My fingers danced across the ivory piano keys, and I listened absently to the thoughts of Alice and Emmett, who were playing a game of checkers at the table in the “dining” room. Alice, of course, was using her extraordinary talent to peer ahead of the game, while Emmett scowled and claimed her a cheater under his breath every time she jumped one of his pieces. He hated to lose.
Edward, Esme thought from upstairs. You’re an excellent pianist. Would you mind…?My complex version of Chopsticks gradually decreased to a slow, melancholy tune; I’d composed the song many decades ago for Esme and Carlisle. It was one of her favorites.
I heard her sigh dreamily, but nobody else noticed. Emmett had finally managed to claim one of Alice’s pieces, though I suspected this was more because of Alice’s sympathetic generosity than Emmett’s sense of cleverness. He ground the checker piece to dust in his fingertips, and Alice continued to browse through the future of the game. Out of boredom, I watched the visions with her. And then we both saw something that was quite contrary to a game of checkers.
It was a vision of Carlisle at the hospital. A small, brown-haired girl laid in a bed beside him, and he bowed over with worry puckering the marble skin of his forehead. The girl was very still, but her expression was twisted in unmistakable pain. Slowly, Carlisle reached out for her hand, which was folded stiffly on her lap. He lifted her wrist to his lips, and then, in one quick movement, his teeth broke through her skin. The girl trembled, shaking uncontrollably, and her eyes flew open. Alice’s vision ended abruptly then, but it took a while for my gaze to drift back into focus. The startling hazel color of the girl’s irises was hypnotic.
“Edward!” Alice cried, breaking me from my reverie. She must have known I’d been listening, even while my back faced them and I stood hunched over my piano. I had long since stopped playing, however. I could hear Esme’s worries from upstairs.
Edward? she echoed. Edward, what’s wrong? Why have you stopped playing?Alice was already at my side, a surprisingly cheerful smile on her lips. “Carlisle’s saving another life!” she crowed. “I’m going to have a younger sister!”
“What?” Emmett demanded. He had appeared suddenly on the bench beside me, and was shortly followed by Esme.
“Edward saw my vision, too,” Alice said, drifting lithely across the room. “Carlisle is saving a young girl in the hospital!”
“Oh my goodness,” Esme gasped. “Another to join our family!”
“We don’t know that for certain,” I pointed out, imagining the brown-haired girl screaming with pain in the hospital bed. “She may not choose our path.” I pictured her again, this time with red irises to replace the hazel ones, and a bloody figure at her feet.
“How old is this girl?” Emmett asked, his thought still drifting to the uncompleted game of checkers.
“Thirteen,” Alice answered somewhat impatiently. “Can’t we go, Esme? I want to be with her…” Esme placed a hand on Alice’s tiny shoulder. “We have to wait,” she answered firmly, but I could see the glint of excitement in her eyes as well.
“Thirteen?” Emmett groaned, shaking his head. “Oh, man. A teenager. Rose is gonna be pissed.”
Alice pressed her lips together, concentrating. The vision had not changed much; the girl was still unconscious, but trembling slightly. One hand - with a thin cut on the wrist - was shaking. Carlisle stood above her, expressionless.
“What’s wrong, Alice?” Esme asked, frowning. “Is she…all right?”
“Yes.” Alice glanced at me, as if waiting for my interpretation of the vision. “But Carlisle…he seems….”
“Carlisle is very compassionate,” I spoke dryly. “He holds himself responsible for her discomfort.”
Esme looked worried. “Should we - ?”
“No,” I answered. “Let him take care of her.”
We stood in silence, our thoughts taking incredibly different directions. Esme fretted for Carlisle, but thought fondly of the arrival of a new daughter; Alice imagined the girl dressed in a variety of ridiculous designer clothes; Emmett considered Rosalie’s possible reactions once she came back from her hunting trip and found a new sister in our home.
“Carlisle’s on his way,” Alice said suddenly, and we all turned to gaze expectantly toward the front door. And sure enough, less than ten seconds after the sound of squealing car tires, Carlisle appeared in the doorway. Wordlessly, Esme rushed forward to embrace him.
“A new daughter!” she cried joyfully. “How is she doing?”
Carlisle patted his wife on the back, but his eyes were thoughtful and out of focus. “She’s okay,” he answered, glancing in my direction. He was opening his mind to me, inviting me to see the girl. I eagerly accepted.
She was unusually still, although her heart continued to beat and her chest continued to rise with the steady flow of breath. However, several things were not right. The girl looked weak, and she showed no signs of movement.
“Edward,” Carlisle said. “I might need your help. I have other patients to attend to…” He used a casual tone, but I could sense the true urgency in the situation.
“Of course,” I agreed, instantly breaking out of the house and heading toward the hospital. In one seemingly white blur, I’d flown through the rainy town and into the very room where the girl sat. I approached more slowly, transfixed on the still figure that laid on the mattress.
“This is Jane,” Carlisle said, joining me a few seconds later. “She was hit by a car a few streets away from her house. Nobody was there to help her.” He sighed.
“She’s lucky you were there,” I said softly.
Carlisle shook his head. “I should have let her die, Edward.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, exasperated. “Why isn’t she…moving?” I recalled the gruesome memory of Rosalie’s transformation - her thrashing and blood-curdling screams - and eyed Janine’s motionless form with suspicion.
Carlisle glared at his desk while he spoke. “Her body is reacting to the venom. Her immune system is trying to fight it off.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Is that possible?”
He closed his eyes. “I didn’t think so.”
“Will her heart…?” I trailed off, waiting for answers.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
I glanced up, hoping to discuss more, but Carlisle had fled three floors down to treat another patient with a broken leg. I sighed, moving to stand closer to the girl.
She shuddered, as if she could sense my presence. She looked too human, and yet she continued to tremble in her deathbed. I wished that I could relieve her of the pain, and found myself imagining her in our home. It was a strange idea; she looked too young to be a part of our monstrous existence. I brushed my hand lightly across her wrist, where Carlisle’s bite mark had been hidden with a bandage, and a metal bracelet with the name Jane interlinked in cursive letters.
Her eyes blinked open.
For a while, we stared at each other with wild curiosity in our gaze, and I was the first to break the silence. “Hello,” I murmured soothingly.
“Hello,” she gasped. Her hazel eyes did not contain the merest hint of red. I felt sympathetic; she would have much more pain to endure.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Edward Cullen.” I tried to interpret her thoughts, but was surprised to find that there was no mind to read. Just emptiness.
“And you must be Jane.” I frowned - why couldn’t I understand her simple-headed, vain teenage thoughts?
She didn’t respond, but I noticed her trace her bandaged arm with confusion. “I should have died,” she realized.
“Yes,” I agreed. “You should have.”
“But I didn’t.” She waited for an explanation, but I gave her none. Her blank focus was disorientating - I was not used to this.
"Where is Alec?" she murmured, frowning. "He wasn't there..."
“Try to fall asleep,” I urged her. “You need rest.” This was true - her eyelids were already flickering with exhaustion.
“Thank you,” she sighed. “Thank you so much.”
Her eyes closed.
I brushed my fingertips lightly across Edward's jaw, watching the immediate adoration flicker in his eyes. He loves me, I realized with a jolt in my stomach. This is real. Not a romance novel or a schoolyard love story.
"Edward," I said. My voice quavered.
"Jane," he repeated in a murmur. I lifted my hand away, watching the change in his expression. The adoration was still there, indefinetely, but the compassion was gone.
"What is it like...for you?" I tried to keep my tone light. "What do you feel?"
"I feel...strong," he said. "Whole."
"Whole?" I asked in surprise.
"Because of you. When you touch me that way - " he lifted my hand in his and stroked it against his cold cheek - "You're the only part of me that still exists. Nothing else matters anymore."
I concentrated on Bella while I drove; the road seemed narrower in comparison to her wide brown eyes and smooth complexion. The smell of her skin was intoxicating, so much different than the way I felt about Jane. Jane was...hypnotic. And my love for her was nothing more than that.
I was eager to see Jane, and put my new perspective into place. As soon as I swerved into the driveway, I tore out of the Volvo and left it, door open and engine rumbling, on the damp concrete. I tracked her upstairs in the hallway, frozen into place by the sound of my arrival. I flew through the door, but she was already there, balanced at the top of the banister. Her eyes were dead.
"Destroy me." She didn't meet my gaze; she concentrated on the cream-colored walls around me instead.
"I don't want to live anymore. I have no reason to."
"No." I'd expected my refusal to come as a shock, but she betrayed no flicker of surprise.
"I have no reason to live," she repeated. "I don't want this, anymore. Not without..." She trailed off painfully. Not without you.
"I'm not going to kill you, Jane." I was killing her, already. The old Jane was gone. The new Jane had a hardened heart and a bitter mind.
"Why?" she demanded. "Because I don't deserve to die? I have more to suffer?" She appeared at my side, her eyes swimming with emotion. "What else could you possibly take from me, Edward?"
I closed my eyes. It was too hard to concentrate with her silent plea glaring me in the face. "I don't want you to suffer," I said coolly. "I know what you've been through, Jane, and I'd like to help you. Your power is very unique; perhaps you could be of service to another coven."
"No," she said. "I want to die. Please. Do this for me." Shouldn't it be a sin to sound so desperate for death?
"This isn't a happy ending, Jane." I opened my eyes, surprised to see her so close.
"It's too late for happy endings," she whispered numbly. "I'm not a selfish creature. Any ending would be preferable."
"I can't do that. You know I can't."
I waited with high anticipation as she reached out for me, her gaze unreadable. I was tempted to flinch away, but before I could make my decision - before she'd even made the contact - a new sensation gripped my chest. Pain.
It was crippling. Every miserable experience I'd ever lived through pierced through my mind like daggers. The pain of leaving my mother behind, the pain of becoming a new-born, the pain of feeling like the blood-thirty creature that I was. It tore at my heart with a brute strength and destroyed every sense of moral.
"Stop!" I gasped. When I opened my eyes, I realized that I was physically crumpled on the ground, and Jane's eyes were widened with fear.
"Edward," she choked. "You.."
"Get back," I commanded. "Get away from here, Jane."
Her poise was shattered. "I'm sorry, Edward," she choked. And I could see that - she hadn't meant to cause me pain. She'd tried to share her emotions with me, and instead she had shared every disappointment and hurt that she'd had to suffer through life. This girl deserved death more than anything, but I could not allow it.
She fled, then. I watched the white blur vanish from the room and streak out the doorway, the ghost of her childlike figure haunting me from where she'd stood.
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