Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and its affiliates. I just play.

A/N This o/s was entered into the Meet the Mate contest. It actually won Best Original Storyline! There were 79 entries, which were all excellent, and I readily invite you to check all of them out! This particular story is actually an original story that I'm working on, and decided to turn it Twi for this contest. Needless to say, I'm humbled by the positive response it has gotten so far and will definitely be continuing it! GeekChick was my beta for this one, and Twilly preread.

I've just gotten out of a study group for the course I'm taking on Roman funerary monuments, when I notice I have several text messages and missed calls. I pull up the call log; only one name is listed: Maggie. This alone tells me I should wait until I get home before reading her messages and calling her back.

"Izzy, want to go grab lunch and outline this essay?" my assignment partner, Charlotte, asks.

I hesitate, knowing Maggie would not reach out to me if it weren't important.

"Oh, come on. You know you'll have to eat anyway. Why not kill two birds with one stone?"

"Fine. But we'll have to be quick. My uhm… cousin just texted me, and I'll have to call her back soon."

"Nothing serious, I hope?" the dark-haired girl asks, her honey-colored eyes worried.

"Probably not," I lie, plastering on a stage smile. "Let's get going before all the tables are occupied."

Charlotte munches on her sandwich as I move the food around on my tray. She is blissfully unobservant of my picking, and I manage to keep her occupied by focusing on our assignment. Once we've agreed on a timeline and have scheduled a few meetings, I excuse myself and hurry home, where I pull out my phone and check my messages.

Call me. I have news.

Seriously, it's important.

Why aren't you picking up?

Call me back as soon as you get this message. I need to talk to you.

The voicemail messages are even more urgent, and I start to worry. It's not like Maggie to be so cryptic and vague, let alone pressing. Usually, she lets me know where to go and when, and things will sort themselves out almost naturally. Not wasting any more time, I hit the speed dial. She picks up on the second ring.

"Finally!" she exclaims. "I was beginning to think you were ignoring me!"

"I was in class," I remind her. "What's going on?"

"You may want to take the semester off. Possibly the rest of the year."

"There'd better be a good reason for me to uproot this soon," I warn her.

Maggie descends from my mother's family and has inherited some of its magic. She has a strong sense of foreboding, and most of her dreams are actually premonitions. I trust her implicitly, but I'm hesitant in following directions without knowing their origin.

"You know I wouldn't ask you to unless it was important. The dreams are about you lately. And they're always the same. You need to act on them now. You're running out of time."

That piques my interest, and I ask her to explain.

"I see you traveling," she begins, and her voice takes on a dreamy quality, like it always does when she's regaling one of her visions. "There is a powerful man with you, but he doesn't realize his significance. He's the one you've been waiting for. But he's in danger…"

Her words transport me back to a time long ago, and apprehension settles upon me. I know I will need to contact my sire, Rosalie.

I haven't seen or talked to her in a while – that while being over a decade – and we didn't part under the best of circumstances. Knowing I need her help and that postponing it will only make things more difficult, I finally scroll to her number in my phone

"Isabella, my child, it's so good to hear from you. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Her sensuous, strangely-accented voice feels like coming home after a long journey. In a way, she is kind of like home to me, one of the few constants in my ever-changing existence.

"Do I need a reason to call my dear sister?" I stall. "Oh, and I go by Izzy these days."

"Very well, Izzy," she emphasizes. "Of course you don't need a reason, but I have a feeling you're not just calling to catch up on the last ten years."

"Speaking of which, how is Emmett?"

"He's wonderful. Thank you for asking. We ran into a little trouble in the beginning, but fortunately the chaos back then helped cover it up, and we relocated to Alaska for a while. This week has been a bit difficult for him, though…"

"I'm glad things worked out for the two of you," I say sincerely. "I hope you didn't take my departure too personally?"

"Of course not! I had all but forgotten that little spat already. Now, tell me. What has you so worried that you call me so unexpectedly?"

I explain to her what Maggie told me. When I'm finished, she's quiet for a while.

"For some reason this reminds me of Delphi…" she muses, confirming my own suspicions that Maggie's premonition is the beginning of finding the answer to a centuries-old question. "Can you scry with her? As soon as you have a location, we'll meet you there."

o.O.o

After my call to Rosalie, I call Maggie back, telling her I will make the drive down as soon as I get things settled here. Then I fabricate a family emergency – which isn't a complete lie – to explain my sudden leave of absence from university. The last thing I do before packing a bag and locking up my house is call Charlotte, giving her the same story and apologizing for bailing on her during our assignment. She reacts as expected. Concern laces through her words as she assures me she will manage, especially since the professor will be notified of the circumstances. Needless to say, she is surprised when I tell her I'm in the process of e-mailing her the research I've already completed on our topic, which is quite substantial and will guarantee a high grade on her paper. It's the least I can do.

Maggie greets me at the street level front door leading up to her tiny apartment, offering me a hug in welcome before guiding me up the stairs and into her home. She offers me a glass of red wine while she pours herself another cup of tea – cranberry green tea, based on the aroma – and rummages through a pile of papers on her coffee table.

I immediately cut to the chase and ask her if she has any more information to share with me, knowing we're dealing with a looming deadline.

"The premonition is the same. But last night I got a better look at the man who's with you…"

She hands me a sketchbook, flipping it open to the second-to-last entry. Striking green eyes stare at me from the paper. They are framed by ridiculously thick lashes, heavy but sculpted eyebrows over them. The drawing is only of the top half of a face, and Maggie explains that she wasn't able to see the rest of it. Shaggy reddish brown hair surrounds it, most of it obscured, though, by some sort of head covering.

"There's more," she says, turning the page.

On it is a vivid image of a Chinese-style dragon, running across an upper arm, shoulder blade, and down the right side of a torso, the head taking up most of the ribcage. The drawing is mostly in grays, but there are a few brightly-colored accents in the beast's claws, tail, and head. I find myself tracing the lines and admiring the shading, wondering if it's Maggie's artistic skills or the quality of the tattoo that makes it come to life as much as it does.

The ancient prophecy I received at Delphi comes to the forefront of my mind, and I study the drawings intently, somehow recognizing details of it in them.

Man of the elements… old bonds, new world… sign of the dragon…

Could this really be him?

I am pulled from my thoughts when she hands me my refilled glass.

"Sorry I couldn't give you more details on him, but hopefully this will at least help," she says apologetically.

"Of course it will," I assure her. "Thank you so much. Besides, there's another way you can help right now."

Putting the sketchbook aside, I down my drink before elaborating.

"If I'm to protect him, I need to know where to search for him. I know how to scry, but adding your power will make the outcome more accurate."

"Of course." She nods. "Do you have something we can use as a pendant?"

I pull out the pouch I always carry with me. In it is an assortment of gems, stones, and crystals, all with different attributes. Maggie grabs an atlas from her bookcase and clears a space on the dining room table. She opens it up at a world map, since we have no clue what continent on which to even begin our search. We hold hands while I dangle the crystal, tied to a long string of cotton, over the map, letting it sway gently. I can feel our combined power course through me into the crystal, guiding its course.

I call Rosalie to provide her with an update and to coordinate any travel details.

"Are you sure?" she questions.

"Yes. We double-checked. That's why it took so long."

"It's such an unusual place for a magical gathering," she muses aloud.

"I'm sure there's a good reason I'm being sent there. Maggie is going to take me to the airport as soon we hang up. Where are you?"

"We're in Australia. We'll fly out of Sydney. Alice happens to have a property in the area; we can stay there. I'll give her a call."

o.O.o

Alice meets me at the airport in a brand new, flashy silver convertible with dark tinted windows. The drive is spent making small talk and catching up as she tells me about attending college here, majoring in fashion this time around.

"I mean, I've seen and worn so many styles… Why not revive some of my favorites?"

She then regales me with anecdotes about her sorority sisters.

"Can you believe it? Me, a Tri-Delt! But it's so much fun! Especially after my last attempt at an American college experience…"

We both grimace at the memory of that particular incident in the mid-seventies, when we had to relocate overnight after a hippie-meets-frat party took a turn for the worse.

Even in rush-hour traffic, she manages to get us to Malibu in under an hour.

"Well, here we are," she announces as we turn onto a private driveway through a tall automated gate. "Mi casa es su casa, as they say around here."

Her giggle is lost on me as I take in the sight before me. The house is a typical Southern California mix of old-world elegance and pompous grandeur.

"I simply had to have it when I first saw it," she offers as explanation. "Imagine the parties I can host here!"

"As long as you refrain from throwing parties like those I pulled you out of," the voice of our sire warns jokingly from the other side of the garden.

If she were still capable of blushing, Alice would be beet red by now. It's no secret that the kind of party Rosalie is referring to is an orgy, which had been all but outlawed at the time of their meeting. Alice has never been one to shy away from adventure. Our sire ran into her at a party in early-Augustan Rome, and Alice, always eager for new experiences – and stoned out of her mind on Macedonian hemp – practically begged her to take her.

Rosalie hugs me to her chest and greets me with a kiss to each cheek. When she pulls back, her mate appears from behind her. He exudes corporate America, now even more so than before his change.

He extends his hand to me.

"I don't believe we've officially met. I'm Emmett McCarty."

Foregoing the handshake, I pull him into an embrace.

"Don't be so formal. You're Rosalie's mate; that makes you family."

"Darling, these are my daughters, Isabella and Alice. They've been with me for the better part of the past two millennia."

Alice bounces forward, hugging Emmett in greeting.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Mother chose well," she teases, knowing our sire prefers to be referred to as our sister, even though she calls us her children. "Welcome to my fabulous home. I've made sure the guest rooms are ready for you. Now, let's go inside to settle in and talk business."

"What do we know of this mystery man?" Alice asks.

I repeat what I already told Rosalie and place Maggie's sketches on the table. The room falls silent, my companions taking in all the information.

"It's not much to go by…" Emmett offers hesitantly. "How do you intend to find him?"

"And what is this danger he's supposedly in?" Rosalie adds.

"I don't know. Maggie couldn't see that. I guess we'll have to wait and see."

"I have an idea of how to find him," Alice pipes up, and we all turn to listen to her. "If this is roughly where he lives," she says, indicating on the map. "The best place to start is there. Why don't we check out the local nightlife? We can always expand our search after that."

We all nod our agreement to her suggestion.

o.O.o

The following evening, nine o'clock on the dot, the buzzer rings, alerting us to a car at the gate. When Alice called one of her sorority sisters for recommendations, the girl had immediately invited herself and another girl along on our night out. I am curious to see what kind of girls my sister surrounds herself with these days.

"We're here!" a sing-song voice calls through the receiver, as clear to us as if they were in the same room with us.

After pushing the button to let them onto the grounds, Alice turns to us.

"Just remember that they're not as worldly and experienced as we are. If you look past that, they're really fun to hang out with."

"Of course," Rosalie promises. "When have we ever been prejudiced? We'll be on our best behavior."

There is no time for any more comments because a bright red sports convertible pulls up with two girls inside, bobbing along to an upbeat pop song that's been on repeat on radio stations. They cut the engine and walk up to the front door. Cheerful voices precede their entrance into the living room, then fall silent as their eyes fall on us. Alice walks around them, motioning a hand to us.

"Girls, these are my… cousins."

We figured it would raise fewer questions if we would introduce ourselves as cousins; it allows us to be close but explains our differences in appearance.

"Izzy, Rose, and her husband, Emmett," Alice continues, indicating us one by one.

"Hi! I'm Jessica, and this is Lauren," the shortest of the two says with a wave. "Wow, you're all so gorgeous! Must be some gene pool…"

"So, do you go to school here?" Lauren asks politely. "I haven't seen you around, I don't think."

"No, we're just visiting," Rosalie answers. "Emmett and I actually just got back from our honeymoon and decided to spend a few days here on the way home."

"And I go to school in the Netherlands," I pipe up.

"That's awesome!" both girls exclaim.

"I spent a summer in Europe right after high school," Jessica continues. "It was fabulous. Especially the men. They all have these sexy accents…"

During her friends' babbling, Alice has poured us all some more wine, and she proposes a toast to a fun night out. That is all this will be for the sorority girls, but the rest of us know there is more at stake. I have less than two months to not only find this man but also save him from whatever is threatening him.

o.O.o

About an hour later, we park near the pier and head to the first bar of the night – a sports bar filled mainly with men in suits, obviously having come in after work. The human girls' reactions to them are almost comical to observe. Lauren dramatically fans herself while pointing out several candidates who are as of yet still unaware they will be competing to become further acquainted with her. Jessica, on the other hand, acts blasé about the abundance of suited men, stating that she wants to 'sample the menu before settling on the parent-approved suitor'.

As it turns out, the girls know one of the servers, and he directs us to a table overlooking both the bar and its patio. It doesn't escape my notice that his eyes linger on Jessica and that she gazes hungrily after him, so I nudge her with my elbow.

"Sampled him yet?" I wink at her, to which she bites her lip before nodding infinitesimally. "Then what's stopping you from a repeat performance?"

"He's the brother of a Delta, which makes him off limits," she whispers.

Her human friend is oblivious to our exchange, but Alice has heard it and engages her in encouraging conversation. I take the opportunity to survey my surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of something to spark recognition. However, all I see are clean-cut men with neatly styled hair, not a hint of scruffiness or tattoos. When my eyes return to our table, Mike, as I have just learned from Alice's conversation with Jessica is the name of our server, places my glass of red wine in front of me. It's no Merlot or Pinot Noir, but in a sports bar, I am happy they at least have a house wine on their drink menu.

Being a table of mostly women garners us some attention, and several men send us drinks. I politely sip my wine as the sorority girls indulge in various mixed drinks, becoming ever more inebriated. Finishing her second glass of wine, Rosalie decides it's time to continue to the next location, as we will obviously not find who we are looking for here. Alice and Lauren have both provided their phone numbers to several men; the rest of our group has declined any advances, but I have it on good authority that Jessica has offered Mike a ride home after his shift.

"Where to next?" she asks.

"One of the waitresses told me there's a bar around the corner that's having a ladies' night bachelor auction," Rosalie informs us. "I figured we could check it out."

"Oh, ladies' night," Lauren cheers excitedly. "That means male strippers. I vote yes!"

Emmett proves to be a trooper and joins us, although he will most likely be one of the few men there. I brace myself for whatever is about to happen next, envisioning rowdy women waving one dollar bills at scantily clad men rolling their muscles and flexing their abs.

The truth is far from it. New Moon is more of a lounge bar, and even though the crowd is all female and there is a suspicious amount of pink fruity drinks being served, there are no half-naked men in sight so far. I do spy an all-male crew in tight black shirts flirting heavily with the eager patrons. We spot an empty table and start for it. Jessica maneuvers herself between the nearest woman and two chairs, staking our claim on the coveted spot near the small stage. Having three ancient creatures glare at the other women also helps to get rid of them. We sit down and are immediately greeted by a waiter, who introduces himself as Ben and promises to take good care of us tonight.

"Well, Ben," Rosalie says. "You could start by telling us about the auction tonight. And then we would like some drinks."

He is happy to oblige, and while we peruse the drink menu – on which I am glad to notice several wines are listed – he informs us that the bachelor auction is intended to raise money for a local charity. Ben doesn't keep us waiting for long, probably hoping for a large tip, and with a flourish, he presents us with four glasses of Shiraz and two elaborate cocktails, just in time for the auction.

After the first couple of men have been auctioned off to some rowdy women a few tables over, the MC introduces the next man who is up for auction.

"Some of you local ladies may already know our next bachelor, and if you don't, now is as good a chance as any. And why not do a good deed at the same time? This man has practically grown up in the water, and when he's not running his well-known surf shop, he can be found on one of his boards, watching the perfect set come in and catching the best wave out of it. In his downtime, he is a regular here at New Moon, not in the least because the owner happens to be his best friend. Ladies, it is with great pleasure that I bring you Edward Cullen!"

Cat calls and cheers erupt around the room at the mention of the name. They get louder as the man in question emerges from the backstage area. After a moment or two, he nervously glances around the room, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. When his gaze lands on me, I am dumbstruck. Even in the relative darkness of the club, my vampire vision allows me to appreciate the exact shade of jade green of his eyes. These are the eyes I have been looking for, though no drawing could do them justice. I am drawn in by them, and everything around me falls away as we keep looking into each other's eyes.

He is tall, around six feet, and slender. I can tell he's uncomfortable by the way he fidgets and keeps wetting his lips as the MC prattles on about his qualities, selling him to the highest bidder. Suddenly, I know I have to be that highest bidder, and not taking my eyes off him, I raise my hand.

"Two thousand!"

The girls at my table gasp, Edward's eyes widen in shock, and I hear a muttered "bitch" from somewhere across the room. The MC is the first to regain his composure and stammers if anyone wants to challenge my offer. Apparently, I just raised the stakes from a few hundred dollars into the thousands, and the women gathered aren't willing or able to fork over that large a sum for a date. All the better for me, and with a few words from the MC, the deal is done, and Edward is handed off to me.

He descends the stage, moves around a few tables, and then he is standing in front of me, holding out his hand.

"Hey, I'm Edward," he says.

"Izzy," I reply, taking his hand.

His eyes captivate me, but it's this first innocent touch that tethers me to him, making it almost impossible to break the handshake. Being this close to him, I can see his pupils dilate and the slight increase of his breaths. It could be the after-effects of having been in the spotlight before, but dare I hope he feels the same shift in atmosphere as I do? It's like the world around us is muted and slowed down, the only things registering the rapid beating of his heart, the feel of his hand in mine, and his scent of salt and cocoa butter. With it comes a sense of belonging I have never felt before.

"Do I know you?" he asks.

"I doubt it," I say. "I haven't been here in years."

Blindly, I reach for my glass to take a sip, and his eyes zero in on my lips when I lick them. He swallows, and I am irrationally fascinated by the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat. A brief thought flickers through my head, wondering how his taste would feel on my tongue, but I am quick to brush it aside, knowing I cannot, and will not, think of him as a meal, or even a snack. The few words we have exchanged have already been enough to confirm at least one detail of the oracle: this man is destined for me. I will just have to figure out to what extent exactly, but I have a feeling it may run deep.

Rosalie calls my attention, and I reluctantly pull my eyes away from the man in front of me to meet her concerned ones. She quirks an eyebrow knowingly as she whispers a warning, too low for the humans around us to hear.

"Be careful, child. You are drawing attention to us with the intensity between you."

Edward seems to have taken the momentary distraction to collect his thoughts, and he clears his throat. Unable to ignore him, I snap my gaze back to him.

"Would tomorrow morning at eight work for you?" he asks.

At some point, I must have missed part of the conversation because I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about. My confusion must be written on my face because he elaborates.

"I own a surf shop down the street, and part of your date with me is a private surf lesson. There's a decent swell coming in tomorrow, so we could meet at eight and try to catch a few waves before lunch. Have you surfed before?"

Though I have tried many things, surfing isn't one of them, and I shake my head as I smile.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention when they said that."

"You're telling me you paid two thousand dollars for a date with me without knowing any of the fine print?" He laughs, and I'm glad he seems to feel at ease enough to bring some banter to the table.

"Guilty as charged. I just had this feeling I had to get to know you…" I trail off, not feeling too comfortable discussing this already, and in this setting. "Anyway, I haven't surfed before, and I don't have a wetsuit, but I'm sure you're an amazing teacher, and eight is fine. Where do I meet you?"

He asks for a pen and scribbles something on a napkin, handing it to me.

"That's the name and address of my shop. And my number, in case you have trouble finding it."

He grins nervously, and I hurry to answer with a smile of my own. Our fingers brush against the other's as the napkin moves from his hand to mine, reigniting the exciting spark I felt at the first touch.

I am itching to prolong the contact, to talk to him some more, but a high-pitched voice angrily calls his name, and his posture stiffens. The girl the voice belongs to calls out to him again, and he motions to her that he's coming. I don't even bother to acknowledge her because whoever she is, she is inconsequential to my mission. He looks back at me apologetically.

"I have to go. See you tomorrow?"

I nod, carefully placing the napkin with his details in my purse.

"I'll get Ben to refill your drinks, on me. Have fun tonight, and I'll see you tomorrow," he repeats.

I follow his form as it moves across the club to where a short strawberry blonde in high heels is waiting for him impatiently. She looks like the epitome of Hollywood artificiality, and I wonder who she is to him. She catches him looking over his shoulder back at me and casts me a withering glare. The fiery orange glimmer in her eyes as she does so solidifies my intentions for the remainder of the night. The girl is a fellow witch, and she is using a lot of energy to keep a spell in place.