The Call

Chapter Four

Seth had fallen into a routine of sorts in the week I'd been there. He'd be gone at either school or a friend's house all day, come home just in time for dinner, then lock himself in his room or leave again. It was obvious he was trying to avoid me, yet when we ate, his dark gaze hardly ever left me. Tonight, however, I was leaving for Seattle. Tomorrow I would be appearing on the morning show, and I didn't want to look run down by waiting to drive there until early in the morning. Instead, I headed out shortly after Seth had excused himself from dinner, and drove as quickly as I could to Alisha's hotel (where I'd be spending the rest of my night). "Don't get too comfortable," she teased as I flopped onto the couch and covered up, "tomorrow you're sleeping in your own room, Madam Blanc."

"Mrs. White," I scoffed. "Is that the best you could do, or were you playing Clue online again?"

Alisha laughed happily, clearly glad I was back – at least for a few days. "A bit of both." I rolled my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips, before burying my head firmly in my pillow. "Remind me next time not to let you pick out the alias," I muttered as I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to claim me.

The next day was hectic, and crazy, and literally the reason I hated doing what I did. No matter how early you got up, you were always late – a lesson I learned from day one. This Monday morning was no exception. I arrived at the studio fifteen minutes early just to try on countless outfits, only for Lucas Rochester to come in at the last second and veto anything I'd placed in the maybe pile. "Wear this," he snapped, his pudgy hands throwing a garment bag at me. "You've just been signed as a clothing labels spokesperson, and this is your first of ten appearances in their apparel."

"Since when," I nearly growled. "You know I don't do promotions for anything other than my products or things I actually like. This," I continued, opening the bag, "is translucent with rhinestones."

"It's eye-catching," he countered with a sneer.

"It's inappropriate for a family morning show," I all but screeched. "For fuck's sake, I've seen strippers with better taste!"

"You're wearing it, or you'll face the full legal repercussions," he snarled before marching off. I wanted to kill him at the moment, I know I did. I felt as if my very veins were freezing and my body was simply falling away from me. "Issy," Alisha cried out, her hand smacking me acrossed the face. I blinked a few times, returning to myself and wondering where she'd come from, while she sighed in relief. "I've been calling your name for almost ten minutes. Why aren't you dressed?"

"Rochester signed me to a clothing line," I replied. "Apparently I have to wear that," I nodded towards the see-through garment as it sparkled on the floor, "or go to court."

"You have to wear that," she double checked, unable to hide her distaste, "or something from their line?"

"What's the difference?"

"Leave it to me," she replied, throwing a white robe at me to cover my undergarments. "You need to go to hair and makeup, now. By the time you get back I'll have something suitable, don't worry." For the second time since we'd arrived in Seattle, I hugged her. "Thank you," I gushed.

"That's what managers are for," she said, pushing me towards the door, "solving one crisis at a time."

Hair and makeup was a flurry of movements. I made my wishes known, that I wanted my hair down and curled and my makeup subtle and understated. Then I closed my eyes and did my best to block them all out. 'I'm on a deserted island,' I told myself. 'I'm surrounded by water, and peace, and…Seth?' My eyes snapped open, my head moving slightly to the left as the people around me declared me finished. Still, I gazed into the background, so certain that I'd felt his presence here – but how? Why would I? He was in La Push, right? No, it turned out. The second time I looked around, I saw him just entering the room, security personnel trailing after him.

"You can't be back here, sir," a fit man in his early thirties was saying firmly. "This is private –"

"It's alright," I defended him, Seth's whole body turned to face me, "he's family." The security guard looked unconvinced, and I bit my lip as Seth breathed deeply. "He's my step brother from my father's second marriage. He's ok."

"He needs a pass," he scolded, still looking at Seth oddly.

"Yes, well, I didn't think he'd be coming honestly," I smiled sweetly. "Could you be a dear and get him one?" He looked like he was going to refuse, but Seth glared, and he scurried off, nearly tripping on his own feet. "What are you doing here," I asked softly, curiously.

"You left."

"I had an appearance," I countered, walking back to my dressing room with Seth right behind me. "Mom told me," he admitted, "but you were too far away. I couldn't feel you anymore, and –"

"Wait," I stopped him, ushered him into the dressing room and closed the door behind us, "you couldn't what anymore?"

"It's not important," he waved me off.

"It is," I insisted, slipping the robe off and picked up the outfit Alisha had worked out for me. It wasn't my usually style (especially for winter in Washington), but it would work for an inside performance, and it was way better than Rochester's choice. I quickly checked the clothing labels and they were all from the same company, meeting the legal obligation the company owner had put upon me. "Before you got here, I could have sworn I –"

"You, what, Bella?" His eyes were nervous and desperate at the same time as I gazed at his reflection in the mirror. I didn't answer immediately. Instead I chose to stall by getting dressed, slipping on the loose white knee shirt, and yellow tank top and slipped the translucent rhinestone top Rochester had given me over that. I looked over my shoe options and settled on the yellow cowboy boots. Distraction over, I had no choice but to answer Seth. I sighed hesitantly, not sure if this was a banshee thing or something else, but he just seemed like he needed to hear it so badly I ached for him. "Before you entered the room," I started, "maybe by a minute or two, I thought I felt you there." A soft 'Bella' fell from his lips, followed quickly by a 'Thank, God,' and I swallowed nervously. "It was strong enough, Seth, that I was looking for you before you actually entered the room." Again he sighed out my name, his shoulders drooping as relief visibly coursed through him. "You know what this is," I accused, my eyes narrowing. "Tell me."

"I don't know exactly what it is," he started.

"But you do know something, don't you?" He nodded hesitantly, opening his mouth to speak when a knock sounded at my door. "Five minutes, Isabella," the floor coordinator called out before walking away. I cursed under my breath. "Look, I have to get out there for a mic check before we go live. Wait for me here?" Seth smiled, which must have been contagious, as I found myself truly smiling back at him. "I'll take you to lunch, get you some clothes, and then we'll get settle in our hotel room."

"Our room," he questioned, a mischievous glint entering his eyes.

"I'm stay in the city for three or four days, unless Sue wants to drive all the way up here to get you, you're stuck with me. Speaking of your mom, my cell is in my purse," I told him firmly. "Call her, or at least Charlie. Let them know you're safe." I waited for him to agree, then rushed out of the room to the small stage they had set up for me. The floor coordinator went over my song list and did final mic and instrument checks. Before I knew it, not only had the show started, but I was being called on stage. The cheer of the crowd undid all the bad things that had happened that morning, and I greeted my fans sincerely. "My fans everywhere are incredible," I told them, "but it's wonderful to be back home in Washington." Throughout the program I ended up singing six songs off and on (normally as they were going to commercial breaks until they came back from them. Then as the show was ending, I was asked to sing my current release as the day's sign off song. It was as dance song and I was getting tired of the stage, so in a split second decision, I hopped down and started singing amongst the audience (I even twirled a few times with a couple of them). Of course that was quickly followed by signing autographs, which took maybe another hour, before I could finally get back to Seth.

He was still on the phone when I entered, so I went about removing my makeup, and redressing in my own clothes. I was so use to doing this in front of Alisha, I honestly didn't give it a seconded thought until I glanced at his reflection in the mirror. "Bye, mom," he said sharply, hanging up and all but stalking over to me. "Do you like torturing me, Bella," his voice growled out, deep and husky.

"I don't know-"

"You're parading around here practically naked, when you know how much I want you." His words seemed to surround me, cocooning me in a haze of desire. His lips trailed up my neck, his hands encircled my waist and moved upwards towards my breasts. He was about to groped them through my shirt, when he suddenly jerked away from me.

"Lunch time," Alisha called as she floated into the room. "The limo is waiting for us downstairs to take us back to my hotel. Your things are currently in your new room, but your car is still at my hotel."

"Great," I smiled, so glad I didn't blush as much since my change as I once had. "Alisha, this is my step brother, Seth. Seth, this is-"

"Alisha Banks," she said with a nodded. "Bella is free for the rest of the day. Don't forget your 7:30 at the warehouse tomorrow."

"'Couse not," I scoffed. "Seth will be joining us, actually."

"Oh?" I frowned towards her. She sounded way more interested than I would have liked. "In that case you might want to buy something to sleep in," she teased, turning to Seth. "Bella, here, is famous for sleeping in nothing more than her birthday suit." My poor step brother's eyes widened comically, causing Alisha to all but cackle as she walked out.

"Come on," I said, taking his hand as naturally as I once had taken Jacob's, "let's go before she leaves us here."

On the way door towards the limousine, I began to feel a bit light head, but I brushed it off the best I could. It wasn't even a minuet after the car started driving, however, that I nearly cried out as my heart squeezed painfully within my chest. "Bella," Alisha's concerned voice asked, "are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," I forced a smile and made myself lean back in my seat. "It's probably just hunger pains," I teased as best I could, "it has been awhile since I ate."

"Since you –" Alisha's eyes widened with understanding. "Oh, right. Seth," she practically purred, "how about we let the starlet rest after lunch, and I'll show you around?" He looked like he was going to protest; like the very idea of being away from me was hell. (But that's ridiculous, right?) "It's alright," I chimed in. "I usually sleep for an hour or two after a gig since I get up so early. Go out with Ally, see the town. We'll have plenty of time together over the next few days."

"If you're sure," he reluctantly agreed. I assured him I did, that Alisha was more fashion savvy than I'd ever been. At lunch, Seth ate, and ate, and… Geez, I knew teenage boys were supposed to be bottomless pits, but how could he stay so fit? I choked down a half order of chicken caesar salad, and excused myself to catch a cab to my hotel. Once checked in, I locked the door and laid on the bed, freeing my spirit of its earthly flesh. Spirit form was the easiest and safest way to hunt, since my appearance changed to whatever shape my victim wanted me to be. If they were good, death was easy and I appeared more like an angel than a person to them. If they were bad… Let's just say it wasn't pretty and to them, neither was I. There had been a few times when Alisha had called my spirit back to my body before I'd finished feeding (meaning the person was left alive), and in those instances spiritual feeding made certain they'd never recognize my living form. I could feed in my living form as well, but I tended to only do that in desperate times. Not only was it risky, what with cameras and all, there was also the ick factor of holding a corpse in your arms – regardless if I was the one who killed them or not.

Releasing a deep breath, I opened my eyes and looked down at myself lying on the bed. With the knowledge that I was free, I focused on listening to the souls around me until I heard the cry of a desperate woman. It was always a rush hearing people's thoughts and feeling their emotions, but this one had a tint of something familiar to it. I brushed it off as best I could as my body flittered through buildings and people on my way to the source of such despair. She was a pretty woman, at least in a traditional way. She had medium length auburn hair that was pulled in a tight bun that was slipping out of place as she huddled on the floor weeping, her pin-striped skirt bunching up just above her knees, her kitten-heeled shoes half on and half off her feet. Pale, barely tanned hands wiped her tears away, streaking her eyeliner until she mildly resembled a raccoon. It was then, looking into her eyes that I finally recognized her. "No," I whispered softly, even as her sorrows and pain surrounded me, "please no."