A/N: a big thanks to Mac214, my beta. This chapter is a hundred times better than what I started with because of her. Enjoy!!
BPOV
"Angela! Jessica!!"
I realize my cries for help are softer and more tremulous than I want them to be, but my throat is so dry that I'm lucky to be shrieking as loud as I am. I must look ridiculous, like I'm running for my life, and I'm so embarrassed by how freaked out I am that tears are starting to streak down my face. I can't help it though; I need to get to Angela and Jessica. I need familiarity, and they're the closest things I have to familiarity at the moment. They're in sight now, just a little furth—
Oof!
I wish I wasn't so clumsy.
"There she is! Bella!"
I want to get up and run to them, but I just can't. I ran and tripped and fell and got up and started running again the entire way here; they can come the last fifty feet.
"Bella! Are you okay?" Angela reaches me and puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"What the hell happened to you?" Jessica asks, perhaps just a tad rudely.
"I…"
… have apparently lost all powers of speech, as well as motor skills.
"I was almost attacked."
"Oh my God!"
"Are you okay?" Finally, some compassion from Jessica.
"Yeah. Yeah, I… he got my purse."
Clearly that's the most benign thing I could tell them. Would they think I'm crazy if I told them I saw something eating—eating??—one of the men who was stalking me? And then almost tried to eat me, as well? Its eyes were shimmering like rubies through the shadows... Wait, did I really see red eyes on that... thing? No, that just sounds too mental, even in my own head. Maybe I was hallucinating.
"Oh man, I hope he doesn't steal your identity. That happened to me once when I went shopping on a website that wasn't secure. It was such a pain canceling all my credit cards…"
"Jess…"
"Oh, sorry. Um, don't worry, Bella. Your dad probably deals with this kind of stuff all the time. I'm sure he'll know what to do."
Oh no. Charlie. He's certainly going to give me the third degree about this incident. Locks can be changed, driver's licenses can be replaced, but Charlie will never let me forget that my purse was stolen in Port Angeles and I will consequentially never again be trusted to go to any city of any kind ever again. And he won't even know the half of it.
Then again, if I can manage to get myself into messes like this, maybe I'm better off staying in sleepy ol' Forks.
"So, how did it happen, exactly?" Angela looks up at me shyly, wondering if it's impolite to ask. I don't think it's impolite, but I'll have to come up with a good story for them that's pretty close to the truth.
"Well, um… I found that bookstore I was looking for, but then I went the wrong way after leaving it…"
"Uh huh…"
"And I didn't realize it, but I was actually walking away from downtown. So then I hear a guy following me… yeah… and he kept getting closer and closer until he was almost right behind me! So without him noticing, I pulled out my pepper spray from my purse and turned around—"
"And?" they both ask in unison.
"He was right behind me, and… and had a hand on the strap of my purse!"
"Oh my God!"
"So I sprayed him with the pepper spray, dropped my purse, and ran."
"Wow," Jessica sighs.
"That must've been so scary."
Man, I must be a good storyteller. Normally people can see right through my lies.
"It was, but I'm really glad I got away in time."
"I'll say."
"I hope you haven't been waiting too long for me."
"Well, we kind of already ate without you," Angela admits. "Sorry."
"Oh. Well… that's okay. I'm not that hungry anyway."
Or too shocked and scared to eat is the other, more probable, possibility.
"Okay, well, let's get a move on," Jessica says, starting to walk toward her car. "I'm sure Bella wants to let the Chief know what happened so he can catch the guy."
"Ugh. He's going to be so mad."
"Hey, at least you made it out alive, right?" Angela smiles at me, hopeful.
"Heh. Yeah, I guess…"
I wonder if my strained laugh is fooling anyone. It certainly isn't fooling me. I just can't help but wonder… what was that… that thing? That thing that jumped from the rooftop and pounced on that man, that snarled and incapacitated him, dragged him into the alleyway, that seemed to slurp and devour and… feast. And then looked at me like I was next.
How in the hell did I make it out alive?
… … …
EPOV
"Carlisle."
"Edward. Where are you?"
I can hear the veiled condemnation through the concern in my father's voice. How timely of him to call.
"Port Angeles, Washington. I'm assuming Alice saw something that did not meet your approval."
"Edward, I haven't approved of the life you've been leading for quite some time."
His amendment stings more than it should; it makes me realize how much I still wish to make him proud of me. I should try not to think of the pain all this is causing him.
"But what Alice saw is exactly what I've been saying all along. This is a slippery slope, my son. This girl you're planning to hunt is completely innocent. Once you've partaken of her, what's stopping you from hunting whomever you please?"
"But it won't be that way, Carlisle. I still have my restrictions. But there are exceptions to every rule, are there not? This girl is my exception. Her scent is so… all-consuming."
He doesn't realize that I'm drowning in her scent as we speak, holding a knit scarf from her purse to my face and inhaling the aroma like it's nitrous oxide. I've never understood humans who were addicted to drugs—now I feel worse off than they are.
After all, once I drink this girl's blood, I will never again be able to get another hit. That thought makes her sweet floral scent almost smell bitter.
Almost.
"It's not the girl I'm worried about; everyone in this family has made regrettable mistakes. What I'm worried about is that you're slipping away from us, from our way of life. And, well… we miss you."
"Well, I'm sorry, but you know why I can't just come home to you. I have to live this way for a little while longer… just to see…"
"I understand."
Ah, remorse, Carlisle's eternal friend. Will he ever forgive himself for creating me?
No, focus. Carlisle is hardly the issue. I can't let him distract me from what I really should be pondering: how best can I savor this human's blood?
I need time to think, a place to think...
"Carlisle, I do have a favor to ask you."
"What is it, son?"
He's not going to like this.
"I want to stay in the area a little longer… Would you mind if I stayed in the house near the Quileute land? We do still own it, right?"
I can hear his muffled sigh in response though the phone; of course he doesn't like it. I'm putting him in a precarious position, knowing full well what it'll do to him. I'm taking advantage of his compassion and generosity. Would I do this to him if my every action weren't being controlled by my need to drink the blood of this human? Probably not. But this is the way I'm living now, and somehow it doesn't seem like such a terrible thing to do with this girl's scent enflaming my senses and clouding my mind.
I truly am a monster.
"We do still own it…"
He's trying to be calculating about what he says next. Hah! Like anything he says will convince me to call off the hunt.
"And you may stay there if you need to. But, there must be some way to—"
"Carlisle?"
The Olympic Peninsula is certainly not renowned for its cell phone reception. Blasted thing.
"Carlisle? Are you there?"
"I have to go, son. Please think about who you are and what you're doing."
Click.
Hm, certainly not like Carlisle to just abruptly end a conversation, especially when he hasn't convinced me to honor his wishes yet. This can only mean one thing.
They're plotting something.
All of them, and they need to discuss it right away. Someone must have brought to his attention that I can't possibly refuse them all, a united front, convincing me of the monster I'm becoming and how the senseless violence doesn't need to continue.
Of course I know all that though. And they know all my reasons to live the way I do. We beat that issue to death years ago.
Why is it so important all of a sudden that I don't kill this human?
This girl with the sweetest smelling blood…
Ah yes, the matter at hand. The house. My stakeout. I should go tend to it—no doubt it has cobwebs and dust all over, and if I'm going to stay here, I may as well tidy up a bit and make myself comfortable. Maybe I can lure the girl there somehow...
I will begin tracking her at daybreak.
… …
BPOV
Forty-five minutes. I've been listening to Charlie's ranting and raving for forty-five—forty-six minutes now, and there's still no end in sight to his tirade. Luckily, watching the seconds tick by on the wall clock is proving to be a good distraction while Charlie talks himself in circles.
"Bella! Are you listening?"
"Yes Char—Dad."
"You could've been killed! Or worse!"
Can't help but ask.
"What's worse than being dead, Dad?"
"Being raped and left for dead. How about that?"
Oh.
I sometimes forget that Charlie is the Chief of Police, and does have to deal with serious crimes once in a blue moon. He actually knows what he's talking about, despite the fact that most of the cases he gets are neighborly disputes and petty theft.
I suddenly regret even asking. No need to fill his head with that kind of imagery.
"Well, I didn't get killed. I sprayed him with pepper spray, dropped my purse, and ran."
"You got lucky."
Now if that isn't the understatement of the century.
"You have to understand, Bells. I just got you back. Do you know how terrible I would feel if something had happened to you not two months after you arrived here? Not to mention that your mother would have even more to blame me for…"
"Mom doesn't blame you for as much as you think she does."
"Not now."
Ugh. There's obviously going to be no talking him out of his position—his and Renee's sordid relationship is far too complex to hash out tonight, especially when he's so upset. It's barely the matter at hand anyway. No, the matter at hand is how to diffuse this time bomb of a man and escape to my room?
"Dad, it was dumb to wander off on my own. I know that. But I obviously didn't realize Port Angeles could be that dangerous, and I promise I'll be more careful from now on. Okay?"
"Okay."
"I need to finish some homework. You should get some rest—you look awfully tired."
"Can't imagine why."
I know he doesn't mean that as a joke, but I can't help but laugh. Maybe it's still my nerves getting the better of me.
Thank God Charlie just fixed the deadbolt on the front door in the wake of my incident. Maybe I'll actually sleep easy tonight.
"'Night, Dad."
"'Night, Bells."
Because whatever saved me—is saved even the right word?—is still out there. And it has my purse, my keys, my personal information…
At this point, mere identity theft would be a blessing.
