by Alicorn
I wasn't close enough to make out Renée's half of the conversation; I jumped lightly from the neighbor's roof onto the ground and darted immediately into a shrub with a good angle to his window, so I could see what Charlie was doing as well as hear. I was wearing long sleeves and dark colors, but that didn't mean nobody could see me if they were looking the wrong way while I wasn't behind cover.
"Anything?" Charlie asked.
"No, she didn't answer the phone today either," Renée said. "What makes you think she was in the fire? She didn't say anything to me about visiting you - did she just not mention it or -"
"It... might have been a surprise visit," Charlie said carefully. "There are friends of the family in La Push she might have stayed with so she could surprise me." He was trying to convince Renée that I was dead without going into the evidence. He'd evidently not looked at the field with the vampire ashes, because he could have seen me in the pit, but even I hadn't known what vampire ashes looked like until I saw them. So the absence of the correct kind of ash in La Push proper wouldn't necessarily have tipped him off. But the sheer destruction, my lack of contact, and the fact that he knew I was up to my neck in the mess with the wolves would have.
"Do you know yet who might have set the fire? Itwas arson, wasn't it?" Renée asked.
"I think so - but the scope of it was - well, the case has gone federal. I'm not supposed to touch it. Even if the feds hadn't taken over, since Bella might have been in it, I might have been considered too close to the case."
"How can our little girl be gone?" asked Renée in a small voice.
"Well, we can't be sure," said Charlie. There was no hope in his voice, he was just trying to calm Renée. "Can't be sure at all. There's nothing recognizeable in the ashes. But..."
"And you haven't been able to get in touch with our son-in-law? Or his family?" asked Renée, and I almost wailed aloud from the stab of loss at hearing Edward mentioned, but I held my tongue.
"He's as impossible to get hold of as she is," Charlie said. "I tried his sister, Alice, I had her number, but there's no answer from her either. I don't know how to call anyone else."
"Bella was pregnant," wailed Renée.
"One second," said Charlie in an unstable voice, and he put my mother on hold and turned away from the phone and brought both fists down on his kitchen table, a scream of rage boiling up from somewhere deep in his chest. He lifted his hands and curled them into fists in his hair, then struck the table again, making noises of frustration and grief. He knew Elspeth had been born already. He'd seen her baby pictures. He knew he was a grandfather. He'd never be able to tell Renée that she was a grandmother already, that she hadn't lost that chance when I'd "died". He had no way to get in touch with his granddaughter. He didn't know if she was alive.
I was a little tempted to show myself. But oddly, Charlie's pain didn't strike me as deeply as it would have a month ago. I didn't like it, but it was safer this way. The impulse to comfort him was shallow. The need to prevent more of my family from dying was deep. My parents had to think I was dead. Everyone did.
Charlie exhausted his need to yell and hit things. He took several deep breaths, picked up the phone again, and said, "Sorry about that."
"You'll call me if you hear anything else, won't you?" Renée said.
"Of course. Of course," said Charlie. "I have to go. Goodbye." He hung up without waiting for her to answer, and stood as still as a human could, swaying faintly and staring into space.
He swore under his breath, got his dinner out of the microwave, and started forcing food down his throat.
I crept out of the shrubbery and disappeared into the woods.
* * *
I had nowhere in particular to be. Nothing in particular to do. I could go anywhere except a few hazardous locations. It was a pity that those were the only places I wanted to be - Denali, where my daughter was. Volterra, where a lot of people I wanted to kill were.
I walked toward Chicago. Edward's birthplace. I didn't bother running - there was no hurry. On sunny days I stayed put in uninhabited areas, to reduce the odds of being noticed as too glittery by some human. I took in a lot of scenery. I ate animals unfortunate enough to cross my path. I happened to pass through a town one evening and notice costumed children wandering door-to-door for candy; thereafter I was aware of the date, irrelevant though it was.
I thought of Edward several times a minute, flipping through every memory I had of him, as though I could fix them more securely in my heart by rehearsing them. I forced more detail out of the fuzzy human recollections than I'd bothered with when I'd first gone through my notes. Every last time he'd touched me. Every single kiss. Every word he'd spoken. Every expression that had crossed his face.
Elspeth occupied my thoughts, too, but I did less remembering and more speculating: what would Rosalie feed her today? Where would Carlisle take her on her one-month "birthday"? Did she talk yet or was her witchcraft slowing her down? What was her voice like, when she uttered words? Did Emmett toss her into the air to make her laugh? What would Esme see now, if she watched her dream? Did she get along with Tanya and Kate and Carmen and Eleazar and David? Was Irina still there, or had she broken off from the coven? Which house was she living in, which room held my baby when she slept...?
I needed money to get my ring repaired and to replace the chain of my locket and repair the bracelet. It was also limiting my movement that I didn't have any shoes; I didn't need them for comfort, but their absence did attract attention. That made the shoes a more urgent problem than the ring. The lack of hair - new growth just barely fuzzing back into existence - was already more oddness that would be ideal; I was glad for Sue's scarf.
It was November. Anyone would remark on my lack of shoes. I found a five dollar bill on the ground in a town in Idaho that I passed through, and used it to buy cheap boots from a thrift store.
A week later, I stopped at a random, medium-sized town in Montana, on a snowy afternoon. I knocked on a few doors in a suburb, offering to shovel driveways and sidewalks. I looked seventeen; it was a plausible occupation, requiring no ID, as long as I didn't knock when I "should have been in school". One old lady worried over my lack of a coat. I told her I didn't need one, that I'd keep warm doing the shoveling, but she insisted that I take her granddaughter's old parka, and I did, not wanting to argue or get more attention over my unseasonable attire. I shoveled snow until it got dark and people stopped answering their doors, accumulating just under a hundred dollars in the process.
At the very end of November, I got to Chicago. I didn't know exactly where in the city Edward had grown up. I walked up and down every street, half-expecting one block to feel different, likehim, but it was all just unfamiliar urban landscape. Eventually I'd covered everything that could reasonably be called "Chicago". No place felt unusual.
I shoveled more snow. I didn't visit any home twice. I picked a jeweler's when I'd saved up enough money. They replaced the chain, and were able to slightly improve the bracelet. The ring wasn't as good as new when they finished with it, but at least it was wearable. I had both of my rings back, the rings he'd given me. My hand felt better.
I walked to Florida. As I went south, I had to be more careful about when I was in public - there was more sun - but I got there eventually. I was in Jacksonville by Christmas.
I went to my mother's address, in the middle of the night, but there was no car in the driveway and I couldn't hear anyone breathing inside. They were probably visiting Phil's family for the holiday, or maybe some of my extended relations. That was good. She should be with family.
Renée had e-mailed me all the information I'd need to get into the Jacksonville house when she'd moved there. "Just in case," she'd written. I took the spare key out from under the flowerpot, let myself in, disarmed the security system, and wandered around in the dark.
Renée had a desktop computer and hadn't brought it along on her Christmas vacation. I knew the password to her e-mail - it was "Isabella!!",
always had been, she wasn't security-conscious at all and didn't care if I could see her messages anyway. Especially now that she thought I was dead. I logged in and looked at all her correspondence with Charlie over the last couple months. Apparently Carlisle hadeventually gotten in touch with Charlie. That was good; that meant that Carlisle was okay. The Volturi hadn't killed everyone I'd ever associated with out of spite. Renée didn't get the real story, naturally. But she'd been thoroughly convinced that I was dead. Apparently they'd held a funeral for me in Forks, and Renée and Phil had gone, but no Cullens had attended. Charlie thought it was disgraceful that they hadn't shown up. I couldn't blame them, though.
I wondered if they'd had a funeral for Edward.
I shut down the computer, turned the alarm back on, locked the door behind me, put the key away, and walked north.
* * *
I had no other locations I wanted to visit at all. I wandered completely aimlessly. I hunted when I was thirsty, and just like Edward had said I would, I got neater over time. I shoveled driveways when I needed money to replace my clothes, and to save extra cash in case I couldn't think of any replacement work for warmer months. Mowing lawns would do on cloudy days, but unlike snow, grass wasn't persistently accompanied by cloud cover.
I remembered Edward and wondered about Elspeth.
It occurred to me in mid-January that I didn't really know what Elspeth might be doing. She might not be in Denali anymore. Carlisle was unharmed by the Volturi, or he wouldn't have been able to contact Charlie. They could probably move around freely. Maybe they were living in one of their own houses by now. I'd only seen Norway, Québec, and Forks, but there were more. I knew where they were. I supposed I'd need to steer clear of those towns. They could buy a new house, but I was unlikely to stumble on it.
I walked up the east coast. There was a Cullen house in Maine, but it was in Farmington, not close to the ocean; I felt safe enough wandering along the beach. I ate a number of killer whales. Edward had shared the first orca I'd ever eaten.
I walked into Canada. It was easier to cross the border unnoticed on foot than in a car, or rather, it was easier to do it without Edward looking out for me and pulling strings to make the border agents ignore me. I crossed Québec without getting too near the house there.
I was in Winnipeg when I noticed I was drifting very definitely northwest. The direction of Alaska.
I was cold all the time. My shield, hugging me day and night without pause, was not comforting; it was just a reminder that I was alive while Edward was not. I wanted my warm child. A reminder that he'd left something behind.
But I couldn't have her. I shouldn't let myself even get close to Denali, not when it could put her in danger even if she wasn't there. I turned south and took a meandering route towards Dallas.
I got to Dallas in late March. I was starting to be able to think about things other than my dead husband and lost daughter for more than a few seconds at a time. I went into libraries and bookstores when I passed them, flipped through and memorized random books and newspapers and magazines. I people-watched. I window-shopped, and gingerly doled out the cash I'd saved from shoveling snow - I acquired a nice, durable backpack and slowly filled it with spare clothes, and a canteen to fill with water. I agreed to take photos for strangers. I visited landmarks and eavesdropped on conversations and wished Edward was with me.
I allowed myself four hours per day of dwelling on him and our child, and other than that, I just traveled and tried to be alive. Like Edward would have wanted.
I was passing through Tennessee when I found Jasper.
* * *
Chapter 29: Things Left Behind
I was wandering through the vicinity of Nashville, taking an uninhabited route to avoid being seen in the sun. I was starting to get a little thirsty, and my necklace and rings were on my locket chain, where they were less likely to be damaged by the one-sided fight between me and a coyote if I happened across one. When I went over a shallow rise, I saw him, clearly a vampire, from a few hundred feet away.
It took me longer than it should have to recognize him. He was alone, for one thing; no Alice. His outfit was nothing like the style that had been typical of Jasper before. When he was facing away from me, the hair was enough to make him look Jasperlike in spite of that - it was a little shaggier than I'd last seen, but the right color and type. But when he turned around, having heard my approach, his eyes were red.
Figuring I'd been mistaken, and this vampire merely resembled Jasper, I stepped forward. I would have needed to run from Jasper before being recognized, lest he get in touch with the family and let them know I was alive. A stranger, on the other hand, I could interact with in relative safety. I hadn't encountered another nomad in all my wandering, but imagined it was customary for me to find out what this vampire's territory was so I could keep out of it or arrange to peaceably pass through.
By the time I was close enough to see the web of scars on his face, and understand that it wasn't just some doppelganger, it was too late: he'd had the chance to see through my new hairdo.
"Bella," I heard him growl.
"No," I lied, and then I turned to run. I had a head start and I retraced the steps I'd taken, so I wouldn't be caught off guard by strange terrain. It took him almost twenty minutes to catch me. But catch me he did.
He took my arm off, easily, still the consummate handler of newborns. Holding it hostage, he sprang back. "Bella," he said again, keeping out of my reach as I lunged for my limb and hissed at the pain.
"Give it back." I looked him in the eye - what had he and Alice been doing? What would have possessed them to return to eating humans?
Where was she?
"No," he drawled, voice full of his native Southern accent. "I could use some news from home and you don't seem so inclined to give it."
"I don't have any. Give me my arm." I looked at the limb, trying to use vision instead of confused kinesthetic sensation to make it attack him; it just flailed wildly. I couldn't even tell if I was really controlling it or if it was just twitching on its own.
"You're looking rather well," he said. His tone was somehow harsh and languid at the same time. "The cancer patient look suits you."
I launched myself at him, trying to grab my arm away. I actually managed it, through some fluke or just the power I could still put behind a leap, and I took off one of his hands off in the process. I ran again once I was clear, licking the severed edge of my arm so it would seal properly and attaching it back to my shoulder. I flung Jasper's hand away, hoping to distract him, and kept running.
From what I could hear, he wasn't even going after his hand. He was just chasing me. "Bella, dear sister," he called. "It's only me, Alice isn't here to stop me now." What was wrong with him?
Where was Alice?
I asked him that: "Where is she?" I yelled, over my shoulder.
That stopped him in his tracks. "You don't know?" he asked, barely loudly enough for me to hear over the wind in my ears.
I stopped too, and looked over my shoulder. "No," I said.
"She's dead, Bella," he said, sounding so lost that it was like he wasn't a powerful, leonine fighter missing a hand and covered in proof of his ability to take me apart. "Alice is dead."
The news hit me harder than I would have guessed. Alice. My sister, my friend - dead. Little, happy Alice, dancing wherever she went - dead. Just like Edward.
"How?" I asked.
Jasper started to lope towards me. "Volturi," he said, the lonely timbre receding from his voice as he returned to whatever mania had possessed him before I'd asked about her. "Had one of Nahuel's sisters with them to block her vision, and a witch I've never seen before who works like Jane." He sounded comfortable and casual by the time the sentence was over, in spite of the fact that there was no pleasant way he could have learned that the witch was similar to Jane. Something was definitely wrong with him. Some defense mechanism against dealing with Alice's death, spiraling out of control to make him
unstable.
"And Alice?" I whispered, backing away from him. That was two new, powerful witches with the Volturi, Addy and whoever Jasper had seen. Maybe the sister of Nahuel's they'd recruited was the witch one too. Maybe this embarrassment of riches was why they'd been willing to kill my Edward, and Alice, who they'd wanted so badly.
The pain flashed back onto his face, but he controlled it again - or it disappeared of its own accord. "Alec knocked me over, deprived me of all the usual senses, but that doesn't cut the empathy," he murmured. "That works just fine... well, not on you, dear sister... but otherwise just fine... and I felt... Alice... die." Except for the pauses, he could have been discussing any neutral subject, commenting on my scarf or something.
I kept backing up; he kept moving forward. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to what had to be an awful pain in his wrist, where his hand should have been. "Why are your eyes red?" I whispered.
"Because I've been eating people, dear sister." He practically purred.
But that was obvious, that he'd been eating people, didn't he understand why I'd ask...? "But why? Alice -"
"Don't say her name!" he roared, suddenly all violence and fury. "You have no right to say her name. It's your fault. They had no excuse until you stepped out of line, dear sister, they had no way to separate us from the group to make the attack feasible until you forced us to scatter,dear sister, you have no right -"
"Okay!" I cried, and he calmed again, all the rage drained out of him like someone had tipped him over and poured it out.
"To answer your question," he said conversationally, "I was originally able to stop eating people in the first place because, wouldn't you know it, they don't really like to be eaten. They tend to have strong feelings about it... not pleasant ones... Well, when I knew there was something else to be done, I was all too willing to try to leave that behind, although of course it was difficult. Dear. Sister. But now I find meals a pleasant respite."