[ X ]
The car ride over has been desolate of any real conversation. Greeting had been exchange awkwardly in the beginning, leaving the rest of the twenty minute drive painfully silent. August feels thankful to the vampire for having had the windows cracked open to let the fresh air in making it drown out the strange scents that mingle in the cabin of the European car.
August notices firstly that Edward smells different to the other vampires he had helped the pack exterminate; vampires that had stalked and preyed on humans close to the reservation and nearby areas. Instead of the normal rotten peaches and fairy floss combination, the bronze haired creature smells more like a pound of sugar left too long in the sun; sweet but in a sickly way. He wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that the vampire next to him drinks the blood of animals, rather than that of humans. Most of the pack memories had referred to the Cullen family as 'vegetarians' but in his mind blood was blood; it's source coming from the veins of a living organism, regardless.
Pulling on to the Cullen property, August lets the scenery soak in to his memory banks, noticing first the large iron wrought gate that is embellished with some kind of old family crest, most probably belonging to the coven of vampires. The sprawling collection of trees and overhang huddle the drive before they break; exposing the biggest house he's ever seen in his short life. It's extravagant and almost boastful given the living conditions of the people from towns around the area.
Life and families on the Reservation came from simple beginnings which led to simple ends; small brick houses, tin and timber clad shack structures often adorned of the sprawling areas. But this house - this house was all fabricated steel and glass coupled with grey solid brick, resembling more a modern day castle than a house.
Stopping in the drive August reaches for the latch and steps from the small silver car. He shuts the door gently fearful of breaking something he could not afford to replace nor fix. Even though the car looks like more like a weird spaceship, he knows the brand and had seen it and its prices on countless ads on the TV. Why anyone would pay such a steep price for an unattractive car was beyond him. Cars driven around the Reservarion were often ten years or older and most often than not, a few thousand bucks depending on the condition. Georgie had owned an old Toyota hatch she'd picked up for a five hundred bucks and while the red monstrosity was held together by nothing but rust, the engine was sound making it reliable enough for them to travel to and from the store.
Glancing at the still fountain August stops to admire it and wonders how many years it has sat and been allowed to sit, tree vines and moss covering most of its grey slate structure. Vines creep along the outside of the house as well, beckoning to be let inside and devour the massive steel frame; like a mythical green tentacle bearing demon, knocking against its outer walls. In all truthfulness the house is an eyesore which sticks out painfully from the true beauty of the forest around it. It is out of place, strange and looks like it doesn't belong.
The house is so much like he feels.
"You live here by yourself?" August asks to break the silence, having never ventured to this part of Forks before, the property being much closer to the eastern block rather than close to the central part of the shopping district. He's heard stories of the Cullen's from the other pack members but had been under the belief that none of them still occupied the area. The wolf in him doesn't like the possibility of more of the undead so close to Quileute land and he becomes restless awaiting an answer.
"Yes," the vampire replies smoothly as his hand flexes around the door handle to push it open. "But you get used to it after a while."
August listens and begins to contemplate the social aspects of vampires. The ones which they had torn apart and burned had been solitary or travelled only with few in tow. He's seen them as monsters, creatures of the dead that fed off of the humanity of people and sought to destroy the foundations of life itself. But looking around the home he spots items which could not possibly be translated as monstrous. Pictures in silver frames hang to the white walls. Pictures of moments in time, people dressed in graduation gowns of the local Forks High, of Christmas mornings and of solid loving embraces. He doesn't like the way the vampires in the photos mingle so easily with the humans around them, and had he not been – what – he is, he may have never been able to tell them apart.
"The one in the purple is Rosalie, next to her is her mate Emmett. I think Rosalie would have liked you and Emmett, well, Emmett likes everyone and to all our amazement it's vice versa."
August nods politely as he takes in the photo of the huge burly brown haired male vampire with the infectious smile, and the curvy blonde female with a scowl that could match his – that could match Leah's scowl.
Gesturing to another photo, August's eyes follow the outstretched finger.
"This is Alice and Jasper, also mates. All four are like my siblings as we were all in similar age brackets when we were turned. This one is of Esme and Carlisle, our parents for all intents and purposes."
He studies the photos in earnest, trying to find similarities in all of the vampires but only collectively finding one - their golden eyes. Standing in the living area he feels a sense of comfort mingling with a sense of danger. While the creature in the room is his biological father, he is still the enemy. The thought unsettles him and he wonders what had made him decline Leah's presence and opt to go somewhere with someone he knows nothing about. He has seen Leah's memories but he wonders if her opinion has become biased over the years and perhaps she is merely only showing him what she wants him to see.
"Would you like a tour of the house?" Edward asks smoothly, eliciting only a nod from the young hybrid.
Footsteps are heard around the house as they walk in silence, Edward doing his best to explain the purposes of the rooms and various items inside on occasion; like the statue of a giant lion, a painting of strangely dressed men in olden day costumes. The hallways are long and the count of rooms incredible, though most items are covered with white cloth to keep from dust and insects. Other rooms like the library and music rooms remain used and August senses that Edward has so many things in his undead life that he could recite most of the events through the last century by memory.
"The piano was a gift to Carlisle from an English King he once helped. The King's daughter had becoming gravely ill and Carlisle took it upon himself to heal her until she was strong enough to be in the care of her maids. I acquired it after many many years. I hope one day to give it to you, should you be interested?" Edward smiles as they stand at the lip of the large room, musical instruments covering the grounds surface.
Stuttering, August struggles to find composure but knows he has to decline "Ah thanks - but I don't really have anywhere to put it. Plus I'm more of drum kit kind of guy," he offers truthfully.
"Ahh, I see and I may have just the thing," Edward grins as he steps into the room and pulls away a large sheet on top of a piling. "Emmett shares your same passion and I'm certain he wouldn't mind if you sampled his collection. I believe his inspiration came from watching a rock band in the early eighties and swore black and blue that he needed one to fulfil his life's goals. Needless to say, it was used for a month before he moved on to bigger and better things."
The silver and black shines from each piece of the collection of drums and Augusts mouth hangs slightly agape. It looks more expensive than some of the houses, let alone cars, on the Reservarion and his fingers buzz with electricity as he runs them lightly over the soft hallow tops.
"It's awesome," he breathes in amazement, glancing at the two drum sticks sitting against the leather pouch. "I bet it sounds wicked good but - maybe next time."
"Of course," Edward nods as he covers the drum kit once again. "Would you like anything to drink? I asked a lady in the store what teenagers drank nowadays and I left with a vast variety of options. Juice, energy drinks, some doctor who named a pepper drink-"
"Water's fine. I get kind of hyped up on fizzy drinks and can't sit still."
As Edward exits the room August follows for a moment but decides to wait in the hallway and takes the opportunity to glance at the assorted artworks that hang on the walls. He can tell that they're old with much of the oils chipping close to the edges while the rest of the painting still manages to look fairly cared for.
Making his way to the stairs to head back toward the living room, he spots a door that he does not recognise and figures they must have skipped earlier. Raising his chin he checks the stairs before stepping back toward the door in curiosity. He wonders what could be inside and why Edward felt it was pivotal enough to disregard. Turning the handle slowly and trying to make as least noise as possible, he pushes the handle open and slides inside the room with ease.
The sight in front of him has him speechless and he feels an ache in his chest that hadn't been there before. The room is different than the others and he can tell that more personal touches have been used in the endeavour to decorate it.
Instead of the harsh white colour which the rest of the house burns in, the walls are an off green giving it a lightness which makes the rest of the room pop. A huge dark wood crib sits under the large moulded window; its sheeting consisting of embroidered white and blue striped covers reminding him of a sailing ship. A stained cherry wood dresser holds all kinds of children's clothing ranging in sizes, as well as toys. Even the walls are graced with tiny silver instrumental notes clinging to the paint which look as though they are dancing from the crib and around the room.
Walking over to the crib August picks up the stripped pillow and brushes the material under his palm. It's so soft and light and it makes him slightly dizzy. Lifting the pillow he sniffs it and realises that it is void of any vampiric scent except for one.
Hearing a creak in the floor boards he drops the pillow hurriedly and spins around to find Edward lingering in the doorway, watching him with his burning gold eyes. In an attempt to get away from the crib August accidentally bumps the mobile hanging over it with his elbow, setting off the small device.
Silence no longer fills the room, in its stead, a musical accompaniment begins. Low whispered tones of musical notes fill the air and August feels like he's frozen on the spot and that he really should have minded his own business.
"It's Bach," Edward remarks as he nods toward the mobile while passing August the bottle of water, completely un-phased at the boys presence in the room.
"Prelude no12. I had it made to play classical music - that arrangement specifically. Did you know Bach believed that God could hear him and was closer to him, through his compositions?"
"I'm sorry for barging in here. I thought-"
"It's fine," Edward gestures with a wave of his hand. Slowly he moves toward the dresser and picks up a small antique looking model car to twirl it between his fingers before he sets it back down with a sigh. August knows that it is Edward who has decorated this room - that it's Edward who finds some kind of solace here by holding onto things that obviously could never and had never been.
"Do you believe in God?"
Edward only offers a shrug to the question August has asked.
"If you don't believe in God, why would you put music that was dedicated to Him in a child's room?" August asks, cocking his head to the side and regarding Edward's posture. He is stiff and tense as always but there is fluidity in the way he moves that sets the hairs on the back of his neck alight.
The hairs bristle against a simple gold chain that was given to him by Leah when he first phased. It's cool temperature against his heated skin allows some relief especially with the accompaniment of a thin gold cross which sits just under the hollow of his throat. He himself had always been torn between the beliefs of God in a world full of already so much unbelievable circumstances. Before now, wearing the necklace had only felt like a sign of gratitude toward Leah without any religious ramifications attached, but now the cross feels heavier, tense, as if the metal had suddenly thickened around his neck and hung like a burden.
"All I know is - if there is a God - I am damned because of my inability to believe. But for a child - it remains a choice. Whether to believe in divine beings is a choice we must all make for ourselves and no parent should take that away from a child. To take away choices is to limit them, not only in life but in their own minds."
"So - you really don't believe do you?"
"My mind is still being made up, August. Your creation for instance is not just luck. Perhaps a much superior being played his part to be able to genetically create such a – unique - child as you. But perhaps the extra chromosome both vampires and shape-shifters carry enabled as such. I still do not know."
"How can you not believe when you are subject to the belief of whether or not vampires have a soul? Yours in particular. Believing that you have no soul is one thing, but believing in the foundations of a soul in the first instance would imply belief in Him," August grunts as he leans his weight on one foot, trying to balance his uncertainty away. Georgie, no matter how fucked up her life had gotten, had always been a woman who believed in God. Her faith in the good of people had been so badly tarnished it had amazed August every single day and only proved to him that she was one of the strongest people he knew. She had still believed after so much violence, so much heart break and so much evil around her.
"Huh," Edward frowns "Leah told you about that did she?"
His long thin fingers scratch through the ruffled mess of hair before his golden eyes rise from the floor to meet Augusts.
"She showed me everything. Pack mind remember," he replies as he taps a finger to his temple while simultaneously clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a habit he'd inadvertently picked up from patrolling with Paul.
"I always hoped she would change her mind," he sighs out making August feel suddenly uncertain and unable to look at the bronzed haired male in front of him. "She's a good woman and everything she does is for a reason, whether you understand it or not. A part inside me still hoped she'd bring you back to me, though. This room was something I could be proud of, something I used to hold on to the memory of you."
August swallows deftly but it feels as though it can be heard a mile away. The air is thick and hangs with unsaid words and stolen moments.
"The first day I saw, you took my breath away. You were so small, so defenceless and absolutely perfect. To know that I had helped make you made all the wrongs in my life suddenly less painful. You represented the only thing pure in my world and stood for the one thing I no longer have."
August felt like his throat was closing up and scratchy, but spoke anyway. "Which was?"
"Life, August. It is what I gave you but can never have for myself. Your heart beats just as strong as it had the first time I held you in my arms and walked with you amongst the grounds. When I saw you I knew you were mine and you had me in you. My eyes were once green, the same green as my mother, your real grandmother.
When I look into the mirror I do not see the real me anymore, but when I look at you... into your eyes... I see it. I see the humanity that I once owned and the only real thing I could have given you.
Life"
.
"How's things down at the station? I heard Embry, Quil and my boy ruffled a few feathers the other night" Billy asks, eying his friend carefully over the top of his beer.
The smell of meat cooking and smoke wafts the area around them which allows its thick grey plume to poison the fresh air. The weather has been far from normal the last couple of days; chilling winds and cold fronts seem to be pushing over the majority of Washington, making Forks and LaPush the central point of impact. Cloud cover had been expected indefinitely over the next few weeks; however the chance of rain was relatively slim.
"It was nothing. Just boys being boys," Charlie coughs, waiving around the tongs in front of his face to divert the cloud of smoke.
"Nothing? Sure as Hell didn't look like nothing. Jake came home ranting about how his sisters had blinded him for life and that Embry had the largest feet he'd ever seen."
The old Quileute man chuckles as he takes another sip of cheap brew he and Charlie have always drunk. It feels good though at the same time disheartening to be back at the home his friend shared with Sue. Billy half expects her to step down the porch in all her radiant beauty, mouth lifted up into a smile and sun filtering warmth on her face as it had always done. Somewhere inside, it makes his heart run warmer remembering her stern concerned eyes raking over the both of them each time they'd come in from a fishing trip soaked to the bone from the raging storms that had settled in the area. She'd always been so thoughtful, so receptive to those around her, it seemed unfair that she'd had to suffer towards the end.
Letting out a silent sigh, Billy knows even the toughest, most distant man, i.e. Charlie, could have not resisted and eventually would fall in love with her. He knows the love was different to that which his friend had had with Bella's mother but in ways had been stronger far beyond it.
"Hopefully the warning I gave them all will heed them away from their late night peep shows. When I dropped young Quil home his grandmother held him at least a foot off the ground by his ear. Considering Lucy is five foot nothing, that's one Hell of a feat for the old girl."
"Ah Lucy Ateara, the bane of my existence," Billy hums thoughtfully, remembering the numerous times he's been scolded by old Quil's wife over the years. Even with her being eighteen years his senior she has been a force to be reckoned with, another strong back bone of the now dwindling elders of the Quileute tribe. "You know she actually used to smile instead of grumble?"
Billy laughs as he takes in Charlie's doubtful face, his friends also being privileged to Lucy's - wrath, on a number of occasions. "I don't believe you, Black. You're pulling my leg."
"Do I look like I'd lie to you?" Billy fauns a hurt frown, laying a hand over his wide chest though allowing a shit eating grin to soon follow.
Shaking his head with a smile, Charlie mumbles "I plead the fifth."
"Ahh... Always the diplomat," Billy hums taking another healthy draw of his beer.
The foam settles lightly on his tongue as he lets out a sound of satisfaction, savouring the flavoured hops. Glancing toward the house, he notices a dim lit light coming from one of the upstairs bedrooms. The sun is still out but the darkness of the house highlights the soft yellow glow of the light.
"Young Bella fitting in again alright? You must be glad to have her home?"
"I am," Charlie nods as he places down the tongs on the barbecues side table. Pulling a lawn chair closer, Charlie slumps back into its squeaky frame, his thighs holding tightly to the beer while his hands rub over his slight prickly stubble. "-glad I mean, that she's home. Fitting in, I'm not quite sure."
"Give her time. It's always hard after so long away."
"Billy-" Charlie begins as his face sets in a long hard frown. "- If someone you loved was doing something - something you knew was wrong, something that could hurt a lot of people - would you jeopardise your relationship with them - knowing they might never forgive you?"
Charlie's tone unsettles Billy but he takes it in stride and listens wistfully. Charlie has always endured to do right and this current dilemma he seems to be having is no different. A sigh leaves his lips as he begins to answer. "Buddy, you can tell me anything you know that right?"
Charlie nods but remains silent.
"And that I am far from being the one that would judge you?"
"Of course."
"You've always done the right thing, Swan. It may take you a while to figure out what that is, but I trust you. And you should trust you too. You're a good guy and I suspect nothing you do is in malice so - think it over, weigh your decision and do what you have always done."
Letting out a short chuckle Charlie shakes his head and sips his beer. "And you call me the diplomat... Chief."
.
"You drank both bottles?" Charlotte scolds as she picks up another discarded plastic cup and places it in the black rubbish liner.
Coming home to a house which had looked as if it had been rocked by a house full of frat boys was not something she had been looking forward to. After staying in Seattle for the night, coupled with the ride to and from the city, her back aches slightly and her fist feels as though it is bruised. It had been clenched tightly for most of the drive back, listening once again, to the achievements of her brother's life. She hates that she feels jealousy towards her only brother but like Leah had said before, she was only human and with that came with human emotions, not only having the emotion we choose.
Her eyes flick towards Embry's guilty face as he rubs a towel over his wet hair, another towel hanging low on his hips from having come from the shower moments earlier. She struggles not to stare at his chiselled chest as droplets trickle down his creamy coffied skin towards the lower fluffed towel which absorbs the water before it can run even lower.
She's never figured out how and why Embry came to choose her - how Embry was even attracted to her in the first place. With her boring curls, her strangely slanted brown eyes and her not so model-esque body she wonders how anyone would even want her. Embry was perfect and deserved just as much in return.
"Sorry. The boys and I got a little carried away; with Jake being back and all," he murmurs apologetically as he rubs the towel over his chest and shoulders. "You know you don't have to do that babe. I was going to do it after I got out of the shower."
"Well I can't wait forever now can I?" Charlotte snaps as she launches another cup into the bag with the frustration Embry has only seen a couple of times, mostly for the same resounding reason.
"Hey," Embry whispers as he places the towel down on the table and grabs the bag from her hands to place it down as well. She turns her face from him until he stops her by cupping her chin and angling it back so he has her full attention.
"You're crying," he frowns worriedly, his thumbs running over both full rosy flushed cheeks to rid them of tears. "Baby-"
Before Charlotte can say anything, she buries her head in his chest, her arms wrapping around his back as she begins sobbing uncontrollably into him. Her cheek rests against his warm chest as her even warmer tears flow down. Her heart constricts painfully as she feels him hug her back, one hand covering the middle of her back, the other buried in her black curls.
"I'm so sorry," she manages to splutter out as he calmly rocks and shushes her within his huge arms. It's something that he's always been able to do without any qualms. Embry is the only man she's met who is not afraid to truly show his emotions even around friends, and he's the only man that has decided to stay while all the others had left. Her daddy and brother included.
"You have nothing to be sorry for Char," he coos, pulling her shoulders back to look down at her face. "What's the matter?"
After deep breaths and hiccups Charlotte finally shrugs her shoulders and begins speaking. Even if it is the last thing she wants to do. Embry had always been an ambassador of talking problems through and it only highlights his perfection in her eyes.
"Darren's wife is pregnant again," stifling a sob she wipes her face. "I can't even have one and she's on her like - fifteenth."
Chuckling softly Embry runs a hand through her soft curls "I'm pretty sure it's only her third, honey."
"Same difference," she huffs, tensing her shoulders and turning away from him once again. Guiltily she glances up at her handsome husband to find him smiling softly at her. She hates that she is always the one with flaws between them and it hurts to think that he could do so much better than her.
"I'll never be able to give you what you want."
Without missing a beat Embry answers "You are all I'll ever want."
"Maybe now - but in five, ten years, you're going to want someone who can bare you children. Wonderful little children with bright smiles and big brown eyes just like yours."
"Baby, come here," he beckons, lifting her atop the table and sitting her on the edge. He lifts her with such ease and treats her so delicately she often forgets the weight difference between her and all the other young girls around the Reservation.
Leah had been the first to catch on to her internal catalogue of everything that was wrong with her body - wide hips, big boobs, pinches of baby fat here and there with the list going on and on. Leah had immediately scolded her for thinking such ridiculous thoughts saying that she was far from perfect, even being the size she was. Charlotte hadn't believed a word of it until Leah dragged her into the bathroom and showed her what real flaws really looked like.
"Do you see now?" Leah asks as she stands in only a simple black bra and her brother's huge basketball shorts tied tightly to her waist.
Charlotte has to cup her mouth to stop the gasp escaping her lips, and she tries to blink away the trembling tears that are filling her eyes quicker than she can will them again. "Lee-" she sniffles as her eyes settle on most of the damage, scars running diagonally from her shoulders to her waist and then cutting deeply horizontally. Embry had told her that Leah had been involved with some bad guys that had left her for dead but she's never understood the implication until now.
As Leah begins speaking, their eyes lock in the mirror above the basin. Leah's cheeks are flushed, her own eyes filling with tears. "Can you see now why none of it matters? Just because you don't have a waist the size of the stupid bimbos you look at in those magazines - doesn't mean that they are perfect. Me included. Embry loves you, and after seeing your stupid superficial flaws, he still loves you."
Grabbing for her jumper, Leah pulls it on slowly taking her time before she turns to look at Charlotte. "He doesn't see them Charlotte, he doesn't see them because he loves who you are as a person, regardless of what is under your clothes. He wants you to be happy and if that means eating one too many cupcakes, who cares? I say eat the whole fucking tray and be happy for God's sake. Fuck what the rest of the world thinks about you... The only thing that matters is what you think about you."
"I'll only want that if they have your beautiful curls and only if my little girls have your bow lips-" he whispers tenderly as he places his mouth on hers, "and only if they have your hands," threading his fingers through hers he feels her sigh "- and your voice, your nose," he kisses her softly again.
"Embry - what are you doing?" she gasps as he kisses her more firmly and presses her chest down with his until her back finds the wood of the pine table.
"You know what I'm doing" he replies coyly with a smirk, his hand travelling up the skin of her abdomen and under the material of her cotton shirt to her breast. "I only want to make you happy."
"Embry," she whines, shifting under his wandering hands. "We can't-"
"And why is that, my love?"
"I'm too heavy to be on the table," she pouts before he kisses her lips again, slower this time, calling out to the fire in her body. His hands run softly down her body feeling and touching everything he can without pulling away. She feels like an idiot and a bitch for thinking so lowly of Embry and of expecting him to be like all the others.
"You talk shit, Char. This table can hold you just fine," he laughs as he pops the button of her jeans and tugs down the zipper with his long nimble fingers. "You're not even that heavy."
"Now you're the one talking shit, Call," she laughs as she lifts her hips so he can slide the jeans down over her thighs and calves.
"I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy Char, whatever it takes to make you believe me." He replies, curling his hand under her neck to pull her up just that little bit to meet his lips. Using his free hand to discard his towel, he nestles between her bare legs and looks down in wonder at the woman that has stolen his heart.
"Embry-" she chokes, feeling his hand nudge at the inside of her thighs so she can widen her legs. "I don't-"
"Baby, you're so wet." he hisses lowly, his fingers resting on her lower stomach as his thumb slides between her folds to find her clit. "You need me so much."
"I do," she moans, her head tipping back as she feels his thumb circle her clit in slow calculating strokes. "I need you."
"I need you too baby, hold on," he growls, watching her legs part even further to accommodate his wide frame. Her soft olive coloured legs wrap around his waist in an attempt to draw him closer and they both sigh as he finally fills her need, stretching her so tightly tears form in the corner of her eyes.
"I love you," she whispers as she reaches out to touch his chest only to feel him shiver. His hips shift as he slowly pulls away only to glide back toward her in a solidly smooth rhythm. "And I'll be happy too. Even if it is just the two of us, for the rest of forever."
.
Seth runs the perimeter in a fast circuit, allowing his long hind legs to stretch right out until he is almost horizontal. The greens and browns of the forest whirl around him in a show of tall shapes and blurred figures. He wonders what it would be like to have the speed his sister possess, the much more sleek frame giving her speeds which could almost double his own. Enraptured with the sounds of his heart thumping and the heaving padding of his paws hitting the ground he runs out all the pains and frustrations of the last few days. His mind circles around the conversation from that morning with Billy and Jacob as they discussed the items they would need for the healing ceremony.
Billy had remained silent for most of the conversation, no doubt his thoughts honing in on the few moments he'd spent before his wife had died in his arms. Seth knows that Billy thinks it's a long shot but Jacob remains adamant it was going to work - that it had to work.
"Maybe you should check on your dad?" Seth suggests as Billy silently rolls out of the living room toward his room.
"He'll be okay. When he gets like this - when we talk about mum - he likes to be by himself," Jacob explains as he closes the old Quileute book and stares at Seth.
"What?"
"How are you? I never got to speak with you after - after Sue -" He splutters his words as Seth feels his heart sink into his stomach.
"Yeah," Seth replies, glancing toward the kitchen window in an attempt to look away from his former best friends sincere face. "You're sorry. I'm sorry too," swallowing a huge lump in his throat Seth runs a hand over the side of his neck.
"You mind if I ask how-"
"Cancer," Seth replies blankly, a small grimace setting over his lips.
"Oh"
"Yeah"
The silence feels like thick goo settling over the area around them. It's awkward and strange and Seth hates that he has come here to discuss terms with his ex-Alpha, who by all intents and purposes could snatch the reins back from his sister at any given moment.
"I really am sorry," Jacob offers as he stands to walk around the table toward his former pack mate. Laying a hand on his shoulder Jacob squeezes it lightly and lets out a sigh. Seth can feel his wolf bow to Jacob, knowing that he will always be the true Alpha. He hates the fact that the power Jake radiates is unbeknown to him and that Jake believes that by leaving he could escape his heritage and his pack.
Nodding his head, Seth drops his shoulder so the contact can cease, allowing Jacob's hand to slip down off of him.
Running east Seth slows his strides and makes his way to the quarry, scenting a strange smell in the distance. Bleach burns his nose and he remembers that Nelson has also picked up the same scent and it had eventuated to one of the barns on old Hope's property. Supposedly the old man had a tendency to use large amounts of bleach on the concrete floors to clean off animal blood and remains after gutting and hanging them.
Glancing at the property through the wire fence he notices a familiar truck belonging to Dominic Hoquim parked in the drive on an angle. Perking his ears he tries to listen for voices but realises he is much too far away to pick up on anything. Shaking his head he glances one last time toward the house before he trots off to get back to his patrols. He still has three hours left and he wants to spend them stretching out while he is pain free.
Because once he phases back to human, he'll be back in a world of pain.