Disclaimer: I am not Stephanie Meyer and therefore I do not own anything that has to do with her characters. I just enjoy perverting the hell out of them.

Chapter 5

I wasn't sure how long I was unconscious before the sound of knocking on my door woke me. Groaning, I slowly got up off the floor.

"I'm coming," I shouted, or at least tried to, as my voice came out more like a hoarse croak.

It took me close to a minute to make it the few feet that it was to my door. I fussed with the lock as my fingers didn't seem to want to work, before finally managing to successfully open it.

I opened my mouth upon seeing Rosalie on the other side, but she gasped.

"Bella, what the hell happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"There's dried blood on your face."

I frowned before spinning around and heading to my bathroom. My reflection in the mirror looked nothing like me. Instead, the wide eyes that stared at the stained splotches of brownish-red splattered across my cheeks, lips, chin, and down my neck were horrified. The reflection also showed skin that was at least two shades too white, rings under the eyes, and unnatural sallowness to the cheeks.

For a moment, I couldn't make sense of what I was looking at. Then I grabbed a rag, turned the sink on, and soaked it. The instant it was solidly drenched, I started scrubbing on my face, forcing a redness into my skin even as I washed off the stains of blood.

"Seriously, sis, what the fuck is going on? There's enough blood on your living room carpet that a person might think someone died out there."

I sighed, setting my rag on the counter before I turned to look at Rosalie.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure what happened, okay?"

"How do you not know? There's no way you could have bled like that and not felt it."

I looked away from her prying eyes. "I was talking to the dead last night, and I decided to see if I could bring enough magic to bear so I could touch the ghost. I remember getting lightheaded... and then I'm guessing I lost consciousness."

Rosalie stared at me in more than mild horror for several seconds before she finally managed to splutter, "And just who the hell were you talking to that you would take such a risk?"

"No one important," I said immediately.

"You're telling me you used enough power that it almost killed you for no one? What the fuck? WHY?"

I flinched. "Look, I don't think it's that bad. You're making a big deal out of nothing. Aside from being a little achy this morning, thanks to spending the night on the floor, I'm fine."

"Out of nothing? OUT OF NOTHING!" She grabbed me by the arm and yanked me into the main space of my apartment, spinning me to look at the living room. "Does that look like nothing to you!"

I looked down at the living room carpet, seeing the dark stain of blood for the first time. I swallowed. "Well, it looks like I'm going to have to replace my carpet."

"Don't even make a joke about this. Now tell me who you tried to kill yourself over."

I sighed. "I was talking to Edward, alright?"

The instant it was out of my mouth, I regretted it, but for the first time since Edward had died, there was no sense in the back of my head telling me to keep my mouth shut. Something was different. It took me a moment to realize that the difference was the gaping hole in my psyche – the hole that was normally plugged because I could always sense him.

"What do you mean you were talking to Edward? How? Since when?"

"I've always been able to communicate with him, Rose," I said as I turned and headed back into my bathroom, grabbing my bath towel from the towel rack and soaking it in cold water.

I didn't need to look in the mirror to know my big sister was right behind me. She was close enough that I could feel her.

"What do you mean you've always been able to communicate with him? Why on earth have you never mentioned this before? How do our parents not know this? How was I not aware of this? Just what is going on here?"

I shook my head in exasperation as I took the sopping wet towel, passed her, and headed back to the living room to drop it on the bloody carpet. Then I took the two more steps necessary to sink onto my couch.

"I killed him using my necromancy, Rose. It tied his spirit to mine. That's why mom and dad have never been able to contact him. It's not because he found peace, as our parents assumed. Instead, he's tied solely to me."

"You created a splinter plane. That's dark magic, Bella – some of the blackest that there is. And the fact that you've been keeping it a secret means you damn well know it."

"There are those who claim any form of necromancy is black."

"We know better, but what you're talking about..." Rosalie broke off, swallowing hard. "Bella, tell me you didn't do it on purpose."

"Which part? The killing him? The linking my soul with his? The refusing to let him go? Or, and this is my favorite one, the never telling my parents or any of my older siblings?"

"I'd say all of them, but I have the sinking suspicion based on the fact that you were able to make a list that the answer is you did it all on purpose."

I looked at my big sister. "No, I didn't, at least not in the front of my head. But you were there when Edward used to push me around. You probably remember the broken bones, black eyes, and bruises better than even I do. He and I did not get along. So, on some level, when I pushed him with everything I had – which includes my powers – did I want it to end in the result that it did?" I stopped talking as I stared Rosalie in the eyes.

Finally, after several moments with no reply from her, I lifted my shoulders ever so slightly. "Maybe. I don't know. I've asked myself that question more than a million times, and I still don't have the answer. As for the rest... I was eight, I didn't even know it was possible to connect his soul with mine in such a way. The thing is, I was scared, and by the time I started seriously contemplating talking to mom and dad, I was too ashamed to admit it."

"And you aren't going to tell them now, are you?"

"It's been thirteen years. Can you imagine how dad would react? How mom would? No, I can't tell them, at least not until I find a way to bring him back. Once I can find a way to revive him so that he's actually alive and well, then... Then I can tell them. Because then even if they decide to punish me, the necromancy can still continue. It'll be a few years before Sasha's old enough, but that's a minimal issue."

Rosalie leaned against my rickety end table as she crossed her arms over her chest. "You think mom and dad will kill you?"

"It's what Helen and Beaufort did to Mercedes, and you know the history of our ancestors as well as I do. We police our own. We have to. Can you imagine what the government would do if they knew that beings like necromancers existed? Besides, once someone starts dabbling in black magic, the urge is always there. What did you just call what I did?" I gave her a couple of seconds, but she remained stonily silent. "The blackest there is, I do believe."

"I'm not a necromancer, Bella, so I don't know what I'm talking about. You can't use my words against me."

"Fine, I spoke with Mercedes yesterday evening. She called what I did spirit magic, and proceeded to imply that it was quite dark. She is a necromancer, or at least was one when she was alive."

"As you just pointed out, she's not necessarily the most reliable source given that our great-grandparents were forced to put her down when she went crazy. It was my understanding they even forced her soul to an alternate plane so she could never find peace with Brooker."

"They did. Not that it stops me from communicating with her."

"Bella, I'm not going to allow our parents to put you down just because you did something by accident as a kid."

I pointedly looked at her. "Bringing him back won't be by accident."

"Mom and dad have helped to revive a couple of people in their day, they won't –"

"Yes, they gave a child or two who died before their time a second chance at life, but that was within hours of their death. It's not the same. I'm either going to need a freshly dead body to stuff his soul into – a non-human body, as Mercedes has informed me – or I'm going to need to find a way to bring enough magic forward to fully structure a physical body. The first would probably mean I'd have to kill whoever I used, and after last night's experiment, I'm not sure I have the power to do the second."

Rosalie frowned, opening her mouth briefly before shutting it without saying anything.

"Of course, that's assuming I can even still communicate with Edward," I muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't sense him, currently. I've never not been able to sense him."

"What? Why?"

"I'm assuming I've short-circuited my gift by trying to do too much last night. At least, that's what I'm hoping. Still, I'm worried."

"Okay, so last night, you used your power to do what with him, precisely?"

"I used my gift to make him corporal. He's always with me, you see, so he heard when Mercedes told me what it would take for me to bring him back. He wanted me to give up. The idea of me murdering someone was appalling to him. He said he wouldn't let me become a killer. So I tried to show him that there was another way. Ironically, I think if he was alive, he and I together would probably be able to come up with enough power to do what I was trying."

Rosalie frowned. "You're not a murderer. You know that, right?"

"Aren't I?"