A/N: Nope, I'm not dead (yet)! My last posted chapter was almost a year ago—what a hiatus. And for that, I only have one thing to say—I'm sorry. I know I haven't been the best at keeping this story up to date (to say the least) but life in college has been keeping me very busy, especially my major. But now that it's the summer break (despite my taking summer classes) I feel comfortable enough to resume writing again. Plus, I ironed out some of the plot points I wanted to incorporate—I wasn't sure how to continue this story, which attributed to my long break—and even more (potentially) good ideas for the near future. To be honest, I don't know where this story will lead or end (because I don't even know what the ending is) but that's a bridge we'll burn once we cross it. Once more, I urge you to look for grammatical errors and mistakes (as I am a amateur writer) and feel free to leave a review (either good or bad). See you next time!

(Posted 7/22/2018)

Chapter 18: Gifted

A drop of rain splashed against the spiny leaf of a nearby fern, shattering into thousands of minuscule droplets as Carlisle and I swiftly trekked through the serene forest. We were shadowed by the four shapeshifters, who gave us a wide berth trailing behind. We ran at a relaxed, casual pace—like taking a stroll through the park, except our speed was easily along the lines of sixty miles per hour. The only sounds that gave us away while we ghosted through the dense woods were the heavy pants and heartbeats of the wolves, accompanied by our steady breathing. It was strangely pleasant.

That silence was soon broken by Carlisle's soft-spoken anecdote surrounding the current "border" situation that currently exists between their territory and the wolves as a result of some old treaty. His explanation was briefly marked by the departure of the wolves upon reaching said invisible border, which I'd quickly memorized, but other than that, there were no interruptions. I listened intently as he went over his story, internally noting any important details for future reference.

"So you actually met the same wolves from that many years ago? Huh. Talk about real-estate depreciation. What are the odds?" I mumbled to myself.

He laughed quietly. "Slim to none, in fact. I believe they are completely different wolves from the ones I'd originally encountered."

"What makes you think that?" I asked, genuinely curious.

His expression suddenly became pensive, matching that of a person engrossed in scientific inquiry. "The unique color of their fur—none of the wolves I have met matches with the ones from my memory. I also haven't seen any recent signs of the original wolves. Therefore, they must be passing some sort of genetic trait that allows them to transform into the future generation, thus granting a guaranteed number of wolves to exist when the previous generation dies," he elaborated, amber eyes flashing with excitement.

The wolves were more rooted into this specific region than I'd originally thought. This might prove to be a problem—but seeing how none of my family have ever even heard of these animals, despite their vast amount of resources and influence, they must be secretive as well. Or they're just good at killing vampires. Which, I wasn't sure what my stance was on, nor the Volturi's—they weren't really werewolves, per se, but they were still capable of posing a legitimate threat against us. Or, specifically, any lone vampire that unwittingly wandered through their territory.

"Of course, you have to take my explanation with a grain of salt—it's just a theory grounded in personal experience," Carlisle cautioned, oblivious to my inner musings.

It was certainly a proposal I'd never heard of—once I refocused on what he was talking about—werewolves that passed the ability to transform through what I assumed to be human means, rather than infecting via a bite like a traditional werewolf. Would every human these wolves mated with result in an offspring that carried the werewolf gene, resulting in a population explosion? The prospect was sobering. Also, what triggers the human to transform? Did they do so in their youth, teenage, or adult years? All these unanswered questions left a bitter taste in my mouth. Obviously, the Volturi would need to look further into these matters. But for now, as long as they did not intend to reveal their true nature or that of the Cullens, they were allowed to live. Plus, as much as I felt capable in my ability to hold my own against their pack, I didn't feel comfortable without at least bringing along some backup—Felix and Demetri, for starters.

"It's a compelling theory," I complimented after a moment of silence. "One that is certainly possible. Have you considered testing it or committing to more observation?"

Carlisle managed a short, subdued chuckle. "Unfortunately, I have my own personal doubts about it. And I'd prefer to maintain the relatively peaceful relationship I have with the Quileutes. I don't believe Sam would appreciate any attempts to prove it by putting them under the microscope, so to speak."

"Relatively peaceful?" I asked, concerned.

He frowned to himself. "Yes. There were some… disagreements at first when the Quileutes discovered Alice was living with us."

Ah. The human-conscious werewolves weren't thrilled to find out that Alice was living with the Cullens? What a shocker.

"About that—how did a human wind up being protected by a coven of vampires?" I wondered.

Carlisle laughed to himself. "I'm afraid you're going to have to ask her yourself," he said, still chuckling. That was when I noticed we had already reached the outer fringes of his hidden house. "I do not wish to violate her trust, and besides, she can provide the more intricate details if she so chooses." It was at that moment that we broke through the thick, tall layer of plant growth that meticulously outlined the perfect perimeter, filling in the gaps between the skyscraper-like trees—it was clear someone was maintaining it.

"I suppose that's only fair," I agreed.

Edward was patiently standing still outside on the porch with a slightly fearful Alice right next to him. She wore a yellow raincoat with the hood pulled up, whereas Edward's donned a more casual attire. Alice appeared out of place in this overly-green environment—it was too bright, too cheerful.

Being surrounded by massive wolves and the abhorrent aromas they produced had definitely desensitized me to human blood. Her chocolatey fragrance, captivating and delicious, smashed into my face like a freight train as soon as I'd caught a whiff of it wafting through the air, marred slightly by Edward's scent. My feet automatically stopped and my hands balled into fists as the smell of human blood sent my mouth watering and reminded me of how hungry I was.

I sighed internally.

Now that we were back in relative safety, I realized the fight with the werewolves had taken more out of me than I'd expected—I was mentally exhausted. Who knew being chased by and dueling by horse-sized wolves would be tiring? However, I forced myself to continue trudging and refused to let thirst take advantage of my weary mind and weaken my composure—I was stronger than that. But I was still vaguely aware of my empty stomach as I relaxed and unclenched my fists. Swallowing down the venom that pooled in my mouth didn't exactly help, either.

"Greetings, Edward and Alice," I said upon reaching the two, acknowledging them with a deliberate nod and small smile.

"Welcome back," Edward replied with curiosity, having seen me falter for a split second, while Alice stayed silent. "Were you able to help Sam?" he inquired, turning slightly to face Carlisle.

The good doctor nodded cheerfully. "Yes, once he shifted back to human again, I was able to reset the fractured femur and fit a brace so it heals properly." He then frowned to himself. "I'll have to make another visit sometime soon, though, as something is preventing his system from healing at the usual nominal rate. I wonder if the morphine I gave him had any effect, or if the high temperature…." he trailed off, absorbed in his own thoughts, as his eyebrows pulled together in concentration.

Edward rolled his eyes, mildly amused. "We can check up on him in an hour of you'd prefer."

Carlisle blinked, returning back to his senses, then smiled widely again. "I'd greatly appreciate the company, thank you."

I slowly spun around to address the two vampires engrossed in their own conversation. "Will you excuse us please?" I requested cordially—I wanted to ask Alice some questions. Edward and Carlisle exchanged looks with her, gauging her reaction for an answer.

"Of course," Edward smoothly replied, glancing back to the blonde vampire and disappearing into the house together.

It was eerily quiet as we stood still, save for her beating heart, as if the forest was seemingly holding its breath in anticipation—a predator was alone with its prey. "Hello again, Alice," I said once I'd gathered my thoughts, breaking the silence first, being mindful not to show too much of my teeth.

Each inhale of air was pure pain.

She looked tense—her body was rigid with stress. "Hi, Bella," Alice mumbled shyly, stiffly shifting her weight onto one of her legs—the way she said my name prefaced the fear that welled within her.

Was she purposely trying to tempt me? In those two little words, she'd blown her unadulterated scent straight into my face, where I could taste her on the tip of my tongue….

I gestured for her to start walking toward the open lawn with a sweeping motion of my arm before I think of doing anything stupid. Her heart thudded a little bit faster as she hastily stepped off the porch and strode across the immense clearing while I trailed noiselessly behind. She was abnormally graceful for a human—I never noticed until now. I randomly wondered if she took dancing lessons.

God, she smelled good.

We finally stopped near the edge of the lawn, a few dozen feet away from the house. At least it gave the illusion of privacy—I suspected the Cullens would be listening in, either out of curiosity or for her safety's sake. Not that they could do anything regardless.

Alice played with her fingers, twisting them against each other, her eyes glued down to the glossy black rain boots that covered her small feet. Nervous.

I drew a fiery breath. "Edward tells me you have the ability to see into the future. That's quite a unique gift," I began straight to the point as my thoughts flashed back to the memory.

"Thanks, Edward," she muttered under her breath, instantly becoming horrified when she realized she said that aloud.

There was a low, throaty chortle that I immediately identified as Emmett which originated from inside the house, but other than that, there were no noises from any of the other Cullens.

I had to laugh just a little—simply because her expression of horror was quite endearing. She obviously has never seen true horror. "I wouldn't worry about it, Alice. He still would've heard the words in your head," I reminded.

A small blush rapidly spread throughout her dainty cheeks, accompanied by an intensification of her mouthwatering scent. I tried ignoring it by quickly shifting my focus on asking her questions.

"So," I continued a little too quickly, as if the little interruption never happened. "Would you mind indulging me on how your gift works?"

Alice finally glanced up, her dark hazel eyes staring right at me, indifferent to the light drizzle of rain that had begun and splashed her face. She'd turned her body enough so that we were opposite of each other. The mist dewed up on the impermeable outer layer of her jacket and eventually rolled along her body down toward the ground, overcome with its own weight.

I stood patiently for her to start talking, but Alice remained quiet; she seemed distracted, and her eyes had a faraway look to them. I arched an eyebrow up at her, shooting her a quizzical look.

"I'm not really sure how it works," Alice suddenly blurted out, her blush deepening further—which was a peculiar reaction. She momentarily closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself. She opened them and looked at me.

"I get these random images or… or visions of something happening—kinda like watching a scene from an unfamiliar movie, but instead, it's playing in my head. Sometimes, they're out of focus and hard to see, and other times they're clear as day," she explained in a single exhale; her soprano voice quavered at times when she spoke.

It was difficult to comprehend—and believe—that such a gift existed, not to mention the unmistakable fact she was still human. Unsurprisingly, I drew parallels to the nearly-identical position that Alice currently faced—being human, having a unique capability that already began manifesting itself, and meeting a coven of vampires. The potential and possibilities and that would be unlocked if she were to join the Volturi—I pondered what Aro would think. I was absolutely certain that he'd be delighted to meet her. Speaking of which, it was beyond a shadow of a doubt that Alice would offer an unparalleled advantage to the Volturi as another addition to the vast arsenal of unique gifts if she became one of us. The question remained, however, and it was rather important, was if she wanted to join.

Of course, there was always the chance that her gift wouldn't directly correlate and develop when she turned, but judging by the way it was already influencing her, my doubts were infinitesimal.

On a side note, I noticed there was something evidently troubling Alice—frightening her. She seemed afraid—and I couldn't perceive whether it was due to the unknowns about her gift, or my mere presence, or some wholly different other reason. If she were to become a vampire, however, I'd wager most of her fears would greatly diminish, along with petty human worries, and she'd be able to concentrate on understanding her visions and their implications. Granted, I couldn't blame her for being scared—her gift wasn't comparable to anything I've heard of. It defied 'normal' expectations—if predicting gifts could have a sense of normality.

I inhaled again, and I wondered if standing in the middle of a burning forest had the same effect. I didn't think so. This had to be worse.

"And that's how you realized I was being attacked?" I resumed. My inner reflection had taken all but two seconds—barely noticable.

Alice managed a humorless smile. "I didn't actually see you being attacked. I wasn't even trying to look for you—I only knew something was wrong when you appeared in my head for a split second, then disappeared from my vision." She then glowered toward the forest. "But I suspected the wolves were involved. And I was right." Just a hint of disdain on the word wolves.

I couldn't hide my grin. She didn't like those wolves either. "How'd you figure that?"

Her eyebrows pulled together in concentration, and again, she stared right into my eyes without immediately looking away—which was abnormal for a human. "I tried focusing on you after getting that glimpse, but all I was getting were… flashes—sort of like brief images—and one of them had a wolf in it," she explained matter-of-factly.

"That's extraordinary." I had to give her some credit—her gift was beyond unique, it was something I'd never remotely heard of despite the Volturi's extensive history.

She glowered at the ground absentmindedly. "Extraordinarily bad luck," she mumbled quietly to herself, and I frowned internally. Did she view her gift as a liability, then? Or did she mean something else? I always saw my own as a woven, integral part of my being—something that could be trained to provide an edge rather than an annoyance.

I made a note to myself about her reaction, and resumed my inquiry. "When did you realize you had this gift?"

"I've had it for as long as I can remember," said Alice.

I found myself getting used to the burn in my throat. The flames didn't lessen each time I drew a breath, but it was slowly becoming more tolerable. The distraction of asking her questions certainly helped.

"What about your human family? Do they know of your ability?"

She visibly flinched. "Yes."

In that brief answer, I could hear unmistakable sadness in her inflection. And, strangely enough, I felt an impulsive urge to reach out and reassure her, to hold her by the shoulders and say everything was going to be okay. This caught me off guard—I never usually had these types of thoughts. Perhaps it was some innate pity reaction—my human instincts were being dredged up and brought to the forefront of my mind because I was spending so much time with her.

"What's wrong?" I probed, curious for more details. Again, strangely enough, my voice automatically became gentler without conscious decision.

"A lot of things," she sighed wearily and her shoulders slumped forward, like she was suddenly very tired. She rolled her weight onto the opposite leg and turned to examine a massive Douglas fir nearby, its leaves glistening with water like crystals. "My family being one of them."

"If they know about vampires, I can solve your problem rather easily," I offered quite bluntly. And I would if they did know regardless—the law is the law. Anyways, a few vampires and a human wasn't remotely enough to stop me.

Her eyes flashed to my face. "No! Of course they don't know," Alice squeaked frightfully. "Besides, they—they don't know where I am."

"Your family don't know about the fact you're living with a coven?" I asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

She shook her head. "I haven't seen any of them in over a year," she said quietly. "And I… didn't necessarily tell them where I was heading." The subdued dejection behind her voice was clear as day.

I made an effort to soften my voice again. "Where are they now?"

"Biloxi." Upon the look of confusion I gave her, she clarified her response. "It's in Mississippi."

Her answer took me off guard. Though my knowledge of the geography of the United States was rudimentary, I knew that Mississippi was far. Much further away than I'd imagined from our current location. And assuming that Alice left Biloxi, she would've nearly traveled the entire diagonal length of the country. Quite a remarkable feat, especially if she was travelling alone.

"And you're sure they aren't aware of the existence of vampires?" I inquired seriously, making sure I guarded once again—none of the surprise I felt from before leaked into my question.

"Yes, I promise. I know the law. And I only met the Cullens a few months ago, long after I left."

I nodded slowly, accepting her answer—it was clear she was telling the truth. It wasn't like she had much to gain by lying; on the other hand, she had so much more to lose if she did. And, being a vampire usually meant that we were excellent at discerning between honesty and dishonesty—with our incredible sense of hearing, we could pick up on miniscule speech and voice patterns.

I moved onto the next question I had in mind. "Do you miss them—your human family?"

"No, not really—except my sister," she faintly corrected herself, becoming even more glum.

Frustratingly, for some indiscernible reason, I felt another unusual urge to try and cheer her up, possibly because I was sympathetic to her situation, having been through something similar of my own. This conversation was clearly making her upset. And seeing how I've already strained my new relationship with the Cullens, I decided to change the subject. I didn't want to provoke them any further with my interrogation.

"But at least you have the Cullens," I reminded lightly. For the first time since we'd began talking, she smiled—an actual, genuine smile that made her look like she was beaming. She seemed completely different—she had the appearance of a person with a sincere sense of happiness. Seeing this change in demeanor involuntarily elicited a small grin from myself as well. "Speaking from personal experience, with a close-knit coven like yours, you feel like family to one another."

"I know. I'm lucky to have such a caring group of people look after me," she answered honestly, the relief and gratitude just in the mere pitch of her voice was almost palpable. It revealed how close she had become with the Cullens, and how comfortable she was around them.

"They're vegetarians, too. That's a plus. You don't have to worry about them trying to drink your blood—only the rest of us," I joked.

Alice, to my surprise, rolled her eyes at me. "Good thing I have my cross and garlic ready," she muttered sarcastically. Just a hint of steel in her inflection. I had to smirk a little at her response. She was a bit defensive of her vampires—I definitely understood and related to that specific train of thought.

I felt a sense of relief that Alice had slowly but surely grown more comfortable around me, having relaxed her former tense posture. She was willing to be herself—evidenced by how she rolled her eyes at me, of all people. If she were frightened, she wouldn't have expressed her emotions in such an open fashion, would she? I gathered it was a shaky, hesitant form of trust, if I could even call it that, but it was developing.

"So, Carlisle told me that there were 'disagreements' with the Quileutes about you living amongst the Cullens. Would you care to elaborate?"

Alice winced reflexively. "They… weren't too thrilled to find out that I was living with—" she had difficulty saying the word "—vampires. Flat out opposed it, actually," she admitted.

The corners of my mouth turned down. "What'd they do?" I asked evenly.

"Nothing, nothing," Alice quickly tried to persuade in a nonchalant manner, which only served to arouse my suspicion further. She bit her lip and confessed once she saw my expression. "Um. They may have threatened me and the Cullens—but only a little," she hastily amended, as if that would lessen the severity of the situation.

I stared up at the ominous-looking sky, thinking. While doing so, a quick observation of the collection of dense dark-gray clouds led me to believe it was going to rain soon. "Hmm. It appears we have a real nuisance on our hands." I glanced back at Alice. "Well, my hands at least," I corrected.

"Please don't hurt them," she pleaded. "They're not bad. They want to—" she struggled to find the right words "—protect people… and preserve human life from vampires at any cost."

This wild werewolf population was more troublesome than I could've ever imagined. I'd accepted the fact that these abnormal wolves killed vampires. It seemed like a natural-born part of their pack instinct—however natural hunting mythical creatures could be.

However, it bothered me more than I'd care to admit that—if what Alice said was true, and I saw no obvious reason to doubt her—these wolves were harassing the Cullens, Alice included. I only held this sentimentality because of the Cullens' passive lifestyle. Sure, with traditional vampires, I could understand all bets were off. But upon meeting Carlisle, it was glaringly apparent that he was compassionate toward humans, going so far to argue he was a pacifist of sorts—he worked in a human hospital as a doctor, around open cuts and blood, to help mend their frail, weak bodies if that wasn't enough irrefutable proof.

On the other hand, I couldn't necessarily blame the wolves entirely for their behavior. It was entirely possible that loathing vampires was somehow ingrained in their genetics, though I must admit that my theory did not seem all that likely. A semi-unconscious hatred appeared a lot more promising—the revolting scent that they gave off that heavily affected me could imply I reciprocated in the same fashion, and thus we both had an instinctive mutual dislike for each other. It reminded me of the psychological theory of food aversion among humans—a bad memory with a particular piece of food while young often led to a lifetime of avoidance; the same concept could be applied. It was safe to say that these wolves believed it was their duty to protect themselves and humans from my kind. And I suspected the only reason they allowed the Cullens to be so close to their home was due to their "vegetarian" lifestyle.

I blinked myself out of my internal monologue. Thankfully, the entire thought process only took a few seconds, and I didn't think Alice noticed.

"Have they harmed any of you?" I continued my interrogation like an officer upon learning of a serious infraction.

"No, of course not. They're not stupid enough to attack us while our numbers are at a close stalemate." Alice suddenly realized something important that she had revealed. "You're not thinking of changing that, are you?" she warily interjected.

As much as I would love to teach those disgusting wolves some lessons in manners and break the current numerical impasse, I didn't want to do it alone, even with all the Cullens by my side. It wasn't that I didn't trust their fighting capabilities—I'm sure they're competent—but it was more so that I didn't want to wipe out the indigenous werewolf population without first consulting my family and the guard. Plus, they'd miss out on all the fun if we did go through with it.

I sighed heavily. "Ultimately, the decision to intervene isn't up to me. It's up to the consultation of my family, mainly Aro. I'm just debating whether or not to inform him of my discoveries once I return to Volterra, or risk having them discover the wolves themselves. Which, in that case, could mean consequences for not telling them beforehand. And they are killing vampires, Alice. My family doesn't exactly tolerate werewolves murdering our kind. Caius despises them," I chuckled darkly.

"Don't tell them then," Alice suggested cheerfully, unabashed. "Let them figure it out on their own."

I arched one of my eyebrows upward, incredulous. "Are you trying to convince me to circumvent the law?" A muted but menacing growl rumbled from my chest, causing her to take two immediate automatic steps back. "Because that would be a really bad idea." I bared my teeth just a little.

Of course, I was still in control of myself. I only wanted to toy with Alice a little by scaring her. She really didn't believe that I would personally break the law, did she?

The human in question swallowed loudly. "Umm—" she stammered, heart pounding wildly "—forget I said anything."

Despite feeling a bit guilty, I still laughed lightly at her terrified expression. "It's alright, Alice, calm down. I wasn't planning to tell them anyway—I believe this issue can be amiably solved without requiring their involvement," I hurriedly reassured and upon hearing this, she made a face directed at me—an almost imperceivable mixture of annoyance and anger. Of course, it was rightfully deserved for scaring her too much.

"Although," I continued, my voice shifting abruptly from amusement to absolute seriousness. "If it doesn't, it may result in some of my friends coming down for a nice visit. But that's worse-case scenario."

"I hope not," Alice mumbled to herself.

"What? You're not at all eager to meet my Volturi friends?" I teased, clearly feigning hurt in my appearance. In the back of my mind, the reference to my coven reminded me of something that I'd wished to ask her earlier.

"Not really, no," she deadpanned.

"Even if you become one of us?" I offered.

Alice blinked in shock several times. "What?" Surprise colored her tone.

"Would you consider joining the Volturi? Your gift would be an irreplaceable and invaluable asset to us once it fully develops."

A muted hiss in protest—I couldn't tell who it came from—rang sharply from the house and quickly died away. I ignored it, and focused my attention on scrutinizing the human standing in front of me. Waiting.

Alice's hazel eyes widened with bewilderment and fear, then darted around as if she was searching for something, clearly avoiding my gaze. "Umm…." She understandably hesitated and bit her lip, deliberating.

I gave her an apathetic shrug. "You don't have to make a decision right now. It's an open invitation."

Alice chewed her bottom lip some more and studied at her boots before answering. "Thank you, but no thank you," she managed in her soprano voice rather firmly—but politely, too—and stared straight up at me.

I ducked my head in resignation. "That's a shame. We would have truly enjoyed your company. Ah well, perhaps you'll change your mind once you have the opportunity to think about it in your free time. This offer is not something to be taken lightly."

"Sure," Alice replied unconvincingly.

I certainly had taken enough time away from Alice and the Cullens with my lengthy interview, though I was glad to have done it. I gleaned a myriad of crucial details that would be beneficial to reference in the near future. Plus, this face-to-face opportunity allowed me to gauge Alice and further build upon her character.

Aro will be pleased about this "once-in-a-lifetime" discovery, as I'm sure he'll call it—however, given that vampires are immortal and all that, it was more luck of finding such a gift than anything else.

"Shall we?" I signaled for us to return by looking pointedly at the pale, rectangular house.

Alice nodded gratefully and, at long last, we started our walk back. I could tell we'd been standing still for a while—her strides were stiff-legged, as if she was just regaining the sense of feeling back.

Without warning, a mellow breeze unexpectedly blew downwind in our direction from the forest and with it, carried several new, unfamiliar smells—and they were undoubtedly vampire. Oh shit.

"Get behind me," I fiercely ordered and instead of waiting for a reply, shoved her as gently as I could manage without breaking her arms like twigs closer to my heels. In that same second, I threw my shield outward and quickly morphed it into a balloon, enveloping us both in its protective properties.

Alice's heart stuttered with surprise—I swear, the poor girl was going to suffer a heart attack at some point and I wasn't helping the situation—and rapidly accelerated. "What's going on?" she trilled as I automatically scanned my surroundings.

I could feel her human body emanating its pleasant warmth and coupled with her irresistible chocolate scent, it threatened to overpower me. Distracting. I calmly cleared my head. My cool composure and focus reflected years of exposure to Volturi efficiency and appearance.

"I don't know yet. But I can smell a few vampires coming our way," I curtly whispered under my breath back. Remember, the wind had shifted course and prefaced the potential dangers by bringing the scent through the woods ahead of the actual source.

I didn't have to wait long. Four pairs of feet briskly ran toward us and they were trailing behind somebody swinging from tree to tree approximately twenty feet high off the ground. To my knowledge, they didn't know where we were, or that they'd been discovered; they stayed true to their original course, a few degrees to the right of my current bearing, which meant they would emerge about ten feet away once they reached the lawn.

A blonde vampire with a hint of red in her hair, similar to that of strawberry, somersaulted through the air like a rocket and landed perfectly on her feet with a muffled thud. She spun around to meet the remaining four vampires emerging from the forest with a triumphant smile but stopped halfway once she noticed Alice and I standing motionless nearby and swiftly sank into a defensive crouch.

Her lips curled back, flashing her pearly white teeth, and glared right at me.

What startled me were her golden eyes.

A/N: Ah, you made it! Yeah, this chapter was focused more on Bella's interrogation of Alice and the implications of her gift—a relatively short chapter. But I wonder who the new vampires are? (Hint: it's pretty obvious). Also, I wonder what will happen with a certain former Volturi vampire and Bella?