new

Everything was so clear.

Sharp. Defined.

The brilliant light overhead was still blinding-bright, and yet I could plainly see the glowing strands of the filaments inside the bulb. I could see each color of the rainbow in the white light, and, at the very edge of the spectrum, an eighth color I had no name for.

Behind the light, I could distinguish the individual grains in the dark wood ceiling above. In front of it, I could see the dust motes in the air, the sides the light touched, and the dark sides, distinct and separate. They spun like little planets, moving around each other in a celestial dance.

The dust was so beautiful that I inhaled in shock; the air whistled down my throat, swirling the motes into a vortex. The action felt strange in my chest. I realized it must have been because I hadn't breathed in since I opened my eyes. That made sense, though. I didn't need air anymore, at least not strictly speaking. But something was still strange about it to me. I was too distracted at that moment to give it more thought.  

Distracted, because in that breath of air I could taste the room around me—taste the lovely dust motes, the mix of the stagnant air mingling with the flow of slightly cooler air from the open door. Taste a lush whiff of silk. Taste a faint hint of something warm and desirable, something that should be moist, but wasn't.... That smell caused a faint, dry burn in my throat, the faintest echo of the venom burn, though the scent was tainted by the bite of chlorine and ammonia. And most of all, I could taste an almost-honey-lilac-and-sun- flavored scent that was the strongest thing, the closest thing to me.

I heard the sound of the others, breathing again now that I did. Their breath mixed with the scent that was something just off honey and lilac and sunshine, bringing new flavors. Cinnamon, hyacinth, pear, seawater, rising bread, pine, vanilla, leather, apple, moss, lavender, chocolate.... I traded a dozen different comparisons in my mind, but none of them fit exactly. So sweet and pleasant.

The TV downstairs had been muted, and I heard someone shift their weight on the first floor.

I also heard a faint, thudding rhythm, with a voice shouting angrily to the beat. Rap music? I was mystified for a moment, and then the sound faded away like a car passing by with the windows rolled down.

With a start, I realized that this could be exactly right. Could I hear all the way to the freeway?

I listened in wonder with my new ears. All the new sounds I could hear and how easily I could discern their meaning. Somewhere in the nearby woods, a small creature—a bird, likely—was pecking with some irritation at the earth. Perhaps searching for food. A slight breeze was moving through the leaves and grass outside the house creating a beautiful flowing sound. The ease and clarity with which I could hear everything would have been overwhelming were it not for the speed at which my mind processed them. The only sound a couldn't place was a soft, gentle thumping rhythm. I could hear it somewhere just behind my ears. I almost recognized this sound, and I had a sense that something was slightly off in its gentle cadence.

I didn't realize someone was holding my hand until whoever it was squeezed it lightly. Like it had before to hide the pain, my body locked down again in surprise. This was not a touch I expected. The skin was perfectly smooth, but it was the wrong temperature. Not icy cold.

After that first frozen second of shock, my body responded to the unfamiliar touch in a way that shocked me even more.

Air hissed up my throat, spitting through my clenched teeth with a low, menacing sound like a swarm of bees. Before the sound was out, my muscles bunched and arched, twisting away from the unknown. I flipped off my back in a spin so fast it should have turned the room into an incomprehensible blur—but it did not. I saw every dust mote, every splinter in the wood-paneled walls, every loose thread in microscopic detail as my eyes whirled past them.

So by the time I found myself crouched against the wall defensively—about a sixteenth of a second later—I already understood what had startled me, and that I had overreacted.

Oh. Of course. Edward wouldn't feel cold to me. We were the same temperature now. Or nearly the same. He had still felt cooler to me by some degrees. I held my pose for an eighth of a second longer, adjusting to the scene before me.

Edward was leaning across the operating table that had been my pyre, his hand reached out toward me, his expression anxious.

Edward's face was the most important thing, but my peripheral vision catalogued everything else, just in case. Some instinct to defend had been triggered, and I automatically searched for any sign of danger.

My vampire family waited cautiously against the far wall by the door, Emmett and Jasper in the front. Like there was danger. My nostrils flared, searching for the threat. I could smell nothing out of place. That faint scent of something warm and inviting—but marred by harsh chemicals—tickled my throat again, setting it to a slight aching and burning.

Alice was peeking around Jasper's elbow with wide eyes. Somewhere between nervous and excited, with a wide grin.

That grin reassured me and then put the pieces together. Jasper and Emmett were in the front to protect the others, as I had assumed. What I hadn't grasped immediately was that I was the danger.

All this was a sideline. The greater part of my senses and my mind were still focused on Edward's face.

I had never seen it before this second.

How many times had I stared at Edward and marveled over his beauty? How much had that perfect face danced through my mind? I thought I'd known his face better than my own. I had thought that even his handsome face could become no more beautiful than it already was.

I may as well have been blind.

For the first time, with the dimming shadows and limiting weakness of humanity taken off my eyes, I saw his face. I gasped and then struggled with my vocabulary, unable to find the right words. I needed better words.

At this point, the other part of my attention had ascertained that there was no danger here besides myself, and I automatically straightened out of my crouch; almost a whole second had passed since I'd been on the table.

I was momentarily preoccupied by the way my body moved. The instant I'd considered standing erect, I was already straight. There was no brief fragment of time in which the action occurred; change was instantaneous, almost as if there was no movement at all.

I continued to stare at Edward's face, motionless again.

He moved slowly around the table—each step taking nearly half a second, each step flowing sinuously like river water weaving over smooth stones—his hand still outstretched.

I watched the grace of his advance, absorbing it with my new eyes.

"Beau?" he asked in a low, calming tone, but the worry in his voice layered my name with tension.

I couldn't answer immediately; his voice—like his face—seemed to reach new levels of musicality to my ears. I could hear every subtle nuance and tone in the single word he spoke. Comparing it to my human memories, I would have thought I had spent my life up to this point with cotton in my ears.

"Beau, love? I'm sorry, I know it's disorienting. But you're all right. Everything is fine."

Everything? My mind spun out, spiraling back to my last human hour. Already, the memory seemed dim, like I was watching through a thick, dark veil—because my human eyes had been half blind. Everything had been so blurred.

When he said everything was fine, did that include Jacob? Was he fine? Did my long-suffering best friend hate me now? Had he gone back to Sam's pack? Seth and Liam, too?

Were the Cullens safe, or had my transformation ignited the war with the pack? Did Edward's blanket assurance cover all of that? Or was he just trying to calm me?

And Charlie? What would I tell him now? He must have called while I was burning. What had they told him? What did he think had happened to me?

As I deliberated for one small piece of a second over which question to ask first, Edward reached out tentatively and stroked his fingertips across my cheek. Smooth as satin, soft as a feather, and that same cool touch that I had longed for during my painful burning.

His touch seemed to sweep beneath the surface of my skin, right through the bones of my face. The feeling was tingly, electric—it jolted through my bones, down my spine, and trembled in my stomach.

Wait, I thought as the trembling blossomed into a warmth, a yearning. Wasn't I supposed to lose this? Wasn't giving up this feeling a part of the bargain?

I was a newborn vampire. And I knew what being a newborn entailed. Human emotions and longings would come back to me later in some form, but I'd accepted that I would not feel them in the beginning. Only thirst. That was the deal, the price. I'd agreed to pay it.

But as Edward's hand curled to the shape of my face like satin-covered steel, desire raced through my veins, singing from my scalp to my toes.

He arched one perfect eyebrow, waiting for me to speak. I threw my arms around him.

Again, it was like there was no movement. One moment I stood straight and still as a statue; in the same instant, he was in my arms.

Warmer—or at least, that was my perception—than I had ever felt him. With the sweet, delicious scent that I'd never been able to really take in with my dull human senses, but that was one hundred percent Edward. I pressed my face into his smooth chest.

And then he shifted his weight uncomfortably. Leaned away from my embrace. I stared up at his face, confused and frightened by the rejection.

"Um... carefully, Beau. Ow."

I yanked my arms away, folding them behind my back as soon as I understood.

I was too strong.

"Oops," I mouthed.

He smiled the kind of smile that would have stopped my heart if it were still beating.

"Don't panic, love," he said, lifting his hand to touch my lips, distracting me from my train of thought. "You're just a bit stronger than I am for the moment."

My eyebrows pushed together. I'd known this, too, but it felt more surreal than any other part of this ultimately surreal moment. I was stronger than Edward. I'd made him say ow.

His hand stroked my cheek again, and I all but forgot my distress as another wave of desire rippled through my motionless body.

These emotions were so much stronger than I was used to that it was hard to stick to one train of thought despite the extra room in my head. Each new sensation overwhelmed me. I remembered Edward saying once—his voice in my head a weak shadow compared to the crystal, musical clarity I was hearing now—that his kind, our kind, were easily distracted. I could see why.

I made a concerted effort to focus. There was something I needed to say. The most important thing.

Very carefully, so carefully that the movement was actually discernible, I brought my right arm out from behind my back and raised my hand to touch his cheek. I refused to let myself be sidetracked by the pearly color of my hand or by the smooth silk of his skin or by the charge that zinged in my fingertips.

I stared into his eyes and heard my own voice for the first time.

"I love you," I said, but it sounded like singing. My voice rang and shimmered like a bell.

His answering smile dazzled me more than it ever had when I was human; I could really see it now.

"As I love you," he told me.

He took my face between his hands and leaned his face to mine—slow enough to remind me to be careful. He kissed me, soft as a whisper at first, and then suddenly stronger, fiercer. I tried to remember to be gentle with him, but it was hard work to remember anything in the onslaught of sensation, hard to hold on to any coherent thoughts.

It was like he'd never kissed me—like this was our first kiss. And, in truth, he'd never kissed me this way before.

It almost made me feel guilty. Surely this was breaking some sort of rule. I couldn't be allowed to have this, too.

My breathing sped, raced as fast as it had when I was burning. This was a different kind of fire.

Someone cleared his throat. Emmett. I recognized the deep sound at once, joking and annoyed at the same time.

I'd forgotten we weren't alone. And then I realized that the way I was curved around Edward now was not exactly polite for company.

Embarrassed, I half-stepped away in another instantaneous movement.

Edward chuckled and stepped with me, keeping his arms tight around my waist. His face was glowing—like a white flame burned from behind his diamond skin.

I took an unnecessary breath to settle myself.

How different this kissing was! I read his expression as I compared the indistinct human memories to this clear, intense feeling. He looked... a little smug.

"You've been holding out on me," I accused in my singing voice, my eyes narrowing a tiny bit.

He laughed, radiant with relief that it was all over—the fear, the pain, the uncertainties, the waiting, all of it behind us now. "It was sort of necessary at the time," he reminded me. "Now it's your turn to not break me." He laughed again.

I frowned as I considered that, and then Edward was not the only one laughing.

Carlisle stepped around Emmett and walked toward me swiftly; his eyes were only slightly wary, but Jasper shadowed his footsteps. I'd never seen Carlisle's face before either, not really. I had an odd urge to blink—like I was staring at the sun.

"How do you feel, Beau?" Carlisle asked.

I considered that for a sixty-fourth of a second.

"Overwhelmed. There's so much…" I trailed off, listening to the bell-tone of my voice again.

"Yes, it can be quite confusing."

I nodded one fast, jerky bob. "But I feel like me. Sort of. I didn't expect that."

Edward's arms squeezed lightly around my waist. "I told you so," he whispered.

"You are quite controlled," Carlisle mused. "More so than I expected, even with the time you had to prepare yourself mentally for this."

I thought about the wild mood swings, the difficulty concentrating, and whispered, "I'm not sure about that."

He nodded seriously, and then his jeweled eyes glittered with interest. "Indeed... Beau, tell me, what do you remember of the transformation process?"

I hesitated, intensely aware of Edward's breath brushing against my cheek, sending whispers of electricity through my skin.

"Everything was... very dim before." Was all I could say, glancing up at Edward. Then back to Carlisle, focusing on my poker face. "It's hard to remember. It was so dark before. And then… I opened my eyes and I could see everything."

"Interesting," Carlisle breathed, his eyes searching mine.

Chagrin washed through me, and I waited for the heat to burn in my cheeks and give me away. And then I remembered that I would never blush again. Maybe that would protect Edward from the truth.

I'd have to find a way to tip off Carlisle, though. Someday. If he ever needed to create another vampire. That possibility seemed very unlikely, which made me feel better about lying.

"I want you to think—to tell me everything you remember," Carlisle pressed with a sense of urgency and seriousness, and I couldn't help the grimace that flashed across my face. I didn't want to have to keep lying, because I might slip up. And I didn't want to think about the burning. Unlike the human memories, that part was perfectly clear and I found I could remember it with far too much precision.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Beau," Carlisle apologized immediately. "I imagine your thirst must be very uncomfortable. This conversation can wait."

Until he'd mentioned it, the thirst actually hadn't even been a thought. There was so much room in my head. A separate part of my brain was keeping tabs on the burn in my throat, almost like a reflex. The way my old brain had handled breathing and blinking.

I would have expected Carlisle's assumption to bring the burn to the forefront of my mind. Edward had often warned me that the thirst could be overwhelming and consuming. But even then, the dry ache in the back of my throat was painful, annoying even, but not nearly as bad as I had fearfully imagined before. My hand was at my throat in a flash, my fingers grazing my neck in confusion. The skin there was strange to the touch. So smooth it was somehow soft, though it was hard as stone, too.

Edward dropped his arms and took my other hand, tugging gently. "Let's hunt, Beau."

My eyes widened in shock as I considered his words.

Me? Hunt? With Edward? But... how? I didn't know what to do.

He read the alarm in my expression and smiled encouragingly. "It's quite easy, love. Instinctual. Don't worry, I'll show you." When I didn't move, he grinned his crooked smile and raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that you'd always wanted to see me hunt."

I laughed in a short burst of humor (part of me listened in wonder to the pealing bell sound) as his words reminded me of cloudy human conversations. And then I took a whole second to run quickly through those first days with Edward in my head so that I would never forget them. I did not expect that it would be so uncomfortable to remember. Like trying to squint through muddy water. I knew from Royal's experience that if I thought of my human memories enough, I would not lose them over time. I did not want to forget one minute I'd spent with Edward, even now, when eternity stretched in front of us. I would have to make sure those human memories—allmy human memories—were cemented into my infallible vampire mind.

"Shall we?" Edward asked. He reached up to take the hand that was still at my neck. His fingers smoothed down the column of my throat. "I don't want you to be hurting," he added in a low murmur. Something I would not have been able to hear before.

"I'm fine," I said, and it was mostly true. There were other matters of more importance at the moment. "Wait, what about Jacob? And Charlie? Tell me everything that I missed. How long was I... unconscious?"

Edward didn't seem to notice my hesitation over the last word. Instead, he was exchanging a wary glance with Carlisle.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

"Nothing is wrong," Carlisle told me, emphasizing the last word in a strange way. "Nothing has changed much, actually—you were only unaware for just over two days. It was very fast, as these things go. Edward did an excellent job. Quite innovative—the venom injection straight to your heart was his idea." He paused to smile proudly at his son and then sighed. "Jacob is still here, and Charlie still believes that you are sick. He thinks you're in Atlanta right now, undergoing tests at the CDC. We gave him a bad number, and he's frustrated. He's been speaking to Esme."

"I should call him...," I murmured to myself, but, listening to my own voice, I understood the new difficulties. He wouldn't recognize this voice. It wouldn't reassure him. And then the earlier surprise intruded. "Hold on—Jacob is still here?"

Another glance between them.

"Beau," Edward said quickly. "There's much to discuss, but we should take care of you first. You have to be in pain..."

I hadn't been overly aware of it, if I was being honest. It was like a mild annoyance in the back of my mind. "But Jacob—"

"We have all the time in the world for explanations, love," he reminded me gently.

Of course. I could wait a little longer for the answer; Edward was right. We had all the time in the world now. "Okay."

"Wait, wait, wait," Alice trilled from the doorway. She danced across the room, dreamily graceful. As with Edward and Carlisle, I felt some shock as I really looked at her face for the first time. So lovely. "You promised I could be there the first time! What if you two run past something reflective?"

"Alice—," Edward protested, something like a hint of panic in his voice. I wouldn't have been able to detect that as easily before. My new ears made even the slightest inflection obvious.

"It will only take a second!" She said turning, "And it will be fine." And with that, Alice darted from the room.

Edward sighed.

"What is she talking about?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You know how she is, Beau," Royal said, some humor in his golden voice.

My eyes moved to Royal, standing just behind Emmett with Esme. Royal's hair was like spun gold, framing his brilliantly handsome face. He was even more stunningly beautiful than I remembered.

Then Alice was back in the room, carrying the huge, gilt-framed mirror from Royal's room, which was nearly twice as tall as she was, and several times as wide. Royal eyed her with some mild annoyance.

"Careful with that, it's an antique." He grumbled in a voice so low, so quick and quiet that my human ears would never have even noticed him speak.

Alice stuck out her dainty tongue as she danced past him with the mirror.

Jasper had been so still and silent that I'd taken no notice of him since he'd followed behind Carlisle. Now he moved again, to hover over Alice as she approached me, his eyes locked on my expression. Because I was the danger here.

I knew he would be tasting the mood around me, too, and so he must have felt my jolt of shock as I studied his face, looking at it closely for the first time.

Through my sightless human eyes, the scars left from his former life with the newborn armies in the South had been mostly invisible. Only with a bright light to throw their slightly raised shapes into definition could I even make out their existence.

Now that I could see, the scars were Jasper's most dominant feature. It was hard to take my eyes off his ravaged neck and jaw—hard to believe that even a vampire could have survived so many sets of teeth ripping into his throat.

Instinctively, I tensed to defend myself. Any vampire who saw Jasper would have had the same reaction. The scars were like a lighted billboard. Dangerous, they screamed. How many vampires had tried to kill Jasper? Hundreds? Thousands? The same number that had died in the attempt.

Jasper both saw and felt my assessment, my caution, and he smiled wryly.

"Edward gave me grief for not getting you to a mirror before the wedding," Alice said, pulling my attention away from her frightening lover. "I'm not going to be chewed out again."

"Chewed out?" Edward asked skeptically, one eyebrow curving upward.

"Maybe I'm overstating things," she murmured absently as she turned the mirror to face me.

"And maybe this has solely to do with your own voyeuristic gratification," he countered. "Are you certain…?" He trailed off.

Alice simply winked at him.

I was only aware of this exchange with the lesser part of my concentration. The greater part was riveted on the person in the mirror.

My first reaction was an unthinking pleasure. The alien creature in the glass was indisputably beautiful, every bit as beautiful as Edward or even Royal. He was fluid even in stillness, and his flawless face was pale as ivory against the frame of his dark, thick hair. His limbs were smooth and strong, skin glowing subtly, luminous as a pearl.

My second reaction was horror.

Who was he? At first glance, I couldn't find my face anywhere in the smooth, perfect planes of his features.

But then, I saw his eyes. And then I felt a strange drop in the pit of my stomach. The eyes on this beautiful creature, this stranger, were mine. The same wide, gray eyes I had always known. My mother's eyes.

I didn't understand. Why were my eyes the same? Shouldn't they be red now? How could they still be the same gray color they had always been? Well, not exactly the same. There was something luminous about them now—like a brilliantly polished silver.

All the while I studied and reacted, the stranger's face was perfectly composed, a carving of a god, showing nothing of the turmoil roiling inside me. And then his full lips moved.

"The eyes?" I whispered. "How?

"We…" Edward began, his voice soft and comforting but with traces of anxiousness. "We're not sure, Beau."

That was when I became aware of all the other little things that were wrong.

Well, nothing was wrong. Everything was perfect. There were no traces of the deadly disease that had all but destroyed me in the past months. But as I studied myself in the mirror, as I carefully assessed everything I felt in my new body, I became instantly aware of what was different than I had expected. My eyes had not changed, they were still gray. And my skin, though decidedly paler than it had been before, had the faintest blush of color below the skin. But that was impossible! I shouldn't…

And then my breath caught in my throat.

It caught, and I realized why breathing had felt strange to me earlier. Because I did still need it. Perhaps not as much as I had before, but I my lungs still craved some relief of oxygen. They continued to work, much as they always had in my chest. And suddenly as I isolated all the feelings in my body and examined them, I was able to place that strange, gentle rhythm that had been going continuously behind my ears.

It was my heart.

My hand flew to my chest, and I could sense everyone in the room shift uneasily as my own body became still as a statue. My heart was still keeping a steady beat in my chest. I realized I hadn't noticed it restart when I had first opened my eyes because it was keeping a new pace now; softer, gentler, and slightly slower than it had been in my human life.

"Edward?" My voice was higher now, stressed. In the mirror, the perfect eyebrows lifted incredulously above the luminous silver eyes.

Jasper took a step forward, alarmed by the intensity of my sudden anxiety. He knew young vampires only too well; did this emotion presage some misstep on my part? Except, I wasn't a vampire… was I?

Edward didn't answer. I looked away, to him and Alice. Both their eyes were slightly unfocused—reacting to Jasper's unease. Listening to its cause, looking ahead to the immediate future.

I took a deep breath.

"No, I'm fine," I promised them. My eyes flickered to the stranger in the mirror and back. "It's just... Why are… My eyes? My skin?" My voice dropped, "My heart?"

"It's all right, Beau," Edward soothed. "Don't panic."

Jasper's brow furrowed, highlighting the two scars over his left eye.

"I don't know," Edward murmured.

The man in the mirror frowned. "What question did I miss?"

Edward grinned a little. "Jasper wonders how you're doing it."

"Doing what?"

"Controlling your emotions, Beau," Jasper answered. "I've never seen a newborn do that—stop an emotion in its tracks that way. You were upset, but when you saw our concern, you reined it in, regained power over yourself. I was prepared to help, but you didn't need it."

"But I'm not… I'm not really a newborn, am I?"

"No," he said, but his voice was unsure. "And yes."

Edward stroked his hand down my arm, as if encouraging me to thaw. "We don't understand it. We don't know how… but Alice saw it, almost immediately, that you would be… different."

I considered that for a portion of a second. "You don't seem overly concerned."

"No, because she saw you would be fine. You would be perfect… just…" He smiled his crooked smile. "Different."

I was different. I wasn't quite a vampire when I really thought about it. Edward's touch no longer felt icy, but it was still just barely cooler than my own skin, which meant I wasn't quite as cold as he was. The eyes, the skin, the heart…  but other than those things, I was very much like a vampire. It was all so confusing.

"But what do you think?" Alice asked, a little impatient now, pointing to the mirror.

"I'm not sure," I hedged, not wanting to admit how frightened I really was.

I stared at the beautiful man with the silver eyes, looking for pieces of me. Looking for answers. The angularity and sharpness of the stranger's features were unknown and distinctly vampire—and foreign—to my perception.

I raised my hand experimentally, and the man in the mirror copied the movement, touching his face, too. His luminous silver eyes watched me warily.

Edward sighed.

I turned away from the mirror to look at him, raising one eyebrow.

"Disappointed?" I asked, my ringing voice impassive.

He laughed. "Yes," he admitted.

I felt the shock break through the composed mask on my face, followed instantly by the hurt.

Alice snarled. Jasper leaned forward again, waiting for me to snap.

But Edward ignored them and wrapped his arms tightly around my newly frozen form, pressing his lips against my cheek. "I was rather hoping that I'd be able to hear your mind, now that it is more similar to my own," he murmured. "And here I am, as frustrated as ever, wondering what could possibly be going on inside your head."

I felt better at once.

"Oh well," I said lightly, relieved that my thoughts were still my own. "I guess my brain will never work right. At least I'm good looking."

It was becoming easier to joke with him as I adjusted, to think in straight lines. To be myself and ignore the pressing concerns that would have sent me into a panic in my former life.

Edward growled in my ear. "Beau, you have never been merely good looking."

Then his face pulled away from mine, and he sighed. "All right, all right," he said to someone.

"What?" I asked.

"You're making Jasper more edgy by the second. He may relax a little when you've hunted."

"I just think it would be good to see how he handles that," Jasper explained quickly. "Maybe we'll understand what he's become better if we… see him in action." He managed to relax his worried expression into a slight smirk.

I read the worry still evident behind Jasper's eyes and nodded. Answers would be good right now. And the best way to find them would be to start taking stock of what, if any, more abilities I had that actually didresemble a vampire.

"Okay. Let's hunt," I agreed, a thrill of nerves and anticipation making my stomach quiver. I unwrapped Edward's arms from around me, keeping one of his hands, and turned my back on the strange, beautiful, and unknown man in the mirror.