Page 7

Alec smiled, nodded, and disappeared again.
"Follow the right hallway around the corner to the first set of elevators," Gianna
told us as Edward helped me to my feet. "The lobby is two floors down, and exits
to the street. Goodbye, now," she added pleasantly. I wondered if her competence
would be enough to save her.
Alice shot her a dark look.
I was relieved there was another way out; I wasn't sure if I could handle another
tour through the underground.
We left through a tastefully luxurious lobby. I was the only one who glanced
back at the medieval castle that housed the elaborate business facade I couldn't
see the turret from here, for which I was grateful.
The party was still in full swing in the streets. The street lamps were just coming
on as we walked swiftly through the narrow, cobbled lanes. The sky was a dull,
fading gray overhead, but the buildings crowded the streets so closely that it felt
darker.
The party was darker, too. Edward's long, trailing cloak did not stand out in the
way it might have on a normal evening in Volterra. There were others in black
satin cloaks now, and the plastic fangs I'd seen on the child in the square today
seemed to be very popular with the adults.
"Ridiculous," Edward muttered once.
I didn't notice when Alice disappeared from beside me. I looked over to ask her a
question, and she was gone.
"Where's Alice?" I whispered in a panic.
"She went to retrieve your bags from where she stashed them this morning."
I'd forgotten that I had access to a toothbrush. It brightened my outlook
considerably.
"She's stealing a car, too, isn't she?" I guessed.
He grinned. "Not till we're outside."
It seemed like a very long way to the entryway. Edward could see that I was
spent; he wound his arm around my waist and supported most of my weight as
we walked.
I shuddered as he pulled me through the dark stone archway. The huge, ancient
portcullis above was like a cage door, threatening to drop on us, to lock us in.
He led me toward a dark car, waiting in a pool of shadow to the right of the gate
with the engine running. To my surprise, he slid into the backseat with me,
instead of insisting on driving.
Alice was apologetic. "I'm sorry." She gestured vaguely toward the dashboard.
"There wasn't much to choose from."
"It's fine, Alice." He grinned. "They can't all be 911 Turbos."
She sighed. "I may have to acquire one of those legally. It was fabulous."
"I'll get you one for Christmas," Edward promised.
Alice turned to beam at him, which worried me, as she was already speeding
down the dark and curvy hillside at the same time.
"Yellow," she told him.
Edward kept me tight in his arms. Inside the gray cloak, I was warm and
comfortable. More than comfortable.
"You can sleep now, Bella," he murmured. "It's over."
I knew he meant the danger, the nightmare in the ancient city, but I still had to
swallow hard before I could answer.
"I don't want to sleep. I'm not tired." Just the second part was a lie. I wasn't about
to close my eyes. The car was only dimly lit by the dashboard controls, but it was
enough that I could see his face.
He pressed his lips to the hollow under my ear. "Try," he encouraged.
I shook my head.
He sighed. "You're still just as stubborn."
I was stubborn; I fought with my heavy lids, and I won.
The dark road was the hardest part; the bright lights at the airport in Florence
made it easier, as did the chance to brush my teeth and change into clean clothes;
Alice bought Edward new clothes, too, and he left the dark cloak on a pile of
trash in an alley. The plane trip to Rome was so short that there wasn't really a
chance for the fatigue to drag me under. I knew the flight from Rome to Atlanta
would be another matter entirely, so I asked the flight attendant if she could bring
me a Coke.
"Bella," Edward said disapprovingly. He knew my low tolerance for caffeine.
Alice was behind us. I could hear her murmuring to Jasper on the phone.
"I don't want to sleep," I reminded him. I gave him an excuse that was believable
because it was true. "If I close my eyes now, I'll see things I don't want to see. I'll
have nightmares."
He didn't argue with me after that.
It would have been a very good time to talk, to get the answers I needed—needed
but not really wanted; I was already despairing at the thought of what I might
hear. We had an uninterrupted block of tirre ahead of us, and he couldn't escape
me on an airplane—well, not easily, at least. No one would hear us except Alice;
it was late, and most of the passengers were turning off lights and asking for
pillows in muted voices. Talk would help me fight off the exhaustion.
But, perversely, I bit my tongue against the flood of questions. My reasoning was
probably flawed by exhaustion, but I hoped that by postponing the discussion, I
could buy a few more hours with him at some later time—spin this out for
another night, Scheherazade-style.
So I kept drinking soda, and resisting even the urge to blink. Edward seemed
perfectly content to hold me in his arms, his fingers tracing my face again and
again. I touched his face, too. I couldn't stop myself, though I was afraid it would
hurt me later, when I was alone again. He continued to kiss my hair, my forehead,
my wrists… but never my lips, and that was good. After all, how many ways can
one heart be mangled and still be expected to keep beating? I'd lived through a lot
that should have finished me in the last few days, but it didn't make me feel
strong. Instead, I felt horribly fragile, like one word could shatter me.
Edward didn't speak. Maybe he was hoping I would sleep. Maybe he had nothing
to say.
I won the fight against my heavy lids. I was awake when we reached the airport
in Atlanta, and I even watched the sun beginning to rise over Seattle's cloud cover
before Edward slid the window shut. I was proud of myself. I hadn't missed one
minute.
Neither Alice nor Edward was surprised by the reception that waited for us at Sea-
Tac airport, but it caught me off guard. Jasper was the first one I saw—he didn't
seem to see me at all. His eyes were only for Alice. She went quickly to his side;
they didn't embrace like other couples meeting there. They only stared into each
other's faces, yet, somehow, the moment was so private that I still felt the need to
look away.
Carlisle and Esme waited in a quiet corner far from the line for the metal
detectors, in the shadow of a wide pillar. Esme reached for me, hugging me
fiercely, yet awkwardly, because Edward kept his arms around me, too.
"Thank you so much," she said in my ear.
Then she threw her arms around Edward, and she looked like she would be
crying if that were possible.
"You will never put me through :hat again," she nearly growled.
Edward grinned, repentant. "Sorry, Mom."
"Thank you, Bella," Carlisle said. "We owe you."
"Hardly," I mumbled. The sleepless night was suddenly overpowering. My head
felt disconnected from my body.
"She's dead on her feet," Esme scolded Edward. "Let's get her home."
Not sure if home was what I wanted at this point, I stumbled, half-blind, through
the airport, Edward dragging me on one side and Esme on the other. I didn't know
if Alice and Jasper were behind us or not, and I was too exhausted to look.
I think I was mostly asleep, though I was still walking, when we reached their
car. The surprise of seeing Emmett and Rosalie leaning against the black sedan
under the dim lights of the parking garage revived me some. Edward stiffened.
"Don't," Esme whispered. "She feels awful."
"She should," Edward said, making no attempt to keep his voice down.
"It's not her fault," I said, my words garbled with exhaustion.
"Let her make amends," Esme pleaded. "We'll ride with Alice and Jasper."
Edward glowered at the absurdly lovely blond vampire waiting for us.
"Please, Edward," I said. I didn't want to ride with Rosalie any more than he
seemed to, but I'd caused more than enough discord in his family.
He sighed, and towed me toward the car.
Emmett and Rosalie got in the front seat without speaking, while Edward pulled
me in the back again. I knew I wasn't going to be able to fight my eyelids
anymore, and I laid my head against his chest in defeat, letting them close. I felt
the car purr to life.
"Edward," Rosalie began.
"I know." Edward's brusque tone was not generous.
"Bella?" Rosalie asked softly.
My eyelids fluttered open in shock. It was the first time she'd ever spoken directly
to me.
"Yes, Rosalie?" I asked, hesitant.
"I'm so very sorry, Bella. I feel wretched about every part of this, and so grateful
that you were brave enough to go save my brother after what I did. Please say
you'll forgive me."
The words were awkward, stilted because of her embarrassment, but they seemed
sincere.
"Of course, Rosalie," I mumbled, grasping at any chance to make her hate me a
little less. "It's not your fault at all. I'm the one who jumped off the damn cliff. Of
course I forgive you."
The words came out like mush.
"It doesn't count until she's conscious, Rose," Emmett chuckled.
"I'm conscious," I said; it just sounded like a garbled sigh.
"Let her sleep," Edward insisted, but his voice was a little warmer.
It was quiet then, except for the gentle thrum of the engine. I must have fallen
asleep, because it seemed like seconds later when the door opened and Edward
was carrying me from the car. My eyes wouldn't open. At first I thought we were
still at the airport.
And then I heard Charlie.
"Bella!" he shouted from some distance.
"Charlie," I mumbled, trying to shake off the stupor.
"Shh," Edward whispered. "It's okay; you're home and safe. Just sleep."
"I can't believe you have the nerve to show your face here." Charlie bellowed at
Edward, his voice much closer now.
"Stop it, Dad," I groaned. He didn't hear me.
"What's wrong with her?" Charlie demanded.
"She's just very tired, Charlie," Edward assured him quietly. "Please let her rest."
"Don't tell me what to do!" Charlie yelled. "Give her to me. Get your hands off
her!"
Edward tried to pass me to Charlie, but I clung to him with locked, tenacious
fingers. I could feel my dad yanking on my arm.
"Cut it out, Dad," I said with more volume. I managed to drag my lids back to
stare at Charlie with bleary eyes. "Be mad at me."
We were in front of my house. The front door was standing open. The cloud
cover overhead was too thick to guess at a time of day.
"You bet I will be," Charlie promised. "Get inside." i'"Kay. Let me down," I
sighed.
Edward set me on my feet. I could see that I was upright, but I couldn't feel my
legs. I trudged forward anyway, until the sidewalk swirled up toward my face.
Edward's arms caught me before I hit the concrete.
"Just let me get her upstairs," Edward said. "Then I'll leave."
"No," I cried, panicking. I hadn't got my answers yet. He had to stay for at least
that much, didn't he?
"I won't be far," Edward promised, whispering so low in my ear that Charlie
didn't have a hope of hearing.
I didn't hear Charlie answer, but Edward headed into the house. My open eyes
only made it till the stairs. The last thing I felt was Edward's cool hands prying
my fingers loose from his shirt.
23. THE TRUTH
I HAD THE SENSE THAT I'D BEEN ASLEEP FOR A VERY long time—my
body was stiff, like I hadn't moved once through all that time, either. My mind
was dazed and slow; strange, colorful dreams—dreams and nightmares—swirled
dizzily around the inside of my head. They were so vivid. The horrible and the
heavenly, all mixed together into a bizarre jumble. There was sharp impatience
and fear, both part of that frustrating dream where your feet can't move fast
enough… And there were plenty of monsters, red-eyed fiends that were all the
more ghastly for their genteel civility. The dream was still strong—I could even
remember the names. But the strongest, clearest part of the dream was not the
horror. It was the angel that was most clear.
It was hard to let him go and wake up. This dream did not want to be shoved
away into the vault of dreams I refused to revisit. I struggled with it as my mind
became more alert, focusing on reality. I couldn't remember what day of the week
it was, but I was sure Jacob or school or work or something was waiting for me. I
inhaled deeply, wondering how to face another day.
Something cold touched my forehead with the softest pressure.
I squeezed my eyes more tightly shut. I was still dreaming, it seemed, and it felt
abnormally real. I was so close to waking… any second now, and it would be
gone.
But I realized that it felt too real, too real to be good for me. The stone arms I
imagined wrapped around me were far too substantial. If I let this go any further,
I'd be sorry for it later. With a resigned sigh, I wrenched back my eyelids to
dispel the illusion.
"Oh!" I gasped, and threw my fists over my eyes.
Well, clearly, I'd gone too far; it must have been a mistake to let my imagination
get so out of hand. Okay, so "let" was the wrong word. I'd forced it to get out of
hand—pretty much stalked my hallucinations—and now my mind had snapped.
It took less than half a second for me to realize that, as long as I was truly insane
now, I might as well enjoy the delusions while they were pleasant.
I opened my eyes again—and Edward was still there, his perfect face just inches
away from mine.
"Did I frighten you?" His low voice was anxious. This was very good, as
delusions went. The face, the voice, the scent, everything—it was so much better
than drowning. The beautiful figment of my imagination watched my changing
expressions, with alarm. His irises were pitch-black, with bruise-like shadows
under them. This surprised me; my hallucinatory Edwards were usually better fed.
I blinked twice, desperately trying to remember the last thing that I was sure was
real. Alice was part of my dream, and I wondered if she had really come back at
all, or if that was just the preamble. I thought she'd returned the day I'd nearly
drowned…
"Oh, crap" I croaked. My throat was thick with sleeping.
"What's wrong, Bella?"
I frowned at him unhappily. His face was even more anxious than before.
"I'm dead, right?" I moaned. "I did drown. Crap, crap, crap! This is gonna kill
Charlie."
Edward frowned, too. "You're not dead."
"Then why am I not waking up?" I challenged, raising my eyebrows.
"You are awake, Bella."
I shook my head. "Sure, sure. That's what you want me to think. And then it will
be worse when I do wake up. If I wake up, which I won't, because I'm dead. This
is awful. Poor Charlie. And Renee and Jake…" I trailed off in horror at what I
had done.
"I can see where you might confuse me with a nightmare." His short-lived smile
was grim. "But I can't imagine what you could have done to wind up in hell. Did
you commit many murders while I was away?"
I grimaced. "Obviously not. If I was in hell, you wouldn't be with me."
He sighed.
My head was getting clearer. My eyes flickered away from his face—unwillingly
—for one second, to the dark, open window, and then back to him. I started to
remember details… and I felt a faint, unfamiliar blush warm the skin over my
cheekbones as I slowly realized that Edward was really, truly here with me, and I
was wasting time being an idiot.
"Did all of that really happen, then?" It was almost impossible to reassign my
dream as reality. I couldn't wrap my head around the concept.
"That depends." Edward's smile was still hard. "If you're referring to us nearly
being massacred in Italy, then, yes."
"How strange," I mused. "I really went to Italy. Did you know I'd never been
farther east than Albuquerque?"
He rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should go back to sleep. You're not coherent."
"I'm not tired anymore." It was all coming clear now. "What time is it? How long
have I been sleeping?"
"It's just after one in the morning. So, about fourteen hours."
I stretched as he spoke. I was so stiff.
"Charlie?" I asked.
Edward frowned. "Sleeping. You should probably know that I'm breaking the
rules right now. Well, not technically, since he said I was never to walk through
his door again, and I came in the window… But, still, the intent was clear."
"Charlie banned you from the house?" I asked, disbelief quickly melting into fury.
His eyes were sad. "Did you expect anything else?"
My eyes were mad. I was going to have a few words with my father—perhaps it
would be a good time to remind him that I was over the legal age of adulthood. It
didn't matter so much, of course, except in principle. All too soon there would be
no reason for the prohibition. I turned my thoughts to less painful avenues.
"What's the story?" I asked, genuinely curious, but also trying desperately to keep
the conversation casual, to keep a firm grip on myself, so I wouldn't scare him
away with the frantic, gnawing craving that was raging inside me.
"What do you mean?"
"What am I telling Charlie? What's my excuse for disappearing for… how long
was I gone, anyway?" I tried to count the hours in my head.
"Just three days." His eyes tightened, but he smiled more naturally this time.
"Actually, I was hoping you might have a good explanation. I've got nothing."
I groaned. "Fabulous."
"Well, maybe Alice will come up with something," he offered, trying to comfort
me.
And I was comforted. Who cared what I had to deal with later? Every second that
he was here—so close, his flawless face glowing in the dim light from the
numbers on my alarm clock—was precious and not to be wasted.
"So," I began, picking the least important—though still vitally interesting—
question to start with. I was safely delivered home, and he might decide to leave
at any moment. I had to keep him talking. Besides, this temporary heaven wasn't
entirely complete without the sound of his voice. "What have you been doing, up
until three days ago?"
His face turned wary in an instant. "Nothing terribly exciting."
"Of course not," I mumbled.
"Why are you making that face?"
"Well…" I pursed my lips, considering. "If you were, after all, just a dream, that's
exactly the kind of thing you would say. My imagination must be used up."
He sighed. "If I tell you, will you finally believe that you're not having a
nightmare?"
"Nightmare!" I repeated scornfully. He waited for my answer. "Maybe," I said
after a second of thought. "If you tell me."
"I was… hunting."
"Is that the best you can do?" I criticized. "That definitely doesn't prove I'm
awake."
He hesitated, and then spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. "I wasn't
hunting fot food… I was actually trying my hand at… tracking. I'm not very good
at it."
"What were you tracking?" I asked, intrigued.
"Nothing of consequence." His words didn't match his expression; he looked
upset, uncomfortable.
"I don't understand."
He hesitated; his face, shining with an odd green cast from the light of the clock,
was torn.
"I—" He took a deep breath. "I owe you an apology. No, of course I owe you
much, much more than that. But you have to know,"—the words began to flow so
fast, the way I remembered he spoke sometimes when he was agitated, that I
really had to concentrate to catch them all—"that I had no idea. I didn't realize the
mess I was leaving behind. I thought it was safe for you here. So safe. I had no
idea that Victoria,"—his lips curled back when he said the name—"would come
back. I'll admit, when I saw her that one time, I was paying much more attention
to James's thoughts. But I just didn't see that she had this kind of response in her.
That she even had such a tie to him. I think I realize why now—she was so sure
of him, the thought of him failing never occurred to her. It was her
overconfidence that clouded her feelings about him—that kept me from seeing
the depth of them, the bond there.
"Not that there's any excuse for what I left you to face. When I heard what you
told Alice—what she saw herself—when I realized that you had to put your life
in the hands of werewolves, immature, volatile, the worst thing out there besides
Victoria herself—he shuddered and the gush of words halted for a short second.
"Please know that I had no idea of any of this. I feel sick, sick to my core, even
now, when I can see and feel you safe in my arms. I am the most miserable
excuse for—"
"Stop," I interrupted him. He stared at me with agonized eyes, and I tried to find
the right words—the words that would free him from this imagined obligation
that caused him so much pain. They were very hard words to say. I didn't know if
I could get them out without breaking down. But I had to try to do it right. I didn't
want to be a source of guilt and anguish in his life. He should be happy, no matter
what it cost me.
I'd really been hoping to put off this part of our last conversation. It was going to
bring things to an end so much sooner.
Drawing on all my months of practice with trying to be normal for Charlie, I kept
my face smooth.
"Edward," I said. His name burned my throat a little on the way out. I could feel
the ghost of the hole, waiting to rip itself wide again as soon as he disappeared. I
didn't quite see how I was going to survive it this time. "This has to stop now.
You can't think about things that way. You can't let this… this guilt… rule your
life. You can't take responsibility for the things that happen to me here. None of it
is your fault, it's just part of how life is for me. So, if I trip in front of a bus or
whatever it is next time, you have to realize that it's not your job to take the
blame. You can't just go running off to Italy because you feel bad that you didn't
save me. Even if I had jumped off that cliff to die, that would have been my
choice, and not your fault. I know it's your… your nature to shoulder the blame
for everything, but you really can't let that make you go to such extremes! It's
very irresponsible—think of Esme and Carlisle and—"
I was on the edge of losing it. I stopped to take a deep breath, hoping to calm
myself. I had to set him free. I had to make sure this never happened again.
"Isabella Marie Swan," he whispered, the strangest expression crossing his face.
He almost looked mad. "Do you believe that I asked the Volturi to kill me
because I felt guilty?"
I could feel the blank incomprehension on my face. "Didn't you?"
"Feel guilty? Intensely so. More than you can comprehend."
"Then… what are you saying? I don't understand."
"Bella, I went to the Volturi because I thought you were dead," he said, voice
soft, eyes fierce. "Even if I'd had no hand in your death"—he shuddered as he
whispered the last word—"even if it wasn't my fault, I would have gone to Italy.
Obviously, I should have been more careful—I should have spoken to Alice
directly, rather than accepting it secondhand from Rosalie. But, really, what was I
supposed to think when the boy said Charlie was at the funeral? What are the
odds?
"The odds…" he muttered then, distracted. His voice was so low I wasn't sure I
beard it right. "The odds are always stacked against us. Mistake after mistake. I'll
never criticize Romeo again."
"But I still don't understand," I said. "That's my whole point. So what?"
"Excuse me?"
"So what if I was dead?"
He stared at me dubiously for a long moment before answering. "Don't you
remember anything I told you before?"
"I remember everything that you told me." Including the words that had negated
all the rest.
He brushed the tip of his cool finger against my lower lip. "Bella, you seem to be
under a misapprehension." He closed his eyes, shaking his head back and forth
with half a smile on his beautiful face. It wasn't a happy smile. "I thought I'd
explained it clearly before. Bella, I can't live in a world where you don't exist."
"I am…" My head swam as I looked for the appropriate word. "Confused." That
worked. I couldn't make sense of what he was saying.
He stared deep into my eyes with his sincere, earnest gaze. "I'm a good liar,
Bella, I have to be."
I froze, my muscles locking down as if for impact. The fault line in my chest
rippled; the pain of it took my breath away.
He shook my shoulder, trying to loosen my rigid pose. "Let me finish! I'm a good
liar, but still, for you to believe me so quickly." He winced. "That was…
excruciating."
I waited, still frozen.
"When we were in the forest, when I was telling you goodbye—"
I didn't allow myself to remember. I fought to keep myself in the present second
only.
"You weren't going to let go," he whispered. "I could see that. I didn't want to do
it—it felt like it would kill me to do it—but I knew that if I couldn't convince you
that I didn't love you anymore, it would just take you that much longer to get on
with your life. I hoped that, if you thought I'd moved on, so would you."
"A clean break," I whispered through unmoving lips.
"Exactly. But I never imagined it would be so easy to do! I thought it would be
next to impossible—that you would be so sure of the truth that I would have to lie
through my teeth for hours to even plant the seed of doubt in your head. I lied,
and I'm so sorry—sorry because I hurt you, sorry because it was a worthless
effort. Sorry that I couldn't protect you from what I an. I lied to save you, and it
didn't work. I'm sorry.
"But how could you believe me? After all the thousand times I've told you I love
you, how could you let one word break your faith in me?"
I didn't answer. I was too shocked to form a rational response.
"I could see it in your eyes, that you honestly believed that I didn't want you
anymore. The most absurd, ridiculous concept—as if there were anu way that I
could exist without needing you!"
I was still frozen. His words were incomprehensible, because they were
impossible.
He shook my shoulder again, not hard, but enough that my teeth rattled a little.
"Bella," he sighed. "Really, what were you thinking!"
And so I started to cry. The tears welled up and then gushed miserably down my
cheeks.
"I knew it," I sobbed. "I knew I was dreaming."
"You're impossible," he said, and he laughed once—a hard laugh, frustrated.
"How can I put this so that you'll believe me? You're not asleep, and you're not
dead. I'm here, and I love you. I have always loved you, and I will always love
you. I was thinking of you, seeing your face in my mind, every second that I was
away. When I told you that I didn't want you, it was the very blackest kind of
blasphemy."
I shook my head while the tears continued to ooze from the corners of my eyes.
"You don't believe me, do you?" he whispered, his face paler than his usual pale
—I could see that even in the dim light. "Why can you believe the lie, but not the
truth?"
"It never made sense for you to love me," I explained, my voice breaking twice.
"I always knew that."
His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened.
"I'll prove you're awake," he promised.
He caught my face securely between his iron hands, ignoring my struggles when
I tried to turn my head away.
"Please don't," I whispered.
He stopped, his lips just half an inch from mine.
"Why not?" he demanded. His breath blew into my face, making my head whirl.
"When I wake up"—He opened his mouth to protest, so I revised—"okay, forget
that one—when you leave again, it's going to be hard enough without this, too."
He pulled back an inch, to stare at my face.
"Yesterday, when I would touch you, you were so… hesitant, so careful, and yet
still the same. I need to know why. Is it because I'm too late? Because I've hurt
you too much? Because you have moved on, as I meant for you to? That would
be… quite fair. I won't contest your decision. So don't try to spare my feelings,
please—just tell me now whether or not you can still love me, after everything
I've done to you. Can you?" he whispered.
"What kind of an idiotic question is that?"
"Just answer it. Please."
I stared at him darkly for a long moment. "The way I feel about you will never
change. Of course I love you—and there's nothing you can do about it!"
"That's all I needed to hear."
His mouth was on mine then, and I couldn't fight him. Not because he was so
many thousand times stronger than me, but because my will crumbled into dust
the second our lips met. This kiss was not quite as careful as others I
remembered, which suited me just fine. If I was going to rip myself up further, I
might as well get as much in trade as possible.
So I kissed him back, my heart pounding out a jagged, disjointed rhythm while
my breathing turned to panting and my fingers moved greedily to his face. I could
feel his marble body against every line of mine, and I was so glad he hadn't
listened to me—there was no pain in the world that would have justified missing
this. His hands memorized my face, the same way mine were tracing his, and, in
the brief seconds when his lips were free, he whispered my name.
When I was starting to get dizzy, he pulled away, only to lay his ear against my
heart.
I lay there, dazed, waiting for my gasping to slow and quiet.
"By the way," he said in a casual tone. "I'm not leaving you."
I didn't say anything, and he seemed to hear skepticism in my silence.
He lifted his face to lock my gaze in his. "I'm not going anywhere. Not without
you," he added more seriously.
"I only left you in the first place because I wanted you to have a chance at a
normal, happy, human life. I could see what I was doing to you—keeping you
constantly on the edge of danger, taking you away from the world you belonged
in, risking your life every moment I was with you. So I had to try. I had to do
something, and it seemed like leaving was the only way. If I hadn't thought you
would be better off, I could have never made myself leave. I'm much too selfish.
Only you could be more important than what I wanted… what I needed. What I
want and need is to be with you, and I know I'll never be strong enough to leave
again. I have too many excuses to stay—thank heaven for that! It seems you can't
be safe, no matter how many miles I put between us."
"Don't promise me anything," I whispered. If I let myself hope, and it came to
nothing… that would kill me. Where all those merciless vampires had not been
able to finish me off, hope would do the job.
Anger glinted metallic in his black eyes. "You think I'm lying to you now?"
"No—not lying." I shook my head, trying to think it through coherently. To
examine the hypothesis that he did love me, while staying objective, clinical, so I
wouldn't fall into the trap of hoping. "You could mean it… now. But what about
tomorrow, when you think about all the reasons you left in the first place? Or
next month, when Jasper takes a snap at me?"
He flinched.
I thought back over those last days of my life before he left me, tried to see them
through the filter of what he was telling me now. From that perspective,
imagining that he'd left me while loving me, left me for me, his brooding and cold
silences took on a different meaning. "It isn't as if you hadn't thought the first
decision through, is it?" I guessed. "You'll end up doing what you think is right."
"I'm not as strong as you give me credit for," he said. "Right and wrong have
ceased to mean much to me; I was coming back anyway. Before Rosalie told me
the news, I was already past trying to live through one week at a time, or even
one day. I was fighting to make it through a single hour. It was only a matter of
time—and not much of it—before I showed up at your window and begged you
to take me back. I'd be happy to beg now, if you'd like that."
I grimaced. "Be serious, please."
"Oh, I am," he insisted, glaring now. "Will you please try to hear what I'm telling
you? Will you let me attempt to explain what you mean to me?"
He waited, studying my face as he spoke to make sure I was really listening.
"Before you, Bella, my life was like a moonless night. Very dark, but there were
stars—points of light and reason… And then you shot across my sky like a
meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was brilliancy, there was beauty.
When you were gone, when the meteor had fallen over the horizon, everything
went black. Nothing had changed, but my eyes were blinded by the light. I
couldn't see the stars anymore. And there was no more reason for anything."
I wanted to believe him. But this was my life without him that he was describing,
not the other way around.
"Your eyes will adjust," I mumbled.
"That's just the problem—they can't."
"What about your distractions?"
He laughed without a trace of humor. "Just part of the lie, love. There was no
distraction from the… the agony. My heart hasn't beat in almost ninety years, but
this was different. It was like my heart was gone—like I was hollow. Like I'd left
everything that was inside me here with you."
"That's funny," I muttered.
He arched one perfect eyebrow. "Funny? "
"I meant strange—I thought it was just me. Lots of pieces of me went missing,
too. I haven't been able to really breathe in so long." I filled my lungs, luxuriating
in the sensation. "And my heart. That was definitely lost."
He closed his eyes and laid his ear over my heart again. I let my cheek press
against his hair, felt the texture of it on my skin, smelled the delicious scent of
him.
"Tracking wasn't a distraction then?" I asked, curious, and also needing to distract
myself. I was very much in danger of hoping. I wouldn't be able to stop myself for
long. My heart throbbed, singing in my chest.
"No." He sighed. "That was never a distraction. It was an obligation."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that, even though I never expected any danger from Victoria, I wasn't
going to let her get away with… Well, like I said, I was horrible at it. I traced her
as far as Texas, but then I followed a false lead down to Brazil—and really she
came here." He groaned. "I wasn't even on the right continent! And all the while,
worse than my worst fears—"
"You were hunting Victoria?" I half-shrieked as soon as I could find my voice,
shooting through two octaves.
Charlie's distant snores stuttered, and then picked up a regular rhythm again.
"Not well," Edward answered, studying my outraged expression with a confused
look. "But I'll do better this time. She won't be tainting perfectly good air by
breathing in and out for much longer."
"That is… out of the question," I managed to choke out. Insanity. Even if he had
Emmett or Jasper help him. Even if he had Emmett and Jasper help. It was worse
than my other imaginings: Jacob Black standing across a small space from
Victoria's vicious and feline figure. I couldn't bear to picture Edward there, even
though he was so much more durable than my half-human best friend.
"It's too late for her. I might have let the other time slide, but not now, not after—"
I interrupted him again, trying to sound calm. "Didn't you just promise that you
weren't going to leave?" I asked, fighting the words as I said them, nor letting
them plant themselves in my heart. "That isn't exactly compatible with an
extended tracking expedition, is it?"
He frowned. A snarl began to build low in his chest. "I will keep my promise,
Bella. But Victoria"—the snarl became more pronounced—"is going to die.
Soon."
"Let's not be hasty," I said, trying to hide my panic. "Maybe she's not coming
back. Jake's pack probably scared her off. There's really no reason to go looking
for her. Besides, I've got bigger problems than Victoria."
Edward's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "It's true. The werewolves are a
problem."
I snorted. "I wasn't talking about Jacob. My problems are a lot worse that a
handful of adolescent wolves getting themselves into trouble."
Edward looked as if he were about to say something, and then thought better of it.
His teeth clicked together, and he spoke through them. "Really?" he asked. "Then
what would be your greatest problem? That would make Victoria's returning for
you seem like such an inconsequential matter in comparison?"
"How about the second greatest?" I hedged.
"All right," he agreed, suspicious.
I paused. I wasn't sure I could say the name. "There are others who are coming to
look for me," I reminded him in a subdued whisper.
He sighed, but the reaction was not as strong as I would have imagined after his
response to Victoria.
"The Volturi are only the second greatest?"
"You don't seem that upset about it," I noted.
"Well, we have plenty of time to think it through. Time means something very
different to them than it does to you, or even me. They count years the way you
count days. I wouldn't be surprised if you were thirty before you crossed their
minds again," he added lightly.
Horror washed through me.
Thirty.
So his promises meant nothing, in the end. If I were going to turn thirty someday,
then he couldn't be planning on staying long. The harsh pain of this knowledge
made me realize that I'd already begun to hope, without giving myself permission
to do 5.0.
"You don't have to be afraid," he said, anxious as he watched the tears dew up
again on the rims of my eyes. "I won't let them hurt you."
"While you're here." Not that I cared what happened to me when he left.
He took my face between his two stone hands, holding it tightly while his
midnight eyes glared into mine with the gravitational force of a black hole. "I will
never leave you again."
"But you said thirty," I whispered. The tears leaked over the edge. "What? You're
going to stay, but let me get all old anyway? Right."
His eyes softened, while his mouth went hard. "That's exactly what I'm going to
do. What choice have I? I cannot be without you, but I will not destroy your soul."
"Is this really…" I tried to keep my voice even, but this question was too hard. I
remembered his face when Aro had almost begged him to consider making me
immortal. The sick look there. Was this fixation with keeping me human really
about my soul, or was it because he wasn't sure that he wanted me around that
long?
"Yes?" he asked, waiting for my question.
I asked a different one. Almost—but not quite—as hard.
"But what about when I get so old that people think I'm your mother? Your
grandmother?" My voice was pale with revulsion—I could see Gran's face again
in the dream mirror.
His whole face was soft now. He brushed the tears from my cheek with his lips.
"That doesn't mean anything to me," he breathed against my skin. "You will
always be the most beautiful thing in my world. Of course…" He hesitated,
flinching slightly. "If you outgrew me—if you wanted something more—I would
understand that, Bella. I promise I wouldn't stand in your way if you wanted to
leave me."
His eyes were liquid onyx and utterly sincere. He spoke as if he'd put endless
amounts of thought into this asinine plan.
"You do realize that I'll die eventually, right?" I demanded.
He'd thought about this part, too. "I'll follow after as soon as I can."
"That is seriously…"I looked for the right word. "Sick."
"Bella, it's the only right way left—"
"Let's just back up for a minute," I said; feeling angry made it so much easier to
be clear, decisive. "You do remember the Volturi, right? I can't stay human
forever. They'll kill me. Even if they don't think of me till I'm thirty"—I hissed
the word—"do you really think they'll forget?"
"No," he answered slowly, shaking his head. "They won't forget. But…"
"But?"
He grinned while I stared at him warily. Maybe I wasn't the only crazy one.
"I have a few plans."
"And these plans," I said, my voice getting more acidic with each word. "These
plans all center around me staying human."
My attitude hardened his expression. "Naturally." His tone was brusque, his
divine face arrogant.
We glowered at each other for a long minute.
Then I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, I pushed his arms away so that
I could sit up.
"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, and it made my heart flutter to see that this
idea hurt him, though he tried not to show it.
"No," I told him. "I'm leaving."
He watched me suspiciously as I climbed out of the bed and fumbled around in
the dark room, looking for my shoes.
"May I ask where you are going.'" he asked.
"I'm going to your house," I told him, still feeling around blindly.
He got up and came to my side. "Here are your shoes. How did you plan to get
there?"
"My truck."
"That will probably wake Charlie," he offered as a deterrent.
I sighed. "I know. But honestly, I'll be grounded for weeks as it is. How much
more trouble can I really get in?"
"None. He'll blame me, not you."
"If you have a better idea, I'm all ears."
"Stay here," he suggested, but his expression wasn't hopeful.
"No dice. But you go ahead and make yourself at home," I encouraged, surprised
at how natural my teasing sounded, and headed for the door.
He was there before me, blocking my way.
I frowned, and turned for the window. It wasn't really that far to the ground, and
it was mostly grass beneath…
"Okay," he sighed. "I'll give you a ride."
I shrugged. "Either way. But you probably should be there, too."
"And why is that?"
"Because you're extraordinarily opinionated, and I'm sure you'll want a chance to
air your views."
"My views on which subject?" He asked through his teeth.
"This isn't just about you anymore. You're not the center of the universe, you
know." My own personal universe was, of course, a different story. "If you're
going to bring the Volturi down on us over something as stupid as leaving me
human, then your family ought to have a say."
"A say in what?" he asked, each word distinct.
"My mortality. I'm putting it to a vote."
24. VOTE
HE WAS NOT PLEASED, THAT MUCH WAS EASY TO READ in his face.
But, without further argument, he took me in his arms and sprang lithely from my
window, landing without the slightest jolt, like a cat. It was a little bit farther
down than I'd imagined.
"All right then," he said, his voice seething with disapproval. "Up you go."
He helped me onto his back, and took off running. Even after all this time, it felt
routine. Easy. Evidently this was something you never forgot, like riding a
bicycle.
It was so very quiet and dark as he ran through the forest, his breathing slow and
even—dark enough that the trees flying past us were nearly invisible, and only
the rush of air in my face truly gave away our speed. The air was damp; it didn't
burn my eyes the way the wind in the big plaza had, and that was comforting. As
was the night, too, after that terrifying brightness. Like the thick quilt I'd played
under as a child, the dark felt familiar and protecting.
I remembered that running through the forest like this used to frighten me, that I
used to have to close my eyes. It seemed a silly reaction to me now. I kept my
eyes wide, my chin resting on his shoulder, my cheek against his neck. The speed
was exhilarating. A hundred times better than the motorcycle.
I turned my face toward him and pressed my lips into the cold stone skin of his
neck.
"Thank you," he said, as the vague, black shapes of trees raced past us. "Does that
mean you've decided you're awake?"
I laughed. The sound was easy, natural, effortless. It sounded right. "Not really.
More that, either way, I'm not trying to wake up. Not tonight."
"I'll earn your trust back somehow," he murmured, mostly to himself. "If it's my
final act."
"I trust you," I assured him. "It's me I don't trust."
"Explain that, please."
He'd slowed to a walk—I could only tell because the wind ceased—and I guessed
that we weren't far from the house. In fact, I thought I could make out the sound
of the river rushing somewhere close by in the darkness.
"Well—" I struggled to find the right way to phrase it. "I don't trust myself to
be… enough. To deserve you. There's nothing about me that could hold you."
He stopped and reached around to pull me from his back. His gentle hands did
not release me; after he'd set me on my feet again, he wrapped his arms tightly
around me, hugging me to his chest.
"Your hold is permanent and unbreakable," he whispered. "Never doubt that."
But how could I not?
"You never did tell me…" he murmured.
"What?"
"What your greatest problem is."
"I'll give you one guess." I sighed, and reached up to touch the tip of his nose
with my index finger.
He nodded. "I'm worse than the Volturi," he said grimly. "I guess I've earned
that."
I rolled my eyes. "The worst the Volturi can do is kill me."
He waited with tense eyes.
"You can leave me," I explained. "The Volturi, Victoria… they're nothing
compared to that."
Even in the darkness, I could see the anguish twist his face—it reminded me of
his expression under Jane's torturing gaze; I felt sick, and regretted speaking the
truth.
"Don't," I whispered, touching his face. "Don't be sad."
He pulled one corner of his mouth up halfheartedly, but the expression didn't
touch his eyes. "If there was only some way to make you see that I can't leave
you," he whispered. "Time, I suppose, will be the way to convince you."
I liked the idea of time. "Okay," I agreed.
His face was still tormented. I tried to distract him with inconsequentials.
"So—since you're staying. Can I have my stuff back?" I asked, making my tone
as light as I could manage.
My attempt worked, to an extent: he laughed. But his eyes retained the misery.
"Your things were never gone," he told me. "I knew it was wrong, since I
promised you peace without reminders. It was stupid and childish, but I wanted to
leave something of myself with you. The CD, the pictures, the tickets—they're all
under your floorboards."
"Really?"
He nodded, seeming slightly cheered by my obvious pleasure in this trivial fact. It
wasn't enough to heal the pain in his face completely.
"I think," I said slowly, "I'm not sure, but I wonder… I think maybe I knew it the
whole time."
"What did you know?"
I only wanted to take away the agony in his eyes, but as I spoke the words, they
sounded truer than I expected they would.
"Some part of me, my subconscious maybe, never stopped believing that you still
cared whether I lived or died. That's probably why I was hearing the voices."
There was a very deep silence for a moment. "Voices?" he asked flatly.
"Well, just one voice. Yours. It's a long story." The wary look on his face made
me wish that I hadn't brought that up. Would he think I was crazy, like everyone
else? Was everyone else right about that? But at least that expression—the one
that made him look like something was burning him—faded.
"I've got time." His voice was unnaturally even.
"It's pretty pathetic."
He waited.
I wasn't sure how to explain. "Do you remember what Alice said about extreme
sports?"
He spoke the words without inflection or emphasis. "You jumped off a cliff for
fun."
"Er, right. And before that, with the motorcycle—"
"Motorcycle?" he asked. I knew his voice well enough to hear something brewing
behind the calm.
"I guess I didn't tell Alice about that part."
"No."
"Well, about that… See, I found that… when I was doing something dangerous
or stupid… I could remember you more clearly," I confessed, feeling completely
mental. "I could remember how your voice sounded when you were angry. I
could hear it, like you were standing right there next to me. Mostly I tried not to
think about you, but this didn't hurt so much—it was like you were protecting me
again. Like you didn't want me to be hurt.
"And, well, I wonder if the reason I could hear you so clearly was because,
underneath it all. I always knew that you hadn't stopped loving me."
Again, as I spoke, the words brought with them a sense of conviction. Of
rightness. Some deep place inside me recognized truth.
His words came out half-strangled. "You… were… risking your life… to hear—"
"Shh," I interrupted him. "Hold on a second. I think I'm having an epiphany here."
I thought of that night in Port Angeles when I'd had my first delusion. I'd come
up with two options. Insanity or wish fulfillment. I'd seen no third option.
But what if…
What if you sincerely believed something was true, but you were dead wrong?
What if you were so stubbornly sure that you were right, that you wouldn't even
consider the truth? Would the truth be silenced, or would it try to break through?
Option three: Edward loved me. The bond forged between us was not one that
could be broken by absence, distance, or time. And no matter how much more
special or beautiful or brilliant or perfect than me he might be, he was as
irreversibly altered as I was. As I would always belong to him, so would he
always be mine.
Was that what I'd been trying to tell myself?
"Oh!"
"Bella?"
"Oh. Okay. I see."
"Your epiphany?" he asked, his voice uneven and strained.
"You love me," I marveled. The sense of conviction and Tightness washed
through me again.
Though his eyes were still anxious, the crooked smile I loved best flashed across
his face. "Truly, I do."
My heart inflated like it was going to crack right through my ribs. It filled my
chest and blocked my throat so that I could not speak.
He really did want me the way I wanted him—forever. It was only fear for my
soul, for the human things he didn't want to take from me, that made him so
desperate to leave me mortal. Compared to the fear that he didn't want me, this
hurdle—my soul—seemed almost insignificant.
He took my face tightly between his cool hands and kissed me until I was so
dizzy the forest was spinning. Then he leaned his forehead against mine, and I
was not the only one breathing harder than usual.
"You were better at it than I was, you know," he told me.
"Better at what?"
"Surviving. You, at least, made an effort. You got up in the morning, tried to be
normal for Charlie, followed the pattern of your life. When I wasn't actively
tracking, I was… totally useless. I couldn't be around my family—I couldn't be
around anyone. I'm embarrassed to admit that I more or less curled up into a ball
and let the misery have me." He grinned, sheepish. "It was much more pathetic
than hearing voices. And, of course, you know I do that, too."
I was deeply relieved that he really seemed to understand—comforted that this all
made sense to him. At any rate, he wasn't looking at me like I was crazy. He was
looking at me like… he loved me.
"I only heard one voice," I corrected him.
He laughed and then pulled me tight against his right side and started to lead me
forward.
"I'm just humoring you with this." He motioned broadly with his hand toward the
darkness in front of us as we walked. There was something pale and immense
there—the house, I realized. "It doesn't matter in the slightest what they say."
"This affects them now, too."
He shrugged indifferently.
He led me through the open front door into the dark house and flipped the lights
on. The room was just as I'd remembered it—the piano and the white couches and
the pale, massive staircase. No dust, no white sheets.
Edward called out the names with no more volume than I'd use in regular
conversation. "Carlisle? Esme? Rosalie? Emmett? Jasper? Alice?" They would
hear.
Carlisle was suddenly standing beside me, as if he'd been there all along.
"Welcome back, Bella." He smiled. "What can we do for you this morning? I
imagine, due to the hour, that this is not a purely social visit?"
I nodded. "I'd like to talk to everyone at once, if that's okay. About something
important."
I couldn't help glancing up at Edward's face as I spoke. His expression was
critical, but resigned. When I looked back to Carlisle, he was looking at Edward,
too.
"Of course," Carlisle said. "Why don't we talk in the other room?"
Carlisle led the way through the bright living room, around the corner to the
dining room, turning on lights as he went. The walls were white, the ceilings
high, like the living room. In the center of the room, under the low-hanging
chandelier, was a large, polished oval table surrounded by eight chairs. Carlisle
held out a chair for me at the head.
I'd never seen the Cullens use the dining room table before—it was just a prop.
They didn't eat in the house.
As soon as I turned to sit in the chair, I saw that we were not alone. Esme had
followed Edward, and behind her the rest of the family filed in.
Carlisle sat down on my right, and Edward on my left. Everyone else took their
seats in silence. Alice was grinning at me, already in on the plot. Emmett and
Jasper looked curious, and Rosalie smiled at me tentatively. My answering smile
was just as timid. That was going to take some getting used to.
Carlisle nodded toward me. "The floor is yours."
I swallowed. Their gazing eyes made me nervous. Edward took my hand under
the table. I peeked at him, but he was watching the others, his fate suddenly fierce.
"Well," I paused. "I'm hoping Alice has already told you everything that
happened in Volterra?"
"Everything," Alice assured me.
I threw her a meaningful look. "And on the way?"
"That, too," she nodded.
"Good," I sighed with relief. "Then we're all on the same page."
They waited patiently while I tried to order my thoughts.
"So, I have a problem," I began. "Alice promised the Volturi that I would become
one of you. They're going to send someone to check, and I'm sure that's a bad
thing—something to avoid.
"And so, now, this involves you all. I'm sorry about that." I looked at each one of
their beautiful faces, saving the most beautiful for last. Edward's mouth was
turned down into a grimace. "But, if you don't want me, then I'm not going to
force myself on you, whether Alice is willing or not."
Esme opened her mouth to speak, but I held up one finger to stop her.
"Please, let me finish. You all know what I want. And I'm sure you know what
Edward thinks, too. I think the only fair way to decide is for everyone to have a
vote. If you decide you don't want me, then… I guess I'll go back to Italy alone. I
can't have them coming here." My forehead creased as I considered that.
There was the faint rumble of a growl in Edward's chest. I ignored him.
"Taking into account, then, that I won't put any of you in danger either way, I
want you to vote yes or no on the issue of me becoming a vampire."
I half-smiled on the last word, and gestured toward Carlisle to begin.
"Just a minute," Edward interrupted.
I glared at him through narrowed eyes. He raised his eyebrows at me, squeezing
my hand.
"I have something to add before we vote."
I sighed.
"About the danger Bella's referring to," he continued. "I don't think we need to be
overly anxious."
His expression became more animated. He put his free hand on the shining table
and leaned forward.
"You see," he explained, looking around the table while he spoke, "there was
more than one reason why I didn't want to shake Aro's hand there at the end.
There's something they didn't think of, and I didn't want to cine them in." He
grinned.
"Which was?" Alice prodded. I was sure my expression was just as skeptical as
hers.
"The Volturi are overconfident, and with good reason. When they decide to find
someone, it's not really a problem. Do you remember Demetri?" He glanced
down at me.
I shuddered. He took that as a yes.
"He finds people—that's his talent, why they keep him.
"Now, the whole time we were with any of them, I was picking their brains for
anything that might save us, getting as much information as possible. So I saw
how Demetri's talent works. He's a tracker—a tracker a thousand times more
gifted than Jarres was. His ability is loosely related to what I do, or what Aro
does. He catches the… flavor? I don't know how to describe it… the tenor… of
someone's mind, and then he follows that. It works over immense distances.
"But after Aro's little experiments, well…" Edward shrugged.
"You think he won't be able to find me," I said flatly.
He was smug. "I'm sure of it. He relies totally on that other sense. When it doesn't
work with you, they'll all be blind."
"And how does that solve anything?"
"Quite obviously, Alice will be able to tell when they're planning a visit, and I'll
hide you. They'll be helpless," he said with fierce enjoyment. "It will be like
looking for a piece of straw in a haystack!"
He and Emmett exchanged a glance and a smirk.
This made no sense. "But they can find you," I reminded him.
"And I can take care of myself."
Emmett laughed, and reached across the table toward his brother, extending a fist.
"Excellent plan, my brother," he said with enthusiasm.
Edward stretched out his arm to smack Emmett's fist with his own.
"No," Rosalie hissed.
"Absolutely not," I agreed.
"Nice." Jasper's voice was appreciative.
"Idiots," Alice muttered.
Esme just glared at Edward.
I straightened up in my chair, focusing. This was my meeting.
"All right, then. Edward has offered an alternative for you to consider," I said
coolly. "Let's vote."
I looked toward Edward this time; it would be better to get his opinion out of the
way. "Do you want me to join your family?"
His eyes were hard and black as flint. "Not that way. You're staying human."
I nodded once, keeping my face businesslike, and then moved on.
"Alice?"
"Yes."
"Jasper?"
"Yes," he said, voice grave. I was a little surprised—I hadn't been at all sure of
his vote—but I suppressed my reaction and moved on.
"Rosalie?"
She hesitated, biting down on her full, perfect bottom lip. "No."
I kept my face blank and turned my head slightly to move on, but she held up
both her hands, palms forward.
"Let me explain," she pleaded. "I don't mean that I have any aversion to you as a
sister. It's just that… this is not the life I would have chosen for myself. I wish
there had been someone there to vote no for me."
I nodded slowly, and then turned to Emmett.
"Hell, yes!" He grinned. "We can find some other way to pick a fight with this
Demetri."
I was still grimacing at that when I looked at Esme.
"Yes, of course, Bella. I already think of you as part of my family."
"Thank you, Esme," I murmured as I turned toward Carlisle.
I was suddenly nervous, wishing I had asked for his vote first. I was sure that this
was the vote that mattered most, the vote that counted more than any majority.
Carlisle wasn't looking at me.
"Edward," he said.
"No," Edward growled. His jaw was strained tight, his lips curled back from his
teeth.
"It's the only way that makes sense," Carlisle insisted. "You've chosen not to live
without her, and that doesn't leave me a choice."
Edward dropped my hand, shoving away from the table. He stalked out of the
room, snarling under his breath.
"I guess you know my vote." Carlisle sighed.
I was still staring after Edward. "Thanks," I mumbled.
An earsplitting crash echoed from the other room.
I flinched, and spoke quickly. "That's all I needed. Thank you. For wanting to
keep me. I feel exactly the same way about all of you, too." My voice was jagged
with emotion by the end.
Esme was at my side in a flash, her cold arms around me.
"Dearest Bella," she breathed.
I hugged her back. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Rosalie looking down
at the table, and I realized that my words could be construed in two ways.
"Well, Alice," I said when Esme released me. "Where do you want to do this?"
Alice stared at me, her eyes widening with terror.
"No! No! NO!" Edward roared, charging back into the room. He was in my face
before I had time to blink, bending over me, his expression twisted in rage. "Are
you insane?" he shouted. "Have you utterly lost your mind?"
I cringed away, my hands over my ears.
"Um, Bella," Alice interjected in an anxious voice. "I don't think I'm ready for
that. I'll need to prepare…"
"You promised," I reminded her, glaring under Edward's arm.
"I know, but… Seriously, Bella! I don't have any idea how to not kill you."
"You can do it," I encouraged. "I trust you."
Edward snarled in fury.
Alice shook her head quickly, looking panicked.
"Carlisle?" I turned to look at him.
Edward grabbed my face in his hand, forcing me to look at him. His other hand
was out, palm toward Carlisle.
Carlisle ignored that. "I'm able to do it," he answered my question. I wished I
could see his expression. "You would be in no danger of me losing control."
"Sounds good." I hoped he could understand; it was hard to talk clearly the way
Edward held my jaw.
"Hold on," Edward said between his teeth. "It doesn't have to be now."
"There's no reason for it not to be now," I said, the words coming out distorted.
"I can think of a few."
"Of course you can," I said sourly. "Now let go of me."
He freed my face, and folded his arms across his chest. "In about two hours,
Charlie will be here looking for you. I wouldn't put it past him to involve the
police."
"All three of them." But I frowned.
This was always the hardest part. Charlie, Renee. Now Jacob, too. The people I
would lose, the people I would hurt. I wished there was some way that I could be
the only one to suffer, but I knew that was impossible.
At the same time, I was hurting them more by staying human. Putting Charlie in
constant danger through my proximity. Putting Jake in worse danger still by
drawing his enemies across the land he felt bound to protect. And Renee—I
couldn't even risk a visit to see my own mother for fear of bringing my deadly
problems along with me!
I was a danger magnet; I'd accepted that about myself.
Accepting this, I knew I needed to be able to take care of myself and protect the
ones I loved, even if that meant that I couldn't be with them. I needed to be strong.
"In the interest of remaining inconspicuous," Edward said, still talking through
his gritted teeth, but looking at Carlisle now, "I suggest that we put this
conversation off, at the very least until Bella finishes high school, and moves out
of Charlie's house."
"That's a reasonable request, Bella," Carlisle pointed out.
I thought about Charlie's reaction when he woke up this morning, if—after all
that life had put him through in the last week with Harry's loss, and then I had put
him through with my unexplained disappearance—he were to find my bed empty.
Charlie deserved better than that. It was just a little more time; graduation wasn't
so far away…
I pursed my lips. "I'll consider it."
Edward relaxed. His jaw unclenched.
"I should probably take you home," he said, more calm now, but clearly in a
hurry to get me out of here. "Just in case Charlie wakes up early."
I looked at Carlisle. "After graduation?"
"You have my word."
I took a deep breath, smiled, and turned back to Edward. "Okay. You can take me
home."
Edward rushed me out of the house before Carlisle could promise me anything
else. He took me out the back, so I didn't get to see what was broken in the living
room.
It was a quiet trip home. I was feeling triumphant, and a little smug. Scared stiff,
too, of course, but I tried not to think about that part. It did me no good to worry
about the pain—the physical or the emotional—so I wouldn't. Not until I
absolutely had to.
When we got to my house, Edward didn't pause. He dashed up the wall and
through my window in half a second. Then he pulled my arms frcm around his
neck and set me on the bed.
I thought I had a pretty good idea of what he was thinking, but his expression
surprised me. Instead of furious, it was calculating. He paced silently back and
forth across my dark room while I watched with growing suspicion.
"Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work," I told him.
"Shh. I'm thinking."
"Ugh," I groaned, throwing myself back on the bed and pulling the quilt over my
head.
There was no sound, but suddenly he was there. He flipped the cover back so he
could see me. He was lying next to me. His hand reached up to brush my hair
from my cheek.
"If you don't mind, I'd much rather you didn't hide your face. I've lived without it
for as long as I can stand. Now… tell me something."
"What?" I asked, unwilling.
"If you could have anything in the world, anything at all, what would it be?"
I could feel the skepticism in my eyes. "You."
He shook his head impatiently. "Something you don't already have."
I wasn't sure where he was trying to lead me, so I thought carefully before I
answered. I came up with something that was both true, and also probably
impossible.
"I would want… Carlisle not to have to do it. I would want you to change me."
I watched his reaction warily, expecting more of the fury I'd seen at his house. I
was surprised that his expression didn't change. It was still calculating, thoughtful.
"What would you be willing to trade for that?"
I couldn't believe my ears. I gawked at his composed face and blurted out the
answer before I could think about it.
"Anything."
He smiled faintly, and then pursed his lips. "Five years?"
My face twisted into an expression somewhere between chagrin and horror.
"You said anything," he reminded me.
"Yes, but… you'll use the time to find a way out of it. I have to strike while the
iron is hot. Besides, it's just too dangerous to be human—for me, at least. So,
anything but that."
He frowned. "Three years?"
"No!"
"Isn't it worth anyrhing to you at all? "
I thought about how much I wanted this. Better to keep a poker face, I decided,
and not let him know how very much that was. It would give me more leverage.
"Six months?"
He rolled his eyes. "Not good enough."
"One year, then," I said. "That's my limit."
"At least give me two."
"No way. Nineteen I'll do. But I'm not going anywhere near twenty. If you're
staying in your teens forever, then so am I."
He thought for a minute. "All right. Forget time limits. If you want me to be the
one—then you'll just have to meet one condition."
"Condition?" My voice went flat. "What condition?"
His eyes were cautious—he spoke slowly. "Marry me first."
I stared at him, waiting… "Okay. What's the punch line?"
He sighed. "You're wounding my ego, Bella. I just proposed to you, and you
think it's a joke."
"Edward, please be serious."
"I am one hundred percent serious." He gazed at me with no hint of humor in his
face.
"Oh, c'mon," I said, an edge of hysteria in my voice. "I'm only eighteen."
"Well, I'm nearly a hundred and ten. It's time I settled down."
I looked away, out the dark window, trying to control the panic before it gave me
away.
"Look, marriage isn't exactly that high on my list of priorities, you know? It was
sort of the kiss of death for Renee and Charlie."
"Interesting choice of words."
"You know what I mean."
He inhaled deeply. "Please don't tell me that you're afraid of the commitment,"
his voice was disbelieving, and I understood what he meant.
"That's not it exactly," I hedged. "I'm… afraid of Renee. She has some really
intense opinions on getting married before you're thirty."
"Because she'd rather you became one of the eternal damned than get married."
He laughed darkly.
"You think you're joking."
"Bella, if you compare the level of commitment between a marital union as
opposed to bartering your soul in exchange for an eternity as a vampire…" He
shook his head. "If you're not brave enough to marry me, then—"
"Well," I interrupted. "What if I did? What if I told you to take me to Vegas now?
Would I be a vampire in three days?"
He smiled, his teeth flashing in the dark. "Sure," he said, calling my bluff. "I'll get
my car."
"Dammit." I muttered. "I'll give you eighteen months."
"No deal," he said, grinning. "I like this condition."
"Fine. I'll have Carlisle do it when I graduate."
"If that's what you really want." He shrugged, and his smile became absolutely
angelic.
"You're impossible," I groaned. "A monster."
He chuckled. "Is that why you won't marry me?"
I groaned again.
He leaned toward me; his night-dark eyes melted and smoldered and shattered
my concentration. "Please, Bella?" he breathed.
I forgot how to breathe for a moment. When I recovered, I shook my head
quickly, trying to clear my suddenly clouded mind.
"Would this have gone better if I d had time to get a ring.'"
"No! No rings!" I very nearly snouted.
"Now you've done it," he whispered.
"Oops."
"Charlie's getting up; I'd better leave," Edward said with resignation.
My heart stopped beating.
He gauged my expression for a second. "Would it be childish of me to hide in
your closet, then?"
"No," I whispered eagerly. "Stay. Please."
Edward smiled and disappeared.
I seethed in the darkness as I waited for Charlie to check on me. Edward knew
exactly what he was doing, and I was willing to bet that all the injured surprise
was part of the ploy. Of course, I still had the Carlisle option, but now that I knew
there was a chance that Edward would change me himself, I wanted it bad. He
was such a cheater.
My door cracked open.
"Morning, Dad."
"Oh, hey, Bella." He sounded embarrassed at getting caught. "I didn't know you
were awake."
"Yeah. I've just been waiting ior you to wake up so I could take a shower." I
started to get up.
"Hold on," Charlie said, flipping the light on. I blinked in the sudden brightness,
and carefully kept my eyes away from the closet. "Let's talk for a minute first."
I couldn't control my grimace. I'd forgotten to ask Alice for a good excuse.
"You know you're in trouble."
"Yeah, I know."
"I just about went crazy these last three days. I come home from Harry's funeral,
and you're gone. Jacob could only tell me that you'd run off with Alice Cullen,
and that he thought you were in trouble. You didn't leave me a number, and you
didn't call. I didn't know where you were or when—or if—you were coming
back. Do you have any idea how… how…" He couldn't finish the sentence. He
sucked in a sharp breath and moved on. "Can you give me one reason why I
shouldn't ship you off to Jacksonville this second?"
My eyes narrowed. So it was going to be threats, was it? Two could play at that
game. I sat up, pulling the quilt around me. "Because I won't go."
"Now just one minute, young lady—"
"Look, Dad, I accept complete responsibility for my actions, and you have the
right to ground me for as long as you want. I will also do all the chores and
laundry and dishes until you think I've learned my lesson. And I guess you're
within your rights if you want to kick me out, too—but that won't make me to go
to Florida."
His face turned bright red. He took a few deep breaths before he answered.
"Would you like to explain where you've been?"
Oh, crap. "There was… an emergency."
He raised his eyebrows in expectation of my brilliant explanation.
I filled my cheeks with air and then blew it out noisily. "I don't know what to tell
you, Dad. It was mostly a misunderstanding. He said, she said. It got out of hand."
He waited with a distrustful expression.
"See, Alice told Rosalie about me jumping off the cliff…" I was scrambling
frantically to make this work, to keep it as close to the truth as possible so that
my inability to lie convincingly would not undermine the excuse, but before I
could go on, Charlie's expression reminded me that he didn't know arything about
the cliff.
Major oops. As if I wasn't already toast.
"I guess I didn't tell you about that," I choked out. "It was nothing. Just messing
around, swimming with Jake. Anyway, Rosalie told Edward, and he was upset.
She sort of accidentally made it sound like I wa? trying to kill myself or
something. He wouldn't answer his phone, so Alice dragged me to… L.A., to
explain in person." I shrugged, desperately hoping that he would not be so
distracted by my slip that he'd miss the brilliant explanation I'd provided.
Charlie's face was frozen. "Were you trying to kill yourself, Bella?"
"No, of course not. Just having fun with Jake. Cliff diving. The La Push kids do it
all the time. Like I said, nothing."
Charlie's face heated up—from frozen to hot with fury. "What's it to Edward
Cullen anyway?" he barked. "All this time, he's just left you dangling without a
word—"
I interrupted him. "Another misunderstanding."
His face flushed again. "So is he back then?"
"I'm not sure what the exact plan is. I think they all are."
He shook his head, the vein in his forehead pulsing. "I want you to stay away
from him, Bella. I don't trust him. He's rotten for you. I won't let him mess you up
like that again."
"Fine," I said curtly.
Charlie rocked back onto his heels. "Oh." He scrambled for a second, exhaling
loudly in surprise. "I thought you were going to be difficult."
"I am." I stared straight into his eyes. "I meant, 'Fine, I'll move out.'"
His eyes bulged; his face turned puce. My resolve wavered as I started to worry
about his health. He was no younger than Harry…
"Dad, I don't want to move out," I said in a softer tone. "I love you. I know you're
worried, but you need to trust me on this. And you're going to have to ease up on
Edward if you want me to stay. Do you want me to live here or not?"
"That's not fair, Bella. You know I want you to stay."
"Then be nice to Edward, because he's going to be where I am." I said it with
confidence. The conviction of my epiphany was still strong.
"Not under my roof," Charlie stormed.
I sighed a heavy sigh. "Look, I'm not going to give you any more ultimatums
tonight—or I guess it's this morning. Just think about it for a few days, okay? But
keep in mind that Edward and I are sort of a package deal."
"Bella—"
"Think it over," I insisted. "And while you're doing that, could you give me some
privacy? I really need a shower."
Charlie's face was a strange shade of purple, but he left, slamming the door
behind him. I heard him stomp furiously down the stairs.
I threw off my quilt, and Edward was already there, sitting in the rocking chair as
if he d been present through the whole conversation.
"Sorry about that," I whispered.
"It's not as if I don't deserve far worse," he murmured. "Don't start anything with
Charlie over me, please. "
"Don't worry about it," I breathed as I gathered up my bathroom things and a set
of clean clothes. "I will start exactly as much as is necessary, and no more than
that. Or are you trying to tell me I have nowhere to go?" I widened my eyes with
false alarm.
"You'd move in with a house full of vampires?"
"That's probably the safest place for someone like me. Besides…" I grinned. "If
Charlie kicks me out, then there's no need for a graduation deadline, is there?"
His jaw tightened. "So eager for eternal damnation," he muttered.
"You know you don't really believe that."
"Oh, don't I?" he fumed.
"No. You don't."
He glowered at me and started to speak, but I cut him off.
"If you really believed that you'd lost your soul, then when I found you in
Volterra, you would have realized immediately what was happening, instead of
thinking we were both dead together. But you didn't—you said 'Amazing.
Carlisle was right,'" I reminded him, triumphant. "There's hope in you, after all."
For once, Edward was speechless.
"So let's both just be hopeful, all right?" I suggested. "Not that it matters. If you
stay, I don't need heaven."
He got up slowly, and came to put his hands on either side of my face as he stared
into my eyes. "Forever," he vowed, still a little staggered.
"That's all I'm asking for," I said, and stretched up on my toes so that I could
press my lips to his.
EPILOGUE TREATY
ALMOST EVERYTHING WAS BACK TO NORMAL—THE GOOD, prezombie
normal—in less time than I would have believed possible. The hospital
welcomed Carlisle back with eager arms, not even bothering to conceal their
delight that Esme had found life in L.A. so little to her liking. Thanks to the
Calculus test I'd missed while abroad, Alice and Edward were in better to shape
to graduate than I was at the moment. Suddenly, college was a priority (college
was still plan B, on the off chance that Edward's offer swayed me from the postgraduation
Carlisle option). Many deadlines had passed me by, but Edward had a
new stack of applications for me to fill out every day. He'd already done the
Harvard route, so it didn't bother him that, thanks to my procrastination, we might
both end up at Peninsula Community College next year.
Charlie was not happy with me, or speaking to Edward. But at least Edward was
allowed—during my designated visiting hours—inside the house again. I just
wasn't allowed out of it.
School and work were the only exceptions, and the dreary, dull yellow walls of
my classrooms had become oddly inviting to me of late. That had a lot to do with
the person who sat in the desk beside me.
Edward had resumed his schedule from the beginning of the year, which put him
in most of my classes again. My behavior had been such last fall, after the
Cullens' supposed move to L.A., that the seat beside me had never been filled.
Even Mike, always eager to take any advantage, had kept a safe distance. With
Edward back in place, it was almost as if the last eight months were just a
disturbing nightmare.
Almost, but not quite. There was the house arrest situation, for one thing. And for
another, before the fall, I hadn't been best friends with Jacob Black. So, of course,
I hadn't missed him then.
I wasn't at liberty to go to La Push, and Jacob wasn't coming to see me. He
wouldn't even answer my phone calls.
I made these calls mostly at night, after Edward had been kicked out—promptly
at nine by a grimly gleeful Charlie—and before Edward snuck back through my
window when Charlie was asleep. I chose that time to make my fruitless calls
because I'd noticed that Edward made a certain face every time I mentioned
Jacob's name. Sort of disapproving and wary… maybe even angry. I guessed that
he had some reciprocal prejudice against the werewolves, though he wasn't as
vocal as Jacob had been about the "bloodsuckers."
So, I didn't mention Jacob much.
With Edward near me, it was hard to think about unhappy things—even my
former besi fnend, who was probably very unhappy right now, due to me. When I
did think of Jake, I always felt guilty for not thinking of him more.
The fairy tale was back on. Prince returned, bad spell broken. I wasn't sure
exactly what to do about the leftover, unresolved character. Where was his
happily ever after?
Weeks passed, and Jacob still wouldn't answer my calls. It started to become a
constant worry. Like a dripping faucet in the back of my head that I couldn't shut
off or ignore. Drip, drip, drip. Jacob, Jacob, Jacob.
So, though I didn't mention Jacob much, sometimes my frustration and anxiety
boiled over.
"It's just plain rude!" I vented one Saturday afternoon when Edward picked me up
from work. Being angry about things was easier than feeling guilty. "Downright
insulting!"
I'd varied my pattern, in hopes of a different response. I'd called Jake from work
this time, only to get an unhelpful Billy. Again.
"Billy said he didn't want to talk to me," I fumed, glaring at the rain oozing down
the passenger window.
"That he was there, and wouldn't walk three steps to get to the phone! Usually
Billy just says he's out or busy or sleeping or something. I mean, it's not like I
didn't know he was lying to me, but at least it was a polite way to handle it. I
guess Billy hates me now, too. It's not fair!"
"It's not you, Bella," Edward said quietly. "Nobody hates you."
"Feels that way," I muttered, folding my arms across my chest. It was no more
than a stubborn gesture. There was no hole there now—I could barely remember
the empty feeling anymore.
"Jacob knows we're back, and I'm sure that he's ascertained that I'm with you,"
Edward said. "He won't come anywhere near me. The enmity is rooted too
deeply."
"That's stupid. He knows you're not… like other vampires."
"There's still good reason to keep a safe distance."
I glared blindly out the windshield, seeing only Jacob's face, set in the bitter mask
I hated.
"Bella, we are what we are," Edward said quietly. "I can control myself, but I
doubt he can. He's very young. It would most likely turn into a fight, and I don't
know if I could stop it before I k—" he broke off, and then quickly continued.
"Before I hurt him. You would be unhappy. I don't want that to happen."
I remembered what Jacob had said in the kitchen, hearing the words with perfect
recall in his husky voice. I'm not sure that I'm even-tempered enough to handle
that… You probably wouldn't like it so much if I killed your friend. But he'd been
able to handle it, that time…
"Edward Cullen," I whispered. "Were you about to say 'killed him? Were you?"
He looked away from me, staring into the rain. In front of us, the red light I hadn't
noticed turned green and he started forward again, driving very slowly. Not his
usual way of driving.
"I would try… very hard… not to do that," Edward finally said.
I stared at him with my mouth hanging open, but he continued to look straight
ahead. We were paused at the corner stop sign.
Abruptly, I remembered what had happened to Paris when Romeo came back.
The stage directions were simple: They fight. Paris falls.
But that was ridiculous. Impossible.
"Well," I said, and took a deep breath, shaking my head to dispel the words in my
head. "Nothing like that is ever going to happen, so there's no reason to worry
about it. And you know Charlie's staring at the clock right now. You'd better get
me home before I get in more trouble for being late."
I turned my face up toward him, to smile halfheartedly.
Every time I looked at his face, that impossibly perfect face, my heart pounded
strong and healthy and very there in my chest. This time, the pounding raced
ahead of its usual besotted pace. I recognized the expression on his statue-still
face.
"You're already in more trouble, Bella," he whispered through unmoving lips.
I slid closer, clutching his arm as I followed his gaze to see what he was seeing. I
don't know what I expected—maybe Victoria standing in the middle of the street,
her flaming red hair blowing in the wind, or a line of tall black cloaks… or a pack
of angry werewolves. But I didn't see anything at all.
"What? What is it?"
He took a deep breath. "Charlie…"
"My dad?" I screeched.
He looked down at me then, and his expression was calm enough to ease some of
my panic.
"Charlie… is probably not going to kill you, but he's thinking about it," he told
me. He started to drive forward again, down my street, but he passed the house
and parked by the edge of the trees.
"What did I do?" I gasped.
Edward glanced back at Charlie's house. I followed his gaze, and noticed for the
first time what was parked in the driveway next to the cruiser. Shiny, bright red,
impossible to miss. My motorcycle, flaunting itself in the driveway.
Edward had said that Charlie was ready to kill me, so he must know that—that it
was mine. There was only one person who could be behind this treachery.
"No!" I gasped. "Why? Why would Jacob do this to me?" The sting of betrayal
washed through me. I had trusted Jacob implicitly—trusted him with every single
secret I had. He was supposed to be my safe harbor—the person I could always
rely on. Of course things were strained right now, but I didn't think any of the
underlying foundation had changed. I didn't think that was changeable!
What had I done to deserve this? Charlie was going to be so mad—and worse
than that, he was going to be hurt and worried. Didn't he have enough to deal
with already? I would have never imagined that Jake could be so petty and just
plain mean. Tears sprang, smarting, into my eyes, but they were not tears of
sadness. I had been betrayed. I was suddenly so angry that my head throbbed like
it was going to explode.
"Is he still here?" I hissed.
"Yes. He's waiting for us there." Edward told me, nodding toward the slender
path that divided the dark fringe of the forest in two.
I jumped out of the car, launching myself toward the trees with my hands already
balled into fists for the first punch.
Why did Edward have to be so much faster than me?
He caught me around the waist before I made the path.
"Let me go! I'm going to murder him! Traitor!" I shouted the epithet toward the
trees.
"Charlie will hear you," Edward warned me. "And once he gets you inside, he
may brick over the doorway."
I glanced back at the house instinctively, and it seemed like the glossy red bike
was all I could see. I was seeing red. My head throbbed again.
"Just give me one round with Jacob, and then I'll deal with Charlie." I struggled
futilely to break free.
"Jacob Black wants to see me. That's why he's still here."
That stopped me cold—took the fight right out of me. My hands went limp. They
fight; Paris falls.
I was furious, but not that furious.
"Talk?" I asked.
"More or less."
"How much more?" My voice shook.
Edward smoothed my hair back from my face. "Don't worry, he's not here to fight
me. He's acting as… spokesperson for the pack."
"Oh."
Edward looked at the house again, then tightened his arm around my waist and
pulled me toward the woods. "We should hurry. Charlie's getting impatient."
We didn't have to go far; Jacob waited just a short ways up the path. He lounged
against a mossy tree trunk as he waited, his face hard and bitter, exactly the way I
knew it would be. He looked at me, and then at Edward. Jacob's mouth stretched
into a humorless sneer, and he shrugged away from the tree. He stood on the balls
of his bare feet, leaning slightly forward, with his trembling hands clenched into
fists. He looked bigger than the last time I'd seen him. Somehow, impossibly, he
was still growing. He would tower over Edward, if they stood next to each other.
But Edward stopped as soon as we saw him, leaving a wide space between us and
Jacob. Edward turned his body, shifting me so that I was behind him. I leaned
around him to stare at Jacob—to accuse him with my eyes.
I would have thought that seeing his resentful, cynical expression would only
make me angrier. Instead, it reminded me of the last time I'd seen him, with tears
in his eyes. My fury weakened, faltered, as I stared at Jacob. It had been so long
since I'd seen him—I hated that our reunion had to be like this.
"Bella," Jacob said as a greeting, nodding once toward me without looking away
from Edward.
"Why?" I whispered, trying to hide the sound of the lump in my throat. "How
could you do this to me, Jacob?"
The sneer vanished, but his face stayed hard and rigid. "It's for the best."
"What is that supposed to mean? Do you want Charlie to strangle me? Or did
you want him to have a heart attack, like Harry? No matter how mad you are at
me, how could you do this to him?"
Jacob winced, and his eyebrows pulled together, but he didn't answer.
"He didn't want to hurt anyone—he just wanted to get you grounded, so that you
wouldn't be allowed to spend time with me," Edward murmured, explaining the
thoughts Jacob wouldn't say.
Jacob's eyes sparked with hate as he glowered at Edward again.
"Aw, Jake!" I groaned. "I'm already grounded! Why do you think I haven't been
down to La Push to kick your butt for avoiding my phone calls?"
Jacob's eyes flashed back to me, confused for the first time. "That's why?" he
asked, and then locked his jaw, like he was sorry he'd said anything.
"He thought I wouldn't let you, not Charlie," Edward explained again.
"Stop that," Jacob snapped.
Edward didn't answer.
Jacob shuddered once, and then gritted his teeth as hard as his fists. "Bella wasn't
exaggerating about your… abilities," he said through his teeth. "So you must
already know why I'm here."
"Yes," Edward agreed in a soft voice. "But, before you begin, I need to say
something."
Jacob waited, clenching and unclenching his hands as he tried to control the
shivers rolling down his arms.
"Thank you," Edward said, and his voice throbbed with the depth of his sincerity.
"I will never be able to tell you how grateful I am. I will owe you for the rest of
my… existence."
Jacob stared at him blankly, his shudders stilled by surprise. He exchanged a
quick glance with me, but my face was just as mystified.
"For keeping Bella alive," Edward clarified, his voice rough and fervent. "When
I… didn't."
"Edward—," I started to say, but he held one hand up, his eyes on Jacob.
Understanding washed over Jacob's face before the hard mask returned. "I didn't
do it for your benefit."
"I know. But that doesn't erase the gratitude I feel. I thought you should know. If
there's ever anything in my power to do for you…"
Jacob raised one black brow.
Edward shook his head. "That's not in my power."
"Whose, then?" Jacob growled.
Edward looked down at me. "Hers. I'm a quick learner, Jacob Black, and I don't
make the same mistake twice. I'm here until she orders me away."
I was immersed momentarily in his golden gaze. It wasn't hard to understand
what I'd missed in the conversation. The only thing that Jacob would want from
Edward would be his absence.
"Never," I whispered, still locked in Edward's eyes.
Jacob made a gagging sound.
I unwillingly broke free from Edward's gaze to frown at Jacob. "Was there
something else you needed, Jacob? You wanted me in trouble—mission
Accomplished. Charlie might just send me to military school. But that won't keep
me away from Edward. There's nothing that can do that. What more do you
want?"
Jacob kept his eyes on Edward "I just needed to remind your bloodsucking
friends of a few key points in the treaty they agreed to. The treaty chat is the only
thing stopping me from ripping his throat out right this minute."
"We haven't forgotten," Edward said at the same time that I demanded, "What
key points?"
Jacob still glowered at Edward, but he answered me. "The treaty is quite specific.
If any of them bite a human, the truce is over. Bite, not kill," he emphasized.
Finally, he looked at me. His eyes were cold.
It only took me a second to grasp the distinction, and then my face was as cold as
his.
"That's none of your business."
"The hell it—" was all he managed to choke out.
I didn't expect my hasty words to bring on such a strong response. Despite the
warning he'd come to give, he must not have known. He must have thought the
warning was just a precaution. He hadn't realized—or didn't want to believe—
that I had already made my choice. That I was really intending to become a
member of the Cullen family.
My answer sent Jacob into near convulsions. He pressed his fists hard against his
temples, closing his eyes tight and curling in on himself as he tried to control the
spasms. His face turned sallow green under the russet skin.
"Jake? You okay?" I asked anxiously.
I took a half-step toward him, then Edward caught me and yanked me back
behind his own body. "Careful! He's not under control," he warned me.
But Jacob was already somewhat himself again; only his arms were shaking now.
He scowled at Edward with pure hate. "Ugh. I would never hurt her."
Neither Edward or I missed the inflection, or the accusation it contained. A low
hiss escaped Edward's lips. Jacob clenched his fists reflexively.
"BELLA!" Charlie's roar echoed from the direction of the house. "YOU GET IN
THIS HOUSE THIS INSTANT!"
All of us froze, listening to the silence that followed.
I was the first to speak; my voice trembled. "Crap."
Jacob's furious expression faltered. "I am sorry about that," he muttered. "I had to
do what I could—I had to try…"
"Thanks." The tremor in my voice ruined the sarcasm. I stared up the path, halfexpecting
Charlie to come barreling through the wet ferns like an enraged bull. I
would be the red flag in that scenario.
"Just one more thing," Edward said to me, and then he looked at Jacob. "We've
found no trace of Victoria on our side of the line—have you?"
He knew the answer as soon as Jacob thought it, but Jacob spoke the answer
anyway. "Trie last time was while Bella was… away. We let her think she was
slipping through—we were tightening the circle, getting ready to ambush her—"
Ice shot down my spine.
"But then she took off like a bat out of hell. Near as we can tell, she caught your
little female's scent and bailed. She hasn't come near our lands since."
Edward nodded. "When she comes back, she's not your problem anymore. We'll
—"
"She killed on our turf," Jacob hissed. "She's ours!"
"No—," I began to protest both declarations.
"BELLA! I SEE HIS CAR AND I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE! IF YOU
AREN'T INSIDE THIS HOUSE IN ONE MINUTE… !" Charlie didn't bother to
finish his threat.
"Let's go," Edward said.
I looked back at Jacob, torn. Would I see him again?
"Sorry," he whispered so low that I had to read his lips to understand. '"Bye,
Bells."
"You promised," I reminded him desperately. "Still friends, right?"
Jacob shook his head slowly, and the lump in my throat nearly strangled me.
"You know how hard I've tried to keep that promise, but… I can't see how to
keep trying. Not now…" He struggled to keep his hard mask in place, but it
wavered, and then disappeared. "Miss you," he mouthed. One of his hands
reached toward me, his fingers outstretched, like he wished they were long
enough to cross the distance between us.
"Me, too," I choked out. My hand reached toward his across the wide space.
Like we were connected, the echo of his pain twisted inside me. His pain, my
pain.
"Jake…" I took a step toward him. I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist
and erase the expression of misery on his face.
Edward pulled me back again, his arms restraining instead of defending.
"It's okay," I promised him, looking up to read his face with trust in my eyes. He
would understand.
His eyes were unreadable, his face expressionless. Cold. "No, it's not."
"Let her go," Jacob snarled, furious again. "She wants to!" He took two long
strides forward. A glint of anticipation flashed in his eyes. His chest seemed to
swell as it shuddered.
Edward pushed me behind himself, wheeling to face Jacob.
"No! Edward—!"
"ISABELLA SWAN!"
"Come on! Charlie's mad!" My voice was panicked, but not because of Charlie
now. "Hurry!"
I tugged on him and he relaxed a little. He pulled me back slowly, always
keeping his eyes on Jacob as we retreated.
Jacob watched us with a dark scowl on his bitter face. The anticipation drained
from his eyes, and then, just before the forest came between us, his face suddenly
crumpled in pain.
I knew that last glimpse of his face would haunt me until I saw him smile again.
And right there I vowed that I would see him smile, and soon. I would find a way
to keep my friend.
Edward kept his arm tight around my waist, holding me close. That was the only
thing that held the tears inside my eyes.
I had some serious problems.
My best friend counted me with his enemies.
Victoria was still on the loose, putting everyone I loved in danger.
If I didn't become a vampire soon, the Volturi would kill me.
And now it seemed that if I did, the Quileute werewolves would try to do the job
themselves—along with trying to kill my future family. I didn't think they had
any chance really, but would my best friend get himself killed in the attempt?
Very serious problems. So why did they all suddenly seem insignificant when we
broke through the last of the trees and I caught sight of the expression on
Charlie's purple face?
Edward squeezed me gently. "I'm here."
I drew in a deep breath.
That was true. Edward was here, with his arms around me.
I could face anything as long as that was true.
I squared my shoulders and walked forward to meet my fate, with my destiny
solidly at my side.
Acknowledgments
So much love and thanks to my husband and sons for their continuing
understanding and sacrifice in support of my writing
At least I'm not the only one to benefit—I in sure many local restaurants are
grateful that I don't cook anymore
Thank you, Mom, for being my best friend and letting me talk your ear off
through all the rough spots Thanks, also, for being so insanely creative and
intelligent, and bequeathing a small portion of both into my genetic makeup
Thanks to all my siblings, Emily, Heidi, Paul, Seth, and Jacob, for letting me
borrow your names I hope I didn't do anything with them that makes you wish
you hadn't
A special thanks to my brother Paul for the motorcycle riding lesson—you have a
true gift for teaching.
I can't thank my brother Seth enough for all the hard work and genius he put into
the creation of http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/ I'm so grateful for the effort he
continues to expend as my Webmaster Check's in the mail, kid
This time, I mean it
Thanks again to my brother Jacob for his ongoing expert advice on all my
automotive choices
A big thank you to my agent, Jodi Reamer, for her continued guidance and
assistance in my career And also for enduring my craziness with a smile when I
know she d like to use some of her ninja moves on me instead
Love, kisses, and gratitude to my publicist, the beautiful Elizabeth Eulberg, for
making my touring experience less a chore and more a pajama party, for aiding
and abetting my cyber-stalkery, for convincing those exclusive snobs in the EEC
(Elizabeth Eulberg Club) to let me in, and, oh yeah, also for getting me on the
New York Times bestseller's list
A huge vat of thanks to everyone at Little, Brown and Company for their support
and their belief in the potential of my stories
And, finally, thank you to the talented musicians who inspire me, particularly the
band Muse—there are emotions, scenes, and plot threads in this novel that were
born from Muse songs and would not exist without their genius
Also Linkin Park, Travis, Elbow, Coldplay, Marjoric Fair, My Chemical
Romance, Brand New, The Strokes, Armor for Sleep, The Arcade Fire, and The
Fray have all been instrumental in staving off the writer's block