wasn't marked as accurately then； for the mon people anyway。 It was
just before Cromwell's rule； though。〃
I kept my face posed； aware of his scrutiny as I listened。 It was
easier if I didn't try to believe。
〃He was the only son of an Anglican pastor。 His mother died giving birth
to him。 His father was an intolerant man。 As the Protestants came into
power； he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and
other religions。 He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil。
He led hunts for witches； werewolves… and vampires。〃 I grew very still at
the word。 I'm sure he noticed； but he went on without pausing。
〃They burned a lot of innocent people — of course the real creatures that
he sought were not so easy to catch。
〃When the pastor grew old； he placed his obedient son in charge of the
raids。 At first Carlisle was a disappointment； he was not quick to
accuse； to see demons where they did not exist。 But he was persistent；
and more clever than his father。 He actually discovered a coven of true
vampires that lived hidden in the sewers of the city； only ing out by
night to hunt。 In those days； when monsters were not just myths and
legends； that was the way many lived。
〃The people gathered their pitchforks and torches； of course〃 — his brief
laugh was darker now — 〃and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters
exit into the street。 Eventually one emerged。〃
His voice was very quiet； I strained to catch the words。
〃He must have been ancient； and weak with hunger。 Carlisle heard him call
out in Latin to the others when he caught the scent of the mob。 He ran
through the streets； and Carlisle — he was twentythree and very fast —
was in the lead of the pursuit。 The creature could have easily outrun
them； but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry； so he turned and attacked。
He fell on Carlisle first； but the others were close behind； and he
turned to defend himself。 He killed two men； and made off with a third；
leaving Carlisle bleeding in the street。〃
He paused。 I could sense he was editing something； keeping something from
me。
〃Carlisle knew what his father would do。 The bodies would be burned —
anything infected by the monster must be destroyed。 Carlisle acted
instinctively to save his own life。 He crawled away from the alley while
the mob followed the fiend and his victim。 He hid in a cellar； buried
himself in rotting potatoes for three days。 It's a miracle he was able to
keep silent； to stay undiscovered。
〃It was over then； and he realized what he had bee。〃
I'm not sure what my face was revealing； but he suddenly broke off。
〃How are you feeling？〃 he asked。
〃I'm fine；〃 I assured him。 And； though I bit my lip in hesitation； he
must have seen the curiosity burning in my eyes。
He smiled。 〃I expect you have a few more questions for me。〃
〃A few。〃
His smile widened over his brilliant teeth。 He started back down the
hall； pulling me along by the hand。 〃e on； then；〃 he encouraged。 〃I'll
show you。〃
===========================================================================
16。 CARLISLE
He led me back to the room that he'd pointed out as Carlisle's office。 He
paused outside the door for an instant。
〃e in；〃 Carlisle's voice invited。
Edward opened the door to a highceilinged room with tall； westfacing
windows。 The walls were paneled again； in a darker wood — where they were
visible。 Most of the wall space was taken up by towering bookshelves that
reached high above my head and held more books than I'd ever seen outside
a library。
Carlisle sat behind a huge mahogany desk in a leather chair。 He was just
placing a bookmark in the pages of the thick volume he held。 The room was
how I'd always imagined a college dean's would look — only Carlisle
looked too young to fit the part。
〃What can I do for you？〃 he asked us pleasantly； rising from his seat。
〃I wanted to show Bella some of our history；〃 Edward said。 〃Well； your
history； actually。〃
〃We didn't mean to disturb you；〃 I apologized。
〃Not at all。 Where are you going to start？〃
〃The Waggoner；〃 Edward replied； placing one hand lightly on my shoulder
and spinning me around to look back toward the door we'd just e
through。 Every time he touched me； in even the most casual way； my heart
had an audible reaction。 It was more embarrassing with Carlisle there。
The wall we faced now was different from the others。 Instead of
bookshelves； this wall was crowded with framed pictures of all sizes；
some in vibrant colors； others dull monochromes。 I searched for some
logic； some binding motif the collection had in mon； but I found
nothing in my hasty examination。
Edward pulled me toward the far left side； standing me in front of a
small square oil painting in a plain wooden frame。 This one did not stand
out among the bigger and brighter pieces； painted in varying tones of
sepia； it depicted a miniature city full of steeply slanted roofs； with
thin spires atop a few scattered towers。 A wide river filled the
foreground； crossed by a bridge covered with structures that looked like
tiny cathedrals。
〃London in the sixteenfifties；〃 Edward said。
〃The London of my youth；〃 Carlisle added； from a few feet behind us。 I
flinched； I hadn't heard him approach。 Edward squeezed my hand。
〃Will you tell the story？〃 Edward asked。 I twisted a little to see
Carlisle's reaction。
He met my glance and smiled。 〃I would；〃 he replied。 〃But I'm actually
running a bit late。 The hospital called this morning — Dr。 Snow is taking
a sick day。 Besides； you know the stories as well as I do；〃 he added；
grinning at Edward now。
It was a strange bination to absorb — the everyday concerns of the
town doctor stuck in the middle of a discussion of his early days in
seventeenthcentury London。
It was also unsettling to know that he spoke aloud only for my benefit。
After another warm smile for me； Carlisle left the room。
I stared at the little picture of Carlisle's hometown for a long moment。
〃What happened then？〃 I finally asked； staring up at Edward； who was
watching me。 〃When he realized what had happened to him？〃
He glanced back to the paintings； and I looked to see which image caught
his interest now。 It was a larger landscape in dull fall colors — an
empty； shadowed meadow in a forest； with a craggy peak in the distance。
〃When he knew what he had bee；〃 Edward said quietly； 〃he rebelled
against it。 He tried to destroy himself。 But that's not easily done。〃
〃How？〃 I didn't mean to say it aloud； but the word broke through my shock。
〃He jumped from great heights；〃 Edward told me； his voice impassive。 〃He
tried to drown himself in the ocean… but he was young to the new life；
and very strong。 It is amazing that he was able to resist… feeding… while
he was still so new。 The instinct is more powerful then； it takes over
everything。 But he was so repelled by himself that he had the strength to
try to kill himself with starvation。〃
〃Is that possible？〃 My voice was faint。
〃No； there are very few ways we can be killed。〃