Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Dedication

For the ones I love—human, shifter, and vampire: may this book never need to be read by any of you.

...For I, except you enthrall me,

never shall be free,

Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

— John Donne

Prologue

A Recent Memory

The ancient Bible sat on a pedestal in a place of prominence in the library of the lodge-castle in the Canadian Rockies. Two ornate bookshelves rose up on either side against the wall behind it, and on the wall right above it was a drawn portrait of a man who was like, but not exactly like, Carlisle Cullen. The Bible was enclosed, normally, in a glass cover, and the first time I’d seen it was opened to the page with Psalm 23, a famous poem that even I had heard many times before.

Today, only a handful of days since I’d arrived, it was in the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 6. I recognized some of this, too, though I certainly had never read it before. It wasn’t as common, but it was still nice.

It was a comforting excerpt, if a little hard to understand in its ancient writing. I wondered if the page was turned often in this very old volume and if there was any rhyme or reason to it. I had only been here a few days, and while the large library was my safe haven of choice, I hadn’t seen anyone come near it.

I stepped closer to look more clearly at the pages, which must have been very old, with their strange script. I was so engrossed that I would have been startled by the voice behind me. Would have… But of course I’d heard him come in.

“It is very old,” a voice, smooth as velvet, confirmed. Edward came and stood beside me and I glanced at him a little shyly. In those early, quiet days of my new reality, it was sometimes a relief to be around Edward because I didn’t have to use my loathsome voice, but having my thoughts taken right out of my head was also unnerving.

“Vampires with a Bible?” I said quietly but with a touch of humor.

He smiled a crooked smile. “It’s part of our family history. It’s older than an original 1611, too.”

My smile was apologetic. “I’m not up on much Bible history.”

He chuckled and opened the glass case. The old volume seemed so ancient and fragile that this made me anxious. I was worried suddenly that this was wrong and we’d be caught, as though we were in a museum messing with an exhibit.

But Edward discerned all of this and chuckled again. “It’s quite alright, as long as we’re careful. Look here,” he gingerly turned the pages back to the title page. On it, beneath large letters that read simply “THE BIBLE”, was pictured a candlestick like a menorah. Beneath that, it said,

Edward looked at me to see if this held any significance.

I smiled uncomfortably because there was no use pretending to a mind reader that I had any idea what I was looking at other than a really old Bible.

“Perhaps it’s not a popular point in history classes these days,” he allowed, “but the Geneva Bible came before the King James Bible which was first printed in 1611. Most of what you see now is based off of that printing. But Carlisle’s grandfather,” he nodded to the plain portrait, “used this one in his congregation, and Carlisle’s father after him.”

I had very vague recollections of discussions of souls and God and how vampires related to all of that. I guess that part of the books hadn’t really stuck out to me enough to really remember. For some reason I felt like Edward disapproved of religious things.

“No, that’s not exactly right,” he corrected gently. “I’m simply not sure what place we have in all of that,” he smirked crookedly and looked down as if at a fond, but also irritating memory, “though my wife has made some excellent points over the years. What about you? Do you believe in God?”

I shrugged. Us Martins were more of the twice a year attendee types, or not at all, in recent years. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought, I guess. But I guess I do. Do you?”

He nodded. “To be concise, yes.”

“Why don’t you think you have a place in religious things?” Unless that was rude to ask. I felt my shoulders tighten in self-consciousness, and I clasped my hands together. I had never been a shy person, and I still wasn’t, but navigating very new social spheres was difficult when my mind was so preoccupied with pain and sadness. It left little room for a conversational filter.

“It’s not rude. I’m the one who began the conversation. And, I would say that I don’t know exactly what our place is, not that there isn’t one.”

I appreciated his benevolence and unclasped my hands, though my shoulders didn’t get the memo that I could relax and not worry about offending. I hadn’t ever really talked about God much before at all and new thoughts swirled around in my head. They were a welcome distraction. “I guess if you don’t die, then you don’t get to go to heaven…or hell.”

He nodded. “True. Right now the pain in your throat is the worst it will ever be, but I suppose that it is probably still better than hell.”

It was terrible, the dry, choking burn. Terrible, and ever-present. If I focused on it I thought it might drive me mad. If I focused on it, it was like my entire consciousness condensed down into that one part of reality and I almost felt like I was going to fall back into the bath of lava which had turned me into what I was. I swallowed and my breathing became a touch shallow. I tried to focus on the page to divert my thoughts and Edward began speaking again, perhaps to give me something else to think about.

“My theory is, our kind get both at once, heaven and hell merged together. Immortality without rest for our minds. Our bodies need nothing, but crave the very worst of things. We go through hellfire to arrive in this state of existence, and we keep some of it with us always, but we can experience the world around us fully and dynamically. We are beautiful, but deadly. Godlike, but rulers of nothing. We are angels and demons–both, at once.”

This outlook was like a proverbial glass filled to the halfway mark. I wasn’t sure if I found it comforting or not, or if the glass was half full, or half empty. “And after?”

“After?”

“You can be destroyed, right?”

“Ah. I think, for us, there might be no after, that we cease to be, that it is possible we exchanged one afterlife for another, through venom.”

I frowned. This wasn’t as comforting as the old words I had read in the fragile-leafed Bible. It seemed cold, hard, and unfeeling.

“No,” he smiled sadly, “I suppose it’s not very comforting. I’m sorry. You’ll be glad to know that Carlisle doesn’t share my views and that I don’t claim to be an expert. I didn’t mean to dump my views on you. It’s probably the wrong time to broach the loaded subject of theology and vampirism.” He chuckled.

But it wasn’t the weight of the subject matter which bothered me. It was the unfairness. That’s what made my mouth taste bitter and venom surge with anger. “If what you’re saying is true,” I said, and heard the matching bitterness in my voice, “then I didn’t make any exchange. Venom stole my life and my afterlife, and forced this one on me.”

He nodded sympathetically. “Very few good people would make the exchange willingly.”

Your wife did. I thought in emotional confusion, maybe envying her, maybe angry, I wasn’t sure.

“Yes, she did. An exception.” He was still kind, even though my tone had not been. “You must think I am a very selfish creature when I say that I am glad I have her and she didn’t die and travel on to a better afterlife. But I do regret it for her, even if she doesn’t regret it for herself.”

I shook my head at myself, and at him. For someone I hadn’t known for more than a few days, it was strange to feel that this was such an irritatingly typical sentiment for him to express. But really, how could I blame Bella for wanting to live for the sake of her husband and daughter? And how could I blame a man for wanting to keep his wife, especially since he hadn’t taken anything she wasn’t willing to give. Besides, what if hell was what waited for her instead? Or nothing? This existence was better than those two options, wasn’t it?

“Which is a great way to judge the fullness of the glass, I’d say,” he concluded, responding to my un-articulated thoughts as he opened the holy book back to Matthew 6 and shut the glass. “There are worse ways to spend eternity. You just have to find your place in it. You will, too. In time. You don’t have the perspective to see it, but you are doing well. Hang in there. Stick with Esme and Carlisle–they won’t steer you wrong, and they are both far more optimistic than I.” He gave a self-deprecating smile and left me in a darkening library to contemplate eternity.