her eyes. The tears flowed over her eye lids. The aroma emitting from her tears was something I had never smelt before. She wiped the tears from her eyes. I noticed she had missed one. I brought my hand to her face, trapping a tear on my finger. I studied it. As a vampire, we could not produce tears. This was something entirely new. I brought it nonchalantly to my lips, seeing how it would taste. I was curious. It didn't taste disgusting, but it held no significance for me. She was staring at me with curiosity flaming in her eyes.
"Do you want to see the rest of the house?" I asked, distracting her.
"No coffins?" she verified.
"No coffins," I promised, a smile forming on my face.
We walked up the staircase that led to the upstairs where my room was. I watched her carefully as she made her way to the top. She was lightly caressing the stair rail as she went. I was jealous... I wanted it to be me. When we reached the top of the stairs I pointed out rooms as we walked, "Rosalie and Emmett's room...Carlisle's office...Alice's room..."
She froze, turning into a statue. Her eyes grew wide. I followed her gaze until I realized she was staring at the wooden cross at the end of the hallway. I remembered Alice's vision.
"You can laugh," I told her, "It is sort of ironic." I took a deep breath, bringing her fragrance into my lungs again. I was used to the dull ache.
She brought her hand out to touch the cross, but she did not proceed, "It must be very old," she guessed.
I shrugged, "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less." I mused.
She turned to face me, "Why do you keep this here?"
"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father." I explained. I knew I was giving more information away then I had ever told a single soul before.
"He collected antiques?" she suggested doubtfully.
"No. He carved it his himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached." I said.
She looked shocked.
"Are you all right?" I asked, worried about her expressions and silence.
"How old is Carlisle?" she wondered, trying to do the mental math in her head. I watched as her eyes looked fully in thought. I could almost see here calculating the numbers mentally.
"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday," I admitted.
She looked at me, questions burning in her eyes. I knew I would answer them all, if she were to ask. I took in another deep breath while I let her scent assault me.
18. Stories
I was worried that if I were to divulge the information that she would request that she would decide to never grace me with her presence again. I decided this was the best time to release some of our stories. She hadn't run away yet. I knew I would feel relieved once she knew the truth.
"Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he believes. Time wasn't marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though." I began.
I watched her face carefully for any sign of distress. She showed no emotion. I continued, "He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves...and vampires."
Her pulse began picking up at the last word; I continued without pausing, "When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of his raids. At first Carlisle was a disappointment; he was not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exist. But he was persistent, and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true vampires that lived hidden in the sewers of a city, only coming out by night to hunt. In those days, when monsters were not just myths and legends, that was the way many lived.
"The people gathered their pitchforks and torches, of course," I laughed in a non humorous way at the thought of a human bringing harm to a vampire. I continued, "and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged."
I knew I had arrived at the part of the story where I wasn't sure how to proceed. I went on, but kept