For all the company, though, Tanya and her sisters were still alone in one way. Still in mourning. Because a very long time ago, they’d had a mother, too.
I could imagine the hole that loss would leave, even after a thousand years; I tried to visualize the Cullen family without their creator, their center, and their guide—their father, Carlisle. I couldn’t see it.
Carlisle had explained Tanya’s history during one of the many nights I’d stayed late at the Cullens’ home, learning as much as I could, preparing as much as was possible for the future I’d chosen. Tanya’s mother’s story was one among many, a cautionary tale illustrating just one of the rules I would need to be aware of when I joined the immortal world. Only one rule, actually—one law that broke down into a thousand different facets: Keep the secret.
Keeping the secret meant a lot of things—living inconspicuously like the Cullens, moving on before humans could suspect they weren’t aging. Or keeping clear of humans altogether—except at mealtime—the way nomads like James and Victoria had lived; the way Jasper’s friends, Peter and Charlotte, still lived. It meant keeping control of whatever new vampires you created, like Jasper had done when he’d lived with Maria. Like Victoria had failed to do with her newborns.
And it meant not creating some things in the first place, because some creations were uncontrollable.
“I don’t know Tanya’s mother’s name,” Carlisle had admitted, his golden eyes, almost the exact shade of his fair hair, sad with remembering Tanya’s pain. “They never speak of her if they can avoid it, never think of her willingly.
“The woman who created Tanya, Kate, and Irina—who loved them, I believe—lived many years before I was born, during a time of plague in our world, the plague of the immortal children.
“What they were thinking, those ancient ones, I can’t begin to understand. They created vampires out of humans who were barely more than infants.”
I’d had to swallow back the bile that rose in my throat as I’d pictured what he was describing.
“They were very beautiful,” Carlisle had explained quickly, seeing my reaction. “So endearing, so enchanting, you can’t imagine. You had but to be near them to love them; it was an automatic thing.
“However, they could not be taught. They were frozen at whatever level of development they’d achieved before being bitten. Adorable two-year-olds with dimples and lisps that could destroy half a village in one of their tantrums. If they hungered, they fed, and no words of warning could restrain them. Humans saw them, stories circulated, fear spread like fire in dry brush. . . .
“Tanya’s mother created such a child. As with the other ancients, I cannot fathom her reasons.” He’d taken a deep, steadying breath. “The Volturi became involved, of course.”
I’d flinched as I always did at that name, but of course the legion of Italian vampires—royalty in their own estimation—was central to this story. There couldn’t be a law if there was no punishment; there couldn’t be a punishment if there was no one to deliver it. The ancients Aro, Caius, and Marcus ruled the Volturi forces; I’d only met them once, but in that brief encounter, it seemed to me that Aro, with his powerful mind-reading gift—one touch, and he knew every thought a mind had ever held—was the true leader.
“The Volturi studied the immortal children, at home in Volterra and all around the world. Caius decided the young ones were incapable of protecting our secret. And so they had to be destroyed.
“I told you they were loveable. Well, covens fought to the last man—were utterly decimated—to protect them. The carnage was not as widespread as the southern wars on this continent, but more devastating in its own way. Long-established covens, old traditions, friends… Much was lost. In the end, the practice was completely eliminated. The immortal children became unmentionable, a taboo.
“When I lived with the Volturi, I met two immortal children, so I know firsthand the appeal they had. Aro studied the little ones for many years after the catastrophe they’d caused was over. You know his inquisitive disposition; he was hopeful that they could be tamed. But in the end, the decision was unanimous: the immortal children could not be allowed to exist.”
I’d all but forgotten the Denali sisters’ mother when the story returned to her.
“It is unclear precisely what happened with Tanya’s mother,” Carlisle had said. “Tanya, Kate, and Irina were entirely oblivious until the day the Volturi came for them, their mother and her illegal creation already their prisoners. It was ignorance that saved Tanya’s and her sisters’ lives. Aro touched them and saw their total innocence, so they were not punished with their mother.
“None of them had ever seen the boy before, or dreamed of his existence, until the day they watched him burn in their mother’s arms. I can only guess that their mother had kept her secret to protect them from this exact outcome. But why had she created him in the first place? Who was he, and what had he meant to her that would cause her to cross this most uncrossable of lines? Tanya and the others never received an answer to any of these questions. But they could not doubt their mother’s guilt, and I don’t think they’ve ever truly forgiven her.
“Even with Aro’s perfect assurance that Tanya, Kate, and Irina were innocent, Caius wanted them to burn. Guilty by association. They were lucky that Aro felt like being merciful that day. Tanya and her sisters were pardoned, but left with unhealing hearts and a very healthy respect for the law. . . .”
I’m not sure where exactly the memory turned into a dream. One moment it seemed that I was listening to Carlisle in my memory, looking at his face, and then a moment later I was looking at a gray, barren field and smelling the thick scent of burning incense in the air. I was not alone there.
The huddle of figures in the center of the field, all shrouded in ashy cloaks, should have terrified me—they could only be Volturi, and I was, against what they’d decreed at our last meeting, still human. But I knew, as I sometimes did in dreams, that I was invisible to them.
Scattered all around me were smoking heaps. I recognized the sweetness in the air and did not examine the mounds too closely. I had no desire to see the faces of the vampires they had executed, half afraid that I might recognize someone in the smoldering pyres.
The Volturi soldiers stood in a circle around something or someone, and I heard their whispery voices raised in agitation. I edged closer to the cloaks, compelled by the dream to see whatever thing or person they were examining with such intensity. Creeping carefully between two of the tall hissing shrouds, I finally saw the object of their debate, raised up on a little hillock above them.
He was beautiful, adorable, just as Carlisle had described. The boy was a toddler still, maybe two years of age. Light brown curls framed his cherubic face with its round cheeks and full lips. And he was trembling, his eyes closed as if he was too frightened to watch death coming closer every second.
I was struck with such a powerful need to save the lovely, terrified child that the Volturi, despite all their devastating menace, no longer mattered to me. I shoved past them, not caring if they realized my presence. Breaking free of them altogether, I sprinted toward the boy.
Only to stagger to a halt as I got a clear view of the hillock that he sat upon. It was not earth and rock, but a pile of human bodies, drained and lifeless. Too late not to see these faces. I knew them all—Angela, Ben, Jessica, Mike.… And directly beneath the adorable boy were the bodies of my father and my mother.
The child opened his bright, bloodred eyes.
3. BIG DAY
My own eyes flew open.
I lay shivering and gasping in my warm bed for several minutes, trying to break free of the dream. The sky outside my window turned gray and then pale pink while I waited for my heart to slow.
When I was fully back to the reality of my messy, familiar room, I was a little annoyed with myself. What a dream to have the night before my wedding! That’s what I got for obsessing over disturbing stories in the middle of the night.
Eager to shake off the nightmare, I got dressed and headed down to the kitchen long before I needed to. First I cleaned the already tidy rooms, and then when Charlie was up I made him pancakes. I was much too keyed up to have any interest in eating breakfast myself—I sat bouncing in my seat while he ate.
“You’re picking up Mr. Weber at three o’clock,” I reminded him.
“I don’t have that much to do today besides bring the minister, Bells. I’m not likely to forget my only job.” Charlie had taken the entire day off for the wedding, and he was definitely at loose ends. Now and then, his eyes flickered furtively to the closet under the stairs, where he kept his fishing gear.
“That’s not your only job. You also have to be dressed and presentable.”
He scowled into his cereal bowl and muttered the words “monkey suit” under his breath.
There was a brisk tapping on the front door.
“You think you have it bad,” I said, grimacing as I rose. “Alice will be working on me all day long.”
Charlie nodded thoughtfully, conceding that he did have the lesser ordeal. I ducked in to kiss the top of his head as I passed—he blushed and harrumphed—and then continued on to get the door for my best girlfriend and soon-to-be sister.
Alice’s short black hair was not in its usual spiky do—it was smoothed into sleek pin curls around her pixie face, which wore a contrastingly businesslike expression. She dragged me from the house with barely a “Hey, Charlie” called over her shoulder.
Alice appraised me as I got into her Porsche.
“Oh, hell, look at your eyes!” She tsked in reproach. “What did you do? Stay up all night?”
“Almost.”
She glowered. “I’ve only allotted so much time to make you stunning, Bella—you might have taken better care of my raw material.”
“No one expects me to be stunning. I think the bigger problem is that I might fall asleep during the ceremony and not be able to say ‘I do’ at the right part, and then Edward will make his escape.”
She laughed. “I’ll throw my bouquet at you when it gets close.”
“Thanks.”
“At least you’ll have plenty of time to sleep on the plane tomorrow.”
I raised one eyebrow. Tomorrow, I mused. If we were heading out tonight after the reception, and we would still be on a plane tomorrow… well, we weren’t going to Boise, Idaho. Edward hadn’t dropped a single hint. I wasn’t too stressed about the mystery, but it was strange not knowing where I would be sleeping tomorrow night. Or hopefully not sleeping . . .
Alice realized that she’d given something away, and she frowned.
“You’re all packed and ready,” she said to distract me.
It worked. “Alice, I wish you would let me pack my own things!”
“It would have given too much away.”
“And denied you an opportunity to shop.”
“You’ll be my sister officially in ten short hours… it’s about time to get over this aversion to new clothes.”
I glowered groggily out the windshield until we were almost to the house.
“Is he back yet?” I asked.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be there before the music starts. But you don’t get to see him, no matter when he gets back. We’re doing this the traditional way.”
I snorted. “Traditional!”
“Okay, aside from the bride and groom.”
“You know he’s already peeked.”
“Oh no—that’s why I’m the only one who’s seen you in the dress. I’ve been very careful to not think about it when he’s around.”
“Well,” I said as we turned into the drive, “I see you got to reuse your graduation decorations.” Three miles of drive were once again wrapped in hundreds of thousands of twinkle lights. This time, she’d added white satin bows.
“Waste not, want not. Enjoy this, because you don’t get to see the inside decorations until it’s time.” She pulled into the cavernous garage north of the main house; Emmett’s big Jeep was still gone.
“Since when is the bride not allowed to see the decorations?” I protested.
“Since she put me in charge. I want you to get the full impact coming down the stairs.”
She clapped her hand over my eyes before she let me inside the kitchen. I was immediately assailed by the scent.
“What is that?” I wondered as she guided me into the house.
“Is it too much?” Alice’s voice was abruptly worried. “You’re the first human in here; I hope I got it right.”
“It smells wonderful!” I assured her—almost intoxicating, but not at all overwhelming, the balance of the different fragrances was subtle and flawless. “Orange blossoms… lilac… and something else—am I right?”
“Very good, Bella. You only missed the freesia and the roses.”
She didn’t uncover my eyes until we were in her oversized bathroom. I stared at the long counter, covered in all the paraphernalia of a beauty salon, and began to feel my sleepless night.
“Is this really necessary? I’m going to look plain next to him no matter what.”
She pushed me down into a low pink chair. “No one will dare to call you plain when I’m through with you.”
“Only because they’re afraid you’ll suck their blood,” I muttered. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes, hoping I’d be able to nap through it. I did drift in and out a little bit while she masked, buffed, and polished every surface of my body.
It was after lunchtime when Rosalie glided past the bathroom door in a shimmery silver gown with her golden hair piled up in a soft crown on top of her head. She was so beautiful it made me want to cry. What was even the point of dressing up with Rosalie around?
“They’re back,” Rosalie said, and immediately my childish fit of despair passed. Edward was home.
“Keep him out of here!”
“He won’t cross you today,” Rosalie reassured her. “He values his life too much. Esme’s got them finishing things up out back. Do you want some help? I could do her hair.”
My jaw fell open. I floundered around in my head, trying to remember how to close it.
I had never been Rosalie’s favorite person in the world. Then, making things even more strained between us, she was personally offended by the choice I was making now. Though she had her impossible beauty, her loving family, and her soul mate in Emmett, she would have traded it all to be human. And here I was, callously throwing away everything she wanted in life like it was garbage. It didn’t exactly warm her to me.
“Sure,” Alice said easily. “You can start braiding. I want it intricate. The veil goes here, underneath.” Her hands started combing through my hair, hefting it, twisting it, illustrating in detail what she wanted. When she was done, Rosalie’s hands replaced hers, shaping my hair with a feather-light touch. Alice moved back to my face.
Once Rosalie received Alice’s commendation on my hair, she was sent off to retrieve my dress and then to locate Jasper, who had been dispatched to pick up my mother and her husband, Phil, from their hotel. Downstairs, I could faintly hear the door opening and closing over and over. Voices began to float up to us.
Alice made me stand so that she could ease the dress over my hair and makeup. My knees shook so badly as she fastened the long line of pearl buttons up my back that the satin quivered in little wavelets down to the floor.
“Deep breaths, Bella,” Alice said. “And try to lower your heart rate. You’re going to sweat off your new face.”
I gave her the best sarcastic expression I could manage. “I’ll get right on that.”
“I have to get dressed now. Can you hold yourself together for two minutes?”
“Um… maybe?”
She rolled her eyes and darted out the door.
I concentrated on my breathing, counting each movement of my lungs, and stared at the patterns that the bathroom light made on the shiny fabric of my skirt. I was afraid to look in the mirror—afraid the imag
e of myself in the wedding dress would send me over the edge into a full-scale panic attack.
Alice was back before I had taken two hundred breaths, in a dress that flowed down her slender body like a silvery waterfall.
“Alice—wow.”
“It’s nothing. No one will be looking at me today. Not while you’re in the room.”
“Har har.”
“Now, are you in control of yourself, or do I have to bring Jasper up here?”
“They’re back? Is my mom here?”
“She just walked in the door. She’s on her way up.”
Renée had flown in two days ago, and I’d spent every minute I could with her—every minute that I could pry her away from Esme and the decorations, in other words. As far as I could tell, she was having more fun with this than a kid locked inside Disneyland overnight. In a way, I felt almost as cheated as Charlie. All that wasted terror over her reaction . . .
“Oh, Bella!” she squealed now, gushing before she was all the way through the door. “Oh, honey, you’re so beautiful! Oh, I’m going to cry! Alice, you’re amazing! You and Esme should go into business as wedding planners. Where did you find this dress? It’s gorgeous! So graceful, so elegant. Bella, you look like you just stepped out of an Austen movie.” My mother’s voice sounded a little distance away, and everything in the room was slightly blurry. “Such a creative idea, designing the theme around Bella’s ring. So romantic! To think it’s been in Edward’s family since the eighteen hundreds!”
Alice and I exchanged a brief conspiratorial look. My mom was off on the dress style by more than a hundred years. The wedding wasn’t actually centered around the ring, but around Edward himself.
There was a loud, gruff throat-clearing in the doorway.
“Renée, Esme said it’s time you got settled down there,” Charlie said.
“Well, Charlie, don’t you look dashing!” Renée said in a tone that was almost shocked. That might have explained the crustiness of Charlie’s answer.
The Twilight Saga Collection Page 133