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.She's Not In-between, Just Other.

She's Not In-between, Just Other There's a visitor in Forks, but she's definitely no tourist. That appears to be all that’s definite, though. Well…that and her stunning beauty. Can the Cullens figure out just exactly who or what she is? Could her mysterious male companions provide the answers? Set a decade or so after Breaking Dawn ends…Renesmee is full grown (and married to Jacob) and the wolf pack at La Push has grown significantly. Apart from that, everything is pretty much the same…

I don't own Twilight, unfortunately. I do, however, own Freyvarr. Her soul is mine! Muhahaha!

3. Chapter 3 - Diet

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1337   Review this Chapter


Edward felt his muscles tense as Freyvarr approached, his hands tightening around Bella's waist and his limbs straining for action.

"Hello Freyvarr," said Carlisle, "I am Carlisle. This is Esme, Edward, Bella, Jasper, Alice, Emmet, Rosalie and Renesmee." He indicated each in turn as he said their names. "I believe you have already met our friends; Jacob, Embry, Quil, Seth, Orin and … Reon…"

Edward saw Freyvarr's brow narrow slightly at the odd hesitation that Carlisle had with the word "Reon." Carlisle's calm expression hid a certain amount of confusion as well. Edward had explained that Reon had imprinted as soon as he had heard the werewolves' thoughts and they had confirmed this when he arrived. He could provide no explanation, however, as to how exactly a werewolf could imprint on a vampire. Though Jacob had imprinted on Renesmee, that had been an entirely different situation. Renesmee wasn't even a full vampire. Not to mention the fact that she was relatively harmless to humans or werewolves, coming from the Cullen family. Reon, however, had imprinted on a totally unknown, dangerous, blood drinking vampire. It went against all natural instincts. Edward had more important concerns to ponder though. For example the fact that, try as he might, he didn't seem to be able to listen to Freyvarr's thoughts. Moreover, the thoughts of her companions were of little help.

I don't like the way they're looking at her…Why is that wolf staring at her like that? Should I go to her? She did say she could handle it…

"What are you doing here?" said Edward loudly, anger tainting his voice.

Freyvarr smiled widely, her features lighting up with a glorious and overwhelmingly sweet innocence.

"Looking for the great Cullen Clan that I have heard of. Why else might I be here?"

"Why have you come to us, Freyvarr?" asked Carlisle, ignoring Edward's hostility.

Freyvarr turned up the wattage on her smile significantly.

"There are a good many reasons why I came," she replied, "The first - that is the first to occur to me, not the one that I consider most important - was that the city clans are in turmoil and their conflicts are endangering the mortals. Only a few are dead, but many have been immortalised. This information, I thought, might be of use to you. My greater motivation, however, was the protection and security that we could extend to each other when the city vampires begin to expand their territory, which, I assure you, is imminent. Also, having heard a great deal about your way of life, I was greatly intrigued by it. Mostly by your diet and integration into human society, but also by the structure of your clan. Almost like a little mortal family. It's rather endearing really, but it has caused quite a stir in the city. You've started a trend. There are sweet little vampire families springing up everywhere. Oh, do excuse my rude behaviour. I try not to appear patronising. You must understand, however, that this probably reflects the viewpoint of many of the city clans. Perhaps this bodes well for your survival, that you are so easily underestimated. No matter, this is irrelevant. Really, you must try and stop me on occasion because I have the most formidable tendency to speak without end."

"What makes you think that these…city clans…will be expanding their territory?" asked Carlisle.

"With more newborns, they need more space and more victims. They have ambitions. It's why you've been having more of them through here recently."

"It's true that the werewolves have been dealing with a lot of vampires," said Edward quietly to Carlisle. "Just last week -"

"Yes," interjected Freyvarr, "Just last week they slaughtered Maestria and her spawn. Good job too. Can't be doing with their sort."

"Their sort?" spat Emmet, "And how exactly would their sort be any different from your sort?"

Freyvarr's eyes reached his, glimmering with something that might have been…admiration? amusement?

"Our sorts are very different, Emmet. Maestria and her clan were brutal killers, stealing humans to drink their blood. Maracus, Infidus and I never feed from mortals."

"How can your eyes be red if that is so?" asked Carlisle.


Freyvarr couldn't help herself. Anything to see that bemused anger on Edward's face. He was probably only angry because he couldn't hear her mind. Well. If he wanted her thoughts, he could have them. She delved back into her world of information. The resistance between her mind and his ability was as strong as ever. Pushing against the ability, she raised the pressure between them even more and she could feel his mind leaning into the contact as well. Suddenly she pulled completely away. Pushing hard against a now non-existent force, Edward stumbled, falling into her mind. She coaxed his ability gently into a recent memory.

A dark night, a warm breeze blowing through a bedroom window and across the bed. Two hearts, both still with immortality. Touching flesh. Cold skin meets cold skin, hands roam. Overwhelming feelings. Pleasure. Rich aromas. Slender hands grip cold skin as blood contact is made. Her fangs sink into his neck, his are already buried deep in her shoulder. Their burning cold bodies press against each other as they share blood. Red-soaked bedclothes. The blood flows freely. Not a feast, not a meal, but satisfying. And infinitely…enjoyable…

Freyvarr released Edward and shunted him back out of her mind. She wasn't entirely sure about how much of that vision he had got, but he seemed to have the general idea. The words "horror" and "confusion" couldn't quite describe what his face was saying at that moment. His eyes, wide and disbelieving, kept flicking between her and the males lurking in the trees. Sensing his attention, Maracus and Infidus stepped slowly to Freyvarr's side, casting wary glances at the various wolves and vampires. Freyvarr was still watching the Cullens with a mild interest. Edward had leant over to whisper urgently in the ear of their leader, Carlisle, and Carlisle's eyebrows (seemingly with a life of their own) shot so far up his forehead that they might have been in danger of merging with his hairline, if he hadn't quickly regained control of his expression. It was relatively amusing to watch the reaction as the information was passed around the group. It was also interesting to watch the scarred male vampire. His eyes had looked severely pained throughout and his face occasionally betrayed a slight grimace. Another point of interest was the action of a small black-haired female who stared at Edward momentarily, as if sharing some secret message with him. Whatever she had shared with him was also relayed back to Carlisle, as, it seemed, was any important information. The rest of the vampires seemed to have various reactions to Edward's news, mainly surprise.

"Is it all a little too shocking?" she asked of them.

"It's …It's not something that we knew was possible…" muttered Carlisle, his voice partly between surprise and curiosity. If he was as disgusted as Edward then he was hiding it well.


Reon recoiled. Renesmee had told the werewolves what they had been doing. What those monsters had been doing with His Freyvarr, His Beautiful. Now he was definitely ready to kill something. There was a strange calm in the atmosphere, but he was going to ignore it. He was going to rip those monsters to shreds for touching His Freyvarr, for daring to bite His Perfect One. He was going to pull each limb off individually and make it so painful that they would scream out a million times in agonised regret before he killed them. They were going to pay for what they had done to His Precious Angel… Just as soon as this strange, sedating calm went away.