Prologue

15 March 2006

When I recognise the city I've arrived in, I freeze. Seattle. Two thoughts immediately rise up: I am closer to her than I've let myself get since I vowed to leave her be—dangerously close—and so is Victoria. The first thought I suppress as best I can; the second fills me with dread.

How long ago did Victoria arrive in Seattle? Is she still here? Why did she come here? It scares me that I had almost hopped on a plane and flown to South America, while the redhead's actual destination lay within 140 miles of Bella. And that raises the most terrifying question of all: did Victoria deliberately conceal her tracks?

I am tracking her for her part in James's almost-success, but what if she has it in her head to finish his last hunt? The thought seems ridiculous—surely Alice would have seen her intentions if she had vengeance on her mind. But if Alice had seen Victoria in Seattle, she would've called me. I think about calling her now, but I know she is already monitoring Victoria, and I fear the news she might have for me if I ask her to look for Bella.

What if all my pain, all Bella's suffering, has been for nothing? In trying to protect her from my world, I've left her defenceless. Have I relied too heavily on Alice's visions and my mind-reading (and my tracking ability, which is apparently next to non-existent)? In my weakness, I stripped Bella of all protection, and now I've let my pain affect my judgement, and my concentration—and Bella could be dead because of it.

I make myself think the word, but I can't picture it yet. Even so, it is too easy to remember the injuries James inflicted. The sound of Bella's pained screams fills my head.

I am running before I even make the decision.

. . . . .

. . . . .

Chapter 1: Traitor

It's risky, but I tell myself that I can enter Forks and still keep my promise. I will sweep the outskirts first, and if I don't find signs of any vampire passing through, I'll stay there and guard the town—without going further in.

Fifty miles out, I'm still trying to convince myself that I can keep to this plan. The point becomes moot when I cross Laurent's scent. His recent presence sends me into a panic. If I were human, I'd be hyperventilating. He has no reason to return Forks. As far as I know, he went to Alaska to visit the Denali clan, and then took a fancy to Irina (and she to him).

I race along the patchy trail, my fears growing as the path turns inexorably towards our meadow. My precious memory of the fateful day Bella and I spent there in the sun only increases my nerves: I almost killed her there myself. The way fate had gone after her defied all reason—and now it seems that, although I have relinquished her, that dark fate is still hot on her trail.

Laurent was here over a week ago. If he came back to Forks for Bella, I am too late. The fact that I must rely on Laurent's restraint brings me no comfort. I can only hope that the wolf stench covering every inch of this place means that they have done their duty and destroyed him. Is it too much to hope that they intercepted him before he got anywhere near Bella?

But then it is as though my worst fears are coming to life right in front of me. Though Bella has no reason to be here since I left—least of all the trek—I catch her glorious scent the moment I enter the meadow, while I am still following Laurent's path.

She was here when Laurent was.

I run to the spot where her scent is strongest—on the other side of the clearing, barely past the edge of thick ferns—and then freeze. I take a deep breath, trying to figure out what she'd been doing. I think Laurent stopped here, too. Maybe they'd talked. Had he honoured Irina's lifestyle, or had the exquisite temptation of Bella's blood trumped any good intentions he may have had? There is no scent of blood, but that doesn't mean anything; even discounting the rain, Laurent is old enough to feed cleanly. The thought momentarily paralyses me. I find myself caught in the memory of drinking Bella's blood to draw out James's venom and imagining Laurent doing the same thing—except Laurent wouldn't stop.

I know I am more sensitive to Bella's scent than anyone else's, so it's possible her scent is older than I estimate. As I start running again, I cling to the faint hope that the wolves and Laurent weren't there when Bella was. Or, miracle of miracles, that the wolves had chased him away from her.

Even as I run faster and faster, propelling myself through the achingly familiar forest, my only thought of finding Bella, I try to plan ahead—without actually thinking about seeing her again, or not. Reason hasn't fully deserted me, though, so I map out the quickest, shortest pathway to the Swan residence that won't risk me being seen.

When I arrive, Bella's truck isn't parked outside. I try to tell myself there's nothing odd in that. She could be at school for all the attention I've been paying to what day it is. I let myself in through her window, feeling foolishly happy that she hasn't locked it.

The happiness vanishes the moment I get inside. Her bedroom is different. Her scent is strong, but her presence feels less potent. I try to tell myself that I'm imagining it, but my fears haven't left me. I can still smell wolf, too, though I can't be sure that I didn't carry it in with me; I have been running through it for what feels like hours.

And then I smell the faintest scent of blood coming from the closet. Inside a black garbage bag, I find the stereo that Emmett had given her for her birthday. Pieces of crusted blood fall away in my fingers, and I picture Bella clawing it from the dashboard until her fingers bled.

Guilt swamps me. In my darkest moments, I have dreamed of visiting her bedroom, waiting for her there, begging her to forgive me, to let me back in her life—but I never imagined this. It is as though I am holding her pain in my hands, and it is pain I knowingly caused her. I had betrayed her from the moment I sought her attention, selfishly thinking I could be with her without drawing her into my dark world.

I realise I have sunk to my knees. I take a shuddery breath and try to pull myself together. Bloodied hands are one thing, but my fears for her life are more pressing.

I return the rejected stereo to the wardrobe and take the stairs down to the kitchen, hoping to find more signs of her there, but it seems even more neglected than her bedroom. The refrigerator is mostly empty, and it doesn't look as though anyone has cooked here for at least a week.

There is only one thing I can do, one viable lead I have left to follow—because there's no way I can face Charlie. Knowing I am violating the treaty doesn't stop me. If the wolves have been visiting her house, perhaps they know about Victoria—and if they know that, then Bella must have survived to tell them. I run to La Push, praying that Bella is there with them almost as much as I wish that she is hundreds of miles away.

Maybe she went home to Phoenix. Maybe she only visited the meadow to say goodbye. I could ring Phil—surely I can persuade him to give out a bit of information about his step-daughter without revealing my identity.

But it's too late. My self-control is shattered. I am so distracted by my fears that I know I can't do anything until I know if she is safe. The only thing I can manage now is to run, which requires no thought at all, and to avoid being seen, which is almost as easy—until I arrive in La Push.

I can't afford to run into a wolf before I find her, and yet, if she is with them, how else can I find her? There is no clear trail now—the wolf scent is almost overpowering, saturating everything—so I slow to a jog as I try to figure out where to go. I can't exactly ask for directions. On the Reservation, I am even more conspicuous than usual, and I have no doubt that everyone here knows the stories about me and my family.

Then I remember La Push beach. It is overcast, but not drizzling yet—a nice day by Washington standards; maybe she is there. I try to picture her strolling along the sand or sitting on a driftwood log, serenely watching the waves. As I begin to run again, I will it to be true.

But she isn't there. In fact, no one is. I can smell the lingering scent of a dozen different people—wolves and human strangers—but right now, the beach is empty. From what I can see, it looks as though I am here by myself. And then the dread returns. What if my solitude now is symbolic? If Bella is dead, then I am truly alone in this world.

After that thought, I can't stay here. Though part of me hopes I might stumble across her scent further along the beach, I can't bring myself to wholly forsake the trees and stand alone on the bare sand; in any case, irrational fears aside, it would be risky to leave the cover of the forest.

There is only one other location I know of in La Push. I am halfway to Billy Black's house when I catch the unmistakeable, heavenly scent of Bella's truck. I redirect my course in an instant, following the truck's most recent journey from the cover of the surrounding forest.

Surely Bella is the only one who would drive that thing. Surely.

The red Chevy is parked outside a little house tucked away from the surrounding neighbourhood, though that is probably true for most houses here, on the outskirts of the small township.

I am still a good 40 yards from the truck when Bella's heady scent fills my nostrils. I breathe it in greedily. She is still alive. I almost laugh out loud at the immense relief.

I should turn around and leave, but I can't. I need to see her. And the wolves will catch my scent soon enough—I may as well make breaking the treaty worthwhile.

The door of the house is open. I hesitate there, afraid that Bella will be hurt if any wolf is too close to her when he catches sight of me. But a quick scan of the nearby minds allays that fear and provides a glorious view of her. And then I hear her voice. I take a step, and then I am striding through the house, listening to the wondrous sound of her heart.

She is with another girl; they are sitting on a little porch at the back of the house, watching two young wolves—in human form—roughhousing on the lawn. There is a third, older wolf, also in human form, teasing them from the sidelines.

So Bella has been spending her time with these unstable children! Even in the face of my overwhelming relief at seeing her alive, I am horrified at the danger she has been putting herself in—no, that I have forced her into. The scarred face of her companion proves it.

The oldest wolf notices me first. His eyes widen and his limbs begin to shake, but I don't care. Bella is all I see: she sees his distraction and turns. Her whole body reacts when she sees me, as though the shock is shaking her apart, too.

"Bella," I murmur—and then the three wolves are sprinting at me and I have to turn and flee.

They are her friends, so I can't incapacitate them, which means that as much as I wish I could stay and explain myself to her—to prostrate myself at her feet and beg her forgiveness—I have to run.

At first, their thoughts are almost wordless. I am a vampire. I am a threat to their people. And the fact that I penetrated their defences so completely horrifies them. The older wolf is choked up at the thought of Emily—the girl with Bella—being murdered by a vampire. That she might have had to suffer the worst of what being with him means without gaining the one benefit—protection from vampires—is too much for him to bear. I see his memories of the night he lost control of his temper and almost killed her himself. His pain is all too familiar.

Eventually, though, he begins to regain control of his thoughts, and that is when I realise the wolves can hear each other's thoughts. He helps refocus their minds, too—he is their alpha, their pack leader—and they begin to strategize.

I retrace the path I took to get here, but they want to cut me off at the beach—another wolf is racing there to intercept me—so I veer away, deciding I will lead them to the meadow if I can. Their reaction to my course change is more reasoned, and the alpha—Sam—sends the two wolves with him back to the house, in case I am not alone.

"I'm alone," I say. "I would never hurt them—I'm Edward Cullen."

The mind-reader, Sam thinks at once, using Jacob Black's memories to compare the glimpse he had of my face with Jacob's hated rival. I am a little surprised that he knows about my gift, but it doesn't bother me that Bella has told them.

"Yes. I'm sorry for trespassing on your land," I say. "I didn't violate the treaty lightly—I had to know she was safe."

You left her—why do you care?

I catch a flicker of memory—Bella curled into a ball on the forest floor—but I can't let it distract me. I won't get another chance to explain myself. "I love her. I left for her, because my world isn't safe—she was in constant danger, and I couldn't keep risking her life just because I wanted to be with her."

My words intrigue him, but he isn't remotely moved. The wolves don't believe that I can love—to them, I am a soulless monster.

Before I can attempt to convince them otherwise, Jacob Black joins his pack-brothers in wolf form. His reaction to their thoughts, to my presence, is immediate.

He is furious that I have dared to return after abandoning her—he thinks it will undo all his hard work over the past months. I watch his memories with growing horror, but even as distracting as Bella's suffering is, I cannot mistake his delight in the fact that I have broken the treaty. He can't wait to kill me. Because he is in love with Bella.

Part of me is appalled, and part of me is morbidly amused—trust Bella to go from one type of monster to another—but the jealous part of me far outweighs either of those. Because despite his comparatively limited self-control and a clear tendency towards maliciousness, I can't deny that he is better for her than I am in every respect.

As much as I want to kill him—my rival—I know I can't. So that means I will have to do what I can to convince Sam now, before Jacob reaches us and begins the attack.

"I didn't want to leave her—it destroyed me—but I had to," I say. "The only other option was to change her, and I couldn't do that. I couldn't kill her."

They all agree on that. We are nearing the meadow now, so I decide to explain why I came here today. "I was tracking Victoria—even though I never thought she'd come back for Bella—" the contradiction in their thoughts makes my throat close up for a moment—"but I wasn't very good at it. When I tracked her to Seattle, it was too close. I had to check on Forks. And then I ran into the scent of a vampire who was an associate of hers."

Laurent, Sam thinks, remembering Jacob's memory of Bella's reaction to the news that the wolves had killed him. I cringe at her fear. I am ashamed that I left her to face this danger alone. And then Sam remembers seeing Bella and Laurent in the meadow; Bella's manner had made them wonder if he was an associate of ours, but Jacob hadn't wanted to wait for him to break the treaty.

"Thank you," I find myself blurting out, horrified that Bella might have become a vampire that day, even with the wolves' intervention. There is no way I can harm Jacob Black now. "Thank you for protecting her," I say, talking to all the wolves, but to him in particular.

We didn't do it for you, Jacob retorts, while Sam mulls over the seemingly genuine pain in my voice. He begins to consider offering me the chance to surrender.

Jacob doesn't like where this is headed. He focuses his thoughts on Bella, reminding them of the pain I caused her when I left—and tormenting me with these visions of Bella that look nothing like my memories of her. Even after all these months, she still hasn't recovered. She still hates music and romance of any kind. She still freezes up at even the vaguest mention of me, hugging her arms to her chest as though she is falling apart inside.

Though I have never stumbled before, I trip over something in my path—as likely to be my own foot as a tree root, for all the attention I am paying. My momentum throws me end over end a few times before I slam into a tree, which snaps, unable to withstand the force.

I tumble twice more and then land in a heap at the base of a neighbouring tree. I try to regain my feet, but I still can't focus on them. Jacob's thoughts are the only things that seem real. I give in to the guilt and pull myself into a ball, beyond caring that the wolves have almost caught up. I deserve to suffer for what I've done to her.

But Sam tells the wolf at his side to stop, so instead of ripping me into pieces, the two of them pace around me, growling softly. Jared and Embry are already back at the house with Emily and Bella.

I start—how had I missed their thoughts? I focus on them and see that Jacob is right again: Bella isn't just anxious, she is overwrought, her wide eyes full of fear and fixed on the two wolves. Her hands are clenched into fists—so hard that I'm surprised her nails aren't cutting into her skin.

Edward, Sam thinks, and I reluctantly refocus on him. Will you surrender to us?

I nod. "Will you allow me to apologise to Bella?"

You're never going near her again!, Jacob cries. He is half a minute away. He can't wait to sink his teeth through my neck. He imagines wrenching my head from my shoulders. I close my eyes and lean my head back on the tree, giving him an easier target.

But as much as I agree with him that I deserve it, I can't surrender completely. I open my eyes; Sam is confused by my apparent willingness to let Jacob kill me. "I am hers," I say. "If she doesn't want me, you can do what you like with me, but—"

Jacob's loud protest interrupts me. He is seconds away now. We can't let her decide—of course she'll want him!

"Then you can't kill me," I tell him.

He snarls, and I can hear it in his thoughts and through my ears. He knows killing me will hurt her. He knows she'll never forgive him—though she had almost seemed prepared to forgive him when she'd thought he was a murderer of innocent humans—but it doesn't change his mind.

"I won't leave her again," I vow. "As long as she wants me."

You left to save her from becoming a leech like you—that's still true.

"I will find a way—"

He launches himself across the fallen tree with a roar, and sinks his teeth into my arm. His maw is so wide, it encloses several inches on either side of my elbow. I grit my teeth against the pain, but when he wrenches my arm off, I can't help but cry out. He spits it out, but before he can snap at my head—before I have to duck—Sam stops him with a simple command. Jacob resents the order, but a tiny part of him—the part that doesn't want to hurt Bella despite the fact that I am his rival and mortal enemy—is glad to be stopped.

Then the black alpha wolf turns to me. Deliberately, he remembers the night I left Bella. Despite my careful planning, she had got lost in the woods. Sam had been the one to find her, lying on the wet ground, saturated, her eyes dull and distant, seeing nothing, not even reacting to the people shouting her name nearby. I watch her stare at him uncomprehendingly as he tries to engage her, though the mention of Charlie gets more of a reaction. She lets him pick her up without the slightest twitch, as though she couldn't care less about being manhandled by a stranger. Her body is stiff and frozen; she must be hypothermic because she isn't even shivering—or maybe it's shock. After a few minutes, as Sam's body heat starts to warm her, she begins to mumble something. Her voice is so quiet, even his acute hearing struggles to pick it up at first. He's gone.

It is only as I drop my head into my hands, an unthinking manifestation of the absolute agony I am feeling, that I remember I only have one hand right now. The physical pain of the loss is still there, but it is nothing compared to the agony at what I put her through.

They all see that I had forgotten my injury—even Jacob—and in Sam's mind, this is proof that I do love her. If I am incapacitated by her pain to the point of forgetting my own, if I won't even defend myself in the face of certain death, then I must love her more than my own life.

"I do," I agree, answering his part-wordless thoughts. "I couldn't have left otherwise."

He thinks he understands now—that I could love her so much that I would choose to leave her, knowing she would be hurt, to save her from even worse hurt.

Will you return with us and submit to a hearing of the Council elders?, he asks me.

I nod, though the other wolves don't like the offer—it means taking a vampire back into their territory.

Bella is the only human to have survived being bitten by a vampire, Sam says, giving them a reason why I deserve a chance to explain myself and sue for pardon. Because he saved her.

I realise I haven't thought about it like that before—only that I couldn't let her die. Jacob isn't the only one remembering his memory of Bella's explanation.

"Edward saved me twice," she whispered. "He sucked the venom out—you know, like with a rattlesnake."

Then she shuddered, though it was nothing to Jacob's shuddering. I shuddered, too, imagining Jacob bursting into a wolf inside the car's small cab.

"Careful, Jake," she said gently, concerned but nowhere near as afraid as she should've been. "Easy. Calm down."

The others stop thinking about it themselves at this point, but Jacob doesn't.

"Tell me something else," he remembers asking her. "Give me something else to think about."

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know." He had his eyes closed, concentrating. "The extra stuff I guess. Did any of the other Cullens have… extra talents? Like the mind-reading?"

Bella hesitated, her eyes tightening for a moment, perhaps debating whether or not to give him the information he'd been wanting from her ever since she'd discovered what he was. But then she answered, the words spilling out in a rush, as though she'd suddenly realised how much in need of a distraction he was. "Jasper could… sort of control the emotions of the people around him. Not in a bad way, just to calm someone down, that kind of thing. It would probably help Paul a lot," she added, obviously trying to joke. "And then Alice could see things that were going to happen. The future, you know, but not absolutely. The things she saw would change when someone changed the path they were on…"

And then she began to gasp for air, as though she wasn't getting enough oxygen, and her arms curled around her chest as though she thought she was going to break apart. Though Jacob thought it was simply an extreme version of her usual reaction to thinking about me, I knew all too well what had upset her in this case: of the two futures Alice had seen for her, it would have seemed as though the one she wanted had been taken from her forever.

I see that future now as if it's inevitable—Bella will get what she wants, even if what she wants is to condemn herself to this frozen life. I wince at that. I have failed her more times than I can count. No, I cannot give up yet.

She gave up your secrets, Jacob taunts, recalling my attention.

"I don't care," I reply, giving him the short answer.

Let's go, Sam says, thinking about tying my arms—or arm—around my body and then jogging back to the Reservation.

For Bella's sake, I hope they will let her see me before the council makes its decision—and I hope that seeing me will ease her anxiety. "I can reattach my arm," I say. "If you don't bind me, I can put it back while we're moving."

The wolves aren't happy about me being unrestrained, especially when we're back in La Push, and the idea that I can simply stick my arm back on disgusts them, so I agree to being bound. Slowly, so as not to agitate them further, I retrieve my arm. The wolves watch in morbid fascination as I spit on both stumps and then push them together. After a few seconds, the pain is replaced by an intense prickling sensation, and I let go. The distorted pieces of my granite flesh expand as though reinflating, until the only sign that I lost my arm a few minutes ago is a white line marking the fresh join.

Jacob's teeth partly severed my forearm as well, so I spit into the jagged section and press the two parts together to speed up the healing process. The painful prickling sensation is stronger this time, perhaps because I am now feeling both sides of the wound. When the sensation eases and my flesh looks normal—though this scar includes three obvious teeth marks—I wiggle my fingers, relieved that they feel like a part of me again. The wolves growl softly, uneasy.

To hide the torn sleeve, I tear both sleeves off at the shoulder; I am confident Bella's human eyes aren't strong enough to see either scar, so I don't expect to have to explain them to her.

In the moment before Sam phases in order to bind me—for want of another alternative, he is planning to use my shirtsleeves—Jacob comes up with an idea.

Blindfold him, too, he says.

This surprises the others—they don't know how my mind-reading works, so they aren't sure if I will be able to run blindfolded, but Jacob's real motivation is what really shocks them. Even if I can see just as well through their eyes (which he doubts), he wants to deny me the chance to see Bella with my own eyes, hoping it hurts. It most definitely does. I want to argue, even to lie and say that I can't run blindfolded, but the idea is comforting for the others—though it is just another token binding, it is a clear sign of my cooperation—so I take a steadying breath and shut my eyes.

As Sam phases into his human form, I absently monitor his thoughts. Sometime in the future, I might spend some time considering their interesting condition, but right now I can only focus on Bella. I hold out the sleeves, and Sam takes them out of my hands, careful to avoid touching me. I shift my arms behind my back and then turn slowly, exposing my back to him.

The sympathetic bent to his thoughts catches me off guard. He wraps the longer sleeve around my head, securing it tightly, before winding the other sleeve around my wrists. He doesn't avoid touching me now, and I am momentarily distracted by the intense heat of his skin. He ties a simple knot, then winds the fabric around a second time, before pulling it tight so he can knot it more firmly this time.

It doesn't occur to him that it is tight enough to cause me pain, and I don't bother to mention it. Even if I did care, it is just wasting time.

Sam phases back and shares the plan he has formed. After assigning my guard to their positions around me (he places Jacob in front, knowing the boy will not be able to stop himself from snapping at me if I am in range of his teeth), he tells Jared to phase back so he can call the council to a meeting and explain the situation to Emily and Bella. And then we start walking.

After a minute, Sam sets a faster pace, until we are making reasonably good speed through the forest. It is easier to let Jacob's thoughts flow through my mind without being crippled by them as I focus on Jared nodding to the girls and then trotting out of the room to phase. I'm glad of Embry's continued presence, which means I don't lose my connection to Bella—seeing her through their thoughts is like oxygen to a drowning man. I register Sam's matching relief; he cares deeply about his pack, but even more about Emily. The way he loves her reminds me of the way I love Bella. His love for her had changed him irrevocably, through a curious mechanism the wolves term "imprinting"—after his supernatural side had been awakened, something inside him recognised her as his soulmate, and acted accordingly.

The intensity of the love he feels for her matches the intensity of my love for Bella—relatively speaking—but where I had had a choice, of sorts, he had been a slave to his genes. The wolves' thoughts make it clear that this even more mysterious aspect of being a wolf causes tension among them. Even Sam still struggles with the enforced betrayal of his previous love, but Paul and Jacob hate the idea of their right to choose their partner being taken away from them. For Jacob, it is especially hateful, because he has chosen his partner—Bella—but his genes stubbornly refuse to agree.

His thoughts are torture—especially as he flips from one memory of Bella to the next, showing me her pain from every angle, and then, purposely, showing me the gradual change he has managed to effect in her: the occasional genuine smile, the flash of life in her eyes. I hate him for loving Bella, but at the same time, I owe him for keeping her safe when I didn't. And for easing her heartache.

The other wolves quickly grow weary of his vindictive thoughts. They shift from trying to ignore him to actively telling him to shut up. He is somewhat subdued, but isn't properly distracted until the others begin to speculate about Victoria. I gasp at their memories of chasing her away from Forks night after night. She has been trying to get to Bella for over a week—if the wolves hadn't stopped her, Bella would have been killed days ago.

"Thank you," I repeat, knowing it is meaningless to them, but feeling the need to say it anyway.

On the approach to the Quileute border, our pace becomes frustratingly laboured as the wolves struggle with their need to feel in control at all times—until Jared is finished calling the council members. Then we all focus on Embry's thoughts, even Jacob, as Jared sits down to tell Bella and Emily what's happening.

"They're on their way back now," he tells them. "Cullen surrendered—Sam asked me to call a council meeting."

"Was there a fight?" Bella asks, her voice a little more shrill than usual, reflecting her anxiousness. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No," he replies slowly; she is too perceptive not to pick up on his hesitation.

"What happened?" she demands.

"Jake—" he says, then pauses, and I hope he has thought better of his honesty.

But, of course, Bella doesn't need any more information. "Jake attacked Edward?" she cries, horrified. I am almost satisfied by the pang of guilt Jacob feels at having upset her, but it passes too quickly, and then he is back to blaming me for warping her sense of right and wrong.

"He didn't do any damage," Jared replies, part defensive, part revolted; I can't hear his thoughts at the moment, so I don't know whether he thinks he's telling the truth. "Cullen's fine."

She eyes him closely for a moment, then takes a deep breath. "Did he… say… why he… came here?"

The way she stumbles over the question makes me feel like ripping my arm off again and thrusting it through my chest. I have caused her more pain by leaving than I ever imagined possible. It is clear to me now: I made the grievous mistake of giving her feelings no more weight than ordinary human emotions, even though I know there is nothing ordinary about her. She has suffered just as much as I have.

"Some," Jared tells her; he has obviously learned from his previous slip. "Maybe it's best if we wait for them to get back."

Bella looks ready to argue, but Emily squeezes her shoulder. "They'll be here soon, Bella," she says. "It'll all work out."

Perhaps the scarring on the girl's face adds weight to her words—she is clearly no stranger to suffering—for Bella closes her mouth and takes a slow breath.

Jared nods, and then lopes out of the room so he can change back into his wolf form. I had expected him to wait until we arrive, but when he changes back, I hear that he doesn't want the pressure of being spokesman.

The first councilmembers arrive a minute later—Billy Black and Harry Clearwater, accompanied by his wife Sue—and I wonder where they were when Jared called. I am curious to know how they manage the duality of their lives. Like me, they straddle two worlds—the mundane human world and the thrilling supernatural world—but then I realise that their situation better matches Bella's than mine. They are humans immersed in the supernatural. Do they wish that the latent magic inside them had been triggered, or are they relieved not to have to cope with the consequences of shape-shifting?

It is a mark of Billy Black's nobility and strength that it takes me a moment to realise he has an additional consideration; from the little I know if him and his inner strength, I have no doubt he would choose to struggle with controlling the wolf over being caged by a wheelchair.

Billy accepts a partial hug and kiss on the cheek from Emily, then nods to Bella. His friend does the same, but with a sterner expression. It seems that he blames Bella for my trespass, and I feel as guilty for drawing her into my offence as I feel angry at his unkindness towards her. Especially when she tries to smile at him and I can see the tightness in her face—of course she is aware of his disapproval, and of course she feels guilty.

Sue makes up for a little of his surliness by giving Bella a kind smile, and I wonder what she thinks of her. I can hear from the wolves' thoughts that, with one notable exception, they think of Bella as "the vampire girl". It makes my abandonment even harder, knowing that she has had to endure such a label whilst thinking that the only vampire who has not forsaken her is hell-bent on killing her.

The third councilman arrives five long minutes later; it is a relief that we are not far away now, because he is gruff and open about his frustration with Bella, as if she is responsible for all the vampire activity they have been caught up in. I can only hope he will lay the blame where it belongs—at my feet—when I arrive. He tells the wolves to prepare a cage for me—because I am on trial for breaching the treaty, and no vampire has ever been granted free agency within their lands—so they hunt around for something, the whole pack thinking with them.

They choose a large wooden crate with no lid, and I am almost amused by its resemblance to the 'pen' defendants are made to stand in at court. Jared phases again and between the wolf and him, they carry it inside. Emily and Sue complain about the dirt they bring in with it, and Bella helps the women lay a couple of sheets on the lounge floor before they set it down. She is blushing deeply, and I wonder if it's Jared's nakedness (even though he's on the other side of the crate) or thoughts of me making the blood rush to her cheeks.

I hope she is looking forward to seeing me—I am too weak to hope otherwise. And then I realise that the wolves all expect her to be happy about my return. It is why Jacob is so desperate to show me all the pain I have caused, because he thinks Bella will forgive me too quickly—that she will forgive me before I even open my mouth.

That seems too good to be true, and I know I don't deserve such easy absolution. But however she decides to treat me, with immediate acceptance or more gradual clemency, I am determined to do all in my power to make amends for the pain I have caused her.