Water cascaded down the shower curtain in elegant spirals, sliding over the pristine white tiles to finally land on the desiccated corpse lying fully clothed and face down in the stream. Fog swirled around the room in a ghostly mist, fanning along the mirror to expel itself through the open door. Heat and moisture made the air thick, muggy, like it could no longer bare its own weight.

Jacob Black studied the scene, going through the motions like an experienced mortician. The body didn't disrupt his natural smile, nor did it occur to him to put down his coffee and breakfast sandwich as forensics swept the room for evidence. He simply waited to see the girls face. Taking a sip of his coffee, he winced, not realizing until that moment he had forgotten sugar. He checked his watch, the digital timer reading 5:30am. With a heavy sigh he took another drink of his coffee, knowing that despite the taste it would help him stay awake.

Patience paid off in the end and, as he finished his sandwich, one of the forensic team members motioned for him to move the body face up. Setting his coffee on the bathroom counter, Jacob went to turn off the water. When the fiery stream was no longer in the way, he carefully extended his gloved hands and touched the shoulder of the dead girl. Gripping her body firmly, he gently rolled her over onto her back, gasping at what he saw. The words "Whoever so reads this will be next" were cut sharply down her face, neck, and chest.

For the first time in eleven years on the job, Jacob froze.

Forensics swooped over the body like vultures ready for a feast, bypassing John when he did not move away. He could not look away from the curved writing that adorned the girls flesh. Her russet brown hair, wet and flowing over her body, her pale skin marred by both the hot water and the words, called to him like no other had before.

He knew who had done this.

Without so much as a glance backward, he stood and walked rigidly out of the bathroom, leaving his coffee on the counter.

"Mr. Black?" one of the newbie's, John, asked as Jacob made his exit, "Do you think I might be able to go in there and examine the body? I know I'm new, but I would like to get used to this sort of thing."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jacob admired the young man's courage and willingness to help. Distractedly he waved the young man into the bathroom, foregoing signing out and deciding to go straight to his car. As he walked out of the house, he stared thoughtfully at the innocuous looking neighborhood. White picket fences, pale blue house, and golden retrievers seemed to be the norm; even for the house that had just experienced a murder.

How many other people would die? he wondered.

Digging his keys out of his pocket, John strode to his plain black car and unlocked it. A sharp pain in his head caused him to pause as he opened his door. Gripping his head tightly, he waited for the moment his sudden headache would pass. For long seconds he forgot where he was, not realizing how long he had been standing there. The pain receded, leaving him shaken and sweaty. He carefully got into the car.

A piece of paper sat on his dashboard.

Jacob froze for the second time that night. Slowly, cautiously, he reached for the paper, already knowing what it was. A note stared back at him in the same, all too familiar writing that adorned the girls flesh.

Jacob-

I regretfully inform you that you are the next to die. There can be no exceptions, no rule breaking. You made these boundaries, John, now you have to live with the consequences. Finding me will not stop it. I will strike one last time, ending this game with you.

One. One more person would fall. And it would be him. Despite his own rules, he had to try and stop this, hoping against all hope he was wrong

BPOV

The woods had always been a safe place, somewhere I could go in order to think, to feel what I actually wanted to feel for once. It wasn't like my life was horrible or anything. I fed Charlie, my dad, on a daily basis and took care of my mom as best I could when I was here in Forks and she was in Florida. I just felt so bored. I had always been an adventurous spirit, but that spirit was tamed when I had to grow up and raise my mom. So here, in the woods, I felt like I could let myself imagine, if only for an hour, that my life wasn't so boring.

What struck as me as odd, though, was that an ominous chill seemed to emanate form the tree's this night. I pulled my hoodie tighter around me, ignoring my basic human instinct to run. The night breeze blew my mahogany hair back and out of my face, carrying with it the smell of pine and the recent rain. A smile graced my lips as I heard a wolf howl in the distance.

But it wasn't a wolf. . .

I froze mid-step, tripping myself on a tree root. My hands hit the ground first and I knew by the sharp tug I felt that they were bleeding. I groaned inwardly as my face hit the bush in front of me, hiding me from the rest of the forest. I felt queasy as the smell of salt and metal hit my nose, but I forced myself not to concentrate on that.

Someone had screamed. And it sure as hell wasn't a wolf.

Not moving from my position on the ground, I listened intently to the forest around me. Was I just imagining things? It wouldn't have been the first time. But I could have sworn I heard a decidedly female scream. I shook my head, almost laughing to myself at the ridiculousness of the situation. Here I was, bleeding and hunched over on the forest floor in a black hoodie and the stupid tight jeans Alice made me wear today for school. So not appropriate for evening strolls in the woods.

And then I heard the scream again.

My heart sputtered to a stop, then picked up the pace double time. The scream was closer, and I could hear the pounding of feet hitting the earth. What in the hell was going on? I quickly scrambled up and pressed myself further into the bush, peeking through the branches and completely ignoring the urge to just get the hell out of there. Two people burst through the trees, mere feet from my frozen form. One was a guy, the other was a girl. I caught a brief glimpse of the girls petrified, tear stained face before she was tackled to the ground.

I was too stunned to move. I knew I should have helped, or at least ran away to get help, but I was frozen in confusion, fear, and…. anticipation.

I was fascinated as I watched the two bodies struggle. Moreover, I was appalled that I was actually sitting here, watching someone trying to kill someone else, because I clearly recognized the intent to kill in the guy's body. I stared at what I could see of him; his bronze hair, his toned body, the way he moved with such grace. I felt completely safe, for some inexplicable reason, even though I knew I should be running away screaming.

I heard something snap, bringing me back to the present. The sound echoed into the now shockingly quiet forest; as if the creatures knew what had just happened. In sick fascination, I watched the bronze-haired man take out a knife and carve into the girl's skin. I wanted to see what he was doing, what he was writing. I wanted to know what he was thinking, his reason behind the kill.

And suddenly I felt very sick.

I was witnessing a murder, and yet I could not bring myself to care about the victim. Instead, all I could think about was the murderer, his innate charisma, the way my body called to him, his ridiculously messy bronze hair. I couldn't even see what he looked like, and he seemed so familiar. Nausea built in my throat, both from the murder I had just seen and from the way I was reacting to the killer. My heart pounded, my breathing was shallow, my skin tingled and I had to clench my knees together to keep myself from moaning. How could a man do this to me without even knowing I existed?

How sick was I?

Finally unable to take it, I stood, alerting the bronze-haired man to my presence. Our gazes locked and, even though shadows fell over his face, I could not escape the intensity of his eyes. I felt his scorching stare all the way down in my soul. I wanted to go to him. That want made me turn the other way and run.

I heard him pursuing me and tried not to fall on my ass. I needed to get away from this, I had to. But it was pointless to run. He caught up to me quickly and suddenly there was a hand around my waist, hot breath at my ear, and a sharp knife at my throat.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" a soft, velvety voice whispered huskily in my ear. I shivered and found myself leaning into his touch. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that the forest is no place for little girls at night?"

"I'm not a little girl." I couldn't help but speak to him. I wanted to hear his voice again.

The hand at my waist moved upwards, sending shivers and heat in its wake. He continued until he was gently cupping my breast. I gasped at the sensation. I hadn't even been kissed before and now some murderer was getting to second base. Why was I letting this happen?

I arched into the touch anyway.

"It seems you aren't. My mistake," his husky voice murmured.

Then, he wasn't there anymore.

I stumbled forward and turned quickly, watching in shock as he walked calmly through the dense forest. I stood there, unsure of what to do. I was beyond the point of running. I had already made contact. He turned to look at me and I about fainted. His face was beautiful, if a guy could be such a thing. Piercing jade eyes twinkled in amusement back at me; a smirk lit his face, accentuating his delicious jaw line. I finally knew why he seemed so familiar.

It was Edward Cullen, resident bad boy of Forks High School.

"You going to help me or what?" he asked, amusement evident in his voice.

Unable to stop myself, I nodded once and followed him.