Chapter One

Edward Masen

Icy wind whipped around my face, pushing my bronze hair in at least a million different directions. My breaths were coming out quickly now, my heart trying to keep pace with my wildly racing nerves. My throat was burning like never before as the frost nipped at my already-freezing body. I noticed none of this. My thoughts rested solely on the beautiful face directly in front of me.

She was silent, unmoving, as if she were a statue. Snow flakes continued to melt on her nose and cheeks. "Help me," she whispered desperately, her breath creating shadows of white on the air.

"What can I do?" I asked the face urgently, and then louder again. "What can I do? To help you?!" I lifted my hands to touch her face gently. Her skin was velvety-soft, like silk under my rough, calloused hands.

Tears began to run down her ruddy face, leaving a trail behind them. I hurriedly wiped them away. "It's too late. It's too late," she breathed, almost silently. I wrapped my arms around her, trying, to no avail, to contain her, to keep her with me. I couldn't lose her. Not now, not ever.

"NO!" I heard myself shout, lifting my cry to the wind. I was too late. I could not save her. I gaped in horror as she faded away from me, slowly, at first, but her speed was rapidly increasing…

I woke up to my normal room, in my normal bed, as per usual. This time, however, beads of cold sweat had broken out across my forehead. Thoughts of the recurring nightmare still rang fresh on my mind.

There were still many things about this that I couldn't wrap my mind around. Who was this girl? Why did she need me, of all people? And why on earth was she constantly invading my dreams? On the contrary, some things I understood with perfect clarity. For instance, it was easy to see why I was so drawn to her. It wasn't just because she wasn't beautiful- though she was, radiantly so- but more because she needed me. And I needed her to need me.

Knowing full well that I wasn't going to get anymore sleep, I pushed the heavy covers away from my legs and hopped out of bed. The house was cold, not unusually so. And I definitely knew why. "Jane," I muttered under my breath. That girl could just as well have been a polar bear with her living conditions.

"Edward!" a shrill voice from behind me sounded. I recoiled. Jane. Of course it was. I groaned.

"What do you want, Jane?" I snapped, more harshly then I'd originally intended. I had to work on that. She was so young, so blameless, yet I was constantly taking my pent-up anger out on her.

"What are you doing up, Edward?" she asked meekly in her singsong voice.

"None of your business." I was being juvenile, and I knew it. It wasn't that I had a problem communicating with my baby sister. She and I were actually fairly close, all things considered. It was just because I knew that she wouldn't understand in this particular situation. Then, how could I expect her to understand? She was so young, so innocent, so uncorrupted. I, for one, would not be the one to change that. She had her entire life to grow up, after all.

"David says you must be crazy or something," she explained thoughtfully, tapping her chin with her short, skinny forefinger. "What do you think he means by that?"

My blood was boiling. David, my stepfather, whom I despised, had been filling my twelve-year-old sister's mind with this… this… nonsense? And she was sucking it up like juice! What was he thinking?

"Stupid kids," a third, husky voice intruded on our conversation. Jane and I jumped. "What are you doing in here? Aren't you supposed to be asleep? What are you, nocturnal?" He was so close to Jane and I that I could both hear and feel his Adam's apple vibrating.

I hissed subconsciously, snaking a protective arm around her. "I was just about to help Janie back to sleep, David," I seethed. "We won't be up much longer." It was a promise I couldn't keep, for sure. But when had I ever cared about honesty? I had nothing to prove to this stranger that just so happened to be living in my house.

"You'd better be," he mumbled, turning back toward his and Esme's bedroom.

"Night, David," Jane said cheerfully. I clamped a hand over her mouth, shock written all over my face.

"You're supposed to be the man of the house when I'm not around?" he mocked, slapping my chest as if to make it appear that we were "bonding". "You'd better man up real fast, girly," he said, finally descending into his room.

It wasn't until David was long gone that I began to hear Jane's soft, muffled sobs. I stared at her disbelievingly. Why was she crying?

"What's the matter, Janie?" I asked, trying my best to sound sensitive.

"Why is he so mean to you?" she cried solemnly.

Suddenly, I understood her grief. I hugged her gently, trying not to crush her fragile bones. "You and I both know what he said wasn't true. He's just… angry," I explained, trying to use logic that she could follow. It was true, of course.

I was probably one of the toughest guys in Copenhagen. I was tall, lean, and pretty muscular, if I do say so myself. It was pretty obvious that I was anything but weak. Losing my father when I was young had this result. Before David, I had, in fact, been the man of the house, caring for Esme and Jane. I just hoped she wasn't wondering why…

"Why is he angry, Edward?" she asked, practically reading my mind.

"No reason, Janie," I lied unconvincingly.

"Ohh. I get it," she said, more to herself than to me.

"No, you don't," I disagreed immediately, shaking my head at her. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"It is because we're Jews, Edward?" she asked timidly. Afraid of the blow, with good reason.

"NO!" I shouted, not believing my ears. What had she been hearing at school? From her friends? From David? I was immediately livid again. David was tearing our family apart!

A fresh film of tears formed in the corner of her big, chocolate-brown eyes.

"Gosh Janie. It's nothing to cry about," I soothed, stroking her brown curls gently.

"You never yell at me, Edward," she said pointedly.

Guilt washed through my body and settled in the pit of my stomach. "Go to bed, Jane," I ordered, purposely ignoring her accusation. What could I say to her? That I was sorry for being a jerk? That in the morning everything would be alright? I wanted to comfort my sister, but I could not bring myself to lie to her. She deserved to know the truth, at the very least.

She nodded wordlessly, turning her back to me. "Good night Eddie. I love you."

I smiled in spite of myself. So what if our Jewish father had died, leaving us with some German who, for reasons that were beyond me, my mother was in love with? None of that really mattered, because Jane and I had learned to lean on each other. "Night Janie. I love you, too."

After she was in bed, another set of footsteps clacked against the wooden floor of our kitchen. "Edward?" It was Esme. I hoped we hadn't woken her. She'd be furious. "What are you doing in here? Never mind," she added, not waiting for my answer. She handed me a stack of black-and-white clothing-- a suit! What was this for? "Put this on, quickly now! You're coming with me to the charity ball."

Was she kidding? It was before dawn, wasn't it? "What time is it?" I asked absentmindedly, eyeing the slacks and dress jacket warily. Never in my eighteen years had I seen such intimidating clothing. A tuxedo meant that we'd been invited to a formal event, and that meant that I'd have to communicate with others. The girls I did not worry about so much; they were easy to please. But the young men of our small Copenhagen neighborhood often let their jealousy get the best of them. I'd witnessed this firsthand many times.

"The sun will be rising shortly," she answered, sounding tired. "But we've got a few places to go before then."

"Well, when's this… dance thing?" I demanded. If I was going to leave for some stupid ball this early in the morning, I was going to get my questions answered.

"Tonight, dear," she said, rushing me into the wash room. "Quickly, Edward," were her parting words.