"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're civilized like the rest of us. You never know when they might be pressed hard enough to snap." Jacob deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into his tone.
"What do you mean, 'civilized'?"
"They claim that they can behave like normal people, that they wouldn't harm anyone, but if you look in their eyes, you can tell that nothing is there."
"How does this fit in with the Cullens? And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"
He smiled darkly.
"Hollow people." He replied in a chilling voice. "Emotionally dead. Your people might call them sociopaths."
I tried to keep my voice casual, but inside I was shaking. "Like, they kill people?"
Jacob put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. He must have heard it in my voice. "No. I mean, I don't know. They keep to themselves and they never talk to anybody, but you can never tell what they're capable of. It's not that they ever commit any crimes, but there are times when you can tell that they have it in them."
I was confused. "Why are you warning me about them, then? They don't seem like any sort of threat."
"Let me give you an example." He replied, looking into the distance. "Edward Cullen once gave me a lift into town. I was going to the record store and he had other errands to run, but my dad said that we had to stay together. While we were in the bank, a masked gunman came in and fired a shot into the air. He was cursing and told everyone to get on the ground. Edward went up to the guy, hit him in the neck, grabbed his shotgun and blew off his head."
"Wow. Edward Cullen saved your life! He's a hero."
"That's what all the newspapers said. That's what everyone tells me to think. Nobody saw what actually happened." Jacob stopped and looked me in the eye. "Edward didn't flinch. Not when he saw the mask, or the gun, not even when the gun went off. He just walked up behind the guy and killed him. In fact, the only time his face even moved from that neutral expression was when he vaporized the gunman's head. He actually smiled, Bella." He sat down on a rock and rubbed his head, the muscles in his shoulder flexing and twitching as he did it.
"One time, when I was hunting with my uncles, I had to slash a wounded deer's throat. My hands were shaking that I dropped the knife twice, and I had nightmares for a month." Jacob looked up at me. This time he wasn't putting on an act; his goosebumps were real, just like the pained look on that beautiful face. I didn't know what to say. He continued.
"What kind of person can hear a gunshot without batting an eye? It's hard to kill a deer. I don't have it in me. Do you think you could kill a person? Edward has it in him."
I wanted to change the subject. "Is it normal... for the Cullens..."
He interrupted me. "Yes. That is their normal. Whenever a dog gets rabies, or a vicious bear wanders into the area, they are the first to volunteer to dispatch it. For cryin' out loud, Dr. Cullen's specialty is assisted suicide. They feel nothing. They are dead inside. Watching the gunman's blood pool on the marble bank floor was the only time I have ever seen Edward smile. So," he smiled, attempting a playful tone. "Now you know what me and my shrink talk about." He sounded worried. I was trying to avoid his gaze, looking only at the ocean.
I turned and smiled at him as normally as I could.
And then the sound of beach rocks clattering against each other warned us that someone was approaching.