As the sound of a car grew closer, Carlisle stepped toward the window to see who it was. He already knew Frankenstein was coming, though he had no idea why.
He peered outside, saw the familiar car, took a deep breath, and turned to the others. "It's okay," he said in his best everything-is-fine-please-don't-panic voice. "He's my colleague."
The tension in the room eased, and everyone relaxed. Their eyes shifted to Alice, who now looked both embarrassed and mildly confused by her apparent mix-up. (Nice one, Alice.).
Without waiting, Carlisle went downstairs to greet his guest and find out the reason for the visit.
But as soon as he stepped outside, he stopped.
And immediately wished he hadn't.
Frankenstein wasn't there.
Instead, it was him.
Raizel.
Esme, who had followed Carlisle outside with a warm smile, also froze. She had expected to see Carlisle's colleague, but instead, there was a young man with a powerful presence. Another man with long blond hair stood beside him, likely Frankenstein, but Esme couldn't take her eyes off Raizel. His red eyes made her loose composure.
She turned to Carlisle for reassurance, but he looked just as stunned.
For Carlisle, this moment was overwhelming. His mind raced back to the ancient paintings in the Volturi's halls—paintings of beings far older and stronger than any Cold One. The black hair, the red eyes, overwhelming presence.
And the cross-shaped earring ?
There was no doubt.
The Noble race.
They were the reason the Volturi existed. Without them, Cold Ones would have been wiped out long ago. Even the so-called rulers of their kind had once bowed to them.
And now, one of them stood right here.
Carlisle's legs, ever so helpful in moments of crisis, decided to give up on him. Without thinking, he sank to his knees.
The rest of the family, having just walked outside, collectively malfunctioned.
Edward, in particular, felt his non-existent heart drop to his non-existent stomach. Because, of course, it had to be him. The mysterious, unsettling, and annoyingly composed man from before.
Esme, after a split second of hesitation, followed Carlisle's lead. The others remained standing, likely too busy processing the fact that Carlisle Cullen, the man who practically invented the "we-don't-kneel-to-anyone" rule, was now on his knees.
Raizel, meanwhile, looked down at them with the same unreadable expression one might give a particularly stubborn puzzle piece.
"We could talk inside," he said, completely unfazed.
Carlisle lifted his head, met Raizel's gaze, and slowly stood up, as if trying to remember how legs worked.
Raizel's lips barely moved. "Lead the way."
Carlisle, still shaken but too polite to ignore an invitation request, motioned toward the house. As Raizel stepped in, his gaze flickered over each member of the Cullen family.
Alice had her head slightly lowered in respect. Jasper gave a small nod. Rosalie avoided looking at him. Emmett stood still, trying to be polite.
Then, Raizel's gaze settled on Edward.
Edward, to his credit, tried to stay calm.
But then Raizel's voice echoed in his mind.
"I told you, we meet again."
Edward stiffened.
This was going to be a problem.