Capetonification

The last class of the day ended, and the teenagers that filled the room made a mad dash for the door. The Math teacher was shouting, but to them she probably sounded like someone out of Charlie Brown's school faculty. As always Bella brought up the rear, alone. Her bag was slung over her left shoulder and she was absently chewing the finger nail of her left thumb.
She left the stone building and made her way down the school stairs to her car.
It was a typical Forks day, overcast and miserable. And yet she felt happy with it. It had taken her a while to become accustomed to the climate. At first she hated it. But now she relished the moments the sun broke through the clouds. It was like welcoming a long lost friend.
Her heartbeat quickened and she felt him before she could even see him. The hairs on the back of her neck were suddenly charged. And then he appeared, his movements silent, confident and (as she knew) deadly.
He smiled at her, his alluring golden eyes fixing her in position. All the twisted emotions within her wrestled for control. And then, just like that, he was in front of her. He reached up and brushed a dark lock of hair from her forehead. The touch was cold and electric at the same time.
Edward Cullen leaned forward and kissed Bella gently on the lips.
She was drunk with desire. She could sense his contrasting hunger and was disappointed when he ended the kiss and stepped back.
"My family would like you to come over for supper tonight." Edward told her.
She regained control and nodded. "Sure. But what about my truck?"
"Don't worry about it. I'll take you home and pick you up tomorrow morning before school."
Bella nodded. "Okay. I'll call my Dad and let him know while we drive."
"Good."
They walked hand in hand to his Volvo and climbed in. The engine burbled into life and with a flick of the accelerator they were off onto the main road, heading further into the secluded mountains.
"Hey, Angel."
Charlie's voice always comforted her. "hey, dad."
"What's up?" he asked.
"Just letting you know I'm going to the Cullen's this evening for supper."
There was a brief pause. "Ok. But be careful. We got a few reports of a strange-looking out-of-towner today. Nothing serious. He's been floating around the town and folks have noticed."
"Alright dad, I'll be extra careful. I'm with Edward now."
"Good. What time can I expect you home?"
"Mmmm. Eight, Nine?" she ventured.
"You're pushing it kid. It's a school night."
"Okay Okay. Eight it is." She conceded.
"See you then." His voice had softened.
"Later Dad."
Bella hung up and slid the phone into the front left pocket of her jeans. She buckled up and saw Edward was glancing at her, a grin on his face. She smiled back.
The road snaked dangerously and they moved higher and higher, the car picking up more speed. The day darkened. Edward knew the road well, and even at speed he drove with confidence. Bella enjoyed the thrill. This was what her life was now. A never ending rollercoaster ride of emotion and danger. It was only with Edward that she felt truly alive.
Did she even exist before? Life seemed to be eclipsed by the events that had transpired since she came to Forks, Washington.
"Is that smoke?" She heard Edward ask.
Bella leaned forward and looked toward the tree line. Dark, sooty wisps of smoke rose lazily into the sky. "Yes." She felt herself go cold. "I think it's coming from your place!"
"No..." She heard him say, but his voice faltered. The engine of the C30 roared at full throttle, and Bella was hurled to her left as Edward took a sharp curving right at breakneck speed. The tyres started to squeal but the grip was good, and the car obeyed it's driver as he pointed it left again, then right and left again.
Edward launched into a hard left and popped the handbrake. The Volvo broadsided off road into the lane that led to the Cullen residence, tyres eating at the soft soil and hurling chunks of earth into the air. Now Bella was scared.
The Cullen residence was burning.
The flames had fully engulfed the once-beautiful home and suddenly Edward screamed. Bella followed his eyes. Sprawled and motionless in front of the house, were six bodies. The Volvo came to a halt, and Bella was not able to follow Edwards movements until he came to a halt at one of the corpses. He knelt down, collapsing almost. What Bella saw next made her sick: Each of the bodies were missing their heads.
She vomited in her hands.
Bella could scarce believe what was happening. She threw the slop into the foot well of the car and wiped her hands down her jeans before opening the door and climbing out. From the clothing the corpses wore, Bella could identify them all: Alice, Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, Emmet and Jasper. Various wounds covered their bodies. It looked like gashes and cuts.
Edward sat, whimpering. Bella drew nearer, overcome with the urge to hold him, kiss him, comfort him.
Suddenly he threw his head back and a feral scream tore through the air, his once beautiful face now contorted into a savage snarl. Bella glimpsed his fangs, arcing out like tusks now. Gone was the golden glow of his eyes, replaced by blood-filled beads. Despite all this she felt her attraction to him grow even stronger. She couldn't explain the moistness she felt between her legs. Despite the horror she found herself in, one thought leapt unbidden to her mind: "I want to fuck this guy. I want to fuck him hard."
"Enough with the theatrics, fag."
The words were softly spoken, but they cut through moment with a merciless lack of emotion. Both Bella and Edward spun toward the speaker.
The man was tall, but not abnormally so. He was dressed casually in jeans, Lacoste sneakers and a black T-shirt. There was something abnormal about his exposed left arm. It seemed to be covered in shiny metal. All his clothing was spattered with drying blood. His hair was closely cropped, resembling a cut David Beckham once sported, and his face was unshaven. The face itself was average - Not ugly and not great-looking. His eyes were covered by a pair of shades, nothing Bella recognized, so it was probably a cheap no-name brand.
But here was the interesting part: between his shoulders hung a sheathed Japanese sword.
“Did you do this?” demanded Edward. His voice was now a sibilant hiss and the words dripped with barely-contained rage and blue veins were writhing under the skin of his face like buried earth worms.
The guy nodded and said: “It’s time to join ‘em pal.”
Bella did not really see what happened next. One instant Edward was kneeling in front of her, the next she saw a flash of silver and explosion of blood.
A headless corpse toppled to the earth in front of the stranger.
Bella blinked, her mind still trying to register what had just happened.
Then it hit her: Edward Cullen was dead.
But instead of revulsion and heartbreak, a warm sense of relief washed over her. Her vision seemed to brighten and it was as if a haze was lifted from her mind. She looked at Edward’s body, confused. She knew how she felt about him mere seconds ago. She expected her heart to break at this sight. But she was fine. Better than she had been in months. Was she in experiencing an emotional breakdown?
The man flipped his sword, holding it like a dagger and rammed it into Edward’s chest. He gripped the pommel two-handed and started to twist and turn the blade. It looked as if he was stirring a pot with a giant ladle. He even started to whistle. Business as usual.
She saw the lips of Edward’s decapitated head move, but without any vocal cords intact, no sound came forth.
She teetered closer. The stranger looked up.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. Shock was setting in and she began to shiver. “Better. I don’t understand what just happened.” She told him.
“In the Industry, we call them Charmers. Low-level vampires who prey and feed on the introverted and socially inept.” He looked up at her. “That means you, Emo Kid.”
“I don’t understand. He never harmed me.”
“He no doubt told you that they only live on animal blood?”
Bella nodded.
“That’s not a choice. It’s a requirement. Their primary source of nourishment comes from the emotions of their victims. The more you hang around with them, the more joy, sadness, excitement depression – whatever- you feel, the fatter the whoresons get.”
“Who are you?” Bella asked.
“An interesting question and one that I can’t entirely answer. But for the sake of immediate satisfaction, you can call me Shadow.”
He stepped back from the body, picked up a canister, unscrewed the top and started dowsing it in a pink liquid. Bella caught the smell of it.
Gasoline.
Next he produced a pack of Marlboro, flicked one between his lips and lit up. He took a drag and passed it to Bella. She looked at it for a second. “What the hell.” She shrugged and took the cigarette from Shadow. After a long draw she passed it back. “What was happening to me? Why do I feel so indifferent to their deaths. I mean, I loved him. Now…” She paused and shook her head. “Now it’s like I never ever cared for them.”
“Pheromones. They pump the shit into the air like a fucking paper mill pumps steam. You were so drunk on it, you probably had a permanent wet spot.”
“Jesus Christ man!” Bella shouted in disgust. “I hardly know you.” She was turning a deep crimson.
This time it was Shadow’s turn to shrug. “I know them. And I know what they were doing to you. You would do anything for him, because he was laying a love potion on you that your body could not deny. It was merely a matter of time before they wore you out. You’d get weaker. You’d lose weight. Your hair would start to thin and fall out. The medical professionals wouldn’t be able to do shit for you because they would be too busy scratching their heads. And during all this time you’d love the shit out of the very thing that was killing you. You’d fuck him with a smile on your face until the last breath rattled from your spent corpse.”
Now Bella began to feel light headed. She suddenly needed to sit. She did. Shadow knelt at her side, steadying her. “It’s okay kid.” He tossed the cigarette at the petrol-doused corpse of Edward Cullen, and flames leapt up instantly. It consumed the corpse. Hungrily.
And suddenly it all became clear to her. Vampires. She was hanging out with Vampires. Was she fucking crazy? Who does that shit? She believed the man beside her. Afterall, she was a nerd. She hardly hung out with regular boys. And suddenly she was flaunting without a care with the family from hell. She shook her head in disgust.
“It’s not your fault.” Shadow assured her. “The whole planet seems to be going bat-shit about teenage vampires. Beverly Shrills 90210. Also, there wasn’t much you could do. I am glad I wasn’t too late.”
He stood. In the distance they could hear sirens approaching.
“What now?” She asked the tall man.
“Now you get to live. Tell the cops you watched a madman chop everyone to pieces.”
“And how do I explain why you let me live?”
He was silent. Then: “Good point. I’m gonna have to kill you.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“Just kidding.”
“Fucking Asshole!” She shouted, ready to smack him in the knee.
Shadow chuckled to himself and started heading toward the tree line “Kid, I don’t care what you tell them. I think that’s gonna be the least of their questions.”
And then he was gone.


The German-built 6.3 litre V12 growled into life as Shadow hit the glowing "Start" button at the centre of the leather-clad console. He shoved it into first, brought his foot down on the accelerator and dropped the clutch. The Aston Martin V12 Vantage's rear wheels bit into the tar with tremendous effect and the vehicle was launched into motion, the roar from the engine now cacophonous.
40.
60.
Shadow snapped into second and started the descent.
80.
100.
3rd.
Now the speed was break-neck as he threw the car into a meandering right-hander, the onboard computers fighting to keep him on the road.
It was a small town, so he didn't expect much law enforcement. He saw the flashing lights and heard the sirens. Three patrol cars came around the next corner. Shadow hit a straight and planted his foot even further. The Aston's tail shook a little bit as it accelerated directly toward them.
They started to slow.
He didn't.
Shadow flicked the high-beams on and locked onto a collision course with the cops.
They spun of the road even before the Aston had a chance to reach them.
He hit the curve in the road, and effortlessly drifted around it.
15 minutes later, and without further indecent Shadow took the on-ramp to the national road.
He relaxed, and the excitement started to subside.
“Impressive display.”
Shadow jumped, pulling the steering-wheel sharply to the right.
The Aston responded with deadly accuracy and nearly collided with the roadside barrier. The tyres squealed like little children on a roller coaster ride.
Shadow's feet dropped away from the pedals and he corrected the car.
"Jesus-jumped-up-Christ Collins!" he shouted at the figure now seated next to him. "I would have been mighty pissed if I scratched this car."
The bearded man nodded. "Yes. The car. Interesting choice of getaway vehicle. Very inconspicuous."
Shadow gave him the finger.
Dr. Collin's feigned shock. "You know, for someone who killed me, you could show a bit more remorse. Be a bit nicer. Suck up a little."
Shadow shook his head. "I wish I could go back to that day. I would have put you in a coma instead."
He gave a sidelong glare. "Why are you haunting me anyway?"
The ghost of Dr. Collins shrugged. "Justice. Retribution. Divine coincidence." He paused. "Or maybe it's because you read the Book of Shadows. Or when you drew on all my memories, you got more than just some old man's accumulated knowledge and thoughts. Maybe it's all the above."
"But it's been seven years. Is there no heaven or hell interested in your soul?"
Dr. Collins suddenly grew serious. "It is better that you do not know who or what is interested in your soul when it vacates your body."
Shadow said nothing. He did regret killing the man. He had been a friend, a mentor and sometimes a father. But to Shadow, he was a necessary casualty. Yet despite all the justification he could muster, there was also a terrible shame at the betrayal of all those people he called friends and family. He tried to push the memories away.
Dr. Collins continued: "Whatever the reason, you and I are bound. For how long I do not know. But it is not coincidental that you would take up a quest to hunt down creatures of the Occult, while being haunted by a former Master of the Dark Arts."
Shadow sneered at this. "Typical, Collins. You always had a flare for divine providence."
"And you were always the obligatory pessimist. Grow the fuck up."
Shadow laughed and turned on the radio. He flicked through the MP3 menu, selecting an old Killers album.
It began to play. It was "Confessions of a King".
"So where to next?" asked Dr. Collins.
"New Orleans."
"Really? Who's the target?"
Shadow leaned over and pulled out a file from behind the passenger seat. He flipped it open and tossed it toward Collins. It landed on the seat, effortlessly drifting through the ghost-man. Collins' legs became transparent and he looked at the page it had fallen open on. His face became stern.
He looked back up at Shadow and said: "He might be known as the Fag, but he's not a pushover you know?"
"He's been around for a long time. He knows how I can get to the top."
"Do you even know how to find him?"
The driver of the Aston nodded. "It's all in the file the Seeker compiled."
"Still making use of his services? I told you he could not be trusted."
"He's been giving me reliable leads. Until he proves otherwise, he's A-OK in my book."
With that Collins disappeared.
Shadow breathed a sigh of relief. Collins freaked him out.
Was he really a ghost? Or was he just a figment of Shadow's imagination. He didn't know which explanation was preferable.