The Edge of Insanity | Rosalie Hale

Chapter 4: Golden Eyes and a Symphony of Silence

The transatlantic flight was an ordeal. Even aboard the Volturi's luxurious private plane, ten hours cooped up felt like an eternity. For a vampire with supernatural hearing, it was worse. The incessant roar of the propellers, the groan of the fuselage against the wind, and the constant thrumming of the engines were an unrelenting symphony of torment. He wouldn't kill any human onboard, of course. Discretion was paramount, but the urge was a constant itch beneath his skin. Thankfully, the crew consisted solely of discreet vampires, sparing him the additional irritation of human interaction.

Stepping off the plane onto the crisp Calgary tarmac, Daniel stretched, his inhuman grace belying the cramped flight. First things first: a room at a respectable hotel and a local newspaper. Under the cloak of a cool evening, he ventured into the city. The usual urban symphony played out around him – a drunken reveler bellowing outside a bar, a stray cat yowling for scraps, the murmur of young women strolling to a local jazz club. The newspaper headlines screamed of a spate of recent murders, all concentrated within a specific district. His mission was clear: patrol that area and hunt down the rogue vampire disrupting the city's peace and risking their secret.

Hours bled into what felt like an eternity of aimless wandering. No murderous culprit, no lurking vampire, nothing remotely interesting broke the monotony of the night. The gnawing emptiness within him intensified, a chilling echo of Jane's parting words. Perhaps she was right about needing company. Maybe he did crave the distraction, a buffer against the relentless assault of his own tormented memories.

A tide of despair washed over him, dragging him back to the horrors of 1914. He was reliving the nightmares again – his own screams echoing as he was captured. His mother's voice, a desperate plea for him to stay, haunted him, just for her to die days later, the news arrived: a bombing in Dover, his hometown, claimed her life and his two younger brothers, barely thirteen at the time. It was their deaths that fueled his rage, his need for action. Coupled with a naive sense of patriotism, he'd thrown himself into the war, desperate to serve his country in any way he could.

Consumed by his internal turmoil, he hadn't realized he'd wandered to the city's outskirts. The night air grew colder, and the spectral screams of his mother intensified, echoing his own from the battlefield. He could almost see the vacant stares on his brothers' faces. The whispers in his head escalated, morphing into a cacophony of torment. He knew what loomed: the insatiable hunger, the urge to kill to silence the voices.

But resist it, he did. The deafening pleas transformed into a deafening roar, driving him to a desperate run. He plunged into the forest, limbs churning, desperate to outrun the torment. A sudden, jarring impact brought him crashing down, the force of it akin to colliding with a block of marble.

He looked up, stunned, to find himself sprawled on top of a woman of breathtaking beauty. Vampires were renowned for their allure, but this one transcended anything he'd ever encountered. Her face was a flawless canvas, sculpted with high cheekbones and a perfect jawline. Her eyes, the color of molten gold, held a captivating intensity, as though they held the secrets of the universe within their depths. A cascade of blonde hair framed her heart-shaped face, untouched by the passage of time. Her full lips, the color of ripe berries, held a hint of a seductive smile that sent a jolt through him. She radiated an ethereal luminescence, her skin shimmering with an otherworldly glow. Her eyes held a depth of wisdom that left him speechless.

The most remarkable change, however, was not in the world around him, but within. The voices in his head had vanished, replaced by a welcome silence.

Mortification washed over Daniel as he realized his blunder. He scrambled to his feet, extending a hand to the stunning vampire with an apologetic bow. "Forgive my atrocious manners, love. I'm Daniel Volturi."