We were headed out to Edythe's car after school, when Archie sprung the news on me.
"So by the way, we're having a graduation thing. Me, Edythe, and you."
He said this brightly, as though expecting me to throw an arm over his shoulder and exclaim, "Really? You're the greatest, man, let's go wild!"
I could only stare at him. Either in shock or horror, I wasn't sure.
"I was planning to leave it as a kind of surprise deal," he went on. "But I saw you totally freaking out if I did, and Edythe threatened to tell you if I didn't."
I sighed. "Is there any point in arguing?"
Archie flashed a grin. "None whatsoever. Invitations are already in the mail."
"Fine," I grumbled. "I'll be there. And I promise I'll hate every minute of it."
Archie slapped me on the back. "That's the spirit. By the way, I dig what you got me—you know me too well."
I frowned. "I haven't got you anything."
Archie shrugged. "I know. But you will."
My frown deepened. I tried to remembered what I could have decided to get him that he could have seen, but I was completely drawing up blank. That was great—something else to worry about.
Edythe folded her arms and shared a look with me. "Annoying sometimes, isn't he?"
I shook my head. "Well, I am glad you didn't try to throw me in the middle of a party without some advance notice. But for future reference, you could wait a little longer to tell me next time. I'm just going to be dreading it for weeks now."
Edythe and Archie both stared at me, then shared a look.
"Uh," Archie began. "You know what day it is, don't you?"
I shrugged. "Monday?"
"Yeah. Monday. The fourth." Archie suddenly seized me under the arm, and spun me around to face the gym door. On it was taped a big yellow poster, in bold black letters declaring the date of graduation. Exactly one week from today.
I stared, stupefied. It was the fourth—of June? Where had the time gone? All the weeks of stress and worry, and now—
Now my deadline was almost here.
All along I'd been anxious to move on to the next phase, to get on with things so I could join Edythe and we could finally be together. But now that the time was here, I suddenly realized I wasn't ready. When I left my humanity, there were people I would have to say goodbye to. Charlie, my mom...Jules. But I didn't know how to say goodbye. Not yet.
Being human was all I knew. And very soon, that would all change. My human life was about to come to an abrupt end. I realized I hadn't known just how truly terrifying the thought really was until now it was almost upon me.
I was out of it as I got in the car and Edythe, apparently noticing my abstraction, didn't try to talk to me as Archie went on animatedly from the backseat.
Edythe dropped Archie off at their house, and after that we ended up at mine. Edythe led me over to the sofa, and I followed her automatically, though my thoughts were still miles away. I stared vaguely out the window into the murky gray haze outside. I knew what I wanted, what I had decided on. But the future was shrouded, an unknown quantity. I wanted my future to be with Edythe, but...
But.
I just sat there for a long time, staring out the window. Edythe sat silently beside me, and it wasn't until the rain was disappearing into darkness that she finally spoke.
"I'm glad I made Archie tell you," she said softly. "This is even more of a reaction than I expected. Your lips are white."
I realized I'd been holding my breath, and I let it out in a heavy gust. I shook my head. "It's not that. I guess...I just didn't realize graduation was that soon. I don't mean the graduation thing with Archie, I mean...figuring everything else out. Charlie...my mom...What am I going to say? How I should...what I should...before..."
I couldn't say anymore. Understanding washed across Edythe's face and she gazed up at me. The pounding rain outside suddenly sounded louder in the quiet.
"You're not ready," she whispered.
"I am," I answered, responding in reflex. But in this moment it was a lie, and Edythe knew it. I swallowed, then said quietly, "I have to be."
Edythe gripped my hand. "You don't have to be anything," she said earnestly. "Isn't that what I've been telling you all along? You don't need to rush this. All the human experiences you haven't had...when you change, the last thing I want is for you to be left with any regrets."
I shook my head, trying to get my thoughts in order. "I'm nothing but a liability to you as I am now. A target for Victor, and whoever was in my room. And Sulpicia said..."
Edythe gripped my hand harder. She pressed her face against my neck and murmured, "No. I won't let you change because you feel obligated or afraid. If it's going to happen, it has to be your choice—because it's what you want."
I didn't answer. I wanted to argue, but I couldn't.
Edythe pulled away from me, gazing up into my face. Her hand came up to cradle my cheek, and she leaned up to kiss my cheek. "There," she murmured. "Nothing to worry about. Trust me, Beau, I will keep you safe. I will make sure you have a choice."
I gazed back into her determined eyes for a long moment, and something I'd wondered about for so long suddenly returned to me. I felt a shadow of unease pass across my mind, and for a moment my other anxieties drifted temporarily to the background.
"Can...Can I ask you something?" I said hesitantly.
She seemed to notice my tension, and she stroked my hand soothingly. "Anything," she murmured.
I opened my mouth—then asked something else instead. "Do you know what I'm getting Archie for graduation?"
Edythe blinked. She smiled a bit uncertainly. "They looked like rock concert tickets, I think."
"Oh yeah," I said. I'd seen an ad in the paper last week, and I knew it was a band Archie liked, and Edythe had said she liked their CD. "I was thinking the three of us could go. Hope they're not sold out."
Edythe laughed. "I think Archie would have seen if they were."
I smiled ruefully. "I guess that's true."
Again, we were quiet. I could feel Edythe's eyes on me, and at last she said quietly, "There was something else you meant to ask."
I didn't look up. However, at last I nodded once and took the plunge.
"You don't want me to be a vampire," I said finally. It came out in a rush, and my face felt hot.
Edythe studied me for a moment, probably more interested in my odd behavior than in what I had actually said. "No I don't," she agreed.
I nodded, taking a steadying breath. "Yeah. Well...for awhile now, I've been kind of wondering why that was."
Edythe stared back at me, mystified. "But I have told you, haven't I, Beau? Again and again. Being human, having a heartbeat—you have no idea the gift that is. I want to make you happy, I want to give you everything I have to give—I can't stand seeing you forced to make any sacrifice on my account."
I gazed down at her for a long minute. "And that's all? That's the only reason?"
"Yes," she said, looking confused at my expression. "What other reason could there be?"
I hesitated. Then I gathered what little courage I had and began, "Before, you were reading Frankenstein. I saw this passage, and I wasn't sure if that was the one you were reading, but..."
I paused briefly, carefully studying Edythe's face. But she still only looked perplexed.
I took another steadying breath, and went on. "When Victor Frankenstein is thinking about how he shouldn't make another monster, and how in the end the monster may end up being repulsed by another monster's hideousness—Well, when you talk about other vampires and newborns, you call them monsters. You always sound kind of...repulsed. So, I've been wondering if the real reason you don't want me to become a vampire is...because I'll be different. Because I won't smell the same, and...well, I keep wondering if you think you might be repulsed by the new me."
Edythe's mouth opened in shock. Her eyes were pained. "Oh, Beau," she whispered.
"I want you to tell me the truth," I said evenly. "Don't worry about my feelings, I just want you to tell me what you're really feeling."
Edythe gazed up into my eyes. For a moment, she looked stricken. Trapped.
My slightly hard, determined expression turned pleading. I took her cold hand and pressed it to my lips.
"Please, Edythe," I said quietly. "Just tell me the truth, whatever it is. I just want to know what you're thinking. Nothing hurts more than feeling like you don't think I could handle the truth—like you have to keep things from me, and shoulder everything yourself."
Edythe gazed up at me, her eyes haunted, and her skin stood out starkly white in the dim light.
"The truth," she repeated. I could see the conflict raging in her eyes, and for a moment her face was tense with an agony I couldn't understand. However, she closed her eyes, and seemed to come to a decision.
I was surprised as I suddenly felt both her hands against my face. For a moment she cradled my face in her hands. Then, slowly, she drew back one hand, and gently traced each feature with the very tip of her finger. My nose, my lips, my jaw. Though her hands were frigid as ice, my skin seemed to burn where she touched me, and I saw a feverish light in her eyes.
"The truth is," she whispered, "I want it. More than anything. You don't understand, how terrified I am every moment that something will happen to you. I have to make sure I am concentrating all the time to keep from killing you by accident. I'm like the monster in your book—asking for someone else to be forced to join me in my fate so that I may have my ideal companion. For myself, I would make you a monster like me, so I could keep you forever, so that you would be safe, so I would never have to lose you."
Her eyes were desperate and full of anguish as they gazed up into mine. "When I do this," she whispered, "it will be the most selfish, criminal act I have ever done."
I stared down into her eyes for a long moment. "And that's it?" I said in a low, hoarse voice.
"Yes," she said, her beautiful voice cracking slightly. "That's the truth."
I stared down at her a second longer. And then, I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. I felt her arms around my neck, and I felt her fingers in my hair. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her against me, feeling her cold form against my chest.
When I pulled away I was panting slightly, and I was surprised to hear Edythe's breathing coming a little faster too. I kept my arms around her, pressing her face against my shoulder, and leaning my head against hers.
"I love you," I whispered in her ear.
"I know," she murmured back. She turned her face away from mine, leaning her head against my collarbone, while her fingers caressed my shoulder. "And I think I love you. But—if I really loved you, would I do this? Wouldn't I do what was best for you?"
"If you love me, you'll let me choose for myself," I corrected her. "And not second-guess the decision once it's made." I added, "But you're always free to give me advice."
Edythe laughed softly. "Advice that will undoubtedly go unheeded." She sighed then, and pulled back a little.
I let go and sat back on the sofa, though I reached out for her hand again, and she took it automatically.
"So," I said, as casually as I could. "That passage in Frankenstein...if you weren't looking at the part about him maybe being repulsed by her...then you must have been looking at the other. About how the new monster, once she's made, might choose to leave him."
I turned my head to give Edythe a sideways look, raising an eyebrow. "So, in other words, you were thinking about the possibility that, after you change me, I'll change my mind and leave."
Edythe didn't reply, frowning out the dark window.
"Do you really think that?" I asked. "Do you really think that when I become a vampire, I might be that different? A completely different person, who doesn't keep the promises he made in a previous life? Who doesn't love you?"
Edythe smiled a little, and said lightly, "You already have acted strangely reluctant at the prospect of marrying me. I notice you still haven't told either your mother or your father, or anyone else. Perhaps you are already afraid of tying yourself down with obligations."
I shook my head. "That's something else. I'm just afraid my mom's going to kill me. Or people will think I got you pregnant or something. Just normal human social stuff. But it's okay—if it's what you want. I pretty much already consider myself bonded for life anyway, marriage is just a part of it. I'm asking you if you're afraid that, after I change, I won't be the same person—if you honestly think I might be so different there'd ever be even the slightest possibility I would even think about leaving you."
Edythe hesitated. "I...I don't know, Beau. I guess I don't know what to expect. I don't remember much about my human life. But a change that extreme can alter people in a major way—just look at Royal. Royal remembers his human self, and even though on the surface he may seem similar, deep down he's very different from what he was then. In some ways, I think the change was for the better, but he also knows he's harder, colder—there's just so much we don't know about this, Beau, besides whether we still have souls."
I gazed down at her. Then I said, "I know becoming a vampire will change me. I expect that. But if there's one core, fundamental part of me I know can't be changed, it's that I love you. I hope you know that, and you don't have to be afraid of anything."
Edythe smiled, her fingers brushing my face. "And most of me believes that, too. I'm sorry if I've in any way alarmed you with my idle fears. You just have to understand that I love you so much—sometimes it makes me a little paranoid."
I smiled a little ruefully. "We're both kind of paranoid, aren't we?"
Edythe laughed softly. "As paranoid as a pair of criminals."
Smiling, I draped an arm over her shoulders and leaned back against the couch.
I could feel a deep relief spreading through me, more than I would have expected. I hadn't realized until I'd actually put the question into words just how much I'd been worrying about that, and I was also glad to be able to put some of Edythe's anxieties to rest, too. It was funny—in my mind, the two of us were about as close as two people could be, but still sometimes it was hard to come out and just talk honestly. I wondered if I would ever be completely free of that lurking fear of eventual rejection.
But, happy and reassured for the moment, I turned my head to beam down at her.
"You can say that again," I said, and to my surprise, my tone was nearly as bright as Archie's going on about the graduation party. "But, that makes me wonder—what will our next crime be?"
I woke up the next morning to realize I was one day closer to graduation. I was a bit stressed over finals, in spite of he fact very soon they wouldn't matter. I still felt the compulsion to study, though I doubted I would get through half of what I needed to get done.
When I went down for breakfast, I found Charlie had already left for work. He'd left the paper on the table, and I remembered I needed to find that ad for the concert tickets if I was going to get them like Archie expected me to.
I sighed. Psychic powers definitely took all the fun out of gifts.
However, as I hooked my finger under the edge of the paper, meaning to flip it back to the entertainment section, my eyes caught the bold headlines, and I felt a chill.
SEATTLE TERROIZED BY SLAYINGS
I scanned the contents, and felt myself grow more tense with every word. They were considering the possibility of a serial killer now, in spite of the broad range of ages and ethnicities of the victims, because of the similarities in the manner of death, and the universal lack of evidence in each case. The article brought up Gary Ridgeway, or the Green River killer, who had been convicted of the murder of forty-eight women, and been in active in Seattle for part of his reign of terror. But with the escalating violence of this killer—six murders in the first month, eleven in the second, and twenty-two in the last ten days—not to mention bizarre and sometimes even seemingly impossible murders, people disappearing from homes, fourth-story apartments, and in one case, even a movie theater, the body discovered burning in a dumpster twenty miles away, the city seemed even more baffled and panic-stricken than it had been back then.
The article concluded,
The evidence is conflicting, the pieces horrifying. A vicious new gang or a wildly active serial killer? Or something else the police haven't yet conceived of?
Only one conclusion is indisputable: something hideous is stalking Seattle.
I slowly sank down into the chair Charlie usually sat in, and I realized I was shaking.
"Beau?"
I turned my eyes to Edythe. She immediately saw how pale I was, my eyes wide with panic, and she was at my side in an instant.
"What's wrong?" she whispered. "Are you all right?"
I gripped the paper tightly. "Have you seen this?" I asked quietly.
Edythe frowned. "No. Not today's news. But we know it's getting very bad—we are going to have to act, and soon."
I was quiet. I didn't like the thought of Edythe and the others going down to fight the vampire or vampires responsible for all this carnage. It would certainly be dangerous for all of them.
"Has Archie seen anything?" I asked.
Edythe sighed. "No, nothing. In fact, he's been unusually frustrated with himself. I've never seen him lose confidence in himself and his powers this way before."
"What's wrong, do you think?" I asked. "Why wouldn't he be able to see this, when he usually can see everything else?"
"I don't know," Edythe answered. "But I'm beginning to think the problem is us—we're relying on Archie's powers too much. We've been waiting for Archie to see something so we can go and know what to expect. But Archie can't see us there until we actually decide to ct—our only option may be to do this entirely blind."
I shivered at the thought. "I hope it doesn't come to that."
"People will keep dying if we don't act soon," she said simply.
I didn't have any reply to that, so I didn't answer.
Edythe's eyes scanned the paper briefly, narrowing ever so slightly, then she looked at me.
"In spite of the fact I know very well that Charlie may like me even less to know I am in anyway promoting delinquency," she began. "Would you be terribly upset if you skipped school today? There won't be any new material anyway, it's all review for finals in a couple of days."
I thought about all the studying I really ought to be doing, then shrugged. "Truancy. Cool. I'm in. What are we doing?"
"I think it would be a good idea to talk to Jessamine," Edythe said.
I nodded, remembering the cryptic comment Edythe had made about Jessamine being an expert on newborns. I wondered what that meant. What did Jessamine know that Edythe and Archie didn't?
It was strange, in the relatively tight-knit Cullen family, Jessamine always came across as the quiet one, a little removed from the others. I knew she had come from the south before Archie had seen her in a vision and sought her out, and she was the newest member of the Cullen family, but other than that, Edythe had avoided telling me much about Jessamine's past.
When we arrived at the house, we found Carine, Earnest, and Jessamine sitting in front of the television, eyes trained on the news, and I realized it was a story covering the incidents in Seattle. Archie was sitting at the bottom of the grand staircase. He wasn't his usual cheerful self, and instead his forehead was creased and his mouth tight. He looked restless, on edge.
Just as we came in, Eleanor strolled in from the kitchen, looking almost criminally relaxed. Eleanor was a carefree spirit if there ever was one, and never seemed affected by any tension in the atmosphere.
"Yo, Edythe," she called. "Hey, Beau. Ditching?"
I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "Sure. No big deal."
She laughed, and lightly poked me in the shoulder—lightly for her, though I had a feeling I would have a bruise in the morning. "Yeah, go ahead, try to be cool. But you know you'll always be a straight A, goody-goody to me."
Edythe folded her arms. "In case you failed to notice, Eleanor, we are facing a growing crisis at the moment."
"Right," said Eleanor, grinning, cracking her knuckles. "Bring it on."
Exasperated, Edythe turned away and continued on into the room. She had brought along Charlie's paper, and she now tossed it to Carine.
"Did you see they're considering a serial killer now?" she asked.
"Yes, we know," Carine said with a sigh, catching the paper deftly though her eyes never moved from the screen. "They've been debating the possibility all morning on CNN..."
"We'll have to do something soon," Edythe said quietly.
"Let's go now," Eleanor put in, sauntering up behind the couch and punching a fist into her hand. "It's dead boring around here."
An ominous growl echoed from upstairs, and I turned to see Royal at the top of the staircase. He descended slowly, eyes on Eleanor.
"We'll have to go sometime," Edythe agreed, making no sign she had noticed Royal's arrival. Her voice was even.
Carine sighed very deeply and looked troubled. "Under normal circumstances, Sulpicia would not appreciate our interference. She does not like vigilantes—she and the rest of the Volturi have the most experience taking care of this kind of situation quietly and efficiently. And yet...if she is too preoccupied to act...this is getting dangerously out of control. Not to mention the humans who are dying."
"I wouldn't want any of Sulpicia's dogs coming here anyway," Edythe said harshly. "It would be better if we take care of it—if Sulpicia does send someone, I'm sure she would also think to order them to come here after they were done to check on Beau. This close to graduation, she may even order them to stay to ensure he's changed exactly when she specified—and for obvious reasons, the last thing we want is Volturi guards hanging around, feeling the need to hunt to keep themselves occupied."
Carine shook her head. "Yes...only, not knowing he precise nature of the situation we might be walking into...it could be dangerous."
Edythe suddenly froze where she was and she turned, not to Carine, but to Jessamine, sitting quietly on the end of the couch.
"You know what," Edythe said, sounding stunned, "I bet that is it. I bet that's exactly it. That would change everything."
Jessamine and Edythe were apparently having some kind of silent exchange and I could see the annoyance on just about everyone's faces.
"Mind sharing with the class?" Eleanor said impatiently.
Edythe looked to Jessamine. "You'd better be the one to explain. This is your area of expertise."
Edythe pulled away from me and began to pace, and I could tell she was deep in thought. When I looked to my other side, I saw Archie had appeared to stand beside Jessamine.
"What's she talking about?" he said to Jessamine. "What'd you think of?"
Jessamine didn't look all that happy to suddenly find herself the central focus in the room. A circle had formed around her, waiting to hear what she would say, and she hesitated, looking briefly from face to face. At last her ocher eyes settled on me.
"You're confused," she said softly. Her gentle voice was always low, with just a hint of a rasp. Of course it wasn't a question—Jessamine always knew what I was feeling, as she knew what everyone was feeling.
"He can join the club then," Eleanor grumbled. "Are you going to tell us this grand epiphany, or are you going to keep us sitting here all day?"
Jessamine smiled a little, and her eyes didn't move from me as she answered, "Patience...For Beau to understand, I need to explain a few other things first. And he should understand—he's one of the us now, after all."
I blinked, startled. I hadn't had a lot to do with Jessamine, especially the last few months following my birthday when she'd lost control and tried to kill me. So I hadn't known she thought of me in those terms—I was glad to know it.
"Beau," Jessamine began, "just how much do you know about me?"
Eleanor sighed with obvious impatience, and threw herself down on the couch, the picture of boredom.
I shrugged. "Not a whole lot, now that you mention it."
Jessamine nodded slowly. Then she reached over, putting a hand on a nearby lampshade. She tilted the shade back, so the bright light fell across her face and neck. She reached up and touched a finger to her neck, just below the jawline. She traced the finger back in a half-circle motion.
I realized there was something I was supposed to be seeing, and I leaned in close, squinting at the spot she was pointing. I concentrated hard, until I saw...
"Oh," I breathed, startled. I instinctively I raised my right hand to look down at my finger. On it was a white crescent scar—the one Joss had given me in that ballet studio what seemed so long ago. I looked back up at Jessamine, and I saw on her neck where she was pointing a white scar on her pale skin, the same distinctive crescent shape. The skin was uneven, bumpy, but it was barely visible even in the bright light.
"That's just like mine," I said.
Jessamine smiled faintly. Then her finger moved from the scar to another spot on her neck, tracing the same crescent pattern. I squinted and saw another scar there, too. Then her hand moved again, and again...
My eyes followed the movement, and before long I began to see the subtle texture on her neck, her jawline, the side of her face. White crescents crossed over white crescents, so many it was hard to tell where one ended and another began.
Jessamine reached down and began to slowly roll back the sleeve of her pale ivory sweater. As she drew it back, I saw it was even worse than her neck—white on white, covered in feathery half-moons from wrist to elbow, only visible thrown into relief by the bright lamplight.
For a moment I could only stare, disbelieving. Then I sucked in a sharp breath.
"Jessamine," I began in a hoarse voice. "What—What happened to you?"