Jacobs's Jacket

BPOV

By age five, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart had composed his first piece of music. At age six Oscar Claude Monet had painted the world's first impression painting. King Tutankhamen was the ruler of the most powerful nation by age nine. Fourteen year old Nathan Hale became the first American spy used in their fight for independence, only to be killed by the British soldiers several days later, saying "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country". At twenty, Galusha Pennypacker was in control of the entire U.S. Army. And by age thirty-two Alexander the Great had rose to power, lost his kingdom, and was assassinated.

Those are the people who will always be remembered, the ones who found their calling at a young age and went on to take the world in fame or die a heinous death. No one ever remembers the people who had truly found their purpose in life. People like me.

Isabella Marie Swan, I picked up my first hunting blade at two weeks, my first gun at three months, and my first explosive weapon at age two. By age five, I wasn't making music; I was throwing spears at big bright red and white targets. At age nine I already knew how to kill a man with anything from a ballpoint pen to a dry string of spaghetti. At twelve I had slaughtered my first mafia member; mom and dad were so proud. By thirteen I lost it all, and by age fourteen I was so filled with anger and rage that killing was the only thing I wanted to do. Thirteen was the year I learned how to kill something other than a human. I learned how to kill the invincible, the undead. Vampires. And at seventeen, my life stood still, my body would never grow old, my hair would never turn gray, and I had only one purpose. The reason for my life is quite simple; I'm here to massacre every cold, heartless, bloodsucker on the face of this Earth.

I thought about all my years on this planet, and every year there was always a different mission, a different conquest. And I always got them: not a single victim has ever escaped my grasps. Until now that is, and so that's what leads me to the small and pitifully dreary, not to mention damp, town of Forks, Washington.

It was my first day enrolled in Forks High School; home of the Spartans apparently. I could feel the disgust rolling around in my stomach as I thought about what I was about to face. It wasn't even the fear of seeing my prey, that part sent shivers of excitement down my back. No, it was the things that would get in the way of me and my job. Teenagers full of raging hormones that cause them to want to grab and touch. Ugh, I gripped at the leather on my steering wheel tight, trying with all my effort not to break it in half.

I could barely remember a time when I was a real teenager, although my body was trapped at an eternal seventeen, I was way past the urges of sexual tension and the need to scream at every song that came on the radio, or gossip about boys and prom. Even when I was human, I didn't go through anything a normal adolescent girl had. I was learning to break the necks off of dummy vampires, and how to rip the jugular out of their throats using nothing but my teeth. Rather than going to a real school and having real friends, I was reading ancient leather-bound books on "the cold ones". I had no parents to order me around or give me a curfew; I just had the department to take care of my basic necessities. It wasn't really living as much as preparation for what I was about to face in my life. I remember lying in bed looking up and out at the stars that shined through the glass ceiling of my room, and thinking about preparing for a normal life. Going to college and getting an education other than gun handling 101, but then I would remember all the reasons that I was chosen for this life.

Today I knew that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world then standing over the finally dead and burning corpse of a vampire. I relaxed my hands on the wheel and let a small smile escape from my tightly laced lips as I approached the turn off to the school; one step closer to what I really desired.

The day had already started out on a bad note as I had stared out the kitchen window this morning as I equipped myself for the day ahead. The rain fell from the sky in slow large drops that left no surface dry. I could tell from just looking that it was a cold pungent rain, it thickened the air and cooled the temperature of the surrounding earth.

I sighed now as the rain continued to flow from the crying heavens, only to be plopped down on my windshield, and swiped off into the forest which buzzed past me in a green blur. I would take the sun over rain and snow any day of my existence; it was one of the few things that made me and my enemies different. That and the fact that blood still ran through my veins, it is slow and steady, trickling in thick drops in a unnaturally bright scarlet color, pumping from my heart in slow shallow beats. I'm not your average girl, you see: my counselors like to say I'm the next breed of super hero. Ha, yeah right! I'm far from anything close to a heroine. I came up with the conclusion that I'm someone in between a human and a vampire; lost in my own little limbo. My heart still beats, but my skin is just as pale and hard as the creatures I'm so hell bent on destroying.

I tried to brush all of my thought aside as I entered the small student parking lot. I quickly passed all of the dented monstrous cars that consumed the lot, and parked in a spot marked Facility Only NO STUDENT PARKING. I gave a humorless chuckle and opened the door; I'd never been one to follow the rules.

The wind hit my legs harshly wrapping its cold embrace around my fishnet covered limbs. The cold didn't bother me; I couldn't even feel the chill, only a pleasant sensation of air. I rose from my comfortable leather chair and froze; I could already feel their eyes on me. The way it made my heart flutter anxiously broke a simple smile to my face that I couldn't seem to contain. I moved to grab my satchel from the passenger seat and straightened back up.

Then I could feel it, not only the students' eyes, but their eyes. It had stopped raining and the asphalt was soggy and blackened by the precipitation. I snapped my head in the exact direction I knew they would be. And sure enough, my eyes instantly connected with his. I put a death grip on my bag as I tried to calm myself, but knowing that they stood so close in proximity sent those all too familiar cravings through my body. The need and desire that whispered in the back of my head to walk straight over to them and asphyxiate the air they were greedily taking away from the rest of the human population. I could keep my features calm, but my eyes were another story. I knew what he could see in them, anger, pure raging hatred. As much as it pained me to look at them without knowing that I was about to annihilate them, formed a grimace on my face, but it was rule one.

Rule 1: Target the subject.

I couldn't bear to look at them anymore, and slammed my car door a little harder than necessary, advancing toward the office. I huffed into the air, and jerked open the door which lead into a small office building. I made my way around the tacky eighties olive green plastic chairs that lined the floral papered wall and over to one of the cheap desks that was occupied. The woman behind the office desk was heavy set with thick frizzy curls of red hair on her head. She looked up at me and from behind her large black-rimmed glasses and I saw her eyes widen.

"C-can I help you young lady?" She asked in an annoyingly high pitched voice.

I had to hold back the sarcastic laugh that was building up in the back of my throat. It always amused me when older people called me young lady or little girl, when in truth I was old enough to be their great-grandparents. She just continued to marvel at my skin and body; I could see the envy behind her eyes as she stared up at me waiting for an answer.

"Yes my name is D-" I stopped short catching myself from finishing my sentence. It's force of habit when you've been called Death for the last century of your never ending life. I remember the day I got the nickname from my best friends. It seemed to stick ever since. Now I was known as Agent Death, deadly like a black widow, but delicate like a butterfly. The guys in the program liked to joke, although I didn't find it funny. "Isabella Swan," I said through clenched teeth, but tried to give her a reassuring smile.

"Oh, um yes, your father called us about a month ago. I must say that we were quite surprised to hear you where coming, we hardly ever get new students." She looked up at me with those abnormally large bug eyes which made it all the more tempting to lean over and snap her neck clean off of her shoulders.

"I wonder why," I said in a low voice. Thinking back to the cold rain, whistling winds, and all the green, plus the welcome sign that hung on the side of the office building, I wondered who would ever move here; let alone send their child to this shady, under-funded school.

"What?" She questioned looking up at me with a bushy eyebrow quirked towards the ceiling.

"Yes, well it was necessary for his new job," I said covering my remark.

My real father had obviously not made the call, unless they got good reception six feet under the ground in Italy. David, the program president makes all the calls involving enrollment in anything for our missions. I couldn't do it because I don't technically exist, so David has to make up some fake social security numbers and IDs for our assignments. People move places all the time on business, so I didn't think anything of my comment that is till she had to analyze it.

She looked at me in an odd way, "I didn't know there were any job offerings around here."

"Hmm, interesting," I replied but didn't wait for her to continue the conversation. I grabbed the white sheet of paper off of the office counter and walked out of the small building. Taking a deep breath, I was relieved to get out of the confined space which smelled of layers of must and leftover lasagna.

I took a quick peek at my small salmon colored schedule. I remember filling out all of the required course recommendations. I managed to get out of the four years of gym that was essential to graduate, and most of the core classes that where otherwise mandatory for all registered seniors. That left my entire day empty with nothing but a creative arts class and my two languages. David had "suggested" I brush up on my foreign tongues, I use the word suggest lightly, as if it was negotiable; he can be a real pain in my ass sometimes. The rest of my day was spent in the library; it was the only deal David could work out with the principle. In order to get out of all my regular classes, I had to help the elderly librarian reshelf books. I wasn't personally looking forward to the one on one time with grandma.

The halls were eerily empty, especially for a high school filled with moronic teenagers. I only saw a couple of stragglers who sprinted into a classroom, but not before stopping to gawk at me. I wandered down the last stained tile hallway of the building. There were bulletin boards long abandoned with year old car washing fundraiser posters, and even an announcement about the 2001 prom "a night in the stars". I rolled my eyes and finally reached the end of the hall where a pair of wooden doors separated the space from what I assumed was the library.

With an easy tug the right door, few open making a terrible squeaking noise, giving the sign that the hinges needed oiling. I walked into the room which was much bigger than I would have thought for a school this size. Certainly much nicer than some of the community one's I've been too when in desperation for a much needed book.

It was a square shaped room with large cherry oak shelves lining the surrounding walls, and making up row after row, all stacked with books. There was even a small lofty second story that also held the same shelving, and even a few matching tables and chairs which were also located on the ground floor. It was unexpected how clean it smelled and looked. All the tables had been polished and sported a shiny glow that glimmered when the florescent lights hit them. Instead of the normal dusty old book smell that I had grown accustom to, the air was light with the smell of ginger and some sort of woody fragrance.

As I looked around the room my eyes finally landed on a large counter desk that was beautifully decorated with hand carvings and polished wood. A thin looking old woman stood in her place behind a computer. Her eyes were trained on me from behind her wire-framed glasses that were balanced expertly on her nose, and a smile decorated her face. She didn't strike me as the typical librarian, who most people feared and others made fun of. She seemed wise beyond her years although her face was lined with neatly placed wrinkles, and sagging skin that came with her age. Her eyes held the understanding of a great professor, and the kindness of a lovable grandmother. But there was something else too, almost as if she knew something was off about me. Could she?

Before I could analyze it, she dropped her gaze down to a sheet of paper on the countertop.

"Your late, Isabella," she said in a calm feminine voice, that sent a warming feeling through my body. It was almost like hearing my grandmother's voice again.

"I prefer Bella," I wasn't up to giving apologizes to people I hadn't known for more than two seconds.

"Hmm," she hummed taking in my appearance. "I hope you can stack books in heels." She walked out from behind the desk. She was wearing a neat pencil shirt with matching black stockings and a dark cardigan that hung delicately around her figure. On her feet was an identical pair of high heels to the ones I wore on my feet now. Hypocrite.

"Is there a funeral in town or do you just like a new breed of gothic grandma?" I asked putting my bag down on the nearest table top and bent down to remove my heels.

"Those who have lived a good life do not fear death, but meet it calmly and even long for it in the face of great suffering. But those who do not have a peaceful conscience dread death as though life means nothing but physical torment. The challenge is to live our life so that we will be prepared for death when it comes." She let her smile fade as she stared at me with the same knowing gaze. It intrigued me. She swept an out of place hair back behind her ear leaving not a single hair disturbed on her neat white head.

"'The hour of departure has arrived and we go our ways; I to die, and you to live. Which is better? Only God knows.'" She quoted.

"Socrates," I said remembering the quote from the great Greek philosopher. I stared at her questionably. How could she possibly know who I am? Who did this lady think she was? God?

"I'm Mrs. Mort, but everyone just calls me Mrs. Death."

I let my shoe drop to the floor as I gapped at the old women. Was she batty!

"How do you…" I couldn't finish my sentence.

"Come now Isabella I'll teach you how to use the card categorizer." She smiled before making her way back to her desk.

Some odd hours later I stood in front a large pile of books sitting on top of one of the polished desks trying to put some order back into the randomly tossed volumes. The library was open during all lunch hour according to Mrs. Death, so at the ring of the first lunch bell a crowd of bookworm freshmen swarmed the premises checking out stacks of books for any and every class you could think of. I even watched as a small girl came in and checked out Les Misérables for "light reading". Now I was left to clean up their mess come the second lunch bell. Senior lunch didn't have much of a crowd, only a few still dedicated students who were determined to get a head start on their grueling English papers for finals gathered on the first floor by the computes.

As I grabbed a dozen or so books, each balanced between my two arms in an inhuman fashion. I walked down the long rows of shelves and placed each book in their respectable place. I looked at the last book that lay on the table when I finally finished. I laughed at the title: Glass Houses by Rachel Caine. It was a book I had found while rummaging through a sale bin at some overpriced book store in California. It was all about a girl who ends up going to college in a town filled with vampires. I found it quite hilarious actually, although I assume it wasn't the author's intentions to make the book humorous. I laughed softly as I walked the whole way to the back of a particular set of shelves where they meet the walls and made an alcove of darkness. I grabbed the ladder and climbed it in my still bare-stocking feet.

Just as the book slipped back into its rightful home, a low buzz erupted from my left pocket on my dress. I sighed, but pulled the sleek black phone out of its hiding place and pressed the talk button.

"Death," I answered quickly not wanting to let the suspicious librarian hear me break her one and only rule:

One and only library rule: No cell phones.

"No, it's Isabella now, remember?" I recognized the voice on the other end of the phone as the one and only Die. She was the one who had given me the nickname and I hers. A smile worked its way up my face at just the sound of my best friend's voice.

"What's up Die? Something wrong?" I asked hopping to get a "no everything's fine," but things never worked out that way for me. Even on my first day in this hell hole I wasn't allowed a break from headquarters. As my old professor used to tell me, "There's no break in vampire hunting."

"Well not really, it's just, well; David wants you to do something really stupid and potentially dangerous." I instantly took note at the words "stupid" and "dangerous" the rest of the words in between fell away.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I told him how dumb and stupid it was but…."

"I'm in. What do I need to do?" I cut her off before she could finish her lecturing. If there was danger involved I was always in.

She sighed and went on. "Why do I even try? There is no reasoning with you. Okay so there is a pack in a nearby town called La Push. Dave wants you to check it out and brief them on our mission. Got it?" She said with a subtle sigh.

I wrinkled my nose and pulled my eyebrows together at her words. "Wolves? God I hate having to deal with them, all they do is get in the way." I sighed, never the less I wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to get out of this library. "Ok I'm on it Die." I wasn't going to miss out on the prospect of messing up the minds of a pack of vulnerable wolfs.

"Hey, Death," she called though the phone.

"Yes," I smiled at what I knew she was going to say next. It was tradition when signing off with each other.

"Go die."

"You're dead." Was all I said before hanging up the phone and letting out a small string of laughter, which echoed through the tight space of the library.

My fit of laughter was interrupted by a small intake of breath and the one voice I really couldn't stand to listen to right now, without killing something "Excuse me?"

I gritted my teeth together to stop myself form tearing his head off right then and there. I turned and realized I was still standing on the ladder as I looked down upon him. His eyes shone with something bright that I didn't care to marvel at. My gaze was an icy glare that left nothing for his imagination to confirm that I indeed did not like him. But he just stood there at the base of the ladder staring up at me with mystified eyes. He looked like he had just seen an angel and was about to bow down before me and offer up some sort of sacrifice. Although he didn't, the only thing he offered was that cocky half smile that made me dig my nail into my palm to avoid smacking him.

I didn't answer and he took that as some signal that I wanted to hear him talk. "I was just wondering if you could help me find a book," he looked at me and then took a step back. That's more like it! I thought to myself as I crossed my arms across me chest. Be afraid Cullen, you're the lamb and I'm the ferocious lion hankering for a snack.

"It's um ah…..The Raven." He stood frozen in place and looked at me uncomfortably.

I slowly stepped down from the ladder. Without my heels he towered a foot or so over my five foot four but it didn't make me feel any less powerful in this situation. I padded my way across the waxed wooden floors and paused leaving no more than an inch of space between us. My eyes never left his and his never left mine, as I reached behind his head, still staring into his dark black eyes, and plucked the book from the shelf. I let out a breath as I stepped away from him and slapped the book roughly into his awaiting hands.

I could only deal with one antic at a time, and now wasn't Edward Cullen's turn to get my attention. I had wolves to deal with, and if you don't speak to them on a third grade level they automatically assume you are there to "disturb their land". I rolled my eyes dramatically at nothing in particular, and moved out of the shelve area, down the wooden staircase, and straight to Mrs. Mort's desk. She was staring at something intently.

"You have to be somewhere." She said without looking up from her book. It wasn't a question so much as a statement.

"Yes, you see I have this-"

"No need to make excuses in my library Isabella." She finally looked up from her book and placed her hand on top of mine which was settled on the side of the desk.

"We all have places to be in life, and sometimes we can't afford to be late." I looked down at her hand and froze. Around her wrist was a delicate gold chain charm bracelet that matched the one on my opposite wrist. From it dangled dozens of small little trinkets, all of which sported some small symbol which was imprinted on each hanging shape. It was the bracelet that we all wore, every agent; even my mother and father had one.

"You-"

She wouldn't let me take again, "Places to be Isabella." She patted my hand one more time before retrieving it and going back to read her book.

Without thinking I moved to the door and found myself out in the cool damp air again. I couldn't process that Mrs. Mort was at one time in her life an agent. It must have been way before the experiments with immortality began. How old was she?

I couldn't bother think about it all as I sped out of Forks High parking lot and onto the highway. I barely made the turn off: it was covered in over growth from the trees and other green plants that thrived in cold wet weather. I continued up the steep part mud part grass road for what seemed like hours. Finally I emerged into a large clearing and pulled onto the gravel drive which lead right to a large red brick house placed in the center of the large meadow.

The driveway continued up and around the house to the large garage that sat on the edge from where the white gravel stopped. As I parked my car in the garage and shut the door before leaving, you could never be too careful with perfection, and the Vanquish is perfection on wheels.

I walked along the stone path to the house and sprinted up the staircase that lead onto the wraparound porch that would rarely ever be used considering 358 days out of the year it's cloudy and cold here. I shoved the key into the lock and turned. I twisted and flung door open to reveal the contents of my new home.

I haphazardly threw my keys onto the table right next to the door. I kicked the door closed with one foot and immediately headed for the stairs. I took the steps two at a time, stopping only to remove my heels for the second time today. I finally made it to the top with shoes in hand and sprinted for my bedroom at the end of the hall.

It's the largest room in the entire house that I chose for myself when I first moved in all of two weeks ago. It provided a seemingly tranquil view of the forest and small creek that flowed through the woods. I composed myself for only a second before I stripped my wool dress off and flung it somewhere over my head, allowing my shoes to go with it. The fishnet stocking took some concentration and patience as I fumbled to get them off, and when I finally did, I was left in only my underclothing. I made a mad dash to my closet to rummage through my rows and stacks of garments.

I didn't waste time with anything in the formal department, no; I needed something sturdy, durable. You could never be too careful when picking out an outfit that is suitable to wear, when it comes to werewolves. Finally deciding, I grabbed a pair of black skinny jeans and yanked them on with only a couple of quick tugs. I pulled a navy blue long sleeved cotton thermal from a hanger and made quick work putting it on as well. Then I grabbed my favorite worn black leather jacket from the hook on the back of the door, and found a pair of black buckle boots.

I walked out of the large closet, pulled my long brown hair up into a neat bun, shoving a few bobby pins randomly in place. Without even looking in the mirror I found my way back downstairs and out the front door.

Quickly glancing at the rows of keys hanging on the garage wall, I picked the closest set. That led me straight to the white 2011 Mercedes Benz BLK which I had picked up during my last assignment were I spent a year in Germany. It always put a smile on my face when some car crazed men wanted to take a picture with the car. Which I've been told wasn't scheduled to be released for another six months. They always assume I'm a black diamond smuggler. People always like to think they've had some sort of brush with danger in their dull lives.

It wasn't a far drive to La Push, with only one exit in and out of the area; I pulled off the highway with ease. I soon passed a sign welcoming me into Quileute territory.

I reached for my phone in my back pocket to retrieve the email Die had sent me. It contained several pictures and connected names to people, headquarters could pin point as some of the pack leaders.

I was surprisingly shocked to see the baby faced boys that made up most of the pack. Some couldn't be more then fourteen or fifteen. I understood what it felt like to be still a child and having the weight of an immense secret on your shoulders.

The road narrowed the farther I got from the highway, and soon little two bedroom houses started to pop out along my right hand side. As I continued on the road and passed more dull colored homes, I noticed that the road was getting thinner and thinner while the trees started to branch out father into the street. I finally came to a stop at a small intersection. Next to the light sat a tiny convenience store that look more like a shack then an actual place of business. I sighed as I crawled to a halt behind a slow moving pick-up truck that looked to be about as old as me. I turned my head to look out my tinted windows at the store which apparently was a local hang out for many teenagers.

I watched curiously as they exited from the store with bottles of what looked to be soda pop in their hands. They joked around and laughed at each other, spilling the contents of their bottles on one another. As I looked closer I couldn't help noticing that the boys looked strangely close to the ones from the files Die sent me. I quickly pulled out my phone and opened the first picture to a boy named Jacob Black. Sure enough there he stood; there they all stood.

I turned my head to find that the light had turned green but the old red truck wasn't moving. I tried to back up and pull around the truck thinking that whoever was driving was simply having car troubles, but no sooner did I sent the car in reverse, another truck pulled up behind me blocking me in from the front and back.

"What the hell?" I yelled blowing my horn in frustration at the immobile cars.

When I jerked my head back to the spot where the boys had been previously I was surprised to find them suddenly gone. A low growl gurgled in my chest as I gripped the wheel with damaging force.

Tap, tap, tap. I snapped my body in the direction of sound only to find the same boy with short black hair, and tan skin looking right at me through the darkened glass. Annoyed I tapped my finger on the leather of the center consol.

"I know you're in there," he said mater-of-fact.

Without thinking about hitting the body next to me, I throw the car back into reverse and backed up only to stop an inch from the grill of the vehicle behind me and put it back into drive. I stepped my foot on the gas and the car bolted forward barely missing the rusty truck in front of me.

"Wolves!" I shouted to no one, and sped down the thin road.

I kept muttering to myself as I parked in a tiny beach lot that was composed of mostly sand and stones. Getting out of the car I slammed the door shut with an unexpected amount of force and trudged into the muddy forest. If they weren't careful, someone was going to lose an arm today. I don't care if we are on the same team; just because humans and tigers both eat meat doesn't mean we belong in the same cage.

Ugh! I was starting to sound like my mother.

I found them waiting for me far off into the woods, arms crossed and half naked, all of them with exposed chests. Ten boys varying from young teens to mid twenties lined the surrounded clearing, leaving me in a blocked of circle. All of them wore the same cut of jeans with bare feet. Their well defined muscles flexed with tension as I took a step towards them.

I couldn't help the fit of giggles that bubbled up from my stomach and out my pale pink lips. Looking at them sent me over the edge in hysteria, all of them feeling so threatened, yet they all wore the faces of a scared child. Each one of them was thinking the same thing: "Is this the day I'm going to die?"

Death wasn't what everyone thought or hoped it would be. It's not the bright lights, or your soul stepping out of your body to watch your love ones cry over you, although thanks to Hollywood, that's what everyone expects. Their waiting for their day when they are finally appreciated for their time spent of this hell called Earth. Every religion has their own beliefs and theories about what does happen with we die, but the truth is simple. I've seen what happens first hand, and it isn't Hollywood coated glitz and glam. It's harsh, the reality of it, but you simply die. Your body decomposes and you no longer exist on this planet, you're remembered now and again, but truly all the history in whatever kind of life you left behind boils away and leaves you nowhere. Dead and gone. And that's why the people, like Nathan Hale and Alexander the Great, are remembered, because they made something of themselves and proved to the world that they weren't just another body in the crowd, they were somebody. But then that takes us back to where they are now. Dead. So anyway you choose to look at it, it seems that death is a black hole of never ending sorrow, then again maybe it's something more.

"May I ask what you find so humorous?" asked one of the older boys, maybe in his late teens early twenties.

I stopped laughing long enough to catch my breath and slap a wide grin on my face.

"Well it's just when I heard 'wolf pack' I was expecting men, not children." I said letting out a sighed laugh.

Their eyes danced with disgust and then something changed in the air as the wind adjusted directions and made the branches groan and moan at the new force.

"And what do you call yourself, an adult? You're barely older than me." Stated a brave little puppy who I noticed was the one named Jacob Black. I chuckled humorlessly as my eyes glazed over in frustration and anger; I was no longer playing this game of twenty questions.

"Oh but dear Jacob, I haven't aged since the turn of the century." I took a step closer to him. "My body is cold and gray without life," another step, "I will never see the day I turn eighteen," closer, "I get to walk this world over, and over, and over, till someone rips my head off my body, cuts me into little pieces, and watches at my flesh burns in the low ambers of a hellish fire." I closed the space between us with one last small step.

I now stood so close I could feel his warm breath on my chilly skin. His nostrils flared and his chest quivered at the closeness of our bodies.

"And you Jacob Black, born 1993 to the parents of Sarah and William Black. Mother was killed in car accident when you were nine, it left your father paralyzed from the waist down. You have two sisters Rachel and Rebecca, they were the lucky ones. They got out of this crappy town when they still had the chance. But they left you behind to take care of Billy didn't they Jake? And look what happened to you. Do you ever sit up at night staring at the wall wishing that he would have died in that car accident with mommy? You could have made it Jakey, but look at you now, look at the filthy, disgusting, dog you've-"

I didn't get the chance to finish my sentence as I felt the claws penetrating my tough skin and grazing the back of my lungs. It took me a second to comprehend what happened. When I did I fell to my knees holding my stomach, as if trying to hold all my organs in. There was a loud screeching sound coming from someone, and it took me a minute to realize it was me. My screams filled the whole forest and sent every bird within a mile radius scattering. I looked up through watery eyes to see all of the wolves lying on their sides, ears covered with their hands and eyes switched tight.

I could feel my magical body starting to mend the torn flesh on my back. I could feel the pulling and tugging of the invisible needle that stitched my skin back together, leaving only a bloody red gash across my back.

My screams had stopped but no one moved from their place on the ground, not even me. My insides turned inside out trying to repair the internal damage as quickly as possible. I felt like throwing up all the contents of my empty stomach. Tears poured over the edge of my bottom lids and down checks leaving faint tear stains. It was an odd sensation to feel the tears because I couldn't cry, only when I was in an immense amount of pain did tears fall from my eyes in order to help relieve me of some of the pain. Almost like my body's own supply of morphine.

Still on my knees in the mud, I reached behind my arm to my back to inspect the damage carefully. Before coming in contact with my skin I felt the soft leather shreds that surrounded the tender area on my back and froze.

"No," I whispered in a soft panic.

I frantically got to my feet and ripped the jacket off my body. Investigating further, I found that the entire back of the worn leather ripped in half with blood drenched frayed threads falling out of the rip. I let out a strangled sounding wail.

My eyes snapped to the one wolf, now unclothed boy who lay on the damp ground covered in dirt and twigs. He looked up at me with pure fear in his eyes and I answered the gaze with my own irate fury. The vehemence of my rage clouded me eyes with red.

"You!" I screamed in a deep voice that didn't seem to come from my own body.

I stalked over the motionless child and picked him up by the skin of his neck. He shook, his body preparing to fight back against my attack. I didn't allow it though, as I threw his body across the small clearing and into a large hemlock tree. The sound of his skin hitting the rough bark of the tree made a wonderful snapping sound. Music to my ears.

"You just ruined my Marc Jacobs's jacket! He gave it to me off his own back at his last spring fashion show in Paris! Do you know how often that happens? Never! It never happens, and you destroyed it, you mutt!" It was a little known fact that Marc was a retired agent. Although it was known by all that no one touched his jacket. There was hell to pay, and I was about to deliver.

"Hey bloodsucker, over here!" Shouted one of the boys.

I dropped my clenched fist immediately at the words. I sighed and creased my forehead with a hand, trying to push away the animosity I was feeling for these wolves. With one more deep breath I refocused my eyes on the pack.

Some were on the ground crouched in low positions ready to pounce, while the older and wiser of men defended their ground with crossed arms and heavy eyes. A few went to help the boy who I had thrown up against the tree, his quiet sobs confirmed that I had indeed broken something; he would get over it.

"Enough!" I yelled over the growls that erupted from their mouths. "I'm not here to kill anyone, and you're making that very hard for me right now, so could you all just shut the hell up for a moment!" I was getting very thwarted with them.

"The cold ones aren't allowed on our land, it doesn't matter if you mean peace or not. Now you've hurt our friend and you must pay for your actions." A man in his mid twenties stepped around the younger boys for the first time and spoke.

"We'll it must be my lucky day then: I'm not a vampire." I pulled the badge that had been wedged into my back pocket and flashed it at the group. "My name is Agent Swan; I'm with the CIA, government agency 007."

"Like Bond, James Bond?" Jacob asked with a small smirk on his face.

"Laugh it up Black, but unlike Bond I don't need a license to kill. It's my right." I snared and his smile faded.

"What are you after then, Agent?" The same older man asked me.

"I'm here undercover as a student at Forks High School, my mission is simple. Search, destroy, and move on. All I need from you is your full and complete cooperation."

"You have it," Jacob said swiftly. I wasn't expecting an actual answer.

"Jacob!" Someone hissed in disapproval.

"Shut up Sam, what is it you're hunting for Swan?" He asked in a hush whisper, as if our conversation was being listened in upon. For all I knew it could have been.

I wiped the last pain ridden tear from my face and turned my back. I didn't have to explain anything to these measly dogs. But I found myself answering the question anyway. "The one thing that can destroy me," I turned my back away from them and in the direction that I had left my car. "Vampires."

Without another glance their way I walked out of the woods in silence.

Finally making it home I locked the front door behind me and slowly leaned down to remove my mud and blood covered boots. Climbing the stairs slowly I dropped my ruined jacked and soon after stripped my wet shirt from my sticky body. Entering my bedroom I pulled my dirt stained pants off and threw them uncaringly into a pile with the rest of my shredded clothes.

I felt my damp hair, which had been drenched from the sudden rain walking out of the forest, ran down my back in large drops that accumulated on the floor leaving a visible wet mark in the carpeting.

I separated the remaining under garments from my form and sighed, relieved to finally be freed from the moist embrace of my destroyed outfit. A single tear escaped by eye as I fingered the long and rough mark that was left to heal on my back, as I made my way into the connecting bathroom.

I gripped the safety bar connected to the shower wall and turned on the water cautiously. I let out a loud shriek that slowly turned into a moan of pain and more tears slowly crept their way out of the corners of my tightly closed eyes. My back tensed as the steaming water picked at my festering wound and I felt sick to my stomach as I heard the damaged and useless dead skin hitting the tiled ground in large bloody strips.

As I started to relax into my position in the shower, I turned my head to catch a glimpse of a pale white hand as it entered the shower and turned the knobs, the showerhead sputtered to a dripping halt, allowing no more water to be emitted.

As the hand disappeared out of the shower I let a long breath that I hadn't noticed I'd been hold, and at a snail like pace opened the glass door to reveal my intruder.


Authors Note:

Hi everyone, I hope your like this chapter. Still working on getting the rest of Agent Death edited, but until then I want you to do a few things. 1.) Check out my NEW website, the link is on my profile. 2.) Check out the clothes and Bella's car which can also be found on my profile. 3.) There will be a short lapse in new chapters for all my stories for the next two to three weeks, because I am going to Tennis Camp (fun right? No.). SO CHECK OUT THE NEW SNEAK PEEK I PUT UP TO MAKE AMENDS ON MY WEBSITE!

Lots of Love

~FP