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*~Part 1: Carlisle~*Chapter 1: Beginnings

December 5, 1778

Boston, Massachusetts colony

I remember being born. I remember seeing my mother's eyes for the first and last

time. I remember my father murdering her in front of my newborn eyes. I remembercrying in fear when he held me in his cold arms. I remember being abandoned in asnowy forest that very day of my birth.

No one bothered to grant me a name, so I named myself.

I am a hybrid: a one in a million chance of human/vampire procreation. My birth

occurred on the 5th day of December, the year 1778, in an English colony called

Massachusetts. The War for Independence between Britain and her New Worldcolonies had just began there.

To my knowledge, my mother was an 18-year-old girl from Boston, who, in anattempt to flee the chaos that the fighting provoked, was raped by a passing

vampire. In all the frenzy of the War, no one seemed to notice that the girl had gonemissing during my time in her womb.

I don't know why my father allowed my mother to give birth; this has always been amystery to me.

As if fighting for dominance over my immortal half, my human hormones gave me agreat burst of growth in my early life. Resulting, I aged much faster than human

children did. The midwife who'd taken me in told me I had a terrible illness, andraised me with care and compassion for this very reason. However, there was amassive outbreak of smallpox in my hometown during that time, and my newmother soon took ill and perished.

I lost my humanity in the year 1785, when I had reached human maturity at the age

of seven. Vampire venom flooded my system, changing me into what I truly am. The

pain stayed for hours perhaps a full day, though the memory is not clear to me.Idoknow that I found refuge in a grass clearing in the forest, near dusk on a coolSeptember evening. But the weather didn't matter to me then; the fire was all-pervasive.

I have been told, since that time, that the experience was equivalent to whathumans undergo during the transformation into a vampire. You see, I favor myfather. When I stopped ageing, my body began producing vampire venom. Human

blood still flows through my veins, but the venom also sustains my life. It is asthough life and death were crammed into one body.

My heartbeat slowed immensely that day. The venom made me incredibly strong even stronger than pure-blood vampires. I had so much energy, I felt the need tosleep only once a week. My scenes where heightened, like my strength. Due to my


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slowed heartbeat, my skin was slightly cooler than a human's, but not as stone coldas vampires. My skin was only half as solid as a vampire's, and shimmered faintly in

the sunlight. Also, my speed was not as great favoring my mother.

As I said, life and death in one body.

I suppose I had fallen asleep sometime during the night on that September evening,after the pain stopped, for it was daybreak by the time I awoke. The bright light on

my eyelids caused me to open them. What I beheld was something I'd neverexperienced before Colors and lights danced before my new eyes, blinding me withtheir intense spectrum; hundreds of thousands of sounds buzzed in my ears, andfragrances assaulted my nose.

What's happened to me?

As far as I knew at the time, I'd been completely normal. Other than my rapid

growth, I was otherwise completely human. I had yet to encounter any sort ofsupernatural at that point, so this experience was strange and new to me.

Nevertheless, I stood slowly to inspect the new abilities of my body. I heard theheartbeats and breathing of animals in the woods distinctly a few squirrels, a herdof deer, and many different birds. I took a deep breath, startled by the hundreds ofscents around me fresh grass, honeyed lilacs, spicy oaks

However, one scent stood out to me in particular. I followed my nose and discovered

it was a small red fox, pawing at the ground. My instincts told me to drink. Withoutthought, I pounced, snapped its neck, and licked at the red liquid that dripped from

the fresh wound. It tasted sweet and refreshing, and it filled every one of my sensesuntil I could take no more. I pulled away once I'd satisfied myself, and stood overthe corpse.

Suddenly, I came back to myself. I gasped and stepped away from the broken bodyand blood stained grass. I felt nauseous I stumbled back to the clearing, disgusted

with myself.No, no, no.I raked my memory for guidance, and came up with a singleevent.

It was soon after my birth. My father yanked me away from my mother and I lookedback, crying, to see his head near her neck. She screamed as the color drained fromher face.

I closed my eyes and violently shook my head to clear the grotesque image.

"Why?" I gasped. Even my voice sounded strange and different. I felt a tear slidedown my cheek and I fell to my knees. "Why!" I yelled, and my strange voice echoedthrough the trees.

Looking at my hands, I gasped when I saw them stained red. I then found that the

front of my dress had been dyed crimson with the fox's blood that I'd spilt. Tearsbuilding, I ran toward the sound of water, which happened to be a small brook. Once

my clothes were as clean as they could be, I drank some water to clear my mouth of


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the taste of blood. It was delectable and tempting, but also sickening to me. I lookedinto the gently rippling water and saw my reflection.

My face had changed as well. My small cheekbones were more defined than before,and my pink lips were darker. My dainty chin was sharper, and my nose didn't

appear too small for my face anymore. My skin was pale, as though I had been very

ill. The only thing that stayed the same was my dark gold hair, waist-length andwavy. Then, I saw my eyes.

My eyes?The hazel irises suddenly changed... around the pupils, gold poured intothem like liquid topaz, tiny specks forming immediately. I looked closer inamazement, my brow furrowing in confusion.

Before I could ponder my changed eye color any longer, my sensitive smelling picked

up a strange scent. As I followed it, I hoped I wouldn't attack anything again. The

scent took me back to the clearing where I had laid in misery for all those days. Istopped just inside the trees and observed three figures looming about in the bright

grass. Sun reflected off their pale skin like glass, sending rays of light glimmering

throughout the clearing. A gasp escaped me, and three pairs of red eyes flashedaround to me. My instincts screamed for me to flee as those eyes faded to abottomless black.

They ran over to me in unison, faster than anything I'd ever seen before.

"Wh-What are you?" I managed, stumbling back in fear.

They circled me menacingly, as if I were an animal. I swallowed dryly and looked

from each sinister one to the other. The tall one snarled and hissed, and the twoothers crouched as if to attack me.

I let instinct guide me as I braced my feet against the ground, and I surprised myselfwhen a hiss ripped through my throat. Then, suddenly, the tall one sprang at me.Immediately, I put my hands over my head and screamed. But instead of feeling an

impact, I felt a cool tingle in the palm of my hand, and heard a whooshing soundthen what sounded like a rock hitting the ground.

When I looked up, I saw a light mist in front and above me, then, slowly, as I gazedabout myself, it formed all around me. The man who had attacked me was now onthe ground, looking rather confused. The two others slowly approached the mist. I

put my hands down and crouched for attack or defense. As I did so, the mistdisappeared and the two men stumbled forward as if they had been leaning on it?

Then, the third sprang at me, knocking me down easily and pinning me to theground. I found I was very much stronger than he was, so I shoved him off, feet

across the grass. I jumped to my feet, but the other two grabbed me by the arms

and held me so I couldn't escape. I jerked my arms and screamed, but they justglared with their black eyes. The third came back, standing closely in front of me andinhaling. His scent was sweet and spicy, and he towered above my small stature.


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He breathed a single word in a strange language, then curled one chilly hand aroundthe back of my neck. His breath was cool on my face as he leaned down, as if to kiss

me

Suddenly, I heard hurried feet trample the forest floor and several heartbeats

approaching. The man jumped back and sniffed the air, scowling. A wolf howled. The

other two stepped away from me as panic flashed in their eyes. They ran. I smelt theair too; the scent was cherry wood and earth. Very strange, if not pleasant. I

stumbled back from the remaining man, and looked curiously in every direction.

What horrible thing could possibly make them run like that? Should I be scared too?

The vampire then grabbed me and held me firmly by the shoulders. I struggled and

yelled for him to stop, but he probably wouldn't have stopped, even if he understood

me. Growls and snarls lashed out behind me, and the man was suddenly rippedaway from me by a brown bear? I struggled to stay standing, and looked around tosee where the man had been taken off to. I gasped when I found that it was not abear but

"A-A wolf?" My voice spoke the truth, but even my eyes wouldn't believe it. The

large no,giantbrown wolf clamped its jaws around the man's shoulder, and ahorrible screech filled my ears as it took off the man's arm and half his torso in onemotion. I held the sides of my head it felt as though it would explode. A darkerbrown wolf appeared as well, its teeth barred as it growled ferociously. I covered myeyes and whimpered.

As the tears, growls, and screams continued, I felt the terror and horror build upinside me, threatening to conquer me. I sunk to the ground and covered my head

with my arms, clenching my teeth together and squeezing my eyes shut. Please,stop! Stop!

Then, quiet.

New voices spoke to me with words I couldn't understand, and I whimpered again asthe presence grew closer.

It's over as soon as it began,my mind screamed,I'm going to die now!


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Chapter 2: Nature

1785

Somewhere in New England

A warm hand nudged my shoulder.

"Go away!" I shouted shakily, my voice quivering as I curled in on myself further.

"I mean no harm."

Finally, something I understood. I relaxed a tiny bit, and cracked an eye to see theman who stood over me. His brown eyes looked at me worriedly, and his brow

furrowed. I slowly came out of my ball, and scotched away from the man, using myhands. His skin was much darker than I was used to, and he wore no shirt or shoes,which I had never before seen on a man. He scared me greatly.

Even my own voice startled me, "Who who are you?" I held my knees tightly to mychest and stared up at him. He sat down slowly, crossing his legs on the grass.

"My name is Lakota," he said, and a strange accent was strung in his words. "What isyours?"

I swallowed thickly, not too inclined to be friendly. "C-C-Cornelia."

Suddenly, another man appeared from the trees. He had a similar appearance toLakota, but had longer black hair and wore a frayed shirt of some kind. He wasn't as

tall and imposing, either. He began speaking in a foreign language, and I felt myselfbecoming afraid again. I had heard of Indians before, but no good things. They were

enemies,savages. Who knew what they wanted with me?Lakota put out his hand to silence his companion, not taking his eyes from me."Where do you come from, Cornelia?" he asked, simply continuing our exchange.

"Uh um," I stuttered, my entire body quivering with nerves. I wasn't much theconversationalist. "I-I hail from Boston, but" I paused, relaxing slightly under hisfriendly gaze. "Can you tell me what's happening to me?" I asked him, my voicetrembling.

He smiled, beckoning to the other man. "I must tell you a story"

He went on to explain about the world I'd stumbled across. Theywere destined toalways be inherent enemies, and they had been since before time. I listened, withmuch difficulty, as he told me that he was a "guardian," a "protector" of humankind.

He was a werewolf.

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Something began that day which took me several years to understand. I call it the"vampire magnet." The mixture of my human blood and vampire venom in my body

created a pheromone-type effect, which attracted vampires. Once a vampire caughtwind of my scent, they became crazed, feral consumed by uncontrollable bloodlust.Which, as you may imagine, made it very hard to survive.

However, this allowed me to become a natural friend to the werewolves of the NativeNorth Americans. They protected me fromthem yet, what did I do for them? Thisquestion haunted me with every death on my account.

My blood wasn't the only unique thing about me. The vampire gene I inherited from

my father gave me a special ability. I have the power create any sized barrier, whichappears in the form of a haze, or mist. They are impenetrable, indestructible shields.

I've never been able to create a shield without the use of my hands to trace where itwould go, which is the only limit to my gift. It's is a strictly physical power, thoughthere is an element of intellectual will.

Years passed, and I stayed with Lakota's tribe for one decade. I leaned that he was

the leader of a "pack" of werewolves, and the other man, Quee, was his second-in-command. They taught me the art of combat, so I could help them fight and

defend.Somany vampires came in those first few years, and other young warriors ofthe tribe changed into werewolves. I couldn't stand all the trouble I caused them -fighting, death, war.

I remember the very last thing Lakota said to me. He had made me a gift - a partinggift of sorts - and, as he gave it to me, he said, "Survive, Cornelia; that's all thatmatters." It was a foot-long dagger made of unpolished silver, with a carving of abaying wolf on the hilt.

And, with that, I moved on. Not soon after, I was being so savagely hunted by

vampires, I was forced to find haven with another tribe of werewolves. I found thatnot all Native Americans inherited the wolf gene, and it was very uncommon that I

found a pack of werewolves. So, I simply tried to avoidthemas best possible. I wasconstantly on the run; I hated this weary existence, but the vampires never failed to

come. Sometimes one or two, or sometimes a whole group, what they called a"coven."

Soon, in the course of human events, the British got fed up with American freedom

and decided to come start the War of 1812. After a year of the bloody conflict, Idecided to travel West. Having never been out of New England, I was quite excited.In my excitement, I accidentally ran all the way to the Pacific Ocean.

The ocean air was crisp and clear, surprisingly warm for the late month. I sighed andlooked out over the peaceful waters. The sun set in the west, casting it's shimmeringlight over the waves. I don't know how long I stood there, over the ocean, becausemy mind wandered far away.

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

"What is your name?" the woman asked, staring sternly over the half-moon rim of

her spectacles. A line was perpetually between her eyebrows, and her lips were


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curled in a frown. However, my mother had told me to listen to everything she saidor else.

"Um"

Truthfully, I didn't know my name. Did I have a name? Martha, my mother, called

me "Pigeon." But that is the name of a foul, is it not? Joshua, the boy who liveddown the road, called me "Girl." That is my gender, right? So, what was my name,truly?

The only sound in the one-room schoolhouse was the chipper crackling of the furnacein the corner, which Teacher had kindled far before we students had arrived. Martha

had sent me here to this tiny establishment of learning because she had too, inaccordance with the Ole' Deluder Satan Act.

Even though it was mid-winter and our young nation was fighting for independencefrom the Motherland, the children of rural Boston were required to learn how to read.Martha had already taught me from her copy of King James's Holy Bible, but again,

she had felt the need to send me here. The girls sat in the five rows of seats to theleft, and the boys sat on the right. We were arranged by age: youngest to oldest,front to back. We each had our Hornbooks set on the desks in front of us, with ourABC's and our Lord's Prayers printed and mounted on the wooden faces. My copy of

theNew England Primmerwas fairly new used before me only eight times since Iwas a new arrival.

However, none of this was of any note to me. Teacher had realized her lack ofknowledge of my name when she'd handed me a paper and told me to read it. I

guessed she hadn't noticed me slip into her classroom at the beginning of the lesson.I couldn't very well say that my name was "Pigeon Girl."

"Girl? Your name?" Teacher pressed impatiently.

The bigger girl in the seat behind me, who had already told Teacher that her name

was Elizabeth, giggled. The smaller girl in front of me, who appeared around fouryears of age, looked back at me with big, brown eyes. The boys across the aislewhispered to each other.

Thinking quickly, I looked down at the parchment perched in my small hands. It

appeared to be a list of births in America for that year, listed alphabetically. "CorneliaLott Green" caught my eye because it was the longest.

"Greene," I quoth.

There was chortling from the boys side, and several older girls gasped. The girl in

front of me flinchedwhen Teacher wrapped her knuckles with her meter stick,andshe whirled back around in her seat.

"Dear child," Teacher said icily. "That is most definitely your surname. I only wish foryour first. What do they call you?"


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I forced myself to look that scary woman right in those cold, blue eyes of hers, andstood as tall as my 2-year-old body could possibly stand. "Cornelia," I said.

"My name is Cornelia."

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

Sometime later, I heard a werewolf transform into human form about a mile away. Ididn't turn; I was tired of introducing myself. Fast steps pounded the ground untilthey came close, and slowed.

"You have human blood," a deep voice said from behind.

It wasn't a question.

I nodded anyway and turned around to see a nearly seven-foot-tall Indian, who

smiled brightly. I couldn't help but smile too, as a nice cloud of reassurance cameover me at merely his presence.

"I am Titus Black of the Quileute tribe."

I took his outreached hand in a good shake. His clothing was that of a chief."Cornelia." He might have made me smile, but I was in no mood to talk.

"We have peace with the Colds Ones in this area."

My eyebrows when together in confusion.

"Golden eyes," he added, motioning to his own.

That did nothing to enlighten me on the matter of "peaceful vampires", but I nodded

anyway.They won't be very peaceful soon."Where am I?" I asked suddenly."This is Oregon Country," he replied brightly. I'd certainly heard of it; many pioneers

from the East had come there long ago. "Quileute land lies farnorth of here. You arewelcome." He then motioned to the south. "The white settlement of Hoquiam verynear, southeast."

"Thank you," I said, turning back to the sea. The sun was merely a shrinking halo oflight as it dove into the sea. The man gazed with me for a few minutes.

"We will be watching."

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, then heard him phase as he ran into the nearbywoods. Going north; going home.

My heart squeezed.I have no home.


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Chapter 3: The Storm and the Stranger

October 21st1813, SunsetHoquiam, Oregon Country

The light faded from the sky as I made my way south. Human scents became closerwith each step I took. I hadn't walked among humans for many years, and I fearedhow I may fare. Another thing that was worrying me was the "peaceful vampires"

that the chef had spoken of. Did the Quileutes have some armistice with them? Didthey allow them to hunt of their land?

That would be dreadful.

I felt a drop of rain on the back of my hand just as I saw the first buildings of atown. From half a mile away, I read the sign clearly: "Hoquiam Tack and Bridle." Thedark clouds in the sky made the sunset much darker than ordinary, and I saw no

humans outside of their homes as I walked into town. Few lights shone through the

buildings of shops and residences, and I looked up at the high steeple of a church asI passed.

I soon walked out of the other end of town. I wasn't used to such a small society ofhumans, having lived in cities like Boston and Charlestown, but I guessed that that

was how humans functioned in the West.Or it's because the Quileutes let them alldie.I shuttered as the rain became heavier, and it soon doused me thoroughly.Halfway back to the main road, I was shivering and wet. The rain splashed in the

muddy street as I walked by the church again. My worn leather lace-ups were filled

with water, making squishing sounds with each step I took. My purple dress of manydays was soaked and torn, and now had a distinctly brown appearance. My long hair

had half-fallen out of its braid, and was plastered to my forehead and cheeks.

A cold wind had picked up with the rain, and it bit and stung at every exposed inch

of my skin. The pine trees around town groaned with the harsh breeze, and offered

little shelter from the abusive weather.Why have I come here in the first place?Imistook my tears for rain. Thunder clapped in the near distance.

Suddenly, I spied a figure walking along the opposite side of the street, very far

away. I found it odd that anyone would be out during such weather. The figure'shead was bowed under a large, black umbrella, and I recognized the shape of a tallman. Then, a scent penetrated the rain, and my back went rigid.

The man was a vampire, and he was walking in my direction.

Before I could act, the man looked up, as though first noticing me as well. Raindrops

blurred my vision, so I put up a hand to shield my eyes. What I saw was not what Iexpected.

He wore a formal black suit with a white shirt and a loose black necktie underneath,

and carried a black leather bag at his side. This attire gave him a very human


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appearance, and it startled me. We stared at each other, unmoving, until I wasforced to blink.

Then, not breaking my gaze, the stranger stepped forward. I stepped backnaturally. His brow furrowed as though he was deciphering something.

He stepped forward again, this time a bit more cautiously, and slowly crossed thestreet. He raised his voice against the howling wind, and I heard every pitch of hismusical speech, "Hello?"

I thought it was strange that an Englishman be so far from his home, but that wasn'twhat worried me. The man had astonished me by closing the distance between uscompletely, and sharing his oversized umbrella.

I was paralyzed from either the cold or from fright. Granted, my feet had become

quite sunken in mud as I had stood there, but that was not an appropriate excuse for

my action. Istayed. I stayed and stared up at that six-foot vampire like a small childstaring at Saint Nickolas. I was about to become a warm meal for him, yet I stayed.

His expression turned to that of concern when I didn't speak. "Are you well, Miss?"

That's when I noticed it. Maybe I had been looking at his mouth before, or perhapsat his fair blond hair. But the moment I saw his eyes, I almost tripped in the mud

when I stepped back in shock. "Y-Y-Your eyes!" I exclaimed, pointing between hisnose.

He looked more surprised than I. His mouth opened to say something, and thenclosed. He frowned down at me as I gaped up at him. "Forgive me," he said, ignoringmy accusation. "I am Carlisle Cullen."

He held out his hand, and my eyes darted from it to his face. He'll kill me forsure.Instead of taking his hand, I took another step back. "Er, Cornelia," I said.He put his hand down after a moment. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."He spoke louder than the rain that thudded on the umbrella and the wind that blewmy shirts. "May I ask what keeps you so in the rain, Miss Cornelia?"

I shook my head. I didn't want him to know any vulnerabilities. Like how I didn't

know where to run if he

"Well, I suggest you get indoors before you catch cold."

I balked.Why is he worried about myhealth?I felt compelled to put his concern atease, so I spoke. "Thank you, but I never take ill." Even though my life was atimminent risk, I didn't forget my manners.

He looked perplexed, as though I had told him I ate tree fungus for dinner. His browfurrowed once again, and he shifted his feet. "Might I at least offer you some shelterfor this evening? This weather is good for nothing."


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He's trying to lure me away from human sight. He'll kill me with no witnesses."No,Mister Cullen. I must decline."

He nodded, as though he'd expected the answer. "Allow me to point the way to thenearest inn." He motioned to the building next to "Hoquiam Tack and Bridle." I sawfaint candlelight in the downstairs, and several windows indicated a spacious second

level. "I must encourage you to seek rest there."

He confused me now he was sending me away. I would gladly run. "Th-Thank you!I-It was a pleasure," I stammered, stepping away.

I felt the man's eyes on my back as I sped off in the direction he pointed out. I brokeinto a run when I reached the main street. I was free.

The sign above the door said "The Featherbed." I pushed open the thick woodendoor, and was grateful for the rush of warm air that greeted me. I closed the doorbehind myself quietly and quickly took in my surroundings.

A human sat behind a low counter at the far side of the room, with his chin resting inhis hand. He looked middle-aged, unshaven, and half asleep. There was a large,open space to the right of the counter with several tables and chairs. A fireplace

crackled from the corner. To the left was a small stairway to the second level. I then

heard a soft snore, and realized that the manwassleeping, with his eyes half open.The floorboards creaked as I made my way to the human at the counter.

I cleared my throat, but he didn't stir. "Um excuse me?"

The man made a coughing sound in his throat, and opened his eyes fully. He acted

as though he had been awake all the time, and I got the impression that he practicedthe trick often. "Ahem, yes, can I help you?" His voice was gruff from sleep.

"Er, uh, yes. I'd like an overnight room," I said.

The man smelt foul; he had either rolled in a pig sty or ate rotten potatoes. Hegrunted some incoherent reply and motioned to the staircase. The only words Icaught were "twenty cents."

I bit the inside of my lip. I had forgotten about money. "Um, oh. I-I don't haveenough," I stuttered.

The man shrugged, and leaned forward on the desk. His rancid breath was likesmelling burnt garlic. "No fare, no room."

My spirit dropped. I had usually been able to convince people to give me what I

wanted, but this man was downright uncivilized. Yet, I had to try. "Sir," I began,

"please. I can work off the charge tomorrow, sir I-I can cook and clean, and I'veeven !"

His bloodshot, brown eyes were more aware than they had been all night. He leanedforward again. "I-could get my-boss for you if you'd-like-maybe he'd work


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something-out for-you-love." His words slurred together, and I now recognized thescent on his breath. Alcohol.

I nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, yes, please do."

And then he hobbled around the counter, and entered a doorway I hadn't noticed

under the stairs.

I stayed where I was the entire ten minutes he was gone, during which I heard him

open the string bottle he had on his ankle and take a drink. Then, I heard him knockloudly on a door, and another human stood and answered it.

"Yes?" It was a man's voice, undeterred by sleep.

"Mister Wells sir there's a girl here, and she cannot pay"

"Peace, Martin. I'll see her."

"Yes, sir of course, sir"

The smelly man didn't come back out, but the new man did. He had a kind face, wellshaven and clean for a change. He had deep blue eyes and thick black hair, and hehad to duck through the doorway to enter the room. He appeared several years

younger than the other man. He was surprised when he saw me, and he appeared

concerned as he walked over. "Miss," he said, holding out a hand, "I am CalebWells."

I didn't feel keen to shake his hand, so I simply brushed my fingers with his. "C-Cornelia."

"Martin tells me that you cannot meet the fee for the night," he said, somewhatsympathetically.

"Please, sir. I just seek shelter from the storm and I am fully willing to work for the

fee. Perhaps in the kitchen, or in "

"Miss, I haven't the mind to make a slave of you" He laughed heartily, and Iblinked. "We shall speak of compensation in the morning. Now, let's see" Hewalked behind the counter and dug around in the shelf under it.

"Oh my," I said, wringing my fingers. "I couldn't possibly accept"

He stopped suddenly, and looked at me closely. "You haven't been here long. Whereis your family? Your parents?"

His perception startled me. I wasn't usually associated with my apparent age, but

this man was more observant than the others. "Well, I I've come from Boston tostay with my my uncle."


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This response seemed to relieve him. "Sorry to intrude, Miss Cornelia, but youseemed very young to be offering yourself for work."

I could only nod and smile, somewhat sheepishly. He returned the smile. Then, hefound what he was looking for and motioned to the stairs. "Let me show you to your

room."

I followed him up the stairs and into a long hallway of doors. "I cannot thank youenough, sir."

"Worry not," Mister Wells said. Then, after a moment, he stopped in front of the lastdoor on the right and faced me. "Would I be familiar with your uncle?" he askedsuddenly. "It is a small town and I know most everyone."

I froze. I hadn't expected him to be so curious.People in the West must be verydifferent from the East.I tried to imagine something that wouldn't sound ludicrous.Obviously the shrewd man would see through any pale lies. My mind flashed to the

tawny-eyed man on the street. "Er Carlisle Cullen?" I resisted the urge to clap my

hand over my loose tongue.What have I done?His eyebrows nearly met his dark hairline. "Thedoctor?" Then, as if catching himselffrom rudeness, "I wasn't aware that Doctor Cullen had any family." He lookedtroubled.

"Yes well, yes, he is my mother's brother, who passed away. I'm not surprised thathe doesn't favor speaking of it." My lie was unfolding so naturally so harmfully.

"Oh, I see. Forgive me for inquiring after it," he apologized.

"Think nothing of it. My mother died long ago."Very long ago

"I bid you goodnight, then, Miss." He held out a key for me to take, and bowed.

I took the key, and said goodnight.

After I'd heard Mister Wells' footsteps return to the room under the stairs, I put thekey in the lockbox of the door and turned. I closed the door behind myself quicklyand turned the lock again. The room was small, but very comfortable. A red glowing

fire burnt low in the hearth, and a candle flickered upon the table to the right. A

small bed was shoved into the left corner, and had several quilts upon it. Beside thebed on the left wall was a small wooden wardrobe, which was empty. Two apples,half a loaf of bread, a pitcher of water, and three cups sat on the table.

I immediately sprang for the food and tore a piece off the bread. I had hunted elkthe previous day, but my travels had thoroughly exhausted me. After finishing the

bread and half of the water, I took off my shoes and set them by the hearth to dry. Ilaid my dress out to dry as well, and sat by the fire until my underclothes were only

damp on my skin. I set my only possession, Lakota's silver dagger, on a shelf in the

wardrobe. I wrapped myself in many warm blankets, laid on the soft mattress, andfell into a very deep sleep.


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Chapter 4: Hoquiam

October 22nd1813, 7:11amHoquiam, Oregon Country

The sun woke me. I hadn't noticed the window over the bed before, and now thedark sky had brightened with sunshine. Grey clouds were still out; it looked asthough it had rained all night.

I turned onto my back stiffly. I hadn't slept long enough, because I didn't feelcomfortable in the strange place. Finally rising ten minutes later, I finished most of

the water in the pitcher and ate one of the apples. I shivered in the cold morning air;the fire had gone out during the night. My dress and shoes were dry, and I used therest of the water to rinse my face after I'd gotten dressed.

I heard voices from downstairs when I stepped out into the hallway. As I cautiously

descended, I saw two other guests had been up already, and were enjoying a meal

at one of the tables. A new face was behind the counter, and the young lady smiledbroadly when she saw me.

"Good morning! Mister Wells told me that you had arrived last evening."

I smiled. "Yes, just last evening."

She walked over to me and took one of my hands in hers. "Oh, dear! You're chilled

through! Let me get you something warm to drink," she said, pulling me over to theclosest table.

I sat on the wooden chair, entertained by her hospitality. Her round cheeks were

flushed and her blue eyes were bright. She wore a simple brown dress with a fadedbrown apron, and half of her dark brown hair was covered with a dark blue cloth. Hersubtle beauty and stout figure were charming. "W-Why, thank you."

"Not at all, dear, not at all! Serving is what I like best." Producing a bowl frombehind the counter, she rushed to the fireplace in the corner, and filled the bowl with

some hot liquid from a pot that hung there. She then set the steaming bowl on theplate in front of me, and I noticed a spoon a fork off to the side.

It appeared as though my white lie from the previous night had spread to other ears.

"You're too kind. Thank you so much." I looked up at the woman gratefully.

"You're very welcome, dear. I'm Martha, by the way. Martha Brown."

I then understood why I had taken to the woman so quickly. The woman who had"adopted" me in after I was born; the woman who taught me the meaning of life her name had been Martha, and she'd had blue eyes. The Boston smallpox in 1780

had separated us forever. I swallowed thickly. "My name's Cornelia," I said toMartha.


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"Good to meet you, Miss Cornelia." She was distracted by another guest arrivingdownstairs. Enjoy your meal!"

I took the spoon from the table and dipped it in the bowl. I blew the steam off theliquid and put it too my lips. It was chicken broth.

"You're a new face around here, aren't you?"

I looked up at the person who had spoken. The two men at the table across from

mine were looking at me curiously. The elder man with grey hair had spoken. "Um,yes. I just arrived last evening."

"So they tell me," the man remarked.

I felt embarrassed that they already knew so much about me. Alieabout me,granted, but something nonetheless. "Do you live here in Hoquiam, sir?" I asked,wanting to level the conversation.

"Naw," he drawled. "I'm a fisherman up in Port Angelis. The name's George. I'm intown for s'pplies."

"I'm Cornelia," I said, tipping my head in greeting.

"This here's Jonathan, my accomplice." The old man laughed roughly and smackedthe other man on the shoulder.

The second man nodded to me; he was younger than George but they looked similar

in appearance. "It's a pleasure, Miss. Don't let my brother scare you away." Hesmiled good-naturedly.

George tore off into another fit of laughter.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "I haven't heard of Port Angelis is it north of here?"

Jonathan spoke for his brother this time. "It's just a small fishing village; I'm notsurprised you haven't heard of it."

I nodded in acknowledgement and took another sip of my broth. The guest thatMartha had greeted walked by to sit at the farthest table by the fire. It was a young

man in a black robe.

"Mornin', Father," George said, grinning. It was disrespectful to address a cleric insuch a manner, but I simply explained it as another strange thing people in the Westdid.

"Good morning to you, Mister George. I trust your evening was peaceful?" His voicewas monotone, and he only glanced up long enough to nod.

"As peaceful as a church on Sund'y night," he said factually, and then startedlaughing away.


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The Father's face was stoic.

I finished my broth quickly; the young man made me nervous.

"Miss Brown?" I caught her on my way out.

She stood from her work behind the counter and smiled. "Please just Martha."

"Martha," I amended. "Do you know when I may speak with Mister Wells?" I hadalready determined that he was not in the building.

"He's gone to the next town for something, but I'm sure he'll be back by nightfall,Miss."

I nodded. "Thank you."

The morning was crisp and damp. The thin cloud cover overhead shielded the world

from the sunbeams of light. Few townspeople walked the streets, and a horse-pulled

wagon was pulled up to the building across the street. The words "Hoquiam GeneralStore" was written on the front, and a large window showed its variety ofmerchandise inside. Men were unloading supplies from the wagon and carrying them

inside.

The devastation of the storm could be seen everywhere branches and leaves werescattered throughout town. Several men were helping clear a large limb off thechurch lawn as I walked by.

As I walked, I thought what I could do with myself there.It now seems awfully sillyof me to be here.I had come on a whim, and a whim can only take you so far. Then,it struck me. I didn't have to work for Mister Wells to pay my debt; I could find

employmentanywherein town.I briskly jogged back to the General Store.

There was a tall woman in a purple dress speaking to the merchant behind thecounter when I entered. Most the merchandise was stacked in the ceiling-to-floorshelves behind the counter, and whatever wasn't on the shelves was in barrels or

sacks. Some jars of candy were lined up on a table to the left of the door, and alarge crates were stacked up to the right with labels such as "sugar" and "barley."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll place the order immediately."

"Thank you, John. That's all I need today."

"Very good. A fine day to you."

The lady in purple eyed me curiously as she turned and walked out the door. Istepped up to the counter. "Hello," I said.


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The brown-eyed, brown-haired man looked surprised when he saw me. "Well, hello!What can I help you with, little lady?"

"Well actually, I was wondering if I could helpyou. Are you looking to hire, sir?"He smiled when he heard this. "I've been considering hiring some part-time aid for a

while now, in fact." He paused. "But aren't you a little young to be looking for sucha thing, Miss?"

"Um"Why are humans so inquisitive in the West?"I've just arrived here fromBoston, so I have very little. It would help me greatly if I could earn a small salary."

His eyes lit in comprehension, but he still didn't look very convinced. "All right, then.

You can start helping me here for a small bit of cash, and maybe it'll be profitable for

the both of us as we move along." He smiled wide and stuck his hand out to me overthe counter space. "I go by the name 'John Stockton' here in town, Miss."

"I'm Cornelia," I said, taking his hand in a light shake. "Thank you very much, MisterStockton."

"Have you a place to stay in Hoquiam, Miss Cornelia? Do you have family here?"

I briefly considered how I should respond. It was apparent that this man had not

heard my lie yet, but if I told another story to him then people would begin toquestion. I had already made a claim, and I'd better stick to it. "I've come to livewith my uncle," I said vaguely.

His next question was natural, "What's his name? I probably know him."

I took a deep breath and said, "Carlisle Cullen."

His reaction was similar to Mister Wells'. "Doctor Cullen? Who would have thought

that man had family!" He laughed, and then quickly turned it into a couch. "Yes,well when would you like to start?"

I smiled. "As soon as possible."

Very shortly, I was stocking shelves with new supplies and dusting windowsills.

Mister Stockton helped the frequent patrons that passed the threshold, and I workedbehind the scenes to make their shopping experience a good one. However, I heardcustomers murmur about me behind my back; even Mister Stockton gossiped about

my supposed uncle. My heart sank deeper and deeper with each whisper. How will Iget out of that situation?

Nevertheless, I enjoyed my work so well that I was surprised when Mister Stockton

informed me that it was lunchtime. He told me I'd worked enough for that day, and

gave me my first pay: fifty cents. He said that I could return the next day for morework. I lost count of how many times I thanked him.


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With five shiny dimes clenched in my hand, I felt on top of the world as I walkedback out into Hoquiam. It was enough to pay my fee at The Featherbed and to buy

some new clothes. I put two dimes in my pocket to pay Mister Wells when hereturned that evening, and walked down the main street of town.

There was a tavern directly across from The Featherbed, called simply "Hoquiam

Tavern." I pictured a much less refined version of the inn I had chosen. Aglassblowing shop was next to the General Store, and a bookstore stood at the end

of the buildings on the right. A Post Office stood all alone at the end of the street,

and two men were arguing over a newspaper headline on the porch. The last buildingon the left was my destination: "Hoquiam Tailor Shop."

The shop was much more spacious than the General Store, and there were morewindows that let light in. Glass-paned cabinets along the western wall held yarns and

thread of all colors. On the opposite wall was scores and scores of materials. Therewere solids, florals, and tartans of all varieties in rolls along the wall. Along the backwall was a long wrack of pre-made clothes. A thin lady in an apron sat in the far left

corner on a stool, sticking and pulling a needle through a piece of blue cloth. A

middle-aged man with red hair stood spoke with a young lady by the material rolls.The whole room smelt of fresh flax and cotton, and the bright colors and lighting wasvery appealing.

When I stepped further into the room, the woman on the stool looked up at me. She

smiled as she walked over to me. "Welcome, dear. I don't think we've had the

pleasure ?" Her misty voice complimented her willowy frame, and her wide blueeyes were curious as she awaited my introduction.

"Cornelia, ma'am. I'm new in town."

"Millicent Weaver, Miss Cornelia. But don't let the name fool you I'm the town'sseamstress." She giggled at her own little joke and embraced me lightly around theshoulders.

I tried to relax around her motherly manner. "It's good to meet you, Miss Weaver."

"But, dear, where's your mother?" She stepped back and looked behind me, asthough to find something there.

"She passed away while I was living in Boston. I've come here to live wi th myuncle." The lie was so easy now; I was beginning to believe it myself.

Empathy erupted in her kind eyes and I felt as though I'd just told her

thather

mother died. "My God, how terrible that must be for you I apologize for "

I put up a hand to stop her. "No need. It happen long ago when I was very young."

But she was still close to tears.

Wanting to change the subject away from myself, I smiled and said, "I'm looking fora new dress."


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Seeing my discomfort, she immediately brightened. "Is that so? You've come to theright place, Miss."

She lead me to the back of the store and showed me the variety of dresses they hadin my size. After taking my eye color and complexion into consideration, she

declared that the royal blue muslin dress and overcoat suited me best. I consented

easily until I looked at the price tag. I tried not to gawk at the $2 tag and insistedthat something warmer would do with the cooling weather. However, even the

simple, forest green cotton dress was 75.

Deeply concerned (yet subtly unnoticing) about my financial situation, Millicent lead

me to the raw material section. I found the very same gingham green, cottonmaterial, and determined that 12 worth of the fabric would be enough for an ankle-length dress and a hair covering. Another 8 of a matching solid green materialwould make a fine smock. I paid four more cents for a needle, thread, and scissors,and thanked Millicent for her time.

I took my purchases and my remaining 6 back to my room at The Featherbed, and

found that Mister Wells had returned early. He treated me to an afternoon lunch, andwe discussed my situation over a steaming bowl of Martha's fresh vegetable soup. I

produced the two dimes from my pocket, and Mister Wells looked impressed.

"Mister Stockton at the General Store has taken me on part-time," I informed him.

He nodded. "John has been wanting an employee for a while. I'm happy that you'veoccupied yourself here so quickly."

I smiled. "I can't thank Mister Stockton enough."

As we talked, I leaned that he had inherited the inn from his grandfather who had

passed away. Much like myself, he had moved to Hoquiam away from his family tomanage the business.

"You've no family here, Mister Wells?" I asked.

"Only my sister Martha."

"Martha is your sister !" I was surprised; save their eyes, they looked little alike.

"Yes," he said, smiling at my disbelief. "She married Shamus Brown shortly after wemoved here. You may have met him at the tailor's. He's worked there for years, and

they live together in the apartment above the shop."

I remembered the red-haired man I'd seen at the Tailor Shop, and nodded.

In the end, Mister Wells and I came to a financial arrangement. He would charge me

half-price (a very generous ten cents) until I could find permanent arrangements intown. I could feel his curiosity as to why I didn't simply stay with my "uncle," but hewas too polite to inquire after the topic. I didn't understand his boundless generosity,but thanked him endlessly anyway.


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I returned to my ten-cent room and began work on my new outfit. While I had beenout, Martha had rekindled my hearth and refilled my pitcher with clean water. I

dragged a chair from the table to sit by the fire, and laid my supplies out of the bed.I had photographically memorized the pattern that Millicent had showed me, so Imade cuts here and there on the material to begin. I sewed as quickly as my super-human dexterity allowed, yet I had only finished half of the dress after two full

hours.

Wanting to stretch my stiff legs, I went back outside for a stroll in town. More clouds

had gathered on the horizons, and I smelt that rain was soon to come. I walked bythe main street shops, the church, and the doctor's office to reach the small humanneighborhood on the far side of town. Most of the homes were two-story duplexes,

but some privately-owned homes were larger.

For the first time, I noticed a small trade shack beyond the houses. Several wagonswere waiting to pick up supplies for trade, and several were unloading purchasedsupplies. I spoke with the employee that managed the stables, and discovered that

Hoquiam was a major lumber hub in the North. Traders from as south as Nevada

came to buy their cuts, and they even bartered with some French-speakingCanadians. There were several lumber camps and mills surrounding Hoquiam formany miles.

On my way back to The Featherbed, I caught a scent that I wasn't expecting.

Werewolf.

I tracked it to the building across the street from my inn the tavern.

Forcing myself through the swinging wooden doors, I was met with the putrid smell

of alcohol and smoke. There was laughing and yelling all around the two story, open

room. There were two gentlemen at the bar, competing on who could drink morebefore passing out. The third man had already passed out at his stool. Tables and

chairs filled ever available space in the room, and many groups of men were playing

cards or dice games at them. However, a space had been cleared in the center of theroom (tables had obviously been pushed aside, adding to the clutter) where a groupof men stood in a circle. The other patrons seemed not to notice them, and the

bartender was watching nervously, looking pretty helpless.

A boy, appearing about 15 or 16 years of age, stood in the center of the circle ofmen. His dark skin and brown hair gave away his heritage easily. Apparently, the six

white men had some sort of quarrel with the boy. The latter, sensing my presence,looked behind himself at me. His expression blanked, and he opened his mouth to

say something

Then, as he was distracted, the man nearest him swung his fist at him. The human'sknuckles cracked against the boy's jaw, no doubt fracturing in several places. Theboy stepped back in surprise, and put up his hands in surrender. The man clutchedhis fist and howled in pain.

"Son of a bitch!" another man yelled, staring at the boy.

"S-S-Sorry!" the boy stuttered, stepping away and waving his hands.


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He bumped into a third man, and he grabbed the boy by the collar and shoved himdown to his knees. "What the hell is wrong with you, Black?" the human yelled.

Black. Titus Black. His son, perhaps?"Stop that!" I shouted.Nearly every eye in the bar turned to me. The men in the group laughed, and my

knees all but buckled by the smell alone.

The man who held Black eyed me with his bloodshot eyes, and a smile creased the

sweaty, unshaven skin of his face. Tobacco smacked in his mouth as he spoke, "Whosays, little girl?"

I squared my shoulders with what dignity I had. "Let that boy go, sir. What you'redoing is wrong."

Another ripple of laughter went through the crowd, and some men at the tableslooked up from their cards. The man with the tobacco seemed to be the ringleader.

"I just have a small dispute to settle with young Ephraim here," he drawled,

smirking.

The boy was struggling to keep his composure as he was held down, and I becameworried. I'd known young wolves to be dangerous; Lakota had never let me near his

sons when they first transformed. But I was unsure...Perhaps wolves in the West aredifferent, as well?

My hands began to shake at my sides. "Sir, let him go. You don't know what "

Suddenly, the boy gave a terrible cry, and within half a second he was out of thedoor. All the humans present were startled; it must have looked like he simplydisappeared. Without ado, I quickly left the bar while the humans were distracted.

Outside, the boy had already made it halfway down the main street. At least heremembered to run like a human.I tore off after him, and caught up as quickly as Icould. He was already behind the Post Office when I reached him.

"You there!" I shouted, slowing my steps.

He had already fell to his knees on the ground. He breathed heavily and clenched his

fists to his chest. His gaze was frozen on the ground. He had almost lost control forsure.

I carefully put a hand on his shoulder, and his head snapped back immediately toglare at me. "I-I apologize. I saw you there I simply had to help "

"No," he growled, standing rigidly. I stepped back. "They'renot right." He turned,and his eyes burned down at me. "Fatheronlysent me to givethisto Peter Whittier."He shoved a half-crumpled envelope towards me firmly, speaking abruptly.

"Theydidn'tlikemyskin."


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I took the letter from him. "Peter Whittier" was roughly scribbled on the front; aname I wasn't familiar with. I looked up at the boy and smiled kindly. "I'll make sure

he receives it. You can go home if you have no other business in Hoquiam."

"No, Idon't," he spat, annoyed. "Be sure thatonlyWhittier gets it. Don'tletanyother handstouchit. He'll know what it is when he sees it." Then he paused,as though realizing something important. "Wh-Who are you?"

"Oops, I should introduce myself. I'm Cornelia." I offered my hand, and his forever-fevered one shook mine firmly.

"Ephraim. Ephraim Black."

I smiled; he was proud of that name, and rightly so. "I'm sure we'll be seeing moreof each other, Ephraim."

His eyes narrowed, and I could tell that he knew what I was. After a moment hestood to his full height and nodded sharply. "Very well, Cornelia. I'm going now."

"Farewell." I curtsied.

He smiled at my mock-formality and bowed before turning to the dirt trail that leadout of town.


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Chapter 5: A Chat with my Uncle

October 28th1789, midnightSomewhere in Pennsylvania

I cowered in the dark oak forest, hugging my knees to my chest. My hands shookeven when I held them tight. The crescent moon offered little illumination to the cold

autumn night, but the stars burnt brightly in the midnight sky. Owls hooted quietlyfrom treetops; crickets serenaded the heavens.

I jumped up quickly when a foot stepped on a twig loudly. In panic, I ran.

Arms caught me and held me back, and I started to scream until I realized whosearms they were.

"Lakota!" I hissed, sinking to my knees. I saw his white teeth smile through the darknight. "Did you see them? How many are there?"

"I do not know; countless." Lakota's smile vanished, and he frowned. "Quee hasstayed to lure them out," he said, and then I realized that there were other wolves

surrounding us. "We will defend you during your return to the village; their feet areswift and they'll reach here soon."

"But, Lakota," I protested, "I want to help you fight! I can !"

"Ssshh." He held up a hand, and I fell silent. He sniffed the air, and I copied him.

He was right; there are many.

His eyes were bright with bravery, and he pushed me southwest towards the village."Run, Cornelia. Fast!"

I obeyed. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me, but it wasn't fast enough. Thevampire scent got closer and closer the farther I ran.

Suddenly, something hit me. It felt like running headlong into an oncoming train,

and it knocked the breath from my lungs as I hit the ground. It pinned my legsbefore I could act. I forgot all of Quee's and Lakota's combat training when I saw his

bloody red eyes. I screamed louder every millimeter it got closer to my neck. I

thrashed hard, and finally I broke free! I flipped away to safety but too late. Painerupted in my shoulder and my throat burned with my cries. Venom boiled my blood

and stung my cells, and then I felt him take a mouthful of my life-giving blood

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

"Corneliaaaaaa! Yooohooo!"

I shot upright, panting. I ripped the clothing off my bloody shoulder and...A scar?But!


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I nearly fell off the small bed as I took in my surroundings. The Featherbed... novampires... no enemies.Shaking my head vehemently, I forced myself to come backto the nineteenth century. I looked at the crescent-shaped scar on my collarbone

and sighed heavily. It wasn't the first time that I'd experienced that same memorythrough my dreams. That's what all my dreams were memories.

My whole body was covered in a cold sweat, and I shivered as I pushed the quilts offmyself. My pale legs shimmered lightly, and my head jerked up to behold theperfectly blue sky out my window.

"Cornelia! Are you in there?" Martha shouted from the hall.

"Yes!" I groaned.

"The day is awaiting, dearie! 'Drop your dreams; rise as the sun'!"

Martha had taken to inventing her own proverbs over the past eight days I'd stayedat The Featherbed. Only her soups kept me asking for more.

The wooden floor felt like frozen ice when I put my bare feet on it. After wrapping aquilt around my shoulders, I quickly slipped on my socks and shoes. I leaned down

at the hearth and stuck my finger in the semi-warm ashes there. Shuttering, I stoodto get dressed for the day.

Smoothing my newly-finished green smock, I walked down the hallway and

descended the stairs. That green dress was the pride of my life. "Hello, Martha," Isang, skipping past the counter.

Her forever-flushed cheeks dimpled when she smiled. "Well, I declare! After all the

other guests finish breakfast andgone!"I giggled affably and took my usual seat. "Oh, Martha," I sighed dramatically, using

my finest noble accent. "You've only waken me from the sweetest dream" Why didI have such an affinity forlying?"My, my, dear lady. Do tell, I say!" she exclaimed theatrically, flitting to my side with

a bowl of cold soup. It was creamy potato soup, with the potatoes I'd helped herpeel the previous evening.

We had invented our own tradition of bantering in the morning. I was fast becoming

friends with Martha Brown. "Well," I began, "I dreamt of my love. Mytruelove!"She gasped into her hand and began scrubbing a table with a damp rag. "Graciousme! How was he like, dear lady?"

"Why" On perfect timing, Mister Wells came out of the door under the stairs, whichI had leaned was his private quarters and office. "Why, he was...!" I looked back at

Mister Wells and pointed dramatically, pretending to faint upon the table. Martha andI giggled into our hands as Mister Wells watched innocently.


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"Have I just become a part of some joke?" he asked offhandedly. A small smile brokeon his face when we simply continued to laugh.

"Go-od morning, M-Mister Wells," I said between chuckles. Martha struggled to gainher composure by pretending to drop her rag.

"And to you, Miss Cornelia." No one had queried after my surname, and I hoped tokeep it that way for as long as possible as I didn't have one. "And a fine one it is,"he continued, straightening some papers and placing them behind the counter.

"Indeed, yes," I agreed, looking out the window at the blue sky again, still

smiling.I'll have to take an umbrella if I'm to go out.The day was Saturday, andMister Stockton had told me that I had no need to work on that particular day of the

week. However, I would appear strange if I simply stayedindoorsall day."Caleb? Are you going out?" Martha called after her brother as he took his hat fromthe stand.

"Yes, I need to post this right away." He held up an envelope. "A good day to you,

ladies." He tipped his head as he closed the door behind himself. The fire flickeredwith the wave of cold the door had let in. Apparently the weather wasn't as mild as itappeared to be.

After silently finishing my entire bowl of soup in five spoons, my hands froze when I

had the bowl halfway to my waiting tongue."Yes, I need to post this right away.""Martha?"

"Hmmm?"

"Who's Paul Whittier?" I asked, picturing the letter that sat under my bed next to myleather pouch of coins.

She laughed harmoniously. "Why, he's the senior physician at the clinic, Cornelia."

I deadpanned. I was very familiar with the small doctor's office that they called a"clinic." The "peaceful" vampire's scent went to and from it every day. When I didn't

need to sleep, I snuck out of my north-facing window at night to hunt. Many times

on such nights, I crossed his scent in the woods. Either hewas avoiding me too, or Iwas more lucky than I thought. I had no clue what a vampire was doing in a doctor's

clinic, but I knew it was no good thing. Blood hoarding, mutilation, doctor "assisted"suicide

"Why do you ask, Cornelia?" Martha asked, bringing me from my musings. "Are yougoing to see your uncle?"

My white lie had spread around the town like wildfire. Gossipers and chinwags were

prattling about it behind my back everywhere I roamed. Thus, I had devised acleaver story to excuse my complete disregard for my "uncle." Since I discoveredthat the demon lived very far out of town, I claimed to have wished to live closer to


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town.Yes, I had spoken with my uncle;yes, he had given his consent to my currentresidence at The Featherbed. An elaborate falsehood, but it was all I could do to

guardhisidentity as well as mine.I looked up at Martha as she took my empty dish. She was still waiting for ananswer.

"Yes, Martha. I suppose I will."

As I returned to my room to retrieve the note, my plans were dashed when Iremembered the weather. Even if I managed to reach the clinic, the demon would

probably not be there. On the prior Wednesday, when he usually worked, the sunhad prevented him from coming into town. That had been the day that I tracked hisscent to the large house in the forest on the border of town. After glimpsing thesouthern face of the vial lair, I had run back to Hoquiam with all due haste.

Though it would be better to go there when he's not, I suppose. Maybe some cloudswill come later...

I set the envelope addressed to "Peter Whittier" in the sun-filled sill of my window,and sat down on the bed to work on my newest sewing project. I had bought 2worth of white cotton for a nightgown. I'd even secured some lace trim for the hemsand bust. I pulled my white thread through the fabric... in and out and in and out.

I helped Mister Stockton at the General Store every day from seven o'clock 'til

lunchtime, except for the weekends. He paid me fifty cents each day, which was an

overly generous sum. I had one dollar and fifty cents saved in my leather moneypouch. I had already made my weekly payment of 70 to Mister Wells, and hadsplurged on some caramel chews and peppermint sticks at Mister Stockton's. I had

refused when he offered half-price for employee's, and he had laughed at my

staunchness.

But what I had my eye on the most was the pocket watch at the glassblower's. Theowner, one Mister Elijah Timmins, was a master glassblower and metal-worker. The

shop's name ("Timmins' Glassworks") did not elude to his other merchandise. He had

glass cups and figures and panes, as well as metal locks and hinges and gadgets. Hisyoung apprentice, Nathan Cummings, the tavern owner's son, was deft with softmetals. He was also the designer of the object of my infatuation. The light silver

pocket watch and chain in the front window caught my eye every time I walked bythe storefront. It had an intricate molding on the face: tall majestic pine trees standon a high cliff face, overlooking the stormy billowing ocean, fish jumping here and

there between the graceful waves. It was $12.

By the sun, it was noon by the time I finished my nightgown. I tried it on, and was

very pleased with my work. I had just started stitching the lace onto the collar whenMartha knocked at the door.

"Come in, Martha!" I called, picturing her surprise when she heard her own name.

The door opened, and Martha waddled in with two fire logs in her arms. "How'd youknow it was me?" she asked, her rosy cheeks turned up in a smile.


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I set my needlework aside and stood to help her with the cold fireplace. "Youknocked thrice; only you would knock so meekly." I couldn't imagine her

appreciation of the fact that I could smell her rose-petal scent through the heavydoor.

"Oh, Miss... I digress..."

After helping to stoke the fire and complimenting my fine sewing with the nightgown,

Martha offered me some lunch. I declined, favoring to eat in my room. She left tohelp the lunch crowd of mill workers from the surrounding camps. Most of the

workers favored The Featherbed's fine menu and friendly service over the tavern'sbrusque atmosphere.

As I settled back into my lace hemming, I glanced out of the window. Some puffs of

white clouds were drifting overhead, but that didn't necessarily mean it would rain. IfI were outside, I would smell it on the wind if it were coming.

Not able to resist temptation any longer, I put my supplies away in the wardrobe and

slipped the envelope into the front pocket of my smock. I would walk in the shadowof the buildings on main street while the sun was out. There were many things I stillhadn't seen in Hoquiam, and I knew I could find something to keep me out of thesun.

I took a deep breath of the cold, moist, late morning air and set off. As I walked by

the Tack and Bridle shop, I head the pounding of a hammer on an anvil. As I walked

by the General Store, I heard Mister Stockton selling a pound of raw cinnamon. Iwondered if I should buy some new material for another dress or maybe a cloak for

the cool weather.I'll need a pattern... Mrs. Weaver doesn't have any that I canpurchase.

The smell in the small shop was of parchment an ink. High, book-filled shelvesmeandered through the tight space, and I traveled through the dark maze to find the

checkout counter. A man in a very fancy, purple suit sat behind it, his chin perched

on his fist with his nose in a book. It was entitledLetters from a Farmer inPennsylvania to the Inhabitants of the English Colonies.I remembered very wellwhen the pamphlet was published by John Dickinson.

"Hello, sir."

The man was very surprised by my sudden presence, and be bumbled his apologies

as he half-closed his book. "Hmph, yes, how can I help you?" By the way his h'sslurred and hiss's dragged, the man was French."Yes, sir. I'm looking for a book on sewing patterns."

He motioned to the bookcase on the back wall with a lace-cuffed hand. "There shouldbe several guides in that area, young lady. Talk to me once you find what you'relooking for."

"Excellent. Thank you, sir."


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"Hm, hm... no trouble at all."

I walked to the shelf and knelt at the bottom. Several titles caught my

interest:Felling the Frontier: A Guide on Timbering,Hairstyles for American Womenof 1800,A Study: Post-War French and Indian Relations,andThe Guide to theNorthwest. However, the next shelf up held the item of my search The Seamstress'sHelper.

"Excuse me, sir," I said, taking my find back to the counter. The man glanced overtop of his book. "How much is this volume?"

"All medium-sized books are $3, Miss."

I tried to hide me surprise.Who knew books were so expensive?"O-Oh. Thank you,then. Good day."

I left the shop with a frown.I hate being poor.I walked along the very edge of myshadow until a reached the end of the street. Then, I turned around and startedagain.

It wasn't until the forty-seventh turn that clouds came out to cover the sun. And

then, it was only a thin cover of white clouds. Sighing at my chronic misfortune, I set

out across town to the clinic. When I reached the church's street, I caught hisscent.It always lead to and from the clinic, but I could tell that the trail was fresh. He wastaking advantage of the clouds, just as I was.

My fingernails were digging into the palms of my hands as I stood in front of thesmall doctor's office. His scent was all over the small white house; from the small

stone path, to the blue wooden door. I could hear voices from inside, but I couldn't

pay attention enough to decrypt them. My mind was screaming one thing and onething alone.Run.My teeth were grinding against each other as my hand gripped the brass doorknob.It took all my concentration not to crush it. I stared without seeing the red-and-

white sign on the door: "Clinic open Monday through Saturday from five in themorning to eight in the evening. No appointments necessary. Surgeon Doctor PaulWhittier residing."

Hisscent moved just behind the door. The door whose knob I was slowly turning..."Oh hello. How can we help you?"

I tried to collect my expression as I address the young human female that hadspoken. "Er..."

The room was tiny; like the coat room of a schoolhouse. It looked as though it was

the receiving room, as there was a paper-scattered desk where the human sat.Waiting benches were lined along the front walls, and a sliding pine door closed off

the next room directly ahead. The human was in normal clothes, with a large whiteapron tied around her waist. She smiled kindly.


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"Yes, I need to speak with Doctor Whittier."

Her eyes did a quick sweep of my un-harmed body. "Is it about a medical problem?"

I shook my head. "I need to deliver a message."

"Oh. In that case, you could just leave it with me if you like."

I was tempted.Verytempted to simply give her the letter. However, Ephraim'swords echoed through my head"Be sure that only Whittier gets it. Don't let anyother hands touch it."

"Um I'd prefer to deliver it in person, if you don't mind."

She seemed surprised. "Yes, of course. You can go back, then." She motioned to thedoor.

I nodded to her, and smiled reassuringly. "Thank you, ma'am."

A shockwave of foreboding went through me when my hand touched the door. My

instincts to flee made me want to crawl out of my own skin to get away from thatdoor. The human looked at me strangely when I hesitated. So, I forced myself toslide open the door and bravely stepped inside.

The room must have been five times the first; the outside of the building hid its truesize. Beds were lined up along the walls, head to foot. Three large cabinets stood inthe very middle of the room with medical supplies scattered on top of each. Windows

circled the entire room, though there was dark brown draperies covering the light.

The hard-wood floors were spot clean, and the prominent smell in the room, otherthan drugs and medicines, was peroxide. However, when stood out from all the other

odors in the room wasvampire.I saw the demon immediately: he was kneeling in front of the bed in the rightmostcorner of the room. Though he was facing away, I saw that he wore a similar suit to

what I'd last seem him in (which was also the first time), and he now sported a

cream-colored lab coat over it. A little girl sat on the edge of the bed, holding thehand of the man who stood over her, which I assumed was her father. The girl's blueeyes were filled with tears, and her bottom lip trembled as she stared up at her

father. My eyes widened when I saw whathewas treating. He pulled quick stitchesthrough the torn, bloody skin of her knee.

I felt my stomach churn.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

I turned to the man walking toward me. He had greying hair on either side of his

balding head, and his belly barely fit into his trousers. His spread-out brown eyesreminded me that of a frog. He couldn't have been very much taller than my 5'3".

"Doctor Whittier, I presume?"


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He spoke briskly, as though very occupied by something. "Yes. Richard Whittier. Thepleasure is mine, I'm sure."

He made me feel uncomfortable. "I have a message here for you." I pulled the notefrom my pocket and held it out to him. "It is from the Quileutes. I was told you were

expecting it."

His eyes brightened with recognition, and he took the envelope quickly. "Thank you.

I was expecting it. Thank you for bringing it," he said briskly, turning away before

he'd finished.Perhaps heisvery occupied.I felt immediately liberated. I'd never expected that I wouldn't even have to

encounterhim. I turned quickly for the door."Oh, Cornelia! Don't leave just yet. I'd like to speak with you."

I froze immediately. It washisvoice that had summoned me. I turned only my head,keeping my body angled towards the door.

He

wasn't even looking at me, though thetwo humans were. I heard the male ask who I was, and I heard the demon explain

that I was his relative, and then I heard the man recall that he'd heard that I was in

town.Hewrapped the girl's stitched leg with a bulky bandage, and told her not towalk for a few days. The father thanked him, carefully picked the girl up from the

cot, and walked towards the door.

The girl leaned against her father's shoulder, still fighting tears. The man was

obviously worried about his child, and he merely nodded to me as he passed. Thedoor slid shut unusually loud. The demon faced away towards the bed as he rolled upsome spare gauze.

"Carlisle, I need to post something straightway. If Mrs. Parson calls, make sure she

stays 'til I return."

"Of course, Doctor Whittier. Farewell."

Doctor Whittier walked by me again, not noticing me at all, stuffing some papers intoa new envelope. Then, half turning, "Ah, yes. Thank you again, young lady. Goodday to you."

"Good day," I whispered, not really caring if he head me. My eyes were stuck on thedemon, who was making a note on the paper that sat on one of the cabinet tops.

The entire atmosphere changed in a matter of seconds when we were alone; it

became charged with tense energy and circumspection. I noticed for the first time

the ticking of the pocket watch that lay nearhisinkwell, and the gentle patter of rainthat had begun on the windows. Twelve candles hissed from their spots on the walls,in groups of four around the room.

I watched his amber-colored eyes track words on the page as he wrote.


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Then, he set the quill down, and straightened. I flattened my back as well, though itdid little for my intimidation output. Or lack thereof. He looked at me for the first

time, and I looked back. We were both motionless for several long moments, and thewind blew the rain heavily against the house. I waited for him to make the firstmove, my muscles poised for anything and everything.

Suddenly, with near-silent footsteps, he moved closer. My ankles ached from holdingmyself there, and I tried to keep my face void of fear. He stopped about five feet

from me, and even at that distance I had to look up at his eyes. Those caramel eyesof his stared down at me, completely devoid of any emotion.

"I've heard a rumor," he said abruptly, startling me, "that my niece is in town."

I swallowed dryly. My voice shook, betraying my neutral expression, "W-Well... I...

I've heard that as well." This was the moment I'd been dreading; what I had picturedsince the first time I told the lie.

I'm sure I misconstrued the small smile that ghosted his lips. He continued, speaking

purposely slow, "I'm sure you're aware of the inconspicuousness I wish to keep inHoquiam."

I nodded slowly, solemnly.

"And you're familiar with the reason for that desire, are you not?"

I nodded again, sharply and surely. "I am."

He sighed then, very quietly, and the human gesture surprised me.Does he confusehimself with them?"Thenhow, Miss Cornelia, do you suggest we proceed from ourcurrent situation?"

I turned my chin up, matching his formal tone, "Is the situation so unacceptable theway it currently is?"

"Miss Cornelia, you forget that I have a 'family member' in town that the residentsexpect me to support."

"Perhaps she will fare well on her own, sir."

"It would be irresponsible of her care provider to abandon her in such a manner."

"Perhaps she no longer requires a care provider."

"A seventeen-year old girl who has just traveled from Boston?" he countered. Histone questioned my sanity.

"Eighteen," I amended, becoming indignant.

"Nonetheless," he retorted. "Why is shehere?"


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I balked. I didn't have one for that I didn't even know the answer myself. Yet, I

stood my ground with stubbornness and pride. "That'snotof your concern."He took one confident, broad step forward, and my faade nearly shattered. Hisvoice was cold and curt, "I beg to differ."

I bit my lip hard to keep from retreating. "Doctor Cullen," I addressed him harshly,

using his title for the first time. "What do yousuggest?"He blinked another human exercise and said nothing.What strange world hadthis demon emerged from?

I felt anger fill me, and felt a will rise up from somewhere within me. "A more

important question would beyourpurpose here." A will to fight. "Why are you adoctor? Why do you walk amongthem? And why are your eyes thatabsurdcolor?"His posture became more and more stiff with each question. The muscle in his jaw

worked as he nearly glared down at me. I could tell he was fighting to keep hiscarefully-cultivated composure. "Perhaps this is not the best place for thoseanswers." He spoke through gritted teeth.

"No. Perhaps not."

I turned on my heel and promptly left the establishment...

Scared out of my mind.


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Chapter 6: The Aversion

November 28th 1813, 11:45pm

Hoquiam, Oregon Country

I sat on my bed with my dark-brown flannel cloak wrapped around my shoulders,

reading my new novel by candlelight. The flame flickered in the pitch-black room of

The Featherbed, dancing off the pages ofOliver Twist.Three of my hard-earneddollars went into the purchase of that book, so I would never tire of reading it evenif it was my seventh time through.

My room was sparsely filled with my random acquisitions. An iron teakettle sat nearthe hearth, steaming with the fragrance of the black tea leaves I bought from Mister

Stockton. In the wardrobe, a new set of fur-lined boots sat next to my old lace-ups;my old purple dress from the East hung next to my finished nightgown on the clothes

bracket. A new batch of peppermint sticks sat on the table next to the bread Marthaserved with dinner. My half-finished red satin sewing project was laid over back of

the chair next to the fire, withThe Seamstress's Helperbelow it on the seat. Thistime, I was making a floor length, three layer gown for the cold winter that had

settled in. I planned to buy white fur for the collar if the weather allowed thefollowing morning.

I raised the cup that I had clutched in my hand to my lips, but found that the liquidwas gone. Hopping down from bed, I tiptoed to the hearth in my stockings, andpoured some more tea from the kettle. There was only half a cup left.

After bookmarking my place with a fork, I setOliver Twistaside and took up mysewing.

It had been a full month since my discourse with the gold-eyed demon. I had beensuccessful in my campaign to avoid him during those weeks. However, his scent

sometimes wandered farther into town than merely the doctor's office. And I knew

that he was tracking me just as I was him, because his scent sometimes wandered

into my hunting grounds in the forest.Whatcould he could possibly be doing?Settingtraps, trying to scare me

In addition, I had often sensed the feeling of beingwatched. I could feel eyes onme when I brought wood into the General Store from the woodpile in the back alleyor when I sat in the tailor shop, taking knitting lessons from Millicent or when Idawdled in front of Timmins' shop, pining over the shiny watch in the window.

Washemessing with my mind?Learning my habits, my vulnerabilitiesIt was Friday night, so I wouldn't have to work in the morning. I hadn't eaten

Martha's shepherd's pie just so I could hunt that night. I had made a decision:

sincehewas so curious about me, I'd do a little surveillance of my own. I knew, frompast investigation, that the demonleftfor long periods of time every other Saturday(which was his time off from the clinic), starting Friday night after he left work. I had

tried tracking him the Saturday before last, but his scent went so far north that I'd

given up. I'd even gone so far that I ran across Titus Black in the Quileute territory.


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I'd asked him if he knew where the "Cold One" went every other week, but he'd hadno knowledge of it.

So tonight was the night. The night that I sacked his lair.

Of course, when he returned the following Sunday night, he would know that I had

been there. My scent would linger, and he would know. But I didn't care, you see. Iwascrazedby that demon that demon with gold eyes.I pulled on my new winter boots, secured my brown cloak around my shoulders,

strapped Lakota's dagger under my skirts, and blew out the candle on the table.After sticking a peppermint stick in my pocket for the trip, I gently opened the small

window above my bed. I hoisted myself through and dropped onto the large eve onthe back of The Featherbed. Closing the window, I jumped the 15-or-so feet to thesnow covered ground.

The first snow had been two weeks prior, and it had been piling up to one and a halffeet ever since. It had stopped snowing hours ago, but the blizzard clouds still

obstructed the stars from view. I landed knee deep in the white powder, with a softthump. Glancing up, I pulled the hood of my cloak over my hair and ducked out intothe night.

After being sure I was far from human sight, I broke into a run. My feet barelytouched the snow, and my toes dusted along the top inch. Once I reached the forestoutside of town, the snow was shallower and I slowed down to catch a scent.

Hehad been all over those woods. I had hunted several days before, and had barelymissed an encounter with the demon himself.Stalking me, trying to intimidate meI soon came along a doe and her fawn. I watched them for several minutes, until a

stag came along and shooed his family on. I couldn't bring myself to separate them.

After wandering around some, I came along a faint scent and some paw prints in the

snow.Fox my favorite.I pulled out my dagger and followed the trail to a small den.He wasn't home, so I followed his scent even further until I found him. I snapped his

neck quickly and made a deep cut in his neck with my dagger. I leaned over thebody of the fox and drank deeply until I was satisfied, not letting one drop of thecrimson liquid fall to the white snow.

I buried the body and cleaned my dagger in a snowdrift, then set off the demon'svial domain.

The house itself was very humble; the plain wood paneling and high roof peaks werenot very noteworthy. However, the sheersizeof the two-story dwelling was enoughto impress me.Nearly twenty people could live here comfortably!Snow glistened inthe clearing around the house, and was piled high against the low eaves of the first-story windows. The cold night breeze made me shiver as I cautiously came out of theforest around the house.


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I double checked the scent around the front door; it was hours old. A largeoverhanging shielded the front entryway from being snowed-in, and I rubbed the ice

from the transoms around the heavy oak door to peer inside.

The space beyond looked like an ordinary receiving room. There was a cold, ashen

hearth with some quilted chairs and a sofa. A cabinet for coats and hats stood next

to a set of French doors, which appeared to lead to the next room. It was all veryconventional, which again surprised me.

Crossing my fingers, I reached for the brass doorknob. I turned it slowly, and it

found that it was unlocked. Not surprising, since the home was so far from any

civilization. I stepped into the receiving room, and the door closed against thethreshold with a soft thud.

I glanced around the room; it wasn't furnished very well. The wooden mantle wasbare and dusty, and t

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