No Life Kid 12

The clock on the far wall tick-tick-ticked its way past eleven PM, the only sound in the living room that wasn’t either his breathing or the shifting of fabric.

The Cullen house air was more sterile than it was clean, the lack of sound from bodies enough to make the space feel much more empty than it actually was. Zander’s nostrils flared as he leaned back in the white leather armchair, worries about dirt or blood — dried or not — long out of his mind. How do you have a house with no smell? He fought the urge to frown as he crossed one leg over the other, ankle tapping his knee. 

Seriously, the house smelled like nothing. No food, no sweat, and definitely no dead skin cells to turn into dust. He adjusted his blue sunglasses, the tint making the pristine room look underwater. Houses should not smell like factories and hospitals.

“So,” Emmett rumbled from his claimed spot on the stairs. The bear hunter hadn’t moved in hours but then again, neither had anyone else. “Florida, huh? I thought you were spitting shit with the Miami thing, dreadlocks. Figured you were, I don’t know, some kind of a lab experiment or something, like out of Resident Evil.”

…Okay. Zander tilted his head, letting a slow grin spread across his face at Emmet’s words, several parts of that hilarious for different reasons. “Resident Evil? That’s a new one, but nah, just a transplant from the Sunshine State. Mosquitoes, meth-heads, and mayhem. The holy trinity.”

“What, never seen a gator?” Emmett grinned, still looking like he was seconds away for asking for a round too.

“Couple,” Zander drawled. “Mostly just rich old ladies driving Buicks, though. Like I said, I was an orphan, got the foster system special.”

“If you were a foster kid,” Rosalie narrowed her eyes, arms crossed tight enough to crack her own elbows as she stood like an ice sculpture,  “where did the money come from? The car. The staff. The… arrogance.”

“Grand-pappy.” Zander almost flinched as the lie slid out on instinct after months of telling, telling and retelling. Well, it was only a lie outside of the law because as far as the IRS was convinced, the late and not-so-great Harland Kingsley was his ancestor, and wasn’t that what really mattered anyway?

“No… no… no, that’s the easy answer.” He shrugged, picking at a loose thread of denim on his sleeve. “Except the guy wasn’t really my great-grandpappy in the warm and fuzzy and blood sense. Guy was a bastard. Used to do some real fuck-shit back when his legs still worked. Real Eyes Wide Shut shit. I mean, nothing that would make a vampire blush, but still…” Zander flashed her a grimace that was all teeth. “Don’t feel too bad that I stole all his money. I definitely don’t.”

“Did you ever…” Esme sat on the sofa, one hand in her lap and the other entwined with Carlisle’s. Zander glanced over at her, something weird in his gut as she stared at him with a soft warmth that probably pulled in woodland creatures like Snow White. 

Vampires weren’t supposed to look like soccer moms who baked cookies. Weird.

“Did you ever try looking for them? Your real family?”

Zander blinked, actually unsure what to even say to that. The only family in this life worth the term were his two brothers, but for what she really wanted to hear… Damn.

He only really had one easy answer to that — My family is dead, lady — and it was just too rude to use on her of all people. “No.”

The single syllable hung there for a second, all sharp edges in the air before he softened it with a shrug. “I mean, I guess I can now.” He really could, honestly, nothing stopping him but his own choices there. “I mean, yeah, private eyes are cheap when you’re loaded. But…” 

Zander tilted his head back, blue eyes staring at the ceiling for another second longer as he mulled it over. “Nah.”

Across the room, Alice flinched, head jerking back like someone had straight slapped her across the face. The heel of her hand pressed tight against her temple, doing absolutely nothing for granite skin and an inhuman mind, but it didn’t stop her from hissing in pain. “Ow.”

You’re joking. Zander’s eyebrows went high behind his shades, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Really, that’s all it took? I know psychics aren’t supposed to be all that, I dunno… robust, but co-.”

“Oh, shut up.” Alice cut him off, face pinched as she rubbed her forehead. Several sets of eyes turned her way, widened in surprise, and the psychic clicked her tongue. “I’m not apologizing.”

Zander’s smirk widened. “Wouldn’t expect ya too.”

Alice Cullen let out a sigh that was entirely performaive, one eye twitching his way. “You know, I could understand not seeing your future if you were just blank or something. But it keeps on changing. Not even at the drop of a hat. Just one second you’re looking into genealogy, the next I get hit with static and a normal dinner night.”

She glared at him, golden eyes narrowed to the point of accusation. “It’s literally impossible to be that impulsive. Decisions solidify. Yours… they turn to vapor. How?”

“I don’t really know,” Zander sucked his teeth, another lie sliding out with ease. 

At the very least, he did have some guesses. But he wasn’t about to hand those over to the Cullens when he couldn’t trust about half of them. “The path of life has its twists and turns, Little Miss Cleo, and a free spirit like me dances across them all.”

“Stop speaking in riddles.”

Edward blurred for the first time since their woodland fight, inhuman speed almost making Zander flinch as he expected something. 

That something just ended up being Edward Cullen pacing a tighter circle in the corner, celerity wasted as the mind-reader acted like he was a dog on a leash. Hands clenched at his sides, the guy looked as exhausted as a perfect statue of a man could look.

“What exactly are you planning?” The demand came next, Edward’s eyes fixed on him. “You’re here. You’re hunting. Why?”

Zander took in a breath. Unneeded as it was, he used the second of silence to sit up straighter, the leather of the chair creaking under him. “To do what you’re too civilized to do, Eddy.”

He looked past the Cullen’s, staring at — not out  — the window as he took in his reflection in the glass in bright blue tint. “There’s others of your kind, you know that. Thousands just roaming the states.” Zander’s eyes slid over to Carlisle. “Some of them your friends, even. Or at least, professional acquaintances. People who might hunt someone I would rather stay safe.”

“You mean the Stanley girl.”

Rosalie’s words weren’t a question.

Zander blinked. “We all know Jessica doesn’t know what I am. She thinks I’m just a rich orphan with a mysterious past and a bad attitude. And I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“So you’re willing to kill.” Jasper’s eyes were as intense as ever, his arm fully healed as he folded both of them across his chest. “To protect her.”

“To protect all of them,” Zander corrected. “Jessica. Bella. Angela. Mike Newton too, even though he’s been kinda getting on my nerves recently?”

He shook his head. Not important. “They’re innocent people living their lives. They don’t deserve to become collateral damage for a vampire’s post-death crisis.”

Carlisle sat still, squeezing Esme’s hand once. “So, we have an understanding.”

Zander nodded once, the movement sharp as his fangs. “Guess we do.” It wasn’t quite friendship, but a non-agression pact was all he wanted in the first place. You stay in your lane, I stay in mine, and we both try to keep the humans breathing.

“Right then,” Zander said, checking a watch that cost more than Eric Yorkie’s minivan. “It’s been charming, really. But I’ve got places to be.”

Without another word, he turned toward the door.

“Wait.”

Alice’s voice stopped him as Zander paused with a hand on the doorframe. He didn’t look back but he did look up. “What now, Pixie?”

“I still can’t see your future clearly,” Alice’s words floated on the air. “But… I can see Jessica.”

Zander’s shoulders tensed.

“Eventually,” Alice’s voice gained a little traction, “she’s going to learn the truth. About what you are.”

Zander turned, looking at the psychic over the rim of his glasses. “When?”

Alice hesitated, nose scrunched up. “Soon.”

The frown on his face couldn’t manage to hold all his frustration at that bullshit answer but it sure did try. “Is that vampire ‘soon,’ aka a decade? Or human ‘soon,’ like Tuesday?”

“Soon,” the repetition didn’t help “And she’s… well, she’s not afraid. She’s… determined? It’s still fuzzy. But she doesn’t run.”

Zander stared at her for a long moment. Jessica Stanley. The gossip queen. Knowing. The idea should have terrified him but instead, a soft laugh bubbled up from his chest. “Well,” he murmured, a crooked grin touching his lips. “At least she’s braver than I gave her credit for.”

He pushed the door open, letting the cool, damp air of the Forks night wash over him; all rain, mud and pine needles.

“Thanks for the warning, Alice,” he threw over his shoulder as he stepped onto the porch. “Now, I’ve gotta go. I got a dinner tomorrow. And unlike you guys, I actually plan on eating.”