and I cringe back into my pillow.

"I was giving you time to be with your family!" I protest. Qiang glowers fiercely.

"I'd already lost Sue to that monster and his followers, then you made me almost lose you too!" She snaps, "I would have had no problem coming and making sure you were physically well, you foolish, reckless girl!" It finally clicks to me why she's so angry- she was worried, and not just worried about a patient, but... as a friend.  

"I'm sorry, Qiang," I tell her, earnestly. "I know I did the wrong thing, and I am so sorry. Worrying everyone is the last thing I ever want to do."

"You seem to be making a habit of it, anyway," Qiang says, sharply, and I cringe again, guilt pooling inside me, and her expression softens. "You have good intentions, Bella, but you need to be more careful." She says, and I nod, shamed.

"She's awake again?" I look around at the new voice, and wonder for a moment if I'm hallucinating as Hermione Granger walks into the room. Hermione is dressed in jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back from her face, and she smiles at me, looking relieved. "How are you feeling?" she asks, hurrying over to my side.

"Good. I mean, really confused, but good." She laughs, and the sound is filled with relief.

"Luna asked Harry and I for help, when Dr. Li couldn't figure out how to fight the curse in your body," she explains, "Luna was hoping that if Qiang knew which curse had been used and how I'd patched you up during the battle, she'd be able to figure out a cure. Harry brought over the pensieve so Dr. Li could witness it first-hand, then she and I worked on creating a cure."

"The curse Lestrange hit you with was a hybrid of two very nasty curses." Qiang speaks up again, "we had to dismantle the spell and create a cure for it while keeping you alive, which certainly wasn't easy with your blood turned to poison, and all the important organs and systems shutting down."

"The Dark magic in the curse should have gone into effect and poisoned you much quicker," Hermione explains as I shudder, "It's a failsafe, in case the immediate wound and blood loss doesn't kill the receiver. The Essence of Dittany fought the effects, but it wasn't strong enough, and when it eventually dissipated, the Dark magic had full reign to attack your body from the inside."

"An insidious piece of magic," Qiang says, and I can hear the fury in her voice, but it isn't directed at me. "I sent the Missus Weasley a fruit basket in thanks for ridding us all of the monster who cast it on you."

"Wait," alarm shoots through me, and I manage to push myself up into a sitting position, Hermione and Qiang both moving forwards to help me, Qiang giving the back of my hand a smack. I wince, apologize quickly, and then hurriedly ask, "Who watched the memory?" I can see the sudden understanding in Qiang's eyes.

"Only Miss Granger and myself," she assures me. "And rest assured, we are both talented in guarding our minds, you silly, selfless girl." I look around, warily, and Qiang huffs a breath. "The room is silenced, Bella."

"Oh good," I sigh, "I really didn't want Edward to have to see that- any of it." It's bad enough that he has to listen to my nightmares, calm my panic attacks and then have to witness what just happened- he doesn't need to see the actual battle, and I certainly don't want him seeing how I stepped in front of the curse for Luna.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Hermione says, gently. "You did a very noble thing, and at a great personal price." I shudder, my hand moving to gently brush against the scar. I'm surprised when sharp pain doesn't hit me at the contact, instead just a low throbbing.

I push the sheets covering me down, grimace at the hospital gown I'm wearing, then move the stiff white material up to expose the scar. It's not inflamed anymore, and it doesn't look nearly as thick or red.

"It won't fade much further," Hermione says, and I bite back the urge to snort, because at this point, one more scar isn't a big deal- I'm certainly not winning any beauty pageants, but that's fine, I don't need to. I'm alive, I'm in love, and I'm with my family. That's all I need.

"Is there anything else you'd like to ask?" Hermione asks, and I give her a small smile.

"I've just got one question- if I'm at home, why am I in a hospital gown?" Hermione laughs, and even Qiang gives an accommodating snort of amusement before answering, amused.

"Dr. Carlisle was very thorough in his set up of this room. There's even a stack of bed-pans, should you need the bathroom at any point." I cringe as Hermione laughs harder, presumably at my horrified expression.

Bed-pans; if I never have to use one of those again for the rest of my life, then I will die a happy woman. 

Hermione looks at her wristwatch, something small, silver and undeniably muggle, and grimaces slightly. "Snape will be awake by now," she says, and I blanch.

"Wh-what? Is he still here?" I ask, panicked.

"Harry and M-Minerva are talking to him," Hermione says, quietly, stumbling slightly over Professor McGonagall's first name. "It still feels odd calling her that." She mutters quietly, mostly to herself.

"I can't imagine calling Flitwick anything other then Flitwick," I admit, and she smiles, before sighing.

"Harry, Minerva and I worked together to set up a new identity for him," she explains, "Harry and Minerva will talk through it through with him, including details like explaining why 'Severus Snape' has to stay legally dead, and where a house for him has been set up."

"So he's leaving today?" I ask, probably sounding a bit too eager.

"Yes," Hermione confirms, and I let out a badly hidden sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry," I tell her, "he just... I don't want him with my family. I- I get that he's on the side of Light, but... it's hard to overlook everything else."

"I know," Hermione sighs, running her fingers through her pony-tail. "It's why he has to stay dead- people won't accept him, and I don't blame them. He was never a nice man. A good man, maybe, but not a nice one."

"Are the trials for the Death Eaters going well?" I ask, and she lightens up.

"Yes, all the surviving Inner Circle members have been sentenced according to the laws set by the International Confederation of Wizards. Minerva has been appointed a member of the ICW, and so has Kingsley after the Wizengamot voted him in as the official Minister of Magic. The ICW sent in two representatives to sit in on the trails, to ensure a fair outcome, and so far eleven Inner Circle members have been given the death penalty, and the rest life in prison with no chance of ever being released."

"Good," I say, fiercely.

"Kingsley is already working big changes into the Ministry," Hermione continues, "the Wizengamot still consists of the Lords and Ladies of the Noble families, but he's going to model them after the muggle government, in that an equal amount of members will be voted in. Some of the old families won't be happy, but they can't afford not to be supportive of the government right now, and we're taking advantage of that."

"'We'?" I ask, with a smile, and Hermione goes pink.

"Well, until Hogwarts starts again, I'm serving as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Kingsley offered me the job permanently, but I plan on returning to complete my seventh year at Hogwarts."

"Couldn't you do both? I mean, Umbridge," here both Hermione and I scowl identically, "was Fudge's Senior Undersecretary while she was also his plant in Hogwarts." 

"Kingsley pointed that out too," Hermione nods, "but I want to be able to give my full effort, to both my seventh year and to any post I hold in the Ministry."

"You're pretty amazing, Hermione." I tell her, and she goes pink again.

There's a knock and Qiang, whose presence I actually forgot, opens the door. Harry Potter sticks his head in. "Hi Bella, I'm glad you're feeling better," he greets me, before turning to Hermione. "He agreed to all the terms, and I've given him the Portkey." He told her, and she nodded, pulling out her wand.

"I'll go tell Kingsley. I'm glad you're okay, Bella." She smiles at me, before apparating away with a soft pop.

"Snape says thanks, by the way," Harry turns back to me again, "well," he pauses, "he implied it, anyway. In his way." I feel the blood drain from my face. "Bella?" Harry opens the door, stepping fully into the room, concerned. "Are you okay? Dr. Li?" He turns to Qiang, who rolls her eyes.

"She's panicking, not hurt."

"Panicking?" He turns back to me. I'm trying to breathe properly through uncooperative lungs as I stare at Harry, horrified.

"You told him about me?" I just about squeak, "he knows I was involved?" I wonder if I'm about to start hyperventilating, because it certainly feels like I am.

Qiang strides over to me, the ends of the long, loose sleeves of her traditional Chinese embroidered robes brushing against the ground as she pushes them up to her elbows. The slap hurts, a sudden, stinging pain, but it serves its purpose, and I stop freaking out and start breathing properly again.

"Snape- he- he knows that I...?" I look over at a chagrined Harry, who Qiang is glaring at.

"I... I apologize. He asked who was responsible for his continued ability to take breath, and I told him it was you, and a vampire trained as a surgeon." Harry says, quietly. I exhale, shakily.

"He's gone, though, right? And he doesn't know where here is?"

"Only that we're in America," confirms Harry, "and Minerva took the portkey with him, and she won't return his wand to him until they're at the house that's been set up for him."

The tight ball of panic in my chest eases and I sigh in relief. It's like Hermione said; Snape might be a good man, but he isn't a nice man, and I don't have a single positive memory of him. Actually, no, I do have one memory- when Snape knocked Lockhart back on his arse in my first year, during that sham of a Dueling Club.

Harry bids his goodbye before leaving, and Qiang pats my hand briskly before sweeping out of the room. I'm alone for maybe ten, fifteen minutes before Edward and Alice both enter the room.

Alice practically skips over to my side and plants a kiss on my cheek. "You owe me a handbag," she says, "that was a Hilde Palladino Gadino bag, Bella!"

"You know I'll never be able to afford that," I point out and she sniffs.

"You'll have to make it up to me in some other way then."

"You've already got something in mind, don't you?" I ask, with a sinking heart. Edward chuckles softly under his breath as he picks up my other hand, gently brushing his lips against the palm. Alice smiles like a hungry cat.

"Let me dress you up for graduation and the after party, and I'll forgive you for ruining my thirty-eight thousand dollar handbag."

"Thirty-eight thousand- Sweet Morgana, Alice!" I splutter, "How is it possible that a handbag costs that much? Why would you take a handbag that costs that much to school?" Alice just arches an eyebrow and flicks a speck of imaginary dust of her skirt.

"Well?" she drawls.

"Urgh! Fine!" I groan. In response, Alice smiles like the angel she most certainly isn't.