Crescent • A Twilight Story

A New Vision

Rory wouldn't meet my eyes again, sitting a good distance from me as we gathered in the living area.

Carlisle had returned with a vial of her blood, confident it wouldn't kill a vampire. Merely, unfreeze the human within. She'd given so much of her blood, of herself, it didn't even seem fair to ask. Which was why he didn't.

"How could I not offer?" Rory looked to Rosalie, sharing pained expressions.

"Rory," Gran started.

"I've never had a family before. And if this is the closest thing I'll ever have, how could I not offer?"

"You're wrong." My mom sat beside her, my dad resting a hand on her shoulder. "You are our family too."

They hugged, Rory's smile dimmed and small.

"If any of you ask, my answer will be yes."

"Please." Aunt Rosalie stepped forward, taking a cautious look at her husband. He took a step with her.

Carlisle stepped forward, his hand in Esme's. "I've been able to help countless lives. And I feel I'm not finished with that just yet."

"We like where we are too." Alice and Jasper leaned against the back wall.

My grandparents eyed each other intensely.

"Undecided." Gramps said after awhile.

The next morning I looked into my aunt's violet eyes and saw something I would never have thought possible.

Rosalie and Emmett laid in bed, surrounded by a slew of children and grandchildren.

We were all there too, some of us looking the same. Others with a twinge of gray or a wrinkle here and there.

She reached out to take Rory's hand, her face still full of youth and life and love. Rory looked back to me, smiling that same perfectly dimpled smile.

"None of this would have been possible before. You're an angel. And I thank you." It was a peaceful end to a violent beginning.

When I came back from the vision, I ran from room to room searching for her.

I found her perched on a windowsill, drawing something in a new book my parents had given her, along with enough supplies to start her own studio. Which I imagined was already underway.

She looked up at me, the skeptic I'd first come to know. And then she looked at me, holding me captive with those eyes wide with fear. And everything changed.

***

Ward grew completely rigid by the door, another vision holding him in place. It must've been so horrible, tears trickling down his cheeks as his knees crashed against the floor.

How it could be worse than the last possible death, I didn't know.

When he came to, a slow grin began to spread from ear to ear. He wiped his face with the back of sleeve. He cleared his throat and after awhile, I returned to my drawing.

"How does it happen this time?" He laughed to himself.

"Sorry, I uh, I didn't see how you died." My pen froze above the page. "That only happens with a select few in our acquaintance."

"Are you saying that I," He sniffed, running his hands through his hair.

"I don't know. But after escaping death three times, maybe he got bored of you."

I mulled it over for awhile, knowing when it came to me, nothing was predictable with Ward. I created a few strokes here and there.

"So then what did you see, if not my death?"

"Just a girl with white hair, drawing." He gestured to the bench seat, sitting at the other end. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to continue."

I nodded, peering out as I drew the lush scene behind the rain splattered window.