"Jake..." Worry washed over me and I placed my palm against his head. How he'd managed not to spontaniously combust, I'll never know. His head was boiling hot, enough to ellicit a dull sting on my own flesh. The sweat was pouring down his temples and I could tell from the dark circles under his eyes that he was one sick puppy.
"You're burning up, man! Are you sure you want to go ahead with this trip?"
"I'll be okay. I need this, Alex. I need to...to vent some frustration, so to speak." Jacob's cheeks flushed thought it was hard to tell if it was out of embarassment or the fever that had him breaking out in a clammy sweat.
"I told you it wasn't good to go shirtless in this weather but do you listen? Noope." I said with annoyance and he smiled, pleased that I'd steered the subject off that of his raging libido. He chuckled and the sound rasped in his throat, gritty.
It made me wince.
"You worry too much, 'Lex."
"Let me take care of you, Jake. I'll even wear the naughty nurse uniform-!"
"Mmm. Now there's an idea!"
A quick rap at the wall was enough to make him drop his hands to his sides. I turned towards the archway leading into the kitchen and found Billy in the frame, a duffle bag perched in his lap and an impatient look on his face.
"Taxi's here. Let's get a move on."
"Wait, Bill. Jake's got a savage fever. Are you really sure sending him on a hunting trip is a good idea? Especially since there's a storm on the way an' all."
The old man gave me a tense smile. It was clear from the hardness in his eyes that he was swiftly losing patience. "It's sweet of you to worry, dear, but Jake's nothing if not indominable. He'll have his cousins looking out for him so don't trouble yourself. We'll have him back to you right as rain by Sunday evening at the earliest."
"Hrrrm..." I glanced at Jacob.
He looked utterly defeated, exhaustion paling his normally tanned face. He said nothing as he stood up, grabbing the handle of his suitcase and the duffle his father extended before he stalked, like a prisoner facing execution, down the hall towards the open front door.
I watched him from the porch, my heart heavy with uncertainty. This all seemed so abrupt, so out of the blue that there was no way it could be a simple trip. It was a cover for some big secret, it had to be. My spidey senses were tingling and it only lead to bad things.
Jacob's eyes were fixed on me as he settled into the taxi, his face drawn and gaunt with a haunted expression. I followed him anxiously, watching as the yellow car sped down the street and rounded a corner, swiftly disappearing out of the neighbourhood.
Billy placed a hand on the small of my back and cleared his throat.
"I know it's all very sudden, Alex." He sensed my unease and spoke in a resigned tone; "But Jacob's been going through a rough time lately."
"Oh?" my brows arched upwards; "Something he's not telling me?"
"It's not my place to say. He blows hot and cold over the smallest things these days. Puberty. It's a bitch." Billy brushed his hair back from his face and rubbed under his nose with one long, wrinkled finger.
"Wait, isn't Jake seventeen? Surely he's not still developing at this stage in his life!"
"No-one ever tell you guys change slower than girls, Alex?" Billy smirked and I saw echoes of Jacob's wry charm in his face. My hands dug into the pockets of my jeans and I scuffed my heals on the porch deck.
"I know that, Bill but still..."
"Ahh, the Black boys have always been late bloomers. Don't go working yourself into a coniption over it. He just needs to go blow off some steam."
"By blowing the head off Bambi. Charming!"
The old Quilete gave a barking laugh and shook his head in amusement. "A'int that the truth! So, what'll you do with yourself today? I apologize for wiping your schedule clean like that."
Shrugging, I rocked back and forth on the balls of my heels, looking up at the sky. It was a pearly grey colour, though the covering of clouds were nothing if not ominous. I knew from experience it was set to lash rain but I didn't really give it much thought, used to foul weather as I was.
"I've got a ton of history homework to catch up on so I figured I might take a stroll down to the libary, hit the books an' all."
"Oh, what're you studying?" Billy cocked his head at me as I jumped the ramp and landed shakily on the kerb below.
"Those crazy ol' Nazis and occultism in the Third Reich."
"Occultism? Geez, and here I was worrying about the rise of creationism in public schools!"
"Nnnnnaaazi vampirrrres!" I cried in my best Crow T Robot voice, flailing my hands out before me.
Billy placed a hand to his head, face-palming as a deep, shuddering groan escaped him.
"Great Spirit have mercy...!"
It took about an hour to walk into the centre of the town and by the time I'd scaled the vertigo-inducing heights of the libary steps, rain was already beginning to fall, a light drizzle coating my bare arms. I rushed inside, shaking away the wetness as I stood in the lobby and the receptionist glared ruefully over the rim of her coke-bottle glasses.
I ignored her and instead took to following the signs to the History department, soon stumbling into a cavernous room with high-vaulted celings and towering rows of bookshelfs stretching far beyond my sight.
I walked amongst the dusty rows, a finger brushing along the bookspines as I walked, eyes scanning for anything of discernable interest. Military History wasn't too hard to find and as I pulled one large, heavy brown book from it's place amongst several paper-backs on the subject of Spitfire planes, the scent of musky antiquity filled my lungs.
Mmm. Old book smell. How I love it so.
I compiled a stack of relevent material and plonked myself down at one of the grand mahogany tables set in the centre of the room. With my school-books at hand, I pulled a pad of yellow legal sheets from my satchel and set to work on an essay about the Gustapho's influence on war-time Germany.
Headphones firmly fixed to my head, my MP3 player was set to shuffle and I had to force back a snort at the twisted irony of hearing industrial German metal blasting through my eardrums as I was set to scribbling down notes. I was half-way into the first chorus of Du Riechst So Gut, scratching down a paragraph of chicken scrawl as my head bobbed in time to Till Liendeman's gutterial growls when I felt a presence by my side.
I looked up, momentarily startled.
"Hello again."
It was Edward Cullen.
Or, at the very least, his healthier, slightly less andrognyous twin brother. I switched off the music, pulling my headphones down to my neck as I stared at him, watching as he took the seat next to mine and placed a large, chunky leather-bound book on the table before him.
"Mind if I join you?"
His voice was much clearer than before, his accent hard to place. It was somewhere in the middle between upper-class British and North American lilt and it sounded a world away from the rasping, hoarse gasps he exuded the very first time I saw him.
He was a damn sight brighter, too, skin plump and a lively, pale pink in stark contrast to the sickly grey shade he was sporting on Monday. Even his hair had filled out, shining bronze and full-bodied and for a brief moment, I thought of asking him the name of his wig supplier. It looked exceptionally well crafted.
There was some fat on his bones now but he still retained an underweight look about him, dressed simply in black skinny jeans that could've been painted onto him and a mocha-coloured silk shirt with ruffled sleeves that looked like it had been plucked straight from the Seventies.
"Uhh..." I swallowed awkwardly, remembering Jacob's warning. Give him a wide berth. The man is dangerous. Giving him an uncertain look, I felt my brow crinkle. He didn't look all that threatening but if living in a notioriously rough part of Dublin for eleven years had thought me one thing it was that you should never trust what your eyes tell you.
It's only ever the tip of the whole rotten iceberg.
Edward looked at me expectantly, as though waiting for me to voice my concerns but instead, I forced a troubled smile and glanced at the book before him. It was an antolodgy of Edgar Allan Poe's writing and I swallowed down the urge to roll my eyes.
Yup. Definately Goth.
Or, judging by the amount of purplish-pink gloss on his lips, an exceptionally well-read Emo.
"Glad to...uh.. see you're cured of what ails you." I managed to offer, hoping my voice sounded cheery. In all honesty, I wasn't really in the mood to entertain another human being, too burdened by a mixture of my essay deline and Jacob's abrupt departure.
He grinned broadly and I shuddered. I'd only seen that look once before- in a picture of Ted Bundy's mugshot plastered on one of the many true-crime books my grandmother kept stacked by the fireplace. There was nothing comforting about it and I unconsciously shrank back in my chair.
"I've been sick for a while but I got better." He said simply, his gaze never leaving me.
It was then I noticed the change in his eyes.
They should've been pitch black, dead and devoid of emotion. Instead, they were the colour of clear honey and seemed to glisten in the light of the old-fashioned lamps built into the table. I quirked an eyebrow and before I could stop myself, the words came tumbling out of my mouth before I had a chance to reign them in.
"Did you get contacts?"
"Hmm? Contacts?" He looked highly amused by my admittedly rude and unfounded question and as he reached to push a lock of hair from his large forehead, I noted the dark circles and ashen lines around his eyes and mouth were gone, replaced with smooth skin that glowed with health.
"Your eyes;" I said unsteadily, gulping back a lump in my throat; "They were black the last time I saw you."
"Ahh, yes." He made a dismissive, sweeping gesture with his hand and I saw his fingernails were overly long for a guy, tapered into sharp points. "I'm afraid those were the contacts. My illness... it makes me rather sensitive to light, you see. Prescription shade lenses. They're the wave of the future! I don't have to worry about looking like a douche wearing sunglasses indoors."
"Oh." You look like a douche regardless, I though, struggling not to sneer at his horribly cliched taste in literiture.
Clearing my throat, I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and turned back to my books, feeling increasingly unnerved by his presence as the minutes ticked by.
And yet as dismissive and rude as I was deliberatly being, he did not take offense to my aloofness. Instead, he thumbed the cover of one of my books and hummed a noise of approval, index finger tracing over the embossed title in a way that was positively indecent.
"I'd like to have you for dinner sometime."
I blaunched.
Tell me I did not just hear that!
"W-What?"
"Din-ner. You know.." he rubbed his stomach with one hand, one sharp eyebrow arched in condescending amusement; "...Food. Eating. Together. Yum-yum."
"B-But you barely know me!" I spluttered, glancing wildly around the room. This had to be a wind up. I'm sure of it. Any minute now, Ashton Kutcher is going to pop out from behind a wilted ficus and announce I'm being punk'd. And I am going to punch him in the face regardless.
"Mmmm. That's why I ask. I'd like to get you know you better." Edward's voice was suave, the words rolling off his tongue in a manner that was surely well rehearsed.
What a sleazeball.
"Do you even know my name?" I found myself retorting dryly, eyes narrowing as I shot him a dubious look.
"Alexandra Elvira Sweeney."
My eyes snapped open, widening to saucers.
Holy fuck.
How did he find that out? I never told anyone my middle name, about the monicker my Mistress of The Dark-loving grandfather had bestowed upon me at my Christening ceromony, not even Jacob.
It was one secret I was determined to take with me to my grave, mortifying as it was.
Okay, now I'm well and truely freaked out.
Jumping up from my seat, I grabbed my books and stuffed them quickly into my satchel, feeling my heart hammer in my chest. The only way he could've possibly known that is if he had somehow or another read through my personal school record and unless there had been a mass exodus regarding the Freedom of Information Act, I found that to be a very remote likelihood.
"I have offended you once again. I'm making a habit of it these days, it would seem." Edward chuckled brightly, handing me a dog-earred copy of The World At War: Volume Two. I grabbed it off him, feeling my teeth gnash together.
No doubt he had blabbed it all over school. Oh, god. I'd never live it down-!
"So, dinner-" he started but I cut him off, shoving him as I barrelled past in the direction of the door.
"Flattered but spoken for." I gritted out, quietly wishing Jacob was beside me to act as a meat-shield. So help me, I was all set to bash the creep with the full force of the heavy load in my satchel but the desire to avoid a scene stopped me in the nick of time. He grabbed my wrist with lightning reflexes and I grimaced.
His pale skin was as cold as ice upon my own and it caused a shudder to quake in the depts of my soul. That clammy hand twisted slightly but it felt like a vice-grip, crushing the bones of my wrist together in a way that made me gasp with pain.
"He is a lucky dog."
"Take your hand off me this instint before I rip it off and shove it up your hole!"
The bronze-haired creep smirked and took my wrist with his other hand, tracing the lines of my palm with one long, razor-sharp nail. I saw white curls of my flesh peel away with his torturous movements and I bit my lip, willing myself not to cry as pain stung at me.
"Such a pity. You are a beautiful creature, dear Alexandra. Utterly..." he purred the word out, his dark lips too close to my ear for comfort; "...Mouth-watering."
"Stop looking at me like I'm the prime roast of the day! I have no interest in anything you have to say so go on- sling yer hook!" I nearly shrieked at him, yanking my hand away. I soon came to regret that decision for whatever way he was holding my hand, the action caused a horrid snapping sensation as I jerked away from him.
White light exploded before my eyes and my breath hitched in my throat. I could feel his frigid fingers on my shoulder, steadying me but with my free hand, I summoned upon every last ounce of strenght in my body and elbowed him hard in the ribs.
For all the good it did, I might as well have rammed my arm into a brick wall.
He barely flinched but soon loosened his grip as a low tutting noise punctured the air. We both turned simultaniously and I found myself standing face to face with the brunette girl from the cafeteria. At such close proximity, she was far prettier than I'd previous envisioned but giving the unholy amount of pain surging up my arm, I didn't have much space left in my brain to fully appreciate the fact.
"Edward!" the woman snapped, her voice clipped and clear as a bell but low enough as not to anger the stuffy receptionist out in the hall; "We've talked about this. Let her go."
The bronze-haired man grunted with displeasure but obeyed and his hand melted away from my wrist. I clutched it protectively to my chest, shocked at the sight of the five angry, purple bruises that were rapidly forming on my flesh. Five perfect impressions of the biting grip of his spindly digits.
The brunette woman sighed deeply and clicked her fingers, glaring daggers at Edward.
"Go wait in the care. Honestly, I can't take you anywhere!"
"But-" Edward started but he was cut off by a swift slap to the face. The sound echoed around the room, a loud, hollow crack. He didn't protest anymore after that and soon stalked off to parts unknown, his shoulders hunched and his gait brooding as he swept from the room.
The brunette fluffed out her hair.
It was the colour of a chestnut, the light catching the odd auburn highlight dotted throughout the fashionable flicked bob she wore. I stared at her, trembling in my army boots. She sensed my unease and shook her head, giving me an apologetic look.
Her eyes were the same honey colour as Edward's but unlike his, they were lively and bright without a hint of malice.
"I am so sorry!" she gasped, sounding flustered. She extending a cautious hand to examine mine and I shrunk back. Not out of fear of her but more out of the worry of doing further damage to my wrist.
I swallowed hard and glanced towards the exit, chewing my lip.
"Edward's not known for his subtly. You're a brave soul to turn him down outright like that. Are you alright?"
My voice wobbled, tears of agony building behind my eyes.
"No!" I squeaked, feeling my hand begin to swell with fluid; "Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that man is not human! Look what he did to me! I oughta have him done for assault!"
The woman winced at the sight of my mangled appendage and touched a hand to her mouth.
"I'm no expert in the matter but that hand is definately broken. Do you need a ride to the hospital? My dad's a doctor. He can help set that for you-"
"No offense but if you think I'm getting into a car with that freak-!" I spat the word, feeling hysteria bubble beneath the surface; "-you're clearly out of your damn mind!"
The woman flinched slightly but gave a nod of resigned agreement. Reaching into the fancy-looking handbag slung over her shoulder, she pulled out a small rectangle of paper and handed to me, her expression meek.
"At the very least, will you give him a call? You'll be seen to in record time. I'm so sorry about Edward. Truely. He doesn't know his own strenght at the best of times... or his own mind at the worst."
I whimpered, forcing an embattled smile.
"I'll send you the medical bill." I muttered sardonicly.
She grinned at that and the corners of her cheeks dimpled. A sweet, cherubic face.
"By all means." She extended a hand. Her nails were short, round and painted with a sugary, candy-floss shade of pink.
"I'm Alice."
My nerves receding slightly, I grasped her with my free hand and found her to feel a good deal warmer than the ghostly, overly touchy weirdo stalking around out front. Her hand was dainty and light, much too petite for a grown woman.
"Lex. Alexandra. But everyone calls me Lex."
"A pleasure. I only wish we were exchanging pleasentries in better circumstances."
"Does he always act like a stalker or is it simply Friday?"
Alice chuckled, an airy noise.
"For the most part. He's hasn't been right in the head for a while now." she rolled an index finger next to her temple and I managed a chuckle.
"Really? I'd never have guessed...!"
"Not since his girlfriend dumped him-Oh, goddamnit!"
A car horn blared outside and she groaned, shoulders slumping as she tossed her head back in exasperation. Casting me another sincere, apologetic look, she petted my shoulder gently as she brushed past me to the entrance hall.
"Take care of yourself, alright? Give Carlisle a shot. Trust me- it's well worth it."
I glanced down at the thick black writing on the little slip of paper she'd given me. A long number filled with many fives and noughts stared back at me along with a name.
Carlisle Cullen, M.D.