the truth

I had the sense that I'd been asleep for a long time. All my limbs felt stiff as boards, and my back ached, like I hadn't moved at all in that time. Disjointed images flitted through my dazed head like a movie on fast forward—pieces of a vivid dream. A mix of darkness and light, monsters and angels, terror and joy.

I decided to keep my eyes shut a little longer. It had been a good dream overall, I decided. More than good. So good I didn't want to let it go.

However, I felt my mind sharpening, and I knew I'd be awake soon. I couldn't remember what day of the week it was, but probably something was waiting for me. Jules or school or work. This amazing dream was going to set me back a fair ways.

"Beau?" said a soft voice right beside me.

Before I had time to think it through, my eyes flew open and I turned to stare.

A familiar figure was there, sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning over me with some concern. For a moment, I couldn't think. I couldn't remember any hallucination quite this real, that captured her obscene perfection quite to this level of detail—the way her glittering bronze hair framed her pale face, the perfect shape of her lips, the deep purple bruises that hung beneath her eyes.

I closed my eyes again quickly, before I could fall into the temptation of just laying there, absorbing the vision until I convinced my already addled brain that it was real. The insanity had clearly escalated while I'd been out—which for myself, I didn't mind so much, but it wouldn't be fair to Charlie to have to deal with that. I had to get a grip.

"Beau?"

The angelic voice cut through my concentration again and my head spun. Trying to hold onto sanity or not, I couldn't keep my eyes closed.

The vision was still there, her exquisite features inches from mine, looking anxious.

Very real. Definitely the most real hallucination I'd had. I noticed her eyes were even flat black rather than the liquid gold of my usual fantasies, as though my brain was determined to maintain continuity with the rest of the dream—like it was determined to push me ever further into legitimate craziness.

For a minute, I let myself become utterly absorbed in the vision, simply staring up at her, watching with fascination as her brow furrowed further with anxiety. Maybe it was too late for me, maybe I was already too far gone—I felt a thrill at the thought.

However, I thought of Charlie again, and I forced my mind to work, to wind back through the long, vivid dream and try to figure out the last thing I could be sure had actually happened. There was the medieval castle full of vampires. Before that was the clock tower square, before that the stolen Porsche and unbearably long drive to Volterra. The plane ride to Italy, the phone call, Archie coming because he'd thought I'd drowned...

A shocked breath rushed from my lungs, and it hit me with the force of a wrecking ball—drowning. That was the last thing that I remembered. I'd jumped from the cliff, and I couldn't fight the current...

I stared at the vision Edythe with wide eyes, stunned. Dead—that was it. I was dead. There had been no rescue—I had drowned, and now these realistic visions had been conjured up with what remained of my earthly memories as I transitioned over.

As the realization sunk in, the guilt crashed over me like a bucket of ice water.

I was dead. And for what? A moment of irresponsible fun.

For a second, my head filled with an image of Charlie, standing cold and alone before a gravestone. How was he going to take this? And my mom...I could see her dissolving into hysterics, while Phil stood by, futilely trying to comfort her. And Jules...Jules.

My hands shook as I clenched them into fists. What a jerk I was. After all the danger I had faced, the countless times I had come within an inch of death and been pulled out of it, I'd gone and done it myself.

The vision Edythe—or maybe she was an angel with Edythe's face, here to guide me over, who knew—looked alarmed. In a blur of motion, she had half risen from where she sat, eyes wide, as she took in the sick horror on my face.

"Beau?" she said urgently. "What is it? What's wrong?"

I turned to stare at her, and I was sure my face was white as a sheet. My throat was tight, and I felt burning tears sting my eyes. I was happy to see her, of course, happy I could have this kind of vision before my spirit dissolved and was sucked into the ether, or whatever was going to happen now, but after what I had done, I knew I didn't deserve it.

I knew I had to say it—I had to confirm what I already knew.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" I whispered. My voice shook slightly.

Edythe's expression went from anxious to perplexed.

"No." She sounded too surprised to be gentle. "You are most definitely not. I would know if you were, trust me."

It was my turn to look confused. I slowly sat up, and turned my head for the first time, looking around. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw I was sitting on my own bed in my room. My eyes took in the familiar glowing clock on my nightstand, my desk with the outdated computer, my backpack hanging on my chair. And lastly, my window, which had been left open a crack.

I looked back to the vision Edythe, who had sunk back down to sit on the edge of my bed, though she stayed close. I frowned.

Edythe was studying my face, looking wary, as though I might possibly be rabid.

When I didn't speak, at last she said, "I have no idea what's going through your head right now, Beau Swan, and for once I think I probably don't want to know. Whatever you're thinking, you're not dead."

I stared at her for a moment longer, bewildered, trying to readjust my impression of reality.

"So..." I said slowly. "I'm in a medically induced coma?"

Edythe glared at me, as though I were trying to be funny on purpose. "No, you're not."

"Huh," I said thoughtfully, leaning back against my pillows. I looked around my own, familiar room again. "So..." My brain churned slowly, toward the last and final possibility. But it seemed so ridiculous.

I turned to give the outrageously beautiful phantom sitting next to my bed a suspicious look.

As though she could read my mind, she said fiercely, "You're not dead, Beau."

"I could still be asleep," I suggested. "I might still wake up."

Some of the irritation faded from her features, and she looked oddly sympathetic. "I'm afraid not. I'm sorry to say this isn't a nightmare—not one you'll be able to wake up from, anyway."

She gave a grim smile that was half a grimace. It wasn't her real smile, the one that showed her dimples and had the power to stop traffic, but all the same, I felt my heart sputter slightly.

I realized then it was pointless, trying to pretend to myself this wasn't really happening to keep my mind safe from the possibility of crippling disappointment. If I wasn't dead, then the only other option was that it was a dream—but if it was a dream, it was way too real to be fair to expect me to realize it. Might as well live it up now.

"So," I said casually, settling back. "I'm not dead? Or hallucinating?"

Edythe frowned at me. "No."

I considered. "So, all that happened," I said thoughtfully. "Everything."

"Everything," Edythe confirmed, then hesitated. "That is, we did go to Italy and were nearly executed by strict, totalitarian vampires, if that's what you're remembering."

"Italy," I repeated. "Huh. Wow. I don't think I've been further east than Albuquerque."

I sat forward from the pillows and turned fully to face her again. "What time is it? How long was I out?"

Edythe shrugged. "About one in the morning, local time. So about fourteen hours."

I stretched and rubbed my arms, trying to work out the stiffness. "What about Charlie?" I asked.

"Asleep." She smiled a little again, and she added, "If he was aware I was here now, I think he might be inclined to set the station dogs on me."

This was enough to distract me. "He wasn't rude to you, was he?" I asked anxiously.

Edythe's smile widened. "Oh, not particularly." She added, "Not aloud, anyway." Edythe's tone was amused, but I didn't miss the real pain that flickered in her eyes. Her eyes dropped from mine, and she added softly, "If he was a little curt, I think it might have been more than warranted."

I frowned, wondering exactly what she meant by curt. I hadn't forgotten what Charlie had said to Archie a few days back—it felt like an age ago now—about Edythe, and his reaction at the very thought of her coming back. I would have to have a word with him about that when I got the chance.

I shook my head. "So what's our story?" I wanted to know. "I mean, for why I suddenly disappeared for...how long was it?"

"Three days." She leaned back, sighing again. "Archie called me earlier, and we put our heads together to put together a cover story. But...we didn't come up with anything."

"Great," I muttered. So much for genius vampires. However, I found I didn't really care at the moment. I could face Charlie's fury a whole lot easier than a nest full of bloodthirsty vampires, and even more, Edythe was here. That was all that mattered. Now that I had decided to accept for the time being that this wasn't a vision in the afterlife or a hallucination, the clock was suddenly once again ticking on how much time I had left with Edythe—I couldn't afford to waste a moment of it.

I pushed back the blankets that had been carefully tucked over me and shifted over, turning to put my feet on the floor so I could sit up next her. I reached over and took her hand, gripping it tightly as I met her eyes. It was time to start asking those questions I'd been storing up—and I could fool myself into thinking that, at least as long as I had questions, she would stay.

"So," I said, forcing a smile, "What have you been up to these last few months?"

Edythe's expression turned abruptly wary. "Nothing in particular. Nothing you would find interesting, anyway."

I felt something inside me contract very suddenly at her tone—like she wanted to shut me out. Or maybe this was a hallucination after all, and my subconscious had finally run out of imagination.

Edythe saw the shift in my expression, and her eyes turned worried again. She leaned in, gazing up into my face. "Beau?" she whispered.

I tried to rearrange my expression—Don't waste time, I ordered myself.

"Try me," I said, making my voice light.

Edythe gazed up at me for a moment longer before she sighed. Her eyes flickered away, and she looked uncomfortable.

"Tracking," she admitted at last. "Or, more accurately, trying to track. As it turns out, it's not a particular strength of mine. In fact, you might say I was an abysmal failure."

"Oh," I said, feeling like I was missing something. "Well, that sounds fun. What were you tracking?"

Edythe shifted uncomfortably. When she looked back at me, her eyes were deeply pained, apologetic. When she finally spoke, the words poured out in a rush.

"I'm sorry, Beau. So sorry—I just had no idea. I thought you would be safe here. Completely safe. If I had had the slightest idea that Victor—" Her perfect mouth twisted over the name, as though she had tasted something vile— "would return here, seeking vengeance, I would have acted differently. I didn't see how closely tied Victor was to Joss—he was so certain of her skills, he never once feared for her safety, and that obscured the depth of his feelings."

Edythe bent forward, pressing a delicate hand to the side of her head as though suddenly faint. "But even worse than that—to think your sole protection was a pack of werewolves. Immature, volatile, essentially the most dangerous thing out there other than Victor himself—I feel ill whenever I think of it. I have to be the most wretched, contemptible—"

I put up a hand to stop her, and she broke off. However, her eyes were still deeply pained, haunted. I knew now was the time—I had to set her free. I couldn't keep her bound to me from that impossible sense of responsibility Carine had spoken of, from this misplaced sense of obligation.

"Look," I said, taking a deep breath and summoning up every bit of strength I could find. "Edythe." I felt a shiver down my spine as the name passed my lips. "You can't take responsibility for this—any of this. If I trip in front of a bus or something one day, you can't just go flying off to Italy again. Seriously. Even if I had been trying to take myself out jumping off that cliff, that would have been on me, not you."

I added, as gently as I could, "I mean, think of what you almost did, trying to—to atone for my death. What you almost did to Carine, Earnest, Archie—"

"Beau," Edythe said, cutting me off, staring at me with something like amazement, her lips pressed in a thin, angry line. "Beaufort M. Swan."

I didn't know how to respond to the look she was giving me. I muttered, "I thought you knew how I felt about the Beaufort thing."

Edythe ignored me.

"Beau," she said again. "Do you really think that I went to the Volturi and asked for death because I was—trying to atone?"

I blinked, startled at the intensity in her face. "Um...yes?"

She looked away, muttering what sounded like a curse under her breath.

Then Edythe turned back to me. Her eyes seemed to burn in the darkness and, very slowly, as though trying not to startle me, she raised a hand to my face. Gently, she caressed my cheek with her delicate fingers, and automatically I found myself raising my own hand and cup hers in mine. Her touch set my heart to pounding, even though I knew the memory of it would torture me later when this was over.

Her soft voice held just a hint of exasperation as she said, "Beau, I would have gone to Italy no matter what the case, whether your—your death—" she nearly choked on the word—"was my doing or not. Clearly I should have been more careful, and not been so quick to take Royal's word for it. But I did try to check...and when she said Charlie was at the funeral, I didn't think for a moment that..."

She trailed off, staring off into space. She sighed, then added ruefully, "I suppose I can no longer criticize Romeo, after such a near fatal misunderstanding myself."

I frowned, trying to wrap my head around what she was saying. She still hadn't really explained herself. "Okay," I said slowly. "But why, then? Why does you thinking I'm dead equal going to the Volturi? You're not making any sense."

Edythe leaned very close, until our faces were barely inches apart.

"You're not listening, Beau," she said in her melodic voice, and I felt her breath on my face. Slightly dazed, I didn't answer.

Edythe sat back again, though her hand remained on mine. She ran a finger gently along the back, tracing each bone to my knuckles. "Beau," she said. "Don't you remember anything I said to you before?"

I hesitated. "I remember. I remember everything. Right up to...to the last."

Edythe was smiling, but her eyes were still frustrated. "I told you, when we were watching that movie. And I told you before that, over and over—so many times even I can barely keep track. I told you that I love you, that you're everything to me. That a world without you has no meaning for me."

"Yeah, well," I mumbled. "I remember. But...I mean, that wasn't how it was. You realized that—it wasn't really love."

Edythe stared at me, and though her mouth was still smiling, her eyes were angry. She abruptly stood up from my bed, so fast she was a blur, and suddenly she was standing in front of me arms folded.

"All of us are good liars, Beau," she said suddenly, and her usually velvet voice was bitter, almost harsh. "Living how we live, vampires in a world of humans, we have to be." Her lips twisted. "But I've always had a particular aptitude for it."

I stared back at her, uncomprehending. The only thing that came to mind—was this a confession? Was she going to tell me now that there was never a time she'd considered me seriously? That she'd only told me she misunderstood her own feelings to let me down gently?

I hadn't imagined there was anything that could possibly make this conversation more painful than I knew it would be, but at this thought, something icy and sharp cut through me. My eyes dropped quickly to the bed, but not before I felt what little color remained drain from my face. I felt numb.

"Beau," Edythe snapped. "Look at me right now."

I blinked. My eyes flickered back up before I could stop them, and she was no longer smiling.

She turned away from me and began to pace the room, in rising agitation.

"Of course, I realized you wouldn't let go," she muttered, almost to herself. "The only way I could effectively remove myself from your life was if—if you believed that I didn't actually love you, that it was over, utterly and completely. But how to convince you? I couldn't just come out and say it, you would never believe that, I thought."

As she moved, she reached up to press her fingers to the sides of her temple. "I had to set it up right. I had to be cold, distant for a little while, just to begin to instill in you the hint of doubt. Then I had to have the right words, the right story—something that would explain everything I had done, everything I had said, and cast it in a new light that might just begin to change your mind. Every inflection in my voice, every word I said, I had it calculated to perfection—cruel enough to leave you with no lingering doubts or suspicions, but not so cruel as to be out of character, that would permit you to suspect the truth that I knew to be so glaringly obvious."

Edythe continued to pace, speaking faster now, but still slow enough for me to catch every word. "Those three days I went through every possibility in my mind, everything you might demand, every argument you might level at me that could punch a hole right through the lie. I weaved my story tighter and tighter, going through every single conversation that you might remember, figuring out how I might twist it into something else to fit with what I needed you to believe. I was prepared to argue for hours, until you finally began to waiver, and at last were forced to accept it. And then, after all that, you—"

She spun to face me, and her flawless features were a mingle of anger and agony. "I told you my little story one time, and without any further explanation, without any argument, you just stood there and accepted it. Just like that—after I had already told you the truth a thousand times."

I didn't answer. I didn't think I could find my voice. I could only sit there, staring back at her in dumb surprise.

The anger faded from her face, and she gazed at me with an expression only of anguish now. "I deceived you, Beau, and I repent of that now—I hurt you, trying to save you from what I am, from our dark world, and it was a failure. I will never be able to apologize enough for the harm I've caused. In retrospect, I see it all too clearly now, the futility and folly of my actions. But what I still don't understand is—how. How you could be deceived so easily. I relived that moment—that far too short conversation—a thousand times in my mind, and I still don't understand it."

I stared down at my bed. I was still out of it. This really was probably a dream, I decided. One of those great, fantastical dreams that made you scream when you woke up and realized it wasn't real.

Edythe studied my face carefully, and the deep crease between her brows deepened further. She sucked in a breath, and it shook as she exhaled. "Won't you say something?" she whispered. "Please, Beau."

I shook my head. "I think maybe I shouldn't listen to this anymore. Because when I finally wake up, for a second I'll think this is all real, and then I'll have a breakdown or something. And I think I've put Charlie through enough."

Edythe suddenly grabbed my shoulders and gave me a hard shake. Her glorious face was an inch from mine, her black eyes again full of mingled frustration and despair.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why is it that no matter how many times I say it you won't believe me? Or else you think you're dreaming, or dead—I told you the truth over and over, and I'm telling you now, but one lie—and I know, Beau, it was a horrible lie—but even so, why do you believe that and nothing else? I'm right here, trying to repair the damage I've done, but—it's like I've come up against a wall, and I can't break through."

Her voice caught on the last word, and seeing the excruciating, trapped look in her eyes, I wanted to wrap my arms around her and tell her I believed her, just to ease her suffering.

I shook my head slowly. "The thing is, Edythe..." Once again, the sound of her name in my mouth sent a charge of excitement buzzing through my system, making the tips of my fingers tingle. "The thing about me being kind of like a special pet or something—I can see that. That makes sense. You being in love with me—like you'd run off and kill yourself just because I didn't exist—that doesn't. I mean...look at me."

Edythe's hands were still on my shoulders, and again she leaned close to me, so close her face blocked out the light from the glowing alarm clock behind her. "I am looking at you, Beau," she said softly.

When I didn't reply, she murmured, "Please, Beau. Tell me what it will take to convince you. Tell me what I have to do. How many times I have to say it."

I stared into the perfection that was her face, taking in every detail. I forced myself to look away—how bad was it going to be when this fantasy came to an end? Because it would end, that much I was sure of. I couldn't let myself be completely destroyed, I had to keep my head above water, for Charlie, for Jules—the people who had stuck with me through everything. But I didn't see how I would be able to.

"Okay," I said slowly, trying to keep my head clear. "Let's say—hypothetically—all this is true. You love me. But how long before you leave again?"

"I won't leave," she said swiftly, holding my hand between hers. "I swear, Beau, I won't leave you ever again."

I winced at that, and put up a hand to stop her—before she could hammer any more nails in the coffin of my sanity.

Edythe stared down at me in mixed frustration and confusion. "Now, what's that reaction?" she demanded. However, a moment later she hesitated, and seemed to consider something.

Her eyes dropped briefly, before they rose back up again to meet mine. They were full of pain once again, but now I saw a look of resignation there, too.

"I..." she began slowly, haltingly. "If you've already moved on, Beau—and after everything I've done to you, that would be more than understandable—don't worry. I will only stay as long as you want me to. If you want me to go—I will. The very moment you ask it. Please believe me when I say all I want is for you to be happy."

She hadn't even finished speaking before my hand shot out automatically, my fingers closing around her forearm to hold there. I shook my head. I tried to think how to explain myself, before she could misinterpret any more of my reactions. Though my throat was tight and my voice shook, I forced myself to speak.

"Don't—Don't make me any promises, okay?" I said hoarsely. "Don't. Please, Edythe."

She just didn't get it. If I started hoping, and it all came to nothing—which it would, I was sure—I didn't know how I would make it through after. Hope was a dangerous thing—more dangerous than a room full of vampires by a long shot.

Edythe relaxed slightly, but she looked frustrated again. "You don't believe me when I say I won't leave? You think I'm lying?"

I stared back at her. I tried to drag my eyes away from her face, to remind myself of the true reality behind all these pleasant words, but I couldn't look away. I was fighting it with everything I was, but even so, I could feel it creeping insidiously in—this alien concept, that Edythe did love me after all, that everything she had said back then had just been a lie for my sake. I could feel everything I had known trying to flip inside out.

I shook my head. I had to hold on—before I gave in, and I was destroyed again.

"Maybe you believe it," I said slowly. "For now. But I know you can still change your mind. Any time. If you start thinking it's the right thing to do—say Jessamine has a go at me again—you'll leave, no matter what I say."

Edythe sighed deeply and turned, sinking back down to sit beside me again. She sat there for a long moment, staring straight ahead. "Do you still love me, Beau?" she asked suddenly. "Even after what I did?"

It was a bit of a pointless question in my opinion. If someone's feelings were in doubt in this room, it definitely wasn't mine. But Edythe looked up at me with wide, apprehensive eyes, and I felt compelled to answer.

"You know I do," I said quietly. "I never stopped."

Edythe reached up, gently cradling my face in her hands.

"Then that's all I need to know," she said softly. "As long as that's true, I'll be here. I love you, Beau, and I won't ever leave again, not unless you ask me to. And I will convince you of that truth, day by day, a little bit at a time."

She exhaled, and the scent of her breath made me dizzy. She leaned in close, and I knew what she was planning to do.

I stiffened. My eyes dropped to the floor.

Edythe paused, her glorious features less than an inch from mine. "What?" she said, her brows pulling together. "What now?"

"Well..." I began, eyes still focused hard on the wood-grain. "Well, this will just make it that much worse. When I wake up, I mean."

Edythe's eyes narrowed. "You're not dreaming, Beau," she hissed.

"Okay then," I said. "When you leave again."

Edythe sighed. "You really are impossible," she muttered. Then she added, eyes wide with worry, "But you really do love me?"

My eyes rose back to hers. "I just said I did," I said. I added, voice low with emotion, "And that's never going to change."

Edythe stared back at me for a long moment, then her mouth turned up in a brilliant smile that showed her dimples. "I believe you. Now I just need to make you believe me."

In spite of my resistance, she didn't let go of me, and she suddenly leaned in close, her nose brushing mine. "This is for your own good, Beau," she breathed, and then she pressed her lips to mine.

It was different than most of those times I remembered. Her careful, cool restraint was absent, and though her hands and lips were cold as ever and hard as marble, my skin seemed to burn where she touched me. Her arms were around my neck and she held me to her. I couldn't have fought her if I wanted to—and I didn't want to. I suddenly didn't care if this would make it hurt worse when I woke up, or when she left or however else this fantasy ended—it was worth it. I loved her more than I had ever loved anything, and in this moment, I could feel like she loved me, too.

When she pulled away, I was breathing hard, and I felt her press her head against my chest, her ear against my pounding heart.

"Ah," she sighed, her eyes sliding closed. "Beautiful." She pulled away from me to stare up into my face for a long moment. Then she turned, sitting back with her hands resting in her lap.

"Okay," she said. "Somehow, I think you still don't quite believe me—which, you have no idea how painful that is—but I vow, I will convince you eventually. No matter how long it takes."

Her mouth was spread in that dazzling smile that always made my head spin, and as always, I could only stare at her like an idiot. Yes, things were getting dangerous now. I had to keep my head, or I would lose myself. It was all right for Edythe to believe what she was saying, but I had a shattered life I would have to get back to once the dream was over.

I shook my head, and tried to think of something to say to distract myself.

"Anyway," I said. "These past few months. You never did tell me exactly what you were tracking. New prey?" I found myself picturing big, exotic predators all around the world. Jaguars, tigers, big African lions. I smiled a little at the thought, then added, "What else did you do? You said there were plenty of distractions out there."

Edythe looked slightly exasperated. "Beau, I told you, everything I said before I left was a lie. There was nothing that could distract me from thoughts of you, and I knew there wouldn't be. As soon as we left, I separated myself from the others—I couldn't bear listening to their thoughts—and I went out deep into the wilderness to be alone. There I did absolutely nothing, but exist in a state of both physical and mental paralysis."

Edythe's tone as she spoke about her months of suffering was scathing, derisive, and I could tell she wasn't looking for sympathy. But even so, the thought of Edythe so miserable made me sick. Edythe's description of that time sounded eerily familiar—it sounded a lot like me. It would have been exactly like me, if I hadn't had to keep myself going for my dad. The thought of Edythe experiencing anything remotely like that made my blood run cold.

Edythe continued, "Only when I felt my will begin to weaken—when in the midst of my deepest torment I began entertaining treacherous thoughts of returning, of coming to your window and begging you to take me back—did I take on the notion of trying my hand at tracking. I knew I could never be distracted, but I hoped having an occupation would help me maintain my resolve."

The picture of Edythe, sitting alone in the woods with her head bowed, still as a statue while inner demons ate her from the inside out, lingered in the back of my head, and I had to try to distract myself.

"What were you tracking?" I asked again.

Edythe hesitated. A shadow passed across her features, and she seemed to stare at something I couldn't see. She murmured in a low voice, "I would have done so earlier...should have done so earlier. If I had not been so immobilized with the grief of separation—but eventually it did finally come to me, if there was one thing that I ought to do in my present state of uselessness, it was surely that."

She seemed to be talking more to herself than to me, and I opened my mouth to point out that she still hadn't answered the question. But as I looked into Edythe's face, I froze. Edythe's expression had darkened in a look so feral that for a moment she really didn't look human. Her lips were curled back from her teeth, her onyx eyes burning with hate.

"What?" I whispered, and my voice cracked with the strain.

Edythe's eyes refocused on me, and she seemed to calm slightly, though I noticed the tendons on her wrist stood out as the hand not holding mine clenched at her side.

She said one word, spitting it out like a curse. "Victor."

A chill went down my spine. I remembered all my horrible anxiety when Jules and the others had been out hunting Victor, and for a moment, the imagined images from that time changed to Edythe.

Something icy plunged into my stomach.

Edythe continued dispassionately, "After we took care of Joss, I always had it in my mind that I would also eventually dispense with the mate as well, as soon as I had the opportunity. He helped her, after all, and that could not be forgiven. However, as chasing Victor would have necessarily taken me away from you, I thought for a time that perhaps I might let him go after all, at least so long as he kept away. But now..."

Once again, Edythe's smooth features twisted and her eyes burned with such fury I had to fight a shudder that rippled down my spine. "Now," she breathed, softly, almost gently, "he will die."

I finally came out of my stunned daze, and panic seized me. Before I even thought what I was doing, I reached out and clamped a hand around her arm again, holding her in place. In spite of the frigid cold of her skin, I felt sweat on my palm.

"No," I said, more loudly than I meant to.

Edythe seemed momentarily startled out of her cold anger, and she glanced at me, surprised. "No?" she repeated, looking confused.

I swallowed and shook my head. When I spoke, I tried to keep my voice calm, reasonable. "You said you weren't going to leave," I pointed out. "I don't see a lot of room in that for you suddenly setting off on another extended tracking expedition."

Edythe hesitated. "Well, yes," she admitted. "But—"

I talked over her, cutting her off, "You've been trying to convince me you're staying right here, and now you're already talking about leaving." I tried to look accusing, rather than terrified.

Edythe looked a little stricken by this, and her eyes dropped briefly. "I am staying," she muttered. "But Victor is going to die—and soon."

I couldn't tell for sure if this meant I had won the argument or not. Chills were still shooting up and down my spine, and I couldn't get the image of Edythe facing off against Victor, flaming hair wild, face contorted in a wild snarl, out of my mind.

"Look," I said, once again doing my best to make my tone reasonable. "We don't know if he's even still around. Maybe he's given up and gone back to whatever he was doing. Jules and the rest of the wolves might have run him off for good. I don't think we need to go looking for him—we've got bigger problems."

Edythe's eyes narrowed slightly, and she looked torn. However, she sighed and shook her head. "I won't leave as long as you want me here, Beau," she conceded. She paused, then added, "But you are right, that is another problem. It appears that, in our absence, we've developed something of a wild dog problem."

Edythe's tone was conversational, polite, but I thought I detected just a hint of contempt below the surface as she said the words wild dog.

I shook my head. "No, I meant the Volturi."

Edythe turned to look up at me.

I continued, "They're going to come for me sometime. To make sure I've been changed. What did Sulpicia say? She said we could wait until I graduated, to keep from arousing suspicion. That's coming up faster than you think. If we're going to have everything in order by then, we've got to start making our plans now."

Edythe smiled, without great concern. "I still think the dogs are the bigger problem."

I didn't see how she could be so relaxed. "You heard what Sulpicia said," I insisted. "If they think you aren't following the rules, they could execute us both. In fact, she said she would execute everyone, if they tried to support us."

Edythe eyed me for a moment, and she seemed to be carefully weighing what she was about to say.

"Sulpicia and the other two are thousands of years old," she said finally. "Time means something different to them than it does to you, or even me. They count years the way you count days. You could be thirty before you even cross her mind again."

I stared at her, horrified. "You're going to wait until I'm thirty—" I began, outraged.

"Even longer than that, if I can manage it," she said cheerfully.

I glowered into her smiling face. "You're just saying that," I accused. Sulpicia hadn't struck me as the type to forget promises made to her, no matter how old she was.

Edythe shrugged, still smiling. "Well, it doesn't really matter anyway," she said airily. "I have some ideas on how to evade Sulpicia, if it comes down to that. Archie will see her coming a thousand miles away."

I shook my head slowly, and I felt some of the pain that had receded for the time being flare up again in my chest. I glared at her, though I couldn't quite disguise the hurt. "You really don't want me around forever, do you?" I said quietly.

Edythe glanced back at me, and though she looked concerned again, her expression was set. "Not if it means taking your soul."

I studied her for a long moment, trying to read her. She had told me everything she said before she left was a lie, which would include what she had said about how she would be bored by me if I ever became immortal. However, I couldn't help but wonder—weren't the best lies usually based in truth?

I shook the thought off, for the moment. "I'm going to die eventually," I said at last. "Even if your plans work, and the Volturi don't get me. I'm getting closer every day."

Edythe nodded. "And once we get to that point, I'll follow right after you."

I shook my head. "That is just so...twisted. Sick."

Edythe nodded again, indulgent. "I can accept that you think that."

I stared at her for a long minute, and as I read her expression, it quickly became obvious she was not going to change her mind. Whatever the real reason Edythe didn't want me becoming like her, I realized it didn't matter. There was only one way I was going to have a chance to be with her forever, or have the ability to follow her if she ever did leave again—and that wasn't by staying human.

Sighing, I pushed myself up from the bed. I fumbled in the dark for a minute for my shoes, and when my hand finally hit on one, I quickly yanked them on and set to work doing up the laces.

Edythe blinked, startled. "What are you doing? Where are you going?"

"Your house," I said shortly.

Her eyes narrowed. "And why would you want to go there, may I ask?"

"Well," I said lightly, using my fingers to try to tease my hair into a marginally presentable state, "if you're going to bring the might of the Volturi down on the whole family just for the dumb reason of keeping me human—I think the rest of them should have a say, don't you? I say we put it to a vote."