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I could see that now—how the universe swirled around this one point. I'd never seen the symmetry before, but now it was plain. The gravity of the earth no longer tied me to the place where I stood.
- Jacob Black
I have a question for you, child. Do you believe in vampires? Why would you? They are myths, nothing more than a drunkard's imaginings. Ancient webs spun from the dreams of the celestial sciences; of silver-allergic animals, grave stalkers needing nothing but living tissue to stave off the eternal 'munchies', hermitic beings that concoct elixirs with a thing for fuzzy assistants and small, shiny objects, birdmen and fish women, giant insects and reptiles with nothing better to do than terrorize decent folks, etcetera… All spawned from the dream world. And what danger is there of a mere dream?
That is my thoughts exactly… at least they were. Now that I am nothing more than the same, what other Cursed Ones could be around us, unawares?
The man shook his head free of philosophy – it's pointless for a simpleton to think round in circles. He had many things to do this morning, and daydreaming was far down the list.
The sharp bell made the man wince as he wandered into a small goods building.
"Hello, sir! Welcome to Newton's Sports."
The man nodded, looking at the fancy equipment used for outdoors sports. How an outdoor-sports shop survived in constant rain eluded him. The staring gaze did not. Of course, he would look strange and out of place now; it had been a long time since he came to a town.
He glanced from the male's clothing to his own. A pair of strange slacks and a striped, red and white cotton shirt was the work uniform, along with the name tag reading Mike in bold font. Wearing the faded and dirty dress shirt, mud plastered blue jeans and weathered leather jacket, the foreigner appeared to have jumped out of an old shoot'em-up movie. He was sure the heavy boots did not help much.
"So, are you looking for anything specific, mister…?" Mike asked, moving from behind the counter.
"Oh, just some supplies and ammunition."
The kid eyed his sidearm quickly. "We don't have any rounds or anything like that, but we've got plenty of gear for hiking, camping, fishing, mountain climbing, kayaking, even archery… What did you have in mind?"
"Just a little hunting," the man in cowboy gear answered smoothly. Then he flashed a brilliant, one-sided smile. "Tell me, Michael, have there been any strange disappearances recently?"
Mike gave him a curious look. "Sir?"
"Pets, tourists, wildlife–that sort of thing? Or maybe in nearby villages?" The man winced when he noticed how out of date he sounded. Thankfully Mike found the term quaint. His eyes roamed from side to side as he searched for information.
"Well, things have been crazy, I guess. There were some bear attacks last summer. But we've been way lucky compared to Seattle and Port Angeles. They've had two serial killers since then."
The man stilled, stopped his casual inspection of a Swiss army knife. When he had the cowboy's full attention, Mike continued.
"At first, the news said it was the same guy, but later police said the second one was a copy cat."
The man raised his left hand to his chin, thinking deeply.
"Um, look…" Newton sighed. "If you walk out of here without even looking at something, Dad's not gonna let me leave early. Can I just show you the jackets until he gets back?"
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The man actually found the boy well informed, and talked with him about the small town of Forks, Washington. He learned about the school, the people, the reservation beach, and…
"The Cullens?" he cut in.
"Yes, Sir." Mike abruptly went quiet, like he was about to discuss something illicit.
"What do they look like? I shall like to meet them."
"Well, there's Mr. Carlisle Cullen; he's a great doctor, and Mrs. Esme Cullen is very nice. But I guess they couldn't have kids, since all of their kids are adopted. But there are a lot of rumors around school about them being… really close family. I mean, they're not blood related or anything, but…"
The man raised an eyebrow. It was none of his business what preferences these people had, if they could give him information. Mike fidgeted, embarrassed.
"Rosalie, Jasper and Mr. Cullen all have blonde hair. The short one is Alice…"
"Anything else?" The other brow rose at the wistful smile braking Mike Newton's newfound humility.
"You'll recognize them instantly." And then Mike had a surprisingly sharp look aimed at him. "Why are you asking so many questions?"
A pause, and the man opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted. "Look, if they're in some sort of trouble, leave Bella out of it, okay? She got here and started hanging out with them—" The man's nose twitched at the emotion in that last word—" and then nearly killed herself over them when they left the first time. And now, she just got married to the bastard, so whatever you do, don't you hurt her over it. Her dad's chief of police, so-" the man put up a hand to stop the emotional teenager before he said something to regret.
"I don't know these Cullens or anything about them." Mike waited with baited breath.
The man continued, "I'm looking for someone... I have a feeling that he may have run into these Cullens, if anybody in this town."
"Oh." The boy fidgeted. To ease his humility, the stranger shrugged on his new, modern jacket and picked up the sack that held the rest of his items. He was just glad that his money was still good here.
"Is there an Inn somewhere nearby?"
"Oh, sure." Mike Newton gave the directions, along with the location of a supermarket. "They don't serve breakfast there, so it's Be-Why-Oh-Be only." The man stared at him oddly, but then shook it off.
"Thank you, Michael." The boy gave a sideways grin.
"It's my job."
The man headed to the door, and Mike hesitated. "Hey, uh," Mike scratched his head nervously. "If you run into Bella, can you tell her, 'Hi,' for me?" The man nodded, and was gone. As he left, another, older looking man stepped inside, eyeing the man's heavy bag of new equipment
"Way to go, Mike!" he greeted with a wide smile. Mike Newton smiled in return.