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Harvest Moon

Summary:
It seems that danger is as constant as the clouds of Forks, hanging over the Cullens, just waiting to rain. It always seems to come when times seem the happiest. With it now pouring down upon them with full force, driving a wedge in the tight-knit family, will the Cullens be able to maintain their bonds and triumph once again? Renesmee's P.o.V. REVIEWS are greatly appreciated!! =]
Love it or Hate it, just RATE it! **SORRY FOR THE HIATUS EVERYONE...I'M IN MY SECOND TO LAST SEMESTER IN COLLEGE AND IT'S BEEN TAKING UP A LOT OF MY TIME! I WILL UPDATE ASAP.**


Notes:


11. Strain

Rating 0/5   Word Count 705   Review this Chapter

My mother, Jacob and I gaped at my dad as if he had three heads, while my grandparents, Aunt Rose and Uncle Emmett murmured amongst themselves.

"Um...what?" I breathed.

"It’s purely theoretical, beloved. There is little research on the existence of Magnets, but there is also proof. According to the information that we do have available, Magnets are rare vampires whose transformation has polarized them. Thus these individuals have a great and dangerous gift. Firstly, they can become ‘charged’. By this, I mean that Magnets can absorb and temporarily utilize the gifts of other vampires. For the time that they are ‘charged’, they are immune to that power—it would be like trying to push two magnets of the same polarity together; fruitless and ineffective. But in the same token, there are some gifts that they cannot absorb and are thus vulnerable to. This is where the research becomes obscure—it is unclear how a Magnet’s nature discriminates between which gifts it absorbs and which it does not, or cannot. But again, it is all theoretical."

I had to catch my breath. My mind was reeling. "The handshake," I muttered involuntarily.

My father’s eyes roamed my face, ready to ask, but Uncle Emmett spoke up. "It does make sense...no one has ever been able to resist my...persuasion before," he punched his own palm with a monstrous fist. My mother raised an eyebrow at him. "Ehem—no one who wasn’t a newborn that is..." he amended. "When I was trying to make him leave, he just pushed back against me. He wouldn’t budge. It was so irritating."

"The handshake," I repeated, ready to explain myself. "On that first day...when he shook my hand, he did something to me—"

Jacob’s head snapped up, his passivity transformed into infuriated attention.

"What did that piece of scum do," he spoke through his teeth.

"No, Jacob. He didn’t hurt me, really. It just caught me off guard, is all," I squeezed his trembling hand. "When he shook my hand, it was as if he was fast-forwarding through my memories, making me see them. I don’t know if he was able to see them too...But it was weird. When he finally let go of me, I was exhausted."

My mother stared at some distant object, both hands over her mouth. "Alice has been complaining about having trouble with her visions, too. I told her it was normal—her sight has always been effected by Jacob and Renesmee—but she swore it was different."

"You know, I’ve noticed him checking himself out in the mirror a lot more—maybe he’s sucked up your powers, too, Blondie," Jacob elbowed Aunt Rose, who punched his shoulder. Something crunched beneath her fist.

"Give it fifteen minutes, you’ll be fine...walk it off, pup," she waved him off with a sneer.

Ignoring Jacob and Aunt Rose, my father rounded on Grandfather Carlisle, his tone severe. "Do you know what this means, Carlisle? He is a danger to us, to this family."

"Edward, you know yourself that we don’t have to be the weapons we were manufactured to be. He can be taught. Please, be reasonable. I don’t understand why you’re reacting like this. We knew this would be difficult, but we agreed to try to help him together. I wasn’t alone in the decision," Grandfather Carlisle offered.

"We also agreed that the cause would be worth abandoning if our situation became compromised."

I had never heard my father argue with Grandfather Carlisle before.

"We must proceed, Edward. Give him a chance," my grandfather’s voice sounded weary, pleading.

My father’s face softened. "You are compassionate enough for us all, Carlisle." He fell into an armchair. His face was sharp and focused now. "He can’t know we suspect him. He could turn on us. Then where would we be?"

"We agree there, son. He can’t know," Grandfather Carlisle nodded.

"Please. If he found out, we could take him," Uncle Emmett puffed out his chest and clenched his jaw.

"I wouldn’t be so cavalier, son. The situation is delicate now that we know what we are potentially dealing with," Grandfather Carlisle warned.

"Hmph," Uncle Emmett deflated.

"Delicate, indeed," we all looked up as Aunt Alice danced into the room from the back door, Uncle Jasper on her heels. She locked eyes with my father.

"No," he muttered.

She gave one rigid nod. "The Volturi."