sub·lime
/səˈblīm/
adjective
❝ of such excellence, grandeur, or beauty as to inspire great admiration or awe ❞
The year was 1987, and delinquency was all the rage. For high school senior Sydney O'Connell, however, it was more of a lifestyle. Being a...
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Seattle, Washington 1987
CHAPTER FOUR
"It's time you learned a bit about my family history, Sydney," Carlisle said.
They were seated at the dinner table, where Sydney sat nursing a cup of freshly brewed coffee- black.
He looked up from picking at an old scab on the back of his hand to see his foster dad smiling at him with that prim smile of his. Sydney grimaced.
"Why? I'm pretty sure you're just the newest edition to some long line of rich white squares from Europe." He shrugged, leaning forward in his chair.
Carlisle's perfect features didn't falter. Rather, he simply tapped his long pale finger against the dark wooden table and said:
"I figured you'd think as much, but no. I am not. Now, shall we begin in my study?"
The boy blinked a couple of times. Couldn't Sydney just sulk in peace for once?
Letting out a long sigh, Sydney hugged the mug close to his chest and got up, motioning to Carlisle to lead the way.
And like a prince, Carlisle waltzed out of the kitchen and down the hall as if class were in session.
"This is my ancestor, Jonathan Cullen." Carlisle began, pointing to a man in a painting from another time. "He was an aristocrat from London until he moved to Italy in hopes to be a part of the reform."
Sydney stood with his eyes keenly on Jonathan, noting that the man was the spitting image of Carlisle. The realization made the hairs on Sydney's nape bristle.
"You look exactly like him." He breathed, turning to catch Carlisle's expression.
But of course, the doctor was as calm and collected as ever, the ghost of a smile on his perfect face.
Carlisle chucked. "Yes, I suppose I do. We are related after all."
A wave of stupidity splashed over Sydney in ice cold laps. Of course it couldn't be Carlisle in the painting, that'd be insane.
"So about about the other guys next to him?" Sydney asked, changing the subject.
He pointed out the three men at the top who looked somehow ancient.
"Ah, the volturi you mean." Carlisle said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
