Deliver Us From Evil
As the wolves led me through the forest on the outskirts of Forks, I found myself observing the way they travelled as a pack. Sam did not take the lead as I had assumed - one of the younger members took point. They were obviously familiar with this course, and I soon recognized they were heading southwest in the general direction of the tribal lands.
They covered ground with a speed equal to most vampires I had run with. I was rather surprised and impressed with this fact. Since I, however, naturally ran at a much faster pace than most of my kind, I had to significantly curb my speed in order to stay with the pack.
I was relieved to note that I was able to bear the ache I had suffered with all day. The stiffness had lifted from my legs; I was grateful, no, ecstatic, to be running. The discomfort was a minor sacrifice when the reward was this exhilarating. Even the anxiousness at the ordeal that awaited me receded with the rush of flying though the night forest.
My internal dialog never stopped. Bella. I'm sorry Bella. I wanted so much to see you tonight, but I need to clear the air with Jacob before I can face you. I love you. Never doubt that. Please forgive my foolish jealousy. Give me another chance. I acted without thinking when I followed you onto the Rez, and I promise you it was not because I mistrusted you. I mistrusted him, but not you, never you.
What am I doing? Here I am putting myself in harm's way – under the thumb of the most unreliable person I can imagine... Stop analyzing, Edward. Just act. Just get through this night. This sacrifice of your pride will solve the problem you've caused. Carlisle never needs to know about this, but at the tribal hearing Friday night, things will go smoothly for you – and for him. He won't have to be ashamed. The shame will all rest on you now, and that's how it should be. Just. Get. Through. It.
I realized I knew the territory we were passing through; we had covered almost 5 miles in about 10 minutes. My brothers and I had hunted here. We were approaching the North side of the reservation border, just above where I had exited on Sunday. I slowed my pace slightly. The wolf nearest me alerted the rest, and the whole pack slowed in unison. Pack telepathy was a blessing for efficiency, but most likely a curse in terms of privacy.
"What are you doing?" The red-brown wolf thought, trying to second guess me, I'm sure. I slowed even more and the pack with me.
"I won't cross the border." I stated.
"You didn't mind so much a week ago," Jacob growled.
"I'm not going to knowingly violate the treaty again, even with your permission."
The pack's intertwined thoughts indicated general amusement. "We won't cross it, but we're heading for a place quite near it."
"Come on," Sam rumbled, and they started to move forward again.
Within minutes we arrived at an open grassy area bordered on three sides by forest, the fourth side a cliff falling at least 50 yards to a stream below. I recognized the stream at the border as the pack came to a halt next to two large oaks, clearly not native to the surrounding forest. Between the oaks and the thick fern-carpeted dimness of Douglas firs, Sitka spruces and red cedars was a small structure, constructed of the wood and bark of the surrounding trees that embraced it.
Three wolves approached the shack. One entered, nosing open the makeshift door. The others stayed outside. The two outside phased into their naked human forms, then took a moment to clothe themselves in the light shorts and shirts they had carried in tight pouches on their legs. One was Jacob, the other unknown to me. A young woman emerged from the shack wearing the same minimal clothing. In one hand was a lit oil lantern, in the other, a knife and a coiled nylon rope.
I was sure the wolves could see quite well by only the silver brightness of the moon. From my medical studies I remembered the anatomy of the canine eye. There were more rods than cones in the retina, giving them less color vision, but better non-color low-light vision. No living creature's night vision rivaled ours, of course, but the canine eye was still a marvelous advantage in the natural world. Human eyes were thick with cones at the retina's center for optimum high-definition color vision. They were severely limited in low light. Without the lantern, the un-phased pack members would have had to depend on the meager available light.
The pack rested on their haunches, alert, in a formation that seemed to reflect rank or chain of command. In a semicircle around us, they were a formidable guard, their large liquid eyes shining copper from the darkness, reflecting the ochre flame of the oil lamp. Not only would they make sure I did not turn on the Quileutes who had taken human form, they would be the witnesses to my humiliation.
"Paul," Jacob said to the youth beside him. He looked older than Jacob, by a few years, his face shadowed by a scowl as he glanced over at me. "The rope." Jacob gestured upwards with his head to the oak canopy above them. "Leah, where's the knife?" He said, taking it from her and walking into the shadows in back of the shack.
Paul used the weight of the coiled rope to arc it high over a thick limb. The ease with which he performed this task again proved that the strength of these creatures was many times that of normal humans, though I doubted it even came close to the strength of my kind. The rope was meant for me. Maybe this was part of their ritual, because it was otherwise ridiculous to think I could be restrained with such a meager tether. I could have broken it with my fingers like string. I doubted even the limb of the ancient oak, as thick as a telephone pole, would hold against me, should I choose to bring it down.
The weight on my chest incrementally increased as I watched their preparations. I had trepidation, but I did not fear the wolves as much as my own resolve. My pride was fierce, my father had always told me - submission of any kind was never easy for me. I needed to go through with this, for me, for what I owed my father and my family, but that need was no business of these dogs. I would play this role - allow the pack some primitive satisfaction performing this farce - but I didn't need to emote for them. Detachment would be adequate.
I didn't dare to give thought to my privacy issues. I was terrified to be vulnerable or shamed in the presence of my own family – those who loved me. Now I faced a pack of hostile strangers. This would be the greatest sacrifice of all to my pride - the absolute crucifixion of my dignity. But I was determined to lay that on the fire if I had a chance to rectify the damage I had done.
I would not gratify them by making a sound or movement - in the unlikely event that they should actually succeed in hurting me. A vampire had had ten times the strength and endurance of these mutant humans. If I had managed to get through harsh punishment sessions with Carlisle, I could certainly get through this.
Carlisle had told me he admired the strength of my will, especially my ability to deny my most basic desires. I was able to resist human blood because I had decided to do so, like the rest of my family. But Bella was the owner of the blood most personally irresistible to my primitive nature. Carlisle had said that my success in leaving "il mio cantante" alive was unheard of among our kind. Vampires always ended up killing their "singers." They never let sentiment get in the way. It confused me that the strong will for which I was constantly chastised was also a source of pride for my father. It is this ridiculously strong will that brings me here now, binding me to submit to tormentors who could not possibly hold me without my cooperation.
Jacob took the knife from Leah and walked into the darkness under the old trees, his hand brushing each young sapling underneath the towering firs as he wandered among them with purpose.
The rope now in place, Paul gestured to me coldly. "Shoes," he said. The three in human form were barefoot. I slipped off my shoes and socks, tossing them aside.
"Come," he growled as he tied a slipknot in the end of the suspended fetter. My nostrils flared as I approached him, picking up the scent of his sweat. It was more animal than human, missing that distinctive acrid undertone so characteristic of human fear. His muscles were tensed, and as so many of them did the first time they came in contact with one of us, he took a step back with a combination of disgust and wariness on his bronzed features. "Shirt," he ordered.
As unused as I was to taking directives from anyone other than Carlisle, I complied without hesitation, without expression. I suppressed the impulse to react in arrogance or display embarrassment. They may shame me, but they will not have the satisfaction of seeing me suffer from it.
I removed my shirt, tossing the expensive linen aside carelessly as if it were no more than an old t-shirt. I put my wrists together in front of me and offered them, almost defiantly, facilitating what he had not yet requested aloud, having gleaned direction directly from his thoughts. He hesitated, unnerved at my unexpected acquiescence, then cautiously slipped the loop over my wrists and tightened it. I looked at him directly. He met my eyes briefly, but though I followed him with my gaze, he never met it again.
His thoughts were a mix of confusion and apprehension, which he tried to mask with anger. Based on instinct he was convincing himself I was a perilous enemy, though my presence before him gave no evidence that I was dangerous. He was very concerned that the pack should not see him falter or show fear. He was desperately trying to depersonalize me, thinking of me as one would a vicious, wild animal who must be dispatched. He made a few more loops and knots, firmly securing the bond. He brushed my hand with his, just once, and recoiled mentally. I smiled to myself as I noticed how he made every effort not to touch my skin again.
Backing away from me, he grasped the opposite end of the rope and pulled it taut, raising my arms above my head. He secured that end to a low branch on the oak, then stood back to critically observe his finished work and wait for Jacob's order.
Jacob emerged from the woods, carrying a few green branches of varying length and thickness. Leah mounted the lantern on an outcropping of broken branch on the oak's trunk. Jacob leaned, almost casually, against the sprawling old tree, proceeding to whittle them smooth in the amber, wavering light of the flame. The thinnest was perhaps three-quarters inch in diameter at the base, the thickest was no more than an inch, both tapering to fine, but tough, tendrils at the tips. The knife had not been the perfect tool to cut branches, thus the cut ends appeared ragged, gnawed.
Leah approached me. She observed the rope and the knots, then met my eyes directly. I held her gaze, tapping into her mind at the same time. She was more fearless than the males. There was an evident strength about her, that strength reinforced with a strain of hatred that overshadowed any I had seen in the eyes of the males, even Jacob. I was taken aback by the violence of her thoughts, so unlike other human females I had observed. This female was not one of the "gentler sex." She was a warrior; that's how she saw herself. I was surprised to see there was no fear in her thoughts, which was foolhardy but somehow understandable. Bravery is not the wisest of attributes.
"You really think these ropes will hold?" she asked Jacob, never breaking eye contact with me.
"They'll hold as long as they need to," he responded dismissively.
She came even closer to me, taking in my scent with short, soft inhalations. She did not, like the others, display the dramatic disgust at my vampire smell. She had more self-possession than the males; no hesitancy or weakness showed inward in her mind or outward in her demeanor. She's more wild than the males. Less attached to her humanity.
To my surprise, the same time she had the thought, she acted on it – this woman certainly did not look before she leaped. She put her face so close to mine our cheeks brushed slightly. I inhaled sharply. The vibrant heat radiating from her was the very definition of "alive" in its contrast to the glacial coolness of my unliving face.
I shivered involuntarily, off-balance that a rather more intimate part of my body awoke in response to her touch. I was not accustomed to being physically close to any woman except Bella. I felt no desire for Leah, she wasn't even beautiful to me, but my body responded unconsciously to this lone wolf-woman who kept the company of men. She withdrew her cheek, and I realized I had been holding my breath. I took the opportunity to exhale.
She circled me, examining me cautiously as the alien creature I was to her. Rather than think of her behavior as humanly impertinent, I viewed it as more animal in nature, therefore expected and justified. Unapologetic curiosity used as a survival tool. Respect mixed with awe.
The expanse of exposed skin on my bare back must have only increased the dramatic visual impact of my paleness in comparison to the tawny earth tones of her own skin. Ghostly and surreal, my whiteness made me even more of a monster to her.
Jacob finished his work on the green-branch switches, running his hands along their length to confirm their flexibility and strength. Traces of the tiny branches he had removed made the surface uneven. I suspected my flesh would taste every subtle imperfection.
"A creature like this won't even feel that," she said to him. To her I didn't even warrant a human pronoun.
"Trust me," he smiled wryly. "They feel more than you think." He met my eyes with a smug expression. Yes, he had obviously been briefed on some of the physical idiosyncracies of our kind. My confidence faltered slightly to think I had lost any advantage – especially the one of knowledge over ignorance.
Though our flesh felt hard as stone to human hands, this did not mean that flesh was unfeeling. In fact, the sensations of touch, painful or pleasurable, were as enhanced as our other senses. Our sight, hearing, smell and taste were just as amplified, if not more so, than the wolves' senses. Over-stimulation of these senses could be torture. In fact, a lot of the disorientation experienced by newborn vampires could be attributed to their unfamiliarity with these distracting new intensities.
Pain is merely the body's alarm to prevent injury. If one already knows one will heal quickly and that pain does not signal a significant threat to the safety of the body, the pain threshold is effectively raised. When Carlisle applied corporal punishment, he carefully amplified his force, knowing our pain thresholds were high. If he did not pass that threshold, the punishment would be ineffective. Carlisle's whippings could in no way be disregarded. As I had experienced today, their effect lasted for quite a while before our bodies healed.
Leah moved closer to me again, as I felt her feverish warmth on the skin of my back. Her fingertips lightly skimmed under my shoulder blades, individual coals leaving a scorched trail of sensation as her hands moved symmetrically inward to the muscles around my spine, pressing more firmly as she explored down to my hips with her smoldering touch. It was the incendiary presence of her fingers as they casually lighted that caused my breathing to become irregular. Her thoughts told me she was contrasting polished texture with unyielding substance, lost in wonder at the contradiction of nature in front of her.
Her arms moved to encircle my waist, but she intended no embrace. With confident movements she arranged a piece of buckskin around my hips, fastening it tightly in the back. She slid her hands underneath the simple loincloth to find the buttons of my jeans. Really Jacob? Is this necessary? Releasing them, she slipped her palms inside the waistband of my underwear and began to guide the garments down my hips and thighs. If my heart were capable of beating, it would have been audible at this point. Not only had this woman stripped me of my confidence and unbalanced my logical mind, she had now made the metaphors literal.
Which parts of these proceedings were actually written in tradition and which were merely Jacob's desire to humiliate me, I could only guess, but I had no doubt he was taking liberal advantage of the situation. I can call a halt to this nonsense at any time, but of course he will view it as cowardice. It doesn't matter. Anything the dogs can dish out, I can take. It will be over soon.
Leah lowered my clothing to the ground, removing one leg at a time with her burning hands. I inadvertently pulled against the rope around my wrists, causing the synthetic fibers to stretch almost to breaking, and the limb of the oak above to creak slightly. I had no doubt I could break the rope, but as yet, that was not my intention. I knew I could bear this, and more. I would let Jacob go further, indulging his illusion of control, hopefully reaching his own stopping point before I had to call a halt by resisting.
Finally, Leah reached up from behind me, placing a soft buckskin rag over my eyes, tying the ends securely behind my head. They meant to remove another advantage - my sight. They must not realize that as long as I could read their minds, I could not be blinded. Still, the psychological manipulation of it did not escape me. I was being rendered as powerless as possible.
"Paul!" Jacob ordered. Through his eyes I saw him gauge the tautness of the rope as he and Paul both pulled on it. They stopped when my arms were stretched to full extension, actually lifting my heels from the ground slightly so my weight rested only on the balls of my feet. If the intention was to handicap my balance, it succeeded. A vague unease settled on me as my muscles adjusted to the awkward position, but I bit back my emotions and made no protest.
I could tell by his scent alone Jacob was a few feet in front of me. When he started to speak, I could tell he was facing away from me. As he addressed the pack, his voice was measured, taking on a tone both solemn and authoritative. For the first time, I heard evidence of the Alpha he had been born to be.
"Haĉh-awí. I am Jacob, son of William Black, Quilaute chief, grandson of Ephraim Black, Quilaute chief, of the Quilaute tribe. I am descended in blood and spirit from the wolves that protect the true people of this tribe from Chita-kíd-o, the cold ones."
A low rumbling sound began to rise all around me. I tried to tune in to the thoughts of the pack, and was surprised to find incoherency, a lack of language - what I found in the animals I hunted. The rumblings undulated and grew into growls that were differentiated by pitch. Soft yelping replaced a few of the growls, and yelps expanded into soft howls. The howling moved in rising waves through the pack, each wave a crescendo, building in volume and intensity to an alarming swell. The night around me was filled with a wall of feral sound. It was the presence of the pack, awesome in its wildness, its number, its consummate unity.
As suddenly as it had begun, as if a conductor's baton had signaleddecrescendo, the wolves' wild chorus disintegrated into silence. Jacob spoke again.
"This Hó-kwat of the enemy clan of Cullen has been accused and has confessed to the crime of stalking," the response of growls clearly expressed outrage, "defined in Quilaute law as 'poisoned love.' This crime was against me, therefore I exercise my right to administer the penalty defined in tribal law. The Hó-kwat will be punished in the presence of the tribe, confronted by the one he has offended, until, as described in the law, the offended party is satisfied, and the face of evil intention has turned away."
There were responding growls throughout the ranks.
My pride was already numb, though my body, regretfully, was not. My sense of modesty, so ingrained since human childhood a hundred years ago, seemed suspended. The sensation of viewing myself from the eyes of others as I entered their thoughts was already disorienting, making me feel as if I had left my body. I felt caught up in some sort of archetypal drama destined to be played out.
I felt his proximity; Jacob's scent was strong in front of me. I could feel and smell his over-heated breath from where he stood. I felt the thick switch, rigid and cool, pressed against my lower abdomen, just below my navel. He applied pressure with both hands, pushing my half-suspended body back an inch or so, the balls of my feet leaving the ground for a brief moment. I searched for the ground with my toes, and though I quickly found it, realized my balance was indeed tenuous. Another thing I realized with this simple gesture was that Jacob's physical strength was considerably more than I had anticipated. Those branches were substantial in weight, but he handled them as if they were mere twigs.
He stepped back from me, and proceeded to circle behind me. I swallowed, a remnant of a human reaction to uncertainty, as I prepared myself mentally for the first blow.
"You're a fool, Cullen," he murmured.
I heard his intake of breath half a second before I heard the scourge slice the air. A searing band of raw sensation cut horizontally across my back, just above my waist.
The world around me went away as my mind processed and my body experienced the pain, resisting it, yet drawing it closer to assess the damage.
When I faded back in, it was to the thoughts of the curious wolves, the individual voices unidentifiable to me. Some thoughts had tones of outrage, some of wonder.
"That didn't hurt him!" "It didn't leave a mark!"
Leah murmured, "Hmmm…No reaction."
Jacob's voice was flat in response to Leah's comment. "He felt it. Trust me."
"No blood, no welts," reasoned Leah.
"Yeah," said Jacob. "But that doesn't mean they're immune to pain."
"This is wrong. We should not be doing this. The elders would not approve." It was ayoung voice, almost drowned out by the others' noise.
"You ready for more, bloodsucker?" Jacob baited me in his head. "Think you can take it?" He had taken my own sight with the blindfold, but I could see through his eyes - but only as his brain interpreted what was before them. I saw my naked back, as he mentally took aim.
The rod came down with a loud crack on my lower back, right above the tied strip of deerskin, the green bough flexing at the curve of my hip with the force of the impact, the thin tip wrapping around to bite the flesh of my side. I took in a sharp breath, held it, but succeeded in making no other sound.
Can't let them see…hear…know… that I feel…
Jacob was hardening his resolve. He was convinced the strokes were affecting me even if the others present did not. He allowed his tightly leashed hatred to animate his limbs as he prepared his assault. He struck again, this time my upper back, then backhanded another stroke, crossing the previous one. I groaned inwardly, but allowed no expression to cross my features, no hint of complaint or discomfort to exit my lips.
He circled me, pacing slowly.
How many times had I been down this path with Carlisle, keeping silent by sheer force of will as he administered punishment? My ersatz, but worthy, father had always known my game, knew how long to persist until he bent my iron pride. Carlisle drew an intimidating line, never letting up until I willingly crossed it, to surrender to a will not my own, to set me free of the tyranny of my obsessive, immature mind. Carlisle pushed until I broke down - in tears or otherwise – showing a sign of relinquishing my pride and guilt.
But I was not in the hands of my forgiving father now. This boy was quite literally, my "mortal" enemy. Pride was his demon too, and that likeness was probably the basis of the instinctive hatred between us. I could not believe Jacob's true intent was to destroy me, only to assuage his bitterness over Bella. I did not believe Jacob to be evil. I felt sorry for him that she had not chosen him, yet I thanked everything that is that she HAD chosen me.
Jacob's aggression was fed as he reveled in the physical and psychological abasement of a being he clearly envied. Visual snippets of the extremes of hurt and humiliation he would dearly love to inflict upon me flashed through his mind, and I was reminded of a thousand daydreams in which I captured him, fed off him, then removed all traces of him from this earth.
Jacob taunted me. "If you're going to invade my head, I should at least make it worth your while!" He knew I was listening, knew his thoughts injured me as deeply as the carefully aimed weapon in his hand. Out of his wolf form, his thoughts were contained in his own head, not shared with the pack or the other two humans. The depth of his vituperation was private from everyone but me, so he let the poison stream of his grudge flow to me unrestrained on our private psychic line.
He's hotheaded and immature. His emotions rule him. Is that how others see me, I wonder? Are we alike in those respects? How awful. One thing is for sure, though - what he is doing now to me, I would never do to him.
The pain of the blows was not slight, but I had felt worse in the past. The muscles of my back throbbed, mixed with stinging where the tip had bitten my skin. My body showed no marks, as a blood-filled human body would, but the pain was no less than a human would feel. The dull ache from the morning was re-awakened, adding yet another layer of affliction.
I saw the intention of the next two strokes before he delivered them, in quick succession, on either side of my ribcage. My breath caught. I closed my mind momentarily to focus on governing the pain, so I did not anticipate the next blow. It landed hard on my front abdomen, below my navel, knocking the breath from my lungs as my diaphragm contracted. Ugh... that was literally below the belt, you little shit… My reaction, the first he had detected, energized him.
There was nothing but the censure of the pack to stop him from going beyond the bounds of morality and fair play, and they weren't particularly concerned about normal rules when applied to monsters. That is how they seemed to view me. I was a thing, not a person. All but Jacob. He viewed this non-person very personally.
"What are you doing, Jacob?" Sam's inner voice filtered through the murmuring wolf thoughts. Sam, not so ruled by his emotions, did not seem to be comfortable with Jacob's emotional excesses. It wasn't quite mercy, but Sam seemed to have a maturity that allowed him to objectify me less.
"I am within my rights," thought Jacob defensively. He couldn't hear Sam telepathically, but despite his renegade bravado, he intuited his Alpha's dissent.
Jacob landed another wild strike to my abdomen, just above the last one. My toes pushed up on point on the ground. Again, my reaction fueled him.
The blows came faster now, re-striking areas already sore and stinging. My breathing was labored; soft moans came up unbidden and I did not stop them. The persistent pain pushed me towards a tipping point. Self-pity flared, and my composure faltered.
I was wrong. How could I have thought this would solve anything? Carlisle can never know I allowed Jacob to take advantage of me in this way. Never. I couldn't face him. He would be so ashamed of me – as ashamed as he is that I broke the treaty. Me, of all people. Me! He put so much trust in me. I have failed my leader, my father, my friend – and myself. I am stupid and weak, fatally flawed and unfixable! I am not fit to stand next to Carlisle.
All thought was occluded by my doubt and disgust. I could not spare the focus to read their minds. The demands upon my battered nerve endings filled every remaining space in my brain. There was no Jacob, no wolves, not even an Edward. The wilderness of my self-imposed misery enveloped me, and I pulled away within myself to try to escape as the pain closed in.
What had occurred that morning in that terrible session with Carlisle, when lack of control became panic – mercifully occurred again. I felt myself withdraw from the immediate sensations of my body to a place objective, removed, observational. I had disassociated again, my mind refusing to deal with my body's present distress. The babblings of my mind became muted, then ceased; No other thoughts invaded that silence. My mind went numb, as my body anesthetized itself against trauma.
Carlisle face and scent flashed through my consciousness, and I longed for his assurance, both mental and physical. However, some remnant of my logical mind reminded me, I had chosen to put myself outside my father's dominion, and what I bore, I would bear alone to be worthy of his name.
The jealousy, the rivalry, has to stop. It has hurt everyone I love, including Bella. I have to forgive Jacob, then somehow forgive myself. It doesn't matter if he doesn't forgive me back. I will make the first gesture. It's what Carlisle would do. I've come this far, I might as well finish. I will forgive him.
The blows ceased. "What's with the light?" Jacob said.
That's all it took to usher me gasping back to reality. Entering Jacob's mind again, I could see through his eyes that the lantern glowed dimly, the flame low. Seeing through his human eyes, my vision was also limited.
"No more oil," Leah responded.
"Doesn't matter. We don't need it," he growled.
He delivered two more strokes, the hardest yet, to my mid back. I arched my spine with each one, groaning.
"Enough!" Sam commanded. "The pack is satisfied the sentence has been carried out according to the law."
Through Jacob's eyes I saw Sam stand. Through Jacob's mind, I knew Jacob understood Sam's wordless displeasure. "Where are you going?" Jacob said to Sam.
Sam turned to the pack. "Fall back into the forest." The wolves rose from their ranks, and began moving towards the trees.
"I am not yet satisfied," Jacob said to Sam, squaring his shoulders defensively. "You have to stay," sulked Jacob, "to guard, to witness."
"No," Sam conveyed to the pack. "This cold one will not hurt Jacob. We will stay close by, but we will witness no more under the excuse of tribal justice."
Sam turned as he walked away, gesturing with his head to Leah and Paul. "Coming?" he thought. Though they could not hear his thoughts in their human forms, they seemed to understand their Alpha's intentions.
Without hesitation, Paul loped towards the trees behind the retreating pack, phasing and blending into their numbers. Leah however, did not move to follow.
"I choose to stay," she stated. I tuned in to her thoughts, which were intensely, almost painfully emotional and strangely non-verbal. Underneath I sensed her fierce passion for Sam, but seething resentment too. I felt her rebellion towards him as her Alpha, but her inability to disobey him. Uppermost in her mind was her loyalty to Jacob then a loathing and derision for me, the perceived enemy.
"As you wish," Sam allowed as he merged into the darkness with the pack.
I watched from her mind as she approached me. There was still not a trace of healthy fear in her, even though she and Jacob were now alone with me.
As she observed me, still blind and bound, her perception was of a creature - disgusting by its very nature and hideous in its ugliness, yet irresistibly fascinating. She stood behind me, raising her hands parallel to but not touching the skin of my back. Again, the furnace heat of her body radiated onto my too-cold flesh. I shuddered at the contrast. Her touch burned me, but I craved more. She pressed her fingers into my back at the location of Jacob's last blow, apparently memorized because there was no stripe to indicate the location. I gasped as she pressed, intensifying the pain already nesting there under my skin. She smiled to herself, a "doubting Thomas" needing to touch the wounds to finally convince herself of the effectiveness of the natural scourge on my unnatural frame.
Without the lantern light and the presence of the pack, the night suddenly seemed extraordinarily empty. The breeze held its breath; the night sounds of the forest seemed suspended in muted anticipation.
Jacob approached me from behind. I saw the image of the knife in his hand, heard his intention to cut the rope. He stepped behind me, leaning in close, easily reaching with both long arms to press the blade to the cord. But he did not cut. He lowered his right arm, letting the blade drag lightly across the back of my neck.
"The bearer of poisoned love, that's what you truly are," he growled behind clenched teeth. "You've trespassed on more than my land, and my mind, you have seduced my Bella as you seduce your prey, poisoned her against me, the mate nature intended for her. You've violated not only tribal law but the laws of nature.
"I would say you deserve to die, but, that's a done deal, isn't it Dead Boy? What you can really offer her? It certainly isn't life, is it? She will lose her life. You intend to kill her. You will change her into the horror you are. You hate what you are, but you will make her the same? Your 'feelings' for her are nothing but 'hunger.' That is not love; that is need. The word 'monster' doesn't even come close to describing the curse you are."
He paused, then hissed a single word into my ear, "Murderer!"
The skin of my back burned furiously, but my brain burned hotter with the echoes of his accusations. "You intend to kill her… Murderer…"
I will never make anything right again. I have betrayed my father and my family and in the end, I will be forced to betray my Bella too. It doesn't matter that it will her choice to be turned. I am still a murderer. I wish Jacob could kill me. When I thought Bella was dead, I wanted to die. I know now that she is alive, and I know I should die - to keep her alive.
He still toyed with the blade against the skin of my neck. "I know you don't bleed. I wonder what would happen if…" he applied pressure to the point of the blade. It did not cut my tough skin. "Interesting," he mused, "I'm sure you know the damage this blade could do to one of us…though we heal pretty quickly too…" I suffered his gloating as he exercised his control over me. But his dominance was an illusion. I could free my hands and bite through his spine before he had the chance to use the knife, not that it could do much damage to me that wouldn't heal.
Jacob tensed. Through his eyes, I saw a light-colored wolf hurtling at him from the woods. I felt a dull pain in my wrists, a jerk, a snap, and I lost Jacob's thoughts. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, my mouth full of dirt. I heard a human shout of anger, then a scuffle, then growls. I pulled the blindfold off clumsily with my tied hands. With my own night vision restored, I clearly saw Leah running in the direction the pack had taken, phasing as she disappeared into the trees. The scent of wolf was strong around me, and I turned at the sound of growls behind me. Two wolves circled each other to my right, teeth bared. One was definitely Jacob, but the other, smaller, thinner one I did not know.
"Seth! This is none of your business!" Jacob snarled at the challenger.
"You've gone too far! Both of you!" Seth shouted telepathically. It was the youthful voice I had heard amongst the babble of the pack earlier. "Our fathers would not accept this behavior! You know that!"
"Get back to the pack!" Jacob warned. "Before I do something I'll regret."
"Stop Jacob! You can't kill this one! It will be war! Stop now!"
Jacob leaped at Seth, hitting him hard in the shoulder, causing the young one to yelp. They tumbled once, then stopped, panting, the larger, stronger wolf standing dominating the smaller cowering one.
"Sam's pissed at you!" Seth said.
Jacob backed away from Seth, never taking his eyes off the young one, a low guttural rumble coming from him that vibrated the very ground underneath us.
"Sam knows I'm not going to kill him, you stupid pup! I was just making him show some respect!"
Jacob grasped my shoulder with his teeth, and started to drag me. Seth remained in a low cowering position, but began to creep forward along the ground.
I suddenly realized Jacob was pulling me towards the edge of the cliff. I strained at the rope around my wrists, breaking it to release my hands. I grabbed at Jacob's head, grabbing handfuls of fur and twisting. I didn't want to hurt him badly, I held back, just trying to make him let go. He growled angrily, but he would not release his hold. I was still somewhat disoriented, but clarity was descending fast. He dragged me to the edge, and I could hear the stream below as I reached upwards, the heel of my open palm connecting hard with his snout. I heard a crack, then a whimper, and he let go of me. I moved with vampire speed out of his range, backing away from the cliff.
"Son of a-" I heard Jacob raging at me, as a blur of sand-coloured fur hurled itself at Jacob, knocking him off balance. The biting and snarling went on until Jacob threw Seth off of him. They both stood up, panting, shaking themselves.
"You are as irritating as your crazy sister…" Jacob complained to Seth, the anger now gone from his inner voice.
"Love you too, bro!" Seth said. He turned to me. "Go, Edward."
I limped back over to the oak tree, collecting my soiled, discarded clothes. Every muscle ached. I'm bruised from my neck to my knees. I put them on as quickly as I could.
The russet wolf approached me. I looked up at him from where I painfully knelt, tying my shoes. "This is the end of it, then." I said. "You and your pack will keep your promise."
He snorted. "Yes. Just stay off our damn land."
"I will respect the boundaries of the treaty in future," I said humbly.
"You'd better," he scoffed. He turned tail and took off into the darkness to join the pack.
I pulled my cell phone from my jeans pocket. The satellite time read eleven fifty-five. Oh God, the shit just gets deeper. One text message from Bella. Nothing from Carlisle - yet.
I took my bearings and set off at a run towards Forks. I proceeded at half my usual speed; every movement was excruciating.
This is going to take a lot longer than I planned, and it is almost twelve o'clock now. Should I stop and try to call Carlisle? Not a good idea. What could I say without lying? He is NOT going to accept lateness on top of everything else. Maybe I should go straight home and say I had to come home on foot because I had car trouble? With my luck this past week, if I tried to lie, I'm sure it would backfire and I'd get the strap again. But I can't tell him the truth, can I? He said that if I violate this grounding I will get the punishment I deserve. I can't take any more!
I finally reached the crest of the last hill before descending into Forks. The lights of the town spread east as far as I could see. Bella's house was very near. I stopped to check my phone. Twelve twenty two. No more messages.
Can you say "Bad karma"? Leave it to me to set a new record! Looks like I'm gonna get three whippings in one 24-hour period!
There was no point in rushing now. It was a done deal. My head was on the block yet again. As I approached Bella's house, I looked longingly at her back bedroom windows. I wouldn't be seeing the inside of her room for a very long time. I imagined her there, warm in her tiny bed, missing me, hopefully, as much as I missed her.
As I stepped into the street in front of her house, I turned to the right to walk down the road to my car. I heard his voice in my head at the same moment I realized - my car was gone.
"Let's see now, what's the colloquial phrase?… Ah, yes - "Your ass is mine!"
There was a black Mercedes parked where my car had been, and leaning against the trunk, legs crossed casually as if he was just there to enjoy the stars on this rare clear night in Forks, was Carlisle.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Had he been in my place, and I in his, though I hated him with a hatred that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against him. You may look incredulous, if you please! I never would have banished him from her society, as long as she desired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out, and drunk his blood! But, till then, if you don't believe me, you don't know me - till then, I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair of his head!" -Heathcliff, Wuthering Heights
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Key to the actual Quileute language words Jacob uses:
Haĉh-awí = good night/good evening. Chita-kíd-o = a killer. Hó-kwat = a non-Indian.
Trespass Chapter 7 99
