ዘመኑ ባፈራው የቴክኖሎጂ ግብአት በመጠቀም ለህብረተሰባችን ስራ ለሁሉም በሚል ግብ የተሻለ የስራ አማራጭ፣ ለተሻለ ኑሮ፣ ለተሻለ የገበያ ትስስር ፣ ለተቀናጀ የገበያ ተደራሽነት ገዥን ከደንበኛ የማስተሳሰሪያ የቴክኖሎጂ አማራጭ ይዘን መተናል በሁሉም የስራ መስክ በሁሉም የስራ እርከን ስራ ለሚገኙ ባለሙያዎች እና ድርጅቶች የስራ አጋጣሚን መፍጠር
ዘመኑ ባፈራው የቴክኖሎጂ ግብአት በመጠቀም ለህብረተሰባችን ስራ ለሁሉም በሚል ግብ የተሻለ የስራ አማራጭ፣ ለተሻለ ኑሮ፣ ለተሻለ የገበያ ትስስር ፣ ለተቀናጀ የገበያ ተደራሽነት ገዥን ከደንበኛ የማስተሳሰሪያ የቴክኖሎጂ አማራጭ ይዘን መተናል በሁሉም የስራ መስክ በሁሉም የስራ እርከን ስራ ለሚገኙ ባለሙያዎች እና ድርጅቶች የስራ አጋጣሚን መፍጠር
ዘመኑ ባፈራው የቴክኖሎጂ ግብአት በመጠቀም ለህብረተሰባችን ስራ ለሁሉም በሚል ግብ የተሻለ የስራ አማራጭ፣ ለተሻለ ኑሮ፣ ለተሻለ የገበያ ትስስር ፣ ለተቀናጀ የገበያ ተደራሽነት ገዥን ከደንበኛ የማስተሳሰሪያ የቴክኖሎጂ አማራጭ ይዘን መተናል በሁሉም የስራ መስክ በሁሉም የስራ እርከን ስራ ለሚገኙ ባለሙያዎች እና ድርጅቶች የስራ አጋጣሚን መፍጠር
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ዘመኑ ባፈራው የቴክኖሎጂ ግብአት በመጠቀም ለህብረተሰባችን ስራ ለሁሉም በሚል ግብ የተሻለ የስራ አማራጭ፣ ለተሻለ ኑሮ፣ ለተሻለ የገበያ ትስስር ፣ ለተቀናጀ የገበያ ተደራሽነት ገዥን ከደንበኛ የማስተሳሰሪያ የቴክኖሎጂ አማራጭ ይዘን መተናል በሁሉም የስራ መስክ በሁሉም የስራ እርከን ስራ ለሚገኙ ባለሙያዎች እና ድርጅቶች የስራ አጋጣሚን መፍጠር
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1. ULTIMATUM
Bella,
I don't know why you're making Charlie carry notes to Billy like we're in second grade - if I wanted to talk to you I would answer the
You made the choice here, okay? You can't have it both ways when What part of 'mortal enemies' is too complicated for you to
Look, I know I'm being a jerk, but there's just no way around
We can't be friends when you're spending all your time with a bunch of
It just makes it worse when I think about you too much, so don't write anymore Yeah, I miss you, too. A lot. Doesn't change anything. Sorry.
Jacob
I ran my fingers across the page, feeling the dents where he had pressed the pen to the paper so hard that it had nearly broken through. I could picture him writing this - scrawling the angry letters in his rough handwriting, slashing through line after line when the words came out wrong, maybe even snapping the pen in his too-big hand; that would explain the ink splatters. I could imagine the frustration pulling his black eyebrows together and crumpling his forehead. If I'd been there, I might have laughed.Don't give yourself a brain hemorrhage, Jacob, I would have told him.Just spit it out.
Laughing was the last thing I felt like doing now as I reread the words I'd already memorized. His answer to my pleading note - passed from Charlie to Billy to him, just like second grade, as he'd pointed out - was no surprise. I'd known the essence of what it would say before I'd opened it.
What was surprising was how much each crossed-out line wounded me - as if the points of the letters had cutting edges. More than that, behind each angry beginning lurked a vast pool of hurt; Jacob's pain cut me deeper than my own.
While I was pondering this, I caught the unmistakable scent of a smoking burner rising from the kitchen. In another house, the fact that someone besides myself was cooking might not be a cause for panicking.
I shoved the wrinkled paper into my back pocket and ran, making it downstairs in the nick of time.
The jar of spaghetti sauce Charlie'd stuck in the microwave was only on its first revolution when I yanked the door open and pulled it out.
"What did I do wrong?" Charlie demanded.
"You're supposed to take the lid off first, Dad. Metal's bad for microwaves." I swiftly removed the lid as I spoke, poured half the sauce into a bowl, and then put the bowl inside the microwave and the jar back in the fridge; I fixed the time and pressed start.
Charlie watched my adjustments with pursed lips. "Did I get the noodles right?"
I looked in the pan on the stove - the source of the smell that had alerted me. "Stirring helps," I said mildly. I found a spoon and tried to de-clump the mushy hunk that was scalded to the bottom.
Charlie sighed.
"So what's all this about?" I asked him.
He folded his arms across his chest and glared out the back windows into the sheeting rain. "Don't know what you're talking about," he grumbled.
I was mystified. Charlie cooking? And what was with the surly attitude? Edward wasn't here yet; usually my dad reserved this kind of behavior for my boyfriend's benefit, doing his best to illustrate the theme of "unwelcome" with every word and posture. Charlie's efforts were unnecessary - Edward knew exactly what my dad was thinking without the show.
The wordboyfriend had me chewing on the inside of my cheek with a familiar tension while I stirred. It wasn't the right word, not at all. I needed something more expressive of eternal commitment. . . . But words likedestiny andfate sounded hokey when you used them in casual conversation.
Edward had another word in mind, and that word was the source of the tension I felt. It put my teeth on edge just to think it to myself.
Fiancée. Ugh. I shuddered away from the thought.
"Did I miss something? Since when do you make dinner?" I asked Charlie. The pasta lump bobbed in the boiling water as I poked it. "Ortry to make dinner, I should say."
Charlie shrugged. "There's no law that says I can't cook inzz my own house."
"You would know," I replied, grinning as I eyed the badge pinned to his leather jacket.
"Ha. Good one." He shrugged out of the jacket as if my glance had reminded him he still had it on, and hung it on the peg reserved for his gear. His gun belt was already slung in place - he hadn't felt the need to wear that to the station for a few weeks. There had been no more disturbing disappearances to trouble the small town of Forks, Washington, no more sightings of the giant, mysterious wolves in the ever-rainy woods. . . .
I prodded the noodles in silence, guessing that Charlie would get around to talking about whatever was bothering him in his own time. My dad was not a man of many words, and the effort he had put into trying to orchestrate a sit-down dinner with me made it clear there were an uncharacteristic number of words on his mind.
I glanced at the clock routinely - something I did every few minutes around this time. Less than a half hour to go now.
Afternoons were the hardest part of my day. Ever since my former best friend (and werewolf), Jacob Black, had informed on me about the motorcycle I'd been riding on the sly - a betrayal he had devised in order to get me grounded so that I couldn't spend time with my boyfriend (and vampire), Edward Cullen - Edward had been allowed to see me only from seven till nine-thirty p.m., always inside the confines of my home and under the supervision of my dad's unfailingly crabby glare.
This was an escalation from the previous, slightly less stringent grounding that I'd earned for an unexplained three-day disappearance and one episode of cliff diving.
Of course, I still saw Edward at school, because there wasn't anything Charlie could do about that. And then, Edward spent almost every night in my room, too, but Charlie wasn't precisely aware of that. Edward's ability to climb easily and silently through my second-story window was almost as useful as his ability to read Charlie's mind.
Though the afternoon was the only time I spent away from Edward, it was enough to make me restless, and the hours always dragged. Still, I endured my punishment without complaining because - for one thing - I knew I'd earned it, and - for another - because I couldn't bear to hurt my dad by moving out now, when a much more permanent separation hovered, invisible to Charlie, so close on my horizon.
My dad sat down at the table with a grunt and unfolded the damp newspaper there; within seconds he was clucking his tongue in disapproval.
"I don't know why you read the news, Dad. It only ticks you off."
He ignored me, grumbling at the paper in his hands. "This is why everyone wants to live in a small town! Ridiculous."
"What have big cities done wrong now?"
"Seattle's making a run for murder capital of the country. Five unsolved homicides in the last two weeks. Can you imagine living like that?"
"I think Phoenix is actually higher up the homicide list, Dad. Ihave lived like that." And I'd never come close to being a murder victim until after I moved to his safe little town. In fact, I was still on several hit lists. The spoon shook in my hands, making the water tremble.
"Well, you couldn't pay me enough," Charlie said.
I gave up on saving dinner and settled for serving it; I had to use a steak knife to cut a portion of spaghetti for Charlie and then myself, while he watched with a sheepish expression. Charlie coated his helping with sauce and dug in. I disguised my own clump as well as I could and followed his example without much enthusiasm. We ate in silence for a moment. Charlie was still scanning the news, so I picked up my much-abused copy of Wuthering Heights from where I'd left it this morning at breakfast, and tried to lose myself in turn-of-the-century England while I waited for him to start talking.
I was just to the part where Heathcliff returns when Charlie cleared his throat and threw the paper to the floor.
"You're right," Charlie said. "I did have a reason for doing this." He waved his fork at the gluey spread. "I wanted to talk to you."
I laid the book aside; the binding was so destroyed that it slumped flat to the table. "You could have just asked."
He nodded, his eyebrows pulling together. "Yeah. I'll remember that next time. I thought taking dinner off your hands would soften you up."
I laughed. "It worked - your cooking skills have me soft as a marshmallow. What do you need, Dad?"
"Well, it's about Jacob."
I felt my face harden. "What about him?" I asked through stiff lips.
"Easy, Bells. I know you're still upset that he told on you, but it was the right thing. He was being responsible."
"Responsible," I repeated scathingly, rolling my eyes. "Right. So, what about Jacob?"
The careless question repeated inside my head, anything but trivial. What about Jacob? What was I going to do about him? My former best friend who was now . . . what? My enemy? I cringed.
Charlie's face was suddenly wary. "Don't get mad at me, okay?" "Mad?"
"Well, it's about Edward, too." My eyes narrowed.
Charlie's voice got gruffer. "I let him in the house, don't I?"
"You do," I admitted. "For brief periods of time. Of course, you might let me out of the house for brief periods now and then, too," I continued - only jokingly; I knew I was on lockdown for the duration of the school year. "I've been pretty good lately."
"Well, that's kind of where I was heading with this. . . ." And then Charlie's face stretched into an unexpected eye-crinkling grin; for a second he looked twenty years younger.
I saw a dim glimmer of possibility in that smile, but I proceeded slowly. "I'm confused, Dad. Are we talking about Jacob, or Edward, or me being grounded?"
The grin flashed again. "Sort of all three." "And how do they relate?" I asked, cautious.
"Okay." He sighed, raising his hands as if in surrender. "So I'm thinking maybe you deserve a parole for good behavior. For a teenager, you're amazingly non-whiney."
My voice and eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? I'm free?"
Where was this coming from? I'd been positive I would be under house arrest until I actually moved out, and Edward hadn't picked up any wavering in Charlie's thoughts. . . .
Charlie held up one finger. "Conditionally."
The enthusiasm vanished. "Fantastic," I groaned.
"Bella, this is more of a request than a demand, okay? You're free. But I'm hoping you'll use that freedom . . . judiciously."
"What does that mean?"
He sighed again. "I know you're satisfied to spend all of your time with Edward -"
"I spend time with Alice, too," I interjected. Edward's sister had no hours of visitation; she came and went as she pleased. Charlie was putty in her capable hands.
"That's true," he said. "But you have other friends besides the Cullens, Bella. Or you used
to."
We stared at each other for a long moment.
"When was the last time you spoke to Angela Weber?" he threw at me. "Friday at lunch," I answered immediately.
Before Edward's return, my school friends had polarized into two groups. I liked to think of those groups as good vs. evil. Us and them worked, too. The good guys were Angela, her steady boyfriend Ben Cheney, and Mike Newton; these three had all very generously
forgiven me for going crazy when Edward left. Lauren Mallory was the evil core of the them side, and almost everyone else, including my first friend in Forks, Jessica Stanley, seemed content to go along with her anti-Bella agenda.
With Edward back at school, the dividing line had become even more distinct.
Edward's return had taken its toll on Mike's friendship, but Angela was unswervingly loyal, and Ben followed her lead. Despite the natural aversion most humans felt toward the Cullens, Angela sat dutifully beside Alice every day at lunch. After a few weeks, Angela even looked comfortable there. It was difficult not to be charmed by the Cullens - once one gave them the chance to be charming.
"Outside of school?" Charlie asked, calling my attention back.
"I haven't seen anyone outside of school, Dad. Grounded, remember? And Angela has a boyfriend, too. She's always with Ben. If I'm really free," I added, heavy on the skepticism, "maybe we could double."
"Okay. But then . . ." He hesitated. "You and Jake used to be joined at the hip, and now -" I cut him off. "Can you get to the point, Dad? What's your condition - exactly?"
"I don't think you should dump all your other friends for your boyfriend, Bella," he said in a stern voice. "It's not nice, and I think your life would be better balanced if you kept some other people in it. What happened last September . . ."
I flinched.
"Well," he said defensively. "If you'd had more of a life outside of Edward Cullen, it might not have been like that."
"It would have been exactly like that," I muttered. "Maybe, maybe not."
"The point?" I reminded him.
"Use your new freedom to see your other friends, too. Keep it balanced."
I nodded slowly. "Balance is good. Do I have specific time quotas to fill, though?"
He made a face, but shook his head. "I don't want to make this complicated. Just don't forget your friends . . ."
It was a dilemma I was already struggling with. My friends. People who, for their own safety, I would never be able to see again after graduation.
So what was the better course of action? Spend time with them while I could? Or start the
separation now to make it more gradual? I quailed at the idea of the second option.
". . . particularly Jacob," Charlie added before I could think things through more than that.
A greater dilemma than the first. It took me a moment to find the right words. "Jacob might be . . . difficult."
"The Blacks are practically family, Bella," he said, stern and fatherly again. "And Jacob has been a very, very good friend to you."
"I know that."
"Don't you miss him at all?" Charlie asked, frustrated.
My throat suddenly felt swollen; I had to clear it twice before I answered. "Yes, I do miss him," I admitted, still looking down. "I miss him a lot."
"Then why is it difficult?"
It wasn't something I was at liberty to explain. It was against the rules for normal people
-human people like me and Charlie - to know about the clandestine world full of myths and monsters that existed secretly around us. I knew all about that world - and I was in no small amount of trouble as a result. I wasn't about to get Charlie in the same trouble.
"With Jacob there is a . . . conflict," I said slowly. "A conflict about the friendship thing, I mean. Friendship doesn't always seem to be enough for Jake." I wound my excuse out of details that were true but insignificant, hardly crucial compared to the fact that Jacob's werewolf pack bitterly hated Edward's vampire family - and therefore me, too, as I fully intended to join that family. It just wasn't something I could work out with him in a note, and he wouldn't answer my calls. But my plan to deal with the werewolf in person had definitely not gone over well with the vampires.
"Isn't Edward up for a little healthy competition?" Charlie's voice was sarcastic now. I leveled a dark look at him. "There's no competition."
"You're hurting Jake's feelings, avoiding him like this. He'd rather be just friends than nothing."
Oh, nowI was avoidinghim ?
"I'm pretty sure Jake doesn't want to be friends at all." The words burned in my mouth. "Where'd you get that idea, anyway?"
Charlie looked embarrassed now. "The subject might have come up today with Billy. "
"You and Billy gossip like old women," I complained, stabbing my fork viciously into the congealed spaghetti on my plate.
"Billy's worried about Jacob," Charlie said. "Jake's having a hard time right now. He's
depressed."
I winced, but kept my eyes on the blob.
"And then you were always so happy after spending the day with Jake." Charlie sighed. "I'm happy now ," I growled fiercely through my teeth.
The contrast between my words and tone broke through the tension. Charlie burst into laughter, and I had to join in.
"Okay, okay," I agreed. "Balance." "And Jacob," he insisted.
"I'll try."
"Good. Find that balance, Bella. And, oh, yeah, you've got some mail," Charlie said, closing the subject with no attempt at subtlety. "It's by the stove."
I didn't move, my thoughts twisting into snarls around Jacob's name. It was most likely junk mail; I'd just gotten a package from my mom yesterday and I wasn't expecting anything else.
Charlie shoved his chair away from the table and stretched as he got to his feet. He took his plate to the sink, but before he turned the water on to rinse it, he paused to toss a thick envelope at me. The letter skidded across the table and thunk ed into my elbow.
"Er, thanks," I muttered, puzzled by his pushiness. Then I saw the return address - the letter was from the University of Alaska Southeast. "That was quick. I guess I missed the deadline on that one, too."
Charlie chuckled.
I flipped the envelope over and then glared up at him. "It's open." "I was curious."
"I'm shocked, Sheriff. That's a federal crime." "Oh, just read it."
I pulled out the letter, and a folded schedule of courses.
"Congratulations," he said before I could read anything. "Your first acceptance." "Thanks, Dad."
"We should talk about tuition. I've got some money saved up -"
"Hey, hey, none of that. I'm not touching your retirement, Dad. I've got my college fund." What was left of it - and there hadn't been much to begin with.
Charlie frowned. "Some of these places are pretty pricey, Bells. I want to help. You don't have to go to all the way to Alaska just because it's cheaper."
It wasn't cheaper, not at all. But it was far away, and Juneau had an average of three hundred twenty-one overcast days per year. The first was my prerequisite, the second was Edward's.
"I've got it covered. Besides, there's lots of financial aid out there. It's easy to get loans." I hoped my bluff wasn't too obvious. I hadn't actually done a lot of research on the subject.
"So . . . ," Charlie began, and then he pursed his lips and looked away. "So what?"
"Nothing. I was just . . ." He frowned. "Just wondering what . . . Edward's plans are for next year?"
"Oh."
"Well?"
Three quick raps on the door saved me. Charlie rolled his eyes and I jumped up.
"Coming!" I called while Charlie mumbled something that sounded like, "Go away." I ignored him and went to let Edward in.
I wrenched the door out of my way - ridiculously eager - and there he was, my personal miracle.
Time had not made me immune to the perfection of his face, and I was sure that I would never take any aspect of him for granted. My eyes traced over his pale white features: the hard square of his jaw, the softer curve of his full lips - twisted up into a smile now, the straight line of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the smooth marble span of his forehead - partially obscured by a tangle of rain-darkened bronze hair. . . .
I saved his eyes for last, knowing that when I looked into them I was likely to lose my train of thought. They were wide, warm with liquid gold, and framed by a thick fringe of black lashes. Staring into his eyes always made me feel extraordinary - sort of like my bones were turning spongy. I was also a little lightheaded, but that could have been because I'd forgotten to keep breathing. Again.
It was a face any male model in the world would trade his soul for. Of course, that might be exactly the asking price: one soul.
No. I didn't believe that. I felt guilty for even thinking it, and was glad - as I was often glad - that I was the one person whose thoughts were a mystery to Edward.
I reached for his hand, and sighed when his cold fingers found mine. His touch brought with it the strangest sense of relief - as if I'd been in pain and that pain had suddenly ceased.
"Hey." I smiled a little at my anticlimactic greeting.
He raised our interlaced fingers to brush my cheek with the back of his hand. "How was your afternoon?"
"Slow."
"For me, as well."
He pulled my wrist up to his face, our hands still twisted together. His eyes closed as his nose skimmed along the skin there, and he smiled gently without opening them. Enjoying the bouquet while resisting the wine, as he'd once put it.
I knew that the scent of my blood - so much sweeter to him than any other person's blood, truly like wine beside water to an alcoholic - caused him actual pain from the burning thirst it engendered. But he didn't seem to shy away from it as much as he once had. I could only dimly imagine the Herculean effort behind this simple gesture.
It made me sad that he had to try so hard. I comforted myself with the knowledge that I wouldn't be causing him pain much longer.
I heard Charlie approaching then, stamping his feet on the way to express his customary displeasure with our guest. Edward's eyes snapped open and he let our hands fall, keeping them twined.
"Good evening, Charlie." Edward was always flawlessly polite, though Charlie didn't deserve it.
Charlie grunted at him, and then stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. He was taking the idea of parental supervision to extremes lately.
"I brought another set of applications," Edward told me then, holding up a stuffed manila envelope. He was wearing a roll of stamps like a ring around his littlest finger.
I groaned. How were there any colleges left that he hadn't forced me to apply to already? And how did he keep finding these loophole openings? It was so late in the year.
He smiled as if he could read my thoughts; they must have been very obvious on my face. "There are still a few open deadlines. And a few places willing to make exceptions."
I could just imagine the motivations behind such exceptions. And the dollar amounts
involved.
Edward laughed at my expression.
"Shall we?" he asked, towing me toward the kitchen table.
Charlie huffed and followed behind, though he could hardly complain about the activity on tonight's agenda. He'd been pestering me to make a decision about college on a daily basis.
I cleared the table quickly while Edward organized an intimidating stack of forms. When I moved Wuthering Heights to the counter, Edward raised one eyebrow. I knew what he was thinking, but Charlie interrupted before Edward could comment.
"Speaking of college applications, Edward," Charlie said, his tone even more sullen - he tried to avoid addressing Edward directly, and when he had to, it exacerbated his bad mood. "Bella and I were just talking about next year. Have you decided where you're going to school?"
Edward smiled up at Charlie and his voice was friendly. "Not yet. I've received a few acceptance letters, but I'm still weighing my options."
"Where have you been accepted?" Charlie pressed.
"Syracuse . . . Harvard . . . Dartmouth . . . and I just got accepted to the University of Alaska Southeast today." Edward turned his face slightly to the side so that he could wink at me. I stifled a giggle.
"Harvard? Dartmouth?" Charlie mumbled, unable to conceal his awe. "Well that's pretty . . . that's something. Yeah, but the University of Alaska . . . you wouldn't really consider that when you could go Ivy League. I mean, your father would want you to . . ."
"Carlisle's always fine with whatever I choose to do," Edward told him serenely. "Hmph."
"Guess what, Edward?" I asked in a bright voice, playing along. "What, Bella?"
I pointed to the thick envelope on the counter. "I just gotmy acceptance to the University of Alaska!"
"Congratulations!" He grinned. "What a coincidence."
Charlie's eyes narrowed and he glared back and forth between the two of us. "Fine," he muttered after a minute. "I'm going to go watch the game, Bella. Nine-thirty."
That was his usual parting command.
"Er, Dad? Remember the very recent discussion about my freedom . . . ?"
He sighed. "Right. Okay, ten -thirty. You still have a curfew on school nights."
"Bella's no longer grounded?" Edward asked. Though I knew he wasn't really surprised, I couldn't detect any false note to the sudden excitement in his voice.
"Conditionally," Charlie corrected through his teeth. "What's it to you?" I frowned at my dad, but he didn't see.
"It's just good to know," Edward said. "Alice has been itching for a shopping partner, and I'm sure Bella would love to see some city lights." He smiled at me.
But Charlie growled, "No!" and his face flushed purple. "Dad! What's the problem?"
He made an effort to unclench his teeth. "I don't want you going to Seattle right now." "Huh?"
"I told you about that story in the paper - there's some kind of gang on a killing spree in Seattle and I want you to steer clear, okay?"
I rolled my eyes. "Dad, there's a better chance that I'll get struck by lightning than that the one day I'm in Seattle -"
"No, that's fine, Charlie," Edward said, interrupting me. "I didn't mean Seattle. I was thinking Portland, actually. I wouldn't have Bella in Seattle, either. Of course not."
I looked at him in disbelief, but he had Charlie's newspaper in his hands and he was reading the front page intently.
He must have been trying to appease my father. The idea of being in danger from even the most deadly of humans while I was with Alice or Edward was downright hilarious.
It worked. Charlie stared at Edward for one second more, and then shrugged. "Fine." He stalked off toward the living room, in a bit of a hurry now - maybe he didn't want to miss tip-off.
I waited till the TV was on, so that Charlie wouldn't be able to hear me. "What -," I started to ask.
"Hold on," Edward said without looking up from the paper. His eyes stayed focused on the page as he pushed the first application toward me across the table. "I think you can recycle your essays for this one. Same questions."
Charlie must still be listening. I sighed and started to fill out the repetitive information: name, address, social. After a few minutes I glanced up, but Edward was now staring pensively
out the window. As I bent my head back to my work, I noticed for the first time the name of the school.
I snorted and shoved the papers aside. "Bella?"
"Be serious, Edward. Dartmouth ?"
Edward lifted the discarded application and laid it gently in front of me again. "I think you'd like New Hampshire," he said. "There's a full complement of night courses for me, and the forests are very conveniently located for the avid hiker. Plentiful wildlife." He pulled out the crooked smile he knew I couldn't resist.
I took a deep breath through my nose.
"I'll let you pay me back, if that makes you happy," he promised. "If you want, I can charge you interest."
"Like I could even get in without some enormous bribe. Or was that part of the loan? The new Cullen wing of the library? Ugh. Why are we having this discussion again?"
"Will you just fill out the application, please, Bella? It won't hurt you to apply." My jaw flexed. "You know what? I don't think I will."
I reached for the papers, planning to crumple them into a suitable shape for lobbing at the trashcan, but they were already gone. I stared at the empty table for a moment, and then at Edward. He didn't appear to have moved, but the application was probably already tucked away in his jacket.
"What are you doing?" I demanded.
"I sign your name better than you do yourself. You've already written the essays."
"You're going way overboard with this, you know." I whispered on the off chance that Charlie wasn't completely lost in his game. "I really don't need to apply anywhere else. I've been accepted in Alaska. I can almost afford the first semester's tuition. It's as good an alibi as any. There's no need to throw away a bunch of money, no matter whose it is."
A pained looked tightened his face. "Bella -"
"Don't start. I agree that I need to go through the motions for Charlie's sake, but we both know I'm not going to be in any condition to go to school next fall. To be anywhere near people."
My knowledge of those first few years as a new vampire was sketchy. Edward had never gone into details - it wasn't his favorite subject - but I knew it wasn't pretty. Self-control was apparently an acquired skill. Anything more than correspondence school was out of the question.
"I thought the timing was still undecided," Edward reminded me softly. "You might enjoy a semester or two of college. There are a lot of human experiences you've never had."
"I'll get to those afterward."
"They won't be human experiences afterward. You don't get a second chance at humanity, Bella."
I sighed. "You've got to be reasonable about the timing, Edward. It's just too dangerous to mess around with."
"There's no danger yet," he insisted.
I glared at him. No danger? Sure. I only had a sadistic vampire trying to avenge her mate's death with my own, preferably through some slow and torturous method. Who was worried about Victoria? And, oh yeah, the Volturi - the vampire royal family with their small army of vampire warriors - who insisted that my heart stop beating one way or another in the near future, because humans weren't allowed to know they existed. Right. No reason at all to panic.
Even with Alice keeping watch - Edward was relying on her uncannily accurate visions of the future to give us advance warning - it was insane to take chances.
Besides, I'd already won this argument. The date for my transformation was tentatively set for shortly after my graduation from high school, only a handful of weeks away.
A sharp jolt of unease pierced my stomach as I realized how short the time really was. Of course this change was necessary - and the key to what I wanted more than everything else in the world put together - but I was deeply conscious of Charlie sitting in the other room enjoying his game, just like every other night. And my mother, Renée, far away in sunny Florida, still pleading with me to spend the summer on the beach with her and her new husband. And Jacob, who, unlike my parents, would know exactly what was going on when I disappeared to some distant school. Even if my parents didn't grow suspicious for a long time, even if I could put off visits with excuses about travel expenses or study loads or illnesses, Jacob would know the truth.
For a moment, the idea of Jacob's certain revulsion overshadowed every other pain.
"Bella," Edward murmured, his face twisting when he read the distress in mine. "There's no hurry. I won't let anyone hurt you. You can take all the time you need."
"I want to hurry," I whispered, smiling weakly, trying to make a joke of it. "I want to be a monster, too."
His teeth clenched; he spoke through them. "You have no idea what you're saying." Abruptly, he flung the damp newspaper onto the table in between us. His finger stabbed the headline on the front page:
DEATH TOLL ON THE RISE, POLICE FEAR GANG ACTIVITY
"What does that have to do with anything?" "Monsters are not a joke, Bella."
I stared at the headline again, and then up to his hard expression. "A . . . a vampire is doing this?" I whispered.
He smiled without humor. His voice was low and cold. "You'd be surprised, Bella, at how often my kind are the source behind the horrors in your human news. It's easy to recognize, when you know what to look for. The information here indicates a newborn vampire is loose in Seattle. Bloodthirsty, wild, out of control. The way we all were."
I let my gaze drop to the paper again, avoiding his eyes.
"We've been monitoring the situation for a few weeks. All the signs are there - the unlikely disappearances, always in the night, the poorly disposed-of corpses, the lack of other evidence. Yes, someone brand-new. And no one seems to be taking responsibility for the
neophyte. . . ." He took a deep breath. "Well, it's not our problem. We wouldn't even pay attention to the situation if wasn't going on so close to home. Like I said, this happens all the time. The existence of monsters results in monstrous consequences."
I tried not to see the names on the page, but they jumped out from the rest of the print like they were in bold. The five people whose lives were over, whose families were mourning now. It was different from considering murder in the abstract, reading those names. Maureen Gardiner, Geoffrey Campbell, Grace Razi, Michelle O'Connell, Ronald Albrook. People who'd had parents and children and friends and pets and jobs and hopes and plans and memories and futures. . . .
"It won't be the same for me," I whispered, half to myself. "You won't let me be like that. We'll live in Antarctica."
Edward snorted, breaking the tension. "Penguins. Lovely."
I laughed a shaky laugh and knocked the paper off the table so I wouldn't have to see those names; it hit the linoleum with a thud. Of course Edward would consider the hunting possibilities. He and his "vegetarian" family - all committed to protecting human life - preferred the flavor of large predators for satisfying their dietary needs. "Alaska, then, as
planned. Only somewhere much more remote than Juneau - somewhere with grizzlies galore."
"Better," he allowed. "There are polar bears, too. Very fierce. And the wolves get quite large."
My mouth fell open and my breath blew out in a sharp gust.
"What's wrong?" he asked. Before I could recover, the confusion vanished and his whole body seemed to harden. "Oh. Never mind the wolves, then, if the idea is offensive to you." His voice was stiff, formal, his shoulders rigid.
"He was my best friend, Edward," I muttered. It stung to use the past tense. "Of course the idea offends me."
"Please forgive my thoughtlessness," he said, still very formal. "I shouldn't have suggested that."
"Don't worry about it." I stared at my hands, clenched into a double fist on the table.
We were both silent for a moment, and then his cool finger was under my chin, coaxing my face up. His expression was much softer now.
"Sorry. Really."
"I know. I know it's not the same thing. I shouldn't have reacted that way. It's just that . . . well, I was already thinking about Jacob before you came over." I hesitated. His tawny eyes seemed to get a little bit darker whenever I said Jacob's name. My voice turned pleading in response. "Charlie says Jake is having a hard time. He's hurting right now, and . . . it's my fault."
"You've done nothing wrong, Bella."
I took a deep breath. "I need to make it better, Edward. I owe him that. And it's one of Charlie's conditions, anyway -"
His face changed while I spoke, turning hard again, statue-like.
"You know it's out of the question for you to be around a werewolf unprotected, Bella. And it would break the treaty if any of us cross over onto their land. Do you want us to start a war?"
"Of course not!"
"Then there's really no point in discussing the matter further." He dropped his hand and looked away, searching for a subject change. His eyes paused on something behind me, and he smiled, though his eyes stayed wary.
"I'm glad Charlie has decided to let you out - you're sadly in need of a visit to the bookstore. I can't believe you're reading Wuthering Heights again. Don't you know it by heart yet?"
"Not all of us have photographic memories," I said curtly.
"Photographic memory or not, I don't understand why you like it. The characters are ghastly people who ruin each others' lives. I don't know how Heathcliff and Cathy ended up being ranked with couples like Romeo and Juliet or Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. It isn't a love story, it's a hate story."
"You have some serious issues with the classics," I snapped.
"Perhaps it's because I'm not impressed by antiquity." He smiled, evidently satisfied that he'd distracted me. "Honestly, though, whydo you read it over and over?" His eyes were vivid with real interest now, trying - again - to unravel the convoluted workings of my mind. He reached across the table to cradle my face in his hand. "What is it that appeals to you?"
His sincere curiosity disarmed me. "I'm not sure," I said, scrambling for coherency while his gaze unintentionally scattered my thoughts. "I think it's something about the inevitability. How nothing can keep them apart - not her selfishness, or his evil, or even death, in the end.
. . ."
His face was thoughtful as he considered my words. After a moment he smiled a teasing smile. "I still think it would be a better story if either of them had one redeeming quality."
"I think that may be the point," I disagreed. "Their love is their only redeeming quality." "I hope you have better sense than that - to fall in love with someone so . . . malignant."
"It's a bit late for me to worry about who I fall in love with," I pointed out. "But even without the warning, I seem to have managed fairly well."
He laughed quietly. "I'm glad you think so."
"Well, I hope you're smart enough to stay away from someone so selfish. Catherine is really the source of all the trouble, not Heathcliff."
"I'll be on my guard," he promised.
I sighed. He was so good at distractions.
I put my hand over his to hold it to my face. "I need to see Jacob." His eyes closed. "No."
"It's truly not dangerous at all," I said, pleading again. "I used to spend all day in La Push with the whole lot of them, and nothing ever happened."
But I made a slip; my voice faltered at the end because I realized as I was saying the words that they were a lie. It was not true that nothing had ever happened. A brief flash of memory
- an enormous gray wolf crouched to spring, baring his dagger-like teeth at me - had my palms sweating with an echo of remembered panic.
Edward heard my heart accelerate and nodded as if I'd acknowledged the lie aloud. "Werewolves are unstable. Sometimes, the people near them get hurt. Sometimes, they get killed."
I wanted to deny it, but another image slowed my rebuttal. I saw in my head the once beautiful face of Emily Young, now marred by a trio of dark scars that dragged down the corner of her right eye and left her mouth warped forever into a lopsided scowl.
He waited, grimly triumphant, for me to find my voice. "You don't know them," I whispered.
"I know them better than you think, Bella. I was here the last time." "The last time?"
"We started crossing paths with the wolves about seventy years ago. We had just settled
near Hoquiam. That was before Alice and Jasper were with us. We outnumbered them, but that wouldn't have stopped it from turning into a fight if not for Carlisle. He managed to convince Ephraim Black that coexisting was possible, and eventually we made the truce."
Jacob's great-grandfather's name startled me.
"We thought the line had died out with Ephraim," Edward muttered; it sounded like he was talking to himself now. "That the genetic quirk which allowed the transmutation had been lost. " He broke off and stared at me accusingly. "Your bad luck seems to get more potent
every day. Do you realize that your insatiable pull for all things deadly was strong enough to recover a pack of mutant canines from extinction? If we could bottle your luck, we'd have a weapon of mass destruction on our hands."
I ignored the ribbing, my attention caught by his assumption - was he serious? "ButI didn't bring them back. Don't you know?"
"Know what?"
"My bad luck had nothing to do with it. The werewolves came back because the vampires did."
Edward stared at me, his body motionless with surprise.
"Jacob told me that your family being here set things in motion. I thought you would already know. "
His eyes narrowed. "Is that what they think?"
"Edward, look at the facts. Seventy years ago, you came here, and the werewolves showed up. You come back now, and the werewolves show up again. Do you think that's a coincidence?"
He blinked and his glare relaxed. "Carlisle will be interested in that theory." "Theory," I scoffed.
He was silent for a moment, staring out the window into the rain; I imagined he was contemplating the fact that his family's presence was turning the locals into giant dogs.
"Interesting, but not exactly relevant," he murmured after a moment. "The situation remains the same."
I could translate that easily enough: no werewolf friends.
I knew I must be patient with Edward. It wasn't that he was unreasonable, it was just that he didn't understand. He had no idea how very much I owed Jacob Black - my life many times over, and possibly my sanity, too.
I didn't like to talk about that barren time with anyone, and especially not Edward. He had only been trying to save me when he'd left, trying to save my soul. I didn't hold him responsible for all the stupid things I'd done in his absence, or the pain I had suffered.
He did.
So I would have to word my explanation very carefully.
I got up and walked around the table. He opened his arms for me and I sat on his lap, nestling into his cool stone embrace. I looked at his hands while I spoke.
"Please just listen for a minute. This is so much more important than some whim to drop in on an old friend. Jacob is in pain ." My voice distorted around the word. "I can't not try to help him - I can't give up on him now, when he needs me. Just because he's not human all the time. . . . Well, he was there for me when I was . . . not so human myself. You don't know what it was like. " I hesitated. Edward's arms were rigid around me; his hands were
in fists now, the tendons standing out. "If Jacob hadn't helped me I'm not sure what you
would have come home to. I owe him better than this, Edward."
I looked up at his face warily. His eyes were closed, and his jaw was strained.
"I'll never forgive myself for leaving you," he whispered. "Not if I live a hundred thousand years."
I put my hand against his cold face and waited until he sighed and opened his eyes.
"You were just trying to do the right thing. And I'm sure it would have worked with anyone less mental than me. Besides, you're here now. That's the part that matters."
"If I'd never left, you wouldn't feel the need to go risk your life to comfort a dog ."
I flinched. I was used to Jacob and all his derogatory slurs -bloodsucker, leech, parasite . . . . Somehow it sounded harsher in Edward's velvet voice.
"I don't know how to phrase this properly," Edward said, and his tone was bleak. "It's going to sound cruel, I suppose. But I've come too close to losing you in the past. I know what it feels like to think I have. I am not going to tolerate anything dangerous."
"You have to trust me on this. I'll be fine."
His face was pained again. "Please, Bella," he whispered.
I stared into his suddenly burning golden eyes. "Please what?"
"Please, for me. Please make a conscious effort to keep yourself safe. I'll do everything I can, but I would appreciate a little help."
"I'll work on it," I murmured.
"Do you really have any idea how important you are to me? Any concept at all of how much I love you?" He pulled me tighter against his hard chest, tucking my head under his chin.
I pressed my lips against his snow-cold neck. "I know how much I love you ," I answered. "You compare one small tree to the entire forest."
I rolled my eyes, but he couldn't see. "Impossible." He kissed the top of my head and sighed.
"No werewolves."
"I'm not going along with that. I have to see Jacob." "Then I'll have to stop you."
He sounded utterly confident that this wouldn't be a problem. I was sure he was right.
"We'll see about that," I bluffed anyway. "He's still my friend."
I could feel Jacob's note in my pocket, like it suddenly weighed ten pounds. I could hear the words in his voice, and he seemed to be agreeing with Edward - something that would never
happen in reality.
Doesn't change anything. Sorry.
2. EVASION
I FELT ODDLY BUOYANT AS I WALKED FROM SPANISH toward the cafeteria, and it wasn't just because I was holding hands with the most perfect person on the planet, though that was certainly part of it.
Maybe it was the knowledge that my sentence was served and I was a free woman again.
Or maybe it wasn't anything to do with me specifically. Maybe it was the atmosphere of freedom that hung over the entire campus. School was winding down, and, for the senior class especially, there was a perceptible thrill in the air.
Freedom was so close it was touchable, taste-able. Signs of it were everywhere. Posters crowded together on the cafeteria walls, and the trashcans wore a colorful skirt of spilled-over fliers: reminders to buy yearbooks, class rings, and announcements; deadlines to order graduation gowns, hats, and tassels; neon-bright sales pitches - the juniors campaigning for class office; ominous, rose-wreathed advertisements for this year's prom. The big dance was this coming weekend, but I had an ironclad promise from Edward that I would not be subjected to that again. After all, I'd already had that human experience.
No, it must be my personal freedom that lightened me today. The ending of the school year did not give me the pleasure it seemed to give the other students. Actually, I felt nervous to the point of nausea whenever I thought of it. I tried to not think of it.
But it was hard to escape such an omnipresent topic as graduation.
"Have you sent your announcements, yet?" Angela asked when Edward and I sat down at our table. She had her light brown hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail instead of her usual smooth hairdo, and there was a slightly frantic look about her eyes.
Alice and Ben were already there, too, on either side of Angela. Ben was intent over a comic book, his glasses sliding down his narrow nose. Alice was scrutinizing my boring jeans-and-a-t-shirt outfit in a way that made me self-conscious. Probably plotting another makeover. I sighed. My indifferent attitude to fashion was a constant thorn in her side. If I'd allow it, she'd love to dress me every day - perhaps several times a day - like some oversized three-dimensional paper doll.
"No," I answered Angela. "There's no point, really. Renée knows when I'm graduating. Who else is there?"
"How about you, Alice?" Alice smiled. "All done."
"Lucky you." Angela sighed. "My mother has a thousand cousins and she expects me to hand-address one to everybody. I'm going to get carpal tunnel. I can't put it off any longer
and I'm just dreading it."
"I'll help you," I volunteered. "If you don't mind my awful handwriting."
Charlie would like that. From the corner of my eye, I saw Edward smile. He must like that, too - me fulfilling Charlie's conditions without involving werewolves.
Angela looked relieved. "That's so nice of you. I'll come over any time you want."
"Actually, I'd rather go to your house if that's okay - I'm sick of mine. Charlie un-grounded me last night." I grinned as I announced my good news.
"Really?" Angela asked, mild excitement lighting her always-gentle brown eyes. "I thought you said you were in for life."
"I'm more surprised than you are. I was sure I would at least have finished high school before he set me free."
"Well, this is great, Bella! We'll have to go out to celebrate." "You have no idea how good that sounds."
"What should we do?" Alice mused, her face lighting up at the possibilities. Alice's ideas were usually a little grandiose for me, and I could see it in her eyes now - the tendency to take things too far kicking into action.
"Whatever you're thinking, Alice, I doubt I'm that free." "Free is free, right?" she insisted.
"I'm sure I still have boundaries - like the continental U.S., for example." Angela and Ben laughed, but Alice grimaced in real disappointment. "So what are we doing tonight?" she persisted.
"Nothing. Look, let's give it a couple of days to make sure he wasn't joking. It's a school night, anyway."
"We'll celebrate this weekend, then." Alice's enthusiasm was impossible to repress.
"Sure," I said, hoping to placate her. I knew I wasn't going to do anything too outlandish; it would be safer to take it slow with Charlie. Give him a chance to appreciate how trustworthy and mature I was before I asked for any favors.
Angela and Alice started talking about options; Ben joined the conversation, setting his comics aside. My attention drifted. I was surprised to find that the subject of my freedom was suddenly not as gratifying as it had been just a moment ago. While they discussed things to
do in Port Angeles or maybe Hoquiam, I began to feel disgruntled.
It didn't take long to determine where my restlessness stemmed from.
Ever since I'd said goodbye to Jacob Black in the forest outside my home, I'd been plagued by a persistent, uncomfortable intrusion of a specific mental picture. It popped into my thoughts at regular intervals like some annoying alarm clock set to sound every half hour, filling my head with the image of Jacob's face crumpled in pain. This was the last memory I had of him.
As the disturbing vision struck again, I knew exactly why I was dissatisfied with my liberty. Because it was incomplete.
Sure, I was free to go to anywhere I wanted - except La Push; free to do anything I wanted - except see Jacob. I frowned at the table. There had to be some kind of middle ground.
"Alice? Alice!"
Angela's voice yanked me from my reverie. She was waving her hand back and forth in front of Alice's blank, staring face. Alice's expression was something I recognized - an expression that sent an automatic shock of panic through my body. The vacant look in her eyes told me that she was seeing something very different from the mundane lunchroom scene that surrounded us, but something that was every bit as real in its own way. Something that was coming, something that would happen soon. I felt the blood slither from my face.
Then Edward laughed, a very natural, relaxed sound. Angela and Ben looked toward him, but my eyes were locked on Alice. She jumped suddenly, as if someone had kicked her under the table.
"Is it naptime already, Alice?" Edward teased.
Alice was herself again. "Sorry, I was daydreaming, I guess." "Daydreaming's better than facing two more hours of school," Ben said.
Alice threw herself back into the conversation with more animation than before - just a little bit too much. Once I saw her eyes lock with Edward's, only for a moment, and then she looked back to Angela before anyone else noticed. Edward was quiet, playing absentmindedly with a strand of my hair.
I waited anxiously for a chance to ask Edward what Alice had seen in her vision, but the afternoon passed without one minute of alone time.
It felt odd to me, almost deliberate. After lunch, Edward slowed his pace to match Ben's, talking about some assignment I knew he'd already finished. Then there was always someone else there between classes, though we usually had a few minutes to ourselves. When the final bell rang, Edward struck up a conversation with Mike Newton of all people, falling into step
beside him as Mike headed for the parking lot. I trailed behind, letting Edward tow me along.
I listened, confused, while Mike answered Edward's unusually friendly queries. It seemed Mike was having car troubles.
". . . but I just replaced the battery," Mike was saying. His eyes darted ahead and then back to Edward warily. Mystified, just like I was.
"Perhaps it's the cables?" Edward offered.
"Maybe. I really don't know anything about cars," Mike admitted. "I need to have someone look at it, but I can't afford to take it to Dowling's."
I opened my mouth to suggest my mechanic, and then snapped it shut again. My mechanic was busy these days - busy running around as a giant wolf.
"I know a few things - I could take a look, if you like," Edward offered. "Just let me drop Alice and Bella at home."
Mike and I both stared at Edward with our mouths hanging open.
"Er . . . thanks," Mike mumbled when he recovered. "But I have to get to work. Maybe some other time."
"Absolutely."
"See ya." Mike climbed into his car, shaking his head in disbelief. Edward's Volvo, with Alice already inside, was just two cars away.
"What was that about?" I muttered as Edward held the passenger door for me. "Just being helpful," Edward answered.
And then Alice, waiting in the backseat, was babbling at top speed.
"You're really not that good a mechanic, Edward. Maybe you should have Rosalie take a look at it tonight, just so you look good if Mike decides to let you help, you know. Not that it wouldn't be fun to watch his face if Rosalie showed up to help. But since Rosalie is supposed to be across the country attending college, I guess that's not the best idea. Too bad. Though I suppose, for Mike's car, you'll do. It's only within the finer tunings of a good Italian sports car that you're out of your depth. And speaking of Italy and sports cars that I stole there, you still owe me a yellow Porsche. I don't know that I want to wait for Christmas. "
I stopped listening after a minute, letting her quick voice become just a hum in the background as I settled into my patient mode.
It looked to me like Edward was trying to avoid my questions. Fine. He would have to be
alone with me soon enough. It was only a matter of time.
Edward seemed to realize that, too. He dropped Alice at the mouth of the Cullens' drive as usual, though by this point I half expected him to drive her to the door and walk her in.
As she got out, Alice threw a sharp look at his face. Edward seemed completely at ease. "See you later," he said. And then, ever so slightly, he nodded.
Alice turned to disappear into the trees.
He was quiet as he turned the car around and headed back to Forks. I waited, wondering if he would bring it up himself. He didn't, and this made me tense. What had Alice seen today at lunch? Something he didn't want to tell me, and I tried to think of a reason why he would keep secrets. Maybe it would be better to prepare myself before I asked. I didn't want to freak out and have him think I couldn't handle it, whatever it was.
So we were both silent until we got to back to Charlie's house. "Light homework load tonight," he commented.
"Mmm," I assented.
"Do you suppose I'm allowed inside again?"
"Charlie didn't throw a fit when you picked me up for school."
But I was sure Charlie was going to turn sulky fast when he got home and found Edward here. Maybe I should make something extra-special for dinner.
Inside, I headed up the stairs, and Edward followed. He lounged on my bed and gazed out the window, seeming oblivious to my edginess.
I stowed my bag and turned the computer on. There was an unanswered e-mail from my mom to attend to, and she got panicky when I took too long. I drummed my fingers as I waited for my decrepit computer to wheeze awake; they snapped against the desk, staccato and anxious.
And then his fingers were on mine, holding them still. "Are we a little impatient today?" he murmured.
I looked up, intending to make a sarcastic remark, but his face was closer than I'd expected. His golden eyes were smoldering, just inches away, and his breath was cool against my open lips. I could taste his scent on my tongue.
I couldn't remember the witty response I'd been about to make. I couldn't remember my name.
He didn't give me a chance to recover.
If I had my way, I would spend the majority of my time kissing Edward. There wasn't anything I'd experienced in my life that compared to the feeling of his cool lips, marble hard but always so gentle, moving with mine.
I didn't often get my way.
So it surprised me a little when his fingers braided themselves into my hair, securing my face to his. My arms locked behind his neck, and I wished I was stronger - strong enough to keep him prisoner here. One hand slid down my back, pressing me tighter against his stone chest. Even through his sweater, his skin was cold enough to make me shiver - it was a shiver of pleasure, of happiness, but his hands began to loosen in response.
I knew I had about three seconds before he would sigh and slide me deftly away, saying something about how we'd risked my life enough for one afternoon. Making the most of my last seconds, I crushed myself closer, molding myself to the shape of him. The tip of my tongue traced the curve of his lower lip; it was as flawlessly smooth as if it had been polished, and the taste -
He pulled my face away from his, breaking my hold with ease - he probably didn't even realize that I was using all my strength.
He chuckled once, a low, throaty sound. His eyes were bright with the excitement he so rigidly disciplined.
"Ah, Bella." He sighed.
"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not."
"And I should feel sorry that you're not sorry, but I don't. Maybe I should go sit on the bed." I exhaled a little dizzily. "If you think that's necessary. "
He smiled crookedly and disentangled himself.
I shook my head a few times, trying to clear it, and turned back to my computer. It was all warmed up and humming now. Well, not as much humming as groaning.
"Tell Renée I said hello." "Sure thing."
I scanned through Renée's e-mail, shaking my head now and then at some of the dippier things she'd done. I was just as entertained and horrified as the first time I'd read this. It was so like my mother to forget exactly how paralyzed she was by heights until she was already strapped to a parachute and a dive instructor. I felt a little frustrated with Phil, her husband
of almost two years, for allowing that one. I would have taken better care of her. I knew her so much better.
You have to let them go their own way eventually, I reminded myself. You have to let them have their own life. . . .
I'd spent most of my life taking care of Renée, patiently guiding her away from her craziest plans, good-naturedly enduring the ones I couldn't talk her out of. I'd always been indulgent with my mom, amused by her, even a little condescending to her. I saw her cornucopia of mistakes and laughed privately to myself. Scatterbrained Renée.
I was a very different person from my mother. Someone thoughtful and cautious. The responsible one, the grown-up. That's how I saw myself. That was the person I knew.
With the blood still pounding in my head from Edward's kiss, I couldn't help but think of my mother's most life-altering mistake. Silly and romantic, getting married fresh out of high school to a man she barely knew, then producing me a year later. She'd always promised me that she had no regrets, that I was the best gift her life had ever given her. And yet she'd drilled it into me over and over - smart people took marriage seriously. Mature people went to college and started careers before they got deeply involved in a relationship. She knew I would never be as thoughtless and goofy and small-town as she'd been. . . .
I gritted my teeth and tried to concentrate as I answered her letter.
Then I hit her parting line and remembered why I'd neglected to write sooner.
You haven't said anything about Jacob in a long time, she'd written. What's he up to these days?
Charlie was prompting her, I was sure.
I sighed and typed quickly, tucking the answer to her question between two less sensitive paragraphs.
Jacob is fine, I guess. I don't see him much; he spends most of his time with a pack of his friends down at La Push these days.
Smiling wryly to myself, I added Edward's greeting and hit "send."
I didn't realize that Edward was standing silently behind me again until after I'd turned off the computer and shoved away from the desk. I was about to scold him for reading over my shoulder when I realized that he wasn't paying any attention to me. He was examining a flat black box with wires curling crookedly away from the main square in a way that didn't look healthy for whatever it was. After a second, I recognized the car stereo Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper had given me for my last birthday. I'd forgotten about the birthday presents hiding under a growing pile of dust on the floor of my closet.
"What did you do to this?" he asked in a horrorstruck voice. "It didn't want to come out of the dashboard."
"So you felt the need to torture it?"
"You know how I am with tools. No pain was inflicted intentionally." He shook his head, his face a mask of faux tragedy. "You killed it."
I shrugged. "Oh, well."
"It would hurt their feelings if they saw this," he said. "I guess it's a good thing that you've been on house arrest. I'll have to get another one in place before they notice."
"Thanks, but I don't need a fancy stereo."
"It's not for your sake that I'm going to replace it." I sighed.
"You didn't get much good out of your birthday presents last year," he said in a disgruntled voice. Suddenly, he was fanning himself with a stiff rectangle of paper.
I didn't answer, for fear my voice would shake. My disastrous eighteenth birthday - with all its far-reaching consequences - wasn't something I cared to remember, and I was surprised that he would bring it up. He was even more sensitive about it than I was.
"Do you realize these are about to expire?" he asked, holding the paper out to me. It was another present - the voucher for airplane tickets that Esme and Carlisle had given me so that I could visit Renée in Florida.
I took a deep breath and answered in a flat voice. "No. I'd forgotten all about them, actually."
His expression was carefully bright and positive; there was no trace of any deep emotion as he continued. "Well, we still have a little time. You've been liberated . . . and we have no plans this weekend, as you refuse to go to the prom with me." He grinned. "Why not celebrate your freedom this way?"
I gasped. "By going to Florida?"
"You did say something about the continental U.S. being allowable."
I glared at him, suspicious, trying to understand where this had come from. "Well?" he demanded. "Are we going to see Renée or not?"
"Charlie will never allow it."
"Charlie can't keep you from visiting your mother. She still has primary custody." "Nobody has custody of me. I'm an adult."
He flashed a brilliant smile. "Exactly."
I thought it over for a short minute before deciding that it wasn't worth the fight. Charlie would be furious - not that I was going to see Renée, but that Edward was going with me. Charlie wouldn't speak to me for months, and I'd probably end up grounded again. It was definitely smarter not to even bring it up. Maybe in a few weeks, as a graduation favor or something.
But the idea of seeing my mother now, not weeks from now, was hard to resist. It had been so long since I'd seen Renée. And even longer since I'd seen her under pleasant circumstances. The last time I'd been with her in Phoenix, I'd spent the whole time in a hospital bed. The last time she'd come here, I'd been more or less catatonic. Not exactly the best memories to leave her with.
And maybe, if she saw how happy I was with Edward, she would tell Charlie to ease up. Edward scrutinized my face while I deliberated.
I sighed. "Not this weekend." "Why not?"
"I don't want to fight with Charlie. Not so soon after he's forgiven me."
His eyebrows pulled together. "I think this weekend is perfect," he muttered. I shook my head. "Another time."
"You aren't the only one who's been trapped in this house, you know." He frowned at me.
Suspicion returned. This kind of behavior was unlike him. He was always so impossibly selfless; I knew it was making me spoiled.
"You can go anywhere you want," I pointed out.
"The outside world holds no interest for me without you." I rolled my eyes at the hyperbole.
"I'm serious," he said.
"Let's take the outside world slowly, all right? For example, we could start with a movie in Port Angeles. "
He groaned. "Never mind. We'll talk about it later." "There's nothing left to talk about."
He shrugged.
"Okay, then, new subject," I said. I'd almost forgotten my worries about this afternoon - had that been his intention? "What did Alice see today at lunch?"
My eyes were fixed on his face as I spoke, measuring his reaction.
His expression was composed; there was only the slightest hardening of his topaz eyes. "She's been seeing Jasper in a strange place, somewhere in the southwest, she thinks, near his former . . . family. But he has no conscious intentions to go back." He sighed. "It's got her worried."
"Oh." That was nothing close to what I'd been expecting. But of course it made sense that Alice would be watching out for Jasper's future. He was her soul mate, her true other half, though they weren't as flamboyant about their relationship as Rosalie and Emmett were. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
"I didn't realize you'd noticed," he said. "It's probably nothing important, in any case."
My imagination was sadly out of control. I'd taken a perfectly normal afternoon and twisted it until it looked like Edward was going out of his way to keep things from me. I needed therapy.
We went downstairs to work on our homework, just in case Charlie showed up early. Edward finished in minutes; I slogged laboriously through my calculus until I decided it was time to fix Charlie's dinner. Edward helped, making faces every so often at the raw ingredients - human food was mildly repulsive to him. I made stroganoff from Grandma Swan's recipe, because I was sucking up. It wasn't one of my favorites, but it would please Charlie.
Charlie seemed to already be in a good mood when he got home. He didn't even go out of his way to be rude to Edward. Edward excused himself from eating with us, as usual. The sound of the nightly news drifted from the front room, but I doubted Edward was really watching.
After forcing down three helpings, Charlie kicked his feet up on the spare chair and folded his hands contentedly across his distended stomach.
"That was great, Bells."
"I'm glad you liked it. How was work?" He'd been eating with too much concentration for me to make conversation before.
"Sort of slow. Well, dead slow really. Mark and I played cards for a good part of the
afternoon," he admitted with a grin. "I won, nineteen hands to seven. And then I was on the phone with Billy for a while."
I tried to keep my expression the same. "How is he?" "Good, good. His joints are bothering him a little." "Oh. That's too bad."
"Yeah. He invited us down to visit this weekend. He was thinking of having the Clearwaters and the Uleys over too. Sort of a playoff party. "
"Huh," was my genius response. But what could I say? I knew I wouldn't be allowed to hit a werewolf party, even with parental supervision. I wondered if Edward would have a problem with Charlie hanging out in La Push. Or would he suppose that, since Charlie was mostly spending time with Billy, who was only human, my father wouldn't be in danger?
I got up and piled the dishes together without looking at Charlie. I dumped them into the sink and started the water. Edward appeared silently and grabbed a dishtowel.
Charlie sighed and gave up for the moment, though I imagined he would revisit the subject when we were alone again. He heaved himself to his feet and headed for the TV, just like every other night.
"Charlie," Edward said in a conversational tone.
Charlie stopped in the middle of his little kitchen. "Yeah?"
"Did Bella ever tell you that my parents gave her airplane tickets on her last birthday, so that she could visit Renée?"
I dropped the plate I was scrubbing. It glanced off the counter and clattered noisily to the floor. It didn't break, but it spattered the room, and all three of us, with soapy water. Charlie didn't even seem to notice.
"Bella?" he asked in a stunned voice.
I kept my eyes on the plate as I retrieved it. "Yeah, they did."
Charlie swallowed loudly, and then his eyes narrowed as he turned back to Edward. "No, she never mentioned it."
"Hmm," Edward murmured.
"Was there a reason you brought it up?" Charlie asked in a hard voice.
Edward shrugged. "They're about to expire. I think it might hurt Esme's feelings if Bella doesn't use her gift. Not that she'd say anything."
I stared at Edward in disbelief.
Charlie thought for a minute. "It's probably a good idea for you to visit your mom, Bella. She'd love that. I'm surprised you didn't say anything about this, though."
"I forgot," I admitted.
He frowned. "You forgot that someone gave you plane tickets?" "Mmm," I murmured vaguely, and turned back to the sink.
"I noticed that you said they're about to expire, Edward," Charlie went on. "How many tickets did your parents give her?"
"Just one for her . . . and one for me."
The plate I dropped this time landed in the sink, so it didn't make as much noise. I could easily hear the sharp huff as my father exhaled. The blood rushed into my face, fueled by irritation and chagrin. Why was Edward doing this? I glared at the bubbles in the sink, panicking.
"That's out of the question!" Charlie was abruptly in a rage, shouting the words.
"Why?" Edward asked, his voice saturated with innocent surprise. "You just said it was a good idea for her to see her mother."
Charlie ignored him. "You're not going anywhere with him, young lady!" he yelled. I spun around and he was jabbing a finger at me.
Anger pulsed through me automatically, an instinctive reaction to his tone. "I'm not a child, Dad. And I'm not grounded anymore, remember?"
"Oh yes, you are. Starting now." "For what?!"
"Because I said so."
"Do I need to remind you that I'm a legal adult, Charlie?" "This is my house - you follow my rules!"
My glare turned icy. "If that's how you want it. Do you want me to move out tonight? Or can I have a few days to pack?"
Charlie's face went bright red. I instantly felt horrible for playing the move-out card.
I took a deep breath and tried to make my tone more reasonable. "I'll do my time without complaining when I've done something wrong, Dad, but I'm not going to put up with your prejudices."
He sputtered, but managed nothing coherent.
"Now, I know that you know that I have every right to see Mom for the weekend. You can't honestly tell me you'd object to the plan if I was going with Alice or Angela."
"Girls," he grunted, with a nod. "Would it bother you if I took Jacob?"
I'd only picked the name because I knew of my father's preference for Jacob, but I quickly wished I hadn't; Edward's teeth clenched together with an audible snap.
My father struggled to compose himself before he answered. "Yes," he said in an unconvincing voice. "That would bother me."
"You're a rotten liar, Dad." "Bella -"
"It's not like I'm headed off to Vegas to be a showgirl or anything. I'm going to see Mom," I reminded him. "She's just as much my parental authority as you are."
He threw me a withering look.
"Are you implying something about Mom's ability to look after me?" Charlie flinched at the threat implicit in my question.
"You'd better hope I don't mention this to her," I said.
"You'd better not," he warned. "I'm not happy about this, Bella." "There's no reason for you to be upset."
He rolled his eyes, but I could tell the storm was over.
I turned to pull the plug out of the sink. "So my homework is done, your dinner is done, the dishes are done, and I'm not grounded. I'm going out. I'll be back before ten-thirty."
"Where are you going?" His face, almost back to normal, flushed light red again. "I'm not sure," I admitted. "I'll keep it within a ten-mile radius, though. Okay?"
He grunted something that did not sound like approval, and stalked out of the room.
Naturally, as soon as I'd won the fight, I began to feel guilty. "We're going out?" Edward asked, his voice low but enthusiastic.
I turned to glower at him. "Yes. I think I'd like to speak to you alone ." He didn't look as apprehensive as I thought he should.
I waited to begin until we were safely in his car. "What was that ?" I demanded.
"I know you want to see your mother, Bella - you've been talking about her in your sleep. Worrying actually."
"I have?"
He nodded. "But, clearly, you were too much of a coward to deal with Charlie, so I interceded on your behalf."
"Interceded? You threw me to the sharks!"
He rolled his eyes. "I don't think you were in any danger." "I told you I didn't want to fight with Charlie."
"Nobody said that you had to."
I glowered at him. "I can't help myself when he gets all bossy like that - my natural teenage instincts overpower me."
He chuckled. "Well, that's not my fault."
I stared at him, speculating. He didn't seem to notice. His face was serene as he gazed out the windshield. Something was off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Or maybe it was just my imagination again, running wild like it had this afternoon.
"Does this sudden urge to see Florida have anything to do with the party at Billy's place?"
His jaw flexed. "Nothing at all. It wouldn't matter if you were here or on the other side of the world, you still wouldn't be going."
It was just like with Charlie before - just like being treated as a misbehaving child. I gritted my teeth together so I wouldn't start shouting. I didn't want to fight with Edward, too.
Edward sighed, and when he spoke his voice was warm and velvet again. "So what do you want to do tonight?" he asked.
"Can we go to your house? I haven't seen Esme in so long."
He smiled. "She'll like that. Especially when she hears what we're doing this weekend." I groaned in defeat.
We didn't stay out late, as I'd promised. I was not surprised to see the lights still on when we pulled up in front of the house - I knew Charlie would be waiting to yell at me some more.
"You'd better not come inside," I said. "It will only make things worse."
"His thoughts are relatively calm," Edward teased. His expression made me wonder if there was some additional joke I was missing. The corners of his mouth twitched, fighting a smile.
"I'll see you later," I muttered glumly.
He laughed and kissed the top of my head. "I'll be back when Charlie's snoring." The TV was loud when I got inside. I briefly considered trying to sneak past him. "Could you come in here, Bella?" Charlie called, sinking that plan.
My feet dragged as I took the five necessary steps. "What's up, Dad?"
"Did you have a nice time tonight?" he asked. He seemed ill at ease. I looked for hidden meanings in his words before I answered.
"Yes," I said hesitantly. "What did you do?"
I shrugged. "Hung out with Alice and Jasper. Edward beat Alice at chess, and then I played Jasper. He buried me."
I smiled. Edward and Alice playing chess was one of the funniest things I'd ever seen. They'd sat there nearly motionless, staring at the board, while Alice foresaw the moves he would make and he picked the moves she would make in return out of her head. They played most of the game in their minds; I think they'd each moved two pawns when Alice suddenly flicked her king over and surrendered. It took all of three minutes.
Charlie hit the mute button - an unusual action.
"Look, there's something I need to say." He frowned, looking very uncomfortable.
I sat still, waiting. He met my gaze for a second before shifting his eyes to the floor. He didn't say anything more.
"What is it, Dad?"
He sighed. "I'm not good at this kind of thing. I don't know how to start. "
I waited again.
"Okay, Bella. Here's the thing." He got up from the couch and started pacing back and forth across the room, looking as his feet all the time. "You and Edward seem pretty serious, and there are some things that you need to be careful about. I know you're an adult now, but you're still young, Bella, and there are a lot of important things you need to know when you .
. . well, when you're physically involved with -"
"Oh, please, please no!" I begged, jumping to my feet. "Please tell me you are not trying to have a sex talk with me, Charlie."
He glared at the floor. "I am your father. I have responsibilities. Remember, I'm just as embarrassed as you are."
"I don't think that's humanly possible. Anyway, Mom beat you to the punch about ten years ago. You're off the hook."
"Ten years ago you didn't have a boyfriend," he muttered unwillingly. I could tell he was battling with his desire to drop the subject. We were both standing up, looking at the floor, and facing away from each other.
"I don't think the essentials have changed that much," I mumbled, and my face had to be as red as his. This was beyond the seventh circle of Hades; even worse was realizing that Edward had known this was coming. No wonder he'd seemed so smug in the car.
"Just tell me that you two are being responsible," Charlie pled, obviously wishing a pit would open in the floor so that he could fall in.
"Don't worry about it, Dad, it's not like that."
"Not that I don't trust you, Bella, but I know you don't want to tell me anything about this, and you know I don't really want to hear it. I will try to be open-minded, though. I know the times have changed."
I laughed awkwardly. "Maybe the times have, but Edward is very old-fashioned. You have nothing to worry about."
Charlie sighed. "Sure he is," he muttered.
"Ugh!" I groaned. "I really wish you were not forcing me to say this out loud, Dad. Really.
But I am a virgin, and I have no immediate plans to change that status."
We both cringed, but then Charlie's face smoothed out. He seemed to believe me. "Can I go to bed, now? Please. "
"In a minute," he said.
"Aw, please, Dad? I'm begging you."
"The embarrassing part's over, I promise," he assured me.
I shot a glance at him, and was grateful to see that he looked more relaxed, that his face was back to its regular color. He sank down onto the sofa, sighing with relief that he was past the sex speech.
"What now?"
"I just wanted to know how the balance thing is coming along."
"Oh. Good, I guess. I made plans with Angela today. I'm going to help her with her graduation announcements. Just us girls."
"That's nice. And what about Jake?"
I sighed. "I haven't figured that one out yet, Dad."
"Keep trying, Bella. I know you'll do the right thing. You're a good person."
Nice. So if I didn't figure out some way to make things right with Jacob, then I was abad person? That was below the belt.
"Sure, sure," I agreed. The automatic response almost made me smile - it was something I'd picked up from Jacob. I even said it in the same patronizing tone he used with his own father.
Charlie grinned and turned the sound back on. He slumped lower into the cushions, pleased with his night's work. I could tell he would be up with the game for a while.
"'Night, Bells."
"See you in the morning!" I sprinted for the stairs.
Edward was long gone and he wouldn't be back until Charlie was asleep - he was probably out hunting or something to pass the time - so I was in no hurry to undress for bed. I wasn't in the mood to be alone, but I certainly wasn't going to go back downstairs to hang out with my Dad, just in case he thought of some topic of sex education that he hadn't touched on before; I shuddered.
So, thanks to Charlie, I was wound up and anxious. My homework was done and I didn't feel mellow enough for reading or just listening to music. I considered calling Renée with the news of my visit, but then I realized that it was three hours later in Florida, and she would be asleep.
I could call Angela, I supposed.
But suddenly I knew that it wasn't Angela that I wanted to talk to. That I needed to talk to.
I stared at the blank black window, biting my lip. I don't know how long I stood there weighing the pros against the cons - doing the right thing by Jacob, seeing my closest friend again, being a good person, versus making Edward furious with me. Ten minutes maybe. Long enough to decide that the pros were valid while the cons were not. Edward was only concerned about my safety, and I knew that there was really no problem on that count.
The phone wasn't any help; Jacob had refused to answer my phone calls since Edward's return. Besides, I needed to see him - see him smiling again the way he used to. I needed to replace that awful last memory of his face warped and twisted by pain if I was ever going to have any peace of mind.
I had an hour probably. I could make a quick run down to La Push and be back before Edward realized I had gone. It was past my curfew, but would Charlie really care about that when Edward wasn't involved? One way to find out.
I grabbed my jacket and shoved my arms through the sleeves as I ran down the stairs. Charlie looked up from the game, instantly suspicious.
"You care if I go see Jake tonight?" I asked breathlessly. "I won't stay long."
As soon as I said Jake's name, Charlie's expression relaxed into a smug smile. He didn't seem surprised at all that his lecture had taken effect so quickly. "Sure, kid. No problem. Stay as long as you like."
"Thanks, Dad," I said as I darted out the door.
Like any fugitive, I couldn't help looking over my shoulder a few times while I jogged to my truck, but the night was so black that there really was no point. I had to feel my way along the side of the truck to the handle.
My eyes were just beginning to adjust as I shoved my keys in the ignition. I twisted them hard to the left, but instead of roaring deafeningly to life, the engine just clicked. I tried it again with the same results.
And then a small motion in my peripheral vision made me jump. "Gah!" I gasped in shock when I saw that I was not alone in the cab.
Edward sat very still, a faint bright spot in the darkness, only his hands moving as he turned a mysterious black object around and around. He stared at the object as he spoke.
"Alice called," he murmured.
Alice! Damn. I'd forgotten to account for her in my plans. He must have her watching me. "She got nervous when your future rather abruptly disappeared five minutes ago."
My eyes, already wide with surprise, popped wider.
"Because she can't see the wolves, you know," he explained in the same low murmur. "Had you forgotten that? When you decide to mingle your fate with theirs, you disappear, too. You couldn't know that part, I realize that. But can you understand why that might make me a little . . . anxious? Alice saw you disappear, and she couldn't even tell if you'd come home or not. Your future got lost, just like theirs.
"We're not sure why this is. Some natural defense they're born with?" He spoke as if he were talking to himself now, still looking at the piece of my truck's engine as he twirled it in his hands. "That doesn't seem entirely likely, since I haven't had any trouble reading their thoughts. The Blacks' at least. Carlisle theorizes that it's because their lives are so ruled by their transformations. It's more an involuntary reaction than a decision. Utterly unpredictable, and it changes everything about them. In that instant when they shift from one form to the other, they don't really even exist. The future can't hold them. "
I listened to his musing in stony silence.
"I'll put your car back together in time for school, in case you'd like to drive yourself," he assured me after a minute.
With my lips mashed together, I retrieved my keys and stiffly climbed out of the truck.
"Shut your window if you want me to stay away tonight. I'll understand," he whispered just before I slammed the door.
I stomped into the house, slamming that door, too. "What's wrong?" Charlie demanded from the couch. "Truck won't start," I growled.
"Want me to look at it?"
"No. I'll try it in the morning." "Want to use my car?"
I wasn't supposed to drive his police cruiser. Charlie must be really desperate to get me to La Push. Nearly as desperate as I was.
"No. I'm tired," I grumbled. "'Night."
I stamped my way up the stairs, and went straight to my window. I shoved the metal frame
roughly - it crashed shut and the glass trembled.
I stared at the shivering black glass for a long moment, until it was still. Then I sighed, and opened the window as wide as it would go.
3. MOTIVES
THE SUN WAS SO DEEPLY BURIED BEHIND THE CLOUDS that there was no way to tell if it had set or not. After the long flight - chasing the sun westward so that it seemed unmoving in the sky - it was especially disorienting; time seemed oddly variable. It took me by surprise when the forest gave way to the first buildings, signaling that we were nearly home.
"You've been very quiet," Edward observed. "Did the plane make you sick?" "No, I'm okay."
"Are you sad to leave?"
"More relieved than sad, I think."
He raised one eyebrow at me. I knew it was useless and - much as I hated to admit it - unnecessary to ask him to keep his eyes on the road.
"Renée is so much more . . .perceptive than Charlie in some ways. It was making me jumpy."
Edward laughed. "Your mother has a very interesting mind. Almost childlike, but very insightful. She sees things differently than other people."
Insightful. It was a good description of my mother - when she was paying attention. Most of the time Renée was so bewildered by her own life that she didn't notice much else. But this weekend she'd been paying plenty of attention to me.
Phil was busy - the high school baseball team he coached was in the playoffs - and being alone with Edward and me had only sharpened Renée's focus. As soon as the hugs and squeals of delight were out of the way, Renée began to watch. And as she'd watched, her wide blue eyes had become first confused and then concerned.
This morning we'd gone for a walk along the beach. She wanted to show off all the beauties of her new home, still hoping, I think, that the sun might lure me away from Forks. She'd also wanted to talk with me alone, and that was easily arranged. Edward had fabricated a term paper to give himself an excuse to stay indoors during the day.
In my head, I went through the conversation again. . . .
Renée and I ambled along the sidewalk, trying to stay in the range of the infrequent palm tree shadows. Though it was early, the heat was smothering. The air was so heavy with moisture that just breathing in and out was giving my lungs a workout.
"Bella?" my mother asked, looking out past the sand to the lightly crashing waves as she spoke.
"What is it, Mom?"
She sighed, not meeting my gaze. "I'm worried. "
"What's wrong?" I asked, anxious at once. "What can I do?"
"It's not me." She shook her head. "I'm worried about you and Edward."
Renée finally looked at me when she said his name, her face apologetic.
"Oh," I mumbled, fixing my eyes on a pair of joggers as they passed us, drenched with sweat. "You two are more serious than I'd been thinking," she went on.
I frowned, quickly reviewing the last two days in my head. Edward and I had barely touched
- in front of her, at least. I wondered if Renée was about to give me a lecture on responsibility, too. I didn't mind that the way I had with Charlie. It wasn't embarrassing with my mom. After all, I'd been the one giving her that lecture time and time again in the last ten years.
"There's something . . . strange about the way you two are together," she murmured, her forehead creasing over her troubled eyes. "The way he watches you - it's so protective.
Like he's about to throw himself in front of a bullet to save you or something." I laughed, though I was still not able to meet her gaze. "That's a bad thing?"
"No." She frowned as she struggled for the words. "It's just different . He's very intense about you . . . and very careful. I feel like I don't really understand your relationship. Like there's some secret I'm missing. "
"I think you're imagining things, Mom," I said quickly, struggling to keep my voice light. There was a flutter in my stomach. I'd forgotten how much my mother saw. Something about her simple view of the world cut through all the distractions and pierced right to the truth of things. This had never been a problem before. Until now, there had never been a secret I couldn't tell her.
"It's not just him." She set her lips defensively. "I wish you could see how you move around him."
"What do you mean?"
"The way you move - you orient yourself around him without even thinking about it. When he moves, even a little bit, you adjust your position at the same time. Like magnets or
gravity. You're like a satellite, or something. I've never seen anything like it."
She pursed her lips and stared down.
"Don't tell me," I teased, forcing a smile. "You're reading mysteries again, aren't you? Or is it sci-fi this time?"
Renée flushed a delicate pink. "That's beside the point." "Found anything good?"
"Well, there was one - but that doesn't matter. We're talking about you right now." "You should stick to romance, Mom. You know how you freak yourself out."
Her lips turned up at the corners. "I'm being silly, aren't I?"
For half a second I couldn't answer. Renée was so easily swayed. Sometimes it was a good thing, because not all of her ideas were practical. But it pained me to see how quickly she caved in to my trivializing, especially since she was dead right this time.
She looked up, and I controlled my expression. "Not silly - just being a mom."
She laughed and then gestured grandly toward the white sands stretching to the blue water. "And all this isn't enough to get you to move back in with your silly mom?"
I wiped my hand dramatically across my forehead, and then pretended to wring my hair out. "You get used to the humidity," she promised.
"You can get used to rain, too," I countered.
She elbowed me playfully and then took my hand as we walked back to her car.
Other than her worries about me, she seemed happy enough. Content. She still looked at Phil with goo-goo eyes, and that was comforting. Surely her life was full and satisfying. Surely she didn't miss me that much, even now. . . .
Edward's icy fingers brushed my cheek. I looked up, blinking, coming back to the present. He leaned down and kissed my forehead.
"We're home, Sleeping Beauty. Time to awake."
We were stopped in front of Charlie's house. The porch light was on and the cruiser was parked in the driveway. As I examined the house, I saw the curtain twitch in the living room window, flashing a line of yellow light across the dark lawn.
I sighed. Of course Charlie was waiting to pounce.
Edward must have been thinking the same thing, because his expression was stiff and his eyes remote as he came to get my door for me.
"How bad?" I asked.
"Charlie's not going to be difficult," Edward promised, his voice level with no hint of humor. "He missed you."
My eyes narrowed in doubt. If that was the case, then why was Edward tensed as if for a battle?
My bag was small, but he insisted on carrying it into the house. Charlie held the door open for us.
"Welcome home, kid!" Charlie shouted like he really meant it. "How was Jacksonville?" "Moist. And buggy."
"So Renée didn't sell you on the University of Florida?" "She tried. But I'd rather drink water than inhale it."
Charlie's eyes flickered unwillingly to Edward. "Did you have a nice time?" "Yes," Edward answered in a serene voice. "Renée was very hospitable."
"That's . . . um, good. Glad you had fun." Charlie turned away from Edward and pulled me in for an unexpected hug.
"Impressive," I whispered in his ear.
He rumbled a laugh. "I really missed you, Bells. The food around here sucks when you're gone."
"I'll get on it," I said as he let me go.
"Would you call Jacob first? He's been bugging me every five minutes since six o'clock this morning. I promised I'd have you call him before you even unpacked."
I didn't have to look at Edward to feel that he was too still, too cold beside me. So this was the cause of his tension.
"Jacob wants to talk to me?"
"Pretty bad, I'd say. He wouldn't tell me what it was about - just said it was important." The phone rang then, shrill and demanding.
"That's him again, I'd bet my next paycheck," Charlie muttered. "I got it." I hurried to the kitchen.
Edward followed after me while Charlie disappeared into the living room.
I grabbed the phone mid-ring, and twisted around so that I was facing the wall. "Hello?" "You're back," Jacob said.
His familiar husky voice sent a wave of wistfulness through me. A thousand memories spun in my head, tangling together - a rocky beach strewn with driftwood trees, a garage made of plastic sheds, warm sodas in a paper bag, a tiny room with one too-small shabby loveseat. The laughter in his deep-set black eyes, the feverish heat of his big hand around mine, the flash of his white teeth against his dark skin, his face stretching into the wide smile that had always been like a key to a secret door where only kindred spirits could enter.
It felt sort of like homesickness, this longing for the place and person who had sheltered me through my darkest night.
I cleared the lump from my throat. "Yes," I answered. "Why didn't you call me?" Jacob demanded.
His angry tone instantly got my back up. "Because I've been in the house for exactly four seconds and your call interrupted Charlie telling me that you'd called."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Sure. Now, why are you harassing Charlie?" "I need to talk to you."
"Yeah, I figured out that part all by myself. Go ahead." There was a short pause.
"You going to school tomorrow?"
I frowned to myself, unable to make sense of this question. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?"
"I dunno. Just curious." Another pause.
"So what did you want to talk about, Jake?"
He hesitated. "Nothing really, I guess. I . . . wanted to hear your voice."
"Yeah, I know. I'm so glad you called me, Jake. I . . ." But I didn't know what more to say. I wanted to tell him I was on my way to La Push right now. And I couldn't tell him that.
"I have to go," he said abruptly. "What?"
"I'll talk to you soon, okay?" "But Jake -"
He was already gone. I listened to the dial tone with disbelief. "That was short," I muttered.
"Is everything all right?" Edward asked. His voice was low and careful.
I turned slowly to face him. His expression was perfectly smooth - impossible to read.
"I don't know. I wonder what that was about." It didn't make sense that Jacob had been hounding Charlie all day just to ask me if I was going to school. And if he'd wanted to hear my voice, then why did he hang up so quickly?
"Your guess is probably better than mine," Edward said, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Mmm," I murmured. That was true. I knew Jake inside and out. It shouldn't be that complicated to figure out his motivations.
With my thoughts miles away - about fifteen miles away, up the road to La Push - I started combing through the fridge, assembling ingredients for Charlie's dinner. Edward leaned against the counter, and I was distantly aware that his eyes were on my face, but too preoccupied to worry about what he saw there.
The school thing seemed like the key to me. That was the only real question Jake had asked. And he had to be after an answer to something, or he wouldn't have been bugging Charlie so persistently.
Why would my attendance record matter to him, though?
I tried to think about it in a logical way. So, if I hadn't been going to school tomorrow, what would be the problem with that, from Jacob's perspective? Charlie had given me a little grief about missing a day of school so close to finals, but I'd convinced him that one Friday wasn't going to derail my studies. Jake would hardly care about that.
My brain refused to come up with any brilliant insights. Maybe I was missing some vital
piece of information.
What could have changed in the past three days that was so important that Jacob would break his long streak of refusing to answer my phone calls and contact me? What difference could three days make?
I froze in the middle of the kitchen. The package of icy hamburger in my hands slipped through my numb fingers. It took me a slow second to miss the thud it should have made against the floor.
Edward had caught it and thrown it onto the counter. His arms were already around me, his lips at my ear.
"What's wrong?"
I shook my head, dazed.
Three days could change everything.
Hadn't I just been thinking about how impossible college was? How I couldn't be anywhere near people after I'd gone through the painful three-day conversion that would set me free from mortality, so that I could spend eternity with Edward? The conversion that would make me forever a prisoner to my own thirst. . . .
Had Charlie told Billy that I'd vanished for three days? Had Billy jumped to conclusions? Had Jacob really been asking me if I was still human? Making sure that the werewolves' treaty was unbroken - that none of the Cullens had dared to bite a human . . . bite, not kill . .
.?
But did he honestly think I would come home to Charlie if that was the case? Edward shook me. "Bella?" he asked, truly anxious now.
"I think . . . I think he was checking," I mumbled. "Checking to make sure. That I'm human, I mean."
Edward stiffened, and a low hiss sounded in my ear.
"We'll have to leave," I whispered. "Before. So that it doesn't break the treaty. We won't ever be able to come back."
His arms tightened around me. "I know."
"Ahem." Charlie cleared his voice loudly behind us.
I jumped, and then pulled free of Edward's arms, my face getting hot. Edward leaned back against the counter. His eyes were tight. I could see worry in them, and anger.
"If you don't want to make dinner, I can call for a pizza," Charlie hinted. "No, that's okay, I'm already started."
"Okay," Charlie said. He propped himself against the doorframe, folding his arms. I sighed and got to work, trying to ignore my audience.
"If I asked you to do something, would you trust me?" Edward asked, an edge to his soft voice.
We were almost to school. Edward had been relaxed and joking just a moment ago, and now suddenly his hands were clenched tight on the steering wheel, his knuckles straining in an effort not to snap it into pieces.
I stared at his anxious expression - his eyes were far away, like he was listening to distant voices.
My pulse sped in response to his stress, but I answered carefully. "That depends." We pulled into the school lot.
"I was afraid you would say that." "What do you want me to do, Edward?"
"I want you to stay in the car." He pulled into his usual spot and turned the engine off as he spoke. "I want you to wait here until I come back for you."
"But . . .why ?"
That was when I saw him. He would have been hard to miss, towering over the students the way he did, even if he hadn't been leaning against his black motorcycle, parked illegally on the sidewalk.
"Oh."
Jacob's face was a calm mask that I recognized well. It was the face he used when he was determined to keep his emotions in check, to keep himself under control. It made him look like Sam, the oldest of the wolves, the leader of the Quileute pack. But Jacob could never quite manage the perfect serenity Sam always exuded.
I'd forgotten how much this face bothered me. Though I'd gotten to know Sam pretty well before the Cullens had come back - to like him, even - I'd never been able to completely shake the resentment I felt when Jacob mimicked Sam's expression. It was a stranger's face. He wasn't my Jacob when he wore it.
"You jumped to the wrong conclusion last night," Edward murmured. "He asked about
school because he knew that I would be where you were. He was looking for a safe place to talk to me. A place with witnesses."
So I'd misinterpreted Jacob's motives last night. Missing information, that was the problem. Information like why in the world Jacob would want to talk to Edward.
"I'm not staying in the car," I said.
Edward groaned quietly. "Of course not. Well, let's get this over with." Jacob's face hardened as we walked toward him, hand in hand.
I noticed other faces, too - the faces of my classmates. I noticed how their eyes widened as they took in all six foot seven inches of Jacob's long body, muscled up the way no normal sixteen-and-a-half-year-old ever had been. I saw those eyes rake over his tight black t-shirt - short-sleeved, though the day was unseasonably cool - his ragged, grease-smeared jeans, and the glossy black bike he leaned against. Their eyes didn't linger on his face - something about his expression had them glancing quickly away. And I noticed the wide berth everyone gave him, the bubble of space that no one dared to encroach on.
With a sense of astonishment, I realized that Jacob looked dangerous to them. How odd.
Edward stopped a few yards away from Jacob, and I could tell that he was uncomfortable having me so close to a werewolf. He drew his hand back slightly, pulling me halfway behind his body.
"You could have called us," Edward said in a steel-hard voice.
"Sorry," Jacob answered, his face twisting into a sneer. "I don't have any leeches on my speed dial."
"You could have reached me at Bella's house, of course."
Jacob's jaw flexed, and his brows pulled together. He didn't answer. "This is hardly the place, Jacob. Could we discuss this later?"
"Sure, sure. I'll stop by your crypt after school." Jacob snorted. "What's wrong with now?"
Edward looked around pointedly, his eyes resting on the witnesses who were just barely out of hearing range. A few people were hesitating on the sidewalk, their eyes bright with expectation. Like they were hoping a fight might break out to alleviate the tedium of another Monday morning. I saw Tyler Crowley nudge Austin Marks, and they both paused on their way to class.
"I already know what you came to say," Edward reminded Jacob in voice so low that I could barely make it out. "Message delivered. Consider us warned."
Edward glanced down at me for a fleeting second with worried eyes. "Warned?" I asked blankly. "What are you talking about?"
"You didn't tell her?" Jacob asked, his eyes widening with disbelief. "What, were you afraid she'd take our side?"
"Please drop it, Jacob," Edward said in an even voice. "Why?" Jacob challenged.
I frowned in confusion. "What don't I know? Edward?" Edward just glared at Jacob as if he hadn't heard me. "Jake?"
Jacob raised his eyebrow at me. "He didn't tell you that his big . . .brother crossed the line Saturday night?" he asked, his tone thickly layered with sarcasm. Then his eyes flickered back to Edward. "Paul was totally justified in -"
"It was no-man's land!" Edward hissed. "Was not!"
Jacob was fuming visibly. His hands trembled. He shook his head and sucked in two deep lungfuls of air.
"Emmett and Paul?" I whispered. Paul was Jacob's most volatile pack brother. He was the one who'd lost control that day in the woods - the memory of the snarling gray wolf was suddenly vivid in my head. "What happened? Were they fighting?" My voice strained higher in panic. "Why? Did Paul get hurt?"
"No one fought," Edward said quietly, only to me. "No one got hurt. Don't be anxious."
Jacob was staring at us with incredulous eyes. "You didn't tell her anything at all, did you? Is that why you took her away? So she wouldn't know that -?"
"Leave now." Edward cut him off mid-sentence, and his face was abruptly frightening - truly frightening. For a second, he looked like . . . like a vampire . He glared at Jacob with vicious, unveiled loathing.
Jacob raised his eyebrows, but made no other move. "Why haven't you told her?"
They faced each other in silence for a long moment. More students gathered behind Tyler and Austin. I saw Mike next to Ben - Mike had one hand on Ben's shoulder, like he was holding him in place.
In the dead silence, all the details suddenly fell into place for me with a burst of intuition. Something Edward didn't want me to know.
Something that Jacob wouldn't have kept from me.
Something that had the Cullens and the wolves both in the woods, moving in hazardous proximity to each other.
Something that would cause Edward to insist that I fly across the country.
Something that Alice had seen in a vision last week - a vision Edward had lied to me about.
Something I'd been waiting for anyway. Something I knew would happen again, as much as I might wish it never would. It was never going to end, was it?
I heard the quick gasp, gasp, gasp, gasp of the air dragging through my lips, but I couldn't stop it. It looked like the school was shaking, like there was an earthquake, but I knew it was my own trembling that caused the illusion.
"She came back for me," I choked out.
Victoria was never going to give up till I was dead. She would keep repeating the same pattern - feint and run, feint and run - until she found a hole through my defenders.
Maybe I'd get lucky. Maybe the Volturi would come for me first - they'd kill me quicker, at least.
Edward held me tight to his side, angling his body so that he was still between me and Jacob, and stroked my face with anxious hands. "It's fine," he whispered to me. "It's fine. I'll never let her get close to you, it's fine."
Then he glared at Jacob. "Does that answer your question, mongrel?"
"You don't think Bella has a right to know?" Jacob challenged. "It's her life."
Edward kept his voice muted; even Tyler, edging forward by inches, would be unable to hear. "Why should she be frightened when she was never in danger?"
"Better frightened than lied to."
I tried to pull myself together, but my eyes were swimming in moisture. I could see it behind my lids - I could see Victoria's face, her lips pulled back over her teeth, her crimson eyes glowing with the obsession of her vendetta; she held Edward responsible for the demise of her love, James. She wouldn't stop until his love was taken from him, too.
Edward wiped the tears from my cheek with his fingertips.
"Do you really think hurting her is better than protecting her?" he murmured. "She's tougher than you think," Jacob said. "And she's been through worse."
Abruptly, Jacob's expression shifted, and he was staring at Edward with an odd, speculative expression. His eyes narrowed like he was trying to do a difficult math problem in his head.
I felt Edward cringe. I glanced up at him, and his face was contorted in what could only be pain. For one ghastly moment, I was reminded of our afternoon in Italy, in the macabre tower room of the Volturi, where Jane had tortured Edward with her malignant gift, burning him with her thoughts alone. . . .
The memory snapped me out of my near hysteria and put everything in perspective. Because I'd rather Victoria killed me a hundred times over than watch Edward suffer that way again.
"That's funny," Jacob said, laughing as he watched Edward's face.
Edward winced, but smoothed his expression with a little effort. He couldn't quite hide the agony in his eyes.
I glanced, wide-eyed, from Edward's grimace to Jacob's sneer. "What are you doing to him?" I demanded.
"It's nothing, Bella," Edward told me quietly. "Jacob just has a good memory, that's all." Jacob grinned, and Edward winced again.
"Stop it! Whatever you're doing."
"Sure, if you want." Jacob shrugged. "It's his own fault if he doesn't like the things I remember, though."
I glared at him, and he smiled back impishly - like a kid caught doing something he knows he shouldn't by someone who he knows won't punish him.
"The principal's on his way to discourage loitering on school property," Edward murmured to me. "Let's get to English, Bella, so you're not involved."
"Overprotective, isn't he?" Jacob said, talking just to me. "A little trouble makes life fun. Let me guess, you're not allowed to have fun, are you?"
Edward glowered, and his lips pulled back from his teeth ever so slightly. "Shut up, Jake," I said.
Jacob laughed. "That sounds like a no. Hey, if you ever feel like having a life again, you could come see me. I've still got your motorcycle in my garage."
This news distracted me. "You were supposed to sell that. You promised Charlie you would." If I hadn't begged on Jake's behalf - after all, he'd put weeks of labor into both motorcycles, and he deserved some kind of payback - Charlie would have thrown my bike in a Dumpster. And possibly set that Dumpster on fire.
"Yeah, right. Like I would do that. It belongs to you, not me. Anyway, I'll hold on to it until you want it back."
A tiny hint of the smile I remembered was suddenly playing around the edges of his lips. "Jake . . ."
He leaned forward, his face earnest now, the bitter sarcasm fading. "I think I might have been wrong before, you know, about not being able to be friends. Maybe we could manage it, on my side of the line. Come see me."
I was vividly conscious of Edward, his arms still wrapped protectively around me, motionless as a stone. I shot a look at his face - it was calm, patient.
"I, er, don't know about that, Jake."
Jacob dropped the antagonistic façade completely. It was like he'd forgotten Edward was there, or at least he was determined to act that way. "I miss you every day, Bella. It's not the same without you."
"I know and I'm sorry, Jake, I just . . ."
He shook his head, and sighed. "I know. Doesn't matter, right? I guess I'll survive or something. Who needs friends?" He grimaced, trying to cover the pain with a thin attempt at bravado.
Jacob's suffering had always triggered my protective side. It was not entirely rational - Jacob was hardly in need of any physical protection I could offer. But my arms, pinned beneath Edward's, yearned to reach out to him. To wrap around his big, warm waist in a silent promise of acceptance and comfort.
Edward's shielding arms had become restraints.
"Okay, get to class," a stern voice sounded behind us. "Move along, Mr. Crowley."
"Get to school, Jake," I whispered, anxious as soon as I recognized the principal's voice. Jacob went to the Quileute school, but he might still get in trouble for trespassing or the equivalent.
Edward released me, taking just my hand and pulling me behind his body again.
Mr. Greene pushed through the circle of spectators, his brows pressing down like ominous
storm clouds over his small eyes.
"I mean it," he was threatening. "Detention for anyone who's still standing here when I turn around again."
The audience melted away before he was finished with his sentence. "Ah, Mr. Cullen. Do we have a problem here?"
"Not at all, Mr. Greene. We were just on our way to class."
"Excellent. I don't seem to recognize your friend." Mr. Greene turned his glower on Jacob. "Are you a new student here?"
Mr. Greene's eyes scrutinized Jacob, and I could see that he'd come to the same conclusion everyone else had: dangerous. A troublemaker.
"Nope," Jacob answered, half a smirk on his broad lips.
"Then I suggest you remove yourself from school property at once, young man, before I call the police."
Jacob's little smirk became a full-blown grin, and I knew he was picturing Charlie showing up to arrest him. This grin was too bitter, too full of mocking to satisfy me. This wasn't the smile I'd been waiting to see.
Jacob said, "Yes, sir," and snapped a military salute before he climbed on his bike and kicked it to a start right there on the sidewalk. The engine snarled and then the tires squealed as he spun it sharply around. In a matter of seconds, Jacob raced out of sight.
Mr. Greene gnashed his teeth together while he watched the performance. "Mr. Cullen, I expect you to ask your friend to refrain from trespassing again." "He's no friend of mine, Mr. Greene, but I'll pass along the warning."
Mr. Greene pursed his lips. Edward's perfect grades and spotless record were clearly a factor in Mr. Greene's assessment of the incident. "I see. If you're worried about any trouble, I'd be happy to -"
"There's nothing to worry about, Mr. Greene. There won't be any trouble." "I hope that's correct. Well, then. On to class. You, too, Miss Swan." Edward nodded, and pulled me quickly along toward the English building.
"Do you feel well enough to go to class?" he whispered when we were past the principal.
"Yes," I whispered back, not quite sure if this was a lie.
Whether I felt well or not was hardly the most important consideration. I needed to talk to Edward right away, and English class wasn't the ideal place for the conversation I had in mind.
But with Mr. Greene right behind us, there weren't a lot of other options.
We got to class a little late and took our seats quickly. Mr. Berty was reciting a Frost poem. He ignored our entrance, refusing to let us break his rhythm.
I yanked a blank page out of my notebook and started writing, my handwriting more illegible than normal thanks to my agitation.
What happened? Tell me everything. And screw the protecting me crap, please.
I shoved the note at Edward. He sighed, and then began writing. It took him less time than me, though he wrote an entire paragraph in his own personal calligraphy before he slipped the paper back.
Alice saw that Victoria was coming back. I took you out of town merely as a precaution - there was never a chance that she would have gotten anywhere close to you. Emmett and Jasper very nearly had her, but Victoria seems to have some instinct for evasion. She escaped right down the Quileute boundary line as if she were reading it from a map. It didn't help that Alice's abilities were nullified by the Quileutes' involvement. To be fair, the Quileutes might have had her, too, if we hadn't gotten in the way. The big gray one thought Emmett was over the line, and he got defensive. Of course Rosalie reacted to that, and everyone left the chase to protect their companions. Carlisle and Jasper got things calmed down before it got out of hand. But by then, Victoria had slipped away. That's everything.
I frowned at the letters on the page. All of them had been in on it - Emmett, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie, and Carlisle. Maybe even Esme, though he hadn't mentioned her. And then Paul and the rest of the Quileute pack. It might so easily have turned into a fight, pitting my future family and my old friends against each other. Any one of them could have been hurt. I imagined the wolves would be in the most danger, but picturing tiny Alice next to one of the huge werewolves, fighting . . .
I shuddered.
Carefully, I scrubbed out the entire paragraph with my eraser and then I wrote over the top: What about Charlie? She could have been after him.
Edward was shaking his head before I finished, obviously going to downplay any danger on Charlie's behalf. He held a hand out, but I ignored that and started again.
You can't know that she wasn't thinking that, because you weren't here. Florida was a bad
idea.
He took the paper from underneath my hand.
I wasn't about to send you off alone. With your luck, not even the black box would survive.
That wasn't what I'd meant at all; I hadn't thought of going without him. I'd meant that we should have stayed here together. But I was sidetracked by his response, and a little miffed. Like I couldn't fly cross country without bringing the plane down. Very funny.
So let's say my bad luck did crash the plane. What exactly were you going to do about it? Why is the plane crashing?
He was trying to hide a smile now. The pilots are passed out drunk.
Easy. I'd fly the plane.
Of course. I pursed my lips and tried again.
Both engines have exploded and we're falling in a death spiral toward the earth.
I'd wait till we were close enough to the ground, get a good grip on you, kick out the wall, and jump. Then I'd run you back to the scene of the accident, and we'd stumble around like the two luckiest survivors in history.
I stared at him wordlessly. "What?" he whispered.
I shook my head in awe. "Nothing," I mouthed.
I scrubbed out the disconcerting conversation and wrote one more line. You will tell me next time.
I knew there would be a next time. The pattern would continue until someone lost.
Edward stared into my eyes for a long moment. I wondered what my face looked like - it felt cold, so the blood hadn't returned to my cheeks. My eyelashes were still wet.
He sighed and then nodded once. Thanks.
The paper disappeared from under my hand. I looked up, blinking in surprise, just as Mr. Berty came down the aisle.
"Is that something you'd like to share there, Mr. Cullen?"
Edward looked up innocently and held out the sheet of paper on top of his folder. "My notes?" he asked, sounding confused.
Mr. Berty scanned the notes - no doubt a perfect transcription of his lecture - and then walked away frowning.
It was later, in Calculus - my one class without Edward - that I heard the gossip. "My money's on the big Indian," someone was saying.
I peeked up to see that Tyler, Mike, Austin, and Ben had their heads bent together, deep in conversation.
"Yeah," Mike whispered. "Did you see the size of that Jacob kid? I think he could take Cullen down." Mike sounded pleased by the idea.
"I don't think so," Ben disagreed. "There's something about Edward. He's always so . . . confident. I have a feeling he can take care of himself."
"I'm with Ben," Tyler agreed. "Besides, if that other kid messed Edward up, you know those big brothers of his would get involved."
"Have you been down to La Push lately?" Mike asked. "Lauren and I went to the beach a couple of weeks ago, and believe me, Jacob's friends are all just as big as he is."
"Huh," Tyler said. "Too bad it didn't turn into anything. Guess we'll never know how it would have turned out."
"It didn't look over to me," Austin said. "Maybe we'll get to see." Mike grinned. "Anyone in the mood for a bet?"
"Ten on Jacob," Austin said at once. "Ten on Cullen," Tyler chimed in. "Ten on Edward," Ben agreed. "Jacob," Mike said.
"Hey, do you guys know what it was about?" Austin wondered. "That might affect the odds."
"I can guess," Mike said, and then he shot a glance at me at the same time that Ben and Tyler did.
From their expressions, none of them had realized I was in easy hearing distance. They all looked away quickly, shuffling the papers on their desks.
"I still say Jacob," Mike muttered under his breath.
4. NATURE
I WAS HAVING A BAD WEEK.
I knew that essentially nothing had changed. Okay, so Victoria had not given up, but had I ever dreamed for one moment that she had? Her reappearance had only confirmed what I'd already known. No reason for fresh panic.
In theory. Not panicking was easier said than done.
Graduation was only a few weeks away, but I wondered if it wasn't a little foolish to sit around, weak and tasty, waiting for the next disaster. It seemed too dangerous to be human - just begging for trouble. Someone like me shouldn't be human. Someone with my luck ought to be a little less helpless.
But no one would listen to me.
Carlisle had said, "There are seven of us, Bella. And with Alice on our side, I don't think Victoria's going to catch us off guard. I think it's important, for Charlie's sake, that we stick with the original plan."
Esme had said, "We'd never allow anything to happen to you, sweetheart. You know that. Please don't be anxious." And then she'd kissed my forehead.
Emmett had said, "I'm really glad Edward didn't kill you. Everything's so much more fun with you around."
Rosalie had glared at him.
Alice had rolled her eyes and said, "I'm offended. You're not honestly worried about this, are you?"
"If it's no big deal, then why did Edward drag me to Florida?" I'd demanded.
"Haven't you noticed yet, Bella, that Edward is just the teeniest bit prone to overreaction?"
Jasper had silently erased all the panic and tension in my body with his curious talent of controlling emotional atmospheres. I'd felt reassured, and let them talk me out of my desperate pleading.
Of course, that calm had worn off as soon as Edward and I had walked out of the room.
So the consensus was that I was just supposed to forget that a deranged vampire was stalking me, intent on my death. Go about my business.
I did try. And surprisingly, there were other things almost as stressful to dwell on besides my status on the endangered species list. . . .
Because Edward's response had been the most frustrating of them all.
"That's between you and Carlisle," he'd said. "Of course, you know that I'm willing to make it between you and me at any time that you wish. You know my condition." And he had smiled angelically.
Ugh. I did know his condition. Edward had promised that he would change me himself whenever I wanted . . . just as long as I was married to him first.
Sometimes I wondered if he was only pretending that he couldn't read my mind. How else had he struck upon the one condition that I would have trouble accepting? The one condition that would slow me down.
All in all, a very bad week. And today was the worst day in it.
It was always a bad day when Edward was away. Alice had foreseen nothing out of the ordinary this weekend, and so I'd insisted that he take the opportunity to go hunting with his brothers. I knew how it bored him to hunt the easy, nearby prey.
"Go have fun," I'd told him. "Bag a few mountain lions for me."
I would never admit to him how hard it was for me when he was gone - how it brought back the abandonment nightmares. If he knew that, it would make him feel horrible and he would be afraid to ever leave me, even for the most necessary reasons. It had been like that in the beginning, when he'd first returned from Italy. His golden eyes had turned black and he'd suffered from his thirst more than it was already necessary that he suffer. So I put on a brave face and all but kicked him out the door whenever Emmett and Jasper wanted to go.
I think he saw through me, though. A little. This morning there had been a note left on my pillow:
I'll be back so soon you won't have time to miss me. Look after my heart - I've left it with you.
So now I had a big empty Saturday with nothing but my morning shift at Newton's Olympic Outfitters to distract me. And, of course, the oh-so-comforting promise from Alice.
"I'm staying close to home to hunt. I'll only be fifteen minutes away if you need me. I'll keep an eye out for trouble."
Translation: don't try anything funny just because Edward is gone.
Alice was certainly just as capable of crippling my truck as Edward was.
I tried to look on the bright side. After work, I had plans to help Angela with her announcements, so that would be a distraction. And Charlie was in an excellent mood due to Edward's absence, so I might as well enjoy that while it lasted. Alice would spend the night
with me if I was pathetic enough to ask her to. And then tomorrow, Edward would be home. I would survive.
Not wanting to be ridiculously early for work, I ate my breakfast slowly, one Cheerio at a time. Then, when I'd washed the dishes, I arranged the magnets on the fridge into a perfect line. Maybe I was developing obsessive-compulsive disorder.
The last two magnets - round black utilitarian pieces that were my favorites because they could hold ten sheets of paper to the fridge without breaking a sweat - did not want to cooperate with my fixation. Their polarities were reversed; every time I tried to line the last one up, the other jumped out of place.
For some reason - impending mania, perhaps - this really irritated me. Why couldn't they just play nice? Stupid with stubbornness, I kept shoving them together as if I was expecting them to suddenly give up. I could have flipped one over, but that felt like losing. Finally, exasperated at myself more than the magnets, I pulled them from the fridge and held them together with two hands. It took a little effort - they were strong enough to put up a fight - but I forced them to coexist side-by-side.
"See," I said out loud - talking to inanimate objects, never a good sign - "That's not so horrible, is it?"
I stood there like an idiot for a second, not quite able to admit that I wasn't having any lasting effect against scientific principles. Then, with a sigh, I put the magnets back on the fridge, a foot apart.
"There's no need to be so inflexible," I muttered.
It was still too early, but I decided I'd better get out of the house before the inanimate objects started talking back.
When I got to Newton's, Mike was methodically dry mopping the aisles while his mom arranged a new counter display. I caught them in the middle of an argument, unaware that I had arrived.
"But it's the only time that Tyler can go," Mike complained. "You said after graduation -"
"You're just going to have to wait," Mrs. Newton snapped. "You and Tyler can think of something else to do. You are not going to Seattle until the police stop whatever it is that is going on there. I know Beth Crowley has told Tyler the same thing, so don't act like I'm the bad guy - oh, good morning, Bella," she said when she caught sight of me, brightening her tone quickly. "You're early."
Karen Newton was the last person I'd think to ask for help in an outdoor sports equipment store. Her perfectly highlighted blond hair was always smoothed into an elegant twist on the back of her neck, her fingernails were polished by professionals, as were her toenails - visible
through the strappy high heels that didn't resemble anything Newton's offered on the long row of hiking boots.
"Light traffic," I joked as I grabbed my hideous fluorescent orange vest out from under the counter. I was surprised that Mrs. Newton was as worked up about this Seattle thing as Charlie. I'd thought he was going to extremes.
"Well, er . . ." Mrs. Newton hesitated for a moment, playing uncomfortably with a stack of flyers she was arranging by the register.
I stopped with one arm in my vest. I knew that look.
When I'd let the Newtons know that I wouldn't be working here this summer - abandoning them in their busiest season, in effect - they'd started training Katie Marshall to take my place. They couldn't really afford both of us on the payroll at the same time, so when it looked like a slow day . . .
"I was going to call," Mrs. Newton continued. "I don't think we're expecting a ton of business today. Mike and I can probably handle things. I'm sorry you got up and drove out. . .
."
On a normal day, I would be ecstatic with this turn of events. Today . . . not so much. "Okay," I sighed. My shoulders slumped. What was I going to do now?
"That's not fair, Mom," Mike said. "If Bella wants to work -"
"No, it's okay, Mrs. Newton. Really, Mike. I've got finals to study for and stuff. " I didn't
want to be a source of familial discord when they were already arguing.
"Thanks, Bella. Mike, you missed aisle four. Um, Bella, do you mind throwing these flyers in a Dumpster on the way out? I told the girl who left them here that I'd put them on the counter, but I really don't have the room."
"Sure, no problem." I put my vest away, and then tucked the flyers under my arm and headed out into the misty rain.
The Dumpster was around the side of Newton's, next to where we employees were supposed to park. I shuffled along, kicking pebbles petulantly on my way. I was about to fling the stack of bright yellow papers into the trash when the heading printed in bold across the top caught my eye. One word in particular seized my attention.
I clutched the papers in both hands as I stared at the picture beneath the caption. A lump rose in my throat.
SAVE THE OLYMPIC WOLF
Under the words, there was a detailed drawing of a wolf in front of a fir tree, its head thrown back in the act of baying at the moon. It was a disconcerting picture; something about the wolf's plaintive posture made him look forlorn. Like he was howling in grief.
And then I was running to my truck, the flyers still locked in my grip.
Fifteen minutes - that's all I had. But it should be long enough. It was only fifteen minutes to La Push, and surely I would cross the boundary line a few minutes before I hit the town.
My truck roared to life without any difficulty.
Alice couldn't have seen me doing this, because I hadn't been planning it. A snap decision, that was the key! And as long as I moved fast enough, I should be able to capitalize on it.
I'd thrown the damp flyers in my haste and they were scattered in a bright mess across the passenger seat - a hundred bolded captions, a hundred dark howling wolves outlined against the yellow background.
I barreled down the wet highway, turning the windshield wipers on high and ignoring the groan of the ancient engine. Fifty-five was the most I could coax out of my truck, and I prayed it would be enough.
I had no clue where the boundary line was, but I began to feel safer as I passed the first houses outside La Push. This must be beyond where Alice was allowed to follow.
I'd call her when I got to Angela's this afternoon, I reasoned, so that she'd know I was fine. There was no reason for her to get worked up. She didn't need to be mad at me - Edward would be angry enough for two when he got back.
My truck was positively wheezing by the time it grated to a stop in front of the familiar faded red house. The lump came back to my throat as I stared at the little place that had once been my refuge. It had been so long since I'd been here.
Before I could cut the engine, Jacob was standing in the door, his face blank with shock. In the sudden silence when the truck-roar died, I heard him gasp.
"Bella?"
"Hey, Jake!"
"Bella!" he yelled back, and the smile I'd been waiting for stretched across his face like the sun breaking free of the clouds. His teeth gleamed bright against his russet skin. "I can't believe it!"
He ran to the truck and half-yanked me through the open door, and then we were both jumping up and down like kids.
"How did you get here?" "I snuck out!" "Awesome!"
"Hey, Bella!" Billy had rolled himself into the doorway to see what all the commotion was about.
"Hey, Bil -!"
Just then my air choked off - Jacob grabbed me up in a bear hug too tight to breathe and swung me around in a circle.
"Wow, it's good to see you here!" "Can't . . . breathe," I gasped.
He laughed and put me down.
"Welcome back, Bella," he said, grinning. And the way he said the words made it sound like
welcome home .
We started walking, too keyed up to sit still in the house. Jacob was practically bouncing as he moved, and I had to remind him a few times that my legs weren't ten feet long.
As we walked, I felt myself settling into another version of myself, the self I had been with Jacob. A little younger, a little less responsible. Someone who might, on occasion, do something really stupid for no good reason.
Our exuberance lasted through the first few topics of conversation: how we were doing, what we were up to, how long I had, and what had brought me here. When I hesitantly told him about the wolf flyer, his bellowing laugh echoed back from the trees.
But then, as we ambled past the back of the store and shoved through the thick scrub that ringed the far edge of First Beach, we got to the hard parts. All too soon we had to talk about the reasons behind our long separation, and I watched as the face of my friend hardened into the bitter mask that was already too familiar.
"So what's the story, anyway?" Jacob asked me, kicking a piece of driftwood out of his way with too much force. It sailed over the sand and then clattered against the rocks. "I mean, since the last time we . . . well, before, you know . . ." He struggled for the words. He took a deep breath and tried again. "What I'm asking is . . . everything is just back to the way it was before he left? You forgave him for all of that?"
I took a deep breath. "There was nothing to forgive."
I wanted to skip past this part, the betrayals, the accusations, but I knew that we had to talk it through before we'd be able to move on to anything else.
Jacob's face puckered up like he'd just licked a lemon. "I wish Sam had taken a picture when he found you that night last September. It would be exhibit A."
"Nobody's on trial."
"Maybe somebody should be."
"Not even you would blame him for leaving, if you knew the reason why."
He glared at me for a few seconds. "Okay," he challenged acidly. "Amaze me."
His hostility was wearing on me - chafing against the raw; it hurt to have him angry with me. It reminded me of the bleak afternoon, long ago, when - under orders from Sam - he'd told me we couldn't be friends. I took a second to compose myself.
"Edward left me last fall because he didn't think I should be hanging out with vampires. He thought it would be healthier for me if he left."
Jacob did a double take. He had to scramble for a minute. Whatever he'd been planning to say, it clearly no longer applied. I was glad he didn't know the catalyst behind Edward's decision. I could only imagine what he'd think if he knew Jasper had tried to kill me.
"He came back, though, didn't he?" Jacob muttered. "Too bad he can't stick to a decision." "If you remember, I went and got him ."
Jacob stared at me for a moment, and then he backed off. His face relaxed, and his voice was calmer when he spoke.
"That's true. So I never did get the story. What happened?" I hesitated, biting my lip.
"Is it a secret?" His voice took on a taunting edge. "Are you not allowed to tell me?" "No," I snapped. "It's just a really long story."
Jacob smiled, arrogant, and turned to walk up the beach, expecting me to follow.
It was no fun being with Jacob if he was going to act like this. I trailed behind him automatically, not sure if I shouldn't turn around and leave. I was going to have to face Alice, though, when I got home. I supposed I wasn't in any rush.
Jacob walked to a huge, familiar piece of driftwood - an entire tree, roots and all, bleached white and beached deep in the sand; it was our tree, in a way.
Jacob sat down on the natural bench, and patted the space next to him. "I don't mind long stories. Is there any action?"
I rolled my eyes as I sat next to him. "There's some action," I allowed. "It wouldn't be real horror without action."
"Horror!" I scoffed. "Can you listen, or will you be interrupting me with rude comments about my friends?"
He pretended to lock his lips and then threw the invisible key over his shoulder. I tried not to smile, and failed.
"I'll have to start with the stuff you were already there for," I decided, working to organize the stories in my head before I began.
Jacob raised his hand. "Go ahead."
"That's good," he said. "I didn't understand much that was going on at the time." "Yeah, well, it gets complicated, so pay attention. You know how Alice sees things?"
I took his scowl - the wolves weren't thrilled that the legends of vampires possessing supernatural gifts were true - for a yes, and proceeded with the account of my race through Italy to rescue Edward.
I kept it as succinct as possible - leaving out anything that wasn't essential. I tried to read Jacob's reactions, but his face was enigmatic as I explained how Alice had seen Edward plan to kill himself when he'd heard that I was dead. Sometimes Jacob seemed so deep in thought, I wasn't sure if he was listening. He only interrupted one time.
"The fortune-telling bloodsucker can't see us?" he echoed, his face both fierce and gleeful. "Seriously? That's excellent !"
I clenched my teeth together, and we sat in silence, his face expectant as he waited for me to continue. I glared at him until he realized his mistake.
"Oops!" he said. "Sorry." He locked his lips again.
His response was easier to read when I got to the part about the Volturi. His teeth clenched together, goose bumps rose on his arms, and his nostrils flared. I didn't go into specifics, I just told him that Edward had talked us out of trouble, without revealing the promise we'd had to make, or the visit we were anticipating. Jacob didn't need to have my nightmares.
"Now you know the whole story," I concluded. "So it's your turn to talk. What happened
while I was with my mom this weekend?" I knew Jacob would give me more details than Edward had. He wasn't afraid of scaring me.
Jacob leaned forward, instantly animated. "So Embry and Quil and I were running patrol on Saturday night, just routine stuff, when out of nowhere - bam!" He threw his arms out, impersonating an explosion. "There it is - a fresh trail, not fifteen minutes old. Sam wanted us to wait for him, but I didn't know you were gone, and I didn't know if your bloodsuckers were keeping an eye on you or not. So we took off after her at full speed, but she'd crossed the treaty line before we caught up. We spread out along the line, hoping she'd cross back over. It was frustrating, let me tell you." He wagged his head and his hair - growing out from the short crop he'd adopted when he'd joined the pack - flopped into his eyes. "We ended up too far south. The Cullens chased her back to our side just a few miles north of us. Would have been the perfect ambush if we'd known where to wait."
He shook his head, grimacing now. "That's when it got dicey. Sam and the others caught up to her before we did, but she was dancing right along the line, and the whole coven was right there on the other side. The big one, what's-his-name -"
"Emmett."
"Yeah, him. He made a lunge for her, but that redhead is fast! He flew right behind her and almost rammed into Paul. So, Paul . . . well, you know Paul."
"Yeah."
"Lost his focus. Can't say that I blame him - the big bloodsucker was right on top of him. He sprang - hey, don't give me that look. The vampire was on our land."
I tried to compose my face so that he would go on. My nails were digging into my palms with the stress of the story, even though I knew it had turned out fine.
"Anyway, Paul missed, and the big one got back on his side. But by then the, er, well the, uh, blonde . . ." Jacob's expression was a comical mix of disgust and unwilling admiration as he tried to come up with a word to describe Edward's sister.
"Rosalie."
"Whatever. She got real territorial, so Sam and I fell back to get Paul's flanks. Then their leader and the other blond male -"
"Carlisle and Jasper."
He gave me an exasperated look. "You know I don't really care. Anyway, so Carlisle spoke to Sam, trying to calm things down. Then it was weird, because everyone got really calm really fast. It was that other one you told me about, messing with our heads. But even though we knew what he was doing, we couldn't not be calm."
"Yeah, I know how it feels."
"Really annoying, that's how it feels. Only you can't be annoyed until afterwards." He shook his head angrily. "So Sam and the head vamp agreed that Victoria was the priority, and we started after her again. Carlisle gave us the line, so that we could follow the scent properly, but then she hit the cliffs just north of Makah country, right where the line hugs the coast for a few miles. She took off into the water again. The big one and the calm one wanted permission to cross the line to go after her, but of course we said no."
"Good. I mean, you were being stupid, but I'm glad. Emmett's never cautious enough. He could have gotten hurt."
Jacob snorted. "So did your vampire tell you we attacked for no reason and his totally innocent coven -"
"No," I interrupted. "Edward told me the same story, just without quite as many details."
"Huh," Jacob said under his breath, and he bent over to pick up a rock from among the millions of pebbles at our feet. With a casual flick, he sent it flying a good hundred meters out into the bay. "Well, she'll be back, I guess. We'll get another shot at her."
I shuddered; of course she would be back. Would Edward really tell me next time? I wasn't sure. I'd have to keep an eye on Alice, to look for the signs that the pattern was about to repeat. . . .
Jacob didn't seem to notice my reaction. He was staring across the waves with a thoughtful expression on his face, his broad lips pursed.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked after a long, quiet time.
"I'm thinking about what you told me. About when the fortune-teller saw you cliff jumping and thought you'd committed suicide, and how it all got out of control. . . . Do you realize that if you had just waited for me like you were supposed to, then the bl -Alice wouldn't have been able to see you jump? Nothing would have changed. We'd probably be in my garage right now, like any other Saturday. There wouldn't be any vampires in Forks, and you and me
. . ." He trailed off, deep in thought.
It was disconcerting the way he said this, like it would be a good thing to have no vampires in Forks. My heart thumped unevenly at the emptiness of the picture he painted.
"Edward would have come back anyway."
"Are you sure about that?" he asked, belligerent again as soon as I spoke Edward's name. "Being apart . . . It didn't work out so well for either of us."
He started to say something, something angry from his expression, but he stopped himself,
took a breath, and began again. "Did you know Sam is mad at you?"
"Me?" It took me a second. "Oh. I see. He thinks they would have stayed away if I wasn't here."
"No. That's not it." "What's his problem then?"
Jacob leaned down to scoop up another rock. He turned it over and over in his fingers; his eyes were riveted on the black stone while he spoke in a low voice.
"When Sam saw . . . how you were in the beginning, when Billy told them how Charlie worried when you didn't get better, and then when you started jumping off cliffs . . ."
I made a face. No one was ever going to let me forget that.
Jacob's eyes flashed up to mine. "He thought you were the one person in the world with as much reason to hate the Cullens as he does. Sam feels sort of . . . betrayed that you would just let them back into your life like they never hurt you."
I didn't believe for a second that Sam was the only one who felt that way. And the acid in my voice now was for both of them.
"You can tell Sam to go right to -"
"Look at that," Jacob interrupted me, pointing to an eagle in the act of plummeting down toward the ocean from an incredible height. It checked itself at the last minute, only its talons breaking the surface of the waves, just for an instant. Then it flapped away, its wings straining against the load of the huge fish it had snagged.
"You see it everywhere," Jacob said, his voice suddenly distant. "Nature taking its course - hunter and prey, the endless cycle of life and death."
I didn't understand the point of the nature lecture; I guessed that he was just trying to change the subject. But then he looked down at me with dark humor in his eyes.
"And yet, you don't see the fish trying to plant a kiss on the eagle. You never see that ." He grinned a mocking grin.
I grinned back tightly, though the acid taste was still in my mouth. "Maybe the fish was trying," I suggested. "It's hard to tell what a fish is thinking. Eagles are good-looking birds, you know."
"Is that what it comes down to?" His voice was abruptly sharper. "Good looks?"
"Don't be stupid, Jacob."
"Is it the money, then?" he persisted.
"That's nice," I muttered, getting up from the tree. "I'm flattered that you think so much of me." I turned my back on him and paced away.
"Aw, don't get mad." He was right behind me; he caught my wrist and spun me around. "I'm serious! I'm trying to understand here, and I'm coming up blank."
His eyebrows pushed together angrily, and his eyes were black in their deep shadow.
"I lovehim . Not because he's beautiful or because he's rich !" I spat the word at Jacob. "I'd much rather he weren't either one. It would even out the gap between us just a little bit - because he'd still be the most loving and unselfish and brilliant and decent person I've ever met. Of course I love him. How hard is that to understand?"
"It's impossible to understand."
"Please enlighten me, then, Jacob." I let the sarcasm flow thick. "What is a valid reason for someone to love someone else? Since apparently I'm doing it wrong."
"I think the best place to start would be to look within your own species. That usually works."
"Well, that just sucks!" I snapped. "I guess I'm stuck with Mike Newton after all."
Jacob flinched back and bit his lip. I could see that my words had hurt him, but I was too mad to feel bad about that yet. He dropped my wrist and folded his arms across his chest, turning from me to glare toward the ocean.
"I'm human," he muttered, his voice almost inaudible.
"You're not as human as Mike," I continued ruthlessly. "Do you still think that's the most important consideration?"
"It's not the same thing." Jacob didn't look away from the gray waves. "I didn't choose this."
I laughed once in disbelief. "Do you think Edward did? He didn't know what was happening to him any more than you did. He didn't exactly sign up for this."
Jacob was shaking his head back and forth with a small, quick movement.
"You know, Jacob, you're awfully self-righteous - considering that you're a werewolf and all."
"It's not the same," Jacob repeated, glowering at me.
"I don't see why not. You could be a bit more understanding about the Cullens. You have no idea how truly good they are - to the core, Jacob."
He frowned more deeply. "They shouldn't exist. Their existence goes against nature."
I stared at him for a long moment with one eyebrow raised incredulously. It was a while before he noticed.
"What?"
"Speaking of unnatural . . . ," I hinted.
"Bella," he said, his voice slow and different. Aged. I realized that he sounded suddenly older than me - like a parent or a teacher. "What I am was born in me. It's a part of who I am, who my family is, who we all are as a tribe - it's the reason why we're still here.
"Besides that" - he looked down at me, his black eyes unreadable - "I am still human."
He picked up my hand and pressed it to his fever-warm chest. Through his t-shirt, I could feel the steady beating of his heart under my palm.
"Normal humans can't throw motorcycles around the way you can."
He smiled a faint, half-smile. "Normal humans run away from monsters, Bella. And I never claimed to be normal. Just human."
Staying angry with Jacob was too much work. I started to smile as I pulled my hand away from his chest.
"You look plenty human to me," I allowed. "At the moment."
"I feel human." He stared past me, his face far away. His lower lip trembled, and he bit down on it hard.
"Oh, Jake," I whispered, reaching for his hand.
This was why I was here. This was why I would take whatever reception waited for me when I got back. Because, underneath all the anger and the sarcasm, Jacob was in pain. Right now, it was very clear in his eyes. I didn't know how to help him, but I knew I had to try. It was more than that I owed him. It was because his pain hurt me, too. Jacob had become a part of me, and there was no changing that now.
5. IMPRINT
"ARE YOU OKAY, JAKE? CHARLIE SAID YOU WERE HAVING a hard time. Isn't
it getting any better?"
His warm hand curled around mine. "'S not so bad," he said, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.
He walked slowly back to the driftwood bench, staring at the rainbow-colored pebbles, and pulling me along at his side. I sat back down on our tree, but he sat on the wet, rocky ground rather than next to me. I wondered if it was so that he could hide his face more easily. He kept my hand.
I started babbling to fill the silence. "It's been so long since I was here. I've probably missed a ton of things. How are Sam and Emily? And Embry? Did Quil -?"
I broke off mid-sentence, remembering that Jacob's friend Quil had been a sensitive subject. "Ah, Quil," Jacob sighed.
So then it must have happened - Quil must have joined the pack. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.
To my surprise, Jacob snorted. "Don't say that to him ." "What do you mean?"
"Quil's not looking for pity. Just the opposite - he's jazzed. Totally thrilled."
This made no sense to me. All the other wolves had been so depressed at the idea of their friend sharing their fate. "Huh?"
Jacob tilted his head back to look at me. He smiled and rolled his eyes.
"Quil thinks it's the coolest thing that's ever happened to him. Part of it is finally knowing what's going on. And he's excited to have his friends back - to be part of the 'in crowd.'" Jacob snorted again. "Shouldn't be surprised, I guess. It's so Quil ."
"He likes it?"
"Honestly most of them do," Jacob admitted slowly. "There are definitely good sides to
this - the speed, the freedom, the strength . . . the sense of – of family Sam and I are the
only ones who ever felt really bitter. And Sam got past that a long time ago. So I'm the crybaby now." Jacob laughed at himself.
There were so many things I wanted to know. "Why are you and Sam different? What happened to Sam anyway? What's his problem?" The questions tumbled out without room to answer them, and Jacob laughed again.
"That's a long story."
"I told you a long story. Besides, I'm not in any hurry to get back," I said, and then I grimaced as I thought of the trouble I would be in.
He looked up at me swiftly, hearing the double edge in my words. "Will he be mad at you?" "Yes," I admitted. "He really hates it when I do things he considers . . . risky."
"Like hanging out with werewolves." "Yeah."
Jacob shrugged. "So don't go back. I'll sleep on the couch."
"That's a great idea," I grumbled. "Because then he would come looking for me." Jacob stiffened, and then smiled bleakly. "Would he?"
"If he was afraid I was hurt or something - probably." "My idea's sounding better all the time."
"Please, Jake. That really bugs me." "What does?"
"That you two are so ready to kill each other!" I complained. "It makes me crazy. Why can't you both just be civilized?"
"Is he ready to kill me?" Jacob asked with a grim smile, unconcerned by my anger.
"Not like you seem to be!" I realized I was yelling. "At least he can be a grown-up about this. He knows that hurting you would hurt me - and so he never would. You don't seem to care about that at all!"
"Yeah, right," Jacob muttered. "I'm sure he's quite the pacifist."
"Ugh!" I ripped my hand out of his and shoved his head away. Then I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms tightly around them.
I glared out toward the horizon, fuming.
Jacob was quiet for a few minutes. Finally, he got up off the ground and sat beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders. I shook it off.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "I'll try to behave myself." I didn't answer.
"Do you still want to hear about Sam?" he offered. I shrugged.
"Like I said, it's a long story. And very . . . strange. There're so many strange things about this new life. I haven't had time to tell you the half of it. And this thing with Sam - well, I don't know if I'll even be able to explain it right."
His words pricked my curiosity in spite of my irritation. "I'm listening," I said stiffly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the side of his face pull up in a smile.
"Sam had it so much harder than the rest of us. Because he was the first, and he was alone, and he didn't have anyone to tell him what was happening. Sam's grandfather died before he was born, and his father has never been around. There was no one there to recognize the signs. The first time it happened - the first time he phased - he thought he'd gone insane. It took him two weeks to calm down enough to change back.
"This was before you came to Forks, so you wouldn't remember. Sam's mother and Leah Clearwater had the forest rangers searching for him, the police. People thought there had been an accident or something. "
"Leah?" I asked, surprised. Leah was Harry's daughter. Hearing her name sent an automatic surge of pity through me. Harry Clearwater, Charlie's life-long friend, had died of a heart attack this past spring.
His voice changed, became heavier. "Yeah. Leah and Sam were high school sweethearts. They started dating when she was just a freshman. She was frantic when he disappeared."
"But he and Emily -"
"I'll get to that - it's part of the story," he said. He inhaled slowly, and then exhaled in a gust.
I supposed it was silly for me to imagine that Sam had never loved anyone before Emily. Most people fall in and out of love many times in their lives. It was just that I'd seen Sam with Emily, and I couldn't imagine him with someone else. The way he looked at her . . . well, it reminded me of a look I'd seen sometimes in Edward's eyes - when he was looking at me.
"Sam came back," Jacob said, "but he wouldn't talk to anyone about where he'd been. Rumors flew - that he was up to no good, mostly. And then Sam happened to run in to Quil's grandfather one afternoon when Old Quil Ateara came to visit Mrs. Uley. Sam shook his hand. Old Quil just about had a stroke." Jacob paused to laugh.
"Why?"
Jacob put his hand on my cheek and pulled my face around to look at him - he was leaning toward me, his face was just a few inches away. His palm burned my skin, like he had a fever.
"Oh, right," I said. It was uncomfortable, having my face so close to his with his hand hot against my skin. "Sam was running a temperature."
Jacob laughed again. "Sam's hand felt like he'd left it sitting on a hot stovetop."
He was so close, I could feel his warm breath. I reached up casually, to take his hand away and free my face, but wound my fingers through his so that I wouldn't hurt his feelings. He smiled and leaned back, undeceived by my attempt at nonchalance.
"So Mr. Ateara went straight to the other elders," Jacob went on. "They were the only ones left who still knew, who remembered. Mr. Ateara, Billy, and Harry had actually seen their grandfathers make the change. When Old Quil told them, they met with Sam secretly and explained.
"It was easier when he understood - when he wasn't alone anymore. They knew he wouldn't be the only one affected by the Cullens' return" - he pronounced the name with unconscious bitterness - "but no one else was old enough. So Sam waited for the rest of us to join him. . .
."
"The Cullens had no idea," I said in a whisper. "They didn't think that werewolves still existed here. They didn't know that coming here would change you."
"It doesn't change the fact that it did." "Remind me not to get on your bad side."
"You think I should be as forgiving as you are? We can't all be saints and martyrs." "Grow up, Jacob."
"I wish I could," he murmured quietly.
I stared at him, trying to make sense of his response. "What?" Jacob chuckled. "One of those many strange things I mentioned."
"You . . . can't . . . grow up?" I said blankly. "You're what? Not . . .aging ? Is that a joke?" "Nope." He popped his lips on the P.
I felt blood flood my face. Tears - tears of rage - filled my eyes. My teeth mashed together with an audible grinding sound.
"Bella? What did I say?"
I was on my feet again, my hands balled up into fists, my whole frame shaking. "You. Are. Not. Aging," I growled through my teeth.
Jacob tugged my arm gently, trying to make me sit. "None of us are. What's wrong with you?"
"Am I the only one who has to get old ? I get older every stinking day!" I nearly shrieked, throwing my hands in the air. Some little part of me recognized that I was throwing a Charlie-esque fit, but that rational part was greatly overshadowed by the irrational part. "Damn it! What kind of world is this? Where's the justice ?"
"Take it easy, Bella."
"Shut up, Jacob. Just shut up! This is so unfair!"
"Did you seriously just stamp your foot? I thought girls only did that on TV." I growled unimpressively.
"It's not as bad as you seem to think it is. Sit down and I'll explain." "I'll stand."
He rolled his eyes. "Okay. Whatever you want. But listen, I will get older . . . someday." "Explain."
He patted the tree. I glowered for a second, but then sat; my temper had burned out as suddenly as it had flared and I'd calmed down enough to realize that I was making a fool of myself.
"When we get enough control to quit . . . ," Jacob said. "When we stop phasing for a solid length of time, we age again. It's not easy." He shook his head, abruptly doubtful. "It's gonna take a really long time to learn that kind of restraint, I think. Even Sam's not there yet. 'Course it doesn't help that there's a huge coven of vampires right down the road. We can't even think about quitting when the tribe needs protectors. But you shouldn't get all bent out of shape about it, anyway, because I'm already older than you, physically at least."
"What are you talking about?"
"Look at me, Bells. Do I look sixteen?"
I glanced up and down his mammoth frame, trying to be unbiased. "Not exactly, I guess."
"Not at all. Because we reach full growth inside of a few months when the werewolf gene gets triggered. It's one hell of a growth spurt." He made a face. "Physically, I'm probably twenty-five or something. So there's no need for you to freak out about being too old for me
for at least another seven years."
Twenty-five or something .The idea messed with my head. But I remembered that growth spurt - I remembered watching him shoot up and fill out right before my eyes. I remembered how he would look different from one day to the next. I shook my head, feeling dizzy.
"So, did you want to hear about Sam, or did you want to scream at me some more for things that are out of my control?"
I took a deep breath. "Sorry. Age is a touchy subject for me. That hit a nerve."
Jacob's eyes tightened, and he looked as if he were trying to decide how to word something.
Since I didn't want to talk about the truly touchy stuff - my plans for the future, or treaties that might be broken by said plans, I prompted him. "So once Sam understood what was going on, once he had Billy and Harry and Mr. Ateara, you said it wasn't so hard anymore. And, like you also said, there are the cool parts. " I hesitated briefly. "Why does Sam hate
them so much? Why does he wish I would hate them?" Jacob sighed. "This is the really weird part."
"I'm a pro at weird."
"Yeah, I know." He grinned before he continued. "So, you're right. Sam knew what was going on, and everything was almost okay. In most ways, his life was back to, well, not normal. But better." Then Jacob's expression tightened, like something painful was coming. "Sam couldn't tell Leah. We aren't supposed to tell anyone who doesn't have to know. And it wasn't really safe for him to be around her - but he cheated, just like I did with you. Leah was furious that he wouldn't tell her what was going on - where he'd been, where he went at night, why he was always so exhausted - but they were working it out. They were trying. They really loved each other."
"Did she find out? Is that what happened?"
He shook his head. "No, that wasn't the problem. Her cousin, Emily Young, came down from the Makah reservation to visit her one weekend."
I gasped. "Emily is Leah's cousin?"
"Second cousins. They're close, though. They were like sisters when they were kids." "That's . . . horrible. How could Sam ?" I trailed off, shaking my head.
"Don't judge him just yet. Did anyone ever tell you Have you ever heard of imprinting ?"
"Imprinting?" I repeated the unfamiliar word. "No. What's that mean?"
"It's one of those bizarre things we have to deal with. It doesn't happen to everyone. In fact,
it's the rare exception, not the rule. Sam had heard all the stories by then, the stories we all used to think were legends. He'd heard of imprinting, but he never dreamed . . ."
"What is it?" I prodded.
Jacob's eyes strayed to the ocean. "Sam did love Leah. But when he saw Emily, that didn't matter anymore. Sometimes . . . we don't exactly know why . . . we find our mates that way." His eyes flashed back to me, his face reddening. "I mean . . . our soul mates."
"What way? Love at first sight?" I snickered.
Jacob wasn't smiling. His dark eyes were critical of my reaction. "It's a little bit more powerful than that. More absolute."
"Sorry," I muttered. "You're serious, aren't you?" "Yeah, I am."
"Love at first sight? But more powerful?" My voice still sounded dubious, and he could hear that.
"It's not easy to explain. It doesn't matter, anyway." He shrugged indifferently. "You wanted to know what happened to Sam to make him hate the vampires for changing him, to make him hate himself. And that's what happened. He broke Leah's heart. He went back on every promise he'd ever made her. Every day he has to see the accusation in her eyes, and know that she's right."
He stopped talking abruptly, as if he'd said something he hadn't meant to.
"How did Emily deal with this? If she was so close to Leah . . . ?" Sam and Emily were utterly right together, two puzzle pieces, shaped for each other exactly. Still . . . how had Emily gotten past the fact that he'd belonged to someone else? Her sister, almost.
"She was real angry, in the beginning. But it's hard to resist that level of commitment and adoration." Jacob sighed. "And then, Sam could tell her everything. There are no rules that can bind you when you find your other half. You know how she got hurt?"
"Yeah." The story in Forks was that she was mauled by a bear, but I was in on the secret.
Werewolves are unstable, Edward had said. The people near them get hurt.
"Well, weirdly enough, that was sort of how they resolved things. Sam was so horrified, so sickened by himself, so full of hate for what he'd done. . . . He would have thrown himself under a bus if it would have made her feel better. He might have anyway, just to escape what he'd done. He was shattered. Then, somehow, she was the one comforting him , and after
that. "
Jacob didn't finish his thought, and I sensed the story had gotten too personal to share. "Poor Emily," I whispered. "Poor Sam. Poor Leah. "
"Yeah, Leah got the worst end of the stick," he agreed. "She puts on a brave face. She's going to be a bridesmaid."
I gazed away, toward the jagged rocks that rose from the ocean like stubby broken-off fingers on the south rim of the harbor, while I tried to make sense of it all. I could feel his eyes on my face, waiting for me to say something.
"Did it happen to you?" I finally asked, still looking away. "This love-at-first-sight thing?" "No," he answered briskly. "Sam and Jared are the only ones."
"Hmm," I said, trying to sound only politely interested. I was relieved, and I tried to explain my reaction to myself. I decided I was just glad he didn't claim there was some mystical, wolfy connection between the two of us. Our relationship was confusing enough as it was. I didn't need any more of the supernatural than I already had to deal with.
He was quiet, too, and the silence felt a little awkward. My intuition told me that I didn't want to hear what he was thinking.
"How did that work out for Jared?" I asked to break the silence.
"No drama there. It was just a girl he'd sat next to in school every day for a year and never looked at twice. And then, after he changed, he saw her again and never looked away. Kim was thrilled. She'd had a huge crush on him. She'd had his last name tacked on to the end of hers all over in her diary." He laughed mockingly.
I frowned. "Did Jared tell you that? He shouldn't have."
Jacob bit his lip. "I guess I shouldn't laugh. It was funny, though." "Some soul mate."
He sighed. "Jared didn't tell us anything on purpose. I already told you this part, remember?" "Oh, yeah. You can hear each other's thoughts, but only when you're wolves, right?" "Right. Just like your bloodsucker." He glowered.
"Edward," I corrected.
"Sure, sure. That's how come I know so much about how Sam felt. It's not like he would have told us all that if he'd had a choice. Actually, that's something we all hate." The bitterness was abruptly harsh in his voice. "It's awful. No privacy, no secrets. Everything you're ashamed of, laid out for everyone to see." He shuddered.
"It sounds horrible," I whispered.
"It is sometimes helpful when we need to coordinate," he said grudgingly. "Once in a blue moon, when some bloodsucker crosses into our territory. Laurent was fun. And if the Cullens hadn't gotten in our way last Saturday . . . ugh!" he groaned. "We could have had her!" His fists clenched into angry balls.
I flinched. As much as I worried about Jasper or Emmett getting hurt, it was nothing like the panic I felt at the idea of Jacob going up against Victoria. Emmett and Jasper were the closest thing to indestructible I could imagine. Jacob was still warm, still comparatively human. Mortal. I thought of Jacob facing Victoria, her brilliant hair blowing around her oddly feline face . . . and shuddered.
Jacob looked up at me with a curious expression. "But isn't it like that for you all the time? Having him in your head?"
"Oh, no. Edward's never in my head. He only wishes." Jacob's expression became confused.
"He can't hear me," I explained, my voice a tiny bit smug from old habit. "I'm the only one like that, for him. We don't know why he can't."
"Weird," Jacob said.
"Yeah." The smugness faded. "It probably means there's something wrong with my brain," I admitted.
"I already knew there was something wrong with your brain," Jacob muttered. "Thanks."
The sun broke through the clouds suddenly, a surprise I hadn't been expecting, and I had to narrow my eyes against the glare off the water. Everything changed color - the waves turned from gray to blue, the trees from dull olive to brilliant jade, and the rainbow-hued pebbles glittered like jewels.
We squinted for a moment, letting our eyes adjust. There were no sounds besides the hollow roar of the waves that echoed from every side of the sheltered harbor, the soft grinding of the stones against each other under the water's movement, and the cry of gulls high overhead. It was very peaceful.
Jacob settled closer to me, so that he was leaning against my arm. He was so warm. After a minute of this, I shrugged out of my rain jacket. He made a little sound of contentment in the back of his throat, and rested his cheek on the top of my head. I could feel the sun heat my skin - thought it was not quite as warm as Jacob - and I wondered idly how long it would take me to burn.
Absentmindedly, I twisted my right hand to the side, and watched the sunlight glitter subtly off the scar James had left there.
"What are you thinking about?" he murmured. "The sun."
"Mmm. It's nice."
"What are you thinking about?" I asked.
He chuckled to himself. "I was remembering that moronic movie you took me to. And Mike Newton puking all over everything."
I laughed, too, surprised by how time had changed the memory. It used to be one of stress, of confusion. So much had changed that night. And now I could laugh. It was the last night
Jacob and I had had before he'd learned the truth about his heritage. The last human memory. An oddly pleasant memory now.
"I miss that," Jacob said. "The way it used to be so easy uncomplicated. I'm glad I've got
a good memory." He sighed.
He felt the sudden tension in my body as his words triggered a memory of my own. "What is it?" he asked.
"About that good memory of yours " I pulled away from him so that I could read his face.
At the moment, it was confused. "Do you mind telling me what you were doing Monday morning? You were thinking something that bothered Edward." Bothered wasn't quite the word for it, but I wanted an answer, so I thought it was best not to start out too severely.
Jacob's face brightened with understanding, and he laughed. "I was just thinking about you. Didn't like that much, did he?"
"Me? What about me?"
Jacob laughed, with a harder edge this time. "I was remembering the way you looked that night Sam found you - I've seen it in his head, and it's like I was there; that memory has always haunted Sam, you know. And then I remembered how you looked the first time you came to my place. I bet you don't even realize what a mess you were then, Bella. It was weeks before you started to look human again. And I remembered how you always used to have your arms wrapped around yourself, trying to hold yourself together. " Jacob winced,
and then shook his head. "It's hard for me to remember how sad you were, and it wasn't my fault. So I figured it would be harder for him. And I thought he ought to get a look at what he'd done."
I smacked his shoulder. It hurt my hand. "Jacob Black, don't you ever do that again! Promise
me you won't."
"No way. I haven't had that much fun in months." "So help me, Jake -"
"Oh, get a grip, Bella. When am I ever going to see him again? Don't worry about it." I got to my feet, and he caught my hand as I started to walk away. I tried to tug free. "I'm leaving, Jacob."
"No, don't go yet," he protested, his hand tightening around mine. "I'm sorry. And . . . okay, I won't do it again. Promise."
I sighed. "Thanks, Jake."
"Come on, we'll go back to my house," he said eagerly.
"Actually, I think I really do need to go. Angela Weber is expecting me, and I know Alice is worried. I don't want to upset her too much."
"But you just got here!"
"It feels that way," I agreed. I glared up at the sun, somehow already directly overhead. How had the time passed so quickly?
His eyebrows pulled down over his eyes. "I don't know when I'll see you again," he said in a hurt voice.
"I'll come back the next time he's away," I promised impulsively.
"Away?" Jacob rolled his eyes. "That's a nice way to describe what he's doing. Disgusting parasites."
"If you can't be nice, I won't come back at all!" I threatened, trying to pull my hand free. He refused to let go.
"Aw, don't be mad," he said, grinning. "Knee-jerk reaction."
"If I'm going to try to come back again, you're going to have to get something straight, okay?"
He waited.
"See," I explained. "I don't care who's a vampire and who's a werewolf. That's irrelevant. You are Jacob, and he is Edward, and I am Bella. And nothing else matters."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "But I am a werewolf," he said unwillingly. "And he is a
vampire," he added with obvious revulsion. "And I'm a Virgo!" I shouted, exasperated.
He raised his eyebrows, measuring my expression with curious eyes. Finally, he shrugged. "If you can really see it that way . . ."
"I can. I do."
"Okay. Just Bella and Jacob. None of those freaky Virgos here." He smiled at me, the warm, familiar smile that I had missed so much. I felt the answering smile spread across my face.
"I've really missed you, Jake," I admitted impulsively.
"Me, too," his smile widened. His eyes were happy and clear, free for once of the angry bitterness. "More than you know. Will you come back soon?"
"As soon as I can," I promised.
6. SWITZERLAND
AS I DROVE HOME, I WASN'T PAYING MUCH ATTENTION TO the road that
shimmered wetly in the sun. I was thinking about the flood of information Jacob had shared with me, trying to sort it out, to force it all to make sense. Despite the overload, I felt lighter. Seeing Jacob smile, having all the secrets thrashed out . . . it didn't make things perfect, but it made them better. I was right to have gone. Jacob needed me. And obviously, I thought as I squinted into the glare, there was no danger.
It came out of nowhere. One minute there was nothing but bright highway in my rearview mirror. The next minute, the sun was glinting off a silver Volvo right on my tail.
"Aw, crap," I whimpered.
I considered pulling over. But I was too much of a coward to face him right away. I'd been counting on some prep time . . . and having Charlie nearby as a buffer. At least that would force him to keep his voice down.
The Volvo followed inches behind me. I kept my eyes on the road ahead.
Chicken through and through, I drove straight to Angela's without once meeting the gaze I could feel burning a hole in my mirror.
He followed me until I pulled to the curb in front of the Webers' house. He didn't stop, and I didn't look up as he passed. I didn't want to see the expression on his face. I ran up the short concrete walk to Angela's door as soon as he was out of sight.
Ben answered the door before I could finish knocking, like he'd been standing right behind it. "Hey, Bella!" he said, surprised.
"Hi, Ben. Er, is Angela here?" I wondered if Angela had forgotten our plans, and cringed at the thought of going home early.
"Sure," Ben said just as Angela called, "Bella!" and appeared at the top of the stairs.
Ben peered around me as we both heard the sound of a car on the road; the sound didn't scare me - this engine stuttered to a stop, followed by the loud pop of a backfire. Nothing like the purr of the Volvo. This must be the visitor Ben had been waiting for.
"Austin's here," Ben said as Angela reached his side. A horn honked on the street.
"I'll see you later," Ben promised. "Miss you already."
He threw his arm around Angela's neck and pulled her face down to his height so that he
could kiss her enthusiastically. After a second of this, Austin honked again. "'Bye, Ang! Love you!" Ben shouted as he dashed past me.
Angela swayed, her face slightly pink, then recovered herself and waved until Ben and Austin were out of sight. Then she turned to me and grinned ruefully.
"Thank you for doing this, Bella," she said. "From the bottom of my heart. Not only are you saving my hands from permanent injury, you also just spared me two long hours of a plot-less, badly dubbed martial arts film." She sighed in relief.
"Happy to be of service." I was feeling a bit less panicked, able to breathe a little more evenly. It felt so ordinary here. Angela's easy human dramas were oddly reassuring. It was nice to know that life was normal somewhere .
I followed Angela up the stairs to her room. She kicked toys out of the way as she went. The house was unusually quiet.
"Where's your family?"
"My parents took the twins to a birthday party in Port Angeles. I can't believe you're really going to help me with this. Ben's pretending he has tendonitis." She made a face.
"I don't mind at all," I said, and then I walked into Angela's room and saw the stacks of waiting envelopes.
"Oh!" I gasped. Angela turned to look at me, apologies in her eyes. I could see why she'd been putting this off, and why Ben had weaseled out.
"I thought you were exaggerating," I admitted. "I wish. Are you sure you want to do this?" "Put me to work. I've got all day."
Angela divided a pile in half and put her mother's address book between us on her desk. For a while we concentrated, and there was just the sound of our pens scratching quietly across the paper.
"What's Edward doing tonight?" she asked after a few minutes.
My pen dug into the envelope I was working on. "Emmet's home for the weekend. They're
supposed to be hiking."
"You say that like you're not sure." I shrugged.
"You're lucky Edward has his brothers for all the hiking and camping. I don't know what I'd do if Ben didn't have Austin for the guy stuff."
"Yeah, the outdoors thing is not really for me. And there's no way I'd ever be able to keep up."
Angela laughed. "I prefer the indoors myself."
She focused on her pile for a minute. I wrote out four more addresses. There was never any pressure to fill a pause with meaningless chatter around Angela. Like Charlie, she was comfortable with silence.
But, like Charlie, she was also too observant sometimes.
"Is something wrong?" she asked in a low voice now. "You seem . . . anxious." I smiled sheepishly. "Is it that obvious?"
"Not really."
She was probably lying to make me feel better.
"You don't have to talk about it unless you want to," she assured me. "I'll listen if you think it will help."
I was about to say thanks, but no thanks . After all, there were just too many secrets I was bound to keep. I really couldn't discuss my problems with someone human. That was against the rules.
And yet, with a strange, sudden intensity, that's exactly what I wanted. I wanted to talk to a normal human girlfriend. I wanted to moan a little bit, like any other teenage girl. I wanted my problems to be that simple. It would also be nice to have someone outside the whole vampire-werewolf mess to put things in perspective. Someone unbiased.
"I'll mind my own business," Angela promised, smiling down at the address she was working on.
"No," I said. "You're right. I am anxious. It's . . . it's Edward." "What's wrong?"
It was so easy to talk to Angela. When she asked a question like that, I could tell that she wasn't just morbidly curious or looking for gossip, like Jessica would have been. She cared that I was upset.
"Oh, he's mad at me."
"That's hard to imagine," she said. "What's he mad about?"
I sighed. "Do you remember Jacob Black?" "Ah," she said.
"Yeah."
"He's jealous."
"No, not jealous . . ." I should have kept my mouth shut. There was no way to explain this right. But I wanted to keep talking anyway. I hadn't realized I was so starved for human conversation. "Edward thinks Jacob is . . . a bad influence, I guess. Sort of . . . dangerous. You know how much trouble I got in a few months back. It's all ridiculous, though."
I was surprised to see Angela shaking her head. "What?" I asked.
"Bella, I've seen how Jacob Black looks at you. I'd bet the real problem is jealousy." "It's not like that with Jacob."
"For you, maybe. But for Jacob "
I frowned. "Jacob knows how I feel. I've told him everything." "Edward's only human, Bella. He's going to react like any other boy." I grimaced. I didn't have a response to that.
She patted my hand. "He'll get over it."
"I hope so. Jake's going through kind of a tough time. He needs me." "You and Jacob are pretty close, aren't you?"
"Like family," I agreed.
"And Edward doesn't like him. . . . That must be hard. I wonder how Ben would handle that?" she mused.
I half-smiled. "Probably just like any other boy." She grinned. "Probably."
Then she changed the subject. Angela wasn't one to pry, and she seemed to sense I wouldn't
- couldn't - say any more.
"I got my dorm assignment yesterday. The farthest building from campus, naturally."
"Does Ben know where he's staying yet?"
"The closest dorm to campus. He's got all the luck. How about you? Did you decide where you're going?"
I stared down, concentrating on the clumsy scrawl of my handwriting. For a second I was distracted by the thought of Angela and Ben at the University of Washington. They would be off to Seattle in just a few months. Would it be safe then? Would the wild young vampire menace have moved elsewhere? Would there be a new place by then, some other city flinching from horror-movie headlines?
Would those new headlines be my fault?
I tried to shake it off and answered her question a beat late. "Alaska, I think. The university there in Juneau."
I could hear the surprise in her voice. "Alaska? Oh. Really? I mean, that's great. I just figured you'd go somewhere . . . warmer."
I laughed a little, still staring at the envelope. "Yeah. Forks has really changed my perspective on life."
"And Edward?"
Though his name set butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I looked up and grinned at her. "Alaska's not too cold for Edward, either."
She grinned back. "Of course not." And then she sighed. "It's so far. You won't be able to come home very often. I'll miss you. Will you e-mail me?"
A swell of quiet sadness crashed over me; maybe it was a mistake to get closer to Angela now. But wouldn't it be sadder still to miss out on these last chances? I shook off the unhappy thoughts, so that I could answer her teasingly.
"If I can type again after this." I nodded toward the stack of envelopes I'd done.
We laughed, and it was easy then to chat cheerfully about classes and majors while we finished the rest - all I had to do was not think about it. Anyway, there were more urgent things to worry about today.
I helped her put the stamps on, too. I was afraid to leave. "How's your hand?" she asked.
I flexed my fingers. "I think I'll recover the full use of it . . . someday." The door banged downstairs, and we both looked up.
"Ang?" Ben called.
I tried to smile, but my lips trembled. "I guess that's my cue to leave."
"You don't have to go. Though he's probably going to describe the movie for me . . . in detail."
"Charlie will be wondering where I am anyway." "Thanks for helping me."
"I had a good time, actually. We should do something like this again. It was nice to have some girl time."
"Definitely."
There was a light knock on the bedroom door. "Come in, Ben," Angela said.
I got up and stretched.
"Hey, Bella! You survived," Ben greeted me quickly before going to take my place by Angela. He eyed our work. "Nice job. Too bad there's nothing left to do, I would have . . ." He let the thought trail off, and then restarted excitedly. "Ang, I can't believe you missed this one! It was awesome. There was this final fight sequence - the choreography was unbelievable! This one guy - well, you're going to have to see it to know what I'm talking about -"
Angela rolled her eyes at me.
"See you at school," I said with a nervous laugh. She sighed. "See you."
I was jumpy on the way out to my truck, but the street was empty. I spent the whole drive glancing anxiously in all my mirrors, but there was never any sign of the silver car.
His car was not in front of the house, either, though that meant little. "Bella?" Charlie called when I opened the front door.
"Hey, Dad."
I found him in the living room, in front of the TV. "So, how was your day?"
"Good," I said. Might as well tell him everything - he'd hear it from Billy soon enough. Besides, it would make him happy. "They didn't need me at work, so I went down to La Push."
There wasn't enough surprise in his face. Billy had already talked to him. "How's Jacob?" Charlie asked, attempting to sound indifferent.
"Good," I said, just as casual. "You get over to the Webers'?"
"Yep. We got all her announcements addressed."
"That's nice." Charlie smiled a wide smile. He was strangely focused, considering that there was a game on. "I'm glad you spent some time with your friends today."
"Me, too."
I ambled toward the kitchen, looking for busy work. Unfortunately, Charlie had already cleaned up his lunch. I stood there for a few minutes, staring at the bright patch of light the sun made on the floor. But I knew I couldn't delay this forever.
"I'm going to go study," I announced glumly as I headed up the stairs. "See you later," Charlie called after me.
If I survive, I thought to myself.
I shut my bedroom door carefully before I turned to face my room.
Of course he was there. He stood against the wall across from me, in the shadow beside the open window. His face was hard and his posture tense. He glared at me wordlessly.
I cringed, waiting for the torrent, but it didn't come. He just continued to glare, possibly too angry to speak.
"Hi," I finally said.
His face could have been carved from stone. I counted to a hundred in my head, but there was no change.
"Er . . . so, I'm still alive," I began.
A growl rumbled low in his chest, but his expression didn't change. "No harm done," I insisted with a shrug.
He moved. His eyes closed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between the fingers of his right hand.
"Bella," he whispered. "Do you have any idea how close I came to crossing the line today? To breaking the treaty and coming after you? Do you know what that would have meant?"
I gasped and his eyes opened. They were as cold and hard as night.
"You can't!" I said too loudly. I worked to modulate the volume of my voice so Charlie wouldn't hear, but I wanted to shout the words. "Edward, they'd use any excuse for a fight. They'd love that. You can't ever break the rules!"
"Maybe they aren't the only ones who would enjoy a fight."
"Don't you start," I snapped. "You made the treaty - you stick to it." "If he'd hurt you -"
"Enough!" I cut him off. "There's nothing to worry about. Jacob isn't dangerous."
"Bella." He rolled his eyes. "You aren't exactly the best judge of what is or isn't dangerous." "I know I don't have to worry about Jake. And neither do you."
He ground his teeth together. His hands were balled up in fists at his sides. He was still standing against the wall, and I hated the space between us.
I took a deep breath, and crossed the room. He didn't move when I wrapped my arms around him. Next to the warmth of the last of the afternoon sun streaming through the window, his skin felt especially icy. He seemed like ice, too, frozen the way he was.
"I'm sorry I made you anxious," I muttered.
He sighed, and relaxed a little. His arms wound around my waist.
"Anxious is a bit of an understatement," he murmured. "It was a very long day."
"You weren't supposed to know about it," I reminded him. "I thought you'd be hunting longer."
I looked up at his face, at his defensive eyes; I hadn't noticed in the stress of the moment, but they were too dark. The rings under them were deep purple. I frowned in disapproval.
"When Alice saw you disappear, I came back," he explained.
"You shouldn't have done that. Now you'll have to go away again." My frown intensified. "I can wait."
"That's ridiculous. I mean, I know she couldn't see me with Jacob, but you should have known -"
"But I didn't," he broke in. "And you can't expect me to let you -" "Oh, yes, I can," I interrupted him. "That's exactly what I expect -" "This won't happen again."
"That's right! Because you're not going to overreact next time." "Because there isn't going to be a next time."
"I understand when you have to leave, even if I don't like it -" "That's not the same. I'm not risking my life."
"Neither am I."
"Werewolves constitute a risk." "I disagree."
"I'm not negotiating this, Bella." "Neither am I."
His hands were in fists again. I could feel them against my back.
The words popped out thoughtlessly. "Is this really just about my safety?" "What do you mean?" he demanded.
"You aren't . . ." Angela's theory seemed sillier now than before. It was hard to finish the thought. "I mean, you know better than to be jealous, right?"
He raised one eyebrow. "Do I?" "Be serious."
"Easily - there's nothing remotely humorous about this."
I frowned suspiciously. "Or . . . is this something else altogether? Some vampires-and-werewolves-are-always-enemies nonsense? Is this just a testosterone-fueled -"
His eyes blazed. "This is only about you. All I care is that you're safe." The black fire in his eyes was impossible to doubt.
"Okay," I sighed. "I believe that. But I want you to know something - when it comes to all this enemies nonsense, I'm out. I am a neutral country. I am Switzerland. I refuse to be affected by territorial disputes between mythical creatures. Jacob is family. You are . . . well, not exactly the love of my life, because I expect to love you for much longer than that. The love of my existence. I don't care who's a werewolf and who's a vampire. If Angela turns out to be a witch, she can join the party, too."
He stared at me silently through narrowed eyes. "Switzerland," I repeated again for emphasis.
He frowned at me, and then sighed. "Bella . . . ," he began, but he paused, and his nose wrinkled in disgust.
"What now?"
"Well . . . don't be offended, but you smell like a dog," he told me. And then he smiled crookedly, so I knew the fight was over. For now.
Edward had to make up for the missed hunting trip, and so he was leaving Friday night with Jasper, Emmett, and Carlisle to hit some reserve in Northern California with a mountain lion problem.
We'd come to no agreement on the werewolf issue, but I didn't feel guilty calling Jake - during my brief window of opportunity when Edward took the Volvo home before climbing back in through my window - to let him know I'd be coming over on Saturday again. It wasn't sneaking around. Edward knew how I felt. And if he broke my truck again, then I'd have Jacob pick me up. Forks was neutral, just like Switzerland - just like me.
So when I got off work Thursday and it was Alice rather than Edward waiting for me in the Volvo, I was not suspicious at first. The passenger door was open, and music I didn't recognize was shaking the frame when the bass played.
"Hey, Alice," I shouted over the wailing as I climbed in. "Where's your brother?"
She was singing along to the song, her voice an octave higher than the melody, weaving through it with a complicated harmony. She nodded at me, ignoring my question as she concentrated on the music.
I shut my door and put my hands over my ears. She grinned, and turned the volume down until it was just background. Then she hit the locks and the gas in the same second.
"What's going on?" I asked, starting to feel uneasy. "Where is Edward?" She shrugged. "They left early."
"Oh." I tried to control the absurd disappointment. If he left early, that meant he'd be back sooner, I reminded myself.
"All the boys went, and we're having a slumber party!" she announced in a trilling, singsong voice.
"A slumber party?" I repeated, the suspicion finally settling in. "Aren't you excited?" she crowed.
I met her animated gaze for a long second. "You're kidnapping me, aren't you?"
She laughed and nodded. "Till Saturday. Esme cleared it with Charlie; you're staying with me two nights, and I will drive you to and from school tomorrow."
I turned my face to the window, my teeth grinding together.
"Sorry," Alice said, not sounding in the least bit penitent. "He paid me off." "How?" I hissed through my teeth.
"The Porsche. It's exactly like the one I stole in Italy." She sighed happily. "I'm not supposed to drive it around Forks, but if you want, we could see how long it takes to get from here to
L.A. - I bet I could have you back by midnight."
I took a deep breath. "I think I'll pass," I sighed, repressing a shudder.
We wound, always too fast, down the long drive. Alice pulled around to the garage, and I quickly looked over the cars. Emmett's big jeep was there, with a shiny canary yellow Porsche between it and Rosalie's red convertible.
Alice hopped out gracefully and went to stroke her hand along the length of her bribe. "Pretty, isn't it?"
"Pretty over-the-top," I grumbled, incredulous. "He gave you that just for two days of holding me hostage?"
Alice made a face.
A second later, comprehension came and I gasped in horror. "It's for every time he's gone, isn't it?"
She nodded.
I slammed my door and stomped toward the house. She danced along next to me, still unrepentant.
"Alice, don't you think this is just a little bit controlling? Just a tiny bit psychotic, maybe?"
"Not really." She sniffed. "You don't seem to grasp how dangerous a young werewolf can be. Especially when I can't see them. Edward has no way to know if you're safe. You shouldn't be so reckless."
My voice turned acidic. "Yes, because a vampire slumber party is the pinnacle of safety conscious behavior."
Alice laughed. "I'll give you a pedicure and everything," she promised.
It wasn't so bad, except for the fact that I was being held against my will. Esme brought Italian food - the good stuff, all the way from Port Angeles - and Alice was prepared with my favorite movies. Even Rosalie was there, quietly in the background. Alice did insist on the pedicure, and I wondered if she was working from a list - maybe something she'd compiled from watching bad sitcoms.
"How late do you want to stay up?" she asked when my toenails were glistening a bloody red. Her enthusiasm remained untouched by my mood.
"I don't want to stay up. We have school in the morning." She pouted.
"Where am I supposed to sleep, anyway?" I measured the couch with my eyes. It was a little short. "Can't you just keep me under surveillance at my house?"
"What kind of a slumber party would that be?" Alice shook her head in exasperation. "You're sleeping in Edward's room."
I sighed. His black leather sofa was longer than this one. Actually, the gold carpet in his room was probably thick enough that the floor wouldn't be half bad either.
"Can I go back to my place to get my things, at least?" She grinned. "Already taken care of."
"Am I allowed to use your phone?" "Charlie knows where you are."
"I wasn't going to call Charlie." I frowned. "Apparently, I have some plans to cancel." "Oh." She deliberated. "I'm not sure about that."
"Alice!" I whined loudly. "C'mon!"
"Okay, okay," she said, flitting from the room. She was back in half a second, cell phone in
hand. "He didn't specifically prohibit this . . . ," she murmured to herself as she handed it to me.
I dialed Jacob's number, hoping he wasn't out running with his friends tonight. Luck was with me - Jacob was the one to answer.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Jake, it's me." Alice watched me with expressionless eyes for a second, before she turned and went to sit between Rosalie and Esme on the sofa.
"Hi, Bella," Jacob said, suddenly cautious. "What's up?" "Nothing good. I can't come over Saturday after all."
It was silent for a minute. "Stupid bloodsucker," he finally muttered. "I thought he was leaving. Can't you have a life when he's gone? Or does he lock you in a coffin?"
I laughed.
"I don't think that's funny."
"I'm only laughing because you're close," I told him. "But he's going to be here Saturday, so it doesn't matter."
"Will he be feeding there in Forks, then?" Jacob asked cuttingly.
"No." I didn't let myself get irritated with him. I wasn't that far from being as angry as he was. "He left early."
"Oh. Well, hey, come over now, then," he said with sudden enthusiasm. "It's not that late. Or I'll come up to Charlie's."
"I wish. I'm not at Charlie's," I said sourly. "I'm kind of being held prisoner."
He was silent as that sunk in, and then he growled. "We'll come and get you," he promised in a flat voice, slipping automatically into a plural.
A chill slid down my spine, but I answered in a light and teasing voice. "Tempting. I have
been tortured - Alice painted my toenails." "I'm serious."
"Don't be. They're just trying to keep me safe." He growled again.
"I know it's silly, but their hearts are in the right place."
"Their hearts !" he scoffed.
"Sorry about Saturday," I apologized. "I've got to hit the sack" - the couch, I corrected mentally - "but I'll call you again soon."
"Are you sure they'll let you?" he asked in a scathing tone. "Not completely." I sighed. "'Night, Jake."
"See you around."
Alice was abruptly at my side, her hand held out for the phone, but I was already dialing. She saw the number.
"I don't think he'll have his phone on him," she said. "I'll leave a message."
The phone rang four times, followed by a beep. There was no greeting.
"You are in trouble," I said slowly, emphasizing each word. "Enormous trouble. Angry grizzly bears are going to look tame next to what is waiting for you at home."
I snapped the phone shut and placed it in her waiting hand. "I'm done." She grinned. "This hostage stuff is fun."
"I'm going to sleep now," I announced, heading for the stairs. Alice tagged along.
"Alice," I sighed. "I'm not going to sneak out. You would know if I was planning to, and you'd catch me if I tried."
"I'm just going to show you where your things are," she said innocently.
Edward's room was at the farthest end of the third floor hallway, hard to mistake even when the huge house had been less familiar. But when I switched the light on, I paused in confusion. Had I picked the wrong door?
Alice giggled.
It was the same room, I realized quickly; the furniture had just been rearranged. The couch was pushed to the north wall and the stereo shoved up against the vast shelves of CDs - to make room for the colossal bed that now dominated the central space.
The southern wall of glass reflected the scene back like a mirror, making it look twice as bad.
It matched. The coverlet was a dull gold, just lighter than the walls; the frame was black, made of intricately patterned wrought iron. Sculpted metal roses wound in vines up the tall
posts and formed a bowery lattice overhead. My pajamas were folded neatly on the foot of the bed, my bag of toiletries to one side.
"What the hell is all this?" I spluttered.
"You didn't really think he would make you sleep on the couch, did you?"
I mumbled unintelligibly as I stalked forward to snatch my things off the bed. "I'll give you some privacy," Alice laughed. "See you in the morning."
After my teeth were brushed and I was dressed, I grabbed a puffy feather pillow off the huge bed and dragged the gold cover to the couch. I knew I was being silly, but I didn't care. Porsches as bribes and king-sized beds in houses where nobody slept - it was beyond irritating. I flipped off the lights and curled up on the sofa, wondering if I was too annoyed to sleep.
In the dark, the glass wall was no longer a black mirror, doubling the room. The light of the moon brightened the clouds outside the window. As my eyes adjusted, I could see the diffused glow highlighting the tops of the trees, and glinting off a small slice of the river. I watched the silver light, waiting for my eyes to get heavy.
There was a light knock on the door.
"What, Alice?" I hissed. I was on the defensive, imagining her amusement when she saw my makeshift bed.
"It's me," Rosalie said softly, opening the door enough that I could see the silver glow touch her perfect face. "Can I come in?"
7. UNHAPPY ENDING
ROSALIE HESITATED IN THE DOORWAY, HER BREATHTAKING face unsure.
"Of course," I replied, my voice an octave high with surprise. "Come on in."
I sat up, sliding to the end of the sofa to make room. My stomach twisted nervously as the one Cullen who did not like me moved silently to sit down in the open space. I tried to come up with a reason why she would want to see me, but my mind was a blank on that point.
"Do you mind talking to me for a few minutes?" she asked. "I didn't wake you or anything, did I?" Her eyes shifted to the stripped bed and back to my couch.
"No, I was awake. Sure, we can talk." I wondered if she could hear the alarm in my voice as clearly as I could.
She laughed lightly, and it sounded like a chorus of bells. "He so rarely leaves you alone," she said. "I figured I'd better make the best of this opportunity."
What did she want to say that couldn't be said in front of Edward? My hands twisted and untwisted around the edge of the comforter.
"Please don't think I'm horribly interfering," Rosalie said, her voice gentle and almost pleading. She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them as she spoke. "I'm sure I've hurt your feelings enough in the past, and I don't want to do that again."
"Don't worry about it, Rosalie. My feelings are great. What is it?"
She laughed again, sounding oddly embarrassed. "I'm going to try to tell you why I think you should stay human - why I would stay human if I were you."
"Oh."
She smiled at the shocked tone of my voice, and then she sighed.
"Did Edward ever tell you what led to this?" she asked, gesturing to her glorious immortal body.
I nodded slowly, suddenly somber. "He said it was close to what happened to me that time in Port Angeles, only no one was there to save you ." I shuddered at the memory.
"Is that really all he told you?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, my voice blank with confusion. "Was there more?"
She looked up at me and smiled; it was a harsh, bitter - but still stunning - expression. "Yes," she said. "There was more."
I waited while she stared out the window. She seemed to be trying to calm herself.
"Would you like to hear my story, Bella? It doesn't have a happy ending - but which of ours does? If we had happy endings, we'd all be under gravestones now."
I nodded, though I was frightened by the edge in her voice.
"I lived in a different world than you do, Bella. My human world was a much simpler place. It was nineteen thirty-three. I was eighteen, and I was beautiful. My life was perfect."
She stared out the window at the silver clouds, her expression far away.
"My parents were thoroughly middle class. My father had a stable job in a bank, something I realize now that he was smug about - he saw his prosperity as a reward for talent and hard work, rather than acknowledging the luck involved. I took it all for granted then; in my home, it was as if the Great Depression was only a troublesome rumor. Of course I saw the poor people, the ones who weren't as lucky. My father left me with the impression that they'd brought their troubles on themselves.
"It was my mother's job to keep our house - and myself and my two younger brothers - in spotless order. It was clear that I was both her first priority and her favorite. I didn't fully understand at the time, but I was always vaguely aware that my parents weren't satisfied with what they had, even if it was so much more than most. They wanted more. They had social aspirations - social climbers, I suppose you could call them. My beauty was like a gift to them. They saw so much more potential in it than I did.
"They weren't satisfied, but I was. I was thrilled to be me, to be Rosalie Hale. Pleased that men's eyes watched me everywhere I went, from the year I turned twelve. Delighted that my girlfriends sighed with envy when they touched my hair. Happy that my mother was proud of me and that my father liked to buy me pretty dresses.
"I knew what I wanted out of life, and there didn't seem to be any way that I wouldn't get exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be loved, to be adored. I wanted to have a huge, flowery wedding, where everyone in town would watch me walk down the aisle on my father's arm and think I was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. Admiration was like air to me, Bella. I was silly and shallow, but I was content." She smiled, amused at her own evaluation.
"My parents' influence had been such that I also wanted the material things of life. I wanted a big house with elegant furnishings that someone else would clean and a modern kitchen that someone else would cook in. As I said, shallow. Young and very shallow. And I didn't see any reason why I wouldn't get these things.
"There were a few things I wanted that were more meaningful. One thing in particular. My very closest friend was a girl named Vera. She married young, just seventeen. She married a man my parents would never have considered for me - a carpenter. A year later she had a son, a beautiful little boy with dimples and curly black hair. It was the first time I'd ever felt truly
jealous of anyone else in my entire life."
She looked at me with unfathomable eyes. "It was a different time. I was the same age as you, but I was ready for it all. I yearned for my own little baby. I wanted my own house and a husband who would kiss me when he got home from work - just like Vera. Only I had a very different kind of house in mind. "
It was hard for me to imagine the world that Rosalie had known. Her story sounded more like a fairy tale than history to me. With a slight shock, I realized that this was very close to the world that Edward would have experienced when he was human, the world he had grown up in. I wondered - while Rosalie sat silent for a moment - if my world seemed as baffling to him as Rosalie's did to me?
Rosalie sighed, and when she spoke again her voice was different, the wistfulness gone.
"In Rochester, there was one royal family - the Kings, ironically enough. Royce King owned the bank my father worked at, and nearly every other really profitable business in town. That's how his son, Royce King the Second" - her mouth twisted around the name, it came out through her teeth - "saw me the first time. He was going to take over at the bank, and so he began overseeing the different positions. Two days later, my mother conveniently forgot to send my father's lunch to work with him. I remember being confused when she insisted that I wear my white organza and roll my hair up just to run over to the bank." Rosalie laughed without humor.
"I didn't notice Royce watching me particularly. Everyone watched me. But that night the first of the roses came. Every night of our courtship, he sent a bouquet of roses to me. My room was always overflowing with them. It got to the point that I would smell like roses when I left the house.
"Royce was handsome, too. He had lighter hair than I did, and pale blue eyes. He said my eyes were like violets, and then those started showing up alongside the roses.
"My parents approved - that's putting it mildly. This was everything they'd dreamed of. And Royce seemed to be everything I'd dreamed of. The fairy tale prince, come to make me a princess. Everything I wanted, yet it was still no more than I expected. We were engaged before I'd known him for two months.
"We didn't spend a great deal of time alone with each other. Royce told me he had many responsibilities at work, and, when we were together, he liked people to look at us, to see me on his arm. I liked that, too. There were lots of parties, dancing, and pretty dresses. When you were a King, every door was open for you, every red carpet rolled out to greet you.
"It wasn't a long engagement. Plans went ahead for the most lavish wedding. It was going to be everything I'd ever wanted. I was completely happy. When I called at Vera's, I no longer felt jealous. I pictured my fair-haired children playing on the huge lawns of the Kings' estate, and I pitied her."
Rosalie broke off suddenly, clenching her teeth together. It pulled me out of her story, and I realized that the horror was not far off. There would be no happy ending, as she'd promised. I wondered if this was why she had so much more bitterness in her than the rest of them - because she'd been within reach of everything she'd wanted when her human life was cut short.
"I was at Vera's that night," Rosalie whispered. Her face was smooth as marble, and as hard. "Her little Henry really was adorable, all smiles and dimples - he was just sitting up on his own. Vera walked me to the door as I was leaving, her baby in her arms and her husband at her side, his arm around her waist. He kissed her on the cheek when he thought I wasn't looking. That bothered me. When Royce kissed me, it wasn't quite the same - not so sweet somehow. . . . I shoved that thought aside. Royce was my prince. Someday, I would be queen."
It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but it looked like her bone white face got paler.
"It was dark in the streets, the lamps already on. I hadn't realized how late it was." She continued to whisper almost inaudibly. "It was cold, too. Very cold for late April. The wedding was only a week away, and I was worrying about the weather as I hurried home - I can remember that clearly. I remember every detail about that night. I clung to it so hard . . . in the beginning. I thought of nothing else. And so I remember this, when so many pleasant memories have faded away completely. "
She sighed, and began whispering again. "Yes, I was worrying about the weather. I didn't
want to have to move the wedding indoors. . . .
"I was a few streets from my house when I heard them. A cluster of men under a broken streetlamp, laughing too loud. Drunk. I wished I'd called my father to escort me home, but the way was so short, it seemed silly. And then he called my name.
"'Rose!' he yelled, and the others laughed stupidly.
"I hadn't realized the drunks were so well dressed. It was Royce and some of his friends, sons of other rich men.
"'Here's my Rose!' Royce shouted, laughing with them, sounding just as stupid. 'You're late. We're cold, you've kept us waiting so long.'"
"I'd never seen him drink before. A toast, now and then, at a party. He'd told me he didn't like champagne. I hadn't realized that he preferred something much stronger.
"He had a new friend - the friend of a friend, come up from Atlanta.
"'What did I tell you, John,' Royce crowed, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer. 'Isn't she lovelier than all your Georgia peaches?'
"The man named John was dark-haired and suntanned. He looked me over like I was a horse he was buying.
"'It's hard to tell,' he drawled slowly. 'She's all covered up.' "They laughed, Royce like the rest.
"Suddenly, Royce ripped my jacket from my shoulders - it was a gift from him - popping the brass buttons off. They scattered all over the street.
"'Show him what you look like, Rose!' He laughed again and then he tore my hat out of my hair. The pins wrenched my hair from the roots, and I cried out in pain. They seemed to enjoy that - the sound of my pain. "
Rosalie looked at me suddenly, as if she'd forgotten I was there. I was sure my face was as white as hers. Unless it was green.
"I won't make you listen to the rest," she said quietly. "They left me in the street, still laughing as they stumbled away. They thought I was dead. They were teasing Royce that he would have to find a new bride. He laughed and said he'd have to learn some patience first.
"I waited in the road to die. It was cold, though there was so much pain that I was surprised it bothered me. It started to snow, and I wondered why I wasn't dying. I was impatient for death to come, to end the pain. It was taking so long. . . .
"Carlisle found me then. He'd smelled the blood, and come to investigate. I remember being vaguely irritated as he worked over me, trying to save my life. I'd never liked Dr. Cullen or his wife and her brother - as Edward pretended to be then. It had upset me that they were all more beautiful than I was, especially that the men were. But they didn't mingle in society, so I'd only seen them once or twice.
"I thought I'd died when he pulled me from the ground and ran with me - because of the speed - it felt like I was flying. I remembered being horrified that the pain didn't stop. . . .
"Then I was in a bright room, and it was warm. I was slipping away, and I was grateful as the pain began to dull. But suddenly something sharp was cutting me, my throat, my wrists, my ankles. I screamed in shock, thinking he'd brought me there to hurt me more. Then fire started burning through me, and I didn't care about anything else. I begged him to kill me. When Esme and Edward returned home, I begged them to kill me, too. Carlisle sat with me. He held my hand and said that he was so sorry, promising that it would end. He told me everything, and sometimes I listened. He told me what he was, what I was becoming. I didn't believe him. He apologized each time I screamed.
"Edward wasn't happy. I remember hearing them discuss me. I stopped screaming sometimes. It did no good to scream.
"'What were you thinking, Carlisle?' Edward said. 'Rosalie Hale?'" Rosalie imitated Edward's irritated tone to perfection. "I didn't like the way he said my name, like there was something wrong with me.
"'I couldn't just let her die,' Carlisle said quietly. 'It was too much - too horrible, too much waste.'
"'I know,' Edward said, and I thought he sounded dismissive. It angered me. I didn't know then that he really could see exactly what Carlisle had seen.
"'It was too much waste. I couldn't leave her,' Carlisle repeated in a whisper. "'Of course you couldn't,' Esme agreed.
"'People die all the time,' Edward reminded him in a hard voice. 'Don't you think she's just a little recognizable, though? The Kings will have to put up a huge search - not that anyone suspects the fiend,' he growled.
"It pleased me that they seemed to know that Royce was guilty.
"I didn't realize that it was almost over - that I was getting stronger and that was why I was able to concentrate on what they were saying. The pain was beginning to fade from my fingertips.
"'What are we going to do with her?' Edward said disgustedly - or that's how it sounded to me, at least.
"Carlisle sighed. 'That's up to her, of course. She may want to go her own way.'
"I'd believed enough of what he'd told me that his words terrified me. I knew that my life was ended, and there was no going back for me. I couldn't stand the thought of being alone. .
. .
"The pain finally ended and they explained to me again what I was. This time I believed. I felt the thirst, my hard skin; I saw my brilliant red eyes.
"Shallow as I was, I felt better when I saw my reflection in the mirror the first time. Despite the eyes, I was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen." She laughed at herself for a moment. "It took some time before I began to blame the beauty for what had happened to me - for me to see the curse of it. To wish that I had been . . . well, not ugly, but normal. Like Vera. So I could have been allowed to marry someone who lovedme, and have pretty babies. That's what I'd really wanted, all along. It still doesn't seem like too much to have asked for."
She was thoughtful for a moment, and I wondered if she'd forgotten my presence again. But then she smiled at me, her expression suddenly triumphant.
"You know, my record is almost as clean as Carlisle's," she told me. "Better than Esme. A
thousand times better than Edward. I've never tasted human blood," she announced proudly.
She understood my puzzled expression as I wondered why her record was onlyalmost as clean.
"I did murder five humans," she told me in a complacent tone. "If you can really call themhuman . But I was very careful not to spill their blood - I knew I wouldn't be able to resist that, and I didn't want any part of themin me, you see.
"I saved Royce for last. I hoped that he would hear of his friends' deaths and understand, know what was coming for him. I hoped the fear would make the end worse for him. I think it worked. He was hiding inside a windowless room behind a door as thick as a bank vault's, guarded outside by armed men, when I caught up with him. Oops - seven murders," she corrected herself. "I forgot about his guards. They only took a second."
"I was overly theatrical. It was kind of childish, really. I wore a wedding dress I'd stolen for the occasion. He screamed when he saw me. He screamed a lot that night. Saving him for last was a good idea - it made it easier for me to control myself, to make it slower -"
She broke off suddenly, and she glanced down at me. "I'm sorry," she said in a chagrined voice. "I'm frightening you, aren't I?"
"I'm fine," I lied.
"I got carried away." "Don't worry about it."
"I'm surprised Edward didn't tell you more about it."
"He doesn't like to tell other people's stories - he feels like he's betraying confidences, because he hears so much more than just the parts they mean for him to hear."
She smiled and shook her head. "I probably ought to give him more credit. He's really quite decent, isn't he?"
"Ithink so."
"I can tell." Then she sighed. "I haven't been fair to you, either, Bella. Did he tell you why? Or was that too confidential?"
"He said it was because I was human. He said it was harder for you to have someone on the outside who knew."
Rosalie's musical laughter interrupted me. "Now I really feel guilty. He's been much, much kinder to me than I deserve." She seemed warmer as she laughed, like she'd let down some guard that had never been absent in my presence before. "What a liar that boy is." She
laughed again.
"He was lying?" I asked, suddenly wary.
"Well, that's probably putting it too strongly. He just didn't tell you the whole story. What he told you was true, even truer now than it was before. However, at the time . . ." She broke off, chuckling nervously. "It's embarrassing. You see, at first, I was mostly jealous because he wantedyou and not me."
Her words sent a thrill of fear through me. Sitting there in the silver light, she was more beautiful than anything else I could imagine. I could not compete with Rosalie.
"But you love Emmett . . . ," I mumbled.
She shook her head back and forth, amused. "I don't want Edward that way, Bella. I never did - I love him as a brother, but he's irritated me from the first moment I heard him speak. You have to understand, though . . . I was so used to people wantingme . And Edward wasn't the least bit interested. It frustrated me, even offended me in the beginning. But he never wanted anyone, so it didn't bother me long. Even when we first met Tanya's clan in Denali - all those females! - Edward never showed the slightest preference. And then he met you." She looked at me with confused eyes. I was only half paying attention. I was thinking about Edward and Tanya andall those females, and my lips pressed together in a hard line.
"Not that you aren't pretty, Bella," she said, misreading my expression. "But it just meant that he found you more attractive than me. I'm vain enough that I minded."
"But you said 'at first.' That doesn't still . . . bother you, does it? I mean, we both know you're the most beautiful person on the planet."
I laughed at having to say the words - it was so obvious. How odd that Rosalie should need such reassurances.
Rosalie laughed, too. "Thanks, Bella. And no, it doesn't really bother me anymore. Edward has always been a little strange." She laughed again.
"But you still don't like me," I whispered. Her smile faded. "I'm sorry about that."
We sat in silence for a moment, and she didn't seem inclined to go on.
"Would you tell me why? Did I do something . . . ?" Was she angry that I'd put her family - her Emmett - in danger? Time and time again. James, and now Victoria . . .
"No, you haven't done anything," she murmured. "Not yet." I stared at her, perplexed.
"Don't you see, Bella?" Her voice was suddenly more passionate than before, even while she'd told her unhappy story. "You already haveeverything . You have a whole life ahead of you - everything I want. And you're going to justthrow it away . Can't you see that I'd trade everything I have to be you? You have the choice that I didn't have, and you're choosingwrong !"
I flinched back from her fierce expression. I realized my mouth had fallen open and I snapped it shut.
She stared at me for a long moment and, slowly, the fervor in her eyes dimmed. Abruptly, she was abashed.
"And I was so sure that I could do this calmly." She shook her head, seeming a little dazed by the flood of emotion. "It's just that it's harder now than it was then, when it was no more than vanity."
She stared at the moon in silence. It was a few moments before I was brave enough to break into her reverie.
"Would you like me better if I chose to stay human?"
She turned back to me, her lips twitching into a hint of a smile. "Maybe."
"You did get some of your happy ending, though," I reminded her. "You got Emmett."
"I got half." She grinned. "You know that I saved Emmett from a bear that was mauling him, and carried him home to Carlisle. But can you guess why I stopped the bear from eating him?"
I shook my head.
"With the dark curls . . . the dimples that showed even while he was grimacing in pain . . . the strange innocence that seemed so out of place on a grown man's face . . . he reminded me of Vera's little Henry. I didn't want him to die - so much that, even though I hated this life, I was selfish enough to ask Carlisle to change him for me.
"I got luckier than I deserved. Emmett is everything I would have asked for if I'd known myself well enough to know what to ask for. He's exactly the kind of person someone like me needs. And, oddly enough, he needs me, too. That part worked out better than I could have hoped. But there will never be more than the two of us. And I'll never sit on a porch somewhere, with him gray-haired by my side, surrounded by our grandchildren."
Her smile was kind now. "That sounds quite bizarre to you, doesn't it? In some ways, you are much more mature than I was at eighteen. But in other ways . . . there are many things you've probably never thought about seriously. You're too young to know what you'll want in ten years, fifteen years - and too young to give it all up without thinking it through. You
don't want to be rash about permanent things, Bella." She patted my head, but the gesture didn't feel condescending.
I sighed.
"Just think about it a little. Once it's done, it can't be undone. Esme's made do with us as substitutes . . . and Alice doesn't remember anything human so she can't miss it. You will
remember, though. It's a lot to give up."
But more to get in return,I didn't say aloud. "Thanks, Rosalie. It's nice to understand to
know you better."
"I apologize for being such a monster." She grinned. "I'll try to behave myself from now on." I grinned back at her.
We weren't friends yet, but I was pretty sure she wouldn't always hate me so much.
"I'll let you sleep now." Rosalie's eyes flickered to the bed, and her lips twitched. "I know you're frustrated that he's keeping you locked up like this, but don't give him too bad a time when he gets back. He loves you more than you know. It terrifies him to be away from you." She got up silently and ghosted to the door. "Goodnight, Bella," she whispered as she shut it behind herself.
"Goodnight, Rosalie," I murmured a second too late. It took me a long time to fall asleep after that.
When I did sleep, I had a nightmare. I was crawling across the dark, cold stones of an unfamiliar street, under lightly falling snow, leaving a trail of blood smeared behind me. A shadowy angel in a long white dress watched my progress with resentful eyes.
The next morning, Alice drove me to school while I stared grumpily out the windshield. I was feeling sleep-deprived, and it made the irritation of my imprisonment that much stronger.
"Tonight we'll go out to Olympia or something," she promised. "That would be fun, right?" "Why don't you just lock me in the basement," I suggested, "and forget the sugar coating?"
Alice frowned. "He's going to take the Porsche back. I'm not doing a very good job. You're supposed to be having fun."
"It's not your fault," I muttered. I couldn't believe I actually felt guilty. "I'll see you at lunch."
I trudged off to English. Without Edward, the day was guaranteed to be unbearable. I sulked through my first class, well aware that my attitude wasn't helping anything.
When the bell rang, I got up without much enthusiasm. Mike was there at the door, holding
it open for me.
"Edward hiking this weekend?" he asked sociably as we walked out into the light rain. "Yeah."
"You want to do something tonight?" How could he still sound hopeful?
"Can't. I've got a slumber party," I grumbled. He gave me a strange look as he processed my mood.
"Who are you -"
Mike's question was cut short as a loud, growling roar erupted from behind us in the parking lot. Everyone on the sidewalk turned to look, staring in disbelief as the noisy black motorcycle screeched to a stop on the edge of the concrete, the engine still snarling.
Jacob waved to me urgently.
"Run, Bella!" he yelled over the engine's roar. I was frozen for a second before I understood.
I looked at Mike quickly. I knew I only had seconds. How far would Alice go to restrain me in public?
"I got really sick and went home, okay?" I said to Mike, my voice filled with sudden excitement.
"Fine," he muttered.
I pecked Mike swiftly on the cheek. "Thanks, Mike. I owe you one!" I called as I sprinted away.
Jacob revved his engine, grinning. I jumped on the back of his seat, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist.
I caught sight of Alice, frozen at the edge of the cafeteria, her eyes sparking with fury, her lip curled back over her teeth.
I shot her one pleading glance.
Then we were racing across the blacktop so fast that my stomach got lost somewhere behind me.
"Hold on," Jacob shouted.
I hid my face in his back as he sped down the highway. I knew he would slow down when we hit the Quileute border. I just had to hold on till then. I prayed silently and fervently that Alice wouldn't follow, and that Charlie wouldn't happen to see me. . . .
It was obvious when we had reached the safe zone. The bike slowed, and Jacob straightened up and howled with laughter. I opened my eyes.
"We made it," he shouted. "Not bad for a prison break, eh?" "Good thinking, Jake."
"I remembered what you said about the psychic leech not being about to predict whatI'm going to do. I'm gladyou didn't think of this - she wouldn't have let you go to school."
"That's why I didn't consider it."
He laughed triumphantly. "What do you want to do today?" "Anything!" I laughed back. It felt great to be free.
8. TEMPER
WE ENDED UP ON THE BEACH AGAIN, WANDERING AIMlessly. Jacob was still full of himself for engineering my escape.
"Do you think they'll come looking for you?" he asked, sounding hopeful.
"No." I was certain about that. "They're going to be furious with me tonight, though."
He picked up a rock and chucked it into the waves. "Don't go back, then," he suggested again.
"Charlie would love that," I said sarcastically. "I bet he wouldn't mind."
I didn't answer. Jacob was probably right, and that made me grind my teeth together. Charlie's blatant preference for my Quileute friends was so unfair. I wondered if he would feel the same if he knew the choice was really between vampires and werewolves.
"So what's the latest pack scandal?" I asked lightly.
Jacob skidded to a halt, and he stared down at me with shocked eyes. "What? That was a joke."
"Oh." He looked away.
I waited for him to start walking again, but he seemed lost in thought. "Isthere a scandal?" I wondered.
Jacob chuckled once. "I forget what it's like, not having everyone know everything all the time. Having a quiet, private place inside my head."
We walked along the stony beach quietly for a few minutes.
"So what is it?" I finally asked. "That everyone in your head already knows?"
He hesitated for a moment, as if he weren't sure how much he was going to tell me. Then he sighed and said, "Quil imprinted. That's three now. The rest of us are starting to get worried. Maybe it's more common than the stories say. . . ." He frowned, and then turned to stare at me. He gazed into my eyes without speaking, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
"What are you staring at?" I asked, feeling self-conscious. He sighed. "Nothing."
Jacob started walking again. Without seeming to think about it, he reached out and took my hand. We paced silently across the rocks.
I thought of how we must look walking hand and hand down the beach - like a couple, certainly - and wondered if I should object. But this was the way it had always been with Jacob. No reason to get worked up about it now.
"Why is Quil's imprinting such a scandal?" I asked when it didn't look like he was going to go on. "Is it because he's the newest one?"
"That doesn't have anything to do with it." "Then what's the problem?"
"It's another one of those legend things. I wonder when we're going to stop being surprised that they'reall true?" he muttered to himself.
"Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to guess?"
"You'd never get it right. See, Quil hasn't been hanging out with us, you know, until just recently. So he hadn't been around Emily's place much."
"Quil imprinted on Emily, too?" I gasped.
"No! I told you not to guess. Emily had her two nieces down for a visit and Quil met
Claire."
He didn't continue. I thought about that for a moment.
"Emily doesn't want her niece with a werewolf? That's a little hypocritical," I said.
But I could understand why she of all people might feel that way. I thought again of the long scars that marred her face and extended all the way down her right arm. Sam had lost control just once when he was standing too close to her. Once was all it took. I'd seen the pain in
Sam's eyes when he looked at what he'd done to Emily. I could understand why Emily might want to protect her niece from that.
"Would you please stop guessing? You're way off. Emily doesn't mind that part, it's just, well, a little early."
"What do you meanearly ?"
Jacob appraised me with narrowed eyes. "Try not to be judgmental, okay?" I nodded cautiously.
"Claire is two," Jacob told me.
Rain started to fall. I blinked furiously as the drops pelted my face.
Jacob waited in silence. He wore no jacket, as usual; the rain left a spatter of dark spots on his black T-shirt, and dripped through his shaggy hair. His face was expressionless as he watched mine.
"Quil . . . imprinted . . . with atwo-year-old ?" I was finally able to ask.
"It happens." Jacob shrugged. He bent to grab another rock and sent it flying out into the bay. "Or so the stories say."
"But she's a baby," I protested.
He looked at me with dark amusement. "Quil's not getting any older," he reminded me, a bit of acid in his tone. "He'll just have to be patient for a few decades."
"I . . . don't know what to say."
I was trying my hardest not to be critical, but, in truth, I was horrified. Until now, nothing about the werewolves had bothered me since the day I'd found out they weren't committing the murders I'd suspected them of.
"You're making judgments," he accused. "I can see it on your face." "Sorry," I muttered. "But it sounds really creepy."
"It's not like that; you've got it all wrong," Jacob defended his friend, suddenly vehement. "I've seen what it's like, through his eyes. There's nothingromantic about it at all, not for Quil, not now." He took a deep breath, frustrated. "It's so hard to describe. It's not like love at first sight, really. It's more like . . . gravity moves. When you seeher, suddenly it's not the earth holding you here anymore. She does. And nothing matters more than her. And you would do anything for her, be anything for her. . . . You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend, or a brother.
"Quil will be the best, kindest big brother any kid ever had. There isn't a toddler on the planet that will be more carefully looked after than that little girl will be. And then, when she's older and needs a friend, he'll be more understanding, trustworthy, and reliable than anyone else she knows. And then, when she's grown up, they'll be as happy as Emily and Sam." A strange, bitter edge sharpened his tone at the very end, when he spoke of Sam.
"Doesn't Claire get a choice here?"
"Of course. But why wouldn't she choose him, in the end? He'll be her perfect match. Like he was designed for her alone."
We walked in silence for a moment, till I paused to toss a rock toward the ocean. It fell to the beach several meters short. Jacob laughed at me.
"We can't all be freakishly strong," I muttered. He sighed.
"When do you think it will happen for you?" I asked quietly. His answer was flat and immediate. "Never."
"It's not something you can control, is it?"
He was silent for a few minutes. Unconsciously, we both walked slower, barely moving at all.
"It's not supposed to be," he admitted. "But you have tosee her - the one that's supposedly meant for you."
"And you think that if you haven't seen her yet, then she's not out there?" I asked skeptically. "Jacob, you haven't really seen much of the world - less than me, even."
"No, I haven't," he said in a low voice. He looked at my face with suddenly piercing eyes. "But I'll never see anyone else, Bella. I only see you. Even when I close my eyes and try to see something else. Ask Quil or Embry. It drives them all crazy."
I dropped my eyes to the rocks.
We weren't walking anymore. The only sound was of the waves beating against the shore. I couldn't hear the rain over their roar.
"Maybe I'd better go home," I whispered.
"No!" he protested, surprised by this conclusion.
I looked up at him again, and his eyes were anxious now.
"You have the whole day off, right? The bloodsucker won't be home yet." I glared at him.
"No offense intended," he said quickly. "Yes, I have the whole day. But, Jake . . ."
He held up his hands. "Sorry," he apologized. "I won't be like that anymore. I'll just be Jacob."
I sighed. "But if that's what you'rethinking . . ."
"Don't worry about me," he insisted, smiling with deliberate cheer, too brightly. "I know
what I'm doing. Just tell me if I'm upsetting you." "I don't know. "
"C'mon, Bella. Let's go back to the house and get our bikes. You've got to ride a motorcycle regularly to keep it in tune."
"I really don't think I'm allowed."
"By who? Charlie or the blood - orhim ?" "Both."
Jacob grinnedmy grin, and he was suddenly the Jacob I missed the most, sunny and warm. I couldn't help grinning back.
The rain softened, turned to mist. "I won't tell anyone," he promised. "Except every one of your friends."
He shook his head soberly and raised his right hand. "I promise not to think about it." I laughed. "If I get hurt, it was because I tripped."
"Whatever you say."
We rode our motorcycles on the back roads around La Push until the rain made them too muddy and Jacob insisted that he was going to pass out if he didn't eat soon. Billy greeted me easily when we got to the house, as if my sudden reappearance meant nothing more complicated than that I'd wanted to spend the day with my friend. After we ate the sandwiches Jacob made, we went out to the garage and I helped him clean up the bikes. I hadn't been here in months - since Edward had returned - but there was no sense of import to it. It was just another afternoon in the garage.
"This is nice," I commented when he pulled the warm sodas from the grocery bag. "I've missed this place."
He smiled, looking around at the plastic sheds bolted together over our heads. "Yeah, I can understand that. All the splendor of the Taj Mahal, without the inconvenience and expense of traveling to India."
"To Washington's little Taj Mahal," I toasted, holding up my can. He touched his can to mine.
"Do you remember last Valentine's Day? I think that was the last time you were here - the last time when things were still . . . normal, I mean."
I laughed. "Of course I remember. I traded a lifetime of servitude for a box of conversation hearts. That's not something I'm likely to forget."
He laughed with me. "That's right. Hmm, servitude. I'll have to think of something good." Then he sighed. "It feels like it was years ago. Another era. A happier one."
I couldn't agree with him. This was my happy era now. But I was surprised to realize how many things I missed from my own personal dark ages. I stared through the opening at the murky forest. The rain had picked up again, but it was warm in the little garage, sitting next to Jacob. He was as good as a furnace.
His fingers brushed my hand. "Things have really changed."
"Yeah," I said, and then I reached out and patted the back tire of my bike. "Charlieused to like me. I hope Billy doesn't say anything about today. " I bit my lip.
"He won't. He doesn't get worked up about things the way Charlie does. Hey, I never did apologize officially for that stupid move with the bike. I'm real sorry about ratting you out to Charlie. I wish I hadn't."
I rolled my eyes. "Me, too." "I'm really, really sorry."
He looked at me hopefully, his wet, tangled black hair sticking up in every direction around his pleading face.
"Oh, fine! You're forgiven." "Thanks, Bells!"
We grinned at each other for a second, and then his face clouded over.
"You know that day, when I brought the bike over . . . I've been wanting to ask you something," he said slowly. "But also not wanting to."
I held very still - a reaction to stress. It was a habit I'd picked up from Edward.
"Were you just being stubborn because you were mad at me, or were you really serious?" he whispered.
"About what?" I whispered back, though I was sure I knew what he meant.
He glared at me. "You know. When you said it was none of my business if - if he bit
you." He cringed visibly at the end.
"Jake . . ." My throat felt swollen. I couldn't finish.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Were you serious?" He was trembling just slightly. His eyes stayed closed.
"Yes," I whispered.
Jacob inhaled, slow and deep. "I guess I knew that." I stared at his face, waiting for his eyes to open.
"You know what this will mean?" He demanded suddenly. "You do understand that, don't you? What will happen if they break the treaty?"
"We'll leave first," I said in a small voice.
His eyes flashed open, their black depths full of anger and pain. "There wasn't a geographic limit to the treaty, Bella. Our great-grandfathers only agreed to keep the peace because the Cullens swore that they were different, that humans weren't in danger from them. They promised they would never kill or change anyone ever again. If they go back on their word, the treaty is meaningless, and they are no different than any other vampires. Once that's established, when we find them again -"
"But, Jake, didn't you break the treaty already?" I asked, grasping at straws. "Wasn't part of it that you not tell people about the vampires? And you told me. So isn't the treaty sort of moot, anyhow?"
Jacob didn't like the reminder; the pain in his eyes hardened into animosity. "Yeah, I broke the treaty - back before I believed any of it. And I'm sure they were informed of that." He glared sourly at my forehead, not meeting my shamed gaze. "But it's not like that gives them a freebie or anything. There's no fault for a fault. They have only one option if they object to what I did. The same option we'll have when they break the treaty: to attack. To start the war."
He made it sound so inevitable. I shuddered. "Jake, it doesn't have to be that way."
His teeth ground together. "Itis that way." The silence after his declaration felt very loud.
"Will you never forgive me, Jacob?" I whispered. As soon as I said the words, I wished I hadn't. I didn't want to hear his answer.
"You won't be Bella anymore," he told me. "My friend won't exist. There'll be no one to
forgive."
"That sounds like ano, " I whispered.
We faced each other for an endless moment. "Is this goodbye then, Jake?"
He blinked rapidly, his fierce expression melting in surprise. "Why? We still have a few years. Can't we be friends until we're out of time?"
"Years? No, Jake, not years." I shook my head, and laughed once without humor. "Weeksis more accurate."
I was not expecting his reaction.
He was suddenly on his feet, and there was a loudpop as the soda can exploded in his hand. Soda flew everywhere, soaking me, like it was spraying from a hose.
"Jake!" I started to complain, but I fell silent when I realized that his whole body was quivering with anger. He glared at me wildly, a growling sound building in his chest.
I froze in place, too shocked to remember how to move.
The shaking rolled through him, getting faster, until it looked like he was vibrating. His shape blurred. . . .
And then Jacob gritted his teeth together, and the growling stopped. He squeezed his eyes tight in concentration; the quivering slowed until only his hands were shaking.
"Weeks," Jacob said in a flat monotone. I couldn't respond; I was still frozen.
He opened his eyes. They were beyond fury now.
"He's going to change you into a filthy bloodsucker in just a fewweeks !" Jacob hissed through his teeth.
Too stunned to take offense at his words, I just nodded mutely. His face turned green under the russet skin.
"Of course, Jake," I whispered after a long minute of silence. "He'sseventeen, Jacob. And I get closer to nineteen every day. Besides, what's the point in waiting? He's all I want. What else can I do?"
I'd meant that as a rhetorical question.
His words cracked like snaps of a whip. "Anything. Anything else. You'd be better off dead. I'd rather you were."
I recoiled like he'd slapped me. It hurt worse than if he had.
And then, as the pain shot through me, my own temper burst into flame.
"Maybe you'll get lucky," I said bleakly, lurching to my feet. "Maybe I'll get hit by a truck on my way back."
I grabbed my motorcycle and pushed it out into the rain. He didn't move as I passed him. As soon as I was on the small, muddy path, I climbed on and kicked the bike to life. The rear tire spit a fountain of mud toward the garage, and I hoped that it hit him.
I got absolutely soaked as I sped across the slick highway toward the Cullens' house. The wind felt like it was freezing the rain against my skin, and my teeth were chattering before I was halfway there.
Motorcycles were too impractical for Washington. I would sell the stupid thing first chance I got.
I walked the bike into the Cullens' cavernous garage and was unsurprised to find Alice waiting for me, perched lightly on the hood of her Porsche. Alice stroked the glossy yellow paint.
"I haven't even had a chance to drive it." She sighed. "Sorry," I spit through my rattling teeth.
"You look like you could use a hot shower," she said, offhand, as she sprang lightly to her feet.
"Yep."
She pursed her lips, taking in my expression carefully. "Do you want to talk about it?" "Nope."
She nodded in assent, but her eyes were raging with curiosity. "Do you want to go to Olympia tonight?"
"Not really. Can't I go home?" She grimaced.
"Never mind, Alice," I said. "I'll stay if it makes things easier for you."
"Thanks," she sighed in relief.
I went to bed early that night, curling up on his sofa again.
It was still dark when I woke. I was groggy, but I knew it wasn't near morning yet. My eyes closed, and I stretched, rolling over. It took me a second before I realized that the movement should have dumped me onto the floor. And that I was much too comfortable.
I rolled back over, trying to see. It was darker than last night - the clouds were too thick for the moon to shine through.
"Sorry," he murmured so softly that his voice was part of the darkness. "I didn't mean to wake you."
I tensed, waiting for the fury - both his and mine - but it was only quiet and calm in the darkness of his room. I could almost taste the sweetness of reunion in the air, a separate fragrance from the perfume of his breath; the emptiness when we were apart left its own bitter aftertaste, something I didn't consciously notice until it was removed.
There was no friction in the space between us. The stillness was peaceful - not like the calm before the tempest, but like a clear night untouched by even the dream of a storm.
And I didn't care that I was supposed to be angry with him. I didn't care that I was supposed to be angry with everyone. I reached out for him, found his hands in the darkness, and pulled myself closer to him. His arms encircled me, cradling me to his chest. My lips searched, hunting along his throat, to his chin, till I finally found his lips.
Edward kissed me softly for a moment, and then he chuckled.
"I was all braced for the wrath that was going to put grizzlies to shame, and this is what I get? I should infuriate you more often."
"Give me a minute to work up to it," I teased, kissing him again.
"I'll wait as long as you want," he whispered against my lips. His fingers knotted in my hair. My breath was becoming uneven. "Maybe in the morning."
"Whatever you prefer."
"Welcome home," I said while his cold lips pressed under my jaw. "I'm glad you came back." "That's a very good thing."
"Mmm," I agreed, tightening my arms around his neck.
His hand curved around my elbow, moving slowly down my arm, across my ribs and over my waist, tracing along my hip and down my leg, around my knee. He paused there, his hand
curling around my calf. He pulled my leg up suddenly, hitching it around his hip.
I stopped breathing. This wasn't the kind of thing he usually allowed. Despite his cold hands, I felt suddenly warm. His lips moved in the hollow at the base of my throat.
"Not to bring on the ire prematurely," he whispered, "but do you mind telling me what it is about this bed that you object to?"
Before I could answer, before I could even concentrate enough to make sense of his words, he rolled to the side, pulling me on top of him. He held my face in his hands, angling it up so that his mouth could reach my throat. My breathing was too loud - it was almost embarrassing, but I couldn't care quite enough to be ashamed.
"The bed?" he asked again. "Ithink it's nice." "It's unnecessary," I managed to gasp.
He pulled my face back to his, and my lips shaped themselves around his. Slowly this time, he rolled till he hovered over me. He held himself carefully so that I felt none of his weight, but I could feel the cool marble of his body press against mine. My heart was hammering so loudly that it was hard to hear his quiet laughter.
"That's debatable," he disagreed. "This would be difficult on a couch." Cold as ice, his tongue lightly traced the shape of my lips.
My head was spinning - the air was coming too fast and shallow.
"Did you change your mind?" I asked breathlessly. Maybe he'd rethought all his careful rules. Maybe there was more significance to this bed than I'd originally guessed. My heart pounded almost painfully as I waited for his answer.
Edward sighed, rolling back so that we were on our sides again.
"Don't be ridiculous, Bella," he said, disapproval strong in his voice - clearly, he understood what I meant. "I was just trying to illustrate the benefits of the bed you don't seem to like. Don't get carried away."
"Too late," I muttered. "And I like the bed," I added.
"Good." I could hear the smile in his voice as he kissed my forehead. "I do, too."
"But I still think it's unnecessary," I continued. "If we're not going to get carried away, what's the point?"
He sighed again. "For the hundredth time, Bella - it's too dangerous." "I like danger," I insisted.
"I know." There was a sour edge to his voice, and I realized that he would have seen the motorcycle in the garage.
"I'll tell you what's dangerous," I said quickly, before he could move to a new topic of discussion. "I'm going to spontaneously combust one of these days - and you'll have no one but yourself to blame."
He started to push me away.
"What are you doing?" I objected, clinging to him.
"Protecting you from combustion. If this too much for you. "
"I can handle it," I insisted.
He let me worm myself back into the circle of his arms.
"I'm sorry I gave you the wrong impression," he said. "I didn't mean to make you unhappy. That wasn't nice."
"Actually, it was very, very nice."
He took a deep breath. "Aren't you tired? I should let you sleep."
"No, I'm not. I don't mind if you want to give me the wrong impression again." "That's probably a bad idea. You're not the only one who gets carried away." "Yes, I am," I grumbled.
He chuckled. "You have no idea, Bella. It doesn't help that you are so eager to undermine my self-control, either."
"I'm not going to apologize for that." "CanI apologize?"
"For what?"
"You were angry with me, remember?" "Oh, that."
"I'm sorry. I was wrong. It's much easier to have the proper perspective when I have you safelyhere ." His arms tightened around me. "I go a little berserk when I try to leave you. I don't think I'll go so far again. It's not worth it."
I smiled. "Didn't you find any mountain lions?"
"Yes, I did, actually. Still not worth the anxiety. I'm sorry I had Alice hold you hostage, though. That was a bad idea."
"Yes," I agreed.
"I won't do it again."
"Okay," I said easily. He was already forgiven. "But slumber parties do have their advantages. " I curled myself closer to him, pressing my lips into the indentation over his
collarbone. "Youcan hold me hostage any time you want." "Mmm," he sighed. "I may take you up on that."
"So is it my turn now?"
"Your turn?" his voice was confused. "To apologize."
"What do you have to apologize for?" "Aren't you mad at me?" I asked blankly. "No."
It sounded like he really meant it.
I felt my eyebrows pull together. "Didn't you see Alice when you got home?" "Yes - why?"
"Are you going to take her Porsche back?" "Of course not. It was a gift."
I wished I could see his expression. His voice sounded as if I'd insulted him.
"Don't you want to know what I did?" I asked, starting to be puzzled by his apparent lack of concern.
I felt him shrug. "I'm always interested in everything you do - but you don't have to tell me unless you want to."
"But I went to La Push." "I know."
"And I ditched school."
"So did I."
I stared toward the sound of his voice, tracing his features with my fingers, trying to understand his mood. "Where did all this tolerance come from?" I demanded.
He sighed.
"I decided that you were right. My problem before was more about my . . . prejudice against werewolves than anything else. I'm going to try to be more reasonable and trust your judgment. If you say it's safe, then I'll believe you."
"Wow."
"And . . . most importantly . . . I'm not willing to let this drive a wedge between us." I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes, totally content.
"So," he murmured in a casual tone. "Did you make plans to go back to La Push again soon?"
I didn't answer. His question brought back the memory of Jacob's words, and my throat was suddenly tight.
He misread my silence and the tension in my body.
"Just so that I can make my own plans," he explained quickly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to hurry back because I'm sitting around waiting for you."
"No," I said in a voice that sounded strange to me. "I don't have plans go back." "Oh. You don't have to do that for me."
"I don't think I'm welcome anymore," I whispered.
"Did you run over someone's cat?" he asked lightly. I knew he didn't want to force the story out of me, but I could hear the curiosity burning behind his words.
"No." I took a deep breath, and then mumbled quickly through the explanation. "I thought Jacob would have realized . . . I didn't think it would surprise him."
Edward waited while I hesitated.
"He wasn't expecting . . . that it was so soon." "Ah," Edward said quietly.
"He said he'd rather see me dead." My voice broke on the last word.
Edward was too still for a moment, controlling whatever reaction he didn't want me to see.
Then he crushed me gently to his chest. "I'm so sorry." "I thought you'd be glad," I whispered.
"Glad over something that's hurt you?" he murmured into my hair. "I don't think so, Bella."
I sighed and relaxed, fitting myself to the stone shape of him. But he was motionless again, tense.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "It's nothing."
"You can tell me."
He paused for a minute. "It might make you angry." "I still want to know."
He sighed. "I could quite literally kill him for saying that to you. Iwant to."
I laughed halfheartedly. "I guess it's a good thing you've got so much self-control." "I could slip." His tone was thoughtful.
"If you're going to have a lapse in control, I can think of a better place for it." I reached for his face, trying to pull myself up to kiss him. His arms held me tighter, restraining.
He sighed. "Must I always be the responsible one?"
I grinned in the darkness. "No. Let me be in charge of responsibility for a few minutes . . . or hours."
"Goodnight, Bella."
"Wait - there was something else I wanted to ask you about." "What's that?"
"I was talking to Rosalie last night. "
His body tensed again. "Yes. She was thinking about that when I got in. She gave you quite a lot to consider, didn't she?"
His voice was anxious, and I realized that he thought I wanted to talk about the reasons Rosalie'd given me for staying human. But I was interested in something much more pressing.
"She told me a little bit about the time your family lived in Denali."
There was a short pause; this beginning took him by surprise. "Yes?"
"She mentioned something about a bunch of female vampires . . . and you." He didn't answer, though I waited for a long moment.
"Don't worry," I said, after the silence had grown uncomfortable. "She told me you didn't . . . show any preference. But I was just wondering, you know, if any ofthem had. Shown a preference for you, I mean."
Again he said nothing.
"Which one?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, and not quite managing. "Or was there more than one?"
No answer. I wished I could see his face, so I could try to guess what this silence meant. "Alice will tell me," I said. "I'll go ask her right now."
His arms tightened; I was unable to squirm even an inch away.
"It's late," he said. His voice had a little edge to it that was something new. Sort of nervous, maybe a little embarrassed. "Besides, I think Alice stepped out. "
"It's bad," I guessed. "It's really bad, isn't it?" I started to panic, my heart accelerating as I imagined the gorgeous immortal rival I'd never realized I had.
"Calm down, Bella," he said, kissing the tip of my nose. "You're being absurd." "Am I? Then why won't you tell me?"
"Because there's nothing to tell. You're blowing this wildly out of proportion." "Which one?" I insisted.
He sighed. "Tanya expressed a little interest. I let her know, in a very courteous, gentlemanly fashion, that I did not return that interest. End of story."
I kept my voice as even as possible. "Tell me something - what does Tanya look like?" "Just like the rest of us - white skin, gold eyes," he answered too quickly.
"And, of course, extraordinarily beautiful." I felt him shrug.
"I suppose, to human eyes," he said, indifferent. "You know what, though?" "What?" My voice was petulant.
He put his lips right to my ear; his cold breath tickled. "I prefer brunettes." "She's a blonde. That figures."
"Strawberry blonde - not at all my type."
I thought about that for a while, trying to concentrate as his lips moved slowly along my cheek, down my throat, and back up again. He made the circuit three times before I spoke.
"Iguess that's okay, then," I decided.
"Hmm," he whispered against my skin. "You're quite adorable when you're jealous. It's surprisingly enjoyable."
I scowled into the darkness.
"It's late," he said again, murmuring, almost crooning now, his voice smoother than silk. "Sleep, my Bella. Dream happy dreams. You are the only one who has ever touched my heart. It will always be yours. Sleep, my only love."
He started to hum my lullaby, and I knew it was only a matter of time till I succumbed, so I closed my eyes and snuggled closer into his chest.
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Super-strength drugs linked to hundreds of deaths have been found in samples of fake medicines bought across the UK.We found more than 100 examples of people trying to buy prescription medicines such as diazepam - commonly used to treat anxiety, muscle spasms and seizures - and instead receiving products containing nitazenes.
The synthetic opioid drugs have been connected to 278 deaths across the country in a year, according to the National Crime Agency (NCA). Nitazenes can be stronger than both heroin and fentanyl, a prolific killer in the US.
Martin Raithelhuber, an illicit synthetic drug expert from the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime.Warning: This article contains descriptions of drugs use
A government spokesperson said it was “securing our borders from the threat” through “world-leading intelligence, dedicated cross-government taskforce and extensive international networks”.
The contaminated substances were identified in anonymous samples submitted to WEDINOS, the only national drug-checking service in the UK.
It said the fake medicines looked like "the same kind of packet you might get from your chemist on the high street" but were "most likely purchased from illicit online pharmacies".
Anne Jacques had never heard of nitazenes when a police officer knocked at her door in the early hours of 17 July 2023 and said her son had been found dead at his student flat.
Alex Harpum, 23, had been preparing for a career as an opera singer and had been accepted for a two-year masters course.
“Watching him sing was one of the biggest joys in my life ever,” Ms Jacques said.It was initially suspected the cause of his death was sudden adult death syndrome, but eight months later Alex's family learned he had taken a substance contaminated with a nitazene.
Phone records suggested he had tried to buy tablets usually sold as Xanax, which are only available with a private prescription in the UK.
Ms Jacques believes Alex was doing so because he often struggled with sleeping while taking medication for his attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.
The traces of nitazenes were only detected after she queried with police why earlier tests had not looked for them.
Ms Jacques said she remained in “disbelief" at the lack of testing, adding: “If I hadn’t pushed for better answers in the middle of massive grief, then to this day I would have no idea how he actually died.
"Unless we’re testing for them, how is anyone going to be aware and informed [of the dangers]?"
A Scotland Yard spokesperson said there had been “delays beyond the control of the Met” relating to the need for, and timing of, specialist testing in this case.
The North London Coroner Service said it remained in contact with the family regarding their concerns.analysed sample results published by WEDINOS, a Public Health Wales service which shares information about the UK's illegal drugs market. It records what the person submitting each sample said they had intended to buy.
In the year to September 2024, there were 130 instances of someone trying to buy medicines illegal to posses without a prescription and instead receiving substances contaminated with nitazenes.
Many were purporting to be benzodiazepines, such as diazepam, and insomnia treatments including temazepam and zolpidem.
Nitazenes were also found in substances masquerading as promethazine, an allergy medication.
Professor Rick Lines, from WEDINOS, said: “Perhaps people have found that they weren't able to continue on a legitimate prescription and decided to go through what they think is an alternative legitimate route, but is in fact not.”
The government plans to make all types of nitazenes Class A drugs. Fifteen synthetic opioids were reclassified in March.
Under the Misuse of Drugs Act, those caught in their supply and production could face up to life in prison while those in possession could face up to seven years.Mr Raithelhuber said there was a "lesson to learn... from North America", where people became addicted to prescription painkillers before the use of fake medicines containing fentanyl became widespread.
“So here in Europe, we are not yet in that situation, but this could be the early signs of traffickers trying to expand," he said.
“I think it's a warning call, maybe for all other countries in Europe… that nitazenes are probably here to stay for the time being, and that their potential negative impact on the health of users is huge.”
He said because both benzodiazepines and nitazenes were depressants, “their combined effect increases the risk of overdose significantly”.
Synthetic opioid effects
Signs that someone may have taken one of these drugs:
Small, narrowed pupils
Reduced or loss of consciousness
Dizziness or drowsiness
Difficulty breathing
Nausea or vomiting
Cold or clammy skin
Blue or grey lips and fingernails
Low blood pressure or decreased heart rate
Anyone who has consumed synthetic opioids and experiences the symptoms described should seek urgent medical treatment.The groups of people most at risk were “those who have always been at the highest risk of all drug-related harm,” said Harry Sumnall, a professor in substance use at Liverpool John Moores University.
He said this included people with drug use problems and those “using drugs to help manage their life circumstances”.
The NCA believes nitazenes are being produced in Chinese labs and brought into the UK through the Royal Mail and other parcel operators.
Dark web marketplaces seen by the BBC suggest some of the same online sellers in China are advertising nitazenes in bulk as well as adulterated benzodiazepines.
The Border Force only examines post for drugs if there is a known risk or intelligence. It says dogs trained to detect nitazenes and other synthetic opioids are “due to enter service shortly”.
Its teams seized new synthetic opioids nine times in the past financial year, according to a response under the Freedom of Information Act.
Those seizures ranged in size from 1g to 1.32kg, which experts said could equate to tens of thousands of doses.The government said it would also test for the presence of the new drugs in wastewater from sewage treatment plants to anticipate the threat of a spike in overdoses.
It has, however, admitted such testing is currently "experimental". The process took around two months at the only laboratory known to have successfully confirmed samples.
Experts previously told the BBC the last government had been too slow to recognise the scale of the problem.
NCA deputy director Charles Yates said it took the threat from nitazenes “seriously” and was taking a “zero-tolerance approach”.
There are an average of 49 drug poisoning deaths weekly involving opiates - such as heroin, oxycodone, fentanyl and including synthetic opioids - across England and Wales, the latest official figures suggest.
Source: Metropolitan Police
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In the fifth century BC the Pythagorean school continued, and Parmenides in Elea contributed to metaphysics. Zeno also of Elea let his mind trap himself into thinking one could never get somewhere, because by going half-way there each time one would get closer but never arrive. Of course if one continually goes halfway, one will never get there; to get there one must go all the way. However, Antisthenes credited Zeno with courageously challenging a tyrant by informing
on the tyrant's friends. When interrogated by the tyrant, the only one he would implicate was the cursed tyrant himself. Zeno accused the bystanders of cowardice for not enduring what he was suffering. Finally he bit off his tongue and spit it at the tyrant before he was beaten to death in a mortar. This affected the citizens so strongly that they later stoned the tyrant to death. Melissus of Samos as a general defeated Athenians led by Pericles in a naval battle in 441 BC; but his transcendental logic brilliantly pointed out that the infinite must be one, because if it were two, the two would limit each other and not be infinite.
Empedocles of Acragas wrote two poems, On Nature and Purifications, about the middle of the fifth century BC. He saw the universe as shifting between Love and Strife and composed of the elements of fire, air, water, and earth. With Love comes concord and joy; Aristotle interpreted Love as the cause of good and Strife as the cause of bad. Aristotle also said that he had been a champion of freedom and was averse to all rules. Others said that Empedocles declined the kingship offered to him, because he preferred to live frugally. When a tyrant insisted that all the guests drink wine or have it poured over their heads, Empedocles the next day accused the host and master of revels which led to their condemnation and execution. This began his political career, and it was argued that he must have been both wealthy and democratic, because he broke up the assembly of a thousand three years after it was set up. Late in his life the descendants of
his enemies opposed his return to Agrigentum; so he went to the Peloponnesus, where he died.
As Pindar, in one of his many poems praising athletes, his second Olympian ode, saw a return to a heavenly kingdom so too did Empedocles describe the soul that realizes its divinity.
Empedocles gained renown for reviving a woman who had been unconscious for thirty days. Empedocles asked humanity, "Won't you stop ill-sounding bloodshed? Don't you see that you are destroying each other in careless folly?"1 He saw foolish fathers sacrificing their sons and
children their parents. He wished he had died before he began eating flesh. Poetically he described how by an oracle of Necessity, anciently decreed by the eternal gods, a demi-god with long life, who has defiled his hands with bloodshed and strife or a false oath, must wander for thousands of seasons far from the blessed, being born through time in many mortal forms in one deadly life after another, pushed on by all the elements. Such a fugitive from the gods who had trusted strife did Empedocles claim himself to be. After many different lives such souls
eventually come to earth as prophets, poets, healers, and princes to share with other immortals. Empedocles wrote that after much wandering he now went among the people as an immortal god honored and revered for his wisdom and healing powers.
Leucippus founded the atom theory of natural philosophy refined by Democritus, who also taught that the cheerful person eager for justice and right actions is strong and free of care, while those who do not care about justice and right find everything joyless and in memory are afraid
and reproach themselves. Happiness, said Democritus, is not found in gold or cattle but in the soul. For Democritus the goal of action is tranquillity, which is not the same as pleasure but a state of well-being in which the soul is calm, strong and undisturbed by fear, superstition, and other feelings.
Protagoras, the greatest of the sophists, studied with Democritus and lived 481-411 BC. He is famous for the statement, "The person is the measure of all things."2 He was the first to charge a fee for his lessons and the first to define the tenses and moods of verbs. He instituted debates and taught the art of arguing, including verbal quibbling. In one of his books he stated that he did not know whether the gods existed or not; for this he was expelled from Athens, and his books were burned in the marketplace.
Source:www.Abika.com
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Socrates was born 469 BC in Athens and was the son of a stone-mason and a midwife. It was said that he did stone-work on the draped figures of the Graces on the Acropolis that was commissioned by Pericles. One account says that Crito took him out of a workshop to educate him because of the beauty of his soul. Socrates admired the theory of Anaxagoras that the mind is infinite, self-ruled, and unmixed with anything but itself, controlling and causing all things.
However, when he studied with Anaxagoras, he found that he introduced many physical causes into his explanations of nature. Such ideas challenged prevailing religious beliefs in Athens, and Anaxagoras was condemned to death; but his friend Pericles got him out of prison. Socrates then became a student of Archelaus, who was said to have begun the speculation on ethical questions of law, justice, and goodness; Socrates improved on this so much that he was considered by Greeks the inventor of ethics. Some said that Socrates helped Euripides write his plays.
Socrates fought as a hoplite at Potidaea in 432 BC and handed over his prize for valor to Alcibiades. He later served again at Amphipolis and at Delium. He invested his money and lived very simply, though he had three children, having taken a second wife to help Athens increase its population. He never asked a fee from anyone, and when observing the products in the marketplace he would observe that he had no need for so many things. He said that most people live to eat but that he ate to live. Charmides offered to give him some slaves for income, but he declined the offer. He refused to accept gifts from tyrants in Macedon, Cranon, and Larissa, and did not visit their courts. He had a supernatural sign which would warn him what not to do. His questioning often perturbed people so much that they would attack him with their fists; but he would refuse to fight or bring legal charges, saying it takes two to make a quarrel or that he would not sue a donkey for kicking him either. His wife Xanthippe was known for being a shrew; but he argued that just as by mastering spirited horses a trainer could handle others easily, so he could learn how to adapt to anyone.
Socrates was satirized by Aristophanes in the comedy The Clouds in 423 BC; but he did not object, because if his faults were shown it would do him good, and if not it would not affect him. However, two dozen years later at his trial he was still being accused of making the worse argument appear better and investigating things under the earth, partly because of that play.
When eight Athenian generals were illegally tried by the assembly for not picking up the lost sailors at Arginusae, Socrates refused to preside over the illegality. When the vicious oligarchy
of Thirty ordered him to arrest the wealthy Leon of Salamis, Socrates did not obey even though he might have died for it. This oppressive government also forbade teaching the art of words because of him.
Finally in 399 BC the resentful Anytus, Lycon, and Meletus charged Socrates with corrupting the youth and with refusing to recognize the gods of the state while introducing new divinities.
Lysias wrote a speech of defense for him, but Socrates rejected it as unsuited to him, just as fine clothes would be. The vote to condemn him was 281-220. Then as a penalty he offered to pay a small fine, though he believed that the state should provide free meals for him. This alienated even more jurors, and he was condemned to death by a majority of eighty more votes. Believing in the laws of the state, he refused to escape from prison. After his execution by hemlock poison, it was said that Athens felt such regret that they put Meletus to death and banished the other two
accusers. Socrates was said to be the first philosopher (in Greece) to discourse on the conduct of life and was the first to be executed.
Source:Abika.com
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Although Socrates himself left behind no writings for us, his disciples Aeschines, Antisthenes, Aristippus, Cebes, Crito, Euclides, Phaedo, Simmias, Xenophon, and Plato wrote Socratic dialogues portraying his teaching in literary form. Of these only the extensive works of
Xenophon and Plato remain intact. The relationship between these writings and the real Socrates is controversial; but in this work that examines the ethics implied in literature as well as history and biography, we can simply look at how Socrates is portrayed in these various dialogs, and then readers can draw their own conclusions. Both Xenophon and Plato were born in Athens about 428 BC and thus had the opportunity to observe Socrates in his later years. It seems to me that they each brought out different aspects of a very complex man.
When Socrates was tried and executed, Xenophon was on the Persian military expedition made famous in his Anabasis. When he did write about his teacher a few years later, his main motive appears to have been to defend Socrates from the charges that led to his execution. His short work called the Defense of Socrates gives Socrates' view of his trial as reported by Hermogenes. Socrates believed that his whole life had been a preparation for his defense, because he had consistently done no wrong, and his "little divinity" (daimonion) warned him twice not to
consider preparing it. Socrates also felt that dying then would prevent him from suffering the decline of old age. In answering the charge of introducing new deities, he said his daimonion was like the divine signs other prophets and priestesses experience. This spirit also helped him to advise friends and was never found wrong. This statement caused an uproar at the trial, as many did not believe him, while others resented the implication that he was closer to the gods.
Socrates told how Chaerephon asked the Delphic oracle about him, and Apollo declared that he was the most free, upright, and prudent of all. Socrates then asked the jury if they knew anyone who was less a slave of his desires or more free, since he did not accept payment from anyone. Socrates asked if any youth had developed bad habits because of him, and Meletus charged that he had persuaded the young to listen to him instead of their parents, which Socrates admitted in regard to questions of education that he had studied. Socrates was not upset by the result of the trial and compared himself to Palamedes, who had been unjustly accused by Odysseus. WhenApollodorus found it difficult to bear seeing Socrates being put to death so unjustly, Socrates asked if he would prefer to see him executed justly.
Xenophon continued to defend Socrates in the first part of his Memoirs of Socrates. Apparently Polycrates had published a pamphlet condemning Socrates, and Xenophon wanted to answer these accusations too. Xenophon's Socrates said that the gods gave us intelligence to use when we could, but that what was concealed from humans could be discovered from the gods by divination. Xenophon found Socrates doing the opposite of corrupting youth by his example and his teaching, inspiring them to desire goodness. He disapproved of over-eating but approved of doing enough exercise to work off the food the mind accepts with pleasure. He did not seek money-lovers but charged no fee, and he rid his listeners of all desires except to be in his company.
Xenophon answered the charge that Critias and Alcibiades, who had been in the circle of Socrates, did great harm to Athens by saying that they were the most ambitious of men and were determined to have as much control over the state as they could; but while they were with Socrates, they were self-disciplined. Critias had been banished to Thessaly, where he practiced law-breaking, and Alcibiades was courted by powerful women and men because of his good looks and prestige. Socrates should not be blamed for their actions any more than a father should for what his son does. Socrates had criticized Critias for seducing Euthydemus, which caused Critias to hate him and with Charicles later to outlaw teaching the art of debate. Socrates also criticized the Thirty for making the people worse the way a herder did by reducing his herd.
Xenophon wrote they stopped associating with Socrates because he annoyed them by exposing their mistakes. Socrates believed that it was an error to imprison the ignorant when they could be taught, though the insane may need to be confined.
Then Xenophon proceeded to show how Socrates by practical example and by his conversations benefited his associates. Socrates only prayed for what is good, assuming that the gods knew that better than he. He thought praying for gold or power or anything else specific was like throwing dice or a battle, because they are unpredictable. He believed his small offerings to the gods would be as well received, for surely the gods would not prefer the large offerings of the wicked. Socrates did not eat or drink beyond satisfaction and advised others to avoid anything that impelled them to eat or drink when they were not hungry or thirsty.
Socrates explained to little Aristodemus how well the universe was designed by God and encouraged him to recognize that just as his mind controls his body according to its will, so too does the intelligence in the universe operate. The omniscience of God is infinitely beyond the limited sensory powers and mental faculties of humans. Thus he made his associates refrain from wrong actions, not only in public but also when they were alone, because they would all be known to the gods. Socrates encouraged self-discipline as making one more trustworthy than the moral weakling, for the slave of appetites cannot escape degradation of both body and mind.
Socrates refuted the luxury and extravagance of the sophist Antiphon by arguing that those who need as little as possible are closer to the divine and thus what is best. To the criticism that Socrates' advice must have no value because he charged nothing for it, Socrates answered that as selling the favors of love for money is prostitution, so those who sell their wisdom are calledsophists. When asked by Antiphon why he did not participate in politics, Socrates asked if he could not be more effective by making as many people as possible more capable in politics. Socrates pointed out that having a reputation for something without having the actual ability can turn out to be disastrous, and thus he discouraged his associates from having pretensions.
Socrates practiced and taught self-control of one's appetites and argued to the pleasure-loving Aristippus that the prudent are more fit to govern. Those who devote themselves to managing their estates efficiently, benefiting their friends, and serving their country will surely find more happiness than in momentary pleasures. Socrates recounts Prodicus' parable of Heracles and the two women who came to him as Vice and Virtue. Vice offers easy pleasures, but Virtue explains that worshipping the gods brings their grace, being kind to friends brings their love, helping the state brings its honors, benefiting Greece brings its recognition, working the land brings
abundant crops, and training one's body makes it physically efficient.
When his son Lamprocles got angry because of his mother's temper, Socrates taught him to be grateful for all the gifts a mother has given to her child. Also by being good to his neighbors and fellow travelers, they will be good to him. He encouraged Chaerecrates to take the lead in resolving his quarrels with his older brother Chaerephon; for if he has a noble and generous nature, he will respond. Socrates has observed that low types are usually won over by a gift, but the best way to influence good people is by courtesy. If his brother does not respond, Chaerecrates has shown that he is a good and affectionate brother.
To Critobulus Socrates praised friendship, and he felt that a friend was more valuable than any other possession; yet friends are often neglected compared to one's material possessions. Those who cannot control their desires are not usually reliable friends, and those who spend all their time making money have no time for friendship. Trouble-makers should also be avoided. Also one who accepts kindness but never thinks of repaying it does not make a good friend either.
Those who have treated their friends well in the past are likely to do so in the future. Then Socrates showed that if we want to have a good friend, the best thing to do is to be a good friend in words and action. Even states that value honorable dealing are often hostile to other states.
Socrates noted that tendencies toward friendship must compete with hostile tendencies toward fighting, rivalry, ambition, and envy. Friendship can unite the fine and good though by moderating possessions, ambitions, and desires in sharing and by controlling passions. Having good friends can be beneficial in public life. The best way to be thought good at anything is to become good at it.
After the Peloponnesian War when Athenians were suffering poverty and a civil war, the aristocratic family of Aristarchus was starving in Piraeus until Socrates advised him to invest in wool and get the women and men of his house working, which would make them friendlier and pleased with themselves. Another older man named Eutherus, who lost his property in the war and was working as a manual laborer, he advised to go into managing property as more suitable to his age and experience. Crito, who was continually settling out of court to prevent lawsuits, he advised to get a friend to defend his cases by prosecuting these exploiters. They found that cultivating the friendship of honest people by returning kindness, which made bad people their enemies worked better than making good people enemies by wronging them in collaboration with bad people.Xenophon gives several conversations in which Socrates gave military advice. Since Xenophon was a general and Socrates was not, it is likely these reflect more the ideas of Xenophon than of Socrates. Xenophon points out the similarities of estate management and business administration to military administration as well as many of the complexities of command. Socrates asked the ambitious Glaucon how he was going to benefit their country, but his questions revealed that the young man did not know about their country's revenues nor its expenditures nor its armed forces nor how much grain it needed. If he can't even persuade his uncle how to manage his household, how would he ever convince the whole city of Athens? However, Socrates encouraged Charmides to go into public affairs, because he thought he was too modest.
Socrates avoided the verbal traps of Aristippus by saying what things were good for specifically; then he generalized that everything is good for the purpose for which it is well adapted. Socrates believed that courage varied considerably but that everyone could develop their fortitude by instruction and application. Those who put into practice what is fine and good and guard against what is shameful are wise. The opposite of wisdom is madness, which results from thinking one understands when one is ignorant. By explaining the methods she used and how he could make her better, Socrates got the courtesan Theodote eager to visit him. Socrates also recommended physical training to Epigenes for the health of the body.
To young Euthydemus Socrates showed the value of self-knowledge and the misfortunes of self- deception. Those who know themselves know what they can do and are successful while they refrain from doing what they don't understand and so avoid mistakes. They also know how to assess others and can benefit from them, while those who don't know themselves don't know what they want from others. Those who know themselves and are successful are sought out by others, but those who fail through lack of knowledge suffer losses and damage their reputations. States that go to war against stronger states through not knowing their own abilities either lose territory or become enslaved. Finally Euthydemus realizes that he is ignorant and had better keep quiet. Many people in this plight left Socrates in dejection and did not come back, but Euthydemus decided that by associating with Socrates he could improve himself.
Socrates began by teaching his associates responsibility, because to develop their abilities without that would make them more capable of doing wrong. To Hippias Socrates argued that doing what is lawful is right and that there are unwritten laws of the gods such as honoring parents and repaying benefits. In valuing freedom he taught that those who are governed by the body's pleasures cannot act best or be free. Self-indulgence prevents people doing what is best and wise. By giving in to every immediate pleasure one does not even experience the maximum pleasure that comes from holding out until one is hungry, thirsty, or tired and ready for sleep.
Only the self-disciplined can make the wisest choices and be most happy.
Socrates also made his associates better through philosophical discussions that helped them to understand things better, while those who do not understand make mistakes. The courageous, for example, understand perils and dangers and yet are brave. Socrates contrasted the sovereign authority that acted with the consent of the people from the despotism that acted without their consent. A good diplomat makes friends instead of enemies, and success in politics stops civil strife and creates a spirit of unity. Socrates concluded that the best life comes from taking the best care to make oneself as good as possible, and the happiest people are those who are most
conscious they are getting better. Socrates believed that his associates loved him, because they believed that by associating with him they would improve themselves and that he offered them the greatest help in cultivating virtue.
In Xenophon's Symposium the wealthy Callias invites Socrates and his friends to a dinner party celebrating young Autolycus' victory in the Pancration. When Callias offers the guests perfumes, Socrates suggests that it's better if they smell of goodness. When asked where they could find that perfume, Socrates quotes the poet Theognis that good company is edifying but bad company the opposite. After a display of dancing, Socrates says he prefers this form of exercise because it can develop the arms as well as the legs. Socrates also urges the host to be sparing with the wine so that their mood will remain more playful and gentle instead of being forced into intoxication.
Socrates then suggests they spend their time improving and amusing themselves by saying what each thinks is his most valuable area of expertise. Like the sophists Callias claims that he makes people better, but instead of by taking their money, by giving them money. Niceratus thinks his knowledge of Homer is helpful. The ascetic Antisthenes, who has no money, says that it is his wealth, because the thrifty are more moral than the extravagant and because he has much free time to spend with Socrates; while Charmides, who was wealthy before the war made his assets unavailable, is proud of his poverty, because now no one bothers him and the state supports him. Socrates claims his skill as a pimp, and the jokester Philippus his humor. Lycon is most proud of his son Autolycus, and Autolycus in turn honors his father. Hermogenes delights in the goodness of his friends. Critobulus is proud of his good looks; although Socrates argues that his bulging eyes and snub nose are better for seeing and smelling and his thick lips better for kissing, Critobulus wins the beauty contest between them. The Syracusan is proud of his boy; but he is afraid other men will want to sleep with him although he sleeps with him every night. Socrates then uses a series of questions to show that his pimping makes his protégés as pleasing as possible to his clients.
Having seen The Clouds, the Syracusan asks Socrates if he is called the "thinker." Socrates replies that it is better than being called thoughtless. He then asks Socrates if he knows about celestial things, and Socrates interprets this as knowing about the gods. The Syracusan wants to put on an erotic display, but Socrates takes up the subject of erotic love and shows that the celestial side of Aphrodite is better than the common. Its pleasure is greater because the mind is better than the body; mental affection lasts longer than physical and is less bound by satiety.
Being loved for one's character is never negative, but shameless physical intercourse has led to many atrocious crimes. The favorite who relies on physical beauty is not likely to improve other qualities, but the one who knows that one must be truly good to retain friendship will care more for virtue not only in the beloved but in oneself as well. At the end of this discussion as Lycon is leaving with his son, he calls Socrates a truly good man; after the erotic display all the guests immediately go home to their wives or lovers.
Xenophon's Oikonomikos is on estate management. Socrates tells Critobulus how people are slaves when they allow such harsh masters to control them as gluttony, sex, drink, and costly ambitions. Socrates believes that his assets are better than those of Critobulus, although his own property would sell for five minae and Critobulus' for more than a hundred times that, because Socrates is able to live within his income, but Critobulus is not. Critobulus asks for Socrates'advice in estate management. Socrates points out that everything needs to be arranged in its proper place, not at random. One's wife can be a good partner in the house, because although income usually results from the husband's activities, most of the expenditures come from the wife's housekeeping; so both need to be done well. Socrates praises agriculture and indicates how much everyone depends on it, not just to live but to live pleasantly.
Socrates then tells Critobulus about a long conversation he had with Ischomachus, who was known for being fine and good by everyone. First Ischomachus tells Socrates how he trained his wife, who came to him at age fifteen, by first praying to the gods for what is best and then training her. The traditional relationship of the woman handling things inside the house while the man did the outdoor work is discussed. Ischomachus expresses the hope that his wife will turn out better than himself and make him her servant because she is so valuable and efficient.
Xenophon then compares estate management to military administration. Greek dependence on slave labor is assumed and in no way challenged. The female servants are to be locked away from the male servants so that their procreation can be regulated by the master, and it is also implied that the wife must compete with these women who are also used as concubines by her husband.
In addition to the wife being taught how to use rewards and punishments to train the workers, a housekeeper is instilled with justice so that she also can reward right and not wrong.
Ischomachus encouraged his wife to exercise in her work to benefit her health and beauty, but he discouraged her from using artificial cosmetics such as lead powder, although it was not known to be poisonous then. Ischomachus also taught his foreman responsibility so that he could supervise everything as well as the master. Rewards include verbal praise, and it is noted that human beings can be made to obey by proving to them by argument that it is in their interest. In the last part of the dialog Ischomachus shows Socrates how much he really already knows about the details of plowing, sowing, planting, and harvesting by artful Socratic questioning, indicating that this theory and method of educating is probably more Socratic than Platonic in origin.
Source:Abika.com
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Smartwatches gather vast amounts of data about our physiology. Now their technology is being harnessed like never before.
As the chief anaesthesiologist at CHUV University Hospital, Patrick Schoettker is all too aware of the complications which can follow a lengthy operation under general anaesthetic.
Rapid blood loss from the surgical site can send the patient into shock, triggering sudden and dangerous dips in blood flow through the body. But patients can also develop severe lung problems after many hours of deep sedation, a complication which accounts for a quarter of all deaths within the first six days of surgery.
Such tragedies sometimes occur due to underlying frailties in the patient's physiology which had gone undetected. But what if hospitals had a quick, low-cost way of screening for them ahead of major procedures?
Schoettker and his colleagues are conducting a trial which involves fitting patients with a smartwatch known as the Masimo W1 several weeks ahead of their pre-operation consultation. The data it has collected is then used to form an assessment of their state of health.
The W1 provides continuous readings of heart rate, respiration rate, blood oxygen, pulse rate and even hydration levels, all to medical-grade accuracy. Schoettker describes the layers of information as being akin to a "digital twin", and believes it could help save lives.
"We plan to use this pre-operatively acquired data to predict possible pre or postoperative complications and act on them in a preventative way," says Schoettker.
This is just one example of how the booming smartwatch market – some analysts have predicted that more than 400 million devices will be sold worldwide by 2027 – is opening up a bold new era of preventative health. Masimo, Apple, Samsung, Withings, FitBit and Polar have all developed watches capable of recording an extraordinary amount of data, allowing measurements such as sleep quality, blood pressure, heart rhythm variation and blood oxygen saturation levels – a marker of how well the heart and lungs are functioning – to be tracked in real-time.Gosia Wamil, a consultant cardiologist at Mayo Clinic Healthcare in London, says that this information is already helping to alert doctors to potential health problems, enabling them to act sooner.
"More and more patients are willing to use their smartwatches to acquire some data, and then bring the printouts and results to us," says Wamil. "And then we can investigate further and confirm those abnormalities."
So far, some of the biggest applications have been related to heart health. In April this year, one study found that smartwatch-acquired electrocardiogram (ECG) measurements – readings of the heart's electrical activity – could reliably identify extra heart beats in otherwise healthy 50 to 70 year olds. This can be a warning sign of a much more serious condition, atrial fibrillation, where the heart starts beating irregularly or accelerating out of control without warning.has found that AI algorithms can use Apple Watch ECG readings to identify people with a low ejection fraction – the amount of blood that your heart pumps each time it beats, which can be a key warning sign of heart failure – with 88% accuracy. Wamil says that this combination of machine learning platforms and smartwatch-derived data is likely to prove revolutionary for patients with all kinds of heart conditions.
"In cardiology clinics, we see patients who complain of palpitations, and we used to have those tapes which we could stick on their chest and record their ECG over 24 hours," says Wamil. "Very frequently, patients may not have symptoms during those 24 hours. But with smartwatches, whenever the patient experiences symptoms, they can press a button on their watch, acquire an ECG and show that to us."
Wamil says this is already leading to preventative treatment, enabling cardiologists to prescribe blood thinner tablets to patients with signs of an irregular heartbeat, to help prevent strokes. She is also interested in whether this data can be used to prevent some of the cardiovascular complications experienced by many type 2 diabetes patients."The reason why people with diabetes have shorter lives is because they are much more at risk of developing heart problems," says Wamil. "We hope that in the future, this data could be used to detect early signs to alert the patient and doctor about their future risk of heart attacks and strokes."
Predicting neurological problems
But many of the applications of smartwatches could extend far beyond the heart. In July 2023, researchers at Cardiff University published a study using data from more than 100,000 people, who were given a smartwatch to wear for a week. The results showed that it was possible to identify individuals with signs of Parkinson's disease up to seven years before their clinical diagnosis. This was done by detecting subtle abnormalities in their walking patterns, as measured by the watch's motion sensors.
Cynthia Sandor, who led the study, believes it could be possible to pinpoint these signs even sooner through combining motion data with other smartwatch measurements such as sleep quality, which is known to be disturbed in people who develop the disease.
"In Parkinson's, diagnosis is preceded by a long phase where signs such as subtle motor changes become apparent," says Sandor. "We found that the most predictive feature was a slowing of movement during light physical activity, too subtle to be noticed by individuals themselves."
Sandor believes this information could soon be used to recruit individuals to clinical trials. One of the theories for why effective treatments for Parkinson's have proven so elusive is because patients are diagnosed at a stage where significant brain damage has already occurred, and it may be easier to slow or even reverse the disease at an earlier stage. "We hope that early screening tools based on smartwatch data can identify people early, potentially enabling neuroprotective treatment trials to be successful," she says.
It is also hoped that smartwatches could one day soon help people living with chronic conditions such as epilepsy, through providing them with early warning signs that a seizure is about to occur. Falls and serious accidents resulting from seizures are known risk factors for those living with epilepsy.
"The uncertainty of when seizures might occur is one of the most difficult aspects of living with epilepsy," says Aileen McGonigal of the Queensland Brain Institute. "Seizure forecasting is however still at an early stage."
McGonigal is interested in whether a special prototype version of the Empatica smartwatch designed for research can aid with seizure prediction. In an ongoing research project, she is applying AI algorithms to a combination of data streams. These include heart rate variability, skin temperature, body movement patterns and changes in the electrical conductance of the skin due to sweating, which reflects alterations in the body's autonomic nervous system. Each of these parameters can be measured by the watch.
"We aim to analyse patterns in the hours leading up to seizures," says McGonigal. "Ideally epilepsy researchers and clinicians would like for patients to be able to forecast when seizures are more likely to occur, which might allow tailoring of treatment, including variable doses of medication and adaption of daily activities to reduce risk of seizure-related falls and injury," she says.
But while there is considerable excitement about what the combination of powerful AI algorithms and increasingly accurate wearable measurements might be able to achieve, some doctors are also cautious about the potential for false positives. There are concerns that the overuse of smartwatches could lead to an increase in patient anxiety, as well as testing the resources of already overstretched health systems."Technology is helping medicine in many different ways," says Jeremy Smelt, a consultant thoracic surgeon at St George's Hospital NHS Foundation Trust. "One of them is the early detection of problems, but it can also save lives. As with all technologies, smartwatches have to be tried and tested. False positives will cause anxiety and may end up in people going to the GP when they don't need to. But they are also very interesting for those with health conditions and could save health services money through picking things up early," he says.
But as smartwatches become even more sophisticated, and manufacturers figure out more and more ways to obtain quantifiable data about the human body, the list of potential preventative health applications is only going to increase.
Masimo CEO Joe Kiani is already focusing on the next frontier for his company's smartwatches: being able to predict an asthma attack.
"We have a measurement for respiratory effort," says Kiani. "We can tell when you're struggling to breathe because respiration rate increases, pulse rate increases… all trying to make up for the lack of oxygen that you're getting," he says. "What's crazy is that for the past 50 to 60 years, all we've had at home is a thermometer to help you decide what to do [when you're sick]. Now we're going to have this rich set of information which can help people to stay out of the emergency department and still get the right care."
source BBC
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After a long wait, Apple has finally released its artificial intelligence (AI) tools for iPhone - to a select few.
Apple Intelligence, a suite of AI tools announced in June, became available to owners of some iPhones around the world on Monday.
The new features include notification summaries, tools to assist users in writing messages, and a glowing new interface for virtual assistant Siri.
But they will only be available to people with the latest devices - including all iPhone 16 models, and the iPhone 15 Pro and Pro Max.
Apple Intelligence is also available on Mac computers and iPad tablets that are powered by its latest chips.
But some of the tools made available on Monday have arrived later than equivalent features on other popular devices.
Apple chief executive Tim Cook said the public release of its AI tools introduced “a new era" for its products.
It comes after the company said on Friday it would reward ethical hackers who could demonstrate vulnerabilities in its AI software with a bounty of up to $1m (£770,000).The bundle of features released on Monday in its iOS 18.1 update are the first wave of AI tools previously shown off at Apple's summer developer conference.
More features expected later this year include generating images and emoji from text prompts.
Rival features
Google and Samsung have already introduced AI features to their devices.
These include allowing users to translate conversations in real-time, automatically organise notes, and search for something online by drawing a circle around it.
While initially making its Galaxy AI features available on its latest handsets, Samsung widened it to include S22 devices released in 2022.
The South Korean tech giant said in February it planned to introduce Galaxy AI for more than 100 million users within 2024.
Apple's new Clean Up tool, allowing people to remove unwanted objects or people from an image, also follows Google's previous release of a similar tool called Magic Eraser.
Mr Cook told the Wall Street Journal in October that the company was "perfectly fine with not being first”, adding it "takes a while to get it really great".
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Contemporary paintings celebrate the brave women who fought fiercely alongside the men in the Haitian revolution of the 18th Century. How did they contribute, and why have their stories been buried for so long?
On the night of 23 August 1791 in Cap-Français, on the north coast of Saint Domingue (present-day Haiti), fires raged on the plantations. The enslaved set fire to the buildings and fields, and killed their masters. It was the start of the Haitian Revolution, the only known uprising of enslaved people in history that led to the founding of a state that was free from slavery.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic in France, news was fast spreading about the uprisings. The wealthy ruling elite and those with a monopoly in the transatlantic slave trade were growing anxious. They began to realise that their days of subjugating the enslaved population for profit were coming to an end. The coordinated attacks was the beginning of an armed resistance that sprung up across the country in the following years.
The enslaved rebellions ultimately led to the previously unthinkable; the dismantling of the colonial system and the declaration of Haiti's independence in 1804. It was "the first successful large-scale revolt by enslaved people in history", and the country became the first free black republic in the world, and the first independent Caribbean state.
History mostly remembers the exploits of male freedom fighters of the Haitian Revolution. Figures such as its leader, General Toussaint Louverture; Jean-Jacques Dessalines, who became the first ruler of an independent Haiti; Dutty Boukman who was leader of the Maroons and a vodou priest, or houngan; the first and only King of Haiti Henri Christophe, and others. Their stories have been chronicled and commemorated through time.Yet there were also women who had key roles in the fight for Haiti's independence. Much of their history is unknown in the mainstream, or underrepresented and overlooked due to the lack of documentation and records of their activities. However the stories we do know of women including Sanité Bélair, Cécile Fatiman, Marie-Jeanne Lamartiniére, Catherine Flon, Suzanne Simone Baptiste Louverture and more, detail their determination, bravery and dedication to the cause against all odds.
There's also a lack of visual evidence of these women. However, contemporary artists Richard Barbot and François Cauvin – both Haitian – have reimagined them, providing faces to the names. Cauvin's painting of Lamartiniére will be part of The Fitzwilliam Museum exhibition Resistance, Revolution and Reform: Cambridge and the Caribbean in the Age of Abolition in 2025.
Dr Crystal Nicole Eddins, associate professor of sociology at the University of Pittsburgh and author of Rituals, Runaways, and the Haitian Revolution: Collective Action in the African Diaspora, tells the BBC that women employed various tactics of resistance, from overt action, to working quietly behind the scenes. Some, including Bélair and Lamartiniére, were fighting on the frontlines. "We know that women were taking up arms alongside men. Women from African societies held a wide range of social roles, some of which were militaristic, in addition to the fact that women were also labouring on plantations, doing the same work as men. So it follows that they were fighting the same fight."
In some cases, historians have said that it was the women who were the most fierce in their fight – Dr Crystal Nicole Eddins
There were healers and nurses like Catherine Flon – who is mostly known for being a seamstress, and is said to have sewn the newly independent Haiti's first flag – as well as educators, spies and saboteurs who used guerilla tactics to sabotage resources, including water supplies, of their enemies. Eddins explains that women also contributed to more gendered roles such as growing and providing food for the rebel armies and their communities.Sanité Bélair was a Haitian revolutionary leader who served in Toussaint Louverture's army. She rose through the ranks, first as a sergeant then a lieutenant, leading the charge in the Saint-Domingue expedition. Alongside her husband Charles Bélair, another lieutenant in the army, they were eventually captured and executed on orders from Napoleon. Bélair's legacy is commemorated with her portrait on the Haitian 10 gourdes banknote, created in 2004 as part of a series celebrating the 200th anniversary of Haiti's independence.Less well known were the vodou priestesses (mambos) and spiritually powerful women like Cécile Fatiman, who provided "protection spells" to the rebels, and refused to give up information about their location. They also used their traditional knowledge of herbal medicine to poison slave owners.
Born to an enslaved African woman and a Corsican prince, Fatiman was a prominent mambo and revolutionary who is also said to have created networks of communication transporting information across the plantations. She lived to a remarkable 112 years old.
Marie-Jeanne Lamartiniére was a Haitian soldier and nurse who is celebrated not only for her courage but also for her knowledge and strategy on the battlefield. Wearing male uniform and fighting alongside the men, she was highly respected. Lamartiniére was a key figure in the major Battle of Crête-á-Pierrot in 1802 against French forces. Women were not exempt from the punishments meted out for participating in the revolution, and they suffered the same brutal fates as men. Bélair was famously known to have refused the blindfold before being executed alongside her husband by the French. "She's described by earlier historians' accounts and in CLR James's book The Black Jacobins, as having been a really brave woman who promoted the fight for independence," says Eddins.
With the few details we know of Bélair and other women, chroniclers have written about their bravery and determination for the liberation cause. "In some cases, historians have said that it was the women who were the most fierce in their fight." They subverted colonial oppressions, and, in the face of adversity, fought for agency within their communities and society at large.
Resisting slavery
The colonists created divisions between the enslaved – sowing discord with invented hierarchical systems involving religion and skin tone. By using the divide-and-conquer tactic, colonists hoped that they would be too busy fighting among themselves to break the chains of slavery. In addition, they threatened extreme violence as punishment for insurrection. However, it did not deter the enslaved people's desire for liberation. They organised revolts without the knowledge of their masters, who were oblivious due to their perceived sense of safety, and their mistaken belief that black people were inferior and incapable of fighting for themselves.During the period of slavery, vodou created the environment for people to meet, and share cultural ideals and political alliances
This belief especially persisted in the way black women were viewed. Many took leadership positions in the organised rebellions, though we don't know much about their stories. Eddins says that newer literature is investigating why these women were silenced in records. Their enslaved status is part of it, according to Eddins, and also according to NYU professor of history Jennifer L Morgan who has also researched this. Eddins says: "[Professor Morgan] talks about how slave status was conferred through the womb of African women, that enslavers didn't want to see them as human, because if they saw a pregnant woman, that would remind them that African people had kin and had family." Also, enslavers were unlikely to view black women as being revolutionary or having rebellious inclinations.
Another reason for their lack of visibility in the history books is the fact that there aren't enough first-person narratives of these women. Eddins says: "We have letters from Toussaint Louverture. We have writings by Jean-Jacques Dessalines, but we don't have, at least to my knowledge, any known writings from a woman revolutionary. So in the absence of that, it takes creativity to try to figure out how to find these women, and make sense of their stories." With her next project, Eddins hopes to find other women like Fatiman and Bélair, and make Haitian revolutionary women's stories more visible.A vodou ceremony known as the Bois Caiman is said to have sparked the Haitian Revolution. Originally, this indigenous African diasporic religion – later developed in Haiti as a response to slavery – was a worship of the elements: earth, sun, water and air. Vodun worshipers believed that there is a connection between the land of the living and the spirit realm. Death is seen as a transition to the invisible world where their ancestors guide and watch over them on Earth. Over the years, due to misconceptions and characterisations by the West, it has become a stigmatised spiritual practice. During the period of slavery, however, vodou created the environment for people to meet, and share cultural ideals and political alliances. Despite being banned, this did not stop people from worshipping in secret. This act of rebellion provided the foundation for bigger and more open resistance.
Fatiman and Dutty Boukman officiated the secret ceremony which was not only a religious ritual but also a meeting to mobilise the enslaved masses from plantations across the country. They strategised on destroying the "sugar plantation economy and outlined the terms of their liberation". The ceremony and other vodou rituals that involved both men and women were key in bringing racial solidarity between the diverse population in Haiti that included the enslaved, creoles, Africans, free people of colour and Maroons. "These sacred rituals were spaces for enslaved people to come together and practise their religious and sacred practices from whatever fragments of memory that they could put together or reformulate in this new space." Eddins also mentions that the shared experience of being commodified as slaves and racialised as black was also part of the radicalisation process.Independence came at a crippling cost, and the country is still suffering the effects of the revolution. However, it's important to acknowledge that the brave overthrowing of slavery and the creation of an independent Haiti was a joint victory between men and women. And while many sources exist focusing on the male figures of the Haitian Revolution, recent efforts have been made by historians, scholars, activists, writers and others to locate women's stories of the revolution, and bring them to light – not only for their contributions to the cause but also to understand their lived experiences.
