1 3 . KILLER
IF IT WAS ANYONE BUT JACOB, I THOUGHT TO MYSELF, shaking my head as I drove down the forest-lined highway to La Push.
I still wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing, but I'd made a compromise with myself.
I couldn't condone what Jacob and his friends, his pack, were doing. I understood now what he'd said last night—that I might not want to see him again—and I could have called him as he'd suggested, but that felt cowardly. I owed him a face-to-face conversation, at least. I would tell him to his face that I couldn't just overlook what was going on. I couldn't be friends with a killer and say nothing, let the killing continue… That would make me a monster, too.
But I couldn't not warn him, either. I had to do what I could to protect him.
I pulled up to the Blacks' house with my lips pressed together into a hard line. It was bad enough that my best friend was a werewolf. Did he have to be a monster, too?
The house was dark, no lights in the windows, but I didn't care if I woke them. My fist thudded against the front door with angry energy; the sound reverberated through the walls.
"Come in," I heard Billy call after a minute, and a light flicked on.
I twisted the knob; it was unlocked. Billy was leaning around an open doorway just off the little kitchen, a bathrobe around his shoulders, not in his chair yet. When he saw who it was, his eyes widened briefly,and then his face turned stoic.
"Well, good morning, Bella. What are you doing up so early?"
"Hey, Billy. I need to talk to Jake—where is he?"
"Um… I don't really know," he lied, straight-faced.
"Do you know what Charlie is doing this morning?" I demanded, sick of the stalling.
"Should I?"
"He and half the other men in town are all out in the woods with guns, hunting giant wolves."
Billy's expression flickered, and then went blank.
"So I'd like to talk to Jake about that, if you don't mind," I continued.
Billy pursed his thick lips for a long moment. "I'd bet he's still asleep," he finally said, nodding toward the tiny hallway off the front room. "He's out late a lot these days. Kid needs his rest—probably you shouldn't wake him."
"It's my turn," I muttered under my breath as I stalked to the hallway. Billy sighed.
Jacob's tiny closet of a room was the only door in the yard-long hallway. I didn't bother to knock. I threw the door open; it slammed against the wall with a bang.
Jacob—still wearing just the same black cut-off sweats he'd worn last night—was stretched diagonally across the double bed that took up all of his room but a few inches around the edges. Even on a slant, it wasn't long enough; his feet hung off the one end and his head off the other. He was fast asleep, snoring lightly with his mouth hanging open. The sound of the door hadn't even made him twitch.
His face was peaceful with (deep sleep, all the angry lines smoothed out. There were circles under his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. Despite his ridiculous size, he looked very young now, and very weary.
Pity shook me.
I stepped back out, and shut the door quietly behind me.
Billy stared with curious, guarded eyes as I walked slowly back into the front room.
"I think I'll let him get some rest."
Billy nodded, and then we gazed at each other for a minute. I was dying to ask him about his part in this.
What did he think of what his son had become? But I knew how he'd supported Sam from the very beginning, and so I supposed the murders must not bother him. How he justified that to himself I couldn't imagine. I could see many questions for me in his dark eyes, but he didn't voice them either.
"Look," I said, breaking the loud silence. "I'll be down at the beach for a while. When he wakes up, tell him I'm waiting for him, okay?"
"Sure, sure," Billy agreed.
I wondered if he really would. Well, if he didn't, I'd tried, right?
I drove down to First Beach and parked in the empty dirt lot. It was still dark—the gloomy predawn of a cloudy day—and when I cut the headlights it was hard to see. I had to let my eyes adjust before I could find the path that led through the tall hedge of weeds. It was colder here, with the wind whipping off the black water, and I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my winter jacket. At least the rain had stopped.
I paced down the beach toward the north seawall. I couldn't see St. James or the other islands, just the vague shape of the water's edge. I picked my way carefully across the rocks, watching out for driftwood that might trip me.
I found what I was looking for before I realized I was looking for it. It materialized out of the gloom when it was just a few feet away: a long bone-white driftwood tree stranded deep on the rocks. The roots twisted up at the seaward end, like a hundred brittle tentacles. I couldn't be sure that it was the same tree where Jacob and I had had our first conversation—a conversation that had begun so many different, tangled threads of my life—but it seemed to be in about the same place I sat down where I'd sat before, and stared out across the invisible sea.
Seeing Jacob like that—innocent and vulnerable in sleep—had stolen all my revulsion, dissolved all my anger. I still couldn't turn a blind sye to what was happening, like Billy seemed to, but I couldn't condemn Jacob for it either. Love didn't work that way, I decided. Once you cared about a person, it was impossible to be logical about them anymore. Jacob was my friend whether he killed people or not. And I didn't know what I was going to do about that.
When I pictured him sleeping so peacefully, I felt an overpowering urge to protect him. Completely illogical.
Illogical or not, I brooded over the memory his peaceful face, trying to come up with some answer, some way to shelter him, while the sky slowly turned gray.
"Hi, Bella."
Jacob's voice came from the darkness and made me jump. It was soft, almost shy, but I'd been expecting some forewarning from the noisy rocks, and so it still startled me. I could see his silhouette against the coming sunrise—it looked enormous.
"Jake?"
He stood several paces away, shifting his weight from foot to foot anxiously.
"Billy told me you came by—didn't take you very long, did it? I knew you could figure it out."
"Yeah, I remember the right story now," I whispered.
It was quiet for a long moment and, though it was still too dark to see well, my skin prickled as if his eyes were searching my face. There must have been enough light for him to read my expression, because when he spoke again, his voice was suddenly acidic.
"You could have just called," he said harshly.
I nodded. "I know."
Jacob started pacing along the rocks. If I listened very hard, I could just hear the gentle brush of his feet on the rocks behind the sound of the waves. The rocks had clattered like castanets for me.
"Why did you come?" he demanded, not halting his angry stride.
"I thought it would be better face-to-face."
He snorted. "Oh, much better."
"Jacob, I have to warn you—"
"About the rangers and the hunters? Don't worry about it. We already know."
"Don't worry about it?" I demanded in disbelief. "Jake, they've got guns! They're setting traps and offering rewards and—
"We can take care of ourselves," he growled, still pacing. "They're not going to catch anything. They're only making it more difficult—they'll start disappearing soon enough, too."
"Jake!" I hissed.
"What? It's just a fact."
My voice was pale with revulsion. "How can you… feel that way? You know these people.
Charlie's out there!" The thought made my stomach twist.
He came to an abrupt stop. "What more can we do?" he retorted.
The sun turned the clouds a slivery pink above us. I could see his expression now; it was angry,
frustrated, betrayed.
"Could you… well, try to not be a… werewolf?" I suggested in a whisper.
He threw his hands up in the air. "Like I have a choice about it!" he shouted. "And how would that help anything, if you're worried about people disappearing?"
"I don't understand you."
He glared at me, his eyes narrowing and his mouth twisting into a snarl. "You know what makes me so mad I could just spit?"
I flinched away from his hostile expression. He seemed to be waiting for an answer, so I shook my head.
"You're such a hypocrite, Bella—there you sit, terrified of me! How is that fair?" His hands shook with anger.
"Hypocrite? How does being afraid of a monster make me a hypocrite?"
"Ugh!" he groaned, pressing his trembling fists to his temples and squeezing his eyes shut.
"Would you listen to yourself?"
"What?"
He took two steps toward me, leaning over me and glaring with fury. "Well, I'm so sorry that I can't be the right kind of monster for you, Bella. I guess I'm just not as great as a bloodsucker, am I?"
I jumped to my feet and glared back. "No, you're not!" I shouted. "It's not what you are, stupid, it's what you do!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" He roared, his entire frame quivering with rage.
I was taken entirely by surprise when Edward's voice cautioned me. "Be very careful, Bella," his velvet voice warned. "Don't push him too far. You need to calm him down."
Even the voice in my head was making no sense today.
I listened to him, though. I would do anything for that voice.
"Jacob," I pleaded, making my tone soft and even. "Is it really necessary to kill people, Jacob? Isn't there some other way? I mean, if vampires can find a way to survive without murdering people, couldn't you give it a try, too?"
He straightened up with a jerk, like my words had sent an electric shock through him. His eyebrows shot up and his eyes stared wide.
"Killing people?" he demanded.
"What did you think we were talking about?"
He wasn't trembling anymore. He looked at me with half-hopeful disbelief. "I thought we were talking about your disgust for werewolves."
"No, Jake, no. It's not that you're a… wolf. That's fine," I promised him, and I knew as I said the words that I meant them. I really didn't care if he turned into a big wolf—he was still Jacob. "If you could just find a way not to hurt people… that's all that upsets me. These ate innocent people, Jake, people like Charlie, and I can't just look the other way while you—"
"Is that all? Really?" he interrupted me, a smile breaking across his face. "You're just scared because I'm a murderer? That's the only reason?"
"Isn't that reason enough?"
He started to laugh.
"Jacob Black, this is so not funny!"
"Sure, sure," he agreed, still chortling.
He took one long stride and caught me in another vice-tight bear hug.
"You really, honestly don't mind that I morph into a giant dog?" he asked, his voice joyful in my ear.
"No," I gasped. "Can't—breathe—Jake!"
He let me go, but took both my hands. "I'm not a killer, Bella."
I studied his face, and it was clear that this was the truth. Relief pulsed through me.
"Really?" I asked.
"Really," he promised solemnly.
I threw my arms around him. It reminded me of that first day with the motorcycles—he was bigger, though, and I felt even more like a child now.
Like that other time, he stroked my hair.
"Sorry I called you a hypocrite," he apologized.
"Sorry I called you a murderer."
He laughed.
I thought of something then, and pulled away from him so that I could see his face. My eyebrows
furrowed in anxiety. "What about Sam? And the others?"
He shook his head, smiling like a huge burden had been removed from his shoulders. "Of course not.
Don't you remember what we call ourselves?"
The memory was clear—I'd just been thinking of that very day. "Protectors?"
"Exactly."
"But I don't understand. What's happening in the woods? The missing hikers, the blood?"
His face was serious, worried at once. "We're trying to do our job, Bella. We're trying to protect them, but we're always just a little too late."
"Protect them from what? Is there really a bear out there, too?"
"Bella, honey, we only protect people from one thing—our one enemy. It's the reason we exist—because they do."
I stared at him blankly for one second before I understood. Then the blood drained from my face and a thin, wordless cry of horror broke through my lips.
He nodded. "I thought you, of all people, would reali2e what was really going on."
"Laurent," I whispered. "He's still here."
Jacob blinked twice, and cocked his head to one side. "Who's Laurent?"
I tried to sort out the chaos in my head so that I could answer. "You know—you saw him in the
meadow. You were there…" The words came out in a wondering tone as it all sunk in. "You were there, and you kept him from killing me…"
"Oh, the black-haired leech?" He grinned, a tight, fierce grin. "Was that his name?"
I shuddered. "What were you thinking?" I whispered. "He could have killed you! Jake, you don't realize how dangerous—"
Another laugh interrupted me "Bella, one lone vampire isn't much of a problem for a pack as big as ours.
It was so easy, it was hardly even fun!"
"What was so easy?"
"Killing the bloodsucker who was going to kill you. Now, I don't count that towards the whole murder thing," he added quickly. "Vampires don't count as people."
I could only mouth the words. "You… killed… Laurent?"
He nodded. "Well, it was a group effort," he qualified.
"Laurent is dead?" I whispered.
His expression changed. "You're not upset about that, are you? He was going to kill you—he was going for the kill, Bella, we were sure of that before we attacked. You know that, right?"
"I know that. No, I'm not upset—I'm…" I had to sit down. I stumbled back a step until I felt the
driftwood against my calves, and then sank down onto it. "Laurent is dead. He's not coming back for me."
"You're not mad? He wasn't one of your friends or anything, was he?"
"My friend?" I stared up at him, confused and dizzy with relief. I started babbling, my eyes getting moist.
"No, Jake. I'm so… so relieved. I thought he was going to find me—I've been waiting for him every night, just hoping that he'd stop with me and leave Charlie alone. I've been so frightened, Jacob… But how? He was a vampire! How did you kill him? He was so strong, so hard, like marble…"
He sat down next to me and put one big arm around me comfortingly. "It's what we're made for, Bells.
We're strong, too. I wish you would have told me that you were so afraid. You didn't need to be."
"You weren't around," I mumbled, lost in thought.
"Oh, right."
"Wait, Jake—I thought you knew, though. Last night, you said it wasn't safe for you to be in my room. I thought you knew that a vampire might be coming. Isn't that what you were talking about?"
He looked confused for a minute, and then he ducked his head. "No, that's not what I meant."
"Then why didn't you think it was safe for you there?"
He looked at me with guilt-ridden eyes. "I didn't say it wasn't safe for me. I was thinking of you."
"What do you mean?"
He looked down and kicked a rock. "There's more than one reason I'm not supposed to be around you, Bella. I wasn't supposed to tell you our secret, for one thing, but the other part is that it's not safe for you.
If I get too mad… too upset… you might get hurt."
I thought about that carefully. "When you were mad before… when I was yelling at you… and you were shaking… ?"
"Yeah." His face dropped even lower. "That was pretty stupid of me. I have to keep a better hold on myself. I swore I wasn't going to get mad, no matter what you said to me. But… I just got so upset that was going to lose you… that you couldn't deal with what I am…"
"What would happen… if you got too mad?" I whispered.
"I'd turn into a wolf," he whispered back.
"You don't need a full moon."
He rolled his eyes. "Hollywood's version doesn't get much right." Then he sighed, and was serious again.
"You don't need to be so stressed out, Bells. We're going to take care of this. And we're keeping a
special eye on Charlie and the others—we won't let anything happen to him. Trust me on that."
Something very, very obvious, something I should have grasped at once—but I'd been so distracted by the idea of Jacob and his friends fighting with Laurent, that I'd completely missed it at the time—occurred to me only then, when Jacob used the present tense again.
We're going to take care of this.
It wasn't over.
"Laurent is dead," I gasped, and my entire body went ice cold.
"Bella?" Jacob asked anxiously, touching my ashen cheek.
"If Laurent died… a week ago… then someone else is killing people now."
Jacob nodded; his teeth clenched together, and he spoke through them. "There were two of them. We thought his mate would want to fight us—in our stories, they usually get pretty pissed off if you kill their mate—but she just keeps running away, and then coming back again. If we could figure out what she was after, it would be easier to take her down. But she makes no sense. She keeps dancing around the edges, like she's testing our defenses, looking for a way in—but in where? Where does she want to go?
Sam thinks she's trying to separate us, so she'll have a better chance…"
His voice faded until it sounded like it was coming through a long tunnel; I couldn't make out the
individual words anymore. My forehead dewed with sweat and my stomach rolled like I had the stomach flu again. Exactly like I had the flu.
I turned away from him quickly, and leaned over the tree trunk. My body convulsed with useless heaves, my empty stomach contracting with horrified nausea, though there was nothing in it to expel.
Victoria was here. Looking for me. Killing strangers in the woods. The woods where Charlie was
searching…
My head spun sickeningly.
Jacob's hands caught my shoulders—kept me from sliding forward onto the rocks. I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. "Bella! What's wrong?"
"Victoria," I gasped as soon as I could catch my breath around the nauseous spasms.
In my head, Edward snarled in fury at the name.
I felt Jacob pull me up from my slump. He draped me awkwardly across his lap, laying my limp head against his shoulder. He struggled to balance me, to keep me from sagging over, one way or the other He brushed the sweaty hair back from my face.
"Who?" Jacob asked. "Can you hear me, Bella? Bella?"
"She wasn't Laurent's mate," I moaned into his shoulder. "They were just old friends…"
"Do you need some water? A doctor? Tell me what to do," he demanded, frantic.
"I'm not sick—I'm scared," I explained in a whisper. The word scared didn't really seem to cover it.
Jacob patted my back. "Scaled of this Victoria?" I nodded, shuddering. "Victoria is the red-haired
female?" I trembled again, and whimpered, "Yes."
"How do you know she wasn't his mate?"
"Laurent told me James was her mate," I explained, automatically flexing the hand with the scar.
He pulled my face around, holding it steady in his big hand. He stared intently into my eyes. "Did he tell you anything else, Bella? This is important. Do you know what she wants?"
"Of course," I whispered. "She wants me." His eyes flipped wide, then narrowed into slits. "Why?" he demanded.
"Edward killed James," I whispered. Jacob held me so tightly that there was no need for me to clutch at the hole—he kept me in one piece. "She did get… pissed off. But Laurent said she thought it was fairer to kill me than Edward. Mate for mate. She didn't know—still doesn't know, I guess—that… that…" I swallowed hard. "That things aren't like that with us anymore. Not for Edward, anyway."
Jacob was distracted by that, his face torn between several different expressions. "Is that what
happened? Why the Cullens left?"
"I'm nothing but a human, after all. Nothing special," I explained, shrugging weakly.
Something like a growl—not a real growl, just a human approximation—rumbled in Jacob's chest under my ear. "If that idiot bloodsucker is honestly stupid enough—"
"Please," I moaned. "Please. Don't."
Jacob hesitated, then nodded once.
"This is important," he said again, his face all business now. "This is exactly what we needed to know.We've got to tell the others right away."
He stood, pulling me to my feet. He kept two hands on my waist until he was sure I wasn't going to fall.
"I'm okay," I lied.
He traded his hold on my waist for one of my hands. "Let's go."
He pulled me back toward the truck.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"I'm not sure yet," he admitted. "I'll call a meeting. Hey, wait here for just a minute, okay?" He leaned me against the side of the truck and released my hand.
"Where are you going?"
"I'll be right back," he promised. Then he turned and sprinted through the parking lot, across the road, and into the bordering forest. He flitted into the trees, swift and sleek as a deer.
"Jacob!" I yelled after him hoarsely, but he was already gone.
It was not a good time to be left alone. Seconds after Jacob was out of sight, I was hyperventilating. I dragged myself into the cab of the truck, and mashed the locks down at once. It didn't make me feel any better.
Victoria was already hunting me. It was just luck that she hadn't found me yet—just luck and five teenage werewolves. I exhaled sharply. No matter what Jacob said, the thought of him coming anywhere close Victoria was horrifying. I didn't care what he could turn into when he got mad. I could see her in my head, her face wild, her hair like flames, deadly, indestructible…
But, according to Jacob, Laurent was gone. Was that really possible? Edward—I clutched automatically at my chest—had told me how difficult it was to kill a vampire. Only another vampire could do the job.
Yet Jake said this was what werewolves were made for…
He said they were keeping a special eye on Charlie—that I should trust the werewolves to keep my father safe. How could I trust that? None of us were safe! Jacob the very least of all, if he was trying to put himself between Victoria and Charlie… between Victoria and me.
I felt like I might be about to throw up again.
A sharp rap on the truck's window made me yelp in terror—but it was just Jacob, back already. I
unlocked the door with trembling, grateful fingers.
"You're really scared, aren't you?" he asked as he climbed in.
I nodded.
"Don't be. We'll take care of you—and Charlie, too. I promise."
"The idea of you finding Victoria is scarier than the idea of her finding me," I whispered.
He laughed. "You've got to have a little more confidence in us than that. It's insulting."
I just shook my head. I'd seen too many vampires in action.
"Where did you go just now?" I asked.
He pursed his lips, and said nothing.
"What? Is it a secret?"
He frowned. "Not really. It's kind of weird, though. I don't want to freak you out."
"I'm sort of used to weird by this point, you know." I tried to smile without much success.
Jacob grinned back easily. "Guess you'd have to be. Okay. See, when we're wolves, we can… hear each other."
My eyebrows pulled down in confusion.
"Not hear sounds," he went on, "but we can hear… thoughts—each other's anyway—no matter how far away from each other we are. It really helps when we hunt, but it's a big pain otherwise. It's embarrassing—having no secrets like that. Freaky, eh?"
"Is that what you meant last night, when you said you would tell them you'd seen me, even though you didn't want to?"
"You're quick."
"Thanks."
"You're also very good with weird. I thought that would bother you."
"It's not… well, you're not the first person I've known who could do that. So it doesn't seem so weird to me."
"Really?… Wait—are you talking about your bloodsuckers?"
"I wish you wouldn't call them that."
He laughed. "Whatever. The Cullens, then?"
"Just… just Edward." I pulled one arm surreptitiously around my torso.
Jacob looked surprised—unpleasantly so. "I thought those were just stories. I've heard legends about vampires who could do… extra stuff, but I thought that was just a myth."
"Is anything just a myth anymore?" I asked him wryly.
He scowled. "Guess not. Okay, we're going to meet Sam and the others at the place we go to ride our bikes."
I started the truck and headed back up the road.
"So did you just turn into a wolf now, to talk to Sam?" I asked, curious.
Jacob nodded, seeming embarrassed. "I kept it real short—I tried not to think about you so they
wouldn't know what was going on. I was afraid Sam would tell me I couldn't bring you."
"That wouldn't have stopped me." I couldn't get rid of my perception of Sam as the bad guy. My teeth clenched together whenever I heard his name.
"Well, it would have stopped me," Jacob said, morose now. "Remember how I couldn't finish my
sentences last night? How I couldn't just tell you the whole story?"
"Yeah. You looked like you were choking on something."
He chuckled darkly. "Close enough. Sam told me I couldn't tell you. He's… the head of the pack, you know. He's the Alpha. When he tells us to do something, or not to do something—when he really means it, well, we can't just ignore him."
"Weird," I muttered.
"Very," he agreed. "It's kind of a wolf thing."
"Huh" was the best response I could think of.
"Yeah, there's a load of stuff like that—wolf things. I'm still learning. I can't imagine what it was like for Sam, trying to deal with this alone. It sucks bad enough to go through it with a whole pack for support."
"Sam was alone?"
"Yeah." Jacob's voice lowered. "When I… changed, it was the most… horrible, the most terrifying
thing I've ever been through—worse than anything I could have imagined. But I wasn't alone—there were the voices there, in my head, telling me what had happened and what I had to do. That kept me from losing my mind, I think. But Sam…" He shook his head. "Sam had no help."
This was going to take some adjusting. When Jacob explained it like that, it was hard not to feel
compassion for Sam. I had to keep reminding myself that there was no reason to hate him anymore.
"Will they be angry that I'm with you?" I asked.
He made a face. "Probably."
"Maybe I shouldn't—"
"No, it's okay," he assured me. "You know a ton of things that can help us. It's not like you're just some ignorant human. You're like a… I don't know, spy or something. You've been behind enemy lines."
I frowned to myself. Was that what Jacob would want from me? Insider information to help them destroy their enemies? I wasn't a spy, though. I hadn't been collecting that kind of information. Already, his words made me feel like a traitor.
But I wanted him to stop Victoria, didn't I?
No.
I did want Victoria to be stopped, preferably before she tortured me to death or ran into Charlie or killed another stranger. I just didn't want Jacob to be the one to stop her, or rather to try. I didn't want Jacob within a hundred miles of her.
"Like the stuff about the mind-reading bloodsucker," he continued, oblivious to my reverie.
"That's the kind of thing we need to know about. That really sucks that those stories are true. It makes everything more complicated. Hey, do you think this Victoria can do anything special?"
"I don't think so," I hesitated, and then sighed. "He would have mentioned it."
"He? Oh, you mean Edward—oops, sorry. I forgot. You don't like to say his name. Or hear it."
I squeezed my midsection, trying to ignore the throbbing around the edges of my chest. "Not really, no."
"Sorry."
"How do you know me so well, Jacob? Sometimes it's like you can read my mind."
"Naw. I just pay attention."
We were on the little dirt road where Jacob had first taught me to ride the motorcycle.
"This good?" I asked.
"Sure, sure."
I pulled over and cut the engine.
"You're still pretty unhappy, aren't you?" he murmured.
I nodded, staring unseeingly into the gloomy forest.
"Did you ever think… that maybe… you're better off?"
I inhaled slowly, and then let my breath out. "No."
"'Cause he wasn't the best—"
"Please, Jacob," I interrupted, begging in a whisper. "Could we please not talk about this? I can't stand it."
"Okay." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I said anything."
"Don't feel bad. If things were different, it would be nice to finally be able to talk to someone about it."
He nodded. "Yeah, I had a hard time keeping a secret from you for two weeks. It must be hell to not be able to talk to anyone."
"Hell," I agreed.
Jacob sucked in a sharp breath. "They're here. Let's go."
"Are you sure?" I asked while he popped his door open. "Maybe I shouldn't be here."
"They'll deal with it," he said, and then he grinned. "Who's afraid of the big, bad wolf?"
"Ha ha," I said. But I got out of the truck, hurrying around the front end to stand close beside Jacob. I remembered only too clearly the giant monsters in the meadow. My hands were trembling like Jacob's had been before, but with fear rather than rage.
Jake took my hand and squeezed it. "Here we go."
Part 12: Intruder
12. INTRUDER
MY EYES FLEW WIDE OPEN WITH FRIGHT, THOUGH I WAS so exhausted and muddled that I was not yet positive whether I was awake or asleep.
Something scratched against my window again with the same thin, high-pitched sound.
Confused and clumsy with sleep, I stumbled out of my bed and to the window, blinking the lingering tears from my eyes on the way.
A huge, dark shape wobbled erratically on the other side of the glass, lurching toward me like it was going to smash right through. I staggered back, terrified, my throat closing around a scream.
Victoria.
She'd come for me.
I was dead.
Not Charlie, too!
I choked back the building scream. I would have to keep quiet through this. Somehow. I had to keep Charlie from coming to investigate…
And then a familiar, husky voice called from the dark shape.
"Bella!" it hissed. "Ouch! Damn it, open the window! OUCH!"
I needed two seconds to shake off the horror before I could move, but then I hurried to the window and shoved the glass out of the way. The clouds were dimly lit from behind, enough for me to make sense of the shapes.
"What are you doing?" I gasped.
Jacob was clinging precariously to the top of the spruce that grew in the middle of Charlie's little front yard. His weight had bowed the tree toward the house and he now swung—his legs dangling twenty feet above the ground—not a yard away from me. The thin branches at the tip of the tree scraped against the side of the house again with a grating squeal.
"I'm trying to keep"—he huffed, shifting his weight as the treetop bounced him—"my promise!"
I blinked my wet blurry eyes, suddenly sure that I was dreaming.
"When did you ever promise to kill yourself falling out of Charlie's tree?"
He snorted, unamused, swinging his legs to improve his balance. "Get out of the way," he ordered.
"What?"
He swung his legs again, backwards and forward, increasing his momentum. I realized what he was ttying to do.
"No, Jake!"
But I ducked to the side, aecause it was too late. With a grunt, he launched himself toward my open window.
Another scream built in my throat as I waited for him to fall to his death—or at least maim himself against the wooden siding. To my shock, he swung agilely into my room, landing on the balls of his feet with a low thud.
We both looked to the door automatically, holding our breath, waiting to see if the noise had woken Charlie. A short moment of silence passed, and then we heard the muffled sound of Charlie's snore.
A wide grin spread slowly across Jacob's face; he seemed extremely pleased with himself. It wasn't the grin that I knew and loved—it was a new grin, one that was a bitter mockery of his old sincerity, on the new face that belonged to Sam.
That was a bit much for me.
I'd cried myself to sleep over this boy. His harsh rejection had punched a painful new hole in what was left of my chest. He'd left a new nightmare behind him, like an infection in a sore—the insult after the injury. And now he was here in my room, smirking at me as if none of that had passed. Worse than that, even though his arrival had been noisy and awkward, it reminded me of when Edward used to sneak in through my window at night, and the reminder picked viciously at the unhealed wounds.
All of this, coupled with the fact that I was dog-tired, did not put me in a friendly mood.
"Get out!" I hissed, putting as much venom into the whisper as I could.
He blinked, his face going blank with surprise.
"No," he protested. "I came to apologize."
"I don't accept!"
I tried to shove him back out the window—after all, if this was a dream, it wouldn't really hurt him. It was useless, though. I didn't budge him an inch. I dropped my hands quickly, and stepped away from him.
He wasn't wearing a shirt, though the air blowing in the window was cold enough to make me shiver, and it made me uncomfortable to have my hands on his bare chest. His skin was burning hot, like his head had been the last time I'd touched him. Like he was still sick with the fever.
He didn't look sick. He looked huge. He leaned over me, so big that he blacked out the window,
tongue-tied by my furious reaction.
Suddenly, it was just more than I could handle—it felt as if all of my sleepless nights were crashing down on me en masse. I was so brutally tired that I thought I might collapse right there on the floor. I swayed unsteadily, and struggled to keep my eyes open.
"Bella?" Jacob whispered anxiously. He caught my elbow as I swayed again, and steered me back to the bed. My legs gave out when I reached the edge, and I plopped into a limp heap on the mattress.
"Hey, are you okay?" Jacob asked, worry creasing his forehead.
I looked up at him, the tears not yet dried on my cheeks. "Why in the world would I be okay, Jacob?"
Anguish replaced some of the bitterness in his face. "Right," he agreed, and took a deep breath.
"Crap. Well… I—I'm so sorry, Bella." The apology was sincere, no doubt about it, though there was still an angry twist to his features.
"Why did you come here? I don't want apologies from you, Jake."
"I know," he whispered. "But I couldn't leave things the way I did this afternoon. Thar was horrible. I'm sorry."
I shook my head wearily. "I don't understand anything."
"I know. I want to explain—" He broke off suddenly, his mouth open, almost like something had cut off his air. Then he sucked in a deep breath. "But I can't explain," he said, still angry. "I wish I could."
I let my head fall into my hands. My question came out muffled by my arm. "Why?"
He was quiet for a moment. I twisted my head to the side—too tired to hold it up—to see his expression.
It surprised me. His eyes were squinted, his teeth clenched, his forehead wrinkled in effort.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
He exhaled heavily, and I realized he'd been holding his breath, too. "I can't do it," he muttered,
frustrated.
"Do what?"
He ignored my question. "Look, Bella, haven't you ever had a secret that you couldn't tell anyone?"
He looked at me with knowing eyes, and my thoughts jumped immediately to the Cullens. I hoped my expression didn't look guilty.
"Something you felt like you had to keep from Charlie, from your mom… ?" he pressed.
"Something you won't even talk about with me? Not even now?"
I felt my eyes tighten. I didn't answer his question, though I knew he would take that as a confirmation.
"Can you understand that I might have the same kind of… situation?" He was struggling again, seeming to fight for the right words. "Sometimes, loyalty gets in the way of what you want to do. Sometimes, it's not your secret to tell."
So, I couldn't argue with that. He was exactly right—I had a secret that wasn't mine to tell, yet a secret I felt bound to protect. A secret that, suddenly, he seemed to know all about.
I still didn't see how it applied to him, or Sam, or Billy. What was it to them, now that the Cullens were gone?
"I don't know why you came here, Jacob, if you were just going to give me riddles instead of answers."
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "This is so frustrating."
We looked at each other for a long moment in the dark room, both our faces hopeless.
"The part that kills me," he said abruptly, "is that you already know. I already told yon everything!"
"What are you talking about?"
He sucked in a startled breath, and then leaned toward me, his face shifting from hopelessness to blazing intensity in a second. He stared fiercely into my eyes, and his voice was fast and eager. He spoke the words right into my face; his breath was as hot as his skin.
"I think I see a way to make this work out—because you know this, Bella! I can't tell you, but if you guessed it! That would let me right off the hook!"
"You want me to guess? Guess what?"
"My secret! You can do it—you know the answer!"
I blinked twice, trying to clear my head. I was so tired. Nothing he said made sense.
He took in my blank expression, and then his face tensed with effort again. "Hole on, let me see if I give you some help," he said. Whatever he was trying to do, it was so hard he was panting.
"Help?" I asked, trying to keep up. My lids wanted to slip closed, but I forced them open.
"Yeah," he said, breathing hard. "Like clues."
He took my face in his enormous, too-warm hands and held it just a few inches from his. He stared into my eyes while he whispered, as if to communicate something besides the words he spoke.
"Remember the first day we met—on the beach in La Push?"
"Of course I do."
"Tell me about it."
I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. "You asked about my truck…"
He nodded, urging me on.
"We talked about the Rabbit…"
"Keep going."
"We went for a walk down the beach…" My cheeks were growing warm under his palms as I
remembered, but he wouldn't notice, hot as his skin was. I'd asked him to walk with me, flirting ineptly but successfully, in order to pump him for information.
He was nodding, anxious for more.
My voice was nearly soundless. "You told me scary stories… Quileute legends."
He closed his eyes and opened them again. "Yes." The word was tense, fervent, like he was on the edge of something vital. He spoke slowly, making each word distinct. "Do you remember what I said?"
Even in the dark, he must be able to see the change in the color of my face. How could I ever forget that? Without realizing what he was doing, Jacob had told me exactly what I needed to know that day—that Edward was a vampire.
He looked at me with eyes that knew too much. "Think hard," he told me.
"Yes, I remember," I breathed.
He inhaled deeply, struggling. "Do you remember all the stor—" He couldn't finish the question. His mouth popped open like something had stuck in his throat.
"All the stories?" I asked.
He nodded mutely.
My head churned. Only one story really mattered. I knew he'd begun with others, but I couldn't
remember the inconsequential prelude, especially not while my brain was so clouded with exhaustion. I started to shake my head.
Jacob groaned and jumped off the bed. He pressed his fists against his forehead and breathed fast and angry. "You know this, you know this," he muttered to himself.
"Jake? Jake, please, I'm exhausted. I'm no good at this right now. Maybe in the morning…"
He took a steadying breath and nodded. "Maybe it will come back to you. I guess I understand why you only remember the one story," he added in a sarcastic, bitter tone. He plunked back onto the mattress beside me. "Do you mind if I ask you a question about that?" he asked, still sarcastic. "I've been dying ro know."
"A question about what?" I asked warily.
"About the vampire story I told you."
I stared at him with guarded eyes, unable to answer. He asked his question anyway.
"Did you honestly not know?" he asked me, his voice turning husky. "Was I the one who told you what he was?"
How did he know this? Why did he decide to believe, why now? My teeth clenched together. I stared back at him, no intention of speaking. He could see that.
"See what I mean about loyalty?" he murmured, even huskier now. "It's the same for me, only worse.
You can't imagine how tight I'm bound…"
I didn't like that—didn't like the way his eyes closed as if he were in pain when he spoke of being bound.
More than dislike—I realized I hated it, hated anything that caused him pain. Hated it fiercely.
Sam's face filled my mind.
For me, this was all essentially voluntary. I protected the Cullens' secret out of love; unrequited, but true.
For Jacob, it didn't seem to be that way.
"Isn't there any way for you to get free?" I whispered, touching the rough edge at the back of his shorn hair.
His hands began to tremble, but he didn't open his eyes. "No. I'm in this for life. A life sentence."
A bleak laugh. "Longer, maybe."
"No, Jake," I moaned. "What if we ran away? Just you and me. What if we left home, and left Sam behind?"
"It's not something I can run away from, Bella," he whispered. "I would run with you, though, if I could."
His shoulders were shaking now, too. He took a deep breath. "Look, I've got to leave."
"Why?"
"For one thing, you look like you're going to pass out at any second. You need your sleep—I need you firing on all pistons.
"And why else?"
He frowned. "I had to sneak out—I'm not supposed to see you. They've got to be wondering where I am." His mouth twisted. "I suppose I should go let them know."
"You don't have to tell them anything," I hissed.
"All the same, I will."
The anger flashed hot inside me. "I hate them!"
Jacob looked at me with wide eyes, surprised. "No, Bella. Don't hate the guys. It's not Sam's or any of the others' faults. I told you before—it's me. Sam is actually… well, incredibly cool. Jared and Paul are great, too, though Paul is kind of… And Embry's always been my friend. Nothing's changed there—the only thing that hasn't changed. I feel really bad abour the things I used to think about Sam…"
"Sam was incredibly cool." I glared at him in disbelief, but let it go.
"Then why aren't you supposed to see me?" I demanded.
"It's not safe," he mumbled looking down.
His words sent a thrill of fear through me.
Did he know that, too? Nobody knew that besides me. But he was right—it was the middle of the night, the perfect time for hunting. Jacob shouldn't be here in my room. If someone came for me, I had :o be alone.
"If I thought it was too… too risky," he whispered, "I wouldn't have come. But Bella," he looked at me again, "I made you a promise. I had no idea it would be so hard to keep, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try."
He saw the incomprehension in my face. "After that stupid movie," he reminded me. "I promised you that I wouldn't ever hurt you… So I really blew it this afternoon, didn't I?"
"I know you didn't want to do it, Jake. It's okay."
"Thanks, Bella." He took my hand. "I'm going to do what I can to be here for you, just like I promised."
He grinned at me suddenly. The grin was not mine, nor Sam's, but some strange combination of the two.
"It would really help if you could figure this out on your own, Bella. Put some honest effort into it."
I made a weak grimace. "I'll try."
"And I'll try to see you soon." He sighed. "And they'll try to talk me out of that."
"Don't listen to them."
"I'll try." He shook his head, as if he doubted his success. "Come and tell me as soon as you figure it out."
Something occurred to him just then, something that made his hands shake. "If you… if you want to."
"Why wouldn't I want to see you?"
His face turned hard and bitter, one hundred percent the face that belonged to Sam. "Oh, I can think of a reason," he said in a harsh tone. "Look, I really have to go. Could you do something for me?"ou're going to figure this out, you have to."
I just nodded, frightened of the change in him.
"At least call me—if you don't want to see me again. Let me know if it's like that."
"That won't happen—"
He raised one hand, cutting me off. "Just let me know."
He stood and headed for the window.
"Don't be an idiot, Jake," I complained. "You'll break your leg. Use the door. Charlie's not going to catch you."
"I won't get hurt," he muttered, but he turned for the door. He hesitated as he passed me, staring at me with an expression like something was stabbing him. He held one hand out, pleading.
I took his hand, and suddenly he yanked me—too roughly—right off the bed so that I thudded against his chest.
"Just in case," he muttered against my hair, crushing me in a bear hug that about broke my ribs.
"Can't—breathe!" I gasped.
He dropped me at once, keeping one hand at my waist so I didn't fall over. He pushed me, more gently this time, back down on the bed.
"Get some sleep, Bells. You've got to get your head working. I know you can do this. I need you. to understand. I won't lose you, Bella. Not for this."
He was to the door in one stride, opening it quietly, and then disappearing through it. I listened for him to hit the squeaky step in the stairs, but there was no sound.
I lay back on my bed, my head spinning. I was too confused, too worn out. I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of it, only to be swallowed up by unconsciousness so swiftly that it was disorienting.
It was not the peaceful, creamless sleep I'd yearned for—of course not. I was in the forest again, and I started to wander the way I always did.
I quickly became aware that this was not the same dream as usual. For one thing, I felt no compulsion to wander or to search; I was merely wandering out of habit, because that was what was usually expected of me here. Actually, this wasn't even the same forest. The smell was different, and the light, too. It smelled, not like the damp earth of the woods, but like the brine of the ocean. I couldn't see the sky; still, it seemed like the sun must be shining—the leaves above were bright jade green.
This was the forest around La Push—near the beach there, I was sure of it. I knew that if I found the beach, I would be able to see the sun, so I hurried forward, following the faint sound of waves in the distance.
And then Jacob was there. He grabbed my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest.
"Jacob, what's wrong?" I asked. His face was the frightened face of a boy, and his hair was beautiful again, swept back into a ponytail on the nape of his neck. He yanked with all his strength, but I resisted; I didn't want to go into the dark.
"Run, Bella, you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.
The abrupt wave of deja vu was so strong it nearly woke me up.
I knew why I recognized this place now. It was because I'd been here before, in another dream. A million years ago, part of a different life entirely. This was the dream I'd had the night after I'd walked with Jacob on the beach, the first night I knew that Edward was a vampire. Reliving that day with Jacob must have dredged this dream out of my buried memories.
Detached from the dream now, I waited for it to play out. A light was coming toward me from the beach.
In just a moment, Edward would walk through the trees, his skin faintly glowing and his eyes black and dangerous. He would beckon to me, and smile. He would be beautiful as an angel, and his teeth would be pointed and sharp…
But I was getting ahead of myself. Something else had to happen first.
dropped my hand and yelped. Shaking and twitching, he fell to the ground at my feet.
"Jacob!" I screamed, but he was gone.
In his place was an enormous, red-brown wolf with dark, intelligent eyes.
The dream veered off course, like a train jumping the tracks.
This was not the same wolf that I'd dreamed of in another life. This was the great russet wolf I'd stood half a foot from in the meadow, just a week ago. This wolf was gigantic, monstrous, bigger than a bear.
This wolf stared intently at me, trying to convey something vital with his intelligent eyes. The black-brown, familiar eyes of Jacob Black.
I woke screaming at the top of my lungs.
I almost expected Charlie to come check on me this time. This wasn't my usual screaming. I buried my head in my pillow and tried to muffle the hysterics that my screams were building into. J pressed the cotton tight against my face, wondering if I couldn't also somehow smother the connection I'd just made.
But Charlie didn't come in. and eventually I was able to strangle the strange screeching coming out of my throat.
I remembered it all now—every word that Jacob had said to me that day on the beach, even the part before he got to the vampires, the "cold ones." Especially that first part.
"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from—the Quileutes, I mean?" he
asked.
"Not really," I admitted.
"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood—supposedly,
the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive,
like Noah and the ark." He smiled then, to show me how little stock he put in the histories.
"Another legend claims that we descended from wolves—and that the wolves are our brothers
still. It's against tribal law to kill them.
"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped a little lower.
"The cold ones?"
"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent.
According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made
the treaty that kept them off our land." Jacob rolled his eyes.
" Your great-grandfather?"
"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf— well, not the wolf really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."
"Werewolves have enemies?"
"Only one."
There was something stuck in my throat, choking me. I tried to swallow it down, but it was lodged there, un-moving. I tried to spit it out.
"Werewolf," I gasped.
Yes, that was the word that I was choking on.
The whole world lurched, tilting the wrong way on its axis.
What kind of a place was this? Could a world really exist where ancient legends went wandering around the borders of tiny, insignificant towns, facing down mythical monsters? Did this mean every impossible fairy tale was grounded somewhere in absolute truth? Was there anything sane or normal at all, or was everything just magic and ghost stories?
I clutched my head in my hands, trying to keep it from exploding.
A small, dry voice in the back of my mind asked me what the big deal was. Hadn't I already accepted the existence of vampires long ago—and without all the hysterics that time?
Exactly, I wanted to scream back at the voice. Wasn't one myth enough for anyone, enough for a
lifetime? Besides, there'd never been one moment that I wasn't completely aware that Edward Cullen was above and beyond the ordinary. It wasn't such a surprise to find out what he was—because he so obviously was something.
But Jacob? Jacob, who was just Jacob, and nothing more than that? Jacob, my friend? Jacob, the only human I'd ever been able to relate to… And he wasn't even human.
I fought the urge to scream again.
What did this say about me?
I knew the answer to that one. It said that there was something deeply wrong with me. Why else would my life be filled with characters from horror movies? Why else would I care so much about them that it would tear big chunks right out of my chest when they went off along their mythical ways?
In my head, everything spun and shifted, rearranging so that things that had meant one thing before, now meant something else.
There was no cult. There had never been a cult, never been a gang. No, it was much worse than that. It was a pack. A pack of five mind-blowingly gigantic, multihued werewolves that had stalked right past me in Edward's meadow…
Suddenly, I was in a frantic hurry. I glanced at the clock—it was way too early and I didn't care. I had to go to La Push now. I had to see Jacob so he could tell me that I hadn't lost my mind altogether.
I pulled on the first clean clothes I could find, not bothering to be sure they matched, and took the stairs two at a time. I almost ran into Charlie as I skidded into the hallway, headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" he asked, as surprised to see me as I was to see him. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Yeah. I have to go see Jacob."
"I thought the thing with Sam—"
"That doesn't matter, I have to talk to him right now."
"It's pretty early." He frowned when my expression didn't change. "Don't you want breakfast?"
"Not hungry." The words flew through my lips. He was blocking my path to the exit. I considered ducking around him and making a run for it, but I knew I would have to explain that to him later. "I'll be back soon, okay?"
Charlie frowned. "Straight to Jacob's house, right? No stops on the way?"
"Of course not, where would I stop?" My words were running together in my hurry.
"I don't know," he admitted. "It's just… well, there's been another attack—the wolves again. It was real close to the resort by the hot springs—there's a witness this time. The victim was only a dozen yards from the road when he disappeared. His wife saw a huge gray wolf just a few minutes later, while she was searching for him, and ran for help."
My stomach dropped like I'd hit a corkscrew on a roller coaster. "A wolf attacked him?"
"There's no sign of him—just a little blood again." Charlie's face was pained. "The rangers are going out armed, taking armed volunteers. There're a lot of hunters who are eager to be involved—there's a reward being offered for wolf carcasses. That's going to mean a lot of firepower out there in the forest, and it worries me." He shook his head. "When people get too excited, accidents happen…"
"They're going to shoot the wolves?" My voice shot through three octaves.
"What else can we do? What's wrong?" he asked, his tense eyes studying my face. I felt faint; I must be whiter than usual. "You aren't turning into a tree-hugger on me, are you?"
I couldn't answer. If he hadn't been watching me, I would have put my head between my knees. I'd forgotten about the missing hikers, the bloody paw prints… I hadn't connected those facts to my first realization.
"Look, honey, don't let this scare you. Just stay in town or on the highway—no stops—okay?"
"Okay," I repeated in a weak voice.
"I've got to go."
I looked at him closely for the first time, and saw that he had his gun strapped to his waist and hiking boots on.
"You aren't going out there after the wolves, are you, Dad?"
"I've got to help, Bells. People are disappearing."
My voice shot up again, almost hysterical now. "No! No, don't go. It's too dangerous!"
"I've got to do my job, kid. Don't be such a pessimist—I'll be fine." He turned for the door, and held it open. "You leaving?"
I hesitated, my stomach still spinning in uncomfortable loops. What could I say to stop him? I was too dizzy to think of a solution.
"Bells?"
"Maybe it's too early to go to La Push," I whispered.
"I agree," he said, and he stepped out into the rain, shutting the door behind him.
As soon as he was out of sight, I dropped to the floor and put my head between my knees.
Should I go after Charlie? What would I say?
And what about Jacob? Jacob was my best friend; I needed to warn him. If he really was a—I cringed and forced myself to think the word—werewolf (and I knew it was true, I could feel it), then people would be shooting at him! I needed to tell him and his friends that people would try to kill them if they went running around like gigantic wolves. I needed to tell them to stop.
They had to stop! Charlie was out there in the woods. Would they care about that? I wondered…
Up until now, only strangers had disappeared. Did that mean anything, or was it just chance?
I needed to believe that Jacob, at least, would care about that.
Either way, I had to warn him.
Or… did I?
Jacob was my best friend, but was he a monster, too? A real one? A bad one? Should I warn him, if he and his friends were… were murderers! If they were out slaughtering innocent hikers in cold blood? If they were truly creatures from a horror movie in every sense, would it be wrong to protect them?
It was inevitable that I would have to compare Jacob and his friends to the Cullens. I wrapped my arms around my chest, fighting the hole, while I thought of them.
I didn't know anything about werewolves, clearly. I would have expected something closer to the movies—big hairy half-men creatures or something—if I'd expected anything at all. So I didn't know what made them hunt, whether hunger or thirst or just a desire to kill. It was hard to judge, not knowing that.
But it couldn't be worse than what the Cullens endured in their quest to be good. I thought of Esme—the tears started when I pictured her kind, lovely face—and how, as motherly and loving as she was, she'd had to hold her nose, all ashamed, and run from me when I was bleeding. It couldn't be harder than that.
I thought of Carlisle, the centuries upon centuries that he had struggled to teach himself to ignore blood, so that he could save lives as a doctor. Nothing could be harder than that.
The werewolves had chosen a different path.
Now, what should I choose?
MY EYES FLEW WIDE OPEN WITH FRIGHT, THOUGH I WAS so exhausted and muddled that I was not yet positive whether I was awake or asleep.
Something scratched against my window again with the same thin, high-pitched sound.
Confused and clumsy with sleep, I stumbled out of my bed and to the window, blinking the lingering tears from my eyes on the way.
A huge, dark shape wobbled erratically on the other side of the glass, lurching toward me like it was going to smash right through. I staggered back, terrified, my throat closing around a scream.
Victoria.
She'd come for me.
I was dead.
Not Charlie, too!
I choked back the building scream. I would have to keep quiet through this. Somehow. I had to keep Charlie from coming to investigate…
And then a familiar, husky voice called from the dark shape.
"Bella!" it hissed. "Ouch! Damn it, open the window! OUCH!"
I needed two seconds to shake off the horror before I could move, but then I hurried to the window and shoved the glass out of the way. The clouds were dimly lit from behind, enough for me to make sense of the shapes.
"What are you doing?" I gasped.
Jacob was clinging precariously to the top of the spruce that grew in the middle of Charlie's little front yard. His weight had bowed the tree toward the house and he now swung—his legs dangling twenty feet above the ground—not a yard away from me. The thin branches at the tip of the tree scraped against the side of the house again with a grating squeal.
"I'm trying to keep"—he huffed, shifting his weight as the treetop bounced him—"my promise!"
I blinked my wet blurry eyes, suddenly sure that I was dreaming.
"When did you ever promise to kill yourself falling out of Charlie's tree?"
He snorted, unamused, swinging his legs to improve his balance. "Get out of the way," he ordered.
"What?"
He swung his legs again, backwards and forward, increasing his momentum. I realized what he was ttying to do.
"No, Jake!"
But I ducked to the side, aecause it was too late. With a grunt, he launched himself toward my open window.
Another scream built in my throat as I waited for him to fall to his death—or at least maim himself against the wooden siding. To my shock, he swung agilely into my room, landing on the balls of his feet with a low thud.
We both looked to the door automatically, holding our breath, waiting to see if the noise had woken Charlie. A short moment of silence passed, and then we heard the muffled sound of Charlie's snore.
A wide grin spread slowly across Jacob's face; he seemed extremely pleased with himself. It wasn't the grin that I knew and loved—it was a new grin, one that was a bitter mockery of his old sincerity, on the new face that belonged to Sam.
That was a bit much for me.
I'd cried myself to sleep over this boy. His harsh rejection had punched a painful new hole in what was left of my chest. He'd left a new nightmare behind him, like an infection in a sore—the insult after the injury. And now he was here in my room, smirking at me as if none of that had passed. Worse than that, even though his arrival had been noisy and awkward, it reminded me of when Edward used to sneak in through my window at night, and the reminder picked viciously at the unhealed wounds.
All of this, coupled with the fact that I was dog-tired, did not put me in a friendly mood.
"Get out!" I hissed, putting as much venom into the whisper as I could.
He blinked, his face going blank with surprise.
"No," he protested. "I came to apologize."
"I don't accept!"
I tried to shove him back out the window—after all, if this was a dream, it wouldn't really hurt him. It was useless, though. I didn't budge him an inch. I dropped my hands quickly, and stepped away from him.
He wasn't wearing a shirt, though the air blowing in the window was cold enough to make me shiver, and it made me uncomfortable to have my hands on his bare chest. His skin was burning hot, like his head had been the last time I'd touched him. Like he was still sick with the fever.
He didn't look sick. He looked huge. He leaned over me, so big that he blacked out the window,
tongue-tied by my furious reaction.
Suddenly, it was just more than I could handle—it felt as if all of my sleepless nights were crashing down on me en masse. I was so brutally tired that I thought I might collapse right there on the floor. I swayed unsteadily, and struggled to keep my eyes open.
"Bella?" Jacob whispered anxiously. He caught my elbow as I swayed again, and steered me back to the bed. My legs gave out when I reached the edge, and I plopped into a limp heap on the mattress.
"Hey, are you okay?" Jacob asked, worry creasing his forehead.
I looked up at him, the tears not yet dried on my cheeks. "Why in the world would I be okay, Jacob?"
Anguish replaced some of the bitterness in his face. "Right," he agreed, and took a deep breath.
"Crap. Well… I—I'm so sorry, Bella." The apology was sincere, no doubt about it, though there was still an angry twist to his features.
"Why did you come here? I don't want apologies from you, Jake."
"I know," he whispered. "But I couldn't leave things the way I did this afternoon. Thar was horrible. I'm sorry."
I shook my head wearily. "I don't understand anything."
"I know. I want to explain—" He broke off suddenly, his mouth open, almost like something had cut off his air. Then he sucked in a deep breath. "But I can't explain," he said, still angry. "I wish I could."
I let my head fall into my hands. My question came out muffled by my arm. "Why?"
He was quiet for a moment. I twisted my head to the side—too tired to hold it up—to see his expression.
It surprised me. His eyes were squinted, his teeth clenched, his forehead wrinkled in effort.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
He exhaled heavily, and I realized he'd been holding his breath, too. "I can't do it," he muttered,
frustrated.
"Do what?"
He ignored my question. "Look, Bella, haven't you ever had a secret that you couldn't tell anyone?"
He looked at me with knowing eyes, and my thoughts jumped immediately to the Cullens. I hoped my expression didn't look guilty.
"Something you felt like you had to keep from Charlie, from your mom… ?" he pressed.
"Something you won't even talk about with me? Not even now?"
I felt my eyes tighten. I didn't answer his question, though I knew he would take that as a confirmation.
"Can you understand that I might have the same kind of… situation?" He was struggling again, seeming to fight for the right words. "Sometimes, loyalty gets in the way of what you want to do. Sometimes, it's not your secret to tell."
So, I couldn't argue with that. He was exactly right—I had a secret that wasn't mine to tell, yet a secret I felt bound to protect. A secret that, suddenly, he seemed to know all about.
I still didn't see how it applied to him, or Sam, or Billy. What was it to them, now that the Cullens were gone?
"I don't know why you came here, Jacob, if you were just going to give me riddles instead of answers."
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "This is so frustrating."
We looked at each other for a long moment in the dark room, both our faces hopeless.
"The part that kills me," he said abruptly, "is that you already know. I already told yon everything!"
"What are you talking about?"
He sucked in a startled breath, and then leaned toward me, his face shifting from hopelessness to blazing intensity in a second. He stared fiercely into my eyes, and his voice was fast and eager. He spoke the words right into my face; his breath was as hot as his skin.
"I think I see a way to make this work out—because you know this, Bella! I can't tell you, but if you guessed it! That would let me right off the hook!"
"You want me to guess? Guess what?"
"My secret! You can do it—you know the answer!"
I blinked twice, trying to clear my head. I was so tired. Nothing he said made sense.
He took in my blank expression, and then his face tensed with effort again. "Hole on, let me see if I give you some help," he said. Whatever he was trying to do, it was so hard he was panting.
"Help?" I asked, trying to keep up. My lids wanted to slip closed, but I forced them open.
"Yeah," he said, breathing hard. "Like clues."
He took my face in his enormous, too-warm hands and held it just a few inches from his. He stared into my eyes while he whispered, as if to communicate something besides the words he spoke.
"Remember the first day we met—on the beach in La Push?"
"Of course I do."
"Tell me about it."
I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. "You asked about my truck…"
He nodded, urging me on.
"We talked about the Rabbit…"
"Keep going."
"We went for a walk down the beach…" My cheeks were growing warm under his palms as I
remembered, but he wouldn't notice, hot as his skin was. I'd asked him to walk with me, flirting ineptly but successfully, in order to pump him for information.
He was nodding, anxious for more.
My voice was nearly soundless. "You told me scary stories… Quileute legends."
He closed his eyes and opened them again. "Yes." The word was tense, fervent, like he was on the edge of something vital. He spoke slowly, making each word distinct. "Do you remember what I said?"
Even in the dark, he must be able to see the change in the color of my face. How could I ever forget that? Without realizing what he was doing, Jacob had told me exactly what I needed to know that day—that Edward was a vampire.
He looked at me with eyes that knew too much. "Think hard," he told me.
"Yes, I remember," I breathed.
He inhaled deeply, struggling. "Do you remember all the stor—" He couldn't finish the question. His mouth popped open like something had stuck in his throat.
"All the stories?" I asked.
He nodded mutely.
My head churned. Only one story really mattered. I knew he'd begun with others, but I couldn't
remember the inconsequential prelude, especially not while my brain was so clouded with exhaustion. I started to shake my head.
Jacob groaned and jumped off the bed. He pressed his fists against his forehead and breathed fast and angry. "You know this, you know this," he muttered to himself.
"Jake? Jake, please, I'm exhausted. I'm no good at this right now. Maybe in the morning…"
He took a steadying breath and nodded. "Maybe it will come back to you. I guess I understand why you only remember the one story," he added in a sarcastic, bitter tone. He plunked back onto the mattress beside me. "Do you mind if I ask you a question about that?" he asked, still sarcastic. "I've been dying ro know."
"A question about what?" I asked warily.
"About the vampire story I told you."
I stared at him with guarded eyes, unable to answer. He asked his question anyway.
"Did you honestly not know?" he asked me, his voice turning husky. "Was I the one who told you what he was?"
How did he know this? Why did he decide to believe, why now? My teeth clenched together. I stared back at him, no intention of speaking. He could see that.
"See what I mean about loyalty?" he murmured, even huskier now. "It's the same for me, only worse.
You can't imagine how tight I'm bound…"
I didn't like that—didn't like the way his eyes closed as if he were in pain when he spoke of being bound.
More than dislike—I realized I hated it, hated anything that caused him pain. Hated it fiercely.
Sam's face filled my mind.
For me, this was all essentially voluntary. I protected the Cullens' secret out of love; unrequited, but true.
For Jacob, it didn't seem to be that way.
"Isn't there any way for you to get free?" I whispered, touching the rough edge at the back of his shorn hair.
His hands began to tremble, but he didn't open his eyes. "No. I'm in this for life. A life sentence."
A bleak laugh. "Longer, maybe."
"No, Jake," I moaned. "What if we ran away? Just you and me. What if we left home, and left Sam behind?"
"It's not something I can run away from, Bella," he whispered. "I would run with you, though, if I could."
His shoulders were shaking now, too. He took a deep breath. "Look, I've got to leave."
"Why?"
"For one thing, you look like you're going to pass out at any second. You need your sleep—I need you firing on all pistons.
"And why else?"
He frowned. "I had to sneak out—I'm not supposed to see you. They've got to be wondering where I am." His mouth twisted. "I suppose I should go let them know."
"You don't have to tell them anything," I hissed.
"All the same, I will."
The anger flashed hot inside me. "I hate them!"
Jacob looked at me with wide eyes, surprised. "No, Bella. Don't hate the guys. It's not Sam's or any of the others' faults. I told you before—it's me. Sam is actually… well, incredibly cool. Jared and Paul are great, too, though Paul is kind of… And Embry's always been my friend. Nothing's changed there—the only thing that hasn't changed. I feel really bad abour the things I used to think about Sam…"
"Sam was incredibly cool." I glared at him in disbelief, but let it go.
"Then why aren't you supposed to see me?" I demanded.
"It's not safe," he mumbled looking down.
His words sent a thrill of fear through me.
Did he know that, too? Nobody knew that besides me. But he was right—it was the middle of the night, the perfect time for hunting. Jacob shouldn't be here in my room. If someone came for me, I had :o be alone.
"If I thought it was too… too risky," he whispered, "I wouldn't have come. But Bella," he looked at me again, "I made you a promise. I had no idea it would be so hard to keep, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try."
He saw the incomprehension in my face. "After that stupid movie," he reminded me. "I promised you that I wouldn't ever hurt you… So I really blew it this afternoon, didn't I?"
"I know you didn't want to do it, Jake. It's okay."
"Thanks, Bella." He took my hand. "I'm going to do what I can to be here for you, just like I promised."
He grinned at me suddenly. The grin was not mine, nor Sam's, but some strange combination of the two.
"It would really help if you could figure this out on your own, Bella. Put some honest effort into it."
I made a weak grimace. "I'll try."
"And I'll try to see you soon." He sighed. "And they'll try to talk me out of that."
"Don't listen to them."
"I'll try." He shook his head, as if he doubted his success. "Come and tell me as soon as you figure it out."
Something occurred to him just then, something that made his hands shake. "If you… if you want to."
"Why wouldn't I want to see you?"
His face turned hard and bitter, one hundred percent the face that belonged to Sam. "Oh, I can think of a reason," he said in a harsh tone. "Look, I really have to go. Could you do something for me?"ou're going to figure this out, you have to."
I just nodded, frightened of the change in him.
"At least call me—if you don't want to see me again. Let me know if it's like that."
"That won't happen—"
He raised one hand, cutting me off. "Just let me know."
He stood and headed for the window.
"Don't be an idiot, Jake," I complained. "You'll break your leg. Use the door. Charlie's not going to catch you."
"I won't get hurt," he muttered, but he turned for the door. He hesitated as he passed me, staring at me with an expression like something was stabbing him. He held one hand out, pleading.
I took his hand, and suddenly he yanked me—too roughly—right off the bed so that I thudded against his chest.
"Just in case," he muttered against my hair, crushing me in a bear hug that about broke my ribs.
"Can't—breathe!" I gasped.
He dropped me at once, keeping one hand at my waist so I didn't fall over. He pushed me, more gently this time, back down on the bed.
"Get some sleep, Bells. You've got to get your head working. I know you can do this. I need you. to understand. I won't lose you, Bella. Not for this."
He was to the door in one stride, opening it quietly, and then disappearing through it. I listened for him to hit the squeaky step in the stairs, but there was no sound.
I lay back on my bed, my head spinning. I was too confused, too worn out. I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of it, only to be swallowed up by unconsciousness so swiftly that it was disorienting.
It was not the peaceful, creamless sleep I'd yearned for—of course not. I was in the forest again, and I started to wander the way I always did.
I quickly became aware that this was not the same dream as usual. For one thing, I felt no compulsion to wander or to search; I was merely wandering out of habit, because that was what was usually expected of me here. Actually, this wasn't even the same forest. The smell was different, and the light, too. It smelled, not like the damp earth of the woods, but like the brine of the ocean. I couldn't see the sky; still, it seemed like the sun must be shining—the leaves above were bright jade green.
This was the forest around La Push—near the beach there, I was sure of it. I knew that if I found the beach, I would be able to see the sun, so I hurried forward, following the faint sound of waves in the distance.
And then Jacob was there. He grabbed my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest.
"Jacob, what's wrong?" I asked. His face was the frightened face of a boy, and his hair was beautiful again, swept back into a ponytail on the nape of his neck. He yanked with all his strength, but I resisted; I didn't want to go into the dark.
"Run, Bella, you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.
The abrupt wave of deja vu was so strong it nearly woke me up.
I knew why I recognized this place now. It was because I'd been here before, in another dream. A million years ago, part of a different life entirely. This was the dream I'd had the night after I'd walked with Jacob on the beach, the first night I knew that Edward was a vampire. Reliving that day with Jacob must have dredged this dream out of my buried memories.
Detached from the dream now, I waited for it to play out. A light was coming toward me from the beach.
In just a moment, Edward would walk through the trees, his skin faintly glowing and his eyes black and dangerous. He would beckon to me, and smile. He would be beautiful as an angel, and his teeth would be pointed and sharp…
But I was getting ahead of myself. Something else had to happen first.
dropped my hand and yelped. Shaking and twitching, he fell to the ground at my feet.
"Jacob!" I screamed, but he was gone.
In his place was an enormous, red-brown wolf with dark, intelligent eyes.
The dream veered off course, like a train jumping the tracks.
This was not the same wolf that I'd dreamed of in another life. This was the great russet wolf I'd stood half a foot from in the meadow, just a week ago. This wolf was gigantic, monstrous, bigger than a bear.
This wolf stared intently at me, trying to convey something vital with his intelligent eyes. The black-brown, familiar eyes of Jacob Black.
I woke screaming at the top of my lungs.
I almost expected Charlie to come check on me this time. This wasn't my usual screaming. I buried my head in my pillow and tried to muffle the hysterics that my screams were building into. J pressed the cotton tight against my face, wondering if I couldn't also somehow smother the connection I'd just made.
But Charlie didn't come in. and eventually I was able to strangle the strange screeching coming out of my throat.
I remembered it all now—every word that Jacob had said to me that day on the beach, even the part before he got to the vampires, the "cold ones." Especially that first part.
"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from—the Quileutes, I mean?" he
asked.
"Not really," I admitted.
"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood—supposedly,
the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive,
like Noah and the ark." He smiled then, to show me how little stock he put in the histories.
"Another legend claims that we descended from wolves—and that the wolves are our brothers
still. It's against tribal law to kill them.
"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped a little lower.
"The cold ones?"
"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent.
According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made
the treaty that kept them off our land." Jacob rolled his eyes.
" Your great-grandfather?"
"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf— well, not the wolf really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."
"Werewolves have enemies?"
"Only one."
There was something stuck in my throat, choking me. I tried to swallow it down, but it was lodged there, un-moving. I tried to spit it out.
"Werewolf," I gasped.
Yes, that was the word that I was choking on.
The whole world lurched, tilting the wrong way on its axis.
What kind of a place was this? Could a world really exist where ancient legends went wandering around the borders of tiny, insignificant towns, facing down mythical monsters? Did this mean every impossible fairy tale was grounded somewhere in absolute truth? Was there anything sane or normal at all, or was everything just magic and ghost stories?
I clutched my head in my hands, trying to keep it from exploding.
A small, dry voice in the back of my mind asked me what the big deal was. Hadn't I already accepted the existence of vampires long ago—and without all the hysterics that time?
Exactly, I wanted to scream back at the voice. Wasn't one myth enough for anyone, enough for a
lifetime? Besides, there'd never been one moment that I wasn't completely aware that Edward Cullen was above and beyond the ordinary. It wasn't such a surprise to find out what he was—because he so obviously was something.
But Jacob? Jacob, who was just Jacob, and nothing more than that? Jacob, my friend? Jacob, the only human I'd ever been able to relate to… And he wasn't even human.
I fought the urge to scream again.
What did this say about me?
I knew the answer to that one. It said that there was something deeply wrong with me. Why else would my life be filled with characters from horror movies? Why else would I care so much about them that it would tear big chunks right out of my chest when they went off along their mythical ways?
In my head, everything spun and shifted, rearranging so that things that had meant one thing before, now meant something else.
There was no cult. There had never been a cult, never been a gang. No, it was much worse than that. It was a pack. A pack of five mind-blowingly gigantic, multihued werewolves that had stalked right past me in Edward's meadow…
Suddenly, I was in a frantic hurry. I glanced at the clock—it was way too early and I didn't care. I had to go to La Push now. I had to see Jacob so he could tell me that I hadn't lost my mind altogether.
I pulled on the first clean clothes I could find, not bothering to be sure they matched, and took the stairs two at a time. I almost ran into Charlie as I skidded into the hallway, headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" he asked, as surprised to see me as I was to see him. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Yeah. I have to go see Jacob."
"I thought the thing with Sam—"
"That doesn't matter, I have to talk to him right now."
"It's pretty early." He frowned when my expression didn't change. "Don't you want breakfast?"
"Not hungry." The words flew through my lips. He was blocking my path to the exit. I considered ducking around him and making a run for it, but I knew I would have to explain that to him later. "I'll be back soon, okay?"
Charlie frowned. "Straight to Jacob's house, right? No stops on the way?"
"Of course not, where would I stop?" My words were running together in my hurry.
"I don't know," he admitted. "It's just… well, there's been another attack—the wolves again. It was real close to the resort by the hot springs—there's a witness this time. The victim was only a dozen yards from the road when he disappeared. His wife saw a huge gray wolf just a few minutes later, while she was searching for him, and ran for help."
My stomach dropped like I'd hit a corkscrew on a roller coaster. "A wolf attacked him?"
"There's no sign of him—just a little blood again." Charlie's face was pained. "The rangers are going out armed, taking armed volunteers. There're a lot of hunters who are eager to be involved—there's a reward being offered for wolf carcasses. That's going to mean a lot of firepower out there in the forest, and it worries me." He shook his head. "When people get too excited, accidents happen…"
"They're going to shoot the wolves?" My voice shot through three octaves.
"What else can we do? What's wrong?" he asked, his tense eyes studying my face. I felt faint; I must be whiter than usual. "You aren't turning into a tree-hugger on me, are you?"
I couldn't answer. If he hadn't been watching me, I would have put my head between my knees. I'd forgotten about the missing hikers, the bloody paw prints… I hadn't connected those facts to my first realization.
"Look, honey, don't let this scare you. Just stay in town or on the highway—no stops—okay?"
"Okay," I repeated in a weak voice.
"I've got to go."
I looked at him closely for the first time, and saw that he had his gun strapped to his waist and hiking boots on.
"You aren't going out there after the wolves, are you, Dad?"
"I've got to help, Bells. People are disappearing."
My voice shot up again, almost hysterical now. "No! No, don't go. It's too dangerous!"
"I've got to do my job, kid. Don't be such a pessimist—I'll be fine." He turned for the door, and held it open. "You leaving?"
I hesitated, my stomach still spinning in uncomfortable loops. What could I say to stop him? I was too dizzy to think of a solution.
"Bells?"
"Maybe it's too early to go to La Push," I whispered.
"I agree," he said, and he stepped out into the rain, shutting the door behind him.
As soon as he was out of sight, I dropped to the floor and put my head between my knees.
Should I go after Charlie? What would I say?
And what about Jacob? Jacob was my best friend; I needed to warn him. If he really was a—I cringed and forced myself to think the word—werewolf (and I knew it was true, I could feel it), then people would be shooting at him! I needed to tell him and his friends that people would try to kill them if they went running around like gigantic wolves. I needed to tell them to stop.
They had to stop! Charlie was out there in the woods. Would they care about that? I wondered…
Up until now, only strangers had disappeared. Did that mean anything, or was it just chance?
I needed to believe that Jacob, at least, would care about that.
Either way, I had to warn him.
Or… did I?
Jacob was my best friend, but was he a monster, too? A real one? A bad one? Should I warn him, if he and his friends were… were murderers! If they were out slaughtering innocent hikers in cold blood? If they were truly creatures from a horror movie in every sense, would it be wrong to protect them?
It was inevitable that I would have to compare Jacob and his friends to the Cullens. I wrapped my arms around my chest, fighting the hole, while I thought of them.
I didn't know anything about werewolves, clearly. I would have expected something closer to the movies—big hairy half-men creatures or something—if I'd expected anything at all. So I didn't know what made them hunt, whether hunger or thirst or just a desire to kill. It was hard to judge, not knowing that.
But it couldn't be worse than what the Cullens endured in their quest to be good. I thought of Esme—the tears started when I pictured her kind, lovely face—and how, as motherly and loving as she was, she'd had to hold her nose, all ashamed, and run from me when I was bleeding. It couldn't be harder than that.
I thought of Carlisle, the centuries upon centuries that he had struggled to teach himself to ignore blood, so that he could save lives as a doctor. Nothing could be harder than that.
The werewolves had chosen a different path.
Now, what should I choose?
Part 11: Cult
11. CULT
EACH TIME THAT I OPENED MY EYES TO THE MORNING light and realized I'd lived through
another night was a surprise to me. After the surprise wore off, my heart would start to race and my
palms would sweat; I couldn't really breathe again until I'd gotten up and ascertained that Charlie had
survived as well.
I could tell he was worried—watching me jump at any loud sound, or my face suddenly go white for no
reason that he could see. From the questions he asked now and then, he seemed to blame the change on
Jacob's continued absence.
The terror that was always foremost in my thoughts usually distracted me from the fact that another week
had passed, and Jacob still hadn't called me. But when I was able to concentrate on my normal life—if
my life was really ever normal—this upset me.
I missed him horribly.
It had been bad enough to be alone before I was scared silly. Now, more than ever, I yearned for his
carefree laugh and his infectious grin. I needed the safe sanity of his homemade garage and his warm
hand around my cold fingers.
I'd half expected him to call on Monday. If there had been some progress with Embry, wouldn't he want
to report it? I wanted to believe that it was worry for his friend that was occupying all his time, not that he
was just giving up on me.
I called him Tuesday, but no one answered. Were the phone lines still having problems? Or had Billy
invested in caller I.D.?
On Wednesday I called every half hour until after eleven at night, desperate to hear the warmth of
Jacob's voice.
Thursday I sat in my truck in front of my house—with the locks pushed down—keys in hand, for a solid
hour. I was arguing with myself, trying to justify a quick trip to La Push, but I couldn't do it.
I knew that Laurent had gone back to Victoria by now. If I went to La Push, I took the chance of leading
one of them there. What if they caught up to me when Jake was nearby? As much as it hurt me, I knew it
was better for Jacob that he was avoiding me. Safer for him.
It was bad enough that I couldn't figure out a way to keep Charlie safe. Nighttime was the most likely
time that they would come looking ior me, and what could I say to get Charlie out of the house? If I told
him the truth, he'd have me locked up in a rubber room somewhere. I would have endured
that—welcomed it, even—if it could have kept him safe. But Victoria would still come to his house first,
looking for me. Maybe, if she found me here, that would be enough for her. Maybe she would just leave
when she was done with me.
So I couldn't run away. Even if I could, where would I go? To Renee? I shuddered at the thought of
dragging my lethal shadows into my mother's safe, sunny world. I would never endanger her that way.
The worry was eating a hole in my stomach. Soon I would have matching punctures.
That night, Charlie did me another favor and called Harry again to see if the Blacks were out of town.
Harry reported that Billy had attended the council meeting Wednesday night, and never mentioned
anything about leaving. Charlie warned me not to make a nuisance of myself—Jacob would call when he
got around to it.
Friday afternoon, as I drove home from school, it hit me out of the blue.
I wasn't paying attention to the familiar road, letting the sound of the engine deaden my brain and silence
the worries, when my subconscious delivered a verdict it must have been working on for some time
without my knowledge.
As soon as I thought of it, I felt really stupid for not seeing it sooner. Sure. I'd had a lot on my
mind—revenue-obsessed vampires, giant mutant wolves, a ragged hole in the center of my chest—but
when I laid the evidence out, it was embarrassingly obvious.
Jacob avoiding me. Charlie saying he looked strange, upset. . . . Billy's vague, unhelpful answers.
Holy crow, I knew exactly what was going on with Jacob.
It was Sam Uley. Even my nightmares had been trying to tell me that. Sam had gotten to Jacob.
Whatever was happening to the other boys on the reservation had reached out and stolen my friend.
He'd been sucked into Sam's cult.
He hadn't given up on me at all, I realized with a rush of feeling.
I let my truck idle in front of my house. What should I do? I weighed the dangers against each other.
If I went looking for Jacob, I risked the chance of Victoria or Laurent finding me with him.
If I didn't go after him, Sam would pull him deeper into his frightening, compulsory gang. Maybe it would
be too late if I didn't act soon.
It had been a week, and no vampires had come for me yet. A week was more than enough time for them
to have returned, so I must not be a priority. Most likely, as I'd decided before, they would come for me
at night. The chances of them following me to La Push were much lower than the chance of losing Jacob
to Sam.
It was worth the danger of the secluded forest road. This was no idle visit to see what was going on. I
knew what was going on. This was a rescue mission. I was going to talk to Jacob—kidnap him if I had
to. I'd once seen a PBS show on deprogramming the brainwashed. There had to be some kind of cure.
I decided I'd better call Charlie first. Maybe whatever was going on down in La Push was something the
police should be involved in. I dashed inside, in a hurry to be on my way.
Charlie answered the phone it the station himself.
"Chief Swan."
"Dad, it's Bella."
"What's wrong?'"
I couldn't argue with his doomsday assumption this time. My voice was shaking.
"I'm worried about Jacob."
"Why?" he asked, surprised by the unexpected topic.
"I think… I think something weird is going on down at the reservation. Jacob told me about some strange
stuff happening with the other boys his age. Now he's acting the same way and I'm scared."
"What kind of stuff?" He used his professional, police business voice. That was good; he was taking me
seriously.
"First he was scared, and then he was avoiding me, and now… I'm afraid he's part of that bizarre gang
down there, Sam's gang. Sam Uley's gang."
"Sam Uley?" Charlie repeated, surprised again.
"Yes."
Charlie's voice was more relaxed when he answered. "I think you've got it wrong, Bells. Sam Uley is
great kid. Well, he's a man now. A good son. You should hear Billy talk about him. He's really doing
wonders with the youth on the reservation. He's the one who—" Charlie broke off mid-sentence, and
guessed that he had been about to make a reference to the night I'd gotten lost in the woods. I moved
quickly.
"Dad, it's not like that. Jacob was scared of him."
"Did you talk to Billy about this?" He was trying to soothe me now. I'd lost him as soon as I'd mentioned
Sam.
"Billy's not concerned."
"Well, Bella, then I'm sure it's okay. Jacob's a kid; he was probably just messing around. I'm sure he's
fine. He can't spend every waking minute with you, after all."
"This isn't about me," I insisted, but the battle was lost.
"I don't think you need to worry about this. Let Billy take care of Jacob."
"Charlie…" My voice was starting to sound whiney.
"Bells, I got a lot on my plate right now. Two tourists have gone missing off a trail outside crescent lake."
There was an anxious edge to his voice. "This wolf problem is getting out of hand."
I was momentarily distracted—stunned, really—by his news. There was no way the wolves could have
survived a match-up with Laurent…
"Are you sure that's what happened to them?" I asked.
"Afraid so, honey. There was—" He hesitated. "There were tracks again, and… some blood this time."
"Oh!" It must not have come to a confrontation, then. Laurent must have simply outrun the wolves, but
why? What I'd seen in the meadow just got stranger and stranger—more impossible to understand.
"Look, I really have to go. Don't worry about Jake, Bella. I'm sure it's nothing."
"Fine," I said curtly, frustrated as his words reminded me of the more urgent crisis at hand. "Bye." I hang
up.
I stared at the phone for a long minute. What the hell, I decided.
Billy answered after two rings.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Billy," I almost growled. I tried to sound more friendly as I continued. "Can I talk to Jacob,
please?"
"Jake's not here."
What a shock. "Do you know where he is?"
"He's out with his friends." Billy's voice was careful.
"Oh yeah? Anyone I know? Quil?" I could tell the words didn't come across as casually as I'd meant
them to.
"No," Billy said slowly. "I don't think he's with Quil today."
I knew better than to mention Sam's name.
"Embry?" I asked.
Billy seemed happier to answer this one. "Yeah, he's with Embry."
That was enough for me. Embry was one of them.
"Well, have him call me when he gets in, all right?"
"Sure, sure. No problem." Click.
"See you soon, Billy," I muttered into the dead phone.
I drove to La Push determined to wait. I'd sit out front of his house all night if I had to. I'd miss school.
The boy was going to have to come home sometime, and when he did, he was going to have to talk to
me.
My mind was so preoccupied that the trip I'd been terrified of making seemed to take only a few
seconds. Before I was expecting it, the forest began to thin, and I knew I would soon be able to see the
first little houses of the reservation.
Walking away, along the left side of the road, was a tall boy with a baseball cap.
My breath caught for just a moment in my throat, hopeful that luck was with me for once, and I'd
srumbled across Jacob without hardly trying. But this boy was too wide, and the hair was short under the
hat. Even from behind, I was sure it was Quil, though he looked bigger than the last time I'd seen him.
What was with these Quileute boys? Were they feeding them experimental growth hormones?
I crossed over to the wrong side of the road to stop next to him. He looked up when the roar of my
truck approached.
Quil's expression frightened me more than it surprised me. His face was bleak, brooding, his forehead
creased with worry.
"Oh, hey, Bella," he greeted me dully.
"Hi, Quil… Are you okay?"
He stared at me morosely. "Fine."
"Can I give you a ride somewhere?" I offered.
"Sure, I guess," he mumbled. He shuffled around the front of the truck and opened the passenger door to
climb in.
"Where to?"
"My house is on the north side, back behind the store," he told me.
"Have you seen Jacob today." The question burst from me almost before he'd finished speaking.
I looked at Quil eagerly, waiting for his answer. He stared out the windshield for a second before he
spoke. "From a distance," he finally said.
"A distance?" I echoed.
"I tried to follow them—he was with Embry." His voice was low, hard to hear over the engine. I leaned
closer. "I know they saw me. But they turned and just disappeared into the trees. I don't think they were
alone—I think Sam and his crew might have been with them.
"I've been stumbling around in the forest for an hour, yelling for them. I just barely found the road again
when you drove up."
"So Sam did get to him." The words were a little distorted—my teeth were gritted together.
Quil stared at me. "You know about that.?"
I nodded. "Jake told me… before."
"Before," Quil repeated, and sighed.
"Jacob's just as bad as the others now?"
"Never leaves Sam's side." Quil turned his head and spit out the open window.
"And before that—did he avoid everyone? Was he acting upset?"
His voice was low and rough. "Not for as long as the others. Maybe one day. Then Sam caught up with
him."
"What do you think it is? Drugs or something?"
"I can't see Jacob or Embry getting into anything like that… but what do I know? What else could it be?
And why aren't the old people worried?" He shook his head, and the fear showed in his eyes now.
"Jacob didn't want to be a part of this… cult. I don't understand what could change him." He stared at
me, his face frightened. "I don't want to be next."
My eyes mirrored his fear. That was the second time I'd heard it described as a cult. I shivered. "Are
your parents any help?"
He grimaced. "Right. My grandfather's on the council with Jacob's dad. Sam Uley is the best thing that
ever happened to this place, as far as he's concerned."
We stared at each other for a prolonged moment. We were in La Push now, and my truck was barely
crawling along the empty road. I could see the village's only store not too far ahead.
"I'll get out now," Quil said. "My house is right over there." He gestured toward the small wooden
rectangle behind the store. I pulled over to the shoulder, and he jumped out.
"I'm going to go wait for Jacob," I told him in a hard voice.
"Good luck." He slammed the door and shuffled forward along the road, his head bent forward, his
shoulders slumped.
Quil's face haunted me as I made a wide U-turn and headed back toward the Blacks'. He was terrified
of being next. What was happening here?
I stopped in front of Jacob's house, killing the motor and rolling down the windows. It was stuffy today,
no breeze. I put my feet up on the dashboard and settled in to wait.
A movement flashed in my peripheral vision—I turned and spotted Billy looking at me through the front
window with a confused expression. I waved once and smiled a tight smile, but stayed where I was.
His eyes narrowed; he let the curtain fall across the glass.
I was prepared to stay as long as it took, but I wished I had something to do. I dug up a pen out of the
bottom of my backpack, and an old test. I started to doodle on the back of the scrap.
I'd only had time to scrawl one row of diamonds when there was a sharp tap against my door.
I jumped, looking up, expecting Billy.
"What are you doing here, Bella.'" Jacob growled.
I stared at him in blank astonishment.
Jacob had changed radically in the last weeks since I'd seen him. The first thing I noticed was his
hair—his beautiful hair was all gone, cropped quite short, covering his head with an inky gloss like black
satin. The planes of his face seemed to have hardened subtly, tightened… aged. His neck and his
shoulders were different, too, thicker somehow. His hands, where they gripped the window frame,
looked enormous, with the tendons and veins more prominent under the russet skin. But the physical
changes were insignificant.
It was his expression that made him almost completely unrecognizable. The open, friendly smile was gone
like the hair, the warmth in his dark eyes altered to a brooding resentment that was instantly disturbing.
There was a darkness in Jacob now. Like my sun had imploded.
"Jacob?" I whispered.
He just stared at me, his eyes tense and angry.
I realized we weren't alone. Behind him stood four others; all tall and russet-skinned, black hair chopped
short just like Jacob's. They could have been brothers—I couldn't even pick Embry out of the group.
The resemblance was only intensified by the strikingly similar hostility in every pair of eyes.
Every pair but one. The oldest by several years, Sam stood in the very back, his face serene and sure. I
had to swallow back the bile that rose in my throat. I wanted to take a swing at him. No, I wanted to do
more than that. More than anything, I wanted to be fierce and deadly, someone no one would dare mess
with. Someone who would scare Sam Uley silly.
I wanted to be a vampire.
The violent desire caught me off guard and knocked the wind out of me. It was the most forbidden of all
wishes—even when I only wished it for a malicious reason like this, to gain an advantage over an
enemy—because it was the most painful. That future was lost to me forever, had never really been within
my grasp. I scrambled to gain control of myself while the hole in my chest ached hollowly.
"What do you want?" Jacob demanded, his expression growing more resentful as he watched the play of
emotion across my face.
"I want to talk to you," I said in a weak voice. I tried to focus, but I was still reeling against the escape of
my taboo dream.
"Go ahead," he hissed through his teeth. His glare was vicious. I'd never seen him look at anyone like
that, least of all me. It hurt with a surprising intensity—a physical pain, a stabbing in my head.
"Alone!" I hissed, and my voice was stronger.
He looked behind him, and I knew where his eyes would go. Every one of them was turned for Sam's
reaction.
Sam nodded once, his face unperturbed. He made a brief comment in an unfamiliar, liquid language—I
could only be positive that it wasn't French or Spanish, but I guessed that it was Quileute. He turned and
walked into Jacob's house. The others, Paul, Jared, and Embry, I assumed, followed him in.
"Okay." Jacob seemed a bit less furious when the others were gone. His face was a little calmer, but also
more hopeless. His mouth seemed permanently pulled down at the corners.
I took a deep breath. "You know what I want to know."
He didn't answer. He just stared at me bitterly.
I stared back and the silence stretched on. The pain in his face unnerved me. I felt a lump beginning to
build in my throat.
"Can we walk?" I asked while I could still speak.
He didn't respond in any way; his face didn't change.
I got out of the car, feeling unseen eyes behind the windows on me, and started walking toward the trees
to the north. My feet squished in the damp grass and mud beside the road, and, as that was the only
sound, at first I thought he wasn't following me. But when I glanced around, he was right beside me, his
feet having somehow found a less noisy path than mine.
I felt better in the fringe of trees, where Sam couldn't possibly be watching. As we walked, I struggled for
the right thing to say, but nothing came. I just got more and more angry that Jacob had gotten sucked
in… that Billy had allowed this… that Sam was able to stand there so assured and calm…
Jacob suddenly picked up the pace, striding ahead of me easily with his long legs, and then swinging
around to face me, planting himself in my path so I would have to stop too.
I was distracted by the overt grace of his movement. Jacob had been nearly as klutzy as me with his
never-ending growth spurt. When did that changed?
But Jacob didn't give me time to think about it.
"Let's get this over with," he said in a hard, husky voice.
I waited. He knew what I wanted.
"It's not what you think." His voice was abruptly weary. "It's not what I thought—I was way off."
"So what is it, then?"
He studied my face for a long moment, speculating. The anger never completely left his eyes. "I can't tell
you," he finally said.
My jaw tightened, and I spoke through my teeth. "I thought we were friends."
"We were." There was a slight emphasis on the past tense.
"But you don't need friends anymore," I said sourly. "You have Sam. Isn't that nice—you've always
looked up to him so much."
"I didn't understand him before."
"And now you've seen the light. Hallelujah."
"It wasn't like I thought it was. This isn't Sam's fault. He's helping me as much as he can." His voice
turned brittle and he looked over my head, past me, rage burning out from his eyes.
"He's helping you," I repeated dubiously. "Naturally."
But Jacob didn't seem to be listening. He was taking deep, deliberate breaths, trying to calm himself. He
was so mad that his hands were shaking.
"Jacob, please," I whispered "Won't you tell me what happened? Maybe I can help."
"No one can help me now." The words were a low moan; his voice broke.
"What did he do to you?" I demanded, tears collecting in my eyes. I reached out to him, as I had once
before, stepping forward with my arms wide.
This time he cringed away, holding his hands up defensively. "Don't touch me," he whispered.
"Is Sam catching?" I mumbled. The stupid tears had escaped the corners of my eyes. I wiped them away
with the back of my hand, and folded my arms across my chest.
"Stop blaming Sam." The words came out fast, like a reflex. His hands reached up to twist around the
hair that was no longer there, and then fell limply at his sides.
"Then who should I blame?" I retorted.
He halfway smiled; it was a bleak, twisted thing.
"You don't want to hear that."
"The hell I don't!" I snapped. "I want to know, and I want to know now."
"You're wrong," he snapped back.
"Don't you dare tell me I'm wrong—I'm not the one who got brainwashed! Tell me now whose fault this
all is, if it's not your precious Sam!"
"You asked for it," he growled at me, eyes glinting hard. "If you want to blame someone, why don't you
point your finger at those filthy, reeking bloodsuckers that you love so much?"
My mouth fell open and my breath came out with a whooshing sound. I was frozen in place, stabbed
through with his double-edged words. The pain twisted in familiar patterns through my body, the jagged
hole ripping me open from the inside out, but it was second place, background music to the chaos of my
thoughts. I couldn't believe that I'd heard him correctly. There was no trace of indecision in his face. Only
fury.
My mouth still hung wide.
"I told you that you didn't want to hear it," he said.
"I don't understand who you mean," I whispered.
He raised one eyebrow in disbelief. "I think you understand exactly who I mean. You're not going to
make me say it, are you? I don't like hurting you."
"I don't understand who you mean," I repeated mechanically.
"The Cullens," he said slowly, drawing out the word, scrutinizing my face as he spoke it. "I saw that—I
can see in your eyes what it does to you when I say their name."
I shook my head back and forth in denial, trying to clear it at the same time. How did he know this? And
how did it have anything to do with Sam's cult? Was it a gang of vampire-haters? What was the point of
forming such a society when no vampires lived in Forks anymore? Why would Jacob start believing the
stories about the Cullens now, when the evidence of them was long gone, never to return?
It took me too long to come up with the correct response. "Don't tell me you're listening to Billy's
superstitious nonsense now," I said with a feeble attempt at mockery.
"He knows more than I gave him credit for."
"Be serious, Jacob."
He glared at me, his eyes critical.
"Superstitions aside," I said quickly. "I still don't see what you're accusing the... Cullens"—wince—"of.
They left more than half a year ago. How can you blame them for what Sam is doing now?"
"Sam isn't doing anything, Bella. And I know they're gone. But sometimes… things are set in motion, and
then it's too late."
"What's set in motion? What's too late? What are you blaming them for?"
He was suddenly right in my face, his fury glowing in his eyes. "For existing," he hissed.
I was surprised and distracted as the warning words came in Edward's voice again, when I wasn't even
scared.
"Quiet now, Bella. Don't push him," Edward cautioned in my ear.
Ever since Edward's name had broken through the careful walls I'd buried it behind, I'd been unable to
lock it up again. It didn't hurt now—not during the precious seconds when I could hear his voice.
Jacob was fuming in front of me, quivering with anger.
I didn't understand why the Edward delusion was unexpectedly in my mind. Jacob was livid, but he was
Jacob. There was no adrenaline, no danger.
"Give him a chance to calm down," Edward's voice insisted.
I shook my head in confusion. "You're being ridiculous," I told them both.
"Fine," Jacob answered, breathing deeply again. "I won't argue it with you. It doesn't matter anyway, the
damage is done."
"What damage?"
He didn't flinch as I shouted the words in his face.
"Let's head back. There's nothing more to say."
I gaped. "There's everything more to say! You haven't said anything yet!"
He walked past me, striding back toward the house.
"I ran into Quil today," I yelled after him.
He paused midstep, but didn't turn.
"You remember your friend, Quil? Yeah, he's terrified."
Jacob whirled to face me. His expression was pained. "Quil" was all he said.
"He's worried about you, too. He's freaked out."
Jacob stared past me with desperate eyes.
I goaded him further. "He's frightened that he's next."
Jacob clutched at a tree for support, his face turning a strange shade of green under the red-brown
surface. "He won't be next," Jacob muttered to himself. "He can't be. It's over now. This shouldn't still be
happening. Why? Why?" His fist slammed against the tree. It wasn't a big tree, slender and only a few
feet taller than Jacob. But it still surprised me when tht trunk gave way and snapped off loudly under his
blows.
Jacob stared at the sharp, broken point with shock that quickly turned to horror.
"I have to get back." He whirled and stalked away so swiftly that I had to jog to keep up.
"Back to Sam!"
"That's one way of looking at it," it sounded like he said. He was mumbling and facing away.
I chased him back to the truck. "Wait!" I called as he turned toward the house.
He spun around to face me, and I saw that his hands were shaking again.
"Go home, Bella. I can't hang out with you anymore."
The silly, inconsequential hurt was incredibly potent. The tears welled up again. "Are you… breaking up
with me?" The words were all wrong, but they were the best way I could think to phrase what I was
asking. After all, what Jake and I had was more than any schoolyard romance. Stronger.
He barked out a bitter laugh. "Hardly. If that were the case, I'd say 'Let's stay friends.' I can't even say
that."
"Jacob… why? Sam won't let you have other friends? Please, Jake. You promised. I need you!" The
blank emptiness of my life before—before Jacob brought some semblance of reason back into
it—reared up and confronted me. Loneliness choked in my throat.
"I'm sorry, Bella," Jacob said each word distinctly in a cold voice that didn't seem to belong to him.
I didn't believe that this was really what Jacob wanted to say. It seemed like there was something else
trying to be said through his angry eyes, but I couldn't understand the message.
Maybe this wasn't about Sam at all. Maybe this had nothing to do with the Cullens. Maybe he was just
trying to pull himself out of a hopeless situation. Maybe I should let him do that, if that's what was best for
him. I should do that. It would be right.
But I heard my voice escaping in a whisper.
"I'm sorry that I couldn't… before… I wish I could change how I feel about you, Jacob." I was
desperate, reaching, stretching the truth so far that it curved nearly into the shape of a lie. "Maybe…
maybe I would change," I whispered. "Maybe, if you gave me some time… just don't quit on me now,
Jake. I can't take it."
His face went from anger to agony in a second. One shaking hand reached out toward me.
"No. Don't think like that, Bella, please. Don't blame yourself, don't think this is your fault. This one is all
me. I swear, it's not about you."
"It's not you, it's me," I whispered. "There's a new one."
"I mean it, Bella. I'm not…" he struggled, his voice going even huskier as he fought to control his emotion.
His eyes were tortured. "I'm not good enough to be your friend anymore, or anything else. I'm not what I
was before. I'm not good."
"What?" I stared at him, confused and appalled. "What are you saying? You're much better than I am,
Jake. You are good! Who told you that you aren't? Sam? It's a vicious lie, Jacob! Don't let him tell you
that!" I was suddenly yelling again.
Jacob's face went hard and flat. "No one had to tell me anything. I know what I am."
"You're my friend, that's what you are! Jake—don't!"
He was backing away from me.
"I'm sorry, Bella," he said again; this time it was a broken mumble. He turned and almost ran into the
house.
I was unable to move from where I stood. I stared at the little house; it looked too small to hold four
large boys and two larger men. There was no reaction inside. No flutter at the edge of the curtain, no
sound of voices or movement. It faced me vacantly.
The rain started to drizzle, stinging here and there against my skin. I couldn't take my eyes off the house.
Jacob would come back. He had to.
The rain picked up, and so did the wind. The drops were no longer falling from above; they slanted at an
angle from the west. I could smell the brine from the ocean. My hair whipped in my face, sticking to the
wet places and tangling in my lashes. I waited.
Finally the door opened, and I took a step forward in relief.
Billy rolled his chair into the door frame. I could see no one behind him.
"Charlie just called, Bella. I told him you were on your way home." His eyes were full of pity.
The pity made it final somehow. I didn't comment. I just turned robotically and climbed in my truck. I'd
left the windows open and the seats were slick and wet. It didn't matter. I was already soaked.
Not as bad! Not as bad! my mind tried to comfort me. It was true. This wasn't as bad. This wasn't the
end of the world, not again. This was just the end of what little peace there was left behind. That was all.
Not as bad, I agreed, then added, but bad enough.
I'd thought Jake had been healing the hole in me—or at least plugging it up, keeping it from hurting me so
much. I'd been wrong. He'd just been carving out his own hole, so that I was now riddled through like
Swiss cheese. I wondered why I didn't crumble into pieces.
Charlie was waiting on the porch. As I rolled to a stop, he walked out to meet me.
"Billy called. He said you got in fight with Jake—said you were pretty upset," he explained as he opened
my door for me.
Then he looked at my face. A kind of horrified recognition registered in his expression. I tried to feel my
face from the inside out, to know what he was seeing. My face felt empty and cold, and I realized what it
would remind him of.
"That's not exactly how it happened," I muttered.
Charlie put his arm around me and helped me out of the car. He didn't comment on my sodden clothes.
"Then what did happen'" he asked when we were inside. He pulled the afghan off the back of the sofa as
he spoke and wrapped it around my shoulders. I realized I was shivering still.
My voice was lifeless. "Sam Uley says Jacob can't be my friend anymore."
Charlie shot me a strange look. "Who told you that?"
"Jacob," I stated, though that wasn't exactly what he'd said. It was still true.
Charlie's eyebrows pulled together. "You really think there's something wrong with the Uley kid?"
"I know there is. Jacob wouldn't tell me what, though." I could hear the water from my clothes dripping
to the floor and splashing on the linoleum. "I'm going to go change."
Charlie was lost in thought. "Okay," he said absently.
I decided to take a shower because I was so cold, but the hot water didn't seem to affect the
temperature of my skin. I was still freezing when I gave up and shut the water off. In the sudden quiet, I
could hear Charlie talking to someone downstairs. I wrapped a towel around me, and cracked the
bathroom door.
Charlie's voice was angry. "I'm not buying that. It doesn't make any sense."
It was quiet then, and I realized he was on the phone. A minute passed.
"Don't you put this on Bella!" Charlie suddenly shouted.
I jumped. When he spoke again, his voice was careful and lower. "Bella's made it very clear all along that
she and Jacob were just friends… Well, if that was it, then why didn't you say so at first? No, Billy, I
think she's right about this… Because I know my daughter, and if she says Jacob was scared before—"
He was cut off mid-sentence, and when he answered he was almost shouting again.
"What do you mean I don't know my daughter as well as I think I do!" He listened for a brief second,
and his response was almost too low for me to hear. "If you think I'm going to remind her about that, then
you had better think again. She's only just starting to get over it, and mostly because of Jacob, I think. If
whatever Jacob has going on with this Sam character sends her back into that depression, then Jacob is
going to have to answer to me. You're my friend, Billy, but this is hurting my family."
There was another break for Billy to respond.
"You got that right—those boys set one toe out of line and I'm going to know about it. We'll be keeping
an eye on the situation, you can be sure of that." He was no longer Charlie; he was Chief Swan now.
"Fine. Yeah. Goodbye." The phone slammed into the cradle.
I tiptoed quickly across the hall into my room. Charlie was muttering angrily in the kitchen.
So Billy was going to blame me. I was leading Jacob on and he'd finally had enough.
It was strange, for I'd feared that myself, but after the last thing Jacob had said this afternoon, I didn't
believe it anymore. There was much more to this than an unrequited crush, and it surprised me that Billy
would stoop to claiming that. It made me think that whatever secret they were keeping was bigger than
I'd been imagining. At least Charlie was on my side now.
I put my pajamas on and crawled into bed. Life seemed dark enough at the moment chat I let myself
cheat. The hole—holes now—were already aching, so why not? I pulled out the memory—nor a real
memory that would hurt too much, but the false memory of Edward's voice in my mind this
afternoon—and played it over and over in my head until I fell asleep with the tears still streaming calmly
down my empty face.
It was a new dream tonight. Rain was falling and Jacob was walking soundlessly beside me, though
beneath my feet the ground crunched like dry gravel. But he wasn't my Jacob; he was the new, bitter,
graceful Jacob. The smooth suppleness of his walk reminded me of someone else, and, as I watched, his
features started to change. The russet color of his skin leached away, leaving his face pale white like
bone. His eyes turned gold, and then crimson, and then back to gold again. His shorn hair twisted in the
breeze, turning bronze where the wind touched it. And his face became so beautiful that it shattered my
heart. I reached for him, but he took a step away, raising his hands like a shield. And then Edward
vanished.
I wasn't sure, when I woke in the dark, if I'd just begun crying, or if my tears had run while I slept and
simply continued now. I stared at my dark ceiling. I could feel that it was the middle of the night—I was
still half-asleep, maybe more than half. I closed my eyes wearily and prayed for a dreamless sleep.
That's when I heard the noise that must have wakened me in the first place. Something sharp scraped
along the length of my window with a high-pitched squeal, like fingernails against the glass.
EACH TIME THAT I OPENED MY EYES TO THE MORNING light and realized I'd lived through
another night was a surprise to me. After the surprise wore off, my heart would start to race and my
palms would sweat; I couldn't really breathe again until I'd gotten up and ascertained that Charlie had
survived as well.
I could tell he was worried—watching me jump at any loud sound, or my face suddenly go white for no
reason that he could see. From the questions he asked now and then, he seemed to blame the change on
Jacob's continued absence.
The terror that was always foremost in my thoughts usually distracted me from the fact that another week
had passed, and Jacob still hadn't called me. But when I was able to concentrate on my normal life—if
my life was really ever normal—this upset me.
I missed him horribly.
It had been bad enough to be alone before I was scared silly. Now, more than ever, I yearned for his
carefree laugh and his infectious grin. I needed the safe sanity of his homemade garage and his warm
hand around my cold fingers.
I'd half expected him to call on Monday. If there had been some progress with Embry, wouldn't he want
to report it? I wanted to believe that it was worry for his friend that was occupying all his time, not that he
was just giving up on me.
I called him Tuesday, but no one answered. Were the phone lines still having problems? Or had Billy
invested in caller I.D.?
On Wednesday I called every half hour until after eleven at night, desperate to hear the warmth of
Jacob's voice.
Thursday I sat in my truck in front of my house—with the locks pushed down—keys in hand, for a solid
hour. I was arguing with myself, trying to justify a quick trip to La Push, but I couldn't do it.
I knew that Laurent had gone back to Victoria by now. If I went to La Push, I took the chance of leading
one of them there. What if they caught up to me when Jake was nearby? As much as it hurt me, I knew it
was better for Jacob that he was avoiding me. Safer for him.
It was bad enough that I couldn't figure out a way to keep Charlie safe. Nighttime was the most likely
time that they would come looking ior me, and what could I say to get Charlie out of the house? If I told
him the truth, he'd have me locked up in a rubber room somewhere. I would have endured
that—welcomed it, even—if it could have kept him safe. But Victoria would still come to his house first,
looking for me. Maybe, if she found me here, that would be enough for her. Maybe she would just leave
when she was done with me.
So I couldn't run away. Even if I could, where would I go? To Renee? I shuddered at the thought of
dragging my lethal shadows into my mother's safe, sunny world. I would never endanger her that way.
The worry was eating a hole in my stomach. Soon I would have matching punctures.
That night, Charlie did me another favor and called Harry again to see if the Blacks were out of town.
Harry reported that Billy had attended the council meeting Wednesday night, and never mentioned
anything about leaving. Charlie warned me not to make a nuisance of myself—Jacob would call when he
got around to it.
Friday afternoon, as I drove home from school, it hit me out of the blue.
I wasn't paying attention to the familiar road, letting the sound of the engine deaden my brain and silence
the worries, when my subconscious delivered a verdict it must have been working on for some time
without my knowledge.
As soon as I thought of it, I felt really stupid for not seeing it sooner. Sure. I'd had a lot on my
mind—revenue-obsessed vampires, giant mutant wolves, a ragged hole in the center of my chest—but
when I laid the evidence out, it was embarrassingly obvious.
Jacob avoiding me. Charlie saying he looked strange, upset. . . . Billy's vague, unhelpful answers.
Holy crow, I knew exactly what was going on with Jacob.
It was Sam Uley. Even my nightmares had been trying to tell me that. Sam had gotten to Jacob.
Whatever was happening to the other boys on the reservation had reached out and stolen my friend.
He'd been sucked into Sam's cult.
He hadn't given up on me at all, I realized with a rush of feeling.
I let my truck idle in front of my house. What should I do? I weighed the dangers against each other.
If I went looking for Jacob, I risked the chance of Victoria or Laurent finding me with him.
If I didn't go after him, Sam would pull him deeper into his frightening, compulsory gang. Maybe it would
be too late if I didn't act soon.
It had been a week, and no vampires had come for me yet. A week was more than enough time for them
to have returned, so I must not be a priority. Most likely, as I'd decided before, they would come for me
at night. The chances of them following me to La Push were much lower than the chance of losing Jacob
to Sam.
It was worth the danger of the secluded forest road. This was no idle visit to see what was going on. I
knew what was going on. This was a rescue mission. I was going to talk to Jacob—kidnap him if I had
to. I'd once seen a PBS show on deprogramming the brainwashed. There had to be some kind of cure.
I decided I'd better call Charlie first. Maybe whatever was going on down in La Push was something the
police should be involved in. I dashed inside, in a hurry to be on my way.
Charlie answered the phone it the station himself.
"Chief Swan."
"Dad, it's Bella."
"What's wrong?'"
I couldn't argue with his doomsday assumption this time. My voice was shaking.
"I'm worried about Jacob."
"Why?" he asked, surprised by the unexpected topic.
"I think… I think something weird is going on down at the reservation. Jacob told me about some strange
stuff happening with the other boys his age. Now he's acting the same way and I'm scared."
"What kind of stuff?" He used his professional, police business voice. That was good; he was taking me
seriously.
"First he was scared, and then he was avoiding me, and now… I'm afraid he's part of that bizarre gang
down there, Sam's gang. Sam Uley's gang."
"Sam Uley?" Charlie repeated, surprised again.
"Yes."
Charlie's voice was more relaxed when he answered. "I think you've got it wrong, Bells. Sam Uley is
great kid. Well, he's a man now. A good son. You should hear Billy talk about him. He's really doing
wonders with the youth on the reservation. He's the one who—" Charlie broke off mid-sentence, and
guessed that he had been about to make a reference to the night I'd gotten lost in the woods. I moved
quickly.
"Dad, it's not like that. Jacob was scared of him."
"Did you talk to Billy about this?" He was trying to soothe me now. I'd lost him as soon as I'd mentioned
Sam.
"Billy's not concerned."
"Well, Bella, then I'm sure it's okay. Jacob's a kid; he was probably just messing around. I'm sure he's
fine. He can't spend every waking minute with you, after all."
"This isn't about me," I insisted, but the battle was lost.
"I don't think you need to worry about this. Let Billy take care of Jacob."
"Charlie…" My voice was starting to sound whiney.
"Bells, I got a lot on my plate right now. Two tourists have gone missing off a trail outside crescent lake."
There was an anxious edge to his voice. "This wolf problem is getting out of hand."
I was momentarily distracted—stunned, really—by his news. There was no way the wolves could have
survived a match-up with Laurent…
"Are you sure that's what happened to them?" I asked.
"Afraid so, honey. There was—" He hesitated. "There were tracks again, and… some blood this time."
"Oh!" It must not have come to a confrontation, then. Laurent must have simply outrun the wolves, but
why? What I'd seen in the meadow just got stranger and stranger—more impossible to understand.
"Look, I really have to go. Don't worry about Jake, Bella. I'm sure it's nothing."
"Fine," I said curtly, frustrated as his words reminded me of the more urgent crisis at hand. "Bye." I hang
up.
I stared at the phone for a long minute. What the hell, I decided.
Billy answered after two rings.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Billy," I almost growled. I tried to sound more friendly as I continued. "Can I talk to Jacob,
please?"
"Jake's not here."
What a shock. "Do you know where he is?"
"He's out with his friends." Billy's voice was careful.
"Oh yeah? Anyone I know? Quil?" I could tell the words didn't come across as casually as I'd meant
them to.
"No," Billy said slowly. "I don't think he's with Quil today."
I knew better than to mention Sam's name.
"Embry?" I asked.
Billy seemed happier to answer this one. "Yeah, he's with Embry."
That was enough for me. Embry was one of them.
"Well, have him call me when he gets in, all right?"
"Sure, sure. No problem." Click.
"See you soon, Billy," I muttered into the dead phone.
I drove to La Push determined to wait. I'd sit out front of his house all night if I had to. I'd miss school.
The boy was going to have to come home sometime, and when he did, he was going to have to talk to
me.
My mind was so preoccupied that the trip I'd been terrified of making seemed to take only a few
seconds. Before I was expecting it, the forest began to thin, and I knew I would soon be able to see the
first little houses of the reservation.
Walking away, along the left side of the road, was a tall boy with a baseball cap.
My breath caught for just a moment in my throat, hopeful that luck was with me for once, and I'd
srumbled across Jacob without hardly trying. But this boy was too wide, and the hair was short under the
hat. Even from behind, I was sure it was Quil, though he looked bigger than the last time I'd seen him.
What was with these Quileute boys? Were they feeding them experimental growth hormones?
I crossed over to the wrong side of the road to stop next to him. He looked up when the roar of my
truck approached.
Quil's expression frightened me more than it surprised me. His face was bleak, brooding, his forehead
creased with worry.
"Oh, hey, Bella," he greeted me dully.
"Hi, Quil… Are you okay?"
He stared at me morosely. "Fine."
"Can I give you a ride somewhere?" I offered.
"Sure, I guess," he mumbled. He shuffled around the front of the truck and opened the passenger door to
climb in.
"Where to?"
"My house is on the north side, back behind the store," he told me.
"Have you seen Jacob today." The question burst from me almost before he'd finished speaking.
I looked at Quil eagerly, waiting for his answer. He stared out the windshield for a second before he
spoke. "From a distance," he finally said.
"A distance?" I echoed.
"I tried to follow them—he was with Embry." His voice was low, hard to hear over the engine. I leaned
closer. "I know they saw me. But they turned and just disappeared into the trees. I don't think they were
alone—I think Sam and his crew might have been with them.
"I've been stumbling around in the forest for an hour, yelling for them. I just barely found the road again
when you drove up."
"So Sam did get to him." The words were a little distorted—my teeth were gritted together.
Quil stared at me. "You know about that.?"
I nodded. "Jake told me… before."
"Before," Quil repeated, and sighed.
"Jacob's just as bad as the others now?"
"Never leaves Sam's side." Quil turned his head and spit out the open window.
"And before that—did he avoid everyone? Was he acting upset?"
His voice was low and rough. "Not for as long as the others. Maybe one day. Then Sam caught up with
him."
"What do you think it is? Drugs or something?"
"I can't see Jacob or Embry getting into anything like that… but what do I know? What else could it be?
And why aren't the old people worried?" He shook his head, and the fear showed in his eyes now.
"Jacob didn't want to be a part of this… cult. I don't understand what could change him." He stared at
me, his face frightened. "I don't want to be next."
My eyes mirrored his fear. That was the second time I'd heard it described as a cult. I shivered. "Are
your parents any help?"
He grimaced. "Right. My grandfather's on the council with Jacob's dad. Sam Uley is the best thing that
ever happened to this place, as far as he's concerned."
We stared at each other for a prolonged moment. We were in La Push now, and my truck was barely
crawling along the empty road. I could see the village's only store not too far ahead.
"I'll get out now," Quil said. "My house is right over there." He gestured toward the small wooden
rectangle behind the store. I pulled over to the shoulder, and he jumped out.
"I'm going to go wait for Jacob," I told him in a hard voice.
"Good luck." He slammed the door and shuffled forward along the road, his head bent forward, his
shoulders slumped.
Quil's face haunted me as I made a wide U-turn and headed back toward the Blacks'. He was terrified
of being next. What was happening here?
I stopped in front of Jacob's house, killing the motor and rolling down the windows. It was stuffy today,
no breeze. I put my feet up on the dashboard and settled in to wait.
A movement flashed in my peripheral vision—I turned and spotted Billy looking at me through the front
window with a confused expression. I waved once and smiled a tight smile, but stayed where I was.
His eyes narrowed; he let the curtain fall across the glass.
I was prepared to stay as long as it took, but I wished I had something to do. I dug up a pen out of the
bottom of my backpack, and an old test. I started to doodle on the back of the scrap.
I'd only had time to scrawl one row of diamonds when there was a sharp tap against my door.
I jumped, looking up, expecting Billy.
"What are you doing here, Bella.'" Jacob growled.
I stared at him in blank astonishment.
Jacob had changed radically in the last weeks since I'd seen him. The first thing I noticed was his
hair—his beautiful hair was all gone, cropped quite short, covering his head with an inky gloss like black
satin. The planes of his face seemed to have hardened subtly, tightened… aged. His neck and his
shoulders were different, too, thicker somehow. His hands, where they gripped the window frame,
looked enormous, with the tendons and veins more prominent under the russet skin. But the physical
changes were insignificant.
It was his expression that made him almost completely unrecognizable. The open, friendly smile was gone
like the hair, the warmth in his dark eyes altered to a brooding resentment that was instantly disturbing.
There was a darkness in Jacob now. Like my sun had imploded.
"Jacob?" I whispered.
He just stared at me, his eyes tense and angry.
I realized we weren't alone. Behind him stood four others; all tall and russet-skinned, black hair chopped
short just like Jacob's. They could have been brothers—I couldn't even pick Embry out of the group.
The resemblance was only intensified by the strikingly similar hostility in every pair of eyes.
Every pair but one. The oldest by several years, Sam stood in the very back, his face serene and sure. I
had to swallow back the bile that rose in my throat. I wanted to take a swing at him. No, I wanted to do
more than that. More than anything, I wanted to be fierce and deadly, someone no one would dare mess
with. Someone who would scare Sam Uley silly.
I wanted to be a vampire.
The violent desire caught me off guard and knocked the wind out of me. It was the most forbidden of all
wishes—even when I only wished it for a malicious reason like this, to gain an advantage over an
enemy—because it was the most painful. That future was lost to me forever, had never really been within
my grasp. I scrambled to gain control of myself while the hole in my chest ached hollowly.
"What do you want?" Jacob demanded, his expression growing more resentful as he watched the play of
emotion across my face.
"I want to talk to you," I said in a weak voice. I tried to focus, but I was still reeling against the escape of
my taboo dream.
"Go ahead," he hissed through his teeth. His glare was vicious. I'd never seen him look at anyone like
that, least of all me. It hurt with a surprising intensity—a physical pain, a stabbing in my head.
"Alone!" I hissed, and my voice was stronger.
He looked behind him, and I knew where his eyes would go. Every one of them was turned for Sam's
reaction.
Sam nodded once, his face unperturbed. He made a brief comment in an unfamiliar, liquid language—I
could only be positive that it wasn't French or Spanish, but I guessed that it was Quileute. He turned and
walked into Jacob's house. The others, Paul, Jared, and Embry, I assumed, followed him in.
"Okay." Jacob seemed a bit less furious when the others were gone. His face was a little calmer, but also
more hopeless. His mouth seemed permanently pulled down at the corners.
I took a deep breath. "You know what I want to know."
He didn't answer. He just stared at me bitterly.
I stared back and the silence stretched on. The pain in his face unnerved me. I felt a lump beginning to
build in my throat.
"Can we walk?" I asked while I could still speak.
He didn't respond in any way; his face didn't change.
I got out of the car, feeling unseen eyes behind the windows on me, and started walking toward the trees
to the north. My feet squished in the damp grass and mud beside the road, and, as that was the only
sound, at first I thought he wasn't following me. But when I glanced around, he was right beside me, his
feet having somehow found a less noisy path than mine.
I felt better in the fringe of trees, where Sam couldn't possibly be watching. As we walked, I struggled for
the right thing to say, but nothing came. I just got more and more angry that Jacob had gotten sucked
in… that Billy had allowed this… that Sam was able to stand there so assured and calm…
Jacob suddenly picked up the pace, striding ahead of me easily with his long legs, and then swinging
around to face me, planting himself in my path so I would have to stop too.
I was distracted by the overt grace of his movement. Jacob had been nearly as klutzy as me with his
never-ending growth spurt. When did that changed?
But Jacob didn't give me time to think about it.
"Let's get this over with," he said in a hard, husky voice.
I waited. He knew what I wanted.
"It's not what you think." His voice was abruptly weary. "It's not what I thought—I was way off."
"So what is it, then?"
He studied my face for a long moment, speculating. The anger never completely left his eyes. "I can't tell
you," he finally said.
My jaw tightened, and I spoke through my teeth. "I thought we were friends."
"We were." There was a slight emphasis on the past tense.
"But you don't need friends anymore," I said sourly. "You have Sam. Isn't that nice—you've always
looked up to him so much."
"I didn't understand him before."
"And now you've seen the light. Hallelujah."
"It wasn't like I thought it was. This isn't Sam's fault. He's helping me as much as he can." His voice
turned brittle and he looked over my head, past me, rage burning out from his eyes.
"He's helping you," I repeated dubiously. "Naturally."
But Jacob didn't seem to be listening. He was taking deep, deliberate breaths, trying to calm himself. He
was so mad that his hands were shaking.
"Jacob, please," I whispered "Won't you tell me what happened? Maybe I can help."
"No one can help me now." The words were a low moan; his voice broke.
"What did he do to you?" I demanded, tears collecting in my eyes. I reached out to him, as I had once
before, stepping forward with my arms wide.
This time he cringed away, holding his hands up defensively. "Don't touch me," he whispered.
"Is Sam catching?" I mumbled. The stupid tears had escaped the corners of my eyes. I wiped them away
with the back of my hand, and folded my arms across my chest.
"Stop blaming Sam." The words came out fast, like a reflex. His hands reached up to twist around the
hair that was no longer there, and then fell limply at his sides.
"Then who should I blame?" I retorted.
He halfway smiled; it was a bleak, twisted thing.
"You don't want to hear that."
"The hell I don't!" I snapped. "I want to know, and I want to know now."
"You're wrong," he snapped back.
"Don't you dare tell me I'm wrong—I'm not the one who got brainwashed! Tell me now whose fault this
all is, if it's not your precious Sam!"
"You asked for it," he growled at me, eyes glinting hard. "If you want to blame someone, why don't you
point your finger at those filthy, reeking bloodsuckers that you love so much?"
My mouth fell open and my breath came out with a whooshing sound. I was frozen in place, stabbed
through with his double-edged words. The pain twisted in familiar patterns through my body, the jagged
hole ripping me open from the inside out, but it was second place, background music to the chaos of my
thoughts. I couldn't believe that I'd heard him correctly. There was no trace of indecision in his face. Only
fury.
My mouth still hung wide.
"I told you that you didn't want to hear it," he said.
"I don't understand who you mean," I whispered.
He raised one eyebrow in disbelief. "I think you understand exactly who I mean. You're not going to
make me say it, are you? I don't like hurting you."
"I don't understand who you mean," I repeated mechanically.
"The Cullens," he said slowly, drawing out the word, scrutinizing my face as he spoke it. "I saw that—I
can see in your eyes what it does to you when I say their name."
I shook my head back and forth in denial, trying to clear it at the same time. How did he know this? And
how did it have anything to do with Sam's cult? Was it a gang of vampire-haters? What was the point of
forming such a society when no vampires lived in Forks anymore? Why would Jacob start believing the
stories about the Cullens now, when the evidence of them was long gone, never to return?
It took me too long to come up with the correct response. "Don't tell me you're listening to Billy's
superstitious nonsense now," I said with a feeble attempt at mockery.
"He knows more than I gave him credit for."
"Be serious, Jacob."
He glared at me, his eyes critical.
"Superstitions aside," I said quickly. "I still don't see what you're accusing the... Cullens"—wince—"of.
They left more than half a year ago. How can you blame them for what Sam is doing now?"
"Sam isn't doing anything, Bella. And I know they're gone. But sometimes… things are set in motion, and
then it's too late."
"What's set in motion? What's too late? What are you blaming them for?"
He was suddenly right in my face, his fury glowing in his eyes. "For existing," he hissed.
I was surprised and distracted as the warning words came in Edward's voice again, when I wasn't even
scared.
"Quiet now, Bella. Don't push him," Edward cautioned in my ear.
Ever since Edward's name had broken through the careful walls I'd buried it behind, I'd been unable to
lock it up again. It didn't hurt now—not during the precious seconds when I could hear his voice.
Jacob was fuming in front of me, quivering with anger.
I didn't understand why the Edward delusion was unexpectedly in my mind. Jacob was livid, but he was
Jacob. There was no adrenaline, no danger.
"Give him a chance to calm down," Edward's voice insisted.
I shook my head in confusion. "You're being ridiculous," I told them both.
"Fine," Jacob answered, breathing deeply again. "I won't argue it with you. It doesn't matter anyway, the
damage is done."
"What damage?"
He didn't flinch as I shouted the words in his face.
"Let's head back. There's nothing more to say."
I gaped. "There's everything more to say! You haven't said anything yet!"
He walked past me, striding back toward the house.
"I ran into Quil today," I yelled after him.
He paused midstep, but didn't turn.
"You remember your friend, Quil? Yeah, he's terrified."
Jacob whirled to face me. His expression was pained. "Quil" was all he said.
"He's worried about you, too. He's freaked out."
Jacob stared past me with desperate eyes.
I goaded him further. "He's frightened that he's next."
Jacob clutched at a tree for support, his face turning a strange shade of green under the red-brown
surface. "He won't be next," Jacob muttered to himself. "He can't be. It's over now. This shouldn't still be
happening. Why? Why?" His fist slammed against the tree. It wasn't a big tree, slender and only a few
feet taller than Jacob. But it still surprised me when tht trunk gave way and snapped off loudly under his
blows.
Jacob stared at the sharp, broken point with shock that quickly turned to horror.
"I have to get back." He whirled and stalked away so swiftly that I had to jog to keep up.
"Back to Sam!"
"That's one way of looking at it," it sounded like he said. He was mumbling and facing away.
I chased him back to the truck. "Wait!" I called as he turned toward the house.
He spun around to face me, and I saw that his hands were shaking again.
"Go home, Bella. I can't hang out with you anymore."
The silly, inconsequential hurt was incredibly potent. The tears welled up again. "Are you… breaking up
with me?" The words were all wrong, but they were the best way I could think to phrase what I was
asking. After all, what Jake and I had was more than any schoolyard romance. Stronger.
He barked out a bitter laugh. "Hardly. If that were the case, I'd say 'Let's stay friends.' I can't even say
that."
"Jacob… why? Sam won't let you have other friends? Please, Jake. You promised. I need you!" The
blank emptiness of my life before—before Jacob brought some semblance of reason back into
it—reared up and confronted me. Loneliness choked in my throat.
"I'm sorry, Bella," Jacob said each word distinctly in a cold voice that didn't seem to belong to him.
I didn't believe that this was really what Jacob wanted to say. It seemed like there was something else
trying to be said through his angry eyes, but I couldn't understand the message.
Maybe this wasn't about Sam at all. Maybe this had nothing to do with the Cullens. Maybe he was just
trying to pull himself out of a hopeless situation. Maybe I should let him do that, if that's what was best for
him. I should do that. It would be right.
But I heard my voice escaping in a whisper.
"I'm sorry that I couldn't… before… I wish I could change how I feel about you, Jacob." I was
desperate, reaching, stretching the truth so far that it curved nearly into the shape of a lie. "Maybe…
maybe I would change," I whispered. "Maybe, if you gave me some time… just don't quit on me now,
Jake. I can't take it."
His face went from anger to agony in a second. One shaking hand reached out toward me.
"No. Don't think like that, Bella, please. Don't blame yourself, don't think this is your fault. This one is all
me. I swear, it's not about you."
"It's not you, it's me," I whispered. "There's a new one."
"I mean it, Bella. I'm not…" he struggled, his voice going even huskier as he fought to control his emotion.
His eyes were tortured. "I'm not good enough to be your friend anymore, or anything else. I'm not what I
was before. I'm not good."
"What?" I stared at him, confused and appalled. "What are you saying? You're much better than I am,
Jake. You are good! Who told you that you aren't? Sam? It's a vicious lie, Jacob! Don't let him tell you
that!" I was suddenly yelling again.
Jacob's face went hard and flat. "No one had to tell me anything. I know what I am."
"You're my friend, that's what you are! Jake—don't!"
He was backing away from me.
"I'm sorry, Bella," he said again; this time it was a broken mumble. He turned and almost ran into the
house.
I was unable to move from where I stood. I stared at the little house; it looked too small to hold four
large boys and two larger men. There was no reaction inside. No flutter at the edge of the curtain, no
sound of voices or movement. It faced me vacantly.
The rain started to drizzle, stinging here and there against my skin. I couldn't take my eyes off the house.
Jacob would come back. He had to.
The rain picked up, and so did the wind. The drops were no longer falling from above; they slanted at an
angle from the west. I could smell the brine from the ocean. My hair whipped in my face, sticking to the
wet places and tangling in my lashes. I waited.
Finally the door opened, and I took a step forward in relief.
Billy rolled his chair into the door frame. I could see no one behind him.
"Charlie just called, Bella. I told him you were on your way home." His eyes were full of pity.
The pity made it final somehow. I didn't comment. I just turned robotically and climbed in my truck. I'd
left the windows open and the seats were slick and wet. It didn't matter. I was already soaked.
Not as bad! Not as bad! my mind tried to comfort me. It was true. This wasn't as bad. This wasn't the
end of the world, not again. This was just the end of what little peace there was left behind. That was all.
Not as bad, I agreed, then added, but bad enough.
I'd thought Jake had been healing the hole in me—or at least plugging it up, keeping it from hurting me so
much. I'd been wrong. He'd just been carving out his own hole, so that I was now riddled through like
Swiss cheese. I wondered why I didn't crumble into pieces.
Charlie was waiting on the porch. As I rolled to a stop, he walked out to meet me.
"Billy called. He said you got in fight with Jake—said you were pretty upset," he explained as he opened
my door for me.
Then he looked at my face. A kind of horrified recognition registered in his expression. I tried to feel my
face from the inside out, to know what he was seeing. My face felt empty and cold, and I realized what it
would remind him of.
"That's not exactly how it happened," I muttered.
Charlie put his arm around me and helped me out of the car. He didn't comment on my sodden clothes.
"Then what did happen'" he asked when we were inside. He pulled the afghan off the back of the sofa as
he spoke and wrapped it around my shoulders. I realized I was shivering still.
My voice was lifeless. "Sam Uley says Jacob can't be my friend anymore."
Charlie shot me a strange look. "Who told you that?"
"Jacob," I stated, though that wasn't exactly what he'd said. It was still true.
Charlie's eyebrows pulled together. "You really think there's something wrong with the Uley kid?"
"I know there is. Jacob wouldn't tell me what, though." I could hear the water from my clothes dripping
to the floor and splashing on the linoleum. "I'm going to go change."
Charlie was lost in thought. "Okay," he said absently.
I decided to take a shower because I was so cold, but the hot water didn't seem to affect the
temperature of my skin. I was still freezing when I gave up and shut the water off. In the sudden quiet, I
could hear Charlie talking to someone downstairs. I wrapped a towel around me, and cracked the
bathroom door.
Charlie's voice was angry. "I'm not buying that. It doesn't make any sense."
It was quiet then, and I realized he was on the phone. A minute passed.
"Don't you put this on Bella!" Charlie suddenly shouted.
I jumped. When he spoke again, his voice was careful and lower. "Bella's made it very clear all along that
she and Jacob were just friends… Well, if that was it, then why didn't you say so at first? No, Billy, I
think she's right about this… Because I know my daughter, and if she says Jacob was scared before—"
He was cut off mid-sentence, and when he answered he was almost shouting again.
"What do you mean I don't know my daughter as well as I think I do!" He listened for a brief second,
and his response was almost too low for me to hear. "If you think I'm going to remind her about that, then
you had better think again. She's only just starting to get over it, and mostly because of Jacob, I think. If
whatever Jacob has going on with this Sam character sends her back into that depression, then Jacob is
going to have to answer to me. You're my friend, Billy, but this is hurting my family."
There was another break for Billy to respond.
"You got that right—those boys set one toe out of line and I'm going to know about it. We'll be keeping
an eye on the situation, you can be sure of that." He was no longer Charlie; he was Chief Swan now.
"Fine. Yeah. Goodbye." The phone slammed into the cradle.
I tiptoed quickly across the hall into my room. Charlie was muttering angrily in the kitchen.
So Billy was going to blame me. I was leading Jacob on and he'd finally had enough.
It was strange, for I'd feared that myself, but after the last thing Jacob had said this afternoon, I didn't
believe it anymore. There was much more to this than an unrequited crush, and it surprised me that Billy
would stoop to claiming that. It made me think that whatever secret they were keeping was bigger than
I'd been imagining. At least Charlie was on my side now.
I put my pajamas on and crawled into bed. Life seemed dark enough at the moment chat I let myself
cheat. The hole—holes now—were already aching, so why not? I pulled out the memory—nor a real
memory that would hurt too much, but the false memory of Edward's voice in my mind this
afternoon—and played it over and over in my head until I fell asleep with the tears still streaming calmly
down my empty face.
It was a new dream tonight. Rain was falling and Jacob was walking soundlessly beside me, though
beneath my feet the ground crunched like dry gravel. But he wasn't my Jacob; he was the new, bitter,
graceful Jacob. The smooth suppleness of his walk reminded me of someone else, and, as I watched, his
features started to change. The russet color of his skin leached away, leaving his face pale white like
bone. His eyes turned gold, and then crimson, and then back to gold again. His shorn hair twisted in the
breeze, turning bronze where the wind touched it. And his face became so beautiful that it shattered my
heart. I reached for him, but he took a step away, raising his hands like a shield. And then Edward
vanished.
I wasn't sure, when I woke in the dark, if I'd just begun crying, or if my tears had run while I slept and
simply continued now. I stared at my dark ceiling. I could feel that it was the middle of the night—I was
still half-asleep, maybe more than half. I closed my eyes wearily and prayed for a dreamless sleep.
That's when I heard the noise that must have wakened me in the first place. Something sharp scraped
along the length of my window with a high-pitched squeal, like fingernails against the glass.
Part 10: The Meadow
10. THE MEADOW
JACOB DIDN'T CALL.
The first time I called, Billy answered and told me that Jacob was still in bed. I got nosy, checking to
make sure that Billy had taken him to a doctor. Billy said he had, but, for some reason I couldn't nail
down, I didn't really believe him. I called again, several times a day, for the next two days, but no one
was ever there.
Saturday, I decided to go see him, invitation be damned. But the little red house was empty. This
frightened me—was Jacob so sick that he'd needed to go to the hospital? I stopped by the hospital on
the way back home, but the nurse at the front desk told me neither Jacob or Billy had been in.
I made Charlie call Harry Clearwater as soon as he got home from work. I waited, anxious, while
Charlie chatted with his old friend; the conversation seemed to go on forever without Jacob even being
mentioned. It seemed that Harry had been in the hospital . . some kind of tests for his heart. Charlie's
forehead got all pinched together, but Harry joked with him, blowing it off, until Charlie was laughing
again. Only then did Charlie ask about Jacob, and now his side of the conversation didn't give me much
to work with, just a lot of hmms and yeahs. I drummed my fingers against the counter beside him until he
put a hand over mine to stop me.
Finally, Charlie hung up the phone and turned to me.
"Harry says there's been some trouble with the phone lines, and that's why you haven't been able to get
through. Billy took Jake to the doc down there, and it looks like he has mono. He's real tired, and Billy
said no visitors," he reported.
"No visitors?" I demanded in disbelief.
Charlie raised one eyebrow. "Now don't you go making a pest of yourself, Bells. Billy knows what's best
for Jake. He'll be up and around soon enough. Be patient."
I didn't push it. Charlie was too worried about Harry. That was clearly the more important issue—it
wouldn't be right to bug him with my lesser concerns. Instead, I went straight upstairs and turned on my
computer. I found a medical site online and typed "mononucleosis" into the search box.
All I knew about mono was that you were supposed to get it from kissing, which was clearly not the case
with Jake. I read through the symptoms quickly—the fever he definitely had, but what about the rest of
it? No horrible sore throat, no exhaustion, no headaches, at least not before he'd gone home from the
movie; he'd said he felt "fit as a fiddle." Did it really come on so fast? The article made it sound like the
sore stuff showed up first.
I glared at the computer screen and wondered why, exactly, I was doing this. Why did I feel so… so
suspicious, like I didn't believe Billy's story? Why would Billy lie to Harry?
I was being silly, probably. I was just worried, and, to be honest, I was afraid of not being allowed to see
Jacob—that made me nervous.
I skimmed through the rest of the article, looking for more information. I stopped when I got to the part
about how mono could last more than a month.
A month? My mouth fell open.
But Billy couldn't enforce the no-visitors thing that long. Of course not. Jake would go crazy stuck in bed
that long without anyone to talk to.
What was Billy afraid of, anyway? The article said that a person with mono needed to avoid physical
activity, but there was nothing about visitors. The disease wasn't very infectious.
I'd give Billy a week, I decided, before I got pushy. A week was generous.
A week was long. By Wednesday, I was sure I wasn't going to live till Saturday.
When I'd decided to leave Billy and Jacob alone for a week, I hadn't really believed that Jacob would go
along with Billy's rule. Every day when I got home from school, I ran to the phone to check for
messages. There never were any.
I cheated three times by trying to call him, but the phone lines still weren't working.
I was in the house much too much, and much too alone. Without Jacob, and my adrenaline and my
distractions, everything I'd been repressing started creeping up on me. The dreams got hard again. I
could no longer see the end coming. Just the horrible nothingness—half the time in the forest, half the time
in the empty fern sea where the white house no longer existed. Sometimes Sam Uley was there in the
forest, watching me again. I paid him no attention—there was no comfort in his presence; it made me feel
no less alone. It didn't stop me from screaming myself awake, night after night.
The hole in my chest was worse than ever. I'd thought that I'd been getting it under control, but I found
myself hunched over, day after day, clutching my sides together and gasping for air.
I wasn't handling alone well.
I was relieved beyond measure the morning I woke up—screaming, of course—and remembered that it
was Saturday. Today I could call Jacob. And if the phone lines still weren't working, then I was going to
La Push. One way or another, today would be better than the last lonely week.
I dialed, and then waited without high expectations.
It caught me off guard when Billy answered on the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Oh, hey, the phone is working again! Hi, Billy. It's Bella. I was just calling to see how Jacob is doing. Is
he up for visitors yet? I was thinking about dropping by—"
"I'm sorry, Bella," Billy interrupted, and I wondered if he were watching TV; he sounded distracted.
"He's not in."
"Oh." It took me a second. "So he's feeling better then?"
"Yeah," Billy hesitated for an instant too long. "Turns out it wasn't mono after all. Just some other virus."
"Oh. So… where is he?"
"He's giving some friends a ride up to Port Angeles—I think they were going to catch a double feature or
something. He's gone for the whole day."
"Well, that's a relief. I've been so worried. I'm glad he felt good enough to get out." My voice sounded
horribly phony as I babbled on.
Jacob was better, but not well enough to call me. He was out with friends. I was sitting home, missing
him more every hour. I was lonely, worried, bored… perforated—and now also desolate as I realized
that the week apart had not had the same effect on him.
"Is there anything in particular you wanted?" Billy asked politely.
"No, not really."
"Well, I'll tell him that you called," Billy promised. "Bye, Bella."
"Bye," I replied, but he'd already hung up.
I stood for a moment with the phone still in my hand.
Jacob must have changed his mind, just like I'd feared. He was going to take my advice and not waste
any more time on someone who couldn't return his feelings. I felt the blood run out of my face.
"Something wrong?" Charlie asked as he came down the stairs.
"No," I lied, hanging up the phone. "Billy says Jacob is feeling better. It wasn't mono. So that's good."
"Is he coming here, or are you going there?" Charlie asked absentmindedly as he started poking through
the fridge.
"Neither," I admitted. "He's going out with some other friends."
The tone of my voice finally caught Charlie's attention. He looked up at me with sudden alarm, his hands
frozen around a package of cheese slices.
"Isn't it a little early for lunch?" I asked as lightly as I could manage, trying to distract him.
"No, I'm just packing something to take out to the river…"
"Oh, fishing today?"
"Well, Harry called… and it's not raining." He was creating a stack of food on the counter as he spoke.
Suddenly he looked up again as if he'd just realized something. "Say, did you want me to stay with you,
since Jake's out?"
"That's okay, Dad," I said, working to sound indifferent. "The fish bite better when the weather's nice."
He stared at me, indecision clear on his face. I knew that he was worrying, afraid to leave me alone, in
case I got "mopey" again.
"Seriously, Dad. I think I'll call Jessica," I fibbed quickly. I'd rather be alone than have him watching me
all day. "We have a Calculus test to study for. I could use her help." That part was true. But I'd have to
make do without it.
"That's a good idea. You've been spending so much time with Jacob, your other friends are going to think
you've forgotten them."
I smiled and nodded as if I cared what my other friends thought.
Charlie started to turn, but then spun back with a worried expression. "Hey, you'll study here or at Jess's,
right?"
"Sure, where else?"
"Well, it's just that I want you to be careful to stay out of the woods, like I told you before."
It took me a minute to understand, distracted as I was. "More bear trouble?"
Charlie nodded, frowning. "We've got a missing hiker—the rangers found his camp early this morning,
but no sign of him. There were some really big animal prints… of course those could have come later,
smelling the food… Anyway, they're setting traps for it now."
"Oh," I said vaguely. I wasn't really listening to his warnings; I was much more upset by the situation with
Jacob than by the possibility of being eaten by a bear.
I was glad that Charlie was in a hurry. He didn't wait for me to call Jessica, so I didn't have to put on that
charade. I went through the motions of gathering my school-books on the kitchen table to pack them in
my bag; that was probably too much, and if he hadn't been eager to hit the holes, it might have made him
suspicious.
I was so busy looking busy that the ferociously empty day ahead didn't really crash down on me until
after I'd watched him drive away. It only took about two minutes of staring at the silent kitchen phone to
decide that I wasn't staying home today. I considered my options.
I wasn't going to call Jessica. As far as I could tell, Jessica had crossed over to the dark side.
I could drive to La Push and get my motorcycle—an appealing thought but for one minor problem: who
was going to drive me to the emergency room if I needed it afterward?
Or… I already had our map and compass in the truck. I was pretty sure I understood the process well
enough by now that I wouldn't get lost. Maybe I could eliminate two lines today, putting us ahead of
schedule for whenever Jacob decided to honor me with his presence again. I refused to think about how
long that might be. Or if it was going to be never.
I felt a brief twinge of guilt as I realized how Charlie would feel about this, but I ignored it. I just couldn't
stay in the house again today.
A few minutes later I was on the familiar dirt road that led to nowhere in particular. I had the windows
rolled down and I drove as fast as was healthy for my truck, trying to enjoy the wind against my face. It
was cloudy, but almost dry—a very nice day, for Forks.
Getting started took me longer than it would have taken Jacob. After I parked in the usual spot, I had to
spend a good fifteen minutes studying the little needle on the compass face and the markings on the now
worn map. When I was reasonably certain that I was following the right line of the web, I set off into the
woods.
The forest was full of life today, all the little creatures enjoying the momentary dryness. Somehow,
though, even with the birds chirping and cawing, the insects buzzing noisily around my head, and the
occasional scurry of the field mice through the shrubs, the forest seemed creepier today; it reminded me
of my most recent nightmare. I knew it was just because I was alone, missing Jacob's carefree whistle
and the sound of another pair of feet squishing across the damp ground.
The sense of unease grew stronger the deeper I got into the trees. Breathing started to get more
difficult—not because of exertion, but because I was having trouble with the stupid hole in my chest
again. I kept my arms tight around my torso and tried to banish the ache from my thoughts. I almost
turned around, but I hated to waste the effort I'd already expended.
The rhythm of my footsteps started to numb my mind and my pain as I trudged on. My breathing evened
out eventually, and I was glad I hadn't quit. I was getting better at this bushwhacking thing; I could tell I
was faster.
I didn't realize quite how much more efficiently I was moving. I thought I'd covered maybe four miles,
and I wasn't even starting to look around for it yet. And then, with an abruptness that disoriented me, I
stepped through a low arch made by two vine maples—pushing past the chest-high ferns—into the
meadow.
It was the same place, of that I was instantly sure. I'd never seen another clearing so symmetrical. It was
as perfectly round as if someone had intentionally created the flawless circle, tearing out the trees but
leaving no evidence of that violence in the waving grass. To the east, I could hear the stream bubbling
quietly.
The place wasn't nearly so stunning without the sunlight, but it was still very beautiful and serene. It was
the wrong season for wildflowers; the ground was thick with tall grass that swayed in the light breeze like
ripples across a lake.
It was the same place… but it didn't hold what I had been searching for.
The disappointment was nearly as instantaneous as the recognition. I sank down right where I was,
kneeling there at the edge of the clearing, beginning to gasp.
What was the point of going any farther? Nothing lingered here. Nothing more than the memories that I
could have called back whenever I wanted to, if I was ever willing to endure the corresponding
pain—the pain that had me now, had me cold. There was nothing special about this place without him. I
wasn't exactly sure what I'd hoped to feel here, but the meadow was empty of atmosphere, empty of
everything, just like everywhere else. Just like my nightmares. My head swirled dizzily.
At least I'd come alone. I felt a rush of thankfulness as I realized that. If I'd discovered the meadow with
Jacob… well, there was no way I could have disguised the abyss I was plunging into now. How could I
have explained the way I was fracturing into pieces, the way I had to curl into a ball to keep the empty
hole from tearing me apart? It was so much better that I didn't have an audience.
And I wouldn't have to explain to anyone why I was in such a hurry to leave, either. Jacob would have
assumed, after going to so much trouble to locate the stupid place, I would want to spend more than a
few seconds here. But I was already trying to find the strength to get to my feet again, forcing myself out
of the ball so that I could escape. There was too much pain in this empty place to bear—I would crawl
away if I had to.
How lucky that I was alone!
Alone. I repeated the word with grim satisfaction as I wrenched myself to my feet despite the pain. At
precisely that moment, a figure stepped out from the trees to the north, some thirty paces away.
A dizzying array of emotions shot through me in a second. The first was surprise; I was far from any trail
here, and I didn't expect company. Then, as my eyes focused on the motionless figure, seeing the utter
stillness, the pallid skin, a rush of piercing hope rocked through me. I suppressed it viciously, fighting
against the equally sharp lash of agony as my eyes continued to the face beneath the black hair, the face
that wasn't the one I wanted to see. Next was fear; this was not the face I grieved for, but it was close
enough for me to know that the man facing me was no stray hiker.
And finally, in the end, recognition.
"Laurent!" I cried in surprised pleasure.
It was an irrational response. I probably should have stopped at fear.
Laurent had been one of James's coven when we'd first met. He hadn't been involved with the hunt that
followed—the hunt where I was the quarry—but that was only because he was afraid; I was protected
by a bigger coven than his own. It would have been different if that wasn't the case—he'd had no
compunctions, at the time, against making a meal of me. Of course, he must have changed, because he'd
gone to Alaska to live with the other civilized coven there, the other family that refused to drink human
blood for ethical reasons. The other family like… but I couldn't let myself think the name.
Yes, fear would have made more sense, but all I felt was an overwhelming satisfaction. The meadow was
a magic place again. A darker magic than I'd expected, to be sure, but magic all the same. Here was the
connection I'd sought. The proof, however remote, that—somewhere in the same world where I lived—
he did exist.
It was impossible how exactly the same Laurent looked. I suppose it was very silly and human to expect
some kind of change in the last year. But there was something… I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
"Bella?" he asked, looking more astonished than I felt.
"You remember." I smiled. It was ridiculous that I should be so elated because a vampire knew my
name.
He grinned. "I didn't expect to see you here." He strolled toward me, his expression bemused.
"Isn't it the other way around? I do live here. I thought you'd gone to Alaska."
He stopped about ten paces away, cocking his head to the side. His face was the most beautiful face I'd
seen in what felt like an eternity. I studied his features with a strangely greedy sense of release. Here was
someone I didn't have to pretend for—someone who already knew everything I could never say.
"You're right," he agreed. "I did go to Alaska. Still, I didn't expect… When I found the Cullen place
empty, I thought they'd moved on."
"Oh." I bit my lip as the name set the raw edges of my wound throbbing. It took me a second to
compose myself. Laurent waited with curious eyes.
"They did move on," I finally managed to tell him.
"Hmm," he murmured. "I'm surprised they left you behind. Weren't you sort of a pet of theirs?" His eyes
were innocent of any intended offense.
I smiled wryly. "Something like that."
"Hmm," he said, thoughtful again.
At that precise moment, I realized why he looked the same—too much the same. After Carlisle told us
that Laurent had stayed with Tanya's family, I'd begun to picture him, on the rare occasions that I thought
of him at all, with the same golden eyes that the… Cullens—I forced the name out, wincing—had. That
all good vampires had.
I took an involuntary step back, and his curious, dark red eyes followed the movement.
"Do they visit often?" he asked, still casual, but his weight shifted toward me.
"Lie," the beautiful velvet voice whispered anxiously from my memory.
I started at the sound of his voice, but it should not have surprised me. Was I nor in the worst danger
imaginable? The motorcycle was safe as kittens next to this.
I did what the voice said to do.
"Now and again." I tried to make my voice light, relaxed. "The time seems longer to me, I imagine. You
know how they get distracted…" I was beginning to babble. I had to work to shut myself up.
"Hmm," he said again. "The house smelled like it had been vacant for a while…"
"You must lie better than that, Bella," the voice urged.
I tried. "I'll have to mention to Carlisle that you stopped by. He'll be sorry they missed your visit." I
pretended to deliberate for a second. "But I probably shouldn't mention it to… Edward, I suppose—" I
barely managed to say his name, and it twisted my expression on the way out, ruining my bluff "—he has
such a temper… well, I'm sure you remember. He's still touchy about the whole James thing." I rolled my
eyes and waved one hand dismissively, like it was all ancient history, but there was an edge of hysteria to
my voice. I wondered if he would recognize what it was.
"Is he really?" Laurent asked pleasantly… skeptically.
I kept my reply short, so that my voice wouldn't betray my panic. "Mm-hmm."
Laurent took a casual step to the side, gazing around at the little meadow. I didn't miss that the step
brought him closer to me. In my head, the voice responded with a low snarl.
"So how are things working out in Denali? Carlisle said you were staying with Tanya?" My voice was too
high.
The question made him pause. "I like Tanya very much," he mused. "And her sister Irina even more…
I've never stayed in one place for so long before, and I enjoy the advantages, the novelty of it. But, the
restrictions are difficult… I'm surprised that any of them can keep it up for long." He smiled at me
conspiratorially. "Sometimes I cheat."
I couldn't swallow. My foot started to ease back, but I froze when his red eyes flickered down to catch
the movement.
"Oh," I said in a faint voice. "Jasper has problems with that, too."
"Don't move," the voice whispered. I tried to do what he instructed. It was hard; the instinct to take flight
was nearly uncontrollable.
"Really?" Laurent seemed interested. "Is that why they left?"
"No," I answered honestly. "Jasper is more careful at home."
"Yes," Laurent agreed. "I am, too."
The step forward he took now was quite deliberate.
"Did Victoria ever find you?" I asked, breathless, desperate to distract him. It was the first question that
popped into my head, and I regretted it as soon as the words were spoken. Victoria—who had hunted
me with James, and then disappeared—was not someone I wanted to think of at this particular moment.
But the question did stop him.
"Yes," he said, hesitating on that step. "I actually came here as a favor to her." He made a face. "She
won't be happy about this."
"About what?" I said eagerly, inviting him to continue. He was glaring into the trees, away from me. I
took advantage of his diversion, taking a furtive step back.
He looked back at me and smiled—the expression made him look like a black-haired angel.
"About me killing you," he answered in a seductive purr.
I staggered back another step. The frantic growling in my head made it hard to hear.
"She wanted to save that part for herself," he went on blithely. "She's sort of… put out with you, Bella."
"Me?" I squeaked.
He shook his head and chuckled. "I know, it seems a little backward to me, too. But James was her
mate, and your Edward killed him."
Even here, on the point of death, his name tore against my unhealed wounds like a serrated edge.
Laurent was oblivious to my reaction. "She thought it more appropriate to kill you than Edward—fair
turnabout, mate for mate. She asked me to get the lay of the land for her, so to speak. I didn't imagine
you would be so easy to get to. So maybe her plan was flawed—apparently it wouldn't be the revenge
she imagined, since you must not mean very much to him if he left you here unprotected."
Another blow, another tear through my chest.
Laurent's weight shifted slightly, and I stumbled another step back.
He frowned. "I suppose she'll be angry, all the same."
"Then why not wait for her?" I choked out.
A mischievous grin rearranged his features. "Well, you've caught me at a bad time, Bella. I didn't come
to this place on Victoria's mission—I was hunting. I'm quite thirsty, and you do smell… simply
mouthwatering."
Laurent looked at me with approval, as if he meant it as a compliment.
"Threaten him," the beautiful delusion ordered, his voice distorted with dread.
"He'll know it was you," I whispered obediently. "You won't get away with this."
"And why not?" Laurent's smile widened. He gazed around the small opening in the trees. "The scent will
wash away with the next rain. No one will find your body—you'll simply go missing, like so many, many
other humans. There's no reason for Edward to think of me, if he cares enough to investigate. This is
nothing personal, let me assure you, Bella. Just thirst."
"Beg," my hallucination begged.
"Please," I gasped.
Laurent shook his head, his face kind. "Look at it this way, Bella. You're very lucky I was the one to find
you."
"Am I?" I mouthed, faltering another step back.
Laurent followed, lithe and graceful.
"Yes," he assured me. "I'll be very quick. You won't feel a thing, I promise. Oh, I'll lie to Victoria about
that later, naturally, just to placate her. But if you knew what she had planned for you, Bella…" He shook
his head with a slow movement, almost as if in disgust. "I swear you'd be thanking me for this."
I stared at him in horror.
He sniffed at the breeze that blew threads of my hair in his direction. "Mouthwatering," he repeated,
inhaling deeply.
I tensed for the spring, my eyes squinting as I cringed away, and the sound of Edward's furious roar
echoed distantly in the back of my head. His name burst through all the walls I'd built to contain it.
Edward, Edward, Edward. I was going to die. It shouldn't matter if I thought of him now. Edward, I
love you.
Through my narrowed eyes, I watched as Laurent paused in the act of inhaling and whipped his head
abruptly to the left. I was afraid to look away from him, to follow his glance, though he hardly needed a
distraction or any other trick to overpower me. I was too amazed to feel relief when he started slowly
backing away from me.
"I don't believe it," he said, his voice so low that I barely heard it.
I had to look then. My eyes scanned the meadow, searching for the interruption that had extended my life
by a few seconds. At first I saw nothing, and my gaze flickered back to Laurent. He was retreating more
quickly now, his eyes boring into the forest.
Then I saw it; a huge black shape eased out of the trees, quiet as a shadow, and stalked deliberately
toward the vampire. It was enormous—as tall as a horse, but thicker, much more muscular. The long
muzzle grimaced, revealing a line of dagger-like incisors. A grisly snarl rolled out from between the teeth,
rumbling across the clearing like a prolonged crack of thunder.
The bear. Only, it wasn't a bear at all. Still, this gigantic black monster had to be the creature causing all
the alarm. From a distance, anyone would assume it was a bear. What else could be so vast, so
powerfully built?
I wished I were lucky enough to see it from a distance. Instead, it padded silently through the grass a
mere ten feet from where I stood.
"Don't move an inch," Edward's voice whispered.
I stared at the monstrous creature, my mind boggling as I tried to put a name to it. There was a distinctly
canine cast to the shape of it, the way it moved. I could only think of one possibility, locked in horror as I
was. Yet I'd never imagined that a wolf could get so big.
Another growl rumbled in its throat, and I shuddered away from the sound.
Laurent was backing toward the edge of the trees, and, under the freezing terror, confusion swept
through me. Why was Laurent retreating? Granted, the wolf was monstrous in size, but it was just an
animal. What reason would a vampire have for fearing an animal? And Laurent was afraid. His eyes were
wide with horror, just like mine.
As if in answer to my question, suddenly the mammoth wolf was not alone. Flanking it on either side,
another two gigantic beasts prowled silently into the meadow. One was a deep gray, the other brown,
neither one quite as tall as the first. The gray wolf came through the trees only a few feet from me, its
eyes locked on Laurent.
Before I could even react, two more wolves followed, lined up in a V, like geese flying south. Which
meant that the rusty brown monster that shrugged through the brush last was close enough for me to
touch.
I gave an involuntary gasp and jumped back—which was the stupidest thing I could have done. I froze
again, waiting for the wolves to turn on me, the much weaker of the available prey. I wished briefly that
Laurent would get on with it and crush the wolf pack—it should be so simple for him. I guessed that,
between the two choices before me, being eaten by wolves was almost certainly the worse option.
The wolf closest to me, the reddish brown one, turned its head slightly at the sound of my gasp.
The wolf's eyes were dark, nearly black. It gazed at me for a fraction of a second, the deep eyes seeming
too intelligent for a wild animal.
As it stared at me, I suddenly thought of Jacob—again, with gratitude. At least I'd come here alone, to
this fairytale meadow filled with dark monsters. At least Jacob wasn't going to die, too. At least I
wouldn't have his death on my hands.
Then another low growl from the leader caused the russet wolf to whip his head around, back toward
Laurent.
Laurent was staring at the pack of monster wolves with unconcealed shock and fear. The first I could
understand. But I was stunned when, without warning, he spun and disappeared into the trees.
He ran away.
The wolves were after him in a second, sprinting across the open grass with a few powerful bounds,
snarling and snapping so loudly that my hands flew up instinctively to cover my ears. The sound faded
with surprising swiftness once they disappeared into the woods.
And then I was alone again.
My knees buckled under me, and I fell onto my hands, sobs building in my throat.
I knew I needed to leave, and leave now. How long would the wolves chase Laurent before they
doubled back for me? Or would Laurent turn on them? Would he be the one that came looking?
I couldn't move at first, though; my arms and legs were shaking, and I didn't know how to get back to
my feet.
My mind couldn't move past the fear, the horror or the confusion. I didn't understand what I'd just
witnessed.
A vampire should not have run from overgrown dogs like that. What good would their teeth be against
his granite skin?
And the wolves should have given Laurent a wide berth. Even if their extraordinary size had taught them
to fear nothing, it still made no sense that they would pursue him. I doubted his icy marble skin would
smell anything like food. Why would they pass up something warmblooded and weak like me to chase
after Laurent?
I couldn't make it add up.
A cold breeze whipped through the meadow, swaying the grass like something was moving through it.
I scrambled to my feet, backing away even though the wind brushed harmlessly past me. Stumbling in
panic, I turned and ran headlong into the trees.
The next few hours were agony. It took me three times as long to escape the trees as it had to get to the
meadow.
At first I paid no attention to where I was headed, focused only on what I was running from By the time I
collected myself enough to remember the compass, I was deep in the unfamiliar and menacing forest. My
hands were shaking so violently that I had to set the compass on the muddy ground to be able to read it.
Every few minutes I would stop to put the compass dowr and check that I was still heading northwest,
hearing—when the sounds weren't hidden behind the frantic squelching of my footsteps—the quiet
whisper of unseen things moving in the leaves.
The call of a jaybird made me leap back and fall into a thick stand of young spruce, scraping up my arms
and tangling my hair with sap. The sudden rush of a squirrel up a hemlock made me scream so loud it
hurt my own ears.
At last there was a break in the trees ahead. I came out onto the empty road a mile or so south of where
I'd left the truck. Exhausted as I was, I jogged up the lane until I found it. By the time I pulled myself into
the cab, I was sobbing again. I fiercely shoved down both stiff locks before I dug my keys out of my
pocket. The roar of the engine was comforting and sane. It helped me control the tears as I sped as fast
as my truck would allow toward the main highway.
I was calmer, but still a mess when I got home. Charlie's cruiser was in the driveway—I hadn't realized
how late it was. The sky was already dusky.
"Bella?" Charlie asked when I slammed the front door behind me and hastily turned the locks.
"Yeah, it's me." My voice was unsteady.
"Where have you been?" he thundered, appearing through the kitchen doorway with an ominous
expression.
I hesitated. He'd probably called the Stanleys. I'd better stick to the truth.
"I was hiking," I admitted.
His eyes were tight. "What happened to going to Jessica's?"
"I didn't feel like Calculus today."
Charlie folded his arms across his chest. "I thought I asked you to stay out of the forest."
"Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I won't do it again." I shuddered.
Charlie seemed to really look at me for the first time. I remembered that I had spent some time on the
forest floor today; I must be a mess.
"What happened?" Charlie demanded.
Again, I decided that the truth, or part of it anyway, was the best option. I was too shaken to pretend
that I'd spent an uneventful day with the flora and fauna.
"I saw the bear." I tried to say it calmly, but my voice was high and shaky. "It's not a bear, though—it's
some kind of wolf. And there are five of them. A big black one, and gray, and reddish-brown…"
Charlie's eyes grew round with horror. He strode quickly to me and grabbed the tops of my arms.
"Are you okay?"
My head bobbed in a weak nod.
"Tell me what happened."
"They didn't pay any attention to me. But aftet they were gone, I ran away and I fell down a lot."
He let go of my shoulders and wrapped his arms around me. For a long moment, he didn't say anything.
"Wolves," he murmured.
"What?"
"The rangers said the tracks were wrong for a bear—but wolves just don't get that big…"
"These were huge."
"How many did you say you saw?"
"Five."
Charlie shook his head, frowning with anxiety, He finally spoke in a tone that allowed no argument. "No
more hiking."
"No problem," I promised fervently.
Charlie called the station to report what I'd seen. I fudged a little bit about where exactly I'd seen the
wolves—claiming I'd been on the trail that led to the north. I didn't want my dad to know how deep I'd
gone into the forest against his wishes, and, more importantly, I didn't want anyone wandering near where
Laurent might be searching for me. The thought of it made me feel sick.
"Are you hungry?" he asked me when he hung up the phone.
I shook my head, though I must have been starving. I hadn't eaten all day.
"Just tired," I told him. I turned for the stairs.
"Hey," Charlie said, his voice suddenly suspicious again. "Didn't you say Jacob was gone for the day?"
"That's what Billy said," I told him, confused by his question.
He studied my expression for a minute, and seemed satisfied with what he saw there.
"Huh."
"Why?" I demanded. It sounded like he was implying that I'd been lying to him this morning. About
something besides studying with Jessica.
"Well, it's just that when I went to pick up Harry, I saw Jacob out in front of the store down there with
some of his friends. I waved hi, but he… well, I guess I don't know if he saw me. I think maybe he was
arguing with his friends. He looked strange, like he was upset about something. And… different. It's like
you can watch that kid growing! He gets bigger every time I see him."
"Billy said Jake and his friends were going up to Port Angeles to see some movies. They were probably
just waiting for someone to meet them."
"Oh." Charlie nodded and headed for the kitchen.
I stood in the hall, thinking about Jacob arguing with his friends. I wondered if he had confronted Embry
about the situation with Sam. Maybe that was the reason he'd ditched me today—if it meant he could
sort things out with Embry, I was glad he had.
I paused to check the locks again before I went to my room. It was a silly thing to do. What difference
would a lock make to any of the monsters I'd seen this afternoon? I assumed the handle alone would
stymie the wolves, not having opposable thumbs. And if Laurent came here…
Or… Victoria.
I lay down on my bed, but I was shaking too hard to hope for sleep. I curled into a cramped ball under
my quilt, and faced the horrifying facts.
There was nothing I could do. There were no precautions I could take. There was no place I could hide.
There was no one who could help me.
I realized, with a nauseous roll of my stomach, that the situation was worse than even that. Because all
those facts applied to Charlie, too. My father, sleeping one room away from me, was just a hairsbreadth
off the heart of the target that was centered on me. My scent would lead them here, whether I was here
or not.
The tremors rocked me until my teeth chattered.
To calm myself, I fantasized the impossible: I imagined the big wolves catching up to Laurent in the
woods and massacring the indestructible immortal the way they would any normal person. Despite the
absurdity of such a vision, the idea comforted me. If the wolves got him, then he couldn't tell Victoria I
was here all alone. If he didn't return, maybe she'd think the Cullens were still protecting me. If only the
wolves could win such a fight…
My good vampires were never coming back; how soothing it was to imagine that the other kind could
also disappear.
I squeezed my eyes tight together and waited for unconsciousness—almost eager for my nightmare to
start. Better that than the pale, beautiful face that smiled at me now from behind my lids.
In my imagination, Victoria's eyes were black with thirst, bright with anticipation, and her lips curled back
from her gleaming teeth in pleasure. Her red hair was brilliant as fire; it blew chaotically around her wild
face.
Laurent's words repeated in my head. If you knew what she had planned for you …
I pressed my fist against my mouth to keep from screaming.
JACOB DIDN'T CALL.
The first time I called, Billy answered and told me that Jacob was still in bed. I got nosy, checking to
make sure that Billy had taken him to a doctor. Billy said he had, but, for some reason I couldn't nail
down, I didn't really believe him. I called again, several times a day, for the next two days, but no one
was ever there.
Saturday, I decided to go see him, invitation be damned. But the little red house was empty. This
frightened me—was Jacob so sick that he'd needed to go to the hospital? I stopped by the hospital on
the way back home, but the nurse at the front desk told me neither Jacob or Billy had been in.
I made Charlie call Harry Clearwater as soon as he got home from work. I waited, anxious, while
Charlie chatted with his old friend; the conversation seemed to go on forever without Jacob even being
mentioned. It seemed that Harry had been in the hospital . . some kind of tests for his heart. Charlie's
forehead got all pinched together, but Harry joked with him, blowing it off, until Charlie was laughing
again. Only then did Charlie ask about Jacob, and now his side of the conversation didn't give me much
to work with, just a lot of hmms and yeahs. I drummed my fingers against the counter beside him until he
put a hand over mine to stop me.
Finally, Charlie hung up the phone and turned to me.
"Harry says there's been some trouble with the phone lines, and that's why you haven't been able to get
through. Billy took Jake to the doc down there, and it looks like he has mono. He's real tired, and Billy
said no visitors," he reported.
"No visitors?" I demanded in disbelief.
Charlie raised one eyebrow. "Now don't you go making a pest of yourself, Bells. Billy knows what's best
for Jake. He'll be up and around soon enough. Be patient."
I didn't push it. Charlie was too worried about Harry. That was clearly the more important issue—it
wouldn't be right to bug him with my lesser concerns. Instead, I went straight upstairs and turned on my
computer. I found a medical site online and typed "mononucleosis" into the search box.
All I knew about mono was that you were supposed to get it from kissing, which was clearly not the case
with Jake. I read through the symptoms quickly—the fever he definitely had, but what about the rest of
it? No horrible sore throat, no exhaustion, no headaches, at least not before he'd gone home from the
movie; he'd said he felt "fit as a fiddle." Did it really come on so fast? The article made it sound like the
sore stuff showed up first.
I glared at the computer screen and wondered why, exactly, I was doing this. Why did I feel so… so
suspicious, like I didn't believe Billy's story? Why would Billy lie to Harry?
I was being silly, probably. I was just worried, and, to be honest, I was afraid of not being allowed to see
Jacob—that made me nervous.
I skimmed through the rest of the article, looking for more information. I stopped when I got to the part
about how mono could last more than a month.
A month? My mouth fell open.
But Billy couldn't enforce the no-visitors thing that long. Of course not. Jake would go crazy stuck in bed
that long without anyone to talk to.
What was Billy afraid of, anyway? The article said that a person with mono needed to avoid physical
activity, but there was nothing about visitors. The disease wasn't very infectious.
I'd give Billy a week, I decided, before I got pushy. A week was generous.
A week was long. By Wednesday, I was sure I wasn't going to live till Saturday.
When I'd decided to leave Billy and Jacob alone for a week, I hadn't really believed that Jacob would go
along with Billy's rule. Every day when I got home from school, I ran to the phone to check for
messages. There never were any.
I cheated three times by trying to call him, but the phone lines still weren't working.
I was in the house much too much, and much too alone. Without Jacob, and my adrenaline and my
distractions, everything I'd been repressing started creeping up on me. The dreams got hard again. I
could no longer see the end coming. Just the horrible nothingness—half the time in the forest, half the time
in the empty fern sea where the white house no longer existed. Sometimes Sam Uley was there in the
forest, watching me again. I paid him no attention—there was no comfort in his presence; it made me feel
no less alone. It didn't stop me from screaming myself awake, night after night.
The hole in my chest was worse than ever. I'd thought that I'd been getting it under control, but I found
myself hunched over, day after day, clutching my sides together and gasping for air.
I wasn't handling alone well.
I was relieved beyond measure the morning I woke up—screaming, of course—and remembered that it
was Saturday. Today I could call Jacob. And if the phone lines still weren't working, then I was going to
La Push. One way or another, today would be better than the last lonely week.
I dialed, and then waited without high expectations.
It caught me off guard when Billy answered on the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Oh, hey, the phone is working again! Hi, Billy. It's Bella. I was just calling to see how Jacob is doing. Is
he up for visitors yet? I was thinking about dropping by—"
"I'm sorry, Bella," Billy interrupted, and I wondered if he were watching TV; he sounded distracted.
"He's not in."
"Oh." It took me a second. "So he's feeling better then?"
"Yeah," Billy hesitated for an instant too long. "Turns out it wasn't mono after all. Just some other virus."
"Oh. So… where is he?"
"He's giving some friends a ride up to Port Angeles—I think they were going to catch a double feature or
something. He's gone for the whole day."
"Well, that's a relief. I've been so worried. I'm glad he felt good enough to get out." My voice sounded
horribly phony as I babbled on.
Jacob was better, but not well enough to call me. He was out with friends. I was sitting home, missing
him more every hour. I was lonely, worried, bored… perforated—and now also desolate as I realized
that the week apart had not had the same effect on him.
"Is there anything in particular you wanted?" Billy asked politely.
"No, not really."
"Well, I'll tell him that you called," Billy promised. "Bye, Bella."
"Bye," I replied, but he'd already hung up.
I stood for a moment with the phone still in my hand.
Jacob must have changed his mind, just like I'd feared. He was going to take my advice and not waste
any more time on someone who couldn't return his feelings. I felt the blood run out of my face.
"Something wrong?" Charlie asked as he came down the stairs.
"No," I lied, hanging up the phone. "Billy says Jacob is feeling better. It wasn't mono. So that's good."
"Is he coming here, or are you going there?" Charlie asked absentmindedly as he started poking through
the fridge.
"Neither," I admitted. "He's going out with some other friends."
The tone of my voice finally caught Charlie's attention. He looked up at me with sudden alarm, his hands
frozen around a package of cheese slices.
"Isn't it a little early for lunch?" I asked as lightly as I could manage, trying to distract him.
"No, I'm just packing something to take out to the river…"
"Oh, fishing today?"
"Well, Harry called… and it's not raining." He was creating a stack of food on the counter as he spoke.
Suddenly he looked up again as if he'd just realized something. "Say, did you want me to stay with you,
since Jake's out?"
"That's okay, Dad," I said, working to sound indifferent. "The fish bite better when the weather's nice."
He stared at me, indecision clear on his face. I knew that he was worrying, afraid to leave me alone, in
case I got "mopey" again.
"Seriously, Dad. I think I'll call Jessica," I fibbed quickly. I'd rather be alone than have him watching me
all day. "We have a Calculus test to study for. I could use her help." That part was true. But I'd have to
make do without it.
"That's a good idea. You've been spending so much time with Jacob, your other friends are going to think
you've forgotten them."
I smiled and nodded as if I cared what my other friends thought.
Charlie started to turn, but then spun back with a worried expression. "Hey, you'll study here or at Jess's,
right?"
"Sure, where else?"
"Well, it's just that I want you to be careful to stay out of the woods, like I told you before."
It took me a minute to understand, distracted as I was. "More bear trouble?"
Charlie nodded, frowning. "We've got a missing hiker—the rangers found his camp early this morning,
but no sign of him. There were some really big animal prints… of course those could have come later,
smelling the food… Anyway, they're setting traps for it now."
"Oh," I said vaguely. I wasn't really listening to his warnings; I was much more upset by the situation with
Jacob than by the possibility of being eaten by a bear.
I was glad that Charlie was in a hurry. He didn't wait for me to call Jessica, so I didn't have to put on that
charade. I went through the motions of gathering my school-books on the kitchen table to pack them in
my bag; that was probably too much, and if he hadn't been eager to hit the holes, it might have made him
suspicious.
I was so busy looking busy that the ferociously empty day ahead didn't really crash down on me until
after I'd watched him drive away. It only took about two minutes of staring at the silent kitchen phone to
decide that I wasn't staying home today. I considered my options.
I wasn't going to call Jessica. As far as I could tell, Jessica had crossed over to the dark side.
I could drive to La Push and get my motorcycle—an appealing thought but for one minor problem: who
was going to drive me to the emergency room if I needed it afterward?
Or… I already had our map and compass in the truck. I was pretty sure I understood the process well
enough by now that I wouldn't get lost. Maybe I could eliminate two lines today, putting us ahead of
schedule for whenever Jacob decided to honor me with his presence again. I refused to think about how
long that might be. Or if it was going to be never.
I felt a brief twinge of guilt as I realized how Charlie would feel about this, but I ignored it. I just couldn't
stay in the house again today.
A few minutes later I was on the familiar dirt road that led to nowhere in particular. I had the windows
rolled down and I drove as fast as was healthy for my truck, trying to enjoy the wind against my face. It
was cloudy, but almost dry—a very nice day, for Forks.
Getting started took me longer than it would have taken Jacob. After I parked in the usual spot, I had to
spend a good fifteen minutes studying the little needle on the compass face and the markings on the now
worn map. When I was reasonably certain that I was following the right line of the web, I set off into the
woods.
The forest was full of life today, all the little creatures enjoying the momentary dryness. Somehow,
though, even with the birds chirping and cawing, the insects buzzing noisily around my head, and the
occasional scurry of the field mice through the shrubs, the forest seemed creepier today; it reminded me
of my most recent nightmare. I knew it was just because I was alone, missing Jacob's carefree whistle
and the sound of another pair of feet squishing across the damp ground.
The sense of unease grew stronger the deeper I got into the trees. Breathing started to get more
difficult—not because of exertion, but because I was having trouble with the stupid hole in my chest
again. I kept my arms tight around my torso and tried to banish the ache from my thoughts. I almost
turned around, but I hated to waste the effort I'd already expended.
The rhythm of my footsteps started to numb my mind and my pain as I trudged on. My breathing evened
out eventually, and I was glad I hadn't quit. I was getting better at this bushwhacking thing; I could tell I
was faster.
I didn't realize quite how much more efficiently I was moving. I thought I'd covered maybe four miles,
and I wasn't even starting to look around for it yet. And then, with an abruptness that disoriented me, I
stepped through a low arch made by two vine maples—pushing past the chest-high ferns—into the
meadow.
It was the same place, of that I was instantly sure. I'd never seen another clearing so symmetrical. It was
as perfectly round as if someone had intentionally created the flawless circle, tearing out the trees but
leaving no evidence of that violence in the waving grass. To the east, I could hear the stream bubbling
quietly.
The place wasn't nearly so stunning without the sunlight, but it was still very beautiful and serene. It was
the wrong season for wildflowers; the ground was thick with tall grass that swayed in the light breeze like
ripples across a lake.
It was the same place… but it didn't hold what I had been searching for.
The disappointment was nearly as instantaneous as the recognition. I sank down right where I was,
kneeling there at the edge of the clearing, beginning to gasp.
What was the point of going any farther? Nothing lingered here. Nothing more than the memories that I
could have called back whenever I wanted to, if I was ever willing to endure the corresponding
pain—the pain that had me now, had me cold. There was nothing special about this place without him. I
wasn't exactly sure what I'd hoped to feel here, but the meadow was empty of atmosphere, empty of
everything, just like everywhere else. Just like my nightmares. My head swirled dizzily.
At least I'd come alone. I felt a rush of thankfulness as I realized that. If I'd discovered the meadow with
Jacob… well, there was no way I could have disguised the abyss I was plunging into now. How could I
have explained the way I was fracturing into pieces, the way I had to curl into a ball to keep the empty
hole from tearing me apart? It was so much better that I didn't have an audience.
And I wouldn't have to explain to anyone why I was in such a hurry to leave, either. Jacob would have
assumed, after going to so much trouble to locate the stupid place, I would want to spend more than a
few seconds here. But I was already trying to find the strength to get to my feet again, forcing myself out
of the ball so that I could escape. There was too much pain in this empty place to bear—I would crawl
away if I had to.
How lucky that I was alone!
Alone. I repeated the word with grim satisfaction as I wrenched myself to my feet despite the pain. At
precisely that moment, a figure stepped out from the trees to the north, some thirty paces away.
A dizzying array of emotions shot through me in a second. The first was surprise; I was far from any trail
here, and I didn't expect company. Then, as my eyes focused on the motionless figure, seeing the utter
stillness, the pallid skin, a rush of piercing hope rocked through me. I suppressed it viciously, fighting
against the equally sharp lash of agony as my eyes continued to the face beneath the black hair, the face
that wasn't the one I wanted to see. Next was fear; this was not the face I grieved for, but it was close
enough for me to know that the man facing me was no stray hiker.
And finally, in the end, recognition.
"Laurent!" I cried in surprised pleasure.
It was an irrational response. I probably should have stopped at fear.
Laurent had been one of James's coven when we'd first met. He hadn't been involved with the hunt that
followed—the hunt where I was the quarry—but that was only because he was afraid; I was protected
by a bigger coven than his own. It would have been different if that wasn't the case—he'd had no
compunctions, at the time, against making a meal of me. Of course, he must have changed, because he'd
gone to Alaska to live with the other civilized coven there, the other family that refused to drink human
blood for ethical reasons. The other family like… but I couldn't let myself think the name.
Yes, fear would have made more sense, but all I felt was an overwhelming satisfaction. The meadow was
a magic place again. A darker magic than I'd expected, to be sure, but magic all the same. Here was the
connection I'd sought. The proof, however remote, that—somewhere in the same world where I lived—
he did exist.
It was impossible how exactly the same Laurent looked. I suppose it was very silly and human to expect
some kind of change in the last year. But there was something… I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
"Bella?" he asked, looking more astonished than I felt.
"You remember." I smiled. It was ridiculous that I should be so elated because a vampire knew my
name.
He grinned. "I didn't expect to see you here." He strolled toward me, his expression bemused.
"Isn't it the other way around? I do live here. I thought you'd gone to Alaska."
He stopped about ten paces away, cocking his head to the side. His face was the most beautiful face I'd
seen in what felt like an eternity. I studied his features with a strangely greedy sense of release. Here was
someone I didn't have to pretend for—someone who already knew everything I could never say.
"You're right," he agreed. "I did go to Alaska. Still, I didn't expect… When I found the Cullen place
empty, I thought they'd moved on."
"Oh." I bit my lip as the name set the raw edges of my wound throbbing. It took me a second to
compose myself. Laurent waited with curious eyes.
"They did move on," I finally managed to tell him.
"Hmm," he murmured. "I'm surprised they left you behind. Weren't you sort of a pet of theirs?" His eyes
were innocent of any intended offense.
I smiled wryly. "Something like that."
"Hmm," he said, thoughtful again.
At that precise moment, I realized why he looked the same—too much the same. After Carlisle told us
that Laurent had stayed with Tanya's family, I'd begun to picture him, on the rare occasions that I thought
of him at all, with the same golden eyes that the… Cullens—I forced the name out, wincing—had. That
all good vampires had.
I took an involuntary step back, and his curious, dark red eyes followed the movement.
"Do they visit often?" he asked, still casual, but his weight shifted toward me.
"Lie," the beautiful velvet voice whispered anxiously from my memory.
I started at the sound of his voice, but it should not have surprised me. Was I nor in the worst danger
imaginable? The motorcycle was safe as kittens next to this.
I did what the voice said to do.
"Now and again." I tried to make my voice light, relaxed. "The time seems longer to me, I imagine. You
know how they get distracted…" I was beginning to babble. I had to work to shut myself up.
"Hmm," he said again. "The house smelled like it had been vacant for a while…"
"You must lie better than that, Bella," the voice urged.
I tried. "I'll have to mention to Carlisle that you stopped by. He'll be sorry they missed your visit." I
pretended to deliberate for a second. "But I probably shouldn't mention it to… Edward, I suppose—" I
barely managed to say his name, and it twisted my expression on the way out, ruining my bluff "—he has
such a temper… well, I'm sure you remember. He's still touchy about the whole James thing." I rolled my
eyes and waved one hand dismissively, like it was all ancient history, but there was an edge of hysteria to
my voice. I wondered if he would recognize what it was.
"Is he really?" Laurent asked pleasantly… skeptically.
I kept my reply short, so that my voice wouldn't betray my panic. "Mm-hmm."
Laurent took a casual step to the side, gazing around at the little meadow. I didn't miss that the step
brought him closer to me. In my head, the voice responded with a low snarl.
"So how are things working out in Denali? Carlisle said you were staying with Tanya?" My voice was too
high.
The question made him pause. "I like Tanya very much," he mused. "And her sister Irina even more…
I've never stayed in one place for so long before, and I enjoy the advantages, the novelty of it. But, the
restrictions are difficult… I'm surprised that any of them can keep it up for long." He smiled at me
conspiratorially. "Sometimes I cheat."
I couldn't swallow. My foot started to ease back, but I froze when his red eyes flickered down to catch
the movement.
"Oh," I said in a faint voice. "Jasper has problems with that, too."
"Don't move," the voice whispered. I tried to do what he instructed. It was hard; the instinct to take flight
was nearly uncontrollable.
"Really?" Laurent seemed interested. "Is that why they left?"
"No," I answered honestly. "Jasper is more careful at home."
"Yes," Laurent agreed. "I am, too."
The step forward he took now was quite deliberate.
"Did Victoria ever find you?" I asked, breathless, desperate to distract him. It was the first question that
popped into my head, and I regretted it as soon as the words were spoken. Victoria—who had hunted
me with James, and then disappeared—was not someone I wanted to think of at this particular moment.
But the question did stop him.
"Yes," he said, hesitating on that step. "I actually came here as a favor to her." He made a face. "She
won't be happy about this."
"About what?" I said eagerly, inviting him to continue. He was glaring into the trees, away from me. I
took advantage of his diversion, taking a furtive step back.
He looked back at me and smiled—the expression made him look like a black-haired angel.
"About me killing you," he answered in a seductive purr.
I staggered back another step. The frantic growling in my head made it hard to hear.
"She wanted to save that part for herself," he went on blithely. "She's sort of… put out with you, Bella."
"Me?" I squeaked.
He shook his head and chuckled. "I know, it seems a little backward to me, too. But James was her
mate, and your Edward killed him."
Even here, on the point of death, his name tore against my unhealed wounds like a serrated edge.
Laurent was oblivious to my reaction. "She thought it more appropriate to kill you than Edward—fair
turnabout, mate for mate. She asked me to get the lay of the land for her, so to speak. I didn't imagine
you would be so easy to get to. So maybe her plan was flawed—apparently it wouldn't be the revenge
she imagined, since you must not mean very much to him if he left you here unprotected."
Another blow, another tear through my chest.
Laurent's weight shifted slightly, and I stumbled another step back.
He frowned. "I suppose she'll be angry, all the same."
"Then why not wait for her?" I choked out.
A mischievous grin rearranged his features. "Well, you've caught me at a bad time, Bella. I didn't come
to this place on Victoria's mission—I was hunting. I'm quite thirsty, and you do smell… simply
mouthwatering."
Laurent looked at me with approval, as if he meant it as a compliment.
"Threaten him," the beautiful delusion ordered, his voice distorted with dread.
"He'll know it was you," I whispered obediently. "You won't get away with this."
"And why not?" Laurent's smile widened. He gazed around the small opening in the trees. "The scent will
wash away with the next rain. No one will find your body—you'll simply go missing, like so many, many
other humans. There's no reason for Edward to think of me, if he cares enough to investigate. This is
nothing personal, let me assure you, Bella. Just thirst."
"Beg," my hallucination begged.
"Please," I gasped.
Laurent shook his head, his face kind. "Look at it this way, Bella. You're very lucky I was the one to find
you."
"Am I?" I mouthed, faltering another step back.
Laurent followed, lithe and graceful.
"Yes," he assured me. "I'll be very quick. You won't feel a thing, I promise. Oh, I'll lie to Victoria about
that later, naturally, just to placate her. But if you knew what she had planned for you, Bella…" He shook
his head with a slow movement, almost as if in disgust. "I swear you'd be thanking me for this."
I stared at him in horror.
He sniffed at the breeze that blew threads of my hair in his direction. "Mouthwatering," he repeated,
inhaling deeply.
I tensed for the spring, my eyes squinting as I cringed away, and the sound of Edward's furious roar
echoed distantly in the back of my head. His name burst through all the walls I'd built to contain it.
Edward, Edward, Edward. I was going to die. It shouldn't matter if I thought of him now. Edward, I
love you.
Through my narrowed eyes, I watched as Laurent paused in the act of inhaling and whipped his head
abruptly to the left. I was afraid to look away from him, to follow his glance, though he hardly needed a
distraction or any other trick to overpower me. I was too amazed to feel relief when he started slowly
backing away from me.
"I don't believe it," he said, his voice so low that I barely heard it.
I had to look then. My eyes scanned the meadow, searching for the interruption that had extended my life
by a few seconds. At first I saw nothing, and my gaze flickered back to Laurent. He was retreating more
quickly now, his eyes boring into the forest.
Then I saw it; a huge black shape eased out of the trees, quiet as a shadow, and stalked deliberately
toward the vampire. It was enormous—as tall as a horse, but thicker, much more muscular. The long
muzzle grimaced, revealing a line of dagger-like incisors. A grisly snarl rolled out from between the teeth,
rumbling across the clearing like a prolonged crack of thunder.
The bear. Only, it wasn't a bear at all. Still, this gigantic black monster had to be the creature causing all
the alarm. From a distance, anyone would assume it was a bear. What else could be so vast, so
powerfully built?
I wished I were lucky enough to see it from a distance. Instead, it padded silently through the grass a
mere ten feet from where I stood.
"Don't move an inch," Edward's voice whispered.
I stared at the monstrous creature, my mind boggling as I tried to put a name to it. There was a distinctly
canine cast to the shape of it, the way it moved. I could only think of one possibility, locked in horror as I
was. Yet I'd never imagined that a wolf could get so big.
Another growl rumbled in its throat, and I shuddered away from the sound.
Laurent was backing toward the edge of the trees, and, under the freezing terror, confusion swept
through me. Why was Laurent retreating? Granted, the wolf was monstrous in size, but it was just an
animal. What reason would a vampire have for fearing an animal? And Laurent was afraid. His eyes were
wide with horror, just like mine.
As if in answer to my question, suddenly the mammoth wolf was not alone. Flanking it on either side,
another two gigantic beasts prowled silently into the meadow. One was a deep gray, the other brown,
neither one quite as tall as the first. The gray wolf came through the trees only a few feet from me, its
eyes locked on Laurent.
Before I could even react, two more wolves followed, lined up in a V, like geese flying south. Which
meant that the rusty brown monster that shrugged through the brush last was close enough for me to
touch.
I gave an involuntary gasp and jumped back—which was the stupidest thing I could have done. I froze
again, waiting for the wolves to turn on me, the much weaker of the available prey. I wished briefly that
Laurent would get on with it and crush the wolf pack—it should be so simple for him. I guessed that,
between the two choices before me, being eaten by wolves was almost certainly the worse option.
The wolf closest to me, the reddish brown one, turned its head slightly at the sound of my gasp.
The wolf's eyes were dark, nearly black. It gazed at me for a fraction of a second, the deep eyes seeming
too intelligent for a wild animal.
As it stared at me, I suddenly thought of Jacob—again, with gratitude. At least I'd come here alone, to
this fairytale meadow filled with dark monsters. At least Jacob wasn't going to die, too. At least I
wouldn't have his death on my hands.
Then another low growl from the leader caused the russet wolf to whip his head around, back toward
Laurent.
Laurent was staring at the pack of monster wolves with unconcealed shock and fear. The first I could
understand. But I was stunned when, without warning, he spun and disappeared into the trees.
He ran away.
The wolves were after him in a second, sprinting across the open grass with a few powerful bounds,
snarling and snapping so loudly that my hands flew up instinctively to cover my ears. The sound faded
with surprising swiftness once they disappeared into the woods.
And then I was alone again.
My knees buckled under me, and I fell onto my hands, sobs building in my throat.
I knew I needed to leave, and leave now. How long would the wolves chase Laurent before they
doubled back for me? Or would Laurent turn on them? Would he be the one that came looking?
I couldn't move at first, though; my arms and legs were shaking, and I didn't know how to get back to
my feet.
My mind couldn't move past the fear, the horror or the confusion. I didn't understand what I'd just
witnessed.
A vampire should not have run from overgrown dogs like that. What good would their teeth be against
his granite skin?
And the wolves should have given Laurent a wide berth. Even if their extraordinary size had taught them
to fear nothing, it still made no sense that they would pursue him. I doubted his icy marble skin would
smell anything like food. Why would they pass up something warmblooded and weak like me to chase
after Laurent?
I couldn't make it add up.
A cold breeze whipped through the meadow, swaying the grass like something was moving through it.
I scrambled to my feet, backing away even though the wind brushed harmlessly past me. Stumbling in
panic, I turned and ran headlong into the trees.
The next few hours were agony. It took me three times as long to escape the trees as it had to get to the
meadow.
At first I paid no attention to where I was headed, focused only on what I was running from By the time I
collected myself enough to remember the compass, I was deep in the unfamiliar and menacing forest. My
hands were shaking so violently that I had to set the compass on the muddy ground to be able to read it.
Every few minutes I would stop to put the compass dowr and check that I was still heading northwest,
hearing—when the sounds weren't hidden behind the frantic squelching of my footsteps—the quiet
whisper of unseen things moving in the leaves.
The call of a jaybird made me leap back and fall into a thick stand of young spruce, scraping up my arms
and tangling my hair with sap. The sudden rush of a squirrel up a hemlock made me scream so loud it
hurt my own ears.
At last there was a break in the trees ahead. I came out onto the empty road a mile or so south of where
I'd left the truck. Exhausted as I was, I jogged up the lane until I found it. By the time I pulled myself into
the cab, I was sobbing again. I fiercely shoved down both stiff locks before I dug my keys out of my
pocket. The roar of the engine was comforting and sane. It helped me control the tears as I sped as fast
as my truck would allow toward the main highway.
I was calmer, but still a mess when I got home. Charlie's cruiser was in the driveway—I hadn't realized
how late it was. The sky was already dusky.
"Bella?" Charlie asked when I slammed the front door behind me and hastily turned the locks.
"Yeah, it's me." My voice was unsteady.
"Where have you been?" he thundered, appearing through the kitchen doorway with an ominous
expression.
I hesitated. He'd probably called the Stanleys. I'd better stick to the truth.
"I was hiking," I admitted.
His eyes were tight. "What happened to going to Jessica's?"
"I didn't feel like Calculus today."
Charlie folded his arms across his chest. "I thought I asked you to stay out of the forest."
"Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I won't do it again." I shuddered.
Charlie seemed to really look at me for the first time. I remembered that I had spent some time on the
forest floor today; I must be a mess.
"What happened?" Charlie demanded.
Again, I decided that the truth, or part of it anyway, was the best option. I was too shaken to pretend
that I'd spent an uneventful day with the flora and fauna.
"I saw the bear." I tried to say it calmly, but my voice was high and shaky. "It's not a bear, though—it's
some kind of wolf. And there are five of them. A big black one, and gray, and reddish-brown…"
Charlie's eyes grew round with horror. He strode quickly to me and grabbed the tops of my arms.
"Are you okay?"
My head bobbed in a weak nod.
"Tell me what happened."
"They didn't pay any attention to me. But aftet they were gone, I ran away and I fell down a lot."
He let go of my shoulders and wrapped his arms around me. For a long moment, he didn't say anything.
"Wolves," he murmured.
"What?"
"The rangers said the tracks were wrong for a bear—but wolves just don't get that big…"
"These were huge."
"How many did you say you saw?"
"Five."
Charlie shook his head, frowning with anxiety, He finally spoke in a tone that allowed no argument. "No
more hiking."
"No problem," I promised fervently.
Charlie called the station to report what I'd seen. I fudged a little bit about where exactly I'd seen the
wolves—claiming I'd been on the trail that led to the north. I didn't want my dad to know how deep I'd
gone into the forest against his wishes, and, more importantly, I didn't want anyone wandering near where
Laurent might be searching for me. The thought of it made me feel sick.
"Are you hungry?" he asked me when he hung up the phone.
I shook my head, though I must have been starving. I hadn't eaten all day.
"Just tired," I told him. I turned for the stairs.
"Hey," Charlie said, his voice suddenly suspicious again. "Didn't you say Jacob was gone for the day?"
"That's what Billy said," I told him, confused by his question.
He studied my expression for a minute, and seemed satisfied with what he saw there.
"Huh."
"Why?" I demanded. It sounded like he was implying that I'd been lying to him this morning. About
something besides studying with Jessica.
"Well, it's just that when I went to pick up Harry, I saw Jacob out in front of the store down there with
some of his friends. I waved hi, but he… well, I guess I don't know if he saw me. I think maybe he was
arguing with his friends. He looked strange, like he was upset about something. And… different. It's like
you can watch that kid growing! He gets bigger every time I see him."
"Billy said Jake and his friends were going up to Port Angeles to see some movies. They were probably
just waiting for someone to meet them."
"Oh." Charlie nodded and headed for the kitchen.
I stood in the hall, thinking about Jacob arguing with his friends. I wondered if he had confronted Embry
about the situation with Sam. Maybe that was the reason he'd ditched me today—if it meant he could
sort things out with Embry, I was glad he had.
I paused to check the locks again before I went to my room. It was a silly thing to do. What difference
would a lock make to any of the monsters I'd seen this afternoon? I assumed the handle alone would
stymie the wolves, not having opposable thumbs. And if Laurent came here…
Or… Victoria.
I lay down on my bed, but I was shaking too hard to hope for sleep. I curled into a cramped ball under
my quilt, and faced the horrifying facts.
There was nothing I could do. There were no precautions I could take. There was no place I could hide.
There was no one who could help me.
I realized, with a nauseous roll of my stomach, that the situation was worse than even that. Because all
those facts applied to Charlie, too. My father, sleeping one room away from me, was just a hairsbreadth
off the heart of the target that was centered on me. My scent would lead them here, whether I was here
or not.
The tremors rocked me until my teeth chattered.
To calm myself, I fantasized the impossible: I imagined the big wolves catching up to Laurent in the
woods and massacring the indestructible immortal the way they would any normal person. Despite the
absurdity of such a vision, the idea comforted me. If the wolves got him, then he couldn't tell Victoria I
was here all alone. If he didn't return, maybe she'd think the Cullens were still protecting me. If only the
wolves could win such a fight…
My good vampires were never coming back; how soothing it was to imagine that the other kind could
also disappear.
I squeezed my eyes tight together and waited for unconsciousness—almost eager for my nightmare to
start. Better that than the pale, beautiful face that smiled at me now from behind my lids.
In my imagination, Victoria's eyes were black with thirst, bright with anticipation, and her lips curled back
from her gleaming teeth in pleasure. Her red hair was brilliant as fire; it blew chaotically around her wild
face.
Laurent's words repeated in my head. If you knew what she had planned for you …
I pressed my fist against my mouth to keep from screaming.
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