The Cygnet and the Strigoi Ch. 5-Not a Fairytale
Thanks to Alyssa and Bailey of Project Team Beta for keeping me in line.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
Chapter 5: Not a Fairytale
I morphed into Swan and followed Owl out the window, into the dark forest. The temperature had started to drop, and the rain was turning into icicles hanging on the branches. Thousands of our reflections shimmered past as we glided through the trees. Well, I glided; Owl flapped.
I followed him as we flew towards the coast, and my brain was peacefully quiet. In many ways, it was easier to be in Swan’s form than in Bella’s. Sure, Swan was hungrier, and she felt the tug pulling her to Edward even more urgently, but everything with Swan was instinctual, basic, and not muddled with overreactions and emotions.
Owl slowed and circled until he silently perched in a tree, several yards above the ground. I flew a little farther, so I could land on the ground without disturbing his hunting. I caught several small frogs, before an unsuspecting vole crossed my path. He was swallowed with little struggle, and soon, Owl landed beside me.
Our heads turned simultaneously when we heard crashing behind us: several large animals were headed towards us. I sniffed the air, but the scent confused me; it reminded me of the wolves I had encountered in Canada, but there was an undertone that almost smelled human. We watched as the first of the beasts stepped through the trees into our small clearing.
It took up so much space that I wanted to step back, but at the same time, I didn’t want to draw its attention. It was staring at Owl for the moment, I figured because he was smaller and perhaps seemed an easier catch. With my neck stretched, I was about two feet taller than Owl, but I was still at least two feet smaller than the monster behind us.
Owl shifted his body so that he was fully facing it, and he tilted his moon-shaped face until it was perpendicular to his frame; Owl was liberal with his freaky head tricks. I didn’t turn; I assumed the quickest route of escape was in the opposite direction of the shaggy creature. They stared at each other, and if it weren’t for their silence, I would have thought they were carrying on a conversation. Perhaps they were sizing each other up, deciding who would attack whom first.
Owl turned his head towards me and tilted his face the other direction as if asking a question. I looked at the beast, then back to Owl. If he thought I would join him in assaulting the monster, he had another think coming. That thing was not Dinner, it was Run Like Hell!
Owl shifted on his talons, and the beast made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. My instinct for preservation kicked in, and I clumsily launched myself into the air. I didn’t know what Owl was planning, but I wasn’t going to stick around to watch him be eaten, and I certainly wasn’t going to be next.
My heart raced as I flew above the treetops, letting my body fly where it most wanted to go. The normally constant fog was lifting, and the stars twinkled against the night sky as I soared through the air. I followed the 101 to the turn-off for the house at the edge of the forest. I circled the structure, hunting for Edward by trying to find the window closest to the source of the pulling.
As I lowered myself, I heard a piano playing a delicate and haunting tune. I listened more carefully and realized that the music was live and was coming from the same room Edward was in. I drifted to the ground and waddled to the window nearest the pull. I tried to look in, but the security lights around the house kept me from seeing inside the dark room; only Swan looked out at me, my reflected head bobbing softly to the slow rhythm of the song.
The piece was familiar, I thought perhaps by Tchaikovsky, but for some reason I kept picturing Bela Lugosi’s Dracula as I listened. There were many impromptu flourishes being added by the pianist, enhancing the otherwise simple song, transforming it into a complex mating call. I opened my mouth to respond, wanting to sing a lovely, harmonious accompaniment to show my appreciation.
A blaring, aggravating ‘honk’ shattered the beauty of the night song, and after my momentary shock, I realized it came from me. Oh beak, I think I hate you.
The music came to an abrupt halt, and I listened for sounds from inside the house but heard none. The front door unexpectedly swung open, and startled, I ran farther into the yard and built speed to be able to fly almost straight up into the sky. Once in the air, I glanced below me to watch a rust-colored head walk back into the house.
I made my way home and swooped through the kitchen window, landing on the faux-parquet floor with barely a clatter. I changed back into Bella and pulled on my clothes, wanting to kick myself for sitting outside of Edward’s window like some crazed stalker swan.
Once I had pulled my blouse on (and found the two buttons I bit off earlier to get the shirt to fall from my swan body), I started to make my way upstairs. Then, I remembered: I had left Owl alone facing the monster in the woods; I had abandoned my father to be eaten by that beast!
A sob tore from my throat as I sank to the step I had stopped on, grasping the railing like a lifeline. Hot tears spilt down my cheeks as I desperately tried to imagine some way, any way that he could have made it out alive. Was there anyone I could call? What would I say? ‘Hi, my dad, the town sheriff, might have been attacked by an animal a few miles out of town, and by the way, he might be an owl when you stumble across his mangled corpse.’
I was crying outright, keening wails shaking my whole body, ripping me apart.
“Bells? What on earth is wrong with you? Have you been hurt?”
The masculine voice calling to me from upstairs caused my next sob to turn into a surprised shriek. I slowly turned my head to look up and saw my dad’s head sticking out from the bathroom. I’d never been so happy to see his stupid mustache in my life.
I pulled myself up and started to run up the stairs at lightning speed to hug my dad, but I stopped myself when I heard the shower. I stayed a few feet from the door as he continued to watch me with wide, worried eyes, one eyebrow raised to indicate his confusion. “What’s going on?” he whispered, shaken.
I started to laugh, not caring that I must have looked hysterical. He still looked concerned, so I reigned myself in, though my shoulders still shook, and I smiled sheepishly up at him. “I’m fine, just…” I lifted my left hand to swirl it in the air by my ear, our sign language we had used for years to indicate one of Renee’s crazy ideas.
He smiled back at me, but his eyes still showed his apprehension. “Do you want to talk about it after I get out of the shower?”
I wanted to talk about it; I wanted to talk about so many things, but it was all too much to discuss tonight. I was exhausted, and even if we started talking now, I knew I would fall asleep in a matter of minutes.
I shook my head, and he opened his mouth to protest, but I beat him to the punch. “We really need to talk, but can we do it tomorrow?” I pleaded.
He snapped his mouth closed and then sighed once he realized how tired I truly was. “Okay, but we will talk tomorrow, Isabella. No more skirting the issue, understand?”
“Yes, dad.”
He scrutinized my face and then sighed again, giving me an eye roll. “I love you, kiddo. Go get some sleep.”
I nodded and reciprocated, “Love you too.”
He shut the door, and I drug myself to my bedroom. I flopped onto my bed without taking off my clothes, and as I had predicted, I was asleep within moments.
I woke in the morning when light hit my eyes; I peeled one eye open to find the culprit, only to be greeted by the sun, shining brighter than I thought possible in Forks. I made my way to the window to find snow and ice covering every surface, causing the light to reflect. Clouds quickly covered the sun again, and I bit my lip, wondering if I could possibly be trusted driving on the snow. Personally, it sounded like a recipe for disaster.
I groaned when I finally noticed the time on my alarm clock. I would have less than thirty minutes to shower, dress and get out the door, and still be able to drive slowly and carefully to school; I prayed Dad had saved me a cup of joe.
I managed to get ready in time and thanked the java gods for my father’s foresight as I ran out to my truck. Luckily, new Bella was a balanced Bella, and I managed to slide to the driver’s side door without cracking my coccyx. Before I could open the door, however, I noticed a shimmer on my back tire. Worried that I might have picked up a nail, I focused on the tread and saw small chains criss-crossed on the tire. I smiled, glad to have my dad taking care of me, even if he still had a lot of explaining to do.
I drove to school slowly and without incident, though I held my breath most of the way in fear. I clambered down from the cab with my backpack, and my gaze honed in on the golden eyes watching me from across the lot. I couldn’t stop the shy smile that spread across my face in answer to Edward’s knowing grin.
I started to walk to him, glad that my entourage had not yet caught up to me for once. I had just taken a couple of steps when the tiny terror standing next to him opened her mouth. “No!” she breathed, so softly I almost didn’t hear her.
At first, I thought she was talking to me, telling me to stay away from her brother yet again; ire gurgled up like bile in the back of my throat. I glared at her, wondering if I should try to make nice with her, just ignore her, or tell her off. It was then that I grasped that she wasn’t looking at me at all but was instead watching the entrance of the parking lot.
Tyler Crowley was about to turn into the lot, driving faster in his blue van than was reasonable on the ice. As he turned the corner, his brakes locked, causing him to skid. I quickly determined his trajectory and knew he would hit me in a matter of seconds. I knew I could probably run around the truck, or even jump over it for that matter, but there would be witnesses who would find my super speed suspicious to say the least. On the other hand, if I ‘slipped’ in surprise and wound up underneath my truck, people might be amazed but most likely would just joke about my clumsiness saving me.
I calculated the distance between the ground and the bottom of my truck, and there was plenty of room for me from what I could see. I held my breath and hoped there weren’t any parts hanging lower than my running boards that I wasn’t aware of, as I threw my backpack under the truck. The van was only a yard away as I bent to swing myself behind the backpack, and I hoped to make it to the other side of the truck before the van connected.
Only my head remained out of the truck’s shelter, when two feet, clad in expensive leather shoes, appeared beside me. My eyes travelled up, and further up, until they reached the back of a bronze head. Without thought, my hands shot out and grabbed his legs, and thanks to the ice, he slipped and fell face forward. I winced, terrified I had damaged the most perfect face in the world with my thoughtlessness, but he had caught himself on his hands, looking like he was in the middle of a push up.
I jerked him backwards, pulling his body next to me, my hands scaling him as he slid, but they couldn’t reach his head in time. He tried to turn to look behind him in confusion, just as his head reached the running board, and he hit it with a loud crack; I softly hissed when I saw that the metal was bent, worried that he might have a concussion. I moved my hand close to his head then, trying not to touch it in case I hurt him worse but trying to keep him from butting the truck again.
I pulled us both further under the truck, but we were only halfway across when the van hit. Thankfully, the truck was a solid hunk of metal and barely moved above us. I felt a scratch on my left arm where it pressed against the bottom of the truck, trying to protect Edward. I stayed still, my hands still grasping Edward’s leanly muscled arms as I waited to make sure that the van and truck had both settled.
I tried to lift my head, but something held it down. There was pressure along my back, and I worried for a moment that something might have come loose from the truck and fallen on me. I didn’t hurt and knew I could get out from under it, but I didn’t have a clue how I would fix my truck. Whatever was on my head started to move, caressing my hair.
I shifted my head to look at Edward, but we were too close and my nose ended up by his hair. His cinnamon pastry scent was strong in the cramped space, and I fought the urges I had to bite him or roll around in his luxurious perfume. I did see that at some point, he had snaked his right arm up my back. “Bella? Are you hurt?” his voice was low with worry.
“I’m perfectly fine, but you hit your head pretty hard. We need to get out of here; do you think you can move?”
“Of course.” The worry was still there but was now tinged with irritation.
We tried to scoot back out from under the truck, but we were too tangled together to move. He managed to get his arm free from me, but I was afraid to move my hand from above his head, not wanting him to do more damage to himself. He started to move and I tried to keep him covered.
“Bella, really, this will go much faster if you stop hovering,” he sighed, exasperated.
“Sorry, you’re right.” I moved my arms, pulling into myself.
He managed to quickly wiggle out, and I followed behind. He was standing perfectly still as I brushed dirt off my pants. I snorted when I saw that the left arm of my jacket was ripped apart from my elbow down. I’d only had it a week, and it was a shame that it was ruined, even if I just wore it for show since I was hot all of the time.
I looked up at Edward, finally, looking for any signs of harm. I tried to circle him to look at the back of his head, but he turned on his heel to follow me. “Stop it! Let me look at the back of your head.”
He paused, and I looked but saw nothing. Just to be sure, I leaned closer and quietly sniffed for blood. I thought I was being subtle, but apparently I wasn’t quiet enough because he spun around to look at me. I stepped back, but not before he caught me.
“I don’t see anything,” I mumbled, and looked up at his eyes. They were dark, and I worried that he might still have a concussion even though he wasn’t bleeding. “Maybe you should sit down,” I suggested.
He looked at me incredulously and laughed. “You sit down!”
I didn’t find anything funny about the situation, and I really became concerned. From behind me, a girl hesitantly cleared her throat.
I spun around to see Alice, her arms crossed and her head tilted in wonder. Jasper stood close behind her and seemed genuinely concerned when he asked “Bella, are you okay?”
Why was everyone asking me that lately? Oh yeah, because I probably shouldn’t be. “I’m fine, but your brother hit his head hard enough to dent my truck. I told him he should sit down, but he won’t listen to me.”
Alice smiled in amusement, “Yeah, he’s hard-headed like that.”
I wanted to convince her that he was really hurt, but Jasper interrupted me, “Bella, Edward isn’t hurt, stop worrying.”
My concern lessened as he spoke, but for some reason it seemed unnatural. Alice grabbed my attention.
“You better get out there.” She pointed behind her to the parking lot where a crowd was gathered looking at my truck and Tyler’s van. I heard people yelling and girls crying.
“Oh my god, is Tyler okay?”
“Oh, he should be fine. Everyone’s afraid you’ve been squished, though.”
I moved around the couple and pushed my way through the crowd, hearing gasps as I passed. I eventually made it to the other side of the van, noticing that the two vehicles were crammed together, and people were on the ground, looking under where they connected. Coach Clapp was one of them, and he called my name from under the van before shouting “Damnit, someone get me a flashlight!”
“Coach! I’m here! I’m fine!”
Most of the crowd quieted as they turned to look at me standing amongst them. The people on the ground looked up at me and Coach Clapp started to stand. “How’d you get out of there?”
The lie fell from my lips like rotten fruit from a tree. “I slipped on the ground when I saw the van coming, so I just rolled under the truck.”
He nodded, like this made all the sense in the world. “I was hoping you’d managed to get down there.”
He smiled in relief. I smiled back and was going to tell him that I thought Edward was hurt, but then I saw that Edward had moved back across the lot and was standing by the Volvo again, like he had been watching from afar all along.
I narrowed my eyes at him, but he just watched me broodingly, such a change from the smile he had for me less than half an hour ago; Alice smiled cheekily, though, and gave a little wave.
I heard sirens behind me and jerked my gaze away to watch an ambulance and a police cruiser pull up. The crowd moved back a little to let the paramedics get through to Tyler, and I let myself be swept away with it. Dad got out of the cruiser, and after briefly checking on Tyler, his eyes scanned the crowd until he found me. He made his way over and put his arm around me.
“Sorry about your truck, we’ll get it fixed quickly, though.” His hand patted my shoulder, and he smiled at me reassuringly. I tried to smile back but couldn’t keep my brows from pulling together when I looked from my poor truck to Edward, who was making his way over to us with a look of determination.
I felt jittery as he neared, too wound up from the day’s events, and the crowd, and the aroma of Tyler’s blood that floated through the air as he was loaded onto the stretcher. Unwittingly, my body started to strain towards Tyler as the paramedics pushed him by us.
Charlie’s grasp on me tightened until it actually became painful, rooting me to the spot better than any anchor. I started to tremble, and saliva filled my mouth; if I started to drool over Tyler’s bloody body, they would lock me up and throw away the key.
He lowered his head to mine so only I could hear his whisper “Keep your head down so no one sees your eyes. We’re going to the cruiser.”
I turned my gaze to the toes of my sneakers and he led me away. We were still several feet from the car when he stopped; expensive leather shoes that were beginning to get on my nerves were firmly planted in our way.
“Chief Swan,” a honeyed and deceptively anxious voice spoke. “I think I saw Bella hit her head when she crawled out from under her truck. You might want to take her to the hospital to have her checked out.”
My eyes snapped up, crackling with betrayal. I wanted to accuse him of lying, to clarify that he was the one who had hit his head, but I was shocked into silence when Dad reached out the hand that wasn’t around me and grabbed Edward’s hand. My father usually avoided touching people he wasn’t close to, at least for as long as I could remember, and I felt certain from my only experiences around him that Edward was the same.
Edward seemed as surprised as I was as he watched the chief, unblinking. Dad’s jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. I wondered if he was upset at Edward’s reaction, or if something else was bothering him. He forced a smile. “Well, thanks for your concern, son. I’ll make sure to keep an eye on her, and I’ll bring her right in if anything seems amiss.”
I breathed a sigh of relief; I knew terrible things would happen if I was forced to get in the ambulance with Tyler and his yummy blood at that moment. The only blessing in the whole situation was that Edward wasn’t bleeding. He smelled too tasty as it was, and I now knew I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from jumping on him if he had been wounded. What a masochistic idiot I had been for trying to sniff for his blood earlier.
Edward removed his hand from Dad’s grip, slowly nodding his head, but his brows lowered in confusion. We proceeded to move around him, and Dad opened his passenger door for me. I settled in and pulled on my seatbelt then kept my eyes on my hands, though I could feel Edward’s watchful gaze through the window.
Dad got in and started the car, his moves hasty. He flipped the switch to turn the red and blues off, which was some consolation, but I still tried to sink as far down into the seat as possible, not that anyone wouldn’t know it was me anyways.
We were about a block away from the school when Dad slapped both of his hands down on the steering wheel, making me jump in my seat. “What were you thinking, Isabella, getting that close to a vampire? Is this some kind of game to you?”
The world slowed around me as I turned my head to him; sure I had misheard his questions. “Whaaaahuh?” My basic motor skills seemed to have slowed, too.
He briefly turned to glare at me before looking back to the road. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know. That boy’s head was so full of you I could barely pick up anything about his family. Not that I needed to read his thoughts to know what he was, he might as well have been shouting Strigoi Mort.”
I tried to speak but had to clear my suddenly dry throat to do more than squeak. “Read his thoughts? Vampire? What are you talking about?”
He shot another brief glare at me as we pulled into our driveway, but once we were parked he turned fully towards me. Something in my dazed expression must have convinced him that I was indeed quite clueless, because his face changed from anger to pained amazement.
“Bells, how much do you remember?”
“I remember we both turned into birds last night,” his countenance turned even sadder. “Right?” I questioned in panic.
He reached out and patted my shoulder, trying to calm my agitation. “That’s right, Bella, we did,” he tried to soothe me, but his face was still distressed which made me worry that he was just trying to appease me.
“C’mon,” he said gently, “let’s go in and talk.”
I followed him into the house, dropping my backpack in its place by the staircase, like I had every day for the past week. So quickly, I had settled here, made it my home in a way that I never had in Phoenix; yet from my first night in Forks everything had been topsy turvy, strange, and so confusing I’ve often thought I was losing my mind.
Dad was sitting at the dining table in the kitchen, holding the portable phone in his hands and looking at it like he was expecting answers. I went to my seat, watching him the whole time.
“Bella, you didn’t know what I was talking about when I said I could read that boy’s thoughts?” he asked in a whisper, still staring at the phone in his grip.
“No, I can’t say I did. Were you being metaphorical or something?”
He smiled sadly, “No, I can’t say I was. The problem is why it came as news to you. I thought all this time that you were blocking me from reading your mind, but I’m beginning to wonder if you’re blocking everyone, including yourself.”
I sighed, frustrated and scared. “Dad, please, stop talking in riddles. Tell me what the hell is going on!”
“Language, Isabella,” he said automatically, then, as if realizing the absurdity of his reprimand in the midst of our tense conversation, he laughed.
“I never thought I would have to explain all of this to you. You were supposed to be born with the knowledge, like I was, like we all were. If you can’t hear my thoughts, I don’t know if I can make it all clear to you, so let’s start there.”
He punched buttons on the phone, dialing more than eleven numbers, leading me to believe he was making an international call. Dad turned up the volume on the handset so we could both hear the rings clearly. After several moments a young man answered, his voice almost sounding British, except there was a unique lilt to his voice, as if English wasn’t his native language. “Charles, is that you?”
“Yes, Thane, we’re both here.”
“Issy? Are you there too?”
Dad looked at me expectantly. I looked at the phone as I answered, “I’m sorry, this is Bella.”
“Of course,” the man answered, “Bella.”
Dad spoke hesitantly, “I think you were right about her blocking me, but she seems to also be blocking her own memories. I don’t even know if she can hear me.”
“I hear you,” I spoke up, disliking that he was discussing me with a stranger and feeling like I was broken because I couldn’t read minds, of all things.
“No, Bells, I mean…” he touched his forehead with his fingertips.
“Oh, then no, I can’t hear you.”
The man interrupted, “I doubt she is completely blocking you, it should go against her instincts. However, she might not be aware what she is hearing. Charles, I want you to concentrate on a short phrase, and Bella, I want you to close your eyes and focus on hearing, or even feeling what your father is thinking.”
I closed my eyes and tried to do as I was told, but I heard nothing and felt only frustration, which could easily be my own. I said so, but Dad looked thoughtful.
“I was frustrated too, so don’t dismiss it completely. My feelings might have influenced yours, at least.”
“Perhaps…” the man muttered, and then told my father to place his hand on my bare arm.
“Bella, close your eyes again, and Charles, please repeat your phrase.”
I concentrated, and at first I still just felt the same frustration, but I could tell that it was definitely too strong, and somehow different, than my own. I started to feel excited and was about to share my findings when I heard it: a very quiet voice, like a whisper through a door “I love you, Bells.”
My eyes flew open, and my face hurt with my grin. “I love you, too, Dad!”
He grinned back at me, but the man interrupted again. “Excellent, now, close your eyes again, and Charles, try to project a memory for Bella. I know it is harder for you, but she might be able to see it more clearly than she can hear your voice.”
My eyes closed, and almost instantly an image popped in my head, but I couldn’t immediately tell what it was. As I focused, colors became sharper, and lines more crisp. There was a girl, no more than seven years old. She had bouncing brown hair under a backwards Mariners cap and wide brown eyes in her heart shaped face. Her clothes were covered in mud, and she held a plastic light saber, pointing skyward as she ran towards us in the vision.
“Don’t worry, Daddy!” she shrieked. “I’ll thave you from the dragon!”
We chuckled, my father’s masculine voice sounding lower in my mind than normal. “But I thought I was supposed to save the damsel in distress.”
“What’th a damthel?” She stood in front of us, her mouth twisted in puzzlement.
We laughed again. “She’s the beautiful lady that the knight saves from the dragon.”
Understanding dawned on her face and she smiled a gap-toothed grin. “Then I’m no damthel, I’m a knight! You be the damthel, Daddy!”
“Of course, Baby,” we responded, controlling our laughter.
She rolled her eyes, lifting the light saber with both hands. “No, Daddy, it’th Thir Bella,” and she tore off across the lawn, galloping like knight and steed in one.
The vision faded as she circled the tree in the front yard, her weapon held high.
I blinked my eyes open to look at my dad, sitting across from me, worried. “Bells?”
“That’s Sir Bella, Dad.”
He smiled triumphantly, and I laughed. “I take that as it worked?” the man spoke from the phone.
“Yes,” we both said, and laughed again.
“Alright, then, I suppose you’re set. Be careful, Charles. If she is indeed blocking her memories, it’s probably to protect herself. Some of our sisters have blanked out particular moments of their pasts but never their entire memories… although, those who wound up carrying more than one set of memories did have more problems when trying to separate the two.”
Dad nodded at the phone as if the man could see him; I couldn’t even follow the conversation.
The man went on without a verbal response, “If you need any more help or need me to fill in any gaps, please feel free to call me. That goes for you, too, Bella.” His last statement was imbued with heartfelt sincerity, and I raised a brow at the phone. I looked to Dad, and his smile tightened.
“Will do, Thane, thanks.”
Dad turned off the headset and laid it on the table.
“Who exactly was that guy? Customer service for malfunctioning supernatural abilities?”
He snorted, “Not quite. Thane is something of an advisor for our kind.”
“Ah, our kind… which is?”
He sighed. “I guess we’ll start with the beginning, but if you have any questions, be sure to ask. I’ve never done this before, but it’s all in your mind, somewhere, so maybe you’ll remember some on your own.”
I took several deep breaths, excited and frightened, wondering what I was about to see. He placed his hand on my arm again. “Ready?”
I nodded, and then closed my eyes, welcoming my father’s memories. My mind was dark, and I could barely hear the sound of light waves hitting a boat, the same sound I remembered from a couple of years ago when Dad wanted to go fishing while we were in California.
I heard my father speaking clearly out loud. “How much do you know about the mythologies of the ancient Greeks and Romans?”
“You mean like Zeus or Hades?”
“Yes, do you know much about them?”
“No, just the basic stuff, I guess. There were gods for pretty much everything: the sea, the sky, love.”
“Yes, exactly, but what’s important to remember is that they weren’t just ‘Gods of’ something, they actually personified that thing. Aphrodite wasn’t just in charge of love, she was love. Are you following?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Do you remember reading or hearing about other beings that personified things, but weren’t necessarily gods? Nymphs, dryads…”
“Yes, but weren’t they usually the children of gods, or also considered gods themselves?”
“Yes, sometimes they were. Once, our kind was considered to be the children of Nyx, the goddess of the night. For the most part, we acted as psychopomps, leading dead souls to the underworld.”
In my mind, the vision came into focus. We stood at the helm of a long boat, a pole in our hands to push us forward. We looked behind us to see that the boat was filled with floating, see-through lights: souls, my mind informed me, before the vision darkened again.
My father continued, “Sometimes our duties were literal, actually requiring us to travel to the underworld with the dead. However, some of us were primarily responsible for taking the last bit of energy from a dying person, allowing his or her soul to release from his or her body.”
The image changed, and we were standing over a bed in the dark. The body in the bed wheezed painfully, and we reached out a hand, gently touching the wrinkled and clammy skin of the woman dying before us. She smiled gratefully, and we breathed, pulling her energy, her aura, away from her body, letting it fill us like the sweetest honeyed wine. She had been so weak that it was over soon, and the last of her energy left her body with a pop, like a released cork. Her eyes dimmed, and her soul floated up for our eyes only, ready to be led.
“Then there were others who were charged with causing death, wreaking vengeance and bringing people to justice.”
The vision this time was brighter and clearer; if I had been asleep I would have mistakenly believed it was happening before my eyes. My body seemed more like my own, and not like a masculine form. I stood on a hilltop, watching a battle unfold before my eyes. I felt a soft hand wrap around mine, and I looked over to see the woman from my vision at the school the day before. She smiled at me, deliriously happy, and then looked back out over the massacre on the field.
“As we usually could not sustain ourselves on the energy we took from the dying, we would eat the flesh of the dead to supplement our diets.” He said it so casually, so matter of fact.
I snapped my eyes open to look at him. “Please don’t show me that one.”
He nodded. “Usually, we tried to spare any mortals from seeing us eat flesh in our human forms, so we would transform ourselves into other creatures when we fed. The sons of Nyx usually preferred bats or owls, and were called Strix when in those forms, while the daughters preferred swans, almost exclusively.”
“Preferred? You make it sound like they could have been anything, though.”
“Correct, we could have been anything, or anybody, but time has limited our powers of transformation for most of us. Now close your eyes again, please.”
I did so, and he continued. “Times change, and beliefs change, and most power is derived from how much faith people have in something or someone. We began to travel, finding others to believe in us. For instance, some of our sisters, the Keres, became Vila to the Slavic people, and Valkyries in the Nordic lands.
This time the vision showed us watching as a swan transformed mid-air into a lovely woman, with long, softly curling blonde hair. As she landed she was almost completely transformed, only her arms were still wings, and she was practically angelic. I was reminded of Edward’s beautiful Tanya, and a sharp pang of jealousy tightened my chest.
Dad broke into my thoughts. “Roughly four thousand years ago, one of our kind bit a mortal without taking his soul. Many of us believed that it was our sister, Lyssa, who bit the man since she could spread madness to animals with a bite, but she never would say anything about it. She had the gift of prophecy, and she would often do things that didn’t make sense to the rest of us, trying to influence what she had already seen.”
I felt a niggling frustration at the back of my mind hearing the name, a memory that wouldn’t unlock, bothering me like an itch I couldn’t scratch. The memory I saw was now of the woman from my own visions, dancing in a circle around a fire at night, her arms lovingly wrapped around a slightly shorter woman with long, black hair that whipped across her face, hiding it from me as they spun. They laughed, and sparks from the flames danced on the air behind them, trying to join in their routine. Was Lyssa the woman who had appeared to me, and why would I remember her in particular?
“What happened to Lyssa?” I blurted, wondering why it mattered so much to me.
“She was lost to us,” he replied sadly, before continuing. “Regardless of whose fault it was, the man became more like us than like the mortal he once was. He was stronger, his skin impenetrable, but his eyes glowed red, and his skin glowed even more than ours in the sunlight. His heart stopped beating all together, and he preferred to drink the blood of humans rather than eating flesh.”
We watched from a rooftop as a tall, slender, blonde man, wearing a uniform that reminded me of a gladiator’s costume, followed two drunken men down a narrow street at night, several blocks away from us. The drunken men stumbled against each other, and in a blur of speed, the man was upon them. He bent his head to one man’s neck, and then the other. The men collapsed to the ground when he stepped away from them.
“He killed randomly, and mercilessly, striking when he felt hunger, not caring if it was someone’s fated time to go or if they had done something to displease the gods. We decided to destroy him, before he could do any more damage. We tore him to small pieces, then set him afire, the only way we knew of to dispose of our own kind, when they were punished by being forced to be reborn. We didn’t know, however, that it was already too late. Without our knowledge, and probably without even realizing it himself, he had already created more beings like him by biting other humans but not killing them.”
The scene changed to day, though we still watched from a rooftop, as a woman walked out of a house, staring intently at her hands, dried blood caked on her gown. The street was busy, and most people passed without noticing her, but one woman, a slave, stopped nearby, her own hands rising to her mouth in horror. The bloodied woman stepped out from under the shade of her roof into the sunlight, and her skin threw off rainbows like she was covered with millions of crystals. The traffic in the street stopped as everyone turned to stare at her. The slave woman screamed a blood-curdling shriek of utter terror. The shining woman lifted her eyes to her, and we could see that they were a vibrant red. Without a sound, and with a flick of her hand so quick we barely saw it, she had pulled the woman to her by the throat. The woman’s screams cut off in a gurgle as her life was drained away.
“The creatures would sometimes slaughter whole villages, but it seemed there was always someone they left to change into one of them. We tried to hunt them all down and discovered that their souls and flesh tasted better to us than humans’, but they learned to come out only at night and hid from us in the day. Our half sisters, the Fates, were greatly angered that so many lives were being cut short before their determined time, and they blamed it all on us. They campaigned to have our duties reassigned, to make us mortal, so we hunted the creatures even more persistently.
Knowing the creatures’ relation to us, the other deities began to call them Strigoi Morti, the dead Strix, after our owl form. The humans adopted this, but also began to call us the Strigoi Vii, the living Strix. Centuries passed, and we were all distressed over being relegated to the status of minor daemons. We thought we had eradicated all but a few of the Strigoi Morti, but little did we know, they had been waiting and plotting.
Three of our brothers, Aita, Mantus, and Charun, were particularly upset about our demotions and one day set out to plead our cases. They didn’t return, and we all thought that they must have found some tribe to worship them. I suppose we were right, in the end, just not in the way we had imagined.”
We walked through a dark tunnel and then pushed through a small door into an open area. There were many people in the room, and when we looked closely, we saw that they all had scarlet eyes. On the far side of the room, three men sat in thrones, ruling over the rest. Their eyes were red like the others, and their skin was even paler than we remembered it but now like marble instead of iridescent leather. They were our lost brothers, but somehow transformed into Strigoi Morti.
“They explained to us that they had been captured by the creatures, who had decided that if they could change some of our own kind, we might leave them alone. The change wasn’t as simple for our brothers as it was for humans. When they were bit, their bodies actually became stone, and they were paralyzed. Several creatures attacked each of them at once, to incapacitate them quickly. They had to be completely drained of their blood before the Strigoi Morti’s venom could completely take effect. When the arduous process was done, two of them had maintained some of their powers, and they took over the clan that had abducted them. They set themselves up as gods in the province that the clan lived in, finally regaining the worship and immortality they had so desired.
We made a deal with them, seeing that they were family, and we promised to stop hunting their kind as long as they kept their numbers in check and did their best to feed off humans who were fated to die soon, such as the infirm or warriors headed to battle. If any of their kind went astray, or caused undue notice amongst the humans, we had the right to kill that one if they didn’t get to him first. The deal also benefitted us, because the other deities eventually forgave us and re-granted us our positions, since the Fates were appeased.”
He interrupted his own lecture, “Are you following all of this? Have any questions?”
“I’m following. I just don’t really understand how all of this really relates to us. I know I was only born seventeen years ago, are you saying we’re descended from immortal beings?”
“In a way, but it’s much more than that. Eventually, our powers faded again, but this time because humans stopped believing in us, turning to monotheistic religions, for the most part. We spread out, settling in different places, but our stronghold became Eastern Europe. The Strigoi Morti didn’t feel as obliged to stick to their side of our bargain, since the Fates had even fewer people believing in them than we did: death has a place in every culture.
In the Slavic lands, humans began to call the Strigoi Morti “upir,” a play on their word for bat, and we were quick to adopt the phrase, hoping to separate ourselves from them in people’s minds. The world travelled with us and became the more common “vampire” we know today. The vampires were becoming jealous of us, though.
We had always been able to age ourselves at will, since we could change our appearance, but we had lost the ability to mate with each other when the humans’ faith in us diminished and were only able to have children with humans. The offspring from these unions would have some of our powers, but could usually only change into one form, and while they could age slower than humans, they could have children of their own, and they did eventually grow old and die. We split apart; usually only two or three of us would live together amongst our mortal offspring, to keep humans from becoming suspicious.”
“So the vampires were jealous that we could have children? Could they not have children?” I asked, thinking it was a petty reaction for an immortal being.
“No, they could not have children, because their bodies were frozen in death, but they didn’t particularly care about actually having children, as far as I know. They were more upset that we didn’t have to hide ourselves, that we could go anywhere we wanted with no one being the wiser, and we had a long-standing tradition of mating with royalty, so our children pretty much ruled the human world, even if we didn’t.
We still had an uneasy truce, though, until the eighteen hundreds. Then, a sister of ours, who had been married and completely devoted to one of our brothers for thousands of years, became pregnant. The couple had never had children by humans, and word spread about their condition.”
“Ewww,” I interrupted, “They were brother and sister?”
“You’re missing the point, Bells. The vampires heard the news too, and our former brothers decided to take action against us. We had gathered our siblings together to celebrate, never thinking any harm could befall us, and one night, the vampires attacked us.”
He didn’t show me a memory this time, but I remembered my vision from the previous night, the ballroom and the people fighting.
“They focused on our women, taking off with many of them, paralyzing them with their bites and tearing them into pieces. They scattered them around the world, keeping their souls attached to their bodies so they couldn’t be reborn. Others they brutally maimed, ensuring they would never have children.”
My disgust and horror must have shown on my face because he patted my arm where he still had held it. “Why didn’t they just make them into vampires, too?” I whispered.
“Our former brothers were afraid that they might have powers stronger than their own and didn’t want their control challenged. Some of the maimed sisters requested that we destroy them so that they could be reborn, even though it would be as a child of our mortal offspring. Luckily, they each maintained their memory from their previous life and also kept most of their powers, though they wouldn’t gain their full powers or memories until they hit puberty. Some of our brothers decided to go the same route, wanting to grow old with the sisters they were close to. We found the pieces of many of our other sisters and allowed them to be reborn as well.
The vampires figured out what we were doing and began to kidnap the reborn children, giving them to humans for adoption and watching them from afar. We can only assume they kept the children alive to prevent them from being reborn quickly, but they discovered that the children wouldn’t change if they were separated from the Strigoi, a fact we already knew from our mortal grandchildren who had moved away from us.
To keep us from eventually finding them, as soon as the children had reached adulthood, the vampires would change them, keeping their souls attached to a body that didn’t have the same abilities or memories they were used to. Sometimes, the memories from those souls attach themselves to our other reborn siblings’ souls.”
My head was starting to hurt, and the whole thing was starting to sound complicated, as if everything could have been so much easier if it weren’t for the hubris of immortal beings who should have had better things to worry about.
“Why would that have happened?” I asked, hoping the answer wouldn’t confuse me even more.
“We don’t really know, maybe because we all once shared our memories until our powers faded, maybe because they have important things to tell us.”
I sighed. “So, which was I, one of the girls who were maimed, or one who was torn apart?”
He patted my arm again. “You were torn apart. We had found most of you by the nineteen-fifties, so I asked to be reborn then. Eighteen years ago we found the rest, I met your mother, and you were reborn.”
I squeezed my hands together, anxious at thoughts of my mother. “Does Renee know? Is she like us?”
“No, she’s human, but more open-minded than most. I told her about us soon after you were born; when she started noticing that you were quieter and more focused than most babies. We decided that it would be best if you went away with her, so you would have a chance to grow up without the vampires knowing where to look for you.”
“Now, though, am I safe from them?”
“I hoped that since you were old enough to come into your powers now, they would leave you alone. I just can’t believe that it’s a coincidence that a family of vampires moved in down the street two years ago, just when you would have gained your powers if you had lived with me.”
I pulled away from him, still squeezing my hands together in my lap as I looked down at them. “You said earlier that you read Edward’s mind and that it was full of me. Is he here to kill me?”
“His thoughts weren’t exactly about killing you, though he does think you smell appetizing. He would, though, know that I can read his thoughts, so he might have been thinking specific thoughts to throw me off.”
“So it could all be innocent?” I asked with hope.
He looked at me with frustration. “Haven’t you been listening? It doesn’t matter, Bells. Even if he’s just a confused vampire in lust, you must stay away from the Cullens. It wouldn’t be long before one of them, or their friends, decides to rat you out.”
I put my head in my hands, exhausted. “So, what am I supposed to do? I go to school with them, you know?”
“I know,” he responded quietly. “I doubt they’ll do anything in front of humans, just try not to be alone with them. I’ll keep an eye open, but if you see or sense anything suspicious, let me know, and we’ll leave, go to others of our kind where we’ll be safer. In the meantime, we can try to figure out why and how they are openly interacting with humans.”
I didn’t want to spy on Edward and his family, not even for my own father. I still couldn’t believe he was a monster like the ones who had destroyed my family; he didn’t even have red eyes like the vampires Dad had shown me. I did have to admit, though, that I had probably always known that Edward wasn’t quite human; he was too perfect, too astute, and too ingrained in my dreams.
Charlie and I hunted together that night, because he didn’t want me going out on my own. He told me he would take me to the police station the next day and teach me to feed off of humans’ energy without harming them so I could feed at school and not need to go out to hunt.
When we got home I quietly went to my room and tried to go to sleep, but my thoughts were filled with Edward, and the tugging on my chest was a constant ache. I felt like a sentimental fool, knowing he was most likely planning my demise but wanting nothing more than to be near him.
It was past midnight when my bedroom door flew open and my father rushed to my window, yanking it open and leaning out, peering into the darkness outside. He stared for several minutes before he spoke. “He’s out there. He was thinking about climbing through your window, was weighing the pros and cons, and even though I’m standing right here looking at him, he’s still out there.”
I stretched my neck, trying to look out the window around Dad’s back, longing for just a glimpse of Edward in the night. Dad must have heard me because he turned to me, and seeing the desperation on my face, he shut and locked the window with a sigh before walking to me. He put a hand on my cheek as he told me with pity, “I know you’re a romantic, baby, but this isn’t a fairytale. That boy’s role in your life isn’t to be your knight in shining armor.”
I smiled to keep myself from crying. “I know, Daddy, I’m no damsel.”
He smiled back sadly and nodded. He went to his room but came back a moment later with his pillow and blanket, and he fell asleep in front of my window.