The return from Port Angeles was a journey through a tunnel of shadows; an absolute mental shock. The roar of the Chevy's engine was the only thing anchoring me to reality while my hands, still trembling, gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white. If I had possessed physical super-strength, I'm certain I would have bent the metal by now. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that being's head rolling and its red gaze extinguishing in the fire of the alley.
When I got home, darkness greeted me. It was the sign that Bella hadn't returned yet, and since Charlie's cruiser was also gone, I assumed he was still on duty. Most likely, Bella was still with Edward. The house felt empty and cold, but it was a relief; I wasn't prepared to give explanations or to pretend my world hadn't turned upside down that very night.
I prepared myself a turkey and cheese sandwich with mechanical movements. I ate without tasting it, simply fueling a body that was falling apart from exhaustion. Then I went upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I let the hot water hit my shoulders, washing away the dried blood from my nose, the smell of smoke, and the invisible trail of that encounter with the impossible. Looking in the mirror, my eyes looked deeper, darker, as if I had aged ten years in a single hour.
Before collapsing, I pulled out my phone and, with clumsy fingers, sent a message to my sister:
"I'm home, Bells. I came back early because I had a headache and I'm going to bed now. See you tomorrow."
I didn't wait for a response. Morpheus claimed me before my head even hit the pillow. It was a deep sleep, devoid of images or nightmares, as if my brain had decided to shut down completely to reconstruct itself.
When the Saturday sun filtered through the curtains, it wasn't pain that woke me, but a different kind of mental lightness. I sat up with a jump, throwing the sheets to the floor. I expected the lash of a migraine, but it never came. Instead, I felt absolute clarity. The spark of my powers had evolved: it was now a blue sphere the size of a baseball, triple the size it was just two days ago.
I stood in the center of the room and extended my hand. "Out," I whispered.
The shield erupted from my body with terrifying fluidity. It didn't stop at twelve centimeters, or even a meter; it expanded until it reached a three-meter radius, occupying almost the entire room. I could feel the pressure against the furniture and the texture of the trapped air. It was as solid as steel.
I continued experimenting. I moved my hand toward the desk lamp and, with a thought, created a small force field around it. I no longer needed the shield to be attached to me; I could project it, as long as it was within my range. But the most surprising thing happened when I tried to shape the energy. I visualized the membrane flattening and sharpening until it became a thin blade. As I moved my arm, the sheet sliced through the air with a hiss.
I remembered the vampire's head rolling. Now I had invisible blades.
"Vampires," I spat the word, savoring the danger. "'You would be a powerful vampire,' that monster said."
If those beings had "gifts," it meant that before being transformed, they already had an early manifestation of power. The pieces began to fit: the pale skin, the cold touch, the superhuman speed... Edward stopping that car in the parking lot. The conclusion was logical: the Cullens were vampires, but of a different kind, since they didn't have those unnatural red eyes.
The fear that someone might read my thoughts gave me the necessary push for my next phase of training: the Mental Shield.
I spent the weekend meditating. I visualized walls, forests, and the sky, until I managed to recreate Charlie's house in my mind to organize my memories on shelves. Finally, I surrounded that mental structure with a barrier of energy. Now, my thoughts wouldn't be an open book; to a stranger, my mind would be something blurred, distant, and confusing.
On Sunday afternoon, while resting from intermittent headaches, I finished analyzing the data. The Cullens had golden or black eyes. I remembered Alice telling me once that they changed color according to their mood, and that in the cafeteria, they never actually ate.
"If they don't drink human blood, but they are strong... there has to be another source," I thought. Then it clicked. Animals. They were "vegetarians" in their own way. Everything made sense now. The Forks forest was the perfect buffet.
I felt euphoric, as if I had solved an impossible enigma. But then I thought of Bella. She was dating Edward. My sister was a walking blood bag next to a predator.
I looked at my hands. They were the hands of a boy who a week ago only knew how to use charcoal and now could decapitate monsters with his mind. The sphere inside me glowed brightly, as if confirming its presence. For now, I would limit myself to observing, but if anything put my sister in danger, I wouldn't hesitate to become the executioner of those monsters.
Tomorrow was Monday. Tomorrow I would see the Cullens again. But this time I would go with my thoughts protected, my blades ready, and a truth that weighed more than any drawing I had ever designed. I was no longer a victim who could be hurt; now I could strike.
In the evening, I went down for dinner. As usual, Charlie was in the armchair watching TV, and Bella was in the kitchen finishing dinner. I started bringing plates and silverware to set the table. I knew I shouldn't ask questions, but I needed to know if she had been bitten yet. So, I devised a plan and carried it out.
"Bella, I don't want hair in the food like the other times," I said. Discreetly, I removed the tie holding her messy hair to pull it back better; I wanted a clear view of her neck. Apparently, she didn't have any marks. Thank God.
"What's wrong with you?" she said, annoyed, brushing my hands off her shoulders. "And since when has hair fallen into the food?"
"Well, I found one the other time," I replied as I brought the salad bowl to the table. "But I didn't say anything so I wouldn't hurt your feelings."
"Yeah, right."
We sat at the table to eat in an uncomfortable silence, until Bella interrupted: "Charlie, did they catch the animal that killed your friend Waylon yet?"
"Wait, what? When did that happen?" I blurted out, surprised, dropping my silverware onto the plate.
My dad looked sad and, at the same time, angry. He finished chewing and wiped his mouth. I looked at Bella, asking for more explanations, but she only glanced at Charlie, as if telling me to wait for him to speak.
"He was an old friend, son. They found him in the boat near his house; apparently, he had wounds consistent with an animal."
"There was also a guard in Mason who died from an animal attack," Bella added suddenly while she finished eating.
I turned to look at Charlie, waiting for an explanation, and it didn't take long. He pushed his nearly empty plate away and straightened up in his chair.
"Apparently the animal is getting close to Forks or will pass nearby, so for your safety and my peace of mind, I expect you not to go into the forest until this is resolved."
We nodded slowly. As we got up to clear the table and wash the dishes, I wondered if the attack wasn't the work of something else. A vampire. Well, better leave it for another day; it was time to rest, as there were classes tomorrow.
Monday in Forks dawned with that persistent mist that seemed to want to swallow the mountains, a gray veil that fit perfectly with the mood in the Chevy. The engine grunted with its usual lack of enthusiasm as we wound along the curving road. Beside me, Bella was a statue of silence. Her fingers toyed nervously with her backpack strap, and her gaze was lost in the parade of damp pines.
I could feel her distance. There was an invisible wall between us, forged the moment she got into Edward's Volvo in Port Angeles on Friday night. I had been too busy surviving a red-eyed predator and building a fortress inside my own skull to interrogate her, but the tension emanating from her was almost physical.
"Are you okay, Bells?" I asked, breaking the silence after several miles.
She blinked, as if returning from a very distant place. "Yes... I'm just tired. The trip to Port Angeles was... intense."
Intense is an understatement, I thought, visualizing for a second the vampire's ashes in the alley, but I kept those thoughts far away. I checked the shield I had placed around my mental house; everything looked sturdy.
Arriving at the high school, I parked the truck in our usual spot. I turned off the engine and silence enveloped us. "Ready?" I said, opening the door.
I got out and walked a few steps toward the entrance, but I stopped when I noticed Bella wasn't following me. She had stayed leaning against the Chevy's fender, her eyes fixed on the silver Volvo that had just parked a few rows away. Edward Cullen was getting out of the car with that otherworldly grace—now I know why—and the connection between their gazes was so evident it almost hurt to watch.
"Are you coming, Bella?" I urged, arching an eyebrow.
"Go ahead, Mael. I... I'll be in soon. I have to talk to someone," she replied without taking her eyes off Edward.
I felt a knot in my stomach. I knew what they were now, or at least had a pretty clear idea, and seeing my sister voluntarily walking toward a lion made my gut churn. However, I couldn't drag her to class or make a scene; who knows what they would do to keep me quiet. I gave a short nod, swallowing the urge to grab Bella and run. I continued on my way and projected my power over my body, limiting it to my skin; that made me feel a bit calmer and helped me control myself from doing something reckless.
In History class, I sat next to Jasper. I didn't want to, but I couldn't act differently than I normally would. Last week, his presence was like a contained hurricane. Today, however, Jasper seemed more... sated and calm.
"Good morning, Mael," he said with that clear, perfect voice, with a slight hint of a growl.
"Hey, Jasper," I replied, opening my book and trying to seem normal.
I forced myself to look at him directly, not as an artist admiring beauty, but as an observer looking for details I hadn't seen before. I focused on his eyes. Last week they were an abyssal black, surrounded by purplish circles, but now those were gone. Today, the iris was a liquid gold, bright and warm like honey under the sun. It was an impossible physical change for a human being, but logical for a predator that had just "fed," if that was indeed what had happened.
I kept the small talk light, discussing the Civil War with a feigned naturalness that cost me every ounce of my new mental discipline. I could feel him trying to read the atmosphere, perhaps looking for something, but my mental order was impeccable. To him, I was simply a quiet boy with a genuine interest in history, and I hoped it would stay that way.
In Art, Alice was a whirlwind of joy, but her eyes also shared that renewed amber tone. "Esme is eager to see the new sketches, Mael!" she told me, fluttering around me. "She says the idea of light refraction you mentioned has changed her whole perspective on the mansion's east wing."
"I'm glad to be of help, Alice," I replied, while drawing shadows with charcoal. "Sometimes, what isn't seen is more important than what is in plain sight."
She stayed still for a second, tilting her head like a curious bird. Her golden eyes searched for something in mine, but because I can block my emotions, I managed to withstand the scrutiny. I didn't feel self-conscious; I felt powerful being able to control myself to such a degree.
Lunchtime arrived with a silent revelation. Instead of sitting with Mike and Jessica's group, I looked for a secluded table that allowed me to observe the cafeteria's ecosystem without being the center of attention. My eyes drifted toward the Cullens' table. They were there, but the picture was incomplete: Edward was missing. Looking at Angela and the others' usual table, I realized Bella wasn't there either. They were nowhere to be found, which I didn't like at all.
I pulled out my phone.
— "Where are you? You didn't come to class!" I texted her.
— "I'm fine, don't worry. I'm just talking to Edward," she replied, but it didn't make me feel any better.
— "Why did you skip class? Well, whatever, just be careful. Let me know if anything happens," was the last thing I sent.
I focused on the remaining siblings: Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, and Emmett. There was something deeply artificial about their behavior today. In front of each one was a tray overflowing with food: burgers, mashed potatoes, bright-colored salads. But the trays were untouched. The food was only for appearance. Alice moved a fork through the air as if she were going to stab some lettuce, but it never touched the plate. Rosalie stared at an apple with barely contained contempt. Emmett played with a piece of bread, crumbling it between his fingers with a force that would have pulverized a stone; he made the gesture of bringing a piece to his mouth, but then pointed at Rosalie to say something and left the bread back on the table.
They performed the theater of eating for the humans surrounding them. They were marble statues dressed as teenagers. But this time they were more nervous, closer together; I assumed they were worried about the absence of the brother who might be doing something inappropriate.
I felt a wave of concern for Bella. She didn't have a mental shield, or energy blades, or a second protective skin. She only had her curiosity and that human vulnerability that attracted monsters. I finished my sandwich feeling the weight of my power. If things got ugly, if Edward lost control or put our family in danger, I wasn't going to be the brother who stands by and watches. The vampire in the alley had taught me that marble also breaks if the right pressure is applied.
I closed my sketchbook and stood up, disposing of the food scraps. The week was just beginning and I already felt exhausted. The Forks air had never been so charged with the promise of a storm that wouldn't just bring water, but revelations that could destroy us all... or maybe it was just me being paranoid.