A big thank you to everyone who's favorited, followed and/or reviewed this story thus far. I sort of have it all planned out and I hope that you all enjoy what I have in store.

Bella also takes a minor step in the direction of growing a backbone instead of being all whiney and depressed. Like I said, it's minor, like really, really, really minor, but for someone like Bella it's kinda a big step.

For those who have reviewed, my responses will be at the end of this chapter.

*More information, along with credits and disclaimers, can be found below.


Chapter 2: Cheater & Someone's a Baby Stealer

"Bella, why don't you take off," Mike suggested, his eyes focused off to the side, not really looking at her. She wondered how long that had been going on without her noticing.

It was a slow afternoon at Newton's. At the moment there were only two patrons in the store, dedicated backpackers from the sound of their conversation. Mike had spent the last hour going through the pros and cons of two brands of lightweight packs with them. But they'd taken a break from serious pricing to indulge in trying to one-up each other with their latest tales from the trail. Their distraction had given Mike a chance to escape.

"I don't mind staying," She said. She still hadn't been able to sink back into her protective shell of numbness, and everything seemed oddly close and loud today, like she'd taken cotton out of her ears. She tried to tune out the laughing hikers without success.

"I'm telling you," said the thickset man with the orange beard that didn't match his dark brown hair. "I've seen grizzlies pretty close up in Yellowstone, but they had nothing on this brute." His hair was matted, and his clothes looked like they'd been on his back for more than a few days. Fresh from the mountains.

"Not a chance. Black bears don't get that big. The grizzlies you saw were probably cubs." The second man was tall and lean, his face tanned and wind-whipped into an impressive leathery crust.

"Seriously, Bella, as soon as these two give up, I'm closing the place down," Mike murmured.

"If you want me to go..." She shrugged.

"On all fours it was taller than you," the bearded man insisted while I gathered my things together. "Big as a house and pitch-black. I'm going to report it to the ranger here. People ought to be warned—this wasn't up on the mountain, mind you—this was only a few miles from the trailhead."

Leather-face laughed and rolled his eyes. "Let me guess—you were on your way in? Hadn't eaten real food or slept off the ground in a week, right?"

"Hey, uh, Mike, right?" the bearded man called, looking toward them.

"See you Monday," Bella mumbled.

"Yes, sir," Mike replied, turning away.

"Say, have there been any warnings around here recently—about black bears?"

"No, sir. But it's always good to keep your distance and store your food correctly. Have you seen the new bear-safe canisters? They only weigh two pounds…."

The doors slid open to let her out into the rain. She hunched over inside her jacket as she dashed for her truck. The rain hammering against her hood sounded unusually loud, too, but soon the roar of the engine drowned out everything else.

Bella didn't want to go back to Charlie's empty house. Last night had been particularly brutal, and she had no desire to revisit the scene of the suffering. Even after the pain had subsided enough for her to sleep, it wasn't over. Like she'd told Jessica after the movie, there was never any doubt that she would have nightmares.

She always had nightmares now, every night. Not nightmares really, not in the plural, because it was always the same nightmare. You'd think she'd get bored after so many months, grow immune to it. But the dream never failed to horrify her, and only ended when she woke herself with screaming. Charlie didn't come in to see what was wrong anymore, to make sure there was no intruder strangling her or something like that—he was used to it now.

Bella's nightmare probably wouldn't even frighten someone else. Nothing jumped out and screamed, "Boo!" There were no zombies, no ghosts, no psychopaths. There was nothing, really. Only nothing. Just the endless maze of moss-covered trees, so quiet that the silence was an uncomfortable pressure against her eardrums. It was dark, like dusk on a cloudy day, with only enough light to see that there was nothing to see. She hurried through the gloom without a path, always searching, searching, searching, getting more frantic as the time stretched on, trying to move faster, though the speed made her clumsy….Then there would come the point in her dream—and she could feel it coming now, but could never seem to wake herself up before it hit—when she couldn't remember what it was that she was searching for. When she realized that there was nothing to search for, and nothing to find. That there never had been anything more than just this empty, dreary wood, and there never would be anything more for her….nothing but nothing….

That was usually about when the screaming started.

She wasn't paying attention to where she was driving—just wandering through empty, wet side roads as she avoided the ways that would take her home—because she didn't have anywhere to go.

She wished she could feel numb again, but she couldn't remember how she'd managed it before. The nightmare was nagging at her mind and making her think about things that would cause me pain. She didn't want to remember the forest. Even as she shuddered away from the images, she felt her eyes fill with tears and the aching begin around the edges of the hole in her chest. She took one hand from the steering wheel and wrapped it around her torso to hold it in one piece.

It will be as if I'd never existed. The words ran through her head, lacking the perfect clarity of her other hallucination last night. They were just words, soundless, like print on a page. Just words, but they ripped the hole wide open, and Bella stomped on the brake, knowing she should not drive while this incapacitated.

She curled over, pressing her face against the steering wheel and trying to breathe without lungs.

She wondered how long this could last. Maybe someday, years from now—if the pain would just decrease to the point where she could bear it—she would be able to look back on those few short months that would always be the best of her life. And, if it were possible that the pain would ever soften enough to allow her to do that, she was sure that she would feel grateful for as much time as he'd given her. More than she'd asked for, more than she'd deserved. Maybe someday she'd be able to see it that way.

But what if this hole never got any better? If the raw edges never healed? If the damage was permanent and irreversible?

Bella held herself tightly together. As if he'd never existed, she thought in despair. What a stupid and impossible promise to make! He could steal her pictures and reclaim his gifts, but that didn't put things back the way they'd been before she'd met him. The physical evidence was the most insignificant part of the equation. She was changed, her insides altered almost past the point of recognition. Even her outsides looked different her face sallow, white except for the purple circles the nightmares had left under her eyes. Her eyes were dark enough against her pallid skin that—if she were beautiful, and seen from a distance—she might even pass for a vampire now. But she was not beautiful, and she probably looked closer to a zombie.

As if he'd never existed? That was insanity. It was a promise that he could never keep, a promise that was broken as soon as he'd made it.

She thumped her head against the steering wheel, trying to distract herself from the sharper pain.

It made her feel silly for ever worrying about keeping her promise. Where was the logic in sticking to an agreement that had already been violated by the other party? Who cared if she was reckless and stupid? There was no reason to avoid recklessness, no reason why she shouldn't get to be stupid.

Bella laughed humorlessly to herself, still gasping for air. Reckless in Forks—now there was a hopeless proposition.

The dark humor distracted her, and the distraction eased the pain. Her breath came easier, and she was able to lean back against the seat. Though it was cold today, her forehead was damp with sweat.

She concentrated on her hopeless proposition to keep from sliding back into the excruciating memories. To be reckless in Forks would take a lot of creativity—maybe more than she had. But she wished she could find some way….she might feel better if she weren't holding fast, all alone, to a broken pact. If she were an oath-breaker, too. But how could she cheat on her side of the deal, here in this harmless little town? Of course, Forks hadn't always been so harmless, but now it was exactly what it had always appeared to be. It was dull, it was safe.

She stared out the windshield for a long moment, her thoughts moving sluggishly—she couldn't seem to make those thoughts go anywhere. She cut the engine, which was groaning in a pitiful way after idling for so long, and stepped out into the drizzle.

The cold rain dripped through her hair and then trickled across her cheeks like freshwater tears. It helped to clear her head. She blinked the water from her eyes, staring blankly across the road.

After a minute of staring, she recognized where she was. She'd parked in the middle of the north lane of Russell Avenue. She was standing in front of the Cheneys' house—her truck was blocking their driveway—and across the road lived the Markses. She knew she needed to move her truck, and that she ought to go home. It was wrong to wander the way she had, distracted and impaired, a menace on the roads of Forks. Besides, someone would notice her soon enough, and report her to Charlie.

As she took a deep breath in preparation to move, a sign in the Markses' yard caught her eye—it was just a big piece of cardboard leaning against their mailbox post, with black letters scrawled in caps across it.

Sometimes, kismet happens.

Coincidence? Or was it meant to be? Bella didn't know, but it seemed kind of silly to think that it was somehow fated, that the dilapidated motorcycles rusting in the Markses' front yard beside the hand-printed FOR SALE, AS IS sign were serving some higher purpose by existing there, right where she needed them to be.

So maybe it wasn't kismet. Maybe there were just all kinds of ways to be reckless, and she only now had her eyes open to them.

Reckless and stupid. Those were Charlie's two very favorite words to apply to motorcycles.

Charlie's job didn't get a lot of action compared to cops in bigger towns, but he did get called in on traffic accidents. With the long, wet stretches of freeway twisting and turning through the forest, blind corner after blind corner, there was no shortage of that kind of action. But even with all the huge log-haulers barreling around the turns, mostly people walked away. The exceptions to that rule were often on motorcycles, and Charlie had seen one too many victims, almost always kids, smeared on the highway. He'd made Bella promise before she was ten that she would never accept a ride on a motorcycle. Even at that age, she didn't have to think twice before promising. Who would want to ride a motorcycle here? It would be like taking a sixty-mile-per-hour bath.

So many promises she kept….

It clicked together for her then. She wanted to be stupid and reckless, and she wanted to break promises. Why stop at one?

That's as far as she thought it through. She sloshed through the rain to the Markses' front door and rang the bell.

One of the Marks boys opened the door, the younger one, the freshman. She couldn't remember his name. His sandy hair only came up to her shoulder.

He had no trouble remembering her name. "Bella Swan?" he asked in surprise.

"How much do you want for the bike?" She panted, jerking her thumb over her shoulder toward the sales display.

"Are you serious?" he demanded.

"Of course I am."

"They don't work."

She sighed impatiently—this was something she'd already inferred from the sign. "How much?"

"If you really want one, just take it. My mom made my dad move them down to the road so they'd get picked up with the garbage."

Bella glanced at the bikes again and saw that they were resting on a pile of yard clippings and dead branches.

"Are you positive about that?"

"Sure, you want to ask her?"

It was probably better not to involve adults who might mention this to Charlie.

"No, I believe you."

"You want me to help you?" he offered. "They're not light."

"Okay, thanks. I only need one, though."

"Might as well take both," the boy said. "Maybe you could scavenge some parts."

He followed her out into the downpour and helped her load both of the heavy bikes into the back of her truck. He seemed eager to be rid of them, so she didn't argue.

"What are you going to do with them, anyway?" he asked. "They haven't worked in years."

"I kind of guessed that," Bella said, shrugging. Her spur-of-the-moment whim hadn't come with a plan intact. "Maybe I'll take them to Dowling's."

He snorted. "Dowling would charge more to fix them than they'd be worth running."

She couldn't argue with that. John Dowling had earned a reputation for his pricing; no one went to him except in an emergency. Most people preferred to make the drive up to Port Angeles, if their car was able. She'd been very lucky on that front—she'd been worried, when Charlie first gifted her her ancient truck, that she wouldn't be able to afford to keep it running. But she'd never had a single problem with it, other than the screaming-loud engine and the fifty-five-mile-per-hour maximum speed limit. Jacob Black had kept it in great shape when it had belonged to his father, Billy...

Inspiration hit like a bolt of lightning—not unreasonable, considering the storm. "You know what? That's okay. I know someone who builds cars."

"Oh. That's good." He smiled in relief.

He waved as she pulled away, still smiling. Friendly kid.

Bella drove quickly and purposefully now, in a hurry to get home before there was the slightest chance of Charlie appearing, even in the highly unlikely event that he might knock off early. She dashed through the house to the phone, keys still in hand.

"Chief Swan, please," she said when the deputy answered. "It's Bella."

"Oh, hey, Bella," Deputy Steve said affably. "I'll go get him."

She waited.

"What's wrong, Bella?" Charlie demanded as soon as he picked up the phone.

"Can't I call you at work without there being an emergency?"

He was quiet for a minute. "You never have before. Is there an emergency?"

"No. I just wanted directions to the Blacks' place—I'm not sure I can remember the way. I want to visit Jacob. I haven't seen him in months."

When Charlie spoke again, his voice was much happier. "That's a great idea, Bells. Do you have a pen?"

.

(The Great Hall at Union Station)

By lunchtime, the nearly empty hall was so quiet that Lauren could hear all four hundred and sixty twinkling inset ceiling lights. Her weekend had been nothing but rubbing elbows with her parents colleagues. The Mallorys had thrown a dashing catering event, and going overboard was what the couple was known for. The Great Hall at Union Station was an iconic landmark in the heart of Seattle's Pioneer Square. The ethereal beauty of the 11,000 square-foot ballroom was built in 1910 and was complemented by the twinkling lights overhead its majestic barrel-vaulted ceiling. The black and white tiled floors and champagne, gold and emerald color scheme made the regal venue a timeless setting and the perfect location for a classic and elegant event.

One of the caters, a young Native American girl who everyone called Kim, came to refill the glasses. "I heard that you had some unwanted guests last night." Her hands shook as she spoke, spilling a few drops of water on the table.

Mrs. Mallory sneered as she watched Kim dab the spot with the corner of her apron. "Oh, just leave it," she said impatiently. "It'll dry without leaving a stain."

"Sorry." Kim blushed, her copper colored skin barely showed it. She took a step back from the table. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm just so nervous. Everything is making me jump."

"We're all a little on edge," Mrs. Mallory said. Lauren rolled her eyes, knowing that her mother was pissed more than anything. "The nerve of those people. Ruining a perfectly good event like that. But now those people are gone and I've booked for five more guests to join us tonight. I was relieved when they didn't mention ghosts. Oh, and don't forget to be on your A–game tonight. We'll be the busiest yet."

Last night had certainly been eventful. While the banquet had been in full swing, and all the snobs were hanging off of each other's words, two of the guests had ran out of the venue screaming about ghost being in the bathroom. And while everyone had laughed, Lauren's parents had been mortified that someone had tried to play a trick on them during an important event. It was safe to say that it had left her mother in a sour mood.

"I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eyes," Kim said lowly. "But when I look in their direction, they're gone."

"It's just your mind playing tricks on you," Mrs. Mallory said.

Kim twisted her apron. Her face was still flushed. "My mother called this morning when she heard what happened. She thinks I should quit."

Mrs. Mallory stared at her. "Kimberly, did not hear anything that I said? Five hundred people will be here in less than a couple hours. You can't quit. I need the staff to have every worker on hand."

"I didn't say I was quitting," Kim said. "I just said my mother thinks that I should."

"And what do you think?" Mrs. Mallory demanded to know. "You're seventeen years old. You must have your own opinion."

"Of course I do, ma'am." Kim's eyes got wide and she bit her bottom lip. Lauren felt for the girl. She knew exactly how it felt to be on the end of her mother's terrible attitude. She also knew that Kim's mother was deeply involved with Council on the La Push reservation, and Lauren knew that the Elders had warned their children about spirits.

"Well?" Mrs. Mallory asked, she raised a finally waxed and drawn on eyebrow. "Will you stay and help me, or are you quitting?"

Kim looked down at the table. "I'll stay," she said. "...as long as the ghosts don't come back."

If Lauren hadn't felt so sorry for her, she would have laughed at what she had just said.

"I don't expect anymore manifestations," Mrs. Mallory said with a roll of her eyes. "Not with that pedophile and his child bride out of the picture."

"Do you really think they faked it?" Kim asked.

"Hahn was always one for the theatrics, and his wife was no better."

Lauren sat quietly, poking at her salad this way and that in an effort to make it look like she was eating some it. She didn't bother to say anything. She could've been quiet all day and her mother wouldn't have been concerned.

"I hope you're right, Mrs. Mallory." Kim's eyes darted to the corners of the room, as if she saw something moving in the shadows.

"Of course I am," Mrs. Mallory said as she took a long sip of her wine. "A man who where's his hair in a ponytail and drives around in a teenager's sportscar is not to be trusted. Neither is his nineteen year old wife who polishes her nails black, has her nose pierced and God only knows what else, and claims to be a cousin sometimes removed of the Queen of England." With that she left the hall, her stiletto heels clicking.

Kim sat down at the table. She looked tired. "If your mother didn't need me I would quit right now." She went to pour herself a glass of water, but it sloshed on the table.

"Clumsy," a high pitched voice whispered.

"What did you say?" Kim turned to Lauren.

"I didn't say anything."

"Clumsy, messy girl."

Kim jumped and whirled around to see who had spoken. Then her apron slid to the floor, the strings somehow were untied, and they could hear giggling throughout the room. Cloths began to slide off of the table, as did some of the forks, spoons and knives. The others rose into the air and napkins spun around like leaves on a windy day. The expensive China plates and decor were smashed into the walls. The condiments reputed, splattered and spilled over tables and the marbled floor.

Lauren and Kim crowded together, their flesh being pinched and their faces were being slapped. Something was even pulling their hair. They tried to see where the attacks were coming from, but that's when it dawned on them that invisible hands were assaulting them. That's when they screamed.

Things got even more strange when Mrs. Charlotte Hewes–Uley came barreling into the room while ringing a cat bell. "Leave, you devils, leave!" She screamed.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Lauren yelled. "Who are you talking to?!"

But Mrs. Charlotte just ignored her. Her eyes were focused on the swinging chandelier. "Leave us this minute in the name of God!"

Before the two girls could warn her, a pitcher of water rose behind the older woman's back and floated across at the room at warp speed and dumped itself on her head. The giggles changed into an uproar of laughter and spread quickly like a wildfire. With a few more pinches and slaps, something swept out of the room.

Kim ran to Mrs. Charlotte's side and started to dry her with the fallen tablecloths. "Are you alright?!"

Mrs. Charlotte didn't respond as she pushed Kim to the side. She looked around the room. She then turned to Lauren. "Good fetch Jonathan. Tell him that they've returned."

Lauren didn't even bother to ask what was going on. She did what she was told and ran out the room, only to bump into her mother who looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

"Oh, my, God," she cried. "What in the hell happened?"

"I want to go home," Kim wailed.

Not wanting to stick around for the scene that was about to unfold on her mother's behalf, Lauren dashed out of the room and began to search for Mr. Jonathan. She finally found him outside tending to the garden

"Mrs. Charlotte told me to come get you," Lauren shouted. "She said they've come back."

Needing no further explanation, Mr. Jonathan dropped the hoe and came running.

"They did all this," he mumbled to himself when he saw the disaster that was left behind. The chairs were overturned, linens on the floor, as were puddles of water and broken china; different colored condiments were everywhere and some of the curtains had been yanked off their hooks. Kim was sobbing quietly and Mrs. Charlotte was wringing water out of her hair. He turned to Lauren and added, "They're here because of you, you know. You've got something they want and this won't stop until you hand it over."

Lauren was too shocked to ask what he meant.

"You must talk to the Council," he said. "Before they come back."

"Who's they?" Lauren's mouth was dry.

Mr. Jonathan leaned forward, catching her eyes. "It's not your fault," he said.

"What?"

His eyes were as dark as wet bark and Lauren understood what he was trying to convey through a simple look. It's not your fault. That these things are flocking to you. You're just collateral damage to them.

She made a forlorn and helpless gesture. "But what do I do now? I can't change what I did…."

"No, but you can act now," Mr. Jonathan said seriously. "And soon. You have to act fast. Things will only get presumably worse."

"But why—"

"The answer is not simple. And it's not certain either. My people only know that whatever those things are, they were brought over by the white men….or something followed them. Either way, those creatures weren't always on this land."

Lauren's head was reeling. "What? I don't even understand what you're talking about."

"I can't really explain. Do you have time today to speak with the Council?"

Lauren shook her head. "I don't even know what you're saying! Something's after me, but you can't tell me? I'm not going anywhere without some answers."

"Don't you see?" Mr. Jonathan hissed. "I don't have all the answers, but the Council will."

As Lauren opened her mouth to protest once more, Mrs. Charlotte walked swiftly towards them. Her hair and outfit were still wet. She looked tired. She vanished from their line of vision.

"Let's follow her," Mr. Jonathan said.

Lauren didn't protest to that. She was willing to do anything just as long as she didn't have to stick around to hear her mother's yelling and Kim's soft sniffles. She and Mr. Jonathan walked across the lawn and found Mrs. Charlotte staring down at the perfectly cut hedge bushes that were dotted with pretty flowers. "You don't belong here," she said softly. "You ought to be in your own world. All of you."

As she spoke, the bushes rustled and something whispered in the wind.

"That poor girl," she muttered. "Pretty little thing and don't have a clue about what's to happen." She cocked her head to the side, listening. "She ain't stupid, just naïve. She ain't like the white people that you're use to."

She moved her head to the side again. She then looked in their direction. "Jonathan? Why are you hiding?"

Mr. Jonathan stepped through the gap in the hedges with Lauren at his heels. Mrs. Charlotte didn't look surprised to see her.

"Who were you talking to?" Lauren whispered.

"No one," Mrs. Charlotte said with a frown.

"You were talking to….whatever the hell attacked me." Lauren's voice shook. "It's still here. Isn't it? It's watching us."

Mrs. Charlotte just stared at her with a grim face.

"Tell me who they are," Lauren cried. "Tell me what they want! Tell them that I don't know what the fuck is going on! Tell them—"

"Not knowing isn't going to change anything," Mrs. Charlotte said, interrupting her. "It has to run its course now."

"Can't you just tell me what's going on?"

"I can't," Mrs. Charlotte said. "But maybe they will."

For a moment, Lauren was half tempted to grab the older woman by her shoulders and shake her, and beg for answers, but she stayed where she was. She bowed her head and stared at the stilled bushes.

"Come now." Mrs. Charlotte reached for her hand. "Let's get back inside."

Lauren watched as a butterfly landed on the bush. It disappeared in the greenness. "I've never believed in anything before," she said softly.

"Me either," Mrs. Charlotte said just as gently.

"Are you coming back inside?" Mr. Jonathan asked.

Lauren shook her head. She didn't want to see her mother in all of her bitchy gloriousness, and she didn't want Kim to be clinging to her. She also didn't have the energy to move at the moment. She was emotionally tired at that point.

Seeing that she wanted to be left alone, the couple walked passed Lauren and strolled off towards the hall again.

Once their shadows had disappeared, a pebble hit her cheek. And then another, and then another. The air was then full of pebbles, striking Lauren but too small to do anything but leave behind a sting. Then the damned giggling started. This time, whispers accompanied.

Lauren ran towards the hall, pebbles flying after her, but before she could reach the door, an invisible force pushed her backwards. Lauren whipped her head around to see how had put their hands on her, but she found not a single soul. That didn't change the fact that she knew someone, or better yet something, was there.

"Who are you?" She whispered.

"Who are you?" It whispered back, sounding incrediblely childlike.

"What do you want?"

"What do you want?"

"Stop copying me!"

"Stop copying me!" It giggled as it mimicked Lauren's shaky voice. "Stop, stop, stop!"

Giggles erupted around her. An invisible hand pulled her hair so hard she felt some break off at the roots. She then cried out in pain and held her cheek. She could feel a red mark forming.

"You better be scared," someone whispered. "She's a bad one, a lovely bad one, a bad, bad, bad one."

Lauren made a run for it. She couldn't escape the giggling, or the pinches, slaps and yanks at her hair. It was like she was being chased by a swarm of bees that she couldn't see.

Somewhere between the lobby and the hall was when Lauren's attackers had given up. But she kept running until she reached the bathrooms. She stumbled through the doors and crashed into someone, hard. She stared to apologize, rambling something incoherent, when she finally looked up and saw the brightest blue eyes.

The angel flashed her a smile.

"Hi, Lauren," she said. She gave a her a wicked, laughing once over. "Remember our last chat? When I said that I would call upon you whenever it was fit? Well, guess what, pet—you're needed."

.

(The Black's Residence)

The directions Charlie gave Bella were very simple. She assured him that she would be back for dinner, though he tried to tell her not to hurry. He wanted to join her in La Push, and she wasn't having that.

So it was with a deadline that she drove too quickly through the storm-darkened streets out of town. She hoped she could get Jacob alone. Billy would probably tell on her if he knew what she was up to.

While she drove, she worried a little bit about Billy's reaction to seeing her. He would be too pleased. In Billy's mind, no doubt, this had all worked out better than he had dared to hope. His pleasure and relief would only remind her of the one she couldn't bear to be reminded of. Not again today, she pleaded silently. She was spent.

The Blacks' house was vaguely familiar, a small wooden place with narrow windows, the dull red paint making it resemble a tiny barn. Jacob's head peered out of the window before she could even get out of the truck. No doubt the familiar roar of the engine had tipped him off to her approach. Jacob had been very grateful when Charlie bought Billy's truck for her, saving Jacob from having to drive it when he came of age. Bella liked her truck very much, but Jacob seemed to consider the speed restrictions a shortcoming.

He met her halfway to the house.

"Bella!" His excited grin stretched wide across his face, the bright teeth standing in vivid contrast to the deep russet color of his skin. She'd never seen his hair out of its usual ponytail before. It fell like black satin curtains on either side of his broad face.

Jacob had grown into some of his potential in the last eight months. He'd passed that point where the soft muscles of childhood hardened into the solid, lanky build of a teenager; the tendons and veins had become prominent under the red-brown skin of his arms, his hands. His face was still sweet like I remembered it, though it had hardened, too—the planes of his cheekbones sharper, his jaw squared off, all childish roundness gone.

"Hey, Jacob!" Bella felt an unfamiliar surge of enthusiasm at his smile. She realized that she was pleased to see him. This knowledge surprised her.

She smiled back, and something clicked silently into place, like two corresponding puzzle pieces. She'd forgotten how much she really liked Jacob Black.

He stopped a few feet away from her, and she stared up at him in surprise, leaning her head back though the rain pelted her face.

"You grew again!" Bella accused in amazement.

He laughed, his smile widening impossibly. "Six five," he announced with self-satisfaction. His voice was deeper, but it had the husky tone she remembered.

"Is it ever going to stop?" She shook her head in disbelief. "You're huge."

"Still a beanpole, though." He grimaced. "Come inside! You're getting all wet."

He led the way, twisting his hair in his big hands as he walked. He pulled a rubber band from his hip pocket and wound it around the bundle.

"Hey, Dad," he called as he ducked to get through the front door. "Look who stopped by."

Billy was in the tiny square living room, a book in his hands. He set the book in his lap and wheeled
himself forward when he saw her.

"Well, what do you know! It's good to see you, Bella."

They shook hands. Hers was lost in his wide grasp.

"What brings you out here? Everything okay with Charlie?"

"Yes, absolutely. I just wanted to see Jacob—I haven't seen him in forever."

Jacob's eyes brightened at her words. He was smiling so big it looked like it would hurt his cheeks.

"Can you stay for dinner?" Billy was eager, too.

"No, I've got to feed Charlie, you know."

"I'll call him now," Billy suggested. "He's always invited."

Bella laughed to hide her discomfort. "It's not like you'll never see me again. I promise I'll be back again soon—so much you'll get sick of me." After all, if Jacob could fix the bike, someone had to teach her how to ride it.

Billy chuckled in response. "Okay, maybe next time."

"So, Bella, what do you want to do?" Jacob asked.

"Whatever. What were you doing before I interrupted?" She was strangely comfortable here. It was familiar, but only distantly. There were no painful reminders of the recent past.

Jacob hesitated. "I was just heading out to work on my car, but we can do something else…."

"No, that's perfect!" She interrupted. "I'd love to see your car."

"Okay," he said, not convinced. "It's out back, in the garage."

Even better, Bella thought to herself. She waved at Billy. "See you later."

A thick stand of trees and shrubbery concealed his garage from the house. The garage was no more than a couple of big preformed sheds that had been bolted together with their interior walls knocked out. Under this shelter, raised on cinder blocks, was what looked to me like a completed automobile. Bella recognized the symbol on the grille, at least.

"What kind of Volkswagen is that?" She asked.

"It's an old Rabbit—1986, a classic."

"How's it going?"

"Almost finished," he said cheerfully. And then his voice dropped into a lower key. "My dad made good on his promise last spring."

"Ah," she said.

He seemed to understand her reluctance to open the subject. She tried not to remember last May at the prom. Jacob had been bribed by his father with money and car parts to deliver a message there. Billy wanted her to stay a safe distance from the most important person in her life. It turned out that his concern was, in the end, unnecessary. She was all too safe now.

But she was going to see what she could do to change that.

"Jacob, what do you know about motorcycles?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Some. My friend Embry has a dirt bike. We work on it together sometimes. Why?"

"Well..." She pursed her lips as she considered. She wasn't sure if he could keep his mouth shut, but she didn't have many other options. "I recently acquired a couple of bikes, and they're not in the greatest condition. I wonder if you could get them running?"

"Cool." He seemed truly pleased by the challenge. His face glowed. "I'll give it a try."

Bella held up one finger in warning. "The thing is," she explained, "Charlie doesn't approve of motorcycles. Honestly, he'd probably bust a vein in his forehead if he knew about this. So you can't tell Billy."

"Sure, sure." Jacob smiled. "I understand."

"I'll pay you," she continued.

That offended him. "No. I want to help. You can't pay me."

"Well….how about a trade, then?" She was making this up as she went, but it seemed reasonable enough. "I only need one bike—and I'll need lessons, too. So how about this? I'll give you the other bike, and then you can teach me."

"Swee-eet." He made the word into two syllables.

"Wait a sec—are you legal yet? When's your birthday?"

"You missed it," he teased, narrowing his eyes in mock resentment. "I'm sixteen."

"Not that your age ever stopped you before," she muttered.

"Sorry about your birthday."

"Don't worry about it. I missed yours. What are you, forty?"

Bella sniffed. "Close."

"We'll have a joint party to make up for it."

"Sounds like a date."

His eyes sparkled at the word.

She needed to reign in the enthusiasm before she gave him the wrong idea—it was just that it had been a long time since she'd felt so light and buoyant. The rarity of the feeling made it more difficult to manage.

"Maybe when the bikes are finished—our present to ourselves," Bella added.

"Deal. When will you bring them down?"

She bit her lip, embarrassed. "They're in my truck now," She admitted.

"Great." He seemed to mean it.

"Will Billy see if we bring them around?"

He winked at her. "We'll be sneaky."

They eased around from the east, sticking to the trees when they were in view of the windows, affecting a casual-looking stroll, just in case. Jacob unloaded the bikes swiftly from the truck bed, wheeling them one by one into the shrubbery where Bella hid. It looked too easy for him—she'd remembered the bikes being much, much heavier than that.

"These aren't half bad," Jacob appraised as they pushed them through the cover of the trees. "This one here will actually be worth something when I'm done—it's an old Harley Sprint."

"That one's yours, then."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"These are going to take some cash, though," he said, frowning down at the blackened metal. "We'll have to save up for parts first."

"We nothing," Bella disagreed. "If you're doing this for free, I'll pay for the parts."

"I don't know…." he muttered.

"I've got some money saved. College fund, you know." College, schmollege, Bella thought to herself. It wasn't like she'd saved up enough to go anywhere special—and besides, she had no desire to leave Forks anyway. What difference would it make if she skimmed a little bit off the top?

Jacob just nodded. This all made perfect sense to him.

As they skulked back to the makeshift garage, Bella contemplated her luck. Only a teenage boy would agree to this: deceiving both their parents while repairing dangerous vehicles using money meant for her college education. He didn't see anything wrong with that picture. Jacob was a gift from the gods.

.

(Forks High School; A Few Weeks Later)

They had ushered the senior class into the cafeteria after the vigil ceremony that had been held in the auditorium. Flyers were hung up on the walls for sports, clubs and other extracurricular activities, and a red banner hung above the entrance of the cafeteria where Magic Markers scribbled out the word Fall Festival in huge, bubbly letters.

Bella ignored a prep trying to hand her a piece of paper as she and her friends (who were more than surprised that she had decided to sit with them) walked into the busy room. Tyler was showing her the new trick his older brother had taught her while the Yorkie twins argued amongst themselves.

It was a simple trick to make a pencil look like it was made of rubber. Tyler held the pencil down by the eraser and shook it at just the right speed, and it appeared to become made of bendable rubber instead of wood. The tricks Tyler learned from his brother didn't take any special skill, just a lot of practice to get the speed and technique just right. Tyler smiled at Bella like they had just shared a inside joke as the twins continued to bicker. They were fraternal twins, but they looked so similar to one another. They had the same dark hair, slanted eyes and tawny complexion to them. They were good at many things, like drawing and fixing things with their hands, but Ben was more relaxed. He listened better and did things at his own pace. Eric was the one who talked a lot.

"Nuhuh, nope, you're crazy," Eric said as he flipped his hair out of his face. "There's no way those words came out of your mouth. Star Wars does not suck."

"It has crappy titles, even crappier characters like Jar Jar Binks—who, may I remind you, almost ruined everything and made the movie even more lame—and it just takes parts from history and throws them up in space."

Eric rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. "And Star Trek is so much better? Who the hell would believe that an alien from outer space would actually quote Shakespeare like a human? Did the Klingon go to high school? Are there even schools in the 24th century?"

"Lightsabers, really?"

Eric grabbed Mike's arm. "Mike, would you please talk some sense into my brother? He's gone mental!"

Mike didn't answer, though. He was too busy looking at Jessica. It had become something of a habitual behavior ever since they had called it quits, or so Bella was told when she finally got back into joining the land of the living.

Eric yanked harder. "Mike, stop acting like a creeper and listen. Do you really think that Ben is making any sense?"

"People can have their own opinions," Mike said as he continued to look at Jessica.

She was wearing a pink, low cut shirt that showed the tops of her breasts. Her jeans were dark and blue, and her beat up converses adorned her feet. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ears and Mike sighed longingly as if the act itself was sort of beautiful.

Bella hadn't talked to Jessica much since the stunt she had pulled when they had went out. Jessica didn't want to be alone with Bella, who she still thought was suicidal, and would only be caught hanging around her if others were around. But that didn't bother Bella, though. She knew what kind of person Jessica was and she had expected her to act like she had. Not that Bella could blame her. She didn't want to think about how crazy she had looked to Jessica.

So she wouldn't think about it. That Bella was dead and gone. As of a few weeks ago, she had decided to turn a new leaf in life to get back to associating with the living instead of just existing.

Tyler hit Mike's shoulder. "Your girlfriend is walking this way."

Jessica made way across the cafeteria with two junior-class girls following behind her like she was some sort of royalty. Their sneakers scuffed against the floor and Bella found that she didn't mind the sound. It reminded her of walking through dead leaves. Bella watched Mike's face as he stared at Jessica hopefully, and wondered how he had ever found her attractive when there was Jessica Stanley.

It made sense for boys to go for Jessica. She was tall and leggy, with a wide smile and plump lips. She was freckled in the summertime and she had that perfect tan all year round, and she was the typical high school gossip queen, but she was likable. Or maybe it was because she was naïve about what really lurked out in the real world.

Bella was the weird one—pale and awkward. Brown hair might have been a strong feature for some people, but not on her; it just made it easier for people to notice how deathly pale she was. She didn't start conversations or make jokes. Nowadays, people got uneasy just by looking at her. It was one of the reasons why she had chosen to stay in the background.

So it was quite ironic that Fork's most talkative and bubbly resident was suddenly right in front of her.

"Hey, guys!"

Bella smiled along with everyone else, but she was sure it looked more like a wince. She still had to work on few social cues.

"So, what did you guys do this weekend?" Jessica asked, pulling up a chair between Eric and Ben. "Guess what I did?" When she poked her tongue out to moisten her lips, Bella caught a flash of something silver in her mouth. She had gotten her tongue pierced.

Jenna Beckmann, Jessica's junior shadow, gasped dramatically and overdid it by cupping her hands over her mouth. "Oh, my, God! You did not! I could never do that."

That made her laugh. It was completely fake, but Bella doubted that Jenna knew. "Aw, that's so cute! My parents did flip when they saw it, though. Speaking of my parents….so are yours completely freaked out by the latest drama? I mean, you've heard about Angela's little brother, right?"

Beside Bella, Lauren took in a sharp breath before letting it out. The twins had stopped smiling.

"Bella, has your dad, like, mentioned anything about it that wasn't on the news?"

Bella fumbled around to find a way to change the subject, but she couldn't think of anything on the spot.

She wasn't that prepared to jump back into a normal, everyday life. She had clear her throat before she could answer. "No. My dad's been pretty cut up about it."

Jessica's eyes were wide. "God, it makes me so glad that I'm an only child."

"Wow, some friend you are, Jess," Lauren said with a sneer and a bite in her tone.

No one said anything at first. Everyone shot a side eyed glance in Lauren's direction, not knowing what to say. She had been withdrawn from the group lately, even Bella had noticed that, and she wasn't being herself. Tyler had assured everyone that she was just tired. It was senior year; they were all tired in some way, shape and form, but Lauren wasn't acting like the Queen of Forks High like everyone had thought. She was withdrawn and quiet. Her entire demeanor was just depressing. Bella couldn't help but wonder if people had subconsciously thought the same thing about her. So she looked away when she noticed the looks everyone else was giving Lauren. She had absolutely no room to judge her.

So she diverted her attention to Angela. Sweet, kind Angela who didn't deserve to be going through such a tragic event. Bella felt like a terrible friend for not being able to comfort the one person who had been genuinely good to her since her arrival in the small town. But she didn't see that much of Angela since they only had one class together this semester, but she did live a few blocks down. She didn't know Angela's twin brothers either, but she had seen the three of them together on Sundays when church was over with. They were chubby, smiling boys named Isaac and Joshua. Both healthy and completely happy.

And just like Lauren, Angela had become depressed, but she had also physical withdrawn herself from her group of friends. When she had glanced over and made eye contact with Bella, the tall girl didn't even offer a smile like she usually would've. Instead, she just pushed her chair back. Her dark brown hair was stringy and tied up to a ponytail, bearing her naked face to everyone. From far away she seemed small, but her stance was so ridged, like she was preparing herself to take a punch. Until two days ago, Angela had been amongst friends. And the whispering, giggling likes of Jessica had been almost inseparable at her side, and people had liked her.

Now, Bella saw a familiar empty space all around Angela. She knew it well, and it made her shiver at the realization that it didn't take much for people to become shells of who they once were, and that people would be quick to make you an outcast. All you needed was one bad thing to happen.

Jessica didn't waste anytime on Lauren. She just flipped her hair over her shoulder and suddenly, she was leaning more closer to Eric. "You just never think of a baby being kidnapped then murdered, ya know? My mom's been kinda crazy with her Rosaries and Hail Mary's since she heard even though she doesn't have a baby. Hey, are you guys doing anything Saturday? Conner's having a party."

For a second, Bella entertained the thought of sitting there and listening to Jessica ramble on. It's what she would've done a year ago. But if she was going to be breaking her promises, she figured it wouldn't hurt to break out some of her flaws, too. So while Jessica was in mid-sentence, talking about something for the Winter Ball, Bella pushed her chair back and told everyone that she would see them later. Jessica looked a little putout, not liking the fact that she had been interpreted. And when the old Bella wanted to apologize, the new one jerked her body in the direction of the hall. Just go.

She made it through the maze of tables and out of the cafeteria without stumbling, and Bella could feel her heart beating in her chest as she smiled proudly to herself.

Maybe her idea wasn't so bad after all.


Responses:

ValueMyHeart: Thank you for being my first reviewer. I hope that you like this chapter, too.

natcityjp: Thank you!

Code-Kya: I'm so glad that you like it! And there will be a lot more of historic folklore that will be introduced into the story, and not just those that come from the Mediterranean and Europe. I want to incorporate as many cultural beliefs as I can. I hope that you liked this cheaper as well!


Information/Credits/Disclaimers:

—All characters and events belong to Stephenie Meyer and to the publisher, Little, Brown and Company. Events from the movie(s) belong to the production and distribution companies.

—The Great Hall at Union Station is a historical landmark in Seattle, Washington. I was not sponsored to mention the venue.

—Charlotte Hewes is married to Jonathan Uley, and mothered Sue Clearwater and Lucas Uley. Her grandchildren are Leah Clearwater and Seth Clearwater. The website did not state whether or not she is deceased.

—Jonathan Uley is the son of Caleb Uley and Alice Huautah, the older brother of Mirabelle Uley, the grandson of Thomas Uley I, and Beatrice Door, the husband of Charlotte Hewes, the father of Sue Uley, and Lucas Uley, and the grandfather of Leah Clearwater, and Seth Clearwater. The website did not state whether or not he is deceased.

—"You better be scared," someone whispered. "[She's] a bad one, a lovely bad one, a bad, bad, bad one." Is a direct quote taken from Mary Downing Hahn's All the Lovely Bad Ones. The "ghost" scene was all inspired by the book, too.

—This chapter was not overlooked by a beta.


If you liked this chapter, please favorite this story and review. It would be very helpful to get the next chapter going.

Until next time.