Christian led us back to the room that Edward had pointed out as Carlisle's office. He paused outside the door for an instant.
"Come in," Carlisle's voice invited.
Edward stepped forward and opened the door to a high-ceiling room with tall, west-facing windows. The walls were paneled again, in a dark wood â 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 I'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 I'd always imagined a college dean's would look â only Carlisle looked too young to fit the part.
"What can I do for you?" he asked us pleasantly, rising from his seat.
"I wanted to show the girls some of our history," Christian said with Edward agreeing. "Well, your history, actually."
"We didn't mean to disturb you," I apologized.
"Not at all. Where are you going to start?"
"The Waggoner," Edward replied, placing one hand lightly on Bella's shoulder and spinning her around to look back toward the door we'd just come through. I turned before Christian had a chance to guide me the same way, in even the most casual way, my heart always had an audible reaction. It was more embarrassing with Carlisle there and my sister seemed to feel this, too.
The wall we 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. I searched for some logic, some binding motif the collection had in common, but I found nothing in my hasty examination.
Edward pulled Bella toward the far left side, standing her in front of a small square oil painting in a plain wooden frame and we walked over to meet them. 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. I flinched; I hadn't heard him approach. Christian squeezed my hand.
"I wasn't in London much," Christian confirmed for me. So he and Carlisle hadn't met.
"Will you tell the story?" Edward asked. I twisted a little to see Carlisle's reaction.
He met my glance and smiled. "I would," he replied. "But I'm actually running a bit late. The hospital called this morning â Dr. Snow is taking a sick day. Besides, you know the stories as well as I do," he added, grinning at Edward now.
It was a strange combination to absorb â 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 the benefit of few.
After another warm smile for my twin and I, Carlisle left the room.
I stared at the little picture of Carlisle's hometown for a long moment.
"What happened then?" Bella 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 I looked to see which image caught his interest now. It was a larger landscape in dull fall colors â 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?" I didn't mean to say it aloud, but the word broke through my shock.
"He jumped from great heights," Edward told us, 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?" Bella's voice was faint.
"No, there are very few ways we can be killed." Christian added, somber. I turned to look at him, worried. He took my hand in his and squeezed lightly. I leaned into him and relaxed.
"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 â"
"He swam to France?"
"People swim the Channel all the time, Bella," he reminded her patiently.
"That's true, I guess. It just sounded funny in that context. Go on."
"Swimming is easy for us â"
"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 â"
"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. But I persisted.
"You don't have to breathe?" I demanded.
"No, it's not necessary. Just a habit." Christian shrugged.
"How long can you go... without breathing?"
"Indefinitely, I suppose; I don't know. It gets a bit uncomfortable â being without a sense of smell."
"A bit uncomfortable," I echoed.
I wasn't paying attention to my own expression, but something in it made him grow somber again. His hand dropped to his side and he stood very still, his eyes intent on my face. The silence lengthened. His features were immobile as stone.
"What is it?" I whispered, touching his frozen face.
He softened under my hand and 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 my face.
Waiting.
"I'm not running anywhere," I promised.
"We'll see," he said, smiling again.
I frowned at him. "So, go on â Carlisle was swimming to France."
Edward paused, getting back into his story. Reflexively, his eyes flickered to another picture â 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. I 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 â 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. I examined the grouping carefully and realized, with a startled laugh, that I 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."
I felt Christian tense beside me. He seemed to literally turn to stone. He was more stiff than I'd ever seen. His eyes were furious, yet he seemed slightly scared. As he noticed my obvious look of concern, he stated through tight lips, "The Volturi."
My eyes widened in shock and I reached my hand out and touched his arm. When I was sure he wouldn't pull away, I drew him into a hug. I wasn't sure how comforting I could be, because Christian was over a foot taller than me, but I did my best. It took a second, but his stony arms wrapped around me. I felt my breath leave me as he squeezed, but I didn't panic or fight or try to move. I knew he needed this now. After a few seconds, he relaxed and my sister continued.
"What happened to them?" Bella 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 â 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. I wondered which images filled his mind now, Carlisle's memories or his own. We waited quietly.
When he turned back to Bella, a gentle angel's smile lit his expression. I saw them share a small moment together; one in which Christian and I, the Volturi, none of us existed. And then they came back.
"And so we've come full circle," he concluded.
"Have you always stayed with Carlisle, then?" I heard my sister wonder.
By now, the story was over and Christian took my hand and led me out of the study, leaving the other two behind to finish their private conversation. I figured he wanted to get away from the haunting paintings so I said nothing as we climbed to the third floor into what I guessed was Christian's room.
It had a large collection of music, but even that didn't compare to the magnificent stacks of books piled along the west wall of his bedroom. He didn't have as many as Carlisle, but I think it came pretty close. I felt my mouth open in awe. As I spun around, taking in the entire room, I saw a small daybed to the east that was obviously used as a couch, draped with a heavy, white knitted blanket. The side of his room opposite from the entrance was completely glass, with the outline of a small door in the center at the bottom. His walls were painted gray with a black accent wall where the books were piled. His room was beautiful, yet simple. I couldn't help the smile that crossed my face.
"My room," Christian stated the obvious.
"It's beautiful." I turned, and he was looking at me 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," I said, smiling back. I'd worried that he might regret telling me everything about him. It was good to know that wasn't the case.
But then, as his eyes dissected my expression, his smile faded and his forehead creased.
"You're still waiting for the running and screaming, aren't you?" I guessed.
A faint smile touched his lips, and he nodded. I felt a little bad, thinking he must remember the conversation we had the second time we were alone, walking me home. When he believed I only tolerated him, because I wanted to keep my sister safe.
"I hate to burst your bubble, but you're really not as scary as you think you are," I said. I thought to myself that I would find him way scarier if I was appetizing at all to him, to any of them. If I was a singer like my sister, I would definitely find a recent-vegetarian vampire terrifying. I didn't tell him that. "I don't find you scary at all, actually." I 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, half-crouched, tensed like a lion about to pounce.
I backed away from him, glaring.
"You wouldn't"
I didn't see him leap at me â it was much too fast. I only found myself suddenly airborne, and I was spinning. I could feel his cold touch on my back and my legs, but I was being held high above him rather than against his chest. Then we crashed onto the daybed, knocking it into the wall. All the while, his arms formed an iron cage of protection around me â I was barely jostled. My hip didn't even hurt. But I had screamed out a cackle as he leapt to me and was still gasping as I tried to right myself.
He wasn't having that. He curled me into a ball against his chest, holding me more securely than iron chains. I 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.
"That you are a very, very terrifying monster." I said, my sarcasm marred a bit by my breathless voice.
"Much better," he approved.
"Um." I struggled. "Can I get up now?"
He just laughed.
"Can we come in?" a soft voice sounded from the hall.
I struggled to free myself, but Christian merely readjusted me so that I was somewhat more conventionally seated on his lap. I could see it was Alice, then, and Jasper behind her in the doorway. Edward and Bella followed behind them both.
"Go ahead." Christian was still chuckling quietly.
Alice seemed to find nothing unusual in our embrace; she walked â almost danced, her movements were so graceful â 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 as Edward and Bella slid past him to stand at the wall. He stared at Christian's face and I wondered if he was tasting the atmosphere with his unusual sensitivity.
"It sounded like you were having Alex for lunch, and we came to see if you would share," Alice announced.
"It's Alexandra, Alice." Christian was grinning. "And sorry, I don't believe I have enough to spare." His arms holding me recklessly close.
"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?"
The words were all common enough, but the context confused me. My sister looked the same. I gathered that Alice was a bit more reliable than the weatherman, though.
Christian's eyes lit up, but he hesitated, glancing to me, then to Edward.
"Of course you should bring the girls," Alice chirped, glancing around. I thought I saw Jasper throw a quick glance at her.
"Do you want to go?" Christian asked me, excited, his expression vivid.
I looked again at my sister and she nodded slightly. It was clear that they had gone to Edward and her, first, relaying the plan and they'd already decided to attend. "Sure." I couldn't disappoint such a face. "Um, where are we going?"
"We have to wait for thunder to play ball â you'll see why," he promised.
"Will I need an umbrella?" Bella asked; she didn't like the rain much.
They all four 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."
I let out an obvious sigh, which prompted a look from the others, but I couldn't help it. I loved playing in the rain.
"Good, then." The enthusiasm in Jasper's voice was catching, naturally. I found myself eager, rather than scared stiff.
"Let's go see if Carlisle 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?" Bella demanded.
"You two will be watching," Edward clarified. "We will be playing baseball."
I rolled my eyes. "Vampires like baseball?"
"It's the American pastime," he said with mock solemnity.