Stephenie Meyer - New Moon. Read more New Moon (The Twilight Saga, Book 2) · Read more · Stephenie Meyer - Twikight 02 - New Moon. Read more. Download Emily of New Moon free in PDF & EPUB format. Download Lucy Maud Montgomery 's Emily of New Moon for your site, tablet. sunlight—the kind of blinding clear sun that never shone on my drizzly new hometown in. Forks, Washington—and second, I was looking at my Grandma Marie.
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Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY Visit our Web site at Meyer , Stephenie, —New Moon a novel / b) Stepheme Meyer—1st ed p cm. download twilight new moon ebook pdf free. Download Twilight New Moon Ebook Pdf Free. 11 Reads 0 Votes 1 Part Story. bestdentratu By bestdentratu. When the Cullens, including her beloved Edward, leave Forks rather than risk revealing that they are vampires, it is almost too much for.
It was only a dream. I took a deep breath, and then jumped again when my alarm went off. The little calendar in the corner of the clock's display informed me that today was September thirteenth. Only a dream, but prophetic enough in one way, at least.
Today was my birthday. I was officially eighteen years old. I'd been dreading this day for months. All through the perfect summer—the happiest summer I had ever had, the happiest summer anyone anywhere had ever had, and the rainiest summer in the history of the Olympic Peninsula—this bleak date had lurked in ambush, waiting to spring. And now that it had hit, it was even worse than I'd feared it would be. I could feel it—I was older. Every day I got older, but this was different, worse, quantifiable.
I was eighteen. And Edward never would be. When I went to brush my teeth, I was almost surprised that the face in the mirror hadn't changed. I stared at myself, looking for some sign of impending wrinkles in my ivory skin. The only creases were the ones on my forehead, though, and I knew that if I could manage to relax, they would disappear.
I couldn't. My eyebrows stayed lodged in a worried line over my anxious brown eyes. It was just a dream, I reminded myself again. Just a dream… but also my worst nightmare. I skipped breakfast, in a hurry to get out of the house as quickly as possible. I wasn't entirely able to avoid my dad, and so I had to spend a few minutes acting cheerful. I honestly tried to be excited about the gifts I'd asked him not to get me, but every time I had to smile, it felt like I might start crying.
I struggled to get a grip on myself as I drove to school. The vision of Gran—I would not think of it as me—was hard to get out of my head. I couldn't feel anything but despair until I pulled into the familiar parking lot behind Forks High School and spotted Edward leaning motionlessly against his polished silver Volvo, like a marble tribute to some forgotten pagan god of beauty.
The dream had not done him justice. And he was waiting there for me, just the same as every other day. Despair momentarily vanished; wonder took its place.
Even after half a year with him, I still couldn't believe that I deserved this degree of good fortune. His sister Alice was standing by his side, waiting for me, too. Of course Edward and Alice weren't really related in Forks the story was that all the Cullen siblings were adopted by Dr.
Carlisle Culler and his wife, Esme, both plainly too young to have teenage children , but their skin was precisely the same pale shade, their eyes had the same strange golden tint, with the same deep, bruise-like shadows beneath them. Her face, like his, was also startlingly beautiful. To someone in the know—someone like me—these similarities marked them for what they were. The sight of Alice waiting there—her tawny eyes brilliant with excitement, and a small silver-wrapped square in her hands—made me frown.
I'd told Alice I didn't want anything, anything, not gifts or even attention, for my birthday. Obviously, my wishes were being ignored. I slammed the door of my '53 Chevy truck—a shower of rust specks fluttered down to the wet blacktop—and walked slowly toward where they waited. Alice skipped forward to meet me, her pixie face glowing under her spiky black hair. The last thing I wanted was some kind of celebration of the black event. She ignored me.
She finally seemed to process my mood. Did you like the scrapbook your mom sent you? And the camera from Charlie? Of course she would know what my birthday presents were. Edward wasn't the only member of his family with unusual skills.
Alice would have "seen" what my parents were planning as soon as they'd decided that themselves. They're great. You're only a senior once. Might as well document the experience. I took it eagerly, forgetting, for a moment, my glum mood. His skin was, as always, smooth, hard, and very cold. He gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. I looked into his liquid topa2 eyes, and my heart gave a not-quite-so-gentle squeeze of its own. Hearing the stutter in my heartbeats, he smiled again.
He lifted his free hand and traced one cool fingertip around the outside of my lips as he spoke. That is correct. It was something that could only be picked up in an earlier century. Most people seem to enjoy things like birthdays and gifts. Everyone is supposed to be nice to you today and give you your way, Bella. What's the worst that could happen? Beside me, Edward's smile tightened into a hard line.
He sighed. But Edward was dead set against any future that changed me. Any future that made me like him—that made me immortal, too. An impasse, he called it. I couldn't really see Edward's point, to be honest. What was so great about mortality? Being a vampire didn't look like such a terrible thing—not the way the Cullens did it, anyway. From her expression, she was up to exactly the kind of thing I'd been hoping to avoid. Newton about it. She's trading your shifts.
She said to tell you 'Happy Birthday. Berty said we needed to see it performed to fully appreciate it—that's how Shakespeare intended it to be presented. Berty said it was the best. If Bella wants to watch a movie, then she can. It's her birthday. See you tonight, Bella! It'll be fun, you'll see. We're going to be late for class. Edward and I had been together too long now to be an object of gossip anymore. Even Mike Newton didn't bother to give me the glum stare that used to make me feel a little guilty.
He smiled now instead, and I was glad he seemed to have accepted that we could only be friends. Mike had changed over the summer—his face had lost some of the roundness, making his cheekbones more prominent, and he was wearing his pale blond hair a new way; instead of bristly, it was longer and gelled into a carefully casual disarray.
It was easy to see where his inspiration came from—but Edward's look wasn't something that could be achieved through imitation.
As the day progressed, I considered ways to get out of whatever was going down at the Cullen house tonight. It would be bad enough to have to celebrate when I was in the mood to mourn. But, worse than that, this was sure to involve attention and gifts.
Attention is never a good thing, as any other accident-prone klutz would agree. No one wants a spotlight when they're likely to fall on their face. And I'd very pointedly asked—well, ordered really—that no one give me any presents this year. It looked like Charlie and Renee weren't the only ones who had decided to overlook that. I'd never had much money, and that had never bothered me.
Renee had raised me on a kindergarten teacher's salary. Charlie wasn't getting rich at his job, either—he was the police chief here in the tiny town of Forks. My only personal income came from the three days a week I worked at the local sporting goods store. In a town this small, I was lucky to have a job. Every penny I made went into my microscopic college fund. College was Plan B. I was still hoping for Plan A, but Edward was just so stubborn about leaving me human… Edward had a lot of money—I didn't even want to think about how much.
Money meant next to nothing to Edward or the rest of the Cullens. It was just something that accumulated when you had unlimited time on your hands and a sister who had an uncanny ability to predict trends in the stock market. Edward didn't seem to understand why I objected to him spending money on me—why it made me uncomfortable if he took me to an expensive restaurant in Seattle, why he wasn't allowed to download me a car that could reach speeds over fifty-five miles an hour, or why I wouldn't let him pay my college tuition he was ridiculously enthusiastic about Plan B.
Edward thought I was being unnecessarily difficult. But how could I let him give me things when I had nothing to reciprocate with? He, for some unfathomable reason, wanted to be with me. Anything he gave me on top of that just threw us more out of balance. As the day went on, neither Edward nor Alice brought my birthday up again, and I began to relax a little. We sat at our usual table for lunch.
A strange kind of truce existed at that table. The three of us—Edward, Alice, and I—sat on the extreme southern end of the table. Now that the "older" and somewhat scarier in Emmett's case, certainly Cullen siblings had graduated, Alice and Edward did not seem quite so intimidating, and we did not sit here alone.
My other friends, Mike and Jessica who were in the awkward post-breakup friendship phase , Angela and Ben whose relationship had survived the summer , Eric, Conner, Tyler, and Lauren though that last one didn't really count in the friend category all sat at the same table, on the other side of an invisible line. That line dissolved on sunny days when Edward and Alice always skipped school, and then the conversation would swell out effortlessly to include me.
Edward and Alice didn't find this minor ostracism odd or hurtful the way I would have. They barely noticed it. People always felt strangely ill at ease with the Cullens, almost afraid for some reason they couldn't explain to themselves. I was a rare exception to that rule. Sometimes it bothered Edward how very comfortable I was with being close to him.
The Twilight Saga - New Moon
He thought he was hazardous to my health—an opinion I rejected vehemently whenever he voiced it. The afternoon passed quickly. School ended, and Edward walked me to my truck as he usually did. But this time, he held the passenger door open for me. Alice must have been taking his car home so that he could keep me from making a run for it. I folded my arms and made no move to get out of the rain.
I climbed in the opened door, wishing he'd taken the other offer. Edward played with the radio while I drove, shaking his head in disapproval. I didn't like it when he picked on my truck. The truck was great—it had personality.
Drive your own car. I was hardly ever bad-tempered with Edward, and my tone made him press his lips together to keep from smiling. When I parked in front of Charlie's house, he reached over to take my face in his hands.
He handled me very carefully, pressing just the tips of his fingers softly against my temples, my cheekbones, my jawline. Like I was especially breakable. Which was exactly the case—compared with him, at least. His sweet breath fanned across my face. His golden eyes smoldered. As he intended, no doubt, I forgot all about my worries, and concentrated on remembering how to inhale and exhale.
His mouth lingered on mine, cold and smooth and gentle, until I wrapped my arms around his neck and threw myself into the kiss with a little too much enthusiasm. I could feel his lips curve upward as he let go of my face and reached back to unlock my grip on him. Edward had drawn many careful lines for our physical relationship, with the intent being to keep me alive. Though I respected the need for maintaining a safe distance between my skin and his razor-sharp, venom-coated teeth, I tended to forget about trivial things like that when he was kissing me.
He pressed his lips gently to mine one more time and then pulled away, folding my arms across my stomach. My pulse was thudding in my ears.
I put one hand over my heart. It drummed hyperactively under my palm. I rolled my eyes. When I perched on the edge of the sofa in front of him, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against his chest. It wasn't exactly as comfortable as a sofa cushion would be, what with his chest being hard and cold—and perfect—as an ice sculpture, but it was definitely preferable.
He pulled the old afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over me so I wouldn't freeze beside his body. Romeo was one of my favorite fictional characters. Until I'd met Edward, I'd sort of had a thing for him. And then, a few minutes after their wedding, he kills Juliet's cousin. That's not very brilliant. Mistake after mistake. Could he have destroyed his own happiness any more thoroughly? The movie eventually captured my interest, thanks in large part to Edward whispering Romeo's lines in my ear—his irresistible, velvet voice made the actor's voice sound weak and coarse by comparison.
And I did cry, to his amusement, when Juliet woke and found her new husband dead. All you have to do is throw down one tiny vial of plant extracts…" "What? I'm not even sure how many ways Carlisle tried to kill himself in the beginning… after he realized what he'd become…" His voice, which had grown serious, turned light again.
Like I said, it's not as easy for me as it is for a human. I could see it all so clearly—the blinding sun, the heat waves coming off the concrete as I ran with desperate haste to find the sadistic vampire who wanted to torture me to death.
James, waiting in the mirrored room with my mother as his hostage—or so I'd thought. I hadn't known it was all a ruse. Just as James hadn't known that Edward was racing to save me; Edward made it in time, but it had been a close one.
Unthinkingly, my fingers traced the crescent-shaped scar on my hand that was always just a few degrees cooler than the rest of my skin. I shook my head—as if I could shake away the bad memories—and tried to grasp what Edward meant. My stomach plunged uncomfortably. Abruptly, I was furious. They are the closest thing our world has to a royal family, I suppose. Carlisle lived with them briefly in his early years, in Italy, before he settled in America—do you remember the story?
The most vivid, most wildly colorful canvas there, the largest, was from Carlisle's time in Italy. Of course I remembered the calm quartet of men, each with the exquisite face of a seraph, painted into the highest balcony overlooking the swirling mayhem of color. Though the painting was centuries old, Carlisle—the blond angel—remained unchanged. And I remembered the three others, Carlisle's early acquaintances. Edward had never used the name Volturi for the beautiful trio, two black-haired, one snow white.
He'd called them Aro, Caius, and Marcus, nighttime patrons of the arts… "Anyway, you don't irritate the Volturi," Edward went on, interrupting ray reverie. My anger turned to horror. I took his marble face between my hands and held it very tightly. I thought we'd established that all the bad luck is my fault?
He chuckled. I'm not really that interesting. Abruptly, he pulled himself up into a more formal posture, shifting me to the side so that we were no longer touching. Edward smiled. After a moment, I heard the sound of the police cruiser pulling into the driveway.
I reached out and took his hand firmly. My dad could deal with that much. Charlie came in with a pizza box in his hands. Thanks, Dad.
He was used to Edward passing on dinner. I looked at Charlie hopefully. Maybe he had some concept of birthdays as stay-at-home, family affairs—this was my first birthday with him, the first birthday since my mom, Renee, had remarried and gone to live in Florida, so I didn't know what he would expect. He ought to know better than that—I'd always been coordinationally challenged. The camera glanced off the tip of my finger, and tumbled toward the floor.
Edward snagged it before it could crash onto the linoleum. You know how your mother gets—she'll be wanting to see the pictures faster than you can take them. I turned the camera on Edward, and snapped the first picture. Hey, say hi to Alice for me. She hasn't been over in a while. Charlie was crazy about Alice. He'd become attached last spring when she'd helped me through my awkward convalescence; Charlie would be fore'ter grateful to her for saving him from the horror of an almost-adult daughter who needed help showering.
You kids have fun tonight. Charlie was already edging toward the living room and the TV. Edward smiled, triumphant, and took my hand to pull me from the kitchen. When we got to the truck, he opened the passenger door for me again, and this time I didn't argue.
I still had a hard time finding the obscure turnoff to his house in the dark. Edward drove north through Forks, visibly chafing at the speed limit enforced by my prehistoric Chevy.
The engine groaned even louder than usual as he pushed it over fifty. A nice little Audi coupe. Very quiet, lots of power…" "There's nothing wrong with my truck. And speaking of expensive nonessentials, if you know what's good for you, you didn't spend any money on birthday presents. Cut us a little slack, and don't be too difficult tonight. They're all very excited. Don't worry, she'll be on her best behavior. Like I could just not worry, that easy.
Unlike Alice, Edward's other "adopted" sister, the golden blond and exquisite Rosalie, didn't like me much. Actually, the feeling was a little bit stronger than just dislike. As far as Rosalie was concerned, I was an unwelcome intruder into her family's secret life. I felt horribly guilty about the present situation, guessing that Rosalie and Emmett's prolonged absence was my fault, even as I furtively enjoyed not having to see her Emmett, Edward's playful bear of a brother, I did miss.
He was in many ways just like the big brother I'd always wanted… only much, much more terrifying. Edward decided to change the subject. He obviously wished he'd stuck to the subject of Rosalie. It felt like we'd had this argument a lot today. We were pulling up to the house now.
Bright light shined from every window on the first two floors. A long line of glowing Japanese lanterns hung from the porch eaves, reflecting a soft radiance on the huge cedars that surrounded the house. Big bowls of flowers—pink roses—lined the wide stairs up to the front doors.
I moaned. Edward took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He came around to get my door, and offered me his hand. He helped me out of the car, pulled me up the stairs, and was still laughing as he opened the door for me. They were all waiting in the huge white living room; when I walked through the door, they greeted me with a loud chorus of "Happy birthday, Bella!
Alice, I assumed, had covered every flat surface with pink candles and dozens of crystal bowls filled with hundreds of roses. There was a table with a white cloth draped over it next to Edward's grand piano, holding a pink birthday cake, more roses, a stack of glass plates, and a small pile of silver-wrapped presents.
It was a hundred times worse than I'd imagined. Edward, sensing my distress, wrapped an encouraging arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head. Edward's parents, Carlisle and Esme—impossibly youthful and lovely as ever—were the closest to the door.
Esme hugged me carefully, her soft, caramel-colored hair brushing against my cheek as she kissed my forehead, and then Carlisle put his arm around my shoulders. Rosalie didn't smile, but at least she didn't glare.
Emmett's face was stretched into a huge grin. It had been months since I'd seen them; I'd forgotten how gloriously beautiful Rosalie was—it almost hurt to look at her.
And had Emmett always been so… big? He laughed, "I have to step out for a second"—he paused to wink conspicuously at Alice—"Don't do anything funny while I'm gone. Jasper smiled, too, but kept his distance. He leaned, long and blond, against the post at the foot of the stairs. During the days we'd had to spend cooped up together in Phoenix, I'd thought he'd gotten over his aversion to me.
But he'd gone back to exactly how he'd acted before—avoiding me as much as possible—the moment he was free from that temporary obligation to protect me. I knew it wasn't personal, just a precaution, and I tried not to be overly sensitive about it. Jasper had more trouble sticking to the Cullens' diet than the rest of them; the scent of human blood was much harder for him to resist than the others—he hadn't been trying as long.
She put her cool hand under my elbow and towed me to the table with the cake and the shiny packages. I put on my best martyr face. The box was so light that it felt empty. The tag on top said that it was from Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper. Selfconsciously, I tore the paper off and then stared at the box it concealed. It was something electrical, with lots of numbers in the name. I opened the box, hoping for further illumination.
But the box was empty. Jasper laughed. I heard his booming laugh from my truck, and I couldn't help laughing, too.
She held a small, flat square in her hand. I turned to give Edward a basilisk glare. He pushed in behind Jasper, who had also drifted closer than usual to get a good look. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, leaving my skin tingling from his touch. I inhaled deeply and turned to Alice. Emmett chuckled with delight.
I took the little package, rolling my eyes at Edward while I stuck my finger under the edge of the paper and jerked it under the tape. A single drop of blood oozed from the tiny cut. It all happened very quickly then.
He threw himself at me, flinging me back across the table. It fell, as I did, scattering the cake and the presents, the flowers and the plates. I landed in the mess of shattered crystal. Jasper slammed into Edward, and the sound was like the crash of boulders in a rock slide.
There was another noise, a grisly snarling that seemed to be coming from deep in Jasper's chest. Jasper tried to shove past Edward, snapping his teeth just inches from Edward's face. Emmett grabbed Jasper from behind in the next second, locking him into his massive steel grip, but Jasper struggled on, his wild, empty eyes focused only on me. Beyond the shock, there was also pain. I'd tumbled down to the floor by the piano, with my arms thrown out instinctively to catch my fall, into the jagged shards of glass.
Only now did I feel the searing, stinging pain that ran from my wrist to the crease inside my elbow. Dazed and disoriented, I looked up from the bright red blood pulsing out of my arm—into the fevered eyes of the six suddenly ravenous vampires. Centuries of experience in the emergency room were evident in his quiet, authoritative voice.
Edward's face was whiter than bone as he wheeled to crouch over me, taking a clearly defensive position.
A low warning growl slid from between his clenched teeth. I could tell that he wasn't breathing. Rosalie, her divine face strangely smug, stepped in front of Jasper—keeping a careful distance from his teeth—and helped Emmett wrestle him through the glass door that Esme held open, one hand pressed over her mouth and nose. Esme's heart-shaped face was ashamed. A second passed, and then Edward nodded slowly and relaxed his stance. Carlisle knelt beside me, leaning close to examine my arm.
I could feel the shock frozen on my face, and I tried to compose it. He shook his head. He twisted it around my arm above the elbow to form a tourniquet. The smell of the blood was making me dizzy. My ears rang. If he took me to the hospital, there would be no way to keep this from Charlie. Edward lifted me effortlessly, while Carlisle kept the pressure steady on my arm.
Edward's face was like stone. Alice was there. Carlisle's black bag was already on the table, a small but brilliant desk light plugged into the wall.
Edward sat me gently into a chair, and Carlisle pulled up another. He went to work at once. Edward stood over me, still protective, still not breathing. But his jaw was rigid; his eyes burned with the intensity of the thirst he fought, so much worse for him than it was for the others.
Get some fresh air.
Carlisle decided to intercede. I'm sure he's upset with himself, and I doubt he'll listen to anyone but you right now. Edward's eyes narrowed as we ganged up on him, but, finally, he nodded once and sprinted smoothly through the kitchen's back door. I was sure he hadn't taken a breath since I'd sliced my finger. A numb, dead feeling was spreading through my arm. Though it erased the sting, it reminded me of the gash, and I watched Carlisle's face carefully to distract me from what his hands were doing.
His hair gleamed gold in the bright light as he bent over my arm. I could feel the faint stirrings of unease in the pit of my stomach, but I was determined not to let my usual squeamishness get the best of me. There was no pain now, just a gentle tugging sensation that I tried to ignore. No reason to get sick like a baby.
If she hadn't been in my line of sight, I wouldn't have noticed Alice give up and steal out of the room. With a tiny, apologetic smile on her lips, she disappeared through the kitchen doorway.
His relaxed calm was only more amazing set in direct contrast with everyone else's reaction. I couldn't find any trace of anxiety in his face. He worked with quick, sure movements.
The only sound besides our quiet breathing was the soft plink, plink as the tiny fragments of glass dropped one by one to the table. Though the rest of them had given up the traditional diet of vampires just as absolutely as Carlisle had, he was the only one who could bear the smell of my blood without suffering from the intense temptation.
Clearly, this was much more difficult than he made it seem. And weren't around any blood? I was surprised at how much glass there seemed to be in my arm.
I was tempted to glance at the growing pile, just to check the size, but I knew that idea would not be helpful to my no-vomiting strategy. It didn't make sense to me—the years of struggle and self-denial he must have spent to get to the point where he could endure this so easily. Besides, I wanted to keep him talking; the conversation kept my mind off the queasy feeling in my stomach. His dark eyes were calm and thoughtful as he answered. What I enjoy the very most is when my… enhanced abilities let me save someone who would otherwise have been lost.
It's pleasant knowing that, thanks to what I can do, some people's lives are better because I exist. Even the sense of smell is a useful diagnostic tool at times. I mulled that over while he poked around, making sure all the glass splinters were gone. Then he rummaged in his bag for new tools, and I tried not to picture a needle and thread. You didn't choose this kind of life, and yet you have to work so hard to be good. The smell was strange; it made my head spin.
The syrup stained my skin. But I'm trying to understand what you were thinking…" His face was suddenly serious again, and I wondered if his thoughts had gone to the same place that mine had.
Wondering what I would be thinking when—I refused to think if—it was me. The smell of alcohol burned in my nose. I didn't understand what he was doing, even when he lit the match. Then he threw it onto the alcohol-soaked fibers, and the sudden blaze made me jump. But never, in the nearly four hundred years now since I was born, have I ever seen anything to make me doubt whether God exists in some form or the other.
Not even the reflection in the mirror. Religion was the last thing I expected, all things considered. My own life was fairly devoid of belief.
Charlie considered himself a Lutheran, because that's what his parents had been, but Sundays he worshipped by the river with a fishing pole in his hand. Renee tried out a church now and then, but, much like her brief affairs with tennis, pottery, yoga, and French classes, she moved on by the time I was aware of her newest fad. It's a long shot, I'll admit," he continued in an offhand voice. But I hope, maybe foolishly, that we'll get some measure of credit for trying.
I couldn't imagine anyone, deity included, who wouldn't be impressed by Carlisle. Besides, the only kind of heaven I could appreciate would have to include Edward. Carlisle guessed the direction of my thoughts again. God and heaven exist… and so does hell. But he doesn't believe there is an afterlife for our kind.
The Twilight Saga - New Moon
The lightbulb flicked on over my head. His strength, his goodness, the brightness that shines out of him—and it only fuels that hope, that faith, more than ever. How could there not be more for one such as Edward? Could you take away his soul? If he'd asked me whether I would risk my soul for Edward, the reply would be obvious. But would I risk Edward's soul? I pursed my lips unhappily. That wasn't a fair exchange. Carlisle sighed. He laughed, abruptly lightening the mood.
You're going to have to work this out with him. I think, in most other ways, that I've done the best I could with what I had to work with. But was it right to doom the others to this life?
I can't decide. I imagined what my life would be like if Carlisle had resisted the temptation to change his lonely existence… and shuddered. He stared unseeingly out the black windows. I realized Carlisle's memory of them, despite the brevity of their contact, would be perfectly clear.
Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Masen. His father, Edward Senior, never regained consciousness in the hospital. He died in the first wave of the influenza. But Elizabeth was alert until almost the very end. Edward looks a great deal like her—she had that same strange bronze shade to her hair, and her eyes were exactly the same color green. She hurt her own chances of survival trying to nurse him from her sickbed.
I expected that he would go first, he was so much worse off than she was. When the end came for her, it was very quick. It was just after sunset, and I'd arrived to relieve the doctors who'd been working all day. That was a hard time to pretend—there was so much work to be done, and I had no need of rest.
How I hated to go back to my house, to hide in the dark and pretend to sleep while so many were dying. I'd grown attached—always a dangerous thing to do considering the fragile nature of humans. I could see at once that she'd taken a bad turn. The fever was raging out of control, and her body was too weak to fight anymore. The fever was so high, she probably couldn't even tell how unnaturally cold mine felt. Everything felt cold to her skin.
Her eyes were hard, like stones, like emeralds. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward. She looked it me with those piercing eyes, and, for one instant, I felt certain that she knew my secret. Then the fever overwhelmed her, and she never regained consciousness. She died within an hour of making her demand. Just one other creature who could really know me, rather than what I pretended to be. But I could never justify it to myself—doing what had been done to me.
It was clear that he had only hours left. Beside him, his mother, her face somehow not yet peaceful, not even in death. I could see it clearly, too, as he spoke—the despair of the hospital, the overwhelming atmosphere of death. Edward burning with fever, his life slipping away with each tick of the clock… I shuddered again, and forced the picture from my mind.
How could she guess what I could do? Could anyone really want that for her son? Sick as he was, he was still beautiful. There was something pure and good about his face. The kind of face I would have wanted my son to have. I wheeled his mother to the morgue first, and then I came back for him.
No one noticed that he was still breathing. There weren't enough hands, enough eyes, to keep track of half of what the patients needed. The morgue was empty—of the living, at least. I stole him out the back door, and carried him across the rooftops back to my home.
I settled for recreating the wounds I'd received myself, so many centuries earlier in London. I felt bad about that later. It was more painful and lingering than necessary. I've never been sorry that I saved Edward. He smiled at me. He came through the shadowy dining room, walking slowly for him.
His face was smooth, unreadable, but there was something wrong with his eyes—something he was trying very hard to hide. I felt a spasm of unease in my stomach.
I looked down at my shirt; the light blue cotton was soaked and spotted with my blood. My right shoulder was covered in thick pink frosting. You'd give Charlie a heart attack the way you look.
I'll have Alice get you something. I looked at Carlisle anxiously. You being put in danger, because of what we are. I couldn't agree with that. Carlisle offered me his hand and helped me up from the table. I followed him out into the main room. Esme had come back; she was mopping the floor where I'd fallen—with straight bleach from the smell of it. Alice and Edward came in the back doors. Alice hurried to my side, but Edward hung back, his face indecipherable. Charlie wouldn't notice, I was sure.
The long white bandage on my arm didn't look nearly as serious when I was no longer spattered in gore. Charlie was never surprised to see me bandaged. Even though we were upstairs, with the door closed, perhaps he could hear me.
Her face tensed. It's all so much more of challenge for him, and he hates feeling weak. You'll tell him that I'm not mad at him, not at all, won't you? As I got to the bottom of the staircase, he held it open without a word. She scooped up the two packages, one half-opened, and my camera from under the piano, and pressed them into my good arm. I could see them stealing quick glances at their impassive son, much like I was. It was a relief to be outside; I hurried past the lanterns and the roses, now unwelcome reminders.
Edward kept pace with me silently. He opened the passenget side for me, and I climbed in without complaint. On the dashboard was a big red ribbon, stuck to the new stereo. I pulled it off, throwing it to the floor. As Edward slid into the other side, I kicked the ribbon under my seat. He didn't look at me or the stereo.
Neither of us switched it on, and the silence was somehow intensified by the sudden thunder of the engine. He drove too fast down the dark, serpentine lane. The silence was making me insane. I cringed at his remoteness. For what? If you'd cut yourself at Mike Newton's house, with Jessica there and Angela and your other normal friends, the worst that could possibly have happened would be what?
Evermore is a fantasy novel by Alyson Nol released in Evermore was an immediate bestseller and, as of. The Immortals is a sequence of novels written by Alyson Nol, focusing on psychics and Immortals. Alyson Nol - Evermore 6. Evermore: The Immortals by Alyson Nol. Tweet about the. Der blaue Mond, Band 2 The ImmortalsSeries. Soul Seekers Series, coming ! Alyson Noel - Gli immortali. Trama e download dei 3 libri ebook in formato pdf appartenenti alla serie urban fantasy: Evermore, Blue Moon.
O Shadowland no esta indooo.The box was so light that it felt empty. I stole him out the back door, and carried him across the rooftops back to my home. I dressed for school mechanically, waiting for the clouds to brighten. Jasper laughed. Search the history of over billion web pages on the Internet. I was a rare exception to that rule.
I'm sure he's upset with himself, and I doubt he'll listen to anyone but you right now. We'd visit, of course, wouldn't we?
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