The morning of Bella's first day at Forks High dawned as grey and unenthusiastic as every other day in this town. I was already up, having forgone the human habit of sleep for a few hours of silent roaming in the pre-dawn woods. The Thirst was a low hum, manageable after a midnight snack of a rather unfortunate raccoon that had mistaken our porch for a diner. Animal blood was still bland, but it kept the edge off.
Bella emerged from her room looking like she was heading to her own execution. Her hair was damp, clinging to her pale face, and she moved with the hesitant grace of a newborn foal on an ice rink.
"Morning, sunshine," I greeted from the kitchen, sunglasses already perched on my nose. I was nursing a mug of lukewarm coffee – a habit I couldn't quite kick, even if the appeal was now purely psychological. My new physiology didn't exactly need caffeine.
"Is it too late to feign a terminal illness?" she mumbled, slumping into a chair.
"Probably. Charlie's already called the school to let them know you're coming. Escaping now would involve witness protection, and I don't think Dad's budget stretches that far." I slid a piece of toast onto a plate for her. My own breakfast had been far more…visceral.
Charlie had already left for the station, leaving us to our own devices. The drive to school in Bella's ancient, rust-colored Chevy truck – a 'welcome to Forks' gift from Charlie and, by extension, me – was an exercise in strained silence and the persistent, tantalizing aroma of Bella's blood. It was stronger in the confined space, a heady perfume that made the back of my throat ache. I kept my window cracked, letting the damp, pine-scented air dilute it, focusing on the rhythmic thud of her anxious heart.
"You'll be fine," I said, trying for reassuring. It came out a bit more sardonic than intended. "Just avoid eye contact, don't talk about the weather – it's a sore subject – and try not to trip over your own feet in front of the popular kids. Basic survival guide."
She shot me a glare. "Thanks. Super helpful."
"Anytime, sis."
Forks High School looked exactly as Alex Swan's memories painted it: a collection of low, uninspiring brick buildings huddled together as if for warmth against the persistent drizzle. The student body, milling about outside, seemed to consist primarily of kids bundled in flannel and denim, their expressions ranging from bored to resigned. My enhanced senses picked up a cacophony of heartbeats, snippets of conversation, the smell of cheap Axe body spray, and something else… a faint, sweet, stony scent that was distinctly not human. The Cullens. They were here.
Bella navigated the parking lot with the kind of painstaking caution usually reserved for bomb disposal units. I leaned back, observing. My role today was part bodyguard, part anthropologist studying a very strange native tribe.
Getting Bella registered was an ordeal. The school secretary, a woman with a helmet of grey hair and an expression that suggested she'd seen it all and been unimpressed by most of it, eyed Bella with a mixture of pity and suspicion. I loitered nearby, ostensibly examining a faded bulletin board, but actually listening to every word, every heartbeat. Bella's was a frantic drum solo.
"Here are your books, dear, and a map of the school," the secretary said, handing over a stack of worn texts and a crudely drawn diagram. "And someone will need to sign your schedule slip for each class."
Bella looked like she might faint.
"I can do that," I offered, stepping forward. "Alex Swan. Her brother."
The secretary squinted at me over her glasses. "Oh, right. Charlie's boy. You'll look after her then?" Her gaze lingered on my sunglasses.
"Like a hawk," I said, flashing a charming, entirely false smile. "A very cool, slightly light-sensitive hawk."
The first few classes passed in a blur for Bella, judging by the bewildered expression she wore when I caught up with her heading towards the cafeteria. For me, it had been an exercise in sensory overload management. The sheer humanity of it all – the anxieties, the petty dramas, the hormones – was almost deafening. I'd spent most of the time cataloging the unique scent profiles of at least fifty different teenagers. None, however, came close to the siren song of Bella's blood.
The cafeteria was a chaotic symphony of clattering trays, loud chatter, and the mingled smells of lukewarm pizza, stale tater tots, and adolescent sweat. Bella looked utterly overwhelmed.
"Table by the window?" I suggested, nodding towards a relatively empty spot. "Less chance of accidental food-based assault."
She nodded gratefully. We got our trays – I opted for a salad I had no intention of eating, purely for show – and settled in. Bella immediately hunched over her food, trying to make herself invisible.
And then, they entered.
Even without my vampiric senses, the Cullens would have commanded attention. They moved with an unnatural, predatory grace that set them apart from the slouching, awkward humans around them. My gaze swept over them, cataloging, analyzing.
There was Emmett: big, brawny, exuding an air of boisterous confidence, a playful smirk on his face. Rosalie: stunningly beautiful, almost inhumanly so, with a mane of golden hair and an expression of regal disdain for her surroundings. Alice: pixie-like, all sharp angles and vibrant energy, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, her black spiky hair a stark contrast to her pale skin. Jasper: taller, leaner, with honey-blond hair, his posture tense, his eyes constantly scanning the room, an aura of tightly leashed… something, pain perhaps, clinging to him. And Edward.
Edward Cullen. Bronze, untidy hair, pale skin, golden eyes that were currently fixed on a point somewhere beyond the cafeteria wall, his expression one of tortured ennui. He was handsome, in a brooding, Byronic sort of way. I could see the appeal. I could also smell the undercurrent of thirst, sharper on him than on the others, and the distinct, almost palpable tension radiating from him.
They sat at their usual table, a silent, beautiful, and utterly alien tableau. The humans around them gave them a wide berth, a mixture of awe and fear in their furtive glances.
Bella, of course, noticed them immediately. "Who are they?" she whispered, her gaze fixed on the group.
"The Cullens," I supplied, keeping my tone casual. "Dr. Carlisle Cullen's foster kids. They moved here a couple of years ago from Alaska or somewhere. Keep to themselves, mostly." I watched her watching them, a faint smirk playing on my lips. The bait was in the water.
Edward's head suddenly snapped up, his golden eyes fixing directly on our table. Not on me. On Bella. His nostrils flared almost imperceptibly. His body went rigid. I saw his knuckles turn white where he gripped the edge of the table. Oh, this was rich. He could smell her. And it was hitting him hard. His reaction was far more visceral, far more uncontrolled than mine had been. Interesting. Perhaps my folklore vampirism, my different biology, gave me a greater degree of inherent control over the bloodlust, or at least a different reaction to it. Or maybe I was just better at hiding it.
Alice glanced at Edward, then her gaze darted towards Bella, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes – foresight, perhaps? Jasper tensed even further, his eyes narrowing as he seemed to sense Edward's distress. Rosalie just looked bored. Emmett caught Edward's eye and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
But then my attention was drawn to the sixth figure who had entered with them, someone Alex Swan's memories hadn't accounted for, someone who hadn't been in the books or movies. She had hung back slightly as the others entered, almost blending into the shadows near the doorway before following them to their table.
She was tall, nearly as tall as Edward, with a lean, almost willowy build that spoke of contained power rather than overt muscle. Her hair wasn't blonde like Rosalie's or dark like Alice's; it was a startling, ethereal silver-white, cascading down her back in soft waves, looking almost luminous even in the dull cafeteria light. Her features were sharp, delicate but with an underlying strength – high cheekbones, a straight nose, a firm jawline. Her skin was the same flawless porcelain as the others, but there was a wilder, less polished quality to her. She wasn't exuding Rosalie's practiced glamour or Alice's effervescent charm. She was… still. Observant. Her eyes, the same unnatural gold as the others, scanned the room with a detached curiosity, but they held a depth, a flicker of something ancient and perhaps a little weary that captivated me.
She wasn't dressed like the other Cullen girls. No designer labels or trendy outfits. She wore dark jeans, worn leather boots, and a simple, dark grey cashmere sweater that looked soft and old. There was an understated elegance to her, but also a hint of something untamed, like a snow leopard trying to pass itself off as a house cat.
Her scent was different too. The underlying sweet, stony aroma of the Cold Ones was there, but mingled with it was another note, fainter, harder to define. Not quite metallic, not quite floral… something ancient, like old parchment and winter air. It didn't trigger my Thirst, not like human blood, but it pinged my senses in a way that was entirely new. It was… intriguing.
"Who's the silver-haired one?" I asked, my voice a low murmur, my gaze fixed on her. I genuinely didn't know. This was off-script.
Bella followed my gaze. "I… I don't know. She wasn't in any of my classes."
The new girl, Astrid if my instincts for naming unencountered beings were still functioning, took a seat slightly apart from the main group, next to Jasper but not quite part of their usual tight-knit circle. She didn't engage in their silent conversation, instead seeming content to simply observe the chaos of the cafeteria, her golden eyes occasionally flicking towards Edward, who was still having a silent, internal meltdown over Bella.
My crimson eyes, hidden behind their dark shield, narrowed. This Astrid was an unknown variable. A potentially interesting one. Was she like them? Clearly a Cold One, but that scent… and her demeanor. She felt… different. More self-possessed, perhaps less concerned with the facade the others maintained.
Edward abruptly stood, his chair scraping loudly against the linoleum. His face was a mask of controlled fury and something akin to nausea. He stalked out of the cafeteria without a word, leaving his 'siblings' looking after him with varying degrees of concern and, in Rosalie's case, annoyance.
"Well, someone's having a bad day," I commented, watching him go. My gaze then drifted back to Astrid. She was watching Edward's retreating back, not with concern, but with a thoughtful, almost analytical expression. Her golden eyes then swept across the cafeteria again, and for a fleeting second, they met mine.
Even through the sunglasses, I felt it – a jolt. Not of recognition, not of attraction in the human sense, but of… awareness. It was like two predators acknowledging each other across a crowded savanna. Her eyes, even at this distance, were incredibly intense, and for a microsecond, I thought I saw that strange, restless flicker in their depths intensify before she looked away, her expression unreadable.
The Thirst, which had been a low hum, spiked sharply, but not for her. It was a reaction to the intensity of the moment, the sudden focus of another powerful, inhuman being. I suppressed it, my own control a familiar clamp.
"Looks like Forks High might be more entertaining than I thought," I murmured, more to myself than to Bella, who was still staring at the empty space Edward had vacated, a confused frown on her face.
The rest of the lunch period was a quiet affair. Bella picked at her food, occasionally glancing at the Cullen table. The remaining Cullens, including Astrid, ate nothing, their trays pristine. Astrid, in particular, seemed lost in her own thoughts, her gaze distant.
When the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, I stood, stretching languidly. "Ready for round two, sis?"
Bella sighed. "As I'll ever be."
As we left the cafeteria, I risked another glance at the Cullen table. Alice was chattering animatedly to Jasper, who looked marginally less tortured. Rosalie was examining her perfectly manicured nails. Emmett was grinning at something on his phone.
Astrid, however, was looking towards the exit, her silver-white hair catching the light. Her golden eyes weren't focused on me this time, but rather on Bella, who was fumbling with her books ahead of me. There was no hostility in Astrid's gaze, no overt threat. Just a calm, unnervingly perceptive scrutiny.
I felt a strange protectiveness flare, sharper than usual. It wasn't just the brotherly instinct for Bella; it was something more primal. A new player was on the field, one I hadn't anticipated. A Cold One, yes, but with subtle differences that my unique senses were picking up on. And she was definitely interested in Bella, or at least in the effect Bella was having on Edward.
The world felt a whole lot bigger, not just dangerous, but infinitely more complex. And the question from God/Bob echoed again: Is he the only unique vampire? Well, Astrid Cullen, whoever she was, certainly felt… distinct.
My path was set. Protect Bella. Figure out the Cullens. And now, figure out the enigmatic silver-haired vampire who had just walked into the periphery of my very strange new life. This was getting more interesting by the minute. My only regret was that my sunglasses probably made me look more like a douchebag than a mysterious, brooding protector. Aesthetics were everything, even for a folklore vampire.