Untouchable (Twilight FanFiction)

Chapter 2

I walked to my coven's meeting place confidently, my thirst quenched. When I got there, Cora, Violet, and Hunter were already in the alleyway arguing.

"Hunter, just go to the corner," Cora sighed.

Hunter sighed dramatically. He walked over to a corner by the dumpster and sat down. Violet rolled her eyes.

"What did he do this time?" I asked, not really interested in the answer.

What do you think? Violet said, her quiet voice ringing in my head.

I shrugged. Hunter was usually annoying, especially to Violet. He had a huge and not-so-secret crush on her. Even though she made it very clear that she wasn't interested, he just wouldn't give up. So he was usually sitting in the corner if he wasn't hunting. Which was fine with me—he was easier to babysit that way.

"Where were you?" Cora asked, her blood-red eyes staring me down. Getting stared at by Cora was as scary as hell. In fact, if you didn't know her, being within a half-mile of Cora would be as scary as hell. Cora scared people. And things. I think she enjoyed it, too. It simply wasn't fair.

"Hunting," I said, trying not to falter under Cora's gaze. I had gotten pretty good at it, but most of the time Cora could see right through me. If I had a soul, I bet Cora would somehow see it.

She must've been distracted, because she let me off with an "Okay" and the subject was dropped.

It was nearing six o'clock in the morning, and I hoped it would be a cloudy day that day. Staying in the shadows was completely and utterly boring.

Surely enough, the sun rose to reveal that it would in fact be a cloudy day, and I sighed with relief. I was free. "Yes, Nessa, you can go," said Cora just seconds after the sun was up. I always asked her for freedom on cloudy days.

"Merci, Cora," I replied, and was on my way.

Okay, so, yeah, I did speak French there. When I was growing up, my mother (and the rest of her family) believed that every Canadian should speak French as well as English. They were all proper and crap. So I grew up in a bilingual household.

I didn't linger on my past much, but sometimes the memories caught up with me. I remembered my mother, who was now in her seventies and living alone. I was an only child, and after my father had passed away (murdered, actualy, but I'll get to that part later) my mother and I had gotten even closer. I can barely imagine how she'd felt when her only child had gone missing just months after her husband was stabbed and robbed by an unknown stranger. I found myself walking closer and closer to the graveyard where he was buried. And, before I could stop myself, I fell headfirst into the memories.

Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. February 21st, 1987.

Ah, I couldn't wait for my birthday the next day. I was turning seventeen, and my mother was sure to throw another surprise party for me. I loved my mother's parties—she always knew who to invite.

It was getting dark, and Mom probably wanted me home soon, so I said goodbye to my friends in the small café and proceeded to walk to my home a couple blocks away.

On the way home I thought about my "friend" Mandy and how she was dating one of my ex-boyfriends, Chris. That bitch. You don't just date someone's ex like that! And without asking for permission! None of my other friends liked her either—we all agreed that she was a good-for-nothing putain. But she was on the cheerleading squad, so I had to put up with her.

Man, I was so going to be head cheerleader the next year, There was no way they couldn't give me that title. Then I could kick Mandy's sorry little ass off the squad. After all, I could tell she was trying to steal my place at the top of the pyramid. Everyone knew that I was the best gymnast in the school—I had the perfect body for it, too.