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 my shoulder
and spinning me around to look back toward the door we'd just e
through。 Every time he touched me; in even the most casual way; my heart
had an audible reaction。 It was more embarrassing with Carlisle there。
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 mon; but I found
nothing in my hasty examination。
Edward pulled me toward the far left side; standing me in front of a
small square oil painting in a plain wooden frame。 This one did not stand
out among the bigger and brighter pieces; painted in varying tones of
sepia; it depicted a miniature city full of steeply slanted roofs; with
thin spires atop a few scattered towers。 A wide river filled the
foreground; crossed by a bridge covered with structures that looked like
tiny cathedrals。
〃London in the sixteenfifties;〃 Edward said。
〃The London of my youth;〃 Carlisle added; from a few feet behind us。 I
flinched; I hadn't heard him approach。 Edward squeezed my hand。
〃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 — 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 bination to absorb — the everyday concerns of the
town doctor stuck in the middle of a discussion of his early days in
seventeenthcentury London。
It was also unsettling to know that he spoke aloud only for my benefit。
After another warm smile for me; Carlisle left the room。
I stared at the little picture of Carlisle's hometown for a long moment。
〃What happened then?〃 I finally asked; staring up at Edward; who was
watching me。 〃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 — an
empty; shadowed meadow in a forest; with a craggy peak in the distance。
〃When he knew what he had bee;〃 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 me; 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?〃 My voice was faint。
〃No; there are very few ways we can be killed。〃
I opened my mouth to ask; but he spoke before I could。
〃So he grew very hungry; and eventually weak。 He strayed as far as he
could from the human populace; recognizing that his willpower was
weakening; too。 For months he wandered by night; seeking the loneliest
places; loathing himself。
〃One night; a herd of deer passed his hiding place。 He was so wild with
thirst that he attacked without a thought。 His strength returned and he
realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster he feared。
Had he not eaten venison in his former life? Over the next months his new
philosophy was born。 He could exist without being a demon。 He found
himself again。
〃He began to make better use of his time。 He'd always been intelligent;
eager to learn。 Now he had unlimited time before him。 He studied by
night; planned by day。 He swam to France and —〃
〃He swam to France?〃
〃People swim the Channel all the time; Bella;〃 he reminded me patiently。
〃That's true; I guess。 It just sounded funny in that context。 Go on。〃
〃Swimming is easy for us —〃
〃Everything is easy for you;〃 I griped。
He waited; his expression amused。
〃I won't interrupt again; I promise。〃
He chuckled darkly; and finished his sentence。 〃Because; technically; we
don't need to breathe。〃
〃You —〃
〃No; no; you promised。〃 He laughed; putting his cold finger lightly to my
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;〃 I mumbled against his finger。
He lifted his hand; moving it to rest against my neck。 The speed of my
heart reacted to that; but I persisted。
〃You don't have to breathe?〃 I demanded。
〃No; it's not necessary。 Just a habit。〃 He shrugged。
〃How long can you go… without breathing?〃
〃Indefinitely; I suppose; I don't know。 It gets a bit unfortable —
being without a sense of smell。〃
〃A bit unfortable;〃 I echoed。
I wasn't paying attention to my own expression; but something in it made
him grow somber。 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。
His face softened under my hand; and he sighed。 〃I keep waiting for it to
happen。〃
〃For what to happen?〃
〃I know that at some point; something I tell you or something you see is
going to be too much。 And then you'll run away from me; screaming as you
go。〃 He smiled half a smile; but his eyes were serious。 〃I won't stop
you。 I want this to happen; because I want you to be safe。 And yet; I
want to be with you。 The two desires are impossible to reconcile…〃 He
trailed off; staring at my face。 Waiting。
〃I'm not running anywhere;〃 I promised。
〃We'll see;〃 he said; smiling again。
I frowned at him。 〃So; go on — Carlisle was swimming to France。〃
He paused; getting back into his story。 Reflexively; his eyes flickered
to another picture — the most colorful of them all; the most ornately
framed; and the largest; it was twice as wide as the door it hung next
to。 The canvas overflowed with bright figures in swirling robes; writhing
around long pillars and off marbled balconies。 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 — 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 selfcontrol。 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 paratively 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 goldenhaired 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 blackhaired; one snowywhite。 〃Nighttime patrons of
the arts。〃
〃What happened to them?〃 I wondered aloud; my 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 panionship
he craved evaded him; he couldn't risk familiarity。
〃When the influenza epidemic hit; he was working nights in a hospital in
Chicago。 He'd been turning over an idea in his mind for several years;
and he had almost decided to act — since he couldn't find a panion; 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