CHAPTER 2: FIRST MIMIC
The Volvo moved through Forks like a silver ghost, silent except for the whisper of tires on wet pavement. Peter sat in the back seat, hands clenched on his thighs, trying to focus on anything except the two living, breathing, blood-filled humans he could sense in every passing car.
Edward drove with the kind of focus that suggested he was resisting the urge to floor it and get this over with. His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, and his jaw worked like he was chewing glass.
Don't think about it, Peter told himself. Don't think about the heartbeats. Don't think about the warmth. Don't think about how easy it would be to just—
"Stop," Edward said sharply, not taking his eyes off the road.
Peter blinked. "I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to. Your face is..." Edward's jaw tightened further. "Carlisle warned us about newborns. You're holding on better than most would, but you need to stop thinking about hunting."
"I'm not—" Peter started, then caught sight of his reflection in the window.
His eyes were black. Not just dark, but black, pupils blown so wide they'd swallowed the iris entirely. And his expression... Christ, he looked hungry. Predatory.
"Yeah, okay," Peter said, forcing his gaze away from the window. "Noted. Think about something else. Got it."
"Think about the fact that if you attack anyone, I'll have to kill you," Edward said, voice flat. "That usually helps with impulse control."
"Comforting."
Alice turned in the passenger seat, her pixie features arranged in something between concern and fascination. "You're really not a vampire. I mean, you are, but you weren't five minutes ago. How is that possible?"
Peter opened his mouth to answer, then hesitated. The System's presence pulsed in his mind, a reminder that some secrets were better kept.
"It's complicated," he said finally.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting right now."
Alice's eyes unfocused again, that look of someone peering into a space beyond normal perception. Her face crumpled in frustration. "I still can't see you. It's like... like there's a wall where your future should be. I've never experienced anything like it."
"My mental protection's pretty thorough," Peter said, then immediately regretted it. "Uh. That's a thing I have. Mental shields. They're... built-in."
Edward's eyes met his in the rearview mirror, sharp with suspicion. "Built-in. By whom?"
By a cosmic system that may or may not be sentient and definitely has a sense of humor, Peter thought. Out loud, he said: "Does it matter? You can't read my mind, Alice can't see my future. I'm the perfect blind spot. Bet that's a refreshing change of pace."
"'Refreshing' isn't the word I'd use," Edward muttered.
The houses were thinning out now, replaced by dense forest on either side. The road narrowed, became less maintained, and the Volvo took a turn onto what looked more like a glorified hiking trail than an actual street.
Peter's vampire senses cataloged everything—the smell of cedar and Douglas fir, the skitter of a squirrel's claws on bark, the distant rush of a river. And underneath it all, growing stronger with each mile, a scent that made his entire body go rigid.
Vampires.
"We're close," Alice said unnecessarily.
The trees opened up abruptly, and Peter got his first real look at the Cullen house.
It was exactly like the movies had shown it, and nothing like them at all. The photos hadn't captured the way it seemed to grow from the forest itself, all glass and pale wood that reflected the gray sky like a mirror. Three stories of impossible architecture, modern and organic at once, perched on the edge of a meadow that probably looked stunning on the rare sunny day.
Right now, it just looked cold.
Edward parked in a garage that housed two more cars—a Mercedes and a Jeep that screamed "Emmett." Peter climbed out, his movements too smooth, too fast, and had to consciously slow himself down.
Human. Act human. You were human an hour ago; you remember how to do this.
But his body didn't want to be human. It wanted to move, to test its new limits, to hunt—
"Inside," Edward said, his tone brooking no argument. "Now."
The interior of the house was all open space and clean lines. Pale wood floors gleamed under recessed lighting. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of the forest that would've been breathtaking if Peter's attention wasn't entirely focused on not attacking the four vampires now arranged in the living room like a very beautiful, very dangerous welcoming committee.
Carlisle stood at the center, his posture relaxed but alert. Next to him, a woman with caramel-colored hair and a gentle face—Esme, Peter's brain supplied. To their left, Emmett, huge and grinning like this was the best entertainment he'd had in years. And next to him, Rosalie, blonde and furious, her beauty somehow sharpened by the anger radiating off her in waves.
"Well," Emmett said, his voice like distant thunder. "This is new."
Peter stood frozen in the doorway, hyperaware of the distance between himself and each vampire. Carlisle: fifteen feet. Esme: sixteen. Emmett: twelve. Rosalie: fourteen. He knew exactly how fast he'd have to move to reach any of them, and his body was already calculating trajectories before his conscious mind could shut the impulse down.
What the hell is wrong with me?
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Vampire physiological response. Instinctive threat assessment normal for transformed state. Recommendation: Remain calm. Aggressive action inadvisable against five hostile vampires of greater experience.
No shit, Peter thought viciously.
Carlisle took a step forward, and every predatory instinct in Peter's new body screamed at him to either attack or flee. He did neither, staying rooted to the spot through sheer force of will.
"My name is Carlisle Cullen," the blonde vampire said, his voice warm and utterly non-threatening. "Edward called ahead. He said you appeared to be... newly turned. But Alice insists you weren't a vampire thirty minutes ago."
"I wasn't," Peter managed, his voice still coming out wrong—deeper, rougher, like gravel wrapped in silk.
Rosalie made a disgusted sound. "That's impossible."
"Yeah, well." Peter gestured helplessly at himself. "Welcome to my life. Or my afterlife. Or my... whatever this is."
Carlisle's eyes—golden, like Edward's and Alice's, marking them as "vegetarians"—studied him with clinical interest. "You're in remarkable control for a newborn. Most would've attacked by now, or at least attempted to."
"Most newborns probably don't have..." Peter trailed off. The System pulsed a warning in his mind: Discretion recommended.
"Don't have what?" Jasper's voice came from the stairs, and Peter's head snapped toward the sound before he could stop himself.
The scarred vampire descended slowly, his posture deceptively casual. But Peter could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his weight stayed on the balls of his feet. Ready to move. Ready to fight.
And behind Jasper—
The emotional impact hit Peter like a physical blow. Calm. Wave after wave of artificial calm, pressing against his mind like a weighted blanket. His racing thoughts slowed, the burn in his throat dimmed to something almost manageable, and the predatory instincts coiled in his muscles unclenched by degrees.
Peter's eyes widened. "You're doing that. The calm thing. That's you."
Jasper's eyebrows rose slightly. "You can feel it?"
"Like... like warm water. But inside
Continue
my head." Peter shook himself, trying to clear the artificial tranquility. "It's weird. Good weird, but weird."
"Fascinating," Carlisle murmured. "Most people don't recognize emotional manipulation when it's happening. They simply feel what Jasper projects."
"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises today." Peter finally managed to tear his gaze away from Jasper and look back at Carlisle. "Look, I know this is insane. Trust me, I'm living it, and I still think I'm having some kind of psychotic break. But I'm not dangerous. Or at least, I'm trying really hard not to be dangerous."
"You smell wrong," Rosalie said abruptly. All eyes turned to her. She was staring at Peter with undisguised hostility. "Vampire, but not. Like there's something else underneath."
Peter's jaw tightened. He could feel the System watching, waiting to see how he'd handle this. "That's because I'm not actually a vampire. Not permanently. This is... temporary."
The silence that followed could have been cut with a knife.
"Temporary," Emmett repeated slowly, his grin fading. "Dude, that's not how this works. You get bitten, you turn, that's it. No take-backs."
"Normally, yeah. But I wasn't bitten." Peter took a breath he didn't need—the habit was already fading—and made a decision. "I have this... ability. I can copy supernatural powers from people near me. When I do, I transform into whatever they are for twenty-four hours. Right now, I'm a vampire because I copied Edward's telepathy."
Another beat of silence. Then Emmett burst out laughing.
"Oh man, that's the best bullshit I've heard in decades. What, are you like a supernatural Pokémon? Gotta catch 'em all?"
"Emmett," Carlisle said quietly, but there was a sharpness underneath the calm.
Peter felt his face heat—or tried to. Vampires probably didn't blush. "It's not bullshit. And it's not voluntary, exactly. There's a... a thing. In my head. It manages the whole process."
"A thing," Edward said flatly from behind him. "In your head."
"A System," Peter corrected. "Capital S. It's like a... a guide? Or a really annoying AI? I don't know, I've only had it for a few hours."
Alice had drifted closer, her expression caught between wonder and frustration. "And this System is why I can't see you? Why Edward can't read you?"
"It's got mental protections built in. I'm shielded from telepathy, mind control, that kind of thing." Peter met Edward's eyes in challenge. "Which is why you're getting nothing from me right now except whatever my face is showing."
Edward's expression was unreadable, but Peter caught the faint tightness around his mouth. Being shut out of someone's thoughts was probably as uncomfortable for him as the constant mental chatter was for Peter right now.
Because it was constant. Even with Jasper's calm pressing down on him, Peter could hear the edges of thoughts from everyone in the room, whispers and fragments that he didn't know how to block yet.
—can't be real there's no way—
—smell his blood it's different undernea—
—actually kind of cool if true imagine being able to—
—threat level unknown Carlisle needs to—
Peter gritted his teeth and tried to focus on Carlisle, who was watching him with an intensity that would've been unnerving if it wasn't so genuinely curious.
"Twenty-four hours," Carlisle said slowly. "Then what? You revert to human?"
"Yeah. Baseline human, no powers except whatever I've locked in as permanent." Peter held up a hand before anyone could ask. "And before you jump on that—yes, I can make some abilities permanent. Every ten powers I copy, I get to pick one to keep. Right now I'm at one out of ten, so I've got a ways to go."
Rosalie's laugh was bitter. "So you're human most of the time, but you get to play dress-up as a vampire whenever you want? Must be nice."
The words stung more than Peter wanted to admit. Because she was right, in a way. He got the power without the permanence, the abilities without the curse. He could walk in the sun tomorrow without sparkling, could eat human food, could age and die like a normal person—
Except I already died once, Peter thought. And here I am anyway.
"It's not a game," he said quietly. "I didn't ask for this. I woke up in the forest outside town a few hours ago with no memory of how I got here, no ID, no money, nothing. Just this voice in my head telling me I could copy supernatural powers and a burning need to not starve to death. So yeah, maybe I'm 'playing dress-up,' but it's the only way I have to survive in a world full of things that could kill me without breaking a sweat."
Esme, who'd been silent until now, made a soft sound of distress. "You're all alone? You have no one?"
Peter's throat tightened. "Not in this world, no."
"This world?" Carlisle's eyes sharpened. "You say that like there's another."
Shit. Peter scrambled for a recovery. "I mean... I had a life before. Somewhere else. Different place, different... everything. But that's gone now. This is what I've got."
It wasn't technically a lie. His old life was gone, even if explaining the transmigration thing would make him sound even crazier than he already did.
Carlisle studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Well. You're here now, and you're clearly struggling with the thirst. Jasper, could you—"
"Already on it," Jasper said, and Peter felt another wave of calm wash over him. This time it was stronger, more focused, and the burn in his throat dimmed to something almost ignorable.
"Thank you," Peter breathed.
"Don't thank me yet," Jasper said dryly. "That's only a stopgap. You're going to need to feed, and soon. The thirst doesn't go away just because I'm dampening your awareness of it."
"Feed," Peter repeated. The word conjured images of fangs sinking into soft skin, of blood hot and rich on his tongue, and his whole body shuddered with want.
"On animals," Carlisle clarified quickly. "We'll take you hunting tonight. It's not ideal for someone so new, but with Jasper's help, we should be able to keep you from doing anything... irreversible."
Peter nodded mutely. The thought of drinking blood—even animal blood—should have been repulsive. His human mind was screaming that this was wrong, that vampires weren't real, that none of this should be happening.
But his vampire body? His vampire body was already calculating which animal would be easiest to take down, which would provide the most blood, which would satisfy the inferno currently eating him alive from the inside.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Vampire instincts operating within normal parameters. Note: Host consciousness remains dominant. Override capability maintained for emergency situations.
Good to know I'm still driving this meat suit, Peter thought sarcastically. Would've been nice to mention that before I turned into a bloodthirsty monster.
SYSTEM RESPONSE: Transformation warnings provided during initialization. Host accepted risk upon selecting vampire ability. Complaint: Noted.
Peter almost laughed. Even stuck in his head, the System managed to sound smugly mechanical.
"So," Emmett said, clapping his hands together with a sound like thunder. "We're taking the sparkly newbie hunting. This should be fun. Twenty bucks says he trips over his own feet and face-plants in the first five minutes."
"Emmett," Esme chided, but there was fondness in her voice.
"What? I'm just saying, newborns are clumsy. It's a fact. Remember when you turned me, Rose? I ran into a tree my first hunt. Knocked the whole thing over."
Rosalie's lips twitched despite her obvious irritation. "You were showing off."
"Was not."
"Were too."
"Children," Carlisle said mildly, and the bickering stopped. He turned back to Peter. "Before we go anywhere, I need to examine you. With your permission."
Peter blinked. "Examine me? Like a doctor's exam?"
"I am a doctor," Carlisle reminded him. "And you're a medical impossibility. If you truly transform between human and vampire states, I'd like to understand the mechanism. It could be... significant."
The way he said "significant" made Peter's skin prickle. Or would have, if vampires' skin could prickle. He didn't like the idea of being studied like a lab rat, but Carlisle's expression was so genuinely earnest, so filled with scientific curiosity rather than threat, that Peter found himself nodding.
"Okay. Yeah, sure. Just... no needles, right? Because I don't know if vampire skin can even be pierced by needles."
"It can't," Rosalie said flatly. "We're effectively indestructible. Only another vampire can hurt us, or fire."
"Cool. Cool cool cool. That's not terrifying at all."
Carlisle gestured toward a room off the main living area. "My study is this way. The rest of you, please give us some privacy."
Edward looked like he wanted to argue, but Alice tugged on his sleeve. "Come on. Let Carlisle work."
As they filed out—Emmett still grinning, Rosalie still scowling, Jasper watching Peter with an expression that might have been sympathy—Peter followed Carlisle into what was clearly a doctor's home office.
Medical texts lined the walls, their spines worn from use. A desk held a computer that looked relatively modern, and there was an examination table set up near the window. Everything was clean, organized, professional.
Carlisle closed the door and gestured for Peter to sit on the exam table. "I won't do anything invasive. Just some basic observations, if that's alright."
Peter hopped up onto the table, his movements too graceful, too controlled. "You're being very nice about this. Most people would've kicked me out or called the cops or... I don't know, assumed I was insane."
"Most people aren't vampires who've lived for several centuries," Carlisle said with a small smile. "You learn to keep an open mind when you're immortal. Now, may I?"
He reached toward Peter's wrist, and Peter nodded. Carlisle's fingers pressed against his pulse point—or where his pulse point used to be—and frowned.
"No heartbeat," he confirmed. "But that's expected. Your skin temperature is cold, matching ours. Pupils fully dilated, which indicates intense thirst." He pulled out a small penlight and shone it in Peter's eyes. "Responsive to light, though the reaction is slower than a human's would be."
Peter sat still as Carlisle continued his examination, feeling like a particularly exotic specimen. The doctor checked his reflexes, the flexibility of his joints, even asked him to demonstrate his speed by moving from one side of the room to the other.
Peter did, and the world blurred. One second he was by the exam table, the next he was pressed against the far wall, and he hadn't even felt the motion. Just the displacement of air and the vague sense of having moved.
"Remarkable," Carlisle murmured. "Your speed matches a newborn's, possibly exceeds it. And your control is exceptional. Most newborns are ruled entirely by instinct for the first few weeks."
"I've got Jasper's emotional dampening helping," Peter pointed out. "And the System gives me mental clarity that I probably wouldn't have otherwise."
"This System." Carlisle set down his penlight and leaned against the desk, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. "You said it's in your head. Is it sentient?"
Peter opened his mouth, then closed it. "I... don't know. Sometimes it feels like it is. Like it's got a personality, or at least a sense of humor. But it also could just be really advanced programming. I've only been aware of it for a few hours."
"Does it communicate with you?"
"Yeah. Text messages, basically. They appear in my vision, and it responds to direct questions sometimes. Not always, but sometimes."
"And it's responsible for your mental shields?"
"That's what it says. Protection from telepathy, mind control, precognition—anything that would mess with my head from the outside."
Carlisle was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then: "Edward told me you were able to use compulsion. On a human in town, before you'd copied any abilities. How is that possible if you were human at the time?"
Peter's jaw tightened. He'd been hoping that particular detail would get lost in the chaos. "I don't know. It just... happened. I needed to get out of paying for food, and the words came out, and the waitress believed me."
"That's not normal human capability."
"Yeah, I'm getting that impression."
"Which suggests the System may be granting you more than just the ability to copy powers." Carlisle's expression was thoughtful, not accusatory. "It may be enhancing your natural capabilities as well. Or perhaps you had latent abilities that it's unlocking."
The thought made Peter's stomach twist—or would have, if vampires' stomachs did anything. "Latent abilities. Like I was already supernatural?"
"Possibly. Or perhaps the act of transmigration—assuming that's what happened—fundamentally altered you in ways you're only beginning to discover."
"That's a terrifying thought."
"Is it?" Carlisle tilted his head. "You've been given a second chance at life, along with abilities most people would consider gifts. Yes, there are drawbacks, but—"
"But I'm not actually alive," Peter interrupted. "Right now, I'm a walking corpse powered by stolen blood. And in twenty-four hours, I'll be back to being breakable and mortal and useless. That's not a gift, Doctor Cullen. That's a loan with a really shitty interest rate."
Carlisle's expression softened. "You sound like someone who's lost something precious."
Peter looked away, focusing on the medical texts lining the walls. Anatomy. Pathology. Surgery techniques that Carlisle would never need to use on himself but kept sharp for his human patients.
"I died," Peter said quietly. "In my old life. Car accident. I pushed a kid out of the way, and the car hit me instead. And I remember dying. I remember the pain, and the fear, and thinking 'this is it, this is how it ends.' Then I woke up here, in a world that shouldn't exist, with powers I don't understand and a System I don't trust. So yeah, Doctor Cullen. I lost something precious. I lost my whole fucking reality."
Silence filled the study, broken only by the rain pattering against the windows.
Then Carlisle moved, crossing the distance between them, and did something Peter didn't expect.
He put a hand on Peter's shoulder. Not restraining, not threatening. Just... there. Solid and real and offering something that might have been comfort.
"I'm sorry," Carlisle said simply. "That's a burden no one should have to carry alone."
Peter's throat closed up. He wanted to shrug off the hand, to deflect with sarcasm like he always did, but he couldn't make himself move.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted, the words scraping out. "I don't know why I'm here or what I'm supposed to do or if there even is a 'supposed to.' I just know that I'm terrified and hungry and so, so tired of being alone."
"Then don't be alone." Carlisle's voice was gentle. "You've stumbled into our lives under extraordinary circumstances, but that doesn't mean we're going to turn you away. Stay. Let us help you figure this out. At least until your twenty-four hours are up and you're human again."
Peter finally looked up, meeting those impossibly old, impossibly kind golden eyes. "Why? You don't know me. I could be dangerous. Hell, I am dangerous—you said it yourself, I'm a newborn vampire with unstable powers and a mysterious System. Why would you risk your family for someone like me?"
Carlisle smiled, and it was sad and knowing and full of the weight of centuries. "Because I remember what it's like to be newly turned and terrified. Because I've spent three hundred years believing that we can be better than our nature demands. And because..." He paused. "Because you remind me of Edward, when I first turned him. Lost. Angry at being given a life you didn't ask for. But unlike Edward, you have a choice. You'll be human again tomorrow. You can walk away from all of this."
"But I won't," Peter said, and realized it was true even as he said it. "I can't. Because I need the powers. I need to get stronger, to collect more abilities, to hit that permanent unlock. The System isn't going to just let me be human and live a normal life. It's pushing me toward something, and I don't know what, but I know I have to keep moving forward."
"Then we'll help you," Carlisle said firmly. "On one condition."
"What condition?"
"You don't hurt humans. You don't use your compulsion for harm. And if you're going to hunt vampires or other supernatural beings to copy their powers, you do it ethically. No innocent kills."
Peter barked a laugh. "Ethical power copying. Is that even possible?"
"We'll find out together."
The door opened before Peter could respond. Alice poked her head in, her expression bright. "Sorry to interrupt the bonding moment, but the sun's going down and we need to get Peter fed before he starts eyeing Esme like a juice box."
"I would never—" Peter started, then caught the scent of something warm drifting from the living room and felt his fangs ache. "Okay, yeah, we should probably go now."
Carlisle squeezed his shoulder once more, then stepped back. "Jasper and Emmett will go with you for your first hunt. I'll stay here with Esme and Rosalie."
"Edward and I are coming too," Alice announced. "I want to see how this works. Plus, someone needs to make sure Emmett doesn't bet money on Peter's hunting skills."
"I wasn't going to bet money," Emmett's voice called from somewhere deeper in the house. "I was going to bet a week of dish duty."
"We don't use dishes," Rosalie said flatly.
"It's the principle of the thing!"
Peter found himself smiling despite everything. This family—and they clearly were a family, in all the ways that mattered—was absolutely insane. And somehow, impossibly, they were offering to help him.
He slid off the exam table and followed Carlisle back to the living room, where the others had assembled. Edward stood near the windows, arms crossed, still looking suspicious. Jasper had positioned himself near the door, ready to move. Emmett was practically bouncing with excitement, and Alice was studying Peter with that unfocused gaze that said she was trying and failing to see his future.
"Alright," Carlisle said. "Basic rules: Stay with the group. Don't engage any prey until Jasper gives you the all-clear. And for the love of all that's holy, try not to destroy the forest. We've worked hard to maintain good relations with the Quileute tribe, and they get tetchy when vampires leave obvious signs of their presence."
"Quileute tribe," Peter repeated, his meta knowledge kicking in. "The shapeshifters."
Every vampire in the room went still.
"How do you know about the shapeshifters?" Edward demanded, his voice sharp as broken glass.
Peter's mind raced. "The System gave me a briefing on local supernatural entities. Said there was a tribe with the genetic capability to transform into wolves in response to vampire presence. They haven't activated yet—won't until you guys have been here long enough to trigger the change—but the potential's there."
It wasn't entirely a lie. He did know about the wolves, just not from any System briefing.
Carlisle's expression was troubled. "That's... concerning. The tribe's legends are supposed to be secret."
"Well, apparently my System doesn't care about secrets." Peter shrugged. "Look, I'm not going to do anything with the information. I'm just trying to survive here, not start a supernatural war."
"Good," Jasper said quietly. "Because if you did start something with the Quileute, it would end very badly for everyone involved."
"Noted. No pissing off the future wolf pack. Got it."
Emmett clapped his hands together again, and Peter was starting to recognize it as his signature move. "Alright, enough scary talk. Let's go watch the newbie catch his first deer. This is going to be hilarious."
"It's really not," Peter muttered, but he followed them toward the back of the house anyway.
They exited through a wall of glass that slid open with a whisper, stepping out onto a deck that overlooked the forest. The rain had slowed to a mist, and the air was thick with the smell of wet earth and vegetation.
And underneath it, threading through everything else like a siren song: life.
Peter's head snapped toward the trees. He could hear heartbeats, dozens of them, scattered through the underbrush. Small and fast—rabbits, maybe, or squirrels. Larger and slower—deer. And somewhere in the distance, something big and powerful that made his vampire instincts sit up and take notice.
"Bear," Jasper said, following his gaze. "Emmett's favorite. But we'll start you on something smaller."
"You hunt bears?" Peter asked, momentarily distracted from the burning in his throat.
"Hell yeah I hunt bears," Emmett said proudly. "Mountain lions are good too, but bears have more blood. Plus they put up a fight, which makes it fun."
"Fun," Peter echoed weakly.
"Come on." Alice grabbed his hand—her skin was cold and hard as marble, but her grip was gentle. "We'll show you how it's done."
She pulled, and Peter stumbled forward, his vampire reflexes kicking in to keep him upright. Then they were moving, and the world blurred into streaks of green and gray.
Running as a vampire was nothing like running as a human. There was no burn in the muscles, no gasping for breath, no gradual buildup of speed. One moment Peter was on the deck, the next he was half a mile into the forest, moving so fast the trees were just vertical lines in his peripheral vision.
Alice released his hand, and he skidded to a stop in a clearing, his feet carving furrows in the moss.
"Holy shit," he breathed.
"Right?" Emmett appeared beside him with a grin. "Never gets old."
Jasper and Edward materialized seconds later, moving with the fluid grace of predators in their element. They formed a loose circle around Peter, and he realized this was less a hunting party and more a containment strategy.
They were making sure he didn't run toward town. Toward humans.
"There's a deer about a hundred yards northeast," Edward said quietly. "Young buck, alone. Perfect for a first hunt."
Peter turned his head, and his senses locked onto the target immediately. He could hear its heartbeat, steady and strong. Could smell its fear-sweat and the musk of its hide. Could track its exact position through sound and scent alone.
His body coiled, ready to spring.
"Wait." Jasper's hand landed on his shoulder, and another wave of calm washed over him. "Don't just chase it. You're faster than it is, but if you go in blind, you'll spook it and waste energy. Use your senses. Track it. Let it come to you."
Peter forced himself to breathe, to think past the predatory instincts screaming at him to just move. "Okay. Track it. How?"
"Close your eyes," Alice said softly. "Trust your other senses."
Peter did, and the world exploded into sensation. Without sight to anchor him, everything else sharpened to an almost painful degree. He could hear the deer's breathing, ragged with exertion. Could smell the trail it had left behind, crushed grass and disturbed earth. Could feel the vibrations of its hoofbeats through the ground.
"Now," Jasper murmured. "Move."
Peter moved.
The world snapped back into focus as he ran, but it was different now—filtered through predatory awareness that was both his and not his. He saw the deer before it saw him, a flash of brown hide between the trees. Saw the moment its head came up, nostrils flaring as it caught his scent.
Saw the instant it decided to bolt.
Peter was faster.
He closed the distance in three bounds, his body moving on instinct, and then he was on it. His arms wrapped around its neck, his weight bearing it down to the ground. The deer thrashed, eyes rolling white with terror, and Peter's fangs ached with the need to bite drink feed—
He bit down.
Hot blood flooded his mouth, and Peter's entire world narrowed to that single point of contact. It tasted wrong—animal, not human, lacking something essential—but it was liquid and warm and it made the burning in his throat recede like a tide.
He drank until the heartbeat beneath his hands stuttered and stopped. Drank until the deer went limp. Drank until there was nothing left but cooling flesh and the shameful realization of what he'd just done.
Peter released the corpse and staggered backward, blood smearing his lips and chin.
"Oh god," he whispered.
"First kill's always rough," Emmett said, appearing at his elbow. There was sympathy in his voice, tempered with understanding. "You did good, man. Clean, quick. The deer didn't suffer."
"I just killed something." Peter's hands were shaking. "I just... I tore out its throat and drank its blood like it was nothing."
"You're a vampire," Rosalie said, her tone matter-of-fact. She'd appeared with the others, forming a ring around him. "This is what we do. What we are."
"For the next twenty-three hours," Peter corrected, and felt something like hysteria bubbling up. "Then I'm human again, and I have to live with the memory of this."
"Hey." Alice's hand found his again, squeezing tight. "You survived. The deer died so you could survive. That's nature. Not pretty, but necessary."
Peter wanted to argue, wanted to point out that nature didn't usually involve undead creatures drinking blood, but the words died in his throat. Because she was right. This was his reality now. For today, he was a vampire. Tomorrow he'd be human. But either way, he'd have to learn to live with what he was capable of.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: First blood consumption recorded. Vampire physiological needs partially satisfied. Recommendation: Hunt again within 6-8 hours to maintain control. Note: Performance exceeded baseline newborn parameters. Well done, Host.
The last sentence felt almost... proud? Like the System was pleased with him for not completely losing his shit during his first hunt.
Well done yourself, Peter thought sarcastically. You turned me into a monster. Gold star.
SYSTEM RESPONSE: Monster designation: Subjective. Host maintains moral agency and decision-making capability. Supernatural status does not preclude ethical behavior. Complaint: Noted.
"Are you okay?" Edward asked, his voice cutting through Peter's internal argument.
Peter looked up and found five sets of golden eyes watching him with varying degrees of concern. Even Rosalie's hostility had softened into something that might have been respect.
"Yeah," Peter said finally. "Yeah, I'm... I'm okay. Just processing."
"Take your time," Carlisle said from behind him, and Peter jumped. He hadn't heard the doctor approach, which was impressive given his enhanced senses. "There's no rush."
But there was, Peter knew. Because in twenty-three hours, he'd be human again. Vulnerable. Breakable. And he still had nine more abilities to copy before he could lock one in as permanent.
"I need to hunt more," Peter said abruptly. "Not just animals. I need to find more supernatural beings, more powers to copy. The clock's ticking."
"We can help with that," Alice offered. "There are nomadic vampires who pass through occasionally. Usually harmless, but if they have interesting abilities—"
"No." Edward's voice was sharp. "Absolutely not. You're not sending him after nomads. They'll rip him apart."
"He's stronger than you think," Alice argued. "And he has the System protecting him."
"The System can't protect him from being torn to pieces!"
"Actually," Peter interrupted, "the System has an auto-save function. If I'm about to die, it forcibly transforms me into whatever form is best suited to handle the threat. Then it punishes me afterward for being stupid enough to get into that situation in the first place."
Everyone stared at him.
"It punishes you?" Esme said faintly. "How?"
"Haven't experienced it yet, but apparently it assigns consequences that are embarrassing or inconvenient. The System's exact words were 'good luck, Host,' which doesn't fill me with confidence."
Emmett started laughing, great booming chuckles that echoed through the forest. "Oh man, I like this System. It's got style."
"It's sadistic," Peter corrected, but he found himself smiling despite everything. The absurdity of the situation was almost comforting in its own way.
Carlisle was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then: "If you're determined to collect more abilities, we can help you do it safely. But not tonight. Tonight, you adjust to being a vampire. Tomorrow, when you're human again, we'll discuss strategy."
"And if I see a vampire I want to copy tomorrow?"
"Then you make the choice to transform again," Carlisle said simply. "But this time, you'll do it with knowledge and preparation. Not out of desperation."
Peter wanted to argue, wanted to push for immediate action, but the weight of the last few hours was catching up to him. He'd died, transmigrated, gained powers, transformed into a vampire, hunted and killed his first prey, and formed a tentative alliance with a family of supernatural beings.
That was enough for one day.
"Okay," he agreed. "Tomorrow we plan. Tonight I just... exist."
"Good choice." Carlisle's smile was warm. "Now, let's get you back to the house. Esme's already planning where you'll sleep, and trust me—you don't want to argue with Esme about hospitality."
They ran back through the forest, and this time Peter let himself enjoy it. The speed, the power, the way the world blurred into something beautiful and terrible at once. Tomorrow he'd lose this. But for now, for these precious hours, he was more than human.
He was supernatural.
And against all odds, he wasn't alone.