Life and Death

by Stephenie Meyer

  I choked on the scream that was trying to rip out of my throat, fighting through the bile that flooded my esophagus. There wasn’t enough air, I couldn’t fill my lungs. A strange, smothered groan seemed to come from deep inside my torso.

  My body automatically coughed out the vomit so I could breathe, even though breathing felt like it was tearing my insides apart. The pain from my broken arm was throbbing in the background now—my leg was center stage. That pain was still peaking. I was splayed awkwardly on the floor in a pool of my own vomit, but I couldn’t move anything.

  She was down on her knees by my head now, and the red light was flashing in her hand.

  “Time for your close-up, Beau.”

  I coughed more acid from my throat, wheezing.

  “Now, what I’d like here is a retraction. Can you do that for me? You do me a favor, I speed this up a little. Does that sound fair?”

  My eyes couldn’t focus on her face—the red flashing light seemed hazy.

  “Just tell Edythe how much this all hurts,” she coaxed. “Tell her that you want vengeance—you deserve it. She brought you into this. In a very real sense, she’s the one who’s hurting you here. Try to sell it.”

  My eyes closed.

  She lifted my head with surprising gentleness—though the movement sent ricochets of torture through my arms and ribs.

  “Beau,” she said softly, like I was sleeping and she was trying to wake me. “Beau? You can do this. Tell Edythe to come after me.”

  She shook me lightly, and a sound like a sigh leaked out of my lungs.

  “Beau dear, you have so many bones left—and the big ones can be broken in so many places. Do what I want, please.”

  I looked at her out-of-focus face. She wasn’t making me a real offer. Nothing I said now would save me. And there was too much at stake.

  Carefully, I shook my head once. Maybe Edythe would know what I meant.

  “It doesn’t want to scream,” she said in a funny little singsong voice. “Should we make it scream?”

  I waited for the next snap.

  Instead, she gently lifted my good arm and held my hand to her lips. The next pain was hardly even pain, compared to the rest. She could have easily taken off my finger, but she just nipped it. Her teeth didn’t even go that deep.

  I barely reacted, but she jumped up and spun away. My head thumped against the ground, and my broken ribs screamed. I watched her, strangely detached as she paced the far end of the room, snarling and shaking her head back and forth. She’d left the camera by my head, still running.

  The first hint of what she’d done was the heat—my finger was so hot. I was surprised I could even feel that over the bigger agonies. But I remembered Carine’s story. I knew what had started. I didn’t have much time.

  She was still trying to calm herself—the blood, that was the problem. She’d gotten some of my blood in her mouth, but she didn’t want to kill me yet, so she had to fight off the frenzy. She was distracted, but it wouldn’t take much to catch her attention.

  The heat was building fast. I tried to ignore that, to ignore the stabbing in my chest. My hand shot out and I had the camera. I raised it up as high as I could and smashed it back toward the ground.

  And I was flying backward, into the broken mirrors. The glass punctured my shoulders, my scalp. The impact seemed to rebreak all of my broken bones. But that wasn’t why I screamed.

  Fire had ignited my bitten finger—flames exploded across my palm. Heat was scorching up my wrist. It was fire that was more than fire—a pain that was more than pain.

  The other agonies were nothing. Broken bones weren’t pain. Not like this.

  The screaming sounded like it was coming from someplace outside my body—it was an unbroken yowling that was like an animal again.

  My eyes were fixed, staring, and I saw the red light flashing in the tracker’s hand. She’d been too fast, and I’d failed.

  But I didn’t care anymore.

  Blood was running down my arm, pooling under my elbow.

  The tracker’s nostrils were flared, her eyes wild, her teeth bared. The blood dripped onto the floor, but I couldn’t hear it over the screaming. Here was my last shred of hope. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself now. She would have to kill me. Finally.

  Her mouth opened wide.

  I waited, screaming.

  23. THE CHOICE

  ANOTHER SCREAM ON TOP OF MINE—A SHRIEK LIKE A CHAINSAW CUTting through rebar.

  The hunter lunged, but her teeth snapped closed an inch from my face as something yanked her back, flung her out of my sight.

  The fire pooled in the crease of my elbow, and I screamed.

  I wasn’t alone, there were others screaming—the metallic snarl was joined by a high keening that bounced off the walls and then cut off suddenly. A thrumming growl was grinding underneath the other sounds. More metal tearing, shredding …

  “No!” someone howled in an agony to match mine. “No, no, no, no!”

  This voice meant something to me, even through the burning that was so much more than that. Though the flames had reached my shoulder, this voice still claimed my attention. Even screaming, she sounded like an angel.

  “Beau, please,” Edythe sobbed. “Please, please, please, Beau, please!”

  I tried to answer, but my mouth was disconnected from the rest of me. My screams were gone, but only because there was no more air.

  “Carine!” Edythe shrieked. “Help me! Beau, please, please, Beau, please!”

  She was cradling my head in her lap, and her fingers were pressing hard against my scalp. Her face was unfocused, just like the hunter’s. I was falling down a tunnel in my head. The fire was coming with me, though, just as sharp as before.

  Something cool blew into my mouth, filling my lungs. My lungs pushed back. Another cool breath.

  Edythe came into focus, her perfect face twisted and tortured.

  “Keep breathing, Beau. Breathe.”

  She put her lips against mine and filled my lungs again.

  There was gold around the edges of my vision—another set of cold hands.

  “Archie, make splints for his leg and arm. Edythe, straighten out his airways. Which is the worst bleed?”

  “Here, Carine.”

  I stared at her face while the pressure against my head eased. My screams were just a broken whimper now. The pain wasn’t any less—it was worse. But the screaming didn’t help me, and it did hurt Edythe. As long as I kept my eyes on her face, I could remember something beyond the burning.

  “My bag, please. Hold your breath, Archie, it will help. Thank you, Eleanor, now leave, please. He’s lost blood, but the wounds aren’t too deep. I think his ribs are the biggest problem now. Find me tape.”

  “Something for the pain,” Edythe hissed.

  “There—I don’t have hands. Will you?”

  “This will make it better,” Edythe promised.

  Someone was straightening my leg. Edythe was holding her breath, waiting, I think, for me to react. But it didn’t hurt like my arm.

  “Edythe—”

  “Shhh, Beau, it’s going to be okay. I swear, it’s going to be fine.”

  “E—it’s—not—”

  Something was digging into my scalp and something else was yanking tight against my broken arm. This tweaked my ribs, and I lost my breath.

  “Hold on, Beau,” Edythe begged. “Please just hold on.”

  I labored to pull in another breath.

  “Not—ribs,” I choked. “Hand.”

  “Can you understand him?” Carine’s voice was right next to my head.

  “Just rest, Beau. Breathe.”

  “No—hand,” I gasped out. “Edythe—right hand!”

  I couldn’t feel her cold hands on my skin—the fire was too hot. But I heard her gasp.

  “No!”

  “Edythe?” Carine asked, startled.

  “She bit him.” Edythe’s voice had no volume, like she’d run out of air, too.
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  Carine caught her breath in horror.

  “What do I do, Carine?” Edythe demanded.

  No one answered her. The tugging continued on my scalp, but it didn’t hurt.

  “Yes,” Edythe said through her teeth. “I can try. Archie—scalpel.”

  “There’s a good chance you’ll kill him yourself,” Archie said.

  “Give it to me,” she snapped. “I can do this.”

  I didn’t see what she did with the scalpel. I couldn’t feel anything else in my body anymore—nothing but the fire in my arm. But I watched her raise my hand to her mouth, like the hunter had. Fresh blood was welling from the wound. She put her lips over it.

  I screamed again, I couldn’t help it. It was like she was pulling the fire back down my arm.

  “Edythe,” Archie said.

  She didn’t react, her lips still pressed to my hand. The fire warred up and down my arm, sawing back and forth. Moans escaped through my clenched teeth.

  “Edythe,” Archie shouted. “Look.”

  “What is it, Archie?” Carine asked.

  Archie’s hand shot out and slapped Edythe’s cheek.

  “Stop it, Edythe! Stop it now!”

  My hand dropped away from her face. She looked at Archie with her eyes so wide they seemed like half her face. She gasped.

  “Archie!” Carine barked.

  “It’s too late,” Archie said. “We got here too late.”

  “You can see it?” Carine said in a more subdued voice.

  “There are only two futures left, Carine. He survives as one of us, or Edythe kills him trying to stop it from happening.”

  “No,” Edythe moaned.

  Carine was quiet. The tugging against my scalp slowed.

  Edythe dropped her face to mine. She kissed my eyelids, my cheeks, my lips. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  “It doesn’t need to be this slow,” Archie complained. “Carine?”

  “I made an oath, Archie.”

  “I didn’t,” he snarled.

  “Wait, wait,” Edythe said, her head snapping up. “He deserves a choice.”

  Her lips were at my ear. I clamped my teeth against the moaning, straining to listen.

  “Beau? I won’t make this decision for you. I won’t take this away from you. And I’ll understand, I promise, Beau. If you don’t want to live like this, I won’t fight you. I’ll respect what you want. I know it’s a horrible choice. I would give you any other option if I could. I would die if I could give your life back to you.” Her voice broke. “But I can’t make that trade. I can’t do anything—except stop the pain. If that’s what you want. You don’t have to be this. I can let you go—if that’s what you need.” It sounded like she was sobbing again. “Tell me what you want, Beau. Anything.”

  “You,” I spit through my teeth. “Just you.”

  “Are you sure?” she whispered.

  I groaned. The fire was reaching its fingers into my chest. “Yes,” I coughed out. “Just—let me stay—with you.”

  “Out of my way, Edythe,” Archie growled.

  Her voice lashed back like a whip. “I didn’t make any oaths, either.”

  Her face was at my throat, and I couldn’t feel anything besides the fire, but I could hear the quiet sound of her teeth cutting through my skin.

  24. CHANGE

  I ENDED UP CHANGING MY MIND.

  The fire in my arm wasn’t really so bad—the worst thing I’d ever felt up to that point, yes. But not the same as my entire body on fire.

  I begged her to make it stop. I told her that this was really all I wanted. For the burning to stop. Nothing else.

  I heard Archie telling her that everyone had said the same thing—reminding her that she’d begged Carine to kill her, too. Telling her my first decision was the one that counted.

  I remember at one point screaming at him to shut up.

  I think he apologized.

  But mostly it was hard to pay attention to what was happening outside the fire. I know they moved me. It seemed like I was on the bloody, vomit-covered wood floor for a long time, but it was hard to judge how the minutes passed. Sometimes Carine would say something and it would feel like a year had passed before Archie answered her, but it was probably just the fire that made the seconds into years.

  And then someone carried me. I saw the sun for another year-long second—it looked pale and cool. Then everything was dark. It was dark for a long time.

  I could still see Edythe. She held me in her arms, my face near hers, one of her hands on my cheek. Archie was nearby, too. I think he had my legs.

  When I screamed, she apologized, over and over again. I tried not to scream. It didn’t do any good. There was no relief, no release in it. The fire didn’t care what I did. It just burned.

  When my eyes were in focus, I could see dim lights moving across Edythe’s face, though all around her head it was just black. Aside from her voice and mine, the only sound was a deep, constant thrumming. Sometimes it got louder, and then it was quiet again.

  I didn’t realize I was back in the black car until it stopped. I didn’t hear the door open, but the sudden flash of light was blinding. I must have recoiled from it, because Edythe crooned in my ear.

  “We’re just stopping to refill the gas tank. We’ll be home soon, Beau. You’re doing so well. This will be over soon. I am so sorry.”

  I couldn’t feel her hand against my face—it should have been cool, but nothing was cool anymore. I tried to reach for it, but I couldn’t exactly tell what my limbs were doing. I think I was thrashing some, but Edythe and Archie kept me contained. Edythe guessed what I wanted. She grabbed my hand and held it to her lips. I wished I could feel it. I tried to grip her hand without knowing how to make the muscles move, or being able to feel them. Maybe I got it right. She didn’t let go.

  It got darker. Eventually, I couldn’t see her anymore. It was black as ink inside the car—there was no difference between having my eyes open or closed. I started to panic. The fire made the night like a sensory deprivation chamber; I couldn’t feel anything but pain—not the seat beneath me, not Archie restraining my legs, not Edythe holding my head, my hand. I was all alone with the burning, and I was terrified.

  I don’t know what I must have gasped out—my voice was totally gone now, either raw from screaming or burned past usability, I couldn’t gues which—but Edythe’s voice was in my ear again.

  “I’m right here, Beau. You’re not alone. I won’t leave you. I will be here. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you… .”

  Her voice calmed me—made the panic go away, if not the pain. I listened, keeping my breathing shallow so I could hear her better. I didn’t need to scream anymore. The burning only got more and never less, but I was adapting. It was all I could feel, but not all I could think about.

  “I never wanted this for you, Beau,” Edythe continued. “I would give anything to take this away. I’ve made so many mistakes. I should have stayed away from you, from the first day. I should never have come back again. I’ve destroyed your life, I’ve taken everything from you… .” It sounded like she was sobbing again.

  “No,” I tried to say, but I’m not sure if I even shaped the word with my mouth.

  “He’s probably far enough along that he’ll remember this,” Archie said softly.

  “I hope so,” Edythe said, her voice breaking.

  “I’m just saying, you might use the time more productively. There is so much he doesn’t know.”

  “You’re right, you’re right.” She sighed. “Where do I begin?”

  “You could explain about being thirsty,” Archie suggested. “That was the hardest part, when I first woke up. And we’ll be expecting a lot from him.”

  When Edythe answered, it was like she was spitting the words through her teeth. “I won’t hold him to that. He didn’t choose this. He’s free to become whatever he wants to be.”

  “Hah,” Archie said. “You know him better than that, Edythe. The ot
her way won’t be good enough for him. Do you see? He’ll be fine.”

  It was quiet while she tuned in to whatever Archie was seeing inside his head. Though I understood the silence, it still left me alone in the fire. I started panicking again.

  “I’m here, Beau, I’m here. Don’t be afraid.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll keep talking. There are so many things to tell you. The first one is that when this passes, when you’re … new, you won’t be exactly the same as I am, not in the very beginning. Being a young vampire means certain things, and the hardest to ignore is the thirst. You’ll be thirsty—all the time. You won’t be able to think about much else for a while. Maybe a year, maybe two. It’s different for everyone. As soon as this is over, I’ll take you hunting. You wanted to see that, didn’t you? We’ll bring Eleanor so you can see her bear impression—” She laughed once, a damaged little sound. “If you decide—if you want to live like us, it will be hard. Especially in the beginning. It might be too hard, and I understand that. We all do. If you want to try it my way, I’ll go with you. I can tell you who the human monsters are. There are options. Whatever you want. If … if you don’t want me with you, I’ll understand that, too, Beau. I swear I won’t follow you if you tell me not to—”

  “No,” I gasped. I heard myself that time, so I knew I’d done it right.

  “You don’t have to make any more decisions now. There’s time for that. Just know that I will respect any decision you make.” She took another deep breath. “I should probably warn you about your eyes. They won’t be blue anymore.” Another half-sob. “But don’t let them frighten you. They won’t stay so bright for long.

  “I suppose that’s a very small thing, though… . I should focus on the most important things. The hard things—the very worst thing. Oh, I’m so sorry, Beau. You can’t see your father or mother again. It’s not safe. You would hurt them—you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. And … there are rules. Rules that, as your creator, I’m bound by. We’d both be held responsible if you ran out of control. Oh—” Her breath caught. “There’s so much he doesn’t know, Archie.”