E-Book: Twilight Book 2 New Moon

PREFACE


I FELT LIKE I WAS TRAPPED IN ONE OF THOSE TERRIFYING
nightmares, the one where you have to run, run till

your lungs burst, but you can't
make your body move fast enough. My legs seemed to move

slower and slower
as I fought my way through the callous crowd, but the

hands on the huge clock
tower didn't slow. With relentless, uncaring force,

they turned inexorably toward
the end—the end of everything.

different brands of beer,
glowing in front of them. The biggest sign, in

brilliant green, was the name of the
bar—One-Eyed Pete's. I wondered if there was some

pirate theme not visible
from outside. The metal door was propped open; it was

dimly lit inside, and the
low murmur of many voices and the sound of ice clinking

in glasses floated
across the street. Lounging against the wall beside the

door were four men.

I glanced back at Jessica. Her eyes were fixed on the

path ahead and she moved
briskly. She didn't look frightened—just wary, trying

to not attract attention to
herself.

I paused without thinking, looking back at the four men

with a strong sense of
déjà vu. This was a different road, a different night,

but the scene was so much
the same. One of them was even short and dark. As I

stopped and turned toward


them, that one looked up in interest.
I stared back at him, frozen on the sidewalk.
"Bella?" Jess whispered. "What are you doing?"
I shook my head, not sure myself. "I think I know

them…" I muttered.
What was I doing? I should be running from this memory

as fast as I could,


blocking the image of the four lounging men from my

mind, protecting myself
with the numbness I couldn't function without. Why was

I stepping, dazed, into
the street?


It seemed too coincidental that I should be in Port

Angeles with Jessica, on a dark
street even. My eyes focused on the short one, trying

to match the features to my
memory of the man who had threatened me that night

almost a year ago. I
wondered if there was any way I would recognize the

man, if it was really him.
That particular part of that particular evening was

just a blur. My body
remembered it better than my mind did; the tension in

my legs as I tried to decide
whether to run or to stand my ground, the dryness in my

throat as I struggled to
build a decent scream, the tight stretch of skin across

my knuckles as I clenched
my hands into fists, the chills on the back of my neck

when the dark-haired man
called me "sugar."…


There was an indefinite, implied kind of menace to

these men that had nothing to
do with that other night. It sprung from the fact that

they were strangers, and it
was dark here, and they outnumbered us—nothing more

specific than that. But it
was enough that Jessica's voice cracked in panic as she

called after me.


"Bella, come on!"
I ignored her, walking slowly forward without ever

making the conscious
decision to move my feet. I didn't understand why, but

the nebulous threat the
men presented drew me toward them. It was a senseless

impulse, but I hadn't felt



any kind of impulse in so long… I followed it.
Something unfamiliar beat through my veins. Adrenaline,

I realized, long absent
from my system, drumming my pulse faster and fighting

against the lack of
sensation. It was strange—why the adrenaline when there

was no fear? It was


almost as if it were an echo of the last time I'd stood

like this, on a dark street in
Port Angeles with strangers.
I saw no reason for fear. I couldn't imagine anything

in the world that there was


left to be afraid of, not physically at least. One of

the few advantages of losing
everything.
I was halfway across the street when Jess caught up to

me and grabbed my arm.


"Bella! You can't go in a bar!" she hissed.
"I'm not going in," I said absently, shaking her hand

off. "I just want to see
something…"


"Are you crazy?" she whispered. "Are you suicidal?"
That question caught my attention, and my eyes focused

on her.
"No, I'm not." My voice sounded defensive, but it was

true. I wasn't suicidal.


Even in the beginning, when death unquestionably would

have been a relief, I
didn't consider it. I owed too much to Charlie. I felt

too responsible for Renee. I
had to think of them.


And I'd made a promise not to do anything stupid or

reckless. For all those
reasons, I was still breathing.


Remembering that promise. I felt a twinge of guilt.
but what I was doing fight now didn't really count. It

wasn't like I was taking a
blade to my wrists.


Jess's eyes were round, her mouth hung open. Her

question about suicide had
been rhetorical, I realized too late.



"Go eat," I encouraged her, waving toward the fast

food. I didn't like the way she


looked at me. "I'll catch up in a minute."
I turned away from her, back to the men who were

watching us with amused,
curious eyes.


"Bella, stop this right now!"
My muscles locked into place, froze me where I stood.

Because it wasn't Jessica's


voice that rebuked me now. It was a furious voice, a

familiar voice, a beautiful
voice—soft like velvet even though it was irate.
It was his voice—I was exceptionally careful not to

think his name—and I was


surprised that the sound of it did not knock me to my

knees, did not curl me onto


the pavement in a torture of loss. But there was no

pain, none at all.
In the instant that I heard his voice, everything was

very clear. Like my head had
suddenly surfaced out of some dark pool. I was more

aware of everything—sight,
sound, the feel of the cold air that I hadn't noticed

was blowing sharply against
my face, the smells coming from the open bar door.


I looked around myself in shock.


"Go back to Jessica," the lovely voice ordered, still

angry. "You promised—
nothing stupid."
I was alone. Jessica stood a few feet from me, staring

at me with frightened eyes.


Against the wall, the strangers watched, confused,

wondering what I was doing,


standing there motionless in the middle of the street.
I shook my head, trying to understand. I knew he wasn't

there, and yet, he felt
improbably close, close for the first time since… since

the end. The anger in his
voice was concern, the same anger that was once very

familiar—something I
hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime.



"Keep your promise." The voice was slipping away, as if

the volume was being


turned down on a radio.
I began to suspect that I was having some kind of

hallucination. Triggered, no
doubt, by the memory—the deja vu, the strange

familiarity of the situation.


I ran through the possibilities quickly in my head.


Option one: I was crazy. That was the layman's term for

people who heard voices
in their heads.
Possible.
Option two: My subconscious mind was giving me what it

thought I wanted. This


was wish fulfillment—a momentary relief from pain by

embracing the incorrect
idea that he cared whether I lived or died. Projecting

what he would have said if
A) he were here, and B) he would be in any way bothered

by something bad
happening to me.


Probable.
I could see no option three, so I hoped it was the

second option and this was just


my subconscious running amuck, rather than something I

would need to be
hospitalized for.
My reaction was hardly sane, though—I was grateful. The

sound of his voice was


something that I'd feared I was losing, and so, more

than anything else, I felt
overwhelming gratitude that my unconscious mind had

held onto that sound
better than my conscious one had.


I was not allowed to think of him. That was something I

tried to be very strict
about. Of course I slipped; I was only human. But I was

getting better, and so the
pain was something I could avoid for days at a time

now. The tradeoff was the
never-ending numbness. Between pain and nothing, I'd

chosen nothing.


I waited for the pain now. I was not numb—my senses

felt unusually intense after



so many months of the haze—but the normal pain held

off. The only ache was
the disappointment that his voice was fading.


There was a second of choice.
The wise thing would be to run away from this

potentially destructive—and
certainly mentally unstable—development. It would be

stupid to encourage
hallucinations.


But his voice was fading.
I took another step forward, testing.
"Bella, turn around," he growled.
I sighed in relief. The anger was what I wanted to

hear—false, fabricated


evidence that he cared, a dubious gift from my

subconscious.
Very few seconds had passed while I sorted this all

out. My little audience
watched, curious. It probably looked like I was just

dithering over whether or not


I was going to approach them. How could they guess that

I was standing there
enjoying an unexpected moment of insanity?
"Hi," one of the men called, his tone both confident

and a bit sarcastic. He was


fair-skinned and fair-haired, and he stood with the

assurance of someone who
thought of himself as quite good-looking. I couldn't

tell whether he was or not. I
was prejudiced.


The voice in my head answered with an exquisite snarl.

I smiled, and the
confident man seemed to take that as encouragement.


"Can I help you with something? You look lost." He

grinned and winked.
I stepped carefully over the gutter, running with water

that was black in the
darkness.


"No. I'm not lost."



Now that I was closer—and my eyes felt oddly in focus—I

analyzed the short,
dark man's face. It was not familiar in any way. I

suffered a curious sensation of
disappointment that this was not the terrible man who

had tried to hurt me almost
a year ago.


The voice in my head was quiet now.


The short man noticed my stare. "Can I buy you a

drink?" he offered, nervous,
seeming flattered that I'd singled him out to stare at.
"I'm too young," I answered automatically.
He was baffled—wondering why I had approached them. I

felt compelled to


explain.
"From across the street, you looked like someone I

knew. Sorry, my mistake."
The threat that had pulled me across the street had

evaporated. These were not the


dangerous men I remembered. They were probably nice

guys. Safe. I lost interest.
"That's okay," the confident blonde said. "Stay and

hang out with us."
"Thanks, but I can't." Jessica was hesitating in the

middle of the street, her eyes


wide with outrage and betrayal.
"Oh, just a few minutes."
I shook my head, and turned to rejoin Jessica.
"Let's go eat," I suggested, barely glancing at her.

Though I appeared to be, for


the moment, freed of the zombie abstraction, I was just

as distant. My mind was
preoccupied. The safe, numb deadness did not come back,

and I got more anxious
with every minute that passed without its return.


"What were you thinking?" Jessica snapped. "You don't

know them—they could
have been psychopaths!"
I shrugged, wishing she would let it go. "I just

thought I knew the one guy."



"You are so odd, Bella Swan. I feel like I don't know

who you are."
"Sorry." I didn't know what else to say to that.
We walked to McDonald's in silence. I'd bet that she

was wishing we'd taken her


car instead of walking the short distance from the

theater, so that she could use
the drive-through. She was just as anxious now for this

evening to be over as I
had been from the beginning.


I tried to start a conversation a few times while we

ate, but Jessica was not


cooperative. I must have really offended her.
When we go back in the car, she tuned the stereo back

to her favorite station and
turned the volume too loud to allow easy conversation.


I didn't have to struggle as hard as usual to ignore

the music. Even though my
mind, for once, was not carefully numb and empty, I had

too much to think about
to hear the lyrics.


I waited for the numbness to return, or the pain.

Because the pain must be
coming. I'd broken my personal rules. Instead of shying

away from the memories,
I'd walked forward and greeted them. I'd heard his

voice, so clearly, in my head.
That was going to cost me, I was sure of it. Especially

if I couldn't reclaim the
haze to protect myself. I felt too alert, and that

frightened me.


But relief was still the strongest emotion in my

body—relief that came from the


very core of my being.
As much as I struggled not to think of him, I did not

struggle to forget. I worried
—late in the night, when the exhaustion of sleep

deprivation broke down my
defenses—that it was all slipping away. That my mind

was a sieve, and I would
someday not be able to remember the precise color of

his eyes, the feel of his
cool skin, or the texture of his voice. I could not

think of them, but I must
remember them.



Because there was just one thing that I had to believe

to be able to live—I had to
know that he existed. That was all. Everything else I

could endure. So long as he
existed.


That's why I was more trapped in Forks than I ever had

been before, why I'd
fought with Charlie when he suggested a change.

Honestly, it shouldn't matter; no
one was ever coming back here.


But if I were to go to Jacksonville, or anywhere else

bright and unfamiliar, how
could I be sure he was real? In a place where I could

never imagine him, the
conviction might fade… and that I could not live

through.


Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a

hard line to walk.
I was surprised when Jessica stopped the car in front

of my house. The ride had


not taken long, but, short as it seemed, I wouldn't

have thought that Jessica could
go that long without speaking.
"Thanks for going out with me, Jess," I said as I

opened my door. "That was…


fun." I hoped that fun was the appropriate word.
"Sure," she muttered.
"I'm sorry about… after the movie."
"Whatever, Bella." She glared out the windshield

instead of looking at me. She


seemed to be growing angrier rather than getting over

it.
"See you Monday?"
"Yeah. Bye."
I gave up and shut the door. She drove away, still

without looking at me.
I'd forgotten her by the time I was inside.
Charlie was waiting for me in the middle of the hall,

his arms folded tight over


his chest with his hands balled into fists.



"Hey, Dad," I said absentmindedly as I ducked around

Charlie, heading for the
stairs. I'd been thinking about him for too long, and I

wanted to be upstairs before
it caught up with me.


"Where have you been?" Charlie demanded.


I looked at my dad, surprised. "I went to a movie in

Port Angeles with Jessica.
Like I told you this morning."
"Humph," he grunted.
"Is that okay?"
He studied my face, his eyes widening as if he saw

something unexpected.


"Yeah, that's fine. Did you have fun?"
"Sure," I said. "We watched zombies eat people. It was

great."
His eyes narrowed.
"'Night, Dad."
He let me pass. I hurried to my room.
I lay in my bed a few minutes later, resigned as the

pain finally made its


appearance.
It was a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge

hole had been punched through
my chest, excising my most vital organs and leaving

ragged, unhealed gashes
around the edges that continued to throb and bleed

despite the passage of time.
Rationally, I knew my lungs must still be intact, yet I

gasped for air and my head
spun like my efforts yielded me nothing. My heart must

have been beating, too,
but I couldn't hear the sound of my pulse in my ears;

my hands felt blue with


cold. I curled inward, hugging my ribs to hold myself

together. I scrambled for
my numbness, my denial, but it evaded me.
And yet, I found I could survive. I was alert, I felt

the pain—the aching loss that


radiated out from my chest, sending wracking waves of

hurt through my limbs



and head—but it was manageable. I could live through

it. It didn't feel like the

pain had weakened over time, rather that I'd grown

strong enough to bear it.
Whatever it was that had happened tonight—and whether

it was the zombies, the
adrenaline, or the hallucinations that were

responsible—it had woken me up.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't know what

to expect in the morning.


5. CHEATER
"BELLA, WHY DON'T YOU TAKE OFF," MIKE SUGGESTED, his

eyes
focused off to the side, not really looking at me. I

wondered how long that had
been going on without me noticing.

It was a slow afternoon at Newton's. At the moment

there were only two patrons
in the store, dedicated backpackers from the sound of

their conversation. Mike
had spent the last hour going through the pros and cons

of two brands of
lightweight packs with them. But they'd taken a break

from serious pricing to
indulge in trying to one-up each other with their

latest tales from the trail. Their
distraction had given Mike a chance to escape.

"I don't mind staying," I said. I still hadn't been

able to sink back into my
protective shell of numbness, and everything seemed

oddly close and loud today,
like I'd taken cotton out of my ears. I tried to tune

out the laughing hikers without
success.

"I'm telling you," said the thickset man with the

orange beard that didn't match
his dark brown hair. "I've seen grizzlies pretty close

up in Yellowstone, but they
had nothing on this brute." His hair was matted, and

his clothes looked like they'd
been on his back for more than a few days. Fresh from

the mountains.

"Not a chance. Black bears don't get that big. The

grizzlies you saw were
probably cubs." The second man was tall and lean, his

face tanned and wind-
whipped into an impressive leathery crust.


"Seriously, Bella, as soon as these two give up, I'm

closing the place down,"
Mike murmured.


"If you want me to go…" I shrugged.
"On all fours it was taller than you," the bearded man

insisted while I gathered
my things together. "Big as a house and pitch-black.

I'm going to report it to the
ranger here. People ought to be warned—this wasn't up

on the mountain, mind
you—this was only a few miles from the trailhead."


Leather-face laughed and rolled his eyes. "Let me

guess—you were on your way
in? Hadn't eaten real food or slept off the ground in a

week, right?"
"Hey, uh, Mike, right?" the bearded man called, looking

toward us.
"See you Monday," I mumbled.
"Yes, sir," Mike replied, turning away.


"Say, have there been any warnings around here

recently—about black bears?"
"No, sir. But it's always good to keep your distance

and store your food correctly.
Have you seen the new bear-safe canisters? They only

weigh two pounds…"


The doors slid open to let me out into the rain. I

hunched over inside my jacket as
I dashed for my truck. The rain hammering against my

hood sounded unusually
loud, too, but soon the roar of the engine drowned out

everything else.


I didn't want to go back to Charlie's empty house. Last

night had been particularly
brutal, and I had no desire to revisit the scene of the

suffering. Even after the pain
had subsided enough for me to sleep, it wasn't over.

Like I'd told Jessica after the
movie, there was never any doubt that I would have

nightmares.


I always had nightmares now, every night. Not

nightmares really, not in the
plural, because it was always the same nightmare. You'd

think I'd get bored after
so many months, grow immune to it. But the dream never

failed to horrify me,
and only ended when I woke myself with screaming.

Charlie didn't come in to see



what was wrong anymore, to make sure there was no

intruder strangling me or


something like that—he was used to it now.
My nightmare probably wouldn't even frighten someone

else. Nothing jumped
out and screamed, "Boo!" There were no zombies, no

ghosts, no psychopaths.
There was nothing, really. Only nothing. Just the

endless maze of moss-covered
trees, so quiet that the silence was an uncomfortable

pressure against my
eardrums. It was dark, like dusk on a cloudy day, with

only enough light to see
that there was nothing to see. I hurried through the

gloom without a path, always
searching, searching, searching, getting more frantic

as the time stretched on,
trying to move faster, though the speed made me clumsy…

Then there would
come the point in my dream—and I could feel it coming

now, but could never
seem to wake myself up before it hit—when I couldn't

remember what it was that
I was searching for. When I realized that there was

nothing to search for, and
nothing to find. That there never had been anything

more than just this empty,
dreary wood, and there never would be anything more for

me… nothing but
nothing…


That was usually about when the screaming started.
I wasn't paying attention to where I was driving—just

wandering through empty,


wet side roads as I avoided the ways that would take me

home—because I didn't
have anywhere to go.
I wished I could feel numb again, but I couldn't

remember how I'd managed it


before. The nightmare was nagging at my mind and making

me think about
things that would cause me pain. I didn't want to

remember the forest. Even as I
shuddered away from the images, I felt my eyes fill

with tears and the aching
begin around the edges of the hole in my chest. I took

one hand from the steering
wheel and wrapped it around my torso to hold it in one

piece.


It will be as if I'd never existed. The words ran

through my head, lacking the



perfect clarity of my hallucination last night. They

were just words, soundless,
like print on a page. Just words, but they ripped the

hole wide open, and I
stomped on the brake, knowing I should not drive while

this incapacitated.


I curled over, pressing my face against the steering

wheel and trying to breathe


without lungs.
I wondered how long this could last. Maybe someday,

years from now—if the
pain would just decrease to the point where I could

bear it—I would be able to
look back on those few short months that would always

be the best of my life.
And, if it were possible that the pain would ever

soften enough to allow me to do
that, I was sure that I would feel grateful for as much

time as he'd given me. More
than I'd asked for, more than I'd deserved. Maybe

someday I'd be able to see it
that way.


But what if this hole never got any better? If the raw

edges never healed? If the


damage was permanent and irreversible?
I held myself tightly together. As if he'd never

existed, I thought in despair. What
a stupid and impossible promise to make! He could steal

my pictures and reclaim
his gifts, but that didn't put things back the way

they'd been before I'd met him.
The physical evidence was the most insignificant part

of the equation. I was
changed, my insides altered almost past the point of

recognition. Even my
outsides looked different—my face sallow, white except

for the purple circles the
nightmares had left under my eyes. My eyes were dark

enough against my pallid
skin that—if I were beautiful, and seen from a

distance—I might even pass for a
vampire now. But I was not beautiful, and I probably

looked closer to a zombie.


As if he'd never existed? That was insanity. It was a

promise that he could never


keep, a promise that was broken as soon as he'd made

it.
I thumped my head against the steering wheel, trying to

distract myself from the
sharper pain.



It made me feel silly for ever worrying about keeping

my promise. Where was the
logic in sticking to an agreement that had already been

violated by the other
party? Who cared if I was reckless and stupid? There

was no reason to avoid
recklessness, no reason why I shouldn't get to be

stupid.


I laughed humorlessly to myself, still gasping for air.

Reckless in Forks—now


there was a hopeless proposition.
The dark humor distracted me, and the distraction eased

the pain. My breath
came easier, and I was able to lean back against the

seat. Though it was cold
today, my forehead was damp with sweat.


I concentrated on my hopeless proposition to keep from

sliding back into the
excruciating memories. To be reckless in Forks would

take a lot of creativity—
maybe more than I had. But I wished I could find some

way… I might feel better
if I weren't holding fast, all alone, to a broken pact.

If I were an oath-breaker, too.
But how could I cheat on my side of the deal, here in

this harmless little town? Of
course, Forks hadn't always been so harmless, but now

it was exactly what it had
always appeared to be. It was dull, it was safe.


I stared out the windshield for a long moment, my

thoughts moving sluggishly—I
couldn't seem to make those thoughts go anywhere. I cut

the engine, which was
groaning in a pitiful way after idling for so long, and

stepped out into the drizzle.


The cold rain dripped through my hair and then trickled

across my cheeks like
freshwater tears. It helped to clear my head. I blinked

the water from my eyes,
staring blankly across the road.


After a minute of staring, I recognized where I was.

I'd parked in the middle of
the north lane of Russell Avenue. I was standing in

front of the Cheneys' house—
my truck was blocking their driveway—and across the

road lived the Markses. I
knew I needed to move my truck, and that I ought to go

home. It was wrong to



wander the way I had, distracted and impaired, a menace

on the roads of Forks.


Besides, someone would notice me soon enough, and

report me to Charlie.
As I took a deep breath in preparation to move, a sign

in the Markses' yard caught
my eye—it was just a big piece of cardboard leaning

against their mailbox post,
with black letters scrawled in caps across it.


Sometimes, kismet happens.
Coincidence? Or was it meant to be? I didn't know, but

it seemed kind of silly to
think that it was somehow fated, that the dilapidated

motorcycles rusting in the


Markses' front yard beside the hand-printed FOR SALE,

AS IS sign were serving
some higher purpose by existing there, right where I

needed them to be.
So maybe it wasn't kismet. Maybe there were just all

kinds of ways to be


reckless, and I only now had my eyes open to them.


Reckless and stupid. Those were Charlie's two very

favorite words to apply to
motorcycles.
Charlie's job didn't get a lot of action compared to

cops in bigger towns, but he


did get called in on traffic accidents. With the long,

wet stretches of freeway
twisting and turning through the forest, blind corner

after blind corner, there was
no shortage of that kind of action. But even with all

the huge log-haulers
barreling around the turns, mostly people walked away.

The exceptions to that
rule were often on motorcycles, and Charlie had seen

one too many victims,
almost always kids, smeared on the highway. He'd made

me promise before I was
ten that I would never accept a ride on a motorcycle.

Even at that age, I didn't
have to think twice before promising. Who would want to

ride a motorcycle
here? It would be like taking a sixty-mile-per-hour

bath.


So many promises I kept…
It clicked together for me then. I wanted to be stupid

and reckless, and I wanted



to break promises. Why stop at one?


That's as far as I thought it through. I sloshed

through the rain to the Markses'
front door and rang the bell.
One of the Marks boys opened the door, the younger one,

the freshman. I couldn't


remember his name. His sandy hair only came up to my

shoulder.
He had no trouble remembering my name. "Bella Swan?" he

asked in surprise.
"How much do you want for the bike?" I panted, jerking

my thumb over my


shoulder toward the sales display.
"Are you serious?" he demanded.
"Of course I am."
"They don't work."
I sighed impatiently—this was something I'd already

inferred from the sign.


"How much?"


"If you really want one, just take it. My mom made my

dad move them down to
the road so they'd get picked up with the garbage."
I glanced at the bikes again and saw that they were

resting on a pile of yard


clippings and dead branches. "Are you positive about

that?"
"Sure, you want to ask her?"
It was probably better not to involve adults who might

mention this to Charlie.
"No, I believe you."
"You want me to help you?" he offered. "They're not

light."
"Okay, thanks. I only need one, though."
"Might as well take both," the boy said. "Maybe you

could scavenge some parts."
He followed me out into the downpour and helped me load

both of the heavy


bikes into the back of my truck. He seemed eager to be

rid of them, so I didn't



argue.


"What are you going to do with them, anyway?" he asked.

"They haven't worked
in years."
"I kind of guessed that," I said, shrugging. My

spur-of-the-moment whim hadn't


come with a plan intact. "Maybe I'll take them to

Dowling's."


He snorted. "Dowling would charge more to fix them than

they'd be worth
running."
I couldn't argue with that. John Dowling had earned a

reputation for his pricing;


no one went to him except in an emergency. Most people

preferred to make the
drive up to Port Angeles, if their car was able. I'd

been very lucky on that front—
I'd been worried, when Charlie first gifted me my

ancient truck, that I wouldn't be
able to afford to keep it running. But I'd never had a

single problem with it, other
than the screaming-loud engine and the

fifty-five-mile-per-hour maximum speed
limit. Jacob Black had kept it in great shape when it

had belonged to his father,
Billy…


Inspiration hit like a bolt of lightning—not

unreasonable, considering the storm.
"You know what? That's okay. I know someone who builds

cars."
"Oh. That's good." He smiled in relief.


He waved as I pulled away, still smiling. Friendly kid.
I drove quickly and purposefully now, in a hurry to get

home before there was the
slightest chance of Charlie appearing, even in the

highly unlikely event that he
might knock off early. I dashed through the house to

the phone, keys still in hand.


"Chief Swan, please," I said when the deputy answered.

"It's Bella."
"Oh, hey, Bella," Deputy Steve said affably. "I'll go

get him."
I waited.



"What's wrong, Bella?" Charlie demanded as soon as he

picked up the phone.
"Can't I call you at work without there being an

emergency?"
He was quiet for a minute. "You never have before. Is

there an emergency?"
"No. I just wanted directions to the Blacks' place—I'm

not sure I can remember


the way. I want to visit Jacob. I haven't seen him in

months."


When Charlie spoke again, his voice was much happier.

"That's a great idea,
Bells. Do you have a pen?"
The directions he gave me were very simple. I assured

him that I would be back


for dinner, though he tried to tell me not to hurry. He

wanted to join me in La


Push, and I wasn't having that.
So it was with a deadline that I drove too quickly

through the storm-darkened
streets out of town. I hoped I could get Jacob alone.

Billy would probably tell on
me if he knew what I was up to.


While I drove, I worried a little bit about Billy's

reaction to seeing me. He would
be too pleased. In Billy's mind, no doubt, this had all

worked out better than he
had dared to hope. His pleasure and relief would only

remind me of the one I
couldn't bear to be reminded of. Not again today, I

pleaded silently. I was spent.


The Blacks' house was vaguely familiar, a small wooden

place with narrow
windows, the dull red paint making it resemble a tiny

barn. Jacob's head peered
out of the window before I could even get out of the

truck. No doubt the familiar
roar of the engine had tipped him off to my approach.

Jacob had been very
grateful when Charlie bought Billy's truck for me,

saving Jacob from having to
drive it when he came of age. I liked my truck very

much, but Jacob seemed to
consider the speed restrictions a shortcoming.


He met me halfway to the house.
"Bella!" His excited grin stretched wide across his

face, the bright teeth standing



in vivid contrast to the deep russet color of his skin.

I'd never seen his hair out of
its usual ponytail before. It fell like black satin

curtains on either side of his broad
face.


Jacob had grown into some of his potential in the last

eight months. He'd passed
that point where the soft muscles of childhood hardened

into the solid, lanky
build of a teenager; the tendons and veins had become

prominent under the red-
brown skin of his arms, his hands. His face was still

sweet like I remembered it,
though it had hardened, too—the planes of his

cheekbones sharper, his jaw
squared off, all childish roundness gone.


"Hey, Jacob!" I felt an unfamiliar surge of enthusiasm

at his smile. I realized that


I was pleased to see him. This knowledge surprised me.
I smiled back, and something clicked silently into

place, like two corresponding
puzzle pieces. I'd forgotten how much I really liked

Jacob Black.


He stopped a few feet away from me, and I stared up at

him in surprise, leaning
my head back though the rain pelted my face.


"You grew again!" I accused in amazement.
He laughed, his smile widening impossibly. "Six five,"

he announced with self-
satisfaction. His voice was deeper, but it had the

husky tone I remembered.


"Is it ever going to stop?" I shook my head in

disbelief. "You're huge."
"Still a beanpole, though." He grimaced. "Come inside!

You're getting all wet."
He led the way, twisting his hair in his big hands as

he walked. He pulled a


rubber band from his hip pocket and wound it around the

bundle.


"Hey, Dad," he called as he ducked to get through the

front door. "Look who
stopped by."
Billy was in the tiny square living room, a book in his

hands. He set the book in


his lap and wheeled himself forward when he saw me.



"Well, what do you know! It's good to see you, Bella."
We shook hands. Mine was lost in his wide grasp.
"What brings you out here? Everything okay with

Charlie?"
"Yes, absolutely. I just wanted to see Jacob—I haven't

seen him in forever."
Jacob's eyes brightened at my words. He was smiling so

big it looked like it


would hurt his cheeks.
"Can you stay for dinner?" Billy was eager, too.
"No, I've got to feed Charlie, you know."
"I'll call him now," Billy suggested. "He's always

invited."
I laughed to hide my discomfort. "It's not like you'll

never see me again. I


promise I'll be back again soon—so much you'll get sick

of me." After all, if
Jacob could fix the bike, someone had to teach me how

to ride it.
Billy chuckled in response. "Okay, maybe next time."


"So, Bella, what do you want to do?" Jacob asked.
"Whatever. What were you doing before I interrupted?" I

was strangely
comfortable here. It was familiar, but only distantly.

There were no painful
reminders of the recent past.


Jacob hesitated. "I was just heading out to work on my

car, but we can do
something else…"
"No, that's perfect!" I interrupted. "I'd love to see

your car."
"Okay," he said, not convinced. "It's out back, in the

garage."


Even better, I thought to myself. I waved at Billy.

"See you later."
A thick stand of trees and shrubbery concealed his

garage from the house. The
garage was no more than a couple of big preformed sheds

that had been bolted



together with their interior walls knocked out. Under

this shelter, raised on cinder
blocks, was what looked to me like a completed

automobile. I recognized the
symbol on the grille, at least.


"What kind of Volkswagen is that?" I asked.
"It's an old Rabbit—1986, a classic."
"How's it going?"
"Almost finished," he said cheerfully. And then his

voice dropped into a lower


key. "My dad made good on his promise last spring."
"Ah," I said.
He seemed to understand my reluctance to open the

subject. I tried not to


remember last May at the prom. Jacob had been bribed by

his father with money
and car parts to deliver a message there. Billy wanted

me to stay a safe distance
from the most important person in my life. It turned

out that his concern was, in
the end, unnecessary. I was all too safe now.


But I was going to see what I could do to change that.
"Jacob, what do you know about motorcycles?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Some. My friend Embry has a dirt bike. We

work on it together


sometimes. Why?"
"Well…" I pursed my lips as I considered. I wasn't sure

if he could keep his
mouth shut, but I didn't have many other options. "I

recently acquired a couple of


bikes, and they're not in the greatest condition. I

wonder if you could get them
running?"
"Cool." He seemed truly pleased by the challenge. His

face glowed. "I'll give it a


try."
I held up one finger in warning. "The thing is," I

explained, "Charlie doesn't
approve of motorcycles. Honestly, he'd probably bust a

vein in his forehead if he



knew about this. So you can't tell Billy."
"Sure, sure." Jacob smiled. "I understand."
"I'll pay you," I continued.
This offended him. "No. I want to help. You can't pay

me."
"Well… how about a trade, then?" I was making this up

as I went, but it seemed


reasonable enough. "I only need one bike—and I'll need

lessons, too. So how
about this? I'll give you the other bike, and then you

can teach me."
"Swee-eet." He made the word into two syllables.
"Wait a sec—are you legal yet? When's your birthday?"


"You missed it," he teased, narrowing his eyes in mock

resentment. "I'm sixteen."
"Not that your age ever stopped you before," I

muttered. "Sorry about your
birthday."


"Don't worry about it. I missed yours. What are you,

forty?"
I sniffed. "Close."
"We'll have a joint party to make up for it."
"Sounds like a date."
His eyes sparkled at the word.
I needed to reign in the enthusiasm before I gave him

the wrong idea—it was just


that it had been a long time since I'd felt so light

and buoyant. The rarity of the
feeling made it more difficult to manage.
"Maybe when the bikes are finished—our present to

ourselves," I added.
"Deal. When will you bring them down?"
I bit my lip, embarrassed. "They're in my truck now," I

admitted.
"Great." He seemed to mean it.



"Will Billy see if we bring them around?"
He winked at me. "We'll be sneaky."
We eased around from the east, sticking to the trees

when we were in view of the


windows, affecting a casual-looking stroll, just in

case. Jacob unloaded the bikes
swiftly from the truck bed, wheeling them one by one

into the shrubbery where I
hid. It looked too easy for him—I'd remembered the

bikes being much, much
heavier than that.


"These aren't half bad," Jacob appraised as we pushed

them through the cover of
the trees. "This one here will actually be worth

something when I'm done—it's an
old Harley Sprint."


"That one's yours, then."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"These are going to take some cash, though," he said,

frowning down at the


blackened metal. "We'll have to save up for parts

first."
"We nothing," I disagreed. "If you're doing this for

free, I'll pay for the parts."
"I don't know…" he muttered.
"I've got some money saved. College fund, you know."

College, schmollege, I


thought to myself. It wasn't like I'd saved up enough

to go anywhere special—and
besides, I had no desire to leave Forks anyway. What

difference would it make if
I skimmed a little bit off the top?


Jacob just nodded. This all made perfect sense to him.
As we skulked back to the makeshift garage, I

contemplated my luck. Only a
teenage boy would agree to this: deceiving both our

parents while repairing
dangerous vehicles using money meant for my college

education. He didn't see



anything wrong with that picture. Jacob was a gift from

the gods.



6. FRIENDS
THE MOTORCYCLES DIDN'T NEED TO BE HIDDEN ANY further

than
simply placing them in Jacob's shed. Billy's wheelchair

couldn't maneuver the
uneven ground separating it from the house.


Jacob started pulling the first bike—the red one, which

was destined for me—to
pieces immediately. He opened up the passenger door of

the Rabbit so I could sit
on the seat instead of the ground. While he worked,

Jacob chattered happily,
needing only the lightest of nudges from me to keep the

conversation rolling. He
updated me on the progress of his sophomore year of

school, running on about
his classes and his two best friends.


"Quil and Embry?" I interrupted. "Those are unusual

names."
Jacob chuckled. "Quil's is a hand-me-down, and I think

Embry got named after a


soap opera star. I can't say anything, though. They

fight dirty if you start on their
names—they'll tag team you."
"Good friends." I raised one eyebrow.
"No, they are. Just don't mess with their names."
Just then a call echoed in the distance. "Jacob?"

someone shouted.
"Is that Billy?" I asked.
"No." Jacob ducked his head, and it looked like he was

blushing under his brown


skin. "Speak of the devil," he mumbled, "and the devil

shall appear."



"Jake? Are you out here?" The shouting voice was closer

now.
"Yeah!" Jacob shouted back, and sighed.
We waited through the short silence until two tall,

dark-skinned boys strolled


around the corner into the shed.
One was slender, and almost as tall as Jacob. His black

hair was chin-length and
parted down the middle, one side tucked behind his left

ear while the right side
swung free. The shorter boy was more burly. His white

T-shirt strained over his


well-developed chest, and he seemed gleefully conscious

of that fact. His hair
was so short it was almost a buzz.
Both boys stopped short when they saw me. The thin boy

glanced swiftly back


and forth between Jacob and me, while the brawny boy

kept his eyes on me, a
slow smile spreading across his face.


"Hey, guys," Jacob greeted them halfheartedly.
"Hey, Jake," the short one said without looking away

from me. I had to smile in
response, his grin was so impish. When I did, he winked

at me. "Hi, there."


"Quil, Embry—this is my friend, Bella."
Quil and Embry, I still didn't know which was which,

exchanged a loaded look.
"Charlie's kid, right?" the brawny boy asked me,

holding out his hand.
"That's right," I confirmed, shaking hands with him.

His grasp was firm; it looked


like he was flexing his bicep.
"I'm Quil Ateara," he announced grandly before

releasing my hand.
"Nice to meet you, Quil."
"Hey, Bella. I'm Embry, Embry Call—you probably already

figured that out,


though." Embry smiled a shy smile and waved with one

hand, which he then
shoved in the pocket of his jeans.



I nodded. "Nice to meet you, too."
"So what are you guys doing?" Quil asked, still looking

at me.
"Bella and I are going to fix up these bikes," Jacob

explained inaccurately. But


bikes seemed to be the magic word. Both boys went to

examine Jacob's project,
drilling him with educated questions. Many of the words

they used were
unfamiliar to me, and I figured I'd have to have a Y

chromosome to really
understand the excitement.


They were still immersed in talk of parts and pieces

when I decided that I needed
to head back home before Charlie showed up here. With a

sigh, I slid out of the
Rabbit.


Jacob looked up, apologetic. "We're boring you, aren't

we?"


"Naw." And it wasn't a lie. I was enjoying myself—how

strange. "I just have to
go cook dinner for Charlie."
"Oh… well, I'll finish taking these apart tonight and

figure out what more we'll


need to get started rebuilding them. When do you want

to work on them again?"


"Could I come back tomorrow?" Sundays were the bane of

my existence. There
was never enough homework to keep me busy.
Quil nudged Embry's arm and they exchanged grins.
Jacob smiled in delight. "That would be great!"
"If you make a list, we can go shop for parts," I

suggested.
Jacob's face fell a little. "I'm still not sure I

should let you pay for everything."
I shook my head. "No way. I'm bankrolling this party.

You just have to supply the


labor and expertise."
Embry rolled his eyes at Quil.
"That doesn't seem right," Jacob shook his head.



"Jake, if I took these to a mechanic, how much would he

charge me?" I pointed
out.
He smiled. "Okay, you're getting a deal."


"Not to mention the riding lessons," I added.
Quil grinned widely at Embry and whispered something I

didn't catch. Jacob's
hand flashed out to smack the back of Quil's head.

"That's it, get out," he
muttered.


"No, really, I have to go," I protested, heading for

the door. "I'll see you
tomorrow, Jacob."
As soon as I was out of sight, I heard Quil and Embry

chorus, "Wooooo!"


The sound of a brief scuffle followed, interspersed

with an "ouch" and a "hey!"
"If either of you set so much as one toe on my land

tomorrow…" I heard Jacob
threaten. His voice was lost as I walked through the

trees.


I giggled quietly. The sound made my eyes widen in

wonder. I was laughing,
actually laughing, and there wasn't even anyone

watching. I felt so weightless
that I laughed again, just make the feeling last

longer.


I beat Charlie home. When he walked in I was just

taking the fried chicken out of
the pan and laying it on a pile of paper towels.


"Hey, Dad." I flashed him a grin.
Shock flitted across his face before he pulled his

expression together. "Hey,
honey," he said, his voice uncertain. "Did you have fun

with Jacob?"


I started moving the food to the table. "Yeah, I did."
"Well, that's good." He was still cautious. "What did

you two do?"
Now it was my turn to be cautious. "I hung out in his

garage and watched him


work. Did you know he's rebuilding a Volkswagen?"



"Yeah, I think Billy mentioned that."

The interrogation had to stop when Charlie began

chewing, but he continued to
study my face as he ate.
After dinner, I dithered around, cleaning the kitchen

twice, and then did my

homework slowly in the front room while Charlie watched

a hockey game. I
waited as long as I could, but finally Charlie

mentioned the late hour. When I
didn't respond, he got up, stretched, and then left,

turning out the light behind
him. Reluctantly, I followed.

As I climbed the stairs, I felt the last of the

afternoon's abnormal sense of wellbeing
drain from my system, replaced by a dull fear at the

thought of what I was
going to have to live through now.

I wasn't numb anymore. Tonight would, no doubt, be as

horrific as last night. I
lay down on my bed and curled into a ball in

preparation for the onslaught. I
squeezed my eyes shut and… the next thing I next I

knew, it was morning.

I stared at the pale silver light coming through my

window, stunned.

For the first time in more than four months, I'd slept

without dreaming. Dreaming
or screaming. I couldn't tell which emotion was

stronger—the relief or the shock.
I lay still in my bed for a few minutes, waiting for it

to come back. Because

something must be coming. If not the pain, then the

numbness. I waited, but

nothing happened. I felt more rested than I had in a

long time.
I didn't trust this to last. It was a slippery,

precarious edge that I balanced on, and
it wouldn't take much to knock me back down. Just

glancing around my room
with these suddenly clear eyes—noticing how strange it

looked, too tidy, like I
didn't live here at all—was dangerous.

I pushed that thought from my mind, and concentrated,

as I got dressed, on the
fact that I was going to see Jacob again today. The

thought made me feel


almost… hopeful. Maybe it would be the same as

yesterday. Maybe I wouldn't
have to remind myself to look interested and to nod or

smile at appropriate
intervals, the way I had to with everyone else. Maybe…

but I wouldn't trust this
to last, either. Wouldn't trust it to be the same—so

easy—as yesterday. I wasn't
going to set myself up for disappointment like that.


At breakfast, Charlie was being careful, too. He tried

to hide his scrutiny, keeping


his eyes on his eggs until he thought I wasn't looking.
"What are you up to today?" he asked, eyeing a loose

thread on the edge of his
cuff like he wasn't paying much attention to my answer.


"I'm going to hang out with Jacob again."
He nodded without looking up. "Oh," he said.
"Do you mind?" I pretended to worry. "I could stay…"
He glanced up quickly, a hint of panic in his eyes.

"No, no! You go ahead. Harry


was going to come up to watch the game with me anyway."


"Maybe Harry could give Billy a ride up," I suggested.

The fewer witnesses the
better.
"That's a great idea."
I wasn't sure if the game was just an excuse for

kicking me out, but he looked


excited enough now. He headed to the phone while I

donned my rain jacket. I felt
self-conscious with the checkbook shoved in my jacket

pocket. It was something
I never used.


Outside, the rain came down like water slopped from a

bucket. I had to drive
more slowly than I wanted to; I could hardly see a car

length in front of the truck.
But I finally made it through the muddy lanes to

Jacob's house. Before I'd killed
the engine, the front door opened and Jacob came

running out with a huge black
umbrella.



He held it over my door while I opened it.
"Charlie called—said you were on your way," Jacob

explained with a grin.
Effortlessly, without a conscious command to the

muscles around my lips, my


answering smile spread across my face. A strange

feeling of warmth bubbled up
in my throat, despite the icy rain splattering on my

cheeks.
"Hi, Jacob."
"Good call on inviting Billy up." He held up his hand

for a high five.


I had to reach so high to slap his hand that he

laughed.
Harry showed up to get Billy just a few minutes later.

Jacob took me on a brief
tour of his tiny room while we waited to be

unsupervised.


"So where to, Mr. Goodwrench?" I asked as soon as the

door closed behind Billy.
Jacob pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and

smoothed it out. "We'll start at
the dump first, see if we can get lucky. This could get

a little expensive," he
warned me. "Those bikes are going to need a lot of help

before they'll run again."


My face didn't look worried enough, so he continued.

"I'm talking about maybe
more than a hundred dollars here."
I pulled my checkbook out, fanned myself with it, and

rolled my eyes at his


worries. "We're covered."
It was a very strange kind of day. I enjoyed myself.

Even at the dump, in the


slopping rain and ankle-deep mud. I wondered at first

if it was just the aftershock
of losing the numbness, but I didn't think that was

enough of an explanation.
I was beginning to think it was mostly Jacob. It wasn't

just that he was always so


happy to see me, or that he didn't watch me out of the

corner of his eye, waiting
for me to do something that would mark me as crazy or

depressed. It was nothing
that related to me at all.



It was Jacob himself. Jacob was simply a perpetually

happy person, and he
carried that happiness with him like an aura, sharing

it with whoever was near
him. Like an earthbound sun, whenever someone was

within his gravitational
pull, Jacob warmed them. It was natural, a part of who

he was. No wonder I was
so eager to see him.


Even when he commented on the gaping hole in my

dashboard, it didn't send me
into a panic like it should have.
"Did the stereo break?" he wondered.
"Yeah," I lied.
He poked around in the cavity. "Who took it out?

There's a lot of damage…"
"I did," I admitted.
He laughed. "Maybe you shouldn't touch the motorcycles

too much."


"No problem."
According to Jacob, we did get lucky at the dump. He

was very excited about
several grease-blackened pieces of twisted metal that

he found; I was just
impressed that he could tell what they were supposed to

be.


From there we went to the Checker Auto Parts down in

Hoquiam. In my truck, it
was more than a two hour drive south on the winding

freeway, but the time
passed easily with Jacob. He chattered about his

friends and his school, and I
found myself asking questions, not even pretending,

truly curious to hear what he
had to say.


"I'm doing all the talking," he complained after a long

story about Quil and the
trouble he'd stirred up by asking out a senior's steady

girlfriend. "Why don't you
take a turn? What's going on in Forks? It has to be

more exciting than La Push."


"Wrong," I sighed. "There's really nothing. Your

friends are a lot more interesting
than mine. I like your friends. Quil's funny."



He frowned. "I think Quil likes you, too."
I laughed. "He's a little young for me."
Jacob's frown deepened. "He's not that much younger

than you. It's just a year


and a few months."
I had a feeling we weren't talking about Quil anymore.

I kept my voice light,
teasing. "Sure, but, considering the difference in

maturity between guys and girls,


don't you have to count that in dog years? What does

that make me, about twelve
years older?"
He laughed, rolling his eyes. "Okay, but if you're

going to get picky like that, you


have to average in size, too. You're so small, I'll

have to knock ten years off your
total."


"Five foot four is perfectly average." I sniffed. "It's

not my fault you're a freak."
We bantered like that till Hoquiam, still arguing over

the correct formula to
determine age—I lost two more years because I didn't

know how to change a tire,
but gained one back for being in charge of the

bookkeeping at my house—until
we were in Checker, and Jacob had to concentrate again.

We found everything
left on his list, and Jacob felt confident that he

could make a lot of progress with
our haul.


By the time we got back to La Push, I was twenty-three

and he was thirty—he


was definitely weighting skills in his favor.
I hadn't forgotten the reason for what I was doing.

And, even though I was
enjoying myself more than I'd thought possible, there

was no lessening of my
original desire. I still wanted to cheat. It was

senseless, and I really didn't care. I
was going to be as reckless as I could possibly manage

in Forks. I would not be
the only keeper of an empty contract. Getting to spend

time with Jacob was just a
much bigger perk than I'd expected.



Billy wasn't back yet, so we didn't have to be sneaky

about unloading our day's
spoils. As soon as we had everything laid out on the

plastic floor next to Jacob's
toolbox, he went right to work, still talking and

laughing while his fingers
combed expertly through the metal pieces in front of

him.


Jacob's skill with his hands was fascinating. They

looked too big for the delicate
tasks they performed with ease and precision. While he

worked, he seemed
almost graceful. Unlike when he was on his feet; there,

his height and big feet
made him nearly as dangerous as I was.


Quil and Embry did not show up, so maybe his threat

yesterday had been taken


seriously.
The day passed too quickly. It got dark outside the

mouth of the garage before I
was expecting it, and then we heard Billy calling for

us.


I jumped up to help Jacob put things away, hesitating

because I wasn't sure what I
should touch.


"Just leave it," he said. "I'll work on it later

tonight."
"Don't forget your schoolwork or anything," I said,

feeling a little guilty. I didn't
want him to get in trouble. That plan was just for me.


"Bella?"


Both our heads snapped up as Charlie's familiar voice

wafted through the trees,
sounding closer than the house.
"Shoot," I muttered. "Coming!" I yelled toward the

house.
"Let's go." Jacob smiled, enjoying the

cloak-and-dagger. He snapped the light off,


and for a moment I was blind. Jacob grabbed my hand and

towed me out of the
garage and through the trees, his feet finding the

familiar path easily. His hand
was rough, and very warm.


Despite the path, we were both tripping over our feet

in the darkness. So we were



also both laughing when the house came into view. The

laughter did not go deep;
it was light and superficial, but still nice. I was

sure he wouldn't notice the faint
hint of hysteria. I wasn't used to laughing, and it

felt right and also very wrong at
the same time.


Charlie was standing under the little back porch, and

Billy was sitting in the
doorway behind them.


"Hey, Dad," we both said at the same time, and that

started us laughing again.
Charlie stared at me with wide eyes that flashed down

to note Jacob's hand
around mine.


"Billy invited us for dinner," Charlie said to us in an

absentminded tone.


"My super secret recipe for spaghetti. Handed down for

generations," Billy said
gravely.
Jacob snorted. "I don't think Ragu's actually been

around that long."
The house was crowded. Harry Clearwater was there, too,

with his family—his


wife, Sue, whom I knew vaguely from my childhood

summers in Forks, and his
two children. Leah was a senior like me, but a year

older. She was beautiful in an
exotic way—perfect copper skin, glistening black hair,

eyelashes like feather
dusters—and preoccupied. She was on Billy's phone when

we got in, and she
never let it go. Seth was fourteen; he hung on Jacob's

every word with idolizing
eyes.


There were too many of us for the kitchen table, so

Charlie and Harry brought
chairs out to the yard, and we ate spaghetti off plates

on our laps in the dim light
from Billy's open door. The men talked about the game,

and Harry and Charlie
made fishing plans. Sue teased her husband about his

cholesterol and tried,
unsuccessfully, to shame him into eating something

green and leafy. Jacob talked
mostly to me and Seth, who interrupted eagerly whenever

Jacob seemed in



danger of forgetting him. Charlie watched me, trying to

be inconspicuous about


it, with pleased but cautious eyes.
It was loud and sometimes confusing as everyone talked

over everyone else, and
the laughter from one joke interrupted the telling of

another. I didn't have to
speak often, but I smiled a lot, and only because I

felt like it.


I didn't want to leave.
This was Washington, though, and the inevitable rain

eventually broke up the
party; Billy's living room was much too small to

provide an option for continuing
the get-together. Harry had driven Charlie down, so we

rode together in my truck


on the way back home. He asked about my day, and I told

mostly the truth—that
I'd gone with Jacob to look at parts and then watched

him work in his garage.
"You think you'll visit again anytime soon?" he

wondered, trying to be casual


about it.
"Tomorrow after school," I admitted. "I'll take

homework, don't worry."
"You be sure to do that," he ordered, trying to

disguise his satisfaction.
I was nervous when we got to the house. I didn't want

to go upstairs. The warmth


of Jacob's presence was fading and, in its absence, the

anxiety grew stronger. I
was sure I wouldn't get away with two peaceful nights

of sleep in a row.


To put bedtime off, I checked my e-mail; there was a

new message from Renee.
She wrote about her day, a new book club that rilled

the time slot of the
meditation classes she'd just quit, her week subbing in

the second grade, missing
her kindergarteners. She wrote that Phil was enjoying

his new coaching job, and
that they were planning a second honeymoon trip to

Disney World.


And I noticed that the whole thing read like a journal

entry, rather than a letter to
someone else. Remorse flooded through me, leaving an

uncomfortable sting
behind. Some daughter I was.



I wrote back to her quickly, commenting on each part of

her letter, volunteering
information of my own—describing the spaghetti party at

Billy's and how I felt
watching Jacob build useful things out of small pieces

of metal—awed and
slightly envious. I made no reference to the change

this letter would be from the
ones she'd received in the last several months. I could

barely remember what I'd
written to her even as recently as last week, but I was

sure it wasn't very
responsive. The more I thought about it, the guiltier I

felt; I really must have
worried her.


I stayed up extra late after that, finishing more

homework than strictly necessary.
But neither sleep deprivation nor the time spent with

Jacob—being almost happy
in a shallow kind of way—could keep the dream away for

two nights in a row.


I woke shuddering, my scream muffled by the pillow.
As the dim morning light filtered through the fog

outside my window, I lay still


in bed and tried to shake off the dream. There had been

a small difference last
night, and I concentrated on that.
Last night I had not been alone in the woods. Sam

Uley—the man who had


pulled me from the forest floor that night I couldn't

bear to think of consciously—
was there. It was an odd, unexpected alteration. The

man's dark eyes had been
surprisingly unfriendly, filled with some secret he

didn't seem inclined to share.
I'd stared at him as often as my frantic searching had

allowed; it made me
uncomfortable, under all the usual panic, to have him

there. Maybe that was
because, when I didn't look directly at him, his shape

seemed to shiver and
change in my peripheral vision. Yet he did nothing but

stand and watch. Unlike
the time when we had met in reality, he did not offer

me his help.


Charlie stared at me during breakfast, and I tried to

ignore him. I supposed I
deserved it. I couldn't expect him not to worry. It

would probably be weeks
before he stopped watching for the return of the

zombie, and I would just have to



try to not let it bother me. After all, I would be

watching for the return of the


zombie, too. Two days was hardly long enough to call me

cured.
School was the opposite. Now that I was paying

attention, it was clear that no one
was watching here.


I remembered the first day I'd come to Forks High

School—how desperately I'd
wished that I could turn gray, fade into the wet

concrete of the sidewalk like an
oversized chameleon. It seemed I was getting that wish

answered, a year late.


It was like I wasn't there. Even my teachers' eyes slid

past my seat as if it were


empty.
I listened all through the morning, hearing once again

the voices of the people
around me. I tried to catch up on what was going on,

but the conversations were
so disjointed that I gave up.


Jessica didn't look up when I sat down next to her in

Calculus.


"Hey, Jess," I said with put-on nonchalance. "How was

the rest of your
weekend?"
She looked at me with suspicious eyes. Could she still

be angry? Or was she just


too impatient to deal with a crazy person?
"Super," she said, turning back to her book.
"That's good," I mumbled.
The figure of speech cold shoulder seemed to have some

literal truth to it. I could


feel the warm air blowing from the floor vents, but I

was still too cold. I took the


jacket off the back of my chair and put it on again.
My fourth hour class got out late, and the lunch table

I always sat at was full by
the time I arrived. Mike was there, Jessica and Angela,

Conner, Tyler, Eric and
Lauren. Katie Marshall, the redheaded junior who lived

around the corner from
me, was sitting with Eric, and Austin Marks—older

brother to the boy with the



motorcycles—was next to her. I wondered how long they'd

been sitting here,


unable to remember if this was the first day or

something that was a regular habit.
I was beginning to get annoyed with myself. I might as

well have been packed in
Styrofoam peanuts through the last semester.


No one looked up when I sat down next to Mike, even

though the chair squealed
stridently against the linoleum as I dragged it back.
I tried to catch up with the conversation.


Mike and Conner were talking sports, so I gave up on

that one at once.
"Where's Ben today?" Lauren was asking Angela. I perked

up, interested. I
wondered if that meant Angela and Ben were still

together.


I barely recognized Lauren. She'd cut off all her

blond, corn-silk hair—now she
had a pixie cut so short that the back was shaved like

a boy. What an odd thing
for her to do. I wished I knew the reason behind it.

Did she get gum stuck in it?
Did she sell it? Had all the people she was habitually

nasty to caught her behind
the gym and scalped her? I decided it wasn't fair for

me to judge her now by my
former opinion. For all I knew, she'd turned into a

nice person.


"Ben's got the stomach flu," Angela said in her quiet,

calm voice. "Hopefully it's
just some twenty-four hour thing. He was really sick

last night."


Angela had changed her hair, too. She'd grown out her

layers.
"What did you two do this weekend?" Jessica asked, not

sounding as if she cared
about the answer. I'd bet that this was just an opener

so she could tell her own
stories. I wondered if she would talk about Port

Angeles with me sitting two seats
away? Was I that invisible, that no one would feel

uncomfortable discussing me
while I was here?


"We were going to have a picnic Saturday, actually,

but… we changed our
minds," Angela said. There was an edge to her voice

that caught my interest.



Jess, not so much. "That's too bad," she said, about to

launch into her story. But I
wasn't the only one who was paying attention.


"What happened?" Lauren asked curiously.
"Well," Angela said, seeming more hesitant than usual,

though she was always
reserved, "we drove up north, almost to the hot

springs—there's a good spot just
about a mile up the trail. But, when we were halfway

there… we saw something."


"Saw something? What?" Lauren's pale eyebrows pulled

together. Even Jess


seemed to be listening now.
"I don't know," Angela said. "We think it was a bear.

It was black, anyway, but it
seemed… too big."


Lauren snorted. "Oh, not you, too!" Her eyes turned

mocking, and I decided I
didn't need to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Obviously her personality had not
changed as much as her hair. "Tyler tried to sell me

that one last week."


"You're not going to see any bears that close to the

resort," Jessica said, siding


with Lauren.
"Really," Angela protested in a low voice, looking down

at the table. "We did see
it."


Lauren snickered. Mike was still talking to Conner, not

paying attention to the


girls.
"No, she's right," I threw in impatiently. "We had a

hiker in just Saturday who
saw the bear, too, Angela. He said it was huge and

black and just outside of town,
didn't he, Mike?"


There was a moment of silence. Every pair of eyes at

the table turned to stare at
me in shock. The new girl, Katie, had her mouth hanging

open like she'd just
witnessed an explosion. Nobody moved.



"Mike?" I muttered, mortified. "Remember the guy with

the bear story?"


"S-sure," Mike stuttered after a second. I didn't know

why he was looking at me
so strangely. I talked to him at work, didn't I? Did I?

I thought so…
Mike recovered. "Yeah, there was a guy who said he saw

a huge black bear right


at the trailhead—bigger than a grizzly," he confirmed.
"Hmph." Lauren turned to Jessica, her shoulders stiff,

and changed the subject.
"Did you hear back from USC?" she asked.
Everyone else looked away, too, except for Mike and

Angela. Angela smiled at


me tentatively, and I hurried to return the smile.
"So, what did you do this weekend, Bella?" Mike asked,

curious, but oddly wary.
Everyone but Lauren looked back, waiting for my

response.
"Friday night, Jessica and I went to a movie in Port

Angeles. And then I spent


Saturday afternoon and most of Sunday down at La Push."
The eyes flickered to Jessica and back to me. Jess

looked irritated. I wondered if


she didn't want anyone to know she'd gone out with me,

or whether she just
wanted to be the one to tell the story.
"What movie did you see?" Mike asked, starting to

smile.
"Dead End—the one with the zombies." I grinned in

encouragement. Maybe


some of the damage I'd done in these past zombie months

was reparable.


"I heard that was scary. Did you think so?" Mike was

eager to continue the
conversation.
"Bella had to leave at the end, she was so freaked,"

Jessica inserted with a sly


smile.
I nodded, trying to look embarrassed. "It was pretty

scary."
Mike didn't stop asking me questions till lunch was

over. Gradually, the others



were able to start up their own conversations again,

though they still looked at me
a lot. Angela talked mostly to Mike and me, and, when I

got up to dump my tray,
she followed.


"Thanks," she said in a low voice when we were away

from the table.


"For what?"


"Speaking up, sticking up for me."


"No problem."


She looked at me with concern, but not the offensive,

maybe-she's-lost-it kind.


"Are you okay?"


This is why I'd picked Jessica over Angela—though I'd

always liked Angela more


—for the girls' night movie. Angela was too perceptive.


"Not completely," I admitted. "But I'm a little bit

better."


"I'm glad," she said. "I've missed you."


Lauren and Jessica strolled by us then, and I heard

Lauren whisper loudly, "Oh,


joy Bella's back."
Angela rolled her eyes at them, and smiled at me in

encouragement.
I sighed It was like I was starting all over again.
"What's today's date?" I wondered suddenly.
"It's January nineteenth."
"Hmm."
"What is it?" Angela asked.
"It was a year ago yesterday that I had my first day

here," I mused.
"Nothing's changed much," Angela muttered, looking

after Lauren and Jessica.
"I know, I agreed I was just thinking the same thing."



7 REPETITION


I WASN'T SURE WHAT THE HELL I WAS DOING HERE Was I

trying to
push myself back into the zombie stupor? Had I turned

masochistic—developed a
taste for torture? I should have gone straight down to

La Push I felt much, much
healthier around Jacob This was not a healthy thing to

do.

But I continued to drive slowly down the overgrown

lane, twisting through the
trees that arched over me like a green, living tunnel

My hands were shaking, so I
tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

I knew that part of the reason I did this was the

nightmare, now that I was really
awake, the nothingness of the dream gnawed on my

nerves, a dog worrying a
bone.

There was something to search for. Unattainable and

impossible, uncaring and

distracted… but he was out there, somewhere. I had to

believe that.
The other part was the strange sense of repetition I'd

felt at school today, the
coincidence of the date. The feeling that I was

starting over—perhaps the way my
first day would have gone if I'd really been the most

unusual person in the
cafeteria that afternoon.

The words ran through my head, tonelessly, like I was

reading them rather than
hearing them spoken:

It will be as if I'd never existed.

I was lying to myself by splitting my reason for coming

here into just two parts. I


didn't want to admit the strongest motivation. Because

it was mentally unsound.
The truth was that I wanted to hear his voice again,

like I had in the strange
delusion Friday night. For that brief moment, when his

voice came from some
other part of me than my conscious memory, when his

voice was perfect and
honey smooth rather than the pale echo my memories

usually produced, I was
able to remember without pain. It hadn't lasted; the

pain had caught up with me,
as I was sure it would for this fool's errand. But

those precious moments when I


could hear him again were an irresistible lure. I had

to find some way to repeat
the experience… or maybe the better word was episode.
I was hoping that déjà vu was the key. So I was going

to his home, a place I


hadn't been since my ill-fated birthday party, so many

months ago.
The thick, almost jungle-like growth crawled slowly

past my windows. The drive
wound on and on. I started to go faster, getting edgy.

How long had I been


driving? Shouldn't I have reached the house yet? The

lane was so overgrown that
it did not look familiar.
What if I couldn't find it? I shivered. What if there

was no tangible proof at all?
Then there was the break in the trees that I was

looking for, only it was not so


pronounced as before. The flora here did not wait long

to reclaim any land that
was left unguarded. The tall ferns had infiltrated the

meadow around the house,
crowding against the trunks of the cedars, even the

wide porch. It was like the
lawn had been flooded—waist-high—with green, feathery

waves.


And the house was there, but it was not the same.

Though nothing had changed
on the outside, the emptiness screamed from the blank

windows. It was creepy.
For the first time since I'd seen the beautiful house,

it looked like a fitting haunt
for vampires.


I hit the brakes, looking away. I was afraid to go

farther.



But nothing happened. No voice in my head.


So I left the engine running and jumped out into the

fern sea. Maybe, like Friday
night, if I walked forward…
I approached the barren, vacant face slowly, my truck

rumbling out a comforting


roar behind me. I stopped when I got to the porch

stairs, because there was
nothing here. No lingering sense of their presence… of

his presence. The house
was solidly here, but it meant little. Its concrete

reality would not counteract the
nothingness of the nightmares.


I didn't go any closer. I didn't want to look in the

windows. I wasn't sure which
would be harder to see. If the rooms were bare, echoing

empty from floor to
ceiling, that would certainly hurt. Like my

grandmother's funeral, when my
mother had insisted that I stay outside during the

viewing. She had said that I
didn't need to see Gran that way, to remember her that

way, rather than alive.


But wouldn't it be worse if there were no change? If

the couches sat just as I'd last
seen them, the paintings on the walls—worse still, the

piano on its low platform?
It would be second only to the house disappearing all

together, to see that there
was no physical possession that tied them in anyway.

That everything remained,
untouched and forgotten, behind them.


Just like me.
I turned my back on the gaping emptiness and hurried to

my truck. I nearly ran. I
was anxious to be gone, to get back to the human world.

I felt hideously empty,
and I wanted to see Jacob. Maybe I was developing a new

kind of sickness,


another addiction, like the numbness before. I didn't

care. I pushed my truck as
fast as it would go as I barreled toward my fix.
Jacob was waiting for me. My chest seemed to relax as

soon as I saw him,


making it easier to breathe.



"Hey, Bella," he called.


I smiled in relief. "Hey, Jacob," I waved at Billy, who

was looking out the
window.
"Let's get to work," Jacob said in a low but eager

voice.
I was somehow able to laugh. "You seriously aren't sick

of me yet?" I wondered.


He must be starting to ask himself how desperate I was

for company.
Jacob led the way around the house to his garage.
"Nope. Not yet."
"Please let me know when I start getting on your

nerves. I don't want to be a


pain."


"Okay." He laughed, a throaty sound. "I wouldn't hold

your breath for that,
though."
When I walked into the garage, I was shocked to see the

red bike standing up,


looking like a motorcycle rather than a pile of jagged

metal.
"Jake, you're amazing," I breathed.
He laughed again. "I get obsessive when I have a

project." He shrugged. "If I had


any brains I'd drag it out a little bit."
"Why?"
He looked down, pausing for so long that I wondered if

he hadn't heard my


question. Finally, he asked me, "Bella, if I told you

that I couldn't fix these bikes,
what would you say?"


I didn't answer right away, either, and he glanced up

to check my expression.
"I would say… that's too bad, but I'll bet we could

figure out something else to
do. If we got really desperate, we could even do

homework."


Jacob smiled, and his shoulders relaxed. He sat down

next to the bike and picked



up a wrench. "So you think you'll still come over when

I'm done, then?"
"Is that what you meant?" I shook my head. "I guess I

am taking advantage of


your very underpriced mechanical skills. But as long as

you let me come over, I'll
be here."
"Hoping to see Quil again?" he teased.
"You caught me."
He chuckled. "You really like spending time with me?"

he asked, marveling.
"Very, very much. And I'll prove it. I have to work

tomorrow, but Wednesday


we'll do something nonmechanical."
"Like what?"
"I have no idea. We can go to my place so you won't be

tempted to be obsessive.


You could bring your schoolwork—you have to be getting

behind, because I


know I am."
"Homework might be a good idea." He made a face, and I

wondered how much
he was leaving undone to be with me.


"Yes," I agreed. "We'll have to start being responsible

occasionally, or Billy and
Charlie aren't going to be so easygoing about this." I

made a gesture indicating
the two of us as a single entity. He liked that—he

beamed.


"Homework once a week?" he proposed.


"Maybe we'd better go with twice," I suggested,

thinking of the pile I'd just been
assigned today.
He sighed a heavy sigh. Then he reached over his

toolbox to a paper grocery


sack. He pulled out two cans of soda, cracking one open

and handing it to me. He
opened the second, and held it up ceremoniously.
"Here's to responsibility," he toasted. "Twice a week."



"And recklessness every day in between," I emphasized.
He grinned and touched his can to mine.


I got home later than I'd planned and found Charlie had

ordered a pizza rather


than wait for me. He wouldn't let me apologize.
"I don't mind," he assured me. "You deserve a break

from all the cooking,
anyway."


I knew he was just relieved that I was still acting

like a normal person, and he


was not about to rock the boat.
I checked my e-mail before I started on my homework,

and there was a long one
from Renee. She gushed over every detail I'd provided

her with, so I sent back
another exhaustive description of my day. Everything

but the motorcycles. Even
happy-go-lucky Renee was likely to be alarmed by that.


School Tuesday had its ups and downs. Angela and Mike

seemed ready to
welcome me back with open arms—to kindly overlook my

few months of
aberrant behavior. Jess was more resistant. I wondered

if she needed a formal
written apology for the Port Angeles incident.


Mike was animated and chatty at work. It was like he'd

stored up the semester's
worth of talk, and it was all spilling out now. I found

that I was able to smile and
laugh with him, though it wasn't as effortless as it

was with Jacob. It seemed
harmless enough, until quitting time.


Mike put the closed sign in the window while I folded

my vest and shoved it
under the counter.
"This was fun tonight," Mike said happily.
"Yeah," I agreed, though I'd much rather have spent the

afternoon in the garage.
"It's too bad that you had to leave the movie early

last week."



I was a little confused by his train of thought. I

shrugged. "I'm just a wimp, I


guess."
"What I mean is, you should go to a better movie,

something you'd enjoy," he
explained.


"Oh," I muttered, still confused.


"Like maybe this Friday. With me. We could go see

something that isn't scary at
all."
I bit my lip.
I didn't want to screw things up with Mike, not when he

was one of the only


people ready to forgive me for being crazy. But this,

again, felt far too familiar.


Like the last year had never happened. I wished I had

Jess as an excuse this time.
"Like a date?" I asked. Honesty was probably the best

policy at this point. Get it
over with.


He processed the tone of my voice "If you want. But it

doesn't have to be like


that."
"I don't date," I said slowly, realizing how true that

was. That whole world
seemed impossibly distant.


"Just as friends?" he suggested. His clear blue eyes

were not as eager now. I


hoped he really meant that we could be friends anyway.
"That would be fun. But I actually have plans already

this Friday, so maybe next
week?"


"What are you doing?" he asked, less casually than I

think he wanted to sound.
"Homework. I have a… study session planned with a

friend."
"Oh. Okay. Maybe next week."
He walked me to my car, less exuberant than before. It

reminded me so clearly of



my first months in Forks. I'd come full circle, and now

everything felt like an echo


—an empty echo, devoid of the interest it used to have.
The next night, Charlie didn't seem the smallest bit

surprised to find Jacob and
me sprawled across the living room floor with our books

scattered around us, so I
guessed that he and Billy were talking behind our

backs.


"Hey, kids," he said, his eyes straying to the kitchen.

The smell of the lasagna I'd
spent the afternoon making—while Jacob watched and

occasionally sampled—
wafted down the hall; I was being good, trying to atone

for all the pizza.


Jacob stayed for dinner, and took a plate home for

Billy. He grudgingly added


another year to my negotiable age for being a good

cook.
Friday was the garage, and Saturday, after my shift at

Newton's, was homework
again. Charlie felt secure enough in my sanity to spend

the day fishing with
Harry. When he got back, we were all done—feeling very

sensible and mature
about it, too—and watching Monster Garage on the

Discovery Channel.


"I probably ought to go." Jacob sighed. "It's later

than I thought."
"Okay, fine," I grumbled. "I'll take you home."
He laughed at my unwilling expression—it seemed to

please him.
"Tomorrow, back to work," I said as soon as we were

safe in the truck. "What


time do you want me to come up?"


There was an unexplained excitement in his answering

smile. "I'll call you first,
okay?"
"Sure." I frowned to myself, wondering what was up. His

smile widened.
I cleaned the house the next morning—waiting for Jacob

to call and trying to


shake off the Litest nightmare. The scenery had

changed. Last night I'd wandered
in a wide sea of ferns interspersed with huge hemlock

trees. There was nothing



else there, and I was lost, wandering aimless and

alone, searching for nothing. I
wanted to kick myself for the stupid field trip last

week. I shoved the dream out
of my conscious mind, hoping it would stay locked up

somewhere and not escape
again.


Charlie was outside washing the cruiser, so when the

phone rang, I dropped the
toilet brush and ran downstairs to answer it.
"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.
"Bella," Jacob said, a strange, formal tone to his

voice.
"Hey, Jake."


"I believe that… we have a date" he said, his tone

thick with implications.
It took me a second before I got it. "They're done? I

can't believe it!" What
perfect timing. I needed something to distract me from

nightmares and
nothingness.


"Yeah, they run and everything."


"Jacob, you are absolutely, without a doubt, the most

talented and wonderful
person I know. You get ten years for this one."
"Cool! I'm middle-aged now."
I laughed. "I'm on my way up!"
I threw the cleaning supplies under the bathroom

counter and grabbed my jacket.
"Headed to see Jake," Charlie said when I ran past him.

It wasn't really a question.
"Yep," I replied as I jumped in my truck.
"I'll be at the station later," Charlie called after

me.
"Okay," I yelled back, turning the key.
Charlie said something else, but I couldn't hear him

clearly over the roar of the


engine. It sounded sort of like, "Where's the fire?"



I parked my truck off to the side of the Blacks' house,

close to the trees, to make
it easier for us to sneak the bikes out. When I got

out, a splash of color caught my
eye—two shiny motorcycles, one red, one black, were

hidden under a spruce,
invisible from the house. Jacob was prepared.


There was a piece of blue ribbon tied in a small bow

around each of the
handlebars. I was laughing at that when Jacob ran out

of the house.
"Ready?" he asked in a low voice, his eyes sparkling.


I glanced over his shoulder, and there was no sign of

Billy.
"Yeah," I said, but I didn't feel quite as excited as

before; I was trying to imagine
myself actually on the motorcycle.


Jacob loaded the bikes into the bed of the truck with

ease, laying them carefully


on their sides so they didn't show.
"Let's go," he said, his voice higher than usual with

excitement. "I know the
perfect spot—no one will catch us there."


We drove south out of town. The dirt road wove in and

out of the forest—
sometimes there was nothing but trees, and then there

would suddenly be a
breathtaking glimpse of the Pacific Ocean, reaching to

the horizon, dark gray
under the clouds. We were above the shore, on top of

the cliffs that bordered the
beach here and the view seemed to stretch on forever.


I was driving slowly, so that I could safely stare out

across the ocean now and
then, as the road wound closer to the sea cliffs. Jacob

was talking about finishing
the bikes, but his descriptions were getting technical,

so I wasn't paying close
attention.


That was when I noticed four figures standing on a

rocky ledge, much too close
to the precipice. I couldn't tell from the distance how

old they were, but I
assumed they were men. Despite the chill in the air

today, they seemed to be



wearing only shorts.


As I watched, the tallest person stepped closer to the

brink. I slowed
automatically, my foot hesitating over the brake pedal.
And then he threw himself off the edge.
"No!" I shouted, stomping down on the brake.
"What's wrong?" Jacob shouted back, alarmed.
"That guy—he just jumped off the cliff! Why didn't they

stop him? We've got to


call an ambulance!" I threw open my door and started to

get out, which made no
sense at all. The fastest way to a phone was to drive

back to Billy's. But I couldn't
believe what I'd just seen. Maybe, subconsciously, I

hoped I would see something
different without the glass of the windshield in the

way.


Jacob laughed, and I spun to stare at him wildly. How

could he be so calloused,


so cold-blooded?
"They're just cliff diving, Bella. Recreation. La Push

doesn't have a mall, you
know." He was teasing, but there was a strange note of

irritation in his voice.


"Cliff diving?" I repeated, dazed. I stared in

disbelief as a second figure stepped
to the edge, paused, and then very gracefully leaped

into space. He fell for what
seemed like an eternity to me, finally cutting smoothly

into the dark gray waves
below.


"Wow. It's so high." I slid back into my seat, still

staring wide-eyed at the two


remaining divers. "It must be a hundred feet."
"Well, yeah, most of us jump from lower down, that rock

that juts out from the
cliff about halfway." He pointed out his window. The

place he indicated did seem
much more reasonable. "Those guys are insane. Probably

showing off how tough
they are. I mean, really, it's freezing today. That

water can't feel good." He made
a disgruntled face, as if the stunt personally offended

him. It surprised me a little.



I would have thought Jacob was nearly impossible to

upset.
"You jump off the cliff?" I hadn't missed the "us."
"Sure, sure." He shrugged and grinned. "It's fun. A

little scary, kind of a rush."
I looked back at the cliffs, where the third figure was

pacing the edge. I'd never


witnessed anything so reckless in all my life. My eyes

widened, and I smiled.


"Jake, you have to take me cliff diving."
He frowned back at me, his face disapproving. "Bella,

you just wanted to call an
ambulance for Sam," he reminded me. I was surprised

that he could tell who it
was from this distance.


"I want to try," I insisted, start ing to get out of

the car again.


Jacob grabbed my wrist. "Not today, all right? Can we

at least wait for a warmer
day?"
"Okay, fine," I agreed. With the door open, the glacial

breeze was raising goose


bumps on my arm. "But I want to go soon."


"Soon." He rolled his eyes. "Sometimes you're a little

strange, Bella. Do you
know that?"
I sighed. "Yes."
"And we're not jumping off the top."
I watched, fascinated, as the third boy made a running

start and flung himself


farther into the empty air than the other two. He

twisted and cartwheeled through
space as he fell, like he was skydiving. He looked

absolutely free—unthinking
and utterly irresponsible.


"Fine," I agreed. "Not the first time, anyway."
Now Jacob sighed.
"Are we going to try out the bikes or not?" he

demanded.



"Okay, okay," I said, tearing my eyes away from the

last person waiting on the
cliff. I put my seat belt back on and closed the door.

The engine was still running,
roaring as it idled. We started down the road again.


"So who were those guys—the crazy ones?" I wondered.
He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

"The La Push gang."
"You have a gang?" I asked. I realized that I sounded

impressed.
He laughed once at my reaction. "Not like that. I

swear, they're like hall monitors


gone bad. They don't start fights, they keep the

peace." He snorted. "There was
this guy from up somewhere by the Makah rez, big guy

too, scary-looking. Well,
word got around that he was selling meth to kids, and

Sam Uley and his disciples
ran him off our land. They're all about our land, and

tribe pride… it's getting
ridiculous. The worst part is that the council takes

them seriously. Embry said
that the council actually meets with Sam." He shook his

head, face full of
resentment. "Embry also heard from Leah Clearwater that

they call themselves
'protectors' or something like that."


Jacob's hands were clenched into fists, as if he'd like

to hit something. I'd never


seen this side of him.
I was surprised to hear Sam Uley's name. I didn't want

it to bring back the images
from my nightmare, so I made a quick observation to

distract myself. "You don't
like them very much."


"Does it show?" he asked sarcastically.
"Well… It doesn't sound like they're doing anything

bad." I tried to soothe him,


to make him cheerful again. "Just sort of annoyingly

goody-two-shoes for a
gang."
"Yeah. Annoying is a good word. They're always showing

off—like the cliff


thing. They act like… like, I don't know. Like tough

guys. I was hanging out at



the store with Embry and Quil once, last semester, and

Sam came by with his
followers, Jared and Paul. Quil said something, you

know how he's got a big
mouth, and it pissed Paul off. His eyes got all dark,

and he sort of smiled—no, he
showed his teeth but he didn't smile—and it was like he

was so mad he was
shaking or something. But Sam put his hand against

Paul's chest and shook his
head. Paul looked at him for a minute and calmed down.

Honestly, it was like
Sam was holding him back—like Paul was going to tear us

up if Sam didn't stop
him." He groaned. "Like a bad western. You know, Sam's

a pretty big guy, he's
twenty. But Paul's just sixteen, too, shorter than me

and not as beefy as Quil. I
think any one of us could take him."


"Tough guys," I agreed. I could see it in my head as he

described it, and it
reminded me of something… a trio of tall, dark men

standing very still and close
together in my father's living room. The picture was

sideways, because my head
was lying against the couch while Dr. Gerandy and

Charlie leaned over me…
Had that been Sam's gang?


I spoke quickly again to divert myself from the bleak

memories. "Isn't Sam a


little too old for this kind of thing?"
"Yeah. He was supposed to go to college, but he stayed.

And no one gave him
any crap about it, either. The whole council pitched a

fit when my sister turned
down a partial scholarship and got married. But, oh no,

Sam Uley can do no
wrong."


His face was set in unfamiliar lines of outrage—outrage

and something else I


didn't recognize at first.
"It all sounds really annoying and… strange. But I

don't get why you're taking it
so personally." I peeked over at his face, hoping I

hadn't offended him. He was
suddenly calm, staring out the side window.


"You just missed the turn," he said in an even voice.



I executed a very wide U-turn, nearly hitting a tree as

my circle ran the truck
halfway off the road.
"Thanks for the heads-up," I muttered as I started up

the side road.
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."
It was quiet for a brief minute.


"You can stop anywhere along here," he said softly.
I pulled over and cut the engine. My ears rang in the

silence that followed. We
both got out, and Jacob headed around to the back to

get the bikes. I tried to read
his expression. Something more was bothering him. I'd

hit a nerve.


He smiled halfheartedly as he pushed the red bike to my

side. "Happy late


birthday. Are you ready for this?"
"I think so." The bike suddenly looked intimidating,

frightening, as I realized I
would soon be astride it.


"We'll take it slow," he promised. I gingerly leaned

the motorcycle against the
truck's fender while he went to get his.
"Jake…"I hesitated as he came back around the truck.


"Yeah?"
"What's really bothering you? About the Sam thing, I

mean? Is there something
else?" I watched his face. He grimaced, but he didn't

seem angry. He looked at
the dirt and kicked his shoe against the front tire of

his bike again and again, like
he was keeping time.


He sighed. "It's just… the way they treat me. It creeps

me out." The words started
to rush out now. "You know, the council is supposed to

be made up of equals, but
if there was a leader, it would be my dad. I've never

been able to figure out why
people treat him the way they do. Why his opinion

counts the most. It's got



something to do with his father and his father's

father. My great-grandpa,
Ephraim Black, was sort of the last chief we had, and

they still listen to Billy,
maybe because of that.


"But I'm just like everyone else. Nobody treats me

special… until now."
That caught me off guard. "Sam treats you special?"
"Yeah," he agreed, looking up at me with troubled eyes.

"He looks at me like he's


waiting for something… like I'm going to join his

stupid gang someday. He pays


more attention to me than any of the other guys. I hate

it."
"You don't have to join anything." My voice was angry.

This was really upsetting
Jacob, and that infuriated me. Who did these

"protectors" think they were?


"Yeah." His foot kept up its rhythm against the tire.
"What?" I could tell there was more.
He frowned, his eyebrows pulling up in a way that

looked sad and worried rather


than angry. "It's Embry. He's been avoiding me lately."
The thoughts didn't seem connected, but I wondered if I

was to blame for the


problems with his friend. "You've been hanging out with

me a lot," I reminded
him, feeling selfish. I'd been monopolizing him.
"No, that's not it. It's not just me—it's Quil, too,

and everyone. Embry missed a


week of school, but he was never home when we tried to

see him. And when he
came back, he looked… he looked freaked out. Terrified.

Quil and I both tried to
get him to tell us what was wrong, but he wouldn't talk

to either one of us."


I stared at Jacob, biting my lip anxiously—he was

really frightened. But he didn't
look at me. He watched his own foot kicking the rubber

as if it belonged to
someone else. The tempo increased.


"Then this week, out of nowhere, Embry's hanging out

with Sam and the rest of
them. He was out on the cliffs today." His voice was

low and tense.



He finally looked at me. "Bella, they bugged him even

more than they bother me.
He didn't want anything to do with them. And now

Embry's following Sam
around like he's joined a cult.


"And that's the way it was with Paul. Just exactly the

same. He wasn't friends
with Sam at all. Then he stopped coming to school for a

few weeks, and, when he
came back, suddenly Sam owned him. I don't know what it

means. I can't figure it
out, and I feel like I have to, because Embry's my

friend and… Sam's looking at
me funny . . and…" He trailed off.


"Have you talked to Billy about this?" I asked. His

horror was spreading to me. I
had chills running on the back of my neck.
Now there was anger on his face. "Yes," he snorted.

"That was helpful."


"What did he say?"
Jacob's expression was sarcastic, and when he spoke,

his voice mocked the deep
tones of his father's voice. "It's nothing you need to

worry about now, Jacob. In a
few years, if you don't… well, I'll explain later." And

then his voice was his own.
"What am I supposed to get from that? Is he trying to

say it's some stupid
puberty, coming-of-age thing? This is something else.

Something wrong."


He was biting his lower lip and clenching his hands. He

looked like he was about


to cry.
I threw my arms around him instinctively, wrapping them

around his waist and
pressing my face against his chest. He was so big, I

felt like I was a child hugging
a grown-up.


"Oh, Jake, it'll be okay!" I promised. "If it gets

worse you can come live with me


and Charlie. Don't be scared, we'll think of

something!"
He was frozen for a second, and then his long arms

wrapped hesitantly around
me. "Thanks, Bella." His voice was huskier than usual.



We stood like that for a moment, and it didn't upset

me; in fact, I felt comforted
by the contact. This didn't feel anything like the last

time someone had embraced
me this way. This was friendship. And Jacob was very

warm.


It was strange for me, being this close—emotionally

rather than physically,
though the physical was strange for me, too—to another

human being. It wasn't
my usual style. I didn't normally relate to people so

easily, on such a basic level.


Not human beings.
"If this is how you're going to react, I'll freak out

more often." Jacob's voice was


light, normal again, and his laughter rumbled against

my ear. His fingers touched
my hair, soft and tentative.
Well, it was friendship for me.
I pulled away quickly, laughing with him, but

determined to put things back in


perspective at once.
"It's hard to believe I'm two years older than you," I

said, emphasizing the word


older. "You make me feel like a dwarf." Standing this

close to him, I really had to
crane my neck to see his face.
"You're forgetting I'm in my forties, of course."
"Oh, that's right."
He patted my head. "You're like a little doll," he

teased. "A porcelain doll."
I rolled my eyes, taking another step away. "Let's not

start with the albino cracks."
"Seriously, Bella, are you sure you're not?" He

stretched his russet arm out next


to mine. The difference wasn't flattering. "I've never

seen anyone paler than
you… well, except for—" He broke off, and I looked

away, trying to not
understand what he had been about to say.


"So are we going to ride or what?"



"Let's do it," I agreed, more enthusiastic than I would

have been half a minute
ago. His unfinished sentence reminded me of why I was

here.


8. ADRENALINE
"OKAY, WHERE'S YOUR CLUTCH?"
I pointed to the lever on my left handlebar. Letting go

of the grip was a mistake.


The heavy bike wobbled underneath me, threatening to

knock me sidewise. I
grabbed the handle again, trying to hold it straight.
"Jacob, it won't stay up," I complained.
"It will when you're moving," he promised. "Now where's

your brake?"
"Behind my right foot."
"Wrong."
He grabbed my right hand and curled my fingers around

the lever over the


throttle.
"But you said—"
"This is the brake you want. Don't use the back brake

now, that's for later, when


you know what you're doing."


"That doesn't sound right," I said suspiciously.

"Aren't both brakes kind of
important?"
"Forget the back brake, okay? Here—" He wrapped his

hand around mine and


made me squeeze the lever down. "That is how you brake.

Don't forget." He
squeezed my hand another time.
"Fine," I agreed.



"Throttle?"
I twisted the right grip.
"Gearshift?"
I nudged it with my left calf.
"Very good. I think you've got all the parts down. Now

you just have to get it


moving."
"Uh-huh," I muttered, afraid to say more. My stomach

was contorting strangely
and I thought my voice might crack. I was terrified. I

tried to tell myself that the
fear was pointless. I'd already lived through the worst

thing possible. In


comparison with that, why should anything frighten me

now? I should be able to
look death in the face and laugh.
My stomach wasn't buying it.
I stared down the long stretch of dirt road, bordered

by thick misty green on


every side. The road was sandy and damp. Better than

mud.
"I want you to hold down the clutch," Jacob instructed.
I wrapped my fingers around the clutch.
"Now this is crucial, Bella," Jacob stressed. "Don't

let go of that, okay? I want


you to pretend that I've handed you a live grenade. The

pin is out and you are
holding down the spoon."
I squeezed tighter.


"Good. Do you think you can kick-start it?"
"If I move my foot, I will fall over," I told him

through gritted teeth, my fingers
tight around my live grenade.


"Okay, I'll do it. Don't let go of the clutch."
He took a step back, and then suddenly slammed his foot

down on the pedal.



There was a short ripping noise, and the force of his

thrust rocked the bike. I
started to fall sideways, but Jake caught the bike

before it knocked me to the
ground.


"Steady there," he encouraged. "Do you still have the

clutch?"
"Yes," I gasped.
"Plant your feet—I'm going to try again." But he put

his hand on the back of the


seat, too, just to be safe.


It took four more kicks before the ignition caught. I

could feel the bike rumbling
beneath me like an angry animal. I gripped the clutch

until my fingers ached.
"Try out the throttle," he suggested. "Very lightly.

And don't let go of the clutch."
Hesitantly, I twisted the right handle. Though the

movement was tiny, the bike


snarled beneath me. It sounded angry and hungry now.

Jacob smiled in deep
satisfaction.
"Do you remember how to put it into first gear?" he

asked.
"Yes."
"Well, go ahead and do it."
"Okay."
He waited for a few seconds.
"Left foot," he prompted.
"I know," I said, taking a deep breath.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jacob asked. "You

look scared."
"I'm fine," I snapped. I kicked the gearshift down one

notch.
"Very good," he praised me. "Now, very gently, ease up

on the clutch."
He took a step away from the bike.



"You want me to let go of the grenade?" I asked in

disbelief. No wonder he was
moving back.


"That's how you move, Bella. Just do it little by

little."
As I began to loosen my grip, I was shocked to be

interrupted by a voice that did
not belong to the boy standing next to me.


"This is reckless and childish and idiotic, Bella," the

velvet voice fumed.
"Oh!" I gasped, and my hand fell off the clutch.
The bike bucked under me, yanking me forward and then

collapsing to the


ground half on top of me. The growling engine choked to

a stop.
"Bella?" Jacob jerked the heavy bike off me with ease.

"Are you hurt?"
But I wasn't listening.
"I told you so," the perfect voice murmured, crystal

clear.
"Bella?" Jacob shook my shoulder.
"I'm fine," I mumbled, dazed.
More than fine. The voice in my head was back. It still

rang in my ears—soft,


velvety echoes.
My mind ran swiftly through the possibilities. There

was no familiarity here—on
a road I'd never seen, doing something I'd never done

before—no deja vu So the
hallucinations must be triggered by something else… I

felt the adrenaline


coursing through my veins again, and I thought I had

the answer. Some
combination of adrenaline and danger, or maybe just

stupidity.
Jacob was pulling me to my feet.
"Did you hit your head?" he asked.
"I don't think so." I shook it back and forth,

checking. "I didn't hurt the bike, did


I?" This thought worried me. I was anxious to try

again, right away. Being



reckless was paying off better than I'd thought. Forget

cheating. Maybe I'd found


a way to generate the hallucinations—that was much more

important.
"No. You just stalled the engine," Jacob said,

interrupting my quick speculations.
"You let go of the clutch too fast."


I nodded. "Let's try again."
"Are you sure?" Jacob asked.
"Positive."
This time I tried to get the kick-start myself. It was

complicated; I had to jump a


little to slam down on the pedal with enough force, and

every time I did that, the
bike tried to knock me over. Jacob's hand hovered over

the handlebars, ready to
catch me if I needed him.


It took several good tries, and even more poor tries,

before the engine caught and
roared to life under me. Remembering to hold on to the

grenade, I revved the
throttle experimentally. It snarled at the slightest

touch. My smile mirrored
Jacob's now.


"Easy on the clutch," he reminded me.


"Do you want to kill yourself, then? Is that what this

is about?" the other voice
spoke again, his tone severe.
I smiled tightly—it was still working—and ignored the

questions. Jacob wasn't


going to let anything serious happen to me.


"Go home to Charlie," the voice ordered. The sheer

beauty of it amazed me. I
couldn't allow my memory to lose it, no matter the

price.
"Ease off slowly," Jacob encouraged me.
"I will," I said. It bothered me a bit when I realized

I was answering both of them.
The voice in my head growled against the roar of the

motorcycle.



Trying to focus this time, to not let the voice startle

me again, I relaxed my hand
by tiny degrees. Suddenly, the gear caught and wrenched

me forward.


And I was flying.
There was wind that wasn't there before, blowing my

skin against my skull and
flinging my hair back behind me with enough force that

it felt like someone was
tugging on it. I'd left my stomach back at the starting

point; the adrenaline
coursed through my body, tingling in my veins. The

trees raced past me, blurring
into a wall of green.


But this was only first gear. My foot itched toward the

gearshift as I twisted for


more gas.
"No, Bella!" the angry, honey-sweet voice ordered in my

ear. "Watch what you're
doing!"


It distracted me enough from the speed to realize that

the road was starting a slow


curve to the left, and I was still going straight.

Jacob hadn't told me how to turn.
"Brakes, brakes," I muttered to myself, and I

instinctively slammed down with
my right foot, like I would in my truck.


The bike was suddenly unstable underneath me, shivering

first to one side and
then the other. It was dragging me toward the green

wall, and I was going too
fast. I tried to turn the handlebar the other

direction, and the sudden shift of my
weight pushed the bike toward the ground, still

spinning toward the trees.


The motorcycle landed on top of me again, roaring

loudly, pulling me across the
wet sand until it hit something stationary. I couldn't

see. My face was mashed
into the moss. I tried to lift my head, but there was

something in the way.


I was dizzy and confused. It sounded like there were

three things snarling—the
bike over me, the voice in my head, and something else…
"Bella!" Jacob yelled, and I heard the roar of the

other bike cut off.



The motorcycle no longer pinned me to the ground, and I

rolled over to breathe.


All the growling went silent.
"Wow," I murmured. I was thrilled. This had to be it,

the recipe for a hallucination
—adrenaline plus clanger plus stupidity. Something

close to that, anyway.


"Bella!" Jacob was crouching over me anxiously. "Bella,

are you alive?"


"I'm great!" I enthused. I flexed my arms and legs.

Everything seemed to be
working correctly. "Let's do it again."
"I don't think so." Jacob still sounded worried. "I

think I'd better drive you to the


hospital first."
"I'm fine."
"Um, Bella? You've got a huge cut on your forehead, and

it's gushing blood," he


informed me.


I clapped my hand over my head. Sure enough, it was wet

and sticky. I could
smell nothing but the damp moss on my face, and that

held off the nausea.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Jacob." I pushed hard against the

gash, as if I could force the


blood back inside my head.
"Why are you apologizing for bleeding?" he wondered as

he wrapped a long arm


around my waist and pulled me to my feet. "Let's go.

I'll drive." He held out his
hand for the keys.
"What about the bikes?" I asked, handing them over.
He thought for a second. "Wait here. And take this." He

pulled off his T-shirt,


already spotted with blood, and threw it to me. I

wadded it up and held it tightly
to my forehead. I was starting to smell the blood; I

breathed deeply through my
mouth and tried to concentrate on something else.


Jacob jumped on the black motorcycle, kicked it to a

start in one try, and raced



back down the road, spraying sand and pebbles behind

him. He looked athletic
and professional as he leaned over the handlebars, head

low, face forward, his
shiny hair whipping against the russet skin of his

back. My eyes narrowed
enviously. I was sure I hadn't looked like that on my

motorcycle.


I was surprised at how far I'd gone. I could barely see

Jacob in the distance when
he finally got to the truck. He threw the bike into the

bed and sprinted to the
driver's side.


I really didn't feel bad at all as he coaxed my truck

to a deafening roar in his
hurry to get back to me. My head stung a little, and my

stomach was uneasy, but
the cut wasn't serious. Head wounds just bled more than

most. His urgency wasn't
necessary.


Jacob left the truck running as he raced back to me,

wrapping his arm around my
waist again.


"Okay, let's get you in the truck."
"I'm honestly fine," I assured him as he helped me in.

"Don't get worked up. It's
just a little blood."


"Just a lot of blood," I heard him mutter as he went

back for my bike.
"Now, let's think about this for a second," I began

when he got back in. "If you


take me to the ER like this, Charlie is sure to hear

about it." I glanced down at the
sand and dirt caked into my jeans.
"Bella, I think you need stitches. I'm not going to let

you bleed to death."
"I won't," I promised. "Let's just take the bikes back

first, and then we'll make a


stop at my house so I can dispose of the evidence

before we go to the hospital."
"What about Charlie?"
"He said he had to work today."
"Are you really sure?"



"Trust me. I'm an easy bleeder. It's not nearly as dire

as it looks."
Jacob wasn't happy—his full mouth turned down in an

uncharacteristic frown—


but he didn't want to get me in trouble. I stared out

the window, holding his
ruined shirt to my head, while he drove me to Forks.
The motorcycle was better than I'd dreamed. It had

served its original purpose. I'd


cheated—broken my promise. I'd been needlessly

reckless. I felt a little less


pathetic now that the promises had been broken on both

sides.
And then to discover the key to the hallucinations! At

least, I hoped I had. I was
going to test the theory as soon as possible. Maybe

they'd get through with me
quickly in the ER, and I could try again tonight.


Racing down the road like that had been amazing. The

feel of the wind in my
face, the speed and the freedom… it reminded me of a

past life, flying through
the thick forest without a road, piggyback while he

ran—I stopped thinking right
there, letting the memory break off in the sudden

agony. I flinched.


"You still okay?" Jacob checked.
"Yeah." I tried to sound as convincing as before.
"By the way," he added. "I'm going to disconnect your

foot brake tonight."
At home, I went to look at myself in the mirror first

thing; it was pretty


gruesome. Blood was drying in thick streaks across my

cheek and neck, matting
in my muddy hair. I examined myself clinically,

pretending the blood was paint
so it wouldn't upset my stomach. I breathed through my

mouth, and was fine.


I washed up as well as I could. Then I hid my dirty,

bloody clothes in the bottom
of my laundry basket, putting on new jeans and a

button-up shirt (that I didn't
have to pull over my head) as carefully as I could. I

managed to do this one-
handed and keep both garments blood-free.



"Hurry up," Jacob called.


"Okay, okay," I shouted back. After making sure I left

nothing incriminating
behind me, I headed downstairs.
"How do I look?" I asked him.
"Better," he admitted.
"But do I look like I tripped in your garage and hit my

head on a hammer?"
"Sure, I guess so."
"Let's go then."
Jacob hurried me out the door, and insisted on driving

again. We were halfway to


the hospital when I realized he was still shirtless.
I frowned guiltily. "We should have grabbed you a

jacket."
"That would have given us away," he teased. "Besides,

it's not cold."
"Are you kidding?" I shivered and reached out to turn

the heat on.
I watched Jacob to see if he was just playing tough so

I wouldn't worry, but he


looked comfortable enough. He had one arm over the back

of my seat, though I


was huddled up to keep warm.
Jacob really did look older than sixteen—not quite

forty, but maybe older than
me. Quil didn't have too much on him in the muscle

department, for all that Jacob
claimed to be a skeleton. The muscles were the long

wiry kind, but they were
definitely there under the smooth skin. His skin was

such a pretty color, it made
me jealous.


Jacob noticed my scrutiny.
"What?" he asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"Nothing. I just hadn't realized before. Did you know,

you're sort of beautiful?"
Once the words slipped out, I worried that he might

take my impulsive



observation the wrong way.
But Jacob just rolled his eyes. "You hit your head

pretty hard, didn't you?"
"I'm serious."
"Well, then, thanks. Sort of."
I grinned. "You're sort of welcome."
I had to have seven stitches to c lose the cut on my

forehead. After the sting of


the local anesthetic, there was no pain in the

procedure. Jacob held my hand


while Dr. Snow was sewing, and I tried not to think

about why that was ironic.
We were at the hospital forever. By the time I was

done, I had to drop Jacob off
at his home and hurry back to cook dinner for Charlie.

Charlie seemed to buy my
story about falling in Jacob's garage. After all, it

wasn't like I hadn't been able to
land myself in the ER before with no more help than my

own feet.


This night was not as bad as that first night, after

I'd heard the perfect voice in
Port Angeles. The hole came back, the way it always did

when I was away from
Jacob, but it didn't throb so badly around the edges. I

was already planning ahead,
looking forward to more delusions, and that was a

distraction. Also, I knew I
would feel better tomorrow when I was with Jacob again.

That made the empty
hole and the familiar pain easier to bear; relief was

in sight. The nightmare, too,
had lost a little of its potency. I was horrified by

the nothingness, as always, but I
was also strangely impatient as I waited for the moment

that would send me
screaming into consciousness. I knew the nightmare had

to end.


The next Wednesday, before I could get home from the

ER, Dr. Gerandy called
to warn my father that I might possibly have a

concussion and advised him to
wake me up every two hours through the night to make

sure it wasn't serious.
Charlie's eyes narrowed suspiciously at my weak

explanation about tripping
again.



"Maybe you should just stay out of the garage

altogether, Bella," he suggested


that night during dinner.
I panicked, worried that Charlie was about to lay down

some kind of edict that
would prohibit La Push, and consequently my motorcycle.

And I wasn't giving it
up—I'd had the most amazing hallucination today. My

velvet-voiced delusion
had yelled at me for almost five minutes before I'd hit

the brake too abruptly and
launched myself into the tree. I'd take whatever pain

that would cause me tonight
without complaint.


"This didn't happen in the garage," I protested

quickly. "We were hiking, and I
tripped over a rock."


"Since when do you hike?" Charlie asked skeptically.
"Working at Newton's was bound to rub off sometime," I

pointed out. "Spend
every day selling all the virtues of the outdoors,

eventually you get curious."


Charlie glared at me, unconvinced.


"I'll be more careful," I promised, surreptitiously

crossing my fingers under the
table.
"I don't mind you hiking right there around La Push,

but keep close to town,


okay?"
"Why?"
"Well, we've been getting a lot of wildlife complaints

lately. The forestry


department is going to check into it, but for the time

being…"
"Oh, the big bear," I said with sudden comprehension.

"Yeah, some of the hikers


coming through Newton's have seen it. Do you think

there's really some giant
mutated grizzly out there?"
His forehead creased. "There's something. Keep it close

to town, okay?"
"Sure, sure," I said quickly. He didn't look completely

appeased.



"Charlie's getting nosy," I complained to Jacob when I

picked him up after school


Friday.
"Maybe we should cool it with the bikes." He saw my

objecting expression and
added, "At least for a week or so. You could stay out

of the hospital for a week,
right?"


"What are we going to do?" I griped.
He smiled cheerfully. "What ever you want."
I thought about that for a minute—about what I wanted.
I hated the idea of losing even my brief seconds of

closeness with the memories


that didn't hurt—the ones that came on their own,

without me thinking of them
consciously. If I couldn't have the bikes, I was going

to have to find some other
avenue to the danger and the adrenaline, and that was

going to take serious
thought and creativity. Doing nothing in the meantime

was not appealing.
Suppose I got depressed again, even with Jake? I had to

keep occupied.


Maybe there was some other way, some other recipe… some

other place.
The house had been a mistake, certainly. But his

presence must be stamped
somewhere, somewhere other than inside me. There had to

be a place where he


seemed more real than among all the familiar landmarks

that were crowded with
other human memories.
I could think of one place where that might hold true.

One place that would


always belong to him and no one else. A magic place,

full of light. The beautiful


meadow I'd seen only once in my life, lit by sunshine

and the sparkle of his skin.
This idea had a huge potential for backfiring—it might

be dangerously painful.
My chest ached with emptiness even to think of it. It

was hard to hold myself
upright, to not give myself away. But surely, there of

all places, I could hear his
voice. And I'd already told Charlie I was hiking…



"What are you thinking about so hard?" Jacob asked.
"Well…" I began slowly. "I found this place in the

forest once—I came across it


when I was, um, hiking. A little meadow, the most

beautiful place. I don't know if
I could track it down again on my own. It would

definitely take a few tries…"
"We could use a compass and a grid pattern," Jacob said

with confident


helpfulness. "Do you know where you started from?"


"Yes, just below the trailhead where the one-ten ends.

I was going mostly south, I
think."
"Cool. We'll find it." As always, Jacob was game for

anything I wanted. No


matter how strange it was.
So, Saturday afternoon, I tied on my new hiking

boots—purchased that morning


using my twenty-per-cent-off employee discount for the

first time—grabbed my
new topographical map of the Olympic Peninsula, and

drove to La Push.
We didn't get started immediately; first, Jacob

sprawled across the living room


floor—taking up the whole room—and, for a full twenty

minutes, drew a
complicated web across the key section of the map while

I perched on a kitchen
chair and talked to Billy. Billy didn't seem at all

concerned about our proposed
hiking trip. I was surprised that Jacob had told him

where we were going, given
the fuss people were making about the bear sightings. I

wanted to ask Billy not to
say anything about this to Charlie, but I was afraid

that making the request would
cause the opposite result.


"Maybe we'll see the super bear," Jacob joked, eyes on

his design.
I glanced at Billy swiftly, fearing a Charlie-style

reaction.
But Billy just laughed at his son. "Maybe you should

take a jar of honey, just in


case."



Jake chuckled. "Hope your new boots are fast, Bella.

One little jar isn't going to
keep a hungry bear occupied for long."


"I only have to be faster than you."
"Good luck with that!" Jacob said, rolling his eyes as

he refolded the map. "Let's
go."


"Have fun," Billy rumbled, wheeling himself toward the

refrigerator.


Charlie was not a hard person to live with, but it

looked to me like Jacob had it
even easier than I did.
I drove to the very end of the dirt road, stopping near

the sign that marked the


beginning of the trailhead. It had been a long time

since I'd been here, and my
stomach reacted nervously. This might be a very bad

thing. But it would be worth
it, if I got to hear him.


I got out and looked at the dense wall of green.
"I went this way," I murmured, pointing straight ahead.
"Hmm," Jake muttered.
"What?"
He looked at the direction I'd pointed, then at the

clearly marked trail, and back.
"I would have figured you for a trail kind of girl."
"Not me." I smiled bleakly. "I'm a rebel."
He laughed, and then pulled out our map.
"Give me a second." He held the compass in a skilled

way, twisting the map


around till it angled the way he wanted.
"Okay—first line on the grid. Let's do it."
I could tell that I was slowing Jacob up, but he didn't

complain. I tried not to


dwell on my last trip through this part of the forest,

with a very different



companion. Normal memories were still cangerous. If I

let myself slip up, I'd end
up with my arms clutching my chest to hold it together,

gasping for air, and how
would I explain that to Jacob?


It wasn't as hard as I would have thought to keep

focused on the present. The
forest looked a lot like any other part of the

peninsula, and Jacob set a vastly
different mood.


He whistled cheerfully, an unfamiliar tune, swinging

his arms and moving easily
through the rough undergrowth. The shadows didn't seem

as dark as usual. Not
with my personal sun along.


Jacob checked the compass every few minutes, keeping us

in a straight line with
one of the radiating spokes of his grid. He really

looked like he knew what he
was doing. I was going to compliment him, but I caught

myself. No doubt he'd
add another few years to his inflated age.


My mind wandered as I walked, and I grew curious. I

hadn't forgotten the
conversation we'd had by the sea cliffs—I'd been

waiting for him to bring it up
again, but it didn't look like that was going to

happen.


"Hey… Jake?" I asked hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
"How are things… with Embry? Is he back to normal yet?"
Jacob was silent for a minute, still moving forward

with long paces. When he was


about ten feet ahead, he stopped to wait for me.
"No. He's not back to normal," Jacob said when I

reached him, his mouth pulling


down at the corners. He didn't start walking again. I

immediately regretted
bringing it up.
"Still with Sam."
"Yup."



He put his arm around my shoulder, and he looked so

troubled that I didn't
playfully shake it off, as I might have otherwise.
"Are they still looking at you funny?" I

half-whispered.
Jacob stared through the trees. "Sometimes."
"And Billy?"
"As helpful as ever," he said in a sour, angry voice

that disturbed me.


"Our couch is always open," I offered.
He laughed, breaking out of the unnatural gloom. "But

think of the position that
would put Charlie in—when Billy calls the police to

report my kidnapping."


I laughed too, glad to have Jacob back to normal.
We stopped when Jacob said we'd gone six miles, cut

west for a short time, and
headed back along another line of his grid. Everything

looked exactly the same as
the way in, and I had a feeling that my silly quest was

pretty much doomed. I


admitted as much when it started to get darker, the

sunless day fading toward a
starless night, but Jacob was more confident.
"As long as you're sure we're starting from the right

place…" He glanced down at


me.
"Yes, I'm sure."
"Then we'll find it," he promised, grabbing my hand and

pulling me through a


mass of ferns. On the other side was the truck. He

gestured toward it proudly.
"Trust me."
"You're good," I admitted. "Next time we bring

flashlights, though."


"We'll save hiking for Sundays from now on. I didn't

know you were that slow."
I yanked my hand back and stomped around to the

driver's side while he chuckled
at my reaction.



"So you up for another try tomorrow.'" he asked,

sliding into the passenger seat.


"Sure. Unless you want to go without me so I don't tie

you down to my gimpy
pace."
"I'll survive," he assured me. "If we're hiking again,

though, you might want to


pick up some moleskin. I bet you can feel those new

boots right now."
"A little," I confessed. It felt like I had more

blisters than I had space to fit them.
"I hope we see the bear tomorrow. I'm sort of

disappointed about that."
"Yes, me, too," I agreed sarcastically. "Maybe we'll

get lucky tomorrow and


something will eat us!"


"Bears don't want to eat people. We don't taste that

good." He grinned at me in
the dark cab. "Of course, you might be an exception. I

bet you'd taste good."
"Thanks so much," I said, looking away. He wasn't the

first person to tell me that.



9. THIRD WHEEL
TIME BEGAN TO TRIP ALONG MUCH MORE QUICKLY than before.
School, work, and Jacob—though not necessarily in that

order—created a neat
and effortless pattern to follow. And Charlie got his

wish: I wasn't miserable
anymore. Of course, I couldn't fool myself completely.

When I stopped to take
stock of my life, which I tried not to do too often, I

couldn't ignore the
implications of my behavior.


I was like a lost moon—my planet destroyed in some

cataclysmic, disaster-movie
scenario of desolation—that continued, nevertheless, to

circle in a tight little orbit
around the empty space left behind, ignoring the laws

of gravity.


I was getting better with my bike, which meant fewer

bandages to worry Charlie.
But it also meant that the voice in my head began to

fade, until I heard it no more.
Quietly, I panicked. I threw myself into the search for

the meadow with slightly
frenzied intensity. I racked my brain for other

adrenaline-producing activities.


I didn't keep track of the days :hat passed—there was

no reason, as I tried to live
as much in the present as possible, no past fading, no

future impending. So I was
surprised by the date when Jacob brought it up on one

of our homework days. He
was waiting when I pulled up in front of his house.


"Happy Valentine's Day," Jacob said, smiling, but

ducking his head as he greeted
me.
He held out a small, pink box, balancing it on his

palm. Conversation hearts.



"Well, I feel like a schmuck," I mumbled. "Is today

Valentine's Day?"
Jacob shook his head with mock sadness. "You can be so

out of it sometimes.


Yes, it is the fourteenth day of February. So are you

going to be my Valentine?
Since you didn't get me a fifty-cent box of candy, it's

the least you can do."
I started to feel uncomfortable. The words were

teasing, but only on the surface.
"What exactly does that entail?" I hedged.
"The usual—slave for life, that kind of thing."
"Oh, well, if that's all…" I took the candy. But I was

trying to think of some way


to make the boundaries clear. Again. They seemed to get

blurred a lot with Jacob.
"So, what are we doing tomorrow? Hiking, or the ER?"
"Hiking," I decided. "You're not the only one who can

be obsessive. I'm starting


to think I imagined that place…" I frowned into space.
"We'll find it," he assured me. "Bikes Friday?" he

offered.
I saw a chance and took it without taking time to think

it through.
"I'm going to a movie Friday. I've been promising my

cafeteria crowd that I


would go out forever." Mike would be pleased.


But Jacob's face fell. I caught the expression in his

dark eyes before he dropped
them to look at the ground.
"You'll come too, right?" I added quickly. "Or will it

be too much of a drag with a


bunch of boring seniors?" So much for my chance to put

some distance between
us. I couldn't stand hurting Jacob; we seemed to be

connected in an odd way, and
his pain set off little stabs of my own. Also, the idea

of having his company for
the ordeal—I had promised Mike, but really didn't feel

any enthusiasm at the
thought of following through—was just too tempting.


"You'd like me to come, with your friends there?"



"Yes," I admitted honestly, knowing as I continued that

I was probably shooting
myself in the foot with my words. "I'll have a lot more

fun if you're there. Bring
Quil, and we'll make it a party."


"Quil's gonna freak. Senior girls." He chortled and

rolled his eyes. I didn't
mention Embry, and neither did he. I laughed, too.

"I'll try to get hin a good
selection."


I broached the subject with Mike in English.
"Hey, Mike," I said when class was over. "Are you free

Friday night?"
He looked up, his blue eyes instantly hopeful. "Yeah, I

am. You want to go out?"
I worded my reply carefully. "I was thinking about

getting a group"—I


emphasized the word—"together to go see Crosshairs."

I'd done my homework
this time—even reading the movie spoilers to be sure I

wouldn't be caught off
guard. This movie was supposed to be a bloodbath from

start to finish. I wasn't so
recovered that I could stand to sit through a romance.

"Does that sound like fun?"


"Sure," he agreed, visibly less eager.
"Cool."
After a second, he perked back up to near his former

excitement level. "How


about we get Angela and Ben? Or Eric and Katie?"
He was determined to make this some kind of double

date, apparently.
"How about both?" I suggested "And Jessica, too, of

course. And Tyler and


Conner, and maybe Lauren," I tacked on grudgingly. I

had promised Quil variety.
"Okay," Mike muttered, foiled.
"And," I continued, "I've got a couple of friends from

La Push I'm inviting. So it


sounds like we'll need your Suburban if everyone

comes."
Mike's eyes narrowed in suspicion.



"These are the friends you spend all your time studying

with now?"


"Yep, the very ones," I answered cheerfully. "Though

you could look at it as
tutoring—they're only sophomores."
"Oh," Mike said, surprised. After a second of thought,

he smiled.
In the end, though, the Suburban wasn't necessary.
Jessica and Lauren claimed to be busy as soon as Mike

let it slip that I was


involved in the planning. Eric and Katie already had

plans—it was their three-
week anniversary or something. Lauren got to Tyler and

Conner before Mike
could, so those two were also busy. Even Quil was

out—grounded for fighting at
school. In the end, only Angela and Ben, and, of course

Jacob, were able to go.


The diminished numbers didn't dampen Mike's

anticipation, though. It was all he


could talk about Friday.
"Are you sure you don't want to see Tomorrow and

Forever instead?" he asked at
lunch, naming the current romantic comedy that was

ruling the box office.
"Rotten Tomatoes gave it a better review."


"I want to see Crosshairs" I insisted. "I'm in the mood

for action. Bring on the


blood and guts!"
"Okay." Mike turned away, but not before I saw his

maybe-she's-crazy-after-all
expression.


When I got home from school, a very familiar car was

parked in front of my


house. Jacob was leaning against the hood, a huge grin

lighting up his face.
"No way!" I shouted as I jumped out of the truck.

"You're done! I can't believe it!
You finished the Rabbit!"


He beamed. "Just last night. This is the maiden

voyage."
"Incredible." I held my hand up for a high five.



He smacked his hand against mine, but left it there,

twisting his fingers through
mine. "So do I get to drive tonight?"
"Definitely," I said, and then I sighed.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm giving up—I can't top this one. So you win. You're

oldest."


He shrugged, unsurprised by my capitulation. "Of course

I am."
Mike's Suburban chugged around the corner. I pulled my

hand out of Jacob's, and
he nude a face that I wasn't meant to see.


"I remember this guy," he said in a low voice as Mike

parked across the street.
"The one who thought you were his girlfriend. Is he

still confused?"
I raised one eyebrow. "Some people are hard to

discourage."
"Then again," Jacob said thoughtfully, "sometimes

persistence pays off."
"Most of the time it's just annoying, though."


Mike got out of his car and crossed the road.
"Hey, Bella," he greeted me, and then his eyes turned

wary as he looked up at
Jacob. I glanced briefly at Jacob, too, trying to be

objective. He really didn't look
like a sophomore at all. He was just so big—Mike's head

barely cleared Jacob's
shoulder; I didn't even want to think where I measured

next to him—and then his
face was older-looking than it used to be, even a month

ago.


"Hey, Mike! Do you remember Jacob Black?"
"Not really." Mike held out his hand.
"Old family friend," Jacob introduced himself, shaking

hands. They locked hands


with more force than necessary. When their grip broke,

Mike flexed his fingers.
I heard the phone ringing from the kitchen.
"I'd better get that—it might be Charlie," I told them,

and dashed inside.



It was Ben. Angela was sick with the stomach flu, and

he didn't feel like coming


without her. He apologized for bailing on us.
I walked slowly back to the waiting boys, shaking my

head. I really hoped
Angela would feel better soon, but I had to admit that

I was selfishly upset by this
development. Just the three of us, Mike and Jacob and

me, together for the
evening—this had worked out brilliantly, I thought with

grim sarcasm.


It didn't seem like Jake and Mike had made any progress

towards friendship in
my absence. They were several yards apart, facing away

from each other as they
waited for me; Mike's expression was sullen, though

Jacob's was cheerful as
always.


"Ang is sick," I told them glumly. "She and Ben aren't

coming."


"I guess the flu is making another round. Austin and

Conner were out today, too.
Maybe we should do this another time," Mike suggested.
Before I could agree, Jacob spoke.
"I'm still up for it. But if you'd rather to stay

behind, Mike—"
"No, I'm coming," Mike interrupted. "I was just

thinking of Angela and Ben.


Let's go." He started toward his Suburban.
"Hey, do you mind if Jacob drives?" I asked. "I told

him he could—he just


finished his car. He built it from scratch, all by

himself," I bragged, proud as a
PTA mom with a student on the principal's list.
"Fine," Mike snapped.
"All right, then," Jacob said, as if that settled

everything. He seemed more


comfortable than anyone else.
Mike climbed in the backseat of the Rabbit with a

disgusted expression.
Jacob was his normal sunny self, chattering away until

I'd all but forgotten Mike



sulking silently in the back.
And then Mike changed his strategy. He leaned forward,

resting his chin on the


shoulder of my seat; his cheek almost touched mine. I

shifted away, turning my


back toward the window.


"Doesn't the radio work in this thing?" Mike asked with

a hint of petulance,


interrupting Jacob mid-sentence.
"Yes," Jacob answered. "But Bella doesn't like music."
I stared at Jacob, surprised. I'd never told him that.
"Bella?" Mike asked, annoyed.
"He's right," I mumbled, still looking at Jacob's

serene profile.
"How can you not like music?" Mike demanded.
I shrugged. "I don't know. It just irritates me."
"Hmph." Mike leaned away.
When we got to the theater, Jacob handed me a

ten-dollar bill.
"What's this?" I objected.
"I'm not old enough to get into this one," he reminded

me.
I laughed out loud. "So much for relative ages. Is

Billy going to kill me if I sneak


you in?"
"No. I told him you were planning to corrupt my

youthful innocence."
I snickered, and Mike quickened his pace to keep up

with us.
I almost wished that Mike had decided to bow out. He

was still sullen—not much


of an addition to the party. But I didn't want to end

up on a date alone with Jacob,


either. That wouldn't help anything.


The movie was exactly what it professed to be. In just

the opening credits, four


people got blown up and one got beheaded. The girl in

front of me put her hands



over her eyes and turned her face into her date's

chest. He patted her shoulder,
and winced occasionally, too. Mike didn't look like he

was watching. His face
was stiff as he glared toward the fringe of curtain

above the screen.


I settled in to endure the two hours, watching the

colors and the movement on the
screen rather than seeing the shapes of people and cars

and houses. But then
Jacob started sniggering.


"What?" I whispered.


"Oh, c'mon!" he hissed back. "The blood squirted twenty

feet out of that guy.
How fake can you get?"
He chuckled again, as a flagpole speared another man

into a concrete wall.
After that, I really watched the show, laughing with

him as the mayhem got more


and more ridiculous. How was I ever going to fight the

blurring lines in our


relationship when I enjoyed being with him so much?
Both Jacob and Mike had claimed the armrests on either

side of me. Both of their
hands rested lightly, palms up, in an unnatural looking

position. Like steel bear
traps, open and ready. Jacob was in the habit of taking

my hand whenever the
opportunity presented itself, but here in the darkened

movie theater, with Mike
watching, it would have a different significance—and I

was sure he knew that. I
couldn't believe that Mike was thinking the same thing,

but his hand was placed
exactly like Jacob's.


I folded my arms tightly across my chest and hoped that

both their hands fell


asleep.
Mike gave up first. About halfway through the movie, he

pulled his arm back,
and leaned forward to put his head in his hands. At

first I thought he was reacting
to something on the screen, but then he moaned.


"Mike, are you okay?" I whispered.



The couple in front of us turned to look at him as he

groaned again.
I could see the sheen of sweat across his face in the

light from the screen.
Mike groaned again, and bolted for the door. I got up

to follow him, and Jacob


copied me immediately.
"No, stay," I whispered. "I'll make sure he's okay."
Jacob came with me anyway.
"You don't have to come. Get your eight bucks worth of

carnage," I insisted as


we walked up the aisle.


"That's okay. You sure can pick them, Bella. This movie

really sucks." His voice
rose from a whisper to its normal pitch as we walked

out of the theater.
There was no sign of Mike in the hallway, and I was

glad then that Jacob had


come with me—he ducked into the men's bathroom to check

for him there.
Jacob was back in a few seconds.
"Oh, he's in there, all right," he said, rolling his

eyes. "What a marshmallow. You


should hold out for someone with a stronger stomach.

Someone who laughs at the
gore that makes weaker men vomit."


"I'll keep my eyes open for someone like that."
We were all alone in the hallway. Both theaters were

halfway through the movie,
and it was deserted—quiet enough for us to hear the

popcorn popping at the
concession counter in the lobby.


Jacob went to sit on the velveteen-upholstered bench

against the wall, patting the


space beside him.
"He sounded like he was going to be in there for a

while," he said, stretching his
long legs out in front of him as he settled in to wait.


I joined him with a sigh. He looked like he was

thinking about blurring more



lines. Sure enough, as soon as I sat down, he shifted

over to put his arm around

my shoulders.

"Jake," I protested, leaning away. He dropped his arm,

not looking bothered at all

by the minor rejection. He reached out and took my hand

firmly, wrapping his

other hand around my wrist when I tried to pull away

again. Where did he get the

confidence from?


"Now, just hold on a minute, Bella," he said in a calm

voice. "Tell me something."


I grimaced. I didn't want to do this. Not just not now,

but not ever. There was


nothing lett in my life at this point that was more

important than Jacob Black. But
he seemed determined to ruin everything.
"What?" I muttered sourly.
"You like me, right?"
"You know I do."
"Better than that joker puking his guts out in there?"

He gestured toward the


bathroom door.
"Yes," I sighed.
"Better than any of the other guys you know?" He was

calm, serene—as if my


answer didn't matter, or he already knew what it was.
"Better than the girls, too," I pointed out.
"But that's all," he said, and it wasn't a question.
It was hard to answer, to say the word. Would he get

hurt and avoid me? How


would I stand that?
"Yes," I whispered.
He grinned down at me. "That's okay, you know. As long

as you like me the best.


And you think I'm good-looking—sort of. I'm prepared to

be annoyingly



persistent."


"I'm not going to change," I said, and though I tried

to keep my voice normal, I
could hear the sadness in it.
His face was thoughtful, no longer teasing. "It's still

the other one, isn't it?"
I cringed. Funny how he seemed to know not to say the

name—just like before in


the car with the music. He picked up on so much about

me that I never said.
"You don't have to talk about it," he told me.
I nodded, grateful.
"But don't get mad at me for hanging around, okay?"

Jacob patted the back of my


hand. "Because I'm not giving up. I've got loads of

time."


I sighed. "You shouldn't waste it on me," I said,

though I wanted him to.
Especially if he was willing to accept me the way I

was—damaged goods, as is.
"It's what I want to do, as long as you still like to

be with me."
"I can't imagine how I could not like being with you,"

I told him honestly.
Jacob beamed. "I can live with that."
"Just don't expect more," I warned him, trying to pull

my hand away. He held


onto it obstinately.
"This doesn't really bother you, does it?" he demanded,

squeezing my fingers.
"No," I sighed. Truthfully, it felt nice. His hand was

so much warmer than mine; I


always felt too cold these days.


"And you don't care what he thinks." Jacob jerked his

thumb toward the
bathroom.
"I guess not."
"So what's the problem?"
"The problem," I said, "is, that it means something

different to me than it does to



you."
"Well." He tightened his hand around mine "That's my

problem, isn't it?"
"Fine," I grumbled. "Don't forget it, though."
"I won't. The pin's out of the grenade for me, now,

eh?" He poked me in the ribs.
I rolled my eyes. I guess if he felt like making a joke

out of it, he was entitled.
He chuckled quietly for a minute while his pinky finger

absently traced designs


against the side of my hand.


"That's a funny scar you've got there," he suddenly

said, twisting my hand to
examine it. "How did that happen?"
The index finger of his free hand followed the line of

the long silvery crescent


that was barely visible against my pale skin.


I scowled. "Do you honestly expect me to remember where

all my scars come
from?"
I waited for the memory to hit—to open the gaping hole.

But, as it so often did,


Jacob's presence kept me whole.


"It's cold," he murmured, pressing lightly against the

place where James had cut
me with his teeth.
And then Mike stumbled out of the bathroom, his face

ashen and covered in


sweat. He looked horrible.
"Oh, Mike," I gasped.
"Do you mind leaving early?" he whispered.
"No, of course not." I pulled my hand free and went to

help Mike walk. He


looked unsteady.
"Movie too much for you?" Jacob asked heartlessly.



Mike's glare was malevolent. "I didn't actually see any

of it," he mumbled. "I was
nauseated before the lights went down."
"Why didn't you say something?" I scolded as we

staggered toward the exit.


"I was hoping it would pass," he said.
"Just a sec," Jacob said as we reached the door. He

walked quickly back to the
concession stand.


"Could I have an empty popcorn bucket?" he asked the

salesgirl. She looked at


Mike once, and then thrust a bucket at Jacob.
"Get him outside, please," she begged. She was

obviously the one who would
have to clean the floor.


I towed Mike out into the cool, wet air. He inhaled

deeply. Jacob was right
behind us. He helped me get Mike into the back of the

car, and handed him the
bucket with a serious gaze.


"Please," was all Jacob said.


We rolled down the windows, letting the icy night air

blow through the car,
hoping it would help Mike. I curled my arms around my

legs to keep warm.
"Cold, again?" Jacob asked, putting his arm around me

before I could answer.
"You're not?"
He shook his head.
"You must have a fever or something," I grumbled. It

was freezing. I touched my


fingers to his forehead, and his head was hot.
"Whoa, Jake—you're burning up!"
"I feel fine." He shrugged. "Fit as a fiddle."
I frowned and touched his head again. His skin blazed

under my fingers.
"Your hands are like ice," he complained.



"Maybe it's me," I allowed.
Mike groaned in the backseat, and threw up in the

bucket. I grimaced, hoping my


own stomach could stand the sound and smell. Jacob

checked anxiously over his
shoulder to make sure his car wasn't defiled.
The road felt longer on the way back.
Jacob was quiet, thoughtful. He left his arm around me,

and it was so warm that


the cold wind felt good.
I stared out the windshield, consumed with guilt.
It was so wrong to encourage Jacob. Pure selfishness.

It didn't matter that I'd tried


to make my position clear. If he felt any hope at all

that this could turn into


something other than friendship, then I hadn't been

clear enough.
How could I explain so that he would understand? I was

an empty shell. Like a
vacant house—condemned—for months I'd been utterly

uninhabitable. Now I
was a little improved. The front room was in better

repair. But that was all—just
the one small piece. He deserved better than

that—better than a one-room, falling-
down fixer-upper. No amount of investment on his part

could put me back in
working order.


Yet I knew that I wouldn't send him away, regardless. I

needed him too much,
and I was selfish. Maybe I could make my side more

clear, so that he would
know to leave me. The thought made me shudder, and

Jacob tightened his arm
around me.


I drove Mike home in his Suburban, while Jacob followed

behind us to take me
home. Jacob was quiet all the way back to my house, and

I wondered if he were
thinking the same things that I was. Maybe he was

changing his mind.


"I would invite myself in, since we're early," he said

as we pulled up next to my
truck. "But I think you might be right about the fever.

I'm starting to feel a little…



strange."
"Oh no, not you, too! Do you want me to drive you

home?"
"No." He shook his head, his eyebrows pulling together.

"I don't feel sick yet.


Just… wrong. If I have to, I'll pull over."
"Will you call me as soon as you get in?" I asked

anxiously.
"Sure, sure." He frowned, staring ahead into the

darkness and biting his lip.
I opened my door to get out, but he grabbed my wrist

lightly and held me there. I


noticed again how hot his skin felt on mine.
"What is it, Jake?" I asked.
"There's something I want to tell you, Bella… but I

think it's going to sound kind


of corny."
I sighed. This would be more of the same from the

theater. "Go ahead."
"It's just that, I know how you're unhappy a lot. And,

maybe it doesn't help


anything, but I wanted you to know that I'm always

here. I won't ever let you
down—I promise that you can always count on me. Wow,

that does sound corny.
But you know that, right? That I would never, ever hurt

you?"


"Yeah, Jake. I know that. And I already do count on

you, probably more than you


know."
The smile broke across his face the way the sunrise set

the clouds on fire, and I
wanted to cut my tongue out. I hadn't said one word

that was a lie, but I should
have lied. The truth was wrong, it would hurt him. I

would let him down.


A strange look crossed his face. "I really think I'd

better go home now," he said.
I got out quickly.
"Call me!" I yelled as he pulled away.
I watched him go, and he seemed to be in control of the

car, at least. I stared at



the empty street when he was gone, feeling a little

sick myself, but not for any


physical reason.
How much I wished that Jacob Black had been born my

brother, my flesh-and blood
brother, so that I would have some legitimate claim on

him that still left me
free of any blame now. Heaven knows I had never wanted

to use Jacob, but I
couldn't help but interpret the guilt I felt now to

mean that I had.


Even more, I had never meant to love him. One thing I

truly knew—knew it in
the pit of my stomach, in the center of my bones, knew

it from the crown of my
head to the soles of my feet, knew it deep in my empty

chest—was how love
gave someone the power to break you.


I'd been broken beyond repair.
But I needed Jacob now, needed him like a drug. I'd

used him as a crutch for too
long, and I was in deeper than I'd planned to go with

anyone again. Now I
couldn't bear for him to be hurt, and I couldn't keep

from hurting him, either. He


thought time and patience would change me, and, though

I knew he was dead
wrong, I also knew that I would let him try.
He was my best friend. I would always love him, and it

would never, ever be


enough.
I went inside to sit by the phone and bite my nails.
"Movie over already?" Charlie asked in surprise when I

came in. He was on the


floor, just a foot from the TV. Must be an exciting

game.
"Mike got sick," I explained. "Some kind of stomach

flu."
"You okay?"
"I feel fine now," I said doubtfully. Clearly, I'd been

exposed.
I leaned against the kitchen counter, my hand inches

from the phone, and tried to


wait patiently. I thought of the strange look on

Jacob's face before he drove away,



and my fingers started drumming against the counter. I

should have insisted on

driving him home.

I watched the clock as the minutes ticked by Ten.

Fifteen. Even when I was

driving, it took only fifteen minutes, and Jacob drove

faster than I did. Eighteen

minutes. I picked up the phone and dialed.


It rang and rang. Maybe Billy was asleep. Maybe I'd

dialed wrong. I tried again.


On the eighth ring, just as I was about to hang up,

Billy answered.


"Hello?" he asked. His voice was wary, like he was

expecting bad news.


"Billy, it's me, Bella—did Jake make it home yet? He

left here about twenty


minutes ago."
"He's here," Billy said tonelessly.
"He was supposed to call me." I was a little irritated.

"He was getting sick when


he left, and I was worried."


"He was… too sick to call. He's not feeling well right

now." Billy sounded


distant. I realized he must want to be with Jacob.


"Let me know if you need any help," I offered. "I could

come down." I thought of


Billy, stuck in his chair, and Jake fending for

himself…
"No, no," Billy said quickly. "We're fine. Stay at your

place."
The way he said it was almost rude.
"Okay," I agreed.
"Bye, Bella."
The line disconnected.
"Bye," I muttered.
Well, at least he'd made it home. Oddly, I didn't feel

less worried. I trudged up



the stairs, fretting. Maybe I would go down before work

tomorrow to check on
him. I could take soup—we had to have a can of

Campbell's around here
somewhere.


I realized all such plans were canceled when I woke up

early—my clock said four
thirty—and sprinted to the bathroom. Charlie found me

there a half hour later,
lying on the floor, my cheek pressed against the cold

edge of the bathtub.


He looked at me for a long moment.
"Stomach flu," he finally said.
"Yes," I moaned.
"You need something?" he asked.
"Call the Newtons for me, please," I instructed

hoarsely. "Tell them I have what


Mike has, and that I can't make it in today. Tell them

I'm sorry."
"Sure, no problem," Charlie assured me.
I spent the rest of the day on the bathroom floor,

sleeping for a few hours with


my head on a crumpled up towel. Charlie claimed that he

had to work, but I
suspected that he just wanted access to a bathroom. He

left a glass of water on the
floor beside me to keep me hydrated.


It woke me up when he came back home. I could see that

it was dark in my room
—after nightfall. He clumped up the stairs to check on

me.
"Still alive?"
"Sort of," I said.
"Do you want anything?"


"No, thanks."
He hesitated, clearly out of his element. "Okay, then,"

he said, and then he went
back down to the kitchen.



I heard the phone ring a few minutes later. Charlie

spoke to someone in a low
voice for a moment, and then hung up.


"Mike feels better," he called up to me.
Well, that was encouraging. He'd only gotten sick eight

hours or so before me.
Eight more hours. The thought made my stomach turn, and

I pulled myself up to
lean over the toilet.


I fell asleep on the towel again, but when I woke up I

was in my bed and it was
light outside my window. I didn't remember moving;

Charlie must have carried
me to my room—he'd also put the glass of water on my

bedside table. I felt
parched. I chugged it down, though it tasted funny from

sitting stagnant all night.


I got up slowly, trying not to trigger the nausea

again. I was weak, and my mouth
tasted horrible, but my stomach felt fine. I looked at

my clock.


My twenty-four hours were up.
I didn't push it, eating nothing but saltine crackers

for breakfast. Charlie looked
relieved to see me recovered.


As soon as I was sure that I wasn't going to have to

spend the day on the


bathroom floor again, I called Jacob.
Jacob was the one who answered, but when I heard his

greeting I knew he wasn't
over it.


"Hello?" His voice was broken, cracking.
"Oh, Jake," I groaned sympathetically. "You sound

horrible."
"I feel horrible," he whispered.
"I'm so sorry I made you go out with me. This sucks."
"I'm glad I went." His voice was still a whisper.

"Don't blame yourself. This isn't


your fault."



"You'll get better soon," I promised. "I woke up this

morning, and I was fine."
"You were sick?" he asked dully.
"Yes, I got it, too. But I'm fine now."
"That's good." His voice was dead.
"So you'll probably be better in a few hours," I

encouraged.
I could barely hear his answer. "I don't think I have

the same thing you did."
"Don't you have the stomach flu?" I asked, confused.
"No. This is something else."
"What's wrong with you?"
"Everything," he whispered. "Every part of me hurts."
The pain in his voice was nearly tangible.
"What can I do, Jake? What can I bring you?"
"Nothing. You can't come here." He was abrupt. It

reminded me of Billy the other


night.
"I've already been exposed to whatever you have," I

pointed out.
He ignored me. "I'll call you when I can. I'll let you

know when you can come


down again."
"Jacob—"
"I've got to go," he said with sudden urgency.
"Call me when you feel better."
"Right," he agreed, and his voice had a strange, bitter

edge.
He was silent for a moment. I was waiting for him to

say goodbye, but he waited


too.
"I'll see you soon," I finally said. "Wait for me to

call," he said again. "Okay…



Bye, Jacob."
"Bella," he whispered my name, and then hung up the

phone.



10. THE MEADOW
JACOB DIDN'T CALL.


The first time I called, Billy answered and told me

that Jacob was still in bed. I
got nosy, checking to make sure that Billy had taken

him to a doctor. Billy said
he had, but, for some reason I couldn't nail down, I

didn't really believe him. I
called again, several times a day, for the next two

days, but no one was ever there.


Saturday, I decided to go see him, invitation be

damned. But the little red house
was empty. This frightened me—was Jacob so sick that

he'd needed to go to the
hospital? I stopped by the hospital on the way back

home, but the nurse at the
front desk told me neither Jacob or Billy had been in.


I made Charlie call Harry Clearwater as soon as he got

home from work. I
waited, anxious, while Charlie chatted with his old

friend; the conversation
seemed to go on forever without Jacob even being

mentioned. It seemed that
Harry had been in the hospital . . some kind of tests

for his heart. Charlie's
forehead got all pinched together, but Harry joked with

him, blowing it off, until
Charlie was laughing again. Only then did Charlie ask

about Jacob, and now his
side of the conversation didn't give me much to work

with, just a lot of hmms and
yeahs. I drummed my fingers against the counter beside

him until he put a hand
over mine to stop me.


Finally, Charlie hung up the phone and turned to me.
"Harry says there's been some trouble with the phone

lines, and that's why you



haven't been able to get through. Billy took Jake to

the doc down there, and it
looks like he has mono. He's real tired, and Billy said

no visitors," he reported.


"No visitors?" I demanded in disbelief.
Charlie raised one eyebrow. "Now don't you go making a

pest of yourself, Bells.
Billy knows what's best for Jake. He'll be up and

around soon enough. Be
patient."


I didn't push it. Charlie was too worried about Harry.

That was clearly the more
important issue—it wouldn't be right to bug him with my

lesser concerns.
Instead, I went straight upstairs and turned on my

computer. I found a medical
site online and typed "mononucleosis" into the search

box.


All I knew about mono was that you were supposed to get

it from kissing, which
was clearly not the case with Jake. I read through the

symptoms quickly—the
fever he definitely had, but what about the rest of it?

No horrible sore throat, no
exhaustion, no headaches, at least not before he'd gone

home from the movie;
he'd said he felt "fit as a fiddle." Did it really come

on so fast? The article made it
sound like the sore stuff showed up first.


I glared at the computer screen and wondered why,

exactly, I was doing this.
Why did I feel so… so suspicious, like I didn't believe

Billy's story? Why would
Billy lie to Harry?


I was being silly, probably. I was just worried, and,

to be honest, I was afraid of


not being allowed to see Jacob—that made me nervous.
I skimmed through the rest of the article, looking for

more information. I stopped
when I got to the part about how mono could last more

than a month.


A month? My mouth fell open.
But Billy couldn't enforce the no-visitors thing that

long. Of course not. Jake
would go crazy stuck in bed that long without anyone to

talk to.



What was Billy afraid of, anyway? The article said that

a person with mono
needed to avoid physical activity, but there was

nothing about visitors. The
disease wasn't very infectious.


I'd give Billy a week, I decided, before I got pushy. A

week was generous.
A week was long. By Wednesday, I was sure I wasn't

going to live till Saturday.
When I'd decided to leave Billy and Jacob alone for a

week, I hadn't really


believed that Jacob would go along with Billy's rule.

Every day when I got home


from school, I ran to the phone to check for messages.

There never were any.
I cheated three times by trying to call him, but the

phone lines still weren't
working.


I was in the house much too much, and much too alone.

Without Jacob, and my
adrenaline and my distractions, everything I'd been

repressing started creeping up
on me. The dreams got hard again. I could no longer see

the end coming. Just the
horrible nothingness—half the time in the forest, half

the time in the empty fern
sea where the white house no longer existed. Sometimes

Sam Uley was there in
the forest, watching me again. I paid him no

attention—there was no comfort in
his presence; it made me feel no less alone. It didn't

stop me from screaming
myself awake, night after night.


The hole in my chest was worse than ever. I'd thought

that I'd been getting it
under control, but I found myself hunched over, day

after day, clutching my sides
together and gasping for air.


I wasn't handling alone well.
I was relieved beyond measure the morning I woke

up—screaming, of course—
and remembered that it was Saturday. Today I could call

Jacob. And if the phone
lines still weren't working, then I was going to La

Push. One way or another,
today would be better than the last lonely week.



I dialed, and then waited without high expectations.
It caught me off guard when Billy answered on the

second ring.
"Hello?"
"Oh, hey, the phone is working again! Hi, Billy. It's

Bella. I was just calling to


see how Jacob is doing. Is he up for visitors yet? I

was thinking about dropping by


—"
"I'm sorry, Bella," Billy interrupted, and I wondered

if he were watching TV; he
sounded distracted. "He's not in."


"Oh." It took me a second. "So he's feeling better

then?"


"Yeah," Billy hesitated for an instant too long. "Turns

out it wasn't mono after all.
Just some other virus."
"Oh. So… where is he?"
"He's giving some friends a ride up to Port Angeles—I

think they were going to


catch a double feature or something. He's gone for the

whole day."


"Well, that's a relief. I've been so worried. I'm glad

he felt good enough to get
out." My voice sounded horribly phony as I babbled on.
Jacob was better, but not well enough to call me. He

was out with friends. I was


sitting home, missing him more every hour. I was

lonely, worried, bored…
perforated—and now also desolate as I realized that the

week apart had not had
the same effect on him.


"Is there anything in particular you wanted?" Billy

asked politely.
"No, not really."
"Well, I'll tell him that you called," Billy promised.

"Bye, Bella."
"Bye," I replied, but he'd already hung up.
I stood for a moment with the phone still in my hand.



Jacob must have changed his mind, just like I'd feared.

He was going to take my
advice and not waste any more time on someone who

couldn't return his feelings.
I felt the blood run out of my face.


"Something wrong?" Charlie asked as he came down the

stairs.


"No," I lied, hanging up the phone. "Billy says Jacob

is feeling better. It wasn't
mono. So that's good."
"Is he coming here, or are you going there?" Charlie

asked absentmindedly as he


started poking through the fridge.
"Neither," I admitted. "He's going out with some other

friends."
The tone of my voice finally caught Charlie's

attention. He looked up at me with


sudden alarm, his hands frozen around a package of

cheese slices.


"Isn't it a little early for lunch?" I asked as lightly

as I could manage, trying to
distract him.
"No, I'm just packing something to take out to the

river…"
"Oh, fishing today?"
"Well, Harry called… and it's not raining." He was

creating a stack of food on the


counter as he spoke. Suddenly he looked up again as if

he'd just realized


something. "Say, did you want me to stay with you,

since Jake's out?"
"That's okay, Dad," I said, working to sound

indifferent. "The fish bite better
when the weather's nice."


He stared at me, indecision clear on his face. I knew

that he was worrying, afraid


to leave me alone, in case I got "mopey" again.
"Seriously, Dad. I think I'll call Jessica," I fibbed

quickly. I'd rather be alone than
have him watching me all day. "We have a Calculus test

to study for. I could use
her help." That part was true. But I'd have to make do

without it.



"That's a good idea. You've been spending so much time

with Jacob, your other
friends are going to think you've forgotten them."


I smiled and nodded as if I cared what my other friends

thought.
Charlie started to turn, but then spun back with a

worried expression. "Hey, you'll
study here or at Jess's, right?"


"Sure, where else?"


"Well, it's just that I want you to be careful to stay

out of the woods, like I told
you before."
It took me a minute to understand, distracted as I was.

"More bear trouble?"
Charlie nodded, frowning. "We've got a missing

hiker—the rangers found his


camp early this morning, but no sign of him. There were

some really big animal
prints… of course those could have come later, smelling

the food… Anyway,
they're setting traps for it now."


"Oh," I said vaguely. I wasn't really listening to his

warnings; I was much more


upset by the situation with Jacob than by the

possibility of being eaten by a bear.
I was glad that Charlie was in a hurry. He didn't wait

for me to call Jessica, so I
didn't have to put on that charade. I went through the

motions of gathering my
school-books on the kitchen table to pack them in my

bag; that was probably too
much, and if he hadn't been eager to hit the holes, it

might have made him
suspicious.


I was so busy looking busy that the ferociously empty

day ahead didn't really
crash down on me until after I'd watched him drive

away. It only took about two
minutes of staring at the silent kitchen phone to

decide that I wasn't staying home
today. I considered my options.


I wasn't going to call Jessica. As far as I could tell,

Jessica had crossed over to the
dark side.



I could drive to La Push and get my motorcycle—an

appealing thought but for
one minor problem: who was going to drive me to the

emergency room if I
needed it afterward?

Or… I already had our map and compass in the truck. I

was pretty sure I
understood the process well enough by now that I

wouldn't get lost. Maybe I
could eliminate two lines today, putting us ahead of

schedule for whenever Jacob
decided to honor me with his presence again. I refused

to think about how long
that might be. Or if it was going to be never.

I felt a brief twinge of guilt as I realized how

Charlie would feel about this, but I

ignored it. I just couldn't stay in the house again

today.
A few minutes later I was on the familiar dirt road

that led to nowhere in
particular. I had the windows rolled down and I drove

as fast as was healthy for
my truck, trying to enjoy the wind against my face. It

was cloudy, but almost dry
—a very nice day, for Forks.

Getting started took me longer than it would have taken

Jacob. After I parked in
the usual spot, I had to spend a good fifteen minutes

studying the little needle on
the compass face and the markings on the now worn map.

When I was reasonably
certain that I was following the right line of the web,

I set off into the woods.

The forest was full of life today, all the little

creatures enjoying the momentary
dryness. Somehow, though, even with the birds chirping

and cawing, the insects
buzzing noisily around my head, and the occasional

scurry of the field mice
through the shrubs, the forest seemed creepier today;

it reminded me of my most
recent nightmare. I knew it was just because I was

alone, missing Jacob's carefree
whistle and the sound of another pair of feet squishing

across the damp ground.

The sense of unease grew stronger the deeper I got into

the trees. Breathing
started to get more difficult—not because of exertion,

but because I was having
trouble with the stupid hole in my chest again. I kept

my arms tight around my


torso and tried to banish the ache from my thoughts. I

almost turned around, but I


hated to waste the effort I'd already expended.
The rhythm of my footsteps started to numb my mind and

my pain as I trudged
on. My breathing evened out eventually, and I was glad

I hadn't quit. I was
getting better at this bushwhacking thing; I could tell

I was faster.


I didn't realize quite how much more efficiently I was

moving. I thought I'd
covered maybe four miles, and I wasn't even starting to

look around for it yet.
And then, with an abruptness that disoriented me, I

stepped through a low arch
made by two vine maples—pushing past the chest-high

ferns—into the meadow.


It was the same place, of that I was instantly sure.

I'd never seen another clearing
so symmetrical. It was as perfectly round as if someone

had intentionally created
the flawless circle, tearing out the trees but leaving

no evidence of that violence
in the waving grass. To the east, I could hear the

stream bubbling quietly.


The place wasn't nearly so stunning without the

sunlight, but it was still very
beautiful and serene. It was the wrong season for

wildflowers; the ground was
thick with tall grass that swayed in the light breeze

like ripples across a lake.


It was the same place… but it didn't hold what I had

been searching for.


The disappointment was nearly as instantaneous as the

recognition. I sank down
right where I was, kneeling there at the edge of the

clearing, beginning to gasp.
What was the point of going any farther? Nothing

lingered here. Nothing more


than the memories that I could have called back

whenever I wanted to, if I was
ever willing to endure the corresponding pain—the pain

that had me now, had me
cold. There was nothing special about this place

without him. I wasn't exactly
sure what I'd hoped to feel here, but the meadow was

empty of atmosphere,
empty of everything, just like everywhere else. Just

like my nightmares. My head
swirled dizzily.



At least I'd come alone. I felt a rush of thankfulness

as I realized that. If I'd
discovered the meadow with Jacob… well, there was no

way I could have
disguised the abyss I was plunging into now. How could

I have explained the
way I was fracturing into pieces, the way I had to curl

into a ball to keep the
empty hole from tearing me apart? It was so much better

that I didn't have an
audience.


And I wouldn't have to explain to anyone why I was in

such a hurry to leave,
either. Jacob would have assumed, after going to so

much trouble to locate the
stupid place, I would want to spend more than a few

seconds here. But I was
already trying to find the strength to get to my feet

again, forcing myself out of
the ball so that I could escape. There was too much

pain in this empty place to
bear—I would crawl away if I had to.


How lucky that I was alone!
Alone. I repeated the word with grim satisfaction as I

wrenched myself to my feet


despite the pain. At precisely that moment, a figure

stepped out from the trees to
the north, some thirty paces away.
A dizzying array of emotions shot through me in a

second. The first was surprise;


I was far from any trail here, and I didn't expect

company. Then, as my eyes
focused on the motionless figure, seeing the utter

stillness, the pallid skin, a rush
of piercing hope rocked through me. I suppressed it

viciously, fighting against the
equally sharp lash of agony as my eyes continued to the

face beneath the black
hair, the face that wasn't the one I wanted to see.

Next was fear; this was not the
face I grieved for, but it was close enough for me to

know that the man facing me
was no stray hiker.


And finally, in the end, recognition.
"Laurent!" I cried in surprised pleasure.
It was an irrational response. I probably should have

stopped at fear.



Laurent had been one of James's coven when we'd first

met. He hadn't been
involved with the hunt that followed—the hunt where I

was the quarry—but that
was only because he was afraid; I was protected by a

bigger coven than his own.
It would have been different if that wasn't the

case—he'd had no compunctions, at
the time, against making a meal of me. Of course, he

must have changed, because
he'd gone to Alaska to live with the other civilized

coven there, the other family
that refused to drink human blood for ethical reasons.

The other family like… but
I couldn't let myself think the name.


Yes, fear would have made more sense, but all I felt

was an overwhelming
satisfaction. The meadow was a magic place again. A

darker magic than I'd
expected, to be sure, but magic all the same. Here was

the connection I'd sought.
The proof, however remote, that—somewhere in the same

world where I lived—
he did exist.


It was impossible how exactly the same Laurent looked.

I suppose it was very
silly and human to expect some kind of change in the

last year. But there was
something… I couldn't quite put my finger on it.


"Bella?" he asked, looking more astonished than I felt.


"You remember." I smiled. It was ridiculous that I

should be so elated because a
vampire knew my name.
He grinned. "I didn't expect to see you here." He

strolled toward me, his


expression bemused.
"Isn't it the other way around? I do live here. I

thought you'd gone to Alaska."
He stopped about ten paces away, cocking his head to

the side. His face was the


most beautiful face I'd seen in what felt like an

eternity. I studied his features
with a strangely greedy sense of release. Here was

someone I didn't have to
pretend for—someone who already knew everything I could

never say.



"You're right," he agreed. "I did go to Alaska. Still,

I didn't expect… When I


found the Cullen place empty, I thought they'd moved

on."
"Oh." I bit my lip as the name set the raw edges of my

wound throbbing. It took
me a second to compose myself. Laurent waited with

curious eyes.


"They did move on," I finally managed to tell him.


"Hmm," he murmured. "I'm surprised they left you

behind. Weren't you sort of a
pet of theirs?" His eyes were innocent of any intended

offense.
I smiled wryly. "Something like that."
"Hmm," he said, thoughtful again.
At that precise moment, I realized why he looked the

same—too much the same.


After Carlisle told us that Laurent had stayed with

Tanya's family, I'd begun to
picture him, on the rare occasions that I thought of

him at all, with the same
golden eyes that the… Cullens—I forced the name out,

wincing—had. That all
good vampires had.


I took an involuntary step back, and his curious, dark

red eyes followed the
movement.
"Do they visit often?" he asked, still casual, but his

weight shifted toward me.


"Lie," the beautiful velvet voice whispered anxiously

from my memory.
I started at the sound of his voice, but it should not

have surprised me. Was I nor
in the worst danger imaginable? The motorcycle was safe

as kittens next to this.


I did what the voice said to do.
"Now and again." I tried to make my voice light,

relaxed. "The time seems longer


to me, I imagine. You know how they get distracted…" I

was beginning to
babble. I had to work to shut myself up.
"Hmm," he said again. "The house smelled like it had

been vacant for a while…"



"You must lie better than that, Bella," the voice

urged.
I tried. "I'll have to mention to Carlisle that you

stopped by. He'll be sorry they
missed your visit." I pretended to deliberate for a

second. "But I probably
shouldn't mention it to… Edward, I suppose—" I barely

managed to say his
name, and it twisted my expression on the way out,

ruining my bluff "—he has
such a temper… well, I'm sure you remember. He's still

touchy about the whole
James thing." I rolled my eyes and waved one hand

dismissively, like it was all


ancient history, but there was an edge of hysteria to

my voice. I wondered if he
would recognize what it was.
"Is he really?" Laurent asked pleasantly… skeptically.
I kept my reply short, so that my voice wouldn't betray

my panic. "Mm-hmm."
Laurent took a casual step to the side, gazing around

at the little meadow. I didn't


miss that the step brought him closer to me. In my

head, the voice responded with


a low snarl.
"So how are things working out in Denali? Carlisle said

you were staying with
Tanya?" My voice was too high.


The question made him pause. "I like Tanya very much,"

he mused. "And her
sister Irina even more… I've never stayed in one place

for so long before, and I
enjoy the advantages, the novelty of it. But, the

restrictions are difficult… I'm
surprised that any of them can keep it up for long." He

smiled at me
conspiratorially. "Sometimes I cheat."


I couldn't swallow. My foot started to ease back, but I

froze when his red eyes
flickered down to catch the movement.


"Oh," I said in a faint voice. "Jasper has problems

with that, too."
"Don't move," the voice whispered. I tried to do what

he instructed. It was hard;
the instinct to take flight was nearly uncontrollable.



"Really?" Laurent seemed interested. "Is that why they

left?"
"No," I answered honestly. "Jasper is more careful at

home."
"Yes," Laurent agreed. "I am, too."
The step forward he took now was quite deliberate.
"Did Victoria ever find you?" I asked, breathless,

desperate to distract him. It was


the first question that popped into my head, and I

regretted it as soon as the words
were spoken. Victoria—who had hunted me with James, and

then disappeared—
was not someone I wanted to think of at this particular

moment.


But the question did stop him.


"Yes," he said, hesitating on that step. "I actually

came here as a favor to her." He
made a face. "She won't be happy about this."
"About what?" I said eagerly, inviting him to continue.

He was glaring into the


trees, away from me. I took advantage of his diversion,

taking a furtive step back.


He looked back at me and smiled—the expression made him

look like a black-
haired angel.
"About me killing you," he answered in a seductive

purr.
I staggered back another step. The frantic growling in

my head made it hard to


hear.


"She wanted to save that part for herself," he went on

blithely. "She's sort of…
put out with you, Bella."
"Me?" I squeaked.
He shook his head and chuckled. "I know, it seems a

little backward to me, too.


But James was her mate, and your Edward killed him."
Even here, on the point of death, his name tore against

my unhealed wounds like
a serrated edge.



Laurent was oblivious to my reaction. "She thought it

more appropriate to kill
you than Edward—fair turnabout, mate for mate. She

asked me to get the lay of
the land for her, so to speak. I didn't imagine you

would be so easy to get to. So
maybe her plan was flawed—apparently it wouldn't be the

revenge she imagined,
since you must not mean very much to him if he left you

here unprotected."


Another blow, another tear through my chest.
Laurent's weight shifted slightly, and I stumbled

another step back.
He frowned. "I suppose she'll be angry, all the same."
"Then why not wait for her?" I choked out.
A mischievous grin rearranged his features. "Well,

you've caught me at a bad


time, Bella. I didn't come to this place on Victoria's

mission—I was hunting. I'm
quite thirsty, and you do smell… simply mouthwatering."
Laurent looked at me with approval, as if he meant it

as a compliment.
"Threaten him," the beautiful delusion ordered, his

voice distorted with dread.


"He'll know it was you," I whispered obediently. "You

won't get away with this."
"And why not?" Laurent's smile widened. He gazed around

the small opening in
the trees. "The scent will wash away with the next

rain. No one will find your
body—you'll simply go missing, like so many, many other

humans. There's no
reason for Edward to think of me, if he cares enough to

investigate. This is
nothing personal, let me assure you, Bella. Just

thirst."


"Beg," my hallucination begged.
"Please," I gasped.
Laurent shook his head, his face kind. "Look at it this

way, Bella. You're very


lucky I was the one to find you."
"Am I?" I mouthed, faltering another step back.



Laurent followed, lithe and graceful.
"Yes," he assured me. "I'll be very quick. You won't

feel a thing, I promise. Oh,
I'll lie to Victoria about that later, naturally, just

to placate her. But if you knew


what she had planned for you, Bella…" He shook his head

with a slow
movement, almost as if in disgust. "I swear you'd be

thanking me for this."
I stared at him in horror.
He sniffed at the breeze that blew threads of my hair

in his direction.


"Mouthwatering," he repeated, inhaling deeply.
I tensed for the spring, my eyes squinting as I cringed

away, and the sound of
Edward's furious roar echoed distantly in the back of

my head. His name burst


through all the walls I'd built to contain it. Edward,

Edward, Edward. I was going
to die. It shouldn't matter if I thought of him now.

Edward, I love you.
Through my narrowed eyes, I watched as Laurent paused

in the act of inhaling


and whipped his head abruptly to the left. I was afraid

to look away from him, to
follow his glance, though he hardly needed a

distraction or any other trick to
overpower me. I was too amazed to feel relief when he

started slowly backing
away from me.


"I don't believe it," he said, his voice so low that I

barely heard it.
I had to look then. My eyes scanned the meadow,

searching for the interruption
that had extended my life by a few seconds. At first I

saw nothing, and my gaze


flickered back to Laurent. He was retreating more

quickly now, his eyes boring
into the forest.
Then I saw it; a huge black shape eased out of the

trees, quiet as a shadow, and


stalked deliberately toward the vampire. It was

enormous—as tall as a horse, but
thicker, much more muscular. The long muzzle grimaced,

revealing a line of
dagger-like incisors. A grisly snarl rolled out from

between the teeth, rumbling



across the clearing like a prolonged crack of thunder.
The bear. Only, it wasn't a bear at all. Still, this

gigantic black monster had to be


the creature causing all the alarm. From a distance,

anyone would assume it was a
bear. What else could be so vast, so powerfully built?
I wished I were lucky enough to see it from a distance.

Instead, it padded silently


through the grass a mere ten feet from where I stood.
"Don't move an inch," Edward's voice whispered.
I stared at the monstrous creature, my mind boggling as

I tried to put a name to it.


There was a distinctly canine cast to the shape of it,

the way it moved. I could
only think of one possibility, locked in horror as I

was. Yet I'd never imagined
that a wolf could get so big.


Another growl rumbled in its throat, and I shuddered

away from the sound.
Laurent was backing toward the edge of the trees, and,

under the freezing terror,
confusion swept through me. Why was Laurent retreating?

Granted, the wolf was
monstrous in size, but it was just an animal. What

reason would a vampire have


for fearing an animal? And Laurent was afraid. His eyes

were wide with horror,
just like mine.
As if in answer to my question, suddenly the mammoth

wolf was not alone.


Flanking it on either side, another two gigantic beasts

prowled silently into the
meadow. One was a deep gray, the other brown, neither

one quite as tall as the
first. The gray wolf came through the trees only a few

feet from me, its eyes
locked on Laurent.


Before I could even react, two more wolves followed,

lined up in a V, like geese
flying south. Which meant that the rusty brown monster

that shrugged through
the brush last was close enough for me to touch.


I gave an involuntary gasp and jumped back—which was

the stupidest thing I



could have done. I froze again, waiting for the wolves

to turn on me, the much
weaker of the available prey. I wished briefly that

Laurent would get on with it
and crush the wolf pack—it should be so simple for him.

I guessed that, between
the two choices before me, being eaten by wolves was

almost certainly the worse
option.


The wolf closest to me, the reddish brown one, turned

its head slightly at the


sound of my gasp.
The wolf's eyes were dark, nearly black. It gazed at me

for a fraction of a second,
the deep eyes seeming too intelligent for a wild

animal.


As it stared at me, I suddenly thought of Jacob—again,

with gratitude. At least I'd
come here alone, to this fairytale meadow filled with

dark monsters. At least
Jacob wasn't going to die, too. At least I wouldn't

have his death on my hands.


Then another low growl from the leader caused the

russet wolf to whip his head


around, back toward Laurent.
Laurent was staring at the pack of monster wolves with

unconcealed shock and
fear. The first I could understand. But I was stunned

when, without warning, he
spun and disappeared into the trees.


He ran away.

The wolves were after him in a second, sprinting across

the open grass with a few
powerful bounds, snarling and snapping so loudly that

my hands flew up
instinctively to cover my ears. The sound faded with

surprising swiftness once
they disappeared into the woods.


And then I was alone again.
My knees buckled under me, and I fell onto my hands,

sobs building in my throat.
I knew I needed to leave, and leave now. How long would

the wolves chase


Laurent before they doubled back for me? Or would

Laurent turn on them?



Would he be the one that came looking?

I couldn't move at first, though; my arms and legs were

shaking, and I didn't
know how to get back to my feet.
My mind couldn't move past the fear, the horror or the

confusion. I didn't

understand what I'd just witnessed.

A vampire should not have run from overgrown dogs like

that. What good would
their teeth be against his granite skin?
And the wolves should have given Laurent a wide berth.

Even if their

extraordinary size had taught them to fear nothing, it

still made no sense that they
would pursue him. I doubted his icy marble skin would

smell anything like food.
Why would they pass up something warmblooded and weak

like me to chase
after Laurent?

I couldn't make it add up.

A cold breeze whipped through the meadow, swaying the

grass like something
was moving through it.
I scrambled to my feet, backing away even though the

wind brushed harmlessly

past me. Stumbling in panic, I turned and ran headlong

into the trees.

The next few hours were agony. It took me three times

as long to escape the trees
as it had to get to the meadow.
At first I paid no attention to where I was headed,

focused only on what I was

running from By the time I collected myself enough to

remember the compass, I
was deep in the unfamiliar and menacing forest. My

hands were shaking so
violently that I had to set the compass on the muddy

ground to be able to read it.
Every few minutes I would stop to put the compass dowr

and check that I was
still heading northwest, hearing—when the sounds

weren't hidden behind the
frantic squelching of my footsteps—the quiet whisper of

unseen things moving in


the leaves.
The call of a jaybird made me leap back and fall into a

thick stand of young


spruce, scraping up my arms and tangling my hair with

sap. The sudden rush of a
squirrel up a hemlock made me scream so loud it hurt my

own ears.
At last there was a break in the trees ahead. I came

out onto the empty road a mile


or so south of where I'd left the truck. Exhausted as I

was, I jogged up the lane
until I found it. By the time I pulled myself into the

cab, I was sobbing again. I
fiercely shoved down both stiff locks before I dug my

keys out of my pocket. The
roar of the engine was comforting and sane. It helped

me control the tears as I
sped as fast as my truck would allow toward the main

highway.


I was calmer, but still a mess when I got home.

Charlie's cruiser was in the


driveway—I hadn't realized how late it was. The sky was

already dusky.
"Bella?" Charlie asked when I slammed the front door

behind me and hastily
turned the locks.


"Yeah, it's me." My voice was unsteady.


"Where have you been?" he thundered, appearing through

the kitchen doorway
with an ominous expression.
I hesitated. He'd probably called the Stanleys. I'd

better stick to the truth.
"I was hiking," I admitted.
His eyes were tight. "What happened to going to

Jessica's?"
"I didn't feel like Calculus today."
Charlie folded his arms across his chest. "I thought I

asked you to stay out of the


forest."
"Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I won't do it again." I

shuddered.
Charlie seemed to really look at me for the first time.

I remembered that I had



spent some time on the forest floor today; I must be a

mess.
"What happened?" Charlie demanded.
Again, I decided that the truth, or part of it anyway,

was the best option. I was too


shaken to pretend that I'd spent an uneventful day with

the flora and fauna.
"I saw the bear." I tried to say it calmly, but my

voice was high and shaky. "It's


not a bear, though—it's some kind of wolf. And there

are five of them. A big


black one, and gray, and reddish-brown…"


Charlie's eyes grew round with horror. He strode

quickly to me and grabbed the


tops of my arms.
"Are you okay?"
My head bobbed in a weak nod.
"Tell me what happened."
"They didn't pay any attention to me. But aftet they

were gone, I ran away and I


fell down a lot."


He let go of my shoulders and wrapped his arms around

me. For a long moment,


he didn't say anything.


"Wolves," he murmured.


"What?"


"The rangers said the tracks were wrong for a bear—but

wolves just don't get that


big…"
"These were huge."
"How many did you say you saw?"
"Five."
Charlie shook his head, frowning with anxiety, He

finally spoke in a tone that


allowed no argument. "No more hiking."



"No problem," I promised fervently.
Charlie called the station to report what I'd seen. I

fudged a little bit about where
exactly I'd seen the wolves—claiming I'd been on the

trail that led to the north. I
didn't want my dad to know how deep I'd gone into the

forest against his wishes,


and, more importantly, I didn't want anyone wandering

near where Laurent might
be searching for me. The thought of it made me feel

sick.
"Are you hungry?" he asked me when he hung up the

phone.
I shook my head, though I must have been starving. I

hadn't eaten all day.
"Just tired," I told him. I turned for the stairs.
"Hey," Charlie said, his voice suddenly suspicious

again. "Didn't you say Jacob


was gone for the day?"
"That's what Billy said," I told him, confused by his

question.
He studied my expression for a minute, and seemed

satisfied with what he saw


there.
"Huh."
"Why?" I demanded. It sounded like he was implying that

I'd been lying to him


this morning. About something besides studying with

Jessica.
"Well, it's just that when I went to pick up Harry, I

saw Jacob out in front of the
store down there with some of his friends. I waved hi,

but he… well, I guess I
don't know if he saw me. I think maybe he was arguing

with his friends. He


looked strange, like he was upset about something. And…

different. It's like you
can watch that kid growing! He gets bigger every time I

see him."
"Billy said Jake and his friends were going up to Port

Angeles to see some


movies. They were probably just waiting for someone to

meet them."
"Oh." Charlie nodded and headed for the kitchen.



I stood in the hall, thinking about Jacob arguing with

his friends. I wondered if he
had confronted Embry about the situation with Sam.

Maybe that was the reason
he'd ditched me today—if it meant he could sort things

out with Embry, I was
glad he had.

I paused to check the locks again before I went to my

room. It was a silly thing to
do. What difference would a lock make to any of the

monsters I'd seen this
afternoon? I assumed the handle alone would stymie the

wolves, not having
opposable thumbs. And if Laurent came here…

Or… Victoria.

I lay down on my bed, but I was shaking too hard to

hope for sleep. I curled into
a cramped ball under my quilt, and faced the horrifying

facts.
There was nothing I could do. There were no precautions

I could take. There was


no place I could hide. There was no one who could help

me.
I realized, with a nauseous roll of my stomach, that

the situation was worse than
even that. Because all those facts applied to Charlie,

too. My father, sleeping one


room away from me, was just a hairsbreadth off the

heart of the target that was
centered on me. My scent would lead them here, whether

I was here or not.
The tremors rocked me until my teeth chattered.
To calm myself, I fantasized the impossible: I imagined

the big wolves catching


up to Laurent in the woods and massacring the

indestructible immortal the way
they would any normal person. Despite the absurdity of

such a vision, the idea
comforted me. If the wolves got him, then he couldn't

tell Victoria I was here all
alone. If he didn't return, maybe she'd think the

Cullens were still protecting me.
If only the wolves could win such a fight…


My good vampires were never coming back; how soothing

it was to imagine that
the other kind could also disappear.



I squeezed my eyes tight together and waited for

unconsciousness—almost eager
for my nightmare to start. Better that than the pale,

beautiful face that smiled at
me now from behind my lids.

In my imagination, Victoria's eyes were black with

thirst, bright with
anticipation, and her lips curled back from her

gleaming teeth in pleasure. Her red
hair was brilliant as fire; it blew chaotically around

her wild face.

Laurent's words repeated in my head. If you knew what

she had planned for you
…
I pressed my fist against my mouth to keep from

screaming.


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 treehugger
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 faceto-
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.
I sighed and let my head hang back, staring at the

ceiling. "That's going to be a


problem."
Alice squeezed my hand. "They aren't excited I'm here."
"Not especially. But it's none of their business

anyway."
Alice put her arm around me. "So what do we do now?"

she mused. She seemed


to talk to herself for a moment. "Things to do. Loose

ends to tie."
"What things to do?"
Her face was suddenly careful. "I don't know for sure…

I need to see Carlisle."
Would she leave so soon? My stomach dropped.
"Could you stay?" I begged. "Please? For just a little

while. I've missed you so


much." My voice broke.
"If you think that's a good idea." Her eyes were

unhappy.
"I do. You can stay here—Charlie would love that."
"I have a house, Bella."
I nodded, disappointed but resigned. She hesitated,

studying me.
"Well, I need to go get a suitcase of clothes, at the

very least."
I threw my arms around her. "Alice, you're the best!"



"And I think I'll need to hunt. Immediately," she added

in a strained voice.
"Oops." I took a step back.
"Can you stay out of trouble for one hour?" she asked

skeptically. Then, before I


could answer, she held up one finger and closed her

eyes. Her face went smooth


and blank for a few seconds.
And then her eyes opened and she answered her own

question. "Yes, you'll be
fine. For tonight, anyway." She grimaced. Even making

faces, she looked like an
angel.


"You'll come back?" I asked in a small voice.
"I promise—one hour."
I glanced at the clock over the kitchen table. She

laughed and leaned in quickly to


kiss me on the cheek. Then she was gone.
I took a deep breath. Alice would be back. I suddenly

felt so much better.
I had plenty to do to keep myself busy while I waited.

A shower was definitely


first on the agenda. I sniffed my shoulders as I

undressed, but I couldn't smell
anything but the brine and seaweed scent of the ocean.

I wondered what Alice
had meant about me smelling bad.


When I was cleaned up, I went back to the kitchen. I

couldn't see any signs that
Charlie 'lad eaten recently, and he would probably be

hungry when he got back. I
hummed tunelessly to myself as I moved around the

kitchen.


While Thursday's casserole rotated in the microwave, I

made up the couch with
sheets and an old pillow. Alice wouldn't need it, but

Charlie would need to see it.
I was careful not to watch the clock. There was no

reason to start myself
panicking; Alice had promised.


I hurried through my dinner, not tasting it—just

feeling the ache as it slid down



my raw throat. Mostly I was thirsty; I must have drunk

a half gallon of water by
the time I was finished. All the salt in my system had

dehydrated me.


I went to go try to watch TV while I waited.
Alice was already there, sitting on her improvised bed.

Her eyes were a liquid
butterscotch. She smiled and patted the pillow.

"Thanks."


"You're early," I said, elated.


I sat down next to her and leaned my head on her

shoulder. She put her cold arms
around me and sighed.
"Bella. What are we going to do with you?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "I really have been trying

my hardest."
"I believe you."
It was silent.
"Does—does he…" I took a deep breath. It was harder to

say his name out loud,


even though I was able to think it now. "Does Edward

know you're here?" I
couldn't help asking. It was my pain, after all. I'd

deal with it when she was gone,
I promised myself, and felt sick at the thought.


"No."
There was only one way that could be true. "He's not

with Carlisle and Esme?"
"He checks in every few months."
"Oh." He must still be out enjoying his distractions. I

focused my curiosity on a


safer topic. "You said you flew here… Where did you

come from?"
"I was in Denali. Visiting Tanya's family."
"Is Jasper here? Did he come with your'"
She shook her head. "He didn't approve of my

interfering. We promised…" she


trailed off, and then her tone changed. "And you think

Charlie won't mind my



being here?" she asked, sounding worried.
"Charlie thinks you're wonderful, Alice."
"Well, we're about to find out."
Sure enough, a few seconds later I heard the cruiser

pull into the driveway. I


jumped up and hurried to open the door.
Charlie trudged slowly up the walk, his eyes on the

ground and his shoulders


slumped. I walked forward to meet him; he didn't even

see me until I hugged him
around the waist. He embraced me back fiercely.
"I'm so sorry about Harry, Dad."
"I'm really going to miss him," Charlie mumbled.
"How's Sue doing?"
"She seems dazed, like she hasn't grasped it yet. Sam's

staying with her…" The


volume of his voice faded in and out. "Those poor kids.

Leah's just a year older
than you, and Seth is only fourteen…" He shook his

head.
He kept his arms tight around me as he started toward

the door again.


"Um, Dad?" I figured I'd better warn him. "You'll never

guess who's here."
He looked at me blankly. His head swiveled around, and

he spied the Mercedes
across the street, the porch light reflecting off the

glossy black paint. Before he
could react, Alice was in the doorway.


"Hi, Charlie," she said in a subdued voice. "I'm sorry

I came at such a bad time."


"Alice Cullen?" he peered at the slight figure in front

of him as if he doubted
what his eyes were telling him. "Alice, is that you?"
"It's me," she confirmed. "I was in the neighborhood."
"Is Carlisle…?"
"No, I'm alone."



Both Alice and I knew he wasn't really asking about

Carlisle. His arm tightened
over my shoulder.
"She can stay here, can't she?" I pleaded. "I already

asked her."
"Of course," Charlie said mechanically. "We'd love to

have you, Alice."


"Thank you, Charlie. I know it's horrid timing."
"No, it's fine, really. I'm going to be really busy

doing what I can for Harry's
family; it will be nice for Bella to have some

company."


"There's dinner for you on the table, Dad," I told him.


"Thanks, Bell." He gave me one more squeeze before he

shuffled toward the
kitchen.
Alice went back to the couch, and I followed her. This

time, she was the one to


pull me against her shoulder.
"You look tired."
"Yeah," I agreed, and shrugged. "Near-death experiences

do that to me… So,


what does Carlisle think of you being here?"


"He doesn't know. He and Esme were on a hunting trip.

I'll hear from him in a
few days, when he gets back."
"You won't tell him, though… when he checks in again?"

I asked. She knew I


didn't mean Carlisle now.
"No. He'd bite my head off," Alice said grimly.
I laughed once, and then sighed.
I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to stay up all night

talking to Alice. And it didn't


make sense for me to be tired, what with crashing on

Jacob's couch all day. But
drowning really had taken a lot out of me, and my eyes

wouldn't stay open. I
rested my head on her stone shoulder, and drifted into

a more peaceful oblivion



than I had any hope of.
I woke early, from a deep and dreamless sleep, feeling

well-rested, but stiff. I was
on the couch tucked under the blankets I'd laid out for

Alice, and I could hear her


and Charlie talking in the kitchen. It sounded like

Charlie was fixing her
breakfast.
"How bad was it, Charlie?" Alice asked softly, and at

first I thought they were


talking about the Clearwaters.
Charlie sighed. "Real bad."
"Tell me about it. I want to know exactly what happened

when we left."
There was a pause while a cupboard door was closed and

a dial on the stove was


clicked off. I waited, cringing.
"I've never felt so helpless," Charlie began slowly. "I

didn't know what to do.
That first week—I thought I was going to have to

hospitalize her. She wouldn't


eat or drink, she wouldn't move. Dr. Gerandy was

throwing around words like
'catatonic,' but I didn't let him up to see her. I was

afraid it would scare her."
"She snapped out of it though?"
"I had Renee come to take her to Florida. I just didn't

want to be the one… if she


had to go to a hospital or something. I hoped being

with her mother would help.
But when we started packing her clothes, she woke up

with a vengeance. I've
never seen Bella throw a fit like that. She was never

one for the tantrums, but,
boy, did she fly into a fury. She threw her clothes

everywhere and screamed that
we couldn't make her leave—and then she finally started

crying. I thought that
would be the turning point. I didn't argue when she

insisted on staying here… and
she did seem to get better at first…"


Charlie trailed off. It was hard listening to this,

knowing how much pain I'd
caused him.



"But?" Alice prompted.
"She went back to school and work, she ate and slept

and did her homework. She
answered when someone asked her a direct question. But

she was… empty. Her
eyes were blank. There were lots of little things—she

wouldn't listen to music
anymore; I found a bunch of CDs broken in the trash.

She didn't read; she
wouldn't be in the same room when the TV was on, not

that she watched it so


much before. I finally figured it out—she was avoiding

everything that might
remind her of… him.
"We could hardly talk; I was so worried about saying

something that would upset


her—the littlest things would make her flinch—and she

never volunteered


anything. She would just answer if I asked her

something.
"She was alone all the time. She didn't call her

friends back, and after a while,
they stopped calling.


"It was night of the living dead around here. I still

hear her screaming in her


sleep…"
I could almost see him shuddering. I shuddered, too,

remembering. And then I
sighed. I hadn't fooled him at all, not for one second.


"I'm so sorry, Charlie," Alice said, voice glum.


"It's not your fault." The way he said it made it

perfectly clear that he was holding
someone responsible. "You were always a good friend to

her."
"She seems better now, though."
"Yeah. Ever since she started hanging out with Jacob

Black, I've noticed a real


improvement. She has some color in her cheeks when she

comes home, some
light in her eyes. She's happier." He paused, and his

voice was different when he
spoke again. "He's a year or so younger than her, and I

know she used to think of
him as a friend, but I think maybe it's something more

now, or headed that



direction, anyway." Charlie said this in a tone that

was almost belligerent. It was
a warning, not for Alice, but for her to pass along.

"Jake's old for his years," he
continued, still sounding defensive. "He's taken care

of his father physically the
way Bella took care of her mother emotionally. It

matured him. He's a good-
looking kid, too—takes after his mom's side. He's good

for Bella, you know,"
Charlie insisted.


"Then it's good she has him," Alice agreed.
Charlie sighed out a big gust of air, folding quickly

to the lack of opposition.
"Okay, so I guess that's overstating things. I don't

know… even with Jacob, now
and then I see something in her eyes, and I wonder if

I've ever grasped how much


pain she's really in It's not normal, Alice, and it… it

frightens me. Not normal at
all. Not like someone… left her, but like someone

died." His voice cracked.
It was like someone had died—like I had died. Because

it had been more than


just losing the truest of true loves, as if that were

not enough to kill anyone. It


was also losing a whole future, a whole family—the

whole life that I'd chosen…
Charlie went on in a hopeless tone. "I don't know if

she's going to get over it—
I'm not sure if it's in her nature to heal from

something like this. She's always
been such a constant little thing. She doesn't get past

things, change her mind."


"She's one of a kind," Alice agreed in a dry voice.
"And Alice…" Charlie hesitated. "Now, you know how fond

I am of you, and I


can tell that she's happy to see you, but… I'm a little

worried about what your
visit will do to her."
"So am I, Charlie, so am I. I wouldn't have come if I'd

had any idea. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, honey. Who knows? Maybe it will be

good for her."
"I hope you're right."
There was a long break while forks scraped plates and

Charlie chewed. I



wondered where Alice was hiding the food.
"Alice, I have to ask you something," Charlie said

awkwardly.
Alice was calm. "Go ahead."
"He's not coming back to visit, too, is he?" I could

hear the suppressed anger in


Charlie's voice.


Alice answered in a soft, reassuring tone. "He doesn't

even know I'm here. The
last time I spoke with him, he was in South America."
I stiffened as I heard this new information, and

listened harder.
"That's something, at least." Charlie snorted. "Well, I

hope he's enjoying himself."
For the first time, Alice's voice had a bit of steel in

it. "I wouldn't make


assumptions, Charlie." I knew how her eyes would flash

when she used that tone.
A chair scooted from the table, scraping loudly across

the floor. I pictured Charlie


getting up; there was no way Alice would make that kind

of noise. The faucet
ran, splashing against a dish.
It didn't sound like they were going to say anything

more about Edward, so I


decided it was time to wake up.


I turned over, bouncing against the springs to make

them squeak. Then I yawned
loudly.
All was quiet in the kitchen.
I stretched and groaned.
"Alice?" I asked innocently; the soreness rasping in my

throat added nicely to the


charade.


"I'm in the kitchen, Bella," Alice called, no hint in

her voice that she suspected
my eavesdropping. But she was good at hiding things

like that.
Charlie had to leave then—he was helping Sue Clearwater

with the funeral



arrangements. It would have been a very long day

without Alice. She never spoke
about leaving, and I didn't ask her. I knew it was

inevitable, but I put it out of my
mind.

Instead, we talked about her family—all but one.
Carlisle was working nights in Ithaca and teaching part

time at Cornell. Esme
was restoring a seventeenth century house, a historical

monument, in the forest
north of the city. Emmett and Rosalie had gone to

Europe for a few months on
another honeymoon, but they were back now. Jasper was

at Cornell, too, studying
philosophy this time. And Alice had been doing some

personal research,
concerning the information I'd accidentally uncovered

for her last spring. She'd

successfully tracked down the asylum where she'd spent

the last years of her
human life. The life she had no memory of.
"My name was Mary Alice Brandon," she told me quietly.

"I had a little sister

named Cynthia. Her daughter—my niece—is still alive in

Biloxi."

"Did you find out why they put you in… that place?"

What would drive parents
to that extreme? Even if their daughter saw visions of

the future…
She just shook her head, her topaz eyes thoughtful. "I

couldn't find much about

them. I went through all the old newspapers on

microfiche. My family wasn't
mentioned often; they weren't part of the social circle

that made the papers. My
parents' engagement was there, and Cynthia's." The name

fell uncertainly from
her tongue. "My birth was announced… and my death. I

found my grave. I also
filched my admissions sheet from the old asylum

archives. The date on the
admission and the date on my tombstone are the same."

I didn't know what to say, and, after a short pause,

Alice moved on to lighter

topics.
The Cullens were reassembled now, with the one

exception, spending Cornell's
spring break in Denali with Tanya and her family. I

listened too eagerly to even


the most trivial news. She never mentioned the one I

was most interested in, and
for that I was grateful. It was enough to listen to the

stories of the family I'd once
dreamed of belonging to.


Charlie didn't get back until after dark, and he looked

more worn than he had the
night before. He would be headed back to the

reservation first thing in the
morning for Harry's funeral, so he turned in early. I

stayed on the couch with
Alice again.


Charlie was almost a stranger when he came down the

stairs before the sun was
up, wearing an old suit I'd never seen him in before.

The jacket hung open; I
guessed it was too tight to fasten the buttons. His tie

was a bit wide for the
current style. He tiptoed to the door, trying not to

wake us up. I let him go,
pretending to sleep, as Alice did on the recliner.


As soon as he was out the door, Alice sat up. Under the

quilt, she was fully
dressed.
"So, what are we doing today?" she asked.
"I don't know—do you see anything interesting

happening?"


She smiled and shook her head. "But it's still early."
All the time I'd been spending in La Push meant a pile

of things I'd been
neglecting at home, and I decided to catch up on my

chores. I wanted to do
something, anything that might make life easier for

Charlie—maybe it would
make him feel just a little better to come home to a

clean, organized house. I
started with the bathroom—it showed the most signs of

neglect.


While I worked, Alice leaned against the doorjamb and

asked nonchalant
questions about my, well, our high school friends and

what they been up to since
she'd left. Her face stayed casual and emotionless, but

I sensed her disapproval



when she realized how little I could tell her. Or maybe

I just had a guilty
conscience after eavesdropping on her conversation with

Charlie yesterday
morning.


I was literally up to my elbows in Comet, scrubbing the

floor of the bathtub,


when the doorbell rang.
I looked to Alice at once, and her expression was

perplexed, almost worried,
which was strange; Alice was never taken by surprise.


"Hold on!" I shouted in the general direction of the

front door, getting up and


hurrying to the sink to rinse my arms off.
"Bella," Alice said with a trace of frustration in her

voice, "I have a fairly good
guess who that might be, and I think I'd better step

out."


"Guess?" I echoed. Since when did Alice have to guess

anything?


"If this is a repeat of my egregious lapse in foresight

yesterday, then it's most
likely Jacob Black or one of his… friends."
I stared at her, putting it together. "You can't see

werewolves?"
She grimaced. "So it would seem." She was obviously

annoyed by this fact—very


annoyed.
The doorbell rang again—buzzing twice quickly and

impatiently.
"You don't have go anywhere, Alice. You were here

first."
She laughed her silvery little laugh—it had a dark

edge. "Trust me—it wouldn't


be a good idea to have me and Jacob Black in a room

together."


She kissed my cheek swiftly before she vanished through

Charlie's door—and out
his back window, no doubt.
The doorbell rang again.



18. THE FUNERAL
I SPRINTED DOWN THE STAIRS AND THREW THE DOOR open.
It was Jacob, of course. Even blind, Alice wasn't slow.
He was standing about six feet back from the door, his

nose wrinkled in distaste,


but his face otherwise smooth—masklike. He didn't fool

me; I could see the faint


trembling of his hands.
Hostility rolled off of him in waves. It brought back

that awful afternoon when
he'd chosen Sam over me, and I felt my chin jerk up

defensively in response.


Jacob's Rabbit idled by the curb with Jared behind the

wheel and Embry in the
passenger seat. I understood what this meant: they were

afraid to let him come
here alone. It made me sad, and a little annoyed. The

Cullens weren't like that.


"Hey," I finally said when he didn't speak.


Jake pursed his lips, still hanging back from the door.

His eyes flickered across
the front of the house.
I ground my teeth. "She's not here. Do you need

something?"
He hesitated. "You're alone?"
"Yes." I sighed.
"Can I talk to you a minute?"
"Of course you can, Jacob. Come on in."
Jacob glanced over his shoulder at his friends in the

car. I saw Embry shake his



head just a tiny bit. For some reason, this bugged me

to no end.
My teeth clenched together again. "Chicken" I mumbled

under my breath.
Jake's eyes flashed back to me, his thick, black brows

pushing into a furious


angle over his deep-set eyes. His jaw set, and he

marched—there was no other
way to describe the way he moved—up the sidewalk and

shrugged past me into
the house.


I locked gazes with first Jared and then Embry—I didn't

like the hard way they
eyed me; did they really think I would let anything

hurt Jacob?—before I shut the
door on them.


Jacob was in the hall behind me, staring at the mess of

blankets in the living room.
"Slumber party?" he asked, his tone sarcastic.
"Yeah," I answered with the same level of acid. I

didn't like Jacob when he acted


this way. "What's it to you?"


He wrinkled his nose again like he smelled something

unpleasant. "Where's your
'friend'?" I could hear the quotation marks in his

tone.
"She had some errands to run. Look, Jacob, what do you

want?"
Something about the room seemed to make him edgier—his

long arms were


quivering. He didn't answer my question. Instead he

moved on to the kitchen, his
restless eyes darting everywhere.


I followed him. He paced back and forth along the short

counter.
"Hey," I said, putting myself in his way. He stopped

pacing and stared down at
me. "What's your problem?"


"I don't like having to be here."
That stung. I winced, and his eyes tightened.
"Then I'm sorry you had to come," I muttered. "Why

don't you tell me what you



need so you can leave?"


"I just have to ask you a couple of questions. It

shouldn't take long. We have to
get back for the funeral."
"Okay. Get it over with then." I was probably overdoing

it with the antagonism,


but I didn't want him to see how much this hurt. I knew

I wasn't being fair. After


all, I'd picked the bloodsucker over him last night.

I'd hurt him first.
He took a deep breath, and his trembling fingers were

suddenly still. His face
smoothed into a serene mask.


"One of the Cullens is staying here with you," he

stated.
"Yes. Alice Cullen."
He nodded thoughtfully. "How long is she here for?"
"As long as she wants to be." The belligerence was

still there in my tone. "It's an


open invitation."


"Do you think you could… please… explain to her about

the other one—
Victoria?"
I paled. "I told her about that."
He nodded. "You should know that we can only watch our

own lands with a


Cullen here. You'll only be safe in La Push. I can't

protect you here anymore."
"Okay," I said in a small voice.
He looked away then, out the back windows. He didn't

continue.
"Is that all?"
He kept his eyes on the glass as he answered. "Just one

more thing."
I waited, but he didn't continue. "Yes?" I finally

prompted.
"Are the rest of them coming back now?" he asked in a

cool, quiet voice. It


reminded me of Sam's always calm manner. Jacob was

becoming more like



Sam… I wondered why that bothered me so much.
Now I didn't speak. He looked back at my face with

probing eyes.
"Well?" he asked. He struggled to conceal the tension

behind his serene


expression.
"No." I said finally. Grudgingly. "They aren't coming

back."
His expression didn't change. "Okay. That's all."
I glared at him, annoyance rekindled. "Well, run along

now. Go tell Sam that the


scary monsters aren't coming to get you."
"Okay," he repeated, still calm.
That seemed to be it. Jacob walked swiftly from the

kitchen. I waited to hear the


front door open, but I heard nothing. I could hear the

clock over the stove ticking,


and I marveled again at how quiet he'd become.
What a disaster. How could I have alienated him so

completely in such a short
amount of time?


Would he forgive me when Alice was gone? What if he

didn't?
I slumped against the counter and buried my face in my

hands. How had I made


such a mess of everything? But what could I have done

differently? Even in
hindsight, I couldn't think of any better way, any

perfect course of action.
"Bella… ?" Jacob asked in a troubled voice.
I pulled my face out of my hands to see Jacob

hesitating in the kitchen doorway;


he hadn't left when I'd thought. It was only when I saw

the clear drops sparkling


in my hands that I realized I was crying.
Jacob's calm expression was gone; his face was anxious

and unsure. He walked
quickly back to stand in front of me, ducking his head

so that his eyes were closer
to being on the same level with mine.



"Did it again, didn't I?"
"Did what?" I asked, my voice cracking.
"Broke my promise. Sorry."
"'S'okay," I mumbled. "I started it this time."
His face twisted. "I knew how you felt about them. It

shouldn't have taken me by


surprise like that."
I could see the revulsion in his eyes. I wanted to

explain to him what Alice was


really like, to defend her against the judgments he'd

made, but something warned
me that now was not the time.
So I just said, "Sorry," again.
"Let's not worry about it, okay? She's just visiting,

right? She'll leave, and things


will go back to normal."


"Can't I be friends with you both at the same time?" I

asked, my voice not hiding
an ounce of the hurt I felt.
He shook his head slowly. "No, I don't think you can."
I sniffed and stared at his big feet. "But you'll wait,

right? You'll still be my


friend, even though I love Alice, too?"


I didn't look up, afraid to see what he'd think of that

last part. It took him a minute
to answer, so I was probably right not to look.
"Yeah, I'll always be your friend," he said gruffly.

"No matter what you love."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
I felt his arms wind around me, and I leaned against

his chest, still sniffling. "This


sucks."
"Yeah." Then he sniffed my hair and said, "Ew."



"What?" I demanded. I looked up to see that his nose

was wrinkled again. "Why


does everyone keep doing that to me? I don't smell!"
He smiled a little. "Yes, you do—you smell like them.

Blech. Too sweet—sickly
sweet. And… icy. It burns my nose."


"Really?" That was strange. Alice smelled unbelievably

wonderful. To a human,


anyway. "But why would Alice think I smelled, too,

then?"
That wiped his smile away. "Huh. Maybe I don't smell so

good to her, either.
Huh."


"Well, you both smell fine to me." I rested my head

against him again. I was
going to miss him terribly when he walked out my door.

It was a nasty catch-22—
on the one hand, I wanted Alice to stay forever. I was

going to die—
metaphorically—when she left me. But how was I supposed

to go without seeing
Jake for any length of time? What a mess, I thought

again.


"I'll miss you," Jacob whispered, echoing my thoughts.

"Every minute. I hope she
leaves soon."


"It really doesn't have to be that way, Jake."
He sighed. "Yes, it really does. Bella. You… love her.

So I'd better not get
anywhere near her. I'm not sure that I'm even-tempered

enough to handle that.
Sam would be mad if I broke the treaty, and"—his voice

turned sarcastic—"you
probably wouldn't like it too much if I killed your

friend."


I recoiled from him when he said that, but he only

tightened his arms, refusing to
let me escape. "There's no point in avoiding the truth.

That's the way things are,
Bells."


"I do not like the way things are."
Jacob freed one arm so that he could cup his big brown

hand under my chin and
make me look at him. "Yeah. It was easier when we were

both human, wasn't it?"



I sighed.
We stared at each other for a long moment. His hand

smoldered against my skin.
In my face, I knew there was nothing but wistful

sadness—I didn't want to have


to say goodbye now, no matter for how short a time. At

first his face reflected
mine, but then, as neither of us looked away, his

expression changed.
He released me, lifting his other hand to brush his

fingertips along my cheek,


trailing them down to my jaw. I could feel his fingers

tremble—not with anger
this time. He pressed his palm against my cheek, so

that my face was trapped
between his burning hands.


"Bella," he whispered.
I was frozen.
No! I hadn't made this decision yet. I didn't know if I

could do this, and now I


was out of time to think. But I would have been a fool

if I thought rejecting him


now would have no consequences.
I stared back at him. He was not my Jacob, but he could

be. His face was familiar
and beloved. In so many real ways, I did love him. He

was my comfort, my safe
harbor. Right now, I could choose to have him belong to

me.


Alice was back for the moment, but that changed

nothing. True love was forever
lost. The prince was never coming back to kiss me awake

from my enchanted
sleep. I was not a princess, after all. So what was the

fairy-tale protocol for other
kisses? The mundane kind that didn't break any spells?


Maybe it would be easy—like holding his hand or having

his arms around me.
Maybe it would feel nice. Maybe it wouldn't feel like a

betrayal. Besides, who
was I betraying, anyway? Just myself.


Keeping his eyes on mine, Jacob began to bend his face

toward me. And I was
still absolutely undecided.



The shrill ring of the phone made us both jump, but it

did not break his focus. He
took his hand from under my chin and reached over me to

grab the receiver, but
still held my face securely with the hand against my

cheek. His dark eyes did not
free mine. I was too muddled to react, even to take

advantage of the distraction.


"Swan residence," Jacob said, his husky voice low and

intense.
Someone answered, and Jacob altered in an instant. He

straightened up, and his


hand dropped from my face. His eyes went flat, his face

blank, and I would have
bet the measly remainder of my college f and that it

was Alice.
I recovered myself and held out my hand for the phone.

Jacob ignored me.
"He's not here," Jacob said, and the words were

menacing.
There was some very short reply, a request for more

information it seemed,


because he added unwillingly, "He's at the funeral."


Then Jacob hung up the phone. "Filthy bloodsucker," he

muttered under his
breath. The face he turned back to me was the bitter

mask again.
"Who did you just hang up on?" I gasped, infuriated.

"In my house, and on my


phone?"
"Easy! He hung up on me!"
"He? Who was it?!"
He sneered the title. "Dr. Carlisle Cullen."
"Why didn't you let me talk to him?!"
"He didn't ask for you," Jacob said coldly. His face

was smooth, expressionless,


but his hands shook. "He asked where Charlie was and I

told him. I don't think I
broke any rules of etiquette."
"You listen to me, Jacob Black—"
But he obviously wasn't listening. He looked quickly

over his shoulder, as if



someone had called his name from the other room. His

eyes went wide and his
body stiff, then he started trembling. I listened too,

automatically, but heard
nothing.


"Bye, Bells," he spit out, and wheeled toward the front

door.
I ran after him. "What is it?"
And then I ran into him, as he rocked back on his

heels, cussing under his breath.


He spun around again, knocking me sideways. I bobbled

and fell to the floor, my
legs tangled with his.


"Shoot, ow!" I protested as he hurriedly jerked his

legs free one at a time.
I struggled to pull myself up as he darted for the back

door; he suddenly froze
again.


Alice stood motionless at the foot of the stairs.
"Bella," she choked.
I scrambled to my feet and lurched to her side. Her

eyes were dazed and far


away, her face drawn and whiter than bone. Her slim

body trembled to an inner
turmoil.
"Alice, what's wrong?" I cried. I put my hands on her

face, trying to calm her.
Her eyes focused on mine abruptly, wide with pain.


"Edward," was all she whispered.
My body reacted faster than my mind was able to catch

up with the implications
of her reply. I didn't at first understand why the room

was spinning or where the
hollow roar in my ears was coming from. My mind

labored, unable to make sense
of Alice's bleak face and how it could possibly relate

to Edward, while my body
was already swaying, seeking the relief of

unconsciousness before the reality
could hit me.



The stairway tilted at the oddest angle.


Jacob's furious voice was suddenly in my ear, hissing

out a stream of profanities.
I felt a vague disapproval. His new friends were

clearly a bad influence.
I was on the couch without understanding how I got

there, and Jacob was still


swearing. It felt like there was an earthquake—the

couch was shaking under me.
"What did you do to her?" he demanded.
Alice ignored him. "Bella? Bella, snap out of it. We

have to hurry."
"Stay back," Jacob warned.
"Calm down, Jacob Black," Alice ordered. "You don't

want to do that so close to


her."


"I don't think I'll have any problem keeping my focus,"

he retorted, but his voice
sounded a little cooler.
"Alice?" My voice was weak. "What happened?" I asked,

even though I didn't


want to hear.
"I don't know," she suddenly wailed. "What is he

thinking?!"
I labored to pull myself up despite the dizziness. I

realized it was Jacob's arm I


was gripping for balance. He was the one shaking, not

the couch.


Alice was pulling a small silver phone from her bag

when my eyes relocated her.
Her fingers dialed the numbers so fast they were a

blur.
"Rose, I need to talk to Carlisle now." Her voice

whipped through the words.


"Fine, as soon as he's back. No, I'll be on a plane.

Look, have you heard anything


from Edward?"
Alice paused now, listening with an expression that

grew more appalled every
second. Her mouth opened into a little O of horror, and

the phone shook in her
hand.



"Why?" she gasped. "Why would you do that, Rosalie?"


Whatever the answer was, it made her jaw tighten in

anger. Her eyes flashed and
narrowed.
"Well, you're wrong on both counts, though, Rosalie, so

that would be a problem,


don't you think?" she asked acidly. "Yes, that's right.

She's absolutely fine—I was
wrong… It's a long story… But you're wrong about that

part, too, that's why I'm
calling… Yes, that's exactly what I saw."


Alice's voice was very hard and her lips were pulled

back from her teeth. "It's a
bit late for that, Rose. Save your remorse for someone

who believes it." Alice
snapped the phone shut with a sharp twist of her

fingers.


Her eyes were tortured as she turned to face me.
"Alice," I blurted out quickly. I couldn't let her

speak yet. I needed a few more


seconds before she spoke and her words destroyed what

was left of my life.
"Alice, Carlisle is back, though. He called just

before…"
She stared at me blankly. "How long ago?" she asked in

a hollow voice.
"Half a minute before you showed up."
"What did he say?" She really focused now, waiting for

my answer.
"I didn't talk to him." My eyes flickered to Jacob.
Alice turned her penetrating gaze on him. He flinched,

but held his place next to


me. He sit awkwardly, almost as if he were trying to

shield me with his body.


"He asked for Charlie, and I told him Charlie wasn't

here," Jacob muttered
resentfully.
"Is that everything?" Alice demanded, her voice like

ice.
"Then he hung up on me," Jacob spit back. A tremor

rolled down his spine,


shaking me with it.



"You told him Charlie was at the funeral," I reminded

him.
Alice jerked her head back toward me "What were his

exact words?"
"He said, 'He's not here,' and when Carlisle asked

where Charlie was, Jacob said,


'At the funeral.'"
Alice moaned and sank to her knees.
"Tell me Alice," I whispered.
"That wasn't Carlisle on the phone," she said

hopelessly.
"Are you calling me a liar?" Jacob snarled from beside

me.
Alice ignored him, focusing on my bewildered face.
"It was Edward." The words were just a choked whisper.

"He thinks you're dead."
My mind started to work again. These words weren't the

ones I'd been afraid of,


and the relief cleared my head.
"Rosalie told him I killed myself, didn't she?" I said,

sighing as I relaxed.
"Yes," Alice admitted, her eyes flashing hard again.
"In her defense, she did believe it. They rely on my

sight far too much for


something that works so imperfectly. But for her to

track him down to tell him


this! Didn't she realize… or care… ?" Her voice faded

away in horror.
"And when Edward called here, he thought Jacob meant my

funeral," I realized. It
stung to know how close I'd been, just inches away from

his voice. My nails dug
into Jacob's arm, but he didn't flinch.


Alice looked at me strangely. "You're not upset," she

whispered.
"Well, it's really rotten timing, but it will all get

straightened out. The next time


he calls, someone will tell him… what… really…" I

trailed off. Her gaze
strangled the words in my throat.
Why was she so panicked? Why was her face twisting now

with pity and horror?



What was it she had said to Rosalie on the phone just

now? Something about
what she'd seen… and Rosalie's remorse; Rosalie would

never feel remorse for
anything that happened to me. But if she'd hurt her

family, hurt her brother…


"Bella," Alice whispered. "Edward won't call again. He

believed her."


"I. Don't. Understand." My mouth framed each word in

silence. I couldn't push
the air out to actually say the words that would make

her explain what that meant.
"He's going to Italy."
It took the length of one heartbeat for me to

comprehend.
When Edward's voice came back to me now, it was not the

perfect imitation of


my delusions. It was just the weak, flat tone of my

memories. But the words
alone were enough to shred through my chest and leave

it gaping open. Words
from a time when I would have bet everything that I

owned or could borrow on
that fact that he loved me.


Well, I wasn't going to live without you, he'd said as

we watched Romeo and
Juliet die, here in this very room. But I wasn't sure

how to do it… I knew Emmett
and Jasper would never help… so I was thinking maybe I

would go to Italy and
do something to provoke the Volturi… You don't irritate

them. Not unless you
want to die.

Not unless you want to die.

"NO!" The half-shrieked denial was so loud after the

whispered words, it made us
all jump. I felt the blood rushing to my face as I

realized what she'd seen. "No!
No, no, no! He can't! He can't do that!"


"He made up his mind as soon as your friend confirmed

that it was too late to


save you."
"But he… he left! He didn't want me anymore! What

difference does it make
now? He knew I would die sometime!"



"I don't think he ever planned to outlive you by long,"

Alice said quietly.


"How dare he!" I screamed. I was on my feet now, and

Jacob rose uncertainly to
put himself between Alice and me again.
"Oh, get out of the way, Jacob!" I elbowed my way

around his trembling body


with desperate impatience. "What do we do?" I begged

Alice. There had to be


something. "Can't we call him? Can Carlisle?"
She was shaking her head. "That was the first thing I

tried. He left his phone in a
trash can in Rio—someone answered it…" she whispered.


"You said before we had to hurry. Hurry how? Let's do

it, whatever it is!"
"Bella, I—I don't think I can ask you to…" She trailed

off in indecision.
"Ask me!" I commanded.
She put her hands on my shoulders, holding me in place,

her fingers flexing


sporadically to emphasize her words. "We may already be

too late. I saw him
going to the Volturi… and asking to die." We both

cringed, and my eyes were
suddenly blind. I blinked feverishly at the tears. "It

all depends on what they
choose. I can't see that till they make a decision.


"But if they say no, and they might—Aro is fond of

Carlisle, and wouldn't want
to offend him—Edward has a backup plan. They're very

protective of their city. If
Edward does something to upset the peace, he thinks

they'll act to stop him. And
he's right. They will."


I stared at her with my jaw clenched in frustration.

I'd heard nothing yet that


would explain why we were still standing here.
"So if they agree to grant his favor, we're too late.

If they say no, and he comes
up with a plan to offend them quickly enough, we're too

late. If he gives into his
more theatrical tendencies… we might have time."



"Let's go!"
"Listen, Bella! Whether we are in time or not, we will

be in the heart of the
Volturi city. I will be considered his accomplice if he

is successful. You will be a
human who not only knows too much, but also smells too

good. There's a very


good chance that they will eliminate us all—though in

your case it won't be
punishment so much as dinnertime."
"This is what's keeping us here?" I asked in disbelief.

"I'll go alone if you're


afraid." I mentally tabulated what money was left in my

account, and wondered if
Alice would lend me the rest.


"I'm only afraid of getting you killed."
I snorted in disgust. "I almost get myself killed on a

daily basis! Tell me what I
need to do!"


"You write a note to Charlie. I'll call the airlines."
"Charlie," I gasped.
Not that my presence was protecting him, but could I

leave him here alone to


face…


"I'm not going to let anything happen to Charlie."

Jacob's low voice was gruff and
angry. "Screw the treaty."
I glanced up at him, and he scowled at my panicked

expression.
"Hurry, Bella," Alice interrupted urgently.
I ran to the kitchen, yanking the drawers open and

throwing the contents all over


the floor as I searched for a pen. A smooth, brown hand

held one out to me.
"Thanks," I mumbled, pulling the cap off with my teeth.

He silently handed me
the pad of paper we wrote phone messages on. I tore off

the top sheet and threw it
over my shoulder.



Dad, I wrote. I'm with Alice. Edward's in trouble. You

can ground me when I get

back. I know it's a bad time. So sorry. Love you so

much. Bella.
"Don't go," Jacob whispered. The anger was all gone now

that Alice was out of
sight.


I wasn't about to waste time arguing with him. "Please,

please, please take care of
Charlie," I said as I dashed back out to the front

room. Alice was waiting in the
doorway with a bag over her shoulder.


"Get your wallet—you'll need ID. Please tell me you

have a passport. I don't have


time to forge one."
I nodded and then raced up the stairs, my knees weak

with gratitude that my
mother had wanted to marry Phil on a beach in Mexico.

Of course, like all her
plans, it had fallen through. But not before I'd made

all the practical arrangements
I could for her.


I tore through my room. I stuffed my old wallet, a

clean T-shirt, and sweatpants
into my backpack, and then threw my toothbrush on top.

I hurled myself back
down the stairs. The sense of deja vu was nearly

stifling by this point. At least,
unlike the last time—when I'd run away from Forks to

escape thirsty vampires
rather than to find them—I wouldn't have to say goodbye

to Charlie in person.


Jacob and Alice were locked in some kind of

confrontation in front of the open
door, standing so far apart you wouldn't assume at

first that they were having a
conversation. Neither one seemed to notice my noisy

reappearance.


"You might control yourself on occasion, but these

leeches you're taking her to


—" Jacob was furiously accusing her.
"Yes. You're right, dog." Alice was snarling, too. "The

Volturi are the very
essence of our kind—they're the reason your hair stands

on end when you smell
me. They are the substance of your nightmares, the

dread behind your instincts.



I'm not unaware of that."
"And you take her to them like a bottle of wine for a

party!" he shouted.
"You think she'd be better off if I left her here

alone, with Victoria stalking her?"
"We can handle the redhead."
"Then why is she still hunting?"
Jacob growled, and a shudder rippled through his torso.
"Stop that!" I shouted at them both, wild with

impatience. "Argue when we get


back, let's go!"


Alice turned for the car, disappearing in her haste. I

hurried after her, pausing
automatically to turn and lock the door.
Jacob caught my arm with a shivering hand. "Please,

Bella. I'm begging."
His dark eyes were glistening with tears. A lump filled

my throat.
"Jake, I have to—"
"You don't, though. You really don't. You could stay

here with me. You could


stay alive. For Charlie. For me."


The engine of Carlisle's Mercedes purred; the rhythm of

the thrumming spiked
when Alice revved it impatiently.
I shook my head, tears spattering from my eyes with the

sharp motion. I pulled


my arm free, and he didn't fight me.
"Don't die, Bella," he choked out. "Don't go. Don't."
What if I never saw him again?
The thought pushed me past the silent tears; a sob

broke out from my chest. I


threw my arms around his waist and hugged for one

too-short moment, burying
my tear-wet face against his chest. He put his big hand

on the back of my hair, as
if to hold me there.



"Bye, Jake." I pulled his hand from my hair, and kissed

his palm. I couldn't bear


to look at his face. "Sorry," I whispered.
Then I spun and raced for the car. The door on the

passenger side was open and
waiting. I threw my backpack over the headrest and slid

in, slamming the door
behind me.


"Take care of Charlie!" I turned to shout out the

window, but Jacob was nowhere
in sight. As Alice stomped on the gas and—with the

tires screeching like human
screams—spun us around to face the road, I caught sight

of a shred of white near
the edge of the trees. A piece of a shoe.



19. HATE
WE MADE OUR FLIGHT WITH SECONDS TO SPARE, AND THEN the

true
torture began. The plane sat idle on the tarmac while

the flight attendants strolled
—so casually—up and down the aisle, patting the bags in

the overhead
compartments to make sure everything fit. The pilots

leaned out of the cockpit,
chatting with them as they passed. Alice's hand was

hard on my shoulder, holding
me in my seat while I bounced anxiously up and down.


"It's faster than running," she reminded me in a low

voice.
I just nodded in time with my bouncing.
At last the plane rolled lazily from the gate, building

speed with a gradual


steadiness that tortured me further. I expected some

kind of relief when we


achieved liftoff, but my frenzied impatience didn't

lessen.
Alice lifted the phone on the back of the seat in front

of her before we'd stopped
climbing, turning her back on the stewardess who eyed

her with disapproval.
Something about my expression stopped the stewardess

from coming over to
protest.


I tried to tune out what Alice was murmuring to Jasper;

I didn't want to hear the


words again, but some slipped through.
"I can't be sure, I keep seeing him do different

things, he keeps changing his
mind… A killing spree through the city, attacking the

guard, lifting a car over his
head in the main square… mostly things that would

expose them—he knows



that's the fastest way to force a reaction…"
"No, you can't." Alice's voice dropped till it was

nearly inaudible, though I was
sitting inches from her. Contrarily, I listened harder.

"Tell Emmett no… Well, go

after Emmett and Rosalie and bring them back… Think

about it, Jasper. If he
sees any of us, what do you think he will do?"
She nodded. "Exactly. I think Bella is the only

chance—if there is a chance… I'll

do everything that can be done, but prepare Carlisle;

the odds aren't good."
She laughed then, and there was a catch in her voice.

"I've thought of that… Yes,

I promise." Her voice became pleading. "Don't follow

me. I promise, Jasper. One
way or another, I'll get out… And I love you."
She hung up, and leaned back in her seat with her eyes

closed. "I hate lying to

him."

"Tell me everything, Alice," I begged. "I don't

understand. Why did you tell
Jasper to stop Emmett, why can't they come help us?"
"Two reasons," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"The first I told him. We

could try to stop Edward ourselves—if Emmett could get

his hands on him, we
might be able to stop him long enough to convince him

you're alive. But we can't
sneak up on Edward. And if he sees us coming for him,

he'll just act that much
faster. He'll throw a Buiclc through a wall or

something, and the Volturi will take
him down.

"That's the second reason of course, the reason I

couldn't say to Jasper. Because if
they're there and the Volturi kill Edward, they'll

fight them. Bella." She opened
her eyes and stared at me, beseeching. "If there were

any chance we could win…
if there were a way that the four of us could save my

brother by fighting for him,
maybe it would be different. But we can't, and, Bella,

I can't lose Jasper like that."

I realized why her eyes begged for my understanding.

She was protecting Jasper,


at our expense, and maybe at Edward's, too. I

understood, and I did not think


badly of her. I nodded.
"Couldn't Edward hear you, though.'" I asked. "Wouldn't

he know, as soon as he
heard your thoughts, that I was alive, that there was

no point to this?"


Not that there was any justification, either way. I

still couldn't believe that he was
capable of reacting like this. It made no sense! I

remembered with painful clarity
his words that day on the sofa, while we watched Romeo

and Juliet kill
themselves, one after the other. I wasn't going to live

without you, he'd said, as if
it should be such an obvious conclusion. But the words

he had spoken in the
forest as he'd left me had canceled all that

out—forcefully.


"If he were listening," she explained. "But believe it

or not, it's possible to lie
with your thoughts. If you had died, I would still try

to stop him. And I would be
thinking 'she's alive, she's alive' as hard as I could.

He knows that."


I ground my teeth in mute frustration.


"If there were any way to do this without you, Bella, I

wouldn't be endangering
you like this. It's very wrong of me."
"Don't be stupid. I'm the last thing you should be

worrying about." I shook my


head impatiently. "Tell me what you meant, about hating

to lie to Jasper."
She smiled a grim smile. "I promised him I would get

out before they killed me,


too. It's not something I can guarantee—not by a long

shot." She raised her
eyebrows, as if willing me to take the danger more

seriously.
"Who are these Volturi?" I demanded in a whisper. "What

makes them so much


more dangerous than Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, and you?"

It was hard to imagine


something scarier than that.
She took a deep breath, and then abruptly leveled a

dark glance over my
shoulder. I turned in time to see the man in the aisle

seat looking away as if he



wasn't listening to us. He appeared to be a

businessman, in a dark suit with a
power tie and a laptop on his knees. While I stared at

him with irritation, he
opened the computer and very conspicuously put

headphones on.


I leaned closer to Alice. Her lips were at my ears as

she breathed the story.
"I was surprised that you recognized the name," she

said. "That you understood


so immediately what it meant—when I said he was going

to Italy. I thought I
would have to explain. How much did Edward tell you?"
"He just said they were an old, powerful family—like

royalty. That you didn't


antagonize them unless you wanted to… die," I

whispered. The last word was


hard to choke out.
"You have to understand," she said, her voice slower,

more measured now. "We
Cullens are unique in more ways than you know. It's…

abnormal for so many of
us to live together in peace. It's the same for Tanya's

family in the north, and
Carlisle speculates that abstaining makes it easier for

us to be civilized, to form
bonds based on love rather than survival or

convenience. Even James's little
coven of three was unusually large—and you saw how

easily Laurent left them.
Our kind travel alone, or in pairs, as a general rule.

Carlisle's family is the biggest
in existence, as far as I know, with the one exception.

The Volturi.


"There were three of them originally, Aro, Caius, and

Marcus."
"I've seen them," I mumbled. "In the picture in

Carlisle's study."
Alice nodded. "Two females joined them over time, and

the five of them make up


the family. I'm not sure, but I suspect that their age

is what gives them the ability
to live peacefully together. They are well over three

thousand years old. Or
maybe it's their gifts that give them extra tolerance.

Like Edward and I, Aro and
Marcus are… talented."


She continued before I could ask. "Or maybe it's just

their love of power that



binds them together. Royalty is an apt description."
"But if there are only five—"
"Five that make up the family," she corrected. "That

doesn't include their guard."
I took a deep breath. "That sounds… serious."
"Oh, it is," she assured me. "There were nine members

of the guard that were


permanent, the last time we heard. Others are more…

transitory. It changes. And
many of them are gifted as well—with formidable gifts,

gifts that make what I
can do look like a parlor trick. The Volturi chose them

for their abilities, physical
or otherwise."


I opened my mouth, and then closed it. I didn't think I

wanted to know how bad


the odds were.
She nodded again, as if she understood exactly what I

was thinking. "They don't
get into too many confrontations. No one is stupid

enough to mess with them.
They stay in their city, leaving only as duty calls."


"Duty?" I wondered.
"Didn't Edward tell you what they do?"
"No," I said, feeling the blank expression on my face.
Alice looked over my head again, toward the

businessman, and put her wintry


lips back to my ear.
"There's a reason he called them royalty… the ruling

class. Over the millennia,


they have assumed the position of enforcing our

rules—which actually translates
to punishing transgressors. They fulfill that duty

decisively."
My eyes popped wide with shock. "There are rules?" I

asked in a voice that was


too loud.
"Shh!"



"Shouldn't somebody have mentioned this to me earlier?"

I whispered angrily. "I
mean, I wanted to be a… to be one of you! Shouldn't

somebody have explained
the rules to me?"


Alice chuckled once at my reaction. "It's not that

complicated, Bella. There's only
one core restriction—and if you think about it, you can

probably figure it out for
yourself."


I thought about it. "Nope, I have no idea."


She shook her head, disappointed. "Maybe it's too

obvious. We just have to keep
our existence a secret."
"Oh," I mumbled. It was obvious.
"It makes sense, and most of us don't need policing,"

she continued. "But, after a


few centuries, sometimes one of us gets bored. Or

crazy. I dor't know. And then
the Volturi step in before it can compromise them, or

the rest of us."


"So Edward…"
"Is planning to flout that in their own city—the city

they've secretly held for three
thousand years, since the time of the Etruscans. They

are so protective of their
city that they don't allow hunting within its walls.

Volterra is probably the safest
city in the world—from vampire attack at the very

least."


"But you said they didn't leave. How do they eat?"
"They don't leave. They bring in their food from the

outside, from quite far away


sometimes. It gives their guard something to do when

they're not out annihilating
mavericks. Or protecting Volterra from exposure…"
"From situations like this one, like Edward," I

finished her sentence. It was


amazingly easy to say his name now. I wasn't sure what

the difference was.
Maybe because I wasn't really planning on living much

longer without seeing
him. Or at all, if we were too late. It was comforting

to know that I would have an



easy out.


"I doubt they've ever had a situation quite like this,"

she muttered, disgusted.
"You don't get a lot of suicidal vampires."
The sound that escaped out of my mouth was very quiet,

but Alice seemed to


understand that it was a cry of pain. She wrapped her

thin, strong arm around my
shoulders.


"We'll do what we can, Bella. It's not over yet."
"Not yet." I let her comfort me, though I knew she

thought our chances were
poor. "And the Volturi will get us if we mess up."


Alice stiffened. "You say that like it's a good thing."
I shrugged.
"Knock it off, Bella, or we're turning around in New

York and going back to


Forks."
"What?"
"You know what. If we're too late for Edward, I'm going

to do my damnedest to


get you back to Charlie, and I don't want any trouble

from you. Do you
understand that?"
"Sure, Alice."
She pulled back slightly so that she could glare at me.

"No trouble."
"Scout's honor," I muttered.
She rolled her eyes.


"Let me concentrate, now. I'm trying to see what he's

planning."
She left her arm around me, but let her head fall back

against the seat and closed
her eyes. She pressed her free hand to the side of her

face, rubbing her fingertips
against her temple.



I watched her in fascination for a long time.

Eventually, she became utterly
motionless, hei face like a stone sculpture. The

minutes passed, and if I didn't
know better, I would have thought she'd fallen asleep.

I didn't dare interrupt her
to ask what was going on.


I wished there was something safe for me to think

about. I couldn't allow myself
to consider the horrors we were headed toward, or, more

horrific yet, the chance
that we might fail—not if I wanted to keep from

screaming aloud.


I couldn't anticipate anything, either. Maybe, if I

were very, very, very lucky, I
would somehow be able to save Edward. But I wasn't so

stupid as to think that
saving him would mean that I could stay with him. I was

no different, no more
special than I'd been before. There would be no new

reason for him to want me
now. Seeing him and losing him again…


I fought back against the pain. This was the price I

had to pay to save his life. I


would pay it.
They showed a movie, and my neighbor got headphones.

Sometimes I watched
the figures moving across the little screen, but I

couldn't even tell if the movie
was supposed to be a romance or a horror film.


After an eternity, the plane began to descend toward

New York City. Alice
remained in her trance. I dithered, reaching out to

touch her, only to pull my hand
back again. This happened a dozen times before the

plane touched town with a
jarring impact.


"Alice," I finally said. "Alice, we have to go."
I touched her arm.
Her eyes came open very slowly. She shook her head from

side to side for a


moment.
"Anything new?" I asked in a low voice, conscious of

the man listening on the



other side of me.


"Not exactly," she breathed in a voice I could barely

catch. "He's getting closer.
He's deciding how he's going to ask."
We had to run for our connection, but that was

good—better than having to wait.


As soon as the plane was in the air, Alice closed her

eyes and slid back into the
same stupor as before. I waited as patiently as I

could. When it was dark again, I
opened the window to stare out into the flat black that

was no better than the
window shade.


I was grateful that I'd had so many months' practice

with controlling my thoughts.
Instead of dwelling on the terrifying possibilities

that, no matter what Alice said,
I did not intend to survive, I concentrated on lesser

problems. Like, what I was
going to say to Charlie if I got back:' That was a

thorny enough problem to
occupy several hours. And Jacob? He'd promised to wait

for me, but did that
promise still apply? Would I end up home alone in

Forks, with no one at all?
Maybe I didn't want to survive, no matter what

happened.


It felt like seconds later when Alice shook my

shoulder—I hadn't realized I'd


fallen asleep.
"Bella," she hissed, her voice a little too loud in the

darkened cabin full of
sleeping humans.


I wasn't disoriented—I hadn't been out long enough for

that.
"What's wrong?"
Alice's eyes gleamed in the dim light of a reading lamp

in the row behind us.
"It's not wrong." She smiled fiercely. "It's right.

They're deliberating, but they've


decided to tell him no."
"The Volturi?" I muttered, groggy.
"Of course, Bella, keep up. I can see what they're

going to say."



"Tell me."


An attendant tiptoed down the aisle to us. "Can I get

you ladies a pillow?" His
hushed whisper was a rebuke to our comparatively loud

conversation.
"No, thank you." Alice beamed at up at him, her smile

shockingly lovely. The


attendant's expression was dazed as he turned and

stumbled his way back.
"Tell me," I breathed almost silently.
She whispered into my ear. "They're interested in

him—they think his talent


could be uselul. They're going to offer him a place

with them."
"What will he say?"
"I can't see that yet, but I'll bet it's colorful." She

grinned again. "This is the first


good news—the first break. They're intrigued; they

truly don't want to destroy him
—'wasteful,' that's the word Aro will use—and that may

be enough to force him
to get creative. The longer he spends on his plans, the

better for us."


It wasn't enough to make me hopeful, to make me feel

the relief she obviously
felt. There were still so many ways that we could be

too late. And if I didn't get
through the walls into the Volturi city, I wouldn't be

able to stop Alice from
dragging me back home.


"Alice?"
"What?"
"I'm confused. How are you seeing this so clearly? And

then other times, you see


things far away—things that don't happen?"
Her eyes tightened. I wondered if she guessed what I

was thinking of.
"It's clear because it's immediate and close, and I'm

really concentrating. The


faraway things that come on their own—those are just

glimpses, faint maybes.
Plus, I see my kind more easily than yours. Edward is

even easier because I'm so



attuned to him."
"You see me sometimes," I reminded her.
She shook her head. "Not as clearly."
I sighed. "I really wish you could have been right

about me. In the beginning,


when you first saw things about me, before we even

met…"
"What do you mean?"
"You saw me become one of you." I barely mouthed the

words.
She sighed. "It was a possibility at the time."
"At the time," I repeated.
"Actually, Bella…" She hesitated, and then seemed to

make a choice. "Honestly,


I think it's all gotten beyond ridiculous. I'm debating

whether to just change you


myself."
I stared at her, frozen with shock. Instantly, my mind

resisted her words. I
couldn't afford that kind of hope if she changed her

mind.


"Did I scare you?" she wondered. "I thought that's what

you wanted."


"I do!" I gasped. "Oh, Alice, do it now! I could help

you so much—and I
wouldn't slow you down. Bite me!"
"Shh," she cautioned. The attendant was looking in our

direction again. "Try to


be reasonable," she whispered. "We don't have enough

time. We have to get into
Volterra tomorrow. You'd be writhing in pain for days."

She made a face. "And I
don't think the other passengers would react well."


I bit my lip. "If you don't do it now, you'll change

your mind."


"No." She frowned, her expression unhappy. "I don't

think I will. He'll be furious,
but what will he be able to do about it?"
My heart beat faster. "Nothing at all."



She laughed quietly, and then sighed. "You have too

much faith in me, Bella. I'm
not sure that I can. I'll probably just end up killing

you."
"I'll take my chances."
"You are so bizarre, even for a human."


"Thanks."
"Oh well, this is purely hypothetical at this point,

anyway. First we have to live
through tomorrow."


"Good point." But at least I had something to hope for

if we did. If Alice made
good on her promise—and if she didn't kill me—then

Edward could run after his
distractions all he wanted, and I could follow. I

wouldn't let him be distracted.
Maybe, when I was beautiful and strong, he wouldn't

want distractions.


"Go back to sleep," she encouraged me. "I'll wake you

up when there's something


new."
"Right," I grumbled, certain that sleep was a lost

cause now. Alice pulled her legs
up on the seat, wrapping her arms around them and

leaning her forehead against
her knees. She rocked back and forth as she

concentrated.


I rested my head against the seat, watching her, and

the next thing I knew, she
was snapping the shade closed against the faint

brightening in the eastern sky.


"What's happening?" I mumbled.
"They've told him no," she said quietly. I noticed at

once that her enthusiasm was
gone.


My voice choked in my throat with panic. "What's he

going to do?"


"It was chaotic at first. I was only getting flickers,

he was changing plans so
quickly."
"What kinds of plans?" I pressed.



"There was a bad hour," she whispered. "He'd decided to

go hunting."
She looked at me, seeing the comprehension in my face.
"In the city," she explained. "It got very close. He

changed his mind at the last


minute."
"He wouldn't want to disappoint Carlisle," I mumbled.

Not at the end.
"Probably," she agreed.
"Will there be enough time?" As I spoke, there was a

shift in the cabin pressure. I


could feel the plane angling downward.
"I'm hoping so—if he sticks to his latest decision,

maybe."
"What is that?"
"He's going to keep it simple. He's just going to walk

out into the sun."
Just walk out into the sun. That was all.
It would be enough. The image of Edward in the

meadow—glowing, shimmering


like his skin was made of a million diamond facets—was

burned into my
memory. No human who saw that would ever forget. The

Volturi couldn't
possibly allow it. Not if they wanted to keep their

city inconspicuous.


I looked at the slight gray glow that shone through the

opened windows. "We'll


be too late," I whispered, my throat closing in panic.
She shook her head. "Right now, he's leaning toward the

melodramatic. He wants
the biggest audience possible, so he'll choose the main

plaza, under the clock
tower. The walls are high there. He'll wait till the

sun is exactly overhead."


"So we have till noon?"
"If we're lucky. If he sticks with this decision."
The pilot came on over the intercom, announcing, first

in French and then in


English, our imminent landing. The seat belt lights

dinged and flashed.



"How far is it from Florence to Volterra?"
"That depends on how fast you drive… Bella?"
"Yes?"
She eyed me speculatively. "How strongly are you

opposed to grand theft auto?"


A bright yellow Porsche screamed to a stop a few feet

in front of where I paced,
the word TURBO scrawled in silver cursive across its

back. Everyone beside me
on the crowded airport sidewalk stared.


"Hurry, Bella!" Alice shouted impatiently through the

open passenger window.


I ran to the door and threw myself in, feeling as

though I might as well be
wearing a black stocking over my head.
"Sheesh, Alice," I complained. "Could you pick a more

conspicuous car to steal?"
The interior was black leather, and the windows were

tinted dark. It felt safer


inside, like nighttime.


Alice was already weaving, too fast, through the thick

airport traffic—sliding
through tiny spaces between the cars as I cringed and

fumbled for my seat belt.
"The important question," she corrected, "is whether I

could have stolen a faster


car, and I don't think so. I got lucky."
"I'm sure that will be very comforting at the

roadblock."
She trilled a laugh. "Trust me, Bella. If anyone sets

up a roadblock, it will be


behind us." She hit the gas then, as if to prove her

point.
I probably should have watched out the window as first

the city of Florence and
then the Tuscan landscape flashed past with blurring

speed. This was my first trip
anywhere, and maybe my last, too. But Alice's driving

frightened me, despite the
fact that I knew I could trust her behind the wheel.

And I was too tortured with
anxiety to really see the hills or the walled towns

that looked like castles in the



distance.
"Do you see anything more?"
"There's something going on," Alice muttered. "Some

kind of festival. The streets


are full of people and red flags. What's the date

today?"
I wasn't entirely sure. "The nineteenth, maybe?"
"Well, that's ironic. It's Saint Marcus Day."
"Which means?"
She chuckled darkly. "The city holds a celebration

every year. As the legend


goes, a Christian missionary, a Father Marcus—Marcus of

the Voltun, in fact—
drove all the vampires from Volterra fifteen hundred

years ago. The story claims
he was martyred in Romania, still trying to drive away

the vampire scourge. Of
course that's nonsense—he's never left the city. But

that's where some of the
superstitions about things like crosses and garlic come

from. Father Marcus used
them so successfully. And vampires don't trouble

Volterra, so they must work."
Her smile was sardonic. "It's become more of a

celebration of the city, and
recognition for the police force—after all, Volterra is

an amazingly safe city. The
police get the credit."


I was realizing what she meant when she'd said ironic.

"They're not going to be
very happy if Edward messes things up for them on St.

Marcus Day, are they?"


She shook her head, her expression grim. "No. They'll

act very quickly."
I looked away, fighting against my teeth as they tried

to break through the skin of
my lower lip. Bleeding was not the best idea right now.


The sun was terrifyingly high in the pale blue sky.
"He's still planning on noon?" I checked.
"Yes. He's decided to wait. And they're waiting for

him."



"Tell me what I have to do."


She kept her eyes on the winding road—the needle on the

speedometer was
touching the far right on the dial.
"You don't have to do anything. He just has to see you

before he moves into the


light. And he has to see you before he sees me."
"How are we going to work that?"
A small red car seemed to be racing backward as Alice

zoomed around it.
"I'm going to get you as close as possible, and then

you're going to run in the


direction I point you."
I nodded.
"Try not to trip," she added. "We don't have time for a

concussion today."
I groaned. That would be just like me—ruin everything,

destroy the world, in a


moment of klutziness.
The sun continued to climb in the sky while Alice raced

against it. It was too


brigh:, and that had me panicking. Maybe he wouldn't

feel the need to wait for
noon after all.
"There," Alice said abruptly, pointing to the castle

city atop the closest hill.
I stared at it, feeling the very first hint of a new

kind of fear. Every minute since


yesterday morning—it seemed like a week ago—when Alice

had spoken his
name at the foot of the stairs, there had been only one

fear. And yet, now, as I
stared at the ancient sienna walls and towers crowning

the peak of the steep hill, I
felt another, more selfish kind of dread thrill through

me.


I supposed the city was very beautiful. It absolutely

terrified me.
"Volterra," Alice announced in a flat, icy voice.



20. VOLTERRA
WE BEGAN THE STEEP CLIMB, AND THE ROAD GREW CONGESTED.
As we wound higher, the cars became too close together

for Alice to weave
insanely between them anymore. We slowed to a crawl

behind a little tan Peugeot.


"Alice," I moaned. The clock on the dash seemed to be

speeding up.


"It's the only way in," she tried soothe me. But her

voice was too strained to
comfort.
The cars continued to edge forward, one car length at a

time. The sun beamed


down brilliantly, seeming already overhead.
The cars crept one by one toward the city. As we got

closer, I could see cars
parked by the side of the road with people getting out

to walk the test of the way.
At first I thought it was just impatience—something I

could easily understand.
But then we came around a switchback, and I could see

the filled parking lot


outside the city wall, the crowds of people walking

through the gates. No one was
being allowed to drive through.
"Alice," I whispered urgently.
"I know," she said. Her face was chiseled from ice.
Now that I was looking, and we were crawling slowly

enough to see, I could tell


that it was very windy. The people crowding toward the

gate gripped their hats
and tugged their hair out of their faces. Their clothes

billowed around them. I also
noticed that the color red was everywhere. Red shirts,

red hats, red flags dripping



like long ribbons beside the gate, whipping in the

wind—as I watched, the
brilliant crimson scarf one woman had tied around her

hair was caught in a
sudden gust. It twisted up into the air above her,

writhing like it was alive. She
reached for it, jumping in the air, but it continued to

flutter higher, a patch of
bloody color against the dull, ancient walls.


"Bella." Alice spoke quickly in a fierce, low voice. "I

can't see what the guard
here will decide now—if this doesn't work, you're going

to have to go in alone.
You're going to have to run. Just keep asking for the

Palazzo dei Priori, and
running in the direction they tell you. Don't get

lost."


"Palazzo dei Priori, Palazzo dei Priori," I repeated

the name over and over again,


trying to get it down.
"Or 'the clock tower,' if they speak English. I'll go

around and try to find a
secluded spot somewhere behind the city where I can go

over the wall."


I nodded. "Palazzo dei Priori."
"Edward will be under the clock tower, to the north of

the square. There's a


narrow alleyway on the right, and he'll be in the

shadow there. You have to get
his attention before he can move into the sun."
I nodded furiously.
Alice was near the front of the line. A man in a navy

blue uniform was directing


the flow of traffic, turning the cars away from the

full lot. They U-turned and


headed back to find a place beside the road. Then it

was Alice's turn.
The uniformed man motioned lazily, not paying

attention. Alice accelerated,
edging around him and heading for the gate. He shouted

something at us, but held
his ground, waving frantically to keep the next car

from following our bad
example.


The man at the gate wore a matching uniform. As we

approached him, the



throngs of tourists passed, crowding the sidewalks,

staring curiously at the pushy,


flashy Porsche.
The guard stepped into the middle of the street. Alice

angled the car carefully
before she came to a full stop. The sun beat against my

window, and she was in
shadow. She swiftly reached behind the seat and grabbed

something from her bag.


The guard came around the car with an irritated

expression, and tapped on her


window angrily.
She rolled the window down halfway, and I watched him

do a double take when
he saw the face behind the dark glass.


"I'm sorry, only tour buses allowed in the city today,

miss," he said in English,
with a heavy accent. He was apologetic, now, as if he

wished he had better news
for the strikingly beautiful woman.


"It's a private tour," Alice said, flashing an alluring

smile. She reached her hand
out cf the window, into the sunlight. I froze, until I

realized she was wearing an
elbow-length, tan glove. She took his hand, still

raised from tapping her window,
and pulled it into the car. She put something into his

palm, and folded his fingers
around it.


His face was dazed as he retrieved his hand and stared

at the thick roll of money
he now held. The outside bill was a thousand dollar

bill.
"Is this a joke?" he mumbled.


Alice's smile was blinding. "Only if you think it's

funny."
He looked at her, his eyes staring wide. I glanced

nervously at the clock on the
dash. If Edward stuck to his plan, we had only five

minutes left.


"I'm in a wee bit of a hurry," she hinted, still

smiling.
The guard blinked twice, and then shoved the money

inside his vest. He took a
step away from the window and waved us on. None of the

passing people seemed



to notice the quiet exchange. Alice drove into the

city, and we both sighed in


relief.
The street was very narrow, cobbled with the same color

stones as the faded
cinnamon brown buildings that darkened the street with

their shade. It had the
feel of an alleyway. Red flags decorated the walls,

spaced only a few yards apart,
flapping in the wind that whistled through the narrow

lane.


It was crowded, and the foot traffic slowed our

progress.


"Just a little farther," Alice encouraged me; I was

gripping the door handle, ready
to throw myself into the street as soon as she spoke

the word.
She drove in quick spurts and sudden stops, and the

people in the crowd shook


their fists at us and said angry words that I was glad

I couldn't understand. She
turned onto a little path that couldn't have been meant

for cars; shocked people
had to squeeze into doorways as we scraped by. We found

another street at the
end. The buildings were taller here; they leaned

together overhead so that no
sunlight touched the pavement—the thrashing red flags

on either side nearly met.
The crowd was thicker here than anywhere else. Alice

stopped the car. I had the
door open before we were at a standstill.


She pointed to where the street widened into a patch of

bright openness. "There—
we're at the southern end of the square. Run straight

across, to the right of the
clock tower. I'll find a way around—"


Her breath caught suddenly, and when she spoke again,

her voice was a hiss.


"They're everywhere?"
I froze in place, but she pushed me out of the car.

"Forget about them. You have
two minutes. Go, Bella, go!" she shouted, climbing out

of the car as she spoke.


I didn't pause to watch Alice melt into the shadows. I

didn't stop to close my door
behind me. I shoved a heavy woman out of my way and ran

flat out, head down,



paying little attention to anything but the uneven

stones beneath my feet.
Coming out of the dark lane, I was blinded by the

brilliant sunlight beating down
into the principal plaza. The wind whooshed into me,

flinging my hair into my


eyes and blinding me further. It was no wonder that I

didn't see the wall of flesh
until I'd smacked into it.
There was no pathway, no crevice between the close

pressed bodies. I pushed


against them furiously, fighting the hands that shoved

back. I heard exclamations
of irritation and even pain as I battled my way

through, but none were in a
language I understood. The faces were a blur of anger

and surprise, surrounded
by the ever-present red. A blond woman scowled at me,

and the red scarf coiled
around her neck looked like a gruesome wound. A child,

lifted on a man's
shoulders to see over the crowd, grinned down at me,

his lips distended over a set
of plastic vampire fangs.


The throng jostled around me, spinning me the wrong

direction. I was glad the
clock was so visible, or I'd never keep my course

straight. But both hands on the
clock pointed up toward the pitiless sun, and, though I

shoved viciously against
the crowd, I knew I was too late. I wasn't halfway

across. I wasn't going to make
it. I was stupid and slow and human, and we were all

going to die because of it.


I hoped Alice would get out. I hoped that she would see

me from some dark


shadow and know that I had failed, so she could go home

to Jasper.
I listened, above the angry exclamations, trying to

hear the sound of discovery:
the gasp, maybe the scream, as Edward came into

someone's view.


But there was a break in the crowd—I could see a bubble

of space ahead. I
pushed urgently toward it, not realizing till I bruised

my shins against the bricks
that there was a wide, square fountain set into the

center of the plaza.


I was nearly crying with relief as I flung my leg over

the edge and ran through the
knee-deep water. It sprayed all around me as I thrashed

my way across the pool.



Even in the sun, the wind was glacial, and the wet made

the cold actually painful.
But the fountain was very wide; it let me cross the

center of the square and then
some in mere seconds. I didn't pause when I hit the far

edge—I used the low wall
as a springboard, throwing myself into the crowd.


They moved more readily for me now, avoiding the icy

water that splattered from


my dripping clothes as I ran. I glanced up at the clock

again.
A deep, booming chime echoed through the square. It

throbbed in the stones
under my feet. Children cried, covering their ears. And

I started screaming as I
ran.


"Edward!" I screamed, knowing it was useless. The crowd

was too loud, and my


voice was breathless with exertion. But I couldn't stop

screaming.
The clock tolled again. I ran past a child in his

mother's arms—his hair was
almost white in the dazzling sunlight. A circle of tall

men, all wearing red
blazers, called out warnings as I barreled through

them. The clock tolled again.


On the other side of the men in blazers, there was a

break in the throng, space
between the sightseers who milled aimlessly around me.

My eyes searched the
dark narrow passage to the right of the wide square

edifice under the tower. I
couldn't see the street level—there were still too many

people in the way. The
clock tolled again.


It was hard to see now. Without the crowd to break the

wind, it whipped at my
face and burned my eyes. I couldn't be sure if that was

the reason behind my
tears, or if I was crying in defeat as the clock tolled

again.


A little family of four stood nearest to the alley's

mouth. The two girls wore
crimson dresses, with matching ribbons tying their dark

hair back. The father
wasn't tall. It seemed like I could see something

bright in the shadows, just over
his shoulder. I hurtled toward them, trying to see past

the stinging tears. The



clock tolled, and the littlest girl clamped her hands

over her ears.
The older girl, just waist high on her mother, hugged

her mother's leg and stared


into the shadows behind them. As I watched, she tugged

on her mother's elbow
and pointed toward the darkness. The clock tolled, and

I was so close now.
I was close enough to hear her high-pitched voice. Her

father stared at me in


surprise as I bore down on them, rasping out Edward's

name over and over again.


The older girl giggled and said something to her

mother, gesturing toward the
shadows again impatiently.
I swerved around the father—he clutched the baby out of

my way—and sprinted


for the gloomy breach behind them as the clock tolled

over my head.
"Edward, no!" I screamed, but my voice was lost in the

roar of the chime.
I could see him now. And I could see that he could not

see me.
It was really him, no hallucination this time. And I

realized that my delusions


were more flawed than I'd realized; they'd never done

him justice.
Edward stood, motionless as a statue, just a few feet

from the mouth of the alley.
His eyes were closed, the rings underneath them deep

purple, his arms relaxed at
his sides, his palms turned forward. His expression was

very peaceful, like he
was dreaming pleasant things. The marble skin of his

chest was bare—there was


a small pile of white fabric at his feet. The light

reflecting from the pavement of
the square gleamed dimly from his skin.
I'd never seen anything more beautiful—even as I ran,

gasping and screaming, I


could appreciate that. And the last seven months meant

nothing. And his words in
the forest meant nothing. And it did not matter if he

did not want me. I would
never want anything but him, no matter how long I

lived.


The clock tolled, and he took a large stride toward the

light.
"No!" I screamed. "Edward, look at me!"



He wasn't listening. He smiled very slightly. He raised

his foot to take the step


that would put him directly in the path of the sun.
I slammed into him so hard that the force would have

hurled me to the ground if
his arms hadn't caught me and held me up. It knocked my

breath out of me and
snapped my head back.


His dark eyes opened slowly as the clock tolled again.
He looked down at me with quiet surprise.
"Amazing," he said, his exquisite voice full of wonder,

slightly amused. "Carlisle


was right."


"Edward," I tried to gasp, but my voice had no sound.

"You've got to get back
into the shadows. You have to move!"
He seemed bemused. His hand brushed softly against my

cheek. He didn't appear


to notice that I was trying to force him back. I could

have been pushing against
the alley walls for all the progress I was making. The

clock tolled, but he didn't
react.


It was very strange, for I knew we were both in mortal

danger. Still, in that
instant, I felt well. Whole. I could feel my heart

racing in my chest, the blood
pulsing hot and fast through my veins again. My lungs

filled deep with the sweet
scent that came off his skin. It was like there had

never been any hole in my
chest. I was perfect—not healed, but as if there had

been no wound in the first
place.


"I can't believe how quick it was. I didn't feel a

thing—they're very good," he
mused, closing his eyes again and pressing his lips

against my hair. His voice was
like honey and velvet. "Death, that hath sucked the

honey of thy breath, hath had
no power yet upon thy beauty," he murmured, and I

recognized the line spoken by
Romeo in the tomb. The clock boomed out its final chime

"You smell just exactly



the same as always," he went on. "So maybe this is

hell. I don't care. I'll take it."


"I'm not dead," I interrupted. "And neither are you!

Please Edward, we have to
move. They can't be far away!"
I struggled in his arms, and his brow furrowed in

confusion.
"What was that?" he asked politely.
"We're not dead, not yet! But we have to get out of

here before the Volturi—"
Comprehension flickered on his face as I spoke. Before

I could finish, he


suddenly yanked me away from the edge of the shadows,

spinning me effortlessly
so that my back was tight against the brick wall, and

his back was to me as he
faced away into the alley. His arms spread wide,

protectively, in front of me.


I peeked under his arm to see two dark shapes detach

themselves from the gloom.
"Greetings, gentlemen," Edward's voice was calm and

pleasant, on the surface. "I


don't think I'll be requiring your services today. I

would appreciate it very much,
however, if you would send my thanks to your masters."
"Shall we take this conversation to a more appropriate

venue?" a smooth voice


whispered menacingly.


"I don't believe that will be necessary." Edward's

voice was harder now. "I know
your instructions, Felix. I haven't broken any rules."
"Felix merely meant to point out the proximity of the

sun," the other shadow said


in a soothing tone. They were both concealed within

smoky gray cloaks that


reached to the ground and undulated in the wind. "Let

us seek better cover."
"I'll be right behind you," Edward said dryly. "Bella,

why don't you go back to
the square and enjoy the festival?"


"No, bring the girl," the first shadow said, somehow

injecting a leer into his
whisper.



"I don't think so." The pretense of civility

disappeared. Edward's voice was flat
and icy. His weight shifted infinitesimally, and I

could see that he was preparing
to fight.


"No." I mouthed the word.
"Shh," he murmured, only for me.
"Felix," the second, more reasonable shadow cautioned.

"Not here." He turned to


Edward. "Aro would simply like to speak with you again,

if you have decided not
to force our hand after all."


"Certainly," Edward agreed. '"But the girl goes free."
"I'm afraid that's not possible," the polite shadow

said regretfully. "We do have
rules to obey."


"Then I'm afraid that I'll be unable to accept Aro's

invitation, Demetri."
"That's just fine," Felix purred. My eyes were

adjusting to the deep shade, and I


could see that Felix was very big, tall and thick

through the shoulders. His size
reminded me of Emmett.
"Aro will be disappointed," Demetri sighed.
"I'm sure he'll survive the letdown," Edward replied.
Felix and Demetri stole closer toward the mouth of the

alley, spreading out


slightly so they could come at Edward from two sides.

They meant to force him
deeper into the alley, to avoid a scene. No reflected

light found access to their
skin; they were safe inside their cloaks.


Edward didn't move an inch. He was dooming himself by

protecting me.
Abruptly, Edward's head whipped around, toward the

darkness of the winding
alley, and Demetri and Felix did the same, in response

to some sound or
movement too subtle for my senses.



"Let's behave ourselves, shall we?" a lilting voice

suggested. "There are ladies


present."
Alice tripped lightly to Edward's side, her stance

casual. There was no hint of any
underlying tension. She looked so tiny, so fragile. Her

little arms swung like a
child's.


Yet Demetri and Felix both straightened up, their

cloaks swirling slightly as a
gust of wind funneled through the alley. Felix's face

soured. Apparently, they
didn't like even numbers.


"We're not alone," she reminded them.
Demetri glanced over his shoulder. A few yards into the

square, the little family,
with the girls in their red dresses, was watching us.

The mother was speaking
urgently to her husband, her eyes on the five of us.

She looked away when


Demetri met her gaze. The man walked a few steps

farther into the plaza, and
tapped one of the red-blazered men on the shoulder.
Demetri shook his head. "Please, Edward, let's be

reasonable," he said.
"Let's," Edward agreed. "And we'll leave quietly now,

with no one the wiser."
Demetri sighed in frustration. "At least let us discuss

this more privately."
Six men in red now joined the family as they watched us

with anxious


expressions. I was very conscious of Edward's

protective stance in front of me—
sure that this was what caused their alarm. I wanted to

scream to them to run.
Edward's teeth came together audibly. "No."
Felix smiled.
"Enough."
The voice was high, reedy, and n came from behind us.
I peeked under Edward's other arm to see a small, dark

shape coming toward us.



By the way the edges billowed, I knew it would be

another one of them. Who


else?
At first I thought it was a young boy. The newcomer was

as tiny as Alice, with
lank, pale brown hair trimmed short. The body under the

cloak—which was
darker, almost black—was slim and androgynous. But the

face was too pretty for
a boy. The wide-eyed, full-lipped face would make a

Botticelli angel look like a
gargoyle. Even allowing for the dull crimson irises.


Her size was so insignificant that the reaction to her

appearance confused me.
Felix and Demetri relaxed immediately, stepping back

from their offensive
positions to blend again with the shadows of the

overhanging walls.


Edward dropped his arms and relaxed his position as

well—but in defeat.
"Jane," he sighed in recognition and resignation.
Alice folded her arms across her chest, her expression

impassive.
"Follow me," Jane spoke again, her childish voice a

monotone. She turned her


back on us and drifted silently into the dark.
Felix gestured for us to go first, smirking.
Alice walked after the little Jane at once. Edward

wrapped his arm around my


waist and pulled me along beside her. The alley angled

slightly downward as it
narrowed. I looked up at him with frantic questions in

my eyes, but he just shook
his head. Though I couldn't hear the others behind us,

I was sure they were there.


"Well, Alice," Edward said conversationally as we

walked. "I suppose I shouldn't


be surprised to see you here."
"It was my mistake," Alice answered in the same tone.

"It was my job to set it
right."


"What happened?" His voice was polite, as if he were

barely interested. I
imagined this was due to the listening ears behind us.



"It's a long story." Alice's eyes flickered toward me

and away. "In summary, she
did jump off a cliff, but she wasn't trying to kill

herself. Bella's all about the
extreme sports these days."


I flushed and turned my eyes straight ahead, looking

after the dark shadow that I
could no longer see. I could imagine what he was

hearing in Alice's thoughts
now. Near-drownings, stalking vampires, werewolf

friends…


"Hm," Edward said curtly, and the casual tone of his

voice was gone.
There was a loose curve to the alley, still slanting

downward, so I didn't see the


squared-off dead end coming until we reached the flat,

windowless, brick face.
The little one called Jane was nowhere to be seen.
Alice didn't hesitate, didn't break pace as she strode

toward the wall. Then, with


easy grace, she slid down an open hole in the street.
It looked like a drain, sunk into the lowest point of

the paving. I hadn't noticed it


until Alice disappeared, but the grate was halfway

pushed aside. The hole was
small, and black.
I balked.
"It's all right, Bella," Edward said in a low voice.

"Alice will catch you."
I eyed the hole doubtfully. I imagine he would have

gone first, if Demetri and


Felix hadn't been waiting, smug and silent, behind us.
I crouched down, swinging my legs into the narrow gap.
"Alice?" I whispered, voice trembling.
"I'm right here, Bella," she reassured me. Her voice

came from too far below to


make me feel better.
Edward took my wrists—his hands felt like stones in

winter—and lowered me
into the blackness.



"Ready?" he asked.
"Drop her," Alice called.
I closed my eyes so I couldn't see the darkness,

scrunching them together in


terror, clamping my mouth shut so I wouldn't scream.

Edward let me fall.


It was silent and short. The air whipped past me for

just half a second, and then,
with a huff as I exhaled, Alice's waiting arms caught

me.
I was going to have bruises; her arms were very hard.

She stood me upright.
It was dim, but not black at the bottom. The light from

the hole above provided a


faint glow, reflecting wetly from the stones under my

feet. The light vanished for
a second, and then Edward was a faint, white radiance

beside me. He put his arm
around me, holding me close to his side, and began to

tow me swiftly forward. I
wrapped both arms around his cold waist, and tripped

and stumbled my way
across the uneven stone surface. The sound of the heavy

grate sliding over the
drain hole behind us rang with metallic finality.


The dim light from the street was quickly lost in the

gloom. The sound of my
staggering footsteps echoed through the black space; it

sounded very wide, but I
couldn't be sure. There were no sounds other than my

frantic heartbeat and my
feet on the wet stones—except for once, when an

impatient sigh whispered from
behind me.


Edward held me tightly. He reached his free hand across

his body to hold my
face, too, his smooth thumb tracing across my lips. Now

and then, I felt his face
press into my hair. I realized that this was the only

reunion we would get, and I
clutched myself closer to him.


For now, it felt like he wanted me, and that was enough

to offset the horror of the
subterranean tunnel and the prowling vampires behind

us. It was probably no
more than guilt—the same guilt that compelled him to

come here to die when



he'd believed that it was his fault that I'd killed

myself. But I felt his lips press
silently against my forehead, and I didn't care what

the motivation was. At least I
could be with him again before I died. That was better

than a long life.


I wished I could ask him exactly what was going to

happen now. I wanted
desperately to know how we were going to die—as if that

would somehow make
it better, knowing in advance. But I couldn't speak,

even in a whisper, surrounded
as we were. The others could hear everything—my every

breath, my every
heartbeat.


The path beneath our feet continued to slant downward,

taking us deeper into the
ground, and it made me claustrophobic. Only Edward's

hand, soothing against my
face, kept me from screaming out loud.


I couldn't tell where the light was coming from, but it

slowly turned dark gray
instead of black. We were in a low, arched tunnel. Long

trails of ebony moisture
seeped down the gray stones, like they were bleeding

ink.


I was shaking, and I thought it was from fear. It

wasn't until my teeth started to
chatter together that I realized I was cold. My clothes

were still wet, and the
temperature underneath the city was wintry. As was

Edward's skin.


He realized this at the same time I did, and let go of

me, keeping only my hand.


"N-n-no," I chattered, throwing my arms around him. I

didn't care if I froze. Who
knew how long we had left?
His cold hand chafed against my arm, trying to warm me

with the friction.
We hurried through the tunnel, or it felt like hurrying

to me. My slow progress


irritated someone—I guessed Felix—and I heard him heave

a sigh now and then.
At the end of the tunnel was a grate—the iron bars were

rusting, but thick as my
arm. A small door made of thinner, interlaced bars was

standing open. Edward
ducked through and hurried on to a larger, brighter

stone room. The grille



slammed shut with a clang, followed by the snap of a

lock. I was too afraid to


look behind me.
On the other side of the long room was a low, heavy

wooden door. It was very
thick—as I could tell because it, too, stood open.


We stepped through the door, and I glanced around me in

surprise, relaxing
automatically. Beside me, Edward tensed, his jaw

clenched tight.



21 VERDICT


WE WERE IN A BRIGHTLY LIT, UNREMARKABLE HALLWAY. The

walls
were off-white, the floor carpeted in industrial gray.

Common rectangular
fluorescent lights were spaced evenly along the

ceiling. It was warmer here, for
which I was grateful. This hall seemed very benign

after the gloom of the
ghoulish stone sewers.

Edward didn't seem to agree with my assessment. He

glowered darkly down the
long hallway, toward the slight, black shrouded figure

at the end, standing by an
elevator.

He pulled me along, and Alice walked on my other side.

The heavy door creaked

shut behind us, and then there was the thud of a bolt

sliding home.
Jane waited by the elevator, one hand holding the doors

open for us. Her
expression was apathetic.

Once inside the elevator, the three vampires that

belonged to the Volturi relaxed
further. They threw back their cloaks, letting the

hoods fall back on their
shoulders. Felix and Demetri were both of a slightly

olive complexion—it looked
odd combined with their chalky pallor. Felix's black

hair was cropped short, but
Demetri's waved to his shoulders. Their irises were

deep crimson around the
edges, darkening until they were black around the

pupil. Under the shrouds, their
clothes were modern, pale, and nondescript. I cowered

in the corner, cringing
against Edward. His hand still rubbed against my arm.

He never took his eyes off


Jane.
The elevator ride was short; we stepped out into what

looked like a posh office
reception area. The walls were paneled in wood, the

floors carpeted in thick, deep
green. There were no windows, but large, brightly lit

paintings of the Tuscan
countryside hung everywhere as replacements. Pale

leather couches were


arranged in cozy groupings, and the glossy tables held

crystal vases full of
vibrantly colored bouquets. The flowers' smell reminded

me of a funeral home.
In the middle of the room was a high, polished mahogany

counter. I gawked in


astonishment at the woman behind it.
She was tall, with dark skin and green eyes. She would

have been very pretty in
any other company—but not here. Because she was every

bit as human as I was. I


couldn't comprehend what this human woman was doing

here, totally at ease,
surrounded by vampnes.
She smiled politely in welcome. "Good afternoon, Jane,"

she said. There was no


surprise in her face as she glanced at Jane's company.

Not Edward, his bare chest
glinting dimly in the white lights, or even me,

disheveled and comparatively
hideous.


Jane nodded. "Gianna." She continued toward a set of

double doors in the back of
the room, and we followed.


As Felix passed the desk, he winked at Gianna, and she

giggled.
On the other side of the wooden doors was a different

kind of reception. The pale
boy in the pearl gray suit could have been Jane's twin.

His hair was darker, and
his lips were not as full, but he was just as lovely.

He came forward to meet us.
He smiled, reaching for her. "Jane."


"Alec," she responded, embracing the boy. They kissed

each other's cheeks on
both sides. Then he looked at us.



"They send you out for one and you come back with two…

and a half," he noted,
looking at me. "Nice work."
She laughed—the sound sparkled with delight like a

baby's cooing.


"Welcome back, Edward," Alec greeted him. "You seem in

a better mood."
"Marginally," Edward agreed in a flat voice. I glanced

at Edward's hard face, and
wondered how his mood could have been darker before.


Alec chuckled, and examined me as I clung to Edward's

side. "And this is the
cause of all the trouble?" he asked, skeptical.
Edward only smiled, his expression contemptuous. Then

he froze.


"Dibs," Felix called casually from behind.
Edward turned, a low snarl building deep in his chest.

Felix smiled—his hand
was raised, palm up; he curled his fingers twice,

inviting Edward forward.


Alice touched Edward's arm. "Patience," she cautioned

him.
They exchanged a long glance, and I wished I could hear

what she was telling


him. I figured that it was something to do with not

attacking Felix, because
Edward took a deep breath and turned back to Alec.
"Aro will be so pleased to see you again," Alec said,

as if nothing had passed.
"Let's not keep him waiting," Jane suggested.
Edward nodded once.
Alec and Jane, holding hands, led the way down yet

another wide, ornate hall—


would there ever be an end?
They ignored the doors at the end of the hall—doors

entirely sheathed in gold—


stopping halfway down the hall and sliding aside a

piece of the paneling to
expose a plain wooden door. It wasn't locked. Alec held

it open for Jane.
I wanted to groan when Edward pulled me through to the

other side of the door. It



was the same ancient stone as the square, the alley,

and the sewers. And it was


dark and cold again.
The stone antechamber was not large. It opened quickly

into a brighter,
cavernous room, perfectly round like a huge castle

turret… which was probably
exactly what it was.


Two stories up, long window slits threw thin rectangles

of bright sunlight onto
the stone floor below. There were no artificial lights.

The only furniture in the
room were several massive wooden chairs, like thrones,

that were spaced
unevenly, flush with the curving stone walls. In the

very center of the circle, in a
slight depression, was another drain. I wondered if

they used it as an exit, like the
hole in the street.


The room was not empty. A handful of people were

convened in seemingly
relaxed conversation. The murmur of low, smooth voices

was a gentle hum in the
air. As I watched, a pair of pale women in summer

dresses paused in a patch of
light, and, like prisms, their skin threw the light in

rainbow sparkles against the
sienna walls.


The exquisite faces all turned toward our party as we

entered the room. Most of
the immortals were dressed in inconspicuous pants and

shirts—things that
wouldn't stick out at all on the streets below. But the

man who spoke first wore
one of the long robes. It was pitch-black, and brushed

against the floor. For a
moment, I thought his long, jet-black hair was the hood

of his cloak.


"Jane, dear one, you've returned!" he cried in evident

delight. His voice was just a


soft sighing.
He drifted forward, and the movement flowed with such

surreal grace that I
gawked, my mouth hangmg open. Even Alice, whose every

motion looked like
dancing, could not compare.


I was only more astonished as he floated closer and I

could see his face. It was



not like the unnaturally attractive faces that

surrounded him (for he did not
approach us alone; the entire group converged around

him, some following, and
some walking ahead of him with the alert manner of

bodyguards). I couldn't
decide if his face was beautiful or not. I suppose the

features were perfect. But he
was as different from the vampires beside him as they

were from me. His skin
was translucently white, like onionskin, and it looked

just as delicate—it stood in
shocking contrast to the long black hair that framed

his face. I felt a strange,
horrifying urge to touch his cheek, to see if it was

softer than Edward's or Alice's,
or if it was powdery, like chalk. His eyes were red,

the same as the others around
him, but the color was clouded, milky; I wondered if

his vision was affected by
the haze.


He glided to Jane, took her face in his papery hands,

kissed her lightly on her full


lips, and then floated back a step.
"Yes, Master." Jane smiled; the expression made her

look like an angelic child. "I
brought him back alive, just as you wished."


"Ah, Jane." He smiled, too. "You are such a comfort to

me."
He turned his misty eyes toward us, and the smile

brightened—became ecstatic.
"And Alice and Bella, too!" he rejoiced, clapping his

thin hands together. "This is


a happy surprise! Wonderful!"


I stared in shock as he called our names informally, as

if we were old friends
dropping in for an unexpected visit.
He turned to our hulking escort. "Felix, be a dear and

tell my brothers about our


company. I'm sure they wouldn't want to miss this."
"Yes, Master." Felix nodded and disappeared back the

way we had come.
"You see, Edward?" The strange vampire turned and

smiled at Edward like a


fond but scolding grandfather. "What did I tell you?

Aren't you glad that I didn't



give you what you wanted yesterday?"
"Yes, Aro, I am," he agreed, tightening his arm around

my waist.
"I love a happy ending." Aro sighed. "They are so rare.

But I want the whole


story. How did this happen? Alice?" He turned to gaze

at Alice with curious,
misty eyes. "Your brother seemed to think you

infallible, but apparently there
was some mistake."


"Oh, I'm far from infallible." She flashed a dazzling

smile. She looked perfectly
at ease, except that her hands were balled into tight

little fists. "As you can see
today, I cause problems as often as I cure them."


"You're too modest," Aro chided. "I've seen some of

your more amazing exploits,
and I must admit I've never observed anything like your

talent. Wonderful!"


Alice flickered a glance at Edward. Aro did not miss

it.
"I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced properly at all,

have we? It's just that I feel
like I know you already, and I tend get ahead of

myself. Your brother introduced
us yesterday, in a peculiar way. You see, I share some

of your brother's talent,
only I am limited in a way that he is not." Aro shook

his head; his tone was
envious.


"And also exponentially more powerful," Edward added

dryly. He looked at
Alice as he swiftly explained. "Aro needs physical

contact to hear your thoughts,
but he hears much more than I do. You know I can only

hear what's passing
through your head in the moment. Aro hears every

thought your mind has ever
had."


Alice raised her delicate eyebrows, and Edward inclined

his head.
Aro didn't miss that either.
"But to be able to hear from a distance…" Aro sighed,

gesturing toward the two


of them, and the exchange that had just taken place.

"That would be so



convenient."

Aro looked over our shoulders. All the other heads

turned in the same direction,
including Jane, Alec, and Demetri, who stood silently

beside us.
I was the slowest to turn. Felix was back, and behind

him floated two more black-


robed men. Both looked very much like Aro, one even had

the same flowing
black hair. The other had a shock of snow-white

hair—the same shade as his face
—that brushed against his shoulders. Their faces had

identical, paper-thin skin.


The trio from Carlisle's painting was complete,

unchanged by the last three


hundred years since it was painted.
"Marcus, Caius, look!" Aro crooned. "Bella is alive

after all, and Alice is here
with her! Isn't that wonderful?"


Neither of the other two looked as if wonderful would

be their first choice of
words. The dark-haired man seemed utterly bored, like

he'd seen too many
millennia of Aro's enthusiasm. The other's hice was

sour under the snowy hair.


Their lack of interest did not curb Aro's enjoyment.
"Let us have the story," Aro almost sang in his

feathery voice.
The white-haired ancient vampire drifted away, gliding

toward one of the


wooden thrones. The other paused beside Aro, and he

reached his hand out, at
first I thought to take Aro's hand. But he just touched

Aro's palm briefly and then
dropped his hand to his side. Aro raised one black

brow. I wondered how his
papery skin did not crumple in the effort.


Edward snorted very quietly, and Alice looked at him,

curious.
"Thank you, Marcus," Aro said. "That's quite

interesting."
I realized, a second late, that Marcus was letting Aro

know his thoughts.
Marcus didn't look interested. He glided away from Aro

to join the one who must



be Caius, seated against the wall. Two of the attending

vampires followed silently
behind him—bodyguards, like I'd thought before. I could

see that the two women
in the sundresses had gone to stand beside Caius in the

same manner. The idea of
any vampire needing a guard was faintly ridiculous to

me, but maybe the ancient
ones were as frail as their skin suggested.


Aro was shaking his head. "Amazing,"' he said.

"Absolutely amazing."
Alice's expression was frustrated. Edward turned to her

and explained again in a


swift, low voice. "Marcus sees relationships. He's

surprised by the intensity of
ours."
Aro smiled. "So convenient," he repeated to himself.

Then he spoke to us. "It


takes quite a bit to surprise Marcus, I can assure

you."
I looked at Marcus's dead face, and I believed that.
"It's just so difficult to understand, even now," Aro

mused, staring at Edward's


arm wrapped around me. It was hard for me to follow

Aro's chaotic train of
thought. I struggled to keep up. "How can you stand so

close to het like that?"
"It's not without effort," Edward answered calmly.
"But still—la tua cantante! What a waste!"
Edward chuckled once without humor. "I look at it more

as a price."
Aro was skeptical. "A very high price."


"Opportunity cost."
Aro laughed. "If I hadn't smelled her through your

memories, I wouldn't have
believed the call of anyone's blood could be so strong.

I've never felt anything
like it myself. Most of us would trade much for such a

gift, and yet you…"


"Waste it," Edward finished, his voice sarcastic now.
Aro laughed again. "Ah, how I miss my friend Carlisle!

You remind me of him—



only he was not so angry."
"Carlisle outshines me in many other ways as well."
"I certainly never thought to see Carlisle bested for

self-control of all things, but


you put him to shame."
"Hardly." Edward sounded impatient. As if he were tired

of the preliminaries. It


made me more afraid; I couldn't help but try to imagine

what he expected would
follow.
"I am gratified by his success," Aro mused. "Your

memories of him are quite a


gift for me, though they astonish me exceedingly. I am

surprised by how it…
pleases me, his success in this unorthodox path he's

chosen. I expected that he
would waste, weaken with time. I'd scoffed at his plan

to find others who would
share his peculiar vision. Yet, somehow, I'm happy to

be wrong."


Edward didn't reply.
"But your restraint!" Aro sighed. "I did not know such

strength was possible. To


inure yourself against such a siren call, not just once

but again and again—if I
had not felt it myself, I would not have believed."
Edward gazed back at Aro's admiration with no

expression. I knew his face well


enough—time had not changed that—to guess at something

seething beneath the


surface. I fought to keep my breathing even.
"Just remembering how she appeals to you…" Aro

chuckled. "It makes me
thirsty."


Edward tensed.
"Don't be disturbed," Aro reassured him. "I mean her no

harm. But I am so


curious, about one thing in particular." He eyed me

with bright interest. "May I?"
he asked eagerly, lifting one hand.
"Ask her," Edward suggested in a flat voice.



"Of course, how rude of me!" Aro exclaimed. "Bella," he

addressed me directly
now. "I'm fascinated that you are the one exception to

Edward's impressive talent
—so very interesting that such a thing should occur!

And I was wondering, since
our talents are similar in many ways, if you would be

so kind as to allow me to try
—to see if you are an exception for me, as well?"


My eyes flashed up to Edward's face in terror. Despite

Aro's overt politeness, I
didn't believe I really had a choice. I was horrified

at the thought of allowing him
to touch me, and yet also perversely intrigued by the

chance to feel his strange
skin.


Edward nodded in encouragement—whether because he was

sure Aro would not
hurt me, or because there was no choice, I couldn't

tell.


I turned back to Aro and raised my hand slowly in front

of me. It was trembling.
He glided closer, and I believe he meant his expression

to be reassuring. But his
papery features were too strange, too alien and

frightening, to reassure. The look
on his face was more confident than his words had been.


Aro reached out, as if to shake my hand, and pressed

his insubstantial-looking
skin against mine. It was hard, but felt brittle—shale

rather than granite—and
even colder than I expected.


His filmy eyes smiled down at mine, and it was

impossible to look away. They


were mesmerizing in an odd, unpleasant way.
Aro's face altered as I watched. The confidence wavered

and became first doubt,
then incredulity before he calmed it into a friendly

mask.


"So very interesting," he said as he released my hand

and drifted back.


My eyes flickered to Edward, and, though his face was

composed, I thought he
seemed a little smug.
Aro continued to drift wnh a thoughtful expression. He

was quiet for a moment,



his eyes flickering between the three of us. Then,

abruptly, he shook his head.


"A first," he said to himself "I wonder if she is

immune to our other talents…
Jane, dear?"
"No!" Edward snarled the word. Alice grabbed his arm

with a restraining hand.


He shook her off.
Little Jane smiled up happily at Aro. "Yes, Master?"
Edward was truly snarling now, the sound ripping and

tearing from him, glaring


at Aro with baleful eyes. The room had gone still,

everyone watching him with
amazed disbelief, as if he were committing some

embarrassing social faux pas. I
saw Felix grin hopefully and move a step forward. Aro

glanced at him once, and
he froze in place, his grin turning to a sulky

expression.


Then he spoke to Jane. "I was wondering, my dear one,

if Bella is immune to


you."
I could barely hear Aro over Edward's furious growls.

He let go of me, moving to
hide me from their view. Caius ghosted in our

direction, with his entourage, to
watch.


Jane turned toward us with a beatific smile.
"Don't!" Alice cried as Edward launched himself at the

little girl.
Before I could react, before anyone could jump between

them, before Aro's


bodyguards could tense, Edward was on the ground.


No one had touched him, but he was on the stone floor

writhing in obvious
agony, while I stared in horror.
Jane was smiling only at him now, and it all clicked

together. What Alice had


said about formidable gifts, why everyone treated Jane

with such deference, and
why Edward had thrown himself in her path before she

could do that to me.



"Stop!" I shrieked, my voice echoing in the silence,

jumping forward to put
myself between them. But Alice threw her arms around me

in an unbreakable
grasp and ignored my struggles. No sound escaped

Edward's lips as he cringed
against the stones. It felt like my head would explode

from the pain of watching
this.


"Jane," Aro recalled her in a tranquil voice. She

looked up quickly, still smiling
with pleasure, her eyes questioning. As soon as Jane

looked away, Edward was
still.


Aro inclined his head toward me.
Jane turned her smile in my direction.
I didn't even meet her gaze. I watched Edward from the

prison of Alice's arms,


still struggling pointlessly.
"He's fine," Alice whispered in a tight voice. As she

spoke, he sat up, and then
sprang lightly to his feet. His eyes met mine, and they

were horror-struck. At first


I thought the horror was for what he had just suffered.

But then he looked quickly
at Jane, and back to me—and his face relaxed into

relief.
I looked at Jane, too, and she no longer smiled. She

glared at me, her jaw


clenched with the intensity of her focus. I shrank

back, waiting for the pain.
Nothing happened.
Edward was by my side again. He touched Alice's arm,

and she surrendered me


to him.
Aro started to laugh. "Ha, ha. ha," he chuckled. "This

is wonderful!"
Jane hissed in frustration, leaning forward like she

was preparing to spring.
"Don't be put out, dear one," Aro said in a comforting

tone, placing a powder-


light hand on her shoulder. "She confounds us all."
Jane's upper lip curled back ever her teeth as she

continued to glare at me.



"Ha, ha, ha," Aro chortled again. "You're very brave,

Edward, to endure in
silence. I asked Jane to do that to me once—just out of

curiosity." He shook his
head in admiration.


Edward glared, disgusted.
"So what do we do with you now?" Aro sighed.
Edward and Alice stiffened. This was the part they'd

been waiting for. I began to


tremble.
"I don't suppose there's any chance that you've changed

your mind?" Aro asked


Edward hopefully. "Your talent would be an excellent

addition to our little
company."
Edward hesitated. From the corner of my eye, I saw both

Felix and Jane grimace.
Edward seemed to weigh each word before he spoke it.

"I'd… rather… not."
"Alice?" Aro asked, still hopeful. "Would you perhaps

be interested in joining


with us?"
"No, thank you," Alice said.
"And you, Bella?" Aro raised his eyebrows.
Edward hissed, low in my ears. I stared at Aro blankly.

Was he joking? Or was he


really asking me if I wanted to stay for dinner?
It was the white-haired Caius who broke the silence.
"What?" he demanded of Aro; his voice, though no more

than a whisper, was flat.
"Caius, surely you see the potential," Aro chided him

affectionately. "I haven't


seen a prospective talent so promising since we found

Jane and Alec. Can you


imagine the possibilities when she is one of us?"
Caius looked away with a caustic expression. Jane's

eyes sparked with
indignation at the comparison.



Edward fumed beside me. I could hear a rumble in his

chest, building toward a


growl. I couldn't let his temper get him hurt.
"No, thank you," I spoke up in barely more than a

whisper, my voice breaking in
fright.


Aro sighed. "That's unfortunate. Such a waste."


Edward hissed. "Join or die, is that it? I suspected as

much when we were
brought to this room. So much for your laws."
The tone of his voice surprised me. He sounded irate,

but there was something


deliberate about his delivery—as if he'd chosen his

words with great care.


"Of course not." Aro blinked, astonished. "We were

already convened here,
Edward, awaiting Heidi's return. Not for you."
"Aro," Caius hissed. "The law claims them."
Edward glared at Caius. "How so?" he demanded. He must

have known what


Caius was thinking, but he seemed determined to make

him speak it aloud.


Caius pointed a skeletal finger at me. "She knows too

much. You have exposed
our secrets." His voice was papery thin, just like his

skin.
"There are a few humans in on your charade here, as

well," Edward reminded


him, and I thought of the pretty receptionist below.
Caius's face twisted into a new expression. Was it

supposed to be a smiled.
"Yes," he agreed. "But when they are no longer useful

to us, they will serve to


sustain us. That is not your plan for this one. If she

betrays our secrets, are you
prepared to destroy her? I think not," he scoffed.


"I wouldn't—," I began, still whispering. Caius

silenced me with an icy look.
"Nor do you intend to make her one of us," Caius

continued. "Therefore, she is a
vulnerability. Though it is true, for this, only her

life is forfeit. You may leave if



you wish."
Edward bared his teeth.
"That's what I thought," Caius said, with something

akin to pleasure. Felix leaned


forward, eager.


"Unless…" Aro interrupted. He looked unhappy with the

way the conversation


had gone. "Unless you do intend to give her

immortality?"


Edward pursed his lips, hesitating for a moment before

he answered. "And if I


do?"
Aro smiled, happy again. "Why, then you would be free

to go home and give my


regards to my friend Carlisle." His expression turned

more hesitant. "But I'm
afraid you would have to mean it."
Aro raised his hand in front of him.
Caius, who had begun to scowl furiously, relaxed.
Edward's lips tightened into a fierce line. He stared

into my eyes, and I stared


back.
"Mean it," I whispered. "Please."
Was it really such a loathsome idea? Would he rather

die than change me? I felt


like I'd been kicked in the stomach.
Edward stared down at me with a tortured expression.
And then Alice stepped away from us, forward toward

Aro. We turned to watch


her. Her hand was raised like his.
She didn't say anything, and Aro waved off his anxious

guard as they moved to


block her approach. Aro met her halfway, and took her

hand with an eager,


acquisitive glint in his eyes.


He bent his head over their touching hands, his eyes

closing as he concentrated.



Alice was motionless, her face blank. I heard Edward's

teeth snap together.
No one moved. Aro seemed frozen over Alice's hand. The

seconds passed and I
grew more and more stressed, wondering how much time

would pass before it


was too much time. Before it meant something was

wrong—more wrong than it
already was.
Another agonizing moment passed, and then Aro's voice

broke the silence.
"Ha, ha, ha," he laughed, his head still bent forward.

He looked up slowly, his


eyes bright with excitement. "That was fascinating!"
Alice smiled dryly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"To see the things you've seen—especially the ones that

haven't happened yet!"


He shook his head in wonder.
"But that will," she reminded him, voice calm.
"Yes, yes, it's quite determined. Certainly there's no

problem."
Caius looked bitterly disappointed—a feeling he seemed

to share with Felix and


Jane.
"Aro," Caius complained.
"Dear Caius," Aro smiled. "Do not fret. Think of the

possibilities! They do not


join us today, but we can always hope for the future.

Imagine the joy young Alice
alone would bring to our little household… Besides, I'm

so terribly curious to see
how Bella turns out!"


Aro seemed convinced. Did he not realize how subjective

Alice's visions were.'
That she could make up her mind to transform me today,

and then change it
tomorrow? A million tiny decisions, her decisions and

so many others', too—
Edward's—could alter her path, and with that, the

future.


And would it really matter that Alice was willing,

would it make any difference if
I did become a vampire, when the idea was so repulsive

to Edward? If death was,



to him, a better alternative than having me around

forever, an immortal
annoyance? Terrified as I was, I felt myself sinking

down into depression,
drowning in it…


"Then we are free to go now?" Edward asked in an even

voice.


"Yes, yes," Aro said pleasantly. "But please visit

again. It's been absolutely
enthralling!"
"And we will visit you as well," Caius promised, his

eyes suddenly half-closed


like the heavy-lidded gaze of a lizard. "To be sure

that you follow through on
your side. Were I you, I would not delay too long. We

do not offer second
chances."


Edward's jaw clenched tight, but he nodded once.


Caius smirked and drifted back to where Marcus still

sat, unmoving and
uninterested.
Felix groaned.
"Ah, Felix." Aro smiled, amused. "Heidi will be here at

any moment. Patience."
"Hmm." Edward's voice had a new edge to it. "In that

case, perhaps we'd better


leave sooner rather than later."


"Yes," Aro agreed. "That's a good idea. Accidents do

happen. Please wait below
until after dark, though, if you don't mind."
"Of course," Edward agreed, while I cringed at the

thought of waiting out the day


before we could escape.
"And here," Aro added, motioning to Felix with one

finger. Felix came forward at


once, and Aro unfastened the gray cloak the huge

vampire wore, pulling from his
shoulders. He tossed it to Edward. "Take this. You're a

little conspicuous."
Edward put the long cloak on, leaving the hood down.



Aro sighed. "It suits you."


Edward chuckled, but broke off suddenly, glancing over

his shoulder. "Thank
you, Aro. We'll wait below."
"Goodbye, young friends," Aro said, his eyes bright as

he stared in the same


direction.
"Let's go," Edward said, urgent now.
Demetri gestured that we should follow, and then set

off the way we'd come in,


the only exit by the look of things.


Edward pulled me swiftly along beside him. Alice was

close by my other side,
her face hard.
"Not fast enough," she muttered.
I stared up at her, frightened, but she only seemed

chagrined. It was then that I


first heard the babble of voices—loud, rough

voices—coming from the
antechamber.
"Well this is unusual," a man's coarse voice boomed.


"So medieval," an unpleasantly shrill, female voice

gushed back.
A large crowd was coming through the little door,

filling the smaller stone
chamber. Demetri motioned for us to make room. We

pressed back against the
cold wall to let them pass.


The couple in front, Americans from the sound of them,

glanced around


themselves with appraising eyes.
"Welcome, guests! Welcome to Volterra!" I could hear

Aro sing from the big
turret room.


The rest of them, maybe forty or more, filed in after

the couple. Some studied the
setting like tourists. A few even snapped pictures.

Others looked confused, as if



the story that had led them to this room was not making

sense anymore. I noticed
one small, dark woman in particular. Around her neck

was a rosary, and she
gripped the cross tightly in one hand. She walked more

slowly than the others,
touching someone now and then and asking a question in

an unfamiliar language.
No one seemed to understand her, and her voice grew

more panicked.


Edward pulled my face against his chest, but it was too

late. I already understood.
As soon as the smallest break appeared, Edward pushed

me quickly toward the


door. I could feel the horrified expression on my face,

and the tears beginning to
pool in my eyes.
The ornate golden hallway was quiet, empty except for

one gorgeous, statuesque


woman. She stared at us curiously, me in particular.
"Welcome home, Heidi," Demetri greeted her from behind

us.
Heidi smiled absently. She reminded me of Rosalie,

though they looked nothing


alike—it was just that her beauty, too, was

exceptional, unforgettable. I couldn't


seem to look away.
She was dressed to emphasize that beauty. Her amazingly

long legs, darkened
with tights, were exposed by the shortest of

miniskirts. Her top was long-sleeved
and high-necked, but extremely close-fitting, and

constructed of red vinyl. Her
long mahogany hair was lustrous, and her eyes were the

strangest shade of violet
—a color that might result from blue-tinted contacts

over red irises.


"Demetri," she responded in a silky voice, her eyes

flickering between my face


and Edward's gray cloak.
"Nice fishing," Demetri complimented her, and I

suddenly understood the
attention-grabbing outfit she wore… she was not only

the fisherman, but also the
bait.


"Thanks." She flashed a stunning smile. "Aren't you

coming?"



"In a minute. Save a few for me."
Heidi nodded and ducked through the door with one last

curious look at me.
Edward set a pace that had me running to keep up. But

we still couldn't get


through the ornate door at the end of the hallway

before the screaming started.



22 FLIGHT


DEMETRI LEFT US IN THE CHEERFULLY OPULENT RECEPTION

area,
where the woman Gianna was still at her post behind the

polished counter.
Bright, harmless music tinkled from hidden speakers.


"Do not leave until dark," he warned us.
Edward nodded, and Demetri hurried away.
Gianna did not seem at all surprised by the exchange,

though she did eye


Edward's borrowed cloak with shrewd speculation.
"Are you all right?" Edward asked under his breath, to

low for the human woman


to hear. His voice was rough—if velvet can be

rough—with anxiety. Still stressed
by our situation, I imagined.
"You'd better make her sit before she falls," Alice

said. "She's going to pieces."
It was only then that I realize I was shaking, shaking

hard, my entire frame


vibrating until my teeth chattered and the room around

me seemed to wobble and
blur in my eyes. For one wild second, I wondered if

this was how Jacob felt just
before exploding into a werewolf.


I heard a sound that didn't make sense, a strange,

ripping counterpart to the
otherwise cheery background music. Distracted by the

shaking, I couldn't tell
where it was coming from.


"Shh, Bella, shh," Edward said as he pulled me to the

sofa farthest away from the



curious human at the desk.
"I think she's having hysterics. Maybe you should slap

her," Alice suggested.
Edward threw a frantic glance at her.
Then I understood. Oh. The noise was me. The ripping

sound was the sobs


coming from my chest. That's what was shaking me.
"It's all right, you're safe, it's all right," he

chanted again and again. He pulled ne


onto his lap and tucked the thick wool cloak around me,

protecting me from his
cold skin.
I knew it was stupid to react like this. Who knew how

much time I had to look at


his race? He was saved, and I was saved, and he could

leave me as soon as we
were free. To have my eyes so filled with tears that I

could not see his features
clearly was wasteful—insanity.


But, behind my eyes where the tears could not wash the

image away, I could still
see the panicked face of the tiny woman with the

rosary.
"All those people," I sobbed.
"I know," he whispered.
"It's so horrible."


"Yes, it is. I wish you hadn't had to see that."
I rested my head against his cold chest, using the

thick cloak to wipe my eyes. I
took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself.


"Is there anything I can get you?" a voice asked

politely. It was Gianna, leaning
over Edward's shoulder with a look that was both

concerned and yet still
professional and detached at the same time. It didn't

seem to bother her that her
face was inches from a hostile vampire. She was either

totally oblivious, or very
good at her job.



"No," Edward answered coldly.
She nodded, smiled at me, and then disappeared.
I waited until she was out of hearing range. "Does she

know what's going on


here?" I demanded, my voice low and hoarse. I was

getting control of myself, my
breathing evening out.
"Yes. She knows everything," Edward told me.
"Does she know they're going to kill her someday?"
"She's knows it's a possibility," he said.
That surprised me.
Edward's face was hard to read. "She's hoping they'll

decide to keep her."
I felt the blood leave my face. "She wants to be one of

them?"


He nodded once, his eyes sharp on my face, watching my

reaction.
I shuddered. "How can she want that?" I whispered, more

to myself than really
looking for an answer. "How can she watch those people

file through to that
hideous room and want to be a part of that?"


Edward didn't answer. His expression twisted in

response to something I'd said.
As I stared at his too beautiful face, trying to

understand the change, it suddenly


struck me that I was really here, in Edward's arms,

however fleetingly, and that
we were not—at this exact moment—about to be killed.
"Oh, Edward," I cried, and I was sobbing again. It was

such a stupid reaction. The


tears were too thick for me to see his face again, and

that was inexcusable. I only
had until sunset for sure. Like a fairy tale again,

with deadlines that ended the
magic.


"What's wrong?" he asked, still anxious, rubbing my

back with gentle pats.
I wrapped my arms around his neck—what was the worst he

could do? Just push



me away—and hugged myself closer to him. "Is it really

sick for me to be happy


right now?" I asked. My voice broke twice.
He didn't push me away. He pulled me tight against his

ice-hard chest, so tight it
was hard to breathe, even with my lungs securely

intact. "I know exactly what
you mean," he whispered. "But we have lots of reasons

to be happy. For one,
we're alive."


"Yes," I agreed. "That's a good one."
"And together," he breathed. His breath was so sweet it

made my head swim.
I just nodded, sure that he did not place the same

weight on that consideration as I


did.
"And, with any luck, we'll still be alive tomorrow."
"Hopefully," I said uneasily.
"The outlook is quite good," Alice assured me. She'd

been so quiet, I'd almost


forgotten her presence. "I'll see Jasper in less than

twenty-four hours," she added
in a satisfied tone.


Lucky Alice. She could trust her future.
I couldn't keep my eyes off of Edward's face for long.

I stared at him, wishing
more than anything that the future would never happen.

That this moment would
last forever, or, if it couldn't, that I would stop

existing when it did.


Edward stared right back at me, his dark eyes soft, and

it was easy to pretend that
he felt the same way. So that's what I did. I

pretended, to make the moment
sweeter.


His fingertips traced the circles under my eyes. "You

look so tired."
"And you look thirsty," I whispered back, studying the

purple bruises under his
black irises.



He shrugged. "It's nothing."


"Are you sure? I could sit with Alice," I offered,

unwilling; I'd rather he killed me
now than move one inch from where I was.
"Don't be ridiculous." He sighed; his sweet breath

caressed my face. "I've never


been in better control of that side of my nature than

right now."
I had a million questions for him. One of them bubbled

to my lips now, but I held


my tongue. I didn't want to ruin the moment, as

imperfect as it was, here in this
room that made me sick, under the eyes of the would-be

monster.
Here in his arms, it was so easy to fantasize that he

wanted me. I didn't want to


think about his motivations now—about whether he acted

this way to keep me
calm while we were still in danger, or if he just felt

guilty for where we were and
relieved that he wasn't responsible for my death. Maybe

the time apart had been
enough that I didn't bore him for the moment. But it

didn't matter. I was so much
happier pretending.


I lay quiet in his arms, re-memorizing his face,

pretending…
He stared at my face like he was doing the same, while

he and Alice discussed
how to get home. Their voices were so quick and low

that I knew Gianna couldn't
understand. I missed half of it myself. It sounded like

more theft would be


involved, though. I wondered idly if the yellow Porsche

had made it back to its
owner yet.
"What was all that talk about singers?" Alice asked at

one point.
"La tua cantante," Edward said. His voice made the

words into music.
"Yes, that," Alice said, and I concentrated for a

moment. I'd wondered about that,


too, at the time.
I felt Edward shrug around me. "They have a name for

someone who smells the
way Bella does to me. They call her my singer—because

her blood sings for me."



Alice laughed.
I was tired enough to sleep, but I fought against the

weariness. I wasn't going to
miss a second of the time I had with him. Now and then,

as he talked with Alice,
he would lean down suddenly and kiss me—his

glass-smooth lips brushing
against my hair, my forehead, the tip of my nose. Each

time it was like an electric


shock to my long dormant heart. The sound of its

beating seemed to fill the entire
room.
It was heaven—right smack in the middle of hell.
I lost track of the time completely. So when Edward's

arms tightened around me,


and both he and Alice looked to the back of the room

with wary eyes, I panicked.
I cringed into Edward's chest as Alec—his eyes now a

vivid ruby, but still
spotless in his light gray suit despite the afternoon

meal—walked through the
double doors.


It was good news.


"You're free to leave now," Alec told us, his tone so

warm you'd think we were
all lifelong friends. "We ask that you don't linger in

the city."
Edward made no answering pretence; his voice was ice

cold. "That won't be a


problem."
Alec smiled, nodded, and disappeared again.
"Follow the right hallway around the corner to the

first set of elevators," Gianna


told us as Edward helped me to my feet. "The lobby is

two floors down, and exits
to the street. Goodbye, now," she added pleasantly. I

wondered if her competence
would be enough to save her.


Alice shot her a dark look.
I was relieved there was another way out; I wasn't sure

if I could handle another
tour through the underground.



We left through a tastefully luxurious lobby. I was the

only one who glanced
back at the medieval castle that housed the elaborate

business facade I couldn't
see the turret from here, for which I was grateful.


The party was still in full swing in the streets. The

street lamps were just coming
on as we walked swiftly through the narrow, cobbled

lanes. The sky was a dull,
fading gray overhead, but the buildings crowded the

streets so closely that it felt
darker.


The party was darker, too. Edward's long, trailing

cloak did not stand out in the
way it might have on a normal evening in Volterra.

There were others in black
satin cloaks now, and the plastic fangs I'd seen on the

child in the square today
seemed to be very popular with the adults.


"Ridiculous," Edward muttered once.


I didn't notice when Alice disappeared from beside me.

I looked over to ask her a
question, and she was gone.
"Where's Alice?" I whispered in a panic.
"She went to retrieve your bags from where she stashed

them this morning."
I'd forgotten that I had access to a toothbrush. It

brightened my outlook


considerably.
"She's stealing a car, too, isn't she?" I guessed.
He grinned. "Not till we're outside."
It seemed like a very long way to the entryway. Edward

could see that I was


spent; he wound his arm around my waist and supported

most of my weight as


we walked.
I shuddered as he pulled me through the dark stone

archway. The huge, ancient
portcullis above was like a cage door, threatening to

drop on us, to lock us in.



He led me toward a dark car, waiting in a pool of

shadow to the right of the gate
with the engine running. To my surprise, he slid into

the backseat with me,
instead of insisting on driving.


Alice was apologetic. "I'm sorry." She gestured vaguely

toward the dashboard.
"There wasn't much to choose from."
"It's fine, Alice." He grinned. "They can't all be 911

Turbos."
She sighed. "I may have to acquire one of those

legally. It was fabulous."


"I'll get you one for Christmas," Edward promised.
Alice turned to beam at him, which worried me, as she

was already speeding
down the dark and curvy hillside at the same time.


"Yellow," she told him.


Edward kept me tight in his arms. Inside the gray

cloak, I was warm and
comfortable. More than comfortable.
"You can sleep now, Bella," he murmured. "It's over."
I knew he meant the danger, the nightmare in the

ancient city, but I still had to


swallow hard before I could answer.
"I don't want to sleep. I'm not tired." Just the second

part was a lie. I wasn't about


to close my eyes. The car was only dimly lit by the

dashboard controls, but it was
enough that I could see his face.
He pressed his lips to the hollow under my ear. "Try,"

he encouraged.
I shook my head.
He sighed. "You're still just as stubborn."
I was stubborn; I fought with my heavy lids, and I won.
The dark road was the hardest part; the bright lights

at the airport in Florence


made it easier, as did the chance to brush my teeth and

change into clean clothes;



Alice bought Edward new clothes, too, and he left the

dark cloak on a pile of
trash in an alley. The plane trip to Rome was so short

that there wasn't really a
chance for the fatigue to drag me under. I knew the

flight from Rome to Atlanta
would be another matter entirely, so I asked the flight

attendant if she could bring
me a Coke.


"Bella," Edward said disapprovingly. He knew my low

tolerance for caffeine.
Alice was behind us. I could hear her murmuring to

Jasper on the phone.
"I don't want to sleep," I reminded him. I gave him an

excuse that was believable


because it was true. "If I close my eyes now, I'll see

things I don't want to see. I'll
have nightmares."


He didn't argue with me after that.
It would have been a very good time to talk, to get the

answers I needed—needed
but not really wanted; I was already despairing at the

thought of what I might
hear. We had an uninterrupted block of tirre ahead of

us, and he couldn't escape
me on an airplane—well, not easily, at least. No one

would hear us except Alice;
it was late, and most of the passengers were turning

off lights and asking for
pillows in muted voices. Talk would help me fight off

the exhaustion.


But, perversely, I bit my tongue against the flood of

questions. My reasoning was
probably flawed by exhaustion, but I hoped that by

postponing the discussion, I
could buy a few more hours with him at some later

time—spin this out for
another night, Scheherazade-style.


So I kept drinking soda, and resisting even the urge to

blink. Edward seemed
perfectly content to hold me in his arms, his fingers

tracing my face again and
again. I touched his face, too. I couldn't stop myself,

though I was afraid it would
hurt me later, when I was alone again. He continued to

kiss my hair, my forehead,
my wrists… but never my lips, and that was good. After

all, how many ways can
one heart be mangled and still be expected to keep

beating? I'd lived through a lot



that should have finished me in the last few days, but

it didn't make me feel


strong. Instead, I felt horribly fragile, like one word

could shatter me.
Edward didn't speak. Maybe he was hoping I would sleep.

Maybe he had nothing
to say.


I won the fight against my heavy lids. I was awake when

we reached the airport
in Atlanta, and I even watched the sun beginning to

rise over Seattle's cloud cover
before Edward slid the window shut. I was proud of

myself. I hadn't missed one
minute.


Neither Alice nor Edward was surprised by the reception

that waited for us at Sea-
Tac airport, but it caught me off guard. Jasper was the

first one I saw—he didn't
seem to see me at all. His eyes were only for Alice.

She went quickly to his side;
they didn't embrace like other couples meeting there.

They only stared into each
other's faces, yet, somehow, the moment was so private

that I still felt the need to
look away.


Carlisle and Esme waited in a quiet corner far from the

line for the metal
detectors, in the shadow of a wide pillar. Esme reached

for me, hugging me
fiercely, yet awkwardly, because Edward kept his arms

around me, too.


"Thank you so much," she said in my ear.


Then she threw her arms around Edward, and she looked

like she would be
crying if that were possible.
"You will never put me through :hat again," she nearly

growled.
Edward grinned, repentant. "Sorry, Mom."
"Thank you, Bella," Carlisle said. "We owe you."
"Hardly," I mumbled. The sleepless night was suddenly

overpowering. My head


felt disconnected from my body.



"She's dead on her feet," Esme scolded Edward. "Let's

get her home."
Not sure if home was what I wanted at this point, I

stumbled, half-blind, through


the airport, Edward dragging me on one side and Esme on

the other. I didn't know
if Alice and Jasper were behind us or not, and I was

too exhausted to look.
I think I was mostly asleep, though I was still

walking, when we reached their


car. The surprise of seeing Emmett and Rosalie leaning

against the black sedan
under the dim lights of the parking garage revived me

some. Edward stiffened.
"Don't," Esme whispered. "She feels awful."
"She should," Edward said, making no attempt to keep

his voice down.
"It's not her fault," I said, my words garbled with

exhaustion.
"Let her make amends," Esme pleaded. "We'll ride with

Alice and Jasper."


Edward glowered at the absurdly lovely blond vampire

waiting for us.
"Please, Edward," I said. I didn't want to ride with

Rosalie any more than he
seemed to, but I'd caused more than enough discord in

his family.


He sighed, and towed me toward the car.
Emmett and Rosalie got in the front seat without

speaking, while Edward pulled
me in the back again. I knew I wasn't going to be able

to fight my eyelids


anymore, and I laid my head against his chest in

defeat, letting them close. I felt
the car purr to life.
"Edward," Rosalie began.
"I know." Edward's brusque tone was not generous.
"Bella?" Rosalie asked softly.
My eyelids fluttered open in shock. It was the first

time she'd ever spoken directly


to me.
"Yes, Rosalie?" I asked, hesitant.



"I'm so very sorry, Bella. I feel wretched about every

part of this, and so grateful
that you were brave enough to go save my brother after

what I did. Please say
you'll forgive me."


The words were awkward, stilted because of her

embarrassment, but they seemed


sincere.
"Of course, Rosalie," I mumbled, grasping at any chance

to make her hate me a
little less. "It's not your fault at all. I'm the one

who jumped off the damn cliff. Of
course I forgive you."


The words came out like mush.
"It doesn't count until she's conscious, Rose," Emmett

chuckled.
"I'm conscious," I said; it just sounded like a garbled

sigh.
"Let her sleep," Edward insisted, but his voice was a

little warmer.
It was quiet then, except for the gentle thrum of the

engine. I must have fallen


asleep, because it seemed like seconds later when the

door opened and Edward
was carrying me from the car. My eyes wouldn't open. At

first I thought we were
still at the airport.


And then I heard Charlie.
"Bella!" he shouted from some distance.
"Charlie," I mumbled, trying to shake off the stupor.
"Shh," Edward whispered. "It's okay; you're home and

safe. Just sleep."
"I can't believe you have the nerve to show your face

here." Charlie bellowed at


Edward, his voice much closer now.
"Stop it, Dad," I groaned. He didn't hear me.
"What's wrong with her?" Charlie demanded.
"She's just very tired, Charlie," Edward assured him

quietly. "Please let her rest."



"Don't tell me what to do!" Charlie yelled. "Give her

to me. Get your hands off


her!"
Edward tried to pass me to Charlie, but I clung to him

with locked, tenacious
fingers. I could feel my dad yanking on my arm.


"Cut it out, Dad," I said with more volume. I managed

to drag my lids back to


stare at Charlie with bleary eyes. "Be mad at me."
We were in front of my house. The front door was

standing open. The cloud
cover overhead was too thick to guess at a time of day.


"You bet I will be," Charlie promised. "Get inside."

i'"Kay. Let me down," I


sighed.
Edward set me on my feet. I could see that I was

upright, but I couldn't feel my
legs. I trudged forward anyway, until the sidewalk

swirled up toward my face.
Edward's arms caught me before I hit the concrete.


"Just let me get her upstairs," Edward said. "Then I'll

leave."


"No," I cried, panicking. I hadn't got my answers yet.

He had to stay for at least
that much, didn't he?
"I won't be far," Edward promised, whispering so low in

my ear that Charlie


didn't have a hope of hearing.
I didn't hear Charlie answer, but Edward headed into

the house. My open eyes
only made it till the stairs. The last thing I felt was

Edward's cool hands prying
my fingers loose from his shirt.



23. THE TRUTH
I HAD THE SENSE THAT I'D BEEN ASLEEP FOR A VERY long

time—my
body was stiff, like I hadn't moved once through all

that time, either. My mind
was dazed and slow; strange, colorful dreams—dreams and

nightmares—swirled
dizzily around the inside of my head. They were so

vivid. The horrible and the
heavenly, all mixed together into a bizarre jumble.

There was sharp impatience
and fear, both part of that frustrating dream where

your feet can't move fast
enough… And there were plenty of monsters, red-eyed

fiends that were all the
more ghastly for their genteel civility. The dream was

still strong—I could even
remember the names. But the strongest, clearest part of

the dream was not the
horror. It was the angel that was most clear.


It was hard to let him go and wake up. This dream did

not want to be shoved
away into the vault of dreams I refused to revisit. I

struggled with it as my mind
became more alert, focusing on reality. I couldn't

remember what day of the week
it was, but I was sure Jacob or school or work or

something was waiting for me. I
inhaled deeply, wondering how to face another day.


Something cold touched my forehead with the softest

pressure.
I squeezed my eyes more tightly shut. I was still

dreaming, it seemed, and it felt


abnormally real. I was so close to waking… any second

now, and it would be
gone.
But I realized that it felt too real, too real to be

good for me. The stone arms I



imagined wrapped around me were far too substantial. If

I let this go any further,
I'd be sorry for it later. With a resigned sigh, I

wrenched back my eyelids to
dispel the illusion.


"Oh!" I gasped, and threw my fists over my eyes.
Well, clearly, I'd gone too far; it must have been a

mistake to let my imagination


get so out of hand. Okay, so "let" was the wrong word.

I'd forced it to get out of
hand—pretty much stalked my hallucinations—and now my

mind had snapped.
It took less than half a second for me to realize that,

as long as I was truly insane


now, I might as well enjoy the delusions while they

were pleasant.


I opened my eyes again—and Edward was still there, his

perfect face just inches
away from mine.
"Did I frighten you?" His low voice was anxious. This

was very good, as


delusions went. The face, the voice, the scent,

everything—it was so much better
than drowning. The beautiful figment of my imagination

watched my changing
expressions, with alarm. His irises were pitch-black,

with bruise-like shadows
under them. This surprised me; my hallucinatory Edwards

were usually better fed.


I blinked twice, desperately trying to remember the

last thing that I was sure was
real. Alice was part of my dream, and I wondered if she

had really come back at
all, or if that was just the preamble. I thought she'd

returned the day I'd nearly
drowned…


"Oh, crap" I croaked. My throat was thick with

sleeping.
"What's wrong, Bella?"
I frowned at him unhappily. His face was even more

anxious than before.
"I'm dead, right?" I moaned. "I did drown. Crap, crap,

crap! This is gonna kill


Charlie."
Edward frowned, too. "You're not dead."



"Then why am I not waking up?" I challenged, raising my

eyebrows.
"You are awake, Bella."
I shook my head. "Sure, sure. That's what you want me

to think. And then it will


be worse when I do wake up. If I wake up, which I

won't, because I'm dead. This
is awful. Poor Charlie. And Renee and Jake…" I trailed

off in horror at what I
had done.


"I can see where you might confuse me with a

nightmare." His short-lived smile
was grim. "But I can't imagine what you could have done

to wind up in hell. Did
you commit many murders while I was away?"


I grimaced. "Obviously not. If I was in hell, you

wouldn't be with me."
He sighed.
My head was getting clearer. My eyes flickered away

from his face—unwillingly


—for one second, to the dark, open window, and then

back to him. I started to
remember details… and I felt a faint, unfamiliar blush

warm the skin over my
cheekbones as I slowly realized that Edward was really,

truly here with me, and I
was wasting time being an idiot.


"Did all of that really happen, then?" It was almost

impossible to reassign my


dream as reality. I couldn't wrap my head around the

concept.
"That depends." Edward's smile was still hard. "If

you're referring to us nearly
being massacred in Italy, then, yes."


"How strange," I mused. "I really went to Italy. Did

you know I'd never been
farther east than Albuquerque?"


He rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should go back to sleep.

You're not coherent."
"I'm not tired anymore." It was all coming clear now.

"What time is it? How long
have I been sleeping?"



"It's just after one in the morning. So, about fourteen

hours."
I stretched as he spoke. I was so stiff.
"Charlie?" I asked.
Edward frowned. "Sleeping. You should probably know

that I'm breaking the


rules right now. Well, not technically, since he said I

was never to walk through
his door again, and I came in the window… But, still,

the intent was clear."
"Charlie banned you from the house?" I asked, disbelief

quickly melting into fury.


His eyes were sad. "Did you expect anything else?"
My eyes were mad. I was going to have a few words with

my father—perhaps it
would be a good time to remind him that I was over the

legal age of adulthood. It
didn't matter so much, of course, except in principle.

All too soon there would be
no reason for the prohibition. I turned my thoughts to

less painful avenues.


"What's the story?" I asked, genuinely curious, but

also trying desperately to keep
the conversation casual, to keep a firm grip on myself,

so I wouldn't scare him
away with the frantic, gnawing craving that was raging

inside me.


"What do you mean?"


"What am I telling Charlie? What's my excuse for

disappearing for… how long
was I gone, anyway?" I tried to count the hours in my

head.
"Just three days." His eyes tightened, but he smiled

more naturally this time.


"Actually, I was hoping you might have a good

explanation. I've got nothing."
I groaned. "Fabulous."
"Well, maybe Alice will come up with something," he

offered, trying to comfort


me.
And I was comforted. Who cared what I had to deal with

later? Every second that
he was here—so close, his flawless face glowing in the

dim light from the



numbers on my alarm clock—was precious and not to be

wasted.
"So," I began, picking the least important—though still

vitally interesting—
question to start with. I was safely delivered home,

and he might decide to leave
at any moment. I had to keep him talking. Besides, this

temporary heaven wasn't


entirely complete without the sound of his voice. "What

have you been doing, up
until three days ago?"
His face turned wary in an instant. "Nothing terribly

exciting."
"Of course not," I mumbled.
"Why are you making that face?"
"Well…" I pursed my lips, considering. "If you were,

after all, just a dream, that's


exactly the kind of thing you would say. My imagination

must be used up."


He sighed. "If I tell you, will you finally believe

that you're not having a
nightmare?"
"Nightmare!" I repeated scornfully. He waited for my

answer. "Maybe," I said


after a second of thought. "If you tell me."
"I was… hunting."
"Is that the best you can do?" I criticized. "That

definitely doesn't prove I'm


awake."
He hesitated, and then spoke slowly, choosing his words

with care. "I wasn't


hunting fot food… I was actually trying my hand at…

tracking. I'm not very good
at it."
"What were you tracking?" I asked, intrigued.
"Nothing of consequence." His words didn't match his

expression; he looked


upset, uncomfortable.
"I don't understand."



He hesitated; his face, shining with an odd green cast

from the light of the clock,

was torn.
"I—" He took a deep breath. "I owe you an apology. No,

of course I owe you
much, much more than that. But you have to know,"—the

words began to flow so
fast, the way I remembered he spoke sometimes when he

was agitated, that I
really had to concentrate to catch them all—"that I had

no idea. I didn't realize the
mess I was leaving behind. I thought it was safe for

you here. So safe. I had no
idea that Victoria,"—his lips curled back when he said

the name—"would come
back. I'll admit, when I saw her that one time, I was

paying much more attention
to James's thoughts. But I just didn't see that she had

this kind of response in her.
That she even had such a tie to him. I think I realize

why now—she was so sure
of him, the thought of him failing never occurred to

her. It was her
overconfidence that clouded her feelings about him—that

kept me from seeing
the depth of them, the bond there.

"Not that there's any excuse for what I left you to

face. When I heard what you
told Alice—what she saw herself—when I realized that

you had to put your life
in the hands of werewolves, immature, volatile, the

worst thing out there besides
Victoria herself—he shuddered and the gush of words

halted for a short second.
"Please know that I had no idea of any of this. I feel

sick, sick to my core, even
now, when I can see and feel you safe in my arms. I am

the most miserable
excuse for—"

"Stop," I interrupted him. He stared at me with

agonized eyes, and I tried to find
the right words—the words that would free him from this

imagined obligation
that caused him so much pain. They were very hard words

to say. I didn't know if
I could get them out without breaking down. But I had

to try to do it right. I didn't
want to be a source of guilt and anguish in his life.

He should be happy, no matter
what it cost me.


I'd really been hoping to put off this part of our last

conversation. It was going to


bring things to an end so much sooner.
Drawing on all my months of practice with trying to be

normal for Charlie, I kept
my face smooth.


"Edward," I said. His name burned my throat a little on

the way out. I could feel
the ghost of the hole, waiting to rip itself wide again

as soon as he disappeared. I
didn't quite see how I was going to survive it this

time. "This has to stop now.
You can't think about things that way. You can't let

this… this guilt… rule your
life. You can't take responsibility for the things that

happen to me here. None of it
is your fault, it's just part of how life is for me.

So, if I trip in front of a bus or
whatever it is next time, you have to realize that it's

not your job to take the
blame. You can't just go running off to Italy because

you feel bad that you didn't
save me. Even if I had jumped off that cliff to die,

that would have been my
choice, and not your fault. I know it's your… your

nature to shoulder the blame
for everything, but you really can't let that make you

go to such extremes! It's
very irresponsible—think of Esme and Carlisle and—"


I was on the edge of losing it. I stopped to take a

deep breath, hoping to calm


myself. I had to set him free. I had to make sure this

never happened again.
"Isabella Marie Swan," he whispered, the strangest

expression crossing his face.
He almost looked mad. "Do you believe that I asked the

Volturi to kill me
because I felt guilty?"


I could feel the blank incomprehension on my face.

"Didn't you?"
"Feel guilty? Intensely so. More than you can

comprehend."
"Then… what are you saying? I don't understand."
"Bella, I went to the Volturi because I thought you

were dead," he said, voice


soft, eyes fierce. "Even if I'd had no hand in your

death"—he shuddered as he



whispered the last word—"even if it wasn't my fault, I

would have gone to Italy.
Obviously, I should have been more careful—I should

have spoken to Alice
directly, rather than accepting it secondhand from

Rosalie. But, really, what was I
supposed to think when the boy said Charlie was at the

funeral? What are the
odds?


"The odds…" he muttered then, distracted. His voice was

so low I wasn't sure I
beard it right. "The odds are always stacked against

us. Mistake after mistake. I'll
never criticize Romeo again."


"But I still don't understand," I said. "That's my

whole point. So what?"
"Excuse me?"
"So what if I was dead?"
He stared at me dubiously for a long moment before

answering. "Don't you


remember anything I told you before?"


"I remember everything that you told me." Including the

words that had negated
all the rest.
He brushed the tip of his cool finger against my lower

lip. "Bella, you seem to be


under a misapprehension." He closed his eyes, shaking

his head back and forth
with half a smile on his beautiful face. It wasn't a

happy smile. "I thought I'd
explained it clearly before. Bella, I can't live in a

world where you don't exist."


"I am…" My head swam as I looked for the appropriate

word. "Confused." That


worked. I couldn't make sense of what he was saying.
He stared deep into my eyes with his sincere, earnest

gaze. "I'm a good liar,
Bella, I have to be."


I froze, my muscles locking down as if for impact. The

fault line in my chest
rippled; the pain of it took my breath away.
He shook my shoulder, trying to loosen my rigid pose.

"Let me finish! I'm a good



liar, but still, for you to believe me so quickly." He

winced. "That was…
excruciating."
I waited, still frozen.


"When we were in the forest, when I was telling you

goodbye—"
I didn't allow myself to remember. I fought to keep

myself in the present second
only.


"You weren't going to let go," he whispered. "I could

see that. I didn't want to do
it—it felt like it would kill me to do it—but I knew

that if I couldn't convince you
that I didn't love you anymore, it would just take you

that much longer to get on
with your life. I hoped that, if you thought I'd moved

on, so would you."


"A clean break," I whispered through unmoving lips.
"Exactly. But I never imagined it would be so easy to

do! I thought it would be
next to impossible—that you would be so sure of the

truth that I would have to lie
through my teeth for hours to even plant the seed of

doubt in your head. I lied,
and I'm so sorry—sorry because I hurt you, sorry

because it was a worthless


effort. Sorry that I couldn't protect you from what I

an. I lied to save you, and it
didn't work. I'm sorry.
"But how could you believe me? After all the thousand

times I've told you I love


you, how could you let one word break your faith in

me?"
I didn't answer. I was too shocked to form a rational

response.
"I could see it in your eyes, that you honestly

believed that I didn't want you


anymore. The most absurd, ridiculous concept—as if

there were anu way that I


could exist without needing you!"
I was still frozen. His words were incomprehensible,

because they were
impossible.


He shook my shoulder again, not hard, but enough that

my teeth rattled a little.



"Bella," he sighed. "Really, what were you thinking!"


And so I started to cry. The tears welled up and then

gushed miserably down my
cheeks.
"I knew it," I sobbed. "I knew I was dreaming."
"You're impossible," he said, and he laughed once—a

hard laugh, frustrated.


"How can I put this so that you'll believe me? You're

not asleep, and you're not
dead. I'm here, and I love you. I have always loved

you, and I will always love
you. I was thinking of you, seeing your face in my

mind, every second that I was
away. When I told you that I didn't want you, it was

the very blackest kind of
blasphemy."


I shook my head while the tears continued to ooze from

the corners of my eyes.
"You don't believe me, do you?" he whispered, his face

paler than his usual pale


—I could see that even in the dim light. "Why can you

believe the lie, but not the
truth?"
"It never made sense for you to love me," I explained,

my voice breaking twice.


"I always knew that."
His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened.
"I'll prove you're awake," he promised.
He caught my face securely between his iron hands,

ignoring my struggles when


I tried to turn my head away.
"Please don't," I whispered.
He stopped, his lips just half an inch from mine.
"Why not?" he demanded. His breath blew into my face,

making my head whirl.
"When I wake up"—He opened his mouth to protest, so I

revised—"okay, forget


that one—when you leave again, it's going to be hard

enough without this, too."



He pulled back an inch, to stare at my face.
"Yesterday, when I would touch you, you were so…

hesitant, so careful, and yet
still the same. I need to know why. Is it because I'm

too late? Because I've hurt
you too much? Because you have moved on, as I meant for

you to? That would
be… quite fair. I won't contest your decision. So don't

try to spare my feelings,


please—just tell me now whether or not you can still

love me, after everything
I've done to you. Can you?" he whispered.
"What kind of an idiotic question is that?"
"Just answer it. Please."
I stared at him darkly for a long moment. "The way I

feel about you will never


change. Of course I love you—and there's nothing you

can do about it!"
"That's all I needed to hear."
His mouth was on mine then, and I couldn't fight him.

Not because he was so


many thousand times stronger than me, but because my

will crumbled into dust
the second our lips met. This kiss was not quite as

careful as others I
remembered, which suited me just fine. If I was going

to rip myself up further, I
might as well get as much in trade as possible.


So I kissed him back, my heart pounding out a jagged,

disjointed rhythm while
my breathing turned to panting and my fingers moved

greedily to his face. I could
feel his marble body against every line of mine, and I

was so glad he hadn't
listened to me—there was no pain in the world that

would have justified missing
this. His hands memorized my face, the same way mine

were tracing his, and, in
the brief seconds when his lips were free, he whispered

my name.


When I was starting to get dizzy, he pulled away, only

to lay his ear against my
heart.
I lay there, dazed, waiting for my gasping to slow and

quiet.



"By the way," he said in a casual tone. "I'm not

leaving you."
I didn't say anything, and he seemed to hear skepticism

in my silence.
He lifted his face to lock my gaze in his. "I'm not

going anywhere. Not without


you," he added more seriously.
"I only left you in the first place because I wanted

you to have a chance at a
normal, happy, human life. I could see what I was doing

to you—keeping you
constantly on the edge of danger, taking you away from

the world you belonged
in, risking your life every moment I was with you. So I

had to try. I had to do
something, and it seemed like leaving was the only way.

If I hadn't thought you
would be better off, I could have never made myself

leave. I'm much too selfish.
Only you could be more important than what I wanted…

what I needed. What I
want and need is to be with you, and I know I'll never

be strong enough to leave


again. I have too many excuses to stay—thank heaven for

that! It seems you can't
be safe, no matter how many miles I put between us."
"Don't promise me anything," I whispered. If I let

myself hope, and it came to


nothing… that would kill me. Where all those merciless

vampires had not been
able to finish me off, hope would do the job.


Anger glinted metallic in his black eyes. "You think

I'm lying to you now?"
"No—not lying." I shook my head, trying to think it

through coherently. To
examine the hypothesis that he did love me, while

staying objective, clinical, so I
wouldn't fall into the trap of hoping. "You could mean

it… now. But what about
tomorrow, when you think about all the reasons you left

in the first place? Or
next month, when Jasper takes a snap at me?"


He flinched.
I thought back over those last days of my life before

he left me, tried to see them
through the filter of what he was telling me now. From

that perspective,



imagining that he'd left me while loving me, left me

for me, his brooding and cold
silences took on a different meaning. "It isn't as if

you hadn't thought the first
decision through, is it?" I guessed. "You'll end up

doing what you think is right."


"I'm not as strong as you give me credit for," he said.

"Right and wrong have
ceased to mean much to me; I was coming back anyway.

Before Rosalie told me
the news, I was already past trying to live through one

week at a time, or even
one day. I was fighting to make it through a single

hour. It was only a matter of
time—and not much of it—before I showed up at your

window and begged you
to take me back. I'd be happy to beg now, if you'd like

that."


I grimaced. "Be serious, please."


"Oh, I am," he insisted, glaring now. "Will you please

try to hear what I'm telling
you? Will you let me attempt to explain what you mean

to me?"
He waited, studying my face as he spoke to make sure I

was really listening.
"Before you, Bella, my life was like a moonless night.

Very dark, but there were


stars—points of light and reason… And then you shot

across my sky like a
meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was

brilliancy, there was beauty.
When you were gone, when the meteor had fallen over the

horizon, everything
went black. Nothing had changed, but my eyes were

blinded by the light. I
couldn't see the stars anymore. And there was no more

reason for anything."


I wanted to believe him. But this was my life without

him that he was describing,
not the other way around.
"Your eyes will adjust," I mumbled.
"That's just the problem—they can't."


"What about your distractions?"
He laughed without a trace of humor. "Just part of the

lie, love. There was no
distraction from the… the agony. My heart hasn't beat

in almost ninety years, but



this was different. It was like my heart was gone—like

I was hollow. Like I'd left
everything that was inside me here with you."
"That's funny," I muttered.


He arched one perfect eyebrow. "Funny? "
"I meant strange—I thought it was just me. Lots of

pieces of me went missing,
too. I haven't been able to really breathe in so long."

I filled my lungs, luxuriating
in the sensation. "And my heart. That was definitely

lost."


He closed his eyes and laid his ear over my heart

again. I let my cheek press
against his hair, felt the texture of it on my skin,

smelled the delicious scent of
him.


"Tracking wasn't a distraction then?" I asked, curious,

and also needing to distract
myself. I was very much in danger of hoping. I wouldn't

be able to stop myself for
long. My heart throbbed, singing in my chest.


"No." He sighed. "That was never a distraction. It was

an obligation."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that, even though I never expected any danger

from Victoria, I wasn't


going to let her get away with… Well, like I said, I

was horrible at it. I traced her
as far as Texas, but then I followed a false lead down

to Brazil—and really she
came here." He groaned. "I wasn't even on the right

continent! And all the while,
worse than my worst fears—"


"You were hunting Victoria?" I half-shrieked as soon as

I could find my voice,
shooting through two octaves.


Charlie's distant snores stuttered, and then picked up

a regular rhythm again.
"Not well," Edward answered, studying my outraged

expression with a confused
look. "But I'll do better this time. She won't be

tainting perfectly good air by
breathing in and out for much longer."



"That is… out of the question," I managed to choke out.

Insanity. Even if he had
Emmett or Jasper help him. Even if he had Emmett and

Jasper help. It was worse
than my other imaginings: Jacob Black standing across a

small space from
Victoria's vicious and feline figure. I couldn't bear

to picture Edward there, even
though he was so much more durable than my half-human

best friend.


"It's too late for her. I might have let the other time

slide, but not now, not after—"
I interrupted him again, trying to sound calm. "Didn't

you just promise that you
weren't going to leave?" I asked, fighting the words as

I said them, nor letting


them plant themselves in my heart. "That isn't exactly

compatible with an
extended tracking expedition, is it?"
He frowned. A snarl began to build low in his chest. "I

will keep my promise,


Bella. But Victoria"—the snarl became more

pronounced—"is going to die.


Soon."
"Let's not be hasty," I said, trying to hide my panic.

"Maybe she's not coming
back. Jake's pack probably scared her off. There's

really no reason to go looking
for her. Besides, I've got bigger problems than

Victoria."


Edward's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "It's true. The

werewolves are a


problem."
I snorted. "I wasn't talking about Jacob. My problems

are a lot worse that a
handful of adolescent wolves getting themselves into

trouble."


Edward looked as if he were about to say something, and

then thought better of it.
His teeth clicked together, and he spoke through them.

"Really?" he asked. "Then
what would be your greatest problem? That would make

Victoria's returning for
you seem like such an inconsequential matter in

comparison?"


"How about the second greatest?" I hedged.
"All right," he agreed, suspicious.



I paused. I wasn't sure I could say the name. "There

are others who are coming to


look for me," I reminded him in a subdued whisper.
He sighed, but the reaction was not as strong as I

would have imagined after his
response to Victoria.


"The Volturi are only the second greatest?"
"You don't seem that upset about it," I noted.
"Well, we have plenty of time to think it through. Time

means something very


different to them than it does to you, or even me. They

count years the way you
count days. I wouldn't be surprised if you were thirty

before you crossed their
minds again," he added lightly.


Horror washed through me.
Thirty.
So his promises meant nothing, in the end. If I were

going to turn thirty someday,


then he couldn't be planning on staying long. The harsh

pain of this knowledge
made me realize that I'd already begun to hope, without

giving myself permission
to do 5.0.


"You don't have to be afraid," he said, anxious as he

watched the tears dew up
again on the rims of my eyes. "I won't let them hurt

you."


"While you're here." Not that I cared what happened to

me when he left.
He took my face between his two stone hands, holding it

tightly while his
midnight eyes glared into mine with the gravitational

force of a black hole. "I will
never leave you again."


"But you said thirty," I whispered. The tears leaked

over the edge. "What? You're
going to stay, but let me get all old anyway? Right."
His eyes softened, while his mouth went hard. "That's

exactly what I'm going to



do. What choice have I? I cannot be without you, but I

will not destroy your soul."
"Is this really…" I tried to keep my voice even, but

this question was too hard. I
remembered his face when Aro had almost begged him to

consider making me
immortal. The sick look there. Was this fixation with

keeping me human really


about my soul, or was it because he wasn't sure that he

wanted me around that
long?
"Yes?" he asked, waiting for my question.
I asked a different one. Almost—but not quite—as hard.
"But what about when I get so old that people think I'm

your mother? Your


grandmother?" My voice was pale with revulsion—I could

see Gran's face again


in the dream mirror.
His whole face was soft now. He brushed the tears from

my cheek with his lips.
"That doesn't mean anything to me," he breathed against

my skin. "You will
always be the most beautiful thing in my world. Of

course…" He hesitated,
flinching slightly. "If you outgrew me—if you wanted

something more—I would
understand that, Bella. I promise I wouldn't stand in

your way if you wanted to
leave me."


His eyes were liquid onyx and utterly sincere. He spoke

as if he'd put endless
amounts of thought into this asinine plan.
"You do realize that I'll die eventually, right?" I

demanded.
He'd thought about this part, too. "I'll follow after

as soon as I can."
"That is seriously…"I looked for the right word.

"Sick."


"Bella, it's the only right way left—"
"Let's just back up for a minute," I said; feeling

angry made it so much easier to
be clear, decisive. "You do remember the Volturi,

right? I can't stay human
forever. They'll kill me. Even if they don't think of

me till I'm thirty"—I hissed



the word—"do you really think they'll forget?"
"No," he answered slowly, shaking his head. "They won't

forget. But…"
"But?"
He grinned while I stared at him warily. Maybe I wasn't

the only crazy one.
"I have a few plans."
"And these plans," I said, my voice getting more acidic

with each word. "These


plans all center around me staying human."


My attitude hardened his expression. "Naturally." His

tone was brusque, his


divine face arrogant.


We glowered at each other for a long minute.


Then I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, I

pushed his arms away so that


I could sit up.


"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, and it made my

heart flutter to see that this


idea hurt him, though he tried not to show it.


"No," I told him. "I'm leaving."


He watched me suspiciously as I climbed out of the bed

and fumbled around in


the dark room, looking for my shoes.
"May I ask where you are going.'" he asked.
"I'm going to your house," I told him, still feeling

around blindly.
He got up and came to my side. "Here are your shoes.

How did you plan to get


there?"
"My truck."
"That will probably wake Charlie," he offered as a

deterrent.
I sighed. "I know. But honestly, I'll be grounded for

weeks as it is. How much



more trouble can I really get in?"
"None. He'll blame me, not you."
"If you have a better idea, I'm all ears."
"Stay here," he suggested, but his expression wasn't

hopeful.
"No dice. But you go ahead and make yourself at home,"

I encouraged, surprised


at how natural my teasing sounded, and headed for the

door.
He was there before me, blocking my way.
I frowned, and turned for the window. It wasn't really

that far to the ground, and


it was mostly grass beneath…
"Okay," he sighed. "I'll give you a ride."
I shrugged. "Either way. But you probably should be

there, too."
"And why is that?"
"Because you're extraordinarily opinionated, and I'm

sure you'll want a chance to


air your views."
"My views on which subject?" He asked through his

teeth.
"This isn't just about you anymore. You're not the

center of the universe, you


know." My own personal universe was, of course, a

different story. "If you're


going to bring the Volturi down on us over something as

stupid as leaving me


human, then your family ought to have a say."


"A say in what?" he asked, each word distinct.


"My mortality. I'm putting it to a vote."



24. VOTE
HE WAS NOT PLEASED, THAT MUCH WAS EASY TO READ in his

face.
But, without further argument, he took me in his arms

and sprang lithely from my
window, landing without the slightest jolt, like a cat.

It was a little bit farther
down than I'd imagined.


"All right then," he said, his voice seething with

disapproval. "Up you go."
He helped me onto his back, and took off running. Even

after all this time, it felt


routine. Easy. Evidently this was something you never

forgot, like riding a
bicycle.
It was so very quiet and dark as he ran through the

forest, his breathing slow and


even—dark enough that the trees flying past us were

nearly invisible, and only
the rush of air in my face truly gave away our speed.

The air was damp; it didn't
burn my eyes the way the wind in the big plaza had, and

that was comforting. As
was the night, too, after that terrifying brightness.

Like the thick quilt I'd played
under as a child, the dark felt familiar and

protecting.


I remembered that running through the forest like this

used to frighten me, that I
used to have to close my eyes. It seemed a silly

reaction to me now. I kept my
eyes wide, my chin resting on his shoulder, my cheek

against his neck. The speed
was exhilarating. A hundred times better than the

motorcycle.


I turned my face toward him and pressed my lips into

the cold stone skin of his
neck.



"Thank you," he said, as the vague, black shapes of

trees raced past us. "Does that


mean you've decided you're awake?"
I laughed. The sound was easy, natural, effortless. It

sounded right. "Not really.
More that, either way, I'm not trying to wake up. Not

tonight."


"I'll earn your trust back somehow," he murmured,

mostly to himself. "If it's my
final act."
"I trust you," I assured him. "It's me I don't trust."


"Explain that, please."
He'd slowed to a walk—I could only tell because the

wind ceased—and I guessed
that we weren't far from the house. In fact, I thought

I could make out the sound
of the river rushing somewhere close by in the

darkness.


"Well—" I struggled to find the right way to phrase it.

"I don't trust myself to


be… enough. To deserve you. There's nothing about me

that could hold you."
He stopped and reached around to pull me from his back.

His gentle hands did
not release me; after he'd set me on my feet again, he

wrapped his arms tightly
around me, hugging me to his chest.


"Your hold is permanent and unbreakable," he whispered.

"Never doubt that."
But how could I not?
"You never did tell me…" he murmured.
"What?"
"What your greatest problem is."
"I'll give you one guess." I sighed, and reached up to

touch the tip of his nose


with my index finger.
He nodded. "I'm worse than the Volturi," he said

grimly. "I guess I've earned
that."



I rolled my eyes. "The worst the Volturi can do is kill

me."
He waited with tense eyes.
"You can leave me," I explained. "The Volturi,

Victoria… they're nothing


compared to that."
Even in the darkness, I could see the anguish twist his

face—it reminded me of


his expression under Jane's torturing gaze; I felt

sick, and regretted speaking the
truth.
"Don't," I whispered, touching his face. "Don't be

sad."
He pulled one corner of his mouth up halfheartedly, but

the expression didn't


touch his eyes. "If there was only some way to make you

see that I can't leave
you," he whispered. "Time, I suppose, will be the way

to convince you."
I liked the idea of time. "Okay," I agreed.


His face was still tormented. I tried to distract him

with inconsequentials.
"So—since you're staying. Can I have my stuff back?" I

asked, making my tone
as light as I could manage.


My attempt worked, to an extent: he laughed. But his

eyes retained the misery.
"Your things were never gone," he told me. "I knew it

was wrong, since I
promised you peace without reminders. It was stupid and

childish, but I wanted to
leave something of myself with you. The CD, the

pictures, the tickets—they're all
under your floorboards."


"Really?"

He nodded, seeming slightly cheered by my obvious

pleasure in this trivial fact. It


wasn't enough to heal the pain in his face completely.
"I think," I said slowly, "I'm not sure, but I wonder…

I think maybe I knew it the
whole time."



"What did you know?"


I only wanted to take away the agony in his eyes, but

as I spoke the words, they
sounded truer than I expected they would.
"Some part of me, my subconscious maybe, never stopped

believing that you still


cared whether I lived or died. That's probably why I

was hearing the voices."
There was a very deep silence for a moment. "Voices?"

he asked flatly.
"Well, just one voice. Yours. It's a long story." The

wary look on his face made


me wish that I hadn't brought that up. Would he think I

was crazy, like everyone
else? Was everyone else right about that? But at least

that expression—the one
that made him look like something was burning

him—faded.


"I've got time." His voice was unnaturally even.
"It's pretty pathetic."
He waited.
I wasn't sure how to explain. "Do you remember what

Alice said about extreme


sports?"


He spoke the words without inflection or emphasis. "You

jumped off a cliff for
fun."
"Er, right. And before that, with the motorcycle—"
"Motorcycle?" he asked. I knew his voice well enough to

hear something brewing


behind the calm.
"I guess I didn't tell Alice about that part."
"No."
"Well, about that… See, I found that… when I was doing

something dangerous


or stupid… I could remember you more clearly," I

confessed, feeling completely
mental. "I could remember how your voice sounded when

you were angry. I



could hear it, like you were standing right there next

to me. Mostly I tried not to
think about you, but this didn't hurt so much—it was

like you were protecting me
again. Like you didn't want me to be hurt.


"And, well, I wonder if the reason I could hear you so

clearly was because,


underneath it all. I always knew that you hadn't

stopped loving me."
Again, as I spoke, the words brought with them a sense

of conviction. Of
rightness. Some deep place inside me recognized truth.


His words came out half-strangled. "You… were… risking

your life… to hear—"
"Shh," I interrupted him. "Hold on a second. I think

I'm having an epiphany here."
I thought of that night in Port Angeles when I'd had my

first delusion. I'd come


up with two options. Insanity or wish fulfillment. I'd

seen no third option.
But what if…
What if you sincerely believed something was true, but

you were dead wrong?


What if you were so stubbornly sure that you were

right, that you wouldn't even


consider the truth? Would the truth be silenced, or

would it try to break through?
Option three: Edward loved me. The bond forged between

us was not one that
could be broken by absence, distance, or time. And no

matter how much more
special or beautiful or brilliant or perfect than me he

might be, he was as
irreversibly altered as I was. As I would always belong

to him, so would he
always be mine.


Was that what I'd been trying to tell myself?
"Oh!"
"Bella?"
"Oh. Okay. I see."
"Your epiphany?" he asked, his voice uneven and

strained.



"You love me," I marveled. The sense of conviction and

Tightness washed


through me again.
Though his eyes were still anxious, the crooked smile I

loved best flashed across
his face. "Truly, I do."


My heart inflated like it was going to crack right

through my ribs. It filled my


chest and blocked my throat so that I could not speak.
He really did want me the way I wanted him—forever. It

was only fear for my
soul, for the human things he didn't want to take from

me, that made him so
desperate to leave me mortal. Compared to the fear that

he didn't want me, this
hurdle—my soul—seemed almost insignificant.


He took my face tightly between his cool hands and

kissed me until I was so
dizzy the forest was spinning. Then he leaned his

forehead against mine, and I
was not the only one breathing harder than usual.


"You were better at it than I was, you know," he told

me.
"Better at what?"
"Surviving. You, at least, made an effort. You got up

in the morning, tried to be


normal for Charlie, followed the pattern of your life.

When I wasn't actively
tracking, I was… totally useless. I couldn't be around

my family—I couldn't be
around anyone. I'm embarrassed to admit that I more or

less curled up into a ball
and let the misery have me." He grinned, sheepish. "It

was much more pathetic
than hearing voices. And, of course, you know I do

that, too."


I was deeply relieved that he really seemed to

understand—comforted that this all
made sense to him. At any rate, he wasn't looking at me

like I was crazy. He was
looking at me like… he loved me.


"I only heard one voice," I corrected him.
He laughed and then pulled me tight against his right

side and started to lead me



forward.
"I'm just humoring you with this." He motioned broadly

with his hand toward the


darkness in front of us as we walked. There was

something pale and immense
there—the house, I realized. "It doesn't matter in the

slightest what they say."
"This affects them now, too."
He shrugged indifferently.
He led me through the open front door into the dark

house and flipped the lights


on. The room was just as I'd remembered it—the piano

and the white couches and


the pale, massive staircase. No dust, no white sheets.
Edward called out the names with no more volume than

I'd use in regular
conversation. "Carlisle? Esme? Rosalie? Emmett? Jasper?

Alice?" They would
hear.


Carlisle was suddenly standing beside me, as if he'd

been there all along.
"Welcome back, Bella." He smiled. "What can we do for

you this morning? I
imagine, due to the hour, that this is not a purely

social visit?"


I nodded. "I'd like to talk to everyone at once, if

that's okay. About something


important."
I couldn't help glancing up at Edward's face as I

spoke. His expression was
critical, but resigned. When I looked back to Carlisle,

he was looking at Edward,
too.


"Of course," Carlisle said. "Why don't we talk in the

other room?"
Carlisle led the way through the bright living room,

around the corner to the
dining room, turning on lights as he went. The walls

were white, the ceilings
high, like the living room. In the center of the room,

under the low-hanging
chandelier, was a large, polished oval table surrounded

by eight chairs. Carlisle
held out a chair for me at the head.



I'd never seen the Cullens use the dining room table

before—it was just a prop.


They didn't eat in the house.
As soon as I turned to sit in the chair, I saw that we

were not alone. Esme had
followed Edward, and behind her the rest of the family

filed in.


Carlisle sat down on my right, and Edward on my left.

Everyone else took their
seats in silence. Alice was grinning at me, already in

on the plot. Emmett and
Jasper looked curious, and Rosalie smiled at me

tentatively. My answering smile
was just as timid. That was going to take some getting

used to.


Carlisle nodded toward me. "The floor is yours."


I swallowed. Their gazing eyes made me nervous. Edward

took my hand under
the table. I peeked at him, but he was watching the

others, his fate suddenly fierce.
"Well," I paused. "I'm hoping Alice has already told

you everything that


happened in Volterra?"
"Everything," Alice assured me.
I threw her a meaningful look. "And on the way?"
"That, too," she nodded.
"Good," I sighed with relief. "Then we're all on the

same page."
They waited patiently while I tried to order my

thoughts.
"So, I have a problem," I began. "Alice promised the

Volturi that I would become


one of you. They're going to send someone to check, and

I'm sure that's a bad


thing—something to avoid.
"And so, now, this involves you all. I'm sorry about

that." I looked at each one of
their beautiful faces, saving the most beautiful for

last. Edward's mouth was
turned down into a grimace. "But, if you don't want me,

then I'm not going to
force myself on you, whether Alice is willing or not."



Esme opened her mouth to speak, but I held up one

finger to stop her.
"Please, let me finish. You all know what I want. And

I'm sure you know what
Edward thinks, too. I think the only fair way to decide

is for everyone to have a


vote. If you decide you don't want me, then… I guess

I'll go back to Italy alone. I
can't have them coming here." My forehead creased as I

considered that.
There was the faint rumble of a growl in Edward's

chest. I ignored him.
"Taking into account, then, that I won't put any of you

in danger either way, I


want you to vote yes or no on the issue of me becoming

a vampire."
I half-smiled on the last word, and gestured toward

Carlisle to begin.
"Just a minute," Edward interrupted.
I glared at him through narrowed eyes. He raised his

eyebrows at me, squeezing


my hand.
"I have something to add before we vote."
I sighed.
"About the danger Bella's referring to," he continued.

"I don't think we need to be


overly anxious."


His expression became more animated. He put his free

hand on the shining table
and leaned forward.
"You see," he explained, looking around the table while

he spoke, "there was


more than one reason why I didn't want to shake Aro's

hand there at the end.
There's something they didn't think of, and I didn't

want to cine them in." He
grinned.


"Which was?" Alice prodded. I was sure my expression

was just as skeptical as
hers.
"The Volturi are overconfident, and with good reason.

When they decide to find



someone, it's not really a problem. Do you remember

Demetri?" He glanced
down at me.
I shuddered. He took that as a yes.


"He finds people—that's his talent, why they keep him.
"Now, the whole time we were with any of them, I was

picking their brains for
anything that might save us, getting as much

information as possible. So I saw
how Demetri's talent works. He's a tracker—a tracker a

thousand times more
gifted than Jarres was. His ability is loosely related

to what I do, or what Aro
does. He catches the… flavor? I don't know how to

describe it… the tenor… of
someone's mind, and then he follows that. It works over

immense distances.


"But after Aro's little experiments, well…" Edward

shrugged.
"You think he won't be able to find me," I said flatly.
He was smug. "I'm sure of it. He relies totally on that

other sense. When it doesn't


work with you, they'll all be blind."
"And how does that solve anything?"
"Quite obviously, Alice will be able to tell when

they're planning a visit, and I'll


hide you. They'll be helpless," he said with fierce

enjoyment. "It will be like
looking for a piece of straw in a haystack!"
He and Emmett exchanged a glance and a smirk.
This made no sense. "But they can find you," I reminded

him.
"And I can take care of myself."
Emmett laughed, and reached across the table toward his

brother, extending a fist.
"Excellent plan, my brother," he said with enthusiasm.
Edward stretched out his arm to smack Emmett's fist

with his own.
"No," Rosalie hissed.



"Absolutely not," I agreed.
"Nice." Jasper's voice was appreciative.
"Idiots," Alice muttered.
Esme just glared at Edward.
I straightened up in my chair, focusing. This was my

meeting.
"All right, then. Edward has offered an alternative for

you to consider," I said


coolly. "Let's vote."


I looked toward Edward this time; it would be better to

get his opinion out of the


way. "Do you want me to join your family?"


His eyes were hard and black as flint. "Not that way.

You're staying human."


I nodded once, keeping my face businesslike, and then

moved on.


"Alice?"


"Yes."


"Jasper?"


"Yes," he said, voice grave. I was a little surprised—I

hadn't been at all sure of


his vote—but I suppressed my reaction and moved on.
"Rosalie?"
She hesitated, biting down on her full, perfect bottom

lip. "No."
I kept my face blank and turned my head slightly to

move on, but she held up


both her hands, palms forward.
"Let me explain," she pleaded. "I don't mean that I

have any aversion to you as a


sister. It's just that… this is not the life I would

have chosen for myself. I wish


there had been someone there to vote no for me."


I nodded slowly, and then turned to Emmett.



"Hell, yes!" He grinned. "We can find some other way to

pick a fight with this
Demetri."
I was still grimacing at that when I looked at Esme.
"Yes, of course, Bella. I already think of you as part

of my family."


"Thank you, Esme," I murmured as I turned toward

Carlisle.
I was suddenly nervous, wishing I had asked for his

vote first. I was sure that this
was the vote that mattered most, the vote that counted

more than any majority.


Carlisle wasn't looking at me.
"Edward," he said.
"No," Edward growled. His jaw was strained tight, his

lips curled back from his


teeth.


"It's the only way that makes sense," Carlisle

insisted. "You've chosen not to live
without her, and that doesn't leave me a choice."
Edward dropped my hand, shoving away from the table. He

stalked out of the


room, snarling under his breath.
"I guess you know my vote." Carlisle sighed.
I was still staring after Edward. "Thanks," I mumbled.
An earsplitting crash echoed from the other room.
I flinched, and spoke quickly. "That's all I needed.

Thank you. For wanting to


keep me. I feel exactly the same way about all of you,

too." My voice was jagged
with emotion by the end.
Esme was at my side in a flash, her cold arms around

me.


"Dearest Bella," she breathed.
I hugged her back. Out of the corner of my eye, I

noticed Rosalie looking down
at the table, and I realized that my words could be

construed in two ways.



"Well, Alice," I said when Esme released me. "Where do

you want to do this?"
Alice stared at me, her eyes widening with terror.
"No! No! NO!" Edward roared, charging back into the

room. He was in my face


before I had time to blink, bending over me, his

expression twisted in rage. "Are
you insane?" he shouted. "Have you utterly lost your

mind?"


I cringed away, my hands over my ears.
"Um, Bella," Alice interjected in an anxious voice. "I

don't think I'm ready for
that. I'll need to prepare…"


"You promised," I reminded her, glaring under Edward's

arm.
"I know, but… Seriously, Bella! I don't have any idea

how to not kill you."
"You can do it," I encouraged. "I trust you."
Edward snarled in fury.
Alice shook her head quickly, looking panicked.
"Carlisle?" I turned to look at him.
Edward grabbed my face in his hand, forcing me to look

at him. His other hand


was out, palm toward Carlisle.


Carlisle ignored that. "I'm able to do it," he answered

my question. I wished I
could see his expression. "You would be in no danger of

me losing control."
"Sounds good." I hoped he could understand; it was hard

to talk clearly the way


Edward held my jaw.
"Hold on," Edward said between his teeth. "It doesn't

have to be now."
"There's no reason for it not to be now," I said, the

words coming out distorted.
"I can think of a few."
"Of course you can," I said sourly. "Now let go of me."



He freed my face, and folded his arms across his chest.

"In about two hours,
Charlie will be here looking for you. I wouldn't put it

past him to involve the
police."


"All three of them." But I frowned.
This was always the hardest part. Charlie, Renee. Now

Jacob, too. The people I


would lose, the people I would hurt. I wished there was

some way that I could be
the only one to suffer, but I knew that was impossible.
At the same time, I was hurting them more by staying

human. Putting Charlie in


constant danger through my proximity. Putting Jake in

worse danger still by
drawing his enemies across the land he felt bound to

protect. And Renee—I
couldn't even risk a visit to see my own mother for

fear of bringing my deadly
problems along with me!


I was a danger magnet; I'd accepted that about myself.


Accepting this, I knew I needed to be able to take care

of myself and protect the
ones I loved, even if that meant that I couldn't be

with them. I needed to be strong.
"In the interest of remaining inconspicuous," Edward

said, still talking through


his gritted teeth, but looking at Carlisle now, "I

suggest that we put this
conversation off, at the very least until Bella

finishes high school, and moves out
of Charlie's house."


"That's a reasonable request, Bella," Carlisle pointed

out.
I thought about Charlie's reaction when he woke up this

morning, if—after all
that life had put him through in the last week with

Harry's loss, and then I had put
him through with my unexplained disappearance—he were

to find my bed empty.


Charlie deserved better than that. It was just a little

more time; graduation wasn't
so far away…
I pursed my lips. "I'll consider it."



Edward relaxed. His jaw unclenched.


"I should probably take you home," he said, more calm

now, but clearly in a
hurry to get me out of here. "Just in case Charlie

wakes up early."
I looked at Carlisle. "After graduation?"
"You have my word."
I took a deep breath, smiled, and turned back to

Edward. "Okay. You can take me


home."
Edward rushed me out of the house before Carlisle could

promise me anything


else. He took me out the back, so I didn't get to see

what was broken in the living
room.
It was a quiet trip home. I was feeling triumphant, and

a little smug. Scared stiff,


too, of course, but I tried not to think about that

part. It did me no good to worry
about the pain—the physical or the emotional—so I

wouldn't. Not until I
absolutely had to.


When we got to my house, Edward didn't pause. He dashed

up the wall and
through my window in half a second. Then he pulled my

arms frcm around his
neck and set me on the bed.


I thought I had a pretty good idea of what he was

thinking, but his expression
surprised me. Instead of furious, it was calculating.

He paced silently back and
forth across my dark room while I watched with growing

suspicion.


"Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work," I

told him.
"Shh. I'm thinking."
"Ugh," I groaned, throwing myself back on the bed and

pulling the quilt over my


head.
There was no sound, but suddenly he was there. He

flipped the cover back so he
could see me. He was lying next to me. His hand reached

up to brush my hair



from my cheek.


"If you don't mind, I'd much rather you didn't hide

your face. I've lived without it
for as long as I can stand. Now… tell me something."
"What?" I asked, unwilling.
"If you could have anything in the world, anything at

all, what would it be?"
I could feel the skepticism in my eyes. "You."
He shook his head impatiently. "Something you don't

already have."
I wasn't sure where he was trying to lead me, so I

thought carefully before I


answered. I came up with something that was both true,

and also probably
impossible.


"I would want… Carlisle not to have to do it. I would

want you to change me."
I watched his reaction warily, expecting more of the

fury I'd seen at his house. I
was surprised that his expression didn't change. It was

still calculating, thoughtful.


"What would you be willing to trade for that?"


I couldn't believe my ears. I gawked at his composed

face and blurted out the
answer before I could think about it.
"Anything."
He smiled faintly, and then pursed his lips. "Five

years?"
My face twisted into an expression somewhere between

chagrin and horror.
"You said anything," he reminded me.
"Yes, but… you'll use the time to find a way out of it.

I have to strike while the


iron is hot. Besides, it's just too dangerous to be

human—for me, at least. So,
anything but that."
He frowned. "Three years?"



"No!"
"Isn't it worth anyrhing to you at all? "
I thought about how much I wanted this. Better to keep

a poker face, I decided,


and not let him know how very much that was. It would

give me more leverage.
"Six months?"
He rolled his eyes. "Not good enough."
"One year, then," I said. "That's my limit."


"At least give me two."
"No way. Nineteen I'll do. But I'm not going anywhere

near twenty. If you're
staying in your teens forever, then so am I."


He thought for a minute. "All right. Forget time

limits. If you want me to be the
one—then you'll just have to meet one condition."
"Condition?" My voice went flat. "What condition?"
His eyes were cautious—he spoke slowly. "Marry me

first."


I stared at him, waiting… "Okay. What's the punch

line?"
He sighed. "You're wounding my ego, Bella. I just

proposed to you, and you
think it's a joke."


"Edward, please be serious."


"I am one hundred percent serious." He gazed at me with

no hint of humor in his
face.
"Oh, c'mon," I said, an edge of hysteria in my voice.

"I'm only eighteen."
"Well, I'm nearly a hundred and ten. It's time I

settled down."
I looked away, out the dark window, trying to control

the panic before it gave me


away.
"Look, marriage isn't exactly that high on my list of

priorities, you know? It was



sort of the kiss of death for Renee and Charlie."
"Interesting choice of words."
"You know what I mean."
He inhaled deeply. "Please don't tell me that you're

afraid of the commitment,"


his voice was disbelieving, and I understood what he

meant.


"That's not it exactly," I hedged. "I'm… afraid of

Renee. She has some really
intense opinions on getting married before you're

thirty."
"Because she'd rather you became one of the eternal

damned than get married."


He laughed darkly.
"You think you're joking."
"Bella, if you compare the level of commitment between

a marital union as


opposed to bartering your soul in exchange for an

eternity as a vampire…" He


shook his head. "If you're not brave enough to marry

me, then—"
"Well," I interrupted. "What if I did? What if I told

you to take me to Vegas now?
Would I be a vampire in three days?"


He smiled, his teeth flashing in the dark. "Sure," he

said, calling my bluff. "I'll get
my car."
"Dammit." I muttered. "I'll give you eighteen months."
"No deal," he said, grinning. "I like this condition."


"Fine. I'll have Carlisle do it when I graduate."
"If that's what you really want." He shrugged, and his

smile became absolutely
angelic.


"You're impossible," I groaned. "A monster."
He chuckled. "Is that why you won't marry me?"



I groaned again.

He leaned toward me; his night-dark eyes melted and

smoldered and shattered

my concentration. "Please, Bella?" he breathed.

I forgot how to breathe for a moment. When I recovered,

I shook my head


quickly, trying to clear my suddenly clouded mind.
"Would this have gone better if I d had time to get a

ring.'"
"No! No rings!" I very nearly snouted.
"Now you've done it," he whispered.
"Oops."
"Charlie's getting up; I'd better leave," Edward said

with resignation.
My heart stopped beating.
He gauged my expression for a second. "Would it be

childish of me to hide in


your closet, then?"
"No," I whispered eagerly. "Stay. Please."
Edward smiled and disappeared.
I seethed in the darkness as I waited for Charlie to

check on me. Edward knew


exactly what he was doing, and I was willing to bet

that all the injured surprise


was part of the ploy. Of course, I still had the

Carlisle option, but now that I knew


there was a chance that Edward would change me himself,

I wanted it bad. He


was such a cheater.


My door cracked open.


"Morning, Dad."


"Oh, hey, Bella." He sounded embarrassed at getting

caught. "I didn't know you


were awake."
"Yeah. I've just been waiting ior you to wake up so I

could take a shower." I



started to get up.


"Hold on," Charlie said, flipping the light on. I

blinked in the sudden brightness,
and carefully kept my eyes away from the closet. "Let's

talk for a minute first."
I couldn't control my grimace. I'd forgotten to ask

Alice for a good excuse.
"You know you're in trouble."
"Yeah, I know."
"I just about went crazy these last three days. I come

home from Harry's funeral,


and you're gone. Jacob could only tell me that you'd

run off with Alice Cullen,
and that he thought you were in trouble. You didn't

leave me a number, and you
didn't call. I didn't know where you were or when—or

if—you were coming
back. Do you have any idea how… how…" He couldn't

finish the sentence. He
sucked in a sharp breath and moved on. "Can you give me

one reason why I
shouldn't ship you off to Jacksonville this second?"


My eyes narrowed. So it was going to be threats, was

it? Two could play at that
game. I sat up, pulling the quilt around me. "Because I

won't go."


"Now just one minute, young lady—"
"Look, Dad, I accept complete responsibility for my

actions, and you have the
right to ground me for as long as you want. I will also

do all the chores and
laundry and dishes until you think I've learned my

lesson. And I guess you're
within your rights if you want to kick me out, too—but

that won't make me to go
to Florida."


His face turned bright red. He took a few deep breaths

before he answered.
"Would you like to explain where you've been?"
Oh, crap. "There was… an emergency."
He raised his eyebrows in expectation of my brilliant

explanation.



I filled my cheeks with air and then blew it out

noisily. "I don't know what to tell
you, Dad. It was mostly a misunderstanding. He said,

she said. It got out of hand."


He waited with a distrustful expression.
"See, Alice told Rosalie about me jumping off the

cliff…" I was scrambling
frantically to make this work, to keep it as close to

the truth as possible so that
my inability to lie convincingly would not undermine

the excuse, but before I
could go on, Charlie's expression reminded me that he

didn't know arything about
the cliff.


Major oops. As if I wasn't already toast.
"I guess I didn't tell you about that," I choked out.

"It was nothing. Just messing
around, swimming with Jake. Anyway, Rosalie told

Edward, and he was upset.
She sort of accidentally made it sound like I wa?

trying to kill myself or
something. He wouldn't answer his phone, so Alice

dragged me to… L.A., to


explain in person." I shrugged, desperately hoping that

he would not be so
distracted by my slip that he'd miss the brilliant

explanation I'd provided.
Charlie's face was frozen. "Were you trying to kill

yourself, Bella?"
"No, of course not. Just having fun with Jake. Cliff

diving. The La Push kids do it


all the time. Like I said, nothing."
Charlie's face heated up—from frozen to hot with fury.

"What's it to Edward


Cullen anyway?" he barked. "All this time, he's just

left you dangling without a
word—"
I interrupted him. "Another misunderstanding."
His face flushed again. "So is he back then?"
"I'm not sure what the exact plan is. I think they all

are."
He shook his head, the vein in his forehead pulsing. "I

want you to stay away


from him, Bella. I don't trust him. He's rotten for

you. I won't let him mess you up



like that again."
"Fine," I said curtly.
Charlie rocked back onto his heels. "Oh." He scrambled

for a second, exhaling


loudly in surprise. "I thought you were going to be

difficult."
"I am." I stared straight into his eyes. "I meant,

'Fine, I'll move out.'"
His eyes bulged; his face turned puce. My resolve

wavered as I started to worry


about his health. He was no younger than Harry…
"Dad, I don't want to move out," I said in a softer

tone. "I love you. I know you're


worried, but you need to trust me on this. And you're

going to have to ease up on
Edward if you want me to stay. Do you want me to live

here or not?"
"That's not fair, Bella. You know I want you to stay."
"Then be nice to Edward, because he's going to be where

I am." I said it with


confidence. The conviction of my epiphany was still

strong.
"Not under my roof," Charlie stormed.
I sighed a heavy sigh. "Look, I'm not going to give you

any more ultimatums


tonight—or I guess it's this morning. Just think about

it for a few days, okay? But
keep in mind that Edward and I are sort of a package

deal."


"Bella—"
"Think it over," I insisted. "And while you're doing

that, could you give me some
privacy? I really need a shower."


Charlie's face was a strange shade of purple, but he

left, slamming the door


behind him. I heard him stomp furiously down the

stairs.
I threw off my quilt, and Edward was already there,

sitting in the rocking chair as
if he d been present through the whole conversation.


"Sorry about that," I whispered.



"It's not as if I don't deserve far worse," he

murmured. "Don't start anything with


Charlie over me, please. "
"Don't worry about it," I breathed as I gathered up my

bathroom things and a set
of clean clothes. "I will start exactly as much as is

necessary, and no more than
that. Or are you trying to tell me I have nowhere to

go?" I widened my eyes with
false alarm.


"You'd move in with a house full of vampires?"


"That's probably the safest place for someone like me.

Besides…" I grinned. "If
Charlie kicks me out, then there's no need for a

graduation deadline, is there?"
His jaw tightened. "So eager for eternal damnation," he

muttered.
"You know you don't really believe that."
"Oh, don't I?" he fumed.
"No. You don't."
He glowered at me and started to speak, but I cut him

off.
"If you really believed that you'd lost your soul, then

when I found you in


Volterra, you would have realized immediately what was

happening, instead of
thinking we were both dead together. But you didn't—you

said 'Amazing.
Carlisle was right,'" I reminded him, triumphant.

"There's hope in you, after all."


For once, Edward was speechless.


"So let's both just be hopeful, all right?" I

suggested. "Not that it matters. If you
stay, I don't need heaven."
He got up slowly, and came to put his hands on either

side of my face as he stared


into my eyes. "Forever," he vowed, still a little

staggered.
"That's all I'm asking for," I said, and stretched up

on my toes so that I could
press my lips to his.



EPILOGUE TREATY


ALMOST EVERYTHING WAS BACK TO NORMAL—THE GOOD, pre-
zombie normal—in less time than I would have believed

possible. The hospital
welcomed Carlisle back with eager arms, not even

bothering to conceal their
delight that Esme had found life in L.A. so little to

her liking. Thanks to the
Calculus test I'd missed while abroad, Alice and Edward

were in better to shape
to graduate than I was at the moment. Suddenly, college

was a priority (college
was still plan B, on the off chance that Edward's offer

swayed me from the postgraduation
Carlisle option). Many deadlines had passed me by, but

Edward had a
new stack of applications for me to fill out every day.

He'd already done the
Harvard route, so it didn't bother him that, thanks to

my procrastination, we might
both end up at Peninsula Community College next year.

Charlie was not happy with me, or speaking to Edward.

But at least Edward was
allowed—during my designated visiting hours—inside the

house again. I just
wasn't allowed out of it.

School and work were the only exceptions, and the

dreary, dull yellow walls of
my classrooms had become oddly inviting to me of late.

That had a lot to do with
the person who sat in the desk beside me.

Edward had resumed his schedule from the beginning of

the year, which put him
in most of my classes again. My behavior had been such

last fall, after the
Cullens' supposed move to L.A., that the seat beside me

had never been filled.


Even Mike, always eager to take any advantage, had kept

a safe distance. With
Edward back in place, it was almost as if the last

eight months were just a
disturbing nightmare.


Almost, but not quite. There was the house arrest

situation, for one thing. And for
another, before the fall, I hadn't been best friends

with Jacob Black. So, of course,
I hadn't missed him then.


I wasn't at liberty to go to La Push, and Jacob wasn't

coming to see me. He


wouldn't even answer my phone calls.
I made these calls mostly at night, after Edward had

been kicked out—promptly
at nine by a grimly gleeful Charlie—and before Edward

snuck back through my
window when Charlie was asleep. I chose that time to

make my fruitless calls
because I'd noticed that Edward made a certain face

every time I mentioned
Jacob's name. Sort of disapproving and wary… maybe even

angry. I guessed that
he had some reciprocal prejudice against the

werewolves, though he wasn't as
vocal as Jacob had been about the "bloodsuckers."


So, I didn't mention Jacob much.
With Edward near me, it was hard to think about unhappy

things—even my


former besi fnend, who was probably very unhappy right

now, due to me. When I
did think of Jake, I always felt guilty for not

thinking of him more.
The fairy tale was back on. Prince returned, bad spell

broken. I wasn't sure


exactly what to do about the leftover, unresolved

character. Where was his


happily ever after?
Weeks passed, and Jacob still wouldn't answer my calls.

It started to become a
constant worry. Like a dripping faucet in the back of

my head that I couldn't shut
off or ignore. Drip, drip, drip. Jacob, Jacob, Jacob.


So, though I didn't mention Jacob much, sometimes my

frustration and anxiety



boiled over.
"It's just plain rude!" I vented one Saturday afternoon

when Edward picked me up


from work. Being angry about things was easier than

feeling guilty. "Downright
insulting!"
I'd varied my pattern, in hopes of a different

response. I'd called Jake from work


this time, only to get an unhelpful Billy. Again.


"Billy said he didn't want to talk to me," I fumed,

glaring at the rain oozing down
the passenger window.
"That he was there, and wouldn't walk three steps to

get to the phone! Usually


Billy just says he's out or busy or sleeping or

something. I mean, it's not like I
didn't know he was lying to me, but at least it was a

polite way to handle it. I
guess Billy hates me now, too. It's not fair!"


"It's not you, Bella," Edward said quietly. "Nobody

hates you."
"Feels that way," I muttered, folding my arms across my

chest. It was no more


than a stubborn gesture. There was no hole there now—I

could barely remember
the empty feeling anymore.
"Jacob knows we're back, and I'm sure that he's

ascertained that I'm with you,"


Edward said. "He won't come anywhere near me. The

enmity is rooted too
deeply."
"That's stupid. He knows you're not… like other

vampires."


"There's still good reason to keep a safe distance."
I glared blindly out the windshield, seeing only

Jacob's face, set in the bitter mask
I hated.


"Bella, we are what we are," Edward said quietly. "I

can control myself, but I
doubt he can. He's very young. It would most likely

turn into a fight, and I don't
know if I could stop it before I k—" he broke off, and

then quickly continued.



"Before I hurt him. You would be unhappy. I don't want

that to happen."
I remembered what Jacob had said in the kitchen,

hearing the words with perfect
recall in his husky voice. I'm not sure that I'm

even-tempered enough to handle


that… You probably wouldn't like it so much if I killed

your friend. But he'd been
able to handle it, that time…
"Edward Cullen," I whispered. "Were you about to say

'killed him? Were you?"
He looked away from me, staring into the rain. In front

of us, the red light I hadn't


noticed turned green and he started forward again,

driving very slowly. Not his
usual way of driving.


"I would try… very hard… not to do that," Edward

finally said.
I stared at him with my mouth hanging open, but he

continued to look straight
ahead. We were paused at the corner stop sign.


Abruptly, I remembered what had happened to Paris when

Romeo came back.
The stage directions were simple: They fight. Paris

falls.


But that was ridiculous. Impossible.
"Well," I said, and took a deep breath, shaking my head

to dispel the words in my
head. "Nothing like that is ever going to happen, so

there's no reason to worry
about it. And you know Charlie's staring at the clock

right now. You'd better get
me home before I get in more trouble for being late."


I turned my face up toward him, to smile halfheartedly.
Every time I looked at his face, that impossibly

perfect face, my heart pounded
strong and healthy and very there in my chest. This

time, the pounding raced


ahead of its usual besotted pace. I recognized the

expression on his statue-still
face.
"You're already in more trouble, Bella," he whispered

through unmoving lips.



I slid closer, clutching his arm as I followed his gaze

to see what he was seeing. I
don't know what I expected—maybe Victoria standing in

the middle of the street,
her flaming red hair blowing in the wind, or a line of

tall black cloaks… or a pack
of angry werewolves. But I didn't see anything at all.


"What? What is it?"
He took a deep breath. "Charlie…"
"My dad?" I screeched.
He looked down at me then, and his expression was calm

enough to ease some of


my panic.
"Charlie… is probably not going to kill you, but he's

thinking about it," he told


me. He started to drive forward again, down my street,

but he passed the house
and parked by the edge of the trees.
"What did I do?" I gasped.
Edward glanced back at Charlie's house. I followed his

gaze, and noticed for the


first time what was parked in the driveway next to the

cruiser. Shiny, bright red,


impossible to miss. My motorcycle, flaunting itself in

the driveway.
Edward had said that Charlie was ready to kill me, so

he must know that—that it
was mine. There was only one person who could be behind

this treachery.


"No!" I gasped. "Why? Why would Jacob do this to me?"

The sting of betrayal
washed through me. I had trusted Jacob

implicitly—trusted him with every single
secret I had. He was supposed to be my safe harbor—the

person I could always
rely on. Of course things were strained right now, but

I didn't think any of the
underlying foundation had changed. I didn't think that

was changeable!


What had I done to deserve this? Charlie was going to

be so mad—and worse
than that, he was going to be hurt and worried. Didn't

he have enough to deal
with already? I would have never imagined that Jake

could be so petty and just



plain mean. Tears sprang, smarting, into my eyes, but

they were not tears of
sadness. I had been betrayed. I was suddenly so angry

that my head throbbed like
it was going to explode.


"Is he still here?" I hissed.


"Yes. He's waiting for us there." Edward told me,

nodding toward the slender
path that divided the dark fringe of the forest in two.
I jumped out of the car, launching myself toward the

trees with my hands already


balled into fists for the first punch.
Why did Edward have to be so much faster than me?
He caught me around the waist before I made the path.
"Let me go! I'm going to murder him! Traitor!" I

shouted the epithet toward the


trees.


"Charlie will hear you," Edward warned me. "And once he

gets you inside, he
may brick over the doorway."
I glanced back at the house instinctively, and it

seemed like the glossy red bike


was all I could see. I was seeing red. My head throbbed

again.


"Just give me one round with Jacob, and then I'll deal

with Charlie." I struggled
futilely to break free.
"Jacob Black wants to see me. That's why he's still

here."
That stopped me cold—took the fight right out of me. My

hands went limp. They


fight; Paris falls.
I was furious, but not that furious.
"Talk?" I asked.
"More or less."
"How much more?" My voice shook.



Edward smoothed my hair back from my face. "Don't

worry, he's not here to fight
me. He's acting as… spokesperson for the pack."


"Oh."
Edward looked at the house again, then tightened his

arm around my waist and
pulled me toward the woods. "We should hurry. Charlie's

getting impatient."


We didn't have to go far; Jacob waited just a short

ways up the path. He lounged
against a mossy tree trunk as he waited, his face hard

and bitter, exactly the way I
knew it would be. He looked at me, and then at Edward.

Jacob's mouth stretched
into a humorless sneer, and he shrugged away from the

tree. He stood on the balls
of his bare feet, leaning slightly forward, with his

trembling hands clenched into
fists. He looked bigger than the last time I'd seen

him. Somehow, impossibly, he
was still growing. He would tower over Edward, if they

stood next to each other.


But Edward stopped as soon as we saw him, leaving a

wide space between us and
Jacob. Edward turned his body, shifting me so that I

was behind him. I leaned
around him to stare at Jacob—to accuse him with my

eyes.


I would have thought that seeing his resentful, cynical

expression would only
make me angrier. Instead, it reminded me of the last

time I'd seen him, with tears
in his eyes. My fury weakened, faltered, as I stared at

Jacob. It had been so long
since I'd seen him—I hated that our reunion had to be

like this.


"Bella," Jacob said as a greeting, nodding once toward

me without looking away


from Edward.
"Why?" I whispered, trying to hide the sound of the

lump in my throat. "How
could you do this to me, Jacob?"


The sneer vanished, but his face stayed hard and rigid.

"It's for the best."
"What is that supposed to mean? Do you want Charlie to

strangle me? Or did
you want him to have a heart attack, like Harry? No

matter how mad you are at



me, how could you do this to him?"
Jacob winced, and his eyebrows pulled together, but he

didn't answer.
"He didn't want to hurt anyone—he just wanted to get

you grounded, so that you


wouldn't be allowed to spend time with me," Edward

murmured, explaining the
thoughts Jacob wouldn't say.


Jacob's eyes sparked with hate as he glowered at Edward

again.
"Aw, Jake!" I groaned. "I'm already grounded! Why do

you think I haven't been
down to La Push to kick your butt for avoiding my phone

calls?"


Jacob's eyes flashed back to me, confused for the first

time. "That's why?" he
asked, and then locked his jaw, like he was sorry he'd

said anything.
"He thought I wouldn't let you, not Charlie," Edward

explained again.
"Stop that," Jacob snapped.


Edward didn't answer.
Jacob shuddered once, and then gritted his teeth as

hard as his fists. "Bella wasn't
exaggerating about your… abilities," he said through

his teeth. "So you must
already know why I'm here."


"Yes," Edward agreed in a soft voice. "But, before you

begin, I need to say


something."
Jacob waited, clenching and unclenching his hands as he

tried to control the
shivers rolling down his arms.


"Thank you," Edward said, and his voice throbbed with

the depth of his sincerity.
"I will never be able to tell you how grateful I am. I

will owe you for the rest of
my… existence."


Jacob stared at him blankly, his shudders stilled by

surprise. He exchanged a
quick glance with me, but my face was just as

mystified.



"For keeping Bella alive," Edward clarified, his voice

rough and fervent. "When
I… didn't."


"Edward—," I started to say, but he held one hand up,

his eyes on Jacob.
Understanding washed over Jacob's face before the hard

mask returned. "I didn't
do it for your benefit."


"I know. But that doesn't erase the gratitude I feel. I

thought you should know. If
there's ever anything in my power to do for you…"
Jacob raised one black brow.
Edward shook his head. "That's not in my power."


"Whose, then?" Jacob growled.
Edward looked down at me. "Hers. I'm a quick learner,

Jacob Black, and I don't
make the same mistake twice. I'm here until she orders

me away."


I was immersed momentarily in his golden gaze. It

wasn't hard to understand
what I'd missed in the conversation. The only thing

that Jacob would want from
Edward would be his absence.


"Never," I whispered, still locked in Edward's eyes.
Jacob made a gagging sound.
I unwillingly broke free from Edward's gaze to frown at

Jacob. "Was there


something else you needed, Jacob? You wanted me in

trouble—mission
Accomplished. Charlie might just send me to military

school. But that won't keep
me away from Edward. There's nothing that can do that.

What more do you
want?"


Jacob kept his eyes on Edward "I just needed to remind

your bloodsucking
friends of a few key points in the treaty they agreed

to. The treaty chat is the only
thing stopping me from ripping his throat out right

this minute."



"We haven't forgotten," Edward said at the same time

that I demanded, "What


key points?"
Jacob still glowered at Edward, but he answered me.

"The treaty is quite specific.
If any of them bite a human, the truce is over. Bite,

not kill," he emphasized.
Finally, he looked at me. His eyes were cold.


It only took me a second to grasp the distinction, and

then my face was as cold as
his.
"That's none of your business."


"The hell it—" was all he managed to choke out.
I didn't expect my hasty words to bring on such a

strong response. Despite the
warning he'd come to give, he must not have known. He

must have thought the
warning was just a precaution. He hadn't realized—or

didn't want to believe—
that I had already made my choice. That I was really

intending to become a
member of the Cullen family.


My answer sent Jacob into near convulsions. He pressed

his fists hard against his
temples, closing his eyes tight and curling in on

himself as he tried to control the
spasms. His face turned sallow green under the russet

skin.


"Jake? You okay?" I asked anxiously.


I took a half-step toward him, then Edward caught me

and yanked me back
behind his own body. "Careful! He's not under control,"

he warned me.
But Jacob was already somewhat himself again; only his

arms were shaking now.


He scowled at Edward with pure hate. "Ugh. I would

never hurt her."


Neither Edward or I missed the inflection, or the

accusation it contained. A low
hiss escaped Edward's lips. Jacob clenched his fists

reflexively.
"BELLA!" Charlie's roar echoed from the direction of

the house. "YOU GET IN


THIS HOUSE THIS INSTANT!"



All of us froze, listening to the silence that

followed.
I was the first to speak; my voice trembled. "Crap."
Jacob's furious expression faltered. "I am sorry about

that," he muttered. "I had to


do what I could—I had to try…"
"Thanks." The tremor in my voice ruined the sarcasm. I

stared up the path, half-


expecting Charlie to come barreling through the wet

ferns like an enraged bull. I
would be the red flag in that scenario.
"Just one more thing," Edward said to me, and then he

looked at Jacob. "We've


found no trace of Victoria on our side of the line—have

you?"
He knew the answer as soon as Jacob thought it, but

Jacob spoke the answer


anyway. "Trie last time was while Bella was… away. We

let her think she was
slipping through—we were tightening the circle, getting

ready to ambush her—"
Ice shot down my spine.
"But then she took off like a bat out of hell. Near as

we can tell, she caught your


little female's scent and bailed. She hasn't come near

our lands since."


Edward nodded. "When she comes back, she's not your

problem anymore. We'll
—"
"She killed on our turf," Jacob hissed. "She's ours!"
"No—," I began to protest both declarations.
"BELLA! I SEE HIS CAR AND I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE! IF

YOU


AREN'T INSIDE THIS HOUSE IN ONE MINUTE… !" Charlie

didn't bother to
finish his threat.
"Let's go," Edward said.
I looked back at Jacob, torn. Would I see him again?
"Sorry," he whispered so low that I had to read his

lips to understand. '"Bye,



Bells."
"You promised," I reminded him desperately. "Still

friends, right?"
Jacob shook his head slowly, and the lump in my throat

nearly strangled me.
"You know how hard I've tried to keep that promise,

but… I can't see how to


keep trying. Not now…" He struggled to keep his hard

mask in place, but it
wavered, and then disappeared. "Miss you," he mouthed.

One of his hands
reached toward me, his fingers outstretched, like he

wished they were long
enough to cross the distance between us.


"Me, too," I choked out. My hand reached toward his

across the wide space.


Like we were connected, the echo of his pain twisted

inside me. His pain, my
pain.
"Jake…" I took a step toward him. I wanted to wrap my

arms around his waist


and erase the expression of misery on his face.
Edward pulled me back again, his arms restraining

instead of defending.
"It's okay," I promised him, looking up to read his

face with trust in my eyes. He


would understand.
His eyes were unreadable, his face expressionless.

Cold. "No, it's not."
"Let her go," Jacob snarled, furious again. "She wants

to!" He took two long


strides forward. A glint of anticipation flashed in his

eyes. His chest seemed to
swell as it shuddered.
Edward pushed me behind himself, wheeling to face

Jacob.
"No! Edward—!"


"ISABELLA SWAN!"
"Come on! Charlie's mad!" My voice was panicked, but

not because of Charlie
now. "Hurry!"



I tugged on him and he relaxed a little. He pulled me

back slowly, always


keeping his eyes on Jacob as we retreated.
Jacob watched us with a dark scowl on his bitter face.

The anticipation drained
from his eyes, and then, just before the forest came

between us, his face suddenly
crumpled in pain.


I knew that last glimpse of his face would haunt me

until I saw him smile again.


And right there I vowed that I would see him smile, and

soon. I would find a way
to keep my friend.
Edward kept his arm tight around my waist, holding me

close. That was the only


thing that held the tears inside my eyes.
I had some serious problems.
My best friend counted me with his enemies.
Victoria was still on the loose, putting everyone I

loved in danger.
If I didn't become a vampire soon, the Volturi would

kill me.
And now it seemed that if I did, the Quileute

werewolves would try to do the job


themselves—along with trying to kill my future family.

I didn't think they had


any chance really, but would my best friend get himself

killed in the attempt?
Very serious problems. So why did they all suddenly

seem insignificant when we
broke through the last of the trees and I caught sight

of the expression on
Charlie's purple face?


Edward squeezed me gently. "I'm here."
I drew in a deep breath.
That was true. Edward was here, with his arms around

me.
I could face anything as long as that was true.
I squared my shoulders and walked forward to meet my

fate, with my destiny



solidly at my side.