Embers [Completed]

{Identify}

I kiss Jasper goodnight and watch as he disappears into the woods, presumably to hunt.

My heart feels like its resting on a nest of contentment. I fully trust Carlisle on his word, or though I have crushed a few worrying thoughts about how he's going to do it.

He's a pacifist, and very gentle. I don't imagine him ever doing something to hurt anyone, no matter their crime.

So I find it easy to fall into bed and pass out.

But apparently Bella doesn't understand the meaning of its the weekend let me sleep as she bursts into my room, beaming with enthusiasm.

"You never told me you could dance!" She exclaims, bouncing on the end of my bed with her phone in her hands.

My mind is still thick with sleep as I try and rub my eyes to clear them. "What're-"

But before I'm able to speak or properly wake up, a video from the Cullen's front room yesterday is pushed in my face with the volume up.

David Bowie Heros fills my ears as I flinch back from the sudden bright light. Once my vision refocuses, I see Jasper and I dancing smoothly, and might I say very well, around the place.

Everything clicks in my head and I growl. "Edward."

"Where did you learn that?" Bella asks, still smiling widely.

"I took lessons when I was thirteen," I say, and pull myself into a sitting position.

"I don't recognise the style, though."

"It's rock and roll..." I sigh, yawning. "What time is it?"

"Six, I think."

My eyes widen and I throw a pillow at her. "Six in the morning?! It's the bloody weekend!"

Bella laughs as she dodges another pillow. "I'm sorry, I've just been really energetic because-"

"Of Edward. I know. And I'm pretty sure Charlie knows too. You guys ain't exactly subtle," I mutter, glaring darkly at the glimmer of sun behind my curtains.

Bella stares for a moment, then goes red. "We didn't-"

"I know you didn't. Edward's very old fanishioned about that. But, as forewarning, the walls are really thin," I say, and stretch, earning a loud crack from my shoulder.

Bella frowns at the noise. "That sounds sore."

I peer at it as I flex the muscle. "It's done that since I started boxing."

Her frown deepens. "You won't start again, will you?"

"No. I'm done with it. I can't deny I'll miss it, but it's something I would like to keep in the past," I say.

"Well, I'm glad. I don't know if I could handle knowing you're still fighting," Bella says grimly.

She came to two of my fights, the second one because she enjoyed the first so much. But the second didn't go too far in my favour, and, while I won, I came away with some injuries and a nasty scar to boot.

After that, Bella refused to watch, and begged me to quit. But I couldn't, not then. She just made me promise I would get out when my life became threatened, in return for not telling Renee or Phil.

"I'm going to let you wake up a bit more," Bella says as she skips from the room before I have the chance to throw another pillow.

Less than ten minutes later, my phone rings. The contact is unknown.

"Hello?"

"Jordan Blitz. It's been a while."

Jonathan Martin? What the hell.

I don't respond.

"I'm afraid we need you to go down to the hospital."

"Why?"

"They need someone to identify Johnny's body, and both his mother and I are away on business."

A cold shock runs through my body, jolting me in my seat. My hand grips the corner of my bed tightly.

"What happened?"

"He was found beaten to a pulp and left by the road. I suppose that case of his doesn't mean much anymore."

I'm struggling to speak. Thoughts are sticking together in my head.

Carlisle would never, never, condone the killing of a child. No matter how twisted. Unless whoever he spoke to got it wrong. But as a vampire, I doubt he would have left him in one piece with that much blood spilled.

So, who the fuck was it.

"I'll be there."

"Good. I don't expect to see you at his funeral."

"Mr Martin, I'm sorry." Johnny may not have been the best person, but he didn't deserve to die, especially not like that.

"I'm sure you are. But that doesn't change anything, does it? Please delete my number."

A loud beep signals the calls end, and I let my phone slip into my curled fist.

I have to get down there. I have to see the damage with my own eyes. That way, I can maybe find out who and why he was killed. Because I know Carlisle had nothing to do with this.

Bella is still here, so I walk into her room, stony faced and stiff. "Can I borrow the truck?"

She looks at me with a raised brow. "Why?"

"Johnny Martin's been murdered and they need someone to identify the body." I grab the keys off her desk and walk out.

Luckily, I am already dressed, and thus have nothing prohibiting me from leaving the house immediately.

If Charlie saw me driving without a licence, I'm sure I'd be grounded for all time. But he's at work so I'm good.

The drive takes me less than fifteen minutes, and I run up to reception.

"What can I help you with, miss?"

"I'm here to identify the body of Johnny Martin," I say, surprising myself with the calm way the words come out.

I'm led to a small cold, steel plated room that I recognise as a morgue. I do not want to think about how many bodies are around me right now.

The doctor, or morgue runner whatever, pulls out a large tray with a body bag on it.

He unzips it after a vague warning. But nothing could prepare me for what I see when what should have been Johnny's face becomes visible.

I've seen bad facial injuries in boxing; a few on myself; and a few I've caused.

But this...this is horrific. Most of his jaw has been crushed, taking the shape from his face. Both of his eye sockets have been pushed so far into his face his nose has lost it's supports.

None of the sleek, handsome bone structure survived this. Only because I've known him for so long, can I know it's him.

The blond smooth hair that always drew everyone in, along with his piercing blue eyes, is caked in dried blood.

"That's Johnny," I say softly.

He's zipped back up, and I leave the morgue in somewhat of a daze.

I don't care what he ever did to me. Johnny was a teenage boy, with plenty of time to change. I never wanted to see him like that.

My hand clenches tightly around the small metal spike. I managed to take it from Johnny's windpipe when the man had turned around to deal with something else.

I know how he died, I think I know who did it, but I have no idea why.

Only one person would have the balls to murder Johnny Martin.

Marco.