unexpected

The line of black advanced on me through the shroud-like mist. I could see their dark ruby eyes glinting with desire, lusting for the kill. Their lips pulled back over their sharp, wet teeth—some to snarl, some to smile.

I heard a sound behind me, I turned to see the faces of my human family and friends, all of them were trembling with fright. I turned back to face the oncoming threat, though I was desperate to make sure everyone I loved felt safe and reassured, I could not afford any lapse in focus now.

The guards ghosted closer, their black robes billowing slightly with the movement. I saw their hands curl into bone-colored claws. They started to drift apart, angling to come at us from all sides. We were surrounded. We were going to die.

And then, like a burst of light from a flash, the whole scene was different. Yet nothing changed—the Volturi still stalked toward us, poised to kill. All that really changed was how the picture looked to me. Suddenly, I was hungry for it. I wantedthem to charge. The panic changed to bloodlust as I crouched forward, a smile on my face, and a snarl ripped through my bared teeth.

I jolted upright, shocked out of the dream.

The room was black. It was also steamy hot. Sweat matted my hair at the temples and rolled down my throat.

I groped the warm sheets and found them empty.

"Edward?"

Just then, my fingers encountered something smooth and flat and stiff. One sheet of paper folded in half. I took the note with me and felt my way across the room to the light switch.

The outside of the note was addressed to Mr. Beau Cullen.

I'm hoping you won't wake and notice my absence, but, if you should, I'll be back very soon. I've just gone to the mainland to hunt. Go back to sleep and I'll be here when you wake again. I love you.

I sighed. We'd been here about two weeks now, so I should have been expecting that he would have to leave, but I hadn't been thinking about time. We seemed to exist outside of time here, just drifting along in a perfect state.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead. I felt absolutely wide awake, though the clock on the dresser said it was after one. I knew I would never be able to sleep as hot and sticky as I felt. Not to mention the fact that if I shut off the light and closed my eyes, I was sure to see those prowling black figures in my head.

I got up and wandered aimlessly through the dark house, flipping on lights. It felt so big and empty without Edward there. Different.

I ended up in the kitchen and decided that maybe I should eat something. I wasn't particularly hungry, but maybe some comfort food would be nice.

I poked around in the fridge until I found all the ingredients for fried chicken. The popping and sizzling of the chicken in the pan was a nice, homey sound; I felt less nervous while it filled the silence.

It smelled so good that I started eating it right out of the pan, burning my tongue in the process. By the fifth or sixth bite, though, it had cooled enough for me to taste it. My chewing slowed. Was there something off about the flavor? I checked the meat, and it was white all the way through, but I wondered if it was completely done. I took another experimental bite; I chewed twice. Ugh—definitely bad. I jumped up to spit it into the sink. Suddenly, the chicken-and-oil smell was revolting. I took the whole plate and shook it into the garbage, then opened the windows to chase away the scent. A coolish breeze had picked up outside. It felt good on my skin.

I was abruptly exhausted, but I didn't want to go back to the hot room. So I opened more windows in the TV room and lay on the couch right beneath them. I turned on the same movie we'd watched the other day and quickly fell asleep to the bright opening song.

When I opened my eyes again, the sun was halfway up the sky, but it was not the light that woke me. Cool arms were around me, pulling me against him. At the same time, a sudden whirl of dizziness and a sharp pain twisted in my stomach.

"I'm sorry," Edward was murmuring as he wiped a wintry hand across my clammy forehead. "So much for thoroughness. I didn't think about how hot you would be with me gone. I'll have an air conditioner installed before I leave again."

I couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. "Excuse me!" I gasped, struggling to get free of his arms.

He dropped his hold automatically. "Beau?"

I streaked for the bathroom with my hand clamped over my mouth. I felt so horrible that I didn't even care—at first—that he was with me while I crouched over the toilet and was violently sick.

"Beau? What's wrong?"

I couldn't answer yet. He held me anxiously, keeping my hair out of my face, waiting till I could breathe again.

"Damn rancid chicken," I moaned.

"Are you all right?" His voice was strained.

"Fine," I panted. "It's just food poisoning. You don't need to see this. Go away."

"Not likely, Beau."

"Go away," I moaned again, struggling to get up so I could rinse my mouth out. He helped me gently, ignoring the weak shoves I aimed at him.

After my mouth was clean, he carried me to the bed and sat me down carefully, supporting me with his arms.

"Food poisoning?"

"Yeah," I croaked. "I made some chicken last night. It tasted off, so I threw it out. But I ate a few bites first."

He put a cold hand on my forehead. It felt nice. "How do you feel now? You're very warm."

I thought about that for a moment. The nausea had mostly passed, but I still felt off. All my joints ached. And it was so hot—swelteringly hot.  

He made me drink a big glass of water. He wanted me to stay in bed, but I didn't want to, so he carried me to the couch in front of the television. He put on CNN—we'd been so out of touch, world war three could have broken out and we wouldn't have known—and I lounged drowsily across his lap.

I got bored with the news and twisted around to kiss him. Just like this morning, a bout of nauseating dizziness overwhelmed me, and a sharp rolled through my body when I moved. I lurched away from him, my hand tight over my mouth. I knew I'd never make it to the bathroom this time, so I ran to the kitchen sink.

He kept my hair back from my face again.

"Maybe we should go back to Rio, see a doctor," he suggested anxiously when I was rinsing my mouth afterward.

I shook my head and edged toward the hallway. Doctors meant needles. "I'll be fine right after I brush my teeth."

"What's this?" He asked, running his cool fingers over the back of my neck.

I reached back, feeling a lump where his fingers had been. "I don't know…" I hesitated. "Oh, no, wait, I remember. I got bit by some bug the other night."

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked, concerned.

"It didn't seem like that big of a deal, bug bites are part of being human," I shrugged, inching my way to the bathroom, "Besides, I had other things on my mind that night."

He chuckled softly. "I see."

"Is it hotter today than it's been?" I asked, feeling the sweat beading on my forehead.

"No more so than before," He said softly, "perhaps you overheated last night."

"Maybe." I said, inching into the bathroom and closing the door behind me.

When my mouth tasted better, I searched through my suitcase for the little first-aid kit Alice had backed for me, full of human things like bandages and painkillers—I had a searing headache, probably from the strain of vomiting. Some painkillers and Pepto-Bismol would help settle my head and my stomach and calm Edward down.

As I was fumbling with the bottle of painkillers I felt another wave of dizziness coming on, I tried to steady myself against the sink, dropping the bottle which clattered to the tile floor.

"Are you alright, love?" Edward asked through the door. "Did you get sick again?"

"Just a dizzy spell," I groaned. "I think I'm oka—" My words were cut off by a sudden, violent cough that wracked through my body.

"Beau? Can I please come in?" His voice was worried now.

"O…kay…" I gasped through the coughs.

He came in and appraised my position, gripping the edge of the sink, my body still shaking from the violent coughing fit. Then his eyes grew wide and he was at my side, a hand on my back.

"What's wrong?"

"Just a cough, I think maybe I have the flu or something." I answered, clearing my throat.

"Beau…" His hand was at my mouth, his fingers wiping something away from the corner.

"What is it?" I asked, I was having an increasingly hard time focusing.

His face was stone, his eyes wide and hard, his lips pressed into a tight line as he held his hand out to me. There was blood on his fingers.

"What the hell?" I wiped at the corners of my mouth with my hand, finding more blood. "That's… not good." I coughed again, into my hand. When the fit passed, there were more flecks of red in my palm.

Edward's hand was on my forehead in a flash. "You're burning up. Does anything else feel wrong?" His voice was strained and full of panic.

"My head hurts, my body aches, I feel dizzy…" I tried to assess my physical state as thoroughly as possible. "I guess I'm pretty thirsty." I couldn't list anymore symptoms, another violent coughing fit spasmed through me and I lost my balance, falling into Edward's arms.

In the same moment, Edward's phone rang, shrill and demanding. Neither of us moved. It rang again and again. I tried to tune it out while I focused on steadying my breathing and calming the cough. I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror, my skin looked pale and clammy, there was blood trickling from the corner of my mouth.

The phone kept ringing. I wished Edward would answer it—I didn't think I could focus enough to do so myself.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Finally, the annoyance broke through everything else. I reached into his pocket and pulled the phone out, nearly dropping it. I half-expected him to thaw out and answer it himself, but he was perfectly still.

I glanced at the caller ID before answering.

"Hey, Alice," I said. My voice sounded dry and harsh. I cleared my throat.

'Beau? Beau, are you okay?"

"I don't know, Alice. I think I'm sick. Is Carlisle there?"

"He is. What's wrong, Beau?"

"I'm not sure…"

"Is Edward all right?" she asked warily. She called Carlisle's name away from the phone and then demanded, "Why didn't he pick up the phone?" before I could answer her first question.

"I'm not sure."

"Beau, what's going on? I just saw—"

"What did you see?"

There was a silence. "Here's Carlisle," she finally said.

It felt like ice water had been injected in my veins. If Alice had just seen a vision of me sick, she would have answered me, wouldn't she?

While I waited through the split second it took for Carlisle to speak, I wondered what Alice could have seen that would make her sound so worried.

"Beau, it's Carlisle. What's going on?"

"I'm not sure. I woke up feeling… sick, I guess." I glanced down at Edward, who was still unmoving at my side. "I'm a little worried about Edward… Can vampires go into shock?"

"Has he been harmed?" Carlisle's voice was getting urgent.

"No, no," I assured him. "I think he's just worried about me."

"I don't understand, Beau."

"I've been really hot and dizzy since I woke up, and then I started coughing and…" I looked down at my bloody hand.

"And what, Beau?"

"I started coughing up blood."

Carlisle's medical training immediately kicked in.

"What other symptoms do you have?"

"My body aches," I told him. "I'm dizzy, nauseous, hot…" Another cough burst through my lips. "There's the coughing with the blood, and I'm having a hard time focusing."

"Did you come into contact with anything that might have started the symptoms?"

"I got bit by a bug the other night."

"Beau, let me speak to Edward."

Edward's head snapped up, he held his hand out for the phone, his face white and hard.

"Okay, here he is."

"Thank you," Carlisle said in a strained voice.

Not entirely sure that Edward couldtalk, I put the phone in his outstretched hand.

He pressed it to his ear. "Carlisle, his blood…" he whispered.

He listened for a long time, staring blankly at nothing.

"Carlisle, what did Alice see?" he asked. His arm wrapped around me as he spoke, pulling me close into his side.

His eyes widened, and a look of despair passed over his face. After a long moment he said, "Yes. Yes, I will."

He pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed the "end" button. Right away, he dialed a new number.

"What did Carlisle say?" I asked, wobbling slightly.

Edward answered in a strained voice. "He thinks you're very sick."

The words were simple, straightforward enough. But the way he said them made my stomach drop. There was something… desperate, something deeply pained in his voice.

"Who are you calling now?" I asked as he put the phone back to his ear.

"The airport. We're going home."

Edward was on the phone for more than an hour without a break. I guessed that he was arranging our flight home, but I couldn't be sure because he wasn't speaking English. It sounded like he was arguing; he spoke through his teeth a lot.

While he argued, he packed. He whirled around the room like an angry tornado, leaving order rather than destruction in his path. He threw a set of my clothes on the bed without looking at them, so I assumed it was time for me to get dressed. He continued with his argument while I changed, gesturing with sudden, agitated movements.

When I could no longer bear the violent energy radiating out of him, I quietly left the room. His manic concentration made me sick to my stomach—not like the nausea, just uncomfortable. I would wait somewhere else for his mood to pass. I couldn't talk to this icy, focused Edward who honestly frightened me a little.

Once again, I ended up in the kitchen. I carefully got myself a glass of water, sipping it absently, staring out the window at the sand and rocks and trees and ocean, everything glittering in the sun.

"I don't want to go," I sighed to myself.

I stared out the window for a moment, feeling confused.

"I don't understand," I whispered.

Humans got sick. It was a part of life. I'd gotten sick before. Carlisle could fix me up, I was sure. He was a genius with medicine. What could possibly be different about this sickness? What could make Carlisle sound so worried? Make Edward so upset?

Then I realized.

It was what Alice had seen.

Something had made Carlisle and Edward scared. Scared for me. Something in Alice's vision had worried them to the point of what I could only describe as panic. I pressed the cool glass of water to my temple, trying to ease the burning heat that was making it increasingly difficult to focus.

My eyes were blurry, the sand and rocks slid out of focus into a smear of colors and light. I heard the crashing sound of glass breaking and felt water around my feet. Then, before I had time to fully grasp what was happening, the world turned upside down.

"Beau? Beau!" Edward's voice was panicked, rushing toward me.

I was vaguely aware of him cradling me to his chest. The coldness of his body felt good against my increasingly hot skin.

"Beau, are you alright?" His hand was gently pushing my hair out of my eyes. "Beau, say something, please."

"I'm fine," I croaked out the words. "What happened?"

He didn't speak at first. "You collapsed."

"Oh," I mumbled, glancing around.

He pulled me against his chest. "Don't be afraid. We'll be home in sixteen hours. You'll be fine. Carlisle will be ready when we get there. We'll take care of this, and you'll be fine, you'll be fine."

"Edward, what did Alice see?"

He didn't answer me, I tried to make my eyes focus on his face.

"Edward, what did she see?" I asked again, louder. The strain forced me into another fit of violent coughs.

He held me steady through the fit, when it had subsided he gently rubbed my back. "Alice's visions aren't set in stone, Beau. They're not…" He trailed off. "Don't worry, we willfix this. If Carlisle can't get you better…" He hesitated. "We have one last option."

He looked sharply away from me, toward the front door.

"Dammit! I forgot Gustavo was due today. I'll get rid of him and be right back." He lifted me and rushed me to a chair, leaving me there before darting out of the room.

I leaned against the nearby counter, feeling like I might fall out of the chair if I wasn't careful.

As I sat there, the severity of the situation began to come into focus before me. I was sick—very sick. So sick that Edward was panicked, that Carlisle needed to do something immediately. So sick, that Edward was willing to consider changing me in order to save me.

For Edward to even considerthat alternative made it perfectly clear to me what Alice had seen. There was no other explanation. Alice had seen my death.

I heard Edward speaking Portuguese again. Arguing again. His voice got closer, and I heard him grunt in exasperation. Then I heard another voice, low and timid. A woman's voice.

He came into the kitchen ahead of her and went straight to me. He wiped the sweat from my brown and murmured in my ear through the thin, hard line of his lips.

"She's insisting on leaving the food she brought—she made us dinner." If he had been less tense, less furious, I knew he would have rolled his eyes. "it's an excuse—she wants to make sure I haven't killed you yet." His voice went ice cold at the end.

Kaure edged nervously around the corner with a covered dish in her hands. I wished I could speak Portuguese, or that my Spanish was less rudimentary, so that I could try to thank this woman who had dared to anger a vampire just to check on me.

Her eyes flickered between the two of us. I saw her measuring the color in my face, the sheen of sweat on my skin. Mumbling something I didn't understand, she put the dish on the counter.

Edward snapped something at her; I'd never heard him be so impolite before. She turned to go and I cleared my throat, trying to remember how to apologize in Spanish, but my breath caught in my throat and I began coughing again. This time so violently, then when I could quell the coughs long enough to inhale, the breath was a strained gasp. Edward was holding me tightly, rubbing my back.

I heard a little gasp and I looked up.

The woman was still there, hesitating in the doorway with her hands half-outstretched as if she had been looking for some way to help. Her eyes were locked on my face, popping wide with shock. Her mouth hung open.

Then Edward gasped, too, and he suddenly turned to face the woman, cradling me against his chest.

Suddenly, Kaure was shouting at him—loudly, furiously, her unintelligible words flying across the room like knives. She raised her tiny fist in the air and took two steps forward, shaking it at him. Despite her ferocity, it was easy to see the terror in her eyes.

Edward stepped toward her, too, and I clutched at his arm, frightened for the woman. But when he interrupted her tirade, his voice took me by surprise, especially considering how sharp he'd been with her when she wasn't  screeching at him. It was low now; it was pleading. Not only that, but the sound was different, more guttural, the cadence off. I didn't think he was speaking Portuguese anymore.

For a moment, the woman stared at him in wonder, and then her eyes narrowed as she barked out a long question in the same alien tongue.

I watched as his face grew sad and serious, and he nodded once. She took a quick step back and crossed herself.

He reached out to her, gesturing toward me and then resting his hand against my cheek. She replied angrily again, waving her hands accusingly toward him, and then gestured to him. When she finished, he pleaded again with the same low, urgent voice.

Her expression changed—she stared at him with doubt plain on her face as he spoke, her eyes repeatedly flashing to my confused face. He stopped speaking, and she seemed to be deliberating something. She looked back and forth between the two of us, and then, unconsciously it seemed, took a step forward.

She asked me something I couldn't understand, I stared at her through my foggy haze. She pursed her lips, then began moving her hand around in the air, a droning buzzing sound coming from her lips. She moved her hand to her arm and pinched a bit of skin with her forefinger and thumb. I understood now, she was asking if I had been bitten by a bug. I weakly nodded my head.

She walked a few steps forward deliberately this time and asked a few brief questions, which he responded to tensely. Then he became the questioner—one quick query. She hesitated and then slowly shook her head. When he spoke again, his voice was so agonized that I looked up at him in shock. His face was drawn with pain.

In answer, she walked slowly forward until she was close enough to lay her small hand on my forehead. She spoke one word in Portuguese.

"Morte," she sighed quietly. Then she turned, her shoulders bent as if the conversation had aged her and left the room.

I knew enough Spanish for that one.

Edward was frozen again, staring after her with the tortured expression fixed on his face. A few moments later, I heard a boat's engine putter to life and then fade into the distance.

Edward did not move until I slowly stood to my feet and wobbled toward the bathroom. Then his hand caught my shoulder.

"Where are you going?" His voice was a whisper of pain.

"I need some painkillers. I never took any."

"Don't worry about what she said. She's seen this sickness before, but they don't have access to the same medicine here that Carlisle does."

"I didn't understand anything," I told him, though it wasn't entirely true. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Edward."

"I packed the painkillers. I'll get them for you."

"Are we leaving soon?" I asked weakly.

"As soon as you're ready."

He returned with the painkillers and a glass of water for me. He waited for me to finish, pacing silently.

"I'll get the bags into the boat." He finally said.

"Edward—"

He turned back. "Yes?"

I hesitated from my initial question. "Could you… make sure the painkillers are easy to get to? I might need more."

"Of course," he said, his eyes suddenly soft. "Don't worry about anything. We'll get to Carlisle in just a few hours, really. He'll know what to do."

I nodded. "Edward…"

"Yes, love?"

"If Carlisle can't do anything…" I trailed off.

His eyes grew hard again. "If—if—Carlisle can't do anything medically for you…" He paused, thoughtfully. "I won't let you die, Beau." The sudden fierceness in his voice, coupled with his admittance that I could die, startled me. "If I have to, if there's nothing else I can do to save you… I'll change you."

He turned and left the room, one big suitcase in each hand.

So that was it. I was sick, so sick that he had already had to grapple with the decision of whether or not to change me. He had thought about it and already resolved himself to do so. For him to be so sure, so certain that he would need to… That meant my mortal life was reaching its end.

I'd survived so much before. I'd faced death and escaped numerous times. But how do you run away from your own body failing you? It wasn't a homicidal tracker, a vengeful lover, or the might of the Volturi that was coming for me now. It was my own body giving up. Death itself had come to claim me.

I could let him change me. I could become like him. Hadn't I wanted it—to varying degrees—before? But now, with the reality of what that meant so clear before me I couldn't bring myself to accept it. I couldsurvive this, I could become like Edward and his family. But I would never see myfamily again, I would never see my friends again.

If I died of whatever this sickness was, my family could mourn that death. But if I became a vampire, my family would mourn and I would still be around—I would have to live with myself for all of eternity knowing the pain I put Charlie and Renée through and never being able to see them again. I couldn't live with that.

Thinking as quickly as my increasingly tired mind could manage, I grabbed Edward's phone that he'd left on the counter. It was very unlike him to forget things—forget that Gustavo was coming, to leave his phone lying here. He was so stressed he was barely himself.

I unlocked the phone and scrolled through the preprogrammed numbers. I was glad he had the sound turned off, afraid that he would catch me. Would he be at the boat now? Or back already? Would he hear me from the kitchen if I whispered?

I found the number I wanted, one I had never called before in my life. I pressed the "send" button and crossed my fingers.

"Hello?" the voice like golden bells answered.

"Royal?" I whispered. "It's Beau. Please. You have to help me."

I couldn't remember what else I said, the next thing I knew the world was going dark around me and I was falling.