watched while a shiver ran down her spine. Was she finally scared or was she cold?

"Esme and Carlisle...?" she added quickly.

"Are happy to see me happy. Actually, Esme wouldn't care if you had a third eye and webbed feet. All this time she's been worried about me, afraid that there was something missing from my essential make up, that I was too young when Carlisle change me...She's ecstatic. Every time I touch you, she just about chokes with satisfaction." I finished her sentence.

"Alice seems very...enthusiastic." Bella noted.

Of course she noticed.

"Alice has her own way of looking at things," my lips grew tight at the many visions I had seen in her head since I meet Bella.

She must have read the hesitation in my voice, "And you're not going to explain that, are you?"

I saw myself mirrored in her eyes, watching as each of our expressions changed in unison. She knew I was keeping Alice's visions from her. There were several good reasons why I was keeping these from her. One, I didn't want to scare her, and two, I didn't want her to get any ideas. No, I would still not confess what I have seen through the eyes of a psychic.

"So what was Carlisle telling you before?" she asked, bringing me from my distraction.

She was incredible. She picked up on all the signs that I thought were subtle. Was she really that perceptive or was my fa?ade waning? I could see the wrinkle appear between my brows through the reflection of her deep brown eyes.

"You noticed that, did you?" it wasn't a question, it was a statement.

She shrugged, like there was nothing unusual about the whole situation, "Of course," she murmured.

Better tell her now, I suppose. I monitored her face, I continued to play her song. She seemed complacent enough so I answered, "He wanted to tell me some news - he didn't know if it was something I would share with you."

"Will you?" she responded quickly, eagerly.

"I have to, because I'm going to be a little...over-bearingly protective over the next few days - or weeks - and I wouldn't want you to think I'm naturally a tyrant." I said.

"What's wrong?" she gasped in horror. Her blood started warming and moving at a quicker pace. The monster inside me clawed at my bones, wanting to embrace the temptation. I took in her fragrance, letting it fill my lungs. I easily over-rode any enticement this caused me.

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious," I explained quickly, trying to calm her now rampant pulse.

"Visitors?" she questioned.

"Yes...well, they aren't like us, of course - in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I'm certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they're gone." I watched her face apprehensively.

Her body trembled under stress.

"Finally, a rational response!" I exclaimed, "I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all."

She didn't contest my observation and I was shocked that she would have this reaction to anything dangerous at all. Her blood slowed in her veins bringing her pulse back to its normal speed. She turned her face from mine, her eyes flowing from one end of the house to the other, distracted. I followed her gaze. Was she still looking for something suspect? "Not what you expected is it?" I asked.

"No," she admitted, returning her gaze to me briefly before continuing to soak up the rooms setting.

"No coffins, no piled skills in the corners; I don't even think we have cobwebs...what a disappointment this must be for you," I teased.

She remained serious, "It's so light...so open," she said.

"It's the one place we never have to hide," I explained to her. I also wanted to admit that she was included in this place... I would never have to hide from her.

My fingers were on the piano, automatically playing. The song was finally coming to a close. When it was finished Bella looked at me, "Thank you," she murmured.

I turned in my seat; bringing my whole attention back to her. There was moisture prominent in her eyes. The tears flowed over her eye lids. The aroma emitting from her tears was something I had never smelt before. She wiped the tears from her eyes. I noticed she had missed one. I brought my hand to her face, trapping a tear on my finger. I studied it. As a vampire, we could not produce tears. This was something entirely new. I brought it nonchalantly to my lips, seeing how it would taste. I was curious. It didn't taste disgusting, but it held no significance for me. She was staring at me with curiosity flaming in her eyes.

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?" I asked, distracting her.

"No coffins?" she verified.

"No coffins," I promised, a smile forming on my face.

We walked up the staircase that led to the upstairs where my room was. I watched her carefully as she made her way to the top. She was lightly caressing the stair rail as she went. I was jealous... I wanted it to be me. When we reached the top of the stairs I pointed out rooms as we walked, "Rosalie and Emmett's room...Carlisle's office...Alice's room..."

She froze, turning into a statue. Her eyes grew wide. I followed her gaze until I realized she was staring at the wooden cross at the end of the hallway. I remembered Alice's vision.

"You can laugh," I told her, "It is sort of ironic." I took a deep breath, bringing her fragrance into my lungs again. I was used to the dull ache.

She brought her hand out to touch the cross, but she did not proceed, "It must be very old," she guessed.

I shrugged, "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less." I mused.

She turned to face me, "Why do you keep this here?"

"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father." I explained. I knew I was giving more information away then I had ever told a single soul before.

"He collected antiques?" she suggested doubtfully.

"No. He carved it his himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached." I said.

She looked shocked.

"Are you all right?" I asked, worried about her expressions and silence.

"How old is Carlisle?" she wondered, trying to do the mental math in her head. I watched as her eyes looked fully in thought. I could almost see here calculating the numbers mentally.

"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday," I admitted.

She looked at me, questions burning in her eyes. I knew I would answer them all, if she were to ask. I took in another deep breath while I let her scent assault me.

18. Stories

I was worried that if I were to divulge the information that she would request that she would decide to never grace me with her presence again. I decided this was the best time to release some of our stories. She hadn't run away yet. I knew I would feel relieved once she knew the truth.

"Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he believes. Time wasn't marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though." I began.

I watched her face carefully for any sign of distress. She showed no emotion. I continued, "He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves...and vampires."

Her pulse began picking up at the last word; I continued without pausing, "When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of his raids. At first Carlisle was a disappointment; he was not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exist. But he was persistent, and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true vampires that lived hidden in the sewers of a city, only coming out by night to hunt. In those days, when monsters were not just myths and legends, that was the way many lived.

"The people gathered their pitchforks and torches, of course," I laughed in a non humorous way at the thought of a human bringing harm to a vampire. I continued, "and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged."

I knew I had arrived at the part of the story where I wasn't sure how to proceed. I went on, but kept my voice low, "He must have been ancient, and weak with hunger. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to the others when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran through the streets, and Carlisle - he was twenty-three and very fast - was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature would have easily outrun them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked. He fell on Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third, leaving Carlisle bleeding in the street."

I paused. The images that were in my mind were of the agony that he felt. The pain of the venom breaking through his veins and causing him to burn for days was forefront in my mind. I met Bella's eyes and she was eager for me to continue.

"Carlisle knew what his father would do. The bodies would be burned - anything infected by the monster must be destroyed. Carlisle acted instinctively to save his own life. He crawled away from the alley while the mob followed the fiend and his victim. He hid in a cellar, buried himself with rotting potatoes for three days. It's a miracle he was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered. It was over then, and he realized what he had become."

My eyes had never left Bella's. Most of the color had drained from her face during my story. She didn't know much of the transformation process and I am sure that she was learning some things that she hadn't known before. She was silent and I was worried I had gone too far, "How are you feeling?" I asked.

"I'm fine," she said automatically.

She hadn't convinced me though. In a nervous gesture, she began biting at her lower lip. She looked like she wanted to say something; she was hesitating. Curiosity was burning in her eyes. She was regaining her color and I was becoming frustrated once again at the silence of her knowing mind.

"I expect you have a few more questions for me." I guessed.

"A few."

Of course she did, she was always curious; always interested in things she shouldn't be interested in.

"Come on, then," I smiled, "I'll show you."

We turned around and I brought her back to Carlisle's office.

I'm guessing you want to show her the pictures, Carlisle wondered, "Come in," he invited.

I slowly pushed the door open. Carlisle was sitting behind his desk in his leather chair.

Perfect timing, Carlisle thought, "What can I do for you?" he asked.

Carlisle rose from his seat. He was already aware of what I was up to, but I didn't want Bella to think we were having our normal silent conversations.

"I wanted to show Bella some of our history. Well, your history, actually," I explained to him.

"We didn't mean to disturb you," Bella apologized.

Silly Bella, I thought.

She sure is polite, isn't she? Carlisle smiled, "Not at all," he looked at me, "Where are you going to start?" he asked.

I had many stories in mind and I decided I would start out as simple as Carlisle's story could ever be, "The Waggoner."

I placed my hand on Bella's shoulder. An electric shock rose up my arm and through my body. I knew she felt it too because her heart starting pounding, her pulse racing.

Does that always happen? To deny yourself what you crave most when her pulse rises is truly significant in your relationship. You two are truly meant to be together. Carlisle's thoughts continued more to himself.

I turned Bella to face an oil painting that was on the wall behind her, ignoring Carlisle. I could tell that she was interested again.

"London in the sixteen-fifties," I explained. I knew questions must have been racing through her mind.

Carlisle walked up behind Bella. His continuous flow of thoughts had stopped, "The London of my youth," he added.

Bella must not have realized he was behind her because she recoiled at the sound of his voice. I squeezed her hand.

"Will you tell the story?" I wondered. I didn't want to get anything wrong, or put my foot in my mouth.

I'm sorry. You will have to explain it to her because I must leave for work. Don't worry, you'll do fine. Carlisle thought.

"I would," he turned to Bella, "But I'm actually running a bit late. The hospital called this morning - Dr. Snow is taking a sick day. Besides," his eyes met mine, "you know the stories as well as I do." Carlisle had a wide smile across his face.

Carlisle gave Bella a warm smile and ducked out of the room. I looked at Bella, nervous about this conversation. I was still waiting for the wailing and screaming. A sickening jolt surged through my stomach at the thought of her leaving. Her eyes were fixed on the painting.