New Moon 2

"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. 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 a 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 I guessed that he had been about to make a reference to the night I'd gotten lost in the woods. I moved on 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. 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. You're going to figure this out, you have to." "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?" 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. Jacob 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? 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 domg 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 upser that I 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 to 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." 14. FAMILY I COWERED INTO JACOB'S SIDE, MY EYES SCANNING the forest for the other werewolves. When they appeared, striding out from between the trees, they weren't what I was expecting. I'd gotten the image of the wolves stuck in my head. These were just four really big half-naked boys. Again, they reminded me of brothers, quadruplets. Something about the way they moved almost in synchronization to stand across the road from us, the way they all had the same long, round muscles under the same red-brown skin, the same cropped black hair, and the way their expressions altered at exactly the same moment. They started out curious and cautious. When they saw me there, half-hidden beside Jacob, they all became furious in the same second. Sam was still the biggest, though Jacob was getting close to catching up with him. Sam didn't really count as a boy. His face was older—not in the sense of lines or signs of aging, but in the matunry, the patience of his expression. "What have you done, Jacob?" he demanded. One of the others, one I didn't recognize—Jared or Paul—thrust past Sam and spoke before Jacob could defend himself. "Why can't you just follow the rules, Jacob?" he yelled, throwing his arms in the air. "What the hell are you thinking? Is she more important than everything—than the whole tribe? Than the people getting killed?" "She can help," Jacob said quietly. "Help!" the angry boy shouted. His arms begin to quiver. "Oh, that's likely! I'm sure the leech-lover is just dying to help us out!" "Don't talk about her like that!" Jacob shouted back, stung by the boy's criticism. A shudder rippled through the other boy, along his shoulders and down his spine. "Paul! Relax!" Sam commanded. Paul shook his head back and forth, not in defiance, but as though he were trying to concentrate. "Jeez, Paul," one of the other boys—probably Jared—muttered. "Get a grip." Paul twisted his head toward Jared, his lips curling back in irritation. Then he shifted his glare in my direction. Jacob took a step to put himself in front of me. That did it. "Right, protect her!" Paul roared in outrage. Another shudder, a convulsion, heaved through his body. He threw his head back, a real growl tearing from between his teeth. "Paul!" Sam and Jacob shouted together. Paul seemed to fall forward, vibrating violently. Halfway to the ground, there was a loud ripping noise, and the boy exploded. Dark silver fur blew out from the boy, coalescing into a shape more than five-times his size—a massive, crouched shape, ready to spring. The wolf's muzzle wrinkled back over his teeth, and another growl rolled through his colossal chest. His dark, enraged eyes focused on me. In the same second, Jacob was running across the road straight for the monster. "Jacob!" I screamed. Mid-stride, a long tremor shivered down Jacob's spine. He leaped forward, diving headfirst into the empty air. With another sharp tearing sound, Jacob exploded, too. He burst out of his skin—shreds of black and white cloth blasted up into the air. It happened so quickly that if I'd blinked, I'd have missed the entire transformation. One second it was Jacob diving into the air, and then it was the gigantic, russet brown wolf—so enormous that I couldn't make sense of its mass somehow fitting inside Jacob—charging the crouched silver beast. Jacob met the other werewolf's attack head-on. Their angry snarls echoed like thunder off the trees. The black and white scraps—the remains of Jacob's clothes—fluttered to the ground where he'd disappeared. "Jacob!" I screamed again, staggering forward. "Stay where you are, Bella," Sam ordered. It was hard to hear him over the roar of the fighting wolves. They were snapping and tearing at each other, their sharp teeth flashing toward each other's throats. The Jacob-wolf seemed to have the upper hand—he was visibly bigger than the other wolf, and it looked like le was stronger, too. He rammed his shoulder against the gray wolf again and again, knocking him back toward the trees. "Take her to Emily's," Sam shouted toward the other boys, who were watching the conflict with rapt expressions. Jacob had successfully shoved the gray wolf off the road, and they were disappearing into the forest, though the sound of their snarls was still loud. Sam ran after them, kicking off his shoes on the way. As he darted into the trees, he was quivering from head to toe. The growling and snapping was fading into the distance. Suddenly, the sound cut off and it was very quiet on the road. One of the boys started laughing. I turned to stare at him—my wide eyes felt frozen, like I couldn't even blink them. The boy seemed to be laughing at my expression. "Well, there's something you don't see every day," he snickered. His face was vaguely familiar—thinner than the others… Embry Call. "I do," the other boy, Jared, grumbled. "Every single day." "Aw, Paul doesn't lose his temper every day," Embry disagreed, still grinning. "Maybe two out of three." Jared stopped to pick something white up off the ground. He held it up toward Embry; it dangled in limp strips from his hand. "Totally shredded," Jared said. "Billy said this was the last pair he could afford—guess Jacob's going barefoot now." "This one survived," Embry said, holding up a white sneaker. "Jake can hop," he added with a laugh. Jared started collecting various pieces of fabric from the dirt. "Get Sam's shoes, will you? All the rest of this is headed for the trash." Embry grabbed the shoes and then jogged into the trees where Sam had disappeared. He was back in a few seconds with a pair of cut-off jeans draped over his arm. Jared gathered the torn remnants of Jacob's and Paul's clothes and wadded them into a ball. Suddenly, he seemed to remember me. He looked at me carefully, assessing. "Hey, you're not going to faint or puke or anything?" he demanded. "I don't think so," I gasped. "You don't look so good. Maybe you should sit down." "Okay," I mumbled. For the second time in one morning, I put my head between my knees. "Jake should have warned us," Embry complained. "He shouldn't have brought his girlfriend into this. What did he expect?" "Well, the wolf's out of the bag now." Embry sighed. "Way to go, Jake." I raised my head to glare at the two boys who seemed to be taking this all so lightly. "Aren't you worried about them at all?" I demanded. Embry blinked once in surprise "Worried? Why?" "They could hurt each other!" Embry and Jared guffawed. "I hope Paul gets a mouthful of him," Jared said. "Teach him a lesson." I blanched. "Yeah, right!" Embry disagreed. "Did you see Jake? Even Sam couldn't have phased on the fly like that. He saw Paul losing it, and it took him, what, half a second to attack? The boy's got a gift." "Paul's been fighting longer. I'll bet you ten bucks he leaves a mark." "You're on. Jake's a natural. Paul doesn't have a prayer." They shook hands, grinning. I tried to comfort myself with their lack of concern, but I couldn't drive the brutal image of the fighting werewolves from my head. My stomach churned, sore and empty, my head ached with worry. "Let's go see Emily. You know she'll have food waiting." Embry looked down at me. "Mind giving us a ride?" "No problem," I choked. Jared raised one eyebrow. "Maybe you'd better drive, Embry. She still looks like she might hurl." "Good idea. Where are the keys?" Embry asked me. "Ignition." Embry opened the passenger-side door. "In you go," he said cheerfully, hauling me up from the ground with one hand and stuffing me into my seat. He appraised the available space. "You'll have to ride in the back," he told Jared. "That's fine. I got a weak stomach. I don't want to be in there when she blows." "I bet she's tougher than that. She runs with vampires." "Five bucks?" Jared asked. "Done. I feel guilty, taking your money like this." Embry got in and started the engine while Jared leapt agilely into the bed. As soon as his door was closed, Embry muttered to me, "Don't throw up, okay? I've only got a ten, and if Paul got his teeth into Jacob…" "Okay," I whispered. Embry drove us back toward the village. "Hey, how did Jake get around the injunction anyway?" "The… what?" "Er, the order. You know, to not spill the beans. How did he tell you about this?" "Oh, that," I said, remembering Jacob trying to choke out the truth to me last night. "He didn't. I guessed right." Embry pursed his lips, looking surprised. "Hmm. S'pose that would work." "Where are we going?" I asked. "Emily's house. She's Sam's girlfriend… no, fiancee, now, I guess. They'll meet us back there after Sam gives it to them for what just happened. And after Paul and Jake scrounge up some new clothes, if Paul even has any left." "Does Emily know about… ?" "Yeah. And hey, don't stare at her. That bugs Sam." I frowned at him. "Why would I stare?" Embry looked uncomfortable. "Like you saw just now, hanging out around werewolves has its risks." He changed the subject quickly. "Hey, are you okay about the whole thing with the black-haired bloodsucker in the meadow? It didn't look like he was a friend of yours, but. ." Embry shrugged. "No, he wasn't my friend." "That's good. We didn't want to start anything, break the treaty, you know." "Oh, yeah, Jake told me about the treaty once, a long time ago. Why would killing Laurent break the treaty?" "Laurent," he repeated, snorting, like he was amused the vampire had had a name. "Well, we were technically on Cullen turf. We're not allowed to attack any of them, the Cullens, at least, off our land—unless they break the treaty first. We didn't know if the black-haired one was a relative of theirs or something. Looked like you knew him." "How would they go about breaking the treaty?" "If they bite a human. Jake wasn't so keen on the idea of letting it go that far." "Oh. Um, thanks. I'm glad you didn't wait." "Our pleasure." He sounded like he meant that in a literal sense. Embry drove past the easternmost house on the highway before turning off onto a narrow dirt road. "Your truck is slow," he noted. "Sorry." At the end of the lane was a tiny house that had once been gray. There was only one narrow window beside the weathered blue door, but the window box under it was filled with bright orange and yellow marigolds, giving the whole place a cheerful look. Embry opened the truck door and inhaled. "Mmm, Emily's cooking." Jared jumped out of the back of the truck and headed for the door, but Embry stopped him with one hand on his chest. He looked at me meaningfully, and cleared his throat. "I don't have my wallet on me," Jared said. "That's okay. I won't forget." They climbed up the one step and entered the house without knocking. I followed timidly after them. The front room, like Billy's house, was mostly kitchen. A young woman with satiny copper skin and long, straight, crow-black hair was standing at the counter by the sink, popping big muffins out of a tin and placing them on a paper plate. For one second, I thought the reason Embry had told me not to stare was because the girl was so beautiful. And then she asked "You guys hungry?" in a melodic voice, and she turned to face us full on, a smile on half of her face. The right side of her face was scarred from hairline to chin by three thick, red lines, livid in color though they were long healed. One line pulled down the corner of her dark, almond-shaped right eye, another twisted the right side of her mouth into a permanent grimace. Thankful for Embry's warning, I quickly turned my eyes to the muffins in her hands. They smelled wonderful—like fresh blueberries. "Oh," Emily said, surprised. "Who's this?" I looked up, trying to focus on the left half of her face. "Bella Swan," Jared told her, shrugging. Apparently, I'd been a topic of conversation before. "Who else?" "Leave it to Jacob to find a way around," Emily murmured. She stared at me, and neither half of her once-beautiful face was friendly. "So, you're the vampire girl." I stiffened. "Yes. Are you the wolf girl?" She laughed, as did Embry and Jared. The left half of her face warmed. "I guess I am." She turned to Jared. "Where's Sam?" "Bella, er, surprised Paul this morning." Emily rolled her good eye. "Ah, Paul," she sighed. "Do you think they'll be long? I was just about to start the eggs." "Don't worry," Embry told her. "If they're late, we won't let anything go to waste." Emily chuckled, and then opened the refrigerator. "No doubt," she agreed. "Bella, are you hungry? Go ahead and help yourself to a muffin." "Thanks." I took one from the plate and started nibbling around the edges. It was delicious, and it felt good in my tender stomach. Embry picked up his third and shoved it into his mouth whole. "Save some for your brothers," Emily chastised him, hitting him on the head with a wooden spoon. The word surprised me, but the others thought nothing of it. "Pig," Jared commented. I leaned against the counter and watched the three of them banter like a family. Emily's kitchen was a friendly place, bright with white cupboards and pale wooden floorboards. On the little round table, a cracked blue-and-white china pitcher was overflowing with wildflowers. Embry and Jared seemed entirely at ease here. Emily was mixing a humongous batch of eggs, several dozen, in a big yellow bowl. She had the sleeves of her lavender shirt pushed up, and I could see that the scars extended all the way down her arm to the back of her right hand. Hanging out with werewolves truly did have its risks, just as Embry had said. The front door opened, and Sam stepped through. "Emily," he said, and so much love saturated his voice that I felt embarrassed, intrusive, as I watched him cross the room in one stride and take her face in his wide hands. He leaned down and kissed the dark scars on her right cheek before he kissed her lips. "Hey, none of that," Jared complained. "I'm eating." "Then shut up and eat," Sam suggested, kissing Emily's ruined mouth again. "Ugh," Embry groaned. This was worse than any romantic movie; this was so real that it sang out loud with joy and life and true love. I put my muffin down and folded my arms across my empty chest. I stared at the flowers, trying to ignore the utter peace of their moment, and the wretched throbbing of my wounds. I was grateful for the distraction when Jacob and Paul came through the door, and then shocked when I saw that they were laughing. While I watched, Paul punched Jacob on the shoulder and Jacob went for a kidney jab in return. They laughed again. They both appeared to be in one piece. Jacob scanned the room, his eyes stopping when he found me leaning, awkward and out of place, against the counter in the far corner of the kitchen. "Hey, Bells," he greeted me cheerfully. He grabbed two muffins as he passed the table and came to stand beside me. "Sorry about before," he muttered under his breath. "How are you holding up.'" "Don't worry, I'm okay. Good muffins." I picked mine back up and started nibbhrg again. My chest felt better as soon as Jacob was beside me. "Oh, man!" Jared wailed, interrupting us. I looked up, and he and Embry were examining a fading pink line on Paul's forearm. Embry was grinning, exultant. "Fifteen dollars," he crowed. "Did you do that?" I whispered to Jacob, remembering the bet. "I barely touched him. He'll be perfect by sundown." "By sundown?" I looked at the line on Paul's arm. Odd, but it looked weeks old. "Wolf thing," Jacob whispered. I nodded, trying to not look weirded out. "You okay?" I asked him under my breath. "Not a scratch on me." His expression was smug. "Hey, guys," Sam said in a loud voice, interrupting all the conversations going on in the small room. Emily was at the stove, scraping the egg mixture around a big skillet, but Sam still had one hand touching the small of her back, an unconscious gesture. "Jacob has information for us." Paul looked unsurprised. Jacob must have explained this to him and Sam already. Or… they'd just heard his thoughts. "I know what the redhead wants." Jacob directed his words toward Jared and Embry. "That's what I was trying to tell you before." He kicked the leg of the chair Paul had settled into. "And?" Jared asked. Jacob's face got serious. "She is trying to avenge her mate—only it wasn't the black-haired leech we killed. The Cullens got her mate last year, and she's after Bella now." This wasn't news to me, but I still shivered. Jared, Embry, and Emily stared at me with open-mouthed surprise. "She's just a girl," Embry protested. "I didn't say it made sense. But that's why the bloodsucker's been trying to get past us. She's been heading for Forks." They continued to stare at me, mouths still hanging open, for a long moment. I ducked my head. "Excellent," Jared finally said, a smile beginning to pull up the corners of his mouth. "We've got bait." With stunning speed, Jacob yanked a can opener from the counter and launched it at Jared's head. Jared's hand flicked up faster than I would have thought possible, and he snagged the tool just before it hit his face. "Bella is not bait." "You know what I mean," Jared said, unabashed. "So we'll be changing oar patterns," Sam said, ignoring their squabble. "We'll try leaving a few holes, and see if she falls for it. We'll have to split up, and I don't like that. But if she's really after Bella, she probably won't try to take advantage of our divided numbers." "Quit's got to be close to joining us," Embry murmured. "Then we'll be able to split evenly." Everyone looked down. I glanced at Jacob's face, and it was hopeless, like it had been yesterday afternoon, outside his house. No matter how comfortable they seemed to be with their fate, here in this happy kitchen, none of these werewolves wanted the same fate for their friend. "Well, we won't count on that," Sam said in a low voice, and then continued at his regular volume. "Paul, Jared, and Embry will take the outer perimeter, and Jacob and I will take the inner. We'll collapse in when we've got her trapped." I noticed that Emily didn't particularly like that Sam would be in the smaller grouping. Her worry had me glancing up at Jacob, worrying, too. Sam caught my eye. "Jacob thinks it would be best if you spent as much time as possible here in La Push. She won't know where to find you so easily, just in case." "What about Charlie?" I demanded. "March Madness is still going," Jacob said. "I think Billy and Harry can manage to keep Charlie down here when he's not at work." "Wait," Sam said, holding one hand up. His glance flickered to Emily and then back to me. "That's what Jacob thinks is best, but you need to decide for yourself. You should weigh the risks of both options very seriously. You saw this morning how easily things can get dangerous here, how quickly they get out of hand. If you choose to stay with us, I can't make any guarantees about your safety." "I won't hurt her," Jacob mumbled, looking down. Sam acted as if he hadn't heard him speak. "If there was somewhere else you felt safe…" I bit my lip. Where could I go that wouldn't put someone else in danger? I recoiled again from the idea of bringing Renee into this—pulling her into the circle of the target I wore… "I don't want to lead Victoria anywhere else," I whispered. Sam nodded. "That's true. It's better to have her here, where we can end this." I flinched. I didn't want Jacob or any of the rest of them trying to end Victoria. I glanced at Jake's face; it was relaxed, almost the same as I remembered it from before the onset of the wolf thing, and utterly unconcerned by the idea of hunting vampires. "You'll be careful, right?" I asked, an audible lump in my throat. The boys burst into loud hoots of amusement. Everyone laughed at me—except Emily. She met my eyes, and I could suddenly see the symmetry underlying her deformity. Her face was still beautiful, and alive with a concern even more fierce than mine. I had to look away, before the love behind that concern could start me aching again. "Food's ready," she announced then, and the strategic conversation was history. The guys hurried to surround the table—which looked tiny and in danger of being crushed by them—and devoured the buffet-sized pan of eggs Emily placed in their midst in record time. Emily ate leaning against the counter like me—avoiding the bedlam at the table—and watched them with affectionate eyes. Her expression clearly stated that this was her family. All in all, it wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting from a pack of werewolves. I spent the day in La Push, the majority of it in Billy's house. He left a message on Charlie's phone and at the station, and Charlie showed up around dinnertime with two pizzas. It was good he brought two larges; Jacob ate one all by himself. I saw Charlie eyeing the two of us suspiciously all night, especially the much-changed Jacob. He asked about the hair; Jacob shrugged and told him it was just more convenient. I knew that as soon as Charlie and I were headed home, Jacob would take off—off to run around as a wolf, as he had done intermittently through the entire day. He and his brothers of sorts kept up a constant watch, looking for some sign of Victoria's return. But since they'd chased her away from the hot springs last night—chased her halfway to Canada, according to Jacob—she'd yet to make another foray. I had no hope at all that she might just give up. I didn't have that kind of luck. Jacob walked me to my truck after dinner and lingered by the window, waiting for Charlie to drive away first. "Don't be afraid tonight," Jacob said, while Charlie pretended to be having trouble with his seat belt. "We'll be out there, watching." "I won't worry about myself," I promised. "You're silly. Hunting vampires is fun. It's the best part of this whole mess." I shook my head. "If I'm silly, then you're dangerously unbalanced." He chuckled. "Get some rest, Bella, honey. You look exhausted." "I'll try." Charlie honked his horn impatiently. "See you tomorrow," Jacob said. "Come down first thing." "I will." Charlie followed me home. I paid scant attention to the lights in my rearview mirror. Instead, I wondered where Sam and Jared and Embry and Paul were, out running in the night. I wondered if Jacob had joined them yet. When we got home, I hurried for the stairs, but Charlie was right behind me. "What's going on, Bella?" he demanded before I could escape. "I thought Jacob was part of a gang and you two were fighting." "We made up." "And the gang?" "I don't know—who can understand teenage boys? They're a mystery. But I met Sam Uley and his fiancee, Emily. The seemed pretty nice to me." I shrugged. "Must have all been a misunderstanding." His face changed. "I hadn't heard that he and Emily had made it official. That's nice. Poor girl." "Do you know what happened to her?" "Mauled by a bear, up north, during salmon spawning season—horrible accident It was more than a year ago now. I heard Sam was really messed up over it." "That's horrible," I echoed. More than a year ago. I'd bet that meant it had happened when there was just one werewolf in La Push. I shuddered at the thought of how Sam must have felt every time he looked at Emily's face. That night, I lay awake for a long time trying to sort through the day. I worked my way backward through dinner with Billy, Jacob, and C harlie, to the long afternoon in the Blacks' house, waiting anxiously to hear something from Jacob, to Emily's kitchen, to the horror of the werewolf fight, to talking with Jacob on the beach. I thought about what Jacob had said early this morning, about hypocrisy. I thought about that for a long time. I didn't like to think that I was a hypocrite, only what was the point of lying to myself? I curled into a tight ball. No, Edward wasn't a killer. Even in his darker past, he'd never been a murderer of innocents, at least. But what if he had been? What if, during the time I that I'd known him, he'd been just like any other vampire? What if people had been disappearing from the woods, just like now? Would that have kept me away from him? I shook my head sadly. Love is irrational, I reminded myself. The more you loved someone, the less sense anything made. I rolled over and tried to think of something else—and I thought of Jacob and his brothers, out running in the darkness. I fell asleep imagining the wolves, invisible in the night, guarding me from danger. When I dreamed, I stood in the forest again, but I didn't wander. I was holding Emily's scarred hand as we faced into the shadows and waited anxiously for our werewolves to come home. 15 PRESSURE IT WAS SPRING BREAK IN FORKS AGAIN. WHEN I WOKE UP on Monday morning, I lay in bed for a few seconds absorbing that. Last spring break, I'd been hunted by a vampire, too. I hoped this wasn't some kind of tradition forming. Already I was falling into the pattern of things in La Push. I'd spent Sunday mostly on the beach, while Charlie hung out with Billy at the Blacks' house. I was supposed to be with Jacob, but Jacob had other things to do, so I wandered alone, keeping the secret from Charlie. When Jacob dropped in to check on me, he apologized for ditching me so much. He told me his schedule wasn't always this crazy, but until Victoria was stopped, the wolves were on red alert. When we walked along the beach now, he always held my hand. This made me brood over what Jared had said, about Jacob involving his "girlfriend." I supposed that that was exactly what it looked like from the outside. As long as Jake and I knew how it really was, I shouldn't let those kinds of assumptions bother me. And maybe they wouldn't, if I hadn't known that Jacob would have loved for things to be what they appeared. But his hand felt nice as it warmed mine, and I didn't protest. I worked Tuesday afternoon—Jacob followed me on his bike to make sure I arrived safely—and Mike noticed. "Are you dating that kid from La Push? The sophomore?" He asked, poorly disguising the resentment in his tone. I shrugged. "Not in the technical sense of the word. I do spent most of my time with Jacob, though. He's my best friend." Mike's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Don't kid yourself, Bella. The guy's head over heels for you." "I know," I sighed. "Life is complicated." "And girls are cruel," Mike said under his breath. I supposed that was an easy assumption to make, too. That night, Sam and Emily joined Charlie and me for dessert at Billy's house. Emily brought a cake that would have won over a harder man than Charlie. I could see, as the conversation flowed naturally through a range of casual subjects, that any worries Charlie might have harbored about gangs in La Push were being dissolved. Jake and I skipped out early, to get some privacy. We went out to his garage and sat in the Rabbit. Jacob leaned his head back, his face drawn with exhaustion. "You need some sleep, Jake." "I'll get around to it." He reached over and took my hand. His skin was blazing on mine. "Is that one of those wolf things?" I asked him. "The heat, I mean." "Yeah. We run a little warmer than the normal people. About one-oh-eight, one-oh-nine. I never get cold anymore. I could stand like this"—he gestured to his bare torso—"in a snowstorm and it wouldn't bother me. The flakes would turn to rain where I stood." "And you all heal fast—that's a wolf thing, too?" "Yeah, wanna see? It's pretty cool." His eyes flipped open and he grinned. He reached around me to the glove compartment and dug around for a minute. His hand came out with a pocketknife. "No, I do not want to see!" I shouted as soon as I realized what he was thinking. "Put that away!" Jacob chuckled, but shoved the knife back where it belonged. "Fine. It's a good thing we heal, though. You can't go see just any doctor when you're running a temperature that should mean you're dead." "No, I guess not." I thought about that for a minute. "… And being so big—that's part of it? Is that why you're all worried about Quil?" "That and the fact that Quil's grandfather says the kid could fry an egg on his forehead." Jacob's face turned hopeless. "It won't be long now. There's no exact age… it just builds and builds and then suddenly—" He broke off, and it was a moment before he could speak again. "Sometimes, if you get really upset or something, that can trigger it early. But I wasn't upset about anything—I was happy." He laughed bitterly. "Because of you, mostly. That's why it didn't happen to me sooner. Instead it just kept on building up inside me—I was like a time bomb. You know what set me off? I got back from that movie and Billy said I looked weird. That was all, but I just snapped. And then I—I exploded. I almost ripped his face off—my own father!" He shuddered, and his face paled. "Is it really bad, Jake?" I asked anxiously, wishing I had some way to help him. "Are you miserable?" "No, I'm not miserable," he told me. "Not anymore. Not now that you know. That was hard, before." He leaned over so that his cheek was resting on top of my head. He was quiet for a moment, and I wondered what he was thinking about. Maybe I didn't want to know. "What's the hardest part?" I whispered, still wishing I could help. "The hardest part is feeling… out of control," he said slowly. "Feeling like I can't be sure of myself—like maybe you shouldn't be around me, like maybe nobody should. Like I'm a monster who might hurt somebody. You've seen Emily. Sam lost control of his temper for just one second… and she was standing too close. And now there's nothing he can ever do to put it right again. I hear his thoughts—I know what that feels like… "Who wants to be a nightmare, a monster? "And then, the way it comes so easily to me, the way I'm better at it than the rest of them—does that make me even less human than Enbry or Sam? Sometimes I'm afraid that I'm losing myself." "Is it hard? To find yourself again?" "At first," he said. "It takes some practice to phase back and forth. But it's easier tor me." "Why?" I wondered. "Because Ephraim Black was my father's grandfather, and Quil Ateara was my mother's grandfather." "Quil?" I asked in confusion. "His great-grandfather," Jacob clarified. "The Quil you know is my second cousin." "But why does it matter who your great-grandfathers are?" "Because Ephraim and Quil were in the last pack. Levi Uley was the third. It's in my blood on both sides. I never had a chance. Like Quil doesn't have a chance." His expression was bleak. "What's the very best part?" I asked, hoping to cheer him up. "The best part," he said, suddenly smiling again, "is the speed." "Better than the motorcycles?" He nodded, enthusiastic. "There's no comparison." "How fast can you… ?" "Run?" he finished my question. "Fast enough. What can I measure it by? We caught… what was his name? Laurent? I imagine that means more to you than it would to someone else." It did mean something to me. I couldn't imagine that—the wolves running faster than a vampire. When the Cullens ran, they all but turned invisible with speed. "So, tell me something I don't know," he said. "Something about vampires. How did you stand it, being around them? Didn't it creep you out?" "No," I said curtly. My tone made him thoughtful for a moment. "Say, why'd your bloodsucker kill that James, anyway?" he asked suddenly. "James was trying to kill me—it was like a game for him. He lost. Do you remember last spring when I was in the hospital down in Phoenix?" Jacob sucked in a breath. "He got that close?" "He got very, very close." I stroked my scar. Jacob noticed, because he held the hand I moved. "What's that?" He traded hands, examining my right. "This is your funny scar, the cold one." He looked at it closer, with new eyes, and gasped. "Yes, it's what you think it is," I said. "James bit me." His eyes bulged, and his face turned a strange, sallow color under the russet surface. He looked like he was about to be sick. "But if he bit you… ? Shouldn't you be… ?" He choked. "Edward saved me twice," I whispered. "He sucked the venom out—you know, like with a rattlesnake." I twitched as the pain lashed around the edges of the hole. But I wasn't the only one twitching. I could feel Jacob's whole body trembling next to mine. Even the car shook. "Careful, Jake. Easy. Ca in down." "Yeah," he panted. "Calm." He shook his head back and forth quickly. After a moment, only his hands were shaking. "You okay?" "Yeah, almost. Tell me something else. Give me something else to think about." "What do you want to know?" "I don't know." He had his eyes closed, concentrating. "The extra stuff I guess. Did any of the other Cullens have… extra talents? Like the mind reading?" I hesitated a second. This felt like a question he would ask of his spy, not his friend. But what was the point of hiding what I knew? It didn't matter now, and it would help him control himself. So I spoke quickly, the image of Emily's ruined face in my mind, and the hair rising on my arms. I couldn't imagine how the russet wolf would fit inside the Rabbit—Jacob would tear the whole garage apart if he changed now. "Jasper could… sort of control the emotions of the people around him. Not in a bad way, just to calm someone down, that kind of thing. It would probably help Paul a lot," I added, teasing weakly. "And then Alice could see things that were going to happen. The future, you know, but not absolutely. The things she saw would change when someone changed the path they were on…" Like how she'd seen me dying… and she'd seen me becoming one of them. Two things that had not happened. And one that never would. My head started to spin—I couldn't seem to pull in enough oxygen from the air. No lungs. Jacob was entirely in control now, very still beside me. "Why do you do that?" he asked. He tugged lightly at one of my arms, which was bound around my chest, and then gave up when it wouldn't come loose easily. I hadn't even realized I'd moved them. "You do that when you're upset. Why?" "It hurts to think about them," I whispered. "It's like I can't breathe… like I'm breaking into pieces…"It was bizarre how much I could tell Jacob now. We had no more secrets. He smoothed my hair. "It's okay, Bella, it's okay. I won't bring it up again. I'm sorry." "I'm fine." I gasped. "Happens all the time. Not your fault." "We're a pretty messed-up pair, aren't we?" Jacob said. "Neither one of us can hold our shape together right." "Pathetic," I agreed, still breathless. "At least we have each other," he said, clearly comforted by the thought. I was comforted, too. "At least there's that," I agreed. And when we were together, it was fine. But Jacob had a horrible, dangerous job he felt compelled to do, and so I was often alone, stuck in La Push for safety, with nothing to do to keep my mind off any of my worries. I felt awkward, always taking up space at Billy's. I did some studying for another Calculus test that was coming up next week, but I could only look at math for so long. When I didn't have something obvious to do in my hands, I felt like I ought to be making conversation with Billy—the pressure of normal societal rules. But Billy wasn't one for filling up the long silences, and so the awkwardness continued. I tried hanging out at Emily's place Wednesday afternoon, for a change. At first it was kind of nice. Emily was a cheerful person who never sat still. I drifted behind her while she flitted around her little house and yard, scrubbing at the spotless floor, pulling a tiny weed, fixing a broken hinge, tugging a string of wool through an ancient loom, and always cooking, too. She complained lightly about the increase in the boys' appetites from all their extra running, but it was easy to see she didn't mind taking care of them. It wasn't hard to be with her—after all, we were both wolf girls now. But Sam checked in after I'd been there for a few hours. I only stayed long enough to ascertain that Jacob was fine and there was no news, and then I had to escape. The aura of love and contentment that surrounded them was harder to take in concentrated doses, with no one else around to dilute it. So that left me wandering the beach, pacing the length of the rocky crescent back and forth, again and again. Alone time wasn't good for me. Thanks to the new honesty with Jacob, I'd been talking and thinking about the Cullens way too much. No matter how I tried to distract myself—and I had plenty to think of: I was honestly and desperately worried about Jacob and his wolf-brothers, I was terrified for Charlie and the others who thought they were hunting animals, I was getting in deeper and deeper with Jacob without ever having consciously decided to progress in that direction and I didn't know what to do about it—none of these very real, very deserving of thought, very pressing concerns could take my mind off the pain in my chest for long. Eventually, I couldn't even walk anymore, because I couldn't breathe. I sat down on a patch of semidry rocks and curled up in a ball. Jacob found me like that, and I could tell from his expression that he understood. "Sorry," he said right away. He pulled me up from the ground and wrapped both arms around my shoulders. I hadn't realized that I was cold until then. His warmth made me shudder, but at least I could breathe with him there. "I'm ruining your spring break," Jacob accused himself as we walked back up the beach. "No, you're not. I didn't have any plans. I don't think I like spring breaks, anyway." "I'll take tomorrow morning off. The others can run without me. We'll do something fun." The word seemed out of place in my life right now, barely comprehensible, bizarre. "Fun?" "Fun is exactly what you need. Hmm…" he gazed out across the heaving gray waves, deliberating. As his eyes scanned the horizon, he had a flash of inspiration. "Got it!" he crowed. "Another promise to keep." "What are you talking about?" He let go of my hand and pointed toward the southern edge of the beach, where the flat, rocky half-moon dead-ended against the sheer sea cliffs. I stared, uncomprehending. "Didn't I promise to take you cliff diving?" I shivered. "Yeah, it'll be pretty cold—not as cold as it is today. Can you feel the weather changing? The pressure? It will be warmer tomorrow. You up for it?" The dark water did not look inviting, and, from this angle, the cliffs looked even higher than before. But it had been days since I'd heard Edward's voice. That was probably part of the problem. I was addicted to the sound of my delusions. It made things worse if I went too long without them. Jumping off a cliff was certain to remedy that situation. "Sure, I'm up for it. Fun." "It's a date," he said, and draped his arm around my shoulders. "Okay—now let's go get you some sleep." I didn't like the way the circles under his eyes were beginning to look permanently etched onto his skin. I woke early the next morning and snuck a change of clothes out to the truck. I had a feeling that Charlie would approve of today's plan just about as much as he would approve of the motorcycle. The idea of a distraction from all my worries had me almost excited. Maybe it would be fun. A date with Jacob, a date with Edward… I laughed darkly to myself. Jake could say what he wanted about us being a messed-up pair—I was the one who was truly messed up. I made the werewolf seem downright normal. I expected Jacob to meet me out front, the way he usually did when my noisy truck announced my arrival. When he didn't, I guessed that he might still be sleeping. I would wait—let him get as much rest as he could. He needed his sleep, and that would give the day time to warm a bit more. Jake had been right about the weather, though; it had changed in the night. A thick layer of clouds pressed heavily on the atmosphere now, making it almost sultry; it was warm and close under the gray blanket. I left my sweater in the truck. I knocked quietly on the door. "C'mon in, Bella," Billy said. He was at the kitchen table, eating cold cereal. "Jake sleeping?" "Er, no." He set his spoon down, and his eyebrows pulled together. "What happened?" I demanded. I could tell from his expression that something had. "Embry, Jared, and Paul crossed a fresh trail early this morning. Sam and Jake took off to help. Sam was hopeful—she's hedged herself in beside the mountains. He thinks they have a good chance to finish this." "Oh, no, Billy," I whispered. "Oh, no." He chuckled, deep and low. "Do you really like La Push so well that you want to extend your sentence here?" "Don't make jokes, Billy. This is too scary for that." "You're right," he agreed, still complacent. His ancient eyes were impossible to read. "This one's tricky." I bit my lip. "It's not as dangerous for them as you think it is. Sam knows what he's doing. You're the one that you should worry about. The vampire doesn't want to fight them. She's just trying to find a way around them… to you." "How does Sam know what he's doing?" I demanded, brushing aside his concern for me. "They've only killed just the one vampire—that could have been luck." "We take what we do very seriously, Bella. Nothing's been forgotten. Everything they need to know has been passed down from father to son for generations." That didn't comfort me the way he probably intended it to. The memory of Victoria, wild, catlike, lethal, was too strong in my head. If she couldn't get around the wolves, she would eventually try to go through them. Billy went back to his breakfast; I sat down on the sofa and flipped aimlessly though the TV channels. That didn't last long. I started to feel closed in by the small room, claustrophobic, upset by the fact that I couldn't see out the curtained windows. "I'll be at the beach," I told Billy abruptly, and hurried out the door. Being outside didn't help as much as I'd hoped. The clouds pushed down with an invisible weight that kept the claustrophobia from easing. The forest seemed strangely vacant as I walked toward the beach. I didn't see any animals—no birds, no squirrels. I couldn't hear any birds, either. The silence was eerie; there wasn't even the sound of wind in the trees. I knew it was all just a product of the weather, but it still made me edgy. The heavy, warm pressure of the atmosphere was perceptible even to my weak human senses, and it hinted at something major in the storm department. A glance at the sky backed this up; the clouds were churning sluggishly despite the lack of breeze on the ground. The closest clouds were a smoky gray, but between the cracks I could see another layer that was a gruesome purple color. The skies had a ferocious plan in store for today. The animals must be bunkering down. As soon as I reached the beach, I wished I hadn't come—I'd already had enough of this place. I'd been here almost every day, wandering alone. Was it so much different from my nightmares? But where else to go? I trudged down to the driftwood tree, and sat at the end so that I could lean against the tangled roots. I stared up at the angry sky broodingly, waiting for the first drops to break the stillness. I tried not to think about the danger Jacob and his friends were in. Because nothing could happen to Jacob. The thought was unendurable. I'd lost too much already—would fate take the last few shreds of peace left behind? That seemed unfair, out of balance. But maybe I'd violated some unknown rule, crossed some line that had condemned me. Maybe it was wrong to be so involved with myths and legends, to turn my back on the human world. Maybe… No. Nothing would happen to Jacob. I had to believe that or I wouldn't be able to function. "Argh!" I groaned, and jumped off the log. I couldn't sit still; it was worse than pacing. I'd really been counting on hearing Edward this morning. It seemed like that was the one thing that might make it bearable to live through this day. The hole had been festering lately, like it was getting revenge for the times that Jacob's presence had tamed it. The edges burned. The waves picked up as I paced, beginning to crash against the rocks, but there was still no wind. I felt pinned down by the pressure of the storm. Everything swirled around me, but it was perfectly still where I stood. The air had a faint electric charge—I could feel the static in my hair. Farther out, the waves were angrier than they were along the shore. I could see them battering against the line of the cliffs, spraying big white clouds of sea foam into the sky. There was still no movement in the air, though the clouds roiled more quickly now. It was eerie looking—like the clouds were moving by their own will. I shivered, though I knew it was just a trick of the pressure. The cliffs were a black knife edge against the livid sky. Staring at them, I remembered the day Jacob had told me about Sam and his "gang." I thought of the boys—the werewolves—throwing themselves into the empty air. The image of the falling, spiraling figures was still vivid in my mind. I imagined the utter freedom of the fall… I imagined the way Edward's voice would have sounded in my head—furious, velvet, perfect… The burning in my chest flared agonizingly. There had to be some way to quench it. The pain was growing more and more intolerable by the second. I glared at the cliffs and the crashing waves. Well, why not? Why not quench it right now? Jacob had promised me cliff diving, hadn't he? Just because he was unavailable, should I have to give up the distraction I needed so badly—needed even worse because Jacob was out risking his life? Risking it, in essence, for me. If it weren't for me, Victoria would not be killing people here… just somewhere else, far away. If anything happened to Jacob, it would be my fault. That realization stabbed deep and had me jogging back up to the road toward Billy's house, where my truck waited. I knew my way to the lane that passed closest to the cliffs, but I had to hunt for the little path that would take me out to the ledge. As I followed it, I looked for turns or forks, knowing that Jake had planned to take me off the lower outcropping rather than the top, but the path wound in a thin single line toward the brink with no options. I didn't have time to find another way down—the storm was moving in quickly now. The wind was finally beginning to touch me, the clouds pressing closer to the ground. Just as I reached the place where the dirt path fanned out into the stone precipice, the first drops broke through and splattered on my face. It was not hard to convince myself that I didn't have time to search for another way—I wanted to jump from the top. This was the image that had lingered in my head. I wanted the long fall that would feel like flying. I knew that this was the stupidest, most reckless thing I had done yet. The thought made me smile. The pain was already easing, as if my body knew that Edward's voice was just seconds away… The ocean sounded very far away, somehow farther than before, when I was on the path in the trees. I grimaced when I thought of the probable temperature of the water. But I wasn't going to let that stop me. The wind blew stronger now, whipping the rain into eddies around me. I stepped out to the edge, keeping my eyes on the empty space in front of me. My toes felt ahead blindly, caressing the edge of the rock when they encountered it. I drew in a deep breath and held it . . waiting. "Bella." I smiled and exhaled. Yes? I didn't answer out loud, for fear that the sound of my voice would shatter the beautiful illusion. He sounded so real, so close. It was only when lie was disapproving like this that I could hear the true memory of his voice—the velvet texture and the musical intonation that made up the most perfect of all voices. "Don't do this," he pleaded. You wanted me to be human, I reminded him. Well, watch me. "Please. For me." But you won't stay with me any other way. "Please." It was just a whisper in the blowing rain that tossed my hair and drenched my clothes—making me as wet as if this were my second jump of the day. I rolled up onto the balls of my feet. "No, Bella!" He was angry now, and the anger was so lovely. I smiled and raised my arms straight out, as if I were going to dive, lifting my face into the rain. But it was too ingrained from years of swimming at the public pool—feet first, first time. I leaned forward, crouching to get more spring… And I flung myself off the cliff. I screamed as I dropped through the open air like a meteor, but it was a scream of exhilaration and not fear. The wind resisted, trying vainly to fight the unconquerable gravity, pushing against me and twirling me in spirals like a rocket crashing to the earth. Yes! The word echoed through my head as I sliced through the surface of the water. It was icy, colder than I'd feared, and yet the chill only added to the high. I was proud of myself as I plunged deeper into the freezing black water. I hadn't had one moment of terror—just pure adrenaline. Really, the fall wasn't scary at all. Where was the challenge? That was when the current caught me. I'd been so preoccupied by the size of the cliffs, by the obvious danger of their high, sheer faces, that I hadn't worried at all about the dark water waiting. I never dreamed that the true menace was lurking far below me, under the heaving surf. It felt like the waves were fighting over me, jerking me back and forth between them as if determined to share by pulling me into halves. I knew the right way to avoid a riptide: swim parallel to the beach rather than struggling for the shore. But the knowledge did me little good when I didn't know which way the shore was. I couldn't even tell which way the surface was. The angry water was black in every direction; there was no brightness to direct me upward. Gravity was all-powerful when it competed with the air, but it had nothing on the waves—I couldn't feel a downward pull, a sinking in any direction. Just the battering of the current that flung me round and round like a rag doll. I fought to keep my breath in, to keep my lips locked around my last store of oxygen. It didn't surprise me that my delusion of Edward was there. He owed me that much, considering that I was dying. I was surprised by how sure that knowledge was. I was going to drown. I was drowning. "Keep swimming!" Edward begged urgently in my head. Where? There was nothing but the darkness. There was no place to swim to. "Stop that!" he ordered. "Don't you dare give up!" The cold of the water was numbing my arms and legs. I didn't feel the buffeting so much as before. It was more of just a dizziness now, a helpless spinning in the water. But I listened to him. I forced my arms to continue reaching, my legs to kick harder, though every second I was facing a new direction. It couldn't be doing any good. What was the point? "Fight!" he yelled. "Damn it, Bella, keep fighting." Why? I didn't want to fight anymore. And it wasn't the light-headedness, or the cold, or the failure of my arms as the muscles gave out in exhaustion, that made me content to stay where I was. I was almost happy that it was over. This was an easier death than others I'd faced. Oddly peaceful. I thought briefly of the clichés, about how you were suppose to see your life flash before your eyes. I was so much luckier. Who wanted to see a rerun, anyway? I saw him, and I had no will to fight. It was so clear, so much more defined than any memory. My subconscious had stored Edward away in flawless detail, saving him for this final moment. I could see his perfect face as if he were really there; the exact shade of his icy skin, the shape of his lips, the line of his jaw, the gold glinting in his furious eyes. He was angry, naturally, that I was giving up. His teeth were clenched and his nostrils flared with rage. "No! Bella, no!" My ears were flooded with the freezing water, but his voice was clearer than ever. I ignored his words and concentrated on the sound of his voice. Why would I fight when I was so happy where I was? Even as my lungs burned for more air and my legs cramped in the icy cold, I was content. I'd forgotten what real happiness felt like. Happiness. It made the whole dying thing pretty bearable. The current won at that moment, shoving me abruptly against something hard, a rock invisible in the gloom. It hit me solidly across the chest, slamming into me like an iron bar, and the breath whooshed out of my lungs, escaping in a thick cloud of silver bubbles. Water flooded down my throat, choking and burning. The iron bar seemed to be dragging me, pulling me away from Edward, deeper into the dark, to the ocean floor. Goodbye, I love you, was my last thought. 16. PARIS AT THAT MOMENT, MY HEAD BROKE THE SURFACE. How disorienting. I'd been sure I was sinking. The current wouldn't let up. It was slamming me against more rocks; they beat against the center of my back sharply, rhythmically, pushing the water from my lungs. It gushed out in amazing volume, absolute torrents pouring from my mouth and nose. The salt burned and my lungs burned and my throat was too full of water to catch a breath and the rocks were hurting my back. Somehow I stayed in one place, though the waves still heaved around me. I couldn't see anything but water everywhere, reaching for my face. "Breathe!" a voice, wild with anxiety, ordered, and I felt a cruel stab of pain wher I recognized the voice—because it wasn't Edward's. I could not obey. The waterfall pouring from my mouth didn't stop long enough for me to catch a breath. The black, icy water filled my chest, burning. The rock smacked into my back again, right between my shoulder blades, and another volley of water choked its way out of my lungs. "Breathe, Bella! C'mon!" Jacob begged. Black spots bloomed across my vision, getting wider and wider, blocking out the light. The rock struck me again. The rock wasn't cold like the water; it was hot on my skin. I realized it was Jacob's hand, trying to beat the water from my lungs. The iron bar that had dragged me from the sea was also… warm… My head whirled, the black spots covered everything… Was I dying again, then? I didn't like it—this wasn't as good as the last time. It was only dark now, nothing worth looking at here. The sound of the crashing waves faded into the black and became a quiet, even whoosh that sounded like it was coming from the inside of my ears… "Bella?" Jacob asked, his voice still tense, but not as wild as before. "Bells, honey, can you hear me?" The contents of my head swished and rolled sickeningly, like they'd joined the rough water… "How long has she been unconscious?" someone else asked. The voice that was not Jacob's shocked me, jarred me into a more focused awareness. I realized that I was still. There was no tug of the current on me—the heaving was inside my head. The surface under me was flat and motionless. It felt grainy against my bare arms. "I don't know," Jacob reported, still frantic. His voice was very close. Hands—so warm they had to be his—brushed wet hair from my cheeks. "A few minutes? It didn't take long to tow her to the beach." The quiet whooshing inside my ears was not the waves—it was the air moving in and out of my lungs again. Each breath burned—the passageways were as raw as if I'd scrubbed them out with steel wool. But I was breathing. And I was freezing. A thousand sharp, icy beads were striking my face and arms, making the cold worse. "She's breathing. She'll come around. We should get her out of the cold, though. I don't like the color she's turning…" I recognized Sam's voice this time. "You think it's okay to move her?" "She didn't hurt her back or anything when she fell?" "I don't know." They hesitated. I tried to open my eyes. It took me a minute, but then I could see the dark, purple clouds, flinging the freezing rain down at me. "Jake?" I croaked. Jacob's face blocked out the sky. "Oh!" he gasped, relief washing over his features. His eyes were wet from the rain. "Oh, Bella! Are you okay? Can you hear me? Do you hurt anywhere?" "J-Just m-my throat," I stuttered, my lips quivering from the cold. "Let's get you out of here, then," Jacob said. He slid his arms under me and lifted me without effort—like picking up an empty box. His chest was bare and warm; he hunched his shoulders to keep the rain off of me. My head lolled over his arm. I stared vacantly back toward the furious water, beating the sand behind him. "You got her?" I heard Sam ask. "Yeah, I'll take it from here. Get back to the hospital. I'll join you later. Thanks, Sam." My head was still rolling. None of his words sunk in at first. Sam didn't answer. There was no sound, and I wondered if he were already gone. The water licked and writhed up the sand after us as Jacob carried me away, like it was angry that I'd escaped. As I stared wearily, a spark of color caught my unfocused eyes—a small flash of fire was dancing on the black water, far out in the bay. The image made no sense, and I wondered how conscious I really was. My head swirled with the memory of the black, churning water—of being so lost that I couldn't find up or down. So lost… but somehow Jacob… "How did you find me?" I rasped. "I was searching for you," he told me. He was half-jogging through the rain, up the beach toward the road. "I followed the tire tracks to your truck, and then I heard you scream…" He shuddered. "Why would you jump, Bella? Didn't you notice that it's turning into a hurricane out here? Couldn't you have waited for me?" Anger filled his tone as the relief faded. "Sorry," I muttered. "It was stupid." "Yeah, it was really stupid," he agreed, drops of rain shaking free of his hair as he nodded. "Look, do you mind saving the stupid stuff for when I'm around? I won't be able to concentrate if I think you're jumping off cliffs behind my back." "Sure," I agreed. "No problem." I sounded like a chain-smoker. I tried to clear my throat—and then winced; the throat-clearing felt like stabbing a knife down there. "What happened today? Did you… find her?" It was my turn to shudder, though I wasn't so cold here, right next to his ridiculous body heat. Jacob shook his head. He was still more running than walking as he headed up the road to his house. "No. She took off into the water—the bloodsuckers have the advantage there. That's why I raced home—I was afraid she was going to double back swimming. You spend so much time on the beach…" He trailed off, a catch in his throat. "Sam came back with you… is everyone else home, too?" I hoped they weren't still out searching for her. "Yeah. Sort of." I tried to read his expression, squinting into the hammering rain. His eyes were tight with worry or pain. The words that hadn't made sense before suddenly did. "You said… hospital. Before, to Sam. Is someone hurt? Did she fight you?" My voice jumped up an octave, sounding strange with the hoarseness. "No, no. When we got back, Em was waiting with the news. It's Harry Clearwater. Harry had a heart attack this morning." "Harry?" I shook my head, trying to absorb what he was staying. "Oh, no! Does Charlie know?" "Yeah. He's over there, too, with my dad." "Is Harry going to be okay?" Jacob's eyes tightened again. "It doesn't look so great right now." Abruptly, I felt really sick with guilt—felt truly horrible about the brainless cliff dive. Nobody needed to be worrying about me right now. What a stupid time to be reckless. "What can I do?" I asked. At that moment the rain stopped. I hadn't realized we were already back to Jacob's house until he walked through the door. The storm pounded against the roof. "You can stay here," Jacob said as he dumped me on the short couch. "I mean it—right here I'll get you some dry clothes." I let my eyes adjust to the dark room while Jacob banged around in his bedroom. The cramped front room seemed so empty without Billy, almost desolate. It was strangely ominous—probably just because I knew where he was. Jacob was back in seconds. He threw a pile of gray cotton at me. "These will be huge on you, but it's the best I've got. I'll, er, step outside so you can change." "Don't go anywhere. I'm too tired to move yet. Just stay with me." Jacob sat on the floor next to me, his back against the couch. I wondered when he'd slept last. He looked as exhausted as I felt. He leaned his head on the cushion next to mine and yawned. "Guess I could rest for a minute…" His eyes closed. I let mine slide shut, too. Poor Harry. Poor Sue. I knew Charlie was going to be beside himself. Harry was one of his best friends. Despite Jake's negative take on things, I hoped fervently that Harry would pull through. For Charlie's sake. For Sue's and Leah's and Seth's… Billy's sofa was right next to the radiator, and I was warm now, despite my soaked clothes. My lungs ached in a way that pushed me toward unconsciousness rather than keeping me awake. I wondered vaguely if it was wrong to sleep… or was I getting drowning mixed up with concussions… ? Jacob began softly snoring, and the sound of it soothed like a lullaby. I fell asleep quickly. For the first time in a very long time, my dream was just a normal dream. Just a blurred wandering through old memories—blinding bright visions of the Phoenix sun, my mother's face, a ramshackle tree house, a faded quilt, a wall of mirrors, a flame on the black water… I forgot each of them as soon as the picture changed. The last picture was the only one that stuck in my head. It was meaningless—just a set on a stage. A balcony at night, a painted moon hanging in the sky. I watched the girl in her nightdress lean on the railing and talk to herself. Meaningless… but when I slowly struggled back to consciousness, Juliet was on my mind. Jacob was still asleep; he'd slumped down to the floor and his breathing was deep and even. The house was darker now than before, it was black outside the window. I was stiff, but warm and almost dry. The inside of my throat burned with every breath I took. I was going to have to get up—at least to get a drink. But my body just wanted tc he here limp, to never move again. Instead of moving, I thought about Juliet some more. I wondered what she would have done if Romeo had left her, not because he was banished, but because he lost interests What if Rosalind had given him the time of day, and he'd changed his mind? What if, instead of marrying Juliet, he'd just disappeared? I thought I knew how Juliet would feel. She wouldn't go back to her old life, not really. She wouldn't ever have moved on, I was sure of that. Even if she'd lived until she was old and gray, every time she closed her eyes, it would have been Romeo's face she saw behind her lids. She would have accepted that, eventually. I wondered if she would have married Paris in the end, just to please her parents, to keep the peace. No, probably not, I decided. But then, the story didn't say much about Paris. He was just a stick figure—a placeholder, a threat, a deadline to force her hand. What if there were more to Paris? What if Paris had been Juliet's friend? Her very best friend? What if he was the only one she could confide in about the whole devastating thing with Romeo? The one person who really understood her and made her feel halfway human again? What if he was patient and kind? What if he took care of her? What if Juliet knew she couldn't survive without him? What if he really loved her, and wanted her to be happy? And… what if she loved Paris? Not like Romeo. Nothing like that, of course. But enough that she wanted him to be happy, too? Jacob's slow, deep breathing was the only sound in the room—like a lullaby hummed to a child, like the whisper of a rocking chair, like the ticking of an old clock when you had nowhere you needed to go…It was the sound of comfort. If Romeo was really gone, never coming back, would it have mattered whether or not Juliet had taken Paris up on his offer? Maybe she should have tried to settle into the leftover scraps of life that were left behind. Maybe that would have been as close to happiness as she could get. I sighed, and then groaned when the sigh scraped my throat. I was reading too much into the story. Romeo wouldn't change his mind. That's why people still remembered his name, always twined with hers: Romeo and Juliet. That's why it was a good story. "Juliet gets dumped and ends up with Paris" would have never been a hit. I closed my eyes and drifted again, letting my mind wander away from the stupid play I didn't want to think about anymore. I thought about reality instead—about jumping off the cliff and what a brainless mistake that had been. And not just the cliff, but the motorcycles and the whole irresponsible Evel Knievel bit. What if something bad happened to me? What would that do to Charlie? Harry's heart attack had pushed everything suddenly into perspective for me. Perspective that I didn't want to see, because—if I admitted to the truth of it—it would mean that I would have to change my ways. Could I live like that? Maybe. It wouldn't be easy; in fact, it would be downright miserable to give up my hallucinations and try to be a grown-up. But maybe I should do it. And maybe I could. If I had Jacob. I couldn't make that decision right now. It hurt too much. I'd think about something else. Images from my ill-considered afternoon stunt rolled through my head while I tried to come up with something pleasant to think about… the feel of the air as I fell, the blackness of the water, the thrashing of the current… Edward's face… I lingered there for a long time. Jacob's warm hands, trying to beat life back into me… the stinging rain flung down by the purple clouds… the strange fire on the waves… There was something familiar about that flash of color on top of the water. Of course it couldn't really be fire— My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car squelching through the mud on the road outside. I heard it stop in front of the house, and doors started opening and closing. I thought about sitting up, and then decided against that idea. Billy's voice was easily identifiable, but he kept it uncharacteristically low, so that it was only a gravelly grumble. The door opened, and the light flicked on. I blinked, momentarily blind. Jake startled awake, gasping and jumping to his feet. "Sorry," Billy grunted. "Did we wake you?" My eyes slowly focused on his face, and then, as I could read his expression, they filled with tears. "Oh, no, Billy!" I moaned. He nodded slowly, his expression hard with grief. Jake hurried to his father and took one of his hands. The pain made his face suddenly childlike—it looked odd on top of the man's body. Sam was right behind Billy, pushing his chair through the door. His normal composure was absent from his agonized face. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. Billy nodded. "It's gonna be hard all around." "Where's Charlie?" "Your dad is still at the hospital with Sue. There are a lot of… arrangements to be made." I swallowed hard. "I'd better get back there," Sam mumbled, and he ducked hastily out the door. Billy pulled his hand away from Jacob, and then he rolled himself through the kitchen toward his room. Jake stared after him for a minute, then came to sit on the floor beside me again. He put his face in his hands. I rubbed his shoulder, wishing I could think of anything to say. After a long moment, Jacob caught my hand and held it to his face. "How are you feeling? Are you okay? I probably should have taken you to a doctor or something." He sighed. "Don't worry about me," I croaked. He twisted his head to look at me. His eyes were rimmed in red. "You don't look so good." "I don't feel so good, either, I guess." "I'll go get your truck and then take you home—you probably ought to be there when Charlie gets back." "Right." I lay listlessly on the sofa while I waited for him. Billy was silent in the other room. I felt like a peeping torn, peering through the cracks at a private sorrow that wasn't mine. It didn't take Jake long. The roar of my truck's engine broke the silence before I expected it. He helped me up from the couch without speaking, keeping his arm around my shoulder when the cold air outside made me shiver. He took the driver's seat without asking, and then pulled me next to his side to keep his arm tight around me. I leaned my head against his chest. "How will you get home?" I asked. "I'm not going home. We still haven't caught the bloodsucker, remember?" My next shudder had nothing to do with cold. It was a quiet ride after that. The cold air had woken me up. My mind was alert, and it was working very hard and very fast. What if? What was the right thing to do? I couldn't imagine my life without Jacob now—I cringed away from the idea of even trying to imagine that. Somehow, he'd become essential to my survival. But to leave things the way they were… was that cruel, as Mike had accused? I remembered wishing that Jacob were my brother. I realized now that all I really wanted was a claim on him. It didn't feel brotherly when he held me like this. It just felt nice—warm and comforting and familiar. Safe. Jacob was a safe harbor. I could stake a claim. I had that much within my power. I'd have to tell him everything, I knew that. It was the only way to be fair. I'd have to explain it right, so that he'd know I wasn't settling, that he was much too good for me. He already knew I was broken, that part wouldn't surprise him, but he'd need to know the extent of it. I'd even have to admit that I was crazy—explain about the voices I heard. He'd need to know everything before he made a decision. But, even as I recognized that necessity, I knew he would take me in spite of it all. He wouldn't even pause to think it through. I would have to commit to this—commit as much of me as there was left, every one of the broken pieces. It was the only way to be fair to him. Would I? Could I? Would it be so wrong to try to make Jacob happy? Even if the love I felt for him was no more than a weak echo of what I was capable of, even if my heart was far away, wandering and grieving after my fickle Romeo, would it be so very wrong? Jacob stopped the truck in front of my dark house, cutting the engine so it was suddenly silent. Like so many other times, he seemed to be in tune with my thoughts now. He threw his other arm around me, crushing me against his cheat, binding me to him. Again, this felt nice. Almost like being a whole person again. I thought he would be thinking of Harry, but then he spoke, and his tone was apologetic. "Sorry. I know you don't feel exactly the way I do, Bella. I swear I don't mind. I'm just so glad you're okay that I could sing—and that's something no one wants to hear." He laughed his throaty laugh in my ear. My breathing kicked up a notch, sanding the walls of my throat. Wouldn't Edward, indifferent as he might be, want me to be as happy as possible under the circumstances? Wouldn't enough friendly emotion linger for him to want that much for me? I thought he would. He wouldn't begrudge me this: giving just a small bit of love he didn't want to my friend Jacob. After all, it wasn't the same love at all. Jake pressed his warm cheek against the top of my hair. If I turned my face to the side—if I pressed my lips against his bare shoulder... I knew without any doubt what would follow. It would be very easy. There would be no need for explanations tonight. But could I do it? Could I betray my absent heart to save my pathetic life? Butterflies assaulted my stomach as I thought of turning my head. And then, as clearly as if I were in immediate danger, Edward's velvet voice whispered in my ear. "Be happy," he told me. I froze. Jacob felt me stiffen and released me automatically, reaching for the door. Wait, I wanted to say. Just a minute. But I was still locked in place, listening to the echo of Edward's voice in my head. Storm-cooled air blew through the cab of the truck. "OH!" The breath whooshed out of Jacob like someone had punched him in the gut. "Holy crap!" He slammed the door and twisted the keys in the ignition at the same moment. His hands were shaking so hard I didn't know how he managed it. "What's wrong?" He revved the engine too fast; it sputtered and faltered. "Vampire," he spit out. The blood rushed from my head and left me dizzy. "How do you know?" "Because I can smell it. Dammit!" Jacob's eyes were wild, raking the dark street. He barely seemed aware of the tremors that were rolling through his body. "Phase or get her out of here?" he hissed at himself. He looked down at me for a split second, taking in my horror-struck eyes and white face, and then he was scanning the street again. "Right. Get you out." The engine caught with a roar. The tires squealed as he spun the truck around, turning toward our only escape. The headlights washed across the pavement, lit the front line of the black forest, and finally glinted off a car parked across the street from my house. "Stop!" I gasped. It was a black car—a car I knew. I might be the furthest thing from an autophile, but I could tell you everything about that particular car. It was a Mercedes S55 AMG. I knew the horsepower and the color of the interior. I knew the feel of the powerful engine purring through the frame. I knew the rich smell of the leather seats and the way the extra-dark tint made noon look like dusk through those windows. It was Carlisle's car. "Stop!" I cried again, louder this time, because Jacob was gunning the truck down the street. "What?!" "It's not Victoria. Stop, stop! I want to go back." He stomped on the brake so hard I had to catch myself against the dashboard. "What?" he asked again, aghast. He stared at me with horror in his eyes. "It's Carlisle's car! It's the Cullens. I know it." He watched dawn break across my face, and a violent tremor rocked his frame. "Hey, calm down, Jake. It's okay. No danger, see? Relax." "Yeah, calm," he panted, putting his head down and closing his eyes. While he concentrated on not exploding into a wolf, I stared out the back window at the black car. It was just Carlisle, I told myself. Don't expect anything more. Maybe Esme… Stop right there, I told myself. Just Carlisle. That was plenty. More than I'd ever hoped to have again. "There's a vampire in your house," Jacob hissed. "And you want to go back?" I glanced at him, ripping my unwilling eyes off the Mercedes—terrified that it would disappear the second I looked away. "Of course," I said, my voice blank with surprise at his question. Of course I wanted to go back. Jacob's face hardened while I stared at him, congealing into the bitter mask that I'd thought was gone for good. Just before he had the mask in place, I caught the spasm of betrayal that flashed in his eyes. His hands were still shaking. He looked ten years older than me. He took a deep breath. "You're sure it's not a trick?" he asked in a slow, heavy voice. "It's not a trick. It's Carlisle. Take me back!" A shudder rippled through his wide shoulders, but his eyes were flat and emotionless. "No." "Jake, it's okay—" "No. Take yourself back, Bella." His voice was a slap—I flinched as the sound of it struck me. His jaw clenched and unclenched. "Look, Bella," he said in the same hard voice. "I can't go back. Treaty or no treaty, that's my enemy in there." "It's not like that—" "I have to tell Sam right away. This changes things. We can't be caught on their territory." "Jake, it's not a war!" He didn't listen. He put the truck in neutral and jumped out the door, leaving it running. "Bye, Bella," he called back over his shoulder. "I really hope you don't die." He sprinted into the darkness, shaking so hard that his shape seemed blurred; he disappeared before I could open my mouth to call him back. Remorse pinned me against the seat for one long second. What had I just done to Jacob'? But remorse couldn't hold me very long. I slid across the seat and put the truck back in drive. My hands were shaking almost as hard as Jake's had been, and this took a minute of concentration. Then I carefully turned the truck around and drove it back to my house. It was very dark when I turned off the headlights. Charlie had left in such a hurry that he'd forgotten to leave the porch lamp on. I felt a pang of doubt, staring at the house, deep in shadow. What if it was a trick? I looked back at the black car, almost invisible in the night. No. I knew that car. Still, my hands were shaking even worse than before as I reached for the key above the door. When I grabbed the doorknob to unlock it, it twisted easily under my hand. I let the door fall open. The hallway was black. I wanted to call out a greeting, but my throat was too dry. I couldn't quite seem to catch my breath. I took a step inside and fumbled for the light switch. It was so black—like the black water… Where was that switch? Just like the black water, with the orange flame flickering impossibly on top of it. Flame that couldn't be a fire, but what then… ? My fingers traced the wall, still searching, still shaking— Suddenly, something Jacob had told me this afternoon echoed in my head, finally sinking in… She took off into the water, he'd said. The bloodsuckers have the advantage there. That's why I raced home —I was afraid she was going to double back swimming. My hand froze in its searching, my whole body froze into place, as I realized why I recognized the strange orange color on the water. Victoria's hair, blowing wild in the wind, the color of fire… She'd been right there. Right there in the harbor with me and Jacob. If Sam hadn't been there, if it had been just the two of us… ? I couldn't breathe or move. The light flicked on, though my frozen hand had still not found the switch. I blinked into the sudden light, and saw that someone was there, waiting for me. 17. VISITOR UNNATURALLY STILL AND WHITE, WITH LARGE BLACK EYES intent on my face, my visitor waited perfectly motionless in the center of the halt, beautiful beyond imagining. My knees trembled for a second, and I nearly fell. Then I hurled myself at her. "Alice, oh, Alice!" I cried, as I slammed into her. I'd forgotten how hard she was; it was like running headlong into a wall of cement. "Bella?" There was a strange mingling of relief and confusion in her voice. I locked my arms around her, gasping to inhale as much of the scent of her skin as possible. It wasn't like anything else—not floral or spice, citrus or musk. No perfume in the world could compare. My memory hadn't done it justice. I didn't notice when the gasping turned into something else—I only realized I was sobbing when Alice dragged me to the living room couch and pulled me into her lap. It was like curling up into a cool stone, but a stone that was contoured comfortingly to the shape of my body. She rubbed my back in a gentle rhythm, waiting for me to get control of myself. "I'm… sorry," I blubbered. "I'm just… so happy… to see you!" "It's okay, Bella. Everything's okay." "Yes," I bawled. And, for once, it seemed that way. Alice sighed. "I'd forgotten how exuberant you are," she said, and her tone was disapproving. I looked up at her through my streaming eyes. Alice's neck was tight, straining away from me, her lips pressed together firmly. Her eyes were black as pitch. "Oh," I puffed, as I realized the problem. She was thirsty. And I smelled appetizing. It had been a while since I'd had to think about that kind of thing. "Sorry." "It's my own fault. It's been too long since I hunted. I shouldn't let myself get so thirsty. But I was in a hurry today." The look she directed at me then was a glare. "Speaking of which, would you like to explain to me how you're alive?" That brought me up short and stopped the sobs. I realized what must have happened immediately, and why Alice was here. I swallowed loudly. "You saw me fall." "No," she disagreed, her eyes narrowing. "I saw you jump." I pursed my lips as I tried to think of an explanation that wouldn't sound nuts. Alice shook her head. "I told him this would happen, but he didn't believe me. 'Bella promised,'" her voice imitated his so perfectly that I iroze in shock while the pain ripped through my torso. "'Don't be looking for her future, either,'" she continued to quote him. '"We've done enough damage." "But just because I'm not looking, doesn't mean I don't see" she went on. "I wasn't keeping tabs on you, I swear, Bella. It's just that I'm alreacy attuned to you… when I saw you jumping, I didn't think, I just got on a plane. I knew I would be too late, but I couldn't do nothing. And then I get here, thinking maybe I could help Charlie somehow, and you drive up." She shook her head, this time in confusion. Her voice was strained. "I saw you go into the water and I waited and waited for you to come up, but you didn't. What happened? And how could you do that to Charlie? Did you stop to think what this would do to him? And my brother? Do you have any idea what Edward—" I cut her off then, as soon as she said his name. I'd let her go on, even after I realized the misunderstanding she was under, just to hear the perfect bell tone of her voice. But it was time to interrupt. "Alice, I wasn't committing suicide." She eyed me dubiously. "Are you saying you didn't jump off a cliff?" "No, but…" I grimaced. "It was for recreational purposes only." Her expression hardened. "I'd seen some of Jacob's friends cliff diving," I insisted. "It looked like… fun, and I was bored…" She waited. "I didn't think about how the storm would affect the currents. Actually, I didn't think about the water much at all." Alice didn't buy it. I could see that she still thought I had been trying to kill myself. I decided to redirect. "So if you saw me go in, why didn't you see Jacob?" She cocked her head to the side, distracted. I continued. "It's true that I probably would have drowned if Jacob hadn't jumped in after me. Well, okay, there's no probably about it. But he did, and he pulled me out, and I guess he towed me back to shore, though I was kind of out for that part. It couldn't have been more than a minute that I was under before he grabbed me. How come you didn't see that?" She frowned in perplexity. "Someone pulled you out?" "Yes. Jacob saved me." I watched curiously as an enigmatic range of emotions flitted across her face. Something was bothering her—her imperfect vision? But I wasn't sure. Then she deliberately leaned in and sniffed my shoulder. I froze. "Don't be ridiculous," she muttered, sniffing at me some more. "What are you doing?" She ignored my question. "Who was with you out there just now? It sounded like you were arguing." "Jacob Black. He's… sort of my best friend, I guess. At least, he was…" I thought of Jacob's angry, betrayed face, and wondered what he was to me now. Alice nodded, seeming preoccupied. "What?" "I don't know," she said. "I'm not sure what it means." "Well, I'm not dead, at least." She rolled her eyes. "He was a fool to think you could survive alone. I've never seen anyone so prone to life-threatening idiocy." "I survived," I pointed out. She was thinking of something else. "So, if the currents were too much for you, how did this Jacob manage?" "Jacob is… strong." She heard the reluctance in my voice, and her eyebrows rose. I gnawed on my lip for a second. Was this a secret, or not? And if it was, then who was my greatest allegiance to? Jacob, or Alice? It was too hard to keep secrets, I decided. Jacob knew everything, why not Alice, too? "See, well, he's… sort of a werewolf," I admitted in a rush. "The Quileutes turn into wolves when there are vampires around. They know Carlisle from a long time ago. Were you with Carlisle back then?" Alice gawked at me for a moment, and then recovered herself, blinking rapidly. "Well, I guess that explains the smell," she muttered. "But does it explain what I didn't see?" She frowned, her porcelain forehead creasing. "The smell?" I repeated. "You smell awful," she said absently, still frowning. "A werewolf? Are you sure about that?" "Very sure," I promised, wincing as I remembered Paul and Jacob fighting in the road. "I guess you weren't with Carlisle the last time there were werewolves here in Forks?" "No. I hadn't found him yet." Alice was still lost in thought. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she turned to stare at me with a shocked expression. "Your best friend is a werewolf?" I nodded sheepishly. "How long has this been going on?" "Not long," I said, my voice sounding defensive. "He's only been a werewolf for just a few weeks." She glowered at me. "A young werewolf? Even worse! Edward was right—you're a magnet for danger. Weren't you supposed to be staying out of trouble?" "There's nothing wrong with werewolves," I grumbled, stung by her critical tone. "Until they lose their tempers." She shook her head sharply from side to side. "Leave it to you, Bella. Anyone else would be better off when the vampires left town. But you have to start hanging out with the first monsters you can find." I didn't want to argue with Alice—I was still trembling with joy that she was really, truly here, that I could touch her marble skin and hear her wind-chime voice—but she had it all wrong. "No, Alice, the vampires didn't really leave—not all of them, anyway. That's the whole trouble. If it weren't for the werewolves, Victoria would have gotten me by now. Well, if it weren't for Jake and his friends, Laurent would have gotten me before she could, I guess, so—" "Victoria?" she hissed. "Laurent?" I nodded, a teensy bit alarmed by the expression in her black eyes. I pointed at my chest. "Danger magnet, remember?" She shook her head again. "Tell me everything—start at the beginning." I glossed over the beginning, skipping the motorcycles and the voices, but telling her everything else right up to today's misadventure. Alice didn't like my thin explanation about boredom and the cliffs, so I hurried on to the strange flame I'd seen on the water and what I thought it meant. Her eyes narrowed almost to slits at that part. It was strange to see her look so… so dangerous—like a vampire. I swallowed hard and went on with the rest about Harry. She listened to my story without interrupting. Occasionally, she would shake her head, and the crease in her forehead deepened until it looked like it was carved permanently into the marble of her skin. She didn't speak and, finally, I fell quiet, struck again by the borrowed grief at Harry's passing. I thought of Charlie; he would be home soon. What condition would he be in? "Our leaving didn't do you any good at all, did it?" Alice murmured. I laughed once—it was a slightly hysterical sound. "That was never the point, though, was it? It's not like you left for my benefit." Alice scowled at the floor for a moment. "Well… I guess I acted impulsively today. I probably shouldn't have intruded." I could feel the blood draining from my face. My stomach dropped. "Don't go, Alice," I whispered. My fingers locked around the collar of her white shirt and I began to hyperventilate. "Please don't leave me." Her eyes opened wider. "All right," she said, enunciating each word with slow precision. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. Take a deep breath." I tried to obey, though I couldn't quite locate my lungs. She watched my face while I concentrated on my breathing. She waited till I was calmer to comment. "You look like hell, Bella." "I drowned today," I reminded her. "It goes deeper than that. You're a mess." I flinched. "Look, I'm doing my best." "What do you mean?" "It hasn't been easy. I'm working on it." She frowned. "I told him," she said to herself. "Alice," I sighed. "What did you think you were going to find? I mean, besides me dead? Did you expect to find me skipping around and whistling show tunes? You know me better than that." "I do. But I hoped." "Then I guess I don't have the corner on the idiocy market." The phone rang. "That has to be Charlie," I said, staggering to my feet. I grabbed Alice's stone hand and dragged her with me to the kitchen. I wasn't about to let her out of my sight. "Charlie?" I answered the phone. "No, it's me," Jacob said. "Jake!" Alice scrutinized my expression. "Just making sure you were still alive," Jacob said sourly. "I'm fine. I told you that it wasn't—" "Yeah. I got it. 'Bye." Jacob hung up on me.