Preface

Rain beat against the old white-shackled house like a vicious monster pounding to get inside, the wind blowing it every which way along with the trees and the branches and the trash cans outside of each house. A beige plastic can banged against little Nicholas's window as he screamed and covered his head, his eyes shutting as he ducked beneath the bed. This weather wasn't usual for anywhere else in the country, but even the Olympic Peninsula had rarely seen storms such as this one. Beneath the roar of the monsoon, he could hear his parents yelling.

"You've got to be kidding me," his mother said, her voice choked up with stifled tears. "You have got to be kidding me right now."

He ran to the door and peeked out the crack. His parents were right there, standing in the short hallway that led the bedrooms to the kitchen in the one-floor home. His father Jacob was bent over, picking something up off the ground—two large boxes.

Suitcases, Nicholas thought. He gulped and shredded nervously at the wood that was on the doorframe.

"I can't be here," said Jacob solemnly. "I can't deal with this anymore."

"So that's it. You're just going to leave us." His mother Renesmee put a hand on her hip. Her foot was tapping quickly like it did when she was anxious, but she was keeping it together pretty well. Renesmee had a thing for composure during her and Jacob's arguments; even if he was so angry that Nicholas thought his father would hit her for sure, Renesmee stayed calm. But now was different—much different, and Nicholas could tell.

Jacob stood up straight, his muscles flexing with the weight of the bags and started into the kitchen but Renesmee put a hand on his chest. "Please don't do this, Jake."

"I can't be here."

She stomped her foot agitatedly. "And tell me why not! Tell me why you have to leave. Please, I would love to know."

His father huffed. "It's not as simple as that—"

"What, you found another woman? Did you 're-imprint'? Is that what happened, because, Jacob, you can tell me these things." Her eyes seemed like they were glowing, they were so glossy.

He shook his head, his jaw clenching as he looked away. His hand was on her face now, cupping her cheek against his big palm; it was then that Nicholas noticed his father was shaking—trembling, like he was freezing or having a seizure.

The little boy's breath caught in his throat as he watched Jacob slowly lean down and kiss Renesmee with wide blue eyes. And then, he lifted the suitcases and stalked to the foyer, leaving his wife alone in the kitchen.

For just a moment, everything was silent. All movement in the world seemed to cease, and the only things breathing were him and his mother. Then, Nicholas heard the slam of the front door and realized that his father was gone.

He couldn't fully comprehend what was going on. Just a day before, they had been playing flag football under the bright Washington sun together, the heat thick in the air and the life of the forest purring around them. Renesmee was sitting on the deck with chipping red paint, smiling and laughing every time Nicholas got around his father. Everything seemed to be perfect.

But now that he thought about it…Jacob seemed utterly distressed about something the night before. He was leaning over the kitchen table, his fingers at his temples pushing the skin up into little wrinkles, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Renesmee had gone to sleep by then, but what she didn't know was that her husband was sitting in the dim light of the next room over, clearly bothered by something. Something…something…what had it been?

Perhaps he was fired from his job at the garage in downtown Forks; that would've ticked him off. But, enough to make him leave? The word 'leave' burned in Nicholas's throat and sent shockwaves through his brain, and he tried to shake the bad feeling that came with it away.

"You're in a dream, you're in a dream," he repeated to himself constantly. "You're in a dream. You're dreaming." He started to pinch the ivory skin on his wrist, leaving tiny folds where his nails bit together. "Wake up, Nick, wake up!"

He could hear Renesmee pull a chair out at the kitchen table and sit down. She let out a loud sigh, and then came the worst part.

She wasn't crying—that would be an understatement. Her cries came out in hiccupped sobs and muffled wails, like somebody had punched the life out of her and she was trying to attract attention from the nearby cops. Catch the bad guys, she seemed to plead. Catch Jacob and bring him home.

Still crouched in front of his door, Nick clasped his hands into fists and began panting. Why aren't I waking up? he asked himself, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. I need to get out of here. I need to get out of this nightmare!

He started to pinch himself harder and faster—on his arms, on his legs, on his stomach and shoulders and chest—anywhere he could reach. His hands were quivering and wet from the perspiration now all over his body, and Nick blubbered at the realization that this was not a dream. Salty tears dripped down his now-red cheeks, but he bit his lip to try and prevent the cries from escaping. The last thing he needed was Renesmee to be concerned for his well-being, but that was inevitable now. His father was gone, leaving only him and Renesmee behind to fend for themselves. It's a dark world out there, his grandfather Edward told him once.

And now Nick could see why.

Heartbroken and afraid, the boy crawled into his bed and pulled the covers over his head. The hurricane was still raging just outside his window, and he yanked the blankets tighter to his chin. This couldn't be happening. How could God, if there was one, let this happen to him? He said his prayers, he listened to his parents, he did all of his chores…he even did well in school. Nick began reciting all of the reasons why God shouldn't have let this happen like he'd had them rehearsed. He started to plead, his hands clutching each other in a desperate beg, and after a while the weather began to subside. But that didn't matter, because now Nick was dreaming for real.

He opened his eyes to a dark forest, the one that he vaguely recognized from behind his house in La Push, where his grandfather Billy had lived years and years ago. He turned behind him and saw the flat red ranch with the wheelchair ramp and the shed where Jacob used to work, but in front of him was an abyss that he'd never approached. The moss-covered tree trunks and vines were like green skyscrapers ahead, and giant boulders glistened with random patches of sunlight that leaked through the natural canopy. It had to be early afternoon.

Suddenly he heard the crunch of leaves like footsteps from Billy's yard. "Nick?" his mother's voice called.

"Mom?" He spun around abruptly, but when he looked no one was there. Instead of walking towards the grass, though, Nick went further into the woods. "Mom, where are you?" He broke into a run, his jeans an uncomfortable jogging suit for his speed. "Mom?"

Nick heard a gust of wind and the rustle of leaves from just behind him, but when whirled around—again—nothing was there. "Whoever you are," he warned, "just come out! I know you're there!"

Silence.

Angrily, Nick started to sprint. He ran over the giant rocks and gnarled roots, his white Chuck Taylor shoelaces untying in the muck and underbrush. "Come out of your hiding! You can't fool me!" Now he sounded psychotic. He was surely talking to nothing; there had just been a rabbit, or a chipmunk perhaps. Yet something was convincing him of a somewhat bigger force than just a rodent. Something…

All of sudden a huge russet creature jumped out from behind the tree to his right. It tackled Nick to the ground, against the leaves, against the rocks. It felt as if his spine had been cracked in half and now his skull was next. The wolf snarled and ripped at his denim jacket, tearing away the fabric and then reaching in for his navy sweatshirt. His hands shoved feebly at the wolf's muzzle and his legs felt like they were stuck in ice.

But he wasn't ready to die; to be mauled to death by this wolf-bear animal was a cruel way to die, but that wasn't the way Nick was going to go. He could feel a strange fire sizzling in his blood, boiling against the veins that were networked underneath the skin in his arms and legs, and his heart started beating quickly and violently. His hands were shaking the way Jacob's were when he'd held Renesmee's face, and the way they had when Nick heard his mother's sobs from the kitchen. And then, he could hear them again, throbbing against the walls of his head like a beast howling to get out of its cage.

And then, as if it was destined to happen, a surge of energy that Nick had never felt before dashed throughout him. His clothes exploded away from his body and his hands and feet turned into huge black claws. His entire form was covered in fur—the same midnight ebony that he had seen on his hands—as he pushed the wolf off of him and into a boulder. The russet animal whimpered in pain and ducked away from Nick, as he leapt into the air in an attempt to finish his attacker…

The first thing Nick felt was his tail hit the lamp that sat at his bedside table and sent the porcelain flying against the wall, smashing into hundreds of tiny pieces. His bed collapsed from beneath him, the iron-wrought posts caving inwards and snapping the springs that held the mattress upright. Nick thought he could hear a sound coming from the hallway—or the kitchen, maybe—but he was so furious that he simply didn't care. With a mighty jump, the black creature went through the window, shattering glass onto the wooden floor and into the grass below.

Nick stood there, breathing heavily for just a moment, his breath coming out into the cold March air as puffs of steam. In the distance, he could hear the shriek of what he thought was another wolf, just as lightning illuminated the night sky and sent a roll of thunder amidst the clouds. Yet he was wrong.

In a shiver he was standing on his two feet again, but his body was frozen and naked in the rain. His knees gave out and he crumpled into the mud, lying exposed to the rest of the world around him once again.

"Nicholas!" he heard Renesmee holler from the deck as another boom of thunder sounded throughout La Push.

Nick then shuddered at the terrible discovery that it wasn't another wolf that he had heard: it was him.