Sorry about the enormous delay, I had an awful lot of trouble writing this chapter. I hope there are still some people reading this.

Chapter Twelve: Charlie's Death and Afterlife

Edward's Point of View

Charlie's eyes bored into mine. Although I could read no expression in them, I knew enough to understand that it wasn't because he was calm. Far from it: there was a storm brewing behind those unreadable eyes that was almost tangible. Before I could speak, before I could even look away, I felt a powerful force reach out and wrap its tendrils around my mind. It was similar to the sensation I had felt during Bella's flood of memories in the forest, but instead of having something forced into my mind, I was being pulled into someone else's. I had time to wonder whether this was a talent particular to Bella's family before I was drawn into Charlie's mind and his memories.

I recognised what used to be Bella's kitchen.

Charlie sat at the table, staring fixedly at a newspaper. His eyes were unmoving and the expression he wore was far too grave for the sports section. He sipped at his hitherto untouched mug of coffee, grimaced when he realised it was cold, and glanced at his watch. Glowering, he heaved himself out of his seat and reached for the phone. I recognised the numbers he punched in as Renée's.

"Hi," he said awkwardly after a pause of a few seconds. "Sorry to bother you, but-"

He fell silent as Renée interrupted him. I couldn't decipher her words, but her frantic tone was all too evident.

"No, it's nothing like that," he hurried to reassure her. "She hasn't been out of her room all day. Do you think I should check on her? I don't want her to feel crowded, but…"

He trailed off, letting the concern in his voice speak for itself. Renée's relieved laugh echoed down the phone, and this time I heard her say that a teenage girl locking herself in her bedroom was perfectly normal behaviour. I glanced at the shaft of sunlight filtering through the curtains and felt for the first time that something was wrong. It was the rich, warm light of a sunset. Bella wasn't the type of girl to hide in her room for a whole day. Even if she was sad or ill, she would emerge at least a couple of times to reassure Charlie that she was feeling better than she truly was.

Charlie clearly felt the same way because he scowled and said, "But Bell's never been a normal teenage girl, has she?" He dropped his voice to a murmur, as if afraid of being overheard. "She's been acting strangely all week. Not like that, not like before. She's really come out of herself ever since she started hanging round with Jake, but the-"

Renée's excited voice broke in, inquiring about the possibility of romance. Despite knowing that the man in question had gone on to marry and have a child with someone else, and despite having no right to Bella's love, having abandoned her to Victoria, I felt an unreasonable stab of jealousy.

"I don't know," said Charlie, clearly frustrated with Renée's inattention. "What I'm trying to tell you is she's seemed – I don't know – almost scared for the past few days."

If my heart hadn't stopped beating decades before it would have frozen. Of course Bella was scared; she was being hunted by a vampire bent on revenge. Was I witnessing a scene from the last hours of her mortal life? Engulfed by panic, I missed Renée's response.

"You're probably right," said Charlie self consciously. "I'll leave her be. She'll come out when she's ready. Thanks for your help."

Charlie replaced the receiver and made to resume his seat at the table. He paused, staring at his newspaper and then at the doorway, clearly torn between whether to follow Renée's advice and leave Bella alone and his desire to make sure that she was alright. Against all reason I wanted him to check on her, but I also knew that there was no changing the past and Bella couldn't be saved. If this was the memory of the day of her 'death' then what awaited Charlie in her room would only cause him pain.

His instinct that something was wrong won through and he climbed the stairs. He tapped lightly on Bella's door and received no reply.

"Bella?" he called quietly. "Can I come in?"

Still no reply. He knocked louder and called again, "Bella?"

When his only answer was continuing silence, he pushed open the door.

The scene was worse than I could possibly have imagined and, in my need to punish myself, I had forced myself to picture this moment in minute detail time after time. The bed sheets were soaked in blood, more blood than a human could lose and possibly survive without being rushed to a hospital. Some of them had been torn into strips and tied to the bedposts; I realised with an icy stab of horror that they had been used to bind Bella. At the foot of the bed, almost unrecognisable, was one of her shirts, mangled and bloodied.

Meeting Bella had incalculably increased the depth of my emotions. Loving her was ecstasy, the closest I would ever come to knowing something divine. But with this joy came a violent grief at her pain and at being parted from her. After leaving Forks, hiding from my family, no longer knowing or even caring what country I was in, I had known that the agony of a hundred transformations was little compared to my suffering at our separation. Standing at her graveside, I realised that before that moment I hadn't known true pain.

Witnessing the scene of her torture and the end of her mortal life surpassed everything that had come before. The pain was physical: it began in the pit of my stomach and seeped upwards until its icy fingers were wrapped around my throat and I was choking. I was certain that I could not survive it. I had to get out of this terrible memory. I had to wrap my arms around Bella, look into those black eyes that seemed almost ancient, and reassure myself that although I could no longer hear the steady thud of her heart she was still alive.

Then I saw Charlie's face.

He didn't weep. He didn't flinch. He didn't even cry for help. He merely stood, too frozen to sway even an inch. But in his face I saw the realisation of fears he hadn't conjured in his darkest nightmares. I had thought, stupidly, selfishly, that no one could match my grief at Bella's death, that no one's sorrow could surpass mine. But in Charlie's memory I witnessed the irrevocable breaking of a man's heart, and I knew why he was forcing these images into my mind. Somehow he had learned that I had abandoned Bella, that I had left her to Victoria's mercy, and this was my punishment.

I no longer thought of leaving. I deserved this.

The scene melted away and the bedroom was replaced with a cemetery. A small group of people clustered around an open grave. I picked out Mike, Angela and Jessica amongst some teenagers from school, Renée leaning heavily against a man who I presumed was her husband, and finally, his face an unreadable sheet of rock, Charlie. His eyes were dry, and I knew, whether from instinct or some knowledge passed on to me by Charlie, that he hadn't cried for Bella. There could be no outlet, no words or expression, for his grief at the loss of his only child.

Heavy drops of rain began to fall from the sky, and for once I found myself wishing that the sun would break through the clouds. Bella had always preferred light and warmth before I taught her to long for darkness. They should have been able to honour her memory in the sun.

When told to, Charlie scooped up a handful of loose earth and threw it into the grave. It rained onto the coffin with an almost hollow sound, which, of course, it was. They had never found Bella's body because there had been nothing to find. The werewolves had taken her, nursed her through her transformation and then hidden her at La Push. Charlie and Renée were left to bury a coffin that contained not the remains of their daughter, but some of the possessions that she had come to love during her short life.

The cemetery disappeared and we were back at Bella's house. I had no idea how much time had elapsed between the two memories. Charlie was slumped on the couch staring at the television, but he wore the same expression as when he was reading the newspaper: his mind was somewhere else. I heard the tiniest of creaks, but although Charlie didn't pay it any heed, I recognised it as the front door opening. The sky outside was black: who could be visiting in the middle of the night?

There was a loud crack as the stranger smashed something heavy into Charlie's head, and then everything went dark. In the next memory Charlie was no longer human. He was pinned to the floor by four large vampires, and they were struggling to control him. His scarlet eyes blazed with anger and desperation.

Another vampire, clearly in charge of the four currently restraining him, stood calmly next to his head.

"I know you are hungry," he said, his voice soothing and sympathetic. "We will willingly bring you food, but first you have to agree to help us."

"Never," snarled Charlie.

"Don't you want to find your daughter?" asked the other vampire reasonably. "I would have thought that, having discovered that she still lives, reuniting with her would be your first priority."

"I won't lead you to her! I won't let you hurt her!" shouted Charlie.

"'Hurt her'?" repeated the vampire, sounding almost hurt. "Of course I won't hurt her! I merely wish to offer her the opportunity to join us. She would benefit greatly from such an arrangement. The Brotherhood offers wealth and companionship, and would shelter her from those who wish to harm her. You can ensure her safety, Charlie. She is your daughter; no one knows better than you how she thinks or where she would go. Find her for us, Charlie, and we will take care of her."

"And if she doesn't want to join you?" demanded Charlie.

The vampire shrugged and spread his hands. "She is, of course, free to refuse our offer."

I could see that Charlie didn't believe him. He knew as well as I did that these were not the sort of people you could refuse: either Bella joined them or they would take steps to ensure that she would never work against them. I expected him to rage against the vampire and say that he would never help them. Instead all of the fight seemed to leave him. He slumped against the floor, no longer struggling against the four sets of hands pinning him down. "Fine," he said, his jaw clenched. "I'll do whatever you want."

A slow smile spread over the vampire's face. "Excellent," he murmured. He gestured to a female vampire, leaning, arms crossed over her chest, against the wall, who had gone unnoticed until that point. "Get the food," he ordered.

The scene changed again, and this time I found myself in a room I had never seen before. The curtains had been thrown open and bright sunlight streamed inside. It bounced off Charlie's unnaturally white skin, making it glint and flash like highly polished silver. The other occupant of the room was a trembling woman, hand clamped over her mouth as she shook her head: Renée. She finally pulled herself together enough to whisper, "So it's true?"

"Yes," said Charlie quietly.

"But I buried you!" she cried.

"No, you buried an empty coffin, the same as we did at Bella's funeral."

This made her pause, her breath catching in her throat. "Bella's really still alive?" she asked, hope creeping into her voice.

"Yes, and I'm going to find her."

"But vampires, Charlie?" she said, returning to the impossible story he had presented her with. "They're not real, they only exist in stories!"

"You've seen with your own eyes that they are real," protested Charlie, waving his arm and making the skin glimmer in the sunlight. "You have to believe me – your life is in danger if you don't."

Renée nodded, absorbing this statement. When she spoke again the breathless quality of her voice that had been evident since the start of their conversation had disappeared. "What do you want me to do? I can help-"

"No!" he interrupted. "It's far too dangerous for a human. You and Phil need to pack your things and leave as soon as possible. You need to go to Volturra, in Italy."

Her eyes widened. "Italy? I can't move to Italy!"

"You have to, Renée!" Charlie almost shouted, clearly frustrated that she had failed to grasp the danger she was in. "When I disappear the vampires are going to look for another way to find Bella. They turned me into one of them because I'm her father and the best chance they had of tracking her down. When they lose me they'll come after you."

"But why Italy, of all places?"

"Not just Italy, it has to be Volterra. An ancient organisation of vampires lives there. I don't have time to explain everything, but they enforce the rules of our world and prevent humans discovering our existence. The Brotherhood – the vampires who will be coming after you – won't dare attack you in their city."

"Well I've always wanted to visit Italy," she said after a long pause, smiling weakly.

Charlie returned her smile with a strained grin of his own. "Thank you. I won't contact you again after tonight, it's too dangerous. The next time you hear from me will be when I have Bella."

As Charlie turned to leave Renée whispered, "Stay safe and look after her."

Without warning Charlie released his grip on my mind. I was back in the forest, surrounded by the low murmurings of my family as they were reunited with Emmett and Rosalie. No one looked at me strangely or gave any indication that they were aware that something out of the ordinary had just taken place. I couldn't have spent more than a few seconds in Charlie's memory, although it had felt like hours.

Carlisle disengaged himself from the others and shook Charlie's hand warmly. "It's good to see you, Charlie," he said. "I assume there's a long and interesting story behind how you came to be here?"

Charlie smiled tightly. "Yes, but I think it will have to wait until the hoard of hostile vampires are dealt with."

"Indeed it will," Carlisle laughed. "Right, everyone, we need to discuss the plan…"

Everyone gathered around to hear him speak. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bella pause, casting a curious look first at her father and then at me. She, at least, knew something of what had just happened.