So everyone has been so incredibly lovely in regards to the last few chapters. I'm still so nervous about writing the story, but you are all making my first vampire experience to be my very best yet. You make me feel proud of this sucker.
Thanks a lot. I love you.
For some weird reason I really like this chapter, despite it's lack of Edward. Your thoughts are always and eternally appreciated.
I don't own anything.
Betaed by dowlingnana. I love her too.
Forks is beautiful. The juxtaposition of mountain and sea touches that place my soul used to be. Although I know it's impossible, I never want to leave. We move constantly, hiding the fact that my daughter ages seven times slower than your average human.
Also it's because of the fact that the rest of us don't age at all.
Ten years after my unbirth and this is the first place to call to me. I love the green, even if the color is a painful reminder of the man that constantly lingers in my thoughts.
Esme had questions when we told her my story. I find it too painful to even think his name, let alone explain to our newest family member. I'm very fond of the woman Carlisle turned after she hurled herself off a cliff, but those details will remain private.
Although I like the latest addition very much the change in our group dynamics are driving me up a wall. After mostly getting over his well-deserved guilt at robbing me of an afterlife, I found Carlisle to be warm and so blessedly sturdy. The three of us, Carlisle, Vanessa, and I, often pose as a family to fit into the human world, and we are relaxed enough around each other to make it believable. Esme is now cast in the roll of my sister to the small population of Forks Washington, something that is proving quite awkward.
They are both hopelessly in love with each other and unwilling to take the risk. The way they shuffle around one another, formally polite, is highly vexing. Carlisle lost whatever limited flirtation skills he may have once processed after decades alone, and Esme's love life tragically ended when she decided to take her own life to escape her abusive husband and the miscarriage his torment caused.
We have all the time in the world for them to admit their feelings, but I might snap at any moment hanging around the pair of them.
My irritable mood leads me to the edge of my very own cliff. It took me months to trust Esme alone with my seemingly eighteen-month-old daughter (developmental speaking, anyway), but now I seize the opportunity for alone time at least once a week.
I watch the white capped waves crash rhythmically on the jagged rocks below and I feel a tiny prickle of anticipation, a tiny remnant of what it feels like to really be alive. After studying the far off horizon that separates the grey sea from the grey sky, I make a running jump.
The sound of my laughter gets lost in the rushing wind as I free fall. My entry is a smooth swan dive. Once submerged, I swim deeper, letting the strong current tug my body wherever it wants me.
I close my eyes and float in the rough ocean, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness. I'll relax down here until the sensation of not breathing becomes irksome.
My peace is abruptly disturbed when I feel a tug on my elbow. Although I thought I heard something strange, I dismissed the nearby heartbeat. I am too late to pay attention. The grip is weak and laughably human, but enough to pull me slightly towards the surface. My first reaction is to violently jerk away from whatever has me. I open my eyes to see the figure of a shirtless, dark-skinned man, blinded by his own swirling mass of long black hair. In my shock he manages to get a hold of my arm again. Before I give in to my urge to smack him away I remember that I'm supposed to be a human woman, and I let him pull me to the surface.
I put on a good show of sputtering and grasping when we get to the surface, just to entertain myself. Holding me with his arms under my armpits, I listen to his labored breathing as we make annoyingly slow progress towards the shore.
His heart beats succulent blood through his warm, wet system. I enjoy the bouquet without sampling the wine. He sure did pick the right vampire to play hero on, the lucky son of a bitch.
We stagger on to shore and he collapses in the sand. I stare at him for a moment before remembering that I supposedly just almost drown. I dramatically do the same, pretending to be winded and exhausted like a proper almost drowning victim.
Hiding my impatience, I wait for him to catch his breath before we have a little conversation so I can go home and change out of these wet clothes.
Thank God I decided to jump dressed this time.
Mostly dressed.
After a while I sit up and brush my fingers through my long loose hair, trying to tame it somewhat. A few more deep breaths and his heart rate slows enough for him to prop himself up on his elbows.
I feel him stare at me for long moments before I'm compelled to give him a good look.
Dark skin over hard muscle. His elbows stick out somewhat awkwardly, making me think he hasn't quite grown into his long frame yet. Judging by his skin color and waist length black hair that sticks in thick strains to his wet arms, I figure he lives on the nearby Indian reservation.
Perhaps he's just returned from one of those horrendous boarding schools the government ships the children off too all in the name of progress and Americanizing. The person I once was might have cared about atrocities like that. The vampire I am now cares only for Vanessa.
And Carlisle. And Esme. To a much smaller degree.
"Are you alright?" he asks. His eyes linger on the wet fabric of my dress that clings to my chest, but I don't find it in me to be offended. He does think he did just save my life, after all. "I thought you were dead for sure by the time I reached you. And you didn't need mouth to mouth or nothin'."
I raise an eyebrow at that. Like I would have allowed his mouth to be anywhere near my mouth. It does not help that he sounds vaguely disappointed that I didn't need to be resuscitated through his lips.
"I'm quite alright," I reply, sounding haughty and pretentious even to my own ears.
He looks at me hopefully to continue. I'm not sure what he wants me to say.
"Thanks ever so," I continue when I finally figure out the appropriate words for this situation.
"You jumped on purpose," he says, his cheeks turning slightly red. I remember my own human blush and smile slightly. "Didn't you?"
"Of course I did," I reply before thinking it though. I do everything on purpose, but a human woman probably would take that dive with one goal in mind. "I do it all the time," I push on before we can get into some horrifying conversation about suicide. I think of Esme and contain my wince.
"Why?" he demands, mouth agog.
"For sport," I explain, elegantly rising to my feet and brushing the sand off my neat trousers. It's useless being as I'm still soaked. "It's thrilling, but I would recommend starting from the lower cliffs if you want to give it a shot."
He scrambles to his feet, looking utterly mystified. "I know. We do it all the time. It's kinda a rite of passage round here. Becoming a man and all that."
I nod like I know anything or care anything about becoming a man.
"Well, thank you for your help," I say, putting distance between us. I hate how he, like everyone else in the world, looms over me. "It was a little rough today. I'll be sure to be more careful next time."
"Are you messin' with me?" he demands, following me as I march in the general direction of my home. It's miles away, but shouldn't take me more than five minutes if my running is lazy. "You almost died! It's a miracle I found you in time. A miracle!"
"Right, I won't do it again. You have my word." This seems like a good thing to say to get him to leave me alone. My wet, salty hair feels awful against my skin, so I quickly separate it into three sections and braid it, letting the long pleat fall over my left shoulder.
When I notice Jacob's gaping I realize that I probably did that with a bit too much speed and precision. He shakes his head before continuing on.
"Have your word?" he asks, matching my quick pace towards the forest. "How can you give me that when I don't even know your name?"
"Bella," I reply, throwing my words at him in the same way I would swat a fly.
"Bella?" he asks, obviously surprised that I'm acting so casual.
"Cullen," I continue with a barely contained sigh. "Isabella Cullen."
"I'm Jacob Black," he says, scurrying around to face me and extending his hand. With a scowl I take it, squeezing harder than I should.
"Nice to meet you," I say with absolutely no feeling what so ever.
"Damn, you're strong," he replies.
I raise an eyebrow. It's not often I get talked to like that. It's not often I get talked to by humans at all, with the exception of when I'm forced into town to get Vanessa something to eat. I find cooking human food to be repugnant, but Esme enjoys it. One of the few things she really remembers from being human, she says.
"Thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I really must be going." I walk fast, slightly faster than I should, given my present company.
"Wait!" He sounds so desperate and oddly scared that I actually comply with his command. Closing my eyes and calming the urge to eat him, I slowly turn around.
"Yes, Mr. Black?"
"You ain't gonna tell anyone, are you?" he asks. I tilt my head to the side and study him, not understanding his worry. It was my understanding that men enjoy telling the world of their heroics. Why would he want to keep it a secret?
"I hadn't thought on it," I reply. "Why?"
"Well… a lot of people in town, your kinda people, they might not like it. They might not understand. Take things the wrong way," he says, suddenly fascinated by his own feet. "Your husband's the new doctor, right? He wouldn't like it."
It is around this time that I realize that he is still without a shirt and shoes, that my top is just shy of see through, and that we are totally and completely alone.
An Indian and what would appear to be a white woman.
And then I understand. The human I once was would feel this injustice acutely. The prickle I feel is the result of what lingers. The vampire I am now dismisses it quickly. I care not of the ridiculous racial hierarchies of power hungry people, nor those oppressed by them.
"I assure you, they are not my kind of people," I say, being kind now for no apparent reason. "And my husband would be nothing but thankful to you."
This isn't a lie, but I don't mean what Jacob Black surely thinks I mean.
If the image of all this wasn't false, if I was a real woman who foolishly jumped off a cliff for the thrill of it, then my real husband would be nothing but thankful that this boy on the brink of manhood saved me from the waves.
But my husband is long gone and I don't need saving.
Jacob Black nods, but doesn't say anything.
"Goodbye, Mr. Black. Thank you again."
"Do you know your way?" he asks, eyeing the wood skeptically.
"I've walked it often enough."
"Really? All the way down here to our land?"
"Your land?" I ask.
"You're on the reservation, ma'am," he explains. "La Push."
I nod at him before turning to leave. He lets me melt into the forest, and I don't give him another thought.
"Is this going to become habit with you, Mr. Black?" I ask dryly. This is the fourth time in as many weeks that I've just happened upon the young Indian in the woods or on the beach.
Today, it's the cliff.
"There ain't no habit here," he insists, sounding far too innocent. "We just keep running into each other is all."
I stare at him, making it clear that I am not purchasing what he has for sale before joining him at the ledge. Today, anticipating his stalker like ways, I wore an actual bathing suit with an appropriate cover up. That's what a real woman would do.
If a real woman had a habit of jumping off fifty foot cliffs into a raging sea.
"You gave me your word," he says, frowning as he takes in my attire. "But I thought you might come back here. We Indians learned a long time ago not to trust the white man's word."
I crack a slight smile because his combination of cynicism and cheerfulness is appealing.
"It's too rough today," he says. "The current's too strong. You'll die."
I sigh, knowing I can't jump with the human loitering around. Surely I'll give away the game when I easily brave those deadly currents. I've given up on getting him to leave me alone.
"It's no fun if it's not deadly," I say to myself, pouting slightly.
Jacob Black chuckles. I'm surprised he's heard me.
"You're very strange for a white woman," he says. "You're very strange for any woman," he amends.
It is my turn to chuckle.
"Believe me when I say I know nothing of the ways of women," I tell him.
"What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"
I just smile slightly before sitting at the edge of the cliff, letting my legs dangle.
"Ain't you cold?" he asks.
"No," I reply. Most of our conversations are like this, him with a thousand questions, me with one word answers.
"So I've heard them talking about you in town," he continues, totally undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm. "You're a mama."
At this I really do smile. My little Vanessa is the light of my life. We spent over a year in Amazonia, living with a group of mothers and children just like Vanessa and I. A rather sick vampire has been living there for decades, turning expectant mothers. The whole thing is disturbing but it gave us the answers we were seeking.
My daughter is indeed a hybrid. She's more durable than a human, but not as strong as a vampire. She can survive off blood or human food, and prefers a combination. She ages slowly, every seven years of her life equivalent to one of a human. Apparently she'll grow into immortality. It seems that most of the hybrids we met stopped aging at 120, somewhere around 17 in people years.
Not that I tell Jacob Black any of this.
"You really love your daughter. It's written all over your face. I think it's the only time I've ever seen you look real happy."
"You should see me when I jump off this cliff," I reply. He smiles at my silly joke.
"Do you like being a wife as much?"
My little follower certainly is getting bold. I guess telling him I know nothing of women is just asking for him to lose all sense of social boundaries.
"Once I did," I say, again telling the truth although he has no chance of understanding what I really mean.
"Not anymore?"
"The title of wife has become a convenience and nothing more." This is probably taking it too far. I realize that to Mr. Black I appear a woman dissatisfied in her marriage. Most of the time I forget our little cover story that casts me as Carlisle's young wife.
Jacob Black, seeing my face, changes the subject to his own family. I listen with half an ear as he talks about his father and two older sisters. His mother died when he was young. I struggle to hold on to an image of my own mother.
Mostly I watch the dark wave's crash.
Tonight, when Jacob Black is tucked safely in his bed, I'll make the dive.
Jacob and I strike up a strange sort of friendship. At least that's what he calls it, a friendship. To Carlisle and Esme I describe it more like being followed around like an over enthusiastic puppy. Still, he is something to pass the time that isn't all too unpleasant. Sometimes he can even border on entertaining. I don't talk much, but he doesn't seem to mind.
Several months like this pass. He always finds me during my weekly alone time. I'm not overly fond of leaving my daughter, but she's not quite old enough to jump off fifty-foot cliffs and scramble up trees yet.
Today, he finds me up a tree. How he spotted me is something of a mystery, but I would have emerged anyway. I lost the urge to run away from him weeks ago.
"How the hell did you get up there, Bella?" He always uses my informal name while I rarely call him anything at all. When I do it's Mr. Black.
"I climbed," is my dry reply. He chuckles and attempts to scramble up after me.
I spend the next fifteen minutes watching him climb up the exceedingly tall tree. It is highly amusing, but he actually ends up much higher up the trunk than I expected.
"Well done," I tell him.
"You're ten feet higher," he says with a huff. "How'd yah do that?"
"It's a gift," I reply.
"What are you doing up there?"
"Relaxing."
"You are a very strange woman."
"Thank you."
"It's calm today," he says.
Without another word I hustle down the tree, slowing even more than I thought necessary when his eyes go wide at my skill. He follows at his slow, human pace. We walk in silence. It's odd for Jacob Black. On a typical day he talks incessantly, so much so it's almost soothing with its constancy.
Perhaps something is wrong. I don't care enough to ask.
We get to the cliff and I pull off my jacket and vest, adding the boots to the pile. Today I wore pants, much more practical for this sort of thing. Jacob watches me avidly, looking away in embarrassment when I catch him. It does not faze me. With immortality comes inhuman beauty. Humans just don't know what to make of us. The look of awe is common and uninteresting.
"Let's just jump together," he says as I join him on the ledge. He extends his hand towards me. I roll my eyes, taking giant steps backwards so I can take a running start.
I jump before Jacob even knows what I'm planning.
I smile a real genuine smile, the kind normally reserved for my daughter only, as the wind rushes in my ears. Doing slightly less graceful flips than I would without an audience, I straighten my body for the entry, the palms of my hands entering the water first.
I briefly consider going through my normal routine of letting the current pull me hither and nether, but again, the present company prevents me. I think he'd be rather suspicious if I failed to surface for a second time.
So instead I float on the surface, pointing my toes towards heaven and spreading my arms like Jesus on the cross. As I roll with each wave, I watch Jacob take the dive. He's obviously nowhere near as graceful as me, but he manages to do all right, avoiding the dreaded flop on the belly that is sure to sting like a fickle bitch.
Immediately he begins the strenuous-to-a-human swim towards shore. I sigh and begrudgingly follow, understanding that he fears the current throwing his body onto the sharp rocks nearby.
We stagger onto shore ten feet apart. Unlike the first time, I watch him collapse onto the dry sand. I stand above him, grinning at the rush.
Jumping like that, the free fall makes me feel almost as alive as I was with my husband, whose name I can't even manage to think without the pain ripping through me. I pretend to fall asleep by his side nightly, but his name is too painful to bear.
I don't bother to humanize myself with unnecessary breaths as I watch Jacob Black catch his. I just continue to smile softly, reveling in the memory of the rush.
He opens his eyes, smiling up at me. It is probably a version of the one I myself wear.
It's a nice moment. Until he opens his big mouth, that is.
"I love you."
I watch his lips form syllables I was once very comfortable hearing and saying. Everything is different now. The miraculous birth of my inhuman daughter taught me that there are many kinds of love, some much more potent than others. Nothing could compare to what I feel for Vanessa, or what I felt – and continue to feel- for her dearly departed father. Despite this, I understand that the great affection I feel for Carlisle is a simpler, less heartbreaking form of love. There is no romance there, but I never want to be without him. The same is becoming true for Esme.
Unfortunately, what I see etched in the faint lines of Jacob Black's face is the romantic kind. If it was anything but that, we could continue this way with our odd, dishonest on my part friendship.
But it isn't friendship. It isn't simply affection.
The human I once was would have felt sympathy for Jacob Black, would have attempted to soften the blow of rejection. The vampire I am now has little patience for such inane matters.
"Don't," I reply, without emotion. "A waste of your time. No good can come from loving me, I assure you."
"But, Bella, I do. I really do."
"That is most unfortunate for you," I tell him. In this moment I remember what it's like to feel discomfort, to feel pity, but I can't manage it now. "Your love won't be returned. Not ever."
My lack of emotion or shock or real reaction seems to enrage Mr. Black.
"I don't believe that!" he yells, sitting up in his anger and hurt. I look away, studying the forest. I failed to anticipate this. Allowing this odd relationship to continue was my entire fault. If I'd given it a bit more thought I would have recognized the signs.
Jacob Black is in puppy love with the human he thinks I am.
"You're not happy! You don't love your husband! I know it won't work here, things being the way they are, but we could run away. Head up to Canada, Things are different there. I could protect you. Take care of you."
His little speech is painfully heartfelt. I let out a small sigh, hating that I got myself into this ridiculous situation.
"It's a fools dream," I reply. "You know nothing of me. And I want nothing of you. You've crafted something in your head, something you think I am, and it's fiction. I love my daughter. I'm devoted to my husband, even if he's beyond my reach. You are the first human to garner the slightest bit of my attention in many years, but when it really comes down to it, I feel nothing for you. Jacob Black, you are a blip in the long, painful story of what passes for my life. Do not make the insane mistake of making me the focus of yours."
He stares at me for a long moment before standing and running off into the woods. I watch him go, feeling a momentary prickle of regret.
I was harsh. He should have learned long ago that life is like that too.
Harsh and cold.
A week passes and I see nothing of Mr. Black. I don't think on it, knowing that his disappearance is my doing. My brutal honesty was designed to stamp out any of that misplaced hope.
Two weeks pass, and I find it odd. Apparently I misjudged his devotion, thinking that perhaps we could form a friendship like the one we crafted in weeks before.
At three, I resign myself to the fact that Jacob Black is gone, a thing humans tend to do with great frequency. Heartbreak will do that to you, make you disappear. I don't blame him at all.
I have memories of all the ways the human heart can fracture and what that can do to a life. I may not be familiar with what such stark rejection feels like, but I know what it's like to be alone.
My cliff jumping occurs in peace during this time, but occasionally he pops into my head. It's brief and fleeting.
Unlife returns to a comfortable routine. My very limited alone time goes undisrupted, but I don't like it as much as I thought I would. Instead, I harden my resolve to enjoy our small amount of time as much as possible before my daughter's lack of ageing forces us to move on.
Today, we hunt as a family. By hunt I mean Carlisle and Esme track down supper while I sit in a tree with my daughter in my lap. She touches a damp leaf, frowning when her fingers get wet. She reaches out, her tiny palm finding my cheek.
Cold. She shows me that the leaf makes her fingers cold.
Her gift never fails to amaze me. Through touch she projects images of what she's feeling or other assorted memories, right into the head of who she touches. She overrides vision, leaving one no choice but to understand the wonder of experiencing what she encounters. It is truly awe inspiring, seeing the world through my child's eyes. Her memory is detailed but like a dream. Everything seems beautiful to her.
Even now, as she expresses displeasure at the sensation of getting her hand wet, the way she plays images into my head gives the appearance of a bright, warm glow.
I kiss her chubby little cheek and dry her fingers on my dress.
"Momma," she replies with a giggle, slapping her soft hands against the hard skin of my face. "Momma, Mom, Mommy."
"Yes, little love. I'm so lucky to be your mommy." I mean this with every fiber of my being. Without Nessie, I would have provoked the Volturi into ending my existence the moment Carlisle told me of the vampire elite.
"Bella!"
Carlisle's voice reaches my ear from half a mile to the west.
"Dinner is served, Vanessa," I say, pulling her into my arms and climbing down with one hand. When we get to the ground I situate her to the backpack-like device Carlisle invented that straps her firmly to my body. I feel her rest her chin against my shoulder, her preferred position because it allows her to see what I see. Her sweet breath tickles my neck, and I smile as I take off in the direction of the rest of our coven.
It takes next to no time at all.
Esme is a short distance away, hiding behind a tree. Blood, even something as mild as that of a deer, still makes her somewhat savage and ravenous. While Carlisle and I have no problem remaining firmly in control as we drink, the blood lust consumes Esme. She finds the whole thing very embarrassing.
Carlisle hands me a good sized female before going about the business of enjoying his own. I drink greedily for a moment, almost draining the beast before stopping. I take Vanessa off my back, setting her on the ground to finish. I would prefer her diet be strictly human, but my girl far prefers blood to any other meal. Still, she's become less picky as she grows, so I'm hopeful for her future.
If she wanted, my daughter could live fully in the human world.
"That didn't take long," I comment when Carlisle finishes.
"Esme is getting quite good," he replies, smiling in her direction with great affection. I roll my eye because he is painfully transparent.
"Is this enough for you?" I ask, gesturing to the one small deer carcass at his feet.
He just shrugs.
"I'll take Nessie back home," I say, irritated by his stupidity. "Perhaps you could continue hunting with Esme. Alone. Just you and Esme. Totally alone."
He just stands there blinking at me.
"Totally and completely by yourselves," I whisper so only he can hear.
His blinking turns into scowling. I scowl right back. We stand there, deer carcasses at our feet, scowling intently at each other. We are both so completely focused on this silent communication that the sudden appearance of Esme is much more startling that it should be.
"Do you smell that?" she asks, apparently not noticing our odd behavior.
"Smell what?" I reply, somewhat annoyed that I didn't finish this thing with Carlisle.
"It's foul," Carlisle says, turning to face the woman he obviously loves. "Something wet and pungent. Nothing like I've come across before."
I tilt my head to the south, hearing something faint and pounding in the distance. Breathing in deep, I catch the odd scent as well.
"Something is oddly familiar there," I say. It is extremely frustrating, this inability to place what I'm inhaling. "Completely horrible, but, oddly familiar."
"Not familiar," says Carlisle.
"Decidedly unfamiliar," says Esme.
I just sigh and close my eyes, wanting them to be together already.
"Heartbeats," Carlisle observes.
"Four feet," Esme puts in.
"Paws," I correct, recognizing the rhythm of the run. "Not hooves. Several four pawed animals. Wolves, I'd guess. Do these woods have wolves?"
"They sound awfully big for wolves," Carlisle comments.
"Should we run?" Esme says, glancing around in concern. "It could be dangerous."
I snort. Nothing is dangerous to a vampire.
But Vanessa isn't a vampire. With as much speed as I can manage, I swoop down and hold my daughter protectively to my chest.
"Running would trigger the predator," Carlisle says. "Make them hunt. I don't want to risk it with Nessie."
He looks at me and I nod my agreement, falling into position behind Carlisle. Esme flanks him, and we all listen intently, hoping that the beasts will veer in a different direction. Carlisle is probably insatiably curious, but he will always put Nessie's safety first.
Alas, they head right for us, bursting into the clearing some forty-three feet in front of us before coming to an abrupt stop.
Wolves. Really, outrageously giant wolves. Four of them, in two shades of grey, one black, and the largest loitering behind the others a deep russet.
I peek around Carlisle, as does my daughter. She is completely fixated on the creatures in the distance, letting out a happy chirping giggle and clapping her hands. I study her for a moment before turning back to the danger. It's not a reaction I've seen from her before, especially given the threat in our presence.
I hold Vanessa a little closer, hiding her in my jacket. I dare not scramble up a tree with her in the backpack.
"Oh dear," Carlisle says. "Perhaps running would have been the wise decision. Bella, the tree?"
I take large steps backward, eyes fixed on the wolves and crouching defensively, stopping when I feel the rough bark against my back. One move on the part of our adversaries and I can get my daughter to safety in a matter of moments.
The black one in front makes a move to attack but the russet one jumps in front, seeming to block the path, almost as if he's striving to protect us. It is the last thing I expected, making me pause before scurrying up the tree.
There's a series of growls and grunts as the wolves seem to communicate. A moment later, in a sudden burst of energy, the large wolf standing before me morphs into a very familiar man.
It takes a lot to surprise a vampire. The older ones have witnessed it all, experienced everything there is to experience. The look of shock on Carlisle's face is almost worth this stress.
Jacob Black stands between my little coven and the trio of giant wolves with snapping jaws and deathly gazes. He' is naked and panicking. I don't know what to make of him.
"Bella!" he calls, sounding painfully heartbroken. I feel that prickle of guilt, a feeling that somehow I've led him to this. It's more than I've felt for a human in a long time.
Except he is not human. Far from it, apparently.
"What are you doing? Please, no! Don't be this. Anything but this."
I hear the tears in his voice; smell the salt on his skin.
"You know what we are?" Carlisle asks, studying Jacob Black intently. "How?"
"I could smell that stench of death for miles, bloodsucker!" Jacob spits with so much hate I jump a little. The boy I got to know over the last few months is much different now. I wonder if his super human ability is a recent development.
It must be, if his horrid stench is any indication.
"Fascinating," mutters Carlisle. He looks like he's a step away from asking for a blood sample. Esme grabs his hand, probably fearing that he's about to march across the meadow and ask to run some tests.
"I told you I know nothing of human women, Mr. Black," I say, sounding so cheerless and so wary.
"But you've been this the whole time?" he wails.
"Yes," I reply, nodding sadly. Apparently the enhanced hearing of these wolf men stays with them in human form. Despite the distance there is no need to shout across the clearing to be heard. "Since 1917 to be exact."
He lets out a bemused cry. The wolves behind him scrape their paws in the dirt, thrashing their great heads from side to side. For now, the conversation and Jacob's insistence seems enough to keep them at bay.
"How? We've spent so much time together! Alone in the woods! Before I knew that all the stories, the legends, were truth, we spent hours alone. It would've been so goddamn easy for you," he continues, pacing slightly as he tries to understand.
"You were never in any danger," I assure him. Although it seems somewhat pointless now that he knows about us. Our fellow vampires have a hard time believing our lifestyle. I imagine it's difficult for Jacob, who obviously has hate for the vampire.
"And you!" Jacob shouts, pointing at Carlisle in a rather threatening matter. Esme takes a step closer to Carlisle, protectively. It makes me smile, even in this moment.
"You're the damn doctor! You're supposed to be saving lives! Is it just some sort of sick cover?"
"No, no," I say. "He really does save lives. I know it seems unfathomable, but we don't hunt humans. We don't take human life. Look," I say, gesturing towards the deer carcasses: "Animal blood. Not so different from a wolf, is it?"
The pack growls at this. Jacob turns around, demanding they back off.
We explain several times before Jacob seems to grasp what I am saying. I point out our amber eyes and the fact that I never threatened him. Not once in all the hours we've spent alone.
"We kill your kind," Jacob says, shaking his head. "We're protectors of the tribe, defending them against the cold ones."
Cold one indeed. I find I like the term.
"We're no danger to your people," I insist. "On the reservation or otherwise. Has a single person gone missing since our arrival? I think not."
Vanessa, apparently bored to tears with the conversation, fusses in my arms. I cuddle her close and soothe her, pulling her higher up on my torso and into the wolves' line of vision for the first time.
Jacob gasps. The wolves behind him growl furiously.
"What are you doing with that baby?" Jacob screams, storming closer, as the trio of snapping and spitting wolves move with him.
"What?" I ask, completely offended by the implication. "She's my daughter, not an after dinner snack!"
Jacob pauses, staring hard at the little bundle in my arms. He sniffs the air. The wolves follow suit.
"What," Jacob whispers, terrified now. "What is this? What is she? What is she doing to me?"
He clutches his heart and falls to his knees. We all blink down at him, confused by this behavior. The wolves seem to do the same.
"It's complicated," I say, pushing back against the tree, still ready to flee. My climbing abilities far surpass Jacob's. This I know. "She's half human. If you really protect people then you cannot harm her."
Jacob groans, still clutching his heart. His gaze never leaves my daughter, making my anger flare. It is so intense. Nessie stares back, letting out a series of giggles.
The black wolf morphs into his human form. He is slightly larger than Jacob, slightly older. His dark hair is cropped closely to his head. With sure steps he reaches Jacob, placing a hand on the groaning man's shoulder.
"Jacob!" he shouts. "What is it?"
"Everything is different," Jacob whimpers. "The whole world moved. I'm… it's… Her," he says, pointing at Ness. I hiss and turn my body, hiding my daughter from view. Jacob scrambles to his feet, desperate to keep looking. This whole situation is really becoming extremely frightening.
"I strongly suggest you come no closer," Carlisle says, his voice more dangerous than I've ever heard before. Both naked men stop abruptly, understanding that crossing Carlisle in this moment would lead to carnage.
Esme adverts her eyes but I continue to glare at the man I once almost considered a friend. I'll snap his neck like it's nothing if he comes anywhere near my daughter.
"He's imprinted," the older man says, still restraining Jacob. "He's imprinted."
This explains nothing to my baffled family, but it causes the two remaining wolves to whimper and bend their heads, going from aggressive to submissive quickly. One lets out a mournful howl.
"I've what?" Jacob screeches. "No! She's a baby! She's part vampire! She smells strange. No I didn't. I won't. I couldn't have! I love her mother."
I roll my eyes at this.
"What does it mean?" I demand, not really caring how what Jacob feels in this moment. "Imprinting on my daughter? Explain this!"
They do as I say. When they are finished I wish they hadn't.
It's love. It's a connection. A bond that now makes Jacob's entire existence wrapped up in my daughter. The rest of his life will be spent devoted to Vanessa, loving her and protecting her. It is some strange wolfish mysticism that is life long and unbreakable.
According to the wolves, it really only gives Jacob no choice in the matter. Vanessa could easily not return his affections if she so chooses. Apparently, it is unheard of, someone rejecting that kind of single minded devotion.
Jacob's gaze never leaves my daughter, even as I admittedly reject this. I reject all of it. She's a baby, for god sakes. It's vile.
"My love isn't like that" Jacob insists. "It's not romantic. It's not sexual." Everyone winces at the thought. "She's my heart, Bella. She's my heart."
I reject that too. Without another word I flee into the woods, disappearing from this nightmare and protecting my daughter from a fate involving someone who smells so strongly of wet dog.
A wailing howl accompanies my retreat. It's tormented, and chills my undead bones.
I resolve never to lay eyes on Jacob Black or the rest of them ever again.
In the books I always wanted Bella to just stomp out Jacob's hope and crush his, well, crush, but she never did! Not really. So writing this was fun. Still, I like the dude. Poor guy.
This really has nothing to do with anything, but my dog got trampled by a stupid fucking deer a couple days ago. I had to resist to urge to write a deer slaughter scene, and I've been a vegetarian since I was five. Protect your dogs, people! Bambi is an asshole.
Thanks for reading!
