Chapter Four

Sitting around in bed was getting me nowhere. Before the woman came back, I tried standing on my own again, only to collapse back onto the mattress. I caught myself that time.

Esme brought me a piping hot bowl of chicken noodle soup, which she boasted was handmade. I wasn’t aware vampires even knew how to cook. Did she flip on the Food Network and they happened to have a special on soup? They didn’t eat human food, so why would they need to cook?

My stomach flipped at the first whiff of the meal. It smelled amazing but I wasn’t willing to keep putting my luck on the line; so far it failed to keep me safe, I couldn’t imagine what it would mean if I ate this vampire’s food. But even if I got out, when would I next eat? I had to show up at Rainier which was probably a few days away. I would starve to death before then.

I glared at the deep bowl sitting beside the bed. Go away, I don’t need you—as if I could communicate with it. It was taunting me! I could imagine the chicken chunks splashing in the broth, giggling as they throw herbs at each other.

Oh my god, I was fantasizing about chunks of chicken meat playing. Maybe I really needed to eat. No, no, I had to focus on getting out of this house.

From what I could see the house was surrounded by trees. That was no surprise; vampires avoided crowded places to prevent drawing attention. Wish that went for vampires in Washington, too. Portland was a highly populated area so they had to be somewhere outside the city, but it couldn’t be too far because then the vamp couldn’t get to his job as humanly as possible. I sighed and slouched on the bed. Where was a computer when I needed one? Planning always went smoothly with technology.

There was a knock on the door. I jumped enough to make the bed shake, nearly spilling the soup beside it. “Bella, may I come in?” It was the doctor again.

I gathered my wits and steeled my nerves. He was probably coming to insult me again. Well he could try; I was a strong girl, and I wasn’t giving up. I would throw back anything he had to say, retrieve my gun, and be on my way before they killed me.

“It’s your house,” I called. Knocking gave the illusion of privacy but they heard every shift I made, so why waste the effort? “What do you want now?”

He entered the room, closing the door behind him. The calm smile was disarming and I fought to keep up my glare. “Relax. I came to check on you; it was a little too quiet up here.”

“I could have been sleeping.”

“Why didn’t you fake it? If you were sleeping I would have left you alone.”

“What good would that do me? You can hear my heart beating. I wouldn’t have a steady breathing pattern.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?” He shook his head. “Washington must be worse than I thought.”

“You’re one of them,” I barked. “Why do you care so much about what happens to humans?”

He went to the chair by the window again and stared out the glass. “You might have noticed something different about my family. The vampires you know have red eyes due to the human blood they drink. We have golden eyes, we drink animal blood. My family and I have adapted to a . . . vegetarian lifestyle, if you will. We don’t drink human blood.”

Vegetarian lifestyle? Was he kidding? Sure, I noticed his eye color—who wouldn’t?—but no vampire could resist human blood. It’s what fueled them, what all vampires lived for. There was no way animals placated them!

I laughed. This was too rich! A vegetarian vampire!

“How stupid do you think I am?” I gasped. “There’s no such thing as a vegetarian vampire. You need blood to survive, you can’t resist the call.”

He glanced at me, his eyes liquid sunlight with his anger, but returned his eyes to the glass. “What do you know about blood lust?”

I glared at him. “I know that it causes a lot of ‘accidents’ in the field. A small cut can set off a whole legion.”

He lost the pleasant façade to show something between anger, sadness, and disbelief. It disappeared quickly, replaced by calculation.

Did he realize he was an open book?

“How old are you, Bella?” he asked.

The question was unexpected but I didn’t let it show; I answered, immediately hating where this conversation was going. “Old enough to—”

“Honestly.”

I hesitated, biting my bottom lip. He was fishing for information, for what reason I didn’t know, and that was dangerous. Was there any harm telling a vampire my age? Perhaps he was wondering if my blood was too old for him. Did I want to tell him? “Eighteen.”

“Younger than I thought. How long have you lived in Washington?”

“You mean how long have I been fighting? I don’t know. I lived with my mom for a long time; I only met my dad once before moving here. I was seven; he taught me how to shoot a gun.”

“At seven years old?”

“Kids younger than that are learning now.”

“I suppose that’s true. So you fought since you were seven?”

“No. I didn’t move to Forks until a few years later. Mom had found a new boyfriend, she wanted to travel with him, and I didn’t. But Dad didn’t want me because of what was going on.”

“They were in power before you were born, correct?”

“I guess.”

He shook his head sadly. “It’s terrible you grew up in such a place. Did you know all vampires were ordered to reveal themselves? The group that controls Washington demanded that vampires around the world come out of hiding and rise up, take what is supposedly ours. I didn’t agree with them. I told them the world belongs to humans, that we forfeited our control when we were turned.”

“And they didn’t agree with you.”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “They firmly believe that vampires are superior and humans are nothing more than food.”

“Preaching to the choir,” I muttered, rolling my eyes, leaning against the headboard.

“I’m sorry. You grew up with that mindset.”

“No, I grew up with the mindset that vampires are abominations that need to die. Their existing is immoral.”

He sat up straighter, pulled his attention away from the outside to look at me, and I noticed a distinct glint in his eye. I was a step away from a landmine and I didn’t know where to go to avoid it.

“Immoral, you say? Why? Because we’re damned creatures, that our humanity was lost long ago? I certainly don’t see it that way. I didn’t make the choice to step into this life, it was an accident, but I never condemned the one who did it. Yes, I may not be fully human anymore, but I still have my humanity, my soul—humans can see it, they are more relaxed around me because of it. Just because I’m not human means I cannot live on this earth? Why, if that’s the case, you should hurry and destroy all the animals; they aren’t human, after all.”

The mine exploded in my face.

He smiled with triumph as my mouth gaped. I was frantically looking for something to say but only drew blanks. I hated to admit it but he made a good point. Who was I to say what could and could not live? But . . . the vampires in Washington deserved to die—they made us slaves! I fisted my hands in the blanket. The silence stretched on.

“Your soup is getting cold,” he said, sounding all too smug.

I glared at him, wishing I had the strength to punch the stupid smile off his face. “You don’t have a soul.”

“You can’t say that for sure. How am I alive?”

“You’re dead! When the body dies, the soul leaves. You only exist!”

“How am I alive?” he repeated.

“You’re not! Its black magic, voodoo—I don’t know, but you are not alive!”

He shrugged and stood up, coming towards me. I pressed my back harder against the headboard the closer he came, ignoring the pain, wishing it would swallow me. The look in his eyes had me worried. His patience was a lot shorter than he claimed; he was ready to kill me. He sat near the foot of the bed and I pulled my legs to my chest. He would have to move his whole body if he wanted to attack me now, he couldn’t drag me by my legs, and if I was lucky I would see it coming. Or maybe, because of my condition, I didn’t want to see it.

“Until you have experienced this life, you have no idea what you’re talking about. You may think you have it all figured out but unless you see the world through our eyes, experience the overwhelming emotions we face, you cannot judge,” he said quietly. He stood and grabbed the steamy bowl, holding it out to me. “Now please, eat. You need your strength.”

I gingerly accepted the bowl and watched him leave quickly. The first mouthful was delicious, the second was even better, and by the time I finished the whole bowl I realized something was wrong.

First, I just ate the best meal of my life—and it was soup made by a vampire. Second, I had a conversation with a vampire, Carlisle Cullen, and I didn’t kill him during or after. I actually almost . . . respected him.